Work Text:
It’s about two weeks into summer, and Steve already knows the rest of it is gonna suck.
Already, he’s bored out of his mind with nothing to do. He has no friends, besides a bunch of thirteen-year-olds, most of whom don’t even bother to talk to him unless they want something like a ride or secret access into the movie theatres. And if he’s being totally honest, thirteen-year-olds don’t count as friends if you’re their babysitter.
So Steve literally spends all his time scooping ice cream under the florescent lights of the Starcourt Mall. If the Air Conditioning isn’t cold enough already, the freezer in Scoops Ahoy is so cold that Steve is constantly chilled the bone, and he tries to avoid thinking resentfully about how he's missing out on all the sunshine outside.
Working sucks.
Life sucks.
Not to mention, he’s stuck working with Robin Buckley, a band geek who makes him feel like an idiot most of the time.
When Steve isn’t ruminating about his shitty summer, he’s dealing with irritable parents, screeching children who get their tacky fingerprints all over everything, and fellow teens who Steve really would rather not serve, no matter how many times Robin reminds him that it’s not embarrassing to have a summer job.
“It is embarrassing to have a summer job here,” he says, and even Robin doesn’t have a quip for that.
“It could be worse,” she offers after what’s probably the fourth time he’s complained about it that week.
“How?”
Robin shrugs. “You could be the mall janitor. Or cold calling people selling life insurance.”
“I don’t know. Both of those sound better than wearing this outfit in front of the population of Hawkins.”
Robin rolls her eyes so hard, it looks like it hurts. “Have you ever tried getting over yourself?”
Steve pretends to think. “No, I don’t think that would work.”
“Incoming brat.” Robin says suddenly, looking over his shoulder. She turns to head into the breakroom.
Steve turns to see Max striding into the parlour. No doubt, to get free ice cream. He’s given them out to all of the kids about five times already, and he’s only been here for two weeks. He’s already complained to them about it, to no avail.
But Max, he doesn’t mind as much. He’s usually only irritable with the boys, because somehow telling off a little girl seems meaner than telling off a boy. And he sort of likes Max—the kid has got guts.
But at the sight of her, his stomach drops. Because she’s not with the rest of the Party. No. Trailing behind her Billy fucking Hargrove, who Steve ha barely spoken to at all since the night Billy completely kicked his ass. They went the rest of the school year avoiding each other, unless they seriously had to interact in basketball practice. But besides that, they had no classes together, and Steve definitely didn’t hang out with that crowd anymore. Sometimes, they saw each other when they were picking up their respective kids. But they never said hey, never nodded, never acknowledged each other ever.
And Steve doesn’t really feel like changing that.
“Hey,” Steve greets Max, and only Max, as if she had come in alone.
“Hey Steve! I came for free ice cream,” her smile is both sheepish and a little devious, as if she knows Steve is probably annoyed.
So he just laughs politely. “I figured as much. What’ll it be?”
He spares a quick glance at Billy. It seems like he’s trying to look everywhere but at Steve.
“USS Butterscotch, please!”
Steve silently grabs the scoop and gathers a generous scoop from the freezer, feeling too self-conscious to make small talk or crack any jokes with Billy around.
“How’s the job going?” Max asks after a beat.
“It could be worse,” he says lightly, not wanting to express too much. He hands Max her ice cream, a delicate napkin wrapped around the base. “Here you go.”
“Thanks!” She turns to Billy. “Gonna get an ice cream Billy?”
Billy finally looks at Steve. It’s almost startling, having Billy Hargrove’s gaze upon him like this. Steve had forgotten the weight of his stare, the clarity of the blue. He suppresses a shiver.
“Give me a vanilla cone.”
Steve doesn’t roll his eyes, but he scoops the vanilla with far less enthusiasm, and gives Billy the allotted amount of ice cream and no more. He hands Billy the cone, mindful of the warm brush of Billy’s fingers. Billy swipes his tongue up the cone immediately, with such intent Steve feels like it’s just to piss Steve off.
“One-fifty.”
Billy scowls. “I thought it was free?”
“Not for you, obviously.”
“I get it.” Billy nods, grinning in a way that makes Steve’s stomach drop a little. “You only give free ice cream to little kids, like some pedo.”
“Ew, Billy,” Max says, making a face.
Steve gives Billy a look like he’s unbothered by the jab. “It’s sick that your mind even goes there,” he says, and holds out his palm. “Now pay up.”
Billy rolls his eyes and reaches into his back pocket. His jeans are so tight, Steve imagines it must be pretty difficult to get his whole hand in there. He drops a handful of loose change on the counter, and begins to sift through it coin by coin as he eats his ice cream.
Max groans. “This is taking forever.”
“Harrington is the one who insists I pay. I’m just trying to give the man what he wants.” Billy slides another penny over towards Steve.
After what feels like ten minutes of watching Billy meticulously count what must be all pennies and dimes, Steve finally gives up. “Okay, you know what? Never mind. Just go.”
Max gives him an apologetic look, while Billy grins up at him like the cat that got the cream. His eyes twinkle as he slides all his change off the counter and back into his pocket.
“Good call, Harrington.”
“Thanks, Steve,” Max says. She gives him a little wave and turns to leave.
