Archive of Our Own

Living with the Holloways has been an easier adjustment than Billy ever expected. Maybe because he got to live in the pool house full time - the privacy and distance away from the main house certainly helped. And he’s settled down considerably since the summer. Getting over the anguish of being abandoned by your father is made kind of easier when you have a wealthy family to take you in. Plus, once he stopped sulking around he was able to start up a little something with Steve, and the constant sneaking back and forth across the yards definitely helped lift his spirits.

He was maybe happier than he’s been since his mom was around - or, at least, on his way to it. And he had grown comfortable enough in his new surroundings to, maybe not yet call it home, but at least call it safe.

That was until the holidays rolled around, anyway.

Halloween and Thanksgiving had passed fine. Billy had always loved Halloween - loved getting to dress up (aka have an actual excuse to walk around half naked), and party, and, it turns out, rich people kind of go crazy over the holiday. He was like a little kid taking in all the decorated lawns and the parties - Christ, the parties.

Thanksgiving was… Thanksgiving. A fancy dinner as to be expected, except this time he wasn’t forced to help cook under threat of being starved out if he didn’t. He had voluntarily aided Heather in her pumpkin pie making and Janet’s turkey basting. It had just been the four of them, and Billy didn’t know if that was tradition or they didn’t want to overwhelm him on his first big holiday in their home, but it was nice. Appreciated.

Apparently that was enough to get him acclimated, at least according to Heather. Because now that it’s the weekend after Thanksgiving she’s forcing him to drag out boxes of decorations from the garage.

“Don’t rich people usually hire people to do this kind of shit for them?” Billy grunts, setting down a box of ornaments. They jingle in their confines.

“Daddy doesn’t like paying ‘unnecessary expenses’.” She finger quotes. “His words, not mine.” Heather’s fluffing up the branches on the back of the tree they had picked up that morning - they being not Billy, because he was, fortunately, still asleep for that adventure, thank God. He can only imagine what a nightmare Heather must’ve been trying to pick out the perfect tree, and he’s sure she delegated herself in charge of that task.

“The holidays are about family and togetherness,” Tom says, stepping into the living room, his wife following behind. “It’s not fun having other people decorate for you.”

“Just admit you’re cheap, dear,” Janet teases.

Tom grabs her by the waist then, dramatically pulling her til she’s flush against his front. “You won’t be saying that when I give you your gift this year.”

“Oh? You spend more than twenty dollars this year?” she giggles.

Tom makes a face to mock her jab at him, but Billy sees nothing but fondness in their eyes as they look at each other before stealing a quick kiss.

Heather gags, says “Ugh, can you two get a room?”

Billy’s inclined to agree. Has no real interest in seeing old people makeout, but. There is something kind of nice about it, too. He can’t remember the last time he saw married people - adults in general - so in love. Acting like they actually liked being around each other. He certainly doesn’t remember seeing such displays from his own parents. Even when his dad brought Susan around it always felt like she was only there to fill a role. She wasn’t Neil’s equal. Nobody was Neil’s equal, according to Neil.

It’s a nice reminder that two people can actually stay in love with each other.

“Oh, Billy, look!” Heather calls all cheery, bouncing over to him with an old, faded ornament in her hand. Looks like one of those handmade knitted things from back in the 70s. Remembers his mom going through a phase herself one year making them for the tree.

“Wasn’t I the cutest kid?” Heather holds up the ornament, a white crocheted snowflake with a circle in the middle to hold a picture of Heather at what looks to be no older than five years. Her hair’s almost as big as she is, and the gap from her missing tooth is predominant as she grins wide at the camera, holding up a Barbie doll. She looks happy, in the way all kids do on Christmas when they’ve gotten exactly what they’ve asked for.

Something pulls at Billy’s chest at the memory of his own Christmases. They’d never really had much money for Billy to get the extravagant loot he’s sure the kids on this side of town had, but Billy’s mom had done her best. Saved up one year just to get him the coveted GI Joe action figure he’d been eying for months. Neil had just complained that his son shouldn’t be playing with dolls, didn’t matter that the damn thing was marketed to boys, the very picture of masculinity with its soldier image and ripped muscles. Maybe Neil just knew something Billy didn’t back then. Neil seemed to know a lot of things before Billy did.

“Adorable,” Billy deadpans, earning him a smack to his shoulder from his friend.

“Maybe we can get you your own ornament, Billy?” Janet asks. He can tell she’s trying to be polite about it, like she wants him to know he’s included, but isn’t trying to step on his toes.

“Oh, no… you don’t-”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, really.” Janet smiles reassuringly. “Just let me know.”

“Uh… yeah. Okay.”

He doesn’t really know how he feels about implanting himself into the family like that, even if he has been with them for a few months already. There’s still a part of him that feels like a guest, like he’s just a visitor into this life for a short period of time. But as he watches the three of them decorate the tree, dancing around each other and laughing and arguing about where to put the ornaments, he can’t help but feel like maybe he wants to be part of it all, too.

“You better start getting into the Chrismukkah spirit, blondie,” Heather playfully scolds. “I’m not letting you ruin my holidays.”

“The what?” Billy’s certain Heather’s just had a stroke.

“Chrismukkah!” She reiterates, stepping out from behind the tree to grab a menorah out from another box, waving it in Billy’s face. “It’s the combined celebrations of Christmas and Hanukkah that I made up.” She smiles, all proud of herself like she just solved world hunger. “Mom’s Jewish, dad’s Christian, and I wanted all the presents, so-” She shrugs. “Chrismukkah was born!”

“And the part about combining family traditions into one, thus creating a new legacy…” Tom adds in.

“Yeah, sure, that, too.” Heather waves a dismissive hand. Her father rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Christmas, Hanukkah, and your birthday? Seems like overkill,” Billy says. “You know there’s kids out there that don’t even get one of those.”

“Yeah, well. You’re with us now, so you’ll get to be one of the fortunate to experience the full Chrismukkah experience. Dreidel and caroling and latkes- oh!” Heather’s eyes go all bright, like she’s introducing Billy to the seven wonders. “You’re going to love latkes!”

