Billy had presented as an omega at 11-years-old and immediately his father had made it clear that that was something to be ashamed of. His mother had assured him privately that it wasn't but then she'd left and he'd been left behind. The suppressants had basically been forced on him and he'd never bothered to fight it. Instead, he'd done his best to act like the alpha son his dad wanted and he hadn't had a heat since.
Until last week.
After the events at the Byers house, Billy had made it a habit avoid Steve and the kids, even going so far as to avoid Max as much as possible. Up until he hadn't anymore.
He'd started with an apology to Steve and followed it with one for Lucas. Somehow, he and Steve had become friends and even the dinguses had started tolerating his presence.
Billy hadn't planned to crash at Steve's so he hadn't brought his suppressants with him, a thing he hadn't thought about until he woke in the middle of the night burning up and desperate for a breeding.
Steve, ever the gentleman, had left him alone with an incredibly good quality knotting dildo and plenty of food and water, no matter how much he'd begged and cursed.
He'll blame the hormones and exhaustion for the way he curls up on the couch with his face pressed into Steve's stomach once his heat has ended and he's cleaned up the alpha's sheets and himself.
It had been a long week, but thankfully Steve's parents had been out of town through it all. Not that he hadn't called his mom for advice. And Joyce. Mrs. Byers had been sort of a lifesaver in bringing him more food and water in the middle of the week since he'd refused to leave the house with Billy suffering so. And god had it been a bad one, really.
Now though? He felt better. He'd opened up windows throughout the house to air it all out before anyone could come over and figure out what had happened. He preferred it that way, especially since he knew there would be questions about Billy. So there they sat, his fingers slowly stroking through Billy's hair as he stared at the TV, though he wasn't watching what was actually on. They were just using it for background noise at the moment.
"Billy?" He asked quietly, looking down at the omega. He doubted Billy would want to be treated any differently than he had so many times before, but Steve honestly wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back. He would try though. To respect Billy. "How are you feeling?" He pushed his hair back, carefully tilting the younger teen's head so he could look at him. "You're still just a little warm. Will be for another couple of hours. You should probably take a shower..." He licked his lips, smiling softly.
"And you'll be hungry. Hungrier than normal. We should probably get you some food. I could make something since Mrs. Byers helped me restock the kitchen. Would that be okay?"
Billy was fall into the fire, off his ass, going to be wishing for death tomorrow drunk.
And King Steve? Wasn't paying attention to him the way he wanted him to. The more he was ignored, the more he tried to get his attention. But instead, all he got was the attention of the girls from their classes and it wasn't what he wanted. They were falling over themselves to get his attention and he just. Wasn't. Interested.
He was trying to get Harrington's attention but as he stumbled over what he was trying to say, the other teen walked away. Frustrated, he followed with a grumble, trying to finish off his drink in the process.
"Harrington! Hey, Harrington! I'm talkin' to you!"
Steve made a sound, growling before scrubbing a hand over his face. He'd walked away from the bonfire, heading out into the woods in the direction of where everyone had parked their cars. He finally turned once he couldn't really hear much coming from the party itself. "What the hell do you want, Hargrove? You've been messing with me all night! You want to kick my ass again? Come on! Just do it and get it over with!"
He snapped the words, standing and straightening, ready to at least try and fight back. His jaw was tight, arms crossing over his chest for a momebt before dropping to his side in a huff. He was tired of the other constantly messing with him.
It had finally happened. Billy had been trying to get Steve to clue in since he'd shown up at the other boy's doorstep and, shocking no one, Steve had been absolutely oblivious.
At least, until the vampire had stepped into the shower behind him, dropped to his knees and taken Steve into his throat.
Now, he's sitting in a pair of too-tight jeans, sprawled across Steve's couch and watching as the other boy paces back and forth across the living room floor, wet hair mussed from the continuous running of his hands through it.
Steve did stop, holding up a finger and giving Billy a look. "Uh uh, you...just...no." He shook his head, huffing out a breath. "You...I just...what was that!?" He exclaimed, motioning towards the stairs. "Why did you...blow me?" He crossed his arms over his chest, genuinely seeming confused.
"You didn't like me. And I mean...so we were getting along and everything. But I really thought it was just because...well I'm basically your walking happy meal." He pointed out before sighing and sitting down. "Is this because you're just horny and needed to get some action or something?"
Or at least, he thought he had. He'd been staring down the Mind Flayer and when he'd woken up the world had been dark and cold and he'd been afraid. So afraid. And the distant screeching and growling had assured him he wasn't alone.
He had no idea how long he'd been there when he was finally spat back out. He'd woken in the same black blood stained shirt he'd faced down the Flayer with, jeans grimy and disgusting and barefooted.
He knew this place. This was the old steel mill, the place where he'd caused so many people hurt and suffering. Where he'd taken them to their deaths. The shudder that wracks down his spine hurts.
Billy thinks about going home but he doesn't want to see Neil, no matter how much he wants to see Max. It's only when he goes to stand that he realises how tired he is, how much he hurts and how loud everything is despite it being the middle of the night and he's in the middle of nowhere.
There's a phone booth not too far away, he remembers. He just has to get there. Somehow.
He gets to the top of the stairs before he has to stop to rest. Just a few minutes.
That's the last thought he has before he gives into the pull of exhaustion and falls into a restless sleep.
The first thought he'd had when he answered the phone was how he was thankful his parents weren't home. His second thought was to remember that they never were.
He sighed as he pulled the phone to his ear. "You realize its 2 in the..." He trailed off as the two on the other end started shouting and talking at once. "WHOA hey! HEY SHUT UP!" He snapped, causing both of them to go silent in shock.
"Alright now. One at a time. I mean it." That was when they calmed down and started explaining. Both of them waking up at the same time. Feeling the same feeling. Something was happening with the Upside Down, out at the steel mill where everything had very first started. They were begging him to investigate. It had been 3 months. Three months since they faced down the Mind Flayer and won. Three months since he'd had to pull Max away from Billy's body which had then gone missing.
They'd all dealt with so much.
Still, he hung up with them and drove out. He parked outside, grabbing his nail bat and slowly getting out. He walked to the entrance leaning in and shining a flash light around. "H-hello?" He called out carefully.
After everything that had happened with the Mind Flayer and at Starcourt, when Billy had finally woken up, alone, in a lab that looked like it was highly unsanitary, he hadn't been able to face going home again.
Hopper's cabin had been abandoned and it had been a suitable hide out, even with the gaping holes and Billy had holed up there while he healed. The lounge was a mess but the bedroom was in good enough repair that he could survive while the weather was warm enough. There was also thankfully enough food and the water still worked and so Billy could get by until he was stable enough to get out of Hawkins.
