Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all honesty, Billy was surprised that it had taken him this long to end up in this type of situation. And by which he meant laying on the floor after getting his ass handed to him. His fuse was short enough as it was, and this goddamn hick-town had up and cut it right in half. Nothing but flat ground and cows and cookie-cutter houses that made his head hurt just by looking at them.

All the fights he had gotten into since the move had felt like warm-ups, short scuffles with low-lifers that were leading up to the real thing. The big explosion in which he pushed someone over the edge or got pushed over himself. And apparently today was the day of reckoning. Another tally on the ever-growing list of Billy’s fucked up actions.

So as messed up as the thought was, laying here in the living room of the Byer’s house was the most normal he had felt since California. It might have been the fear talking (his dad was going to end him for this) but it was better than the restless anger that had been living under his skin since they’d loaded up the car and drove halfway across the country. This was a familiar shift back to known territory.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out for, wasn’t even sure what was in that needle Max had stabbed him with. His head hurt, and he hoped it wasn’t rat poison or some shit like that. He would hate to die on Max’s terms. The only person he wanted to dictate his death was his own damn self.

And while he would kill her for jeopardizing that later, right now he needed to haul himself up of the floor and out of this weird-ass house. The drawings on the walls were down-right psychotic if you asked him. Scribbled crayon pictures that gave a childish horror to the papers spanning the length of the house. Max picked the weirdest people to hang out with.

He wasn’t sure where anyone had went, or exactly what had happened after he had beaten the shit out of Harrington. Which, in his defense, the other boy had punched first. If he hadn’t wanted a fight then he shouldn’t have asked for one. Shouldn’t have stared Billy in the eyes and lied straight through his stupid, straight, white, preppy teeth. And if Billy had gone a little too far after that…. well that seemed to be a recurring theme in his life. Regret was a familiar feeling nowadays.

He still felt woozy as he staggered to his feet, stumbling through the empty house and out the front door. The sun had gone down a while ago, and the night air was cool against his half-opened shirt. He stared at the blank space on Byer’s driveway for a solid couple of seconds, wondering if there had been something especially weird in Max’s needle. Because he had left his car right there.

He shoved his hand into his jean pocket, heart stopping when he was met with empty air and denim. Where the hell were his keys? He turned out his other pocket as well, letting out a short laugh when it came up empty as well. No keys and no car. Just great.

The rest of the cars were still parked in front of the house, which meant that Max and her little dork squad had stolen his keys and taken his car. They had knocked him unconscious, stolen his keys, and then taken his car for a joyride. He was an absolute goner.

He let out a loud stream of curses, kicking a rock by his foot and watching with satisfaction as it went sailing into the side of Steve’s car. He hoped it left a dent.

He glanced around the area one more time, making sure this wasn’t just a bad dream he was going to wake up from. And if it wasn’t, that he would actually have to walk home. In the dark. Down this stupid road. He hoped Max had a real good time in his car. Hoped it was worth the absolute beat-down he was going to get for being the irresponsible older brother that let her get a hold of his keys.

He muttered out another curse before starting down the Byer’s driveway. Maybe if he was lucky a car would come from behind and take him out. It would take care of all his problems, that was for sure.

The moon was fully out by the time he was halfway back towards his house, the silvery glow giving him just enough light to not trip on a rock or tree root. The pavement of the road was cracked and ridged in a winding pattern, giving Billy something to focus on as he plodded homewards.

He tried to keep his thoughts simple and focused on walking, not wanting to let himself think of the ways his evening could play out. And as much as he wanted to strangle Max, he hoped that she was okay. Hoped that her and her loser squad had enough common sense to not get murdered. He couldn’t stand the brat, but he didn’t want her to get brutally killed by a hick-town psychopath.

The sound of an engine came from behind him, and he sidestepped off of the road and into the grass. In the distance between now and the Byer’s house he had decided that he would postpone the getting run-over thing for at least a couple more days. Bright headlights washed over him from behind, sending his shadow shooting out in front of him. He kept his eyes forward as it came up beside him, resentment at having to walk surging up and rewrapping around his chest like a vice.

“Hargrove!”

Billy jerked his head to the side, catching sight of his Camaro idling along next to him. His goddamn Camaro. And to top it all off, the Chief of Police was driving it, leaning over the passenger seat to shout at Billy like he was some stray dog. Max was seated in the passenger seat, her skinny arms crossed in front of her as she watched Billy warily.

Confusion and leg-buckling relief warred in his brain as he registered the fact that both his car and Max were not stolen or lying wrecked in a ditch somewhere. He wasn’t going to be stuck at his house with no transportation, unable to escape the suffocating pressure at unholy hours of the morning. And he wasn’t going to get killed by his Dad for letting his step-sister get murdered. Except when he thought about it, bringing her home late—and by a cop no less—wasn’t much better.

Billy stopped walking, forcing the Chief to bring the car to a halt as well. He shifted his glance between Max and the burly looking cop. A flame of anger lit inside his chest. Max knew, she goddamn knew that bringing a cop to their house wouldn’t end well. He still wasn’t sure if she knew just exactly how it would end up, but she was smart enough to know that his dad got pissed over things like that. And an angry Neil was not a fun Neil, no matter how physical it got.

He let his gaze rest on her for a couple moments, hoping that she could feel the heat behind it. “Officer,” he bit out, dragging his gaze up towards the Chief who had stopped the car and was staring at him. He was pretty sure the guy’s name was Hopper.

He had seen the Chief around town before, gotten pulled over a couple times for going a little too fast on the dusty back-roads. He didn’t have anything against the guy, didn’t really give him much thought either. He preferred it that way. Less chance of repercussions.

The Chief was looking at him with furrowed brows, scanning Billy’s face. Billy wasn’t sure how rough he looked, but it was safe to say at least a little banged up. “Get in the car, son. I’m taking you home.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “I think I’m good Officer. You go ahead and take my step-sister home, I’ll be right behind you.”

He didn’t want to be anywhere near his Dad when he opened the door to see the town’s Chief of police bringing Max home. Best to put some distance and time between him and his Dad’s reaction. Besides, there was no need to make his Dad think that he was the one getting in trouble with the law.

“I wasn’t asking,” Hopper said, jerking his thumb towards the back seat. “I don’t want to do this the hard way, but you either get in, or I handcuff you and put you in. It’s almost midnight and there is no way I’m leaving you out here alone.”

Billy clenched his jaw, shoving his hands into his pockets. Well damn. Max sure knew how to get him right where it hurt, didn’t she? Not only late, but a police escort. His dad would have a field day with this one.

“You really know how to make a guy feel appreciated,” Billy drawled, dragging his stare back over to Max. “Keep your panties on Chief, I’ll get in the stupid car.”

She looked away and he felt a little stab of satisfaction as he stalked over, yanking open the car door with more force than necessary. He wasn’t going to make this easy on any of them. Not Max and not the way she looked at this cop like he could be trusted. Billy knew better by now. You didn’t trust anyone that had that type of power.  

“So, Officer,” he asked as they started driving again, leaning forward and bracing his forearms against his knees. “How did you and Max run into each other tonight?”

“Shut up, Billy,” Max snapped, shooting him an irritated look.

Billy gave her a feral smile, practically baring his teeth at her. This night wasn’t going to end well for him, regardless if he played nice. No point wasting his energy on it. “No Maxine, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I have the right to know why I’m being hauled home by a cop. In my car no less. I can’t believe you stole it, you little bitch.”

“Watch your mouth son,” Hopper said, catching Billy’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I found your sister and her friends taking the car for a ride. I’m not hauling you home, I’m making sure you get back home safely. No one is pressing charges on anything, and I’ll explain everything to your folks.”

“Neil’s going to be real happy about this one,” Billy taunted under his breath, watching as Max’s arms grew a little tighter around herself. Satisfied with the effect his words had he leaned back, letting his head rest against the cool leather of his car. If he had to feel the pressure of how Neil was going to react, then she had to feel the pressure too. After all, it was her fault they were in this position.

The car turned left, sending Billy sliding a little towards the right side of the car. He gritted his teeth as the car hit a bump, wanting nothing more than to snap at Hopper to have a little respect for the vehicle.  It felt wrong having someone else drive his car, and his hands were itching to take the wheel from the Chief.

“Your folks still going to be up?”  Hopper asked, oblivious to Billy’s thoughts as he turned onto their street.

“No,” Billy said, his voice overlapping Max’s as she said “Yes.”

Billy stared at her for a second before letting out a sharp laugh. He shouldn’t have even been fucking surprised. She’d never used Neil as payback before, but he guessed that there was a first time for everything. Why be scared of something when you could weaponize it? She was probably so proud of herself for thinking that one up.

Hopper glanced between the two with confusion, easing off the gas to let the car idle. “That wasn’t exactly clear there, you two mind telling me if your parents are up?”

“You heard her Chief,” Billy said, closing his eyes. “The folks are up and waiting.”

There was a heavy silence as Hopper started driving again, and Billy savored it. The heaviness didn’t bother him, he was used to pressure hanging over him. The silence was something to hold on to, that little sense of calm before the storm. It bothered Max though, always made her go quiet and tense when it happened at their house. Sometimes it made him furious when she got upset at that tension. She was never in any danger from it, never had to fear what was on the other side of it. What right did she have to act like it was aimed at her? Her bedroom door kept the danger out.

He wondered if he’d be able to go to school tomorrow. If he’d be able to go outside. He thought back to his dad’s face when he had told him to go find his sister and decided probably not. He’d have to settle with getting blackout drunk at the quarry. It wasn’t the first time he’d have to catch up on a shit-ton of missing school work, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. A couple nervous breakdowns over his grades were inevitable anyways, considering that he was a junior. His dad was just being kind enough to give him some practice.

“Alright, both of you out.”

Billy kept his eyes closed for a couple moments longer, listening to Hopper and Max get out of the car. The doors slammed shut behind them, sending a small tremor through his car. He reached up and swiped a hand under his nose, trying to clean off as much dried blood as he could. He didn’t have a napkin to actually clean with, so he settled for wiping his hand on his pants. Blood stains weren’t really noticeable on dark jeans.

He opened his eyes and sighed, shoving open the car door. He watched Max and the Chief talk to each other as they headed up the walkway to the door, Max’s red hair swishing as she shook her head vehemently at something Hopper said. They were probably figuring out how to put all the blame on him. They didn’t need to bother, Neil would do that for them.

He did a quick glance over of his car when he stepped out, making sure Max hadn’t wrecked anything important. There was a long scratch running from the passenger door to the hood, and a little sour pit opened up in his stomach. He had saved up for months for that paint job. Worked extra hours at his lifeguarding job, begging extra shifts just so he could make one of the only things that was his actually look nice.

He turned away from the car quickly, smashing the wounded feeling in his chest. He didn’t have room for that. He trudged up to the door as the Chief knocked on it, making sure to keep himself out of arm’s reach. They only had to wait a couple seconds before the door was flung open, an irate looking Neil filling up the doorway. Susan was flitting behind him, wringing her hands and peering over his shoulder to get a better look.

“Oh, Max!” she cried, “Thank God!”

Hopper cleared his throat, resting his hands on the front of his belt. “I found the kids wandering out about town pretty late, and I figured you’d want them back home safe.”

“I’m really sorry,” Max said sweetly, widening her eyes as she looked at Neil. It was a tried and true trick, one that had gotten her out of trouble time and time again. Billy would have appreciated the skill more if the results didn’t come out of his ass. “I left to go hang out with some of my friends, and I completely lost track of time. And Mrs. Wheeler’s phone is broken so I couldn’t call. I really didn’t mean to be out this late.”

“You worried us sick, honey,” Neil said, accepting the excuse and stepping aside to make room in the doorway. “You knew you weren’t supposed to go out, especially when Billy is supposed to be watching you. You’re lucky nothing happened. Go on inside to Mom and get ready for bed.”

Max nodded, glancing back at Hopper before sliding past Neil. She was smothered by Susan as soon as she stepped foot in the door, getting whisked away to her room almost instantly. Probably to recover from her traumatic evening or some other bullshit like that. It was a wonder she could even breathe, the way Susan was hovering over her.

As soon as she was gone Neil turned his full focus back to Hopper, jerking his chin towards Billy. “And where’d you find him? Getting drunk? Looks like he got in a fight.”

Billy grinned, tilting his chin up slightly. “I got a little distracted. That’s my bad.”

A muscle in his dad’s jaw ticked, and he pointed inside the house. “You get your ass inside this house right now, boy.”

Billy turned to Hopper and gave a little salute. “Appreciate the ride home Chief. I was probably a little too wasted to drive home by myself anyway. You know what they say about driving under the influence.”

And if that wasn’t pouring gasoline straight into the fire. But this cycle was familiar, expected. He screwed up, he got his ass handed to him. And if Max really wanted to land him in hot water, well she had done a pretty bang up job. The water was boiling.

Hopper frowned, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “Mr. Hargrove, your son wasn’t under the influ-”

“Thank you Officer, I think I can handle it from here,” Neil said lowly, staring daggers into Billy. “My son and I are going to have a talk about responsibility and following rules.” He looked back up at Hopper as Billy walked into the house, giving him a tight smile. “Have a good rest of your night Officer.”

The wrinkle between Hopper’s eyebrows didn’t dissipate but he simply nodded, tipping his hat to Neil. “I’m here if you need it, you have a good night as well.”

Neil closed the front door with a silent click, the house seeming to shrink in on them. Billy couldn’t escape now if he tried. He turned to face the door and rocked back on his heels, watching his dad watch him. It was like a volcano. Now he just had to wait for the eruption.

“I told you to go find your sister.”

Billy shrugged, looking down at his nails. He picked at the hangnail on his right pointer finger, yanking it off with force. “I did find her.”

His dad was across the room and in his face in an instant, fisting the front of Billy’s shirt and slamming him backward into the wall. Billy wondered if Max could hear the thud from her room.

“No, a goddamn cop found her!” Neil shouted, his face turning red. “And then had to drag your sorry ass home, because apparently you can’t follow basic, goddamn instructions! Do you know how embarrassing that is!? Do you!?”

Billy kept his shoulders straight, pretending the way Neil was holding his collar didn’t cause it to dig into his neck. “Pretty embarrassing, I guess.”

Neil’s eye twitched and Billy wondered if he had gone a little too far. He’d be on the floor soon enough, the snappy retorts thoroughly beaten out of him. But mouthing off gave him a fleeting sense of control, let him at least feel like he was strong enough to stand up to his dad. It was all that he had, even if it didn’t last.

Neil backhanded Billy with enough force to send him stumbling sideways, his shoulder colliding with the china cabinet to his left, sending the whole thing shaking. Neil’s hand grabbed Billy’s chin and yanked him back into position, his fingers digging into Billy’s jaw like a vice. Billy pulled in a shaky breath and swallowed the metallic coppery taste that had just flooded his mouth. There went the volcano.

“You’re going to walk yourself to your room and wait there for me, do you understand?” Neil asked lowly, his voice dangerously quiet.

“Whatever you want.”

Neil pulled Billy forward and then slammed him against the wall again, his hand pressed tightly against the base of Billy’s throat. “I said do you goddamn understand!?”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, wincing as his Dad grabbed his shoulder and shoved him in the direction of his room. Neil was livid, Billy could see it in the set of his jaw, and a nasty part of him was glad. Glad that someone was going to finish what he had started earlier that night. Neil made it perfectly clear that repentance had to be beaten into Billy, and right now Billy didn’t feel a damn bit of it. 

He rolled his shoulder as he walked past Max’s closed door. It was going to bruise, his dad had dug his fingers in with a grip that spelled fury. He pushed open his bedroom door and froze, a sour feeling rising in his chest as he looked at his room. It had been ransacked, everything on his dresser shoved to the floor and his drawers emptied out on top. Even his bed was undone, the sheets and blankets tangled up in a heap on the floor.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pressing the heels of his hand against his eyes to push back tears of frustration. He sat down on his empty bed, taking a few moments to push down the anger rising in his chest. He hated when his dad pulled this shit. It was a power trip, meant to make Billy feel inferior, and he tried hard not to let it get to him. But goddamn, did it work.

He took a bracing breath and raked his hair back out of his face. He glanced around his room, trying to pick out any valuables or things of importance from his war zone of a floor. His dad liked to break shit when he was mad, and it was safe to say that a lot of Billy’s things hidden underneath his clothes were in more pieces than he had left them in. He shoved off his bed and kicked around his clothes, snatching up the unbroken records and cologne bottles he liked. He lifted his bed skirt, shoving them deep under his bed. It was as safe as it was going to get.

The rest of his stuff he dumped in a pile in the corner of his room, and whatever he saw that was broken in his trash. He’d have to organize and put it all away later, but he didn’t have the time or energy to do it now. Besides, he didn’t think he was ready to see how much more of his personal shit was ruined beyond repair.

He leaned sideways, looking into the mirror on his wall. He raised an eyebrow at his appearance, taking in the rumpled shirt and dried blood under his nose. There was a small bruise forming on his cheekbone, and he ran his tongue over the cut on his bottom lip. Not as bad as he had thought, that was for sure.

The record player was on in the living room, and he could hear Susan’s awful music from his room. That 50’s crap, the one where the trumpet kept going for what sounded like half the damn song. He started pacing, kicking his desk leg as he passed by. This was almost the worst part of pissing his dad off, the restless waiting for the inevitable. The anger and the anxiety always went head to head in the minutes before, and it made him want to punch a hole through his wall. Not that he would. His dad had made sure that he had done that once and only once.

He sat back down on his bed, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the bedspread. He wondered what that cop would have done if he had asked him not to talk to his dad. To just drop him off, because his dad wouldn’t react very well to him being dragged home by a cop. Probably nothing. He probably would have enjoyed getting to explain to Neil just exactly what type of trouble Billy had gotten himself into. Maybe would have exaggerated it if Max had told him that he had knocked Harrington unconscious.

His door pulled open and he looked up, startled that he hadn’t heard any footsteps. Usually he was more aware of his surroundings. Especially if they involved Neil. His brain was primed to recognize the sound of his dad’s footsteps. The heavy footfalls followed him into his nightmares.

His dad’s body filled the doorway, his hands across his chest and a cold look already etched onto his face. He stepped just inside Billy’s room, closing the door softly behind him with one hand. Because of course they didn’t want to upset the rest of the house. God forbid if Max was bothered by Billy’s disobedience and disrespect.

“Get up,” Neil ordered softly, his hands now resting on his hips. They were positioned right above his black leather belt, and Billy was trying not to think about how much he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it tonight. Not with his chest tight and his head dizzy.

He stood back up, subconsciously pulling back his shoulders to be as straight as possible. All strict lines and “yes sir” when facing his dad. That was the rule around here. This was when Billy stopped mouthing off and headed into self-preservation mode. Military posture it was, hands behind the back like he was the one who went to war and came back twisted in all the wrong places.

He stood there in silent anticipation, the heavy weight of his Dad’s gaze pinning him to the floor. Now was the time that the regret and apologies started to crowd his brain for an appearance. There was something about the disdain in his Dad’s stare that made him feel two feet tall. Like an ant that was about to get smashed under the heel of his dad’s work boot.

“You’re going to be staying home the next couple of days,” Neil started, taking a step towards Billy, backing him up towards the wall. “There are chores around this house that need to be done, and I think that taking the time to do them will be a good lesson on responsibility in this household.”

Billy’s gut twisted, sending a bitter taste rising up his throat. Chores meant a lesson that would leave visible marks, a lesson that would leave him feeling the aftermath for a couple days. And since he had just gotten into a fight, his Dad would have no problem going for the face. Not if he already had a convenient cover story for why his son’s face was about to look like it went a couple rounds in the ring. Billy’s mind flashed to the bottle of whiskey that he had stashed under the backseat of his Camaro. Drowning himself in alcohol was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.

“What about Max?” he asked, his chest growing tight.

His dad raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Who’s going to drive her to school?”

Neil looked at him like he was stupid, and Billy subconsciously pulled his shoulders in a little. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t even that dumb of a question.

“You’re going to get your lazy ass up in the morning, drive your sister to school, and then turn around and come straight home to pull your weight around here. What part of that was hard to figure out?”

“Fine. None of it.”

“I swear to God, Billy. You are trying my patience tonight.”

“I didn’t even sa-”

Billy was cut-off as Neil smacked him hard across the mouth, raising an eyebrow as if he dared Billy to keep talking. Billy inhaled sharply, trying to push back the pressure that was building behind his eyes again. He needed to get it together, if he started crying now he’d really fucking regret it.

Neil’s eyebrow shot up even further. “I better not see you start any of that goddamn whining and crying shit. I will slap that look right off your face, do you understand me? You’re not going to act like a pansy under my roof.”

“I’m not fucking crying,” Billy snapped, his voice tight.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Neil said, raising his voice slightly and taking a step closer to Billy. “It is two in the goddamn morning, and now I have to deal with this mess, because apparently I have the stupidest goddamn idiot on the planet for a son. So damn stupid he can’t do the one thing I ask him. Are you listening to me?”

Billy flinched as Neil snapped his fingers in Billy’s face, trying his hardest not to take a step back. That was just asking for it.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything difficult. Yet you persistently show me that you can’t handle a single responsibility. And we have had this conversation over and over again. So don’t you dare sit there and pull that whining shit. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Billy stood frozen as Neil finished his lecture, breathing shakily but not crying. He wasn’t going to fucking cry. He raised his chin a little higher and looked Neil in the eyes, trying to force that confidence his dad approved of. Flaunt your wins and never let the other person see your weaknesses. That was what Neil had told him when he started basketball, the firm grip on Billy’s shoulder telling him that this was a lesson that carried over into every aspect of his life.

Billy didn’t know what Neil saw in his face, but apparently it wasn’t good enough because Neil just nodded, his hands going towards his belt buckle. He slid it out of the loops with a brisk yank, the leather making a slithering sound against the loops of his jeans. “Okay then. Let’s get this over with.”

Billy closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, letting himself float away into the quiet place in his mind. He hoped Max slept real damn good tonight.

Chapter Text

Billy glared at the alarm clock on his dresser, the blinking numbers searing themselves into the back of his eyes. Maybe if he stared at it long enough he’d get a seizure and avoid having to drive Max to school. He wouldn’t even have to drag himself out of bed. He could just lay here, unconscious; hoping the seizure he had would fix the raging headache he was currently sporting.

He groaned, grabbing his pillow and hurling it at the offending clock. It gave a pitiful beep as it crashed into the wall and then to the floor, shattering the corner of the cheap plastic case. The shards of plastic scattered across the floor by his dresser, and he wondered how long he would be able to leave them there before his Dad saw it and made him clean it up. A day? Maybe two?

Harsh banging on his door interrupted his train of thought, and he winced at the sound of his name being angrily shouted through the wood. “Billy! You better be ready to drive Max to school in 10 minutes!”

“Yessir,” Billy called back, hoping his Dad would hurry up and leave for work already. Forcing himself out of his room was hard enough without Neil suffocating the house with his overbearing presence.  In fact, the less Billy had to interact with his Dad the better.

He dragged a hand roughly over his face, trying to shake himself awake. Susan had some pain meds in the cabinet from when she sprained her wrist, and if he was quiet he’d be able to grab a handful while everyone was out of the house. And the way his sides were protesting any movement meant he was going to fucking need them.

He dragged himself out of his bed and to the dresser, rolling his shoulder to try to get rid of the stiffness. He passed by his mirror, his overhead fan light bringing out the dark shadows and bruises brushing his jaw and cheekbones. He glanced down at his clock, tilting his head to read what time it was. 5 more minutes. He looked back at his reflection, rubbing away a small patch of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. He probably looked about the same as Steve now, if he thought about it. It might work out to his favor, make it seem like the fight had messed him up just as much as it had Steve. Not great for his reputation, but stellar for his cover story.

But then again, it wasn’t like he was going to be going back to school anytime soon, so who the fuck cared. The only people who would be seeing him for the next couple of days were Max, Susan, and his Dad. So screw his face. Screw everything.

He pulled on a t-shirt from the pile he had created last night and dragged a comb through his hair, letting out choice words as the teeth ripped through the tangled curls. It was moments like these that made him question his stylistic choices. When his hair was passable he turned away from the mirror and pulled open his door, reaching down to grab his jacket from where it was crumpled by the doorframe. “MAX!” he shouted, pulling the jacket on as he stalked out of his room. “Time to go!”

“I’m right here,” she snapped, sticking her head into the hallway from the kitchen. “I shouldn-” She trailed off as she took in Billy’s appearance, her brows knitting together over her forehead.

Billy was not in the mood to deal with Max or her stupid fucking questions. He ignored her expression, storming down the hallway and swiping his keys off of the hall table. “Get in the damn car.”

She snapped her mouth shut and nodded, pulling back into the kitchen. Billy didn’t bother to wait around for her, letting the door slam behind him as he took in his car. He automatically gave it a cursory once-over, trying to use the daylight to see if there was any major damage. The long scratch was still there, but besides that it looked like it had survived whatever the hell Max and her friends had done to it.

“Sorry about that scratch,” Max said, causing Billy to jump a foot in the air. The little shit was like a ghost sometimes. She tucked her hair behind her ears like she hadn’t just given him a heart attack and walked around the side of the car, glancing up at Billy when she opened the door. “Are we going now?”

Billy glared at her, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. “Yeah we’re going, shitbird. Will you give me a damn minute?”

Max tilted her head and stared at him for a couple seconds, an odd look on her face. “What?” Billy snapped, the cigarette clamped between his teeth. He didn’t want a smoke, he just wanted something to hold on to. He didn’t like smoking in the car with Max anyway, it wasn’t worth having to listen to her bitch about his secondhand smoke.

Max didn’t answer, and slid into the passenger seat quietly. Billy rolled his eyes, making sure to slam the car door behind him as he got in. Goddamn Max and her goddamn cryptic faces she liked to make. He didn’t know why she couldn’t just say what was on her stupid brain, instead of making weird faces like that. Like he didn’t have enough going on his life already.

“Better not be late today,” Billy said, reaching over to the volume dial to crank the music. His ‘rock ‘n’ roll shit’ cassette was what he had jammed in there yesterday morning, and he figured there was no better way to drown out Max’s persistent staring.

Max reached over as soon as they were out of the neighborhood, turning down the dial until his music was almost inaudible. “Hey, what the hell!?” Billy shouted, slapping her hand away. Not touching his music was the unspoken rule of the car, and she had just gone and stomped on it. “Don’t touch my goddamn music!”

“What happened to your face?”

Billy jerked his head over to look at her, almost running the car off the side of the road in the process. He cursed, yanking the steering wheel back into the right position and instead opted to shoot Max a quick glare. “Mind your damn business, Max.”

“Steve didn’t do that,” Max said, ignoring Billy’s warning. “I saw you last night. He hit you like twice.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So where did you get the bruises from?”

“How’d you ruin the paint job on my car?” He shot back, suddenly furious with her.

The stop sign ahead was approaching quickly and Billy pressed the gas down harder. For all the times that he wanted Max to pull her head out of her ass and realize what was going on, he hadn’t really wanted to destroy whatever innocence she had. He just wanted her to stop making Neil mad, not to start looking at Neil with the same fear that he looked at him with.

Max ignored the question. “Did your──did your dad do that?”

The words were quiet, almost whispered. Billy doesn’t have to look at Max to know she’s looking at him with that wide-eyed stare of hers. He clenched the steering wheel a little tighter and let out a bitter little laugh. Guess he should have expected her to find out soon anyway. Usually he could excuse his injuries by saying it was a fight, some backyard scuffle with a guy from school. But she had seen this one go down, seen the damage with her own eyes.

“Nah, I decided to give myself a black eye,” Billy said coldly, shifting in his seat. “Right after me and the old man had a nice little conversation about my responsibilities in this household.”

“Ohmygod,” Max breathed out, her words blurring together. “Billy, you gotta tell someone.”

It shook him a little, if he was going to be honest. The painfully naïve way in which she said the sentence. He remembered when he used to be like that. 9 year-old Billy curled up in a corner of his room wishing somebody, anybody, would learn that he was hurting and take him away. He couldn’t have been that invisible, could he?

He’d started to act careless, rolling up his long sleeves to let a little of Neil’s handiwork show. He hadn’t wanted Neil to get arrested or anything, he didn’t want to get taken away to live in some shoddy foster home. He just wanted Neil to stop looking at him like there was something messed up and wrong inside him. Like there was a reason he cracked his hand across Billy’s face more often than he smiled at him.

And then Billy got a little too careless, wore short sleeves one too many times. His dream was crushed before he could even process what was happening, a well-meaning teacher reporting Billy’s bruises, leading to a home-visit from CPS. Turns out Neil was a great liar, and the only thing Billy got out of his teacher’s concern was a broken arm and a stabbing pain in the side when he breathed too deeply.

He hated to be the one to crush Max’s vision of the world, to be the one to let her know that people didn’t give a damn. The world liked to knock you down and keep you there, and the only way you were going to get back on your feet was to punch harder.

“Not going to happen Max,” Billy said, turning into the school parking lot. “You’re not going to tell a single person a single goddamn thing. You understand that?”

Max gaped at him, one hand clenched tightly around the strap of her backpack. “Billy, he hit you.”

“Genius observation on your part,” Billy drawled, turning the ignition off. “Only took you like six years. You’re going to be late if you just sit here, get out of my car.”

“Why did he do that? Billy, why would he do that?”

“Well you see Maxine, he was real appreciative of the fact that we came home with a cop. Oh, and also you sneaking out. He loved that part.”

 Max was still staring at him, the horror of the situation starting to creep into her features. He wondered if she was usually this slow on the uptake. “Does mom know?"

"Susan?" Billy asked with a laugh. He propped his feet up on the dash and gave Max an incredulous look. "Why do you think she makes you go out on so many errands with her? Do yourself a favor and pretend it never happened."

Max leaned back against the car door, still staring at him like her dog had just died. Max didn’t even have a stupid dog. He really hoped she didn’t start crying. He hated it when she cried.

"But-He can’t just do that to you Billy, I'm going to tell him to stop. I’ll get Mom to stop him."

Billy's feet were off the dash in an instant, his hand shooting out to wrap around Max's wrist in a death grip. "You stay the hell away from him Max. And you keep your damn mouth shut. If I wanted your help I would have asked for it."

“Mom can tell him to stop,” Max repeated, her words growing desperate. “I’ll tell her what Neil’s doing and then she’ll get him to stop it.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, both impressed and concerned at the level of trust Max held in her mother. “Are you deaf? Susan doesn’t give a shit about me, Max. And you think my Dad would listen to her? If your mom was smart she’d take you and get the hell away from Neil. Don’t do anything, I’m warning you.”

Max jerked her arm out of his grip, tears welling in the corner of her eyes. "But what if he hits you again?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Billy muttered, banging his head against the steering wheel. This was not the type of conversation he wanted to have in a school parking lot. Especially not when she was crying.

He wished Max would just go back to hating him already. This new wave of pity shit was making his skin crawl.  And Max was smart, but she was also a little blind to the way the world worked. If she decided to go spouting off to her cop friend.... well that wasn't exactly something Billy desired in life.

"Listen up Maxine," he started, turning in his seat to give her his full attention. "I get that you're a naive little girl who thinks the world is all rainbows and unicorn farts. It's adorable. And since I have no desire to break that little delusion, you're going to pretend like last night never happened. And you're definitely not going to run to your little cop buddy. Or I will run your skateboard through a wood chipper. Now get out of the damn car."

Max swiped a hand angrily across her eyes, shoving the door open. "I'm just trying to help! It’s not fair!" She slammed the door behind her before Billy could answer, storming off with her skateboard hugged tight to her chest.

Billy let out a stream of curses, punching his dashboard hard enough to make his knuckles hurt. This wasn’t supposed to be how it would go. She wasn’t supposed to get all touchy-feely, wasn’t supposed to want to run her mouth to the nearest cop. One rough night with Neil, and all of a sudden he had to worry about fending off adults again. He hadn’t had that problem since elementary school, when he hadn’t learned to make up good excuses.

He slammed the gear shift into reverse, peeling out of the Hawkins School parking lot with a squeal of burning rubber and a burning anger in his chest. He floored the gas, letting out a wild laugh at the straight stretch of road in front of him. For all of Hawkins’ garbage-dump faults, he had to admit that its roads were something he could get used to. Nothing but cows and cornfields to watch him double the speed-limit, tearing through the town like a speed demon.

He dropped his foot down on the brake hard, pulling the steering wheel to the left as he practically drifted through the dirt-road intersection. A lone stop-sign rattled in the dust-cloud he kicked up, and he flipped it off as he sped by. He didn’t have to stop for anything, especially not a place like hick-town Indiana.

The scattering of roofs rising up over the horizon told him his location and he eased off the gas. He was self-destructive not suicidal, and speeding through a suburban neighborhood would only get him a neighbor’s complaint to the police station. And for all that he lost control, ending up in the slammer was something that he never wanted to do. Self-destructive tendencies only went so far, and that particular one was bordering on suicidal.

His house rose up from the left and he coasted to the side of the road, haphazardly parking on the curb. He was crooked, and might get shit for it later from Neil, but it felt right. There were no cars in the driveway, meaning that he had the house all to himself. He checked his watch. 8 hours until Neil got home, only 6 till Susan did. He mentally ran through his chores as he unlocked the front door, trying to figure out how quickly he could get them done.

Neil was always purposely vague when it came to chores. And since falling short of Neil’s' ridiculously high expectations had particularly painful consequences, Billy ended up cleaning practically the entire house on punishment days. At least it was great practice for when he finally had his own place to clean. Though he wouldn’t make as much of a mess that Neil and Susan did. Newspapers and beer cans stacked precariously by the couch, almost toppling into the pile of home gardening magazines. He still wasn’t sure why Susan bought them, she killed every plant she touched.

Luckily, he had done this enough times that he had a science to it. He knew the chores that made the most visual difference, and what order he should get things done to maximize his time. It wouldn't be fun, but he could get it done.

He threw a heavy metal record onto the player, turning up the volume to full blast. There was no one to yell at him for his music. Not when the house was empty like this.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of any soreness from last night. The cleaning supplies were in the closet to his right, and he yanked it open with a purpose. Susan had put the shelf together when they had first moved in, the bottles of bleach and piles of rags giving the illusion of the perfect housewife.

Billy could almost laugh at the thought. The only thing that Susan did around the house was the cooking. The cleaning was mostly him, and you could usually tell when Billy was in deep shit. Because the house had been dusted. At this point, Billy wasn’t sure why they bothered keeping all the supplies in a closet. Shoving them in his room would be more effective. It would save him a 30-second walk to the closet that was for sure.

He pulled out a bottle of bleach and a couple old rags, getting to work with a determination. The bleach was strong, and it stung his eyes like a bitch. But complaining got him nowhere in this household, so bleach was what he was stuck with. A pounding headache wasn’t that terrible of a trade-off anyway. He was used to those, especially after he had one drink too many at a party or one snarky retort too many with his Dad. He could handle bleach.

It took him four hours and a crick in his back, but Billy eventually worked his way through an entire house’s worth of cleaning. The dishes were done, the yard mowed, the garage organized, the shelves dusted, and the garbage taken out. Not to mention his room. Neil got anal about his room being spotless when he was in trouble, so Billy made sure to clean his room until it practically shined. He hated it. It never looked like his room when he was done.

He shoved the bleach back into the closet, knocking over a stack of paper towels. Buy one get one at the local grocery store. Susan loved that shit. The stacks of canned soup and vegetables in the pantry was a testament to it. Rows and rows of goddamn cans, all shiny metal and sealed lids. Nothing he could stash in his room if Neil told him to skip a couple meals. Useless.

He was out of the house and into the car with only a quick glance at the kitchen clock. 4 hours until Neil got back, which gave him roughly 3 hours of freedom before he had to go pick up Max. 3 hours to shoot the breeze and pretend he wasn’t stuck in this hick town in the middle of nowhere. Wasn’t he living the luxurious life?

The 3 hours passed by unfairly quickly, the cheap bottle of whiskey doing nothing to slow down time. He stopped himself after he started to get a little buzzed, not wanting to show any proof of his afternoon activities. Neil was scarily good at figuring out if Billy had been drunk or not, and he wasn’t interested in pushing his luck tonight. Not when his side still hurt like a bitch, and his head felt like someone had run it over with a steamroller.

He made sure to pick Max up exactly on time, all responsible and mature like. He sat in his room for the rest of the night, only coming out to sit straight at the dinner table and thank Susan for the delicious meal she had made. He analyzed the swelling on his face in the mirror, trying to estimate how much longer he would be stuck in this house. He predicted a week, and he really hoped he was right. He couldn’t take much more than that.

Chapter Text

Billy stayed home the rest of the week, dusting the cabinets and sweeping the floors with a fervor that kept him from going insane. He usually didn’t bother staying home after a run-in with Neil, it was hard to keep grades up if he was skipping constantly, but this was one of those times he knew that the state of his face would only draw negative attention.

Not even Billy’s rough-and-tumble reputation could cover these marks. This town was only so big, and people found out real fast where the big fights were. So if Billy showed up at school looking like he’d gone ten rounds in the ring, things didn’t line up right. Even if it didn’t line up in only a couple people’s minds. Even one was more than enough.

And Neil was real goddamn particular on cover stories, which meant that Billy had better be real goddamn particular as well. On the bright side, he’d only have to wait a week or so, and it wasn’t like Harrington, or the Chief or anyone else would really care what Billy was up to or looking by like by that point.

The house was stifling by the time Friday rolled around, the beige walls seeming to shrink in on him every day he was stuck inside. One day these walls would make him lose it. Squeeze in on him until he couldn’t stand it. Then he’d snap. Push his dad too far and end up dead. Buried 6 feet under the goddamn Hawkins corn fields.

His Dad gave him permission to go back to school after the weekend, the bruises fading enough to brush off, and he could have cried. The relief was almost a physical feeling, swelling in his chest until he could almost breathe it in. He wasn’t stupid enough to let that show in front of his dad, but in reality it was one of the only things keeping him sane and alive. 8 hours a day away from Neil with a free meal included? Billy couldn’t think of a single reason not to be thankful.

He ignored the relieved look that Max gave him when he parked the car instead of leaving it running to drive off. He hated that the tension was draining out of her shoulders over his well-being, and he hated that he could read her well enough to notice it. He glared at her when she stared at him a little too long, jerking his head in the direction of the middle school. “Get out of my car dipshit.”

Max just rolled her eyes at him—the audacity—and slid out of the car with a smile. “See you after school Billy.”

“Whatever,” Billy muttered, reaching over to shut the door behind her. She could smile like that all day long if it kept her out of his business. He opened up his glove compartment, pulling out a pack of smokes. There were only a couple cigarettes left, meaning he was going to have to make a pit stop by the gas station soon. Just great.

And no one in this stupid town cared about ID either. Which meant his fake ID that he had bought back in Cali when he was 14 was useless here. He had begged Mitch (the guy under the pier who sold them) for weeks until he finally sold him one. He had saved up for months, dreaming of all the ways he could use it to get wasted on weekends when his Dad stayed at work late. And now it was goddamn useless. In this goddamn useless town.

He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, fishing around his pocket for his lighter. The metal was cold in his hand as he lit the cigarette, and he tossed the lighter carelessly on the passenger seat. He wouldn’t be able to find it later, but right now he didn’t give a shit.

He sat there for a couple minutes, taking long drags from the cigarette in his hand. Getting here a couple minutes early to enjoy the solitary silence was something that he purposely did ever since they moved here. It was one of the only times during the weekdays that he could sit and just think, without having to worry about getting interrupted by other people. It was a godsend.

The school bell tore its way through his silence with an obnoxious ringing, shattering whatever semblance of peace he had managed to conjure. He muttered out a string of words that would get him backhanded at home, stubbing his cigarette out on the dashboard. Time to face the masses.

He rounded the back of his car when the rumbling of a car engine caught his attention. Harrington’s BMW rolled in next to him, just on time like it always was. Harrington was out of the car and headed towards the school with only a quick glance at Billy, something that gave him a grudging respect for the King of Hawkins. Walking straight past the guy who had just recently beat your face in took guts, something it seemed Harrington had plenty of.

He huffed a smirk, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked towards the double doors. Well this would be interesting. He had expected Harrington to be all jumpy, skittish like most of the other guys he happened to cross fists with. But him not giving a shit? That was almost the best outcome he could ask for. Forget it and move on was the motto of Billy’s fights, and it would be nice for someone to follow it for once.

