Re. Stranger Things

my masterlist

season one:

the prologue 1: should i stay or should i go? 2: goodbye barb 3: off with their heads! 4: baby brother 5: ice-capped fire 6: the beginning of the end 7: hurry... 8: patient, for you.

season two:

in progress!

season three:

coming soon!

season four:

coming soon!

season five:

coming soon!

It’s hot.

The body behind you shifts, inching closer until his bare chest is pressed fully against your back, his skin is warm, too warm in fact. A content sigh escapes his lips as his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers splay across your stomach like he’s trying to hold you there even in sleep. You wake slowly, blinking up at the ceiling, your skin sticky with sweat, sleep and him. Half dazed, you tilt your head towards Steve’s alarm cloak.

00:42

“Shit.” You stumble from the bed, waking the slumbering boy.

“Babe?” His voice is rough with sleep, and you turn to find him rubbing his eyes, already reaching for the lamp.

“I’m late,” you mutter, searching the floor for your clothes. “It’s late, I should’ve left hours ago. I can’t see anything.”

The soft lamp light clicks on. Steve is propped up against the headboard now, the blankets and sheets pool around his waist, his hair sticking up in every direction, lips parted in that dazed, just-woke-up look you secretly find adorable.

“Thanks.” You glance over at him, flushed, and in a hurry.

“No, thank you,” he smirks, his gaze scanning over your naked body when you bend over to pick up your scattered clothes. “You look amazing like this.”

“Perv,” you roll your eyes and playfully toss his shirt into his face. He catches it, laughing, watching as you shimmy into your jeans, moving with urgency.

Steve swings his legs over his side of the bed, the wooden floor creaking faintly as he stands. He bends to scoop up his gray sweatpants from where he tossed them hours ago, tugging them on with the same ease he peeled them off with. His hand closes around his car keys on the dresser.

“Come on, I’ll drive you,” he says, like it’s not even a question, like it’s decided.

“I rode my bike here.” You reply, tugging on your jacket.

“And?” He looks at you, eyebrows knitting together like that changes anything. “I’m not letting you ride home alone in the middle of the night.”

“Letting me?” You arch an eyebrows, crossing his room to stand in front of him. The corner of your mouth lifts into a slight smirk, your fingers gently toying with the drawstring of his sweats. “Careful, Harrington… People might start thinking that you care.”

“Care? About you?” Steve lets out a short breath, a mix between a scoff and laugh, but there’s a tension behind it. “Come on, we said casual, no feelings… Right?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding at his words.

He’s not wrong, you were the one who said that. No strings, no messy complications, most importantly no heartache.

Or so you thought.

“Right,” you echo, your tone a little too sharp for your liking. “And since it’s so casual, I’ll be riding my bike home.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder in one motion, hoping you can move fast enough so he didn’t notice the flicker of emotion in your voice. Your boots thud softly against the staircase as you head for the front door.

His house is quiet, it always is. His parents gone again, off at another one of his dad’s conferences. Not that they’re ever really there.

Just as your hand reaches for the doorknob, you hear his voice behind you, softer now.

“Wait…”

You glance back, Steve’s standing at the bottom of his stairs in the dim light, hair messy, chest bare, sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“Please,” he says, stepping closer to you, his hands sliding around your waist, the keys still clutched loosely in his right hand. “Just let me drive you home.”

“I live down the street, Steve. It’s Hawkins, nothing bad happens here.” You lean back in his embrace, your hands resting against his muscular chest, staring up into his eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He blows out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his already wild hair, looking away. “Can you just… call me? So I know you got home safe?”

You pause for a moment, Steve looking anywhere but at you when he says those words.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” you say instead, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

But before you can pull away, his arms wrap tighter around your waist and Steve leans down to kiss you. One of his hands slides up, threading into your hair at the nape of your neck, gently guiding your head as he tilts it just right to deepen the kiss. Both your mouths part simultaneously, familiar, allowing his tongue to slide in, languidly stroking against your own.

His other arm tightens around you, pressing your bodies flush together, you let out a quiet moan before you can stop it.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only just.

His lips hover, his forehead drops to yours, and for a long second, neither of you move, just catching breath that has been stolen by a kiss that didn’t feel too casual.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

The night air is crisp and has more than a slight chill to it as you pedal through the quiet, dark streets of Hawkins, your tires crunching over loose gravel the only sound in the sleepy town.

“Shit.” Both Jonathan’s and your mom’s cars are parked at the front of your home. The porch light has been purposely left on for you, most likely by your younger brother, aware that you’re not in the safety of your bedroom.

You slip through the front door as quietly as possible, but the rusted hinges betray you, groaning loud enough to make you wince. You pause, waiting, listening.

The house is dark and silent as you continue your path down the hallway, tiptoeing past your younger brother’s rooms, past your mother’s.

Your door clicks softly closed behind you, with your back against the door, you let out a small breath, you touch your lips, still tingling from Steve Harrington’s kiss.

You wearily enter the kitchen, trying to act casual when you notice Jonathan standing by the counter, carefully stirring scrambled eggs in a pan, his eyes darting to yours, narrowing slightly. The shower running in the background gives you both privacy from your mother for his upcoming interrogation.

“So,” he says breaking the silence you were all too eager for. “Where were you last night?”

“Does it really matter?” You sigh dismissively, grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it with orange juice.

“I got home at midnight and your bike wasn’t outside, you weren’t in your room.”

You pause for just a second, then take a sip of your juice, your eyes carefully avoiding his. From the corner of your eye, you see him glance at the stove, jaw tightening like he’s trying to keep something back before turning back to you.

“You know Harrington’s a piece of shit, right?” He says all knowing, his voice without judgement. “He’s not good for you, he’s just using you. I’ve seen him and Nancy at school.”

You don’t flinch, you act like it doesn’t bother you.

“I’m not you, Jonathan. I don’t care about Nancy Wheeler.” You tell him. You tell him the lie you tell yourself, hoping if you say it enough it will come true. “And maybe I’m the one using him, he’s hot, he’s easy, he doesn’t ask questions. Did you ever think about that?”

The bathroom door creaks open, and your mom steps out ready for work, muttering to herself about her late shift and car keys she can never seem to find.

The conversation between you and Jonathan is finished for now. You slip out of the kitchen without a word, heading down the hall toward Will’s room to wake him for school.

“Will! Time to get up, baby.” You frown when you open the door to Will’s unmade bed, but there’s no sign of your baby brother in his room.

Your mom walks past just a moment later, clearly with the same plan in mind, only to stop short when she sees the empty bed.

“He came home last night, right?” Your mom follows you as you walk back into the kitchen about to ask Jonathan the same question. “Did he come home or not?”

“I don’t know, I was working, Erik asked me to cover a shift.” Jonathan justifies his absence to their mother, talking about the extra cash they sometimes desperately needed.

“You don’t know?” Joyce snaps before turning to you. “And what about you?”

Your eyes dart to Jonathan’s.

“I… I don’t know. I was out,” you mumble, the words barely above a whisper, a heaviness of guilt begins to creep up and settle into your chest.

“He was at the Wheelers all day, he probably just slept over.” Jonathan offers quickly. Your eye’s flicker gratefully at him, but the guilt is still lingering.

“What is wrong with you two? I can’t believe you two sometimes.” Joyce shakes her head as she grabs the phone off the wall. You anxiously play with the sleeve of your sweater, waiting for confirmation that Will just slept over Mike’s.

“You know, I think he might’ve just left early for school, thank you very much.” You and Jonathan listen on as your mom lies to Mrs Wheeler.

You sat up quickly, rubbing one of your eyes as you pushed the covers off of yourself, immediately cringing at the cold air of the room. You rolled out of the bed, glancing around the room in the light of day, and immediately zeroing in on clothing that had been laid out for you at the end of the bed. When had someone snuck in here to do that? You hadn't heard anyone, and obviously they had been stealthy about it since the door had that obnoxious squeak if opened too wide. It made you shudder, it made you pull on the jeans quickly in case someone, whoever it may be, could see you standing there half naked.

You opted to keep your sweater on, but pulled the plaid shirt on over it, buttoning it. Your boots were exactly where you'd left them the night before, a pair of fake leather designer numbers you'd gotten second-hand, not suitable at all for outdoor chores, but truthfully you had no idea what Karen was going to have you doing today, so you pulled them on anyway. The jeans you'd been given were a bit too long and the boots helped keep you from tripping over them on your way downstairs.

The kitchen was alive with activity when you arrived. Roy was seated at the head of the table, an empty chair to his left. Beside that were two little girls, faces the same with clothes to match. More men than you'd seen the night before were taking up most of the rest of the table, plates empty already or nearly so.

“Ah,” Roy boomed, silencing all of the other conversations happening around him, and drawing Karen's attention to you from where she stood at the stove, fixing two plates, presumably for the little girls. “Look who finally decided to join us. Good morning, darlin'.”

You tried to keep the scowl off your face as every single person at the table looked toward you. Fiddling with the sleeve of the flannel you'd been given, you shrugged a shoulder. “Couldn't set an alarm,” you said. “Phone's dead, remember?” Roy smirked, opening his mouth to retort, but you kept going. “If I can just use your landline, I'd be out of your hair for good.”

Without waiting for permission, you stepped into the kitchen and headed for the phone hanging on the wall. Before you'd even taken three steps, Roy looked at the young man seated at his right hand. At the look, he was up, his chair skidding back a little on the tile floor with the speed at which he'd risen. He beat you to the phone, clapping his hand down onto the receiver and resting his other hand on the butt of the gun in his thigh holster—a fucking gun.

“I'd rethink touchin' without askin', sweetheart,” he said, and Roy stood up behind him, clearing his throat. The younger man looked back at Roy but made no move to retreat, at least until Roy cleared his throat again.

“That's enough, Gator. I think she gets it,” he said, and even as you watched, you saw the young man—Gator, apparently—lose the edge of confidence he'd had in his expression. It melted away to one of admonishment; he lowered his eyes, deferring to Roy's decree, and stepped away from the phone, returning to his seat, the legs of the chair scraping as he pulled it back to the table.

Your cheeks were hot, you could feel them, enough pairs of eyes on you that you felt utterly exposed even though you were dressed in layers. As you watched the scene at the table, Karen walked over calmly, as though nothing had happened, and put the identical plates down in front of her girls. Gently, she smoothed her hand over their pigtails, one then the next, before she sat down beside them and began eating her own meal, the last one to get any food even though she had surely been the first one to rise. Business as usual, despite the outburst.

Your eyes drifted over the others at the table, all of them either eating or preparing to get up and go about their daily business, but finally your gaze settled on Roy.

“You missed breakfast, young lady,” he said, and the phrase made you lose what appetite you did have after a long, cold night. “If Karen thinks there's enough time before you all get started today, you can make a plate, otherwise...”

“There isn't,” Karen said, even though she had barely begun eating herself, and she'd left a stack of pancakes and half a pan of eggs on the stove. “Tomorrow, wake up on time.”

“I want to call my parents,” you said, deciding to forget about the towtruck.

“No need,” Roy said. “I spoke to them this morning.”

“Excuse me?” you said, legitimately shocked. “When?”

“When you were upstairs sleeping in,” Roy said, sitting back down at the table and picking up his coffee mug, taking a long sip. Beside him, you saw Gator reach for his as well, taking just as long a draught. You stared daggers at the back of Gator's head, only because you didn't think Roy would take too kindly to you killing him with your eyes.

“Stick to Karen today,” Roy continued, lifting his napkin from his lap and wiping his mouth, before tossing it onto the table; it landed partly on Karen's plate, but she only moved the cloth off of her food without complaint or comment. “She'll show you the ropes.”

“But what about my parents?” you pushed, stepping closer. Gator shifted his chair, turning it just enough that he could easily intercept you if you approached Roy too quickly. “I want to talk to them.”

“I already explained your predicament,” Roy said, not even looking at you as he spoke. “They were more than grateful that I'm putting you up for the time being. As a matter of fact, when I explained that I was the sheriff here and they learned that you'd gone and dropped out of school—” Your mouth dropped open, because how did he find that out? “—they thought it might be... beneficial that you get some other kind of education. So how's about that?” He glanced up at you. “Close that mouth, darlin', around here that looks like an invitation.”

You snapped your mouth shut as a few of the other men snickered. Gator only looked from you to Roy, who nodded his head toward his staff (Were they here of their own free will? you wondered), and the crowd around the table dispersed except for the twin girls, Gator, and Karen.

Roy looked down at Gator, still seated, and as soon as their eyes met, Roy's gaze angled down his nose at the younger man, Gator stood, back ramrod straight, quite nearly at attention. “Sir.”

“You head on down to the station,” Roy said, gesturing to Gator with his chin. “I'll be up there soon, just gotta make sure our little miss had a good evening last night.”

Gator hesitated, something you could tell just by looking pained him to do—disobeying orders from the sheriff didn't seem high on most people's lists. “Sir,” he said again, though this time his tone was slightly imploring. “I thought you might want to ride together?” It pitched up at the end, a question, but he cleared his throat, making it seem less desperate.

Roy leveled Gator with a look. “I have business here, boy, I just told you that. Get.”

Gator just mumbled “Sir” for the third time, hurried around the table, and left the room. You heard him mount the stairs quickly, and during the few moments of quiet while he presumably readied himself for the day, Roy looked back at you.

“Now, I know you're a bit touchy after—” he started, but you interrupted, because touchy wasn't what you were, and if it was, you had every right to be.

“I want to speak to my parents,” you said. “You say you spoke to them already, but I need to talk to them. I need to explain about school—how did you even know about that?”

Roy only smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. “I'm the sheriff, darlin'. I know half the damn bureaucracy in this state, and every single one'a them is in my pocket. Ain't that far of a stretch that I can learn any damn thing I need to.”

You stared him down, not speaking for long enough that Gator was thumping his way back down the stairs. Out of your periphery, you saw him pause at the kitchen door, but neither Roy nor Karen reacted to him. One of the little girls waved to him and whispered “Bye, Gator.” He smiled and waved back, then went on his way, slamming the front door as he left the house.

“So what, you're kidnapping me?”

Karen's head snapped up at that, and Roy's lips flattened into a thin line.

“Now, I'd be careful about levelin' accusations in this house,” he said.

“What is this, then?” you asked, incredulous. “I'm not allowed to call my parents, you won't let me charge my phone, you researched me, and at this point I'm fairly sure you won't let anyone give me a ride back to get my car, so... what am I missing here, Sheriff? Are you above the law?”

“I am the law,” Roy said, and you didn't miss the way his chest puffed out a bit when he said it, like he really, truly believed it. “And your car is on its way here as we speak. I'm having it towed here for you, so we can figure out what's wrong with it and get it fixed for you.”

Despite everything in you telling you not to hope, a small glimmer sparked to life in your chest. Did that mean he would let you drive out of this hellhole?

“We'll need another good vehicle for the winter,” Roy concluded.

And just like that, the warm bubble in your chest popped.

KATE THOUGHT THAT she and Robin must have been searching for clues for hours, but they had yet to find anything inside of the Creel House that alerted them of Vecna’s presence. Whenever the sun peaked just below the horizon and daylight began to dim, the ceiling fixtures in the house began to light up, blinking almost as they all stood in front of the one on the downstairs level.

Max, Nancy, and Lucas had been the one to find the chandelier downstairs. Whenever Lucas ran around the house to find everyone, the four on the upstairs level swiftly joined Nancy and Max to find the light blinking. Kate, Nancy, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Steve all stood around the chandelier downstairs, now watching it carefully.

“It’s like those damn Christmas lights,” Kate said, more specifically to Nancy even though she didn’t turn her head toward her.

“The Christmas lights?” Robin asked softly, whispering to her.

“Yeah, when Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life,” Nancy explained as Kate investigated the lights above them. She was trying to figure out if they were blinking something in Morse code, similarly to the one time that Will had spoken to them through Morse code whenever he was possessed by the Mind Flayer. Of course, nothing came of it.

“Vecna’s here. In this house,” Lucas said, turning to the rest of the group. “Just on the other side.”

When the chandelier light finally stopped pulsing and shut off entirely, tension immediately filled the air. Other than their flashlights, they were left in complete darkness.

“I think he just left the room,” Robin said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Max looked around the room, almost as if she was waiting for him to appear. “Did he hear us?”

Steve turned to her. “Can he see us?”

“Headphones,” Lucas whispered to Max, and she quickly put her headphones over her ears, preparing herself to listen to “Running Up That Hill” for the thousandth time that day.

“Wait, wait,” Nancy said, an idea striking her. “Everyone, turn off your flashlights and spread out.”

“We’re not gonna be able to see if we turn off our flash… lights,” Steve said, although he was completely ignored as everyone walked off in different directions.

Kate clicked hers off, only shrugging when he gave her a confused look. “You coming or what?”

He gave her a concerned look for only a second before he clicked his off and followed behind her. “Jesus Christ.” They’d both gone upstairs to look for any signs of Vecna, and Kate explained what she assumed was Nancy’s thought process to him. “Okay, so, I think she’s trying to see if we can find where Vecna is based on the flashlights. Based on what we’ve seen before, the flashlights should light up even if they’re not on if we find him. I have no idea how it actually works, but that’s why Joyce put up those Christmas lights in her house. She found a way to talk to Will through the lights. So basically, if something’s in the Upside Down, the lights in the same place should blink in our world.” She paused for a second, trying to think of a time where he could have seen such an event. “You’ve seen it before. That’s why those Christmas lights lit up at Joyce’s whenever we tried killing the Demogorgon a couple years ago. Remember that?”

Steve hesitated, partially because he still didn’t quite understand what she was saying. “Wait a sec. What about the lights that came on afterward? After part of it was sizzling in the beartrap?”

She took a deep breath, still holding her flashlight upright to try and locate Vecna. “That was Joyce and, uh… and my dad. They were actually cutting through the house while we were inside. That’s why they came on like that.”

“Oh.” Steve only watched her carefully as she remained focused on the task at hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, turning to look at him for only a second. “A little on edge, but that’s normal.” He hesitated to speak again. “You know, I, uh… I don’t know how he picks his victims, but you know what happens to them?”

“They get to play a little game of ‘snap all your limbs out of place’ and die?”

Steve chuckled uneasily. “Yeah, uh… no. They all have these… these vision. They’re kinda like your episodes.”

The color drained from her face, any sign of mirth immediately disappearing. “What?”

“Yeah, I know. I know, please don’t… please don’t freak out, okay? I’m only telling you because I think you deserve to know.”

“But I’ve been having those for, like… a year and a half now, and I—” I’m not dead. “Maybe they’re different? Mine have to be different, right?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, just… If you see some big, scary ass grandfather clock the next time you have one, can you please let me know? I don’t want any repeats after Max.”

She nodded. “Y–Yeah, sure. Sure.” She paused, almost scoffing. “You need to know my favorite song too?”

“Already got that covered.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Oh yeah? What is it, then?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, you’ve got, like, five of ‘em.”

