Tommy was not someone who was fond of the cold. It was a powers thing, but it was more than that. There was something isolating about the cold. About being alone and distant from the things that were good and warm in the world. It made his heart ache, his hands sore, and his legs scream for activity.
Winter in Hawkins seemed to continue well into March, which was frustrating for Tommy. He’d never lived so far from the ocean, which apparently made winters a bit more mild. And when it got bad back there, he’d just head down to Florida for a few days, enjoy the sun and the sand and the relative quiet that came with snowbirds.
That wasn’t an option when he was here in a holding pattern.
The trailer rarely ever felt truly warm. In fact, Tommy was losing his mind with the chill. He’d been to the second hand store not once, but three separate times to get himself more blankets. His bed had turned into something more like a mound, and Tommy was currently curled up in it, enjoying a rare day off when he wasn’t expecting to need to trail Billy because he’d apparently been grounded over the weekend. Which was a good thing.
For the first time in several years, Tommy had a head cold, and he was so miserable that he was genuinely considering summoning his brother for help. Because, if nothing else, Tommy was a fussy guy when he was sick. And he’d already eaten himself out of just about everything he had stored in the trailer too. Stupid illness making him weaker and needing more food.
The only real comfort he had beyond the warmth and the occasional phoned in pizza was the other small thing he’d bought at the local second hand shop. Even now he was curled up under his blankets for warmth, cranking a small wooden box in his hands. Once he had wound to his satisfaction he opened it up to listen to the music. The tune had long since grown familiar to him, but the words? The melody made him think of what he wanted most now.
You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray.
Knocking on the door broke Tommy out of his revere. He lifts his head and glares at it. No one really knows him well enough to swing by beyond the delivery guy. Wasn’t like he was being noisy either, so it wasn’t the neighbors.
“Go away,” he said weakly, his stuffy nose actually making his voice sound weird and whiny.
Or maybe he was just whining.
The knocking didn’t stop. If anything, it grew a bit more demanding. Enough so that Tommy grumbled as he closed the music box and threw back the blankets. His feet were shoved into some stupid fuzzy slippers he’d found on sale at Melvalds (probably because the neon orange color had not appealed to people) and shuffled to the door.
“What?” he demanded as he threw the door open.
Only to face Billy Hargrove, fist poised to start pounding all over again.
“You’re not Munson.”
Ah. Right. Eddie lived a trailer over, didn’t he? Parked the van between their places, so he could see why there would be some confusion.
“Bingo,” Tommy agreed, and the word seemed to make Billy wince. Something on his face just said ‘ah, you’re sick’.
“You look like shit.”
And apparently the guy needed to say it. Tommy just groaned, half in annoyance, half because of the fact that it was true. Plus maybe an extra, secret third half that was over the cold because fuck, the door was still open and could it just not be that?
“Munsons are in the next trailer,” he grumbled. “When you see him, let him know I’ve got an errand he can run for some cash.”
Eddie probably wouldn’t be at all upset to make a bit of cash doing a grocery run for him. Because fuck, Tommy needed more calories in him and soon.
“What sort of errand?”
Okay, not the response he was expecting, but not one he’d turn away. He realized that Billy could benefit from the exchange just as much as Eddie could. Plus it would be an excuse to have just a few minutes where he existed in Billy’s eyes.
“Grocery run. Sick and I don’t wanna go. Got a list and cast, and I’d be paying him twenty for it.”
A lot of money to be throwing around on so simple of an errand but Tommy didn’t want to go out in the cold when he was sick. And you know what, it made Billy look pretty interested. Alright then.
“Come inside if we’re gonna talk, okay?”
When he backed away from the door Billy hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind him. Once that was done the kid started looking around. Go figure. Tommy wanted to smile, wanted to let himself be overwhelmed by the relief that came with having Billy in his space.
Instead he moves to the dining room table, grabs his notepad and starts writing a list.
“You really paying someone to go pick up your groceries?”
“Pretty common where I’m from,” he says. “Used to do some work like that.”
Of course it was more door dash than anything else, but you did what you did to get by.
“Frankly, I hate driving in the winter, and I hate driving sick even more. So I don’t care who does it, provided it gets done.”
He catches sight of Billy looking through the place, wonders just what he thinks of it. There’s no pictures here, no personal touches to make things more homey. This was utilitarian at its best, and as Tommy thinks about it, from an impersonal perspective, he realizes that maybe it’s just a little pathetic. Or a lot pathetic. Completely pathetic.
“Here,” he says, holding the paper out. “I’ve got to fetch my wallet. Wait here.”
Billy only nods, taking the paper as Tommy gets up and shuffles off to the bedroom.