It was late and Billy was sprawled out across the half ruined couch when he heard it.
Just outside was a soft growl and he knew it wasn't the Mind Flayer -he'd know- which meant there was something else.
The terror gripped him tight and he felt is chest constrict.
Ivar was old now. Not physically, of course. He hadn't aged a day past nineteen since 819. But mentally, yes, he was ancient. When had that happened? He wasn't sure. Somewhere between trying to conquer and kill everyone in the whole world and then just trying to be left alone by it, he supposed.
But above all, Ivar continued to survive. Despite all the hunters, still being a cripple (the one thing his healing factor couldn't heal), and numerous enemies that persisted to this day, Ivar was above all a survivor. This was one of those decades where he'd disengaged from humanity, going off to hide in the woods and go half-feral until something drew him back. He was passing by some ramshackle place when he smelled someone. Old blood, aftershave, and something....something else. Something that Ivar hadn't smelled in years, something monstrous. It intrigued the wolf. So he stopped, a soft growl rumbling out of his throat.
He was a dark wolf, black with brown undertones, though his eyes always remained the piercing ice blue shade no matter which form he was in. He licked his chops and his nose continued to quiver as he listened to the man within the cabin. Humans always feared what lay in the darkness, whether that was outside their door, cave, or campfire. It was a primitive instinct and one that had allowed them to survive this long. He was still hoping it would be overridden.
He growled again softly. Come out, come out, wherever you are.
It had been weeks after the explosion, after the battle at Star Court Mall. His body had been found by the Military, having been burned and irradiated from the blast. Broken from the fall. Russians had almost dragged him away, but the US Military had stopped it and saved him.
Save someone else as well. Though it appeared that Billy died there in the mall, they were able to get him to medical. Hopper was told it was touch and go for a while, for both of them, really.
Hopper lay in his bed for the 3rd week, restless, aching. The burns weren't so bad now and he could get up to pee, so that was a plus. El had been there off and on for weeks. She explained everything to him that Joyce couldn't. Between the two he got the whole story.
Walking to the other room where the boy was held up he had been taking a seat in there, when Max wasn't curled up in the chair. He'd talked to the girl for a bit before. Their Father wouldn't come but Max came as often as she could.
Today it seemed she had just shuffled out to go home, the nurse ushering her out to get some rest. Hopper took her place at the side of the bed, in the chair. He grunted as he settled in, his IV pole resting near by. He wanted a smoke, so bad.
Watching the young man in the bed, he felt bad for him and the girl. What parent doesn't come to their child's side when it was as bad as this? He's herd enough about Billy to know he's a terror, but there's obviously a story behind all that.
Between Hopper and Max, they would make sure if he woke up, he wouldn't wake up alone.
When Billy wakes up, it starts slowly and then panic runs through him like an icy shard and he sits up, feels the pain it causes and drops back with a cry. Every part of him hurts and the tears come to his eyes quickly, rolling down his cheeks while he tries to catch his breath.
His whole body feels like it's on fire and Billy feels the sob pull it's way out of his throat.
"Max. Max..." His throat is dry and he coughs, wincing. "Help. Please..."
Eleven had brought it up and the whole table had gone silent in the face of it. Jim had dropped his fork and everyone else at the table stared between the two of them right up until the older man stood suddenly and headed into the kitchen to get a drink.
It was an easy move to follow him and Billy stands awkwardly in the Harrington's kitchen, hands shoved into his pockets.
"Jim... It's okay. If you don't... you know. Want me the same way." It almost killed him to say it, but it needed to be said, for the sake of the relationship they'd had before his heat.
He just needed a drink. Was he that transparent? Did he give off that much of a show that everyone knew he wanted Billy? Even El and Max knew? Joyce had smacked him upside the head once before, telling him to get it together. He thought he had. He'd helped the young man out in his time of need. He would help him again if asked.
So what's the problem, Jim Hopper?
When Billy came up behind him he had just finished pouring a drink. He paused there to hold it, shaking his head a moment. "That's not it."
As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd been taken from his home and everyone he knew and shipped across the ocean, he'd been sold off as a slave to none other than his soul mate. He'd assumed the King of Kattegat would set him free, but instead, he'd kept him enslaved.
If Ivar, The Boneless wanted to play it that way, Billy could play difficult too. He never did anything too damaging, never enough to get him punished or to deem him a bad slave but enough that it would annoy the King. Small things like placing green wood on the fire. And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't deliberately spilled Ivar's drinks every now and again.
His brother, Hvitserk, had tried to talk to him about it on more than one occasion but Billy brushed him off every time with the simple statement that he couldn't be both Ivar's soul mate and his slave and if the king wanted the former, he'd have to free him from the latter.
Really, it served as no surprise that he'd been summoned that evening after yet another small, spiteful "accident" and he stares at Ivar from the doorway.
Ivar had always known he'd find his soulmate someday. His mother had always assured him of that, and with her second sight, he knew she'd be proven right one day. He just never expected to find them among them among the slave population of Kattegat. But that's how it had gone.
One day he'd been seeing in black-and-white as always, and the next, when he met the eyes of one of the new slaves, Bam! Color. He'd been tempted, so very tempted, to free Billy right then and there. But he was also afraid. From what he could see, Billy didn't love him. Heck, he didn't even seem to like him very much. So if he took the chance and freed him, there would be every possibility that he'd be gone within the hour, going as far from Kattegat as he could get.
No, it was better to keep him close by his side, even if that was killing him day after day. Still, if Billy wanted to be with him, he had yet to show it. It had been weeks now and all Ivar could see was someone who was just a sullen slave. He summoned him after the latest insubordination, a incident where he'd wasted the precious commodity of salt by using it to over-season the stew being served that night.
Ivar sat there in his personal chambers, looking less then pleased. "Tell me, are you doing your best to vex me day by day?"
It wasn't that Billy didn't like the werepanther, it was simply that the Witcher was standoffish and he was so stereotypically alpha that Billy was sure he was about to get lumped with a grumpy old brute that expected him to bow to every whim and do as he was told and that was something that was not going to fly.
Joyce tried to reassure him that it would be a good match and beneficial for the pack and Max -his stupid, horny, alpha sister- kept trying to tell him how damn lucky he was. Billy just rolled his eyes and threw a piece of toast at her head.
