Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The chaos of their seemingly endless nightmare over, Steve drives them back to the Byers’ house. Slow and steady, his knuckles bleed white as he rolls through the dark streets of Hawkins, silently praying nobody’s dog leaps in front of him.

Thankfully, they arrive safely.

Safe and yet covered in alien grime, and they each bear new wounds which will soon fade to scars. Scars that regular people—people who know nothing about demodogs and predatory, flesh-eating vines—could ever understand.

“Is she…okay?”

Mike’s voice sounds so far away and calm, and Steve can’t help but wonder the same thing about Max’s dickweed stepbrother.

Earlier that day, Max was just some random girl Lucas and Dustin brought with them to the old junkyard. But in the hours since she showed up, Max proved far more useful and resourceful than he’d expected. Hell, the kid is already growing on him.

Too bad her step-brother is such a total asshole.

Steve glances over at Hargrove where he lies on the floor, still as the dead, while Chief Hopper helps the strange girl called Eleven onto the Byers’ couch. Like everything else in the house, it’s littered with fevered crayon drawings Will made while possessed.

Fun times.

Mike immediately rushes to move the papers out of the way, tenderly stacking them on the coffee table before moving to sit next to the exhausted girl. He cradles her close as her eyes flutter shut and she lets out a tired sigh.

“She’s burned herself out, I think,” Hopper replies, huffing out a breath. “Look—I can take you to the hospital to see Will, but I gotta sort out the rest of you kids, first.”

“Yeah, Harrington definitely needs a hospital,” Dustin says, pressing a bag of frozen peas to Steve’s head.

When and where he got those, Steve isn’t sure. He’s pretty sure there’s a monster occupying the Byers’ fridge now.

“I’m fine,” he protests, voice raw.

“Really?” Dustin prods. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Steve answers, no hesitation.

“He isn’t holding up any fingers, Harrington. His hands are propping you up and holding those frozen veggies to your head.” Hop snorts. “Yeah, okay. You’re definitely coming with me to get checked out.”

“What about El?” Mike asks, voice pitching. “You can’t just leave her here—alone.”

“I’ll drop her off at the cabin. She’s used to being by herself there. She’ll be able to rest.”

“Be okay, Mike,” El says quietly, smiling weakly. “Promise.”

“I should get home. Will’s gonna be in recovery a whole lot longer than last time, I think,” Lucas says, his gaze on Max. “What about you?”

“Oh, home. Right.”

The redhead moves closer to Hargrove, kneeling on some of Will’s drawings. He groans softly, like he can sense her approaching, and one of his hands flinches. By the pathetic sound he makes, Steve thinks the jerk isn’t in attack mode any more; he might actually be trying to get away from her.

“You’re okay, dipshit,” Max sighs before turning to the police chief. “He will be okay, right?”

“Should be,” Hopper replies, though by the way his mouth twitches nobody really buys it.

“Maybe Hargrove should go to the hospital too,” Dustin offers, his brows knitting together. “He kind of got punched a few times, and that tranquilizer was meant for Will. But, like, possessed Will.”

“Your choice, kid.”

Max turns towards Hopper, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Maxine, right?”

“Max,” she corrects dryly. “But, yes.”

“Okay, Max. Here’s the thing. I have a whole mess to deal with back at Hawkins’ Lab. Plus I have to get El hidden away again to keep her safe from the government agents that’ll no doubt be crawling all over town once they get here. I also gotta drive your friends home. So. What’s it gonna be?”

“Hargrove came ‘ere to get you,” Steve mumbles, vaguely gesturing. “Was hours ago. So, how pissed ‘re your folks gonna be if the Hawkins Police Chief drops you off—and Hargrove’s drugged off his ass?”

“Thanks for that colorful picture, Harrington,” Hop muses, though he isn’t exactly smiling. “But I think the girl gets it.”

“Hey, we can tell them you came to visit Will with us,” Lucas says gently, his gaze soft. “You didn’t tell Billy because you knew he’d say no. Then Will got worse and his mom and brother had to take him to the hospital. I mean, it’s basically the truth. Everybody in town knows Will’s been struggling since he went missing last year. That he’s gotten really bad lately.”

“Yeah, this town is the worst for gossip,” Dustin remarks. “It’ll buy you time, anyway.”

“Time for what?” she squawks, looking around at each of them. “It's not like he’s gonna sober up in the next twenty minutes. Besides—Billy still showed up here and beat the shit outta Steve for no reason. He’s insane!”

Steve can’t argue there. The guy started out all reasonable; kinda flirty, even. But Billy switched on a dime the second he thought he was being lied to. Almost like the lie stung more than Max being in the Byers’ house. Makes Steve wonder if maybe he should’ve just told Hargrove the truth.

“Maybe he thought Steve was going to hurt you,” El says, curling into Mike. “Sometimes people do bad things for good reasons.”

“Jonathan clobbered me for somethin’ I said ‘bout Will once,” Steve admits, slumping lower in his chair, his vision dimming as he fights to stay awake. “Wait…what’re we talking about?”

“Dude, you didn’t,” Dustin mutters, disappointed. “Clearly you deserved it, then.”

“Wouldn’t say it now. Not that asshole anymore.”

“You’re definitely not,” he agrees, offering Steve a sappy grin.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Too bad my jerkface step-brother didn’t get that message,” Max grumbles.

“Okay, that’s it. Everyone in my cruiser.” Then Hopper does a quick head count and groans. “Okay, scratch that. There’s too many of you.”

“It’s fine,” Max interjects, nudging her brother's boot with the toe of her sneaker, earning a pathetic whimper in response. “Billy can ride in the trunk.”

“And we can squeeze together,” Dustin adds, grinning innocently.

“Oh, hey, Henderson—” Steve snaps his fingers at him. “What ‘bout your specimininum? Your specifimen…”

“My specimen?” Dustin’s eyes go wide and his head turns towards the fridge. “Oh…shit. Yeah, Hopper? We have that demodog El killed in the Byers’ fridge.”

“You what!” Hop pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a groan. “Okay. I’ll tell Sam Owens. Presuming he survived. Now everybody get moving before I have to call for an ambulance, or something.”

Mike is first to go outside with El, then Dustin helps Steve to his feet, taking the bagged peas with them. Steve sits on the porch, waiting for his head to stop spinning, and notices Lucas lingering, waiting for Max

“It’s okay, Stalker. We’ll be out in a minute. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Fine. Just as long as you don’t drive yourself home,” Lucas quips before going out front.

She grins, nervously glancing at Hopper to see if he caught onto his meaning. Luckily, he seems none the wiser, distracted by her idiot brother.

Lucas brushes past him, and Steve grins lopsidedly.

“Just need a minute. Gonna wait for everybody else to get in the truck first.”

“Sure,” Lucas replies, eyeing him. “And maybe, if you need to puke, do it now?”

Steve gives him a sloppy thumbs up and shifts his bag of peas higher.

“So, Max,” Hop says gently, crouching by Billy’s head. “What are we doing? Home or hospital?”

“Look, it’s not like I don’t wanna help Billy,” she says, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “But it’s like there’s some stupid, unspoken rule about hospitals in the Hargrove family. Like, Neil used to say it was because we didn’t have insurance and he’d rather be dead than pay out of pocket for some bullshit testing and treatment nobody really needs. But since moving here, and Neil getting that new security job at the plant… I know we’ve gotta have some health insurance now. So… It should be okay, right?”

Something in Steve’s gut tells him that the insurance thing was a lie. Especially considering how quickly Billy turned to violence. Tommy’s dad could be quick to snap like that sometimes, especially after he got a few drinks in him. They never talked about it either but, as Tommy grew older, the signs were starting to show—some in bright neon—that his old man had left his mark on the poor kid.

So, yeah. If Max doesn’t choose to go to the hospital, Billy might end up dead—and not from his injuries; or the tranquilizer.

“Hospital,” she says at last, going pale.

“Good choice.”

Hopper offers her a strained smile, then dips to loop his arms under Billy’s armpits, yanking him into a sitting position, sort of.

“Getoffame,” he growls, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re okay, kid. Not gonna hurt you. Your sister’s here, too.”

“—crazybchtryntakillme…”

“You tried to kill Steve first,” Max huffs, bending so her face is closer to his.

He must smell nasty because she flinches and wrinkles her nose. Probably like stale cigarettes, blood, sweat and too much cheap cologne. Steve stares at the gold chain around the asshole’s neck as it catches the light, and recalls how Billy’s shirt was unbuttoned when he got there. And, for a few fleeting seconds, he vaguely wonders which bimbo Hargrove has left waiting on him tonight.

Nicole, Tammy, Brenda? Not that he actually cares.

“Now, behave,” Max says firmly. “This is Chief Hopper. You’re just lucky Steve isn’t pressing charges—yet.”

“Notmysister,” he mutters in response, his head lolling forward, chin bumping his bare chest.

“Nice guy,” Hop drawls. “Did his shirt come open in the fight, or is he always this flamboyant?”

“The tits out thing?” Max asks, and he nods. “Yeah, no. He showed up like that. Billy doesn’t like to button up unless he has to. Which is, like, almost never.”

Steve chokes on a snicker—and coughs. They look over at him, like they forgot he was there, and a bemused grin fights its way onto the chief’s face.

“Um, okay; noted.” He chuckles, tossing her a spare set of house keys. “Might have a problem in a week or so, when the temperature really dips, though.”

“That’s his problem. Hope he gets frostbite, would serve him right,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Hold the door, would ya, Steve?”

The fog in his brain momentarily clears, and Steve snaps upright, pushing the door all the way open. He holds it as Hop drags Billy out onto the porch, his heavy boots dragging a few of the drawings with him.

Max quickly frees the pieces of crumpled paper and locks up behind them. Steve follows her, like if he keeps his eyes on her he can find his way to the car. Which reminds him—where the Hell is his own car?

Must be at Henderson’s, he thinks, crawling in beside Mike with El in his lap. He smirks, head coming to rest on the headrest, and winks.

“Don’t be weird,” Mike retorts.

“Sure. Right. Nothing going on here,” Steve muses, winking again.

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Dustin says from the front seat, sighing.

Max climbs into the back too, perching on Lucas’s thighs, her cheeks burning pink.

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hi,” Lucas says softly. “Your brother gonna be okay back there?”

Steve cranes his neck, then realizes there’s a divider and he can only make out a few fingers and some of Billy’s obnoxious curls. Who did the guy think he was anyway? A shampoo model?

Everything after that is a blur.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, or the relief that The Gate is finally closed, but Steve zones out around the time that they drop off Lucas. Dustin was first, his mom fussing over him and how dirty he’d gotten. She offered Hopper some milk and cookies, which he warmly declines.

When Lucas leaves the cruiser, his dad is at the door, waiting. It looks like a few words from Hopper is all it takes to ease his concerns, because Charles hugs his son and takes him inside. Like, genuinely hugs him, patting his back and giving him a proper squeeze.

Steve misses that.

The days when his old man actually worried about him. Now they pass each other like ships in the night, that is when the man is actually home. He thinks it’s a solid bet that Billy’s dad is even worse. He just doesn’t want to think about it too hard because then he might feel bad for the guy.

 

Now that he’s coming more into focus, sitting in the ER, waiting, Steve wishes Billy wasn’t such an epic piece of shit. The guy looks so lost—broken—when they wheel him away in a wheelchair. Like he could really use a hug.

“I have to go.”

Steve snaps his head up, and the bright hospital lights sting his tired eyes. But Hopper isn’t talking to him, he’s hovering beside Max, concerned.

“What?” she asks, just as startled.

“I gotta go, now,” Hopper says again, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Look, I let Joyce know what’s up. You know—Will’s mom? So, if you need anything, she’s in room 214. Okay?”

“Where’s Billy?”

“Still being assessed. They might reverse his sedation, or they might just let him come around on his own. Don’t worry; Doctor Jackson is an old family friend. We can trust him. Told him that Billy most likely hit his head on his way to the floor—so that’ll make ‘em hold him for observation for at least the day. Just hang tight, kid. I’ll notify your folks once I check in with the feds handling the shitshow at the lab.”

She grins; likes that he doesn’t care about swearing in front of her. Then again, it’s probably the middle of tomorrow morning by now, so he probably isn’t even aware of half of what he’s saying.

“Hey, did we take Mike home?”

Hopper shakes his head before nodding at the chair in the corner.

Sure enough, Mike’s curled up next to his sister, and Nancy’s head is resting on his shoulder as they both doze.

“He stayed to see Will as soon as he’s awake. But, between you and me, that might be a long while.”

“That’s, um…sweet.”

“Kid’s been by his side all this time. Think it’s the only reason he managed to pry himself away from El. Who, by the way, doesn’t exist.”

“Right. Gotcha,” she says, yawning. “Um, Hop. Before you go. Somebody’s gonna tell me about Billy, right?”

“Yeah, Max. They’ll keep you updated; and me.”

“Oh, one last thing. When you go to my house… Billy’s dad. Neil. He might be pretty mad.”

“Station let me know your mom called in around ten last night. I can only imagine how many times your step-dad called. I think Callahan stopped answering after the fourth time he relayed his colourful thoughts on our incompetence.”

Max winces.

“Yeah, that sounds like Neil.”

“Thanks for the heads up, anyway. And maybe keep your stepbrother away from Harrington’s room. They’re gonna put him next to Will, or at least that’s the plan once Will’s stable. I guess it was a quiet enough night until all Hell broke loose.”

“Did your, ah, friend make it?”

“Bob Newby didn’t. But Sam Owens, the doctor treating Will—who fought for him. He looks like he’ll recover, yeah. Thanks.”

“Mr. Newby…oh. Right. God, poor Will. And his mom…”

“It’s gonna be a tough next few days. I can take you home now, if you’ve changed—”

“No,” she interrupts. “No, I wanna stay here.”

“Okay. I’ll be back later.” Hopper finally makes eye contact with Steve, his expression grim. “Keep an eye on Max for me, won’t you, Harrington?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, voice gravelled from disuse. “Not like they’re rolling me off to be assessed. But, sure. I’m the designated babysitter now, apparently.”

“Good—and Nancy is right there, too. If you need back up. Not for Max, but rather for Hargrove.”

Steve glances at Nancy, a sickening pang stabbing his heart, and he forces a grin.

“Yeah, I’m sure tiny little Nancy is gonna stop the mad bull that is Billy Hargrove,” he snorts.

“Maybe not, but she can scream for help,” Hopper says, amused. “Call the station—if it’s an emergency. Otherwise, I’ll be back as soon as I can manage.”

Max smiles tiredly, then glances at Mike. She slowly gets up and walks over to the chair beside him. Mike cracks open one eye, then moves his arm, inviting her in. Max presses into his side and rests her head on his chest, looking like she might break down at any second.

From what Dustin tells him, Mike wasn’t exactly welcoming to Max when they first made friends. So, naturally, Steve wonders how he’s somehow become her safe person in all of this.

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

“Hey, you’re a party member, now,” Mike mumbles, yawning. “We gotta take care of each other. No matter what happens, okay?”

“Okay,” Max warbles, squeezing in closer.

Nancy smiles at the pair, more awake than she’s pretending, and meets Steve’s eye. The pang hits him again, worse this time, that he’ll never be her safe person again—if he ever was. No, that always seemed to be Jonathan; and now they can stop pretending. Be in love out in the open.

But where does that leave Steve?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have long to contemplate this depressing thought, as his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out cold.

{~~~~~}

It’s dark, his vision blurs at the edges, and something moves behind him. Billy can’t move to react, though. His body feels heavy, like it’s sunk into cement, and he thinks maybe Neil’s finally had enough of him.

A figure towers over him, their raspy breath reeking of decay. Goosebumps prick his skin—and fear clutches his chest. Unable to get away, or make a sound, he can only lie on the floor, practically paralyzed, as the demon hovers closer.

Billy’s own face comes into focus, his eyes devoid of color, his gaze radiating a sickening, primal evil. Then the face morphs into someone else, someone he doesn’t know, with a piercing blue-eyed stare so intense that Billy swears his eyes are glowing.

The stranger leans lower, pinning Billy down with his mere presence, and half of the looming man’s face begins to bubble and crack, as if his flesh is burning off the bone. Then the ghoul’s mouth slowly yawns open in a silent scream, and a shadow passes between them, mouth to mouth, soul to soul.

Overwhelming, pungent death begins to consume him, and he feels cold—so inexplicably cold.

And Billy’s body starts to convulse…

 

“Billy—Billy, you’re okay. You’re okay, Billy!”

Max’s voice finally carries to him, muffled and distant, like his head is underwater.

The lights are too fucking bright, practically making his eyeballs buzz, and all Billy can make out is a patch of familiar red hair somewhere beside him. Feeling like he’s swimming in muck, not quite getting his head above it, the demon of his nightmare fades away, forgotten.

Almost.

That’s when the alien beeps and blips finally snap Billy out of his stupor—well, not quite—and he seriously wonders if he crashed his Camaro. But that would be ridiculous, unless he hit one of those shit-making cows.

“—the fuck!”

Max tries to hold him steady by his shoulders, but he’s too preoccupied with trying to get his lazy limbs to do anything to even notice her. Flailing for his life like a feral cat he tried to catch one time when he was nine. Not to hurt, just to take home and secretly keep as a pet. Sadly, the cat had other ideas. Spitting and hissing, all claws and sharp teeth.

“Billy! Please—stop!”

His natural instinct is to shove her away, which would serve her right. Only, for some reason, her touch seems to have a calming effect on him. Her small hands press into his shoulder and chest, and he honestly can’t tell if she’s the one trembling or he is—or maybe it’s both.

“Hospital, Max?” Billy huffs, exhausted.

He’d love to curse her out, but the words seem to be getting lost between his brain and his mouth, and his tongue feels like rubber, the hint of decay still lingering on his taste buds.

“Yeah, I know. You don’t do hospitals,” she mutters sharply, still pinning him down under her tiny form and worried gaze. “But you were so far gone—and I couldn’t just take you home, okay?”

Billy hates that she’s right. Hates how his eyes sting, because that means he’s on the verge of crying. Embarrassing himself. Most of all, he hates how his knuckles ache, and that he can still see King Steve’s broken, bloodied face under his fists.

“Harnton?”

Max looks at him like maybe what he said wasn’t a real word, or made no sense. But, yeah. It probably doesn’t make sense, considering he wanted to kill the guy a couple of hours ago.

“Harrington?” she repeats slowly, eyeing him. “Hmm… If I tell you where Steve is, you can’t go and murder him. Understand?”

“Yes,” he manages, letting his head fall back on the sterile scented pillow. “Undstnd.”

“Hm, I think you’re still pretty fucked up,” Max points out, biting back a laugh. “But, okay. Obviously, you didn’t kill him. Gave him a pretty good concussion and messed up his face real bad, though. Anyway, he’s down the hall. Patched up and being monitored, or whatever.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbles. A sudden image of Max holding a nail-filled baseball bat flashes behind his eyes. “Tried ta kill me too.”

“Only your balls,” Max quips, smirking. “Cut down that overactive testosterone of yours.”

“Hate you,” he huffs.

She looks a bit hurt, which doesn’t make him any happier. Then again, when did hurting her ever help him feel anything, positive or otherwise? It was a waste and he knows it. Only serving to push her further away. But maybe that’s for the best, for everyone.

“Yeah, well. I don’t exactly love you right now either, big brother. Look—you need to listen to me, okay? I was at that house—Will’s house—because he’s one of my new friends.”

Billy rolls his eyes, sort of, and Max hits his shoulder.

“Pay attention, dipshit,” she huffs, sitting back in her seat. “Now. As I was saying. Will is very sick. Has been having a lot of issues since this is a year since he went missing. Long story short; I went with my new friends to his house to try to cheer him up. But he got worse and worse. So, his mom and brother had to take him to the hospital—here. You showed up about ten minutes after they left. That’s why Will’s mom wasn’t home.”

“Harrington?” he asks, getting his whole name out this time and narrowing his eyes.

Max crosses her arms over her chest.

“He was left in charge of us younger kids. Duh.”

“Why lie?” he grits out. “Said he didn’t…know you.”

“Um, because he knew I already lied to you and snuck out. Plus I was pissed at you for busting up my skateboard, asshole. Like I was gonna help you make good with your awful dad.” Max is quiet for a moment, some of her anger easing. “But… I’ve changed my mind. I know how mean Neil can be. And as mad as I was, you don’t deserve to be punished all because I decided to run off.”

“Again,” Billy says pointedly.

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. My dad wasn’t there anyway. So, you win. Every time, it seems. You’re right, and I’m the stupid baby who gets herself in trouble.”

“Not a stupid baby,” he mumbles.

Before he even knows he’s doing it, Billy reaches for her hand, and the heart monitor pinching his finger knocks against her palm as he gives it a squeeze.

“Thanks,” she says softly, her eyes glossy and sad. “And, um, thanks for thinking you were protecting me from Steve and my stalker.”

“Still don’t trust ‘em.”

“Lucas is harmless, and in what universe would a guy like Steve Harrington need to prey on a skinny little skater girl, like me?”

“Don’t know,” he replies flatly, shrugging one shoulder. “Just what I saw.”

“I think I might like doped-up you,” she says, biting back another laugh. “You actually admit to giving a shit.”

“Maybe—but. Be dead me soon as Neil’s here.”

Max shrinks a little, her brows furrowing, and she gives his hand a squeeze.

“I won’t let that happen. Trust me for once, okay?”

His heart aches almost as much as his knuckles and head.

Billy wants to believe her so badly but nobody’s ever managed to protect him before; or stuck around long enough for their attempts to matter. Not his mom and certainly not his so-called friends in California. Not that he had many. So, he can’t exactly expect his thirteen year old step-sister, that he’s only ever treated with contempt, to succeed.

“Not worth it,” he mumbles, turning his head away from her to hide how his bottom lip wobbles like some helpless toddler. “Go home ‘n’ play nice—be fine.”

“Um, fuck that,” Max huffs. “There’s no way. I love my mom, but she’s changed so much since marrying Neil that I barely know her anymore. I mean, she lets that jerk tell her what to do—and how to think. It’s embarrassing.”

“Still no reas’n not go home, Shitbird.”

“Billy…”

He feels her hand begin to slip out of his own and he quickly turns towards her again, more afraid of losing her than letting her see him so fucked up and raw.

“What? You leavin’?” Billy’s voice cracks and he swallows down a sob. “Fine…”

“No, I’m not going anywhere, you jerk,” Max chides, though a soft grin curves her lips. “I’m not going anywhere. I just… You should know that they did some x-rays. You know, on account of you knocking your head on the floor after getting in a fist fight? Anyway, I kind of heard the doctor talking to Hopper—that’s Chief Hopper. It sounded like he wanted to call a social worker. Something about all the evidence of old, healed-over scarring and, um, fractures?”

“Won’t happen. Nobody gives a shit ‘bout me. ‘Sides—in this town less than a week—bet everybody knows I’m no good.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. And you don’t have to be the way you are! People here, some of them—like my friends. They can help. They want to help. So maybe if you stop acting like a self-destructive, narcissistic asshole for five minutes, you’ll see that you have other options.”

“Big words, Max. But. S’not an act.”

“Bull. Shit,” she growls. “You used to be prickly; but now you’re a fucking mess. I never know what’s gonna happen. If you’ll just ignore me, or try to throw me from your speeding car! I’d think you were on drugs but, clearly, you aren’t. ‘Cause you’re kinda mellow and giddy when you’re stoned, apparently.”

“Why you even care? Not family—not friends. Only found you ‘cause had to—no other choice. You’re a fuckin’ burden, Shitbird. Responsibility.”

It hurts more than he expects to push her away again, the words still buzzing in his ears long after they leave his venomous tongue. But it’s all he knows how to do to keep her safe. Nightmare or not, that dark shadow felt real. Like his real self showing its ugly face, and Max deserves better than that. Better than him.

Max’s gaze falls to her lap, and she doesn’t move for a few seconds. Then she stands up, predictably, and shakes her head.

Billy can tell she’s ready to walk out of the room—out of his life—and he secretly studies her through his thick lashes. Her soft freckles, the redness of her cheeks and nose, and the clearness of her crystal blue eyes; eyes far more innocent than his ever were.

But Max doesn’t move towards the door. Instead, she throws herself down, arms encircling his shoulders, and she nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck.

“Please stop,” she whimpers, making his heart break a little. “You’re my brother now, and we are family. You’re just a kid, too, you know. Steve didn’t deserve to get beaten up. But you didn’t deserve whatever has you so angry all the time and made you wanna beat him up. So, stop it, okay? I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me—forever.”

“Max…”

Billy doesn’t feel deserving, maybe he never will, but his walls are too full of cracks to hold strong, and he crumbles. Burying his face in her hair, a soft sob rattles in his chest and, for possibly the first time since he’s known her, he hugs her tight.

“Where is he!?”

Neil’s booming voice makes them both jump.

“I’m sorry, sir. If you’ll just wait—I’ll page his doctor.”

“I don’t need to speak to any damn doctor,” Neil growls. “Tell me where my kids are, or I’ll have your job!”

The nurse must point him towards Billy’s room because he’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling. Billy ducks his head, averting his gaze, and he can feel his whole body trembling all over again.

“Get up, get your things,” he orders. “Stop sniveling, Maxine. Clearly your brother is fine. Irresponsible and disrespectful, but fine—for now.”

“He’s not fine. Besides, he has an IV,” Max argues, pointedly holding up Billy’s hand. “He can’t just rip it out. Mom—say something.”

Billy catches a glimpse of Susan idling in the hallway, barely a shadow behind her irate husband. She looks away, avoiding her daughter's pleas.

“I’ll get that useless nurse in here,” Neil huffs, throwing off the warmth of Billy’s covers, exposing his bare legs. “Where are your clothes?”

“I don’t…” Billy squeezes his eyes shut, knowing any answer, even a truthful one, won’t help here.

“Check the cabinets, Maxine. There’s no way I’m paying for any of this nonsense. There’s not even a scratch on him.”

Max pretends to look in a drawer as Neil stomps out of the room again. She glances at Billy over her shoulder, and he knows she can see he’s shaking again.

“Just the drugs,” he mutters, removing the heart monitor clip from his finger. The quick blips change to a loud, complaining whine. “Fuck—make it stop,” he hisses, covering his ears.

“Put the thing back on,” Max says hurriedly.

“What’s going on in here?” A woman with messy brown hair and dark circles under her eyes brushes past Susan, not knowing who she is, and looks from Max to Billy. “Are you okay, Billy?”

“This is Joyce Byers,” Max says quietly. “It was her house we were in.”

“Knows my name?” Billy asks under his breath.

“Of course,” his sister grumbles. “Because unlike some people, she gives a shit about her kids and their friends.”

“Maxine—language,” Susan chides from the doorway.

Sure, now she speaks.

“I’m sorry,” Joyce says, turning around. “Are you Max and Billy’s mother?”

“Susan Hargrove,” she nods, nervously clutching her purse strap. “My husband is just getting the nurse so we can take the children home.”

Joyce arches an eyebrow, mirroring Max’s own skeptical expression.

“Did your husband talk to Billy’s doctor, or Chief Hopper? Because I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Susan pushes by Joyce and grabs Max’s hand, tugging her towards the door.

“I think we’ll leave that up to him,” Susan mumbles. “Come along, Maxine. You know your step-father will want a word with Billy before we go.”

“I think you mean when we get home,” Max retorts, wriggling away from her mom. “And I’m not going anywhere. I told Billy I wouldn’t. I was the one who ran off without telling him. I should be in trouble, not him.”

“Oh, you’re definitely grounded,” Susan remarks. “But we’ll discuss that at home.”

“That damn nurse refuses to do her job,” Neil mutters as he returns. He gives Joyce a once-over, his eyes crawling up and down her body in a slightly predatory manner. “You don’t look like a nurse.”

“I’m not,” Joyce replies, lifting her chin and meeting his eye. “I was checking on Billy. I was worried he was leaving without the doctor’s okay. And, clearly, I was right. That’s a very troubled boy you have.”

“Don’t I know it. C’mon, William. We’ll just have to tape you up,” Neil announces, holding up some stolen gauze and bandage tape. “Nobody’s going to tell me not to take my son home.”

“Excuse me—but you can’t do that!” Joyce exclaims as Neil yanks on Billy’s IV catheter.

“I think I can do whatever I please,” Neil scoffs. “Can somebody shut these blasted alarms off!”

Joyce huffs out a breath and leans past him, clicking a switch or two, making the monitors fall silent. Billy thinks she must have experience with such things, even if she isn’t a nurse, and vaguely remembers what Max said. Something about her kid being sick; gone missing last year?

But as Neil yanks out the catheter, the site bleeds. A lot. Plasma and blood gushing all over his hand as his old man clumsily tries to apply the gauze.

“Stop fidgeting!” he growls, twisting Billy’s hand at an unnatural angle. It doesn’t help that every muscle in his body is tense, making the task all the more painful.

“Sir—please. I can do it…”

“Can you? Like how you can watch one little girl and keep her safe? Really—are you even capable of doing anything? Useless.”

It’s not the worst thing his dad has ever called him, but it hits differently when said in front of a perfect stranger.

“Mr. Hargrove?”

Max rushes at Joyce, clinging to her instead of her mom.

“Good—Chief Hopper,” Neil says, flashing him a grin as he finally gets the bandage tape to stick to Billy’s hand. “Maybe you can get this incompetent hospital staff to do what they’re told. And, while you’re at it, perhaps you can escort this busy-body out of here.”

“I’m going to take Max to Will’s room. That’s where we’ll be once this is all sorted,” Joyce says softly, tucking Max under her arm.

Billy can tell Joyce was talking to Hopper and not his dad. Of course this pisses Neil off even more.

“You have no right to take my daughter anywhere—”

Hopper steps in front of him, blocking his way, and Susan shrinks out of the room like a shadow retreating from the sun. They move easily around her, then, after a beat, Susan scurries after them, like she doesn’t know what else to do with herself.

“Joyce is only thinking of Max’s welfare; as am I. And I told you, Mr. Hargrove. We needed to have a conversation with your son’s doctor when you arrived at the hospital today. Now, we can still do that—or I can take you down to the station and we can discuss your conduct there.”

“My conduct?” Neil snorts and squares his shoulders, stepping into Hopper’s personal space. “I’m not sure how you run things in this town, Chief. But I think I know how to handle my own delinquent son.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say, but your son assaulted another boy while in my friend’s home. Gave him a fairly bad concussion, actually,” Hopper recounts, not budging. “It’s a pretty serious concern.”

“Boys will be boys, Chief Hopper. I’m certain it had something to do with Maxine, which means the other boy must be at fault, regardless of where this so-called assault happened.”

“I’m not sure about that. At least Steve Harrington hasn’t said whether or not he’s pressing charges just yet. Then again, he isn’t saying much since he’s in worse shape than Billy.”

If the chief was trying to help, this wasn’t it.

Neil whips around on Billy, his knuckles white at his sides, and Billy realizes too late that he should’ve left town last night rather than search for his runaway sister. His chance for survival would’ve been a bit higher.

“A Harrington—really, William? We’ve lived here a week and you’re picking fights with the son of one of the richest families in town? Are you insane?”

“Please keep your voice down, Mr. Hargrove,” Hop warns, his hands raising, ready to intervene. “It sounds like it was all a terrible misunderstanding. Like you said. Thought he was protecting his little sister. I’m sure Steve won’t pursue legal action.”

Billy hangs his head, chin tucked to his chest, unable to even pretend to maintain eye contact. Secretly, he wishes Harrington would just let him rot in a county jail cell for a few days, away from Neil. Although, time might just add fire to the flame and give his old man time to think up new, inventive ways to punish him.

“So, it’s your call—for now,” Hopper shrugs. “We can go down the hall and speak to Doc Jackson, or take a trip downtown.”

“This is a waste of time,” Neil huffs. “We already had to miss church this morning because of my son’s impulsive, violent tendencies. Let me take the boy home and punish him accordingly. This is a family matter, not anything worth wasting taxpayers money over. C’mon, get up. We’re going.”

“That wasn’t one of your choices, I’m afraid.”

Hopper’s voice takes on a threatening tone that could rival Neil’s and, for once, Neil seems to listen.

“Fine. Stay here, William. I’ll be back in a few minutes to get you. Be ready.”

Neil jerks his hand towards the hall, as if insisting Hopper leads the way. Of course he throws one more nasty glare at Billy as he leaves, and Billy thinks he’s going to puke.

 

…

Chapter Text

Steve touches his face, finding it difficult to open one of his eyes. The slick, rainbow band-aid has been replaced by butterfly tape and strips of gauze, and his jaw and teeth ache something awful.

“There he is.”

Trying to focus with only one eye is slightly nauseating, but Steve manages to find Dustin’s grinning face under the dimmed hospital lights.

“Did I pass-out?”

“Did you ever. Only about three times,” Dustin says, stifling a laugh. “How ya feeling, buddy?”

“Like somebody tried to crack my head open like a piñata,” he mumbles, finding it hard to open his mouth properly. “Oh, wait. Somebody did try to do that.”

“Maybe you need some more meds,” Dustin says thoughtfully. “I’ll go find a doctor.”

“Dude—slow down,” Steve reaches to catch the boy’s sleeve, his head spinning at the sudden jerky movement. “Fuck. I can’t chase you, Henderson. Just stay a sec, okay?”

Dustin eases back into his seat and gives him a very pitiful look.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here, Steve. What do you need?”

“Did we really…” He pauses, to swallow, afraid he might start drooling if he's not careful. “Did I go down into those cursed fucking tunnels and help you guys burn ‘em up?”

“Um, yeah. You did,” Dustin nods, voice soft.

“And Max drove?”

“Yup. Although you insisted you drive back. Thought we were all gonna die—both ways. You’re pretty concussed.”

“Jesus…” Steve groans. Just when he thought he was getting the hang of this babysitter stuff, he realizes that he really has no clue. “And did we leave a monster in the Byers’ fridge?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah… We did that too,” he says, wincing. “I should make sure somebody gets that thing out of there, huh?”

“Ya think?” Steve sighs and closes his good eye. “And is Nancy with Jonathan now, or did I imagine that?”

“Ah, yeah. That definitely seems to be the case. But, also—” Dustin glances at the door. “Billy Hargrove totally kicked your ass. Or, rather, smashed your face in. You’re not super great in fights, are you?”

Billy’s angry, red face flashes behind Steve’s eyes, and his index finger tingles from the phantom sensation of pressing into the other boy’s hot, tanned skin, the firm muscles beneath flexing against his pointed touch. Steve’s cheeks heat up just from thinking about the intensity of that brief moment. It feels like such an intimate memory…

“Steve—you gonna pass out again?” Dustin interrupts, waving a hand in his face and snapping him back to the present.

“S’okay. I’m okay. And, yeah. I remember that part. Vividly. And—shut up, Henderson. I’m just better at attacking actual monsters than people. Although, I’m not entirely sure Hargrove qualifies as a person, or human for that matter.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your ego, or whatever.”

Dustin shifts in his chair, and Steve can hear his jacket rustle and his sneakers scuff the floor.

“So, um, I was thinking,” he continues quietly. “You said earlier that your folks are out of town. And my mom thinks you were out helping me track down Mews all day, yesterday. So, my point is, you can come stay with us for a few days. Or, you know, until you don’t need to be checked every few hours.”

“Seriously?” Steve snorts, instantly regretting it when a sharp pain explodes behind his eyes. He also isn’t sure whether he should feel weird about the offer, or relieved. “I mean, it might be nice. You’re sure you have room for me?”

“Yeah, there’s a pullout couch in the den,” Dustin says, beaming. “And Mom’s a really good cook. We can watch movies and stay up late…or you can, um, rest when you need to. I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Steve cracks his good eye open and offers the younger boy a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Dee. Appreciate it. And I promise not to overstay my welcome.”

“Great! I think your car’s still at our house anyway. So that works out well.”

Steve chuckles and lets his head fall back onto his pillows.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. God, what a long, entirely bizarre day.”

“Tell me about it,” Dustin sighs. “Pretty sure Max and Lucas are a thing now. That is, if her parents don’t ground her until graduation.”

A loud ruckus draws Steve out of his concussed haze, and his good eye snaps open, causing the swollen one to throb.

“Fuck—what is that?”

“Ugh, poor Max,” Dustin mumbles, glancing towards the hall. “I think that’s her stepdad. Must be pretty pissed. But can you blame him?”

“Right…” Steve exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, though he still feels tense. “You wanna go see if she’s okay?”

“Nah, I think it’s probably safest to hang here.”

It’s then that Steve finally looks past Dustin. He spots Jonathan, dead to the world, in a chair by the window, his slumped form half in silhouette. It strikes him as odd that the guy would be worried about him—but of course he wouldn’t.

Will looks so small and pale tucked into the bed beside him. His usually straight hair is wavy from sweat; and the countless times his mom has probably pet his brow, no doubt. There’s no sign of Mike, or Nancy. Maybe they went to get something to eat, or went home. The sun is peeking over the horizon, and it’s clearly later than Steve thinks it is. But someone else is unexpectedly absent.

“Where’s Mrs. Byers?”

“Will’s mom?” Dustin glances at his sleeping friend. “Oh, she went to find Hopper, I think.”

Joyce returns just then, as if summoned, with a very distraught looking Max tucked under her arm.

“Take a seat anywhere, sweetheart,” Joyce says softly. “Oh, look; Steve’s awake. How’re you feeling, honey?”

Steve can’t even begin to put into words how good it feels to be called honey—even if it’s coming from his so-called rival’s mother. Not that he’s even sure Jonathan is his rival anymore. Not since he clearly came out the victor for winning Nancy’s heart.

“Uh, my head aches,” Steve mumbles, shrugging one shoulder. “But I think I’ll live. What was all that racket down the hall?”

Max takes a seat beside Will’s bed and reaches to hold one of his hands. For a few seconds, Joyce doesn’t reply, her gaze too focused on the girl’s small but heartwarming gesture.

“It was, um… Mr. Hargrove—the disturbance,” she replies at last, frowning. “He’s not very happy with his son right now.”

“Good riddance,” Dustin snorts. “Guy deserves whatever’s coming to him.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Max mutters without looking at him. “Billy’s a jerk—but I was the one who ran off to fight monsters. My stepdad’s just overreacting, like he always does.”

“Hm, maybe I should talk to him…”

“No, Steve,” Joyce says softly. “I think Hopper has things handled. But…” She glances at the doorway and sighs. “Maybe don’t press any charges?”

“Yeah, no. I mean, I wasn’t planning on it.” Steve can feel his chest tighten with anxiety, though he isn’t sure why. “Clearly the guy snapped. Normal people don’t hit other people over the head with plates.”

Joyce blinks at him, and Steve gets a sinking feeling that she didn’t know about that specific detail yet.

“Oh…”

“Billy will pay for any damages,” Max says, resting her chin in her other hand and yawning. “His dad’ll make sure he does.”

“I’m not really sure this is about that anymore, Max,” Joyce remarks, glancing at the door again. “Do, ah, your step-dad and Billy fight a lot at home?”

“They argue, sometimes. But mostly Billy just keeps really quiet and acts like he doesn’t give a shit about anything. Then he gets all mean when it’s just the two of us. Acts like he hates me.”

“Billy is mean to you?” Joyce repeats, unsure. “Why?”

“Because I’m the annoying little sister he never asked for,” she retorts, her eyes on Will’s slumbering face. “He blames me, I guess. For moving here. Like, I was the one who begged for us to leave California or something. Yeah, right.”

“Maybe he just picks on you because you’re smaller than him,” Jonathan mumbles, lifting his chin off his chest. “And ‘cause you’re always around, so he can never fully be himself.”

“He speaks,” Dustin chuckles. “We all thought you were sleeping.”

“Kinda hard with a whole conversation happening around me,” he teases. “No, it’s fine. But I get it—Billy. If his dad’s been throwing all these lofty expectations at him, essentially making him a third parent in their household—it’s not fair.”

“Yeah, I guess anybody could snap under that kind of pressure,” Steve says offhandedly. “Although, after the last couple of days, I don’t think I’d mind suddenly having a younger sibling.”

Dustin beams, and Max peeks at him over her shoulder, an almost-smile quirking her lips.

“I certainly have a new appreciation for you, Jonathan,” Steve adds, sighing. “God, what Will went through…you guys never gave up on him. I’m not sure if I’d have the strength to do what you did.”

“Will was strong too,” Joyce says, her fingers combing through her son’s hair and her breath hitching. “My boy’s such a fighter. Both of them are.”

“We come by it honestly,” Jonathan remarks, offering his mom a warm grin.

“Maxine—here you are.”

They all turn to find Susan standing in the doorway.

“I’m just visiting my friend, Mom,” Max says, glancing at Will. “He needs to know we care right now.”

Susan shifts her weight, nervously checking over her shoulder, then shakes her head.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Maxine, but we need to get going. Neil is taking Billy home.”

“But Billy’s in no shape to go home, Mom,” Max insists, her eyebrows furrowing. “I mean, how can the doctor and Chief Hopper let him leave?”

“It’s not their decision, honey,” Susan pleads, her head ducking as Neil’s voice grows closer.

That’s when they walk past the door, Billy and his militant father. Steve thinks he catches Billy peeking into the room behind Susan, his head low like a beaten dog following faithfully behind his master, but he’s gone too quickly to be sure.

“Let’s go, Maxine,” Neil barks, making his wife flinch.

One thing Steve is sure of, though, is that the newly crowned Keg King looks absolutely miserable, and his sister’s not much happier.

“Maxine—you heard him,” Susan huffs, waving at her daughter to get up, her tone more desperate than angry. “Hurry, please.”

Max gives Will’s hand a squeeze before letting it go and standing.

“Tell Will I’ll try to stop by when I can,” Max says apologetically. “Which, judging by how things are, might not be until after I turn eighteen and can’t be grounded anymore.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Joyce says quietly. “Or call Hopper at the station. He’ll come the quickest if anything happens.”

“I’ll try, I guess,” she sighs, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Yeah, sorry about everything, Max,” Dustin says hurriedly, standing as she leaves. “See you at school tomorrow.”

Max offers him a weak smile, then she gives Steve a little wave before ducking out of the room.

“Oh, dude. That was hard to watch,” Steve winces.

“Shut up, Harrington,” he grumbles. “I know she’s not my girlfriend, okay. I was only gonna tell her I’d give her an update on Will when I see her—but Max was gone too fast. Geez.”

“Do you need a ride home, Dustin?” Joyce says, smiling tiredly.

“Nah, my mom’s gonna pick me up in an hour. But thanks, Mrs B.”

“Did, um, Nancy and Mike leave yet?” Steve asks, glancing at Jonathan.

“Yeah, you just missed them,” Jonathan replies, looking a bit guilty. “Nance said you two talked—that you know about us…”

“Sadly, I remember our little chat,” he remarks, groaning. “Just as long as you make her happy. ‘Cause if you hurt her, I might have to find a way to sick Hargrove on you.”

“Steve,” Joyce says, clicking her tongue.

“No, it’s okay, Mom,” Jonathan says, biting back a laugh. “I have no intention of ever breaking Nancy’s heart—and Steve could never beat me up.”

“Yeah, Steve’s bad at fighting,” Dustin sighs, patting Steve’s shoulder. “I guess he’s all bark and no bite.”

“Well, I think it’s sad,” Joyce interjects. “A boy Billy’s age must’ve been badly mistreated to be that good at knocking somebody senseless like that. I feel sorry for him.”

“What do you mean by mistreated?” Steve asks, knitting his brows together as he lifts his head off the pillow. “The guy’s a bully. I think he’s the one doing the mistreating.”

“I probably shouldn’t say anything but…” Joyce glances at Jonathan and Dustin before returning her gaze to him. “Let’s just say Dr. Jackson found some tell-tale signs that Billy’s been through a lot of, um, physical altercations.”

“Again—he’s a menace,” he says, gesturing to his own face.

“Steve, get a clue,” Jonathan huffs, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. “I think my mom means that she and Hop believe Billy’s grown up with a dad that hits him. Like, a lot. And bad enough to leave evidence, even if most people can’t see it.”

“Oh…”

Steve lets his head drop back onto his pillow as this new information sinks in.

“Sure, but you guys had a terrible dad and you don’t go around punching other kids,” Dustin interjects.

“Right—because our mom stood up for us and sent him packing,” Jonathan says, smiling fondly at Joyce. “But it sounds like Billy’s mom left him. Maybe she was getting the worst of it. We can’t know, I guess.”

“If she was, Billy’s dad probably made sure she was isolated and had no way of supporting their kid without him. So, when she finally managed to leave, maybe she did want to bring him but she just couldn’t.” Joyce pauses to reach over and hold Jonathan’s hand. “I was lucky. I had a job and a house. Plus, if I’m honest, Lonnie’s a coward and a cheater. He didn’t put up much of a fight when I kicked him out.”

“Yeah, he’s living with a girl not much older than me, now,” Jonathan supplies, frowning. “Makes me sick.”

“Okay, but—shit,” Steve breathes, his head spinning, and not just from his concussion. “What can we do?”

“For now?” Joyce huffs out a sigh. “We wait and trust Hop will figure something out.”

“…Needs ta stop,” Will mumbles, his brows knitting together. “Gotta stop…”

“It’s okay, baby,” Joyce murmurs, pressing in close to Will and squeezing his hand tightly. “We stopped it. The gate is closed. You’re safe now.”

“Safe…” Will mutters. “Not safe.”

Joyce and Jonathan exchange a distraught look, and Dustin shrugs.

“Maybe he overheard us talking about Billy?” he offers. “Or his dad?”

“Go away,” Will mumbles, his brow creasing. “Go…”

The boy begins to quiet and he drifts off again, his expression relaxing.

“He’s gonna be okay, Joyce,” Steve soothes, not knowing what else to say. “It’s just gonna take time.”

“I know,” she says, her eyes red. “I just wish Bob was here.”

{~~~~~}

Billy can hear the lock latch outside his door the second it shuts. He doesn’t even get the chance for a shower, or to take a piss. Just a harsh shove before the door hits him in the ass.

“Could be worse,” he mumbles under his breath to nobody.

That’s when Billy looks around his room and realizes the impact of the violating search that took place in his absence.

His cassettes are all over the floor, and most of his drawers are thrown open with clothes hanging out of them. This isn’t such a big deal, he’s seen it all before, and has learned to hide anything of true value in less obvious places. Noticing that his favorite cologne and a few of his earrings have vanished, he thinks maybe he should be hiding those too.

Hand clutching the medallion hanging at his chest, Billy steps over his personal things littering the floor, and makes his way to the closet. He glances at the locked door before kneeling down and lifting the powder blue carpet, which has maintained its color better than the rest of the place. Once that’s rolled up, he moves a couple of floorboards.

He reaches into the hole and scoops out a small denim pouch. Slowly unzipping it, he breathes a sigh of relief when he finds his savings intact. The pouch contains all the money he’s been saving since Neil first let him get a summer job at fifteen. Well, all the money he’s managed to hide from Neil, anyway.

Buying the Camaro was part of his strategy. A real man should own his own car, bought with his own, hard-earned money. But Billy got a steal on the car, and worked detailing other cars for the guy who sold it to him back in California. Picked up some mechanic skills, too, which means he can manage to do most small repairs himself.

This summer will be the same.

Although most of Billy’s new friends—if he can call them that—are rich kids, they’ve already given him ideas for what’s popular and where he can work to make the most money. It’s been less than a week in this shithole, but Billy has his eyes set on working at the community pool. He’s more likely to get a job there than at the fancy country club, at least not without a haircut and some expensive clothes he’d rather not buy, and he can hopefully pick up extra cash by giving swim lessons.

That is, of course, if Steve Harrington stays out of his face and he doesn’t get expelled from school or worse—a beat down from Neil that leaves more than a few inconvenient, though temporary, bruises.

Billy counts the bills by feel, flipping through them with his thumb. Satisfied it’s all there, he tucks the pouch securely back in his hiding spot. Then he sits on the edge of the bed, suddenly wide awake, head pounding. He glares at the window sill, his fingers twitching, wishing his fucking window wasn’t nailed shut so he could have a smoke.

Yeah, Neil probably confiscated his pack of Marlboro Reds anyhow. He has another pack stashed in the glove compartment of his car, but that doesn’t do him any good at the moment.

“Fuck…”

Pressing his palms into his thighs, Billy lets out an agitated huff before standing up and setting about cleaning his room. He can’t know for sure how long Neil will leave him locked up under house-arrest—literally—but he figures it’ll be at least until it’s time for school on Monday morning.

So, he’d best have his room in order.

Weirdly, Billy doesn’t see his old man for the rest of the day, though he’s mercifully let out to relieve himself somewhere around eight o’clock. Without a single word, Neil unlocks his door and glares at him, his rage bubbling just below the surface as he nods him towards the bathroom.

When Billy goes to bed, his stomach is growling. He can’t even recall the last time he ate, and just hopes the IV fluids he received at the hospital might sustain him until he can grab something at school before class.

He doesn’t dare play any music to distract himself. Besides, Max borrowed his headphones again while he was blasting MTV and working out, or so he figures. And he can’t concentrate enough to read, or finish that paper for English—the one in his bag in the trunk of his Camaro.

It takes him a few moments to remember where his car actually is—at the Byers. That fucking creepy house at the end of a dirt road, in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Max wasn’t kidding when she said that kid—Will was what she called him, he thinks—was super sick. That house was covered in crazy drawings, like out of a horror movie. And what was with that syringe full of tranquilizer just sitting around, anyway?

“And I think I have problems…”

Billy’s heard the stories. How Will went missing and nobody could find him. Funny thing was, they buried him after a few days—or a fake body they were told was his. At least that’s what Hagan told him. But who knows what’s real and what’s a lie where Tommy H. is concerned. Then Will just showed up, alive, without explanation, and the town went on with their lives; like it never happened.

Closing his eyes, Billy tries not to think about what kind of sick fuck abducts a twelve year old boy and holds him somewhere for a goddamn week. His best guess, glancing around at his own cell, is his own father must’ve been involved somehow.

Billy tries again not to think about it, but it’s hard not to.

As he’s drifting off, something nasty scratches at Billy’s mind. A hazy memory of someone standing over him in that house—the Byers’ place. Drugged and helpless, Billy recalls somebody looming over him like a dark shadow. Someone taller and bigger than Max or her little friends.

The same someone who is suddenly standing over him; right now.

In his room.

In the dark.

Eyes almost glowing.

Evil.

Billy cries out, scared shitless, arms and legs flailing.

Whether he was awake or dreaming, he may never know—but the loud, heart-stopping bang on the outside of his door is very, very real.

“Shut the Hell up, boy! Decent people are trying to sleep! I hear one more peep outta you and you’ll be sorry!”

“Yes, s-sir,” Billy manages, though his voice cracks. “S-sorry, sir.”

“One. More. Peep,” Neil threatens before his stomping footsteps, thankfully, signal his departure.

Billy risks clicking on his light, his heart still drumming against his ribs, and he looks around the room. It’s empty, but the figure felt real enough.

Goosebumps prick Billy’s skin and he straightens his bedding. Clicking off his lamp, he drops back onto his pillow and hugs the covers closer to his chest. Then, as Billy closes his eyes, he sees Will’s pale, almost grey, face. Will’s eyes are closed, his breathing shallow, and Max holds the kid’s hand.

Billy tries to blink the image away—not knowing why he even looked into that hospital room in the first place.

Oh, yeah… Harrington.

His morbid curiosity got the better of him and Billy wanted to see Steve’s face. See the after effects of smashing that pretty mouth of his, and perfect cheekbones, with his fists. But it was a mistake—looking.

Not only did it feed Billy’s guilt of losing all control like that, but he also got to see Will Byers look like death itself.

It’s sad really, how Will could be surrounded by family and friends and Steve seemed to have nobody. The guy had to settle for second hand sympathy and comfort from Jonathan—the guy who stole his fucking girlfriend.

And yet, Billy still thinks Steve is better off than him.

Sleep finally takes him, dragging him down deep and saving him from any more nightmares.

 

Monday starts out like a blur.

They drive to school in the backseat of Neil’s Chevy, and Billy can feel Max glance at him, over and over; worried. He ignores her, or pretends to. As far as he’s concerned, whatever he said at the hospital never happened. He doesn’t want her pity, and he isn’t ready to forgive her for this new storm of shit she’s landed them both in the middle of.

No, Billy keeps his head down and does his best to make it through the day.

“I want both of you kids home after school. No practice, no study buddies—home straight away. Understand?”

Max almost rolls her eyes, but she plasters on a fake grin and nods.

“Sure, Neil. Maybe one of Billy’s friends can take us to get his car.”

Billy’s shoulders tense when Neil scoffs.

“I don’t care. Just be home by 3:30 sharp or we’ll have a problem.”

“Understood, sir,” Billy replies obediently.

After Neil drives off, Billy grabs Max’s arm. It’s not nearly as rough as he would’ve handled her a couple of days ago—before she threatened him with a bat covered in rusty nails—but it makes her flinch all the same.

“What?” she huffs.

“Did you really have to mention my car?”

“Well, how else are we gonna get home, moron? Fly?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, releasing her. “I’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Sure, and, um…” He stares at her until she meets his eyes again. “Are you okay?”

“Since when do you care?”

“It’s just, I know you didn’t eat anything yesterday. And Neil didn’t let you have breakfast—and you didn’t exactly get to go out for your dinner date on Saturday…”

“God, Max—I’m fine,” he barks, turning from her scrutinizing gaze. “Just shut up already. We’re gonna be late for school.”

He can hear her sigh and grumble something about him being a stubborn asshole, and yeah, he kind of is. He’s about to say something, maybe even thank her, or apologize, but the wheels of her skateboard hit the pavement and she’s rolling away before he gets the chance.

Just figures, he thinks to himself.

Keeping to himself isn’t too hard. It definitely helps that Harrington isn’t there. He notices Nancy at one point, her pretty eyes watching him as he passes her in the hallway, but her new boyfriend is absent, probably still babysitting his little brother or something.

Not that Billy cares.

 

“Look who’s not dead.”

Billy winces, hiding his annoyance behind his locker door before slipping on an easy air.

“Holloway—I can explain…”

Heather narrows her eyes and holds her books tightly against her chest, like a shield.

“Save it, California,” she says flatly. “I should’ve listened to Chrissy when she warned me you were a dog.”

He shifts his weight and snorts, acting unbothered.

“Really? You expect me to believe sweet little Cunningham called me names behind my back?”

“Don’t act like you know her,” she scoffs, flipping her ponytail behind her shoulder. “She’s dating Jason—your almost teammate—and he has a lot to say about you. Because, you see, that’s what happens when you stand a girl up for a double date. She spends all night shit-talking you.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar,” Billy mumbles, stepping closer and leaning on the locker beside her. “And I said I could explain. See, my kid sister took off and, well. Let’s just say it took most of the night to find her.”

Heather arches an eyebrow at him, and it’s like he can feel the temperature drop.

“Hagan’s spreading some bullshit story about Harrington corrupting your naïve little sis and luring her away in his Beamer. But—seriously,” she snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen you two together. That girl’s as fiery as her hair. And Stevie?” She leans closer, her voice low,” The poor boy’s a puddle of heartsick goo. No way he did anything so awful.”

“Says you,” he mutters. “Look, I didn’t tell Tommy anything like that. Yeah, Max was with her new friends. And, weirdly, Harrington was with them. But I never said he was doing anything. I mean, I kind of made sure he got the message to never try anything—not ever.”

“Wow, so chivalrous,” she deadpans. “What a hero.”

Heather turns her back on him, ready to walk away, and Billy’s blood boils.

“Hey! What’s your problem, Holloway?” he hollers, arms wide. “I was looking out for Max, okay? Gimme a break!”

The petite brunette swivels around and stomps up to him, her head tilted up to him and her eyes flashing dangerously.

“You know what, Hargrove?” she spits, swatting him in the chest with her history textbook, taking him by surprise. “I was ready to forgive you. Eager to give you a second chance. But I don’t trust you after that garbage you spread about sweet Stevie. So why don’t you just go out with whatever girl’s next on your list and just forget about me.”

“Geez, baby. I didn’t realize you were so hung up on His majesty, King Harrington.”

Billy actually staggers backwards when the tiny fury growls and takes another swing at him with her books.

“Lose my fucking number, asshole!” she cries, spinning on her heel.

With that, Heather storms off and the final bell rings, leaving Billy in a daze. Then he notices everybody looking at him and chattering. Luckily, as he straightens up and slams his locker, they scatter like the frightened sheep they are.

 

Still without his car, Billy manages to bum a ride with Tommy and Carol, much to Max’s horror.

“I don’t wanna go with them,” Max mutters, taking a step away from him, like he might grab at her again; like he always does.

“Thanks, Neil,” he thinks bitterly.

“Besides, I got us a ride,” she adds, hopeful. “One that’s way safer than hitching with those two psychos.”

Billy cocks his head, narrows his eyes, and slowly inhales before he can start shouting profanities at her.

“What. Ride?” he grits out.

“Hey, Hargrove,” Tommy calls while Carol leans on his car horn. “What’s the hold up, buddy?”

Max thumbs across the parking lot at Mike and Lucas, and Nancy fucking Wheeler, standing by a boat-sized station wagon with ugly mom-mobile faux-wood panelling on the sides.

“No way,” Billy spits, his upper lip curling. “I’m not going anywhere with those dorks, let alone Harrington’s ex.”

Max rolls her eyes.

“Oh, my God. Like you give a shit about Steve’s lovelife. C’mon, they’re doing us a favor.”

“Aw, what’s a-matter?” Carol taunts, hanging out the car window. “You gonna let your bratty step-sis yank on your balls, Hargrove, or what?”

“Yeah, screw her—we don’t need her,” Tommy cackles. “Let her go off and join the ‘Harrington casualty’ club.”

Billy groans internally as Nancy holds open the passenger door and taps her foot like she’s running late for a PTA meeting, or something. Honestly, what Harrington ever saw in her, he’ll never guess.

“Sorry, Tommy,” he mutters over his shoulder. “My old man’s riding my ass after I lost track of Max this weekend. Where she goes, I go. Maybe tomorrow, guys.”

“Booooo!” Carol jeers, honking at him. “Your sister sucks!”

“Yeah, ungrateful bitch,” Tommy adds, revving his engine. “After you beat the shit outta Harrington for her and everything.”

They squeal past him, and Billy hangs his head as he drags his feet over to the Wheeler Wagon.

Nancy gives him a pointed look as he gets in. Her stony silence is more irritating than anything she might say, though he can’t help but wanna know what her damn problem is.

“Thanks for the ride, I guess,” he mumbles, buckling his seatbelt.

“Sure. Am I taking you home or to get your car?” Nancy asks curtly as they pull onto the street.

“Home,” he sighs. “We’re both grounded, and can’t afford to be late.”

“Well, I can ask Jonathan to bring your car over later, if you want. But I’ll need your car keys.”

“I think my driver’s side window is open,” Billy remarks, thinking back. “Keys should be in my jacket pocket—on the seat.”

“Oh, okay,” she replies quietly.

“It’s Cherry Lane, Nancy,” Lucas supplies. “Right, Max?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Sure, you’d know where she lives, fucking stalker.”

Billy can feel both Wheeler siblings glare at him for that one.

“What?” he barks. “Sinclair was the one who started all of this by showing up at our house, uninvited!”

“Billy!” Max cries, kicking the back of his seat. “Shut up!”

“Honestly,” Nancy mumbles. “I take it you’re the one who told half the school about how you beat the shit out of Steve Saturday night, too.”

Steve’s poor minced face flashes behind his eyes, forming yet another pit of guilt in his stomach. He already took crap from Heather over this, he certainly doesn’t need another hot, heaping shovelful from her.

“Excuse me?” Billy gives her a hard sideways look.

“Everyone’s talking. Saying he lured your poor, naïve little sister to an abandoned building and tried to do unspeakable things to her on account that no other girl will touch him after I humiliated him at Tina’s party last week. C’mon, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“Look, princess, that was basically what happened, okay. At least from my perspective. But—I didn’t say shit about any of it. Tommy and Carol and their minions are the ones spreading rumours. Not me.”

“But you must’ve said something, asshole,” Mike scoffs.

“For your information, I said as little as possible after they heard Harrington was in the hospital, you little gremlin. So watch your mouth!”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Nancy shouts, throwing him a withering look. “Or do you want me to toss your denim clad ass out of this car?”

“Like to see you try,” Billy mutters, crossing his arms defiantly. “But your brother’s dead wrong. I didn’t say anything. Those two do whatever they want and spread stupid shit all the time, whether it’s true or not.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she says firmly. “You still shouldn’t let those idiots talk about Steve like that. He’s actually very sweet and gentle, and he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Right. So sweet that he probably spent weeks giving you driving lessons and then—what? You just got bored once you finished using him? I mean, seriously, Wheeler. What did King Steve actually do to make you treat him so badly all of a sudden? And don’t say it was the company he keeps because, as far as I can tell, you were it. Like, the guy gave up everything to be your boyfriend. Friends, status, reputation. He worshiped you and you spat in his face before running off with Jonny Byers; one of the only people in this shitty town he might even consider a real friend.”

Nancy hits the breaks so hard that Billy nearly whacks his head on the windshield. Luckily, Lucas throws his arm out, protecting Max from flying forward. This fact buys him a few points with Billy, or it would if he wasn’t so stunned by Nancy’s unexpected display of backbone.

“My relationships are none of your goddamn business, Billy Hargrove,” Nancy says, voice low and eerily calm, though her gray-blue eyes are stormy. “I mean, God. For some nobody who just showed up here, you sure seem to know a hell of a lot about Steve. You sound almost as obsessed about him as Hagan, which is saying a lot. If it’ll get you to shut up—I broke up with Steve because he was trying to be somebody he’s not with me. Okay? And that made me somebody I’m not. Clearly. Because who gets senselessly drunk and dumps such a sweet, caring guy like that?”

“I’m sorry,” Billy chuckles, desperate to defuse how awkward and uncomfortable he now feels for saying anything. “Is the sweet and caring shit real, or just part of his fake persona? ‘Cause the tough guy who punched me Saturday night was nothing like that.”

“Wow—you deaf or something?”

“Mike,” Lucas hisses.

“No, really. I think this Neanderthal needs it explained,” Mike continues, unbothered. “Steve’s a good guy—would put himself in harm’s way to save anybody he cares about. That’s why he hit you, you psychopath. It wasn’t some macho bullshit stunt. We were scared of you—you went after Lucas—and he stepped in. And if I’d realized giving Max a ride involved having you in the same car as me and Lucas—the boy you threatened with bodily harm, I might add—then I would’ve told her to walk. But, no. Nancy felt sorry for you.”

Billy turns in his seat, his face fisted with fury and outrage. Then he glimpses Max pressed into Sinclair’s side, and the fearful looks on both of their faces, and he feels about two inches tall.

“Fine,” he huffs, his anger bleeding into shame as he turns back around and opens the passenger door. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Billy…” Max calls weakly after him. “Don’t…”

“Yeah, don’t be silly,” Nancy says dismissively. “I can still take you—”

“It’s fine,” Billy interrupts, getting out and slamming the car door. “We’re only a couple of blocks away. Thanks anyway, Wheeler. But I don’t want your misplaced pity.”

His shame only gets worse as they crawl along beside him the rest of the way home, but his damn pride won’t let him acknowledge them, or even look over.

 

Somehow, they still make it home on time.

Billy thinks he can just go hide in his room and start on his homework. He can figure out a way to pick the Camaro up later if Byers doesn’t come through. Although, why would he after Billy jumped down his girlfriend’s throat like he did?

Only Neil is at home when they get there; waiting.

“Go outside, Maxine,” Neil says soberly, his hands on his hips—no. His hands are on his belt buckle. “I need to have a word with your brother.”

“But… I have homework,” she says slowly, stepping towards her room.

“I said outside,” he growls, eyes flashing dangerously at her. “Go get some fresh air, like a good girl.”

Max’s gaze flits up to Billy as she slinks past him, her school bag still looped on one shoulder and her taped-up skateboard tucked under her arm.

“Seriously?” Billy huffs, taking off his jacket and gesturing at the front door. “Max ran off—and you’re rewarding her with free time?”

“What did you just say to me?” Neil seethes. “Did you just backtalk me, boy?”

Billy’s body reacts before his brain can even process that Neil has slipped his belt off. Even before the door closes, and Max is out of view, his old man has his switch at the ready.

For a few excruciating seconds, Billy feels cemented in place and is unable to move. Then the shaking starts, trembling all over as he hears the snap of leather against bare skin.

It’s only as his palms burn and sting that it sinks in—that he put his hands up, trying to protect himself. This act is almost worse than talking back. Worse still, as Neil’s face twists in an ugly scowl and his arm draws back, Billy rushes for his bedroom.

Something crashes off the mantle behind him, most likely the collection of seashells he used to find on the beach with his mom. Susan discovered them after they married and placed the colorful collection in a large vase, claiming it as her own. Billy didn’t care because he liked seeing the shells displayed proudly in their house, much to Neil’s secret annoyance.

Neil’s belt must’ve hit it when Billy ducked away, sending the vase shattering on the floor. But as much as it pains him, it also buys Billy a few seconds to get behind his bedroom door. He tries to hold the door closed, planting his feet, but Neil charges like an enraged bull, knocking the door into his face, and sending Billy toppling over.

Trying desperately to crawl out of reach, Billy finds there’s nowhere to go, and no place to hide.

“Why don’t you ever learn?” Neil growls, kicking his steel-toed boot into Billy’s ribs. “If I find out you’re back to your old, shameful shit—like whatever you were doing in California—you’re dead! Believe me. Dressing up like you did, and just expecting me to believe you were meeting a girl? Do you really take me for a fool? And with that Harrington boy—really?” Another kick and Billy’s sure he feels something snap. “You’ve left me no choice, William. Just gonna have to beat the queer right out of you!”

That’s when the yelling stops and the taut leather hits the plains of his back and shoulders.

Again and again, and again.

 

…

Chapter Text

Hopper slides into the driver’s seat in his cruiser. He takes a deep breath, probably the hundredth he’s taken that morning alone, and Steve climbs in beside him.

As the chief turns the key in the ignition, Steve notices the old take-out coffee cup in the holder. He easily pictures the milk curdling in the half-drunken contents inside the covered, long-forgotten cup, and thinks that’s how the lump in his stomach feels.

Sour and sickening.

“Buckle up, kid.”

Steve startles, his staring contest with the cup broken, and he fumbles with his seatbelt. Hopper’s tired gaze watches him until the crisp click signals he’s secure. They slowly roll out of the hospital parking lot and onto the road, but Steve doesn’t feel any better. He’s not exactly going home, and feels weird about it. Then again, he’d probably feel just as apprehensive if he was going home; especially if his parents were there.

“Taking you to Henderson’s place, right?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” he replies hazily. “Claudia—Dustin’s mom, she invited me to crash with them until my parents get home. They’re, ah, at this land developer thing. Well, my dad is. My mom just always goes with him. Hey, did you hear they’re building a mall just north of here, out past the highway?”

“I did,” Hop sighs, his fingers tapping the steering wheel to a silent tune. “That blowhard, Mayor Kline, made it a priority. Our diligent farming community is in crisis over their dead and ruined crops, but he’d rather dump our tax money into promoting some giant, soul-sucking, concrete eyesore. Distract his voters from important issues with frivolous spending and consumer culture.”

Steve glances at the man sideways.

“C’mon, Hop. Malls are fun. Plus, it’ll give the teens in this town something to do besides committing vandalism and having sex.”

Hopper snorts, a smirk quirking one corner of his mouth.

“I suppose you speak on behalf of said teens, do you?”

“I mean…”

Steve shrugs and the police radio crackles, saving him from having to elaborate.

“Domestic disturbance reported at 4819 Cherry Lane by a neighbor. Sounds pretty serious. Somebody ought to check it out.”

“Goddamn it—that’s the Hargrove place. I was gonna check in on them after I dropped you. Fucking Neil—” Hopper hisses, pulling onto the shoulder of the road. He idles the engine and reaches for the radio. “Heya, Flo. This is Chief Hopper. How long ago did the call come in?”

In the seconds it takes Florence to answer, Steve’s mind reels. Max may have started out as some random girl to him, but she’s one of them now, and he couldn’t live with himself if she got hurt all because her stepdad had another blowup at her brother.

Then his gut twists as he recalls what Joyce and Jonathan had implied; and now he can’t help but worry about Billy, too.

“About five minutes. Powell and Callahan are still tied up with that mess at the Hawkins’ lab, but I can pull ‘em away if you’ve got your hands full, Chief.”

“Said it was a neighbor who called it in?”

“Technically yes. Apparently the wife isn’t at home and the girl—Max? She went to the neighbor for help. Sounded pretty frazzled.”

“Shit…”

Hop clicks on the siren and pulls back onto the road, picking up speed; and Steve’s pulse races along with them.

“Show me as responding, Flo. And I’m gonna need backup, I’m afraid. Pull Powell. The Feds aren’t really letting us in on anything, anyway. He’s probably just standing around for appearances.”

“Will do, Chief,” Flow response. “I’ll stand-by in case you need anything else.”

‘Yeah, like an ambulance or a hearse,’ Steve thinks.

Hopper sets the radio on the dash and glances at Steve.

“Sorry, kid. Gonna need to make a detour.”

“No, s’fine,” Steve says shakily. “Max knows me—I wanna help.”

“Great, but you’ll be staying in the cruiser, Harrington,” he says sternly. “Can’t have you getting in the middle of whatever we’re walking into. I mean, damn. You’d think the guy would know better, having just picked up and moved his whole damn family. Not to mention how Billy’s already on our radar. It’s like the guy thinks his shit don’t stink here ‘cause we live in the backwoods of nowhere. Fuckin’ monster.”

Not really having a coherent reply, or being sure one is required, Steve stays quiet. He can already feel his jaw tense, teeth gritting, the closer they get. If the display at the hospital was well controlled anger, he’d hate to see what Neil Hargrove is like in private.

Unfortunately, they’re about to find out.

 

Max is sitting on the front stoop of the house across the road from her house. With the slope and wide street, she’s at a pretty safe distance. But Max is still staring intently at their house, watching, on guard.

Hopper waves politely to the white haired woman in the window, flashing her a schooled smile and tipping his hat.

“Hey, Max,” Hopper says softly. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”

Steve can’t help getting out of the cruiser, even after he was told not to. It’s not like he’s going over to confront anybody. But Max is visibly trembling, and he might not be good at much, but Steve knows he’s good with frightened kids.

“I thought I told you…”

Hopper simply huffs out an exasperated sigh as he carefully walks closer to Max.

When Steve sits down beside her, Max doesn’t collapse into him or anything, she’s too proud for that. But Steve feels her lean in a little as some of the anxiety bleeds out of her, and into him, when he places a gentle arm around her back.

“Told me to go outside and play,” she says quietly, eyes still transfixed on their front porch. “Like I’m a child. Like I didn't just run off the other day. That’s usually when the yelling starts. But when I closed the front door, I heard a door slam and maybe something hitting the floor. And Neil started yelling. Something about California.” She pauses to glance at Steve. “And about you.”

“Is that when you came over here?” Hopper asks, flipping open a small notebook.

Max shakes her head, the mere motion loosening her tears, causing wet tracks to streak down her cheeks.

“No,” she replies, sounding so small. “The yelling, breaking things, door slams. That’s normal. I ran over to Mrs. Bishop’s when it stopped. When it got quiet. So quiet I could hear…” Max stops again and meets Hopper’s eye. “Enough talking to me. You need to check on my asshole brother. God—I never should’ve talked to him like that. I was just so sick of his bullshit. But I know better. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like an animal. He used to be sweet to me. I just—please. Please get over there, Chief.”

“Okay, kid. I’m going.” He turns to Steve, who almost doesn’t notice. “Stay here with Max. Actually—” A second cruiser pulls up, and Hop nods to his deputy. “Go sit in the back of Powell’s truck. We’ll handle Neil and make sure Billy’s okay. Okay?”

“C’mon, Max.”

Steve’s body is in motion before he even fully realizes it, and he vaguely wonders why his name came up during Neil’s tirade. He figures it must have to do with the fact that Billy beat him up, and how rich his parents are, and of all the people in town, Billy had to pick a fight with a Harrington.

Yeah, that must be it.

Powell lowers his sunglasses and squints at them, his mustache twitching.

“You okay, kid? You hurt?” he asks warmly.

“No, I’m fine,” Max responds, climbing into the backseat when Hopper holds the door for her.

“We arresting the girl?” Powell asks, chuckling.

“Nope—just wanna keep her safe,” Hop tells him. “You’re with me. Harrington—stay.”

The two officers are crossing the street when the Hargroves’ front door flies open. The screened-in porch door is next, its hinges creaking loudly before it bangs against the frame.

“If you’re here to check on my unruly son, he’s been sorted,” Neil calls as he blocks their way. “My girl should be out here, though. Little thing has a habit of taking off.”

“We know where Max is,” Hop says easily. “Now, if you’ll step aside, we’ve been made aware of a very loud disturbance coming from these premises.”

“Boy was talking back; you know how that is.”

Even from behind the tinted windows, Steve can see the flash of red on Neil’s knuckles. The man tries to hide the evidence of his abuse from them, but Hopper’s not blind, or stupid.

“You should go,” Max mumbles.

“Go?”

Steve squints at her with a mix of confusion and offense. He’s trying to comfort her, after all. Make her feel safe.

“Yeah,” she huffs, gesturing out the window. “Go check on my dumb brother while the grownups work through their bullshit. There’s a side door off the kitchen—opposite from the bedrooms.”

She points and Steve does his best to follow her direction. He can’t see a door from where they are, but she has no reason to lie.

“I couldn’t sneak out that way because Billy was blocking my path, so I went out through my window.”

“Your window?” Steve asks slowly. “Where’s that?”

“Don’t bother,” she snorts bitterly. “The warden nailed it shut. Just like Billy’s. Use the side door. Go!”

Neil keeps stalling, doing his annoying song and dance, and Steve manages to slip out of the cruiser and hurry along the neighbor’s lawn, hugging their wall. In retrospect, having Powell join him was both an advantage and a detriment. Steve catches a few colorful words thrown at the deputy as he listens, making sure he’s in the clear before trying the door. Words he’d never repeat.

“No wonder Max had to sneak out to see Lucas,” he mutters under his breath. “The guy’s a fuckin’ racist.”

Lucky for Steve, the door is unlocked.

Like a ninja, he stealthily crouches his way into the kitchen—and bangs his head on some hanging pots as he stands up.

“Fuck—”

Steve swiftly steadies them and freezes, waiting to see if anyone will come running. When nobody comes, he ducks low and hurries into the main area of the house. Having never been here before, he peeks into the first bedroom, down the hall. It’s all sage green and pink florals, and screams ‘master bedroom my wife decorated’.

The next bedroom is a shoe box by comparison. Horror movie posters plastered on the walls offset by small feminine touches, probably thanks to her mom as well, let him know this is Max’s room.

Then Steve reaches the last bedroom, right by the front door.

“Because of course it is,” he huffs in his head. “Where else would you house your attack dog but by the front entrance?”

The door is closed, so Steve tries to nudge it open with his shoulder. When it doesn’t budge, but the handle rotates, he looks up to discover a bolt lock at the top of the door.

“What the actual fuck?”

Glancing out the door, Steve spots Neil’s back and shoulders. He’s walking down the porch steps now, still peddling his bullshit excuses; and buying Steve time. Sliding the bolt out of the way, he cracks the door open a few inches. Fearing an angry Hargrove jump-scare, he’s surprised to find the room vacant.

No, not vacant. Just seemingly so.

There’s a quiet whimpering coming from somewhere behind the single-sized bed. Having a king himself, Steve can’t quite imagine how a beast like Billy even fits on such a sad excuse for a bed.

‘Focus!’ he hisses internally. ‘Somebody’s obviously hurt.’

That’s when it finally sinks in. Those pathetic sounds coming from somewhere between the bed and the wall must belong to Billy.

Crouching, Steve crawls on the floor on his hands and knees until he finally finds the source.

“Oh, no…”

Billy is curled into a ball, hugging his knees, his face hidden in the gap between his knees and chest.

Glancing around, Steve doesn’t see any obvious signs of a fight. Sure, there was some broken glass and a pile of something—seashells?—on the floor in the living room. But nothing in this bedroom suggests anything bad happened here.

Well, except maybe the crumpled heap in the corner.

“Hey, Billy—”

A pair of stormy, bloodshot eyes as blue as the ocean snap up to glare at him through dark, wet lashes. Whatever rage was building is quickly overtaken by fear.

“Get out!” Billy growls, almost pleadingly; desperate. “You can’t fucking be in here!”

Steve sees how Billy’s fingers dig into his own knees, knuckles bleeding white, the denim pulling taut. He also notices a fresh bruise blooming on his left cheekbone, and blood coming from a split in his lower lip.

“I came to get you,” Steve whispers. “Hop’s distracting your dad. Max is worried, okay? Just—come with me.”

Steve holds his hand out, palm up, and tries to pretend it isn’t trembling like it is. But Billy just stares at it, then knocks it away, wincing like he’s the one getting smacked.

“What hurts?”

“Not talking to you, pretty boy,” Billy bites out. “Just go. I mean it.”

“There are two cops outside,” Steve points out. “Your old man isn’t gonna do anything to me. Come on, Hargrove. Get up.”

Having tried the gentle approach, Steve moves closer and attempts to wrestle Billy onto his feet. This, of course, is a huge mistake.

Billy cries out, seemingly as shocked as Steve by his uncontrollable outburst, and recoils from him.

“I hardly touched you. Shit—I’m sorry. What'd I do?”

Still wounded from his all too recent breakup, Steve’s heart feels like another chunk just broke off. Which, rationally, is so stupid but still feels all too real.

“Fuck. Talk to me, Hargrove,” he soothes. “Where are you hurt?”

Billy doesn’t answer. He just curls in on himself until he’s as small as physically possible. But, in doing so, he turns his shoulder on him, exposing his flank, and the dark stain setting into his plain white t-shirt.

“Oh, my God…”

“Who the Hell are you?”

Steve whips his head around, tweaking a neck muscle, but Neil’s threatening hand comes at him before he even knows what’s happening. His guardian angel must be working overtime, because Powell drags Neil away before he can actually touch him.

“Get your dirty hands off me, goddamn it!”

“Easy, Calvin,” Hopper soothes, patting his back. “Just go outside say you’ll go outside, Mr. Hargrove, and he’ll let you go. I need to check on your son; like we discussed.”

“That was before I caught his faggot boyfriend sneaking into his room!” Neil thunders, wagging a finger at Billy. “What did I tell you, boy?”

Billy trembles behind Steve, covering his head with his hands.

“Excuse me, but I’m the guy whose ass Billy beat the other day. Not his boyfriend,” Steve spits, furious. “And maybe you don’t pay any mind to his behavior, but your son’s been out with half the girls in his class since he arrived a week ago. So, I don’t really know—”

“Steve!” Hop hollers, juggling his cuffs. “Stop. Talking. Please!”

“Oh…yeah. Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks burning.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Neil argues, eyeing the handcuffs. “This is my home. You can’t just come in here and throw your weight around.”

“Oh, good. I was wondering when the backhanded comments about my weight would start,” Hop snorts. “So, nothing in this house is suspect? Not even like the lock on the outside of your son’s bedroom door?” Hop adds, cool and slow. “Or perhaps the nails in his window frame? Let me guess, you’ll be nailing Max’s window shut next?”

“Yeah, he already did that, Hop,” Steve says, wincing. “Max told me.”

Neil casually crosses his arms, though his nostrils flare, giving away his annoyance.

“If there’s a lock, I never noticed it. Must’ve been installed by the previous owners. And I didn’t nail anything shut—we rent. That would violate our tenant agreement.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Hopper says, glancing at Billy. “What do you say, kid? Your old man ever lock you in your room?”

Billy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even budge.

“Don’t answer that,” Neil hisses. “My son’s a minor—and I refuse to allow you to question him like that.”

“Okay, okay,” Powell says evenly. “How about this? You and Billy come outside and we talk like civil people; get the whole story?”

“I told you. My boy has nothing to say.”

“Then how about he just stands up,” Hopper interjects, arching an eyebrow. “C’mon, kid. Get to your feet, and stand up straight, and we’ll pack up and go.”

“This is ludicrous,” Neil mutters with a derisive snort.

“Hop—he can’t,” Steve says, needing to say something. “His back…it’s all cut up. And Billy says his ribs hurt. I don’t think he can get up on his own.”

Hopper looks pointedly down at Neil’s belt, and Steve follows his gaze, seeing what he does. Not only did Neil miss a loop in his pants when he slipped the leather belt back on in a hurry, but there’s a distinct darkening at the edges; a wetness.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you after all, Mr. Hargrove.”

“What for?” Neil spits.

“Oh, we think you know what for,” Powell says smartly. “Turn around.”

“My daughter—Maxine. She’s still out playing!”

“No, she’s not,” Hopper says, giving Neil a forceful nudge in the right direction and clipping the cuffs on his wrists, nice and tight. “She’s perfectly safe and we’ll be sure to keep her that way.”

“Where’s your wife, Mr. Hargrove?”

“I told you, she’s at work.”

“Uh huh…” Hopper glances at Powell. “Well, we’ll be sure to give her a call to fill her in. But don’t worry, we’ll be discreet about it.”

“C’mon, Billy,” Steve pauses to push the bed and make more space so he can crouch beside the injured boy. “We’ll get up—together. Nice and slow.”

“Think…” Billy sucks air through his gritted teeth. “Think he cracked my ribs.”

“Which side?”

“Left,” he says tightly, blinking back tears.

“‘Kay, I’ve got you on your right, then,” Steve soothes. “Count of three.”

Billy nods weakly, and Steve tucks his shoulder under his arm.

“One. Two…”

Billy cries out and looks like he might puke, or pass-out, when Steve jerks him onto his feet.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve says, and he means it. “Try to breathe, okay? In and out. Nice and even. We won’t move again until you're ready.”

“Should just do it,” he retorts, chest heaving. “Can’t stand like this much longer.”

“Okay, here we go.”

Billy leans his weight into him more than he anticipated, and the guy’s heavy; solid. But somehow they manage to get out of the house, down the steps, and into the back of Powell’s truck.

“Wait—” Billy’s hand clutches Steve’s arm as he tries to go. “Closet, under the floor. I need my pouch.”

“We’ll bring you back when you’ve recovered to get your stuff, kid,” Powell says gently. “I need to get you looked at.”

“Please, Harrington?”

“Okay, yeah. Anything else you need?”

“My photo of me and my dad,” Max says quietly. “It’s in the top drawer of my bedside table.”

Steve offers her a soft smile and nods.

“Got it. I’ll be right back, Powell. Don’t leave without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckles. “You’re a really good friend, Harrington. Glad you were with the chief, if I’m honest.”

Steve beams, though he isn’t really sure he deserves such high praise for doing something any decent person would do in his place.

“Thanks, um. I’ll be right back.”

{~~~~~}

Voices filter into Billy’s consciousness. Voices he recognizes but has trouble understanding why they’re so close to him.

Even when he starts to remember things, he still doesn’t fully understand everything. The lashes of leather cutting into his flesh, the ride in the back of a police cruiser, arriving at the hospital, and having to stand around for what felt like hours while they took about a million pictures of his injuries—so humiliating.

Then there was Harrington being so fucking soft with him for no logical reason.

None of it makes any sense to him.

“How ya holding up?” Hopper mumbles, sighing heavily.

Billy thinks he might have to answer, but is relieved when somebody else does.

“I’m managing,” Joyce replies unconvincingly. “Jackson says Will should be able to go home in a few days. That is if he can get up and walk around by then.”

“Has he even been awake for more than a few minutes?”

“No, not really,” she admits quietly. “At least…”

“What is it, Joyce?” Hopper prompts when she falls silent. The man sounds patient, gentle, and not at all like he’s trying to rush her. “At least what?”

“I talked to Patty Newby earlier. She’s coming to town tomorrow—will take over things…” Joyce lets out a strained breath. “I just feel so bad, Hop. I know they didn’t have the best relationship, but having to bury her brother, her only remaining family? It’s going to be a lot.”

“And it isn’t for you? Weren’t you two talking about moving in together; even getting out of Hawkins?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

There’s another pause and Billy manages to crack his eyes open, and is just able to make out the two silhouettes against the hazy light filtering in from the hallway.

“The boys’ whole lives are here. Dangerous or not,” she continues, “this is their home. The only home they’ve ever known. I really cared about Bob. Maybe I even loved him… Love him still. But to leave Hawkins? I mean, it’s over now, isn’t it? All of it?”

“El closed the main gate, yeah,” Hopper supplies, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder. “Once Sam’s up and about, he’ll make sure there aren’t any pockets we missed. Gonna be a huge clean-up, what with all those rogue tunnels and such, but I think so. I think we’re past the worst of it.”

“God, we should’ve known better. Should’ve known those liars wouldn’t have taken care of things after we got Will back. We never should’ve trusted—”

Hopper pulls Joyce into his chest and holds her tightly.

“I know, Joy. I’m so sorry. For all of it, even the parts I couldn’t control. Bob, your kid—mine. It was a shitshow all around.”

“Just need to know we’re all safe now,” she warbles, breath hitching. “Safe and protected in a way that even moving away could never guarantee.”

Hop gently cups her chin and tilts her face up to him.

“You are—I swear. I won’t let anything else happen to you, or the kids. And I can handle things when Patty gets here. Make all the arrangements. You just let me know if you wanna say goodbye before whatever needs doing is final.”

“Thanks, Jim,” she murmurs, sniffling. “I mean it. But what about, you know…”

Billy can feel them both turn to look at him, and he closes his eyes, pretending he’s still fully under the influence of whatever wonderful drugs they gave him for his pain.

“Yeah, I’m still working on it,” Hopper says, sounding exasperated. “I’m waiting to hear back about when a social worker can come down from Indianapolis. The sister, Max—she’s pretty shaken. But Harrington’s been great. She’s, um, at the Henderson’s for now. I would’ve let her go to stay with the Sinclairs, but that felt like it might be… Ah, asking too much right now.”

“You mean from Charles and Sue, or from the universe?” Joyce asks skeptically.

“Mr. Hargrove took a swing at Powell and called him something fairly unsavoury while already inside the police station; and this was after being arrested and reading him his rights. So, you tell me.”

“I’m honestly not surprised. I just don’t understand why he snapped all of a sudden.”

“You, and me, both. Most I can figure is this isn’t the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last if they don’t get away from the bastard.”

“Those poor kids,” she murmurs, leaning into his chest. “You know I’d take them in if I could, but everything’s such a mess right now. Poor Jonathan is trying to clean up the house with Nancy so that Will doesn’t have to see it like it is.”

“Hey, they’ll be okay. You worry about you and your own boys.”

“You know, you could take them…”

Hopper chuckles; it’s a tired but amused rasp.

“Oh, sure. I’ll take them to live out in the woods in my cabin where I only just finished a small extension so that I don’t have to sleep in the main room. Plus there’s my girl—she’s not exactly supposed to exist. So, not a great idea, I’m afraid.”

“Max already knows about her, Jim,” Joyce argues softly. “And I think Billy can understand why certain secrets are important enough to be kept.”

“Let me think about it. Besides, Billy isn’t going anywhere tonight. Thank God.”

“Well, I could use a coffee,” she remarks, patting his arm as she moves away. “Come on, help me pick something out from the vending machine for Will. He deserves something nicer than jell-o to get his blood sugar up.”

