Chapter Text
Dustin wakes up with a dry tongue and a pounding behind his temples. Sticky sunlight is pouring through the windows, soaking him like honey, leaving him lethargic in the sheets. He blinks a few times. His skin is crawling with dried sweat, his shirt stuck to his stomach. There’s a crick in his neck from sleeping in an odd position. It must have been the pillow. These damn motel pillows are shit.
Shit.
The motel.
He groans, rolling over and tugging the sheets over his head. Maybe if he dozes back off, he can ignore all of his problems. His mind is fuzzy. He remembers crying? Lucas’s eyes. Max’s laugh. His tears, but Jane’s sobs. Water. That white bra with the purple lace that Jane likes so much, but Max’s hair falling over it. Yelling and glass and blood on his hands.
His stomach turns. He pushes himself out of bed.
It’s Monday, isn’t it? Dustin stumbles to the bathroom, trying to blink himself to a functioning state. It takes a few tries to turn on the water, but eventually he manages, splashing his face. He stares at himself in the mirror. Pale skin, shadowed eyes, a weight to the edges of his lips- he looks pallid. Disgusting. He splashes more water on his face.
He doesn’t have a change of clothes, so he strips off his and fills the bathtub, dropping them in. He uses the cheap soap at the sink to scrub himself. He can’t meet his reflection’s eyes.
When his clothes are wrung out and dripping dry over the shower bar, he lays on the bed, flipping absentmindedly through the Bible. Dustin has never been much for religion. His dad was Jewish, anyway. His mum grew up Catholic, he thinks, but she never talks about it. She doesn’t talk about growing up very much. He only knows the scraps she drops when the margaritas get too strong.
“What, then, shall we say in response to these things?” he reads aloud. “If God is for us, who can be against us?” He scoffs, flipping the page. “The Romans, historically,” he answers. “And theologically, the Devil, as far as I’m aware.”
He flips back to Genesis and makes it through half of Numbers before his clothes are dry. His eyes hurt from the tiny script. No offence to God, but he’s not feeling inclined to ever open a Bible again.
His hands are trembling slightly as he punches in a number on the payphone. It rings in his ear, almost mocking. Tinny. Raspy. On and on and-
“Hello?”
He slams the receiver down.
Shit.
---
It’s nearly three by the time he gets home. He stops at the end of his street, considering, and rolls down his window. Peter’s car is still in the driveway. He sighs, rolls his window up, and rolls right on past.
“Dustin. Holy shit, man.” Troy pulls him inside immediately. “Holy shit.” He pushes Dustin down onto the couch. “You look like shit. I hate you. Stay.” And then he’s flitting back to the kitchen. James waves from the other end of the couch.
Dustin waves back. “He seems hyper today.”
“Anxious,” James replies. Dustin glances down at his lap.
Soft footsteps come wandering in and stop short. “Dustin, oh my God.” His head is barely up before Allie is beside him, frowning. “Are you alright?” She picks at his shirt. Her eyes narrow. “You smell like that stupid motel soap.”
Dustin blinks. “You recognise the scent of motel soap?”
“It’s what my dad always smells like.” Dustin winces and opens his mouth to apologise, but she waves him off. “It’s fucking, like, lavender and pine? Something weird like that. Very recognisable.”
“Why were you at a motel, Henderson?” James interrupts.
Dustin twists his hands in his lap. He doesn’t answer.
Troy comes back in and pushes at James’s shoulder. “Move over,” he mutters.
James doesn’t even look up at him. “No.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“You’re such an asshole. Allie-”
“I’m not moving,” she says, smiling sweetly at him. “There’s already room.” Troy glowers in response, though it morphs to a yelp as James yanks him down in between them. Dustin snickers quietly. He earns the glare this time. “You’re such an idiot,” Allie says, her voice fond.
“Why can’t you just sit on James’s lap or something? There’s not room for four people on this- why are you two looking at each other like that?” Troy glances between Allie and James suspiciously. They keep grinning at each other. “What are you plot- James!”
James sets his chin on his friend’s shoulder. “What?” he asks. He blinks innocently. The arms he’d used to pull Troy into his lap are around his friend’s waist, holding him there. Troy’s mouth has dropped half open with something like disbelief. He’s bright pink.
