Fallout || Stranger Things [2]

nine || tears and togas

"So what I'm getting right now is that no one is going to pregame with me?"

Nancy lifted her head from the concentration of her compact mirror. "Steve, it's not even six."

Blinking dully as he hovered a bottle opener over a fresh beer, Steve shrugged. "I've done worse." He cracked open the bottle with a satisfying sizzle, tossing the cap aside as he took a long drink. "You guys don't understand. I finally have something to celebrate. My interview went amazing, so I actually have a shot at getting out of Hawkins."

"You put me in a dress," Billy echoed from his bedroom. "So no, I will not be celebrating."

"Let's see it, then," Nancy chided as she adjusted the gold leaves encircling her elegantly curled hair.

"If you keep your boxers on, you're technically wearing shorts, thus no longer a dress," Steve offered, draining his beer before leaning forward on the kitchen counter.

Appearing in the hall with a flat expression, Billy propped his hands on his waist, accentuating the shape of the white cloth draped around him. "I'm wearing a dress, Steve."

Steve stepped out from behind the counter, waving a hand down his own white sheet twisted to perfection. "These togas are rockin', okay? And it's Halloween. No one cares."

Billy's brows lifted, unimpressed. "Keg stands?"

"Just keep your boxers on, dude." Steve rustled another beer from the fridge and cracked it open. "What would you rather do what you did last year and just dress up like a tool?"

Squinting, Billy said, "Yes."

"Then drink a beer to forget you're wearing a dress." Steve grabbed another beer from the fridge, holding it out with a grin.

"I hate you."

Steve held up his hands innocently as the bottle was snatched away. "Less than last year, so I'll take it."

"You guys are ridiculous," Nancy groaned, brushing down her much sturdier lilac dress styled in Greek fashion. "And the fact is, you are wearing dresses. But here's the thing. We're going to a magical place where everyone's going to be so drunk that they won't even notice."

Billy took a long pause, narrowing his eyes before clinking bottles with Steve. "Fine."

They would find that 'magical place' wasn't exactly synonymous with a frat house.

"How much more time do I have to get tipsy?" Steve asked as he wandered to the apartment bathroom, toying his hair to an astronomical height as he ignored the soft waver in his footing.

"Like ten," Nancy offered.

"Hey Billy, where's that stuff I had last time I was here?"

Billy's brows rose softly. "I don't think you want that."

A scoffed flowed from the bathroom followed by a mist of hairspray. "Uh, yeah, I think I do."

Nancy caught Billy's gaze across the kitchen, brows furrowing in. "Last time?"

Billy sighed as he retrieved the bottle of Johnny Walker from the top cabinet, filling the same mint colored mug with just enough to warm the soul. "He showed up very sad," he whispered to her as he rounded the kitchen counter, holding his breath to avoid hairspray as he poked the mug inside the bathroom. "And got very drunk," he finished quietly on his return.

And surprisingly, Nancy outstretched a hand and clenched it like a toddler as she eyes the Johnny Walker.

"You want this?" he asked, blatantly uncomfortable in his toga as he shifted every five seconds. He cracked a grin, shaking his head as he poured a short glass. "You look like you're five seconds away from saying 'gimme gimme', Nance."