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thewordswewrite · 2 years

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Hawkins Prison Blues

Pairing | Steve Harrington x HoppersDaughter!Reader

Summary | A simple delivery turns into a night of unresolved feelings as you find the one and only Steve Harrington locked in Hawkins Police Station's one and only jail cell

Warnings | explicit language, angst, extensive talk about parental relationships

W/C | 6.3k

A/N | Well I am in no way anti-Hopper, this fic seems to be (oops). This takes place the night of the Snow Ball after Steve drops off Dustin. The reader is Hopper's second daughter and for inclusivity sake, I did not specify how she came to be Hopper's daughter and there are many ways to have kids so please freely imagine yourself here! - saph

“That’ll come out to five ninety-eight, would you like to pay cash or card?”

“Cash.”

The lights on the faded menu flicker as you pull around to the next window, tapping your hand on the car door to the beat of the music. Warm air rattles out of the heater, chugging alongside the music. Your watch reads eight o’clock and besides the one van in front of you that reeks of weed, you haven’t seen another car since you left the house. No,, parents and kids alike, had long since settled down in the school lot for the infamous Snow Ball. The middle schoolers were experiencing their first major dance while kiss-asses from Hawkins High were vying for chaperone spots, trying to scrounge up a little extra-credit for the end of the semester. Parents, including your father, were busy with send-offs, polaroids and potlucks as they watched another big milestone pass them by.

Jane had looked beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, especially as you–against your father’s wishes–helped her add a bit of your makeup to her look. Yes, she was beautiful, far more than you had been at your first Snow Ball. You hadn’t even worn a dress. You hadn’t even owned a dress. But nothing but the best for daddy’s little girl.

“Whopper with a small fry and a coke?”

“Yep, thanks.”

You pull the greasy bag into the car and dump it onto the passenger seat. The smell fills the car instantly and you roll down the windows letting the crisp winter air take you somewhere else. The route to the station had been second nature about a month after you earned your license; you didn’t need to think to get where you were going. A dangerous habit sure, but tension coiled around your muscles, and you didn’t want to think at all let alone about anything to do with your dad.

Unfortunately, it was him who had called from the station just as you had finished your shift at Tiff’s, not bothering to detail the ‘emergency’ that had him leaving home so suddenly. Despite the shouting in the background of the call, clearly said ‘emergency’ hadn’t been as pressing as your dad had made it out to be, considering you’re busy delivering Burger King to the chief of police rather than relaxing in bed with a book.

When you pull up, Calvin and Phil are already gone, the absence of their squad cars further confirming the suspicion that there really is no good reason for your dad, or you, to be out here at this hour. You’d be lying if you said you were surprised. You know what ‘emergencies’ are code for: shit you don’t get to know about.

You shove the door open with a grunt, the hinges sticking with the cold. “Dad?”

“Yeah, in here.”

Dropping the bag down on his desk, you flop down into the chair usually reserved for petty criminals and pissed off neighbors and toy with the nameplate sat in front of you. Jim Hopper.

“Mm, thanks for this,” He says between bites.

“Yeah, no problem,” You sigh, stealing a fry from his makeshift plate, hope for a simple conversation simmering in your chest. “Is that all or…”

“Yeah, just…ah, shit.” He brings his watch closer to his face and bursts up from his chair. Haphazardly, he scrapes the rest of his meal into the trash beside his desk. “I gotta pick up eh, Jane from the dance.” He mutters a few more expletives under his breath before tossing a key ring into your hands. “Could you lock up for me?”

“Th-the station?”

“Yeah, you’ve got it.”

“I don’t think I should-”

“Thanks!” Your dad calls as he pushes out the door. You slump down, rubbing your forehead. The familiarity of the situation wasn’t lost on you. It wasn’t the first time your father had run off, citing Jane as the explanation. Jane the ‘foreign exchange student’ turned ‘sister.’ You’d all about given up trying to understand how your life had come to change in the course of a year.

“Hop? Hopper? You can’t just leave me here! Hello?”

The muffled shouts come from the back of the station. Your instincts tell you to search the desks for something to defend yourself, that is until you realize exactly where the shouts are coming from: the cells.

“Hopper!”

“Steve?”

