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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!

Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.

He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.

He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.

But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.

Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?

“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.

His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.

“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”

“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.

Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.

Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.

Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.

“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”

Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.

Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“

Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”

Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.

Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.

Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.

“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“

The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.

They were covered by the van but, still.

“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.

The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.

Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”

He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.

Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.

Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.

Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.

He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”

Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.

Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.

Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.

Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.

And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.

Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.

That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.

It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.

Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.

He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.

And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.

Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.

“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”

He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.

“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.

“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”

Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”

There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.

He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”

“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.

“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.

“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.

Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.

He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.

Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.

Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.

For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.

Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…

“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.

“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”

Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.

“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”

Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.

“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”

Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.

Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.

Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.

He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.

The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.

“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.

It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.

Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.

For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”

Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.

“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.

“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.

It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.

Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.

He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.

He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.

It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.

“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.

“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”

He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.

Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.

Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.

This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.

“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.

“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”

Steve grins wolfishly.

Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.

“My go.”

This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.

“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.

“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.

“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”

Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.

“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”

Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.

Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”

And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.

and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves

tags below:

@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre

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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months

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misha's masterlists

Hi, I'm Misha. Thank you for diving into my stories and supporting my writing :)

My fanfics [+this blog] are dedicated to Steve Harrington. All fanfic series, one-shots, blurbs, etc. listed below are written by me. Do not repost or share anywhere without proper credit. Thank you.

SERIES MASTERLISTS:

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..."

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

[Part IX - blurb] | [Part IX - full]

[Part X] | MORE COMING SOON

SUMMARY: WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU.

HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU...

BUT WILL HE?

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"You're there. You've always been there."

Steve Harrington x OC!fem!reader Childhood friends to lovers. Sloooowburn. Angst. Romance. Smut with plot. Action. Told from second-person view, reader is Nicole (character from S1), different POV, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, pre-S1-S4, eventual post-S4 universe.

[PART I] | [PART II]

Summary: Steve Harrington was six years old when he met you: Nicole St. James, the girl who carries the other half of him. Since 1972, the two of you have been inseparably tethered by the soul. You give Steve a home in his big house with no parents, and he gives your introverted heart a longing for someone. The King of Hawkins High and princess of this small town, you tell each other absolutely everything...except that you are in love with each other.

Everything changes that one afternoon at school, when you catch the school's social outcast -- Jonathan Buyers -- has been stalking Steve, his posse and his girl, Nancy. Little do you both know, the monsters in your favorite fairytales are real. And you're both going to have to fight them together.

You both share the best days and worst days, through childhood and teen years, until you both find yourselves roped into the perils that exist beneath your feet in Hawkins.

But through it all, despite all the doubt, Steve knows one thing: you're there. You've always been there.

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"At the Chateau, We'll Be Alright."

Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers x fem!reader A crossover au inspired by Saltburn and Call Me by Your Name. Additional Inso from Joe's theater performance as in Spring Awakening. Song Inso: "Chateau" by Djo

Strangers to best friends to lovers. Slowburn. Angst. Romance, with polyamory themes and schemes. Smut with hella plot.

[MULTI-PART SERIES] COMING SOON. Click here for a preview.

Summary: The reader lives with her parents at a fancy chateau, in France. This year, her father offers their home as a housing sanctuary to a select student or graduate. He decides to invite two graduate students to live with their family over the summer, coming from different working class backgrounds, and help with their academic paperwork as a professor of archaeology.

Steve Harrington: a rich kid from a swanky boarding school with a bad boy reputation and too much charm for his own good. Surprisingly, his grades say otherwise. A’s and B’s, his parents claim that is seeking one-on-one tutoring so that he can progress in his studies — but it sounds more like an excuse to ship him off for longer periods of time, giving them an out for having their son around during the summer. The pretty boy’s all about ladies…but that’s only because he hasn’t met a boy who awakens his bisexuality. Yet.

Jonathan Byers: a kid from the lower working class, excelling in his studies and AP programs at the same boarding school as Steve which he only got into because of community sponsorship and grants. Quiet wallflower, little to no friends, a bit cynical. A closeted gay, he’s more determined to stick with being perceived as “ace” than come out of the closet. Until he goes to stay at a chateau with a handsome boy, and a beautiful girl who understands him.

Twists, turns and terrifying risks, you all put your hearts on the line that summer at the Chateau. Add the reader's cousin Eddie into the mix, along with her best friend Robin, Steve's ex-girlfriend Nancy, Jonathan's estranged mother and your progressive parents alongside Steve's absent parents -- it's a cruel summer.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mishas masterlists #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman

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strawberrybyers · 16 days

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i truly would not be mad if nancy breaks up with jonathan and tells steve to move on. and for vickie to tell robin she’s not interested but is willing to be friends. so nancy and robin decide they need to hang out after a long day of heartbreak and throughout their convos of explaining everything that’s been going on, they realize they have feelings for each other. i truly would not be mad at that. in fact, that’s exactly what i want to happen 😌

#ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #who cares what the straights will think #they’ll be like ‘oh but that doesn’t make sense plot wise’#actually it does!#there’s been theories nancy is queer since s1 #and s4 left off with the jancy + stancy love triangle #have jonathan go to college & steve realize he needs to move on #he mentions crawling backwards as a kid so now have him crawl forward by having him get over nancy #and vickie is dating whoever that guy is and then just play off that scene between vickie & robin as robin’s pov where she thought vickie #was interested but she isn’t #then we have the foundation set up for nancy and robin to be together #they’re already friends #have them hang out and get into a deep convo #and robin trusts nancy so she tells her she’s a lesbian & vickie rejected her #and that’s when nancy shares that she feels like she’s always been attracted to girls #AND THEN THEY KISS AND RONANCE IS CANON #LIKE ITS SO EASY THEY NEED TO JUST FUCKING DO IT #no one cares for the straights. do what needs to be done for the gays and give us ronance 😁

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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thoughts thoughts thoughts i apologise it’s 2am i have to sorry @babyboymunson

Steve knows that Eddie has a whole library of characters. And when he says library, that’s not an understatement; because Eddie has a lot of them, and he keeps all his characters sheets incredibly organised. Even those for the NPCs.

He claims not to have favourites because, “They’re all my badass little idiot children, Stevie, don’t make me choose.”

So Steve doesn’t.

But the thing is, Steve has never been above choosing a favourite badass little idiot child — sure, it might have changed daily with the kids, but still! He has a favourite character of Eddie’s. One who survived the campaign, actually, to everyone’s utter disbelief both past and present.

It’s one of Eddie’s first, from before he started taking on the role as Dungeon Master more often than that of a player.

And when Steve first finds out about the character, reads his character sheet and sees the art Eddie had made for him, that is when he knows: one day he’ll find a way to marry this blushing disaster boy.

Sir Gonthar Veten, a human paladin with high charisma and uncharacteristically low strength, laughably low intelligence but hey, respectable wisdom modifier. “A bit of a wild card,” as Eddie has put it, pulling his hair in front of his face to hide his little smile or the absolutely besotted expression.

It doesn’t take him too long to find out that Gonthar is essentially based on him, and even his name is an anagram. Oh, Eddie had it bad! He teases him mercilessly, but they both know that’s Steve’s way of saying, “You nerd, you absolute nerd, I can’t believe it took me so long, but know that you’re the love of my life, too.”

So, in 1983, Eddie has a crush on Steve and is so mad about it, he made a DnD character about it.

In 1986, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time inside his new government-sponsored trailer and begins what will be the rest of his life.

In 2006, Steve buys Eddie a star for their anniversary, and Eddie laughs through the veil of tears when he sees what Steve named it.

“Sir Gonthar Veten,” he reads, grin so wide that it has to hurt. “Can’t believe you went and named a star after yourself, Stevie.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, stepping into Eddie’s space and pulling him close. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did, Munson.”

“You’re so lame,” Eddie sniffles, and it’s the happiest little sound. “Thank you.”

Steve brushes a kiss to his forehead, his temple, his cheek, and finally his lips. “Happy anniversary, Eddie.”

#steddie #steddie fic #this is like all over the place but i just had to get the concept out someone else can go make it good and better #just eddie having an unattainable crush on steve and projecting onto dnd like we all don’t do the same with our blorbos okay #they’re in love your honour #dio words #buying stars probably wasn’t even a thing in 1996 but let me have this #nvm i made it 2006 now but like i’ll give this proper thought when it’s not 2:30am #dio’s steddie ramblings

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trashpocket · 10 months

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hurt steve hours </3

#steve harrington #steve harrington whump #steve whump #hurt steve #stranger things fanart #stranger things #steddie #i just love it when our bb boi gets battered like we do

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stevesbipanic · 11 months

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One year.

A lot can happen in a year.

Steve certainly thinks so.

In a year you can meet the love of your life.

You can also almost lose them forever.

In a year you can find a family you didn't know you needed.

You can also spend months sitting by their hospital bed.

In a year you can move out of home.

You can also have your new black eye iced in your boyfriend's trailer.

In a year you can leave town.

You can also find out there's other people like you out there.

In a year you can live with your favourite two people.

You can also storm out after a big fight.

In a year you can loose everything you ever had.

You can als–

"Stevie?"

You can also find out the things worth keeping won't let themselves be lost.

"Hey Eds."

A lot can happen in a year.

