[There are some blessed consequences of being out of Hawkins: Billy gets to keep himself busy. Two jobs, an unlimited credit card, and his own place? It's the closest he's been to heaven, even after dying. The future is strange, sure, but it's easy enough to adapt. He learns all the things he can't say or do anymore and truthfully, he's too tired to rebel against it. There's no one here to hold a grudge against; there's no fists to take behind closed doors, no disparaging remarks at the crack of dawn before the school run.
It's a bittersweet freedom, and he runs with it.
It's almost perfect. He's almost a new man, freed from the shackles of his past, except Steve is here and maybe they both expect Billy to be the same old asshole he's always been. Billy's been trying, anyway, because it's familiar - but it's exhausting, too. He's realising he just wants to drink a beer, smoke a joint, just be a normal guy for five minutes. Maybe he's been avoiding Steve in the interim while he gets his shit together. Maybe it's almost three weeks of it before he feels like he can do a conversation without having to put all his energy into being a tough guy. The point is, he's trying, and fuck, he can't avoid Steve forever. Literally can't, because it makes him itch. Makes him tense and jittery.
This crush just won't go, and he hates that he's not even sure if it's a be my friend you condescending dick or a shove your dick down my throat kind of crush. It's agonising.
It's after 7 when Billy knocks on his door, a six pack and some of the better weed tucked into his back pocket. There is also a pizza, which is as close to a present Billy's willing to splurge on while he tries to figure this out. ] Hey, [he says, like it's nothing, and he does this all the time. ] Peace offering. Times three.
[ It's not the worst parallel world or dimension or whatever that he's been in, the credit card certainly helps with buoying his opinion there, but it's the fact Eddie is around that mostly convinces Steve they have things semi-decent while figuring out (or waiting) how to go home. There's also the sex, that really came as a surprise but honestly of the best kind. Steve has no idea what he's supposed to define his sexuality as so for now it exists as Women-And-Eddie, and he hasn't gone out of his way to explore that.
Billy's around too, of course. That's good for Max, Steve guesses, since she needs her big brother. Needs to work shit out with him, more to the point, because she was messed up way before Vecna marked her. Again, he doesn't think too hard about that either. Billy is an amorphous blob in the corner of Steve's mind because the guy can take care of himself and Steve is also busy helping Eddie adjust to not being a pile of murdered minced meat. Of course they will all go home together, he thinks, they just don't ... hang out.
Never did.
That's how three weeks alone with Eddie means Steve opens the door in a Metallica tshirt tucked into his jeans, open-mouthed in surprise as he swallows a Yeah, yeah, I'm wearing it when he finds Billy Hargrove on the doorstep of his hotel apartment. With pizza. And beer. ]
Oh. Hargrove, hiiii. [ A peace offering? Steve blinks from the food to Billy, frowning. ] You ... brought me dinner?
[It's the shirt that starts the cogs. Sure, he'd known Eddie Munson was here. He'd seen bits and pieces here and there, but Billy has other drug contacts now. Has other shit to worry about. He hadn't known Steve and Eddie were tight enough to swap shirts, even if they were shacked up together.
Three weeks doesn't feel like a long time, but man, they're still teenagers. He's still stupid. ] It's pizza, but it does the trick.
[He tries not to act like he feels stupid. Neutral, like the Metallica shirt is the kind of anomaly that means nothing, and that he doesn't feel at all jealous or weird about it. Just perfectly fucking normal. ] Can I come in, or do I have to eat this by myself and do three extra hours at the gym because you wouldn't share?
[Fuck. The question - that horrible little curiosity - feels answered now. He wishes Eddie had a car he could key or some shit, which isn't exactly fair, because Eddie had been cool. Weird, loud and fucking chatty, but he'd been cool any time Billy needed something fast.
This is karma, probably. He would feel humbled if his brain weren't bottoming out into the abyss. ]
[ Since it means so much to him. Steve eyeballs him as he steps aside to let Billy into his apartment, absently glancing over to where his space-age phone is charging in case he needs it. ]
You can put it on the table.
[ It's an open-plan apartment but he'd rather direct Billy over to the couch than the bed. Yikes.
[Ah. There's a whole kitchen, and a bed, and jesus christ, he's not going to be a pussy about this. It's fine. He's fine. ]
Sorry, [for the zoning out. He puts the pizza down, sits and spreads like he is super comfortable and utterly ease in this apartment, with its one double bed, and Steve in Eddie Munson's shirt. The sixpack goes next to him, a hand resting on it, and he taps.] Just had time to think. Figured I might as well try and coexist peacefully now instead of waiting six months like a pussy.
