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Billy comes to Family Video four times before Steve realizes he’s not even renting anything.
It’s just, like—the first time was a bit of a shock. He didn’t necessarily focus too much on the weird small talk that they’re apparently close enough to do now: Hey, Harrington, then something about how the weather was getting easier again after the unrelenting summer, and then how apparently there’s a sequel to Nightmare on Elm Street coming out, so he should put up one of those Freddy Krueger cutouts. Scare some kids with it.
He wants to ask where Max is, because she’s the one who comes bursting inside after a visit to the arcade to pick up movies for the both of them, but he can’t even get it out because he’s leaving.
And, like, yeah, whatever, it was weird. Weird things happen to him all the time, and he’s definitely been through weirder, so.
He just shrugs it off and helps the next customer with her late returns.
The second time it happened, it was empty save for an older couple near the romance section, bickering about what movie they should pick. Damn it, Jim, we’ve already seen that one.
He was laughing to himself about the argument, under his breath, but the noise caught in his throat when Billy walked in.
Because there was a cigarette tucked neatly behind his ear and he was wearing this Metallica shirt that showed his arms and a bit of his chest thanks to a rip in the collar, and Steve.
It’s not like Steve hadn’t realized Billy was attractive. He had done that a long, long time ago, when he was called pretty in the showers after basketball practice. It was just—different. Billy comes alive in the sunshine, gets all tan and freckled and happier, and he just walked in looking like all of that and made a beeline towards the counter again, not even bothering to look at the 5 movies you should bring home to the family display him and Robin worked on earlier.
Steve had stood up a little straighter, because apparently this was a thing now, and at least he was a little more prepared for it this time. He might’ve ogled at him a little bit but he’s fine, okay, he really is.
There was another hey, Harrington, and then he started to go off about Max being a pain in the ass because she takes all the quarters in his Camaro without him even realizing. Steve relaxed throughout his little monologue, because maybe he was just trying to kill some time while Max was in the arcade. He can be cool. He can joke.
So he talked about Dustin’s quarter theft and Billy had laughed and then they were talking about the kids like they were some divorced coparents meeting up in a grocery store parking lot.
He had to pause quite a few times to ring up some customers, but Billy just waited, leaned against the counter and messed with the candies on display.
When they were alone again, Billy said that Steve should start recommending him a movie every time he comes in, just so he can judge his shitty taste. It’s an easy thing to agree to, because every time I come in sounds like it’s going to happen more often, and.
Steve wanted that. He really did.
But then Robin kicked open the back storage room door and Billy had made a weird face, made an excuse to leave. Max could want to leave early, he had said, even though Max would get arrested just to beat her high score after hours.
Weird. But he’s been through weirder.
He—maybe starts to look forward to it, after that. Kind of looks forward to Billy coming in, and it’s not his fault, really, because he only has one other friend his own age, and Robin’s too caught up in a new crush to talk about anything else these days. Vickie this, Vickie that, she said something so funny during band practice and our senses of humor are just so similar…
He tries not to deliberate too much about how he’s thinking about Billy as much as Robin’s thinking about her girl.
It doesn’t take long for the third visit, only a couple of days, not that Steve was keeping track or anything. Billy walked in again, this loose black tank with some band he’s never heard of on the chest, and Steve—well, his mind kind of fizzled out because Billy’s got his hair up today, all pretty and loose, a single strand hanging from his forehead and resting in front of one eye.
It was one of those bright days towards the end of August, so bright it makes Billy’s eyes look fucking insane. Like, seriously, they looked like the goddamn ocean.
So, maybe he was a little distracted that time.
They talked about absolutely nothing for around ten minutes. Billy had seen a copy of Risky Business and laughed, brought up Steve’s costume at that one Halloween party at Tina’s, and.
Steve can almost fucking smell the beer that was hot and sticky on Billy’s bare chest.
Robin came out from the back again during that story, arms full of tapes that needed to be returned to their rightful shelves, and Billy excused himself.
Again.
So it’s the fourth visit. Steve’s never been good with details, okay? Never has been. His teachers always said the same thing over and over, he gets it. He needs to pay closer attention to the prompt, or the word problem, or the assigned novel, but to be fair, Billy’s really fucking good at being distracting. He just—he looks like that at all times, and sometimes when the AC blows a particularly strong gust into the store, Steve gets a whiff of that cologne he wears.
