"I gotta hand it to you boys," Darla murmured as she unfurled her cards. "It's been almost half an hour and no one's tried to turn this into a game of strip poker."
Steve's eyes flitted over his hand in a nervous fashion. "What can I say," he muttered absently, "I guess we're all gentlemen here. I'm raising."
A cloud of smoke drifted out of Billy's lips while he studied the fidgety male across the table. "Raising what, Harrington? We're not playing for cash. Or clothing. Yet."
He bobbed his head in thought. "Three shots," he announced matter-of-factly. "Three. Back to back. No chasers."
Darla put her cards down and knocked back her shot. "I'm out. Hard pass. Leave me alone. Pour me another, but leave me alone. Time out. I'll be back." She got to her feet and stretched until two little cracks emanated from somewhere on her body. She then made her way towards the opposite end of the house, taking very conscientious steps along the way, to the bathroom leaving the boys unsupervised.
As if on cue, both of them leaned back in their seats and met each other's gaze steadily.
The first round had been awkward to say the least. They squabbled over rules and wild cards until the trio reached a truce, everyone took their second shot, and they started over. Darla had won one hand so far, as had Billy, but Steve was on a streak. He had managed to come out on top for the last three rounds and the game's dynamic was shifting.
"Scared, Hargrove?" he taunted.
Billy responded with a low, throaty chuckle. He exhaled a long tendril of smoke and put out his cigarette in the old ash tray Darla had put out.
"You think you're hot shit, Harrison?"
The ghost of a smirk played with the corners of Steve's lips. He didn't bother to correct him. He wasn't going to give him what he wanted.
"I think you have two options, man. Take the bet and brace your liver, or fold. But I already know you're going to take the bet because you have that prideful aura, and all."
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," Billy gave a small shrug. He was harbouring a sneaky grin that sent a shiver of uneasiness down Steve's spine. "Maybe I've been playing you long enough to learn your tells, and maybe I'm not the Neanderthal you keep making me out to be."
Steve blinked. The alcohol left a murky glaze in the front of his mind but he was doing everything he could to hide it. Billy's demeanor, while suspiciously more pleasant while they played the game, hadn't shifted much. Darla had started to dance two shots ago, wriggling her shoulders ever so slightly while she hummed a melody he couldn't quite place, but was otherwise holding her own. He didn't want to be the first one to crack.
"So you fold?"
"I could," Billy leaned forwards. His breath was coming hot and heavy. A crease formed in his brow between his eyes, which were struggling to focus, but held their resolve.
Steve followed in suit and their voices quieted down. The seconds stretched out between them, leaving the thin layer of cigarette smoke over their heads to be the loudest thing in the room.
"But, Harrington… why would I fold when I know that you're bluffing out your asshole?"
"Pretty cocky for someone who's about to need their stomach pumped."
"Pretty cocky for someone calling you on your shit." Billy grabbed the half-empty bottle of vodka and gave it a coy little shake. Amid the elongated tension in the room, the contents sloshed with a menacing taunt. "I'll see your three shots, and then I'm going to raise you."
"I don't know, man…" Steve pursed his lips. "I'd love to see you try to chug the rest of the bottle but I think your girlfriend's going to be pretty pissed that she leaves us alone for two minutes and you're passed out on the ground."
"She's not my girlfriend," Billy spat a little too hastily.
Was it the elixir talking, or had the temperature in the room shifted without warning? Billy gave a half-hearted shrug and dropped his gaze, returning his attention to his cards. The edges of his lips turned down ever so slightly while his brows pulled up in narrow arches.
"No labels," he muttered, "but you're right about one thing. She's a tough one and she'd kick your ass if she felt it could be justified."
"I'll bet," Steve responded and he meant it. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm coated on his words. Once they were out there the room fell into a stagnant hum. It was a gentle quiet that left the hazy cabin feeling untainted and tranquil. Like they weren't two men who were trying to beat the crap out of one another less than an hour ago, they were just playing the game.
Darla returned to the table and inexplicably knocked her knuckles against the tabletop a few times.
"What'd I miss?" she asked.
"Harrington decided the game needed a change of pace," Billy murmured. He wore a new smirk that sent a shiver of unease down Steve's neck but he held his ground.
Darla frowned. "I knew I should have kept my mouth shut about strip poker."
