Chapter Text
Steve really should have expected Billy Hargrove to show up.
Because at this point in Steve’s year-long stroke of luck, why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t expecting Billy to take in the house, to take in the kids, to take in him, and begin to piece together that maybe something wasn’t right. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it wasn’t right for the right reason. He thought there was so weird sex thing happening between four young boys and Steve and yeah, Steve understood how bad this looked.
So he was expecting the punch.
And he was expecting the fight.
But he wasn’t expecting having to be the one drive an unconscious Billy Hargrove to the police station so his dad could be called to pick him up.
Max had elected to stay behind with Joyce, hell, after the night they just had Steve couldn’t blame her, but that meant it was just him driving Billy’s car to the station. He turned on the radio for lack of anything else to do, to take his mind off the dark turning pink as the sun rose, to try not to focus on how his body was crashing after his adrenaline began to fade.
His heart was still racing, skipping in his chest like a hurt rabbit, and he tried to remind himself to breathe as he drove down familiar Hawkins streets. It’d been a while since he drove this early to clear his mind, and he got lost in the feel of it, almost forgetting that there was a body passed out across his backseat.
“What the fuck?” he heard Billy slur and almost jumped out of his skin. Immediately he was on edge, expecting to be hit, expecting another fight, and shit he was driving, he couldn’t defend himself. He glanced in the rearview mirror, saw Billy’s eyes struggle to open as the guy wiped at the dried blood around his nose. He didn’t wake up angry, which was what Steve had been expecting.
Instead, he was confused, subdued, looking almost soft in the back of the car.
“Shit,” Steve said without thinking and Billy turned his attention to him. “Um, you’re awake.”
Billy blinked.
“No shit,” he sighed, rubbing at his head with a low grown. Steve knew how that felt, he was exhausted, entire body hurting, from both Billy’s fists and the exertion of climbing in a weird alive tunnel all night.
“Max is with Mrs. Byers,” Steve felt the need to say, because for all of Billy’s fury there had been a bit of concern as well. “They’re eating and going to bed. She’s safe.”
“She better be, little shit,” Billy huffed with no real fire to his words. Steve bristled. He didn’t like how Billy talked about Max, how he treated her, but this wasn’t the time for him to lecture the guy. Not when his back was to him.
“I was gonna take you to the station,” Steve said, slowing down at a stop sign as they neared closer into the edge of town, “But if you’re awake I can take you home.” Steve just wanted to go to bed. He’d be happy dropping Billy off here. He’d be upset at the guy if he wasn’t so tired, and he was upset, Hargrove had really done a number on his face, and even the bandana wasn’t helping cover the worst of it.
He’d pulled it down around his neck though, so he was sure Billy could make out some of the swelling even in the dark. When Billy didn’t answer Steve turned in his seat to look.
There was a faraway look in Billy’s eyes, his expression one of soft resignation and hard determination. It was a strange mix, and one that made Steve curious. After a while, Billy shrugged.
“You hungry?” he asked, not meeting Steve’s eyes.
Steve had to bite down on his annoyance.
“I want to drop you off and be done with the night,” Steve answered honestly. Billy surprised him by laughing, and not a mocking laugh, a soft one. One that seemed to understand that Steve didn’t want to be around him for a second longer, one that said Billy didn’t want to be with himself either.
“Look,” Billy said, finally turning his gaze to meet Steve’s, “this has been a fucked up night. My sister is still at some whack-jobs house, you all were dressed like exterminators or some shit, and my dad’s gonna kill me coming home without Max, so you owe me an explanation, Harrington.”
Steve scoffed.
“I don’t owe you shit, you beat my face in,” Steve snapped. The familiar fire returned to Billy’s eyes, but it was gone almost as fast as it had appeared. Steve didn’t know what had happened after Billy beat him unconscious, but it had to have been enough to spook Billy into good behavior. It was enough to knock the older dude out, at least.
“Let me buy you some coffee and you tell me what the hell just went down. Sound good?” Billy asked.
Steve wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Billy wanted nothing more than to stall going home or being driven to the police station. Steve shouldn’t give Billy anything. But fuck, he was hungry, and the money his parent’s had left him for groceries was almost depleted. He could use a free meal, hell, he deserved one after saving the whole fucking town. With a bone-weary sigh Steve began driving again, the town center pulling into sight.
“I know the best diner in town,” Steve said, stifling a yawn in his bandana.
