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1
No matter how hard he tries, Steve can’t wrap his head around the fact that Eddie and Billy have become friends.
And, like, okay. There’s a lot of shit Steve doesn’t understand, things like advanced algebra. Or even most of basic algebra, really. Or how Billy didn’t actually die during the fight at Starcourt Mall, and eventually turned up again alive in the Upside Down. Or how the rest of them managed to survive fighting Vecna. Or how no one else in Hawkins outside of their little group seems to realize what a hellhole their town is, or how the government keeps covering up all the weird stuff constantly going down, or—
So, yeah.
There’s so much that Steve doesn’t get, but most of that stuff? It doesn’t bother him. He’s finished high school, what the hell does he need math with shapes and letters for, anyway? And who cares that most of the people he knows should’ve died several times over by now? Steve’s just happy they’re all still here and alive.
Eddie and Billy, though?
Something about them does bother Steve, and he just can’t put his finger on what, exactly, it is. And, even more frustratingly, no one else seems to be surprised by their friendship at all, which just annoys Steve even more. Because, sure, they’ve all grown to be something of a dysfunctional sort of family just by virtue of going through what they’ve been through together, but Eddie and Billy? They’ve taken it to a whole different level, somehow.
And that’s okay, that’s fine, they’re allowed to be friends, why wouldn’t they be? But it’s just come so out of left field, and no one else seems to notice, and it’s honestly driving Steve up the damn wall.
Because Eddie and Billy are just such different people, and Steve can’t, for the life of him, figure out how they fit together. And maybe it isn’t obvious to anyone outside their group, because they do dress pretty much the same, and they do have an almost identical taste in music, and they look like they run in the same circles, but if you actually get to know them? Then it becomes really clear, really quickly that that’s where the similarities end.
Like, for example, Billy is smart. Academically gifted, so much so that he’s somehow managed to graduate with near perfect grades after going missing and being presumed dead for more than half a year. While Eddie was held back twice and couldn’t give less of a shit about school if he tried, which Steve can absolutely sympathize with. And then Eddie is all artsy and shit, will happily sit and write up elaborate adventures or build ridiculously realistic looking set pieces for hours on end, and even though heavy metal still isn’t Steve’s kind of music, he can recognize that Eddie’s a fucking genius with an electric guitar. Billy, though? Steve’s seen him draw up directions for Max, once, and to say they’d barely been legible would be a huge understatement.
And, of course, Steve had already known, from playing on a team with him, that Billy’s athletic and loves being active. Eddie, though, not so much. Steve doesn’t know anyone who trips over their own feet more often than Eddie does. The one time the three of them had tried shooting some hoops together, Eddie’d ended up with a bloody nose and a black eye, both courtesy of his own clumsiness.
And Eddie is always joking around and quick to laugh, and while Billy’s mellowed considerably during what they’ve all come to call his time away, he’s still surly and prone to snapping at people.
By all accounts, the two of them shouldn’t get along, but, somehow, they truly, genuinely do.
“—and that’s pretty much all there is to it, you know?”
The question, directed at him and Billy, has Steve blink himself back out of his swirling thoughts. He squints at the table—at the dice with too many sides, the maps, the figurines—and yeah, no. He has absolutely no idea what Eddie’s been trying to explain to them for the last however many minutes, but even if he had been listening, Steve’s pretty sure he still wouldn’t get it, anyway.
He chances a subtle glance at Billy out of the corner of his eye, and is relieved to find him frowning, looking just as clueless.
“Uhm. Yeah, sure,” Steve offers lamely, because even if he still hasn’t got any idea how to play their nerdy game, he can at least be nice about it and pretend. At the exact same moment, though, Billy snorts and mutters, “Nope.”
Mike and Dustin groan dramatically. Lucas drops his face into his hands. Will looks like he’s trying to hold back laughter. And Eddie just rolls his eyes, and flops back against the couch, flipping them both off. “Fuck you, you guys are useless.”
Billy kicks at his feet under the coffee table, which has Dustin dive forward to rescue something that looks like a tower made of bones from falling over. He glares at Billy. Billy bares his teeth at him.
“Sorry, man,” Steve says sheepishly, with a shrug. “It’s not really my thing, you know?”
Dustin focuses his glare on Steve instead. “It’s my turn to choose this week. And I chose this, so you better step it up, Steven.”
Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Jeez, all right, man. Calm down.”
He grunts in surprise when Billy, not bothering to hold back any of his weight, uses Steve’s shoulder to heave himself up. “I need to be drunker if we’re doing this,” he announces as he clambers over Steve’s legs, kicking him in the shin with an entirely insincere, “Oops, my bad.”
“Asshole,” Steve hisses, swiping at him, which earns him several outraged shouts of, “Watch out!” when he sways too close to the coffee table.
Billy smirks at him over his shoulder on his way out of the room.
“Okay!” Eddie claps his hands together. “Let’s start over!”
Steve sighs. Next time, he’s going to the mall with Robin, Max and El.
Billy returns a couple of minutes of talk about something called hit points later, with two uncapped beers in one hand, and a plate with a sandwich in the other. He nudges his foot into Steve’s hip none too gently, until Steve huffs and shuffles over so Billy can squeeze in between him and Eddie. He hands one of the beers off to Eddie, and balances the plate on both their knees where their legs are touching.
