Work Text:
Working the late shift in Family Video is not how Steve envisioned he’d be spending New Years Eve.
Ever since Nancy broke things off and Steve dropped Tommy and Carol, parties have lost their former appeal. Steve’s not sad enough to slum it with the kids and attempt to play D&D. Not sad enough to get drunk alone on his couch and watch the ball drop, either. Might as well make a little extra cash.
It’s virtually dead, Steve knew it would be. Only time the late shift is ever busy is Christmas Eve, Halloween and the day before Thanksgiving. Still, it’s emptier than usual. Just the odd lonely straggler every forty minutes or so. Steve’s mostly reading The Bourne Identity, eyes flickering up to the muted news every time he starts a new chapter.
The bell above the door rings at around 11:50. Steve doesn’t look up, just keeps reading. If you give the late ones too much eye contact they hang around and try to talk. Steve’s not interested.
It’s pretty quiet beyond the odd turn of the page and muffled shuffling of boots on carpet. Steve un-mutes the tv, listens to Dick Clark prattle over the tinny cheers from Times Square on ABC.
A stack of empty cases is dropped on the counter.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Harrington.”
Steve looks up from his book, is greeted by the sight of Billy Hargrove. Huh.
“You’re not the only one,” Steve replies.
He turns the cases, reads the titles on the spines. Raiders of The Lost Ark, The Temple of Doom, and surprisingly, The Goonies.
Steve grabs the cases and heads into the back for the videos, leaves the door open.
“Real Indiana Jones fan, huh?” Steve calls.
“What about it?”
“Nothin’, nothin’. Just making conversation.”
“I prefer not to shout my conversations,”
“Fair enough,” Steve says to himself as he shuts one the many copies of The Goonies into its case. He walks back out, kicks the door shut behind him, places the stack of movies on the counter and rings Billy up.
“You don’t want any snacks?”
“Got food at home,”
“Alright. That’ll be ten bucks,”
“You’re shitting me,” Steve points at the bright yellow cardboard sign propped further along the counter. 3 Movies for 1 week, just $10! Limited time only. “Huh. Woulda come in sooner if I’d known, you should put fliers up in town or something.”
Steve shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s work.”
Billy rifles through his wallet, counts out his change. “Glad to see the great establishment that is Family Video has dedicated workers like you championing the business.”
Steve snorts, scoops the money off the counter and into his palm, starts dropping coins into their assorted slots in the register. “Oh yeah, they really lucked out the day I started.”
Steve grabs a bag from under the counter, shakes it out. Billy waves him off. “I don’t need a bag, dude. Car’s like, right outside.”
“No one ever needs a bag but they always want a bag,”
“I’m good,” Billy stacks the videos against his hip, turns for the door. “See ya next year.” The bell above the door chimes again as it’s pulled open. Steve glances up at the countdown clock on the tv. 11:57:36.
Steve calls out before he can think better of it. “Billy?” Billy turns, one eyebrow raised. “Do you, uh…do you wanna watch the ball drop with me?”
Billy shrugs. “Sure, why not.” Steve tells himself the excitement at Billy’s answer is down to quelled loneliness and not the fact that it’s Billy Hargrove spending New Years with him.
“Awesome!” Billy looks a little surprised at his enthusiasm. Steve opens the little door on the counter, grabs two cups and heads for the Slush machine. “You want one?”
“Do I have to pay?”
“Nah. You a red or blue man?”
“Can I get a half and half?”
“Oooh, fancy.”
Billy snorts. “Hardly.”
Steve brings the cups back over to the counter, drops in the spoon straws. Billy digs a flask out of one of his inner pockets and spikes his. Steve stops him before he can screw on the cap. “Can I get some of that?”
Billy hands it over. “Knock yourself out.”
Steve knocks it back instead of pouring it into his slushie. Only coughs a little. Billy doesn’t comment, just raises his eyebrows over his cup.
They don’t talk, instead they watch the news and (Steve eats, Billy drinks) their slush in amicable silence. Steve looks over at Billy as the countdown starts, watches him mouth the numbers, feels something warm in his chest when turns and smiles at him with less teeth than usual.
“Happy New Year, Harrington.”
Steve returns it. “Happy New Year, Hargrove.”
Billy picks up the videos again, juggles his slush and keys. “What time do you finish?”
“Now, actually.”
“What’re you doing the rest of the night?”
“Sleeping,”
“Your parents out of town again?”
“Uh huh,”
Billy presses his lips together, jerks his head towards the door. “I have some good pot, Byers came through last minute. I could come over, we can get stoned and watch Indiana Jones.”
Steve wants nothing more than to scream yes then sprint out of the store and hop in Billy’s Camaro. Instead he tamps down the excitement, shrugs like it’s not the best way Steve can think to start the new year. “I guess.”
Billy grins. “Awesome.” He tosses his keys in the air like he always does, catches them and heads for the car. Steve’s not far behind.