the_freak | Dear Billy

It's amazing he has any strength left after being starved and trapped for so long. The bottle bounces off of his chest and he manages to juggle it for a couple of seconds before finally nabbing it. The pills rattle about inside, then out as the cap gets unscrewed and he dumps a couple into his hand. Billy downs them with a hard swallow, recaps it, then tosses it back.

"I didn't even put that much fucking pressure on you, pussy," he snaps, missing the teasing tone. God his head hurts and he's still hungry. "I thought that Mind Flayer shit was gone!" He's not... angry, but definitely irritated, as he heads back downstairs. The blond lays out on the couch, pressing his face into the worn out cushions.

It wasn't the best material to put his face against, but after being without any sort of comforts for months, this could be silk for all he knew.

Eddie's head tilts, expression twisting into something of a 'duh' look at being called a pussy, and despite the snapping tone he's met with he laughs softly. "Uh...yeah. Where have you been?"

He gives Hargrove a bit of space though, fiddling with that door for a moment before abandoning it to follow after him.

He fetches a glass of water, setting it on the table for him, and after an uncertain moment he drapes one of the blankets he fished out over the other man. "...Pretty sure Rick's done some pretty unspeakable things where your face is," he adds, just so he can't be accused of letting the moment get too wholesome or anything.

There's a slight motion - the sudden blanket startled him because he hadn't been expecting it. But he rolls over to show his face to Eddie again, groaning. "I've had an inter-dimensional son-of-a-bitch in my head, my brain split in two, and you think I give a fuck about cum stains right now?"

Though despite the edge of bite his words have, even Billy smirks at that. "And I'm sharing a house with a wanted murderer." But he gets the hint and rolls so his face doesn't press back into the cushions.

"Fuck I am hungry. Even worse now. I'd eat that soup again if I didn't think I'd see it again."

"Oh, nastier than that," Eddie pivots with an easy grin, though he's clearly just playing.

"Corpse and a wanted murderer walk into a bar...I've heard that one..." he muses, teasing smile fading some as he considers Hargrove's next words. "...I'll uh...I'll poke around, see if I can't figure out something easier to stomach. You sip on the water. Maybe catch a nap, I dunno."

The smirk cracks into a grin, even as he tries to make himself comfortable. "I'd walk into a bar if I didn't already feel hungover." Which was true. But he makes himself comfortable at last and watches Eddie leave for the kitchen. His head throbs and he just shuts his eyes.

He doesn't want to nap. There's not really a need for it. God, he slept so much while down in the lab, and it wasn't just sleep when Billy was awake. At least it's safe here. And warm. The blanket is a little scratchy but... it helps. With what, Hargrove doesn't know.

Whatever.

Everything goes dark like he's taking a nap before the eyes flutter open again. Tired. Hungry. He sits up and Billy notes the toast still on the table. That was his right? He's not sure how he got onto the couch, but he sits there and takes the toast to munch on. Crunchy, dry, and plain, but it was something.

"You settle that stomach in time and we can toast your birthday," he promises. Eddie doubts Hargrove/Billy are going to be feeling 100% any time soon, but guy deserves a drink for his nineteenth.

He's busy in the kitchen for the switch over, though it's not long before there's a loud clattering and a string of curses, a frazzled Eddie peering back in to check on Hargrove and pausing when he sees him munching away on that toast.

Oh. Right. The toast. His cheeks colour, and he holds up a finger without explanation, ducking back into the kitchen to abort whatever he's been working on. "You're going slow, right Hargrove? You start ralphing again and I'm not holding your hair back."

The toast is good. Maybe there's some butter or jam in the kitchen he could put on another slice to make it better. Billy looks up when he hears the clattering and swearing, mouth pausing mid-chew on a bite. When Eddie peeks in and addresses him, he frowns.

"You can call me Billy. That's my name," he points out, then munches on another piece. "I don't know what you're talking about, but this is helping. Is there any more bread? I can probably eat this for a bit. Is there jam?" He recalls a distant, hazy memory of being sick, and someone with blonde and curly hair like his, taking care of him.

Fuck. Billy again. Eddie's expression definitely betrays that there's something larger at play in how he blinks and hesitates a moment.

"...maybe sit with that one for a bit first?" he suggests casually, "A few minutes, and then if you still want more I can make it?"

The way Eddie looks just makes the frown deepen. Was there something wrong? He had passed out earlier - Eddie probably put him on the couch and was just worried. Maybe he hit his head? Eddie said he vomited, so maybe he did while he was out of it. There's no telling.