Tommy H. and his posse were on top of him as soon as he stepped foot inside the building, their eager expectant faces almost comical. Rough pats on the back and crude jokes were the welcome back gift, a stream of congratulations at his handiwork on Harrington’s face. The fact that both he—and Steve until a day ago he just learned—had been out of school for the past week didn’t seem to register in their thick heads. If they had seen Billy’s face at the same time that they had seen Harrington’s, they would have assumed that Harrington had mopped the floor with Billy’s face and then gone back for round two. But as it was, he had a reputation to uphold, so the testosterone filled shoulder punches of support were tolerated.

He slid right into the role expected of him, slapping a cocky smile across his face like it fit there. He leered with the best of them, retelling the fight as expected and exaggerating all the right parts. It wasn’t long before a small crowd grew around him, everyone in the near vicinity wanting to hear about the killer fight that he and Harrington had gotten into. Apparently Harrington hadn’t volunteered any information, and the people were starving for details.

The rumors were outlandish and wild, ranging from stolen girlfriends to grand auto theft. Billy shot down the stupid ones, strategically ignored the ones he didn’t mind, and played up the ones that benefitted him. Truth just got in his way, and he had enough obstacles already. Not like Harrington would mind anyway. He wasn’t encouraging anything damaging to the guy’s already ruined reputation.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall halfway through yet another description of the beginning of the fight, catching sight of Harrington in the process. He was standing off by himself, staring at Billy with an intense look in his eyes. Billy faltered in his story, suddenly incredibly conscious of the way that he was standing and talking. Harrington just stared, as if Billy’s thoughts were written on his face and he was trying to understand what they meant. It was unnerving.

Billy tore his gaze away, and launched shakily back into his description. Goddamn Harrington. It was probably where Max got her weird-ass piercing looks from. He was probably the head of a cult that brainwashed middle schoolers into joining and then taught them how to stare into their brother’s soul. It would make sense.

The bell sent the crowd scattering into classrooms, his impromptu show over almost as quickly as it had begun. He let the smile fall off his face as soon as he was alone in the empty hallway and spun the combination lock on his locker. He was never on time to first period, an easy way to get teachers and students to write him off as someone who didn’t care about school, which gave him a couple extra minutes to breathe. He grabbed his language arts textbook from his locker, slamming the door closed with a satisfying clang.

“Do you always have to slam doors? Or do you just enjoy annoying everyone in the general vicinity?”

Billy jumped and spun around, glaring at Harrington. “Shove off Harrington.”

It was a little off-brand for him, more defensive than aggressive, but he had been caught off guard. Not enough time to throw up the mask, and you got a Billy that he preferred to keep hidden. Steve seemed to sense this, and his posture lost some of the aggression.

Billy really, really did not have the time or energy for this today. He didn’t know what the hell Harrington’s deal was, but he needed to keep his intense looks to himself. “What the hell do you want?” he asked, leaning back against his locker.

Steve shrugged, readjusting the backpack hanging off one shoulder. “That wasn’t how the fight went down.”

Billy narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “Yeah? You got a problem with it?”

“No, I was just wondering why you made it seem like I gave as good as I got. Doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “It’s more entertaining dipshit. Would you rather I go around telling them that I wiped the floor with your face?”

Steve stiffened but kept the same calm, amicable expression on his face. “I didn’t say that.”

“Ok, whatever.” Billy said, giving Harrington a sarcastic salute. “See you around I guess.”

“I didn’t do that.” Steve blurted out, waving his hand at Billy’s face.

Billy blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. “No shit, pretty boy. You got maybe one good hit in the whole fight.”

“Well then who did that?”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “Why? Jealous or something?”

Steve frowned. “No, just a little concerned. You were out for a week.”

Billy let out an incredulous laugh. “Concerned? Harrington, I beat the shit out of your face. I then went and beat the shit out of someone who could actually fight back. Take the hint and leave me the fuck alone.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond but Billy was done with this conversation. He flipped Harrington off and started backing away. “I said fuck off.”

Goddamn it. Not even half an hour back and Harrington was already messing with his head. He was an airhead, a washed up ex-popular kid who didn’t pay attention to anything but himself. Billy had been banking on that stereotype, as Harrington was the only thing that went against his alibi. He didn’t know what the hell he was playing at, but it needed to stop. Sooner rather than later.

He was distracted walking into class, so much so that he didn’t even bother entertaining the class with a sarcastic excuse to his teacher, simply sliding into his seat with a frown. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this new side of Harrington. If he was supposed to do anything with it. It was dangerous, that’s what it was. Questions never lead to anything good.

He made sure to avoid Harrington the rest of the day, taking different hallways so he wouldn’t pass him on the way to class. Was it immature and childish? Hell yes. Neil would rip him a new one if he heard his son was going out of his way to avoid someone like a pansy. But he didn’t have the energy to do it today. Not on his first day back.

Lunch was tense and uncomfortable, and Tommy’s loud voice—usually annoying, but today grating—seemed to stab his eardrums like a volley of knives. Would he ever shut up? He was jumpier than normal, glancing over at Steve’s table every couple minutes to make sure he wasn’t watching him. Eventually he recognized that he was the one being creepy, and stopped, but it was almost painful to not turn his head and watch his back.

He muttered some excuse about going to get a smoke, rolling the apple he had swiped from the pantry when Neil hadn’t been paying attention towards one of the guys. He didn’t have the stomach for food. It was almost concerning how earth rattling Steve’s observation was to him. He didn’t know anything, couldn’t possible know anything, but the fact that he noticed things weren’t adding up was terrifying. He’d gotten used to people not caring, to being able to pass off every scratch and bruise with a flimsy excuse.

“Pull your shit together Hargrove,” he muttered to himself, leaning against the bleachers. Steve’s observation didn’t mean shit. It just proved that he was observant, and that Billy’s excuses were going to have to get a little more fortified. He needed to calm down. A couple bruises didn’t scream “my dad beats on me”.

Besides, he was probably only this rattled because Max had put together the puzzle pieces a couple days ago. It was the thought of another person figuring him out that was scary, not the actual threat. He was good. He was fine. Nothing was going to change and he needed to stop staring at Harrington like a creep. Simple as that.

He pulled another cigarette out of his pocket before remembering that he had tossed his lighter onto the passenger seat. “Shit,” he muttered, shoving the pack back into his pocket but keeping the cigarette between his lips. If the thought of seeing Tommy’s face didn’t want to make him puke he’d be asking Tommy for a light, but it did, so he was stuck with an unlit cigarette.

He rolled the cigarette between his lips, trying to ground himself into the present moment. His brain was still trying to run his and Steve’s earlier interaction over and over, and he was ready to shove it to the back of his mind. In fact, from now on he wasn’t going to acknowledge Harrington at all today. 

His newfound resolution lasted until 7th period, where he sat next to Harrington in history class. U.S History to be exact, not that it mattered. He was planning on ignoring Steve like he had been all day, resolving to only acknowledge him if it was absolutely necessary. He usually spent that class goofing off, throwing paper balls and kicking the legs of Steve’s chair, but he just wasn’t in the mood. Being the class clown took effort. More than he had.

Unfortunately, not disrupting the class seemed to draw Steve’s attention even further than before. He could feel Steve’s eyes on his back the entire fucking lesson. He kept shooting Harrington side glares, trying to tell him to leave him the fuck alone. But Steve was blind, stupid, or just plain stubborn and the incessant staring continued. It was 100% where Max had gotten it from.

He yanked out a sheet of paper, scribbling down SEE SOMETHING YOU LIKE? STOP STARING AT ME OR ILL BASH YOUR FACE IN AGAIN before folding it into a square. He tossed it onto Steve’s desk when the teacher wasn’t looking, making sure to shoot him a dirty look in the process.

He glued his eyes to the board at the front of the class and felt, rather than heard, the frown that was sent his direction. Harrington could suck it. He flipped him off without looking, feeling a smug satisfaction when the feeling of eyes on his back disappeared.

He started to relax as the clock inched towards dismissal, each minute like a countdown to freedom. Or, as much freedom that one could get when they had to drive their little sister home straight after school. It was like a goddamn fucking leash around his neck, and he never knew how short it was going to get.

When the bell finally rang he was out the door in a flash, textbook shoved haphazardly under his arm. He was shoving it back into his locker when a hand landed on his shoulder, gentle but firm, a solid weight that sent alarm bells through every bone in his body. He jerked to the side, shoving away whoever it was that had put their hands on him.

“Hey man, woah. Chill, it’s just me!”

“Harrington, what the hell,” he snapped, glaring at the other boy. “I told you to stay away from me, what the hell are you doing putting your hands all over me?”

“Putting my hands-,” Steve spluttered, looking incredibly affronted at the idea. “I put my hand on your shoulder. That is hardly putting my hands all over you.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t fucking deck you,” Billy said, slamming the locker closed behind him. “I swear, you act like you want me to beat some sense into you. What part of stay away were you too stupid to understand?”

Steve sighed, crossing his arms like some preppy-ass librarian. “If you would pull your head out of your ass for two seconds you could maybe, I don’t know, ask me why I was bothering you.”

Billy stared, dumbfounded, at the sheer gall that Steve Harrington had. Was this guy serious?

“Are you serious right now?”

Steve just shrugged, still in the librarian pose. “You gonna ask me?”

Billy let out an incredulous laugh. “Sure, why the hell not. Why are you being a pain in my ass Harrington?”

“I can feel the sarcasm in that, but fine. I was going to ask how Max was doing. I haven’t seen her in a while, and I just wanted to check in and make sure she was doing alright.”

The burning, simmering anger that always surged when people asked after Max was in his chest again, and he couldn’t have this damn conversation. He wanted to get in Steve’s face, slap that stupid inquiring look straight off of it. Ask him why everyone was so concerned with Max’s wellbeing, why she was the one getting coddled and babied when no one laid a goddamn finger on her.

But he didn’t. He just shook his head and started walking, knocking into Steve’s shoulder as he passes by. “Fuck off Harrington.”

“Hey!” Harrington shouted after him, sounding offended of all things. “What the hell man! It was a genuine question!”

“Then ask her yourself,” he said over his shoulder. “You probably talk to her more than I do.”

“But you live with her.”

Billy could almost laugh at the confusion in Steve’s voice. As if pretty boy couldn’t believe that two people who lived in the same house together didn’t all together like each other that much. It wasn’t like he and the brat had that much in common anyway. He was too busy trying to survive to the age of 18 to sit down and have conversations about their feelings.

“Genius observation,” he called back. “How about you share it with her next time she goes to one of the nerd club meetings.”

He didn’t hear what Steve said next because he was out the school doors, a stiff breeze blowing leaves across his path. They were brown and dead, crunching under his shoes as he strode towards his Camaro. Two more years and he was out of this town. He promised that on his long-gone mother.

Chapter Text

Max was twenty minutes late to the car, and Billy was thoroughly pissed off at this point. Not only did he have to put up with Steve Harrington’s annoying ass at school all day, but now he had to wait on Max like some sort of personal slave? Hell no. Next time she pulled this shit she could skate home.

His hand was itching to take the wheel and pull out of here like he never had to come back. It was damn tempting too. The silence that he usually enjoyed seemed almost too quiet, and he felt like he could hear everything. The rush of the air-conditioning, the distant shouts of some kids across the parking lot, his heartbeat in his ears. He took a deep breath and held it until all he could feel was the tightness in his chest, letting it out only when he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He let his head fall back against the seat-rest, running his finger over the metal lighter he had recovered from the passenger seat. He flicked it open and then back closed, back and forth and back and forth. 25 minutes late. The anger was starting to morph into concern at this point. She better not have gotten herself kidnapped.

He was just about to get out of the car and look for her when she finally walked out of the school doors, followed by Harrington? He sat up straight, trying to get a better look. They looked to be in deep conversation, Steve nodding along to whatever Max was emphasizing with her hands. You had got to be kidding him. Did they both have some agenda to never leave him alone?

He rolled down the window, sticking his head out to properly yell at her. “Max! Get your ass in the car!”

They both looked over at him, Max flipping him off while Steve gave him a friendly wave. Billy glared at both of them, pulling his head back into the car and slouching down into his seat. He looked at his watch, his chest starting to feel a little tight. Neil didn’t have work today, which meant that they needed to get home now. Especially in case he wasn’t in a good mood.

“Max!” he shouted out the window again. “I’m serious, we need to leave! Now!” He let some of his anger bleed into his tone, hoping it was enough to get her moving. It wasn’t like he could go out there and manhandle her into the car, so for the millionth time in a row he was depending on Max for his fate.

Thankfully she seemed to catch on to his meaning and started hurrying over to the car with a quick goodbye to Steve. He could see the confused look on Steve’s face from here, but he didn’t have time to think about it now. Not when Max seemed hell-bent on getting him in trouble again.

“Finally,” he said as Max climbed into the passenger seat. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Just talking,” Max said quickly. “Sorry for taking so long. I don’t think your dad will care if we’re only a little late.”

Billy laughed, a feral sound that was completely out of place in the conversation. “Fucking hell Maxine. You’re going to get me killed one day. You know that?”

The words seemed to slap Max in the face and she recoiled back into her seat. “But you’ve been late before. And he’s never done anything.”

“Never done anything,” Billy muttered, letting the car roll to a stop at the stoplight. “That’s a good one. You’re real funny.”

Max huffed, both confused and angry in the same breath. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

And if Billy didn’t relate to that. Not voluntarily, but out of understanding. She was right, it didn’t make any sense. There was no rhyme or reason to it, no list of rules that he could follow. Any rules that existed were flighty, unreliable things. Prone to change on a whim or his dad’s moods. Trying to guess them was like playing roulette with a loaded gun. Stupid and ultimately painful.

“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “I know.”

Billy looked over at her and she looked back, eyes misty but her chin set firmly. He grimaced and slammed his foot on the gas as the light turned green. She had fire in her, he couldn’t deny that. And right then he decided he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that Neil didn’t try and stomp the defiance out of her like he did to Billy’s mom. Not again. Not on his watch.

So when Max leaned over and changed the station to her weird pop music, he glared at her but made no move to change it. Even though it made him want to gouge his ears out with a rusty fork. Max looked surprised at the absence of immediate backlash, but then smiled as if she knew something he didn’t. Which she didn’t, the little shit just loved to pretend she did.

Billy checked the numbers on his watch, wincing internally at the time. Knowing his luck, his Dad would be waiting at the front door when they got back. Two beers in, not enough to get him plastered but enough to make him tipsy. Tipsy was worse than drunk, at least when he was drunk he didn’t hit as hard.

His silence lasted a little longer than he meant it too, and he could feel the tension in the car. Max was sitting ramrod straight in her seat, eyes glued to the road ahead. Her fingers were twisting the hem of her shirt, and he knew that Susan would get upset at her later for stretching it out.

“Max,” he said, snapping her out of her trance. “When we get home, Susan is probably going to take you to go get groceries or something like that. Don’t complain or do anything annoying, alright? Just go with her.”

Max’s head whipped towards him so fast he could almost hear her neck crack. “What?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I said don’t make a scene shitbird.”

“It’s your first day back at school!”

“And?”

“And he can’t do that!” Max said, scowling. “People will start to ask questions if you’re gone from school again anyway.”

“Jeez Max, he’s not an idiot. He’s going to knock me around a little, not put me in the hospital. Keep your panties on.”

“My panties are very much on,” Max hissed, her face starting to match her hair. “And there is no way in hell that I am going to just walk out so he can hit you.”

“Great plan there Maxine,” Billy said, his voice monotone. “Piss my old man off even more. That way when you are eventually forced out of the house, he’ll have even more anger to direct at me.” He turned and flashed Max a wide smile. “Thank you so much. What would I ever do without you?”

Max deflated like a balloon. “I wish your Dad would move to Siberia.”

Billy laughed, his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. “Welcome to the club.”

His parking was straight this time, parallel to the grass just like his dad preferred it. He even wiped his feet on the doormat before unlocking the front door, painfully aware that each little desperate action would mean nothing to his dad. Max was wooden beside him, and he prayed to God that the knowledge rattling around her brain wouldn’t override her common sense. His dad was dangerous enough when he only had to worry about one person, two would be a nightmare.

“No complaining,” he muttered to Max one last time as he walked into the house before her. The foyer was empty, but the muted chatter of the television could be heard from the living room. Max was pressed up behind him and he could practically feel the tension in her shoulders. He slung an arm around her shoulder, dragging her with him towards the dreaded room.

If Max was shocked at the sudden display of affection she didn’t let on, but Billy suspected that she was too scared to really acknowledge it. It made him angry. To scare the living hell out of Billy was one thing, he deserved it, but Max? That didn’t fly with him, not even when he couldn’t stand her. That wouldn’t ever fly with him.  

“Calm the fuck down,” He said lowly underneath his breath, lifting his arm to push her towards the hallway. “He won’t go anywhere near you.”

Max nodded, lingering a second longer in the hallway before ducking into her room. Billy sighed, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes. Goddamn little brat. Making him feel bad for her. Babysitting duty was bad enough, he really did not need ‘emotional support person’ added to the list. That was Susan’s job. Someone needed to go tell her to be a better mom.

“Billy!” Neil barked from the living room. “Get in here!”

Billy rolled his eyes, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Right here,” he said, rounding the corner to stand in the entryway.

“You’re 30 minutes late,” his dad said, not even glancing up from the T.V to fully acknowledge Billy. “What the hell could have taken you 30 extra minutes?”

“I was selling weed to the middle schoolers behind the bleachers,” Billy deadpanned.

“What a comedian,” Neil said, eyes still tracking the sports game on the screen. “You want to try a real reason this time?”

Billy scowled, scuffing his foot against the carpet. “I don’t have one, Max just took a long time getting out of school.”

“Didn’t we recently have a conversation about hiding behind your little sister as an excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse, it’s what actually happened. I can’t control her like you expect me to do, and I’m not going to sit here and apologize for it. If you want me to be home exactly on time then you pick her up.”

Neil did look up at that one, a hard look in his eyes. “Is that so?”

Billy tried not to shrink under his Dad’s gaze. “Yeah, it fucking is.”

Neil leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his mouth. “I don’t even want to look at you right now. Go to your room and wait for me. Got that?”

“Perfectly,” Billy bit out, turning on his heel. What a douchebag. Max stuck her head out of her door as he passed by, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Usually he would have snapped something nasty at her, telling her to mind her own business. But it was a little different now, something had shifted in their dynamic that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, shrugging at her as he passed by. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Max, honey!” Susan called from the living room, her voice thin and shaky. “I need you to help me with the shopping tonight, go ahead and get your shoes on!”

Max’s face fell at the announcement, as if she had been hoping that Billy was mistaken in his assumption. Billy admired the optimism, he kind of hoped it would stick around a little longer. He missed having that blind hope that everything would turn out okay in the end.

“You heard her,” Billy said, pulling open his bedroom door. “Shoes on and ready to go.”

Max scowled, shutting the door harder than necessary as she went back into her room. Billy sighed, closing his door firmly behind him. This was what people bought pets for. So they could pawn off the emotional support to someone else. He’d go get the brat a dog right now if his Dad wouldn’t kill him for it. Goddamn.

He sat himself firmly in the corner of his room, watching the clock on his nightstand. It was a new one. Neil had practically yelled his ear off when he saw the shards of his old one, and had made Billy walk to the store to buy a new one. The new one wasn’t as nice as the old one, Billy was kind of a cheapskate, but it did what it was supposed to do.

His dad operated punishments the same way every time, so Billy knew that he had about an hour before Neil walked in. It was like clockwork. The actual punishment itself was always a mystery, but the timing most definitely was not. He wasn’t sure if it was on purpose, the routine of it all, but it wouldn’t surprise him if it was.

He bit the inside of his cheek, leaning forward to grab the strap of his backpack. He had a stack of worksheets that he needed to finish before the end of the week, all of it make-up work from his week of absence. None of it was terribly difficult, but it was a shit-ton of busy work, which made him want to claw his eyes out. There was nothing worse than sitting down and spending time on something that was worthless.

Nonetheless, the worksheets were the deciding factor on his grades this quarter, so unless he wanted the wrath of his dad he was going to do the stupid things. He fished a pencil out of one of the side pockets and set to work on an English paper, annotating and underlining like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Who needed hard liquor when the Great Gatsby was right there?

Time seemed to both freeze in place and hurtle ahead in the hour Billy was stuck in his room. He had made it through half his papers, four pencils, and a ridiculous amount of skin from the side of his fingernails. It was a habit that pissed Neil off to no end—“Biting your fingers like some little girl. Next time I see you do that you can see how you like a fist to the mouth”—but it was a hard one to kick. Especially when he was nervous.

When there were only a couple minutes left on his mental timer he slid the papers carefully back into his backpack, making sure he didn’t accidentally crush the corners. He shoved his backpack under his desk, making sure to keep it out of obvious sight. His dad had only upended it once, but Billy was a fast learner and wasn’t going to give Neil a chance to do it again. Especially not when it would mean having to sort through and organize a giant stack of worksheets.

Footsteps could be heard from the hallway and Billy scrambled to his feet, eyes sweeping the room one last time for anything out of place. The door wrenched open and Billy snapped his eyes towards his Dad. He drew his shoulders back defensively, not saying anything as Neil closed the door softly behind him. Déjà vu slammed into him like a wall, and for a second Billy couldn’t remember what today was or what he had done or even how old he was anymore. It was unsettling how easily Neil’s presence could send him flying back into the mindset of 10 year old Billy.

Neil cleared his throat and Billy settled back into the present time, overly aware of the tension in his Dad’s arms and eyes. Neil crossed his arms, letting the silence grow heavy.

Just when Billy felt like he was going to suffocate from the pressure Neil opened his mouth. “You got anything to say for yourself, Billy?”

“I don’t know what you expect me to be sorry for,” Billy said wearily, shifting on his feet. He was so tired, and being able to go to sleep after this was almost enough to make the incoming beat-down worth it.

“You want to try that again?”

“Not really,” Billy said.

“Well the way I see it, it’s like you don’t even listen. Do our conversations go straight through that head of yours?”

“I didn’t do anything, and I can’t control Max. It was only 20 minutes, and you act like I disappeared for half the day. How the hell am I supposed to work with that?”

Neil nodded, a hand coming up to rub his chin. “Come here.”

Billy hesitated, eying Neil warily. He really didn’t want to go over there.

“Get. Your Ass. Over Here,” Neil said again, his voice hard.

Billy got his ass over there. There were certain things one did not do in the Hargrove household, and disobeying Neil after he repeated himself was one of those things. Billy was already treading dangerous waters, he wasn’t about to invite in a hurricane.  

Neil waited until Billy was right in front of him before striking, his fist driving twice into Billy’s stomach, hard and in quick succession. Billy doubled over, trying to regain the breath that was knocked out of him. Neil didn’t give him time to recover, sweeping a backhand across Billy’s jaw with enough force to let him know that he needed to pay attention.

“We’re going to do this again. Would you like to say anything to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Billy gasped, forcing himself to straighten upright. Neil raised an eyebrow and he quickly amended his statement. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“It’s not that goddamn hard!” Neil suddenly shouted, causing Billy to flinch. “So you better figure yourself out before I figure it out for you! Do you understand me!?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Get out of my goddamn house,” Neil said, his voice cold as he regarded Billy. “And you better be on time to drive your sister to school tomorrow.”

Billy couldn’t think properly but he knew an order when he heard one so he moved, walking out of the house on autopilot. It wasn’t until he was on the driveway that he fully realized his situation. It was cold outside, and Billy didn’t have his jacket.

“Well shit,” Billy muttered, turning his car keys over in his hand. Neil had thrown them at him from the doorway, barely missing Billy’s face. It wasn’t the first time Billy had been kicked out for the night before, but it was his first time in a while getting kicked out after getting beat. It was usually one or the other, rarely both.

His ribs were hurting, a dull persistent ache that seemed to stay with him no matter how still he was standing. His arm hurt as well from how hard Neil had gripped him, and he could see finger-shaped bruises starting to bloom against his skin.

He wondered what Neil would say when Max and Susan came home. Would he make up some sort of excuse, blaming Billy for awful behavior that all but begged for expulsion? Or did he tell it straight up, explaining that he had kicked his son out for the night because he felt like it. He’d have to ask Max.

If nothing else, at least he had the whole night to himself. Nothing like half a bottle of vodka and sleeping in your car to get a party going. Speaking of his car, he really hoped he still had that extra blanket stashed under the passenger seat. If not, this would be an absolutely miserable night. Hawkins was a shit-ton colder than California that was for sure.

He let out one last huff, watching his breath fog in the air before stalking over to his car. Thankfully the heaters still worked perfectly fine, and Billy wouldn’t have any problem staying warm for now. Later he’d be miserable—not like he could run the car all night, not with gas money being hard to come by—but for now he was amped up and ready to go.

The restless feeling was back with a vengeance, thrilling and humming through his veins like a live wire. It was like trying to contain a fire. The longer you tried to hold it in, the more you got burned. Billy was damn tired of getting burned.

He was out of the neighborhood as fast as he could, pushing 80 as soon as he hit open road. It was 6:27 and Billy had the whole goddamn night in front of him. He could feel the thrum of the engine in his chest, and if Billy had to declare a heaven he’d probably go with this. He rolled his windows down, letting the wind sweep his hair away from his face and pull the breath from his lungs.

The vodka that he had stashed under the backseats quickly made its way into his hand, and the buzz in his veins was soon amplified by long drags that sent lines of fire down his throat. He drank until the pain across his skin dulled to a low ache that he could ignore.

He wasn’t sure how long he drove for, the humming of the engine fading to background noise as his tires spun up miles of Indiana dust. He was hurtling around a particularly familiar corner, one that he had to take each morning to school, when red and blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, shifting his foot from the gas to the brake. God-fucking-dammit. He couldn’t have one single night around this dump. The cop car was still flashing its seizure-inducing lights, announcing to every cornfield and cow in the nearby vicinity that Billy had gotten pulled over. Wonderful.

He rolled to a stop along the side of the road, shifting his car into park with a shuddering jolt. He glanced into the rearview mirror, feeling his heart drop when none other than Chief Hopper stepped out of the patrol car. Well if he wasn’t screwed.

He rolled down his window, the cold air rushing in to instantly shock him sober. He shoved the almost empty bottle of vodka haphazardly back underneath the seat next to him before scrubbing his hands over his face with a roughness aimed to shake himself alert. His dad would straight up murder him if he got dragged home by a cop twice, and he was praying to every god that would listen that Hopper would just settle for a warning or a night in the drunk tank. Nothing that would alert his dad.

A hand landed on his window sill and Billy cursed at himself for flinching. Hopper peered down at him, giving Billy and the car a once-over, an eyebrow raising at the smell of alcohol. “You know how fast you were going son?”

Billy’s done this dance before, knows the question is hypothetical and that there’s nothing he can say to convince the cop otherwise. So he smirked, the corners of his mouth pulling at the bruise on his jaw. “Real damn fast I hope.”

Hopper sighed, the hand on Billy’s window sill moving up to rub at weary lines on his forehead. “You smell like booze. Your whole damn car smells like booze. You mind telling me why you thought underage drinking and driving was a good idea?”

Billy just shrugged, rubbing his thumb along a rip in his jeans. He couldn’t remember where he had gotten it from. “Who said I was drinking and driving?”

“The empty bottle on the floor next to you,” Hopper deadpanned.

Billy glanced over at the glass bottle that had rolled into plain sight. “Well shit.”

“Shit is right. Get out of the car.”

Billy scowled at the command. It was nice and warm in his car, and now he was going to have to freeze his ass off so the Chief could go on a power trip. He made sure his annoyance was obvious as he shoved his way out of the car, the undone buttons on his shirt feeling more and more like a dumb idea every second he was out in the cold.

He leaned against the car door, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Is it time for the strip search?”

“Cut the lip kid,” Hopper said, his hands resting on his belt in a position that was a little too familiar for Billy’s liking. “I just want to know why you’re out this late on a school night, obviously drunk and looking like you got in a fight.”

Billy glanced down at his chest, the bruises spreading from his ribs looking almost shiny in the headlights of Hopper’s car. He shrugged, looking back up at the Chief. “What can I say, I’m a man of habit.”

“Does habit include not wearing a jacket when it’s this cold out?”

“It’s warm in the car,” Billy shot back defensively, his arms migrating from his side to across his chest.

“Just how drunk are you?”

Billy raised an eyebrow, sticking his wrists out in front of him. “Pretty drunk. Take me in officer.”

Hopper looked about as amused as a grizzly bear. “Real funny. I’m taking you home, get in the back of my car. You can pick your car up at the station tomorrow, I’ve had about enough of you speeding down these backroads with no thought to your or anyone else’s safety.”

“Hell no,” Billy snapped, yanking his arms back down to his side. “You’re not driving me home.”

“Yes you are, get in the back of the damn car.”

“Fuck you,” Billy spat, taking a step away from Hopper. “I’m not getting in your fucking car.”

Hopper narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t get in the car you’re going to be spending the night in the drunk tank. Is that what you want?”

Billy glared back at the man, his fists clenched so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palm. “Sure. Take me to the stupid tank for all I care, I’m not going home in your damn cop car.”

Hopper seemed to pause at that, taking a small step back to really look at Billy. It was a searching, scrutinizing look and Billy felt suddenly exposed. Like he had left something secret written on his face and Hopper was trying to read it.

When Hopper spoke next his voice was quiet, a sharp contrast to the booming commands he had been shouting out earlier. “Where’d you get the bruises, kid?”

And Billy’s so fucking done with this conversation, done with the inquiries and weird looks from the man who reminded him so much of his Dad and yet acted the exact opposite. The Drunk Tank would be a roof over his head so he didn’t freeze, and he’d very much like to get hauled there already if it was his only choice. Especially if it meant getting out of this conversation.

“I got in a fight,” he said, forcing his shoulders to drop the tension. “I’m a regular delinquent, you should go make sure the other guy’s okay.”

“Okay,” Hopper sighed after a couple seconds. “Okay, Billy. I can’t let you drive around this late at night drunk, so it looks like you’re going to spend the night at the station. Hand me your keys and I’ll park your car there, you can get it in the morning. I’ll be at the station all night anyway, so just go sit in the front seat.”

Billy eyed him warily, shifting from one foot to the other. “What time are you letting me out?”

“What time do you need to be out?”

“I have to drive my sister to school, so 6:30 at the latest.”

“I’ll let you out at 6, now will you get in the car?”

“Fine, goddamn,” Billy muttered, pushing off his car. He obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere with the man, and he might as well give in before things got ugly.

“Keys,” Hopper said, putting his hand out expectantly.

Billy rolled his eyes but fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed it to Hopper, making sure to stay out of the man’s reach as he walked past. If Hopper noticed the unusually wide berth Billy was giving him, he didn’t comment on it, simply tucking the keys into his pocket and heading towards his car.

The ride to the station was tense and quiet, neither person wanting to break the precarious silence that had built up between them. Billy stared out of the window the entire drive, not wanting to give Hopper the satisfaction of seeing either curiosity or fear. Both of those never led to anything good, and if Billy was one thing it was a quick learner. Fool me once and all that bullshit.

Hopper, to his credit, didn’t try to tackle the wall between them. He simply switched on the radio, letting the low static riddled notes of the music fill the car instead of words. He did shoot Billy quick glances every now and then, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows making an appearance after each one.

Billy just wished he had another bottle of vodka to go through.

Chapter Text

The parking lot was near apocalyptic-looking as Billy and Hopper pulled in, the dim streetlights doing nothing to ward off the oppressive darkness that was settling over the town as the sun sunk below the horizon. Whatever residual warmth that had been in the air had vanished, and Billy shivered as soon as he stepped out of the car. Stupid Hawkins couldn’t even have decent weather.

He followed Hopper mutely into the station, his shoulders pulled up to his ears to ward off the cold. There was a blast of cool air as soon as he stepped through the door, and he realized with a pang of annoyance that the A/C was on full blast.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, stomping resolutely behind Hopper through the tiny lobby. The place was deserted, the front desk a lonely slab of wood that seemed to match the décor for the rest of the building. A dozen or so office desks were lined up in rows, standard office chairs shoved carelessly under them.

Hopper glanced back at him at the expletive, raising an eyebrow at Billy’s posture. “Do you have a jacket in your car I can bring you?”

“No, I left it at your mom’s” Billy responded petulantly. “Are you the only police officer in this shithole?”

Hopper’s eyebrow remained raised. “Mature kid, real mature. And it’s 10 at night, so I’m the only one on duty. I’m sure you’ve met some of my coworkers before, what with your tendency to drive like an idiot down the backroads.”

Billy scowled. “It’s called real driving. None of the morons here know how to do it.”

“Sure,” Hopper said dryly, swinging the door to the drunk tank open. “How about you try and get some sleep, Earnhardt.”

“Cause this is just the coziest thing I’ve ever seen,” Billy said, shuffling in. He eyed the beige walls and plain white cot in the corner with unhidden distaste.

“Here,” Hopper said, drawing Billy’s attention once he had settled down on the cot. “Take this.”

Billy flinched back as Hopper tossed his jacket to him, barely catching it before it hit him in the face. It was the large brown standard-issue police jacket, leather but lined with fleece. Old, worn, and something welcomingly warm in this icebox of a room. He looked back up at Hopper, a questioning look on his face.

“It’s damn cold in here, and since you don’t have a jacket you’re going to need mine. It’s not fancy, but it’ll warm you up faster than that half a shirt you’re wearing.”

Billy was a shithead, but he wasn’t stupid. It was cold as hell in here, and Billy would be a downright idiot to turn down something warm. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Hopper nodded, reaching in to close the door behind him. “I’m gonna be here all night, so just holler if you need something. If I’m not answering, just come find me. I’m not going to lock this door, I trust you’ll stay in here. Pull any funny shit and I’ll handcuff you to the bedframe. Got it?”

Billy just nodded, leaning back against the wall as the door clicked softly shut. The cot wasn’t the softest thing in the world, but it was a big step up from his freezing car, and Billy felt an unexpected rush of gratitude towards the Chief. He immediately shoved it down, suddenly angered at the whole situation. Billy Hargrove. Grateful to a goddamn cop. What a joke.

He slid Hopper’s jacket on, some of the tension in his shoulders bleeding out at the increase in warmth. The sleeves were too long, as well as the rest of the jacket, and Billy leant into it, wrapping it tightly against himself. He probably looked like a little girl, all huddled into the corner like this. But it was cold, and late, and Billy didn’t give a shit. Billy really couldn’t afford to give a shit, not in this situation.

He dozed on and off, drifting in and out of a deep sleep. He vaguely recalled footsteps coming and going from his door, steps that he was too tired to try and decipher. The position he had ended up in—a curled up ball on the corner of the cot—wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was quiet. And with the warmth that Hopper’s jacket was lending, Billy might even go so far as to say that this was one of the most relaxing nights he had been able to get in a while.

He was woken in the morning by a harsh knock on the door, and he bolted upright, snapping his eyes to the source. He couldn’t tell what time it was, but if he had woken up late, Neil would have his ass.

“I wish I could wake up that fast.”

Billy blinked, and Hopper’s figure swam into focus. Not Neil. He groaned and fell back against the bed. “Fuck off.”

“Adorable. It’s 5:58, up and at ‘em kid.”

Billy glared at him, dragging a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Where’s my car?”

“In the parking lot, where the hell else would it be? Breakfast is in the office, come on.”

Billy pushed himself off the cot, Hopper’s jacket still draped over his shoulders. “Like food?” Billy stared at Hopper’s retreating back, the question hanging unanswered between them. Billy could have killed something for food right about now, but he wasn’t under any assumptions that Hopper had provided any. He was in the Drunk Tank for Christ’s sake.

Except when he dragged himself out into the office, there were two plates of Eggos and two glasses of orange juice. Hopper was already digging into one of them, a fork in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He glanced up at Billy’s entrance, nodding at the extra plate. “Sit down.”

Billy blinked, confused. “Is that for me?”

Hopper paused, lowering his fork back down to his plate. “Well I’m not going to send you to school without food, so you better eat it.”

Billy sat down, dumbfounded at Hopper’s easy tone. Did he feed every no-good delinquent that rolled through here? He snatched an Eggo before Hopper changed his mind, taking a huge bite out of the side. God bless the creator of frozen waffles.

“Am I going to need to make any phone calls home to explain where you’ve been?”

Billy almost choked on his Eggo. “What? No. Hell no. I said I was at a friend’s house, chill the fuck out.”

Hopper took a sip of his orange juice, eyeing Billy. “It was just a question kid, no need to get defensive. Do I need to call this friend?”

“I wasn’t actually going to a friend’s house,” Billy scoffed, returning to his food. “It’s called an excuse. Ever heard of it?”

“And what were you planning on doing all night, alone and without a jacket?”

Billy faltered, suddenly aware of how unprepared he was for an interrogation. He hadn’t had time to craft an excuse, figure out a reason for his poorly thought out late night adventuring. And honestly, even if he did have time, he wasn’t sure he could.

“None of your business,” he snapped, angry at the Chief for prying. “It’s not illegal to be out at night.”

“I never said it was,” Hopper said, his voice calm and steady.

“Fine,” Billy said, standing up. “Where are my keys?”

“I have them.”

Billy stared at Hopper, trying to figure out how to breathe normally. This was too close, too personal. Hopper needed to mind his damn business and leave him alone. He didn’t need his questions and stupid stares and goddamn Eggos.

“Give me my keys,” he demanded. But his voice was hoarse, and it came out sounding more like a plea.

“Finish your food first,” Hopper said. “I’ll give them to you after. I’m not letting you go to school without an empty plate, so I suggest you sit down.”

Billy couldn’t fucking breathe. Not with Hopper looking at him like that, staring him down like he can see right through him. But he sits his ass down, right back onto the hard wooden chair because that’s what you do when someone tells you what to do with that voice. He doesn’t know Hopper. Doesn’t know what makes him tick, and what happens when he does. And he’s not about to push it, not here, not where it’s just him and the Chief.

The Eggos were now luke-warm but he shoveled them in his mouth all the same, with a mechanical efficiency that was well-practiced after years of dinners with Susan and her cooking. He avoided looking at Hopper, hoping that the man didn’t push anything. He wanted to leave. Screw breakfast. Screw this whole damn thing.

“Can I go now?” he asked after he swallowed the last bite, crossing his arms and glaring at Hopper. “I’m not under fucking arrest, can you give me my goddamn keys?”

Hopper reached into his pocket, pulling out Billy’s keys before tossing them across the table. “Stick to the speed limit this time, kid. I’ll be around.”

Billy snatched the keys out of the air and bolted from the table, clenching his fist until the metal ridges of his house key dug into his palm. It wasn’t until he was in his car and halfway back to his house that he realized that he was still wearing Hopper’s jacket. He cursed loudly, slamming his palms down onto his steering wheel. Goddammit. Now he’d have to go see the Chief again to give him back the stupid jacket.

He was still fuming as he pulled up to his house, 5 minutes early to pick up Max. Except he wasn’t even halfway to the door when it swung open and Max stormed out, her backpack in hand and a thunderous look on her face. “He is such an ass,” she cried, her voice cracking at the end. “You just disappeared, and he wouldn’t even tell me where you were.” She punched Billy’s arm, her face crumpling. “I didn’t know where you were.”

Billy faltered, blinking at his sister. They’d been fighting for so long it felt weird to see any sort of concern pointed at his direction. It was strange. Not entirely unwelcome though, just really fucking weird.

“I’m okay Max,” he said distractedly, staring at the doorway that Neil was now standing in. He reached out to ruffle Max’s hair, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “He just kicked me out for the night.”

Max looked back at the doorway, scowling when she saw Neil. “Yeah, well he’s a jerk, and I hate him.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” he said, reaching down to grab Max’s bag from her hand. “Get in the car, I don’t feel like being late today.”

She marched off to the car and he followed, trying to ignore the feeling of his Dad’s gaze boring into his back. It was hot and heavy, a weight on his shoulders that he couldn’t shake for the life of him. Sometimes he wondered if leaving would get rid of it. If it would follow him for the rest of his life, constantly reminding him of what he was worth. 10,000 miles could outrun a lot of things, but Billy wasn’t sure family was one of them.

“Where’d you go?” Max asked when they had cleared their neighborhood.

“What?”