“Thanks.” Eddie smiles around a sip of beer, then grabs one half of the sandwich. “Did you—”
“No tomatoes, yeah,” Billy says, and jams most of his half of the sandwich into his mouth. “I’member.”
Steve wrinkles his nose at him. In return, Billy grins at him, all teeth and partially chewed bread.
“Can I have a sandwich?” Dustin pipes up, turning pleading eyes on Steve. “I’m starving over here.”
Steve arches a brow at him. “You know where the kitchen is, Henderson.”
“Wow.” Dustin shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “I am a guest in this house. You’re a terrible host.”
“You invited yourself over,” Steve points out, and reaches over to pull Dustin’s hat down over his eyes, just because he can. “You can make your own damn sandwich.”
“We could order pizza?” Mike speaks up hopefully, over Dustin’s outraged spluttering, to which everyone else nods along enthusiastically.
Steve pretends to consider this, as if he himself hasn’t been thinking more about food than their game for at least the last half hour. “Sure, if you have the money for pizza.”
“Steve,” Dustin whines, and Will pouts, and asks sweetly, “Please, Steve?”
It’s Eddie, though, who seals the deal, by mouthing from behind his bottle so that the kids won’t see, “I brought weed. For later.”
Steve relents. The, “Okay, fine,” has barely left his mouth before the kids erupt into cheers and jump up to race for the phone. Steve uses the momentary chaos to pick up Billy’s beer from where he’s put it down by his side, and takes a few big gulps. Serves Billy right for not getting him another one.
And then he yelps, and spills most of what’s left of it down his front when Billy decides to tackle him to the floor. They’re pretty evenly matched, usually, but Billy’s got the element of surprise on his side, and the advantage of landing on top of Steve. They wrestle for a few moments, before Billy suddenly swears and flinches, rolling halfway off of Steve.
“Fuck you, Munson,” he hisses at Eddie, who’s got a hold of one of Billy’s feet. And is tickling him, off all things, a shit-eating grin on his face as he rubs his fingers over the sole of Billy’s socked foot.
“Didn’t know you were ticklish,” Steve teases gleefully, which turns out to be a mistake, because it gives Billy the idea to shove his own hands under Steve’s shirt, heading right for his ribs. “Hey, no, come on, Hargrove, that’s not—hey, fuck, stop it, you absolute fucker!”
Steve, trying to squirm away from Billy’s assault, shoves his knees into Billy’s chest, which makes Billy flail and kick his legs. That’s enough to tip Eddie forward with a surprised, “Oh, shit!” and come crashing down all over both of them.
They end up in a panting heap of limbs, with Eddie laughing breathlessly into Steve’s neck, and Steve unable to stop his hiccuping giggles around his mouthful of Eddie’s hair. Billy is almost quiet, but Steve can feel him smile where his face has ended up being pressed against Steve’s shoulder.
Closing his eyes, still trying to catch his breath, Steve allows himself to go limp. Billy and Eddie are heavy, the floor is anything but comfortable, and someone’s knee is digging into his bladder, but he’s also warm and a little tipsy, and feeling kind of good, in a weird, tingly way.
“—39.99 sounds awesome! And how big are those Jumbo Meals? How many do you think we’ll need for—”
“Dustin!” Steve yells, despairing, which has Eddie start cackling again, but also makes him move away slightly, so Steve can slip out from under Billy to stand up. “Dustin, give me the phone! Right now!”
2
Seeing Nancy and Jonathan again is super awkward.
And it’s not even Steve’s fault, at least not entirely. Yeah, there was that whole thing between him and Nancy where they were playing will-they-won’t-they, again, for a while, but that had fizzled out pretty damn quickly as soon as they hadn’t been in mortal danger anymore. Now, granted, they haven’t exactly talked about it since, but Steve honestly doesn’t think they have to. There will probably always be some lingering feelings between the two of them, but that doesn’t mean those have to be romantic or anything like that. Like, who doesn’t think of their first real relationship every now and again, right?
Steve likes Nancy, always has no matter if they were on or off, and having her as a friend sounds pretty damn good to him. And going by the soft smile Nancy offers him when he tells her as much, Steve figures they’re on the same page about that.
Her and Jonathan, though, wow. That’s a whole different story.
They can barely look at each other across the table, both avoiding conversation and eye contact as much as possible. All Steve really knows is that they broke up and that it was apparently mutual, but whatever led to them deciding to go their separate ways? It can’t have been pretty.
Steve breathes a quiet sigh of relief when dinner’s finally pronounced over, and even offers to help with the dishes to escape the lingering tension in Joyce and Hop’s brand new dining room.
Everyone else has dispersed throughout the house once Steve is done drying plates, clustered around the place in little groups. Steve gets roped into a conversation about his plans for the future with Hop for a while, before Robin comes to his rescue, dragging him over for a few rounds of cards with Jonathan and a few of the kids.
Joyce starts handing out mugs of hot chocolate once it gets dark out, at which point Steve decides it’s high time to escape from the most competitive game of Go Fish he’s ever had the misfortune of being part of. Which has nothing at all to do with the fact that he’s losing spectacularly, thank you, Mike.
The door to the back patio is slightly ajar, letting in a much needed breeze, and Steve beelines for it, slipping outside quietly. He only notices that he isn’t alone when he spots the two figures huddled together against the railing, their voices too low to be picked up as they share a cigarette between them.