A huff and he sits back with the piece he's halfway through at this point. "Yeah? Make me feel like a child with a timer and shit for my food." But he eats what he's got, and sits back with the blanket still in his lap. The headache is at least ebbing, his stomach cramps lessening with some sort of food in it. But he waits, drumming his fingers on a knee while he does.

Because he wants more. He's hungry, damn it.

"Yeah, well, if you're a real good boy you get a shiny gold sticker," Eddie teases lightly, lips spreading into a grin.

He's not really sure how to properly fuss, dropping a second blanket into Billy's lap and pretending to get one for himself, quickly dropping it unused onto a chair and forgetting about it as he settles into a completely different one.

"So um...do you...how are you...feeling?" he asks carefully, not sure how to broach this. Hey, do you feel like you have a whole other guy in your head, but not THAT guy? Cause you do!

There's a bit of staring for a very long moment. Then another, then he finally looks away. He hears Eddie approach, and accepts the random blanket being added to his lap. He pulls it around his dirty figure, sinking into its warmth. Well, what little warmth it has at the moment. Hopefully it'll have more from what little Billy's radiating.

"Mostly hungry. A little... almost like being hungover I guess? Just, the usual feelings after you get sick." Eyes glance over Eddie, lingering on his hands like they'll magically produce more toast. "A bit tired too, but I'm always tired." Billy didn't realize that being tired was just a side effect of switching, especially when they body had to deal with Hargrove's high energy.

Eddie glances reflexively at his broken watch, but naturally it gives him no idea how long he's actually made Billy wait. He wants him to be able to keep it all down this time. If he caves too soon and Billy gets sick he figures he'll feel worse than he does now.

"God, I know. Like...five more minutes, okay? Pills should kick in soon," he offers, though maybe Billy doesn't remember taking them...that was Hargrove. "...do remember how you wound up on the couch?" he tries to prompt.

What pills? Was Eddie trying to drug him or something? Fuck. Or maybe he was thinking too hard about it, it was probably just aspirin. He notes how his head hurt but less now. He rubs his forehead with a grimace, thinking on the question.

"I remember… sort of collapsing. Over there," and the blond points to the area where the switch had happened. When Hargrove had deemed Eddie a threat and went for answers. "Figured I had blacked out or some shit and you put me on the couch. Better than staying on the floor."

A moment or two passes. "Do I seriously have to wait five fucking minutes for another piece of toast?" Maybe Billy will apologize for what he's saying while he's hangry.

"Something like that," Eddie agrees. He needs to wrap his own brain around this before he tries to explain it properly to someone else. And he doesn't need Hargrove jumping out to try and strangle him if he freaks Billy the hell out.

"I mean...I don't actually have any authority here." Eddie points out with a grin, "But if you want me to make it for you, then yeah. You're gonna wait five whole fucking minutes." There's a playfully challenging look directed at Billy.

It wouldn't be the first time he's blacked out, it won't be the last. Billy takes that in stride and is at least glad someone was here to get him off the floor. Blue eyes linger on the vase and he gets up to pick it up and carry it back to the couch. Billy looks like he's about to say something, but Eddie beats him to it. Talking about making the toast.

Instead of giving a smart retort, Billy throws his blanket over Eddie's head and sets down the vase on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen. "Fuck you, I'm not waiting for you to burn the house down to make toast." Ah, there's the snappy remark. He goes to the kitchen and fishes out another few pieces of bread. He eats at one while the other two toast. The stomach growls again, protesting the meager offerings but it's better than nothing.

"Hey-" Eddie's protest is muffled by the blanket, and it takes him a moment to untangle himself from it, trying to push his hair back into place with a huff. "Arson's not my thing, remember?!-" he retorts, raising his voice rather than follow after him. Of course- Billy won't remember it's murder that's his supposed new thing, but there's plenty of alleged crime to chose from when it comes to 'that Munson Boy'.

He sighs and settles in the chair rather than try into stop him, touching his side and wincing a little. Maybe he's over done it today with the physical crap. Wheeler'll give him hell if she finds out he hasn't been taking it easy.

"If it's not arson, then what is it, freak?" Billy calls back, eyes set on the steam coming out of the toaster as it does its job to the bread. When it pops, he quickly puts it onto the plate and heads back to the living room. He and Eddie might not be friends, but Billy doesn't want to be alone. Not after months in the darkness.

He catches the wince and plops down hard next to the other. "What did you do? Looks like something hurts. You finally fuck around and find out with someone?"