“Sure thing,” Hopper hums. “And maybe we can get something for Billy, too. Let him see we’re not the bad guys in this.”

“I think he knows, Jim.”

They continue chatting as they leave, their voices fading as they move further down the hall.

Billy breathes out a sigh, his eyes pricking with unbidden tears. As much as he wants to believe his own ordeal might be finally over, he’s having trouble accepting it. And whatever the chief and Will’s mom were talking about, it sounds bad. It also sounds like maybe Max was tangled up in it, which really has his head spinning.

“What the fuck were you doing, Max?” he whispers hotly to nobody.

“Hm?”

The tiny sound sets Billy on edge. Just yesterday—was that yesterday?—he was alone in his hospital room. Today it seems he very much isn’t.

“You’re not Steve,” the little voice says in the bed beside him. “Where’s Steve?”

“Thought I smelled Harrington’s fuckin’ hairspray.” Billy huffs out a breath and turns his head. Rolling over might prove too painful. “Yeah, he’s gone home; or, um, to that Henderson kid’s house, I think.”

“Oh…”

Billy feels a little exposed as the younger boy watches him with his big eyes. Eyes which seem all the larger by how sunken and hollow they’ve gotten since his apparent breakdown.

“You doing okay, kid? Think your mom just stepped out for a minute. It’s Will, right?” He pauses while the boy nods. “I’m, ah, Billy. I’m Max’s older brother.”

“Why’re you here?” Will asks, voice hoarse, squinting at him. “Were you hurt, Billy?”

This makes him wince, and the kind concern hangs over him like a noose of guilt. After all, why should some poor, sweet sick kid even care about him?

“Had a bit of a misunderstanding with my old man,” Billy admits, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Chief Hopper seems to think he can get me out from under his thumb, but I doubt it.”

Will rolls onto his side and leans a little closer. Billy's heart squeezes at seeing him so engaged. From the sounds of things, the boy hasn’t done much more than sleep in the last two days. He just hates that it’s his fucked-up life that’s got this kid’s attention.

“If Hop says he’s gonna do something, he does it,” Will mumbles. “Sorry you got hurt, though. My dad dislocated my shoulder once. It sometimes still pops out if I tweak it the wrong way.”

“That so? Bet it really grosses out your friends,” Billy says, fighting a grin.

“A little, but our friend, Dustin, can do all kinds of cool stuff. He doesn’t have collar bones.”

“Oh, he’s got you beat, then?”

Will grins.

“Yeah, he does. Some of the kids at school make fun of him for it, but I think it’s cool. I mean, it’s part of what makes him who he is.”

“Other kids can be such assholes,” he mutters, sighing. “But I’m afraid I’m just like them.”

“You don’t have to be, you know,” Will says quietly. “Everybody has a choice about who they wanna be.”

“That so?”

Billy arches an eyebrow, which hurts a little to do, and Will nods before resting his head on his pillow.

“And what about you?” he hedges. “Why’re you here, making your mom so sick with worry?”

“Was battling monsters in my head,” Will mumbles, yawning. “Guess I won—with their help. Mom, Jonathan, Nancy, and Mike. I remember; they talked to me. Helped me find my way back to them.”

The soft, almost dreamy way Will says his friend’s name leaves Billy wondering if the two boys are more than friends. Maybe a lot more. It feels foreign to him, though. To place so much trust and faith in another person like that. Especially if it’s in a romantic way.

“You’re lucky to have so many people who give a shit about you,” Billy says, a touch of bitterness slipping in. “I’m only just figuring out that I’ve got Max in my corner. But I honestly don’t know why. I’ve never been especially nice to her.”

“You’re her big brother. Isn’t that enough reason?”

“Not really,” he sighs.

“Mm…”

Will is quiet for a moment, his eyelids growing heavy with fatigue.

“Hey, Will? Those monsters in your head—what did they look like?”

“Like shadows, mostly,” he mumbles, yawning again. “Sometimes like my dad, though. And sometimes like people I know, only not. Darker, meaner; you know?”

“What about a really tall man with piercing blue eyes? Lanky and wispy, like a tree at the edge of a swamp?”

Will’s eyes snap open so wide that Billy can actually see flecks of green in them, even in such poor light.

“You saw him too?” he whispers, trembling.

“Not sure. Might’ve.”

“Where?”

“Um, at your house…” Billy says carefully. “But, it’s not real, right? Sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

“You being an asshole, or did you really see him?” Will asks, lifting his head, his gaze serious.

“Like I said—I think I did. But, I’m not sure.”

“Tell me if you do for sure, okay? You gotta swear.”

“Yeah, okay, kid. I swear.”

The look of fear slowly bleeds out of him, and Will drops back onto his pillow again.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Will adds, his eyes falling shut like he couldn’t keep them open any longer, even if he wanted to. “Not yet. Not until you’re sure, okay.”

“Promise I won’t,” Billy vows, his mouth suddenly dry and his ribs aching. “Just go back to sleep.”

“You’ll be here, right? When I wake up.”

“Can’t exactly leave,” he assures him, staring at the blank, wall-mounted television. “Don’t really want to either, if I’m honest.”

“Good,” Will sighs. “I mean… Sorry ‘bout what happened, but I’m sort of glad for some company.”

“Sure thing,” Billy mumbles. “Must not wanna be alone, huh?”

“It’s when I’m alone that he comes back,” he says shakily.

“Yeah, well. Nobody’s gonna hurt you while I’m here. I might be shit at protecting myself, but I’ll keep ya safe, kid.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Billy can almost feel the wave of relief wash over the younger boy. He steals a glance at Will as he drifts off back to sleep, and is left still wondering why he was so nice to him.

Weaklings like Will Byers were his prime targets in middle school, and although nowadays he takes aim at bigger fish—like Harrington—he still enjoys stepping on anybody smaller than him. So, why then is he being so gentle with Will?

The easy answer is because the kid’s already lying in a hospital bed, and there’s hardly any more damage he could possibly do to him. The harder answer is that he sees himself in Will.

Billy doesn’t like the harder answer.

Thankfully, Joyce returns and he can stop thinking about it for a while. She brings with her a warm aura of freshly brewed coffee and the soft crinkling of candy wrappers.

“He just knocked off,” Billy croaks, whispering just loud enough to catch her attention.

“Oh, was he awake?” she asks, slinging her purse on the back of the chair between the beds and taking a seat. “How did he seem—did you talk to him?”

“Um, a little,” he says, clearing his throat. “Was pretty lucid, but he got tired real fast.”

“Yeah, he’s been through a lot.”

Joyce pops back up and sets the treats on the little nightstand before pouring a cup of water and offering it to him.

“You sound thirsty,” she murmurs, crouching to help him bring the cup to his mouth. “Take a few sips for me?”

Billy keeps his eyes on her as he has a few gulps, easing his parched throat. He didn’t need an IV this time and hadn’t noticed how dehydrated he’s gotten. Her kindness stings almost as much as his split lip, and her motherly gaze brings him close to tears.

“Thanks,” he pants, suddenly out of breath. “Was nice of you.”

“It’s no bother, really,” she says warmly. “Chief Hopper is going to try contacting Max’s dad. Is there anybody he can call for you, Billy?”

“Ah, no. My mom… She, um…” His voice cracks as his throat tightens, and he blames the pain meds. “She’s not around anymore.”

“Okay, but is there nobody else? Grandparents, an aunt or uncle?”

Billy snorts, which makes his head throb.

“No. I’ve got nobody else. Neil likes it that way. And good luck getting in touch with Sam Mayfield. Guy has let Max down more times than I can count on both hands.”

“Maybe Neil made it that way for her, too,” Joyce says, frowning. “Well, regardless, he’s gonna try.”

“Great, and her Dad’ll take her back to California. I mean, if her mom doesn’t put up a fight.”

“Billy…” She sighs and glances at her son. “I know things are hard right now. What happened to you—it never should’ve happened. Nobody deserves that, especially not a kid. Try to take things one at a time. If we can, we’ll keep you and Max together. You want to stay with your sister, don’t you?”

His eyes burn and his chest feels too tight to get words out, so he grunts out a noncommittal sound.

“How many years have you known each other?” Joyce asks softly.

“Dunno,” he manages, taking a shaky breath. “Four, maybe? I was thirteen and she was only nine. God, it’s a good thing she’s so hard-headed or we wouldn’t have spoken for, like, months. I tried my best to ignore her but she just wasn’t having it. Typical Max.”

“Hm, four years… That’s a long time. Really long when you’re still so young. Max wanted to be here, just so you know. But she really needed some downtime, too. So, we encouraged her to go to Dustin Henderson’s house. She’ll be okay there for tonight, and tomorrow we’ll figure out the best fit.”

“He’ll go after her,” Billy says quietly. “Loves her more than he ever loved me.”

“Max is safe. Steve is staying there too, and Hopper will make sure the school is made aware of what’s been going on.”

“Great—just broadcast our dysfunctional garbage all over town. He’ll love that.”

“Secrets don’t help in cases like these. Trust me. I chose not to…to broadcast about how actually terrible my ex-husband was. Not that anybody would ever believe me. Anyway, some people in Hawkins still think he walks on water. But Lonnie’s all flash and fast talk. Knows what to say to get his way, and turns into somebody else when he doesn’t get it.”

Billy’s cheek stings with the memory of Neil’s fist, and he nods almost imperceptibly.

“Wish my mom was half as strong as you,” he admits, though he’s unsure at first if he’s spoken the words or only thought them. Then she gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

“We all struggle—every day. Some people’s struggles are worse than ours, and some are less. They’re always changing, we just work towards the better and hope the worst fades. And it’s better if you have support. Seems like maybe she—your mom—didn’t exactly have anybody she could trust.”

“I just don’t get it…”

Billy has to pause to stop himself from blubbering like a baby. But the pause grows into a full stop, feeling like if he tries to speak he won’t be able to keep it together.

“I know, honey,” Joyce says, whisper-soft. “I don’t either. We fall for these men who are supposed to love us—protect us—and somehow they turn against us, laying all the blame at our feet. Hurting us, and our kids…”

She carefully folds him into her arms, and Billy lets out a broken, breathy sob. It hurts to move, to be touched, but he doesn’t care; neglect and a deep need for affection keep him clinging to her regardless of any physical pain.

“Don’t know what I did… He hates me…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says firmly. “Nothing—okay? Neil hurts you because he’s a horrible, abusive monster. You’re just a kid. It isn’t your job to make him happy or keep him calm. Nobody can live that way all the time. Walking on eggshells, twenty-four-seven. It’s exhausting and debilitating. I’d never want my own kids to live like that, and I won’t let you and your sister have to, either.”

“You won’t?” he mumbles, sniffling.

“Not if I can help it. And, ah, thanks for being here. For Will. I know it wasn’t your choice, but I heard a little of you two talking just before… I know I pretended I didn’t, and I’m sorry.” She pauses to move back a fraction and smoothe a curl from his eyes. “I didn’t want to embarrass you. But—you were very gentle with him.”

“Kid’s been through a lot, though I’m not exactly clear on what that was. He said some kind of shadow monster came after him. That he was fighting it in his head?”

Joyce offers him a soft smile and leans to grab him some tissues. She dabs at his wet eyes and cheeks, then looks over at her son.

“He’s been through a lot, and Will’s always had… A very strong imagination. So, if he says he was fighting monsters in his mind, then he was. But we never left him. We never let him feel like he was fighting alone.” She turns towards Billy again. “And you should never feel alone, either. Not anymore. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, huffing out a sigh.

Between her tender attention and Will’s unwarranted kindness, Billy feels overwhelmed—and suddenly exhausted.

“I might, um, close my eyes now,” he says quietly.

“You go right ahead, Billy,” she murmurs. “I’ll just make myself comfortable in my chair. Be right here if you need anything, honey.”

He gives her a tired smile, one without his usual veneer, and then he finally lets his eyes fall shut.

 

…

Chapter Text

Steve can’t help but check out the Camaro as he parks his BMW beside it, taking in the long lines and cool blue metal sheen under the midday sun. It has a few dings and scratches, but nothing you’d really notice unless you were really looking. From a distance, it’s pure muscle; threatening yet beautiful; just like its owner.

Steve feels a flush climb his neck, thinking about Billy’s weight in his arms, pressing into his chest, and he has to quickly turn away from the car.

“It’s nice, right?” Jonathan hums in admiration, startling him. “Had to roll up the windows and stuff, though. Hargrove left his leather jacket on the front seat.”

“Actually, that was Max,” Steve tells him, smiling weakly. “Hargrove left it draped on the hood—after our fight. Took it off so he wouldn’t get my blood on it, I guess.”

Jonathan looks visibly stricken.

“Jesus—you serious?”

“Um, yeah. Pretty much what happened. Showed up with his hair curled all perfectly, and stinking of way too much cologne. Looked like a fucking beauty contestant—or a male stripper,” he says, snorting. “Not that I’d know what they look like. I mean, what a stripper would wear, or whatever.”

Steve clears his throat as Jonathan arches an eyebrow.

“But, anyway, like I was saying… Hargrove took his jacket off—and finished his fucking cigarette—before knocking me on my ass and stomping inside. I swear he would’ve dragged Max out by her hair like a goddamn caveman, if given half a chance. He was honestly so riled up that night.”

“Right,” Jonathan muses. “A stripper-coded caveman.”

Steve can feel his face heat up, so he forces out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, something like that. But, um. Maybe we should get to it?”

Jonathan glances towards the house and rubs the back of his neck. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than normal in the sunlight.

“You really don’t have to, Steve. I mean, we’ve got things under control.”

“I don’t mind, honest. Max is squared away at Dustin’s for now, and I’ve got the time.”

They pause at the bottom of the porch steps, and Jonathan faces him, his expression almost pained.

“Are you sure? It’s just that Nancy’s here too; helping.”

“Oh…”

Steve’s heart plummets into his stomach like a stone. Then he looks at the house and swallows hard.

“Yeah, no,” he mumbles, his throat tight and hands on his hips. “It’ll be fine. I mean, eventually I’ll have to be around the two of you at school and stuff. So, it’s fine.”

“You said ‘fine’ twice,” Jonathan points out, wincing. “That isn’t super reassuring.”

“Look, Byers. If I get uncomfortable, I have my car—I can just leave,” he says, gesturing at the BMW. “This is your house, remember? So, don’t even worry about it. But I promise to behave myself, if that helps at all.”

“A little, I guess,” Jonathan says, sighing. “Okay. Well, yeah. Let’s go inside.”

Steve stops in the living room and surveys the area. Most of the crazy maps of tunnels have been pulled off the floor and walls already, with only a few remaining tabs of tape needing to be washed off. He can hear music coming from down the hall, it sounds like something alternative, something of Jonathan’s, probably.

“Nancy’s scrubbing the bathroom,” Jonathan says as a buzzer goes off somewhere past the kitchen. “I told her I’d do it, but… You know Nancy.”

“Yeah, she likes to keep busy,” Steve sighs. “So, um, what can I do?”

“I’m gonna hang Will’s sheets out to dry, but the shed still needs to be, ah, put back in order.”

“Right—the one out behind the house?”

Steve didn’t actually see Will tied up out there, but he can only imagine how fucked up that whole scene must’ve been for everybody involved. He helped set up some of it, but thanked heaven he didn’t have to be there when they started the kid’s so-called exorcism.

“Yeah, it’s mostly to store the extra heaters back in the garage. Hop said he’d come by and get his stuff by the end of the week.”

“Oh, sure…” Steve trails off as he enters the kitchen.

Jonathan is on the small porch leading to the back steps, dragging the heap of damp bedding out of the washing machine, essentially blocking his path. But that’s not why he hesitates.

“Um, where’s your refrigerator, Byers?”

“Huh?” Jonathan peeks his head back into the house. “Oh, that. Yeah, the government guys took it. Said it was contaminated. They said they’d replace it, but I’m not holding my breath. Nance says they have an old fridge in their basement we can have in the meantime. We just haven’t had a chance to move it, yet.”

“Yeah, that might be a better idea,” Steve says, hurrying to help carry the heavy load through the house. “Dude—why’s your washer at the back and your laundry lines out front?”

“We don’t get enough sun in the back,” he replies, snorting. “I know, it’s a pain. But we make do with what we’ve got. And it’s been this way our whole lives.”

“You seriously have a dryer, like, right there. Plus it’s pretty damn cold out. I mean, why not use it?”

Jonathan tosses the small container of pegs for the line on top of the pile of clean sheets in the basket and shrugs.

“It’s fine. If I need to, I’ll run them in the dryer if they don’t dry out completely. We just try not to use it too much. Makes our electric bill shoot through the roof. Winter’s different. We can excuse the heat it puts off ‘cause it warms up the house too.”

Steve throws the other boy a look like he’s grown a second nose.

“I guess I’ve never given it much thought…”

“Big surprise there,” Jonathan mutters, grabbing the door. “Do you even do your own laundry?”

“Ah, yeah,” he scoffs. “I mean… Sometimes. My shirts and underwear don’t even come out pink anymore.”

“That’s good, but I’m guessing you take most of your clothes to the cleaners on Main Street.”

“The nice stuff, sure. You know, cashmere and linen needs to be dry cleaned. Silk can be tricky, too.”

“Oh, yes. I hate when I get my silk shirts dirty,” he drawls, dropping the basket on the front porch. “They stain so easily.”

“Exactly,” Steve says brightly, panting to catch his breath.

Jonathan throws him a sardonic glare.

“Oh, you were being sarcastic.” Steve averts his gaze, squinting against the afternoon sun, mildly ashamed for making such a dumb misstep. “Sorry, man. I don’t mean to come off like some rich asshole. I’m still a work in progress.”

“I know you are,” Jonathan mumbles, his cheeks rosy from the cool air and maybe a touch of embarrassment. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you’re actually a good guy.”

“So are you—a good guy—which I need to keep in mind as well,” he retorts, grinning weakly. “And, hey. Thanks for making sure Nancy got home that night of the party. The one at Tina’s. Not sure I ever said anything. After she unloaded on me… I had to get outta there.”

“I guess she really devastated you, huh?”

“My heart was totally obliterated,” Steve admits, frowning as he lets out a heavy sigh. “Drove home in a daze. Was only when I woke up the next morning that it really sunk in. That we were over. That I wasn’t gonna pick her up for school. Not that morning. Not ever again. Hurt so bad. Especially when she showed up at basketball tryouts and jumped all over me. Treated me like I was insane and she never said anything about us breaking up. But I knew what I heard. The gloves come off, or whatever, when a person is that wasted.”

“Nance hadn’t been happy for a long time, Steve,” Jonathan says quietly, draping a pillowcase over the line. “I don’t think it was entirely your fault. I think… She needed to be honest with herself, and finally do—well. What we did, consequences be damned. You know; for Barb.”

It takes Steve a beat to realize Jonathan isn’t talking about the two of them running off on a road trip without telling anybody—and having sex. But how they exposed the lab and got them shut down, once and for all.

“Yeah, kids are already talking about that cover-up and Barb’s death,” Steve remarks, pushing down his jealousy. “Even that freak, Munson, was up in arms about it. Fucking guy gets so loud sometimes. Parading through the cafeteria with his minions and getting on everybody’s nerves.”

“Sorry I missed that,” he chuckles. “Eddie’s a showman when he chooses. It’s kinda entertaining.”

“Well, some of us aren’t sleeping well and have lingering concussions, and we don’t need his—what do ya call it? Ringmaster platitudes during our lunch hour.”

“Wow…”

Jonathan blinks at him, his jaw slack.

“What? I dated Nancy for a year, buddy,” Steve laughs, dipping to pick up more wet laundry for the line. “It’s only natural that I’d pick up some smart sounding words.”

“Um, yeah…sure,” he mumbles, busying himself with pinning everything in place. “Makes sense. It’s just… Unexpected.”

“I’ll tell you what’s unexpected,” Steve says playfully. “Seeing Billy Hargrove lying in a hospital bed next to your little brother. Your mom insisted he stay in Will’s room, but he looked so… I dunno. Out of place. Like, I thought Hargrove would look big and too grown-up to be there, but he looked… Small…”

“Steve, you stayed in that same bed,” Jonathan points out. “In the children’s ward. And you’re eighteen. What did you expect?”

“No, I mean—yeah. I just… Never mind. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“I think you find the guy large and intimidating, but seeing him in that setting, it shattered any illusion you had. Like, you finally saw him as he really is. A troubled kid.”

“A troubled, abused kid,” Steve remarks grimly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess so. God, Jonathan. You should’ve seen him. All curled up in the corner of his room; so small and so scared.”

“Hate to admit it, but I’ve seen somebody like that before. Got so just the sound of our mom arguing with the bastard on the phone would set Will off. S’why I started getting him into music, you know? I mean, I hoped to. To distract him. Give him something better to listen to.”

“Your dad…hit your brother?”

“Only once or twice, but it was enough,” Jonathan says, his mouth pulling into a tight frown. “But there are more kinds of abuse than just physical abuse, Steve. And Lonnie’s kind of the king of saying shit that most people find harmless, but wounds his target deep enough to scar.” He scoffs and glances at Steve. “Kind of why I went looking at his house when Will went missing. Nobody else would—but I checked every room in that asshole’s place—and the trunk of his car.”

Steve’s eyes widen as the full meaning of his words sink in.

“Oh… Fuck. The most my dad ever did was cut off my allowance and ground me. Well, and call me a useless, irresponsible brat. But, like, I sort of was,” Steve admits with a shrug of one shoulder. “And I bet you never stop taking care of your family, doing all kinds of adult level shit, and probably never get an allowance.”

Jonathan huffs out a laugh.

“No, man. But that’s okay. We come from different worlds.”

“Yeah, I get that. And, um, sorry again for breaking your camera like I did.”

Jonathan pauses and gives him a funny look.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Steve. I know you are. And, hey, I was being a creep. I was supposed to be looking for Will, not snapping pictures of Nancy at your stupid little pool party. Besides, the new one you bought me is great. Really. So, water under the bridge, okay?”

“Me and Nancy got it for you,” he casually corrects.

“Right,” Jonathan chuckles and pats Steve’s arm. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“It’s true! Besides, your creeper photos caught a demogorgon on film. So it wasn’t all bad.”

“Sure,” he says again, picking up the now empty laundry basket. “C’mon, let’s go inside and see how Nancy’s doing. If you think you’re ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve replies, ignoring the way his stomach twists.

 

The vacuum shuts off as they enter through the front door, and a very frazzled looking Nancy lifts her head.

“Oh, hey,” she says, smiling despite needing to catch her breath. “I think I have all the floors done. Do you want help inflating the air mattress, Jonathan?”

“Air mattress?” Steve repeats, quirking an eyebrow and looking around. “For who—and where would you even put it?”

“For the girls,” Jonathan says as he balances the basket in his arms, and leans in to press a chaste kiss to Nancy’s cheek. “Hm, I think you could use a break first, but you know I’d love your help.”

Nancy beams and follows him into the kitchen, stopping to park the vacuum in the hall closet first.

“Do you want anything, Steve?” she asks over her shoulder.

“I’m good,” he calls back. “Just got here and all.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy glances at him, and Steve shakes his head. “Jonathan—bring something for Steve, too. Okay?”

“No really, guys. I’m fine. Thanks, anyway.”

While Jonathan dips out to put away the laundry basket, Nancy washes her hands in the kitchen sink. Steve can’t help but watch her as he sits at the table, thinking how strangely happy she looks after some simple housework. It’s certainly nothing he’d ever ask from her, at least not until they were living together—or married.

Yeah, Steve knows marriage is off the table for them now. So far off, in fact, that the very thought is laughable. But this doesn’t stop the small pang of jealousy he feels all the same.

“I heard about what you did for Billy,” Nancy says as she dries her hands. “That was really bold of you—and incredibly kind, considering how the guy’s been treating you since he started at school. Shows how mature you’ve gotten; how much you’ve grown, you know. That you could put aside your differences and be there for him when he needed somebody. I kind of wish I’d been a little more patient with him.”

Steve sighs and glances at her, his cheeks burning.

“It was really bad, Nance. I’ve seen Tommy get a smack from his dad before, and I’ve even been dressed down by my own father. But… Billy was broken. Just a terrified, beaten kid. I hate it; hate Neil.”

Nancy crosses the kitchen and slips her arms around his neck, drawing him down and giving him a gentle squeeze. It takes a second for Steve to respond, but even in her comfort he can feel the change between them.

This is a hug from a friend, not a girlfriend, but maybe that’s enough.

“Here—”

Jonathan pauses as they move apart, then he hands Nancy a Coke like he didn’t just catch them doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Then he offers Steve a tight smile before passing the other can to him.

“Since we don’t have a fridge we’ve been keeping stuff on the back porch. Keeps things decently cold,” Jonathan says easily.

“Hm, might freeze tonight,” Nancy says after taking a long sip. “Maybe don’t leave anything carbonated out there.”

“Good call,” Jonathan hums, taking a seat beside her and looping an arm around her back.

The two kiss, soft and sweet, and Steve pops the tab on the drink he doesn’t really want, just to have something to distract himself.

“So, um…” Steve coughs when the fizz hits the back of his throat. “You said something about the girls needing an air mattress?”

“Oh, right,” Jonathan chuckles and fidgets with the metal tab on the top of his can. “Max and El—Hopper’s hoping to bring them over as early as tomorrow. Shit—I just remembered. He asked me to go and check on El…”

“I can do it,” Steve offers, shrugging, happy for the excuse to leave soon. “I am the new resident babysitter, after all.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Nancy hedges hopefully. “I mean, we have more to do around here, what with Jonathan giving up his room and all.”

“And why’s that? Or is that where the girls are staying?”

Jonathan chews on his lower lip and sighs, his knee jiggling under the table.

“No, it’s for Billy. I’ll move in with Will—he shouldn’t be alone after what happened, anyway. And, I mean, say what you will about the guy, but Billy deserves some privacy after what he went through. You know, his own space with no lock on the door. Well, the outside of it, anyway.”

“Oh, you heard about that, huh?” Steve shifts his wait and leans back in his chair. “Yeah, it was so fucked up.”

“Makes me think of Carrie,” Nancy mumbles, sipping her Coke.

“Carrie?” Steve asks, squinting. “Carrie who?”

“From the movie, Steve,” Nancy says gently. “You know, the Stephen King story where this girl develops telekinetic powers, but her mom is super religious and locks her in this tiny nook under the stairs as punishment? Remember? I’m pretty sure we watched it together.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry, I only saw that movie that one time, and I was, ah…distracted,” Steve retorts, his cheeks warming at the memory of making out with her; her hair so soft against his cheek, her small breasts so supple under his hands…

Steve clears his throat.

“But, um, I’m pretty sure Hargrove doesn’t have abilities like Carrie, or like El,” he adds hurriedly, his face fully flushing. “But I think I know what you’re getting at, now.”

“Some people should never be parents,” Jonathan mutters, his fingers tightening around his Coke can, leaving the sides indented.

“I know,” Nancy murmurs, giving his arm a squeeze as she leans her forehead on boyfriend’s. “It’s so unfair. My parents are strict, but they’re also super unimaginative when it comes to punishments. We just get grounded and some of our privileges get taken away. Hell, Mike must’ve lost over half of his toys this past year alone.”

“He did?” Jonathan asks, looking stricken. “Why?”

“He was half-assing his classes and not completing all of his assignments,” she explains. “Basically going from an A-student to practically failing. It’s honestly a miracle he passed seventh grade. Our parents are really on him to shape up this year. Well, our mom is. But clearly he was upset, thinking El was dead all this time. Hopefully getting El back, and saving Will for good, will go a long way to lightening his mood.”

“Hopefully,” he murmurs, sighing. “I had no idea, Nance. But I guess we weren’t exactly very close until now.”

“I guess not,” she whispers, reaching to run her hand through Jonathan’s hair.

“Ahhhh, is there anything I can do?” Steve interrupts, his head seconds from exploding with how disgustingly sweet they’re being. “Give you two a moment?”

Jonathan and Nancy turn to look at him in unison, both clearly flustered.

“God, sorry, Steve,” Nancy says, biting her bottom lip. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to get like that in front of you. Sometimes we just, um, forget.”

A likely story, Steve thinks. Then again, he knows all too well how easy it can be to lose himself in her big, beautiful eyes.

“It’s fine—this is your house, or whatever,” Steve manages, gulping the last of his soda.

They get busy, setting the tool shed out back to how it should be, then move furniture around in the house. Some of it goes back into place, and some into new areas.

Steve happens to look into Joyce’s room and notices that it isn’t that much larger than either of her sons’. It seems like she’s made room on one side of the closet, and he wonders if this is leftover space from when her husband left, or if it’s something new, like she’s making room for Hopper.

Grinning to himself, Steve thinks how sweet it is that they’ll all be crammed into this tiny house together soon. Then his expression dims, remembering how his own enormous house is usually so empty. Which also reminds him that his parents are coming in that night and he should leave a message on the answering machine that he’ll be out all night—just in case they care.

Once they get done tidying up, and bring the dry bedding in off the laundry line outside, Jonathan and Nancy start giving each other soft looks while they make the beds.

It’s sweet, but awkward for him, so Steve glances around at other things; an old stuffed tiger, a plastic dinosaur, some toy from that Star Wars movie, and a framed photo of Will and his friends sits in pride of place on his bedside table. It looks like they won a trophy for something, but he’s not sure what.

When Steve turns to ask Jonathan about it, the two lovebirds are kissing. Needing to be anywhere else, he finds a way to excuse himself.

“Hey, where’s your bathroom again?”

“Just down the hall, you can’t miss it,” Jonathan tells him, offering him a weak smile.

“Thanks, man. Then maybe I can pump up that air mattress for you; presuming you have an actual pump and I won’t be blowing it up.”

Jonathan laughs.

“No, no. It’s got a foot pump. I figure, if we take turns, we can inflate it in no time. We’ll bring it out and make room in the living room for it.”

“Cool,” Steve hums, making sure to avoid Nancy’s gaze as he leaves Will’s bedroom and sets out for the bathroom. “Be right back.”

“Do you think he’s upset about us making-out?” he can hear Jonathan ask as he goes.

“I hope he knows we aren’t doing it to hurt his feelings,” Nancy replies quietly. “I really want to stay friends, if we can.”

“Yeah, I want that too. But, hey—maybe you can show me what got Harrington so distracted? You know, when you watched that movie?”

“Jonathan…”

Steve shuts the bathroom door just as Nancy starts to giggle.

He doesn’t even want to know what Jonathan could be doing right now. Gripping the sides of the sink, Steve takes a few steadying breaths to keep his blood from boiling. He knows Byers is a good guy, and his breakup with Nancy was bound to happen eventually if she was as unhappy as he’s now finding out. But that doesn’t mean he has to like how quickly she’s moved on.

He can still see her standing by the bleachers in the gym, right after Billy shoved him over like he was nothing, then sank that trick basket. He felt like he was somehow caught between his past self, a jerk like Hargrove, and his present self with Nancy.

What he didn’t know, at the time, was that his future would be forged without her.

“You still have Henderson,” he mutters to his reflection. “Dee’s kinda cool in his own nerdy way.” He sighs and shakes his head. “But he has his own friends, and is probably getting all cozy with Max now that she’s staying over.”

Steve snorts.

“Great, now I’m jealous of a couple of thirteen year olds.”

“You okay in there, Steve?” Nancy asks, voice muffled by the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there a while.”

“Yeah, Nance…” Steve sighs and splashes his face with some cool water. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“We’re going to go into town to get some food in a minute. Do you wanna join us?”

“What about the mattress?”

“It can wait,” Jonathan says, startling him. “The girls won’t be staying over until tomorrow anyway.”

‘Jesus, are they just standing out there with their faces pressed to the door or what?’ Steve thinks to himself, eyeing the closed door.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” he says out loud. “I told Max I’d take her to see her brother after I was done here. Then I guess I’ll take her to the cabin with me, or whatever.”

“Okay, then,” Jonathan adds, actually sounding disappointed. “We’ll wait for you so we can lock up.”

“Great.”

Steve sighs and fixes his hair, smiling weakly at his reflection.

“Guess I’ll just be everybody’s babysitter now. My glory days of date-nights and a warm body to curl up with are long over…” He glances at the door again. “Fuck my life.”

{~~~~~}

The next time Billy stirs, he can smell sunshine and Harrington’s damn cologne. It’s faint, and comforting for some reason; not that he’d ever admit it. Maybe it’s because that jerk helped Chief Hopper, got him out of his room—his cell, more like. Sure, that’s all it is. A simple case of association with a kindness he’s not sure he deserved.

Then why is it Billy feels so disappointed when his gaze finds only his sister beside his bed, and no sign of Harrington?

“He drive you?”

Max brightens when she realizes he’s awake. Then she snorts and gives his hand a squeeze, the hand he hadn’t noticed she was holding.

“If you’re asking if Steve brought me—the answer is yes. All your shit’s with mine at Dustin’s, in case that’s your next question.”

“Hmph, fine. Thanks, I guess,” he mumbles. “Will sleeping?”

Max glances over her shoulder and smiles weakly.

“No, Will’s walking the halls with his mom. S’good sign, him being out of bed and all. I hope you’ve been nice to your new roommate.”

“Yeah, Max. Kid’s kinda growing on me, actually. And I know I might seem like it, but I’m not a complete assshole.”

Max grins.

“I know you’re not,” she says softly. “I’m actually looking forward to maybe getting my old brother back. You know, the one who took the time to teach me how to take care of my scrapes and banged-up knees after a fall from my skateboard, so our parents wouldn’t find out. The boy who didn’t spend every waking moment finding ways to torment me, and seemed to like having me around sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, we both know I have my reasons,” he grumbles, a pit forming in his stomach.

“I know, I know. I ran off to meet up with my dad,” she drawls, half-rolling her eyes. “I thought we were moving past that now?”

“That’s not the only reason Neil made us move, and you know it,” Billy grumbles, slipping his hand out of hers and tucking it under the covers.

He can feel her staring but refuses to look at her, afraid he might crumble under the hurt in her eyes. But when he forces himself to steal a glimpse, Max only looks confused.

“I… I’m sorry, Billy,” she says quietly, her brows knitting together. “I don’t know what other reason you’re talking about.”

“I know you told your mom—and she told Neil. I mean, you tell her everything. It’s practically pathological.”

“Bullshit,” Max huffs, her cheeks red. “There’s a lot I don’t tell my mom. God—might never tell her anything about me ever again after this. So, what is it? Tell me, Billy. Tell me what horrible thing I did to you, or that I supposedly told my mom.”

“I asked you to cover for me—remember? That was our deal. So, if I didn’t come home, you should say I left early to catch the surf before school? Ring any bells?”

She gives him a blank stare.

“Duh, I’m not a moron. Besides, you always came home in time to drop me at school by the first bell. So, I don’t know which time you’re referring to. I’m no snitch, jerkface.”

Billy narrows his eyes, his chest tight with how easily she could forget something so earth shattering for him.

“Then how come Neil found me? Was about a week before he announced we were moving. Two days before he marched into both of our schools and demanded they transfer our records.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she remarks, crossing her arms and hardening her glare. “Where did Neil find you, Billy?”

“Like you don’t know,” he mutters.

“I don’t!” she cries before suddenly looking around, like she just remembered they’re in a hospital and shouting is probably not a great idea. “Look—I told you. I don’t know what happened. Why won’t you believe me?”

Billy swallows, his mouth dry, nearly choking on the lump in his throat.

“I was… He found me with Alex. Remember him? Alex Anderson? Well, we were… Sleeping. In his beach hut. In bed. The same bed. Without any clothes on.” He pauses, huffing out a breath. “I’m sure you get the picture. Neil certainly did. Pretty sure he thought Alex was short for Alexandra until right that second, too.”

When Max gasps, his heart squeezes so hard he thinks it might kill him—and he’d deserve it. Billy can’t look at her anymore. Not even when the silence between them stretches on, almost painfully. Then he hears her breath come out in shorter, raspy bursts.

Shit, she’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words wobbly. “I… I swear to you that I didn’t know. I liked Alex. He was cool, made you act like a normal person. Like you were happy…”

“That’s ’cause I was happy. I mean, when I wasn’t stressed about getting figured out. Then we were. And—fuck. I thought Neil was gonna kill him. Kill me. Couldn’t breathe without Neil being all over me after that. And Alex? He never talked to me again. Never looked at me. Never said goodbye.”

The last part comes out so quietly he isn’t sure the words are even spoken. Max leans closer, carefully wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly.

“This okay? Doesn’t hurt too much?” she whispers tearfully.

“S’okay,” he manages, lifting one hand to gently pat her back. “S’okay, Max. And—I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I thought it was you. That you told him… I’m sorry.”

“Billy, it’s okay. You didn’t know. And I didn’t understand.”

“Do you hate me?” Billy feels her move back a fraction to look at him, but he cowardly peeks through his wet lashes of her. “‘Cause I’m, you know…?”

“Because Alex wasn’t just your friend?” Max asks, squinting at him, a wry grin slowly tugging at the corners of her mouth. “No, Billy. I don’t hate you for being in love or whatever. Wish I’d known, is all. And that’s super shitty that he refused to see you after that. But maybe he thought it was safer—for both of you—if he didn’t.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

A wave of relief mixes with an overwhelming sense of guilt, and his meds probably don’t help much either. Billy cups her cheek and chokes on a sob, not really knowing if he should be happy or sad.

“Doesn’t matter, though,” Max says firmly, giving one of his curls a tug. “You should be able to be with whoever you want. You don’t deserve to be berated and called awful things for it. And you especially never deserved to be hit for it. Neil’s still a fucking monster.”

“Shoulda tried harder to warn your mom,” he mumbles, fresh tears falling. “About the monster he really is.”

“Like she would’ve listened?” Max snorts. “My mom’s head was being turned any way Neil wanted. Still is—it makes me sick. But, hey. I just learned my wicked step-brother has a real heart. Now that’s something worth protecting.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me now, Shitbird,” he says teasingly. “I might not survive it.”

Max laughs and hugs him again, going easy on him when he winces.

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, squeezing her tighter. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“So, um, does this mean we’re good?”

Billy meets her gaze this time, offering her a tired smile.

“Yeah. I mean. I hope so,” he says, feeling ready to shatter if she rejects him.

“I hope so too,” she says in kind, smiling softly. “Because I can only do this—leave my mom and start fresh—if you’re still around and looking out for me.”

“You mean, driving you places and helping you with your homework?”

“That too,” she retorts, snorting. “But you know what I mean. These people are nice, and I trust my friends with my life, but you’re my family, jerkface.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Just promise you’ll stop dating all those dumb girls, and pretending to be somebody you’re not, okay? ‘Cause I like the real you way more.”

Billy sighs, breathing her scent of sunshine, pretending he doesn’t pick up on the light touches of Steve on her, and hums.

“Promise I’m gonna try to do better; for you.”

“That’s all I ask, big brother,” Max murmurs, nuzzling into his neck. “No more hurting each other.”

“No more hurting each other,” he repeats, and means it.

“And no more hurting Steve.”

He snorts, making his head throb.

“Yeah, Max. Okay. I hear you, loud and clear.”

“Good.” She relaxes and rests her head on his shoulder. “You know, if you think you might wanna kiss Steve instead of punching him, I’d be okay with that too. Just saying—I hear he’s single again.”

“Okay, Max. Don’t push it,” Billy warns, though he’s grinning. “Plus, I don’t think a thought like that would even ever enter the brain of a jock like Harrington. Especially given the fact that he’s lived his whole life in a place like this. So maybe keep that sentiment to yourself?”

“Fine. But he cares about his looks about as much as you do.”

“Max…”

“I’ll stop, but only because I know you’re still recovering,” she muses. “But I also know you don’t snap that hard unless you’re really, really hurting.”

“Later, Max,” he sighs, his eyelids heavy with sleep. “We’ll have time for you to keep teasing me, later.”

“Good,” Max hums. “‘Cause I’m gonna keep getting you to open up to me, one way or another.”

“Babysteps, Shitbird,” he says fondly.

As the pull of sleep tries to drag him under, Billy thinks he hears Steve’s voice. He’s talking to Max, being all quiet and sweet; and suddenly he’s wide awake.

“Oh, hey,” Steve says, looking almost as tired as Billy feels. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. How’re you feeling?”

“You didn’t—aren’t,” Billy says hurriedly, a bit embarrassed by his own lack of cool. “And I guess I feel about as good as expected; which is like literal minced meat. But, uh, you can stay for a minute, if you want. Not sure I ever thanked you for, um, you know, helping me out of my house before. So, thanks, Harrington.”

“I think you did, but honestly. It isn’t necessary.”

Billy finds himself caught up in Steve’s smile, despite the colorful bruising and bandages. His grin is so earnest and unexpectedly bashful, his big brown eyes warm and welcoming, his lips so pink and soft.

“Look, I really owe you one,” Billy insists, voice cracking a little. “Two, probably, after how I attacked you…”

“It’s okay. We’re good. You don’t owe me anything,” Steve says gently, glancing at Max. “Just get better so you and Max can start moving on from this, in whatever way you can. Hell, if the Byers’ little house ever feels too crowded, you can come and crash at my place. We have at least three extra rooms.”

Max gives Steve a funny look before smirking at him.

Billy gives her a silent don’t even look, remembering how she said that thing about him wanting to kiss the idiot. Then he grins weakly up at Steve before he can suspect anything.

“Ah, that’s really nice, although I’m not sure we can be safely alone together yet, Harrington. But that’s very, um, generous of you.”

“Sure,” Steve hums, his smile fading. “Well, we should get going, so…”

“Oh, hey, Max?” Billy calls, lifting his chin. “I forgot to even ask; has your mom been around to try and see you at all?”

“Ah, yeah…” Max averts her gaze and sighs, her shoulders slumping. “She came by Dustin’s after school today, while Steve wasn’t there.”

“She did? Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks carefully.

“Because I didn’t really wanna talk about it,” Max retorts sharply. “It was weird, and awkward. And she acted like everything was Billy’s fault—like even after Hopper talked to her, she still believes he’s the devil and Neil’s a fucking saint for having put up with him all these years. And I just…”

Steve puts a hand on her shoulder, and Billy wishes he could get up and pull his sister into his arms.

“I’m sorry I asked, Max,” Billy says quietly, his cheeks burning with shame. “Did she leave without causing too much of a problem?”

“Yeah, Dustin got his mom to come to the door. Claudia is surprisingly protective,” she says, snorting. “Told my mom that she needs to talk to Chief Hopper or a lawyer before just showing up and trying to take me. I was kind of impressed.”

“Hm, maybe we should look into getting her a new kitten for all her trouble,” Steve says, a grin quirking his lips.

“That’s a really good idea,” Max agrees. “Especially after we both leave—she might feel lonely with only Dustin at home. I mean, he’s so busy with all his clubs and DnD stuff.”

“A kitten? Am I missing something?” Billy muses.

“Ah, yeah,” Steve says, his gaze finding Billy’s. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“One I promise to tell you one day—soon,” Max promises. “But we should go and let you rest. I’ll come back tomorrow, if you want?”

“Yeah, I want you to,” Billy admits, missing her already. “But Chief Hopper said he might spring me by then, let me rest at home. Well—at the Byers’, I guess.”

“Really? That’s great,” she grins. “And maybe—if you’re good—we can get you a kitten, too.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” he chuckles, wincing.

“Well, think about it.”

Max comes back to his side and gives him a quick hug, then she returns to Steve.

“Ready?” Steve hums.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Max gives Billy one last look, then walks out of his room, but Steve lingers for a second or two.

“Something wrong, pretty boy?” Billy asks teasingly.

“I was just thinking about how I prefer you upright and in my face,” he says, grinning shyly. “That’s all.”

“Yeah, me too,” he admits, chuckling softly. “But thanks—again. And thanks for looking out for Max. Just be sure she doesn’t fight any more monsters or anything, okay?”

Steve’s eyes go wide.

“Who… Did somebody say something to you?”

Billy snorts.

“Not exactly, but I've been talking with Will a little. It sounds like things were a bit more complicated that night at his house than anybody let on. Another long story somebody’s gonna need to explain.”

“Yeah, well, things…they were—complicated,” Steve mumbles, glancing away. “But, I will. I’ll keep Max away from monsters; real or otherwise.”

“Thanks, Harrington.”

Steve offers him another pretty smile, then he’s gone.

And Billy secretly wishes he wasn’t.

 

…

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong?”

Steve cuts the engine and gives Max a second to answer. She has her arms crossed, and even though he let her play with the radio on the way over, she’s been more quiet than expected.

“Nothin’,” she mumbles into her chest. “Thanks for taking me to see my brother, by the way.”

He still feels bad about chickening out, and not going into the room with her until Billy was sleeping. Then, when he woke up, he didn’t exactly hang around. Butterflies flutter strangely in his belly as Steve remembers how gentle they were to each other. Did he really invite the guy to stay at his house, or is that something he imagined?

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he says, keeping his gaze steady on her. “But something’s clearly bothering you, and I wish you’d just tell me.”

“It’s dumb. I just… I don’t see why we couldn’t have stayed at Dustin’s. Billy said he might be getting released tomorrow and his house is way closer than Hop’s cabin. And I don’t need a babysitter, by the way.”

Steve snorts and glances at the cabin. He’s still unused to the dirt roads through the woods, and it took them longer than expected to get there. It’s already getting dark and he’d like to be inside, but Max is digging her heels in for some reason.

“Well, Hop’s the one who’s supposed to be your temporary guardian or whatever, not Claudia. And El’s been here all alone—like, a lot. So, here we are. Besides, it’s only temporary. Soon enough they’ll have you back at Will’s place.”

Max huffs out a sigh and doesn’t budge.

“Max…”

“She hates me, okay? El’s decided I’m horrible for some reason. Probably something Mike told her, for all I know.”

“But I thought you and Mike were good now?” Steve snorts. “Oh, okay. Maybe El’s just jealous of you. You know, because you get to hang out with Mike at school and stuff, and she can’t. Plus—you being a girl and all.”

“Gross,” she scoffs, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’ve got no interest in Michael Wheeler. Zero. If she’s gonna be jealous, it should be over Will. He’s the one Mike’s always with. Not that I think he shouldn’t be, or whatever. I’m just saying.”

“Uh, huh…”

Steve stares ahead for a beat, not really sure what to say to that. In truth, he misses having somebody as close to him as Mike and Will seem to be. Dustin might be a good contender, but their age difference—and wildly different interests—might prove a problem.

Not that Steve would ever admit to missing Tommy, but he certainly misses Nancy. Like, a lot.

“Fine—” Max grumbles, throwing off her seatbelt. “Let’s get this over with. But you’ll see. She’ll probably throw furniture at me.”

“Just stand behind me and it’ll be fine,” he says, climbing out of the car. “We’ll talk—explain things, or whatever.”

“After you, then,” she retorts, grabbing her school bag and sliding out.

Steve bites back a laugh as she stomps towards the porch. He goes to the trunk and gets her suitcase, as well as his own overnight bag. She waits, tapping her foot on the old wooden boards, for him to get the door.

“Ah, okay. Hop gave me the, um, secret knock…”

“God—don’t you have a key?”

“Yes, but El might not let me in if I don’t knock first.”

Max throws him a withering look, and he struggles to remember the pattern of knocks. The first time, he gets it wrong.

“El—it’s us. Me and Max. Fuck… It’s Max and Steve,” he rambles. “Okay, I think I’ve got it now.”

Steve knocks the correct cue—and the door creaks open.

“See,” he says smartly, gesturing at the door.

“You want a round of applause?” Max drawls. “Go on, Harrington. You first.”

He holds up the bags, shielding himself, and steps inside.

“Heya, El. How’s it going…?”

Two large eyes watch him warily from a three inch gap in the bedroom door, and his heart breaks for her a little.

“Hey, you’re okay, kid. Hop sent me to hang out with you tonight. And—look. Max is here too!”

The door slams shut.

“I told you she hates me,” Max mutters, brushing past him and dropping onto the couch. “You gonna make us some food or something?”

“Food. Right.” Steve sets the bags down by the wall and walks into the tiny kitchen area. “Hopper said he did a grocery run. He also said something about El loving Eggos. Which, if you ask me, is weird.”

“Billy makes the best waffles from scratch,” Max mumbles, digging around in her bag. “Sometimes he even puts blueberries or chocolate chips in them. He’ll tell me they’re rat poop or something so I won’t eat them—more for him—but I caught on pretty quickly to his big fat lies.”

Steve smiles fondly, wondering if Billy just used the taunt as a cover, not wanting to admit how much he likes making something special for her.

“Well, Billy’s not here—yet. He’s gonna be. I mean, he’ll be fine. Soon. Yep, back to making you waffles and driving you crazy.”

“Driving all of us crazy,” she adds, glancing at him and smirking. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell him about you being here with just us two—young and vulnerable—girls.”

A bark of laughter jumps out of his chest.

“Since when are you vulnerable? You or El,” he muses. “Seriously, how can that jerk date half the girls in school, in less than a week, and still be so damned worried about me being around you kids? Like, isn’t that like calling a kettle a kettle?”

“Um, I think it goes: calling a kettle black, Steve.”

“Are you sure? That sounds kinda racist to me.”

Max laughs.

“God, no wonder my brother went after you. You’re just too easy a target.”

The door to the bedroom opens a few inches again, and El peeks her head out.

“What is funny?” she asks slowly.

“Steve,” Max says, amused, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Steve’s a riot.”

“Okay, now you’re just poking fun at me. Not cool, Max.”

“You make it so easy,” she says, snorting. “S’like a shark catching the scent of fresh blood.”

“Yeah, well…” Steve pauses to touch the bandage under his cheekbone. “He certainly knows how to draw more blood.”

El glances between them, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Did he say sorry?” she asks, moving to lean on the counter with her elbows.

“Hargrove?” Steve snorts. “I mean, maybe. Not entirely sure he meant it, though. He was kind of in a bad way at the time.”

“Why?” El stares at him expectantly.

“He, um… Got caught by a bigger shark,” he says, glancing sheepishly at Max. “He’s been bunking with Will at the hospital.”

“I hate leaving him there. We should’ve stayed longer,” Max complains, scribbling in her notebook. “Are you at least collecting his homework for him? I mean, we started this term late and now he’s missing classes. Billy’s gonna be pissed if he risks being held back a year.”

“It’s fine. Hop talked to the school. And…” He breathes a sigh and grabs some things out of the fridge. “Nancy said she’d get his assignments. She, ah, has a lot of the same classes. Some of those advanced placement ones. Did you know that?”

“That Billy’s too smart for his own good? Duh,” she snorts. “He just isn’t a dork like Dustin and Mike.”

“I see you limited your list there, Max,” he teases. “You know Lucas and Will belong to their group too, right?”

“Sure, but they aren’t dorks.”

“Mike is a dork,” El says, offering Max a crooked grin. “He likes toys. Plastic people and ships. Thinks I should like them.”

“Ugh, don’t get me started on boys and Star Wars,” Max mutters. “It’s practically a pandemic.”

“Star Wars?” Steve asks, raising his brows. “Is that the one with the teddy bears? ‘Cause those are kind of cute.”

Max rolls her eyes, and El looks more confused.

“Sure, Steve. The deadly teddy bears,” Max says dryly.

“Is that not what they are?” He asks, opening a jar and giving it a sniff. “Oh, my G—” he gags, slamming it into the trash can. “That should be condemned.”

“I think Hop got that right after he found me,” El says, making a face.

“I believe it,” Steve remarks, coughing. “Hopefully I can find something more edible.”

“I told you, we should’ve stopped for burgers,” Max tells him. “And, no. They’re called Ewoks, actually. Not that I care.”

“Uh huh,” he grins. “Well, we didn’t stop for burgers because I didn’t know what El likes on hers. But—honestly. This is a travesty. So, I could go now. I mean, if you want. And—if I can trust the two of you to behave for twenty minutes without supervision.”

“Well, under most circumstances I might say no, but I’m hungry enough that I guess I’ll behave long enough for you to get back.”

“Might fall into a coma,” El says, sliding into the big, old recliner. “That is what Hop says when he gets very hungry.”

“See, Steve? We’re good.”

He laughs and jingles his car keys.

“Okay, well, what do you want, El?”

“Food,” she says simply. “Lots of food.”

“Okie dokie. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“Why would we try to do that?” El mutters, squinting at him.

“He said try not to,” Max points out. “Which is pretty easy.”

“Oh, okay.” El shrugs. “Bye, Steve.”

He hesitates, hand on the front door, but leaves after a few seconds. As he slots the car key into the ignition, he swears he hears something crash inside the cabin. Sighing, he decides to go for food anyway.

Because there’s nothing worse than hungry teenagers.

 

When Steve returns, he braces himself. But nothing could possibly prepare him for the murder scene he walks in on.

Clothes are strewn all over the main room, and there’s a box of jewelry and hair clips spilled over the long coffee table. Coke bottles—definitely more than two—are spotted here and there, and Max pauses mid nail-polish stroke to look up at him.

“What?”

“Food!” El squeals, jumping off the couch.

“No—your nails!” Max groans. “Oh, well. We can just start over.”

Steve throws the bag of take-out at her and narrows his eyes on Max.

“What the Hell happened here?”

“Makeovers,” El says simply, already stuffing fries into her mouth.

Max walks casually over to the kitchen counter and takes the burger from El’s outstretched hand.

“Yeah, we got bored,” Max says, taking a bite. “We can do you next,” she adds, mumbling with her mouth full and wagging her eyebrows.

“Ah, no thanks,” Steve says, munching a fry. “But maybe I’ll help you clean up.”

“Noooo,” El whines. “We need to finish.”

“I’m not rushing you—just whenever you’re done.”

“Oh, good,” she hums, grinning as she takes another bite.

“You know, I have some of Billy’s stuff, too,” Max says, tapping her chin with a finger. “You don’t happen to have an ear piercing, do you?”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “No, I don’t. And I wouldn’t wear one of your brother’s earrings anyway. The guy already has enough reasons to wanna break my face again.”

“Oh, yeah—he’s bad about breaking things.”

“Why?” El asks, knitting her brows together. “Why is he so mean?”

“Because his dad is mean,” Max says, gazing at her fries. “I wish he wasn’t. Wish Billy could just try to be nicer, maybe. He says he will… But I dunno.”

“Maybe he will—try,” she says hopefully. “You helped him, so he should see that you are nice.”

“Doesn’t always work like that,” Steve retorts, sighing. “Anyway, I think you went a little heavy with El’s blush, Max.”

“Excuse me? You think you can do better?”

“Um, yeah,” he chuckles. “I watched Nancy do her makeup for close to a year, I think I picked up a few tricks.”

“Sure, you watched,” Max snorts.

“I watched enough not to treat it like finger paint,” he shoots back.

Max flashes him a middle finger, and El giggles.

“Fine. But if you get to touch up El, we get to give you a makeover, too.”

“Okay, fine,” he relents, swallowing a lump of burger.

“Fine,” El repeats, grinning mischievously. “Maybe you will be better at makeup than Mike.”

“I’m sorry; Mike?” Max needles, her jaw dropping. “When did Wheeler do your makeup?”

“Thought I was too pale,” she says easily. “I got to wear Nancy’s old dress and blonde hair from a costume. But Mike said I needed something more—and put color on my cheeks with a soft brush.”

“With Nancy’s blush?” Steve asks, arching an eyebrow. “No, yeah. That sounds like a totally normal thing to do.”

“He was probably right,” Max hums. “Besides, Mike’s great at make-believe. I’m sure he loved having a life-sized doll to dress up.”

“Mike does like dolls,” El mumbles, her brows knitting together.

Steve clears his throat.

“Let’s, uh, not worry about Mike right now,” he says, glancing around. “Just eat so we can get this place looking less like a military zone.”

“You mean after we finish makeovers,” Max reminds him, smirking.

“Right. How could I forget?”

 

“Okay, okay,” Max hums and hahs, roughly brushing his hair sometime later. “You were right. El looks much prettier now. Makeup isn’t really my thing. My mom’s always trying to get me interested in the stuff, but I prefer to only use it for fun.”

Steve winces when the brush snags on a tangle—or maybe it’s a clump of hairspray.

“Then how come you have so much of it?” he asks, gesturing to the mess around them.

“Well, some of it’s mine, but, um…” Max glances away, grabbing a hair clip with bright red cherries on it. “I dunno. I guess I just collected it over the years.”

“And when Hopper took you back to your house to collect your stuff, you just happened to take your caboodle of girlie stuff?”

Max squirms under his curious stare.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Steve snorts and reaches to dig around in the nail polish. That’s when he notices that most of the colors are fairly stark. Black, deep red and a steel blue that reminds him of a certain Camaro.

“Um, these are yours, right?” he asks pointedly, holding up the blue ones and remembering what she said before about having some of Billy’s earrings.

“Yup. I don’t steal, Steve.”

“Oh, no. Shit—that’s not…” He sighs, his cheeks flushing. “That’s not what I meant. Just… Never mind.”

“You know that medallion Billy’s always wearing?”

He hums and nods, a little surprised she’d bring it up.

“I think it was his mom’s; the Saint Christopher pendant. Either that or she gave it to him. He never talks about her—his mom. But I saw a picture of her once, he keeps it tucked in his wallet so his dad won’t find it. She’s really pretty—or was. I don’t know what happened. Like, if she left or died. Maybe she left and then died? Anyway, Billy looks a lot like her.”

“Billy is very pretty,” El murmurs, smiling to herself. “His hair looks very soft.”

“Yeah…” Max gives Steve a look, her eyebrow arching. “What?” he snorts. “I was just agreeing with El.”

“Um, about which part?” she needles. “The soft hair or being pretty?”

“Shut up,” he scoffs, tossing the nail polish back in the bag and ignoring how hot his cheeks feel. “Billy’s all hard edges, like a razor blade. I bet if anybody ever tried to cuddle him they’d get cut up real bad.”

“Uh huh,” Max drawls, narrowing her gaze on him. “So, you’ve thought about it, then? Cuddling my brother?”

“Cuddles are nice,” El hums, clipping a cherry barrette in Steve’s hair. “You should definitely cuddle him. Billy looks like he needs lots of cuddles.”

Steve and Max exchange a skeptical look, then they both burst out laughing.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing, El,” Max laughs, holding her hand. “You’re sweet. And Billy does deserve more hugs than he gets, but it’s gonna be a process. He’s been a jerk and a bully for a long time. He needs time to be… Rehabilitated.”

“Yup, just like a feral cat,” Steve hums.

“Is it true?”

“That Billy’s like a feral cat?” Max teases, snorting. “I mean, sometimes.”

“No,” El retorts flatly. “That you and Billy will be living with Will and Jonathan?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, at least for a little while.”

“It’ll work out,” Steve reassures, checking his lipstick in a hand mirror and pouting his mouth. “Plus it sounds like you and Hop’ll be moving in, too. That’ll be fun. You get to have a real family. Granted you’ll all be crowded into that little house and fighting over one bathroom.”

“It’s gonna be awesome,” Max says dreamily. “Although, Billy isn’t exactly used to sharing his space—or his things. Or, like, anything about himself.”

Steve lowers the mirror after wiping a smudge of liner from under his eye and offers her a soft smile.

“Hey, if El can get used to it, so can he.”

“I will have three brothers and a sister,” El says, her eyes dancing. “That sounds good. As long as…”

Her enthusiasm fades as her gaze falls to the blush brush in her hand.

“As long as what, El?” Max hedges, bumping shoulders.

“I do not want Hop to forget me. I like us being together; just us.”

“He won’t forget to give you extra attention, El,” Steve murmurs. “You mean too much to him. And, hey—now you’ll have a mom, too.”

El’s eyes snap up to his and she brightens, a smile splitting her face.

“I really like Will’s mom,” she whispers.

“She really likes you, too,” Max hums. “And, ah, I’m sorry for whatever it was that made you not like me at first.”

“It is okay,” El says quietly. “I have decided that Mike does not like you more than me. Just… Differently.”

“Good. Because I don’t like Mike more than a friend. Trust me.” Max pauses, her gaze on Steve as he looks in the mirror again. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Steve starts and lowers the mirror.

“I wasn’t staring. I thought I had some mascara in my eye.”

“Dude, relax,” she snickers. “I wanted to ask you about Billy.”

He blinks at her, confused.

“What about him?”

“Do you think it’s gross that he likes to dress up, do his hair—” She dangles a golden earring from her finger. “—wear jewelry? Maybe sometimes put on eyeliner and show off his tits?”

“Tits?”

As El tilts her head, Steve can feel his whole body heat up.

“Yeah, his man-boobs,” Max says, puffing out her own chest.

El giggles, and Max starts laughing, too.

“Oh, my God,” Steve groans. “Max—don’t do that. Please.”

“Then answer the question,” she snorts, tossing the earring back into the small wooden box housing the others.

“I dunno,” he says, huffing out a breath. “It’s not gross—exactly. It’s just not something I’m used to, I guess. There’s a few guys in school… They’re kind of… Metal Heads, I think? They do that kind of thing. Lots of denim, leather, bigger hair, rings, tattoos…”

Max narrows her eyes at him.

“But—it’s like they wear their look like a suit of armour, or something. But Hargrove—Billy—he doesn’t. Not at school. It’s like he just throws on whatever and just exists. Then at parties or whatever, outside of school, he really shows off. It’s… Different. He’s different. And, to be honest, I don’t really know what to make of him most of the time.”

“Yeah, he’ll give a person whip-lash, that’s for sure,” Max snorts. “But I think he does it to cope,” she adds, her voice softer. “Like, sometimes he tunes out and doesn’t care about anything, including how he looks. And other times, it’s like he’s performing—but I’m not sure who for. Then there’s those rare times, like the past few days, when Billy’s himself. It just sucks that he has to get knocked down so hard before his real self finally resurfaces.”

“I think you are wrong, Max.” El says quietly. “I think Billy is being himself now because he feels safe. Yes, he is hurt, and that is bad. But he knows he will not be hurt again; not like he was.”

Steve hums, nodding without realizing.

“Yeah, El might be right. But I do think—” He gestures to the jewelry box and makeup. “I think this is part of who he is, too. That he likes showing off sometimes, even if it’s just for his own benefit. I mean, who doesn’t like looking good once in a while?”

“Then… It doesn’t bother you?” Max asks carefully.

“Not really. But—why do you care so much about what I think?”

“I dunno…” she mumbles, glancing at him sideways. “Because maybe his new stupid buddies at school might start treating him differently now. And maybe he’s gonna need somebody in his corner. I just… I don’t want him to feel alone. That’s all.”

Steve offers her a soft smile and reaches to give her hand a squeeze.

“That’s very sweet of you to care about him, but I’ll only stay close if he wants me there. We all know what happens when he gets stressed and irritated with me.”

Max laughs, her mood brightening.

“He promised me he wouldn’t hit you anymore, so I have to believe him. Besides, I think he likes you—more than he lets on.”

“Maybe he wants Steve to hug him,” El suggests, grinning.

Steve laughs, shaking his head.

“Until I have proof that Billy’s been thoroughly domesticated, there’s no way in Hell I’m trying to hug him.”

“Fine. Now hold still and pucker up,” Max muses. “I wanna see this shade of lipstick on you.”

He rolls his eyes at this new deep shade of red, and obediently pouts his lips.

Yeah, Steve isn’t so sure he’s made the right call after all.

{~~~~~}

“Come on, Joyce.”

Joyce startles, her head jerking up, still cloudy with sleep.

“Wha…?” She squints and rubs her eyes. “Hopper?”

“Yeah, it’s just me,” he says, wincing slightly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But, um, hey. You can’t keep sleeping in this chair. I talked to Jackson. He’ll have a nurse check in every hour or so. Let the boys sleep—you should be in your bed. At least for one night.”

She looks over at Will’s peaceful face, her heart aching, and then at Billy. Although his brow is creased, his pain meds have him knocked out cold.

“Are you sure, Jim? I’d hate to leave and have something happen. Especially when we’re so close to getting Will home.”

He sighs and checks his watch, then shows her the time.

“It’s almost 2am,” he points out. “Go home and sleep for a few hours. You can come back in the morning—at a proper hour—and bring them breakfast. But you stay another night and you’ll need to be admitted too.”

Joyce snorts before wincing as she shifts in her chair and her back and neck complain.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll go home for a little while. I should probably shower and change anyway.”

“Good. Plus I thought we could talk a little. You know, you and me. Away from the kids.”

“Oh?” Joyce arches an eyebrow at him, and purses her lips.

“Nothing terrible, I promise,” he says, chuckling softly. “C’mon, I parked in the ambulance zone and I should move my cruiser before it gets towed.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs her purse, glancing one last time at the two sleeping boys before following him out.

Hopper is quiet in the elevator and in the lobby. He holds her door for her like he did back when they used to cut class and hit the liquor store—not that they ever dated. Jim Hopper wasn’t the type back then.

“Okay, Hop. What is it you wanted to talk about?” she asks as they pull onto the road.

He taps his fingers on the wheel and checks in his mirrors, almost distractedly, and Joyce gets a sinking feeling in her gut.

“Hopper—seriously. I’ve barely slept more than two hours strung together in the last few days. Please just spit it out.”

“Oh, so this is a bad time for a proposal?” He teases. “Relax, Joy—it’s nothing so serious.”

She eyes him sideways, then looks out her window at the passing lamp lights. With each one, she knows she’s moving further and further away from the hospital, and the boys who need her.

“Maybe ask me again after Bob’s funeral,” she mutters, guilty. “I mean, really…”

“Not proposing,” he says, sighing. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

A small smile quirks her mouth and she turns to look at him.

“Thanks,” she says and means it. “Sorry, I know I’ve been…cranky. But I actually caught Will chatting with Billy earlier. It’s so strange to think that this boy he’s never spoken to before might be good for him. It’s only… Well. You know I’d take every kid home that needs me if I could. We just don’t have the room. But I feel for him—and his sister—just not sure my being a single mom is gonna help me get them under my guardianship, or whatever.” She huffs out a breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Go on.”

“That’s okay. And, actually… That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about. Taking the kids home, I mean.”

Joyce arches an eyebrow.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, my place is small—as you know. And, yours is a bit small for four kids, too. Not to mention everything that’s happened there with Will and…” He clears his throat. “But—and just hear me out on this—what if we… Well, what if we got a place together? A place big enough for everybody.”

Joyce wheezes out a tired laugh.

“So this is a proposal,” she teases.

“A mutually beneficial proposal,” he corrects wryly.

“And, what? I’d sell my house and you’d pitch in too? And what about El? Is it safe for her to come live out in the open? And, God. I can hear the gossip now. Bob’s only just died—tragically, I might add—and I go and move my kids in with you.” She shakes her head. “The scandal,” she adds wryly.

“Since when have you cared about scandal?” he asks, snorting.

“Since never,” she retorts, yawning. “And my boys have had to deal with worse. So, sure.” She gestures towards the road ahead of them. “Let’s say we buy this hypothetical house. Where will it be?”

“I was thinking maybe on the lake,” Hopper muses. “Not quite as close to town as your place, but not as deep in the woods as mine.”

“Hm…” Joyce gazes out the window, thinking. “I’m still worried about El, Jim. Max knows about her, but Billy doesn’t. And I know I said he’d most likely keep her a secret if we asked him to. I just… I’ll need to talk to Jonathan, too. I want him to feel like he’s part of this decision.”

“Of course. Though, I don’t think Billy will be much of a problem in regards to El.”

“I hope you’re right. And I hope he can get along with Jonathan. Last thing we need is the two of them throwing punches.”

“I… Think they might have more in common than you think.” He glances at her before staring ahead. “Besides, I think Harrington is the common denominator when it comes to those two snapping and resorting to violence. Just saying.”

She snorts.

“For two entirely different reasons.”

“Were they, though?” He asks, voice pitching. “I mean, Steve basically admitted to saying something pretty awful about Will to Jonathan—or something. Which says to me it was a case of a big brother defending his younger sibling.”

“Jonathan also admitted he did something pretty distasteful to catch Steve’s attention in the first place. But—I was mainly referring to Billy and Steve.”

“I thought Billy was defending Max?” He glances at her again. “Was I misinformed?”

“I think there’s more to it than that. And, from what I’ve heard, they’d butted heads more than once before that.”

“Huh… Steve seems like he’s put that all behind him. Hopefully Billy has, too. But, ah, at least we’re not asking Steve and Billy to live together,” he says chuckling. “Now that could get crazy.”

She laughs.

“Oh, I think you might be surprised, Jim.”

“Nothing really surprises me after that shitshow we just lived through,” he says, frowning. “But back to the house thing. Don’t worry about any of it. I’ll find us some properties to look at, you just have to view ‘em once I’ve picked a few out. Sound good?”

“Sure thing. I’m just along for the ride.” She offers him a grin. “But, um. Just curious. Will you be getting your own room, or are you expecting to share?”

“Are you offering?” he muses, arching an eyebrow.

“Hm, not sure,” she hums, resting her head on the headrest. “Maybe I’ll think about it. I mean, I haven’t had a sleepover with a man in a long time. Even with Bob… He usually went home at night. And, well, we’ve barely shared a cigarette since we were teenagers. So, I’m not really sold on sharing a room, let alone a bed.”

“Oh?” He wags his eyebrows at her. “You telling me that I got further with you at sixteen than Bob did in the past few months?”

“If you call passing out in the back of your truck and waking up with a killer hangover further…” She shrugs one shoulder. “Then, yeah. Okay, Hop. You win.”

He snorts.

“Now, I know you remember more than that, Joy. In fact, I seem to recall that I still have a few scars on my arm from where you dug your nails in so hard that night after prom when I—”

Joyce whacks his arm with her hand.

“—Jim! Jesus,” she hisses, though she’s grinning.

“Hey, now—you started this.”

“You always knew just how to rile me up, Jim Hopper.”

“You always made it worth it,” he hums.

“God…” She shakes her head, biting back a laugh. “What would I ever do without you? Oh, right. I married Lonnie,” she adds, snorting. “What an idiot I was.”

“You know, I do also remember that you always slept so much better after I’d get you riled up,” he says. “Pretty sure that never happened with Lonnie.”

“No, it did not,” she says sharply. “That man had the opposite effect. Got me so wired I’d be up for days. Guess I never sunk my nails into him the same way either; or at least not for the same kinds of reasons.”

“His loss. You were always the most fun.”

Joyce steals a shy glance, her cheeks blushing.

“Hey, um… I don’t think I have the energy, but…” She turns towards him, pressing her cheek into the headrest. “Do you think you could, ah…”

“Hm…?”

“It’s just that Jonathan was going to stay over at Nancy’s, I think. So, the house—it’s going to be empty. And it’s so late… And you’ll be driving back in the morning and all.”

“Is there a question in there, Joy?” he asks, his eyes dancing.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” she grumbles, averting her gaze.

“Well, I don’t want to get our signals crossed, you know.”

“Will you please stay over tonight, Jim?”

“Why, of course, Joy—I’d love to.”

“I mean, if El’s okay on her own…”

“Max is with her—so, she’s not alone.”

“Oh…” Joyce yawns. “Is Max okay without you there?”

“Harrington is not-babysitting, so they’re fine. It’s quite the new leaf Harrington’s turned over.”

“You mean he’s there; or he isn’t there? Sorry—I’m exhausted.”

“He’s there—just making sure they don’t run off or anything. And yes, I could tell. That's why I brought you home.”

“Mm, good,” she mumbles, her eyes falling shut. “That’s good. Steve’s such a good boy, really… Maybe we don’t tell Billy, though.”

“Good idea. But—do I need to carry you, Joy?”

“Mmm?”

“Gonna take that as a yes,” he says, snorting.

He pulls up close to the house and shuts off the engine. Then he carefully slides her purse into his lap and finds her house key before looping the strap over his shoulder.

“Okay, Joy, here we go,” he murmurs, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt and gently lifting her out of her seat. “Hm, feels like you weigh the same as I remember. Always such a little thing.”

She mumbles something he can’t quite interpret and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

“You smell the same,” she adds, pressing even closer.

Hopper manages to unlock the front door and step inside, and when he bounces her, she giggles softly into his ear.

“You’re killing me, Joy. You get that, right?”

“Maybe that was my plan all along…”

He tilts his head to gaze down at her face—and kicks the door closed behind them, dropping her purse on the couch. Her eyes are still closed but he can see a faint grin quirking her lips.

“You’re just diabolical enough that I’d believe that,” he muses, carrying her down the hallway to her room.

“Me…? Never.”

He snorts before dipping to lay her on her bed. But when he tries to stand up, Joyce tugs him down with her.

“Said you’d stay,” she pouts, her fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform shirt. “Aren’t you gonna stay?”

“Easy there, tiger. I was just going to help you with your shoes.”

“Such a gentleman,” she hums, reluctantly releasing her hold and smoothing her palms down his chest.

“Joy, if you need help sleeping, you can just ask,” he says, pulling her shoes off. “I don’t mind.”

She wordlessly nods, scooching over and patting the bed.

He eases himself down beside her, resting a hand on her thigh.

“What do you need from me?”

“Just need you,” she whispers, taking his hand and inching it higher.

“Then you’ve got me,” he murmurs.

 

…

Chapter Text

Taking a slow breath in, and letting it out just as slowly, Billy waits for Doctor Jackson to finish listening to his heart.

“Your back is healing remarkably well,” Jackson says as he stands up and removes his stethoscope. “And your rib has barely a hairline fracture, it’s mostly bruising, so you should be good as new in a few weeks—well, close to it, anyway.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Hopper chuckles. “But don’t make it sound like the kid’s doing too well on your report.”

The middle-aged doctor offers the chief a grin.

“Of course not. And Billy will need to have those stitches out in about a week, and continue reapplying the bandages until the lesions have completely closed. That means only simple exercise and no sudden, jerking movement if you can help it. Okay, Billy?”

“Yeah, okay, Doc. Not sure I can move too fast anyway. Guess I can kiss the basketball team goodbye.”

“I can write you a note,” he offers. “Maybe your coach can simply bench you until you’re up to playing again.”

“I dunno, maybe,” Billy mumbles, unconvinced.

Hopper gives him a gentle pat on the knee.

“Okay, kid. You heard the man. Get your street clothes on and we’ll blow this pop-stand.”

“Oh, ah, really? Already?”

“I see no reason to keep you in hospital any longer,” Jackson replies. “But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call my office. And don’t worry, I’ll share my final medical report with Chief Hopper before I file it, so we can compare notes. Neither of us want that monster to have a leg to stand on when your case goes to court.”

“Right… Yeah…”

Billy feels a little woozy. He’s glad Neil is just some hired security guard and not an actual cop. Although, with the chief on his side, maybe that wouldn’t matter. But the idea of facing him in court, even just for a custody hearing, makes him want to vomit.

“Oh, there’s the matter of Billy’s pain medication. Can I presume you’ll be making sure he takes it as prescribed?”

Hop stares at the pill vial for a few drawn out seconds, then he shakes his head.

“Ah, no. I think we’ll give those to Joyce for safekeeping. She’s, ah, better at remembering that kind of thing.”

“Okay, but you’re okay to take them, aren’t you, Hop?” Jackson hedges, still holding the pills out to him. “I released Will about twenty minutes ago and I don’t think she’s still in the building.”

“Oh, yeah—of course,” Hopper says, chuckling as he snatches the bottle to tuck into his inside coat pocket. “I think I can handle that without misplacing them.”

“Misplacing them?” Billy repeats, his voice cracking slightly.

“Nevermind, kid. It was a joke,” he says, guiding Billy out of the exam area.

 

Getting dressed is a bit of a struggle, but Billy’s pride won’t let him ask for help. After all, he’s going to need to dress himself everyday while he heals.

Once they’re in Chief Hopper’s cruiser, they drive for a while in a silence which is only mildly awkward. As they head off the highway and down an unpaved road, leading deeper and deeper into the woods, Billy starts to get nervous. Really nervous.

“I used to have a problem,” Hop says, seemingly out of the blue and without context, doing nothing to ease Billy’s anxiety.

“With pills,” he adds, gesturing to his pocket. “My little girl died—her name was Sara. Then my marriage fell apart. I hated my job. Even before I injured my back and they stuck me on desk duty. Well, that’s not really an excuse; the injury. But, um, I don’t take them anymore. I’m not an addict, I just decided to numb my pain, and my grief, for a lot longer than was probably necessary.”

Billy stares out the window at the passing trees, listening.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks quietly.

“Because I wanna be honest with you, Billy,” he says, glancing at him. “You’ve taken enough crap from the adults in your life, and I want you to trust me. Okay? So, I wanted to explain why I was acting a little sketchy back there with Jackson.”

“Okay—well. Thanks, I guess?” Hopper gives him another sideways glance. “Sorry, I’m not used to anybody actually caring what I think of them. Just used to being told what to do, whether I wanted to do it or not.”

“Yeah, I feel that. My old man was so bad after my mom was gone that I used to sleep out in my truck sometimes to get some peace. Before I had a truck, or a license, I’d crash with my friends or sneak into places I had no business being. But chancing getting arrested for trespassing was still better than dealing with that monster when he was on a bender. But you’ve got Max, so I guess running off got harder to do once she showed up.”

“You have no idea,” Billy sighs, his gaze falling to his hands in his lap. “I’ve never felt so helpless—every time Neil so much as raised his voice at Max, I was scared he’d hurt her. Me? I can take it. I’m used to it. But Max still has some spark in her that nobody has a right to stomp out.”

Hopper flashes him a grin.

“Sounds like maybe with a little time and care, your own spark might come back too,” he muses.

“Sure, as long as you aren’t driving me deep into the woods to murder me and dump my body in one of the lakes around here.”

“Relax, kid,” Hopper chuckles. “We’re just going to my old hunting cabin to pick up a few things. I think Max is there now, too.”

“Oh…” Billy lets out a strained laugh, causing his ribs to ache. “Oh, okay. You had me kinda worried for a minute, Chief.”

“Yeah, I get it. You’re gonna need an adjustment period. I can’t just assume I have your trust. But I promise this won’t take long—and then we’re going back to the Byers’ house.”

“Great, thanks for explaining that. And, um, that other stuff. Must’ve been awful, losing a kid like that.”

“Yeah, it was. But I carry her memory with me every minute of every day. Because love—real love—doesn't end, or have conditions. It lasts forever.”

Billy can’t help but smile at this, and he thinks that maybe this is what a real father is meant to be like. Unconditional love and understanding, even in death. Kind of embarrassingly human, and not afraid to admit it, or show weakness.

Neil would definitely rather put a gun in his own mouth than be tender and sentimental, that’s for sure.

“Okay, here we are,” Hopper says, cutting the engine. “I’ll go in and help Max with your things. I think Harrington said they’d bring them here—which is kind of funny since Henderson clearly lives closer than the cabin. But, hey, whatever.”

Hopper waits as Billy takes his time getting out of the cruiser and walks carefully up the front steps, holding the railing tightly. Billy vaguely notices Steve’s Beamer parked off to the side, and finds it almost reassuring, knowing that he’s been hanging out with his kid sister.

Now that’s a total one-eighty.

It’s early morning, and they should have school, but Billy’s not even sure Max has been going; and he can’t blame her. The main room is a bit of a mess when they walk in. Hop’s jaw drops, so clearly he wasn’t expecting it to be this much of a disaster.

Something moves under a blanket of knitted granny-squares, and Billy half expects it to be a raccoon, or some other wild animal. Then a familiar head of chestnut hair pops up from under it, messy and slept on, and two bleary Bambi eyes blink at them.

Correction: two heavily eyeshadowed eyes whose mascara and liner has badly smudged. Harrington looks like he’s wearing a deep cherry lipstick, which is also not exactly all on his lips.

“Oh, heya, Chief,” Steve yawns, stretching.

“Is that… Makeup?”

Harrington lifts one hand, his shiny blue manicured nails about as neat as the rest of him, and he lets out a soft squeak.

“Nevermind,” Hop adds, putting a hand up. “I don’t wanna know.”

“I think I was so tired that I just crashed,” Steve says sheepishly. “We, um—the girls—did makeovers.”

“Uh, huh…”

The chief bites back a snicker and moves to the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Hargrove—you’re out of the hospital.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

Billy hopes he isn’t grinning like an idiot, but fears he might be.

That’s when a girl with short, brunette waves comes out of the little room off to the side, and stairs at him. Her head tilts, and Billy stares back.

“Um, hey. I’m Billy. Who’re you?”

“El,” she replies simply.

“Oh, that’s my daughter,” Hopper calls from the kitchen. “Sorry, kid. Did we wake you?”

Billy swivels on his heel, heart in his throat.

“Your daughter?” he squeaks, head spinning, his ghoulish nightmares repeating in his mind. ‘Your dead daughter?”

“You have a dead daughter, Chief?" Steve asks hurriedly, nearly tripping as he tries to disentangle himself from the blanket.

“What—no! And yes.” Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a sigh. “Yeah, Sara passed away from cancer a few years ago. But this is El,” he adds, gesturing to the confused girl. “She’s my, ah, foster daughter.”

Before Billy can fully absorb this new information, a second girl comes careening out of the bedroom.

“Billy—you’re here!” Max says excitedly, practically throwing herself at him.

Billy muffles a groan as she bear-hugs him before remembering she needs to be gentle with him.

“Oops, sorry…”

“S’okay. I missed you too, Max.”

She beams up at him.

“Did you meet El? She was there the night I, uh, tranquilized you.”

“She was?” Billy squints at the girl, trying to remember. “I only remember the boys.”

“Yeah, we came back after the show was over,” Hopper explains.

“I was in the cruiser when you were in the trunk,” El says easily, walking past him to join Hop in the kitchen.

“When I was where?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve snorts.

“Oh, wow. Looking good, Steve,” Max giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Mayfield.”

“He was a real Sleeping Beauty,” Billy teases.

Steve glares at him and makes a b-line for the bathroom.

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Hop muses.

“What the fuck!” Steve cries, followed by, “No, no, no!”

“I think he’s having some regrets about sleeping with his party face on,” Max remarks, taking a seat on the couch and tidying some of the makeup and other things back into the caboodle. “I wish we’d had a camera. He looked so pretty, I swear.”

“Like a princess,” El hums.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Billy snorts. “I see you had burgers,” he adds, picking up a wrapper.

Hopper narrows his eyes and sniffs the air, gagging. “God—what’s that smell, though?”

“It is the mystery jar, Hop,” El replies, snorting. “The one you said you would throw away, but did not.”

“Yeah, Steve even took the bag out to the bin and sprayed down the garbage can. It was nasty.”

“And you’ve been fostering for how long?” Billy hedges, squinting at him.

“Okay, but it was ‘preserves’. They shouldn’t have gone apocalyptic like that, okay? Honest mistake.”

“Since there was snow,” El replies, ignoring Hopper.

“And do you… Are you in Max’s class?”

When Billy glances between the two girls, Max flushes and El shakes her head.

“I do not go to school.”

“—Yet,” Hopper says hurriedly. “But, ah, soon. Maybe. El has a few… Holes in her education. She just needs some more time before taking those placement tests. We don’t want her to feel too overwhelmed.”

“Geez, was she kept caged up in somebody’s basement?”

“Yes,” El says—and Hopper immediately shouts, “No!”

He groans and quickly adds, “Kid, what’ve I told you about keeping some things about your past a secret?”

“But this is Max’s big brother. If Jonathan and Nancy know, why can we not tell Billy?”

“I think I need to sit down,” Billy mumbles, dropping carefully beside Max on the couch.

“This town isn’t exactly as wholesome and generic as our parents had hoped,” Max says, gently patting Billy’s hand. “But it’s gonna be okay because we’re now with the best possible people. I promise. They know what’s really going on—and they’re not putting up with any of it.”

“God, I miss California,” he groans, letting his head rest on the back of the couch, his back stinging a little where his stitches pull.

“Okay—here’s the deal,” Hopper says, letting the fridge door slam shut. “We get all your stuff together and head back to Joyce’s house. I can make everybody a big breakfast there.”

“Just one problem, Chief,” Steve says, coming out of the bathroom, patting dry his freshly washed face. “They don’t have a fridge and are kind of limited on food.”

“Okay, plan B,” he says, sighing. “We still go to Joyce’s house, but then I make a run for some actually edible food.”

“Maybe Billy should make you a list,” Max says, glancing at her brother. “I saw what you considered food and I think El deserves something better than frozen waffles and TV dinners.”

Hopper raises his eyebrows.

“Max says you make yummy food,” El says brightly.

“Um, okay,” Billy mumbles. “Ah, thanks?”

“Just wish we had a way of getting the Wheeler’s fridge over to their house,” Steve says, laying the towel onto his shoulder. “You know anybody with a pickup truck, Chief?”

“Yeah, I think Powell’s brother-in-law has one we can borrow,” he says after a moment. “I’ll give him a call while you help round up…everything.”

Steve looks around the room at the debris field.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

“Hey, Max?” Billy asks quietly as she scoops some clothes back into her suitcase. “Where did you get so much makeup?”

“I dunno…” she mutters, her cheeks going pink.

“Have you been shoplifting?” Billy pauses and picks up a jet black eyeliner. “Or maybe you took some of this stuff from somebody else?”

“I don’t shoplift. God, why does everybody think that?” Max huffs. “Okay, maybe I did, sort of… Find it… I just assumed it was my mom’s.”

“Found it, where?” he asks pointedly, holding the cherry lipstick Steve must have put on. It’s a very familiar shade, but not one Susan would ever be caught dead in.

“In the, um, trash. The other day. You know, after you broke my skateboard and dumped it in the big trash can? Well, I went to get it out and I found this plastic bag full of stuff. Makeup, a couple of leather wristbands, and maybe a couple of dirty magazines.”

“Fuck—I’ll buy you a new one,” he hisses, another wave of guilt rolling over him. “I’m really sorry. I freaked out, okay? Needed to keep you away from Sinclair. Not that it worked since your stalker rolled up on his bike, or whatever. But you get it now, right? How Neil would’ve lost his mind if he saw that kid anywhere near you.”

“Yeah, I get it…” Max glances away before meeting his gaze again. “Hey, um, I kept the leather bracelets—if you want them back. But, ah, not the pornos.”

“Jesus, Max!” he half hisses-half laughs, his eyes darting to the others in the kitchen. “Thanks for that, but don’t say that word again. Somebody might hear you. Besides, they’re just gym equipment and work-out magazines.”

“Okay, okay,” she snorts. “Look, it was an honest mistake, thinking that stuff was my mom’s. Especially ‘cause of the hot, mostly naked men—”

“Max!”

“Everything okay over there?” Hopper asks, his head snapping in their direction.

“Yeah, Hop. I’m just messing with Billy,” she snickers. “I think he’s a bit cranky after so many days eating hospital food.”

“Yeah, it did not look great,” Hopper agrees.

“I guess you don’t mind us playing hooky, huh?” Steve says teasingly, beaming.

“It’s fine. You can go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s one of those professional development deals,” he adds, snorting. “I guess the teachers have to be there, but we don’t. Love a Friday off.”

“Uh, isn’t it only Wednesday, Harrington?” Billy says, quirking an eyebrow.

“No, it’s Thursday, Hargrove.”

Billy squints at him, then Max nods.

“Yeah, you kind of lost a couple days, Billy.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry, Nancy’s collecting homework,” Steve offers before adding, “Although, maybe that’s not really something you care about right now.”

“No, it is,” he replies, running his teeth over his lower lip. “It’s pretty unexpected, that’s all.”

“Well, she’s been collecting stuff for Jonathan, too, I guess. I think, now that this thing with Barb is finally over, she doesn’t know what to do with all her extra time and energy.”

Billy knits his brows together, looking at Hopper and then back at Steve.

