Summary: When a sleepy stranger walks into the diner where you work late at night, you thought nothing of it. Until the stranger becomes a regular, you finally get his name, and start to get curious about his story, He doesn't feel so much like such a stranger anymore. Suddenly you're compelled to help the man, offering whatever little you have to offer. Will he take you up on it? [canon; takes place between S2 & S3]

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: a bit angsty. Mentions to injury and abuse, nothing specific.

Song inspiration: Closing Time by Semisonic

Author's note: As usual, I just want Billy to have someone in his life that he can turn to and feel safe with okay??? So I heard this song and came up with this story. Please let me know your thoughts. <3

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"Sir?"

No response.

"Excuse me, sir?" you said a little louder this time, leaning into the booth.

Still nothing.

Reaching out a hand, you hesitantly placed it on the shoulder of the sleeping man and shook him slightly. "Sir, I'm sorry but we're closing."

That did it. The curly-haired blond shot awake with a start, fear splashing across his face before he realized where he was. You had immediately retreated from his space once he was awake.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the diner is closing," you repeated again.

The man's eyes darted about the empty booths surrounding him before he focused on your concerned face. He ran a hand down his tired face and nodded.

"Right. Sorry," he uttered quietly, hand reaching into his pocket for something.

This wasn't the first time the handsome but chronically exhausted man with the curly blond mullet had showed up at the diner late at night. And more often than not, you'd noticed he would drift off to sleep in a booth despite the harsh overhead lights and him drinking copious amounts of coffee poured by you.

It was the only thing he ordered most nights: black coffee almost by the gallon. As the diner began to close around 1am, he would pull out a few crumpled bills and some change to pay for the coffee. He always gave you a generous tip, which immediately endeared you to him. The man always came alone in his growling muscle car and over time he started to prefer a certain booth with cracked red vinyl seats and spotted formica tabletop. It also happened to be in your usual section of tables. Coincidence, probably.

You started to look forward to his visits, the bell jangling over the door bringing your head up in hopes that it was him. But then he came in with a bloody lip one time. Later, it was a cut above his eye. You might have pegged him as a boxer or something but his flawless knuckles said otherwise. It wasn't your place to ask, but...you worried. About a stranger. Ridiculous.

As he dropped the expected crumpled bills and some coins on the table, you watched as he yawned once again. Your heart lurched.

"Hey, wait," you spoke up before your brain had even caught up.

The man looked your way and paused.

"Why don't you sit a minute and have another cup of coffee? Gotta wake up a bit. We don't want you wrapping your pretty car around a tree cause you drifted off," you proposed, hoping your tone was light enough to be taken as a joke.

"Um..." he hesitated, patting his pockets.

"No charge," you assured him. "It's the last of the pot and would get thrown out anyway,"

That convinced him. "Okay. Thank you."

You sighed in relief. Walking around the counter, you grabbed the pot, a clean mug and a saucer. Setting it down before him, you poured the dark liquid and started to walk away.

"Would you mind—" he began, then pausing.

Turning back to the man, you offered a smile. "Yes?"

"C—could you maybe stay a minute? Make sure I don't fall asleep again before the caffeine kicks in?" he requested, having trouble meeting your eyes.

"Sure," you replied. "Give me just a second."

Walking around the counter again, you poured the last inch of coffee down the sink and rinsed the pot before grabbing a plastic tray full of all the salt and pepper shakers you'd already gathered from each table. You carried the tray over to his table and then returned again to lift a bus tub of half-full ketchup bottles that clinked together as you walked. Setting the tub down, you slid into the booth across from the man and resumed your end-of-day tasks.

"Thank you," he spoke softly.

"Not a problem," you said with a smile. "It's nice having company for the boring tasks."

He returned your smile, then watching as you began to unscrew all the ketchup bottles and turned half of them upside down to drain into the bottle below. The most common term for this was called "marrying the ketchups", which you found funny. While gravity did it's job, you loosened all the salt shaker tops and began to use a paper funnel to fill them.

"Y/N, right?" his deep voice and the question surprised you, then you looked down at your plastic name tag still pinned to your shirt.

"Yup. And you are..."

"Billy."

You nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Billy. You're not from around here, are you?"

Billy shifted in his seat, quiet a moment.

"I just meant, um...I noticed your California license plates. Plus, this is a small town," you explained.

