Work Text:
The natural state of Chief Jim Hopper’s cabin is chaos. Billy is fighting a steep uphill battle against the order of the universe every time he tries to clean it.
For one thing, the place is tiny. It was barely enough space for a grown man and his teenage daughter. Since Billy has officially moved in, things have become cramped. Like. Billy has been basically living there for a year anyway, but then it came time to renew his lease. It was dumb to keep paying for a bedroom in a shared apartment he rarely slept in. Actually moving, though, meant moving his stuff. Billy doesn’t have a lot in the way of worldly possessions. Most of it is still in his car, because there’s nowhere else to make it fit. It’s been two weeks. Hop keeps saying they’re gonna have a big spring cleaning. But then on his day off, he just wants to sit on the couch, and drink beer, and have Billy bounce on his dick. Billy likes bouncing on Hop’s dick. That’s not the point.
The point is, now that Billy lives here, the mess has become his mess. Like. A switch flipped and he can’t tune it out in the name of getting off and not rocking the boat. There’s a limit to how much disorganization he can tolerate without losing his mind and they’ve butted right up against it.
“No sex until we go through all the junk you’ve accumulated and throw most of it out.” Billy feels ridiculous. Standing in front of the kitchen sink, swatting Hop’s hands away from his hips while he tries to do dishes.
Like. He’s become a housewife. It’s not even a joke anymore. He can’t control the impulses towards strict cleanliness that were drilled into him at such a young age. Bed made every morning. Clothes folded or hung. Nothing on the floor. A place for everything and everything in its place. His dad would do inspections while Billy stood at attention by the door, and if anything was deemed not up to snuff. Well. His dad was a military-grade asshole.
“Aw, c’mon, baby.” Hop kisses his neck. The bristles of his beard make Billy squirm. It tickles in the good way. “We can do it this weekend, I promise.”
“You’ve said that twice already.”
“We really will. Saturday. It’s all yours. We’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good. I’m still not fucking you right now.”
“El’s gonna be at the movies for another hour at least,” Hop practically whines.
It’s both annoying and endearing that Hop won’t do anything nasty when his kid is home. Except sometimes in the shower. With music on. Like that’s somehow subtle.
“That’s nice. If you want to be helpful you could go put your dirty clothes in the hamper. Because I saw you just toss them on the ground.”
“You know. I’m impressed,” Hop sighs.
“Why’s that?”
“I thought that certainly, shacking up with a man half my age would mean I escaped dating my mother. And yet. You’ve overcome the odds.”
“Shut up. You’re just a slob.”
“Amazing! You sound like my ex-wife, too!”
“Have you ever considered that maybe everyone else is right?”
Hop grumbles. But he does wander off and leave Billy to the dishes. They end up on the couch, having beers and watching TV by the time El gets home.
Billy is pleased when they head for bed and there are no clothes on the floor. Maybe he gives Hop and extra enthusiastic goodnight kiss. Which leads to them grinding against each other under the covers, thrusting into Hop’s spit-slick hand. Billy’s bad at being quiet. He can’t help moaning against Hop’s neck when he comes.
Hop is bad at being quiet too. Especially when Billy slides down and gets his mouth around Hop’s dick. Hop tries to muffle the groan in the crook of his elbow as he comes down Billy’s throat. It’s a mixed success at best.
***
El keeps her mess confined to her room, so Billy doesn’t bother inviting her to the cleaning party. The peace between them is tenuous anyway. She’s about as tolerant of his presence as you’d expect a girl fresh off her sweet sixteen to be. She’s icy in most interactions but doesn’t actively make his life more difficult. She doesn’t want to be friendly. Billy gets it. He never liked Neil’s girlfriends and he resented them even more if they put on a fake nice act.
On Saturday, El’s out the door and on her bike as soon as she finishes her pop tart. She’s not Billy’s kid. So he keeps himself from saying something about the fact that she seems to subsist on shitty snack food and frozen waffles. Even though it bothers him. He cooked breakfast. He cooks breakfast every morning. Today he made a protein scramble, with eggs, turkey sausage, spinach, tomatoes and mushrooms. He’s a certified personal trainer so a healthy diet is important to him.
He does make Hopper eat whatever he cooks. Left to his own devices, the guy lives off boxed kraft macaroni, donuts, and fast food. Hop complains about the lack of bacon and pancakes. Sliced grapefruit instead of pastries. But they always sit at the table in the mornings and have their breakfast together. Billy drinks black coffee while Hop pours a bunch of cream and sugar into his. They don’t usually talk a whole lot, since Hop isn’t awake until after his second dose of caffeine. It’s still nice.