Billy gives Steve a final once over, mouth still on his ice cream, and Steve’s confidence wavers. Unlike everybody else in the world, Billy somehow manages to look cool even while devouring an ice cream cone.
“Nice shorts,” Billy quips, before turning and following Max out the exit.
Steve sputters, but can’t come up with any kind of comeback. So he just watches Billy go, face pathetically warm and suddenly more desperate than ever to get this fucking uniform off.
–
It’s four weeks into summer, and already Steve is ready for it to be over. Even if he’s got nothing to look forward to this coming fall like everybody else, he knows he won’t be working at Scoops come September. At least, he better not be.
His boss already asked him about it, since all of the other employees are going back to school in the fall. Steve couldn’t give any reason for leaving, but the question had shaken him up. It’s one thing to work at Scoops over the summer. It’s an entirely different thing to work there all year. Steve knows he’s a loser, but he can’t let himself stoop that low. He’ll have to come up with something–anything. He says as much to Robin on a slow afternoon while she’s half-heartedly trying to read a book in the breakroom.
“So, you’ll just pull a plan out of your ass?”
“Sure,” Steve says, with much more confidence than he feels.
“Like… what?” Robin’s doing that thing again, where she makes him feel like an idiot. She’s similar to Nancy in that way, Steve thinks. But Nancy would try to hold it back, smile sweetly over her condescension. Robin just openly mocks him. Steve thinks he prefers Robin’s approach. But he would never tell her that.
“Like, meet a girl.”
Robin snorts. “And then what? A girl doesn’t equal a career, dingus.”
“I know that. But at least then I’ll have some… direction.”
“That makes zero sense.”
Just as Steve is about to rebuke, he glances out at the front counter to make sure the parlour is still empty. Sure enough, who should be leaning against the counter but Billy fucking Hargrove.
Steve groans. “Aw shit, not him again.”
“Who?”
“Billy Hargrove.”
“Oh yeah, I remember when he kicked your ass last year.”
Steve sighs. “Can you take care of him? Please?”
Robin quirks her brow from her seat on the breakroom table. She’s half way through an apple, open book in hand. “I’m on my break.”
“C’mon. I would do it for you.”
“No you wouldn’t,” she returns to her book.
She might be right, but it doesn’t stop Steve from whining. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I live to watch you suffer,” she deadpans.
“Hello?” Billy calls from the counter, hands flying up in indignation. “Does anyone work at this damn place?”
Steve slaps his hat back over his hair, shoots Robin one last betrayed glare, and trudges out to the front counter.
Billy’s mouth curls when he sees Steve, and Steve’s stomach twists with dread, just knowing he came in just to be an asshole.
“Harrington. I was hoping you’d be here.”
“Really.” Steve’s tone is dry, but he feels a stupid little flip in his stomach and his face tingles. He chalks it up to the sudden, and unusual attention from Billy Hargrove. Steve isn’t used to Billy looking at him, talking to him, doing that thing where he pins Steve with a look like he’s going to fucking eat him for dinner. The last time Steve can even remember Billy giving him any attention at all is back in November. And being on the receiving end of that didn’t end well.
“I had to come back to get another look at that sailor uniform.”
Steve’s face grows hot, and he can’t look at Billy’s grinning face.
“It’s mandatory, okay? Do you want ice cream, or did you just come in here to be an ass?”
Billy smiles smugly. “I guess I’ll get a vanilla cone while I’m here.”
Steve rolls his eyes and grabs the scoop. He doesn’t bother to try to make the ice cream round or make sure there’s enough, he just scoops it up and plops the misshapen mound onto the cone without a single care. He shoves it towards Billy.
“That’s one-fifty.”
Billy takes the cone and frowns, but there’s the trace of a smile there, too. Steve wants to punch him.
“I thought it was free?”
Steve huffs. “You know it’s not free.”
“It was free last time.”
“No, last time you took a hundred years to pay so I let it slide. It was a one time thing.”
Billy starts in on his ice cream, mouthing along the sides while he holds Steve’s gaze. It’s truly unbelievable.
“I didn’t bring any change.”
Steve stares at him. “Who goes to the mall with no money?”
Billy shrugs easily. “People who expect free ice cream.”
Steve closes his eyes, willing himself to calm. He cannot let Billy Hargrove get to him like this. He thought after graduation that he would never have to deal with Billy Hargrove again, now that they weren’t forced to be in the same building five days a week. How wrong Steve was. When he opens his eyes, Billy’s smirk tells him he’s getting the reaction he wanted from Steve.
He lets Billy go with the free ice cream, because there’s nothing else he can really do, besides grabbing the ice cream right from his hand and throwing it in the trash. Steve would love to see the look on Billy’s face. But he doesn’t do that. He watches Billy strut his way out of the parlor in his too-tight cut-offs and wonders how the fuck this even happened.
–
Steve storms into the back, where Robin still has her nose stuck in a book, banana peel empty and left on the table.
“He is unbelievable. I swear to god, next time he comes in, you’re serving him.”
“What did he do?” Robin asks without looking up from the page.
Steve explains, growing more frustrated as he recounts the story.
“I can’t believe he just like, bullied his way into getting free ice cream from you.”
