Chapter Text
Steve looked up as the door to Scoops jingled, trying hard to plaster his customer service smile back on his face even though it was a quarter to close. That battle was lost the second he saw just who their customer was: Billy fucking Hargrove.
Steve had been wiping down the front counter, a rainbow swirl of sticky ice cream smearing across the Formica surface as his damp rag swished lazily back and forth. He liked getting a headstart on closing procedures so he could get out of here shortly after the mall closed and have a chance in hell at having a social life. (OK, not that he had a huge social life these days, outside of the nerd squad, and his ex and her new boyfriend. Who was he kidding? He was going to go home and eat pizza while watching reruns of The Dick Van Dyke show.) And honestly, there wasn’t exactly a ton of people beating down the doors for ice cream at 8:30 at night anyway. Well… except for super annoying mulleted dickheads apparently.
He cast a glance to his right where Robin was leaned up against the back counter reading some weirdo music magazine that featured bands even Jonathan hadn’t heard of. The red and black cover featured an androgynous figure in a cross between Dandy and Victorian mourning wear, hanging out in a graveyard with the word Propaganda stretched across the top. Morbid , Steve thought. Despite fighting demodogs and other real life horrors, or maybe because of it, the artificial fascination with death and dark things just didn’t quite hold any appeal to him. But it sure seemed to interest his heavily eyelinered coworker.
Before Steve could even utter a word, Robin, without looking up from her magazine, snapped her gum and said, “Uh uh. He’s your problem, Harrington.”
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were in dire pain. And well he was. There was a catastrophic migraine blooming behind his eyes with the force of a category 5 hurricane and its name was Hurricane Billy.
As if on cue, two tanned hands bedecked in silver rings slammed onto the counter with just enough force to make Steve jump back.
“Damn it, Hargrove. What do you want?”
“Heyyyyy, pretty boy,” the younger blonde purred while running his tongue dangerously along his teeth in a parody of seduction. “I just came in looking for something…,” he paused for effect, “sweet.” He shifted his weight, cocking one denim clad hip as he leaned more fully on the counter, placing his chin in his palm. “Think you can help me with that?” He flicked his eyes over to Robin, who was doing her level best to ignore the two boys, before focusing back on Steve, peering up at the older boy from under sinfully long lashes.
Steve gritted his teeth. Hargrove had been making a regular habit out of harassing Steve at work ever since he’d taken the summer job at the ice cream parlor in Starcourt Mall. He’d come in at least once a week to insult Steve while demanding the complimentary samples Scoops guaranteed to customers who were having trouble making up their minds. Steve would be forced to go through a handful of tiny plastic spoons, scraping out sample scoops of rocky road and mint chocolate chip to appease his most indecisive “customer” while said customer made lewd gestures with his tongue around the cold, sticky sweets, only to decide at least 75% of the time that he wasn’t interested in a cone after all. (Steve was pretty sure he only deigned to buy a cone that other 25% of the time so that Steve couldn’t have an excuse to ban him.) It was Steve’s own personal hell.
Tonight Billy had sauntered in wearing tight, dark jeans over black leather boots. The denim clung so tightly that Steve could practically make out the definition of the muscles in Billy’s thighs… and the outline of something obscene. He tried not to think about that particular body part. He’d seen enough of it in the showers - not on purpose! - but there was something about the way it was framed by the worn-in denim that made everything so much worse. Speaking of, tucked into those wickedly tight jeans was a red button-down, whose purpose seemed undervalued as it was unbuttoned nearly down to his navel, showing off the blonde’s smooth, chiseled chest, a silver medallion bouncing gently against his tanned skin as he beelined towards his former teammate. A black leather jacket, warm for the season and clearly just for aesthetic, had topped off the look.
Steve tried to bite back a groan as his nose was assaulted by strong cologne and cheap hairspray. Idly Steve wondered if Billy had a date tonight after his scheduled Steve harassment time. He seemed far too dressed up just to go to the mall and pick on his high school rival. Is that what they were to each other? Steve wasn’t particularly sure anymore. To him, Billy was just a pain in his ass. After the incident at the Byers’ house, and Max’s threats, Billy had stayed true to his word and ceased any sort of threatening actions towards Steve. In fact, Steve had enjoyed a solid couple months of peace where Billy just left him alone, other than forced interactions during basketball or classes. It was pure bliss.
But of course it had been too good to last.
Shortly after winter break, Billy had begun making little comments toward Steve. Mostly just insults about the way Steve was playing that day, or a comment about Steve’s hair. Sometimes he’d simply bump into Steve’s shoulder as he passed him in the hall, with a muttered, “Watch where you’re going, Harrington,” tossed out as an afterthought. None of it was particularly malicious or threatening… in fact, there was something almost friendly about it, though that really didn’t make much sense to Steve. To be honest, it was like some unseen force was continuously drawing Billy to Steve, inexplicable and unending, like a wave lapping at the beach. Each time he drew back, he would only crash harder on the rocky shore in an endless cycle.