“This is a lot of shit,” the guy calls after him. Which, of course, Tommy knows. He needs a lot of food to keep going most days. It’s worse when he’s sick. “Seems pretty unreasonable. I’ll be out for a while getting this.”
“Fair enough. If you don’t want to do it, pass it over to Munson and tell him to come over here for the cash.”
Tommy scoops his wallet up from the dresser and pulls out some money, only to turn around and find Billy just, well, right there. Right fucking there. In the moment Tommy looks at him and takes it all in. The rosy cheeks, the red tip of his nose, and of course the way he looks bundled up against the cold.
At least it’s not a Temba winter, my California Dream.
That’s just too affectionate, he knows, and so Tommy pushes on past it.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, why the hell not,” Billy says with a shrug. “Call it my good deed for the day.”
More like the month. Tommy snorts and hands the money over.
“Don’t know, Hargrove, you might actually just be a nice person from time to time.”
“Don’t count on it. I could always just run off with your money.”
“You really going to do that to a sick guy? Cruel. I’ll wither away and die because you can’t handle one good deed. And then who will make sure you get your burgers the way you like them at the diner?”
That gives Billy pause. Maybe he hadn’t really been thinking about why the food he got at the diner was sometimes better than other times. The simple answer is that when you know a guy long enough, you learn their tastes. And in Billy’s case he knew just what was right.
“Whatever man,” Billy says as he turns away.
“Just drop it all at the door and knock to let me know it’s there. I’ll leave the twenty in the mailbox.”
Billy nods and heads back for the main room and the front door. That leaves Tommy to curl up under his blankets again, opening the music box once he was properly cocooned up.
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Thankfully, an hour later, there was a knock at the door and soon the Camaro was driving off. But there was food waiting for him and his change. Honorable little punk.
Please don’t take my Sunshine away.
- - - - -
Thankfully the winter didn’t linger too much longer. That didn’t mean that it was shorts and t-shirt weather right away. It was still nice to have the ice off of the ground, the risk of illness gone, and the slightly longer days. There were plenty of parties starting up among the high schoolers who were glad to just be free of the winter. As for Tommy, well, he took advantage of the light warmth for something else entirely.
The nights were finally just barely warm enough to be tolerable in nothing more than a sweater and a coat, even late at night. Which was why Tommy was here tonight, at the quarry. Here it was, coming up on one in the morning, and Tommy laid out on the roof of his clunker, staring up at the sky.
There were just so many fucking stars out there.
It was almost peaceful. Almost. Because of course he couldn’t get a moment of peace. There was a noise, ripping through the chill night air like a fucking crime. An engine. Too loud of one by half, and Tommy wanted to scream in frustration because he might go mad from not only it, but the implication that someone was showing up to interrupt his night. Probably a sheriff’s deputy. They could be particularly annoying with the ‘we’re watching you, outsider’ vibe.
He lifted his head just enough to turn his gaze toward the approaching vehicle lights, and…
The Camaro. Huh. He hadn’t expected that.
The car pulled up beside Tommy’s own, the engine soon turning off. There was no real movement in the car though. Well, there was, mostly a moving shape that he knew was Billy. And at this hour of night it was probably only Billy. Then the flicker of firelight, a lighter probably. Which Tommy supposed explained Billy’s presence. This was a means to get smoking, away from where his dad could catch him. Or maybe he was just out for some other reason. Maybe he was out because…
It’s not his business, even if he wants it to be. More than anything Tommy wants to go right over there, haul the door open, and pull Billy into his arms. To tell him that he’d never let the guy hurt again, that he’d break Neil if he even looked at Billy.
Instead he turned his eyes back toward the stars and tried to ignore the other car.
That lasted all of three minutes before he heard the door of the Camaro open. Tommy did his best to keep his eyes to himself, because he knew if he looked at Billy, if he found what he expected, keeping his cool would not be possible. And he’d never be forgiven for that.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks, eyes staring up into the stars.
How many nights had they spent on the beach, looking up at them? How many long trips on the ships, looking out when there was nothing between them and the feeling of being small and insignificant? How many moments with fingers tangled together and secret smiles and whispered dreams?
“Sleep’s for the weak,” Billy answers, and his voice sounds…
Well, Tommy doesn’t have a point of comparison other than to say it sounded wrong. The tone stuck in his craw and made him want to scream. Made him want to find Cherry Lane and break a skull in. Instead he kept his eyes respectfully to the sky.
“Guess you’re not wrong,” he says with a shrug. “At least the night’s beautiful.”
That earned a scoff, and before Bily could say something silly Tommy snorted in amusement.