There were formalities they'd have to go through, of course, but they weren't for a few weeks yet and that meant that Billy was being pushed to get to know the alpha beforehand. And, yeah, alright. The guy was hot with his stupid gold eyes and those ridiculous thighs that he wouldn't mind sitting on and those stupid arms that could shove him into a wall or mattress and keep him there and his omega fucking whined at the idea of that man fucking him senseless but good sex wasn't enough to make a relationship, wasn't enough for a bond that didn't leave him fucking miserable for the rest of his life.
Joyce had organised everything for him, brought all the food over to his place and had given him the instructions on when to put things in the oven before pressing a kiss to his head and telling him to "play nice" before leaving again to take Will over to Wheeler's place.
Geralt would be here soon and food was almost ready and Billy?
Well, Billy looked fine as hell, if he said so himself, in a pair of tight, blue jeans and his boots, a black shirt that was only half buttoned and his scars on full display.
Sleeping for a whole century...might not have been the best idea but having watched the world continue to pass him and see more and more of his pack die off? Well, it had worn him down to the point where he just wanted a reprieve.
And really, he had planned to sleep a whole lot longer until someone came crashing into the underground cave he'd discovered. It had enough offshoots that one thankfully led to the open air and gave him plenty of oxygen. Besides that, he'd been able to slow down everything else so that he didn't need anything.
He was lucky had hadn't attacked Billy when he first awoke, having been totally unsure about what was going on. Strange to find some new creature chasing the omega and apparently a group of his friends? Later discovered to be part of his pack.
He could still remember the look on their faces when he'd pulled his silver sword and struck each of them down like it was nothing. The smallest of the group, Will, had been the one to break the silence of the whole group to excitedly exclaim that somehow they'd found a real living Witcher.
Regardless, he'd let them lead him back to their pack. Let them catch him up to speed about the world, about his pack that were now completely gone. The ways of creating the Witchers long since forgotten by everyone except Geralt himself. The pack had been kind and in the end had convinced him to take Billy as a mate, to bring Geralt into the pack himself.
He was apprehensive, but agreed as he approached the door. He knocked, sighing to himself and looking around. He had a small bouquet of flowers that he had picked himself and he actually hoped the omega liked them.
Steve has spent a long time staring at Billy Hargrove.
Listen, it sounds bad. He's aware. But considering that they'd both been in the hospital wing at the lab at the time ("you're lucky, kiddo, you'll get way better food here than at Hawkins Memorial!") and Hargrove had been, well, unconscious, he figured that it was fine. Plus he's got a built-in freakin' excuse now, right? Good ol' left ear's insides are mush and Steve isn't sure how smart these doctors here are because they put Hargrove on his goddamned left side-- so Steve kinda feels justified in keeping his head turned in that direction just in case the other guy wakes up and needs something.
Or you know, turns into a slime creature that wants to eat everyone.
Steve's eye is mostly healed. His ribs are mostly healed, and the small puncture in his right lung. But he's been told the hearing isn't going to come back and part of that, he can't help but think, is because of the shithead in the bed next to him and a generous application of ceramics and fists from the year before. Yeah-- it's a shitty attitude considering that Hargrove was possessed and drinking bleach or whatever but fuck. Sometimes the migraines come on so fast and hard that Steve has fever-dreamed of crawling over to the asshole and just pulling some plugs when he's in one of his less-lucid moments. Or just barfing all over him. He'd deserve either.
And then sometimes when Steve is sitting up talking to Robin and watching Max hover over Hargrove's bed... then he feels bad. Because Billy hasn't said a word since waking up and if Steve's nightmare's are bad he can't even imagine how the other guy gets to sleep without the help of drugs to force the issue.
Visitors are allowed in-- those who have signed the NDAs-- and there's the doctors but, for the most part, the days are long and, for Steve, either pretty silent or filled with the high whine of the rest of the hearing in his left ear slowly dying. He wishes he could smoke. Or drink. Sleeping has gotten boring. TV has pretty much been ruined. There's a stack of "required reading" on his bedside table that he refuses to touch because he knows there's no sex or humor in it, just nerd stuff. So Steve chews on the eraser of a pencil as he looks at a word search in his lap; he's cross-legged in his bed.
Lot of fun times around the hospital these days. Word searches and ex-flayed assholes one bed over. Just awesome.
Billy hasn't said a word since he woke up. Sure, he'd tried. Tried telling the doctors how much he fucking hurt and that they should let him die or give him more drugs or something, anything to make the pain stop. But even when they pump him full of morphine and fuck knows what else, the pain never truly goes away. Of course, the agony in his torso eases up enough that he can breathe without wanting to scream or cry or vomit or all of the above but the pain of knowing Heather and her parents and all those others are dead because of how fucking weak he is...
That pain, he doesn't think will ever go away. He sees their faces when he's asleep; sees the terror and hears their screams as they beg him to let them go before that thing takes a hold of them and the fear is replaced by cold indifference, cogs in a machine, lambs for sacrifice.
Harrington doesn't say much to him. Doesn't say anything to him and that's okay because it means he doesn't realise that every time Billy tries to form a word, acidic bile rises in his throat and threatens to choke him the same way he'd choked on thick, black blood when he was dying. He knows the guy watches him though, can feel those eyes boring into his skull and sometimes he's not sure if Harrington wants to kill him or talk to him.
Billy wakes slowly the same way he always does, eyes still heavy with meds and he rolls his head to look over at Harrington, sitting up like it's easy and staring at a... crossword? Fucking nerd. Billy wishes he had something to throw at him to get his attention.
He wishes he had the arm strength to throw something at him.
It's been three weeks since their final fight with Vecna and Billy has spent those three weeks bored out of his fucking mind in hospital with two broken legs, a fucked arm and eyes so swollen that his vision has only just started to clear up.
And his main form of company has been Eddie Munson, sitting in the bed next to him recovering from his own wounds. Of course, Gareth came by to keep them both company and all the brat have been around at every chance they could, especially Max and Dustin.
They'd even played D&D over Eddie's bed when the DM was finally feeling well enough to sit up and lead a campaign. That had been an interesting evening.
They had both finally been discharged that morning and, due to the lack of wheelchair access at his place and the Munson trailer being well and truly fucked, they'd been released to Steve's place. The Harrington's had a downstairs bedroom and a big enough bathroom that Billy would be able to manoeuvre his way around it without too much help needed.
For now, Billy's settled on the couch in the Harrington's den, some stupid sitcom playing silently on the TV. Steve's in the kitchen with Robin and Eddie and he's pretty sure they're arguing over what to order for dinner.