He’s just a lot, okay? It’s not his fault.
He gets there, though. Shakes himself out of it. Because Billy unsticks his white muscle tee from his chest after he talks about how he’s finally free this weekend and says something about how Max has been begging him to see this new horror film, but he’s been debating because it looks really shitty and cheap and he can finally go out to a party instead of carting her around, and then a customer drops down a copy of Grease in the basket, and.
Cue lightbulb moment.
“Hey, you—you never leave with anything.”
Billy raises his eyebrows. Shifts on his feet a little. Doesn’t even say anything snarky about how he was in the middle of a sentence, Harrington, thank you very much. “What do you mean?”
“Any tapes? You never rent any. I know you like movies, so.”
“Oh,” Billy says, a little slowly, and—and there must be something wrong with Steve’s eyes because it looks like there’s an emerging smudge of pink that begins to stain his cheeks, making those freckles on the bridge of his nose nearly disappear with it. “I mean, Max gets our stuff.”
“Yeah, exactly. You don’t.”
Billy looks a little bit like he’s about to run away, but Steve can see the exact moment he forces his face into something more amused. His eyes light up, his mouth quirks. “Just killing some time.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s,” Steve says, scans the barcode on the back of the VHS and stacks it up in the pile behind him. “That’s cool.”
Only two customers interrupt their conversation this time.
Billy leans against the counter and always seems to trace his fingers over the Milk Duds packages when it happens, and Steve only stumbles a little over his words because he’s nervous. He can feel Billy looking at him, even when he’s just parroting off the same rental rules the customers have heard a thousand times.
He leaves after Robin comes back from organizing displays and shelves. It’s always, always the same. Robin makes herself known, he’s excusing himself and heading back out to his Camaro.
And, like, now that he’s thinking about it, he’s pretty sure it’s against policy to distract the guy at the cash register for fifteen minutes before leaving without so much as a bag of Twizzlers. Keith would fire him and make sure every other place of employment knows how lousy of an employee he is, if he ever saw.
He doesn’t get paid enough to care, though. If Billy wants to waste his time leaning into his space and talking about nothing and everything while he’s bored out of his mind, he sure is welcome to do so.
He’s not complaining. Because a year ago they were beating the shit out of each other and a few months back there were genuine apologies made. It was radio silence for a while.
And then this.
“What’d he talk about this time,” Robin says, checking over his pile of returns. Alphabetical order, check. “You look incredibly confused.”
Steve refrains from groaning out loud and doesn’t look back at her. Doesn’t want to see her stupid sparkly eyes or the weird, knowing smile she’s always got plastered on. “He just—he doesn’t rent anything. I didn’t notice that until today, which is probably bad, because someone could’ve stolen a whole rack of candy while he was distracting me, but. He just talks to me. The whole time.”
“Ah,” Robin says, flat. “Tell me more.”
“I mean—it’s not like he can’t afford a membership. Max gets their movies, they share one. I just don’t get it, because he says he’s just killing time, whatever that means, but Max is at the Wheeler’s today. I know that because I dropped Dustin off this morning, so. He doesn’t have to wait for her.”
“Oh, young one,” she rasps, and a copy of Weird Science slides up next to him. He rolls his eyes and puts it at the bottom, next to Willy Wonka. “I don’t think he comes here for the movies.”
Steve just hums. Nearly reaches over and grabs a Snickers bar just to have something to do. “Why, then? He talks about them a lot. Said he wanted to see this new horror one with Max and something else with Tom Cruise.”
Robin chokes a little on a laugh. “Tom Cruise. Right. Anyway, you never told me what you two talked about today.”
Steve shrugs and looks back at her this time. She raises her eyebrows. “That he was free this weekend. Max wanted to see said horror movie but he’s not sure, because he doesn’t want to cart her around.”
“Interesting,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should invite him out, then. Take him to the movies, or something. Since he’s always talking about them.”
And it’s not like it’s a bad idea. It’s just—they’ve never hung out before, not alone, just the two of them, and the thought of it makes Steve’s skin prickle. Makes his heart feel a little out of sorts. Which—that’s new. That hasn’t happened since Nancy.
Christ.
“I mean, uh. Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Think about it. We can’t spend every weekend together, you know.”
“Whatever. Like you have anyone else to hang out with.”
Robin laughs and shoves at him. She mutters a quick, “Asshole,” as she heads back for another box of VHS.