“If you say so…”

“Are there any Christmas traditions you have, Billy?” Janet asks. She’s in the middle of sprinkling silver tinsel on the tree.

Billy shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugs. “Christmases usually consist of my dad throwing me a pack of cigs if he feels up to it that year and me trying not to get my ass beat all day.”

He feels the air sucked out of the room as soon as the words leave his mouth, everyone’s faces going solemn. He’s gotta remember not to be so forthcoming.

“Okay, well-” Tom starts, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “-can guarantee there won’t be any ass beatings. I’ll see what I can do about the cigarettes, though.”

“Tom!” Janet chastises, throwing a sprinkle of tinsel in her husband’s direction.

Billy, to his surprise, finds himself chuckling This could be the first Christmas - Chrismukkah, whatever - he’s found himself looking forward to in a while.

He’s sitting on the couch, scarfing down the leftover popcorn from the strings Heather made them thread and place around the tree when she comes barreling down in a huff beside him.

“I’m totally screwed for this party.”

There’s some big Christmas party a freshly separated Mrs. Harrington is throwing with her new beau. Billy was invited by proxy of living with the Holloways, but also received a more formal invite via Steve who is being forced to go to “keep up appearances” - his words.

Billy’s all too familiar with keeping up appearances, so maybe he feels a little sympathetic for the guy, more than he normally would. Enough to have him actually agreeing to go to this stinkfest.

“I thought bitchy socialites like you thrived at big fancy parties?” Billy drawls around a mouthful of popcorn.

“We do!” Heather whines, though Billy’s pretty sure she’s half fucking with him. Only half. “But this whole situation with Robin and Vicki has gotten out of control and I told them both I’d be their date, so now what am I gonna do?!”

Lesbian love triangles were about the last thing Billy expected to deal with moving in with the Holloways, but now here he was playing romance advisor to the most popular girl in the OC.

Heather had gotten herself into a pickle by kind of, sort of seeing Vicki, only to be later introduced to Robin via Steve dating Billy, and the two of them hitting it off as well.

Billy thinks it’s Vicki’s fault, personally. From what Heather’s told him, she never wanted to commit to anything since her parents couldn’t find out she was into girls, so official dating had been off the table. Which… he gets. He’s pulled the same shit with guys before. But he’s also an admitted slut who liked to keep his options open, so. He at least set clear boundaries.

Anyway, point is Vicki and Robin found out about each other when Heather got her date nights screwed up, so now they’ve settled into an arrangement where Heather casually dates the both of them while the other two pretend they aren’t sitting around waiting for Heather to make up her mind and choose them.

Fuckin’ nightmare.

“It’s not like it’d be a real date, anyway,” Billy offers. “Just tell them you’ll split your time. No big deal.”

Heather seems to contemplate that for a second. “That could work… See!” She sits up and slaps Billy’s knee. “That’s what we keep you around for!”

“Glad I could earn my keep,” he responds sarcastically around a mouthful of popcorn.

A few hours later finds Billy pulling into the parking lot of a condo building that overlooks the harbor. Steve’s new living arrangements since his mom sent his dad packing - along with divorce papers - and Steve decided he’d had enough of living with his overbearing, materialistic mother despite being just next door to Billy. A real bummer, but, all things considered, it was for the best after the Mexico debacle.

Billy had found Steve unconscious in an alley, overdosed on God knows what, and Billy knew. Knew it was the stress of his parents’ constant arguing and looming separation, and if living with Steve’s dad did even a little bit to calm him down then Billy wouldn’t be selfish enough to complain about having to drive out of his way just to see him.

Besides, Mr. Harrington’s condo has got a nice view, and Billy’s learned he likes reaping the benefits of associating with the upper class.

Another benefit, of which, is dragging one of them to the mall to help him shop for Christmas presents. A task he had roped Heather into when it came time to buying for her parents and Steve, but since he couldn’t very well bring her along to shop for her own presents (even though he’s positive she’d prefer it that way), he’s decided to bring Steve along to tell him what rich girls like.

“Does Heather even know I’m helping pick out her gifts?” Steve asks as they’re walking through the perfume department. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell her,” Billy responds, picking up a sample of some overpriced bullshit that smells like his dead grandma. He promptly puts it back down and walks away.

“Well, I’m glad you invited me. I love the mall at Christmastime.”

Billy looks over at Steve like he’s lost his mind. “Nobody likes malls at Christmastime.”

“Well, I do!” Steve laughs, like he knows how ridiculous he sounds but is standing firm regardless. “I don’t know, something about the music playing over the speakers and all the decorations… everyone searching for that something special for their loved ones, the kids lining up to take pictures with Santa…”

“I think you richy-riches just idolize capitalism too much.” It’s a sentiment Billy mostly means, but he thinks he understands where Steve is coming from. Even through all the chaos, it reminds Steve of simpler times. And maybe there’s also a version of a happier Harrington family that exists in this fantasy world of his where a bustling, overcrowded mall gives him the warm and fuzzies.

Everyone’s got their coping mechanisms, he supposes.

“Oh, come on! Tell me this isn’t fun!” Steve holds up a bottle of cologne to Billy’s nose. Shit smells like bong water, and when Billy quickly retracts he knows by Steve’s laughter that was the exact reaction he was expecting.

“You people are sick. What is this shit?”

“You haven’t refined your scent palette yet,” Steve laughs, slapping his hand onto Billy’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s do a food court break, I’ll buy you a soft pretzel.”

Billy won’t argue against that.

They’re almost at the exit of the department store when, out of the corner of his eye, Billy sees a security guard approaching. He keeps walking, knowing he hasn’t done anything, but still prepares himself to be stopped. Wouldn’t be the first time since he’s moved to this town. Turns out, the wealthy are suspicious of the mulletted teenager dressed head to toe in thrifted denim. Hell, he used to get it back home, too.

The security guard catches up to them, and Billy immediately stops, throwing his hands up in the air. “Hey, look, man, I didn’t-”

“Empty your pockets, sir.”

The command isn’t directed at Billy, to his surprise.

“You can’t be serious…” Steve scoffs, making no move to follow the guard’s instructions.