Steve didn’t really know what to do about it. It wasn’t such a big deal that he felt it warranted him telling the Party. Things had been relatively stable between Billy and Max… ok, maybe painfully awkward silence would be a better description… but they weren’t fighting really. And Steve didn’t want to be the cause of the end of their ceasefire, especially not over something so petty. Perhaps if Billy had escalated his antagonism Steve would have broached the subject with Max or even Nancy, but he found himself strangely not wanting to get Billy in trouble for these tiny transgressions.
In a weird way, Steve kinda wondered if maybe he’d missed this? Not the part where he nearly got his face caved in while Billy raged like something feral and in pain, snot and tears ruining his perfect image of rage by hinting at a shameful vulnerability lurking just beneath the surface. And not the part where Billy would gang up on Steve with Tommy and the other lunkheads on the team, making Steve feel small and alone as he realized just how little his friendship had meant to the other boys. No, what Steve missed, as odd as it might sound, was their frequent pissing match that tested Steve’s wit and lit a fire within his gut. There was something appealing to having a verbal sparring partner that could match Steve tit for tat. Whenever he got a good dig in, Steve would feel invigorated, like something sharp and clear had broken through the inescapable drudgery of his small town life because one thing Billy Hargrove wasn’t was boring.
Steve checked back into the conversation just as he noted that Billy appeared to be wearing eyeliner, or perhaps mascara?, smudged subtly around his eyes, though not nearly as thick as Robin liked to wear hers. So, there was a date then. Just Steve’s luck that Billy would literally schedule time in his evening to stop by, as if pestering Steve was as equally if not more important than whoever Billy’s flavor of the week was at the moment.
“Just tell me what you want, Hargrove. We’re closing in fifteen.” Steve threw the rag on the back counter with a wet plop before wiping his hand dry on his scandalously short uniform, the synthetic fabric barely absorbing the moisture. He found his other hand was already running through his hair impatiently, unable to control the nervous tick around his frustratingly annoying former classmate.
“Hmmm…” Billy hummed while pretending to look thoughtful. “That doesn’t seem like the proper Scoops Ahoy! Attitude, Stevie. Where’s my customer service with a smile?” The blonde’s eyes fluttered droopily as he flicked his tongue out to moisten his lips.
Steve stuck his hands on his hips in his most put-upon mom pose and stared down his nose at the other teen. “C’mon, man. I want to close up. Are you actually going to buy something tonight or just dick around?”
Billy rolled his eyes in amusement before straightening up. He took a moment to raise his arms above his head and stretch, a soft pop echoing as he cracked his back. “Mmm… I think I’m having a hard time deciding what flavor I want tonight.” He grinned at the obvious annoyance Steve failed at keeping off his face. “Maybe you could get me a sample of…” he leaned over to peer in the case before squaring up again, “strawberry?”
Steve flicked an imploring look over at Robin who was still studiously ignoring both boys before huffing out an exaggeratedly loud sigh while he dug his fingers in the metal canister for a handful of sample spoons. Because he knew that realistically Billy would not be satisfied by merely one. Steve walked around Robin’s outstretched Docs to get to the strawberry canister on the far end of the freezer. As he busied himself gathering the sample, Billy’s attention turned towards his coworker.
“Hey Robin, whatcha reading?” Billy leered towards the brunette.
Robin smacked her gum again as she slowly turned to the next page, her gaze never leaving the glossy pages of the magazine. “Sorry, it’s above your reading level.”
Billy mimicked placing his hands on his heart as he tilted his head back in mock pain. “You wound me, sweetheart.”
Before Billy could get another word in, Steve shoved the sample spoon at him, teeth gritted. “Here. Strawberry.” There was a steely look in Steve’s normally puppy dog brown eyes that communicated he wasn’t going to deal with any more BS directed his coworker’s way.
It was bad enough that Billy had to bother him on a regular basis, but he felt an awkward guilt at having to subject Robin, someone completely outside of their high school clique or the Party, to this sort of nonsense. Robin, to her credit, seemed nonplussed by the entire interaction, but Steve didn’t want to risk falling out of her good graces. She was one of the few people his age that he could actually talk to these days and have an emotionally intelligent conversation with. Tommy didn’t count.
Although Steve had managed to get back on neutral footing with Tommy and Carol by graduation, it wasn’t really the same. As the school year had drawn to a close, the seniors were overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia and a certain trepidation for what the future held. They would all be going their separate ways soon, dispersing across the country to new schools, new experiences, new lives. This might be the last time they all saw each other… at least until a reunion probably only a quarter of them would attend. With emotions running high, many of the students had chosen to mend fences with former friends and even form fledgling bonds with those they’d only ever spoken to intermittently. House parties that summer contained an eclectic mix of people who normally wouldn’t have hung out as everyone was so desperate to cling to what they had left of the familiar experience of high school before venturing out into the unknown adult world in the autumn.