#hiiiiiii im back #wow a year since we were introduced to eddie thats insane #steddie truly brought so many things to me #i found amazing friends that i would do anything for #i met the love of my life #thank you steddie #happy anniversary #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #steddie #st4 #stranger things season 4 #ficlet

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hungharrington · 1 year

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Your last ask’s tag shfjfkdk BYEEEE. Giving Steve a handjob in the theatre, (bonus points if it’s a super fancy one byeeeee)

ALSO giving him a handy whilst staying at your parents’ house for the holidays because you both know you are way too loud to do anything else discreetly. He’s such a good boyfriend, and he really is acting like the model son in law, but you just want to ruin him ❤️😮‍💨 kissing his face, cooing at him, lifting your top and bouncing your boobs around his face, just doing the most so that he’ll whine

you 🤝 me obsessed with giving steve a handy in places you absolutely shouldn’t hehe

at your parents house oh my god yes - and look, steve’s known to be respectable enough around town, with his parents name and all that, he really shouldn’t be too worried but it’s undeniable how sweet it is that he is worried :) he just wants this weekend away with your parents to go well, okay? he’s been forbidden to date a girl once before and while you’re certainly worth the scraped hands from sneaking in windows, steve’s not sure his knees can handle it— so, yeah, he wants this weekend to go as swimmingly as it can. you, however, are feeling devious. you’re not outright with it, you know better than to do that especially around your parents but you certainly are pulling out the stops that you know drive steve mad — like those sweet short summer dresses he drools over every time, but forgoing a bra of any sort this time. it’s a lethal combination and you know it. best of all, is the like unspoken ban on sex between the two of you; even if your parents were trusting enough to put you in the same room, it’s only because they share a wall with it, meaning unless you figure out how to bounce on his cock without wrecking your vocal chords, sex is out the window

steve knows this- so really, he should be anticipating a little bit of tomfoolery from you — but it doesn’t cross his mind when you come and meet him out by pool. in fact, nothing crosses his mind at all when he see you in the sundress, rucked up in your hands, showing off a dangerous amount of thigh as you wind around the pool loungers to his. you smile down at him, shirtless and stretched out to soak up some sun. “budge up,” you say, knees leaning into the cushion and steve obeys without a word, scooching over so you get sit beside him— there’s not quite enough room for two people so you end pressed against him, head leaning against his shoulder as your hand comes to rest on his chest. steve curls his arm around you with a content hum, keeping a generous distance from anything too touchy — his hand firmly on your shoulder.

“what are you up to, hm?” he asks, pushing his sunglasses up atop his head. your fingers start to stroke lightly, soft touches along his chest as you think about your reply. “just missed you,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder. your hand on his chest shifts a bit, swirling little patterns down across his tummy, which tenses for a moment beneath you. “miss touching you,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to his skin, adoring the way steve’s sucks in careful breath. his hand on your shoulder gives a light squeeze and he smiles, leaning over to brush his lips against your temple, “me too, honey,” he assures, voice low, “but we can’t—“ he swallows a bit as your hand wanders about, fingertips teasing along his v-line tantalisingly, just enough to get him interested. “your- your parents.” he reminds you, voice a bit shakier this time— his eyes are glued to your hand, muscles rippling under the skin wherever it scratches over.

“just be quiet then,” you counter, a teasing smile toying on your lips. “and be quick.” this time, when your hand travels back down, you follow his v-line all the way down to his cock, which twitches the moment your hand nears it. steve is protesting in an instant, a little ‘wait, wait, wait’ but it dies off when you palm against his cock and shit, the couple days apart must be getting to him because just one touch is enough to have his head dropping back, giving a raspy exhale, “fuck, honey.” his hardness grows beneath your touches quickly, cock pushing up against the fabric of his shorts but he’s still got that niggling worry in the back of his mind, “baby,” he pants a bit, his hips shifting about under your touch. he doesn’t try pull your hand away, just fixes you with a pleading look, “your- your parents could…” but his sentence trails off when your hand snakes up to tug on the front of your dress, letting your tits peak out and steve full on groans, lust clouding his gaze as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. your spit in your hand and resume, slinking your hand back down his body, this time you sneak your hand into his shorts, fingers curling around his hot, leaking cock and steve stammers out another breathy moan— bringing his fist up to his mouth to try quieten himself.

you pump his cock, starting slow, purposefully ignoring the head of it and instead starting to press more kisses into his shoulder and along his collar. steve’s breaths come a little heavier, coming out with a hint of a whine to them. you pull him out of his shorts, hidden behind your own body and greedily stare; his tip so pink and the vein down the side you always want to drag your tongue along. “missed this cock,” you hum sweetly, beginning to twist your hand, stroking him faster. steve’s tummy clenches, hips chasing your hand instinctively and when you finally thumb over his sensitive tip, steve whimpers loudly. “and your noises,” you say, almost teasingly, nosing along his collarbones and dragging your tits against his chest. “but you’re being too loud, stevie,” you pout, purposefully rubbing along his slit repeatedly in that way you know makes steve fall apart— he whines, jagged sweet little noises that accompany every harsh breath of his. “baby,” he whimpers again, pleading. “please, please, please,”

you pick up the pace, the slick sound of your hand on his cock getting louder and louder as you try bring him to the edge. steve lets out another soft moan, his volume climbing in his desperation. “christ, fuck, honey, y’gotta- ah, y-you feel so good,” and his eyes switch between clenched tight and staring hungrily at your tits. “c’mon, baby, gotta be quiet,” you insist in a rasp, “you can be good and quiet right? or else i’ll have to…” you change your pace, slowing til you’re barely stroking him and steve is hips buck up against you in an instant. “no!” he cries, too loud, then lowers his voice, brown eyes finding yours as he begins to plea. “no, please, i- fuck, i’ll be quiet and— oh my god, uh,” and his voice breaks off into another whine that he smothers into his fist as you work his cock faster again. steve tilts his head back, baring his throat, mouth open as another whiney warbles out, mixing with his whispered curses, “fuck, fuck, ah, fuck,” and it’s not until you speak with a tone of faux-innocence, nodding down to his cock and coo at him, “y'gonna let him cum? :( he just wants to cum, baby” and steve just falls apart, hot cum spurting from his tip and you just keep stroking him, teasing out those pathetic whimpery noises as he writhes in pleasure, all hot and bothered- he’s so noisy too, little, “thank you, ah, fuck, thank you” slipped between his moans as he fucks your hand through his orgasm, coated in his own cum. you actually consider stroking him through to another one, with his cum as lube, when there’s a faint call through the house for lunch and you just grin, releasing his cock and licking up what’s on your hand. steve’s chest is heaving, eyes still cinched shut as he tries to reel himself in — already thinking of ways to get revenge on you for making him sit through a lunch with you parents with his cum-stained shorts, especially considering you seem to enjoy his blushing face far too much

#have this!#im straying from my loving soft smut roots #i'll be back to em soon i gotta finish the sweet talk / sour talk series thing #but GOD yes anon ur so me #i do just want to hear him whine <3 especially in places we shouldn't be doing things hehe #jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader smut

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hammity-hammer · 9 months

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steve harrington realizing that he’s got no purpose if he’s not protecting the people he loves from outer-dimensional beings, and has a minor (read: major) spiral about it post-vecna & the party fixing everything. he’s just a regular ole 20 something with no purpose— his friends are all in school, except eddie, who managed to pick up an apprenticeship as an electrician; putting all of that wire knowledge to use (just not in cars, he hasn’t hotwired one since 1986 and he’d like to keep it that way si vous plais) and making the rich houses have even cooler guts than they deserve.

the kids end up graduating (their first tries) and heading as one little pack to the same school (don’t ask me which, i’m a college drop out) and steve, eddie, and rob end up staying just outside of indy. rob finished school early, because of course she did, and she found that she may have a knack for hanging around high schoolers, so why not teach them how to become polyglots like she is?

steve still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing— he bartends at a little club in the gayborhood, because they went there so often that the bartenders just kind of pushed him into it, and don’t get him wrong— mixing drinks and flirting all night is super fun, but it also… is kind of depressing? even if he gets to be around people like him and see them happy— he knows that a lot of alcohol and drugs causes that happiness and he wants so badly for his people to be out and proud and not murdered for it. but he can’t do that,, so he does the next best thing.

he talks with one of the regulars, andy, who owns a little tattoo shop on the corner, and andy invites him to come check it out. so he does the next day he’s free, and holy fucking christ. tattoos aren’t his thing— at least not on himself, but on other people they’re gorgeous. and they’re painful, but you’re turning the pain into art and you get to live with it in your skin and look at it and think about the fact that you’re here and you made it and you fucking survived. and people purposefully put scars into their bodies? and not in the i-battled-literal-other-dimensional-beings-and-won kind of way, or the i-battled-my-personal-demons-and-won kind of way, which both are things he’s dealt with so fucking intimately— but in the i-will-decorate-this-flesh-prison-and-make-it-a-castle kind of way, and that’s fucking beautiful. queer people taking their bodies and making them into art with ink and hot metal and needles and the love that they have for each other and the passion and the fucking spite at the world that keeps them going and making their presences KNOWN.

and maybe he gets some piercings while he’s there— it’s fascinating and feels so weird and freeing when the needle punctures his flesh and the jewelry goes in— and now he’s got a shiny little ring hanging through his earlobe; his nostril; his lip.

he learns that piercings take time and effort and care and that he has to treat himself with love to be able to heal— and that he is deserving of that love and care and dedication, especially from himself.

he keeps going back, maybe not always to get stabbed, but to watch others have it done. to see how different people’s anatomy takes different piercings, how he can’t have a piercing through his cheeks because he bites them too much when he’s anxious, but the girl that just left got both of hers done and they looked good. they fit her face, like little shiny dimples.

eventually, the piercer, killie, asks steve when he’s going to help them with their needles and their piercings— and he doesn’t know how to react because he hadn’t even thought about it and yet… maybe he could help other people fall in love with themselves and their bodies and help turn them into art one day

maybe he could be a pretty boy with his scars and his metal and his missing chunks and his polos and his jeans and his sneakers.