“Barb was her friend,” Hop supplies. “She went missing around the same time as Will—only Barb never made it home.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. I heard about that… I just…”

“It’s okay, you’ve had a lot of new information thrown at you over the last few days,” he says gently. “And you’ve been going through a lot. So, try not to worry about it.”

“Sure, just losing days and forgetting shit,” Billy mumbles under his breath. “No big deal.”

“It’s not, okay?” Max hedges, the only one within earshot. “And I get it. This is the first time in a long time you’ve needed to keep track of so many people, and actually care if you get some little detail wrong. But nobody’s gonna be mad. I promise.”

“Thanks, Max. It’s gonna take time, I think. To not feel like I’m walking on eggshells, and trust that nobody wants anything from me.”

“We just want you to feel safe and to get your diploma,” Hopper reassures him, grabbing an old duffel bag out of a closet. “Here, El. I’ll help ya pack up, kid.”

El rolls her eyes.

“Max’s clothes are nicer.”

“Hey, maybe Nancy can bring you some of her old clothes,” Steve says brightly. “You know, since she’s so gung-ho on doing things for others these days.”

“Not sure you can volunteer her when she’s not your girlfriend anymore, Harrington,” Billy mumbles.

“I like Nancy’s clothes,” El says, pausing in the bedroom door. “Can you ask her—please?”

“Sure thing. I mean you did so much for us, I can’t imagine her saying no.”

Billy narrows his eyes.

“I’ll explain that later too,” Max murmurs, biting her bottom lip.

“I think I should start keeping a list,” he quips. “I’d hate to lose track.”

 

Back at the Byers, Joyce meets them at the door. She looks even more exhausted than Billy remembers, but somehow so much happier.

“Come on in,” she says, grinning. “Mind the air mattress—don’t trip. Are you tired, Billy? Do you want to lie down while we get things organized?”

“And Hop gets food,” El tags on, snorting as she steps over the corner of the mattress.

“Yeah, we’re starving,” Max groans.

“I have some cereal and milk. We brought it in from the mud room, so it shouldn’t be frozen. Oh, and I picked up some muffins and donuts on the way home from the hospital. Will had a craving for a chocolate one.”

“He did?” Hopper grins. “That’s great, Joyce. How’s he doing since coming home?”

“He’s in his room with Jonathan. They’re watching a movie. I suspect he’ll probably doze off soon, though.”

“Well, we’ll get that spare fridge from Karen a little later,” Hop adds, throwing an arm across her shoulders. “And we’ll try not to make too much noise.”

“Oh, really? That’s great,” she says, relieved. “Thanks, Jim.”

Billy looks around the place while the grownups chat. In the daylight, without the crazy drawings everywhere, the house looks cozy; lived in yet welcoming. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t realize at first when someone tugs on his gym bag.

“Watch it,” he snaps, hugging his bag to his chest.

“Whoa, sorry,” Steve says, slowly putting his hands up, his voice oh-so-soft. “I just didn’t think you should be carrying anything. I wasn’t trying to steal from you, Hargrove. I swear.”

“Oh… No. I mean, of course you weren’t,” he says, frowning.

“So, can I carry your bag for you?”

Billy sighs, feeling like an asshole, and holds the bag out to him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbles, his face hot.

“Cool,” Steve hums, taking it. “I’ll put it in your room.”

“Did you just say you’d put it in my room?”

Steve doesn’t answer, or maybe he didn’t hear him. The girls chatter away while Joyce and Hopper continue catching up, so Billy ducks his head and follows Steve down the hall.

To his right, he can see Jonathan curled up on a mattress on the floor beside Will’s bed. The brothers appear to be sleeping despite the sun bleeding around the thin curtains, and all the noise in the house. Music plays quietly in the room, but Billy can’t quite make out the lyrics or melody. It’s somewhat familiar, though.

Then he notices Steve has gone into the bedroom across the hall. From the posters on the walls and the photos of Nancy still taped above the dresser, Billy knows this is Jonathan’s room.

“I guess he forgot those,” Steve says sheepishly, clearing his throat as he snatches the pictures. “I’ll, um, give them to Jonathan. Can’t imagine you want to look at Nance while you’re trying to take a nap.”

Billy offers him a weak smile. He definitely doesn’t, but now thinks a photo of Saint Harrington might be nice.

“It figures,” he mumbles, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. “That Hagan was dead set on bad mouthing you after you started being all considerate and shit. I guess his plan failed, huh? King Steve is well and truly dead. All that remains is this sweet guy who carries bags and protects kids from monsters.”

“I’m still the same guy,” Steve says quietly, sitting beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I guess maybe Tommy didn’t really like the real me. Preferred the act—the puppet. But, honestly? I never wanted to be a bully. But somewhere along the way I crossed a line. My privilege and status became enough reason to push other people around. Step on them. But it’s stupid, and I’m sick of it. Maybe my relationship with Nancy didn't last—couldn’t—but I’m not ready to give up on how she changed me.”

Billy nods, even if he doesn’t fully agree.

“She seemed to imply she made you into somebody you’re not.”

Steve snorts and meets his gaze.

“Then maybe she fell for my charisma and charm after all,” he says sadly. “But I really did try to make her happy; thought we were…”

Billy glances away, finding the moment too intimate, feeling like he hasn’t earned it yet. As he looks back at Steve again, the guy’s still there, waiting, gazing into his eyes…

Before he can catch himself, Billy leans closer, his head tilting as his lashes flutter shut. Suddenly a pair of strong hands holds him firmly at the shoulders, jerking him back to reality—like he wasn’t about to kiss the sweet, vulnerable boy beside him.

“Dude, careful,” Steve chuckles lightheartedly. “You should really lie down. I swear we almost cracked our heads together.”

“What?” Billy blinks at him, a new heat blooming low in his gut.

“You nearly passed out,” he adds, still grinning. “Got this glassy look and then just fell into me. I mean, it was slow, so I caught you. No harm done. But, seriously, though? You should put your head down before you pass-out again.”

Billy lets out a wheezy laugh. Then he crawls up the bed and lies down, facing the window so he won’t have to look at Steve and his pretty face anymore. A sickening knot replaces the heat in his belly as Billy considers what almost just happened.

It’s a good thing the guy is so clueless, or things could have gone so, so much worse. Besides, nothing about Steve Harrington would ever suggest he wants to—or could deal with—kissing boys.

“Just gonna take your shoes off,” Steve says, whispering. “Guess you’re so tired you forgot.”

Billy can’t argue. He absolutely forgot he was still wearing his sneakers. But more so because he was given his own room, and treated so gently by a boy he almost kissed. Even now, feeling his careful touch as he tugs off his shoes, it’s almost too much.

‘Pervert. Fagot!’ rings in his head. ‘First that boy on the beach, and now your lust hungers for more—disgusting!’

Something warm and heavy suddenly drapes over his body, snapping him back to reality, and Billy can smell Steve’s heady scent close to him again.

“I swear I’m going now. But you were shivering and I thought you could use a blanket.”

Billy turns his head, expecting him to be close, only Steve is already backing away and moving towards the door.

“Thanks,” he mumbles sheepishly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but…” Steve brushes the hair from his eyes and shrugs. “I wanted to. Turns out I kind of like taking care of people. Maybe that’s weird, for a guy?”

“It’s kinda rare, yeah,” Billy replies softly. “But it’s not a bad thing. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. Okay?”

A dopey grin quirks Steve’s lips. “Thanks—I won’t,” he murmurs.

“And, um, in case you haven't noticed, I’m not exactly used to people taking care of me,” Billy admits, whispering. “It’s, ah, kind of nice.”

Steve grins wider, and it’s the best thing he’s seen all day. Well, that makeup disaster was pretty close, though.

“Door open or closed?”

Billy’s face feels warm and he glances away, realizing Steve is leaving him.

“Oh, um. Maybe open, just a little?”

Then his eyes snap up to the top of the doorframe, maybe out of habit, or fear; like he might find a hidden bolt there to lock him in.

Steve glances up too, and frowns.

“Sure thing. Open, it is,” he says, leaving a gap as he walks out. “Have a good nap.”

It takes everything left in him, exhausted as Billy is, not to beg him to stay.

{~~~~~}

Steve stands with his back pressing to Billy’s bedroom door. His heart is beating so fast and he isn’t sure why. Maybe it was their near-collision, or maybe it’s because for one fleeting second he actually believed Billy fucking Hargrove was trying to kiss him.

A funny little laugh squeezes out of his chest, and Steve slaps a hand over his mouth, afraid he might wake someone.

Even after he tries to shake off the feeling, he still feels all warm and tingly all over; and he has to admit that being around this more docile Billy is kind of nice.

“Maybe it won’t be so hard domesticating you after all,” he murmurs to himself.

Steve grins and returns to the kitchen before he’s tempted to check on Billy and risk ruining the soft moment they just shared. He snags a blueberry muffin, and notices the way El and Max are peeking through the pass-through.

“Ah, whatcha doing?” he asks after swallowing.

“Spying,” El whispers.

Max turns her head, giving the other girl a withering look.

“No—El. Spying is a secret thing. You shouldn’t tell people you’re doing it. You should deny everything.”

El knits her eyebrows together and slowly nods.

“We were not spying,” she amends.

“Uh, okay,” Steve mumbles. “And what’re the chief and Ms. Byers doing that’s so interesting? Or—excuse me—not doing? Because you wouldn’t know.”

“They’re touching a lot and whispering—and giggling. Watching Chief Hopper giggle is weird.”

Steve dips lower and squints to see for himself.

“Yeah, he’s a goner,” he snorts. “Wonder if Hop’s been holding a torch all this time but had to…”

“To watch while she was with Bob instead of him?” Max finishes for him, when he trails off.

“Yeah—that,” he mutters, glancing towards the hallway. “I guess they’re being quiet because the guy died, and everything.”

“Hey, Steve?”

He sighs and looks at Max’s face. She looks so innocent it almost hurts.

“Yeah, Max?”

“I’m glad you’re not dead. Especially after you basically taunted those demodogs like you were their last meal.”

“You did that?” El asks, her jaw dropping. “That was very dangerous.”

“I know…”

“But it was awesome,” Max admits, grinning. “Steve’s turning out to be a pretty good bodyguard.”

“As long as I have a bat in my hands, sure,” he says, shrugging and stuffing the rest of his muffin into his mouth.

“So, did you kiss Billy goodnight when you tucked him in just now, or what?”

Steve has a flash of Billy leaning in, so close, lips looking so soft, so kissable; and suddenly he’s choking on muffin crumbs sticking in his throat. Coughing and sputtering, Steve’s face goes red as he pounds on his chest with a fist.

“Oh, shit—I was only teasing,” Max gasps, hurrying to get him some water. “Here, drink this.”

Steve takes several gulps, clearing his throat, and his eyes water.

“Are you okay?” El asks, watching him curiously.

“Yeah,” Steve manages after downing half the glass. “Thanks—” He coughs again, but it’s less tight and easier to breathe.

“If I’d known the idea of kissing my brother was gonna freak you out so badly I wouldn’t have bothered. S’no fun if you die, Steve.”

“It wasn’t…” Steve shakes his head and wipes the tears from his eyes, in full denial of any stray, lustful thoughts he might’ve had. “I wasn’t freaking out. I seriously choked; it was a coincidence.”

“Uh huh,” Max mumbles, eyeing him. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes,” he croaks. “God, look. You want me and Billy to be friends? Fine. I’ll do my best. I mean, I could use a good friend my own age. But please stop making it weird. I’m begging you.”

“Okay, okay,” Max sighs, patting his back. “I get it. You need time after Nancy stomped all over you. Tommy, too—as your best guy friend. I guess I need to work on not teasing as much. It’s just what I do.”

“Good,” Steve hums, smiling weakly. “Because, teasing aside, even if that was a thing that could happen, which it isn’t, neither of us is in a good place right now.”

“I do not understand,” El says, taking a seat at the table. “When I was at Mike’s school, there were boys who were very mean. They called Will names and wanted him to be dead for liking other boys. But Max… You think it is okay?”

“What?” Max drops into the chair beside her, leaning in. “What do you mean? Are you talking about Troy and James?”

El nods. “They are bad.”

“Hm, Lucas told me you squeezed Troy Walsh’s bladder hard enough to make him pee himself for what he said about Will; and to keep him from hitting Mike. Sounds pretty badass.”

“Everyone laughed at him,” El says proudly. “Wanted him to feel bad for saying bad things about Will.”

“I think breaking his arm was the better punishment,” Steve remarks, sipping more water. “Dustin told me that it snapped like a twig. Sounded like it, too.”

Max grits her teeth and winces.

“Okay, that’s definitely badass.”

El beams, then frowns.

“But you say it is okay, Max?” El asks, tilting her head. “For boys to like other boys, and want to kiss them?”

“Let’s just say that most people think it’s wrong; evil. And it should never be allowed. But I’ve been around enough hate and lies that I believe people should be able to love who they want to love, regardless of what’s under their clothes. Because forcing yourself to be with somebody you don’t love, just because society says you should be, is even worse.”

El smiles softly, and Steve feels his stomach twist.

“Do you…really believe that?” he asks quietly.

Max’s easy smile fades as she meets his gaze.

“Yeah, but. I know a lot of people don’t. And, I get why they don’t. But not everybody is like that. Not everyone who likes the same gender as them is a pervert or a weirdo. Some of them can’t help how they feel, because it’s as natural as how you feel—felt—about Nancy. Or how Hopper clearly feels about Joyce.”

“Wait… Do you..?” Steve looks at El and then back at Max. “Are you saying that you sometimes have those feelings?”

“What?” Max giggles nervously and glances at El, her face flushing. “No, Steve—I like Lucas, remember? Which, again, makes a lot of people very angry. Not that I don’t think El’s pretty, or whatever. But I don’t want to date her.”

El gives them each a funny look.

“I’m confused. What is the difference again? Between friends and boyfriends; or girlfriends?”

“Friends hang out and have fun,” Max says, grinning. “But when you date someone, it’s like that—but you also wanna kiss and do other…more intimate things.”

“What are intimate things?” El asks, turning to peek at Joyce and Hopper again, like they might give her an idea.

“Well, there’s kissing,” Steve offers, counting on his fingers. “Like Max said. And there’s touching. Like you always wanna have your hands on the other person. Even if it’s only holding hands, ya know? And sharing personal space; that kind of goes with that.”

“Right, but you shouldn’t let yourself become one person entirely,” Max adds sagely. “You still be who you are, just… Ah…”

“Compliment each other,” Steve continues, grinning. “Have things in common, but also differences—strengths and weaknesses—that work with your partner’s. Share interests. But also have your own. Make each other better—not worse.”

“As in, if Mike’s need to collect things drives you nuts, then maybe he isn’t the best boyfriend for you.”

“Exactly.”

El sighs and hugs herself.

“But I told Mike I would go to the Snow Ball with him. And I want to go. I want to try dating things with him.”

“Then you should,” Max says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “But when did Mike ask you to go? The posters aren’t even up around the school yet.”

“Last year. Before Will was rescued, but after we found him.”

“Oh…”

Max meets Steve’s eye and he can tell she’s thinking the same thing he is—that Mike’s probably forgotten all about asking her by now.

“Then, you should go with him,” Steve says, smiling softly. “And maybe we can get Will to go, too. It’ll be good for him to do normal things.”

“I think so,” El hums. “Will you go with Lucas?”

“If the guy asks me to, maybe,” Max muses. “But, yeah. I wanna go. Plus… I don’t think Dustin will have a date, so we should also hang out as a group.”

“Yes—we should,” El hums, giving Max a hug.

Steve smiles like a proud parent, then he twists to grab a paper towel off the counter to wipe the blueberry off his fingers.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Max?”

“Do you think you can get Billy to go out and do normal things?”

Steve blinks at her.

“What do you mean? The Snow Ball is a middle school thing and, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly middle-schoolers.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I know, dweeb. I’m talking about getting Billy to chaperone, or go to the movies, or something else relatively normal.”

“Give him time, Max,” he says softly. “I’m sure he will—”

“No, I don’t think so. You don’t know him,” she interrupts, lowering her voice. “If he feels like everybody’s gossiping at school about what happened, or if his grades suffer, he’ll just fold in on himself and shut down. And… I don’t want Billy to do that again.”

“Again?” Steve knits his eyebrows together and swallows. “Yeah, okay, Max. I’ll try my best. But we also don’t want him thinking you’ve hired me to babysit him, either.”

“Of course not,” she says, picking up a donut. “That’s why you’ll be his friend and not his sitter.”

Steve rolls his eyes, wondering what he’s gotten himself into now.

“Deal,” he retorts, meeting her eye. “But this means no more jokes about us smooching or trying to make us, like a couple of Ken dolls. Not even in private. Got it?”

Max smirks.

“Got it.”

{~~~~~}

It’s dark—and someone is screaming.

Billy’s heart jumps into his throat and he bolts upright in bed. At first he thinks it’s Max he hears, that Neil’s found them and is hurting her. But, as his head clears from sleep, he knows in his gut it isn’t her.

“Will,” he gasps.

As Billy tries to get to his feet, something shoves him down, leaving an icy handprint imprinted on his chest. His skin prickles and his lungs burn, like the whole room just dropped below freezing.

“They don’t need you,” a low, raspy voice murmurs, the words rumbling in his ears and mixing with his drumming heartbeat. “You don’t belong here. Nobody wants your help. Nobody wants you.”

Billy squints and finds a dark figure standing by the door.

He thinks it’s Chief Hopper—sounds like him, maybe. But it doesn’t make sense that the chief would be so forceful after everything he’s done for him.

Will shrieks out Mike’s name, over and over, and Billy stands up—only to be knocked back down again.

“Fuck off!” he spits. “We need to see if Will’s okay. Where’s his mom; or Jonathan? Just let me go!”

“It won’t be long now…” Is that a clock ticking, and where’s it coming from? “You think you’ve won, but the war has only just begun.”

 

“Billy!”

He gasps, like resurfacing in the ocean, after a wave knocks him off his board. He’s shivering, every muscle trembling, cold. But he also feels hot—and damp.

“Billy, holy shit,” Max whimpers, gripping his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He’s trying to listen to her, but Will’s still crying out from across the hall. Whatever else that was just now, that part was real.

“Miiiike!”

“I’m fine, Max,” Billy huffs out, still trying to catch his breath, still shaking. “We need to get to Will.”

“Billy, you’re drenched in sweat. His mom’ll get to him…”

Ignoring her pleas, and how his legs almost give out from under him, Billy hurries into Will’s room with Max chasing after him. El kneels beside him, trying to shake him awake. She looks up at Billy, her eyes wide and sad.

“He will not stop,” she warbles.

“It’s okay, El,” he soothes. “Let me try.”

Billy sits on the edge of the bed and reaches to cup Will’s jaw while his other hand grips his shoulder.

“C’mon, Will,” he murmurs, dipping so his lips brush against the younger boy’s ear. “Wake up, Will. It’s not real. You’re home—we’ve got you.”

“Billy…” Max whines, helpless.

“We’ve got you, Will,” he says again, pulling Will into his chest and holding him tightly. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you. Not the monsters in your head. Not anybody.”

The bulb in the bedside lamp flickers, and Will’s eyes open and he gasps—much like Billy did—before he falls into a fit of coughing.

“Hey, hey,” Billy murmurs. “There you are. Got you, Will.”

“Did you see him?” Will sobs shakily. “Did you see the monster, Billy?”

Billy’s speechless as Will clings to him, tears streaking his cheeks. He knows Will’s talking about the shadowy figure, and maybe he did, but he honestly doesn’t know what to say. Then Joyce rushes into the room and presses in beside him.

“What happened?”

“Night terror,” Billy says quietly, cradling Will close as his fit subsides. “Where is everybody?”

“Josh brought the fridge and Hop’s outside thanking him—we were both outside. God, Will…” Joyce presses in beside El and clasps one of her son’s hands to her heart. “Baby, it’s okay.”

Hopper’s heavy boots announce his arrival and he glances at Max, throwing a protective arm around the shaken girl, before addressing anyone.

“What’s going on?” he asks evenly. “You okay, kid? You look like shit.”

It takes Billy a second to realize Hopper is talking to him. That’s when he notices how his shirt has become like a second skin and his curls are sticking to his neck and forehead.

“I’ll live, I think,” he mumbles into Will’s shoulder.

“I can take over,” Joyce says, gently coaxing Will away from Billy. “I’ve got you, baby.”

“Mom…” Will blinks blearily at her. “Mom, it was so awful. I thought… I was so scared.”

He collapses into her arms, and Billy staggers backwards. Hopper must’ve let go of his sister, because he catches him before he can topple to the floor.

“Let’s get you sitting down and rehydrated,” Hop says softly. “Thanks—for being here for Will. We were only gone for a couple of minutes.”

Billy tries to smile weakly, but isn’t sure if he is; he feels so numb.

“Where’s Jonathan?” Max asks.

“He went to see Nancy,” El supplies. “He will be sad when he finds out Will had such a bad dream.”

“It isn’t Jonathan’s fault,” Joyce whispers, gently rocking her son. “Will was doing so much better. Maybe it’s this house.”

“I’ll start my search first thing tomorrow,” Hop remarks, guiding Billy into the hall. “C’mon. You can hang out with the girls and drink some water while I see about getting you fresh sheets.”

“Yeah, thanks…”

After the chief eases him down onto the air mattress, he stands there, unfocused and staring, for a beat.

“Did you have a nightmare too?” he asks, at last.

“Me?” Billy asks, voice pitching. “I mean, maybe? Don’t really remember.”

Max drops down next to him, making the mattress dip and bubble as the air moves under her weight.

“Billy was whimpering in his sleep,” Max says quietly. “I dunno. It’s like I had this bad feeling, so I went to check on him. Then, like, as soon as I peeked into his room, he started thrashing around. Like he was trying to get away from somebody or something.”

“Was Chief Hopper,” Billy admits bitterly. “At least, that’s who I thought it was, in my dream. I could hear Will calling out for his friend, but—Hopper wouldn’t let me go to him.”

“Then you heard Will before he started screaming,” Max mumbles, her eyes growing wider.

“What—no. I heard him ‘cause he was loud, Max.”

“I didn’t,” she adds, swallowing and glancing at Hopper. “El was still here, in the living room, when I went to check on you.”

“Okay, it’s late, and we’re all exhausted,” Hopper says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever, Billy, but maybe it’s those drugs Jackson put you on. Anyway, you must be starving. You knocked out this morning and it’s now…” He checks his watch. “Hmph, after nine at night. So, sit tight and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I’m not really hungry,” he calls, but Hop waves him off.

“You’ll eat, then I’m taking a look at your back in case your bandages need changing.”

“So bossy,” he grumbles.

Billy glances at Max and finds her barely keeping it together.

“I’m okay, Shitbird. Just a little sweaty and weak. I’m still doing better than poor Will.”

She gently takes one of his hands and presses it between her own.

“Here—drink,” Hopper says flatly, passing Billy a mug of water. “Eat,” he adds, setting a plate on the coffee table with what looks like a well-stuffed ham and cheese sandwich. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Billy waits until Hopper’s out of the room, El trailing silently behind him, then he holds his mug up to Max.

“I’m fine,” she says, sniffling. “That’s for you.”

He shrugs one shoulder then drinks a few sips.

“Harrington go home?”

Max stares at him.

“Yeah, he went to pick Dustin up from school, I think. Like, sometime around three. Why?”

“Just curious,” Billy mumbles, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

The tang of mayo hits his tongue and he hums, happy to know the chief knows how to make a proper ham and cheese. Susan always used honey mustard, which was fine but gave him heartburn.

“Yeah, I thought it kinda was interesting, too,” she mumbles, leaning against the couch behind them. “Steve must’ve been here, like, three or four hours. Just hanging around, avoiding Jonathan and playing cards with me and El. Taught her how to play Crazy Eights. It was a riot.”

Billy arches an eyebrow and swallows some cheddar.

“He missed a whole day of school to hang out with you two? I mean, didn’t he spend all night with you, as well? Feels a bit weird, doesn’t it?”

His sister lets out a long breath, her fear and anxiety subsiding.

“Billy—don’t be so dense,” she scoffs, sounding more like her usual self. “You know why he hung around.”

“He was hoping to see Wheeler, like a sap?” Max rolls her eyes at him. “What—why was he here all day? I honestly have no idea and I’m too tired to keep guessing. Geez.”

He takes another bite and can feel her gawking at him.

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But only because I know you have that shitty nightmare, and you were still super sweet with Will.”

“Good to know your kindness has conditions,” he mutters, his mouth full.

“Steve stayed in case you woke up. He stayed to see you, dorkface. Because he cares about you.”

Billy makes a sound that’s half laughing and half choking. He has to get a hold of himself and drink some water, and swallow his food, before he can make a coherent response.

“What’s so funny, Billy?” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Steve’s been nothing but nice to you lately. Hell, other than punching you after you threatened Lucas—”

“Aw, geez,” he groans, interrupting. “Let it go already, would ya?”

“All I’m saying is—” She continues sharply. “Is that Steve was never mean to you. Besides, I saw the way he helped you to your room, Billy. Looked like he was holding onto you pretty tightly.”

“Oh, God. Don’t even.” He narrows his eyes on her. “We talked about this too, Maxine. Harrington might wanna be friends—but that’s it. End of story.”

“Um, that’s all I was getting at, William. Don’t get your jock-strap all knotted up,” she snorts. He gives her a sideways glance. “What? You called me ‘Maxine’.”

And, yeah. Billy can’t argue with her there.

“But all kidding aside,” she adds, sounding more serious. “I heard what Will said. How he asked you if you saw the monster. Now, maybe he was just upset, and half asleep, and his nightmare felt real enough that one of us might’ve actually seen the Mindflayer. But—he asked you specifically, Billy. So, do you know why he’d do that?”

“Mindflayer,” he repeats, whispering. “Is that what he calls it?” Max nods slowly. “I just…”

Billy sighs and picks at the crust on his sandwich.

“After Will shared with me about what happened to him—that he’d been fighting monsters in his head. In the hospital. I told him I’ve been having nightmares too. This tall, shadowy figure stands over me while I’m sleeping. It only happened that first night we went back to Cherry Lane. And, uh, I mean. Maybe it happened again tonight? Maybe what I imagined was Hopper was actually him.”

Max reaches and takes his free hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Don’t let him in, Billy,” she says, voice low but firm. “Don’t let him into your head, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and he means it. “But… This is all just some fucked up coincidence, right? My nightmares are only manifestations of my fears; like Hopper being just like Neil. It’s not a demon, Max. Demons aren’t real. The only real monsters are people like my old man, and whoever took Will last year; and kept El locked up in a fucking basement.”

She squeezes his hand again, her eyes red as she fights back tears.

“No, Billy,” she whispers, breathless. “Demons are very, very real.”

The lamp by the couch flickers, casting shadows on the wall, and Billy thinks he might be sick.

“Max, stop,” he pleads softly, his chest tight. “It’s gonna be okay. I won’t…” The words catch in his throat and he hates how raw and split open he feels. “I won’t become a monster like Neil. Okay? I didn’t know how to save myself, but you did. You saved me, Max.”

Max collapses into his chest and Billy holds her, petting her hair, and trying to be strong for her.

“I know I’ve been a shitty little sister,” she mumbles. “But I love you, Billy.”

“Love you, too,” he murmurs softly.

 

…

Chapter Text

The next morning, there’s a certain amount of dread hanging heavily over Billy's head. Aside from his nightmares, he knows he needs to go back to school, but he isn’t so sure he'll be ready come Monday.

Reading over the science notes he borrowed from a girl in class, someone who was actually paying attention, he can tell that a lot of what they’re covering at the moment is the same as last year. Maybe his old school was ahead, which helps, because now he doesn’t have to worry as much about learning something new.

But even with this small reassurance, Billy still isn’t convinced he won’t fall behind.

There’s a knock on the door, breaking his concentration. Billy looks over, his ribs aching with the sudden movement, and he starts to stand up.

Max grabs at his wrist, tugging him down; giving him a disturbing sense of déja vu.

“What are you doing? This isn’t our house,” she hisses.

“Yeah, but Joyce is busy with Will in his room, and it’s kinda rude not to answer, dontcha think?”

“What if it’s my mom—or Neil?” Max warns, voice low. “Just get Jonathan if you don’t wanna bother Ms. Byers.”

Their visitor knocks again, a little louder this time, and Billy waves his sister off.

“Sure, and interrupt his makeout session with Wheeler?” Billy snorts “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Billy!” she whisper-shouts, almost jumping off the couch as he opens the door.

“Hi, can I help you?”

The woman in a dark suit blinks at him. Her textured hair is pulled up in a bun with a few loose curls framing her face. She looks tired, the bags under her eyes not quite hidden by makeup.

“Hi—Jonathan?”

The corner of Billy’s mouth quirks up as he fights a grin.

“No… Is that who you’re looking for?”

She lets out a nervous laugh and fidgets with her purse strap.

“No, not really. I’m Patty Newby. I’m actually looking for Joyce Byers. Sorry, I just assumed you were her older son; Jonathan.”

“Newby,” he repeats slowly, glancing at Max over his shoulder. “Oh, right. Shit. I mean—” He winces and steps aside. “Yeah, come in and we’ll get her. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Patty says, offering him a weak smile. “Did you know my brother?”

“Um, honestly? No. But I’ve heard some really good things about him.”

Patty enters the house and looks around the room, squinting curiously at the air mattress leaning up against the far wall.

“I’ll go and get Ms. Byers,” Max interrupts, setting down her homework. “You know, so you don’t yell.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

Billy trails off as Max scampers down the hall. He pushes down his annoyance because he knows Will is resting, and he isn’t a jerk. God he wishes he could be sleeping right now, he just hasn’t been able to get more than an hour or two since that fucked up nightmare.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says, gesturing for Patty to take a seat. “We’re making do until we can, ah, figure something better out.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine. I’m not staying long,” she says, sitting primly in an arm chair. “This place looks… Mostly the same…”

“Oh yeah? When were you here last?”

“Bobby dragged me here once to drop off some assignments for Joyce right after her dad died,” Patty says distractedly. “So, like, twenty-five years ago?”

“Wait, seriously?” Billy snorts and looks around, and it’s like the peeling wallpaper and scuffed floorboards suddenly feel more noticeable. “Huh, I guess that’s why she kept the house after her ex left.”

“Who—Lonnie?” Patty scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah, none of us ever understood why she dated that man, let alone married him. And by we I mean my brother and their friends. But, sorry.” She looks up at him, amused. “Who are you again?”

“Oh, I’m Billy, and that was my sister Max. I think she was nervous that you were the social worker from Indianapolis. I mean, you’re not, right?”

“Social worker? No,” she says quietly. “Is this something to do with her other son; Will? Bobby told me he was, ah, having some issues.”

“God, no. It’s us—me and Max. We’re the ones with the issues. Although, Will did go through a hard time recently, and I don’t think he’s taking your brother’s death all that well. Kind of blames himself.”

“That’s silly, he’s just a boy…”

Billy feels like he might’ve said too much already when she gives him a strange look. Thankfully, Joyce appears in the hall and saves him from having to explain anything.

“Patty—hi. I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

Flustered, Joyce reaches out her hands, clasping both of Patty’s and giving them a squeeze.

“Joyce, hello.” Patty pulls her into a hug, like a long lost friend. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?” Joyce asks as they move apart. “Oh, I’m coping. Sorry to keep you waiting. Will had one of his nightmares—he was only just released from the hospital yesterday. How are you doing, Patty?”

“Goodness, I can come back another time if you need to be with him?”

“Oh, it’s okay. His friends are with him now, keeping him company and making him feel safe. And his brother is just across the hall. So, please—sit down. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I mean, I know why you’re in town, but you haven’t said why you’re here—in my house. You must have a reason?”

Patty gives her a strained smile and glances at Billy and Max.

“We’ll, um, go do our homework in the kitchen,” Max says anxiously, picking up her things. “C’mon, Billy.”

“Yeah, we’ll give you some space,” he remarks, following her lead. “I thought you were sitting with Will?” he adds as they enter the next room.

“Mike’s with him,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “We’re getting along better now, but he gets so weird around Will sometimes. I’d rather just leave them be.”

“Isn’t El keeping him company, too?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Which means Mike is being extra weird.”

Billy gives her a funny look as he sets his things down on the table. He sits in the chair closest to the archway, leaning back and trying to listen in.

“Their grief is none of our business,” Max mumbles, getting back to her math. “Don’t be so nosy.”

“I’m not, I’m just worried about Joyce. She hasn’t seen this woman in decades, Max. What if she gets upset or needs backup?”

Max narrows her eyes at him.

“Who are you and what have you done with my selfish brother?”

“Not funny, Shitbird. I mean it. Joyce has opened her home to us, the least we can do is have her back.”

“I doubt Patty is gonna do anything horrible to her, Billy. Just do your homework. God knows you have enough of it.”

“I got through most of it,” he mutters, edging back in his chair a little more.

“Really? Geez, I hope your new pals don’t find out about your secret nerdiness.”

“Please, Hagan already copies off of me,” he admits, snorting. “Well, he did for the week I was in class.”

“Then he’ll be overjoyed when you go back on Monday. I mean, if you want to go back. I don’t think Hopper’s gonna make you, or anything. He wants you to wait until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Billy retorts with a confidence he doesn’t exactly feel. Then he cracks his neck distractedly, making her wince. “Ugh, sorry. Wasn’t expecting that to be so loud.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure it feels better,” she hums, smiling softly at him.

“Okay, now it’s my turn. Who are you and where’s my bratty little sister?”

“Ha ha,” she deadpans. “Look, don’t get mad, but I think we’ll both sleep better if you and El switch sleeping places.”

Billy blinks at her.

“You want me to share that lumpy air mattress with you?”

“Don’t act like we didn’t have to crowd in a couple weeks ago while we were on the road.”

“Yeah,” Billy shakes his head. “That was such a red flag when Neil made you drive with me most of the way. It was a big deal, driving those long hours without your mom. And I was such an asshole to you.”

Max gives him a sad look when he pauses and huffs out a sigh.

“You know why he did that, right? Wanted to make sure you stayed on the road and didn’t suddenly take off. Although, if I’m honest, I almost asked you to turn around and fuck off back to California. I’d finally find my dad and you could do whatever you wanted.”

“I doubt Neil would’ve let that happen, Max. But it’s a nice thought. God—that fuckin’ cheepskate only ever paid for one motel room. Had to sleep in my car that last night, the floor was killing me.”

“Must be why your neck’s so messed up still,” she teases.

“Yeah—that’s why, he snorts.”

Will shuffles into the kitchen in slippered feet, his eyes hooded, tired. He reaches for a cup in the cupboard, and Patty abruptly cries out, startling them.

Billy gets to his feet, hurrying into the living room, his pulse racing, while the younger two stand frozen.

“What’s the matter?” Joyce asks, gripping Patty’s arm.

“I thought I saw…”

Patty lifts a shaky hand, a finger pointing right at Billy. No, not at him, but at the kitchen.

“Who… Who was that boy? You saw him, too. Didn’t you?”

“Who—Will?” Billy asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“That’s my son, Patty,” Joyce says, her eyebrows knitting together as she crosses the room. “Will just got up to get a drink, I think.”

Will inches out of the kitchen and Joyce wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

“Will, this is Bob’s sister; Patty. She came by to let us know that she thinks you and your friends can have a look through Bob’s board game collection. He has a lot of video games and books you might like, too.”

“I…” Patty swallows, clearly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Will. I saw you out of the corner of my eye. You reminded me so much of… Never mind. I didn’t mean to scream like that.”

“It’s okay,” Will says, eyes wide. “You, um, don’t really look like Bob.”

“That’s because Patty was adopted, sweetie,” Joyce says, pressing a kiss to his hair. “She re-connected with her birth mom when she was in high school. She and Bob drifted apart after that. But they’re still brother and sister—well, they were.”

“Yeah, okay,” Will mumbles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that he never mentioned you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Patty says, smiling sadly. “But he mentioned you to me. Said you were exactly how he imagined his own son would be like. He really cared about you, and your brother.”

“Oh, um, thanks…”

Will starts to well up, and Joyce rubs soothing circles into his back.

“C’mon, baby,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Mike comes careening down the hall just as they turn to go. His chest heaves but his face lights up.

“There you are! Geez, you scared me.”

“Was just thirsty, Mike,” Will drawls, sniffling. “I can get my own water, you know.”

“I know, but I woulda gotten it for you,” Mike retorts, walking backwards, like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of him again, not even for a second. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, silly.”

“I’m not an invalid, silly,” Will shoots back, chuckling.

“I guess he’s okay,” Max muses.

“I guess so,” Billy shrugs,

“I think I’ll go and hang out with them now,” she adds, heading down the hallway. “Maybe keep Mike from smothering him.”

“Good idea,” he muses.

That’s when Billy realizes he’s now alone with Patty, which isn’t awkward at all.

“Ah, that’s really nice of you,” he says, fidgeting with the gold chain around his neck. “Sharing your brother’s collections with the kids.”

“I don’t have much use for it all, and I know Bob would want them to have something of his,” she says easily. “I just feel so silly, getting freaked out by poor Will. He looks…”

“As pale as a ghost? Yeah, we’ve noticed,” Billy admits.

“No—I mean, yes. But…” Patty sighs and sits down again. “When I saw him, but wasn’t really looking at him, Will looked more like this boy I used to know. He was…special. Very special. But he, ah, died. It was very tragic.” She lets out a strained laugh and picks up her purse. “Who knows, maybe Bobby’s passing has me thinking about him again.”

“This boy,” Billy tries, holding his breath for some reason. “What was his name?”

Patty glances away, then down the hall, and she takes a step closer to him.

“His name was Henry,” she whispers.

A chill runs up Billy’s spine just as the lamp closest to them flickers and the radio in the kitchen fuzzes to life.

“This old house must have trick wiring,” Billy says, chuckling off the ghostly activity.

“I’m sure it does,” Patty hums, taking out a card from her purse and pressing it into his palm. “Here—I forgot to give Joyce my card. I’ll be staying at the motel off the highway for a few more days; at least until after the funeral on Sunday. Tell her to give me a call if she needs anything. I think she said she still has a set of keys to Bobby’s apartment.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, distractedly looking down at her business card. “I’ll tell her.”

Patty offers him a gentle smile and then sees herself out.

Finding the whole interaction strange, Billy goes into the kitchen to switch off the radio. His hand hovers over the dial, though, when the song sounds familiar.

His mom loved the ‘The Mamas and The Papas’ when he was little, and they sang a version of this song. This isn’t the version he’s used to, though. No, this one sounds older, and far creepier.

Sweet dreams, 'til sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams, that leave all worries behind you…But in your dreams, whatever they be; Dream a little dream of me…

Billy touches the switch to shut it off and a pair of hate-filled, blue-grey eyes flash in front of him. Then the music stops, and Billy snaps his head to the side to find El looking up at him; worried.

“Did you…um.” Billy tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly so dry it’s almost impossible. “Wherever you were before Hopper found you? Was there somebody there named Henry?”

El slowly shakes her head and shows him the tattoo on her wrist.

“I do not remember anyone else,” she says quietly. “But I am Eleven. Maybe there were others? Others before me?”

Now that’s a horrifying thought.

“Yeah, maybe,” he breathes.

“Are you okay?” she asks, searching his gaze.

“Think so,” he whispers.

“Are you sure? Your back is bleeding.”

Billy huffs out a breath.

“Great—just what I needed.” She tilts her head and knits her brows together. “Sorry, I was being sarcastic, El. Of course I don’t need my back to be bleeding.”

“I will get Will’s mom.”

“Thanks, kid.”

Billy eyes the radio, almost daring it to come on on its own again. Thankfully, it stays quiet.

“We seriously need to get out of this house,” he mutters under his breath.

“Joyce! Kids? I think I found the perfect place!”

“What are you talking about, Jim?” Joyce asks, her voice excited but her expression annoyed. “Aren’t you supposed to be on duty?”

“Got my radio,” he says, touching the device clipped by his shoulder. “Was that Patty Newby I passed on the road? What was she doing here? I thought everything was all taken care of?”

“She wanted to make sure I knew we could go through some of Bob’s things, now that his estate is closer to being settled. I guess she got everything. Which, if I’m honest, makes me feel a little better. I still don’t know how I’m going to make it through his funeral on Sunday.”

Hopper wraps his arms around her and dips, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I know it’s gonna be tough on you and the boys, but it’s important to say a proper goodbye. Just wait until you see this house, though. It’s perfect—or close to it. Do you think Will’s up for a quick viewing? I want everyone to see the place.”

“I think he can manage,” she says quietly. “How far is it, exactly?”

“Not far. It’s on Lover’s Lake.”

Billy leans in the archway to the kitchen, happy to see them so openly affectionate, yet sad at the same time. It’s good, though. Getting to see people he admires expressing normal, natural emotions without anyone flying into a rage or screaming.

“Isn’t that still kind of close to the National Lab?” Joyce needles, her chin resting on Hop’s chest as she gazes up at him.

“It’s further than here,” he chuckles, booping her nose. “I think you’re thinking of Jordan Lake.”

“Am I?”

“Trust me, okay?” He says pulling out a pamphlet from his back pocket. “It’s got so much space, and the current owners have been fixing it up. Two levels, and a basement; and a wrap-around, screened-in porch.”

“Hm, sounds expensive,” she mumbles, snatching the pamphlet to inspect it.

“What’s going on?” El asks, stepping closer to peek over Joyce’s shoulder.

“I found us a new house,” Hop says, lighting up. “Wanna go see it?”

El nods, grinning, then she looks at Joyce.

“Yes, we can go see it,” she laughs.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, kid,” Hopper hums, tousling her hair. “Right now.”

As El runs off to tell the others, Billy finally recognizes the ache in his chest. It isn’t really sadness; it’s jealousy, and a longing for something he’s never had. He just isn’t convinced he has it now, either. A real family to belong to. But hopefully that’s just his exhaustion talking.

Hopefully.

“Hm, looks like you need your bandages changed before we go,” Hop remarks, narrowing his eyes on Billy’s back.

He honestly never noticed the chief brush past him, but he must have because now he’s opening the Wheeler’s donated fridge and grabbing a beer. And, yeah, Billy misses beer about as much as he misses smoking. Maybe he can sneak one or both later tonight.

“Oh, right. Just started bleeding,” Billy admits, shrugging one shoulder. “It was weird.”

“For no real reason?” Hopper asks, sipping from his can.

“Um, no—but. Didn’t you just say you were still technically on duty?” he muses, smirking at the beer in his hand.

“Do as I say and not as I do,” Hop chuckles. “That’s how the saying goes, isn’t it? Now, c’mon. Can’t have you staining your jacket. Blood’s a bitch to get out of denim.”

Billy grins and follows him to the bathroom; which is now occupied.

“Hey, did I tell ya this new house has two and a half bathrooms? Amazing, right?”

“Sounds like heaven,” Billy snorts.

{~~~~~}

“Only four bedrooms?” Nancy remarks, looking around the spacious main room of the renovated cottage with a judgemental eye. “Is that even enough?”

“There’s a loft space in the attic, and an extra finished room in the basement,” Hopper remarks, beaming like it’s Christmas morning. “I figure El can take the loft, really make it her own. Or maybe the girls can share? There’s certainly enough room.”

“Right, keep her tucked away,” Jonathan says, stretching and yawning. “Sorry—I swear I’m not bored. Just tired.”

Billy gives him a sideways glance. Judging by the way Nancy blushes, he has one guess why.

“I dunno,” Mike mutters, picking up on his sister's negative vibe. “This place is kind of far from school. And it might be closer to our house, but it’s still, like, out in the boonies.”

“Exactly,” Nancy hums, testing the banister to the stairs by swinging her whole weight off it. “And what if something happened out here? Like a power outage, or somebody got mauled by a bear?”

“Mauled by a…” Hopper huffs out a laugh. “Okay, somebody's getting a little carried away. We’re still in Hawkins. Nobody’s getting mauled by bears.”

“What about attacked by wolves?” Mike gestures dramatically, making El giggle at his antics. “That could happen, Hop!”

“How about we go look upstairs?” Will hedges, grinning and tugging on Mike’s hand. “You can help me pick out my new bedroom.”

“Oh, um, yeah…” Mike looks suddenly bewildered but eager to please, his cheeks going pink.

“Great—and maybe we can look at the basement next? See if it’ll be good for our next campaign.”

“Oh?” Mike laughs, racing after him up the stairs. “You think so, huh? Gonna take over from my house?”

“Maybe!”

“Hey, wait up!” Jonathan calls, pulling Nancy along behind him. “I wanna see the bedrooms too!”

“Be careful, kids,” Joyce calls, wincing against their thundering footfalls in the mostly empty house.

“Shall we?” Hopper hums, extending his arm.

Joyce rolls her eyes and smirks.

“Sure—give us the grand tour.”

Hop wags his eyebrows before escorting Joyce and El upstairs.

Billy huffs out a sigh and presses his back into the thick support beam of old oak. The place is spectacular. Classic with modern touches. It reminds him a little of the older cottages along the coast, and the first house he shared with his mom while Neil was deployed in Vietnam. Those were the days, just him and her, all blue skies and easy laughter.

Needing to pull his shit together, Billy scrubs a hand over his face. Then he has the distinct feeling of being watched.

“You okay?”

Yeah, he totally forgot Max was still here. Worst brother ever.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. “Place just kinda reminds me of home.”

“Home?” she repeats, eyeing him. “You say that like it’s a good thing. I thought you’d hate to be reminded of California.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” he admits, shrugging.

“If you say so,” she snorts. “C’mon, let’s go look around.”

Billy drags his feet but follows behind her obediently nonetheless. The kitchen is as open and spacious as the main area, with a skylight and cozy eating nook.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Can almost picture us all crammed in there, eating breakfast together.”

“Sure, but only if you cook,” she muses.

“Jonathan makes pretty good scrambled eggs, and Joyce’s coffee is…drinkable.”

“Uh huh,” she snorts. “Maybe you can teach me and Will your ways before it’s too late.”

Billy smiles, almost proud.

“Sure thing, MadMax. Gotta do something to prepare you for the real world. Only, maybe don’t tell Sinclair you’re learning to cook. Don’t wanna give him ideas.”

“Lucas isn’t like that,” she mutters walking away from him.

“Max, all guys are like that…”

“Oh, wow…” Max grabs his hand, tugging through the side door. “Check this out!”

They step onto the back porch, and Max moves to lean on the railing. The view nearly takes his breath away. Towering trees of gold and red rise above their heads, and the grass below slopes downward, still lush and green despite the chill of autumn setting in. Beyond is all blue sky and its glassy reflection off crystal clear water.

“I think this is what heaven must look like,” Max murmurs. “Do you think Hop would be mad if I asked him to build me a skate ramp?”

Billy barks out a laugh.

“Are you kidding? I think he’d be thrilled. Means you wanna stay—make it like home.”

“Yeah…”

He moves to stand beside her, and Max tucks under his arm as she gazes dreamily out at the fairytale scenery.

“Too bad there’s no way they can afford this place. The land alone must be worth a fortune.”

“Okay, who pooped in your cornflakes this morning? Geez, just let them figure it out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Billy sighs, trying to memorize the view in case he never sees it again. “Besides, I hear there are wolves around here.”

Max snorts and gently punches him in the shoulder.

“You’re such a downer.”

“I’m simply being practical. I mean, we need to get Will out of that house, but this feels like a waste of time. Unless some of Bob’s collectables are worth a mint, they should be looking at smaller, more modest places.”

“Okay, Grampa,” she teases. “But maybe, just for shits and giggles, we could go look at the other rooms?”

“Sure; why not?”

They head back inside and Max immediately runs for the stairs. Billy grins at her excitement, happy to see her happy, and chases after her. As they reach the landing, there’s a small bedroom to the left, while all the others go down the hall to the right. Drawn to the intimate space, Billy ducks his head so it doesn’t hit the slanted ceiling.

A smile slowly curves his lips as he remembers seeing this overhanging window when they pulled up the long dirt road. There’s a little nook with a low bench built into the wall; a perfect spot for reading or listening to music.

Billy takes a seat and gazes out the window. A mournful train whistle carries from far away, and he can just see the pathway leading down to the water. Everything feels quiet, peaceful, even the birds chirping in the trees.

It’s as if he can breathe again for the first time in years, without the weight of his past; the loss of his mother and the wrath of his father. Billy feels like he can just be in the moment…

But deep down, he knows he’ll never get to have this room.

“There’s a bigger one down the hall,” Hopper tells him, offering him a goofy grin.

“Oh, hey, Hop,” Billy mumbles, turning to look at him. “It’s really nice here.”

“Yeah, the Midwest isn’t so bad once you give it a chance.”

“Yeah…” Billy sighs, his chest heaving and heart aching. “You can’t really afford this place, though, can you?”

“I’ll make it work,” he says, shrugging. “I have a feeling the government might be feeling generous about their compensation this time around. Especially when it comes to Will.”

Billy squints at him.

“Um, okay. But maybe this is when you, you know, explain stuff so I don’t freak out?”

“Oh, right…” Hopper rubs the back of his neck and huffs out a nervous laugh. “Let’s just say that when Will went missing last year it had something to do with the evil bastards that used to run things at Hawkins National Lab. But since then, a guy named Sam Owens took over, and he really truly was trying to help Will. Well, then things went all kinds of wrong. Things nobody could've predicted, and we almost lost Will. Hell—we almost lost the whole town. But… We didn’t, okay? Everything’s good now. Better than good. No more shady scientists and no more monsters.”

“Just wolves and bears and abusive asshole dads,” Billy remarks, slumping against the wall. “Yeah, okay.”

Hopper moves closer, hitting his head on the sloped ceiling and cursing under his breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think my pride hurts more than my hard head,” he chuckles. “But I was gonna ask if you’re okay? I know this has been a lot of change for ya, kid. But it feels like there’s something else bothering you. Something more than Neil and feeling like a fish out of water.”

“It’s, uh, the nightmares,” Billy admits quietly. “Sometimes they feel too real. Like someone or thing is trying to hurt me; or worse. Trying to stop me from being close to Will.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Billy shrugs one shoulder and gazes out the window, finding it easier to talk if he doesn’t have to look at Hopper directly.

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “Maybe I see a lot of myself in him? But Will… He has his mom and Jonathan, and all his friends around him. It’s like he’s the me I could’ve been if my mom…”

Billy hates himself for the pitiful little sob he chokes on.

“I know,” Hopper says softly, kneeling down as he gently rests a hand on his shoulder. “I know, kid. But… The thing about Will is; he’s gonna have a hard road ahead. I just hope his friends stick by him, come what may. They all already know how it feels to be treated like an outcast, so I think they will. But it’s scary, ya know? Especially when suddenly this is about your kid.”

“Then you think he might be… You know what?”

“If we’re thinking about the same thing, then yeah. I do. I hope that’s not a problem for you?”

Billy turns his head, his eyes red-rimmed, and meets his gaze.

“Hop… I said I saw myself in him, remember?” he murmurs, his brows furrowing.

“I know…” A light goes on behind the chief’s grey-blue eyes. “Ooooh…”

“Yeah, exactly.”

For a few seconds Hopper doesn’t say anything. Then he shakes his head and carefully pulls Billy into him.

“Thanks for telling me, kid,” he says, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, even if it wasn’t in so many words.”

“You’re not pissed off?”

Hopper moves back a fraction to meet his eyes.

“No, Billy,” he says easily. “Of course not. Just… Be careful. That’s all I ask. And—now that you’re part of the family—I’m gonna wanna meet whoever you decide to go out with. Make sure they’re good enough.”

Billy fondly rolls his eyes.

“As if,” he snorts, wiping at his wet lashes.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. That's nonnegotiable—for all the kids.”

“That so?”

Hopper cups his cheek and gives it a pat.

“Oh, yeah. That’s definitely so.”

He chuckles, then groans, struggling back onto his feet. Hop hits his head a second time, wincing.

“Seriously, you can have a room you can stand up in.”

“I can stand up okay,” Billy chuckles. “I’m not as tall as you, Sasquatch.”

Hopper grins and turns to go, but he pauses at the doorway.

“Oh—but if you wanna date Harrington, he’s pre-approved. Just clear it with Max and Dustin first. We don’t wanna start a war or anything.”

“Excuse me?” Billy squeaks, his face flushing. “I’m not—that’s ridiculous. Harrington is the straightest guy I’ve ever met. Well, next to Andy Walsh, anyway.”

“Uh huh…”

“Don’t smirk at me! What kind of a father figure smirks like that at their kid? You’re the worst foster parent, by the way.”

Hopper simply laughs and walks the room.

“Okay, kid. Whatever you say.”

 

…

Chapter Text

Steve huffs out a sigh and presses his back into the wall beside the bleachers. For a few minutes, he gets lost watching Billy run circles around the other players on the court, moving as easily and naturally as anyone who wasn’t masking bruised ribs and a shredded back.

If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d think Hargrove was superhuman or something. He certainly hasn’t lost that golden California glow.

A loud clank suddenly draws his attention away. Whatever is making the sound bounces down the bleachers, nearly hitting Steve on the way to the floor. He flinches and jumps back, protecting his head with both arms.

If the slight halos from the gym lights are anything to go by, Steve might still be recovering from his latest concussion, and another blow to the head wouldn’t be advisable, no matter how small.

“Oops,” a familiar voice snickers. “Did I get ya, Harrington?”

“Hagan?”

Steve groans and picks up the can in a sweeping motion. He realizes it’s a fucking beer can within seconds and tosses it into the garbage before the coach, or anybody else, can see it. He then climbs up the bleachers and lands beside Tommy; who’s already digging in his bag for another one.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Steve hisses. “You reek of alcohol, dude. Not cool.”

“Not cool,” Tommy repeats mockingly. “You really have turned into a pussy babysitter, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m the problem here. Like, don’t you know better than to drink on school grounds—and in front of a damn teacher, no less?”

“Please, Coach has his head so far up Hargrove’s ass he can’t possibly see anything other than the guy’s prostate.”

Steve simply stares at Tommy as the guy cackles at his own stupid joke.

“Seriously, man. What’s going on with you? You skipped chemistry and Carol was looking for you after English Lit. Like, what gives?”

“Nothing, man. M’fine,” Tommy drawls, huffing out a laugh. “Besides, since when does Carol talk to you? Oh, right…”

He wags a sloppy finger in Steve’s face before leaning back a little.

“What?” Steve scoffs, knocking his hand away.

Tommy grins sharply, his eyes dancing.

“Wheeler broke up with you. Spectacularly. Guess my girl figures you can be friends again, now that that bitch’s out of the picture. And, I mean, sure. Maybe if you grovel a little, first.” He pauses to glance down at his sneakers. “Maybe if you lick my shoes—for starters.”

“Yeah, you certainly seem fine,” Steve snarks, his lips pursing. “C’mon, Hagan. I’m not fucking grovelling. Especially not to you. And you need to get down from here—right now.”

“Okay, Mom. Jesus.”

Steve hears the rustling of pom-poms, and picks up the scent of expensive perfume. As he looks over, Heather Holloway leans on the bleacher rungs with her head lifted up to them.

“What are you doing, Tommy?” she asks, snorting. “Coach already has two players performing at half capacity,” she says, bluntly nodding at Steve. “Why’re you being such a dickhead?”

Steve sighs at being called out, and Tommy flashes her the finger.

“Fuck you, Holloway. A girl has died—or didn’t you hear?”

“What?” Steve squeaks. “What’re you talking about?”

Heather rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Must be talking about that poor Holland girl. I think her name was Barb, maybe?” she remarks, unimpressed. “Dude, that girl died, like, a year ago; and as if you even care? You were nothing but mean to her.”

“Was not!”

“Yeah, you kind of were. “We all were, sadly,” Steve agrees, chewing his lower lip.

His gaze lands on Billy again, just as he jumps and sinks a perfect basket. Steve feels a little lightheaded; because why was that so damn hot?

“Well, she died at your party, asshole,” Tommy slurs, swinging down from the bleachers and almost losing his balance. “Makes you respons-sisble, don’t ya think?”

Steve glances nervously at Heather, unsure why or how Tommy would think that, and makes his way down to them.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?” Heather asks, annoyed. “God, you smell like a brewery,” she adds, waving a hand in front of her face. “Go home, dipshit. And stop spreading horrible rumors. Stevie just admitted to being a jerk—that doesn’t mean he had anything to do with the poor girl’s death.”

“Look, it’s true that she was at my place the night she vanished,” Steve admits. “But Barb went missing after she left our little party, okay?”

“Then why was creepy Byers showing you photos of her and some kind of fucking monster, huh?” Tommy punctuates his question with a harsh finger poke in Steve’s chest. “And why was her car found abandoned In the same exact place she parked it that night? Tell me that, Harrington.”

“Wow, you’re certifiable,” Heather snorts, shaking her pom-poms at Tommy. “Seriously, go home. It was that shady lab who covered up her disappearance; at least according to the news. And, I mean, no wonder Byers’ little brother lost his shit a couple weeks ago. Wasn’t he getting treated there for some reason? The whole thing is so fucked up.”

Steve’s eyes widen as his stomach drops. He isn’t sure how Heather, head cheerleader of all things, would know something like that.

“Uh, I think so. Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “Where did you hear that?”

“Um, by not being a stuck-up prick and actually listening to people—duh.”

“Barbie Doll’s running for Homecoming Queen, ya know,” Tommy snorts. “Carol’s been campaigning for her. She likes to flirt with the geeks and chat up the burnouts to get their votes.”

“Fuck you, Hagan. I’m always nice.”

“Oh, you’re a goddamn woman of the people,” he mutters, gesturing with his hand and tongue in a very sexually suggestive motion. “Everybody loves you.”

Heather throws down her poms and lunges at him. But Steve hurries to cut her off, wrapping his arms around her waist before she can manage to touch Tommy.

“C’mere, you little pervert! I’ll scratch your fucking eyes out!”

“Hey, hey, now… What’s going on?”

Steve winces and lets go of Heather as Jason Carver and Andy Walsh jog over; his two least favorite teammates. The cheerleader smoothes her hair and skirt, then casually picks up her poms before jutting out her chin.

“Hey, Jason,” she says tightly. “It’s fine. Tommy was just leaving.”

“Leaving?” Andy repeats, squinting at Tommy. “We just started drills, buddy. C’mon, you don’t wanna get stuck on second string, do ya?”

Thankfully, Tommy puts up a hand.

“I think I’ll pass. Might, ah, puke if I run drills right now.”

Jason wrinkles his nose and takes a step back when Tommy makes his way down to them, wobbling a little.

“Okay, then. Well, feel better.”

“By the way,” Andy calls as they start back to the court, “You’re looking good, Holloway. I’m free tonight, if you’re interested. We can double with Jay and his new girl. You know, the Skipper to your Barbie,” he adds, snorting.

“No, thanks. I don’t date strays who haven’t had all their shots yet.”

Andy clutches his chest, as if wounded, before cackling and jogging off.

“Such nice young men,” Heather mutters flatly. “Offering to take you home and all. What great friends you have, Thomas.”

“Yeah, don’t look at me,” Steve remarks, his hands up. “I’m not driving him home either.”

Heather shoots him a sharp look.

“But…” he tags on, inching closer to the gym door. “I can go find Perkins.”

“Good idea, Stevie,” she hums, throwing him a wink. “I’ll keep an eye on Drunko, the eighth dwarf, while you go do that.”

“Ha ha,” Tommy deadpans.

“You know I’m hilarious,” Heather teases, giving Tommy a light shove and making him sit down. “Now, stay. Good boy.”

“If I roll over will you rub my belly?” Tommy smirks.

Steve pauses, afraid he might need to intervene.

“No, but I’d be more than happy to book your neuter with the vet. Oh, and by the way—please tell your macho teammates to stop calling me Barbie. That was a personal nickname, only certain people are allowed to use. I’m not some plastic bimbo for you boys to treat like their toy.”

Heather glances at Steve, offering him a soft smile, and vague memories of hours spent playing with dolls in Heather’s dream-house floats to the forefront of his mind. Maybe that’s why he loves styling his hair so much.

“Ah, c’mon, Heather—that bitch has everything, just like you,” Tommy snickers. “And a rocking bod to boot.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely having you neutered.”

 

Steve finally finds Carol outside, having a smoke with Nicole and Tina. They give him the cold shoulder until he mentions Tommy H, then Carol stomps out her cigarette.

“Where is he?” she seethes.

Steve leads her back towards the gym, but Heather waves them in the direction of the boy’s locker room; and yeah, Carol shows herself in with Steve hot on her heels.

“Thomas Franklin Hagan. What the Hell is wrong with you?”

Tommy seems to instantly sober as Carol marches into the locker room like she owns the place. All five-foot-nothing of her squares up to her idiot boyfriend, and Tommy flinches before she can even lay a finger on him. Then she flicks his bicep—hard.

“That’s for fucking flinching, you coward,” she scoffs. “Like I’d ever hit you.”

“You just did!” he whines, rubbing his stinging skin.

Carol rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, you big baby.”

“Uh, maybe you two should talk outside,” Steve suggests, checking the clock on the wall. “You know, since there’s about to be a dozen sweaty guys in here, who are gonna want to strip down to start showering?”

“Hey, they don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” Carol says, crossing her arms and shrugging.

“Carol!” Tommy huffs, arms wide. “Let’s go—I don’t wanna even think about you eyeballing other boys…balls.”

She snickers as her boyfriend snatches up his gym bag and throws it onto his shoulder, before grabbing her hand to drag her out of the locker room.

“They’re so disgustingly dysfunctional,” Heather mutters, watching the pair walk away, bickering. “I really hope they never breed.”

Steve winces when Carol wriggles her hand out of his grip and whacks Tommy upside the head.

“Yeah, you and me both,” he mumbles.

As the team passes them in the narrow hallway, Steve notices Billy get stopped by a girl. She isn’t his usual type; tall, gawky and barely any skin showing. He can’t quite hear what she’s saying over the boisterous jocks, but the girl seems to be talking a lot, and really using her hands.

Billy laughs at something she says, and the tall girl hits him playfully in the shoulder, laughing too. There’s something so natural and honest about their interaction that Steve almost feels bad for watching them. It’s strange, though, how Billy doesn’t put on any of his usual macho bullshit and, if Steve didn’t know any better, he'd say Billy might actually like this girl.

“You’re staring, Stevie,” Heather hums, smirking. “Didn’t know you were so into band geeks.”

“Wha—?”

Billy passes them, like he’s in a hurry, without so much as an acknowledgment. Steve almost gets whiplash, following Billy only to abruptly turn back to watch the girl now waiting on him.

“The dirty blonde,” Heather says primly. “See something you like?”

“What—no?” She arches an eyebrow at him. “C’mon,” Steve adds, snorting. “I was merely wondering the same thing—about Hargrove. I mean, she isn’t exactly his type either.”

“And you know all about his type, do you?” she muses.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Look, Holloway. Do you know who she is or not?”

“Who—Buckley?” Heather laughs, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “Robin’s a band geek, like I said. Plays at all the school assemblies… At some of your games? Geez, your whole world really did revolve around Nancy Wheeler this past year, didn’t it? Because I’m pretty sure you have classes with her.”

“Okay, so… She’s new here, too?”

Heather wrinkles her nose.

“No, Steve. I don’t think so,” she says flatly. “Maybe you should get your head out of your ass and you might be surprised by all the interesting people you’d meet. You know, ones who aren’t selfish, narcissistic assholes like your old keg buddies.”

Steve frowns, his brows knitting together.

“Thanks, Heather. Like I need advice from the Homecoming Queen about my narcissistic tendencies.”

She pinches his arm hard enough to bruise.

“Ouch!” He rubs the welt forming under his skin and gives her a dirty look. “What’s your fucking problem? Unless this is your sadistic version of pigtail pulling?”

“You wish,” she drawls. “Hm, looks like geek girl is watching us.”

“Can you blame her? You’re being insane right now.”

“I blame Tommy,” Heather mutters, sighing. “He’s put me in a bad mood. Plus, pretending to be all cheerful during cheer practice makes my teeth hurt. Most of the guys on the team are total jerks. Sometimes it feels like maybe you and Billy are the only exceptions. I feel so bad for crapping all over him for standing me up, especially now that I know he was telling the truth about his sister.”

“Yeah, Max definitely ditched him a couple weeks ago. Got them both in a world of trouble; which was partially my fault,” he admits, sighing. “But we can’t be the only ones. Patrick and Chance aren’t that bad.”

“Sure, when they’re away from Andy, Jason and Tommy, maybe,” she snorts. “But together? Together they have a deeply disturbing misogynistic mob mentality.”

Steve huffs out a sigh. He can’t exactly argue with that.

Realizing that Billy’s taking a while, and the band girl—Robin—is still glancing at them from time to time, Steve decides to intervene.

“Hey, are you waiting on Hargrove?” he calls to her.

Robin’s head snaps to him and she looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Are you… Talking to me?”

“Yeah, hi,” Steve hums, giving her a small wave. “Did you want me to go and check on him?”

“Oh, um, sure,” Robin mumbles, her cheeks blushing. “He was getting my biochem notes. I lent them to him so he could stay on track. I’m sure he’s just, ah, gonna be a minute.”

“Oh, right. That was nice of you.” Steve offers her a warm smile, then he looks at the closed locker room door. “But he’s already been a few minutes. Maybe I should go in and see what’s taking him so long.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. He can give them back tomorrow,” Robin says, glancing past him at Heather. “I don’t mind.”

“But he said he was getting them for you?” Heather asks, and Robin nods. “Yeah, Stevie, you should go check on him. Something feels off.”

“Yeah, okay. Wait here.”

“Like I was gonna go in there with you?” Robin muses, snorting. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“So many stinky, naked boys,” Heather winces, commiserating. “You’re definitely better off.”

Steve catches the way the two girls grin at each other before diving in, and he wonders if maybe Heather isn’t as awful as she seems most of the time.

 

Billy sits on a bench by the far wall, his head low and his face half hidden by the open locker door in front of him. Steve approaches him carefully, not wanting to startle him. Everybody else is already in the showers, the sound of the spray and rowdy chatter filtering in from the adjacent room.

“You okay?”

Blinking, as if returning from some deep recess in his mind, Billy looks up at him.

“Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he croaks, voice a bit raw.

“You did kind of run around and kick ass out there,” Steve says, giving him a grin. “Aren’t you meant to be easing in slowly?”

“I felt okay—when I started,” Billy replies, reaching for a thermos on the floor. “Think I sort of forgot, ya know?”

Steve nods, patiently waiting while Billy gulps water, some of it dripping down his chin and neck, seeping into his already sweat-damp t-shirt. Steve absently licks his lips, and his stomach does a funny flip, as he studies the way Billy’s biceps flex, as well as the barely hidden muscles in his chest.

Realizing that the funny feeling is actually something familiar, Steve clears his throat and shifts his weight, desperately trying to think of anything else before more parts of his own body start to betray him.

“So, um, that girl—Robin? She's still waiting for you. Well, for her notes, I think.”

Billy swallows, flustered, and Steve pretends not to look as Billy lifts his shirt and uses the hem to wipe his mouth. Pretends not to see the colorful bruise or the dark trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of his shorts.

Steve clears his throat and averts his gaze to the pair of gross sneakers on a nearby bench. The smell alone is enough to sober him.

“Oh, shit. Yeah. I guess I spaced,” Billy mumbles, probably thinking the sound Steve just made was to hurry him along.

“Um, yeah—I mean. It’s fine,” Steve assures. “She’s not annoyed, or anything.”

There’s a rustle of paper, and Billy passes him the notes.

“Here—can you give them back to her for me? I’m sort of waiting for the others to finish up before I shower. Don’t exactly feel like enduring their stupid commentary about my scars and bruises.”

“No, yeah. I get that,” Steve says, taking the pages. Their fingers brush against each other, making him feel warm all over. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you hadn’t passed out cold and those dipshits didn’t even notice, or care.”

Billy snorts, smiling at him much the same way as he had Robin, all soft and genuine.

“Thanks, Harrington. I might find your hovering annoying, but I know you mean well.”

“Ah, yeah,” he hums, shaking his head. “Sorry. But you know Max worries about you.”

“Sure—Max worries,” he says teasingly.

Steve smiles brighter, he just can’t help it.

“Well, see ya,” he adds, turning to go.

“Actually, if you don’t mind waiting, you can tell me what the Hell’s going on with Hagan.”

That funny flutter happens again, and Steve has trouble finding words for a second.

“Oh, sure. I mean, I can wait. For you. So we can—I can tell you. Sure.”

Billy arches an eyebrow at him.

“Plus, don’t want you to, like, space out again,” Steve adds hurriedly, chuckling. “So… I’ll be outside. There—” he gestures at the door. “Waiting.”

“Are you okay, Steve? Your head bothering you, or something?”

“What? No.”

Steve turns and pushes on the door—then he quickly pulls it open, realizing his mistake. Feeling like a complete moron, he doesn’t dare look back at Billy. No, that might end him right there and then.

He has no idea why he’s acting like a hopeless girl with a crush. It must be Max’s fault, bringing up kissing her brother so many times like she has. Like it’s something normal; like it could ever actually happen.

Yeah, Steve definitely blames Max.

“Here’re your notes,” Steve announces, marching over to Robin. “Billy got a little delayed, just like you said. He apologizes.”

“Oh, ah, thanks,” Robin says, tucking the pages into her bag. “Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow? I gotta get going.”

“Sure thing,” he hums.

“I like her,” Heather remarks after Robin goes. “She’s got a realness to her I could get used to.”

“That so? You switching teams on us, Holloway? Your fan club will be crushed.”

Heather swats his shoulder.

“Shut up!” she cries, though she’s laughing. “I gotta go find Chrissy. I told her I’d give her a drive home. Apparently her mom doesn’t know Carver well enough yet, and she chewed her out the other day for letting a boy drive her home. Ridiculous.”

“Isn’t Jason head of the celibacy committee?” Steve snorts. “Not that I’d believe it.”

“Yes.” Heather shudders. “I swear it’s those super religious weirdos who always end up pregnant at prom.”

“Then maybe having you as a friend will be good for Chrissy,” he offers, and means it.

“Yeah, maybe,” she sighs, giving him an easy grin. “Catch ya later, Stevie.”

“Catch ya later, Heather.”

{~~~~~}

“What’s wrong, Hargrove? Why so shy all of a sudden?”

Billy bites his tongue as Andy whips a wet towel at his ass and laughs. Luckily the towel smacks him over his basketball shorts and it barely hurts, though it proves his point.

This is exactly the kind of bullshit Billy’s been trying to avoid.

“Be nice, Walsh,” Patrick chides, giving his friend a dirty look. “You’re just jealous because he beat you in today’s drills—again.”

“Am not,” he scoffs. “But you’re right. Poor wittle Biwwy’s had enough of a beating from his old man. Nothing I could do would ever come close. Hey, maybe you should show us your battle wounds so we know you’re not faking.”

“What the Hell’s wrong with you?” Jason huffs, shoving Andy into a locker. “Why’d you say something that messed up? You don’t need to show us anything, Hargrove.”

“It’s fine, Carver. Walsh can’t help it—he has no common sense,” Billy mutters, slowly lifting the hem of his shirt and turning to show off the technicolor bruise over his left ribs, now a brilliant purple, yellow and green. “Happy now?”

He doesn’t even get to the lashes on his back before Andy staggers back and scrambles to cover his eyes.

“Jesus Christ!” he cries, gagging. “Enough—I’m gonna puke. I mean, how are you even upright right now?”

“Please don’t take the lord’s name in vain,” Jason huffs. “And you deserve it. Now, can we please leave Billy alone in peace?”

“Thanks, Jason,” Billy hums, tugging his shirt back down and grabbing his towel.

“Damn,” Patrick mutters. “You sure you’re okay? You were really giving it your all out there.”

“I’m fine, I swear. Thanks, though,” he says, offering him a weak smile.

Billy pauses on his way towards the showers, finding Patrick’s concern strange and out of place considering he’s barely spoken to the guy. And he hasn’t exactly been warm to him either; Patrick being black and all.

Fucking Neil.

“It’s Andy who needs the ego stroking, apparently,” Billy adds, snorting.

“Maybe once you get all nice and clean I’ll let you stroke something else of mine,” Andy taunts, making an explicit gesture. “Or are you exclusively Harrington’s bitch now?”

Billy stops cold, his shoulders tensing.

“What did you say?” he growls, not even turning around yet.

“You heard me,” Andy snorts. “S’why your old man beat the shit outta you and kicked you out. Everybody knows you’ve been sucking that rich boy’s cock since the night of Tina’s party. I mean, that’s the real reason Wheeler bailed; she just couldn’t compete.”

Something snaps inside him, and Billy whips around, ploughing into Andy. He grabs him by the hair and smashes his face into the locker—again and again and again—until the metal is dented by the guy’s skull and Andy drops onto the locker room floor; nothing but a bloody mess.

—At least that’s how it happens in his head.

Billy takes a breath, then another, pushing down his anger before slowly turning around.

“You’re so full of shit, Andy,” Billy chuckles, slipping on a mask of indifference. “You know for a fact that I’d be the one making that pretty boy suck my cock. Now fuck off, unless you’re a pervert. Just waiting to watch me soap up.”

A wheezy laugh bubbles out of Andy’s chest, and he dramatically waves him off.

“You wish,” he snorts.

Billy grins wolfishly, then he steps into the shower room.

His hands shake as he peels off his uniform and turns the tap, but not even the soothing heat of the shower seems to be enough to calm him. A silent sob escapes him, and Billy pounds the tiled wall with a fist.

 

After drying off and getting dressed, thankfully alone, Billy exits the locker room to find the hallway empty. On the one hand, he’s grateful Steve isn’t standing there, waiting on him like a lapdog, giving more fuel to that asshole’s fire. But, on the other hand, Billy feels let down, cold. Like he really needs a friend right now, and Steve just fucked off without him.

Like he deserves any better?

“Here you are,” Steve hums, all smiles as Billy reaches the parking lot. “Was starting to think I might need to come in and look for you again.”

“Here I am,” Billy says, suddenly feeling an odd sense of relief. “Hate to make you worry, Harrington.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he says easily.

That’s when Billy notices Steve has a cigarette pressed between his fingers.

“You smoking? Thought you quit?”

Steve takes a drag and holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment before breathing it out. There’s enough chill in the air for the cloud to look more pronounced, and it billows above Steve’s head like a halo.

“I did,” he admits, shrugging. “I guess I’ve fallen back into old habits since Nancy dumped me.”

Billy grins and reaches into his jacket pocket, sliding out a Marlboro Red from the pack. Steve gives him a funny sideways glance, chuckling.

“What? Jonny took Max and Will home today.”

“No, s’not that,” Steve mumbles, cigarette perched between his lips. “I thought you weren’t supposed to smoke while you’re healing, or whatever.”

“Yeah, but…” Billy grunts, searching for his lighter. “Quitting’s a process. Fuck, where is it?”

“Here,” Steve hums, getting his own out of his pocket and clicking it.

Billy flashes him a grin and leans into the small flame, lighting up. He keeps his eyes on the lighter and the mole on Steve’s thumb, determined not to lock eyes with the guy, like a fag.

The nicotine blissfully floods his senses as Billy takes a puff. He sighs happily and leans onto the hood of his Camaro, beside Steve.

“Thanks, pretty boy. Those jerks were a little extra today.”

“Hm?” Billy can feel Steve’s gaze on him, and he doesn’t hate it, even if he should. “They tease you about Robin chatting you up? I know she’s not exactly your usual type of groupie.”

“Robin?” Billy laughs, warm smoke escaping his nostrils. “No, man. They were, ah… Well, it was only Andy. He sort of implied I was your bitch. Actually, there was no implication—that’s what he said.”

“Right,” Steve snorts. “‘Cause you’d ever be my bitch. Has he seen you? I swear if we had a wrestling team you’d go undefeated. I mean, did that idiot forget that you kicked my ass not long ago?”

“Andy’s a simpleton. Probably forgot the second your bruises faded. Tell you what he didn’t forget; how Neil beat the shit outta me. Really appreciated the reminder.” Billy pauses, taking a long drag. “Like I could forget.”

“Billy…”

“Don’t,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I don’t need your pity, Harrington. I just need to vent, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says quietly, crushing the end of his cigarette under the toe of his shoe. “Did you hit the asshole?”

“And start a brawl in the locker room?” Billy shakes his head, flicking ash onto the asphalt. “Nah, just threw his taunt back at him. Told him you’d be my bitch, if anything. Laughed him off.”

“The guys in this town are the fucking worst,” he mutters. “If the boys at school are this bad, I’d hate to think what their fathers are like.”

“Well, you met mine.”

Steve gives him a pitiful, apologetic look, and Billy feels a lump form in his throat.

“Yeah, I still think Neil’s the exception—hopefully.”

“Yeah, me too,” Billy mumbles.

“There you are!” It’s Henderson, his arms above his head and a toothy grin plastered on his face. “I thought you were skipping practice today?”

“I was, sort of…” Steve sighs, glancing sheepishly at Billy, like he doesn’t want to go but hasn’t any other choice. “Lemma guess—you need a ride home?”

“I mean, if you’re offering?” Dustin chuckles, bouncing towards him.

“Hey, it’s time I went home anyway,” Billy says, tossing his half-smoked cigarette away. “I’m exhausted, and I know Max’ll be waiting by the window like some kind of worried pup.”

“Yeah, probably,” Steve says, frowning slightly. “I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah…”

For one fleeting second, Billy has the urge to invite him back to the Byers’ house. But everything’s a mess there, boxes and piles of knickknacks needing to be sorted. And then there’s Dustin. The kid’s already yapping Steve’s ear off, oblivious to what he just interrupted. Then again, Steve probably hasn’t got a clue either.

“See ya tomorrow, Steve,” he calls, tossing his bag in the backseat. “Maybe you can come check out the new house once we settle in?”

Billy goes to open his driver's side door, but he can feel Steve’s warm gaze on him. He lifts his head and finds him grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s going on? You have a stroke or something, Harrington?”

“You called me by my first name—just before.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’ve done that before,” he says, snorting.

“Maybe, but it’s still nice to hear,” Steve says, moving away from the car. “Plus, you invited me over. That feels like a big step.”

Billy snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

“Bye, Billy.”

He pats him gently on the shoulder and walks towards his BMW, the only other car in the student parking. Billy can’t help himself and checks out Steve’s ass as he hurries away.

“Hmm… Just look at it go,” he murmurs to himself, grinning fondly.

Steve gives his ass an extra little wiggle as he leans to unlock his car door, as if sensing Billy’s eyes on him. Billy flushes all over—dropping his car keys from his hand. He’s sure he can hear Steve laughing as he bends to retrieve them and, sure enough, he’s draped over the open door of his BMW; watching him.

“You okay, Billy?”

Was that a wink? Did Steve Harrington just fucking wink at him?

“Yep—fine,” he dangles the keys at him, his cheeks hot. “Just clumsy.”

“Well, be more careful on your drive home,” Steve calls, giving him a quick wave.

“I’ll be fine. You just worry about that kid talking your literal ear off the side of your face.”

Steve laughs, all sunshine and warmth, then he dips out of view.

Billy slides into his own driver’s seat and watches the Beamer from behind the wheel for a second, shaking his head.

“Just a stupid jock messing with you,” he mutters. “Don’t read anything more into it, you gullible idiot.”

{~~~~~}

“What the Hell was that?”

Steve pauses, his hand about to turn the key in the ignition.

“What was what?”

Dustin adjusts his cap, and his eyes dart to the Camaro pulling out of the parking lot.

“Ah, that thing you did with your ass,” he says, snorting. “I mean, I know you and Billy have a truce going on, given that recent shit that went down with his dad—and him moving in with Will’s family—but, c’mon!”

“What?” Steve squeaks.

“You were totally flirting with the guy. Like, I know your break up with Nancy was hard, but seriously; Billy? ‘Cause he’ll break your face again if you mess with him like.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hums, bringing the engine to life. “Now put your seatbelt on, buddy.”

“Duuuude.”

Steve clenches his jaw.

“It wasn’t flirting,” he huffs, gesturing dramatically while turning onto the street. “Geez, we were just being dumb teenagers. Is that no longer allowed or something?”

“Ah, I totally caught you winking at him, Steve.”

“Yeah, the guy was down in the dumps,” he argues, glancing at Dustin’s skeptical face. “I was trying to cheer him up, okay? Sometimes guys do that. Act like weirdos to get a reaction. It’s fun. Remember fun, Dee? You should try it sometime.”

“Uh huh…” Dustin narrows his eyes on him. “So, you didn’t feel anything in particular? Nothing, say, inspired your not real flirting?”

“Um, yeah—I told you. Billy was feeling shitty and I wanted to make him laugh.”

Dustin’s quiet for a few blocks, and staring straight ahead.

“He didn’t laugh,” he says at last.

“What?” Steve blinks at him, pulling into the driveway. “What’re you talking about?”

“Billy,” Dustin sighs. “He didn’t laugh at your pretend flirting.”

Steve knits his eyebrows together, confused by where this is going.

“So?”

“So—you’re sure you didn’t do it on purpose? Because you wanted to see him smile? Because you wanted to flirt? Because maybe you felt that thing you told me about? Some electricity between you, perhaps?”

“C’mon, Henderson…”

“Hey, I get it. I was kind of an asshole. But it’s okay. I mean, if you do like him. I guess. He’s certainly very different from Nancy. Although, according to Max, maybe he isn’t? She says he’s actually really smart; gets good grades, ya know. Plus, they have a similar eye color, too. And Billy’s definitely not afraid to boss you around.”

“Okay—enough,” Steve squeezes out, laughing nervously. “Nancy never bossed me around—”

“Oh, she totally did,” Dustin interjects. “But you needed some direction, I’m sure.”

Steve gives him a dirty look, insulted.

“Remind me never to talk to Billy around you in future. Now, get out you weirdo.”

Dustin rolls his eyes.

“I know you love me,” he teases. “And my mom’s made her double cheese casserole, if you wanna stay for dinner?”

“Mm-maybe?” Steve mumbles, tapping the steering wheel. “Is it chicken or beef?”

“It’s ground beef, of course,” he beams.

“Yeah, okay. If she won’t mind?”

“Trust me—she definitely won’t.”

Steve grins, a wonderful warmth spreading through his chest. Then he stops as he slams his car door, as the fleeting thought of wishing Billy could join them crosses his mind.

“Okay, that was weird…”

Claudia waves at him from the window, her face lighting up, and he shakes himself before trotting up the front steps behind Dustin.

Steve isn’t sure what’s going on between him and Billy. Sure his gut did some flip-flopping, but there were definitely no butterflies. So, he knows for sure that he hasn’t felt it yet, that exciting, undeniable crackle in the air.

Not yet, anyway.

 

…

Chapter Text

Billy’s lower back aches a little as he bends to gather up the tangle of twigs and small branches by the side of the house. It’s getting colder by the day, and they're calling for snow, so he wants to get the area cleared. None of it’ll go to waste, either. They used to use the same kind of debris to build bonfires on the beach, and the dry grass and reeds are perfect for kindling.

Although he misses the beach, the big bonfires, and the warmer temperatures, Billy’s actually looking forward to having their first fire in the house. The impressive stone fireplace is the centrepiece of their new home. Perfect for keeping warm on chilly mornings and romantic nights.

Billy’s still getting used to it; calling this house and these people his home. He’s working on it, but can’t help the feeling that everything might change in the blink of an eye. Max is in town with Hopper and Joyce at the moment to meet with Susan and a social worker—hence his need to keep busy. A mitigation meeting, they called it. A way of hopefully avoiding a full custody battle in court, if at all possible.

But Billy’s not holding his breath.

Due to his age and Neil’s pending charges, nobody’s been bothered to arrange his living conditions or guardianship. He’ll be eighteen in about four months and free of that bastard for good.

Well, legally, anyway.

He’s cupping his hands to his mouth, blowing hot breath on them to warm up, when the cruiser rolls up the long driveway. Max jumps out, almost before they’ve even come to a complete stop, and rushes past him.

“I fucking hate her,” she spits, disappearing into the house.

“I take it things didn’t go well?” Billy asks, squinting against the low sun.

“Not especially. No,” Joyce says, patting his arm. “Maybe you can come inside and be with your sister for a bit?”

“Of course,” he says, frowning. “Would’ve gone with her if I could.”

“Just woulda caused more problems. That woman is so delusional,” Hop says, huffing out a sigh. “But we know you would’ve. Max does, too.” He pauses, taking in his progress. “Hm, good job. Is everything all tucked away in the shed?”

“Yes, sir—shit,” Billy groans as Hopper raises his brows. “Yeah, Hop,” he corrects, sighing. “Sorry, not sure where that came from.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid” he hums, offering him a gentle grin. “But I think Joyce is right. Max could use her big brother right now.”

“Sure, I’ll just get this last pile outta the way and be right in. I’m sure El and Will have her covered for now, anyway.”

“Yeah, they’ve really bonded over these short weeks,” Hop remarks, grinning wider. “It’s been incredible to watch, honestly.”

“I know what you mean,” Billy hums, his heart feeling lighter despite the heaviness of the day.

“Need help, though?” he offers, gesturing, already walking closer to the porch.

Billy snorts and shakes his head.

“I think I can manage one last bunch, Hop. Go in and enjoy what’s left of your day off.”

“Thanks, kid. You’re really saving my ass with all the chores you’ve been picking up. I mean, we appreciate you.”

“Just as long as you keep letting me live here rent free, I think I get the better part of our bargain.”

Hopper laughs and shakes his head, stepping closer to him again.

“You know Joyce would never let me charge. But, all joking aside, don’t work too hard, okay? You’re not free labor, you’re one of our kids now.”

A wonderful warmth spreads through Billy’s chest and he almost doesn’t feel the nip in the air anymore.

“Thanks, Hop. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

Hopper reaches towards him, and Billy doesn’t flinch for once. Brimming with pride, Hop pulls him into a hug and pats him on the back.

“You’re a good kid, Billy. Never forget that. And, wherever your mom is, I’m sure she’d be damn proud of you.”

“Gonna make me cry, old man,” Billy mumbles, giving him a squeeze. “Stop being so sappy.”

Hop lets out a bark of laughter and lets him go, though his hands stay steady on Billy’s shoulders.

“I mean it, you know. Despite all that shit you had to go through, you’re still here, and you’re still trying. Not everybody can say that. Some can’t say anything at all ‘cause they gave up. So, just know we’re here for you, okay. Because I know our little group of misfits has a lot going on. But you’re not an adult—not yet. Leave that stuff to us. And if being with Max gets hard, and her venting about her mom is too much for you; you can tell us. We won’t be disappointed. We aren’t asking you to watch her as a chore. Just be there for her.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, a little overwhelmed. “And I know. And I wanna be here for her.”

“Good.” Hopper gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze and then heads inside.

Billy takes a few steadying breaths. He should be getting used to all their kindnesses, but it still feels foreign at times. Like a wonderful dream he might suddenly wake from.

Gathering the last of the yard waste, Billy takes it into the shed. It’s a fairly good size, like maybe it used to house a tractor or a boat, or something, back when this place was first built.

He drops the bundle with the rest, doing his best to press it against the wall and keep the place tidy. He checks to make sure he returned the rake and hedge clippers before moving to shut the large door, but something makes a soft mewling sound, catching his attention.

“What was that?”

Billy listens, unmoving, waiting for the sound again. He’s about to shake it off when he hears it in stereo.