Billy comes back the next day.
He never does that. There’s always a day or two or three between the visits, so Steve wasn’t at all prepared for him to walk in with a pack of smokes sticking from the pocket of his denim jacket.
He looks good. He always looks good, but there’s something about Billy Hargrove in his worn out denim jacket that does something crazy to him.
Thank God it’s a Wednesday evening, because it’s not usually busy, and, well. Maybe Steve doesn’t want to get interrupted.
“Harrington,” Billy says, low, and his damn hair flows a little when the cool air of the store blows down on him. Like a model, or something. “Been a while.”
“Yeah, twenty-four hours is a long time, man.”
Billy snorts. Puts his arm on the counter like he owns the place. Leans in closer. The cologne hits Steve again, and he tries his hardest not to say something stupid like, hey, man, you smell good. It’s weird I never noticed that before. “I was robbed of my quarters again.”
“Yeah, yeah, like you don’t just give up some quarters when she asks,” Steve teases, because, “I always keep some in my pocket for Dustin, now. God, and Lucas, that kid goes through them like nobody’s business.”
Billy’s eyes light up. He smiles, something soft, and plays around with the lighter in his hands. Steve doesn’t even know when he managed to fish the thing out, he’s been so distracted by his whole—you know, voice, cologne, everything. Normal things to get distracted over. “Why do you like that kid so much? Dustin?”
Steve blows out a breath. “The truth?”
“Obviously.”
“I’m an only child. My parents aren’t around a whole lot, not even when I was younger. He’s like—I don’t know. The annoying little brother I’ve always wanted.”
The smile on Billy’s face softens even more and Steve’s stomach lurches at the sight of it. He feels a little bit like his cheeks are on fire, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the dorky admission or the look that’s currently being directed at him. “That’s sweet.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious, man,” Billy says, and he’s laughing so soft. “I mean, you tell her this and I’ll beat your ass and deny it, but Max is—she’s done a lot for me. It’s nice, having someone in your corner, you know? Even if it’s an annoying shit of a younger sibling. I get it.”
It’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard come out of Billy’s mouth. He can feel himself smiling, feels a little bit like he’s melting, knowing this new side of him, so he leans closer, the wood of the counter cold against his forearm. “Aw. You do have feelings.”
Billy rolls his eyes, but his cheeks—they’re pink again. Steve eyes catch on them for a little too long, but he can’t just—look away. No way. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” Steve mocks, making his voice a little deeper, and laughs when Billy reaches over the counter to flick him in the shoulder.
“Don’t fuckin’ sound like that,” he grumbles, cheeks still that pretty pink, and Steve—well, he’s certainly fucked, isn’t he? This is a full on crush. He’s starting to sound like Robin in his own head: Billy said something so funny and we get along so well, isn’t that a trip? And his laugh…
“Oh, St-e-eve,” Robin calls, coming back from where she was taking inventory, effectively shutting his brain up for a second. It’s like he manifested her, or something. She can probably read his thoughts, honestly, he wouldn’t be all that surprised. “I sure hope you’re not standing around doing nothing.”
“I’m doing something—”
“Oh. Look who’s back.”
Billy raises his eyebrows. Leans away. Steve immediately misses the warmth that’s coming off of him in waves, like he’s the sun. “I should get going. Don’t wanna keep you.”
Steve wants to say, oh, no, you don’t have to go, but, like, that would be weird, right? Because Billy’s not buying anything, not even looking around, but then. Keith’s not here to get pissed off, and there aren’t any customers, anyway.
So. Whatever. He doesn’t want him to go.
“Yeah,” he says, instead, because it’s easier to just go along with him. “I’ll see you later.”
Later turns out to be at the diner the next day. Thursdays have half-off dinners for students and it’s always so fucking packed because of it, but it’s worth it.
Steve’s got a mouthful of burger and an earful of Dustin ranting about his math teacher, Lucas giggling about it hysterically, when Max drops down in the booth beside Lucas and Billy plops down next to him.
He doesn’t choke, but it’s a near thing.
It’s just that, Dustin’s already sitting next to him, elbow bumping into the window when he gestures with his hands how much of an asshole Mr. Jet is. The booths are already too small, so. Billy’s just, like, stuck to his side.
“Um,” he says, dumbly, and swallows his food because he has manners, or something. “Hey guys.”
“Hey yourself,” Billy says around, like, five fries. “What’re you doing here, amigo?”