“Last night. Where did you go?” Max repeated, running her thumb up and down the leather of her seat. The nonchalance in her voice was forced, and Billy could feel the tension in it. He sighed, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Why he was stuck with the most insistent step-sister on this side of the continent was beyond his understanding.

“I just drove around.”

“Is that Chief Hopper’s jacket!?”

Billy glanced down at the jacket, letting out another sigh. “Shut up, Max.”

“Did you steal the Chief of Police’s jacket!?”

“What? No, I didn’t steal the damn jacket.”

“Then why do you have it?”

Billy wondered if throwing Max headfirst out the window would be worth it. The retaliation from Neil would be nasty, but the pure joy he would feel might balance it out. “I broke into his house into the middle of the night and stole it,” he bit out, shooting Max a glare. “Buzz off with the questions.”

Max crossed her arms over her chest and slouched, sticking her tongue out at him. “Don’t be an asshole Billy. It’s a valid question.”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“Yeah, well I don’t think your Dad would be very happy with you if you got arrested.” Max snapped, her eyes immediately widening as the words left her mouth.

“You know fuck-all about my Dad,” Billy said coldly, keeping his gaze on the road. “Don’t you dare tell me what he would do.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Max said quietly, kicking her foot against the door. “I was just wondering. I thought you hated cops.”

“I don’t hate cops.” He looked over and rolled his eyes at the disbelieving stare Max was sending his way. “I just don’t trust them, stop looking at me like that.”

“What about that time you cursed out that cop back in Cali?”

Billy’s jaw tensed. She had to go poking at all the sensitive spots, didn’t she? He didn’t want to talk about the goddamn cop from Cali. “That was different.”

“Yeah, how?” she challenged, sticking her chin out at him. “It’s not like you were all buddy-buddy with the other cops.”

“Shut up, Max,” he said. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t stop me from talking,” she said. “And yeah, I don’t know, because you don’t talk about anything. You could have told me about Neil you know, instead of just letting me find out eventually. It probably would have helped if you had told me, especially because-”

“Max, will you shut your goddamn mouth!?” he yelled, trying to shove the panic back down as it rose in his chest. He didn’t talk about shit, because his stupid goddamned brain liked to freak out over it. And he wasn’t about to go running his mouth to Max of all people. She wouldn’t be able to understand, and he wasn’t about to go dragging her into his problems any more than he already had.

He dragged in a shaky breath of air through his nose, wishing his lungs would expand back to their normal size. He couldn’t fucking think properly, and he wished Max would just take her questions and shove them where he didn’t have to see them again. He coped by shoving his shit so far down it didn’t see the light of day, and the last thing he needed was to dig all that up.

His exhale was shaky, but less shaky than the inhale and he glanced back over at Max. Her cheeks were bright red, and her bottom lip was caught firmly between her teeth. She looked small, as if she was 9 instead of 13. Billy wondered if he had ever looked that young. He sure as hell had never felt like it.

If he was a better brother he would have apologized, told her that he knew she didn’t mean it the way he took it and that he wasn’t angry at her, just at his whole damn life. But he wasn’t. So he looked back at the road and let the rest of the drive fill with silence.

She didn’t say anything as she got out of the car and Billy closed his eyes, wondering why he felt like crying all of a sudden. He shouldn’t care how Max felt, shouldn’t be worried that he hurt her feelings. He had bigger things to worry about, like the damn Chief of Police and surviving till his 18th birthday. Max would be fine.

He shrugged the Chief’s jacket off his shoulders, stowing it under his seat. No way in hell was he going to wear it into school. That’d be raising questions he’d prefer not to answer. Besides, it wasn’t exactly his style. He let out a heavy breath, staring through the windshield at nothing in particular. He really did not feel like having to do life today.

There was a sharp rapping on his window and he jumped, letting out a loud curse. He glanced over to see Steve Harrington himself waving through the glass, a little smile on his stupid preppy face. Billy just stared at him, confused as fuck as to why Steve was bothering him.

Steve just mimed rolling down the window, ignoring the death glare Billy was sending him. Goddamn, did the guy not know how to take a hint? What the hell was he doing knocking on Billy’s window anyway?

Billy swung his door open forcefully, feeling a small spark of glee when Steve had to jump back to avoid getting hit. “Get the hell away from my car Harrington. What do you want?”

“Rude,” Steve said, leaning back against his own car. “I was going to ask if you were ok.”

“Fuck off.”

“Were you born with a stick up your ass or was it a recent development?”

Billy laughed at that, slamming his car door behind him as he stood up. “You just don’t know when to stop do you? I beat the shit out of you, and you seem to take that as an invitation to piss me off all day long. Do you want me to do it again?”

“No, it’s called trying to be a decent person. Beating my face in was fucked up, but I also recognize that the situation looked pretty shady from your viewpoint. And I know your dad’s a hardass, so I can’t really blame you too much for going all psycho on my ass.”

Billy whipped his head towards Steve, stuck on the words in the middle of Harrington’s god-awful speech about friendship and harmony or some shit like that. “What did you just say about my dad?”

Steve’s confident expression faltered for a second and he frowned. “That he was a hardass?”

“Who the hell told you that?”

Steve raised his hands in surrender, looking genuinely perplexed. “Max and I were talking and she said your dad is super strict. I’m not insulting him or anything man, it was just an observation.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Billy said, running his hands through his hair. “I’m gonna kill the little bitch.”

“Woah!” Steve said, pointing at Billy. “That’s a little extreme. She didn’t mean anything by it, don’t go bothering her about this. I probably wasn’t even supposed to tell you she told me that.”

“Yeah no shit,” Billy snapped, turning and walking away. “It’s called not having your life details aired to the local rich boy.”

“Ouch,” Steve said, jogging to catch up to Billy. “And it was not your life details. Also you never answered my first question.”

“I’m just great,” Billy said, plastering a wide grin on his face and turning to look at Steve. “Thank you so much for asking.”

“You know if your eyes aren’t a part of the smile it’s really creepy,” Steve grimaced, gesturing towards Billy’s face. “Like, you’ve got the deranged psychopath look down to a science. It’s real good.”

Billy sighed, letting the grin fall off his face. He didn’t have the energy for this. He never had the energy for this. “Are you just going to keep bothering me?”

“Until you answer the question, yeah.”

“Fuck you.”

Steve huffed, looking genuinely put out at Billy’s response. “Rude. Can you at least give me something to work with here?”

“No.”

“Do you take pleasure in being the biggest jerk on the planet?”

Billy paused, turning to face Steve in front of the school doors. “I don’t know what part of that sentence was supposed to make me want to talk to you, but it failed miserably. Get out of my fucking personal space before I move you out of it.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Steve repeated, placing his hands on his hips like a damn girl scout. “If you get to be an asshole then I get to be an asshole. And I say that I’m not leaving you alone until you stop being a jerk and give me something to work with here.”

“I’m three seconds away from introducing your face to the pavement.”

“Not leaving.”

Billy could feel a headache coming on. He really did not feel like beating Harrington off with a stick. It was easier to roll with it, just let Harrington work through his peace and love bullshit. “Fucking hell. Did you do the math homework?”

Steve blinked at the sudden topic change but shrugged, diving in like it was the original topic. “Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. Do you need it?”

By Billy’s logic, if he was going to be stuck with Harrington the pretty boy he might as well get something out of it. “Yeah, I was kinda busy last night.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll give it to you to copy over at lunch.”

“Ok cool.”

Steve nodded, swinging his arms back and forth awkwardly. “Sooo does this mean we’re cool?”

“Shove it up your ass Steve,” Billy shot back, with less heat than he would have liked. “And stop corrupting Max.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Please. She’s plenty capable of learning her bad habits from you.”

Billy grinned, because if that wasn’t true he didn’t know what was. “I’ll come find you at lunch Harrington, you better have the right answers.”

It wasn’t until Steve was halfway down the hallway that Billy realized that he was still smiling. He immediately scowled, trying to rid his face of any remnants of happiness. He had a goddamn image to uphold for Christ’s sake. And Steve was annoying as hell, there was no way he would ever take their mutual agreement farther than base tolerance.

Tommy sidled up like a leech a short moment later, a greasy smile across his face. “Hey Billy, you coming to the party tonight?”

“Tracy’s party?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Tommy. He had no plans of wasting his night at Tracy Lark’s lame-ass party, and he wasn’t sure if Tommy was being serious or not.

“Yeah, that one.”

Well damn. The little shit was actually serious. Like hell was Billy gonna be caught drinking lukewarm beer at a sophomore’s house party. It was disturbing that Tommy had even assumed Billy would make an appearance. Did no one have standards anymore?

He scoffed, rounding the corner too close to the wall to force Tommy to give him some goddamn space. “Fuck no.”

Tommy cleared his throat, ducking around to Billy’s other side to laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, course not. I wasn’t going to go either, I was just making sure you knew it wasn’t worth it.”

“Well shit Tommy. Thank you so much for the advice,” Billy said, shooting Tommy the fakest smile he could muster. “You’re a life-saver.”

Tommy perked up, his two brain cells coming to the conclusion that Billy was being serious. “Hell yeah dude, that’s what I’m here for. See you in P.E.” He slapped Billy on the shoulder and walked off, Carol materializing from the corner to suck on his face. Billy hated this shitty school.

In fact, Billy hated a lot of things. He should make a list. It would probably fill a whole book. At least. Maybe when he was older, and out of this shithole, he’d do just that. Write a whole damn book and then light it on fire. And he’d make sure that Neil’s name was engraved into the fucking cover.

Chapter Text

The quarry was deserted. It usually was this time of night, and Billy felt like he could finally breathe. Neil had been stormy all day long, and Billy was sure that he had almost suffocated from the pressure. Except then he hadn’t, and now the night was his. Just him, his car, and the sheer drop in front of him.

He was perched on the hood of his car, taking long drags from the cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth. The moon was full and bright, giving the whole place a sort of silvery glow. If he was poetic or some shit like that he could probably write up something real pretty about it. He was wearing Chief Hopper’s jacket, as it was cold and he still needed to drop it off. He wasn’t about to turn down warmth, and the jacket was way more comfortable than he would ever admit to anyone.

 He lay back against the cool glass of his windshield, letting his eyes fall shut. He really didn’t have to be back home till morning, and maybe he could just sleep out here tonight. The odds of getting eaten by a coyote were pretty small, and Billy was willing to risk the odds. In fact, if he drank enough alcohol, he wouldn’t even feel the cold.

He took another pull from his cigarette, before stubbing it out on his car hood. He wondered how late it was. He was planning to eventually migrate back into his car, where he kept blankets, but he wasn’t sure if he was tired enough yet. There was nothing worse than laying down in the backseat of your car, trying to sleep, when your brain refused to stop spinning.

The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires suddenly arose out of the darkness and Billy sat up, shading his eyes against the bright headlights that washed over the clearing with a vengeance. Who the hell was driving around here this late at night? In the months he’d been coming here, he’d never seem anyone crazy enough to be out here this late at night. After two in the morning even the couples who came here to hook-up dispersed.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, when the car rolled to a stop and none other than Steve Harrington stepped out. The guy was getting on his last nerves, and he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t end up slugging Harrington in the face. Or hurling himself off the quarry ledge with some extra airtime included.

“Hey Billy,” Steve said, strolling over like it was a Saturday afternoon at the park. “What are you doing?”

“Your mom.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve deadpanned. “That was hilarious.”

“The fuck do you want Harrington?” Billy said, settling back down against his windshield. “Get lost or something.”

“The quarry’s public property,” Steve replied, shoving his hands in his pockets when he was right next to Billy’s car. “I can sit out here all night if I want.”

“Fantastic, just what I wanted.”

Billy wished he hadn’t stubbed out his cigarette. Or that the six-pack in his car could magically transport into his hand. He didn’t know why the hell Steve was out here trying to act all buddy-buddy, he was pretty sure he was giving off strong “stay away from me” vibes right now. But then again, he thought he had relayed the message quite clearly at school, and Steve had still found a way to ignore it.

“You’re uh, a little close to the edge of the quarry. You might want to back your car up so you don’t accidentally fall in or something.”

“I’m planning to jump. Parking this close is a convenience.”

There was a long silence and Billy looked over at Steve, rolling his eyes at the look on Harrington’s face. “Oh for fuck’s sake, it was a joke.”

“Wasn’t a very funny one.”

“Relax. If I was gonna end it I’d wait till you were gone anyway.”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse?”

Billy snorted, crossing his hands behind his head. “Don’t know why you’re acting like what happens to me bothers you, pretty boy.”

“Maybe it’s, oh I don’t know, basic human decency? Jeez Billy, you act like no one has a goddamn heart around here. I’m allowed to not want you to die.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Well shit Harrington. That almost got me emotional. I’ll make sure to send you a courtesy apology note if I ever decide to take the dive.”

“What are you doing out here Billy?” Steve said wearily. “It’s an unholy hour in the morning and we have school tomorrow.”

“Get your nose out of my personal business. Why the hell are you out here? You have school tomorrow too.”

There was a short pause, before Steve let out an annoyed sounding sigh. “I was on my way home and I saw your car here. It’s really weird seeing people out here this late, and Max said you’d been staying away all night.”

Billy lay there for a moment, letting Steve’s words make sense inside his brain. “She did what?”

“She’s worried about you,” Steve repeated, kicking at Billy’s tires with his foot. “And so I figured I’d double check to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Get the fuck away from me Harrington,” Billy bit out coldly. “I don’t need your goddamn savior complex. Max needs to learn how to shut her mouth, cause all you’re doing right now is pissing me the hell off. So unless you want a fist to the face, I suggest you move yourself somewhere I can’t see or hear you from.”

Steve opened his mouth and then shut it, rocking back onto his heels. He reached up to scratch his headed, grimacing at Billy. “Dude, I’m just trying to be a nice person.”

“Yeah? Well don’t. Or go do it somewhere else.”

“Jeez, fine. I brought the good stuff with me and everything though. Maybe you’d be more interested if the stick shoved up your ass wasn’t affecting your brain function.”

Billy sat up, squinting at Harrington. He didn’t do pity parties but he did do alcohol. “I’m ignoring that second sentence, but you’re gonna have to be more specific with the first.”

“My dad’s expensive-ass liquor cabinet.”

 Billy thought about the offer for two seconds before hopping down off the hood of his car. He hadn’t had good alcohol in a damn while, and he was not about to pass up an opportunity. Besides, on second thought Steve wasn’t too bad when he kept his mouth shut. “Well shit Harrington, you should have opened with that. Stop talking and hand it over.”

Steve rolled his eyes but retrieved the booze anyway, tossing a fancy looking bottle of whiskey towards Billy like it was a beer can. He ambled over and sat down at the edge of the quarry, letting his feet dangle over the edge. Billy sat down next to him, taking a long pull from the bottle in his hand.

“Goddamn. Compliments to your Dad’s liquor cabinet.”

Steve laughed. “Told you.”

Billy eyed him sideways, running his thumb over the lip of the bottle. “Your dad isn’t going to notice you stole his booze?”

Steve’s laugh turned brittle, a short sharp sound that cut through Billy’s words. “He won’t be home until Christmas, and it’s not like he remembers what’s in there anyway.”

Billy’s grin was equally as sharp. “Rich and lucky, huh?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Billy shrugged, passing him the bottle. “Grass is always greener, or some shit like that.”

“To the motherfucking green grass,” Steve said, lifting the bottle high before taking a big swallow.

Billy laughed, watching Steve’s face as he winced at the taste. “Not a big whiskey fan Harrington?”

“More of a wine guy,” Steve rasped, handing the bottle back over to Billy. “That shit’s strong.”

“Of course you’re a wine guy,” Billy muttered, taking another sip. He hadn’t eaten much for dinner, and he could already feel the warmth of the alcohol in his stomach. “Why didn’t you bring one of your dad’s fancy wines then?”

“You don’t peg me as a wine guy,” Steve said, peering at Billy through the wind-blown strands of hair that had fallen across his face. “Am I wrong?”

“Nope,” Billy said, leaning forward until he could see the water at the bottom of the quarry. “Think I could do at least four flips before I reached the water?”

“Yeah, and then you’d turn into a human pancake. Stop leaning over like that, you’re going to fall in.”

Billy leaned forward a couple inches more just to annoy Steve. The drop in front of him was dizzying, the water looking like a rippling sheet of glass. “What, you don’t think I can hold on?”

“I think it’s stupid to risk it,” Steve said, looking like he wanted nothing more than to yank Billy back. “Just sit back or something, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

Billy rolled his eyes but leaned back. “Only because you brought this fancy-ass bottle of whiskey.”

“Yeah, thanks. That was a real nice move on my part apparently.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, passing the bottle back and forth until they were both laid out on the grass, balancing the line between tipsy and drunk. Billy wasn’t sure when the moon had slipped behind clouds, making it too dark to see anything clearly, but it wasn’t like he was complaining about it. When it was dark he didn’t have to worry about shit like body language and facial expressions. You could hide in the dark, envelop yourself in it until you couldn’t tell where you ended and the darkness began.

“You miss California?”

The question was so out of the blue that Billy didn’t even comprehend what Steve was asking him. “What?”

“California. Do you miss it?”

Billy looked in the direction that he thought Steve was. “You serious?”

“Fair point,” Steve said with a small laugh. “Hawkins is probably the lamest place you’ve ever been.”

“Nah,” Billy said, taking a long drag from the whiskey. “I’ve been lamer. Hawkins does suck ass though, I’ll give it that.”

“No waves here.”

And damn, if Billy didn’t miss the waves. Being able to leave his house on a Saturday morning, nothing but him and a surfboard, no one to tell him what to do. It was heaven, plain and simple. Sometimes he felt like if he stared at the Hawkins cornfields long enough they’d turn into the ocean, rippling waves of water instead of corn. It was stupid, he knew that, but every once in a while it helped.

“Yeah, no waves here.”

Steve sighed. “Are you going back?”

“To Cali?”

“When you graduate.”

Billy shrugged, even though Steve couldn’t see. “I hope so. But honestly anywhere other than here is good enough for me.”

Steve reached out, fingers tapping Billy’s shoulder to let him know to pass the bottle. “What about New York?”

Billy snorted, slapping the bottle into Steve’s waiting hand. “There aren’t any motherfuckin’ beaches in New York, Harrington.”

“Well you don’t have to live in the city,” Steve said, pausing to take a drink. “But New York is on the coast, they have beaches.”

“I mean, if you want to freeze your ass off. You gotta go out west, get the sun on your face. The only thing up there is rocks and ice-water.”

“And who made you the expert decision maker on beaches?”

Billy’s hand brushed against Steve’s arm and then he had the bottle again. “Last time I checked I’m the only one here who’s seen a goddamn beach.”

“How the hell would you know if I’ve ever seen a beach?”

Billy felt a tug on his shirt sleeve and let the bottle roll from his hand to Harrington’s. “It’s kind of obvious dipshit. You’ve never been outside of Hawkins.”

“Screw you Hargrove, my grandparents live an hour away. That’s a whole new town.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Steve laughed and then sat up, clicking on a flashlight. Billy cursed, lifting up his head and then his hand to block the ray of light from blinding him. “Fuck──What the hell, Harrington?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, pointing the flashlight away from Billy. “I didn’t want to trip.”

“Who the fuck carries a flashlight around?” Billy asked, letting his head fall back against the ground. “You leaving now?”

“You aren’t? We have school tomorrow.”

“I know.”

Steve frowned, pointing the flashlight back in Billy’s face. “So are you leaving?”

“Steve!” Billy yelled. “Stop pointing the goddamn light in my face. And no I’m not leaving.”

Steve moved the flashlight down an inch and kicked a stray rock towards Billy. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Cool. Fuck off.”

“Man, c’mon. It’s not safe when it’s this dark. What if you trip on something and fall?”

Billy folded his arms underneath his head. “Hang on, I’m trying to remember when I asked for your opinion.”

Steve turned the flashlight onto his own face, giving Billy a scowl.  It sent deep shadows spilling across his face, making him look like a demon and a petulant toddler at the same time. If Billy wasn’t annoyed at him for acting like a prick he’d laugh at it.

Steve dropped his arm and pulled his keys from his pocket. “Ok, fine. See you at school tomorrow. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Billy asked as Steve trudged back towards his car. Steve didn’t respond and Billy propped himself up onto his elbows. “Harrington! Sorry for what?”

Except the only reply he got was the sound of the car engine as Steve drove away. Just wonderful, some more vague words and actions. Max definitely learned it from Harrington. Billy huffed, pushing himself to his feet. It was getting chilly, too chilly even for the whiskey, and he thought it was about time to migrate to his car. He snatched up the whiskey bottle that Steve had left on the ground, tossing it into the backseat as he climbed in after it.  

It wasn’t the roomiest place to sleep, that was for sure, but it was out of the cold and leaps and bounds better than trying to sleep outside. And after that night with Hopper he had made sure to stow an extra blanket in the car at all times. Like hell was he going to end up owing another small-town cop a jacket.

He sprawled out lazily on the backseat, the blanket balled up under his head to act as a makeshift pillow. He had set his watch to go off at 6, which would give him plenty of time to get home, get changed, and get to school on time. He’d done this dance enough times in both Cali and Hawkins to have the timing down to the second. There was a delicate balance of being early enough to appease his dad, but not too early as to give him time to find a reason to be angry.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion pressing at his temples like a headache. He was going to have a real headache in the morning, a nasty one if you looked at how much whiskey he had drank with Steve. It wouldn’t be enough to stop him from doing it again, but it would definitely ruin his mood tomorrow morning. He really hoped Max didn’t pull out the attitude in the car.

He was half asleep when he heard tires spitting up gravel for the second time that night. He ignored it, shifting his back to get into a more comfortable decision. If Steve was back for his alcohol then he was out of luck. No way was Billy going to be handing that liquid gold over. Besides, he was already half asleep, hopefully Steve would see that he wasn’t awake and just leave. He honestly wasn’t a hundred percent sure why he had come back to begin with.

Maybe he had brought back more fancy alcohol. Billy wouldn’t complain about that. Though it was pretty late for Harrington to be coming back for a second round. Maybe he had forgotten something? It was pretty dark out, Steve had probably just lost something and was coming back to look for it. Probably the whiskey.

The footsteps that followed were heavy. Too heavy to be Steve. Billy’s eyes snapped open and he froze, fingers curling around the edge of the car seat. Was it Neil? If Neil had taken the effort to track Billy down then he was absolutely fucked. His breathing became shallow as he strained his ears, listening for his name to get called.

The footsteps approached his car and Billy started praying, his heart skipping a beat or two from the fear. Dear God, please let it not be his Dad. The steps stopped and then a flashlight was pointed through the window, lighting up the backseat. “Billy? Is that you, son?”

Billy let out the breath he was holding, the fear rushing out of his body so fast it almost made him dizzy. It was just goddamn Chief Hopper. Of course it fucking was. Just one night of not having to deal with people, that was all he asked for. One night. But as it stood, he didn’t feel like getting arrested again, so he sat up and slid over to the door, opening it up to send Hopper a glare. “What do you want?”

“Shit, kid. It’s two in the morning, what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Enjoying the damn nature scene. What are you doing out here.”

Hopper frowned, giving Billy a quick once-over that made him feel way too exposed. “Someone was concerned about you being out here by yourself this late at night, so I came to check on you. And they’re damn right, the quarry isn’t safe at night. You get too close to the edge and you could fall without even seeing where you tripped.”

Billy’s mouth fell open as his mind flashed back to Steve’s parting apology. “The little fucker!”

Hopper looked taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Steve motherfucking Harrington. I’m going to beat his scrawny ass. How about you go tell him where to shove his damn concern.”

“Kid, let’s not add assault charges to the list you’ve already got.”

“Half that list is bullshit and you know it.”

“Half that list is not bullshit, because everything on that list is something I caught you doing.” Hopper said drily, shining his flashlight into Billy’s eyes and ignoring the string of curses that fell out of Billy’s mouth. “And yep, would you look at that. Someone is drunk yet again.”

“I’m not drunk,” Billy protested, trying to blink the floating spots from his vision. “I’m like, barely buzzed. Which shouldn’t even be a crime.”

“How about this, there’s a steep cliff 10 feet from the front of your car, all you need to be is a little buzzed and then you’d fall to your death. Did you think of that?”

“Course I fucking thought of that,” Billy said, flashing Hopper a sharp smile. “Why do you think I parked so close?”

Hopper raised an eyebrow, his hand stilling as an odd look flashed across his face. “I don’t think I like what you just said right there. You need to talk about anything?”

Billy was quickly realizing that the people of Hawkins did not know how to take a joke. Like c’mon, if he was actually going to jump he wouldn’t broadcast it to a damn police officer. And a cliff? Are you serious? If Billy ever did decide to off himself it wouldn’t be all dramatic like that. He had tact, thank you very much.

“Jeez, it was a goddamn joke,” he said, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars. “I don’t need to talk about anything.”

“Okay.” Hopper said, nodding. “But if you ever change your mind I’m always open.”

“Great, just wonderful.” Billy muttered, lifting his hands to glare at Hopper. “Do you have any actual reason to be here besides doing Harrington’s social calls?”

“Why yes, actually I do,” Hopper said, straightening. “Let me go get it.”

Billy stared at Hopper’s retreating back and pinched himself on the arm. He had to be dreaming. This was some weird freakish nightmare where he got bothered by everyone in the immediate vicinity, and soon he’d wake up to complete silence and solitude. An alcohol induced fever-dream that would wear off in the morning.

Hopper came back into view a few minutes later, lugging a goddamn folding chair. Billy watched in amazement as the Chief placed it right in front of Billy’s open car door, settling into it with a deep sigh. He reached up and pulled off his hat, placing it in his lap like he was going to be there a while.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked, narrowing his eyes at Hopper.

Hopper just shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Well, the way I look at it I have a moral responsibility. I know you’re drunk, but getting on your case about that would be incredibly hypocritical considering I did the exact same at your age. However, what I cannot and will not allow is you driving while intoxicated. And since you don’t have the greatest track record with following the rules, I figure the only way to ensure you stay safe is to keep an eye on you. So here we are.”

“Let’s go back a few fucking steps,” Billy said. “You’re going to sit in that stupid chair all night and watch me?”

“Unless you want to go home, and in that case I can drive you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

Billy let out a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to drive tonight Chief, I was literally trying to sleep. Where the fuck l would I even go? It’s two in the goddamn fucking morning.”

Hopper leaned back into his chair, eyeing Billy with a scrutinizing look. “Well then you don’t have to worry. You mind telling me why you’re sleeping in your car to begin with?”

“Yes, I do mind.” Billy bit out, leaning his head back against the headrest. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“Alright then, how’s school treating you?”

“School?”

“You’re a junior right? That’s a pretty tough year, how are you holding up?”

If Billy hadn’t pinched himself 5 minutes ago he would definitely think he was hallucinating. How was he doing in school? What kind of a question was that? He hadn’t answered that question since the fifth grade. It wasn’t like anyone cared enough to ask after his mom left, and Billy was a little concerned at how utterly floored he was by the question.

“It’s uh,” he coughed to rid his voice of the tightness that had decided to make an appearance. “It’s alright. My grades are fine and shit, so it’s not like I’m failing.”

“That’s good,” Hopper said, nodding. “You got a favorite class?”

“Is study hall an option?”

Hopper laughed, a deep genuine laugh that made Billy smile too despite his best efforts. “Nice try. No it’s not an option. Give me an actual class.”

Billy thought about it, wrinkling his nose a little. What was his favorite class? Not Science, and definitely not English. “I guess math?”

“Yeah? What do you like about it?”

Billy shrugged running his thumb over a hole on the hem of his jeans. “It’s like just numbers and shit. And there’s always a right answer. It’s really straightforward or whatever, and teachers can’t mark you wrong just because they don’t agree with you.”

“Can’t argue with that one kid,” Hopper said, throwing Billy another easy smile. “You plan on doing anything related to math when you go to college?”

Billy snorted, feeling the hole in his jeans rip further as he pulled on it. “I have a part-time job as a lifeguard, I don’t know how I’m supposed to afford college on that.”

There was a small pause as Hopper absorbed what Billy had said. The only noise was the rustle of leaves as they spun across the rocks, tumbling into Hopper’s shoes as he looked at Billy. Billy was hit with the sudden longing to be one of those leaves. Weightless and with no responsibility, free to blow wherever the wind took him.

“You ever think about applying for any scholarships?”

And oh God, if Billy hadn’t thought of that. Back in Cali he used to scour the library scholarship books, scrawling down ones he thought he could apply for in his chicken-scratch handwriting. College had seemed like salvation back then, something to hold on to when things got hard and his Dad hit harder. But he’d left it on his desk one day, out in the open for his Dad to see. Neil had fed it and his library card to the shredder with a promise that Billy “wasn’t near smart enough to go to college, and if I catch you wasting your time like this again I’ll whip the reminder into your ass.” And the older Billy got the more he realized that his Dad was right. College was for the smart kids with good grades and proud parents. Billy was gonna end up doing something stupid or he was going to end up dead, and the sooner he accepted it the better.

“They’re long shots,” was what he settled for, the hole in his jeans now the size of a quarter. “I don’t have the grades for it.”

“I thought you said your grades were fine?”

“I get A’s and B’s Chief, and scholarships are for the all A’s kids. Don’t worry, I’m not getting my hopes up or anything.”

Hopper made a disbelieving sound but didn’t push it. “If you say so.”

Billy shrugged and then sat up straight, his eyes widening. “Oh shit Chief, I gotta give you your jacket back.” He reached over into the passenger seat, grabbing the jacket from where it was folded up. He leaned back into his seat and then tossed it into Hopper’s lap. “There you go."

“Thanks kid,” Hopper said. “You know, you can borrow it if you want to.

Man, did Billy wish he could keep that jacket. It was warmer than anything he had, and it was the nicest jacket he’d ever worn. But as it was he didn’t want to owe the Chief anything, not even a borrowed jacket. So he just shook his head, crossing his arms in front of him. “Nah, I’m good.”

Hopper shrugged, draping the jacket over one of the arms of his chair. “It’s pretty damn warm, let me know if you change your mind.”

Billy closed his eyes, letting the silence cover him like a blanket. While it was still weird as hell that someone was watching him sleep, he couldn’t deny that the Chief’s presence made him feel safer. Not that he was scared of sleeping alone in his car in an abandoned quarry or anything. It was just nice knowing that someone gave a shit about what happened to him. Even if that person happened to be the town’s Police Chief.

Billy could feel himself slipping into sleep and he cracked his eyes open one more time to look at the Chief. Hopper was still in the chair, leaning forward with his arms braced against his legs. He was staring out into the quarry, a soft frown on his face. Billy closed his eyes again, letting the exhaustion wipe over him like a wave. At least he wouldn’t get mauled by a wolf or anything tonight.

Chapter Text

When Billy’s watch alarm awoke him the Chief was gone, the only evidence of his presence was the jacket that he had tried to give back, which was now draped over Billy like a blanket. He scrubbed the grit from his eyes, the jacket falling off his chest as he sat up. He sighed as he stared at the jacket, the brown pile of fabric seeming more like a millstone than a clothing piece. 

Damn Hopper. He hated owing people stuff.

He grimaced and tossed it back into the passenger seat, swinging himself into the driver’s seat. He was still half asleep, and his head was pounding like a bitch, but school waited for no man. He shifted into reverse and spun out of the quarry, tires kicking up clouds of dirt. Here he went again.

The next couple of weeks flew by in a haze of schoolwork and chauffeuring the little brat around. He’d been making it a goal to lay low at home, and had been rewarded for his efforts with no big run-ins with his dad. His classes were laying off on the homework, the basketball team was undefeated, and things were finally looking a little less hopeless. For the first time in a while Billy could see a little candle flame at the end of the long tunnel.

He began actually talking to Steve at school (after ripping him a new one for setting Hopper on him) and was pleasantly surprised at the meaningful conversations that came out of it. Steve was actually really smart, something he didn’t let on when you first talked to him. Billy began to look forward to lunch, as for the first time he actually cared about talking with someone. After months of Tommy’s idiocy, the sudden appearance of brain cells was a godsend.

He'd even been running into Hopper a lot lately. Whether it was in the supermarket or parked up in some old abandoned field, the Chief somehow had a knack for appearing right when Billy felt like he was at the end of his rope. He didn’t push or anything, didn’t act all big and blustery like the cops back in California. He simply showed up, made Billy give him an update on what was going on in his life, and then left. It left Billy with weird mixed feelings, but he wasn’t about to go investigating them. Things were good, no need to purposely mess that up. Not to mention that Hopper was always finding ways to leave his jacket in Billy’s possession. In the car, in his backpack, in Max’s backpack, it always turned up after Billy gave it back. He couldn’t get rid of the damn thing.

And then he fucked it up. Like he always did. One bad grade on a test, a couple words that were a little too mouthy for Neil’s taste, and Billy found himself racing down a backroad with a busted lip and sore ribs. He didn’t even bother with the alcohol this time, there was enough adrenaline racing through his veins to put whatever liquor he had to shame. He wasn’t sure where he was going, all he knew was that he wanted to drive fast enough so that the marks on his skin couldn’t catch up. He wanted to leave Hawkins in the dust, his bruises right along with it.

He pushed his car to 80 before skidding off into a clearing on the side of the road, a choked noise ripping its way out of his throat as he slammed his fists into his steering wheel. He shoved his car door open, stumbling out onto the grass with jerky movements. He dropped to his knees and just sat there, the coolness of the grass seeping through the jeans and into his skin. He let out a deep shuddering breath, bracing his hands against his knees as he tried to cool the fire that was raging in his chest. His face was screwed up with the effort of trying not to cry and he uttered a soft “shit” when a couple stray tears slipped out anyway.

He wiped his cheeks roughly with the palm of his hands, blinking quickly to try and stop the tears that wouldn’t seem to stop coming. Because Billy didn’t cry when his ass got handed to him, and especially not when it was his dad. So Billy was going to sit down right on this grass and wish the lump in his throat would go away. It was actually a decent hour of the day, and Billy felt weird being out like this when it wasn’t the middle of the night. Now all he needed was for Hopper to show up to make it feel like tradition.

It was honestly like the guy had some sort of superpower. Or an alarm that went off whenever Billy got his ass kicked and/or was about to do something stupid. In fact, Billy would give the guy half an hour before he rolled up in that brown truck of his. He had probably started patrolling the backroads more thoroughly now, just so he could annoy the shit out of Billy whenever he felt like it.

Billy shuffled backwards so he was sitting with his legs out in front of him and pulled a pack of smokes out of his pocket. Nothing like a post-beating smoke, that was for damn sure. His lighter wasn’t cooperating like it should have, his hands were too shaky to hold it properly, but he managed to get a small flicker going that was just big enough to light the end of his cigarette. He took a long deep drag, holding his breath until he couldn’t anymore. The smoke looked gray and hazy, swirling away from him like ribbons.

He glanced back over at the road after an hour or so, the empty stretch of dirt looking like it was taunting him. Not that he was expecting Hopper to come looking for him or anything, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a little disappointed that the man hadn’t done his magic appearing act. He had gotten used to the way Hopper would show up and look actually interested in what was going on in Billy’s life.

His cigarette was nothing but a stub now, but he still rolled it between his fingers, pretending there was still something valuable left in the rolled paper. He hadn’t really thought things through when he pulled over here, and he was starting to wonder what he was going to do for the rest of the night. His Dad had been very clear that he wasn’t allowed back until the next morning, so he had a whole night to kill.

He frowned and crushed the cigarette stub between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling himself to his feet by the car door handle. Might as well get some miles in, practice that quick turn he’d been wanting to master. Except when he looked over at the road he could see a brown truck coming towards him, the sun glinting off the windshield to blind Billy. He shaded his eyes with a hand, trying to ignore the leap his heart made at the thought of the car being Hopper’s.

But when the car got closer Billy could see that it was Hopper’s truck, rolling down the road like it knew where it was going. He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head at the sight of it. The sonofabitch really managed to find Billy everywhere, didn’t he? He leaned back against his car, watching as the truck ambled up to the clearing, digging lines of dirt into the field as it sputtered to a halt. A couple seconds later Hopper was out of the car, walking up to Billy with his ‘what are you up to this time’ look on his face. Billy had seen it enough these past couple of weeks to be able to distinguish it easily now.

“Hey kid,” he said, hands resting on his belt. “Quarry too boring?”

Billy shrugged. Not like he was going to tell him that this was the first empty spot he had seen and if he didn’t pull over right then he would have ran into a ditch because the tears were coming fast and he was especially reckless at times like that.

Hopper nodded. “You alright? Need any help with that lip?”

Billy grimaced. “It’s fine. You should see the other guy.”

It was a tradition at that point. Hopper tried to mask his concern by simply commenting in the detached off-hand way he knew Billy was comfortable with, and Billy responded back with a worn-out platitude that hinted of an equal fair fight, one in which Billy gave as much as he got. It was a flimsy, see-through thing, but Hopper seemed to sense that Billy needed that defense, needed Hopper’s interest but not his action.

And Billy? It was enough for Billy just to have someone show up like that. To not shove themselves headfirst into his business like the teachers tried to do when he was younger, all “how’d you get that bruise Billy?” and “is everything okay at home? How about you go talk to the counselor” like anything he said would make a difference. He preferred Hopper’s laid-back easy way of being there, just a word or two of acknowledgment before asking about the other parts of Billy’s life. Sometimes Billy forgot he had other parts to his life besides his Dad’s fists.

“Got any plans this weekend?”

“Nah, just driving Max around and shit. Maybe going to the theater. They have that new action flick out and it looks awful, but it’s funny to go laugh at them you know?” Billy scrubbed the back of his hand across his cheek in an offhand manner to wipe off any remaining tear tracks, hoping it didn’t look like he had been crying.

“Sure. I used to do that all the time when I was in high school, it never gets old. How’s basketball going? You win your last game?”

“You know, there’s not much to do in this shit town, you could actually go watch one instead of bugging me all the time for the latest score,” Billy said, rolling his eyes. It was only after the words had floated out did he realize that it sounded like he had just asked Hopper to come watch him play. Shit.

Hopper’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and he smiled at Billy. “That’s a really good point. When’s your next game?”

“Uh… it’s two weeks from now. That Friday,” Billy stammered, trying to figure out whether his earlier sentence had sounded desperate or not. He hadn’t meant to come across like some clingy kid, desperate for someone to come watch his stupid sports game. Neil even went to his games, standing on the sidelines and glaring whenever Billy made a stupid play. But he clapped too, short brisk noises that Billy could hear even among the yells of his classmates. Billy lived for those claps.

“Well great, I’ll have to stop by then.”

Billy nodded way too quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. He scuffed his shoe against the ground, trying to figure out where to take the conversation now. Because he had definitely looked over-eager.  He’d probably shown his stupid excitement all over his stupid face. Like a stupid little kid. Which was stupid.

Hopper saved him from having to think any further when he pulled out a pack of smokes, looking to Billy expectantly. “You got a light?”

Billy fished his lighter out of his pocket, holding it out to Hopper with an expectant look. “Only if you bum me one.”

Hopper raised an eyebrow, grabbing the lighter from Billy’s hand. “Nice try kid. I’m always going to be a hypocrite on this one. You want to kill your lungs, you find your own cigarettes.”

“Jerk,” Billy muttered, but he didn’t fight for the lighter back. He could always light one up later when Hopper had left.

Hopper just huffed out a laugh, tossing the lighter back to Billy. “Punk.”

Billy leaned back against his car, grimacing as the door handle dug into a bruise on his back. Hopper looked at Billy and worked his jaw around the cigarette in his mouth. And Billy was so goddamn tired. He wondered what would happen if he just lifted his shirt, showed Hopper the evidence first-hand and hoped for an outcome that wouldn’t end with a hospital visit.

Hopper suddenly nodded firmly, pointing at Billy with his cigarette. “What time do you need to be home?”

“Tomorrow morning, why?”

“I’m commissioning you for labor. I’m in the middle of painting my house and I could use the extra hands, so get in that car of yours and follow me.”

“What if I don’t want to paint your fucking house?” Billy griped, staring Hopper down.

Hopper just raised his eyebrow and stared right back. “You got anything better to do tonight?”

“I mean, fair enough,” Billy said. “I better at least get food out of this though.”

“Got you covered kid.”

Hopper lived farther away than he had expected, and he was both confused yet totally unsurprised when they ended up in the woods. Because if there was anyone in this town who would live in a cabin in the woods it was the Chief. The cabin itself was a wooden, rickety little thing, but it had a homely feeling to it. He could hear chirping coming from the numerous trees that surrounded the house, and Billy was struck with the feeling of being in a different world entirely than the cookie-cutter developments they had left behind.