The whole ordeal had been stupidly stressful for Gareth, the stress forcing his own full presentation which meant he was way more aggressive with the hospital staff when they refused to let him see Billy than he really had any right to be. Still, he couldn't help it. He felt like he had almost lost the blonde and it scared him. Add to that the fact that Eddie was in the same boat? Yeah, he was fucking scared. After hearing about it all he figured he had a right to be. However, over the weeks seeing Billy and Eddie both progressively get better he managed to calm down.
After standing and listening to the three argue over what to order for about ten minutes Gareth got tired of it and made his way back to the den, sighing dramatically as he plopped down on the couch beside Billy and nuzzled his face into his boyfriends neck.
"Apparently they are stuck on if to order Chinese, pizza, or have Steve run to that Korean diner in town." He sighed, breathing in Billy's scent and relaxing more and more as he sat like that. It was weird, this new presentation that made everything more. He became more sensitive to others scents, especially depending on their mood, he could practically smell the last bits of the hospitals sanitary scent still clinging on Billy but it helped him relax knowing that it was going away. Billy was cleared to go home and even if he was still in recovery, he was safe.
It's been two weeks since their final fight with Vecna and Billy has spent those two weeks bored out of his fucking mind in hospital with two broken legs, a fucked arm and eyes so swollen that his vision has only just started to clear up.
Max had kept him company whenever she could but Steve could only bring her up so many days a week and with Neil gone and Susan 'working' all the time, there were only so many hours she could spend here, so he spent a lot of time sitting alone. It wasn't even like he was able to read to keep his mind occupied. Fucking Vecna, honestly.
It's one such day, where Billy is considering a nap just to kill time, when he sees too figures standing in the door way. They're still slightly fuzzy but he knows Max when he sees her.
Before he even gets a word out, Max has ducked into the room, dropped something at his bedside table -burgers, by the smell of it- and adds a quick "This is Jonathan's friend, he's gonna hang out here while we play D&D with Eddie next door." And she's gone again.
"Right. Okay. Hi Jonathan's friend." He looks... vaguely familiar with Billy's fucked up vision.
Well, sheeet. He looked worse for wear and pretty banged up, but Argyle still recognized that hair, those blue eyes, that face. Trippy, that he should come all the way out here and see some that was firmly planted in the sea and surf in his mind.
"Oh man, my feelings will be all hurt if you don't remember my name, my dude," Argyle rumbled with his usual jovial good nature, as he pulled up a chair closer to the bed, turning it back to front to straddle over and fold his arms on the chair back in front of him. "Never knew you had a sister. She's a feisty one!"
Even the most loser of omegas had someone sniffing after them. Everyone knew it, and a lot of people made a big deal out of it. After all, it meant they were wanted, desired, able to expand their social circle to include their partners. Betas, meanwhile, had their own little circles, or tended to be alone. If they were with anyone else, it tended to be because they'd known the other party all their lives and wanted to be with them, even if it meant making them mild social pariahs.
And then there was the Byers. Nobody could bring themselves to even consider what the boys might be, because one meant that they would be getting sought out when the hormones hit, or else they would start getting squirmy and desperate. At least, that was the general consensus. The only thing that made sense and comforted those outside of the Party was the idea that they just weren't part of that dichotomy.
Which meant that Jonathan, chronically alone, wasn't on anyone's radar. And that was how he liked it. It all felt like a damned farce to him anyway, and to make sure that he was left alone in it, he had taken steps. Perhaps not particularly legal steps, but it was the better option by his reckoning.
It also meant that he was considered safe by one of the only friends that he'd managed to make since starting high school. He was the nice, quiet boy, trustworthy, unlikely to look at good girl honor student Nancy Wheeler for anything more than support in the horrific events following the disappearance, then equally baffling reappearance of his younger brother. It meant that even though he didn't want to be in the middle of a crowd of his drunken, rowdy peers, here he was, invited by the one friend he's got at Hawkins High.
"What are you supposed to be?"
"A guy who hates parties."
The joke precedes him back out of the front door to the lawn where the keg, and the gaggle of jocks swarming around it, were situated. He feels better out here in the fresh air, even as someone marches by looking for a bush to lose his supper into. He watches the crowd, and wishes he had his camera just to be able to document the ridiculous debauchery. Framed correctly, he could even put it into the school paper. A costume party for all comers regardless of social circle. The faculty would like that. It would make them all seem far more wholesome than they actually were.
Seated by the fire pit out in the yard, Jonathan let his eyes wander. He never settled on any one thing for long, and yet time and again, he returned to one thing: the new guy, moved out here from California. The one the girls ogled openly, and who pushed around anyone he decided deserved it. Jonathan already knows that Billy Hargrove preemptively hates him. Approaching him is out of the question, even though something in his gut tells him that this guy, this Billy Idol lookalike, is going to be important.
For now though, he's just a photogenic asshole in the middle of a ring of guys just like him.
Moving to this shit-tastic town had been bad enough. It smelled like literal cow shit, the nearest beach was over three and a half hours away and the only decently attractive alpha in the area was so fucking straight it hurt. It was obvious from the moment he’d stepped into the high school that people weren’t used to male omegas, let alone mouthy, attitude fulled, asshole-ish omegas like Billy. He knew he didn’t fit the mold of what an omega should be and it ruffled a lot of feathers.
Didn’t stop the girls and some of the dudes from swooning over him. Tommy H had been up his ass from the moment he stepped foot over the threshold and Carol just seemed to humour her mate and while he didn’t really need a sycophant, it could have been a lot worse.
At least the parties were still pretty fucking good. Nothing beat a rager at the beach, skinny dipping and a bonfire, but this Halloween party being thrown at some random person’s house was definitely not the worst party he’d been to. And the booze was free-flowing.
He’s just stepping down from a keg stand, telling the teens of Hawkins High how it’s done when he catches a whiff of something. There’s something off about it and it makes him sneeze and it’s gone before he can figure out where it’s coming from, Tommy H herding him towards Harrington so he can get up in the guy’s face.
He doesn’t smell it again until after the Wheeler bitch has a tantrum and she and Harrington stomp off upstairs. He sneezes again.
It’s the last time he smells it for the night but there’s something about it that settles heavy in the back of his mind, like it’s something important and he needs to remember it.
And then he’s too fucking drunk to think of much and it doesn’t occur to him until late the next day that there was something important he needed to remember.
Billy had no idea how long he'd been there. There was no way to track how much time had passed. It was almost as if time didn't exist here. There were no days and nights. Just eternal night and a constant storm. And cold. It was always cold.