“And they are…”

“In no particular order, uh… ‘Landslide,’ ‘Silver Springs,’ ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love,’ and ‘Love of My Life.’ Like, especially that one.”

She was nearly stunned he named all of those considering he could barely name songs that he liked. “That’s four.”

He gave her a funny look before throwing his head back and chuckling. “Jesus, how could I forget ‘I Want to Break Free?’ I’ve heard that song, like, a thousand times.”

“Shut up, you know you like it too,” she said, trying to hide her smile. Kate had no idea how he’d still been able to keep track of all of that. “I mean, I like ‘Modern Love’ too. And ‘Gold Dust Woman.’ Oh, and—”

“Let me guess, literally anything by Stevie Nicks? Or Queen? Anything by either of them at all ever?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was gonna actually say ‘Wish You Were Here,’ but fine. Be like that.”

“Oh shit, d’you mean the Pink Floyd ‘Wish You Were Here’ or the Christine McVie one?”

“I’m sorry, how the fuck do you know who she is?” she asked, eyes wide in bewilderment.

“Who, Christine McVie?” Whenever she nodded, he shrugged. “She’s in your favorite band, Kathy. Of course I know who Christine McVie is.”

“No, there’s no way, because I only pushed the songs that Stevie wrote on you, not the Christine ones. Those ones are, like, depressing as fuck. Like, seriously, all of them, okay?” She paused. “Also, to answer your question, both are good. Really good, actually.”

“Good to know.”

“But seriously, how the fuck do you know who that is? How did you even know that was a Fleetwood Mac song? I mean, that wasn’t even released as a single!”

He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I–I guess you could say that I, uh… I’ve started paying more attention to the radio. Heard something by them a while back a–and I went and bought a cassette for it, you know? I was… supporting… artists, or whatever. Like you always used to say.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. As much as she had said that to him in the past, he had never listened to her because she would just keep her own cassettes in his car. “You’ve never bought a cassette for yourself once in your goddamn life.”

He gave her a funny look for a moment. After Kate had dumped him and he’d heard “Hold Me” on the last cassette that she’d made him, Steve, obviously, had impulsively bought Fleetwood Mac’s entire discography to remind himself of her, but it wasn’t like he could say that. “Well, I mean, I… I–I just thought I–I’d buy some tapes of my own, you know? So I… You know, so I still had some stuff to choose from.”

With that, she’d understood him. Whenever she’d gone away to school, Steve had given her most of her cassettes to take with her, which had nearly left him without any of his own to have loaded in the glovebox.

“So, just… just to be clear,” Kate said, almost in disbelief, “you’re a Fleetwood Mac fan now?”

“Yeah, totally,” he said, smiling. “I, uh… I guess I finally get why you’re so crazy over ‘em. They’re really great.”

“You saw them with me twice, Steven, how did you not see it then?” she asked, laughing in disbelief.

“I mean, to be completely fair, I wasn’t focused on the music back then. I was kinda… distracted by someone else.” 

She scratched the back of her neck somewhat sheepishly. Damn. “Uh—Well, i–it’s good to know that you’re a Fleetwood Mac fan now. I still thought your favorite song would be ‘Old Time Rock and Roll,’ which would be extremely lame.” “Okay, that is not lame,” he said pointedly. 

Kate’s mouth fell open in shock as she laughed. “Oh my God, it is still ‘Old Time Rock and Roll!’”

Steve could feel his face flush. “That is a great part of a great movie, okay?”

“That movie being Risky Business, which is not great, just so you know.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. You’re the one that’s in love with Tom Cruise.”

“Are you sure?” Kate asked, unconvinced considering he’d nearly made it his life goal to be the real-life Joel Goodsen after that movie had come out.

“Yes! The only reason why I went to go see that movie is because you wanted to go so damn bad. I would have never gone to see it if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s because I didn’t realize it was a porno with a shitty plot, Steve!”

“And you know what? You can blame yourself for that. I enjoyed it.”

She stifled a laugh. “Of course you did. Only a good movie if it’s got boobs in it, right?”

“Woah, that is not what I said,” he explained defensively. “All I’m saying is that Tom Cruise had a great idea. I think he’s genius, actually.”

“Of course, you would think that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She grinned for a second. “Just that you… would be the one to consider such a business endeavor as upper class pimping.” “No, I just know how to admire great work.” “You’re such a dork.”

He scoffed. “You are such a dork—”

“I got him!” Robin shouted from another room. Steve and Kate only exchanged glances for a second before running in the direction of her voice. “Got him!”

Whenever they found her holding her flashlight upright in the middle of one of the rooms downstairs, she spoke again, almost excited. “I got him!” The light, however, quickly gave out again, and Robin became much less enthusiastic. “I… I had him.” Steve’s flashlight began to self-illuminate which made him stand up a bit straighter. “Oh, woah.” He started following the light as it flickered in an attempt to follow Vecna’s path. “Oh, I think he’s moving. He’s moving!”

The rest of the group followed behind Steve as he continued to shine his flashlight upright, leading them up the stairs before it gave out when they got to the top.

“Shit, I lost him.”

“No, you didn’t,” Max said before walking toward the wall and opening the door that led to the attic. Whenever she opened it, a light appeared to shine from inside the corridor and illuminated the staircase within eerily. Max looked back at the group before she opened the door and, without much hesitation, walked up the stairs to the attic without a word.

Steve and Kate exchanged glances as they stood at the bottom of the stairs, then both followed Max to the attic. Robin peered around the corner of the doorframe, a slight panic lacing her voice before following them. “It’s an attic. Of course it’s an attic.” Dustin stood at the bottom of the stairs hesitantly, watching as everyone went up the staircase without question. “Hold up, guys. What if he's leading us into a trap?” When no response came from anyone in the group, he realized he would be left alone if he didn’t join them. “Shit.” Whenever they all reached the attic, they found there was a lightbulb that pulsed brightly, its light shining brightly despite no one turning on the bulb. Dustin’s flashlight, which was pointed in its direction, also brightened and twinkled in unison with the pull string light above them.

“Flashlights.”

Everyone held their flashlights up in the direction of the lightbulb, holding them vertically in their hands.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve asked, his palms sweaty as he held the flashlight.

The radiance of the attic’s pull string bulb seemed to grow more intense with each passing second, the light beginning to shine so bright it started to burn Kate’s eyes. Before she could comment on it, however, the glass of Kate’s flashlight popped in her face, then Steve’s and Robin’s and the rest of the group’s faces as they gasped and screamed at the sounds of it breaking. Whenever the pull string lightbulb shattered, the seven of them were left in complete darkness.

“What… the hell… was that?” Kate asked, wiping her face carefully to clear it of any potential shards of glass.

“You guys okay?” Steve asked as his eyes readjusted to the darkness.

“Yeah, let’s just… get out of here,” Nancy said cautiously. “I think we’ve done enough for one day.”

No one argued with her before hastily shuffling out of the attic and out of the Creel house, at least for the time being.

When they had all gotten back to the Wheeler’s house, Steve had decided he needed to go home. He had been wearing the same clothes for three days, and that was almost less pressing than the state of his hair. Even though he knew the buzzcut was off the table, he still wanted to wash his hair after the cobweb incident. He owed himself that much, at least.

He had offered to take anyone else home who felt like they needed a break. To anyone who wanted to sleep in their own bed for the night instead of on the floor, maybe shower, or even change their clothes for the first time in days. Only Robin had taken him up on his offer; Lucas, Dustin, and Max still wanted to stay with each other and Nancy told them they could still stay in the basement if they chose to. That, however, left one person in their group that didn’t have a home to go back to.

Steve had offered for Kate to go back to his house and stay with him. He didn’t think that was such a crazy thing to suggest. Considering how many times Kate had stayed at his house before they had gotten together with and without his parents there, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with asking her to stay with him now. It was just for a night, anyway. A night where she got to sleep in a queen-sized bed and take a hot shower. He didn’t think the idea was so crazy until Kate looked at him as if he had two heads. Only then did he start to question his line of thinking about the situation.

Kate had told him she would think about his offer on the car ride back to Nancy’s, but realistically she had already decided on what she wanted to do whenever he’d first asked her. Of course she wanted to go back to Steve’s house with him. She’d be stupid not to want to go with him, especially if they were going to be alone. If it had been a year ago, she would have been chomping at the bit for the invitation, especially because that was the only time she could guarantee that they were actually alone. Now, though, she thought that the trip would just be inappropriate despite his innocent invitation. With the kiss she thought they had almost shared the night before in mind, she didn’t know if it was a good idea. Not now. Not after everything they had gone through. The last thing they needed to do was further complicate things. She didn’t even know if it was a good idea for everyone to split up with everything going on in the first place.

Her innumerable thoughts about the situation seemed to consume her until Nancy pulled her car into her driveway, nearing the basement door. After Steve helped her out of the trunk, they both stood in the Wheelers’ driveway. 

“So, what’ll it be?” Steve asked. Despite his nonchalant tone, he looked at her pleadingly which only made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, almost unsure. “Don’t you think I should probably stay with Nance and the kids? You know, just in case something happens?”

“I think if you do that, you’ll sleep on the floor again.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal if I do. Worst case scenario, my body starts aching and I threaten the kids to give it up for one of their elders.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I know you. You’re just gonna sleep on the floor again for the third night in a row.”

“Plan B is threaten the kids, remember?”

He gave her an unconvinced look as he chuckled. “So you’re telling me you’d rather sleep on the floor or a nasty couch if you’re lucky in a fourteen-year-old boy’s basement than sleep in a nice bed back at my place? You’re crazy.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Come on, Kathy. It won’t—I won’t… It’ll be fine. Seriously. It’s either me or those three dipshits, and I’m pretty sure you getting your own bed for the night is the much better option.”

Kate’s eyes followed in the direction that he’d nodded his head to; Dustin, Lucas, and Max, who were all bickering about something she couldn’t quite pick up on. Whenever she met Steve’s eyes again, which were practically begging for her to come back with him—goddamn puppy dog eyes—she finally caved.

“Fine. Let me go get my bag.”

When he gave a dumbfounded smile in repsonse, Robin walked up to him from behind and chuckled. “Don’t forget that if anything good happens, you have to wrap it before you—”

“Shut up.”

Max, Dustin, and Lucas had decided to stay in Mike’s basement together again.

Nancy hadn’t minded housing the three kids again. Max hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty trailer or to her mother drinking away her sorrows on the couch, and Dustin and Lucas didn’t want to leave her alone in the basement. Besides, they had to protect Max, and what better way to do that than to continue to camp out with her in Mike’s basement? Because of that, Nancy had made an agreement to take Dustin and Max home in the morning to change and shower while Lucas ran next door to his place to get ready for the day.

Despite the three of them still sharing the basement with one another, they couldn’t help but feel the noticeable absence of Steve, Kate, and Robin. While at first they’d shared excitement whenever half of them had decided to leave for the night, meaning the three of them would most likely get better sleep, now it seemed eerily quiet. Their night also became much less entertaining without Steve and Kate there to analyze. That only meant they could now only speculate on what the two of them were doing alone in his house.

“What do you think they’re… doing?” Lucas asked Dustin and Max.

Dustin shrugged. “Probably each other by now, considering their previous history.”

“That’s actually disgusting,” Max replied, the expression on her face matching her equally disgusted tone. “There’s no way, I mean… Kate dumped him forever ago. She wouldn’t stoop that low again.”

“I’m sorry, did you not see the two of them this morning?” Dustin asked, motioning to the remnants of the palette that they’d made together the night before. “Also, like, any other time they’ve interacted in the past couple of days?”

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t think she’d actually do anything about it,” Max replied. “I told you guys last night: I don’t think she’s actually gonna get back with him again.”

“Then why did she go back with him to his house? Alone, I might add?”

“I don’t know, Dustin, maybe she wanted to sleep in an actual bed or something!”

“I don’t know, guys, I think we’re reading too much into this,” Lucas said simply. “I mean, think about it. Ever since we’ve met them, they’ve always been weird. Like, weird enough for us to pick up on their weirdness.”

“That’s why I’m telling you that come tomorrow morning, the two of them will be back together. Just watch,” Dustin said confidently. “Steve can win her over again. I’m sure of it.”

“Why you have such confidence in him I’ll never know,” Max replied. “If that happens, I’ll be sending her my regrets.”

“Your regrets?”

“Obviously,” she replied. “I mean, at this point, I just feel bad for her.”

Both Dustin and Lucas turned to give her an odd look. 

“You feel bad for her?”

“Why?”

“Well, I–I mean, yeah, I feel bad for her!” Max explained. “I mean, if I was with a guy like Steve for as long as Kate was, that would already make me want to throw up, but if she’s still actually liked him this entire time and dumped him for absolutely no reason, then she’s got problems.”

“No she doesn’t,” Dustin said in defense of the older boy. “Steve’s awesome. She shouldn’t have even broken up with him in the first place.” “Says you! Maybe he was being annoying and she—”

“He was just trying to—”

“Why are we arguing about this!” Lucas interjected, cutting off their squabbling. Whenever they both turned to look at him with a somewhat surprised look on their faces, he sighed. “Look, we can theorize all we want about their… relationship, or lackthereof. Maybe they’re gonna get back together, or maybe they won’t. I don’t know, but the only thing we can say confidently is that they’re both weird, okay? Both of them. There’s no point in arguing about the fact that they’re just weirdos.”

Dustin nodded conclusively. “Exactly. They’re both just… weirdos.”

After Steve and Kate had dropped Robin off at her place, they found that there hadn’t been much to talk about on the drive to his house.

Steve had been kind enough to stop at Hardee’s so they could both get a bite to eat. As kind as Nancy’s parents had been to let them all stay in their basement for as long as they had, Steve and Kate both agreed that they didn’t want to stay for dinner and overextend their welcome. Steve had initially planned to cook for her with the stuff he had at the house, but whenever she’d made a comment about how she couldn’t believe they’d replaced the Burger Chef with a Hardee’s when they’d passed it and that she’d never actually gone to one, Steve immediately offered to take her on his treat. At least that way he didn’t have to worry about cleaning up his kitchen.

“You know, this is actually pretty good,” Kate said, stealing another fry from the bag. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Yeah, I’m glad they’re not open too late. I’d just get this every time I have to close at work instead of go home and cook something.”

“Don’t you get off at, like, midnight?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I don’t wanna cook, okay? I don’t wanna spend an hour making the kitchen look spotless. I just wanna grab something to eat and go to bed.”

She chortled. “Oh my God, I’m the worst about that. Like, especially on the weekends. By the time I’m done with that third shift I’m fucking starving. There’s no way I’m gonna cook something for myself after all that. I’m always, like, exhausted.”

“Wait, hold on a sec, third?” Steve asked. “How’s that even possible? Or legal? I mean, are you guys even open that long?”

Kate shook her head. “No, no, no, that’s three shifts split between two jobs. I work a double in the morning and then I close up at the bookstore. It’s really not that bad, it just tires me out by the end of the night.”

“You have two jobs? Why didn’t you—?” He stopped himself before he asked why she didn’t tell him. She didn’t have to tell him anything anymore if she didn’t want to, especially not about her financial situation. “What’s… What’s your other job?”

“How don’t you—?” Kate cut herself off. Of course he didn’t know abuot that. She’d only started working at the diner a couple of months ago. Since the start of the semester, actually, which automatically meant he wouldn’t know about it unless Robin or Nancy had told him. “The bookstore job wasn’t cutting it. All of the flights to California kinda killed my savings, so I picked up a job waiting tables at a diner near my place.”

“You? Waiting tables?” Steve asked incredulously. “No way.”

“Oh, yeah, way.” Kate sighed. “It… I make good money. The tips are good.”

“And, uh… how’s it other than that?”

“It’s terrible,” she whined, which made him chuckle. “I’ve thought about leaving so many times, but I’m scared I won’t make as much money at other restaurants. I mean, people can be such assholes. I have so many horror stories at this point.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” Kate said somewhat loudly. “Absolute horror stories, okay? You know how many people I’ve had tell me I’m wasting my time in school just because I’m pretty? That’s if I’m lucky, really, because other times they comment about how hot my body is or they just tell me it’s a shame I’m not letting some rich guy off of Wall Street take care of me. And do you know how many guys have flirted with me in front of their wives? It’s fucking nasty! And people are so fucking judgy. Like, I’m just trying to afford to eat at this point. It’s not my fault if I flirt back just to make a couple bucks.” Whenever she saw Steve’s smirk out of the corner of her eye, she sighed. “You know, I think too many of these people realize I only get paid if I’m not a bitch to them. Like, the only reason I haven’t lost my shit yet is because half of them tip well.”

Steve chuckled. While he did think she was pretty, Kate had always wanted to go away to school. Besides, she hadn’t ever been the type to sit around and let someone else provide for her. He’d learned that the hard way after her father had died. Kate, obviously, would rather suffer than receive help from anyone, and that was something he’d come to accept.

“Okay, first off, I can’t even imagine you as a waitress,” he said. “Like, seriously. I have to see this at least once. I mean, you being forced to be nice to people you don’t like? That sounds hilarious.”

“It’s fucking awful. I refuse to let you see that side of me.”

“Oh, what, you being nice to me for once?”

“No, because I’m not gonna flirt with you for your money. That’s just mean.”

“I mean, if a couple bucks is all it would take, sounds worth it to me.”

Her face flushed. “Steven, I mean it, you’re never gonna see me at work. Never.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

She tried to hide her smile. The thought of Steve in that diner specifically sitting in her section made her face flush. Even if she was completely against the idea, she knew that somehow he would most likely be the best table she’d ever have. Of course, she already knew what he’d order. Depending on the time of day, he’d most likely order a cheeseburger with a side of fries, no pickles, and he’d get both acherry  coke and a chocolate milkshake if he knew it would help her sales. Despite his small tab, he’d give her an astronomical tip, one that she would try to refuse but he wouldn’t let her. He’d probably make a little quip about it and say it was for the flirting, but she’d really know that he was just trying to help despite his miniscule income. Before she could say anything else, the song that played faintly in the background caught her attention. Kate instinctually turned up the volume knob on the radio whenever she heard the introduction to “Rock Me, Amadeus.” At least this was a song she knew already.

“You like this song?” Steve asked, tapping his fingers nervously against the steering wheel to the beat. “That kinda surprises me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it’s kinda tacky, don’t you think?”

“How so?” Kate asked, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion.

He turned up the volume knob again as he began to sing along to the lyrics whenever it got to the second verse. “A rock superstar, You’re so popular, You ride an X-19, That guy’s got flair—”

Steve stopped whenever Kate started giggling through words. “Oh my God, no, that’s not… Tho–Those aren’t the words.”

“What d’you mean? That’s exactly what the words are!”

“Steven, the song is in German.”

“What?”

She laughed even harder. “It’s German! All the words are German. Like, ninety-nine percent of the song is in the German language.”

“You’re joking.”

“I swear to God, I’m not. Just listen.”

He listened to the third verse as it started to play, his version of the lyrics still playing in his head as she mumbled the supposed German lyrics. It wasn’t until he heard “no plastic money anymore” that he realized all of the other words were not English. “Oh.”

