#they're channeling benoit blanc's pool loungewear

[neonponders]

Part 8 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🌹🌹

~ Part 7 + ART!!! ~

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy could not claim to have ever hung out at the Harrington residence. He had moved to Hawkins after Steve removed his crown and all interest in being Hawkins’ party king.

So the circumstances of walking into Steve’s house with two voices yell-singing out of a shoebox were not what Billy would have expected.

“Okay, little dudes. It’s food time,” Steve announced on his way to the kitchen.

Robin collapsed right onto the couch and turned the television on. Unsure what else to do with himself, Billy sat on the loveseat adjacent to the other couch. Then he asked, “Is it a good idea to have them in the kitchen?”

Robin answered, “They like having tasks. Little B, especially. Getting him to sit still is like a magic trick.”

Her gaze swept up with Billy standing to join Steve in the kitchen. “You antsy?”

He smiled venomously. “I think it’s rational to not trust anyone with a mini me.”

Her eyes rolled but her voice remained understanding. “If anyone’s capable of taking care of those little guys, it’s Steve. But by all means,” and she waved him away.

Billy navigated around the island counter to find his smaller self and the matching Steve standing on the pages of a cookbook. Larger Steve seemed to be trying and failing to sell them on mushrooms.

“It’s gway, Steve,” little Billy scolded over crossed arms. “Who wants gway food?”

“You don’t even notice it when it’s deep fried and covered in tomato sauce,” Steve reasoned, but the little ones moved out of his way to let him turn the page.

Large Billy leaned an elbow on the counter as they scrutinized the tomatoes stuffed with rice. “You’ll have better luck with that. Or Mexican food.”

Little Billy gazed up at him. “What’s Meckwican?”

“It’s colorful.”

“I like colwors.”

“I thought you might,” Billy confirmed with a smirk to Steve. “Who’s ordering?”

Steve took a deep breath and pushed off the counter to grab the collection of paper restaurant menus shoved between the refrigerator and the toaster. “Rob, what do you want?”

“Chicken sopes and a taco salad.”

“I’m not buying you two meals.”

“The salad is for tomorrow,” she reasoned.

“One bean burrito, coming right up,” Steve sassed, but his attention on the menu drifted up to little Steve and Billy climbing over the apples and pears in the fruit bowl like boulders. “Could you teach them how to swim?”

Big Billy’s eyes swung to him. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got an old Barbie swimming pool - don’t look at me like that. Will you do it or not? It would save me the risk of a heart attack whenever they need a bath.”

Billy tipped his head to the side, not sparing Steve even a little bit. “What were you doing with Barbies, Steve?”

“This might not be relatable since you’re used to the ocean, but for a long time, I was the pool guy. The pool’s always been my ticket to making friends...or so I thought. Whatever. One summer, the only neighbor kids I had around me were girls. So I got a pool for their dolls. Are you a swimming instructor or not?”

Billy sighed and looked at his smaller self sitting on a pear like it were a horse and taking bites out of it. “I can get them started.”

Steve ordered their food and disappeared for a few minutes to get the small swimming pool out of storage. He cleaned it off in the sink, filled it with warm water, and Billy marveled, “You know, I would’ve said we could just use a casserole dish, but the slide and stairs are smart.”

Little Steve’s face lifted up to him, a blush making his cheeks go rosy as he smiled. “Smarwt Stevie.”

Big Steve waved some bathing suits in the air. “Are we skinny dipping or do you wanna change clothes?”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get those? The sixties?”

Steve exhaled heavily. “We may or may not have a small doll collection, so what?”

“That’s such a rich people thing.”

“Yeah, well, they deserve a change of clothes and this is one less thing I have to explain to my mom when she looks at my card statements. Okay, B and Steve. Do you want the oranges or the flowers?”

He held up the swimming costumes for them to see and decide. All of a sudden, small Billy looked bashful as he tucked his chin and rolled his lips. Steve, meanwhile, hopped off the fruit bowl and pointed. “ ‘Wanges! Can I? Oh...Biwwy? Do you want the ‘wanges?”

He rubbed his tummy and admitted, “I want the fwowers.”

Large Billy’s brows pinched a little but he stayed quiet as big Steve encouraged, “You want the flowers one? That’s okay. It goes with your eyes.”

His lashes batted as he blinked up at him. “Weally?”

“Yeah,” Steve encouraged, “and they’re the same size. You can switch the next time you go swimming.”

Billy reached up for his swimsuit and they went to change in their shoebox. The larger Billy wondered aloud, “They have a sense of privacy?”

Steve shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see themselves first before us.”

When they emerged, Steve spooned water over the slide. The little ones climbed the ladder and went down it together as if they rode a sled instead of a slide. The pool was shallow enough for them to stand, providing big Steve the relief he needed to answer the door. Robin followed behind him to help carry the bags, and they set up their feast on the island counter.

Billy had to use his Rec Center ID card as a floating board, but it fit both of them length-wise as they practiced their kicks. “Good job, guys. How about another ride on the slide while I get my food.”

Steve only just got a dishtowel down so they didn’t slip on their way around the pool. Robin passed Billy his bag and he held a nacho chip out for the little ones to take a bite at the top of the slide.

Big Steve scolded, “Aren’t you supposed to wait thirty minutes between swimming and eating or something?”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Billy disregarded, crunching loudly on his chips. “Swimming 101 is just getting comfortable in the water. So...isn’t this supposed to be a movie night?”

“Movwie! Movwie! Movwie!” the little Steve and Billy chanted, thoroughly locked in chasing each other down the slide and back around.