“Yeah yeah, it’s not like California. No fucing duh. Not like Jersey either. You get the sunsets, we got the sunrises. And these yokels? They get the fucking stars.”
That earned a thoughtful hum, and Tommy could just barely pick out the scent of the Marlboro Reds.
“So then, Jersey, why’d you ever come here?”
“Why does anyone ever come to Hawkins?”
Because your asshole father finds out that you’ve been with a guy and decides to take you somewhere that he thinks will hate you for it as much as he does. Tommy knows. But he can’t tell Billy that.
“That’s my fucking question,” Billy said with a weak laugh. “So? Why did you?”
Well, that’s a simple one, and he could even be sort of honest about it.
“Hawkins isn’t the end goal. It’s a stop on a journey. A way to get somewhere I need to go.”
He stays silent, hoping that’s enough. But of course he should know better. Billy isn’t the sort to just leave that quiet hanging when he was curious about something.
“And where are you going?”
Making my way back to you.
“Home,” he says. “But it’s not a place. It’s… a person. Got a bit lost on the way, needed some time and some funds, so for now, I’m waiting. Waiting for a sign that it’s time.”
The words are met with a scoff of disbelief. Makes sense. Tommy’s pretty sure he doesn’t really believe in things like that. Of course he doesn’t know that even this version of Earth is so far from ‘normal’ that it’s just scary. So Tommy can’t blame him.
“Laugh if you want, but I’m sure it’s coming. My sign.”
He knows how it’s going to happen. Doesn’t know much more than that. A giant monster in the streets, Billy not being himself, and loud noises. Very loud noises. Whatever it was that made Billy flinch at New Tick fireworks.
“Whatever you say man. Good luck I guess. What’ll you do when you find them?”
Tommy smiles.
“Give fate a middle finger.”
This time he wins laughter, loud and boisterous and like he’s just carried Billy off into the night at high speed.
For now it’s enough. Enough for both of them perhaps, because Billy doesn’t ask anything more, and Tommy doesn’t tell him. He gives it maybe twenty minutes before he climbs back into his car and heads for home. Not because he wants to be back in that too quiet trailer, alone and empty and heartbreaking.
No, he leaves because Billy clearly needs this space, and he’s going to give the guy what he needs first and foremost. It’s the only thing he can give right now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
March, 1985
Date: 2023-09-23 11:12 pm (UTC)Tommy was not someone who was fond of the cold. It was a powers thing, but it was more than that. There was something isolating about the cold. About being alone and distant from the things that were good and warm in the world. It made his heart ache, his hands sore, and his legs scream for activity.
Winter in Hawkins seemed to continue well into March, which was frustrating for Tommy. He’d never lived so far from the ocean, which apparently made winters a bit more mild. And when it got bad back there, he’d just head down to Florida for a few days, enjoy the sun and the sand and the relative quiet that came with snowbirds.
That wasn’t an option when he was here in a holding pattern.
The trailer rarely ever felt truly warm. In fact, Tommy was losing his mind with the chill. He’d been to the second hand store not once, but three separate times to get himself more blankets. His bed had turned into something more like a mound, and Tommy was currently curled up in it, enjoying a rare day off when he wasn’t expecting to need to trail Billy because he’d apparently been grounded over the weekend. Which was a good thing.
For the first time in several years, Tommy had a head cold, and he was so miserable that he was genuinely considering summoning his brother for help. Because, if nothing else, Tommy was a fussy guy when he was sick. And he’d already eaten himself out of just about everything he had stored in the trailer too. Stupid illness making him weaker and needing more food.
The only real comfort he had beyond the warmth and the occasional phoned in pizza was the other small thing he’d bought at the local second hand shop. Even now he was curled up under his blankets for warmth, cranking a small wooden box in his hands. Once he had wound to his satisfaction he opened it up to listen to the music. The tune had long since grown familiar to him, but the words? The melody made him think of what he wanted most now.
You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray.
Knocking on the door broke Tommy out of his revere. He lifts his head and glares at it. No one really knows him well enough to swing by beyond the delivery guy. Wasn’t like he was being noisy either, so it wasn’t the neighbors.
“Go away,” he said weakly, his stuffy nose actually making his voice sound weird and whiny.
Or maybe he was just whining.
The knocking didn’t stop. If anything, it grew a bit more demanding. Enough so that Tommy grumbled as he closed the music box and threw back the blankets. His feet were shoved into some stupid fuzzy slippers he’d found on sale at Melvalds (probably because the neon orange color had not appealed to people) and shuffled to the door.
“What?” he demanded as he threw the door open.
Only to face Billy Hargrove, fist poised to start pounding all over again.