Eddie and Billy look relaxed, both of them loose and leaning into each other as they talk. Steve finds himself watching, mesmerized by how in sync they are, how easily they move in each other’s space, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Steve can’t remember ever having had anything similar, anything even close to that, with anybody. Not with Nancy or even Robin, definitely not with any of the girls he’s hooked up with casually, certainly not with his parents, and absolutely not with Tommy H, even though they’ve known each other since first grade.
“Earth to Harrington, hello? You in there, dickhead?”
Steve jumps, startled, but quickly covers it up by flipping Billy the bird.
“You okay, there, Steve?” Eddie asks, and he sounds amused but also genuine, and Steve has to swallow hard around a sudden lump in his throat before he can rasp out, “Yeah, fine.”
It doesn’t sound very convincing, not even to his own ears. Billy and Eddie share a look, one that Steve has no chance of reading, and then Eddie holds out his pack of smokes, wiggling it in Steve’s direction.
“Thanks, man,” Steve says, and steps closer to accept one. Eddie flips open his zippo, and Steve leans in so he can light it, making a sound of protest when Billy takes advantage of the moment to pluck the mug out of his hand. “Hey.”
Billy takes a pointed sip, then hands the hot chocolate to Eddie, because of course he does.
“You both suck,” Steve grumbles, though it’s half-hearted at best. “There’s more inside.”
“Aww, c’mon,” Eddie is grinning, big and easy, and he throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders, jostling him playfully, “be nice and share.”
Billy, because he hasn’t reached his asshole quota for the day yet, reaches up to ruffle Steve’s hair. But then his arm joins Eddie’s, and they kind of squish Steve between the two of them, and Billy even produces a flask from somewhere to spice up what’s now very much a communal hot chocolate.
And Steve just lets himself be held, smokes quietly, drinks hot chocolate with way too much cheap gas station whisky in it, and it’s nice.
Really nice.
3
Billy and Eddie are still high on adrenaline as the three of them stumble their way back to the motel, bumping into each other with every other step, singing loudly and interrupting themselves every other word by breaking into giggling, giddy laughter that’s entirely too loud for the time of night. Eddie’s waving the bandana he’s usually got stuffed in his back pocket around like a tiny flag as he tries to hop along on one foot, and Billy’s got his head thrown back to howl the lyrics as they circle back to the chorus.
“Living after midnight!”
Eddie whoops, nearly trips over himself, but then goes on, “Rocking to the dawn!”
“Loving ‘til the morning!” they shout together, and Steve, a few steps behind, can’t help but join in with, “Then I’m gone, I’m gone!”
Both Eddie and Billy whirl around in lurching unison, with matching grins on their faces.
“Stevie!” Eddie hollers, reaching for Steve, and Billy’s right there as well, grabbing at Steve and tugging him close, yelling, “Fucking yes, man!”
A light flickers on in a window above them, followed by an annoyed, “People are trying to sleep!”
“Fuck you!” Billy yells cheerfully, flipping the window the finger, and Eddie adds, “Yeah, get that stick outta your ass, man! Priest, woo!”
“Priest, baby!” Billy agrees as he pulls them all into motion again, and Steve’s laughing helplessly, his whole body buzzing, as he’s dragged along between them down the street.
As soon as they reach the motel, Steve kicks off his sneakers, shucks his shirt and jeans, and flops down on the bed he’d claimed earlier with an exhausted sigh. The five hour drive up to Chicago had been bad enough in this damn heat with no air conditioning, and that’d been followed by nearly two hours of queueing in the blazing sun because, “What’s the point of seeing them live if we’re not front row, dude?”
And then Steve had learned what a mosh pit was.
“Here.” Billy presses something cool against Steve’s cheek, making him hiss, and Steve shuffles upright enough to accept the can of beer with a slurred, “Thanks.”
Sitting cross-legged on the other bed, Eddie’s rolling a joint, fingers moving surely and deftly.
“How is it you can’t even walk properly anymore, but you’re still good at that?” Steve questions, impressed despite himself.
“Magic fingers,” Billy coos, smirking, as he joins Eddie on the other bed with two more beers. It makes Eddie choke on a snort of laughter, his cheeks turning faintly dusty as he mutters, “Shut the fuck up, dude, Jesus.”
They both ignore Steve’s confused, “What?” in favor of lightening up.
Eddie gets first hit, and blows the smoke up into Billy’s face with a wink before offering up the joint. Billy shoves him away, chuckling, and takes a lungful of his own, then stretches to hand the joint across to Steve before sprawling out next to Eddie.
Billy and Eddie talk mostly about the show as they smoke, and Steve’s content to listen between sips of beer and hits of the joint. He wouldn’t have chosen to go see Judas Priest, of all bands, if they’d left it up to him, and he’ll continue to bitch about their music mostly for the fun of it, but he can’t help but smile into his pillow, basking in their joyful reminiscing.
“Hey,” Steve finds himself mumbling at some point, on the verge of sleep, “Thanks for taking me along, guys.”
It’s early when he wakes up the next day, but the sun is already relentless where it shines in through the uncovered windows, because none of them had remembered to close the curtains last night. Groaning, Steve squints open one eye to assess the situation.