“He didn’t bully me,” he defends. “He just refuses to pay. What am I supposed to do?”
“You could just refuse to serve him,” she says, like it’s obvious.
That hadn’t even really occurred to Steve. “Oh yeah. I guess I could do that.”
“No duh,” she says, and shakes her head like she thinks he’s an idiot.
–
The worst part about working at Scoops, besides dealing with insolent parents and whining kids, is changing the ice cream tubs. Every time he sees the white bottom peeking out from the remnants of the tub, Steve heaves a heavy sigh.
He usually tries to do it either first thing before they open, or after closing, so nobody can disturb while while replacing the tubs. It’s actually hard work, and it’s annoying as hell, and he looks fucking stupid doing it. He knows, because he saw Robin do it once.
On this Saturday morning, they sell a lot more Butterscotch than usual, so much that by lunch time they’ve gone through almost the entire tub, and Steve knows it will need to be replaced by the end of the day. Robin, of course, always makes him change it because it requires heavy lifting.
So, he awkwardly hoists the massive tub of Butterscotch out to the front. The parlour is empty – but not for much longer, Steve guesses.
He waits for a lull, and then pulls the empty tub out of the cooler and into the back to be washed and recycled later, and trudges to the back back room to dig through the multiple freezers until he finds USS Butterscotch.
Carrying it out is hell. It’s hard to pick up, because his fingers are completely numb and the little lip around the opening leaves no room to really grip. He tries a couple of times, but it slips out of his grip, and then the lid comes clean off and spills molten ice cream on the floor. Steve swears. Finally, he manages to get his bare arms around the fucking tub and it’s freezing on his bare arms, and the cold condensation seeps through his shirt and he can feel it on his goddamn nipples.
“Need a hand?” Robin asks as he waddles through the breakroom with the massive tub.
“Why aren’t you out front?” Steve asks, ignoring her question because he knows the offer wasn’t genuine.
“There are no customers out there.”
Awkwardly, he shoves the door to the front of the parlour and sets the tub down to open the freezer door. Still no customers. He squats down to wrap his arms around the tub, and he can feel how much condensation is already weeping from it. He leans uncomfortable over the rows of ice cream and tries to shove the tub into place on the far side of the display.
After what feels like five minutes of trying different angles, the tub finally slides in. Steve releases a heavy sigh, relieved to have it done.
He glances over his shoulder to make sure no customers have been waiting to be served during his awkward venture, and of fucking course, Billy fucking Hargrove is leaning over the counter, tongue hanging out his hyena mouth.
Steve flushes and straightens immediately. He looks down and his uniform is darkened from collarbone to thigh from the condensation on the tub. His nipples are numb. He wishes he had just told the customers that no we’re out of butterscotch today and just fucking left it. He doesn’t know how long Billy has been watching him, but judging by his expression, Billy witnessed enough.
“What do you want?”
Billy’s eyes linger on him for a second, as if trying to savour how embarrassed Steve is sure he looks right now. “It’s an ice cream parlour, isn’t it?”
Steve rolls his eyes to make up for how stupid he feels, how annoyed he is that Billy has the power to make him feel that stupid. “I thought for a second you might have just come in to be an asshole.”
Billy snickers as if Steve said something funny. He leans against the counter, all too casually, while he looks at Steve with that smug, knowing look he always has that makes Steve’s skin crawl.
“I’ll have the usual.”
Steve glares at Billy. “You know, you have to pay this time.”
Billy looks at Steve blankly and doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not getting you an ice cream until you pay.”
“C’mon, Harrington. It’s just an ice cream. What’s the big deal?”
“I’m not giving you free ice cream, Hargrove. I’m not breaking company policy for you.”
“You give free ice cream to all those little dorks.”
“They’re friends. We’re not friends.”
“We’re not friends?” He asks facetiously.
“Is your goal to irritate me until I cave?”
“Is it working?”
Yes. Steve thinks, but he doesn’t want to give Billy the satisfaction. He knows this is some twisted game, some kind of power play like Billy’s still got something to prove. Steve just shakes his head.
“No. Jesus, how hard is it to pay me? You’re not above the rules of the world, Hargrove. You wouldn’t let me into the pool for free, so why would I—“
“I’ll let you into the pool for free.”
“What?”
Billy shrugs easily. “I don’t have a stick up my ass like you do.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, I have my own pool.”
“But does your pool have girls in bikinis?”
Steve scoffs. “Thanks, but I don’t need to go to a public pool to get girls.”
From behind the divider, Steve hears Robin snort.
Billy rolls his eyes like he thinks Steve is an idiot. “You’re missing the point here, Harrington. I would let you in for free, so you should give me ice cream for free.”
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
Then, something weird happens. Weirder than what’s already been happening. Billy leans forward a little, flashes Steve a smile like they’re in some secret together, eyes heavy-lidded and sparkling, and looking at Steve like—like… he can’t even finish the thought. Steve knows Billy is just trying to charm him into getting his way. But the worst part is that it’s kind of working.
“C’mon, Harrington. Can’t you spare one little scoop for old times sake?” His voice is like dripping honey, smooth and sweet and raw, and it sends a little shiver down Steve’s spine.
