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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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in which steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

Steve is pulling up at the Hopper-Byers house around ten at night, hoping that El remembers their little date. Hoping even more that the Chief will let them do this.

The door opens before Steve so much as closes his car, and a very excited teenager already runs toward him, laughing when she crashes into his chest, the impact of which makes Steve stumble back against the car.

"Good evening to you, too, you little menace." He ruffles her hair, excited to see how long it's gotten again, a mop of wild curls.

"Hi," she says into his chest, hands hooked behind his back, and they just stand there and cuddle for a minute. The night air is refreshing after the day's boiling heat, and it's good to bask for a moment.

After a moment, Hopper appears in the front door, framed by the low light coming from inside, but even in the dark, Steve thinks he can make out the expression on the Chief's face. How he tries for stern, but can't quite manage it. Not when they've all been through so much.

"Hey, kid," he says, approaching the siblings where they are still hugging. "You looking to kidnap my daughter?"

"Yes, actually," Steve grins. "Will you let me?"

Hop gives a long-suffering sigh and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "If there's one thing I've learned, Steve, it's that I can't stop you from anything you set your mind to. So I don't think I've much of a choice in the matter, let alone a say."

El chuckles and leans up to press a little kiss to Hopper's cheek. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and Steve snickers. "Get out of my sight, you two, but I expect to see you both at breakfast tomorrow."

"Eleven o'clock," Steve says in lieu of a groan, because he loves Sunday breakfast at the Hopper-Byers' place.

"Eight."

"Ten-thirty."

"Nine-thirty, last offer. Take it or leave it, boy."

"Deal," Steve grins, then turns back to El. "You ready to go?"

She nods. "Ready." Then turns back to Hop and gives him another kiss to the cheek and a quick hug. "Goodnight, dad."

"Have a good night, kid." As El bounds around the car to jump in on the other side, Hop turns to Steve, who's already moving in for a hug, too. "You, too. Be careful."

"Always. It's just stars, though."

"I know. Still."

"I know."

It's good. The hug. The worry. The way they care and talk and accept. Makes Steve think that it was all worth it, sometimes. Moments like this, under the stars. He gets to have this.

The Chief lets him to eventually and then they're speeding off. Steve is taking El to the weather top in the middle of the night, snacks and drinks and blankets in the back of his car. Because El has never seen a shooting star, let alone a meteor shower. And Steve is dead set to change that.

The other kids are gonna be so jealous when they hear that Steve and El went to watch the stars fall from the sky (well, not really, but that's what it looks like, and that's what Eddie weaves into his stories sometimes), but Steve doesn't care. This is for El. This is for the little girl, injured and weak and frightened, and for the boy who taught her the meaning of magic.

This is only for them.

They don't trek up to the real weather top, since it would be too exhausting of a trip, and too dangerous in the dark. Instead, Steve parks on the open field of a smaller hill that offers them a perfect, uninterrupted view of the sky. No trees, no houses, no excess light to bother them.

"Yeah, this is perfect," he mutters as he kills the engine.

They spread out the blanket together right beside the car, grabbing snacks and drinks and more blankets in case they get cold at some point. El immediately lies down and reaches for some cookies while Steve goes back to the car, putting on one of their favourite tapes. Kim Wilde's 1982 album. One of El's first ever favourite albums.

It makes Steve smile, especially when he hears the excited squeal when the first notes carry through the air.

He eventually settles beside her on the blanket, the music just loud enough to create a nice atmosphere in the otherwise quiet night, and Steve already feels like there's something incredibly special about this moment.

And then El gasps. "Steve," she whispers, pointing up at the sky above them.

He can see the last remnants of the shooting star that lit up the the night and, most importantly, El's face. She's gripping him now, frantically scanning the sky for more, and Steve chuckles, moving his arm in her grip enough to take her hand if that's what she wants.

"What was that?" she asks.

"A shooting star," Steve explains. "They're not real stars, though. There are rocks floating around in space, and sometimes the Earth will move through, like, a chain of them, and then they burn up when they enter the Earth's atmosphere. That's what makes them look like that. Pretty, right?"

She's nodding, refusing to take her eyes away from the sky, and Steve settles back, too, getting more comfortable on the blanket. It's not long before the next shooting star appears - a larger one this time, cutting through half the night sky before it disappears.

"Wow," El whispers beside him, and Steve wants to burst at that genuine wonderment in her eyes, her voice, the way she's squeezing his hand.

"You get to make a wish when you see a shooting star."

"A wish?"

"Yeah. But don't tell me. It has to be a secret wish, and then maybe it'll come true."

At that, El nods solemnly, always so damn serious, like wishing on a shooting star deserves to be treated with the utmost care and calculation. Maybe it does. Steve won't judge. It's not like El grew up with many serious opportunities to make a wish, let alone make it freely.

"Can I wish something for you?" she interrupts that particular train of thought, and Steve stops short, looking at her.

"You wanna wish something for me?" She nods. "What would you wish for me?"

She meets his eyes with a little frown. "It's secret."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's okay."

Oh, he wants to burst again. But he only squeezes her hand. "Yeah, I think you can wish something for me."

And then she only smiles, and Steve wants to know, wants to ask, wants to be seen just a bit less, wants to exist only between the stars and the wishes that El could have for him.

He closes his eyes, focusing only on her gasps, her hums, her chuckles, her little wows, and he smiles.