He’s feeling pretty gross and sweaty all over, and there’s a headache poking around in the back of his skull, but it’s far from the worst hangover he’s ever had. Turning his head, slow and careful, he takes a peek over at the other bed.
Eddie and Billy are still dead to the world. Billy’s shirtless, but he never got around to taking off his shorts and boots. Eddie’s managed to lose his shoes and pants, but he’s still in his vest, and he’s somehow ended up on his back, draped over Billy’s chest. It can’t be comfortable for either of them, and Steve feels sticky just from looking at them, but still.
They seem cozy.
Steve looks away quickly. Guiltily.
His eyes fall on the bedside table between their two beds. Apparently, both Eddie and Billy have taken off their jewelry at some point, and piled it into a little pile of silver and leather. Like a kind of heavy metal version of a dragon’s hoard.
Steve’s fingers itch, and before he fully realizes what he’s doing, he’s snatched one of the rings, and is holding it in his palm. The skull’s ruby eyes stare up at him, and Steve looks back, chewing his bottom lip.
“Fuck,” Billy grunts, making Steve startle and squeeze his eyes shut, pushing the hand with the ring under his pillow, “it’s hot as balls in here.”
The sound Eddie makes in response can’t be described as entirely human. “Just kill me, dude. Make the sun go away.”
There’s some shuffling around, then footsteps on the carpet, and finally, blessed darkness. The click of the fan being turned on, footsteps again, the squeak of springs, and when Steve risks another glance across the room, Billy’s back in bed, tucked into Eddie’s side this time around, with Eddie’s arm slung casually across his waist.
It takes Steve a long time to fall back asleep again.
4
Steve shoots upright, disoriented and confused, at the sudden, loud crash from right beside him. He nearly rolls off the side of the couch while struggling to disentangle himself from his blanket, blinking around the room in sleepy bewilderment.
“—calm the fuck down, Eddie. Eddie, Eds! It’s me, stop it!”
As Steve’s eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, he eventually sees that the coffee table’s been tipped over, its contents littered all over the floor, which is what must have woken him. Eddie’s sitting in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by spilled Chinese food and the shards of the shattered fruit bowl, hands fisted into his hair as he rocks back and forth jerkily.
Billy’s kneeling before him, hands hovering but not touching, pale-faced and trembling faintly himself. “You back? Talk to me, Eds, c’mon.”
Eddie’s gaze slowly lifts to focus on Billy, and stays scarily vacant for another moment before his face crumples. Which seems to be permission enough for Billy to reach for him, practically pulling Eddie into his lap as Eddie’s shaking arms come up to clutch at Billy.
“It’s—you didn’t see her, she was—she was all wrong, all broken, and I couldn’t—I didn’t know—”
Eddie’s voice is thick with tears, filled with so much raw agony, and suddenly, Steve can’t watch anymore. He stands on unsteady legs, breathing hard, and stumbles across the living room towards the front door. He just needs to check, to make sure that—yes, that the door’s locked, the alarm set, a bat among the umbrellas in the stand by the coat rack. Stiffly, he moves from window to window, checking, checking, checking everything once and then twice, until he reaches the kitchen and has to brace himself against the sink, feeling sick and nauseous and like total shit.
There’s fear sweat trickling down his back, and his vision is swimming as he turns on the tap. The cold water is a grounding shock as Steve unceremoniously pushes his face under the stream, waiting for the his panic to be washed away, down the drain and out of sight.
Once he’s sure he won’t keel right over, Steve straightens up and takes a few long, deep breaths. Holding them in, slowly letting them out, repeating that over and over again until it doesn’t feel like his heart’s going to jump right out of his chest anymore.
“Shit,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, and reaches for a hand towel to rub over his face. “Goddamnit.”
If he strains his ears, he can hear Eddie trying to stifle his sobs. Billy talking quietly, as gentle as Steve’s ever known him to be.
Unsure what else to do, Steve fills a glass with ice and water, and then, after another moment of helpless indecision, goes for his mother’s not so secret stash of Swiss chocolates she always brings home from Christmas vacation.
Billy’s got Eddie wrapped up tightly in Steve’s discarded blanket when Steve comes back into the living room, his face tucked away in Billy’s neck as his shoulders shake silently. Billy looks up at Steve warily as he approaches, throat bobbing, but doesn’t let go of Eddie.
Steve tries to smile. He holds out the glass. “Here.”
Eddie’s a wreck, eyes red and cheeks wet, when Billy nudges him back just enough to press the glass into his hand. His voice breaks around his quiet, “Thanks, man.”
Gingerly, Steve lowers himself to the floor close to Eddie. Puts a hesitant hand on his back, and starts rubbing it in slow circles when he doesn’t get shrugged off. Eddie takes a few sips of water, then Billy takes the glass again and puts it down out of the way. His hand finds the back of Eddie’s neck and squeezes, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut with a shaky sigh.
Steve unwraps one of the chocolates, pops it into his mouth, and holds the box out to the other two. “Sugar usually helps me. After, you know.”
The corners of Eddie’s mouth quirk up into the faintest of smiles.
For a while, they eat chocolate in silence, huddled together but each of them lost in their own thoughts. Struggling with putting all their respective demons back into their boxes, closed and locked tightly.
“How,” Steve blurts eventually, clears his throat, eyes on Billy, “uh, how do you do it? Like. How do you deal?”