#steve harrington #i just love him your honor #steve as a piercer would be so cute #piercer!steve #im obsessed with this and sent ro a 5 minute long voice memo today talking about him #because he is near and dear to myheart #as someone that got into piercing to help other people feel beautiful #i think that he would love this #and i absolutely think that he wouldnt know what the fuck to do post vecna #and get jealous that everyone else has a thing #and he doesnt have one #because all of his things were always things he shared #and this is one thing that he shares— but not with his friends #just with the people that own the lives that he’s changing #one stabbing at a time #also queer people in the 80s are the reason we even have the modern day piercing industry and i owe them my life #and the piercer’s name is inspired by the person that pierced my lobes when i was five #and my mom indeed has dimple piercings #so those are my little art inspired by life or whatever moments

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faeriecap · 8 days

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mcu releasing cacw like: “sorry mackie ur character who is actually a crucial part of the cap storyline historically can’t get any significant screentime in cap 3 yeah we know it’s the final movie sorry we had to have an endless fucking montage of maria stark trauma porn bc it actually wasn’t already clear tony was emotionally unstable and had mommy and daddy issues followed by the wandavision cooking special for,,,,,, reasons,,,,,,,,,,,, and oh yeah did we forget to mention this is actually another avengers movie and the first spiderman??? best we can do is a scene where sam’s mean to bucky lol …… what about steve rogers??? wait whos that uhhhh is he even in this script?”

(it’s bc they didn’t care about developing sam at all until he was their “only” option for cap and could safely not be shipped with steve if they ever actually interacted wait what huh who said that)

#IM JUST SO UPSET #i loved their relationship so much and we should have REALLY gotten to see it #cap 3 should have been ALL about steves friendships with sam and bucky in the wake of hydras return #it should have been about samsteve relationship and dynamic ESP if they had always planned for sam not bucky to take up the mantle first #ESP IF THEY STILL WANTED TO DO THE DUMBASS CIVIL WAR PLOTLINE LIKE SAM AND BUCKY AND NAT ARE STEVES REAL FRIENDS #IN COMPARISON TO TONY WHO PROVED WHERE HIS REAL NARCISSISTIC MOTIVES LIE #sam SHOULD HAVE become cap at the end of the movie #STEVE SHOULD HAVE PASSED THE TORCH THEN AND THERE #but noooooo we needed chris evans to market the final avengers 🙄#steeb #sammich #samsteve #stevebucky #marvel #i speak #anti mcu #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #cacw #captain america civil war #captain america #anti tony stark #steve rogers #sam wilson #anthony mackie

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strangersteddierthings · 8 months

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So it's like, Eddie comes back and now he's like really affectionate to Steve in a way he wasn't before. Except it's not Eddie, it's Kas trying to pretend to be Eddie. Kas doesn't have Eddie's memories, just echos of feelings towards people and apparently Eddie had Super Strong Feelings towards Steve. So strong Kas thinks "They must have been lovers. If I play in love with the man with the nailbat, they will surely Believe I Am Eddie and I can help Vecna defeat them from within" and that is NOT the case.

Queue shenanigans as everyone tries to figure what who the hell is in their friend's body while trying to pretend they don't suspect a thing. Because the sudden affection for Steve is just the piece that tips the scale, because there's been an awful lot of things not adding up since Eddie returned. Like Eddie eating veggies happily while Wayne stares at him, suspicious and confused, or when Will asked about DnD and 'Eddie' was like what the fuck is that and Will's like... Dungeons and Dragons? The others said you were just as obsessed as us with it?? and Kas!Eddie has to be like "*nervous laughter* hahaha I jest I love the Dungeons and the Dragons". Etc.

And then poor steve is left to deal with this affection he wanted so bad before but doesn't want now because he didn't want Eddie for his body (even if it is a really nice body) but he liked all the things about Eddie that no longer seem to exist. He's not loud, he's not outspoken and wild, he doesn't care for music anymore, didn't even know what dnd was! Everything that made Eddie Eddie is gone and Steve doesn't know how to feel about finally getting what he wanted (Eddie's affection) but it's not the Eddie Steve fell in love with. But Steve's supposed to be distracting the imposter while the others work out a plan.

#steddie #kas!eddie #what im sayin' is he fools no one but thinks hes infiltrated SO WELL #angst with a happy ending #like eddie is in there the whole time but shoved back and when El finally rips Kas from his head Eddie is like #holy shit it's me guys!!#and then steves like... so... kas said he loved me. Was... was that just him or do you... could we...?#and eddie tells him that kas never loved him‚ that was an act‚ but eddie DOES love him #and then they smooch

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stevebabey · 2 years

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somewhere only we know

a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]

It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.

Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.

You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.

You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.

It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.

And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.

And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.

Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.

You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.

You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.

It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.

When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.

One week becomes two.

You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.

“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.

Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.

It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.

Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.

He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.

He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.

For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.

The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.

“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.

“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“

A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”

“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.

If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.

“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.

“I love you too.”

It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.

Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.

Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?

By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.

It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.

By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.

The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.

Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.

It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.

The phonecall.

Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.

He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.

Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.

It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.

It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too.

If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.

Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.

A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.

But sleep had to come first.

—

You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.

After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.

It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.

It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.

He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.

That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.

You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.

It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.

His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.

“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”

The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond.

“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.

It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”

“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”

“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.

The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.

It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.

“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.

Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.

And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.

“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“

Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.

They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.

“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.

“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”

He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.

How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.

“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”

“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.

Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.

—

Your head is a storm.

Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.

The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.

You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.

You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.

It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.

What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.

Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.

You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.

A murmur of your name.

The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here.

Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.

“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.

It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.

“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?

You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.

“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.

“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“

“Are we okay?”

You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.

Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.

You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets.

He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.

Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name.

You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.

If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.

It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.

He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”

He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.

“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.

Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.

“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”

If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.

Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.

“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”

Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.

His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.

Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.

At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.

When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.

You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.

It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.

It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.

“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.

Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.

The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.

“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.

Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.

He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”

Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.

It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.

The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.

Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.

You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.

His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.

Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.

“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.

It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.

“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.

Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“

He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.

“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”

Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.

“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”

Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.

“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.

Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.

It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.

His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @televisionboy

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emblazons · 1 year

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“I’m stealthy, like a ninja.”

@kingofscoops 30th Birthday Bash day five: skill: free space // color: free space concept: Steve, the "King of Scoops"

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sheisjoeschateau · 1 month

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part IX (FULL)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CHAPTER IX WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - language, innuendo / sexual undertones, mention of dr*gs and abuse and childhood trauma, Max in a coma, talks about death, difficult confrontations. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the 9th chapter, written in full. Not action packed, but vital to the plot. Lots of beautiful moments in here that I really took my time with writing because at this point, I am just so in love with this concept. We learn more about Bauman's past. Steve and Jonathan finally have that talk. Murray is a proud uncle. The kids are adorable. Steve's dream isn't only his. And everyone prepares for doomsday.

Bonus: If you love the song "This Little Life," well then you are in for a treat. It heavily inspired this chapter, and it will be back...

PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.

He’d learned how to endure them. Over the years, he made friends with his demons. So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around. He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut. He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing.

They meant nothing.

At least, that’s what Steve told himself.

Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now.

Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed.

Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids.

Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.

But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.

And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake.

That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.

Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.

He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken.

Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified.

He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.

Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worker that the ride lasted four minutes. Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.

Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner.

And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams.

Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.

Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…

Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself.

For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way.

Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”

On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went.

In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet.

But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.

In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed.

And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.

You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.

But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?

***

Seeing Nancy shuffling out of Argyle’s room is the last thing Jonathan ever could have expected. And he’d seen a lot of shit that prepared him for the unexpected.

The perplexed look in her eyes. The determination in her step to get the hell out of there, despite clearly having been given some sort of useful information after sharing God-knows-what conversation with his Cali best friend.

The two lovers at war made eye contact. It was quick, fleeting. But tense.

Eddie and Robin watched as Jonathan turned to stare at Nancy over his shoulder, and how she froze for a moment to stare back at him through her glassy, wide blue eyes. Her gaze, fixed on him, went from longing to hardened. Nancy walked away, and Jonathan letting her without a word only motivated her to keep walking.

And now, Jonathan had been in Argyle’s room for a good long while. Eddie and Robin had left behind their own little comforting conference of sorts to join the adults downstairs, while the kids had set off in other directions of the Harrington house.

But before that, during all the upstairs drama, Joyce and Murray had been having some drama of their own in the basement.

“You did what?!”