The creatures had been a constant. It was hard to tell which were the worst. Maybe the bats. They were harder to detect. He'd gotten good at killing them. But mostly he'd hidden. The smaller ones he could fight off but the big ones? He'd never stand a chance. So he hid. Moving through the various houses that made up the twisted, dark, frozen version of Hawkins, Indiana, doing whatever he could to survive.
And then one day the world had trembled and things had been different from then on. He'd seen the soldiers once, from where he was hidden just out of sight of the new facility that had popped up almost overnight. He'd seen the way they killed everything they saw.
He'd hidden from them too.
But things had continued to change after that. The soldiers ventured further out, always armed, always ready for an attack. He'd seen them collect up the smaller ones. Even some of the bats. Vines and other various things that made up this warped placed. Nothing that went into the facility came out and he could imagine what was happening in there. There were scientists too. They never left the gates of the facility. Rarely even came outside. But he knew they were there.
He knew what they'd do if they found him.
He's been in this house for a little while, the soldiers don't come around here much anymore so it's the safest option and there's still food here. Billy's watching out a window, always vigilante, when he sees them.
Four people. Not soldiers. No weapons. No vehicle.
It's different.
He's never seen this before.
He makes a decision.
Slowly, almost timid, Billy heads outside.
Once he's closer, he realises he recognises them. The names don't come. He doesn't remember them. But he knows those faces. Knows those people.
Something in him recognises them as people who can help.
He doesn't remember the last time he spoke but it's evident that it's been a while when he tries now.
The word is barely more than a whisper, voice raspy with disuse, but he manages one syllable.
Clues were all they needed to point them in the right direction to strike at the heart of Vecna, save Holly, end the Mind Flayer's machinations whatever they might be. They'd taken a risk and chased down a demogorgon back into the Upside Down, they'd set back out into the frigid dark with their flashlights trained on the ground, and Nancy's gun pointed out into the shadows.
The alien sounds never really seemed to cease here, slithering, twitching, crackling, writhing noises surrounding them at such a low volume that it all blended together into an unsettling susurrus. The sound of footsteps approaching prompts them all to whip around on the spot to see the battered, emaciated figure approaching them.
Help.
Jonathan's arms spread to immediately tuck the others behind him even while flashlights and gun barrels point over his shoulders. "Hold on, stop," he snaps, glancing behind him to see the exasperation on Nancy's face, the confusion on Dustin's. He doesn't want to see the chagrin that Steve points toward him as he takes the lead in approaching someone that he doesn't recognize immediately.
He steps forward, flashlight pointed more toward Billy's body than his face to keep from blinding him. "You need help?" he asks quietly, keeping a sharp eye on Billy in case he decides to attack.
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for steve - [babysitterwithabat]
Until last week.
After the events at the Byers house, Billy had made it a habit avoid Steve and the kids, even going so far as to avoid Max as much as possible. Up until he hadn't anymore.
He'd started with an apology to Steve and followed it with one for Lucas. Somehow, he and Steve had become friends and even the dinguses had started tolerating his presence.
Billy hadn't planned to crash at Steve's so he hadn't brought his suppressants with him, a thing he hadn't thought about until he woke in the middle of the night burning up and desperate for a breeding.
Steve, ever the gentleman, had left him alone with an incredibly good quality knotting dildo and plenty of food and water, no matter how much he'd begged and cursed.
He'll blame the hormones and exhaustion for the way he curls up on the couch with his face pressed into Steve's stomach once his heat has ended and he's cleaned up the alpha's sheets and himself.
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Now though? He felt better. He'd opened up windows throughout the house to air it all out before anyone could come over and figure out what had happened. He preferred it that way, especially since he knew there would be questions about Billy. So there they sat, his fingers slowly stroking through Billy's hair as he stared at the TV, though he wasn't watching what was actually on. They were just using it for background noise at the moment.
"Billy?" He asked quietly, looking down at the omega. He doubted Billy would want to be treated any differently than he had so many times before, but Steve honestly wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back. He would try though. To respect Billy. "How are you feeling?" He pushed his hair back, carefully tilting the younger teen's head so he could look at him. "You're still just a little warm. Will be for another couple of hours. You should probably take a shower..." He licked his lips, smiling softly.
"And you'll be hungry. Hungrier than normal. We should probably get you some food. I could make something since Mrs. Byers helped me restock the kitchen. Would that be okay?"
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for steve - [babysitterwithabat]
Billy was fall into the fire, off his ass, going to be wishing for death tomorrow drunk.
And King Steve? Wasn't paying attention to him the way he wanted him to. The more he was ignored, the more he tried to get his attention. But instead, all he got was the attention of the girls from their classes and it wasn't what he wanted. They were falling over themselves to get his attention and he just. Wasn't. Interested.
He was trying to get Harrington's attention but as he stumbled over what he was trying to say, the other teen walked away. Frustrated, he followed with a grumble, trying to finish off his drink in the process.
"Harrington! Hey, Harrington! I'm talkin' to you!"
Re: for steve - [babysitterwithabat]
He snapped the words, standing and straightening, ready to at least try and fight back. His jaw was tight, arms crossing over his chest for a momebt before dropping to his side in a huff. He was tired of the other constantly messing with him.
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Vampire AU - for [babysitterwithabat]
At least, until the vampire had stepped into the shower behind him, dropped to his knees and taken Steve into his throat.
Now, he's sitting in a pair of too-tight jeans, sprawled across Steve's couch and watching as the other boy paces back and forth across the living room floor, wet hair mussed from the continuous running of his hands through it.
"Steve, stop. You're making me dizzy."
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"You didn't like me. And I mean...so we were getting along and everything. But I really thought it was just because...well I'm basically your walking happy meal." He pointed out before sighing and sitting down. "Is this because you're just horny and needed to get some action or something?"
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Spat Outta Hell - for steve - [babysitterwithabat]
Or at least, he thought he had. He'd been staring down the Mind Flayer and when he'd woken up the world had been dark and cold and he'd been afraid. So afraid. And the distant screeching and growling had assured him he wasn't alone.
He had no idea how long he'd been there when he was finally spat back out. He'd woken in the same black blood stained shirt he'd faced down the Flayer with, jeans grimy and disgusting and barefooted.
He knew this place. This was the old steel mill, the place where he'd caused so many people hurt and suffering. Where he'd taken them to their deaths. The shudder that wracks down his spine hurts.
Billy thinks about going home but he doesn't want to see Neil, no matter how much he wants to see Max. It's only when he goes to stand that he realises how tired he is, how much he hurts and how loud everything is despite it being the middle of the night and he's in the middle of nowhere.
There's a phone booth not too far away, he remembers. He just has to get there. Somehow.
