#hopper is billy's dad

[cavinginhisfvce]

'William Orchard Hopper"

Pairing: Harringrove.

Tw: child abuse, mentions of infidelity.

This started out as a headcanon of Jim being Billy biological dad and quickly spiraled into this??? Sorry. <3

Not many people know that Jim Hopper spent a considerable amount of time in California in his twenties.

Jim and Billy's mom, Bria Hargrove met and had an affair that led to Billy being born.

Neil knows Billy isn't his son, and becomes abusive towards Bria and Billy until she can no longer take it. 

When Billy is ten, she leaves and hides a note in Billy's room for him to find. 

The note tells him that Neil isn't his real father, it tells him his real father lives in Indiana. Hawkins, specifically but that he had once lived in California. She tells him that the man is named Jim Hopper. She doesn't give him any other details. Not that it truly matters, Neil is whose on his birth certificate. Neil is who is raising Billy into the man he's destined to be.

Confused, Billy tucks the note away. He can almost forget about it, but the knowledge that Neil isn't his dad stays with him. Even when Neil married Susan, and he gained a step-sister in her daughter, Max. 

It doesn't become a problem for Billy until Neil announces that their new, fragile thing of a family is moving to Hawkins, Indiana. 

He doesn't know if Neil knows he'll be dropping them in the town of the very man his mother cheated on him with.

A week after the move, Billy makes the mistake of getting high after Neil's latest lesson in Respect and Responsibility that ended with Billy nursing bruised ribs and what's definitely a mild concussion. 

The mistake isn't smoking weed, per say. No, Billy's mistake was forgetting just how loose lipped he gets when high. Because, now he's shown Max the letter his mom left all those years ago, he tells her that Neil isn't his biological father.

Max doesn't say anything, she just stands up and hugs her step-brother. 

The blond tenses briefly, before he's sinking into the hug; his own arms winding around her small frame. 

She's gotten taller, so with Billy sitting, his head is pressed into her stomach.

She doesn't comment on the warmth of his tears, she just hugs him tighter.

What does someone say to their step-brother who's father beats him on a regular basis? What do you say when that same boy knows the man who lords his parental status over him, isn't actually his dad? 

Max decides you say nothing. Billy doesn't seem put off by the lack of response. 

It isn't until after Halloween, after Max has plunged a syringe into Billy's neck to sedate him when a panic attack had led to a violent fit, that they're both forced to confront the very thing Billy has tried so hard to forget.

It wasn't the first time Billy lashed out like this, but it was one of the worst times. Her new friends had gotten permission from Neil and her mother to come over, but something set Billy off when she introduced him to Jane.

To his credit, Billy had fled the house when he noticed his breathing picking up. It hadn't helped much, because Max followed behind him, leading her friends to do the same.

When Jane met his gaze, her eyes were soft but unreadable, like she knew she held the last name of the man his mother confessed was actually his father.

It could've been a coincidence, but his mom had also told him the mystery man was training to become a police officer. 

That was too many coincidences, if you asked Billy.

He doesn't remember much after that, not that ever does. 

He knows her friends had been afraid, but for some weird fucking reason they tried to comfort him.

The curly-haired one even called Steve Harrington, declaring that the elder was good in situations like this. 

Billy seriously doubted that, but he'd never pass up a chance to see Steve. Their relationship was still new. New as in they'd only been official for the past week.

Once Steve had arrived, the kids all seemed to lose interest in everything, and retreated into the living room to play video games. Max took some convincing, but eventually, they were able to pry her away from the place she'd refused to leave at Billy's side.

The couple quickly toed off to Billy's room, and Steve wasted no time in pulling Billy into his arms.

Billy felt bone-tired, the sedative given to him never knocks him out, it mostly tires him out. Makes the world fuzzy, and like it's covered in a foggy film.

But, this felt different. This felt like a tiredness that wouldn't be quelled by resting for the remainder of the day. 

The younger boy hadn't told Steve about Jim, so when he asked what triggered this episode, Billy quickly spilled. He spoke until his throat felt raw, and his hands were shaking. 

He spoke until the room felt as if all the air was quickly evaporating. 

Steve waited until Billy's word vomit came to an end, before gently responding, "It's okay, B. If Hop is your dad, he's a good man. A little grumpy, but he's not like…" he trails off, but Billy can fill in the blanks just fine.

"H-how am I even supposed to broach this subject with him, Steve? What if...what if he doesn't want me just like her, and I'm stuck with Neil until I'm 18, or dead?" 

The brunet quickly reaches out to cup Billy's cheek, his thumb grazing the smooth skin. "That won't happen. Even if it did, you've got me. You're never gonna be stuck with him forever so long as I'm alive and breathing, baby."

There's more the boy wants to say, but he just feels so tired. The sounds of the kids all yelling in the other room serve as nothing more than background noise.

It's about an hour later, and Billy's only been fighting his sleep because Steve is showing him various tiktoks and clips of random gamers he enjoys.

Soon though, he's starting to doze on Steve's shoulder, when there's a knock at his door, then a head of brown curls are peaking into his room.

Jane.

His breath hitches, but Steve's hand finds his back and begins to soothingly rub his stress away. 

Metaphorically, of course. Because in reality, Billy is still freaking out.

"Jim is here to pick me up, but he wanted to meet you."

This causes him to bristle, "Me? Why?"

Jane merely shrugs, before turning away. 

Billy has an inkling she does know, but he swallows it down and climbs off his bed to make the short trek to the living room.

When he lays eyes on Hopper, the man is dressed in his uniform, a small grimace on his lips as he observes the sparsely decorated room.

His eyes eventually land on Billy and he offers something that could be considered a smile.

"So you're the owner of that Camaro out front, or is that your dad's?"

Billy wants to laugh out loud at the question, but instead he shakes his head. "No, sir. She's all mine, fixed her from the ground up myself." 

It was true, Billy spent months fixing her up, she'd been all but totaled when he found her body at the junkyard in California. 

He immediately fell in love with the car, despite the appearance and the rest was history.

The chief let out a long whistle, along with an approving nod.

"Damn kid. You lookin' for work? I know the mechanic in town could use someone like you on weekends."

Billy only nods, unsure of what to say. 

"Yeah, yeah that'd be great, actually! Thanks."

Jim nods, his eyes never leaving their place of observing the blond. 

"I'll set it up, just come by my office on Monday and we'll work out all the kinks."

Soon after, Jim leaves with Jane, who promises Max that they'll hang out soon.

Much to Billy's chargin, Steve leaves with the rest of the kids, sans Max, around forty-five minutes later.

Neil and Susan return after Billy has finished cleaning up the dishes from his and Max's dinner. 

His dad seems pissed by something, something Billy can't figure out.

Not that it matters. All that matters is that his bad mood means a repeat of last night. 

As it plays out, Billy doesn't have to wait until Monday, because the man in question all but busts the Hargrove's front door down, catching Neil in the act of wailing on the defenseless blond.

There's a whirlwind of activity that ends with his father in cuffs, and Hopper escorting Billy to the hospital with Max glued to his side while Susan tails the Chief's car.