By now, Murray had recounted every single part of his story and how he’d played a huge role — along with you — in how her son had ended up with Nancy Wheeler. Murray’s once upon a time had rendered her speechless.

Even Hopper — who’d heard them go downstairs and immediately followed when he heard Joyce start rocking the boat as she pressed Murray for information — now stood there beside Joyce, having just listened to everything – stunned.

Because when in the world did you all have time to fall in love, fall out of love then fall back in love / new love like this? How the fuck were you all managing that on top of the upside down mayhem?

“May I remind you both how you two lovebirds have spent the last few years developing your own slowburn of a story arc?”

Murray’s question was dripping in condescension. But it was valid. It also came from the heart. He loved these two humans to death. And they loved him back.

While Joyce felt an enormous amount of joy that her son had ended up with the girl he loved…her heart ached for Steve. She’d grown to love him like her own over the years, especially these last several months as she lived under his roof. She had no idea just how broken up he’d been about Nancy. Joyce couldn’t help but feel…almost guilty.

But Hopper was shaking his head with a sort of proud grin, noting how as much as Murray had been the one to rock the boat — you had been its captain at the wheel. He pointed out how you had steered that wheel without even trying.

“Were they even friends in high school?” Hopper asked curiously. “Harrington and Bauman — I can’t see your niece even having time for him back then when he was a punk.”

Murray went on to proudly confirm that assessment, along with explaining how you’d simply participated in your Uncle Murray’s meddling because you happened to be there that night and it’s just a sort of family tradition that you both had formed over the years. And when Joyce asked him how someone like you had not been swept up already by some guy, Murray had scoffed. He looked bitter — in the way that a protective parent is on behalf of their own kid.

“My niece deserves the world. Not one stupid guy at that high school could give her a mere city, let alone a globe’s worth. Doesn’t mean she didn’t…try. I know she was into one guy for a good while at one point. Some friend she’d made with one of the athletes who shared A.P. classes with her. She helped him study. Something she never did, unless it was with the girls and guys from her class that had weekly study group nights. But this kid she liked…he was smart, and he liked her back. She more than liked him…and he let her. Then, as all the petty high school boys do, he ditched her and all her efforts and hours spent studying and helping him pass his classes with flying colors…for a bimbo. A blonde, hip shaking, Pom-pom waving babydoll who’s all body, no brains.”

Joyce frowned. “Bauman is beautiful. She’s body, beauty and brains.”

“Yeah well,” Hopper mumbled, shaking his head disdainfully. “In high school, if you’ve got a dick, we’re letting it do the talking for us.”

“Point is,” Murray continued. “It hurt her. Big time. But that’s the thing about my niece. Given our Bauman blood, we don’t easily succumb to our sentimental feelings. We just let it broaden our dark comedic chops and cynical worldview. My niece doesn’t have mommy or daddy to run home to and cry. She’s an only child, so no siblings to help care for and bond with. Yeah, she’s got friends. But mainly at school. She’s got herself…and she’s got me.” Murray smiled at that. “Between me and her grandmother, we’ve been the ones that raise her. But to be perfectly honest, my niece pretty much raised herself.”

Hopper’s heart clenched. For both you and your uncle.

“She’s great, Mur,” Hopper murmured. “You’ve been there for her and it shows.”

Murray was quiet at that. He hated compliments. But he didn’t flinch or get snippy. He actually looked humbled, silently appreciating this observation.

Joyce sighed. “Murray…you really have been an incredible uncle to her. I know that I’ve…given you a hard time about things, but…really. You’ve never missed with her.”

Murray was still quiet. He looked everywhere but at his two best friends for several beats. Finally, he gave a curt nod. But it was grateful, and full of love. Mainly for you.

“That’s my kid.”

Murray’s voice cracked a bit. It was the most unusual sound in the barren basement of the Harrington house, bouncing off the walls despite its soft decimal in volume. The tight lipped grin on his face as he finally made eye contact with Joyce and Hopper said it all. He loved the shit outta you, like any good parent loves their kid.

“I didn’t get the white picket fence life. Or a lifelong love story with some gal. I got dealt a crazy family of addicts and narcissists and loons. Had a brother who married a gal from rehab, got her pregnant while they relapsed and went forward with having a kid that didn’t stand a damn chance at surviving it.”

Murray pursed his lips before he continued. “That’s the first goddamn miracle I’ve ever witnessed. That little fetus somehow made it, all of 5 pounds at 9 ounces. Ready to get the fuck out of the womb and live. It made for an early arrival and the risk of being premature, on top of being a crack baby.”

Murray’s eyes shone with a certain kind of fondness. It held both sadness and joy. And his voice was the gentlest it had ever been as he spoke about you.

“She didn’t have one thing wrong with her. Not one thing. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect brain activity. Not cursed from the drugs that coursed through her mother’s veins and doomed her life from the start. That kid’s been outsmarting everyone in her life since she was a seed.”

Joyce and Hopper couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Their eyes shone with Murray’s, having been parents themselves and unable to fathom being so reckless when bringing life into this world.

“I didn’t get my own kid,” Murray continued. He looked at Hopper. “I didn’t get a Sarah.” Then to Joyce, “Or a Jonathan, or Will. A kid who’s my own flesh and blood that I’d fight for to the bitter end.”

Murray stood there, resolute in what he was getting at. “But I got her. I got a niece who loves me. After she was born, I got my dad’s mom to take her in while I traveled and worked. She’s the only family member I’ve bothered keeping in touch with. She’s an odd one. But she had a home and money and willingness to take in a stray. She never thought she’d ever get a granddaughter. Don’t even think she really wanted one much till she was handed one to take in. Between the two of us, we raised her. She got thrown at whoever would take her and that was fine with me. Meant she still had a damn shot at a life. That’s what we gave her. The rest? She’s done herself.”

Murray sniffed. Then, smirking at himself —

“I’d like to think my being an unorthodox parental figure of sorts is why she’s built for the war.”

Hopper grinned at that, swallowing back tears of his own. He squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Yeah, she is. Kid could survive the damn streets of New York on her own.”

Murray laughed at that, and so did Joyce — she finally shook her head and wiped away a couple motherly tears. She took a deep breath, looking up and shifting gears with the topic.

“You know,” she started. “Call me a hopeless romantic… But I’m pretty sure that Steve Harrington has hopelessly fallen for your niece.”

Hopper snorted. “God, I haven’t ever liked the idea of two youngins together the way I like them.”

Murray grinned big. “Yeah that’s a plot twist even I wasn’t expecting.”

The cynical gent’s expression suddenly went from warm to grave. “…don’t ever repeat that.”

The adults all shared a heart laugh at that, making their own comments on how the two mortal enemies turned out to be lovers. Hopper cringed at the word, along with Murray — and Joyce gave your uncle hell for that, given he’s the self-acclaimed mastermind at love.

“My witch doctor hours are limited when it comes to my niece’s love life,” he argued, but it was all with humor and fondness. “I already orchestrated the basics.”

“Which were…?”

“Calling her out.”

Joyce smiled. “What do you think of them?”

Murray’s expression softened. He contemplated that for several sincere moments.

“Surprises me to say it…but I think she’s got someone who loves her fully. Will love her fully. There’s actual years there, backing them up. Years of real life shit. Abnormal shit. Valid tension, deeply rooted hatred that turned out to be love. She saw Harrington for who he was, and sees him for who he is. I mean — Jesus, she was there for all of it. Steve Harrington’s redemption arc was witnessed by her just as much as those kids that he’s taken on as a babysitter. Well, and the Robin girl. But that’s…not the same thing as what he’s got with my niece. No threat there.”

Hopper’s eyes narrowed at that, curious. But Joyce gave Murray an all-knowing grin, knowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t think she’s on the same field,” she winked.

Murray winked back. “Exactly.”

Hopper blinked. “…alright, you guys lost me.”

Joyce waved him off, continuing. “So you like him with her. Maybe even…approve?”

Murray slowly nodded. “Didn’t think there’d be a guy who stood a chance at that. But given the whole…letting us all stay here and saving her life thing…yeah. I’d say I’m very good with those two being together.”

Joyce nudged him with her elbow. “Maybe you should tell him that. Y’know…given you’re at fault for ‘ruining his life,’ too.”

Murray rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, those two never stood a chance with your broody son standing in the way of that.”

“Yeah well…that broody son of mine isn’t making much sense right now,” Joyce shook her head. She sighed, worried. Hopper stroked her back. “I need to talk to him.”

“Lover’s quarrel,” Murray pointed out. “Best let that be up to him and Wheeler.”

“Yeahhh, well,” Hopper sighed. “Emotions are high right now. Maybe a little adult intervention would be good for them.”

Murray patted them both on the shoulders, back to his usual self. “WELP! You two have a large time with that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a date with a second drink calling my name.”

***

You watched Steve sleep on top of your chest, thinking about the words he’d spoken to you before dozing off.

“What about France? Or Switzerland, somewhere with a bunch of acres and nature and a lake nearby or something?”

You’d smiled at Steve’s question. “How would we get the Winnebago over there?”

He’d stared at you for a moment, eyes sparkling as your words landed. A deep grin formed on his face.

“You really liked my little dream on wheels, huh?”

You grinned back. “Yeah. It’s not little. It’s big.”