He gets to the top of the stairs before he has to stop to rest. Just a few minutes.
That's the last thought he has before he gives into the pull of exhaustion and falls into a restless sleep.
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He sighed as he pulled the phone to his ear. "You realize its 2 in the..." He trailed off as the two on the other end started shouting and talking at once. "WHOA hey! HEY SHUT UP!" He snapped, causing both of them to go silent in shock.
"Alright now. One at a time. I mean it." That was when they calmed down and started explaining. Both of them waking up at the same time. Feeling the same feeling. Something was happening with the Upside Down, out at the steel mill where everything had very first started. They were begging him to investigate. It had been 3 months. Three months since they faced down the Mind Flayer and won. Three months since he'd had to pull Max away from Billy's body which had then gone missing.
They'd all dealt with so much.
Still, he hung up with them and drove out. He parked outside, grabbing his nail bat and slowly getting out. He walked to the entrance leaning in and shining a flash light around. "H-hello?" He called out carefully.
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for ivar - [ragnarsson]
Hopper's cabin had been abandoned and it had been a suitable hide out, even with the gaping holes and Billy had holed up there while he healed. The lounge was a mess but the bedroom was in good enough repair that he could survive while the weather was warm enough. There was also thankfully enough food and the water still worked and so Billy could get by until he was stable enough to get out of Hawkins.
It was late and Billy was sprawled out across the half ruined couch when he heard it.
Just outside was a soft growl and he knew it wasn't the Mind Flayer -he'd know- which meant there was something else.
The terror gripped him tight and he felt is chest constrict.
"Hello?"
Re: for ivar - [ragnarsson]
But above all, Ivar continued to survive. Despite all the hunters, still being a cripple (the one thing his healing factor couldn't heal), and numerous enemies that persisted to this day, Ivar was above all a survivor. This was one of those decades where he'd disengaged from humanity, going off to hide in the woods and go half-feral until something drew him back. He was passing by some ramshackle place when he smelled someone. Old blood, aftershave, and something....something else. Something that Ivar hadn't smelled in years, something monstrous. It intrigued the wolf. So he stopped, a soft growl rumbling out of his throat.
He was a dark wolf, black with brown undertones, though his eyes always remained the piercing ice blue shade no matter which form he was in. He licked his chops and his nose continued to quiver as he listened to the man within the cabin. Humans always feared what lay in the darkness, whether that was outside their door, cave, or campfire. It was a primitive instinct and one that had allowed them to survive this long. He was still hoping it would be overridden.
He growled again softly. Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Re: for ivar - [ragnarsson]
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from hopper [fat_rambo]
Save someone else as well. Though it appeared that Billy died there in the mall, they were able to get him to medical. Hopper was told it was touch and go for a while, for both of them, really.
Hopper lay in his bed for the 3rd week, restless, aching. The burns weren't so bad now and he could get up to pee, so that was a plus. El had been there off and on for weeks. She explained everything to him that Joyce couldn't. Between the two he got the whole story.
Walking to the other room where the boy was held up he had been taking a seat in there, when Max wasn't curled up in the chair. He'd talked to the girl for a bit before. Their Father wouldn't come but Max came as often as she could.
Today it seemed she had just shuffled out to go home, the nurse ushering her out to get some rest. Hopper took her place at the side of the bed, in the chair. He grunted as he settled in, his IV pole resting near by. He wanted a smoke, so bad.
Watching the young man in the bed, he felt bad for him and the girl. What parent doesn't come to their child's side when it was as bad as this? He's herd enough about Billy to know he's a terror, but there's obviously a story behind all that.
Between Hopper and Max, they would make sure if he woke up, he wouldn't wake up alone.
Re: from hopper [fat_rambo]
His whole body feels like it's on fire and Billy feels the sob pull it's way out of his throat.
"Max. Max..." His throat is dry and he coughs, wincing. "Help. Please..."
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It was an easy move to follow him and Billy stands awkwardly in the Harrington's kitchen, hands shoved into his pockets.
"Jim... It's okay. If you don't... you know. Want me the same way." It almost killed him to say it, but it needed to be said, for the sake of the relationship they'd had before his heat.
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So what's the problem, Jim Hopper?
When Billy came up behind him he had just finished pouring a drink. He paused there to hold it, shaking his head a moment. "That's not it."
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for ivar - [ragnarsson]
As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd been taken from his home and everyone he knew and shipped across the ocean, he'd been sold off as a slave to none other than his soul mate. He'd assumed the King of Kattegat would set him free, but instead, he'd kept him enslaved.
If Ivar, The Boneless wanted to play it that way, Billy could play difficult too. He never did anything too damaging, never enough to get him punished or to deem him a bad slave but enough that it would annoy the King. Small things like placing green wood on the fire. And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't deliberately spilled Ivar's drinks every now and again.
His brother, Hvitserk, had tried to talk to him about it on more than one occasion but Billy brushed him off every time with the simple statement that he couldn't be both Ivar's soul mate and his slave and if the king wanted the former, he'd have to free him from the latter.
Really, it served as no surprise that he'd been summoned that evening after yet another small, spiteful "accident" and he stares at Ivar from the doorway.
"Yes, sire?"
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One day he'd been seeing in black-and-white as always, and the next, when he met the eyes of one of the new slaves, Bam! Color. He'd been tempted, so very tempted, to free Billy right then and there. But he was also afraid. From what he could see, Billy didn't love him. Heck, he didn't even seem to like him very much. So if he took the chance and freed him, there would be every possibility that he'd be gone within the hour, going as far from Kattegat as he could get.
No, it was better to keep him close by his side, even if that was killing him day after day. Still, if Billy wanted to be with him, he had yet to show it. It had been weeks now and all Ivar could see was someone who was just a sullen slave. He summoned him after the latest insubordination, a incident where he'd wasted the precious commodity of salt by using it to over-season the stew being served that night.
Ivar sat there in his personal chambers, looking less then pleased. "Tell me, are you doing your best to vex me day by day?"
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for geralt - [witcherofrivia]
Joyce tried to reassure him that it would be a good match and beneficial for the pack and Max -his stupid, horny, alpha sister- kept trying to tell him how damn lucky he was. Billy just rolled his eyes and threw a piece of toast at her head.
There were formalities they'd have to go through, of course, but they weren't for a few weeks yet and that meant that Billy was being pushed to get to know the alpha beforehand. And, yeah, alright. The guy was hot with his stupid gold eyes and those ridiculous thighs that he wouldn't mind sitting on and those stupid arms that could shove him into a wall or mattress and keep him there and his omega fucking whined at the idea of that man fucking him senseless but good sex wasn't enough to make a relationship, wasn't enough for a bond that didn't leave him fucking miserable for the rest of his life.
