#i think steve and nancy could become friends again one day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poguesofthebau · 1 year

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summary: steve wants nothing more than to ask you out. however, constantly being under the eyes of nancy, robin, dustin, and the rest of the kids makes it nearly impossible for him. read part two here :)

word count: 6.8k pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader

"you know, i've been hearing a lot of boo-hooing from you. you, steve harrington, who has the perfect solution to all your problems right in front of your face."

steve scoffed, rolling his eyes at his friend as he tossed a stack of returned films into a bin behind the counter. he internally grimaced as he thought about the fact that he'd be emptying that same bin back onto the shelves tomorrow morning, likely whilst having that same conversation with robin, both more or less against his will. "don't start with this again, robin."

"i'm not the one who started it! you did, with your gushy, lovey-dovey, pining, bedroom eyes every time you look at y/n!" her hands flailed around her as she spoke, dramatizing her words in that way only robin could. "seriously, i don't know how she hasn't caught on yet. because, of course that's not the only way you make your feelings totally obvious. every time you see her-- whenever your lives aren't in immediate danger, i mean-- she's the only person in the room you actually outwardly enjoy speaking to. you randomly bring her up in every other conversation. you call her sweetheart without even thinking about it. and don't think i don't realize that half the time you're at dustin's house it's for her. not to mention you haven't gone on a date in months, and not because you can't get one! it's like--" robin scoffed, a mixture of realization, amusement, and astonishment-- "it's like you've found the girl you've been looking for, but you're too chicken to actually ask her out!"

"first of all, the sweetheart thing? yeah-- that was one, maybe two times. second of all, there are only so many girls in hawkins. how do you know there's not a deficit of girls nearby that i haven't already dated?" robin tried to interject, knowing that his second reason was total bullshit, but steve raised his voice as he continued, preventing her from speaking. "anddd third of all! the rest of that can all be justified by the fact that y/n is my friend!"

"friend schmend. the two of you are going to end up together, i can feel it. mark my words, harrington!"

"i'll mark them if you stop repeating them," steve grumbled, returning to the task at hand as robin hummed in satisfaction.

"so there's really nothing going on? like... nothing, nothing?"

steve's day was becoming a miserable cycle. first it was robin. now it was nancy. he was beginning to consider going home and hiding from his remaining obligations for the day, but lucas was starting five in the basketball game that night, so he really had no choice. so there he was in the hawkins high gym, grimacing as his ex grilled him about the girl he was in love with. moreover, steve had thought he was secretly in love. apparently he hadn't been doing too great a job of keeping things under wraps. so not only was he going to have to spend another night with all of his friends pretending he wasn't in love with you, but he also had to listen to them as they threw it in his face that he was.

so, yes, steve was miserable.

"nothing is going on, nancy," steve stated flatly, eyes scanning the area near the entrance. he knew that if you showed up, she would quit it (nancy was one of the few of the bunch who at least halted her interrogations when you were around to potentially overhear). robin was a section over in the gym bleachers, clad in her band uniform and gripping her instrument, too focused on vickie's presence beside her to notice steve and nancy sitting so close-by. although he was currently missing the constant subject changes throughout conversations with robin, he was glad she was too distracted to join nancy in harassing him. mike was standing on the sidelines with lucas while he stretched, the boys laughing at something a grinning lucas had said. the rest of you had yet to arrive. in other words, there was nothing stopping nancy from taking her turn to question him about his nonexistent relationship with you. he was trapped.

he was also saving the seat to his right for you, fully prepared to face the repercussions of that choice if someone realized it too soon. regardless, he was praying you showed up before anyone else so he could avoid having to literally fight over the empty foot of space on the bench. regardless of where you ended up sitting, steve just wanted you there. he wanted to be near you, and to hear you laugh at dustin's silly basketball jokes, and to watch your expression shift from suspenseful to proud any time lucas shot and scored. he knew you'd turn to him and grin for no reason at some point, like you always did. he would be stunned by how effortlessly beautiful you were, but he'd just blush and grin back without a second thought. you'd make him happy in the ways that mattered. he could never be miserable with you there.

"okay, well... do you want something to be going on?"

steve turned to nancy at that, brows ruffling as he eyed her. "what do you mean? nance, have you been talking to robin? because, seriously, she's nuts. like, out of her mind--"

"no, no, no," nancy interrupted. her hair swirled around her head as she shook it, further emphasizing her answer. "i haven't been talking to robin. i've just noticed the two of you spending more time together than usual, and... you would make sense together. i mean, she makes you happy, and you make her happy. it's pretty easy to see that much."

steve paused at that, eyes flickering to the door one more time before carefully selecting his next words. his tone was less harsh this time, having a better understanding now of what nancy had been trying to do. she was encouraging him. "we're just friends, nance. you're right about her making me happy, but we're just friends."

nancy started to respond, offering him some hopeful nonsense about giving it a little bit of time, but steve was no longer paying her any attention. his eyes had finally found what they'd been searching for, and the sound of his heart thudding in his chest suddenly drowned out nancy's voice. you were there, and you looked perfect. your outfit was nothing special, really-- he'd seen you wear the same thing plenty of times before-- but steve still felt a wave of awe wash over him when he caught sight of you, a smile creeping onto his face. you hadn't noticed him yet, your eyes beginning to search the crowd before suddenly turning to look at max, who'd walked into the gym with you. you laughed at something she said, presumably a snide comment about the jocks or the antsy crowd or whatever else max was unimpressed by upon arrival, and steve's breath hitched in his throat at the amused expression on your face. a second later, though, you found him in the crowd. your eyebrows raised when the two of you made eye contact, and your hand reflexively shot up to wave at the shaggy-haired boy. he returned the gesture, abruptly snapping out of his y/n-induced trance. when he glanced back at nancy, she had a smug, knowing look on her face, clearly entertained, but said nothing.

"hey there," you said, dropping into the empty spot that steve had been so ready to fight someone over. mike had parted ways with lucas and joined you and max on your walk to the bleachers, and they seated themselves in front of you as you greeted steve and nancy.

"hey, y/n. how's it going?" his tone was calm and balanced as he spoke to you, concentrating hard on remaining as nonchalant toward you as he would the others. he had to play it cool; nancy was watching.

you let out a puff of air, chuckling a little at the question. "as good as it could go, i guess. dustin's feeling particularly unruly today, so it's been an interesting afternoon. but little brother can't dish out anything i can't handle, so let there be basketball!"

he smiled at that, a laugh passing his lips as he fell into conversation with you. this was what he'd needed all day. just a simple, uninterrupted five minutes talking to you. "where is the little demon? no way he's missing this game when he told me i had to be here."

"bathroom. he was too busy torturing me with science facts to pee before we left the house to pick max up, and then he was too 'immobilized by the need to urinate' that he couldn't get out of the car and use max's bathroom. i don't think i've ever seen him move as fast as he did getting out of the car after i parked outside-- dusty boy had to go."

"maybe that's his karma," steve suggested, prompting laughter from both of you. "huge ego, tiny bladder."

a few minutes later, dustin was emerging from the hallways. he suspiciously squinted at steve as he walked in, having recently noticed that his best friend had been paying his big sister a lot of attention in the last few weeks. he had tried his hardest to remain calm about the situation, but he was already panicking. what was he supposed to do if steve dated you, somehow fucked it up, and you ended up hating him? how would dustin's relationship with steve fare if he broke your heart?

at the same time, though, he wanted you both to be happy-- or to at least get the chance to be happy. in fact, he would love for you to be happy with each other. two of the people he loved the most in the world ending up together seemed poetic in ways that dustin couldn't find the wording for. the best analogy he could come up with was a comparison to peanut butter and jelly, but he knew that was too cliche to voice. so he didn't mention anything, not you and steve or peanut butter and jelly, and just sat back and watched. some days he watched optimistically. maybe after today they'll realize they're perfect for each other. other days, he watched like a hawk, a childish urge to kick steve in the groin for looking at his sister like that festering inside him. i'm going to knock him out. i'm going to give him two black eyes-- that'll teach him a lesson. but he never did anything. just watched and waited.

in the last few weeks, watching without commenting had gotten more difficult than dustin ever expected. one advantage to being your brother and steve's best friend was that he noticed things some of the others might not. he saw steve taking extra long strides to make it to the door first, opening it for you as you continued rambling about some meaningless topic, any time the two of you were walking through a threshold together. he saw your eyes roll the slightest bit when steve mentioned a girl he'd gone on a date with a few months back. he saw steve waiting in his car to make sure you got inside alright after he dropped you off-- something he never did for dustin. he saw you smoothing down your hair before getting out of the car to sit besides steve at the basketball game. he saw how the two of you saw each other.

so instead of continuing to give steve dirty looks as he approached, dustin sucked in a breath of air, forced himself to change perspectives, and made some adjustments to his facial expression.

when he finished glaring at steve, his eyes locked with nancy, who returned eye contact and gave him a sympathetic smile. she understood being protective of your sibling, and she knew what the fear of losing steve felt like. but she also had a strong feeling that things would turn out going well for all three of you; at this point, your quickly-blooming relationship with steve had been a long time coming. of course, she couldn't communicate all of that knowledge through two seconds of eye contact, but dustin at least saw that she understood.

"hellooo, people!" dustin grinned at you, steve, and nancy as he seated himself between mike, whom he amicably bumped shoulders with, and max, whom he wiggled his eyebrows at. each of you acknowledged his arrival just before a whistle blew. lucas and four of his teammates made their way onto the court, and dustin felt a wave of relief upon having something else to focus on. "let's watch some basketball!"

"you did amazing, lucas!"

"oh, yeah! super graceful out there, just like i taught you. way to make me proud, kid."

you snorted, lightly whacking steve for somehow finding a way to make lucas's success about himself. "very humble, harrington."

nancy, mike, dustin and max followed close behind you and steve, congratulating lucas on the team’s win as they stepped up beside you. the game had ended 20 minutes ago, with hawkins securing the win. lucas had been granted some time to hit the showers and say his goodbyes to his teammates before meeting back up with the rest of you by the gymnasium doors. the school was far from empty, a plethora of people still lingering around the gym and in the parking lot, and the bustling seemed to comfort you all.

“okay, who's getting a ride home from me?” the kids began chattering over one another in response, and the only way you deciphered their chorus of answers was by mentally noting whether they'd pointed at you or steve. you'd chauffeured dustin and max on your way, and nancy, mike, and lucas had carpooled with steve, but lucas was now planning on riding home with you (assuredly to spend more time with max). in the bustle of the conversation, you heard mike say he'd left his bike at lucas's house the day before, meaning he'd be joining whoever lucas left with so he could get his usual mode of transportation back. this left steve riding with nancy, and you dropping off mike, lucas and max on your way home with dustin.

steve was still hyper-focused on behaving normally, resisting the urge to look at you with what robin had described as his "gushy, lovey-dovey, pining, bedroom eyes" too frequently. at this point in the night, he was regressing to the sullen mood that he'd begun that day with. he knew that he'd have to part ways with you within a few minutes, and that was enough to ruin his night. because of that, he didn't really care who he had to drive home, or that nancy would be his only passenger, or how your mood change entirely when you realized that nancy would be his only passenger.

you knew you should've held it together better. unbeknownst to steve, the kids had been on your back, too. dustin would quiz you about your day whenever you spent ample time away from him, prying until you coughed up every detail of any time you'd spent alone with steve. there had been one evening a few weeks earlier when max and lucas were on their way to use the pool at steve's house, and they'd seen your car pulling out of steve's driveway as they turned onto his street. dustin wasn't with you. the next day, max showed up at your doorstep to accuse you of being in a secret relationship with your friend. you thought you’d convinced her otherwise at first, but three weeks later she told you she was still waiting for the day you two “finally came clean.” nancy told you she’d overheard mike telling el over the phone that you and steve “still haven’t gotten together,” which then led to a very awkward conversation between you and nancy about how she wouldn't mind if you wanted to get with steve despite their history.

you knew what it felt like to be scrutinized in the exact same ways steve was, and you were just as antsy as him when they were around to observe.

you should’ve held it together better. but you slipped.

“okay, great. you and me, nance. all ready? let’s hit the road.” he dropped his hands onto her shoulders, beginning to steer her toward the exit when he was halted by your reaction.

what did you do in response to steve’s urgency to leave with nancy? you scoffed.

for a split second, you thought maybe, maybe, no one heard it.

unfortunately for you, everyone heard it. (admittedly, it was sort of loud. arguably more of a guffaw than a scoff.) steve froze, his hands falling from nancy's frame as he twisted back around to quizzically look at the source of the noise. the others followed suit, all peering at you before exchanging their own encoded glances with each other.

so... maybe 'slip' was an understatement. maybe you completely threw yourself under the bus, let the cat out of the bag, spilled the beans, all of it. totally exposed yourself. if they had an inkling before, they had proof now.

after a moment of tense silence passed over the group, steve looked at you, surprised and unnerved by the noise you'd made. he opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, but you were already moving on, turning to speak to dustin. “let’s go, little man. round up our passengers for me.” and you spun on your heel and walked out of the high school.

as you walked out, dustin immediately turned to steve, his finger extended until it was a mere inch away from steve’s face. “you,” he said threateningly. “you idiot! you absolute goddamn imbecile! son of a bitch!”

as dustin threw halfhearted insults at the older boy, the kids behind him groaned in mortification. “steveeeee,” max complained. “you’re better than this!”

lucas snickered, looking at max as he gestured to steve. “what makes you think he’s better than this? look at him! he has no clue what he’s done!”

“oh, he knows what he’s done,” dustin grumbled. “he’s done something to upset my sister. and for that, i might have to kill him.”

steve was just beginning to defend himself when robin came bounding down the halls, a duffel bag slung over her arm and an unknowing grin on her face. “hey! i’m so glad i caught you before you left! what are the odds you could give your old friend, coworker, fellow monster-slaying warrior robin a ride home?”

she tried to further explain the circumstances that led to her losing her original ride, but she was cut off by the kids' roars. they spoke over one another, and all at once robin heard, “oh, thank god!” “perfect timing!” “you’re a little late.” “jesus christ!”

her expression shifted to confusion, finally sensing that she was out of the loop on something. she looked to steve and nancy, opening her mouth to question the strong reaction from the younger crowd when steve cut her off. “yeah, i can give you a ride. c’mon, we were just leaving.” he looked pointedly at the kids as he made the latter claim, swaying them to keep their mouths shut for the remaining three minutes that they’d be together.

it was a fifteen minute ride from the school to max's house. the redhead was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, subtly glancing over at you every few moments as the three boys bickered in the back seat. she hadn't said anything since you started driving, but the backseat occupants had been whispering essentially the entire time. you had turned on the car radio when the awkward silence and coughing became too much to bear (which, to be precise, was within two minutes of the ride), and they'd immediately began to quietly theorize behind you.

during the last five minutes of the ride, the whispering intensified noticeably. you still couldn't make out their exact words, but all three of them had raised their volumes enough that you could decipher which voice was which. you'd had just about enough of their poor attempts to hide the fact that they were talking about you, and you were just about to give them a piece of your mind. before you reached your tipping point, however, max cleared her throat and spoke to you in her own low voice. "robin ended up going with steve and nancy, by the way," she muttered, mentally noting the muscles in your jaw slightly relax when you processed what she said. you threw her a grateful look, letting out a barely-noticeable sigh of relief. max paused, gauging your mood before adding something else. "you know he likes you, right?"

your eyes moved to the rear view mirror, peering at the boys' reflections to confirm that they were still preoccupied with their own conversation before responding quietly. "i know."

steve knew from the moment he opened his eyes the next day that it was going to be another day from hell. he groaned aloud when his alarm clock woke him up, his nose scrunching as he slammed an open palm on top of the machine to silence it. when his bedroom reverted to a state of heavy silence, steve tossed the same hand over his face, mentally recapping the events of the previous day as he prepared to get out of bed. "and you didn't go after her," he grumbled to himself, tossing the comforter off his body and shifting into a sitting position on the side of the bed. "god damn moron didn't go after her."

yesterday he'd had to listen to the girls-- his peers, people his own age-- question his relationship with you without any concrete evidence. today, he was going to have to fight for his life against dustin for ruining your night, disappointing you, not finally confessing his feelings for you instead of trying to run off with nancy, and whatever else dustin felt like drudging up in the midst of the singular discrepancy. worst of all, steve felt like he deserved it. he felt like shit for making you feel anything other than adored and appreciated, and he had already spent plenty of time beating himself up over it when he got home the night before.

no matter how he felt, he couldn't shake the anxiety he felt over you being upset with him. granted, he wasn't even sure that you still were upset with him-- maybe this only seemed like a big deal in the moment, and he was actually already forgiven-- but the uncertainty was enough to make his stomach flip a few times whenever he considered the possibility.

he knew he had to talk to you as soon as he could. he had a shift at the video store that morning, which was why his obnoxious alarm had sounded so much earlier than he would've preferred, but the next thing on his agenda for the day would be to find you and apologize-- grovel, if necessary, until he was sure you weren't harboring any hard feelings toward him. he'd probably have to hear a lot of commentary from everyone else before he got to talk to you, but he doubted anyone could be much harder on him than he was already being with himself. so he threw on his work uniform, blocking out a memory of the time you told him he looked "magnificent" in that green vest, and hopped in the car. just a few hours and he could talk to you.

it took the kids longer to show up than steve expected. half of him thought dustin might be standing at the front desk with his arms folded across his chest when steve walked through the door. but no, they didn't get there until three hours into his shift. he'd already restocked the shelves, rung out a handful of customers, and taken his thirty-minute lunch break by the time he heard the bustle of the 4 freshmen entering. the first coherent thing he heard was lucas's whisper, asking, "do you see him anywhere?" he popped his head above the shelf he'd been reorganizing in an attempt to pass the time, throwing the group a hesitant smile as they spotted him in the far corner of the store. when he joined them in the open area beside the register, steve opened his mouth to greet them only to be immediately cut off by dustin.

"have you talked to her?" he drilled, a stern tone behind his voice to match the demanding look in his eye.

"no," steve replied hesitantly, not sure of whether or not the boy was planning on allowing him to elaborate further. his eyes darted around the small crowd before him, taking in max's curious gaze and the amused expressions lucas and mike wore before flickering back to dustin. the curly-haired boy was glaring at him expectantly, and steve rushed to fill the silence before dustin could yell at him again. "i was planning on going over to see her after my shift."

dustin squinted at steve, inspecting his face for any sign that he might've been lying. he found no evidence of falsehood, nodding slowly as he mentally lined up his next set of questions. as dustin was thinking, max piped up. "do you feel remorse? i mean, do you fully grasp the depth of what you did?"

"hey, i'm asking the questions here," dustin said pointedly to max. he blinked a few times, then turned back to steve. "well, answer her!"

steve stuttered a bit as he responded, surprised by the question despite how prepared for this confrontation he'd thought he was. "uh, i-- what-- well, yeah, i feel remorse, but it's not like i did it on purpose. it was-- i didn't mean to make her upset."