“Uh oh…”

He grabs a flashlight off the shelf over the work table. It’s the same table and tools from the Byers’ old shed, though they didn’t bring Lonnie’s hunting gun. Or, if they did, it isn’t out here for anybody to pick up.

Not that Billy thinks he needs a gun. He was just surprised to learn there was normally a rifle—and buckshot—stored out behind their house, like it was a normal thing in Hawkins.

He picks up a long branch as well, gently poking at the twigs and grass in the back corner. The more he looks at it, the more he can tell that something has nested here. Moving back some of the longer grass, Billy finally finds the source of the sound.

Two hungry, mewling kittens peer up at him. They look thin but not sickly, and his first thought is how he might’ve scared their mama off by disrupting the shed.

“Hey, little guys,” he murmurs, crouching down. “Didn’t know the house came with cats. Where’s your mama, huh? She’s coming back, right?”

He tentatively reaches for them and the bigger one hisses and swipes at his hand.

“Okay, buddy. I know—I’m a big scary guy.”

He gets the gardening gloves out of his back pocket, the ones he should’ve been wearing while picking up twigs and broken branches, and slips them on. Then he tries again, scooping up the grumpy little guy and tucking him into his chest.

The kitten growls but slowly relaxes, his natural instinct to fight subsiding the longer Billy holds him, warming him up. He snatches the smaller one, finding it much more amenable to being held, and it even begins purring quietly.

“God, I hope there aren’t more of you…”

After a quick check, shifting the nest covering with the toe of his boot, Billy decides these are the only two to be found. They also look a bit too fancy for strays or barn cats.

“Somebody dump your mom out here when they saw she was expecting? People can be real assholes,” he mutters, cuddling them closer.

Grumpy nuzzles into his open jacket, making Billy chuckle.

“Yeah, okay. Climb on in. It’s cold out here.”

Tucking the two kittens into his jacket as best he can, Billy closes up the shed and heads back into the house.

“Okay, nobody get mad,” he calls, clumsily kicking off his muddy boots. “But I found a couple of interlopers in the shed.”

Joyce meets him first, drying her hands on her apron as she comes out of the kitchen. Her eyes go wide as the two little faces peek out at her, and the littler one meows.

“They’re so sweet,” she coos. “But, uh—” Joyce looks over her shoulder. “Maybe don’t let Jim see them just yet?”

“Maybe don’t let me see who?” Hopper asks, coming downstairs with El behind him. “Did you say we have interlopers? Do I need to get my gun from the safe?”

“What—no,” Billy blurts, his eyes wide.

The kittens mewl, and Hop huffs out a sigh.

“Oh, great. Little flea bags.”

“Jim,” Joyce hisses, giving him a look.

“What? If the kid found them outside, they’re probably riddled with them. Just take ‘em upstairs and we’ll give them a wash. Maybe you can warm up some milk, Joy? They sound hungry.”

“Then… You’re not mad?” Billy asks, unsure.

“Mad?” Hop snorts. “Annoyed, maybe. But I’m not mad.”

Billy grins, then he crouches a little so El can see the kittens in his open jacket. But she doesn’t look excited to see them. Eyes wide, she gives her head a shake and steps behind Hopper.

“They’re just baby cats, El,” Joyce says gently. “There’s no reason to be scared.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she's scared they’ll hurt her, Joyce,” Hop says, wrapping an arm around the girl. “El, it’s okay. They don’t know your history with cats. Besides, you never did anything wrong. Remember?”

Billy glances from Hop and El to Joyce.

“The more little drips and drabs I learn about El’s past, the more I wanna murder somebody,” he admits.

“Luckily, the monster’s already dead,” Hop says, frowning. “Why don’t you go help Joyce in the kitchen, sweetie?”

El nods, taking Joyce’s outstretched hand. Billy watches as they leave, and his chest aches at how El keeps glancing back at him.

“Where’s my sister?” Billy asks as they go upstairs.

“Max is in Will’s room, I think. She didn’t feel like being in the loft right now, I guess. And I don’t blame her. Think she wants to be close to everybody.”

As they reach Will’s bedroom, Billy can hear music filter into the hall. The kid always seems to be playing music, like it helps keep the nightmares away; especially the waking ones.

Billy just might have to buy himself a Walkman so he can always have music with him, too.

He pauses by the open door, smiling softly at Max all curled up in Will’s arms, feeling so comfortable with him. Then he notices Jonathan is with them, sat at the end of the bed, and he takes a step back.

Jonathan lifts his head before the other two, and offers him a smile.

“Hey, Billy. Thanks again for doing all that hard yard work. I finally got all the dishes and stuff sorted in the kitchen,” he says warmly. “But, uh, I think your jacket is moving.”

“You found kittens!” Will cries, lighting up.

“Shut up!” Max breathes, her hands flying up. “Gimme one! Please, Billy?”

Billy looks over at Hopper, who merely shrugs.

“We still need to clean them up, so maybe sit on the floor?” Billy suggests.

“Good idea,” Jonathan laughs. “You really don’t wanna find out they have fleas the hard way.”

Will and Max hurry to sit on the floor, a good enough distance from his bed, and wait for Billy to sit one in each of their laps.

“Careful, this one’s a scrapper,” he muses, handing the bigger kitten to Max. “This one might need a little extra love,” he adds, passing Will the smaller of the two. “Might be a runt.”

“You only found two?” Jonathan asks, pressing in beside his brother. “I guess it’s lucky you found them when you did then,” he remarks when Billy nods.

“Hey, didn’t Henderson say they were looking for a new cat for his mom?” Hopper asks, hopeful.

“Oh, yeah,” Max says brightly. “He’d love to get her a free one. Although, I guess with vet bills and stuff it’s not exactly free.”

“I thought Dustin said she was looking at some already?” Will mumbles. “Can’t we keep them, Hop? They’re so tiny and helpless; and they need each other.”

“We’ll need to ask Mom,” Jonathan interjects, not letting Hop answer. “But it might be nice, though. We haven’t had a pet since old Chester.”

“I think this one’s a girl,” Max says, snorting as the kitten rolls onto its back as she tries to get a closer look under its tail. “Excuse me, madam,” she chides. “But I was only checking if you have little pompoms or something else.”

“We had a cat in New York for a while,” Hopper says, leaning on the wall. “Had to rehome him when my wife got pregnant. Well, we didn’t have to, but she was worried about the guy being around a newborn. Really missed him after he was gone.”

“Billy had a cat once,” Max volunteers. “Didn’t you, Billy?”

“Yeah…” Billy clears his throat. “Neil didn’t let me keep him, though. No surprise there.”

“That sucks,” Will mutters. “But all the more reason we should keep them.”

“I had a very traumatic day, Hop,” Max says, fluttering her lashes up at him. “And if we have your vote, Joyce is bound to let us keep ‘em.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is a trap?” he muses.

“Guess you’re not chief of police for nothing, eh, Hop?” Jonathan teases.

Hopper rolls his eyes fondly.

“Okay, okay. But we do have one concern. El didn’t seem very happy about seeing the kittens, and we have to be respectful of her wishes, too.”

“C’mon, guys,” Billy says, waving them along. “Let’s get them clean and dry so we can get some warm milk in their bellies. Tomorrow we can go into town and get them food and supplies.”

“Will you go outside and look for their mom, Billy?” Will asks, chewing his lower lip. “It’s gonna be cold tonight and she might’ve gone out hunting.”

“Oh, right.” Yeah, he hadn’t considered that. “I’ll go out again after we get these two little ones sorted, okay?”

“I can go with you,” Jonathan offers. “She might be more feral than her babies and spook easily.”

“Good idea.”

“And how about you kids call Dustin anyway,” Hopper says, holding the bathroom door open. “That way we can tell your mom whether or not his mom is still an option to take one off our hands.”

“God, I wish your mom was my mom,” Max grumbles to Will, tucking her kitten under her chin. “Would solve so many problems.”

“Your mom’s just going through a hard time, Max,” Will says softly. “I bet she misses you a whole lot—S’why she’s still fighting for you.”

“Get real,” she snorts. “My mom only wants me back under her roof to prove to the courts that I’m not one of Neil’s casualties. But it’s bullshit. I never wanted him as my step-dad, and certainly don’t want him anywhere near Billy ever again.”

“Just pet the kitten, kid,” Hopper soothes, offering her a kind grin. “Forget about earlier and focus on the now.”

“Thanks, Hop,” she murmurs, giving him a hug with her free arm.

 

After the kittens are cleaned and toweled off, they take them downstairs and offer them some warmed milk. It’ll have to do until they can get to the store in the morning.

Billy goes to find El in her room. She’s sitting on her bed, head bowed, with a Wonder Woman comic in her lap. He knocks on her open door and waits for her to look before talking.

“Hey, El,” he says softly, holding the little kitten burrito tucked to his chest. “Can I come in?”

Her gaze meets his before she looks down at her comic again.

“Max needs you.”

“Max is feeling much better,” he says brightly. “She’s in the kitchen with Will and Jonathan adding kitten duties to the chore chart. You know, so everybody helps out.”

“Oh…”

El doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic as she absently turns the page.

“I guess you don’t like cats, huh?”

She shrugs without glancing up.

Billy steps closer and the kitten tries to wriggle free of the towel, mewling her frustration.

“Or… Do you think they don’t like you?” he asks, carefully taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I guess you didn’t get to be around many pets while you were growing up?”

El shrugs one shoulder, peeking over at him.

“Yeah, me neither. Neil was really strict and I didn’t have a lot of friends. But Joyce says it’s gotta be a family decision to keep them, and you’re part of the family,” Billy says slowly. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, Ellie. But if you don’t want the kitties in the house, then we won’t keep ‘em.”

She looks up at him, her lower lip wobbling.

“But Max and Will want them. I do not want them to be sad.”

“Then, maybe, can you try holding one?” he offers, glancing down at the grumpy kitten in his arms. “I’ll be right here with you.”

El stares at the furry thing squirming to get free and shakes her head.

“What if I just sit her on your bed? If she likes you, she’ll come over and check you out.”

El bites her lip, then closes her comic book and sets it neatly aside.

“Okay, but will you stay and keep her safe?”

“Of course,” he says warmly. “Ready?”

“No,” she mumbles. “But, okay.”

Billy bites back a laugh and sets the kitten on the bed. Now that she’s clean, she and her sister have been revealed to have white fur with patches of brown and grey. The kitten crawls closer to El on wobbly legs, meowing for attention.

The tiny creature brushes against El’s knee, and she flinches, squeezing her eye shut.

“It’s okay,” Billy soothes. “Promise.”

A knock on the door has Billy quickly scooping up the kitten before turning. Expecting Hop or Joyce, his heart skips when Steve meets his gaze, and a big grin spreads across his pretty face.

“Oh, wow—two, huh?” Dustin asks excitedly. “Did ya get to hold her yet?”

Billy hadn’t even seen Henderson, too distracted by the boy behind him.

“Oh, um, not yet,” he stammers, looking at Dustin, tearing his gaze away from Steve. “El’s a bit shy about holding them.”

“That’s okay,” Dustin says, bouncing down onto the bed beside El, like he belongs there. “Can I help?”

El slowly nods, her gaze fixed on Dustin.

“Oh, sure,” Billy says, slightly nervous as he settles the kitten in Dustin’s arms. “I’ll, uh, give you space.”

He backs up from the bed, acutely aware of Steve standing behind him.

“I do not want to hurt her,” El whispers to Dustin.

“You won’t,” he assures her. “These little guys are pretty resilient. I was only five when my mom got Mews—may she rest in peace—and I wasn’t exactly gentle with her.”

“Seriously, Dee?” Steve snorts. “That’s a terrible thing to tell her.”

“What? It’s the truth,” Dustin remarks, waving him off. “Anyway, I think she knows you don’t wanna hold her. See how she’s doing everything she can to get to you? Cats always know.”

“But—why?” El asks, blinking at him.

“Because she wants to be friends,” he says, grinning. “Wants to be safe with you.”

“I make her feel…safe?”

“Sure do,” he murmurs, gently sliding the kitten to rest against her chest. “See—hear that? She’s purring.”

El holds the little fluffball closer and tilts her head to listen.

“Yes, I hear her,” she says, smiling. “It’s so pretty.”

“Cats make that sound when they’re happy and safe.”

“They do?” she asks, petting the kitten’s head with delicate fingers.

“Definitely,” Dustin hums.

“Maybe we should give them a minute,” Steve whispers, his breath hot on the back of Billy’s neck, giving him goosebumps.

“Huh?”

Billy turns his head—a mistake. Suddenly face to face and oh so close, he knows he’s blushing.

“Was saying we should give the kids a few minutes. El really seems to be opening up to Dustin,” Steve explains, nodding towards the stairs.

“Oh, yeah,” Billy mumbles, trying to save whatever dignity he has left. “Good idea.”

Steve offers him a grin and glances at the pair on the bed.

“Looks like Mike better watch out,” he muses quietly. “He might have competition.”

Billy peeks over his shoulder as they start down the loft stairs, catching the way El giggles and leans into Dustin’s side.

“I think they’re just friends,” Billy says easily. “Besides, I don’t think Mike’s the one who should be worried.”

“Oh, no?” Steve stops in the upstairs hall, eyeing him.

Realizing maybe this isn’t something he should joke about with Steve, Billy brushes him off.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Will called Dustin,” he replies, shrugging. “His mom just got her own kitten, so she was too tied up to bring him over. And, I mean, I was over there anyway. Dee wanted me to see his new robot thingy he was working on. I don’t understand half the stuff he makes, but it’s kind of cool to see what his crazy smart brain comes up with, ya know.”

Billy blinks at him, a part of him wishing Steve would just keep talking. He could honestly listen to those rich, dulcet tones for hours, not that he’d ever say as much out loud.

“Oh, uh, cool,” he says, a little lost for words. “So, uh, you want the tour?”

“Maybe you should change first?” Steve remarks, staring at Billy’s chest.

Confused, Billy looks down. The front of his shirt is pretty wet from washing the kittens and wrangling them to get them as dry as possible.

“Don’t wanna catch a chill,” Steve adds, shivering.

“Oh, right. Well, we can start with my room, then,” he says, trying his best to act normally.

“Great—and I won’t judge if it’s still a mess. I know you guys only moved in a week ago.”

“Thanks,” he snorts.

Steve ducks his head and moves to the window, sitting on the built-in bench and taking in the small room.

“Huh…”

Billy snorts again, tugging his long-sleeved shirt over his head and tossing it in the corner.

“It’s small, I know,” he retorts. “But I like it.”

Steve doesn’t say anything as Billy opens a dresser drawer and grabs a clean shirt. He doesn’t have a closet, exactly, only a set of shelves inset to the wall.

Once he’s dressed, Billy turns back to Steve, and Steve snaps his head towards the window, pretending to enjoy the view.

“Wow, you can see the water from here. Nice. I mean, I can see why you picked this room, even though it’s kinda…”

Billy sits at the end of the bed, his knee bumping Steve’s and making him flinch.

“Kinda what, pretty boy?” Billy needles, smirking.

Steve’s gaze flits all over the place, like he can’t decide where to look.

“Ah, little,” Steve says at last, choking on a laugh.

“You nervous, Harrington?”

Billy nudges his knee with his own, finding Steve fucking adorable when he squirms. Then he frowns, realizing it isn’t because they’re alone, and touching, but because of something else.

“Was it my back?” Billy asks, chewing his lip. “Should I have warned you? I mean, you were there when it happened, I didn’t really think you needed to be reminded not to look.”

“No—it’s fine. It doesn’t…” Another strained chuckle squeezes from Steve’s chest. “It actually looks pretty good; you're back. Like, it’s healing really well. I just… Sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

Billy opens his mouth to try and smooth things over, but another voice carries upstairs, making things even worse.

“Oh, my God—so cute! Jonathan—lemme hold her! Pleeease?”

Steve turns his gaze back out the window, or he might be staring at the frame, it’s hard to tell. His playful light has definitely dimmed, though.

“Yeah, she’s here a lot,” Billy sighs. “Another thing I maybe shoulda warned you about. Sorry, I guess I’m a shitty friend."

“What? No you’re not,” Steve says, snorting. “But—wait. Did you just call us friends?”

“Uh, yeah? Was that wrong?”

Steve gets to his feet, almost bumping his head on the sloped ceiling.

“I think maybe we should go on that little tour,” he says, grinning. “What do ya say, pal?”

“God, you’re gonna make this into a thing, aren’t you?” Billy drawls, though one corner of his mouth is upturned.

“I’ll try not to, but I’m kinda gonna.”

Billy rolls his eyes and huffs out a sigh.

“Okay, fine. Follow me.”

{~~~~~}

Billy leads him downstairs. They grab their jackets and head out the side door which leads onto the porch, avoiding Nancy in the kitchen.

“I can show you the inside later,” Billy says, glancing at the kitchen window. “Maybe after Jonny takes Nance down to his room.”

Steve arches an eyebrow, feeling kind of happy for the guy.

“Must be nice for him, a whole space of his own.”

“I think Hop and Joyce enjoy the deniability it gives them,” he muses, snorting. “But, yeah. Besides, the basement is huge. Will’s already setting up his own gaming space for whenever the guys come over. He was explaining the whole D&D thing to me and I have to admit, it doesn’t sound as dorky as I thought.”

“Must be ‘cause you’re really a nerd,” Steve teases, flashing one of his charming grins.

“Shut up,” Billy laughs, nudging Steve’s foot with his own. “Anyway, I told Max and Will I’d have a look around for the mama cat. So, this might end up being less of a tour and more of a search party.”

“Hey, works for me,” Steve says easily, zipping his sport jacket up to his neck. “I love an adventure.”

“Hm, not sure this is gonna be all that thrilling.”

Steve shrugs, finding being around Billy for this long enough of a thrill on its own.

“That’s fine. It’s still better than chancing a run-in with my ex and having to make small talk, or whatever.”

Billy grins and moves to hold the screened door open.

“Well, then. After you, Steve.”

Steve beams and trots towards his car, remembering something, making Billy pull a sudden u-turn.

“What’re you doing?”

“If we’re gonna catch the little lady, we might need a blanket and some bait,” he says wryly, popping open his trunk. “Luckily, I have both.”

Billy snorts, his hand shoving into his pockets.

“You realize we just came out of the house, right? Where we have all those kinds of things.”

Steve arches an eyebrow, throwing him a clever grin.

“Yeah, but if we use my stuff we don’t have to go back inside.”

“Right—mission avoid Wheeler at all costs,” he hums, chuckling.

“Exactly,” Steve snorts.

He reaches down, picking up the picnic blanket stashed behind his gym back, and he uncovers the handle of his baseball bat; and some of the rusty nails at the base.

“What’s that?”

“Um, what?” Steve tosses his bag over it. “Oh, just my trusty bat. You gotta be prepared around here. Especially after all that crazy shit that went down in the woods around that lab.”

“Uh huh…”

Yeah, Billy really doesn’t seem to be buying it. So, Steve laughs him off.

“Dude, it’s just a bat.”

“With fuckin’ nails hammered into it,” Billy says bluntly. “You know, like the one Max threatened me with.”

“Oh, yeah. Henderson told me about that. Sorry I missed it, being unconscious and all, at the time.”

He grabs an old bag of chips and turns around to find Billy scowling.

“Aw, c’mon,” he says innocently, hugging the blanket. “What—too soon to laugh about it? I mean, she was never gonna actually hurt you.”

The dark cloud hovering over Billy only gets darker.

“Why do you even have a bat like that?” he huffs.

“Because… Dangerous wooded areas… And, um, bears?”

“Whatever,” Billy mutters, swivelling on his heel.

“Hey, wait up!” He calls, shutting his trunk and chasing after him.

“I guess I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore,” Billy grumbles as Steve catches up. “It feels like anybody in that house probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill somebody if they thought one of their kids was in danger. Honestly, I wish Hop would’ve shot Neil dead.”

“Yeah, but they won’t. Kill—I mean. ‘Cause they’re not bad people, Billy. And, frankly, the bat wasn’t mine originally. I guess it’s the one thing I got to keep in our breakup. Which is odd ‘cause I think it was Jonathan’s bat.”

“What?”

Steve almost slams into Billy’s chest, he didn’t even see him stop; or turn around.

“Yeah, ah… Long story.”

“Everything is a long fucking story,” Billy mutters, his arms thrown wide. “I just wish somebody would actually tell me what the fuck is going on. Like who the Hell made El torture cats, and who actually kidnapped Will, and what really happened to that girl Nancy knew.”

“Okay, well, didn’t Hop explain it to you?” Steve tries, crinkling the bag of chips. “It’s all about that lab. See, the night El escaped—”

“From that National Lab Will was being treated at?” Billy interrupts, his brows knitting together.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, his voice cracking. “Shitty, I know. But… God, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“Please—tell me,” he says pleadingly. “I don’t think I can take much more of being in the dark all the time. I appreciate everything Hop and Joyce are doing, but I’m starting to feel a little unhinged.”

Steve leans in and lowers his voice, even though they’re deep in the trees by now.

“Haven’t you ever seen El, like, do stuff? Like, without physically moving?”

Billy gives him that crazy, confused look he had the night he lied about not seeing Max.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Wait—Hopper never told you about El?”

“He said she’s special and can’t go to school because nobody can know about her yet,” Billy says, shrugging one shoulder. “That she was locked in some psycho’s basement for most of her life; which now I’m thinking was actually a lab. But, no, Steve. Nobody tells me shit, and I haven’t seen her do anything weird.”

“Okay, well, you can’t tell them I told you this but…” Steve swallows and meets his gaze, trying his best not to get distracted by how long and thick Billy’s lashes are close up. “El can move things with her mind. Like levitate stuff and make lights come on. That kind of thing.”

“Lights…?”

Billy bites his bottom lip and glances over his shoulder, and Steve gets ready for the guy to laugh in his face.

“What about radios?” Billy adds, voice whisper-soft. “Can she manipulate anything that works with electricity?”

“I mean, I guess so?”

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath and charges into the woods.

“Whoa, hang on—what’s wrong?”

“Ellie didn’t like the kittens being in the house. Maybe she didn’t like me in her house either. God, I feel like such an idiot. Seriously thought I was losing my fucking mind—that my dumb ass was being haunted. And they all just patted my naïve head and told me it was all gonna be okay.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve calls after him, jogging to keep up. “Hey, slow down. Billy—nobody’s playing you. El wouldn’t do that kind of thing. Okay, yeah, maybe she would… But she likes you, I think. And Hop and Mrs Byers wouldn’t let her do anything so mean. Besides, she knows you’re helping Will— been helping him feel safer. Please, Billy…”

Billy stops again, but he keeps his back turned and his hands fisted at his sides.

“What else aren’t they telling me, huh? What killed Nancy’s friend? Who killed Bob Newby?”

“It was this thing. This creature that escaped from the lab the same night as El. That’s what I was gonna tell you. It’s why I have that bat in my trunk. It’s gone; the creature. But I keep the bat so I can feel safe, okay?”

“That’s insane,” Billy cries, spinning to face him. “You’re telling me the government created some kind of killer monster in the backwoods of your sleepy little town?”

“Uh… Something like that,” he winces.

Billy glares at him, and Steve loses all control of his senses.

“Okay—fine. El has these superpowers, right? And the evil scientist guy who kept her locked away? He forced her to reach out with her mind, or some shit, looking for I don’t know who, and she accidently found one of those monsters. Only, they aren’t from Hawkins. They aren’t even from our dimension. She literally ripped a hole in reality when the thing scared her half to death.”

Steve pauses to take a deep breath, his chest heaving from talking so fast.

“That’s it,” he pants. “That’s what happened. And then we learned that that rip was never fixed. So, over the next year, it only ever got bigger. And something in that other dimension was controlling this creature—and now there were more. And it was, ah, controlling Will, too. That’s what took Will back in ‘83; what killed Barb; and what ultimately killed Bob. It’s this big fucking secret we’ve all been sworn to keep. And l’m talking legally. We could all go to prison. But don’t worry about monsters. El closed that gate for good and Will got that other-dimension-baddie exorcized outta him just in time, so it’s gone too.”

“But it’s not,” Billy says after a second, his gaze far away.

“What do you mean? What’s not?”

“If El’s not manipulating the radio and the lights, and making me see things… Then that shadow I’ve been seeing…”

“What shadow?” Steve can feel his heart stop.

“Nevermind,” Billy sighs, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Forget it.”

Steve can’t help getting flashes of Tommy. How he lost his shit and made Steve shove him away. But he never could’ve shared this shit with Tommy. The guy never would’ve believed him. Somehow Billy believes him, though, and Steve doesn’t want to lose whatever it is they only just started building together.

“No, no…” Steve begs. “Please, Billy. Tell me what you mean.”

Billy huffs out a sigh, some of his frustration bleeding out of him into the fallen leaves on the ground. He meets Steve’s gaze, his blue eyes almost grey in the shadows of the forest; stormy.

“Will thinks it’s real; this shadowy figure that’s been haunting me. It’s not all the time. Only every now and then. And it’s been much better since we moved, although that could just be because we’ve been so busy. Anyway, I know it scares him. And I sort of promised I’d tell him if I ever saw it—him. Like really see it. But… I can’t. I just can’t tell him…”

Steve chews on this for a few seconds, wondering why Billy, of all people, could be haunted like this. Why Will’s shadow would pick him. But maybe it’s not that hard to grasp. Billy was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he isn’t actually as strong and capable as he might seem to most people. After learning how Neil was treating him, it almost makes a sick kind of sense, really.

“Did you see it at school? The day after you came back; when Buckley asked you for her notes?”

Billy jerks his head up, locking eyes.

“What?”

“When I found you all spaced out, staring at the floor in front of your gym locker, remember?”

“Oh…” Billy squeezes his eyes shut and presses the heels of his hands into the sockets. “Yeah, maybe. I… I don’t really remember. I think I just didn’t wanna deal with the guys on the team. But… There was definitely a dark commentary running in my head.”

Steve takes a chance and steps closer, tilting his head to catch Billy’s gaze when he opens his eyes again, offering him a gentle grin.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” Billy asks softly. “How sometimes I hate my life—hate myself? I mean, doesn’t everybody?”

It feels like the air just got a whole lot thinner, and Steve struggles to take his next breath.

“Yeah, but… It’s getting better, right? We all have dark moments, but… You feel less alone now, right?”

“Sure,” Billy snorts. “Got out from under Neil’s roof so I could come live with a bunch of traumatized crazy people who’ve faced literal monsters from a Hell dimension they never thought to mention. We’re all just a bunch of peas in the same fucked up pod. But, uh, thanks. At least now I know why there was a syringe full of fuckin’ horse tranquilizer laying around for Max to use on me.”

Steve’s chest aches, and he wishes he could give the guy a hug without it feeling wrong somehow.

“Billy…”

“It’s fine,” he says, a weak grin forced onto his lips. “I’m fine. What would help is if you and Hopper would stop acting like I might break at any moment. ‘Cause I think I’m beyond my breaking point already; and I’m still kicking.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Steve admits easily, following as Billy starts walking. “Although, I guess my measurement of tolerance is probably quite a bit lower than yours.”

“Not a competition, pretty boy,” Billy throws over his shoulder.

Steve laughs as he catches the teasing edge in his tone.

“I know,” he hums. “But still.”

They come out by the lake, the sun already starting to set. The rays bounce off the still water and give Billy’s curls a golden glow, making Steve’s breath catch.

“Gorgeous,” he hums.

“Yeah, it’s quite the view,” Billy murmurs, shielding his eyes as he looks out over the water. “I gotta say, Hop has good taste.”

Steve can feel his cheeks burn, though he’s relieved that Billy didn’t realize he was the view Steve was admiring.

“Wanna sit for a few minutes?” he offers, holding the blanket higher.

Billy tilts his head, seemingly unsure.

“It’ll be dark soon, and I promised the kids I’d try to find that cat.”

“C’mon, Bee. Just a few minutes?”

He shakes his head and huffs out a laugh.

“Okay, Steve. Sure. Just a few.”

Steve grins and flaps out the picnic blanket, smoothing it out for them. He waits, like a gentleman, for Billy to sit first. Billy chuckles at him, but Steve doesn’t mind. He wants to enjoy this moment of making a new friend. A friend old enough to know what it’s like to feel responsible for these kids, and doesn’t spit in his face when he tries to do the right thing.

‘Yeah, a friend,’ Steve thinks absently as Billy lets his eyes fall shut as the last embers of the setting sun warm his face.

“Hey, I kind of noticed you aren’t dating around anymore.”

It takes Billy a second or two to open his eyes and look at him.

“Um, yeah. My life’s been kind of chaotic,” he mumbles. “Not really in the mood to be dating bimbos who only care about my looks and my car. Why do you care?”

“No reason,” Steve retorts, shrugging. “It’s just something I noticed.”

“Well, you’ve been broken up with Wheeler for almost a month. When is the great King Steve gonna get back on that old horse?”

A laugh bubbles up from his chest and, to his delight, Billy laughs as well.

“Yeah, I dunno about that.”

“Right,” Billy adds softly. “You were in love with the girl. I guess that takes longer to get over, huh?”

“What—you’ve never been in love, Billy?”

Steve bumps shoulders with him, but Billy doesn’t laugh this time.

“I mean, I thought I was, once,” he admits, playing with the cuff on his jacket sleeve. “Guess they didn’t feel the same way.”

“Sucks,” Steve sighs, a pain panging through his heart. “When we love them more than they love us.”

“Yeah, it really does,” Billy murmurs.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of the water and birds chirping in the crisp evening air soothing.

“Hey, um,” Billy asks, drawing his attention. “You didn’t, you know, fuck Wheeler on this blanket, did you?”

Steve looks down at the red flannel fabric and frowns.

“I mean, I washed it,” he replies, snorting.

Billy throws him an indignant look.

“What?” Steve squawks.

“Maybe get a new blanket before you invite your next date to sit—or lay—down on this reminder of your previous, failed romance. Like, maybe even burn this thing.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s just a blanket,” Steve chuckles.

Even as he laughs Billy off, he can’t help but wonder about his phrasing. Does Billy think this counts as a date? Because why else would he say ‘your next’ date? No, Steve must be imagining things. The guy must’ve meant next after Nancy—right?

“Whatever, just trying to give you some friendly advice.”

“Yeah, okay, Romeo. And what about you, huh? How many girls did you have in your backseat that first week in Hawkins?”

“I dunno, like, four?”

Billy says this so casually that Steve thinks he’s having a stroke.

“Four,” he squeaks.

“Holloway woulda been five, but Max ran off with you and the boys, so. Yeah. Four girls.” Billy raises a hand to count them off on his fingers. “Vickie, Nichole, Brenda, and Tina. Though, to be fair, I also had Tina in her bedroom at her party. And Carol had her tongue down my throat after too much punch. Was actually pretty gross, especially after I realized Tommy was watching us. But, all in all, I guess I didn’t do too badly.”

Steve gapes at him, his jaw in his lap.

“Hey, you asked, Stevie” Billy laughs, patting his shoulder like an athlete would do after a game to his losing opponent.

“And I wish I hadn’t, trust me,” he groans.

“It doesn’t matter. They all despise me now. But I guess that’s what you get when you give a girl what the immature hometown boys won’t—or can’t,” he says, snorting.

“What does that mean?” Billy arches an eyebrow at him. “Okay, yes, I know I’ll probably regret asking this, too. But—just tell me.”

“It means I never had sex with them,” he remarks, grinning. “I just made sure they had a good time, if you know what I mean.”

“So… You just…?”

Billy waves his hand at him, then twiddles his fingers.

“Yup.”

“Huh…”

Once again, Steve’s at a loss for words. Learning his former rival was an expert at handjobs and fingering was definitely not what he was expecting.

“Most women don’t achieve orgasm from actual sex,” Billy says easily, gazing out at the water. “It’s a fact.”

“Most women in this town probably don’t know what an orgasm even feels like,” Steve finds himself saying aloud.

“That I’d believe,” he snorts. “I hope Wheeler knows, though.”

“Are you kidding?” Steve huffs out a laugh. “There are moments when I think that’s the only reason she stayed with me for so long. But then we weren’t even doing that anymore…”

“Sorry, I know it’s a sore subject. But we are sitting on her fuck-blanket, so it’s difficult not to include her in the conversation.”

“Asshole,” Steve snipes, though he’s laughing.

“Sorry, but it’s true,” Billy chuckles.

“Maybe I just need to re-christen it. That’s a thing, right?”

“I mean, why not? Just grab somebody, throw ‘em down and rub all over each other like cats in heat.”

Something comes over him then, and Steve throws Billy a very suggestive grin.

“Oh, you couldn’t handle it, Stevie,” Billy teases. “I’d ruin you.”

For half a second, Steve considers those odds and seriously thinks about throwing himself at the other boy. But then what? What if this really is just a taunt, like he was telling Dustin. Just two idiot guys goofing around and trying to get a rise out of each other. Kissing Billy right then and now, might destroy their fragile little friendship.

And Steve really wants Billy to be his friend.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, you just admitted to kissing Perkins. No way I want my lips anywhere near yours.”

“Fuck off!” Billy cries, laughing breathlessly as he shoves him in the shoulder.

“I’m serious—she’s like a little gremlin. And you know she’s had that mouth on Tommy H.”

“Stop—it’s not like I wanted to kiss her. She’s tiny. I was sitting on the couch and she just climbed into my lap, took me by surprise, like a rabid coyote.”

They’re both laughing so hard that they’re now wheezing with tears in their eyes. They both fall backwards, pressing their backs into the blanket, and stare up at the cloudy sky.

Where the sun has dipped down past the horizon, thick, gray clouds have moved in. As they lie there, side by side, chests heaving, white flakes begin to dance in the air, coming to rest on their clothes and their lashes.

“It’s snowing,” Steve hums. “Would ya look at that?”

He turns his head, a grin plastered on his face, and finds Billy’s gaze still heaven bound. His flushed cheeks make his freckles more pronounced, and his blue eyes sparkle with an almost childlike wonder.

“Yeah,” Billy breathes. “Never seen snow before.”

Steve rolls onto his side, edging up on one elbow.

“Never?” he repeats, amused.

Billy simply shakes his head. Then he slowly turns his gaze to meet Steve’s own, and that strange pull starts to take over him again. Before he even knows what’s happening, Steve feels a hot mouth close over his own, and a strong grip on the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips are as soft as any girl’s but taste almost sweeter.

The kiss is so fast—too fast, and suddenly Billy is on his feet.

“C’mon, we don’t wanna freeze to death out here,” he says, stomping his feet to encourage blood circulation. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

“Billy…” Steve climbs to his feet, almost too afraid to ask. “What was that?”

“Just fixing your blanket problem,” he says, walking towards the house. “Don’t make a big deal or anything.”

Sure, because that’s what friends do. Only it isn’t, and Steve’s pretty sure Billy knows that, even if he hasn’t had that many friends.

But Steve decides not to press the issue. He gathers the blanket up and shakes off the grass and leaves. Then he notices the bag of chips is gone, and Billy’s eating them.

And this only makes him like the jerk more.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls. “I don't know my way around, remember? Unless you want me getting lost in the woods?”

“Hurry up, Stevie,” Billy huffs, stopping to wait for him, and acting like it’s a huge inconvenience, even though he’s grinning. “Let’s go!”

“Hey, you know this place is called Lover’s Lake, right?” Steve taunts as he reaches him, wagging his brows.

“Great, you can bring your lover up here, weirdo,” he snorts.

“Yeah, I think I might,” Steve muses, much to Billy’s annoyance.

Of course, maybe Steve just did, they just aren’t ready to admit it.

Either of them.

 

…

Chapter Text

They never find the mother cat, but Billy isn’t thinking about her anymore. The only thought in his head is about how soft Steve Harrington’s lips were on his own; and how stupid he was to kiss him.

Billy can’t even bring himself to look at the guy now. Sure, he checks over his shoulder to make sure Steve hasn’t gotten too far behind, but he doesn’t risk making eye contact.

“It’s really coming down now,” Steve says, laughing.

And when Billy glances over his shoulder, he finds Steve has stopped walking. Arms spread with the blanket draped over his shoulder, and head tilted back, Steve opens his grinning mouth and sticks out his tongue; catching snowflakes.

Another carefree laugh causes a wonderful warmth to pool low in Billy’s belly. Steve looks so childlike and innocent—but he still can’t help wanting to tackle him to the ground and rip all his clothes off.

‘Pervert,” a dark voice hisses in the back of his mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy shakes himself, dusting snow off his jacket, and pretending his inner demons aren’t acting up.

“Nothing,” he huffs. “But could ya stop dragging your feet? We’re almost back at the house.”

“Um, okay…” Steve mumbles, crestfallen, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. “Sorry. I just thought…”

“Thought what?” Billy mutters, hating himself for letting his shame turn to spite.

Steve blinks at him with big doe eyes, his skin looking as pale as porcelain against his dark hair and the thicket of trees behind him. He looks almost angelic—perfect.

“Fucking forget it,” Billy grumbles, flipping up the collar on his jacket and walking closer to the house. “Let’s just get inside before I get frostbite, or something.”

“Hey, wait a sec,” Steve calls, jogging over to him by the shed.

Billy tries to look anywhere but directly into his eyes, but Steve keeps tilting his head, craving contact; like the cat who knows Billy wants nothing to do with him. Then, like a cat—or maybe a needy pup—Steve presses in closer.

As Billy keeps his gaze on Steve’s pretty lips, he feels the heavy blanket fall over his shoulders. Steve beams, grinning from ear to ear, as he pulls it tighter at Billy’s chest.

“There,” he hums. “Better?”

It’s happening again; that touch-starved part of him taking over.

Suddenly their mouths crash together in a clash of tongues and teeth. This kiss is much messier, desperate, and Billy’s hands fist the front of Steve’s sports jacket, anchoring him in place.

One of Steve’s hands finds its way to cupping Billy’s jaw while the other grips his hip. The salt from the stolen chips mixes with the hint of something fresh, possibly a breath-mint if the lingering scent of nicotine on Steve’s clothes is anything to go by.

When he tries to pull away, the warnings going off in his brain louder than his unbidden desire, Steve doesn’t fully disengage. He presses Billy’s back into the outer wall of the shed and dips to nip at Billy’s jawline, then nuzzles beneath, mouthing at his neck.

And, God, it feels good.

“No—stop…” Billy whines, his fingers still curled into Steve’s jacket. “—shouldn’t,” he mumbles pathetically.

Steve pauses, lifting his head a fraction to glance down at the death grip on his jacket before meeting Billy’s gaze.

“I’ll stop if you want, Bee” he says, voice low and full of heat. “But you need to let me go.”

Billy knows he needs to let go, he just can’t seem to get his hands to respond.

“But do you want me to?” Steve adds when Billy fails to move, to speak, maybe even to breathe.

“What?” Billy whispers, already leaning back in, as if drawn by a magnetic force he has no control over.

Steve grins against his lips, then consumes his mouth in another fiery kiss. Billy can feel it all the way down to his toes, and when his hands finally move they don’t push Steve away. They snake around the plains of his back instead, pressing their bodies even closer, if such a thing is even possible.

“Billy—Steve?”

Steve jumps back, or tries to with Billy’s arms so tight around him.

“Billy, where are you?” Joyce calls from the porch. “It’s getting dark, honey. You and Steve should come inside.”

“Must feel good,” Steve murmurs, slowly guiding Billy’s arms and hands back to him. “Having a mom in your life again; a mom who worries.”

He sounds a bit envious, or maybe a little sad, but Steve’s right. It is nice. So goddamn nice Billy wants to cry, thanks for asking.

“Yeah, it is,” he mumbles, swallowing a wave of overwhelming longing. “But… We can’t—do this. I mean, I know you well enough by now, Harrington.”

Steve’s brows knit together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re coming, Joyce!” Billy calls back, making Steve flinch as he shouts too close to his head.

While Steve is still dealing with the ringing in his ears, Billy takes the opportunity to squirm away. He reaches the porch steps, Joyce smiling brightly from the front door, before Steve rushes after him. Billy tries to ignore him, and the dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Wait—what do you mean?”

“Dinner’s almost ready, boys. I hope you’ll join us, Steve,” Joyce hums. Then she must catch the way they’re looking at each other because she adds, “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Billy says before Steve can get a word in. “But we didn’t find her; the mama cat. And, we, ah, don’t want the kids to be disappointed.”

“Right,” Steve says slowly. “It’s a bummer.”

“Okay, well, come in the house,” Joyce insists, moving aside. “I’m sure they’ll understand. Besides, now that we have some snow, maybe we can find her tracks.”

Billy returns her offered smile and ducks inside. Only as he takes off his boots, he can feel Steve lingering behind him.

“I should probably go,” he says quietly. “The roads are gonna get bad, and I imagine Dustin will just sleepover since it’s Friday.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Joyce says kindly. “Right, Billy?”

“Um, yeah,” he says, hoping he sounds less freaked out than he feels. “Sure.”

“Great, I’ll tell El to set another plate at the table. We’re having spaghetti, so there’s enough to go around. I never thought we’d need to use the big dining room table, but here we are. First week here and having all our kid’s friends over.”

Billy grins at how delighted she seems. Then Joyce surprises him, leaning up to cup his chilled cheek and press a kiss to his other one.

“Mm, maybe come and sit by the fire first and warm up.”

“Sure, Joyce,” he replies, biting back a groan.

Because sitting by a roaring fire after their little moment by the lake is exactly what’s gonna give Steve the wrong idea. Billy’s many things but he isn’t romantic. Steve, however, definitely is.

“I don’t have to stay,” Steve whispers after Joyce leaves the foyer.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, turning his back and heading to the living room.

Billy doesn’t notice when Steve follows him, his gaze on the windows beyond the fireplace, and the falling snow. It’s like something out of an old Hollywood movie, and he can almost hear the swell of violins in his head.

Yeah, he’s screwed.

Steve tugs on his wrist, guiding him closer to the fireplace. He smiles, cheeks rosy, and brings Billy to sit beside him on the couch.

“C’mon, Billy,” he murmurs, giving his hand a squeeze. “Talk to me.”

“I’m not one of your girls,” Billy mutters, pulling his hand away. “Look—it was stupid. I honestly expected you to get mad, maybe even hit me, or just run away.”

“But I’m still here,” Steve says, tilting his head. “And that freaks you out, doesn’t it?”

Billy blinks, a little annoyed at being called out.

“Have you ever even kissed a guy before?” he asks, voice low.

“On a dare,” Steve snorts. “But it was nothing like this. Kissing you is… Really good. Special. I never would’ve guessed you like boys. Although, thinking back, I guess there were signs. You know, other than the hateful things Neil called you. Because you’re not horrible, Billy. Not really. You look out for Max, and rescue kittens, and secretly make friends with band geeks. Then there’s everything you’ve been doing to help Joyce and Hop, and their kids, even when you didn’t have to.”

“Stop…” Billy mumbles, his eyes squeezing shut. “Please…”

Steve reaches to tuck a curl behind Billy’s ear, making him meet his eye, and Billy has to fight the urge to throw himself on top of him.

“You’ve probably had all this love trapped inside of you for years, and nobody to give it to. Kinda breaks my heart,” he says softly, his hand lingering on Billy’s shoulder. “Probably felt like you didn’t deserve to be loved either, which makes me angry for you. Because you do, Billy. You deserve everything you’ve been denied.”

“Still not one of your girls, Steve,” Billy chokes out, hating himself for wanting him so badly. “Kissing’s one thing, but I’m a guy, and you’re a guy…”

Billy trails off as Steve’s hand moves lower. At first he thinks Steve’s just being dopey and pressing his palm over his heart in some dumb romantic gesture. Then Billy feels his fingers flex against his chest, gently squeezing.

“Are you… Feeling me up right now?”

“Huh?”

Steve slowly drags his gaze up to meet him. Then, when Billy squints at him, Steve suddenly blushes.

“Um, sorry?” Steve squeaks, snapping his hand away. “I just…” He clears his throat, his face going redder. “I’ve been wanting to know what they feel like, like, for a while.”

“You’ve got tits too, pretty boy,” Billy hisses, though a grin fights its way onto his mouth. “Jesus—what’s wrong with you?” he chuckles.

“Sorry,” Steve groans, meaning it this time. “You’re just so fucking hot. I guess that kiss—or those multiple kisses—might’ve set something off in me. I just… Fuck—don’t you wanna just…?”

“You have no idea,” he whimpers, his hand moving to rest on Steve’s thigh, giving the meat of it a squeeze.

Steve tries to shift closer, making Billy’s hand slide further up his thigh…

“Dinners on the table, losers,” Max says, leaning in the archway, smirking. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she adds, sounding honestly concerned. “Did I interrupt something? ‘Cause I can make up an excuse for you guys and give you a couple of minutes.”

“No—no,” Steve croaks, his head snapping up to her. “It’s, ah, fine. Right, Bee?”

“Yeah, I’m suddenly starving, actually,” Billy says, clearing his throat. “I just hope Stevie doesn’t have to sit too close to Nancy.”

Steve gives them an ‘oh shit’ look, and Max laughs.

“Nah, you can sit between Hop and El,” she chirps. “C’mon, before Hopper takes seconds and leaves us none.”

“I heard that,” Hop calls from the next room.

“And she is not wrong,” El giggles.

“Hey, we’re good, right?” Steve asks as they stand, his hand on Billy’s arm.

Billy glances down at Steve’s hand before nodding.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we’ll figure this out as we go.”

“Good,” he hums, grinning. “Great, actually.”

Billy snorts.

“I only have one condition. Well, two, actually.”

Steve nods eagerly.

“Sure thing. What’re your conditions?”

“First—nobody can know. Not at first. Not even Henderson or Max. Not until we’ve figured out whatever this is. Got it?” When Steve nods he continues. “Second—I’m not your rebound after Wheeler. If that’s what you’re after, go fuck some girl.”

“Fine, as long as I’m not you’re rebound, either,” Steve says primly, his head high.

“Okay; deal,” he laughs.

Besides, Billy isn’t really that sure he was ever in love with Alex. He was only his first crush, though a crush that led to something more substantial; physical.

Firsts are always hard to get over, though. And, judging by the way Steve ducks behind Max and Lucas, he can tell that Steve’s definitely still not over his.

{~~~~~}

Steve settles between El and Hopper at the table. Joyce grins sweetly as she sets down a plate in front of him. He braces himself after all the stories he’s heard about Joyce’s cooking but, when he looks down and the tantalizing aroma wafts over him, he can tell instantly that this is no store bought sauce.

“This looks amazing, Joyce. Did you slave all day on this?”

“Not me,” she muses, throwing a grin in Billy’s direction.

Steve arches a skeptical eyebrow and fills his fork with a mouthful of spaghetti, taking a big bite. He hums, his lashes fluttering shut, and moans his approval; the sound almost sexual.

“You good, Harrington?” Hopper asks, giving him a blank look.

“Yeah, so good,” he mumbles. “You really made this, Billy?”

“Just something I threw together before the move. It’s been in the freezer,” he responds, cheeks pink. “S’better fresh.”

“Billy’s actually a really good cook,” Max boasts, sipping from her glass. “He sort of was the only person preparing meals in his house before my mom took over. Even then, his food somehow tasted better than hers.”

“That’s not true, sh—Max,” Billy mutters, a red flush climbing his neck. “I’m only good at making basic stuff. Nothing complicated.”

“Basic’s good,” Hop remarks, chuckling.

“Yeah, it’s been nice having somebody capable in our kitchen for once,” Jonathan jokes.

“Jonathan,” Nancy hisses, knocking his ribs with her elbow.

“It’s okay,” Joyce laughs. “He’s kind of right. We try but we never have enough time, and none of us is a very good cook.”

“I’ve never had a problem,” Will says, smiling. “I like your cooking, Mom.”

Steve smiles, filling up with a joy that he’s been missing, as he watches the way each of the Byers look at each other with so much love. Then he takes another bite, imagining how much care Billy must’ve put into making his sauce—for them.

“It is much better than Hop’s freezer food,” El hums, taking a big bite. “Thank you, Billy.”

“Kind of reminds me of our mom’s recipe,” Nancy says, glancing at her brother.

“Yeah, Karen’s cooking is the best,” Steve remarks easily, noticing hints of cinnamon. “But this might actually top hers.”

“Okay, enough,” Mike drawls, snorting. “You might actually make the poor guy self-combust. It’s only spaghetti, for pity’s sake.”

“Mike,” Will grumbles. “Don’t tease.”

Mike grins, glancing shyly at Will, and, miraculously, he doesn’t argue.

“I, uh, didn’t realize everybody was coming over,” Billy says humbly. “I really hope there’s enough.”

“There’s plenty, kid,” Hop says, stealing a piece of garlic bread from the basket. “You’ve really spoiled us.”

Billy bashfully smiles and returns to eating.

“Well, I wanted to come over to see how Max was doing,” Lucas says, pressing his shoulder to hers. “And when I heard Mike was hitching a ride with Nancy, I kind of invited myself along.”

“Yes, Mike is always coming over to see Will,” El says, pursing her lips. “But I enjoyed spending time with you, Dustin. Maybe we can do more things together? And you can teach me more about cats?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dustin says, a little distracted when El flutters her lashes at him. “Um, sure. I mean, if Mike’s okay with it.”

Steve snorts and takes another bite of food, amused at El’s not so subtle flirting.

“Why should that matter?” Max interjects, annoyed. “El’s her own person and, last I checked, so are you.”

“Yeah, El’s super safe now, Dustin,” Mike adds, giving him a funny look. “Hopper even said they have, like, official adoption papers for her and everything. So, you should hang out, if you want. Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to make sure she stayed protected.”

“Sounds like a green light to me,” Lucas says, nudging Dustin’s foot under the table.

Steve catches the way his little buddy jolts and flashes Lucas a threatening look.

“But…” El’s gaze falls to her plate. “You do not have to spend time with me, if you do not want to.”

“What? No. I mean, yes,” Dustin sputters. “I’d like to hang out some more. I mean, tonight we’re all gonna sleep up in your loft and watch movies, right?”

“Yes,” she says quietly, moving her noodles around her plate.

“You know,” Jonathan says brightly. “I was really worried that maybe I’d ruined the little friendship I had with Steve. It was never much, or something we ever really talked about, but he’s a good guy and I’d be stupid not to wanna stay friends. And I know this has been hard for him; helping us at the house after everything, and being at dinner with me and Nancy, and all. But I’m glad you stayed, Steve. Glad that, maybe, we can still be friends; the three of us.”

“Yeah, I’d like that too,” Nancy adds when Steve looks over, meeting her gaze. “We’ve been through too much to just let each other go completely.”

She offers him a soft smile, one that matches Jonathan’s own, and Steve finds himself smiling back. Then he tilts his head to Billy, and his stomach does one of its funny flips—and his heart flutters.

“Good,” Steve murmurs, a little overwhelmed. “‘Cause this is the most I’ve felt like I had a real family in a long time, and I’m not exactly ready to give that up. Even if that means watching the pair of you fall more and more in love.”

“That’s so sweet,” Joyce coos.

“It’s gross,” Mike mumbles, scrunching his nose.

“You won’t think it’s gross when you fall in love, kid,” Hopper teases.

Mike knits his brows together, glancing at Will. He then hides his face in his napkin, blushing.

“Hey, did we pick out what movies to watch yet?” Lucas asks excitedly, oblivious.

“Not yet, but we have a bunch of VHS from Bob,” Will says with a touch of sadness. “He loved recording stuff for us when it was on TV, and I know he’d love for us to enjoy whatever he taped.”

“Yeah, he was a good guy,” Mike says, turning more towards Will. “As long as watching the tapes won’t make you sad.”

“Nah, it’ll be fun,” he insists. “And, hey—I think he made a copy of Excalibur, and E.T.,” he lists. “And the animated Hobbit movie.”

“Oh, you kids should tell Billy what you named the kittens,” Joyce says, grinning. “They’re so cute, wait until you hear.”

“They’re super nerdy,” Max sighs. “But still kinda cute.”

“We’re trying out Pippin and Merry,” Dustin supplies, grinning.

“Aw, those’re cute names,” Steve gushes. “I like ‘em.”

Billy pauses, his fork hovering over his plate, and he looks between Dustin and Will.

“I thought the kittens were girls?”

“They are girls,” Will says innocently. “We just thought the names suited them. Besides, they are pretty gender neutral, don’t you think?”

“Wait—hold the phone!” Dustin cries, his hand hitting the table. “You know those are technically guy names?”

“Okay, tone it down, Henderson,” Hopper warns, wincing.

“Yeah, but—that means Billy knows the names because he read Lord of the Rings!”

“Why is that so significant?” Steve asks, snorting. “So, he likes to read. So, what?”

“The Lord of the Rings is long,” Lucas remarks, grinning smugly. “Like, over a thousand pages, long. And it has its own languages and songs and stuff. It’s not just some easy read, Steve.”

“I tried reading it once in eighth grade,” Nancy admits, averting her gaze. “It was a lot. I quit after a few chapters.”

“Okay, so I know the names of a couple of Hobbits,” Billy says easily, shrugging. “No need to get all crazy about it. Geez.”

“Max, your brother’s one of us,” Dustin continues, beaming. “This is insane—how could you hold out on us like this?”

“I didn’t think it mattered, for one thing,” Max admits. “And, for another, Billy’s not like you nerds. So don’t get any ideas about him joining your D&D games. He’s just really smart and gets easily bored.”

“You know…” Nancy hums. “Steve’s gonna need a new study buddy. I mean, did you ever finish your college application essay, Steve?”

“I, uh…” Steve tries to laugh her off, not wanting to show his humiliation at being called out so unexpectedly. “I dunno? I was thinking I’d just concentrate on getting through my senior year and worry about college later. Like I told you before, I’ll probably just end up interning for my dad’s company, or something equally as soul crushing.”

“But isn’t that in corporate real estate?” Jonathan asks, tilting his head. “Don’t you need some kind of business degree for that?”

“Not to work in the mail room,” Mike muses, earning a nasty look from his sister; and Billy.

“It’s fine,” Steve mumbles, his cheeks hot as he tries to pretend none of it bothers him. “And it’s international corporate real estate, by the way. But they also handle some domestic accounts.”

“And yet you live in Hawkins, of all places,” Lucas says, shaking his head. “So bizarre.”

“My dad grew up here before his family moved to Chicago, and my mom wanted to have a family somewhere quiet. Look—it doesn’t matter. This is just where we ended up, okay? I mean, you and Dustin both moved to Hawkins at some point, and nobody gives you the third degree about it.”

Steve knows there’s an edge to his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s tried to play nice with these persistent thirteen year old brats, and it hasn’t gotten him anywhere.

“Okay, sorry,” Lucas mumbles. “It was just a question.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin says quietly. “Nobody was implying you should move away or anything. Or that you’re stupid. ‘Cause you’re not—and I’d really miss you if you were gone.”

“Except that’s what college is, isn’t it? You graduate and move away for higher education. Well, maybe I’m not cut out for that.”

“I think it’s good if you take a year off,” Billy says, pushing his empty plate away. “That way you can recover from all the messed up shit that’s been going on, and have time to figure out what you actually wanna do with your life. I mean, you shouldn’t work for your dad if it's something that you find depressing. What’s the point in that?”

Steve feels a little better, even if he never expected to hear something so encouraging pass Billy’s lips.

Great, now he’s thinking about Billy’s lips again.

Billy meets his gaze, smiling softly, and Steve fidgets in his chair, finding his pants suddenly a little too tight—and blaming his very full belly, and nothing else.

People begin leaving the table, taking their dishes into the kitchen and cleaning up. Billy comes to stand behind him reaching around to take his plate.

“You done, Stevie?”

“Yeah, um, it was really good. Honestly,” he mumbles.

Their fingers brush against each other as Steve attempts to hand Billy the dish he’s already picking up, and they both pause, Steve’s hand lingering on Billy’s own.

And he can’t stop staring into those ocean eyes. It’s practically impossible not to.

“Why don’t you take a break, Billy,” Hopper says, snatching the plate away. “You, ah, could maybe take a shower and relax.”

“A shower?” Billy asks, their moment of entrancement at an end,

“Yeah, you’re smelling a little ripe,” he chuckles. “I didn’t wanna say anything earlier ‘cause I know what it's like to work real hard and be starving. But it might be a good idea.”

Billy sniffs one of his pits, which is kind of adorable, and scrunches his nose.

“Fuck, maybe you shoulda said something,” he mutters.

“I never noticed anything,” Steve says hurriedly. And Mike’s a jerk—if he’d noticed he definitely woulda said something.”

Truth is, Steve had noticed his heady scent earlier, but he didn’t mind it. He vaguely wonders if that’s a sign of something; finding somebody’s personal odor appealing. Nancy never smelled like anything but rose water and minty toothpaste. Always fresh and perfect. Well, until Halloween when she reeked of alcohol and regret.

But Steve’s been around Billy several times when he’s been practically glistening with sweat; basketball practice, that night at the Byers when they dragged him to the hospital, and the afternoon Neil beat the shit out of him.

Yeah, maybe Steve will try to omit the more negative moments associated with all things Billy Hargrove in future.

“Thanks but, ah, I think I’ll go shower anyway,” Billy mumbles. “You’re sure I can’t help you clean up, Hop?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Besides, Joyce loves it when I clean up.”

Billy snorts and shakes his head.

“Knew there had to be an ulterior motive in there somewhere,” he teases, patting Hopper on the shoulder.

“Gotta keep her happy so she’ll keep me around, ya know.”

“I can’t imagine Joyce ever wanting to be rid of you. Besides, El wouldn’t let her kick you out, old man.”

“Yeah, she’s quite the force to be reckoned with,” Hop muses.

“So I hear,” Billy adds knowingly.

“Oh—that so?”

“Yeah, I think we need to have a more in-depth talk sometime; about El.”

“Sure thing, kid,” he chuckles. “I guess I owe you as much. Now, go on—take care of yourself and relax.”

“Thanks, Hop,” he hums. “Hey, you gonna stick around if I disappear for a bit? Steve—you’re not leaving, right?”

“Huh?”

So caught up in their banter, Steve didn’t realize Billy was talking to him again.

“It’s still coming down pretty heavy out there,” Billy adds, giving him an expectant look. “You’re gonna stay, right?”

“Oh, yeah…” Steve swallows, his pulse racing as his gaze flits to Billy’s mouth. “Yeah, I’ll stay. If you, uh, want me to.”

Billy leans in, a wry grin on his lips, and his musky scent threatens to overwhelm him as he picks up the napkin from Steve’s lap.

“You have a little bit of sauce,” he murmurs, wiping a spot on Steve’s chin before dabbing at the corner of his mouth. “There—much better.”

Steve’s hand moves of its own accord, holding Billy’s hand and keeping it pressed to his face.

“Thanks,” he whispers, his knees hugging the outside of Billy’s legs. “For dinner, and everything,” he adds, a soft smile curving his lips.

“Sure thing, pretty boy,” Billy hums, pulling his hand away.

Steve sighs as Billy walks away, leaving him at the table to deal with his full stomach, and his very insistent arousal.

“Easy, boy,” he says to his lap, snorting.

{~~~~~}

It takes almost every last shred of Billy’s self-control to keep from touching himself in the shower. He might’ve surrendered to temptation if Steve wasn’t still in the house, innocently waiting downstairs while he washes up.

Well, maybe not so innocently, he thinks.

Billy probably would’ve showered earlier, after bathing Merry and Pippin—yeah, the names are growing on him—if not for Steve showing up. Changing his shirt had helped, but not enough, apparently.

It feels good, though, washing away the day; the week.

He tries not to think about all the boxes still piled in the basement, some of which are Bob Newby’s. They’ll get to them eventually, when they have time. Sure, none of this stuff is his, but Billy doesn’t mind helping out. It’s certainly been more enjoyable than when they moved to Hawkins.

All Billy brought with him, he could fit into a couple of boxes and a suitcase.

He grins, glancing at the suitcase tucked into the back of his closet. It was his mom’s, once upon a time. Old and full of patches made from scraps of outgrown and worn out clothes, each one sewn on with love and care.

Crouching, Billy runs his fingers over a circle of dusty pink corduroy. The story was, it was cut from one of his mom’s maternity dresses. It reminds him of the color in her cheeks after a warm day on the beach. Another patch has an embroidered flower on navy cotton—one of his shirts Neil tore in a rage, calling it too girlie for any son of his to wear.

Now, that’s a thought. Maybe Billy could start wearing whatever he wants again. Shirts that aren't plain denim, or a solid color; the uniform Neil had come to expect from him.

Billy tugs on a clean sweat shirt in dark blue and the matching pants. After massaging a small amount of mousse into his damp curls, he pulls on some thick socks, a gift from Jonathan. He wiggles his toes under the knitted wool and grins.

Then a sound in the hall catches his attention.

“Gotcha!”

“Thanks, Steve,” Will laughs.

“Hey, thank you,” Steve responds, setting the squirming kitten into his arms. “I really appreciate you letting me use your room.”

“Well, I’ll be up in the loft, and you shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch, or the floor.”

Steve grins as bright as the morning sun, and Billy feels a little weak at the knees. When he glances over, noticing Billy, he has to lean on the wall to steady himself.

“And I really appreciate it,” Steve adds, reaching to tousle Will’s hair. “Be a good kitty for your new family, Pip.”

“She’s a menace,” Will chuckles. “But hopefully she’ll go to sleep again soon.”

“Cats are pretty nocturnal,” Billy remarks, offering him a grin. “Maybe close them in a bathroom overnight so they don’t make a mess, or bite your toes.”

“Dustin brought us a litter box and some spare dishes,” Will says, nuzzling into the kitten’s fur. “So they should be good in the bathroom, I think.”

“Put down a few towels from them to nest in,” Billy adds, stepping closer and petting Pippin’s head. “Keep ‘em warm.”

“I will,” he says, turning to go. “Thanks, Billy—and thanks again, Steve.”

“Kinda makes me mad,” Steve mumbles, voice low. “He’s such a great kid.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Billy says, huffing out a sigh, his hands curling at his sides. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. I just hope he’s doing as well as he seems to be.”

“I think having his friends with him as much as possible is good for him,” Steve murmurs. “Even Mike.”

“Mike’s a spitfire, alright,” Billy muses, finding that the kid might be growing on him. “Will needs somebody like him in his life. All his friends are kind of great—in their own way.”

“Makes a person envious,” he says offhandedly.

“Hey, you’ve got friends, Steve.” Billy nudges his foot with his own. “Some of them are a little shittier than others, but they still care about you a good deal.”

“I guess…”

Steve smiles weakly and looks down the hall at the door leading to the loft above them.

“So, you’re staying in Will’s room tonight?”

“Yeah—” Steve thumbs at the open door behind him. “Was nice of him, letting me sleep in his bed.”

“That’s our Will,” Billy hums.

“But, ah, it’s still kind of early...”

Steve’s thought is interrupted by a roar of laughter and thumping feet over their heads.

“Oh, that’s not gonna be annoying,” Billy laughs.

“They’re fine,” Steve laughs. “It’s only one night.”

“I know, but still.”

“It’s fine, Billy,” he says warmly. “They’re not gonna bother me.”

“You sure? Aren’t you used to a quiet house?”

“An empty house, more like,” Steve mutters, frowning. “No, this is nice. Honestly.”

“Hey, ah, do you wanna come hang out in my room? It’s still early.”

Steve checks his watch, his brows raising.

“God, it’s only 7:45,” he says, amazed. “I guess the sun sets so early, and there’s snow and all. I really thought it was closer to ten, at least.”

“We did have school today,” Billy muses, crossing his arms and looking Steve over, noticing the dusting of five o’clock shadow on his upper lip. “Makes for a long day.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

“We could go downstairs and watch some TV,” Billy adds, discouraged by how Steve never responded to his offer to hang out in his room. “Hop got basic cable working.”

“How thrilling,” Steve snorts. “But sure. Why not?”

When they reach the living room, they find Jonathan stretched out on the couch, his head in Nancy’s lap. She absently combs her fingers through his hair as they watch the screen, the two of them quietly bantering, back and forth.

Hopper sits in his recliner, his eyes hooded and a tired grin on his mouth. He laughs at some silly antics in the show they’re watching, and Joyce snorts from where she sits opposite him, on the loveseat.

“Oh, hi,” Joyce greets, looking ready to stand up. “Do you want to join us?”

Jonathan lifts his head, like he might make room, too, but Billy puts a hand up.

“It’s okay, we can manage,” he interjects. “Please don’t move on our account.”

“Our account?” Nancy repeats, squinting up at him. “Was Steve with you?”

Confused, Billy turns to find a Steve-shaped vacant space beside him.

“Oh, um, yeah. Just, ah, never mind.” He sighs, realizing that Harrington couldn’t handle Nancy and Jonathan’s being so domestic after all. “Does anybody need anything?”

“No, honey,” Joyce tells him. “But maybe Steve does?”

“Hm, maybe…”

“Let us know if we can help,” Jonathan calls as he heads back upstairs.

“Sure thing,” Billy calls back, thinking they’ve done enough already.

 

Billy checks in Will’s room, surprised to find Steve’s not there. Then he hears the radio click on in his own bedroom, and his chest tightens uncomfortably. Thankfully, it’s just Steve and not another rude haunting from the shadow.

Steve plays with the volume dial, keeping it low, but not too low, and something about seeing Steve sitting on his bed feels right.

Billy just wishes the guy didn’t look so fucking wrecked.

“Hey,” he murmurs, shutting the door. “You okay?”

Steve merely shrugs, his gaze on the digital numbers of the clock radio.

“I have a proper stereo, you know,” Billy says lightheartedly, coming to sit next to him.

As the mattress dips, Steve tilts his head towards him and tries to smile.

“C’mon, Stevie,” he says softly, his thigh pressing to Steve’s. “Talk to me.”

“Don’t know what to say,” he mumbles, his gaze falling to the place where their knees touch. “I really like you—it’s almost crazy how much. But…”

“But you’re not ready,” Billy hedges, his leg moving away, breaking contact. “Yeah, I get that.”

Steve’s knee jerks to reconnect with Billy’s, craving his warmth.

“No, I…” He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I guess I just had this picture in my head. Like this dream of what I thought my future would look like. Kind of thought I’d get married and have a bunch of rugrats, ya know? Maybe we’d take family vacations—road trips. Go out west and see the ocean. Maybe travel to Italy and visit the village where my grandparents grew up and fell in love. Really cheesy crap like that.”

“All of that sounds incredible—not silly at all. But I guess you can’t do that with somebody like me,” Billy says, the words almost wounding in their honesty. “Yeah, I get it, Steve. But why’re you in my room if you’ve already had this big revelation?”

Steve looks at him then, his big doe eyes so full of longing.

“Because, Bee,” he says, whisper-soft. “Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe dreams can change.”

“I’m not asking you to be with me forever,” Billy says, his breath hitching. “If I’m honest—like, truly honest—I don’t even really care if I only get to have you for a few short months, until you graduate. Because I can’t stop how I’m feeling, and I really wanna be with you, whatever you’ll give me.”

His hand seeks Steve’s own, clinging onto it and squeezing tightly.

“Billy…”

“Just stay—please? Listen to some music and forget what I said before,” he pleads, searching Steve’s gaze. “Treat me like I’m one of your girls, however you want, just as long as you’re holding me; I don’t care.”

“Billy,” Steve murmurs, the sound on his lips almost heartbreaking.

Steve gives his hand a gentle squeeze, then he slowly snakes his other hand up Billy’s chest and neck, cupping his jaw and pulling him in for a heated kiss. While they continue to kiss, needy and desperate, Steve guides Billy closer to the wall, pressing his back into the bed. He drapes his body over him, his weight warm and comforting.

Billy moves his knees apart, wrapping his legs around Steve’s perfect hips, his hand smoothing along the curve of his back, fingers tangling in his hair. He can feel Steve rut into his thigh, a soft whimper dragging out of his throat, then he pulls away. It’s only an inch or two, but Billy’s heart is already sinking into his stomach.

“You okay?” Steve mumbles, an unexpected grin on his kiss-swollen lips.

“Beautiful,” Billy sighs, tracing Steve’s cheekbone with feather light fingertips, and playing connect-the-dots with his beauty marks.

Steve chuckles, his breath hot as it ghosts over Billy’s skin.

“I know you’re beautiful, Bee,” he teases. “But are you okay? I kind of lost control for a minute there.”

“I’m good,” Billy replies, almost unable to believe any of this is real. “Thought for sure you were about to bolt this time, though.”

Steve laughs, and it’s a gentle, breathless thing.

“Nah, I’m not going anywhere—not yet.”

Billy grins, then sits up.

“I know most of my music will probably make your ears bleed, but I think I have something you might like.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he gets up and moves to his stereo, slotting in a cassette and pressing play. He shuts off the radio and sits on the edge of the bed.

Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train filters through the small speakers, and Billy can feel Steve recoil as Ozzy shouts out ‘All aboard’.

“It’s good—stick with it,” he chuckles. “I swear.”

As the guitar riff becomes more melodic, Billy chances a glance over his shoulder. Much to his relief, Steve bites his bottom lip and bobs his head in rhythm.

“S’good,” he admits, hooking his arms around Billy’s waist and pulling him down to the bed. “I like it,” he adds, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “And—I like you, too.”

“There’s that cheese you warned me about,” Billy says teasingly. “You’re such a guy.”

“Um, duh,” Steve snorts, covering them both with a blanket before nuzzling into his soft, clean hair. “S’why you like me, right?”

“Right,” he chuckles. “I guess it is.”

They lay there through a few songs of his mix-tape, Steve spooning him from behind, humming along here and there. Outside, the snow continues to fall, collecting in the corners of his window as frost curls and paints the glass. It’s almost magical, and Billy never wants it to end.

Sleep drags Billy under, almost against his will, but it doesn’t really matter; just as long as Steve is here with him when he wakes.

Only…he isn’t.

Steve’s gone when Billy wakes in the morning, and so is his BMW. The hint of his hair spray and cologne on his pillow are the only evidence that he was ever there. Well, that and the tire tracks in the sparkling, crisp snow in the driveway.

But Billy isn’t upset. This is what he expected—because everybody always leaves him, eventually.

Steve just got away a lot sooner than he’d hoped.

…

Chapter Text

It’s still dark when Steve opens his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to remember where he is, but the warm body he’s currently spooning goes a long way to jogging his memory.

There’s a sliver of light bleeding around and through the slatted blinds, possibly the porch light or, knowing Hopper, a security light somewhere on the property which is now reflecting off the freshly fallen snow.

Steve can just make out the outline of Billy’s face, his soft hair and parted lips. He looks so restful and beautiful, almost like a dream.

That’s when Steve realizes that he doesn't really remember dreaming. No nightmares of demogorgons or demodogs. No waking up shrieking and reaching for his baseball bat. Just wonderful, peaceful sleep; and all thanks to not being alone.

He smiles fondly to himself, and reaches to brush a curl from Billy's eyes, greedily wanting a better view of his long lashes fanned over his soft cheek. But as he leans up, Steve catches sight of the clock.

It’s 6:37 AM.

Deciding it’s best not to wake his bedmate, Steve carefully adjusts his position and tries to fall back asleep. Sadly, after sleeping so well for several solid hours, he’s now wide awake.

“Great,” he whispers to the ceiling.

Billy murmurs in his sleep, but remains softly snoring. So, Steve decides to get up and see if he can start breakfast or something. Maybe go out and clear off the cars. Though, as soon as he’s standing, his bladder takes priority.

As he comes out of the bathroom, Steve can hear sounds carrying from downstairs. Laughter mixes with slapstick sound effects of Saturday morning cartoons, and as he creeps down the staircase, he finds El and Dustin watching Looney Tunes in the living room with the kittens, all curled up on the couch.

“Steve—you stayed!” Dustin whisper-shouts.

“Seems like it,” he chuckles.

Steve feels something move behind him and he whirls around. Mike gives him a weird look and Will yawns beside him.

“Relax,” Mike mutters. “We’re not gonna attack you.”

“Don’t be mean, maybe he isn’t fully awake yet,” Will mumbles, leaning into the other boy.

“Sorry, did we wake you guys?”

“Nah, we heard Hop and Mom moving around,” Will replies. “I think he has to go into the station, or something.”

“Oh, yeah—the phone rang,” Dustin says, frowning. “That was fucking loud.”

Weirdly, Steve doesn’t recall hearing the phone at all, but maybe there just isn’t one close to Billy’s room.

“Well, if Hop’s gotta go into town, how about I start on breakfast for all you youngings,” Steve chuckles. “Can you show me around the kitchen, El?”

El grins as she nods.

“Can we have waffles?”

“Better—I’m gonna make pancakes,” he beams.

El wrinkles her nose and picks up Merry, tucking the sleepy kitten to her chest.

“No, don’t worry,” Dustin assures her. “Steve makes really good breakfast food. It’s like his one talent.”

“Ah, thanks, Dee,” he says skeptically. “I think?”

“You’re welcome.”

As Dustin and El join him in the kitchen, Mike and Will curl up on the couch, taking advantage of the warmth they’ve left behind.

“Um, if you guys are all down here, does that mean Max and Lucas are in the loft all by themselves?”

“Yes,” El says innocently.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Dustin muses, patting his arm. “Lucas is snoring like a truck. Max’ll probably whack him with a pillow soon enough. Nothing kinky’s going on.”

“Kinky?” El asks, tilting her head.

“Yeah, Dustin,” Steve needles, biting back a grin. “What do you mean?”

Dustin’s face goes red.

“I hate you, sometimes.”

Steve laughs and tousles his hair, enjoying this little family moment, even if these kids aren’t technically his family. It’s also so bizarre to him that Nancy, his ex-girlfriend, is somewhere in the house, sleeping with Jonathan; meanwhile, Billy is upstairs—his could be new boyfriend.

His grin widens, giddy at the thought that he, Steve Harrington, might have a boyfriend. What’s even weirder is that he kind of likes the idea, and he definitely likes Billy.

The rest they can figure out later.

 

“Careful,” Steve warns, laughing a second later. “That one almost hit the ceiling.”

“No it didn’t,” Max snorts. “Besides, El could just get it down again.”

El nods from where she’s sitting on the stool at the kitchen island, her mouth full of warm, chocolate chip pancake.

Steve fondly rolls his eyes.

“Okay, well, that’s cheating.”

“It is not,” Max huffs.

Then she flips her pancake up even higher in the air with a flick of her wrist. It lands safely back in the pan, if not a little over the edge.

“Tah-dah!”

“You have your brother’s confidence, I’ll give you that,” he chuckles. “Just be careful they don’t hit the floor. I don’t think cats are supposed to have chocolate.”

She grins and drops the pancake onto the stack on the counter.

“Sorry, baby girl, no pancakes for you,” Max remarks as Pippin rubs against her ankle. “But—” she continues, turning to Steve again. “—I hope you’ll tell Billy that I helped you when you take his breakfast up to him.”

“Of course,” Steve hums, pouring orange juice into a pair of glasses. “I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Thanks, but, ah…” Max nods towards the table. “You’d better steal some syrup for your tray before Will and Mike use it all on their eggs.”

“God, both of you?” Steve scoffs, like they’re committing some horrible sin. “Dee, do you do that?”

Dustin pauses as he tucks Merry to his chest. She’s trying her best to swipe at his food, and meows sadly. He sets the kitten down on the floor and glances at his friends.

“Nah, that’s a them thing,” he says, shrugging.

“Yeah, it’s weird, but we don’t question it,” Lucas adds, shaking his head.

“What do you know?” Mike retorts, snorting. “You refuse to try it.”

“Eggs have basically no taste,” Lucas argues, plucking a slice of banana off the plate of cut fruit. “So adding syrup is basically, like, all sugar. It’d be too sweet to eat.”

“I always add salt to mine, too,” Will says, secretly dropping a slice of melon under the table for Pippin. “And eggs have flavor, Lucas. You just can’t tell because you drown yours in ketchup, which is way worse.”

Lucas makes a face and Dustin laughs.

“Got you there,” Dustin teases.

“I like this,” El murmurs happily. “Everyone here; talking and sharing food.”

“Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it?” Max muses, offering El a smile as she joins her at the island to start on her own breakfast. “Maybe Steve can move in, too. Be our live-in nanny.”

“Ah, you have two parents and two big brothers already,” Steve snorts. “I don’t really think you need me hanging around to take care of you. Plus—oh, yeah—you’re all old enough to take care of yourselves.”

“Yeah, but we like it when you do stuff for us, Steve,” Dustin says, grinning. “Hey, you could always come back to stay at my house. My mom says you’re always welcome.”

“Yeah, uh huh, and have you use me as free labor and your unpaid chauffeur? No, thanks.”

“You know you love it,” Mike says, laughing. “Besides, who actually likes being on their own all the time? I mean, I saw you coming out of Billy’s bedroom this morning, so clearly you got lonely in Will’s room, all by yourself.”

Steve freezes up for a second, then he grins and shrugs one shoulder.

“Hey,You know how it is, sometimes,” he remarks easily. “We got to listening to music on his bed and just fell asleep. It happens.”

“You were listening to music?” Lucas asks, arching a brow. “Billy’s music?”

“Yeah, I don’t think Billy’s music puts people to sleep,” Mike mumbles. “More like gives you a migraine or makes you wanna throw yourself out a window.”

“C’mon, Mike,” Steve needles, picking up his tray. “You, of all people, should know what I’m talking about. You cuddle up with Will in his bed all the time; and I’m sure it’s perfectly innocent.”

Will glances at Mike—and Mike ducks his head, his cheeks going strawberry red.

“It is,” Will says, sounding almost disappointed. “Innocent, I mean. And I think it’s nice that you two are becoming better friends.”

“Yeah, I hear high school’s a battlefield,” Dustin grumbles. “Not looking forward to it. But—at least you two will have each other’s backs.”

“Backs, fronts…” Max mumbles under her breath.

“What, Max?” El asks, tilting her head.

“Huh?” Max sits up straighter and starts quickly shoveling her food into her mouth. “Mnoffin’,” she mumbles.

“Okay, try to behave while I go upstairs,” Steve says, giving Max a funny look. “Okay, kids?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas waves him off. “Just make sure the stove is off, not-the-nanny-Steve.”

“Oh—shit,” he hisses, his head whipping around.

“It’s fine,” Max snorts. “I shut it off already. Go—you’re fine.”

“Okay, um, thanks.”

Steve balances the tray of food, enough for two to share, and is about to turn around when Dustin curses.

“Oh, shit…”

“What now, Henderson?”

“Ah, Steve?” Will mumbles, pointing. “I think your little surprise is blown.”

Knitting his eyebrows together, Steve slowly turns around to find Billy standing in the archway to the kitchen. He looks confused, baffled, and maybe a little pissed off.

“Oh, hey,” Steve hums, holding the tray higher. “I thought you were still sleeping. I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed. You know, after you worked so hard yesterday, I thought you could use some pampering. I even grabbed you some Tylenol.”

Billy doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and even the kids tense.

“Ah, you okay?” Steve hedges, chuckling. “I mean, we don’t have to eat up in your room. You can join us in the kitchen, or we can sit in the living room… Whatever you like, Bee.”

“Your Beamer’s gone,” Billy mutters, his expression blank.

“Yeah…” Steve sets the tray down on the counter, finding it very heavy all of a sudden. “Hop got called in, something about burst pipes at the Church off Main Street. He’s not a plumber, or whatever, but I guess it’s because it’s a public building or something? Anyway, I was blocking him in, so I gave him my keys and he moved my car into the garage.”

Billy continues to stare at him, his brows drawing together as he purses his lips.

“Wait—” Steve steps closer to him. “—You didn’t seriously think I left, did you? I mean, I wouldn’t do that. Not without telling you, or leaving a note, or something. Hey, don’t be upset—I’m here.”

“Steve made us breakfast,” El says, a smudge of chocolate on her grinning mouth.

Billy shuts his eyes, his chin tucking to his chest. It hurts to see him like this, looking so small. Probably so used to rejection that he doesn’t know how to deal with anything turning out for the better.

“Hey, let’s go sit down for a minute, Steve says softly, carefully touching Billy’s shoulder. “Let’s talk, okay?”

Billy glances up at him and manages to nod.

“Good,” Steve murmurs. Then he turns to the kids. “Nobody eats our food—I made you plenty. I mean it: touch it and die.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas mumbles as Dustin and Mike mutter, “Yeah, got it.”

Guiding Billy into the next room, they sit by the fireplace on the couch. Billy lets out a shaky breath, and the sound makes Steve’s heart ache.

“I thought you left,” Billy whispers. “I woke up and you were gone. And… Your fuckin’ car—I couldn’t see it out my window, just the tracks. Didn’t blame you. Knew you’d fuck off at some point…”

When Billy trails off, Steve gives him the space to continue. When he doesn’t say anything else, Steve offers him a warm smile.

“Hey, can I say something?”

Steve rubs gentle circles into Billy’s back and, thankfully, Billy doesn’t swat his hand away. He just looks at Steve with such sadness, chewing on his bottom lip, that Steve feels guilty beyond reason.

“Billy, I’m so sorry you thought I bailed on you. It’s just that we fell asleep so early—and it was so nice. I honestly haven’t slept that well in literal years, even all smashed together like we were.”

Steve pauses to chuckle lightheartedly.

“But because we fell asleep so early, and I slept about a solid ten hours, I was wide awake by six-thirty. But I didn’t wanna wake you ‘cause I knew how hard you’d worked yesterday. Hell, all week you’ve been tearing up the court. So, um, anyway. I came downstairs to see if I could help make us breakfast. Then I ended up making everybody food when Hop and Joyce left—both to work, which sucks. But I still planned to bring you breakfast in bed: hence the tray.”

Billy shakes his head, looking ready to pull away.

“You probably think I’m stupid—getting so upset over some simple misunderstanding.” His voice drops lower then, sounding more like Neil than himself. "Don't mind Billy, he’s just being a goddamn pussy again.”

“Billy… No,” Steve murmurs, tugging him into his chest and holding him tightly, like he might slip from his grasp at any second. “I don’t think that at all. I can’t know how you used to be treated, but I do have an idea of how it feels to be left out or belittled. And I don’t ever want you to think I’d treat you that way. Please tell me you know that?”

To his relief, Billy’s arms snake around his back as he buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Sorry, Stevie,” he mumbles, squeezing him tighter.

It's quite something, Billy’s weight against him, his hot breath on his skin, and the strength of his arms as he clings to him. Nancy is so small, though not at all delicate; but Billy’s so much more substantial, and so much more vulnerable.

Steve wonders if this is the side of herself that Nancy let Jonathan see, instead of him. Why couldn’t she trust him like this; to fall to pieces and trust Steve could gather her up and put her back together? And, more importantly, does this mean Billy trusts him to do this for him?

God, that would be so incredibly amazing—yet entirely terrifying.

“No need to be sorry, Billy,” he murmurs, combing his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “But I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re basically stuck with me.”

“I’m awful,” Billy warbles, his fingers curling into the back of Steve’s shirt. “I want too much, which is why I never ask for anything. Just… Hurts.”

“Yeah, I feel that. But you can want things from me. Okay? You only need to ask.”

“Okay,” he replies, though he doesn’t sound very sure.

Steve sighs, nuzzling into Billy’s cheek and hair, breathing him in.

“Mm, you smell so good. Need to bottle you up and take your scent home with me.”

“Or you could just stay,” Billy tries, lifting his chin to meet his gaze.

Something catches Steve’s eye as he reaches to brush the hair from Billy’s eyes. It’s Mike, his weird little scowl just like the one he made when Steve mistakenly called him Nancy in the back of the Camaro. Mike’s there, and then he’s gone, like a ghost, sending shivers up Steve’s spine.

Because who even knows what he must make of them hugging so intimately like they are.

“I, uh…” Steve grins, pretending nobody was just spying on them. “Yeah, I could. I mean, I doubt my parents have even noticed I didn’t come home last night. There’s just one problem—your room is way too small for the two of us. And, ah—okay, maybe two problems. Because I’m not really sure we should be moving in together just yet. It’s a little fast, don’t ya think? Plus, there’s the whole nobody can know about us yet, thing…”

“Are you trying to be cute?” Billy asks, a grin fighting its way onto his lips. “But, yeah. You’re right, Stevie. That would be crazy.”

“Good,” he hums. “Well, that we’re on the same page. Not that we’re crazy. Because that would mean... You know.”

Billy rests his head on Steve’s shoulder as he absently fidgets with his Rolex.

“I dunno, crazy’s not so bad, is it?” he asks, peeking up at him through his dark lashes. “Being normal is pretty overrated.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that,” Steve chuckles, a little relieved Billy didn’t call him out for making such a cheesy remark. “But, hey? You hungry? ‘Cause we should eat before our food goes cold.”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Then speak up, Bee,” he teases, tugging on Billy’s ear and admiring his simple gold hoop earring for a second. “Hey, what happened to the dangling one you had on yesterday?”

“I changed it, that’s all,” Billy mumbles, pulling away and standing. “Just felt like something different; more simple. Something that won’t get caught in a hat, now that I’ve gotta wear one. Honestly, how do people deal with months of this freezing cold and snow?”

“We’re just used to it, I guess,” he says fondly. “And, it’s nice. The earring. Simple suits you.”

A crooked grin plays on his lips as Billy brings the tray into the room, setting it on the coffee table in front of them.

“Shoulda known somebody as sappy as you wouldn’t have left like a criminal in the dead of night,” he snorts.

“Yep, I’m way too insufferably romantic.”

Billy glances around to make sure nobody’s looking, then presses a kiss to the corner of Steve’s lips.

“You definitely are,” he murmurs.

 

Steve finds Mike a little later, after they’ve cleaned up. He’s about to go outside because a few of them decided to show El how to build a snowman. Tapping on his shoulder he tugs him away from the group and into the hallway.

Mike gives him the rudest bitchface, wriggling away until his back hits the wall.

“What do ya want?” Mike yelps.

“Calm down, Wheeler. I just wanna speak to you.”

Mike looks him up and down, his nose scrunching.

“You mistaking me for my sister again, or something?”

Steve snorts, fairly certain he’d never make that mistake while in his right mind.

“Just—can we talk like civilized people for a minute? Just one minute—please?”

Will pauses, the only one who notices when Mike gets pulled aside. Mike throws him a nod and waves him off.

“I’ll be out in a minute. If I take longer than that, call Hopper ‘cause I’ll either be kidnapped or dead.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Steve says, chuckling. “But, Will—can you please let Billy know I’ll be out in a minute?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Will says, looking a little confused. “I’ll, uh, wait on the porch for you, Mike.”

“Cool,” Mike hums, a funny little grin on his lips. “I mean, thanks.”

“Of course,” he replies, cheeks pink.

“Huh, maybe this isn’t gonna be that hard of a conversation after all,” Steve mumbles, clocking their little flirty moment.

“What’re you talking about, Harrington? Like, seriously, I know we’ve spoken more in the last month than we did the entire year you dated Nancy, but I still don’t know what you’re thinking half the time. So, be less vague, okay?”

Steve blinks at him for a second.

“Yeah, okay. Well, I saw you walk by the living earlier and I know you saw me hugging Billy. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna be weird about it, especially after that comment you made at breakfast about seeing me come out of Billy’s bedroom.”

“I honestly don’t even remember saying anything,” Mike mumbles, pulling his knit hat on. “And sure, I saw you; but so what? Frankly, I tried to leave before you saw me. Clearly Billy was upset. But what else is new? The guy seems to cry over everything lately. It’s a little embarrassing, if you ask me. I mean, he’s living here now, he shouldn’t be so upset all the time.”

“Mike…”

The kid raises his eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Steve mumbles, shaking his head. “Just go outside.”

