"Five more minutes," Steve mumbled, turning his head further into his pillow. He was pretty sure he didn't have school and even if he did, showing up late was kind of his thing. No one ever gave him grief about it, so why not take advantage of that privilege? He was just too comfortable to care about anything at the moment.

But then the fact that he'd been woken up by something other than an alarm started to worm its way into his brain. His alarm was shrill and couldn't be argued with, besides smacking it to make it snooze. And ever since Nancy, there wasn't ever someone in his bed in the morning. This definitely wasn't a normal circumstance.

"What?" Steve rushed out, sitting up and looking around. Max was staring at him from the end of the bed with a smirk on her face. Billy had the same expression from his spot on the floor. They may not have been related biologically, but they definitely were siblings. "What did I miss?"

"Oh, nothing. Just most of the daylight hours," Max shrugged.

"No, I only closed my eyes for a few minutes," Steve denied, looking around for proof that Max was mistaken. He didn't notice a window from where he was sitting, but common sense told him that he hadn't taken an hours long nap in Billy Hargrove's bed. That would be too weird.

"Afraid so. I thought maybe you'd fallen into a coma, but my textbook told me that probably wasn't the case."

"Shit. I didn't mean to fall asleep," Steve sighed, raking his hand through his hair. The last thing he wanted to do was wear out his welcome. And he didn't want to come across as needy. He was helping them, not the other way around.

"You just let us sleep at your house. It's fine," Max reminded him.

"But if you drooled on my pillow, I'll kick your ass," Billy threatened.

"I don't drool," Steve scoffed, casually running his hand along the pillow he'd used. It was mostly dry. "So, what time is it?"

"Almost 7 o'clock," Max replied.

"Jeez. Why didn't you wake me up?" Steve groaned, running a hand down his face to wipe away the last remnants of sleep.

"You obviously needed it." Steve could admit that Max was right. He'd been exhausted and had a headache he could never fully get rid of. But after this lengthy nap, he was actually starting to feel human again. It was nice.

"Did you guys just sit here and watch me sleep all day?"

"Pretty much."

"Just wait until everyone hears about all those little snoring sounds you make when you sleep," Billy smirked, raising his eyebrows.

"And then you'll have to explain how you heard them in the first place. Steve Harrington in Billy Hargrove's bed. The scandal," Steve gasped exaggeratedly. "Besides, I don't snore."

"You kind of do," Max said, patting him on the knee.

"Whatever," Steve grunted, rolling his eyes. Even if he was being teased, it was kind of nice. He could handle a bit of good-natured ribbing. "I should probably get going. I'm about five hours past what would be considered an appropriate visit length."

"Or you could stay? Our parents went out to eat, so they aren't here."

"So what are you going to eat?" Steve asked.

"Whatever's in the fridge," Max shrugged.

"I've got my dinner right here," Billy grinned, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting the end.

"So nutritious."

"You think you could do better?" Billy challenged, raising his eyebrows.

"I know I could do better."

"Prove it."

"Fine, I will," Steve huffed, scooting off the bed and marching out of the room. He knew he'd just been goaded into making dinner for them, but he didn't care. Steve still got the satisfaction of proving his competence and making sure his new friends were taken care of. He didn't know where this side of him had come from, but now there was no stopping it.

Steve started checking out the fridge and cabinets, trying to find something he could cook. Even though he'd been cooking for himself for years, it wasn't like he was making gourmet meals. Honestly, if it wasn't something frozen that he could pop into the oven, he usually didn't bother with it. Sandwiches and frozen pizzas were his staples, but he did know how to follow directions on a box.

"You guys aren't going to catch shit if some of this food goes missing, will you?" Steve asked, shaking a can of corn in their direction.

"Nah, it's fine," Max waved off, hopping up onto the counter to watch him work.

"Corn. Wow," Billy deadpanned, sitting down at the table and crossing his arms.

"Not just corn," Steve grinned, tossing a box at Billy's face. He caught it with ease, squinting his eyes as he read the label.

"Stove Top?"

"Not quite the spread you see on TV, but it'll do," Steve shrugged. Max helped him gather all the pans and utensils he needed and watched him go. Billy stayed where he was seated, but Steve could tell that he was paying attention to everything he was doing.

Steve had to admit that when the smell of the food started wafting around the room, he felt some sort of way. The last time he sat down for a meal with someone in their home had been with Barb's parents, so it hadn't been the greatest. And before that, it was the rare occasion at Nancy's house. It had been okay, but he always felt like he was playing a part. For some reason, with Billy and Max, it felt easy. Their relationship was still fresh, but they weren't trying to impress each other. Everyone knew where everyone stood. Shedding blood with someone had a tendency to make trivial things feel insignificant. The fact that they had a common enemy didn't hurt either.