He clenched his jaw, nodding once in confirmation. "Yeah. Moved to the next town over, Hawkins, last Fall."

"Makes sense," you muttered, keeping your hands busy.

Billy sipped his coffee, staring out the window into the darkness for a few silent moments.

"How long have you worked here?" he asked.

"About two years," you replied, keeping your focus on the salt shakers. "Started picking up shifts after school to help pay the bills."

He nodded, cupping the coffee mug with both hands and staring into its depths.

Keeping your hands moving, you switched to the pepper shakers. You almost expected him to ask you to expand on your statement, but to your surprise, he didn't. As if...he already understood.

"What brings you all the way out here in the middle of the night?" you asked.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Just for the coffee," he jested with a hint of a smile and you returned it. "And sometimes...I just need to get out of the house. Go for a drive to clear my head."

"I get it," you said with a nod.

You finished screwing on the tops of the now-full pepper shakers and started to do the same with the ketchup, and then a second pair of hands was helping. Billy grabbed an empty inverted ketchup and set it aside before screwing on the lid of the full bottle.

"You don't have to do that."

Billy shrugged again. "For the coffee."

Once you both finished, you stood up from the table and lifted the salt and pepper tray. You walked to each booth and returned one of each to the tables and with a glance you saw that Billy was doing the same for the ketchups. You ducked your head and hid the smile on your lips. Tasks accomplished, you returned the tray and bus tub to their spots behind the counter.

"Thank you for the help."

"Thanks for the coffee," Billy replied, digging a hand into his tight jeans and fishing out his car keys. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah. See you around, Billy."

You followed him to the door. He stepped out into the cold and you turned the lock behind him. Watching as he slipped into the drivers seat, the growl of the engine roared to life and your gaze followed until you lost sight of brake lights around the bend.

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Billy's late-night visits were sporadic but frequent. Sometimes you caught a smile or two, other times Billy was quiet and withdrawn with his head hanging in an attempt to hide an injury. Your heart sank each time the second Billy showed up, but a selfish side of you were still just glad he had come around to the diner.

He seemed to stay awake a little more over time, making attempts at conversation whenever you came to refill his coffee cup. There were still a couple times a month when he dozed off and you nudged him awake. You continued to wonder why he preferred a dingy diner for sleep rather than his own bed at home, but it wasn't your place to ask.

As the clock came around to closing time, you often offered the last dregs of coffee to Billy for his drive home and maybe even the occasional piece of pie that crumbled when you tried to serve it to a customer. He always insisted to pay but you waved him off, claiming you'd eaten enough pie for a lifetime by now.

Billy didn't hesitate to assist you in any of your closing tasks, although you always assured him he didn't have to. You'd even approached him with the possibility of a job so he could get paid to do such menial tasks. He thanked you, but wasn't sure he could be reliable enough. Another curious piece of the puzzle from this mystery man.

One night, you carried the coffee pot to what you now referred to as Billy's table and slid into the seat across from him. Billy's arms were crossed on the tabletop and his handsome face was resting in the crook of his elbow. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your movement.

He sat up, glancing over at the clock above the counter. "Sorry. I should go."

A thought occurred to you. "I have a couch."

Billy's eyebrows shot up in surprise and confusion.

"I—I mean, if you're ever too tired to drive. You're welcome to crash on my couch. It's not far and I figure the odds aren't in your favor the more you drive drowsy down these dark roads," you muttered, avoiding his gaze as you filled his mug one last time.

He was quiet a moment, wrapping his hands around the cup as he gazed into the steaming, dark liquid. "Thank you. But I don't want to put you out. I should go home."

You nodded. "Of course. It wouldn't be a bother at all, but no pressure. The offer still stands."

Billy gave you a smile as you slipped out of the booth and set out to finish your end of night tasks.

You never mentioned the offer again in Billy's next few visits and then he didn't come around for a few weeks. Part of you was disappointed but then you hoped that maybe Billy had finally escaped whatever situation he kept running away from in the middle of the night. You resigned yourself to probably never see him again, until one night just as you were outside locking the door, about to head for home.

A familiar growling engine got louder and the blue Camaro turned into a parking spot in front of the diner. Billy stepped out of the car, moving slower than usual. As he stepped closer, the light of a nearby street lamp finally illuminated his features. Billy's left cheekbone was bright red and beginning to swell while a hand was holding the right side of his ribcage.