“Really—that’s it?”

“Yup, that’s it.”

Mike slips on his mittens and pauses as he reaches the front door.

“Hey, uh, I might not get why Billy’s being so weirdly emotional, but, ah. I think it’s nice that you’re trying to be a good friend to him. It’s not like he’s made it easy for you to wanna be close to him, or anything. Will’s kind of like that—needs some extra attention sometimes. I’m just glad he doesn’t usually fight me when I try to give it to him. And, I mean, Jonathan’s great, but you didn’t deserve to be dumped like you did. You’re not the same sleazeball my sister was obsessed with last year, you deserved better.”

Steve blinks at him again, taken aback by his kind words. Words he never expected to come out of Mike Wheeler’s mouth, of all places.

“Uh, thanks. That’s super nice of you to say, Mike.”

“Yeah, well, if Billy’s living with Will and El and you’re gonna be hanging around him—and Dustin, for whatever reason—I figured I could try harder to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“That’s very mature of you,” Steve says, grinning. “And I’ll try not to assume you’re to blame whenever something goes wrong.”

“Hey, I’m the guy who makes plans and fixes stuff,” Mike protests, swinging the door open. “I only fuck up at school.”

“God, I feel that,” Steve remarks, snorting. “Okay, party leader. Now, close the damn door before you let all the heat out of the house.”

“Ah, okay, Dad,” he teases, rolling his eyes.

Steve laughs as Mike slams the door. It’s kind of funny to him how close he is to Will and yet so clueless about his feelings for the other boy. Unless Steve has it wrong, and he only sees their close friendship as special because of his growing feelings for Billy.

Then he peeks out of the window and catches the way Mike throws an arm around Will’s neck, pulling him in close as his whole face lights up. It reminds him of when he used to surprise Nancy in the hallways at school, and by her locker, and use any excuse just to touch her and squeeze her tight.

Yeah, Steve probably won’t be doing any of that with Billy. Most he can hope for is some innocent touching and teasing that he can play off as teammate taunting.

That is if he doesn’t get kicked off the team.

{~~~~~}

Billy lifts his head as Steve jogs towards him. He grins when Steve slips a little in the snow and then throws him a two-mitten thumbs up.

A laugh bubbles up from his chest, the guy’s just so fucking cute.

“You okay, there, pretty boy?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” he says, his hot breath making white puffs in the air. “Never better. What about you? You cold, surfer boy?”

“He laughed when Hopper offered him his old parka,” Max interrupts, patting snow into a ball in her hands. “Now he’s probably super grateful, not that he’ll admit it.”

Billy eyes the snowball, frowning.

“Ah, whatcha doing there, Max?”

“Nothing,” she says innocently.

Steve’s brows knit together, and he takes a step back.

“Don’t even think about it, MadMax,” Billy warns, ready to run.

A sudden volley of snowballs flies through the air. Missing Billy altogether, they pummel Steve’s head, back and shoulders. He spits out slush from the one that got him square in the mouth and shakes his head like a dog, shaking snow off his hat and coat. Then, as Steve scrubs a gloved hand over his face to get the rest, the kids laugh uproariously.

Billy scowls, ready to murder every last one of them; on Steve’s behalf, of course. But then he cracks too, barking out a laugh he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“Okay, very funny,” Steve deadpans.

“You should see your face,” Lucas taunts.

“Yeah, yeah—yuck it up, Sinclair,” Steve snorts, dusting himself off.

“It’s what you deserve for taking so long,” Dustin muses. “Last one outside has to pay the price.”

“Okay, nobody said that was a rule,” Steve mumbles. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be building a snowman?”

“This was a far better use of our time and resources,” Max snickers.

After a few more seconds of laughter, everybody suddenly goes quiet.

Billy turns his head to find out why, and when he looks up, he can only let out a squeak. His eyes wide and staring in disbelief, a pile of snow floats over his head. Stunned, he numbly points up at the sky, unable to speak, or warn Steve of his impending doom.

Steve makes the mistake of looking up, too, just as the heap of fresh snow drops down on top of him, courtesy of El’s telekinesis.

The kids stand around with their mouths agape, and El’s giggles turn to gut busting laughter. She’s laughing so hard that she clutches her sides and has to gulp for air.

That’s when Steve finally breaks. He’s laughing so hard it makes his eyes water and his ribs ache, and he falls to his knees.

“I think you broke him,” Will remarks, his mouth twitching.

“Um, I think El broke Billy, actually,” Mike retorts.

There’s a quiet ringing in Billy’s ears, and everyone sounds far away, or like his head is underwater.

“Oh, my God,” Steve wheezes. “Don’t piss your pants, Bee. I warned you she could move shit with her mind.”

“That was…” Billy’s mouth flaps, but only incoherent sounds come out.

“Pretty cool, right?” Dustin beams, throwing an arm around El’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Max hums. “Bitchin’. Right, big brother?”

“Sure,” Billy mumbles, his heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe, uh… Do it again?”

“To show him your abilities!” Steve blurts, both of his hands flying up high. “Not the avalanche over my head thing.”

“Okay,” El says simply, raising a hand, palm to the sky, to demonstrate.

Billy’s eyes go even wider as she lifts a fallen tree trunk by the edge of the driveway. He stumbles backwards in awe when she sends it flying through the air, into the woods. It crashes down with an echo of splitting wood, and the kids cheer.

“Cool, right?” Will asks excitedly.

“Yeah, um, cool,” Billy replies shakily, his eyes darting to Steve.

“Wait—he’s been living with you guys for, like, a month, and El never showed him her powers?” Mike exclaims, laughing. “No wonder he almost pissed himself.”

“I didn’t—”

A new kind of thrill blooms in his chest, and Billy lets out a terrifying growl as he charges at Mike and his smart mouth. He catches him easily, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and Mike shrieks. Billy has no intention of hurting the kid, but he cackles maniacally and twirls him in a dizzying circle before launching him into a snowbank.

Mike blinks up at him, his hat askew and cheeks red—then he starts laughing uncontrollably.

“Thank God,” Steve breathes, getting to his feet. “I seriously thought you were gonna murder him.”

“Me too,” Mike wheezes. “Jesus, you looked insane! Thought for sure I was a goner.”

“Relax, Stevie,” Billy snorts. “We’re only having fun. I may not be Ellie with her superpowers, but I can throw stuff over long distances too.”

“Me next!” El cries, hopping up and down as she wipes the droplet of blood from under her nose with her mitten.

“Okay, but be warned,” Mike gets out. “I kinda feel like puking now.”

“It’s okay,” she says brightly, running up to Billy. “I don’t mind.”

He grins down at her, still trying to catch his breath.

“I guess you can’t lift yourself into the air, huh?” he asks, amused.

When El shakes her head, Billy backs up before running at her like a quarterback, making her squeal as he lifts her onto his shoulder and spins her, round and round. He tosses her high in the air, and she lands beside Mike, though thankfully not too close.

“What did you two do last night?” Max asks, snorting. “I’ve never seen him so… I dunno, carefree?”

“We just slept,” Steve chuckles. “Honest.”

Billy catches the way his sister gives Steve some serious side-eye and makes him squirm a little.

“Stop—I mean it,” Steve cries. “What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

She snorts and pats his arm.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me. In fact, it’s probably best that you don’t,” she says teasingly. “Just don’t hurt him, okay? You saw how he was this morning when he thought you’d snuck out.”

“Yeah, I know, Max. And trust me, I have no intention of fucking this up. At least not on purpose.”

“Good,” she hums. “‘Cause I like my brother this way.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs. “Me too.”

Their sweet little moment gets interrupted when all the kids rush at Billy all at once, and tackle him to the ground. Even under the weight of so many scrawny bodies, Billy still strains to hear what Steve and Max are saying.

“Should we, ah, save him?” Steve asks loudly, glancing at Max.

“Meh, consider it payback for when he tried to run Mike, Dustin, and Lucas off the road while they were on their bikes,” she says, shrugging.

Billy’s heart almost jumps into his throat. He’s pretty sure he never told Steve about that.

“I’m sorry—he did what?”

“It was just a gag,” Max remarks, unbothered. “Or so he claims. I really thought he was gonna kill them, at the time. But he swerved away, although they all toppled into the ditch.”

“Jesus,” Steve hisses.

“Yeah, you gotta watch out for that zany sense of humour of his, too,” she adds, snorting. “He can be a little unhinged.”

“Um, yeah, a little,” he chuckles.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Billy huffs, fighting to get free. “I’ll never do anything that stupid again.”

“You’d better not,” Lucas laughs, stealing his hat as Dustin dumps snow on his head.

“Fuck—that’s cold!” Billy cries, making a real effort to get free now. “Okay, enough. Get off me, you little brats,” he laughs.

“Stop torturing him, guys. I think he’s learned his lesson,” Steve calls. “C’mon, let’s show El how to build that snowman.”

Billy flashes him a grateful grin as the kids slowly get up and leave him alone. Will stays behind though, using his mitt to dust the snow from Billy’s now damp hair.

“Sorry, Billy,” Will says sheepishly, handing him back his hat. “I guess we got carried away.”

“Hey, it’s all in good fun, kid,” Billy reassures. “But, thanks.”

As Will hurries to join the others, Steve comes to stand beside him, offering both of his hands.

“You okay, Bee?”

Billy smiles, finding that he actually kind of is.

“Yeah, Stevie, I’m good,” he replies easily. “Maybe even better than good.”

 

Steve lays on his side, shuffling through crinkled papers, before finally handing Billy a few pages.

It was Billy’s idea to go upstairs and work on some homework after all the excitement outside, though he’s starting to think Steve thought it was an excuse for them to be alone so that they could make-out. And, yeah, they might, but Billy also knows that Steve really does have homework, and it probably isn’t close to done yet.

And Billy prefers to help him pass his classes, not fail them.

“Okay, this is what I have so far. The book’s Hamlet, and we’re supposed to argue for or against the whole insanity thing. Like, was he a mastermind who went too far, or a good man who went crazy with grief?”

Billy bites his tongue as he bows his head to read over the few paragraphs Steve’s written. Of course he knows what the topic is, he has Mrs. Hunter for English Lit, too. But that’s not what has him baffled.

Half of the sentences don’t make structural sense, and some of his words are misspelled.

“What?”

“Uh, Nance used to help you, right?” he asks, trying to sound casual as he flips the page. “She’d proof some of your homework?”

“Yeah, I mean. My grades definitely improved once she started helping me.”

“But she never wrote your papers for you?”

“No,” Steve chuckles, nervous. “She’d just fix ‘em up and I’d have to re-write them. You know, ‘cause she’d write all over them. Honestly, if the journalism thing doesn’t pan out, she should be a teacher.”

“Doubtful,” Billy grumbles, going back to the first page.

Steve snorts and arches an eyebrow at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, if all Nancy did was write over your mistakes instead of discussing them with you, and making sure you knew why her responses were better, then she wasn’t teaching you anything.”

“Well, I mean, she tried, but I don’t really like school stuff,” he says, distractedly tracing patterns into the comforter with his finger. “It’s like, I dunno. I can’t really concentrate, and any time I tried to explain my answers, she acted like I was wrong. But, I guess I was most of the time.”

“Well, in an essay like this, as long as you cite your arguments by using examples from the play, you can’t really be wrong.”

“Oh…” Steve runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “Um, how do I do that, exactly?”

Billy grins.

“Sit up and I can show you,” he says, nudging Steve’s thigh with his elbow.

Steve groans, acting like it’s such an inconvenience, but a grin works its way onto his lips.

“Uh, before we start…”

“A kiss?” Steve asks, hopeful.

Billy can’t resist and tilts his head, leaning in and kissing him softly.

“Stop distracting me,” he mumbles against Steve’s lips before sitting up. “What I was gonna ask is: has anybody ever talked to you about dyslexia before?”

“Uh, if that’s like being bisexual, that’s a definite no,” Steve muses.

“No, it’s not,” he sighs, showing Steve his paper. “Dyslexia is when a person tends to write and read out of order. A lot of times, certain letters become confused or swapped. Like d’s and b’s, for instance; or p’s, q’s and g’s. See—like you did here.”

“Oh…” Steve squints. “Huh…”

“And your grammar isn’t great, but I think it’s mainly due to your sentence structure being… Less conventional.”

Steve huffs out a sigh.

“So, you’re saying I’m borderline illiterate, and dumb?” he mumbles, leaning away. “Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that before. So, don’t feel bad, or whatever.”

“Steve… There are techniques you can learn to help you cope better. You’re not stupid, and if you need to take longer with your assignments, then you should have a talk with your teachers. Explain that you aren’t some asshole jock who thinks partying is more important than their assignments, but that you’re struggling to meet deadlines because you have a real, legitimate learning disorder.”

“Great—at least I’m pretty, right?”

His tone is so self-deprecating that Billy wants to scream. But that won’t help anything, so he tries a softer approach instead.

“Please don’t do that,” Billy murmurs, gently reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Steve, you’re not stupid. You have a basic grasp of what you’re supposed to be arguing, but nobody’s ever taken the time to teach you how to write a good essay. Sure, they give you handouts and have given, maybe, a single class on it. But if you miss that class, or you feel too dumb—likely from years of everybody saying you are—to never want to ask questions, then how can you learn?”

Steve keeps his gaze on his lap and shrugs.

“Okay, well…” Billy sighs and continues. “You just need to pick a few examples from the play and include them.”

“Isn’t that plagiarism, or something?” Steve asks, his brows knitting together.

“Um, not if you include which act and scene,” Billy mumbles. “Teachers actually expect you to use quotes to back up your arguments.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense. I sometimes get notes on my work that say incomplete, or lacking evidence, and I’m always confused because I handed the thing in, so clearly I finished it.”

“And I can see that you’ve written examples in your own words, which is fine, but you need to include the direct quotes too, Stevie.”

“Huh…”

Steve lifts his head and leans on Billy, reading over his shoulder. His lips move as he silently reads over his own writing, and Billy has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

“So, you’ll help me find the stuff I need? The evidence?”

“Yeah, Steve, I’ll help you.”

Billy finally lets himself smile when Steve meets his eye and grins.

“Okay—but,” Billy adds, moving off the bed. “You sit at my desk. Less risk of distraction.”

Steve pouts his bottom lip and makes puppy eyes.

“Aw, can’t we fool around first and then get me a passing grade after?”

“Homework first and kissing later,” he says firmly, though he’s tempted to give in. “I’m not trying to change you, you know. I just wanna give you the attention you deserve.”

“Okay, Professor Hargrove,” Steve teases, snatching his paper from Billy’s hand and moving to sit in the desk chair. “If I do good, will I get a gold star?”

Billy rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, pretty boy,” he snorts, clicking on the desk lamp. “You can have all the gold stars—and a kiss.”

“Hmph, I hope you don’t give all your students kisses.”

Billy playfully tugs on a lock of hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, causing his head to tilt back. He hovers over his face, noses almost touching, and Steve lets out a soft whimper.

It sounds so good and causes such a wonderful warmth to pool in his belly, but they need to stay on task.

“Kisses are only for my best students,” Billy tells him, voice soft and low. “So, be a good boy, and work hard, and maybe you can have a nice reward.”

“Yes, Professor,” he says with a needy whine.

Grinning, Billy presses a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose.

“Good,” he hums. “Now, let’s get started.”

 

…

Chapter Text

“Maybe Steve can come over and help us do our hair,” El says excitedly, pressing in beside Max at the bathroom mirror. “And our make-up!”

Billy pauses, reaching for a hairbrush, tingling with the memory of Steve’s pillowy-soft lips on his own.

The girls have taken over the main upstairs bathroom. The counter is covered with makeup and hair accessories, as well as containers of hairspray and gel. The place looks like a war zone, and they’ve barely even gotten started.

“Ah-hem,” Max coughs, noticing him looming behind them. “Did you, like, smoke something before you came in here?”

Billy blinks at her reflection and holds up the brush.

“I’m not high, Max,” he mutters, stepping closer. “And please don’t let Hop hear you imply that I am. I was just kinda shocked. I mean, what about me? I can do hair and Joyce can do make-up.”

“Are you sure about that?” Max asks, eyeing his reflection.

Billy rolls his eyes.

“Fine—but Nancy’s here also, so—”

“I want to show Nancy my new dress!” El squeals, jumping up and down before doing a twirl, fanning out her skirt. “Maybe she can tell me if Mike will like it!”

“Doubtful,” Billy mumbles before adding, “But I’m pretty sure Dustin will.”

“Oh, right…” El smoothes down her skirt and glances shyly in the mirror, looking more like a girl with a crush than she did a second ago.

“Why don’t you go and ask Nance what she thinks,” Max says, ignoring Billy’s remark. “I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you in the dress we picked out.”

El grins and rushes off, leaving Max to throw Billy a withering look in the mirror as she blots her lips on a tissue.

“Look, I know Nancy probably doesn’t know, or care, what her brother likes, but let El be excited—okay. This is her first dance. Also; please don’t go saying things that might confuse her about Dustin. They're only friends.”

“Right—friends,” Billy muses. “And I guess not all sisters are as invested in their brother’s love lives as you are.”

“You are rather hopeless,” she teases, stealing the brush out of his hand. “I mean, I bet you and Steve actually do homework whenever he comes over to study. So lame.”

“He needs to study, believe me,” he snorts.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna keep meddling until I know you two have gotten over yourselves and are solid boyfriends.”

“You mean like how you signed me up to be a chaperone tonight without asking—or telling me until about a half hour ago?”

“Exactly,” she hums, flashing him a wry grin.

“Uh, you know Steve’s not even gonna be at the dance, right?”

“We’ll just see about that.”

Max fiddles with her hair, making a face when she snags on a tangle with the brush.

“Move over, MadMax,” he grumbles, taking the brush back from her. “God, do you even ever comb your hair? It’s like a rat’s nest. I swear, living up in that loft with those cats has turned you feral.”

Max pretends to snap at his hand, baring her teeth, then she growls at the hairbrush.

“I was riding my skateboard earlier, yeesh. So sue me.”

“Where?” he laughs. “There’s about three feet of snow outside. I don’t even wanna know how you managed to pick up every twig, leaf, and blade of dead grass while you were at it.”

“Okay, Mom—take it easy with the brush. I’m not super into this girlie crap, but I really don’t wanna show up at the dance bald. And I was on the porch. Hop keeps it super clear of snow and it’s the perfect substitute for an indoor ramp.”

Billy gives her a skeptical look.

“Yeah, well, I’m being careful with your hair.” She sneers at him when he catches a knot. “Fine, I’ll be more careful, now. Sheesh.”

Once Max stops resisting, and Billy starts taking his time with her many tangles, the experience isn’t half bad. It’s actually almost enjoyable; not that either of them would ever admit it.

“So, did you pick out a dress?”

“No,” Max mutters, her cheeks going pink. “You know I hate dresses.”

“Yeah, Susan would’ve made you wear one…” Billy sighs, combing the hair from her eyes with his calloused fingertips. “Hey, how have you been doing? You know, without your mom?”

“I miss her sometimes,” she says quietly. “But the truth is, I’ve been missing her for a long time. She hasn’t been my mom since she and my dad split up. Maybe even before that. I don’t blame her. Well—that’s a lie. I blame her for marrying Neil. But I guess I got you out of that deal with the devil, so maybe I can forgive her someday.”

“You know, you could talk to Joyce and Hop about inviting her over for Christmas. It’s coming up pretty fast and I almost feel bad for her. Susan’s sticking around because she’s trying to stay close to you, but I can’t imagine she has that many friends, especially now that the whole town knows about our messy situation.”

Max sighs and meets his gaze in the mirror.

“My mom was never great at keeping friends. Even work friends. And… I found out at our last meeting that she had to move out of the house on Cherry Lane.”

Billy wonders if it’s too late to change the subject, because while it’s not entirely unexpected news, it’s definitely not good and it’s kind of bringing down the mood.

“Hm, I guess everything was in Neil’s name, huh?”

“Yup,” she says, popping the P. “And she probably couldn’t afford the rent payments on her own either.”

“So, uh…” He glances at her reflection as he smoothes her long locks over his palm. “Where’s she living now?”

“The trailer park, maybe?” Max huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I didn’t even know Hawkins had a trailer park. But, yeah. I think that’s where she ended up.”

“That’s kind of depressing,” he mumbles thoughtlessly. “It’s coming on Christmas and she lost everything. Her husband, her kid, her house and security. Fucking sucks.”

“Also fucking sucks that she still blames you for literally everything.”

“Max, you can’t know that…”

She tilts her head towards him, her gaze sharp as her hand moves to rest over his, stopping the brush.

“Billy—she does,” Max says firmly, her brows knitting together. “I’m not exaggerating. Not even a little. That time we met for mediation, or whatever? Susan had just been up to Indianapolis to visit Neil, and let’s just say she wasn’t exactly pleasant to talk to, or be around. Every other word out of her mouth was something nasty about you—how she was gonna sue the courts for allowing a pervert like you to continue living in the same house as me. Like you’re still being abusive and shit.”

He chews on his lower lip, and a lump forms in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Max. I know I didn’t always treat you right. I hate that I let myself take out my anger and frustration on you, like I did.”

“I know,” Max says quietly, giving his hand a squeeze. “But, honestly? It feels like a lifetime ago now. Feels like I have the old you back, or somebody even better. The person you could’ve become if your mom had taken you with her when she left Neil, when you were little.”

“Hm, but then we never would’ve met,” he points out. “Although, even if my mom had managed to take me, I woulda ended up back with Neil eventually.”

“Oh, right…”

Billy huffs out a sigh and swallows down his sadness.

“Well, whatever went down, it granted our fosters a longer term of custody, didn’t it?” He remarks, offering her a weak smile. “Look, Susan’s gotta really prove she can take care of you, and that means more than just providing a roof over your head. She’s going to have to be able to get you to school, and make sure your grades don’t slip—plus, she’s gotta be able to feed you.”

Max keeps her gaze on the medallion around his neck for a few moments—the one from his mom. Then her hand falls away from his own and she stares at the makeup on the vanity.

That’s when it hits him. Max signed him to chaperone tonight because she wants him there, and no other reason.

Maybe she’s afraid Susan might show up, or maybe it’s because she hasn’t been out of the house after dark in a long time. Either way, he’s not going to bother her about it anymore.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” he gently needles. “Like you said, I’m not my old, full-of-rage self. You can say anything and I’ll actually listen without instantly getting offended or upset.”

“Yeah…” she mumbles. “I know…”

Her wild hair now tamed, Billy sets about braiding it at the back. He hasn’t had much practice but he does his best, drawing on memories of watching his mom in her room while he sat on the bed, fascinated by her long, golden tresses. She used to look like a maiden from a fairytale and, as her hair grew longer, she always made him think of Rapunzel trapped in her tower. Only there wasn’t an evil witch keeping her prisoner; it was just her controlling husband.

“S’okay, Max,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to talk about it now. You should be getting excited, like El. And it doesn’t matter if you wear a dress or not, Sinclair’s still gonna be a wreck when he sees you.”

Billy chuckles, and Max finally looks up again, a small grin tugging on the corner of her mouth.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” she teases, turning slightly to check on his progress.

“I dunno, s’kinda nice,” he replies shrugging.

She passes him a scrunchy in dark blue velvet. It’s not her usual look, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s honestly just happy she might be getting into a more festive mood. Billy finishes fastening her braid before smoothing a few strays with a spritz of hairspray on his fingers. He then reaches to pull a few loose curls forward to frame her face.

“There—what do you think?”

“I look… Like a princess,” she murmurs, glancing at him through her lashes. “Hm, I think Steve might be turning you into a big softy.”

“Shut up,” he snorts.

Billy throws his arms around her and squeezes her fiercely, making her squeal.

“Get off me, you big dork!” she laughs.

Max screeches as he dips to try and kiss her cheek. As hard as she resists, Billy darts to meet her each time she tries to escape. Billy finally relents after he presses a single kiss to her temple.

“God, you’re as bad as the kittens when we need to trim their nails,” he huffs out, chuckling.

“Yeah, well. I come by it honestly,” she says wryly, shooting him a sideways look.

“Okay, fair,” he grins. “But, ah, speaking of Steve; I know you said something to him. You know, when all your friends were busy tackling me in the snow last weekend.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Max mumbles, picking up a rosy blush and dabbing a makeup brush into it.

“Uh, huh,” he hums. “So, you didn’t let on that you know about us being more than just friends?”

“Look, I just told him not to hurt you. That can still be as a friend, you know. I mean, I hear Tommy H basically spat in Steve’s face and spent months finding new ways to make his life problematic, and they were best friends for years.”

“Tommy H is problematic, period,” he mutters. “But, yeah—I get it. But you also see the repeating pattern here, right? Steve isn’t the one hurting people, it’s other people who keep hurting him; Tommy, Carol, Nancy, his parents. Even Heather Holloway jumped down my throat about him one time, too. But something tells me she was the one to fuck up whatever relationship they had, not him.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve entered the delusional phase of your romance where Steve’s a perfect angel and can do no wrong?” she teases, fluttering her lashes.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he says, snorting. “And take it easy with the makeup. I thought you said you weren’t a makeup girlie?”

“A little is okay, though. Right?”

“Yeah…” He sighs and takes a tissue to wipe off some of her blush. “That’s better. And… This is good, too.”

Max sits quietly while he picks up the eyeshadow pallet and dips his finger into a shimmery silver. He delicately pats his fingertip onto the peak of each of her cheekbones, then applies the shimmer to her eyelids and browbones. Next, he snatches the lipstick in a deep ruby shade and dabs that onto Max’s bottom lip. She presses her lips together after he’s done, and gazes at her reflection.

“Now you look like a princess,” he says softly.

The makeup is subtle, but just enough, and she gives his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks, Billy,” she murmurs, smiling. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, if the braid bugs you later, you can take it down. It’ll give your hair some nice waves.”

“No, I like it,” she says, squeezing his hand again. “And I like that you’re becoming a softy. It’s kind of like you’re the brother I didn’t know I always wanted. I mean, I wanted us to be closer, and not at each other’s throats all the time. I just don’t think I ever saw you as helping me get dolled up for a dance—with my stalker, no less.”

“Yeah, not sure I would’ve believed it if somebody told me a couple of months ago that we’d be doing this,” he admits, chuckling. “Or that I’d have an almost, sort of, boyfriend.”

“A super hot boyfriend, more like.”

“Yeah, well. We’ll see,” he adds, tugging on her braid. “Okay—you need to pick an outfit. Let’s go—we leave in an hour.”

“An hour’s plenty of time,” she says, waving him off. “Besides, you need to do El’s makeup and hair next.”

Billy shakes his head, though he’s grinning.

“Okay, Max. You go and pick out what you’re wearing and I’ll go find Ellie.”

“Deal!”

Max pauses at the door.

“I’ll meet you back down here, okay? I mean, I have to change my clothes, which involves taking these ones off.”

“Oh, right…” Billy can feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I’ll just go down and find El.”

She grins and hurries away, lighter than a few minutes ago, he can tell, and this makes him feel lighter too.

 

Downstairs, in the living room, El sits on the couch with a dreamy look in her eyes. The coffee table has been moved out of the way and Joyce is dancing with Will, presumably teaching him a few moves.

“Okay, Jonathan—stop!” Will laughs.

Jonathan crouches to get a different angle with the video camera.

“Nah, this is good stuff,” he says brightly. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Shouldn’t you be going to get set up at the gym?” Will whines.

“Oh, honey, just let him,” Joyce hums, giving her son a twirl. “One day we’ll be happy we have these little moments to look back on.”

“Okay, fine,” he mumbles, a grin slowly fighting onto his lips.

“I do not know how to dance either,” El says wistfully. Then she spots Billy leaning in the archway. “Can you show me?”

“Who—me?” Billy feels like a deer in headlights, his pulse picking up. “Uh, no. Maybe Jonathan can show you?”

“I’m a little busy,” Jonathan chuckles. “C’mon, Billy. You probably have better moves than I do, anyway.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Will teases, waving him closer.

Billy glances from Will to El and his gut twists with guilt.

“Okay, but then we have to do your hair,” he says, sighing.

El jumps off the couch, moving to meet him, and Joyce guides Will to make room beside them.

Billy takes a steadying breath when El’s toes bump his own and she holds out her arms. It’s not that he isn’t a good dancer, he just doesn’t slow dance that much, and this music isn’t exactly his vibe.

“Hands on my shoulders,” he instructs. “And I’ll put mine on your hips—just like Will and your mom are doing.”

El wrinkles her nose, and he thinks maybe he’s already fucked up, calling Joyce her mom. But if this is an issue, she doesn’t say anything and does what he asked.

“Stand a little closer, okay? But not too close. Then we’re basically gonna sway back and forth, or we can make a tiny square—feet together, then back as I step forward. Feet together, then I move back. See?”

El smiles as they move slowly, one step at a time.

“It’s middle school,” he adds, cupping her chin to bring her gaze up to his. “Don’t worry about your feet. The boys are bound to step on them a few times before they forgive out their own rhythm. And you don’t need to be fancy.”

“And when something more lively comes on,” Joyce adds, beaming. “You can huddle in a group with your friends and just let loose.”

As Joyce demonstrates, Will groans and covers his face. But soon he’s laughing, and so is El, when Billy joins her, bopping and banging his head like he’s thirteen again.

“Wow—nice moves, big brother,” Max drawls, crossing her arms over her royal blue blouse. “So stylish.”

“Billy was just helping us show El what school dances are like,” Joyce says, slightly out of breath. “Aw, you look really nice, sweetie. Those pants are great with your new shirt.”

“Thanks,” she says, a bit nervous as she looks down at herself. “I thought… I didn’t wanna wear a dress.”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Joyce says warmly.

“Your hair is so pretty!” El squeals. “Did Billy do it?”

“Yeah, he did. So, you know, if he can’t get a job at the garage by the arcade this spring, maybe he can work at the salon.”

“Ha ha,” Billy deadpans. “I really don’t think so.”

“But, you will do my hair—yes?” El asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, sure, kid. I guess Nancy isn’t here anymore?”

“She had to get home to wrangle Mike,” Jonathan explains, turning off the camera and rolling his shoulder. “I always forget how heavy this thing gets.”

“Luckily you’ll only be taking portraits with a tripod tonight,” Will says, smoothing down his sweater vest.

“Ugh, boys get off so easy,” Max complains. “You can wear whatever you want and your hair can look like it always does.”

“Hm, we could change your hair, too,” Billy offers, scratching his chin. “Maybe just a little mousse or something? Freshen up your look?”

Jonathan bumps shoulders with his brother, but Will looks nervous about it.

“Um, okay,” he says, looking from Jonathan to Max before finally meeting Billy’s eye. “Yeah, just, ah, a little something?”

“Cool—let’s go!” Billy shouts, hearing all three of them towards the stairs. “We’re against the clock, people.”

He can hear Joyce and Jonathan laugh fondly as the kids hurry upstairs.

“What about you, Joyce?” Billy asks, pausing. “Aren’t you meeting your man tonight?”

“Jim?” She asks, snorting and blinking fast. “Uh, yes—but it’s only Jim.”

“Okay, well, maybe for your next date-night we can make you up and drive him crazy.”

Joyce’s face flushes.

“I think Mom drives Hop crazy just as she is,” Jonathan muses. “You might give the guy a heart attack if you give her a super glamorous makeover.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Billy chuckles. “But she deserves to feel special, too. She’s been working really hard lately and it might be good for your mom not to be stuck wearing the same old dress every time they go out—or stay in.”

“I guess so,” he sighs. “I guess we just never really minded before.”

“Well, you can put a little effort into your appearance, every once in a while, without being totally conceited. That goes for you, too, lover boy.”

Jonathan scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with how I look?”

“Nothing—but your shirt has wrinkles in it, buddy.”

“Oh…” Jonathan hurries after him. “Do you have something better?”

Billy smirks.

“Lemme take a look. I’m sure I have something more to your style.”

{~~~~~}

Steve pulls up in the drop off zone and sets his parking brake. He turns towards Dustin to give him a once over, and grins. The kid looks so freaking adorable tonight with his little bowtie and his curly hair all styled; even if it is a little high.

“Looking good, Dee. Did you use the hair products, like I taught you?”

“Yeah, just like you said,” Dustin replies, beaming. “What do ya think? Am I irresistible or what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, biting back a chuckle. “The ladies are gonna be all over you.”

Dustin gives him a sexy growl, rolling his tongue, but it comes out sounding more like some kind of cartoon lion in heat.

“Yeah… Don’t do that, buddy.”

“Too much?”

Is this kid for real?

“Yeah—just a little.”

“Hm, kinda thought so.” Dustin frowns and looks down. “But I look okay, right? Be honest.”

“Yeah, Dee—you look great.” Steve pats his shoulder. “Now get in there and knock ‘em dead.”

“Thanks, man!”

Steve grins to himself as Dustin climbs out of the BMW and onto the curb.

“Do you need a ride home later?”

“Nah, I think we’re all going back to Will’s for a sleepover,” he calls, shivering a little against the cold. “Gonna break in his new basement—finally.”

“Oh, right. Well, have fun! You can tell me all about the dance tomorrow.”

Dustin flashes him a toothy grin and taps on the window. Steve leans over and rolls it down, giving him an expectant look.

“Are you gonna see Hargrove tonight?”

“What—no,” Steve sputters, waving him off. “I mean, we don’t have plans ‘cause we’re both kind of on standby for you guys.”

“Don’t use me as an excuse, Steve,” Dustin drawls, rolling his eyes. “You can see your boyfriend if you want to.”

Steve feels like his head might explode and ruin his leather interior.

“Don’t say that word; especially not here! What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh? So he is your—” Steve tries to kill Dustin with a glare. “Uh, friend who also happens to be a boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, smartass. I mean, maybe? Does that freak you out?”

Dustin shivers and hugs himself.

“Does it freak you out?” he shoots back,

Steve pauses, blinking at him.

“No…”

“You hesitated,” Dustin says, frowning. “Maybe work on that before you see him again.”

“It was only ‘cause you keep throwing me off with all your crazy questions.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he snorts, waving, before turning around and going inside.

Annoyed, Steve still keeps his gaze on Dustin as he enters the middle school gym. He can just see through some of the frosty windows, and can’t help but notice Nancy is serving punch at the refreshments table. The sight is a little ironic, though maybe this way she can make sure it doesn’t get spiked; unlike at Tina’s party.

Then Steve’s eyes land on somebody else; someone he wasn’t expecting to find here tonight.

Billy stands by the wall close to where Jonathan is snapping portraits of the kids. A smile plays on his lips as he tries to keep the goofballs in an orderly line. He looks right at home, and yet seems so out of place. He’s got those same perfect curls from the night they threw down, but Billy seems to lack the same confidence.

Fidgeting with his too-tight collar, and popping the top button, Billy’s foot taps on the floor; not to the music but to his own anxiety.

“What are you doing here, Hargrove?” He asks the empty air, his heart fluttering a little. “And, why didn't you tell me you got roped into chaperoning?”

That's when Steve realizes that several female teachers are checking Billy out, and they’re being anything but subtle about it.

“Oh, gross,” he scoffs. "Don't they know he’s only seventeen?”

A car horn beeps behind him, and Steve startles. He waves at them to pass around him. When they honk a second time, he groans and drives away from the drop-off zone.

Only Steve doesn’t leave the parking lot. No, he finds a spot and cuts the engine, too curious to go home to his empty house. Well, technically it’s not empty, his parents are actually home. But the way they pass each other like strangers these days, it might as well be.

Turning the key to keep the power and heat on, Steve clicks on the light over his head to check his appearance in the rearview mirror. He threw on some dark corduroy pants and a red cashmere sweater, which, if he’s honest, is just a regular outfit for him.

But he figures it’ll do for the dance he’s about to crash.

Hotel California plays as Steve walks in, making him feel a little lightheaded at how on the nose it is. In a way, since his very first encounter with Billy, it’s like he hasn’t been able to get the guy out of his head. Even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t, he could never be free of Billy Hargrove..

Confused ocean eyes snap up to meet his chocolate brown, and Steve offers him a charming grin.

“Steve?”

Oh, shit. Nancy’s seen him.

“Um, hey, Nance. This is, um, cute,” he says, pointing at some of the Snow Ball decorations. “Very… Glittery.”

“Yeah, it's nice,” she agrees, narrowing her eyes at him. “But what are you doing here? I don’t recall seeing your name on the volunteers list.”

Steve grins wider, nodding towards Dustin.

“I wanted to make sure Henderson got here okay.” His grin slowly fades when he realizes Dustin is sitting close to Mike with mirrored looks of disappointment. “Uh oh… What’s that about?”

“No idea.”

Mike spots El a second later and perks up. He glances at Dustin, then takes El’s hand as they move onto the dance floor.

“Okay, now he’s all alone,” Steve hisses through his teeth. “Poor guy.”

“He just got here, Steve,” Nancy says, brushing off his concern. “It’s fine. See—even Will found a girl to dance with.”

Steve looks over, catching sight of Will and a cute brunette. Then he spots Max and Lucas dancing, smiling with their eyes locked on each other.

“Huh, that’s nice. I guess.”

“Look, if you’re so worried, I’ll see if he wants to dance with me. Okay?”

“Are you kidding? He’ll think you’re pranking him.”

“If he sees you, he will,” she mutters, waving at him to move away. “Go hide yourself. Seriously, you’re such a party crasher. I should just report you to Mr. Clarke.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he gasps, a hand clutched to his chest in mock dread.

Nancy laughs, her permed hair bouncing and catching the light.

She’s as beautiful as ever but, for some reason, Steve doesn’t feel the same way he used to. He doesn’t have the undeniable urge to pull her into his arms, or cover her in kisses. No, he just sees her as she is; a girl he loved but lost.

And maybe that’s okay, if they can still be friends like this.

“Wouldn’t I?” she quips, smirking wryly.

“Okay, okay,” he relents, hands up. “I’ll hide. Just be careful with his fragile male ego.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she giggles.

Doing his best to keep out of sight, Steve slips out of the gym doors, ducking into the hallway. However, he can’t resist peeking through the small rectangular window to watch as Nancy approaches Dustin. Steve grins when the kid lights up and almost drags her onto the dance floor. They sway together, looking so sweet; and Steve has honestly never been prouder of either of them.

And, of course, other girls are looking, too, and becoming curious about the curly-haired boy dancing with the sophisticated older girl.

“That’s my guy,” he muses, his heart feeling fuller. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“What’re you doing?”

Steve’s heart skips and he staggers backwards, away from the gym doors. His whole face heats up as he turns to find Billy staring at him, shoulders squared.

Billy’s wearing a blue collared button-up tonight. It looks almost one size too small as it hugs his every curve. His pants are dark, either black or navy—it’s hard to tell in the low light—and his dress shoes look borrowed, probably from Hopper.

And, damn, he looks good.

“Shit—I thought you were a teacher.”

“Really, pretty boy?” Billy scoffs, a grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “Me—a teacher?”

“Yes, MisterHargrove,” he muses, his teeth running over his bottom lip, while his gaze wanders hungrily. “But I know we didn’t have a lesson tonight.”

Billy gives him a funny look, then laughs.

“God—not here, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve chuckles, stepping closer. “I just couldn’t resist. Speaking of which—you look really good.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Billy mumbles, suddenly ducking his head and looking away. “Thought I should make an effort. You know, so I didn’t embarrass Max. Only, I think it backfired. Some of the grown-ass women in there are giving me the heebie jeebies with their longing stares.”

“I don’t think Max has noticed,” Steve says, frowning in sympathy. “She’s a little preoccupied. But I’m sorry, man. That’s kind of upsetting.”

Billy grins weakly.

“Thanks. I mean, I like attention—but not this kind.”

“Guess it’s just the price we have to pay for being so hot,” Steve remarks, moving to peep through the window again.

“Sure, Harrington.” Billy snorts. “We,” he teases.

The song changes and ‘Every Breath You Take’ by the Police comes on. Steve can feel Billy press in closer, like he’s spying too, his hot breath ghosting over his neck and ear. But Steve doesn’t dare look over, afraid he won’t be able to keep from kissing him.

As the music swells, Lucas takes his chance and presses a kiss to Max’s lips. She smiles, cheeks flushing, and kisses him again.

A few feet away, Mike plays copycat and kisses El, taking her by surprise. Thankfully, El looks happy and grins, then she snakes her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Steve feels Billy step back, his mood shifting.

“You okay?” Steve asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Billy sighs and moves to lean on the wall across from the doors. “Sinclair’s an okay kid. Just… Sometimes? It sort of feels like we only just started being close—Max and I—and now she’s growing up fast. Like she might slip away soon.”

“Are you joking?” Steve joins him, bumping shoulders. “You’re the one who’s gonna graduate next year. Max isn’t going anywhere, Billy. She still needs her big brother; still needs you.”

“You think so?”

Steve lets out an easy laugh, carefully taking his hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Thanks,” Billy breathes, meeting his gaze. “Who knew you’d be the person who always makes me feel better?”

“I do?”

Steve’s heart squeezes a little, especially when Billy fans his thick lashes against his freckle dusted cheeks.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” he whispers.

When their eyes meet again, Steve finds himself leaning closer, as if caught in some inexplicable pull, unable to escape…

The loud bang of the gym door has them almost knocking foreheads, and a blur rushes past them.

Will tries a locked classroom door, then another. When a third door won’t open, the poor guy lets out a cry of frustration. As they walk over, Will slides down the closed door to sit on the floor, his knees drawn up and his head in his hands, hiding his face.

“Will?” Steve calls, knitting his brows together.

Billy rushes to Will’s side, kneeling beside the younger boy and resting a hand on his shoulder so gently that it makes Steve’s chest ache.

“Hey, Will,” he says softly. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I didn’t even wanna dance with that girl,” he mumbles tearfully, face still hidden. “I mean, Marcie’s nice and all—but I don’t care about her. I only danced with her because of Mike. I tried to ask him for an excuse, but he basically shoved me at her. Then he kissed her—in front of everybody!”

“Mike…kissed Marcie?” Steve asks, confused.

“No, Steve,” Billy gently corrects. “Mike kissed El.”

“Oooh, right. But—” Steve crouches down on Will’s other side. “Aren’t Mike and El sort of together?”

“Not specifically, no,” Billy sighs, giving Will’s shoulder a squeeze. “Mike’s been spending a lot of time with Will. Been super protective of him. So, getting pushed on some random girl all so he can dance with—and kiss—El… You can understand why Will’s upset.”

Steve nods, even before he actually understands. Even when he thinks he does, he still isn’t entirely sure.

“Lucas is with Max, Will,” he tries, unaware he’s failing spectacularly. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t still your friend."

Will peeks over his arms at him, glaring at him.

“I hate it here,” he whimpers. “I wanna go home.”

“That’s not it, pretty boy. Not even close,” Billy huffs, shaking his head. “Look, Will. Why don’t you come with me into the bathroom and we’ll splash some cool water on your face. Then, if you still wanna leave, I’ll go find your mom outside. Okay?”

“Yeah…okay…”

Will slowly gets to his feet and Billy drapes a comforting arm around him. Then Steve watches as they walk further down the hall before he stands up as well.

While Steve’s happy to see Billy being so supportive and compassionate with Will, he’s feeling a little something else—a kind of squirming in his gut. Could it be jealousy?

“Wait, that can’t be right…”

Steve scrambles to follow them, but he stays in the hall when they slip into the boys’ bathroom. He huffs out a sigh and leans on the wall, and vaguely wonders if maybe he should go and get Joyce. He finally decides, after some thought, to wait and see if Billy can change Will’s mind.

Because nothing’s lamer than having your mom come into your school dance to take you home.

{~~~~~}

Will slumps against the wall, his head low, as the music from the gym seeps into the boys’ bathroom.

Billy wets some brown paper towel under the tap. He purses his lips to keep from saying anything just yet, because he needs a little time to gather his thoughts. As close as he feels to Will, he isn’t actually the kid’s older brother—he has one of those—and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“Here, dab your eyes with this,” he says softly. “Wipe away those tear tracks, plus, it’s cold; it’ll help with any puffiness.”

“Uh, thanks,” Will mumbles, taking the paper towel from him and moving to stand in front of the mirror.

While Will presses the cool compress against his cheeks, Billy glances at the door, hoping Steve will discourage any other boys from walking in on them.

“I guess I should’ve known better,” Will mumbles as he pats under his eyes, sniffling. “I think maybe I just got my hopes up for some dumb reason. I mean, I know we’re all supposed to believe you and Steve are just buddies, but I know how he was there for you—helped you get out of your house after… Well, you know. And he’s stayed close to you; wanted to. Even if you get grumpy or upset with him, Steve still wants to be close to you.”

Billy snorts and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Steve can get moody and annoying too, though,” he mutters, averting his gaze. “But I don’t really see what my relationship with Steve has to do with you being so crushed tonight.”

“Because, Billy…”

Will lowers the pulping paper towel and turns his head, looking him straight on, and not at his reflection. It’s so direct and shows more confidence than Billy expected considering that Will was a weepy mess five minutes ago.

“Because…?” Billy hedges, raising his brows.

“I know we’re all supposed to pretend we don’t know,” Will says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we know, Billy. And don’t blame Max, okay? I’ve seen it myself—how Steve looks at you. It’s not how a friend looks at their friend. It’s how Jonathan looks at Nancy; and how Hop looks at my mom.” Will pauses, shooting him a sly grin. “So don't even bother telling me you two have never kissed, ‘cause I won’t believe you.”

“Steve…looks at me?” Billy feels a sudden flush run up his neck and over his chest. Then he steadies himself and focuses on the bigger issue. “But—hold on. Who knows we aren’t just friends?”

“Well, Max, and me,” he lists off, tossing the balled up paper towel into the garbage before tearing off a dry piece. “And Mom, and Hop. And I’m pretty sure Jonathan knows, but I’m not sure he’s said anything to Nancy, given that Steve’s her ex. ‘Cause if anybody's gonna tell her, it should come from Steve, dontcha think?”

It takes Billy a second or two to take in everything Will said. His head feels a little dizzy and he grips the counter to keep from losing his balance.

“I guess the weird thing is that I would’ve never felt like I could be myself—and so much as flirt with Steve—if it wasn’t for you and your family,” Billy says, huffing out a nervous laugh. “Without you, being who you are, your mom and brother wouldn’t be as accepting. And maybe Hop would’ve had second thoughts about convincing Joyce to let me live with you guys. God, Max even told me about the shit Susan was saying about me—which I’m sure she had zero problems with telling Hopper.”

It starts to feel like too much, the weight of it all, and Billy has to squeeze his eyes shut and clamp his mouth.

He doesn’t even know why his heart is pounding in his ears, or why his head is still spinning. Will’s on his side, after all, his family, too. Maybe it’s because he still feels like a fraud. Like all of this good fortune could still get taken away at any moment.

Even before he opens his eyes again, Billy can feel the shadowy figure standing behind him in the mirror. Only, as he blinks and squints against the lights, the shadow is him.

Billy’s own reflection stares back at him with icy contempt and repulsion.

‘Mistake… Pervert.’

Will grips his bicep, making Billy flinch but not pull away, and the small warmth bleeding through his sleeve is enough to chase away the ghoul in the mirror.

“Just breathe, Billy,” Will murmurs, offering him a gentle smile. “I didn’t mean to out you. Especially not in the middle school bathroom. Please—I’m sorry. I think I was just jealous. That’s not an excuse, but kind of how I was feeling. So, I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“No… I mean,” Billy takes a breath. “You don’t need to be jealous of me, kid. Honestly. If anything, I’m jealous of you. Mike’s a brat sometimes, but he’s also willing to stand up for you and stick by your side when things get crazy. Besides, he probably knows you better than anybody else. So, try not to take it too hard if he never returns those big feelings you’ve been having. Okay? Friends—real friends—they’re so hard to find.”

“Yeah…” Will smiles weakly, looking like he might start to cry all over again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The sound of the door creaking open has Will collecting himself. Thankfully, it’s only Steve. But, as he tries to say something, Mike comes barrelling past him.

“Here you are!” Mike cries. “What happened? Where did you go? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Yeah, Mike‘s looking for Will,” Steve says sheepishly, gesturing at the frazzled boy.

“I’m fine, Mike,” Will says, fondly rolling his eyes. “We were just having a chat.”

Mike gives Billy a rude look.

“In the boys’ room?” he asks, nose scrunching. “Dude, talk in the hallway or a classroom. People are gonna think you’re a predator, or something else equally as horrible.”

“Does your mouth ever stop flapping, or do you just say everything and anything that pops into that brain of yours?” Billy scoffs. “Calm down, Wheeler. People know I live with the Byers.”

“And you think that makes this less weird?” Mike snorts. “C’mon, Will. El wants to dance with you next.”

“I thought she was dancing with you?”

“Oh…” Mike’s face pales before he blushes. “I mean, we did—we danced. Now she’s dancing with Dustin.”

“Hmph, that must sting,” Will mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know, after you kissed her and everything.”

Mike winces and shuffles his feet, his cheeks going even redder.

“Oh, you, ah, saw that, huh?”

Will knits his brows together, looking hurt.

“Yeah, Mike. It was kind of hard to miss.”

“It was dumb,” he says, glancing up at Steve. “I told her I was sorry—that I didn’t mean to.”

“You apologized?” Steve snorts.

“It looked pretty bad,” Billy says, biting back a grin. “I mean, not exactly romantic. So, I think she deserved an apology.”

“Exactly—” Mike interrupts. “So, um, don’t be mad, Will. Okay? I apologized to Dustin, too. I just… Sometimes I just get sick of the other kids teasing me and saying I’m a loser frog-face. But I shouldn’t have kissed El just to make myself look less pathetic.”

“Wow, that was surprisingly self-aware of you, Wheeler,” Billy remarks, impressed. “Maybe you should forgive him, Will.”

Will softens and takes a step closer to Mike, his hand reaching, almost unnoticeably, towards him before pulling back.

“Yeah, okay. I guess it’s okay,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?” Mike hedges, hopeful. “I mean, your hair looks really nice tonight. I can see why the girls all wanna dance with you so badly.”

“You can?” Will laughs, a bit taken aback. “Um, thanks.”

Mike grins wider, relieved, and he takes Will’s hand, tugging him out of the bathroom.

“I guess they’re all good now?” Steve asks, turning to meet Billy’s gaze.

“I guess so?” Billy shrugs.

But when they get into the hallway, Will plants his feet, refusing to go back inside the gym.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asks, voice soft.

“I don’t wanna go in there. I don’t wanna dance anymore.”

“Is it that you don’t want to dance, or that you just don’t wanna dance with the girls?” Billy asks carefully, glancing at Mike.

“I dunno,” Will huffs, staring at the floor. “Both, maybe?”

It takes Mike a second, but Billy swears he can see the lightbulb when it goes off over the kid’s head.

“C’mon, Will. You can’t go home—not yet.”

….

Chapter Text

Mike pulls Will towards the classrooms down the hall, the same ones Will tried a little earlier. Strangely, one of the doors opens for him, and Mike drags Will inside.

Billy follows, wanting to keep an eye on them, especially since they aren’t supposed to be wandering around the school during the dance. He stops, suddenly, when the two boys move closer together, face to face.

Mike is talking to Will so softly that he can’t make anything out, but it’s such a sweet little moment that he doesn’t want to risk interrupting.

Steve must get distracted as well, because he bumps into Billy’s back.

“Shit—sorry,” Steve mutters.

“It’s fine, but keep quiet,” Billy throws over his shoulder.

“You don’t think they’re really gonna…”

Steve trails off, his jaw slack, as Mike takes one of Will’s hands and guides it to rest on his shoulder.

“Just like this,” Mike says, placing Will’s other hand on his other shoulder.

Will offers Mike a smile, shy but pleased, as he moves his own hands to sit at Will’s hips.

Billy smirks at the way Will plays along, like his mom and Jonathan didn’t just show him how to dance earlier that evening.

Cindy Lauper croons ‘Time after Time’, and the slow, melodic rhythm carries through the vents and ceiling tiles from the gym. Billy grins, and gets a little misty-eyed, as the pair sway to the music.

Then you say, "Go slow", I fall behind; The second hand unwinds

“Aw, they’re so cute,” Steve coos.

Billy gives him a sideways glance, knowing Steve can’t be trusted to behave himself and not get gooey.

“We should, um, go,” Billy whispers, lightly tapping Steve on his shoulder. “Give the kids some privacy.”

“Or…” Steve flashes him a grin and catches Billy’s hand, giving him a quick twirl between the row of desks. “We can follow their example and dance.”

If you're lost, you can look and you will find me; Time after time

“You’re being ridiculous, pretty boy,” Billy laughs, careful to keep his voice down. “I’m not dancing with you.”

“Oh, you wanna lead, is that it, tough guy?” Steve teases, easily shifting positions so that Billy is now leading. “Feel better?”

After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray; Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay…

Billy is about to argue when he feels Steve’s fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck and tickle the shell of his ear. Craving more, Billy presses in closer, his hands slipping lower to cup the curves of Steve’s ass.

“Hm, you’re definitely feeling something,” Steve hums, a flirty smile painting his lips.

Secrets stolen from deep inside; The drum beats out of time

Billy flexes his fingers, giving his cheeks a squeeze.

“Sorry—are you opposed to dirty dancing? ‘Cause that’s the only way I like it.”

Before Steve can reply, Billy moves one hand to his lower back and gives him a salacious dip that presses their groins together. Steve lets out a throaty laugh, his cheeks flushing, as he comes back up.

They continue their slow dance, gazing into each other’s eyes, until it feels as though they’re entirely alone. Then, when the final chorus swells, Billy dips Steve again.

If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting; Time after time

This time, the drop is slower and more intentional, and Billy swings Steve’s body in a deep crescent before bringing him back up; all the while, cradling his partner in his strong, capable arms.

Time after time…

Steve meets his gaze with heavily lidded eyes as he returns. Both lost in the music, and each other, Steve tilts his head and leans in. So-soft lips capture Billy’s mouth in a heated kiss, and he can’t help but open up to him, teasing with his tongue and inviting him deeper.

“—The fuck!”

Billy snaps his head up, almost banging teeth and noses before falling backwards over a desk as he throws himself away from Steve.

“Mike—don’t!” Will hisses.

“What’re you doing?” Mike continues, whisper-shouting. “You’re fucking kissing him? You used to date my sister, for Christ’s sake! What’s wrong with you, Harrington?”

Billy must be on the verge of a panic attack, but he still catches some of what Mike’s saying, and how his anger seems to be targeted at Steve.

“Calm down, Mike,” Steve says sternly, his hands up. “Think about what you’re saying—very carefully.”

“Uh, I’m saying what I see; and it’s super messed up!”

“We were just having a nice time. Just like you and Will. You guys were sharing a dance, and so were we.”

Pulling himself together, Billy suddenly remembers Will. Looking past Mike, Billy can see that Will has backed up behind the teacher’s desk, hugging himself.

“Excuse me, but me and Will were only dancing and goofing off. We weren’t playing tonsil hockey, thank you very much—you fuckin’ sicko!”

“Mike—stop!” Steve cries, lunging to grab ahold of his shoulders to give them a gentle but firm shake. “Stop it—I mean it. And keep your voice down before somebody comes barging in here and you guys get suspended—or worse.”

“Let me go, first,” he growls, wriggling.

“Promise you’ll calm down, and I’ll let go,” Steve says, evenly. “But be quiet. Do it for Will, even if you don’t give a shit about yourself.”

“Wha—Will?”

Mike blinks at him, a look of sheer horror coming over his face. He slowly turns around, spotting Will with Billy, and Mike looks like he might shatter into a million pieces.

“No… Will…” Mike shuffles his feet forward, his hand outstretching. “God, I’m sorry. You know I don’t mean anything by what I said. It’s just—Steve freaked me out, okay. It’s not like I hate, you know, people who are…”

The last word dies on Mike’s tongue as Will hides his face in the front of Billy’s shirt.

“It’s okay, Will,” Billy murmurs. “You’re okay.”

“I didn’t…” Mike looks like he might actually vomit. “Will… No. I didn’t mean it. I… Fuck—I’m so sorry,” he warbles.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to your own thoughts and leave Ted out of it,” Steve grumbles. “Jesus, kid. Did you go temporarily insane or what?”

“I…” Mike shakes his head so violently that it might fly off his neck. “I don’t know…”

“Talk to me, Will?” Billy coaxes softly. “He didn’t mean it like the way it sounded. You know he didn’t.”

“Wanna… Go… Home…” Will sobs brokenly.

“Okay,” he murmurs, giving Steve an apologetic look.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go and find Joyce,” Steve says, huffing out a sigh as he lets go of Mike. “And, Michael? It goes without saying, but breathe a word of anything you just witnessed and I will murder you. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Mike mutters, wiping his eyes with his sleeve cuff.

Billy feels bad for the kid, but not as bad as he feels for Will. As soon as Steve leaves, Mike takes a few more steps towards them, and Will presses closer to Billy.

“I didn’t mean to say that. Will… Please… Forgive me?”

“He could’ve said a lot worse,” Billy says, rubbing Will’s back to try to soothe him. “And look, I get it. Mike got mad at Steve because the idea of him liking guys as much as he likes girls is pretty damn confusing. And all anybody ever tells us is how wrong that is—boys liking boys. But I also know that Mike’s better than that; he just let his emotions overrule his head. And, trust me, I know better than anybody how easily shame can turn into anger. But he’s your best friend, Will.”

Will finally peeks out at Mike from under his bangs, sniffling, his eyes red.

“I didn’t… I wasn’t upset with you, Will,” Mike murmurs. “I’m not even mad at Billy—I swear.”

“Take a few deep breaths for me Will,” Billy says when Will starts hiccuping. “C’mon, kid. Nobody got hit, and nobody died. Mike just got confused and angry. It happens. He doesn’t hate you—or Steve; right, Mike?”

“Of course not,” Mike says quietly, shuffling his feet even closer. “Will… I’d never hurt you, or your feelings—not on purpose. It was just a shock.”

“A shock is swearing, Mike,” Will manages, gulping air. “But you just kept yelling at Steve. Billy… He banged up his leg and arm—‘cause you scared him.”

Billy feels a sting on the back of his leg, under his dress pants, and a bruise forming on his elbow. He kind of forgot about his swan dive, and now feels a little embarrassed.

“I, um…” Mike meets Billy’s eye. “I’m sorry, Billy. I guess I kind of ruined your first kiss with Steve, huh?”

“It’s okay, kid,” he replies, snorting. “It wasn’t exactly our first. Maybe just our first kiss in front of anybody else.”

“Oh…” Mike blinks, and it’s pretty obvious he’s trying his best not to scrunch his face in disgust. “Um, okay…”

“Mike?”

Both of them turn towards Will.

“Yeah, Will?”

“I’m not mad,” he says, sounding small. “I just… You scared me, too. I never thought I’d hear you get so angry about, uh, that kind of thing.”

“I hate it when bullies like Troy and James call you names and imply you’re…” Mike pauses, huffing out a breath. “But I don’t care. I mean, if you are, or if you aren’t, you’re still my best friend. Nothing’s gonna change that. But the name calling and slurs aren’t right; and I shouldn’t have yelled at Steve, like I did. Because you’re the kindest, gentlest person I know, and you don’t deserve to be hated just for being different. Nobody does. Especially when so many so-called normal people in this town are the actual worst.”

Will brightens and lets out a wet laugh.

“Yeah, normal people do kind of suck,” he admits, grinning. “Just swear to me you won’t ever say any dumb shit like that again, okay?”

“Promise,” Mike murmurs, smiling.

As Will lets go of Billy, he throws himself at Mike, hugging him tightly. It takes Mike a second to encircle Will with his own arms but, when he finally reacts, it’s without hesitation.

While it’s still unclear to Billy if Mike has even a remote inkling that he might have deeper feelings for Will, he decides that, for now, it really doesn’t matter. He’s just relieved they’ve made up.

Then Billy remembers Steve went to get Joyce.

“Do you still wanna go home, Will?”

“Oh, um, no…?” Will blinks and his eyes go wide. “Do you think Steve got my mom already?”

“I’ll go and check. But maybe you guys should get back inside the dance before Mr. Clarke, or one of the other teachers, notices you’re missing.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mike says, glancing at Will.

They move towards the classroom door, but when Billy swings it open he comes face to face with Steve.

“Fuck—you nearly scared the shit out of me,” Billy hisses.

Steve jumps back, and clutches his chest.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he retorts, huffing out a strained laugh.

{~~~~~}

Steve stares at a dance poster, then checks his watch, wondering how much longer he should hang around. Then the door flies open and Billy almost walks right into him.

“Fuck—Stevie. Why’re you just standing out here like some creepy stalker? I thought you were going to get Joyce?”

“Well, I was. But then I thought maybe we could convince Will to stay, because if he leaves then El probably has to leave. Plus, I figured Mike would sort his shit out and grovel.”

Steve grins at him, rocking onto the balls of his feet and sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

“So? Did Mike beg for forgiveness yet?” he needles, wagging his brows.

“Yeah, he did,” Billy admits, eyeing him weirdly. “Stop looking so pleased with yourself. You realize you failed the assignment, right?”

“Yeah, but by not getting his mom I saved him any possible humiliation.”

Billy laughs and shakes his head.

“Okay, pretty boy. You win.”

“Um, could you two move a little?” Mike asks, popping his head out by Billy’s shoulder. “We need to get back to the gym.”

“Yeah, room’s all yours,” Will says, grinning wryly. “You know, in case you two need some alone time.”

“Gross, Will.”

Steve feels an ugly pit form in his gut, or maybe it’s the same one from just before, when Mike balked at him for kissing Billy, it’s just getting bigger—and harder.

“It’s not gross,” Will mutters, pinching Mike’s arm. “It’s sweet.”

“Hey, if you think watching Jonathan make-out with Nancy isn’t gross, you win,” Mike argues as they walk down the hall. “But, if you think it is, then by that logic, so’s seeing Billy and Steve—‘cause as much as I loathe the idea, Billy’s basically your brother now, too.”

“Oh, right.” Will pauses as they reach the doors and looks at them over his shoulder. “Ew, gross,” he mutters, scrunching his face.

“Thank you!” Mike cries, vindicated at last.

“So, they’re terrible,” Steve mutters, forcing a snicker, and thumbing at the boy as they disappear from view. “But it was kind of cute how Mike labeled you a Byers. Or, is it a Hopper? That part kind of confuses me.”

“You and me both,” Billy snorts. “But yeah, I guess it is kind of sweet.”

Steve stops a couple of feet from the gym and reaches to smooth Billy’s shirt collar. Not because he’s ashamed of being the one who messed it up, but because he really needs an excuse to touch Billy, and ground himself.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so? I mean, I’ve been called way worse than a sicko,” Billy teases. “You got off pretty easy.”

Steve frowns, and that pit in his stomach grows some sharper edges.

“No, I mean your leg and whatever else you knocked on that desk when you catapulted away from me.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m basically indestructible, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Don’t be cute,” Steve says, gingerly touching his arm, making Billy wince. “See—it hurts.”

“It’s just gonna be a big bruise, Steve. Relax. Besides, I did it to myself.”

“I know,” he sighs and rubs Billy’s shoulder. “I still feel bad for you, though.”

“Well, maybe you can help me to feel better,” he suggests, leaning in and dropping his voice. “Was thinking about that offer you made—that I could escape to your house if I needed some breathing room.”

“My house?” Steve leans away without even realizing it, but Billy simply leans closer. “Oh, um. My parents are home tonight. At least—I assume they are. Because they’re in town.”

“And I’m sure there’s somewhere in that great big house of yours that we could hide away and not be seen… Or heard.”

A couple of girls come out of the gym, making Steve jump. They give them weird looks as they giggle and head towards the bathrooms.

“But we don’t have to,” Billy says, sighing. “Think about it—but I need to go and pretend to chaperone now. Just let me know before you leave.”

“Leave…?”

“Yeah, pretty boy. You’re not exactly supposed to be here, you know.”

Steve smiles weakly and looks down the hall at the exit sign, his feet absently walking him towards it.

“Um, yeah. Okay. I guess I’ll go, then.”

“Wait,” Billy jogs a few feet to meet him. “Should I come by, or…?”

Steve reaches to tuck one of Billy’s golden curls behind his ear, and his chest aches too much to say no.

“Yeah, Bee. Come by,” he murmurs, grinning. “I’ll leave the sliding door open. Just come through the backyard, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Billy pauses, his cheeks pink. “Uh, I’ve never been to your house before. It’s, like, a block over from Tommy’s, right?”

Steve huffs out a chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s the big one at the end of the lane—looks a bit like a compound with its small windows and three car garage. And there's a key for the gate to the yard under a fake rock, but… I’ll just leave it unlocked for you.”

“Thanks, pretty boy.”

Watching Billy disappear into the gym, Steve sighs and digs his toe into the old linoleum floor.

“What’re you getting yourself into?” he thinks.

The truth is, Steve would give Billy the whole world if he could, the moon and the stars, too. But Mike’s raw reaction affected him more than he cares to admit, even to himself, and maybe seeing Billy tonight—essentially alone—will give them a chance to talk.

Because Steve promised he was in this for real, and that he isn’t going anywhere. And he definitely intends to keep that promise.

 

Steve stops at Melvald’s on the way home.

Somehow, along the way, his inner dialogue on how to go about talking things out, shifted to them having sex tonight. Sex he isn’t even sure how to approach—from any angle. But maybe Billy can fill in the blanks for him, and take the lead.

If their little dance was anything to go by, Billy’s proven he can take charge pretty well.

Beyond grateful that Joyce isn’t working tonight, Steve sets a couple of bottles of lube, some breath mints and a chapstick on the counter. Thanks to his breakup with Nancy, he has more than enough condoms stashed in his room.

Donald Melvald eyes his purchases as he rings them through, a smirk playing on his mouth.

“Saturday night, huh?” the man muses.

“Uh, yeah. Guess it is,” Steve hums in response.

“Need anything else?” Donald asks, nodding discretely at the display behind him.

Steve instinctively licks his lips, but he isn’t looking at the condoms.

“Yeah, can I get a pack of Marlboro Reds? I’ve got ID if I need it.”

“Eighteen already, Harrington?” Donald asks, shaking his head as he grabs a pack off the shelf. “Where does the time go?”

“No idea—but please don’t ask about my plans for college, because I honestly don’t have a clue and it stresses me out; you have no idea how much,” Steve rambles before chuckling. “Sorry, Don. I didn’t mean to sound so defensive.”

“No worries, kid,” he says easily. “Neither of my boys knew what they wanted to do when they finished high school. Unfortunately for me, though, neither of them wanted to stay in Hawkins and take over the family business.”

“Bummer,” Steve sighs, fishing money out of his wallet. “But, hey. Maybe one of Joyce’s kids will take an interest. She’s got a lot of them, these days.”

“Don’t I know it.” Donald grins and hands him back his change. “I mean, I always knew Joyce was sweet on Jim Hopper, ever since they were kids, but I never could’ve guessed they’d end up like the dang Brady Bunch. Do you know the Hargrove kids they took in? Rumours in this town can be so misleading.”

“Hm, yeah,” Steve sighs and takes his bag. “Never trust a rumour, that’s for sure. But, ah, yes. I know both of them and they’re actually really great kids. They certainly didn’t deserve to be treated like they were; by their own parents, no less. So, if anybody says otherwise, you know they’re talking out of their asses.”

“Good to know,” Donald hums, tapping the counter and shutting the register. “Well, you have a good night, Steven. Thanks for the chat—and try not to get into too much trouble.”

Steve bites back a laugh as the man throws him a wink.

“Thanks, Don. You, too.”

{~~~~~}

“So, did you find Steve?”

Billy can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous look Nancy’s giving him. Is she trying to pimp him out too?

“Yeah, I found Steve,” he says, leaning closer, trying to talk over the music and keep his voice low at the same time. “What about it?”

“Oh, he found Steve, alright,” Mike smirks, as he passes them with Will in tow.

“Oh, yeah?” She grins and bumps shoulders with him. “Well, I think it’s sweet, how you two are becoming thick as thieves.”

Billy braces himself for some other kid to come out of the crowd and make a smart remark. Mercifully, there isn’t any new commentary.

“Jonathan told me you helped Steve get a B on his world history test this week,” Nancy adds, beaming. “That’s incredible.”

“Steve told me he kept waiting for his teacher to call him up and accuse him of cheating,” Billy relays, snorting. “Good thing for him, that guy gave up caring a while ago.”

“It’s still pretty amazing,” she retorts, touching his arm. “Where is he now?”

“Steve?” Nancy nods. “Oh, he went home. I’ll probably catch up with him later. You know, save myself from a night of rowdy teenagers.”

“God, they’re either going to be wired until dawn or crash as soon as they get home,” she laughs. “I invited Jonathan back to my house. My parents should be in bed, and Holly never bothers us, she’s such an angel.”

“Good idea,” he hums, wincing as the party mass together and bop up and down to some pop song Billy doesn’t recognize over the loud chatter. “Give him a break after hours of snapping pictures. Your boy could probably use a nice massage.”

Nancy blushes and giggles, playfully hitting his arm.

“Stop,” she huffs, though she’s still laughing. “We’re supposed to be discouraging things like that.”

“Here—yes. Not at home,” he points out, smirking.

“Maxine!”

Billy’s head snaps towards the gym doors and his eyes dart around.

“Hey, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Nancy asks, tilting her head.

“Maxine—where are you?”

Now Billy’s sure of it; and so is Nancy.

“Oh, no,” Nancy mumbles. “She wouldn’t come here, would she?”

“Maybe Susan didn’t think anybody would be here with Max, and she could catch her alone,” Billy says hurriedly, pressing his way through the crowds of hyperactive kids. “By anybody, I mean, Hop or Joyce, or me,” he clarifies over his shoulder.

By the time Billy gets close enough to Max, Mr. Clarke is intercepting Susan. She looks rough, her hair loose and unkempt, kind of like how her daughter’s looked earlier, before Billy brushed out the tangles. Susan’s makeup is smudged and her coat is zipped crookedly, and she appears to be wearing only one glove.

“Maxine—baby! Come outside with me, okay?”

“Mrs. Hargrove, I’m very sorry,” Clarke interrupts, moving in front of her. “You can’t be here.”

“I’ll leave just as soon as my daughter comes with me,” she says firmly, trying to press past him.

“Mom?”

“Just let your teacher handle it, Max,” Billy says, his hand on her shoulder, ready to stop her from intervening, or running off. “Ignore her. She shouldn’t be here.”

“Maxine is my little girl,” Susan says loudly. “And I don’t believe it—she was dancing with that boy! Why didn’t you stop him?” Her voice raises, almost manic. “Don’t touch her! And—you! Get away from her Billy!”

That’s when Billy realizes that she’s referring to Lucas as ‘that boy’, and his blood boils.

“Hey, Sinclair, why don’t you and the others go hang closer to Jonathan, okay? We’ll handle this.”

“No, Billy!” Max cries, interjecting before Lucas can say anything. “I’ll go. If just to get her to fucking leave.”

Billy tries to stop her, but Max gets past him.

“Maxine, baby… Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?”

“No, Mom. The only person doing any damage to me right now is you,” she grumbles.

“Max…”

“It’s okay, Mr. Clarke,” Billy tells him, although he doesn’t feel great about it. “Max won’t leave the school, she only wants to get her mom out of the dance.”

“Okay, good idea,” Clarke says, nodding as he hurries after them. “Stay here, kids,” he adds, addressing the boys over his shoulder.

To Billy’s amazement, they stay. Maybe because El’s with them tonight, or maybe because they know Max doesn’t want them witnessing her drama.

“Okay, Mom—what?” Max mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

Billy has to squint against the brighter lights in the hallway, and so does Max, but Susan actually lifts a hand to shield her eyes.

“Baby, I came to get you,” Susan says, warbling. “I’ve got my car outside and we can just go.”

“Go?” Max huffs. “Go where?; because in case you forgot, I live with the Byers now.”

"That was only temporary, sweetheart,” she replies, smiling in an uneasy way. “Look—don’t worry about your things, okay? We’ll figure it out. Here…” Susan starts to unzip her coat, but the zipper gets stuck. “You can wear my coat to keep warm.”

“I have my own coat, Mom,” Max retorts, taking a step back, towards Billy. “And I’m not going anywhere with you. You aren’t even supposed to talk to me without one of my guardians present; and Billy doesn’t exactly count.”

“Good—he shouldn’t count,” Susan spits, throwing Billy a withering look. “I told Chief Hopper to keep him away from you. A lot of good that did. That man probably knows that black boy was gonna dance with you tonight, too.”

“His name is Lucas, and he’s my boyfriend,” Max declares, her eyes flashing dangerously. “So why don’t you give up on whatever this is and go home?”

“Yes—home!” She says brightly, reaching for Max as she recoils. “I wanna take my girl home. You won’t need your winter coat in California, Maxine. Don't you miss it? The beaches; the ocean; your friends?"

“I have new friends here, Mom. Better friends! And Billy matters. He’s been my one constant since you forced us to move here. And, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry the man you married turned out to be this giant piece of shit, but taking his side isn’t really helping me—or you.”

By the time she finishes, Max is trembling and tears streak her face. Susan doesn’t seem to care much, and grabs Max’s arm, yanking on it.

“Oow—let go of me.” Max tries to wrench her arm free. “You stink like a brewery—there’s no way in Hell I’m getting in a car with you!”

“Stop whining, Maxine. I know what’s best for you, not them!”

“Billy!”

“That’s enough, Susan,” Billy barks, moving closer but not daring to lay a finger on his step-mother. “You’re hurting her; Max is scared of you right now!”

“Mrs. Hargrove, please let go of your daughter’s arm,” Mr. Clarke orders, glancing at Billy. “She doesn’t want to go with you; and I can’t allow you to take her.”

“Let’s go, Maxine. These people don’t matter. Nobody matters but you and me.”

Max wriggles out of her mom’s grasp, tearing the sleeve of her new blouse in the process. She ducks behind Billy, and he plants his feet—and Susan whips around, backhanding him across the face before Billy even registers she’s raised her hand.

It’s nothing new, except for maybe Susan is the one slapping him instead of Neil. The jewel in her ring cuts into his cheekbone and he can feel blood trickle down his skin as the stinging subsides a little.

Suddenly Hopper is running into the school with Nancy and Joyce not far behind him. He never saw Nancy slip out, but Billy was fairly distracted by the mad woman trying to kidnap his little sister.

Susan shrieks and pounds her fists into Hopper’s chest as he wrangles her and begins reading Susan her rights for assaulting a police officer, and breaking the terms of her guardianship restrictions.

—And for vandalizing private property.

“What did you do, Mom?” Max cries, tucked into Joyce’s arms.

“I couldn’t have that monster following us!” Susan wails. “I had to make sure he couldn’t.”

“It’s your car, Billy,” Nancy says quietly as she wraps her arms around herself. “She smashed up your Camaro; I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, kid,” Hopper adds, slipping cuffs onto Susan’s wrists. “We heard the sound of breaking glass, but by the time Joyce and I saw the state of your car Susan had taken off. I figured she went home, but then Nance came and got us.”

“Come on, Max,” Joyce coaxes. “Let’s go find the other kids and head home, okay?”

Max nods tearfully and goes with her, glancing at Billy before going inside the gym. Even Mr. Clarke gives him a pitiful look as he holds the door for them, before going inside.

“I gotta take her in, but I’ll come back for you later, Billy,” Hopper manages, still struggling to keep the thrashing woman under control. “Cool it, Susan—it’s over. You’re done here. You can sleep it off in the county drunk tank.”

“I wish your father had actually killed you!” Susan spits at Billy, her hair flying in her face. “At least if Neil had ended your sinful, wasted life, he’d deserve to be in prison—and I’d have the comfort of knowing you couldn’t harm my sweet baby anymore.”

“Lady; what part of ‘anything you say or do can be used against you’ don’t you understand?” Hopper huffs. “Seriously, stop talking.”

Billy feels numb as he stands in the hallway, listening to his step-mother scream and carry-on until Hopper gets her out of the school. Then he feels something soft against his cheek, and flinches.

“Sorry…”

Nancy offers him a gentle smile as she dabs the blood off his face with a tissue. He hadn’t even realized she was still there.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks quietly, his eyes stinging as he blinks back tears.

“I just…” She shrugs. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I also didn’t want your blood to stain your collar. Plus, this sucks. All of it.”

“Um, thanks…”

Billy doesn’t try to say anything else, afraid he might start blubbering in front of her.

“I have to stay and help with cleaning up, but—” She presses the tissue more firmly against his cheek. “—You should go to Steve’s house. I know Max signed you up, and everything, but I think Hopper and Joyce can take her home.”

“But… Max needs me,” he says, meeting her gaze.

“I think she needs some space, and her friends. And you can use that break you were talking about.”

What Nancy doesn’t say is how Max clung onto Joyce just now, and not him, but Billy can tell they’re both thinking it.

“And…” She cups his jaw, her eyes softening as she grins. “Steve’s really good at getting you to forget about all the bad shit in your life. It’s one of his many underrated talents.”

“Hm, too bad you weren’t as in love with him as he was with you,” he quips, grinning ruefully.

Nancy glances away sheepishly, but she doesn’t let go.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she murmurs. “Too bad, I mean. But, hey. I know he’ll find that perfect someone, someday. Get to have his white picket fence and a bunch of kids running in the yard, maybe. It's just that…” She removes the tissue and crumples it into her palm. “It was never gonna be with me.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he mumbles, a lump forming in his throat.

Deep down, Billy knows it probably won’t be with him either, given that he doesn’t exactly fit the criteria of trophy wife.

 

Billy sits on the curb outside as kids start filtering out of the dance. He shivers against the cold, his gaze locked on his Camaro. Poor girl didn’t deserve such a ruthless beating. And yeah, the irony isn’t lost on him that he can have more compassion for his car than he ever had for himself.

Someone comes to stand beside him, and Billy knows who he is just by worn leather and of their boots.

“You want a ride home with us?” Jonathan asks, adjusting the camera bag on his shoulder.

“Nah, Hop said he’d come back for me. Probably wants a statement or some shit,” he says easily, sniffling against the cool night air. “But thanks, man.”

Billy catches Joyce walking past with Max tucked under one arm. Jonathan gives his mom a nod, and she offers Billy a gentle smile.

“Don’t get too cold, honey,” Joyce says kindly.

“I’ll be okay—”

Max runs over to him, hugging him around the shoulders.

“It’s okay, MadMax,” he mumbles into her ear. “Go and have fun. Don’t let her ruin your good time. Then she wins.”

“Thanks, Billy,” she says breathily. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll get Hop to drop me at Harrington’s,” he says, patting her back before she finally stands up. “Just wanna forget about my poor baby for a while, ya know.”

“Yeah,” she says sadly, glancing at the cracked windshield. “She’ll be okay, though. She’s pretty resilient, just like her owner.”

Billy chuckles, “Let’s hope so.”

He gets up from the curb and goes to unlock his trunk just as Hopper pulls up in his cruiser. He honks lightly at Joyce, and Billy pretends not to look as the pair share a kiss through his driver’s side window.

Billy grabs his bag out of his trunk and locks up again, patting the hood of the car before moving away.

“I’ll have your car taken to the garage in the morning,” Hopper says as he gets in. “Should get a good deal if I take her.”

“Guess it pays to know the Chief of Police, huh?” Billy muses.

“You know it.”

“Is, uh, Susan okay?”

“I mean, she’s landed herself in a world of trouble, but yeah. She’ll live; if that’s what you’re asking.”

Billy smiles weakly, hugging his bag, even after he buckles in.

“Do I need to file a report, or whatever?”

“Not tonight,” Hop says, patting his shoulder. “Besides, I witnessed the damage myself, so I’ll pretty much just need you to sign something declaring ownership of the car in question. And, uh…” He looks Billy over. “Whatever happened in the school gym between Max and her mom.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So, am I taking you home, or did you have other plans?”

For a second or two, Billy considers going home and calling Steve once he gets there. But something makes him stick to his plan. Maybe it’s the need to distance himself from the night’s madness; or maybe it’s because the temptation to relive the moment when they were dancing is too great.

“Harrington’s,” he replies simply. “Take me to Steve’s house—please.”

“You’ve got it, kid,” Hopper hums.

{~~~~~}

Steve drives the rest of the way home, remembering to stop and unlock the gate to the backyard. As he goes inside with his haul, he detours to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

Only, as he flicks the light-switch, Steve gets startled by his mother standing at the open fridge.

“Jesus—Mom?” he cries, his Melvald’s bag rustling as he catches it; after nearly dropping it. “Why’re you in here without any lights on?”

“Where do we keep the limes, Steven?” she asks dryly. “And the refrigerator has a light, dear.”

“Uh huh…” Steve sighs and scrubs a hand over his mouth before setting his bag down. “Okay, well, the limes are in the bottom drawer, with the lemons.”

“Ah ha—there they are! Thank you, Steven” she hums, dipping low and plucking one out of the drawer. As she rinses the lime under the tap, his mother gives him a funny look. “You’re home early. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no. I mean, everything’s fine.”

“Did little Dustin make it to his dance in time?”

Steve blinks at her, amazed.

Margaret Harrington has always had a perfect hourglass figure and the same thick, chestnut hair as his own. Although he has his dad’s strong jaw and Roman nose, his mom is where he gets his looks, if he’s honest. She looks especially beautiful in this moment, under the gauzy light over the sink and without a single drop of makeup.

Why she thinks her husband would ever stray is beyond him.

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss,” Margaret snorts. “I listen when you talk; most of the time.”

“Yeah, but you know his name is Dustin, that’s super unexpected, Mom.”

“I might not understand why you’ve taken such an interest in this little friend of your girlfriend’s brother, but you seem happy whenever you say you’re going to hang out with him. So, who am I to judge? Besides, loneliness is a silent killer, my love.”

Steve arches an eyebrow as she gently pats his cheek. Then he notices the martini glass on the kitchen island, and he realizes her rosy mood is most likely thanks to a few drinks.

“Okay, Mom. Uh, thanks. I’ll try not to be lonely. And—yeah. Dustin got to his dance okay.”

“Good,” she hums, dropping a razor thin slice of lime into her drink. “But no plans to see Nancy?”

“Uh, no…”

He knits his eyebrows together, trying not to let her get to him—because instances like this are why he knows she doesn’t listen to him half the time.

“No?” she asks, sipping her martini.

“Mom—Nancy broke up with me, like, six weeks ago. I know I told you that.”

Margaret hums as she swallows, and picks out one of the bottles from his bag.

“I hope this isn’t a sign that you’ve given up and plan to spend the winter hibernating and satisfying yourself.” She pauses, wrinkling her nose as she drops the lubricant. “Because you’re far too attractive for such a sad fate, Steven. Surely any girl would be thrilled to be with you.”

“Not everything is about sex, Mother,” he huffs, his face heating up as he shoves his purchase back in his bag. “Now, if you don’t mind, I thought I might heat up some of the leftover linguini.”

His mom peeks at him over her drink and winces.

“What—are you gonna tell me pasta’s too fattening or something?”

“No, dear,” she sighs, tapping her red nails on her glass. “I believe your father ate the rest of it.”

“Seriously?” Steve throws the fridge door open and dramatically checks the shelves before slamming it shut again. “Fine. That’s great. What happened to going to the club for dinner?”

“We decided to go tomorrow for brunch,” she says, taking another sip. “Oh—you’ll join us, won’t you, love? They’re going to have that gingerbread drink you like so much—and I know you love their French toast.”

Steve hangs his head, his stomach growling.

“Yeah, okay. Maybe. But I have a friend coming over later, so I might have to take a raincheck if he stays over. That’s still okay, right?”

“For you to give us a raincheck on the club?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Yes—no,” he huffs, turning to meet her eye. “If my friend stays over?”

“That depends…” Margaret leans on the island and a sly grin curves her lips. “Do we know this friend of yours?”

“You, uh, haven’t met him yet,” he says, looking inside the fridge again so he doesn’t squirm under her curious gaze. “He’s a teammate of mine. His name’s Billy. He’s, um, probably gonna get voted as team captain. He’s really good, you know.”

“But aren’t you the swim captain, Steven?”

Steve holds his breath and counts to five. He then grabs some cold-cuts and pivots to face her.

“Mom—the swim team was disbanded two years ago. I was captain in my Sophomore year; then the program got cancelled because there wasn’t enough interest.”

“Oh…” She huffs out a sigh and finishes her drink, setting the glass by the sink. “That’s a pity,” she continues, stepping into him and ruffling his hair. “You’re such an accomplished swimmer. My water baby.”

“Okay, Mom,” he chuckles, smoothing his hair. “How about you head up to bed, now? You seem really tired.”

“Nonsense. I want to meet this Billy of yours. Your teammate… From your team…”

Steve bites down a groan.

“Basketball, Mom. I play basketball now.”

“Of course you do, darling,” his mom says, waving him off. “Oh, would you look at that?” She picks up her empty glass and frowns. “Nothing sadder than an empty glass.”

“Then I guess you should do something about it, huh?”

Margaret smiles crookedly and waves at him with her free hand, her polished nails glinting.

‘Night, Steven. Try not to be too loud with your little friend. Richard has another one of his headaches.”

“Okay—goodnight, Mom,” he says warmly.

Steve never liked the term functional alcoholic—especially after Nancy explained it to him—but the shoe really does seem to fit in his mother’s case. Well, it fits loosely considering the frequent gaps in her memory.

“Should’ve reminded her not to take her sleeping pill tonight,” he mutters, taking out some slices of bread to make a quick sandwich. “Pills and booze are never a good idea, Mags.”

But his mom is a grown woman, and her vices aren’t his own. At least, he’s trying hard to ensure they won’t be.

Anticipating that Margaret and Richard might be a roadblock, but not wanting to cancel on Billy, assuming he shows up, Steve decides to set up in the guest room in the basement. It’ll be quiet down there, and the old television and beta player are down there too, in case they want to watch a movie.

He finishes his ham sandwich and hurries to gather some snacks and drinks—of the non-alcoholic variety—before Billy gets there.

He won’t admit that he’s getting antsy, but it’s not like they decided on a time, and it’s starting to get late. Then Steve hears a car pull up outside, and he rushes to the window.

Billy climbs out of the back of Hopper’s cruiser, a sight that feels somehow fitting, and he waves as they pull away. Steve flings the front door open, catching him off-guard. But Billy grins and jogs over, rushing to get out of the cold.

“What happened to me sneaking in through the back like some criminal?”

“I ran into my mom earlier, so she knows you’re coming over,” Steve says easily, locking the door behind them.

“Oh, okay,” Billy mumbles, shucking off his coat. “Just, uh, let me get my boots off and you can show me around Casa Harrington.”

Steve laughs as he tucks Billy’s things into the hall closet.

“Yeah, come in and make yourself at home.”

After showing him the kitchen and the rest of the main level, Billy stops at the sliding doors and squints into the back yard.

“Hey, do you have a whole fucking pool back there?”

“Sure,” Steve says, shrugging. “It’s in-ground and heated, but it’s all shut up for the season. I mean, snow—it’s kind of a problem.”

Billy gives him a sideways glance, and Steve spots the scratch on Billy’s cheekbone, and the slight bruising blooming beneath it.

“What happened?”

Billy flinches as Steve cups his jaw and brushes his thumb over the fresh wound.

“It’s a long story,” Billy mumbles, smiling weakly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, okay…”

Steve chews on his bottom lip, hating the idea that Billy might’ve gotten into a fight after he left him.

“So, um, Hop drove you?”

