Imagine Billy trying to teach Steve to surf. They take a road trip to California after Billy recovers from being pulled from the Upside Down, when he feels up to being in public again. It's Steve's idea. It's a very long drive, but Billy rolls down the windows, much to Steve's hair's dismay, and cranks up the radio and just drives. They sing along with the music, Billy shyly and Steve off-key, though Billy suspects it's on purpose to make him feel better about singing in front of Steve. They stop at cutesy little diners because Steve needs a milkshake twice a day or he gets pouty. They stop at motels when they get each other too worked up to keep driving. And sometimes they just stop because Billy thought he heard a demodog or saw a streetlight flicker a little too oddly and needs Steve to coo soothing words into his ear and hold him tightly, because he's afraid he'll open his eyes and be there again.
California tastes like home and Billy soaks in the sun. The ocean reflects in his eyes, cool and blue and wild. Steve watches the darkness in Billy retreat a little with every passing hour. It breaks his heart that it still lingers there, buried in Billy's core, creeping up on him when he least expects it, gnawing at him, but he knows it will take a long time to heal. Maybe this can be the first step.
Steve fusses over sunscreen until Billy gets fed up and pushes him into the water, then proceeds to fall down and laugh hysterically at the look of utter betrayal on Steve's face, because now his hair is ruined. When he's finally able to stand, Billy drags Steve out to surf.
It's awful. Steve is a complete disaster and Billy can't even stay on his board he's laughing so hard. Billy finds himself wondering how someone so incredibly pretty can be so atrocious at something. And he smiles because this is love, and he's happy. Billy's happy.