“Same thing you’re doing?”
Max looks at the two of them, rolls her eyes, and then starts talking to Lucas about some new game that’s supposed to be hitting the arcade soon. Something about how she overheard one of the staff members talking about replacing Space Invaders.
“Great,” Dustin says, scooting as close to the window as he can manage. “I’ll just talk to myself, I guess.”
Steve’s about to call him dramatic, but Billy’s thigh presses into his and he just, like, can’t really speak anymore.
“Outing with your kids?”
Steve snorts and tries his best to act like a normal fucking human being. He takes a sip of his pop. “I have, like, three more.”
“What’s up with that, huh? Every mother in Hawkins just drops ‘em off at your doorstep? I can’t exactly see you needing some extra money from a babysitting gig.”
“It’s a,” Steve says, pauses. He braves a glance to the side and almost loses his breath at the way Billy’s looking at him. Searching. Fries forgotten. “Long story.”
“Hm,” Billy hums, still looking straight at him. Steve’s—going to pass out, maybe, because they’re so close, and it’s a lot, it’s so much, seeing Billy’s eyes like this. He can see a few specks of green in them. “Sure.”
He takes a big bite of his burger after shrugging and there’s—there’s ketchup on the edge of his mouth when he starts chewing, and Steve isn’t really thinking when he reaches out with a napkin to wipe it off.
Billy falters a little at the touch, looks at him through his eyelashes and looks away just as quickly.
“Sorry,” Steve gets out, a little too fast, because Billy looks—he doesn’t really know what he looks like, actually, just that his shoulders are a little bunched up and there’s that goddamn pretty pink across his cheeks again, like a California sunburn. “There was. You had ketchup.”
Billy doesn’t say anything. His lip twitch up in an approximation of a smile and Dustin’s joined in on the talk about arcade games so no one’s looking at them, no one’s paying them any mind. Maybe that’s why Steve reaches out again, even though there’s no damn sauce left on his lip.
He dabs at the corner of Billy’s mouth just to do it, really focuses on the way he can see a hint of stubble and more pink coming through on his skin, and.
He’s in so much trouble.
The only time Fridays are quiet is the thirty minute stretch before school gets out. Parents are parked out in the lot, waiting for their kids, older people already have their movies rented for the weekend, and it’s just. It’s quiet and Keith is doing something somewhere else, so.
Steve’s been pacing around. Robin notices, of course she does, but she doesn’t say anything until he knocks over a rack of candy. Those stupid yellow Milk Duds packets fall to the ground with a noise louder than he expects, and as soon as he’s bent over, trying to scoop them back up,
“Steve. What the hell is going on with you? Like, in general but also specifically today?”
And the thing is, Steve knows exactly what the hell is going on with him, but, like, he doesn’t know how to make it come out. Ha. He laughs a little hysterically at himself.
“C’mon, dude. No one’s here. Let it out.”
He leaves the candy scattered on the floor and straightens back up. Plays with his hands, braces himself. “I, uh, I wiped Billy Hargrove’s face with a napkin at the diner last night and I want to kiss him a little bit, I think.”
Robin’s eyes grow wider with every word, and it would honestly be pretty goddamn hilarious if Steve wasn’t going through something. She recovers after a second, leans a little against the counter like it’s the only thing able to hold her up. “Oh. Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
“Yeah? I mean, why? Is this—are you freaking out? Is it because it’s Billy or because it’s a dude?”
“None of the above? It’s just—is that normal? I still want to kiss girls, too. It’s not—like, you know how you said just the thought of kissing a dude is enough to make you want to throw up everything you’ve ever eaten in your life? I don’t—I’m fine with kissing anyone.”
Robin looks at him like he’s a little stupid but in a way that makes him feel all warm and loved. “Of course it’s normal, Steve. You can like anyone you want to like. I mean, your taste is a little questionable, but. Power to you.”
Steve lets out another breath and feels—a little lighter, like he’s not so tightly wound up like he has been all day. “Jesus. Okay. Sorry. I don’t know why I was so scared to say that.”
“Hey. It’s a scary thing to tell someone. I get it. And it’s not like I haven’t noticed.”
“You noticed—”
The little bell on the door rings when it opens, and Steve doesn’t even look. Just spouts off the usual, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know if—”
A whistle. Steve looks over and feels a little bit like his brain stops working. Because of course Billy would come in right now, arms out and his hair all done up. Of course he’d just walk in and look at him with those bright eyes and sharp smile.