Kate laughed again, almost crying. “Oh my God, that’s awesome.”

Whenever he didn’t reply, it fell silent again, and Kate turned down the radio just enough to where the music barely buzzed. She figured he now most likely had Falco-related trauma, so she wouldn’t subject him to any more of that. In hindsight, she couldn’t help but feel bad that she laughed so hard. She didn’t mean to embarrass him, she just thought it was funny. Cute, rather. All of the songs that she liked with other bits of foreign languages sprinkled into its lyrics started to run through her mind: what did he think of “Eyes Without a Face?” “Michelle?” “Las Palabras de Amor?” She wanted to hear him sing every song with another language featured within it just for her own enjoyment.

Kate finally looked over at him in the driver’s seat to find that he had already completely engrossed himself again with the road in front of him. She smiled for half a second before pressing her lips together. “You know, I can’t believe you made it two days without redoing your hair completely.”

“What?”

She stifled a laugh. “Seriously. You survived two whole days and two whole nights without being able to redo it. I’m really proud of you, Steven. This is progress.”

“You’re acting like I have a problem.”

“I mean, you do, but it’s okay.”

“I have a routine, okay?” he said, running his hand overtop of his hair protectively. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief. “You seriously think I don’t know the process by now?”

“I know you don’t know the process. Only person that knows is Henderson.”

She chuckled. “So you mean to tell me you think that I don’t know about the Farrah Fawcett spray?”

With that, Steve almost wrecked the car as he slammed on breaks, swerving slightly. “How do you know about? Did Henderson tell you? I’m gonna—”

Whenever she laughed again, he cut himself off. “Steve, I used to practically live at your house. Of course I know about the Farrah Fawcett spray. I’ve known since, like, the eighth grade. I just thought it was one of those things we didn’t talk about but you knew I knew.”

“There’s never been anything we didn’t talk about but I knew you knew. Unless…” Steve said, trailing off his sentence. “What… What else do you secretly know about me?”

“Well,” she said uneasily, “I know you do this thing when you’re about to cry and you pinch your nose so don’t. I know you drink dark liquor when you’re sad and beer when you wanna have a good time, and I… I–I know about all the Playboys you have hidden at the bottom of your nightstand. Oh my God, and I know where you put your dirty socks after you—!”

“Okay, stop, I don’t wanna know anything else,” he said somewhat concernedly. 

She shrugged. “You’re lucky the only thing I knew about in the eighth grade was the Farrah Fawcett spray. If I would’ve found those socks and the magazines with all the blondes with nice racks back then, you would’ve been done.”

He tapped his hand on the steering wheel, gripping it tighter. So much for that. “Yeah, well, I–I don’t use Farrah Fawcett anymore, okay? They discontinued all that shit because, apparently, I’m the only one that actually bought any of it.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her laughter once again. “That’s so fucking sad.”

“I know! She was bought out by McGregor and now I have to use—” Whenever he turned to look at her more than excited face, he sighed. “You were being sarcastic.” 

“No, I—!”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna give you any more ammo tonight.”

“No, please, now I have to know!” she said as she fought giggles. “I mean, what do you do now? Use Aquanet or something?”

His chuckle before he spoke juxtaposed his tone. “I am not telling you.” 

She sighed sarcastically, trying to sound disappointed. “Damn. Guess I’m just gonna have to find it out for myself. Again. Among other things.”

“No, you’re not gonna figure out shit, okay? And stop snooping through my shit!”

“I’m not snooping, okay? It always happens whenever I’m looking for something completely normal like shampoo or a t-shirt or something, and then bam! I find out something about you I never wanted to know in the first place!”

“You should’ve just asked!” he said pointedly. “Which is… exactly what you’re gonna do this time, right?”

“Then how would I confirm you’re an Aquanet user, Steven?” Whenever he opened his mouth to speak again, she chuckled. “I can’t believe you thought I actually didn’t know about any of that shit. That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut it.”

Whenever they’d finally arrived at his house, carefully making their way inside, Kate decided it was more than time to take a shower.

Kate hadn’t used a good shower since she’d gone back to school that spring semester. The showers in her dorm barely worked, the water heaters magically working every once in a blue moon for only a few minutes or so. Now that she was using Steve’s, though, she thought she could stay in there forever as the hot water seeped into her aching bones and muscles. It wasn’t like he was paying the water bill.

She hadn’t realized she’d actually been taking forever until Steve knocked lightly at the door, making her jump. “Hey, Kathy? You drown in there?”

Shit.

“I’ll be out in a sec!” she shouted, urgently trying to rinse the conditioner of Steve’s she’d borrowed out of her hair.

Once she’d dried off a bit and wrung her hair out a few times, she threw on the oversized t-shirt and old Hawkins High gym shorts that Steve had essentially forced her to have—he’d said something along the lines of “just take my goddamn clothes, Kathy,” and there hadn’t been much point to argue with him after that. 

She hadn’t been paying too much attention to her surroundings as she brushed through her hair until she saw something behind her in the mirror, making her gasp and turn around to face it.

Eleven.

This version of her sister looked different. While she still looked uncannily like El, her head was shaven and blood trickled down her nostrils, her outfit soaked with blood. She couldn’t tell whose blood her sister was doused in, whether it be her own or someone else’s. She knew that whatever this was it couldn’t have been real: El hadn’t had her powers since the Fourth of July.

“What the hell?” she muttered to herself, trying to catch her breath.

“Why did you let them take me?” El finally asked her. “You left me behind.”

Kate rapidly shook her head as she put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “No, Ellie, no, I–I’m still looking for you, I promise.”

“No.” El didn’t move, only staring at her. “You. Left. Me.”

“No, I didn’t—!”

“You left me to die.”

Kate still shook her head. “Ellie, no, listen to me, I… I promise, I’m still here. I–I’m going to be here. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.” “Just like you didn’t let anything bad happen to me, kid?”

Kate gasped, turning around again as she looked her father up and down. Jim Hopper stood in front of her again like a day hadn’t passed since his untimely death. He was even wearing the same floral shirt and jeans he’d been wearing before he’d gone down to the Russian base. Before he’d been blown up. The only difference was now he was covered in blood.

Seeing her father now only made her heart race. He’s not real, he’s not real, he’s not real. She took a step back, her hands gripped on the bathroom counter behind her. She shook her head rapidly as tears brewed in her eyes. “You’re… You’re not here. Get out of my head.”

“Come on, kid. Just admit you could’ve stopped this. All of this.”

“Get out of my fucking head!”

“What about me?”

Kate turned her head once again and was met with Steve. Not you, too. He looked exactly the same as he had just only an hour ago, the same polo and messy hair from three days’ neglect. That was the only reason she’d hesitated. Despite looking the same, he was covered in blood, his eyes widened in fear.

She began to sob and shake her head as she took a step toward him, grazing his arm with her hand. He felt so real she could hardly deny he wasn’t. “No, no, no, no, no, you–you’re okay.”

“Okay? You broke my heart, Kathy. You’re gonna get me killed and you don’t even know it yet.”

“N–No, no, no, you’re fine. You’re fine. You’re okay.” Whenever his eyes grew wider with sorrow, almost pity-like, she continued to ramble. “No, please, ju–just listen to me. Please. That’s why I did all this, okay? I did it—I did it to protect you, I promise. I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear. That’s why I—”

“That’s why you what?” he asked softly, almost as if he were trying to understand what she was saying. He cupped her face with his hand, grazing his thumb across her jawline. “That’s why you killed all of us?”

She gave him a confused look, her eyes still misty as she struggled to breathe properly. “What the hell’re you—”

Whenever she looked Steve in the eyes again, she found they were now a pale blue rather than their typical amber shade. She gasped again and looked behind her to find El and her father to find them on the floor, their limbs contorted and their eyes sucked back into their skulls.

Dead. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Steve?” she called, putting a hand to his face. “Steve, wake up. No, come on, stay with me, just… Goddammit, please!”

She tried anything to wake him up. She shook him, touched his face, screamed, but it didn’t matter. It hadn’t been enough to save Max, so why would it save him? He slowly began to levitate in the air as she attempted but failed to wake him from Vecna’s curse. She took another step back, trying her best to tug at his feet to bring him back to the floor. She couldn’t give up now. His life was on the line. 

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. 

Kate had stopped telling herself that whenever his limbs began to snap one by one, the crunch of all of his bones enough to make her sick. She couldn’t help but watch now the very mess that she had created. It was her fault that he had suffered. It was her fault that he had been cursed. It was her fault that he was dead. She released a blood curdling scream as she sobbed. She was going to watch him die and there was nothing she could do about it.

His eyes began to bleed as he spoke, nearly bursting because of the pressure they were receiving. “You did this.”

Kate took a step back and squeezed her eyes shut to avoid seeing any more than what she already had, but that had only led to her slipping on the slick tile floor of the bathroom. Thank God, she thought. Whenever she opened her eyes, however, she knew she hadn’t been so lucky. She wasn’t on the tile floor of the bathroom anymore, but somewhere else entirely. 

Hawkins Lab.

She tried to stand up again, but she was already significantly weakened. She grazed the left side of her waist only to find her hand caked with blood. Kate tried to sit up again before they came for her, to try and escape before she was nothing but a late night snack, but it was no use. Dragging herself away proved useless against the multiple Demodogs that came for her now. Without her father to shoot them away or Bob to sacrifice himself for her, the creatures were already biting, tearing, shredding her skin into bits and pieces. 

“Get off of me!” she shouted, trying to shove them off of her as she sobbed, but the Demodogs were stronger. One of them had already pinned her down and had began to tear into her skin more and more until—

“Kathy!”

That was when she was pulled back to reality without warning, finding that she still only lay on Steve’s bathroom floor. She hadn’t stopped sobbing yet, barely comprehending that Steve had somehow found his way inside of the previously locked bathroom and now sat on the floor with her as he held her as best he could. She couldn’t even begin to try and fight him. She couldn’t find it within her to care. At least he was alive—that was all that mattered.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he said, pulling her closer to him whenever she’d finally come to. “I’m here, Kathy, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

She only buried her face deeper into the crook of his neck as she sobbed.

You’re okay.

next chapter

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KATE DIDN’T THINK she had slept as well as she had that night in weeks despite sleeping on the floor.

She wasn’t one for heavy sleeping nowadays, especially if there were other people around. Maybe it had just been pure exhaustion that had provided her such an ability that night. Even though she could hear voices faintly around her, she couldn’t tell who was speaking. Part of her thought that she could stay asleep if she simply ignored them long enough. As long as none of them said anything too jarring, she could have maybe drifted back off.

“Hey, lovebirds, get up.”

With that, Kate quickly shot up from her comatose state, more confused than anything. It wasn’t until she sat up that she realized Dustin had been speaking, more specifically to her and Steve.

The previous night’s events very suddenly came back to her. Steve had said he would stay up with her until her shift watching Max had ended, but he had started falling asleep on her shoulder around four in the morning. Once Robin got up and started reading through more articles about the Creels, Kate and Steve had opted to make a palette on the floor, stacking two blankets as a makeshift comforter. After they’d both fallen asleep next to each other, not even touching underneath their shared blankets, Steve had somehow gotten his arms around her and she had been using him as a pillow, their legs intertwined as well as their hands. 

Despite Kate sitting up, Steve hadn’t let go of her. Instead, his arms just slid down and pooled around her waist.

Awkward.

She quickly pulled Steve off of her, trying to get up as quickly as possible so she could be quite literally anywhere else. Her near careless shove of him had finally been the action to wake Steve up, making him jump at the sudden movement. He quickly became coherent whenever he realized Dustin was still staring at him, almost frighteningly similar to how his own mother would stare at him whenever he’d done something wrong as a child.

“Steve, get up!”

“All right, Jesus, Henderson!” he shouted back at him as he pulled himself off the ground drudgingly, almost as if he was still half-asleep.

He finally met Dustin’s gaze again whenever he’d gotten himself straightened out by running his hands through his hair. Dustin now only stared at him with a pointed expression, one that meant he was waiting for an explanation for what he’d just seen. 

Steve almost couldn’t blame him. After last night, he wanted an explanation for everything happening between him and Kate too. They’d almost kissed before Dustin had flopped on the floor in his sleep. Well, that was how he remembered it. Had she pulled away from him after the sound or before it? He’d replayed the moment so many times in his head that he was starting to think he was remembering it wrong.

No matter what had happened between them, it wasn’t any of Dustin’s business, nor anyone else’s besides his and Kate’s. “Not… a goddamn… word. Got it, dipshit?”

Dustin put his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide in concern, but without another word, Steve went to the bathroom to try and fix his hair as best he could so at least he wouldn’t look like an idiot in that regard.

It hadn’t taken long for everyone to get ready for the day considering no one had a change of clothes with them except for Kate. Before an hour had passed, Nancy had already began rushing everyone into her car so they could get on with the day. It was on the car ride to Victor Creel’s old and abandoned house that Nancy had explained what she, Dustin, and Max had discovered that morning while everyone else was still asleep.

Whenever Max had been possessed by Vecna the day before she had seen parts of the house when he’d had her trapped, just a much more destroyed version of it. She’d tried drawing what she had seen; despite her lackluster art skills, Nancy had recognized enough parts of the house after looking through so many news reports about the Creel murders to know what was what she had seen.

As they pulled up to the boarded-up building, a shiver was sent down Kate’s spine. Despite its somewhat central location to town, no one had ever tried to enter the building since it had been boarded up decades ago. In fact, almost everyone in town liked to act like the murders had never even happened, especially her paternal grandfather whenever he’d still been alive. This wasn’t like breaking into Benny’s old diner to party. As her father had told her years ago whenever she’d first asked about the house, there was something especially dark and sinister about that place, something that neither of them could begin to understand. What had presumably been a beautiful house in 1959, the old and faded blue and white building had since been reclaimed by ivy and vines on the first level, the other exterior walls for the other floors of the building seeming to grow with mold while caked with dirt. There wasn’t a window that wasn’t boarded up, and the door had a large sheet of plywood over the front of it to detract any unwanted guests. There wasn’t a thing about the place that breathed “welcoming,” which probably explained why not even the most rebellious of kids had ever tried breaking into the old Creel house. Whatever remained inside needed to stay there.

Once the group had gotten out of Nancy’s car, they stood outside of the building hesitantly, almost as if they were all reassessing if they truly wanted to go in or not.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy,” Steve said to no one in particular.

Kate shrugged and started to move toward the house. Creepy or not, they had to do this for Max.

Steve and Kate had been the ones to pry the nails off of the wooden panel that covered the door, both having a hammer each as the rest of the group watched with anticipation.

“I mean, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” he finally asked, turning to look at Nancy behind him before removing some more nails from the door. 

“We’re not sure,” Nancy replied. “We just… know this house is important to Vecna.” 

“Because Max saw it in Vecna’s red soup mind world?”

Kate stifled a laugh. “Red soup mind world” was not on the list of words she would have used to describe what Max had seen, but whatever worked for him, she supposed.

“Basically.”

“Great.”

“Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he’s back. Why he killed the Creels,” Dustin explained.

“And, more importantly, how to stop him before he comes back for Max,” Kate added.

“We… don’t think he’s in here, do we?” Lucas asked somewhat worriedly.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Max said nonchalantly. 

Steve looked over to Kate, still holding up the panel to make sure she wasn’t crushed by it. “Ready?”

She nodded in response, muttering a near inaudible “mhm” before they both let it fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Steve tried to open the door by the knob but found it only rattled in response. “It’s locked. Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need.” Kate chuckled when she turned to look at Robin had found a loose brick from the porch. When Steve gave her an unconvinced look, she shrugged.

“I found a key.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Steve took the brick from Robin and threw it through the glass door, apprehensively looking inside before sticking his hand down to unlock the door and open it. He whistled when he walked inside, waiting for the others to come in behind him.

Robin was the first after him, then Kate, Nancy, and the kids, now all holding flashlights in their hands. Kate stepped deeper into the house, trying to find something within the interior of the old Creel family home that wasn’t just abandoned furniture, dust, and cobwebs.

Lucas tried turning on one of the lamps as Steve shut the front door to the house. “Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.”

When Dustin clicked on his flashlight, Steve’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turned around to face him and gave him a shocked look. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve hesitated to respond, mostly because he had to bite his tongue so he didn’t sound like an ass. “Thank you.”

Dustin scoffed, pulling his backpack off of his back to hand it to him. “Back pocket.”

He pulled the last flashlight out of the backpack and let it drop to the floor whenever he turned it on.

Kate and Robin, who were much deeper into the house, opened the door to what was presumably the old parlor room. They scanned over it with their flashlights. Part of Kate couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was like the place hadn’t been touched since the night that the murders had happened. 

“I can’t believe they just… left everything here,” Kate said in disbelief. “I mean, not even the furniture was moved.”

“I guess a triple homicide isn’t good for resale value,” Robin replied.

Before she could respond, Max called, “Hey, guys?” Everyone walked over to where Max was standing near the staircase and looked in the direction of hre flashlight’s lit path. “You all see that, right?”

“That” in question was an old grandfather clock, one that looked like it hadn’t seen any use or dusting since the night the Creels had been murdered.

“Yeah.”

“Is… this what you saw?” Nancy asked, taking a step closer to her. “In your… visions?”

Max nodded hesitantly, almost as if she were still being haunted by those very visions.

“I mean, it’s… just a clock. Right?” Robin asked, her voice somewhat calm and steady despite her obvious anxiety staring at the antiquity. She walked around Max to get closer to the clock to try and inspect it. She wiped the glass face off, dust caking her hand. She turned back to the rest of the group. “Like a normal old clock.”

“Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?” Steve asked, his face twisted in thought. “Maybe he’s, like, a clockmaker or something?”

“I think you cracked the case, Steve,” Dustin replied sarcastically.

Steve turned to him sharply and gave him a pointed look. Now was not the time to belittle his lack of critical thinking skills.

“All I know is… the answers are here,” Nancy said. “Somewhere. Okay, everyone stay in groups. Max, you’re with me.”

Steve turned to look at Kate, but before he could say anything to her, she had already grabbed Robin by the arm and pulled her toward the staircase, making her stumble clumsily behind her. 

“Rob, let’s go upstairs.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Max said to Lucas, making him follow behind her.

Whenever everyone else had left, Steve and Dustin exchanged glances, Steve’s bitter and Dustin’s content. Steve only sighed as he started to climb up the stairs.

“Why’d you sigh?”

“I didn’t sigh,” Steve said, already halfway up the stairs. “Just come on, dude.”

“I heard you!”

“W–We’re just always partners, okay?”

“What, you have a problem with that?” Dustin asked bitterly.

“It’d just be nice to, I don’t know, mix it up a bit.” If by mixing it up, he meant spending just five minutes alone with Kate.

“So what, I’m boring you? Is that it?”

“That is—No, the opposite—”

As they argued their way up the staircase to the second floor, Steve and Dustin had completely missed the evergrowing luminescence of the light fixture above them.