"Oh, I think you're going to approve of the new stakes. Don't you worry about that."
Steve guffawed. "Jesus, Hargrove. Do I even want to know what you're thinking?"
"You're the one letting your little sailor do your talking, just swinging it around, making reckless bets."
The commentary threw him off and Steve blinked several times in succession as if his eyelids were a hamster wheel and he needed his brain to catch up quickly. "Wait, what?"
Darla chuckled. "Oh, Billy, come on. I don't think he likes to play like we do."
"He's a big boy, Dar, he knows where the door is if he gets scared. Besides, I think he needs this."
"Are we going sailing?" Steve's eyes bulged.
They both slid questionable looks his way and Darla slowly, quietly, reached forwards and nudged Steve's glass further away from him. "Drink some water, sweetie."
He was about to argue but decided to reach for the water bottle he had been provided earlier. Hydration was nothing to be ashamed of, after all.
Billy cleared his throat. "Alright, here's what's going to happen, Harrington, and if you ever repeat what I'm about to say to anyone I will break into your home in the middle of the night and you're going to wake up to the sound of your mother's sweet moans and groans but you will find your pops fast asleep on in the living room, you feel me?"
Steve snarled. "You are a gross person."
"That's no way to talk to someone about to throw you a bone."
Steve winced. "Dude, what the hell?"
"Bad choice of words, babe…" Darla shook her head and left the table once again. Before Steve could see where she was going, Billy banged his fist lightly on the table and drew the focus back to him.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry, but whatever. You know why you're in a slump, Harrington?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said I was in a slump?"
"I did, because it's a fact. Ever since I got to this shithole town, all anyone talks about is this King Steve and why am I only just meeting him tonight? Your game is shit, at least from what I've seen, and while this place does reek of actual shit I find it hard to believe their best player can barely make ten points a game. I've only seen you at one party this year—which you left before midnight—and all your so-called-friends have been whispering about your disappearance. I mean, you were hanging out with a group of twelve-year-olds tonight, for Christ's sake."
"Okay, I was babysitting, and that's a whole other issue—" Steve snapped but Billy held up a hand to cut him off.
"You're letting that Nancy chick get to you, man. She's in your head. And now that you lost her, she's eating you alive and if you don't find a way to get the hell over her, then you're gonna blink and in twenty years you will still be here. Moping around town, pining over what could've been, single-handedly carrying the malt liquor business cause that'll be all you can afford. You're an alright guy, Harrington. Don't let that girl ruin your life like that."
Steve sunk in his chair. After the year they had, it was impossible to imagine his life without Nancy, but it was more than that. It was that Byers kid, and everything he'd seen, everything they had been through, all of them… Sure it brought him closer to the kids and even working alongside Hopper had helped him get through a lot of stuff. But every time he saw Nancy it was like his whole world got turned… it was like he could feel himself being pulled inside out and he knew it wasn't good for him.
She had broken him and moved on without a hitch, which meant their whole year together was a lie. He never meant anything to her, not really. It was almost impossible for him to wrap his mind around. Was he nothing more than a distraction from the horrors of Hawkins lab? If they hadn't gone through the monstrosity that was last year, would she have ever stayed with him? Did she date him out of guilt, or gratitude, or pity?
He'd been marinating in her betrayal for long enough. He knew it was time to move on, but how? It was so hard to get the picture of her out of his mind.
"I'm gonna help you, Harrington," Billy leaned back in his chair. "I don't think you realize just how badly you need this. Do you trust me?"
Steve splayed his cards on the table. Three jacks gawked up at him with blank vengeance.
"What do you got?"
Billy's face became unreadable. His gaze flashed from Steve's cards, to his cards, to Steve's face, back to his cards.
"Well, shit," he groaned.
He didn't intend to, but Steve laughed.
"HA! What?! You really dug yourself a grave there, didn't you?" Steve chortled, suddenly giddy. He rocked back and forth in his chair unable to quell the giggling climbing up his throat. "So what do you got? Pair of twos? Ace high? That was a nice speech, man, but what, did I just win your car or something?"
"Not quite," Billy sighed. His eyes trailed over the back of Steve's head. "I just needed to give her a minute." He hastily revealed his hand just as Steve's were snatched and pulled behind his back.
"Full house, Stevie."
The clink of handcuffs bound his wrists together behind his back and then came the blindfold.