Archive of Our Own

There was a chill in the air when Steve closed up shop at Family Video. Not surprising, since autumn had started to creep into Hawkins that week. Still, Steve couldn’t help the full body shudder that passed through him. Worse was when he had to close up alone now that Robin was back in school. He felt like whipping his head around to scan the area, checking to make sure there were no monsters lurking in the shadows, nothing moving in the flickering street lights.

He wished he could convince his mind that such fears were unfounded, but Steve has watched people die from what’s hidden in Hawkins’ underbelly. And he’s not sure that it’s finally all behind them. Apart from the fact that it hadn’t been over the past two times, Steve’s been having these… feelings. Like he’s being watched. Like there’s someone, or something, within those shadows around every corner.

He shook off the feeling for now, he’s too tired to deal with anything besides driving home and collapsing on his perpetually unmade bed. He’s fortunate, in this one aspect, that there was no one at home he could possibly wake up with the lights he would leave on to chase away the dark.

After slamming the car door just a little too forcefully, Steve started his car and made his way out of the parking lot.

Steve hated closing up alone for another reason. Before, he would drive Robin home, her chatter was a welcome distraction from the unending thoughts that converse his deepest fears. She would never call out the dark circles blooming under his eyes, either. Now, in his passenger-less car, he had to blast music she would call “typical” to drown it all out.

Maybe, if he hadn’t been totally drowning out every noise besides Duran Duran, he would have heard the road cracking before he saw it, before his car careened over the sudden fissure that, no matter how hard Steve tried, he could not make his car reverse or avoid the black pit that swallowed him whole.

The black seemed unending, and it was hard to breathe. As if the darkness itself had enveloped him in a crushing embrace, one he couldn’t shake. No noise left his mouth, no matter how hard he tried to yell out.

Maybe this was one of his nightmares, Steve thought feebly. It wouldn’t be the first time that phantom pains littered his body, memories of Russian torturers made real. Usually though, when he realized it was only a dream, he could will himself back to consciousness. This felt different, however. Steve wasn’t necessarily scared, but he felt pinned.

A thought nagged him, he didn’t remember making it back to his house, and it was like a cold bucket of water got doused on him when he finally did remember. He was in his car and now—

Now he couldn’t open his eyes.

Panic gripped him as the event replayed in his mind. He fell into a pit in the middle of the fucking road.

Steve thrashed again from invisible restraints. He felt something cold against the skin of his arm, like metal. He tastes metal too. Which, fuck— there’s blood in his mouth. But he could hear himself breathe now. His senses were slowly returning, and pain crawled into his body.

Finally, he eked his eyes open. He saw little detail, only knowing he was still in his car from the little bit of light cast from his radio. The numbers read upside down for some reason. A moment later Steve realized he was the one in the wrong.

His head was angled uncomfortably against the roof of his car. His car had completely flipped over, and Steve’s body laid like a pretzel out of his seat. He groaned and attempted to right himself, but there was little room to move.

Steve sighed. His car was probably totaled anyway, and it was lucky he seemed okay. So, he moved his legs around and, with as much force as he could muster, broke his windshield, popping it off with kick.

Careful of the glass, Steve crawled his way out of his car and onto the cracked earth. Before he could gather his bearings, however, he broke out into a violent cough.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it until now, prayed the chill down his spine was wrong. But when he looked up, he saw Hell on earth. The Upside Down.

Steve wanted to scream; except he was still coughing. God, did he inhale something fucked up? The thought sent a wave of nausea through him.

After he found his bearings, crawling on his knees away from the totaled car, Steve finally got himself under control. There were tears trickling down his face, involuntary and from his coughing fit. But when he went to wipe them away, Steve’s right arm twinged in sharp pain. Damn it. He must have sprained it, or, as he inspected the damage with his relatively unharmed left arm, dislocated it.

Further inspection saw some minor tearing of his clothes but, other than some blooming bruises, nothing of note. Steve was pretty lucky like that, always getting hurt but not enough for it to be permanent. Sure, some may say that’s none too lucky, but for Steve, it was the best he could hope for.

Steve forced himself upright onto his feet and part of him wished he just stayed in the car. The Upside Down truly was a hellscape. It resembled Hawkins, but only in the way a nightmare twisted one’s dreams.

Steve tried to think about where he was adjacent to where he crashed. He was on the backroads, passing by stretches of woods. The light posts were still standing in this place, yet they didn’t illuminate his path. No, the crackling lighting though the crimson sky did that plenty.