"you were drooling over nancy! literally rushing to get out of there when the only thing motivating you was the idea of being alone in a car with your ex-girlfriend! literally!"

"okay, when you put it like that, it sounds really bad," steve admitted dubiously, wincing at the reminder that you probably thought he had feelings for nancy again. "but that wasn't actually what was going on!"

dustin didn't seem to care what steve had to say to defend himself, simply moving on to address his second issue. "and not just that, but you've also been stringing her along for months now, acting all flirty and romantic and obsessed with her, basically going on dates all the time, and then denying that anything is going on between you two!"

"that is not true," steve contested.

"dude, that's kinda true," lucas interjected.

at the exact same time, mike added, "yeah, you definitely do all that stuff."

"we don't go on dates! we hang out! y/n would tell you the same thing-- because we're friends, and nobody is stringing anybody along."

"that doesn't explain why she got so upset at you wanting to spend time alone with nancy, though," max remarked. steve groaned at this, growing tired of talking in circles yet again about his relationship with you. max's eyebrows raised at the older boy, eyes slightly widening in a combination of false innocence and genuine interest. "i'm just saying."

"exactly! if nothing's going on with you, why is she so worried about you and nancy? and--"

"okay, fine!" suddenly steve was interrupting dustin, and all eyes were now expectantly trained on his noticeably fed-up expression. "you're right! i have feelings for your sister, and i'm pretty sure she has feelings for me too, but i haven't been able to ask her out properly yet because i have a bunch of people watching my every move and asking me questions about her and us at all times! so maybe if you would all stop breathing down my neck, then i would be able to figure out a way to ask her out without seeming like a total creep!”

silence fell over the group, all of them stunned that steve had finally confessed the truth. the kids hadn't thought steve would give his big secret up that easily, and even steve himself had intended to keep his emotions under wraps for a while longer. he at least wanted to tell you about how he felt before he told dustin. but, clearly, that was no longer an option.

just as it began to set in steve's mind that he'd just confessed his true feelings to dustin, max, lucas, and mike, the front door swung open and another person stepped foot in the store.

it was you.

"uh, hi everyone," you chuckled nervously when you walked in. you held a vhs tape in your left hand, the other holding the strap of your bag to secure it on your shoulder. the tension in the air was immediately apparent to you; it wasn't often that these kids were stunned into silence, so you recognized the expressions well. no one flinched to respond when you walked in, but they seemed caught when they saw you. steve, on the other hand, was visibly clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact with the others. he was unmistakably distraught, and the tight-lipped smile he threw you as you entered did nothing to convince you otherwise.

you took a few steps toward them, just about to blatantly ask what you'd walked into when max spoke up. "hi y/n," she stepped in front of the others as she spoke, meeting you halfway between their position and yours. a second after she greeted you, her mouth moved again, releasing no sound. you made out what she mouthed clear as day: steve is mad. her eyes held a sort of amazed-but-apprehensive look, and it clicked in your mind what must've happened. dustin. max assumed you'd caught on then, subtly sending you another hint. "returning a movie?"

"yeah," you said, feigning a smile as your eyes flickered behind the girl. dustin had now snapped out of his stunned silence, obviously observing closely as you made your next move. mike and lucas seemed to be on alert, both glancing between you, dustin, and steve to see how the situation would unfold. "steve, you wanna help me out over here?" you nodded toward the counter in the center of the room, walking backwards in the direction as you gestured.

"uh, yeah," steve said, clearing his throat when he realized how low his tone was. "sure, i gotcha."

the two of you made your way to the register, steve's back to the kids as he stood across the counter from you. your eyes shifted to your little brother as you placed the vhs tape on the counter, watching as he took a step forward only to be physically stopped by max. words were exchanged between the two, and dustin gave the back of steve's head one final intense glare before moving to the opposite side of the store and fixating his eyes on a random shelf of films. thank you, max, you thought gratefully.

when you looked back at steve, he seemed to be lost in thought, already in the process of marking your latest rental as returned. you gave yourself a few seconds to just look at him. you could tell he hadn't brushed his hair when he woke up that morning because the hair on the left side of his head was flattened out in comparison to the rest. the first button on his vest was secured to the second buttonhole, something you would've laughed at on most other days. his eyes were the same brown as always, but the distracted expression behind them made you slightly uneasy. soon enough, your few seconds to admire the older boy had expired, and it was time for you to force him into a conversation. "so," you started, earning a glance and raise of the brow from him. "how's the shift going? running the show solo?"

he chuckled, shaking his head at your small talk. "yup, it's all me this morning. and, of course, i was running a smooth operation until the fiends showed up."

you shot him a pitiful smile. "i'm sorry about them. i told dustin to leave it alone, but he's--"

"obsessed with protecting you?" you nodded, and steve chuckled again. "yeah, i know. he always has been, and he always will be. i don't blame him. it's just-- agh, it's a lot sometimes, i guess." you could feel him thawing out as you fell into conversation, gradually easing back up after facing the turmoil that was your little brother. steve's mind seemed to shift then, almost as if he'd had a lightbulb moment within. "hey, you know, i'm sorry about last night, by the way. i didn't mean for it to seem like i was trying to get away from you, or get alone with nancy, or anything like that, because none of that is the case."

"you don't have to apologize, steve. i'm sure you've already had a hard enough time explaining yourself to dustin; you don't need to explain anything to me on top of that."

"no, no, i do, though," he insisted. as you talked, the vhs you'd entered with was resting beneath steve's palm, having long-since been forgotten. he turned his body to fully face you as he spoke this time, and you took a split second of that transitional time to mentally note the way his hand engulfed the tape. you almost lost all focus in that moment, already starting to thinking about steve's hands, warm and big and firm, instead of his relationship with nancy or your brother's pestering or anything else. but when he spoke again, the tone of his voice had changed, and all of your attention was drawn back to the conversation. "it's been months of everyone else demanding an explanation for you and me spending so much time together, and the least i could do is actually give you an explanation."

"trust me, i get it. they give me a lot of shit too, for pretty much anything that involves you."

"anything and everything. like, if dustin sees me wave at you when i pick him up from your house, it's all i hear about for twenty minutes. any time max hears that you and i spend any time together she has to clarify whether or not it was a date. even nancy and robin do it. i mean, when we left the gym last night the two of them went back and forth the entire ride on what i could do to get you to forgive me. i honestly don't remember the last time i went a whole 24 hours without someone asking about you, or mentioning us, or calling me out on something. it’s just so frustrating. i mean, i spend months striking out with every dud of a girl i talk to, and then i waste a few more months with a bunch of chicks who i know aren't worth my time, and then i finally realized that there's this perfect girl right in front of me, and i can’t work up the courage to do anything about it because of the pressure from our friends and her little brother? kind of pathetic, if you ask me."

"the perfect girl, you say?" you smirked at him, his face flushing a little when you locked eyes.

"i-- yeah, the perfect girl." he smiled a little as he looked at you, feeling his own mood shift from anxious and overwhelmed to hopeful and optimistic.

"i don't know about perfect. maybe she's kinda cute, but perfect? seems like a bit of a stretch."

"no, i mean, i get that it's hard to believe and everything, but she's a total catch. she's drop-dead gorgeous, obviously, but she's also smart, and determined, and so caring. like, i don't think there's anything this girl wouldn't do to protect the people she loves. seriously, i've never met a girl like her before, and i'm pretty positive i never will again. she's pretty much one of a kind. yeah, she's perfect."

the nonchalant tone of his voice as he spoke confirmed to you that steve had calmed down after his interaction with dustin. more than that, you were shocked by the things he'd said. as you'd said to max the night before, you knew steve liked you. it wasn't like he did some superb job of hiding it from you or anyone else; everyone knew that steve harrington didn't waste his time hanging out with one girl for months if he wasn't actually interested in her. in all honesty, though, you hadn't thought it was as much of a true emotional attraction as a combination of loneliness and sexual tension. his never having made a move before was what you'd considered confirmation of that theory; he didn't actually care enough to risk his friendship with dustin, so he just left it alone. regardless of all the logic you'd used to justify your relationship with steve, here he was confessing that he had all sorts of feelings about you.

without noticing, you'd gone completely silent during your moment of realization. steve was looking at you with anticipation and a little fear, smiling nervously as he said, "sorry, was that too much?"

you laughed, shaking your head. "no, that wasn't too much. it's just kind of insane, you know? i mean, if you told me sophomore year that king steve would be calling me 'the perfect girl' one day, i would've laughed in your face. but here we are."

"here we are," steve repeated with a smile. "for the record, though, king steve is dead and gone. god, i hated that guy." he rolled his eyes as he spoke then, cringing at the memory of who he used to be.

"yeah, i can't really disagree with that. king steve was a dick. but i'm glad you're the steve that took over for him."

"well, this steve would really love it if you'd give him a chance. i might do dumb shit sometimes, but it's just because i get so in my head about what people think. but when it comes to you, i'm sick of worrying about what everyone else will say. i just--" he leaned forward, both elbows resting on the counter between you, and locked eyes with you as he spoke again. "will you go out with me?"

you could've sworn someone was holding a lighter to each of your cheeks in that moment. whether it was because of how hard you were blushing or how hard you were smiling, you weren't sure, but you could feel the heat spread across your face as you answered. you leaned forward as you spoke, too, placing your hands on top of his where they rested on the counter. "i would love nothing more, steve."

"jesus christ," steve breathed, letting his head hang low as he exhaled a chuckle and hid his face from you. when he lifted his head again, his face was just as pink as yours. "i didn't know if i would ever get the opportunity to ask you uninterrupted. even then, i didn't know if you'd even say yes!"

you squeezed his hands in yours, laughing at his confession. "obviously i said yes. what girl could say no to that hair?" you reached up and tugged gently on the hair atop his head, laughing when his nose scrunched in response.

steve grabbed the hand that had been in his hair as you dropped it back down, feeling another wave of relief and adoration wash over him. "i would come around the counter and kiss you, but your little brother is definitely still watching us."

you snorted at that, nodding. "you're totally right. and, unfortunately, the only way to get him to leave here is to take him with me when i go. so, instead of kissing me now, you can wait until later tonight when you pick me up to go out."

steve laughed, letting your hands slip out of his as you pulled away and started walking toward your brother and his friends. "i'll pick you up at 7?" he called after you.

"i'll be ready by 6:30," you shot back with a smile. then you moved a few feet across the store to find dustin, lucas, mike, and max huddled behind a shelf of vhs tapes, obviously struggling to eavesdrop on your conversation with steve. you fought back a laugh at the sight of them, cramped and clueless, before announcing, "anyone who wants to know what's going on with me and steve, leave the store now and you'll get your answers."

steve had never seen those four fools move so quick, and before he knew it, they were outside. he shot you one last lovesick grin as you waved goodbye to him with a smile. "see you at 6:30."

maybe today wasn't such a day from hell, after all.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOURTEEN

in which eddie finally offers you an honesty hour. which is great, until you learn you've bit off more than you're capable of chewing. (oh, and we find out more of what happened at steve's infamous party)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 5k+

→ a/n: there is still one more bit of the memory left for steve's party!! i broke it into three bits because otherwise it would be too long as one giant clump lol. sorry this is being posted so late... but hey! it's here! see y'all again thursday lol thank you to everyone for continuing to be so kind about this story and show it so much love

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

14:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

It’s Eddie. You only know because when Nancy opens the door, she greets him loudly, letting her drunken squeal echo down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Munson! Finally!” her voice carries, and you fight the urge to try and move to peek through the doorway to see him, “Took you long enough!”

Eddie's voice is too quiet for you to hear his reply. He’s not drunk, not fueled by reckless decisions and overflowing affections like most of the other friends were already.

There’s a terrible twisting in your gut at his arrival, and you know it shows across your face when Robin looks at you apologetically. As if for a moment, they had forgotten they way you and Eddie avoided each other. As if for a moment, they had all pretended that the entire group could convene and it could be easy, and that was on them instead of you or Eddie. But it wasn’t on them. That blame could never fall on them.

It was on Eddie, you decided. He was the one who more ardently avoided you rather than vice versa. He was the one with a sharper tongue between the two of you, always snappy, always irritated with you. It was on Eddie. It should be on Eddie.

Except, you still felt bad about the Chrissy ordeal. He may have acted as if he disliked you for no reason before, but now he was hating you with reason. You can’t blame him; you’d do the same thing. If he ruined a date like that, stomped all over possible potential and threw it away without even considering your feelings involved, you’d be out for blood.

You sort of needed to apologize, and needed to apologize soon.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle calls out from the couch. It captures your attention just in time to look over and watch as Eddie enters the room, his back facing you, his shoulders slack beneath his leather jacket.

He’s relaxed. You’re immediately sure that he doesn’t know you’re here yet.

“Hey, man,” he greets with a gravelly voice, an edge of fatigue to it you’re familiar with. It’s the kind of tiredness that follows long weeks, as you two had spoken about that first night. For a second, you wonder if he’s still having those. And if he is, how often they happen, if he ever comes home from them and thinks about that night, if he has anyone to call when it’s late and they haunt him.

You know you don’t. Neither Steve nor Robin are ever awake that late, or at least don’t answer the phone at that time of day, and you don’t feel close enough with the rest of the group to burden them like that.

There had been a time where you would wonder if Eddie could have become that person, if the type of conversation you two had at the bar the first night could ever translate over phone lines. But that time had been early on, and was long dead. It laid in an unmarked grave with all your other ponderings of what a friendship with Eddie might look like.

“We can keep you two apart,” Robin whispers, or at least tries to whisper. She’s loud, “He said he had work and wouldn’t make it. We… We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.”

Oh.

Oh, what a knock to your pride. Robin means nothing harmful of the words, they should be neutral and just an explanation offered to you. But your mind takes them in its grasp and runs, runs, runs.

“We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.”

You’re the backup plan. You see it now, and it sucks, but you press your lips into a cellophane smile that Robin can’t see through in her flurry to distract you with an offering of you two plus Steve having another round of drinks. You decide to take a straight shot of the nearest bottle of vodka, swallowing it down to drown your already sinking heart. You fake laugh when Steve tells bad jokes, you make up lies about your dates of the last few weeks, deciding you no longer care if you add in more details to look less pathetic.

You’re the backup plan. So you’re sure they won’t notice when you spin a new version of yourself.

This version of you that spews from your lips has gotten lucky more times in the last month than you have in the last year. This version of you is always the one having the last say in conversations, the one leaving men on read rather than the tables being flipped as they were in reality.

Robin says nothing, even when she notices some of the things you say not aligning with what you’d told her earlier that week. She only side-eyes you as Steve drinks in every detail, only disrupting to suggest another shot.

At some point, she gets too drunk to side-eye you.

“Fuck,” Steve sighs, throwing his head back as he glances out to his living room, where Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie have taken to sitting in an oblong circle around on his and Robin’s furniture, “I need some fresh air. Anyone else?”

“Me,” Robin responds so quickly, you would have made fun of her if you didn’t notice the sickly shade of green creeping up on her.

Steve looks at you, raising an eyebrow, but you only shake your head. It makes the room threaten to spin. Maybe, just maybe, you should have slowed your roll with the vodka shots. Maybe.

“I’ll stay in here, hold down the fort,” you promise, letting your eyes fall shut before you inhale deeply through your nose, exhaling softly through parted lips.

No way. You hadn’t drunk nearly enough tonight to excuse getting sick as Robin was seemingly about to.

Robin and Steve leave you be as you compose yourself. You think you hear them extend the offer to everyone in the living room, but you can’t make out who agrees to go and who stays. But as you listen to all the footsteps making their way out the front door, Steve calling out that they’d be back soon, you start to become convinced you’ll open your eyes to an empty apartment.

You open them to an empty kitchen. So far, so good.

But then a voice clears their throat from the living room, just as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open it to find the cursed dating app still open, your messages with the bartender still staring you back in your face. The bartender you thought you’d hit it off with. The bartender that had stood you up the night before.

Fuck him, you think bitterly as you turn to find Eddie entering the kitchen. Because of course, given your luck, Eddie was the only one who stayed back.

“Those apps fucking suck,” Eddie notes, using the neck of his beer bottle to gesture in the general direction of your phone.

You look between him and the lit up screen for a moment, finding half the mind to click out of the private messages, “You’ve used them in the past?”

“Nope.”

You wait for a second, giving him the chance to elaborate. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Eddie. If he explained himself to you, that would just be too easy.

“Okay,” you sigh, squinting at the page and past the vodka, trying to fumble your way back onto the screen that would show you eligible bachelors in your area, letting you swipe and judge them by solely looks as if they weren’t actual people on the other side of the phone. As if they weren’t more than a reservoir of attention at your fingertips.

Maybe that had been your mistake with the bartender – you let him become a real person to you.

“Why are you even still on them? I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.”

It’s something in the way he says it. One moment, you’re looking down, ignoring him. The next, you can’t help but lift your head in shock. The words all felt sharpened and poised for a kill, ready for an attack you hadn’t expected so early on in the night.

“I-” you don’t know how to defend yourself. You don’t know whether to stick by the lies you’ve told tonight, or to be concerned with who was telling Eddie about your love life, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.”

Eddie grins and leans on a counter across from you, “You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the body count you’ve got there, player.”

You’re drunk. You tell yourself that’s why you take his words straight to heart – you’re drunk, and therefore, you’re sensitive.

“You’re bluffing,” you snap, “You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying,” you spit finally, crossing your arms defensively. Your emotions were rising too high, too quickly, and you blame the vodka. You blame the vodka and you blame the drink Steve had made you. You blame the bartender who stood you up. And most importantly, you blame Eddie.

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he expects you to shrink in cowardice when he stands up straight and takes several steps across the kitchen to be closer to you, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up. Everyone strikes ou-”

“I’m pathetic?” you scoff and interrupt him, not even paying any attention to where he was going. The tips of your ears are starting to flame with a red tinge, “Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.”

“I did!”

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.”

He freezes up entirely, grin faltering before your eyes, “How do you know that?”

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” you roll your eyes at the cracks in his composure, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” Eddie grumbles, reserving himself back to his side of the kitchen. If someone came in and squinted closely, they’d find that imaginary boundary between the two of you, an invisible line that would not be crossed. Not here, not tonight. You wouldn’t touch Eddie Munson with a twelve-foot pole if you could help it.

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.”

You can see his agitation spreading like wildfire across his face, in the tick of his jaw and the twitch of his eyes. You can practically see the words that linger on his tongue as he bites down on it – it is your fault.

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice goes monotonous as he crosses his arms, and the muscles strain against his shirt. His leather jacket has long been discarded, probably thrown over the back of the couch or a chair in the living room.

You mirror him, crossing your arms, letting the screen of your phone press into your side, “I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment,” his eyebrows furrow and you consider the consequences of chucking your phone at him.

Your irritation, your own agitation, is all bubbling beneath your skin. If it wasn’t for the vodka mingling with it, you would have been squirming from the discomfort. Usually, he doesn’t get to you. Normally, his off-handed comments come with a sting that can quickly fade.