Tommy had been quick to take advantage of the wave of nostalgia permeating the senior class and practically begged Steve to give their friendship another chance. And truthfully there had been enough sincerity in Tommy’s eyes that Steve couldn’t deny him. Despite how far their paths had drifted, despite what an asshole Tommy (and Carol) could be, Steve had been suckered in by sentimentality, not wanting to end high school without his oldest friend.
But that didn’t mean they were close the way they had been. Steve wasn’t sure that was even possible anymore. Not after what he’d seen, what he’d experienced. He couldn’t talk to Tommy about the things that kept him awake on quiet nights while the rest of his neighborhood slumbered. And not just because he was contractually obligated not to speak of them by a shady government organization. Tommy really didn’t have the mental capacity or the desire to speak deeply of the existential nightmare that tore at the edges of Steve’s consciousness whenever he let his mind drift a little too far. Robin, though, with her weird music and thick books on everything from philosophy to gothic romance, was a far better sport about it.
Steve didn’t want to risk losing their still nascent connection which was why he was already gathering Billy’s usual picks on the flimsy pink plastic spoons to keep the asshole’s mouth too occupied to annoy Robin further. Billy, all too predictably, was swirling the spoon around his tongue in a gesture was totally obscene, even though Steve couldn’t really explain why.
“Hey Rob-” he began before Steve cut him off with a gruff, “Here,” and shoved three more spoons in Billy’s face.
Billy chewed on his thumbnail absently as he eyeballed the ice cream being presented to him. He noticed the way Steve’s hands gripped the tiny spoons so hard that his knuckles had gone white and the tendons in his forearms popped to the surface. He smirked in delight at how easily he had already gotten under Steve’s skin for the evening.
He selected the spoon containing a glob of pastel green with dark chocolate chips and tugged it from Steve’s iron grip. Sparkling blue eyes met irritated brown as he popped the spoon in his mouth while dropping the used one on the counter, ignoring the tiny trash bin next to the register for just such purposes.
“Mmm… it’s such a… hard decision tonight,” Billy forced the double entendre into existence with embarrassing bluntness. A sure sign that he was fucking with Steve rather than flirting with Robin or some other girl. He punctuated his lament with a flirtatious wink, you know, in case Steve was truly oblivious.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose again while insistently holding out the other two spoons with the opposite hand.
“Maybe you could, uh, help me make a decision. Eh, Stevie? Whaddya think?” Billy snatched the other two spoons and licked them clean. He saved the last spoon to run his tongue over suggestively while waiting for Steve’s response.
“What I think,” Steve bit out, one hand on his hip, “is tick tock . We’re closing in five minutes so pick something or leave.”
There was something like genuine disappointment that seemed to flash across the younger boy’s face at the realization that their allotted bantering time was soon coming to a close. But it was so fast that if Steve had blinked he may have missed it. Billy schooled his features back into flirtatious and suave before his gaze trailed away from Steve and back onto Robin. “That’s alright,” he spoke languidly, as if Steve hadn’t just imposed a time limit on their interaction, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for ice cream tonight. I really just came to see if Robin would like to go out after work.”
Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“How about it, sweetheart? Got any plans after close? I could show you a real good time.”
God , Steve thought, how much cornier could Hargrove get ? Billy had never seemed to be lacking a girl on his arm the entire time school year, but Steve hadn’t ever really paid that close of attention as to how Billy kept landing date after date. It couldn’t possibly be with lines this lame, could it? Or maybe if you exuded enough confidence and sprayed enough cloying cologne under your practically painted on clothes, you could say just about anything and still score with the hottest girls in Hawkins?
Robin actually deigned to look up from her magazine this time. A strand of chin length wavy hair had fallen across her hazel eyes and she tucked it behind her ear with efficiency. She made a show of looking Billy up and down slowly as she closed her magazine and set it on the counter behind her. She tapped a chipped black nail against her dark red stained lips once, twice, three times before she finished taking measure of the teen boy on the other side of the counter.
“No,” she stated bluntly, “I’m not what you want.”
Steve turned his head to look at her in confusion as he tried to puzzle out what she meant by her response. Whatever it was, Billy seemed to get it. With a rueful grin, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his skintight jeans (how he managed to, Steve couldn’t tell you.) and began to back away toward the exit.
“Your loss,” he shrugged, then added, “Night, princess.” He gave Steve one last wink before turning and walking out the door.
Robin, to her credit, looked unperturbed as she grabbed the keys to lock up the entrance. As she pushed past Steve to get around the counter, she ever so casually tossed out, “So why aren’t you two boning?”
Steve spluttered, eyes going wide and hands gesturing erratically as he tried to process and formulate a response. “Wha-what? No. NO. Why ?” was all he managed to get out.
Robin paused about midway through the sea of tables and turned to look at Steve. “Dude. He’s got it bad for you.”