On the drive there, Billy doesn't expect the chief to blurt out, "Jane heard what you told Steve." Billy wants to play dumb, he wants to pretend he has no clue what Hopper is referring to; but instead he just shrugs and glances back at Max, the red-head at least looks apologetic. 

"Does she always ear hustle that hard?" The large man huffs out a laugh, "you have no clue kid," he pauses, chewing at his lip before he carefully continues, "I knew the last name was familiar, just chalked up to a coincidence. But your ma...you look just like her…"

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" 

"I didn't want to assume, I was gonna do some digging. You know? I didn't know Bria was pregnant when we broke things off. All she said was Neil was getting suspicious. She didn't tell me, if she had…" he trails off, pulling up to the entrance of the hospital. 

"I'm gonna make this right, Billy. I promise."

Billy wants to scoff, but one glance at Max's hopeful face in the mirror has Billy nodding instead. 

"Yeah, okay." His words are soft, lacking any bite. 

It turns out that the police chief busting down your front door to find your "father" beating you bloody, is more than enough evidence to send said man to prison. 

It also turns out that one nicely worded threat is enough to have Neil Hargrove give up parental rights that never rightly belonged to him.

A DNA test for confirmation later Billy was getting a new birth certificate in the mail with the name William Orchard Hopper.

Below it read Bria Hargrove and James Hopper.

Billy was in the middle of decorating his new room in Hopper's place when Max barged in, Steve trailing behind her with a sweet grin on his lips.

"Billy, can you take me and Jane to the arcade?" Jane, who Billy hadn't noticed initially just smiled up at him.

The boy shook his head, turning to Steve, "aren't these your charges? Why am I the chaperone?"

Max rolls his eyes, "you're our brother, so you have to! You love us!"

Jane quickly nods her head, a sparkle in her eyes, "Yeah! You love us."

Steve hums his agreement, which has Billy shaking his head again, "okay, whatever shitbirds. Let me change, at least."

They seem to accept that, and slip out the room, leaving Billy and Steve alone.

The latter smiles at him, before crossing the room to plant a light kiss to his lips.

"Alright, now hurry up, Blondie! We can't let the boys get too cocky, Jonathan dropped them off already and I just know Dustin is trying to beat Max's highscores already. They're gonna fight all day."

Once Billy is dressed, he drags Steve out his bedroom, only to run into Hopper. Literally. 

Billy's head bounces against his chest and everything.

The man just grunts and steadies the smaller boy, his lips parting to speak before Billy is wrapping his arms around his midsection, "see you for dinner, Pops!" before he's grabbing Steve's hand and ushering Max and Jane out the door.

Jim doesn't miss the smile that graces his son's lips before he calls out, "be safe!"

He can almost see the way Jane and Billy roll their eyes before responding without missing a beat, 

"Us? Always!" Jim doesn't mention the time he had to put out a small fire from when Billy tried to teach Jane tricks with his zippo.

Yeah, always my ass, he thinks.

[theladycarpathia]

Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

[weird-an]

Billy hides in his room like a spooked cat at first.

Hopper tries his best to be patient. The boy has been through a lot, he reminds himself. He needs time.

The first of Billy's things Hopper finds outside of his room is some hairspray in the bathroom.

Billy is still hiding.

But slowly, there is more stuff lying around. His sweater, a few earrings, some books Hopper or El definitely didn‘t buy.

Billy shows up in the living room more often. They watch cheesy movies together both of them deny to like.

One day, Hopper comes home and finds a topless Steve Harrington drinking a soda in the kitchen.

"Hey Hop! Billy said you would not mind, if I stayed for dinner?"

Hopper finally realizes that Billy trusts him.

[harringroveera]

Billy: Oh, hey, Chief. Did you find the report I put on your table?

Jim: Yeah, I did, nice work finding it

Billy: Thanks, dad

Everyone: ...

Billy: Why is everyone staring at me?

Max: You just called Chief Hopper "dad." You said, "thanks, dad”

Billy: What? No, I didn't. I said, "thanks, man”

Jim: Do you see me as a father figure, Billy?

Billy: No. If anything, I see you as a "bother" figure, 'cause you're always bothering me

Robin: Hey, show your father some respect

Billy: I didn't call him dad

Jim: No, no, no, Billy. I take it as a compliment

Argyle: It's not a big deal. I called Jonathan "dad" once, and he’s my boyfriend

Billy: Guys, jump on that! Argyle has psycho-sexual issues!

Max: Old news. But you calling Jim "daddy"...

Billy: Hey, "daddy" is not on the table here

Steve: But you did call him "dad," Billy

Billy: You shut up. You've done nothing but flirt since you got here

Steve: All right, all right, I was flirting with you. But the dad thing, that happened

Billy: Aha! He admitted that he was flirting with me! It was a trap, all part of my crazy, devious plan!

Jim: I believe you

Billy: Thank you

Jim: Son

Billy: ...

Jim: Do you want to talk about it later over a game of catch?

Billy: ...

Billy: I'd like that

(Gif version)

[lostlimerence]

The Youngest

CW: discussions of predatory behaviour.

He’s the youngest of the three, a fact that is all too easy to forget.

Sometimes, when he’s reminded, it’s something mundane, like when the boys have a disagreement and Steve, to ease the tension, jokingly ruffles Billy’s blond curls with some quip like, “respect your elders,” as Eddie nods sagely with a barely suppressed smile.

Other times, it catches him off guard, like the time he’d passed Billy a cup of coffee, “black,” (like he’d ordered) then watched, not without amusement, as the boy’s nose had crinkled in disgust at the first sip.

But then, far too often he’s reminded in moments like this. When the kid’s cornered by some self-serving adult.

This time it’s Karen Wheeler.

He watches as she crowds Billy, manicured talons glinting as she strokes the length of his arm. His back is pressed up against the Camaro, knuckles white where he grips the handle. When he sees a predator cornering it’s prey on Tv Jim’s skin pricks, just like it is now. He’s caught the live show and Billy sure as hell isn’t the predator.

Jim pushes himself out of his car, takes a breath, and tries to swallow the acrid anger rising in his gut. He needs to be calm. Diffuse and extract. He repeats this mantra as he strolls over.

“Billy!” the kid starts hard and turns, anxiety clearly coursing his veins. Karen just looks up, clear irritation spreading across her face.

Jim hates her.

He forces a grin “hey kid,” he shouts, flicking a pointed stare at Karen as he does, before focusing on Billy “why you still here? Pool’s shut, isn’t it?” Billy looks a little perplexed as he replies, “yeah, I was just, er, leaving, right Mrs Wheeler?” he turns back to the woman, who has at least taken a few steps back. She doesn’t look even slightly phased as she corrects him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “we’ve spoken about this Billy, call me Karen,” as she bats her eyes in a way that makes Jim want to knock her out.

It’s an image he allows himself as he closes in on them, stretches his grin further and says “with all due respect Mrs Wheeler surely Nancy and Mike are home by now,” she has the audacity to puff up at the dig “I was just about to head home Hopper. The kids will be fine for a bit,” Jim keeps smiling, “ of course Mrs Wheeler, you get back to your kids and I’ll take care of this one.” he says it in what El has affectionately dubbed his ‘Chief Voice.’ It leaves no room for argument. With a slight huff Karen shrinks back, sends one final sweeping glance at Billy, before retreating to the safety of her car with a sharp “Goodnight.”