None of the jabs are fading tonight. They only seem to linger. Because he’s right, and you hate that he’s right.

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going?” you uncross your arms, waving your hands wildly into the empty air between you and Eddie, “We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?”

Eddie swallows hard, and you can watch the words wash over him, but you’re unsure of which of your drunken slurs specifically got to him. You weren’t wrong in any of your statements, you weren’t outlandish in either of your guesses. But your words have frozen him up all the same and you aren’t sure why.

“You’re right,” when he physically melts, the deathly chill remains in his voice, “We aren’t friends. But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?”

It’s in the way he says it, confirms it.

We aren’t friends.

He hisses it out as if it were a painful reminder, as if saying those words burn him eternally. He says them as if they are capable of sending ice through his veins and bones alike.

You know why he froze now, and it’s too late.

“Well-” you pause, unsure of how exactly to respond. You’ll be having a talk with Robin, surely. But technically, Nancy was your friend, right? Surely, she was allowed to know the drama of your love life, wasn’t she? “You say that as if Nancy and I aren't friends.”

“Are you?” he tilts his head tauntingly, as if he knows something you don’t.

“We… are.”

He catches the hesitation; he runs with it. He finds the handle of the knife you’d tried to keep so hidden, and he twists as hard as he can.

“Would Nancy agree if we asked her?” he hums, as if he were seriously contemplating this, as if it were a mediocre debate rather than a question of if you had friends or not, “Do you even have her on Instagram?”

“You, her supposed best friend, don’t have her on Instagram.”

“Because I don’t have Instagram, full stop.”

“Instagram isn’t the normal gauge of friendship,” you defend yourself, “Some people can have thousands of followers and no friends.”

You don’t have Nancy on Instagram. You don’t follow her, she doesn’t follow you. The most she’s acknowledged your presence on the app was tagging you in a photo on a night out once.

“It’s not about follower count,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s about mutual followings. That’s how Hollywood dictates whether celebrity couples are still together these days, yeah? If they follow each other. If you’re friends, you’d follow each other.”

The vodka makes you bold. Bold enough to mutter out, “Oh, fuck you,” in response to Eddie’s prodding.

“Wait, I-” you watch an unfamiliar emotion pass over Eddie’s face, something kin to regret. But his words are already out in the air, he’s already twisted the knife in your gut fully. He’s already spilled your blood in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, with no one around to witness it. He did it for himself – he did it for his own pleasure, his own enjoyment.

He enjoys hurting you.

“Save it,” you mutter, slowly deflating as you turn your back to him, facing the counter to grab your drink to nurse your wounds.

If you looked close enough in the corner of the room, you would have seen the shovel you should have used to bury away your hope of a friendship with Eddie. You should have piled the dirt over the casket, should have put 6 feet of soil and earth and worms between you and that fruitless yearning.

But you didn’t. He hadn’t taken it quite far enough yet.

Yet.

But then he had to cross that invisible barrier. He just had to walk across the kitchen, come up behind you, and not mind his own business. He just had to look over your shoulder just as you opened the bartender’s profile again, if for nothing else than to further hurt yourself for the night.

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

—

HOUR FOURTEEN - 5:00 AM

You don’t bother with putting pants back on, only Eddie’s sweatshirt. At this point, pants were just beginning to feel like a nuisance when it came to the two of you. A nicetie, as one might put it.

What were the points of niceties with him if he could never hate you?

You have the entire five minutes he spends in the bathroom to try and compose yourself. To try and desperately ruminate through these feelings and detach them from everything that was transpiring. The emotions didn’t belong here, there weren’t twists of guilt and sorrow of loss involved for Eddie when he was fucking you.

So why is that all you could feel right now?

He could never hate you, but he had spent the last year doing exactly that, hadn’t he?

“Hey,” he reappears in the entryway of the kitchen with the worst possible timing, right in the eye of the storm that had begun to cloud over your mind. He holds up a pack of cigarettes you can only assume he’d snagged from his room, “I’m, uh- I was gonna grab a smoke out on the balcony. Join me?”

There’s something of desperation in the way he asks you. All the words are casual, but his tone is an undermining plea; please say yes, please join me, please let me in. He knows something’s wrong, and he’s not just turning a blind eye and ignoring it this time.

You stare at the pack of Marlboro Reds for a few seconds before shrugging, “Sure.”

It’s certainly not as enthusiastic as you’re sure he was hoping for, but he smiles at the small victory nonetheless.

The first thing you notice about his balcony, aside from the clustered furniture, is the view. You’ve never thought your city to be very charming, always looking at it from a pedestrian’s view or through the lens of a tired, crabby college student embarking on another late night. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d step foot on a higher floor of a building like Eddie’s, one just tall enough to see over the rooftops of most of the mundane buildings, one that could peer right over the skyline and show a new dawn breaking. It’s a flourish of pink, orange, and violet, each shade stealing away another breath. The sun is just barely yawning over the horizon, just finally awakening.

God, you’re going to regret not actually sleeping during this time.

“What’s got you scowling?” Eddie mumbles the question out around a cigarette, pausing with his lighter in midair.

You turn your head, and- just like that, all the anger and confusion melts away. He’s painted in the same shades of the sunrise, in a golden light that almost seems to be emitted from him rather than the waking sun. He is all soft edges and tired eye bags, a stubble that you can imagine the itch of against your palm if you were to reach out a hand to hold his face. If you were to kiss him right now, you fear he might dissolve all over your tongue, leaving nothing but his sweetness behind to remind you it was all real.

It’s real. Even if it doesn’t make sense with what you guys projected before tonight, even if it doesn’t align with how your lives will continue on, tonight was real. You were here, he was here, and what happened…. Simply happened.

I could never hate you.

You get it now. Because in this lighting, with a soft breeze tugging your hair and mind alike, you know you feel the same way about him. And you know it contradicts all you have shown him in the past.

You could never hate him. He could never hate you. It’s unfortunate that that’s what you’d been calling it before tonight – hate.

“It’s going to really suck,” you breathe out half a sentence. Two endings before you: letting this night go or, “Not sleeping for a full twenty four hours.”

You don’t know how he does it, how he looks at you like he knows you had something else to say. But he gives you those eyes, and they almost elicit the truth from you.

Almost.

He throws his head back in laughter, and the pinks and purples and all the fights wasted are now trailing down his neck, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

He’s much better at pretending than you are. You know that now.

“Seriously,” you turn and walk to the railing, crossing your arms against the metal grate before he joins you at your side, “I’ll probably ditch my classes on Monday. I’ll have to sleep twenty four hours straight to even the score.”

“God, I wish I could fuck off for Monday,” Eddie groans. He’s throwing his head back again, and you can’t help but wish you could replace the golden rays with your lips. You wish your warmth could sink beneath his skin like the sun’s does.

“You can’t?” your voice cracks with the question as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips.

He takes a long drag, shaking his head with the exhale of smoke, “Nope. I work Mondays at the shop.”

“The shop?”

“Myo’s,” the way his lips curl around the filter of his cigarette as he fights his grin burns a hole in the middle of your chest. Burning and erupting, yearning and longing, ignored and buried, “The auto shop on Main street.”

You know by the way he looks at you that the name should ring a bell, but considering you don’t own a car, you don’t have the slightest clue what his job is, “Oh, so you’re a mechanic?”

“I- Yeah,” he nods slowly, “Yeah, I’m a mechanic,” he pauses and you can see that he has more to say, it just takes him a moment. He looks off the balcony, shifts his weight between his two feet, takes another drag of nicotine. When he finally gathers his thoughts, you’re patient and waiting, biting back a small smile the moment he whips his face towards you, “Have we seriously never talked about that before? I swear I’ve told you I’m a mechanic.”

“Nope, seriously. Never.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way.”

“There absolutely is a way,” you laugh, letting your head fall backwards and not catching the way his gaze falls on you. The sunrise paints you in just as beautiful of a lighting as it had him. If someone asked you, you’d say that you doubt he noticed, but he did. He noticed. He always noticed, “Usually, by now, we’d be at each other’s throats.”

“We sort of were,” he shrugs, eyes still glued to how your collarbone peaks out from beneath his sweatshirt, “Surprised we didn’t leave more hickies.”

The topic you’d been avoiding. The topic he seemed indifferent about.

I could never hate you.

You decide to put his words to the test.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask, looking down now and picking at flakes along the metal railing, still not noticing him noticing you, “About…. what we just did?”

“Are you always this straight to the point?” he chuckles nervously. In your peripherals, you catch the way he leans and mirrors you, side by side on the railing. His light cigarette hung loosely between indifferent fingers. Indifference, indifference, indifference.

If you’d just look at him, you’d see anything but indifference written across his face.

“Only when it matters,” you reply, breathing in his secondhand smoke, “Only when it’s important.”

His pinky is within reach of yours once more, just like at the parking garage. Even after feeling the entire expanse of his bare skin against yours, you still crave more – you crave for the intimacy that comes from hooking pinkies as grown adults, from knuckles curling into each other like hinges of a door of possibility.

You don’t see the way he swallows hard, or how he nods subtly to himself before he says, “Alright. Let’s talk about it.”

Those words make you look at him quickly, taken back and not expecting for him to give so easily. If you had noticed him noticing you, it would have been the expected reaction; if you’d seen the way his eyes traced over the pink and orange shadows of your features, you’d know he can’t really say no to you. Not anymore.

“Yeah?” you only ask for the confirmation because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He won’t let it. He holds it tightly, just nodding, “Yeah. I… You deserve my honesty.”

You deserve my honesty.

I could never hate you.

“I’m starting to get a bad feeling of deja vu, Eddie. We don’t have to do honesty if you don’t want to-”

“Ask me anything. Right here, right now. I’ll answer with the full truth.”

You flashback to hours before, when he’d offered his honesty this willingly and you’d only thrown it back in his face. But right now isn’t that moment, the two of you aren’t in the heat of an argument, there isn’t an impending doom on the horizon and the weight of the night no longer rests on either of your shoulders.

You don’t care as much about why he hates you now, or what he meant by never hating you to begin with. You don’t care much about the porn magazines and you don’t care what changed that first night.

They’re all petty details that have had too long to gather dust.

You do care about his job, you do care to know why he chose to fix cars. You do care about if he still takes night classes, and if yes, which ones. You care to know his favorite color and you care to know how he takes his coffee in the morning. Maybe you even care to know if he has a favorite coffee shop.

You care to know all the new petty details you’d never uncovered about him. Miniscule bits and pieces of him you crave to hold in your hands, if only just for tonight- or today, at this point.

But you need a baseline question. Something that won’t throw him off, but really doesn’t twist around your heart as severely as the others. Something that does neither damage nor nurture to the vines and blooms still occupying your chest.

You suddenly remember a small detail that had been revealed to you by a third party tonight, “Okay, um, well…” you ponder on phrasing, and Eddie edges ever so closer to you, “At that bar we went to tonight, the bartender – Frank – mentioned how you’d been going there for about six months.”

Eddie pales, but he nods nonetheless. Maybe the question is more loaded than you’d anticipated.

“I guess... I…” you continue to stumble over your words and it only leaves Eddie more time to panic, “I’m just curious why you started going? Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s my question,” you tilt your chin up, try to be seem more confident in your question.

Even in his panic and sudden blanching, Eddie looks ready to laugh at you as his eyebrows scrunch. Somewhere between the wrinkles, you swear you could find something like affection, “That’s your question? Why did I start going to a bar that’s conveniently close to my apartment?”

Maybe it is a good baseline question. Maybe he was just nervous from the other possible questions you could have asked about your time spent together at the bar.

“That’s my question,” you confirm.

The color isn’t returning to Eddie. His hand shakes when he brings his cigarette to his lips. His breath is evidently shaky on the exhale as the smoke puffs out unevenly.

It’s not a good baseline question.

“I…” he won’t meet your gaze, and all your gut can do is twist, twist, twist in anticipation, “I got kicked out of my last bar I was a regular at.”

“Got kicked out? Why?”

It’s ripping the bandaid off the wound of honesty, and neither of you even realize it. Neither of you notice the blood of your history catching up to you.

Eddie sighs and rolls his shoulders before looking at you, “I got into a fight.”

Your twisted gut stills. A fight? Why is he freaking out so evidently over a fight? Does he think you’ll judge him that harshly?

“A fight?” you echo your thoughts with a soft laugh into the morning air, “You… Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Jesus, did you go to jail that night? That would suck, but… Eddie, I won’t judg-”

“I didn’t go to jail,” he interrupts, “I mean, they should have called the cops on me, but they didn’t. They gave me a second option of leaving immediately, and being banned for life, effective the moment I stepped out of the building that night. I took the ban.”

“Well,” you relax your shoulders, looking over at the rising sun, “That’s nice of them, I guess, right? I’m sure whatever mean drunk swung their fist at you deserved to get their ass handed to them-”

Eddie interrupts you with a soft utterance of your name, making you look back to his hues of gold instead of the sky’s, “I swung first.”

Oh. Maybe that’s why he still looks so wrecked with nerves. Maybe he thinks that’s the piece you’ll judge him on – it has to be the reason you can see sweat gathering along his eyebrow, just beneath his bangs. “Then I’m sure whoever it was deserved it? I-”

“He did,” he interrupts one final time. You’re about to finally snap at you, telling him to just let you speak, to just accept that you weren’t going to judge him over some bar brawl, when he drops the final bomb of an answer. Here is the honesty, you both realize at the same time, as his words slice through you, “It was about you. I got banned because of you.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #gotta blast off to the gym now lol

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rogueddie · 2 years

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Steve loves giving people things.

It's one of the rare things he misses about Tommy and Carol- even when he'd just give them the food he didn't want, they'd light up and look so pleased. They were encouraging too- probably just because they wanted things from him, he knows that, but it still makes him feel all warm and happy just remembering it.

No one lets him give them stuff anymore.

Jonathon had accepted the replacement camera reluctantly and when Steve tried to give him other things for said camera, he got a door slammed in his face.

Nancy, drunk and repeatedly calling him 'bullshit', slips in a little dig at how Steve needs to buy peoples love.

Not even Dustin accepts anything from him. The only thing Steve could really offer him is a new walkie, or batteries, or food- but Dustin already has those things and dismisses any attempts Steve makes to learn what else he could get him. Jokes that he doesn't need to be bought.

By the time they save Eddie, turn the narrative on it's head and save the day- he's back on his parents payroll. Something about him being a hero in the newspapers (at Eddies insistence). Something about him being a good influence on the Harrington name. Something about him deserving some sort of reward.

That doesn't matter though, itt means he can start giving people actual gifts again!

But, he quickly bursts his own bubble. Because no one he knows wants any gifts from him. No one seems to understand. It makes him, for the first time in a long time, miss Tommy and Carol again.

He gets Eddie a new guitar though. It's not cheap, but he can afford it and... well, Eddies old one got destroyed in the Upside Down. It's the perfect excuse, right? It'd be like Jonathons camera- even if he's reluctant, he'll still accept it.

But it's not like Jonathon at all. Eddie is thrilled before he even opens the box, thrilled that Steve got him something. When he does open it and finds a new guitar, he screams (and scares his uncle, but even he seems to be understanding when he sees the guitar).

Eddie wants gifts. He jokes about it but, when Steve points out that he will if Eddie lets him, he looks genuinely excited at the idea. Tries to tell Steve that he doesn't have to, but he looks reluctant when he says that. Looks more upset that Steve might think he's greedy or using him.

So Steve starts getting him things. Usually just... little things. At first, it was a perfect excuse to start spending time with him, to become better friends.

He isn't sure when it started to mean something else. He isn't sure when he started to swap out little things he thinks will make Eddie laugh for... romantic things. For roses and chocolate. For things that will flatter Eddie and make him blush, make him pull some of his hair in front of his mouth and give Steve looks that can only be described as 'demure'.

It's when Steve gets him a little skull ring he'd seen in passing, something he'd seen and immediately thought of Eddie, that he finally gets the response he'd started secretly hoping for.

"How about... instead of a thing... next time, we go out?" Eddie shifts, hesitant. "Like... see a movie, get dinner?"

Steve had to bite his lip, trying to make his grin a little less goofy. "Yeah. You, uh... mean, like, a date, right?"

"Do you want it to be like a, uh, date?"

Steve can't quite get himself to say it, nodding instead.

Eddie gives him a little smile, looks painfully understanding. "A date then. I'm free this Saturday? I hear there's something cute and family friendly in cinemas that we could watch."

"Yeah, ok, Saturday. Um... you wanna get some food too?"

"Food sounds good. Dinner and a movie, very romantic. Pick me up at 6?"

"Yeah. Yeah, ok, 6. It's a date."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #ficlet #hurtcomfort

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farfaras · 1 year

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Part 2.

What if Eddie moved on from thinking Steve and Nancy should get back together when Jonathan came back and saw how they’re actually destined to be together even tho they still have shit to figure out.

I know it’s a popular hc that Eddie and Robin clock each other immediately BUT I still think that as two queer kids in a small backwards town they’re more worried about no one finding out about them so they wouldn’t notice someone else. So worried about themselves that they (like straight people) also fall into the mindset of ‘everyone is straight until proven otherwise’.

What’s the result of this? Eddie seeing how close Robin and Steve are and thinking there must be something there. And because Steve is a little more affectionate than Robin, now Eddie thinks he’s pining after her.

“Why aren’t you and Robin together?”

“It’s not like that. She’s my best friend.”

“I don’t buy it.”

So now Steve has to put up with Eddie constantly going on about how Steve should just ask her out already, what’s he waiting for, she probably likes him back.

It bothers Steve to no end. He wished society had advanced enough to realize that men and women can be platonic friends without having to explain themselves.

A nightmare.

And Steve would never out Robin, so telling him the truth wasn’t an option. And he really wasn’t interested in dating anyone right now, so that was out of the question. What could he do to get Eddie to understand that him and Robin would never happen?

Then he remembered. It seemed so distant but Steve actually tried to tell Robin he liked her once. It was kinda embarrassing to think about now, specially because he saw Robin as nothing more than a friend now. He couldn’t even remember what having a crush on her ever felt like. And maybe he never even had one, shitty friends and shitty parents maybe warped his perception and then he couldn’t see the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. Well, that was for another day. He could tell the difference now. He thinks.

He could just tell Eddie about that moment in starcourt. He would just leave out the part about Robin having absolutely bad taste in girls. Foolproof. Eddie would leave it alone now.

“What? She just rejected you and then you decided to become her best friend?” He looked surprised, like the idea was impossible to understand.

“And I don’t regret it. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re crazy.” Steve didn’t expect that.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie looked at him and his expression was hard to read. “You’re telling me that after being rejected you didn’t need time away? Just jumped to being a platonic friend? Despite your feelings?” He scoffed. “I could never do that.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You still like her?”

Steve really tried to convince Eddie that he didn’t like Robin anymore. But no matter what he would say he didn’t believe him.