“If you don’t, then I will.”

“Don’t you need a search warrant? You can’t just- hey!”

Billy watches the security guard manhandle Steve while Steve tries fighting him off. Instinct kicks in and Billy tries shoving the guy off, protesting in Steve’s defense.

The protests die when the guard retrieves a cologne bottle from Steve's pocket.

Billy had been with him the whole time. He hadn’t even seen…

He shoots a look over at Steve, a silent question of what the fuck is going on?

Steve can’t even look at him.

It marks the first ever occasion that Billy willingly goes with a security guard instead of running away - and it’s not even his crime!

He thinks he’s made a mistake, though, when Mr. Harrington shows up about half an hour later, and Billy has to sit there awkwardly as he berates his son.

“Stealing?! What the hell were you thinking, Steven! I thought we were getting past this! The therapy was working, wasn’t it?”

Steve’s cheeks go pink. Billy knows he hates having to see a shrink. Thinks it makes him weak, or something. Billy doesn’t really know how to handle it. The thought of therapy for himself makes his skin itch, but he also remembers overhearing his mom talking about how she should go, her and Neil. But it never ended up happening, as far as he knows. And she ended up leaving, so. Maybe the therapy would’ve helped. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. He’ll never know.

“It’s not even that serious!” Steve argues back. “It was just one bottle!”

“Exactly!” Mr. Harrington yells. “One bottle you have the means to pay for! So what was the reason?”

Billy shrinks down in his seat. He’s in hell. Like, actual hell. Would rather have Neil yelling at him right now because at least it would be less uncomfortable than having to sit and witness someone else’s family drama.

“If this gets out to other people-”

“Of course!” Steve scoffs, throwing his arms up. “Because that’s always what it’s about!”

“That is not what I meant!”

A steady stream of shootmenowshootmenowshootmenow rotates in Billy’s head. He remembers now why he’s never gotten into the Christmas spirit - this time of year always serves to bring out the worst in people, intentionally or not.

“We will finish this discussion at home. Come on.” Mr. Harrington grabs Steve’s arm, but Steve plants his feet, not budging an inch, which clearly pisses his dad off.

“Billy can take me. I came here with him anyway.”

Fuuuuuck. Now why did he have to go and get dragged into it?

Mr. Harrington shoots him a glare.

In all honesty, Billy’s never had much problem with Steve’s dad. The guy’s not exactly fond of him, but he hasn’t been openly hostile, either. Just kind of passively accepts Billy’s presence in his son’s life, so long as he remains respectful and doesn’t land his son in prison or the morgue (saving Steve in Mexico had been kind of rocky. Mr. Harrington had been grateful that Billy got Steve to a hospital, but he was also pissed Steve was in Mexico with him overdosing to begin with.)

Billy doesn’t think Mr. Harrington’s anger is directed at him right now, though. At least, he hopes not. He’s not gonna think about it.

“Steven,” Mr. Harrington sighs, in that heavy, put-upon way parents do when they’re at their wits end and trying not to have the meltdown of the century. “I am not asking you.”

“But I’m telling you,” Steve argues back, and all Billy can think about is the sting of Neil’s hand against his cheek if he ever spoke to him like that. “Billy can take me home.”

“Steve-” Billy starts, but falls off when he takes in the two Harringtons staring each other down. This is so much bigger than him, he’s staying out of it.

After a tense moment, Mr. Harrington turns to Billy with a stone-hard gaze, finally letting go of his son. “I know exactly how long it takes to get from this mall to my condo building. A minute over and I will have every cop in the state looking for you, understood?”

Billy gulps, nods his head. “Understood, sir.” He doesn’t move until Steve drags him by the arm out of the room.

The ride back is silent, not even the radio blasting Billy’s typical metal.

He’s pissed, if he’s honest. Doesn’t even really have words for what he’s feeling, just knows there’s something shaken up inside of him after having to have that exchange with Steve’s dad all because Steve had to go around acting like an entitled brat.

But the thing, too is- Billy kind of gets it. Maybe he doesn’t exactly understand the mind of a spoiled rich kid throwing temper tantrums, but, like. He also knows kids don’t just OD in Mexico without some serious shit going on, so. Whatever Steve is feeling must be a lot. And that’s why he’s kept his mouth shut from what he really wants to say.

“Oh, great,” Steve groans as the Camaro rolls up to the entrance of Mr. Harrington’s condo building. “My mom’s here.”

He must’ve spotted her car in the parking lot. Billy doesn’t know which one it is. All rich people’s cars have started to look the same.

“Maybe she’s here to punish you,” Billy adds sort of jokingly. “Forbid you from going to that Christmas party.”

Steve scoffs. “I would be so lucky. No, no. She’ll just double down on me having to go because she knows I don’t want to. I know how her brain works.”

Billy hums, bringing his thumb up to his teeth so he can chew at the skin around the nail. There’s worse punishments in the world than being forced to attend some bougie party.

“Come inside with me.” It’s not a question, but Steve’s turning those big Bambi eyes on him like it is.

“Uh, think I’ll pass on that one, Pretty Boy. No sense in the both of us getting yelled at.”

Steve sighs all dramatically, flopping himself back against the passenger seat. “Yeah, fine. You’re probably right.” He rolls his head over to look at Billy. “But just know this could be the last time you’ll ever see me.”

“Aw, no it won’t.” Billy smiles, all faux saccharine. “We got a Christmas party to go to, remember?”

Steve groans loud and long in response. Billy can’t help but chuckle. Reaches over and slaps Steve’s thigh with the back of his hand in encouragement. “You’ll be fine. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Steve glances around the parking lot before stretching over the center console to place a kiss to Billy’s lips. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Billy mumbles before Steve gives him another farewell peck and exits the vehicle.

Billy watches him enter the building, waiting until he’s out of sight to drive off. He thought Mexico had been Steve’s rock bottom, that it served its purpose as a wake up call, and Steve was on the up and up. But as Billy pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the main road he can’t shake the feeling that they’re not as out of the clear as he thought.