He watches pointedly as she drives out of the car park, then turns to Billy. He’s strung tight, trembling and pale. Jim braces himself, ready for an argument as he speaks“you aren’t driving anywhere like this kid, get in my car,” he’s surprised when Billy complies. Jim follows suit, puts the car in drive, there’s no destination for now.

Billy’s shaking hands curl into fists as the car pulls out onto the road. Jim waits, gives the kid time to process. The silence is long but when the words come they’re seething “I was fucking fine,” he hisses, “I don’t need your fucking help,” he’s gritting his teeth, snarling like an animal, hackles raised. Jim won’t rise to it, he knows this is the ‘fight’ part of Billy’s wiring, something he calls upon constantly. Instead he simply and calmly states “no you weren’t, and yes you do,” eyes fixed firmly on the road.

His periphery catches the lock and load in the kid’s throat as Billy’s teeth grit impossibly harder, he twists in his seat and pulls the trigger as he roars “What the fuck do you know?!” it’s fucking loud, splits Jim’s ears, but he keeps his composure, because Billy is a fucking kid and he’s a fucking adult. Plus, Jim knows he’s being pushed for a reaction, violence is the only language Billy knows especially when it comes to adult men, and Jim will never speak it, no matter how hard Billy tries to make him.

He waits for a beat, listens to the kids laboured breathing before speaking deliberately and slowly,“she’s a predator Billy, old enough to be your mother. Hell, her daughter is older than you. She shouldn’t be anywhere near you,” he glances over, sees a little bit of the anger dissipate as Billy retorts “yea I know that,” he leaves a beat before adding “you old fucker,” and Jim does nothing but raise a brow, refusing to take the bait. He lets Billy stew until the silence becomes too much and the kid continues just to break it, “it doesn’t fuckin matter, it’s always like this, I know how to get away, it’s fuckin fine, I don’t need you,” he spits the word need like it’s poison on his tongue.

Jim gets it, he knows this visceral reaction to offered help is nothing but Billy’s innate survival instincts kicking in. The kid has never been able to trust an adult to protect him, never been allowed to need someone like that. He has no logical basis that would allow him to just trust Jim. But Jim is a stubborn ‘old fucker,’ determined to become someone Billy can trust. But to build that trust Jim needs to get through to the kid, and to do that, he knows needs to push, needs Billy to accept some sort of help. So that’s what he does, he pushes a bit, calm but firm “what were you gonna do Billy?” silence hangs, “to get yourself outta there?”

It takes a while but eventually Billy frowns and mumbles “dunno, but I’d have done something,” and Jim needs to drive his point home so he takes a bit of a risk and asks “would you have shoved her? Hit her?” and that gets a reaction, the kid shoots up straight-backed with an emphatic and horrified ‘No,’ and Jim isn’t proud of it but he has to keep pushing so he says pointedly “then what would you have done?” and the only answer he gets is an exasperated “ugh. I don’t. Fucking. Know.” the silence that settles is suffocating.

When Jim breaks it he treads carefully, speaks slowly as he chooses his words, “exactly Billy, you don’t know. Unfortunately, that isn’t a situation, though by god I wish it was, where I could’ve just arrested her. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, it just means our justice system is shite,” Billy flashes a brief smile at that “ so because I can’t just cuff her, we need an alternative plan.” Billy opens his mouth, likely to protest again, but Jim soldiers on “This is what is going to happen, you’re going to give me your work schedule. I’m going to give you one of my kids walkie talkie things, because it can reach my radio. If not me, someone from my team will be in the car park for every late finish and you are going to contact me with the talkie thing if you end up in a situation where you need me to come and get you immediately, Ok?” Billy doesn’t speak straight away, stares out into the darkness before answering in a voice that cracks just a little “fine, whatever old man.”

With that Jim lets the tension bleed from his body. He needs to speak to Billy more, needs to sit him down properly, have repeated conversations with the kid about personal safety, consent, hell maybe even stranger danger with how reckless he can be sometimes. But that is for another time, now he needs to get him somewhere safe, so he just says “great! Now where am I taking you?” Billy shakes himself a little “just home,” Jim questions that, pointedly glancing at his still slightly trembling hands, “is that wise right now?” Billy frowns a little but changes his answer, “Munson’s” Jim smiles. Eddie is so well attuned to Billy, he knows the kid will get nothing but comfort as soon as Eddie lays eyes on him (he also knows Steve will be with them in a flash).

He makes the short drive to Eddies, cuts the engine outside and turns to face Billy, “I’ll get you a talkie and give it to Eddie or Steve tomorrow ok?” Billy stares at him shocked. He looks so young, so lost, like he can’t comprehend the idea that Jim isn’t just all talk, it takes a while but he gets a quiet “yea ok,” before the kid is suddenly yanking the door open, turning to slam it shut with a brief muffled “thanks old man” slipping through the gap, before he’s off practically sprinting to the door.

Jim chuckles to himself, at least it’s better than ‘old fucker,’ he waits for Eddie to open the door, sees the blatant look of concern as he gently slides a hand into Billy’s and pulls him across the threshold, just catches a glance of Steve who’s staring worriedly at his cop car before the door swings shut. Jim sighs starts his engine and heads home.

Billy’s the youngest, the most vulnerable of the three, sometimes it’s easy to forget.

Sometimes it’s vital to remember.

[writer-in-theory]

okay i see we've been talking a lot about hopper and billy's mom today and how about

hopper wasn't sure how he felt about letting his adopted son's boyfriend be at the cabin when he wasn't there to supervise the door rule, especially since el had now started asking why mike can't come over all the time the way steve does. still, he told himself it was fine because they'd gotten away with it for so many weeks by claiming they were just friends, that the two brats would probably just find a more sneaky way to see each other that could get them into trouble.

he was glad he'd made that decision on this particular day, though, because hopper was swamped with work and would've stayed late at the station if it weren't for the phone call sent directly to his office. not many had that number, the ones that did were either his children or the people who had gotten wrapped up in the upside down business. neither was a good sign.