“You’re not Munson.”
Ah. Right. Eddie lived a trailer over, didn’t he? Parked the van between their places, so he could see why there would be some confusion.
“Bingo,” Tommy agreed, and the word seemed to make Billy wince. Something on his face just said ‘ah, you’re sick’.
“You look like shit.”
And apparently the guy needed to say it. Tommy just groaned, half in annoyance, half because of the fact that it was true. Plus maybe an extra, secret third half that was over the cold because fuck, the door was still open and could it just not be that?
“Munsons are in the next trailer,” he grumbled. “When you see him, let him know I’ve got an errand he can run for some cash.”
Eddie probably wouldn’t be at all upset to make a bit of cash doing a grocery run for him. Because fuck, Tommy needed more calories in him and soon.
“What sort of errand?”
Okay, not the response he was expecting, but not one he’d turn away. He realized that Billy could benefit from the exchange just as much as Eddie could. Plus it would be an excuse to have just a few minutes where he existed in Billy’s eyes.
“Grocery run. Sick and I don’t wanna go. Got a list and cast, and I’d be paying him twenty for it.”
A lot of money to be throwing around on so simple of an errand but Tommy didn’t want to go out in the cold when he was sick. And you know what, it made Billy look pretty interested. Alright then.
“Come inside if we’re gonna talk, okay?”
When he backed away from the door Billy hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind him. Once that was done the kid started looking around. Go figure. Tommy wanted to smile, wanted to let himself be overwhelmed by the relief that came with having Billy in his space.
Instead he moves to the dining room table, grabs his notepad and starts writing a list.
“You really paying someone to go pick up your groceries?”
“Pretty common where I’m from,” he says. “Used to do some work like that.”
Of course it was more door dash than anything else, but you did what you did to get by.
“Frankly, I hate driving in the winter, and I hate driving sick even more. So I don’t care who does it, provided it gets done.”
He catches sight of Billy looking through the place, wonders just what he thinks of it. There’s no pictures here, no personal touches to make things more homey. This was utilitarian at its best, and as Tommy thinks about it, from an impersonal perspective, he realizes that maybe it’s just a little pathetic. Or a lot pathetic. Completely pathetic.
“Here,” he says, holding the paper out. “I’ve got to fetch my wallet. Wait here.”
Billy only nods, taking the paper as Tommy gets up and shuffles off to the bedroom.
“This is a lot of shit,” the guy calls after him. Which, of course, Tommy knows. He needs a lot of food to keep going most days. It’s worse when he’s sick. “Seems pretty unreasonable. I’ll be out for a while getting this.”
“Fair enough. If you don’t want to do it, pass it over to Munson and tell him to come over here for the cash.”
Tommy scoops his wallet up from the dresser and pulls out some money, only to turn around and find Billy just, well, right there. Right fucking there. In the moment Tommy looks at him and takes it all in. The rosy cheeks, the red tip of his nose, and of course the way he looks bundled up against the cold.
At least it’s not a Temba winter, my California Dream.
That’s just too affectionate, he knows, and so Tommy pushes on past it.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, why the hell not,” Billy says with a shrug. “Call it my good deed for the day.”
More like the month. Tommy snorts and hands the money over.
“Don’t know, Hargrove, you might actually just be a nice person from time to time.”
“Don’t count on it. I could always just run off with your money.”
“You really going to do that to a sick guy? Cruel. I’ll wither away and die because you can’t handle one good deed. And then who will make sure you get your burgers the way you like them at the diner?”
That gives Billy pause. Maybe he hadn’t really been thinking about why the food he got at the diner was sometimes better than other times. The simple answer is that when you know a guy long enough, you learn their tastes. And in Billy’s case he knew just what was right.
“Whatever man,” Billy says as he turns away.
“Just drop it all at the door and knock to let me know it’s there. I’ll leave the twenty in the mailbox.”
Billy nods and heads back for the main room and the front door. That leaves Tommy to curl up under his blankets again, opening the music box once he was properly cocooned up.
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Thankfully, an hour later, there was a knock at the door and soon the Camaro was driving off. But there was food waiting for him and his change. Honorable little punk.
Please don’t take my Sunshine away.
Thankfully the winter didn’t linger too much longer. That didn’t mean that it was shorts and t-shirt weather right away. It was still nice to have the ice off of the ground, the risk of illness gone, and the slightly longer days. There were plenty of parties starting up among the high schoolers who were glad to just be free of the winter. As for Tommy, well, he took advantage of the light warmth for something else entirely.