As he looked around his car, on the ground and in the sky, there were no signs of the crack or fissure or portal or whatever the hell that dropped him here. No, that would be too easy, Steve thought.

Rather than stay by his car and wait, because what were the chances of lightning striking twice, Steve started to walk down the road to his house.

Perhaps he was too calm as he practically took a leisurely stroll down the woods. Perhaps the fleeting adrenaline from the crash left him bereft of any true fear. Perhaps Steve just figured this might as well happen. This was Hawkins, where people got lost or abducted or died. Teenagers who died, teenagers who weren’t Steve, never Steve. Perhaps it was finally his time, having avoided it by sheer luck until now.

He tried not to think about it, but once the seed was planted, it took root.

Barb, who he still felt responsible for.

Will, who came back alive but so deeply changed.

And all of the Flayed. Starting with Billy.

Billy.

Steve tried not to think about him the most, but the blond made his way into his thoughts regardless. Remembering when Billy rolled into town, blasting Metallica from his Camaro. When he sized Steve up at the Halloween party. Anytime he played Steve during practice. Then that fight at the Byers. Those details were the fuzziest, probably from being knocked out. Still, it was in his Billy catalogue. Something he unintentionally started to file after Billy, with bruises Steve was sure he didn’t inflict littering his body, actually apologized to Steve.

He apologized one day after basketball practice, outside the gym after catching Steve before he went home. It was after everyone else had left, likely so no one else would see him do it. But he did it, and Steve thought he meant it.

After that, it was pretty easy to let his grudges go. They weren’t really worth the hassle anyway. Unfortunately, anytime he saw the blond after that, anytime they were in practice together, passing each other in the hall, and whenever they were with their designated children, their interactions, no matter how brief, got filed away in Steve’s brain to resurface later in the evenings.

They would just pop up, totally unbidden. Most of the time, Steve could just brush the thoughts aside. Other times, they stuck around, and Steve was left with a strange tingling feeling in his gut. And once, only once, did Billy materialize in his mind when he was jacking off.

He had been so startled by the rogue picture of Billy, sweaty and in his gym shorts, that he came right then and there. He had laid there in his bed for minutes, or maybe hours, so thoroughly stunned and rung out. Steve hadn’t been sure what to make of it, or himself, for weeks after.

Then, the Fourth of July happened. Billy and a chunk of Hawkins were dead. He saw Billy die right in front of him. And… Steve didn’t know how to feel. They weren’t friends, they were simply not-enemies. But the grief never really left Steve. What was left was a strange combination of guilt and longing for what never really existed.

Steve was at the foot of his drive before he realized. Was the Upside Down always this empty? He had yet to even catch a whiff of monsters on his precarious walk. Still, he’d rather not test his luck anymore more than he had to.

It’s unsurprising how unchanged his house felt in this place. It’s empty and cold, just how it always was.

At least, that’s how it was on first inspection. As Steve walked further and into the kitchen, his eyes immediately trained to the counters, where the utensils were scattered.

If Steve hadn’t been taking careful steps since he landed here, he’d be tiptoeing now.

He knew that the Upside Down was some kind of snapshot from years ago, but Steve didn’t remember anyone ever reorganizing in his kitchen in such a way. Maybe he himself had on some sleepless night, but only AFTER the FIRST worst night of his life.

Which meant something had been rummaging around, and Steve wasn’t as alone as he thought.

He tried not to make any sudden movements, using his eyes and minute turns of his head to peer around the shadowed corners of a house not quite his own. He forced his nerves to remain calm and his eyes to still. No use in panicking without a weapon.

Steve scanned for a knife but found the counters lacking. Not even a goddamn butter knife could be found in the scatterings of cutlery. It definitely struck him as odd. He didn’t think the monsters knew how to use weapons. Even thinking of such a combination made Steve involuntarily shudder.

A thought of Barb, alone and scared, invaded his mind. Was this her doing? Steve thought. But Nancy had once told him, when his curiosity and guilt outweighed his sense, when he asked about her fate, that Barbara Hollands never made it out of his pool.

Steve quickly shut down his line of thinking. He needed to stay composed, lest he be caught unaware. Still, there didn’t appear to be anything he could use as a weapon in here.

It was as he resolved to check the garage for a tire iron when Steve heard a creak. A creak he knew, on the third step from the top of the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. He’d heard it nearly every day since he was a kid, coming down from his own room.