"this is hopper," he said gruffly into the phone, eyes still focused on the papers all over his desk.

all focus was abandoned at steve's slightly breathless voice. he could tell the boy was trying to put off an air of calmness, but there was a barely-there shake to his voice that had hopper immediately standing, hands trying to find where he'd tossed his keys. "hop, it's an emergency. billy, he...he needs you, he's asking for you."

the whole drive home, hopper considered those words. it hadn't been easy, taking billy in after joyce caught neil hargrove smacking him in the melvald's parking lot, but he tried. they both were rough around the edges from years of trauma, both had a lot to unlearn still in ways they interacted with others, both constantly said the wrong thing because they were scared. but there had been so much progress, and though billy would never be totally soft around the edges the glass-sharp points had dulled. hopper had beamed when he overheard billy casually telling steve that his dad was coming to the grad party steve was throwing himself at the harrington house. so while hopper gripped the wheel with a white-knuckles, fearing how badly billy could be hurting if it caused an emergency call from steve harrington, he couldn't help but feel a little warm in the chest that billy had asked for him, that he trusted him enough to let him in.

the cabin hadn't really been quite in awhile. it was full of life in a way hopper never would have even thought to wish for a couple of years ago. usually when he came home from work, billy and steve would be lounged out on the couch, either watching tv or helping el and sometimes max through their homework. it wasn't uncommon for joyce and the byers boys to be over too, in which case billy and will would be cooking in the kitchen and smacking anyone with a wooden spoon if they dared get near the food because good lord could no one else in that cabin handle it.

so when hopper walked into the cabin to hear deathly silence, every hair on his body stood on end. el was sitting at the dinner table, a plate of eggos in front of her that she was picking at. hopper had never seen her do anything less than devour those silly waffles. "what happened?" hopper asked her, not seeing any signs of the upside down being back or neil having escaped prison.

"the phone made billy sad," el explained simply before turning back to her eggos, seemingly having the courage to eat them now that hopper was home.

that...didn't make sense, but he supposed there was only one way to really get the full story. he made his way to the little room in the back of the cabin that had been cleared away for billy a year before. hopper might've smiled triumphantly on any other day upon seeing the bedroom door still open a few inches even when he hadn't been home, but the hushed voice of steve interspersed with the occasional sniffle made hopper abandon that thought quickly.

"hey, kid, i'm home. you wanna tell me what's goin' on?" hopper asked in the most gentle voice he could muster up. he knew to be careful with billy when it came to volume, to what words in what orders were too reminiscent of neil.

the sight made hopper's heart break. billy was sat on the ground, knees brought up and upper body thrown across them, head hanging down. his shoulders were shaking, convulsing in a way that proved billy was crying or panicking. steve was sat beside him, more distance between their bodies than their usual constant—and fuck was it constant—cuddling, but his hand was splayed out across billy's back, rubbing up and down in a slow pattern.

"i'm not crying," billy immediately defended himself, head still facing to the ground.

"i know you aren't, hotrod," hopper returned, knowing billy knew he saw through the lie. he'd give him this, though, knew it was important for the kid to have some sense of control over situations.

billy looked up then, eyes focused only on the boy just beside him. hopper tried not to take it personally that he sought comfort from his boyfriend over him, told himself that was normal for people the kid's age. it was the same with el, calling max over for a girls night before she was ever ready to talk some things out with hop.

the boys had grown undeniably close. it was a miracle in and of itself, hopper thought, considering the first time he'd ever seen them together was after a fight in the hawkins high parking lot. now they seemed to have their own language, simply giving each other a look and billy nudging steve with his elbow lightly before steve was turning to hopper.

"billy called his mom today."

and that. well. what the fuck was he meant to do with that? there was so much to unpack in a singular sentence that hopper had to sit, leaning against the desk tucked into the corner of billy's room. he wiped a hand over his face, considering how any of this made sense.

billy didn't talk a lot about california, or his mom. hopper knew that she had left when he was young, and that fact alone was enough for hop to hate her because how could a parent ever leave their kid in a situation like that? how dare she claim to love him then leave him and give billy the false hope that she'd come back someday?

"you what?" hopper finally asked, head already hurting from thinking it through.

"fuckin' wheeler said she could find her. got an address and a phone number n' everything," billy forced out, finally turning to look at hopper. that wild fire in his eyes had returned, the kind that reminded hopper of himself at that age. it was that exact kind of fire, the deeply rooted, burning rage that sent him enlisting in the first place. "she has a family, a son eight years younger than me. she's happy, said she didn't want any 'reminders of her old life'. i dunno what i expected."

"you expected her to be a fucking mother," hopper couldn't help the anger that slipped out, hoping billy understood that it was never directed at him. he seemed to, because the kid just scoffed and looked away. "it's her loss, you hear me, kid? any person would be lucky to have a kid like you—hey, no shaking your head. they would be, i am. i am so proud every day that i get to see what a great man you're becoming, don't doubt that for a second."

it was quiet in the cabin. the mini-speech floated up and up until the words had completely dissipated, leaving only two crying boys and a heaving hopper, a little girl trying to eavesdrop in the other room. then billy stood, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the little end table by his bed and taking off out the front door of the cabin.

"he'll be back," steve offered, shrugging a little and likely feeling as helpless as hopper did in that moment. "he's just..."

"...letting off some steam. i know." hopper sighed, clapping his hands together and fully standing up. "c'mon, let's see what kinda dinner we can scrounge up."

it was only when the smell of burnt pizza filled the cabin when billy came back inside. his cheeks and nose were tinged pink from the cold, having forgone a jacket when he'd made his quick escape. he didn't make eye contact with any of them. "hey, what are you doing? that's my job."

"you needed a break from work tonight," hopper sighed, the way billy had gasped out something about respect and responsibility the first time he'd forgotten a chore still scarred in his mind.

"no, what i need to do is cook for my family," billy huffed out, hands flying about until steve got the hint and stepped away from the oven. billy focused on the stove, staring at his hands as he pulled together a few simple ingredients into something undoubtedly delicious. "you and el. steve. mrs. byers, johnathan, 'n' little byers. that's my family. you're who matters."

and god did hopper want to hug his son.

[fanatics4l]

three inch rule but make it hopper + harringrove:

billy had his boyfriend, steve, over for the evening. his older, adult boyfriend, steve. el was at a sleepover with max and hopper was sulking on his arm chair with a can of beer in his hands. the television was playing softly and his son's bedroom door could be seen from his line of vision. he'd made billy promise to always keep the door open three inches earlier on when he introduced steve as his boyfriend. although their chatter and laughter was quite loud, hopper didn't mind too much that steve harrington was over at their place so many times.

billy had been following this rare rule quite well, surprisingly. hopper expected more of a fight. still, he was grateful. but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed that billy even had a boy over in the first place. hopper didn't see what billy saw in that kid. first of all, steve was older. automatic no. second... well there was no second. hopper knew steve was a great kid. he babysat el and her friends, made sure he brought billy home in time for his curfew, and was very polite to hopper.

most importantly, he made billy very happy. when hopper first adopted billy, he was a damaged, broken little boy who flinched at every little movement and sound, constantly expected to be hit, and often cried. billy was a sensitive boy. his father had ruined him and beaten him down to nothing. it took a major support system through hopper, el, max, and joyce to get billy to ease up. he was healing every day. back then, billy never smiled. he only scowled and lashed out and screamed. but now, he was always smiling.

and as reluctant as he was, hopper knew he had steve to thank for that. which was why he wasn't making a huge deal to billy's face about his boyfriend being at their place all the time and only complained to joyce.

but then billy's bedroom door quietly closed. hopper waited, immediately tensing up, for billy to open the door again and for it to have just been the wind or something. he waited a few moments, beer can crushing in his grip.

next, he heard the noise. now hopper might not have been getting any action lately but he was aware enough to know a moan when he heard one.

he bolted out of his armchair, rushing to the closed bedroom door. "hey- HEY! I SAID THREE INCHES! WHAT DID I SAY-"

he slammed the door open, holding onto the door knob as he peered into the little bedroom. his eyes were wide and he was breathing hard because what the fuck? billy was underage. steve was not. there should be no sexual activities going on at all.

the words died on his tongue as he took in the sight of his son sitting up against his back rest and steve laying beside him with one arm behind his head. the two of them turn to hopper, looking at him with innocent expressions of confusion and concern.