"Billy? Wha—"

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his bright blue eyes blinking repeatedly to fight back tears. "Is that couch offer still open?"

Startled a moment, you nodded. "I—yeah. Yes, of course. Let's go."

Double checking the door was locked, you stepped down the stairs and lead the way around the corner and across the street. A glance behind you told you Billy was following behind. You slowed your pace, letting him catch up and so he didn't have to struggle.

"I'm just up the street," you told him, pointing to a four-plex at the end of the next block.

Billy nodded, barely glancing up before he dropped his head again.

The pair of you walked on in silence a few more minutes before reaching the staircase that led up to your apartment. You climbed and Billy followed, pausing as you slipped your key into the lock and opened the door. A flick of the light switch illuminated your small but cozy apartment. You were suddenly embarrassed by the untidy state you had left it in this morning.

"Sorry, I should have cleaned up a little more..." you trailed off, grabbing a few magazines off the couch and pair of shoes from the entryway. "Come in. Make yourself at home."

You quickly shuffled down the short hallway and tossed a few more items into your bedroom. On the way back, you stopped at the small linen closet and grabbed a pillow and a couple blankets, then depositing them on the couch for Billy.

The man was still standing in the entryway, looking uncertain.

"Have a seat, Billy. If you want," you offered.

Walking into the adjacent kitchen, you grabbed a dish towel and a ziplock bag before filling it with ice. You also poured a glass of water and tucked the aspirin bottle under your arm before carrying it all into the small living room. Billy had finally taken off his jacket that was now draped over the couch's arm and the man was seated gingerly on the edge of the cushion. Depositing the glass of water and bottle of aspirin on the coffee table, you held out the ice pack toward Billy. He blinked a few times before accepting it.

"Is there anything else you need? There's not a lot in the fridge but you're welcome to anything in the kitchen. Bathroom's down the hall to the right. I have to be up early but don't feel like you have to rush out on my account. Just lock the knob on your way out," you told him, matter-of-factly.

You waited a moment, watching as Billy's gaze remained on the ice pack in his hands, the clink of ice the only sound in the room.

Billy finally spoke, his voice quiet. "You're not going to ask?"

Hesitating a moment, you took a seat in the chair perpendicular to the couch and weighed your words.

"Of course I wonder, but...I don't want you to feel like you have to share if you don't want to. You're welcome to stay here whether you share an explanation or not. I'm here to listen if or when you're ready."

Billy inhaled a shuddering breath and nodded, blinking rapidly at the moisture in his brilliant blue eyes. A rogue droplet trailed down his cheek before he raised the ice pack to the swollen cheek, staunching the tears.

"Why are you doing this?" Billy asked, his voice wavering with emotion. "For me?"

You let out a sigh, shrugging. "Because I can. It costs me nothing to help another person. Because...I've been in a similar situation and wish I had somewhere safe to go back then with no strings attached."

Billy nodded again, letting out a sniffle.

"Get some sleep, Billy," you requested, rising from your seat and heading to bed.

"Thank you."

You barely caught his soft words, but paused just a moment to look back and met his eye with a smile before drifting off to bed.

_______

In the morning, you crept quietly toward the bathroom and then the kitchen to make coffee, trying to avoid waking your guest. One glance at the empty couch told you Billy had already left, though. Your heart sank, hoping he had felt comfortable enough to at least get a little rest.

The blankets were folded already with the pillow on top. Walking to the sink, you spotted that the towel you gave him was now dry and the few dirty dishes you'd left in the sink were now washed and drying in the dish rack. Perhaps as a form of payment?

Shaking your head at the unnecessary but still appreciated action, you reached for the coffee maker and thought of the mysterious man who you'd let into your home last night. You still didn't know what in his life brought him into yours, but you couldn't help but be grateful.

And if he ever needed a place to rest again, well, you hoped he'd remember that you might just have an empty couch to offer and a listening ear.

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So? Thoughts?? I just wanna give Billy the biggest hug. :(((( He deserves the world. I have thoughts about more of this story and the reader's backstory. I might write it if there's interest. I'd love to hear any feedback or thoughts on this story. I'm still working on Sink or Swim, my Billy series but I hit a wall and decided to jump on this idea. Love you all.

https://youtu.be/970Lq2M_ld0