When Billy comes home he’s pleased to see word hasn’t made it back to the Holloways about Steve’s little mall snafu. He doesn’t know how long God will grant him that peace, but he’ll take advantage of it by sneaking away to the pool house and hiding under the covers until the party later.

He gets about twenty minutes of that before Heather’s knocking on his door, not bothering to wait for an invitation inside before she’s bouncing over to his bed to plop herself down.

“Get up!” she says, patting - slapping, really - his leg. “I have a present!”

“It’s not Christmas,” Billy groans, arm slung over his eyes like that’ll somehow make him disappear. “Or Hanukkah, for that matter.”

“Which is why I have to give it to you now! You’re gonna need it, trust me.”

Billy folds, lifting his arm up so he can peek over at Heather and her mystery present. Which, now that he’s thinking about it, he never did end up picking her out anything from the mall, thanks, Steve. He’s gonna have to make another trip, solo this time. Fuckin’ great.

When he doesn’t spot anything that can be considered a present, curiosity gets the best of him, and he sits upright with a huff, legs splayed out on the bedsheets in front him. “Alright, what is it?”

Heather beams. “Okay, so, I was already going to make you one since you’re part of the family and all, but then you gave us your sad Christmas sob story-”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Anyway!” Heather continues on, not missing a beat. “I realized you were kind of in a state of emergency, and I needed to fast track this, so! Here’s your very own stocking to add to the Holloway mantlepiece!”

She pulls out a Christmas stocking from behind her back, handing it off to Billy.

It’s nothing spectacular. Just a standard stocking bought off the shelf, except it’s blue velvet with silver trimming. The only thing on it that can be considered homemade is the large, calligraphic, glittering B in the center, Heather’s very own personal touch.

It’s just a stocking, when it comes down to it. Billy doesn’t know why his throat’s closing up.

“I tried my best to match the color to the Camaro…” Heather explains, voice gone softer now.

The Camaro…

Billy remembers when he thought he’d never see that damn car again, but through some miracle (money, he figures) Tom had managed to get it away from Neil’s old driveway and behind the gates of Hawkins Court.

Heather had found him crying in it that night, one of the more embarrassing moments of his life, but he hadn’t realized how much that damn car meant to him until he lost it and had it returned to him. That… and maybe he was also starting to accept the lengths the Holloways would go to to care for him. As if letting him stay in their pool house wasn’t enough.

“Thanks. I, uh-” Billy clears his throat, wipes a falling tear from his eye with the back of his thumb. “Haven’t had a stocking since I was a kid, I think.” He tries to laugh, to make that sentence sound less depressing than it actually is. But the look in Heather’s eyes tells him he missed the mark, and he’s getting her pity whether he likes it or not.

To her credit, however, she doesn’t linger on it. Just pats him on the knee and tells him to start making a list of his favorite candies and shit.

“And you can expect a pack or two of smokes, don’t worry,” she teases. “And definitely a novelty lighter, but that’s going to be a total surprise.”

Because that’s exactly what he needs, some stupid shit to pull out every time he wants to light up. Billy can only imagine the shit Heather would find hilarious enough to give him.

“Whatever,” Billy says, still holding the velvet of the stocking between his fingers. “Just remember I still have to get you presents, too.”

Billy manages to get in a solid hour of sleep before he’s gotta be up and getting ready for this stupid Christmas party. He still can’t believe this is his life now; hanging around rich people and attending their stuffy parties. Still beats the hell out of living with Neil, he guesses. And he’s got Steve, so. Makes it slightly tolerable.

He lets his mind wander to Steve while he’s brushing his teeth. Thinks about the lecture he’s sure to have gotten from his parents and how Billy hopes he doesn’t let it sour his mood for the night. Things have been tentative since Mexico. It’d be a bad night for him to slip back to that.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Billy calls from the foyer, leaving earlier than the Holloways because he’s gotta go pick up Steve.

He’s stopped short when he opens the door and nearly runs face first into Robin Buckley, hair slicked back and dressed nicely in a pair of slacks and a button up shirt and chunky tie, not too dissimilarly from Billy’s own party attire - except Billy’s elected to forego the tie and leave a few of his buttons undone.

“Uh, Heather!” He calls out to the stairs. “You got company!”

Heather’s halfway down the stairs, still in the process of placing a diamond stud in her ear when she pauses, just out of view from Robin at the door. “What are you talking abou-” Billy swings the door open wider and steps aside, allowing Robin space to enter. “Oh shit…” Heather mumbles, though not as quietly as she probably hoped. But she recovers quickly, walking down the rest of the stairs to greet her date. “Robin! Hi! What are you doing here?”

“We’re going to the party together?” Robin phrases it like a question, like Heather’s just had sudden onset amnesia. “Remember?”

“No, yeah, totally! But I just figured we’d meet each other there…”

Heather’s bad night gets worse when next Vicki Carmichael walks up to the door in some emerald green frock with shoulders puffy enough to match the density of her hair.

Maybe Billy’s a bad friend, but he can’t help but laugh. He feels a little bad when he looks over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Heather’s horrified expression, but really, what can he do?

“Well, you seem to have your hands full. I gotta run.”

The last thing Billy hears as he’s walking down the driveway is Heather’s distinct shout of ”ASSHOLE!”

“This is all karmic payback, you know that, right?” Steve says after Billy delightfully regails him with the story of what’s happening to Heather tonight.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that serious,” Billy argues. “Who hasn’t accidentally double-booked a date before? I know they don’t call you king for nothing.” Billy smirks teasingly. Steve rolls his eyes. “Besides, think you’re the last person who should be talking about karma right now. How’d that talk with your parents go?”

“Horrible,” Steve groans.

“Well, maybe don’t steal things from now on.” Steve throws him a you gotta be shitting me look. Billy holds up his hands. “I mean don’t get caught, at least.”

“It’s all bullshit, anyway.” Steve sighs, leaning against the back of the couch, shoulders hunched up by his ears as his body stretches out. “Like… these people haven’t been able to be in the same room with each other - let alone speak - for the past year and a half, but suddenly I commit one little misdemeanor and they’re teaming up against me? A little late to be acting like parents, don’t you think?”