So Steve gave up.

Now he goes along with it. It’s easier. It stopped Eddie from trying to set them up or whatever.

Except it didn’t.

Now Eddie came up with the absolute great idea of making her jealous. Which was so so ridiculous Steve had to hold back laughter. He didn’t mention how much Robin had heard about past dates. This was beginning to amuse him just a little bit.

“How would I even do that?” Steve asked, curious as to what Eddie would come up with.

“You know? Let me think about this.” He made a show of putting his hand on his chin, contemplating. “Show up at work with some marks on you neck. You know, see how she reacts to that knowledge.” Steve knows how Robin reacts to that. Before Vecna, on his endless quest to find ‘the one’ (what a waste) he had some hookups. One time he went into work with one or two hickeys on his neck. Robin wouldn’t even bat her eyes, just would ask ‘who was it now?’ and then ask if he would see her again. The answer was no. Eddie didn’t know this.

“Yeah well, I really don’t feel like going on a date and hooking up with someone just to use it to bait a reaction. Seems kinda cruel to the other person.” Steve thinks that should be enough to shut this idea down.

“Huh. Maybe you’re better than me because I didn’t even think about that.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just snorts. And he thinks that’s gonna be the end of it. There’s nothing else Eddie can really do or come up with. Right?

Wrong.

“I could do it.” Did Steve hear that right? Huh?

“What?” Steve asked.

“Give you a hickey. It’s no big deal, really.”

If you asked Steve why he said yes. Man, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He really doesn’t know! It’s like someone possessed him and he was moving his mouth, but it wasn’t him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t come up with a reason not to do it fast enough that would convince Eddie.

They were both sitting on the couch so Eddie just leaned in and started on a spot on the left side of his neck. Steve’s hand instinctively moved to the back of Eddie’s head. One wouldn’t think so based on its appearance but Eddie’s hair was surprisingly soft.

Suddenly there were teeth scraping his neck. Steve let out a noise that he hadn’t heard before. He accidentally pulled a little on Eddie’s hair, he was gonna apologize but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he just hummed.

“Did you just bite me?”

Eddie pulled back and sneered. “Sorry. I let my impulsive thoughts win.” What does that even mean?

Steve was gonna ask if that did it but then Eddie moved to his lap, straddling him. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the other side?” Makes sense? Honestly his mind was getting a little mushy and was only focusing on Eddie’s weight on him. When Eddie leaned in again, Steve’s hands traveled to rest on his hips. Eddie’s on his shoulders to have leverage, his hips hovering now.

Steve tipped his head back to give him a little more space. With more space Eddie seemed to be satisfied with that spot and moved lower, however this next one was sensitive to Steve, he’s always known that. He was gonna say so but he couldn’t, Eddie was already on it. He let out a breathy sound and gripped Eddie’s hips tighter making him slam back on his lap. He thinks Eddie moaned, he’s not sure tho. “Sorry.” He muttered.

He didn’t think he’d enjoy this.

He did.

Maybe he should put a stop to it.

He hasn’t so far.

It went on a little longer. Some hands wandering. Some sounds uttered. Minds getting floaty.

He knew it was coming to an end when Eddie started leaving kisses to soothe the spots, he trailed until he got to his ear. Which he actually licked. It was probably to make a joke but it only made Steve shiver.

“I think you’re done.” Eddie said. He hesitated a second before climbing off his lap.

Steve knew he looked winded. Eddie tried to look casual but he’s known him for a while and could see that it was feigned casualness.

“Uh. Good.” Lame. Steve is lame.

Mike Wheeler was right because Steve Harrington is lame.

How is he gonna explain this to Robin?

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ikarakie · 1 year

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what if they won? what if steve was trying to get the injured eddie out of the upside down as the gates were sewing themselves back up again? what if he knew that not everyone could get out safely, so he sends robin and nancy through. then he sends them eddie and hoists dustin after him and by the time everyone else is through, he knows there's no time.

dustin screams. he curses him out and sobs as the gate closes between them. steve promises it'll be fine, just take care of eddie, he'll be fine, but they both know he can't know that. robin looks so betrayed, so heartbroken, he can't bear to meet her eyes. just looks to the floor and tries to tune out their pleads until the gate's shut for good and he's all alone.

maybe he hadn't really thought it through. just figured his chances were better on this side than trying to squeeze through an actively closing gate and possibly being torn in half between worlds. decided that, out of all of them, he was the one who deserved to go back the least. they all had families that actually cared, that were waiting for them. they had each other, and soon enough they'd forget about him. it was all for the best.

but it still hurt. he still sat in the upside down version of eddie's trailer and wept. wished to tell dustin he loved him like a little brother, wished to kiss robin on her head one more time, wished to know if max was okay, wished that he and eddie could've become real, proper friends.

wished to know if there was something else eddie had wanted to tell him before they split off. if he'd misread things, especially after he'd pushed so hard for him and nancy to get back together. but none of that mattered anymore, because he was stuck here now.

after a few hours of crying and wallowing he gets his ass up and decides he's gonna at least try to survive for a while. he decides to stay in eddie's trailer. doesn't feel like he could make it to his own house, and doesn't even think he wants to. though he does trek to the nearest convenience store (and cries there, too, because he remembers bringing max and the kids here for snacks so many times). picks up whatever non-perishable food he can carry and then holes up.

he thinks of little will byers. cries some more, for him. so small, all alone in this place. how strong he was, how he was braver than steve ever would be, even at his young age. thinks he'd like to tell him that, if he ever could.

he's not sure how long passes. maybe days, maybe weeks. not like it's easy to tell how time goes down here. he would say he lost hope, but he never really had any hope to lose. he never intended for anyone to come and get him, made his peace with the fact he'd die here when he watched the ceiling gate close back up again. it's pathetic, how he mopes around and sits in a single spot for days on end. staring at the walls, not moving a muscle.

that's how she finds him. when he hears the door to the trailer jiggle, he just sort of thinks: ah, this is it. something's come for me. wonders if his parents will come to his funeral, if he even gets one.

it slams open. he doesn't even turn his head, doesn't want to know what it is that'll have him. just closes his eyes and waits, listens as it quietly comes towards him. crouches between his legs and- and takes his hands- what-

"steve." he opens his eyes and the floodgates start up again because it's el. her hair's buzzed again, which breaks his heart because he'd been the one to show her how to take care of it when she was growing it out. knew how proud she was of how long it'd gotten. but she's smiling so brightly, like she's won the lottery.

"el?" he asks, and he's shocked at how broken he sounds. "why are you here?"

"i have come to take you home." she says, rather matter of factly, leaving exactly zero room for argument. there's a fierce determination in her eyes, and she squeezes both of his hands.

but it's so dangerous here, he wants to say, you could've gotten hurt. why go through all of that for me?

and maybe she's been hiding mind reading powers from them, because she adds, "everyone misses you. i would have come sooner, but it took a while to get back to hawkins." then, she smiles. "i think they would have found a way even if i didn't, though."

it's like it all hits him at once. they've missed him. they've all been... looking for ways to come get him, this whole time. however long it's been. they didn't just forget about him like he wanted expected. the very idea suddenly seems so silly.

he takes a shaky breath. "well, in that case, let's not keep them waiting, yeah?" she smiles, big and happy, and nods.

part 2

#PART 2 EDDIE POV COMING SOON #stranger things #prompt #steve harrington #imagine #steddie #stranger things prompt #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steve and eddie #steddie fic #steddie hc #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington ficlet #steve and el

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munsonkitten · 7 months

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Steve hovers.

Eddie doesn’t really blame him. Not after what happened last time.

He doesn’t trust himself either, not really.

So Steve hovers in Eddie’s space while they assemble their weapons. Eddie’s on Molotov duty this time around, pouring kerosene into glass bottles that Steve holds steady. He took over Robin’s task with one look between her and Steve, and one clap on Eddie’s shoulder accompanied by a ‘you’re with me, Munson.’ Robin’s over with Nancy and Max now, counting ammo and loading guns.

Steve follows Eddie when he says he has to go take a leak, following him through Hopper’s new front door and down the hall to the bathroom. He follows Eddie just about everywhere these days, never letting him out of his sight.

It’s a bit annoying, the complete lack of privacy. Well, not complete, as Steve stands on the other side of the closed door, but still not much either. It feels like Steve can hear his every breath, every shuffle of his feet against the linoleum floor.

He pulls down his jeans, sits down on the cold porcelain seat and drops his face into his hands. His hair falls forward, and he knows he should find a hair tie to pull it back at some point, but he hasn’t done that yet. He doesn’t want to think about the looming battle. He doesn’t want to get ready for it.

“You know,” Steve says when Eddie comes back out of the bathroom. “No one would blame you if you just hightailed it out of Hawkins. If you go find Wayne and keep him safe, you know.”

“What, and leave you all behind? I’d be the asshole of the century, Harrington,” Eddie mutters, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Eddie, you almost—”

“I know, Steve,” Eddie snaps. “I know. I almost fucking died last time. Okay, but what? I should just run while all my friends are dying here? Because that’s what’s gonna happen, you know that, right? We’re all going to fucking die, and I’m just supposed to, what? Be completely alone after you all do and I don’t?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just crosses his arm over his chest, and shrugs.

“Say I should leave again and I’ll kill you myself,” Eddie says, pushing past Steve with enough force to push him into the wall.

Then he stops, shakes his head, and turns. Steve’s still standing there with his arms crossed protectively over his body. There’s a quickly masked hurt expression on his face when Eddie first looks at him, and his heart breaks in two. He shouldn’t be fighting with Steve, not when he’s just trying to save him.

He sees it on his face, clear as day, that Steve doesn’t want to have to carry Eddie’s lifeless body out of the Upside Down again. Especially not now when they’ve had a year to get close and become friends. When Steve spent weeks after that first time trying to nurse Eddie back to health, hidden away in his big empty house, keeping Eddie a secret from the outside world, all while learning secrets about Eddie in the process.

They’ve become close, and Eddie shouldn’t be fighting with him when this could be their last day on earth.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Eddie says. “I didn’t — I don’t mean that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Probably not,” Steve agrees. “But it’s okay that you did. I won’t mention it again.”

“Really, I’m — I’m sorry, man,” Eddie says. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“You’re stressed out, man,” Steve says, like it’s so simple, like it excuses what Eddie just said to him. “Once I told Henderson I was gonna knock his teeth into his skull. Shit happens.”

Eddie covers his face with his hands and takes a breath. He’s not a violent person, but he is stressed. He doesn’t think he’s ever had very many good outlets for his feelings other than music, but he hasn’t been able to listen to the stuff he wants to at the volume he prefers the last few days, not with everyone congregating in one place, cooped up in Hopper’s new house. He doesn’t have his guitar, doesn’t even have a notebook to write lyrics into.

Everyone’s a little bit snappish. Everyone’s scared. They’ve all said things they don’t mean, turned around and hugged it out with tears in their eyes. He saw it happen being El and Hopper earlier, saw it between Max and Mike yesterday. Even Nancy, always so calm and collected, yelled at Jonathan for moving her shoes.

Now it seems like it’s Steve and Eddie’s turn.

“C’mere, man,” Steve says softly, opening his arms up for Eddie.

Eddie falls into his embrace, lets Steve wrap himself around him.

It seems like, over the last year, they’ve both been finding reasons and excuses to touch each other. Eddie used to pretend there was something on Steve’s shirt just so he could run his fingers over his chest. Steve used to tell Eddie, long after his wounds healed, that he wanted to look at the scarring on his back to make sure everything was still looking okay. It would result in tender caresses that sent shivers down Eddie’s spine.

It’s never been stated. It’s never been acknowledged.

They never talk about the times Steve comes over and crashes in Eddie’s bed with him, pretending to accidentally fall asleep while they’re smoking together, as if Steve doesn’t put on his pajamas and curl up with his head on Eddie’s pillow each time. They never mention the wrestling, down on the ground with Eddie straddled over Steve’s stomach, never mentioning it when Steve flips him over and pins him down with his hands wrapped around Eddie’s wrists.

The hair washing, back when Eddie couldn’t reach above his head. The hair washing even long after Eddie could. The hands over foreheads checking for fevers, the hands spread over matching scars to make sure nothing’s gotten infected, the hand holding between them on the couch during scary movie scenes that don’t actually scare either of them.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again. “You’re my best friend.”

Steve squeezes him a bit tighter, presses his forehead to Eddie’s. They breathe each other’s air for a second before the front door slams open and they jump apart.

Someone walks through the house, out of their line of sight. Eddie doesn’t know who it is, or where they’re going, but he grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him into the bathroom. He doesn’t want to be seen, not with tears streaming down his cheeks and his hands shaking the way they are.

He wants to be alone with Steve for just a little while longer.

All this hovering and Eddie still can’t get enough of him.

They sit down with their backs against the side of the bathtub, arms brushing between them. Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“You’re covered in kerosene, dude,” Steve says, shifting a few inches away from him.

“I washed my hands,” Eddie says around the cigarette in his mouth. He lights it, giving Steve a look that says see? It’s fine when he doesn’t go up in flames.

They sit there for a few seconds before Steve snatches the cigarette out of his fingers.

“I thought you quit,” Eddie says, just like he says every time Steve does this.

“I told you,” Steve says, bringing it to his mouth. “I only smoke when I’m with you.”

“You’re always with me,” Eddie shoots back.

The smile Steve gives in return makes Eddie want to kiss him right here. They don’t do that, though. Eddie… Eddie’s never done that. Never kissed anyone, even though a year ago he said he’d do all the things he wants to do before he dies again. He told himself he wouldn’t die a virgin again, and he laughs to himself now at the memory.

It’s not like he cares about the concept of virginity, or anything. It’s a social construct, and all that, but he’d be a fucking liar if he said he didn’t want to have some kind of sex with someone at some point.

“What’s funny?” Steve asks.

“Not funny, just… You know, it’s like… The last time I almost died, I thought to myself, great, I’m about to die a twenty year old, never-been-kissed virgin, with no high school diploma, and all I’ve ever amounted to in my life is shredding Master of Puppets in hell. Told myself I’d fix all that before I die again.”

Eddie sighs, takes the cigarette back from Steve and brings it to his lips.

“And the only thing that has changed,” Eddie continues as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “Is that I’m twenty-one now instead.”

“Well,” Steve says slowly. “I can’t fix the high school diploma or the whole amounting to anything part of it. But…”

Eddie holds his breath. There’s no way Steve’s about to say it. There’s no way they’re finally going to acknowledge that something is going on between them.

“But,” Eddie repeats. Prompts. Says it so Steve knows he can keep going, that he doesn’t need to be afraid.

“But I could fix the never-been-kissed part. If you wanted me to,” Steve says. “And, um, the rest of it.”

“The rest of it,” Eddie says slowly.

“If you wanted,” Steve says again. He shrugs, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I… If not, that’s — it’s fine. I just thought, you know.”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. “I know.”

Silence stretches between them for a few minutes while they finish the cigarette. Eddie drops the butt into the toilet and flushes it. Wayne always gets on him for doing that at home, but what Hopper doesn’t know won’t hurt in the next twelve hours before they all die.

“Fuck it,” Eddie says. He pushes to his feet and offers a hand to Steve. “Let’s go on a supply run.”

“A supply—” Steve starts, confused. He looks at Eddie, the look that Eddie is giving him, the words he’s not saying, as he takes Steve’s hand and pulls him up. Understanding dons on Steve’s face, and then he smirks. “Oh. A supply run. Got it. You… you’re sure?”

Eddie shrugs. “As I’ll ever be.”

Read the rest on AO3

#this is just the beginning btw there is more on ao3 #steddie #steddie snippet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve/eddie #my fics #steddie fic #stranger things #trans eddie munson

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megxplryxb · 1 year

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Dating Steve Harrington would include:

Because honestly, who wouldn't want to date Steve?

Knowing Steve since you were little kids and being best friends ever since

You being totally oblivious to the fact that Steve liked you because you were convinced he was still in love with Nancy

Steve crushing on you for months but being afraid to tell you because he was sure you didn’t feel the same way even though you’ve loved him since, forever

Dropping little hints that he was crazy about you but you never catching on, always thinking he was talking about some new girl he’d met while at work

Getting jealous when he’d talk to Nancy because you hated how she broke his heart

Robin and Dustin trying to help him tell you how he felt but Steve would chicken out every time “No, I can’t tell her! If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’ll ruin our friendship and I can’t lose her.”

Your love for each other being blatantly obvious to EVERYONE

Steve always protecting you before everyone else even though he knew you could handle yourself

Steve finally telling you that he loved you when he was drugged by the Russians but you laughed it off thinking he didn’t know what he was saying. “Stevie, you’re very high right now.”

Him pulling you aside to tell you again before the showdown with Vecna while everyone was preparing for battle. “I meant what I said y’know, back at the mall…when you thought I was too drugged to know what I was saying…I’ve wanted to tell you for so long and I need to tell you now in case we don’t make it out this time and you can’t blame it on drugs.” He spoke softly as you put a hand over his mouth, smiling at him with tears in your eyes. “We’re going to make it out and when all of this is over you can tell me, okay?” You whispered cupping his face as he nodded. “I do, though. I always have.” Steve swallowed as you tried to hold back the tears from falling down your cheeks. “I do too.” You confessed finally sharing your first proper kiss

Nursing him back to health after defeating Vecna and becoming an official couple “Can we live happily ever after now?” Steve asked lying in his bed beside you before making love to you for the first time

Steve constantly touching you now that you’re his, it’s his love language after all

Your parents not being a bit surprised about your relationship because they were sure you were together anyway. “Haven’t you always been with him?” Your Dad asked confused as to why you were telling him now.

Borrowing his sweaters and forgetting to give them back for weeks at a time but Steve doesn’t mind because they always come back smelling like you and he loves the way you smell

Practically living in Steve’s house with him while his parents are out of town because he hates being alone. It’s not something that used to bother him but now that he’s with you, he doesn’t ever want to be without you. “Missed you today, honey.” He’d whisper in your ear, wrapping his arms tightly around you as you let out a soft laugh. “Steve, it’s only been a few hours.” “Yeah, a few hours too long.” He’d reply before kissing you

Having the whole gang over for movie nights, pool parties and sleepovers so Steve’s house doesn’t always feel so empty and you want him to have good memories there too

Teaching him how to cook because you’re tired of him constantly buying take out and shitty microwave meals when you aren’t around. Steve thinks it’s stupid at first but when you reveal there’s nothing sexier than a man who can cook, he rips off his shirt and throws on his apron, ready to make a mess in the kitchen, in more ways than one – “I might need a few lessons on how to cook, baby, but I’m a pro at dessert.” Steve would flirt trying to pull you closer as you’d wave your finger at him. “Dessert comes after “baby”.”

Running your fingers through his hair after a long day at work when you’re both lying on his couch watching a movie. “mmm sweetheart, that feels so good, could stay like this forever.”

