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The Quarry was dark, shadowed and gray and black.
Abandoned, lonely and quiet and still.
Christmas Eve was a silent night but not all was calm and nothing was bright. It was not holly or jolly, not merry or cheery and certainly not festive or whatever else the songs all claimed and as Billy slurped the last remnants of his fourth--fifth?-- can of beer and reached to crack another, he laughed just soft, just broken under his breath and cursed cursed cursed the entire holiday season.
“Christmas is for families, Billy.” Neil had said just a few hours ago, staring at his son just so fucking calmly like he’d just been waiting for a reason, for a chance to kick Billy out. “And I can’t have you being a bad influence on your little sister. Maxine doesn't her first Hawkins Christmas ruined by your bad attitude and the way you keep pretending it’s okay to be a--”
The slurs had hurt, the disgust in Neil’s voice had hurt but Billy didn’t flinch. Billy didn’t blink. He’d stood there on the top step of that shitty little porch and listened to his Dad spit and he didn’t flinch, not when Neil could see, not when any sign of weakness could and would be used against him later.
And when Neil had closed the door and slid the deadbolt cha-chunk locking Billy out of the house and all but banishing him to the cold, Billy had laughed just soft, just broken the same way he laughed right now parked at the edge of the quarry staring into the nothing past the hood of his car.
He wondered if the water way far down below was any warmer than the night air seeping into the Camaro and freezing him solid. Wondered if he put the car in neutral if it would just roll and they’d call it an accident if they ever found him at the bottom of the gorge.
Slurp. Crunch. Crshhhh. Another beer finished. Another beer opened.
Merry fucking Christmas.
It didn’t matter. The season hadn’t been good when Mom was around. The season had only gotten worse after Mom left. Now that Neil had a new family to play pretend with, the season, the day the whole holly jolly mess was just another picture perfect family moment where Billy wasn’t welcome anymore.
Which was fine.
It was fine.
He was… fine.
The growl of another car cut into the miserably oppressive silence and Billy took a too big drink and burped too loud and hoped beyond hope that whoever else was coming to the quarry to drown their loneliness would do the smart thing and park far away.
No such luck of course, because Christmas miracles didn’t come to queer boys who wore their clothes too tight and hair too long and earrings too flashy, not even when the requested miracle was just some goddamn peace and quiet.
Nope, the car pulled in directly next to the Camaro and jerked to the same sort of drunkenly jarring stop Billy had done upon arrival. There was music blaring blasting but the driver didn’t even have the common decency to blast good music. It was some pop star synthesizer rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree and Billy looked down at his newly opened beer, over at the other car, and wondered just how mad he’d be later about wasting a perfectly good drink by winging it at the intrusive asshole who refused to let him mope in silence.
“Billy?” The music turned down. Dome light clicked on. Window rolled down. Billy rolled his own window down just so he’d have better aim at the fucker’s head. The other driver leaned over towards the passenger side and raised their voice, “Billy? Hey man are you-- are you alright?”
“King Steve.” Of course. Billy’s fingers tightened on the beer because okay he seriously might chuck it at the doe eyed, fluffy haired, mouthy fucking snarky, know it all too goddamn pretty for his own goddamn good--
“Shit man.” Steve shook his head and laughed a little, just a little, just enough to make Billy’s heart do something uncomfortable twisting in his chest. “It’s just Steve, alright? I thought we established that. I don’t wanna be King, don’t care about being King and ever since you broke my head open I sure as hell don’t feel like King so--”
“Je-sus-Christ.” Billy thumped the steering wheel with each word, smacking his palm as punctuation to his immediate full body irritation. “Why are you talking so much?”
Steve Harrington, former King, former Captain, current babysitter of Maxine and all her shit head friends and current star of all of Billy’s most recent x-rated dreams, closed his mouth and raised his eyebrows, then lowered his eyebrows and opened his mouth and Christ.
Christ.
If Billy wasn’t six almost seven beers deep he’d be tempted to punch the guy for daring to have such a clueless expression.
If Billy was eight almost nine beers deep he’d be tempted to kiss the guy for daring to be right here at the exact instance he was lonely enough to hurt.
“What do you want, Harrington?” Billy lolled his head back on the head rest and closed his eyes. Gulp gulp gulp, chugging at his beer so he could taste something warmer than the frigid night air. “Don’t you have some fancy pants party to get to? Mommy and Daddy and the Senator? Princess Wheeler and Christmas in Suburbia? What are you foing out here, you’re---you’re stalking me, right? Gonna add me to your super freaky babysitters club?”