“Yeah, I had a, um, problem with my car.” Billy walks away, like he’s trying to avoid the subject. “So, are we going up to your room? Do I get to see where you keep all your trophies and fancy clothes?”

Steve can feel himself hold his breath.

“What kind of problem, Bee?”

Billy doesn’t answer right away, his hands shoving into his pockets.

“Nothing, Steve. Hop’s gonna take care of it.”

“I’m not trying to fix anything,” Steve tries, taking a step closer. “But I’m here for you, even if it’s just to listen.”

“Look, it’s fine now. It was just… Just a, ah, Susan problem,” he says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Max warned me that she basically hates me now.”

“Billy…”

“I guess you’re not the only one who carries a baseball bat in their trunk. I mean, technically it’s Neil’s trunk because she got his jeep, and her bat doesn’t have nails hammered into it—thank God.”

Steve knows how much Billy’s car means to him, and sure it’s just a hunk of metal and gears, but it’s something that’s always been his. His sanctuary when things got rough at home and his means to get around and be independent. So, brutalizing Billy’s Camaro is almost worse than the small gash on his cheek.

“What did she do, Billy?” he asks softly.

“She just, um, smashed my windshield and punctured my two left tires. I needed to get those winter tires put on anyways, you know? So, it’s whatever.”

“God, that’s awful. It’s definitely not just whatever, Billy. Are you okay—is Max okay?”

“Everybody’s fine,” he replies, his mouth twitching. “Susan was drunk off her ass and took a few swings at my Camaro before she came into the school to try and snatch Max. Then she did this—” He sheepishly points at his cheek. “—She took a swing at me.”

“Fuck…”

Steve can’t hold back anymore, and he folds around him, cradling Billy’s head to his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry that happened. Max must’ve been mortified. And you… You didn’t deserve that; any of it.”

Billy clings to him, his fingers curling into the back of Steve’s sweater, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Needed to see you,” Billy mumbles. “Max has her friends, and I… Just need you.”

“Okay, Bee,” Steve murmurs, holding onto him tighter. “You’ve got me. I’m right here. Lemme make it all better.”

Billy tilts his head up to him, pressing closer with a needy kiss.

Feeling too exposed, Steve breaks away and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “I’ve got us set up downstairs. Somewhere quiet, where nobody can hear us.”

Billy nods, giving his hand a squeeze, and follows him downstairs.

…

Chapter Text

Steve barely has the door to the basement guest room closed before Billy drops his backpack and kisses him. It’s hot and messy, all tongue and teeth, and his hands roam everywhere.

It gets harder and harder for Steve to think, or even catch his breath. All he wants to do is keep kissing and touching him.

And, God, he really wants to fuck him.

But a good boyfriend wouldn’t take advantage of Billy’s vulnerable state. Besides, Steve doesn’t know what to do first or second, let alone third or fourth. So, he pulls back a fraction and jerks his head to the side.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy blinks up at him, his cheeks a pretty pink under his freckles.

“Ah, nothing?” he pants.

Steve’s dick twitches when Billy pouts his bottom lip.

“You’re sure? ‘Cause if this is too much, or I’m doing something you don’t like, we can stop.”

Yeah, Steve’s definitely getting hard in his corduroys.

“No, it’s good. This is good. I just feel like…”

‘Lost; confused; super out of my depth,’ Steve rants in his head.

“Ah, like maybe we have too many clothes on?” he says out loud, chickening out.

“Hm, well…that's an easy fix,” Billy hums, reaching for the hem of Steve’s cashmere sweater, and tugging it upwards, before yanking it off, over his head.

Steve snorts as Billy tosses the sweater away and starts undoing his own shirt buttons. But as Steve reaches for his belt buckle, the jingling sound has Billy freezing up, and staring.

Thinking fast, Steve throws his hands up.

“You can take it off me, if you want. My belt, I mean. Sorry, Bee. I didn’t even… Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Billy squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath.

“No, Stevie—I’m the one who’s sorry. I know you’d never hurt me like that. I think it was just one of those involuntary reactions. Ya know?”

“It’s okay, honestly. I guess this kind of thing’s gonna happen from time to time,” Steve soothes, taking Billy’s hands and bringing them to his belt. “Here—you slip it off, okay?”

Billy opens his eyes, meeting his gaze through his lashes before giving the leather belt a tug and slipping it free from Steve’s pants.

“See, it’s safe. You’re safe, Bee.”

“Thanks,” Billy murmurs, coiling the belt around his hand and dropping it by the bed. “I think I’m okay now. Where were we?”

Steve grins and cups his jaw.

“Right about…” He kisses him slowly, grinning against Billy’s lips. “Here.”

“Mm, want you so bad…”

“Yeah?”

Steve gets lost for a few moments in the feeling of their chests pressing together, skin to skin, and in the taste of Billy’s so-soft lips.

“Yeah,” Billy chuckles.

“But, um, maybe we can…”

Steve almost loses his train of thought again when Billy slips his hand under his waistband.

“Um, what, pretty boy?” Billy teases, nipping at his jaw.

“I was just thinking…”

Billy crawls on top of him, helping himself and pulling down Steve’s pants, his hands resting on the curve of his ass for a few seconds before dragging them the rest of the way down his lean legs.

“Yeah, Stevie?”

Steve struggles to answer, especially when Billy presses his mouth to the meat of his inner thigh and gives it a gentle nip.

“Hang on…” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m supposed to be the one distracting you.”

“Well—” Billy hooks a finger into Steve’s Calvin Kline’s and gives them a firm tug. “This is distracting me, ‘cause I find you… very distracting.”

A wonderful heat pools low in Steve’s belly as he watches Billy do away with his underwear and settle between his thighs.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Before Steve can reply, Billy captures his lips and tongue in a messy kiss, swallowing his words. He then makes his way slowly down Steve’s jaw and neck, pausing to nip at his collarbone.

Steve wriggles beneath him as Billy leaves a trail of wet kisses all the way from the center of his chest to his belly button, before making his way lower. A breathy moan escapes him as Billy’s hot tongue licks a line up his shaft, then Steve arches off the bed when he teases his sensitive head.

“Oh… Oh, fuck. Billy,” he whines, fisting a handful of his curls.

“You okay up there, Bambi?”

Billy's gravelled voice sends delicious vibrations through Steve’s dick, and his hips roll.

“Did you just…call me… Bambi?”

Billy chuckles, his hot breath ghosting over Steve’s thigh.

“Yeah,” he hums. “You’ve got those big, beautiful doe eyes. So innocent, yet so wild.”

A giddy laugh bubbles up from Steve’s chest. He tries to tilt his head to meet Billy’s gaze, and finds the ocean blue eyes almost black, his irises blown wide. Then Billy’s dark lashes flutter as his kiss-swollen lips close around his leaking head; and Steve nearly loses it.

“Uh-Mmph,” he moans, twisting to muffle the rest of the explicit, throaty sounds into a pillow. “Fuck, that’s so… Please…”

Billy pops off, holding Steve’s hip and giving it a squeeze.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he soothes. “You just enjoy the ride.”

As Billy takes him deeper into his mouth, and gives his length a satisfying suck, Steve claws at the bedding beneath him, hips jerking. But when he tries to fuck down Billy’s throat, strong hands grip both of his hips, tight, keeping him steady.

Steve tangles his fingers into Billy’s hair as he bobs his head, and he watches, mesmerized, as he does it again and again, and again; edging him closer and closer to his release.

“Feels so good…” Steve keens. “You feel so good with your mouth on me, Bee…”

Billy flits his gaze up to him, hollowing his cheeks just as his one hand slips between Steve’s legs. He teases his balls with his fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze and tug, then swallows hard, creating a perfect tightness.

“Bee, I’m gonna…” His nails scrape against Billy’s scalp as he throws his own head back. “I can’t—God. Billy…”

Steve’s orgasm crashes through him on a wave of broken moans. He pulses his release down Billy’s throat, and Billy swallows every drop, keeping his mouth on him until Steve begins to slowly soften.

“That was…” Steve laughs, his head dizzy with euphoria. “How many times you done that? ‘Cause you’re really good at it.”

Billy crawls up beside him and laughs hoarsely.

“Mm, thanks,” he muses. “And, a few, I guess.”

“What about you, tiger?” Steve snorts, his fingers threading into Billy’s curls again. “What can I do to get you to make the same kinds of amazing noises?”

“You do make the best sounds, Bambi,” Billy teases, throwing a leg over Steve’s own, and nuzzling into his neck.

“Mmnph—Billy…” he whines, gasping.

“Yeah, just like that,” Billy murmurs, smirking against Steve’s pulsepoint.

“C’Mon,” Steve whines, playing with Billy’s necklace. “Tell me what to do. Or, better yet, show me, teacher.”

“Stevie…”

Steve flicks the Saint Christopher pendant, causing it to swing, and pouts his lower lip.

“Promise to do my best, teach’,” he says, fluttering his lashes. “Just need a little hands-on training.”

Billy holds his gaze as he moves off the bed for a moment and takes off his dress pants. He lays them over the back of a chair before picking up his blue shirt and neatly setting it on top of the pants.

Steve raises up on his elbows, captivated, and licks his lips as Billy rolls off his socks, one at a time, before removing his underwear.

It isn’t until Billy’s standing beside him, fully naked, that Steve’s pulse kicks up a notch. Because something’s about to happen; something important.

And Steve’s kind of scared.

“I, um, have, ah…”

Billy reaches into his bag and pulls out a small tube and some condoms, and Steve feels a hot flush run up his neck.

“I got some,” Steve says quietly. “Lube, I mean. I wasn’t. I didn’t know if you’d… Like, have anything.”

“It’s all good, Bambi,” Billy murmurs, coming to sit by his hip. “But thanks. That was sweet of you.”

Steve gazes up at him, his eyelids heavy.

“Could just look at you forever,” he says lazily, his hand smoothing over the large muscles of Billy’s thigh. “Still so golden after weeks away from the California sun.”

“You’re feeling pretty good, huh?” Billy chuckles, his own hand moving to Steve’s chest, his fingertips grazing the small patch of hair there. “Hm, this is new. You grow this jungle overnight?”

“Must be my Italian heritage showing,” Steve snorts. “But I got in the habit of shaving—for swimming. So, no. Not overnight.”

“Well, I like it, and…” Billy grins, blushing. “I kind of wanted to ask you when your birthday is, ‘cause I don’t trust Tommy as far as I could throw him.”

“Bet you could throw that little troll pretty far, though,” he remarks, chuckling. “But, ah, sure. My birthday’s April 10th. So, not too long after yours.”

Billy smiles, and it’s a genuine sort of thing that makes Steve’s heart skip a little.

“Oh, you know my birthday already?”

“Yeah, Max told me it’s March 29th,” Steve admits, smiling too. “Kind of surprised she didn’t tell you mine. She seems super nosy about our relationship.”

“So nosy,” Billy agrees, snorting.

“Well, good. Now we know each other’s birthdays,” he mumbles shyly, glancing at the lube in Billy’s hand. “But, uh, whatcha gonna do with that?”

Billy grins and lays on his side, facing him.

“We have two choices, or rather, you do,” he says quietly, resting the tube on Steve’s belly. “If you’re feeling up to it, of course. No pressure.”

Steve leans in and steals a kiss, praying it will make him feel braver.

“I never feel pressured when I’m with you, Bee.”

Billy blushes, averting his gaze and distractedly running his fingertips over Steve’s chest hair.

“So, uh, I can show you how to, you know, be with me. Or I can just keep your good feeling going and you can learn by experiencing it.”

“Is this one of those top and bottom situations?” Steve asks, chewing on his lower lip. “‘Cause, yeah. I’m totally clueless. I mean, unless it’s sort of like being with a girl?”

“Sort of, but not really, Stevie.” Billy sighs and closes his hand around the lube, taking it back. “Maybe it’s too much for tonight. We can just—”

“No, Billy,” he interrupts, his hand moving to cover Billy’s own. “We’ve been together, what? A month? I don’t think that’s too fast. Not unless you do? Just, I think, maybe…”

Steve takes a steadying breath, trying his best to stay focused.

“You asked me before to hold you like one of the girls I’ve been with—which, if I’m honest, I hated because it makes me sound like a slut, and you sound unimportant. And you are, Bee. You’re important to me.”

“Then I trust you,” Billy murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. “Whatever you don’t know, or aren’t sure of, I’ll show you. Okay?”

Steve grins, still nervous but feeling lighter, and he reaches past Billy for the condoms.

“Yeah, okay,” he hums, then he rips open the foil at the corner with his teeth.

“Easy, Stevie,” Billy snorts. “This isn’t a race.”

But Steve’s already rolling the condom onto his quickly hardening dick, and Billy must think this is some kind of record for how fast Steve could get another hard-on, because he chuckles softly as he’s watching. And, yeah, maybe it is.

Billy shakes his head and moves onto his stomach, tucking a pillow beneath him, ass in the air, waiting.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh, waiting on you?”

“But…” Steve lets out a funny little laugh. “Why aren’t you on your back?”

Billy throws him a look over his shoulder.

“Because, pretty boy, this is your first time, and I don’t wanna make this more difficult for either of us.”

“But I wanna see your face,” he mumbles, sounding like a kid who just got told he couldn’t get ice cream or something. “Wanna hold you. This feels…impersonal.”

“I get it, but…” Steve gives his ass a smack, making Billy hiss. “So mature, Bambi.”

“Sorry, just with us saying but so much, and all.”

“Mostly you,” Billy points out, snorting. “Okay—fine. However, I want you to start this way, so you can see what you’re doing.”

Steve nods, then stops, looking confused.

“And what am I doing?”

“You know how you prep a girl?” Steve nods again. “Well, you’re gonna do that, only with lots of lube on your fingers.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, oh,” Billy repeats.

“Um…”

“Fuck—switch with me.”

Billy huffs out a sigh and jostles Steve onto the bed, adjusting the pillow under his belly. He squirts the lube onto his fingers, spreading it liberally, then nudges Steve’s knees further apart.

“Like this, princess,” he murmurs, gently pressing a hand into one of Steve’s ass cheeks, exposing his tight hole. “Just breathe, okay? And tell me if anything hurts.”

Steve’s ready to jump off the bed; or maybe even jump out of his skin. Then he feels a firm finger trace the rim of tight muscle and he can’t move.

Billy hums quietly and leans down to press a kiss to his shoulder as he carefully slips a finger inside. For a second or two, Steve can’t breathe, and every muscle in his body tenses.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you, Stevie.”

Billy gives his ass cheek a pinch, as if to distract him, then he presses his finger in deeper. Just when Steve thinks he can’t take anymore, Billy hooks his knuckle and gives his finger a small thrust, brushing against something inside of him—and Steve sees stars.

“Wait—what…” Steve keens quietly. “Do that again?”

“What, this?” Billy teases, hitting that same spot.

“Mmph…”

Steve bites down a moan as he nods, his forehead digging into the bed.

“Stay with me, pretty boy,” Billy whispers.

Steve can feel a strong hand on his hip, adjusting his position, and then a second finger inches in, flexing to make room. Steve gasps and squeezes his eyes shut as they sting with tears, but doesn’t tell Billy to stop—doesn’t want him to.

A few more seemingly endless moments pass while Billy slowly works him open. Then, at long last, the pressure ceases as he removes his fingers.

“You’re being such a good boy, Stevie,” Billy murmurs, hot breath ghosting his ear. “Now, do you wanna try out your lesson, or should I keep going?”

Steve never thought he’d ever get fucked this way. Never believed he’d ever want to be. But he feels safe with Billy, and damn if he’s not curious to know what else he’s been missing.

“Can I…?”

Steve chokes on a sob he didn’t know was coming, and Billy gathers him to his chest, gently rocking him.

“It’s okay, if it's too much,” Billy says hurriedly. “We can stop. We can even pretend it never happened. Okay?”

“Billy—please. Stop,” Steve says, struggling to keep from crumbling. “It was good, just different. And—fuck. I don’t know why I’m fucking crying. I think…” He moves back a fraction, meeting Billy’s gaze. “It’s not because of what you were doing, or what we could be doing. It’s likely because I just wanna fucking be with you so badly, and sometimes you make it sound like you don’t believe me.”

“I…” Billy shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be sure you want this. That you want me to do these things. ‘Cause they’re not easy to take, especially on the first time. And I wasn’t exactly given…” He shakes his head again, chasing away a bad memory. “I don’t wanna scare you, or hurt you.”

“And I know that,” Steve says warmly, cupping his cheek. “I trust you too, Bee. And it seems to me as if somebody didn’t give you much say, your first time. And that really pisses me off. So, consider this a redo, and tell me what you want.”

Billy lets out a shaky breath and searches his gaze.

“I really want you to rail me with that big, gorgeous dick of yours,” he whispers, flushing. “Felt so good in my mouth, just wanna feel you fill me up and hold me tight.”

Steve has to swallow a moan.

“Yeah, okay. But, uh, can you lie on your back? Or is that gonna hurt too much?”

Billy barks out a laugh.

“S’really important to you, huh?”

“Wanna see your pretty face when you come, is all,” Steve murmurs, cradling his jaw.

“Oh, is that all?” Billy muses, breathless. “Mm, okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Bambi.”

Grinning, Steve applies some lube to his fingers and tries to warm it up.

Billy lies down, the pillow under the small of his back this time, and he spreads himself wide, inviting Steve in. As Steve lowers himself over his boyfriend, Billy hooks his feet around him, knees hugging him at the ribs, and he edges up to meet him.

“This doesn’t hurt?”

Billy snorts at the unnecessary concern, but then Steve presses a kiss to the bruise forming on his thigh, from where he banged it on the desk.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, reaching a hand to squeeze Steve’s own. “You kissed it all better, Bambi.”

Steve beams before dipping to steal a messy kiss.

“Wanna kiss you, all of you, all better,” he whispers, grinning against Billy’s lips.

“Need you,” Billy whines, rutting his ass against Steve’s dick. “Kiss me all you want, once you’re inside me.”

Yeah, that’s got Steve going hard all right.

“Okay, teacher,” Steve hums. “Start like this?”

He demonstrates, circling a slick finger around Billy’s hole, and Billy bites his bottom lip, whimpering.

“Yeah… yes. Keep going.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together as he concentrates, making a few more passes before slotting the tip of his finger inside.

“Keep going,” Billy repeats tightly. “S’okay.”

Steve slowly slips his finger in, down to the first knuckle, then the second. But he was so distracted by what Billy’s fingers were doing to him, at the time, that he isn’t really sure where to find his sweet spot, so he just sort of circles his finger around.

Then he remembers Billy bent his finger, and Steve does the same. It sort of feels like he’s just poking around aimlessly for a few seconds, like an idiot, but then Billy moans softly and presses into his finger.

“This the spot?” Steve asks, amused.

Billy manages to nod.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighs.

Drawing back a little, Steve diligently adds a second finger, coaxing Billy open. But it doesn’t appear to take much, which gives Steve a flash of unexpected jealousy. He then quickly removes his hand and grips Billy’s hips, holding him steady and lining up.

Billy’s gaze flits up to him, worried it might be over before they’ve even started. But he soon feels Steve’s insistent head press against his opening.

“You okay?” he rasps, his hair falling into his face.

“Yeah, Stevie. Just… want you so badly…”

Steve holds his breath and presses in, inch by inch, stretching him out and filling him up, until his chest heaves and he can’t go any deeper. Billy keens and squeezes his knees together, making it harder for Steve to intake air.

“Easy, tiger,” he soothes, curling forward to mouth at Billy’s neck. “I’ve got you.”

Steve carefully pulls out, his breath coming in short puffs. When he’s about to pull free, he presses in again, and Billy arches his back, whimpering.

“S’okay,” Steve says quietly, nuzzling under Billy’s jaw and biting back a moan of his own. “Want me to stop?”

“N-no…” he whines, nails scraping Steve’s arms. “Don’t stop… Move—faster.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mmph-yesss,” Billy grits out.

Not one to give up easily, Steve repeats the motion, slow and careful, until Billy begins to relax. Then he starts to find a rhythm, and his thrusts become more confident.

“Don’t stop, Stevie,” Billy begs, his heels anchoring them together. “Feels so good.”

Steve grins, dipping to kiss him between breathy moans.

“All I ever wanted,” Billy mumbles against his throat. “Just didn’t know it; never thought I could have you.”

“You’ve got me, Bee,” he pants, picking up speed, his hips jerking. “Fuck—I’m close.”

“Me too, Bambi. S’okay, wanna watch you come.”

“Not until you do,” he mumbles, one hand moving to massage Billy’s chest and pinch his nipple.

“Umm, fuh-uck…”

“More, baby?”

“Yes,” he keens. “More.”

The room is hot now, the air thick with their low, breathy moans.

Steve’s focus narrows until all he knows is Billy; his strong arms encircling his neck, and his powerful thighs wrapped so tight around him. He keeps his gaze on Billy's eyes, lips, and the freckles dusting his cheeks, and lives in the spaces between his ragged breaths, and the sound of his own name on the other boy’s tongue. But most of all, he’s lost in the heat pooling low in his gut, and how tight, and perfect Billy feels, all around him.

“You okay?” he mutters between labored breaths. “Feel good?”

Billy digs his nails into Steve’s shoulders, clinging to him, and ruts his erection into Steve’s belly.

“Yes—so good. Feel so full.”

Fairly certain he won’t last much longer, Steve slips a hand between them, and gives Billy’s neglected dick a few firm strokes. The motion causes Billy to lift his hips off the bed, and cry out, as Steve finally hits his sweet spot.

Billy orgasms, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he cries out in a series of quiet, desperate moans. His face is beautiful, unguarded and lost in pleasure, and, as Steve gazes down at him, and thrusts his hips one more time, he finally tips over the edge.

Burying his face in Billy’s hair, Steve fucks them through their bliss, moaning into the pillow beside Billy’s head, and muffling the sound.

Trying to catch his breath, Steve finds the room a little out of focus as he flops onto his back. Billy’s limbs are still wrapped around him, refusing to let him go, and he snakes his own arms around the sweaty, panting boy.

“You okay, Bee?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Was just what I needed.”

“I think we made a bit of a mess,” he croaks, glancing down at the stickiness smeared on both of their bellies. “Just gonna get something to clean us up. Won’t be gone more than a minute.”

Billy whimpers as he reluctantly lets him go.

Steve trots off, returning with a damp washcloth from the guest bathroom. He’s ditched his condom and has already wiped himself clean, but presses the warm cloth to Billy’s skin, happy to take care of him.

“Thanks, Bambi,” Billy sighs. “So good to me.”

“I try,” he hums, grinning as he swipes the cloth over the tip of Billy’s dick, making him whine. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he murmurs, his lazy gaze on Steve. “Just want you back down here.”

“All done,” he announces a moment later, tossing the washcloth away once Billy’s all nice and clean. “C’mon, Bee. Let’s get all cozy in bed.”

Billy rolls out of the way, too boneless to get up, and Steve draws back the covers for him. They cuddle up, limbs entangling again, and Billy rests his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Wish I was in your bed.”

Steve can feel himself tense.

“Maybe next time,” he soothes. “When Mags and Dick aren’t home.”

Billy snorts.

“God, you don’t really call them that, do you?”

“Worse, they call each other those names,” Steve winces. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“I bet it is,” he chuckles, breathless. “Mm, you really wore me out…”

“Then go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up this time. Promise.”

Billy tilts his head up, kissing him softly.

“Thanks, Stevie; for everything.”

Steve kisses him again, slow and gentle.

“I had a wonderful teacher,” he says, snorting.

“Hm, A-plus,” Billy mumbles, grinning as his eyes flutter shut.

Gently brushing a stray curl out of Billy’s eyes, Steve gazes at him as his breathing deepens and his body relaxes in his arms.

“Goodnight, Bee. Sweet dreams,” he murmurs.

{~~~~~}

Waking slowly, Billy lifts his head a little. Steve snores softly beside him, his pretty clusters of moles and beauty marks on full display, just asking to be traced, or kissed.

It's better than he ever could’ve imagined, waking up beside him, his first moments of the day belonging only to the two of them. His body aches in the best way, spurring delicious memories of last night, and Steve fucking him lovingly into the mattress.

Then, as if sensing Billy’s gaze, Steve slowly opens his own eyes, a sleepy smile tugging on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice gravelled.

“Hey, princess,” Billy hums, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“Couldn’t move if I wanted to,” Steve admits, chuckling. “But, yeah. Me too. Wish we could do this every morning; and what we did last night, every night.”

“Of course you do,” he muses, grinning so wide his eyes crinkle at the corners. “So naughty.”

“Just had a really good time,” Steve says easily, tugging him in for another lazy kiss. “So glad you came over.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says, yawning.

They lay together, snuggled close and take their time waking up, all soft touches and relaxed.

“Steve!”

Steve groans, squeezing his eyes shut, and someone calls out his name, again; somebody who isn’t Billy.

Curious.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve grumbles, barely forming words.

“Steven?” A woman shouts. “Your father’s looking for you, Steven!”

“No, shit,” he mutters, his elbow bumping Billy’s shoulder as he rubs his eyes. “Sorry, Bee. You sleep okay, though?”

“Yeah, like the fucking dead. But, uh, maybe you should answer your parents before—”

A loud knocking pounds on the door, and Billy’s heart almost leaps out of his chest while he tries to remember if Steve locked it.

“Steve—we’re leaving in twenty minutes,” a deep baritone calls through the door. “Why did you sleep in the basement? Is there a girl in there with you?”

“Richard,” his mom hisses. “I told you, his teammate—Bobby—was staying over.”

Steve covers his face in both hands, his whole upper body flushing.

“Dad—I’m not going to the club, okay? I told Mom that if my friend stayed over I wouldn’t be joining you. So, have fun, and say ‘hi’ to the Holloways for me if you see them. Okay?”

“That’s fine, dear,” Margaret says sweetly. “But we would like to meet your friend before we leave.”

“We would?” Richard asks, sounding confused.

“Yes, and we’re sorry if we woke you, but it’s almost ten o’clock, Steven.”

“On a Sunday, Mom!” Steve cries indignantly.

“It’s fine, Steve,” Billy whispers, slinking out of the bed to grab his neatly piled clothes and his bag. “I’ll just take a piss and get dressed.”

“No—Bee…”

Steve reaches for him, missing by a mile, as Billy rushes into the bathroom.

A few more muffled exchanges happen before things seem to go quiet on the other side of the bathroom door. Billy empties his bladder and washes his face, and anything else that needs it.

After applying deodorant and getting dressed in his same clothes from yesterday, feeling a little over-dressed, he runs a brush through his curls, fixing a few, here and there, before leaving the safety of the bathroom.

Steve is dressed too, and he brushes past him, hurrying to use the bathroom, too.

Billy has a small pang of regret that they didn’t get to shower together, but he decides that gives him something to look forward to next time. When Steve comes back out, he grabs him around the waist and cups his chin, stealing a needy kiss.

“Just in case this is the last one for a while,” he murmurs.

“Good idea, pretty boy,” Billy sighs, kissing him again.

“Ready?”

Billy leans their foreheads together.

“Has it been twenty minutes yet?”

“No…”

“Yeah, then I guess I’m as ready as I’m gonna be,” he grumbles.

Thankfully, Steve’s parents aren’t waiting directly outside of the door. They find them in the kitchen; Richard finishing his coffee and reading the morning paper, and Margaret checking her makeup in her compact mirror, by the large window.

“There he is,” Richard says brightly, setting down the newspaper. “How ya doing, sport?”

Steve glances at Billy, giving him the impression that his old man may have, in fact, been taken over by bodysnatchers.

“Uh, I’m good, Dad. Might’ve liked to sleep in a little longer, though.”

“Nonsense,” he says, waving Steve off. “Days are shorter now, and you must have a lot of homework to catch up on. Heard you got a passing grade this week—why don’t we keep that up.”

Richard gives him a wink and punches his arm, like they’re buddies, and Steve blinks at him blankly, like his dad has lost his mind.

“Maybe you shouldn’t put Steven on the spot like that, Dick,” Margaret says, laughing lightly. “Besides, you’re ignoring his friend.” She holds out a manicured hand, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Bobby. I see you’re dressed up nicely for the club.”

“It’s Billy, Mom,” Steve says tersely. “And we’re not going.”

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Harrington,” Billy says politely, gently taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze. “But don't let us keep you.”

“What happened to your face, Billy?” Richard interrupts. “You get into a fight?”

“Uh, no…”

“Billy had a bit of a misunderstanding with his step-mom,” Steve supplies, stepping closer to his dad. “See, Billy and his sister have been staying with Chief Hopper and Mrs. Byers, and, well. Mrs. Hargrove disapproves.”

“Steve…” Billy’s chest tightens, afraid of how much he might share with his parents. “You don’t need to tell them all of that.”

“Hargrove, huh?” Richard narrows his gaze on Billy.

It’s a funny thing, how much Steve’s dad looks like him, and yet not at all. There’s an odd similarity in the line of their jaws and the bridge of their noses, but Steve’s eyes and mouth are all his mom; and his beauty marks.

“Yeah,” Billy says quietly. “You’ve probably heard about us by now. That messed up family that blew into town at the end of October and caused a lot of gossip.”

“Your old man’s in prison now, isn’t he? Tough break.”

“Is he?” Margret asks, clutching her literal string of pearls. “How awful.”

“Yeah, no,” Steve interrupts, his upper lip curling. “That’s the best place for him. Guy’s a real piece of work. But just because his parents are terrible, doesn’t mean Billy is, okay.”

Steve locks eyes with his dad as he says the last bit, his chin raised high and shoulders squared.

“Steven…” Richard snorts and shakes his head. “I’m not an idiot, son. I know this is the boy who sent you to the hospital just after Halloween.” His finger wags in Billy’s direction. “The fact that you invited him over… Have you lost your damn mind?”

“It was a misunderstanding involving his sister, Dad,” Steve argues, startling Billy with his sudden raise in volume. “And it wasn’t entirely his fault. Besides, we made up, and Billy’s the one who’s been tutoring me. He’s the reason why I passed my test and got a goddamn B for once. So maybe next time we can discuss your opinions about my friends in private, Dad.”

“Oh, and when exactly would that be, Steven?” Richard asks, scoffing. “You’re never home. We didn’t even find out about your latest concussion until a week after it occurred, because you chose to recover at some stranger’s house. As if that would keep us from finding out. You know you’re on my medical insurance for Pete’s sake? I mean you must, since you used it.”

“Can we please…” Margaret presses a pair of fingers to her temple, wincing. “We’re going to be late, Richard, and I don’t want to have a headache before we even get there.”

“You see what you did, son?” Richard throws a hand towards his wife, his mouth twitching. “You’re giving your mother a headache.”

The quick hand gesture alone is enough to make Billy’s internal alarms go off.

He slowly stumbles backwards, out of the kitchen, leaving the Harringtons to continue their shouting match. Chest tight, he struggles to breathe evenly, his vision blurring, and his back suddenly presses against something cold and hard.

Twisting around, Billy finds that he’s retreated as far as the glass sliding doors that lead into the yard. The smooth, cool surface feels nice against his hot skin, and he leans his forehead against it, his quick, shallow breaths fogging the glass.

After a few seconds, or minutes, it’s hard to tell, Billy lifts his gaze to look outside at the snow covered deck—and something catches his eye.

Past the pool and tucked into the tall trees stands a dark figure. Their unnaturally long arms hang at their sides, its fingers also appearing eerily long. Blood rushing in his ears, the argument somewhere behind him forgotten, Billy squints, trying to make them out.

His hand moves to the handle on the door, but he can’t quite figure out the lock. When he glances down to see why the door won’t budge, then glances up again, the figure is gone.

“What’re you doing?”

Billy flinches as Steve touches his arm, jumping back from the glass.

“Fuck—Stevie. Shit,” he huffs, trembling.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Steve gently rubs up and down his arm, trying to calm him. “You look scared shitless.”

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles, turning his head to look outside again. “I just… I thought I saw something. Maybe.”

Steve looks outside, squinting at the sunlight reflecting off the snow.

“Maybe I spooked you. But I don’t see anything.”

“Yeah, me neither. Now, I mean.” Billy huffs out a sigh and slowly meets his gaze. “Did you want something?”

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to let you know that my parents left,” he says, cupping Billy’s cheek. “Hey, I’m sorry. Us arguing like that? I guess it was a lot for you, huh.”

“I…”

Billy vaguely hears a car engine, somewhere, and the grinding of the garage door gears reverberates through the wall.

“Oh… They left?” he asks, sounding and feeling small.

“C’mon,” Steve mumbles, pulling him into his chest. “Don’t let those jerks ruin our sleepy Sunday, okay? Fuck them. Lemme take you upstairs to see my bedroom. I can even give you something comfier to wear.”

“Are they mad, though?” Billy manages, feeling a bit dizzy. “Your parents? You know, about you and I being friends?”

“No, Bee,” he soothes, grinning. “If you’d stayed, you would’ve heard that we worked things out. I told my dad how we made amends and I promised to tell them if I ever got into another fist fight; which I’m not planning on doing ever again. My dad was satisfied and my mom took something for her headache.”

“Oh…”

Billy can’t help stealing another glance over his shoulder as Steve pulls him towards the stairs. He doesn’t see any signs of the figure, or anything out of the ordinary, though.

“What do you keep looking at?”

“Nothing. I just. I thought I saw somebody,” he admits.

“I hope it wasn’t a girl sitting on the diving board,” Steve says offhandedly, snorting.

“No…” Billy narrows his eyes on him. “Why?”

“Uh, no reason.” Steve tugs on his hand. “C’mon. Time for the rest of your tour.”

“Steve…” Billy tilts his head as they hurry upstairs. “You can’t just say something like that and then drop it. What girl, Steve?”

“Nobody,” he chuckles, pulling Billy into his room. “Just a recurring nightmare I have. Sad girl left crying and all alone by my pool, never to be seen again.”

“Funny, that sounds oddly like what happened to Nancy’s friend,” Billy remarks, yanking Steve back to him. “C’mere, Bambi.”

Steve gives him a funny look, then grins as Billy kisses him softly, fingers tangling in his chestnut hair.

“It’s fine,” he says quietly, kissing Billy again. “I mean, it’s not. But there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Billy hums and decides to drop it, not wanting to upset him.

“This is a nice room,” Billy says, slowly breaking away and looking around. “Wallpaper’s hideous, though.”

A bark of laughter escapes Steve.

“Hey, I like it.”

“Well, remind me not to let you be in charge of decorating if we ever move in together, pretty boy,” he mumbles, eyeing the shelf of trophies and posters of swimsuit models. “This overtly masculine, jock vibe I’m getting is kind of cringy.”

“Uh, excuse me, but I saw your old room. Remember? It wasn’t that different. You just didn’t have the plaid wallpaper.”

“Or the fancy curtains,” Billy adds, touching the hem of the fabric in the exact same plaid. “Or the king-sized bed. Damn, pretty boy—you made me sleep in that sad little double?”

“Maybe next time we can sleep up here.”

“Next time?”

Billy snorts and pulls away from him. He crawls onto the bed, then stands up and bounces, his tongue pressing between his teeth as he grins mischievously.

“Careful, Bee. You’ll bite that naughty tongue clear off,” Steve teases.

“I guess you’d better get up here and stop me,” he laughs, bouncing slightly higher.

“Don't break my bed,” Steve whines, climbing up. “There’s far more fun ways we could do that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Billy huffs out a laugh, his hair fluffing out as he catches a little air, and Steve waits to catch him on the rebound. He tackles Billy around the middle, throwing him down to the mattress. They land in a pile, laughing and breathless, and Billy’s never been happier.

“Fuck, love how strong you are,” he says, low and gravelly, his chest still heaving.

“Me?” Steve beams. “You think I’m strong, huh?”

“Shut up,” Billy snorts, reaching up to brush back the mop of hair that’s flopped into Steve’s face. “You know you are. S’why I was so drawn to you. That and your pretty doe eyes.”

“That so?” he muses, slotting a knee between Billy’s thighs.

“Hey, how long do your folks usually hang around that fancy country club of theirs?”

“Well, let’s see…” Steve smoothes a hand up Billy’s shirt and pops the first few buttons under his collar. “It's the holiday season, so they’ll have lots of schmoozing to do with their friends. And Mom will probably indulge in some eggnog, and peppermint martinis. And Dad—he’ll wanna check in with a few of his business buds. So, like, most of the day, really.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that,” Billy hums, leaning up to press a needy kiss to his lips.

“You’re not hungry?” Steve snickers. “We kind of burned a lot of calories last night.”

Billy’s stomach growls.

“Mm, maybe a little?”

Steve laughs and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, baby. Lemme see what I can scrounge up. You get cozy in bed and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay…but, um, about that?” Billy glances away, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “I, uh, kind of don’t know how I feel about you calling me baby.”

“Oh…” Steve blinks, the grin sliding off his face. “You want me to stop?”

“It’s just… Did you ever call Nance that?” he asks, hating himself a little.

“Fuck, no,” he laughs, sitting up on his heels. “Did it once and the great feminist told me just what she thought about being infantilized. A term, by the way, she had to explain before I fully knew what she was talking about. I mean, I tried to tell her that that wasn’t what I was doing, that it was just my way of expressing my affection, but she was pretty stubborn about it. So, if you hate it, just tell me and I’ll do my best to stop.”

“No, I don’t hate it. I just…” Billy lets his gaze flit around the moles on his neck, cheek and jaw. “Somebody called me that once, somebody I don’t think I’ll ever really know for sure if they meant it, or it was just what they called everybody they were with.”

“Right, like a placeholder so they didn’t fuck up and call you by somebody else’s name when they’re drunk or high, or just lost in the moment.” Billy flashes him a look. “Ah, anyway. That sucks. And I won’t call you that if it’s the association you have. ‘Cause that’s all I’ll be thinking about, too.”

“No. I mean, sort of. But I’ve been trying to reclaim all the fucked up things people have called me that weren’t exactly wrong. And…” Billy combs his fingers through Steve’s thick hair, sighing. “I kind of like it. Hearing you call me baby makes me feel wanted and…”

“And?” Steve nudges, his fingers fidgeting with the chain around Billy’s neck.

“And I kind of like the idea of being your baby,” he admits, blushing. “Fuck, that feels so weak to say out loud.”

“You’re not weak, Bee,” he murmurs. “You’re letting yourself be vulnerable with me, and I’m so grateful. ‘Cause I really wanna be here for you.”

Billy grins, fighting back tears.

“See, told ya you were strong, Stevie.”

“Just care about you, baby,” he murmurs. “Care about you a lot.”

Billy’s stomach gurgles, interrupting their soft moment.

“And I guess I shouldn’t starve you.”

“Yeah, keeping me captive in your bedroom and starving me is definitely a bad way to show you care.”

“Uh, you’re not a prisoner, Bee,” Steve laughs.

“Maybe not, but I’m so drained from last night,” Billy pouts, his head falling back onto the pillow. “I couldn’t possibly make it all the way back down to the kitchen.”

“My poor baby,” he grins. “I’ll hurry back. Just try not to waste away while I’m gone.”

Steve dips, greedily stealing one more kiss before getting off the bed and hurrying away. Once he’s gone, Billy rolls over and buries his face in the pillow, breathing in Steve’s heady scent. As he sits up, he brings the pillow with him, hugging it to his chest.

Billy looks around the room again. It’s tidy, well organized, kind of vacant of anything too personal. The space feels staged. Like an image of a boy who used to be the pride and joy of his family. Who used to win trophies and have a swarm of friends.

But that’s not who Steve is anymore. Now he’s capable, mature, and keeps his good deeds and accomplishments to himself; hidden from his parents.

A funny feeling comes over him, forming a pit in his stomach. Because Billy knows that he’s one more thing Steve’s going to need to keep to himself.

“Okay, it’s kind of slim pickings at Chez Harrington,” Steve announces, chuckling, as he returns with a tray full of offerings. “I have Corn Flakes, toast with jam, some bananas, and coffee. We’re out of juice, but I brought water in case you wanted something other than coffee.”

Billy grins up at him as Steve sets the large tray on the bed and hands him a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then he notices there’s already some cream stirred into it, giving it that light caramel color.

“You know how I like my coffee?”

Steve smiles shyly and sits down, careful not to disturb the tray, as Billy takes a sip, humming in his throat.

“Of course I do, Billy,” he says softly. “I pay attention.”

“Thanks,” Billy murmurs. “This looks great.”

“But you didn’t get all cozy,” Steve pouts. “You’re not even under the covers yet.”

“Hm, and by cozy you mean naked, dontcha, Bambi?”

Steve laughs and picks up a banana, peeling it slowly.

“I mean, I’m not opposed.”

“Well, maybe we can take a shower later?” Billy muses, snatching a piece of toast. “You know, together?”

“Wouldn’t be our first time,” Steve snorts. “But I guess it’ll be the first time we can do the stuff I know you were always thinking about.”

“Oh? Me?” Billy wheezes out a laugh, almost choking. “Yeah, okay. I wasn’t very subtle, huh?”

“Yeah, no,” he chuckles.

Billy leans in, pressing a sticky jam kiss to Steve’s lips.

“I meant what I said before,” he says softly. “You’re not decorating when we move in together. But maybe we can take turns cooking.”

“Or, maybe you should do the cooking,” Steve remarks, gesturing to the tray.

“Uh-uh, Stevie. Dustin already gave away your secret,” Billy points out, teasing. “I know you can do better than this, if you have the resources. But this is nice. Being here—with you. It’s really nice.”

Steve moves up to sit beside him, draping an arm across his shoulders, and sighs.

“Yeah, it is really nice, isn’t it?”

Billy tilts his head, kissing him again, soft and slowly, and moans into his mouth.

“Thanks for last night,” he whispers. “I think I really needed that.”

Warm brown eyes gaze into his blue.

“Yeah, I think I did too,” Steve murmurs.

…

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Mike mumbles, landing beside Max. “How’re you doing?”

Max looks at him, her brows knitting together.

“I dunno,” she mumbles. “I guess I’m okay, all things considered. Joyce—she’s been really great. Will, too. They’ve really made me feel like part of the family. But—why?” She suddenly narrows her eyes on him. “Did Lucas send you over to check on me?”

Mike glances over at the others chatting about which movie to watch.

It’s the next day, early afternoon, after the dance, and they’re all still hanging out in the basement. El has her chin on Dustin’s shoulder as they go through their options, and Will leans on Lucas, yawning. They stayed up late, chatting and trying their best to distract Max.

Somewhere along the way, everybody split into pairs, interesting ones, but now they’re regrouping.

“No, actually. But, uh, I thought I’d ask. I mean, I kind of feel bad about what happened. I don’t even know what I’d do if my mom suddenly went insane like that, or blamed Nancy for everything that was wrong in our family. So, uh, that’s really good.” A smile slowly fights onto his face. “Will and his mom. They’re amazing.”

“Please,” Max snorts. “We both know that you’re the black sheep in your family, Mike.”

He grins, bumping shoulders with her.

“Um, yeah, about that…”

Max gives him an expectant look, arching an eyebrow, and Mike squirms a little, rethinking things.

“You know what? Never mind. I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Hey, I could use the distraction,” she says, shrugging. “Go on, ask me about whatever’s on your mind. I feel like we’re close enough now that we can talk about almost anything. If you prefer, we can talk about how you and Will shared the air mattress?”

“This isn’t about that. Okay, well…maybe it is?” Mike takes a steadying breath before jumping in. “Look… Is it true that you knew about Billy, uh, liking guys?”

She blinks at him, her expression unreadable.

“Just forget about it. I’m a jerk for even asking.”

Mike hides his face in his hands, groaning in humiliation.

“No, I won’t forget about it. But it shows great personal growth, you thinking you’re a jerk for asking,” she teases. “But really, it’s okay. I don’t mind. You just surprised me.”

He peeks at her through his fingers.

“So, did you?”

“Yeah, but Billy only told me while he was in the hospital. You know, after Neil nearly killed him. He kind of confessed that the guy I took for his best friend back in California—his only friend, really—was actually his boyfriend. Well, sort of. Not sure if they were official, or anything. And, apparently, Neil found out. S’why he picked us up and moved us so fast, I guess.”

An unsettling feeling falls over him.

“He didn’t, like, kill his boyfriend, right?”

“Neil?” Max laughs, then she sobers. “Oh, fuck. I don’t actually think he would.”

“Don’t you?” he whispers, raising his brows. “Would Billy still have this guy’s number? I mean, if Hopper could pin an actual murder on your step-dad that would go a long way to making sure he never saw the outside of prison again.”

“Oh, God… It would be, yeah. But…” Max swallows, fidgeting with her hands. “I dunno, maybe? But… Does this mean that you like guys?”

“What?” Mike gapes at her, his nose wrinkling.

“I’m just checking,” she says easily. “You know, in case I need to worry about you trying to steal Lucas away from me, now that you’re single. Unless, of course, you’re not single.”

Mike instinctively looks at Will, his adam’s apple bobbing.

“Look, stop being ridiculous. Do you think Billy might have this Alex guy’s number, or not?”

“Nice avoidance, Wheeler,” she snorts, earning a nasty look. “Oh, my God. Probably?”

“Great!”

Mike stands, and Max jumps up after him.

“You can’t seriously think we’re gonna go through my brother’s things? Are you crazy?”

“He’s not even home, Max,” Mike says easily, hurrying upstairs. “He won’t find out. I mean, not unless you tell him.”

“I really don’t like this idea, Michael.”

Max chases after him, and grabs his sleeve as they reach Billy’s bedroom, yanking him backwards.

“No, Mike!” she whisper-shouts. “I can’t let you go through Billy’s things. He’ll blame me and it’ll ruin how close we’ve gotten.”

“What’re you kids doing up here?” Joyce asks, peeking into the hallway, “is everything okay in the basement?”

“Um, yeah,” Mike says, glancing at Max. “Everything’s fine. Your, ah, lipstick’s kind of smudge,” he adds, grinning as he points to his own mouth.

Joyce dabs at the corner of her mouth, blushing, and Max rolls her eyes.

“Just ignore him,” Max huffs. “He’s being extra annoying today.”

“I didn't mean anything by it,” he adds, shrugging innocently. “But I guess Hopper really liked the little makeover Billy gave you last night.”

“You coming back, Joy?” Hop calls from their room. “Everything’s okay with the kids?”

Joyce pulls her robe a little tighter at her chest before grinning sheepishly.

“You’re good, kids?” she hedges. “Max?”

“Yeah,” she says, biting back a laugh. “We’re good.”

As soon as Joyce is gone, they both snicker.

“It’s almost two,” Mike remarks.

“I know!” Max squeals. “What have they been doing, in there?”

They share a knowing look, and both of them wrinkle their noses.

“Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Ugh, I have to live here,” she groans. “I’m definitely blocking this memory out.”

“Hey, at least Hopper didn’t come out after her wrapped in a bed sheet or something?”

“Stop—Mike!” Max cries, hitting his arm before quickly covering her ears. “I mean it!”

He grins, all teeth, and darts into Billy’s room.

“Oh, you little shit!”

Mike’s already sifting through the things on Billy’s desk, and the drawers, by the time she storms in after him.

“I’m going to fucking murder you,” she growls, gripping his arm and pulling as hard as she can.

Only as he’s getting dragged away, Mike holds up a small book in triumph.

“Ha—found something!”

“What are you guys doing?”

They freeze and turn to find El, Dustin, Will and Lucas staring at them.

“I wanted to find out if Billy’s ex-boyfriend is also an ex-living,” Mike quips, wriggling away from Max. “But we needed to find his phone number first.”

“And you think this boy’s number is in a copy of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five?” Dustin asks slowly.

“Whoa, hold up,” Lucas mutters, holding up his hands. “Billy had a boyfriend?”

“He likes Steve now,” El says, grinning. “Steve is very pretty and treats him very well.”

Lucas squints at her.

“Yeah, no. I mean, I’m just shocked ‘cause I figured Steve was the one who housebroke him. Never thought he was capable of having a previous relationship.”

“So, you all knew…” Mike blinks, clutching the book to his chest. “About Billy?”

“It was pretty obvious,” Will mumbles.

“I mean, I didn’t know for sure, but Steve confirmed it for me,” Dustin remarks.

“Max told me a couple of weeks ago so I wouldn’t embarrass myself,” Lucas supplies.

“Great—and nobody thought to tell me?” Mike huffs, looking at each of them.

They all glance at Will, except El.

“We seriously didn’t think you could handle it,” Will admits, blushing. “And we weren’t wrong.”

“Fuck you guys,” he mutters, thumbing through Billy’s book.

“Okay, but what are you thinking?” Max snorts. “That Alex just wrote his phone number in the back of one of Billy’s books?”

“Um, no.” Mike opens to a random page and shows her all the tiny notes in the margins and any areas without printing. “Billy wrote a ton of stuff in this thing. Personal stuff, I think. It’s kind of hard to tell ‘cause I think he’s using some kind of short form or code, but I’d say so.”

“What?” Max’s eyes go wide. “Give me that!”

“I’m still looking at it!” Mike cries, flailing to keep the book away from her.

“Mike—give it back!” Will orders, blocking the door to keep him from running away. “I mean it. I don’t want Billy getting mad at Max.”

Mike freezes. Then he meets Will’s eye and slowly turns to give Max the book back.

“Thank you,” Max huffs, hurrying to return it to the desk. “Where was it, Mike?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, gesturing. “Under that stack of textbooks and stuff.”

Max goes to slip it back under the stack, but she hesitates. Her curiosity winning out, she flips through the book, finding the tiny scribbles fascinating—and a folded sheet of paper falls out of it.

“Oh, no,” she gasps. “I don’t know where this just fell from.”

“It’s okay, Max,” Lucas says, hurrying to her side. “We’ll just slot it back into wherever it looks like there’s a gap when you hold the book closed.”

Max swallows down her panic and nods as she checks.

“Okay, I think I found the spot.”

“But… What is it?” El asks, tilting her head. “Don’t you want to read it first?”

“Yeah, you gotta look at it,” Dustin mumbles. “Otherwise you’ll always be wondering.”

Max meets Mike’s gaze and he shrugs, but it’s obvious that he wants her to open it. So, with shaky fingers, she delicately unfolds the paper.

“Dear Billy…” she reads aloud, her pulse racing. “Oh, shit. I think this is a letter from his mom.”

“Is there a year on it?” Will asks, pressing into her other side.

“I, um…” Max scans the cursive writing and finds a date at the bottom, which feels unusual. “Yeah, it’s from 1977. It’s dated the 22nd of March, right before his birthday, I guess.”

“And eerily on your birthday,” Mike whispers, looking at Will.

“Oh…” Max continues to read the letter to herself. Some of the ink has faded or smudged over the years, but she can make out most of it. “She’s saying goodbye. It’s like her Dear John letter, I guess.”

“She left him right before his tenth birthday?” Lucas says, wincing. “Damn, that’s cold.”

“She probably meant to come back for him,” Will remarks. “Right Max?”

“Yeah, I mean, maybe? I think it seems like it,” she mumbles, her brows furrowing. “Here—tell me what you think.”

Max clears her throat before reading the letter out loud.

“Dear Billy, I’m sorry that I’ll be gone when you wake up this morning. I placed this letter under your pillow so that, hopefully, your father won’t find it.
I had to leave so I could have a chance at a better life for the both of us. Stay strong, starfish, and I’ll come and get you as soon as I’m able. But it might be a while. So, be a good boy, go to school, and do as you're told—and your father should leave you alone. It’s my fault that he’s been so angry. He believes the worst about me.
I’ll try to write to you again, for your birthday. In case I can’t: Happy Birthday. I’ve left you my pendant to wear, close to your heart, so you’ll know I’m always with you.
Love you so much!
~Mom”

“God, that was really sad,” Dustin murmurs.

“Poor Billy,” Will mumbles.

“Wait—what is that?” El asks, dipping her head and squinting at something on the back of the paper. “Are those numbers?”

“Oh, shit,” Mike hisses, bending down to look closer. “I think it’s a phone number.”

Max flips it over and looks.

“I think this is Billy’s writing. This phone number could belong to anybody.”

As she lifts her gaze, Max finds everyone staring at her.

“No.”

“We should definitely call it,” Mike says, grinning.

“No,” Max says again, more firmly this time. “Billy will straight up disown me, and Hopper will hate us if we call a California number on a Sunday.”

“Aren’t rates lower on weekends?”

“Not helping, Lucas!” she cries.

“C’mon, Max,” Mike whines. “We'll only stay on the line long enough to find out who it belongs to.”

“Billy’s mom is dead, Mike,” she huffs, waving the letter around. “So, who do you think you’re gonna be calling?”

“Wait, did Neil divorce Billy’s mom, or did she die?” Dustin asks, confused.

“Divorced, then she died. It’s how he got full custody. Neil said she abandoned her family.”

“Um, is her name on it—the letter, I mean?” Will asks, peeking over her shoulder. “Or does it just say mom at the bottom?”

“It just says mom,” she says, glancing down at the letter and biting her bottom lip.

“Does not sound like she abandoned him to me,” El says quietly, hugging herself. “That is so sad.”

“Max?” Mike asks sharply. “I think there’s a name by the number on the back. Look again?”

She flips the paper over and squints at the faded writing in pencil. Then she sees it.

“It’s Alisa, I think,” she says quietly, her finger underlining the letters of her name. “Weird that he’d write her name though, isn’t it? I mean, this is definitely his writing, not hers.”

“Is it really that weird?” Lucas offers. “When you’re a little kid you don’t really use your parents’ actual names. So, maybe she was staying somewhere where he needed to ask for her by name.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” Will mumbles.

“Okay, I read the letter and invaded my brother’s privacy,” Max mutters. “Happy now, Mike?

“I’d be happier if you let me call that number.”

“What—no!”

“Why not? It’s not like his mom’s gonna pick up, or whatever. It’s just harmless research.”

“Oh, my God. Fine—here,” she relents, handing the letter to Mike. “But don't damage the paper—and I’m putting it back the second the line starts ringing.”

Mike scampers downstairs, all the way to the basement, and starts dialing. Chest heaving, he swallows as the line rings. The others catch up just as someone answers, and he freezes for a second.

“Hello?” a woman asks primly. “Is anyone there?”

“Uh… I… Um, hi?”

“You’re hopeless. Give me that!” Max huffs, snatching the receiver from him. “Hi, sorry, this isn’t a crank call. I just—we found out that this phone number used to belong to the mother of our friend, and, uh, we were hoping maybe whoever answered might give us some information about her. But I get how random this sounds, so if you want to hang up, that’s cool.”

“Well, let’s start with who you are,” the woman says kindly. “And who you’re looking for.”

“My name’s Max,” she replies, her gaze flitting to Lucas. “I’m looking for information on my step-brother’s mother. Her name’s Alisa. Her last name might’ve still been Hargrove. Do you—did you know her?”

“I’m sorry, dear. We see many young women come and go from Serenity House. And we can’t simply give out information on our residents, current or past.”

“Serenity House?” Max repeats, her brows knitting together. “Is that some kind of rehab center?”

“No, Max. It’s a refuge for battered women.”

“Oh…” Max feels suddenly overwhelmed, like she might cry, or drop the phone. “What if, um, Billy calls? That’s her son. You must be able to tell him about her, right?”

“Max, I think you need to hang up,” Lucas gently coaxes. “Billy said she passed away, remember?”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t.”

“What if you just see if you can contact her? Tell her Billy’s looking for her—and she can call him?”

“Look, it’s very sweet of you to be doing this for your step-brother—and I don’t wish to upset you. But a Police Chief from the town where he son lives, where you live, I presume, already called here weeks ago. So why don’t you call him, dear? He can tell you what I told him. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Um, thank you for your time, Missus...”

“Judith,” she supplies wryly. “And you take care, Max. You and your brother.”

Max hands the phone back to Mike as Judith hangs up.

“It was some kind of refuge for abused women,” Max says, voice small. “I guess… I guess she really did need help to get away from Neil.”

“But she didn’t say what happened to Billy’s mom?”

She shakes her head.

“No, but it kind of sounded like maybe she knew her. Or, at least, knew of her. She said she spoke to Hop already—weeks ago.”

“Must’ve been when Billy was in the hospital,” Dustin guesses. “Damn, that sucks.”

“I’ll, um…” Mike swallows and meets Will’s gaze as he carefully folds the letter. “Put this back for you, okay.”

“Thanks…”

“What’re you thinking, Max?” Lucas asks, wrapping an arm around her.

“I dunno, I guess. I guess a part of me wishes Neil had hit my mom,” she admits quietly. “Maybe then she wouldn’t be so delusional about him. Maybe then she could’ve gotten the help she needed.”

“Neil might’ve never hit your mom,” Will interjects. “But he controlled her with fear and manipulation. Emotional abuse is just as bad as physical abuse, Max. Sometimes it’s just harder to see for what it is.”

“I think I wanna go lie down now.”

“Max…”

Lucas worries his lower lip as Max slips away from him, hurrying upstairs.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Max,” Mike calls after her.

 

“Hey, whoa, where's the fire?”

Max tries to get around Hopper, but he catches her by the shoulders.

“Hang on a second,” he says softly. “What’s wrong? You need me to get Joyce? She’s just in the shower.”

“We—I mean, no,” she says, giving him a funny look and sniffling. “I’m fine. I just wanna be alone. That’s all.”

“Yeah, okay. If you’re sure?”

He lets her go and stands to his full height, but Max can't let go as easily.

“Does Billy know you called Serenity House in California?”

Hopper blinks at her.

“Uh, yeah. He was the one who asked me to call—gave me the number. Why do you know about that place, Max?”

“I might’ve accidentally found it in one of his books,” she says, crossing her arms. “So, what did Judith tell you? Does she know where Alisa is, or what happened to her?”

“Okay—wow, kid,” he says, huffing out a laugh. “Did you call the number?”

“Maybe,” she mumbles noncommittally, shrugging one shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Technically, Mike called, but then he flaked so I spoke to her. Judith, I mean.”

“Um, okay,” he says slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face and pretending not to see Mike as he sneaks behind Max to go into Billy’s room.

“Look, it’s simple. Judith just confirmed what Billy told us. His mom, Alisa, was very sick by the time she came to stay at the refuge—because Neil never let her go to see a doctor, like, ever.” He pauses to give Max’s shoulders a squeeze. “She had cancer, it was advanced, and she died within about eighteen months of getting away from that piece of shit. And, sadly, Billy’s mom wasn’t well enough to take him with her. The refuge takes in kids with their moms, but not kids by themselves.”

“But people knew what kind of situation he was in, and how horrible Neil could be,” Max says, tensing. “How could they just leave him with his dad like that?”

“It was the early days of places like this, and the law taking domestic and spousal abuse cases seriously. So, even making a credible accusation of abuse was difficult. Besides, Alisa didn’t have anybody else to name as Billy’s guardian once she passed away. And she did, Max. She died. I thought Billy told you?”

“He always danced around it,” Max says, tears streaking her face. “Fuck, I feel so bad. We never should’ve called…”

“Then why did you?” he asks, rubbing her arm.

“We actually went looking for Alex Anderson’s number—Billy’s ex. Mike got this idea that maybe Neil killed him and that’s why he never came to say goodbye to Billy.”

Hopper tilts his head, sighing.

“Okay, that’s a new one for me. But why not just ask Billy for his number?”

“Reasons,” she mumbles, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“Would it make you feel better if I try calling him?”

“You don't have his number, Hop,” she points out, snorting. “But, maybe.”

“Well, how did Billy know him? Did they go to school together, or work together? You know, is there some way that might make it easier to track him down.”

“Oh—wait. They worked together in the summer. Alex was a lifeguard at the same beach as Billy; Pacific Beach. I think he taught surfing lessons, too. And I totally know the number for the recreation center office. I can’t tell you how many times I had to call Billy and remind him to get his surfer ass home.”

“God, must’ve been paradise for him,” he says, grinning. “Neil really knew what he was doing by ripping your brother away from all of that.”

“Did he ever,” she mutters. “But they’re probably closed now—the office. ‘Cause it’s Sunday.”

“Okay, well. Give me the number and I’ll call tomorrow—from the station.”

“You will?”

“Of course, kid. I wanna make sure this Alex guy’s alive and well, just as much as you do.”

“Thanks, Hop!” Max throws herself at him, hugging him tight around the middle. “I really appreciate it. And for taking care of Susan, last night. God, that was so humiliating.”

He chuckles and pats her back.

“We’re gonna get her evaluated, once she’s calmed down and fully sober. Maybe we can get her a lighter punishment if she’s proven to be less than capable. If you know what I mean.”

“Crazy—right?” Max mutters, moving away. “Yeah, I’d say she’s been depressed long enough to qualify.”

“I only want to help, and do what’s best for your mom and you.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But, um, Hop?”

“Yeah, Max?”

“I don’t really wanna leave. I like it here, with you and Joyce and everybody. Finally feels like I have a real family.”

A dopey grin comes over him and Hopper cups her cheek.

“Yeah, me too, kid. Me too.”

Mike peeks into the hallway, checking if the coast is clear. Then his eyes go wide when Hopper spots him.

“C’mere, Mike.”

Mike almost darts down the stairs, but thinks better of it when Hopper narrows his eyes on him.

“Yeah, I know. I’m in trouble for snooping in Billy’s room. You gonna call my mom, or something?”

“No, but maybe I should tell Billy,” Hop threatens, smirking. “Let him deal with you.”

“What—no! You can’t!”

“Relax, Mike,” Max snickers. “He’s kidding. Besides, if Billy figures out we were in his room, I’ll take the blame.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. “I mean—thanks,” he quickly amends. “Really.”

“I’m gonna go get dinner started,” Hopper says, making his way to the stairs. “You staying Mike, or is somebody coming to get you?”

“Uh, yeah. I think Nancy’s gonna pick me up when she drops off Jonathan.”

“Yeah, I’ll just make extra,” Hop snorts.

“Good idea,” Max laughs, pinching Mike in the ribs.

He squeaks and jumps away—and Max laughs harder.

“Ouch, that hurt!” he whimpers.

“Good,” she quips. “Serves you right,”

{~~~~~}

Billy fidgets with the strap on his bag as they pull up the long driveway. The porch light comes on, and he knows the boys will be coming out at any second to hitch a ride home.

Nervous, and feeling so many other emotions he couldn’t possibly begin to name, Billy turns to Steve.

“This was nice. We should do this again.”

Steve gives him a funny look and snorts.

“Nice?,” he echoes, his brows raising. “Um, I think we can do better.”

A grin comes over him as Steve leans over and cups his jaw. He kisses him hungrily, like they hadn’t just spent most of the afternoon all over each other.

And, yeah. It’s really nice.

“Maybe we just have different ideas of what ‘nice’ looks like,” Billy muses, pressing another soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “But—”

As Billy lets out a sigh, Steve moves back into his seat and searches his gaze.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve mumbles. “School tomorrow. We gotta go back to being careful.”

“And keeping a safe distance,” Billy adds, sucking on his own bottom lip, tasting the salt from the fries they ate on the drive back. “It’s gonna be hard…”

“It’s gonna be fucking torture,” Steve says, barking out a laugh. “But, yeah. Nobody can know. I get it.”

“Thanks, Bambi,” Billy hums.

He tugs on the front of Steve’s jacket, pulling him closer, and gives him one more messy kiss. Then the front door swings open and they can hear the kids shouting their goodbyes; Max being the loudest, like she instinctively knows to warn them.

“See ya tomorrow,” Billy says quietly, stealing one last look at Steve over his shoulder as he clicks open the passenger door.

“See ya tomorrow, baby,” Steve says smoothly.

Billy laughs.

“Yeah, definitely none of that when we’re at school.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Steve pouts, though he’s smirking.

The boys, Dustin and Lucas, hardly look at Billy as they pass him. However, Mike gives him a good once over before sheepishly hurrying to the Beamer.

“Yeah, that wasn’t weird at all,” Billy mutters to himself.

 

After a quick check-in with Joyce and Hopper, Billy goes up to his room. As he drops his bag, he leans down and sets his alarm for Monday morning, still thinking of Steve’s soft lips on his own.

It’s hard to believe the whole weekend is gone already. Not ready for it to be over, though, he pulls up the collar of Steve’s hoodie and takes a deep breath. Steve’s calming scent washes over him, like a drug, and Billy sighs dreamily.

“So, how’s Steeeeve?” Max needles, grinning as she lurks in his doorway.

“He’s good,” Billy replies simply.

“Oh? Just good?”

Billy chuckles as she sashays in and lands beside him on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, Max.”

“And Steve didn’t wanna come in and say hi?”

“He needed to get Dustin and Lucas home,” he retorts, waving her off. “Why, did he hurt your feelings or something?”

Max rolls her eyes at him.

“No,” she snorts. “But—is that a hickey on your neck?”

Billy blushes and slaps a hand to his neck, all too aware that he’s just fallen into her trap. Because, whether or not he has a love bite, she now knows Steve had his mouth on his neck.

“Max,” he growls.

“Billy?” she hums innocently, fluttering her lashes.

He groans and slowly drops his hand.

“Fine—we had a really nice time, okay? His parents are grade-A pricks, but Steve was sweet to me.”

“That’s all I wanted to know. Well, not the bit about his parents. Yuck, does that mean you actually spoke to them?”

“Kind of,” he sighs. “Oh, they know who we are; by rumour and reputation, of course.”

“Yay us,” she drawls. “But who cares what those rich assholes think; am I right?

“Yeah, Max,” he agrees, grinning softly as he wraps an arm around her, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “Who cares.”

“Good,” she murmurs, hugging him back.

“So, did I miss anything? You’re doing okay after that whole episode with Susan? You know I still feel bad for leaving you, right?”

“Hey, if you got to sleep with your hot boyfriend for the first time, I’m not sorry you weren’t here.”

“Oh, my God,” he groans, wheezing out a laugh. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” she giggles. “Interested in my big brother’s happiness?”

“My happiness? Sure. My love-life? It’s a bit weird, MadMax.”

“Calm down. It’s not like I wanna know the details,” she says, scrunching her nose. “I still wanna be friends with Steve, and be able to look him in the eye—geez.”

“Okay, good. ‘Cause that’d be creepy.”

“Yuck, so creepy,” she concedes. “But, um, you two got to, you know, be together?”

“Yes, despite his awful parents being home, we did,” he tells her, grinning fondly.

Then he notices that the things on his desk are ever so slightly out of place.

“Did you come in here while I wasn’t home?”

Max’s eyes dart to the desk, and she swallows.

“Um, yeah. Sorry. Mike got it in his head that maybe Neil harmed—or killed—Alex. So I thought I’d look to see if you might have his number somewhere. You know, so we didn’t have to call the beach rec office.”

“Fuck, Max. You know how I feel about people going through my stuff. Neil did it my whole damn life—”

“I know; and I’m sorry,” she apologizes, accidently interrupting him. “I know you deserve your privacy. We were just being stupid and impulsive and it won’t happened again. I promise.”

“Okay, I believe you,” he sighs. “But—did you find it?”

Billy arches an eyebrow as his sister stares at him in silence. Then her bottom lip starts to wobble and her cheeks go red.

“Max—I’m not mad, okay,” he soothes, voice gentle. “You don’t need to be upset.”

“It’s not that. It’s—I found your letter. The one from your mom. From when she left and gave you that necklace you always wear. And, fuck…” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Billy. I never should’ve invaded your privacy like that. Hop—he told me more about what really happened to her. Why she couldn’t take you… And…”

Billy tugs her into his chest, holding her tight as she sobs.

“It’s okay, Max,” he murmurs, petting her hair. “It was a long time ago. She’s at peace now.”

“Just wish my mom loved me that much,” she blubbers, shaking.

“Oh, Max. She does. I mean, Susan wanted to take you back to California. She just went about it in the worst possible way.”

“Yeah, with no plans, nobody waiting to help us,” she points out pulling away a fraction to meet his gaze. “She just straight up tried to abduct me from the people who make me feel the safest. She should’ve wanted to take me away before, when she first saw Neil hurt you. She should’ve taken us both...”

“I know, Max,” Billy sighs, squeezing her tighter. “I know.”

They sit together, holding each other, for a few minutes, and Max slowly relaxes. As her tears dry up, she sits back on her haunches.

“So, you’re really not mad at me?”

“I’m annoyed, but no. I’m not mad,” he assures her. “But—I know Alex’s home number, if that will put your mind at ease, and save Hop from having to try the beach club?”

“Oh, yeah—yes,” she says, grinning. “I mean, as much as I want Neil to get the death penalty, I still hope Alex is okay.”

“Uh, that’s good,” he says, eyeing her sideways. “But, um, I’m not so sure he’ll wanna talk to me. Maybe you can talk to him if I dial?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

Max jumps off the bed, tugging him along by the wrist, and takes him downstairs. She picks up the receiver and gives him an expectant look. So, Billy takes a steadying breath and punches in the number he used to use nearly every day—sometimes twice.

“It’s ringing,” Max whispers, holding his gaze.

Billy jiggles his knee and touches his neck, trying to focus on Steve; and wishing he was here with him.

“Hello—Anderson residence,” a woman answers.

“Oh, hi—” Max’s eyes go wide as she pales. “I’m calling for Alex. It’s um. Can you tell him Max Mayfield is calling?”

“Just one moment please.”

“She’s getting him,” Max mumbles, her hand pressed over the mouthpiece. “She sounds kind of annoyed.”

“Yeah, his mom was always super unimpressed by Alex’s friends. Always thought he should go to college and get a real job, instead of wasting his time on the beach all day.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that his parents were disappointed in him, and Alex is older than you—like by a couple of years.” She snorts. “Man, do you have a type or what?”

“Shut up and pay attention, Max,” he mutters, lightly tapping her shoulder with his hand. “Honestly, you could just hang up already; you know, since she didn’t tell you he was dead.”

“Hey—Max? Is this Max Mayfield, for real?”

Billy leans in closer, listening in, and he can still picture Alex’s face. Those soft hazel eyes, bright and smiling, and hair so dark that even the sun and salt water could barely touch it.

“Yeah, hi, Alex,” she grins, curling the cord around her finger. “Sorry to call out of the blue like this.”

“Fuck—I don’t wanna know,” Alex huffs, his tone suddenly icy. “I told Billy that psycho was gonna end him one of these days, but he never listened to me.”

“Whoa, I just called to make sure Neil hadn’t murdered you. But Billy’s okay. And, we’re not with Neil anymore. My mom either.”

“Hang up, Max,” Billy hisses, his chest getting so tight that he’s finding it hard to breathe. “I mean it.”

“What—really?” Alex brightens. “Oh, shit. I seriously thought you were calling to tell me when his funeral was. Jesus, that’s great news! Is he around? I mean, why isn’t Bills the one calling me.”

Max covers the phone again.

“Bills?” she repeats, gagging. “Gross. How did I forget that he called you that?”

Billy rolls his eyes.

“I’m not talking to him. Just say goodbye and hang up.”

“Hello—Max? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta go, Alex. But thanks for being alive and everything. Maybe I’ll look you up if I’m ever in San Diego again. Bye!”

“Max—wait. What about your brother? Tell him I still think about him, like, all the time. Please, I really wanna speak to him—”

Max hangs up as fast as she can and she exhales a slow breath.

“Well, that was awkward.”

Billy pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Thanks, Max. Maybe we can just pretend we never did this, huh?”

“Sure thing,” she muses. “I mean, until Joyce and Hop get the phone bill. But, ah, I’ll just go and tell him now, anyway. So he doesn’t call the rec center.”

Billy sighs and presses his back into the wall.

“Right, yeah. Good idea.”

Max throws him a grin and runs off, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts.

Billy’s doing his best to pretend he didn’t just get a double punch to the gut, and after being home for less than twenty minutes. First he had to think about his mom, and now Alex. He just hopes nothing else pops up from his muddled past to haunt him.

The phone rings beside him, making him start. Billy plays with the chain around his neck and eyes the phone until it rings again.

“Can somebody please get that?” Joyce calls from another room.

Bracing himself, afraid Alex somehow called back their number, he picks up.

“Hello?”

There’s nothing but static, or maybe it’s air, and something else. Something that sounds like the gentle whooshing of the ocean.

“Hello—who is this?”

“Billy…”

His hand shakes so badly that he almost drops the phone.

“Who. Is. This?” he asks, voice clipped and low.

“Billy… Remember, starfish; watch out for riptides.”

The receiver slips from his grasp and he slumps to the floor, a blurry memory of seven foot waves and an angel watching from the beach, dressed all in white, keeping him safe.

“Billy?” This voice sounds more panicked, and much closer. “Billy, honey, what happened? Why’re you on the floor?”

Joyce’s gentle touch grounds him and pulls him back to safety. The vision in his head clears, and he can focus on her worried face.

“I dunno. The phone? She was on the phone,” he mumbles.

“Who was, sweetie?” she asks, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“It was her,” he rasps. “I know it.”

Joyce knits her brows together and picks up the phone, holding it to her ear. Even before she does, the monotonous beeping of the line being left idle is unmissable.

“Nobody’s on the phone, Billy. They must’ve hung up,” she says softly, reaching to set the receiver back on the cradle. “C’mon, honey. Let’s get you up. Did you eat at Steve’s house, or would you like something? I saved you some dinner because I didn’t know if you’d be hungry.”

Billy curls into her, his head resting on her shoulder.

“You’re okay, honey,” Joyce murmurs, rubbing his back. “I think maybe everything’s just hitting you now, all at once. Unless—did Steve do something wrong while you were over there?”

“No,” he manages, his voice crackling.

“His parents?”

“Not really,” he mumbles.

“Okay…”

The phone rings and Joyce tenses—and Billy clings to her.

“Hello?”

He didn’t even feel her shift to pick it up again.

“Oh, hi, Karen. You did?”

As Billy lifts his head he can feel Joyce give him a glance.

“Yeah, I think we’ve had a couple of dropped calls. Sorry about that. No—Mike got a ride with Steve. Yes, Karen; that Steve. Yeah, he should be home any minute. Okay. Alright.” Joyce sighs and rubs Billy’s back. “Yes, the kids looked adorable last night—and Jonathan took so many pictures. Yes. Uh-huh. Oh, he is? Great. Bye, Karen.”

Joyce huffs out another sigh as she hangs up.

“I hope Karen Wheeler never did anything to you,” she mutters. “‘Cause that’s who called just before. She said she heard someone pick up and ask who was calling and then nothing.”

“Oh,” Billy says quietly, taking a deep breath. “No. I mean, I didn’t realize it was her—and she never did anything to me. That would be weird if she did.”

“Super weird,” she agrees, a smile ghosting her lips. “But I needed to be sure. Gotta protect my kids, you know.”

Billy huffs out a nervous laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Does that mean I’m one of your kids now?”

She cups his jaw and offers him a warm smile.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you and Max have been our kids for a while. So, yes, Billy. And you tell Steve Harrington that Jim knows how to make people disappear, so he’d better treat you right.”

Billy can’t help the grin that fights its way onto his face.

“Oh, he knows. But, um, thanks, Joyce. Thanks for sitting with me, and everything. And not, you know, yelling.”

“Why would I ever yell at one of my kids for being upset?” she asks, genuinely baffled. “Though I do suggest we stand up before Jim sees us and wants to know why we’re on the floor. I mean, he won’t yell but he might ask a whole bunch of questions you might not feel up to answering.”

Billy nods and they hold onto each other as they stand up together.

“You’re a really good mom, Joyce,” he murmurs, giving her a quick hug. “Thanks for letting me be one of your kids.”

“Of course, and—thank you.”

He leaves his arm draped across her shoulders as they walk towards the kitchen, and she tilts her head up to him.

“It’s okay to miss her, you know,” she says gently. “And it’s okay to still be mad that she left you—both times.”

Billy smiles weakly, his heart not in it.

“Thanks. I think I know that but, most of the time, I just try not to think about her all that much anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” Joyce retorts, giving his hand a squeeze. “She made a pretty great kid, and I feel like she loved you a lot.”

“She did,” he says sadly. “That’s why I try not to think about her too much. Reminds me how much I wish things had gone differently.”

“Yeah, I know, sweetie.” Joyce pulls him down for another tight hug. “I know,” she repeats.

…

Chapter Text

 

“Hey—hey, Stevie?”

Steve distractedly stares at the back of Billy’s golden mane. Maybe it’s his imagination, but his hair seems fuller today, bouncier, softer; and his fingers itch with wanting to tangle into those golden curls. He’s a little more tired than usual, making daydreaming easy. Sure, it’s been a few days since spending almost their entire Sunday together—Saturday night, too—but he’s still recovering.

And it’s honestly the best kind of tired.

“Hey, Harrington?” Fruity bubble gum pops close to his ear. “You fall asleep with your eyes open again?”

Steve blinks and pulls his gaze away from Billy just as Tammy Thompson giggles on his other side.

“Oh, my God. Can you do that?” Tammy asks, tapping the end of her pen closer to her fuchsia lips. “That’s crazy, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’s a real madman alright,” Heather drawls, popping her gum again. “Look, are you going to the quarry tonight or not?”

“The…quarry?” Steve asks, squinting at her. “What’re you talking about, Heather?”

“I’m talking about our traditional party, Stevie.”

“C’mon, Harrington, come,” Tommy says, grinning. “You know you wanna.”

“We should sing Christmas carols,” Tammy says, out of the blue.

“Lame,” Carol groans. “Sing your dumb carols at church on Sunday, Tammy.”

Tammy looks up at the ceiling, like she’s praying her next thought will just drop out of the sky.

“Um, no. I’m pretty sure we sing those preachy songs,” she says, tapping her pen on her chin. “Uh… Hymns? And we're doing the dumb Nativity play or some garbage. So annoying.”

Heather rolls her eyes.

“Aw, you don’t wanna play the Virgin Mary this year, Tammy?” she asks mockingly.

“As if,” Tammy scoffs. “I mean, maybe if she sang? I keep telling Daddy to talk to Father Hanson about letting the angels sing.”

“I think they do sing,” Carol mumbles, snorting as she scribbles in her notebook. “Is it just me or didn’t we literally just go over this? I mean, yeah. Service would suck less if they sang something that was written after 1950.”

“Exactly,” Tammy agrees, twisting a bleached blonde curl around her finger. “I wanna sing something popular; something I like.”

Heather stares at her for a long second, then turns her attention back to Steve.

“Okay, now that that’s over with,” she quips. “Yes, Steve—it’s tradition. It’s how we celebrate Christmas break. A bunch of us are going up to Sattler’s to throw a bonfire now that there’s snow on the ground—and you should come. It’s gonna be super cozy and festive. There’s gonna be hot cocoa with marshmallows and ice skating; two of your favorite things. C’mon, show this school you haven’t committed total social suicide.”

“Bonfire, skating, getting wasted?” Tommy snorts. “Ring any bells?”

“Sure, ‘cause nothing says Christmas like getting shit-faced and falling into a firepit,” Steve remarks, rolling his eyes.

“God, you sound like your ex,” Carol mutters, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you dumped that Wheeler girl when you did,” Tammy interrupts. “I saw her canoodling in a corner of the library with that freak, Byers.”

“Wow, Thompson,” Billy snickers, turning his head. “You were in the library? Were you lost or something? You must’ve been so scared.”

“Actually, I did get a little turned around,” she admits easily. “But Andy showed me the way back out. He’s so sweet.”

Billy meets Steve’s eye for a second, sharing in his disbelief of how clueless the girl can be; and maybe a hint of something else that makes his cheeks burn. Then Billy turns to face the front of the room again, leaving Steve yearning for more.

But they agreed to act normally at school, and anywhere else public. This means keeping their same seats in class, and keeping some personal distance—which sucks.

“Earth to Harrington?” Heather needles, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Oh—yeah. I mean, no. I shouldn’t go.”

Billy glances over his shoulder at him, curious.

“Finals are coming up fast,” Steve adds hurriedly, opening his World History textbook. “I have essays to finish, and so much studying. Like, a ton. I’ll probably spend my whole winter break with my head in a book.”

“You can join our little study group, if you want.”

“Dude, why’s that weird girl talkin’ to you?” Tommy snorts.

Steve spins around, actually unsure of who just spoke. Robin ducks her head, suddenly shy, as several popular kids gape at her; some snickering.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks, offering her a warm grin. “Where do you meet, Buckley?”

“What was that you said about social suicide, Barbie?” Tommy taunts, chuckling. “‘Cause I think our boy’s tying the noose as we speak.”

Heather rolls her eyes behind Steve’s back. She then crumples a sheet of paper and throws it at Tommy’s head.

It’s a good thing that their teacher gave up trying to control his class weeks ago, otherwise they’d probably all have detention by now.

“We, um…”

Robin’s eyes dart past him, and Steve catches the nasty look Billy throws to Robin before he can turn again, pretending like nothing happened.

“We were gonna meet at Billy’s house this afternoon. Just a few of us. But…” Robin winces. “You know what? You probably don’t wanna come. It’s gonna be super lame.”

“Wheeler’s gonna be there,” Billy mutters without looking at him.

“Nah, she probably has a newspaper meeting to tie things up before the break,” Steve says, shrugging. “She’s, like, obsessed with becoming chief editor in her senior year.”

“Gross—why do you even still care what she wants?” Carol mutters, gagging dramatically. “C’mon, Billy. Fuck those nerds; and screw Harrington. Come out and play with us. Show us you’re still King.”

“Yeah, seriously, Hargrove,” Tommy interjects. “We get that you get off on getting straight A’s, but just because you live with a bunch of losers and freaks now, doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Billy shoots a foot out, knocking one leg of Tommy’s chair and making him slam forward and knock his chin on his desk.

“Hey!”

“Is there a problem, Miss Perkins?” the teacher asks, finally taking notice.

“No, sir,” she grumbles. “Tommy H is just a bit clumsy.”

“You little fucker,” Tommy hisses under his breath, dabbing at his chin with his fingers to see if he’s bleeding, which he isn’t. “I could’ve bit my goddamn tongue off, you psycho.”

“Must be all those bad habits I’m picking up from those freaks I live with,” Billy mutters, his gaze on his notebook. “My bad.”

Steve can’t help the little laugh that escapes him.

“We can study at my place,” he offers, turning back to Robin. “My parents are always out doing some dumb shit with their friends, or working late. Plus, they leave for the Bahamas tomorrow, so we can always meet up after they’re gone. I can even pick us up some snacks and swing for a pizza later.”

“Your house?” Robin repeats slowly, her eyes wide. “Um, I dunno…”

“You’d really rather study than come to our party?” Heather asks, glancing between Steve and Billy. “God, you both suck.”

“You know,” Steve leans closer to her, giving a lock of her hair a playful tug. “You could always cross over to the responsible side and join us, Heather.”

“It’s the fucking holidays, Harrington,” Tina scoffs, throwing in her two cents from Billy’s right side. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah, I’m not the senior re-taking junior level classes,” Heather remarks smugly. “Sorry, Stevie, but this girl just wants to have fun.”

Steve slouches in his seat at that, hoping Billy didn’t hear her. But who’s he kidding—everyone did. And everybody knows he’s borderline failing all of his courses.

It’s not like it’s a secret.

The bell rings and Steve hurries to catch up with Billy, hoping to salvage a crumb of his dignity. He finds him down the hall, close to the janitor’s closet, and impulsively tugs him inside.

“What the fuck?” Billy hisses.

Steve flicks on the light and nearly trips over a mop bucket.

“I needed to see you,” he mumbles, his arms quickly encircling Billy’s waist. “And talk—and touch.”

“Hm, and kiss?” he teases, brushing his lips against Steve’s before crashing their mouths together.

Steve sighs as they part after a few glorious moments.

“Feeling better, Bambi?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Missed you, baby.”

“We suck at this, don't we?”

Billy nuzzles under Steve’s jaw, making him laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, snorting. “We’re the worst.”

“Hey, we lasted almost a whole school week.”

“It’s Thursday, and tomorrow’s only a half-day, so you know everybody’s skipping,” he remarks. “Which means we really only made it, like, three and a half days.”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” Billy murmurs, kissing him again. “We can come up with a new strategy over the break.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna be thinking about ways to stay away from my hot boyfriend. Not when there’s so many fun ways I could be with my hot boyfriend.”

Billy snickers, even as Steve closes his mouth over his own, muffling the sound.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, but I'm your dork,” Steve beams.

“Yes, you are,” Billy hums, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. “But we should get out of here before Mr. Simmons needs that bucket or something.”

“Wow, you know our janitor’s name? Impressive.”

“You don’t?” Billy arches an eyebrow. “Rude, pretty boy.”

Steve winces, hating that he’s been demoted back to his former nickname.

“Okay, I’ll do better. I’ve still got until June to learn the rest of the staff’s names.” He pauses, a little nervous. “Hey, um, I was wondering…”

Billy’s blue eyes flicker with suspicion. “Yeah?”

“Is everything okay with you?” Steve tilts his head, trying to hold Billy’s gaze when he looks away. “Sorry. It’s just that you’ve been extra quiet this week. Even at practice yesterday, you seemed…distracted.”

“I’m okay,” he says quietly, smoothing Steve’s collar. “Maybe I was just a little sore from our extracurricular activities. That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve knows he shouldn’t be feeling proud of himself, but he sort of does. “Not too sore, I hope?”

“More of a comfortable ache,” Billy says easily, smirking. “Honest—I’m fine. But thanks for your concern, Bambi.”

“Hm, then you do think we should go? I mean, if you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Maybe we should leave separately, though? We don’t want people seeing us come out of the closet together.” Billy makes a face as he pulls away. “Okay, that was a bit too on the nose—but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, Bee. I know,” Steve grins. “But I meant the bonfire party. I think we should go.”

Billy turns to look at him over his shoulder, his hand poised on the door handle.

“What?”

“It would just be a good way of—I dunno. Mingling? Make it less obvious that were always hanging out together—alone. Just the two of us.”

Billy scrunches his nose.

“But you made it sound so stupid. You even came up with excuses, like, so fast it was kind of scary.”

“Yeah, but…” Steve sighs and shakes his head. “Okay, never mind.”

“Let me think about it, okay?” Billy softens and offers him a smile. “But you realize we’re talking about a party where Andy and Tommy will both be there, right? And it’s outside—in the cold—and in a place that probably involves trespassing.”

“Yeah, I know, but we do it every year and nobody ever gets mad or anything,” he says, shrugging. “It’s tradition, or whatever. And, this year, you’re living with the police chief. So, that’s almost a guaranteed get out of jail free card.”

Billy levels him with a look, not exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

“Okay, but. If it sucks, we can cut out early and go back to your place for hot chocolate.” Steve reaches out to give his arm a squeeze. “You know; get all cozy in your tiny bed together.”

“That sounds great and all. But is this a party you took Nancy to last year?” Steve holds his breath and—thankfully—Billy catches onto his discomfort right away. “Yeah, you’d better not tell me. I actually don’t wanna know.”

Steve exhales, relieved.

“On the plus side, Nance definitely won’t be there this year.”

“Not exactly a pro, Stevie. But—I’ll still think it over.”

“That’s all I ask.”

When Steve gives him one of his impish grins, Billy fists the front of his sweater and tugs him in for a messy kiss.

“Why’s it so hard to say no to you?”

“Maybe because you like me so much?”

Billy laughs and shoves him away, making Steve laugh too; even when his knee hits the bucket. Then they slip out of the closet. Billy goes first, and Steve waits almost a full minute before following. The second bell rings and he has to run to make it to his next class.

But, all in all, the payout of getting Billy alone for five minutes was definitely worth the risk.

 

After the final bell of the day, Steve spots Robin walking towards the buses. It’s not like she’s alone in not passing her driver’s test, but it does feel a little odd, at her age, to be taking a big yellow bus to and from school. He manages to catch her eye, but she tries to swerve around him; and fails spectacularly.

