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Jim was halfway home when he saw it.
Harrington’s car, pulled haphazardly off into the trees at the side of the road, black streaks of rubber trailing behind.
Shit.
Shitshitshitshit.
Jim hit the brakes, fumbling off his seatbelt as he grabbed for his torch.
Steve was a good kid. Kind of a shithead, but what teenager wasn’t?
Jim swore, if he was about to find that kid’s body in the goddamned woods, mauled by a fucking monster or something...
He was going to get a goddamned drink after, that’s what.
Dive into the bottom of a bottle and stay there until morning.
But, no. It looked like Steve was still in the car, moving around a little, one arm coming up to grip the headrest of his seat, and.
Oh.
Ugh.
Fucking gross.
There was a blonde head bobbing in his lap, some dumb little teenybopper out to make her daddy angry.
Well, since he was here, might as well ruin Steve’s day.
The little shit had earned it, scaring Jim like that.
Time to teach him a lesson on public indecency before he got his dumb ass arrested.
Jim kept his back to the car, reaching down with his torch to tap hard on the window, smirking at the flurry of curses and flailing limbs within.
“Get the hell out here, Steve. We need to have a little conversation.”
He gave them a minute before backing away from the door and turning around, watching Steve’s door open a few inches before slamming shut again, quarreling voices within.
Jim rolled his eyes, hands on his utility belt.
“You’ve already been caught, kid. Just get out of the damn car already.”
There was no way Jim was sticking his head in that window to do this, getting a face full of teen boy and sex.
He felt his double bacon cheeseburger rebel in his stomach at the thought.
So. Fucking. Gross.
The passenger door opened, Jim watching in shock as the blonde hopped out and walked around the car.
In no small part because the blonde was a boy.
Billy Hargrove, known down at the station for reckless driving.
Steve tried to open his door again but Billy leaned against it, shoving it closed with his boot, face twisted in a nasty snarl.
“I said, stay in the fucking car, Harrington!”
Billy looked Jim up and down, taking his measure with sharp eyes.
His lips were red and wet and Jim was seriously going to lose that cheeseburger.
Billy jutted his chin, watching Jim like they were about to arm wrestle or something.
“Where’re we gonna do this, Officer? In your car or out in the woods?”
Did the kid honestly think Jim was going to fight him?
He called out, meeting Steve’s sheepish eyes through the, ugh, gross, foggy window.
“Get out here, Steve!”
Billy kicked the door closed again with a growl at Harrington before advancing on Jim, five feet nine inches of pure bravado.
Jim felt like he was being attacked by a rabid terrier. He feared for his ankles.
Billy poked a finger at his chest, pulling back at the last second before he made contact, eyes hard. He had the saddest little blonde baby mustache that Jim had ever seen, twitching over the sneer of his lips.
“No. He’s going to stay in the car. You don’t get to-You can’t have him. You’ve got me.”
Jim rolled his eyes, holding his hands out at his sides, already completely over this whole thing. He had better shit to do than get yelled at by Steve’s...whatever the fuck he was.
“I’m not gonna take him in, kid. I just wanna talk.”
Billy nodded like he had expected that, stepping toe to toe with Jim in a move obviously intended to herd him away from the car, spine straight like he just hadn’t noticed that Jim had over half a foot of height on him.
The kid had guts, Jim could give him that.
Steve’s door opened again, one white-sneakered foot hitting the ground, voice squeaky with embarrassment.
“Billy, it’s fine, just-”
Billy rounded on the car, fist raised and teeth bared like a wild animal.
“You step one foot out here and you are dead meat, Harrington! Don’t fucking test me.”
Steve’s door closed quietly, the little chicken shit leaving Jim to deal with his...
Boyfriend? Was that a thing, now? It was the 80s, after all.
Jim was a hip dude. He was with it. Keeping up with the times.
Hadn’t Steve been chasing after that skinny little Wheeler girl, though?
Fuck. Jim didn’t know how this shit worked.
Kids were so weird these days.
Billy’s face did something really strange. All pouty lips and heavy eyelids and.
Oh.
Yikes.
Nope. Nopenopenope. Hell no.
Jim stumbled back when Billy trailed a finger down over his gut, eyes still sharp under those fluttering lashes. Voice forged from steel under the throaty velvet of cheap seduction.
“Where did you want to have that talk, Officer?”
Jim tried to give Steve a pleading look, but the dumbass was busy beating his head against his steering wheel, talking to himself with broad, clumsy hand gestures.
Billy hooked that finger behind Jim’s belt buckle, sending him a foot off the ground as he practically levitated to get away from him, sputtering with one hand held out between them, the other holding his hat to his head.
Hell. No.
“Whoa. Look, kid. I’m, uh. Flattered? But I really don’t swing that way.”
Billy nodded sympathetically, stalking forward after Jim’s less than elegant retreat.
“Of course you don’t, sir. I get it. You’re just looking to put me in my place.”
What?
What the hell was he talking about?
The only place Jim wanted to put Billy Hargrove was far away from him, maybe back in Steve’s car while he hauled Steve out by his ear for making him deal with this shit.
Billy kept advancing, leading them further from Steve’s car, back toward Jim’s.
Jim backed away with his hands up like he was the one stopped by a police officer, reeling with confusion.
Billy shot a glance at the BMW where Steve was watching them with big baby deer eyes before turning back with a determined expression, squaring his shoulders.
The kid looked like he was braced for a hit, like he expected Jim to come up swinging any second now.
Billy jerked his head toward Jim’s car, jaw so tense Jim could see the muscle rolling beneath his skin.
“Let’s take this around your car at least. I don’t want him to see.”