He shrugged sweetly. “I mean, it’s not a mansion. Or a house. It’s a home on wheels. Honestly, a really small home on wheels, but…I dunno, I just — wanna travel. With my family. Not leave them behind at some big house while I go off and explore god knows where without ‘em.”

You played with his fingers, listening to his every word. He wasn’t used to this. Having someone who was happy to just…listen to him ramble. Was he even one to ramble at all? Or is that something you just brought out in him?

“I just dream of this…this little life of sorts,” he continued, speaking to you and also to himself.

You smiled at his words. “I think I like this little life.”

Steve could sing at your response. Something about that one sentence after he’d just further divulged into what a bright future looked like in his mind made him feel on top of the world. The lovesick joy in his eyes, and in his heart, made you melt.

“I only want that little life with you,” he whispered to you, cupping your neck as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. You loved when he did that. Too much, way too much.

You nuzzled your nose to his. Steve loved when you did that. Too much, way too much.

“And the nuggets,” you whispered back with the cutest grin. Then, daring to say it — “Our nuggets…”

Steve’s heart soared at that. Ours…

The happy little laugh Steve breathed against you was the prettiest sound in the entire fucking universe. He caught your lips in a kiss, sweet and soft and firm.

“Your heart needs to get its shit together,” he breathed before kissing you again.

“I know, I know,” you breathed back with that playful attitude he had come to love, gliding your lips against his. “Such a pain in the ass. I know you wanna rail me, Harrington.”

He deepened the kissing, his fingers sliding up from your neck into your hair. “Yeah, god forbid I actually just want you to be okay. I only wanna fuck you senseless.”

You sighed into his mouth, clutching his hips with one of your hands and a fistful of his shirt with the other. “Yeah, you dirty, filthy asshole…”

He sucked on your tongue, cutting you off. “Be nice, princess.”

The two of you had eventually pulled back, knowing that you needed to wait on Dr. Owen’s to bring you whatever goddamn medicine was supposed to help even out your heart arrhythmia. Steve had moved in your arms to rest his head over your heart, cheek pressed to your chest with your heartbeat in his eardrum. You could feel him shaking. So, you made up a little tune as you felt fatigue taking over you.

“I think I like this little life…

This little life…

I think I like this little life…

This silly little life.”

You could tell it made Steve smile as he held you closer. He murmured something sweet to you about liking the improvised melody, to which you murmured something back about it becoming a hit one day. Steve let your soft spoken singing play in his mind, giving him the sweetest of dreams as your voice trailed off.

And now, you were awake — humming it again. Steve was still fast asleep on your chest, which brought you tremendous relief. You dared to think it might be the only medicine your heart really needed.

There was a soft knock at the door. You craned your neck towards the source of the sound, curious. Steve didn’t move a bit. He was out. It made you grin. You sighed lightly, planting a soft kiss on top of Steve’s perfect hair. Slowly, gently — you found a way of standing up without waking him. Little did you know, the sleep he found in your arms couldn’t be bothered easily. He slept harder with you than he ever had in his life.

You padded over quietly to the door, opening it slowly and only enough to show you. Your uneven heart was flooded with warmth as you stared back at 5 familiar faces.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will and Eleven all stood there. They held random things. Board games, snacks, and pillows with blankets.

“We are inviting ourselves for a sleepover,” El said.

“A very unexciting one,” Lucas clarified.

“Yes, no excitement,” Dustin agreed.

“Just some good ole fashioned card games that don’t hit pique anxiety,” Mike added.

“Annnnd drawing,” Will threw in, lifting his bag. “Art is always therapeutic. Good for the soul. And the heart.”

You felt yourself getting teared up, looking at their faces with pure love and joy. You chuckled wetly, your chest clenching as you so sorely wished that the sixth nugget was awake to add her sarcasm and unwavering love to the mix.

“Plus it really sucks about the mandate coming soon,” Lucas added sadly.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Before we know it, we’ll all be cramped downstairs in the basement or out there in the middle of nowhere.”

You gave them a sad smile.

“A not-exciting sleepover sounds like a grand plan,” you nodded with a wink. Then, cocking an eyebrow, “So I’m hosting then, huh?”

“Yeah, your room’s bigger than ours,” Dustin said.

“True,” you winked. “Orrrr, we could go over to Max’s room and have her join us?”

All of them nodded excitedly. You smiled, turning back to look at Steve sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“Gimme a few minutes to wake up mom and tell him that Max needs some attending to first, so that we can successfully host a sleepover in her room.”

They all quietly cheered, carefully moving to set down their array of stuff inside of your room. They caught sight of Steve sleeping, snickering to themselves like they were all 8 years old again. You shook your head at them with the biggest grin on your face, adoring how Lucas and Dustin were just so tickled with Steve being in your room. Will and El were giggling into their palms, with Mike shushing them but snorting himself. That made everyone fight back even worse laughter, and you ushered them out quickly before closing the door behind you. Man, you loved these kids so much.

You went into the bathroom, freshening up a bit and turning on the shower to let some hot steam hit your aching shoulder for a bit.

he sound of Steve murmuring your name made you hold off on that.

You walked out, beaming at him as he stared in your direction while sitting up. You were back in his arms in seconds, mumbling into his neck.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Jesus, how long was I out?”

“A good chunk of hours.”

Steve groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him — still mindful of your bad shoulder. You giggled in his grasp. His ears perked up, craning his head up towards the bathroom door as he heard the stream of water running.

“How dare you think of showering without me?” he scoffs incredulously in your arms.

You continued giggling harder as Steve nuzzled his face into your neck, pretending to attack you as he smothered you with groggy affection.

“Just needed to relieve my handicap a bit,” you sighed contentedly.

With that, Steve rose to stand. He was scooping you up into his arms before you could blink, carrying you into the bathroom. He lifted your shirt off, then his. As you stripped your pants, be took the hair tie from your wrist and ran his fingers through your locks, tying it up with ease. With a kiss pressed to your neck, he took your hand and escorted you into the hot stream of water. You watched Steve wistfully as he shed his pants and joined you.

As Steve gingerly massaged the soap into your shoulder blade, you remembered you needed to tell him about the plans that had been made for you both that evening.

“Baby?”

He hummed in response, loving when you called him that.

“The kids have the evening cut out for us tonight,” you started.

Even with your back to him, you knew his eyebrows were raised. “Oh yeah? What, am I making some crazy dinner feast out of canned goods now?”

You sniffed a laugh, turning to kiss his jaw. “No, we’re on for a sleepover in Max’s room.”

“S’that so?” he mulled, a grin in his voice.

“‘Tis so. That, or in here. But I don’t know if we can move her. Plus, I really want her to hear us all talking as much as possible.”

He exhaled, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Alright well, I’ll need to go ahead and get her taken care of before we all take over the room.”

“Sounds good,” you sighed contentedly.

You both finished up, and as you got changed into fresh comfy clothes Steve was eyeing the pile of stuff that the kids had unloaded into your bedroom.

“Damn, they just decided to dump the haul here?” he asked.

You snorted. “Yeahhh, they like to make themselves at home here.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind them said it all. He loved it.

Noticing you struggle with your shirt, he quickly moved to help you pull it over your bad shoulder carefully.

“Need to get better at asking for help, angel,” he winked at you, pulling your arm carefully through the sleeve.

You blushed at that, playfully rolling your eyes. “Noted.”

Steve shook his head as he made sure that your shirt was straight, lost in thought for a moment. “Guess we all won’t be able to hang out up here soon,” he murmured. “Outside of the basement.”

Your heart sank, knowing he was referring to the impending doom that loomed around the corner with the whole mandate going into effect next week. “Yeah,” you mused. “Might as well make the most of tonight with them before we have to go back to doomsday mode.”

He nodded sadly, planting a kiss to your hair before grabbing your discarded clothes along with his to start a fresh load of laundry.

“I’m gonna go start a load,” he said. “Check with Hopper on when Dr. Owen’s is getting back here with your meds.”

You sighed. “Yeah, those…”

Steve looked at you solemnly. “Hey.”

You gnawed at your lip, looking up at him.

“You will be okay,” he told you. His tone was firm yet soft. Confident, despite the worried undertone laced around his voice.

You gave him a light smile and nod.

“I’m serious, Bauman,” Steve continued, his brown eyes boring into yours. “We’re getting you on these meds and if they don’t work, then we…do the next thing that does.”

You knew he was stressed. Too stressed. You hated seeing just how fearful he’d been when he lost you before, and how much the fear of losing you again was eating away at him. Of course, Steve being Steve, he now insisted it would be fine. He’d broken down in front of you when it all happened, unable to stop it. Normally, he’d never let that happen. But given the dark reality of things, and just how much everything else had caught up to him, he wasn’t able to be his usual positive, nonchalant self with you over the last 24 hours.

With a mischievous look in your eye, you patted your chest. You gave it a little knocking rhythm, beatboxing under your breath so that he’d laugh. After a moment of Steve glaring at you, the corner of his lips finally twitched up into a grin. He tried to hide it, but you’d already seen it before he could turn away.

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” you told him. “I’m not even close to being done bothering you.”

He turned to look back at you longingly, a smile ghosting behind the way he bit his lip. He nodded.

“Don’t think that ever really had an expiration date, did it?” he asks, teasing you in his husky voice that you loved whenever he was getting coy with you.