“Uh, no to all of that.” Steve shook his head and rummaged in the passenger seat, retrieving a brown paper bag and brandishing it in the window so Billy could see. “I guess I’m here to do the same thing you are.”
“Sure you are.” Billy snorted. Finished a beer. Opened another and pretended his stomach wasn’t roiling cos he hadn’t had enough to eat yet. “Surrrrrrre King Steve--”
“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.”
“Surrrrrrre King Steve.” he repeated louder, just to be an asshole. Just because he could. “Sure you’re out here at the quarry tryna drink yourself to sleep cos anything--”
Blink. He didn’t want to care about this, he didn’t want to care. “--cos anything is better than being home and pretending to be happy.”
“Yeah.” Steve twisted the lid off his bottle and raised it in a mock, miserable cheers. “I hear that.”
“With that family.” Sniff. Billy couldn’t seem to stop the words coming out now. “With that-- Max and Susan and Neil. Don’t wanna be there. Would rather be anywhere but there. Playing family with them. I hate it there.” Sniff. “I hate--”
He stopped. Closed his eyes and focused a second. “What does that mean, ‘you hear that’? What does that mean? You expect me to believe King Steve--”
“Seriously with the King Steve thing again?”
“--doesn’t wanna be safe and cozy warm in his palace decking the halls or hanging boughs of holly or.” Billy didn’t know what rich people did during Christmas. “Or caroling? You go caroling don’t you? In all your prissy sweaters with your parents and with your shitty friends.”
“All my friends.” Steve took a long drink from the bottle and Billy--damn him, Billy turned to watch, sat there and watched the way Steve’s throat moved with each swallow and how his lips looked shiny pink in the overhead light.
Fuck.
“All my friends.” Again, softer. “Cos people with lots of friends and a cozy warm place to stay and great parents definitely spend Christmas Eve trying to get black out drunk at the edge of the quarry, right?”
Billy’s nose scrunched cos-- what?
“Do you think?” Hiccup. A sigh. Another too long drink like Steve was playing catch up with Billy’s seven going on eight beers. “Do you think if I put the car in neutral and let it roll off the edge, they’d find it in the spring and call it an accident?”
“Well shit Steve.” Billy crunched the empty can against the outside of the Camaro door and chucked it out into the looming dark. “That isn’t very spirit of the season of you.”
“The spirit of the season doesn’t apply in cases when no one gives a single shit whether you make till the morning or not.” A beat. Then, “You called me Steve.”
“I’ve had a lot to drink.” Billy only ever called pretty boy King Steve Harrington Steve in his head. When he dreamed. On the very rare occasion when he let himself look. “Don’t read too far into it.”
“Lucky for you, reading isn’t my strong suit. Just ask literally all of my teachers.”
Billy surprised himself by laughing. Snorting almost. Another beer opened and he chuckled through the first drink of the warm watered down cheap shit that had been the only thing left on the shelves in the out of town gas station. It was nasty, but if he drank enough it didn’t matter and if he drank a little more maybe he’d keep finding Steve funny so--
So.
“You look like you’re cold, man.” Steve leaned over a little further, shuffled a few things off the passenger seat like he was making room. “You cold?”
Billy was freezing. Had been freezing before Steve showed up but was absolutely freezing now. “Was doing just fine till your dumb ass rolled down the windows to have a chat.”
“Kay well.” Steve huffed. It was a cute noise, if Billy was the sort to think noises were cute. “Do you wanna come sit in here or are we gonna keep half shouting through the windows?”
“I don’t want to talk.” Lies. He was so lonely he ached with it. “At all.”
“We don’t have to talk.” The locks of the BMW disengaged cha chunk. “Come and sit anyway.”
Mocking. “You cold and lonely, Harrington?”
Honest. “...yeah.”
Shit. Billy gathered up the rest of his beer and turned the car off. Would deny hustling to get to Steve’s car until the day he died but yeah, he hustled out of the Camaro and into the BMW. Slid his ass across those smooth leather seats and was immediately thirty degrees warmer. Jammed the seat back to make room for his legs and was immediately way too close to Steve. Breathing in way too much of that fancy fucking cologne. Staring way too hard at those distractingly pretty lips.
“Are you drinking peppermint schnapps?” The offending bottle was enough to snap Billy out of his daze.