Standing in front of you is Steve “The Hair” Harrington, King of Hawkins High, banging on the bars of the one jail cell available to the drunks of Hawkins, Indiana. You burst out laughing, taking in the disheveled look of him, his hair unkempt, and maroon sweater stained.

“C.K.! Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Chief’s Kid. You hated that name and you thought you’d reminded him of that enough times to get through that thick layer of hairspray clouding his brain. You stop laughing just as suddenly as you started and turn to leave, flipping him off as you make your way to the door. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m just-just, so relieved you're here. Please, please, don’t go!”

“Give me one real reason I should stay,” You huff, leaning against the door frame.

“Because we’re friends and-” You turn away again, scoffing. “Okay, okay, because I’m starving and I-I’m freezing in here and you are a very, very, generous person.” His eyes are wide and bloodshot, staring at you in utter desperation.

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“Well, you could let me out?” He makes an attempt on turning on that smile, the one that even made goody-two-shoes Nancy Wheeler, amongst others, fall for him. But you’ve seen it before. It had almost worked then but definitely wasn’t going to work now.

“I’m not doing that.”

The smile drops, falling flat. “Why not?”

“Let’s see,” You begin, tapping a finger on your chin, “My father put you in here, for what I’m sure is a very good reason and frankly, I just don’t like you.” You almost tacked on an ‘anymore’ but decided he didn’t deserve to know he was ever in your good graces.

“I promise you, it’s not a good reason!” Steve leans his head between the bars of the cell, grimacing.

“You-you promise?” You scoff. Placing your hands on your knees, you bend over, making an exaggerated show of laughing. “That’s a good one.” He shakes his head and brushes his hair out of his face with an open palm.

“C.K.-”

“You’re a liar, Steve Harrington.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” His voice is strained and he moves away from the bars, instead flopping down on the wooden bench that serves as the cell’s only furniture. You think about leaving him here, maybe even turning off the lights as you go, letting him serve whatever sentence he earned himself in the dark. You aren’t exactly on your father’s side as far as his judgment goes but you figure your feelings for Steve align strongly with that of Jim Hopper.

“What are you here for anyway? Did ‘slaying demon dogs’ suddenly become a crime?”

“First of all, it’s demodogs and second-,” Steve stands again as you move closer to your cell, “I…” He falters, the cocky look leaving his face. “I plead the fourth.”

“It’s the fifth.”

“The fifth of what?” He shakes his head incredulously.

“It’s ‘I plead the-,’ you know what, you’re an idiot.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

You sit at the counter, resting your head in your hand as the fluorescent lights flicker above you. Tiff’s Diner is usually a hotspot for kids on a night like this but every other person your age is Tina’s Halloween party while you spend your night with the latest Danielle Steel and a dozen empty booths. It’s not like you weren’t invited. All the other kids knew you were Chief Hopper’s daughter and they knew better than to leave you out. Tiff had even offered to let you take the night off, knowing there wouldn’t be any business anyway. But your dad was gone and you didn’t like being alone with Jane anyway plus it wasn’t as if anyone at the party was missing you either, why not make a few extra bucks on an easy night.

The jingle of the door’s bell made you jump, having been lost in your novel and frankly, not expecting anyone for the rest of the night. The boy in front of you removes his sunglasses and pushes them up into his hair. You didn’t recognize his face per se but you’d know that hair anywhere. You sit up straighter and shove your book out of the way. With his eyes unhidden, you can see the sadness in them now and even more so accompanied by the frown on his face.

“Welcome to Tiff’s,” You sigh. “Take Out or Dine-In?”

“Haven’t really decided that yet,” Steve says, squinting up at the menu above you. The longer you look at him the worse he looks, especially bathed in fluorescent light.

“Well, you better hurry,” You warn, smirking, “I might run out of tables.” He laughs, leaning on the counter.

“I guess I’ll have to Dine-In, then,” Steve decides, winking, “while I still can.” He rattles off his order and you head into the kitchen to wake up Sal, the one cook still left on duty. He wakes with a start and it takes him a bit to realize you actually have an order for him. Once Sal is actually up and cooking Steve’s order, you grab a Coke and head out to your one and only customer. “Hostess and waitress, huh?”

“What can I say, I’m talented.” You slide his drink over to him but you remain standing at the booth, unsure if you’re welcome to sit. When you turn to go, Steve suddenly huffs out a breath and continues the conversation.

