#imclassylikethat

“What the fuck is going on?” Billy shouted. His tone startled El; she jumped, and she curled against Hopper, who tugged her closer as he said, “Hey!” in a loud voice. He seemed ready to say more, ready to launch into some kind of tirade, but Joyce’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. She bunched a wad of his shirt in her fist and shook him- not hard, but enough to shut him up.

“Enough,” she said. She squeezed El with her free arm, then released them both to stand. Billy’s shoulders rose as she approached. He moved like prey; jerky, untrusting, unsure. He backed away when Joyce stepped closer and flinched when she reached to him. She saw this, and she stopped. “Hey,” she said softly. She glanced around the room, releasing Billy, for a moment, from one scrutinizing pair of eyes. She looked to Jonathan. “I think some space would be good,” she told him, and Jonathan nodded. He rose, too, and again Billy shrunk back. He was like a cornered animal, alert and defensive, but relaxed when instead of moving toward him, Jonathan directed his attention to Steve. 

“First door on the right,” he told him, pointing down the hall. Steve placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder and tried not to react when Billy nearly jumped away. Joyce stepped to the side, making a path for them out of the living room. Billy looked at everyone in turn. He wanted to fight- Steve could feel that -but he was too exhausted to argue, too exhausted to push. 

Now, he is pacing the length of Jonathan’s small bedroom over and over again. He hasn’t said a word since Steve shut the door. Steve sits on the edge of the bed, watching Billy move back and forth and back and forth. He is simmering with something like rage. Twice he stopped to looked at Steve, twice he opened his mouth to- ask a question? say anything? -, and twice he shook his head with a low huff and resumed his pacing. 

“Can you at least sit?” Steve asks. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Billy grunts; it is the clearest response Steve has gotten from him in what feels like hours but, in reality, has only been about twenty minutes. Steve can hear a low murmur of voices outside the door, muffled with distance, and he knows that Billy hears it, too.

“I know that is…” Steve stops himself, suddenly aware that he doesn’t a word. This is what? Confusing, sure. Frustrating, obviously. Scary? Terrifying, even? Something out of a Stephen King novel? He sighs. “I know this is a lot.” 

Billy pauses. He looks at Steve, and he looks angry, but the anger doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes tell a different story. They look like a child’s eyes. Steve opens his mouth to say more, but Billy turns his back again. 

“Do you want to be alone?” Steve asks him. Billy pauses again, this time with his back to Steve, and Steve prepares to be kicked out. He is halfway to his feet when Billy speaks.

“No,” he says. Steve hesitates, not quite sure he’s heard him right.

“No?” he asks. Billy turns to look at him. 

“No,” he says again, and he sits down beside Steve with a heavy sigh. He leans his elbows on his knees and rests his head in hands and, after another moment of hesitation, Steve touches a hand to Billy’s back. 

“Do you want to talk?” Steve asks.

“I want to sleep,” Billy murmurs. He sounds miserable. 

“You think you can?” Steve asks. 

“No,” Billy says.

“Because of-”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Steve rubs circles between Billy’s shoulders, but the tension there stays coiled.

“What did she mean?” Billy asks.

“El?”

“She said they’re real.”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“How does she-”

“She can see stuff,” Steve says. “Uh, she has, like…uh…superpowers, sort of.”

“But how does she know they’re real?”

“She kind of, um- opened the gate for them to get here?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Billy-”

“Don’t,” Billy says. He lifts his head to glare at Steve, but the effect is lost when Steve sees a sheen of unfallen tears. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Harrington, I swear to God.”

“I’m not,” Steve says. “I swear. I’m not even sure I know what patronize means.”

“Fuck off,” Billy huffs, though his tone his lighter. He leans against Steve and Steve slips his around around Billy’s shoulders, holding Billy against him. “I don’t know how she knows,” he admits. “We’ve fought them before. She’s fought them before. But we still don’t really know how they, like…work. This is new territory for all of us. No just you.”

“Great,” Billy says. 

“Bright side,” Steve says, “is that you’re not in it alone.”

“No one else is seeing them in their dreams?”

“Well, uh,” Steve stammers, then sighs. “No. Not that I know of.”

“So how am I not alone?” Billy asks. “I’m just supposed to let my sister’s weird friend stand guard in my fucking head?”

“El can help,” Steve says. “We all just want to help.”

Billy is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Steve says. “You should sleep.”

“If they’re real-”

“-you’ve got backup,” Steve finishes. “Seriously. Okay? You’re covered, man.”

Billy is quiet again, and leans heavier against Steve. Steve lets him. He holds Billy close, rubs Billy’s arm, tucks Billy’s head beneath his chin. They sit there together, entwined, and Steve hums something out-of-tune to drown out the sounds of talking outside. 

“What if they know?” Billy asks suddenly, almost startling Steve.

“What if who knows what?”

“Those things,” Billy says. “What if they know we’ve caught on?”

“You think they have?”

“They looked at her,” Billy says. “At…El.”

“Then we’ll send her back in,” Steve says. “She’ll kick their asses.”

“So, what? I have a fourteen year-old bodyguard?”

“Would you rather go in alone?”

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“What?” Steve asks. He pulls away, one hand holding Billy so that he can look at his face. Billy blinks at him, groggy and weary. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Okay?”

Billy looks Steve up and down. He bites his lip, looks away, looks at the floor, then back at Steve. He nods, and when Steve pulls him into an embrace, Billy lets his head fall back on Steve’s shoulder. 

“You’re really fucking out of it, Hargrove,” Steve says, “if you think I’d leave you.”

“Shut up,” Billy grumbles. 

And Steve tells him, “Go to sleep.”

An hour passes, and in it Billy does sleep. He falls asleep on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve winces as he lowers Billy onto the bed. He keeps his promise; he stays with him, keeps watch over him, until a knock at the door pulls him away. Billy grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up, and Steve gently brushes Billy’s hair from his face, his thumb lingering at Billy’s temple for a moment, before going to answer the door. 

“What’s going on?” Max asks, and Steve holds a finger to his lips to quiet her. 

“He’s sleeping,” he whispers. 

“Is he-” El starts.

“He’s been okay so far,” Steve says. He leaves the door open a crack behind him as he steps into the hall, and he looks into the dimly lit room to be sure Billy is still asleep before turning his attention to the girls. 

“He’s scared,” El says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah, he is.”

“You’re scared,” Max says, brows furrowed as she looks him up and down.

“Yeah, well, he’s scared,” Steve says by way of explanation. 

“We think El should stay with him,” Max says. “I mean, if he’s sleeping, they can come back, right? She should be there if they do.” Steve looks to El, who nods. 

“I promised I wouldn’t leave him,” Steve says.

“You don’t have to,” Max says. “Just…let us stay, too. To protect him.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, okay. Yeah.”

He leans against the door so that it opens, and he tries to slow it down so that the hinges don’t squeak too much. Every little noise makes him nervous. He doesn’t want to wake Billy- not after everything, not when he’s so desperately exhausted. Max steps inside, and she makes her way to her brother’s side, careful as she lowers herself beside him on the bed. Before El follows her, she takes Steve’s hand.

“He will be okay,” she says, and she squeezes his hand and offers the smallest of smiles.