Not much time passed before Kate and Robin swept their section of the upper story for anything interesting or of importance. While they didn’t find anything, the silence their searching had provided gave Kate time to think about what they might later find. Even though the rest of the group had dropped it for now, she still hadn’t been able to let go of how the Creels were murdered. If the gate hadn’t been opened until 1983, how was Vecna in Hawkins in 1959? And why had Henry been spared from the same fate as his mother and sister? He died after spending a week in a coma, sure, but it wasn’t like his body had been disfigured with his eyes destroyed and his limbs snapped in half. Something about the lack of Henry’s injuries didn’t sit right with her. How had he fallen in a coma if he hadn’t really been hurt in the first place?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Robin finally said.

“What?”

She hummed a chuckle. “What’re you thinking about over there?”

Kate hesitated to explain her thoughts. She didn’t want Robin to think she was crazy. “I just—I don’t know, there’s just something… something about all of this isn’t right. It’s starting to drive me crazy.”

Robin grinned somewhat smugly. “What about it?”

She sighed. “Well, I mean, did any of you guys even think that maybe this asshole isn’t… I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t come from the Upside Down?”

Robin gave her a confused look. “Wait, I thought you were talking about you and Ste—” Whenever Kate looked back to glare at her in an unamused manner, she quickly dropped it. “Sorry. Continue.”

Kate avoided her gaze as she explained herself. “I don’t know, I just—I’ve been thinking. Maybe this thing is… from here. Our universe, dimension, whatever you wanna call it.” Whenever she turned around to look at Robin, who now looked even more confused, Kate only sighed. “Look, as far as we know, my sister opened the first gate in 1983, right?” When Robin nodded, Kate continued on. “So how did this Vecna dude just randomly kill half a family in 1959 never to be heard from again before now? He’s… He’s gotta be from here. Has to be. And there’s something not right about that Henry kid, either. Vecna must’ve… done something to him that we don’t know about. Maybe that’s how he got here in the first place. I mean, he didn’t even kill the kid. He just put him in a coma before disappearing again. That hasn’t happened to anyone else. It’s weird and no one’s brought it up but me.”

“Okay, I dig the kid in a coma being weird, but wouldn’t that mean that Vecna’s been stuck in the Upside Down for the past three decades?” she asked. “How… How would Vecna still be alive if he was from here? I mean, didn’t Will nearly kick the interdimensional bucket after just a week of being there?”

“Yeah, but…” Kate sighed in frustration, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’m still working on that.” She looked back at Robin for only a second, who still looked confused. She didn’t know how to say she thought it might have had something to do with her sister. As far as she knew, that was how all of this had started in the first place. Somehow this must have related to her sister, but she couldn’t figure out how yet. “Look, it’s just a theory, okay? I just… It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

Robin nodded, seeming to somewhat understand her point. Maybe she wasn’t that far off. As Kate led them into another room, Robin posed another question for her. “Hey, why’d you pick me? I mean, I’m honored, but I’m confused as to why you picked me over—” Steve. “I don’t know, like, anyone else?”

“Because you and I’ve always made a great team, Rob,” Kate answered, scanning the area she shined with her flashlight. “We translated a Russian code even though neither of us spoke Russian, remember?”

“And as convincing as that sounds, I am one hundred percent sure that is not the case.”

 Kate turned back to look at Robin and gave her a questionable look. “What d’you mean?”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to get murdered inside of this house too. “As incredible of a team we make, you and I both know you picked me before someone else could pick you.”

She stopped in her tracks, sighing softly. “That’s not… true.”

Robin took a step closer to her, almost as if she were scared to get too close. “I know it’s difficult for you to accept, but he, very obviously, still has feelings for you. A lot of them. I mean, we all saw you guys this morning—”

“You all saw it?” She gave a nod, trying to fight her smile. “Yeah, we all saw you two snuggled up in each other adorably, so don’t even try to deny you don’t still have feelings for him too. I know you. Both of you, and you both are driving me insane with your inability to communicate with one another. You’re just being stubborn because you don’t want to admit you were wrong for breaking up with him, and he’s scared to bring it up because he doesn’t want to lose you again, so please, for my sake, talk to him. You have no idea what I’ve been through to get him to where he is now. I can’t handle another month of this shit, never mind the rest of my life. It’s actually starting to kill me.”

Kate didn’t know what to say to Robin. She hadn’t realized that the lack of her and Steve’s relationship was affecting her friends too, but she should have known better. Of course Robin was tired of it. Considering how disappointed Robin had been with her for the months after she’d done it, even if she hadn’t admitted it to her directly, she could only imagine what it had been like dealing with them both for months on end.

All of it only made her think of Steve again. Yesterday when he’d said that he still cared about her even if she hated herself. Last night when they’d fallen asleep next to each other and inevitably ended up tangled in one another. When they had nearly kissed and she’d been the one to fuck it up. She wished now more than anything that she wouldn’t have pulled away. That she wouldn’t have gotten scared. Their lips had been so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him; Kate could still imagine it even now. She wished she would have just closed the gap sooner, just before something could have distracted them.

Kate knew, however, that none of that would have been fair to Steve. She’d been the one to cut things off with him. Considering he’d gone out with so many girls in the past couple of months that Robin couldn’t begin to keep up with them, Kate didn’t think Steve was ready to settle down again, especially not with the very girl that had broken up with him. If anything, he was just dating around for fun now. No matter how she felt about him, he had very obviously moved on from her. Steve probably wouldn’t get back with her now even if she begged him to. Even if she wanted more than anything to be with him again, she couldn’t curse him with her troubles. Not again.

“Kate?”

With the call of her name, she shook her head to try and pull herself out of her thoughts. Kate started walking again, her flashlight illuminating her path. “Let’s keep going, okay? I hate this fucking house.”

When Robin followed behind her, this time she didn’t ask any questions, especially not about the boy that was just down the hall from them. Steve, on the other hand, was only wishing he would have spoken up before he was paired up with Dustin.

It wasn’t like he was stuck with him or anything. He loved Dustin despite the fact that the kid had started loving Eddie Munson more than him. Even though under normal circumstances he would love spending time with Dustin, none of that would make up for the fact that he could have been alone with Kate right now.

He knew he should have been focused on the task at hand, but he couldn’t help but want to talk to her despite everything else going on. How could he not? Their late-night conversation was progress in their relationship. He wanted to talk to her about how he could help her, ask her what he could do to help her. More than anything, he wanted to ask her about that damn kiss. Well, the non-kiss, the close-to-a-kiss, really, but it had still happened. Part of him thought he had dreamt it, but her avoidance of him since they’d woken up that morning told him otherwise. He knew he couldn’t have been the only one that felt the chemistry between them last night, even if it was only for a second.

Steve had replayed that moment in his head so many times he could hardly keep it straight anymore. He could still feel her face in his hand, her hair against his skin. God, he wished he would have been quicker. Nearly kissing her was the closest he’d felt to right since she’d dumped him.

Part of him thought to accept it as a fluke. She’d been upset and had been swept up in the emotion of it all. The other part of him, though, knew that there must have still been something between them. He hoped for that, anyway. Kate was a straight forward enough girl—if she didn’t still feel at least something for him, wouldn’t she have just pushed him away and called him a presumptuous asshole? That was why he wanted to talk to her. Needed to talk to her as soon as possible. He couldn’t just give up on her now if there was a fraction of a chance that she still felt the same way she had about him before.

For that reason alone, he hated that he was partnered with Dustin.

“I get why you freaked out about Nancy the other day now,” Dustin finally said, breaking the silence between them.

Steve gave him a confused look whenever he turned to look at him. “What?”

“You know, the other day when you lost your shit because she was going alone somewhere?” he elaborated. “She was the only girl you ever really liked other than Kate. You were just projecting about—”

“What? No, that’s not—” Steve cut himself off to try and collect himself. If he got flustered, that would only make things worse. “It’s not… like that.”

“Yeah? Well, it certainly looked like that this morning.”

“It’s not that simple, Henderson,” Steve warned. He didn’t want to talk about it with him, of all people.

“Of course not. Because things have always been so simple between you and Kate.”

“Will you shut up about Kathy, please?” he whispered somewhat harshly. “You’re being… We broke up months ago, why would I—” He cut himself off to sigh. “For your information, I’ve gone out with other girls since then, okay? A lot of them, and—”

“And none of them have even held a candle to her, have they?”

That was what hurt even more. Dustin was right: even Nancy hadn’t ever been close to what Kate had been for him. Even if she was still broken, still a husk of the girl she used to be, he still loved her. He didn’t care how she was or how she acted—he would love every form of her. He hadn’t even minded all that much when she’d pulled a gun on him again on instinct, almost hesitating to drop it whenever she finally realized who she was pointing it at. He hadn’t minded her shutting him out, only because he knew she had probably wanted the space to grieve. He hadn’t minded whenever she’d dumped him only because he’d thought that she needed to be alone in the city, maybe just for a bit of time while she sorted her thoughts. He hadn’t nor wouldn’t mind anything that she would throw at him because she was Kate. He wished more than anything that he could make everything better for her, to tell her that he loved her and make all of her pain go away, but he knew he couldn’t. Kate had pushed him away, and for now, the best he could do was push back. All he could do was be there for her as best he could—that or keep the kids from bothering her too much.

“Hey, uh, Henderson?” he finally asked to break the silence again, following him into what had presumably been a bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“Could you maybe, uh… clarify what sort of clues we’re supposed to be looking for here?”

Dustin stopped in his tracks, not turning to look at Steve as he spoke in a posh British accent. “The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.” Dustin turned around to look at Steve with a smile, which he immediately dropped whenever Steve gave him a confused look. “Sherlock Holmes.” Dustin scoffed and walked away whenever Steve’s expression didn’t change.

“That’s great,” Steve finally said, walking in the direction opposite of him and moving toward the bathroom. “Thanks. That’s great. Really helpful.” Whenever Dustin was far enough away, he mumbled to himself, “Sherlock…”

He shined his flashlight over the vent in the floor, something inside of the vent reflecting the light back to him. Curiosity got the best of him, and he kneeled down next to it and pulled the cover off of the vent before reaching his hand down to grab one of the many jars at the bottom of it.

Steve didn’t know what to think of the jar he’d picked up: leaves filled the bottom of it, and a spider lay dead on some of the sticks that were inside of the jar, cobwebs dusting the leafless limbs. He started to set it back down into the vent when he felt something crawling on him, turning to find a spider on his shoulder.

He jumped back quickly and dropped the jar on the tile floor, gasping as he tried to brush the black widow off of himself frantically. He ran backward into the hallway, walking through the entrance of the bathroom and more cobwebs. He didn’t even notice how they completely covered his hair as he tried to brush the spider off of himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Kate breathed out, jumping as Steve manically continued to brush himself off in front of her—he’d almost collided with her in the hallway. “Wh–What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“There was a spider,” he said softly, still rubbing his hand against his arm to make sure it was gone. He almost sounded out of breath as he spoke. “It was a black widow.” Whenever he turned around, shining his flashlight in front of him, he quickly closed the bathroom door. “Don’t go in there.”

“Okay? Oh, shit,” Kate responded, finally seeing the mess of cobwebs that he’d gotten into his hair. She’d tried pulling some of them out of his hair, but Steve ran his fingers through it, starting to move forward as if he were trying to walk away from her in worry. “Wait, just…”

“What?” Steve said as he walked in front of a dusty mirror with his voice still panicked. “Something? Shit. O–Okay.”

“Wait. Stop moving!” she said, making him stop in front of the mirror and stop attempting to pull the cobwebs out of his own hair. “Stop. I just… I got it. I got it. Just stand still for a sec, okay? Don’t move.”

He hesitated, pressing his lips together awkwardly. This hadn’t been what he meant by wanting to be alone with her. “Thank you.”

“If there’s a spider nesting in there, you’re never gonna find it til it lays eggs and all the babies spill out,” Robin said evasively from down the hall, trying her best to freak Steve out further.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve asked as Kate pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. 

Robin only chuckled in response.

“Robin, seriously!” Whenever her fingers ran against his scalp, Steve turned his head back so Kate could start pulling at the cobwebs again. She tried her best to not start laughing, pressing her lips together tightly. “She’s got problems.”

“I don’t know, she might be right. We might have to shave your head.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “No, I’m serious. This is, like… bad. Really bad. I–I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to get all of this out without at least cutting a good bit of your hair off. You’re gonna have to start all over by the looks of it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m probably gonna have to buzz it when we get back,” she said without wavering.

“Kathy, that’s not funny, okay? Seriously.”

“To you,” she said, trying to stop her chuckling. Whenever he didn’t reply to her, she sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. The fact that you’re panicking this much over your hair is hilarious, by the way.”

“Do you… Do you both just enjoy torturing me or something?” he asked somewhat bitterly.

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s just…” She stifled a laugh. “You’re just really particular about your hair. You always have been. I mean, the fact that this happened to you over anyone in this house right now? It just makes you an easy target.”

He scoffed and almost ran his hands through his hair, but he stopped himself. “Easy target, my ass. Admit it. You two just like watching me suffer.”

She smiled, pressing her lips together. “So, are you still freaking out?”

Steve hesitated to respond to her. He might have still been a bit freaked out that she had proposed to shave his head, but that was beside the point. Because of that, he decided he needed to change the subject so he wouldn’t give himself a heart attack. “You know, speaking of you and Robin, it’s cool you two still talk. That you’re, like… I don’t know, still friends.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I don’t know, I just… You stopped talking to me, so I figured you would—” He cut himself off. Things were different with him, and he should have known that by now. “You know, maybe after we find Vecna, kill him… you know, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something. You know, like old times.” Steve turned to the side, almost as if he were trying to see her to gauge her reaction. “You know? Me, you, Robin, Nance if she’s down. Jonathan when he’s back.” Steve hesitated to go on, almost as if he were waiting on her response.

“Yeah, maybe you could bring one of those girls you’ve been going out with,” Kate said nonchalantly. She hadn’t meant it as a dig and rather as a serious statement, but she wanted to slap herself after she’d said it. That was definitely not how he was going to take that.

“It’s not like we’re dating. Me and—I’m not dating any of them. Not really. And I haven’t slept with any of them either. None of ‘em are like, uh… Ro–Robin told you? Right? And I’m not dating Robin either, so—”

“Yeah, I know,” Kate said softly, still picking the cobwebs out of his hair as she tried not to smile at his nervous rambling. “That’s… very obvious. I think I have a better chance with her than you do.”

“Platonic with a capital P!” Robin said from down the hall where she still lingered close by.

“Yep. Thank you,” Steve said loud enough for Robin to hear.

Robin put a thumb up in response, still looking away from the two of them as she continued to investigate the hallway (but also eavesdrop on their conversation).

“Seriously, though, I’m not… those girls don’t matter. Most of the dates I’ve gone on have been pretty shit. I mean, I’ve only gone on so many dates because none of them are right for me, you know? None of them are—” He cut himself off to sigh. You. “They’re just not… None of them right for me, okay?”

“Wait, so you seriously haven’t… slept with any of them?” Kate asked. She found that somewhat hard to believe considering his track record before dating Nancy.

“Not a one.” He chuckled sadly. “I’ve barely liked any of them enough to warrant much more than kissing them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If I don’t like them enough to screw around with ‘em, I’m certainly not gonna bring them around you. O–Or, you know, any of my friends.”

She tried to ignore the way her heart was beating in her chest. “Hm. Okay. So just you, me, Rob, Nance, and Jon, then, after we save the world and stuff, is your request?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I just—I don’t only want to see you when the world’s about to end, you know?” He paused, almost as if he was hesitating to go on. “I miss you.”

Kate pressed her lips together again for a moment, almost as if she were thinking about how to word something. “Maybe… Maybe you could come visit sometime, or something. Rob, too, obviously. Get you guys out of Hawkins for a while and come see the city.”

“Just us?”

“I mean, yeah, until I get an apartment next semester. Pretty sure it would be real tight if much more than you two came to visit. I mean, you and Rob at the same time is already pushing it. You might have to sleep on my desk.”

He chuckled.

“But I’m serious. I think that’d be really great if you, uh… if you came to visit.”

He smiled. “I’ll consider it.”

She pulled the last cobweb out of his hair, then took a deep breath as she tried to suppress her smile. “Okay, your hair’s been saved. No buzzcut needed.”

He fluffed it out in the back once, then turned around to look back at her. “Great. Thanks.” He chuckled before taking a step closer to her. “Well… Great. Um…” He stared back at her awkwardly, almost not knowing what to say. If Robin hadn’t been so close by and probably eavesdropping, maybe he would finish the job he’d started last night. After all that, though, he knew that right now wasn’t the time. “Guess we should, uh… get back to the investigation.”

Kate nodded in response, pressing her lips together still.

“The obvious things are not what… people… observe. Or do—don’t observe. Or…” He racked his brain to try and remember what the hell Dustin had said to him only five minutes ago. When Kate gave him a confused look, he stopped as to not make even more of a fool out of himself, nodding once. “Sherlock Holmes.”

Kate couldn’t help but smile at him as he walked away, almost dumbstruck before she walked toward Robin. “What?”

And once again, Kate couldn’t help but smile because of the antics of the boy just down the hall from her.

next chapter

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“Done.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Tommy said while pointing at Steve. “You have to date her for a month.”

Steve felt his heart drop. He knew he was a dick, but he wouldn't want to string someone along like that.

“Tommy, that's a little-”

“What's wrong king Steve? Scared you might break her wittle heart?” He said with a fake pout.

Yes.

“No, I'm not scared of that. As a matter of fact, I’ll date her for three months.”

Steve didn't bother listening to what the group had to say as he made his way over to you. There was a tiny voice in his head pleading, begging him to stop. To just leave you alone, cause you really are a nice girl who doesn't deserve any of this. Steve has had a conversation with you before and you've touched his heart with how genuine you are. He plops down in the seat in front of you and taps in your textbook gently.

You look up at him and smile, taking off the headphones to your walkman and pressing pause.

“Hi, Steve!”

“Hey, there pretty girl, what are you doing?”

You blushed at the nickname and pushed your notes towards him.

“Just studying, I have a math exam tomorrow so I'm cramming as much as I can.”

Steve hummed and looked over your notes trying his best to avoid eye contact with you.

“So I’m guessing you're studying tonight too?”

You nodded your head and flipped the pencil that was in your hand.

“Why what's up?”

“I wanted to take you on a date.”

You accidentally flung the pencil at him, apologizing multiple times while you scrambled to grab it.

“Like um, like a study date?”

“I was hoping we could go without the books? Just us two.”

You blushed and started biting your lip as you thought about it. Steve wanted to stop and come clean right there. He's never seen you this excited over anything before, and it breaks his heart knowing it's all a bet.

“Sure, I can put off studying tonight and hang out.”

Steve smiled at you. “Great! I'll pick you up at…seven?”

“Perfect! I'll see you then.”

Steve smiled and got up to leave, but not before he gave you a soft kiss on your cheek. He walked back to the lunch table with his chest slightly pumped out as his friends looked at him, their faces asking how it went.

“Sorry I can't hang out tonight boys, I have a date.”