Billy shrugs, because what the fuck does he know? He hasn’t seen his parents in the same room going on damn near a decade, and when they were together it was nothing but screaming matches and fists flying. But he doesn’t see how any of that will help Steve or relate to him, so.

“Whatever.” Steve pushes off the couch. “Let’s just go to this stupid party and get the night over with.”

“You really know how to make a guy feel special, Harrington,” Billy snarks, heading towards the door.

He’s got it open, about to cross the threshold, when Steve stops him with a “Oh, shit! I forgot my wallet.”

“Whattaya need your wallet for? We’re just going to your mom’s party.”

Steve scoffs. “You can’t just go places without your wallet, Billy. Who knows what you might need inside it.”

Weird, Billy thinks, but doesn’t voice it. Chalks it up to being another oddball rich people thing.

“Just go on downstairs. I’ll catch up.”

“Yeah, fine, alright.”

Steve leaves him to race off towards his room, and Billy watches for a few seconds. Shaking his head and smiling fondly at his boyfriend and his quirks.

He hopes Steve is on his way to better spirits. The party may be ass, but they can still have their own fun tonight. He’ll just have to make sure to give Steve a good distraction. Not exactly hard to do.

Mrs. Harrington has somehow found a way to move even higher up on the totem pole.

Billy thought the houses in Hawkins Court were huge (they are), but they’re starting to look like tiny shacks in comparison to the house they roll up to now. It’s not even in a neighborhood, just its own plot of land.

Large golden gates open for the Camaro to drive through (not before a surly security guard gives Billy the third degree and Steve has to lean over his lap and produce ID just to prove they do, in fact, belong here. The wallet had uses after all…)

Luxury cars and limos line the graveled courtyard that makes up the driveway to the house, and Billy whistles long and low as they walk through them to get to the front door.

“Coulda made a fortune back home lifting these things.”

“Still can.” Steve looks sideways at Billy, sending him a cheeky grin like he’d really be down for stripping some cars.

A laugh puffs out of Billy’s nose as he looks over his shoulder. “Don’t think Mr. Security Man would like that too much.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft, Hargrove. What will all your juvie friends think?”

Billy knows it’s a joke. He and Steve tease each other all the time over shit like this. Billy calls him a spoiled princess, and Steve will call him a jailbird, and they’ll think nothing of it and go back to playing grab ass or whatever.

So Billy chooses to ignore his hackles rising now. Chalks it up to the anxiety of being in a stranger's too big house at a party with too many people who could buy and sell his life ten times over.

Steve leads Billy through the house like he owns the place. Odd, considering Steve’s talked endlessly about how he can’t stand his mom’s new boyfriend and has refused to go out of his way to be near him. Billy’s pretty sure this is Steve’s first, maybe second, time being here, but that does nothing to dissuade his confidence.

They make it out back to where most of the other partygoers have gathered. It’s lit up bright so Billy can see just how expansive the rest of this place is, sat atop a hill and surrounded by rolling mountains just visible under the dark of night where the light doesn’t reach. There’s an olympic-sized pool with candles and white flower petals floating about, not quite Christmassy, but as close to a winter wonderland as southern California gets.

Billy whistles, long and low, taking in the place. “Your mom sure knows how to upgrade.”

“Shut up,” Steve responds. When Billy looks over at him his face is all contorted in disgust.

Billy puts his hands up as a show of peace. “I’m just saying. Wouldn’t be a bad place to live. God knows there’s enough room to evade your mom and her sugar daddy if that’s the issue.”

“I’d rather be in a whole other state.”

Billy regrets mentioning it, but before he can change the topic to something more pleasant Mrs. Harrington decides to make her appearance.

“Steven! You made it!” She’s got a champagne glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other, both coming up to hold Steve’s face and give him a kiss that’s nothing short of performative.

“Didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

“And you brought a friend…” She looks Billy up and down, trying to be polite for the sake of any onlookers, though the disdain is clear as day in her eyes.

Billy was never winning any favors with Steve’s parents. But where Mr. Harrington at least learned to tolerate him, Mrs. Harrington couldn’t stand him and let it be known. Steve’s little stunt in Mexico hadn’t exactly helped, either. Yeah, Billy had saved him from ending up dead in some alley in Tijuana, but Mrs. Harrington also blamed him for Steve being there in the first place. As if Steve hadn’t already been on this trajectory long before Billy even appeared in their next door driveway.

People always needed someone to blame, and that person usually ended up being Billy.

“This is a lovely party, Mrs. Harrington.” Normally, Billy’s very good at charming moms. Steve’s just happens to not be one of them.

“You knew he was coming here, mother,” Steve interrupts, clearly not interested in playing nice.

Great. This was going to be great.

“Well, I don’t know!” She waves her hand flippantly. “You could’ve invited someone else. There’s always a chance you and Nancy-”

“There is no more Nancy! Jesus, mom, get off it already!”

“Lower your voice, Steven!” Mrs. Harrington harshly whispers at him, eyes darting around to see how much of a scene has been made.

There’s a few nearby onlookers, but they quickly go back to their own conversations when spotted. Billy has to admit, even he’s feeling uncomfortable.

Steve’s mom steps in closer then, voice lowered for only Steve - and Billy - to hear. “You have the audacity to come here and start acting up after the little stunt you pulled today?”

“You’re the one that wanted me here, so I’m here. I didn’t say I’d be on my best behavior.”

Mrs. Harrington’s eyes go wide, taken aback as if she’d just been slapped. “What has gotten into you lately?”

Billy doesn’t miss the quick glance she gives him, but he’s not taking any responsibility for this. He’s just as uncomfortable with Steve’s behavior as she is. Would’ve found an excuse to stay home if he knew the night was gonna go like this.

“Maybe I’ve just finally grown sick of all the bullshit.” There’s a moment of pause where it’s just Steve and his mother trading glares, almost daring the other one to make the next move. But Mrs. Harrington, as fuming mad as she is, isn’t going to make a scene at her own party. “I gotta go take a piss,” Steve mutters, ending the conversation as he shoves past his mom and Billy to go find one of the eighteen bathrooms this place surely has.