Later, he tells her about the constellations he remembers. Some he made up himself. Some that Eddie made up. His heart jumps a little at the thought of the metalhead he never thought to fall in love with. Eddie who loves the stars, who knows so many seafarer's tales about them, mythology that Steve doesn't know if it's genuine or if Eddie made it up. If he's writing his own mythology. Steve wouldn't put it past him.

It's long after midnight and silence has settled between them, both of them somewhere deep inside their own heads, yet anchored in the moment, together. It's serene.

Maybe it's that serenity that gets Steve talking.

"Hey El?"

"Yes?"

"I kissed Eddie."

She gasps again, but not because of a shooting star this time, and turns to face him. "You kissed Eddie?"

"Yeah." The smile is on his lips before he can even try to fight it, and he finds that he doesn't want to. "I was really scared to do it. But it was good. I think..."

"Yeah?"

Steve exhales slowly, seeking solace in El's hand, who immediately squeezes his again, her other hand coming up to run through his hair. A calming motion that never fails to ground him. El is the only one allowed to do this, the only one who does it right. "I think I might have fallen in love with Eddie."

She nods, smile on her face, and then falls forward, head landing on his chest. They don't really have a sense of personal space around each other and Steve loves it, combing through her hair now -- a motion that is just as calming.

"That was my wish."

"Come again?"

"My wish. My shooting star wish," she says, shuffling so she can look at him without moving from her spot. "I wished that you'd smile like you did when you told me you kissed Eddie. And if he makes you smile, he can stay."

"You'll allow it, huh?" Steve chuckles, but El is dead serious when she nods.

"I'll allow it."

And his chuckle turns a bit more genuine now, his lungs filling with the perfection of this moment. He has people that are fiercely protective of him. He has a pretty boy willing to kiss him that he doesn't have to share with those people yet. He has the stars above, willing to grant wishes despite the horrors they know he's seen. And he has El.

In a way, it's really all he could wish for.

El stays the night at Steve's, though he has to carry her inside from his car and wake her like he used to. They share a bed like they used to, and in the morning she'll wear his clothes like she used to.

It's good. It's perfect. And when they arrive for breakfast at ten, Hopper doesn't even call them out on being late when he sees the happy, content smiles on their faces. He just very discreetly kicks Steve's butt, but he had that coming.

#steve & eleven #steve & hopper #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #time travel au #as in i picture this to happen in this verse but like wayyyy after the story will have been concluded i just like my steve&el dynamic #kim wilde is so underrepresented in this fandom and it's a real tragedy :(#idk what this is let's all remember i still have covid and thought coherence is not really a thing that happens to me lately #dio words

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hotwaterandmilk · 10 months

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I'm still not well so this isn't going to be articulate, but I wanted to say something anyway.

In the wake of Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (amongst other titles) being purged from streaming I've seen countless posts saying "This is terrible, we need to stop this practice -- they might purge a good show next!" and yeah, for sure a lot of titles being impacted by streaming purges/lack of physical media/a decline in archiving right now aren't going to be remembered for changing the world.

However, I think it is vital that we fight to preserve these titles for their own sake not just because "What if next time it's something we actually like?!" There is value is preserving things widely regarded as "bad" not just because I have firm beliefs about the absurdity of taste, but because who gives a shit if something is deemed "good?" Actual human people put their time and energy into realising these artistic visions. Even if the results are arguably not "good" or "popular", should the efforts of these artists be lost to the sands of time? No, no they fucking shouldn't.

I share a lot of art on this blog from titles very few people consider culturally important or valuabe. However, I don't look at the things I collect & share like that. Even some of the most objectively absurd titles I own are still pieces of art that were developed, published, and consumed by humans in the real world. Whether they've turned out to be broadly memorable or not is irrelevant because they existed and that in itself makes them worthy of preservation so that others can choose to familiarise themselves with them long after the original creative team is gone.

So yes, we should all be trying to preserve the media that's important to us and not let corporations try to stamp out every trace of a financial (though not necessarily artistic) misstep. However, it shouldn't take the threat of something we, personally, like being taken away to stir us into giving a shit.

Even the demise of less admired works should concern us and make us start to burn copies of Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies because it might not mean anything to you or I right now, but to some kid in 20 years it could be a seminal experience that leads them to follow their dreams. Or it could become a cult classic that people reflect on at watch parties years in the future. Or it could continue to be a footnote in the history of television that nobody really cares about.

Ultimately I don't think it matters what level of value we arbitrarily assign to media now or in the future, we should be trying to preserve as much of it as possible so that generations from now people can enjoy the option of engaging with these titles should they so wish.

#personal #idk i just feel strongly that even trash should be allowed to exist #and all of us be able to access it if we so choose #some of the most meaningful film experiences of my life have involved B movies and other “low” culture properties #i'm not well enough to even start rambling about high and low culture and the rich #but as an audience we should be able to select what we want to consume #and we should be able to access it regardless of local laws or cultural norms #that's why the efforts of archivists and media preservationists from the lost media wiki to the louvre are so important #“but this spongebob ad had no impact on society who cares if it is accessible or not?”#you can't determine the value of something based solely on your own experience with it #so yeah spongebob ads and episodes of wheel of fortune should continue to exist #and so should the trashiest shoujo manga in the world #god and i haven't even touched on how disproportionately things like this affect work by artists of colour #queer artists and disabled artists #it's super fucking shit and i refuse to let streaming take away these media choices #ok back to my covid sick bed

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