“And eating chocolate?” A whole half dozen chocolate bars sat warm and a little melty on the middle console.
“Who is this singing, is this Stevie Wonder?” Billy couldn’t believe it. “Harrington, what in the fuck are you doing?”
“Oh.” Snort. “Suddenly I’m Harrington again?”
“This is low fat chocolate.” Billy held up the candy bar accusingly. “You’re lucky I’m not callin’ you a bitch.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.” Steve twisted the cap off and offered the bottle over. “Bite of chocolate, shot of this stuff while it’s melting in your mouth, sing a little bit about what Christmas Means to Me with Stevie… it’s a good time.”
“You party like an eighty year old woman.”
Steve just waited, schnapps held high and eyebrows raised and ugh, Billy took it cos of course he did. Bit off a piece of chocolate and swirled it on his tongue. Sealed his lips to the bottle and took a long drink. And, “God I really wanted this to be gross so I could spit chocolate at you, but damn if it isn’t half bad.”
“You spit chocolate at me and I’m gonna break your nose.” Steve said bluntly, calmly. “And yeah, it’s not half bad. Get most of the way through the bottle and it’s about the best thing you’ve ever drank.”
Billy grunted. Took another bite and another pull at the bottle. It wasn’t half bad.
Watching Steve lick melting chocolate off his fingers and lick peppermint liquor off his lips wasn’t half bad either.
“So.” The music turned over to something Blue Christmas and Elvis themed. “What’r’ya doing out here, Billy?”
“I didn’t wanna be at the house with Max and Susan and Neil.” Not a lie. Just not-- not the whole truth. A lot of truth cos fuck all of them, but not-- not the whole truth. Billy didn’t owe Steve the truth, Billy didn’t even know why he was saying this much. Blame it on the fucking peppermint schnapps. “They get to playing perfect family and I uh-- I don't do that. Don’t fit into that. Max isn’t my sister and Susan sure as hell isn’t my mom and I’d rather be here.”
A vague motion to the nothing in front of them. “Rather be here alone than be there dealing with--”
Neil. Respect and Responsibility. Bruises. “--with that.”
Chocolate. Peppermint. Swallow. “What about you? What drove the Princess from his castle?”
“Don’t call me Princess.”
“You don’t wanna be called King, don't wanna be called Princess…” Billy stretched his legs out, alcohol making him lazy, the heater in the BMW making him drowsy. “What the fuck am I supposed to call you?”
“My name is Steve.”
“Meh. It's a shitty name.”
“Jesus.” Another little huff of breath. Shouldn’t have been cute. “I uh-- I didn’t want to be home alone. My parents don’t come home for the holidays anymore so there’s no decorations, no food, no presents. It’s depressing. I had a standing invitation to Nancy’s place but recent events all considered it doesn’t feel right going there and y’know, Mrs. Byers invited me over but that didn’t feel right either with Jonathan and especially since uh-- well Chief Hopper and his kid go over and this year things are just sorta weird with that.”
“What about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?” Billy wanted to know and when Steve glared at him, he clarified with only a tiny smirk, “The toothless kid and Max’s boyfriend. They didn’t invite you over?”
“Dustin goes to Chicago with his mom to see grandparents and me and Lucas are close, but I don’t really know his parents or his sisters.” Steve slanted Billy a look. “By the way, you and me are gonna have a problem if you don’t leave Lucas alone.”
“Last time you and me had a problem I knocked your gorgeous ass out then Max threatened to nail my balls to the floor, so why don’t we call it even?” Billy grunted, just drunk enough to call Steve gorgeous, not drunk enough to meet Steve’s gaze head on when the guy sent an incredulous look his way. “Besides, I don’t have an issue with Lucas. Don’t give a shit about the kid. But my old man.”
Fucking Neil, man.
“My old man would take it real personal if I dared let my precious baby sister hang out with that sorta folk so you know.” He should be more careful about what he was saying, but Billy was warm and the liquor was going down smooth and he didn’t really care. “It’s easier to scare them apart than it is to deal with a fucking talking to cos Neil doesn’t approve. Max can hate me, I don’t give a shit, but I’m not about to get in trouble cos Neil doesn’t like who she hangs out with, fuck that.”
“Huh.” Steve said and that was all he said about it. Just huh like he’d suddenly put two and two together and realized a lot of things made sense.
Or maybe huh like he didn’t give a shit, cos wouldn’t that be Billy’s luck? To finally admit just a little bit of what happened all the damn time at home and the person listening would just say huh and not care?