Steve takes a step back. “Okay, first of all, stop that.”
“Stop what?” He blinks up at Steve innocently. Damn, he’s good.
“Doing that. Your creepy moves aren’t gonna work on me.”
But Billy’s grin only widens, and there’s something twinkling in his eyes, something like triumph.
“Sure about that?”
Steve doesn’t know how to handle Billy. He never did. At least when he was volatile, Steve could just take the punches. Now, he’s not sure how to take this. He almost wishes Billy would just be a douchebag, instead of this weird – game.
“If I give you free ice cream, will you fucking leave?”
Billy shrugs easily. “It’s a deal.”
“This is the last time,” Steve warns, but he has a feeling it won’t be.
“Whatever you say.”
Steve watches him stroll out. In Billy’s absence, Steve realizes how shaken up he is, and how easily Billy gets him so worked up with such little effort.
“Excuse me,” Robin appears at the window, with an expression Steve can’t place. “What just happened?”
Steve releases a long sigh, feeling validated by Robin’s incredulity. “What an asshole, right? I told you he’s impossible.”
Robin blinks at him, in that way she does when he’s being an idiot.
“Billy Hargrove was totally just flirting with you.”
Steve’s stomach drops. He grimaces at her, before turning away to hide how red his face must be getting at the mischievous smile that’s tugging Robin’s lips, her eyes alight with something like delight.
“What--? That wasn’t flirting,” Steve scoffs, and turns away to fiddle with the scoops on the counter.
“It was totally flirting. He was basically hitting on you. How did you not notice?”
Steve shakes his head. Glances at Robin to shoot her a look like this time, she’s the stupid one. “That wasn’t flirting, Robin, that was – that was-“ Steve honestly isn’t sure what it was.
“It was what?”
“That was him being an asshole. You know, like a power play. He’s trying to like, undermine me, or whatever. It’s a guy thing,” he adds, when she opens her mouth to disagree.
She snaps her mouth shut and quirks her brow dubiously. But she doesn’t press, and they drop it.
They don’t talk about it again, but for the rest of that day he can feel her eyes on him, and catches the hint of a knowing smile on her. Steve tries not to let it get to him, and tries not to remember the soft-lipped and heavy-lidded look Billy gave him over the counter.
–
The next time Billy comes in, he’s got an arm slung lazily around some girl’s shoulders. She’s cute, with tan skin and dark hair. Steve can’t help but steal glances at her, wondering what it is Billy likes about her. Or if she’s just another one of his lays. Billy’s been around the block when it comes to the girls in Hawkins. Steve wonders what Billy looks for in a girl, or if he just goes for anyone willing.
When they come up to the front Billy orders his usual vanilla, and his date orders a scoop of bubblegum – possibly the grossest flavour, but Steve doesn’t say anything.
“Three dollars,” Steve says. Eyes trained on Billy, expecting his usual rebuttal.
“Aw, Harrington, I thought we had an agreement?”
“And what agreement might that be?”
“You know, you get me ice cream, I get you access to the pool. Prid quo pro.”
“Weird, because I haven’t gone to the pool once.”
“Yeah, well that’s on you for not reaping the benefits of our deal.”
Steve is about to open his mouth to argue, but then Billy pulls the girl closer and says, “C’mon Harrington. Don’t make me look bad in front of my date.”
The girl giggles, and they’re both looking at Steve expectantly.
“Alright, fine. But I’m coming to the pool,” Steve threatens.
“Bout time.” Billy flashes his teeth in a too-charming smile as Steve turns to get the pair their ice creams.
“Unbelievable,” Steve mutters under his breath.
–
He doesn’t really want to go to the pool alone, and he doesn’t want to bring the kids, so he asks his only other friend - Robin. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that his only friend these days is a band geek he otherwise never would have spoken to a year ago. That’s his life now.
“Go to the pool with you?” She asks like it’s the most bizarre thing she’s ever heard.
“Yes.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “Why?”
Steve huffs. “Because I want to go see if Billy will actually let me in for free.”
“I meant why me?”
Steve shrugs, unwilling to admit that he has no one to go with. “I just thought we could hang out. You know, outside of Scoops, on the one afternoon we both have off.”
“You want to hang out with me?”
“Shocking, I know. Now do you want to come or not?”
Robin shakes her head, but she’s smiling just slightly. “Alright, dingus.”
When they get to the pool, Billy isn’t behind the counter. Steve is almost sure his request to be let in for free because Billy Hargrove said so will be rejected, and he’ll feel even more like an idiot than he already does. But the pretty girl at the front counter, who Steve recognizes as Billy’s date, smiles when she sees him.
“Steve? Billy says you get in for free.”
Steve is surprised, a little bit flattered, and a little bit suspicious.
Once they’re at the poolside, Steve searches for Billy. He’s hard to miss, perched far above the crowd in his lifeguard’s chair like a king on his throne, bare knees golden in the sunlight and eyes hidden under dark sunglasses.
Steve can’t tell if he can see them, so Steve doesn’t wave in the fear of looking like a loser.
He and Robin set up their stuff at two lounge chairs. Steve glances up at Billy, and this time Billy removes his glasses to shoot Steve a nod. Steve gives a small wave, feeling weird about waving at Billy Hargrove like they’re friends now, or something. He puts his sunglasses back on, and Steve tears himself away.