Steve held his breath, not even threatening to make a sound as he waited. He should have crouched behind the counters and hid from whatever was approaching. But his body wouldn’t let him. He was frozen, like an idiot, just waiting for whatever monster to come into sight before it rushed him and ripped him apart.

Except, it wasn’t some amalgamation of hell and science that he saw.

It was long blond hair and a weathered leather jacket. It was Billy Hargrove.

At first, Steve just stood there as the ghost stared back. They stayed like that for a while. Neither made a move, Steve didn’t even know if either of them blinked. The first to make a move was the dead man.

“Harrington?” Was all that was uttered, quiet and disbelieving. Which Steve thought was ridiculous. He was the one seeing a ghost. Not the other way around.

“Hargrove?” Steve echoes. His memories were going back to the Fourth of July. How the other was skewered and should in no way be standing there. But there he was, hair longer than it had been that past summer. His skin wasn’t as tan, but Billy hadn’t lost his muscular build. If anything, his muscles looked even more defined, at least, his biceps did. Which was not what Steve should be focused on. He should focus on the fact that neither of them had moved in several minutes.

“Are you real?” Billy’s voice, which sounded far smaller than Steve had ever heard it, filled the space between them.

Steve didn’t mean to stay silent, but he was so stuck in the surreal that he had no clue how to respond. And the longer Steve’s mind refused to give voice to his thoughts, the more the light from Billy’s eyes, the gentle hope, that Steve hadn’t realized was there until it dampened, faded completely.

“No, of course not,” Billy scoffed, seemingly to himself, and moved to turn away. The hunching of the blonde’s shoulders and the bitter look of defeat finally, finally, sprung Steve into action.

“No— Billy! I— I mean, is that really you?” Steve asked. “I mean— you’re alive,” which he was, if not looking a little worse for wear. Billy was pale, even with his tan being gone, no doubt from months in this sunless place. He hadn’t lost any muscle, surprisingly. But the protective fat was gone. Steve wondered if it was possible to get anything good in your stomach here.

Steve realized he was staring again. Yet, Billy stared just as much.

“Alive?” Muttered Billy.

“Yeah, I— How did you— I mean, this is obviously good, I just mean…” Great, Steve thought, he finally found his voice and all he could say was gibberish. Taking a breath, Steve started again. “The mind flayer, we thought it killed you. How did you end up here?”

Billy stood blankly, but Steve saw him unclench just a little.

“How are you here?” Billy asked, seemingly ignoring Steve’s question entirely.

“My car, it fell into some fissure in the ground, and a gate opened up,” Steve tried to explain, but Billy looked like he wasn’t really getting it. His head tilted, kind of like a puppy, at Steve’s explanation. Which was fair, Steve thought. Billy might not know anything about the Upside Down, not like Steve did anyway. “A portal, I mean. To the Upside Down, which is here. The kids named it that, I’m not sure why. Something from their game, I think.”

“Max?” Billy’s eyes flickered with life.

“Well, Max joined later, when your family moved here.” Steve tried to keep Billy’s mind focused; it looked like he was starting to regain some sense. “It’s a really long story. Basically, this is, uh… some kind of alternate dimension. There’s this girl El, she can open the gates, the portals. It’s what started all this, I think. You met her, you…” saved her life. And then didn’t die, apparently.

A flicker of recognition sparked Billy’s eyes. He furrowed his brow and looked away from Steve. “This is…” Billy thickly swallowed, “I’m not…”

Steve stayed quiet but inched closer to the other boy while Billy’s eyes stuck to the floor.

“I— I remember the mall,” Billy stuttered. “That girl, Eleven. She… And I… The monster, it was inside me.” Steve could see him fight the full-body shudder. Billy started to go quiet again, his eyes clouded.

Before he could retreat completely, before he took up that awful lost look again, Steve, just inches from Billy, brought his left, uninjured, hand up and grasped the other boy’s shoulder.

Billy flinched; his eyes darted back up to Steve’s. They’re afraid, but a gleam of hope brought the light back in. They shone with unshed tears. Still, Billy didn’t move away. It was so unlike the Billy that often invaded Steve’s mind, the one that would rather shy away than ever be seen, to ever be perceived as weak.

Instead, Billy looked like he wanted to fall against Steve. Just tip the rest of his weight and fall where Steve would definitely catch him. Steve wouldn’t mind, actually.