"Well, we are in my supplier's house right now," Eddie returns, cheeky grin almost audible in his voice, "You weren't one of my clients though. Maybe you have some wonderfully wholesome image of me."

"Nn- fuck-" Eddie makes a show of rolling his eyes, laughing softly, "First off, it would not be the first time, let's not kid ourselves," he points out, trying to redirect with humor, and he shrugs a shoulder, "Nothing serious," he lies almost reflexively. Though Billy knows at least a bit about the sort of shit that's really going on in Hawkins, don't he? "You know, just...epic battle wounds, fighting evil. Totally boring shit."

"Fuckin' junkie," he mutters around the crisped bread. "No one in school has a wholesome image of you. You're a freak, Eddie." The first piece gets finished off quickly, proving just how ravenous he is. Even licks the crumbs off of fingertips. He tries to not think about the cupcakes that were put in the fridge for later.

Finally, he turns his gaze down to where Eddie had been pressing at his side, scowling. "So you're fucking hurt. And now trying to play it off?" The last piece of toast gets a mega-bite bitten from it before he's up again, moving towards the bathroom. Or where he thinks it is anyways. "Where's a first aid kit? Not having you bleed out on the couch. Or get infected with whatever the fuck is on those cushions."

After all, if it wasn't safe to have his face pressed into it, probably wouldn't be good to have an injury near it either.

There's an amused noise, Eddie not seeming bothered by the title at all as he grins widely. He's built up a whole persona around it, leaned in and taken some of the power from those who spit it at him with malice. "You should try it some time, you might like it."

"It's fine," he dismisses, but Billy's all ready up. Eddie wants to say he doesn't know, but he's familiar enough with Rick's place to wave him back towards the kitchen. "Top cupboard, on the left."

Billy listens and his steps can be heard going back into the kitchen. While he looks, he drops another piece of bread into the toaster to cook while he searches. Thankfully with Eddie's directions it doesn't really take long to find it. The toaster pops, the first aid kit is found, and the toast is held in his mouth as he heads into the living room.

"Over." He twists his hand to indicate what he wants Eddie to do, then takes the toast out of his mouth. "Let me see it. Before you bleed through your shirt and you look like a God damn crime scene."

"Are you making more fucking toast??" Eddie gives an exasperated groan. He's totally going to puke again. Though he does seem to be managing better. Maybe his stomach's adjusted some.

He gives a vaguely disgruntled look, but he's all ready moving to twist into position. "You know, most people buy me a drink at least before they start ordering me around like this," he notes with another of those grins, tugging his shirt up and off with a bit of strain. He's definitely torn some of the stitches Nancy worked so hard on, bandages stained with blood, and he eyes it with guilty surprise. "You know what you're doing at least?" he asks.

"I told you I was fucking hungry!" There's some anger in his tone, and Billy quickly finishes off the piece before taking a seat again. The kit gets opened and rummaged through while Eddie takes his shirt off. There's a glance and a scowl at the torn stitches, and he picks out surgical needle and thread that were still in the container.

"Yeah. You learn to do shit like this where I'm from." With what he's experienced anyways. Easier to fix himself up, rather than go to a doctor and let his dad get wind of it at all. The last bit of bandage gets taken off and tossed to the side to deal with later. "No numbing shit in here. You're a drug dealer so I'm guessing you're not gonna be a pussy about this."

With a little skill, the blond manages to thread the needle and finish readying it. "And if you start flinching on me, I'll knock you out so you stay still."

"Yeah, well don't come crying to me if you puke your guts out again," Eddie mutters.

"What, California?" He drops that teasing tone just a bit, afraid of coaxing out that proper anger if he pushes too far. Annoyance keeps him from displaying too unsure of a look. He managed without last time, but Harrington had to hold him down. They were fresher then though, and he isn't sure he's about to die this time, so he nods with a defiant look.

"You really need to work on your bedside manner, you know that?"

"You really think I care about my bedside manner?" Billy wasn't known for his manners after all. "And yeah, of course California, not this shitstain of a hick town." The words are all but spat out. Billy hasn't warmed up to this city by now, especially after being shut away somewhere dark and unknown for the longest time. The blond moves in closer and gets a better look.

"Won't take too long to stitch this back up." He had done it to himself once, stitching up a gash on his arm caused by a plate. The skull tattoo covered the scar left behind for the most part.

The stitching starts and for whatever it's worth, Billy's hands are as gentle as they can be. He remembers this shit hurting when he closed up his arm. "I hate it here," comes the quiet admittance. "California has it's flaws, but at least the ocean makes up for it."

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