"Dinner is served!" Steve announced with a flourish, setting the pans down on the center of the table. Max had set out plates for them already, while Billy muttered under his breath about how ridiculous everything was. It didn't stop him from taking a giant helping of everything though.

"This is really good," Max commended, digging into her own portion.

"It's nothing. Just reading a box," Steve waved off. "I could show you how to make some stuff, if you wanted? I don't know how often you guys are left to your own devices when it comes to meal time."

"Really?" Max asked.

"Sure. I'm not a fancy chef or anything, but if you give me a box or can of something and I can probably figure it out," Steve shrugged. The idea of cooking with someone else was sort of exciting. Setting out a meal that was just for him didn't really mean much.

"Well, look at Chef Boyardee over here," Billy snickered, finishing up what was on his plate. Steve wasn't going to mention that Billy practically shoveled everything down without breathing. "Planning on opening up a culinary school?"

"Maybe I will. And the first lesson is the person who didn't help cook gets to do the dishes," Steve grinned, tipping his head toward the full sink.

"I don't wash dishes," Billy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aw, come on. It's not that hard. I can show you how."

"I know how to wash dishes, I just don't," Billy grunted.

"I guess I'll do them myself," Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and slumping in his chair a little. "Just give me a minute to see if this headache will go away."

"Really? You're not over that yet?"

"Head trauma is tricky."

"You're so full of it."

"These lights are so bright," Steve moaned.

"Like I give a shit."

"I'm feeling dizzy."

"Tough."

"I might pass out again."

"Fine!" Billy snapped, snatching up the plates from the table. "Just shut the hell up!"

"Thank you, Billy," Steve grinned, watching him stomp over and put the dishes roughly in the sink. He let Billy stew for a few minutes while he sat with Max, who was trying to contain her giggles. Riling up Billy was kind of fun, at least when he was pretty sure the guy wasn't going to lash out violently. That was just what friends did.

Steve finally took pity on Billy and got up, walking over to join him at the sink. His head was kind of hurting, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. If his last head injury taught him anything, it was that the headaches wouldn't be going away completely anytime soon. And since this time was a lot worse than with Jonathan, it was going to be a while before he was back to normal. Good thing he had new issues to keep him distracted.

"What are you doing?" Billy grumbled, eyeing him as he picked up a towel.

"You wash, I'll dry. I'm not that much of an asshole," Steve smirked.

"Could've fooled me," Billy shot back, handing over a wet pan.

"You say the nicest things," Steve chuckled, glancing around the room. He hadn't been paying much attention when Max was bringing things out. "Where does this go?"

"I'll do this part," Max volunteered, taking the pan from him and putting it back where it belonged.

"This is nice," Steve said with a smile. Doing chores was always better when you had someone there to help you. The only time he cleaned at his house was just before his parents came home or when he had company like Nancy come over, which wasn't often. But maybe he would have a reason to now. And that idea kind of excited him.

They continued on like that until the kitchen was spotless again. Was this what it was like to have siblings? Steve knew that Billy and Max were very early in their new relationship of giving each other a chance, but he was sort of jealous of them. He wouldn't want someone to have to deal with being borderline neglected by their parents like he was, but having an ally would be nice. To have someone by his side to take on the world with. Maybe that was why he had so readily accepted his role as babysitter. It felt good to take care of someone.

The time finally came for Steve to go back home, even though he didn't want to. After spending the past day with people around, he knew how empty it was going to feel. But he didn't want to stay too long and have Billy get in trouble with his dad. Getting banned from the Hargrove house wouldn't be good.

"See you at school tomorrow?" Steve asked, hovering near the front door. Max had gone off to get ready for bed, so it was just him and Billy.

"Someone's gotta teach your dumb ass how to play basketball."

"Excuse me? You just play dirty," Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"It's called playing smart," Billy replied, leaning against the doorway with a cocky look on his face. Steve almost asked if Billy was planning on pretending they were still enemies around other people, but he decided against it. It sounded too pathetic. And if that's what Billy decided, Steve would accept it. He would still try to be friends with Billy in any way the guy would accept.

"Okay. Well, bye," Steve said as normally as possible, turning to go back to his car. Hopefully he'd be able to pass out the moment he crawled into bed.

"Harrington," Billy called after him, walking out to meet him in the walkway. Steve was sort of expecting a punch or insult, just to make things feel normal again. But what he got was Billy digging a sheet of paper out of his pocket and holding it out to him. Steve opened it up, grinning as he read what was written.

"Your phone number?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to mention that Max had already given it to him. The fact that Billy had as well meant something.

"So you can call next time, instead of just showing up," Billy huffed, rolling his eyes. "I could've had a girl over."

"Right," Steve agreed easily. They didn't need to say what this really was. "Do you want mine?"

"I've already got it," Billy smirked, lighting another cigarette and walking back into his house without another word. Maybe this friendship would last a while.