“Hey, I thought you were going to Hargrove’s place—or the Byers’, or whatever?”

Robin looks over her shoulder and ducks away from him.

“You know what? Billy just told me they’ve got cats. And, wouldn’t ya know it? I’m allergic,” she rambles, her hands gesturing wildly. “So, yeah. It'd be pretty awful for me. Hard to study and get work done while my nose is running and I feel like scratching my own eyes out; not to mention the constant sneezing. So, um, I took a raincheck. Besides, I think he said his car’s in the shop? Yeah, he doesn’t have it for some reason? Something about a broken taillight and crack in his windshield, I think? Anyway—”

Steve rushes to get in front of her again, trying to push away images of Billy’s poor smashed Camaro from his mind.

“Well, I know we don’t know each other well, but you could still come over to my place,” he offers, feeling a little desperate to make nice with her. “My car’s perfectly fine. And—maybe Billy’ll join us. I think he’s picking up his car this afternoon. Or—better yet. Why don’t you come with us to that party tonight?”

“I dunno, Harrington. You’re, like, Mister Funny and Mister Used-to-Run-the-School kind of popular. Feels kinda risky to go off to your big house by myself. And you know as well as I do that I’m totally not invited to that party.”

Robin takes a few hurried steps away from him.

“But—you could be Billy’s date, or something? Like, figuratively, or whatever.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she remarks, throwing him a weak smile. “I mean, I guess you’re not so terrible, but I don’t think Hargrove needs you making dates for him.”

“Um, thanks, I think. But… Think about it? If not as a date then just as a group hang? You do those, right?”

“What? Sorry. Can’t hear you,” she calls, shrugging dramatically and running to catch her bus.

Steve deflates, his ego more than a little bruised. He thought maybe it would be a good idea to get to know Billy’s friends—his real ones. But Robin ran from him like a scared bunny from a hungry fox.

Weird.

“Um, yeah,” Steve calls, embarrassed. “Maybe we can study in the library sometime?”

Robin simply waves as she steps onto the big yellow bus, brushing him off.

Okay, so they won’t have a buffer at the party. So what?

Steve makes his way over to the parking lot. Max’s red hair is unmissable as she tugs on Will’s wrist, pulling him towards Jonathan’s jalopy, much to Mike’s annoyance. He wistfully watches the pair get into the backseat before wandering away to find his sister.

And, sure enough, Billy’s climbing into the passenger seat.

Figuring it’s now or never to get his answer, Steve adjusts the satchel strap on his shoulder and marches up to him.

“Did you need something, Harrington?”

“I was just kind of wondering if I should come over since we don’t have basketball and everything. You know, to study? Although, your friend, Robin, just backed out—which. I’m not really sure what that’s about.”

“Yeah, Robin,” Billy’s mouth twitches. “She means well, but she doesn’t exactly have a filter. And I already told her I couldn’t study tonight, but she must’ve forgotten. Besides, I’m with everybody else; it’s the holidays—lighten up.”

“No—yeah, she told me,” Steve retorts, digging his boot toe into some melting slush. “And—it’s fine. I just…” He huffs out a sigh of frustration. “What about the party? The bonfire? Have you decided?”

“I have to go,” he mumbles, glancing at Jonathan patiently waiting behind the wheel. “My Camaro should be ready for me by now. Hop said the body shop would be installing my new windshield.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Steve says, offering him a grin as he bounces on his feet. “But… What about later?”

“I hope it’s not the party at the quarry,” Jonathan interrupts, giving them a weird look. “It’s literally a restricted area. They could all get arrested. Honestly, the kids in this town are so dumb.”

“You’re not going to the quarry, are you?” Will asks hurriedly, looking up at Billy from the backseat.

“Hey, Hop and Jonathan made a small rink off our dock,” Max cuts in, leaning between the front seats. “Why don’t you just invite your dumb friends out to our place? I mean, as long as they stay out of our house, I think it should be fine.”

“Max,” Will warns. “That’s a really bad idea.”

“Actually…” Steve lights up, remembering his ice skates. “It’s given me a really good idea.”

“Why do I always get nervous when you look inspired?” Billy mumbles.

“You come by it honestly,” Jonathan snorts. “And you’re not alone.”

“Look, you can come or not, but I think I’m gonna go,” Steve says brightly, biting his bottom lip as he grins. “I’ll call you before I head out.”

“You can’t be serious,” Billy scoffs.

“Hey, I can’t spend every free moment I have with a bunch of kids.” He pauses to shrug and give Max and Will an apologetic look. “No offense.”

“Well, when do Mags and Dick leave for the Bahamas?”

“Uh, not until tomorrow,” Steve supplies, sighing. “So, this way we can hang out with people our own age and have a little fun.”

“You mean, you can,” Billy mutters, but then Steve gives him his best puppy-dog eyes. “Fine,” he groans. “Call me later, Stevie. But I’m not making any promises.”

“Sounds like a yes to me,” Steve beams, hurrying away before Billy can argue. “Call ya later!”

{~~~~~}

The gentle rumble of his Camaro’s engine sends thrills through Billy’s entire body. It feels like a lifetime since he’s felt her perfectly broken-in driver’s seat under him, and her cool radio dials beneath his fingertips, and seen her weathered dash.

“Missed you, baby,” he hums, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror.

After picking up his baby from the shop, riding high on memories of engine grease and the smell of gasoline fresh in his lungs, Billy caved and agreed to go to the dumb party. Because of course he did. He’s been to Sattler’s quarry a few times during his short stint in Hawkins, and knows it’s a prime make-out spot. He’s also well aware of the lore, and he avoided letting Will know he was going.

But why Steve thinks it’ll be great fun to hang out with their delinquent, so-called friends is beyond him. Especially if sex and alcohol are involved; and they always are at these kinds of parties.

His gaze locks on the glove compartment, knowing there’s a pack of Marlboros stashed inside with at least a few cigarettes left in it. But Billy decides not to light up. Not yet.

He might need them later if this night truly goes to shit.

Shaking off his anxiety, fuelled by flashes of Tina’s Halloween party mixed with Joyce’s sweet, motherly concern as he left for the night, he cuts the engine and pockets his keys. At least he hasn’t had any new hallucinations since Sunday. That’s something, isn’t it?

Steve throws him one of his flirtiest grins as he approaches the BMW and slots into the passenger seat beside him. As much as he tries, Billy can’t fake the same level of enthusiasm.

“You’re really sure you wanna do this?”

Shit. Steve must’ve picked up on his misgivings.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Billy sighs, tugging his hat down over his ears. “Besides, it’s like you said. If we hate it, we can just leave early.”

Steve nods and reaches to flick the pom-pom on the top of his hat.

“Fuck, you look so cute like this.”

“I look like I’m from some dorky kids movie, like Frosty,” Billy gripes, checking his reflection in the side mirror. But, sure. If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Steve hums, grinning smugly.

“God, this is gonna suck. You brought beer, right?”

“Uh, duh. Not sure they’d let us stay if I didn’t.” Steve eyes him. “I thought you just said you wanted to be here—and now you’re saying it’s gonna suck. What gives?”

“Nothing,” Billy huffs, forcing a smile. “Look—see? Happy face.”

“More like scary face,” he grumbles, reaching to massage Billy’s tight cheeks with his gloved hands. “Please stop. You look like a maniac when you grin like that.”

“This is just how I look, Bambi.”

“No…” Steve continues his ministrations, and Billy can’t help but laugh. “There—this is how you look naturally. My handsome boyfriend.”

Billy snorts, his stomach filling with unwanted butterflies.

“Oh, are we using labels now, Bambi?”

“I mean, that’s what we are, right? Boyfriends?”

“Hm, I guess. Just get it all out now,” Billy teases. “No more boyfriend crap once we leave this car.”

“Aw, but I love our boyfriend crap,” Steve pouts, fluttering his lashes.

“Me too,” he admits easily, leaning in and clicking off the overhead light before kissing him. After a few seconds, Billy makes himself pull away, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re sure you’re not just going to do this thing for me?”

Billy groans internally; he’s definitely only doing this thing for him.

“Yeah—we talked about this. Being social and not always hanging out as just us is a good way to throw people off.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

“It’s just until you graduate,” Billy adds when Steve trails off. “C’mon, before somebody notices we're just sitting here, fogging up your windows.”

Billy can hear Steve sigh as he gets out of the BMW, causing the overhead light to come on again. And it hits him then, how they’re as close to being found out as a single flick of a light switch.

As Steve unlocks his trunk, Billy follows him. He smirks at the trusty nail-bat under the old picnic blanket.

“I thought you were gonna burn that thing and get a new one?”

Steve glances up at him, handing him the twelve pack.

“That was before we had our first kiss on it, remember? You helped me re-christen it,” he snorts, his breath coming out in white puffs.

“Oh, right,” Billy hums, hugging the beer to his chest. “Well, in that case, you’d better keep it.”

Steve takes out something else before shutting his trunk and slipping his keys into his jacket. Billy turns, eyeing him.

“Are those… Ice skates?”

“Yeah, there’s, totally, a cleared area for skating here. Fun, right?”

Billy can’t think of anything less fun. Freezing his balls off and slipping around precariously, praying he doesn’t fall and crack his head open on a literal sheet of unforgiving ice as hard as concrete.

“No,” he says bluntly.

“What?” Steve gives him a funny look. “You’ve never skated before? I mean, surely they have indoor rinks in California?”

“Rollerskating—sure. Once or twice. Skateboarding; yes. Surfing; I’m a God. But those fucking things look like torture devices. So, um, no thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Steve chuckles.

They make their way from the sea of parked cars to the fire already blazing, close to the frozen, man made, pond. Tommy, Andy and Jason all cheer as Billy holds up the case of beer, and he thinks, for a second, that maybe this night won’t be so bad.

Then Billy spots Heather, Tina and Nicole giggling. The dancing flames give them a more menacing, predatory air as they rake their gaze over him, whispering and licking their lips. And, as he makes himself look away, telling himself that he doesn’t have to feed into their fantasies, he thinks he sees somebody lurking just beyond the halo cast by the bonfire.

“Not fucking now,” he mutters under his breath.

The lanky figure cackles and flicks his long hair; and Billy feels like an idiot. It’s only Eddie Munson, the school’s most well-known drug dealer, peddling his wares. He’s probably selling at highly inflated prices tonight, and making a killing, given how deep these kids’ pockets seem to be.

Munson must spot him out of the corner of his eye because he nods and waves.

“Got your wheels back,” he calls. “Nice!”

Billy snorts, amazed that this guy he’s spoken maybe three words to, ever, even noticed.

“Yeah, sprung her after school,” he calls back, his brows knitting together.

“Awesome,” Munson remarks, grinning. “She’s pretty metal, your old girl. Good to know her wheels are back on the road, tearing up this sleepy town.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s not as metal as your van, but she does alright.”

The guy laughs as he turns to hand over a baggie of weed to one of the other party goers.

“Well, if you need anything special to help celebrate her return, you know where to find me.”

“Sure thing—thanks, man,” Billy says, although he has no intention of taking anything tonight. A couple of beers should be enough to keep him rosy.

“Hey, you sharing, Hargrove, or what?” Andy laughs, gesturing to the case of beer under Billy’s arm that’s getting heavier by the second.

“Maybe he brought all that beer just for himself,” Tina teases. “He’s a big guy, ya know.”

Billy snorts and helps himself to a bottle before passing the case to Andy.

“Here, knock yourselves out.”

He can feel Steve walk up behind him, like he was biding his time and making an effort to not be too clingy. Playing his own part. Billy pops the top off his bottle, with one of his keys, and downs nearly half of it in one go.

“Hey, man,” Steve chuckles, patting Billy’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

“I’m just trying to catch up, Harrington,” Billy snorts, waving his beer around. “You should too.”

“Nah, I’m a designated driver tonight. Though, I might try roasting a few marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” Billy repeats, throwing him a withering look.

“Ooh, I have some! Found some good, long sticks, too.”

Billy knows that voice, he just hasn’t the foggiest idea why he’d be hearing it here, of all places.

“Robbie?” Billy says her name, slow and cool as he turns around to find her perched on a fallen tree trunk. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, um, Harrington invited me,” she squeaks. “I wasn’t gonna come, naturally. But then I thought—when else is somebody gonna invite me to a senior bash?” She snorts and holds up her bag of fluffy marshmallows. “And maybe it’s high time I stop avoiding people. Plus, this way we can hang out without any cat dander. Unless you have some on your clothes.”

Billy hopes his face is schooled and not giving away the abject horror he’s feeling at the moment.

“Aw, I think she’s got a crush on you, Hargrove,” Tommy cackles, flinging an arm around Billy’s neck. “But, hey. Sometimes the quiet geeks are the freakiest in the sack.”

“Fuck off, Hagan,” he huffs, knocking him away. “And leave Buckley alone.”

He can sense Steve watching him as he lands beside Robin and takes another swig of his beer.

“I was gonna skate,” Steve says weakly, glancing around. “Anybody else up for a spin around the ice?”

“Um, that’s a hard pass,” Carol snickers. “But you can join Miss Goodietwoshoes and her celibacy husband, if you want.”

Billy looks over at the same time as Steve, catching Jason kneeling down in the snow to tie Chrissy’s laces for her, like some kind of chivalrous dork.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve mumbles.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Heather says, side-stepping to block him and pressing a mitten into his chest. “Keys first, Stevie. You know the drill.”

Steve looks down at the knit hat in Heather’s other hand, and then he steals a glance at Billy.

“Uh, I think I heard him say he wasn’t drinking, Holloway,” Robin interjects, snorting. “So, he can keep his keys.”

“You’re new here, so I’m gonna let that dumb remark slide,” Heather says, giving her a cool smile. “But we collect all the guys’ keys so that us girls can pick them out at random. Makes things… Interesting.”

“Fine—take ‘em,” Steve sighs, tossing the keys to his BMW into the hat. “But I’m still going skating.”

Billy seethes, his rage bubbling too close to the surface.

“That little fucker,” he grits out. “Look, Robin, if you wanna leave, I can take you home.”

“What—no,” she says, squeezing out a laugh. “I wanna stay and see how this all plays out. I mean, there’s more girls here than guys, so I don’t have to participate. In fact, maybe I’ll aim for Harrington’s keys, since he seems so disinterested.”

“Sure, honey,” Tina muses, throwing her a wink. “That’s why you want his keys.”

“Hey—” Billy bumps her arm, nodding down to his hand and showing her his keychain. There’s a miniature skateboard on it, from Max, and the silver metal Chevy decal that came with his Camaro. “You can pick mine, if it’s easier,” he whispers.

Robin smiles, appreciative, as he slips his keys into the hat.

“Thanks, but you’re sure you don’t wanna hook up with Heather?” she asks, also whispering. “She’s been looking at you like you’re prime beef since you got here.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he admits, finishing his drink.

Tommy swoops in, handing him another fresh beer, the cap already off. He turns and pitches the empty bottle into the fire pit, and the glass makes loud pops as it shatters in the flames.

“Whooo!” he hollers. “Now it’s a party! Brandon—music!”

Startled, Robin snatches the beer out of Billy’s hand and takes a gulp.

“Easy, Buckley,” Billy says, giving her a funny look. “You don't strike me as the type who drinks casually on weekends.”

“I’m fine,” she says dismissively, taking another long drink. “But—which one’s Brandon?” she asks a second later, squinting to see past the glare of the firelight.

“That one—the meathead,” Billy says, pointing to the guy with the boombox. “He dressed as Highlander at Halloween. At least I think that was why he was wearing a kilt. He’s got nice calves, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“You know, I always thought Highlander was a rip-off of Bram Stoker’s Dracula,” Robin says, ripping into her bag of marshmallows. “The whole immortal seeking the re-incarnation of his lost soulmate thing? I mean, sure there’s a cultural difference, and it’s set more in our modern times, but still. You can see the parallels.”

A grin tugs at the corners of Billy’s mouth, and he has to admit that having Robin here maybe isn’t half bad.

“You talk a lot,” he muses. When she stuffs another marshmallow in her mouth, her cheeks glowing pink, he puts his hands up. “No, no. I like it—honestly. I wasn’t trying to disparage you. Trust me. I live in a house full of talkers—and it’s never boring.”

Robin grins, the fluffy white marshmallow looking like a set of very white teeth.

“Aw, you’re so cute,” Heather coos, landing on Billy’s other side with a thermos. “I have hot chocolate if you’re interested, band girl.”

“Oh, um…” Robin tries to chew faster, pointing at her mouth when she can’t talk.

Billy winces as she downs another third of the bottle of beer to wash it down.

“Sure, Robin’ll have some, Heather,” Billy says smoothly, offering her a grin. “But, um, hey. Where’s that hat with the keys in it?”

“Oh, Tina took it,” she says, unbothered as she unscrews the top of the thermos. “What can I say? The girl likes to host, even when the party’s out in the wild.”

“She. Took. It?” Billy asks, trying not to lose his cool.

“Yeah, to collect the rest of the keys, silly,” Heather hums. “Here, sweetie,” she adds, passing the plastic cup past Billy to Robin. “Wash down all that sugar and dilute some of that alcohol you just chugged.”

“Thanks,” Robin manages, burping. “Shit—sorry.”

Heather laughs and hands Billy a cup as well. “No worries,” she muses.

Billy blows on the steaming cup before taking a sip. “Mm, this is really good, Holloway,” he hums. “Thanks.”

“It’s my mom’s recipe,” she beams. “No store bought powder mix can compare.”

“Well, you can tell your mom that it’s like heaven in my mouth,” Robin says dreamily.

Billy chokes on his sip, and some of the hot chocolate goes up his nose.

“Um, thanks,” Heather giggles, patting him on the back. “You okay there, Keg King?”

“Yeah, just dandy,” he wheezes.

They sit watching the bonfire for a while, listening to the too loud pop music—and Tammy Thompson singing along. The heat of the fire proves to be much more than Billy expected, and he abandons his hot chocolate, finding it was only making him warmer.

“She sings like an angel,” Robin coos, her lashes fluttering as she watches Tammy sway to Madonna. “Dontcha think?”

Billy grunts and squints at Tammy’s big hair and bright blue earmuffs. Then he sees Eddie making faces behind her, each one more exaggerated than the last, and all of them nasty.

“Sure, if you like that sort of thing,” Billy says, holding in a laugh so hard he almost chokes on it.

Robin blushes and he wonders if maybe drinking that one beer was enough to loosen her tongue.

“Wait… Buckley, do you like that sort of thing?”

Billy tries to keep Robin’s gaze, but she pulls away, laughing. It’s starts off a quiet, anxious sound, then quickly turns into a fit a giggles.

“Um, is she okay?” Heather asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I think so. But maybe no more sugar or booze for Buckley tonight.”

“Good idea,” she snorts. “We don’t wanna break her on her first night out.”

“Well, that was a bust,” Steve mutters, suddenly hovering close by. “The ice was a mess. Chrissy nearly twisted her fucking ankle, so we gave up.”

“Shit, is she okay?” Heather asks, genuinely concerned. “She’s one of my best cheerleaders.”

“Yeah, she’s okay,” he sighs, throwing down his skates behind the log and sitting beside Robin. “I caught her before she could go down, much to Jason’s annoyance.”

“Yeah, he’s weirdly obsessed with her,” Billy remarks. “Like, they formed that fucked up, Christian celibacy club, and yet he’s always acting like he can’t wait to get in that girl’s panties.”

“Shit, that is fucked up,” Robin mutters, nursing her drink.

“Right?” Steve huffs. “Anyway, did I miss anything?”

“Nah, just Tommy and Brandon dancing around like horny little idiots,” Heather says, rolling her eyes. “Oh, and Tammy singing super loud, and really off-key.”

“So, nothing,” Billy chuckles.

Steve grins, looking all rosy cheeked, his hair ruffled, and Billy can almost forgive him for only giving him half-truths about the night.

“Okay, girls!” Tina holds the hat high above her head, the weight of it making the wool stretch and elongate as it jingles. “Who’s ready to pick a set of keys?”

Billy winces, his head feeling a little dizzy. Yeah, maybe he can’t forgive him after all.

“I vote the new girl should go first,” Nicole says, flashing a dangerous smirk as she glares down at Robin.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure, Buckley,” Billy encourages. “Why not?”

Robin takes a deep breath, holding it, and sticks her hand in with the same trepidation as a person expecting something to bite them. She keeps her gaze on Billy, her brows drawing together, then she abruptly yanks her hand back out.

“You know what—I wouldn't want to deprive some other girl of having a good time tonight. I’d better not.”

“Suit yourself, band girl,” Tina snickers. “Who’s next.”

“What do you mean you put your keys in?” Chrissy’s voice echoes off the high quarry walls as she shrieks in frustration and whacks her boyfriend with her mittens. “You jerk!”

“It’s just a silly tradition, Chris,” Jason mopes. “Just because some other girl pulls my keys doesn’t mean I have to do anything with her.”

“Yes, it does,” Nicole mutters, giving him the stink eye. “At least a kiss or something, choir boy.”

“Yeah, but do we really want Carver to kiss us?” Tina remarks, scrunching her face. “His lips are probably as limp as his dick.”

“Oh, my God—” Chrissy cries, hiding her face in her mitts. “Don’t talk about my boyfriend’s you-know-what!”

“Why not?” Carol snorts. “Doesn’t feel like you ever do.”

“It’s fine, Chrissy,” Jason says, trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. “Look—I’ll take them out if you’re that upset.”

“No way, Jay,” Tina teases, yanking the hat away. “Girls only.”

“That means I can take keys, right?” Chrissy asks, glancing at Jason.

“What?” he squawks. “No, sweetheart—come on!”

Chrissy plunges her hand in, rooting around, and the other girls cheer her on, much to Jason’s humiliation. She finally throws her hand up, her prize dangling from her fingers and her face splits into a grin.

“I’ve got a leather keychain with a bunch of metal studs and…” She squints at it in her palm. “A BMW logo?”

Billy’s head whips to his left, and he meets Steve’s bashful gaze.

“Yeah, that’s mine,” Steve says, blushing a little as he raises his hand.

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” Jason chuckles. “She’s putting them back.”

“Um, no. I’m not,” Chrissy mutters, walking over to Steve and perching on his knees. “Hi, Steve. I guess we’re paired up for the night.”

Steve looks sheepishly up at Jason, Andy moving to his side, and they both throw him a death glare.

“I guess we are,” he says, huffing out an anxious laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m not drinking tonight and totally respect your whole ‘waiting until marriage’ deal you’ve got going on.”

“I mean, I could be persuaded,” Chrissy murmurs, her finger hooking under his jacket collar. “You know, by the right guy.”

Jason growls, ready to pounce.

“Okay—I’ll go next!” Nicole declares, mercifully cutting him off as she dives for the hat.

Weirdly, she gets Jason’s keys. He smirks and makes a show of throwing an arm around Nicole. Then he marches her off to the other side of the bonfire, where Chrissy can’t see them—not that she seems concerned at the moment.

All the girls take a turn until it’s down to the last three: Heather, Tammy and Robin. Billy swallows, practically sweating through his parka, as Heather makes her pick.

“Down to the last set of keys,” Carol says teasingly, winking at him.

“Really?” Heather asks innocently. “I feel two sets.”

“Yeah, nobody’s pulled mine yet,” Andy huffs, crushing a beer can against his forehead.

“Well, these definitely aren’t yours, Walsh,” Heather remarks, flashing the keys she picked at him. “Aw, look at the cute mini skateboard.”

“S’she ya witch?” Robin asks, her wirds a bit slurred as she gives Billy a dubious look. “I swear I felt ‘round for your keychain when ‘was my turn, but I couldn’t feel it.”

Billy blinks, suddenly flushing and needing to unzip his too heavy coat.

“You don’t think she…?”

“Pulled ‘em out before givin’ the hat to Tina?” Robin whispers, snorting. “Um, duh. Must’ve.”

“What’s going on, you guys?” Steve asks, craning his neck to see past Chrissy snuggled under his chin. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s peachy, pretty boy,” Billy mutters, tugging off his hat, his curls damp with sweat. “As long as Holloway having my keychain is cool.”

“It’s Heather, Bee,” he says easily.

“Yeah,” Chrissy chirps. “Don’t you owe her a date, anyway?”

“Right—exactly,” Steve agrees.

“Really, that’s your reaction?”

“Am I missing something, or are you two not getting along?” Robin hedges, looking from Billy to Steve and then back again.

Tammy squeals excitedly, jumping up and down.

“I got Andy!” She sings.

“Condolences,” Heather mumbles.

Tammy’s head snaps towards her. “What?”

“I said congratulations,” she laughs. “Good for you!”

As soon as Tammy turns away, Heather rolls her eyes. Then she jangles Billy’s keys in front of him.

“C’mon, honeybee,” she hums, smiling like the cat that finally caught the mouse, as she holds out a hand. “Let’s go somewhere and get cozy.”

“Chrissy—Let’s go home,” Jason barks, suddenly back, though his jacket and hair look a little disheveled.

Billy flinches at his tone.

“Fuck off, Carver,” Steve spits, curling a protective arm around Chrissy. “You shouldn’t have put your keys in if you don’t want your girlfriend to play too.”

Chrissy presses in closer to Steve as they walk away, leaving Billy confused, frustrated, and feeling like he might actually fucking melt to death.

Maybe he is just like Frosty.

“Okay, gorgeous. Looks like it’s you and me,” Billy sighs, getting to his feet, desperate to get away from the bonfire. “But I need a minute to cool off first. I’m seriously sweating bullets from sitting here so long.”

“Works for me,” she grins, looping both of her arms around one of his.

“Will you be okay on your own, Buckley?” Billy asks over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, sipping her hot chocolate that’s most likely gone cold by now, her stolen beer bottle long empty. “I’m cool.”

Billy shoves his hat and gloves into his pockets. Then he finally manages to catch Steve’s eye as they move past the bonfire. His boyfriend has the audacity to give him a cheeky grin and an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Steve didn’t tell you to swipe my keys, did he?” Billy asks, lowering his voice. “Because that doesn’t explain him throwing his own keys into the hat.”

Heather stops walking when he does, and she tilts her head up to him.

“No, but I’ll admit that I stole your keys on purpose,” she says with pride, giving his arm a squeeze.

“You did?” His brows knit together. “But—why?”

She’s quiet as they walk closer to the parked cars, away from the others. A truck to the right is already rocking, and he starts to wonder if this might’ve been what Heather had in mind when she swiped his keys for herself.

Billy slows his pace, stalling.

“C’mon, Holloway—spill,” he says, chuckling.

She sighs and glances up at him, chewing on the corner of her mouth.

“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot in a very short time, most of it not so great. And I know I wasn’t exactly nice to you, in the beginning, but I hope you’re willing to give me a second chance. I mean, you gave Stevie one,” she says, shrugging. “Anyway, I feel like you could use a good time. And you deserve to be paired with a girl who isn’t gonna be completely annoying and selfish.”

“Heather…”

A tug on his arm keeps him from walking away, then the snow crunches beneath Heather’s boots as she leans up, using his arm to keep herself steady. Soft lips press against his own, in a heated kiss.

“Heather,” he says again, holding her shoulder to gently keep her from kissing him again. “I’m… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

“Well, I don’t see them here, now,” she points out, smiling. “Do you?”

Billy can’t help but look over at Steve chatting with Chrissy. To his surprise, and relief, they look to be building a snowman and laughing like a couple of kids.

“Heather…” Her name gets muffled when her mouth closes over his.

A rush of heat in his core makes his skin prickle and burn even worse than when he was sitting too close to the bonfire. He desperately claws at his coat, needing to get it off, and Heather laughs, delighted, thinking he’s super into her.

“Can’t wait until we reach your backseat, huh?” she remarks as he throws his parka onto the ground. A beat after, she frowns, her breath catching. “God, you weren’t kidding. You’re drenched, Billy.”

Heather slips off a mitten and reaches to touch his forehead. Being too short, she settles for his neck.

“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he grumbles, swatting her hand away.

“Billy—fuck,” she hisses.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to knock your hand. Did I hurt ya?”

“No,” she mumbles.

Heather quickly picks up his coat as he moves away, clumsily arranging it in her arms, and she chases after him. Billy walks, directionless, towards the trees, his long stride making it difficult for her to catch up.

“Billy—stop. You’re not hot!” she calls, stumbling through the untouched snow. “How are you sweating this much; and you aren’t feverish?”

“What?” Billy squints at her, beads of sweat stinging his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Please put your coat back on. You’ll catch your death out here.”

Billy tilts his head to look at her, and the world spins around him. Dropping to his knees, his stomach lurches. But he doesn’t puke, not yet.

Heather cries out and hurries to drape his coat around his shoulders.

“Stay here—don't try to get up.”

Everything spins faster as he tries to meet her gaze. But Heather’s gone by the time he manages to focus. Someone else is there now. Standing at his shoulder, looming close and making his head pound.

“Go AWAY!” he screams.”Why can’t you just let me be happy for once?”

He lets out a pathetic laugh that turns into a sob, knowing, deep down, that he doesn’t deserve any measure of happiness. As he quiets, Billy swears he can feel someone’s cool breath ghost the shell of his ear. Of course, it could just be the cool night breeze, but then that wouldn’t explain the stench of rot that’s polluting his mouth and nostrils.

“Get. The. Fuck. Away!” he grits out.

“You’re already mine, William,” a low voice echoes in his head. “No one can save you. Not even that boy who pretends to care about you. He only wants one thing, William. Just like all the others.”

A sharp pain burns through his eye socket and splits his skull. Billy cries out, his body shivering and shuddering, then he drops into the snow, numb, on his side—and blacks out.

 

…

Chapter Text

“I haven’t made a snowman since I was a kid,” Chrissy laughs. “This is really fun, Steve. And, most of all, it’s bugging the heck outta Jason.”

“Yeah…” Steve glances over to where Billy’s walking casually with Heather, and a pang of guilt makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. “I mean, I guess he deserves it—a little.”

“Darn right he does,” she says, rolling her snow ball closer to him. “I mean, I don’t want to kiss another boy in front of him, but he started this nonsense. He made his big stinky bed, so he can just lie in it.”

“So much for turning the other cheek,” Steve mumbles, snorting.

“I don’t think that applies in this case,” Chrissy says thoughtfully. “But that girl from the school band was really getting sloshed. We should probably check on her soon. I don’t trust some of the guys on your team, Steve.”

“Yeah, I don’t either, if I’m honest.”

“Hm, you’re pretty good at this, though, we should have our little guy all made and done pretty quickly.”

“We made snow people a couple of weekends ago,” he chuckles, helping her lift the second large snowball to sit on top of the first.

“Snow people?” she giggles. “And who’s we, exactly? Like, who is Steve Harrington hanging out with these days?”

He grins, unable to help himself, she’s being so nice.

“Uh, we called them snow-people because of this girl—Will and Jonathan Byers’, uh, sort of new sister? It’s complicated. Anyway, she didn’t get why we called them ‘men’, so we decided they were just people, and could be either.”

Chrissy smiles brightly, her cheeks and nose all rosy.

“That’s a really sweet story, Steve,” she hums. “But what were you doing playing with your ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend’s family?”

“Oh, I was over at their house to hang out with Billy,” he says, chuckling. “You’ve probably heard by now that he’s living with them.”

She slowly nods, eyeing him, her smile dimming.

“You and Billy… Hung out with his sister’s friends and made snow people?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Steve swallows, no longer laughing. “Billy’s trying to rebuild his relationship with Max. It’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Gosh, I wish I had a sibling I could be close to. My sister was always so perfect—so beautiful. She was too busy for me once she was in high school. She’s my mom’s favorite, you know. Perfect Bethany. Taller, blonder, thinner, more agile, and way smarter. That’s my big sis.”

“Yeah, I remember Beth,” Steve mumbles, patting some of the snow flatter on the side of the snowman’s head. “She was a senior when I was a sophomore. Her cheer squad used to come to our swim meets. Always struck me as ridiculous to have cheerleaders at the side of a fucking pool.”

“I think they only did that a couple of times,” Chrissy laughs. “Sorry—I’m laughing ‘cause our mom was furious. All you half naked boys in those little speedos. I thought she was gonna have a heart attack. Sometimes I wish she had.”

“Yikes, is she really that bad?”

Chrissy’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, no—I mean. Shoot. Can we just pretend I didn’t say anything? It’s, like, a sin to speak ill of your parents. Honor your mother and father, and all that.”

“Um, you know Billy’s father treated him like some kind of dog for years, and then nearly beat him to death, right?”

“Wha—no!” she squeaks, horrified, her hands flying to her mouth. “Goodness, gracious! That’s horrible, Steve.”

“Oh—shit. Well…yeah. That’s what happened…”

Steve trails off as someone catches his attention. It looks like it might be Heather. She’s running over and waving her arms in the air, her ponytail swaying.

“What’s wrong?” Chrissy asks, squinting up at him. “Oh, um, Steve? Steve that scary guy’s coming over here. Like, really fast.”

“What?”

“Hey, Harrington! Fuck—”

Steve startles, whipping his head around to find Eddie dancing from foot to foot, clearly under dressed for such deep snow.

“Uh, Munson—what’s going on?” Steve asks, standing and brushing the snow off his jeans.

“Dude—that mousy chick,” Eddie begins, out of breath and shaking a foot in the air. “Sorry. Fuck. I’ve got so much goddamn snow in my boots it’s distracting. That girl—freckles, dirty blonde hair? She was, like, really out of it. I saw that Brandon guy go over and keep her from, like, slumping off her log. But then I had Nicole asking me if I had condoms—and I was all: I’m not that kind of supplier—”

“Eddie!” Steve claps his gloved hands together. “Focus—what happened to Robin?”

“Well, when I looked over again, Brandon was by himself. So, I asked him. I asked where the girl went. You know, to make sure she didn’t fall into the bonfire.”

“And?” Chrissy needles, getting to her feet. “Did she?”

Eddie blinks at Chrissy, as if noticing her for the first time, and a big grin slowly splits his face.

“Well, hi there, little cheerleader. Awfully far from your pampered boy-toy, ain’t ya?”

Steve groans and picks up the skates, removing the bladeguard off of one before swinging it at Eddie.

“Munson, you’re gonna tell me where Buckley is—right this second—or, so help me God, I’m gonna gut you with my skate.”

Eddie’s hands fly up in front of him.

“Geez, cool it, man. Brandon said Walsh was gonna take her home. But I saw Thompson do her happy dance when she pulled his keys—and then I might’ve noticed her perfect hair being all messed up, like, say ten minutes later and she did not look at all satisfied. Yeah, that girl looked pissed.”

“I hope she smacked that groping jerk,” Chrissy mutters. “He’s such a pig. I honestly don’t even know why Jason likes him.”

“Well, now I need to go and find that pig,” Steve grumbles. “It’s my fault Robin even came tonight, and I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to her. You didn’t sell Tommy or Andy anything, did you, Munson? Anything to knock somebody out?”

“Jesus—I only brought weed and uppers with me, okay,” Eddie cries. “Stuff that’ll give a person a good time, not make ‘em crash out. If anybody put anything in her drink it must’ve been sleeping pills. Those things get unpredictable when you mix ‘em with alcohol.”

“You’re sure?”

“About which part?”

“About your innocence,” Chrissy huffs.

“Oh, I mean, I know I’m not exactly innocent,” he says, giving Chrissy a sly grin. “But I swear I had nothing to do with this.”

“Fine, I believe you,” Steve mutters, his brows knotting together in anger. “Let’s go.”

Just then, someone else slams into him.

Steve nearly gets whiplash as Heather suddenly yanks his arm. He was so caught up in finding out about Robin from Eddie that he forgot about the petite brunette trying to wave him down.

“Stevie—come with me!”

“Wait, Holloway. Where’s Billy?”

“He passed out,” she grumbles. “He’s, like, hypothermic or something. Which makes no sense since we were literally away from the fire for no more than fifteen minutes. But I guess he overheated, first. Was taking off his hat and coat, but I thought he was just getting a head start, you know. I mean, can a person get chilled that fast?”

Steve knows he shouldn’t have let Billy drink so much, and maybe—in hindsight—he thinks he should have ditched the whole pretending to be into girls thing. But what’s done is done, and Robin could be in real danger, or at least more than his irresponsible boyfriend passing out drunk. So, Robin takes priority.

“Yes, Holloway,” Eddie says, scoffing. “Maybe not life threatening levels, but he could definitely be at risk of frostbite.”

Heather pauses, narrowing her eyes at Eddie.

“What’s he doing here? Why is he following us?”

“He came over to tell me about Robin. Apparently Andy’s feeling bold tonight and he might’ve taken her somewhere to try and take advantage of her.”

“Hence the skate,” Chrissy says, glancing at Steve’s hand.

“Technically, the skate was for me,” Eddie says, grinning crookedly. “But Walsh deserves it more.”

“Okay—enough, we don’t have time for this. Heather, take Munson to Billy and get him into his Camaro and pump the heat up—full blast. Chrissy, come with me. We need to get Andy away from Robin.”

“What?” Heather whines. “You must be joking!”

“I know which car is Andy’s, Heather. And Eddie can help you lift Billy out of the snow,” he calls over his shoulder. Just—we can’t keep arguing.”

“Fine,” she growls. “C’mon, stoner.”

“Actually, that’s a common misconception…” Heather glares daggers at him. “Okay, never mind,” Eddie winces hurrying to keep up.

 

Steve finds Andy’s car within a minute. Sure enough, the windows are foggy and there’s soft moaning coming from inside. He pounds on the glass, tempted to just smash it with his skate.

“Open up, Walsh!” he shouts, knocking again. “Get your weasel dick away from that girl!”

“Fuck off, Harrington!” Andy cries. “Just ‘cause Christly Cunningham didn’t wanna give it up, doesn’t mean you can come and ruin my good time!”

“People don't actually call me that, do they?” Chrissy warbles, hugging herself.

Steve glances at her, his stomach twisting.

“I mean, not often,” he admits, unable to lie to her for some reason. “But who cares what a pervert like Andy thinks about you?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. Back to smashing his window,” she says, taking a step back.

He offers her a weak smile and raises his skate, high in the air.

“Open the car door, Andy! You have to the count of three, and then I’m breaking your damn window. One. Two—”

The backseat door flies open, missing Steve by a few inches, much to Andy’s dismay. Andy twists around to look at them, and he’s clearly on top of a set of legs.

“Get. Out.” Steve growls, his skate blade glinting in the moonlight.

“Hey, you and Hargrove both left her. That makes her up for grabs.”

Andy rolls his eyes and slides closer to the door, then Chrissy gasps, and quickly averts her gaze, as the guy has to re-arrange himself before he can zip up his fly.

“I heard Buckley was basically unconscious when you so graciously helped her to your backseat, you prick. That’s not cool, Walsh.”

“Whatever,” Andy snorts, his boots finally landing in the snow. “The nerd should be grateful.”

Steve shoves him in the chest, hard, and he falls flat onto his back. As Andy lets out a stunned grunt, Steve can’t help but smirk, now knowing how satisfied Billy must’ve felt when he knocked him down so easily that night at the Byers’ old house.

That’s when he remembers Billy—and realizes he needs to get Robin out of there faster.

“You okay, Robin?”

“Mmph. Scratchy,” Robin mumbles. “No cats, Harger-rove.”

“Does she think Billy was on top of her?” Chrissy asks, arching an eyebrow. “Because Andy’s no Billy.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve drawls, trying hard not to think about all the girls who still want inside of his boyfriend’s tight jeans. “Okay, Rob. Let’s go.”

Andy glares at her, then tries to get up. But Chrissy presses her foot into the center of his chest, pinning him in place.

“Ah-ah. You stay,” she mutters. “And don’t even think of trying to hurt me or you’ll have Jason and Heather on your ass, and not in a fun, kinky way.”

Steve pauses to blink at her over his shoulder. Then he returns to checking Robin over, unbelievably relieved when he finds her own pants are still up. In fact, she’s wearing overalls, and only one of the clasps is unclipped at her shoulders.

A laugh bubbles up from Steve’s chest.

“Hair-town?” Robin drawls. “Y’ever think ‘bout cutting back on the nasty hairspray?”

“Yeah, it’s me. And I think you’re gonna be just fine, Buckley,” he snorts. “Gonna get you home now.”

“Noooo,” she whines. “Was having fun…”

Her protests stop abruptly when Steve manages to slide her legs out of the backseat and swing her into a sitting position. She sways, looking a little bit green.

That’s when Andy manages to roll out from under Chrissy’s foot. He jumps up and knocks into Steve, sending him staggering sideways.

“Who the fuck even wears overalls?” Andy whines, straddling Robin’s knees. “C’mon, geek freak—gimme another chance. Promise to give you a good time.”

Robin lifts her glassy gaze up to him, her cheeks puffy; and she pukes all over the front of his coat. Chocolate, flashes of sticky marshmallow, and whatever else she ate that evening, paint him like a Jackson Pollack.

“Oh, shit,” Chrissy gasps. “At least it wasn’t you, Steve.”

Andy lets out a shriek, his hands curling into fists as he stomps off like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“You feeling better now, Robin?” Steve asks, careful not to get too far in front of her, or too close yet.

“You stupid bitch!”

“Shut up, Andy.” Steve barks. “Who drugged her drink? Clearly you knew she was gonna be out of it.”

“Was meant for you and Hargrove,” Andy huffs, falling to his knees to try and wipe away the mess with some snow.

“What do you mean it was meant for us?”

“Ask Hagan. It was his big idea. Something about how Billy’s always hanging out with you now. Like you’re the new Wheeler, fucking up his plans and stealing his Keg King, or some bitchy nonsense. Was probably gonna wait until you both conked out, and then take some dirty pics of you together. You know, some really faggy stuff, like you being half naked and rubbing your dicks together.”

Something about Tommy’s evil plan makes Steve’s stomach curdle. Maybe it’s the ugly reminder of how horrible some people can be to people like him and Billy. It could also be the harsh reality settling in, that he might actually need to take care of Tommy for fucking with their lives, once and for all.

“Yeah, that sounds like Hagan,” Steve mutters, huffing out a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

Robin lurches forward and projectile vomits the last of her stomach’s contents into Andy’s hair.

“Fuck—that girl’s dead. Socially destroyed.”

Robin manages to lift her hand, throwing him a shaky middle finger before wiping her mouth on the back of it.

“I don’t think she cares—and you totally deserve it, creep,” Chrissy laughs as Steve zips up Robin’s jacket. “I mean, she didn’t come tonight to get popular. Which I sort of admire about her. And she certainly didn’t intend on getting groped by you.”

Chrissy’s unexpected show of backbone takes Andy by surprise, and Steve too. But he doesn’t have time to marvel at her unexpected assertive streak, not with Robin and Billy waiting on him.

“Feel better?” Steve hedges, dipping to meet her gaze.

“Much,” Robin says, grinning.

“Good. No more puking?”

She shakes her head, slowly, from side to side.

“Okay, here we go,” Steve says, tucking under one of Robin’s arms and hauling her onto her feet. “Huh, never noticed how tall you are before. Makes this kind of easier. I mean, unless you pass out.”

She lolls her head to the side to give him a withering look.

“Where’re we going?”

“To my Beamer,” he says, adjusting his hold on her as they move around a parked jeep. “I’m guessing you got dropped off since you don’t drive. I’ll have Heather take you home.”

“Are you sure you should send her home like this?” Chrissy says carefully. “Didn’t you tell Eddie that you felt responsible for her? ‘Cause her parents are gonna take one look at their daughter and know she’s drunk, and maybe drugged. Besides, Heather hitched a ride with me and Jason. So, she doesn’t have her car with her.”

“Ugh, fine. I guess we should keep an eye on her too, if she was drugged, and everything.”

“So, where’re we going?” Robin asks again.

“Still to my car,” he tells her, snorting.

“I’ll go and grab your other skate and mine, too,” Chrissy says, bouncing off. “Don’t leave without me, okay?”

That’s when Steve realizes that Chrissy still has his keys.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to!” He calls, groaning. “Hurry, please!”

{~~~~~}

Everything sounds muffled and far away. As Billy tries to focus, straining to see, well, anything, he finds that the only light is coming from a crack under a door. At least, he thinks it’s a door.

The heavy boots and deep baritone muffled by the door really sell it for him.

He knows where he is, but it’s impossible. He can’t be here. He can’t be locked in the basement of the house they lived in when his mom left. Before Neil started luring other desperate women into his web of lies and deceit.

No, this isn’t right; it can’t be real…

 

“Here ya go, big guy,” Eddie huffs, settling Billy on the backseat. He tries to rest his head on the headrest, but it keeps falling forward, his chin pressing to his chest.

“Ah, okay. You just, um, stay like that,” he adds, patting Billy’s shoulder. “Man, he’s gotta weigh close to a hundred-eighty pounds, easy.”

Eddie glances at Heather, confused by the look on her pretty face. “What’s up, princess?”

“It’s really roomie back here,” she says, sighing before climbing in beside Billy. “It’s like fate itself is against me. I mean, every time I try to get this jerk’s attention, something crazy happens—like this.”

He tries not to laugh when she thumbs at Billy’s unconscious face, but chokes out a chortle.

“I mean, you gotta cut the guy some slack. He lived his whole life in a sunny state. He doesn’t get how our winters work.”

Heather rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. I just hope Steve gets back soon.”

“I think I see him coming.” Eddie squints. “Yeah, that’s definitely his hair.”

Billy groans softly and lifts his head, his lashes fluttering as he looks from Heather to Eddie and back again.

“What happened?” he asks, a hand moving to press into his temple.

“You went all crazy taking off your coat and then you passed out,” Heather says dryly.

“Oh, I did?” A smooth grin curves his lips, and Billy sits up straighter, his gaze steady on her. “Well, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he adds, his words as easy as his smile. “Please, let me make things up to you, Heather. One last chance? I’ll take you somewhere very nice; just you and me.”

“Not now, you won’t,” she mutters, scoffing. “You’re a mess, and I seriously don’t trust you not to pass out again.”

“Maybe tomorrow, then?” he asks, tilting his head closer. “Please?”

Eddie arches an eyebrow at them, finding something very off-putting about Billy’s cadence.

“You doing okay there, amigo?” Eddie needles. “You sound, like, the opposite of drunk. Whatever that is.”

“I’m fine…” Billy stares at him for a beat, like he might be searching for his name in the back of his mind, and coming up empty. “I feel fine, now.”

“Uh huh,” he snorts. “You don’t feel sick, or wanna puke, or anything?”

“No, I feel perfectly fine. Perhaps a bit… In need of a shower.”

“Oh, you definitely need a shower, honeybee,” Heather remarks, pursing her lips as she digs around in her pocket. “I don’t know what’s taking Stevie so long, but here—” She takes out his keys, the little red skateboard dangling from her hand just before she presses it into his palm. “Take these. Steve’s gonna need them to drive you home.”

Billy’s grin falters and his fingers squeeze around the keys.

“Watch out, Holloway,” Eddie warns. “I think he might hurl.”

“Uck, not on me, he’s not.”

She crawls out of the Camaro, lightening fast, as Billy’s brows knit together and his face scrunches.

“What—did you—?” He grunts and shakes his hand, almost violently, like he’s trying to throw the keys away, but can’t. “No—stop it!”

“Dude, just puke,” Eddie mumbles, annoyed. “You’ll feel way better. Trust me.”

“Hey, how’s Billy doing?” Steve asks, a bit out of breath as he arrives, Robin still tucked into his side.

“Yeah, I’d keep my distance,” Heather remarks, moving to get in his way. “That asshole didn’t hurt your friend, did he?”

“No, we got there in time. But—why? What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Eddie mutters. “Just Hargrove looking like the living dead and still finding the need to hit on Holloway.”

“More like that little girl in The Exorcist,” Heather grumbles. “Just waiting for his head to spin around and the pea soup spray.”

“You’re joking?” Steve snorts.

Billy lets out a blood-chilling scream, as if in response, his body writhing as he arches his back off the seat.

“Holy fuck!” Steve slides Robin into Eddie’s arms. “Take her. Billy—Billy, baby. You’re okay. I’m right here. Shit, I’ve got you, Billy. Can you hear me?”

He hurries onto the backseat, holding Billy’s shoulders while he shakes and his muscles convulse.

“C’mon, baby. I’m right here—you’re okay. Fuck, what’s wrong?”

Eddie and Heather exchange a look.

“Did he just call him… What I think he called him?”

“So, you heard that too?” Heather mumbles, frowning.

Billy quiets and collapses against the seat, his chest heaving.

“It’s okay,” Steve murmurs. “Fuck—you’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

“I wanna go home,” Chrissy mumbles from behind them. “I was having such a nice night before those disgusting jerks went and ruined everything.”

“Ditto,” Robin mumbles, belching.

 

Neil’s hateful voice bellows, shaking the door in its hinges, and Billy retreats down the basement steps, curling into a ball and covering his head with his arms.

“Tell me where she is, you ungrateful brat! Tell me where that whore of a mother of yours went—and the name of the bastard she’s been seeing. Because, if you don’t, you can just rot down there for all I care!”

“Daddy, please—I don’t know!” he cries, his voice sounding younger, and so scared.

A fist pounds on the door, hard enough to nearly splinter the wood.

“Stop lying to me, William! I know she left you a note, or told you—but she’s not coming back for you. That bitch doesn’t love you like I do. I’m the one who clothes you, puts a roof over your head and feeds you. All she ever did was try to poison you against me!”

“I don’t know…where she is!” he cries brokenly. “And even if I did, I’d never tell you—you’d only hurt her!”

“Then you’ll stay down there until you change your mind,” Neil growls. “And no crying, you little pussy!”

The heavy footfalls move away from the door, and it really sinks in that he’s stuck down here, in the dark. Billy knows there’s no bulb in the socket, even before he tries the light switch, but he clicks it anyway, to no avail.

Desperate, he presses his cheek to the top step as he tries to see under the door. It’s not quite as dark, but it seems just as empty.

But then Billy starts to hear voices; voices that sound strangely like Heather and Eddie Munson. Then he hears someone else talking. No, not someone else—it’s him.

Billy’s talking, but it doesn’t sound like him.

A chill runs up his spine, and Billy begins to claw at the door.

“Hey! Somebody! Let me outta here!”

A shadow falls over the crack under the door.

“Why?” his own voice asks sharply. “Who would even miss you? Not these useless children. Not Steven, or Maxine. And Joyce Byers will be glad to be rid of such a burden. Because that’s all you’ll ever be, William. An unwanted burden.”

“Shut up! You’re not real!”

“But I am real, William. Very real,” he says cooly. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not until I take back what is mine; what’s owed. And you, dear William, are going to help me. So, stay a while. In the dark. Where you belong.”

 

“Billy, talk to me,” Steve pleads, cupping his jaw. “C’mon, buddy. Look at me—you’re gonna be okay.”

The keys fall out of his hand, onto the seat, and Billy let’s out a ragged breath.

“It’s so hot in here.”

“Yeah, the heat’s turned way up—but the door’s still open. It’s actually still pretty cold.”

“Is it? Well, I feel quite hot, Steven. You can turn it down again.”

“You just had some kind of seizure or something, Bee,” Steve says shakily. “I think I should take you to the hospital.”

“My temper just got away from me a little,” Billy assures him. “You know how volatile I can be. Please—take me home. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I really don’t believe you,” he says quietly, his brows furrowing. “You don’t live with Neil anymore, Billy. Getting you to the hospital is the right call. I don’t want anything else bad to happen to you.”

“Stevie—is it okay if I take Buckley home now?” Heather hedges. “Because my vote is also on taking your boy to the emergency room. But, um, can I borrow your wheels? Promise to drive super slowly.”

“I absolutely second that motion,” Eddie remarks, raising his hand in the air. “He might not think he drank too much—but any amount of pills mixed with alcohol can be bad news for some people.”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve turns his head to meet her gaze. “I’ll call you tomorrow about getting my car back, Heather. Just…go. And drive safe, okay?”

“You heard the man. Let’s get Robin into Steve’s car,” Heather says, giving them a wary glance. “Keys, Cunningham?”

“Oh, right.” Chrissy hands Heather the keys to the BMW. “Do you think she’s gonna be okay?”

“She’s doing better than Hargrove, that’s for sure,” Eddie points out. “Did she puke at all?”

“Oh yeah, like, all over Andy,” she giggles. “Front and back.”

“Then she’s gonna be fine,” he chuckles, helping Robin into the backseat. “Right, Buckley?”

“Ugh, my mom’s gonna kill me for getting wasted,” she whines. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Just consider it a right of passage, sweetie,” Heather tells her, reaching back and patting her knee. “Can you get her seatbelt on, please. I don’t need my passenger drunk and rolling around While I’m trying to drive a car that isn’t mine.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie snorts. “I’m not your freakin’ butler or whatever. Chill, Holloway.”

“Let me do it,” Chrissy offers, leaning past him. “Just gonna put your seatbelt on, okay?”

Robin groans. “M’kay. Thanks…”

Chrissy clicks it securely and then gently shuts the door.

“Okay, Heather. All set.”

Heather throws her a wave and revs the engine. The car purrs and rumbles, and she carefully pulls out of the makeshift parking lot.

“Hey, um, if I’m no longer needed, I think I’m gonna get back to my van, defrost my balls, and get the fuck outta here. That cool with you guys?”

Chrissy gives him a funny look.

“What?”

“Do you, um, think you could give me a ride home?” She asks, adjusting the skate laces looped over her shoulder. “I really don’t want to see Jason right now, or any of those other guys. And I think Heather’s got her hands full with Robin.”

Eddie stares at her for a beat, then he does a dramatic dip, practically half tumbling forward, and his hair flops into his face.

“If that’s your desire, milady; your chariot awaits.”

“Oh, my God—you scared me!” Chrissy giggles, playfully hitting his arm. “How is such a tough-looking guy like you so silly?”

“Ah, am I silly or chivalrous?” Eddie needles, wagging his brows.

“Ya, I don’t know about that. I guess you’ll need to convince me,” she says, blushing. “Goodnight, Steve. I hope Billy’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, you take good care of your baby, Harrington,” Eddie calls, grinning wryly.

“Why did he say that?” Billy asks, squinting at Steve.

“Don’t get mad,” he mumbles, smoothing a damp curl out of Billy’s eyes. “But I think I might’ve called you that while I was trying to get you to calm down, and snap you out of whatever was happening.”

A tight grin tugs at one corner of Billy’s mouth.

“Interesting,” he hums. “So, it would upset you if something were to happen to me?”

“What kind of fucked up question is that?” Steve asks, offended. “Yes, Billy—I’d be devastated. And, look. I’m sorry about tonight. It was a stupid idea to act like we weren’t together and to flirt with the girls. I get that now. Because I missed you, like, every damn second. So, please—just let me take you to get looked at, and then we can put this whole fucking mess behind us.”

Billy smiles cooly.

“Take me home and I’ll never mention it again,” he murmurs, his head falling back to rest on the seat.

“What—no,” Steve retorts, wrangling Billy’s seatbelt around him and clicking it securely. “I’m taking you to the hospital—end of story.”

“Steven…”

Steve glares at him as he dips to snatch Billy’s keys from where they’ve fallen to the floor.

“I get that you’re pissed off at me, and you feel like shit, but can you please stop calling me that? Only my parents call me Steven, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“Steve—I simply wish to go home,” Billy says flatly as Steve inches away from him.

“I’ll call Joyce once we get there.”

Not wasting any more time, Steve crawls out of the back of the Camaro and shuts the door before quickly sliding behind the wheel.

“Steve…”

“Just try to relax, baby. I know you hate the idea of somebody else driving your car, but desperate times and all that.”

The key turns and the engine roars to life. It’s definitely more sound and fury than Steve’s used to, but he’s pretty sure he can handle it.

“Hang on, Bee; here we go,” he says, glancing at Billy in the rearview mirror, then finally easing his foot down on the gas.

“Steve—home. Now,” he huffs. “Listen to me, Harrington. No hospitals. I need to get home to Will and El.”

“And Max?” he quips, gripping the steering wheel as they take a sharp corner. “Max is gonna be worried out of her mind.”

“Exactly. So take me home.”

Steve shakes his head.

“You didn’t see yourself have that weird convulsion, Bee. It was scary as Hell.”

Billy lets out a low, animalistic growl behind him; and a sudden pounding on the back window has him swerving on the road, startled.

“Too hot,” he hisses, the heel of his hand smacking the window. “Open the damn windows!”

Shooting an annoyed look behind him, Steve wonders why Billy doesn’t just crank the window down. Then he notices the space for a missing window crank, like it broke off at some point and never got replaced.

“Wasn’t this car just in the garage?” he asks, snorting. “Where’s your thingy to roll down the window?”

“I don’t know, Steven,” Billy mutters, his foot kicking into the back of the driver’s seat. “But you need to shut off the heat and pull over, right now.”

“Wait—why don’t you know where your crank went?”

Steve looks over his shoulder, and Billy’s sweating again, just dripping with it. And, when he glances back again, he swears he can see ugly black lines snaking up his jaw.

“Holy shit! What’s that crawling up your face?”

“Stop. The. Fucking. Car!” Billy roars, pounding on the glass so hard that it’s a miracle that it doesn’t shatter.

Something scratches at the back of Steve’s mind. Something about intense heat and black veins, and that Upside Down stuff that was inside of Will—and that shadowy figure that’s been stalking his boyfriend.

And Steve starts to think that maybe Billy isn’t drunk, or drugged; maybe he’s possessed.

But just as Steve’s connecting the dots, blood rushing in his ears, Billy’s boot heel hits the driver’s seat with enough force to knock his chest into the steering wheel—and Steve slams on the break.

It all happens so fast, and the Camaro skids on a patch of ice before coming to a full stop on the shoulder. Steve manages to set the parking brake before leaning his seat back and twisting around.

Billy’s eyes roll back as his body spasms, and Steve scrambles to unbuckle his own seatbelt to climb into the back. Steve sits, half on top of his boyfriend, and firmly grips his shoulder while he taps Billy’s cheek with his other hand.

“Billy!”

He gets the belt undone, but he doesn’t open the door, not yet.

“Billy—baby. C’mon. Fight that evil shit inside of you. Come back to me.”

Not knowing what else to do, alone on a dark stretch of road, Steve presses his lips to Billy’s, kissing him softly.

“I love you, you big gorgeous dork,” he mutters, leaning his forehead to Billy’s. “Please—don’t let this thing take you from me. Not now; not after how hard you’ve been fighting for the life you’ve always wanted—the life you deserve, with people who love you...”

 

The light under the door grows brighter. No, not just brighter, but warmer. It starts to bleed around the edges of the frame, touching Billy’s cold flesh and chasing away the darkness.

Then Steve’s voice carries with it. Gentle words so full of affection and concern. Words that fill him with hope, and give him the strength to stand up. And he takes a run at the locked basement door—full throttle.

 

“I love you, Billy Hargrove,” Steve says again. “I don’t care if we’re boyfriends, or not. Just, please—I need you. Max needs you.”

As Steve kisses him again, more desperate, messy, Billy’s eyes fly open. He sucks in air and coughs, almost like he’d just been drowning.

“Billy?”

Billy’s face contorts as his hand reaches past him, snatching the lost crank from inside the pocket of the seat in front of him. He then deftly sets it in place and quickly winds the handle, lowering the window all of the way.

“Are you—-what are you?”

Billy’s head pitches out the window and he pukes his guts out, his hands trembling as they hold fast to the frame. Steve huffs out a laugh of relief, then he tries to steady Billy, and gently guide him back inside of the car.

“Billy—fuck. Are you okay?”

“No,” he croaks, tears streaking his hot cheeks. “Where… What happened?”

Steve closes the window and finds a box of tissues, using one to wipe the corners of Billy’s mouth.

“You passed out in the snow,” Steve says, voice quiet. “Then, when you woke up, you were being all creepy with Heather—insisting she go out with you again. Wasn’t a fan. And then you kept telling me to take you home; and this was after you had some kind of seizure.”

Billy’s gaze searches his, his bleary blue eyes full of sheer terror.

“I thought I heard him—but…wasn’t me, Stevie,” he warbles, clinging to his sleeve. “Hates me. Hates Ellie. Wants to be close to Will.”

“Okay, Bee,” Steve murmurs, the weight of the moment truly sinking in. “Okay. I’ll take you to the hospital. We won’t go home. And I’ll call Hop once you’ve been seen.”

“Thank you, Bambi,” Billy breathes, his strength leaving him, and he shivers. “‘N keep the heat up. So fuckin’ cold.”

“Will do, baby. Gonna keep you nice and hot. Just hang on for me. Okay? Hawkins’ Memorial is ten minutes out.”

Billy manages to nod, his fingers slowly uncurling from Steve’s jacket.

“Does that mean… Did you hear what I said?”

Billy cracks one eye open, his lower lip wobbling.

“Yeah, Bambi,” he mumbles, taking a shaky breath. “Love you, too; dork.”

Steve feels like he might shatter, but he lets out a broken laugh, instead.

“Okay—hang in there. Ten minutes.”

Smoothing the sweat damp hair from his eyes, Steve kisses Billy on the cheek.

“Ten more minutes,” Billy repeats.

{~~~~~}

Hopper schools himself before entering the hospital. He’s still in uniform and being in an emergency room will always garner him unwanted attention. So, freaking out before he even knows the full story isn’t an option.

But he is, he’s totally freaking out on the inside.

His boots feel heavy, like bricks of concrete, as he stomps up to the desk. The nurses on duty are busy tonight, fielding calls and getting paperwork filled out, and they look right past him.

Thankfully, just as Hopper is about to lose it on some over-worked staff member, he spots Steve walking towards him from the elevators.

“Harrington,” he calls, tugging his hat off. “Hey, what’s happening? Where’s Billy?”

“Hey, Chief. Billy’s still being assessed. But they admitted him. Something about his history of being knocked around being enough of a concern or something,” Steve mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks for coming, though. They’ll only tell me so much, and I couldn’t face calling Joyce and dealing with her crazy mom energy right now.”

“Hm, I guess that honor will fall to me, then,” Hop mumbles, following him to a set of chairs. “Sit down, kid. You look ready to collapse.”

Steve stares at the chairs for a second before plonking himself down.

“Yeah, sorry. Honestly—I’m sorry this night ever happened. I should’ve listened to Billy and just had a quiet night in. I feel like such a jackass.”

“Wallow later,” Hop huffs, fidgeting with the flaps on his hat. “Just tell me what happened. You said Billy was acting like he was possessed. You’re sure he wasn’t just high, or drunk?”

Steve gets a faraway look in his eyes as he slowly moves his head back and forth.

“No way. This was something else. He was sweating like a popsicle in July, and felt just as cold. And he spoke in this creepy, calm way; until he didn’t. Then he was shouting at me, sounding like that piece of shit—Neil. Plus, he called me Steven, like, at least twice. Was so… It wasn’t him, Hop.”

“Still sounds like a bad trip to me,” Hopper says, even though his gut is already telling him that Steve’s right. That Billy’s in this much deeper than they’d thought.

“Really? Even with the puddles of sweat, despite being all cool and clammy? And the fucking freaky full body spasms? I mean, c’mon, Chief. Billy didn’t even know where his window crank was.” Steve snorts as he gestures. “Then, when he finally snapped out of it, he went for the crank right away, and puked his guts out the window.”

“Are you talkin’ about the handle in the back? The one that he broke off ‘cause it kept digging into his skull whenever he used to sleep in his Camaro, back in California?”

“Ooooh, that’s why he didn’t wanna replace it,” Steve murmurs. “He really is a sentimental mush-ball, isn’t he.”

Hopper eyes him sideways.

“Yeah, he kind of is. But, uh, getting back to tonight.” Hopper pauses to lean back in his chair. “Did Billy do anything else? Anything other than acting a bit off and yelling?”

Steve gazes at the floor, or possibly at the boots and shoes of the people moving through the waiting area.

“I didn’t spend the whole night with him,” he admits, his fingers digging into his thighs. “But once I was with him again, after all that crazy shit went down, he just… Billy didn’t want to come here. He insisted I take him home. But—it didn’t feel like before. Like, it wasn’t about coming to the hospital. It was more about getting to El and Will. It was weird, ‘cause Billy didn’t even mention Max, and she’s always his first priority.”

Hopper huffs out a long sigh and sinks lower in his seat.

“Okay, it does seem to all be adding up. If everything’s connected, then even the particles that were forced out of Will would be aware that El was the one who closed the mother gate; and maybe that’s what they want. Revenge for being cut off from their own dimension.”

“But why Billy?”

“He was alone at the Byers’s house. Alone, unconscious, and vulnerable. He was easy pickings. Not to mention how tough and strong he is, physically. Billy’s a tank compared to Will. Not that I’d ever think he was capable of hurting our kids, but we both know he’s been prone to violence.”

“Yeah, he was—as in, past tense. He’s trying, Chief. He really is. Which is probably what’s kept the monster at bay for so long. That evil Mindflayer probably thought they’d hit the jackpot when they found Billy. But he’s changed so much since that night, and all for the better.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know he has,” Hopper mumbles, glancing over at a mother with her crying baby. “But why tonight? Why, after all this time, did that otherworldly monster get Billy in a choke hold?”

“Not sure.” Steve bites his lower lip, shaking his head. “Maybe I made him feel bad when I asked him to play along and act like a couple of normal, dumb teenagers. Which, by the way, is how my last fucking night with Nancy started out. So, yeah—I’m an idiot. But, otherwise? I dunno. It was really cold, and the bonfire was super hot. Two extremes, or whatever. Maybe that had something to do with it?”

“Yeah, that sounds right, but I’m not exactly an expert on this stuff. I think I’ll call Sam once we see Billy. I just hope that stuff about his mom, and his ex, isn’t still eating at him.”

Steve pauses, halfway to standing, and squints at him.

“What stuff, Chief?”

Hopper can feel his stomach drop into his boots.

“I, uh, sorry. I thought Billy would’ve told you. He seems to tell you everything these days.”

“Uh, no.” Steve looks away, his chin tucking to his chest. “He didn’t. I wish he had, though. I knew something was bugging him, but he said he was just tired.”

“Look, it wasn’t really anything. Max just wanted to make sure Neil hadn’t done anything to the boy Billy was… You know. Close to—before they moved. But the guy’s fine. A bit of a narcissist from what Max has said about him, but he’s alive.”

“And Billy’s mom? What was that…” Steve swallows. “Wait. Did Billy talk to this guy?”

“Not exactly. Joyce says Max did the talking but Billy was listening.”

Steve's eyes go wide.

“Fuck, Chief. He couldn’t even talk to him? Oh, yeah, me and Max are having words.”

Hopper can’t help but chuckle a little.

“Okay, but go easy on her. Billy was already prickly about her snooping, trying to find that guy’s phone number. And… I had to make sure she knew Billy’s mom was dead, which was upsetting for the both of us.”

“Upsetting for you?” Steve scoffs, throwing him a withering look. “What about Billy? You didn’t see him, Hopper. I thought he was going to smash his car up, or worse. Like actually kill himself if that seizure didn’t do it for him.”

Hopper gets to his feet and holds Steve by the shoulders, trying to ground him before he really flies off the rails.

“I get it—it was scary. And I’m sorry you had to see him like that. I fucking wish you hadn’t, that it never happened at all. But it did, and he’s still alive and still himself.”

“Yeah,” Steve says shakily. “Yeah, I mean, I think so. They won’t let me in to see him.”

“Is Doc Jackson not in tonight?”

“Uh, no. It’s a woman,” he replies, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Doctor Palmer, I think.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s go and talk to her and see what’s up.”

“Okay…”

Hopper can tell Steve’s right on the edge of a breakdown, so he tugs him into his chest and holds him tight. Steve lets out a ragged sob, his fingers clawing at the chief’s jacket, hugging him fiercely.

“It’s gonna be okay, Steve. You did the right thing. You snapped him out of it and brought him here.”

“M’kay,” he mumbles, hanging on for a few seconds longer. “Thanks, Chief. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Feel a little better now?”

Steve finally let’s go and wipes his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

“A bit,” he huffs out a bitter laugh. “Can’t let Bee see me like this. Won’t help.”

“Maybe not, but letting him know you care about him this much will be good for him.”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbles, sniffling as they walk to the elevator. “Yeah, I guess. I know I never want him to think I don’t care, and I might’ve been close to making him feel like it tonight.”

“I’m sure he knows that’s not true.”

Steve glances at him, forcing a smile.

“I really hope so, Hop.”

 

An older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun meets them just inside of Billy’s room. Hopper can see Billy in the bed past her, looking pale but peaceful.

“Chief Hopper,” she says quietly, lifting her gaze from the chart in her hands. “Sorry to interrupt your night of filing reports and going to the scene of yet another car skidding off the road. A lot of black ice tonight, I hear.”

“Yeah, we always send Callahan on those calls,” he says, amused. “You must be Dr. Palmer. Tell me, will Jackson be taking over in the morning?”

Palmer glances at Steve, offering him a weak smile before looking over at Billy.

“I’m afraid Dr. Jackson is away visiting family for the holidays,” she says, pursing her lips. “So, you’re stuck with me for the duration, Chief.”

Hopper’s shoulders tense, and he prays that the vein in his forehead hasn’t just popped out.

“Okay, well, have you done any tests on him yet? Where are we at, is what I’m asking.”

“Billy was quite out of it when he arrived. Still responsive, just very groggy. His friend said they’d been at a party tonight, but Steve said he wasn’t with your foster son the entire time. Therefore he couldn’t speak to how much he’d had to drink, or if Billy could have taken any recreational drugs while they were apart. So, we pumped Billy’s stomach, to be safe, and took a blood sample.”

Palmer relays all of this like it’s business as usual, and it leaves Hopper with an uneasy feeling.

“Depending on the blood results, I might have to keep him longer than just overnight,” she continues. “That being said, I’ve admitted him to be monitored for any more seizure activity, and placed him on an IV to help with his recovery. If necessary, I’ll order a CT scan tomorrow.”

“Okay, good,” Hopper mumbles, sighing. “Can we sit with him for a minute? I know it’s after visiting hours, but I hate to leave him all alone.”

“You can, Chief Hopper. As his legal guardian, I don’t see any issue. But his friend will need to go.”

Palmer starts to guide Steve out of the room, but the poor guy keeps craning his neck, trying to see Billy.

“Hey, Doc? How about you let Steve stay. He’s really worried—feels kind of responsible. Plus, he has a lot of experience with being respectful in a hospital setting.”

She sighs, thinking it over.

“I suppose it should be okay,” she says at last, moving aside. “As long as you keep an eye on both of them.”

“Of course,” Hopper assures her. “And, oh, hey. I might have a friend of mine take a look at Billy’s results too. Especially if you run that brain scan.”

Palmer sets the chart into the slot at the end of Billy’s hospital bed and arches an eyebrow at him.

“Can I talk to you in the hallway, Chief Hopper? It will only take a minute.”

Hopper nods, though he’s wary of what other shoe is about to drop.

“You good, kid?”

Steve looks up at Hopper from where he’s already half-lying on the bed beside Billy, one of his hands pressed between his own.

“Sure, Hop. He’s just sleeping,” he says, voice tight. “We’ll be okay.”

It breaks his heart a little, seeing the hurt in Steve’s big brown eyes, like he still feels like he’s to blame for everything. If anything, Hopper feels responsible. It definitely made him feel kind of fuzzy all over when Palmer called Billy his foster son.

“What’s up, Doc?”

Palmer frowns. “I prefer you call me Dr. Palmer, or Janet. But I’m not in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, Chief Hopper.”

“Yeah, okay. I hear you—loud and clear.”

“Thank you,” she hums. “Now, I wanted to give you a heads up that I’ve ordered a psych evaluation. It looks as though Jackson had recommended one, but there wasn’t much follow up. Given the events of this evening, I think it’s prudent.”

“I’m sorry,” he huffs out a laugh. “They were just being kids. And I seriously don’t think Billy took any drugs.”

“Not on purpose,” Palmer says flatly. “However, Steve informed me that one of the boys at the party intentionally slipped sleeping pills into his drink. Which, if I’m honest, is a new one for me. Normally, it’s disgusting men like that who drug unsuspecting girls. So, you might want to get a name and find out what this young man’s intentions were. Because if Billy had fallen asleep behind the wheel while driving, or had one of those seizures, he probably wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a breath.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely look into it, Doc—tor Palmer. But that doesn’t really explain why you feel Billy needs to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. He’s not reckless, and he wasn’t acting out. I mean, what you just said proves that.”

“No, you’re right,” she says, glancing towards Billy’s room. “I ordered the evaluation because of something Billy said while I was checking his vitals, after his stomach was pumped. I asked him about the cut on his cheek, and he said that his stepmom hit him. Backhanded him, actually, and she did so in front of his sister.”

“Yeah, Susan was in a bad way, and never should’ve been anywhere near him. But it won’t happen again. So, if that was it—”

“That wasn’t all,” she interrupts.

Hopper keeps his gaze on her name badge, worried that he might give away how nervous he is, if he meets her eye.

No, not just nervous—he’s scared.

“So, uh, what did he say, exactly?”

“I can’t quote him, exactly,” Palmer retorts dryly. “But he was understandably upset, and he made a few remarks about not being able to cope anymore. That I should tell you—Chief Hopper—that it’s okay with him if you need to let him go. That all he wants is for his sisters to be safe.”

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Hopper argues, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure he just meant our living arrangements.”

“And are they… Stressful for him?” she presses. “Or, perhaps, for his sisters?”

He chuckles, mildly confused.

“He only has one sister. Although, I guess, maybe it’s my daughter he’s referring to.”

It’s only as the words leave his mouth that Hopper realizes that Billy was definitely talking about both Max and El. Most likely afraid of what the Mindflayer could do to them. Especially if they didn’t know Billy wasn’t in control of his own body, and could hurt either of them; maybe even try to kill them.

“Look, he’s been through a lot tonight—clearly. Just… I’ll talk to him once he’s doing better, in the morning. Actually, I’ll get Joyce, his foster mom, to come and stay with him. She always manages to make him feel better.”

Palmer levels him with a look.

“I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously, Chief. I read through Billy’s medical history, and I know that he’s suffered from abuse his whole life. Not just physical trauma and neglect, but emotional as well. And I firmly believe your foster son requires some extensive therapy. It’s not a criticism, of course. But I strongly feel that without an outlet to express his thoughts and feelings in an unbiased environment, and to feel truly validated, he may continue to feel victimized and worthless. As a parent, I’d think you’d want to help him to grow and move beyond the limitations of his early childhood.”

Great, now she’s lecturing him; a complete stranger.

“We’d planned on setting something up for him, but I’ll admit that our custody dispute with Max’s mother has taken up most of our attention for the past few weeks. So, yeah. We’ll get him sorted.”

“Good, I’ll see if my in-house psychiatrist has any recommendations after they assess Billy tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, though he hates the idea of somebody who doesn’t know about their special, supernatural circumstances evaluating his possibly possessed kid.

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to check on. Please use the call button if you need anything.”

“Sure thing,” he says, plastering on an appeasing grin. As soon as she’s gone, though, he frowns.

The very idea that Billy could be thinking about giving up makes bile rise to the back of his throat.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” Hopper asks as he steps back into the room and pulls up a chair on Billy’s other side. “Any change?”

“I kind of thought he was waking up for a few seconds, but he was just mumbling in his sleep.”

“Oh, yeah? Anything you could make out?”

Steve gazes longingly at Billy’s face, his fingers tenderly brushing a curl out of his eyes.

“I dunno, maybe something about tides?” He grins lopsidedly. “Maybe he’s having a surfing dream.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hopper says, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Look, Steve—I don’t want to freak you out, but Dr. Palmer seems to be under the impression that Billy’s not coping well. Like, at all. She’s ordered a mental evaluation. Wants to be sure he’s not thinking of harming himself, or anybody else for that matter.”

“What—why?” Steve looks over at him, looking like somebody just kicked his puppy. “Billy’s been doing really well. It’s just this one, stupid night. And he fought, Hop. He fought really hard to regain control. And he was only checked out for, like, five or ten minutes. Hardly any time at all.”

“Yeah, okay. I hear ya, kid. And I feel the same way. I don’t think Billy’s the sort to roll over and give up. Not now. I only wanted to let you know what was up. But you and I both know he's a fighter.”

“But he’s also been fighting so hard for so long… And to have all that pulled out from under him by some evil entity living inside of him? God, that’s gotta be fucking devastating.”

“Nothing’s lost yet, Steve. We need to stay positive. Once we get him home, we’ll just do what we did for Will and get him free of that shadow. Okay?”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t have brought him here,” Steve mumbles, his head dropping. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. Billy was in a bad way and needed help. His body’s never been to the Upside Down, like Will’s has. He might not be able to tolerate as much of the physical alterations this possession seems to trigger.”

“At least he feels warm again,” Steve whispers. “And he isn’t shaking anymore.”

Hopper doesn’t know what to say when he notices that Steve’s the one trembling now.

“Why don’t you head home, come back in the morning? You should get some rest.”

“Can’t leave him, Hop,” Steve mumbles, his fingers grazing Billy’s forehead again. “This is the third time in less than two months that he’s been in the hospital, and the first time I’ve known it was entirely my fault.”

“But it’s not—”

“Yes, it is,” Steve mutters sharply. “I obviously pushed him too hard, and maybe made him move too fast in our relationship. Then I stupidly asked him to back up and pretend we weren’t what we are, which is crazy about each other. Or so I thought. Because he didn’t tell me about calling his ex, or Max asking about his mom, or how that really fucked him up. So… I dunno. I guess he doesn’t wanna open up to me anymore. Couldn’t tell me what was bothering him… ‘Cause…maybe I was bothering him, too.”

Hopper gets to his feet and moves around the end of the bed. He carefully approaches Steve, not wanting to startle him in his fragile state, then he gathers the poor guy up in his arms and holds him tight.

“It’s okay, kid. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Life is hard enough without all the extra crap Billy’s had thrown onto his plate. But you’re not a burden, or something he regrets, okay.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because, I’m the adult here, and I just know.”

Steve murmurs something incoherent into Hopper’s shoulder, or maybe it's just a drawn out whimper.

“Billy said something about your folks being gone over the holidays,” Hopper says quietly, patting his back. “You should come and stay with us. You shouldn’t be alone right now, and Billy’s gonna need some extra reassurance and maybe some help recovering after we, you know, exorcise that demon out of him. We’ve got a pullout couch in the basement, or we can find a way to squeeze you into Billy’s room. But—just. Don't be alone, okay, kid?”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve replies, voice tight, like he’s trying to keep it together. “If it’s not too much of a problem?”

Hopper grins, pulling away a fraction to cup Steve’s face, now red and blotchy under his five o’clock shadow.

“Wouldn’t have asked you if you weren’t welcome, Steve,” he says warmly.

“S’not his fault,” Billy croaks. “Dont hit ‘im.”

“Billy?” Steve lights up like a Christmas tree, pulling away to hold Billy’s hand. “Bee—Hop’s not hitting me,” he chuckles. “He was inviting me to come and stay with you guys.”

“Oh…”

Billy groans and squints up at Hopper, and the confusion in his hazy blue eyes makes Hop’s heart squeeze.

“Unless you don’t want him to, of course,” Hopper adds, offering him a gentle grin.

“No, s’good,” Billy mumbles, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Glad you’re here.”

“And I’m glad you’re here,” Steve remarks, beaming. “I mean, not that you’re in the hospital, but that you’re awake, and talking.”

“Mmph, yeah,” he sighs. “Me too.”

“Just rest, kid,” Hopper says softly. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

“M’kay. Thanks, Pop.”

Steve sits up a little straighter and looks up at Hopper, probably as anxious as Hopper at hearing Billy call him ‘Pop’ instead of Hop.

“What did you just say, Bee?”

“Hm?” Billy yawns, his lashes fluttering. “Oh, sorry, dunno. I’m me—promise. Not stuck in a fucking basement.”

“Whatever that means,” Hopper says, chuckling off a wave of anxiety. “I’m sure it was just an honest mistake. Although, I wouldn’t mind it if you called me that—Pop. I kinda like it.”

Billy grins tiredly, then his eyes fall shut and his breathing deepens.

“Why don’t you stretch out and try to sleep,” Hopper whispers, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll go and try calling Sam. I think, with the time difference, he should still be awake.”

“Okay, Hop,” Steve replies, shifting closer to Billy and laying his head on his bent arm. “We’ll be here.”

Hopper pauses by the doorway to check on them one more time before slipping out of the room. He’ll probably need to call home soon, so Joyce won’t worry. Except, of course, after he tells her about what’s going on, she’ll be all kinds of worried.

“Yeah, better call Sam first,” he mumbles to himself.

 

…

Chapter Text

Steve knocks on the red door and looks down at the steps he just walked up. He has many fond memories of sitting on those steps in the summer, chatting about who knows what and listening to the music filtering out through the Holloways’ kitchen window.

If they weren’t out front, they were out back in Heather’s clubhouse; playing house and taking turns being the dutiful husband going off to work while the other stayed home with their babydoll kids.

Yeah, those were the days.

Steve vaguely wonders if other boys ever volunteered to play the mom, and if they enjoyed it like he always did, or if maybe that was something only he did. Then he pictures a young Billy with his pretty blond curls wearing an apron and rocking a doll in his arms, and his heart flutters.

Heather opens the door, the sight of her tired face yanking him back to the present. Her eyes go wide for a fleeting second, then she opens the door wider and steps aside.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” she says, smiling weakly. “Why don’t you come in?”

“I just came to get my car,” he interrupts, glancing over his shoulder at the Beamer parked in the driveway, behind her little red Ford Capri she got for her sweet sixteen. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“It’s freezing outside,” Heather folds her arms around herself, shivering. “Just come inside while I get your keys, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, sighing.

She grins and waits for him to slip off his boots before leading him through to the living room. It looks exactly the same as when he was last there. Same drab, very seventies wallpaper, and furniture out of an antique shop, inherited from her grandparents.

“Sit for a minute,” Heather says, gesturing to the couch.

“I really don’t mind…” She gives him a firm, no nonsense look and Steve sits, obediently. “Um, yeah, sure.”

What surprises him more than her insistence is when Heather sits too, right beside him.

“I think we should talk,” she says quietly. “About last night.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah—how’s Robin doing? Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“She’s doing alright.” Heather grins slightly. “You know, other than the small freak out she had when she woke up in my bed this morning and didn’t know where she was. Or the teeny meltdown and minor shrieking, when I told her about Andy rubbing his junk all over her. But, yeah, other than wanting to burn her overalls, and murder Andy, she’s just peachy.”

Steve huffs out a sigh as he fidgets with his watch band.

“God, yeah. Did you tell her about how she puked all over him? That must’ve made her feel a little better?”

“It did,” she hums. “But then Chief Hopper came by and talked to her, which kind of upset her again. Once we got her calmed down, he took her home. That was, like, maybe about an hour ago? Luckily, Robin didn't have any crazy side effects, like Billy did. So don't worry about that. But I think Tommy might need a body bag after the chief gets done with him—Andy, too.”

“Those too deserve what’s coming to them,” Steve says, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “It was really hard telling him, but I knew I had to. Chief Hopper, I mean. About Tommy and Andy. I haven’t even told Billy about Buckley yet. I want him to be back on his feet first.”

“Good idea. I’m not even sure we’re going to have a basketball team after this.”

“Yeah, it sucks. But what they did is even worse. Thanks for bringing Robin here and watching out for her. I know that’s not exactly what you had in mind for last night. But, um… My keys?”

Heather glances at his hand as he holds it out, then she meets his eye. Steve doesn’t really know what to make of the look she’s giving him. Knowing Heather—or least from how he used to know her—he’d say she’s feeling a mixture of guilt and worry.

“Steve, we need to talk about Billy for a minute.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s—I took him to the hospital. Hop and I stayed with him all night, although, Hopper must’ve told you that when he was here. Joyce…Mrs. Byers. She went to see about bringing him home. But, yeah, he’s… Billy’s gonna be okay, too.”

She squints up at him as her hand closes around his own, and she gives it a squeeze.

“Steve… I’m glad you took Billy to the hospital, and I really hope he’s going to be okay. But how are you doing with everything? You kind of look like you didn’t sleep at all. I mean, can I get you anything? Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah, no. I got something in the hospital cafeteria before I took Billy’s car home. Then, um, Joyce dropped me here on her way out. But—” Steve snorts and waves her off. “Don’t worry about me, Heather. I know this is mostly my fault and I’m taking responsibility for it. I mean, if I hadn’t spent my night with some other guy’s girlfriend, and been paying attention to my actual friends, then maybe we wouldn’t all be in this mess.”

“Steve…”

Heather huffs out a sigh and gazes down at their hands, her thumb absently rubbing tiny circles into his palm. It’s somewhat comforting but also drags up memories of the past, and how she must’ve found him to be a shitty friend too, since they fell out after middle school.

“What, Heather?”

“I could be wrong but I think Chrissy actually appreciated you getting her away from her awful boyfriend for the night. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jason can be possessive and condescending sometimes. You know, treats her more like a trophy than a person? So, don’t feel bad about hanging out with her. And…”

She looks up, meeting his gaze, and bites her lip.

“I’m the one who feels bad. Because it seems I tried to steal somebody else’s boyfriend last night, not that I ever could’ve known. So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I kissed Billy.”

A funny feeling bubbles up in Steve’s chest, a mixture of hysteria and disbelief, and he barks out a laugh.

“What’re you talking about, Heather? Why’re you apologizing to me for kissing Hargrove? I mean—wait. You kissed him? Really?”

Damn, his voice just cracked, and it kind of feels like his heart might break open and leave him bleeding out, right there on her carpet.

“Look—it’s none of my business what the two of you did,” he adds, frowning. “Honestly.”

“Steve, stop,” she huffs, tugging on his hand. “I know, okay? I saw how you were with him, and Billy told me he was seeing somebody. Plus, I heard you call Billy baby. Munson did too; not that I think he’d ever tell anybody. And, don’t worry. I won’t either. I just—I feel like such a bitch, kissing him like I did. Even if I didn’t know; couldn’t know. Still doesn’t make it right.”

Totally taken aback, Steve suddenly can’t breathe.

“Steve—shit. I’m only telling you so you know that I know. Not to call you out, or shame you. God, what you must be feeling right now. What with the boy you care about being so sick and everything. You must be so upset.”

Then Heather reaches up to cup his cheek, and Steve crumbles into a sobbing mess. She tugs him into her arms and cradles his head to her shoulder, gently rocking him.

“Oh, Stevie,” she murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“How can it?” he sobs. “I almost lost him, just after I finally found him. And I know, it must look crazy. Me in a relationship with a guy. And, yeah. It’s not at all what I expected—Billy, either. I just… I don’t want to fuck things up. But it feels like, no matter how hard I try, I still make a mess of things.”

“What happened last night, it wasn’t your fault, Stevie. Not really,” she murmurs. “And I don’t know how, but it’s gonna work out for the better. Somehow, you and Billy—you’re gonna be okay.”

Steve holds onto her tighter, wishing he was holding Billy, and praying she’s right. That somehow they can beat this, and come out stronger than before.

{~~~~~}

Robin Buckley’s chilling words still echo in his mind as Hopper sips his bitter hospital coffee and walks up the steps of the Hagan family home.

The girl couldn’t remember much, just how she helped herself to Billy’s bottle of beer and ended up sick as a dog. Only to be told this morning about being taken, half unconscious, to the backseat of Andy Walsh’s car. Sure, she puked all over him, but Hopper had to leave his gun locked safely in his cruiser when he went to pick the kid up.