[Co-exist. Existing is pain. He may be so, so tired, but at least being an asshole didn't hurt. He keeps tapping. ] Figured pizza and beer would be a good ice breaker. I brought weed in case I had to butter you up.
[ He's not (not!!) going to be intimidated by the sight of Billy Hargrove smearing himself all over Steve's space. So, he walks over to unhook a beer and perches on the far armrest of the couch, cracking the tab to take a sip. ]
I haven't seen you in weeks, what exactly are you apologising for?
I don't know, man. I hate small talk and awkward silences, so I guess I'd rather we didn't do that if we ever meet buying groceries or whatever.
[Being dead again would be easier than this - ] Just eat the pizza man. It's the good shit.
[Beer isn't enough: he needs to be so high he's unconscious.
He breathes out, runs a hand through his curls and sighs, leaning forward to open the box. He grabs a slice, takes the first bite because sure, if he were Steve maybe he'd suspect he'd fucked with it. Maybe. ]
[ It would probably be a little obvious if he went to grab his phone and message Munson about this. Staring for a moment longer, he takes a piece of pizza and chews it in silence. Sips his beer.
And when he can't stand it any longer, ]
Dude, are you lonely or something? I know this dimension is freaking weird, do you want some company?
Jesus fuck. [This is mortifying. He's not sure what he envisioned here; some fantasy scenario that ended with them laughing, shoulder to shoulder? Like friends? Not being called out within the first ten minutes, that's for sure. ]
No, you asshat, I'm not lonely. [He has Tinder, okay. ] I can like you enough to bring you pizza without being desperate, Harrington, god. Give yourself some credit.
That's the first thing you've said that doesn't sound unhinged.
[ You feel grounding. Eddie's been thriving but he said something similar and Steve doesn't like to leave the guy alone for too many days at a time in case he gets in his own head again about being batfood. Maybe Billy's having a similar crisis about being shish-kabob.
Damn, Steve really is babysitting a bunch of dead guys now, isn't he?
Steve gestures to him with his beer. ]
So, what have you been doing for the past three weeks?
[ the phone is, unfortunately, temporarily forgotten as other things take forefront in his mind. eddie is eventually pulled out of dreamland by the sound of billy's phone going off again, and again, and again - and rescues it from the crack between his bed and the wall.
by that time its well into the evening. he leaves steve to de-clutter his room - and maybe start to pack a little, since they're making the commitment to leave - and heads off for the address billy gave him with a little gift in tow. the knock to the door is less a knock and more a drum solo done with both fists to a familiar tune. ]
[He knows it, of course. There’s faint music playing somewhere in the apartment - the kitchen maybe - but not loud enough that Billy can’t hear.
He opens the door as dressed as one might expect: basketball shorts and a cigarette, and not much else. He leans on the door frame, arms crossed and eyes Eddie, gives him a real once over before he nods and moves aside to let him in.]
I’d offer you something but all I got is coffee and some shit they call Belgian beer.
Well, lucky for you I've brought some New Amsterdam party favors. [ he tosses the bag on over, stepping inside and giving the place the one over before he shifts his weight to slide the phone out of his pocket. ] Nice digs, Hargrove.
[He catches it with both hands, finds himself suspiciously touched by the gesture and puts it down to getting a full 8 hours of (mostly) uninterrupted sleep. ]
Careful, Munson, you keep buttering me up like that and I might like you.
[There’s a beat where he fishes around in a kitchen drawer for paper skins, then he comes around, nods at the couch for Eddie to sit. It’s a nice couch, okay. His second nice purchase.
Everything else is a little new-new. Some boxes of furniture he hasn’t gotten round to yet. Framed band posters to be hung. All his energy’s gone into his closet, honestly.
He makes a little grabby hand for the phone and drops the baggy and skins on the box passing for a coffee table.] Give it.
[ don't mind if he does, flopping down to make himself nice and comfotable in this space he surely isn't meant to be in and tosses the phone lightly to billy. ]
It stared going off like crazy. Dunno what you missed but someone reeeeeally wants your attention.
[He huffs out a laugh, catches it and then gives Eddie a look. ]
You didn’t look? [Billy would’ve, probably. Still, he checks - scrolls, and scrolls, and scrolls and then sits back, smirking.] Dude the future is so fucking weird. [Anyway he’s a rich man -]
I don’t promises I can’t keep, [he says while his phone goes off again. He mutes it, tosses it next to the bag and reaches down to start rolling. Tries to be nonchalant.]