Allie laughs and shifts over, though she does tangle her hand with Dustin’s. She’s trying not to make him feel like a fourth wheel, he’s pretty sure. He squeezes her hand to show that he appreciates it and earns a smile in return. Her head is leant onto James’s shoulder. Her other hand slips into Troy’s.
James kisses the top of her head. “So, Henderson,” he says. “You gonna talk now?”
Dustin hums. “Don’t think so, no,” he replies. “Not much to tell, though. I just-” He’s interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Footsteps coming rushing down the hall. He recognises them somehow and manages to shoot a betrayed look over to Troy before his arms are full. Max rockets straight onto him, her arms winding around her neck as her forehead presses against his temple. Her knees are bony pressed against his hips, but he won’t complain. He can feel her rapid heartbeat on his chest, her breath on his ear, her skin on his skin- how could he complain of anything right now? “Hey.”
“Hey?” she repeats. “God, you fucking idiot--”
“So I’ve been told.”
She groans, swatting at his shoulder. “You’re the worst. We were so worried. Mike skipped today to look for you.” Dustin opens his mouth to point out that it’s Monday, so what’s to say Mike wouldn’t have skipped anyway, honestly, but Max is already ranting some more, so he closes it again. “Jane called my house--my house! She held a conversation with my mom!-- to ask if you were okay, and I had to tell her I didn’t know! You made me upset Jane!”
Fuzzily, Dustin can remember something. A phone call, both of them crying, and something… there’s something just out of reach, something he can’t quite grasp. A knot of unease settles in the pit of his stomach. “Max--”
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m mad! I’m mad at you!”
“Yes, that’s quite clear--”
She huffs and leans back enough to put her hand over his mouth. “Hi, Troy,” she says conversationally. “Lap gang, amirite?”
“Ey, gang,” he replies. He looks much more comfortable in his seat now.
“It’s a short people thing, I guess,” Allie says offhandedly, and both Max and Troy instantly flare up, launching straight into defending themselves. James and Dustin exchange dry looks behind Allie’s head and settle in for the chaos.
His head still aches a little, and the yelling really doesn’t help. Max is flushed bright pink, her hands smacking at Allie’s shoulder and Troy’s head (he’s pretty sure that’s just for fun, not because Troy did anything). Dustin keeps his arms around her to hold her steady, because she’ll end up on the floor otherwise, flailing like that. Despite the pounding in his temples, a smile sneaks up onto his face. God, she’s cute.
“Max, did you--”
Dustin’s head snaps up at the voice. Lucas has frozen in his tracks at the door. Carefully, Dustin offers a weak wave.
James hauls Troy farther into his lap, correctly assuming that Max would clamber halfway onto Allie to keep harassing him, and nods in Lucas’s direction. Lucas gives him a tight smile and grabs Dustin by the wrist, yanking him into the hall.
“Woah, woah, careful--”
He’s cut off by Lucas’s shoulder. It’s awkward for a moment, because the hug is kind of tight and violent, but he adjusts, wrapping his arms around Lucas in return. A face presses into his hair. Hot breath shudders across his ear. “Fuck you, man.” Lucas’s voice is low, and rough, and oh, oh, Dustin isn’t sure what exactly he’s feeling, but it’s a lot. There’s this pit in his stomach, carving him open with this heat, his skin prickling as it flushes all up his neck.
His voice cracks when he tries to speak. “Sorry.”
“You fucking scared me.”
“I know.” He shifts so that he can pull him a little closer. “I’m sorry.” Lucas sighs. The sound is trembling slightly. Dustin feels his chest fill with a soft warmth, sunshine in his veins, even as regret dims the radiance. Lucas really was shaken up, huh? “I love you.” He’s not sure why he says it right now. It’s burning at the end of his tongue, aching to be whispered, screamed, shouted, sobbed--he wants to say it in every way possible. He wants to love his best friend in that kind of intense, all-encompassing way. He wants Lucas to be his entire world.
“I love you too,” Lucas whispers hoarsely. “God, I love you so much, you fucking idiot.” Dustin laughs, but it’s quiet.
It’s a good moment. He likes this moment. He could live in it forever.
---
They all end up in Troy’s room, for some reason, and then Troy acts very surprised when James finds a bottle of vodka and fools absolutely no one, and Dustin relaxes on the bed with his head on Lucas’s chest and his arms around Max’s waist, watching lazily as Allie and James attempt to talk their idiot out of chugging the vodka. It’s a nice way to spend a Monday afternoon.
