Work Text:
It’s cold when Billy wakes up.
He reaches over, but the space next to him in his bed is already empty, only a faint trace of heat remains. His arm sits there, wanting. Somehow, he finds the strength to drag himself out from under the covers.
He flinches as his feet hit the hardwood floor below him, the chill climbing its way up through his legs. He pads over to the bathroom, flipping the light on. The reflection looking back at him is rough. Dark circles mar his face, and patchy scruff lines his jaw. He goes to grab his razor, but groans as he remembers he broke the last one, and he was supposed to stop at the store on his way home yesterday to pick up another.
He climbs into the shower, and lukewarm water pricks at his skin. He uses the shampoo that isn’t his, just for the bit of comfort that the familiar scent brings.
He towels off, and haphazardly tosses on his mechanic slops. They cling slightly to his damp skin, and it feels tight. A little claustrophobic, but he continues through his morning routine.
There’s coffee in a thermos already waiting for him on the counter as he enters the kitchen. He picks it up, and takes a sip of the bitter beverage. As he lifts it to his lips, a note falls from the bottom. He picks it up from where it fell, scanning over the words.
See you tonight, don’t wait up. Love you.
~S
He sighs, and slips the note into his coverall pocket. He walks over to the fridge, examining the calendar stuck to the freezer door. He sees his shift for today. Eight to five, just like it always is, six days a week. He sees Steve’s.
Seven to four. Five to close.
Another day in what seems to be weeks where he probably won’t get to see his boyfriend awake. They need the money, sure, but… Fuck, if only today they’d have a break. He rips open the fridge door, and retrieves his sack lunch before heading out.
~~~
The drive to work is cold. Damp. A haze has settled over the bay area, and it creeps into every nook and cranny. Everyone is in a bitchy mood, and their cars that weren’t made for the increasingly colder California winters are even bitchier. Billy has spent most of his morning trying to diagnose groans and squeaks that conveniently vanish as the cars enter the warm shop.
He’s currently stuck with his head under the hood of an Oldsmobile, which he’d wish the owner would just scrap. Repeat customer. Every time it gets cold, there’s a shake. A rattle. No roll where there should be. He’s listening for some high pitch ringing that he’s positive is the old man’s tinnitus acting up, but he pretends to hear it anyways. He replaces a gasket, and the old man smiles in satisfaction after Billy turns the car over.
He sends his client back to the main office while he closes the car up. As he drives it out of the garage, he catches his boss, Earl, flipping over the “open” sign on the front door. He gladly hops out of the Oldsmobile, flipping his customer the keys, before slamming both large garage doors shut.
After he cleans himself up, he heads into the break room, where Earl and his old broad are already whispering and giggling over their hot meals. Billy grabs the brown paper bag out of the mini fridge, and pulls a chair up to the table. He rips the bag open and digs his sandwich out of its plastic wrap prison. He bites into it. It’s simple, ham and cheese. Pepper jack, to be exact, because he needs a little spice to deal with the shitty white bread.
He’s halfway through munching on his third celery slice when he notices it’s gone quiet. He looks over to Earl and Diane. They’re looking between each other, and back to him.
“Well, go on, ask him.”
“If you want to know if I’ll stay late, I won’t. Don’t care if it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“No, no, it’s not that.” Earl removes his cap, using it to scratch at his receding hairline. “Just wanted to know if, uh, you had any plans.”
“Plans?”
“You know,” Earl clears his throat. “With your, uh…”
“Boyfriend. You’re not gonna fucking explode if you say it.” Billy rolls his eyes. The old man is great. Really. Didn’t fire Billy when Diane caught him and Steve making out in his Camaro in the parking lot after a long shift. Even had them over for Christmas when the weather was too bad to drive back to Hawkins. It’s been over a year though, could be a little less awkward about it, for both their sake’s.
“Yeah, yer boyfriend. Well?”
“No.”
“No plans?!” Diane gasps, and her glasses jostle from where they sit in her poofy white hair. “Well, that doesn’t sound like Steven.”
Billy shrugs his shoulders. “We’re both working. Living around here isn’t cheap, and god knows I don’t get paid enough to afford a house.”
Earl looks at him sheepishly, but Billy just snickers as he takes a drink of water. He continues eating his lunch while Diane lobbies with her husband to give him a raise, then devolves into all the Valentine’s Day surprises Earl did for her when they were in their twenties.
The rest of his shift goes a bit smoother than the morning did. Only a few customers with real problems come in that he’s actually able to fix. It feels good to do some real work for a change. He even has time to put an hour into Steve’s Beemer that quit out on him a couple weeks ago between his customers.