Leaving your hair ties around his gear shift to annoy him but Steve secretly loves that you leave them there, just reminding everyone that you’re his and also because they’re useful when you decide to suck Steve off in his car when the drive in movie he takes you to is boring

Steve always looking up the local newspaper for affordable apartments so you can live together away from his parents house

Holding hands while he drives

Always telling you you're prettier than the actresses in the movies you watch while the gang gags at his cheesiness

Steve spending the holidays with your family and finally realising how much fun they could actually be

Bringing him and Robin lunch in Family Video

Steve picking you up from work on his days off “Hi honey, how was your day?”

Night swimming in his pool and feeling his fingers untying your bikini strings

Going on drives to nowhere just to see where you end up

Getting him to sing to you because it’s his secret talent and it really turns you on

Going on cheap dates because you hate fancy restaurants and prefer pizza

Dancing with you in his kitchen

Coming home drunk from a party and talking until the break of dawn

Steve whispering to you about his hopes for your future together when you have a bad dream and can’t sleep

Playing twister on date night but it always leads to sex

El and Max asking you for advice on relationships because you and Steve never break up unlike Nancy and Jonathan

Leaving Hickeys on Steve’s neck before he goes to work to annoy him

Steve leaving you notes when he leaves early but doesn’t want to wake you “Morning baby, how about dinner tonight at Enzo’s? Or we can just order a pizza and make out at skull rock, your choice - Love you x

Teasing Steve in public because you know how frustrated he gets

Sitting on his lap, whispering sweet nothings in his ear when he isn’t giving you attention at a party and you get a little too horny because he looks so good

Him never being able to say no to you

Steve always being willing to try new things in the bedroom with you “Baby I got this book today, you have to check it out, the positions are crazy!”

Lying on his chest while he tells you about his day

Giving you the last of his popcorn when you go to the movies because he knows the little pieces are your favourite

Steve loves how excited you get for every holiday, especially Halloween and Christmas.

He teases you for crying at the happy ending of movies but he thinks its the cutest thing ever

Giving Eddie advice on romance because now that he's found you, he wants his friend to be happy too

Always beating Steve at bowling, not because he lets you, just because he sucks at it. “Oh yeah? Maybe next time I’ll take you to the basketball court and see how you like losing, huh hotshot?” He’d joke wrapping an arm around you, kissing your cheek as you return your bowling shoes to the counter

Being the only other person allowed to drive his car, a privilege you’re extremely proud of. “I can’t believe you’re actually letting me drive this.” You squeal as Steve tosses you the keys, walking towards the passenger door. “Baby, if you drive the car as good as you fuck in it, we really won’t have a problem.” Steve teases as you slide in to the driver seat confidently.

Having stupid fights and Steve always apologising first because he hates it when you’re mad at him (not that you can stay mad for too long)

The hot make up sex you have after

Running you baths and lighting candles

Sneaking off from parties to find a bathroom you can make out in

Taking Steve to lingerie shops so he can help you pick out something sexy “Baby, I think you should get these, pink is totally your colour” “Oh I love lace!” “Crotchless panties, why would….Oooooh, they’re going in the basket.”

Steve being a professional pussy eater – the man just loves to watch you squirm underneath him and he could stay there for hours

Gathering his own little collection of sex toys to use on you because watching you cum is his favourite hobby

Never letting you shower alone because Steve wants to spend time with your boobies, he literally talks to them while you rinse out your hair

Wearing his old jerseys because seeing his last name draped across your back, drives him insane.

He knows he’ll make you Mrs Harrington eventually, he already has the ring picked out

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #king steve #steve the hair harrington #joe keery #steve stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fic

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funnylittlelad · 1 year

Text

birdsong - steddie ficlet (-1.5k)

That time Steve got hearing aids.

Steve has been pissing people off for weeks and he knows it. He just doesn’t know what to do about it. It gets to the point where Dustin snaps at him for never paying attention to them. Steve starts to consider just leaving the country and starting new somewhere else. Somewhere it doesn't matter if he can hear who’s talking to him because he can't understand them anyways. He always thought Italy could be nice. Instead of running, he just shows up less. Both literally and metaphorically.

He starts bailing on more hangouts, figuring he won't be able to hear everyone so what's the point. When he is there he participates less in the conversation. He only engages when he’s really sure he can hear, which isn't a lot. It's mostly one-on-one or one-on-two. He doesn't think anyone notices, but they do. Eddie most of all feels Steve’s absence even when he’s sitting right next to him. He’s noticed the anxious tension in him when they're in groups. He just isn't sure what to do. So, he sits with a Steve-sized ache in his chest. There’s a day when the ache becomes too much, though, and Eddie breaks.

Steve sits in his living room with everyone strewn about. Eddie is next to him like he usually is unless Robin was already at Steve’s first. The kids lay and sit on the rug around the coffee table. Robin is on the other side of Eddie. Nancy sits with her legs tucked under her in a big armchair. The sound of conversation and life flows around him like a pebble in a stream. His edges have been smoothed so the water can move effortlessly, never catching on his surface. He can feel that there are words in the air around him, but there are too many other things around those words. Too much background noise and laughter. He can’t dig through it all in time to figure out what anyone is saying. So, he just stays silent like he has been.

“He’s not listening again,” Dustin says frustratedly.

Eddie frowns and looks at Steve. The movement catches Steve’s attention. He turns to look at Eddie with a small smile. Then he notices that it's more than just Eddie’s eyes on him. His blood runs cold and his throat dries.

“What?” He asks cautiously, eyes flitting to everyone else before landing on Eddie.

“Be honest, can you hear us?” Eddie answers Steve’s question with his own.

“I-”

“Be honest,” Eddie warns.

“No,” Steve sighs, “most of the time I can't really. I mean, I can hear you, but I can't tell what you're saying. It all garbles together like I’m underwater or something.”

“I think it's time to go to the doctor, Stevie,” Eddie says softly.

Steve frowns, but nods. There's a nervous twist in his stomach at the thought. He agrees to make an appointment the following day. Eddie hangs behind after everyone else leaves for a little bit. He does this sometimes and Steve’s never complained. Steve’s never thought about complaining. There's no surprise when Eddie gently grabs his hand either. He does that sometimes too.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Eddie asks.

The question nearly makes Steve cry. He wants to cry so bad. He wants to cry because he misses being able to hear his friends. He wants to cry because he’s scared of what's going to happen to what's left of his hearing. He wants to cry because Eddie is standing here offering to go to his doctor’s appointment with him like he’s a child. Mostly, he wants to cry because he’s so fucking happy Eddie offered and he doesn't have to ask. Steve nods.

“Yeah, if you don't mind,” he answers with a slight waver in his voice.

Eddie smiles all sticky and sweet at him. Steve silently wonders what he did to be worthy of a smile like that.

“‘Course I don't mind. Just tell me when and where and I’m there,” Eddie promises.

And he was. Eddie drives Steve to the ENT on the morning of his appointment the next week. He sat in the waiting room until Steve was done, but the knowledge he was there was enough. It was the same thing when Steve was sent to the Audiologist two weeks later. Eddie sat in the waiting room patiently while Steve sat in a booth answering all sorts of questions and prompts. It doesn't really sink in until he sees Eddie stand from his chair. The knit of his brow tells Steve his face says it all.

“What’s the verdict?” Eddie asks.

“They’ll let me know when to come in and be fitted for my hearing aids,” he sighs with a frown.

“That’s good!” Eddie smiles as they walk out of the office.

“Good? Eds, I’m going to have hearing aids,” Steve scoffs.

“Yeah, which means you’ll, y’know, be able to hear,” Eddie points out.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Nope, no buts except yours in my van,” Eddie interrupts him and points to the passenger side as they approach the van.

Steve rolls his eyes with a small smile as he climbs in.

“I just don’t feel like it's that bad,” he admits quietly as the van choked to a start.

“How bad did they say it was?”

Steve remains silent for a beat as Eddie pulls out. He sighs and glances out the window at the building as they leave.

“I'm working with sixty percent of my hearing in one ear and seventy in the other,” he tells Eddie.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes with a shake of his head, “If the doctors say these things will help you then they’re worth a shot. M’tired of you bailing out on things- yeah, I noticed.”

Steve’s face flushes at being caught like that. He exhales slowly and nods.

“Okay,” he agrees, “I’ll give them a shot.”

A couple weeks later he’s called into the office for his hearing aids. Eddie is so quick to drop what he’s doing to go with him it nearly gives Steve whiplash. The sight of Eddie’s van pulling up gives a strange swooping sensation that he's grown used to around Eddie. The appointment itself takes around an hour. Then Steve is walking out fashioned with two white hearing aids hooked over his ears. His eyes are wide as they bounce to the television and then the clacking behind the desk. Eddie beams at him and stands. Steve looks beautiful so stunned. Hell, Eddie can admit that Steve just looks beautiful.

“C’mon, Stevie, let’s go give’em a spin,” he says with a wolfish grin.

Steve laughs and nods. They don't get far, though. Once they step foot outside Steve comes to a halt. He makes a noise that's a cross between choking and a sob. Eddie’s hands fly to examine him for injury, but there is none. Steve’s lip wobbles, his face is blotchy and red, and his warm toffee eyes are trained on the tree a few feet away. Eddie’s mouth opens to ask, but then Steve’s eyes are on him like that. His eyes overflow with more emotion than Eddie knew a human could hold.

“The birds,” Steve croaks.

“What about’em?” Eddie’s brows furrow.

He glances accusingly at the little chirping finches in the tree. Steve chuckles wetly at the sight.

“I- I can hear them. It’s been so long- I didn't even realize,” Steve shakes his head, “I don’t know the last time I’ve actually heard the birds.”

Steve’s wonder-filled gaze turns back to the birds in question. He laughs again, heartier this time at the notion. He can hear birds.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers to himself, “I’m so in love with you.”

At least he thought it was to himself. An hour ago it would have been to himself. Steve’s face whips around with huge eyes. His lips part slightly as he watches Eddie stunned. Eddie freezes, absolutely terrified. He’s so sure he just fucked it all up.

“I can hear you too,” Steve whispers.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat.

“Nah, pretty sure that was a bird too,” he attempts to joke it off.

“I really hope not,” Steve frowns.

Eddie blinks hopefully.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you too.”

Safe to say, Steve is very happy he got hearing aids.

Masterlist - beta read by @steveslilshorts

#no im not working through things around my own hearing shut up #steddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fic #steddie blurb #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #hard of hearing steve harrington

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

do you think i have forgotten?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you loved steve harrington years ago, and he loved you. now, coming back to hawkins, you find that things may not be so different.

word count: 14.1k

warnings: fluff, smut, a little angst, exes to lovers, very much idiots in love!

a/n: here it is!!! i hope u guys like it!!! it took a while but hopefully it was worth it <3

༄

A ‘welcome home’ banner hangs lopsided on the wall.

The party is smaller than the ones you’d become accustomed to at school. That didn’t matter. What did was that your favorite people were around for this one.

It was meant to be a surprise, but Nancy gave you a heads up. She knows you hate surprises, you just don’t have the heart to tell Robin, who absolutely loves surprise parties. Planning them, to be exact. So, you acted shocked, put on your biggest smile.

It was worth it for the beaming grin on your friend’s face, the tight hug as a hello.

You didn’t realize how much you missed home until now. Until you came back.

Small talk isn’t so tiring when it’s with people you really care about. Eddie and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin, even the kids are there to give you the warmest welcome you could ever have. Hugs from some of them, teasing from all of them.

It’s perfect, but there’s an obvious absence. One you’ve tried and tried not to think about. But here, in this room, with these people, you can tell that without him, there’s a space waiting to be filled.

That space has been left open in your life for years. A gaping hole. Then, when the night’s half over and you’re convinced you won’t see him, you hear one word that has memories rushing back to you. Like a flood.

“Ace.”

There’s only one person in the entire world who calls you that. Steve Harrington.

The nickname isn’t the only thing that gives him away. His voice is engraved in your head, the tone, the way it hits your ears. It’s been years since you last heard it, and still, it feels so, so familiar.

You met in high school. Gym class, actually, and you’d been deemed Ace ever since. By him.

It started with friendship, reluctant at first and then impossibly close. It grew into the kind of undeniable thing that pushed you together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In love.

He was really, really good to you. So good that you didn’t care about who his friends were or what his reputation was. You didn’t care when things changed and he went from King Steve to the best babysitter around. Over a year, you were together.

Then, he was gone.

When you told him you’d be going away for school, he was supportive, happy for you, even. Then, the day before you were set to move he sat you down and broke your heart. I can't be with you anymore, he said.

Not I don’t want to, or I won’t. Can’t. Like he had no other choice.

To this day, you’re not sure why he did it. You called over and over for weeks when you first got to school. He never picked up. You were only able to check on him through your mutual friends. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, all of them.

One day, he was the greatest thing in your life, the next, he’d completely disappeared from it. Like a ghost.

You pushed yourself through school, tried to let go of him. It got easier, but the pinch in your chest when you thought about him never quite went away. You tried being with other guys again, but nothing stuck. It felt like you were cheating, like you could never fully commit to someone else. Your mind, body, and soul still belonged to him.

It got easier eventually. You can’t remember when it did, but over time, thinking of Steve became less like a stab to the chest, and more of a pinch.

When you spoke to your friends, they’d mention him briefly. In passing, like they didn’t want to hurt you with something as simple as a name. You knew he was working at Family Video with Robin, you knew his parents were around even less than they used to be, and you knew he went on dates. Often.

Steve spent every year of you being away trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

He missed you constantly, but he felt like he’d be holding you back if he stayed with you. A distraction from your college experience, a boyfriend who couldn’t even make it to college himself. Not enough for you.

Now, seeing you at the welcome home party Robin put together, he feels like the biggest idiot in the world. Universe, even. Because how could he have let go of someone that lights up the room like a ray of fucking sunshine.

It’s pathetic that all he could say to you after all the years was his nickname for you.

You turn around after hearing it, the sight of Steve a punch in the gut. He’s just as pretty, if not more, and though he mostly looks the same, he’s grown in ways you weren’t there to see. He’s almost a stranger now.

“Steve,” you manage. “You’re here.”

“Hi.”

It took a lot of convincing from the gang for him to come. Not because he didn’t want to (he wanted to see you more than anything), but because he didn’t want to do anything to make you upset.

Your haircut is different than before, and you hold yourself in a new way, too. But, as soon as he finds your eyes he feels like he’s in high school again, laying in his bed facing you or laughing at the back of the movie theater.

He thinks of the last time he saw you, the tears leaving trails down your cheeks, the way you didn’t let yourself sob until he walked out. His stomach is in knots.

“Hi,” you hold yourself back from reaching out and poking him to make sure he’s real. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, surprise,” he sings the second word and throws up some awkward jazz hands. A glimpse of the dork you remember.

Surprise indeed.

“I can leave,” he offers in your silence. He even turns to do so before you stop him.

“No! No, it’s just- it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. It’s too late for that, and as much as you want to know what happened, why he ended things and just… vanished, you aren’t so stuck on that anymore. Four years is a long time.

You aren’t mad about it, it just never fully left your head.

“How was school?” He asks. Safe, easy.

“Well, I graduated. So, that’s something.”

A wink of a smile has the corners of his mouth twitching up. You’re different, but you’re also the same girl he knew. It’s nice to see again, to have hope that he didn’t destroy you.

“I knew you would,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to feeling so awkward around you. “You can write your own essays, after all.”

That one makes you huff a laugh, makes you think back to late nights spent helping him fix up his writing. Red pen doodles and way too many distractions.

“One of my many talents,” you say.

There’s another pause, a stillness that feels so wrong for the both of you. He put the distance there, and he hates himself for it. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m home.”

Yes, he thinks. You are home. Hawkins was missing something without you in it. Or maybe that was just him. Missing something without you.

Just as you’re pulled away into a conversation with Robin and Max, Steve grasps your wrist gently. Your skin burns with the familiarity of his touch. Aches with the memory.

“It’s good to see you, Ace.”

Then, in a blink, he lets you go.

When you turn away, Eddie comes up beside Steve, claps a hand on his back. “Nice, man. Not weird at all.”

“Shut it, Munson.”

Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. He searches for you when he hears you laugh, can feel his pulse jump when you throw your head back the way you always have. He lets his eyes linger when he knows he shouldn’t.

You catch him once. You can feel his stare on you like a breeze, tickling the back of your neck. When you turn towards him your eyes lock, just for a moment.

Hawkins is mostly the same. The stores on Main Street still have worn awnings, letters faded and colors dimmed. The arcade sign still flickers, Enzo’s is still the best restaurant. The movies where Steve used to take you on dates, his house with his BMW in the driveway.

It’s hard to be back and not let Steve bleed into everything.

At school, it was easy not to think about him. You’d bury yourself in studying and projects. Here, he’s everywhere you look. The town is painted with memories of you and him. He’s written all over the place.

You thought you were over what happened, that you could come home and not let it phase you. You had no idea it’d be like this.

Despite it all, you’re glad to be home. You like waking up to the peacefulness of light wind and leaves rustling. It’s a lot nicer than a dorm building full of students and the constant noise of the city.

You’re tremendously happy to be so close to your friends again, too. There’s no more worrying about whether or not you’ll see them anytime soon, no more sporadic phone calls that just make you miss them more.

But still, there’s that empty space. Steve-shaped.

The next time you see him you’d decided to visit Robin at work. It took you about a week of being home to get yourself to go into Family Video, knowing Steve works there. You have to get used to him again.

Sure enough, when you walked in, there he stood. Green vest and all.

When the bell above the door jingles to signal your entrance, Steve turns to look at you. He sets down the box of stock he’d been holding, and your eyes follow the way his arms flex before you can tell them not to.

“Ace, hi.”

“Hey,” you send a short wave his way, rocking on your feet. “I’m just meeting Robin for lunch.”

He probably knows that, but you say it anyway, trying to fill the void of silence that hums between you.

“Yeah. She’s in the back already,” he says. “I can show you.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He almost places a hand at the small of your back to guide you, just like he used to. It’d be so natural, so simple. Instead, he clenches his fist by his side and shuffles in front of you, nodding his head for you to

follow.

“So, um,” he stops in front of the door to the back, turning to face you. “We still do movie nights. All of

us, like we used to. You should come.”

“Are you sure?”

Movie nights are always at Steve’s, and you don’t want to be there if it’ll cause any problems, as much as you’ve missed the sense of tradition. Routine.

“There’s an open spot on the couch for you anyway. Always has been.”

When you were away, you worried your friends would replace you. Forget about you, even. That clearly wasn’t the case.

“I’d love to go. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“As long as you still don’t mind Eddie talking through the important parts.”

You shake your head, a small, close-mouthed smile on your face.

“Wouldn’t be a movie night without it.”

The bell above the door rings again, and Steve turns to see the customer. “I should get back.”

You nod. You watch him go, watch him greet the woman who walked in with his classic smile.

You just have to get used to him again, that’s all.

Walking the steps up to the Harrington’s front door is something you’ve done time and time again. So, it shouldn’t feel so odd, really.