“I know you’ve got a lot of demanding customers but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping me company?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend for that?” You ask, taking a seat across from him. Normally when you’ve seen Steve, at Tiff’s or in the halls, he’s had Hawkins’ golden girl, Nancy Wheeler on his arm.

“I'm kind of on the fence about that right now,” He sighs, taking a sip of his drink. An ‘I’m sorry’ finds itself at the tip of your tongue but that doesn’t seem right. You didn’t want to help him mourn a relationship he might still have.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs, digging his palms into his already reddened eyes.

“So, Risky Business?”

“Huh?”

“Your costume.” You gesture to his outfit.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve smiled. “I didn’t think anyone would know. Especially without my escort.”

“The glasses give it away,” You laugh.

“And what are you dressed as, C.K.?”

“Don’t,” You snap. “Don't’ call me that,” You warn, softer.

“Got it.” He raised his arms in surrender. You tap your foot, cursing yourself for ruining what you had going. “Dana from Ghostbusters?” You raise an eyebrow at him until you remember what you were talking about.

“I’m not wearing-”

“Oh, I know! Ariel from Footloose.”

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

You twirl the key ring around your finger. “I’m sure you’ll hear it again.”

“Can I at least get something from the vending machine?” Steve pleaded. “Then you can leave.”

“I don’t need your permission to-” He put on a pout and his classic puppy-dog eyes, clasping his hands together to beg. “You got your wallet?” A hand slips through the bars, dangling a five dollar bill in your direction. You grab it from him gingerly and trudge down the hall to the vending machines. After inserting the bill, you start pressing numbers, trying to recall what he used to get at the movies. You get your five dollars worth and head back to his cell.

“See, so generous,” Steve croons as you pass the snacks through the open-spaces. “I didn’t think you were going to come back,” He huffs. Peeling off the wrapper of a candy bar, he slips you half like he always does–did–not even looking up to see if you’ll take it. And you do, popping it in your mouth as you sit cross-legged in front of the cell. “So, where’s the bigger Hop?”

“Taking care of his new favorite daughter,” You mutter, taking the handful of chips Steve offers you. “I’m surprised you didn’t already know that.” The smile on his face falls.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Well, you just seem to know everything about my life before I do.”

“You know that I-” You put up a hand to stop him.

“Just stop.”

The two of you sit in silence as Steve eats his vending machine dinner. He offers you more but you don’t accept it, remembering all that had happened in such a short time, not that long ago and the fact that Steve had somehow been in the center of it all.

“I, uh, drove Dustin to the Snow Ball, you know, before I got arrested,” Steve explains between Doritos. He laughs to himself, “I have to say he looked pretty good. He might be ‘the Hair’ of Hawkins Middle.” You can’t help but join him in tentative laughter, thinking of Dustin’s unruly curls.

You walk down the street, matching Steve’s stride as he hands you half of his candy bar.

“You could’ve told me you’d already seen it,” He huffs, running a hand through his hair. You pat him on the back as he pouts.

“Well, you hadn’t,” You offer, “and it was even better the second time.” You nearly bump into him as he stops abruptly, seemingly not even noticing that he stopped walking. Following his gaze, your eyes land on the Wheeler house. You pat him on the back again. The other night at Tiff’s diner he had spilled it all to you, all of Nancy Wheeler’s ‘bullshit.’ You’d thought maybe it was just because you were a stranger and who did you have to tell his secrets to anyway? But then he came back the next day and then he’d asked you to the movies and well, you still hadn’t quite figured out whatever had led to him attaching himself to you so fast.

“Steve!”

Coming down the driveway is a younger boy, his brown curly hair sticking out from under his hat and headphones combo. He trudges right up to the pair of you, out of breath.

“Hey,” The boy acknowledges you briefly before turning back to Steve, “I hope you’re not on a date. We have bigger problems than your love life.” You sputter out a laugh as the boy continues to walk down the sidewalk, now with Steve in toe. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve looks back at you, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and you shrug, waving as he runs after the boy.

“So, you went from being a middle-schooler’s chauffeur to being an inmate in a matter of hours?”

“Listen, I was drunk, okay?” Steve lays across the floor of the cell, tossing his crumpled up chip bag like a baseball. “Still kinda am.” He flips so that he’s laying on his side, propped up by his elbow, and poses for you like a playboy model. You lay on the floor beside him, staring up at the ceiling.