It’s just shy of five when Earl pops his head out from under a convertible to tell Billy to take a hike, kicking him out for the day. He shoves a twenty into Billy’s hand as he leaves the shop, and Diane gives him a hug, wiping a smudge from his cheek before sending him on his way with some roses she plucked from the bouquet Earl brought in that morning.
The drive home is a bit cheerier. The sun is doing its best to fight through the dense blanket of clouds, casting the streets in a pale orange light instead of lifeless grey.
Billy makes a pit stop into a nearby Tiendita. He strolls towards the back of the store to order food, knowing he’s on his own for dinner tonight. He gets some tacos with extra jalapeños, that way Steve won’t think of taking a bite out of them when he gets home. As he waits for his food to be made, he glances around at the displays.
He scoffs, as a small set of brown boxes on an end cap catch his eye. It’s no five course meal, but he knows they’ll more than do. Billy checks out, tacos and a box of offensive processed snacks, and a razor in hand before he heads back home.
~~~
By the time Billy pulls into their garage, he’s wiped. He leaves his work boots outside, lest he wake up to a scathing note again. When he pushes the door open, he swears he smells food already wafting out from the kitchen. After taking a couple more steps inside, he can hear music. Steve must’ve swung home for lunch and forgot to turn the stereo off.
He heads into their apartment, stopping at the pantry to tuck away Steve’s surprise, before turning to set his dinner on the table. He stops, however, when he notices the Ezno’s takeout bag already sitting there. He looks inside, noting the mouth water smell coming from within.
“Hey! No peeking!”
Billy jumps. “Shit! Steve?!”
“The one and only.” He crosses through the room, planting a kiss on Billy’s lips. He’s wrapped in sweatpants, and a woolen sweater. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Billy leans back in to chase after one more kiss. “Thought you closed?”
“Yeah, well, they overstaffed today. I was already halfway out the door before they asked if anyone wanted to leave. What’s that?” Steve motions to the bag in Billy’s hand.
“My dinner. What’s that?” He nods to the bag on the table.
“Our dinner.”
“Oh. Well, good thing I’m hungry.”
“Nah-ah-ah.” Steve swipes the bag from Billy’s hand. “I had to call in a favor with Eddie to get that food. You can eat your jalapeño-filled tacos for lunch tomorrow.”
Billy just smirks, his attention turning back to the bag on their table.
“Man, really hope that dolt doesn’t get picked up by an agency any time soon, definitely gonna miss his cooking.” Billy goes to open the bag again before his hand is swatted. “Hey!”
“Nope. You stink, and you have grease on your clothes. Go clean up.”
“Whatever.” But Billy listens, taking the quickest shower of his life, half because he’s starving, half because he just wants to spend some time with Steve.
Billy walks back into their kitchen, his damp curls sit against his Hawkins High basketball sweatshirt. The food is missing from the counter, but the sliding glass door to their balcony is open.
Billy heads through and walks out to see Steve, leaning against the banister. A pair of steaks, asparagus, and the most sinful, garlic laden mashed potatoes are plated on their small outdoor table, sitting next to a couple of his favorite, artisanal beers from the local brewery. The few roses that Diane sent him home with are propped in a tall, plastic Giant's cup between the plates.
He walks up to Steve, and wraps his arms around his waist. He sets his chin on Steve’s shoulder, following his gaze. The sun has succeeded in its mission, just breaking through the clouds as it begins to set. In the distance, through the gaps in buildings, they can see it sitting just over the beach. The smell of salt spray barely wafts around them, fighting against the scent of their food.
Billy shivers as a breeze ghosts over them.
“Such a wuss.”
“Fuck off,” he says, lacking any bite. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day." Steve leans to the side, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Better eat before it gets colder than you.” Steve jabs him in the stomach with an elbow, and Billy retaliates with tickling his sides, and nipping his neck.
“Keep up those comments and no dessert for you.”
“Oh, god, trust me, I wish I had the energy for that, but I can’t. Not tonight.” Steve sits down, cracking open their beers.
“Not what I meant, but, damn.” Billy sits down, beginning to dig into their food.
“What, then?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Billy…” Steve squares him with a look.
“Eat your steak, it's getting cold," he says around a bite of potatoes.
“What did you get?!”
“Nothing.”
Steve gets up from his seat, and heads into their apartment. “You know I hate when you do that!” He calls back from inside. Billy can hear the squeak of the fridge door.
“Not in there!” He yells.
“Where is it then?!”
“Don’t know!”
He hears the freezer door open, but he knows the only things in there are some frozen pizzas and a half empty bottle of vodka. The pantry door opens next, and Billy waits with bated breath. Seconds feel like hours before a gasp rips through the evening air. In a blur, Steve appears back in the doorway with the small, brown box in hand.
“Where the hell did you find Boppers?!”
Yeah, he is soo getting laid tonight.