Now wasn’t the time, unfortunately. He gave Billy a squeeze from his hand and brought his focus back to the present.

“We should get back to my car,” Steve told him. “Maybe we can find the gate.”

“No,” Billy muttered, stepping back from Steve. He didn’t take it personally, or tried not to, at least. “There’s nothing anymore, I don’t feel it.”

“Wait,” Steve took pause. “You know when a gate is open?”

“I think, maybe.”

“Billy, that’s great!” Steve stepped forward again. Billy looked like he wanted to step back but he held his ground. Steve didn’t press his luck and kept his hands to himself this time.

“I can’t… I haven’t been able to get to them in time. And I thought…” Billy shook his head. “Besides, it’s not safe out there. I’m surprised you managed to get here unscathed, Harrington. I’m impressed.” Billy, still shadowed with fear Steve understood all too well, smirked at him. And just like that, Steve was back in gym class, back in school hallways, and back under the throes of Billy Hargrove. If he ever left it, that is.

Steve smiled back and hoped it looked genuine instead of intimidated. Because that’s what Steve was feeling, intimidation.

“So, should we hunker down for the night?” Steve asked.

“Is it night?” Billy responded, genuinely surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve laughed awkwardly. “At least, it was when I crashed. Not sure how long I was out for.”

“Are you okay?” It was Billy who stepped forward this time, leaving very little room between them. Billy’s hand made an aborted gesture, like he wanted to check Steve’s head.

“A little bruised up, right arm’s fucked, but I think I’ll be fine. I made it all the way here, didn’t I?”

Billy huffed in amusement before stepping back, noting Steve’s arm warily. “Yeah, you did.”

They stood in silence once again. This time, it bordered on comforting. Still, Steve was tired and more than a little banged up. He wondered if there were any supplies around to stabilize his arm. The longer the pain went on, the surer he was that it was sprained, at the very least.

Before he could ask Billy though, the other boy was backing away again and heading towards the stairs. He turned to nod at Steve, silently asking him to follow.

Steve did and wondered where they were headed. It was still his house, as creepy as it was, so he knew there were only bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs. Yet, walking up the stairs, Steve caught sight of barricades sitting aside some doors, boardings on windows, and that was just in the hallway.

Steve didn’t actually expect Billy to stop in front of his own bedroom door, but he waltzed in like it was his own. And looking around the once familiar room, maybe it was. Most of his stuff looked like it was still around, but there were makeshift crates holding all sorts of odds and ends. Also, Steve finally saw where all the knives went. Billy had weapons strewn about the entire room. Easy access, Steve supposed. It looked like Billy was keeping busy during his time in the Upside Down.

Steve was pulled out of his thoughts by Billy, who turned back to him with what looked like a makeshift sling. Steve gave Billy a questioning glace.

Billy shrugged halfheartedly in response. Still, Steve gratefully took the offering. Before he could get too far with his fumbling, attempting to put it on one-handed, Billy huffed again and moved forward to help.

Steve froze for a moment when Billy took the sling, letting the blond move around him to properly put it on him. His movements were controlled and stiff, like he was afraid to touch Steve at all. And when he did, Billy acted like he was being shocked; every soft brush of his bare hand against Steve’s coated arm caused Billy to flinch away. They weren’t obvious, but as Steve held still, they were the only thing he could focus on.

When Billy finished, he backed away again, eyes tilted to the ground.

Steve didn’t understand this version of Billy. It’s not like he couldn’t though. Steve changed a good bit himself after his first encounter with the Upside Down’s dangers. And Billy, nearly, Steve thought now, died to it. His body was broken and bloody the last Steve saw and, despite how strange it was that Billy was now in front of him at all now, Billy’s still broken. Maybe not on the outside, but in the way Will changed when he came back.

There’s a haunted and hollow look to Billy. He was scared and didn’t know how to act. On top of it all, Steve didn’t think anyone’s ever been in the Upside Down this long. Alone. Steve wondered what Billy had gone through on his own, with no one to even talk to, much less touch.

Steve would think seeing him now, seeing anyone at all, would make Billy at least a little happy. Yet, he looked wary of it all.

Still, Steve nodded and smiled at him. “Thanks, Hargrove.”

But Billy, not looking up at Steve, just frowned. Not quite the response Steve was hopping for, honestly.

