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It’s Steve’s birthday in two weeks and to his surprise, thirty is actually looking pretty fucking good.
Seventeen year old Steve would have never thought it, but he and Billy had left Hawkins almost eight years ago now after the Upside Down reared it’s nasty head for the last time and life had been pretty much smooth sailing ever since.
They’d both bounced around jobs at first before Steve found his calling in coaching on the weekends and with Billy’s encouragement he took the leap. Steve started taking night classes to get into teaching and now he has a job that he loves with a class of second grade kids who look forward to seeing him every day.
Seventeen year old Steve wouldn’t have believed that either.
It had taken a bit longer for Billy to find his thing.
Steve had taken to calling him Barbie because like her, Billy had done everything. He’d worked every form of retail there was, he’d slung coffee, there had been numerous stints in bars, and he’d worked as a personal trainer and swimming teacher for a bit. Billy had even worked in a sex shop at one point though Steve doubts there’s a Barbie for that.
Steve had really thought the garage was the one that would stick, Billy liked it there and had managed to stick it out for eight months. That was before the fire of course.
The fucking fire that broke out in the garage during one of Billy’s shifts, thankfully everyone had gotten out okay. Everyone except Missy, the stray cat who had made the garage her home and who the guys kept around as an unofficial mascot.
And of course, it had been Steve’s idiot who ran back into a literal fire for the damn cat, finding her under one of the cars being worked on and earning himself a scolding when the firefighters arrived.
Billy had come home to him that day with two things. The cat, (who still doesn’t like Steve) and an idea for another career change.
Steve had mixed feelings about it at first. Sure, he more than appreciated the uniform and the way that Billy bulked up once he’d started his training but he’d already almost lost Billy once and the idea of it happening again made Steve want to scream.
A few months into it, once Billy started being sent out on jobs, he’d sat Steve down, making sure he knew where all the important paperwork was and what to do with it. The reality of what he was preparing Steve for hitting like a rock sitting uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.
Thankfully that was five years ago now, there hasn’t been an incident and life has been better than Steve ever thought it could be.
He still worries sometimes, when Billy’s home later than he said he would be or if he hasn’t had a chance to return a call, and Steve would be a liar if he doesn’t sometimes wish that Billy had picked any other fucking profession but he can shoulder that worry when in exchange he finally gets to watch his boyfriend’s eyes light up in pride when talking about his job.
***
It’s winter break which means no classes for Steve and with Billy working overtime, Steve had ensured his plans for the evening included a distinct lack of leaving the little nest he’d built for himself on the sofa. Missy had even deigned to sit with him for once which was a further incentive not to move, Steve’s determined to have this cat at least tolerate him one day.
He’s six episodes deep into a Friends marathon on the VHS that Steve had painstakingly put together last month - the one that Billy claims he’ll never willingly watch yet somehow the tape needed rewinding tonight – when the phone starts to ring. Steve groans and climbs to his feet, ignoring the hiss of displeasure that Missy lets out and the way she makes sure to bat Steve in the face with her tail on her way off the sofa.
“Hello?” Steve says distractedly, one eye still on the TV.
“Is that you Harrington?” The voice on the other end of the phone asks and Steve’s heart all but drops out of his ass when he realises it’s Chief Reynolds, Billy’s boss. “It’s about Billy.”
Steve had known a call like this was always a possibility, Billy runs into burning buildings for a living for fuck’s sake but he’s not ready.
He never could have been ready for it, Steve’s heard the horror stories, they both have. People leaving for work in the morning and never coming home and fuck the last thing he’d said to Billy was a shitty little comment and suddenly, Steve can hardly breathe.
They’d had a little spat this morning, nothing major just that Billy was being surlier than usual, and Steve wasn’t fully awake enough to not snap back and tell him to fix his fucking attitude before he got home.
Swallowing the bile in his throat, Steve gives in to the jelly that his legs have become and slides to the floor, phone still gripped in his hand. Reynolds has been talking this whole time, but the sound of his gruff voice hadn’t managed to break through the roar in Steve’s ears, his brain too busy imagining every worst case scenario there is.
“So, yeah Steve, I need you to get down here as quickly as you can.” The Chief is saying when Steve forces himself to listen to the man’s words.
“To the hospital?” Steve asks, voice cracking.
“What? No kid, Billy’s got the flu or some shit, he looks like shit, burning up and fucking boohooing about it all over my station but he ‘doesn’t want to let the guys down.’ Idiot. Come and get your boy before I put him out of his misery myself.”
***
Steve drives at a speed that he’d usually chastise Billy for on his way across town to the firehouse, thanking his lucky stars that somehow he hasn’t been pulled over. He knows he’s being a bit silly, Reynolds said Billy is fine, but Steve can’t shake the wild panic that phone call made him feel and he desperately needs to see Billy and make sure of it for himself.
