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Billy didn’t like kids. He never had. They were loud and messy and they asked way too many questions. But since Billy had decided it was a great idea to start dating Steve Harrington, pretty boy prep and babysitter extraordinaire, it meant that he had to spend a ridiculous amount of time with the nerd squad (aka, his sister and all her weird ass friends).
“I just don’t understand how they can still be hungry. They ate like an hour ago,” Billy grumbled as he puttered around Steve’s too big kitchen, pouring chips into bowls and mixing up another bowl of french onion dip since the kids were all obsessed with it.
“Welcome to fatherhood,” Steve joked, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Billy sighed. That’s right. They were fighting. He’d almost forgotten, what with all the kids in the living room, exchanging gifts and debating comic book theories, distracting him from the problem at hand.
It was especially tough because Billy knew he was the one in the wrong. He was one hundred percent the asshole in this situation. It’s not like he had upset Steve on purpose, but he hadn’t apologized yet either.
“Look, Harrington-
Steve shook his head, grabbing the chips and dip from off the counter.
“I better get these out there before they come looking,” he said.
In the past, Billy might have let Steve walk out of the room. Hell, he might have stormed out of the house, car keys in hand, ready to drive away not just from Steve, but stupid fucking Hawkins, Indiana. But not anymore. No, now that Billy had Steve, he wasn’t going to let him go.
In one swift move, Billy took the bowls from Steve’s hand and set them safely on the counter. The vultures in the living room could wait.
“I’m sorry,” Billy blurted with absolutely zero finesse.
Steve sighed, shaking his head.
“I know you’re sorry. And I totally get where you were coming from, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt okay?” Steve said, crossing his arms self consciously over his chest.
Billy hesitantly reached out, curling his fingers around Steve’s hip, trying to keep himself grounded while he figured out the right words.
“Look, I meant it when I said I didn’t want to celebrate Christmas. And it’s not because I don’t, um, care about you. It’s because…Christmas has never been a happy time for me. Not since I was a kid. Not since my mom,” Billy explained, voice thick with emotion.
Steve’s eyes widened. Billy didn’t like to talk about his mom. Not that Steve was one to pry, but he wished Billy would talk about her more.
“Last Christmas, my Dad woke me up early, before Max and Susan were awake. Made me go into the living room with him. I knew something was wrong when I saw he had a fire going cause we never use that stupid fire place,” Billy said, huffing a laugh. “He pulled out a photo album. The one I kept after my Mom died. I don’t even know how he found it cause I kept it hidden. But he, um, he made me throw it in the fire.”
Steve slid his hand down to cover Billy’s, lacing their fingers together and giving his boyfriend’s hand an encouraging squeeze.
“So, yeah, Christmas and I don’t really get along, but I know that Christmas means a lot to you and I should have respected that and…It’s Christmas…Please don’t be mad at me,” Billy pleaded, aware that he sounded mildly pathetic.
But Steve just pulled him into his arms, tucking his face into Billy’s neck and holding him tight.
“You mean a lot to me,” Steve said simply. “And I appreciate that you were cool with me having the kids over and after they leave, if you want, we can take down all the decorations and pretend it’s just another day. Okay?”
Billy stared at his boyfriend, swallowing the lump in his throat. No one had cared that much about him since his Mom. And maybe Max. But the way Steve was looking at him, made Billy forget all the shitty Christmases he’d ever had.
And later, when the kids hooted and hollered that Billy and Steve were caught under the mistletoe, he decided that some Christmas traditions he was definitely on board with.