"what's wrong, pops?" billy asked, eyes wide.

hopper's eyes narrowed at billy's messy hair and ruffled shirt. then, he glared at steve's even messier hair and lack of shirt.

"where's your fucking shirt, kid?" he deadpanned the eighteen year old.

steve cleared his throat, sitting up beside billy. there were blushes on both their cheeks. "i, uh. it got kinda hot in here, chief."

hopper merely raised a brow. bullshit. billy perked up, sending a sweet smile at him. hopper was weak for his kids' smiles, especially billy's rare ones. and billy knew this. he was using that info for his advantage.

"yeah, pops. it's the truth. and the wind blew the door closed, sorry about that."

hopper sighed tiredly. he was too old for this. he knew he couldn't stop his kids from fooling around but that didn't mean he had to outright accept it. he'd stay in denial all he wanted.

he clenched his jaw extra hard when steve shot a smug smile at him. stay calm, jim. stay calm. billy loves him and that's all that matters.

"i'm going off to shower. you better be out of the house by the time i'm back, kid."

"sure thing, chief," steve smirked. then, he fucking winked at billy, making him stifle a giggle. the fucking audacity. right in front of hopper's face.

hopper closed his eyes momentarily. he turned to leave the room but not before shouting, "THREE INCH RULE."

kids these days.

[busterrrhymes]

when steve and billy are engaged they really struggle with what to do about the last name situation, one way or another they have to change them.

they’ve been brainstorming for months and months. henderson is tossed out there, max and susan gave the okay to use mayfield, the byers offered their name up but they just couldn’t decide.

billy likes the idea of steve taking hargrove and himself taking harrinton because it would be funny and confuse people. and wheeler too because steve dated nancy and billy tried to fuck karen (billy’s life revolves around bits).

they finally decide literally three days before the wedding when el is over and she said in passing, “you know when i didn’t have a last name hopper gave me his” and then it clicks. hopper. three kids who grew up without a father figure who then found and pretty damn good one. and now they’ll all share his last name.

[fbfh]

No bc Billy is such a fucking caring protective boyfriend. Once he decides you're - for all intents and purposes - part of his pack, he will always protect you. The party, the other teens, even Hopper and Joyce (along with Max and Susan obviously) are all part of his little circle of people that he will never let anything bad happen to. Any time you're having a problem, he can tell. You've just started going straight to Billy when you have a problem because he's so quick to tell when something is wrong. You know why he's so good at picking up on miniscule changes in someone's mood and behavior, and it breaks you heart. But now, like so many other traits and defense mechanisms he's developed, he's able to use them for good, to protect you and your friends. It's not perfect, but it's a huge improvement.

One time you ran up to him, he knew something was wrong just by the way you were walking before he even saw your face, and started telling him everything, trying to hold yourself together. Whether the guys you had bumped into made fun of you or just made you uncomfortable, you know Billy won't let it slide.

"I was just trying to walk my dog, and they won't leave me alone, and-"

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you know he has this under control.

"Those guys over there?" He asks, voice low and calculated. You nod.

"Stay here." He states, giving your dog an appreciative scratch on the head for helping to look after you. He resolves the issue out of earshot and out of your sight. You don't know the details, but the next time you see those guys, they turn and practically run the other way. When you thank him for taking such good care of you, keeping you safe, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"'Course. I always will."

Every day that you or one of the kids or even his friends feel safe enough to come and talk to him when you're feeling vulnerable, every day someone comes to him to feel safe is another day he knows he beat the statistics, broke out of the cycle. It's more and more proof that he did it, and he can keep doing it, for you guys and for himself.

[cavinginhisfvce]

Hopper, casually ruffling Billy's hair: You did good kid! I'm proud of you.

Billy, bewildered: The hell did you just do to me?

Hopper, lowering his hand: I just tousled your hair. Ain't nobody ever done that to you before?

Billy, grabbing Hopper's wrist: Keep. Going.

[themistymountainscold]

hopper, walking into the living room seeing:

jonathan laying on argyle's chest asleep

will leaning against mike showing him some of his sketches

el and max giggling as they flipped through a magazine together

billy straddling steve's lap cuddling him

hopper: *gives them all the door open three inches rule*

[weird-an]

Hopper is not good with words. He has trouble finding the right ones and he is not a patient man.

And Billy is really getting on his nerves.

Billy never turns his back on Hopper. He is always close to the door, ready to bolt. Hopper is annoyed by it.

It‘s not his fault, Hopper knows that. He can see Neil Hargrove‘s shadow looming over every word Billy says, every glance Billy takes over his shoulder when Hopper is in the room and a bit out of sight. It hurts, if Hopper is being honest.

So he tries his best. He doesn‘t raise his voice, he lets Billy be a stubborn teenager sometimes and he encourages him to not do the bloody dishes the second dinner is finished. (Even though his house has never been that clean before)

And he lets Steve Harrington come over. Nearly every single fucking night and suddenly he is also there in the mornings. Hopper wonders if he is ever leaving or if he just has three kids now.

But Billy is laughing more and doesn‘t flinch whenever Hopper comes into the room.

So Hopper‘s rage subsides.

One morning, Hopper walks in on them making chocolate pancakes in the kitchen.

”Hey Jim!“ Billy shouts and then turns his back on him to kiss a bit of chocolate from Steve‘s lips.

Hopper can‘t hide his grin. He is fucking proud of that kid

- and bit of himself, for staying patient.

[harringroveera]

Steve: What time is it?

Billy: I don't know, Bambi. Pass me that saxophone and we'll find out

Billy: *plays the saxophone loudly and extremely out of tune*

Jim: WHO THE HELL IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING?

Billy: It's 2am

[ghost-wysteria]

Bruce: y/n, vance, finney, you guys have to stop joking about your trauma!

Blake!Y/N, Vance & finney: what are you gonna do? Tell our moms?

Billy: guys- no-

[lostlimerence]

Safe

CW: abuse, past SA implied, injuries, self-hatred/self-worth issues.

Billy stands on the porch, fist clenching a napkin that’s been inked messily with directions - his house to Hopper’s cabin. They’re meant to be driven, but Billy has walked, or more accurately limped, the three mile route.

Now he’s made it, he just needs to knock.

Which, apparently, is easier said than done, cause he’s been standing on the mother-fucking top step for at least ten minutes and he can’t seem to do a goddamn thing. Just knock for fucks sake, he begs his aching body, but the adrenaline from the beating is still spiking his system, mixing with the anxiety sitting in his stomach, a concoction that’s rendering him motionless.