“So, what? My dad arrested you for underage drinking? In Hawkins?” In small town Indiana, underage drinking is commonplace and you know your dad; he’s not going to do anything that takes more effort than it’s worth. “The law” hasn’t been your dad’s top priority, not for years, and neither have you.

“Well, it’s not just that,” He sighs, covering his face with his hands. “Let’s just say you might want to look into window repair services.” You hadn’t noticed before but as Steve hides his face in embarrassment you can see the gauze wrapped haphazardly around his palm. Reaching through the bars, you snatch his hand to see the crimson bloom of blood soaked up by the bandage

“You broke my window in your what, your drunken escapades? You trying to lose a hand?” Steve puffs out a laugh which sends you reeling back. “Jesus, what’ve you been drinking? Your breath smells like death!” When his other hand moves from his face, you see what you hadn’t cared to notice before. Not only were his eyes bloodshot but they were enveloped in dark circles. His jaw was beginning to be overshadowed by stubble in a way you’d never seen. His shirt, his shoes, his pants were all dirtied. “Jesus.”

“Sorry, let me just go freshen up…oh, wait.” You shake your head, ignoring him as you unwrap the gauze from his hand, his face turned up in a wince. You gingerly cup his shaking hand with your own, rubbing circles into his knuckles to calm him as you finish unwrapping the gauze.

“This needs to be cleaned,” You scold, already getting up to find the nearest first aid.

“Hey, you take that up with the big Hop!”

“Would you stop saying that?” You lay out the kit in front of the cell. “Sit up and come closer,” You demand.

“You know you could just let me out, right?” Steve raises an eyebrow at you, gesturing towards the key ring that now hangs from your belt loop.

“I have you right where I want you. Now, come’ere.” He sits cross-legged right on the edge of the bars, snaking his arm through as he had before. You pour antiseptic onto a cotton pad and press it gently to his palm.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, grabbing your elbow with his other hand.

“Just breathe,” You hum, “It’s only for a second.” He leans his head against the bar, eyes closed. “So, what exactly were you trying to do when you broke my window?”

“Well, I was just trying to get your attention, you know, like always.”

You pull your headphones off, still hearing that consistent tapping that you convinced yourself was just part of the song. Pausing your tape, you listen more intently, trying to figure out exactly where the noise was coming from. It took another minute before you heard it again. You ran over to the window just in time to see a handful of pebbles hitting the glass.

“Steve?” Sticking your head through the open window, you can see him clearly now, bent down to grab his next handful of pebbles.

“Finally!” He throws his hand in the air dramatically, spinning in a quick circle. “I tried to just come right in but you’ve got your window locked. That’s smart. You never know what kinda creeps are out there.” Steve grunts as you pull him through the window, at first you think in effort, until you see his face.

“Jesus Christ!” His face was bruised and swollen with bandages randomly placed on whatever cuts they would fit on. The area near his nose was especially affected and you feared it might be broken. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“It’s good to see you too.”

“What the hell happened to your face?” He sat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your walkman. You riffled through your drawers, trying to find some first aid.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“What the new kid? What problem does he have with you?” Your search was futile. You would have to risk going out into the bathroom and maybe the kitchen for some ice. “Forget it. Just stay here and keep quiet.”

You tiptoe out of your room, avoiding the parts of the wood floor you knew were the creakiest. Poking through the freezer, you find a long since forgotten bag of peas and shove them under your arm. You also open one of the drawers and pull out a pair of scissors for the inevitable bandaging you’d be stuck with. Finally, you sneak into the bathroom and grab some gauze, cotton pads, antiseptic and q-tips.

“What do you need all that for?” Your dad calls from the couch causing you to freeze. Turning to look at him, you feel a stab of envy. Cradled in his arms is a sleeping Jane. Jane, who you’ve long since stopped asking questions about. Jane who’s now into the punk scene and also covered in blood? Nosebleeds. Right.

“I’ve uh, I’ve got my period,” You mutter, “It’s real rough. Gross shit, really. I’ve got it covered.” You shove your bedroom door closed, not giving him a chance to say more. Somehow, your father was most attentive when you wanted, no, needed him not to be.`

When you step into your room, Steve is lying on the bed, half asleep by the looks of it. If your father wasn’t home, and you weren’t so afraid he might be passing out, you would just let him stay and sleep it off. But you scoop a hand under his back and sit him back up, listening to his groans all the while. You start to dab away at the wounds as he hisses and whines with every touch.