“It’s a bit of a mess,” Hopper said as he led Billy up the porch stairs. “El never cleans up anything, and I’m not much better. But we got started already, so there’s not much left to do?”

“Who’s El?”

“My daughter.”

Billy almost tripped. “You have a daughter?!”

Hopper opened the door, knocking on the doorway as he entered. “El, I’m back!” Then, addressing Billy, “Watch your step. She’s friends with Max, I’m sure you’ve seen her around.”

Billy frowned. “Jane?”

“Yep.”

“Well, shit.” Billy muttered, scratching his arm. “That’s why you know Max so well.”

Hopper seemed to find that comment funny and he laughed. “That’s probably a good way to put it.”

Billy stepped through the door, taking in the cabin’s small interior. It wasn’t anything special, a living room and a door leading to what he assumed was a bedroom, but it looked lived in and cozy. Despite the tarp laid out by the wall and cans of paint scattered in the corners, the half-painted walls didn’t detract from the warm feeling it gave off.  The sofa was piled with blankets, the rug looked like it had been worn down by years of use, and pictures obviously drawn by a child were hung up on the walls. It felt like a home.

“You’re early.”

Billy looked over at the sound of the voice to see Jane—or “El” as Hopper had called her—poking her head out the bedroom, squinting at Hopper suspiciously.

“Hey kiddo,” Hopper said, ruffling her hair as he walked by to get to the kitchen. “I’m going to finish painting the walls. That’s Billy over there, he’s going to help me. You want to help us finish too?”

“Yes,” El said, pointing at Billy with a finger that was connected to an arm dwarfed by one of Hopper’s flannels. “He’s Max’s brother.”

“The one and only,” Hopper said, a handful of paintbrushes now in his possession.

Billy shuffled his feet awkwardly, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and nodding towards El. “Hey. Nice shirt.”

She beamed at that, lifting her arms up as if to show how big it was on it. “It’s mine now.”

“You’re a little thief, that’s what you are,” Hopper grumbled with a smile. “You’re going to steal all my clothes eventually.”

“Yes.” El declared proudly. “Eggos too.”

Billy laughed, taking the paintbrush that Hopper held out to him. “So that’s why I ate Eggos at the station.”

“She’s a menace to society.” Hopper gestured towards the far wall, handing Billy a can of paint as well. “You mind starting on that wall right there? I’ll start on that one and then we can just meet in the middle. Don’t mind El, she’ll just float around and paint everywhere.”

“Sure, no problem.” Billy said, hauling the paint to where Hopper had indicated. He had lots of practice with painting anyways. When Neil had decided to redo their old house back in Cali—an anniversary present to Susan—he had been too cheap to hire any workers, not when he had his own free labor living in his house. Billy had spent an entire summer doing nothing but construction and housework, painting and sanding and screwing in kitchen door cabinets.

And then as soon as they moved here to Hawkins, Neil had decided that a new paint job was in order. Inside and out, a bland beige color that felt like a visual representation of their new town. Susan had clapped and giggled when it was finally finished, thanking Neil like he had been the one to sweat his ass off in the Hawkins summer heat. Billy had wanted to smack the vapid look right off her face.

He tried not to think about those times as he painted Hopper’s walls gray, taking extra care around the edges. This time at least he was indoors, and there was no one scrutinizing his work like Billy’s well-being depended on it. El appeared next to him from time to time like Hopper had said, painting little squares with a deep concentration before scampering back over to Hopper’s wall.

It was pretty cute, and Billy made sure to shoot the kid a little smile whenever she looked at him. She would always smile back, poking Billy in the leg with her paintbrush and laughing when it left paint marks on his jeans He could see why Max was friends with her.

It wasn’t until Hopper placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder, startling him, did Billy realize just how much time had passed. “You scared the shit out of me,” he breathed, rubbing his forehead. “What time is it?”

“About 9. Are you ok with casserole?”

“Casserole?”

“For dinner,” Hopper explained. “It’s leftover night. I can try and fix up something else if you’re not a fan though.”

“No, no,” Billy quickly amended. “I like casserole, casserole is good. Thank you. It’s just that you don’t have to do that, I was kidding when I said you had to feed me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hopper said, giving Billy’s shoulder a quick squeeze before heading into the kitchen. “Otherwise this would be forced labor. And as the Chief of police, I cannot endorse that kind of behavior.”

“That’s not-I don’t want to steal your food.”

“It’s not stealing if I’m giving it to you,” Hopper said dryly. “El, how about you set the table.”

“I can help,” Billy said, starting towards the kitchen. He felt bad about just standing around and watching them get food ready, he wanted to be useful.

“Sit down,” Hopper said, gently turning Billy away from the kitchen and towards the table. “You just saved me a week of work.”

El placed the plates down firmly on the table in front of Billy, offering him an impressive glare. “Sit.”

Billy huffed out a small smile, dropping down into a seat. “Okay then.”

El nodded her approval, marching back into the kitchen to grab silverware. Billy rested his chin on his hand and wondered where he was going to sleep tonight. The quarry was always a solid option, but he felt like he should expand his arsenal a little. Maybe he could go back to that clearing he was in earlier. It was quiet enough, and far enough along a backroad that it wouldn’t get much traffic.

Hopper interrupted his decision making when he sat a steaming casserole in the middle of the table. The cheese on top was bubbling and Billy wondered if it was possible for food to look that good. Or smell that good, holy shit was that pasta?

Billy thought he could have almost started crying when Hopper placed a giant pile of casserole on his plate, followed by green beans and a yeast roll. El let out a huff of annoyance when Hopper refused to give her Eggos, but Hopper didn’t get mad, didn’t slam the table like Neil did when he was pissed off. Billy had waited for it, his fork frozen half-way to his mouth in anticipation, but it had never arrived. And Billy thought that the absence of the anger was almost more stressful than the anger itself.

It seemed impossible that someone as big and loud as the Chief didn’t explode like Neil did. The bigger the guy the harder he hit. That was how it went. Honestly, Billy didn’t understand Hopper one bit. 

He ate every bite on his plate and got seconds when he was offered, making sure to say thank you even when Hopper just waved him off. Jane spent the entire meal chattering about what she had done that day, fueled by nods and well-placed noises of acknowledgment from Hopper. He looked at her like she was the most important thing in his life and it made Billy’s chest hurt.

When everyone had cleared their plates, Hopper leaned back in his chair and fixed Billy with a look. “Where were you planning on sleeping tonight kid?”

Billy shrugged, pushing the casserole remnants around his plate with a fork. “Not sure. Maybe the quarry. Why?”

“I think you should sleep here tonight and take the couch. I don’t feel comfortable with you sleeping out in your car like that, it’s not safe.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I mean it, kid. You’re staying.”

Billy twisted to look at the couch and then back at Hopper. “Like, here? With you guys?”

“Yeah.”

Billy frowned. “Where would you sleep?”

“There’s an extra cot in the garage, I’ll just use that.”

“I don’t want to take your bed.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hopper said, standing up and grabbing his and Billy’s plates. “I was phrasing it as a suggestion to be nice, but it’s more of an order. You’re either sleeping here or I’m arresting you for loitering and forcing you to sleep here. Your choice.”

“Well shit,” Billy said with a small laugh, pressing the heels of his palm against his eyes. “That’s a real convincing argument right there Chief.”

“I know it is,” Hopper said, the plates clattering as he dropped them in the sink. “You need clothes to sleep in?”

Billy dropped his palms to look at Hopper before glancing down at his jeans and jean jacket. It wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in these, it never was, but wearing Hopper’s clothes felt like getting too close to something he wanted to avoid. He’d be fine as he was. He was going to change clothes when he went back to his own house anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

“I’m fine, I can just sleep in this.”

“If you say so,” Hopper shrugged. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Billy sat at the kitchen table for about half an hour, watching Hopper do the dishes as El sat across from him, flipping through a magazine and swinging her feet back and forth. He had tried to get up and offer his help but had once again been turned away, Hopper stating that Billy had done enough already. Billy disagreed but he wasn’t about to fight the guy on it.

The sound of running water was the only sound in the cabin, and Billy wondered what his house would feel like if his Dad was as quiet as Hopper. Neil liked making his presence known, shouting orders and slamming doors. You could feel when he was in the room, a thick, weighted tension that grew heavier when he got angry. There was no relaxing in the Hargrove household, no swinging feet at the kitchen table.

Billy even wondered what the house would be like if his mom had stayed. She had been Billy’s safe haven, all soft kisses and gentle hugs to balance Neil’s hard hands. If she hadn’t left maybe she would have been able to temper Neil, been able to keep his anger from boiling over. But Billy was hopeful, not naïve. His mom left because she hadn’t been able to do what Billy wished she could. He didn’t blame her for getting out when she could, but he did blame her for leaving him behind. He didn’t understand why she thought he could do what she couldn’t.

“It’s about time for El to go to bed, I think you should try and sleep now too.”

Billy glanced up at Hopper. “Sure, whatever.”

Hopper nodded before rounding the table, giving El’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Time for bed kid.”

El grabbed her magazine and smiled at Billy, giving him a little wave. “Bye.”

Billy smiled and gave her a little wave back, watching as she skipped past Hopper and towards the bathroom. He watched her spin in a little circle as she brushed her teeth, staggering around like she’d just got off a rollercoaster. She reminded him of Max.

“There’s extra toothbrushes in the box underneath the sink, and you can just use one of the toothpastes that’s already open. I’m going to go set up the extra cot in El’s room, how about you go brush your teeth.”

“Uh, okay.”

Hopper nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Billy stared after him for a couple seconds and then pinched himself, digging his nails into the skin on his inner arm. It hurt, which meant he wasn’t dreaming. He rubbed the red mark he had made and wished he had a cigarette. This was so goddamn confusing.

Chapter Text

Billy slipped out of Hopper’s cabin before anyone woke up, folding up the blanket he had been given and making sure it looked like he had never been there at all. He realized as soon as he closed the door behind him that Hopper had driven him here in his car, meaning that Billy’s car was still in the clearing a couple miles away. Shit. Billy sighed and tucked in his shirt where it had come undone, starting down the driveway. Might as well start walking now.

The sun was just rising as he trekked along the side of the road, and it sent a warm glow settling over the chilly morning air. Billy took a deep breath in, letting the crisp air rush in and flood out the feelings swirling around in his chest. He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, and he hoped that he would get to his house at a time that his dad would consider appropriate. 

Except now that he thought about it, he wasn’t exactly sure how to get back to his car. He stopped where he was and turned, realizing that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He hadn’t paid attention when Hopper drove them to his cabin, and he could see now that had been a stupid mistake on his part. 

“Shit,” he muttered, resting his hands on top of his head. How the hell was he supposed to get home? It was too goddamn early in the morning for anyone to be out driving, and he couldn’t see another house for miles. The thought of trying to find his way back to Hopper’s cabin to beg for a ride was humiliating, never mind the fact that driving Billy around was the last thing the chief would want to do. 

But on the other hand, he really didn’t have much of a choice. He needed to get home on time, and he couldn’t see any other viable option. Billy sighed and then started walking back in the direction he came, kicking the stray rocks he found on the way. 

Half an hour and three wrong turns later Billy stood in front of the cabin door, hands shoved in his pocket as he tried to work up the nerve to knock. It was still early, what if they were still asleep? Waking people up early was a one-way ticket to a busted nose, and Billy really didn’t feel like starting off his morning like that.

He was a second away from getting it over with and knocking on the door when it swung open and Hopper rushed through the doorway, colliding with Billy before he could stop himself. Billy was knocked backwards and he almost fell down the stairs before Hopper reached out and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back upright.

“Holy shit kid,” Hopper breathed, his hand still on Billy’s arm. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Uh, I was trying to find my car.”

“You were going to walk all the way to the field?”

“Yes?”

Hopper’s hand fell back down to his side. “I was going to drive you, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Billy just stared at Hopper. Was he serious? Wake up the man who could flatten him with a single punch? Did he think he was suicidal or something? “You don’t need to drive me, just tell me where it is and I can walk.”

“Billy, get in the car,” Hopper said, brushing by Billy as he went down the stairs. “You’re talking stupid. And this is a stupid-free zone.”

This was like a rollercoaster. Billy couldn’t predict what the hell Hopper would say next, and he felt like he had been run through a wringer. Repeatedly. He turned on his heel and started after Hopper, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was too early to be doing this sort of emotional gymnastics.

“Were you just planning on walking around until you found your car?”

Billy looked away from the fields flying past his window. “I mean, yeah?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t drive you back?”

Billy shrugged. “It was early in the morning. And I was the one intruding, you shouldn’t have had to drive me all the way back to my car or whatever.”

“Billy, I was the one who invited you. It would be my responsibility to make sure you got back safe.”

Billy rubbed his forehead with his thumb. “Walking isn’t going to kill me, so how about you chill the fuck out.” His tone came out harsher than he had intended, but Hopper’s questions were making him feel too exposed. 

“How about next time you wake me the fuck up.” Hopper said, glancing over at Billy. “If you’re at my house, I’m responsible for you. So I’m telling you right now, if I’m not awake by the time you need to leave, you wake me up. Got it?”

And no, Billy does not “get it”. He doesn’t get one single fucking bit of this thing Hopper had going on here. He didn’t know what the man got out of this whole pity ride thing, but it sure as hell wasn’t anything Billy could see. And it terrified him. And hey, when Billy got scared, he got angry.

“No, I sure as hell don’t fucking “get it”,” he snapped, meeting Hopper’s level tone with a stare that he’d had years to perfect. “You act like I’m just supposed to go along with everything you say because you’re what, Chief of police? Fuck that.”

“Billy-“ Hopper started, but Billy didn’t let him finish.

“No, okay? Just slow down alright? You better tell me what the fuck this is or I swear I’ll jump out of this car right here. Right fucking here.”

There was a tense stretch of silence and Billy could hear himself breathing. He could feel the leather of the car seat under his fingers, and he started tracing circles on the tan material. He was still pissed, but now that he had gotten some of his anger out he started to wonder if maybe he had taken it a little too far. They were alone out here, and Hopper could lay Billy out and then walk away without consequences.

When Hopper did speak his voice was quieter, a little more gentle. “There’s no agenda here, son. I’m not trying to trick you, and I’m not going to get mad at you for waking me up in the morning. I don’t like you sleeping outside, alone, and so I’m doing something about it.”

They turned into the clearing where Billy’s car was parked, pulling up next to it. Billy wondered how rude it would be to just leave right this second without responding to Hopper’s statement. 

“I don’t know why you give a fuck where I sleep.”

“Because I do, okay? Stop thinking so hard.”

Billy shoved open the car door. “Fantastic. See you later Chief.”

Hopper sighed. “Ok, kid. I’ll see you around, alright?”

Billy gave him a sarcastic salute before ducking into his own car, desperate to escape the situation he had just placed himself in. He’d survived this long with the singular, mainline focus of getting out as soon as he turned 18, keeping his head down and rolling with the punches. Hopper had just shown up out of the blue, all big and intimidating like his dad, but with the exact opposite message. The way he talked to Billy sounded like he wanted Billy to keep his head up and stand his ground. That sure as hell sounded nice, but Billy didn’t know how to explain that a high chin and a straight back got you knocked to the ground way faster. And Billy didn’t know if he’d be able to get back up that time.

====================================================

The drive home for his perfunctory check-in with his dad was routine and anticipated, and so was the position he found himself in later, chauffeuring Max to the arcade. And then he had absolutely nothing to do with the three hours he had until he was supposed to drive Max back home. Or the time after that, when Neil had some of his work buddies over for dinner. He wasn’t allowed home for that fuckery.

He found himself walking down Main Street, trying to figure out how to occupy his time. Maybe if he wandered around long enough he could avoid having Hopper’s words make a reappearance in his head. Because then his head would try and add meaning that wasn’t there, and the last thing he needed to do was add imaginary weight to meaningless phrases.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the pebbles in his way, seeing how far he could launch them with just a kick. Maybe he could stop by the pharmacy, pick up some painkillers for the first aid kit he had in his car.

A few minutes later Billy pushed open the pharmacy door, the little bell above him ringing to announce his entrance. Joyce Byers popped out from behind a register, a wide smile on her face when she saw Billy. “Hi there Honey! I’ll be with you in just a second.”

“That’s okay,” Billy said awkwardly, offering her a pained smile. “I know what I’m looking for.”

“Well if you’re sure,” she said. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Billy just nodded and made a beeline for the medicine aisle, hoping they had something cheap. He rounded the corner and stuttered to a halt, taking in the image of Steve Harrington standing in the middle of the aisle, comparing two identical looking bottles.

“Forget your glasses Harrington?” he called, strolling over towards him. “Because I’m pretty sure those are the exact same thing.”

Steve glanced up at him in surprise, rolling his eyes when he saw Billy. “Very funny. And they’re two different brands, dipshit. So they aren’t the same thing.”

Billy reached over and grabbed one of the bottles from Steve, turning it over to read the label. “Are they not both painkillers? Sounds like the same shit to me. I’ll just take this one and save you the trouble.”

Steve sighed, grabbing another bottle identical to the one left in his hand off the shelf. “Sure, what the hell.”

Billy scanned the shelves and then grabbed some butterfly bandages and Band-Aids just to be safe. You could never have too many Band-Aids, that was a fact. He looked back over at Steve, raising an eyebrow. “You need anything else Harrington?”

“No, why the hell do you need butterfly bandages?”

Billy shrugged, knocking against Steve’s shoulder as he walked back out. “Always be prepared, isn’t that the motto?”

“You’re not a goddamn boy scout,” Steve said, giving Billy’s shoulder a returning shove. “And I didn’t take you for someone who liked to be prepared.”

“There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about me.”

“I’m taking that as a challenge.”

“Please don’t,” Billy said, heading towards Joyce’s register. “You’re annoying as fuck already, no need to add curious to that list.”

“Are you always this pleasant in the morning? I’m starting to think it’s a habit”

“Are you always this nosy? Because at this point I think it is a goddamn habit”

Steve laughed and quickened his steps, cutting in front of Billy as he reached the register. “Hey Ms. Byers, how are you?”

“I’m fine sweetie, how are you?”

Steve shrugged, pushing his bottles towards her. “I’m good. It’s just those.”

He leaned against the counter as Joyce rang him up, giving Billy a searching look. Billy raised an eyebrow and met his stare with one of his own. “The fuck you looking at Harrington.”

Joyce gave a small cough and planted her hands firmly on the counter, peering around Steve to give Billy a glare. “Watch the language in the pharmacy, boys.”

“Sorry,” Billy muttered contritely. He gave a childish kick to Steve’s knee, watching as the smug smile on his face turned into a grimace.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed, grabbing his knee. He yelped as Joyce knocked him upside the head, hopping a few steps backwards to get out of both her and Billy’s range. 

Steve, did I not just tell you to watch that mouth of yours?” Joyce asked, brandishing Steve’s purchases like a weapon. 

Steve nodded frantically. “Yes you did. That’s very much my bad. Sorry. I can take that for you.”

Joyce dropped the bag into his outstretched hand before leveling a finger at him. “Don’t forget we’re having dinner at my place tomorrow. If you make Dustin late I’m putting you on dish duty.”

“I’ve never been late ,” Steve protested. “That’s an unfair accusation.”

Joyce ignored his complaints and rang up Billy’s purchase, sliding the drugs and bandages into the bag with a practiced efficiency. “Is this all for you, honey?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She handed it over to him and gave his hand a pat. “You boys have a good day.”

Billy and Steve gave a chorus of thanks before bursting out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. 

“You asshole,” Steve grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “That kick hurt.”

“Get over it.”

Steve huffed a laugh and sat down on the curb, letting his bag fall over next to him. “What are you up to today?”

Billy rolled his eyes but dropped down next to him, the concrete still cool from the shade of the trees. “Nothing. I was driving Max to the arcade.”

“You know, for someone who says they can’t stand their sister, you sure do her a lot of favors.”

Billy snorted. “It’s not optional, Harrington. I drive her or I get my ass handed to me.”

Steve frowned, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Billy glanced over at Steve in surprise. There was too much concern in his tone and Billy knew he needed to backtrack here. He slapped an easy grin onto his face and relaxed his posture. “It means I have to listen to my dad drone on for an hour or so about my responsibilities. Do you ever want to fall asleep? I’ll send you a tape.”

Steve scoffed but some of the wariness lifted from his eyes and Billy counted that as a win. “Are you up for walking then?”

“Walking?”

“Yeah, you know,” Steve held up his hands and moved them back and forth like they were feet. “Walking.”

“I know what walking is,” Billy said, smacking Steve’s hands down. “The question is why the hell you want to go walking.”

Steve shrugged. “You got anything better to do?”

Billy narrowed his eyes at Steve for a moment and then let out a resigned sigh. “Not a damn thing. So let’s walk or whatever.”

“Well let me go put my bag away,” Steve muttered, pushing himself off the curb and jogging over to where his car was parked in front of the store. He threw his bag into the passenger seat and then looked over at Billy. “Want to throw your bag in here so you don’t have to carry it?”

Billy balled up the bag and threw a high arching toss to Steve. “Careful with the merchandise.”

Steve tossed it in and then rapped Billy’s head with his knuckles as he walked back, lifting his hand when Billy made a half-hearted swipe. “Well are you just going to sit there or what?”

Billy pushed himself to his feet and followed Steve, making sure to add enough surliness to his walk so he didn’t look like he had wanted to do this. He still had a reputation, after all. Steve was the slowest walker he had ever seen and Billy found himself having to make a conscious effort to not outpace the guy. The sly looks Steve kept giving him out of the corner of his eye let him know that he was doing it on purpose, but Billy was too stubborn to ask him to pick up the pace.

10 minutes into their crawl Steve cleared his throat. “Do you like sour candy?”

“What?” Billy asked, looking over at Steve.

“Sour candy,” Steve repeated, turning around so he was facing Billy and walking backwards. “Mr. Diaz will give us some for free.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

Steve rolled his eyes, turning back around and falling into step with Billy. “Unless you’ve been going to school with Rosa Diaz since first grade, no. But you are supposed to answer my question.”

“What the fuck sort of question is that?”

“Are you going to answer the question or not?”

“Sure, I like sour candy. Happy?”

“Absolutely thrilled,” Steve grinned, abruptly turning into a small corner shop. Billy sighed and followed him in, ducking his head to avoid hitting the light pink overhang. It smelled like sugar inside, and Billy was almost bowled over with the force of it. Steve was already up at the counter, sweet talking an exasperated looking older woman.

“C’mon Ms. Diaz, you know he’s back there. He owes me too.”

“You are lucky you’re cute,” she tutted, wagging a finger at Steve’s grinning face. “And you’re lucky you know how to do science.” She bustled into the back, shaking her head as she went. 

“Terrorizing the town women Harrington?”

Steve leaned against the counter and grinned back at Billy. “Nah, Ms. Diaz loves me. I help out Rosa with her science class and they pay me in candy. It’s a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Billy laughed, lifting up a box of chocolates from one of the display tables. “I can’t believe I’m in a fucking candy store with Steve Harrington.”

“Believe it,” Steve said, turning his attention back to the counter as Mr. Diaz walked out from the back. “Mr. Diaz! How’s your knee? Also, a 98. That’s at least two bags if you ask me. What do you say?”

Mr. Diaz gave a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Much better Steve, thank you for asking. Sour, sweet, chocolate, what were you thinking? You’re a rascal, but I’ll give you three bags for the new fridge decoration.”

Steve’s grin grew even bigger. “You’re the best Mr. Diaz. Seriously. And sour. All the way.”

“Don’t I know it,” he chuckled, shuffling away.

Steve spun around and waggled his eyebrows at Billy as Mr. Diaz went off to collect their candy. “What did I say. Candy.”

Billy laughed and put the box back down. “You did say candy.”

5 minutes later Billy and Steve were in an empty backlot, perched on the hood of Steve’s car, a half-empty bag of sour candy between them. Billy had eaten so many of the damn things that his tongue hurt, but it wasn’t going to stop him from eating any more. Steve was laying down atop the windshield, rolling a sour gumball around his mouth. He looked half-asleep, and Billy wondered how pissed Max would be if they fell asleep out here and he didn’t pick her up on time. Steve slapped another piece of candy into his hand and Billy realized that he didn’t care.

“When do you have to be home?” Steve asked, interrupting the quiet haze Billy had fallen into. 

“Tomorrow morning,” Billy muttered. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“The hell?” Steve said, his voice hoarse. “I thought your dad was strict?”

“He’s got a business thing, or some shit. Dinner with the boss. Lots of ass-kissing.”

“What does that have to do with your curfew?”

“I’m not exactly his biggest pride and joy. This here,” Billy said, waving a hand to gesture at his clothes. “Doesn’t really go with the whole “pretentious asshole” theme they have going on. So I have to fuck off.”

There was a short beat of silence, and the only thing Billy could hear was Steve’s breathing. He rummaged through the bag for one of the lemon drops, dropping a couple into his mouth.

“That’s shitty,” Steve said. “Sorry.”

“Why?” Billy asked, letting his eyes fall closed. “Can’t get black-out drunk in my room, can I?”

 “You know you can just crash at my place, right?”

Billy cracked an eye open. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Anytime. There’s seven extra bedrooms, and it’s quiet as hell by myself.”

“Well shit, Steve. With the liquor arsenal you have, I just might take you up on that.”

Chapter Text

“You’re going to break that,” Steve mumbled as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

Billy threw another imaginary air punch and bounced back and forth on his toes, ignoring the creaking sounds coming from the wooden table he was standing on. “No I’m not.”

“That shit’s like as old as this building, of course you’re going to break it.”

Right hook and then an uppercut. “Tommy said they just redid the cafeteria though.”

Steve rolled his eyes, tearing off a piece of his crust. “Yeah, the inside of it you moron. Not the ugly tables behind the gym.”

“They aren’t going to break just from me standing on them.”

“You’re jumping all over the place, they can’t handle that. It’s going to snap in half and then I’m going to laugh at you.”

Billy ignored him and threw another punch, dancing around the edge of the table to the other side. He leaned in for another hit when the table let out a loud groan, his foot going right through the middle of the wood. Billy let out a string of curses, trying to yank his foot out of the jagged hole he had just created.

Steve burst into laughter, the bite that was in his mouth falling onto the grass. “Serves you right. I told you it would break.”

“Fuck you,” Billy said, stumbling backwards as his foot finally coming free. “I should sue. This thing’s a safety hazard.”

“With what money dipshit? That hole is your own fault.”

Billy scowled, limping off of the table. “Shut up. You gonna finish that?”

“Sure, just steal my food,” Steve said as Billy grabbed an apple off Steve’s tray. “Wasn’t like I wanted it or anything.”

Billy ignored him, settling down onto the grass beside Steve. The sun was out in full force today, reminding Billy of California. He missed the way the sun could wash over everything and turn it a hazy golden-yellow. It wasn’t the same in Hawkins. The sun here just seemed to glare down at the little town, as if it hated being here too. Billy could relate to that.

“How are you not absolutely miserable,” Steve grumbled, making a face as he pulled at his shirt. “It’s hot as hell out here.”

“Says the guy wearing black skinny jeans.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I would be inside . Not sweating my ass off outside during lunch.”

Billy just shrugged, taking another bite out of Steve’s apple. Somehow he and Harrington had ended up sitting together at lunch, despite the put-out look that Tommy started shooting him in the hallways. Billy had felt especially restless today—it was probably the goddamn not-California sun—and had escaped to the overgrown grassy area behind the gym. Steve had followed and Billy hadn’t questioned it. Apparently Harrington was his damn lunch buddy now.

He’d have to put up with Tommy’s whiny bullshit later about how Billy had bailed on him, but right now all Billy wanted to think about was the sun on his face and the apple in his hand. His golden-brown Cali tan had faded a little over the winter, and he was determined to get it back. Along with the blond highlights that showed up in his hair about halfway through summer. Most people didn’t notice them, but he liked having them anyway. His mom’s hair had been that color.

Neil hated the highlights. Every time they appeared so would the biting remarks about Billy’s mom and his resemblance to her—a cardinal sin in the Hargrove household. It was like Neil was desperate to make sure that Billy didn’t turn out like her, in manner or appearance. He wished he could tell his dad not to worry; whatever good his mom had left in him had been stomped out years ago. He was just anger and cigarette smoke now.

“What’s the deal with you and the Chief?”

“What?”

Steve brought up a hand to shade his eyes, his gaze weighted and expecting. “You and Hopper. I always see him talking to you around town, and last time I was in your car I saw his jacket.”

“Oh, that shit.”

“Yeah. That shit. What’s it about?”

“Why, are you jealous or something? Want me all to yourself?”

“It’s called being curious you fucker. You gonna answer the question or what?”

Billy rolled his eyes, tossing the half-eaten apple between his hands. “Hell if I know what he wants. He just shows up and bothers me about shit. And I was out late once without a jacket so now he hides his damn jacket in my car. Aren’t you pals with him? Tell him to cut that shit out.”

Ever since that night Billy had spent the night at Hopper’s cabin, the Chief had started to see Billy as his personal life mission or something. He’d been offered a place to sleep 4 times since then, and he’d actually taken 2 of the offers. He still wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with him, getting comfortable with a police officer like he was, but desperate times called for desperate measures. So if conversations and hidden jackets were the price for a bed some nights, then he was going to damn take it. He’d deal with the consequences later.

Steve laughed, something in the sound telling Billy that there was knowledge Billy wasn’t privy to. “Are you kidding me? Hopper is the second most stubborn person I have ever met. And that’s with you in that list. The only person who gets him to stop is himself or Joyce. Better get used to seeing him around.”

Billy frowned. “The lady who works at the General Store? Jonathon’s mom?”

“Yep. She’s number one on my list.”

“Yeah? Where am I?”

A soft thud let Billy know that Steve had fallen backwards onto the grass. “You’re number three you asshole.”

Billy grinned. He hadn’t expected anything less. Being a stubborn asshole was his signature, his fucking nom de plume for the masses. He was glad he had gotten at least some recognition for the hard work. Personalities took effort, and this was a real damn good one.

Steve nudged Billy’s leg with his foot. “You doing anything this weekend?”

“The fuck would I be doing? There’s nothing to do in this hick town.”

“That’s just because all you do is drive around the back roads getting drunk.”

“Tell me one thing that’s more entertaining than hitting 90 with a bottle of whiskey.”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe going downtown?”

Billy turned his head to look at Steve. “Tell me what the hell you plan on doing downtown.”

“Dunno, just like walk around? Sneak into the movie theater? Get Mr. Diaz to give us more free candy?”

Billy laughed, shoving Steve’s foot away when it kicked him again. “That’s the most small-town-country-boy thing I’ve ever heard you say. But sure, why not. Got nothing else to do.”

“Cool. You’re driving.”

“Oh now you’re volunteering my driving skills?”

Steve snorted. “Screw that. I’m volunteering your car. Your driving skills are downright suicidal.”

And it wasn’t like Billy was going to refute that. He had the tickets to prove it. But he kept himself reasonably around the speed limit when he was chauffeuring other people around. I mean, just ask Max. Actually, on second thought, Max would probably over-exaggerate it all.  Don’t ask Max.

The sun didn’t let up as the hours wore on, and Billy soon found himself sweating even in his car, shifting against the sticky leather as he waited for Max. The air conditioning was useless, it was like blowing into a furnace. The heat in California had been bad, scorching even, but Hawking’s was oppressive. It settled into everything and simmered, leaving you heavy with the weight of it. Billy hated it. If he didn’t want his tan back he’d have turned into a virtual hermit.

And based on how Max was looking, she hated it as well. Stomping across the parking lot like it had personally insulted her, her face as red as her hair. Sweaty strands were plastered to her forehead, and she threw herself into the passenger seat with the attitude only pre-teen girls could hold.

“I’m going to start bringing a bucket of ice to school,” she said, pushing her hair back into a low ponytail. “And then I’m going to sit in the stupid thing.”

“You look like a lobster.”

“Screw you,” Max muttered, turning all the air vents towards her. “Not all of us were born with your stupid genetics.”

“Someone’s mad their face matches their hair,” Billy taunted, slapping her hand away and turning the vents back towards him. “And stop messing with my air.”

Max glared at him and pointed one towards herself. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Billy said, slamming his palm into the console as if it would make the air blow colder.

Max rolled her eyes and then reached towards the floor, catching sight of Hopper’s jacket from where it was poking out under the seat. “Would you look at that? I knew it. This is like the 15 th time it’s been in your car. You have to be stealing it.”

Billy glanced over at her and scowled, yanking the jacket out of her hands and tossing it into the backseat. “I said stop messing with my things.”

“Well then stop being so secretive about it.”

“I’m not being secretive .”

“Yes you are. It’s called being secretive when you don’t tell anyone anything.”

Billy pressed down on the gas a little harder. “I just don’t tell you my shit.”

“Oh yeah? Then who do you tell? You don’t have that many options.”

“Why the hell does it matter? Who cares if I talk to people? And it’s called minding your own business, how about you try it sometime?”

Max huffed, crossing her arms. “Hopper could probably arrest Neil for you.”

Billy let out a shocked laugh at the sudden change in topic, glancing over at Max to give her an incredulous look. “Are you serious right now?”

“Why not?” Max protested. “He’s the police chief. And then you wouldn’t ever have to look at your dad’s stupid face ever again.”

“I’m not running my mouth to a damn cop.”

“Why are you so stubborn about this? He could help, Billy. I know he could!” 

“I said I’m not saying shit.”

“Well then I will.”

Billy jerked the wheel to the right, pulling the car off to the side of the road with a jolt. He yanked it into park before spinning to face Max. 

“Let’s get something straight here. Neil is my business. My fucking responsibility. I’ve been in this game a hell of a lot longer than you have, and you can trust me when I say cops don’t do jack-shit. I’d also care to not end up in a group home Maxine . So if you want to help I suggest you stay the hell out of Neil’s way.”

Max stared at him for a few moments before her chin began to quiver, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away but more kept falling, and even Billy could tell it was a useless endeavor. And then she turned away from Billy, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door in one fluid motion. She was out of the car before Billy even fully registered what she was doing.

“Shit,” he said, pushing open his own door to go after her. “Max! The hell? Get back here!”

Max didn’t reply and just kept walking, stomping along the wilting grass like the heat didn’t bother her. And honest to God, Billy had no idea how long she would walk for. She was as stubborn as him sometimes, and testing those limits right now didn’t seem like too smart of an idea.

“Max!” he shouted, jogging after her. “Will you stop goddamn walking please?”

She spun back around at that, so quickly it almost startled him. She was fully crying at this point, her lashes clumped together with tears. “It’s not fair ,” she sobbed out. “You can’t just say that like it’s just you.”

“What the hell isn’t fair Maxine?!” Billy yelled, throwing his arms out. 

“This whole stupid thing!” She yelled back. “You’re not the only one who has to deal with everything!”

Billy gave a wild, incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me right now!? It’s always goddamn me! You walk around like your actions have no fucking consequences and all of a sudden it bothers you!? You sure as hell didn’t give a shit when you had a fucking cop drive us home! He beat the shit out of me for that one, but he didn’t even fucking touch you! He didn’t fucking touch you!”

Max’s shoulders started to shake with how hard she was crying and Billy felt like somebody had reached into his chest and pulled everything out. A second ago he had been so mad he couldn’t think straight and now he was just empty. 

 He thought that getting all that shit out on her would make him feel better, but he didn’t see how the way she was crying could make anyone feel better. Billy was real fucking lost right now. He had no idea where to go with this from here, and he didn’t know how to handle crying. Especially not when it was Max.

He raised his hands in a conciliatory manner, trying to get his breathing back down to a normal pace.  “Fuck, okay. Max. I have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re talking about. At all. So can you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“I can hear him,” she said, her voice wobbling as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. “At night, when he’s mad at you. And I always thought it was just him throwing things or something, but now I know it’s not, and it’s so l-loud. I hate it. I hate it so much, and it doesn’t s-stop.” The last words were spoken in a whisper, her voice rising and hitching at the end like it was a plea.

Billy froze, arms drifting down to hang uselessly by his side. He really didn’t know what to do. Max was always the oblivious one, the happy child who ran around town like she owned it and spoke like she didn’t worry about Neil and his moods. He had automatically assumed she didn’t notice any of it, that most of the tension went straight over her head, but apparently he was damn wrong. It reminded him of himself, years ago when he was the one hiding in bed when his mom fought with Neil. He understood how some noises felt like they would never stop, bursting through doors and walls and blankets to find you no matter where you hid.

“Well shit,” he said, wincing at the way Max was trying to hide her sobs. He hovered awkwardly for a second, glancing around at their surroundings before sighing. “Goddamn it.” He took a step forward, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her into a hug.

She stiffened and Billy wondered if he had done the wrong thing, but then she threw her arms around him, leaning into his chest like it was a lifeline. Billy let out a sigh of relief, holding her a little tighter. All he could think of when he looked at her was how much he had wanted a hug at that age, and he couldn’t come up with any other idea on how to get her to stop crying. He’d point-blank deny this situation later if asked, but right now he was going to make up a tiny bit for how awful of a brother he was.

He didn’t try to say anything, didn’t want to screw whatever this was up with his words. Nothing he ever wanted to say to her came out like he wanted to, and he hoped she could feel at least some of what he meant through his hug. There was a bird in one of the trees nearby, sending out little trills every couple minutes or so. Billy wondered how long a hug was supposed to last. He felt like that bird had been singing forever, but he didn’t want to pull away too soon and look like an ass. But he also didn’t want to hold on too long and make it awkward. He hadn’t hugged someone in years, and he was really out of practice.

“You give good hugs,” Max said, her voice muffled by Billy’s shirt. It was enough to break the anxiety he had and he laughed, tugging at the end of her hair. It was getting long, and sooner than later Susan was going to give him a wrinkled ten dollar bill to go get Max’s haircut. 

He always hated doing it, not because the actual trip was bad, but because Susan always found something to complain about. The length, the layers, the stupid face framing shit she told him to ask for, it didn’t matter what it was. Neil heard the complaints, assumed Billy had fucked it up, and the rest was history. Then both Billy and Max were at odds the rest of the week, both upset at each other for something that wasn’t even their fault.

“I think you should just take scissors to it,” Max said, as if she could read Billy’s mind. “And then we can split the money mom gives you and go get milkshakes.”

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? And then your mom would really have something to complain about.”

“She’d complain no matter how I got it cut.”

“Of course she would. I could hire a personal hairstylist and she’d still find something to get me in trouble for.”

There was a silence, and Billy could feel her back rising and falling with each breath. “How often do you do that?”

Billy frowned. “Do what?”

“Take the blame for something that’s my fault.”

“Your haircut isn’t your fault Max, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Stop changing the subject,” Max said, her fingers curling on his back. “Do you get in trouble for things I do?”

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

“It’s my stupid business when I have to hear it,” Max snapped, her voice tight.

Billy screwed his face up in irritation. He didn’t want to go down this route, but he also didn’t want her to start crying again. She was scarily persistent too, and he didn’t think he’d be able to easily talk himself out of this conversation. He guessed he had to go with the lesser of two evils here.

“Not that often, ok? It’s not like he’s whacking me every day over your grades or anything.”

“What the fuck ,” Max breathed, horrified. “He hits you because of my grades?”

“Watch your fucking mouth Max,” Billy said. “He’d definitely rip me a new one if he heard you talking like that.”

“I hate him. That’s not fair at all.”

Billy shrugged. “Not much you can do about it, carrots.”

Max ignored the hated nickname. “I’ll tell Mom to stop complaining.”

Billy tugged on her hair again. “You don’t have to do shit Max. You’re just going to get in trouble if you go poking around at things. I can handle Neil.”

“I know I don’t have to do shit,” Max said irritably, stomping lightly on Billy’s foot. “It’s called I don’t want Neil to get mad at you. It’s allowed, you asshole.”

“Fine, jeez. You can say shit to your mom or whatever. But if Neil even gets remotely unhappy about it you’re aborting the mission. And I mean complete shutdown of whatever you’re doing. Got it?”

“Sure.”

“I said, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Okay, good. Are we done here now?”

“You’re lucky you give good hugs,” Max said, detangling herself from the hug. “Because you have awful interpersonal skills.”

“Screw you,” Billy said, lightly shoving Max’s head towards the car. “Get your ass in the car, you already wasted 20 minutes of my afternoon.”