Robin scoffs as she gazes out at the pool. “There are no sexy girls here. It’s like, all moms and children.”
For the first time, Steve surveys the crowd at the pool, and finds that Robin is more or less right.
“It’s fine,” Steve says, and he means it. “We didn’t come for the girls.”
“We didn’t? Then why did we come?”
“To get free access to the pool.”
“I thought you had your own pool.”
Steve huffs. “That’s beside the point, Robin.”
Robin pops her sunglasses on, grinning.
“Well, well,” a voice says at his right. Steve turns to find Billy posturing with his hands on his lips, sunglasses dark and his teeth glimmering. He’s got on the tightest pair of shorts Steve has ever seen. “Look who finally decided to visit.”
“I figured it was time to get my end of the deal,” Steve says, and he feels stupid for saying it, but Billy just nods casually.
“Well, guess this makes us even, Harrington.”
“Guess so.” Steve wonders if this means Billy won’t be back in to get more ice creams. He’s strangely disappointed by the thought.
“Steve, don’t forget sunscreen!” Robin shakes the bottle of SPF from her spot on the lounge chair.
“That’s right. Don’t want to burn your pretty skin, do we, princess?” Billy grins around his chewing gum.
“Well, some of us aren’t lucky enough to tan like you do, asshole.” As soon as he says it, he realizes it sounds more like a compliment than an insult.
“I know, Snow White. Enjoy the pool. Behave yourselves, or I’ll blow my whistle.” Billy turns to head back to his chair.
Steve and Robin lie on the lounge chairs for a while, Robin flipping through the pages of a book. Steve tries to relax, but finds his gaze keeps drifting over to the lifeguard. With his sunglasses on, Steve feels the freedom to actually look in a way he normally doesn’t. Because it’s weird to just like, stare at guys. It’s weird to stare at anyone, but especially a guy, and especially Billy Hargrove. But Steve just can’t get over the guy’s looks. Sitting there in his blazing red swimming trunks, too tight and too short, Billy’s got the look of a supermodel, the kind that appear on magazines. With his tousled golden hair, provocative smile under his pink lips, chest broad and glistening, arms strong and bulging, legs hairy and shapely, it’s almost too suggestive, as if his mere existence is pornographic.
“You know you’re like, staring at Billy Hargrove,” Robin breaks him out of his reverie.
Panicked, Steve turns sharply to Robin. “What? I’m not staring.”
“We must have different definitions of staring then.”
Steve groans. “Shut up. I was just – you know, checking him out. Not like – I mean, you know, sizing up my competition or whatever.”
Robin snorts. “Your competition? For what? All the hot girls here?”
“Just generally, my competition. It’s a guy thing.”
“Okay,” she says, but she sounds far from convinced.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passes them, during which Steve tries not to look at Billy again since apparently he’s being monitored by Robin.
“I’m just saying,” she tries again, and Steve is bristling before she’s even finished. “It’s okay if you were.”
“I wasn’t staring, Robin. I just happened to zone out while my eyes were in his general direction.”
“Oh, I thought you were checking out your macho competition?”
“Why are you on my case? Why do you even care where I’m looking?” Steve huffs irritably. “I’m going for a swim.”
“Steve-“
“It’s fine,” he says, even though he doesn’t really mean it. But he doesn’t want to deal with whatever conversation they’re having right now, so he slips out of his sandals and jumps into the water without looking at Billy.
To his surprise, he resurfaces in time to see Robin leaping in after him. She resurfaces with a huge grin on her face, water coming out of her nose, and despite himself Steve finds himself laughing at her enthusiasm.
It’s actually fun, swimming with Robin. The two of them haven’t hung out much outside of work, aside from the occasional rides he gives her because Robin is still saving up for her own car. She isn’t his usual type, not at all. When they first met, Steve took in her smudged eyeliner, chipped black nail polish and gel bracelets and thought geek. Some small voice that still belonged to the Old Steve, the douchebag who thought that the only people worthwhile were the ones he was already hanging out with.
But that Steve is becoming a distant memory. Steve knows now that the universe is full of mysteries, and all the twists and turns lead to unexpected places. He knows that now. Things are never as they seem. He knows now that Tommy and Carol aren’t the friends he always thought they were. He knows that Nancy Wheeler isn’t the dainty snob everyone thinks she is. And Robin isn’t the weird geek he might have once thought she was. And Steve knows there’s more to discover about himself, too. Absently, Steve’s gaze flickers to Billy, and he wonders what else there is to Billy Hargrove.
They stay for a couple of hours, but once the sun lowers and the wind picks up a little, Steve and Robin gather their belongings and head to the change rooms. Steve is looking in the mirror to see if he got a sunburn (he definitely did), when Billy appears in the locker room.
Steve whips around.
Even under the dingy lights of the locker room, Billy looks healthy and strong. His teeth are white under the lazy smirk, and without his shirt on, Steve can really tell how tan Billy is.
“Leavin’ already, Pretty Boy?”
“Uh, yeah I think so. Thanks for the free pass.”