You don’t gotta pretend to like me to keep me from messing with Harrington, Munson. We’re all good here.
[Listen, Eddie’s had time to process. He gets it; gets it enough that he offers Eddie first draw.]
[ those dark eyebrows raise ever so slightly. He takes the joint between two fingers and takes a long drag, handing it back. ]
Look, Hargrove, I get that I wasn't on your radar before - but there's one thing you really should know about me. I don't pretend to like anyone, or anything.
[He takes it back - sits back and inhales long and deep, and thinks he and Eddie might have been friends if they’d met in Cali. Maybe. Who’s to say, maybe they might have ended up friends in Hawkins in the end too.
He scrubs his knuckle over his forehead and lets himself be tired, here. He still can’t quite figure out why his hackles lower around Eddie. Can’t figure out why he wants them to.] Yeah. I guess you don’t.
[They have that in common, he guesses. That and everything else.]
Besides, if I'd known you were cool I'da done this a lot sooner. Hawkins is a shit place if you're a square peg trying to slot yourself through a round hole.
[They should have gone to Steve's. This is what Billy thinks in the aftermath of it all: they should have gone to Steve's, where his parents are always gone, where the rooms are bigger and the emptiness is a permanent thing. Steve's place, where they would have been uninterrupted, where maybe they could have had a relatively normal night without -
The thing is this: Max is staying at Hopper's. She's tucked away in Jane's room, safe as can be. Susan is out, though Billy forgets where. Thinks it could be a ladies night, thinks it could be a goddamn motel somewhere. And Neil - Neil is supposed to be out of town for a funeral. It's ironic, really, in hindsight.
The Hargrove house is supposed to be empty for a long while. There had been Steve's offer of his place, but Billy, well, he's always thrived off danger. Always lived a little close to it. Something about the freedom of his own house, coupled with the adrenaline of being seen, and he'd said no, no, stay, and Eddie and Steve had listened to him.
They never listen to him, is the thing. Not usually. Not like this. He wishes they hadn't: wishes desperately that Eddie had put his hand into Billy's hair and crooned softly about the benefits of Steve's pool, instead of listening to Billy's stupid request to get fucked in his own bed. Billy hadn't even gotten his own fucking pants off before it all blew up in his face.
Neil is supposed to be out of town, and there are two cars in his driveway, and fuck, for fifteen blissful minutes it had felt euphoric to have his mouth of Steve's neck, to have Eddie's hand firm against the back of his neck. It had felt borderline sinful to have Eddie purr direction in his ear, to have Steve guide with his hair. Then the door slammed shut somewhere down the hall, then there had been the footsteps, and then there had been his fathers hands in his hair, hauling him and it would have been humiliating, really, if the pain hadn't been so severe. If the shock weren't so fucking blinding.
When they say it all happened so fast, that's a lie. It happens in slow motion. Billy remembers it clearly, remembers Steve's face turning white, remembers the way Eddie's had switched so fast from blank comprehension to feral fury. He remembers the slurs, the shouting, remembers elbowing Neil in the gut and being sucker punched for his troubles: remembers Eddie lunging, remembers the way it had tumbled out of his room, to the kitchen. Remembers get out of my fucking house - and shame before one of them - he can't remember who - had thrown a punch that had knocked Neil square on his ass. Remembers that there was a knife on the counter that had been thrown to the one closest, how Neil had laughed as he got up, had taunted them.
Billy remembers that he picked up the other knife from the sink and had sunk it into the side of his fathers neck. He thinks his own lip was bleeding - still bleeding - and that the sound had been terrible. He remembers grabbing his arms to stop him reaching for the wound, remembers the way the other knife had sunk between his ribs as he held him.
And now, here they were, sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at a body. Staring at Neil Hargrove, who is supposed to be out of town for a funeral, and Billy is - he feels empty, maybe. Gutted. He can't stop staring at his fathers face like he can't quite believe he'll never get up again. There is so much blood, too. So much of it, all over the floors and surrounds. When he looks up at Steve and Eddie, he feels dizzy. Can't believe he's let this happen to them; can't believe they would do this for him. It's sick, probably, that he thinks he wants to kiss them both stupid. Feels half-way thankful along with the panic. ]
but he's watched his dad do it once or twice. accidentally. other people society wouldn't miss much, people no one goes looking for and never finds. eddie learned a lot in those thirteen years living with edward munson sr., and he'd spent the last seven trying to forget absolutely every bit of it.
and he - he didn't mean to. hit him. escalate this. he's not the one that does the stabbing, he just stands there, wide-eyed and terrified as the choking sounds replace the hammering in his heart.