Because Steve’s seen his scars, can see them right now, in fact, littered all over his chest and abdomen, pink and stark and gnarly. And while Billy claims he doesn’t remember much from his time away, Steve suspects that’s bullshit. Billy gets quiet, sometimes, like he’s somewhere that’s not here, and it’ll last for days. He’ll walk around town like a ghost, not entirely present, and he’ll flinch and hiss at people, or just vanish entirely for a while, to who knows where.
“We take turns freaking out,” Eddie murmurs, raspy, a little teasing, “for efficiency, you know?”
Billy laughs, low but real, as far as Steve can tell. “Fuck you,” he says, and pushes Eddie away, making Eddie chuckle as he falls against Steve’s side.
And then he doesn’t move away. Just tilts his head to lie against Steve’s shoulder, breath tickling Steve’s ear. Steve shifts, puts an arm around him, and Eddie sinks into the contact, becoming a heavy but not unwelcome weight against Steve.
Billy’s foot bumps against Steve’s.
Steve rests his cheek against the top of Eddie’s head, and lets his eyes fall shut.
5
Steve’s head pops up over the register counter of Family Video at Robin’s sudden, “Oh, shit,” and bumps right into a box of new arrivals, sending tapes scattering all over the floor.
“Ow,” Steve complains, rubbing at his head, but Robin is looking out over the parking lot, not paying him or his pain any attention. “Hey, what? Robin?”
But then, before Robin can elaborate, the yelling reaches them.
“What the fuck?” Steve hops over the counter, moving closer to the window. There’s people outside, two arguing and several watching shamelessly, and—
“Oh, shit!” Steve swears, sprinting for the door, and throws a thumbs-up over his shoulder when Robin shouts after him, “I’ll call Eddie!”
He’s halfway across the lot, still too far away to make out actual words, but more than close enough to see Mr Hargrove slap Billy across the face. Cursing under his breath, Steve runs faster, and staggers to a sliding halt in front of Billy, doing his best to block him from Mr Hargrove’s furious gaze.
Mr Hargrove does not appreciate that. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, boy, but—”
“Terribly sorry, sir,” Steve interrupts, his best and fakest talking-to-a-shitty-customer smile firmly in place, “but I need to ask you to lower your voice. Now, if there’s something I can help you with—”
“You can get the hell out of my way, is what you can do!” Mr Hargrove’s red-faced, and from this near, Steve can tell it’s definitely not just from the summer heat. “This is a family matter!”
Steve can practically feel Billy rear up again behind him, vibrating with barely and badly suppressed anger, and a quick glance over his shoulder at Billy’s face confirms that, yep, no, the situation’s not about to calm down by itself any time soon. Fumbling, searching, he reaches behind himself until his hand lands on Billy’s stomach. Surprisingly enough, after a few seconds, Billy curls a hand around his wrist, holding on tightly.
“Yes, uh, yes, sir.” Steve tries for a smile, the one that he tends to break out for the crotchety old ladies that come into the store. Mr Hargrove looks entirely unimpressed. “I understand that, sir, since we are a family oriented business. Which means we wouldn’t want any of our highly valued customers to feel disturbed in their Family Video experience.”
“In that case,” Mr Hargrove spits, “step away, so I can take my son home.”
Which, no.
That is not going to happen.
Steve isn’t actually sure where Billy lives, officially, these days, but it’s not with his father. He crashes on Max’s floor sometimes, if her mother’s too out of it to notice him being there, or stays with Eddie in his uncle’s trailer, or occasionally sleeps in Steve’s guest room, with or without Eddie tagging along.
Everywhere, really, Steve’s gotten the impression, as long as it isn’t with his father.
At Steve’s back, Billy tenses. Steve moves his hand to give Billy’s side a reassuring pat.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he says, then tacks on another sarcastic, “sir.”
Thankfully, and before Mr Hargrove can start yelling again, Hop’s cruiser pulls into the parking lot.
“Thank fuck,” Steve breathes out, then shuffles both himself and Billy a few steps back when Mr Hargrove snarls, “You’re calling the cops on me now, William?”
Steve doesn’t dare take his eyes off Mr Hargrove, so he only hears the car door being thrown open, and the boots hitting gravel as Eddie calls out, “Billy!” and runs towards them, followed by Hop’s exasperated, “Didn’t I just tell you to stay in the car?”
Mr Hargrove’s eyes blaze furiously as watches Eddie approach. “Haven’t you brought enough shame down on this family with your—” he gestures at Billy, with disgust written plain as day in his expression, “with all of this? Now you associate with the freaks? With the murderers? What’s next, William, tell me—”
Billy nearly bowls Steve over, growling frantically, in an attempt to get at his father. Steve has to dig his feet in, is straining to keep Billy back, but then Eddie’s there with an arm around Billy’s waist, towing him back.
“Mr Hargrove, I’ve heard so much about you!” Eddie’s all fake cheer, but his eyes are scarily cold when Steve turns to put his hands on Billy’s shoulders in another, mostly futile attempt to calm him down. “It’s an absolute fucking displeasure to meet you.”
“Okay, all right,” Hop doesn’t raise his voice, but his tone makes it very clear he’s not in the mood to joke around, “that’s quite enough. Now, why doesn’t someone tell me what’s going on here? Ah!” he says, when everyone tries to start talking at once, holding up a hand, “one at a time. Steve?”