-

The two-month mark hit before Steve realized that he doesn't want to end the relationship in three months. These past two months have been the best for Steve and he's never been so happy. He began to treat this like it was a real relationship, Tommy and his friends still poke fun at him. They tell him that he can call it off now and Tommy will even pay him cause he's starting to blow them off to spend time with you. Steve just laughs and shakes his head telling him that he's really dedicated to this bet.

Before you know it, months turn into years and Steve drops his shitty friends and loses his king Steve title to Billy. Now, usually, this would've upset Steve but now he has you. He doesn't have to worry about his friends slipping up and saying you're just a bet. He doesn't have to hear the mean and inappropriate things they say about you, and now he can spend all his time with you.

There was a little period where you guys split up. It was six months into the relationship and the guilt started eating Steve away. It never occurred to him that Tommy could ruin the relationship in a split second, they didn't have the most mutual fallout that friends usually had. Steve started feeling like everything was a lie, he felt like loving you was a lie, it was his favorite lie, but a lie nonetheless. He was the one to call it off, it lasted for a month but it was the worst month in Steve's entire life. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, and he missed about a week's worth of school. It wasn't until you knocked on his front door, a stack of school work in your arms that he finally felt complete.

Apologies began spilling from his mouth and tears were falling down his cheeks. You forgave him of course. You always forgive Steve for what he's done. He didn't feel the need to bring up the bet at all once you guys got back together. He figured that since he's the one who broke things and got back together with you, you guys had a clean slate. Sure, you still had the same anniversary date but that's not what mattered! What mattered is that you and Steve were officially back together and nothing could ruin that.

Today was your second anniversary with Steve and you were both so excited. Everything was going perfectly between you two and you felt like nothing could ruin it. You were taking a walk around town after you two had an amazing dinner at Enzo’s. You stopped in your tracks telling Steve you had to use the restroom real quick. You kiss him on his cheek and walk into the nearest store you could find. Steve looks around and sees an old couple holding hands and walking into the movie theatre, he smiles as he starts to think of his future with you.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you Harrington?”

Steve whips his head around and sees Tommy making his way toward him. He gives his old friend a tight-lipped smile and crosses his arms against his chest.

“In the flesh.”

Tommy laughs and stands in front of him. “How have you been, man? It's been a while.”

Steve makes small talk with Tommy, but he can't help but notice that he has this gut feeling that something terribly wrong is going to happen. He feels your hands wrap around his upper arm and he sees the look of shock on Tommy’s face when he realizes it's you.

“You're still with y/n?”

You roll your eyes. “Nice to see you too Tommy.”

Tommy smirks and looks at Steve.

“Does she know?”

You look between the two of them with a confused facial expression.

“Know what?”

“Shut up Tommy.”

“I mean what, how long have you guys even been together? You were supposed to stop at three months, Steve.”

Your heart fell to your stomach and your hands dropped from Steve’s arms. No, there's no way Tommy meant what he was saying. This has to be some kind of sick joke, right? Your eyes drift to Steve and you can see every emotion on his face clear as day.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Tommy chuckles but covers it with a cough. “Guess the cats out of the bag.”

You're not one to turn to violence, if anything you're the last person to throw the first punch, but you've never felt so hurt, so betrayed in your entire life. Before you know it your hand is connected to Tommy’s cheek and a loud smack is heard, people stop and stare at the scene before then mumbling things under their breath. Hot tears are streaming down your face and you snatch your hand away when you feel Steve grab for you.

“Don't!” you shout at him. “Don't touch me. We're done.”

You don't even give Steve a second to explain himself cause you're already walking away from him trying to put as much distance between yourself as possible. You usually love Steve and his stubbornness, but right now you wish he'd stop chasing you.

“Y/n! Wait I can explain-”

“Explain what Steve?! How our relationship started off as a bet? Seems like there's nothing to explain there!”

You feel Steve grab your arm and you try to fight him off but you're just too sad to do anything.

“That's not true-”

“Do you even love me, Steve? Or was that some kind of sick game too?”

Steve’s heart broke when he finally got a good look at you. You had tears streaming down your face and fire behind your eyes.

“Of course I love you-”

“Bullshit!” You shouted while urging your arm away.

Steve flinched at the all too familiar word and shook his head trying to fight back tears.

“It's not. It's not-”

“Yes, it is Steve! This whole relationship is bullshit! I've been living a lie for years by thinking you loved me!”

“I do love you! You think I’d stay with you for that long if I didn't?!”

Both of you were shouting at this point and people were starting to stop and stare. Anger fueled both of you and you both didn't care what was being said to the other person.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

“I should've never taken the god damn bet, it would've saved me a lot of trouble.” he didn't mean that, not one bit.

You let out a bitter laugh and shook your head. “Nancy was right, you're bullshit. I never want to see you again.”

“Fine by me.”

-

It's been three weeks since you and Steve had your big fight and to say you were both miserable was a massive understatement. Robin and Nancy would drop by to check in on you and bring you some food. They tried their best to cheer you up but weren't successful.

“So is this like a divorced parent situation?”

Nancy smacked her arm and smiled at you. “Don't listen to her.”

“I'm asking the real questions here!”

You dipped your sad, soggy fry into ketchup and ate it.

“If you're asking me if I'm making you choose sides I'm not.”

Robin smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

You let out a giggle and rolled your eyes making robin gasp and coo at you.

“There she is!!” she exclaimed while wrapping her arms around you in a hug. Nancy melted at the sight and joined in on the hug. Tears began to form as you hugged them both tighter.

“Thank you guys, for everything.”

“Y/n you don't have to thank us,” Nancy said while pulling away and fixing your hair. “We'll always be here for you.”

Robin’s watch beeped and let out a sigh. “Except, for now, we have Steve duty, Nance.

You looked down at your now cold food and cleared your throat. “Is he okay?”

Nancy and robin looked at each other before looking back at you. “You can come with us and find out.”

-

Your heart was pounding as you sat in the backseat of Nancy’s car, you don't know what came over you or what made you want to see Steve. Nancy parked the car and Robin was quick to jump out.

“Nance? Aren't you coming too?” You asked before stepping out of the car.

Nancy shook her head. “Feels a bit awkward helping my ex through a breakup ya know?”

You smiled understanding what she meant and thanked her for the ride. You follow Robin to his front door and you start to feel sick to your stomach. Your hands were getting clammy and if you didn't lean against the other door you're pretty sure you would've fallen by now from how weak your knees felt.

“Crap, I left something in Nance’s car. Stay here real quick I already knocked and everything.” Robin said while running towards the car.

You were too lost in your head to register what she said. You looked up at her and noticed she got back into the car and buckled up. Realization begins to set in and you stand up straight looking at your best friends with wide eyes.

“YOU GOT THIS KID!” Robin shouted.

“I’M SORRY Y/N SHE MADE ME!” Nancy shouted while speeding off.

Bitches, but I love them. You thought to yourself. Time seemed to stop the minute Steve opened his front door.

“Robin, I told you I'm- oh.”

Oh? Oh?? What does he mean by that?!

There was only one thing that was running through Steve’s mind when he saw it was you at the door. You're wearing his yellow sweater.

“I uh, I just wanted to check on you…I guess,” you mumbled while looking down at your feet.

“You still have my sweater?”

Your eyes met his and it took every fiber in your body to not wipe away the stray tears that were stained on his face. You shrugged your shoulders.

“Smells like you.”

He gave you a sad smile. “I use your shirt as a pillowcase.”

“Can I come in?”

Steve didn't waste any time stepping aside and letting you into his family home. You sat on his couch and looked at him, your heart jumping when you saw he was smiling at you.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Harrington I’m still furious with you.”

Steve nodded his head. “Understandably so, but you can't be mad at me for being happy that the girl I love is still wearing my sweater.”

You quickly look down trying to hide the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks. You cleared your throat and fumbled with your fingers.

“I came here to talk. At least I think I did.”

Steve makes his way to the couch, he points to the spot next to you silently asking if he could have a seat there. You nod your head and refuse to make eye contact with him fearing you'll cry on the spot.

“Was everything Tommy said true?”

He nodded his head.

“I need you to be honest with me Steve, were you ever going to tell me?”

Steve sat and thought for a moment. He never really thought about telling you, sure there were moments he wanted to but he could never bring himself to do it.

“I don't know.”

“Is that you broke up with me? Cause of the bet?”

“No! God no, I mean technically yes but it wasn't because the bet was up.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Look, I'm going, to be honest with you. I never wanted to ask you out, not like that at least, and I know it's not a good excuse but being the king of Hawkins high I had so much pressure on me. My mom and dad never really cared for me, so I found comfort in assholes like Tommy and Carol but even they didn't care about me.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I never should've asked you out like that,” he whispered. “you didn't deserve that, no one does but especially you y/n. I broke up with you that day because it was getting too much for me. I was tired of living a lie, but god y/n please don't think that for a second I didn't love you. I love you with all my heart and no bet is going to change that.”

Both of you were crying now. You were quick to pull Steve into a hug and cry into his shoulder. You hated this. You absolutely hated Tommy for making Steve take that stupid bet, you hated his parents for not paying enough attention to him, and you hated that Steve surrounded himself with fake friends just so he could feel an ounce of love and affection. Steve was mumbling how sorry he was over and over again. He understands if this is the one time you can't forgive him, but he's praying to whatever greater power is out there that you do.

You pull away from him and wipe his tears away with gentle hands. He leans into your touch trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“I'm sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn't have called you bullshit.”

“You had every right to.”

“Doesn't mean I should have.”

Steve’s hands reach up to your face and he gently strokes your cheek.

“I'm so sorry for hurting you.”

You take a deep sigh and lose your eyes trying to figure out what to say next. You still love Steve, and you know you always will but how were you supposed to just openly trust him again? Especially after something like that.

“I think,” you started. “I think we should start over. Brand new clean slate, you know take it slow.”

Steve swears he would've fallen to his knees if he wasn't sitting on the couch with you.

“Really? You mean that?”

“I do, but I’m serious about taking it slow Steve.”

Steve smiles and brings you in for a tight hug. You feel his tears hit the top of your head and you can almost feel his heart beating through his chest.

“I'll go as slow as you want. I don't care, I just want to be with you.”

You let out a giggle and Steve swooned at the sound of it. He swears he's never heard something more beautiful than your giggle.

“This is your last chance, Harrington. Don't mess it up.”

His hold on you tightens, almost as if he's scared you'll disappear any second.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he said while kissing you on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, Steve finally felt like he could breathe. The weight of the world was off his shoulders and it was all thanks to you.

“Robin is going to be so happy about this,” you said with a chuckle.

some days you’re fine and other day, you stand at the kitchen window staring at the shed in the backyard where a tunnel entrance used to be... now just a concrete patch under a tarp... and wait for the superpower girl to step out like nothing happened.

you never tell steve when the ache over eleven hits hardest, since he carries enough. what el was to you was what dustin is to steve. yet, you lost that child before you could birth your actual one.

today, steve out with dustin, lucas, max, and robin.

robin and vickie broke up three weeks ago. honestly, their relationship after vecna's defeat was messy, codependent, and the kind of one that leaves both people hollowed out.

today, your bestfriend had a bad day in terms of grieving her breakup, so she asked for a distraction.

the crew piled into steve’s new (used) bronco to go eat greasy burgers and arcade games.

you wanted to go, truly, but your body vetoed the idea. your body had swollen ankles, experienced braxton hicks that feel like iron bands around your middle, and a bone-deep exhaustion that makes even walking to the mailbox feel heroic.

so you’re home alone, sprawled sideways on the couch in one of steve’s old hawkins high swim team t-shirts (the only thing that still fits over your belly), watching full house.

the laugh track swells as danny tanner delivers another corny life lesson, and you smile despite yourself. you love this show... it something light, new, and something normal that describes a family that also had traumatic experiences to overcome.

as a laugh track plays on the sitocom, another braxton hicks contraction rolls through your body. it isfamiliar now. you breathe slow, in through the nose, out through the mouth, hand rubbing circles over the hard knot of your uterus.

“easy, kiddo,” you murmur, “mama’s tired.”

it passes then another comes minutes later. it is sharper, lower, and radiating down your thighs. you pause the vcr, and sit up a little straighter since that one didn’t feel like practice.

before you can overthink it, a sudden warm gush soaks the couch cushion beneath you and your grey sweatshorts. it is your water, clear fluid, tinged faintly pink, spreading fast.

panic flares throughout your body since you’re alone and steve is god-knows-where with the kids.

you fumble for the phone on the side table, hands shaking as you dial the only number you know by heart that is not this current phone... hopper’s cabin.

it rings twice before,

“hopper-byers residence,” joyce answers, breathless like she’s been cleaning.

“joyce,” you say, and your voice cracks on her name, “its y/n, and my water just broke.”

a beat of stunned silence, then pure joy, “oh my god, the baby girl is coming! she’s coming soon!”

you laugh, but it’s watery, “yeah, but um.... steve’s out with robin and dustin and some of the others.... i don’t know where he is though.”

joyce’s tone shifts instantly since it becomes more maternal, and commanding, "wait- you’re alone? okay, okay... do not move! i’m coming right now. will! grab your shoes!”

you hear muffled shouting in the background, and will’s voice rising in surprise in the back.

“joyce, i’m okay,” you try, but another contraction grips you, stealing your breath. you lean forward, gripping the armrest, “they’re… about five minutes apart.”

“five minutes? honey, stay put. we’re ten minutes away. deep breaths. i’m on my way.”

the line clicks dead.

you set the receiver down carefully, both hands on your belly now.

“okay, little one,” you whisper, hoping that will make the contraction less painful if you speak to your baby.

the next contraction hits at four minutes and forty-five seconds long. you time it on the vcr clock, breathing through it like the lamaze classes taught you.

the front door bursts open ten minutes later with no knock, just joyce and will tumbling in, joyce’s hair wild, keys still in her hand.

“we’re here!” she announces, slightly out of breath. will’s eyes are huge behind her.

“hospital bags—bedroom?” will asks.

“closet, top shelf,” you manage, standing slowly as another contraction starts to build. joyce is at your side in an instant, hand on your lower back, rubbing firm circles.

“breathe, sweetheart. in through the nose—good, out slow. you’re doing great!”

will disappears down the hall, reappearing with both of your duffels and the car seat steve set up weeks ago.

the next contraction lasts a full minute, sharp enough to make you grip the kitchen counter, forehead pressed to the cool formica. joyce times it on her watch.

“sixty seconds,” she says quietly, “it is active labor. we’re going now!”

in the car, the drive is a blur of discomfort and joyce’s steady voice. she’s doing forty in a twenty-five, one hand on the wheel, with the other reaching back to squeeze your knee at red lights. will sits in the back seat white-knuckled, staring out the window like he’s reliving every frantic drive from years past.

“almost there,” joyce keeps saying, “deep breaths, honey. you’re doing so good.”

you hiss through another contraction, sweat beading on your forehead, “tell that to my cervix.”

she laughs, stressed but genuine, “i will, promise.”

joyce pulls up directly in front of the ER doors with her hazards flashing. nurse kelly... your favorite from all the prenatal visits and the one who basically opened up the can of worms about your pregnancy, spots you immediately and jogs out with a wheelchair.

another nurse takes the bags from will’s arms.

joyce turns to him, hand on his cheek, “go take the car, then find steve. at enzos, the arcade, that shitty breakfast for dinner diner, wherever those kids dragged him... bring him here!”

will nods and he looks serious, “got it.”

he runs off as you’re wheeled inside, joyce hurrying alongside with her hand never leaving yours.

they get you into a delivery room fast with a gown on, iv started, and monitors beeping the baby’s strong heartbeat.

dr. may, your ob, calm and kind as ever, comes in and checks you with gentle efficiency.

“five centimeters,” she says, smiling, “good progress. we’ve got time.... also epidural if you want it?”

“yes, please,” you say without hesitation.

the anesthesiologist is quick and relief washes in slow waves as the medicine takes hold. the sharp contractions slowly turn into pressure instead of pain.

joyce settles into the chair beside you, holding your hand.

“will’s on steve duty. he’ll find him.”

you nod, exhausted but grateful. you have no parents of your own... no one to call who would drop everything like joyce just did. she’s become the closest thing to a mother you’ve ever had in the last two years.

two hours slide by in a nice conversation with joyce talking about will’s junior year ending, his college applications, how proud she is. you like the distraction, since it helps you you drift in and out with the monitors beeping steady.

after joyce finishes her conversation about jonathan committing to NYU, the door bangs open.

steve stumbles in first, with his hair all wild from wind and eyes panicked, still in the same backwards cap and dark hoodie from this morning.

robin’s right behind him, breathless.

“i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry,” steve rushes out, crossing the room in three strides, “we were at the stupid arcade—dustin insisted—”

you try to sit up but steve gently presses you back down, one hand immediately going to your belly, the other cupping your face, “i’m here. i’m here now.”

robin leans over the bed rail, grinning despite the worry in her eyes.

“everyone’s in the lobby going nuts... it is funny because lucas and max owe dustin twenty bucks because he swore you’d go into labor tonight.”

you laugh, with your eyes watery and relieved, “where did will find you guys?”

“arcade,” steve says, rolling his eyes, “every restaurant was booked solid. lucas and max were making out in the corner of the arcade, dustin and robin were dominating galaga, and i was losing at pac-man. classic.”

you’re still giggling when dr. may returns, gloving up her hands again, “hello again, y/n. let’s see where we are.”

she checks, eyes lighting as she inspects, “ten centimeters. fully effaced.... it’s time.”

joyce and robin hug you quick, whispering encouragements, then file out to the waiting room.

steve stays.

he pulls the stool close, before deciding to ditch it and fully stand by your stand with both hands wrapped around yours.

“you’ve got this,” he whispers, forehead pressed the top of your head, “i’m right here.”

the next hour is long, hard, transformative.

dr. may is calm and steady as the doula guiding your breathing. the other two nurses adjust monitors and one (who is clearly out of residency) offers ice chips.

steve never lets go of your hand. he counts with you through pushes, tells you you’re strong, you’re amazing, and that you’re doing everything perfect. sweat beads on his forehead too and his voice cracks once when you cry out in exhaustion.

the sun has fully set outside the window, the room lit by soft fluorescent glow when dr. may says, “one more big push—i see her head.”

you bear down with everything left in you as a slippery, warm weight slides free, and with that a sharp, indignant cry fills the room.

dr. may suctions her mouth gently to clear the fluid before she places the baby... a tiny, perfect baby with fists flailing... directly on your chest.

your daughter.

you stare at her in stunned silence, tears streaming sideways into your hair. she’s crying and wrinkled and absolutely beautiful with a shock of dark hair plastered to her head. the newborn's eyes are squeezed shut against the bright world.

steve makes a choked sound beside you... it is a half laugh, yet a full crying sob. the man's hand trembles as he reaches out, fingers brushing her tiny back.