“You’ve got to stay facing me,’ You sigh. You wouldn’t be able to get any work done if he didn’t stop squirming.

“Shit,” Steve choked as you dabbed at the wound above his eyebrow.

“Here.” You maneuver yourself until you're straddling him, leaving him with nowhere to turn away from. He hesitates for a minute, looking up at you with wide eyes until his hands find a place propped under your thighs, supporting you from atop his lap. This time when you tend to his wounds he just tightens his hold, his fingers digging into your thighs.

“Just breathe,” You tell him, “Just breathe.”

“And a few pebbles managed to shatter my window?”

“Well, I was reaching for the pebbles,” Steve huffs, “but I actually just kinda, ya know…grabbed a rock.” He toys with his fresh bandage and you slap his hand away.

“God, you’re shit-faced.”

Both of you find your positions laying on the ground again, this time in silence. You consider leaving again, letting him finish out his punishment in solitude; after all, it’s what he deserves. Even if you did free him, then your dad would be on your ass and you’d much rather be the ass for leaving Steve in a cell. After a while of going over his story in your mind, you sit up.

“Wait, why were you drinking anyway?” Steve rolls over to his side. He doesn’t respond right away and the lack of a smartass answer unnerves you.

“I needed some courage,” He admits. “A lot more than I thought I did apparently.” The way he looks at you, the sincerity and warmth in his brown eyes, puts a pit in your stomach. He wasn’t allowed to look at you that way, not anymore.

“For what?”

You know and he knows you know. You may not have it in all the exact words but you know. The late nights together at Tiff’s as he sat with you through closing, the days spent keeping him company when his parents were God knows where, the movies you’d see three, four times over just spend time together, to be doing something, anything together. You hadn’t known him, for a long time, not really, but all the time you had spent together felt like years. You saw the way he looked at you and you wanted him to look at you like that, you yearned for it but he lied to you. Over and over again. He’d never gotten the chance to officially ask you but you knew he’d wanted to. That was over now.

“For you.”

“No, no.” You burst up from the floor and struggle to rip the key ring off your belt. “You don’t get to do that now. It’s too late.”

“I wanted to ask you. Everyday I wanted to ask you but I-, I felt so guilty about keeping everything from you but I told you the truth. I never lied to you, C.K.. Please, just give me a chance.” Steve’s knuckles are white from gripping the bars when you turn back. You shake your head and toss the keys a few feet from the bars.

“Free yourself, and stop fucking calling me that, I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to see you again.”

“Wake up.”

A consistent pressure finds itself on your shoulder and you shrug it off, trying to curl back into the warmth you feel around you. A twin pressure finds your other shoulder and there’s nothing you can do but sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shit, Jane.”

She stands in front of you, her eyes wide and expectant. A single finger extends as she points to Steve’s sleeping form next to you on the couch. You sigh and brush stray hair out of her face.

You had come home from a shift at Tiff’s and before you even had a chance to toe off your shoes, there was a tapping from your bedroom window. Groaning, out the open window you called, ‘Give me ten. I’m sweating like hell and I gotta shower.” Steve gave you a small salute and then flopped down dramatically on the grass with his arms crossed behind his head as if he had only just been stargazing. You laughed to yourself before taking the fastest shower of your life while still cutting time out to shave, just in case. The night was young after all; Jane was off doing who-knows-what and your dad wasn’t due back till morning.

When Steve had finally been let in, he tossed candy, popcorn packets and a couple of tapes on your bed proclaiming he ‘had the goods.’ That’s how you ended up asleep in Steve Harrington’s arms on your living room couch.

Now, you lower Jane’s arm from pointing at Steve. She was growing on you–though you’d never admit that to her–and she seemed to be adjusting well enough to life in Hawkins but she never stopped being so jumpy. Maybe it’s because your dad wouldn’t socialize her, claiming for some ‘because I said so’ reason that you weren’t to say a word about her to anyone else. Even though he had told you she was just a foreign exchange student, you had chalked it up to some sort of secret police operation, like witness protection or something. You would be jumpy too.