Billy thinks about going after him, but feels kind of awkward under Mrs. Harrington’s gaze. Besides, maybe Steve just needs a cooldown period. Get himself together before rejoining the party and then they can avoid any more run-ins with his mother the rest of the night. Or they can just leave. That sounds good, too.

He’s regretting not going after Steve, though, when Mrs. Harrington turns to him and speaks. “I don’t know what this affect is you’ve had on my son, but-”

And Billy stops her right there, because for as much as he doesn’t want to cause trouble for himself, he’s also not going to accept blame for something that isn’t even remotely his fault. “With all due respect, ma’am, whatever problems Steve’s having, they existed long before I got here. Excuse me.” And with that, he dismisses himself from the conversation.

He finds himself at one of the many bars sprinkled around the party - finds one with a pretty female bartender he can flirt with to distract her from the fact he’s underage and hands him over a rum and Coke. It’s his first and last drink of the night. He’s gotta stay sober to deal with whatever mood Steve ends up in. Not that he’s not wishing to down a whole bottle of Jack right about now…

But, for however bad he thinks his night is going, a glimpse of Heather on the other side of the pool tells him maybe he’s not the one having the worst time here.

He’s never seen her look so distressed. She’s standing with Vicki, but a quick scan of the pool area reveals Robin off by the bushes, seemingly trying to occupy herself until Heather excuses herself from Vicki and joins her.

Robin’s got this sulky look to her, but she brightens up a little when Heather gives her attention, and soon they’re heading into the house together, leaving Vicki on her own. Billy can’t even begin to fathom what kind of plan Heather concocted to make this accidental threesome work for the evening, but he’s sure he’ll hear all about it later. Best he can hope for is Heather ending the night with all her limbs still intact.

His eyes drift around until he spots Tom and Janet tucked in a corner like it’s their own private room, holding hands and gazing at each other as they dance to the instrumental version of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. At least they’re having a nice night.

Seeing Tom and Janet coupled up only reminds him it’s been a while since he’s seen Steve, and he should probably go looking for him. Probably got lost in all these halls and rooms and space, like - honestly, how does one person need this much house?

But just as he finishes his glass and turns to leave, he nearly runs into a suddenly very happy, very giggly Steve.

“There you are!” Steve grins, immediately launching himself at Billy for a hug. “Was looking all over for you.”

“Here I am,” Billy deadpans.

The smell of alcohol is thick as Steve embraces him, and Billy knows it’s not just because they’re standing next to a bar.

“Mom’s not still around, is she?” Steve pulls back, but his hands slide to Billy’s waist.

“Uh, haven’t seen her…” Billy looks around quick before grabbing Steve’s wrists, trying to pry his grip from Billy’s jacket.

“Good! Now the real fun can begin.”

Steve’s trying to force Billy’s hips to sway in a playful gesture and leans in like he’s going for a kiss that Billy immediately jolts back from.

“What the fuck, Steve?” he whispers harshly, grabbing his boyfriend by the biceps and keeping him at a distance.

Steve just giggles some more. “Oh, what, now suddenly you don’t want to kiss me?”

“You’re drunk,” Billy says. A simple statement of fact.

“Yeah, well, it is a party. So let’s party.” Steve goes in again for a kiss, this time with the added motion of his hand reaching for Billy’s crotch, and Billy’s gotta grab hold of his wrist to stop him from groping him in front of everybody.

“Nope. Party’s over actually. We’re going.”

Billy tries to lead Steve out, but it’s not without a fight, because of course it isn’t. Steve’s pouting and complaining and trying to wriggle out of Billy’s grasp, and Billy would be two seconds away from just throwing him over his shoulder and hauling his ass out if he didn’t think it would only bring more attention to them.

It’s Steve’s ass he’s trying to save from public humiliation - and Mrs. Harrington’s wrath - but the idiot’s too drunk to see that. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even care, regardless.

“You’re so embarrassing!” Steve’s yelling at him as they make it to the sprawling driveway. “I’m not a child!” Which is funny, considering that’s exactly what he looks like as Billy pushes him into the passenger seat of the Camaro, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Billy mumbles, slamming the door maybe a little harder than necessary.

The drive back to Steve’s dad’s starts off silent, albeit a bit uncomfortable, but Billy will take discomfort over a fight, so, he keeps his mouth shut. At least until Steve’s reaching into his pants’ pocket and pulling out a flask to take a long pull from, and Billy promptly flips his shit.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he yells, glaring over at Steve between checking on the road before them.

Apparently the answer is yes.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill.” Steve rolls his eyes and goes to take another drink.

Billy reaches his arm out to grab the flask, causing the car to swerve as he does. He’s worried about Steve, yes, but he’s also concerned about the fact that if he’s caught with liquor in his car it’s right back to juvie for him.

He tells Steve as much in their struggle for the flask, but all arguments fall silent when the car is suddenly filled with flashing red and blue lights and the sound of a siren coming from behind.

“You have got to be fucking shitting me,” Billy groans. Lets Steve have his flask as he pulls over onto the side of the road. “Do not say a fucking word,” he hisses, watching in his rearview as the officer steps out of his car and heads over to them. Steve slips the flash back into his pants’ pocket, and Billy prays silently to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that the officer doesn’t take it upon himself to go snooping.

“There a problem, officer?” Billy keeps both hands on the wheel, trying to calm his racing heart and hopes he looks somewhat normal.

“I would say your driving just now is a big one,” the older man says, dips his head just enough to peer into the Camaro. “You boys wouldn’t happen to have been drinking tonight, would you?”

“No, sir.” Billy’s never been so grateful for a lack of alcohol consumption in his life. That peace, however, does not extend to Steve and whatever the fuck he was up to in his missing time at the part.

“You sure about that?”

Billy glances over to Steve who is now hunched over in his seat moaning and groaning and holding his stomach, and Billy doesn’t know if it’s genuine or not, but fuck it. He’s gotta roll with it.

“It’s, uh. Bad fish,” Billy lies. “Really disagreeing with him. Was just trying to get him home before any accidents happen, y’know? He’s really not feeling too hot.”