Billy lays a hand at his hip, eyes trained on Steve. Steve tries not to notice the smatter of blonde hair on his chest, or how it trails down into his bright red trunks.
“I didn’t see many hot girls in bikinis though, like you promised,” Steve says, because he isn’t sure what to talk about, and he needs something to say.
“Don’t do the moms of Hawkins a disservice, Harrington.”
Steve chuckles, “Gross.”
“Didn’t think you were here for chicks, anyway,” Billy says.
Steve pulse quickens. “What?”
Billy quirks his brow, like it should be obvious, and the panic is crawling up Steve’s throat.
“I don’t know what it’s like in Indiana, but in California you don’t bring your girl with you to pick up chicks. Unless she’s down for it,” Billy adds, winking.
Steve releases a heavy breath. “Robin? We’re not dating.”
“Who said anything about dating?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Nothing is happening between us. She’s just a friend. And trust me, you’re not her type.”
Billy scoffs. “Harrington. I’m everyone’s type.”
“Is that right?” Steve isn’t sure where this conversation is going.
“Sad to hear you’re losing your magic touch, amigo. Need some pointers?” Billy’s eyes are twinkling, like he absolutely loves asking Steve if he needs girl advice. Steve is reminded why he and Billy aren’t friends.
“Please. Robin’s cool and all, she’s just not my type.”
Billy hums. He looks like he’s really considering Steve’s words, as he gives him a quick once over, so quick he almost misses it. But it doesn’t fail to make Steve flush, even more so when Billy takes a small step closer, leaning slightly into Steve’s space.
“What exactly is your type, then?”
Steve’s instinct is to take a step back, but he doesn’t move. He stays in this shared space with Billy, and it’s then that Steve notices for the first time that it’s just the two of them in the locker room. Billy smells like sunscreen and cologne and sweat, and Steve doesn’t mind the scent at all. Billy’s eyes are heavy and dark, trained on him with an intensity that sends flutters in Steve’s stomach.
This time it’s unmistakable.
Billy is flirting with Steve. Right?
But Billy isn’t the type to flirt with other guys. He’s the type who punches other guys, who bullies other guys. But Steve was like that once, too. But he can’t help but wonder if what Billy is doing is some kind of elaborate stunt, some cunning trick like Billy’s going to pull away at any moment and tell everyone that Steve Harrington is some kind of queer. The thought is a little worm in the back of his mind, keeping him from being swept away by the blue fire of Billy’s eyes and the strong, masculine scent of him.
The expression on Billy’s face is unreadable as he watches Steve intently, his eyes dark and his mouth quirked in a small smirk. It could be desire, and it could be something meaner. Steve isn’t sure, doesn’t know Billy well enough to read his expressions.
Steve swallows thickly, lets his gaze linger on Billy’s mouth as it works over the minty chewing gum Steve can smell now, too.
Steve wets his lips before he speaks. Billy’s eyes flicker down to it. “I’m not really sure,” he says.
This seems to please Billy. “You want some help figuring it out?”
And that’s an invitation if Steve’s ever heard one. But Steve has never been good at reading between the lines, and he might be reading things all wrong. Like how he read his relationship with Nancy all wrong.
He’s about to ask what Billy means, when the sudden crash of the locker room door has them stepping away from one another – and Steve didn’t realize they were standing so close they needed to step back in the presence of others. Like standing so close like they had was forbidden somehow.
A throng of young boys come throttling in, laughing and screaming, and Billy begins towards the exit to the pool. He shoots Steve one last look before he disappears, leaving Steve with a racing pulse.
–
“Did you get lost in there?” Robin is tapping her foot, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for Steve by the front entrance.
“I was talking to Billy,” Steve says without looking at her.
Out of the corner of his eye he can see her expression light up, but he ignores her. She doesn’t say anything, but Steve is sure she’s dying to torment him some more. The two walk back to Steve’s car in an uneasy silence.
He can feel Robin watching him, in that weirdly observant way she does sometimes, like she’s trying to figure something out. It makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like she can see right through him.
They drive back to Robin’s without talking much. It still feels tense, and Steve can feel Robin’s restlessness beside him. She keeps glancing at him and fidgeting, and it makes him nervous because Robin never keeps things to herself. She always tells him exactly what she’s thinking.
“What?” He snaps.
“What?”
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
From his periphery he sees her shrug. “I’m just thinking.”
He’s going to ask her what exactly she’s thinking about, but he thinks he already knows. He adjusts his position in the car seat, and stays quiet.
“It’s okay if you have a thing for Billy, you know.”
“Robin, I don’t have a thing for Hargrove. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Why is it so ridiculous?”
He gives her a look. “Um, because he’s a guy?”
“So?”
Steve wraps his head around what she’s saying. “So? So. I’m not – I’m not – I like girls, Robin.” And that’s true. Steve does like girls. Has always liked girls, and never questioned it.
“You can like both,” Robin says.
Steve opens his mouth to continue defending himself, but he closes it. “You can?”
“Yup. There are tons of people like it.”
Steve finally casts a glance at Robin. Her expression is open, her voice is soft.
“Are you?”
“No.” And that makes his heart sink a little bit. “I exclusively like girls.”