“You’re literally going to die--”
“It won’t be the whole thing! Just some--”
“You’re so fucking stupid, oh my God.”
Max snorts. “I say do it,” she says. Allie and James immediately erupt into even louder protest, scrambling to yank the bottle out of Troy’s hands. He’s laughing too hard to stop them.
There’s a knock at the door. “Hey, kid, have you--”
Troy’s laughter stops immediately. “Yes!”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve protests from the other side. “Jesus Christ. Did you find Dustin?”
“No,” Troy replies. “I’ll tell you when we do, now fuck off.”
Steve groans. “Fine! Fine. I was going to buy you dinner, but whatever!” His footsteps stalk away down the hall. Troy scowls at the door.
Max is stiff against him. Dustin kisses her head out of instinctual comfort, and she lets out a shaky breath that relaxes her, just a bit. “Why’d you lie?”
Troy messes with his sleeve. “No reason,” he mumbles. James sets the bottle aside and silently reaches out. Troy stares at him warily for a moment, but crawls into his arms, allowing himself to be tugged close. James kisses his temple softly. Allie settles against her boyfriend’s side.
Max is still frowning, but she just holds on tighter to Dustin. “Do you ever wonder if James is dating Allie as a front?” she asks Lucas. She doesn’t bother to whisper. That’s not the Max Mayfield way.
“A front for what?” Lucas asks, ignoring the way Allie starts laughing and James splutters something offended. Max stares at Lucas like he’s an idiot, then looks pointedly at the way Troy has curled into his friend’s chest. “Oh, for being queer?”
Dustin’s breath gets a little short. Fuck.
“Oh, shut up,” Troy says. “Even if he were, I’d be a terrible choice.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Height difference, baby! Couldn’t kiss him if I tried!”
Max and Allie both lose their shit at that. Troy grins. The sight of it eases Dustin’s panic just enough to breathe, and he snorts. “Could kiss him right now,” Lucas points out. “‘Cause he’s sitting down.”
Troy gives him a suspicious look. “Pervert,” he accuses. Lucas shrugs.
James sighs a little. It’s very smooth the way he does it, slipping his fingers under Troy’s chin; the way Troy’s head tilts back is instinctual, and then James’s head bends, and they kiss, and it’s as simple as that. It’s just a kiss, but they do it so easily. Dustin aches at the sight. He wonders if Lucas and Max kiss like that, and then he stops wondering, because it worsens the ache.
Allie and Max keep laughing. Lucas’s eyes have widened.
“Happy now?” James asks.
“Yeah.”
“I was asking Lucas, Troy.”
Troy blinks. “Oh.” Allie pats his hand.
Lucas clears his throat. “Yeah. That, uh… that was cool. Um.”
Troy snorts. “What, do you want one too?” he asks drily.
“No! I mean, I- maybe? I don’t- not from you, but-”
Max rolls slightly, her body melding easily into the side of Lucas’s, her laugh muffled into his shoulder. “You’re so cute,” she says, her smile bright enough to relax all of Dustin’s discomfort.
Lucas kisses her forehead, and then his head tilts, but he pauses. “I guess a girl kiss isn’t as impressive as a queer kiss,” he mumbles, and then-
Well, and then his fingers are under Dustin’s chin, and Dustin leans in before he even thinks, and Lucas kisses him.
Lucas kisses him.
Lucas’s mouth is soft and gentle and molds into Dustin’s easier than it should. It’s not hesitant or awkward or anything like Dustin’s had before. It’s just him and Lucas and slightly chapped skin, and it’s short, and it’s sweet, and then it’s over.
Lucas kisses him. And then it’s over.
Everything’s silent for a moment. Dustin’s eyes skitter from Lucas’s face- he doesn’t want to see the look on it yet- he finds Max’s gaze on instinct. She’s wide-eyed, but caught in a smile, and it only widens as Dustin stares at her over Lucas’s shoulder. There’s a pink flush over her face that makes her freckles stand out. She’s wearing her tinted chapstick, and her lips are shiny and dark pink and slightly parted, and-
“Good job,” Troy says.
Dustin’s sense of reality slams into him all at once. His eyes leap away from Max’s lips like a horse on fire, and he makes a face at Troy. “Shut up, fag.”
“Dustin!” Lucas shoves him. “No!”