But then, “Open another chocolate bar, I’m ready for another shot.” Steve said and the way he watched Billy for a few seconds sure made that huh feel like understanding. “You want more?”
“Yeah.” Billy bit into the tip of his tongue till it bled just so he’d make himself look away. “Yeah. I could do more.”
It’s Beginning to Look A Lot like Christmas the radio warbled as they traded drinks back and forth. Celebrate Me Home by a melancholy Kenny Loggins. Paul McCartney’s syncopated funky little Wonderful Christmas Time. The most annoying song ever about Mommy Kissing Santa Claus and Steve didn’t argue when Billy reached to flip the volume down until the noise was over.
“Steve?” A radio crackling to life in the backseat had Billy jumping, spilling half a mouthful of schnapps down the front of his shirt and cursing for it. “Steve, it’s Max. Over.”
Billy cursed again, louder this time and Steve knocked him in the shoulder frowning before grabbing for the radio.
“Hey Max. What’s up, you okay?” A glance at the clock. “It’s late, what are you doing up so late?”
“I know it’s late, I have a clock and two working eyeballs, thanks.” Even over the radio the sarcasm came through thick enough to be physically irritating. “But um listen.”
Softer. Uncertain. “Is there any chance you saw Billy when you went to the store tonight?”
“Billy?” Steve met Billy’s eyes hesitant. “Uh why? What’s up?”
“Neil kicked him out of the house.” Max was whispering trying to be quiet. Billy was sinking down in the seat trying to disappear. “I don’t really know why. Neil kept saying things about family values and how Billy would be a bad influence on me which is bullshit cos after I got him with the nail bat he’s basically a pussy, if anything I’m a bad influence on him but Neil kept talking about Billy’s habits and his interests and I dunno, it sounded like maybe he thinks Billy is que--”
“Max.” Steve cut her off quickly. Gently. Kept one eye on Billy. “What do you want me to do?”
“I just want him to be safe.” Her voice cracked worried. “Will you go out and see if you can find him? He’s got these friends he goes with sometimes, college kids at that bar close to the highway? But it’s Christmas. He shouldn’t be there, he should be home and if he isn’t home…I don’t know.”
Max sounded defeated. Weary. Way too worried for only being fourteen years old. “I don’t know. Just find him for me? Make sure he’s not doing something stupid like driving too fast at the quarry or drinking himself stupid.”
“Don’t worry.” Steve eyed the mostly drank bottle of schnapps and the half finished case of beer. “I’ll track him down, make sure he’s okay for the night. I’ll let you know when I find him.”
“Thanks Steve.”
“Over and out.” The radio clicked off, landed in the backseat and Steve didn’t say a word. Picked up a chocolate bar and broke off a piece and ate it slowly. Licked at his fingers and washed it down with a shot of peppermint and didn’t say a single damn thing.
Billy broke first.
“I didn’t want to be there.” He smacked the flat of his hand on the dashboard then folded his hands, hunched his shoulders defensive. “Don’t want to be at that stupid house with Susan and her shitty cooking and Max being the golden child perfect daughter and Neil acting like everything I do is wrong, even if I’m just sitting there fucking breathing.”
“I didn’t want to be there.” he repeated, less vehemently than before. “But that worked out cos my Dad didn’t want me there either. Doesn’t want me there. Apparently my kind--”
It hurt to swallow. “Apparently my kind is not welcome around a family friendly dinner table for the holidays. Tolerated the rest of the year but not-- not welcome for the holidays.”
“Your kind.” Steve echoed quiet and small, like he recognized the words in a quiet and small part of his soul. “That’s what your old man said, huh?”
“Actually.” The laugh sounded like gravel, felt like glass cutting up his throat, and Bing Crosby sang ‘Do You Hear What I Hear’ while Billy tried and tried to forget how it had felt to hear Neil say all that shit.
“Actually.” Again. “The old man said I’d already done a good enough job of ruining California, he wasn’t going to let me ruin Maxine’s first Christmas in Hawkins. Fresh start for his new family and there wasn’t room at the table for a-- for me being--”
“Billy.” Whispered. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’m gay, Harrington.” There it was. One word, three letters, somehow apparently the most damning syllable in human history. “Gay. I’m-- I’m queer. A fag. A fairy. And that makes me not appropriate for my precious little sister so I’m not welcome.”