and then. and then all those old lessons come roaring back. there's blood on steve, blood on billy, and eddie's moving to grip the handles of the knifes. putting his fingerprints all over them.
because... because eddie munson knows how to kill a man. eddie munson knows how to hide a body. eddie knows how to get away with literal murder, but if he fucks up, his boys are taking the fall with him. and looking at billy, face swelling with a bruise, and steve - kind and effortlessly gentle with all of the kids - he doesn't know if he can live with that. ]
Okay, okay... okay... okay. [ each 'okay' gets progressively quieter. a hand - covered in blood, comes up to his mouth as he hunches there over the corpse. tries to think fast. they can claim self-defense. billy's hurt.
he looks up at the two of them, brown eyes wide and slightly teary. ] I - I - I got the record, cops will look at me and won't ask more questions. [ partly to himself and partly to them, looking back at the body. making a choice in that moment. ] It was me. I did this. He - he went for Billy, and I lost it, and you guys tried to stop me. But it was me, okay? All me.
[ his voice is breaking a little. the terror plain. ]
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i.
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Billy's around too, of course. That's good for Max, Steve guesses, since she needs her big brother. Needs to work shit out with him, more to the point, because she was messed up way before Vecna marked her. Again, he doesn't think too hard about that either. Billy is an amorphous blob in the corner of Steve's mind because the guy can take care of himself and Steve is also busy helping Eddie adjust to not being a pile of murdered minced meat. Of course they will all go home together, he thinks, they just don't ... hang out.
Never did.
That's how three weeks alone with Eddie means Steve opens the door in a Metallica tshirt tucked into his jeans, open-mouthed in surprise as he swallows a Yeah, yeah, I'm wearing it when he finds Billy Hargrove on the doorstep of his hotel apartment. With pizza. And beer. ]
Oh. Hargrove, hiiii. [ A peace offering? Steve blinks from the food to Billy, frowning. ] You ... brought me dinner?
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Three weeks doesn't feel like a long time, but man, they're still teenagers. He's still stupid. ] It's pizza, but it does the trick.
[He tries not to act like he feels stupid. Neutral, like the Metallica shirt is the kind of anomaly that means nothing, and that he doesn't feel at all jealous or weird about it. Just perfectly fucking normal. ] Can I come in, or do I have to eat this by myself and do three extra hours at the gym because you wouldn't share?
[Fuck. The question - that horrible little curiosity - feels answered now. He wishes Eddie had a car he could key or some shit, which isn't exactly fair, because Eddie had been cool. Weird, loud and fucking chatty, but he'd been cool any time Billy needed something fast.
This is karma, probably. He would feel humbled if his brain weren't bottoming out into the abyss. ]
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[ Since it means so much to him. Steve eyeballs him as he steps aside to let Billy into his apartment, absently glancing over to where his space-age phone is charging in case he needs it. ]
You can put it on the table.
[ It's an open-plan apartment but he'd rather direct Billy over to the couch than the bed. Yikes.
Steve rubs the back of his neck. ]
What brought this on? You okay?
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[Ah. There's a whole kitchen, and a bed, and jesus christ, he's not going to be a pussy about this. It's fine. He's fine. ]
Sorry, [for the zoning out. He puts the pizza down, sits and spreads like he is super comfortable and utterly ease in this apartment, with its one double bed, and Steve in Eddie Munson's shirt. The sixpack goes next to him, a hand resting on it, and he taps.] Just had time to think. Figured I might as well try and coexist peacefully now instead of waiting six months like a pussy.
[Co-exist. Existing is pain. He may be so, so tired, but at least being an asshole didn't hurt. He keeps tapping. ] Figured pizza and beer would be a good ice breaker. I brought weed in case I had to butter you up.
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[ He's not (not!!) going to be intimidated by the sight of Billy Hargrove smearing himself all over Steve's space. So, he walks over to unhook a beer and perches on the far armrest of the couch, cracking the tab to take a sip. ]
I haven't seen you in weeks, what exactly are you apologising for?
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[Being dead again would be easier than this - ] Just eat the pizza man. It's the good shit.
[Beer isn't enough: he needs to be so high he's unconscious.
He breathes out, runs a hand through his curls and sighs, leaning forward to open the box. He grabs a slice, takes the first bite because sure, if he were Steve maybe he'd suspect he'd fucked with it. Maybe. ]
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And when he can't stand it any longer, ]
Dude, are you lonely or something? I know this dimension is freaking weird, do you want some company?