“I was saving your afternoon,” Max muttered, swatting his hand away. “Your car is thanking me for the break it just got from your driving.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Billy said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he started walking back to the car. “I drive that thing like it’s supposed to be driven.”

“You drive that thing like you want to get pulled over.”

“Shut up.”

Max laughed and the atmosphere in the car felt a little lighter than it had before. There was a little less weight to their silence, and Billy felt like he could breathe a little easier. He wasn’t entirely sure why, Max was annoying as hell and he really shouldn’t care all that much about how she felt, but he did. His reputation was going to go down the drain if he kept acting like this. Billy Hargrove, the rebel, delinquent, law-breaker, and now older brother apparently.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Billy rolled his eyes. Not even 5 minutes later and she already had more questions. “Long as it’s not about my dad.”

“Nope,” Max said triumphantly. “It’s about Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Are you two friends now or something? Because Dustin said Will told him that his friend’s sister said that her brother had heard from his girlfriend that she saw you and Steve hanging out. I thought you two hated each other.”

“First of all,” Billy said, lifting a hand off the steering wheel to point at Max. “The amount of people you just referenced tells me that your information is incredibly unreliable. Second of all, I don’t hate Harrington. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hate me either.”

“He punched you in the face. And then you knocked him unconscious.”

Billy shrugged. “He woke up.”

Max frowned. “And then you two were best friends all of a sudden?”

“We’re not best friends . And it was more like I thought he was an annoying prick but he wouldn’t leave me alone so I gave in. Also he brought me some real damn good alcohol.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve? Wouldn’t leave you alone?”

“Yeah. Also cause you couldn’t stop running your mouth to him, so he thought I needed help or some shit. So after I told him to fuck off with that crap it was all chill.”

“I didn’t run my mouth about anything,” Max protested. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Billy glanced over at her in disbelief. “You told him my dad was a hardass. And also that you were worried about me or some shit, what the fuck was that about?”

Max had the decency to look slightly guilty. “I didn’t think that was a secret or anything, lots of people have dads who are hardasses. And I didn’t say you needed help, I just said I was worried.”

“It’s practically the same thing, dipshit. Don’t fucking do it again.”

“Jeez, fine,” Max huffed. “But you two are fine though?”

“Completely.”

“You two are such guys ,” Max said, shaking her head. “It’s unbelievable.”

 “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“Of course you would.”

Chapter Text

The locker room was loud, it always was before a match, and Billy let himself fall into the heat and clamor of it all. Steve was sitting on the bench next to him, lacing up his shoes with intense concentration. Billy was already ready to go, his fingers tapping out a quick rhythm on his basketball shorts. There was no reason to be nervous, not really, but Billy couldn’t help but wonder if Hopper was going to show. He didn’t actually expect him to show up, there wasn’t any reason for him to waste an afternoon watching Billy play basketball. That didn’t stop him from thinking about it though. He couldn’t get the thought out of his damn mind.

“You here?”

Billy flinched backwards as Steve waved a hand in front of his face. “Shit—what the hell Harrington? Yes I’m here.”

Steve brushed his hair out of his eyes and raised an eyebrow. He had one foot up on the bench and he was leaning his arm against it, looking like he rolled out of a high school sports poster.  “Just checking, man. You looked like you were on a different planet.”

There was a loud yell and a trio of boys came barreling across the room, drowning out whatever Billy was going to say. One of the guys threw a basketball at another guy’s head, setting off another round of yelling, and Billy took the distraction as an opportunity to pull his shit together. He had to snap out of it before he took the court, he really didn’t feel like Neil getting on his case tonight about his athletic performance. There was nothing worse than the stony silence that Neil would greet him with if Billy screwed it up.

“No, I’m good,” Billy said, standing up and shoving Steve’s foot of the bench. “Did Coach say who was starting yet?”

“You say that like coach doesn’t have you start every single game.”

“I just want to know who I’m gonna be stuck with for the first quarter,” Billy said, shooting Steve a grin. “Gotta look at the odds. Cause if you’re starting too that means I have to do triple the work.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

Billy reached up in the air to catch a basketball that two of the freshman were tossing back and forth across the locker room, sending it back at the bigger of the two with enough force to send him stumbling back. The kid froze and stared at Billy like he was going to bite his head off before scampering around the lockers as fast as he could. Billy cupped a hand around his mouth, shouting loud enough for the kid to hear. “Need to work on those reflexes, Kaminski!”

“Stop bullying the benchwarmers,” Steve said, leaning back against the lockers. “They’re scared of you already.”

“It’s called preparing them for the real world,” Billy said. “Have you seen my shoes?”

“No it’s called putting terror into the hearts of children. And they’re in my bag.”

Billy frowned, reaching under the bench to pull out Steve’s gym bag. “Why the hell are they in your bag?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Because we played that pickup game at my place yesterday? And you left them at my house? Because you’re an idiot?”

“Someone’s mad they lost.”

“Fuck you Hargrove, it was a close game.”

Billy leaned sideways to dodge the foot that Steve swung at him, shoving his feet into his dingy basketball shoes. He glanced at the watch in Steve’s bag, doing the mental gymnastics to figure out how much time he had left before it was time to head out on the court. They were playing a tough team tonight, some private school from the city. It would feel good to beat them, and even better to do it when his dad was watching.

“Hargrove!”

Billy looked up to see one of the seniors pushing his way through the locker room towards Billy, a giant grin on his face. He was tall and sweaty, his dark hair already plastered to his forehead like he had been playing for half the game. He clapped Billy solidly on the shoulder, giving him a good-natured shake. “Guess what you little fucker?”

“You already need a shower, Wilson,” Billy said, punching the other boy in the shoulder. “Why are you screaming in my ear?”

“Coach is letting the captains decide the starting lineup.”

“Fucking finally,” Billy said, turning towards Steve with a sharp grin. “We’re going in Stevie Boy!”

Wilson placed an arm on Billy’s shoulder and leaned in, addressing both Billy and Steve with a seriousness that Billy only saw when he talked basketball. “I already tagged in Barroso, and with Harrington there that makes four. I was thinking either James or Johnson, what do you think?”

Steve frowned. “Johnson’s too slow for the first quarter, but James knows how to pass the ball.”

“Good point,” Wilson said, slapping Billy’s shoulder again. “I’ll go update the guy, you two get the rest of the gang in a group.”

Billy watched Wilson disappear around a corner before looking back at Steve with a grin. “Dude, we’re going to rock their shit.”

“We better,” Steve said, tossing his shirt into his locker before slamming it closed. “We got ourselves an audience.”

“Your group of children does not count as an audience,” Billy said, backing away towards the center of the room.

Steve rolled his eyes and snapped his arm out to grab a sophomore that was running by. He ignored the kid’s surprised yelp and shoved him back towards where the players were starting to congregate. “Stop running around Thomas, or I’ll kick your ass.” He turned his attention back towards Billy. “I’m not talking about them.”

“You’re such a mom, you know that right?” Billy said, watching the kid Steve had yelled at stand meekly by one of the lockers. He had his shoulders bunched up around his neck and he kept stealing fearful looks over at Steve. “That kid is going to behave for weeks.”

“Nah, he just knows that if he didn’t listen I’d send you after him.”

Billy laughed. “Am I your personal bodyguard now Harrington? But seriously, who are you considering an audience? The turnout isn’t going to be that much higher just because it’s a city school.”

“No, I know. I was talking about Hopper.”

Billy’s eyebrows shot up. Hopper was actually coming? He had been serious? “The Chief’s actually coming?”

Steve shot him an odd look, grabbing a basketball from one of the benches and shoving it in Billy’s arms as he walked by. “Of course he is, he told you he’d be here.”

Billy stared after Steve dumbly, the basketball sitting uselessly in his arms. Well shit. Hopper had been serious? He had actually come out to watch Billy play basketball? Maybe he was here to watch Steve. He had known Steve longer than Billy anyway, it would make more sense.

“Billy, get over here.”

Billy gave a nod of acknowledgment to the call and jogged over to the huddle of people, pushing any thought of Hopper out of his mind. He had a game to play, he couldn’t be worried about whether the police chief was here to see him or Steve. It didn’t matter anyway. He was going to go out there, kick some ass, and win the goddamn game.

The huddle was waiting expectantly for him, and he folded into the circle with ease. Wilson was in the middle of the circle, hands waving emphatically as he talked to James. There was plenty of good-natured jostling, shoulders bumping into shoulders as retaliation for well-placed elbows. It was rough and loud, and Billy could feel the excited undercurrent humming through each of the boys. Somebody grabbed the ball from his hand and then Wilson was up and running, hand in the air like he was the president.

“Gentleman.” His hands moved down to rest behind his back, his wrinkled jersey at odds with the uptight position he was holding. “They’re ready for us out there, and soon we’ll be staring them down. Today we face a behemoth of a team. They think they’re better than us. Stronger than us. They think that we’re weak. So what are we going to do when we see them on that court tonight?” Wilson was shouting by the last words, pacing back and forth like a drill sergeant. “Are we going to let them walk all over us!?”

Billy yelled back his disapproval with the rest of his teammates, his words tumbled by stomping feet until they were incoherent. He could see Steve out of the corner of his eye, the basketball that had fallen out of Billy’s hands earlier now on the ground under Steve’s foot. Someone nearby leaned into Billy, pushing him left before disappearing and before Billy knew it he was swaying with the rest of them, a whirlpool around the triumphant Wilson.

“No! We’re going to go out there and show those goddamn city boys how to really play basketball! So what do you say!? Are you ready to win!?”

The shouting intensified and Wilson caught Billy’s eye, nodding and taking a step back as Billy stepped forward. The team chant could use some work, Billy would be the first to admit that, but Coach was insistent on its usage, so they still shouted it before each game. One of the seniors had elected Billy to lead it at the beginning of the year, convinced that most of the team was too scared of Billy to not participate. He wasn’t wrong, and Billy made sure to let his stare linger on certain players a little longer before leading them into the chant. “Alright boys, let’s hear it. Tigers on three! Tigers on three!”

“ONE, TWO, THREE, TIGERS!”

There was a loud whoop from one of the boys and then Billy let himself get swept up in the stampede towards the locker room doors, getting pushed through the rough-and-tumble jumping of his teammates. He felt a hand on his arm and then Steve was next to him, breathless and bright-eyed. “We should play private schools more often.”

“I don’t think I could do this every week,” Billy said, stumbling forward as someone ran into him from the back. “They’ve gone feral.”

Steve laughed at that, knocking into Billy’s shoulder with his own. “You should feel right at home then. Ready to win?”

The cheering suddenly doubled and Billy was running onto the court, his breathing in rhythm with the pounding of his feet on the court. Billy distantly recalled that Steve had asked him a question but he was too busy scanning the bleachers, trying to find familiar faces in the screaming crowd. He spotted Susan first, and then Neil, the both of them standing at the bottom row of the bleachers. Susan looked flustered and out-of-place, at odds with the stony posture Neil had. Max was somewhere in the student section he would bet, hanging with her nerd friends.

He tore his gaze away from his dad and continued to search the crowd, his posture relaxing when he saw Chief Hopper by the player’s bench. He hadn’t realized how much weight he had put into Hopper’s appearance until the anticipation was lifted from his shoulders. He turned sharply, suddenly angry with himself. He needed to focus, he couldn’t afford to sit here and feel good about the Chief’s attendance. He had a game to win.

And focus he did, throwing every thought out of his mind until all he could see was the court and the players. He played like a man on a mission, making his way up and down the court like his teammates were the only ones on the floor with him. He and Steve played off each other like they could read each other’s minds, sending their coach into a frenzy with each point they scored. Billy was on fire, and the other team was fuel.

74-41 was the final score, and the buzzer sent the team flying onto the court in celebration. He was getting slapped on the back in every direction, words flying at him in every direction. Someone had started a mob, and a group of his teammates were running around the courts yelling the school chant at the top of their lungs. And then his coach was in front of him, grabbing Billy by the shoulders and shaking him in the way that only coaches could to show their approval. He accepted the praise in stride, slapping people’s backs in return and riding on the high of the victory.

He could see his dad waiting on the sidelines, his arm around Susan in a way that told Billy he was in a good mood. Billy breathed a little easier and extracted himself from the grips of his teammates, heading towards his dad with a determined stride. He had done well today, made his dad look at him with something other than disappointment and anger. It felt good.

“Billy!”

Billy skidded to a stop as Hopper stepped in front of him, a big smile on the Chief’s face. Billy stared at the Chief for a few seconds, his brain trying to catch up to what was happening. Somebody behind him knocked into his shoulder and then Billy unfroze, a smile stretching across his face big enough to rival Hopper’s.

“Hopper! You made it!”

“Sure as hell I made it,” Hopper said, giving Billy’s shoulder a light clap. “You sure know how to work a ball kid. That was some good playing down there.”

Billy shrugged, trying his best to keep his smile from looking even more ridiculous. “What can I say; I have to show you small-towners how to really play basketball.”

“Yeah, well, speaking of small-towners, I think I can safely assume that you and Steve have put your past disagreements behind you based on those passes I saw back there.”

Billy glanced over his shoulder to look at Steve, finding Harrington over by the net giving some of his school friends an exaggerated recap of one of their more impressive plays. He laughed and turned back towards Hopper. “We manage to get along.”

Hopper followed Billy’s earlier gaze and let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head at the display of theatrics. “That kid. Between you, him, and El I think I’m already going gray. You and the team going out to celebrate?”

Billy blinked at Hopper, his brain stuttering to the halt on the suggestion that the Chief had just made. Him, Steve and El? As a collective unit? As in Hopper saw Billy on the same level that he saw his daughter? He cleared his throat awkwardly; trying to pull his focus back onto the question he had just been asked. “I-uh, no. No, we usually only go celebrate for districts or regionals or whatever.”

Hopper reached up to scratch his jaw. “Huh. That’s some bullshit if you ask me. That was a hell of a game. Your folks here?”

Billy’s heart stuttered to a stop. Shit. He was well and truly fucked. He had just ignored his dad in favor of Hopper right in front of his dad’s face. Right in front of his goddamn face. He let his eyes flick over Hopper’s shoulder to look at his Dad, a sick feeling pooling in his stomach when he saw the stormy look in Neil’s eyes.

“Billy?”

He snapped his eyes back to Hopper, grasping for words that would fit this situation. There weren’t any, and pretending that he would be able to talk his way out of this was naïve, but he could at least try. “My dad’s waiting. He likes to talk after my games. I should, um, I should probably go over there.” His voice sounded thin even to his own ears, and he tried to force a little more strength into his expression.

Hopper frowned, looking over his shoulder at Neil. There was a tense pause, and Billy thought Hopper would call him out on his bullshit acting. But he just nodded, turning around and slinging an arm around Billy’s shoulder before he had time to protest. “We don’t want to do that, do we? Let’s go let him congratulate you.”

Billy’s feet felt like wooden blocks as Hopper marched him over to his father, and he couldn’t figure out what to look at. Directly at his dad felt like a suicide mission, but anywhere else felt like disrespect, which was also a suicide mission. Then again, his dad was probably going to kill him later so what did it even matter.

“Hargrove!” Billy looked up at the name as Hopper reached out and shook his dad’s hand firmly, probably a little more firmly than polite. “Your son is something else on that court, you must be really proud of him.”

“Thank you,” Neil said, reaching out to give Billy a solid clap on the shoulder, much harder than Hopper’s had been. “We’re glad all the practice has paid off.”

Billy tensed at the contact and then tried to relax his posture. He was standing too stiff, looking too awkward. Neil was pissed, but he was going to be more pissed if Billy looked like he knew his dad was pissed. He forced a smile, addressing Hopper with the same attitude the Chief was used to. “It’s mostly talent Hop, but my dad likes to pretend he helped.”

Hopper’s laugh was more genuine than Neil’s and Billy tried to ignore how his stomach twisted at the sound of it. Susan had disappeared, probably sensing the brewing storm, and Billy could assume that she was off bothering Max. She never seemed to get the hint that Max didn’t need a full-time babysitter. But then again, maybe she didn’t really care. It seemed like Billy’s luck, to end up with three parents who all didn’t give a shit about him.

“—urprised you’re not taking him out to celebrate.”

“You spoil them on the easy things, they lose motivation for the hard things.”

Billy pulled his focus back to the conversation at hand, trying to pick up context clues to show him what he had missed. Hopper looked slightly irritated, standing with a hand on his belt like he usually did when he found Billy driving too fast or drinking too hard. It was weird to see it aimed at someone else, let alone his dad. Neil was postured like he always was, which meant that it was Neil’s own delightful personality that had turned the conversation south.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it, though I say let the kids have fun while they still can.” Hopper glanced over at Billy as he spoke, letting a hand settle on Billy’s shoulder.

Billy appreciated the gesture, he really did, and he knew that Hopper was trying to be reassuring. But the way Neil was looking at Hopper’s hand was telling Billy that Neil saw it more as a threat than a kind reassurance. As far as Neil was concerned, Billy was his responsibility, and subsequently the only person who was able to give opinions on how Billy was raised. And he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate the way Billy had talked to Hopper first, as if Billy had deferred all his respect towards the Chief instead of his dad.

Neil’s smile grew tight. “Yes, well. Some kids need a tight leash.”

The hand on Billy’s shoulder gave a small squeeze. “I’m sure some do. You’re mighty lucky to have a son like Billy.”

“Absolutely. He’s something else.”

Any sweat that was still on Billy had dried by now, and he was suddenly cold. He wasn’t sure if it was the air conditioning or if someone had left a door open. He needed to get out of here, minimize whatever damage he’s already caused. He was about to say something, pull himself out of the situation when a hand landed on his other shoulder.

Steve was grinning and flushed, looking like the game ended a couple minutes ago instead of almost half an hour. “I was wondering where you went. Coach wants to talk to you in the locker room. Well both of us actually, so it’s probably about how fucking awesome we were.” Hopper cleared his throat and Steve winced apologetically. “Sorry Hop. I mean freaking awesome. C’mon let’s go, I’ve been trying to find you for ages.”

Billy avoided looking at his dad, giving Hopper a smile as he backed away with Steve. “I’ll meet you at the house, Dad. See you later, Chief.” He spun around as soon as Hopper gave him a wave, letting the forced smile fall off his face like a weight. “Fucking hell man, you couldn’t have come a little earlier?”

Steve grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry. Your dad kept talking and I didn’t want to interrupt him. He’s scary as hell, man. I thought he and Hopper were going to bite each other’s head off.”

“Yeah he’s pissed all right,” Billy muttered, grabbing a towel from the bench as they walked into the locker room. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

Steve dodged the now-used towel that Billy tossed at him. “What does that mean? You didn’t even do anything.”

Billy grabbed the back of his jersey, pulling it off with a fluid motion. He needed to do laundry later, this was his last clean basketball uniform. “That’s not exactly a requirement when it comes to my dad. I breathe the wrong way and the man has an aneurysm.”

“You ever consider not breathing?”

“Fuck off,” Billy said, shrugging on a t-shirt with a small smile. “That’d piss him off too.”

“Well that shit blows, man.”

“Tell me about it.” Billy shoved his uniform into his backpack and looked up at Steve. “Coach didn’t actually want to see us right?”

“Nah, he just wanted me to tell you that you played good. You doing anything tonight? We could crash at my place and order pizza or something.”

Billy swung his backpack over his shoulder and started towards the door. “I can’t, I gotta drive Max home. Besides, my dad’s been itching to scream at me all night. I wouldn’t want to deprive him of the opportunity.”

Steve frowned, grabbing his stuff from the floor and shoving it in his bag without regard for order. “You know, every time I meet your dad he acts more like a dick.”

“It’s his specialty.”

“Are you under house arrest this weekend?”

Billy remembered the look on his dad’s face and winced, flicking off the lights as he and Steve exited the locker room. “The way he was looking at Hopper? Hell yeah. But he doesn’t know we don’t have basketball practice after school Wednesday.”

“My place then?”

“Where the fuck else would we go, pretty boy?”

Steve flicked the back of Billy’s head, dodging the retaliating swipe Billy sent in his direction. “It’s called a polite question dipshit. Just because you don’t have any manners, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”

Billy skirted around a group of cheerleaders, winking at one of the curly-haired ones. She giggled and Billy would have flirted a little further if Steve didn’t come up behind him, shoving him towards the bleachers. He tried to turn back around but Steve’s hand blocked his vision, giving his head a gentle push. “Stop flirting with the cheerleaders Billy.”

“Buzzkill,” Billy muttered, shoving his hands in his jeans. “She was hot.”

“I don’t think Max would appreciate having to wait half an hour because you wanted to suck face with Sally Holders.”

Billy looked at Steve and grinned. “You know her?”

“Shove it up your ass,” Steve said.

The gym was slowly clearing, the audience trickling out its double doors in small groups. Most of the team was gone, and it was mostly parents and younger siblings, the former in no hurry to leave and the latter bored out of their minds. Max would fit into the second category, except she had her little dork squad to keep her entertained. They were probably laughing it up in the back of the bleachers.

“You have to drive any of the dorks home?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck, searching the stands. “Uh, yeah. I’m driving Dustin home. Where are they anyway?”

“Hell if I know,” Billy said, spinning around to look at the other side of the bleachers. “You’re the babysitter.”

Steve sighed. “They’re probably in one of the science rooms or something. C’mon, we should probably get going.”

Billy trudged along after Steve, kicking a stray plastic cup in front of him. Even at his own damn game he had to hunt down his little sister. Forget Steve, he was the goddamn babysitter around here. At least Mrs. Henderson paid Steve in baked goods, Billy was working for nothing. Max had better give him some damn credit when she made something of herself. All those rides everywhere had to be worth something in the grand scheme of things.

Chapter Text

Billy lapsed into silence as he followed Steve through the Hawkins High hallways, the beige walls seeming to seep into his skin and set the mood for the night. Now that it was quiet he had time to think, and all that he could think about was how much he didn’t want to go home tonight. Half of him wanted to stop Steve in the middle of the hallway and say yes, he did want to go to Steve’s house tonight. He wanted to go anywhere but his own house. Anywhere without his dad.

“Told you,” Steve said as he pulled open the door of a 9 th grade biology classroom. “They just can’t keep themselves away.”

The goon squad looked up from one of the lab tables; all five of them huddled around a dingy notebook with near illegible handwriting. Based on the pencil clutched in Lucas’s hand, it was his awful handwriting. “We’re almost done,” Dustin promised, a pleading look across his face. “We almost have the calculations down.”

“Tough luck,” Billy drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “Max, pack your shit up we’re leaving.”

“5 more minutes,” Max called, grabbing the pencil from Lucas to erase something on the page.

“Max,” Billy said a little louder, his tone turning harsh. “I said right goddamn now. We need to get home.”

Max looked up at that, startled by the sudden change in Billy’s demeanor. She caught on to his meaning fast and abandoned the pencil, grabbing her jacket from one of the chairs. “Sorry guys, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow; we can try and finish it then.”

There was a chorus of protests but Max ignored them, walking over to Billy with a solemn look on her face. Behind her Dustin gave an exaggerated sigh, trudging towards Steve like someone had told him his dog had died. Steve just rolled his eyes and grabbed Dustin’s jacket from him, turning it around for Dustin to put his arms through.

“See you later,” Billy said, clapping Steve on the shoulder as he walked away. Max pulled on her jacket and jogged to keep up, hovering by Billy’s elbow like she was trying to be as annoying as possible. He wouldn’t put it past her.

“How about some personal space,” Billy muttered, elbowing her in the ribs.

“Asshole,” Max said, elbowing Billy right back. “Is your dad in a bad mood?”

“You could say that,” Billy said, swinging his backpack around to his chest to search for his keys. “I suggest staying out of his way for the rest of the night.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Billy parroted back, shoving open the school doors with his shoulder as he pulled his keys out.

“Don’t be a jerk,” Max huffed. “If he’s mad at you why don’t you just spend the night at Steve’s or something?”

Billy ignored the question as they crossed the parking lot. He’d thought about it before, almost every time he was about to get his ass handed to him. Steve, Hopper, really anyplace that would mean postponing the pain for a night. But his dad didn’t cool off, he heated up. Making him wait a day to get his hands on Billy was like poking the bear. And Billy didn’t feel like getting his head bit off.

“You didn’t answer me.” Max complained, closing the car door with more force than she should have. Billy normally would have yelled at her for it, but it was kind of hard to focus on things like that at the moment.

“That’s because it was a stupid question.”

“No it’s not, you’ve spent the night at other people’s houses before.”

 “Yeah, afterwards . Avoiding him would just piss him off more. Don’t worry about it, just hang out in your room and do your weird nerd shit.”

“Why’s he mad at you?”

“None of your goddamn fucking business, that’s why.”

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Max said, kicking her feet against the bottom of the dashboard.

“Someone’s going to shut the hell up,” Billy said, reaching over to slap her leg. “Stop kicking my fucking car.”

Max made a face but stilled her feet. “Can you drive me to Will’s house tomorrow?”

“I’m going to be on house arrest moron.”

Max let her head fall back against the headrest in the overdramatic way she liked to do most things. Billy almost felt bad for not being able to drive her, he knew how much she liked hanging out with the dork squad, but it honestly wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t meant to set his dad off, and it wasn’t like he had really done anything wrong anyway.

His dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway, which meant that Susan was at her book club. A convenient excuse to get out of the storm that was the Hargrove household, and Billy felt a sick sort of envy that Susan felt safe enough to leave her daughter home alone when Neil went off.

“Can’t we just wait 5 more minutes?” Max asked as Billy reached for the car door. “We don’t have to go in just yet.”

Billy paused, his fingertips falling from the door handle. “He’s not even going to notice you Max, just go to your room and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Billy let out a bitter half-laugh. “And I do? Fucking hell Maxine, you act like this is optional.”

Max turned her head towards the window so Billy couldn’t see her face, her crossed arms doing more talking than the words she had just spoken. She wasn’t going to be the one to talk first, Billy knew how she worked, which meant it was up to him to fix whatever this was. Goddamn little bitch.

“Look,” he started. “I have headphones in my room. Second drawer on the right. You can use them as long as you don’t break them.”

“That is such bullshit,” Max said, shoving open her door.

Billy grabbed his keys and exited the car after her, just grateful she hadn’t given him any more grief on the matter. This night would be hard enough without having to play emotional support for Max. Where was the goddamn dog when you needed it?

“Hey,” he said, grabbing Max by the shoulder and pulling her to the side. “Let me go in first.”

“Then he’s just going to get more mad when your face is the first thing he sees.”

“He’s already mad,” Billy said, shoving his key into the lock. “So if he does something stupid I don’t want it to be your face caught in the crossfire. Susan would kill me.”

Max didn’t say anything to that, and Billy wondered if he should have verbalized that specific fear. He hoped Neil would never hit Max, but he couldn’t confidently say it would never happen. Neil was unpredictable, and Billy had seen him grab Susan’s arm the way he grabbed Billy’s. He might regret letting Max get a glimpse of those thoughts, after all it might only generate a new wave of fear, but he needed her to know that they couldn’t afford to be stupid.

He shoved open the door with a false sense of bravado, wanting to posture a confidence that he didn’t feel. Max started to follow him to the living room, but changed her direction when Billy shot her a warning glare. He waited until her door was closed before setting his sights on the living room. It was quiet, and Billy felt like he could hear his heartbeat.

He slowly made his way into the house, dropping his bag by the kitchen table. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to be faster than usual, a rapid echoing noise that burrowed into his skull. Maybe that was what insanity felt like.

“I was wondering when you would decide to come home.”

Billy worked his jaw and pivoted on his heel to face his dad. Neil was in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“I had to find Max.”

“And that took half an hour?”

“Yeah, it did.”

“And would you care to share why it took that long?”

“Well there’s a hell of a lot of classrooms in the school.”

Neil’s eyes flashed. “You have been disrespectful this entire night, and I have to say I’m quite sick of the attitude. If you can’t explain your tardiness then maybe you can explain the explicit show of defiance you decided to pull out there with the Chief.”

“He was congratulating me, it’s not my fault he was faster than you.”

“That’s a strike,” Neil said lowly. “Try again. Because I can’t see a reason you should show him more respect than your own damn father.”

Neil was instigating, pushing at Billy so he would have an excuse to hit a little harder. It was something Billy was familiar with, and he wished he could say it didn’t work. But the condescending way he phrased his questions made Billy see red.

“Fuck you.”

Neil pushed himself upright, taking a dangerous couple of steps towards Billy. “Excuse me?”

Billy elected to stay silent, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets. He was bordering on the edge of losing it, and it was taking all of his willpower to keep his mouth shut. Because anything that came out of his mouth in the next 10 minutes would be enough to sign his own death warrant.

Neil gripped Billy’s chin tightly and angled it so that Billy was looking directly at Neil. It was a warning, meant to grab Billy’s attention. “I suggest you find an answer to the question I just asked you.”

Billy plowed right through the warning without even slowing down. “That wasn’t even a fucking question.”

Neil had Billy by the shirt collar in an instant, throwing him to the ground with enough force to remind Billy of his dad’s days in the marines. He hit the wood floor hard, his outstretched hands doing little to break the fall. He could see underneath the couch from his position, and the shirt he had been looking for since the beginning of the year was underneath it, twisted around one of the legs.

A kick to Billy’s ribs sent him sprawling, a harsh gasp escaping his lips as he landed on his shoulder wrong. He barely had time to curl in on himself before Neil was launching a volley of attacks, quick striking shots that landed without aim or reason.  Billy held himself rigid, tightly wound with the anticipation of where the next hit would land. Neil’s foot glanced off his head and he saw stars.

And then suddenly the kicks were gone, Neil’s heavy breathing the only sign that he was still there. Billy slowly uncurled, turning his head to get a better look at his dad. He didn’t know why he had stopped, why he had decided to let Billy off easy, but he knew it wasn’t a good sign. Neil didn’t quit until Billy was down and out for the count.

“Get up.”

Billy was quick to obey the order, shakily pushing himself to his feet, one arm wrapped around his ribs like a lifeline. Neil still looked angry, the veins on his neck standing out like tightropes Billy hadn’t learned how to balance on yet. Billy took another halting half-step backwards, still not enough to get him out of Neil’s striking range.

“Don’t you walk away from me, boy.”

And Billy wasn’t walking away, he wasn’t that stupid. It was just a stupid goddamn step backwards. But now Neil was looking at him like he wanted to beat the ugliness out of Billy, pound it out of his flesh like it was something that could be removed. And hell, Billy had never been one to let people waste opportunities.

“And I said fuck you.”

The backhand was blinding, a thunder-crack across Billy’s cheekbone that made his vision white out. His face was still burning when Neil grabbed him by the wrist and spun him around, slamming him face-down over the table with his arm wrenched up his back. Billy gritted his teeth against the pressure, a dull ache spreading out from his shoulder.

Neil’s voice was low and soft. “You will watch your language when you are speaking to me, is that understood?”

There was a pause after Neil asked the question and Billy licked his lips, his breathing ragged as the silence grew. He didn’t want to give in to his dad, didn’t want to admit defeat this early on in the game. The grip on his wrist tightened and then his arm was wrenched up, his shoulder making an odd popping sound as it was pulled from its socket. A scream ripped its way out of Billy’s throat, a low, guttural sound that he couldn’t recognize as his own voice.

“I SAID IS THAT GODDAMN UNDERSTOOD!?” Neil yelled, slamming his hand down on the table next to Billy’s face.

Billy gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to push back the wave of pain that threatened to drag him under. Every movement of his shoulder felt like agony, and he couldn’t think of anything else besides the ache of it. He tried to draw in a breath to answer Neil’s question but a hand was in his hair, yanking his head up and then slamming it into the table.

Billy didn’t scream that time. He couldn’t scream, all the air had been driven out of his lungs. His nose exploded with pain, radiating up and to his forehead. It was dislocated at best, he could tell that without feeling the stream of blood trailing down over his mouth and chin, the taste of copper becoming all too familiar. Neil’s hand was still wound tightly through his hair, and his face was still being pressed into the table, a smeared puddle of red spreading out from underneath it. Neil was saying something but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“Stop it!” Billy’s heart gave a small stutter at the shout. That was Max’s voice. “Get off of him, you’re hurting him!” She sounded like she was about to cry, her voice wavering at the end of each yell.

He couldn’t turn his head to look at her, Neil was still holding him down, and he couldn’t tell her to get out of here. It felt like someone had reached into Billy’s fears and thrown them into real life, without regard to anyone’s safety. Because Neil was dangerous when he was mad, volatile and unpredictable.

“Max, honey, go back to your room. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Let go of him!”

Billy was yanked upright off the table and shoved to the side. He stumbled, grabbing onto the table’s edge for support. He took in the scene in front of him, his heart sinking at the look on his dad’s face. Max was staring Neil down, fists clenched and eyes blazing, looking like she was going to take on the world. And Billy didn’t doubt that she could, except it wasn’t the world she was taking on, it was Neil. And he was something else entirely.

“Maxine. I will not ask you again. Go to your room.”

“Not until you promise to leave him alone.”

“Max, get the fuck out of here,” Billy said, pressing the back of his hand against his nose to try and stop the bleeding. “Leave. Now .” He tried to convey as much fear as he could into his words, needing her to understand that she was just going to make everything worse.

“I said I’m not leaving.”

“Maxine,” Neil warned, walking over towards her. “I’m going to tell you one more time. Go back to your room.”

“No.”

Billy flinched at the sound Neil’s hand made against Max’s cheek. It never sounded that loud when it was his own face, but all of a sudden it sounded like the earth had split open. Her pale skin began to redden, a handprint blooming into focus. It looked wrong.

Billy was on the move in an instant, pushing himself off the table to get to her. He grabbed her by the shoulder, leaving smears of red on her shirt as he spun her behind him and out of sight. It felt like placing himself in front of a firing squad, and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to run far away from here. 

But while he was a son of a bitch who deserved every strike across the face, she had been dragged into this clusterfuck of a mess without her consent. And if Billy was going to do one right thing in his life, it was going to be making sure his dad kept his sights set squarely on Billy. A goddamn fucking bullseye on his forehead. 

“She’s just a kid. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

Neil didn’t hesitate to slap Billy across the face too, his hand as unforgiving as his eyes. “Move William.”

The use of his full first name sent a sick fear pooling in his gut. “Dad, please. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

The words were oddly shaped in his mouth, tumbling out with a dragging reluctance. He’d never begged his dad for anything, especially not in moments like these, and maybe he was hoping they meant something. That when it really mattered his dad would take Billy’s side for once. 

Billy felt a little bit of him break as his dad didn’t even pause, didn’t even falter at the sound of Billy’s pleas. 

The next slap was harder, whipping his face to the side. Max’s hands curled into the back of his shirt, and Billy could feel her hands shaking. “I said move . Or I will teach you a lesson you will never forget.”

“Dad—”

Neil’s hands went for his belt buckle, undoing it and ripping it out of its loops with a frightening speed. Billy’s eyes widened and he took a couple steps back, almost tripping over Max. There was a look on Neil’s face that he had never seen before, and Billy was struck with the thought that he might not make it out of the living room alive.

“You goddamn little bastard.” Neil said, raising his arm.

Billy threw an arm up in front of his face, catching the brunt of Neil’s belt as it came whipping down on top of him. The tail end wrapped around his forearm and caught him on the cheek, a sharp sting that sent a shock of pain through the side of his face. He risked a look back up at Neil and caught the belt full across his face with a cry, a line of fire engulfing the previous sting.

Neil was already winding up for the next hit and Billy dropped to the ground on gut instinct, pulling Max down along with him. He twisted as soon as they were down, bracing his hands on either side of Max to form a protective shield. His shoulder screamed in protest, sending stabbing spikes of pain shooting down his arm, yet he didn’t dare move, painfully aware that he was the only thing standing between Neil and Max. 

The next hit landed squarely on his back, and he flinched forward with the blow. Max let out a soft, hiccupping noise and slid closer until her back was pressed against his chest. A rough hand grabbed the bottom of his shirt, ripping it up and then over his head, leaving it tangled around Billy’s shoulders. The assault continued without pause, the belt whistling down to bite into his back at every opportunity. It felt like Neil was going to flay the skin off of his back.

A particularly harsh blow had a pained hiss creeping out from behind his teeth and Max began to cry, one hand around her knees the other stretched out and wrapped around Billy’s wrist. His nose was still bleeding and he watched with a pained curiosity as another drop of blood rolled off his lip and landed on Max’s jeans. It soaked into the already present, rapidly-growing splotch, with an eerie silence, staining the denim a wine-colored shade of red.

He let out a grunt as the end of the belt wrapped around his ribs, clenching his jaw with the effort of staying still. Max’s grip on his wrist was almost bruising, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her to let go. In a way her hand was grounding, a constant pressure that reminded him his body still existed outside the pain.

There was a loud splintering, and Billy flinched for what felt like the thousandth time that day, hunching himself over Max a little further. It sounded like someone had kicked their front door in.

“GET ON YOUR GODDAMN KNEES HARGROVE.”

That was Hopper’s voice. Max must have called the cops, but Billy didn’t understand what he was supposed to do, he was already on his knees. And he couldn’t go down any further, or else he’d crush Max. His mind blanked out and he started to panic, his breathing picking up as he tried to figure out what he needed to be doing. Staying on a cop’s good side was one of the keys to survival, but Billy honest to God couldn’t figure a way around it in this situation.

And then the belt landed with more force than it had ever landed before, driving the wind out of Billy’s lungs. He tried to pull in a gasping breath, Max’s sobs sounding muffled in his ears. Neil was yelling something about his rights as a citizen in a harsh, barking tone that Billy was all too familiar with, laying strikes on Billy’s back in time with his words. 

“You goddamn son of a bitch,” Hopper growled, and then there was a loud thud, Neil letting out a low groan of pain as Hopper’s voice got noticeably closer. “You make me sick. You get up and I kick your fucking teeth in, got it?” Holy shit, he was pretty sure Hopper had just tackled Neil. If Billy wasn’t struggling to breathe he would have laughed. Footsteps came in and out of the room and then Billy couldn’t hear his dad’s breathing anymore.

“Hopper,” Max half-sobbed out from underneath him, her hand falling off of Billy’s wrist. Hopper was at Billy’s side before Billy could even blink, his hand hovering over Billy’s shoulder, the other resting assuredly on Max’s arm. 

“Billy,” Hopper said, ducking his head a little lower to look directly at Billy’s face. “Your dad’s down and out, he’s not going to be able to touch you. I need to get you and Max out of the house, can you look at me?”

Billy drew in a shuddering breath, trying to make sense of Hopper’s words. Everything still felt muffled and slow, and he didn’t think he could get himself to speak if he wanted to. He couldn’t even figure out how to turn his head. 

“Shit,” Hopper muttered, looking up at one of the officers at the door. “Larson, Max is going to go out with you, I need you to check her over and stay outside with her. And tell Terry we’re going to need him.” He reached around Billy’s arm to grab Max’s hand, sliding her out from under Billy and over to him. He gathered her in his arms in one swoop, telling her something too quiet for Billy to hear. He must have passed her over to the Larson guy, because the next thing Billy knew Hopper had a hand on the back of his head, trying to get him to respond.

“Billy, I need you to look at me alright? I need to know where you’re hurt, and I can’t do that if you’re unresponsive.”

Billy screwed his eyes shut, pushing through the sharp pain that was making itself known in his side. “Son of a bitch .”

Hopper let out a heavy breath, his shoulders losing some of their tension at Billy’s profanity. “Thank God, kid. Can you lift your head for me?”

Billy raised his head, feeling the dried blood on his mouth crack when he parted his lips. He wasn’t sure how much his nose had bled, but based on the red trails running down his shirt and chest it had been a lot. He gave the Chief a weak grin, trying to pull some semblance of himself together. He felt shattered, like all the little pieces of him had been smashed on the floor, all the shards too small for him to even find.

“Damn it,” Hopper swore, taking in Billy’s bloodied appearance. “How’s your head Billy?”

“Feels like it got slammed into a table,” Billy slurred, feeling a headache coming on. “Might want to clean the wood, it got blood all over it.”

“Fuck the table,” Hopper muttered. He swiped a gentle thumb underneath Billy’s nose and it came back bright red. “Shit. Terry!” he yelled, keeping his gaze on Billy. “We’re going to transport him!”