Steve is at a loss for words. He turns to look at her, to make sure that somehow she’s not just pulling his leg. But she looks back with a calm and candid expression.
“I’m gay, dingus.”
Steve ponders this as he drives towards Robin’s place. Robin likes other women. Robin is gay. It’s shocking, but in a way, it fits.
“Huh.”
Steve is a little bit awed because he’s never met anyone gay before. I mean, sure, there were some kids who were rumored to be gay back in school, kids who Steve would mock and mutter queer under his breath when they passed. Steve cringes when he thinks of it now, especially in this car with Robin. The fact that she told him at all is nothing short of miraculous.
He’s at a loss for what to say. He’s never been in any kind of situation like this before. He’s never even given much thought to gay, not like, actually. Not as anything more than an insult, which Steve cringes to remember. Steve wonders if Robin ever heard him or any of his friends mutter any homophobic slurs. He wonders how many other kids he might have inadvertently hurt with his carelessness. He pushes that thought away from his mind and focuses on Robin, who’s eyes are glassy as they stare out the windshield.
“Earth to Steve.”
“Oh, shit, sorry. I’m just – thinking.”
“Oh,” Robin looks straight ahead, through the windshield.
“So, you like girls.” He says, just to be clear. Just so that there’s no misunderstandings. Just so he can hear the words out loud.
Robin looks at him carefully and nods.
Steve nods back. “Wow. Cool.”
“Cool?”
Steve smiles, and places a gentle hand over hers. “Cool.”
Robin looks at their hands with surprise, but when she looks up, her eyes are damp and there’s a small smile on her lips.
–
What Robin said sits with him funny for the next couple of days. He turns it over like a coin in his hand, smoothing over the ridges. You can like both. There are tons of people like it. Steve wonders if Billy is one of them. Steve wonders if he himself is one of them. He has always liked girls, so he never wondered whether he was a ‘queer’. But upon reflection, Tommy’s older cousin Andy immediately comes to mind. The vivid memory of watching him play ball in a pair of dolphin shorts, of getting a little hard at the sight of his strong legs and firm glutes in those tiny shorts. Steve had only been about thirteen, and Andy must have been eighteen. He had taught Tommy and Steve how to play softball and how to roll cigarettes. Steve remembered being drawn to him, like he had a gravitational pull, couldn’t keep his eyes off his tan skin and scattering of dark hairs everywhere. But Steve had always brushed it off as just getting turned on by everything back then, by simply idolizing a cool older teenager like all boys his age did. Looking back, he wonders if he’d had a crush on Andy.
And he wonders if he has a crush on Billy Hargrove - or if Billy has a crush on him.
–
The next time Billy comes in, Steve is on his break. “Oh dingus,” Robin calls as she rounds the corner. “Your boyfriend is here.”
Steve scrambles up, flustered. “Keep your voice down, Jesus!” He whispers, but she just laughs.
“He asked for you specifically.”
“He did?”
Robin quirks an eyebrow, and over her self-righteous smirk, he knows exactly what she’s thinking.
“Shut up.”
“Mhm.”
Steve isn’t sure if he can even face Billy right now. As if he’s afraid Billy will take one look at him and know that Steve has been thinking about him all week.
“There’s my favourite sailor,” Billy coos at Steve’s approach, and Steve’s face is hotter than he would ever like it to be. Knowing he’s probably all red only makes it worse.
“You know, for a guy who’s in such good shape, you eat a lot of ice cream.”
Billy raises a delighted eyebrow. “Think I’m in good shape, Harrington?”
Fuck. “I mean–”
“So you’ve been checking me out, huh?”
“Only in your dreams, asshole.”
“In my dreams you do more than check me out, Pretty Boy.” Billy runs his tongue along his grin, winks lasciviously as Steve’s heart races as if it’s trying to take flight.
Steve doesn’t even know how to respond, just scoffs like it’s a joke (which it is - right?). He goes to pick up the scoop just for something to do and drops it with a loud clatter. He picks up a new one, ignoring the one he just dropped to save face.
“So, the usual?” Steve asks, trying to calm his nerves.
Billy watches him with something akin to amusement. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “Get sick of the same old thing, don’t you?”
Steve swallows. “I guess, yeah. So you want something else? There’s like a ton of flavours.”
“Let me think. What flavour do I want?” he says, but his eyes stay trained on Steve, not the rows of ice cream. “Got any recommendations?”
“Uh,” Steve tries to think. What are his recommendations? What does he like? What does he eat? Who is he? “Butterscotch is probably the most popular.”
“Yeah, but I wanna know what’s the most popular flavour with Steve Harrington?”
Under the weight of Billy’s gaze, Steve has never felt so flustered in his whole life. He didn’t even know it was possible for him to lose his cool this badly. “My favourite is uh, strawberries and cream.”
“Strawberries and cream,” Billy says, like he’s trying to get used to it, memorize it. He nods. “I’ll try it.”
Steve scoops it with care, a perfectly plump and round scoop of marbled pink and white on top of a pale yellow cone, and hands it over to Billy. Billy twists it around his tongue as soon as he gets it, tongue painted white and pink before it disappears back inside his mouth.
“Not bad, Harrington.”