“Shouldn’t be hard with a place this small,” Billy replied, but the usual mocking was gone from his tone. Steve almost smiled. Almost. The absurdity of the situation was enough to make him feel a bit hysterical.
“You’re buying me a three coarse meal, Hargrove, hope you know that.” Billy huffed, and it sounded like it could’ve been a laugh.
“Whatever you want, Harrington.”
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The diner was a little outside of the town center, on the other side by the woods, away from Hawkins lab. Paper pumpkins and ghosts were strung up in the wide front facing windows, even though Halloween had passed.
Steve parked in the small lot, and turned off the car with shaking fingers. There were only two other cars in the lot, one police and one truck. That’s the company you get, at five am– that, and one Billy Hargrove. Steve unbuckled and had to use every ounce of strength he had to open the door and roll out. God, he was sore. He hadn’t felt this exhausted in his entire life. It was like he had three hangovers and the flu all at once.
Billy moved like his limbs were lead, heavy footed and loud, and Steve almost snapped at him to shut up but Billy wasn’t even talking and Steve didn’t want another fight. Couldn’t handle another fight.
The sun colored the sky a dusty rose, light enough that Steve could see the bruises forming on Billy’s cheeks and jaw, and light enough that Billy could no doubt see every swell and scratch on Steve.
“Move your feet, I’m starving,” Billy grumbled as he led the way up the path to the diner’s single entrance and Steve followed with legs that didn’t want to move. They entered and it was warm, smelled like coffee and hash browns and Steve sunk into the nearest booth, the red leather cracking under his weight. The only waitress behind the counter took him in with wide eyes and came scurrying over with a pot of coffee and two mugs just as Billy had taken the seat across from Steve.
“You boys look like you’re half dead,” she said and if Steve had any more energy to expend he’d laugh.
Thank god Billy did it for him, or else it really would have looked like he was dying.
“Just a little scuffle, Miss, nothin’ to worry over,” he said with a smile Steve knew was fake, taking the mug from her small hand. She didn’t look convinced, and her eyes darted over to the police officer watching from the counter, newspaper forgotten in his hand.
“Well, don’t look like nothing to me,” the waitress continued and Steve wanted to melt into the leather under him if she didn’t stop talking. “What you boys want?”
“Full breakfast special for me,” Steve said, raising his coffee and taking a much needed sip. “Please and thank you.”
“Same here,” Billy said, nodding his thanks as the waitress scuttled off behind the counter. Steve groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
“This town’s too small,” Billy huffed, taking a large gulp of black coffee, “she’s gonna go blabbing and everyone’s gonna know we got into some kinda fight by noon, huh?”
“That’s how it works,” Steve replied, fighting to keep his eyes opened. “Not helping matters that I’m gonna pass out on the table.”
Billy kicked his shin and Steve glared, kicking back. Billy grinned, wide toothed and all, lounging back in his seat.
“We’ll just do that whenever one of us starts to dose,” he said diplomatically, “then we don’t gotta worry about passing out.”
“I don’t want a bruised shin on top of having a caved in face,” Steve sighed, drinking more coffee and letting it warm him all the way to his toes. Billy nodded, spreading his arms out on the back of the booth and looking out over the town through the wide windows.
They didn’t talk, after that. Just drank their respective coffee’s, ate their food when it arrived, and watched the sun creep higher into the sky. Steve was beginning to feel more like a person rather than a beaten down pulp of himself, and by the way Billy was sitting up straighter so was he.
“So, Harrington,” Billy said, after their eggs had been eaten and bacon long gone, “what the hell was up with that house?” Steve was about to lie, about to say that the kids were playing pretend and he was supervising, but when he looked to Billy he saw the seriousness in his eyes and realized that the guy had walked in on a very sketchy situation involving his little sister and suddenly Steve didn’t have the energy to lie and keep up with it.
Lucas had told Max, obviously these kids weren’t subtle, and if anything like tonight happened again, if for some reason more of the upside down was flipped right side up, Billy could be dragged in through Max. He would also be good muscle; Steve rationalized, if more of those demodogs came back. Steve took a deep breath and settled into the booth, running a hand through his hair and not even wincing at the dirt and grime that had dried there.
“It’s a long story,” he said, and Billy only raised a brow, “so we’re gonna need more coffee.”
“I got all day,” Billy said and waved the waitress down.
Steve was really doing this.
God help him.