They stood in silence again, wrong and awkward. Steve didn’t know how to fix it, either. He wanted to fix it though. And fix Billy in some way. Bring those sparks of confidence back, the ones Steve always thought about at night in association with the other boy.

Steve looked around, hoping for some conversation starter in the heap of supplies scattered around the room. What he did notice was the rumbled sheets on his bed. Steve knows they’re his, the blanket and pillows, they haven’t changed in years.

“Have you been staying in my room?” Was what Steve eventually asked and immediately regretted. Billy visibly stiffened, boring his eyes, widened like he’d just been caught, deeper into the carpet.

Steve should have just dropped it and looked away, give Billy some privacy in whatever was going on in his head. But he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the blush, obvious without Billy’s tan, flushing his face in color.

Steve didn’t get the chance to… what? Apologize? Change the subject? Whatever, before Billy shuffled past him.

“Just get some rest, Harrington,” was all Billy said before he deserted Steve in the heavily fortified bedroom.

Steve stood there, stunned and questioning in Billy’s wake. Should he follow? Steve questioned himself. No, he didn’t think Billy would appreciate being pressed right now. Steve wouldn’t, in his situation. Whatever the situation is, that is. Better to just let him cool off.

Besides, Steve was starting to feel the exhaustion of an entire day of customer service compounded with the crash. Better approach Billy again once he’d gotten some shut eye.

The only thing he took off was his shoes. The Upside Down wasn’t cold necessarily, but it left him bereft of warmth none the less. And better if he needed to leave in a hurry.

Sitting down on the unmade bed, Steve felt the fabric between his fingers. Still the same. Maybe a little worn, a little frayed around the edges. He wondered why Billy was sleeping in here when there’s a much bigger and better bed in the master.

Some embarrassed hope bubbled in Steve’s chest, thinking about Billy choosing his room on purpose. He should shake off the pointless thought. Instead, he lied his head on his pillow and, mortifyingly, inhaled the scent he’s sure wasn’t his own, nor was it the stale scent of the Upside Down. No, it was all Billy’s. Any resonating musk of Steve’s that could have transferred over from the real world was most definitely swallowed up by the essence of Billy Hargrove.

It's not like Steve didn’t know what he was, what he was doing. He liked Billy. A lot. More than was healthy, probably. It’s like his mind and body were working in sync against him, forcing the thought and feel of Billy into every corner of Steve’s mind now that he knows the other boy was alive and real.

Steve was incredibly grateful that his body was too tired to do anything embarrassing about all these thoughts. And it wasn’t hard to let himself drift into a light sleep, despite the greater surroundings.

Steve didn’t think he had been asleep for more than a couple of hours when he felt himself stirring. His eyes only squinted open, Steve made out the figure of someone two feet away, watching him.

He didn’t mean to, but he jolted in bed, inhaling a sharp breath at the shadowed figure. They didn’t move at Steve’s display. As his eyes adjusted, the obvious form of Billy filled out, sitting in the desk chair by the bed. Steve exhaled a relieved sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Steve quietly asked, the silence seemingly drowning him out.

It took Billy a few moments to respond. Steve was about to ask again when Billy eked out a heartbreaking question.

“You’re real?”

Steve shuddered at the small and pitiful voice. Billy looked so small all of a sudden. Really, he looked his age in a way Steve never saw back in Hawkins. They’re just a couple of kids and Billy didn’t know if he could trust what he was seeing.

Steve sat up, not breaking eye contact with Billy. “Yeah, I’m real.”

“This isn’t a dream?” Billy remained still as Steve shuffled closer to the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re not dreaming, Billy.”

“I’ve had dreams,” Billy thickly swallowed, “like this before. They’re never real.”

Steve outstretched his hand towards him. “This isn’t a dream. I’m real, I’m here.”

Billy looked at his hand, a plea in his watery eyes. And with a shaking hand, Billy reached back. It took Billy some time, but when they touched, just their fingers tips, Billy let out a wracked sigh, filled with relief and sadness.

Steve took the chance and reached further, taking hold of Billy’s trembling fingers. He tugged some, motioning for Billy to sit down next to him. Billy stilled for a fraction before getting up from the chair and carefully sitting next to Steve.

Steve didn’t let go of Billy’s hand, resting them in the space between them on the sheets. Billy didn’t try to pull away. He actually gripped Steve’s hand just as firm.