Joyce had organised everything for him, brought all the food over to his place and had given him the instructions on when to put things in the oven before pressing a kiss to his head and telling him to "play nice" before leaving again to take Will over to Wheeler's place.
Geralt would be here soon and food was almost ready and Billy?
Well, Billy looked fine as hell, if he said so himself, in a pair of tight, blue jeans and his boots, a black shirt that was only half buttoned and his scars on full display.
Re: for geralt - [witcherofrivia]
And really, he had planned to sleep a whole lot longer until someone came crashing into the underground cave he'd discovered. It had enough offshoots that one thankfully led to the open air and gave him plenty of oxygen. Besides that, he'd been able to slow down everything else so that he didn't need anything.
He was lucky had hadn't attacked Billy when he first awoke, having been totally unsure about what was going on. Strange to find some new creature chasing the omega and apparently a group of his friends? Later discovered to be part of his pack.
He could still remember the look on their faces when he'd pulled his silver sword and struck each of them down like it was nothing. The smallest of the group, Will, had been the one to break the silence of the whole group to excitedly exclaim that somehow they'd found a real living Witcher.
Regardless, he'd let them lead him back to their pack. Let them catch him up to speed about the world, about his pack that were now completely gone. The ways of creating the Witchers long since forgotten by everyone except Geralt himself. The pack had been kind and in the end had convinced him to take Billy as a mate, to bring Geralt into the pack himself.
He was apprehensive, but agreed as he approached the door. He knocked, sighing to himself and looking around. He had a small bouquet of flowers that he had picked himself and he actually hoped the omega liked them.
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broken boys (hoh!Steve/mute!Billy)
Listen, it sounds bad. He's aware. But considering that they'd both been in the hospital wing at the lab at the time ("you're lucky, kiddo, you'll get way better food here than at Hawkins Memorial!") and Hargrove had been, well, unconscious, he figured that it was fine. Plus he's got a built-in freakin' excuse now, right? Good ol' left ear's insides are mush and Steve isn't sure how smart these doctors here are because they put Hargrove on his goddamned left side-- so Steve kinda feels justified in keeping his head turned in that direction just in case the other guy wakes up and needs something.
Or you know, turns into a slime creature that wants to eat everyone.
Steve's eye is mostly healed. His ribs are mostly healed, and the small puncture in his right lung. But he's been told the hearing isn't going to come back and part of that, he can't help but think, is because of the shithead in the bed next to him and a generous application of ceramics and fists from the year before. Yeah-- it's a shitty attitude considering that Hargrove was possessed and drinking bleach or whatever but fuck. Sometimes the migraines come on so fast and hard that Steve has fever-dreamed of crawling over to the asshole and just pulling some plugs when he's in one of his less-lucid moments. Or just barfing all over him. He'd deserve either.
And then sometimes when Steve is sitting up talking to Robin and watching Max hover over Hargrove's bed... then he feels bad. Because Billy hasn't said a word since waking up and if Steve's nightmare's are bad he can't even imagine how the other guy gets to sleep without the help of drugs to force the issue.
Visitors are allowed in-- those who have signed the NDAs-- and there's the doctors but, for the most part, the days are long and, for Steve, either pretty silent or filled with the high whine of the rest of the hearing in his left ear slowly dying. He wishes he could smoke. Or drink. Sleeping has gotten boring. TV has pretty much been ruined. There's a stack of "required reading" on his bedside table that he refuses to touch because he knows there's no sex or humor in it, just nerd stuff. So Steve chews on the eraser of a pencil as he looks at a word search in his lap; he's cross-legged in his bed.
Lot of fun times around the hospital these days. Word searches and ex-flayed assholes one bed over. Just awesome.
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That pain, he doesn't think will ever go away. He sees their faces when he's asleep; sees the terror and hears their screams as they beg him to let them go before that thing takes a hold of them and the fear is replaced by cold indifference, cogs in a machine, lambs for sacrifice.
Harrington doesn't say much to him. Doesn't say anything to him and that's okay because it means he doesn't realise that every time Billy tries to form a word, acidic bile rises in his throat and threatens to choke him the same way he'd choked on thick, black blood when he was dying. He knows the guy watches him though, can feel those eyes boring into his skull and sometimes he's not sure if Harrington wants to kill him or talk to him.
Billy wakes slowly the same way he always does, eyes still heavy with meds and he rolls his head to look over at Harrington, sitting up like it's easy and staring at a... crossword? Fucking nerd. Billy wishes he had something to throw at him to get his attention.
He wishes he had the arm strength to throw something at him.
for gareththegreat
And his main form of company has been Eddie Munson, sitting in the bed next to him recovering from his own wounds. Of course, Gareth came by to keep them both company and all the brat have been around at every chance they could, especially Max and Dustin.
They'd even played D&D over Eddie's bed when the DM was finally feeling well enough to sit up and lead a campaign. That had been an interesting evening.
They had both finally been discharged that morning and, due to the lack of wheelchair access at his place and the Munson trailer being well and truly fucked, they'd been released to Steve's place. The Harrington's had a downstairs bedroom and a big enough bathroom that Billy would be able to manoeuvre his way around it without too much help needed.
For now, Billy's settled on the couch in the Harrington's den, some stupid sitcom playing silently on the TV. Steve's in the kitchen with Robin and Eddie and he's pretty sure they're arguing over what to order for dinner.
He smiles when Gareth comes back into the room.
"What are we deciding between?"
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After standing and listening to the three argue over what to order for about ten minutes Gareth got tired of it and made his way back to the den, sighing dramatically as he plopped down on the couch beside Billy and nuzzled his face into his boyfriends neck.
"Apparently they are stuck on if to order Chinese, pizza, or have Steve run to that Korean diner in town." He sighed, breathing in Billy's scent and relaxing more and more as he sat like that. It was weird, this new presentation that made everything more. He became more sensitive to others scents, especially depending on their mood, he could practically smell the last bits of the hospitals sanitary scent still clinging on Billy but it helped him relax knowing that it was going away. Billy was cleared to go home and even if he was still in recovery, he was safe.
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woops....Gareth had a word vomit moment LMAO
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for fruitonyourpie
Max had kept him company whenever she could but Steve could only bring her up so many days a week and with Neil gone and Susan 'working' all the time, there were only so many hours she could spend here, so he spent a lot of time sitting alone. It wasn't even like he was able to read to keep his mind occupied. Fucking Vecna, honestly.