You smirked. “Never.”

He took a moment to soak you in with his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I’m keeping it that way.”

You knew what he meant. Don’t you dare fucking leave me again.

And you had every intention of keeping your word. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.

Steve intended to keep you forever.

“Now,” you said, moving towards him. “Let’s go have a big ole sleepover with these six nuggets so that we can stop the end of the world and have another six later on down the road, yeah?”

Steve glowed. He stuttered a bit, unable to breathe. “Y-you really want that? S-six of ‘em…?”

You shook your head, smiling up at him as you stood toe to toe. “Hell yeah, I want that.”

You kissed his jaw. Then, moving to scoop up a bag of the kids snacks — “That’s more buckets of Halloween candy for us down the line.”

Steve smiled and blushed unabashedly, shaking his head with the happiest eye roll you’d ever seen.

“So we’re gonna be that family, huh?” he asked, moving to grab a sour gummy from the bag you’d just opened.

“We will win every costume contest, Harrington,” you said seriously, that signature dry humor of yours coursing through your Bauman blood at full speed. “I’m very competitive. Don't worry, the kids will be too busy having a great time to know that their mom is secretly a little psycho.”

Steve tugged at the gummy worm between his teeth with the most mischievous, flirty glint in his eye. You could smell his perfect skin mixed with the scent of the raspberry candy. “Ahh, so you are mom. Thought I was mom.”

You leaned up on your toes, inching your lips towards his where he still dangled the gummy worm. “In this era? You’re mom. I’m dad. Next one, I’ll be Mommy.”

You bit at the end of the gummy worm, going full lady and the tramp with it like a loose spaghetti noodle. Steve’s lips and teeth stretched into a wide grin, eyes swimming in sex and lust as they looked down at you. You both bit and sucked the gummy worm till your teeth and tongues met. In the lowest, sexiest of husky tones, Steve told you…

“Well in this one? I’m daddy.”

His tongue lapped your mouth, tasting like sugar sweet candy. “Your daddy.”

Before you could completely dissolve into a hot mess of a puddle, familiar voices from the other side of the door sounded off.

“EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

“STEEEEEEVE!”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god —”

The sound of all your kids gagging and losing their shit were making for an orchestra of triggered teens, and you both jumped at the noise. After gasping, Steve threw his head back and huffed incredulously.

“Seriously??” he snapped.

You buried your face in your hands, unable to keep yourself from laughing in pure humiliation — but also in adoration.

“You shitheads are listening in, seriously — Jesus.”

Steve huffed and puffed, but it was clear as day he loved it. You did, too. He moved to open it while you stood back, snickering into your palms with flaming hot flushed cheeks.

“Hello,” he said, voice flat.

“You’re disgusting,” Dustin scoffed.

“And you’re an eavesdropping ass hat.”

“Why do you smell like gummy worms?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“Because you left them in my room, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.

“Yeah, for tonight!!! For all of us!” Lucas scolded.

“Well Sinclair? Maybe don’t leave your candy unattended in my room.”

“It’s Bauman’s room!” Mike said.

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right yeah, well. My house, but yeah.”

“Lord, I can’t unhear this,” Will grimaced, but even he was grinning.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it at all,” Steve pointed out defensively.

“If you’re gonna fuck around, you’re gonna find out.”

Eddie’s sing-songy voice was new to the mix as he walked past them all, carrying a bunch of things as he made his way downstairs. “Howdy folks, don’t mind me.”

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at him as he looked back at his kids. “That. What he said.”

El looked at everyone curiously. “What does being daddy mean if Steve is that for Bauman —”

Everyone cut her off with sounds of disdain.

“Noooope! Nope, nope nope nope.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“La la la la la la la la not talking about this la la la la.”

“Alright, enough,” Mama Steve silenced the kiddos. “Move along.”

“No, we’ve been waiting for 30 minutes,” Mike griped.

“It’s okay,” came your voice as you emerged from the room, standing next to Steve. “Why don’t you kids come on inside while Steve gets Max’s room ready?”

They all took you up on that offer, shuffling past you both and making their way inside. Steve shook his head as you grinned, pinching his side.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be grown up and outta the house before you know it.”

You winked at him before making your way into the room with them. Steve watched you fondly, hands on his hips in true Mom Steve Harrington fashion. He had that signature sexy-sassy look on his face that everyone had come to love over the years — you especially. Despite being annoyed, Steve felt his heart fill to the brim as he watched the kids scatter the bags of candy and show you the card game selections. You were hugging El closely while Dustin pointed out that he had plenty more candy hidden in his backpack. Will was telling you about his newest art collection ideas, and you excitedly listened to him while Mike and Lucas bickered about which games were better for everyone.

“Steve, you’re joining us, right?” Dustin asked.

Steve scrunched his face in confusion, doubling back with his shoulders. “Yeah, wasn’t that already happening?”

Dustin shrugged. “Just making sure you’re not gonna be lame.”

Steve shook his head. You looked over at him as you smiled.

“F’course he’s joining,” you winked. “It’s not a party without mom.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at you playfully, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle.

He felt more at home in his own house than he ever had in 19 years.

__________________________

Jonathan watched Steve make his way into Max’s room, knee bouncing.

He was seated in the living room, next to Joyce. She’d cornered him earlier, after watching Nancy move to sit on the porch alone and stare at nothing as she sat on the steps. Robin had moved to join her eventually, giving her company and offering to lend an ear.

That sprang Joyce into action, and she found Jonathan standing outside of Argyle’s room with Will. She’d found them both talking, happy to see her boys were in deep conversation and bonding. She could tell they’d been doing that for a little while now, and when they both looked up at her the three Byers all shared warm, solemn smiles. The boys looked a bit sheepish. Mostly the oldest.

Jonathan knew his mom wasn’t gonna let him off the hook. And if he was being honest, a good honest talk with his mother about something not having to do with the upside down was something he’d needed for a long time.

So they talked. Joyce listened while Jonathan spoke, and he listened while she responded. It was the perfect blend of expressed empathy, disappointment and motherly advice shared on her end. He admitted to the fight with Steve in the alleyway, back when Will was missing. And he admitted to making a move on Nancy while she was still in a relationship with Steve. She brought up Murray telling her about him getting drunk at the Henderson’s house, 2 years back…and he shamefully ducked his head as he wrung his hands. But Joyce just rubbed his back, reminding him she wasn’t here to berate him and only to talk through things the way they always have: as mother and son.

“You know, Jonathan…” Joyce spoke softly, her heart heavy. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything that you did in helping me find Will.”

Jonathan did a double take, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about, of course you did —”

“No,” Joyce shook her head. “No, we talked about it, sure. I verbally thanked you.”

“Many times, mom,” Jonathan assured her.

“Just listen,” she cut him off gently, clutching his hand. “I lost a son…but you’d lost a brother. We both lost him. Twice. God, twice… and each time was a brand new hell. We didn’t even have time to process the first round.”

Jonathan chuckled darkly. “Would we ever have processed that? I mean really…”

Joyce grinned at that. “Psh, yeah. Doubt it.” Looking back at him with a softened expression, she continued. “Point is…in the midst of all that stress, and searching, and worrying…you were still going through so much. Not just with Will missing…but everything else, too.”

Jonathan listened to his mother as she looked deeply into his eyes, clutching both his hands. She went on to tell her eldest son every validating thing a mother could tell her child. She recounted every single thing that Jonathan had been dealing with outside of Will going missing, and it hurt her to relive it all just as much as it hurt Jonathan to hear it all over again. When Joyce got to the part where she’d had to make them all move, Jonathan’s eyes watered up.

“You and Nancy were just beginning to dive into things deeply,” she was saying. “Really, you’d both gone through so much together and finally you both got to just…start being a couple, and then it all went wrong again, so that — that forced you both back into the upside down bullshit…”

“Mom,” Jonathan said, a bit shocked.

“I’m serious,” Joyce said back, eyes fierce and full of love. “Jonathan, you’ve had to be an adult since you were just a kid. Since you were Will’s age. And then you finally get into a relationship with a beautiful girl, and immediately you’re thrown into war. Not even able to enjoy your teens going into adulthood. Even Nancy, she…she’s been through so much with you. And now…”

Joyce’s voice trailed off. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She re-centered, turning back to her son.

“I love you,” she told him, eyes full of love. “So much, you just don’t know. You are just…a good person. And the fact you feel overcome with guilt as though you’re not —“

“I haven’t been a good person, mom,” Jonathan murmured, voice wobbly.

“Jonathan,” Joyce whispered, squeezing his hands. “Just because you’ve not acted right in certain ways…that does not make you a bad person. Do you understand that? Because if not — then whoever’s telling you that…whether it’s someone you love, or a stranger, or yourself…stop listening. Seek within. Listen to your heart, because it’s never going to steer you wrong. And no, that’s not just some dumb cliche saying, it’s true. Your mind will confuse you, and your soul will get shaken. But your heart? It will always lead you back.”

Jonathan’s lip trembled, and Joyce held him tight as he shook him her arms. He clung to his mother, overwhelmed.

“I’m afraid I’ll never say enough, mom,” he wept into her shoulder. “To Steve, or to Nancy… I’m actually more sure about what I need to say to him instead of her.”