He’s still warring with himself when the hall light flickers to life, illuminating Hopper’s silhouette as he moves to open the door. Instinctually Billy steps back, wincing as his injured foot takes too much weight. Hopper steps out and grunts “hey kid,” eyes scanning as he mentally catalogues any visible injuries. Billy grimaces, he knows he looks like shit, can taste the dried blood from his split lip, feel the throb behind his left eye, the pulse of his swollen foot. He dregs up a grin, tries for casual “hey old man,” there’s a beat of silence before Hopper is turning back into the light, leaving the door open, waving at Billy to follow, so he does.

Hopper’s cabin has a warmth that settles deep within Billy’s bones, he flexes his fingers, focusing on the blood tingling in his fingertips as he hovers awkwardly in the living room. Hopper rustles about in a cupboard for a while before producing a worn first aid kit with a triumphant “aha.” He brings it over, gesturing at the sofa furthest from the TV “sit over there kid.” Billy sinks into it, Hopper sits opposite, then leans over to pass him the kit, Billy accepts it, thankful that the man is giving him some space. The idea of having someone so large looming over him right now sets his nerves on edge, and besides he’s a dab hand at patching himself up.

He flicks the clasps open, locates the antiseptic wipes and starts pressing them to the various wounds littering his body. Mentally, he braces himself for the questioning the Chief is very clearly trying to work himself up to.

Sure enough, the man takes a deep breath and leans forward slightly as he says “so, you gonna tell me what happened?”

Billy feels his hackles rise instinctually, he’s so tired of this charade, the new adult in his life who says ‘what happened Billy?’ who, when he proceeds to tell them, either fucks off because this is ‘too much for them to handle’ or tells him to ‘stop telling such nasty lies’ says that ‘he doesn’t deserve to have such a kind, patient man like Neil Hargrove as his father.’ He doesn’t think he can handle it again, but a tiny part of him, a very tiny part, is sparking with the hope that maybe this one will listen.

So he bites back the snide remark primed in his throat and instead looks Hopper dead in the eye and tells him the simple truth “my dad beat the crap outta me.” Silence hangs as he starts examining his foot, he prods hard at the tender, swollen flesh of his ankle, wincing slightly, then chances a glance at the chief, attempting to gauge his reaction.

The man looks furious.

Billy can see it, the silent, overwhelming wave of anger, the kind that boils below the surface of the skin and spreads to every fibre of a persons being.

Billy can see it, has seen it so many times before, barely contained, about to blow. Shit, he hates himself for letting that spark live.

Fuck. He thinks fast, this man is a cop, he’s handled plenty in his life. He knows what they like.

Submit, he slides off the sofa sinking onto his knees.

Defuse, he bows his head and mumbles “sorry sir.”

Deflect, he bites his lip, keeps his head lowered, tries for seductive, though it comes out a little shaky “ I’ll do anything you want me to.” braves another look up at the man and freezes.

Hopper’s eyes are now wide with shock, and there’s a new sheen to them as he presses his fingertips hard into the corners.

It’s been less than a minute but Billy feels like he’s lived several lifetimes. He’s at a loss.

When the man speaks he does it, carefully and slowly, “Billy,” his voice sounds heavy, like it’s been dampened with tears, “I need you to get up kid.” Billy listens, awkwardly manoeuvres himself back onto the sofa, and waits.

Hopper takes a shaky breath, makes sure to catch Billy’s eyes as he says gently, “Billy, never, never offer yourself to someone like that. I need you to know, you’re safe here and that I would never do anything to hurt you, you understand that?” Billy holds his gaze as he mumbles “yeah.”

It’s unconvincing enough that Hopper keeps going, clearly not satisfied with the response, “Billy, why…what was it…what did I do that made you think, you needed to do that?” Billy doesn’t think he can explain it too well so he just says “you were angry when I told you my dad did it, I could tell and I just know how to handle cops,” Hopper looks like he’s going to be sick.

“I was angry, not at you, but at your dad, I’m sorry, I should’ve tried to keep my reaction under control kid, especially given the circumstances,” Hopper sighs for what feels like the hundredth time, and Billy is so unbelievably confused that all he can do is nod accepting an apology he is not used to being given.

The man pushes on, clears his throat “and you know how to handle cops?” Billy feels heat rising to his cheeks, embarrassment and shame wash over him, he tries to explain “you know, they think I’m pretty, like my mouth nd’ stuff,” Hopper’s white knuckling the sofa as he responds “Billy you’re eighteen,” and that gets his back up a bit, so he spits “yea I’m fucking legal” he bears his teeth, but immediately feels awful as Hopper looks devastated,“barely Billy, and I’m over double your age, how old were you when you learnt ‘how to handle cops’?” Billy shrinks back at the question, both wants and doesn’t want to say, but decides to try for the truth “I dunno fifteen maybe, it’s not a big deal, I’m good at it,” Hopper looks like his heart is being pierced with each and every word that leaves Billy’s mouth, “it’s a big deal kid, those cops should be behind bars, you were, hell you still are a child, I’m sorry they took advantage of you like that,” and Billy can feel his mask cracking because no one has ever put it that way before, he can feel the press of tears behind his eyes, he tries to blink them back.

Hopper silently offers a tissue and looks at the clock above the Tv, “Billy, it’s late, you’re tired and you’re injured. You need sleep. But tomorrow morning I’m clearing my schedule and we are going to talk through all of this. Your dad and the cops and we are going to discuss potential prosecution” he holds up a hand to prevent Billy’s immediate protest “it’s not something for now Billy, we both need clear heads, I’ll grab you a towel you can clean up and head to bed ok?” Billy nods, doesn’t really trust himself to speak so he gets up and starts to head in the direction Hopper had indicated.

“And kid,” Billy stops “the spare room has a lock, on the inside,” a sharp spike of joy leaps in his gut, he nods, tries to keep his tears of relief from falling as he goes to clean up.

Later, he lies in bed staring at the lock bolted shut on the door and tries to get used to this new feeling. The feeling of being in a home that is warm and quiet, with someone who seems to care about him.

Tries to get used to feeling safe.

[writer-in-theory]

Piece By Piece

Summary: When Max calls for Hopper’s help one night, everything changes. Prompt: C1 - Jim Hopper as Billy’s Dad Pairing: Billy Hargrove & Jim Hopper, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Rating: Teen Word Count: 3.3k Content Warnings: Child Abuse (Neil Hargrove is a piece of shit) Read On AO3: here A/N: This is my fifth fill for @billyhargrovebingo !! As always, huge thanks to @serenity-lattes and @lcvingprentjss for beta-ing and for coming up with the title. 

Billy Hargrove Bingo Masterlist

It was the middle of the night when Jim Hopper got the call.

When he’d given his phone number to everyone involved in the Upside Down business, he’d never actually expected anyone to need it. After all, the kids seemed to want to handle trouble on their own (as irritatingly dangerous as that was) and the teens weren’t likely to want to lean on the chief of police for help after he’d busted half of them for underage drinking at parties at least once before. His phone number had always been intended to be a failsafe, a way for them to contact him when shit had already gone down and they’d gotten themselves into trouble trying to fix it. 