Big Steve nodded over his burrito. “When they start to slow down...then the movie seals the deal.”

Billy snorted softly and kept providing a nacho station for them to run past. Eventually, the exercise and food did take their toll, and they collapsed on the dishtowel. Given their old school, linen swimsuits, they dried off pretty fast, but little Steve eventually sat up and started patting Billy’s hair. The larger Billy observed this as the smaller one whined a tired sound.

“Biwwy, don’t get sick.”

“I won’ get sick. That’s what Stevie’s always sayin’.”

However, big Steve seconded with a restaurant napkin in hand. “Gimme those ears.”

Little Billy sat up in a huff, but sat still for Steve to gently push the napkin against his ears to siphon the water out of them. Then he folded it to get into the nooks and crannies of his ears and jaw. “Thank you, B. Okay, you next.”

That rosy hue filled little Billy’s cheeks as he mumbled a weak, “You’rwe wewlcome.”

Little Steve, meanwhile, stood up tall, blissful in his pampering. “Stevie? Can we have the honey tea?”

“ ‘Course you can. Go with Billy to the coffee table. He and Rob will get the movie going.”

It was little Steve’s turn to blossom a pink hue as they climbed onto Billy’s palms. They planted their butts down and held onto each other as Billy magic carpeted them to the setup of plushies on the coffee table. Small Steve gingerly stepped off his hand with a bashful, “Thankwou, Biwwy.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered quietly - 

Only to glare at Robin, who sat on the couch behind him. “You’re allowed to like them. I won’t spill.”

Small Billy lingered on the hand as he exclaimed, “Spiww what?”

She segued smoothly, “Won’t spill that we got Indiana Jones to watch. That is, if it’s not too scary.”

Billy finally got off the hand with a scoff. “Scawy? We watched the wed buwll and that wasn’t scawy.”

Little Steve perked up from the fluff of an otter. “It was a wittle scawy.”

“We can fast forward through the scary parts,” Robin promised, and slotted the VHS into the player. But as soon as she turned back around, her eyes widened. “Uh oh.”

“I knew it!” cried Billy from the doll box that had been placed on the coffee table. Little Billy climbed out, grinning victoriously with the tiny whip in hand and the hat on his head. “I’m weady!”

Robin glanced up at Steve in the kitchen, too busy trying to mix a safe temperature of water and honey together. “Uh, B? Can I talk to you about that - No no nonono...”

“Hey! Wobin? What gives?” little Billy exclaimed when she pinched the whip to keep him from waving it around.

“B, I’m sorry, but Steve doesn’t want you to have that.”

“Well Stevie can kiss my ass!”

That got a rankled Steve to come out of his otter plush. “Biwwy. Be nice.”

Robin corralled, “Billy, these things are use to hurt people. They’re not toys. You’ll see that in the movie.”

The fire started to go out of those blue eyes. “Hurwt peopwle?”

She nodded gravely. “We know you won’t mean to, but the whip might hurt your Steve. Even worse, you’re more likely to hurt yourself. That’s just how whips are. Big Steve loves you too much to tell you.”

His little body deflated as the large Steve finally arrived with a shot glass of honey tea. Seeing the body language on the coffee table, he sent inquiring looks to Billy and Robin.

Little Billy replied sadly, “Does Indiana Jwones hurt himself?”

“No, but it’s a movie, sweet B. It’s not real. You’re real and your Steve’s real. That’s way cooler than Indiana Jones.”

Big Steve sank onto the couch next to Billy. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on, is that I’m not sure I like being sweet talked by proxy.”

Finding that unhelpful, Steve leaned forward to intercept. “Hey? Little man? Are you okay?”

Little Billy was absolutely not okay, because his bottom lip pushed up, his eyes went big, and he dropped the whip in order to run into Steve’s hands. Steve glared at Robin and mouthed, What did you do?

I handled it, she replied, dropping the whip back into the box.

Little Steve dragged his otter across the table, or as much as he could with stuff in his way. “Stevie! Helwp!”

“Okay, okay, come here,” he soothed, picking up all three so small Billy and Steve could cuddle together against the soft fur while being held in big Steve’s arms. Little Billy bawled his eyes out during the opening of the movie, warranting big Steve to peek at the large Hargrove next to him. “It’s kind of wild how much their little bodies can hold onto. I thought you’d have stepped in by now.”

However, Billy’s mouth had been set in a hard line for a while now, and he shook his head. “I’m out of my element here, man.”

“No crying kids at your pool?”

“I put shit heads in line. Beyond that, it’s the parents who cause more issues.”

Robin leaned across her armrest to query, “Steve, I thought you were lifeguard certified? You really were the pool guy for years, after all.”

“Sure, but I think they like having Billy around.”

“I wike having big Biwwy awround.”

They looked down at little Steve, who was practically lying on top of small Billy, who blinked sometimes at the movie, but otherwise seemed too tired to really watch it.

“Biwwy does too. I know it. Biwwy wants to be stwong, like big Biwwy.”

But Billy shook his head. “I’m not the kind of guy to look up to, Harrington.”

Big Steve absorbed that in silence. For all of the Hawkins’ renowned lifeguard’s peacocking, Billy had never said anything like that before.

“Then wook down to us. My Biwwy’s smarwt, and nice,” little Steve smiled and finished, “Hawgwove.”

For a brief moment, Billy lost control of his face and his features crumpled, his eyes glossing over as his brows furrowed together. But he got a hand over his mouth, scrubbing his features clean. “Just watch the movie, short stack. He’ll feel better after he sleeps.”