Andy scowls quietly at him from the backseat. His hungover rants about his rights and how he’s a minor, long fallen on deaf ears. Hopper might not be able to lock the little shit up for good, given the circumstances, but he sure as hell plans on scaring him a whole lot.

A muddy pair of brown, bloodshot eyes peeks through the curtain beside the door before disappearing.

Andy comes from a household full of degenerates. The oldest of four, or maybe five kids, his younger brother, Troy, has already proven himself to be a real gem. As far as Hopper knows Tommy Hagan is an only child; and he thanks God for that small mercy.

“Come on, Hagan. I saw you, already.” Hopper leans on the doorbell. “Open up!”

Tommy cracks the front door open, his freckled face looking a touch green in the morning sun.

“Since when’s it a crime to call in sick from school, Chief?” he mutters, snorting. “Surely there’s some old lady’s cat stuck up a tree somewhere.”

Tommy tries to shut the door, but Hopper juts out his boot, wedging it open.

“You tried to drug my kid last night.”

“Uh, I don’t know who told you that, but they’re dead wrong.”

“Wasn’t a question,” Hop says gruffly. “I know you did. And, when your skeezy little plan failed, you let your equally despicable little pal, Andy, know that the girl from the band took Billy’s beer.”

Tommy flinches, it’s nearly unnoticeable, but then he swallows—hard.

“That’s ridiculous hearsay, Chief. What my dumb friends do is none of my concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I already feel like shit and I’d like to avoid catching pneumonia.”

“Then you can put on a coat and come with me,” Hopper says smoothly. “No sense in making your heating bills climb. We can finish our little chat down at the station. Make it all official and such.”

“You’ve gotta be joking!” Tommy squeezes out a pitchy laugh. “Was this Harrington? God, he’s such a pussy. The way he falls all over Hargrove; it’s embarrassing.”

“I don’t have time for your nonsense, Hagan. Coat. Boots. Cruiser. Now.”

When Tommy still doesn’t budge, he adds, “Or I can have a word with your parents. They’re home, aren’t they? Oh, right. Your old man must be at work by now. Well, I can just go and interrupt his day…”

“What—no!” Tommy squawks. “Jesus, okay! I’m coming. But it’s all some crazy misunderstanding. I mean, if Hargrove’s on some new meds, maybe he shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Hurry up,” Hopper huffs, glancing towards Andy, making sure he’s staying put. “I’ve been up most of the night and I’m running out of patience fast.”

Tommy throws him an incredulous look.

“Aw, did his highness spend the night with his head in the toilet?”

“Nah, got his stomach pumped at Hawkins’ Memorial,” he mutters, grabbing Tommy by the arm and hauling him down his front steps, enjoying the look of horror on his stupid freckled face. “Seems whatever you dosed his drink with, it caused a real bad reaction.”

Of course Hopper knows Billy’s real battle was fighting off an interdimensional entity, but the fact remains that Tommy needs to be put in his place.

“What—why? He passed his spiked bottle to Buckley. He barely drank any of it!”

“So, you admit you attempted to drug him. Thanks, kid. Makes my job that much easier.” Hopper pauses, unlocking the back of his cruiser to toss Tommy in, alongside Andy. “Play nice, boys. It’s a pretty short ride.”

“What the fuck, Walsh!” Tommy thunders, punching Andy in the shoulder. “What did you tell him? And what is that fucking smell?”

“That bitch, Buckley, puked all over me last night. Thought I dreamed it, but I guess not. Passed out the second I got home last night so…” Andy gestures to his jacket. “Yeah, I’m still kind of living in it.”

Tommy punches his arm again and holds his other hand over his nose and mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Wear another coat, dipshit!”

“Hey, what did I just tell you?” Hop barks, slamming the driver’s side door as he slides in. “Behave!”

“Why did you even give a shit about that band geek anyway? Wasn’t Tammy all over you?”

“I guess she didn’t find me very… I don’t know! The bitch stormed off after five minutes and left me hard up. So, yeah. When you told me about your dumb idea, I took her off of Brandon’s hands.”

“Brandon?” Tommy cackles. “God, that guy doesn’t know his dick from his asshole.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hopper interrupts. “But, hey. Since you’re feeling chatty, whatever happened to that hypothetical second beer? You know, the one meant for Harrington?”

Tommy glances at the back of Hopper’s head, looking rather nervous.

“Nothing. I, uh, dumped it. Steve said he was going sober or some shit—so I got rid of it.”

“Do I have to send an officer to Sattler’s to find some frozen kid you accidentally murdered? ‘Cause if I do, I just might take the long way to the station. Maybe stop at the shooting range, if you catch my drift.”

“You can’t say crazy shit like that!” Tommy cries, crossing his arms in a huff. “I wanna call a lawyer the second we get there. You’re nuts!”

“There wasn’t a second bottle,” Andy volunteers, looking spooked. “Carol said Tommy double dosed the one he gave to Billy, instead. Okay? There’s no dead kid. At least, if there is, it wasn’t us.”

Hopper can feel his shoulders tense and he grips the wheel.

“Where’d you get the sleeping pills, boys?”

Andy gives Tommy a look, like he might cave.

“God, do people know that you keep doing this, Police Chief?” Tommy scoffs. “That you keep arresting anybody who even dares to look a bit crookedly at your precious baby boy? I mean, maybe you’re the one who needs interrogating. First it was Billy’s old man, then his crazy step-mom, and now us—his friends. Jesus—next you’ll be hauling Harrington away for spending too much time with your golden boy. It’s sick.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one who’s so obsessed with the guy that I wanted to drug him and take messed up photos for God knows what reasons,” Hopper rants, disgusted. “So, I’ll ask one more time: where did you get the pills?”

“This is so dumb,” Andy mumbles, squirming in his seat. “They were Tommy’s mom’s. A lot of people take them. Harrington’s mom is on the same ones. Geez.”

“Grow a fucking spine, Walsh!” Tommy growls, glaring daggers.

“He was gonna find out anyway,” he whines. “And I wanna get home before anybody notices I’m gone.”

“Not sure that’s gonna happen, but thanks for telling me the truth. Because Billy could’ve fallen asleep behind the wheel, or worse, drank the whole bottle and died from other complications. So, thanks, kid. I guess you might be spending the holidays in lock up after all.”

“Lawyer.”

“Yeah, me too,” Andy mutters, groaning.

“Sure thing. I’m sure a public defender can make it down to Hawkins by the New Year, no problem.”

“Fuck that,” Tommy hisses. “You haven’t even actually arrested either of us. And if you had anything besides what we may or may not have said in the back of this car, then you’ve got nothing.”

“Then you asked for a lawyer…for nothing?” Hopper asks, snorting. “Okay, kid. Whatever you gotta tell yourself to feel better.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Hm, I bet nobody’s even at the shooting range today. Last weekend of holiday shopping, ya know.”

“Maybe we should just stop talking,” Andy mutters, glaring at Tommy.

“Ya think?” Tommy says snidely.

Hopper chuckles as they pull into the police station parking lot.

“Now that’s the smartest thing either of you has said all morning.”

{~~~~~}

The scent of fire smoke fills Billy’s lungs as he slips on his flannel shirt from last night. Most of what happened is hazy now, like a bad dream he can almost remember, though he isn’t so sure he wants to. His muscles ache and groan with every movement, no matter how small. Even buttoning his shirt proves a challenge, his fingers faltering once or twice and miss the button holes.

“Hi, there—hello?”

Billy startles and turns his head to find a young woman with large, dark eyes framed by oversized glasses. Her feminine curves seem lost under a loose mustard-colored cardigan, and her hair falls messily around her shoulders in long waves, needing a brush almost as much as his own hair.

“Billy…?” she asks, sounding unsure as she glances down at the folder in her hand. “Are you Billy Hargrove?”

“Um, yeah, s’me,” he croaks, his throat still sore from last night. “But, guess I could say you just missed him, and probably get away with it.”

The woman stares at him for a beat, then laughs.

“Oh, right. Funny—you’re funny.”

Billy squints at her, taking a step back as she moves closer, his pulse suddenly pounding.

“Can I…help you?”

“Hm?” She makes a stilted, self-deprecating sound and extends her hand. “Sorry—hi. I’m Dr. Cassandra Lyre. That’s lyre like the musical instrument, not a person who perpetrates falsehoods.”

“Uh, okay…?”

“You look like you’re ready to leave,” Cassandra says, glancing behind her. “I thought you wouldn’t be discharged until after my assessment?”

“I just wanna be ready to go,” he says, landing in a seat to lace up his boots, just in case he gets dizzy. “You know, when my fosters come for me.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” she says, shrugging and helping herself to the other chair by the window. “How about we chat until Chief Hopper gets here. Unless you prefer to speak to me with him present? You’re still under eighteen, so it’s perfectly fine to want a parent or guardian present.”

“You’re the psychiatrist,” Billy says, eyeing her as he sits upright. “Dr. Lyre?”

“You can call me Cassie, if it’s easier,” she says, offering him a kind smile. “But, yes. I’m one of the resident psychiatrists.”

“Okay, it’s just—you look only a few years older than me. You sure you’re old enough, or whatever?”

“I am, trust me. But I get that a lot, due to my appearance,” Cassandra says, brushing her long hair over one shoulder. “If you’d prefer for one of my older colleagues to do your assessment, you can wait until one of them is available—”

“—No,” Billy interrupts. “Ah, no, thank you. But I’m doing much better, and I’d hate to waste your time.”

“Hey, this is my job,” she retorts, shrugging. “Talking to you isn’t a time-waster for me.”

“Okay, well… Can we get started, then? I mean, I don’t need Hop or Joyce here, or anything. So, just go ahead and ask your questions.”

“Down to business,” she says, nodding and flipping to a blank page. “Sure thing.”

Then Cassandra reaches for the breast pocket on her cardigan, and gets annoyed when she finds it empty. She pats her chest and hips, searching, then snorts loudly, making Billy jump, when she tugs a pen out from behind her ear.

This woman is either completely under qualified, or a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Frankly, neither is ideal.

“Okay, ready?” she prompts, clicking her pen.

“Uh, sure,” he mumbles, swallowing around the lump forming in his throat.

“We’ll start super easy,” Casandra says, meeting his gaze. “When did you move to Hawkins?”

Billy swallows again.

“Second to last week of October—this year.”

“Okay…” She jots that down on the page. “And what were the circumstances which led to your family’s relocation?”

Huffing out a sigh, Billy leans back in his chair, his fingers digging into the fabric as his grip tightens on the arms. Then he thinks he hears someone laughing—Max laughing.

“I dunno,” he says, squinting as he tries to stay focused. “My dad got a job here, working security at the packing plant. My step-mom found employment at the bank on Main Street. So, we moved from just outside of San Diego to here. It’s not like we had a choice.”

“Uh-huh…” Cassandra makes another note before tapping the end of her pen on her chin. “And who is we?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

Yeah, that’s definitely Max he’s hearing, but it’s like an echo, or a memory of her laugh.

“Like, any siblings? Grandparents, a family dog?”

“Just me, the folks, and Max—my sister. Well, my step-sister, really.”

Cassandra holds his gaze, making him uncomfortable. Thankfully, the weird echo fades away, but he still doesn’t like the way he’s being stared at.

“And how old is Max, your step-sister?”

“She’s thirteen,” he says, nervously looking out the window.

“Hm, so that must’ve been hard on you; both of you. Leaving your home and all your friends like that. Tell me, how did that make you feel, Billy?”

“I dunno. Normal amounts of annoyed and angry, I guess.”

“And… You and Max, you left your new house in Hawkins after about… What? A week? Ten days?”

“Does it matter?” he grumbles.

“Can you tell me a little about that?”

Billy chances a glimpse of Dr. Lyre, and finds her staring intently at him.

“Neil, my old man; he’s always been very strict with me. And…” He shifts in his seat, wishing he hadn’t done up all of his shirt buttons. “See, Max? She took off with her friends when I was meant to be watching her. She used to do that—sneak away without telling anybody. And, of course, Neil blamed me. But I found her, so it wasn’t that bad.”

“What wasn’t that bad?” she presses, pursing her lips and leaning closer.

“He just… It wasn’t anything Neil hadn’t done before. He sent me to my room without dinner. That’s all.”

“Okay,” she says evenly. “But what about what actually caused you and Max to be removed from his care?”

“Isn’t all of that in my file?” he mumbles.

“It is, but I thought it might be best if I hear your own account of events.”

Billy can feel his chest tighten and his fingernails cut into the worn fabric of the armchair, and the ghostly sensation of hot leather cuts into the plains of his back.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he says, teeth gritted.

“What about friends?” Casandra redirects, sounding almost chipper. “Have you made some friends at school, or maybe you can tell me a little bit about your new living arrangements.”

“I have some friends,” he mumbles, shrugging. “Maybe fewer after last night. But Steve’s okay. And my fosters are great. I mean, they moved into a bigger house just so they could take in me and Max.”

“And did you know these people already?”

“Honestly? Not really. But now it kinda feels like we’ve never not known them. Plus, now we’re never alone. Always somebody around. And I know the other kids like it, too.”

“How many are you?” she asks, scribbling with her pen. “Altogether.”

Billy actually has to do a quick tally in his head, which makes it ache a little.

“Seven,” he says, sighing. Three younger kids and two older, plus Hop and Joyce. And there’s always people coming and going—friends, I mean.”

“That sounds very crowded…”

“Yeah, but, like I said—” Billy’s vision blurs and he presses his finger and thumb into his eyes.

“Billy? Are you okay, Billy?”

“Uh, I think so?”

But as he moves his hand away, it’s like he has two fields of vision. Cassandra is on his right and Max sits to his left. His sister is closer, and he can’t hear what she’s saying, though her lips are definitely moving.

Max laughs, and Cassandra knits her brows together.

“Well, are they?”

“Sorry—what was that?”

“I was asking if everyone still seems as though they’re being heard and getting the attention they deserve.”

“Oh…”

Okay, maybe he can’t quite hear the doctor either. And when the world suddenly shifts on his left and Mike replaces Max, smiling like a goofball at him, Billy feels something wet drip onto his lip and chin.

“Goodness, your nose is bleeding.”

Cassandra lurches forward, snatching a tissue from the box on the little table between them, and presses it under his nose.

“Here, tilt your head back for me,” she says softly.

Billy only catches a word here and there, and as he closes his eyes, he can still clearly see Mike Wheeler and some of Max’s arm. She’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt she must’ve taken from his room—because it actually belongs to Steve.

It’s the trippiest thing he’s ever experienced, and now Mike is furrowing his brow and leaning in, looking worried. Then, suddenly, the images are gone, and there’s nothing to see but the backs of his own eyelids.

“What’s going on?”

Joyce’s worried voice just might be the best thing Billy’s ever heard.

“Who are you?” Cassandra asks, sounding so much farther away than right across from him.

Billy’s lashes flutter open and Joyce comes into focus; just Joyce and nobody else.

“Oh, I’m Billy’s foster mom; Joyce Byers,” she says, smiling weakly. “Is his nose bleeding?”

“It’s fine, Joyce,” Billy mumbles from under the tissue. “Honest.”

“Does he get a lot of nosebleeds?”

“Oh, um, not that I know of, but Billy’s only lived with us for, ah, less than two months. Billy, sweetie, do you?”

They share a silent, knowing exchange, both just as eager to spring him from the hospital as soon as possible.

“Not usually,” he admits, taking over from Cassandra and holding the tissue for himself. “But the air here is so dry.”

“Right—and he was very cold last night,” Joyce offers, handing him a fresh tissue. “So it’s probably just a normal thing.”

“Right,” Billy agrees, shrugging. “I feel fine.”

“Are you sure?” Cassandra needles. “Because it seemed like you didn’t hear half of what I said right before your nose started to bleed.”

“I might’ve had a tiny dizzy spell…”

The doctor stands and steps around Joyce.

“I’m going to get Palmer,” she says. “She should check you out, especially if your foster parents insist on taking you home soon.”

Joyce drags the empty chair over and sits beside him, her face etched with concern.

“How are you doing, really?” she asks, cupping his chin and checking his nose. “Do you think you can manage coming home?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, blinking back tears. “Wanna get home. Max must be so mad at me.”

“Max is okay. But Will… He’s pretty upset about you going to the quarry,“ she whispers. “And about finding out you may have been fully possessed for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. I was pretty upset about it, too,” he says, huffing out a sigh. “But I don’t feel like I’m in danger now. Not too hot or like I wanna claw my own skin off.”

Joyce frowns and presses her palm to his cheek and forehead.

“You feel like a good temperature. But, maybe you can tell me what really happened just now. When I walked in and your nose was dripping blood.”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Billy admits shakily. “It was like I had double vision, only instead of seeing that doctor twice over, I could see Max. Like she was right here, or I was somewhere else, sitting across from her—across from Max. Like I was in two places, simultaneously. But, then, it was as if I turned my head, because Mike was right there, beside Max. God, it was so disorienting. Made it super hard to follow what Dr. Lyre was saying.”

“I’m not sure I’d call her a liar, Billy,” Joyce retorts, snorting. “I think she’s genuinely concerned.”

“No, that’s her name. L-Y-R-E.”

“Oh…” Joyce squints at him. “Wait, you said Mike was there?”

“Yeah, why?”

Joyce gets one of her looks and stands. She moves to the phone by the bed and pauses as she lifts the receiver.

“Mike came over with Nancy after school. It was a half day for both of them.”

“You don’t seriously think I saw them, like, in real time, do you?”

“Only one way to find out,” she says, dialling. “Hi—Jonathan? Yeah, it’s Mom. Wait—Will what?”

Billy’s stomach ties up in knots, worried about what Jonathan might be saying.

“But he’s okay now?” Joyce offers Billy a soft smile. “Oh, good.” She covers the receiver with her hand. “Will had a dizzy spell too, but he’s okay.”

“Ask Jonny if Max is wearing a navy long-sleeved tee with red arms; and Mike has some ugly gray and blue sweater on.”

Joyce relays this to Jonathan, and then flashes him a thumbs up, then another.

“No, we’ll be home soon. Yes, if you could get food started,that would be amazing. Thanks, honey. Okay, see you in a little bit.”

Joyce bites back a grin as she comes back to him.

“You were right,” she says hurriedly, glancing at the doorway. “You could see what Will was seeing, I think. Which…is new, right?”

“Totally fucking new,” he scoffs. “Sorry—”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, giving his hand a squeeze. “I can’t even imagine how overwhelming this must feel. But all the more reason to get you home, and have Sam Owens take a look at you; both of you. How’s your nose?”

Billy sits, trying not to squirm, as she inspects his nostrils and gently dabs away any remaining smudges of blood.

“I think you’re okay,” she hums. “It’s just a good thing doctors take their sweet time in this hospital.”

“But—hang on,” Billy says, his heart pounding so badly that he’s worried his nose will start to gush like a fountain again. “Is it safe for me to be around Will? I mean, what if that thing is using me to spy on your kids?”

“I’m not sure it is. It sounds like you two were only spying on each other; accidentally, of course. See, it’s like a hivemind. I mean, the thing we call the Mindflayer, it controls all the monsters through some kind of telepathic ability. So, maybe you two just linked up, telepathically, for some reason. Maybe because of whatever happened to you last night.”

“Oh, great,” Billy mutters, finally undoing the buttons on his collar that have been choking him. “So, now we might unintentionally eavesdrop on something personal that we really, absolutely, shouldn’t know about.”

“Oh, yeah…” Joyce frowns. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But maybe this was just a fluke?”

Billy knits his brows together and gives her a dubious look.

“You’re being awfully calm about all of this.”

“I know—sorry,” she sighs. “I try not to think about things too deeply or I might go crazy. So, let’s get a copy of your medical records and go home. Hopefully, Sam will get here by tonight and we can all rest easier.”

It’s starting to feel like his first real Christmas in years is about to be ruined, and he was really looking forward to actually celebrating for once.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Billy mutters.

 

…

Chapter Text

All Billy wants to do when he drags his ass through the door is sleep for a year. Head down, he walks into something solid. No, someone, and they smell like musky aftershave and flowery hairspray, and he almost feels alive again.

Steve folds around him, tucking his face into the crook of Billy’s neck, and he takes a few slow breaths.

“Heya, Bambi,” he murmurs, giving him a gentle squeeze. “You doing okay?”

Billy can feel him move his head and it’s definitely not in a nodding motion.

“You know I'm not mad at you, right? And I’m still here, so you don’t need to be upset anymore.”

Steve simply clings to him tighter.

Feet stomp into the front hall and Billy lifts his head, surprised to find Will glaring at him, and not Max.

“You lied to me!”

Billy blinks and Steve raises his head as they shift apart.

“I know I said I wouldn’t go to the quarry,” Billy begins. “But can we talk—”

“No!” Will spits, his face going red as he gives Billy’s shoulder a hard shove. “You said you’d tell me if you saw him again. If you saw him for real. And you saw him, but you didn’t tell me! How many times, Billy? How many? God, you never tell me anything, do you? And then you lied about going to the quarry. To my face! Why do you hate me so much? I’ve been nothing but honest and kind to you! So—WHY?”

The kid doesn’t wait for any answer or explanation. Will runs upstairs, with thunderous footfalls, and slams his bedroom door.

“He, uh, heard about what happened,” Mike says sheepishly, hanging off the banister at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll, um, go and check on him. But… He’s not wrong, Hargrove. I mean, we’re all glad you’re doing better, but…Will. He looks up to you, and you kind of fucked up. Royally.”

Billy stares at the back of Mike’s head as he heads up the staircase and disappears from view.

“Shit, you okay?” Steve asks softly, patting his back.

Billy nods, though he feels numb.

“Maybe you should give Will a few minutes,” Max says, drawing his attention. “Let Mike work on him first. You know, calm him down and comfort him?”

Sighing, Billy nods again, his heart swelling at seeing his sister framed by the Christmas lights blinking on the tree behind her, giving her red hair a glow, like a halo. They’d set up the large pine a couple of weekends ago, but it looks like the kids finally finished decorating it while he was out last night.

Great, another reason to feel guilty.

“Why don’t we go up to your room and relax for a bit?” Steve asks, offering Max a smile. “Unless you need a visit with your big brother first?”

“Nah, I can wait,” she says easily, shrugging. “Besides, you seem to be keeping Billy grounded, or whatever. I might say or do something to annoy him, and then we’ll be dealing with the puppet master, and I really rather not see him like that. Not if I can help it.”

“Yeah, it was super eerie,” Steve winces. “Like somebody else was wearing his face, like a mask.”

“You guys know I can hear you, right?” Billy remarks, glancing between them.

“Good,” Max says, smirking. “Means you’re still you.”

He throws her a sarcastic smile and flashes his middle finger at her. She rolls her eyes, though she’s laughing.

“I told you that I knew you were still you already, jerkface. No need to lay it on so thick.”

“We still on for last minute gift shopping tomorrow?” Billy asks, giving her a tighter than necessary hug, making her wince.

“Yes, but only if you don’t crush me to death first,” she whines as he lets her go. “And only if that Owens guy doesn’t make us do some crazy exorcist shit to you that’s gonna knock you out until Christmas.”

“Oh, damn,” Steve mumbles. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“It’s fine,” Billy says, shrugging off their concern despite the anxiety climbing his throat, threatening to choke him. “Steve can take you, if I can’t. Right, Bambi?”

“Oh, yeah, sure…”

Steve clears his throat and glances at Max before his gaze fixes on Billy.

“Great! Thanks, Steve,” Max says, a little too cheerfully for either of their taste.

“I really thought she’d be more of a mess than she is,” Billy mumbles after Max disappears back into the living room.

“Yeah, you and me, both,” Steve agrees, snorting. “But maybe you’re over the worst of it,” he adds, snaking an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “So maybe we shouldn’t be too worried either.”

“I love your unfaltering optimism,” he says dryly. “Wish I had the energy to be so positive.”

“Aw, my poor baby.”

Steve presses a kiss to his cheek, and Billy finds himself grinning at his boyfriend. Then Merry rushes past their feet and lets out a nasty yowl. As Billy looks down to see what’s wrong, the kitten arches her back and puffs out her tail, spitting and hissing at him—just like she did the day Billy found her in the shed. Like he’s a complete stranger, and doesn’t smell or look right to her. Like he’s all wrong.

And something inside of him breaks.

Billy slinks away from Steve and Merry, who’s still growling, without a word. Drained and listless, he starts to climb the stairs, his movements slow and heavy.

“Geez, what’s your deal?” Steve grumbles, gently shooing the cat away with his foot. “Be nice to your big brother. Can’t you see he’s upset?”

Billy only vaguely hears Steve berate the kitten, while his feet keep moving towards his bedroom. His hand plants itself on the edge of the door, ready to slam it shut. But a flash of being trapped in the basement pops into his head, without light or anybody coming to save him, and he stills his hand.

Then he remembers how he heard Steve’s voice; that Steve came for him, and he turns just as his boyfriend catches up.

Billy crashes into Steve’s chest, and he buries his face in the other’s neck. Clinging to him now, Billy can feel strong arms wrap around him and hold him steady.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re home and safe—and I’m here. Never gonna leave you like that again. Okay? And Merry probably thinks you stink of fire smoke and gross hospital smells.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Billy manages, sniffling. “Just want this nightmare to be over.”

“I know, Bee,” Steve hums. “Me too.”

“Maybe you should’ve stayed and talked to that doctor after all,” Joyce says, somewhere behind Steve’s solid form. “I’m sorry, Billy. But you know Will doesn’t hate you, don’t you? He’s just upset, and has every right to be. But he doesn’t actually hate you.”

“Doctor?” Steve asks, knitting his brows together. “Which doctor?”

“The psychiatrist, Dr. Lyre,” Joyce clarifies. “We made a recurring appointment for Billy on Tuesdays at 5pm, which hopefully won’t interfere with practices or games. But that won’t start until January, after the holidays. She gave me her number, just in case we needed to call her…”

“I think it’s mostly exhaustion, Joyce,” Steve says slowly, rubbing soothing circles into Billy’s back. “Well, and emotional bruising. Plus, maybe he should eat something more substantial than hospital jell-o and dry toast.”

Joyce stares at him for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry—did you just say emotional bruising?” she repeats, squinting. “Sorry, I just… Sometimes you say things that I never expected to hear you say. No offence.”

“Uh, none taken. I think,” Steve retorts, snorting. “I guess I’ve been picking stuff up from Billy; and Nancy; and Dustin… I’m just a big sponge.”

“Yeah, a wet sponge,” Mike scoffs, leaning in Will’s doorway. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself—it was such low hanging fruit. But, ah, I actually didn’t mean it, Steve.”

“Sure, kid. Whatever you say,” he says dryly.

Billy lifts his head and gives Mike a hopeful look.

“Will really wants to see you,” Mike says quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “But he feels bad for shouting at you like he did. I told him you’d wanna see him, too, but he’s too upset to leave his room.”

“Go on,” Steve murmurs, using his thumb to wipe a stray tear from Billy’s cheek. “Go make up with your brother.”

A smile tries to tug at one corner of his mouth, and Billy slinks off to Will’s room. Head hung low and shoulders slumped, he steps inside.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, his heart aching with each word. “I should have; and I’m sorry. But… Maybe a part of me didn’t want to believe it was true. That maybe the things I was seeing and experiencing were only because of my messed up life, not due to some kind of evil influence. Well, other than Neil.”

“Yeah, he seems pretty evil,” Will says, snorting. “But you get that in trying to protect me, you actually put yourself in more danger. You get that, right?”

“Now I do, yeah,” he admits, heaving a sigh as he sits on the edge of Will’s bed.

“Good,” Will hums, inching closer. “Because we can only defeat this thing if we all stick together.”

Billy stares at the pattern on Will’s bedspread for a few seconds, tracing a spaceship with his finger.

“Yeah, I know. I mean, I understand that now. I guess as much as I’m getting used to the idea of being part of a real family, I also struggle with being more open about my shit.”

“Billy…?”

He feels a comforting warmth on his hand as Will places his hand over his own.

“Yeah?” Billy has to choke out the word.

“I don’t really hate you,” he says quietly, giving Billy’s hand a squeeze. “I just hate that this thing is hurting you. It’s not fair; we already beat it. We won—but now it’s still trying to fight back. To take you. And the worst part is… You’re letting it.”

Billy tugs the younger boy into his chest. Will sobs into his shoulder, shaking and helpless.

“Hey, I wasn’t gonna let that evil asshole do anything to me. I just didn’t know it was real. Now, I know. But I won’t let it get that far again—I promise.”

“Okay,” Will mumbles, giving him another tight hug.

{~~~~~}

Steve struggles to keep his hands to himself, and settles on resting an arm behind Billy’s back.

Sam arrived in Hawkins around dinner time. Although he’d heard a lot about the neurobiologist, Steve had never met him until now.

This scientist guy looks like a middle school math teacher or a kids’ dentist. Mostly harmless and always full of smiles; ready to hand out gold stars and lollipops for correct answers, or a checkup with no cavities. A real Mr. Rogers type.

Yeah, Steve really needs an early night tonight. He can already hear Dustin in his head, mocking him for mixing his metaphors.

“I’m sorry, I know you told me all of what went down with Will that night Eleven closed the rift, back when I gave you her adoption certificate, but could you maybe go over it again?” Sam rambles, settling into a seat on the couch. “Joyce, Jonathan and Michael—”

“—And Nancy,” Jonathan cuts in. “She was there, too.”

“Yeah, she pressed a red hot fire-poker into Will’s ribs,” Mike mutters. “Was insane.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Jonathan mumbles, glancing away. “All those alien particles came rushing up Will’s throat and flew out the window.”

“We assumed the particles were being called back to the mother gate,” Joyce says, shrugging. “It made sense, at the time. Will was all worked up—possessed Will—and he was fighting really, really hard to get free. It was awful.”

“Yeah, he was thrashing around and screaming at us,” Mike supplies. “And these crazy black, vine-line tendrils were crawling up his neck and down his arms. It was so creepy.”

“And that’s when your sister… Hit him with the poker?” Sam asks slowly, his brows knitting together.

“I think she stabbed him a little, too,” Mike admits, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “He’s got a scar now.”

Will keeps his head low, his gaze on his lap, and nods almost imperceptibly.

“But then he was back to himself,” Joyce says, reaching to squeeze one of Will’s hands. “Weak and drenched in sweat—and we took him straight to the emergency room.”

“Uh huh…”

Sam looks from Joyce to Hopper, who gestures uselessly.

“And that’s what happened,” Hopper says, chuckling tightly.

Billy lets out a long breath and presses his sweaty palms into his thighs. He knew Will had gone through some kind of exorcism, but he didn’t know the details. Even now, it feels like this is the highly abridged version of events.

“And what happened the other night, with Billy?” Sam hedges, turning to Billy, then Steve. “Anybody wanna fill me in?”

“We, ah, went to this outdoor gathering,” Steve says, fidgeting with his hands. “A bonfire at the old quarry. And, um, nothing really happened until Billy moved away from the fire pit. Then he got all dizzy and felt sick. Right, Bee?”

“Yeah, but we found out later that some asshole drugged my drink,” Billy mutters, his own hands curling into fists. “So, it’s hard to say how much of how I was feeling was the sleeping pills and how much was an inter-dimensional consciousness tryin’ to take over.”

“But it did,” Sam says, meeting his gaze. “It took over. And how did that feel? Will said it was like the feeling of not being quite fully awake. Hazy and overall too warm.”

“Definitely felt too hot,” Billy tells him. “And maybe I felt a little hazy. But mostly, when I thought I was awake I was actually shoved into the back of my mind—in a nightmare.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Steve murmurs, tilting his head towards him. “What kind of nightmare?”

“Didn’t I?” Steve shakes his head. “Oh, well, basically I was a kid again. Neil, my dad, had locked me in our old basement. Was yelling at me like my mom had just run out on us.” He suddenly shuts his eyes against the memory. “Anyway—eventually I could hear Heather and Eddie talking. Then I heard my own voice, but it wasn’t me talking.”

“Yeah, possessed you was super creepy,” Steve mumbles. “And super straight, for some reason.”

Mike barks out a laugh, earning a withering look from Will.

“Sorry, but that was funny,” Mike squeaks.

“Anyway,” Billy continues, sighing. “Then I heard Steve, and he finally figured out that wasn’t me talking. And his words… It’s like they gave me the strength to fight back.”

“It was the same with Will,” Joyce says, offering both boys a soft smile. “We all took turns telling him personal stories, and sharing our favorite memories with him.”

“Yeah, but Will was possessed for days,” Steve says, knitting his brows together. “Billy was possessed for only a few minutes.”

“And you didn’t get the particles out of him,” Hopper says astutely. “So the chance of Billy going under again is still pretty high.”

“We should’ve just treated Billy when he first told us about seeing the shadow figure,” Will mumbles.

“We didn’t know for sure if what he saw was real or just something brought on by his trauma,” Joyce says gently, giving her son’s hand another squeeze. “But we do now.”

“And we’re doing something about it—now,” Hop adds, wrapping an arm around Will’s back.

“I want to help,” El says, standing. “I was not here to help Will, but I am here to help Billy.”

“Okay, and we might need your help, Jane,” Sam says, offering her an appreciative grin. “But we need to collect a bit more information first. Okay?”

El slowly sits down again.

“Okay…”

“Wait, hang on,” Billy huffs, frowning. “What can Ellie do?”

“I can look into your head and see if the monster is there,” she says, her gaze serious.

“Oh… Okay…” he mumbles, noncommittally. But, yeah. That’s really not something he wants to happen, like, ever.

“So, getting back to the other night,” Steve says, glancing at El. “Billy didn’t bring up any spooky particles, but he puked—like, a lot.”

“And they pumped his stomach at the emergency room,” Joyce says, wincing.

“Okay, but that doesn’t really equate to the same thing as expelling sentient particles. I mean, I had a look at Billy’s test results,” Sam says, tapping the folder on his lap with a finger. “And the same markers are present in his bloodwork from when he first arrived at the hospital and just before they discharged him. So maybe we can try a little experiment of our own.”

“I’ll do it with you, Billy,” Will says, standing and stepping closer. “We can do it together.”

Billy stares at Will’s outstretched hand for a moment, his stomach twisting, before finally taking it.

“Yeah, okay, Will,” he says quietly. “But you don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But if El can help, so can I.”

“Okay,” he says again, sighing. “Let’s do whatever Sam says and get this over with.”

“Good choice,” Sam chuckles.

As everyone clears the living room, Sam takes an extra moment to get to his feet. He groans with the effort and Billy hands him his cane.

“Leg still bothering you?”

“One of those things tried to take a chunk out of me,” Sam retorts, sighing. “But, yeah. I was one of the lucky ones. I’ve still got my leg, and my life.”

“Hm, sounds to me like your guardian angel was working overtime,” Billy remarks. “But, uh, did Joyce tell you about Will and I seeing the same thing at the same time?”

“Yeah, your hivemind moment,” he says, nodding. “Yes, she told me. It certainly wasn’t something I ever expected.”

“Right—exactly.” Billy moves to get in Sam’s way, not that it’s difficult. “But if Will had this crap forced out of him already, why would that happen?”

“Well, there could be a couple of reasons. The first is that these spore-like particles affect the human body like a virus. Slowly working their way into the patient’s nervous system, and then overtaking their brain. So, it stands to reason that Will’s physiology has been permanently altered, even though he’s technically no longer infected.”

“Does that mean I could have some lasting changes, too?”

Sam meets his gaze before getting an unfocused look, like he’s pondering his answer.

“It’s…possible,” he says slowly. “Now, Will was in the other dimension, physically in contact with elements we still know very little to nothing about. While you’ve never been there, or had any contact with anything alien, save the particles that took refuge inside of you.”

“I think you mean that they totally took advantage of the fact that I was unconscious and defenseless.”

“Um, that too,” Sam amends. “But, ah, the second possibility is that what happened was all Will. He might’ve been worried about you and, in his heightened state of stress and anxiety, he could have triggered his own dormant telepathic ability. I mean, he was able to spy on the entity before, which is really just an acute case of remote viewing; which Jane can do as well.”

“Uh huh…” Billy fights off a dizzy spell, telling himself it’s only the result of his overtired mind trying to take in too much crazy information, all at once. “So, I’m not infectious, though, am I?”

“Infectious?” Sam echoes, squinting at him. “Uh, I don’t think so. Well, not unless you happen to exchange a large amount of blood or bodily fluids with anyone. Or, you know, the sentient particles decide to relocate on their own. But we’ve never experienced that, at least not so far.”

Billy winces as a pit forms in his stomach.

“Great, so I’ve got the supernatural equivalent of AIDS,” he grumbles, glancing towards the front hallway. “Shit…”

Sam grabs his arm, giving it a bit of a squeeze.

“You haven’t been sexually active since all of this started, have you?”

“I mean…” Billy bites his lip hard enough that he thinks he might cut it on his teeth. “Maybe one partner; but we used a condom.”

What Billy doesn’t say is that he wasn’t the one wearing it, because he didn’t need to.

“Uh, okay. Maybe I should, ah, take a few samples from this person later. Just to be sure.”

“Great,” he mutters, his face pinching. “Just fucking great.”

{~~~~~}

Billy didn’t know what exactly they had in mind, but a shed full of heaters, and every crack and crevice covered and sealed, was not it.

“Yeah, they did this for Will,” Max whispers, lingering by his elbow. “I hate this, by the way.”

“Uh, I’m not loving it much either,” Billy mutters, hooking a finger into the collar of his sweatshirt. “It’s way too hot in here already. I’ll probably be nothing but a husk by the time they’re done.”

“That’s the idea. Not the husk but the heat,” Sam says, chuckling as he leans on his cane. “Jim set up one of his security cameras so we can watch from inside the house. We’re thinking of having Joyce, Will and your sister—”

“No,” Billy huffs, interrupting. “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want Will in here. It’s a fucking death trap with zero ventilation. If I start spewing particles, I don’t want him anywhere in breathing range.”

Will spins around on him, locking eyes.

“But, Billy!”

“Sorry, kid. Not happening.” He huffs out a sigh, the temperature and late hour making him a little lightheaded. “We gotta protect you—for real.”

“Honestly, I agree,” Joyce says, holding her son by the shoulders. “Stay with Sam in the house, Will. You can watch from there, with Jonathan, and we’ll have the walkie open the whole time. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, giving Billy a rueful look as he drags his feet back out of the shed. “But come and get me if you need me.”

“Will do,” Joyce says, nodding.

“Well, I’m staying,” Max declares. “You’ll have to knock me out cold to get me to go.”

“Uh, that won’t be necessary,” Sam says slowly. “You have the deepest connection to Billy since you’ve known him the longest, and you share a, ah, complicated history. But if Will isn’t staying, perhaps Jim can take his place?”

“Uh, I wanna be here,” Steve says, raising his hand high. “I was the one who snapped Billy out of his crazy trance before, or whatever that was.”

“Are you sure, Harrington?” Hopper asks, adjusting the metal chair against the support column. “It could get pretty rough in here.”

“Hey, if Max can handle it, so can I,” he says, shrugging.

“Oh, you have no idea what my sister can handle, Bambi,” Billy says, giving his bicep a squeeze. “But I want you to be here. Not sure I can do this at all if I knew you were gonna be all the way in the house.”

“Great,” Sam claps his hands. “Mom, Dad, little sis, and the best friend. Sounds good. I’ll start making my way back to the setup in the kitchen with Will while Billy gets settled.”

Billy looks from Sam to Steve, then to the chair with the thick ropes waiting for him.

“Do you think we should tell him that Steve’s more than just a best friend?” Hopper whispers to Joyce.

“Sam?” Joyce snorts, moving to lock the door. “Let it be a fun surprise.”

Hopper grins before dipping to press a kiss to her lips. Although Billy finds them to be embarrassingly adorable, he frowns.

The heat is really getting to him now.

“You doing okay, Bee?”

“I mean, I’m hot as hell and my balls are sweating. But, other than that, I’m fantastic.”

“Ew,” Max scoffs. “Please don’t talk about your ball sweat around me.”

Billy laughs, and tugs on her braided pigtail—then he sways on his feet, his eyes rolling back slightly.

“Okay, time to get him in the chair,” Hopper says hurriedly, moving to guide Billy over. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get this rodeo over with.”

“No—wait. Please don’t tie me up,” Billy pleads, trembling as he presses his hands into Hop’s chest. “I’m begging; it’s too much.”

“Did his old man ever tie him up?” Hopper asks Max.

“Why are you asking her?” Billy whimpers, his tone almost manic. “Doesn’t fucking matter what Neil ever did. It’s way too hot, and we’re all gonna suffocate in here.”

Steve steps into Billy’s side, his knee knocking into the back of the other’s leg as he gives him a shove.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, holding him firmly as Hopper gets the ropes around him. Can’t have you running off just yet, okay?”

“You’re totally sleeping on the couch tonight,” Billy growls.

“Hey, it’s better than your floor,” he laughs.

“Yes, but so much farther away, dummy,” Max points out.

The grin slips off of Steve’s face.

The walkie in Hopper’s hand crackles.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Sam calls. “But maybe, if you could move a little to the right, Jim? You’re very tall and you’re blocking the camera.”

“He means you have a big head,” Joyce teases.

“Okay, ha ha,” Hopper deadpans, taking a large step to the side. “Better?” he asks into the walkie.

“Perfect.”

Billy lets out a pathetic grunt as Hopper finishes tying the last knot at his ankle and moves away.

“You still with us, Billy?”

Max’s voice filters through the buzzing in Billy’s head. He doesn’t know if it’s been hours, or only seconds since Hopper finished securing his ropes. The orange-hot glow of the space heaters reduces the people around him to dark blobs, and any sound is somehow muffled, competing with the droning, mechanical hum.

“Yeah, think so…” he mumbles, and a sense-memory drags out of the depths of his mind.

A hot California summer day at the garage. Billy’s been working there to pay off the latest repair on his Camaro. Bent over a carburetor, the scent of engine grease mixes with sweat and cheap aftershave. He feels someone step up beside the truck, and he turns to look over his shoulder.

Expecting to find Alex’s familiar green and gold eyes and usual smirk, he’s surprised to see El standing there, her short curls bouncing when she tilts her head.

“What’re you doing here, Ellie?”

“I want you to show me before the monster tries to take you again,” she answers, glancing around. “But this is not Will’s old house.”

“Wait, you want me to show you what, exactly?”

“The night I closed the gate,” she says plainly. “The night the bad shadow infected you.”

The fiery glow intensifies around the edges of El’s form, burning his retinas. As it dims, the garage fades with it, leaving him standing alone in his coveralls with El in an empty blackness.

“What—where are we?” he asks, squinting at the emptiness surrounding them.

“This is the Void,” she says quietly, holding out her hand. “It is… An in-between place. Please, take my hand.”

Billy hesitates, staring down at her pale fingers. Then a chill starts to set in, despite the sweltering heat in the shed, and he holds her hand, lacing their fingers together. The moment they touch, a door appears a few feet from them. As they move towards it, the Byers’ house springs up around it, the front porch and broken front window, too.

“This is so weird,” Billy whispers.

“Remember,” El says, looking up at him. “This is only a memory. Nothing that you see or feel can hurt you.”

“Right, ‘cause it already has,” he snorts.

A little disappointed that they won’t be able to see Max peeling down the long driveway with Steve and everybody packed into his Camaro, Billy moves up the porch stairs. They feel solid and just as real as the last time he was there, during the move. Even the front door creaks on the hinges as El swings it open.

“I forgot the window was broken,” Billy mumbles.

“Yes, that was me,” El admits. “I stopped a demodog outside the house, and I think I was a bit too, ah, strong with my attack. It went right through the window and scared everyone.”

“I bet.” He gives her hand a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

“You do not think it will help, do you?”

“Seeing me hoover up a bunch of dust while I’m unconscious? Yeah, no. Not especially.”

El tugs on his arm and pulls towards the kitchen. There, sprawling on the floor, is Billy from several weeks ago. Nose bloodied and knuckles bruised, he lets out a soft moan as his dark lashes flutter.

“Wow, I look like shit,” present day Billy mutters. “I really only did up a couple of my shirt buttons, huh? No wonder Neil wanted to smack me around.”

“Billy, concentrate,” El chides. “What do you remember?”

He huffs out a breath and closes his eyes, but all he can sense is the way his skin prickles from the hot space heaters.

“I was just lying there,” he says, opening his eyes again and stepping closer. “Then, I dunno? I guess I felt somebody come and stand over me; like this—”

Billy demonstrates by looming over his own head, bending at the waist until his curls fall into his eyes.

“—But I guess nobody was actually there,” he adds, tilting his head to meet her gaze.

It’s then that an icy wind blows in through the broken window, and a cloud of shadowy particles with it. They swirl and move like a swarm, as though being directed or drawn to the one warm body in the otherwise abandoned house.

“Show me,” El says, searching his gaze.

“Show you?” he repeats, his brows knitting together as he gestures to the cloud which is now hovering just above his past self. “Uh, can’t you see what’s happening? I mean, I don’t know about you, but it’s giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“Not the outside,” she grumbles, clasping a hand around his wrist. “The inside, Billy. Show me what you saw in your mind.”

“In my…”

The particles finish their foreplay and dive straight for Billy’s head, entering his open mouth, up through his nose, and even into his ears and eyes. It’s quite a thing to watch, and Billy really doesn’t want to. He’s had enough and wants nothing more than to shut his eyes—or run. But the room suddenly shifts around them, and El gets her wish.

Billy somehow merges with the memory on the floor. Lying there, heavy and immobile, he feels someone come to stand over him. This time, however, he can feel El’s fingers tighten on his wrist, and he tries to remember what she said. How this is a memory and nothing here can hurt him anymore.

This, of course, doesn’t stop him from feeling absolutely terrified.

A figure emerges from the shadowy particles and, perhaps for the first time—at least that Billy can remember—a man comes into focus. Cool blue eyes, clearer than Billy’s own but not as bright as his sister’s, and a thin smile on a narrow face. His body is more difficult to make out than his head, but his clothes seem to be rags, torn and dingy.

“What an unexpected gift,” a low, graveled voice murmurs. “William, yet not. And so full of wondrous, beautiful pain. Yes, you shall do quite nicely.”

The shadowy swarm descends, just as before, suffocating and drowning, overloading his mind and every sense—and Billy starts to convulse. Jaw locking and muscles clenching, his body tries to fight off the violating assault, to no avail.

And another memory flashes, without warning. One where Billy was also held down, his mouth pried open, hair yanked unkindly, and something else was shoved forcibly down his throat.

El yelps and lets go of Billy’s hand.

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asks, his voice crackling through the radio. “Jane’s crying and Will just screamed.”

“Can’t you see, Sam?” Joyce asks, turning towards the camera, her annoyance clearly visible. “What do you mean the kids are upset? What’s happening there?”

“We were just trying to talk to Billy,” Hopper supplies. “But nobody was getting through to him. “Was like he was looking right through us, and he started twitching.”

“Then his eyes rolled back in his head,” Max says hurriedly, hugging herself. “Now he’s shaking so bad… What do we do?”

“C’mon, Bee,” Steve murmurs, his palm pressing into his chest, skin to skin, inside of his shirt collar. “You can do this. Push that shit out of you.”

“I think El was doing her mind-meld thing,” Sam replies at last. “Not sure what she did, or saw, if I’m honest. Didn’t even know she was doing it.”

“How bad is it?” Jonathan asks, the sound of Will’s whimpers carrying over the radio too, from somewhere close-by. “Is Billy doing okay?”

“Not especially,” Hopper mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Maybe this was a bad idea. This so-called infection changes every time, right? It’s intelligent—learning…”

Steve cocks his head to the side, getting an idea.

“What did you see, El?” he asks, voice raised so she can hear him. “What’s got you so upset?”

“Do you think she might know something that can help him?” Hop asks carefully.

“I feel so dumb,” Max remarks, tugging Hopper’s hand, the one holding the walkie, closer to Steve. “El—come on. I know it’s probably something horrible, but we need to know.”

“There was this man,” El warbles, sniffling. “He hurt your brother. Made him do… Bad things. Things he did not want to do. Things that hurt him.”

“You’re talking about the shadow figure, right?” Steve hedges, his brows drawing together.

“Yes—but no,” she mumbles before letting out a shaky breath. “This was before. When he was younger, gentler…”

Steve notices the way Max’s eyes pop and her cheeks go red.

“Okay, El. You did great,” Steve says warmly. “Now try to forget about it, okay? Billy probably never intended for you to see any of that, and he’d probably be mortified of he knew you had.”

“Do you know what she’s talking about?” Joyce asks, her voice quiet.

“Yeah, I think I do.” Steve bites his lower lip, unsure of how much to say. “Billy told me that he didn’t get a lot of say in his first time. Like, his first, um, you know. Which makes me think that maybe… Fuck, El never should’ve seen any of that.”

“Then this is all up to you, Steve,” Joyce says, squeezing his shoulder as she holds his gaze. “You’re the one who showed him what love can be like. What it is to be respected and treated with kindness. So, keep talking to him, okay.”

“You don’t think Will saw anything through his new hive link thing, do you?” Hopper asks, wincing.

“Let’s worry about that later, Jim,” she mumbles. “Get the torch ready.”

“Wait—you really want me using that thing in this tiny, cramped space?”

“Yes, Jim. Why else would we have brought it?”

“What’s happening?” Max asks, trembling.

“Keep talking to your brother,” Hop says tightly , picking up the small flamethrower. “And when those particles come rushing out, ‘cause they will, well light ‘em up and burn them.”

“Billy?” Steve gently taps Billy’s cheek. “C’mon, baby, wake up. Can you hear me, Bee? Talk to me.”

Billy’s lashes flutter a few times before they open, and a crooked grin quirks the corners of his mouth.

“You should stop struggling to help him, Steven,” he says cooly. “We’re in so deep that you’ll never be able to rid him of us. But you can join him, if you’d like. You’d never feel alone or abandoned, ever again. Join us, and you’ll be with William, always. We can be your family, give you the sense of belonging you’ve always craved.”

“Make it stop!” Max pleads, covering her ears with her hands.

“Poor thing,” Billy remarks in a sing-song manner, fixing his gaze on her. “Daddy traded you for horses and money, both of which failed him, time and time again. While Mommy chose the promise of love with an abusive tyrant over that of her own daughter. Now she drowns her sorrows in booze and dilutions of a happy family that never existed. How tragic.”

“Shut up! You’re not my brother!” she spits, shutting her eyes. “Billy—I know you’re still in there. Fight that evil asshole!”

“He can’t hear you, Maxine,” Not-Billy hums. “He’s already surrendered. Just as you will—and all of your little friends. Very, very soon.”

Max squeals and throws herself into Joyce’s waiting arms, taking shelter from the hateful onslaught. Steve’s blood boils, and not from the too-many heaters surrounding him.

“Billy—it’s Steve. Please, try to remember the first day we walked around your new place. I got that old blanket out of my trunk, and we watched the sun going down over the lake. Then snow started to fall, and you’d never really seen it before; snow. You were so excited, just like a little kid, and we kissed. First you surprised me, then we fumbled around like middle schoolers, and it was… It was like realizing how fucking amazing it was to kiss anybody, ever. ‘Cause I never knew I could kiss a boy and feel so good. That I could kiss you and feel so much warmth and joy...”

Steve caresses Billy’s cheekbone as he talks, keeping his gaze locked on those stormy ocean eyes, even when they go nearly black.

“I love you, Billy,” he murmurs, smiling sadly. “On your good days and on your bad ones. And we’re gonna spend the holidays together, with your family. A family who loves you for exactly who you are, and will never hurt you, or turn their back on you. A family who’s right here, fighting to save you.”

“No…” Billy’s expression sours. “You… can’t—he’s mine…”

“No, shithead,” Steve says affectionately. “Billy’s ours. So why don’t you just fuck right off and go haunt somebody else’s sorry ass? Better yet—” He pauses and nods to Hopper. “Why don’t you go burn in Hell.”

“This isn’t over, Steven,” he growls. “One day… You will regret this.”

“Doubtful,” Steve snorts.

Hopper fires up the torch and swings it close enough to Billy’s head to singe a few of his curls. The flames lick at the air by his cheek, and the raw, still healing gash courtesy of Susan, starts to burn; even without any actual contact.

Steve can tell Hop is seconds from pulling away, but then Billy throws his head back, letting out a guttural groan.

His body thrashes as it rejects the alien particles that fly up throat and out of his mouth. Hopper catches them in the flames, burning them up. Joyce and Max cover their noses and mouths, mostly to keep from inhaling any, but also due to the stench. It’s like nothing Steve’s ever smelled before, a mixture of burning garbage and the rot of death, and he hides his face in the crook of his arm.

Then, at last, it’s over.

“Everybody out!” Hopper hollers.

Joyce scrambles to take the lock off the door. She ushers Max out into the chill of the night, and they pause to check each other before heading for the house.

But Steve doesn’t leave yet. He hurries to unplug the many heaters when Hopper sets down the torch to attend to Billy, untying the ropes and draping a blanket over him.

“Heya, kid. How ya doing?”

The cool air ghosts over the burn on Billy’s face and he whimpers. Lashes fluttering, he shivers and seems to make eye contact with Hopper.

“Am I dead?” Billy croaks.

“Nah, just a bit worse for wear,” Hop says, grinning.

Steve steps closer and notices the black substance at the corners of Billy’s mouth just before Hopper wipes it away with the edge of the blanket. He frowns when he realizes that the wound on Billy’s cheek also looks more black than red.

Hop turns his head, realizing he’s still there.

“I thought I told you to go?”

“Wouldn’t want you putting your back out when you try to move Billy on your own,” Steve says with an easiness he doesn’t feel. “Or, you know, burn down the shed by forgetting to shut all the space heaters off.”

Hopper gives him a grin, then reaches to pat his arm.

“Okay, maybe you’re right. You wanna help me out?”

“Sure thing, Hop.” Steve leans down on Billy’s other side, gently tucking the blanket around him. “Hey, Bee. Do you think you can stand up?”

“Not really, but it’s fucking freezing and I really need a shower.”

“I can help you in the bath, if you need it,” he offers, smiling. “You know, so you can sit down.”

Billy manages a small smirk.

“Mm, might just take you up on that offer, Bambi.”

They get Billy to his feet, taking his weight on either side. Then Hopper leaves Steve holding Billy at the bottom of the porch steps so he can open the front door.

“Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight?” Steve whispers, pressing a kiss to Billy’s shoulder.

Billy chuckles, and it’s a tired but not defeated sort of sound.

“Yeah, Stevie,” he says. “You don’t have to surf the couch tonight. And—you might need to take Max shopping, after all.”

“I’d be happy to,” Steve hums. “Anything for you, Billy.”

 

…

Chapter Text

“I’ll be home early, so don’t worry about making dinner,” Joyce says, slotting her arms into her coat. “And, if you need anything, ask El. I said she could go shopping with Will and Max, but she decided she wasn’t ready for the crowds of people on Main Street.”

On the couch, Billy adjusts the hot water bottle he’s holding against his ribs and cracks an eye open. Merry snuggles closer, mildly annoyed that he moved her comfy heat source, while her sister snoozes by his feet. It seems like her angry outburst from yesterday is all but forgotten, and she feels safe with him again.

“Okay, Ma—I’ve got it. Don't be late for work,” he mumbles gruffly, though he’s grinning. “And trust me, I’m not getting up unless I have to.”

Joyce pauses, beaming down at him, one glove on and the other still clutched in her hand.

“I know you’re only teasing, but Jim told me how you called him ‘pop’ the other day. Whether it was accidental or not, he was very pleased.”

Billy squints up at her. It doesn’t take a genius to tell she’s also quite pleased. He chuckles softly, then winces when his ribs ache.

“Well, if it makes you guys happy, I’ll see if I can make a habit out of it.”

She moves to sit by his hip and cups his cheek with her ungloved hand, her warmth bleeding into him.

“Only if it makes you happy,” she murmurs. “Just know that you’ll always be a part of this family.”

“You’re gonna be late,” he says, his chest tight as he refuses to let himself become a sobbing mess.

“It’s fine,” she says easily, reaching to scratch Merry under her chin. “My boss and I have an understanding.”

With that, she dips to press a kiss to his forehead. Then she stands and heads out of the room.

“My shift ends at six,” she throws over her shoulder. “And call for El if you need anything!”

Billy laughs and quickly swipes at his eyes. He tells himself that he’s only crying because he’s so rung-out. It has nothing to do with Joyce being all loving and motherly, and repeating herself like she really needs him to know how much she cares, even if she can’t stay by his side; though she wishes she could.

No, it’s nothing to do with that at all.

“What, don't give me that look,” he mutters to the kitten. Merry mewls and yawns, then settles her head against the soft water bottle cover, unconcerned.

Billy’s dozing off—or maybe he was sleeping, it’s hard to say—when he hears something plonk on the coffee table. Worried that one of the kittens is in the process of knocking something over, he opens his eyes.

“Sorry,” El whispers, Pippin tucked to her chest. “I made hot chocolate and wanted to leave you a cup.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. And don’t be sorry. That was really nice of you, Ellie.”

She smiles shyly.

“Pip tried to drink some and I had to grab her. I do not think cats should have chocolate.”

“No, they shouldn’t,” he says, grunting as he sits up a little, disturbing Merry. “Oh, you’re fine,” he remarks, scooping her up and setting her on his lap with the now cooling water bottle. “So dramatic.”

El giggles and Pippin purrs loudly in her arms.

“Would you like some cookies? We have not decorated them yet, but they taste very good.”

“Yeah, I guess we were gonna do that, huh?” he hedges, glancing at the tree. “The decorations look good by the way. You guys did a good job.”

“Oh, the lights,” El says distractedly, her head ticking to one side. They turn on with the movement, though her nose doesn’t bleed. “Better.”

“Much,” he hums. “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Okay,” she murmurs.

Billy drags himself up even more to make space, plus he doesn’t want to risk choking as he drinks his hot chocolate. From the first sip he can tell El really piled in the powdered mix, but he doesn’t mind.

She deposits Pippin beside her sister before disappearing into the kitchen. There’s a plate in her hands when she returns. It’s full of gingerbread cookies stamped out into various shapes, and she holds the plate out to him. Billy offers her a warm smile and takes a gingerbread reindeer with a misshapen antler.

“What should we watch?” she asks, taking a seat by his feet.

“You could just flip through the channels,” he suggests. “There’s always some sappy movie on, this close to Christmas.”

“Hop does not like sappy movies.”

Billy snorts.

“That’s what he might say, but I’m sure he does.” El grins and picks up the TV remote. “Funny, I was expecting you to click around with your mind,” he muses.

“I only do that when I am grumpy,” she says casually.

“Yeah, too annoyed to even find the remote,” he sighs. “I get that.”

She nods and stops on ‘Frosty the Snowman’ for a moment. As she clicks away though, Billy feels almost relieved.

“Billy?”

He hesitates, worried that she might’ve read his mind, or something.

“Yeah, Ellie?”

She turns to meet his gaze, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip.

“Are you okay?”

Billy nudges her thigh with his foot.

“I’m okay. Just sore—and a bit tired,” he says earnestly. “Thanks for helping me out last night. Not sure if I said anything, but I’m super grateful you were there, watching over me.”

El looks away, seemingly studying the screen and dancing fairies in ‘Fantasia’ as The Sugar Plum Waltz plays quietly in the background.

“I, uh, saw him,” she says quietly. “Your shadow. But I also saw…”

Billy can hear the tremble in her voice, and he can only imagine what else was going through his head during that fucked up fight for his life.

“Hey, c’mere,” he murmurs, dragging his legs off the couch and inching closer to her. “It’s okay, Ellie,” he soothes, pulling her into his arms. “Remember what you told me? It was all just memories. They can’t hurt us.”

“But they did,” she warbles. “They hurt you. And—the shadow. It makes you see those bad memories because it knows they hurt you.”

Billy wonders if she’s right, as he pets her hair. Wonders if maybe that’s where this thing gets all its strength and power; by using the pain of kids like Will and himself against them. That fear isn’t enough to satisfy this sick creature. That it wants to torment them and revel in their suffering.

“I guess that’s how evil works. It takes the pain and suffering of innocent people and makes them relive it, again and again. But that demon’s gone, El. It’s gone and we’re safe; because of you.”

“I hope so,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

Billy lets out a shaky breath as they let go of each other. He certainly hopes so, too. For all their sakes, especially for Steve who had no idea what he was signing up for when they messed around in his guest room. But he’ll definitely rest a whole lot easier once Sam gets back to them with everybody’s test results, that’s for sure.

“Hey, are you going to the Wheelers’ Christmas party on Monday—Christmas Eve?”

El wrinkles her nose.

“I do not know.”

“Everybody’s going, even the folks,” he says, taking another sip of his hot chocolate so he doesn’t laugh. “Even me.”

“You are going?” She knits her brows together. “Why?”

“Because,” he chuckles, shrugging. “Max wants me to go. I guess it’s, like, a tradition, or something. Family and friends. I mean, Lucas and Dustin are going, and their families are also invited. So, I guess you can look at it this way; going to cheesy family gatherings is part and parcel of being with your family during the holidays.”

“Is that what you did with your family—before?”

Billy can’t help but wince at that.

“No, Ellie. We didn’t have parties, or go to ‘em. Well, Neil would go to whatever awful office party his work was throwing. You know, come home late, pass out drunk and blame me if everything wasn’t ready Christmas morning. At least after Max and Susan joined our family. Before that, when it was just him and me, I’d be lucky if we even had a tree.”

“I have never had a tree,” El says wistfully, gazing up at the twinkling lights and mismatched ornaments on theirs. “I did not know about presents and Santa until Hop told me.”

“What about last Christmas?” he hedges, bumping shoulders. “Didn’t Pop put up a tree for you?”

A small smile curves her lips.

“Pop?” she echoes.

“Yeah, it’s something I’m trying,” he mumbles, his cheeks warming. “Never mind.”

“I like it, I think,” she giggles. “Last year, we had a little one. No lights, just bottle caps and bits of shiny silver.”

“Tinsel,” Billy hums fondly. “Hm, sounds like him.”

“But… We did not talk much. My words were…” She glances at him, blushing. “Not good, and Hop…Pop,” she corrects, grinning. “I think he was scared that I would run away.”

“Glad you didn’t,” he says, shifting Pippin onto her thighs. “But I guess you were like our little kittens, alone and left to fend for yourself. Only I doubt Hop coulda picked you up and forced you to come into his cabin. I’m guessing he knew you could snap necks and throw monsters through windows.”

She nods slowly.

“This movie is pretty,” she murmurs.

Billy looks at the screen and grins at the hippos in tutus.

“It’s…something,” he laughs. “They’re definitely very graceful for their size.”

“And the crocodiles are very nice. Have manners.”

“Right. So, I guess you shouldn’t judge anybody by their appearances. Someone who looks rough and dangerous could be a sweet, considerate dance partner."

El tucks her chin to her chest, her cheeks red.

“What’s this about?” he teases, gesturing at her face. “You thinking of somebody in particular? Someone special?”

“Noooo,” she giggles.

“Uh huh.” Billy snorts. “Nobody with curly hair under their baseball cap, maybe?”

Her head jerks, her look of surprise giving her away instantly.

“Ah, so it is Henderson.”

“I did not say that!” she squeals, making Pippin raise her head and perk her ears.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his hands up. “Nevermind. I just think you two look kind of cute together. And Dustin’s the kind of person who always tells you like it is. Well, I guess Mike is too—but I don’t think he’s really as into you as he wanted to be.”

“Into me?” El repeats, squinting at him.

“Like, he loves you—as a friend. Like family,” Billy explains, picking up a cookie. “But he isn’t in love with you.”

“Yes,” she sighs. “Mike is in love with Will.”

He almost chokes on his gingerbread.

“Yeah,” he wheezes. “I guess you picked up on that too, huh?”

“I am not stupid,” she mutters, snorting. “Mike wanted to find Will so badly. Even when we saw his body, at the quarry, Mike would not believe Will was dead. But then he made me confused. Because he said he would be my boyfriend—not like my brother. But, when he kissed me at the dance, it did not feel…special.”

“Probably felt like kissing your brother.” El nods. “Yeah, I get that. But, ah, has Dustin ever kissed you?”

“No,” she says, sighing. “But that is okay. Max says boys are dumb and he will kiss me when he realizes he likes me as a girlfriend. Whenever that is.”

“You know, there’s no rule that says you can’t kiss him first. I bet the Wheelers will put up some mistletoe at their house. It’s this plant with white berries that people hang in open doorways,” he elaborates when she gives him a quizzical look. “If you get caught standing under it, you’re supposed to kiss whoever is closest to you.”

“Oh…”

A smile slowly tugs on the corners of her mouth, and El bounces off the couch, over to the open arch between the hall and the living room, her hand flying up, above her head as she points.

“Like this?”

Billy instantly regrets his advice. She looked so young and innocent a second ago, munching on her cookie and watching cartoons. Even as El smiles excitedly, pointing up at the mistletoe that Hopper must’ve tacked up like a mischievous elf, Billy remembers that she’s only thirteen; like Max.

“But you don’t have to,” he adds, quickly backpedaling. “Kiss—I mean. It’s more of a thing for grownups.”

“No, I like it,” El beams, hurrying back and taking a big bite of her cookie. “If Dustin thinks that kissing is yucky, I can tell him it is the plant’s fault.”

Billy blinks at her.

“Damn, that’s really smart, Ellie. Good call.”

“I know,” she hums. “I told you I am not stupid.”

He circles an arm around her and presses a kiss to her hair.

“You’re definitely not, kid.”

El smiles and leans into him.

“Billy?”

“Yeah?”

She raises her gaze to him.

“Are you happy Steve will be staying with us for the holidays?”

Billy grins and huffs out a laugh, making his ribs ache again.

“Yeah, Ellie. I’m really happy Steve’s staying with us. I hate the idea of him sitting all alone in that big empty house. I just hope nobody else minds.”

“Why would they?” she asks innocently. “Steve is your boyfriend.”

Her response is so simple, but it makes him a little emotional.

“Thanks, kid,” he murmurs, giving her an extra squeeze. “But, word of advice?

El nods and sips her hot chocolate.

“Try not to grow up too fast. Seems like you had it rough, rougher than me, and now that you’re safe, you can be a kid, like you always should’ve been. So, don’t worry too much about kissing boys or caring what they think of you. Just enjoy being you, and figuring out what you think of you.”

She knits her brows together for a second, then she grins and presses a chocolate kiss to his scruffy cheek.

“Okay, Billy,” she says brightly. “I’ll try.”

He laughs, not bothering to wipe the sticky kiss away.

“Okay, good,” he hums. “Now let’s relax and watch the rest of this ridiculous movie.”

El giggles and piles the kittens into his lap before tucking under his arm. Although Billy wishes he was able to take Max out shopping instead of Steve, like he’d promised, this is pretty nice too, if he’s honest.

“Thank God for Steve,” he mumbles, sighing.

{~~~~~}

It’s Christmas Eve and the whole party goes over to the Wheeler’s house for a potluck dinner and festivities. Billy almost doesn’t go but, to his surprise, he finds out that Steve is going. That he wants to go.

“You could’ve stayed home, Bee,” Steve says quietly, handing Billy a bag full of wrapped gifts.

Billy glances down at the bag, pretending to ignore the way Steve checks his hair in the mirror hanging in the foyer, trying not to think of how many times his boyfriend might’ve gone through this ritual upon arrival to pick up Nancy, or have family dinner at her table.

“Why so many presents?” Billy asks, actually curious. “I thought we were only supposed to bring one each for that dumb party game.

“White elephant gifts,” Steve remarks, giving his hand a careful squeeze as he takes the bag back. “And a couple are just for Holly,” he adds, moving further into the house. “It’s her birthday tomorrow. That’s why her name’s Holly. Well, partly why, anyway.”

“Oh…” Billy blinks, his cheeks feeling hot for some reason. “Christmas must’ve sucked for Mike and Nance the year she was born.”

Steve snorts and nods towards the group gathered in the living room. The little girl with blonde pigtails sits wedged between her brother and Will, her eyes glued to the TV and whatever Christmas special is currently airing.

“Nancy wasn’t thrilled, but she told me that Mike was ecstatic, not that he’d ever admit it,” he says, voice lowered. “Have you met her yet? Holly, I mean.”

“Uh, no,” Billy replies, his gaze flitting to Max trying to wrestle a cookie away from Lucas before looking at the toddler again. “Not sure little kids are really my thing. They’re okay, I guess. Taught a few swimming and surf lessons to some older kids, back in California, but nobody who was still in diapers.”

“Holly’s not in diapers, Bee,” he snorts. “She’s gonna be five.”

Billy merely shrugs, having no concept of what a four or five year old should or should not be capable of.

“You came!” Karen intercepts Steve in the archway, lovingly wrapping her arms around him. “You look good, Steve. You smell good, too,” she adds laughing. “But you always do.”

Steve chuckles, throwing Billy a help me with his eyes. Karen must follow Steve’s eyeline, because she suddenly locks eyes with Billy before bashfully looking away.

“Oh, uh, hi,” she says, smiling nervously and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re Max’s brother, aren’t you? Billy, right?”

Billy can’t tell if Mrs. Wheeler is pretending she doesn’t remember their embarrassing flirtation in her kitchen, the night Max was missing, or if maybe she’d had too much wine and genuinely isn’t sure who he is.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says easily. “Although, I’m kind of a brother to a lot of people, these days.”

“Yes, I heard you and your sister were living with Jonathan and his family,” she says conversationally, glancing at Hopper and Joyce tucked into a corner by the tree. Joyce smiles coyly while he whispers something and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Hm, they seem happy,” she adds, an almost frown tugging at her fuchsia lips. “I suppose Joyce deserves some happiness after losing Bob, like she did.”

“The way I heard it, Hop always had a thing for her. He just never had the guts to admit it.”

Billy means this in the most affectionate way, but Karen gives him a long once over, like maybe she’s offended. Then she steps closer, her sweet perfume irritating his eyes a little, and Billy fights the urge to bolt from her.

“Look, about that night you came by asking about Max,” she says, whisper-soft. “I just wanted to apologize. I was… Very silly. I’d had some wine and was reading this trashy harlequin romance…” She laughs and leans away a fraction. “God, you must think I’m some desperate, pathetic house wife for the way I talked to you.”

“Hey, I was laying it on thick too,” he retorts, wincing. “Maybe we can just forget it ever happened?”

“Yes, exactly,” she laughs, her hand touching his arm before instantly pulling back. “I mean, God. You’re the same age as Nancy—I honestly had no idea. I thought you were at least college age.”

“Sure thing. Besides, you’re married,” Billy says pointedly. “But it was just a bit of harmless fun.”

“Yes… Harmless,” she says, frowning. “I… I’m so sorry about… You know, the reason why you’ve ended up living with Joyce and Chief Hopper. I know it’s none of my business, and we don’t really know each other yet, but. Could I ask you a favor, Billy?”

Billy takes a steady breath, bracing himself for whatever nonsense she’s about to say next.

“Sure, Mrs.Wheeler. What’s up?”

“Michael…” She folds her arms around herself. “Would you mind watching out for him when you can? I know Jonathan’s around, but he gets distracted sometimes, and he already has Will to worry about. I never asked Steve to—while he was dating Nancy—because I didn’t think they got along. And, I might be mistaken, but I think my son actually likes you.”

Billy can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest.

“You want me to watch out for Mike,” he says slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, I can, but he might not like it much, even if he likes me fine. The kid’s kind of prickly.”

“I’ve noticed,” Karen hums, smiling fondly. “But I’ve also noticed how close he is to his best friend, and even though he went to that school dance to be with that girl—Jane? He still ended up going home with Will.”

“Well, they live together—Jane and Will,” Billy mumbles, his pulse picking up a little. “But if you’re worried about what I think you are…” He narrows his eyes at her. “Wait, why’re you talking to me about this?”

“Steve looks very nice tonight, doesn’t he?” She muses, seemingly changing the subject. “I guess he’s taken a page out of Joyce’s book and found somebody special to ease the grief of his broken heart. Not that my daughter died—maybe that was a bad example. But he does look happy.”

Billy squints at her even more, and a wry grin fights its way onto his mouth.

“You’re a very complex woman, Mrs. Wheeler,” he hums. “And maybe a better mom than I realized. And Mike’s gonna be just fine. He’s got good friends watching out for him.”

“Thanks,” she says, patting his arm without pulling away this time. “Now, please. I’ve monopolized your time enough. Go and enjoy the party.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “I’ll do my best.”

As Billy steps away, Ted moves closer and snakes a protective arm around his wife. He chances a glance behind and catches Karen giggling as her jealous husband presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Seeing Ted for the first time, Billy almost feels sorry for Karen, but they appear to be happy.

Then again, it could be the extra rum in the eggnog. Billy can smell it before he even lifts his cup to his face.

“That’s the refreshments for the grown-ups,” Nancy says, intercepting him. “You might want something from over there.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, wrinkling his nose as he puts down the cup and helps himself to some punch. “I guess we’ll be driving the folks home tonight.”

“Might be,” she grins.

Billy turns around, searching for Steve, as he sips his drink. He spots him talking with a woman by Dustin. Judging by the annoyed faces the younger boy is pulling, this must be Mrs. Henderson. Billy smiles to himself, remembering how Steve told him about staying over with them after his concussion, and how Dustin was always trying to convince him to basically move in.

Like maybe the kid’s a bit jealous of Max and Will for having so many adopted siblings while he has none at all, poor guy.

“You okay?” Steve asks, making his way over.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbles, shrugging. “Mrs. Wheeler wasn’t actually too horrible. What about you? Henderson’s mom wasn’t smothering you too much, I hope.”

Steve snorts, knitting his brows together.

“No, Claudia’s great,” he says easily, grinning. “But—why would Karen be horrible to you? Am I missing something?”

Billy sighs.

“Well, I sort of stopped for directions when I was looking for Max, that day she ran off on me. And, well. Let’s just say I laid on the charm pretty thick—and she was kind of into it.”

Steve glances over at Karen.

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Billy adds, chuckling nervously. “Mrs. Wheeler was just telling me how embarrassed she feels about the whole thing. You know, now that she knows I’m still in high school.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty ick-worthy revelation.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, we’re good now, I guess.”

Steve eyes his cup, frowning.

“Good,” he hums. “I hear the eggnog is mostly rum. Better stick to the kiddie drinks.”

“Thanks, and definitely,” Billy chuckles, holding his cup higher. “I was just telling Nance that the chances are high that we’ll be driving the folks home tonight, given the way they’re chugging the nog back.”

“Hey, I’m just happy Karen isn’t tipsy enough to try kissing you under the mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe?” El asks, popping up at Steve’s side, startling him. “Where?”

“Just over there,” Billy says, biting back a laugh. “Hanging between the kitchen and the living room. See?”

El cranes her neck and a grin slowly spreads across her face.

“I see it,” she whispers, her eyes lighting up.

Dustin walks by, brushing past Billy’s elbow.

“Whoa, where’re you going, Henderson?” Billy asks, his heart pounding.

“My mom wants me to get the shortbread she made,” Dustin replies, eyeing him suspiciously. “The tin’s in the kitchen. Why?”

“Uh…” Billy bites his tongue as El dashes into the kitchen first. “No reason.”

So much for not trying to kiss boys.

“What’s going on?” Steve chuckles.

“You’ll see,” he mumbles.

Billy does his best not to stare, but can’t help but watch.

El catches Dustin’s sleeve as he returns with the tin, and as he turns towards her, confused, she presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Dustin,” El murmurs.

“Uh, yeah…” He grins, all teeth. “Merry Christmas, El.” Then he pops open the tin. “Cookie? They’re my mom’s specialty. They’re really good.”

El blushes and picks one, taking a bite.

“Very good,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

Dustin tilts and kisses her cheek before taking her hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together.

“Come sit with me?”

She nods.

“Nice one, Dee,” Steve whispers as they pass by. “Mistletoe kiss on Christmas Eve.”

Dustin gives him a look over his shoulder, then realization dawns on him, spotting the mistletoe for what appears to be the first time.

“You realize this means that he wanted to kiss El,” Billy says, knocking shoulders.

“Well, she did kiss him first,” Steve points out. “Would’ve been rude not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how kissing works, Bambi.”

“No?” Steve smirks, leaning in closer. “And just how does it work, exactly?”

“Not in front of my parents, boys,” Nancy mutters, tapping Steve’s ass with her foot from where she sits cuddled up with Jonathan. “Sorry—but you can, ah, go to the basement, maybe?”

Steve and Billy exchange a glance, then burst out laughing.

“She didn’t really mean that, guys,” Jonathan winces.

“Yeah, I did,” she retorts. “My dad might not own a gun, but he’s conservative as hell and has a pretty good golf swing, if you know what I mean.”

“We won’t ruin your Christmas party, Nancy,” Steve teases. “Promise.”

“Oh, we won’t?” Billy muses.

Steve barks out another laugh and grabs Billy by the hand, pulling him out of the living room. Although vaguely aware of the Wheelers’ basement, Billy’s never been in it before. He just knows this is where the kids hang out if they aren’t at their house.

Billy slows on the stairs when Steve shuts the door behind them, a little bit anxious.

“There’s a door to the outside, over there,” Steve remarks, gesturing to the door on the back wall. “So, don’t feel trapped, okay? Besides, I’m here with you,” he adds, giving Billy’s hand a squeeze.

“Do you think Mike’ll be mad if he finds out we made-out on his couch?”

“We don’t have to tell him,” Steve says, grinning impishly as he tugs Billy down to the cushions. “But, if he does find out, we can just tell him to consider it his Christmas present to us.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine he would’ve gotten us anything.”

“Exactly.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Billy, into the cushions, and he leans into Steve, kissing him softly.

“Hey, Bee?”

Billy nuzzles his nose behind Steve’s ear.

“Yeah, Stevie?”

“I know we were gonna wait until we got home…”

He can feel Steve shifting positions and reaching into his pocket.

“Hey—making-out in somebody else’s house is one thing, but I’m not fucking you on Mike Wheeler’s couch. That’s where I draw the line. I mean, I know Sam gave us the all-clear, but there’s a house full of people above our heads, Bambi, and you’re not exactly quiet.”

“Oh, my God,” Steve laughs, showing Billy his hands. “Relax, baby. I wasn’t reaching for condoms. I wanted to give you one of your presents.”

“Oh—” Billy blinks at him before looking down at his open palm and the small, wrapped box. “Sorry, I just… I didn’t bring yours with me.”

“I know,” he hums. “I almost gave it to you before we left the house, but we ran out of time.”

Billy meets his gaze, then looks down at the shiny red bow.

“Go on,” Steve murmurs. “Take it.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Billy carefully picks up the gift with shaking hands. He’s hardly gotten any presents in the last few years, let alone from a boyfriend, and his heart skips as he slips the ribbon off.

“Maybe I should wait…”

“But I want you to open it now.”

“You know, Mrs. Wheeler asked me to watch out for Mike. Well, both of us, really. Was kind of sweet, but weird, you know?”

“You’re stalling,” Steve murmurs, reaching to tuck a curl behind Billy’s ear. “But, yeah, that is sort of sweet. Do you think she knows we’re dating?”

“Maybe?” Billy hedges, meeting his eyes. “But, more importantly, does she know Mike’s got it bad for his best friend?”

“By this point—she must,” he says, shrugging. “Mike went kind of crazy trying to find Will, and he stayed with him while he was possessed, and he hasn’t really left his side since.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious, if you’re paying attention.”

“And thank God his dad isn’t,” Steve remarks. “Ted looked so baffled when Jonathan cozied up to Nance, right in front of me. I almost feel sorry for the guy.”

“Sorry I missed that. Must’ve been kind of hilarious,” Billy snorts.

“It was—but enough stalling.” Steve shifts closer, his leg swinging over Billy’s knees, as if wanting to keep him from escaping. “Please open your gift, Bee. If you hate it, just tell me. I promise I’ll understand. Okay?”

Billy’s not really worried about hating it. He’s more concerned he’ll melt into a gooey puddle of ugly tears and unsexy sobs.

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’m gonna love it, no matter what it is,” he mumbles, gently unsticking the tape and doing his best not to rip the wrapping paper.

Inside is a red box. It looks like one from a jewelry store. Billy recognizes the emblem as belonging to the one shop in Hawkins that looks like it sells real diamonds and jewels. Where everything’s actual gold and silver, and nothing’s plated.

“It’s not gonna bite,” Steve says, clearly holding in a laugh as Billy eases open the lid. “I swear.”

Billy shoots him a look.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just trying to enjoy this as long as I can. I don’t get a lot of presents.” Steve’s brows furrow at this. “And I’m not telling you that so you’ll feel sorry for me, okay. I’m just explaining why I’m taking so long. Well, I’m also kinda terrified what might be in a jewelry box from Howard’s.”

“It’s nothing too crazy,” he mumbles. “At least, I hope you like it.”

That’s when Billy realizes that Steve’s knee has been jiggling since he started peeling back the wrapping paper, and his boyfriend is just as nervous as he is.

“I told you, I’m sure I’ll love it,” Billy murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss to Steve’s lips. “Relax, Bambi.”

Steve grins and steals another kiss, his hand squeezing Billy’s knee, sending tiny sparks up his thigh.

“Okay, I’m relaxed.”

“That makes one of us,” Billy remarks, snorting.

Then he holds his breath and finally lifts the lid off the box. Inside, two dangling earrings in gold with a twist of silver catch the lamp light. There aren’t any diamonds or gems, which Billy’s glad of, and he smiles, blushing. It’s honestly the fanciest thing he’s ever gotten.

“I love ‘em, Steve,” Billy breathes, already taking out the gold hoop in his ear.

“They only come in pairs. But I guess you’ll have a backup in case you ever lose one.”

Billy tucks the hoop into the box and sets it on the table before easily securing the new earring in its place.

“I won’t,” he says confidently. “Which means maybe it’s high time you get a piercing of your own. Then we can share, like some weirdly-obsessed-with-each-other couple.”

Steve laughs.

“Nah, I really don’t think so.”

“Oh, no?” Billy’s eyes dance with mischief. “I can do it right now. All I need is a sewing needle and some ice.”

“What—no!” he cries, hurrying to get away as Billy jumps at him. “Get off of me! It’s never gonna happen!”

“C’mon, pretty boy. You’d look like a princess,” Billy cackles.

Steve squawks and laughs as Billy climbs on top of him and presses him into the couch cushions. Billy grins wolfishly, pinning him down, his earring glinting as it sways.

“Thought I already was a princess,” Steve pouts, his chest heaving.

“‘Course you are, Stevie,” he murmurs, breathless. “You’re the prettiest princess I ever saw.”

Steve reaches up and cups his jaw, drawing him down for a needy kiss. Billy doesn’t fight him, doesn’t want to. He parts his lips and deepens their connection, his hips rolling.

“Love my gift,” Billy mumbles against his lips. “S’perfect.”

“Love that you love it,” Steve grins, kissing him again and squeezing his ass.

“Oh, come on!”

They didn’t even hear the door open or the footfalls on the wooden steps. Billy cranes his neck, though Steve can’t see past the arm of the old couch, and finds not only Mike, but Will standing at the bottom of the staircase.

“Mike, don’t yell at them,” Will mumbles, cheeks red. “It’s embarrassing.”

“How can I not? This isn’t their house, and there’s a party upstairs. S’kinda rude, guys.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve shifts and leans up on an elbow. “And you two weren’t just sneaking down here for some secret alone time?”

“Don’t tease, Stevie,” Billy snorts, moving off of him. “I don’t think it’s cute.”

“You know what’s not cute?” Mike snarks. “Walking in on you two making the beast with two backs—on my sofa.”

“Ugh, Mike,” Will groans. “They weren’t. Their clothes are still on.”

“Another minute or two and we would’ve needed to burn that couch, and you know it!”

“Okay, settle down, Wheeler,” Steve huffs, though he’s close to laughing. “We aren’t animals.”

Mike narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you, though?”

“C’mon, Bambi,” Billy drawls, getting to his feet and tucking his little box into his pocket. “Let’s give the boys the basement.”

When Steve gives him a disappointed pout, he adds, “You can give Holly one of her birthday presents…”

“—Yeah, okay!”

Steve pops up, hurrying to the stairs before briefly stopping to fix his hair with his fingers.

“Do I look okay?”

Will gives him a look like he just grew a second head.

“You always look okay,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?” Mike scoffs, eyeing Will.

“What? He does.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Mikey,” Billy teases, tousling his hair. “Steve’s taken, after all.”

Mike hits his hand away, and Billy can’t help but laugh; the kid’s got such a naturally grumpy face.

“Play nice boys,” he muses, heading up after Steve.

“Yeah, and don’t do anything we would do,” Steve quips, snorting.

“I hate you both, by the way!” Mike cries.

“No, you don’t,” they call back, in unison.

{~~~~~}

After the Christmas morning chaos of opening presents subsides, Billy slips into the garage for one last gift.

“Here,” Billy says, setting the long, poorly wrapped, skateboard shaped present across Max’s lap. “Should’ve given you this sooner, but I got, uh, a bit busy lately.”

Max blinks up at him.

“Billy… You already gave me a Walkman and some cassettes,” she says slowly. “It’s okay. I mean, you didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I did,” he says, crouching down beside her. “I said I’d get you a new one. I broke yours, and that duct tape makes me nervous every time you ride it. Even if it’s just on the porch. So, Merry Christmas, Mad Max.”

Max encircles her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly.

“Thanks, Billy,” she mumbles. “I guess seeing that broken board just reminds you of darker days, huh?”

“It’s just not safe,” he retorts, chuckling as they part. “But, yeah. Maybe.

“Seriously, though,” she says, lowering her voice as she glances around at everybody and the gifts he somehow managed to get for them. “Did you use all of your savings?”

“Not all of it,” he shrugs. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got time to get a job or two. It’s only money, Max.”

Max grins, her eyes shining.

“Does this mean that maybe you won’t take off for California the minute you turn eighteen?”

“I mean, it’s cold as fuck here, and some of the guys at my school are real dickheads,” he says, shrugging. But then his gaze lands on Steve making a many colored crown out of the discarded bows with El, and he has to laugh to keep from crying. “But yeah,” he hums, giving her a squeeze. “Yeah, I think I might just stick around. If that’s okay with you?”

“I guess it’s okay,” she says, sighing before laughing. “Yes—jerkface. Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay.”

“Uh, oh,” Jonathan mumbles, lowering his camera. “I think Pippin’s in the tree.”

“Again?” Joyce huffs. “Jim, I thought you put the kittens upstairs?”

“I did!” he calls from the kitchen. “They’re regular Houdinis, those ones.”

“More like lumberjacks,” Joyce mutters.

Will rolls his eyes and gets up from his seat, moving carefully towards the tree and gently extracting Pippin from the higher branches. He sets her down in Max’s lap, then he goes to find Merry in a large, now empty, box by the couch, and tucks her under his chin.

“They just wanted to be a part of the fun,” he says, grinning.

Hopper returns with a mug of freshly brewed coffee, his arms snaking around Joyce as they lean against each other and look fondly at the mess, and all of their kids.

“I think we did pretty good this year,” Hop says softly. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw.

Steve crawls back over to Billy and drapes an arm over his shoulders, tugging him close.

“I think this was my best Christmas ever,” he whispers, planting a kiss in Billy’s curls.

“Yeah,” Billy hums, a wonderful warmth spreading in his chest. “Think it was mine, too. Merry Christmas, Bambi.”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Steve grins.

 

…