“Mr Hargrove assaulted Billy.”
“You—I did no such thing, I—”
“No, Steve’s right!” Robin, fucking bless her, yells from the entrance to the store. “I saw it, too!”
Within minutes, one of Hop’s officers has Mr Hargrove in the back of the cruiser, and another is taking Steve’s statement. Hop is talking to Billy, who’s staring at his feet and scowling, Eddie basically glued to his side. Steve and Eddie shuffle Billy into the Family Video break room as soon as they’re dismissed, where Robin is waiting with a bag of ice and a can of soda.
“I’d get you a beer,” she says apologetically, “but it’s kind of frowned upon if we drink at work, so this’ll have to do for now. How are you feeling?”
Billy stares at her, unblinking.
Robin shoots Steve a pointed look, before patting Billy on the shoulder. “Okay. I’ll be upfront, closing up. Call me if you need anything.”
“Put that on your face,” Eddie says, nodding at the ice. Then he presses it against Billy’s lip himself, when Billy makes no move to take it. He tips Billy’s head back gently, eyes worriedly flickering all over his face. “Let me take a look.”
“It’s not that bad,” Billy says, so quietly that Steve, even from just a foot away, barely catches it. “Stop fussing.”
Eddie lifts the ice again to prod at Billy’s lip. “Stop complaining, asshole.”
“What are you, a fucking doctor?” Billy grumbles, but he closes his eyes, and lets Eddie inspect the cut. Eddie must touch something particularly sensitive, then, which makes Billy hiss. “Watch it.”
“Oh, now you’ve suddenly got a sense of humor?” Eddie replaces the ice. His hand stays on Billy’s face, cupped around his cheek. “Well, in my layman opinion,” he teases, “I’d say you’ll probably live.”
Billy doesn’t say anything to that. He just leans forward, so he can drop his forehead against Eddie’s chest. Eddie goes with the movement easily, and slides a hand into Billy’s hair.
“Do, uh. Do you guys need a ride somewhere?”
Both Eddie and Billy startle a little at Steve’s question. Eddie’s quick to smile, though, tired but grateful. “Yeah, man. Thanks, Steve, that’d be great.”
Steve drives them to his own house.
No one says anything about it.
+1
The house is quiet as Steve climbs back up the stairs to his bedroom with a fresh glass of water in hand. Quiet enough, in fact, that he picks up the faint thump coming out of the guest room as he passes by in the hallway. It makes him hesitate, hovering by the door uncertainly.
Billy hasn’t been in the best of moods since the confrontation with his father, and it wouldn’t surprise Steve if he was having shitty dreams about it. Waking Billy up from nightmares isn’t a good idea—Steve and his bruised jaw had had to learn that the hard way—but if it’s Eddie? He’ll appreciate Steve checking in on him.
There’s another noise, like something’s being hit, and, decision made, Steve knocks on the door. “Guys?” he calls, but there’s no answer, only a cut off grunt. “Okay, uh. I’m coming in, I guess?”
He pushes open the door, then immediately freezes on the threshold.
Eddie’s got Billy pinned against the desk, which is so unlike him, the image doesn’t fully compute in Steve’s head for the longest moment. And, even more unbelievably, Billy seems to be letting him, one of his hands tangled in Eddie’s necklaces, but not defensively, more like he’s trying to pull him in closer, and—
It finally registers, absently, that they’re both shirtless. That their hips are pressed very firmly together. That Eddie is holding Billy, yes, but tenderly, with his hands framing Billy’s face as he leans in, closer and closer, until their noses bump, until their lips brush—
They jump apart as if burnt when Steve’s glass shatters on the hardwood floor.
Billy, panting heavily, hisses at Eddie, “I thought you locked the damn door!”
“I did!” Eddie is looking from Billy to Steve, then back again quickly, nervously. “I swear, I did!”
“The lock’s broken,” Steve says dumbly, which is followed by a completely justified shriek when Billy’s suddenly on him, throwing him against the nearest wall with a soundless snarl. “Dude—what’s your damage, man?”
Eddie shuts the door again, worrying the inside of his cheek. “Billy, hey. C’mon, we’ll talk it through—”
“We don’t need to talk,” Billy interrupts, grinds it out through gritted teeth, eyes never leaving Steve. “In fact, what we do need is for this asshole to not fucking talk!”
“Billy—” Eddie tries.
“Eds—” Billy growls back.
“Okay, hey!” It takes some effort, but Eddie manages to slip in between Steve and Billy, his back towards Steve. He puts one hand on Billy’s heaving chest, and settles the other on the side of his neck. “This isn’t helping. What are you going to do, hm? What’s the big plan here, hotshot?”
Billy’s eyes narrow. Eddie’s hand moves from Billy’s neck to the back of his head, into his curls. “I need you to calm the hell down, babe, okay?”
“Babe,” Steve mouths to himself, but Billy definitely sees it, going by the way he bares his teeth at Steve. “I didn’t—”
“Shut up!” Billy snaps, punching the wall next to Steve’s head with the side of his fist. “Just. Shut the fuck up!”
Steve has no idea what possesses him to do it, he really doesn’t. Without even really thinking about it, he lifts his own hand to ghost his fingers over Billy’s knuckles. Billy’s fingers twitch, as does his expression, but when he doesn’t actually get socked in the face, Steve slowly, carefully begins to unfurl Billy’s tightly clenched hand.