“hi, baby girl,” he whispers, voice breaking, “hi baby!”

she quiets at his voice, rooting instinctively against your skin as she takes in the environment outside of your body.

you look up at him, both of you crying openly now.

she looks just like you with your your nose, your mouth... but with steve’s eyes already peeking open, dark and curious.

this baby is your daughter.

yours and steve’s here, and safe, and loved beyond measure.

thirteen months pass with your 13 month old, janet marie harrington. she is pure sunshine wrapped in mischief. you chose the name carefully.... janet for her piece of identity, marie after steve's late maternal grandmother and your late paternal aunt who had the same name, and the quiet, unspoken nod to jane, or eleven, since jane covers four out of five of janet's letters.

to you, your daughter's name is a way to carry eleven forward without weighing your daughter down in any-way. it felt right the moment you whispered it in the delivery room once you saw her pretty face falling asleep.

one of steve’s tears fell onto her tiny forehead when he repeated it, almost understanding why you gave her that name.

janet is laughter in human form. she giggles at everything like the dog next door barking, the way steve fake-sneezes, the crinkle of a chip bag. the first six months she was daddy’s girl through and through since she would scrunch her whole face and cry if steve left the room.

he was obsessed from day one, carrying her in the baby carrier while mowing the lawn, singing her lullabies off-key, and taking a thousand polaroids when she went to sleep at night.

“look at her,” he’d say, voice cracking every time, “we just... we made this perfect little person.”

after everything... the upside down, the grief, the fear... he said janet healed something in him he didn’t know was broken.

for the last six months she’s been glued to you, and calling her a velcro baby doesn’t begin to cover it. if you step into the kitchen for water, she toddles and crawls after you with her bottom lip wobbling. if you go to the bathroom, she sits outside the door and pats it until you come out. it is almost like separation anxiety at its finest, but you secretly love it. she has your face with round cheeks, and a stubborn eyebrow, but she has steve’s thick, dark hair that sticks up in every direction and those gentle, almond-shaped eyes that melt you every time she looks up.

thankfully, she adores her aunts and uncles.

robin declared herself “gay auntie” which made you and steve burst out in laughter during the first time she held her, rocking janet while declaring, “i don’t want kids, but this one is exempt from all rules.” janet squeals every time robin walks in the door.

speaking of kids, today is a big day since it is the class of '89 graduation. dustin, lucas, max, mike, and will... your older kids as you think sometimes... are finally walking across that stage. nancy and jonathan flew in last night, robin drove from smith college last night into this morning. honestly, your house has been constant chaos with polaroid cameras, streamers, and janet’s excited babbling.

you dress your daughter first in a tiny blue velvet dress with white lace collar and little white bows on the sleeves. janet's hair is finally long enough for two little ponytails, each secured with a white rubber band and a bow. she looks like a doll, clapping her hands and laughing when you set her on the floor to admire her.

you take more effort with yourself, though. as janet plays with her toys in the living room, you put on black blazer with the dramatic 80s shoulder pads, a crisp white button-up underneath, black midi skirt, with black leggings, and low black heels. you haven’t dressed up like this in ages. after finishing your hair, you put on lipstick and even mascara. you want to look like you belong in the photos next to your beautiful daughter and your handsome fiancé.

steve walks into the bedroom holding janet on his hip, mid-sentence about how she just said “dada” clear as day. he stops dead when he sees you.

“holy shit,” he breathes, eyes raking over you, “you look… sexy as hell.”

heat rushes to your cheeks. he steps close, careful of janet, and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “how am I supposed to focus on anything at the graduation today when my girls look this good?”

you giggle, swatting his chest, “stop it.”

janet reaches for you, and you take her, kissing her chubby cheek and the phone rings at the same time.

you give sideways smile, before turning around and quickly heading to the phone in the kitchen, “hello?”

“y/n?” karen’s voice echos over the static with worry, “mike’s gone. he was supposed to be getting ready and he’s not here. the graduation starts in an hour... do you know where he is?”

your stomach drops, since you know exactly where mike is.

“yeah... um... I do. don't worry though, I'll find him,” you say calmly. before karen could ramble about mike's depression, you hang up and turn to steve, who’s already watching you with raised eyebrows.

“mike’s missing,” you explain, “but luckily i know where he is... keep janet," you say as you head towards the front door, "i’ll be fast.”

“woah, you know where he is?” steve asks, shifting janet to his other hip.

you turn around and nod while standing at the door, “he goes to the same place when he’s grieving.”

steve’s face softens with understanding and he walks up, kissing you quick before letting you twist the door handle, “be safe. we’ll save you seats.”

you’re out the door earlier than planned, and you know that since the may sun warms your shoulders quickly walking down the familiar route downtown. ten minutes later you’re at the little area beside the library, with the earthquake memorial gleaming in the afternoon light.... it is a simple stone plaque with names, flowers laid at the ground.

mike sits on the bench in front of it, elbows on his knees while staring at the ground. he’s in jeans and a striped burgundy shirt, with his graduation gown nowhere in sight.

you climb the three steps quietly, standing beside him for a moment before sitting.

“your mom is worried sick, mike,” you say gently, “i can’t say i blame her since you do have a special day today.”

he doesn’t look at you while talking about his mother, “she won’t understand. she’ll understand why i can’t do it… why i can’t walk the stage. it would be like a lie.”

you nod, folding your hands in your lap, “i understand.”

“do you?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes for the first time.

“i do,” you say softly, “you feel like crossing that stage and graduating means you’ll be moving on from el... and that it’ll be a betrayal... you think that walking means you’ll forget her, or that you’re not grieving properly if you do it.”

“yeah,” he whispers, “exactly.”

“but it means that i’m not okay with moving on,” he continues and his voice cracks at the thought of just thinking about it, “i’m just not.”

he looks at you with his eyes turning into a shade of pink, “i had this plan. me and el.... we were gonna go someplace far away where no one would find us. i told her about a place with three waterfalls.” he laughs, bitter and broken almost, “three waterfalls.... that’s so stupid. it was so childish.”

you swallow hard as you think about a past conversation with el from over two years ago, “yet she believed you.”

he turns to you and his eyes almost go wide from curiosity.

“she told me about what you had said,” you say quietly, “deep down, she wanted it.... but that... that wasn’t in her cards.”

“i know,” he whispers, “but i just didn’t think that she… that she—”

“hey,” you cut in gently, reaching out to touch his arm, “it’s not your fault. please don’t think for a second she didn’t want that life with you.”

a tear slips down your cheek but you don’t bother wiping it away.

“i looked after el since I met her at the mall three years ago,” you say, “I remember working and helping her try on new clothes with max, colorful ones that weren't just hoppers recycled plaid shirts. however, all I could recall was watching el light up over those blue and bright colors. she reminded me of wanda... my favorite comic character in a way. powerful, but always fighting for a normal life. i tried to give el that and you did too, mike.”

you pause, gathering yourself, “what happened will never be your fault. never mine, never anyone’s here.... only the people who hurt her from the day she was born. she made that choice so her abusers couldn’t hurt anyone else. she made that choice so we could be okay.”

mike’s crying openly now, shoulders shaking.

“she made that choice,” you continue, voice steady despite your own tears, “and now you need to make yours because that’s what she would’ve wanted. if anything, she did it to ensure we’d be okay from the same people who had hurt her.”

mike looks at you, eyes searching for anything else you might have to say.

“you don’t have to like it,” you say softly, “you don’t have to accept it and pretend to love it but you do need to stop the chain of ‘what could i have done differently’ and live the way she would’ve wanted you to.”

he breaks into a small, watery smile and you do too since you can feel the words of your voice calm the storms in mike's mind.

“go graduate, mike.”

mike nods, wiping his face with his striped sleeve and you both stand once you understood that this conversation is over... or at least postponed.

before ht graduation, mike nods at you before he turns around, jogging away to head home for his gown.

you the around in the opposite direction and walk to the high school with your heart lighter and the spring sun warm on your face. eleven will always be missed, you think. if anybody understood mike's pain, it was you. if there is a day that eleven could return, it won't be anytime soon.

at the school, you find steve in the middle of the line forming outside of the school gates. he has janet on his hip in her little blue dress, and robin beside them, wearing a pretty white shirt and blue overalls while grinning ear to ear.

steve spots you and lights up, robin does too when she observes your look, “there’s my girl.” your fiancé smiles.

janet squeals, reaching for you and you take her, kissing her soft cheek as you rested her on your strong hip.

robin snaps a photo of the baby and you smiling at eachother, “perfect timing, the ceremony starts in twenty!”

the twenty minutes passes before the ceremony started and continued in chaotic joy.

dustin, valedictorian (because of course he was), took the podium and delivered a speech that started as a tribute similar to to “when you meet people who are different from you, you get to learn more about yourself." which somehow ended with a chaotic scene from dustin which had steve jumping from his seat with joy. you’re pretty sure you heard dustin say “for eddie” under his breath at the end of his yelling while fighting with the principal, yet the entire senior section erupted in whoops and finger-guns to the sky.

somewhere in the ether, you know eddie munson was absolutely grinning ear to ear.

erica, on the opposite side of the normal guest seats, waited until dustin finished his speech before detonating a confetti cannon she’d kept next to her. orange and green paper exploded thirty feet in the air and rained down like hawkins had won the super bowl. the principal looked like he was calculating how many detentions one human could serve before they left graduation.

before that, mike arrived ten minutes late to his graduation, slipping into his seat tired but present. mrs wheeler, a row ahead of you, caught your eye across the crowd and gave you the smallest, most grateful nod.

you smiled back, squeezing steve’s hand.

mission accomplished.

janet, perched on steve’s lap in her blue velvet dress and tiny ponytails, clapped chubby hands every single time someone walked the stage, completely unaware she was witnessing history, only that there was music and colors and her favorite people were happy.

later, when the families had taken their photos and the parking lot had mostly emptied, nancy, jonathan, robin, steve, and you climbed the back fire escape to the roof of wsqk like you used to back during crawl missions.

someone (robin) had stolen a six-pack from the reception table while someone else (jonathan) had a joint in his pocket that he swore was “just for the sunset.” you stuck to a virgin shirley temple drink in a red solo cup because you were still breastfeeding and janet had opinions about caffeinated milk.

karen had insisted on taking janet for the evening after the graduation talking about “go be twenty-three for one night, you two deserve it.”since you were talking with Nancy in the parking lot of the school. so the baby was currently being spoiled rotten by your friend's mom who still couldn’t believe her middle child, mike, was a high school graduate.

on the roof, you all arranged lawn chairs in a loose circle with feet propped on the coolers, watching the sky turn cotton-candy pink and orange.

robin was the first to break the comfortable quiet.

“thinking of moving?” she asked, tilting her beer toward you and Steve as jonathan barked a laugh, “yeah! you two could come live with me in new york. i have a spare room. it’s only a little moldy..."

you burst out laughing louder than you meant to as steve flung an arm out dramatically toward the horizon, “come onnn! look at this place!” he whooshed dramatically, “the sunset! the view! wooo!”

nancy giggled into her beer and you rolled your eyes so hard janet would’ve been proud.

“you guys are seriously telling me you don’t miss any of this?” steve asked, wounded.

jonathan didn’t even hesitate, “mm… no.”

nancy and robin chimed in unison, “nope.”

“i wouldn’t either if i moved away,” you admitted, shrugging.

steve gasped like you’d stabbed him, “baby! there’s the forest, the quarry, family video, the hawk!”

he paced closer to the group, beer sloshing.

“no!” Jonathan laughed, “you couldn’t pay me a million bucks to come back,”

“you’d need less than a million, i’ll tell you that,” Steve muttered, “prices are way down. actually... y/n and i have been looking at this rad three-bedroom in forest hills.”

nancy and robin’s heads snapped toward you.

“three-bedroom, two-bath,” you confirmed, “it has a wrap-around porch, a huge backyard, we can’t quite afford it yet but we’re super close.... and that’s on a coach’s salary plus me commuting to fort wayne three days a week for dental school.”

jonathan’s brows shot up, “dental school?”

“dental hygiene,” you corrected, “but the starting pay in indiana right now is insane... they’re basically begging women to join the field. it has good benefits, and flexible hours since once janet’s in preschool. i’m into it.”

robin raised her cup, “don’t forget steve’s new side gig of being sex ed teacher too.”

nancy leaned forward, delighted in humor, “they have you teaching sex ed?”

“yes,” you said while trying not to laugh, “the one who became a dad at twenty-two.”

steve pointed his bottle at the group, “hey, we beat teen pregnancy and teen parenthood.”

“by, like, a few months!” you, robin, and nancy chorused.

robin wiped her eye dramatically, “if i ever have a question about an std, you’re the first person i’m calling.”

steve blinked, “thank you? but all jokes aside,” he continued, softer now, “i love it. teaching these kids about the miracle of life... and how to not start it accidentally.” robin opened her mouth, "like you did"

nancy and jonathan laugh as steve points at rob, "janet is the cutest accident ever, so shut up.”

you were laughing so hard too, that your sides hurt.

“and this time,” steve declared, “i control the grades!”

jonathan raised his beer, “hell, man, can you come teach at nyu?”

steve snorted, “what, so i can grade your movie about capitalism-cannibalism or whatever?”

“it’s anti-capitalist,” jonathan corrected while grinning, “the consumer. the more she eats, the hungrier she gets. it is a metaphor!”

you nodded thoughtfully after seeing the others be confused at jonathan's movie details, “wait... that makes perfect sense! it is never fulfilling the pleasure because you always need more.”

jonathan pointed at you triumphantly, “exactly! thank you, y/n!”

nancy beamed at him, then at you.

once you caught nancy's eye, you spoke up, “speaking of schools… how’s emerson, nance?”

the mood shifted, just a fraction.

nancy picked at the label on her bottle, “i… wouldn’t know.... um... i dropped out.”

four voices overlapped in shock.

“i knew it!” robin crowed, “you’re a navy SEAL now and y/n’s secretly cia and that’s why she has the fort wayne commute.”

you and nancy both laughed.

“no,” nancy said, “i took a trainee position at the indianapolis herald. it’s not glamorous, but… i was tired of school. i wanted to be in the real world with writing.... like... actually doing it.”

robin smiled as she admired the woman in the brown blazer, “nancy wheeler, still full of surprises.” this makes nancy laugh, “we have a mother in the group and you’re calling me surprising?”

you smile, “yeah… a mother to a very silly thirteen-month-old.”

“she gets the silliness from me,” robin said.

steve scoffed, “you say that like you’re the father.”

robin flipped steve off which made everyone laugh. after that, for a long moment, no one spoke. the wind picked up shortly, carrying the scent of honeysuckle from the woods below. the sky had gone lavender, with just five friends on a radio station roof, watching the last light of the day fade over the town that had tried so hard to kill them... and failed.

robin broke the silence, voice quieter than usual for her hyper demeanor, “you know… there is something i think i miss about hawkins.”

everyone all looked at her.

“i miss this,” she said simply, “just us. hanging out. i miss you guys.”

your throat tightened since you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear it until she said it. everyone agrees, since adulting took the time away from you guys too be together.

“i miss you guys too,” you admitted, looking at robin, nancy, jonathan. steve was beside you every day, so it felt different. with the others life had pulled them away, and monthly promises to visit never felt like enough.

nancy reached over and squeezed your hand as jonathan lifted his beer in a silent toast.

the sun slipped below the trees, and the first stars came out.

later, at home, the house is quiet and smells like baby shampoo and johnson’s lotion. janet is fresh from her bath, with her hair damp and curling at the ends, wearing footie pajamas with tiny strawberries. you rock her in the pink glider in her nursery, the one steve assembled at 2 am while cursing quietly under his breath the week before she was born.

she’s heavy on your chest, eyes drooping with one fist curled into your shirt. steve sits on the chair beside you, elbow on his knee, chin in his hand, watching her like she’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“you know,” he says softly, “we could have five more of these.”

you smile, sleepy and content as you try your best to hold in a giggle, “let’s wait until the nineties, please.”

he chuckles, “deal.” as you look back at your daughter, janet’s breathing evens out with her tiny sleeping breaths starting. you keep rocking, because you’re not ready to let go yet.

steve leans in, presses a kiss to your temple, then to the top of janet’s head.

“i love you,” he whispers—to both of you, you know, “i’ll always love you. i’ll always protect you. both of you. all of us.”

you turn your face into his shoulder, breathing his scent in, “i know.”

together you stand, careful not to wake her. you lay her in the crib, tuck her favorite stuffed d&d character plushie (a gift from uncle dustin) under her arm.

she sighs, smacks her lips once, and settles.

steve’s hand finds your lower backhand gently draws circles with his finger as you both stand there, watching her chest rise and fall.

“come on,” he murmurs, “let’s go to bed.”

you let him lead you out, pulling the door almost closed behind you.

the night-light glows soft pink and janet sleeps peacefully with no monsters, and no upside down... only the quiet, perfect peace of a life you never dared dream you’d get.

end of series.

thank you for ALL of the support for this fic. it means the universe to me and more. i am releasing another steve series, involving kids, very soon which I am excited for! thank you again, have a great morning afternoon or night whenever it is for you <3

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everyone is back at the wsqk radio station, and the faint static noise still comes from the equipment that was never turned off since the failure of the crawl. the group is a mix of exhaustion and fragile relief but the stress of what happened to holly still confuses everyone.

where did she go?

what is above the upside down?

your hand finds steve's, fingers intertwining and you feel his warm palm, calloused, against yours which keeps you calm in the tense environment.

lucas glances your way, with his chest still bandaged from the tunnel fight, and offers a small nod. he is wheeling max around the station, a place she has never been in before while the red-head looks around weakly, her eyes still glassy from the hospital meds vickie given her.

as some of the group disappear down the corridor, you tug steve's hand gently, leading him in the opposite direction toward one of the empty office rooms.

the station's layout is a maze of cluttered desks and faded posters, but this room is quieter, tucked away from the main lounge where the others are gathering.

"nance, i'll be right back," you call out over your shoulder, your voice steady despite the instability happening inside of your mind, nearly nervous about the next conversation that was needed with steve.

nancy looks up from where she's siting with jonathan on a couch, her eyes meeting yours with understanding.

"take your time," she says softly, and most the group nods.

yes, there was no time to chat about things other than vecna and whatever happened to holly. however, there was nobody who was going to tell you to postpone this needed conversation with steve.

before moving, you see hopper clapping jonathan once on the back and dustin standing up with a dry erase marker to already chat about the upside down's layout.

everyone knows this moment is yours, so they left you and steve be.

you push open the door, the hinges creak softly, and you step inside. the room is sparse with a dusty desk, a couple of chairs, and a window overlooking the hawkins daylight. you let steve step in before you close the door behind you.

afterwards, you lean against the door for a second, listening to the muffled voices from the lounge starting up with dustin's voice mainly outlining the next moves against vecna, with hopper's input.

they're distracted now.

you turn to face steve, your heart pounding so hard it echoes in your ears. he's standing there, just a few feet away, with his brown eyes locked on yours with a softness that steals your breath.

it's the way he's always looked at you... like you're the only thing in the world that matters, like he could stare forever and never get tired. now there's something deeper, a tenderness laced with wonder, with his gaze flicking down to your belly and back up full of unspoken questions, and a love so deeply rooted that it makes your chest ache.

tears prick at your eyes immediately as you stutter, "steve, I-i'm so sorry," you whisper, the words tumbling out in a rush, "i should've told you sooner. i wanted to, i swear, but—"

steve steps closer, his hands finding your waist gently, pulling you into him.