“I’m sorry, I’m kidding, I’m kidding-” Troy is laughing hysterically, his head falling backwards onto James’s shoulder. James presses his kiss to his hair. It’s subtle, but Dustin sees the way Troy’s shoulders relax, and he blinks. “I think.”
“You think?” Lucas’s eyebrows are furrowed. “How can you-”
Troy has stopped laughing. His hands are tense against his knees. James’s grip tightens around his friend’s waist. “What do you mean?” he asks, and his voice is quiet, a bit low. There’s something hovering in the back of the sound, half of a threat left unfinished.
Dustin swallows hard. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. It was a joke.” Troy’s fingers tremble slightly. “It was a joke.”
James’s eyes search his face. “Okay.”
“Maybe I should go.” Dustin goes to sit up, but Lucas catches his wrist.
“Hey. Don’t-” He hesitates. He lets go. “Don’t,” he repeats. The room hovers in a silence that feels like a weight, and Dustin can’t quite breathe under it. Lucas’s eyes are earnest, if wary; the warmth of his fingers still lingers on Dustin’s wrist, heavy and bruising. Max’s arms have half-wrapped around herself, hair falling over her face; Allie’s hand is on Troy’s knee, and her eyes are on Dustin, and her mouth is sort of twitching. He offers a timid smile back.
A timid smile doesn’t fix the whole mess, even if she returns it. Dustin clears his throat, glancing down. “Uh- for the record,” he tries, “I think threesomes are pretty hot.”
The silence continues. Regret swells up, and panic jolts through his heart, making his throat dry, his shoulders hitch up-
James snorts. “Holy fuck, Henderson,” he says, and that’s all it takes for Troy to start laughing again. “Holy fuck, dude-”
“I-”
“No, no, you don’t get to defend yourself, what the fuck was that-”
Lucas’s face has split into a grin again. Somehow, that’s all it takes for Dustin’s spine to release its weight, and he collapses easily back into the mattress. His leg hooks into Lucas’s. Lucas’s foot taps against his. It feels like a promise, sort of.
Carefully, he reaches up. His fingers catch in Max’s hair, nice and gentle, as he sweeps it back, tucking it behind her ear for her. “I’m sorry,” he says. It’s genuine. “I should have though that through.”
Max hums. She hasn’t relaxed back into the same comfort as the rest of them quite yet. Her hand comes up to catch Dustin’s, their fingers snagging together next to her cheek. She presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “It’s just…” Her eyes slip up to trace over Troy’s face.
Lucas’s grin fades down. “Max?” Unease trickles through Dustin’s veins as Max purses her lips lightly.
Her words burst out like a wooden dam shattering, sudden and sharp. “We wouldn’t mind, you know.”
Troy stops. His head cocks to the side. For a moment, Dustin braces him for the dreaded silence swarming over them again, but then Troy says, “Okay,” nice and simple. Just like that.
That’s a confession of a kind, isn’t it?
“Me too,” he says, very suddenly. “I- me too.”
“I know.”
“Shut the fuck up, Harrington.”
Troy laughs. “Aw, come on! What about Freddie Ro-”
“I hate you!” Dustin seizes the pillow from under Lucas’s head, smacking Troy in the face. “I hate you! Fucking-”
“Well, you’re a fucking fag!”
“Well, so are you!”
“Fuck yeah I am!”
“Fuck!”
It’s Max that catches Dustin around the waist and tugs him back, but it’s Lucas that wraps him in close to his chest and holds him there. “No more violence,” Max coos, patting his cheek. “No violence for baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” Dustin protests. He can feel his face burning.
Max smirks and kisses his forehead. “You’re my baby.”
It takes him a second to choke out a laugh, because at first his breath all leaves him and he’s left with the feeling of drowning, caught up in the split second of contact. He blinks to get his head back and sticks his tongue out at her. She returns it without hesitation.
It’s not as simple as that, obviously. His heart is still beating from the admission, and she still doesn’t know that she’s the reason he goes breathless, and he still doesn’t understand why it’s so easy to relax against Lucas. Jane made all this so much easier. God, he misses her.
You’re my favorite.
He’s not sure why the thought pops into his head all of the sudden, poking through all the worry, but it shines like sunlight through stained glass, and everything turns rose colored. He looks over the room, over the six of them crammed into this little space, at the way they’re all tangled up and laughing, and he aches with the kind of love that doesn’t make him breathless. The kind of love that eases his breathing into gentleness.
Yeah. You’re my favorite.