#jim is Billy’s new dad it’s literally stuck in my brain

[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.

[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.

[lostlimerence]

Promise

Cw: allusions to past SA, past abuse, Billy’s low self-esteem/self-worth issues, homophobic slur

“Where are you going?”

Billy grabs his car keys, looping them once around his finger as he turns towards Jim. He’s dressed in the tightest white tank Jim thinks he’s ever seen, a thick chain hangs around his neck and his legs are clad in black leather pants that might as well be spray painted on.

His face is defiant as he raises an eyebrow and says “out,” with a little cock of his head, a self-satisfied grin appearing at his lips.

In for one and out for two, Jim thinks, whilst willing his non-existent gods to give him strength, “yeah no shit kid, you know I mean a location.”

Billy looks like he’s weighing up whether to tell the truth or not, and Jim thinks he’s got a pretty good handle on him because he swears he can pinpoint the exact moment the kid decides to lie.

Grin fading, Billy says as casually as ever “just to a gig with Harrington and Munson,” a lie that rolls perfectly off his tongue. Jim hates how well the kid has had to learn to master the skill and if Jim hadn’t started to become accustomed to calling him out on it then he’s sure this would’ve been the end of the conversation.

But being the parent of one of Hawkins’s resident monster battling squad meant not only did he have his newly developed Billy intuition but he also had the ‘squad schedule’ memorised and he knows that tonight is some big Dnr? DD? Dnd? Tournament which means there’s no way Munson is anywhere other than at Steve’s house, and if the kids are at Steve’s there’s also no way he isn’t there too, the ever-present, ever-diligent, affectionately labelled babysitter.

So Jim tries, as ever, to tread carefully when he says “I think you might be a little mixed up there kid, I know for a fact they’re both at Harringtons tonight. Where are you going?”

The reply is immediate,“why the fuck do you want to know old man!?” it’s the reaction he’s expecting, and Jim knows this is gonna get messy cause when Billy gets defensive he also gets mean.

Jim goes to respond but Billy cuts in first with a sneer “oh, I know you like what you see don’t you? Fifty bucks officer and I’ll give you a blowie,” his voice drops suggestively as he trails off, opening his mouth a little, tongue tracing his lower lip in an obscene display. Jim’s gut clenches, performs a sickening twist, unfortunately he’s getting used to this pattern, this zero to one hundred, so he’s used to reminding himself, don’t rise to it remember, he’s just a scared boy with his back up.

In for one and out for two, his exhale is hard “you know that’s not, and never will be the case kid, I just want to know you’re gonna be safe,” Billy’s hand tightens hard around his keys at the word safe and Jim knows he still finds this comprehension hard. This idea that people care for him, that no one wants anything from him in return and it’s heartbreaking to see him test this safety in his own destructive way. He tests Jim the most, which with his history Jim gets because on paper he’s all of Billy’s abusers rolled into one horrifying monster, and that’s why he’s so patient with the kid, hell he’s more patient with him than he has been with anyone in his life, El included.

Billy seems to give a little, accepting that Jim hadn’t taken the bait, and raised the confrontation into some sort of screaming match. His eyes flick briefly to meet Jim’s before confidently stating “the Crown,” unconsciously squaring his stance, anticipating the reaction the name would get.

Jim can’t help the protective, automatic, loud “No,” that leaves his mouth, it brings Billy’s sneer right back “what you can’t handle me being a fag?” he growls “you know that’s not why Billy!” Jim says firmly, he’s getting louder, he knows he should tone it down, but the panic rising in his body is pushing itself into his voice, “the youngest people there are my age Billy and you know a few people have been vanishing in that area, I’ve told you about it!” he slaps his hand to his chest, partially to emphasise his point, partially to try and temper the panic punching his heart.

“Yeah and I’ll be fine, I can fight real well old man and I can fuck whoever I want!” he spits fight and fuck like they’re the same goddamn thing, and Jim doesn’t want to think about how interlinked the two acts may be when it comes to the kids past, but what he can blatantly see right now is that Billy is looking to hurt, not anyone else, just himself. The kid’s vibrating with something, desperately trying to hold himself steady.

Jim’s voice is cracking with a little anger now “Billy you’re not going,” he stands firm, doesn’t step towards the kid but doesn’t step back either. Billy looks ready to break, and Jim knows this can’t really be about going to the Crown because if he’d really wanted to he’d have turned his back and ran to the car by now, Jim isn’t that quick and Billy knows it. He sighs looks the kid dead in the eye and just says “Billy what’s going on here? What are we doing?”

Billy is knocked by the question, he looks devastatingly confused, his brow is furrowed and there’s a sheen to his eyes that suggests he really doesn’t know why he’s pushing like this. Jim watches him struggle for an answer, “I don’t know, it’s just…I don’t understand, I can’t, I know you won’t hit me, but it’s almost like…” he takes a breath “it’s almost like I want you to, like I’m waiting for something that will never happen and it’s just I dunno, the waiting is just building all up inside me, and it’s not going anywhere and I feel so…” his voice is cracking and tears are tracking his cheeks, Jim holds up a hand, doesn’t want the kid to have to keep pushing, he thinks he gets it.

“When I was in the prison,” Billy gasps at this, Jim isn’t surprised, he rarely shares these parts of himself, but the kid has shown him such raw emotion, such vulnerability that he feels he can share just a bit. He starts up again “When I was in the prison, and the anger built up, anger at the monotony, the pain, the loss, at everything. I would work myself so hard, to complete exhaustion, and that helped me sometimes.”

Billy looks a little bemused, but the tears have stopped “so I should what, break rocks when I feel like this?” Jim chuckles “nah, I’m not gonna get you to go break rocks kid, why don’t we go on a run? Go change, I will too and we’ll try and shake that feeling you’ve got off ok?” Billy nods, placing the keys back on the counter, bending to unlace his black boots, “And this isn’t a fix Billy we need to figure something proper out, let me think on it but let’s just see if we can help you short term, see if it makes you feel any better right now.”

Jim’s heart rate is coming down as Billy moves to remove his other boot, but he can’t stop himself saying “and Billy, please, please promise me you won’t go to the Crown, you know, you know why I didn’t want you to, don’t want you to go.”

Billy nods again “yeah Hop, I know,” and he sounds exhausted already, Jim thinks maybe the run won’t be so long. He feels such a strong need for reassurance, for confirmation that this kid, who’s wriggled past his defences and taken up another little section of his heart, will not go and put himself in danger that he pushes one last time “Billy, look at me please,” and Billy does, his still watery blues locking onto him “promise?”

Billy nods “promise.”