He was going to be sick. “Not at Christmas. Not for family time. Which is-- you know, fuck them anyway. I didn’t want to be there anyway. It’s fine.”
It was fine. Billy’s eyes burned as he felt around for another can and he blamed the gathering tears on how goddamn awful cheap beer tasted after so many shots of peppermint.
He was fine.
“So.” Steve drummed his fingers at the steering wheel. Scratched at his chin. At the beauty marks on his throat. Ran his hand through his hair and pursed his lips to blow out a breath and just when Billy was ready to wrench the door open and bolt, Steve finally finished, “So that’s why you always stare at me in the locker room, huh? Not cos I drive you crazy but cos I drive you--”
He winked, finger gunned like an absolute loser and dragged the word out playfully teasing,. “Cuh-raaaay-zee?”
“Fuck you Harrington.” There was no heat behind the words. Just relief that tasted like finally being able to breathe. All the shit Steve could’a said and he’d gone and said that nonsense and it-- it felt like maybe Billy could finally breathe. “How did you know I was staring at you unless you were staring at me?”
It was meant to throw Steve for a loop, meant to end the moment, move past the subject, make Steve self conscious so he’d go back to drinking instead of watching Billy with something soft and understanding in his eyes.
“Damn I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought I was.” Steve said instead of all the other things Billy thought he would say and-- and what?
What?
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re mean as fuck and more obnoxious than an entire fucking gaggle of teenagers but,” Another one of those pursed lips loud breaths. “Maybe we should’a been looking out for each other the last few months instead of fighting. Or ignoring. Or whatever the fuck we’ve been doing.”
Billy just looked at him. Didn’t know what to say and just looked at him and Steve just looked back waiting.
“Did uh.” Fuck. Seriously? “Did Wheeler fuck you up that much? Broke your heart so you figured you’d try guys?”
“Mmmm no.” Steve took a slow drink from the bottle, flushing just enough to be distracting, just enough for Billy to know he was telling the truth. “No, I-- it was-- you know. Before Nancy. Figured out I liked… both… and that’s just how I’ve always been? Never seemed to matter since Nancy was my first real relationship and hey come to find out, it wasn’t even a real fucking relationship just a whole lotta bullshit so--”
He swallowed. Stopped. “Doesn’t matter. Point is I like… both.”
“Both.”
“Girls.” Steve nodded a few times. Very clearly the first time he’d ever said it out loud and that made the moment feel maybe-- maybe sacred. “And guys. Boys. You know?”
“I know that makes you a whore.” Billy stated immediately, deadpan and dry and Steve barked out a surprised laugh. “Fucking greedy. You ran through all the girls and then what, were gonna run through all the guys too? I know I told you plenty of fish in the sea but goddamn Harrington. Leave some for the rest of us, Jesus. You’re just straight up selfish.”
“I don’t know if I’m straight up anything.” Steve blushed harder, laughed louder and Billy laughed too cos he just couldn’t believe it.
Dolly Parton was singing from her whorehouse about a Hard Candy Christmas when Steve finally quit laughing about the whole conversation and when he sobered up, so did Billy.
“So listen.” Steve started, and Billy braced himself. “Listen uh, there’s no way you’re sleeping out here tonight. You can crash at my place.”
Oh.
“Oh.” Blink blink. “You don’t gotta say that just cos you know my-- cos you know about-- Just cos we’re both sorta--”
“No, it’s not that.” Steve shook his head. “It isn’t like I wanna go home alone anyway, that was the whole reason I was out here drinking. But it’s supposed to get really cold tonight, you’ll freeze to death in that shitty car of yours and Max asked me to look out for you. I’ve got like four guest bedrooms and three bathrooms… there’s room for you. If you want. Come and crash with me.”
“Ooooh Merry Christmas to me.” Billy taunted cos the offer made him quake and he didn’t know what to do about that. “I get to spend the holidays in Castle Harrington?”
“Well.” Steve paused. “You can if you want.”
“If I want what?”
“To spend the holidays at my place.” Steve shrugged like he wasn’t probably saving Billy’s life just then, like it was perfectly normal for him to invite a former enemy turned minor irritant turned… confidant? To sleep over for some undetermined amount of time. “Spend the night, spend the day tomorrow or if your Dad doesn’t want you back around till New Years, stay till New Years. It’s fine by me.”
“New Years.” The chocolate bar was melting in Billy’s hands and he squished at it anxiously. “That’s like a week away. You’d let me stay a whole week?”