“Roger that!” came a responding cry, and Billy let his eyes fall shut again. He didn’t need to be awake for whatever happened next did he? He could just close his eyes and let everything fall away. Maybe when he woke up it would all be an alcohol-induced fever dream. 

Except someone was patting his face, giving it a gentle shake. “Son, I’m going to need you to open your eyes for me.”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, jerking his head away from the touch. “Hop, get ‘im off me.”

“The Chief’s going to meet you at the hospital Billy, can you stand? We have a stretcher ready if you don’t feel up to it.”

Billy’s eyes snapped open. Sure to the man’s—he was pretty sure his name was Terry—words, Hopper was nowhere in sight. Fuck him. He ignored Terry’s outstretched arm and tried to push himself up and to his feet despite his dizziness. Halfway up his leg gave out on him and he fell back onto the ground, letting out a string of curses that would have made Susan cry.

Terry, to his credit, seemed unruffled by Billy’s profanity-laced outburst. “Okay then. My buddy Sam’s coming in with a gurney. We’re going to get you to the hospital fast and safe, alright? This is mostly precaution, but we’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to your safety. If you don’t feel comfortable with anything that’s going on just let me know. We’re going to get some meds for you to help with your back.”

Two more men came into the house, lowering a medical stretcher between them. It was all some goddamn fucking joke if you asked Billy. Just give him a bottle of tequila and some aspirin and he’d be fine. No need for all the shitty theatrics.

The medics worked around his half-hearted protests, loading him up and on the stupid-ass stretcher with an efficiency that was honestly a little impressive. He shoved down the panic that surged when they secured the straps, focusing on the feel of his basketball shorts between his fingers. His back hurt like hell, and he hoped that this Terry guy kept the good stuff on him. 

Terry kept his hand on Billy’s arm as they drove to the hospital, and Billy couldn’t decide if it made him want to throw up in disgust or cry in relief. Touch really was a fucked up concept in his mind. A wave of exhaustion hit him like a truck, and Billy let his eyes close despite his surroundings, slipping away into the painless realm of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Billy awoke in a bed that he didn’t recognize. Stiff starched sheets and a metal railing. If the sharp disinfectant smell didn’t give it away, the beeping of his heart monitor would. He was in the goddamn Hawkins hospital. His dad was going to have a seizure over the bill.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, lifting up his hand to stare at the IV that was stuck in him. A quick glance around his pastel-painted room told him he was completely alone, save for the limp bouquet of flowers by his bed that made him want to knock the vase to the ground. Where the hell was everyone?

Though honestly he really wasn’t surprised if Hopper decided to just leave him here. It was a nice plan if you thought about it. A domestic violence record on Neil would be enough to get Max out of the house, and then they could just let Billy float into the system until his dad got custody back. It was what Billy would do if he was in Hopper’s shoes.

He just hoped they let him out of this fucking hospital soon. He needed a cigarette, and he didn’t think any of the nurses here would be eager to spot him one. And lying in this hospital bed for too long? He was going to go crazy. 

There was a soft rapping at the door and then a nurse’s head peeked through the door, a kind smile on her face. “Hey honey, it’s good to see you up. My name is Cindy, and I’m going to be taking care of you while you’re here. ” She bustled in with a tray, letting the door click softly behind her. “You got out of surgery a couple of hours ago, so you might be a little sore. I would also imagine you’re a little hungry, so I brought you a little something.”

Billy pushed himself up into a sitting position, eyeing her warily. She reminded him of one of his elementary school teachers back in Cali, with the same curly hair and round cheeks. “How long has it been since I got here?”

“I’d say about a day.” She settled the tray on his bed, looking over at him with eyes that made him want to cry. It was probably the meds talking, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that. “I’m sure some people will come by today to visit you, so I’ll make sure to give you a heads up when they do.”

Billy didn’t have the heart to tell her that he probably wouldn’t get any visitors, so he just nodded. She smoothed down the sheets on the side of the bed and gave him another smile before leaving, and Billy suddenly had a hole in his chest. 

The jello on the tray was a deep red color, and when Billy looked at it he was reminded of the color of his blood as it dripped from his nose onto Max’s jeans. A wave of nausea rose up and he grabbed the tray, shoving it over onto the bedside table. The vase fell over onto the floor with a hollow clatter, crushing a couple of the flower heads onto the floor. There wasn’t any water in the vase, and the petals looked like they had been stranded on the cold tile.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding it in his lungs until they ached. He’d give social services a day, maybe two if he was lucky before they came knocking. He’d have to ask them if his dad had been charged with anything, and if so how hefty the fine. The more his dad would have to pay the harder he would hit when Billy got back home, so he wasn’t exactly looking forward to hearing the news.   

He released his breath, the sudden rush of oxygen making him light headed. If he wasn’t 16 he’d have signed himself out of here the moment he woke up. Maybe if he flirted hard enough with one of the younger nurses they would sneak him a cigarette. He’d have to work a little harder, what with his face being busted, but he could get the job done. If California had taught him anything it was how to smooth-talk his way into and out of practically anything. 

The door creaked back open and then Cindy was back, a touch of concern in her smile. “I was just coming to take your tray back. Do you not like jello, honey? I can get you something else if you like.”

“I’m not hungry,” he lied.

“Well I’m going to need you to try and eat something,” she said, picking up the plastic vase from the floor. “Your body needs energy.”

“My body needs a goddamn cigarette,” Billy said, wishing she would leave the vase alone. 

“No it most definitely does not,” Cindy said firmly, placing the crumpled flowers back into the vase. “And it will certainly not get one while you are in my care. Leave your poor lungs alone.”

Billy scowled, picking at the loose strings on his blanket. Screw his lungs. It was a free country, he should be able to smoke if he damn wanted to. Hell, at this point he wanted to smoke more for the principle of it than the nicotine. 

“Now what can I get you? I’ve got pudding, juice, crackers, does anything sound good?”

Billy, really, honest to God, wasn't hungry, but if it would get Cindy off his back he’d eat something. “Some crackers I guess.”

She nodded, picking up the tray from the bedside table. “Alright, I’ll be right back with that for you.”

Billy sighed, letting his head roll to the side until he was facing the wall. They were lucky they hadn’t put him in a room with a window, otherwise he’d have been gone half an hour ago. He wondered if they had let Neil out of custody yet. Hopper would almost certainly make sure Max was out of Neil’s custody, whether that was with Susan or not, and he felt bad for the poor fool who would have to break the news of Max’s relocation to his dad. Hell hath no fury like Neil scorned. 

He was trying not to be angry at Max, trying not to place all the blame onto her. She was just a kid after all, she couldn’t really understand what she was doing, what her actions would result in. But hell, if he wasn’t pissed at her. She had up and ruined everything, set his entire life on fire and then escaped to safety to watch it burn. She was probably sitting with her friends right now, telling them about her traumatic escape from her evil step-dad. Hopper was probably there too, reassuring Max that she was safe now, that she wouldn’t have to see Neil or Billy ever again. 

But it was a hollow sort of anger. It didn’t burn like it usually did, it ached. It opened up a hole in his chest, something wide and deep that he wasn’t sure he could fill. It seemed fitting, somehow. That he would end up like this. Alone and empty. It wasn’t like he deserved much better anyhow. He was just surprised it had taken this long. 

He pretended to be asleep when Cindy came back in, closing his eyes and feigning his breathing. She left the crackers and a cup of water on his bedside table but Billy couldn’t even think about forcing food down. He’d have plenty of time to eat later, it wasn’t like they were going to leave him to his own devices until Neil was out of whatever legal trouble this had placed him in. If Billy was really lucky they might even wait until the paperwork was finished before Billy was shipped off to fuck knows where. 

If the CPS in Hawkins was as hawkish as the one back in California he’d be sitting in a foster home before the week was up. Any friend who’d been in the system back in Cali had told a slight variation of the same story, one of no supervision and lax rules, nonexistent curfews and parent-teacher meetings without the parent. Hell, Billy was down for that kind of lifestyle. But something was telling him that the parenting style in Hawkins would differ from the one in California. He’d seen the muscles on some of the farmers around town, and he had no desire to find himself on the receiving end of a plow-hardened hand. 

What the hell had they done with his clothes? He felt too exposed in the flimsy hospital gown he was in, what with the open back and papery material. He wanted his jeans back. And his shirts. They better not have thrown away his basketball shorts, they were the only pair he had. Maybe he could bribe one of the nurses to bring him something to wear that didn’t feel like paper. 

He glanced at the call button next to his bed, considering calling Cindy back over to ask her about his clothes whereabouts. Except then she probably would be upset with him for not eating the crackers she had brought him. He pulled the tray over towards him, picking up a saltine from the pile. Looks like he was going to have to give something to take something. It tasted like sawdust in his mouth but he choked down a handful, washing them down with sips of water. 

He looked back over at the call button, his desire to press it dissipating by the second. Who was he kidding? They wouldn’t give him his clothes. He wasn't getting out of here until someone let him out. Fuck it all. 

==================================================================

He was staring at the wall when his door opened and a serious looking lady walked through, her glasses perched high up on her nose. She had a hefty looking file in her arms, as well as a notepad to accompany the pen tucked over her ear. 

“Is that my criminal record?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was a pretty large folder, and he was guessing it contained his school and medical records or some shit like that. 

She faltered near the door, looking down at the file and then up at Billy. “Do you have a criminal record Mr. Hargrove?”

“Shouldn’t that be something you already know? What with that fancy file you got there.”

She pursed her lips. “I am not here to waste time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. What brings you into my private office?” He swept an arm out as he drawled the words sarcastically, pretending like the sterile smell of the hospital wasn’t driving him crazy.

She pulled a chair over to Billy’s bed, placing the files onto his table. She cleared her throat and straightened her jacket, leveling Billy with a stern look. “My name is Ms. Reeves. I’m part of the Hawkin’s Child Protective Services, and I’m here to discuss what happens next with you.”

Billy shouldn’t have expected anything else, he knew that. He knew that Hopper telling him that he’d see him in the hospital was just something to get Billy on the stretcher, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of his absence. He’d still held on to a little of that hope, and now it had burned a hole in him. The lady sitting next to him felt like a slap in the face. One that asked, how pathetic was it that you actually thought he’d be here ?

He skipped straight to the question he wanted to know the answer to. “What happened with my dad?”

“Your father was taken into custody, and he posted bail this morning. He has a court hearing in a couple of weeks. Maxine has been removed from his custody, considering she was his step-child.”

Billy rubbed a hand across his forehead. He didn’t need to ask whether his dad would still have custody over him. “Where’s Susan?”

“Susan Hargrove?”

“What other Susan would I be talking about?”

Ms. Reeves shifted her eyes down to her files. “We are currently unable to locate Mrs. Hargrove.”

Well shit. She had just up and left hadn’t she? The thought of being held responsible for Neil’s actions probably scared her right out of town. It would be rough on Max, he knew that much. And even though all of this was her fault, he could empathize with how it felt to get left behind. Apparently it was a family tradition.

“So where are you shoving me off to? At least until my old man gets out of this mess?” 

Ms. Reeves adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. “Well. Considering that you are a minor, we’re going to have to place you with a foster family.”

“And I bet they’re just lining up to take the job,” Billy said with a small laugh. “Who’s the lucky bastard who has to take me in?”

“I would like to preface this discussion by informing you of the position I am in. In a town as small as Hawkins, the number of foster placements we have are severely limited. Especially ones that are equipped to handle your type of case. Luckily—” she paused here, as if to emphasize just how grateful Billy should be for whatever she was going to say next. “We have found a couple who has agreed to take you in for the time being. Mr. and Mrs. Turner.”

His type of case. That was bullshit. He leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s just wonderful. When do I get the honor and privilege of their company?”

“You know, this will be a much smoother process if you have a good attitude about it. You’ll be released this Friday. My colleague Mr. Werther and I will be here to transport you. I suggest you try to make the process as easy as possible.” Ms. Reeves said, opening up the file on the bedside table.

Billy was sick and tired of trying to make things easy. “Fuck you.”

Ms. Reeves paused from her file reading to give Billy a chilly stare. “I will also have you know that Mr. and Mrs. Turner do not condone profanity.” She lifted a paper out of his file and placed it carefully to the side. “Is there anything I need to know that isn’t in your file?”

“How would I know what’s in my file?”

She ignored his sarcastic remark and slid a paper towards him. “You’ve faced disciplinary charges back in your old school over fighting. Will this be an issue for you?”

Billy looked down at his middle school records with a flash of anger. One of his teachers had seen bruises on his arm and assumed he had been fighting, filing a report with discipline without telling him. It had been a nasty surprise when he had arrived home to an irate Neil. And now this lady was trying to drag it up again.

“They never proved I was actually fighting,” he bit out, shoving the paper back towards her.

“Are you calling your teacher a liar?”

“I’m saying she made an incorrect assumption based on the information she was given,” Billy said coldly, digging his nail into the pad of his thumb. Who the hell had hired this bitch?

“So we won’t have any problems with your placement then? No fighting, and no aggression? I understand that picking fights with adults can be a sense of normal for you, and I would like to give Mr. Turner fair warning.”

Billy was five seconds away from rocking this lady’s shit. “Do you think I’m in this stupid bed because I picked a fight with my dad? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I am only asking if you like to instigate conflict.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

 “ Language , please. And it was simply a question. Now, if that is all, I will be back at the end of the week to collect you and your things.”

“Where’s Max?”

“Pardon?”

He shrugged. “If Susan is gone, where are you putting Max?”

“Oh, Joyce Byers has taken her in for the present time. I’m sure if you ask the Turner’s they would be happy to let you visit her.” Ms. Reeves said, a softness creeping into her tone. “I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

Billy laughed. “You’ve never met Max, have you? I guarantee she’s just fine without me.”

Ms. Reeves opened her mouth and then closed it, before opening it again.  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Billy just smiled. “Got any cigarettes in that folder of yours?”

“Absolutely not,” she admonished, standing up. “Good day.”

“Where’s my car?”

She glanced down at the file and then up at Billy. “I’m not sure. I guess it’s still at your house.”

“Then let me get it on the way to the Turner’s on Saturday.”

“I’m not sure you should be driving. Not in your condition.”

“Hell no. You aren’t stranding me with some strangers without my car. How am I supposed to get to school?”

Ms. Reeves let out a small sigh. “There’s only a couple weeks of school left. The doctor’s think it would be best for you to take that time to rest.”

Billy laughed. “What the hell is this then? Strenuous activity? You can’t stop me from going to school.”

“The Turner’s live 45 minutes away from the school. So unless you plan on walking a couple of hours each morning, you will be resting . If you are that firmly opposed to staying still, you could ask Mr. Turner if you may help him around his farm.”

“Get out of my fucking room.”

“I will see you on Friday.” Ms. Reeves said, bristling. “Do try and curb your tongue in the meantime.”

Billy watched her gather his file and walk out. A fucking farm? He didn’t want to go to a goddamn farmhouse. And like hell would he be doing any sort of farmwork, so those Turner people better get that idea out of their heads real fast. 

He scowled angrily at the door, and then threw a cracker at it, watching as it bounced off the wood and onto the tile floor. It broke in half upon impact, and for a second Billy was reminded of his old alarm clock. Except this time the cracker didn’t make him feel better. 

They had to let him stop by his house on Friday to gather his clothes and shit, and then maybe he could persuade them to let him grab his car. He needed it. The idea of being stranded at some farmhouse over half an hour away from civilization made his skin crawl. And who knows what Neil would do to his car while he was away. Billy had stopped underestimating Neil’s pettiness a long damn time ago. 

Without his car it would be like dropping off the face of the earth. And the only people who knew what had happened were Max and Hopper. Whether or not they had shared that information with anyone else was anyone’s guess. All of her dork squad probably knew, and as a result Steve probably did too. He wondered how much satisfaction they had gotten out of knowing that he got his ass kicked on the regular. They were probably visiting his house to give Neil their heartfelt thanks. 

“Hi Mr. Hargrove, it’s Steve Harrington, I’m the boy your son beat up. I was just stopping by to thank you for beating his face in, since I never got the opportunity to do it myself. I just wish you had told me sooner so I could have appreciated it more.”

Hopper would probably fund the celebration party. Hell, he was probably ecstatic that now that Max had been moved out of the blast zone. Hopper wouldn’t need to keep tabs on Billy, and he would have his jacket and his couch back. No more wasting money on Billy when he ended up eating dinner at their place, and no more forced conversations at the quarry. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Chapter Text

Billy rubbed the worn hem of his shirt between his fingers, trying his best to pay attention to what Cindy was telling him. They had washed the shirt free of bloodstains and it smelled like laundry detergent. There was a sudden silence and he looked up and over at Cindy, feeling slightly guilty at the tired look on her face. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, letting the shirt fall onto his lap. “I’m paying attention. Get changed cause they’re coming in an hour to haul me away, I know.”

Cindy just sighed. “Half an hour, Billy. They’re coming in half an hour. So how about you go on and get changed now.” 

“Half an hour?” Billy made a face, glancing up at the clock on the wall. “Can’t they give a guy some time to process? I’ve been awake for like two hours.”

Cindy’s brows drew together and she gave Billy’s shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, honey. I know it’s not a lot of time. I’ll try and hold her off as long as possible, give you a little space to think.”

“Can you tell her I escaped? Out the hallway window? I’ll tie the bedsheets together and everything.”

Cindy smiled at him. “I’ll see what I can do. Now off with you. Shoo.”

Billy gave a half-hearted salute before gathering his clothes and disappearing into the tiny bathroom. Cindy was gone when he walked back out, and he was grateful for the privacy. Not that he was going to break down or anything, it was just nice to be able to drop the confident façade he usually plastered onto his face. For all that he liked to pretend he didn’t give a shit what happened to him, he was usually pretty damn terrified. This was unknown waters and these people were throwing him in the deep end. 

He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to put his hospital gown so he dropped it on the nearest chair, yanking it back up when it started to slip off. He couldn’t help but see faded splotches when he looked down at his shirt, distorted circles that reminded him of just how much blood could come from someone’s nose. Detergent could only erase so much, and the hardly noticeable marks seemed to stand out in bright red against the fabric.

He dragged his eyes upwards, resolved to ignore the memories that were forcing themselves to the front of his mind. You got knocked down, you got up, and then you forgot about it. That was how it worked, and that was how it would work this time. Billy wasn’t going to waste time feeling sorry for himself, not when he still had to face the shit-pile that was Ms. Reeves and his new housing situation.   

He had just enough time to collect his bearings before Ms. Reeves was bustling through the door, a stony-looking man shadowing behind her who was introduced as Mr. Werther. Cindy gave him an apologetic look through the doorway before Ms. Reeves was shutting it in her face. She was like a whirlwind of activity, signing papers and rushing Billy out of the hospital with a ruthless efficiency. The man lingered in the back during it all and Billy wondered if he was here to make sure Billy didn’t try and make a run for it. It was a pretty good idea, as the thought had crossed Billy’s mind more than once in the past hour. But he still felt shaky and he knew he wouldn’t get far before he got taken down. Better save the escape for a time he’d really need it. 

They swung by his house to let him pack a garbage bag of clothes and belongings. Billy couldn’t really think, and he hoped that the random variety of clothes he had yanked out of his drawer would be enough. His cigarettes and alcohol stash went next, rolled carefully in his socks to avoid confiscation. He tried to ask about his car again but was shut down with such a chilling refusal that he didn’t bother to ask again. He made sure to grab his keys, and figured he’d walk back and get his car some other day this week. 

He sat himself at the kitchen table, opposite the bloodstain someone had half-heartedly cleaned and watched as Ms. Reeves sorted through a stack of papers, trying to find the ones that the Turners needed to sign. There were so many papers to be signed that he felt like he was getting sold. 

“Where’s my dad supposed to be during all this?”

Ms. Reeves peered up at him through her glasses. “Pardon?”

“Did you just tell him to fuck off for a couple of hours? Like what if he walked through that door right now?”

Ms. Reeves looked affronted. “Your father was made aware of when we would be stopping by. Him stopping by during that time could get his parole revoked, so I do not think he would be that foolish.”

Billy grinned, leaning forward. “Yeah, I get that. But what if he did?”

She spluttered and set down the papers she was sifting through with a thud. “Mr. Hargrove. What is the point of such a line of questioning?”

“Would you make Mr. Werther fight him? Now that I’d pay to see.”

“That is a highly inappropriate remark.”

“Because from the looks of it your buddy has a decent build. I’d give him a fighting chance.”

“If you cannot hold your tongue I will have you wait in the car for me.”

“Kinky,” Billy said, winking at her. “Should I pull out the handcuffs?”

Ms. Reeves glared at him, adjusting her glasses with a manicured hand. “I don’t think you’d like it if I had to get Mr. Werther in here to talk to you.”

There it was. The card up the sleeve. No need to persuade Billy to do something when you could just force him to. Hell, why even ask in the first place. 

Billy glared back at her. “I’m not into bodyguards. Are we done yet?”

“You are one of the most insolent people I have ever met. But yes, I am done. Let’s go.”

The car ride to the Turner’s farm was long and silent. Billy stared out the window for most of it, his heart sinking as each minute went by and they were still driving farther away from his house.  The suburbs were a solid 10 minutes away at this point, and he could see civilization slipping out of his grasp.

The paved road eventually gave way to dirt and soon they were rumbling up a dusty trail, a crumbling wooden fence winding along beside them. A run-down house and sagging barn perched at the end, and Billy already hated everything about it.

Ms. Reeves toddled out of the car and up towards the house’s porch, her heels leaving a trail of indents in the dirt. Billy followed a few steps behind, only moving because he didn’t feel like getting dragged up the wooden stairs by Mr. Bodyguard behind him. Where the hell did she even find this guy? Leave it up to Hawkins to have the sketchiest CPS in existence. 

She knocked and then stepped backwards until she was next to Billy. She brushed a speck of dirt from his shoulder, ignoring the way he flinched backwards. “Do try and act respectable. I would really like to not be called back here in a week because you couldn’t behave yourself.”

Billy bristled at the patronizing tone and gave her a sharp smile. “Fuck you.”

There was a sharp smack to the back of his head at the same time Ms. Reeves gave an offended sniff, letting him know that Ms. Reeves' earlier threat was a true one. And since they were balls-deep in the backwoods of Hawkins, no one would give a shit how he went about it. Billy clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders to try and get rid of the tension that was building up. 

The front door swung open and a rail-thin woman was in the entry-way, her hair pulled back into a severe bun that accentuated the sharpness of her face. She gave Billy an appraising once-over before addressing Ms. Reeves in a hard voice. “Is this him then?”

“Yes it is, Billy come on over and say hi to Ms. Turner.”

Billy stayed where he was and gave Ms. Turner a tight smile. He wasn’t a pet and he wasn’t about to let Ms. Reeves try and show him off like one. He’d probably be here for a week at most, and all he needed to do was stay out of the way, not play house with fake parents.

“He’s a little shy,” Ms. Reeves said, trying to smooth over the small snag in her plans. “But he’s a hard worker. Strong too.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at that one. Hard worker? What the hell was this, rent-a-farmhand? Was she seriously shipping him off to sum bum-fuck farm in the middle of nowhere so he could do manual labor? Aw, hell. That had to be illegal. That had to be so fucking illegal.

“Sorry,” he said, raising a hand and drawing the two ladies' attention to him. “I think there’s been a small misunderstanding. I don’t really do the whole farm-work thing, but I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.” He flashed a smooth grin before a hand settled on his shoulder with a threatening weight and pulled him backwards off the steps so he was standing behind Ms. Reeves. If he wasn’t stranded here he would have decked Mr. Werther.

“He looks like trouble,” Ms. Turner said, looking at Billy in disapproval. “Josiah can manage him, but we’re going to need more than the state stipend for our troubles. You didn’t say he was obstinate.”

“Oh, he’s not that obstinate. He’s just nervous, you know how teenagers get. And it’s going to be harder on Josiah with Terry away at college, you know he could use the extra help.”

“How about no,” Billy spoke up, raising an eyebrow at the proceedings. “I don’t know what sort of child-slavery ring you’ve got going on here, but I am opting myself out of it. So thanks but no thanks.”

The hand moved and grabbed his elbow, pulling him sideways and then behind the car. Billy was caught off balance as he stumbled, trying not to lose his balance as Mr. Werther swung him around and pressed him up against the car. The hand on his elbow moved up to his shoulder, trapping him between the car and Mr. Werther.

“Listen, kid. This isn’t pick-a-home. We stick you where there’s room. And here there’s room. So shut up and get inside when we tell you to.”

Billy glared down at Mr. Werther through the strands of hair that had fallen across his eyes. “Yeah? Or what? You’ll say how disappointed you are with my decisions?”

Mr. Werther leaned in closer. “Or I let your file slip through the goddamn cracks and we never have to deal with your ungrateful ass again. So I’m going to give you the opportunity to walk back over and act like the well-behaved child we both know you aren’t.”

Billy reached up and pushed the man’s hand away in a surge of anger. “Whatever the hell you’ve got going on here is so illegal you’re lucky I don’t go straight to the police. How’s that for an opportunity.”

Mr. Werther seemed to find that amusing, a small smile appearing on his lips. “And you think they would believe you? You’ve been through that station so many times they’d probably write the Turners a hand-made thank you card. And then the Chief himself would lick the stamp.”

Billy let out a breathy laugh, glancing over at the dry, dusty road they had driven up. The funny part was that he was right. They’d be thrilled to get him off their hands. “How much money are you getting out of this?”

“It’s just business, kid,” Mr. Werther said, losing his smile. “It’s not personal, so don’t get prissy.”

Billy scowled at him but allowed himself to be marched back towards the two women. He was manhandled to a spot right behind Ms. Reeves, and shifted on his feet, ignoring the jab he got in the back for moving. The way the two women were looking at each other told Billy that the negotiations were not going as well as they had hoped. Hell, maybe if Billy was really lucky they wouldn’t even want to take him in anymore. 

“Come on Mary, it's extra hands on deck. All you have to do is give him a bed and some food. Please.”

“And still have to deal with interruptions from the state? This is sounding like more work than it’s worth.I am compassionate, but I will not be walked over.”

Ms. Reeves glanced down at her folder and then up at Ms. Turner again. She opened her mouth and then closed it, looking a little like a fish out of water. Billy would have felt bad for her if she wasn’t discussing selling him like a piece of meat. “Okay, okay. And I can raise your cut to 30%. Is that good?”

Billy froze, his eyes flicking from Ms. Turner to Ms. Reeves. Was she goddamn serious? This had to be breaking every ethical code in the book. She was quite literally clearing her hands of him, and he would officially be stranded.

Ms. Turner hesitated and then nodded, pursing her lips in annoyance. “You best be keeping the government out of our business then. I will not have Josiah taken away for trying to manage an unruly child you sent us.”

Ms. Reeves had the decency to look slightly guilty as she nodded. “As long as I’m not visiting another hospital. Thank you again for being able to take him in on such short notice.” With that she turned and started back down the steps, avoiding looking Billy in the eyes. “It was nice getting to know you Billy, you’ll be fine here.”

Billy watched in disbelief as Mr. Werther grabbed his trash bag from the trunk and deposited it at Billy’s feet before getting back into the car and driving him and Ms. Reeves away. The situation was almost laughable. In less than 5 minutes they had been able to drop him off, agree to never check up on him, and then leave like the house was on fire. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” Ms. Turner snapped. “Grab your stuff.”

Billy moved without thinking, grabbing his trash bag and following her into the house. The inside was just as worn down on the outside, water-stained wallpaper and sagging furniture cluttering the corners and walls. Dim lamps scattered precariously across furniture did nothing to reduce the shabbiness of the house, and Billy was hit with a sense of claustrophobia. 

He followed her down a beige hallway to a door at the very end, stepping hesitantly inside as she opened it. It was small and plain, with one window to shed weak light across the floor. There was a twin sized bed and a wooden dresser, and that was about it. Billy was surprised he even had sheets. 

“I’ll come get you when it’s time for supper,” she said and Billy turned around in time to see the door close behind her. There was a click of a lock and then Billy was alone. He walked over to the door and tried the handle, ignoring the panic unfurling in his chest when it wouldn’t budge. It was fine, everything was fine. 

He dragged his trash bag by the bed, letting it fall with a sad thump to the floor. He didn’t bother trying to unpack anything, simply rummaging around until he located what he was looking for. Cheap liquor had never seemed so appealing. He took a small, burning swig, relishing the way it felt like fire going down his throat. He settled on the floor, leaning back against the foot of the bed. Might as well get comfortable. 

=======================================================================

Billy had barely taken a fourth sip when he heard the front door slam open, heavy footsteps following the sound. 

“Mary!” a man shouted, his voice short and gruff. “Why the hell did I see that social services bitch driving away from our home!”

“Because you need the help, you old coot! If you weren’t so stingy, then maybe we could make a decent profit off of your sorry farm. And since you’re too damn stubborn to see that, I have to make the important decisions around here!”

“You shut the hell up, woman. I told you I didn’t want no damn delinquent running around my house! I didn’t even sign those papers, so how about you tell me how we still ended up with him.”

“Josiah, I will not survive on scraps.”

“I’ll show you scraps. I’ll show you some goddamn scraps when we’re filling out our fifth social services form for that no-good delinquent living in our guest room.”

“They’re not coming back,” Ms. Turner hissed angrily, so low Billy almost couldn’t hear it. “I got us 500 dollars and a free farmhand, and all you can do is complain.”

The man let out a slow laugh. “Oh, it’s real easy to be grateful when you’re not the one taking him to task every day,” Josiah said, his voice rising at the end. “This is not a charity house!”

There was a loud thump and the sound of glass shattering, and Billy felt like he was 8 again. Huddling in the corner of his room trying to stifle the tears as he pressed a hand to his burning cheek. He’d complained about eating his vegetables all the time before this, but apparently he had done something wrong, because his dad hadn’t given him a stern look. He’d just swept out an arm, almost knocking Billy out of his chair with the force of the backhand. 

He never understood what had gone wrong that night. When exactly that invisible ugliness had decided to take up residence in Billy’s soul. He had wanted to ask his Mom, but she had been gone 9 months, 7 days, and 12 hours. Maybe she had seen it before Neil had. Maybe she had gotten out early. 

=============================================================

The knock on his door was harsh and rushed, the lock being turned and the door thrown open with an almost hurried impatience. Ms. Turner stood in the doorway, staring down at him like he was something the cat had dragged in. “Supper is ready.”

There was no indication of her previous argument with Mr. Turner, save for the pinched look on her face. It was the same look she had on when she had opened her front door, and Billy wondered if that was how she normally looked.

He gave a nod of agreement and hauled himself up off the floor, following Mrs. Turner down the hallway and into the dining room. It looked like it had been set for two people, with a third hastily strewn on. The brown ceramic plate was an odd mismatched color, a jarring offset compared to the white porcelain dishes and glass cups. He didn’t have to guess as to which one was his. 

Mrs. Turner gave him a sideways glance and smoothed out her dress. “We’ll wait until Mr. Turner comes in before we sit.”

This was some sort of 1800’s patriarchal bullshit that Billy didn’t want any part of, but he nodded anyway, eyeing the glint of broken glass underneath the kitchen counter. The broom was leaned up in a corner, haphazardly tilting sideways.

They didn’t have to wait long, and the outside door swung open with a slam, rattling the picture frames on the wall. A tall, heavy-set man walked in with a scowl, taking his hat off and tossing it on the coat-rack. 

“Do not slam the door,” Mrs. Turner said icily, fixing him with a steady look. “It rattles my frames.”

“I don’t give a damn about your frames,” Mr. Turner said, dropping down into his seat. And you better not give me any less food now that you dragged in another mouth to feed.”

Mrs. Turner pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, simply pointing Billy towards an empty chair and taking up the serving spoon with her bony hand. She started with Mr. Turner first, heaping spoonful after spoonful onto his plate under his watchful eye. 

“So you’re the help,” Mr. Turner said, lifting his gaze to stare at Billy. 

Billy leaned back in his seat and eyed the man warily. “No, I’m just stuck here until my old man gets out the mess he’s in.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Mr. Turner replied, his tone as weight as his eyes. “You’re sitting in my home, eating food off of my plates, and you’re going to pull your damn weight around here.”

Billy frowned as Ms. Turner placed a few pieces of ham and a pile of green beans on his plate as well. “Yeah, well I think this is all bullshit. So we can cut the guardian crap. I’ll stay out of your way, and you’ll get paid to leave me alone until my dad has his hearing. Deal?”

It was a risky move, starting out strong like that, but he never really had the patience for the long game. Not with Neil, and not with this man in front of him. 

Mr. Turner pointed at Billy with his fork. “Talk to me like that again and we’re going to have a real problem. Understand?”

Something heavy settled in Billy’s stomach and he remembered the sound of glass shattering over harsh yells. The risks never really turned out the way he hoped they would. “Yes.”

“I didn’t quite catch that. Yes what?”

“Yes. Sir.” Billy gritted out. “I understand.”

“You’ll be up at 5:30 tomorrow morning to start your chores. If you want lunch you’ll be in the barn at that time.”

“And what about dinner? Sir. Will I need to be in the barn by 8?” Billy drawled. It was an equally stupid move, poking the bear like this, but the whole up-by-5 shtick was pissing him the hell off. This whole thing was rubbing him the wrong way. 

Mr. Turner stared at Billy, chewing slowly. He took a sip of water and then set the glass down firmly.  “Any more disrespect from you and we’re going to the barn right now.”

The heaviness turned sour. He was here to do some goddamn manual labor. And there wasn’t a single damn person who was going to give a damn about it. For the first time in his life Billy wished he was with his dad. At least then he knew what to expect. At least then he knew what the rules were. With no house visits to check on Billy, he could do whatever he wanted and no one would ever know. 

Billy forced down the food on his plate, his appetite gone. Ms. Turner dismissed him once he had finished and he gladly escaped to his new room, eager to shut the door between him and the Tuners. He didn’t even mind when the tell-tale sound of the lock sounded a couple minutes later. It wasn’t like he wanted to go out there anyways.

He couldn’t figure out how to open his window, and he didn’t want to risk the room smelling like smoke so he left his cigarettes at the bottom of his bag, his fingers itching to light them up. He settled for lukewarm alcohol instead, taking what he could get at this point. He pulled over his trash-bag, rummaging through it in between sips to figure out what clothes he had brought with him. His fingers closed over something small and soft and he pulled it out, staring at Max’s hair scrunchie.

It was blue, the one she had been looking for the last couple of weeks. She liked to rifle through his records collection when he wasn’t home, and she must have dropped it the last time she was in his room. He’d told her thousands of times to leave his shit alone, but this was proof that she never listened to him. Looking at it made a hole open up in his chest so he dropped it back into his trash-bag, shoving the whole bag a few feet away from him. Fuck all of this.

Billy took another drag from his bottle before stowing it back in his trash bag. His supplies were limited, and he needed to ration them. 

Chapter Text

Billy was in the barn by 5:30. Rule number one on testing boundaries was that you always started small. You had to work your way up, and seeing as Billy didn’t want to miss out on lunch, he figured he’d try to put on a good act for at least the first day or two. He needed time to classify which behaviors the Turners would let slide, and which ones they would not. It was a science, alright?

Mr. Turner had grunted when Billy walked in, his hair tousled and clothes wrinkled from being in the trash bag. Billy made sure to draw his shoulders back and stand up tall, to try and shake off the look Mr. Turner was giving him. He was sick and tired of having people look at him like he was dirt.

“Grab a pitchfork and start moving hay down from the loft to that pile over there.”

“From up there to down here?”

“Is that not what I just said?”

“I was just clarifying,” Billy muttered, looking up at the loft. “I’ve never worked on a farm before.”

“It explains the lack of discipline,” Mr. Turner said. “However you will not be using that as an excuse to get out of your chores and responsibilities. An idle hand leads to a wicked heart, and I will not have that in my home.”

Billy grabbed the rusty pitchfork leaning on the wall next to him and glanced up at the loft, eyeing the rickety ladder with suspicion. “Fine, jeez. How am I supposed to get up there without that thing collapsing on me?”

“You didn’t come here to ask foolish questions, you came here to pull your weight,” Mr. Turner said, hauling a brown sack-cloth bag over his shoulder. “Now you best be up there and hauling by the time I get back.”

Billy blew out a breath and leaned on the handle of his pitchfork. He really didn’t want to climb up the stupid thing, it looked like a safety violation. But he also didn’t feel like getting smacked around his first day here. “Fucking hell,” Billy muttered, grabbing the pitchfork and stalking towards the ladder. He weighed it in his hands before deciding to just throw it up there, winding back and letting it fly with a prayer it didn’t land on his head. There was a soft thump and Billy moved his focus to the ladder.

The wood was rough underneath his palms, and Billy could already tell he would get splinters from this. He took a deep breath and placed his weight on the lower rung, wincing as it led out a creaking noise. He climbed up it as fast as he could, praying the rickety thing wouldn’t snap on him. He scrambled up over the top and onto the loft with a prayer up to the heavens, taking a second to enjoy the feeling of a solid floor underneath him. 

He glanced around at the piles of hay around him, not entirely sure what exactly he was supposed to be doing. He had never worked on a farm before, hell, he’d never stepped foot on a farm before, and he was completely lost. Was he supposed to just throw all of the hay down there, or was he only supposed to move some of it? And was he supposed to throw it a certain way or just toss it over in the general direction? 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, stabbing the pitchfork into a pile of hay. He’d just toss it over until Mr. Turner came back over. He set to work with a quiet determination, trying to channel the frustration and anger of the past days into his task. He worked up a sweat as he tossed over pitchforks of hay, making his way through a particularly large pile. 

It was back-breaking, but part of it reminded him of the sand-castles he had used to build on the beaches back in Cali as a kid. He’d dig for hours with the little blue shovel his mom had given him, tunneling moats and ridges around his creations. It was exhausting, laborious work, but the sense of pride he had felt when he was standing, covered in sand, looking down at his masterpiece gave him a feeling that was like nothing else. Except maybe the kisses his mom would press to his forehead.

He didn’t get that same feeling from shoveling dirty hay off a loft, but it made his mind go silent, and that was as much as he could hope for right now. At least with this farm he got to do his work in solitude. There were few things worse than doing chores while someone was hovering over your shoulder ready to criticize every move you made. 

It was a Susan classic, the way she managed to always be within 3 feet of Billy when he was doing dishes or dusting off cabinets. The little hums she would make whenever he missed a spot made him want to haul off and punch someone. He didn’t know if his tasks here ranged into the house, but if they did he hoped Mrs. Turner wasn’t the hovering type. 

He collapsed onto the wooden floor when he was done, ignoring the strands of prickly hay stabbing into his back. He could only see the wooden ceiling from this position, and it was nice to pretend the rest of his surroundings didn’t exist. Though he had to admit the wooden slats weren’t the most exciting thing to look at.

“BOY!”

Billy bolted upright, shuffling sideways to peer over the edge. Mr. Turner was standing by the hay pile Billy had created, glaring upwards with a thunderous look on his face. “What is this mess you created?!”

Billy glanced over to his pile and then back at Mr. Turner. Sure, it was a little messy, and probably a little bigger than it was supposed to be, but he didn’t think it was that bad. “What?”

“What. Is. This. Mess?” Mr. Turner hissed, jabbing a finger at the pile of hay. “Did you shove half of our weeks’ worth of hay onto the floor?”

Billy stared at the man in shock. Was he serious? He hadn’t given him any instructions on how to do this stupid chore, and now he was getting yelled at because he had shoveled too much fucking hay? “You just said to shovel it!” Billy protested. “How the hell was I supposed to know it was too much?”

“Get down here.”

Billy sighed but shuffled over to the ladder, climbing down as slow as he could without making it obvious. He looked at Mr. Turner warily when he reached the bottom, not wanting to get any closer to the man than he had to.

“Over here, boy.”

Billy shoved his hands in his pockets and took a couple steps closer. “You didn’t give me any fucking instructions, I told you I didn’t live in a barn. What did you think would happen?”

Mr. Turner jerked his hand up, catching Billy with a sharp hit to the side of his head. “You best watch your mouth. I do not tolerate that sort of filth in my house.”

Billy bit down on his lip to hold back the list of words he wanted to spew at the man. He had a feeling they would earn him more than a knock upside the head. “I’m sorry.”