They sat in a different kind of silence then. One of grief and understanding. Steve was content to stay silent too. But Billy spoke up.

“I had dreams, sometimes. They always seemed so real. We would be in this room together, but I could never reach you. If I did, I would just wake up.” Tears were freely flowing from Billy’s eyes as he spoke. Steve squeezed their conjoined hands. After a shuddered breath, Billy continued. “I thought I died. I thought this place was… That I…”

“Oh, Billy,” Steve languished in the boy’s confession.

“I thought I deserved it, after everything. All those people…”

“No! No, Billy. That wasn’t your fault,” Steve shifted closer, forcing Billy to look him in the eyes. “Ok? It wasn’t your fault and your not being punished. This place, it’s just, like, way out of anyone’s wheelhouse. And—and I’m not sure how you got here but we’re both going to get out, ok?”

Billy just looked at him, clear and beautiful ocean eyes focused only on Steve. And Steve wished the circumstances were better. Wished they were somewhere safe. Wished they were in his real room, holding hands.

“Will you stay this time?” Billy quietly pleaded with him. He might still think this was a dream, Steve thought. If there was anything—

“Is there anything I can do, to make you believe me?” Steve pressed. “Anything I haven’t done in your dreams?”

Billy hesitated; eyes darted away again. Yet, his hand remained firm in Steve’s grasp.

Billy swallowed and looked back into Steve’s eyes and then his lips. His other hand came into Steve’s view, slowly raising it to Steve’s neck, then chin, and finally his cheek. Billy trembled; his touch was featherlight and Steve wished his right hand was free to reassure him, to hold firm Billy’s gentle and uncertain touch.

Instead, he waited Billy out and returned his gaze. Steve was starting to think he’d wait forever for Billy, even before, on the nights after the Fourth of July.

He didn’t need to wait for much longer, though. Billy seemed to make up his mind.

His lips were cracked and dry when they met Steve’s, not that Steve’s were much better off. Billy didn’t push the kiss deeper and Steve didn’t want to spook him. However, even with as light as the touch was, Steve would be content to stay just like this for as long as Billy wanted.

Billy did move away though, just a couple inches, and they stared at each other, basking in what they just did. It’s then that Steve realizes the gravity of the kiss.

Billy kissed him. He kissed Billy.

And it was exactly what he’s been wanting, needing, these past months. No, before then, even. Since Billy strolled into his life. Since he put Steve on a crash course that could only ever end like this. And it almost didn’t. Billy could have died.

But Billy was alive. He was here.

Steve freed his hand from Billy’s and before Billy could get the wrong idea, Steve wrapped him in a one-armed embrace. Steve felt a quiver work through Billy’s body and Billy quickly returned his hold.

Careful of Steve’s hurt arm, leaving just enough space so he wouldn’t hurt Steve, Billy enclosed Steve in his body. His arms were strong, even if Steve thought they, and everything else about Billy, was much too thin.

Steve felt it against his chest before he heard it. As if the invisible bubble of silence had finally popped, a sob broke out of Billy.

Steve gently rubbed Billy’s back. “I got you.”

Steve’s reassurance seemed to let Billy fall apart further. He tucked his tear-stained face into Steve’s neck and Steve buried his hand in Billy’s hair, keeping him there to break apart in Steve’s embrace.

His own vision went blurry with tears and, in an act of comforting and self-comfort alike, pressed his lips on Billy’s brow. The blonde gasped a watery breath and Steve whispered solaces in response.

They stayed like that for some time until Steve could no longer stifle his yawn. Billy laughed, its own tired and blessed thing, and pulled away from Steve.

“I think you should lay down for a few,” Billy commented, his voice hoarse. He untangled himself from Steve and tried to get up off the bed, but Steve latched on and refused to let go of his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Steve asked.

“I thought that you’d want…” Billy trailed off, his face heated.

“Come on,” Steve simply said, pulling Billy back to the bed, shuffling to make space for the other boy next to him.

Billy paused, like a deer in headlights, staring between Steve and the spot he had made for him. Steve huffed in amicable amusement, letting go to pat the sheets.

Billy finally decided, swallowing hard, he shucked his shoes and jacket off. Steve, realizing his own cheeks feel warm, decided to also shed his outer layer.

As they got comfortable, Steve fought his greatest battle of wills, trying not to ogle Billy’s still well-defined body. It’s really unfair, Steve thought, how Billy made grime and well-worn clothes look far more attractive than they had any right to be.