Joyce chuckled early, squeezing him tighter. “Aw, baby… Don’t overthink. Say whatever is going to give your heart peace. You’ll regret anything you never said far more than anything that you did.”

***

“Trust me kid, I’m in the doghouse now for the hell I raised on the phone with him.”

Hopper stood in front of Steve, along with Murray. They’d just spoken with Dr. Owens on the phone, who’d told Murray that he wouldn’t be able to bring them the medication until tomorrow morning. Murray had managed to remain calmer than Hopper, to both their surprise. Now, they stood in the kitchen with Steve – filling him in.

Steve took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling just as deeply out his mouth like a puff of air he’d been holding while running a hand through his hair. Murray looked at him with a somber, empathic expression.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not just as furious about it,” Murray pointed out. “But given the whole…having a target on his back thing…I’m trying to have some sort of grace about it, mostly for her sake. And yours.”

That made Steve look over at him gratefully. He couldn’t imagine the stress your uncle was experiencing, knowing your heart — literally — was on the line.

“Says he’ll be here with it as early as he can be,” Murray added. “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Which is the most.” His lips turned upwards at one of the corners. “The most, and then some.”

Steve allowed himself to give your uncle a sad smile back, appreciating being seen by him. He’s all that you had as far as family goes. With a nod, Steve let that news settle into his brain. He reached out to shake Murray’s hand, who shook it back firmly and dared to pat his shoulder. Physical affection was so not his thing. But he’d make an effort for the guy his niece was in love with, and who not only saved her life — but was still doing everything he could to keep it intact.

“Kids sleepover, huh?”

Hopper changed the subject, grinning at Harrington — who chuckled lightly.

“You guys know about this?”

Hopper shrugged. “We might’ve told them to allow themselves some fun for one night, before we all go into lockdown…” His expression turned grim, a thought pushing its way to the forefront of his brain. “And whatever plan needs to go into action.”

Steve knew what he meant. Getting back out there. He swallowed hard, giving him a quick nod. No one was ready for this. But were they ever really “ready” for any of this?

Murray and Hopper told Steve to not give any thought whatsoever to anything relating to doomsday until the next morning. They insisted that they just take the focus on laughing and soaking up the night with you and the kids. Steve was surprised at how certain they both were about it, but despite it being out of character for them in an endearing way…it scared him. It meant that they knew just how much everyone here was at risk. It made a sharp chill run up Steve’s spine.

Eventually, Steve had made his way up to Max’s room. He was sorting through it, making room for you all to camp out there. El had already turned her little cot bed into a floor couch of sorts, which made Steve grin.

He talked to Max out loud as he checked her vitals. Lucas already had, along with Joyce and Hopper. Still, he always wanted to make sure.

“Not sure if this is gonna be one of those nights where I’ve gotta make Dustin cut the attitude during games,” Steve was telling her with a smirk as he straightened her pillows. “Honestly, it’s probably an excuse for Mike and El to be able to cuddle at night. So I’ll likely be chaperoning the entire night. Good thing I got mad good sleep with Bauman today.”

Steve moved to close the curtains, watching the sun begin to set behind the trees in the distance. It looked dull, given all the debris and toxic air.

“You know what’s crazy?” he asked her. “Ever since I started sleeping with her — like actually sleeping, head outta the gutter Max — it’s…I haven’t had a single nightmare. I always have those.”

He moved to discard some of the kids’ loose candy wrapped and one of Dustin’s empty pudding containers, glancing over at her sleeping form.

“Seriously, it’s weird. It’s like she just…makes them all disappear.” Steve scoffed a laugh at that. “Who’d have thought… She’s been a nightmare to me, and now I can’t…can’t even stand to think back on the times I never saw her like I do now.”

Steve looked around the room, seeing it was good for the night. It would be a tight squeeze — but having shuffled Max’s bed over enough so that they all had room to play games and draw on the floor with snacks, it would do. He sighed, taking a second to sit on the edge of the bed near her feet.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” he murmured. “Tonight. Hearing all our voices at once. Arguing and bickering and laughing the way you all do together.”

Steve poked her knee. “Think that’ll kick start you again, red? Wake you back up so that you can give us all shit?”

Her silence isn’t as long as he expects it to be whenever he hears a knock. Steve looks over to the open doorway, finding Jonathan standing there. He looks…wary. Rough, and timid. Standing awkwardly with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, he shoots Steve a very quick, uncomfortable right-lipped grin.

“Hey.”

Steve blinks. “Hey.”

Jonathan rocks on his feet for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

Steve blinks again, but eventually nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah.”

Jonathan moves to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. Steve would laugh at the fact that this is Byers’ way of “coming in,” if it weren’t for the fact that he was so clearly nervous about something. Steve had a few guesses as to why he was here. He knew this had been coming, and he wishes he’d been the one to initiate it. Because they really needed to talk.

They’d needed to talk for 3 years.

“Look, Byers,” Steve started after waiting for what felt like a century for Jonathan to say something. “I owe you an apology…”

“No,” Jonathan cut him off.

It made Steve look at him in surprise. But Jonathan continued before he could say anything else.

“No, it’s me who owes you an apology.”

Steve stared. “…what?”

Jonathan sighed, scratching his neck and praying the words could find him as he finally dove into what he needed to let off his chest.

“Look I’m not good at this,” Jonathan said. “Talking, I mean. You know I’m weird.”

He gnawed at his lip, pensive and twitchy. He looked down at his feet a lot, feeling tense under Harrington’s gaze. But he sucked in a deep breath, going for it.

“Back in 1982, you had every right to break my camera.”

Steve froze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. I shouldn’t have been spying on you guys like that. ‘Cause even though I was looking for my brother, it…it turned into me just…following the sound of you all partying and watching from afar. So I mean, technically…” Jonathan chuckled under his breath darkly. “Technically, I was being a stalker.”

He looked up at Steve finally, finding him looking at him in pure shock.

“You were dating Nancy,” Jonathan continued. “And I took…really inappropriate pictures of her. In a moment when you both were having…or well, thought you were having a private moment together. That wasn’t alright. And if…if someone had done that to me and my girlfriend, I would’ve…probably done the same thing. And honestly, you getting mad at me in the alleyway that morning —”

“Dude, no,” Steve shook his head. “Don’t take the blame for that. That was all me. It was shitty, what I did to Nancy. And what I said to you.”

“Yeah it was, but you found me in your girlfriend’s room, Steve,” Jonathan told him. “I was in there with her, in her bed, sleeping next to her when she told you that she was with her family. It looked…fucked up.”

Steve was just staring again. How in the hell was this happening right now? And why had he himself never made it happen sooner?

“So you chewed me out,” Jonathan shrugged. “And no, you shouldn’t have publicly humiliated Nancy like that at all…”

“I kick myself for it every day,” Steve murmured. “Trust me…”

“I know,” Jonathan told him, voice softer. “I know that now. I’ve…known you have for a long time. Nancy told me. I know you apologized over and over.” He took a moment, going back. “But what you said to me was just…your way of saying fuck you. You felt used, tricked and stupid. After you’d protected Nancy from a guy who’d proven himself to be a creepy stalker, and it looked like she slept with him. So you lashed out. Like any teen guy would.”

“I called you a queer,” Steve says incredulously, cringing at the memory. “I even went as far as saying you were the reason for Will going missing, along with your mom. It was low, Jonathan. What I said and did was just — flat out low. No excuses. None. I’m the one in the wrong.”

“Steve, we both were.”

Jonathan’s voice finally finds confidence. It makes Steve look at him in another light, as if he’s truly seeing Byers for the strong-willed young man that he is. It occurs to him now that maybe Jonathan has been going through some soul searching of his own, just as he had over the last few years. Clearly, he still was. Both of them were.

“We were barely 17 years old, and stupid,” Jonathan kept going. “We — we didn’t know how the hell to deal with anything. Much less a missing kid, or a guy related to that kid who’d taken creepy photos. We both were idiots.”

Steve let that land. And it actually made him laugh, sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I guess we were.”

Jonathan laughed too. It was still tense, a bit awkward. But it was becoming lighter. For both of them.

“Shit, Byers,” Steve shook his head. “Have we both been feeling awful about this for years and just… not saying something about it until now?”

Jonathan sighed. “Sounds like it.”

They were both quiet for a moment, letting this newfound revelation settle into existence.

“Thanks for the new camera, by the way,” Jonathan added. “I know that was you.”

Steve looked back up at him, finding kindness and sincere gratitude in Jonathan’s eyes. It made him feel shy. Worse, yet better at the same time.

“Least I could do,” Steve shrugged.

Jonathan sniffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… You didn’t take the credit for it. You let Nancy do that.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, brow pinching as he shifted against the wall and stared down at his feet again. Steve waited as he watched him curiously.

“You extended way more kindness to me than I did you,” Jonathan said softly. So softly, it made Steve wonder if it was actually what he said.

“I shouldn’t have pined after Nancy,” Jonathan said. “I should’ve asked her out. Like actually asked her out, while she was single again. Before you two got back together.”

Steve felt his stomach jump. This was…a lot. So much was being covered right now in this conversation.

“But instead, I just sulked and pretended I still wasn’t in her thoughts at all. Even though I knew that…that she liked me. But I also knew that she liked you. So I just… I convinced myself it wasn’t ever gonna happen. Because that was safer. And hating you made it easier to do that.”