Steve groans again, laying it on a little thick, as far as Billy’s concerned. But it must do the trick, because after a moment of contemplation the officer taps the roof of the Camaro and says “Alright, you can get on your way. But be more careful before a real accident happens, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Billy doesn’t breathe again until the cop is back in his car and pulling away. And even then there’s no sense of relief, just a boiling anger of what this whole night has been.

Alone on the road, tucked between a cliff and the ocean, Billy storms out of the car. Marches around to the passenger side and yanks the door open, ignoring Steve’s inquisitions and shoves his hands into Steve’s pockets until he retrieves the flask that nearly got him sent back to fucking jail.

“What the hell are you doing, you maniac!” Steve’s shouting, trying to fight Billy off and grab his flask back, but he doesn’t have the speed or dexterity right now. He loses the battle and watches Billy fling his flask into the dark. Out of sight. Out of reach.

And Billy screams into the night, something deep and primal straight from his gut, before turning back to the car to a stunned and confused Steve still seated. A long familiar rage builds in Billy’s bones until it’s stretching his too-tight skin, and his only option left is to let it out before it eats him alive.

Old Billy would’ve grabbed Steve by the collar and dragged him out into the dirt until he started to feel some semblance of normalcy again. Billy-now grabs the handle of the car door instead. Uses it as leverage to slam the door over and over and over again until Steve’s screaming “Stop it! You’re scaring me!”

“Well you’re scaring me!” Billy roars, slamming the door one final time before backing away.

He sees the fear written all over Steve’s face, and Billy’s stomach rolls at the flashbacks of his own mother’s face at the wrong end of one of Neil’s tyrades. And Billy can tell himself this is different, that his anger is justified. But then why does it all feel the same?

He needs a moment to breathe, to calm down his racing heart and shaking hands. Paces around the dirt trying to catch his breath until he hears the timid click of a car door opening and closing and Steve’s cautious footsteps coming closer.

He doesn’t get too close. Still leaves Billy with enough space to not feel suffocated. Or maybe he’s still just scared.

Steve doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with his arms holding himself watching Billy. Waiting.

Billy stops his pacing and looks up at the stars, more visible out here by the ocean, tucked away from the noise of the city. He’s looking for answers to a question he doesn’t even know to ask. It’s useless.

“I don’t-” He pauses, runs his hands over his face in desperation. Exasperation. “I’m out of my depth here, man. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Steve says indignantly.

“Well, you need someone’s help. This shit isn’t normal, Steve! I thought after Mexico-”

“Will everyone stop bringing up Mexico!” Steve shouts, hands flying out. “Mexico was an accident! It wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“But it did!” Billy shouts back. “That’s the whole point! Accidents are gonna keep happening, and I’m not always gonna be there when they do!” There’s a manic edge to Billy’s words the longer he thinks about Steve passed out in that alley in Tijuana and the potential for it happening again, only worse.

He’s used to being the one with all the problems. That’s the role Billy’s made for himself, and he knows how to play it well. The shoe being on the other foot… he doesn’t know how to deal with that shit. Scares the fuck out of him.

“You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. Not my goddamn babysitter,” Steve spits, voice like venom shooting straight through Billy’s chest.

“Yeah, well, the lines are getting real fucking blurred these days.”

Steve huffs behind him, kicking his feet in the dirt.

Billy rubs rough hands over his face, his fingers flexing for a cigarette.

There’s been a shift, he can feel it. Doesn’t know where the fuck it leaves them, but it’s there, unquestionable.

“Just get in the car,” Billy sighs, walking past Steve and around the front of the Camaro. “I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t wait to see if Steve follows him because he knows he will. Bastard may be stubborn, but not enough to walk home from here this late at night.

Sure enough, the passenger door clicks with a shut just as Billy’s revving up the engine, and he hardly waits for Steve to be settled before he’s peeling out of there with his foot pressed to the floor.

The drive to Steve’s dad’s is silent for the second time that day.

Steve doesn’t offer so much as a goodbye when they pull up to the condo. Hardly even waits for the car to come to a stop before he’s jumping out and slamming the door behind him, like Billy’s the problem tonight.

Makes it easier for Billy to speed out of the parking lot and not look back, at least.

The lights are out in the Holloway mansion when he returns. Figures they must still be at the party, which is fine by him. He’s going straight to the poolhouse, anyway.

He strips off his shirt and kicks off his shoes, leaving them in a pile on the floor as he continues on towards his bed, promptly falling face first once his shins hit the mattress.

On the list of sucky Christmas debacles of his life, tonight doesn’t even crack the top ten. Still, he can’t help but feel more than a little moody about it. He had a good thing going with Steve, despite whatever speed bumps they might have encountered. The thing was, Billy was willing to push through it. Because, God help him, he liked the guy. A lot. But tonight has him realizing maybe that’s not enough. He can only help so much when Steve’s not willing to help himself.

Maybe Steve just doesn’t care about this as much as Billy does. Why would he? Steve’s the hot shot in this town. Can get anybody he wants. Billy was just the shiny new toy. A little rebellious streak for Steve to go on to piss off his parents. Of course this was never meant to be anything serious.

Billy’s given about two minutes of sulking into his pillow before he hears the door of the pool house click open, followed by a pattering of feet and a dip in the bed beside him.

“Tonight has been the worst night of my life,” Heather groans.

Billy looks up and over his shoulder to find her laying beside him - still in her dress - on her back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Can’t be any worse than mine,” Billy responds, turning on his back to match her pose.

“I had not one, but two-” Heather holds up her fingers for emphasis, “-girls dump me in the span of thirty seconds and basically tell me I’m a piece of shit.”

“I got pulled over by a cop and could’ve been sent back to juvie because Steve decided to get plastered and then we got into a huge fight on the side of the road over it and now I don’t even know if we’re speaking.”

He looks over at Heather who’s looking over at him, blinking, before she turns back to look at the ceiling. “Wow, okay, you win.”

Billy huffs at the sentiment.

“It is a sad, cruel world when two fine specimens such as ourselves have such pathetic love lives.”

“Yeah, well-” Billy flicks the back of Heather’s hand where it rests on the mattress between them. “At least we’re sad sacks together, right?”

