Work Text:
Long story short, Steve’s been surviving on zero sleep and five cups of coffee a day, so Billy decides to take a load off by suggesting that he can watch the kids. Steve drops them off at the pool, and Billy learns that the shit birds’ summer break has been... hazardous to say the least. He sees an opportunity to connect with them, recalling the bag of pool toys he saw in the supply room. Plus, the kids get to have some normal fun. No monsters. For Billy, too, because Neil is going to be at a meeting until 10 p.m. Knowing his old man, he’ll be back three hours later. He assures Steve they’ll come back in one piece, and Steve gives him a tired but knowing smile. “I know.”
It’s a strange feeling, to hear that someone actually trusts him. Not just anyone; Steve.
The day goes by smoothly, except for Mike refusing to put on sunscreen. Max ends up chasing him and squirting him with the stuff, which solves that problem efficiently. That’s something Billy would do. She’s got the better side of him, too. He’d forgotten there was another, sillier side to him until Steve brought it to the surface.
Dustin brought his mother’s floral shower cap instead of an actual swim cap, a misunderstanding that will live rent-free in Billy’s mind for the rest of his life. Lucas and Will were the only ones who thought to bring goggles. Max goes into the pool first, followed by the boys. To his delight, they walk, not run.
El lags behind, and he approaches her with a friendly albeit concerned smile. “What’s up, Hopper Junior?”
Staring holes into the ground, she replies quietly, “I don’t know how to swim.”
“I can teach you-”
“No! I want to join my friends. I don’t want them to see me differently.”
Billy frowns at that. “They’re your friends. They shouldn’t judge you for shi- stuff. How about floaties? They help you... well... float.”
El turns pale, and she shakes her head so hard he’s worried it’ll snap clean off her neck.
“Uh... alright... what else... Oh! You see that red and white thingy over there?” He points to the other side of the pool, and she follows his finger. “Looks a bit like a big donut?”
She nods.
“Heather! Could ya pass me that lifebuoy?”
“You know what, Billy, the day you use the magic word to ask me for a favor, is the day hell will probably freeze over,” his co-worker yells into her prized megaphone.
If she said to him the only reasons she wanted this job were for that and her “throne”, he’d believe her.
“JUST- get it. Please.”
Heather gasps dramatically, kicking her feet in the air. “Does hell feel any colder?”
“You tell me. You’re way closer,” he says, mock shuddering.
She climbs down with one hand (the other is too busy flipping him the bird). “You suck,” she informs him, tossing the "donut" in his direction.
“And you swallow.” He catches it, flashing her a triumphant grin.
“No, that’s you.”
“Billy?”
Oh fuck. The kid. “Whatever you heard, don’t tell your parents.”
“My dad curses, too.” Her little face grows oddly serious, and she adds, “I won’t tell.”
He ruffles her curls. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to use this donut.”
Turns out time does fly when you’re having fun. The kids listened to him. No one ever listens to him.
When the sun starts to set, they dry off, and Heather tells him to go ahead, she’ll close up this time.
He drops Lucas off first, then Dustin, then Mike. Nancy’s waiting for her brother when Billy pulls into the Wheelers’ new driveway. She looks happier now that Karen’s out of the picture.
“Hey, Billy. Was Michael well-behaved?”
“Mike! It’s Mike!”
Billy smirks. Since he and Nancy had started to become friends, he’d learned she could be quite mischievous. “Michael wasn’t a total demon.”
“M-I-K-E!”
“Too bad you’re not sleepy enough to shut up,” Nancy says, giggling.
“UGH!” Mike stomps into the house, dripping water all over the floor.
“I’m going to murder you, you little shit stain!”
Billy chuckles to himself as he gets back into his car, where Max is asleep on El’s shoulder, and Will is yawning.
The next stop is the Byers.
Joyce opens the door after the first knock, and the aroma of pie hits him.
Has he eaten since breakfast? Shit.
Will waves to him sleepily, and El hugs him, then whispers something to Joyce before going into the house.
“I can’t thank you enough. El says everyone had a great time. Would you like to come in? I have pie.”
Now, he doesn’t know Joyce much yet, but from what he gathers, she’s not one to take no for an answer. He’s too tired and hungry to turn her offer down, even if his suspicions are still ever-present.
He follows her inside, where she puts a blanket over his shoulders and pulls out a chair for him.
‘’Do you like apple?” Her eyes aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be.
Billy hates how that only makes him more anxious. He clears his suddenly scratchy throat. “’S fine.” His mother used to bake all the time when she was happy. During those last few months, she stopped smiling, stopped doing what she loved, and she would leave for a couple of hours. But she’d always come back, mostly in the morning. Until she didn’t. That’s just what living with Neil Hargrove did to you. Apple was her favorite. His, too.
“I’ll fix you some tea, too.”
“Mrs. Byers, you don’t have to-”
“Nonsense. I want to.” She sets a big slice in front of him, accompanied by a fork and knife. “Call me Joyce. I insist.”
“Thank you, Mrs- Joyce.”
“Dig in, it’s no good cold,” she says, smiling at him. Her eyes never travel to his chest. No, she maintains eye contact. Like she sees right through him.
He starts eating, all too happy to oblige.
“You’re really good with the kids, you know. Especially with El. You were sweet to her. She doesn’t have... great memories of the water, but you helped her make happy ones.”
Billy swallows convinced some crust is caught in his throat as his eyes begin to tingle. “I... helped?”
“I see why that Harrington boy likes you so much.”
He blushes up to the tips of his ears, stuffing more pie into his mouth.
“Nearly midnight. How about that.”
Fucking fuck. Just like that, his dream bubble deflates. His eyes sting again. I don’t wanna go back there. But worse will be waiting the longer I put it off.
“Billy? You’re welcome here anytime. I mean it. And honey?”
“Yeah?”
“Drive safe.” She sends him off with a long hug, pie, and tea for the road.
“Thank you, Joyce.”
“Good night, Billy.”
Karen had told him the same thing. Drive safe.
Joyce wasn’t Karen. Wasn’t his mother, either.
Both bring an odd comfort to him.
His stomach is full and warm, not leaving much room for doubt. He drives the speed limit this time, thinking about his day. His mother, wherever she was, did she know he was happy?
That he had fun? No tears were shed. He made people laugh.
Today was a good day.
I want more good days.