“It’s okay,” you assure her, “this is just my friend-”

“Steve.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you sputter, your stomach doing flips.

“Steve. Wake up Steve. Hopper home soon.”

“Shit, shit.” You shove Steve with two hands until he groans to life. Not bothering to give him time to adjust, you yank him by the arm and away into your bedroom as you hear the familiar sound of a truck ambling up the dirt road. You slam the door behind you and run to pry open the window. You had promised to keep whatever relationship you had with Steve a secret from your dad, whether you were just friends or not. It made sense to you, considering he was the police chief and had never been know to approve of you hanging out with the opposite sex but now you think maybe Steve had a different reason for making that pact.

“I’ll call you,” He promises as he begins to climb out the window.

You grab his wrist to stop him, your stomach doing flips as you ask, “How-why did she know you?” Steve’s mouth drops into a frown and he shakes his head slightly. His mouth opens and closes without a word. He swings his leg back over the window sill and grabs both of your hands in his.

“You can’t tell anyone this, C.K., especially not Hopper.” You nod fervently. You just wanted the truth. His eyes make a quick dash between your door and your face. He darts over to lock your door before continuing. “You know a couple weeks ago when I had the fight with Billy? Well, it wasn’t just Billy.” Steve sits down on the edge of your bed and pulls you down to join him. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “And you know how all these weird things have been happening in Hawkins lately?”

“Like what happened to Barb Holland?” Frigid air snakes in through your open window, sending a chill up your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself in a tight hug.

“Yeah, like that.” You nod, the broken voices of the Hollands echoing in your ears from the many, many times they paid a visit to your father at the station. “Well, they all kind of come back to this thing that’s really wrong with Hawkins. It’s sort of like, poisoning it.”

“Chemicals?”

“No, not like that, it’s like, ah-” Steve buries his head in his hands. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with Jane, anyway.” You pull one of his hands away from his face, searching his expression.

“You see that’s the thing she’s like a key-the key to all of it.”

“How long have you known about her, Steve?” You stand from the bed as he turns his eyes downward toward his feet, running his hands along the legs of his feet. The walls of the cabin are thin and you can hear your father’s voice as he talks to Jane. “How long?” You plead in a whisper.

“A little over a year…just about.”

“Holy shit!” You cry. Starting to pace, the sick feeling of utter loneliness seeps through you as you remember a year in a secluded cabin with a stranger girl who somehow, through little words, had captured your father’s heart and attention more than you ever had. A hand touches the small of your back and you swat it away.

“C.K.-”

A heavy knock sounds at the door, both of you turning in its direction. “Is everything alright in there?”

“Who else?”

“Huh?” Steve’s eyes don’t leave the door.

“Who else knows about her?” You slap an open palm against his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. He shakes his head, his eyebrows upturned.

“Please, you don’t want to-”

“Who?”

“Mike, Dustin, The Byers, I don’t know–the whole crew!” Steve exclaims, throwing his arms in the air. You sink back down to the edge of the bed, a hand on your chest as your vision begins to blur from tears.

“Nancy?” You croak.

“Yeah, Nancy too.” Steve rubs at his eyes as his gaze returns to the floor. You wipe the tears from your eyes with the heels of your palms, looking up towards the ceiling.

“If you don’t give me an answer, I’m coming in,” Your father’s voice booms from the otherside of the door.

“We should really-”

“I don’t understand,” You sniffed, “why is she here?” Steve’s mouth takes that pattern again of opening and closing without a sound. “Please, before he comes in here.” He places a palm to his forehead and sighs.

“She’s got these powers-”

“Get out!” You cry, standing and shoving Steve towards the window with all the strength you can muster.

“I’m telling you the truth! She opened this portal to-”

“Get out!”

“Harrington!” The door bursts up with a crack and you don’t have to worry about removing Steve yourself because your father is on him in seconds, dragging him by the collar. He claws wildly at the bigger man’s arms but it’s pointless.

“There are these monsters! The demogorgon, the demodogs, the mindflayer!”

You cup your hands over your ears, muffling the rest of the yelling as you climb your way up the bed and into the safety of your blankets. A few moments pass before a small voice breaks the silence.

“You okay?

You pull down the blanket just enough to see Jane peering at you through the doorway.