Billy starts off the adventure in the kitchen. He’s got boxes. He opens all the cabinets and starts tossing things in. Hop just looks at him. Drinking his third cup of coffee.
There are all sorts of gems. Expired Fruit Loops. Instant Mashed Potatoes from 1975. A tin of mixed nuts–from the same year. Billy is prepared for the MRE’s to be a fight, but Hop doesn’t stop him. They are probably still fine. Billy just hates looking at them. His dad used to keep them around.
“Hey wait a minute!” Hop actually stands up as Billy throws a hunk of metal into the box with a dull clang.
“Why do you need a broken toaster?”
“I’m gonna fix it.”
“We have a toaster that works.”
“Why can’t we have two toasters?”
“Because there’s no counter space.”
They also don’t need two blenders. They don’t need three dull carrot peelers. They don’t need the plastic forks that Hop has been washing and putting back in the drawer like they’re real silverware.
Billy fills up a whole box of junk and stale food and drags it out onto the porch. Next he goes through the refrigerator. He buys his own groceries and they stay on the top shelf. Everything else is pretty much unusable. He gets rid of all the half-empty condiments that have been there as long as he’s been coming over. He tosses the pathetically wilted vegetables. The eggs that have been hiding behind a bloated milk carton—both of which smell awful. He takes everything out and scrubs the shelves with rubber gloves on.
“Is it really that bad?” Hop is still just kind of hovering.
“I refuse to dignify that with an actual response. Go clean the bathroom.”
Hop does. Billy takes a screwdriver and a hammer to the freezer to chip all the ice out. He puts all the freezer burned TV dinners in the trash. He doesn’t want to know how long they’ve been there. He knows he’s never seen Hop eat one. He’s not sure if that’s good or bad.
By the time Billy gets to the living room, Hop is done with the bathroom. So he just follows Billy around nervously. Billy doesn’t touch the novels, or all the cassette tapes of Grateful Dead shows that Hop has crammed onto the bookshelf. Or well. He dusts them, and the shelves, but then he puts them back.
The cold case files are another thing. There are so many of them. Billy makes Hop carry every single one out to the cruiser and put them in the trunk. That clears enough space for Billy’s record player and collection. Hop can’t articulate why he has years worth of old magazines and newspapers piled around. So he relents after mumbling something about scrapbooking and lets Billy toss them.
Billy sweeps, and mops, and wipes down every sticky surface. He folds the blankets strewn on the couch. Hop vacuums the crum-littered throw rug under the coffee table and dusts all his knicknacks. They’re left with a space that will actually be nice to sit in, rather than a dumpy den full of eyesores. Billy’s gonna replace the threadbare throw pillows at some point. Probably also the couch and the creaky easychair. Honestly, he’s going to get rid of all the furniture and find some nicer stuff that matches instead of the current hodgepodge that looks like it was inherited from a grandparent. That’s gonna be a gradual process. Provided they stay here. Maybe someday he’ll be able to convince Hop that living in an actual house with more than three rooms would be nice. They’re already a twenty-year-old and a forty-five-year-old who spend all their time together. It’s clear what’s going on, even if nobody’s gonna say it out loud. Moving into a neighborhood instead of hiding in the woods isn’t gonna make it more obvious than it already is.
Billy knows that Hop won’t move to California. He’s made peace with it. Even if he hates the Indiana winters, Hawkins has grown on him. It’s quiet. He’s got friends. Heather, Tommy, Carol, and Nicole. Hell, he’s even on pretty good terms with Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers these days. Nancy Wheeler still doesn’t like him, but whatever. He’s got a more solid social circle than he ever managed to make when Neil was moving them around at least once a year. He’s never experienced stability before. It’s not awful.
Then, comes the part Billy’s been dreading. The bedroom. He starts off with the easy stuff. He hasn’t really interrogated why Hop has hung onto his ex-wife’s jewelry and even some of her clothes. Like. It’s a thing he could throw a jealous fit about. He wouldn’t be crazy to find it weird and upsetting, by any means. He chooses to believe it’s just that Hop is a sloppy disaster, rather than a heartbroken disaster. His ex lives in another state now anyway. If Hop’s carrying a torch for anybody, it’s Joyce Byers. Luckily, Joyce is a reasonable woman who already has two sons and doesn’t seem to want a third man baby to take care of. So Billy’s not that worried about it.