Jonathan looked ashamed of everything that he was saying now, but certain about it. Steve just listened, not daring to interrupt him.

“I might not have cheated with Nancy the first time you both dated…but I did the second time. And that’s not… that’s not right.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath. “But I was a coward. Maybe not when it came to the upside down and finding Will, but up here? In regular real life? I am. I’m a coward. I don’t say whatever it is that I’m actually feeling or thinking, or wanna say. I just…wait for circumstances to make it happen for me. You don’t do that. You just…go for it.”

Steve scoffed. “Trust me, I’m…I’ve been a coward for years. In many ways, many times, for many reasons.”

“Yeah, well…you still didn’t steal someone else’s girlfriend instead of actually making a move. And I’m really…really sorry about that, Steve. I’m sorry I swooped in like that, and then…drunkenly bragged about it to Bauman Squared while you were in earshot. It made you take it out on her, when she didn’t deserve that. I did. All she did was call me out on it with Murray. They both had no idea it would turn into this.”

That made Steve squirm. He thought about how he’d been pining after Nancy still, even when she was with Jonathan. He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to let that off his chest too.

“Look,” Steve started warily. “Honestly, I really appreciate everything you’re saying. And really — apology accepted. Completely.”

Jonathan could tell that Steve meant it, and he visibly relaxed some once he let that settle into his bones. He released a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

Meanwhile, Steve was holding his own.

“And you’re right,” Steve continued. “What I did to Bauman? Taking it out on her like that was…well it was projection. Cowardly projection. Instead of taking it out on you and Nancy, I took it out on someone else. Because that was easier. Because it meant that I still got to be the unsung hero in Nancy’s life, and a bigger person than you.”

Jonathan stared at him now, surprised to hear this. He wasn’t expecting his confessed guilt to lead to Steve admitting guilt of his own.

“I’ll probably be telling Bauman I’m sorry for as long as I live,” Steve continued, voice solemn. Honestly I feel…shitty beyond belief, knowing that I could’ve been kinder to her all this time…maybe even spared myself way more heartbreak...if I’d just gotten mad at you guys instead of her. Because then, I might’ve gotten close with her and discovered feelings for her before this all went down.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan pondered, nodding. “Then again… I don’t think you’d have fallen for her nearly as hard if it hadn’t been for you giving her shit for it.”

They both awkwardly chuckle at that. But it makes them both sad to think about it. How you’d taken the brunt of it all.

“Fuck, she didn’t deserve that,” Jonathan huffs. “And I’m — I’m the one who caused it.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad and dark as they swam in regret. “No, that was all me. I was an asshole. And truthfully, I was still so hung up on Nance that I didn’t know how to even remotely look at another girl. Let alone one I convinced myself was responsible for taking that away from me, knowing damn well that it wasn’t. Nance wanted you, and you wanted her. Plain and simple.”

Jonathan looked ashamed all over again, but Steve held up a hand.

“Trust me,” Steve assured him. “She wasn’t mine to keep. I get that now.”

Jonathan slowly smiled at that. “You love her, don’t you?”

Steve knew who he meant. You.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Yeah, I…don’t even know what to do with it.”

Steve stared into thin air, lost in thought. Jonathan didn’t push him, just watching him and waiting for him to go on.

“I just…look back on it all and wonder how. How did I not see her in high school, or…see during the summer of ‘84 that she was clearly perfect?”

“It takes time,” Jonathan said softly. “Shit doesn’t always hit you right away. I know that better than you’d think.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah no, you’re not wrong. I just… I dunno. I guess I’m just…”

He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.

“I was still hung up on Nance while you were in California,” he continued, making eye contact with Jonathan again. “So much so that…I told her I was. And I’d…hoped to get her back. I wanted to steal her back from you.”

Jonathan sighed, giving him a small smile.

“I know,” he said. “She told me.”

Steve stared. Oh.

“Believe it or not,” Jonathan continued. “I’m not…mad about that at all.”

Steve blinked. “…why…?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Steve, I actually stole your girlfriend. I had it coming.”

After several more blinks, Steve coughed out a laugh. Was he serious? As Jonathan laughed with him, he realized that he truly meant it. He wasn’t mad.

“Sorry man, but I won that round,” Jonathan chuckled.

“Fair,” Steve chuckled back. “Good game, man.”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “Yeahhh, good game…”

They took a few moments of silence, letting the tension wear off some more. It was…nice. This weird sort of talk was nice.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Steve continued. “I’m sorry, too. For going after Nance again, and not just… facing you both sooner.”

“S'alright,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve honestly been a really shitty boyfriend these last several months.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Long story,” Jonathan waved a hand. “That’s my own wrong that I gotta make right with Nancy.”

Steve contemplated that. Had whatever was going south between Jonathan and Nancy, unbeknownst to him, been the reason she’d seemed to be interested in him again? Or was that just the tipping point for her, and her buried lingering feelings for Steve?

Regardless, it didn’t matter now. Steve was so in love with you, he couldn’t see straight. But it did make him wonder.

“And honestly, I don’t blame you,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Nancy, she’s…perfect.”

Steve smiled at him. “She’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed. “I’ll always adore her. But…”

“…but you found your person,” Jonathan finished for him. “Your ‘perfect’ person.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. She makes everything make sense for me, and I just…god, I love her.”

Jonathan nodded, still smiling. “I know how you feel.”

Steve fiddled his thumbs in his lap, staring down at them and feeling his stomach knot up. There was another thing he needed to own up to…

“Jonathan, what I said to you…” Steve murmured, eyes still downcast. “Yesterday, back at the fence…when Bauman…” Steve winced, skipping that part. “...it wasn’t at all —”

“I deserved it.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that, will you let me feel bad for at least one thing I’m saying?”

“No, and especially not this one.”

Steve sighed, perplexed. “…and why is that?”

“Because I deserved it.”

Jonathan watched as Steve just gaped at him, biting back amusement. He let the sincerity of the serious topic ground him again.

“You all searched and fought relentlessly for me and my mom when this all started,” Jonathan went on to say.

“...I so did not do anything from the start.”

“Maybe you don’t think you did? But you did.”

“…I so did not.”

“You got there. And besides…like we both said earlier…lots of misdirected projection. And lots of long overdue confrontation. On both our parts.”

Steve couldn’t argue that. Byers was right, at least in this case.

“You were still mad at me,” Jonathan continued, “and I was just mad at myself but convinced that everything and everyone else — you included — were the problem. Not me.”

Jonathan gnawed at his lip for several moments, clearing his throat. “You basically unleashed years of deeply buried resentment onto me in one foul swoop. I gotta say, your words…shit hit me hard.”

Steve frowned, ducking his head a bit. “I honestly don’t even remember some of it. I just…saw red.”

Jonathan snorted. “Blind rage will do that. Shit, I don’t even remember swinging on you back in ‘82. Apparently, I did a pretty nasty job.”

“I was positive you’d done permanent damage to my nose.”

“Yeah, and then you took an even worse beating from that Hargrove kid and the Russians,” Jonathan said, nose scrunched with a laugh. Steve laughed, too. They had to laugh about it all at this point.

“Christ, man,” Steve groaned. “It’s a wonder my face isn’t the prime subject for plastic surgery…”

Jonathan shrugged. “And you wonder why we all hate you so much. You’ve gotten your ass beat so many times, and still look good.”

Steve smirked. “Thanks.”

Jonathan winked. “I’m sure Bauman Squared digs it. All the battle wounds.”

That actually made Steve blush. “Psh. Compared to the fall she took? My experiences look like a walk in the park.”

“So Dr. Owens is bringing her meds tomorrow, yeah?” Jonathan asked, brow pinched with worry.

Steve sighed, raking a hand through his hair before crouching over his knees, elbows pressing into them. “Yeah. Yeah, that can’t come soon enough.”

Jonathan looked at Steve with a somber expression. He hated that he was going through this. Seriously, when was Harrington going to catch a damn break?

“She’ll be alright, man,” Jonathan told him kindly. “She’s got you. Got all of us.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, she’s gonna have to be. I’ll lose my goddamn mind if she — yeah, she has to be.”

“She will,” Jonathan nodded, speaking firmly. Assuringly. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Steve bit his lip, staring at his hands.

Jonathan shuffled his feet, feeling shy again before asking… “So hey…are we cool? Like actually really, finally cool?”

Steve looked up at that, eyes shining with relief and kindness. He stood up, extending a hand out for a firm handshake. “Yeah man. We’re cool. For good.”

Jonathan felt relief wash over him entirely as he shook Steve’s hand, pulling him in for a tight hug. And Steve felt like he had just made so much peace with his old self in a multitude of ways, over one honest conversation with Byers. While he wished it had happened sooner, he realized…maybe if it had, it wouldn’t have led to this. This true sense of peace that came with newfound mature understanding that both of them had grown into individually.

Byers and Harrington could be friends now. They both had peace to find with Nancy Wheeler, but if they were being brutally honest with themselves — that wasn’t going to be possible until the two of them had hashed it out, once and for all. And now that they had, Steve could let Nancy know that he had finally moved on…once and for all...and so could she.

And Jonathan could go make things right with her — whether that led to them deciding to take time apart, or getting his girl back.

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