One finger at a time, until he can slot his own between them. Until they’re—until they’re holding hands, kind of, against the wall. Until he’s holding Billy’s hand, and watching Billy try to figure out what to do with that. Billy’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he sucks it between his teeth. He glares at Steve, at their hands, at Steve again, and lets out a too high, choked-off noise when Steve decides fuck it, and shifts just enough to lean his cheek against their clasped hands.
“What—” Eddie has to crane his neck to see what’s happening behind him. “What are you—oh, thank fucking Christ, shit, fuck,” he says shakily, and drops his forehead against Billy’s sternum. After a moment, his head snaps back up, though, and he glances back at Steve again. “Wait, you—seriously?”
All Steve can do in response is shrug. He’s so far out of his league, he’s landed somewhere in a different sport entirely. He doesn’t have the first fucking clue what he’s doing, is just going by what feels—
By what feels good.
And this does.
As does leaning forward to put his lips against Eddie’s neck, brushing them over the tattoo there that’s usually hidden. But Eddie’s got his hair up tonight, piled messily on top of his head, and that newly revealed part of him feels almost unbearably tempting, beckons like a beacon, and Steve wants to be closer all of a sudden. Needs to be closer, closer, closer.
Eddie shivers at the contact. His skin pebbles, so Steve licks at it, which makes Eddie groan. “Warn a guy,” he laughs breathlessly as he tilts his head back, against Steve’s shoulder. “Hi.”
Steve brushes their cheeks together. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Billy mimics, a little mocking, a little amused, and kisses Eddie.
Eddie hums into it happily, but it turns into a chuckled yelp when Billy starts tugging at him, drawing him back into the room. He’s still got Steve by the hand, so Steve doesn’t have much choice but to stumble along, jostling Eddie between the two of them.
“My bed’s bigger,” Steve’s mouth says, without much input from his brain, once he realizes where Billy’s heading. Which is a little embarrassing, but he powers on, ignoring his heating cheeks, “And my door actually locks?”
“Oh my god,” Eddie complains, all giggly and giddy, when Billy accepts that, and immediately changes course to push them towards the door instead. He slaps at Billy’s chest, wiggles and squirms until he can duck away from Billy’s manhandling. “I’m coming, we’re coming, chill out.”
Billy huffs at him, and marches on down the hall, dragging Steve along. Eddie follows, looking highly amused. He also makes a point of closing and locking the door, which is a good thing, because Steve’s a little preoccupied by being unceremoniously shoved down on his bed, hitting the mattress with a winded, “Oof.”
Billy doesn’t waste any time, crawls onto it right after Steve, and immediately goes for the string of Steve’s sweatpants. He’s got them open and down over Steve’s hips, along with his boxers, before Steve can do so much as blink. His heart is racing, and his dick is starting to take a definite interest in the proceedings when Billy looks up at him from under his lashes.
Waiting. Asking.
Steve opens his mouth, realizes words will not be happening right now, and instead nods frantically. Billy smirks, fucking winks at him, and closes his mouth over Steve’s cock. Steve goes boneless with a long, drawn-out moan.
He doesn’t even notice that he’s closed his eyes until the bed dips, and he opens them again to find Eddie next to him, smiling down at him. He slides one hand under Steve’s neck to tilt his head up, just a little, and leans in slowly. Steve meets him halfway.
Eddie’s free hand roams Steve’s chest as they kiss, sneaking under his shirt to scratch lightly, teasingly against his skin. He brushes his thumb over Steve’s nipple, dips his fingers into the hollow of Steve’s throat, tugs at the hair on his chest—
“Ow!” Eddie’s mouth detaches from Steve’s, and his hand leaves Steve’s chest to smack at Billy’s hand, where Billy’s pinching his hip. “Can you seriously not exist for five fucking minutes without getting any attention?”
He grabs a handful of Billy’s hair and tugs, tugs him right off Steve’s dick, which makes Steve whine, and Billy’s eyes flutter. “You’re so annoying,” he tells Billy, but moves to lean down the bed anyway, smacking a big, exaggerated kiss against Billy’s lips. “Happy?”
Billy kisses him again, deeper and hungrier, and it’s practiced, they know what they’re doing, they’ve done this before, they—
They both turn to stare at Steve when Steve whimpers, very intelligently, “Nngh.”
“Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gentle as he moves back up to lie beside Steve. He hesitates for a moment, unsure, then cups Steve’s cheek, strokes his thumb over the skin under Steve’s eye. “Are you freaking out?”
“Stop freaking out,” Billy orders, with his chin resting on Steve’s thigh. His voice has gone all low and raspy. “It’s killing the mood.”
Eddie flicks his nose without looking at him. “Steve, hey. We don’t have to do this, okay? You say the word, we’ll stop. No big deal, no hard feelings, all right?”
Steve is shaking his head before Eddie’s even finished talking.
Stopping is the last thing on Steve’s mind at the moment. But, fifteen minutes ago, Steve had been blissfully unaware that he might be into fooling around with a dude. With multiple dudes. With two people who, against all odds, have become some of his closest friends. And have, apparently, been fooling around with each other for a while already? Because they certainly seem familiar with each other, touch each other with purpose, kiss as if they’ve done it a million times already.