Hop isn’t upset about getting rid of the dresses and heels. Billy puts them in a suitcase he’s gonna take to Goodwill. It’s some nice stuff. Somebody will appreciate it. The jewelry goes in a tupperware for Max and El to root through. What they don’t want, Billy will offer to Heather next time they meet up for dinner. The remnants, will also get donated.
No more avoiding it. Billy reaches for the first of three big plastic tubs in that line the bottom of the closet. He hears the mattress creak as Hop sinks down onto it. Then the clink of metal as a flask unscrews.
“You OK?” Billy asks. The tub is out in the open, but the lid is still on. This is going to be hard. They both know it.
“Yep.” Hop takes a swig of whiskey.
“If you don’t wanna do this, I get it. I’m not gonna force you to throw any of it out.”
“It’s time.”
Billy pulls the lid off. This tub is mostly full of crayon drawings. Kindergarten worksheets. Storybooks. He piles the books with the stuff for goodwill, except for Goodnight Moon. The pages are covered in scribbles. It was apparently Sara’s favorite. The school work can go. Hop only wants to keep a couple drawings. They’re labeled Daddy and Me . Just two stick figures holding hands under sunshine. Billy’s chest feels tight. Hop seems to have finished most of his flask. He goes for a beer.
The second tub is mostly clothes. Fluffy dresses, shiny pink shoes, even baby clothes. Hop just says, “donate it” and lights a cigarette.
The third tub is stuffed animals and photographs. Billy takes all the photo albums and carries them out to the living room to put on the top shelf. When he comes back, Hop is holding a stuffed unicorn. It’s white, with scraggly pink hair, black button eyes and a horn made of shiny gold material. There are places where the body fur has been rubbed down to the bare cloth.
Hop is crying.
Billy sits on the bed next to him. Puts an arm around his waist. Rests his cheek on Hop’s shoulder.
“Miss Glitter.” Hop’s voice is thick. “Sara always wanted a pony. I got her this instead. Said it was just until we could build a stable out back. Kids’ll believe anything.”
“Yeah. They’re tiny idiots. I used to tell Max all sorts of crazy shit and she’d take it at face value.” Billy kisses Hop’s neck. “Where do you want to put Miss Glitter?”
“Maybe uh… maybe on the dresser?”
Billy takes the stuffed animal and places it on top of the old wooden dresser, next to the framed picture of him and Hop on a fishing trip in Hoosier National Forest. Billy is sunburnt and Hop is wearing a stupid Boonie hat. The old lady they convinced to snap the photo said it was so nice to see families spending quality time together. People always assume Billy is Hop’s kid. It makes Hop grumpy. Billy thinks it’s hilarious. He’d never been fishing, or even camping, before. He spent most of the trip super stoned and didn’t catch anything. Hop got a lot of trout, which he cooked in tin foil over the campfire.
It was kind of romantic. Roasting marshmallows under the stars. Sharing two sleeping bags zipped together. The sex was loud and dirty. The fishing excursions are now a thing they do a few times during the summer.
Hop says to get rid of the other stuffed animals.
Billy carries everything they want to donate out to his car. Then he carries his clothes back into the house, because there are now places to put them in the dresser and the closet. He leaves all the junk out in boxes on the porch to be taken to the dump. It might be a couple trips. He’ll deal with it tomorrow.
Hop is drunk, sprawled out on the bed. Billy climbs on top of him. He likes lying on Hop’s soft belly, tucking his face against Hop’s neck.
“Well. We cleaned the house. You happy?” Hop wraps his arms around Billy’s waist, squeezes him.
“Very. Are you?”
“I’m tired.” He grouses. He kisses Billy on the cheek. “You’re lucky your cute.”
“You’re lucky you have a nice dick.”
Hop laughs a little. Billy nuzzles him. He figures probably Hop’s too fucked up to do much right now. Also it’s not really the right mood. There’s still a lingering heaviness, even if some of the tension has broken.
Billy doesn’t say the word love very often. Hearing it also makes him somewhat uncomfortable. He’s always felt like it was a burden people foisted on him. Girls trying to rein him in and trap him with it. Distant family members beating him over the head with it and expecting to hear it in return at holidays when they obviously didn’t care about what happened to him any other day of the year. His mom said it. Then she left.
Right now, though. Hop needs it. And Billy does feel it. He feels it in his bones when he wakes up first and Hop’s still snoring. He feels it when he’s buzzed, and giggly, and Hop scoops him off the couch to carry him to bed.
“I love you,” Billy murmurs.
“Love you too, baby.”