This time, Steve leans against the counter amicably, as if they’re suddenly friends now. As if Billy letting him and Robin into the pool really was some kind of truce.
“Where’s Mrs. Scoops?” Billy says around his cone. He doesn’t meet Steve’s eye.
“She's in the back taking her break.” Steve swallows thickly, suddenly wondering if this really was all about Robin and not him. “Why do you ask?”
Billy just gives a casual shrug, as if Steve’s heart isn’t pounding at the idea of having misinterpreted this entire thing.
“You guys always work together?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Billy nods, lewdly licking his Strawberries and Cream.
“You ever get shifts just by yourself?”
Steve feels his stomach flutter, his heart hammering. “At close on slow nights, there’s usually just one of us. I’m working alone for the next four nights after six.” Steve is almost afraid to ask, but he does. “Why?”
Billy shrugs again, straightening up with a little grin. “Just wondering. Catch you later, Harrington.”
–
The following shift, Steve can hardly contain his nervousness. It feels like the day is dragging on for hours and hours, and he can barely focus on simple tasks like remembering customer’s orders.
“What is your deal?” Robin asks after serving a handful of customerr, during which Steve messed up two of their orders and dropped one scoop on the floor.
“Just tired,” he tells her, and he can tell she’s not entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push. He likes that about Robin.
The day drags along, and when six rolls around, and Robin skips off to enjoy the rest of her evening, Steve feels like he might be sick. He keeps busy, completing more tasks than he ever has at Scoops, to avoid feeling the incredible butterflies upheaving his guts. He tries to not keep looking over at the entrance, each time hoping to see Billy’s stocky figure there.
But closing time comes and goes, and Billy never comes.
Even as he locks up and walks to the car, Steve keeps an eye out. But there’s no sign.
–
The next few days pass much the same; Steve choking on his own nerves, constantly glancing up towards the entrance, and Robin silently judging him for being a ditz. But Billy doesn’t come, and Steve wonders if he took Billy’s words too literally. If maybe he had misinterpreted everything, and he’s just a fool again, like always.
–
It’s the following week on a Wednesday when Steve is pulling the gate shut two minutes to close, desperate to get out and enjoy the last of the evening.
“Slow down there, Harrington.”
Startled, Steve glances up at Billy.
No matter how many times Steve sees him, seeing him for the first time is always somehow staggering. Because he always looks better in person than Steve remembers. Hair always coiffed effortlessly, skin always the colour of caramel, lips always so full and pink, and his eyes always so smug and blue.
He’s wearing denim shorts and a shirt that’s unbuttoned almost all the way. An earring dangles at his left ear. Next to Billy, Steve must look like a sad sack.
“What do you want?” Steve asks, not unkindly.
“Got time for one more customer?”
“It’s literally closing time,” Steve laughs breathlessly, wishing he were annoyed that Billy waited for a whole week, just to come right at close. But he can’t bring himself to be anything but elated.
“C’mon, Harrington.” Billy leans his arm against the gate, coming in a little closer. Steve catches the musk of his cologne, the woodiness of the cigarettes he was probably just smoking. “You can’t let a friend in after close?”
“So we’re friends now?”
Billy nods slowly, letting his eyes fall over Steve’s face. “Something like that.”
Steve shakes his head, but moves aside to let Billy into the store before he closes the gate.
As he brings Billy behind the counter for the first time, he’s struck by the darkness of the parlour. The silence. It’s a stark contrast to the usual severe fluorescent lights and incessant buzz of mall goers. Steve feels suddenly uncomfortable to be here, alone with Billy like this. It feels too intimate. He’s never felt like that before. Never felt so out of control.
“Vanilla?”
Billy leans against the counter. “I’ll try something different.”
“Which one?”
“Surprise me.”
Steve considers for a moment, although it’s hard to think, being alone with Billy like this while he looks like that. But Steve decides to scoop up some salted caramel into a cup, and hands it to Billy.
Steve is sick of ice cream, and honestly isn’t sure his stomach would be able to handle it, so he doesn’t get any for himself. He isn’t sure what to do, so he just watches Billy, who’s leaning casually on the counter, sliding the plastic spoon full of caramel into his mouth.
“Aren’t you gonna have some?”
“I’m sick of ice cream,” Steve says.
“You don’t even want a taste?”
Something in Billy’s tone makes Steve’s eyes snap to Billy’s. Billy sucks his spoon clean, eyes dancing as they watch Steve. Steve isn’t sure what Billy sees on his face, but whatever it is, it makes him step forward to set his ice cream on the counter behind Steve, and suddenly Billy is close. Too close. So close Steve can see the specks of green in his eyes.
He stays there, arms trapping Steve against the counter, and before his insides can explode, or before he can lose his nerve, Steve meets him halfway and presses his mouth to Billy’s.
His lips are cold and soft, and when Billy licks into Steve’s mouth, his tongue tastes like caramel. It takes Steve by surprise, and he accidentally gives a soft little moan.
When he pulls back, Billy’s pupils are blown as they flit across Steve’s face, and his lips are pink and swollen. He licks them, as if trying to savour the taste of Steve.
“I think I found my favourite flavour.”
–
It’s about eight weeks into summer, and Steve thinks it might not be that bad afterall.