The nights were finally just barely warm enough to be tolerable in nothing more than a sweater and a coat, even late at night. Which was why Tommy was here tonight, at the quarry. Here it was, coming up on one in the morning, and Tommy laid out on the roof of his clunker, staring up at the sky.
There were just so many fucking stars out there.
It was almost peaceful. Almost. Because of course he couldn’t get a moment of peace. There was a noise, ripping through the chill night air like a fucking crime. An engine. Too loud of one by half, and Tommy wanted to scream in frustration because he might go mad from not only it, but the implication that someone was showing up to interrupt his night. Probably a sheriff’s deputy. They could be particularly annoying with the ‘we’re watching you, outsider’ vibe.
He lifted his head just enough to turn his gaze toward the approaching vehicle lights, and…
The Camaro. Huh. He hadn’t expected that.
The car pulled up beside Tommy’s own, the engine soon turning off. There was no real movement in the car though. Well, there was, mostly a moving shape that he knew was Billy. And at this hour of night it was probably only Billy. Then the flicker of firelight, a lighter probably. Which Tommy supposed explained Billy’s presence. This was a means to get smoking, away from where his dad could catch him. Or maybe he was just out for some other reason. Maybe he was out because…
It’s not his business, even if he wants it to be. More than anything Tommy wants to go right over there, haul the door open, and pull Billy into his arms. To tell him that he’d never let the guy hurt again, that he’d break Neil if he even looked at Billy.
Instead he turned his eyes back toward the stars and tried to ignore the other car.
That lasted all of three minutes before he heard the door of the Camaro open. Tommy did his best to keep his eyes to himself, because he knew if he looked at Billy, if he found what he expected, keeping his cool would not be possible. And he’d never be forgiven for that.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks, eyes staring up into the stars.
How many nights had they spent on the beach, looking up at them? How many long trips on the ships, looking out when there was nothing between them and the feeling of being small and insignificant? How many moments with fingers tangled together and secret smiles and whispered dreams?
“Sleep’s for the weak,” Billy answers, and his voice sounds…
Well, Tommy doesn’t have a point of comparison other than to say it sounded wrong. The tone stuck in his craw and made him want to scream. Made him want to find Cherry Lane and break a skull in. Instead he kept his eyes respectfully to the sky.
“Guess you’re not wrong,” he says with a shrug. “At least the night’s beautiful.”
That earned a scoff, and before Bily could say something silly Tommy snorted in amusement.
“Yeah yeah, it’s not like California. No fucing duh. Not like Jersey either. You get the sunsets, we got the sunrises. And these yokels? They get the fucking stars.”
That earned a thoughtful hum, and Tommy could just barely pick out the scent of the Marlboro Reds.
“So then, Jersey, why’d you ever come here?”
“Why does anyone ever come to Hawkins?”
Because your asshole father finds out that you’ve been with a guy and decides to take you somewhere that he thinks will hate you for it as much as he does. Tommy knows. But he can’t tell Billy that.
“That’s my fucking question,” Billy said with a weak laugh. “So? Why did you?”
Well, that’s a simple one, and he could even be sort of honest about it.
“Hawkins isn’t the end goal. It’s a stop on a journey. A way to get somewhere I need to go.”
He stays silent, hoping that’s enough. But of course he should know better. Billy isn’t the sort to just leave that quiet hanging when he was curious about something.
“And where are you going?”
Making my way back to you.
“Home,” he says. “But it’s not a place. It’s… a person. Got a bit lost on the way, needed some time and some funds, so for now, I’m waiting. Waiting for a sign that it’s time.”
The words are met with a scoff of disbelief. Makes sense. Tommy’s pretty sure he doesn’t really believe in things like that. Of course he doesn’t know that even this version of Earth is so far from ‘normal’ that it’s just scary. So Tommy can’t blame him.
“Laugh if you want, but I’m sure it’s coming. My sign.”
He knows how it’s going to happen. Doesn’t know much more than that. A giant monster in the streets, Billy not being himself, and loud noises. Very loud noises. Whatever it was that made Billy flinch at New Tick fireworks.
“Whatever you say man. Good luck I guess. What’ll you do when you find them?”
Tommy smiles.
“Give fate a middle finger.”
This time he wins laughter, loud and boisterous and like he’s just carried Billy off into the night at high speed.
For now it’s enough. Enough for both of them perhaps, because Billy doesn’t ask anything more, and Tommy doesn’t tell him. He gives it maybe twenty minutes before he climbs back into his car and heads for home. Not because he wants to be back in that too quiet trailer, alone and empty and heartbreaking.
No, he leaves because Billy clearly needs this space, and he’s going to give the guy what he needs first and foremost. It’s the only thing he can give right now.