Yet, at 2:38 in the morning on February 7th, 1985, Max Mayfield called Jim Hopper. He’d only met the girl briefly back in November—back then mostly distracted by the exorcism they were performing on Will Byers and the sudden reappearance of his magical daughter—but even then Jim would’ve described her as a spitfire. She never let any of the guys bother her and was never one to be overspoken and ignored. She was fearless in a way that not many adults were, and Jim could say he was thankful she and his daughter became such good friends if only because he knew she would look out for El. 

On the phone that night, however, she sounded like an entirely different person. The girl’s voice shook and she sounded breathless with fear. The instant she said that she needed his help, that her brother needed his help, Jim took off out of the house. Jim drove down the country roads at speeds he would never have dared touch before, because if fucking monsters from another world couldn’t strike that kind of fear in her then what could?

There weren’t too many police calls that would stick in Jim’s head forever, but that one would.

I think Neil’s gonna really kill Billy this time, Hopper. 

Even from outside, he could hear the shouting, eerily reminiscent of his own father’s voice. As Jim stepped up to the house, one hand over the gun on his hip, he had to remind himself that the old bastard had been dead for years. Good fucking riddance. Neil Hargrove wasn’t dead though and was instead seemingly trying to give his son that very fate Jim had avoided by signing up for the military straight after school. Jim had seen some fathers give warning smacks to their kids when they spoke out and had even told himself once or twice that the kid had probably done something to warrant it, but never before had he seen this kind of anger directed against a kid before. 

Jim Hopper wanted to kill Neil Hargrove. If he thought there was a way to get away with it, he might have considered it due to the amount of suffering he’d put his own son through that night. Billy was on the ground of the living room, knees tucked up to his chest and arms bent over his head to protect the most vulnerable parts of his body, not trying to fight back or defend himself despite his clear ability to fight based on how the Harrington boy had looked after that night in November. Neil was over him, a belt abandoned beside his ankle as he rained fists down over the boy. 

Jim nearly saw red at the sight—the cruel merciless grin Neil wore as he watched Billy lay there, practically responseless to the violence. 

“This is the Chief of Police, get on your goddamn knees!” Jim shouted, actually pulling the gun into his grasp when the other man seemed to consider his next moves for a second. “On your knees, Neil!”

It was nearly impossible to remain strictly professional after. If Neil had a few extra bruises by the time Powell and Callahan got there, then neither mentioned it.  Sure, it happened in the takedown. How did it feel, Neil, to be as vulnerable and powerless as you made your son? They did offer (or require) that they handle Neil from then on whether for Jim’s sake or Neil’s, leaving Jim to deal with the aftermath at the house on Cherry Lane.

The wife, Susan, had grabbed Max and gone outside, sobbing about how terrifying the experience had been. Max was yelling at her for not trying to stop it, and while the whole thing made Jim sick to his stomach he could almost understand why she didn’t put herself in front of those fists. It was clear Neil had been in a blind rage and was capable of literal murder if he’d had enough time. It wasn’t right, leaving the poor kid to deal with that kind of rage alone, but survival instincts were strange in even the best of conditions. 

The kid, Billy, had picked himself up by then, pointedly staring at his socked feet instead of at Jim. The image of him now was a far cry from the delinquent teenager who already had a number of speeding warnings and noise complaints from the music in his car. He could see the words in Billy’s file flashing up at him now: attitude, trouble with authority, flight risk. It made horrible sense now, seeing what nightmare he had to deal with at home. The kid didn’t even look surprised, more so closed-off, like he’d purposefully numbed himself to what was happening. 

Jim had to shake his head to clear it from the pictures of his own high school days when he’d used rebellion as a way to cover up all of the goddamn hurt. Far too many people had failed this kid already, leaving him to deal with this mess alone, but Jim knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—add his name to that list. 

“C’mon, kid, we gotta get you checked out at the hospital,” Jim said, trying to look anywhere but at the bruised boy if only to spare him some dignity. “I’ll drive you.”

“I’m not going to a hospital,” Billy spoke then, voice harsh but eyes still downcast, focused on a red stain in the carpet that Jim was trying hard to avoid. 

“You’re pretty banged up, it’s the safe thing to do.”

“Never needed it before,” Billy fought again, the words searing into Jim’s brain and pulling out a wince. It was clear that this kind of route was going to go nowhere then. 

And maybe it was crazy but—

“Alright, but you can’t stay here. We gotta secure the scene.” Did they? Either way, Susan was taking Max to stay with a friend of theirs, and there was no way Billy could recover from this alone. “Come back to mine. I got a first aid kit and a safe place to land.”

“I don’t need your help, Sir,” Billy pushed back, but the moment he tried to walk back down a long hallway of doors—bedrooms?—he stumbled, catching himself with a hand on the wall. 

“C’mon, kid. At least let me get you somewhere safe. You got somewhere else in mind, tell me and I’ll drive you,” Jim tried again, willing his voice softer than he thought he could ever make it. 

Under any other circumstances, it’s clear Billy would’ve fought harder. Now, though, he looked worn down to the bone and like he might collapse if he had to stay on his feet any longer. So he just shrugged and walked to the front door, pulling on his boots and moving to stand by the passenger side of Jim’s car. 

The ride was awkward, to say the least. It felt a little like a bomb was tied to the roof of the car, threatening to detonate if either of them dared break the silence. Billy sat on the edge of his seat, pressed as far against the window as possible, arms around his middle like he was holding himself in. Even as they pulled up to the cabin (which, admittedly may not look like the safest place out in the middle of the woods), Billy held onto himself. He didn’t get out of the car until Jim did, following him into the cabin and standing in the middle like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“The first aid kit is in the bathroom on the left. If you need help—”

“I’ve got it,” Billy snapped, not unlike an injured animal biting the person who helps them because they’re cornered. 

The kid found the bathroom okay, shutting and locking the door, leaving Jim to get the bedroom set up with fresh sheets, and leaving some sweatpants and a t-shirt that could pass for pajamas folded on the bed. Jim’s back already hurt at the thought of sleeping in his armchair for the night, but it was worth it to ensure the kid had a safe place to land after such a horrific night.

Billy didn’t come out for another two hours, and when he did he went right to the bedroom, eyes watching Jim the whole way. When Jim didn’t move or say anything—he remembered this feeling too well, knew the wrong thing could set the kid’s recovery back years—Billy closed the bedroom door, disappearing behind that too.

Jim sighed and settled into the armchair for the night, already knowing he wouldn’t be getting any sleep. Instead, he watched TV at low volume and listened out for any sign that either of the kids in his house was having a nightmare. 

In the morning, before the sun was even up, footsteps woke Jim up. They were quiet, feather-light, and if it weren’t for his years in the military Jim might have missed them. When he turned around, Billy was standing by the front door, a hand gripped around the handle.

“You don’t have to go,” Jim offered, already knowing how this would end. Someone like Billy wouldn’t trust him immediately, as frustrating as it was. “There’s plenty of space if you need somewhere to land.”

“I don’t,” Billy answered, eyes watching the front door. “I’m not a fucking charity case.”

In moments Billy yanked open the door and hurried out, slamming it behind him. 

Trouble with authority. Flight risk.

Maybe it was better to let him go, to let Billy reach out for help when he was ready for it. Jim didn’t really know how to do any of this and had never really been given an instruction manual on how to help out lost kids, but he did know that letting Billy leave in the middle of winter was a bad idea.