Playing with fire, Steve reached his hand, after they pulled the covers back over their bodies, and found Billy’s. Billy, turning his head, his matted curls falling his front of his face, squeezed them together. And Steve couldn’t help but beam at the small smile Billy allowed himself. It seemed to make Billy laugh, a soft chuckle bubbling up from his chest at, what Steve assumes is, his wide, giddy grin.

They go to sleep like that, drifting on looking at each other’s faces.

When Steve woke up this time, Billy still stared at him with awe. Thankfully, the grief had vanished from his eyes and was replaced with wonder.

“Good morning,” Steve smiled, rubbing his eyes clear of sleep.

“You stayed,” Billy responded with awe.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve assured him. “You can’t get rid of me, Hargrove.” Not now and not ever, Steve caught himself thinking. And maybe it was too soon to think in those terms, too fast, but they felt right in his heart and mind.

“Billy.”

“What?” Steve sat up, throwing a questioning look to Billy, who looked like he wanted the bed to swallow him whole.

“Nothing, I just…” Steve didn’t think he would ever get tired of watching Billy blush. “I like it when you say my name.”

Billy groaned at his own admission and buried his face in the pillow next to Steve. And Steve didn’t mean to, but he laughed. Not loud, just incredulously and pleased.

Still hiding his face away from Steve, Billy didn’t see the grin breaking out on the brunet’s face and Steve used this to his advantage, leaning close to Billy’s head and whispered, as sultry as he thought possible for himself, “Billy.”

Steve anticipated the jolt and whipping of Billy’s head, turning around with almost comically wide eyes, and moved just out of the way. It was starting to hurt, really, smiling this much.

“Don’t,” Billy warned, except a grin was also forming on his lips.

“I don’t think you mean that,” Steve shifted forward, careful to balance his weight on one arm, and brought himself nearly flush against Billy.

It seemed like Billy was going to lean in, but he put a hand on Steve’s chest, keeping him away.

A race of anxious thoughts filled Steve’s head, if he went too fast, if he somehow got it all wrong. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no! That’s not—” and then Billy looks, a concentrated furrow on his brow. “Did you hear that?”

Steve sat up in puzzlement, trying to wrap his head around what Billy just said, when there was a noise. A quiet thud, just loud enough to be heard but too quiet to be distinct.

“What—” Steve started, but Billy was out of the bed in an instant, reaching somewhere out of Steve’s sight. He pulled back with a rather large knife and stalked closer to the bedroom door.

Steve quickly and quietly got out of bed, wishing he could grip his own weapon. Billy outstretched his arm, keeping Steve behind him when he opened the door.

When there was no sign of danger, at least yet, Billy cautiously moved forward. Steve kept a couple paces behind him, his body tense. Together, they move towards the stairs and wait for… something.

Just when Steve thinks it won’t come, he hears a muffled noise. Billy heard it too if his whitening grip on the knife was any clue. Steve didn’t think it was the sound of a monster. Not from his own experience. He didn’t tell Billy this, so as not accidentally give away their position.

The noise continued and it was strange. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say it was like the sound of a radio underneath a heap of blankets.

It didn’t click until he heard his own name. His name with a distinct inflection he heard nearly every day at work and then some.

“Robin?” Steve asked in disbelief. He moved out of Billy’s protection, even as the other boy tried to pull him back, harshly whispering to him to stay back. But Steve, waving Billy off with assurance, made his way down the stairs.

He again heard the mumbled words, two people talking, Steve thought, becoming just a bit clearer with every downward step. Except, there was no one and nothing when he finally reached the base floor. Yet, the conversation didn’t cease.

Billy made his way down as well by then, gripping Steve’s good arm.

“What are you doing?” Billy demanded, fear tinting his voice. Steve should apologize, but—

“I think there are people here, but in Hawkins. The real Hawkins, I mean.”

“What?” Billy asked. His grip slipped from Steve’s arm.

Steve worked to try and pinpoint where the voices were in the house. It sounded as if they moved from the living room to the kitchen and back again. Was Robin looking for Steve? He usually picked her up and dropped her off at school. Steve took a moment to appreciate the fact that Robin was seemingly ditching class to look for Steve at his house.

“This hasn’t happened before,” Billy muttered, rooted in the same spot as Steve paced back and forth.