“So now you will pick up that pitchfork and separate your mistake into two piles, both in a respectful, well-sized, shape. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Billy said, glancing over in trepidation at the ladder he would have to climb again to retrieve his pitchfork. Mr. Turner gave him a stern look but walked back out of the barn without saying anything else. Billy was relieved, he didn’t think he could have held his tongue any longer than he already had. Honestly, given the circumstances it was a miracle he hadn’t let some choice words fly right into the Turner’s faces.

By the time Billy had gotten through sorting the hay, Mr. Turner was back with another chore for Billy to complete. The rest of the day continued in the same fashion, with Billy being given labor-related tasks to complete with little to no instruction, followed by a snarky remark from Billy and Mr. Turner’s subsequent scathing criticism and slap upside the head.  At the end of it all Billy was jumpy and worn-out, tired of Mr. Turner’s voice, hand, and overall personality. 

And he wished he said the first day was an outlier. He’d lost count of the times Mr. Turner’s palm flew up, winding Billy up until he felt like he couldn’t sit still. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to curb his tongue. There was something strangely therapeutic about watching the storm clouds gather in the man’s eyes. TV had nothing on Mr. Turner.

Since Mr. Turner’s irrational anger was Billy’s only source of entertainment out here, he made it a game to see just how many buttons he could push before he got smacked across the head. His record was 5, in which he had acted so sarcastically polite that it had taken the old man a few minutes to even process that he was being made fun of. 

And then one day Billy knocked over a water bucket, a 5 gallon tub that was sitting by the horse stalls. In less than 30 seconds he had managed to soak his shoes and wash away an hour's worth of work stacking hay bales. And the look on Mr. Turner’s face when he walked in and saw the mess? That was probably the worst part. 

“Me and you are going to have a little chat,” Mr. Turner said, his condemning stare holding Billy to the floor. And Billy knew what that meant. He’d heard it enough from his Dad. So he wasn’t the least bit surprised when Mr. Turner walked into the tack room with anger and came out with a leather strap. 

The moment felt like falling into younger versions of himself. He’d whined about eating his broccoli, he’d missed the goal at his soccer game, he’d scuffed mud on the tile floor. The reasons blurred together until there was just one. Him.

Billy didn’t feel much like talking back after that. 

The week led into another week and Billy began to fear that his Dad had decided to just leave him here after all. It seemed to be everyone’s big idea, what with the whole “make Billy do all your work” theme he was starting to see. Though he had to say, he preferred chauffeuring Max around to shoveling cow shit and hay in some backwoods farm. At least then he had a car and some goddamn free-time. 

Billy sat on the back porch, watching the smoke curl from the cigarette dangling from his fingers. The Turner’s had gone to the town for their weekly shopping trip, and Billy felt like he could finally let his guard down. The eyes constantly hovering over his shoulder had taken a short hiatus, and he was grateful for every second he was offered.

There was a sharp acrid smell to the smoke, and he could feel it at the back of his throat. It seeped into the air around him, and he began to feel like he was breathing more chemicals than oxygen. A few weeks ago he would have moved away from the cloud, leaned around it to breathe clean air. Now he wished it would never leave. It felt like the only thing keeping him from sinking through the floor and never rising back up.

He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of his left hand, holding back a wince when his nail caught the edge of the circle shaped mark below his knuckle. It was an unfamiliar pain, which in itself was an anomaly, and it was a stingy sort of hurt that seemed to bury its way through his skin. He couldn’t keep his mind off of it, couldn’t keep his thumb from straying over. 

It wasn’t the pain that bothered him so much as the surprise. He was used to rough hands and rougher belts, not the sharp sting of a cigar against his skin. He’d watched Mr. Turner light them up all week, thick, hand-rolled things that sat clamped between his jaws. He hadn’t even seen Mr. Turner light one up when he had started flicking through the record collection in the cardboard box next to the record player. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go through it, Mr. Turner had told him that he wasn’t allowed to touch a damn thing in the house without permission, but the allure had been too hard to resist. He hadn’t been able to listen to music in what felt like ages, and he figured a quick look while Mr. Turner was getting a drink wouldn’t hurt.

The thick hand that had clamped around his wrist had surprised him, but the burning as the cigar was stamped onto the back of his hand was like nothing else he had ever felt. Angry and raw, the mark had blistered up with a frightening ferocity. His first aid supplies here were little to none, and he had hoped ignoring it would make the problem disappear. But farm work was the worst way to heal a burn mark, and it had just been darkening and settling into his skin.

But hey, what was another one added to the collection. He had a lot more to worry about than a little mark on his hand. And chicks loved scars. Once this one stopped hurting like a bitch he could figure out a cool cover story to go along with it. It’d be tricky, what with the odd shape and all, but he could do it. He had practice.

He shifted his weight against the wooden railing, his jeans scraping against the edge of the wood. He’d never worn jeans so much in his life, and he was looking to wear out the few pairs he did have. He’d attempted to wear shorts last week and had scratched his legs up to hell, and then had gotten screamed at for getting blood on the hay. He wasn’t too keen to repeat the experience. 

Something was telling him that the Turner’s wouldn’t be picking him up new clothes anytime soon, so he’d have to be a little more careful with his current ones. They were already grass-stained and dirt-smudged, and he tried to smooth over the tiny rips it was tearing into his heart. They shouldn’t have made him that upset, they were just denim, but it felt wrong to see one of the only things he had ruined by this place. 

The cigarette was smoldering close to his fingers so he dropped it, grinding it into the ground with the toe of his shoe. He kicked a pile of dirt over it, hiding the stub from the casual onlooker. There was a scattering of similar graveyards across the Turner’s backyard, and each new burial made him feel like he was walking through the ghosts of his old life. Or some other poetic shit like that. 

The rake laying at his feet seemed to taunt him with his unfinished chores. He’d managed to rake the leaves off of about half the yard so far, and the ache in his shoulders was protesting the subsequent half. He hated raking leaves with a passion, and the thought of having to spend his evening pulling dead leaves into a pile made him want to throw himself off the barn roof. Headfirst.

Except then he’d probably get buried in some back-woods grave, still in his sweaty t-shirt and ragged jeans. Not even an open-casket funeral so the world could take one last look at his beautiful face. Hell, knowing the Turner’s they’d just throw him straight into the ground without a casket to accompany him. Waste not thy money on your farmhands. 

There was a distant sound of gravel and Billy grimaced. His time was up and the prison wardens had returned. He pushed himself off the porch and grabbed the rake, storming over towards the unfinished yard. No time for rest in this hellhole, that was for sure.

Chapter Text

Billy was never visiting another farm ever again. He wasn’t going to sit in another stupid barn, and he wasn’t going to touch another goddamn cow. Hell, he wasn’t even going to touch a fucking rake or pitchfork another day in his life. He was done.

The Turner’s were visiting one of the neighboring farms, which meant Billy was in one of those rare moments where he was completely alone. Billy had no idea why, but he did know that he needed to finish his chores before they came back.

Billy yanked the husk off another ear of corn, shaking his hand to try and knock off the silky fibers clinging to his fingers. He tossed it into the slowly growing pile in front of him and rolled his shoulder back, grabbing another ear from the box next to him. The hay bale he was perched on didn’t exactly have the greatest back support, and he knew he was going to be sore the next day.

He flexed his hand to try and get rid of the cramping and started on the next husk. There were calluses on his hand, calluses that weren’t there before he came to the Turner’s, and they made things feel detached when he touched them. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, smearing dirt across his forehead.  

He let the ear fall into the pile and glanced back over at the house, freezing when he saw a figure walking towards him. It was too big to be Mrs. Turner, but too tall to be Mr. Turner. The gait was strikingly familiar and Billy realized with a sinking feeling that it was Chief Hopper. 

He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or angry. If Hopper was here that meant he knew where Billy had been. He knew that Billy was here, and he hadn’t given a shit. It meant that Billy was right about being alone. 

But it also meant a hope of getting out of here. His Dad should be getting out of this legal snag soon anyway, and with any luck Hopper would have a date for his return. A week more? Maybe two? He wasn’t looking forward to the reunion, but he wanted his own bed. He wanted his car and his records and his clothes. He wanted a fear he was familiar with. 

The thought of what news Hopper was bringing sent whirls of anxious horror through his gut. The way he saw it there were two options. Either Neil got done with the court proceedings and Billy was going home, or Neil had decided he was done and Billy was stuck at the Turner’s until he turned 18. 

Hopper was walking fast, and Billy wasn’t sure he wanted the distance to close. Billy pushed himself off the hay bale, making sure to set his feet. If you weren’t planted when someone came at you, you just ended up on your ass. The anger he originally felt towards the Chief had faded and left an aching emptiness in its place. He couldn’t blame the man for leaving him here, not really. He could count on three fingers the number of people who would let him stay in their house, and based on what Hopper was about to say that number might drop. 

There was a look on Hopper’s face that Billy had never seen before, and he was practically jogging towards him. Billy could feel his heart trying to jump out of his chest.

“Billy,” Hopper breathed as he reached Billy. “Oh my God.” And Billy could only slightly flinch before he was pulled into a hug, Hopper crushing him against his chest like he was afraid Billy was going to disappear. “Jesus fucking Christ, kid. I was so worried.” 

There was a hand cradling the back of Billy’s head and an arm around his back and Billy didn’t know whether he wanted to break down crying or run away. 

“Hop?” Billy asked, his forehead pressed against Hopper’s shoulder. It was a stupid question to ask, a little echo of the doubts crowding his mind, a spoken fear of this all being a cruel trick his mind had dreamt up. 

Hopper pulled back to look at Billy, a dark flash running through his eyes at the sight of the stray bruises dotting Billy’s jaw line. “Who did this?”

Billy couldn’t think right. Hopper had left him here. He had promised to meet him at the hospital and then never showed up. Not when Ms. Reeves showed up and not when he was dropped off at this farm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

And now he was hugging Billy like he had been worried? Acting like he gave a shit about what Billy had been up to? It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. And if he was trying to be nice then it was just cruel. It was cruel. 

He opened his mouth to say just that but there was no air to push the words out. He closed it and glanced away, trying to breathe normally. Hop was just looking at him, just standing in front of him and waiting for an answer that Billy didn’t have. He didn’t want to stand here and fall apart just to go back to his dad and try and put himself back together again.

“Billy,” Hopper said, his voice low and even. “Billy, look at me.”

That was the last thing Billy wanted to do. He clenched his jaw, staring at the acres of cropland that stretched behind the farmhouse. 

“Billy.”

Billy dragged his eyes over to meet Hopper’s trying to keep the pain from showing in his face. Hopper looked sad though, so Billy didn’t think he did a very good job.

“I’m so sorry,” Hopper said. “Billy, they lost your file. I dropped Max off at Joyce’s and then I went straight to the hospital, right after you. But the nurse wouldn’t tell me where you were, nobody could tell me where you were. I asked every goddamn person in that hospital and I couldn’t find a single thing.”

Billy didn’t know where the ground had gone. Hopper had gone to the hospital?

“And by the time I finally got in contact with someone who had a brain, that hack of a social services worker had already come through. And after she was through with all her illegal back-dealings, she filed your case wrong. Really goddamn wrong. They found it this morning, Billy. And then I came straight here.”

Billy wanted to cry. He wanted to break down right here in the pile of corn husks. He hadn’t been forgotten. Hopper hadn’t left him here on purpose. 

Billy dragged in a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair. “Where’s my dad?”

“Your dad’s at his house. The trial was a few days ago. He lost custody.”

The relief was gone in an instant, replaced with a cold-blooded fear. His dad wasn’t going to take him back. Billy had finally gone too far, gotten the police involved. He’d screwed his dad over and now his dad was screwing him over. 

But he couldn’t do this much longer. Couldn’t slave away on this farm under the threat of Mr. Turner’s strap and the judging eyes of Mrs. Turner. 

“I'm not staying here,” he said, taking a step backwards. “I’m not fucking staying here.” 

“Jesus Christ, Billy. No, God, no. You’re not staying here. I was granted temporary custody, Billy. I have custody, you’re coming home with me.”

That didn’t make sense. Billy shook his head, dragging in an unsteady breath. “That’s not—He wouldn’t do that. My dad wouldn’t just let you have custody. He doesn’t like me, but he hates you more.”

Hopper let out a small huff at that. “I’m the Chief of Police, kid. I don’t give a damn what your father wants.”

“So I’m not staying here?” Billy whispered, his voice cracking. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to stop his lips from shaking. 

“Yeah, kid. You’re coming back with me.”

Billy turned his face away from Hopper, trying to brush away the wetness from his eyes discreetly. Hopper reached out again and Billy didn’t try and push him away as he was pulled in for another hug. He tried to cry quietly but the solid pressure against the back of his neck made it hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged like this.

“You’re alright,” Hopper said softly. “Let it out.” 

“I’m not fucking crying,” Billy choked out, pulling back a little and bringing up his hand to wipe across his eyes. “It’s the fucking hay out here. Fucking hay pollen.”

“Yeah, that damn hay pollen. Seasonal is it?”

Billy gave a short laugh. “Seasonal my ass. It shows up i-”

“What happened to your hand?” Hopper interrupted, grabbing Billy’s hand and angling it towards him. “Is this a burn?”

“It’s nothing,” Billy said, trying to pull his hand away. “Seriously.”

“No it’s definitely something,” Hopper said, pulling Billy’s hand back. “Is that a cigar burn? Who gave this to you?”

“I never said anyone gave it to me.”

“You don’t get burns like these by accident, he did this, didn’t he? Did he do that to your face too?” Hopper reached up and grabbed Billy gently by the chin, angling his head sideways to get a better look at the bruises scattered across his face. “Did he do this?”

Billy bit down on the inside of his cheek and realized that it wasn’t worth fighting the point. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Goddamn son of a bitch,” Hopper said, glancing down again at Billy’s hand. “I’m so sorry kid.”

“It’s fine,” Billy muttered, succeeding in detangling his face from Hopper’s grip. “Let’s just leave, alright?”

“Alright, kid. We can go now. How about you grab your stuff while I leave them a note.”

“Can’t,” Billy said, kicking at the pile of corn. His foot glanced off the side, sending a few ears spinning onto the browning grass. “The door’s locked.”

Hopper raised an eyebrow. “Both of them?”

“Yep. And the window’s nailed shut, so that way doesn’t work either.”

“Give me a minute,” Hopper said, giving Billy’s shoulder a squeeze before striding towards the house. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets and watched as Hopper tried the doorknob with a firm shake, his hand almost dwarfing the rusty brass knob. The door remained firmly sealed shut, and Hopper turned to give Billy a shrug before lifting his foot and kicking the whole thing in. Well now Billy knew who had kicked his own door in. He’d hate to be on the receiving end of that.

“Get in here kid,” Hopper called as he disappeared into the house. “I don’t know where your things are.”

“It’s in the sad little room at the end of the hallway. When you feel the despair start to sink in, that’s when you’ve found it.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s fucking funny to me,” Billy huffed, flicking on the living room light.  “Can I steal their records?”

Hopper stepped out from the kitchen, a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. “What?”

“Their records,” Billy repeated, gesturing towards the box on the carpet. “I wasn’t allowed to touch them and I’m petty so I want them.”

Hopper’s eyes flicked down to Billy’s hand and then back up to his face. “What the hell. Take them all.”

Billy broke into a grin and shoved the box towards the hallway. “He’s going to blow a fuse.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not going to be here to see it. Do you need a bag for all your stuff?.”

“They already gave me a trash bag,” Billy said. “And I never unpacked.” 

Hopper frowned and gave a short nod. “Okay then. How about you go get that.”

Billy nodded in agreement and headed towards his room, scuffing the floor with his shoes as he walked. Not that scuff marks would make up for two weeks of hell, but he had to start somewhere. Maybe he could bribe Max’s nerd squad to come egg the place. If Max was even still talking to him after this whole incident. 

Gathering his things took less than 10 minutes. He’d never put a single thing in the dresser, and his cigarette stash was easy to fish out from underneath the bed. The liquor took a little longer to find, as it wasn’t easy to remember where he had hidden all the different bottles. He was scarily good at hiding things, and occasionally it came back to bite him in the ass. 

Though it had also saved his ass on numerous occasions, such as when Neil decided Billy’s room needed a drastic remodel and all the obvious hiding places were turned inside out and upside down. You can dump out a dresser but you can’t dump out the floorboards.

Unfortunately the Turner’s floorboards were nailed shut pretty firmly, meaning that Billy had to get a little creative. Tucked under a rafter, shoved in a hole in the mattress, and buried in an air vent. Billy should get an award for this type of shit.

“That better not be vodka in your hand.”

Billy turned and gave Hopper a shit-eating grin. “Jealous?”

Hopper raised an eyebrow and picked up Billy’s trash-bag. “How about concerned. Why is that in your bag of essentials?”

“This,” Billy said, giving the bottle in his hand a little shake. “Is essential. You expect me to survive in this hellhole without a little help?”

Hopper reached over and grabbed the bottle from Billy’s hand. “Yeah, how about we try and put the alcohol away for now. Please tell me this wasn’t full when you got here.”

“Hop,” Billy protested. “That’s mine. And what if it was? I’ve been here for like two weeks, that’s more than enough time to drink half a bottle.”

“I think you’ve had more than enough. Come on, let’s go. We have people waiting for us, and I’m sure you don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.”

“What?” Billy said, leaning out of the room to stare at Hopper as he walked out, the edge of the doorframe digging into his palm. “Who the hell would be waiting for us?”

“Your sister for one. She’s been wearing holes into the Byer’s carpets these last couple of weeks. Steve’s been asking after you too. Hell, everyone’s pretty pissed at me for taking so long to find you. I hope you’re hungry, Joyce made the best cookies you’ll ever have tasted.”

“She’s okay right?” Billy asked, stepping out fully into the hallway. “Ms. Reeves said she was, but I don’t know if she was just saying that to get me to shut up.”

“She’s okay,” Hopper said. “I promise. A little shaken up, but she’s fine.”

“He got her,” Billy continued, gesturing to his own cheek. “He got her pretty good. Her face is okay? Did anyone get her ice?”

“Joyce practically glued one to her. You can barely even see it now. She’s alright.”

“I told her to leave.” Billy rushed out, glancing up at Hopper with a guarded look. “As soon as she came out there. I tried to get her away from him. She wouldn’t fucking listen to me, and I wasn’t expecting him to be that close. I would never have let her go that far if I knew he was going to go after her. I swear.”

Hopper stilled, rubbing a hand over his jaw with a deliberate slowness. “Billy. What your dad did was his fault. Only his fault. No one blames you for anything that happened. The way I see it, you were the one that protected her from getting hurt. Not the other way around. And that took incredible bravery.”

“Hop, I was mouthing off. I was pushing him and I should have known it was too far.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Billy took a couple steps forward. “You weren’t there.”

“I didn’t have to be. I was there after. Not a single thing that happened was your fault. So just forget the whole crap about any of this being your responsibility. The only thing you’re responsible for is eating an unholy amount of cookies tonight. Okay?”

“That’s a load of fucking bullshit,” Billy said evenly.  

Hopper didn’t back down. “As the Chief of police and your legal guardian, I get the ultimate say-so on what’s bullshit. And I’m calling this one the truth. Alright? ”

“Glad to see my vote matters,” Billy said, grabbing his bags from where Hopper had set them down by the doorway. “Can we get out of this fucking house?”

“Go put your stuff in the car, I’ll be right there..”

Truth be told, Billy was more than ready to get out of the house. Waiting in the car didn’t bother him, he would gladly take warm leather seats and stale air over the oppressive silence of the Turner’s farm house. Even the sound of Hopper making his way through the house wasn’t enough to lift the weight that settled in Billy’s chest when he was in there. 

He opened the door and then stumbled backwards in surprise, trying to get as far away as he could from the anger radiating from Mr. Turner as he stormed up the porch steps. His car was parked haphazardly next to Hopper’s police car, and Mrs. Turner was situated in the passenger seat, still looking like she had swallowed a lemon. 

“What the devil are you doing in my house, boy?”

Billy glanced to the side, his gaze catching on the muddy footsteps he had tracked through the house. Mr. Turner followed his gaze and went an odd shade of purple. “You ungrateful child,” he hissed, lifting up a familiar hand and cracking it across Billy’s face. 

Billy sucked in a sharp breath and then Hopper was there, barreling out of the kitchen with an anger on his face Billy had never seen before. 

“You fucking bastard,” Hopper snapped, hauling his fist back and punching Mr. Turner in the face with a right hook that would make Mike Tyson proud. 

Mr. Turner let out a choked yelp, stumbling backwards out the door and onto the front porch. He pressed a hand to his nose and let out a string of words that would have gotten Billy skinned alive. 

Hopper stepped between Billy and Mr. Turner, leveling the man with a cold fury. “You have two minutes to get in your car and drive back down that road, or else I’m handcuffing you to a tree and throwing the key in the quarry. Your decision.”

Mr. Turner almost tripped in his haste to get down the steps and into the car, peeling out of the driveway with a dust cloud that could almost rival Billy’s.

“My hit list is a continuously growing thing,” Hopper muttered, gently turning Billy’s head to get  a better look at the welt forming beneath his eye. “I’m going to need you to tell me exactly where you’re hurt.”

“It was one hit,” Billy said, fidgeting under the scrutiny. “It’s just a little mark.”

“I’m talking about in general,” Hopper said, releasing Billy’s face. “I can see the bruises on your jaw, but I’m going to need to know if I have to take you to the hospital.”

“You don’t need to take me to the fucking hospital. They’re just bruises.”

“Okay,” Hopper said, giving Billy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Okay. How about you go wait in the car for me. I’ll be right out.”

Billy walked out of the front door and swallowed the lump in his throat that appeared when he climbed into Hopper’s car, the familiar worn seats punching home the realization that he was finally leaving this place. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of his seat, breathing in the smell of wood smoke and pine. It was a smell he associated with Hopper, with the damn jacket that was always getting shoved at him. 

A few minutes later Hopper was stomping down the front porch steps, the box of records in his hands. Billy laughed in disbelief at the sight. He never would have thought he’d see the day that the chief was endorsing a crime. Let alone a crime that benefited Billy Hargrove. Hopper deposited the records into the trunk of the car with a self-satisfied humph before sliding into the front seat next to Billy. “Ready?”

Billy couldn’t help the small smile that flickered onto his face. “Just drive already.” 

===================================================

Billy glanced over at Hopper in surprise when they pulled up the driveway to the Byer’s house, the worn-down porch sagging like an old friend. He’d driven here to pick up Max so many times he almost knew the cracked concrete as well as his own. “You were serious?”

“As a heart attack. If I don’t bring you in for food I won’t wake up tomorrow morning.” 

Billy looked down at his ragged jeans and then back up at Hopper. “I look homeless. You couldn’t even give me a day to get changed and sleep?”

“I guarantee you that Max does not care how homeless you look. C’mon, let’s go.”

Billy grimaced but followed Hopper up the walkway and steps. He would much rather skip the whole reunion shit, but it wasn’t like he really had a choice here. He guess he sort of owed Max some sort of apology after pulling her into the shit show that was him and Neil’s relationship. Play stupid games and win stupid prizes and all that, and he had signed himself up for the stupidest one when he pushed all the buttons on the Neil console. 

There was the sound of running footsteps, and the frantic unlocking of the deadbolt before the door was thrown open, revealing a wide-eyed Max. 

“Billy!”

The shriek was almost ear-splitting as Max launched herself out of the front door at Billy. He let out an umph as she barreled into his chest, almost knocking him backwards off of the porch. Her skinny little arms were wrapped around him like steel, and Billy didn’t think he could pry her off if he tried.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, giving her a strong squeeze in return. “You okay?”

“I missed you,” Max said, her face smashed into Billy’s shirt. “And of course I’m okay you idiot, are you okay? They wouldn’t let us see you, they wouldn’t tell us if you were okay.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Billy said, pulling her back to look at her face. “They feeding you here?”

“Are they feeding me ?” Max exclaimed, bringing her finger up to poke a bruise on Billy’s jawline. “What happened to your face?” She leaned around Billy to glare at the Chief. “Hopper, what happened to his face!?”

“Max, shut up,” Billy muttered, stepping sideways to block the Chief from her line of sight. “It’s nothing.”

“We were going to circle around to it later,” Hopper said, wrapping an arm around Billy’s shoulder and walking him towards the door with Max trailing behind. “Let’s not push the issue before we bribe him with cookies.”

“I sure hope you’re not expecting a goddamn heart-felt confession,” Billy said, allowing himself to be led into the Byer’s living room. “The only thing we need to talk about is when I get my car back.”

“I’ll get one of my officers to pick it up tomorrow.”

“You’re mental if you think I’m letting one of your grunts drive my car.”

Hopper’s reply was cut off as Joyce caught sight of them. Max ducked under Billy’s arm as Hopper went over to give Joyce a hug. 

“We have lots of cookies,” she said, leaning into Billy’s side. It was the most affectionate he’d ever seen her, and he was honestly just shocked she wasn’t pissed off at him. He’d probably traumatized her for life with the whole “getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by his dad” thing. 

“Yeah? What type?”

“Chocolate chips and sprinkles and the little sugar ones.” 

“All for me?” Billy asked, eyeing Joyce warily. “I don’t even like cookies, what the hell did you make so many for?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Max said. “I really missed you though. I don’t have anyone to drive me to the arcade.”

“Bitch,” Billy said, elbowing her in the side as Joyce came towards them with a wide smile and open arms. “Hi Ms. Byers.”

“Billy, honey,” she said, stopping in front of him and giving him a rub on the arm. Billy was glad she didn’t try to go in for the hug, he wasn’t sure he could handle that right now. “We’re really glad to see you.”

Billy couldn’t imagine anyone being glad to see him but he kept his mouth shut, offering her a weak smile in return. Max was pulling at his arm a second later, leading him into the Byer’s kitchen. Lots of cookies was an understatement. There were cookies on every available surface, dozens upon dozens of cookies spilling out of Tupperware.

“Ms. Byers stress bakes,” Max said, passing him a sugar cookie. “So please eat these because there’s no way the party is going to be able to.”

“I have no doubt your little nerd buddies will be able to finish these off,” Billy muttered around a mouthful of cookie. He raised an eyebrow of surprise. “Holy shit these are good.”

“She puts magic in them,” Max announced, taking a bite of one of her own. “Or drugs. I’m still deciding.”

“Definitely magic. Not even drugs taste this good.”

“Can I get you anything?” Joyce asked, appearing beside Billy like a ghost. “Water, soda, juice, fruit?”

Billy glanced at her. “What type of fruit?”

“Um, well, I have apples and oranges. And some grapes.”

“I wouldn’t mind an apple,” Billy said, rolling his eyes at Max’s incredulous stare. “What? I haven’t had a piece of fruit in like two weeks.”

“I think it’s good you’re being healthy,” Joyce said, giving Billy a smile. “Lord knows my boys need to eat more fruit. Is it okay if I cut it up for you?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Billy said, surprised at the question. He didn’t think he’d had cut up fruit since elementary school. And even then it had been his own uneven cutting. Maybe his mom had cut him up fruit once, but he couldn’t remember. 

“Billy, is it okay if we stay here for a little while longer?” Hopper appeared in the spot Joyce had vacated, half his attention following her into the kitchen. “I need to talk a few things over with Joyce, and I figure you can use the time to catch up with Max.”

Max had his hand in a death grip, and Billy didn’t think he could say no if he wanted to. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit then, kid. Don’t burn the house down, either of you.”

Billy gave him a lazy middle-finger salute, following Max out of the kitchen and towards the hallway. She pulled him to a room at the end of the hall, and he assumed that this was where she had been staying since Neil’s arrest. 

“This is your jail cell?” Billy asked, shouldering the door open. “It’s kind of nice.”

“It used to be their guest room, but I guess it’s mine now?” Max said, shooting Billy a hesitant look. “I’m not really sure how everything’s going to work out, they don’t tell me much.”

“Yeah, can’t really help you out there,” Billy said, settling onto the bed. “I’ve been in bumfuck nowhere for the last week. Though if I had to give a good guess, I’d say you’re staying here and I’m living with Hop.”

“For how long?”

Billy shrugged. “You’re probably staying here forever. They like you.”

Max frowned at him, her nose wrinkling. “What about you?”

“Eh, I’m sure Hopper will find a way to get me emancipated before the year’s over. And then I’ll figure it out from there.”

Max dropped down onto the bed next to Billy, the bed giving a loud groan of protest. “You want to be emancipated already? You’re not even done with high school.”

“It’s not really a fucking choice here, shitbird,” Billy said, flicking her upside the head. “I’m not exactly this town’s most wanted kid.”

“He wouldn’t just kick you out like that,” Max said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t let him.”

Billy laughed. It was still a little endearing, her never ending source of optimism. He was pretty sure Hopper would find a way to have him out on the streets sooner than later, he didn’t have much faith in his people skills. But he’d let Max think otherwise. 

“Thanks kid.”

Chapter Text

“El’s asleep,” Hopper said, gently pushing open the door to his cabin. “But she’s excited to see you, so be prepared to get ambushed in the morning.”

“What the hell is that?” Billy asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he stepped through the door. There was a curtain strung up in the living room, cutting it in half and separating part of it from view. 

“That’s our bedrooms,” Hopper said, a hint of pride in his look as he stared at the contraption. “I figured you’d like some privacy, so I strung up a little wall between my bed and yours.”

“My bed?” Billy echoed, staring at the curtains. “Like, behind that?”

“We can change the sheets if you want,” Hopper said, sweeping back the curtain to reveal a twin bed with dark blue sheets. “I thought it was a basic enough color.”

“No, uh, blue’s fine,” Billy said with a slight laugh. “Fucking hell Hopper, I’m not going to care about the color of the goddamn bedsheets.”

Hopper shrugged, letting the curtain fall back closed. “I didn’t think you would, but the offer still stands. Same with anything else you need. Do you want to talk about anything before we go to bed? Or do you want to wait until the morning?”

“I ain’t talking about shit,” Billy said, sliding his trash bag underneath the curtain door. “So I guess I’ll just go to sleep now.”

Hopper sighed. “We are talking in the morning, you’re not getting out of that one. But sure kid, we can go ahead and sleep now.”

“Fuck you,” Billy sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What time do I have to get up?”

The ends of Hopper’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “Did you want me to wake you up at a certain time?”

“No, like, what time do you need me up?”

“I don’t,” Hopper said, his smile fading. “You should try to sleep in as much as you can. I can imagine it’s been a hell of a long day.”

“Oh,” Billy said, pulling his hand out of his pocket to scratch his nose. “Okay then. If you’re fine with it. Or whatever.”

Billy stifled a flinch as Hopper settled a hand on the back of Billy’s neck, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, see you in the morning, kid.”

Billy awoke to stifled giggles and the smell of waffles. The blankets were wrapped around his legs like a snake, his pillow laying half off the bed. He couldn’t tell what time it was, and he felt disoriented, like someone had turned him upside down and shaken him. 

It took him a moment to recognize where he was, there was the sound of people in the morning, a distinctly unfamiliar sound. He stumbled up and off of the bed, almost falling through the curtain when he lost his balance. His shirt was clinging to him, and he wondered what he had dreamed about to wake up this lost. 

“You up kid?” Hopper called from what Billy assumed was the kitchen. “We have food.”

“Fuck off,” Billy called back, before realizing that El was in the room too. He yanked open the curtain, staring at them with wide eyes. “Shit—Sorry, Hop. It just kind of slipped out, I didn’t mean to. Sorry El, forget I said anything.”

El giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. “Fuck.”

Billy felt his heart drop down into his feet. This had to be the record for fastest time to get kicked out of a new house. Hopper looked at El and then back at Billy and Billy took a step backwards. “I’m sorry, Hop. Seriously, I didn’t mean it.”

There was a moment of tension, Billy holding his breath as Hopper looked at him for what seemed like ages. And then Hopper just sighed, looking back over at El with a tired fondness. “We’re not saying that word, El. Not a nice one. So let’s keep it inside our heads.”

El seemed to mull the thought over in her mind before nodding her assent. “Okay. Inside.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” Hopper said, giving her hair a ruffle. “How about you finish setting the table?”

El flounced off to grab more silverware and Hopper looked back at Billy, his gaze softening when he took in the stiff rigidity of Billy’s shoulders. “You’re good kid, I’m not mad. Just try and keep it in your head next time, alright?”

“I’m not usually this bad of an influence,” Billy said weakly, the fact that Hopper wasn’t angry at him leaving him dizzy. 

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told,” Hopper said, still looking at Billy like he was breakable. “Come on and sit down. We’re eating.”

Billy forced out a breath and moved with what felt like a herculean effort, his feet like lead. Every instinct in his body was telling him to get as far away from Hopper as possible, stay out of striking range. He shoved his instincts into a tiny box in the back of his mind and sat down at the table, pressing his feet firmly into the ground to stop them from shaking. 

“Are those eggs?”

“And waffles and bacon,” El announced, staggering over to the table with a plate as big as her head. “Can I have seven?”

“Seven is a lot of waffles,” Hopper said, helping her lower it to the table. “Let’s start with one. Billy, how many do you want?”

“One?”

“For the pint-sized one, yeah, we’ll give her one. Except you’re the athlete here, so you’re going to need a little more than that.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Ok fine, how about two.”

Hopper piled four waffles onto Billy’s plate, ignoring Billy’s hand wave of protest. “Shut up and eat the waffles Billy.”

“You shut up,” Billy muttered under his breath, stabbing a waffle with his fork. They weren’t homemade waffles, but hell if they didn’t taste like they came from a 5 star gourmet-fucking-restaurant.   

El narrowed her eyes at Billy’s substantially larger stack of waffles but settled for staring holes in the back of Hopper’s head instead of making a fuss about it. Hopper was oblivious to the venom-filled eyes trained on him, peacefully washing dishes like the world was fine and dandy. Billy felt like he was in some freaky alternate dimension. 

“What happened to your face?”

Billy paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, staring at El in shock. “What?”

“Your face. It’s hurt.”

Billy opened his mouth and then closed it, completely lost as to what he should say. “Uh. Yes?”

“Bad man?”

Billy cleared his throat awkwardly and Hopper turned from the sink to take pity on him, jumping into the conversation to steer it to a less touchy subject. “Something along those lines kiddo. Billy probably wants to eat in peace though, so focus more on those waffles.”

“When can I get my fuc-I mean freaking car,” Billy blurted out, desperate to change something about the weird atmosphere he had found himself in. “It’s been weeks”

“Is my driving not good enough for you?” Hopper asked, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. “You get to sit shotgun and everything.”

“I’m not sitting shotgun for a single day longer; let me go get my stupid car.”

“Can I go?” El piped up, her eyes brightening. “I want to sit shotgun!”

“You’re not going anywhere until you finish your chores,” Hopper said, sitting down at the table next to Billy. “Especially the ones you didn’t finish yesterday.”

“You suck,” El huffed, taking another bite of her waffle.

“Amen to that,” Billy echoed, raising his fork as a toast. 

Hopper sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Way to team up on a guy. Finish your waffles and we’ll go get your car.”

“I knew I let you take me away from those Turners for a reason.”

“Yeah, like it was optional.”

Billy shoved the rest of his waffle into his mouth and stood up. “Can we go now?” he mumbled. “I’m done.”

Hopper stared longingly at his waffle for a moment before standing up. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Billy choked mid-swallow, glancing between Hopper and El. “That was directed at her right?”

“Nope,” Hopper said, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter. “Waiting for you now.” He gave a little wave as he walked out, his footsteps on the stairs sounding through the closed door. 

“Fucking hell,” Billy said, running his hand through his hair with a frantic yank. “El, don’t you dare repeat any of those words.”

They’re two minutes into the drive to the station when Billy realizes that being alone in the car with Hopper might not be the most desirable scenario at the present moment. Hopper had probably been waiting for an opportunity to ambush him for the goddamn talk he wanted to have. 

It was all too similar to the waiting game Neil liked to play sometimes, letting the pressure hang over Billy until it felt like something was going to give. Those times were always the worst, because Billy knew, he knew, that Neil never let anything slide. Not for anyone and especially not for Billy. Silence just meant he wanted Billy to really feel the law he was about to lay down. Righteous justice for Billy’s sins. 

“So,” Hopper started, and Billy almost jumped at the sound of it. “I know you’re not really the talking type, but we have to talk about some of it.”

“Bullshit,” Billy said, the car feeling too small. Hopper frowned but Billy didn’t have anything left to lose here. “You already know everything, you just want me to say it out loud so you can feel good about yourself.”

That was a lie, and it even tasted false, but he felt trapped. Everything felt too close, too fast. If he thought about the fact that he was living with the Chief of police his head would start to spin. And he was 90% sure that it wasn’t the concussion he probably had. 

There was a pause, and Hopper eyed him with a searching look. “You know, that’s kind of how my job works. Without the “making me feel good” part. I can’t just go in and arrest people because I know what happened. I need people to tell me what happened.”

“Who the fuck would you even arrest? My dad lost his goddamn custody.”

The little wrinkle reappeared between Hopper’s eyebrows. “Who would I—The Turners?”

“The Turners?”

“Yes, the goddamn Turners!” Hopper said, glancing from the road back to Billy with obvious confusion. 

“Why would I need to arrest the Turners? I don’t even fucking live with them anymore!”

Hopper pulled into a shaded parking spot and quickly put the car into park, tossing his hat onto the dashboard and turning to look at Billy. “Kid, did he or did he not put a cigarette out on your hand? And you’re going to tell me that the bruises on your face just magically appeared when you were sleeping?”

Billy scowled and dug his heel into the floor mat. “I didn’t say they didn’t. I’m just saying there’s no point.”

“They deserve to face repercussions for their actions. That’s the point.”

“Hop, I can tell you right now that nobody in this town is going to care about the Turners, fucking, repercussions or whatever, because they knocked me around a little bit. Hell, they’ll all probably line up to congratulate them.”

Hopper let out a sad half sigh. “Shit, kid. I care.”

Billy gave him a wry smile. “Not sure why the hell you do.”

“Because you’re a good kid, Billy. And life dealt you a shit hand.”

Billy blinked at Hopper. That was bullshit right there. He was the farthest thing from a good kid. “Can I get my car now?”

“No you may not, we’re still having a conversation.”

“You sure? Because that just sounded like the end of the conversation.”

“School,” Hopper started and Billy let out a low groan of annoyance. “It’s almost over so I’m not making you go back this year. Unless you want to.”

“Fuck no.”

“Alright. We also need to swing by your old place to grab your things. Are you up for that? I can go pick them up for you if you’d rather not go back.”

Billy closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. “I’m fine with going back to my place.”

“I’m also going to need you to tell me what happened at the Turners.”

“Fuck that.”

“Billy, I’m serious. We don’t have to do it right now, but we are going to have to. I’m not letting them have another foster placement, and I’m going to need a little more than my anger.”

The last sentence took the wind right out of Billy’s sails. I’m not letting them have another foster placement. That was the kicker, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about Billy getting hurt, it was about some other kid getting hurt. Some poor kid who didn’t deserve the Turners’ barn or the cigars or the locks on the bedroom door. And if Billy let that happen, then he was a real piece of shit.

“Fucking hell,” Billy muttered, pinching his arm to push down the fear rising in his chest. He hated talking about his goddamn feelings. “Fine. What am I even supposed to say?”

Hopper frowns and rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “Did they feed you?”

Billy shrugged, trying to keep his voice even. “Yeah, well enough. Missed dinner every once in a while but it wasn’t everyday.”

“You were shucking corn when I came to get you, did you have responsibilities around the farm?”

Billy laughed. “That’s an understatement. All I did was farmwork.”

“Like what?”

“Moving hay, mowing the lawn,” Billy started, ticking them off on his fingers as he went. “Shucking the corn, mucking out the stalls, fixing the fence, feeding the stupid pigs, feeding all the stupid animals, weeding the garden, painting the goddamn fence, doing whatever the hell they wanted me to do.”

“Jeez, kid.” Hopper said. “You knew how to do all that?”

“Hell no,” Billy said. “I just figured it out along the way.”

“Did he ever get mad at you?” Hopper asked, his eyes searching Billy’s face.

“I don’t think there was a time the old fuck wasn’t mad at me.”

“What did he do when he was mad?” Hopper’s voice was soft, softer than Billy had ever heard it, and he wanted to snap at him to stop treating him like he was fragile.

“Depends on how mad he was,” Billy said, fully aware he was being evasive.

“What if he was really mad?”

"Got whipped."

"Bastard," Hopper muttered, rubbing a hand over his chin.

“How bored are you?” Billy said, turning his head lazily to the side to look out the window. “To spend this much time on me.”