It used to be an almost daily occurrence. Now, it takes you some mental preparation before you can bring yourself to knock on the door. This time, it isn’t Steve who answers, it’s Robin. You’re grateful for it, because stepping into his house again is already a bunch to take in.

“You came!” She says, grinning.

“Of course I did. I missed movie nights a bunch.”

You really, really did.

While you had a couple of friends in Indianapolis, the connections were shallow. Especially compared to what you have here. There, they were friendships formed from convenience. Roommates or project partners. It was a lot lonelier than you let on.

“We missed you, too.” Robin walks you into the living room, where cheers of your name ensue.

“Look who it is,” Eddie speaks from where he sits on the ground in front of the TV, setting things up.

There’s a shift from the loud, giddy greetings when Steve walks into the room, bowl of popcorn in hand. It’s like everyone’s waiting for one of you to burst.

“Hey. You made it,” Steve says. No bursting, just some sort of tension that hasn’t gone away since you saw him at your party.

“Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Surprised one of them didn’t beat me to it,” he nods at your friends that are scattered across the couches. Your friends whose eyes are ping-ponging between you both.

It’s almost like you can feel everyone take a breath of relief when you plant yourself by the armrest of the sofa. When you shoot Steve a small, barely-there smile. A peace offering.

Halfway through the movie—broken up by constant Eddie commentary, and various ways of someone telling him to stuff it—Steve notices the way you’re curled up, cardigan pulled tight over your body.

He reaches across Robin to hand you a blanket wordlessly. She nudges his shoulder when you aren’t looking, gives him a look that tells him she knows something, even if he doesn’t.

He’s always been attentive, but you’re surprised when the soft fabric is passed over. You wonder if he realizes it’s the blanket you’d always reach for when you were over. If he realizes he handed you the one you’d cuddled him under countless times.

He doesn’t, you’re sure. Why on earth would he remember those things? Or even care?

After that night, the group slowly becomes whole again. The others stop planning separate things with you or Steve. It’s like they waited for you to get acclimated to being around each other again, tested the waters.

It’s as sweet as it is sad. You never wanted to mess anything up, make anything harder.

Though you see Steve a lot more often, your interactions with him remain short and distant. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to feeling so far away from him.

While you were away, over time, the memories became less vivid, as did the pictures that still sit in your bedroom at home. Sun damaged and faded. Your feelings, though, they never really dimmed, only pushed to the back of your mind and shoved into a box labeled Steve.

That box has been bursting at the seams.

Still, you try to keep it shut, to push it all aside and be friends with him again. Or, friendly, at the very least.

Steve keeps a framed picture of you in a drawer in his bedside table. Maybe that’s weird. It used to sit atop of the table, but he moved it when it got too hard to look at your face without thinking of how it looked when you cried.

Having you around again is hard, but it’s more so a relief. He’s missed you so, so much, and even though things aren’t the same and they might never be again, he’ll take you in his life any way he can have you. And this is a start.

The hardest part, he thinks, is burying all the things he never got to say. I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s no use now, he knows that, so he swallows the words down. They make his stomach ache.

He needs to distract himself from it all, because it’s too much. Seeing your face almost every day again, not being able to reach out and hold it like he used to.

It’s way too much.

You got a job at Enzo’s to keep yourself busy.

While you’d love to stay buried in your bed all day, or walk around aimlessly until you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting by the water and listening to it move, your parents decided it’d be better for you to do something valuable with your time.

Besides, waitressing isn’t so bad. You mostly work nights, allowing you the sleep-ins you love so much, there’s not so much pressure when you already know most of the people you serve, and the tips are always nice.

It’s mostly a breeze—besides a spill incident—until Steve shows up there on a date. Seated in your section.

Your coworker had warned you, “new table for you. Looks like a date.” And there he was. His hair done like always (does he still use Farrah Fawcett spray?) and his dress shirt a little wrinkled.

When it’s time to head over, you shut your eyes and take a grounding breath, slap on your customer service smile. You introduce yourself like you always do, the ‘I’ll be your waitress for this evening’ spiel.

Steve looks up from the menu as soon as he hears your voice. He’s stunned, eyes wide and mouth ever-so-slightly agape while he looks at you. He tries to recover quickly. If he’d known you were working tonight he never would have brought his date here, never would have subjected you to that on purpose. He feels like shit.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” You say. Waitress persona engaged, praying your face doesn’t look forced.

She orders first. Her voice is sweet, and she’s pretty. Why'd she have to be so pretty?

“Just water for me. Thanks, Ace,” Steve says, letting the nickname slip. It’s like he can’t hold it in around you.

“‘Course.” You turn quickly to get their drinks.

“Ace?” Steve’s date, Becky, asks.

“We’re friends. From school. Just a nickname.”

He simplifies it. There’s no point in telling the whole story. It’s over—he’s had to remind himself of that constantly—and it’s his fault. Not the type of thing he needs to share on a first date, that’s for sure.

“Oh, okay. So, what are you getting?” Somehow, she accepts the answer easily.

You shouldn’t feel so shaken by this. Really, you shouldn’t. You were with Steve ages ago, and it’s been over. You don’t have any sort of claim over him anymore. None.

So why is your stomach twisting every time you catch him smiling at something she says?

All you know is that it won’t do you any good to think about that too much. You busy yourself with getting their drinks instead. You approach the table carefully, not wanting to spill anything.

“For you,” you set her drink down. She thanks you. She’s nice, too. “And, water for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?”

It’s like you’re on autopilot, repeating the same phrases you do to every single table, hoping that it comes out sounding natural.

“I think we’re good,” Steve says, gesturing for his date to go first.

He almost feels like he should apologize to you. Then again, maybe he’s reading into things too far. As much as he feels like he can tell when you’re uncomfortable, when your smile is forced, he has no idea if your habits are the same as they used to be.

You’re cautious not to let your hands touch when you collect the menu from Steve.

The rest of their dinner is much the same, and you’re grateful any time you can distract yourself with a different table. Your actions are stiff, your words practically robotic.

Still, before he leaves, Steve leaves you a tip and a scrawled note on a crumpled receipt: ‘Thank you. Sorry for the ambush. -Steve.’

You still have notes from him, in that same, charmingly messy handwriting, buried in a shoebox in your closet. Notes you didn’t have time to get rid of in your rush to move. Notes you should probably get rid of.

Not only did he leave you a note, he was outside waiting for you when your shift was over.

He wasn’t going to wait. He was going to leave it at the note and hope that you weren’t bothered as much as he thought you might be. Maybe it was stupid to think you’d be affected by him being with someone else in front of you after all this time, but he couldn’t ignore the instinct he got when he saw the look on your face. The guilt he felt.

He catches you as you walk out the door, startling you a bit, “Ace, wait up.”

“God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to your car. He’d parked two spots over. “Actually, I just wanted to say that. Sorry, I mean.”

“You already said that,” he tilts his head, a question. “On your note.”

“I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose. I didn’t know you worked at Enzo’s until tonight, actually.”

“I haven’t been for long,” you amend. “I’m not upset with you, Steve.”

The words hold a lot more meaning than you expected. You really aren’t upset with him, not over tonight, and not over what happened years ago. You’re more upset with yourself for letting it get to you even now.

“Good. That’s- I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words are heavy, too. You’re too tired to hold the weight.

“What about your date?” You stop next to your car. He stops, too.

“I drove her home already. Came back after.”

Really, he was halfway home after dropping off Becky, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he’d caused even more strain on your relationship. He turned around without a second thought.

“She seems nice,” you say.

“Yeah,” he looks around the parking lot, stares at the streetlight for a second. “So, we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you confirm.

You can’t help but hope that saying it out loud will make things feel better with him. That maybe, you could be some sort of friends again.

He nods, “okay. Sorry again,” he searches for his keys in his pocket, “have a good night, Ace.”

He walks the short distance to his car while you fumble to unlock yours. Climbing in and shutting the door, you let your head fall against the steering wheel, forehead pressed to it.

What a night.

Steve’s seen Becky a few times since the date at Enzo’s.

She is nice, and he does like her, but he hasn’t been able to let her kiss him anywhere other than the cheek. So far, she hasn’t said anything, but he knows that he won’t be able to dodge her without question for much longer.

When you were gone, though it took time, he was able to be with other people. It never lasted long, and he rarely went through with things without thinking of you at least once. He can’t even give someone a peck on the mouth.

It’s like as soon as he thinks he can lean in and do it, his mind is all Ace Ace Ace, and he finds he can’t.

He’s trying his best to ignore it, to hope that in getting used to you being back, he’ll get used to not being with you, too. So far, it hasn’t been working very well. He dreams more often than not, and even in sleep, he can’t seem to escape your face.

Instead of digging into whatever mess he’s sure that’ll cause, he’s been seeing Becky.

It’s unfair, he knows it is. To her and to you, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He isn’t thinking straight because you’ve rushed back into his life so quickly he can’t catch up. He’s trying to bury the feelings he has for you by focusing on someone else.

Though, maybe focusing isn’t the right word, because his mind still wanders to you. A bunch.

He’s confused and he’s scared and he misses you. He doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s pushing to the surface once again now that you’re home, and he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of what it’s sure to become. What might’ve never even left.

He misses you but he can’t do anything about that. So, Becky it is.

The breeze tickles your cheeks as you make your way through the trailer park in search of any of your friends.

Somehow, Eddie and his band managed to make their own gig out by the picnic tables, and, of course, he’d invited the group to come watch. When you first became friends with Eddie, he was reluctant to let you all in on his music. Now, though, he lets everyone know there’s a spot for them saved at every performance.

You follow the noise, finding where a small crowd of people has formed by the tables that have been pushed together to serve as a stage. Probably an unsafe one, at that, but it’s Eddie. He cheers when he spots you from where he stands on the middle table.

“She’s here!”

“Can't miss the first show I’m back for, can I?”

“The rockstar would not have that,” Robin says, giving you a quick side hug.

“Thank you for calling me a rockstar,” Eddie replies.

You say your hellos to the others, Nancy, sitting on the bench attached to the table Eddie’s stood on, Jonathan, fiddling with his camera.

“Is Steve not coming?” You ask. Hopefully in a casual way.

“No, he is,” Nancy says.

“Likes to be fashionably late,” is what Robin has to say.

You nod, turning your attention to Eddie, “so, how many of these songs are new?”

“To these fools, none,” he points lazily around the group. “To you, all of them.” He smiles, and it makes you smile, too. You’ve missed being able to support him in person.

“Can’t wait to hear them, then.”

“Dingus!” Robin yells happily.

You know she’s talking about Steve. You turn around to find him. Probably too quickly.

“Hey guys,” he waves. It’s then you notice that he’s not alone. His date that he took to Enzo’s is with him. She waves, too, her arm curled around Steve’s. “This is Becky.”

She’s met with polite greetings. Your mouth, for some reason, stays shut.

Robin comes to stand beside you. She looks at your expression, the shock that you shake your head to clear, the tiniest bit of hurt that lingers in your eyes. You look at her, and she raises her eyebrows at you, are you okay? It’s silent, but you know it’s what she’s asking.

Isn’t that a question. You don’t know why your stomach sinks when you see her with him. Again. Well, maybe you do know, you just don’t want to accept it. The feelings you’d had for Steve were meant to be long, long gone.

Only, since being home, you’ve realized they aren’t.

Even though things with Steve have been far from the same as before, even as when you were friends, he’s still Steve. He’s the kind boy you knew, only older. He still cares about the kids the way an older sibling would, he still puts his friends before anything, and he’s still the greatest person you know.

You simply shrug at Robin.

Then, Becky’s in front of you, “we already met, right?”

“Yeah, um, hi.”

“Hi. It’s nice to at least have a familiar face here.”

God, you want to dislike her so bad, but you really can’t. She’s kind, and she’s clearly making an effort to make a good impression. It’s annoying.

Steve knows he probably shouldn’t have brought her with him, but she’s been asking to meet his friends so frequently and he figured that Eddie’s gig would be as good a time as ever. At least here, there’s a crowd to hide in.

He really does like Becky, just not in the way he’s supposed to. He thinks he might’ve spent all of those feelings on you, and there’s no way he’s getting them back.

Eddie jumps down from the table and pulls Steve aside, “what are you doing?”

“Dunno what you mean.” He does, actually. Only, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Come on, man. You can't tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you,” Eddie’s not talking about Becky. He’s talking about you.

“She doesn’t look at me. Not like that.”

“Sometimes you really are an idiot, you know? She looks at you like you put the fucking moon in the sky, all melty and shit.”

“She used to look at me like that. I fucked it up. That’s gone, okay?”

“Is it gone for you?” Eddie says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says. When he looks at you, however, it feels like it matters. A lot.

“Just saying. Think you might’ve brought the wrong lady.”

Steve already feels bad about what he’s trying to do with Becky. Seeing her to distract himself from you. He hates that even his friends are seeing through it. Is it really that obvious?

Eddie turns away to finish setting up with the band. Steve sees Becky talking to you of all people and he almost smacks himself right there. He’s so, so stupid. He walks over, into the mess he’s created.

“Hey, Ace,” he nods at you quickly, then turns to Becky. “Why don’t we go find a spot to sit?”

“We aren’t watching here?”

Steve looks between you and her quickly. Really, he’s just trying to save you from having to talk to her. He can still tell when you’re itching to get out of a conversation.

“Think the speakers might be too loud for you, babe.”

You miss whatever reply she gives him, stuck on his use of the word babe. The last time you heard it come from his mouth, he was saying it to you. It stings even though it shouldn’t.

It’s over. It’s been over. So why is it so hard to forget about it?

You never really got used to seeing Steve with Becky.

He didn’t bring her around often—maybe for your sake—but when he did, you’d find yourself keeping your distance. At least one person between you and them, like a buffer.

It felt like the progress you’d made with Steve, with not feeling so far away around him, was disappearing every time you saw her standing with him. You hated it, how you let things affect you.

A couple of weeks went on that way. Then, you got a phone call.

You’d been sitting on your bed, back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. The shrill ringing came from your bedside table, and you leaned over to pick it up mindlessly.

“Hello?”

“Ace.”

It’s Steve. He hasn’t called you since you’ve been back. His utterance of your nickname sounds like a breath of relief.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

“Can I come see you?”

“What?” You’re convinced you misheard him, or that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise,” he pauses. “Well, I broke up with Becky. But I’m good, okay?”

He broke up with Becky? He broke up with Becky and decided to call you. You’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“You- did something happen?”

“No, no. Just- I’ll explain everything. Let me see you.”

It's hard to say no to him, and you can’t help but be worried. You say yes, a quiet word whispered into the phone.

“Thank you,” he says. “See you soon, Ace.”

“Bye.”

You barely get the word out before the sound of his phone being hung up echoes in your ear. It’s only then, in the silence of your room, that you notice your heart pounding, a heavy thump in your chest.

Steve knows it’s selfish to want to see you now, after he’s just broken up with someone. It’s the first actual breakup he’s had since being with you, and yet, he’s not even upset. He just wants to see you.

Sure, he liked Becky, but she could never really erase his thoughts of you. He felt awful about staying with her for the reasons he did. So, he broke it off.

Now, he's knocking on your window.

The tapping wouldn’t be so noticeable if you hadn’t been waiting for it. He never did like using the front door.

You open the window for him, move backwards a couple of steps to give him enough room to stumble inside, hair a little messy, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, devastatingly pretty.

It brings you back to high school. Steve, sneaking through your window at night just to fall asleep with you, his arms a safety net, his steady breathing a lullaby. Steve, peering at you through the glass with that grin of his. Steve.

“You know you can use the door, right?” You say.

“Not my style,” he takes a second to look at you. “Hi, Ace.”

You shift on your feet.

“Hi.”

“I know this is…” He trails off. There’s not really a single word for it. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You mean it. Even after everything, he’s Steve over it all. Your Steve, who was the greatest friend you ever had and, somehow, an even better boyfriend. He’s never been horrible to you; not even close.

Sure, he broke your heart and fell away from your life right after that, but you know him. You know there’s something he hasn’t told you about that, and if letting him in through your window again is a step closer to hearing it, you’re willing to take it.

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t think you could ever really lose me, Steve.”

That hits him in the gut, a painful twist. Because he thought he did. Yes, he broke up with you (he regretted it very quickly), but he’d fought the urge to pick up the phone and call you at school more times than he can count.

“You’re a good person, Ace.”

He’s tiptoeing around whatever he wants to say to you. You talk softly, “why’d you want to see me?”

“I just needed to make sure you knew something.”

“What is it?”

“Just- I never kissed Becky. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it so plainly. There’s a wince on his face when he does. Small, but you catch it all the same.

“Robin said you were dating people, though.”

“Yeah, but I never kissed them. Ever. I couldn't.”

He slept with people—which was still hard—but to him, nothing feels as intimate as a kiss. He could never bring himself to cross that line with someone else. Not after how you would kiss him. The way everything else would melt away.

“I need you to know that. And I broke up with Becky because I couldn’t be with her without thinking of-” he stops, shakes his head, like he can’t get the words out. His eyes are holding onto yours when he says, “-someone else.”

“You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“I guess I did.”

He hadn’t thought about what comes next, what to do or say. Hell, he could barely even say what he meant in the first place. He wanted to say he’d been thinking of you, but the word got stuck in his throat. He hopes you can still read him enough to know what he meant.

“So, you were with Becky… why, exactly?”

“I thought- I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to push, um, someone else out of my mind if I was with her. I wasn’t, obviously.”

You’re practically speechless. Never would you have imagined that Steve was still thinking of you in any way, let alone so much so that he couldn’t fully give himself to anyone else.

Then again, you were never able to do that, either.

“I don’t know what to say,” you shrug, shoulder to your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything, really,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You hate to be the one putting it there. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Steve. We aren’t together, I know that.”

He hasn’t been able to forget about that for a day. It’s like his life without you in it was a permanent winter. The snow never melting, the cold sinking into his bones. He hadn’t even realized it until you came back.

The wind picked up, frostbite ate away at him. Then, just like that, the sun was shining again. He hopes the snow will thaw soon.

He feels like an idiot right now. An idiot who can't spit out the right words and who can't leave you alone even when he knows he should.

“I should go.”

“Steve-”

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for dropping all of that on you.”

He’s turning his back to you, opening the window, worrying you all over again.

“You can stay.” Please, stay.

“I’m really sorry, Ace.”

Sorry for letting you go, sorry for disappearing, sorry for being a coward, sorry for fucking things up even now.

By the time you gather your wits enough to walk to the window, he’s crossing your lawn quickly. You watch him go until his figure fades into the night, the wind a low whisper in the air.

You do a lot of thinking that night, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. After what might be twenty minutes or two hours, you find you aren’t upset with Steve in the slightest. If anything, you’re worried.

And maybe, selfishly, a little hopeful, too.

It’s not even the breakup itself. It’s the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered and his frustration seemed to soften just a little when he looked at you. It’s the way he had to make sure you knew he hasn’t kissed anyone since you, that he called and came over just to tell you that.