“Close my door.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay!” Steve exclaims, the slam of his fists against the metal bars reverberating through the small room. You can hear his labored breath as he continues, “You were right, okay? I-I lied to you.” With an arm steadying you against the wall, you stop at the doorway. “Hopper didn’t just arrest me because of the window.” He paces the expanse of his cell as he continues, “Yeah, you see, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m not exactly the stealthiest man alive. The first night I tried to get your attention, I got caught. Hopper’s got these traps around the cabin and I must’ve set one off. He dragged me out by the collar just like he did that last time and he made me swear on my life that I stay away from you, that I never tell you the truth about Hawkins. He told me he’d make my life a living hell if I ever put you in danger.”

You ball your hands into fists, your nails digging into the skin of your palm. “Why would my father give a shit what happens to me?”

Steve slumps down on the bench, scoffing. “How could you say that?”

The nights spent alone at the kitchen table eating a lukewarm microwave dinner with only the bright white sheet of your homework keeping you company, the medals you hang on your wall that you have to congratulate yourself over, the ding of the toaster as the favorite food of some other girl is passed around the breakfast table: these are the things you remind yourself of when you think just maybe you were wrong, that you had nothing to feel sorry over.

“Do you know-” you have to clear your throat before you can force the rest of your question out as you blink rapidly to dry your tempted eyes, “Do you know what it feels like to be replaced?”

“You haven’t-

“Don’t tell me that I haven’t been because I have.” Even though you know it’s the truth, you’ve thought about it for months, you repeat it to yourself quieter, “I have.” A lightheaded feeling surrounds you as your eyes begin to blur with tears. “I know because I’ve been the replacement. I told you about my sister?” Steve’s eyes find the ground as he nods. “Well then you know that it wasn’t long until my dad was on to bigger and better things. I was the replacement for Sara and when that didn’t work–not for my mom, not for my dad–he found something new.” You shrug, a dark laugh escaping your lips before you knew it was coming. “I guess it makes sense she has superpowers. That’s the next big thing, right?” Hot tears sting your cheeks as you continue to laugh to yourself. “Even for you I was just a replacement for Nancy, huh? If I hadn’t been there, it would’ve just been whatever girl was working the counter.”

You sink to the floor, your back resting against the wall as your body is wracked with tears. You pull your legs to your chest, snaking your arms around yourself in a tight hug. There wasn’t a thought you hadn’t had before but to speak them out loud, it made them real.

With your head buried in your knees, you only hear the jingle of the keys as they hit the linoleum floor before a warm pair of arms wraps around you.

“You were never a replacement,” Steve whispers against your hair. “Not to Hop, not to me, not to anyone.” You look up at him, his teary eyes reflecting your own. He cups your face with the palm of one hand. “Listen to me. I was selfish, okay? I spend my time babysitting these insane children–who are much braver than I’ll ever be–as they fight against these fucking nightmare monsters and all I have to defend myself is a shitty baseball bat with nails, that I didn’t even make myself. And when I come home at the end of the day, no one’s even there to pat me on the back and they wouldn’t be there even if I never came home. So even though I promised my life to Hopper, I had to see you. I put you in danger because I didn’t just want you, I needed you.”

“Holy shit, you’re really serious!”

“I’m so fucking seri-”

With a fistful of his shirt in your hand, you pull him flush against you, crashing your lips into his. It’s not a perfect first kiss, far from it as both of you struggle to find a comfortable position but it says more to both of you than you’d ever be able to express in words.

When you pull away, you shake your head incredulously as you laugh, “God, I thought you were crazy!”

Steve tucks your hair behind your ear and smiles, “Baby, you have no idea.”

…

You wake to the sound of birds chirping happily outside. Reveling in the warmth, you burrow back into Steve’s side before you take a second look at your surroundings. The door to the jail cell hangs open,the key ring abandoned not far from your feet. You poke a finger into Steve’s ribs. He wakes with a start before his lips form a crooked smile.

“Hey, I’m free.”

“Well, you won’t be if we don’t get out of here soon,” You laugh, helping him up to his feet. You close the door to the cell and lock it tightly before turning back to Steve. “I’m starving.”

“Breakfast?” Steve smirks, offering you his hand. You take it, eyeing the station lobby quickly before dragging him out. “How about Tiff’s?”

You roll your eyes. “Anywhere but Tiff’s.”

“You know, I make a mean bowl of cereal.”

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

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