Billy nods at the pile of candy on the floor, next to Steve’s shoes. “What the hell happened here? Attempted robbery?”
“Steve’s just a klutz,” Robin says from behind him. Steve can hear the smile in her voice.
“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, laughs nervously. “That’s me.”
Billy’s smiling at him when he tucks a loose curly strand behind his ear. He’s wearing rings, and his hands—“You okay, pretty boy? This chick bothering you?”
Robin laughs all raspy and somehow sarcastically without it sounding too mean. “Guess I’ll go take this box of returns to the back. Wouldn’t wanna interrupt your daily fifteen,” she pauses, and Steve’s about to be a well mannered person and greet Billy hello, finally, but, “Oh, by the way, I don’t think I can make it to the movies this weekend, Steve. So you have an extra ticket.”
Steve is—so fucking confused, until he turns to look at her and she’s sporting the most shit eating grin imaginable on her face.
He mouths fuck off and she replies with you first, and God. She might be the death of him.
“You two are pretty close,” Billy says, watching him make his way back to behind the register. He leaves the candy on the floor because, like, his brain’s being overloaded. “What movie were you going to see?”
Yeah. She’s the death of him. If he focuses hard enough, he could probably see the light.
He looks around the store for a title, something, anything, because he actually doesn’t know what the hell is playing right now. “Uh, the one—with the. You know.”
“I don’t actually know everything, so no,” Billy says, low, and the smile on his face is so—it reaches his eyes, lights them up. “The one with the…?”
“The aliens, or something. Zombie aliens.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“God,” Steve says. Rubs his face with his hands. “Do you want to?”
Billy actually looks confused. Which isn’t what Steve was going for, not at all. God, he wasn’t even like this with Nancy. He doesn’t know why Billy gets him like this, like Robin talking two hundred words a minute about Natalie, or Vickie, or whoever else.
“Do I want to what?”
He’s fought monsters and nearly died thirty times so he can say this. He can do it. He takes a deep breath and focuses on a particularly noticeable freckle on Billy’s cheek. “Go out? See a movie with me?”
“You asking me out on a date?” Billy asks. He’s not even being a jerk about it. Doesn’t tilt his chin up for a fight, or anything. He sounds—unsure.
“Um,” Steve says. Fidgets. “If that’s something you wanted, then. Yes.”
Billy doesn’t say anything for a second, so of course Steve immediately starts filling the silence.
“It’s just that you’ve been coming in here a lot just to talk to me and I’ve started to look forward to it? You don’t have to say yes, or anything, I was just wondering. I don’t even know what movies are playing, Robin was just trying to help me out. Um,” he trails off abruptly, because Billy’s smiling at him, and that’s a good sign, probably—
“Only if I get to pick the movie.”
Steve couldn’t even tell you what movie they end up seeing, because he spends the whole time losing his mind over the way Billy touches their hands together over the cup holder between their seats.
At first he just gently nudges their pinkies together, and then he gets braver and braver until his hand is covering Steve’s. He’s half out of his mind when he turns his hand over, fully out of it when Billy laces their fingers together without a hitch.
The credits roll, they throw their empty popcorn bucket away, the packets of candy. They get outside and Billy turns a corner, gets them into the alleyway where they’re hidden away. The movie started at seven, so it’s pitch black outside. The bricks are cool against Steve’s back when he leans into them.
“You know,” he says, low, and Steve can only make out his sharp smile because of a street lamp across the way. He’s close, maybe a foot away. “I can’t believe I used to be jealous of Nancy Wheeler when I could’ve just asked for you.”
Steve—shivers. People are leaving the theater, voices getting quieter as they walk back to their cars. He doesn’t even care that someone, anyone could see them. “You should’ve.”
Their shoes knock together when Billy closes the little space between them. “Can I—”
“Yes,” Steve interrupts. He’s not even embarrassed. He’s just wanted to kiss him for so long, that it’s honestly fucked up it hasn’t happened yet. “Please.”
Billy leans in. Slow. Because he’s an asshole like that.
Their lips are so close that Steve just has to move a centimeter for them to be touching, but Billy backs away a little. Grins. “Steve,” he whispers, and, no, Steve takes it back.
This is the nicest thing he’s ever heard come from Billy’s mouth.