He regrets his cheesy display of emotion instantly as Heather turns to face him, eyes wide and grin twice the size of her face. “See, I knew there was a heart under that icy bimbo exterior!”

She puts her hand to his chest and shoves him, and there’s a half a second where Billy contemplates putting her in a headlock and giving her a good ol’ fashioned noogie. Opts instead for a simple quick pinch of her nose that has her slapping his hand away, and they’re both laughing.

When the silliness and the banter dies down, Heather rolls onto her side, tucking her hands under her head where they rest on a pillow. There’s still a faint trace of the warmth from moments ago, but her expression has grown more somber in the silence that’s followed.

“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

Billy used to consider himself something of a lone wolf. Still does, most days. But it’s been getting harder to identify as such with the Holloways around - especially Heather - never letting him wallow in his sadness by himself for too long.

After months of being taken under their wing he still doesn’t know how to feel about it. But he finds himself fighting it less and less every time opportunity presents itself. And the crazy part is he doesn’t even seem to mind it all that much.

“Just don’t hog the blankets.”

“You should be more worried about the fact I like to cuddle in my sleep,” Heather teases.

He groans about it, makes some wisecrack about pushing her off the bed if she tries it, but. He knows that’s another thing he doesn’t mind so much, either.

The holidays are hectic, but not in the way Billy’s used to.

Billy’s used to being yelled at to grab the tree out of the shed so Susan can start her decorating. Billy’s used to walking on eggshells because Neil’s boss is breathing down his neck about end of the year quotas, and somehow Billy’s the one who has to suffer the consequences if Neil doesn’t reach them. Billy’s used to prepping himself for a sloppier Neil because the holidays are the one time of year he actually allows himself to get drunk, and Billy’s gotta be careful not to get in his way.

With the Holloways it’s easier. Janet is kind of a stickler for tradition and making sure everything’s in its right place - has a lot of opinions about color schemes and which of the fifteen tiny trees goes on which end table in which room (Billy’s even learned what a Hanukkah bush is, and has made his fair few jokes about it to Heather in private), but. Billy’s no longer worried about getting his ass kicked if he puts the wrong placemats down, so there’s that.

There’s still a few days before Hanukkah starts, and then the fun really begins. Or so he’s told. Heather’s been teaching him the blessings so he doesn’t feel like a complete outcast, and he thinks he’s got most of it down pat. Janet’s even trusted him enough to send him grocery shopping (well, she’s trusted him enough to send him out with a short list of baking ingredients, and given how controlling she’s been about planning the holiday menu he figures that’s gotta count for something.)

He’s kind of just been staying out of everyone’s hair otherwise. They’ve got their whole routine down to a science, and Billy feels like he’ll just be getting in their way if he steps in. Not that he really wants to. His quota for holiday fun starts and ends with Halloween - with maybe some room for Fourth of July - he can’t say no to a good pool party and sparklers.

Heather’s already made him watch It’s A Wonderful Life and White Christmas and complained to him about how there’s no Hanukkah movies which really throws a wrench in her movie marathon plans every year, but she is going to make him watch Yentl at some point so. Yippee.

But that’ll be a worry for later. Right now he’s sitting by the pool thinking about Max, of all people.

They hadn’t exactly been anything near what Billy would label as close, but. There was something about their few Christmases together that would bring them together. Billy would usually take her out to play with whatever new toy she had gotten, and he would say it was because he just wanted an excuse to get away from Neil - which wasn’t entirely a lie - but he had enjoyed himself hanging out with Max, too.

He remembers the year Susan had bought her her first grown up skateboard, no more of the little kid shit. And Billy had stolen it out from under her once they were out on the empty street in front of their house and showed her a few tricks (skateboarding had never really been Billy’s thing, but he was athletic enough to work his way around a board and impress Max with his moves.)

Of course, she had bitched and moaned until he gave it back to her, but she was also quick to try for herself all the moves she’d just watched Billy do.

He thinks about the note she left under his mattress. How she cared enough to even offer a small apology for something she couldn’t control. He fucking misses her, which is maybe the biggest shock to his system out of everything that’s gone down. He wishes he could call her, wishes he had any way of knowing she was okay.

“Billy! There you are!” Tom’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, standing in the doorway. “We need you in here, c’mon.” He waves Billy over before disappearing into the living room.

Billy figures there’s more decorations to be put up, so he’s confused when he steps into the house and sees Janet and Heather sitting in front of the fireplace while Tom situates a camera on a stand pointed at them.

“Billy, come here!” Heather beams, reaching her arm out towards him. “You’re sitting next to me.” Heather pulls him down once he’s within reach, her mom on her other side.

“What’re we doing?” he mumbles, eyeing the camera.

“Christmas portrait, duh,” Heather answers, like it should’ve been so obvious.

Billy immediately feels uncomfortable “If this is a family thing then I don’t need to be here-” He tries to get up, but Heather just pulls him back down. She’s strong for being such a little thing.

“Hogwash!” Tom says from behind the camera. “You’re living in this house, you’re family.”

“Here you go, dear.” Janet reaches over Heather to hand Billy off a Santa hat, in blue. One he’s realizing matches with the ones Janet and Heather go to put on, the one Tom’s already got on his head.

Heather ends up shoving it on his head for him, definitely fucking up his hair, but he’s still too lost in the idea of being part of family that he can’t even bring himself to complain about it.

“Alright, everything’s set!” Tom calls before clicking one last button on the camera. “Everyone get into position, quick!”

He hurries over to take his place beside his wife, and Janet and Heather both perk up to be photo-ready, hats in place and bright smiles on their faces.

“Say ‘Merry Chrismukkah!’” Heather commands.

The Holloways all sing out in unison, and Billy can’t help it. There’s a warm feeling filling his chest and a shy smirk slipping onto his lips because he feels it. Family. How the hell he ended up here, he’ll never know. But he’s glad he did.

“Merry Chrismukkah,” he mutters under his breath.

The flash goes off.

The picture gets developed and framed, hung on the fireplace as the centerpiece amongst garland and twinkling lights. Billy can’t help but smile to himself every time he walks past it.