Maybe Jim Hopper was a small town cop, maybe he hadn’t had much in the way of wide and varied experiences.
With the notable exception of certain recent, apocalyptic events.
But, he wasn’t an idiot.
Jim was starting to get the picture, and it was an awful, ugly picture. He’d like to give that picture back, thanks.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember if he had any antacids in his glovebox.
“Listen, kid. I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but I’m just going to go talk to Steve and get this shitshow over with.”
Billy put a firm hand on his chest, face tight and eyes burning as he hissed up at Jim’s face between clenched teeth.
“Let’s cut the bullshit. This isn’t exactly my first time being caught in a compromising position by an officer of the law. I know what you want and I’m going to be the one to give it to you. Not Steve.”
Well, fuck.
That was an ugly fucking picture.
Jim wanted names and badge numbers and heads on a goddamned platter because, shit.
He was just a kid.
Jim had seen his license. Only a couple of years older than El. Younger than Steve, even.
Jim was going to be sick, stomach rolling at the thought of it.
Acid rose in his throat like a threat, burning a cough into his fist as he shook his head.
“Listen, kid. Billy. I’m really not-”
Billy’s eyes were wild, the whites showing all around as he flashed his teeth, every inch of him puffed up in a display of domination so transparent that it was a little bit sad. He reminded Jim of a cornered animal, all bristling fur and too-small claws.
“You’re not going to touch him. I’ll do whatever kind of shit you want. But, just,” his eyes flickered, towards the BMW right back to Jim, an edge of pleading written there that Jim absolutely did not want to see, “ just not in front of him, alright? Steve’s not like me. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t understand the way the world works yet. And I’m going to keep it that way. So, where do you want me? On my knees in the bushes or facedown in your car? You can make it hurt if you want, I can take it. I’m good at that shit.”
The kid talked a big game, but he was shivering, half dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and torn jeans in the Indiana fall.
He looked so young Jim wanted to burn something to the ground.
Panic shot across his face when Jim turned his head to look at Steve through the window again, cold fingers going for his belt buckle and Jim had finally had enough.
He stalked back to the BMW, Billy hot on his heels, shouting over his shoulder.
“Go, Harrington! Fucking drive!”
Jim yanked the driver’s side door open and Billy made a sound like he had been hit, grabbing Jim hard by the wrist while Steve climbed dejectedly out of the car.
His voice cracked and Jim felt it like a stab in the gut.
“Don’t. Please, sir. I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good.”
It was the sir that made Jim’s cheeseburger climb up his throat, belching another bubble of acid into his fist.
Christ.
Steve stood next to his car, eyes down and hands in his pockets. He was glowing redder than a stoplight, ears practically steaming.
Good.
The little shit deserved some embarrassment after what he’d just put Jim through.
“Hey, Hop.”
Billy edged himself between them like he thought Jim was going to haul off and hit Steve, eyes tracking Jim’s every movement.
Which, frankly, was about the least terrible thing Billy seemed to think Jim was going to do tonight.
Jim sighed, rubbing his hand over his mouth while he rested the other on his holster and Billy went white as a sheet, arm flying out to shove Steve back behind himself.
Jim moved his hand slowly and carefully away from his gun, giving Steve a hard look once he finally plucked up the guts to meet his eyes, still red right up to his ridiculous hairline.
“Harrington. Do I need to spell out for you all the reasons why this was a terrible fucking idea?”
Steve shook his head, lips flattening but not looking away, meeting Jim’s gaze head-on.
The kid had a spine of steel on him, which was why Jim liked him.
That, and he was a damned reliable babysitter.
“If anyone else had caught you, you’d be down at the station waiting on your parents.”
Billy reacted worse to that than he had to the gun, hands visibly shaking before he tucked them under his arms.
Jim was going to need to take a closer look, there.
Shit.
He should’ve just kept fucking driving. These kids were going to kill him before the monsters did.
Steve sighed, kicking the dirt.
“Yeah, I know, Hop. I’m sorry. I guess we just kinda got carried away?”
He said it like it was a question, words lilting up at the end.
Jim huffed, pointing his finger in Steve’s face and lowering his eyebrows in a look he used to make sure El knew he really meant something.
“Listen, kid, I don’t care how you get your rocks off, but you need to keep it behind closed doors. No more cars on the side of the road. And definitely,” here he looked at Billy, who he was now certain was primarily responsible for this little stunt, “definitely not while anyone is driving. You’re gonna get your dick bitten off, kid.”
Steve winced, bringing his knee halfway up protectively in a move every guy knew by heart.
“You got it?”
Steve nodded, face open and sincere, genuinely contrite. Billy looked like he’d bitten into a lemon, eyes darting between Jim and Steve.
“Yeah, I got it. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
Jim gave him one last, hard glare before huffing out a breath through his nose.
“You bet your scrawny ass it won’t. Now get out of my sight. Go home. It’s a school night, for chrissake. And, Steve?”
Steve’s eyes sharpened at his tone, locking with Jim’s in silent communication while Billy looked on with blatant confusion.
“Stay out of the fucking woods.”
Steve nodded, once, sharply, and Jim finally turned away to retreat back to the sanctuary of his car.
The stale smell of cheeseburger hit him like a fist to the jaw, but he would take that over one more second with Billy.
Jesus Christ on a cracker, that kid.
Jim unwrapped a rolaid, watching in his rearview mirror as Steve lifted his hand to Billy’s face only to have it slapped away.
He tried again, and then a third time and Billy collapsed against him like a crumpled napkin, clinging to Steve’s preppy little jacket.
Jim drove off, chewing violently, consumed with the reminder that even though he spent half his time fighting literal demon monsters from hell, there were still worse things in the world, right under his fucking nose.