"hey, hey," he murmurs, voice low and soothing, "why? what happened?"

you swallow hard, leaning into his warmth.

"because of… you know. vecna. everything's been falling apart again, and i didn't want to add more chaos. i thought if i waited until it was over—"

steve nods slowly, his thumb brushing your cheek as he cuts you off from your sentence, "yeah but vecna's gonna be defeated soon, love. we're gonna end this. you could've told me earlier."

"i know," you say and your voice is trembling, "but i was scared. I was scared everyone would reject the baby because the timing's all wrong. we're so young, steve... you're 21, i'm 20. it's not perfect."

your man's expression softens even more, if that's possible, and he shakes his head, "i know we're young, but it happened, and i would've accepted it right away with no questions." his hands slide lower, palms splaying gently over your small bump, caressing it through the fabric of your slightly oversized green shirt.

the touch is reverent, careful, like he's afraid he'll wake from a dream, "this is the both of us created into one. not even someone like vecna could've taken his happy moment away from me."

you lean into him, with your own hands resting on his arms, feeling the steady beat of his pulse, "i had a doctor's appointment last week," you say softly, the words feeling intimate in the quiet room, "today makes 15 weeks. I have one more week until I hit four months."

steve looks down, his eyes tracing the gentle curve where your belly presses against the shirt, almost poking through. a small smirk tugs at his lips as something clicks.

"wait… so we conceived in july... was it... was it during that moment we had in the car after dustin's birthday party?"

you nearly laugh, the sound bubbling up through the tears, "hey! don't think about that right now!"

steve grins now, that boyish smirk you fell for years ago, his eyes sparkling with mischief and memory, "come on, that sundress you wore? the blue one that matched your skin so perfectly? you looked so sexy—i couldn't resist."

"well, look where that got us," you say, placing your hands on top of his, pressing them firmer against your belly.

the baby flutters faintly, as if sensing the moment which makes you both freeze, sharing a wide-eyed glance.

steve laughs then, a real, warm sound that fills the room, but it's cut short by a tear slipping down his cheek.

he kisses your forehead, lingering there, his lips soft against your skin.

you pull back slightly, wiping the tear away with your thumb.

"how did you know? before… before i could tell you?"

he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing, "in the upside down… i nearly did something stupid... you're gonna kill me, but i tried to play a hero again while crossing into th-this melting stairwell to save nancy and jonathan. dustin... he freaked out, and pulled me back and in order to stop me, he… he spilled it. he said i couldn't die because you're pregnant with my kid."

you sigh, a mix of frustration and ache settling in your chest, "why do you always have to play hero, steve? every time—"

"they were about to drown in that goo," he says quietly, with his eyes pleading for some sort of forgiveness, "i had to try."

you sigh again, "I know, but it scares me."

"hey," he whispers and one of his hands leaves your belly to cup your face, "don't stress it. i'm okay now." steve's voice drops lower too, full of love that wraps around you like a blanket, "i want you to stay calm... for you and the baby."

you nod, but the words keep coming from steve, "i promise to stay safe," he says firmly, "and keep you safe. both of you."

"yeah... but i'm anxious, steve," you admit, "not just about vecna... its just that i don't want to be useless or sidelined in this whole thing. remember 18 months ago? i was right there handling guns, bombs, and fighting in the upside down and I was the only one who did damage to vecna before he nearly killed max. now… i don't want to be dumbed down to just another person in the group because I happen to be pregnant."

he nods, understanding flickering in his eyes, "well, you're not useless. never that.... but there have to be precautions for the baby, love."

"i know," you say, "but i can still be involved—in the planning, at least?"

"deal," he agrees and pulls you closer so your small belly touches his lower stomach, "we compromise. you help plan, i make sure you're safe."

you smile, before resting your head across his chest. for a few second after, a wave of silence comes before steve's face crumples, and tears spilling freely from his eyes.

he steps back slightly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"what's wrong?" you look up and ask, panic rising as you try to pull him back into you.

he shakes his head, smiling through the tears, "nothing. i'm happy. i'm so fucking happy." his voice breaks, "ever since I found out about you I just... I just keep thinking about the failed relationship with my parents and just everything else that went wrong in my life due to my stupid decisions. i thought i'd never have a family or any sense of stability. i felt like a loser after high school since I did not go to college, and I got cut off from parents. i thought vecna was it for me. maybe if i played hero, proved i wasn't 'king steve' anymore, it'd mean something."

he pauses, before he turns and his eyes were locked on yours once again, "but now… i realize i don't need that. i got what i always wanted, which was a greater love with you."

tears stream down your face now too, your heart swelling until it hurts, "steve…"

you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping tight around his neck (while being mindful of your arm injury) as he buries his face in your shoulder, with his body shaking with quiet sobs.

"i promise," he whispers against your skin, "i'll be a good dad. the best dad I can be while being the greatest partner to you.... forever."

you hold him as the world outside seems to fade in your mind to nothing.

minutes pass in that embrace, until you both pull back, wiping each other's tears.

turning around and before opening the door, steve pauses.

"do you know the gender of the baby?"

you shake your head, smiling softly.

"not yet. but i've been reading about cravings and stuff. all the signs point to a girl since I like sweet things, and with my irregular morning sickness patterns."

steve's face lights up, a fresh tear glistening.

"a girl." he breathes it like a prayer, then takes your hand, "come on. we'll talk more later... let's go join them."

you nod, letting him lead you out of the office hand in hand with his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles. the hallway feels narrower but the muffled voices from the main lounge grow clearer as you approach.

everyone is already gathered around the radio booth window sitting on the couches, where dustin has turned the glass into a makeshift whiteboard with black dry-erase marker.

there’s a free spot on the sagging couch beside murray, who’s perched with his arms crossed and his eyes curious behind his glasses. steve guides you there first, letting you sink into the cushions before he hops up to sit on the backrest, with his right leg dangling beside you.

the man's knee was close to your left shoulder protectively, and steve's right hand immediately finds your upper back, rubbing slow, soothing lines between your shoulder blade. you lean into the touch without thinking, drawing a deep breath to settle the flutter of nerves in your chest.

murray scoots over an inch to give you room, offering a small, knowing nod which gives silent praise for the conversation you just had, maybe, or just acknowledgment that you’re holding it together.

you return a tiny smile, then turn your attention to dustin.

he’s in full lecture mode with his cap pushed back and a marker squeaking against the glass as he redraws the diagram he’s apparently already explained once.

“okay, okay, catch-up for steve and y/n,” dustin says, glancing over his shoulder at you both, “so basically... this bottom circle you see here? that’s hawkins.” he taps the lower loop he’s drawn on the window, “we always assumed the upside down was just some pocket dimension brenner accidentally tore open, right? but it’s not.... it’s a bridge.... more specifically, an interdimensional bridge that rips through space and time.”

your eyes widen, with your mind doing a double take on if you've heard that correctly.

you feel steve’s hand still on your back for a second and you turn your head just enough to meet his gaze... he’s staring at you, brown eyes comically round, mouth slightly agape. you know that look since it’s the same one he gave you in the office when the pieces clicked about july.

you’re both thinking the same thing about what his mentee said.

dustin catches it and grins, pointing at you two with the marker, “see guys? they’re surprised too.”

you shake your head slowly, pushing yourself up from the couch with one hand on steve's knee and the other subtly supporting your lower back. the movement is a little slower than usual, your small bump making balance just a touch trickier.

“dustin,” you say, voice steady as you admit your truth, “i had that theory since last year.”

the room goes quiet.

“wait... what?” hopper blurts, his gaze on joyce breaking as you spoke those last words.

“you did?” dustin’s voice pitches up, open marker frozen mid-air.

you step closer to the window, close enough to see the faint smudges from previous drawings.

“yeah. you know my whole thing with marvel and x-men comics?” you glance around and you see robin's smirk, steve’s lips twitch, and even kali gives a tiny nod.

robin mutters, “nerd,” under her breath, and you shoot her a playful glare before continuing, “i always figured that the upside down wasn’t a separate dimension exactly.... more like the ‘space between.’ i told steve a while ago shortly after what had happened to max and eddie...I said that it wouldn’t surprise me if the upside down was just connective tissue between universes... like... a multiverse bridge, but i thought i was living too much in the fantasy.”

you shrug, a little embarrassed now that every eye is on you. so, you walk a step backwards, feeling steve’s hand on your lower back again as you stand there.

murray beside him gives a low, appreciative hum towards you, with eyebrows raised in clear respect.

dustin looks almost offended that he didn’t know, like his smart brain could not have detected that sooner, “you had this puzzle piece the whole time and didn’t say anything?”

“i thought it sounded insane,” you admit and your voice gets softer, “i didn’t have proof... just comic-book logic.”

mr. clarke clears his throat from the corner, smiling fondly, “comic-book logic has been right more than once in this town, ms. l/n.”

dustin recovers quickly, excitement bubbling over again.

“okay, well—you’re right, but keep in mind the upside down is wildly unstable, held together by exotic matter we found dead center above the lab.” he circles a smaller ring in the middle of the bridge shape he’s drawn, right over where hawkins lab would sit, “in theoretical physics, they call this type of bridge a—”

“wormhole,” you, erica, and mr. clarke say in unison.

the three of you glance at each other and erica smirks, mr. clarke gives an approving nod, and you can’t help the small and proud smile that tugs at your lips.

“yes,” dustin says, a little deflated but grinning anyway, “and this wormhole connects hawkins to here…” he draws a second circle on the opposite side of the bridge, “…another world i’ve coined the abyss.”

robin tilts her head, “any particular reason for the dramatic name?”

mr. clarke answers before dustin can, “a realm of chaos and evil.”

robin blinks, “i’m sorry?”

“d&d,” half the room choruses... lucas, mike, erica, will, and even steve mutters it under his breath.

hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, “jesus christ.”

“wow,” murray mutters beside you and steve, loud enough for only you two to hear. steve huffs a quiet laugh, with his fingers resuming their gentle path up and down your spine.

dustin barrels on, “i believe the abyss is the true home of the demogorgons, the vines, the mind flayer—all the nasty shit we’ve been fighting. it’s where, years ago, you banished henry.” he points at eleven, who sits beside erica with her arms wrapped around herself.

eleven’s voice is quiet as she says, “brenner made me find henry.”

she says it almost defensively, like she’s afraid someone will blame her for everything. your heart twists, knowing they would never do that.

with eleven, you’ve felt protective of her since the moment you met her (with max) at your jcpenny job almost two years ago... you were protective, since this girl had to carry the weight of the world since she was born.

while only five years older than her, you still hate that she’s fifteen and still the center of every plan.

it might be the maternal instinct that you didn’t even know you had, yet. all of it flares hot in your chest since you just want her safe, happy, and free to be a teenager after this is over. you want her to have a real home with more school dances, college, maybe.

anything similar to the life you and steve are only just starting to dream about for yourselves... and now for the tiny life inside you.

“and when you made remote contact with the abyss,” dustin continues, turning back to the window, “the bridge formed. ever since, henry and his monsters have been using it to cross right back into hawkins.”

he caps the marker with finality and steps back, letting everyone absorb the drawing.

the room is silent for a long beat.

you sink back onto the couch slowly, with the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders, yet steve’s hand never leaves your back, with thumb tracing the same comforting pattern.

you take a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. the exhale is loud, which makes multiple heads turn towards your direction at once. all you notice is nancy’s worried eyes, robin’s furrowed brow, hopper’s concern, and even eleven glancing over with quiet sympathy.

you realize how loud that sigh must have been and crack a small, tired smile, lifting one hand in reassurance, “I'm okay... this is just… overwhelming.”

steve leans down a little, “you sure?”

you nod, reaching back to squeeze his knee, “yeah.... just processing.”

dustin caps the marker again, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he can’t contain the energy inside of his mind and mouth at once, “we kicked vecna’s ass last year. well... eleven with her powers and y/n with that damn flamethrower in particular... but he just fled across this bridge and back into the abyss to lick his wounds.”

“what a pussy!” erica calls from the center couch, arms crossed, with her voice dripping with twelve-year-old disdain.

a surprised smirk tugs at your lips before you can stop it while steve’s hand pauses mid-circle on your back, then resumes, his quiet huff of laughter vibrating against your shoulder.

even hopper’s mouth twitches at the out-of-pocket callout.

joyce, sitting forward on the edge of the center couch, frowns softly, “so all this time… vecna’s been hiding in the sky?”

“that explains why every crawl led to a dead end,” nancy says, arms folded tight, eyes on the diagram like she’s memorizing it.

eleven nods beside erica, “and why i can’t find him in the bath.”

“and why holly came from the sky,” jonathan adds quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

hopper’s jaw tightens, almost locked, “yeah, but why is he taking kids up there?” he is angry, the kind of anger that comes from imagining something unspeakable happening to a child... especially one he’s come to care about like family.

the room stills and max's soft breathing is suddenly the loudest sound.

will steps forward, “for the same reason he took me.” his voice is steady, but you can hear the light tremor underneath, “the minds of children are weaker, right? more easily molded and controlled. so he channels his thoughts and powers through me to amplify his abilities… and he’s going to do the same to those kids.”

hopper turns fully toward him, “amplify his abilities? to do what?”

you feel the words rise in your throat before you can stop them, “to create an incursion.”

every head swivels toward you. steve’s hand stills again on your back as you lean forward slightly, with your elbows on your knees while the small weight of your belly shifts with the movement.

“or in the comics… crashing one world into another.”

hopper stares, “are you serious?”

“she is,” max says from her wheelchair near the door, voice flat but certain, “holly… she said henry told the kids they would help him draw the worlds together.”

your eyes widen as you sit up straighter, ignoring the twinge in your lower back, “i didn’t understand what it meant at the time,” max continues, “but hearing y/n and dustin—”

“he wants to move the abyss,” mike cuts in, voice rising with realization, “and crash it here into hawkins.”

“no—not crash!” will corrects sharply, surging forward.

he moves around the couch, snatches the marker from dustin’s hand and starts drawing frantic lines on the window with arrows from the abyss circle pushing toward hawkins, “merge! henry wasn’t licking his wounds in the abyss... he was making rifts! he is weakening the abyss like he weakened hawkins. so when the abyss and hawkins collide, they become one.”

the marker squeaks loud in the sudden silence.

steve finally speaks, his voice a little hoarse... he’s been quiet since the office, mind clearly split between the end of the world and the beginning of a family.

he shifts beside you, “okay, uh… how long would this take? to move worlds? like-” he smacks his hands together sharply, the clap echoing, “or is this gonna take some time?”

mike exhales hard, running a hand through his hair.

“well this better take some time, because if this is all correct we have to get two thousand feet into the air, find our way into the abyss, free holly and the kids, and kill vecna before our worlds collide.”

lucas, leaning around max, shakes, “and if my theory is right… he’s gonna move the worlds tonight.”

the room seems to shrink since joyce’s hand tightens around herself, nancy’s eyes flick to the windows behind her like she’s already searching the sky and eleven’s nose starts to bleed again, just a thin trickle she wipes away without comment.

robin mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “fan-fucking-tastic.”

you feel steve’s fingers resume their path up your spine, slower.

two thousand feet into the air. tonight.

your free hand drifts to your belly, settling over the small curve hidden beneath your green shirt. it has been fifteen weeks and your child is a life barely the size of a peach, with their heart beating steady inside you while the world prepares to end above everyone’s heads.

soon, the group starts talking at once with hopper barking questions and plans. dustin is already theorizing entry points and Nancy starts pulling out maps... but you stay quiet since this is not just hawkins and not just holly and the kids in your mind.

this is future you and steve only just dared to name.

anyways, hopper takes charge and thinks about a plan. one involving another kidnap. he stands by the window and holds the dry erase marker, “we kidnap a chopper from the base, fly straight up the wormhole, drop in hot, grab the kids, take out vecna. simple.”

dustin throws his hands up, “this rotor's are like 40 feet wide," he argues, gesturing wildly at the diagram, "it's too big, it is not gonna fit."

robin, standing beside mike with her arms crossed, catches your eye at the exact moment dustin says “too big.” since her mouth twitches with immaturity.

she flicks her gaze to steve perched beside you on the couch back, then back to you, that familiar devilish spark lighting up her face.

“steve hears that all the time from a certain individual,” she calls out, her voice cutting through the argument, “yet he goes in anyway. don’t you, steve?”

you smack a hand to your forehead, muttering, “robin?” in mock offense, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrays you.

steve scoffs at robin, almost offended, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

murray, sandwiched between you and the armrest, lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, “okay, that was funny.”

you elbow him lightly, still grinning despite the embarrassment. everyone in the room knows exactly what robin’s implying... especially now that the pregnancy news is out.

there’s no hiding the evidence of what you and steve do in your private time anymore.

hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, “everybody shut up.” his voice booms, “look—if somebody else has some magic bean that i don’t know about, i’m all ears. if not, it’s a risk we have to take. we fly, or we die.”

“we fly,” murray drawls, dragging the word out like he’s tasting it.

“well i guess we die,” dustin snaps back.

“we’re not gonna die if we commit to a plan!” hopper waves a hand, frustration felt deep in the lines of his face. at the time voices rise again mostly between dustin and hopper. it’s all noise, overlapping with everyone grasping at the same thin strands of hope.

you feel something twisting in your stomach... a cold, tight knot that has nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with a little girl lost in that red-black sky.

holly’s out there, trapped, and every raised voice feels like time slipping away.

before you could overthink, you feel a gentle poke on your shoulder.

you turn your head and steve’s looking around with his brow furrowed deep in thought, and his lips pressed together like he’s chewing on an idea. your man's eyes flick to you, hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for permission to speak up about a plan.

your eyebrows lift and a tiny, fond giggle bubbles up despite everything. you lean back just enough so only he can hear and whisper, “steve, you’re smart. if you have a magic bean plan, say something.”

steve's mouth quirks and he’s moving, hopping down from the couch back in one fluid motion.

“we don’t need a magic bean to climb,” he says from behind you, voice steady but not loud enough to cut through the arguing.

no one hears him since hopper’s gesturing again, and dustin’s talking over him.

steve tries again, louder, “we don’t need a magic bean!”

the room snaps to attention and all eyes turn to him. he lifts both hands in a small, apologetic gesture.