“Billy,” Jim called, jogging down the dirt driveway to catch up with the kid. “Hey, I know you’re not a charity case, alright? But where are you gonna go?”

“I have a car,” Billy told him like that solved everything.

“This isn’t like California, you’ll freeze to death tonight if you sleep in that thing.” Jim involuntarily shivered at the thought of the kid actually spending the night out here alone in this kind of weather, Jim already freezing after just a few minutes exposed to it. “I’m not saying you have to stay forever, but look, kid—”

“Stop calling me that, I’m not a kid.”

“Until you’re 18, you are,” Jim corrected, rolling his eyes at the kid’s attitude. It was obvious now what it was—a defense mechanism, the prickled pines of a porcupine meant to keep others at a distance—but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. “Billy, look. I don’t beg often, but please stay here until you have somewhere safe to land.”

Billy watched him for a moment, expression still guarded but at least not running away. Then, finally, he sighed. “You’re really not gonna give up, are you?”

“Not likely.”

Billy nodded then and followed Jim back into the house. It felt like a major victory, even though Jim knew there was still a long road ahead of them.

Billy stayed mostly distant for a week. 

Most of his time in the cabin was spent in his bedroom, door closed and not a sound emitting from the other side of it until it was time for dinner. El asked after him often, saying she could feel him hurting, but Jim couldn’t force him to socialize with them. He didn’t want to act even a little like Neil lest the kid never trusts him, so he trod lightly. He’d at least asked Jim if he could stay, stating that there wasn’t anywhere else in town he could go. He just needed until he graduated, Billy had said, as if Jim could ever kick him out so soon.

It was Steve Harrington who changed everything. 

Jim had never liked the Harrington boy, if only because he was the spitting image of Robert Harrington. He’d even acted just like him too—right down to the annual birthday party that nearly the entire Hawkins High population attended and usually resulted in several noise complaints from the other residents of Loch Nora. As far as Jim was concerned, the kid was arrogant, self-centered, and entitled in a way that no person should ever get to be.

The kids begged to differ, as they all liked to remind him whenever they saw El. Jim knew the kid had saved them on more than one occasion, but it was hard to reconcile that idea with who he knew the kid to be.

That self-centered, entitled teenager didn’t exist now, that much was clear just from the panic and determination on his face when he stood outside of Jim’s cabin.

“Where’s Billy?” Harrington demanded the second Jim opened the door.

Jim raised an eyebrow at the lack of greeting, wondering what could have the kid so panicked. Had Billy tried to pick another fight with him? Had Steve?

“Look, Harrington, he’s not h—”

“Bullshit!” Harrington shouted, then at least looked embarrassed as he added, “Uh, sir.”

When Jim didn’t say anything, the kid continued. “I know he’s here. I need to see him.”

“Nope, sorry, kid,” Jim answered, already starting to shut the door. Harrington was relentless though, throwing himself between the frame and the door to stop its movement. “You’re not starting a fight here.”

“I’m not—” Harrington started, cutting himself off and running a hand swiftly through his hair. “C’mon, Hop, I really need to see him.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, please.” Jim didn’t want to. He would never have trusted a Harrington with anything, much less the hurt boy he was sheltering. But Steve looked earnest now, brown eyes wide and pleading in a way that was quickly melting down whatever defenses Jim had constructed.

“He’s in his bedroom, first door on the left,” Jim relented, moving out of the way as Steve practically sprinted into the cabin. 

Steve knocked once, announcing it was him. Within seconds the door was opening, Billy flashing Jim a nervous look before Steve stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

And, well, Jim didn’t mean to listen in, he really didn’t. The thing was, the walls of the cabin were shoddily built and wildly thin, and it wasn’t like either boy was exactly trying to keep their voice low. Even so, Jim could only pick up bits and pieces of their conversation while he sat in his armchair, TV volume up in a lame attempt at giving them privacy.

“Are you okay? What happened? Did....”

“He found out, about this. Us. He....”

“Shit. What...”

“...here at this fuckin’ cabin in the woods.”

“...Could stay with me if...”

“Your parents, Stevie. I can’t...”

“...love...”

Oh, shit. 

Jim mashed the power button on the TV, mind racing with every thought that one word conjured in him. Love. Were Billy and the Harrington boy together? Was that why Neil had nearly killed his own son that night? Jim supposed it made sense, also explaining why Billy was still distrusting him. And yeah, it was a weird thought. Jim didn’t have any experience dealing with anything like this, but both boys were good kids and surely that meant all of this was okay too? It was just love, in the same way that he and Joyce were tip-toeing around each other. It was as simple as that. 

He walked over to the bedroom door, knocking against it twice with one knuckle on a finger. “Hey, kid?”

There was scrambling behind the door for a few seconds before Billy opened it, not making direct eye contact with Jim.

“I was gonna order pizza for dinner, what do you and Harrington like?” Jim asked, mentally wincing at the surprised look on Billy’s face. Did he really think Jim would respond badly to clearly overhearing all of this?

“Uh, whatever’s fine, sir,” Billy answered quickly, glancing back at where Steve was standing beside the bed, idly looking around the room like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Jim asked Billy, nodding his head toward the front door. Billy looked back at Steve one more time before following Jim, sitting down on the front step of the cabin.

“I can be out of here tonight,” Billy stated the second they sat down, pulling a startled grunt from Jim. “I just need to make a bag and—”

“What? I’m not kicking you out, kid. I meant it when I said you have a place here,” Jim told him. “I just need to know. You and Harrington. Is that why...?”

“Dad beat the shit outta me? Yeah,” Billy scoffed, wrapping his arms around his knees. “He went digging in my stuff and found a picture we’d taken together. You’re really not freaked out?”

“I won’t lie and say I know what I’m doing, but as long as you’re both happy, I’m all for it,” Jim responded, pulling out a cigarette and holding the box out for Billy. 

“Wait, really?”

“I’m not gonna kick you out because you found someone to love,” Jim returned, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ll be a part of this ragtag little family as long as you like. I mean it, Billy.”

It was silent for a long time after that. Jim didn’t really mind, leaving Billy to sit with his thoughts while they both burned through their cigarettes. It was only when Jim was stomping his out that Billy spoke up again, voice quieter than he’d ever heard it before.

“Thanks. I...thanks.”

It wasn’t many words, but Jim could hear through it. He could hear how hard it was for Billy to say, could hear the slight strangle around the words from the emotions the kid had forced back. He heard how much the offer meant, even when Billy had never made it clear before. 

None of this would be easy. Jim was learning as he went, and he suspected there was still a lot to learn about being a guardian for someone as hurt as Billy. It would be a long road ahead, but Jim was ready to drive it so long as Billy had the chance to recover in ways Jim had never gotten. 

“C’mon, let’s go get dinner for El and Harrington,” Jim finally said, standing up and digging his keys out of his jeans pocket. “Oh, and Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“If Harrington really is something to you, I have one rule in the house. Keep the door three inches open when he’s over.”

Billy grinned for the first time since Jim got that phone call, and it felt like the best victory Jim would ever have.