It's one such day, where Billy is considering a nap just to kill time, when he sees too figures standing in the door way. They're still slightly fuzzy but he knows Max when he sees her.
Before he even gets a word out, Max has ducked into the room, dropped something at his bedside table -burgers, by the smell of it- and adds a quick "This is Jonathan's friend, he's gonna hang out here while we play D&D with Eddie next door." And she's gone again.
"Right. Okay. Hi Jonathan's friend." He looks... vaguely familiar with Billy's fucked up vision.
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"Oh man, my feelings will be all hurt if you don't remember my name, my dude," Argyle rumbled with his usual jovial good nature, as he pulled up a chair closer to the bed, turning it back to front to straddle over and fold his arms on the chair back in front of him. "Never knew you had a sister. She's a feisty one!"
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The ABO Thing
And then there was the Byers. Nobody could bring themselves to even consider what the boys might be, because one meant that they would be getting sought out when the hormones hit, or else they would start getting squirmy and desperate. At least, that was the general consensus. The only thing that made sense and comforted those outside of the Party was the idea that they just weren't part of that dichotomy.
Which meant that Jonathan, chronically alone, wasn't on anyone's radar. And that was how he liked it. It all felt like a damned farce to him anyway, and to make sure that he was left alone in it, he had taken steps. Perhaps not particularly legal steps, but it was the better option by his reckoning.
It also meant that he was considered safe by one of the only friends that he'd managed to make since starting high school. He was the nice, quiet boy, trustworthy, unlikely to look at good girl honor student Nancy Wheeler for anything more than support in the horrific events following the disappearance, then equally baffling reappearance of his younger brother. It meant that even though he didn't want to be in the middle of a crowd of his drunken, rowdy peers, here he was, invited by the one friend he's got at Hawkins High.
"What are you supposed to be?"
"A guy who hates parties."
The joke precedes him back out of the front door to the lawn where the keg, and the gaggle of jocks swarming around it, were situated. He feels better out here in the fresh air, even as someone marches by looking for a bush to lose his supper into. He watches the crowd, and wishes he had his camera just to be able to document the ridiculous debauchery. Framed correctly, he could even put it into the school paper. A costume party for all comers regardless of social circle. The faculty would like that. It would make them all seem far more wholesome than they actually were.
Seated by the fire pit out in the yard, Jonathan let his eyes wander. He never settled on any one thing for long, and yet time and again, he returned to one thing: the new guy, moved out here from California. The one the girls ogled openly, and who pushed around anyone he decided deserved it. Jonathan already knows that Billy Hargrove preemptively hates him. Approaching him is out of the question, even though something in his gut tells him that this guy, this Billy Idol lookalike, is going to be important.
For now though, he's just a photogenic asshole in the middle of a ring of guys just like him.
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It was obvious from the moment he’d stepped into the high school that people weren’t used to male omegas, let alone mouthy, attitude fulled, asshole-ish omegas like Billy. He knew he didn’t fit the mold of what an omega should be and it ruffled a lot of feathers.
Didn’t stop the girls and some of the dudes from swooning over him. Tommy H had been up his ass from the moment he stepped foot over the threshold and Carol just seemed to humour her mate and while he didn’t really need a sycophant, it could have been a lot worse.
At least the parties were still pretty fucking good. Nothing beat a rager at the beach, skinny dipping and a bonfire, but this Halloween party being thrown at some random person’s house was definitely not the worst party he’d been to. And the booze was free-flowing.
He’s just stepping down from a keg stand, telling the teens of Hawkins High how it’s done when he catches a whiff of something. There’s something off about it and it makes him sneeze and it’s gone before he can figure out where it’s coming from, Tommy H herding him towards Harrington so he can get up in the guy’s face.
He doesn’t smell it again until after the Wheeler bitch has a tantrum and she and Harrington stomp off upstairs. He sneezes again.
It’s the last time he smells it for the night but there’s something about it that settles heavy in the back of his mind, like it’s something important and he needs to remember it.
And then he’s too fucking drunk to think of much and it doesn’t occur to him until late the next day that there was something important he needed to remember.
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For Steve [crawlingbackwards] and Jonathan [netflixandwill]
The creatures had been a constant. It was hard to tell which were the worst. Maybe the bats. They were harder to detect. He'd gotten good at killing them. But mostly he'd hidden. The smaller ones he could fight off but the big ones? He'd never stand a chance. So he hid. Moving through the various houses that made up the twisted, dark, frozen version of Hawkins, Indiana, doing whatever he could to survive.
And then one day the world had trembled and things had been different from then on. He'd seen the soldiers once, from where he was hidden just out of sight of the new facility that had popped up almost overnight. He'd seen the way they killed everything they saw.
He'd hidden from them too.
But things had continued to change after that. The soldiers ventured further out, always armed, always ready for an attack. He'd seen them collect up the smaller ones. Even some of the bats. Vines and other various things that made up this warped placed. Nothing that went into the facility came out and he could imagine what was happening in there. There were scientists too. They never left the gates of the facility. Rarely even came outside. But he knew they were there.
He knew what they'd do if they found him.
He's been in this house for a little while, the soldiers don't come around here much anymore so it's the safest option and there's still food here. Billy's watching out a window, always vigilante, when he sees them.
Four people. Not soldiers. No weapons. No vehicle.
It's different.
He's never seen this before.
He makes a decision.
Slowly, almost timid, Billy heads outside.
Once he's closer, he realises he recognises them. The names don't come. He doesn't remember them. But he knows those faces. Knows those people.
Something in him recognises them as people who can help.
He doesn't remember the last time he spoke but it's evident that it's been a while when he tries now.
The word is barely more than a whisper, voice raspy with disuse, but he manages one syllable.
"Help."
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The alien sounds never really seemed to cease here, slithering, twitching, crackling, writhing noises surrounding them at such a low volume that it all blended together into an unsettling susurrus. The sound of footsteps approaching prompts them all to whip around on the spot to see the battered, emaciated figure approaching them.
Help.
Jonathan's arms spread to immediately tuck the others behind him even while flashlights and gun barrels point over his shoulders. "Hold on, stop," he snaps, glancing behind him to see the exasperation on Nancy's face, the confusion on Dustin's. He doesn't want to see the chagrin that Steve points toward him as he takes the lead in approaching someone that he doesn't recognize immediately.
He steps forward, flashlight pointed more toward Billy's body than his face to keep from blinding him. "You need help?" he asks quietly, keeping a sharp eye on Billy in case he decides to attack.
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