The Neighbor's Cat (Billy Hargrove x OC // Stranger Things)

6. Going Soft

Billy wasn't sure how he felt when he went to start his Camaro the next morning and found Peters leaning against the side of it with her bag sitting at her feet. She was bundled up, arms wrapped around herself, and her cheeks were a bright red from the cold.

Obviously she had been waiting there a while.

She glanced up at him with a half-dazed look as he approached, and he paused, hands on his hips to give her an appraising look.

"Well, well. If it isn't the dipshit," he said. "I see you took my advice."

She shrugged, but her expression was sheepish.

"Guess I didn't want you to dragging me into your car," she said, wrinkling her nose. "That would have been kind of weird."

The thought of that going down was a little disturbing in his mind. A guy dragging a girl into a car probably wouldn't look so good from the outside — funny as hell, definitely, but not good.

Still, it hadn't really occurred to Billy if he had actually meant his words. When he said them, they were meant to be more of a threat than anything. But he suddenly found himself wondering if he would have really dragged her into his car, or if he would have simply shrugged her off and went on his way.

Exhaling, Billy threw open his door, slid inside, and stuffed the key into the ignition. He heard the passenger door open and watched as Peters slid the seat forward.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It's for Max," she said, as if his question was stupid. "Not gonna make her climb all over the place to get in."

Sure enough, Max stomped out of the house a minute later. Her skateboard was tucked under her arm as usual, her red hair flat and as unimpressive as ever in its appearance. She stopped when she saw Peters standing there, and her eyes flickered to him.

"Uh..." she trailed. "Who's this?"

"Randy," Peters introduced promptly, sticking out her hand. "But you can call me Andy. Everyone else does. Except for Fabio here," she indicated to Billy, who was pulling out a cigarette. "He just calls me dipshit. And unfortunately for us, we'll both be passengers in this death trap with him."

No better introduction could have been made. Max smiled for the first time in front of Billy since their first-time meeting. She took Peters' hand, looking more pleasant than he had seen her look in two years.

An irritation swelled in him at the sight, and he stuffed his hand into his pocket to snag his lighter.

"Alright, you two shits," he snapped around his cigarette, flicking his lighter to life. "Get in or you're both walking. Don't got time for your formalities."

Max's small offer of life disappeared immediately, and the irritation in Billy deflated just the slightest. She climbed behind the seat and settled into the back, and Peters shoved her place back into its rightful position and got in.

"Alright, Billy Wonder," she muttered, holding her bag in her lap. "Try not to kill us."

Billy didn't bother to answer. He shook his head, turned up the radio, then shoved the gear into reverse.

Ratt's Round and Round swelled in the cabin as he sped down the road, and he reclined in his seat. Other than the music and the growl of the engine, it was silent. No one spoke. Not Max, not Peters.

In fact, Peters was unusually quiet. It wasn't a bad thing, not for Billy, but he would be lying if he said it didn't weird him out. She usually had something stupid to say or some comment to make, but just as always, she was unreadable, unpredictable, and completely indifferent to his presence.