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No, you asshat, I'm not lonely. [He has Tinder, okay. ] I can like you enough to bring you pizza without being desperate, Harrington, god. Give yourself some credit.
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I didn't mean it like that, goddamn it. I meant lonely for friends.
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[he has friends Steve - ] - Sorry. I have friends, but we're like. I don't know - it doesn't feel real, right? You feel grounding. Like reality.
[Eddie too, he guesses. Definitely Max, but there's no way he's becoming besties with his kid sister.] This way too deep for pizza, fuck me.
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[ You feel grounding. Eddie's been thriving but he said something similar and Steve doesn't like to leave the guy alone for too many days at a time in case he gets in his own head again about being batfood. Maybe Billy's having a similar crisis about being shish-kabob.
Damn, Steve really is babysitting a bunch of dead guys now, isn't he?
Steve gestures to him with his beer. ]
So, what have you been doing for the past three weeks?
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by that time its well into the evening. he leaves steve to de-clutter his room - and maybe start to pack a little, since they're making the commitment to leave - and heads off for the address billy gave him with a little gift in tow. the knock to the door is less a knock and more a drum solo done with both fists to a familiar tune. ]
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He opens the door as dressed as one might expect: basketball shorts and a cigarette, and not much else. He leans on the door frame, arms crossed and eyes Eddie, gives him a real once over before he nods and moves aside to let him in.]
I’d offer you something but all I got is coffee and some shit they call Belgian beer.
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Careful, Munson, you keep buttering me up like that and I might like you.
[There’s a beat where he fishes around in a kitchen drawer for paper skins, then he comes around, nods at the couch for Eddie to sit. It’s a nice couch, okay. His second nice purchase.
Everything else is a little new-new. Some boxes of furniture he hasn’t gotten round to yet. Framed band posters to be hung. All his energy’s gone into his closet, honestly.
He makes a little grabby hand for the phone and drops the baggy and skins on the box passing for a coffee table.] Give it.
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[ don't mind if he does, flopping down to make himself nice and comfotable in this space he surely isn't meant to be in and tosses the phone lightly to billy. ]
It stared going off like crazy. Dunno what you missed but someone reeeeeally wants your attention.
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You didn’t look? [Billy would’ve, probably. Still, he checks - scrolls, and scrolls, and scrolls and then sits back, smirking.] Dude the future is so fucking weird. [Anyway he’s a rich man -]
- Anyway, what’s up man.
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Not much. Figured we could hang. Make up for not getting to know each other back in town.
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You don’t gotta pretend to like me to keep me from messing with Harrington, Munson. We’re all good here.
[Listen, Eddie’s had time to process. He gets it; gets it enough that he offers Eddie first draw.]
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Look, Hargrove, I get that I wasn't on your radar before - but there's one thing you really should know about me. I don't pretend to like anyone, or anything.
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He scrubs his knuckle over his forehead and lets himself be tired, here. He still can’t quite figure out why his hackles lower around Eddie. Can’t figure out why he wants them to.] Yeah. I guess you don’t.
[They have that in common, he guesses. That and everything else.]
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[ it could've been nice. in another world. ]
You play any instruments?
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ii. thelma, louise, and steve.
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but he's watched his dad do it once or twice. accidentally. other people society wouldn't miss much, people no one goes looking for and never finds. eddie learned a lot in those thirteen years living with edward munson sr., and he'd spent the last seven trying to forget absolutely every bit of it.
and he - he didn't mean to. hit him. escalate this. he's not the one that does the stabbing, he just stands there, wide-eyed and terrified as the choking sounds replace the hammering in his heart.
and then. and then all those old lessons come roaring back. there's blood on steve, blood on billy, and eddie's moving to grip the handles of the knifes. putting his fingerprints all over them.
because... because eddie munson knows how to kill a man. eddie munson knows how to hide a body. eddie knows how to get away with literal murder, but if he fucks up, his boys are taking the fall with him. and looking at billy, face swelling with a bruise, and steve - kind and effortlessly gentle with all of the kids - he doesn't know if he can live with that. ]
Okay, okay... okay... okay. [ each 'okay' gets progressively quieter. a hand - covered in blood, comes up to his mouth as he hunches there over the corpse. tries to think fast. they can claim self-defense. billy's hurt.
he looks up at the two of them, brown eyes wide and slightly teary. ] I - I - I got the record, cops will look at me and won't ask more questions. [ partly to himself and partly to them, looking back at the body. making a choice in that moment. ] It was me. I did this. He - he went for Billy, and I lost it, and you guys tried to stop me. But it was me, okay? All me.
[ his voice is breaking a little. the terror plain. ]