And also right above Steve’s dick, which Steve is pretty sure is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him.
It’s just a lot.
“Okay, so, I might be freaking out,” Steve allows, but is quick to tack on, “Not in a bad way, though!” when Eddie tenses, and Billy actually goes to sit up.
“It’s just, uh.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it nervously. “I guess it’s different? I only ever, you know. With girls before? It’s, yeah. It’s different? But, like, good different?”
Billy shrugs.
“We’ll take your word for it,” Eddie says, slowly relaxing against Steve again. “So. You’re good?”
“Wait, wait,” Steve can feel his brows somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline, “neither of you have ever—”
Billy bites the meat of his thigh. “Do you want me to suck your dick, or do you want to keep asking about us not fucking girls?”
Steve’s throat clicks. “The first one. Please?”
In any other circumstances, Steve would be mortified to shoot off within minutes, but he feels as if he can’t be blamed this time. Because this is very new, and new things are always a little more exciting. And Billy not only knows what he’s doing, he’s enjoying it, too, breathing out quiet little moans around Steve’s dick as he grinds himself against the mattress. Which is really something. Combined with Eddie’s determination to kiss the actual life out of Steve, and the way Steve can feel that he’s hard as well against his side, Steve has barely enough time to groan out a warning for Billy.
Which Billy then promptly ignores in favor of swallowing around Steve.
Steve might pass out for a minute, because when he can focus on anything other than white hot pleasure again, Billy’s knee-walked up the bed, has one knee between Steve’s legs and one between Eddie’s, and a hand braced against Steve’s chest. His other hand is fumbling with the button of his jeans, and there’s an actual sulky undertone to his voice when he says, “Eds, please.”
Eddie licks at the corner of Steve’s mouth, grinning at Steve when Steve’s breath hitches, before he turns to Billy. “Yeah, babe, come here. C’mon.”
He reaches up to clasp the back of Billy’s neck and pulls him into a kiss, while Billy finally frees his dick. He struggles with Eddie’s zipper for a moment, hissing impatiently, but then he’s curling a hand around both their cocks, making them both moan in beautiful unison. Eddie’s other hand twitches against Steve’s cheek, so Steve instinctively turns his head to kiss his palm, which makes Eddie hum appreciatively into Billy’s mouth.
Billy’s riled up enough that it only takes him half a dozen strokes before he’s coming, and Eddie isn’t far behind. Steve watches, unable and entirely unwilling to tear his eyes away from the sight of their dicks, wet and messy as they mark each other, before Billy huffs and collapses, half on Eddie and half on Steve.
He shuffles around some, so he can nudge his face into the crook of Steve’s neck. Encouraged, Steve puts an arm around him, his fingers just so brushing the waistband of his jeans. Billy laughs, exhausted but knowing.
Eddie’s the first one to move again, slipping out from under them and then out of bed entirely. He’s smiling, though, when Steve looks up at him questioningly, practically beaming, and bends down to brush his lips over Steve’s before bustling off in the direction of the bathroom.
“How,” Steve starts, but gets cut off by a yawn. “Ugh. So much energy.”
“Mmh,” Billy hums, lips brushing Steve’s skin, “he’s a freak.”
Coming from Billy, it sounds like a compliment.
Eddie eventually returns, naked as the day he was born and completely unbothered by it, with two damp washcloths. Billy grumbles but takes one, Steve the other, and they clean off while moving as little as possible. Steve pulls his boxers back up but kicks off his sweatpants, and Billy somehow manages to wriggle out of his ridiculously tight pants without removing himself from where he’s doing his best to meld right into Steve’s chest.
“Hey,” Eddie’s tossing Billy’s jeans onto the chair in the corner, then just kind of gestures down at himself, “do you—”
Steve nods. “Top drawer. Take whatever.”
He watches idly as Eddie rummages through his clothes, and eventually settles on a pair of boxers. He chucks a second one at Billy, who doesn’t even bother to pick them up from where they land on his back, already more than half asleep from what Steve can tell.
But then Eddie’s eyes catch on something on the dresser, and a moment later he spins around, a shit-eating grin on his face. And the skull ring Steve maybe, kind of never gave back held between his thumb and forefinger. “What’s this, huh?”
Billy perks up at that, taking the ring when Eddie flops down on the bed beside them and holds it out. “Thought I’d lost this one.”
Steve knows he must be bright red. “Look, I really didn’t mean to—”
His hands are bigger than Billy’s, which Steve first notices when Billy picks up his hand, and then some more when he slides the ring onto Steve’s pinky instead of his ring finger. Billy twists it around, so the skull’s eyes face the proper way.
Steve tilts his head down and kisses him softly. Billy gasps, but pushes into the contact, as if it’s unexpected but he’s happy about it. They both groan and complain when Eddie shoves at them, but rearrange themselves on their sides, with Billy tucked under Steve’s chin, so Eddie can spoon against Steve’s back. His breath is warm against the back of Steve’s neck as he pushes a leg between Steve’s and settles one hand low on Steve’s stomach, the other finding its way into Billy’s hair.
“It’s too hot for this,” Steve mumbles sleepily, even as he puts his hand on top of Eddie’s, not minding at all. “I’m gonna be so gross in the morning.”
Eddie just chuckles. Billy mutters, “Sucks to be you.”
It doesn’t, though.
It really fucking doesn’t right now.