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

10. The Halloween Party, P2

Billy was uncharacteristically tired of partying, and it wasn't even midnight.

Leaning against the wall of the living room, he took a long drag on his cigarette and watched the half-dressed girls and overambitious guys romp around in their alcohol-induced craze that may or may not have been a form of dancing. At this point, at least half the party was wasted, so any type of action had gone from semi-normal teenage stupidity to absolutely wasted shit.

For Billy, who could hold his alcohol very well, the scene was pitiful. Even the party-hard jocks were plastered, and most had only downed three or four beers. Not that he was immune to the keg that he had chugged – he could feel the buzz deep in his skull; his vision was off and his thoughts were a little contorted, but he was so used to the feeling that ignoring it was second nature.

They didn't call him Keg King for nothing.

Still, he hated the laughing, the stumbling, the stupid behavior that followed the scent of body odor and alcohol. It was barely midnight on Halloween, and already half the people there could barely remember their own names. Even Tina was laying somewhere past out, which had put a damper on Billy's after-party plans. And without her on his arm, he'd become easy bait for Carol, who had tried to pull a few moves on him. Admittedly, he had let things go a little further with her than he had originally intended. Mostly it had been a tease — he wanted to spark some heat, then leave her hanging just for the hell of it. And it had worked well enough, but now there was no Tina and no Carol. And with Michael and Ryan off somewhere with their own conquests, there really wasn't much else to occupy him.

Letting his cigarette rest between his lips, he watched the chaos unfold around him numbly. A few times Harrington past through his line of sight, disappearing into the crowd of dancers and reappearing on the other side of the house. Wheeler had long since vanished, probably puking in the bathroom or trying to find a ride home, so whatever it was that Harrington was looking for Billy didn't know and didn't care.

If he didn't hate his dad so much, he might have considered going home. But home wasn't really home at this point in his life; he had a roof over his head and food when he was there, and it was a place to crash when he was sick of driving around, but he had no emotional attachment to it, or the people in it. Especially not his dad.

The thought made his stomach twist. He was supposed to have been home by eleven, and it was now going on twelve. He was very, very late. And his dad hated when he was late.

Billy pulled his cigarette from his mouth, exhaled. He noticed that Harrington had stopped his frantic searching and was now staring at the ceiling with his hands on his hips. He licked his lips and mumbled something to himself, and Billy took another draw, blew it into the space in front of him, clouding Harrington.

Billy snorted to himself.

Asshat, he thought mockingly, taking another deep inhale. Just go home already.

When the smoke dissipated, Harrington was no longer staring at the ceiling. He was scanning the room in what looked like a last-ditch effort to find whatever it was he was looking for, and when his gaze came to rest on Billy, he froze. Their eyes locked.

For one steely moment, Billy thought he was finally going to get the fight he'd been craving since the first moment he stepped into Hawkins High. There was a frigid distaste that passed between them, and Harrington stiffened as Billy pinched his cigarette and pulled it from his mouth. But the moment was over before Billy could even digest the change, and Harrington was suddenly looking at him like he had just found the answer to a very, very big problem.

And Billy didn't like that at all.

Without warning, Harrington lunged. Billy, startled, dropped his cigarette, but before he could even get his fists up, Harrington had grabbed hold of both his shoulders and was holding him at arms length with a grip of steel.