Maybe you should be angry, but all you feel when you think about Steve is something you’d convinced yourself was long gone. A feeling with wings, fluttering.

You decide that you need to talk to him again.

That decision has you walking through the door of Family Video early the next day, when you’re sure it won’t be busy. You had to double check with Robin that Steve was the one opening (you could practically see her knowing smirk through the phone), and sure enough, he stands behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of the store. Steve glances up to find you, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure you’re really there.

“Am I dreaming?” He says.

Steve was convinced you’d never want to see his face again after the shit he pulled last night. After dumping information on you that you hadn’t asked for, then leaving as soon as he got scared.

“If you are, so am I.”

“Robin’s not here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to after…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed to have to bring it up.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel like I should be asking you.”

“Steve.”

His name still sounds the best in your voice, he thinks.

“I’m okay, promise. Last night, I guess I just- I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. While I was gone.” Every single day since I left, I missed you.

You’ve both felt it for a long time, but now’s the first time someone’s been brave enough to say it. The words settle in the air for a moment, hanging between you.

“I’m sorry, Ace. For everything.”

You want to fall into his arms as easily as you used to, to squeeze him and tell him it’s okay, it can be okay, if you try hard enough. The counter standing between you stops you from it, maybe for the better.

“Do you think- do you think maybe we can be friends again?”

I don’t know if I can just be your friend, he thinks. Not after knowing what it’s like to kiss you and wake up beside you, to touch you and love you. If it’s the only way to keep you around, though, he’ll give it all he has.

“I’d like that.”

Your smile is almost shy, but it’s there.

“We used to be better at this. Talking, I mean,” you say, trying to be light.

“We’ll get better again.”

It’s quiet again, save for the murmur of whatever movie Steve chose for the morning playing on the TV.

“I hope you know I haven’t been, like, holding a grudge, or anything. I forgave you a long time ago.”

You had to, even when it still hurt, even when you still wonder why things changed so quickly. He’s a human as much as you are, and letting things fester for years wouldn't do either of you any good.

Still, like any wound, it still bleeds from time to time.

“Doesn’t change that I’m sorry, Ace.”

You shy away from the sincerity in his stare, from the brown in his eyes that could so easily draw you back into him completely.

He bends to catch your eye, though, making sure you know he means it.

Letting yourself get close to Steve again is easy, it’s the friendship that’s hard.

He’s a good friend, you see it in his interactions with everyone around you. He’s a good friend and still, you can’t stop thinking about the kind of boyfriend he is. Caring and loving, full of touches to give, a hand on you whenever it could be. You miss the warmth of that hand.

You keep that to yourself , though, because things are better. So much better.

You and Steve don’t avoid each other anymore, the smiles aren’t so forced or small, the words not so careful. The only subject you stay away from is the breakup, and even then, you don’t think about it so much now that he’s around again. You think about everything before that. The good and the in love, sticky and sweet.

Tonight, he’s convinced you to come along and chauffeur the kids to the arcade. In turn, you’ve convinced him to go inside with you.

The various neon lights bathe your skin, blues and oranges, pinks and greens. You can't help but think they glow a little nicer on Steve’s face.

“What’s the first game gonna be?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder as you walk between the rows of games.

“Your choice, Ace. This was your idea.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug a shoulder, grinning.

Falling into conversation with Steve proves to still feel natural. You’ve gotten the chance to spend time with him more since you talked that morning at Family Video, and it’s paid off. Light teasing and check-ins are what they used to be before.

The part that still makes your heart beat faster, almost like it’s trying to find his, is what hangs in the silence. There's knowledge there; the silence used to be comfortable, and now, it’s full of questions and tension. What’s too much? What crosses the line of friendship you’ve had to draw?

If you’re being honest, being Steve’s friend almost makes you miss him more. You had to do it this way, though, if only to protect yourself from losing him ever again.

You’ve been pushing away any thoughts of Steve as a boyfriend as far away as you can.

“Okay,” you stop in front of Pac-Man.

“A classic,” he nods, putting change into the slot. “Ladies first.”

“Scared, Harrington?”

“Of you?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Of what he feels for you, maybe.

You play well, and Steve watches your hands move as you do. He watches your eyes as they flit about the screen, your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. Watches, still, when you throw your head back and groan when you lose.

“My turn,” he says, bumping you over with his hips.

Despite his confidence, Steve loses really, really fast.

“It’s broken,” he declares.

“It’s not,” you say. “Try again.”

“You just like to see me lose.”

You wiggle your way in front of him so that his arms cage you in, one on either side of you, leaning on the game. “I’ll show you.”

He hopes he isn’t breathing as hard as he thinks he is. He can feel the ghost of your back against his chest, so, so close. He slips another coin into the slot and lets you guide his hands to the controls.

His hands are just as warm as you remember. Solid and softer than they look. You refrain from interlocking your fingers with his and focus on guiding him through the game. It’d be so easy to hold his hand, though. Muscle memory.

This time around, even when the screen tells him ‘game over,’ Steve feels like he’s won something at the slightest bit of contact you’d initiated.

Dustin finds the two of you, still playing Pac-Man, and taps his wrist. Duty calls.

After dropping the kids off, the car much quieter, you let yourself look at Steve as he drives. His side profile, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw, the way he squints at road signs.

“You should be wearing your glasses,” you say. You’re not even sure if he still has them.

“You know I hate those things.”

It’s true, you do know that. He barely even wore them around you when you’d been dating. They made him shy, even though you told him he looks pretty either way, any way.

You find that you still know a lot of things.

You still know him. You know that he owns a pair of reading glasses. You know that he scratches the back of his neck when he’s nervous. You know that he knuckles at his eyes when he doesn’t get enough sleep. You know that he sunburns easiest on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. You know him. All the small things, some he may not even know himself.

You might’ve missed some stuff, but really, you still know him. You still love him, too.

That realization hits you, a gust of wind strong enough to knock you off-balance if you weren’t sitting. You’ve been trying and trying to keep it all away. Yet, here you are, looking at the strand of hair that falls over Steve's forehead, realizing you love him all over again in the passenger seat of his BMW.

Maybe you never really stopped.

“Ace, did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You blink and suddenly he’s looking at you, too. And the car’s not moving. When did that happen?

“You zoned out on me, I think,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing that strand you'd been focused on back into place. “We’re here.”

Your house, he means.

“Sorry. Thank you for driving,” you say, reaching for the handle and popping the door open. You bonk your head in your haste to get out.

“Shit! You okay?” He says, his hand reaching for you even though you’re too far to touch.

“Yup! Never better.”

Terrified by the four letter word that hasn’t left your head since it came back in, you can’t help but try to get away from Steve, from the boy who’s drawn the feeling from you in the first place without even trying. You hurry to the door with a rushed ‘bye!’

Steve stares at your front door even after you’ve closed it, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a confused pout. He wonders what you were thinking about as he tried to grab your attention the whole way home.

Steve’s made a habit of visiting you at work.

If you’re working during the day, he’ll drive over on his lunch breaks and be sure to be seated in your section. If you’re working evenings, he’ll make some excuse about not wanting to cook dinner and still, he requests your section.

He‘s been coming so often that the hostesses don’t even wait for him to ask, they just nod and seat him at one of your tables.

You’ve had a lot of time to let your rediscovered love for Steve simmer, but it’s always there, making you smile like an idiot when you see him, making you stop yourself from reaching for his hand whenever it’s close enough.

It was naive of you to think you could limit yourself to friendly feelings for him. You know that now.

Walking out of the back, you find him sitting at what has become his usual table. A small round one, usually for two. The chair across from him empty. You like that better than when Becky was the one sitting in it.

“I’m starting to think you have no kitchen at all,” you say, standing behind the empty seat, leaning a hand on top of it.

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, you know you don’t have to come here to see me.”

“I want to come here to see you.”

Really, at this point, Steve thinks he’d be happy to visit you anywhere. Because of that, he’s definitely spending way too much money at Enzo’s.

“Okay then,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, then grab your notepad to write down his order. “What’ll it be this time?”

As much as Steve wishes you could sit down with him, he knows you have a job to do, so he gives you his order and takes any minute of conversation you can give him.

He watches you tend to the other tables you have, your smile and the way you talk, your mannerisms and the pattern of your steps. Often, he wonders if he’d still be sitting here, watching you with something in his eyes that can only be described as longing, if he never broke up with you that day. He likes to think he would be, only he’d be allowed to kiss you goodbye the way he so often wants to.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking to believe he could get to do that again, one day.

Since he felt your hands over his those weeks ago at the arcade, he’s decided he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, and do his best to prove that he won’t hurt you again.

Steve’s never stopped loving you, not for a second, and seeing your face again only reminded him of that. Being your friend again only amplified it.

Even worse, all of your friends are well aware of this. They never let him hear the end of it.

“Here you go,” you say, putting his food in front of him.

He shoots you a quick smile, “thank you.”

“‘Course. And don’t bother paying this time, it’s on me.”

“Don’t do that, I’m paying.”

“I already did it, okay? Just shut up and let me.”

When you walk away, he shakes his head and smiles at your retreating figure. Classic Ace, he thinks, so insistent on doing nice things. Yeah, he’ll wait years if he has to.

You chat with him when you can, telling him about a customer who’d yelled at you earlier in your shift over something so small, you can’t even remember why they were angry in the first place. He laughed through your story and offered to find the person and beat them up for you.

You reminded him that he usually loses fights.

A stern talking to, then, he’d said.

You giggled. Laughs like that came easy with Steve.

You were busy when he left, but when you went over to clean his table you’d found enough money left behind to pay for his food and give you a tip. You rolled your eyes at that. That’s Steve, always being the one to take care of everyone else. He can’t even let you pay for one damm meal.

He’d also left a note scrawled on a Family Video sticky note.

Thanks for letting me bug you again. Hope you’re not sick of me! -Steve x (and keep your money, please).

You folded it into a neat square and put it in your back pocket. This was a habit of his, too; leaving notes behind after he’d leave. So far, you’ve kept them all, in that same shoebox in your closet from high school.

You’re absolutely hopeless.

Steve didn’t have an excuse to call you, he just really wanted to see you. Or, hear your voice, at least.

“Hello?” You picked up after a couple rings.

“Ace. You busy today?”

“Mmm apart from laying down all day, no.”

“You wanna come lay down all day here?”

If he couldn’t hear you then, you would drop your face into your pillow and squeal. Instead, you press your free hand to your cheek and try to suppress your stupid grin.

“I guess I can shuffle some things around.”

“You’re awful,” he says. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep.”

A click and it’s quiet again.

It��s not even half an hour later that you’re knocking on the Harrington’s door. Steve opens up quickly (he’d been standing near the door waiting for you) and moves aside to let you in.

Steve scans your outfit as you walk ahead of him. You’re clad in slouchy sweats. He thinks you look beautiful. He thinks it all of the time, but there’s something about you being comfortable enough with him not to dress up that warms him from the inside out.

It reminds him of how you used to walk around his house, whenever his parents weren’t there, in your underwear and his softest t-shirt.

Baby steps, he thinks.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as you plop down onto his couch.

“I'm okay. A little tired.”

“I did ruin your plans of laying around, didn't I?”

“Ruin’s not the right word,” you say. You’d much rather be in his company than buried in your bed, anyway.

He sits next to you after turning on the TV, letting whatever’s playing stay on. There’s a respectable distance between you, your thighs close, but not touching.

“Are you happy you came back here?” Steve turns his head toward you. Here, as in Hawkins. Here, as in with him.

Your head pivots toward him, cheek on your shoulder. Your eyes find his. “Yes. Really happy.”

“Me too.”

There are a million things you could say, but then, in that moment, it feels like you don’t have to. Something silent is being shared. You look back at the TV and sink into the cushions.

As time goes on, your eyes grow heavier, blinking slowly trying to stay awake. Steve notices when your head falls forward a little and you force it back up.

“You’re tired.”

“Worked the closing shift last night.”

“You can lay down. I meant it when I said you

could do that here.”

“I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

You frown at him. “But then you’ll be all alone.”

“Just lay down, Ace.”

You roll your eyes but do it anyway. You’d actually been ready to nap when Steve called, but figured sleep could wait.

He tries not to overthink it when he gently places a hand on the side of your head, urging you to use his lap as your pillow. You go easily and blame it on your sleepy mind.

Instinctively, once you’re settled with your cheek on his thigh, Steve pets your hair from your face. He pulls his hand back, afraid of overstepping, but you miss his touch.

“No, don’t. Feels nice.”

“Okay,” he almost whispers.

Steve’s hand goes back to your hair, pushing it from your face, letting his fingers get tangled in it before pulling them back and doing it again. You fall asleep quickly, surrounded by Steve’s scent.

You nap for about forty minutes. Steve’s hand doesn’t stop at all, afraid that you’d wake up. He hasn’t paid much attention to the TV. Instead, he’s been tracing the details of your face over and over with his eyes.

Your eyelashes kissing the skin of your under eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips are slightly parted and pouting. He’s known it for years now, but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

All soft and, by his standard, absolutely perfect.

Self-indulgently, he lets his hand wander from your hair, the back of his index finger tracing a delicate line from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheek. You stir and he feels guilty.

“Did I wake you?”

You blink your eyes open and squint, turning so you lay on your back rather than your side, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh,” you say, even though he did.

If you were woken up like that every day, well, you’d become a morning person.

“Liar.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head, you yawn. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod, even though there’s a kink in your neck from the way you had it perched on his lap. You don’t care, it was the best sleep you’d had for a while.

You sit up and stretch until something cracks.

“Thanks for being my pillow.”

“Steve Harrington, human pillow, at your service.”

You push his shoulder lightly, “dork.”

You both laugh lightly. The sound fades when you realize how close your faces are. You reach up and brush the skin under his eye with your thumb.

“Eyelash,” you explain.

“Make a wish.”

When you were young, you wished on every birthday cake candle, every shooting star, that you’d find your person. Then, in your time with Steve, you wished to keep it. Now, as you blow the lash off your finger, you wish to have it back.

“Done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“If it ever comes true, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, the tips of your noses brush. You can't stop your eyes from flicking to his mouth with him this close, you can feel his breaths, warm puffs of air against your skin.

Steve’s hand creeps up to cradle the back of your neck so gently you could cry. He uses it to guide you forward until your forehead is pushed against his.

“Steve.”

The whisper of his name is what snaps the rubber band. Steve tips your head up and kisses you.

It’s everything you remembered, and everything you’d forgotten, too. His lips are still soft, they still fit with yours the way puzzle pieces click together. Over time, you forgot how his feelings poured out of him when he’d kiss you. Now, he’s shy with it, slow-moving.

He pulls away, just for a second, to look at you, to check that you’re okay. You chase his mouth and he’s a goner, diving back in and inhaling deep at the feeling.

You can feel yourself melting into him, getting lost in the press of his lips against yours.

It hits you that Steve hasn’t kissed anyone since he was with you. That it’s been years since he’s last done this. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.

This is a big thing. Kissing Steve again is a big and scary thing. His free hand laying itself on your thigh jolts you out of it. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pulling his hands away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s just- I shouldn’t have done that.”

You’re supposed to be pushing your feelings aside. You’re supposed to be friends, that’s it. You’re not supposed to let it get to this point again, because you know how it feels when it ends. That can’t happen again.

“No, Ace. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry, okay?” You stand up, almost dizzy. “I’m just gonna go, I think.”

“Hey, come on. Stay. It won’t happen again.”

“I just need to, um, clear my head.”

You hurry to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as fast as possible. Steve catches your wrist loosely as you reach for the door.

“You can talk to me. You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to think, Steve,” you open the door. This time, he lets you. Before you close it you turn to him, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

All he can do is nod slowly and stare at the door long after you’ve closed it.

You meant it: you’re not mad. Well, not at Steve. You’re mad at yourself, really, for letting yourself fall for him again, for making yourself remember exactly how it feels to kiss him.

You’re not mad at Steve and yet, you haven’t been alone with him since that day. It’s for your own good, you hope. You don’t want to let yourself be with him again because you know what it feels like to lose him. It hurts and it sucks and you’d rather love him quietly than feel that ever again.

It’s game night at the Wheeler’s now, and so far, you’ve lost pretty much every game. You find it doesn’t bother you all that much when you’re around such good people.

As Nancy shuffles Uno cards, you stand, “skip me this round. I gotta pee.”

“Thank you for announcing that,” Dustin says.

“You’re welcome, Dusty,” you ruffle his hair on your way to the bathroom.

Once you’re washing your hands, you inspect yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s frizzier than you’d like and your mascara’s smudged under your eyes. You use your pinky, wet with tap water, to wipe it away.

You unlock and open the door and find Steve leaning against the wall in the hallway. Not expecting anyone to be there, you jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Why’re you standing there?”

“Waiting for the bathroom.”

You don’t point out that there are more than one bathrooms in the Wheeler’s house. Instead, you move out of the doorway and let him go in. Only, he doesn’t move.

“Okay, I lied,” he confesses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh. Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” he looks you over, like he can’t help it. “Will you come home with me? So we can talk about…”

As much as you wish you could just forget about that kiss, you can’t. It hasn’t left your mind for more than five minutes at a time. Often, you find yourself pressing your fingers to your mouth, searching for the ghost of his. Besides, how can you say no to Steve saying the words ‘will you come home with me’?

“Okay,” you say quietly, then, more sure, “okay, sure.”

You walked there, and though you’d usually much prefer the comfort of the BMW, you can’t help but worry about what he wants to say the rest of the night.

Once you’ve said your goodbyes and walk towards Steve’s car, you can almost feel Robin’s knowing smile as she watches you climb into the passenger seat.

The drive feels like a dream in the sense that you blinked and it ended. You suppose time can fly when you’re lost in thought, in what-ifs.

You only realize you’ve made it to Steve’s house when you hear the click of the gearshift and the quiet of the engine shutting off that follows. You follow him inside, watching the way he fiddles with his keys, his hand flicking on the lights inside.

He leads you to his bedroom. He knows he could’ve stopped in the kitchen or the living room, but he’s most comfortable in the only room that feels completely his in the house. He needs to be comfortable for this.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he leans on the dresser across from you.

There’s an anticipation almost humming in the air. Who will speak first, what will they say.

“So-”

“Listen-”

You speak at the same time.

“You first,” Steve offers.

“I’m sorry for running out like that. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. Had to think.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”

For so much more than just that kiss. Then again, he’s not really sorry for kissing you, he’s only sorry for possibly hurting you with it.

“We were doing so good.” He furrows his brows at you in question. “At just being friends.”

“I don’t think I could ever look at you as just a friend, Ace. Not after knowing what it’s like to have you.”

You want to tell him you feel the same, you want to tell him so bad. The words are stuck in your throat. You’re so afraid, so nervous, for what could happen if you try this again.

“Do you regret kissing me?” You ask instead.

“I know I should, but I can’t regret anything with you.”

“I don’t regret it, either.”

