Work Text:
Wine is always a bad idea.
Steve knew that. It was one of the absolute certainties in his life. Steve+wine=BAD. He lost his brain to mouth filter, spouted all manner of things that he shouldn’t, and usually the night ended with him crying until someone had the decency to put him to bed. So he really should have known better when Nancy and Jonathan showed up to hang out, without the rest of the kids for once, and Nancy broke out a bottle of wine that she stole from her mother.
It wasn’t often that they got to hang out like this and it was kind of fun to just be a bunch of stupid teenagers, get a little tipsy, and talk shit about their teachers and classmates and how fucked up their lives had gotten over the last two years.
That being said, by the third glass of wine, Steve knew he had made a mistake.
“He’s…he’s just so pretty,” Steve said, voice thick with emotion like he was going to cry.
“Who is?” Jonathan asked.
“Billy,” Steve said, grinning as he said the other boy’s name.
“Ugh, really Steve? If you ask me, you can do better,” Nancy said, looking a little pink in the cheeks herself, like she always was when she had a little too much to drink.
“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Steve grumbled.
Nancy glared at him.
“There’s no need to be-
“Okay, okay,” Jonathan said, cutting her off before a real argument actually broke up. He hadn’t had nearly as much as they had and he knew, from experience, that no one came out a winner than Steve and Nancy drunk debated.
“M’sorry, Nance. He’s just, so pretty. Like, so so pretty. But he doesn’t like me, so you don’t have to worry,” Steve said miserably, sniffling as tears started sliding down his cheeks.
Jonathan sighed, hooking his arms under Steve’s armpits and pulling him to his feet.
“Okay big guy, I think it’s time for bed. Nance and I are gonna crash here if that’s cool cause I don’t think I should drive so, if you need anything, I’ll be down the hall,” Jonathan told him, settling Steve into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. “Try not to puke.”
Steve honestly didn’t remember the rest. He’d assumed he’d fallen asleep after that, but as he rolled over and found himself face to face with a sleeping Billy Hargrove, he figured the night hadn’t ended there. What the fuck was Billy doing in his room? In his bed?
Steve tried to think, but his head was pounding and his mouth was dry and he was dizzy so thinking was kind of off the table.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Billy grumbled, eyes still closed and voice heavy with sleep.
“How drunk was I?” Steve mumbled, mostly to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing his headache to go away.
Billy sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sighing.
“Allow me to fill you in, Princess. I showed up here in the middle of the night cause you called me and told me, um…you told me I was the prettiest boy in the world. Asked me to come over and uh…” Billy trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Steve wanted to die. He begged the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“Nothing happened, obviously,” Billy said quickly. “I could tell you were wasted over the phone and I just wanted to make sure you didn’t like, puke in your sleep and suffocate of some shit. But I guess Byers and Wheeler could have dealt with that. Should I go? I should go,” Billy said, hurriedly trying to get to his feet.
Steve caught Billy’s arm.
“I meant it. W-what I said. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have put it that way if I had been sober, but I do think you’re…the prettiest boy in the world,” Steve admitted, biting his bottom lip.
Billy relaxed, smiling softly as he laid back down, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.
“Got a headache, pretty boy?” he asked, knowingly.
Steve groaned, nodding and arching into Billy’s touch.
“Sleep,” Billy said, kissing Steve’s forehead softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Steve had never slept better in his life.