Steve nodded and Billy pointed out, “i almost killed you a couple months ago.”
“I’ve faced scarier things than a pissed off Billy Hargrove.” There was something dark glittering in Steve’s eyes, pulling at the edges of his mouth, scratching rough at his words that made Billy believe it. “Besides, now I know you get all sloppy drunk off peppermint schnapps and chocolate like an old lady and I’m gonna hold that over your head forever.”
“Fuck you and your peppermint tasting blackmail.” Billy accused and Steve laughed again, bright like Christmas lights against the dark of the looming quarry. “You uh-- you got any mistletoe in that big ass place of yours?”
“Not a single sprig.” Steve teased faux solemnly. “Your virtue is safe.”
“And uh.” Billy dragged his tongue over his teeth and along his bottom lip, bold with alcohol loosening his words and brave with Steve still watching him not judging or hating but understanding. “If I don’t care about my virtue staying safe?”
He reached to curl his fingers into Steve’s jacket, tugged pulled coaxed until they met over the middle console nose to nose, barely breathing, mouths only an inch apart. “What then?”
“What are you doing right now, Billy?” Steve exhaled and Billy took a chance, “Stop me whenever you fuckin’ feel like it, Princess…”
…Steve kissed him first. Closed the bare distance between them and covered Billy’s mouth with his own. Threaded his fingers into Billy’s hair and tugged pulled coaxed until Billy shifted pressing closer, licking at Billy’s lips chasing the taste of peppermint and chocolate like Christmas on their tongues.
And-- and wow.
“Shit.” Billy thought maybe if he opened his eyes he’d realize he’d only been dreaming. “Shit, Steve.”
“Let’s get going.” Steve whispered, still close enough for their mouths to brush. “I’m suddenly really looking forward to Christmas.”
“You’re a goddamn sap about all this, Harrington.” Billy whispered back. Stole the shape of Steve’s smile right into another kiss. Swallowed the quietly pleased noise Steve made when he pushed the kiss deeper for another heart pounding, stomach swooping few seconds. “But--but yeah. Let’s go.”
They were halfway back to the Harrington house when the radio crackled to life again. The Camaro was left behind at the quarry, the keys secure in Billy’s pocket and Steve had his pinky finger hooked through Billy’s pinky finger as he drove. It was sappy and stupid and too innocent for the way Billy’s heart was pounding, holy shit, and then--
“Sorry Steve.” Max again, breaking into the peaceful quiet and about startling Billy halfway out of his seat. “But it’s been an hour and I didn’t want to sleep until I knew. Did you find him?”
Steve unhooked their pinkies to reach for the radio. “Yeah Max. I found him. He’s okay for the night.”
“Is he staying with you?” Hushed and cautious so no one would over hear. “Or with those other guys? I'd feel better if he was with you, I know you guys can barely stand to be in the same room as each other but he’s my brother, Steve. I don’t want him alone for Christmas. Just for tonight do you think--”
“Max.” Billy took the radio. Rehooked his pinky through Steve’s. Definitely did not react when Steve looked over surprised and maybe pleased. “Maxine.”
“...Billy?”
“I’m fine for the night.” The radio played something slow and romantic and sweet as Steve turned down main street and passed the brightly lit church. The different colored Christmas lights shone over the car turning the dashboard into a kaleidoscope of red and green and blue for a few beautiful seconds and Billy-- Billy sort of loved it.
All is calm, all is bright.
“Seriously, I’m fine. Go the fuck to sleep.”
“Well.” Nervous. “Where are you?”
“With Steve.” A tug at his pinky. Billy would drive off a cliff before admitting to returning it. “But don’t tell--”
“I won’t.” she interrupted quick. “I wouldn’t ever tell. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“I’m fine.” Billy meant it that time.
“Kay.” A breath. “Merry Christmas, Billy.”
“Yeah. Merry… Christmas.” Billy tossed the radio away and slanted a glare at Steve. “Don’t wanna hear a word about any of that outta you. Just cos she was nice once and I was nice back doesn’t mean anything.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Steve smiled and it felt like a promise. It felt too intimate so Billy snarked, “Oh, Steve Harrington without anything to say? It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“Yeah well.” Steve turned the radio up, hummed a few bars of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas and steered the car up Loch Nora heading towards the house. “‘Tis the season, right?”
“Tis the season.” Another tug at his pinky and this time Billy tangled their fingers together and gave Steve’s hand a proper squeeze. “Merry fucking Christmas.”