The room seems to shrink, the air thicken. Steve’s hands clench on the edge of the dresser, holding himself back, almost.

You don’t think you want him to hold back. You want to slap yourself for it, but you’ve missed the way his kiss melted you every day since you felt it. Maybe, if you can’t tell him, you can show him how you feel.

“Kiss me again,” you say.

“What?”

He must have heard you wrong. Only, when you repeat yourself, he knows he didn’t.

“You’re sure?” He checks.

All you can do is nod, almost eagerly. He pushes off from the dresser and stands in front of you. Your knees brush against the fabric of his jeans as he moves closer. His hands gently cup your face, tilt it up so you’re looking at him.

His eyes flick between yours, and when you nudge your cheek into his hand, like an encouragement, he bends down to place his lips over yours.

It starts gently, like the last one. Steve’s lips glide over yours slowly, making sure you don’t want to pull away. It feels like high school and sneaking through windows, like popcorn kisses at the movies and the feeling of Skull Rock behind your back. It feels like the past and yet, there’s an emotion there that wasn’t before.

Longing, knowing what it feels like to lose this.

It’s gentle until your hands snake their way under Steve’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sunshine pouring out of him. That’s when his hold on your face becomes a bit more firm, one of his thumbs pushing on your chin to get you to open it for him.

That’s when the dam seems to break.

Steve kisses you deeper and deeper, pushing himself closer and closer until you’re being laid down on the bed. He pulls away from you, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, to give you space to push yourself up to his pillows.

He tugs his shirt off before climbing over you, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of your head, his brown eyes darkened.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yes,” you nod, “I missed you.”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him back to you, his mouth finding yours easily. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this with Steve, but the rhythm of it all comes easily. It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve spent so long learning what they like.

He kisses you enough to feel dazed, your head a jumble of SteveSteveSteve and your hips canting towards his unconsciously. He’d been holding his weight off of you before that, but feeling you brush against him had him pushing his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed.

You broke the kiss only to catch your breath, and Steve took the time to push wet kisses down your jawline, to your neck, breathing heavy in between them.

Selfishly, possessively, he tugs the neckline of your shirt down and sucks a hickey into your collarbone, licking over it when he’s done. Your hands have buried themselves in his hair at some point, and you feel his groan against your skin when you tug.

He moves down still, pushing your shirt up to bunch underneath your bra and peck his way across your stomach.

“Steve,” you almost whine.

He peeks up at you, “yeah, baby?”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in years. The sound of the pet name in his voice is enough to have the dampness in your panties grow.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You used to like that,” he pouts.

“It’s been too long. Please.”

He’s trying to act composed on the outside when really, the word ‘please’ leaving your mouth is enough to have him push his crotch into the mattress.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. His hand pauses on the waistband of your pants, “can I?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons them and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his knees to pull them down and off your legs, your socks and underwear follow.

Steve can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe you’re there, on his bed, looking so pretty for him. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

You grow shy under his stare, his eyes focused where you’re embarrassingly wet all because of him. You try to shut your legs, but he stops you with a hand on your knee, “you’re beautiful, Ace. You don’t need to hide. It’s just me.”

You’re not sure how to tell him the reason you care so much is because it’s him of all people. Steve who you’ve known for so long, Steve who you used to have, like this. Steve, who you love.

He lays down between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs, thumbs running back and forth soothingly across your skin. He kisses up your thighs and pauses when his breath hits your cunt. He glances up at you for permission.

You nod, a hand finding one of his on your leg and weaving your fingers together.

You try to keep your head up to be able to see him, but as soon as he runs his tongue up your slit it falls back into the pillow, a gasp escaping you. You squeeze his hand in yours.

Steve works you quickly, so much so that it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten a single thing about you.

His tongue runs over you again and again, your slick surely all over his mouth. When it hits the bead of your clit, your free hand is in his hair again. He grunts into you at the pull, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of it all.

When your hand squeezes his even tighter, Steve moves his free hand to your entrance, his mouth hit around your clit. He works a finger in, then a second. He curves them and searches until he finds the spot that makes you whimper out a noise he wants to hear again.

“Steve,” his name a breathy moan.

“Go on, baby. I can feel it. You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“I've got you.”

He works his fingers quicker, puts his mouth back on you and flicks his tongue and just like that you’re being pushed over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands holding him even tighter.

He watches as you come down, his cheek against your thigh, “so pretty.”

You manage a lazy smile, taking your hand out of his hair, “sorry. Did that hurt?”

“I liked it. You know that.”

He moves back up until his face is above yours, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him.

Your hands trail down his back, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up. They land on the waistband of his jeans, tracing it around to his stomach, letting your fingers go further, feeling the skin just above his underwear.

You pull back from his mouth to glance down to where your fingers run back and forth over his skin, pausing to undo the button of his jeans.

“Who’s teasing now?” He says, voice low in your ear.

A shrug is your reply, followed by his zipper being pulled down slowly. His head bends to watch your hands work his pants and boxers down enough to free him, his cock hard and pink at the tip, pretty as ever.

You wrap a hand around him, “better?”

“Much.”

You work him slowly, like you’re trying to remember the feeling of him, your hand pausing at the tip to let your thumb run over it.

Steve tried to remember the way your hand felt against him when he was desperate and alone. Now, having you again, he knows his imagination could never do you justice. You’re soft in a way he never could be.

When you squeeze him a bit tighter, moving a bit quicker, he drops his head onto your shoulder, groaning.

“Ace.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he picks his head up, sets his eyes on yours, “I don’t wanna come like this.”

“Feels nice in my hand, though.”

“I can make it feel a whole lot better, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you, Ace.”

“I want you, too.”

He pecks your lips quickly before standing to take his pants off fully. You take your shirt and bra off at the same time. It makes you nervous to be naked in front of him again, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help. It’s a searing gaze, almost burning your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself.

He climbs over you once more when you make hands at him. His skin is warm, mirroring the way you feel all over. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, trails his hand down your neck, to your chest. He cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly then letting a thumb run over your nipple.

You bite back a whimper.

His mouth gives the tit that isn’t in his hand attention, pecking and sucking and licking.

“Steve,” you push your hips up.

“Sorry, baby. Missed these girls, too.”

You roll your eyes.

He kisses your cheek and takes the hand off your chest to hold himself, running his head up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. When he pauses at your entrance, he looks at you.

“You’re still okay? Still want this?”

You nod, hands running in circles on the back of his shoulders, “yes. I’m ready.”

He’s big, and the stretch of him pushing into you is sharper now that you’re not used to it. He soothes you with sweet words and soft kisses to your neck.

Halfway, he checks in, “good?”

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him in the rest of the way, whining when his pelvis is against yours.

“Fuck,” he says into the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “You’re heaven, Ace.”

“Move, Steve,” your hands tighten on his shoulders. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling back slowly only to push in again. You can feel everything, you think. Maybe because it’s been so long or because sex with someone you love is better than any other sex. Maybe it’s just Steve.

He’s all over you. His hair tickling your chin, his mouth open against your neck, breaths hot against your skin. He’s in your mind and in your heart and in you, deeper than anyone else. You feel so full. Of him, of emotion, of memories of nights you used to have just like this one.

Full of him in every way.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says. “There’s nobody like you. No one, Ace.”

“I-” love you, you almost say. “Steve.”

The pitch of your voice tells him to go faster, and he lifts his head to see your face. Mouth agape, soft moans and breaths spilling out, eyebrows scrunched, eyes falling shut when he finds your spot.

“Open your eyes,” he says, softly. “Come on, baby.”

You do, blinking them open and looking up at him. His hair is a mess around his head, sweaty strands falling over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed pink and you’re sure they’d be warm to the touch.

He drops his forehead against yours, your sounds and breaths mingling between your mouths, your noses nudging against each other with every push of his hips.

Your arms go around his neck, one hand tangling itself in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re getting closer and closer and by the way his movements grow just a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he is, too.

“Ace. Baby, you’re there, yeah? I can feel you squeezing me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

“So close, Steve.”

He’s holding himself up on one elbow, trailing his free hand down to rub circles over your clit. “Come on.”

You finish with a cry of his name, your eyes squeezing shut. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that blind you. The pleasure and the affection, the heat and the love you really don’t think you could imagine. So much so that tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

He’s not far behind, “shit. Where do you want me?”

In your haze, you can barely manage a reply, “tummy.”

He pulls out and jerks himself until you can feel him coming on your skin. He moans and it’s a beautiful sound. You run your hands over his skin through it all, grounding him and yourself.

Your foreheads are still together, slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he pecks you once, twice, three times. “You okay?”

“Really good.”

“Will you stay?”

You hadn’t even thought of leaving. You wouldn’t dream of it. Not now, at least, in your post-orgasm daze where fears and worries don’t reach you.

“Mhm,” you hum your agreement.

Steve’s grin splits his cheeks, wide and toothy and infectious enough to make you smile, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he rolls away from you, standing beside the bed. Before walking away, he bends to peck you again. He heads to the bathroom after that.

You note the freckles that dot his back and shoulders as he goes. A constellation you never forgot; burned in your memory. One you used to play connect the dots with in the mornings.

He comes back with a wet cloth, wiping his come from your stomach and then cleaning you up as gently as possible, giving a soft apology when you whimper in sensitivity.

He tosses the cloth aside when he’s done and searches his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. He tugs them on then finds a baggy sleep shirt for you. You watch him the whole time, the way he moves and the way the streetlights seeping in through the window light his skin.

Coming back to you, he tells you to sit up and puts the shirt over your head. He didn’t even have to ask, he knows what you like to sleep in. When you look at the shirt he picked, you find it’s one that used to be your favorite.

You bring the fabric to your nose and hide your grin in it.

Steve pulls the blankets over you, then himself when he lays down beside you. He doesn’t even hesitate before tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

“I really missed you, Ace.”

“Missed you, Steve,” you reply sleepily.

He kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep easily, Steve’s fingers running back and forth over your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

Steve wakes up before you do.

You’ve both moved in your sleep. Now, you lay on your stomach, face turned towards him and cheek squished into the pillow. He lays on his side, propped up by his elbow, looking at you.

He looks at you, asleep and pretty, and wonders how he could ever give you up.

His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear, away from your face, brushes his knuckles across your cheeks as lightly as possible. He moves to your arm and traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin.

He draws the words over and over, only pulling his hand away when you rouse.

You breathe in deep before opening your eyes, moving your head on the pillow to look over at Steve properly. His eyes are already set on you, puffy with sleep and full of something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

“Hi,” his voice is different in the morning, lower.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you stretch your legs and turn onto your side. “You?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

You can tell that there’s something he wants to say, that he’s thinking of the words. It makes you nervous, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he regrets it. Almost worse, maybe he doesn’t.

“Can I say something?”

“Steve-”

“No, let me say it. If you hate it, we can forget about it, okay?”

His eyes are soft, pleading. You can tell that whatever it is, it really matters to him and there’s no way you can ignore that.

“Okay.”

“I still love you.”

His words hang in the air, your chests both rise and fall a bit quicker, hearts beating faster in tandem.

You’ve been dreaming of him saying it to you, and yet, hearing it out loud, you can’t help but be terrified. You love him, you know you do, and it scares you. It’ll hurt worse the second time around if you lose him.

“I still love you,” he continues in your silence. “I miss you so much, Ace. I want to do it again. I want to be with you and do it right.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’ve thought of you every day since you left,” his hand finds yours atop the sheets, fingers linking. “I didn’t want to break up with you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Squeezes your hand, too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. You were going off to school and I’d be here and I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to go and to do it fully.”

Your heart pinches in your chest. Steve really believed he’d been doing you a favor by letting you go.

“It hurt for a long time, Steve. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you again, Ace,” he swipes away the tear that falls from your cheek. “Just answer one thing for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

It’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I would’ve stayed if you asked me to.”

“That’s why I did it,” his thumb runs over your cheek gently. “I couldn't let you give it all up for me. But you’re back now, and I love you and you love me. Let me try again.”

You want to say yes. So badly, you want to be with him. So why can't you just say it? It’s like glue’s been dropped down your throat, sticking all the right words in it so that nothing useful comes out. You try anyway.

“I’m just scared.”

You shut your eyes.

“Will you look at me?” You do, and right then it’s hard to feel scared anymore. He’s looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything. “You’re my forever. I know you are. Let me show you.”

You focus on his hand in yours, his touch on your face. You focus on the fact that this is Steve. Steve who you love, who you know you want to be with past all the fear and worry.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay? Like, you’ll be my girl again?”

“Yes, yeah.”

His grin spreads wide enough to have his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rushes forward to kiss you, three quick pecks broken by your smiles.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask him, suddenly brave, like his kiss fixed everything.

“Anything.”

“I wished for you. On that eyelash. The day we kissed.”

He kisses you again for that.

༄

thank u for reading! if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought it would mean a bunch <3

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stevie-petey · 5 months

Text

episode five: the flea and the acrobat

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?” Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?” “Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend. Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing

warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 14.4k (whew)

before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)

With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers.

“Y/N?”

You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”

“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of.

“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire.

Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”

Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!

Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.

You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved.

They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck.

“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El.

You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today?

“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?”

“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says.

You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble.

El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”

“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.

Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.”

You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place).

“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”

The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune.

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,”

“Lucas!”

“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.”

“Backup?” You ask.

Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”

You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.”

The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them.

“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?”

The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.”

As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed.

“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics.

Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.”

“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once.

“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”

“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”

“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”

“Not now, Mike.”

It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself.

You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs.

“Lovely.”

“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times.

“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?”

Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.”

Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”

“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?”

“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.”

“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”

Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts.

Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”

Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”

The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously.

“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”

And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else.

“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment.

You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together.

You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it.

“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.”

“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again.

“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts.

Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds.

“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.

You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”

Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!”

“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to.

Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.

Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while.

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him.

“What?”

While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over.

“God, took you long enough.”

“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”

Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?”

You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.”

Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”

“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”

Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?”

“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this.

“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.

“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”

You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his.

“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?”

“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!”

You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?”

Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”

Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one.

“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you.

“Do I wanna know?”

You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.”

“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?”

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him.

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms.

Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”

Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”

Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead.

“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next.

“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes.

His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.”

Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?”

“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”

“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it.

“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.

You don’t bother to ask what that means.

“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him.

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”

The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”

El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile.

Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”

Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately.

Speaking of which:

“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?”

You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.

Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him.

When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open.

“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”

“Noted.”

–

The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning.

Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.”

He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?

There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight.

The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight.

You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list.

1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)

2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo).

3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing).

Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on.

When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second.

“What-”

“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything.

Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.”

Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.”

Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue.

It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other.

Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”

“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.”

“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.

“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.”

As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”

You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart.

“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve.

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”

Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.”

You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.”

“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”

Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother.

After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan.

Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way.

The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize.

Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”

You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”

“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.”

“Touche, bee.”

He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you.

You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”

Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.”

Nance?

Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later.

“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”

“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.”

No I can’t.

“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”

A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”

Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would.

“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”

Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.”

You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.”

“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes.

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.”

More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion.

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering.

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.”

“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…”

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish.

“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”

So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.

“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.”

Like how I love you?

“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue.

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

–

You’re up before the sun this morning.

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night.

Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for.

It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.”

You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures.

“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff.

The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms.

“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support.

“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right.

Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,”

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you.

Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.”

You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door.

He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help.

“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan.

When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.

You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint.

You’d do anything for him.

–

The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before.

You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.

Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle.

The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love.

“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions.

You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up.

After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”

Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile.

Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes.

Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”

“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.

“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did.

Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her.

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true.

You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that.

When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”

Huh.

You hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is.

As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper.

“What’s that?” You ask.

He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.”

“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?”

Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”

“Sorry,”

Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”

“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.”

Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry.

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others.

“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”

Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.

“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.”

“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it.

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them.

Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”

“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”

You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck.

“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”

–

Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.

You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.

“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”

“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.”

He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation.

You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.”

Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.”

“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance.

You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.

“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement.

Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”

You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”

“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim.

“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence.

“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that.

She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.”

You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you.

You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.”

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.

“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!”

–

When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently.

This worries you.

You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.

By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids.

“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys.

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted.

Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”

“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.”

Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”

“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer.

“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!”

You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in.

Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”

Silence falls upon the table.

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

��Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.”

You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”

As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in.

“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?”

You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”

“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”

“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”

“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him.

“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.

“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks.

You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.”

Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”

You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”

The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.

You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”

“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

–

As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!”

You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat.

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello.

Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”

“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?”

You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it.

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.”

The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection.

And you?

You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents.

It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin cowboy.”

The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going.

“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.”

Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.”

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”

You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”

He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you.

When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him.

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along.

There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone.

Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home.

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”

“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question.

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.”

“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.”

Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze.

“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.”

“Oh, did I?”

“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.”

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.”

“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say our’s is?”

His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.

Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even.

The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy.

“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”

He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”

Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?

“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.

“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head.

It’s too much. It’s all too much.

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in.

Maybe you’re imagining it.

Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters.

Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you.

You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.

“Hey! Guys!”

Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart.

You want to scream.

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler.

Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

The words hurt more than they should, really.

“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at.

“Did I miss something or…?”

If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you.

But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place.

Will, Barb, the monster.

“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”

She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”

You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”

Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”

Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

“Y/N, did you try shooting?”

“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”

While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off.

“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie.

Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her.

Lovely.

Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.”

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”

Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”

Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”

And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh.

“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can.

Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him.

Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl.

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks.

Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her.

You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else.

You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking.

Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter.

Clearly there’s no room for you here.

Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside.

You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.”

He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.”

“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself.

“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it.

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick.

“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.”

Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift.

The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,”

And there it is again.

Nance.

The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.”

“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.”

You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”

You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.

As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you.

–

The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough.

You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy.

As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.

You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late.

Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier.

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods.

Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.

“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again.

Christ, everytime you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life.

You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”

“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears.

“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?”

“You won’t yell at me?”

You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”

Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours.

“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”

“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”

You sense that there’s more. “And then?”

“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”

“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.”

“She screamed?”

“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”

“She what-”

“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”

“He was knocked unconscious?”

“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…”

You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.

Maybe you don’t want superpowers.

“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks.

You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.”

“And El?”

“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”

“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”

“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”

“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes.

You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”

Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.”

Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug.

“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.

–

After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.

When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry.

Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose.

You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink.

You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”

You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car.

Great. He brought the idiots.

Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”

“I almost had it,” you glare at him.

“Sure ya did.”

Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”

His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction.

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

“Him and Nancy have this… thing for english. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story.

“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing.

“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.”

Shit.

Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation.

“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting.

“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes.

“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house.

You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”

Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”

Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.

You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”

He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”

“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”

Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”

“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.

Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

A wave of nausea hits you.

“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket.

“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that-”

“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”

More nausea hits you. “No,”

They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think.

“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”

And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves.

All you feel is nausea.

You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way.

You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers.

He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself.

But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?

No.

You don’t want to think about it that way.

Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan.

Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him.

Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.

But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will.

He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.

Will has to come first.

You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.

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