He doesn’t even bother to lock his doors after Steve speeds into the station’s carpark like a bat out of hell. Embarrassingly, Steve’s gasping for breath by the time he finds someone on the floor and manages to ask about Billy around his panting breaths, the guy points him in the direction of a room in the back while Steve considers the miserable idea of joining Billy with his morning workouts.
The Chief is standing outside what Steve assumes is his office, arms crossed and looking slightly murderous when he catches Steve’s eye.
“Fucking hell, thank God. If I had to listen to his bitching for five more minutes, I was going to lose my mind.” Reynolds grumbles whilst opening the door.
Steve smirks, Reynolds is a lot of things, and a shitty liar is apparently one of them. “You’re worried about him.”
The Chief huffs and Steve lets out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding when he sees him. Billy, and only looking a little worse for wear, his usual tan face pale and flush cheeked but he’s okay. Alive.
Billy groans in frustration as soon as he spots Steve. “Seriously? He dragged you all the way down here?”
“Had to call in the big guns,” Steve tries to joke but the slight tremble in his voice betrays him and he gives in to his desperate need to wrap his arms around Billy and never let go. “Phone call scared the shit out of me B.”
“Which is what I would have told this asshole,” Billy glares at the Chief between coughs. “If he’d bothered to loop me in on his plans.”
Steve sighs a breath of relief into Billy’s curls. “My big strong firefighter is sick huh? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a stupid cold or something.”
Reynolds scoffs. “Get him home Harrington. Billy, I don’t want to see your face around here until you’re better.” Billy opens his mouth to interject but the Chief continues, “and that’s an order kid.”
At that, Steve tugs Billy out of the firehouse by his hand, hoping Billy’s too groggy to notice that some of the guys are hiding their smiles behind their hands. Most of the guys in Billy’s crew have been fine about their relationship, it’s 1997 for fuck’s sake. Only a few have been assholes about it over the years, but Billy’s always had the backing of the Chief whose wing he was swiftly taken under after his first few days at the station.
Steve manoeuvres a shivering Billy into the passenger seat and settles in for the short drive home. Of course, he’d never want Billy to be sick but he’s always clingy and adorable and dramatic when he is and Steve can’t even lie and say he isn’t looking forward to the upcoming days of extensive coddling.
This part is Steve’s favourite.
***
“Alright, get your fine ass in the shower.” Steve shuts the door behind them and drops his keys in the little dish that Max made them for Christmas last year. “I’m making veggie soup.”
“’m not hungry. My stomach hurts.” Billy whines, tipping forward to curl against Steve’s chest. “I feel like shit Steve.”
“Okay babe,” Steve soothes, endlessly happy that Billy doesn’t put up a fight these days and presses a kiss to Billy’s burning forehead. “Tea then? With honey for your throat?”
Billy nods and drags himself rather pathetically to the bathroom while Steve sets about making a pot of tea, grimacing at the coughing fit he can just about hear over the sound of the shower spray. Steve’s almost done with the tea when Billy returns looking soft and sleepy in an old grey hoody and a pair of comfy, well-worn basketball shorts.
“Cough medicines in the fridge babe.” Steve says, wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist from behind. “Missy sat with me today.”
“She did?” Billy rasps, surprise colouring his tone as he locates the cough syrup. “Maybe she’s finally coming around.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Steve says, leading Billy to the sofa and pushing him into his earlier crafted nest of blankets. “You’re taking the rest of the week off work. No ifs no buts.” Steve laughs at Billy’s exaggerated pout. “Don’t look at me like that either, you need to get better.”
Billy sighs but nods his acceptance, Steve can be stubborn when he wants to be and Billy’s not really in a place to argue after having been basically kicked out of his place of work.
“Good,” Steve says, dropping himself onto the couch then crawling up Billy’s chest to cuddle in there. “Gimme a kiss.”
Billy rolls his eyes and says, voice hoarse, “I’m sick Stevie, you’re going to get sick too.”
“Yeah, and I’m probably going to end up with it anyway,” Steve argues. “And do I need to remind you that I thought you were fucking dead a few hours ago, so gimme a damn smooch asshole.”
Steve hums in relief when Billy’s soft lips meet his own, he’s pretty sure he’ll never get tired of kissing Billy. And when Billy breaks the kiss to cough, fucking directly in Steve’s face, it’s only a sign of how much they’ve grown together because Steve only gazes fondly at the snotty and sweaty form of the man underneath him, whose germs are now making a home on Steve’s face, and he can only think of one thing.
“I love you.”