And Steve wondered why that was. Was it because Billy didn’t understand the Upside Down? Because he thought he had really been dead all this time? An unpleasant curl of nausea worked its way through Steve at the sudden vision of Billy, hopeless and alone.

He shook it off though. If they could get this right, Steve would have all the time in the world to comfort him and promise that he’ll never have to be alone like that again. Not if Steve had anything to say about it.

“We have to get their attention,” Steve instructed, hearing the shouts of his name again. He was sure it was Robin and… Dustin! Of course that kid would be here, Steve thought with a grin. “And then… I don’t know, they can open a gate on their side, maybe.”

Steve wasn’t really sure of their options. It wasn’t like they had El’s powers to open a gate on the spot anymore, Steve remembered.

“We can… there’s a way out?” Billy asked. Steve turned back to him. The look in Billy’s eyes was far away, as if the possibility presented was so far out of reality, he didn’t know how to react.

Steve cautiously walked back to Billy. Slowly, to broadcast his intentions, he brought his hand to cup the blonde’s cheek. His thumb rubbed soothingly across the dirt and sweat incrusted skin.

“Yes, Billy. We’re gonna get out.”

“With me?” Billy asked, as if there was anyway Steve was leaving without him.

“Remember? You can’t get rid of me, Billy,” Steve said, closing in on Billy’s lips. “That means the both of us are going or the both of us are staying.”

Billy smiled, his eyes crinkling. “You’re something else, Harrington.”

“Steve,” he breathed. “I like it when you say my name too.”

Their lips were just as rough as the first time, but they slotted together perfectly. Steve’s hand moved to the back of Billy’s head, but he dared not deepen the kiss before Billy. And if Steve had any reservations about Billy’s feelings before, they were wiped away with Billy’s own hands, coming to caress the sides of Steve’s face.

Steve didn’t notice his own hair standing up with static. It was when he feels the hairs on the back of Billy’s neck stand on end that he paused their kiss in confusion.

It happened all at once. The static swelled into a field of palpable charge and burst with a crack. Steve and Billy jumped at the noise, then watched as dust levitated off the floor in front of them. Neither of them spoke, they only watched, holding onto each other, as the floor split open. Wooden splinters dissolved into nothing as the hole widened and pulsated. And when it finally ceased, the two boys were left standing and staring in its wake.

The next noise Steve heard was more shouting, but it came from the pit. Taking heed, Steve inched closer to the voices he knew came from his two best friends with Billy’s hand clasped in his.

Peering into, what Steve was sure now was, the newly opened gate, he saw the notable outlines of his house’s furniture, except upside down. The next thing he saw was the distinct mess of curly hair belonging to Dustin Henderson.

“Steve!” Dustin exclaimed. Soon followed was Robin, her eyes definitely mirroring the same wide and awestruck expression Steve could feel on himself.

Without further preamble, Steve, for a lack of a better term, dipped his toes into the gate. Followed was an odd sensation of vertigo, but he made his way. Outstretching his arm that remained in his sling to the two on the other side, his good hand squeezed Billy’s, which spurred the blond into motion to follow Steve.

For all the struggle he was forced into involving the gates to the Upside Down, the journey through one was incredibly easy. Even with having to essentially crawl onto his floor from the weird angle he entered from. He was pulled by his friends to safety and he in turn pulled Billy with him.

The two boys ended up on their hands and knees by the end of it. Steve could hear Dustin and Robin yelling, panicking, wanting explanations. There was certainly a fuckton to explain, but Steve was far more concerned with his partner who had yet to let go of his hand. Not that Steve was complaining, or anything.

They did finally part as they were helped up and Steve was about to start the exposition, but the cracking of wood started once more, and all the teens hurriedly shuffled away.

As unexpectedly as it opened, the gate closed with a shudder of energy, leaving a spot of concrete floor in its place that Steve had no idea how he would go about fixing. But as far as he was concerned, it hardly mattered when his hand found Billy’s own again.

He’ll have to explain later, the events that occurred, of course leaving out some bits to everyone except maybe Robin and Dustin. He could feel their eyes on his and Billy’s display. Still, none of that mattered. Not now. Not when he felt more whole than he had in months.

Billy’s eyes were cleared of their frightful storm. Instead, they shown like the sun reflected in the ocean’s waves. Steve felt like he could get lost in them for hours. With the open and unguarded expression Billy was giving him, one Steve could only describe as hope, and the unflinching grip of their hands, Steve felt his life realign onto the path he was always meant for.