“This isn't boredom. I’m doing this because I want to.”

“Whatever you say, Chief,” Billy said, watching a bird do figure eights in the sky above them. 

“Well, I’m proud of you.”

Billy jerked his head away from the window to stare at Hopper in disbelief. “What?”

“I’m proud of you,” Hopper repeated, not breaking eye contact.

“For what?” Billy asked. “Getting the shit kicked out of me twice in a row? By two different people?”

“No, for getting through it all. You shouldn’t have gone through any of it, but you did, and I am so proud of you.”

Billy tried to give him a deflective smile but it wavered and fell off his face. He could feel the tears pushing at the back of his eyes, and he looked out the window to will them back. Fuck this crying shit. 

Hopper put his hand on Billy’s shoulder, lifting it when Billy flinched. “Do you have your keys?”

“Fuck you,” Billy said, taking a deep breath. “I never took them out of my pocket.”

“Glad to hear you’ve still got a way with words,” Hopper said drily, grabbing his hat off the dashboard.

Billy shrugged and pushed the car door open. “The Turners wouldn’t let me, so these have been waiting to get out for a real fucking long time.”

“As long as El doesn’t start parroting you,” Hopper warned, pointing at Billy with his hat. “I mean that.”

Billy saluted him with his middle finger. “Aye aye captain.”

It was hesitant, but eventually Billy fell into a routine at the cabin, trying his best to remain invisible but still helpful. He left as soon as breakfast was over, occupying his time by driving around town. He was bored, but at least he wasn’t in the way. He didn’t have any money for lunch, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Hopper for food three times a day, so he managed. 

Meanwhile, Hopper kept giving him odd glances every now and then like he was bothered by something but didn’t know what it was. Billy knew what it was. It was the same thing that had bothered his dad and the Turners. He didn’t know how long he had until Hopper came to the realization that there was something in Billy that needed to be beaten out, but he was going to enjoy the small calm before the storm while it lasted. 

He made sure to take time out of his day to drive Max from school to the Byer’s, maybe because he felt bad about everything that had gone down. He wasn’t angry at her anymore. Not like he used to be. The fear in her eyes when Neil had gone after them had blown away any hostility, a renewed sense of protectiveness rushing in to take its place. No, that anger was reserved for himself. For letting himself fall into this position, for breaking up Max’s family because he didn’t know when to shut up and take it. 

He wasn’t going to school, so Billy didn’t have to worry about seeing Steve. He was in cahoots with the brat pack, so he probably knew everything by now. Billy was too tired to face that. The pity and the staring and the half-hearted apologies that meant jack-shit. He didn’t want to be looked at like some goddamn circus animal, and he didn’t want to feel obligated to explain the bruises and the absences. So he avoided Steve, stifling the small part of him that felt bad. 

He slowly worked his way through his liquor stash, moving them from his still unpacked garbage bag to his car. He didn’t sit at the quarry anymore, didn’t want to risk Hopper finding him there, so he had to find some new stomping grounds, one where the only company would be some peace and quiet. The random field he found didn’t have a name, and he didn’t bother to give it one, so he just started referring to it as The Field. When he felt like going 90 over the quarry edge he settled for blackout drunk at The Field. Compromises. 

The whole damn thing felt unsteady, but there wasn’t anything Billy could do about it. He didn’t know which night at the cabin would be his last, and he didn’t know when the last gentle touch from Hopper would turn into a harsh one. He just had to wait until the foot came down, and hope it didn’t come down too hard. 

Chapter Text

Billy watched as the cigarette stub dangling from his fingers slowly smoldered away, the heat licking at his fingers with a quiet intensity that sung of pain. He should probably have let go a few seconds ago, but he wanted to see how close it could get before he let go. He wanted to see how much he could take. 

The tips of his fingers were getting dangerously hot, but Billy wasn’t sure he could let go if he wanted to. A pink tinge started to sear it’s way across his fingertips, the pain beginning to white out any other thoughts in his mind. A few more seconds and his fingers would start to blister.

“Billy.”

Billy startled and dropped his stub, watching as the embers were extinguished by Hopper’s work boots. Hopper ground it in the dirt for good measure before settling onto the porch steps next to Billy. He took one of Billy’s hands, ignoring the half-flinch, and frowned at the red painting his fingertips. “Let’s not do that anymore, alright kid?”

“I wasn’t fucking doing anything,” Billy said, yanking his hand out of Hopper’s grasp. “I was just getting a smoke.”

Hopper rubbed the side of his jaw. “Well then make sure you’re paying better attention. Or you’ll only be able to smoke when I’m supervising you.”

“Fuck you,” Billy muttered, staring at the crushed stub on the ground.

“Glad to hear it,” Hopper said, clasping Billy’s shoulder and using it to stand back up. “I’m heading into work, I probably won’t be home until after lunch. Find something in the pantry for lunch, alright? And would you mind making extra for El?”

Billy nodded. “Don’t worry, I can feed the both of us.”

“I appreciate the help,” Hopper said. “I owe you one.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Just go to work already.”

Billy watched as Hopper’s car slowly faded from view, the sound of the car engine getting quieter until the only things he could hear was the birds and the TV show that El was watching inside. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the porch railing. He was wearing one of Hopper’s flannel shirts, the large sleeves almost swallowing his arms whole. He wasn’t sure when it had ended up in his closet, but every time he left it on Hopper’s bed it ended up back in his trash bag. Hopper would periodically ask Billy if he wanted to go get a dresser, but Billy always refused. There was no need to spend money on something that wasn’t going to be used for long. 

“Billy?”

Billy cracked an eye open to see El’s face above his, her hair dangling into her face as she leaned over the railing. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t you just have waffles?”

El let out a frustrated sigh, her nose scrunching up in irritation. “No.  That was a long time ago. In the morning. It’s lunch time.”

“Is it?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The clock says twelve, zero, nine.” El stated firmly, glaring at Billy. 

Billy closed his eyes again, shifting so the rails on the porch didn’t dig into his spine. “What do you want to eat?”

“Spaghetti,” El said, saying the word slowly, like she was making sure to pronounce it right. “Please.”

“Alright,” Billy sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll make you some spaghetti. Go finish your show or whatever you were watching.” 

El beamed at him before skipping back into the house, settling herself down on a pillow in front of the TV. Billy shuffled into the kitchen and opened the pantry door, searching for pasta to cook. There was a full box of lasagna noodles and half a box of spaghetti noodles, which was perfect for the two of them. And probably leftovers for tomorrow.

“Do you want carrots or green beans?” Billy asked, picking up one of the cans. It was the same brand that Susan bought and he placed it back down quickly, giving it a little shove backwards. 

“I want noodles,” El protested.

“Relax, you’re still getting noodles. You have to eat a vegetable too though, so hurry up and pick one.”

“Green beans,” El said, and Billy gave a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to use the other can. The less he had to think about Susan’s god awful canned goods collection the better. 

Spaghetti was one of the easier foods to make, and Billy had water boiling in no time, the sauce heating up in a small pot beside it. It was an easy task, boiling pasta, and Billy wandered over to the bookshelf by the front door, flicking through some of the newer novels. Hopper would bring back books from town on occasion, and Billy could tell that he wanted people to read them. 

And Billy liked books, he really did, he just couldn’t get himself to sit down and focus lately. Everything felt on edge and jumpy, and sitting still for long periods of time almost felt impossible. Nonetheless he took Treasure Island out of it’s spot on the shelf, placing it on top of the bookshelf to grab later. He might as well try with all the extra time had. 

He turned to check on the water he was trying to boil and let out a shout of horror. El was on her tippy toes by the stove, tilting the pot of boiling water towards her to get a better look. She startled at the noise he made and let go of the pot, eyes widening as it toppled over. She jumped backwards, but not before water splashed onto the ground and up onto her legs with a noise that sent shards of ice into Billy’s heart. 

She sucked in a sharp breath, the same one Billy made when he was trying not to cry, and he was on the move, grabbing her by the shoulders to whisk her away from the hot water on the ground. He grabbed the pot by its base, pushing it upright and away from the edge as it seared his palms. He grabbed a dish towel and threw it over the water before turning the stove of with a frantic urgency. 

He turned back to El and led her to the dining room table, his mind fuzzy with panic and pain. She wasn’t crying, but Billy could see the tears in her eyes. Hopper was going to kill him. This was when Billy screwed everything up.

He situated El onto one of the chairs, dashing quickly into the bathroom to pull out the first-aid kit from under the seat. He dropped back down in front of El, breathless from his sprint across the house. He could see the red on her legs from where the water had touched the skin, and the fear that surged in his chest was enough to make him dizzy. They weren’t terrible, and Billy didn’t think they would leave any marks once they healed, but he knew that wouldn’t matter once Hopper saw what he had done. 

He opened the first-aid kit with a muttered curse, hoping El didn’t pick up on his choice of language. He stared at the assortment of supplies with a sinking despair, painfully aware that he had no idea how to treat burns. Cuts, bruises, scrapes, broken or cracked bones, dislocations, and concussions he could do in his sleep. But this? He had no idea how to do this, the circle shaped scar on the back of his hand a visible reminder of that fact.

He grabbed the tube of the ointment, slathering a thin layer onto El’s burns. Ointment couldn’t hurt anything, right? It had to be better than nothing. And he was praying on anything right now. 

“How bad does it hurt?” Billy asked, glancing up at El. “Do you want me to get you something?”

El shook her head, lifting her leg to stare at the now greasy skin. “It’s okay.”

It was not okay. Nothing was going to be okay after Hopper got home and saw what the delinquent he took in had done to his daughter. Billy would be lucky if he was alive when Hopper threw him out the door. The panic threatened to climb up his throat and choke him, and Billy dragged in a shaky breath, trying to shove it back down. 

There was a twisted sense of deja vu, a reminder of having done this dance before back in Cali, when his dad had first started dating Susan. He’d sent Billy and Max out on the boardwalk together, instructing Billy to keep her occupied for an hour or so, enough time for Neil and Susan to have some time alone. And he’d tried to do that, he really had. He brought his skateboard and taught her how to get on and off, and how to move forward without falling off. 

Except he never got to finish the last lesson before she pushed too hard and the skateboard went flying out from under her, spilling her forwards onto the rough boardwalk floor. She’d scraped up both knees and one of her hands, and the tears were quick to follow. And when Billy showed up half an hour early with a sobbing Max, she demanded all the attention from Susan. The way Neil saw it, Billy had ruined his afternoon plans and embarrassed him in front of the woman he was seeing. And Neil was always mad at Billy, but this was the first time he had been furious.   

He’d whipped Billy raw that afternoon, leaving him with angry welts that stretched from his shoulders to his knees. His dad had drilled words like responsibility, maturity, and shame into his mind, but all Billy could remember was how much he was hurting. He could still remember the feeling of his teeth against his arm, biting down in a last-ditch effort to quiet his sobs. It was before he had learned to take it in silence. 

Looking at the marks on El’s legs was like looking at Max’s scraped knees. He didn’t rank above Hopper’s real kid, wasn’t delusional enough to even hope, and the breathing he had worked so hard to get under control was threatining to derail again. He knew what happened when he ruined things. 

“I’m sorry for spilling your water,” El said, looking genuinely remorseful. 

“Nah, it’s not your fault,” Billy said, giving her a small, shaky smile. He didn’t need to scare her with his own panic. “I should have been watching it. How about a sandwich, okay?”

El nodded. “Can I watch TV?”

“Yeah, okay, sure. That’s fine. I’ll let you know when your sandwich is ready.”

El nodded and slid down from off the table, her hair bouncing behind her. She didn’t seem terribly upset by her new injuries, but that didn’t mean anything. Hopper was protective, he’d proven that much, and El’s nonchalance wouldn’t temper Hopper’s rage when he saw what happened. No, the only thing that would temper Hopper’s rage would be the same thing that tempered his dad’s and Mr. Turners. And that was Billy with some goddamn respect and remorse beaten into him. 

Except this was one of those times that he already felt guilt and remorse. The thought of El in pain made him feel awful, and he knew that this whole ordeal was his fault to begin with. He couldn’t even handle the one responsibility that Hopper had asked of him. Neil’s words cycled around his head. Respect and responsibility . Billy had always likened those lessons to beating a dead horse, but he was beginning to think Neil had been justified. 

He slathered peanut butter onto a slice of bread and tried to shove his thoughts into a little box so he wouldn’t have to hear them anymore. Feeding El was more important than his idiotic mental ramblings. He added jelly to the second half and then cut it into triangles, wincing at how the handle dug into the angry burns on his palms. 

El accepted the offering with a solemn nod and Billy put his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. He sat down on the couch to try and watch El’s cartoons, but his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. He glanced over at his bedroom, and realized that he needed to pack his things.

Not that he had much to pack, he hadn’t put his clothes anywhere other than the bag they had arrived in, but the belongings scattered across the floor needed to be picked up, and he should really fold the sheets from the bed. He needed to throw away the extra toothbrush that had joined the previous pair, and his backpack needed to be moved from the living room back to the trunk of his car.

He would have gotten up to start, but El was leaning on his leg and he didn’t want to bother her. Not when she seemed more engrossed by the cartoon than the burns on her leg. He didn’t think about how the pain in his hands and the pressure of her shoulder reminded him of the night with an angry Neil and a crying Max. 

A glance to the clock on the wall told him only an hour had gone by. And that was an hour closer to the sound of wheels on the gravel driveway. An hour closer to the slam of the front door and the anger that would be coming at him full force.

“Billy?”

Billy jerked his head down to look at El. “Yeah?”

“You’re hurt,” she stated plainly, pointing to his hands. 

“Oh,” Billy said dumbly, shoving his hands between his knees. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s like mine,” El said, lifting up her leg and pointing to her burns. “Why does mine hurt?”

And if that wasn’t a slap in the face. The truth was, his hands hurt like hell. Which meant that El’s legs probably hurt like hell. Even if they were only a light pink compared to the blistering red on his own hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Billy said weakly. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to make it better. And he didn’t see how admitting his hands hurt would fix anything. He couldn’t fix shit.

“Do you want an aspirin?” Billy asked, throwing the question out like a life-saver. “I can try and find you one.”

El shook her head and let her leg fall back down to the ground. “It’s not that hurt. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Billy said, leaning against the back of the couch. “Just like, pinch me or something if you need one.”

Billy was up and off the couch the moment he heard Hopper’s car rumble up the driveway, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. He had moved his stuff to his car an hour ago, and the sheets would be out of the dryer in about 15 minutes. If he had forgotten any of his things then it probably wasn’t anything he really needed anyway.

El glanced up at the momentary distraction but resumed staring at the TV when Billy didn’t say anything. Billy took a step towards the door and then back towards his room, unsure of where he should go. He heard keys in the lock and in a split-second decided he wanted to get it all over with at the start. Neil was always more pissed off when he had to go find Billy. 

“Hey, kiddos,” Hopper said pulling his hat off as he walked through the front door. “I swung by Joyce’s place and she gave us casserole, so we can skip our daily dinner brainstorming.” He set the bag in his hands on the counter and looked over at El and Billy, freezing at the pale look on Billy’s face. 

“Hi Dad,” El said, clambering up and off the floor to greet Hopper. “Catch any bad guys?”

“Absolutely. I got all the bad guys.” He paused, his eyes widening as he caught sight of her legs.  “What happened to your legs?”

“Spaghetti,” El declared. “But only water.”

Hopper looked over at Billy, his eyebrow raising. “Billy, you want to tell me what happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Billy said, letting his mind fall back into the predictable patterns he knew so well. If you wanted to get out of something with minimal damage you apologized and shut up, keeping your head down so you wouldn’t get punched in the nose. “It’s my fault.”

“What does that mean?” Hopper said slowly, glancing down at El’s legs and then back up at Billy. He took a step closer. “How is it your fault?”

“It’s my fault,” Billy repeated. He didn’t want to sound like he was making excuses. “I wasn’t watching her like you asked.”

"Billy, what happened?"

"I didn't watch the pot, it fell over and I should have been more careful, but I didn't and El was right there so she got burned."

Hopper raised an eyebrow and gave Billy an odd look. “Okay, kid. I think we need to talk. How about you go and wait in your room for me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dad?” El asked, pulling at Hopper’s shirtsleeve. “Can you cut me some strawberries?”

Hopper gave her hair a distracted ruffle. “Yeah, sweetie, go on and grab a plate for me.”

Billy was already behind his curtain when Hopper followed El into the kitchen, sitting rigidly on the edge of his bed. He was in for it now, he knew he was, but he had no way to gauge just how bad. He didn’t know what he was expected to do.

Hopper wasn’t long and Billy’s curtain wall was soon pushed aside as Hopper walked in. He slowed as he took in the newfound bareness of the room. “Billy, where are your sheets?”

“I didn’t steal them,” Billy said in indignation. “They’re in the wash.”

“Why would I think you stole it?”

Billy just shrugged. He was trying to avoid pissing him off even more.

Hopper frowned, his eyes taking in Billy’s stance. “Kid. I want to make something real clear here. I hope you already know this, but I am never going to lay a hand on you, alright?”

Billy felt a heaviness settle over his shoulders. He should probably be glad that he wasn’t getting knocked around, but at least a fist meant a second chance. It was a way to show Billy he needed to get his act together, to let him know that when he did it again he’d sorely regret it. If Hopper didn’t hit him that meant he was kicking Billy out. And sure, he had packed his stuff, he hadn’t been completely caught off guard, but a big part of him had been hoping Hopper would have still let him stay. 

“Yes, Sir.”

 An odd look settled over Hopper’s face. “Are you alright? Did any of the water get you too?”

Billy shook his head. “No, Sir.”

“Let me see your hands.”

Billy reluctantly lifted his hands palm up, trying his best not to stretch the burns spanning his palms and fingers. 

“Damn it,” Hopper swore, angling Billy’s hand towards the light. “I hoped we were done slapping bandages on you.”

“It’s fine,” Billy muttered, pulling his hand back. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

Hopper took a couple steps forward and lowered himself onto the bed beside Billy, wincing at the creaking of his knees.  “You sleep much last night, kid?”

Billy stiffened, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He hadn’t. He’d woken up gasping for breath just like he’d had the rest of the week. And by the time the cold sweat on his skin had dried, he was usually too wired to try and fall back asleep. Sometimes he passed the remaining hours with a bottle of Jack on top of the hood of his car, and other times he just sat on the front porch, flipping an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He wasn’t sure just how much of his sleeplessness Hopper had caught onto, but the sure way he asked Billy indicated it was more than he had let on.

“Alright, I guess,” Billy muttered, giving a little shrug. 

“How are the nightmares?”

“I said fuck-all about nightmares,” Billy snapped, his defenses rearing their ugly head at the probing questions. 

“I know,” Hopper said, his voice almost infuriatingly calm. “I sleep right next door to you. I can hear.”

There was a sharp pang in Billy’s chest. He hadn’t realized he was being that loud. He’d had night terrors in middle school, paralyzing, blood-curdling minutes that sent him bolting upright with a terrified scream. Neil had yelled at him for the first three, jabbing a firm finger into Billy’s shaking shoulder as he warned him of the consequences of yet another night time interruption. His mind hadn’t heeded the warning, and the next time Neil came storming into his room he had a fist with him. Billy woke up with silent gasps after that, deep heaves that were painful but quiet. They’d slowly faded out through the years, but apparently the recent upheaval of his life was enough to bring them back.

He’d thought he’d been quiet about it, waking up with tangled sheets and harsh breathing, but his estimates were clearly off. 

“Sorry,” he said, trying not to let his shoulders tense up. 

Hopper nudged Billy’s leg with his own. “That was not at all the point I was trying to make. No need to be sorry about something you can’t control.”

That felt like a trick. This felt like a farewell in the shape of pity. He wished Hopper would go ahead and do what he was going to do instead of dragging it out like this. 

“Is this your first time having them?” Hopper asked, his knee still resting against Billy’s. 

Billy shrugged, a quick jerk upwards of his shoulders.

“I’m taking that as a no. When did they start?”

Billy dug his nails into the bed of his palm. “Middle school. Haven’t had them in a while though.”

“Were they like the ones you’re having now?”

“Different.”

Hopper’s leaning forward now, resting his arms on his legs and looking at Billy like he’s a puzzle. “Different how?”

“They were night terrors, alright?” Billy breathed out, trying to shove away the claustrophobic feeling clawing at his chest. “The whole little kid, screaming in the middle of the night shit.”

“Why’d they stop?”

Billy’s lips twisted sardonically. “Neil got tired of waking up in the middle of the night to tell me to shut the hell up.”

“Shit, kid. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“I know, son. I’m still sorry though. That was shitty.”

If Hopper called him son one more time he was going to lose it. He tossed the word out carelessly like Billy was good enough to earn that title, lowering it over him when he was down in the dirt and hurting. It was a kick in the gut, a low blow that only served as a reminder to what he was going to lose.

Hopper paused and leaned back, frowning slightly as he let his eyes scan the rest of the room.

“Billy, son, where’s your stuff?”

“In my car.”

“In your car?” Hopper echoed. “Why is your stuff in your car?”

Billy tensed. What invisible rule had he broken this time? “I was just getting a head-start. So you wouldn’t have to wait.”

“I’m completely lost here. What would I be waiting for?”

Fucking hell. Neil had made him recite his sins or whatever bullshit he came up with, but he had never been this picky when it came to explaining what Billy had done wrong. This shit was a whole other ballgame. “For me to get the fuck out of your house,” Billy said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was already getting kicked out, there wasn’t really a reason to watch his tone.

“And why would you be doing that?”

“Because I was a fucking idiot who couldn’t watch a single goddamn fucking pot of water. And because your kid got hurt because of me. And this is after I made you come out to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to get me from the damn Turners,” Billy bit out, ignoring the little burst of fear in his chest. “And you just said you weren’t going to do anything about it, so I can read in between the fucking lines.”

There was a heavy silence after Billy’s outburst, the tension strung high and tight between them. Billy was breathing heavily, his shoulders shuddering up and down as he tried to stand straight and face the Chief head on. Hopper was looking at Billy like his dog had died, and the twist of his mouth was void of the hard lines Neil carried with him wherever he went.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Hopper said, his voice soft. “What happened with El was an accident. She told me she was the one to tip it over, and she’s old enough to know better. I don’t blame you, and there is nothing in between the lines.”

“Then when are you?”

“When will I do what?”

“Kick me out,” Billy asked warily. “How long are you letting me sleep here?”

“Shit,” Hopper said, wincing. “Shit, kid. Forever. I’m sorry. You’re staying here for as long as you want. I’m never kicking you out. I was granted guardianship, Billy. You can stay here until you’re 18 or 88.”

“What the fuck,” Billy breathed, standing up and pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes, trying not to wince at the sear of pain that traveled up his hands. “What the fuck, Chief. Why the hell would you sign up for that?”

“Because I think you’re a great kid. And I love being around you. And I want to be there for the next steps of your life. I want to cheer at your graduation, and I want to go to your wedding. I want to meet your kids if you have them, and I want to teach you how to tie a goddamn tie. And you’re going to deal with all of it, because you’re my kid now too. And you don’t have a choice.”

“That’s not funny,” Billy whispered, his voice cracking. “That’s some messed up shit to be joking about.”

“I’m not joking,” Hopper said, standing up to meet Billy’s level. “I mean every single word. This is your house just as much as it’s mine and El’s.”

“You don’t just say shit like that,” Billy said, taking a step backwards. “You can’t just say shit like that, and pretend it’s not going to change the minute I fuck it up. Because I always do. So don’t promise shit you can’t keep.”

“Well good thing I’m promising shit I can keep.”

Billy turned his head away to try and push down the lump rising in his throat. He could feel Hopper’s eyes on him, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. This was nothing like he had expected, and he would have thought he was dreaming if not for the crescent shaped marks on his palms.

Hopper bridged the gap between them in 3 steps, placing his hand on the back of Billy’s head and drawing it towards his shoulder, enveloping Billy in the second hug he had received since fuck knows when. And then the second arm was around his back and Billy fell into the hug, his forehead pressed against Hopper’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Hopper said, holding Billy like he was going to fall apart. “I promise it’s going to be okay.”

Chapter Text

Billy was on the porch. He seemed to be on the porch more often than not these days. Except lately Hopper had taken to sitting on the porch next to him, pressing the side of his leg into Billy’s, the warmth reaching Billy even through his jeans. Maybe it was because he felt bad, or because he was scared Billy would lose it again, but it didn’t really bother Billy either way. Hell, even he didn’t know if he was going to lose it again.

Things had been better. There was a dresser in his room, and school had started up, which meant he got to drive Max home every day. It was bizarre to think he was excited to see the little brat, but that was the way things had turned out. He ended up seeing her once or twice a week anyway, with him, Hopper, and El getting invited over to eat dinner with the Byer’s on a regular basis. Steve had somehow managed to end up a part of those too, and Billy often found himself sandwiched between Max and Steve, elbows crowding in on each other as they shoved folding chairs into the gaps between dining room chairs. 

Out on the porch he was down to the last stub of his cigarette, dropping it before it reached his fingers. Hopper had joined him later in the evening, and the cigarette he was holding was only halfway gone, the cherry at the end glowing a bright red against the slowly darkening haze of dusk that was settling over the clearing. 

Billy felt untethered. He supposed that was the best way of describing it. The past decade or so of his life had been like living on a tightrope. There wasn’t time to relax, because if you did you’d fall. Except now he was off the tightrope. And he could barely remember what solid ground felt like, to the point where he wasn’t sure how to stand on it. 

“What are you up to tomorrow?” Hopper asked, his voice breaking through Billy’s thoughts. 

Billy scratched the back of his head. “Pick-up game at Steve’s. I’ll probably be back by three.”

Hopper nodded, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “I have a question for you.”

Billy automatically tensed, his heart rate picking up as Hopper said those words. In his experience, questions usually meant bad shit was going to happen. And he was sick and tired of bad shit happening. 

Hopper glanced over at him, and placed a hand on his knee. “Nothing bad, you’re not in trouble.”

“I know I’m not in fucking trouble,” Billy muttered, trying to shake the jitters from his voice. “I did the dishes like you asked me to. And I was home by curfew.”

Hopper moved his hand from Billy’s knee to the back of Billy’s neck, covering Billy’s hand that was anxiously pulling at his hair. “Breathe, kiddo. I can feel the tension in your shoulders.”

Billy let his hand fall out of Hopper’s grip, silently thankful when the man kept his hand firmly against the nape of Billy’s neck. He let out a shaky breath, trying to bleed the stiffness from his spine. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Hopper said. “Alright now?”

Billy nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. You can ask your question or whatever.”

“What were your plans for after high school?”

And the tension was right back, crawling up Billy’s spine because he could never truly get rid of it. “I’m looking for a job,” Billy said, talking fast, trying to explain everything in a second. “I’ll start saving now, and I’ll have enough by graduation to rent a place. I can move all my stuff too, it’s only my clothes and shit, so it won’t even take long.”

“Billy, stop. That’s not what I meant. No way in hell am I letting you rent an apartment by yourself at 18. You’re staying here until you go to college or until you’re 21. Whichever comes first. I’m not kicking you out. I was asking about college. What were your thoughts on that.”

“Oh,” Billy said, furrowing his brows. “Like, if I can go? Because I’m broke as shit, Hop. I couldn’t afford it even if I got in.”

“Well how about we try looking for scholarships, alright? There are some good schools near Hawkins that you can apply to.”

“I think you’re severely overestimating my academic achievements,” Billy said. “Nobody would pay for my grades.”

“What about a sports scholarship? You can really work a ball, kid.”

Billy jerked his head to look at Hopper. “They have sports scholarships?”

“Yeah, they have all kinds of scholarships. You’ve never looked? At all?”

“No, I did,” Billy said, returning his gaze to the tree line. “Back in Cali. But it was a couple years ago, so I don’t really remember what I found.”

“Should have written those down,” Hopper said, giving Billy’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Would have saved us some time.”

Billy gave a bitter smile. “I did. And then Neil found it and introduced it to our shredder. He thought it was a waste of time.”

“Sorry, kiddo. That must have hurt.”

Billy shrugged. “I was stupid, left it out in the open. Ran my mouth a little too much. It was my fault for being such a little shit. I was old enough to know that if you poked the bear it backhanded you.”

“That’s so wrong on so many levels. But it was absolutely not your fault, got it? I’ll say it as many times as it will take, none of it is your fault. Especially not your dad.”

“Fuck off with your self-love bullshit,” Billy said, leaning a little into Hopper’s side. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“No, you ruined the mood when you pulled out the deprecating no college for me shit. I was just continuing the cycle.”

Billy laughed out loud, a deep, honest thing that came from his chest. “Alright, I’ll look for the damn scholarships. Are you happy?”

Hopper looked at him in a way that Neil never had. “Thrilled.”

“My tongue’s bleeding,” Steve said, swiping a finger across his tongue and grimacing when it came back red. 

“The fuck?” Billy said, looking up from his beer. “How the hell did you do that?”

Steve held up the bag of sour candy. “I think they’re acidic, man.”

“No shit, they’re goddamn acidic,” Billy said, snatching the bag out of Steve’s hand. “How many of these did you have?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, just subtract how many you had from what’s gone.”

“I had one,” Billy deadpanned, showing Steve the nearly empty inside. “You have no sense of self-control.  

“Fuck you,” Steve said, letting his head fall back against the windshield of his car. “I’m going through a tough time right now.”

“No, you’re just an idiot who didn’t study for his math test.”

“I was under some goddamn extenuating circumstances.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you actually thought Mr. Hernan would fall for that. I wasn’t even being serious in the first place.”

“What can I say,” Steve said lazily, throwing an arm across his eyes. “I’m a loyal friend. You go down, I go down with you.”

“Yeah, cause using my piece-of-shit father as an excuse to get out of studying is really the epitome of friendship.”

“I’m emotionally supporting you, Billy. So shut the hell up.”

“Shove it up your fucking ass,” Billy said, a small smile twitching at the edge of his mouth. “You talk too much.”

There was a lull of silence, and Billy sat there breathing in the smell of the summer heat. It would rain later in the afternoon, he could see it in the clouds, but he was almost looking forward to it. Being shut in the house with Hopper and El was quite different from being stuck in the house with Neil. 

Which, speaking of rain, meant he needed to head back home and mow the lawn before the downpour started. Hopper had given him a list of chores to pick from, and he had gone with mowing the lawn. It was a needed change from the endless indoor chores he had done throughout his life, and he found that the constant whirring of the motor helped his brain quiet down. At least for a little while. 

“Hey, Billy?”

Billy glanced over at Steve, who was sitting upright and looking at Billy with an odd expression on his face. Billy sat up too, frowning at the odd change in tone. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for not noticing anything was up. Because there was a lot of really obvious shit that I didn’t see, and you wouldn’t have had to go through half the fucking mess you did if I was a little less oblivious.”

Billy blinked at him. “The fuck?”

Steve winced. “And I know that it probably means jack shit, and too little too late and all that, but I wanted you to know that I wish I had done something.” 

Billy gave a breathy laugh, the situation feeling a little surreal. “What the hell were you supposed to do, Steve? Walk up to my dad and say ‘Hey man, I’d appreciate it if you stopped beating up your son on the weekends’?” 

It was Steve’s turn to blink. “Yeah? Something like that?”

“Well that would have just made shit worse, so thank fuck you were oblivious. I don’t blame you for any of this, I have no idea where you got any of that bullshit from. Besides I literally smashed a plate across your head. It was a miracle you even talked to me in the first place.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply and Billy made sure to cut him off. “You were there, alright? And that’s all you needed to do. So shut up with the apology bit.”

Steve’s face relaxed into something a little softer, and he reached up to rake his hair away from his face. “I still feel like a real asshole though.”

Billy took another swig of his beer before passing it over to Steve. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re the biggest ass I know. It’s just not because of my dad.”

Steve took the bottle out of Billy’s hand and laughed. “Good to know.”

Billy was on the couch in the living room with Max curled up under his arm. Hopper was over at Joyce’s house, and El was over at Mike’s place. So for the next couple of hours it was just him, Max, and old reruns on the T.V. Hopper managed to orchestrate afternoons like these at least three or four times a month, giving space to the desperate frayed string that ran between Billy and Max. 

It was an odd relationship. They had both spent the majority of their time together practicing disdain and anger, each of them using the other as a scapegoat for the sideshow that was the Mayfield-Hargrove residence. Max’s had been out of confusion and Billy’s was out of pain, but they still met in the middle and clashed like nothing else could. 

Max’s revelation of the true situation had filed down some of the sharp edges, but there was still the lingering animosity. As much as Billy knew none of it was truly her fault, he couldn’t help but feel differently when the sting of leather was biting into his bare skin. Sometimes walking out of his room and seeing her, standing there with not a single goddamn mark because no one ever touched Max, was just too much. And when it exploded, who else was there to receive the brunt of it? 

But that night, when Max had stormed out into the living room with a petrified fury, standing up to Neil with a ferocity that spoke of inexperience and innocence, Billy couldn’t find it in him to be mad at her. Sure, he was going to feel every one of her words on his skin later, but she was trying. God , was she trying. So he hadn’t felt bitter when Neil’s face went cold and the belt came out. Only a grim acceptance. Just because Neil was going to drag him down, didn’t mean he had to drag someone else down with him. 

So now he did things like movie nights with her, where she leaned into his side and stole his popcorn. She’d ramble on about her day, telling him stories of what she and the nerd squad had gotten up to while she was out and about. And somehow that made him feel just a little less lost. A little less ungrounded.

Sometimes that panicked, ungrounded feeling would surge up and hit him full force in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. It didn’t discriminate against location or situation, striking just as hard in his room as it did shopping with Hopper or sitting on the couch with Max. Hopper would always guide him through it with his words, slow soft statements that would reach through the vice around Billy’s chest. Usually it was accompanied by a firm hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck, holding him steady while things went fuzzy. Max would just wrap her hand around his wrist and squeeze, tethering him to reality with her grip. He was too tired to be embarrassed about it.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Billy snapped back to reality and glanced down at Max. “Yeah, it’s something people do. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

She jabbed an elbow into his side. “Yeah but you get a weird look on your face when you’re worried about something. So tell me.”

“I’m not worried about anything, jeez. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”

“Just tell me.”

Billy gave a relenting shrug. “Just college stuff.”

“Oh. Well college is good.”

Billy flicked her in the side of the head. “No shit.”

The front door slammed open and El marched in, her hair pulled up into a messy bun that Billy already knew was Max’s influence. 

“Holy crap, kiddo,” Billy said, turning around to look at her. “You couldn’t have done that a little softer? Where’s Hop?”

“Carrying groceries,” El announced, rounding the side of the couch and dropping next to Max. “We have no more eggs.”

“I thought he was going to drive you and Max back to Ms. Byers’ place?”

“Yeah, slight change of plans,” Hopper said, walking through the door before shutting it with the heel of his boot. “Joyce wants to bring us casserole.”

”Casserole?”

“Don’t even ask,” Hopper said, setting the bags he was carrying down on the counter. “Mind giving me a hand with these?”

“Yeah, sure,” Billy said, already half off the couch. The groceries were roughly divided into healthy and unhealthy, and Billy started working on the fruits and vegetables bag, stacking strawberries and green beans into the fridge drawers. 

“It’s just us tonight,” Hopper said, accepting an empty plastic bag from Billy. “Got any ideas of what you want to do?”

Billy shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

“I didn’t ask if you were picky,” Hopper said, raising his eyebrows at Billy. “I asked if you had any ideas.”

Billy let out a huff of amusement, shooting a side glance at Hopper. “Yeah, and what if I wanted you to choose what we did?”

“Not on the menu today.”

Billy took a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure that El was engrossed in her conversation with Max before turning back to Hopper with a barely audible “Fuck your menu”.

“You’re toeing the line there,” Hopper said with mock seriousness. “I’m fining you a quarter for each one of your words she repeats.”

“Put it on my bill,” Billy announced with all the confidence of the men on the boardwalks he used to steal ID’s from back in California. Just the implication of money emanating from the photo was enough to get you through almost any door on the strip. 

“You try that line when you’re a little older.”

“Buzzkill. Can we watch that Bogart movie you said was good?”

“The Caine Mutiny?”

“If that’s the one you said was good.”

“Trust me kid, it’s great.”

There was a flurry of knocks at the door and Hopper gave Billy’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he passed by to let in Ms. Byers. The knock was a distinct one, and it usually meant the arrival of food. So yeah, Billy fucking loved that knock. 

“You made them cake!?” Max shouted from her vantage spot on the couch. “They get cake!?”

“How about we try that on a much quieter level,” Joyce said, giving Max an eyebrow raise and a small smile. 

“Did you make two cakes?” Max asked, lowering her voice. “Please tell me you made two cakes.”

“I made two cakes,” Joyce said, handing off the casserole and cake to Hopper. “But two people are not getting any until they finish the dishes.”

Max scrunched her nose in irritation. “Will said he’d wash them after he did his homework. And I can’t dry until he starts that.”

“Well then why didn’t you wash them?” Joyce said, giving Billy a soft smile as she passed him by. 

“I hate washing the dishes.”

“That’s because she’s never had to do chores in her entire life,” Billy said, leaning against the counter. “I don’t think she even knows where our cleaning supplies are.”

Max flushed. “Mom always did the chores anyway, so it wasn’t like I had a chance to find out.”

“Susan didn’t do shit,” Billy drawled out. “I don’t think she’s touched a broom since you guys moved in.”

Max started to furrow her brow in confusion before the realization took hold, the amusement dropping from her eyes like a stone.”Oh. I’m sorry Billy. I wasn’t thinking--I didn’t mean--.”

Billy shrugged. “I’m not upset. Just saying that washing dishes isn’t awful. If you throw on music it’s kinda fun.”

“Will has a couple records,” Max supplied, trying to make up for her earlier words. “I’ll do it when I get home, Ms. Byers. Promise.”

“I know,” Joyce, said with a small smile. “And I’m sure Will’s homework will be done by the time we get home, so you might even do it together. Are you and El ready to go?”

El’s head shot up from behind the couch with a wide and guilty expression. “Oops.”

Max glanced over at her and they met glances for a second before bursting into a round of giggles. El scampered off the couch with Max in tow, disappearing into her room to pack. 

“Would you like to borrow some wine?” Hopper asked dryly. “I have a feeling you’ll be needing it.”

“Trust me,” She said, wrapping an arm around Hopper’s waist. “I have a collection bigger than yours.”

Billy turned against the counter, resting his back against the edge. “Do you want me to bring the girls’ stuff to your car?”

“Oh, no,” Joyce said, waving her hand. “They’re completely able to do it themselves.”

A loud thump emanated from El’s room and Hopper winced. “I hope that wasn’t the furniture.”

Joyce pulled a package of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and placed it conspicuously on the counter. “I think you’ll need these.”

Billy stifled a laugh and pulled his pack out of his jeans. “Here you go,” he said, tossing it onto the table next to Joyce’s pack. “Just in case.”

“You’re both insufferable,” Hopper grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll go make sure they haven’t broken anything.”

Joyce leaned back against the counter next to Billy and watched Hopper open the door. There was a shriek, and then El pushed past him with a suitcase in hand. Max was right behind, ducking under Hopper’s arm with a quick grin. Hopper glanced into the room and muttered something under his breath, stepping inside and disappearing from view. 

“Five dollars it’s the dresser,” Joyce said, shooting Billy a side glance. 

“Ten it’s the nightstand.”

Joyce stuck out her hand and they shook on it. 

Max and El clambered down the porch stairs as Hopper came back out of the room with an amused look on his face. 

“They knocked the damn nightstand over.”

“Damn it,” Joyce said, digging in her back pocket for a ten dollar bill. “You had the home field advantage.”

Billy grinned and tucked the bill into his pocket. “Gotta play the cards right.”

“Did you two bet on that?” Hopper asked. “Get out of my house, Joyce. And take the monsters with you. Billy and I are going to waste the whole afternoon. And we need silence to do that.”

“You two better keep this house intact,” Joyce scolded with a warm smile. “I need somewhere to send the girls when they’ve made me lose my mind.”

“Aye aye Captain,” Billy said, giving her a salute.

She lingered for a moment before shaking her head and heading out the door. Billy watched the doorway she had just went through, a little weight in his chest lifting. An arm settled around his shoulder, firm and grounding, but not in the harsh way Neil used his arms. This one was something to lean against. 

“You alright, Billy?”

Billy shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright.”