“sorry… we just… we don’t need it.” he steps forward, closer to the table, confidence growing as he speaks, “we’ve got a beanstalk right here.”

ten minutes later, the lounge empties slowly since everyone follows steve into the adjoining storage room where he talks about the correct plan to get into the abyss. he sounds smart, and it makes you smile as voices overlap in agreement.

as the conversation flows more roles get assigned, and the plan steve laid out is starting to take shape.

max is going to help with eleven and kali, erica and mr. clarke will be at the MAC-Z monitoring, and everyone else is pointed out and posted to go into the abyss.

one by one, everyone finds their place. joyce and murray will handle transport and extraction. hopper, nancy, lucas, jonathan, mike, dustin, robin, steve... they’ll climb the tower, cross into the abyss, and end this.

what shocks you is when silence falls when the assignments are done since you’re still standing behind nancy while beside robin with your hand resting low on your belly, feeling oddly outside of everything.

the knot that’s lived in your stomach since holly vanished tightens further.

“guys,” you say, voice quieter than you mean it to be. you step one stop forward, standing between nancy and robin.

everyone turns to you, “where… where am i in all of this? you never said my name for a role?”

the question hangs and you hate how small it sounds since nobody wants to speak up.

“i feel quiet,” you admit and the words are scraping out, “and lost right now.”

lucas starts, “well... um... you can come with us on the—”

“no!”

the refusal comes from nearly every adult at once and in sync. it comes from robin, nancy, hopper, joyce, murray, vickie, and loudest of all, steve.

meanwhile the chorus of it hits you like a wall, almost offensively.

you try to swallow the sting, but pregnancy hormones are cruel and efficient which makes your tears prick instantly, almost embarrassing in your mind.

that mind twists their protectiveness into something uglier... that you’re not needed and you’re fragile now.

useless.

“y/n,” nancy says softly, stepping closer and turning while reading the hurt on your face.

you lift your chin, “i am the only non-superpowered person in this room who has fought vecna 1v1 without getting cursed or broken into pieces. no offense, but i stood in that attic with a shotgun and a molotov and helped burn him. i’ve earned my place in this fight!”

“yes,” hopper says carefully, “but you’re pregnant.”

the word lands like a verdict.

you laugh, but it’s bitter, “yeah. sure. if thats the reason then I'll stay because i guess i’m just dumbed down to the pregnant woman who can’t do anything anymore.”

you know you’re not being fair.... you know it the second the words leave your mouth.

even max... in her wheelchair... has a crucial role in the fight and you’re being relegated to what? caretaker?

you turn before anyone can answer, bolting out of the room. your vision blurs with angry tears as steve calls your name. your man's footsteps are quick behind you, but you duck into the small staff bathroom down the hall, slam, and lock the door.

immediately as knocks come at the bathroom door, you sink onto the closed toilet lid with your elbows on knees, face in your hands, and finally let the sobs come.

it is quiet, choking, the kind that shake your whole body. you hate crying like this since you hate feeling benched and you hate that part of you knows they’re right and the rest of you feels erased.

“y/n?” steve’s voice is soft through the door, worried, “baby, please open up.”

“just leave me alone,” you manage.

there’s a pause for a minute..... then the lock clicks anyway.

you look up, indignant since you did not stand up to unlock the door.

when the door opens, you see steve before you see eleven behind him, with her hand lowered as she silently mumbles a “sorry,”

steve slips inside and shuts the door behind him, locking it again manually this time. he crouches in front of you immediately, hands gentle on your knees.

“hey hey,” he says, “look at me.”

you do, reluctantly. your face is a mess with tear-streaked mascara running down. he doesn’t care about your looks, since he cups your cheeks as his thumbs brush the wetness away.

“i’m not okay,” you whisper.

“i know.” he pulls you forward into his chest, arms wrapping around you tight. you resist for half a second, then fold with your face pressed to his shoulder, fresh tears soaking his shirt.

“look, please don't think that this is about you not being capable,” he murmurs into your hair, “this is about everyone, especially me, not surviving if something happened to you or the baby. i can’t—and I won’t risk that.”

you cling to him, the fight leaking out with every sob.

“i don’t want to be useless, steve.”

“you’re not. you’re never useless.” he pulls back just enough to look at you, “you’re carrying our kid. you’re keeping them safe just by breathing. that’s not nothing.”

before you could speak further, there’s a soft knock and nancy’s voice filters through.

“lovebirds? y/n, please come out. we do have a plan for you.”

you sniff, wiping your face.

“it’s not a pity role, is it?”

nancy opens the door slowly, and steve nods permission for her to fully open it.

“no. in fact, i thought of it the second you told me about the baby in the hospital.”

she gestures for you to follow her and curiosity overrides the hurt enough for you to stand. steve keeps your hand in his as you trail nancy to the smaller armory room down the hall.

after ten steps, steve lets go of your hand, and walks away leaving you with nancy as she leads you in the armory room. robin and vickie are there with robin halfway into camo pants and a long-sleeve, as vickie helps her lace boots.

nancy kneels by a black duffel bag and pulls out your sawed-off shotgun from last year... the one you wielded in the creel house attic like it was an extension of your arm.

then she hands you the flamethrower pack, fuel canister still half-full, nozzle scorched black from when you lit vecna up.

your breath catches since you take the shotgun when she offers it. the weight is familiar.

“you’re staying here,” nancy says, her voice steady but so kind, “since you’re guarding max.”

you open your mouth to protest, but she keeps going.

“yes, i know that’s not what you want... but we can’t risk you... or the baby two thousand feet up and in another dimension. if vecna sends anything back here for max again... demodogs, or bats even... everyone trusts you the most to handle it. you’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.”

robin finishes zipping her jacket, steps over, and bumps your shoulder.

“plus, someone’s gotta keep max from getting too bored. you’re the only one who can match her sarcasm.”

you look down at the shotgun in your hands, then at the flamethrower. it’s not the front line, and it’s not the abyss.... but it’s not nothing.

“that’s my first motherly sacrifice for this baby, huh? not being able to jump into a physical fight?” you say, half-joking, voice still wobbly.

nancy smiles, stepping close and resting both hands gently on your small bump, “yeah... and it won’t be the last.”

“y/n... i can’t believe you’re someone’s mother,” vickie says, awed.

“that’s not even shocking, honestly,” robin adds, pulling her own hair back with a blue hairclip, “you and steve have been the group parents for years... and that is skipping the girl-talk details you’ve shared…” she winks, “and now look at you. one beautiful young mama who’s growing her baby while still helping save the world.”

she wraps you in a tight hug, and her camo rough against your body.

you hug back hard, breathing her vanilla scent in. when you pull away, you walk back to the main room together.

steve is there, freshly changed into dark green cargo pants, with a dark shirt, a darker jacket, and that old black backwards cap with a few strands of hair escaping around the edges.

the whole look is… unfairly hot.

your hormones hit like a bus since heat floods you from chest to toes, and you have to bite your lip to keep from staring at steve too obviously.

however, some logic kicks in when you see him fumbling with a grey pistol, trying to load the magazine and clearly having no idea what he’s doing.

you jog over, laughing despite everything.

“hey, hey.” you catch his arm, “you haven’t shot a real gun before, have you?”

steve gives a sheepish grin, “well, not all of us are as cool as you... but I've shot... like… bb guns.... flare guns.... and duck hunt.”

you snort, taking the pistol and sliding the magazine in smoothly, racking the slide with practiced ease, “we’ll get you a shotgun. less finesse required.”

he watches you, eyes soft, then leans in and kisses you... slow like he’s memorizing the feel of you before he leaves.

you pull back just enough to rest your forehead against his.

“also steve... just an fyi,” you say, bright and sarcastic, “if you go up there, play hero, and die… i will revive you and then kill you again myself.”

“and i’ll join in,” robin calls from across the room, slinging a flare gun holster over her shoulder.

steve chuckles, but his eyes are serious, “i won’t die. i promise.”

he drops to one knee suddenly, pressing a soft kiss to your belly through the green shirt.

“your dad’s coming back,” he whispers against the fabric, “both of us are.”

you roll your eyes playfully at him, but your throat tightens when he stands, squeezes your hand once more, then heads over to dustin to finish gearing up.

you walk to max, settling into the chair beside her wheelchair with your sawed off shotgun across your lap, and a flamethrower tank propped nearby.

yes, you are on guard duty as an armed babysitter, or the hundredth time.

it’s not the abyss, but it’s something.

an hour passes by and the station feels too big and too empty now that everyone’s gone. the lounge lights are dimmed to conserve power, casting long shadows across the mismatched furniture but the only noises are the occasional crackle of static from the walkie on the coffee table.

you’re stretched out on the sagging black leather couch, one arm draped protectively over your small bump, and the other hanging off the edge near the sawed-off shotgun propped against the side table. your leg bounces restlessly, heel tapping an anxious rhythm against the floor.

you’re trying to rest with doctor’s orders, and steve’s pleading eyes before he left... but sleep won’t come, and it shouldn't at this exact time.

every time you close your eyes you see the tower, the rift, the red sky, and you see steve’s face when he promised he’d come back. you need him to come back more than anyone else up there, and you need him safe and whole and walking through that door so you can stop feeling like your heart is being squeezed in a fist.

vickie paces the length of the room for the hundredth time, with her nurse shoes scuffing softly against the worn floor. the girl's hands twist together, then release, then twist again. the motion is making your own nerves fray faster.

so, you close your eyes for a couple of minutes and nearly slip into darkness.

“y/n.”

max’s voice cuts through the quiet and you open your eyes and turn your head. she’s parked her wheelchair at the end of the couch, facing you, red braided hair catching the faint glow from the exit sign.

“i know you don’t want to be here right now,” she says, a smirk tugging at her lips, “but i’m not sure if sleeping is a good option.”

you huff a tired laugh, pushing yourself up on one elbow, “sorry, ms. legs, pregnancy is tiring.”

max snorts, “tell me about it... i’ve been in casts for months and i’m still exhausted.”

there’s a beat of comfortable quiet as you sit up fully, swinging your legs off the couch, and rub at your eyes.

“you know,” max says softer, “i missed you a lot.”

you blink at her, “you missed me? but you were… in the trance.”

“yeah,” she shrugs, looking down at her hands for a second, “but i was still trapped in that cave in henry's mind, just wishing to be back here.... I mean... you were the third person i missed the most.”

you scoff, half offended, half fond, “third?”

max’s smirk returns full force, “lucas first, obviously. eleven second. you third. don’t take it personally.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, “well, who am i to think i rank above lucas and eleven.”

max’s grin widens, genuine and bright, the kind you haven’t seen from her in too long.

unfortunately vickie’s voice breaks the moment, “ughhh, okay what is taking them so long?” she’s pacing again, faster this time, arms wrapped around herself.

you like vickie... she’s sweet, funny, and matches robin’s energy in a way that makes your best friend light up... but right now her spiraling is not helping.

“i don’t know,” max answers dryly, “maybe something to do with the fact that it’s a five-hundred-foot tower and they’re trying to cross into another dimension.”

vickie stops, cheeks flushing, “right. yeah. sorry.”

“if something’s wrong, they’ll contact us, vick,” you say, trying to sound calm even though your own leg has started bouncing again.

“yeah, no, yeah,” vickie nods too fast, “i mean—unless they’re already dead!”

“don’t put that out there,” you groan, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“okay—i’m sorry!” vickie winces, “i’m stressed and stress gives me the munchies, so um—” she looks between you and max, “do you guys want anything?”

you drop your hands, “anything that does not have peanut butter, nor soy, please.”

max shakes her head, “i’m good.”

vickie nods and hurries off toward the small kitchenette area, clearly grateful for something to do.

you watch her go, then turn back to max... just in time to see her eyes roll back, whites showing, body going rigid in the chair. your heart lurches before remembering that this is the plan for her.

kali and eleven are linking with her through the void, using her connection to vecna’s memories to guide the team. however, seeing max with her face slack and her head tilting back still sends ice down your spine.

you’re on your feet in an instant, shotgun snatched from the table, while racking the slide with a sharp metallic cha-chunk (lol).

adrenaline floods your system, sharpening your senses to the hum of the lights, to the distant clatter of vickie rummaging in the kitchen, and the soft rise and fall of max’s chest proving she’s still breathing.

you start pacing around the station slowly with deliberate loops around the lounge, eyes scanning every object, every doorway, every window.

the flamethrower tank is propped near the couch... you keep it in your peripheral as you move on guard duty so you won’t fall asleep.

unfortunately, you walk around for thirty minutes in suffocating silence.

you’ve migrated to the kitchenette, pacing in slow circles with an apple in hand, biting into it more for something to do than actual hunger. the crisp snap of each bite echoes too loud in the empty station since vickie opted to stay quiet around an unconscious max.

your shotgun leans against the counter within arm’s reach, a constant reminder of your role tonight since you were prohibited to go into the abyss.

however, nothing happens here in the station. there is no growls from the shadows and no bats snaking through cracked windows. there is only static from the radio waiting for a check-in that hasn’t come.

you press a hand to your belly, feeling the faint flutter there like the baby knows you’re on edge.

“they’re okay,” you whisper to the quiet room, more for yourself than anyone else, “they have to be.”

vickie’s still making a path on the floor in the lounge, muttering numbers under her breath about how long it should take to climb, how long to cross, how long to fight. max sits motionless in her trance, head tilted back slightly, eyes pure white.

you take another bite of the apple, juice running down your chin. once you walk to the opposite side of the building, vickie suddenly bolts to you with her face pale as a blanket sheet.

“y/n.. there are vans outside. military vans.... lots of them coming!”

your stomach drops and the apple slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud as you run to the window three strides, peering through the blinds and floodlights sweep the parking lot.

“fuck,” you breathe, “the fucking military!”

this wasn’t the plan.

you were ready for demodogs, for bats, for vines of vecna's arms bursting through the walls. it is the supernatural you can fight since you have grown to learn how to survive the supernatural.

humans with guns and orders, you cannot survive now.

a year ago you would’ve grabbed the shotgun, taken a stand, rained hell on anyone trying to intrude on your plans but now your mind drifts instinctively to your belly... now there’s another being to consider.

“we need to hide now,” you say to vickie, urgently.

thankfully, there’s an emergency hideout spot robin showed everyone earlier. it is a false panel behind a tall bookshelf in the storage room. small, cramped, but concealed.

vickie’s already moving, wheeling max’s chair as gently and quickly as she can. max’s body is limp in the trance, with her head lolling as you ditch the shotgun since it is too noisy, and too bulky. you decide to prop it behind the counter where it won’t be immediately seen then you sprint ahead, flinging the bookshelf open with a grunt.

the false wall yawns behind it, a narrow crawlspace barely big enough for three. you help vickie maneuver max inside first, wheelchair and all... it’s tight, but it fits. afterwards vickie and you go through before the shelf is pulled shut behind you with the hidden latch.

as you sat silently, the smell of dust and old paper hit your olfactory nerves. you sit behind vickie with max’s wheelchair taking up most of the space in front of you. your knees are drawn up, one hand braced against the wall, the other resting protectively over your bump.

outside, the front door splinters with a sharp crack with boots thundering across the floor. there are muffled commands along the lines of “clear,” “check the back,” and “secure the radios."

looking down, you can see flashlight beams sweep under the bookshelf crack, painting thin lines of light across your shoes.

you hold your breath as vickie’s hand finds yours in the dim light and squeezes hard as you squeeze back.

five minutes drag on then max gasps loudly with her body jerking forward when she snaps out of the trance. at that, your heart plummets and your eyes wide at vickie.

the bookshelf wrenches open almost immediately and light floods in. you squint, raising a hand against the glare.

a woman stands there with short-cropped blonde hair, sharp features, and military fatigues. she doesn’t point a gun, all she does is lookdown at the three of you with a calm, almost amused expression.

“hi there,” she says, voice smooth.

behind her, soldiers move in.

one reaches for you with his grip on your upper arm surprisingly gentle, but firm. you stand slowly, legs shaky, and quietly ask, “can you loosen it a little? I can't run.”

he does, fractionally.

they march you out to one of the vans parked in the lot. the night air is cold, biting through your green shirt.

you’re helped up into the back as max lifted in her chair while vickie climbs in beside her.

you sit on the bench seat, pulling the seatbelt across yourself out of habit.

the woman with short hair... dr. kay, you overhear someone call her... pauses at the open door, eyes scanning the three of you.

however, gaze lingers on you longest.

you swallow, nervous as she looks at the way the seatbelt crosses your body, which pulls the fabric of your shirt over the unmistakable swell of your belly.

something shifts in dr.kay's expression.

calculation, maybe, or an idea forming.

suddenly, she scoffs softly almost to herself, muttering “never mind” under her breath, like she’s dismissing whatever thought just crossed her mind about you and your pregnant stomach.

she turns away, slamming the doors shut and the van lurches into motion a second later, with the tires crunching over gravel.

you sit in the dark between max and vickie, with your heart hammering and one hand cradling your stomach since you were supposed to fight monsters tonight.

instead, you’re being taken straight into the MAC-Z full of people who’ve been hunting your family for years and you have a gut feeling that are about to get much worse before they ever get better.

and you were right.

the vans slow to a halt at the fortified gate with engines idling low and menacing. your hands won’t stop shaking since through the small tinted window you can see soldiers fanning out, rifles raised, floodlights cutting harsh white beams across the asphalt.

they’re setting up an ambush and waiting for the others to come stumbling out of the gate, exhausted and victorious by defeating vecna, only to be taken.

you feel sick, and even so helpless.

when the doors fly open., you know that means the group arrived back into the real world. you’re pulled out into the cold night air seeing the military swarm your friends. vickie on one side of you, with max ad her wheelchair in-front of you. your legs feel like water, but you stay upright, eyes widened in horror as steve and robin are slammed against the side of a truck almost immediately.

steve’s head knocks hard against the metal and he grunts, struggling. robin swears loudly, kicking out and terrified at the amount of loud men yelling at her.

your heart seizes and you take half a step forward, panic clawing up your throat, but vickie’s hand clamps around your wrist, pulling you back.

“don’t,” she whispers, voice trembling.

you watch in horror as robin pleads for the men to calm down. what happened? is vecna dead? where are all of the kids?

max yelps beside you, “what is she doing?”

at first you think she means dr. kay, the woman with the short blonde hair striding forward like she owns the night.

suddenly, mike’s voice cracks through the chaos with desperate yelling.

when mike runs towards the gate, you turn your head and see eleven standing in the upside down... alone.

she is standing in the fading red slash of the rift, small against the exploding black sky behind her. debris whips around her in violent spirals. there are chunks of metal, rock, ash, and everything the collapsing abyss is spitting out as it dies.

when el doesn’t move, and she stands there in tears, you realize that she’s not coming through. mike is fighting a soldier tooth and nail, screaming her name while trying to free her from sacrificing, “el! el, no! el!”

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

el, don’t.

the wind howls harder as the explosion of the abyss reaches her. the sky in the upside down itself is tearing apart and everyone is screaming now with hopper roaring, nancy’s voice breaking, joyce sobbing mike’s name as he almost breaks free to run towards el.

you can’t move as tears spill hot down your cheeks, freezing in the night air. everything you ever wished for her... safety, peace, a real life... slips away in front of you.

steve’s face across the lot mirrors yours. it is helpless, terrified, eyes wide in horror. the wind becomes a hurricane as the blast wave hits eleven full force.

for one impossible second she’s silhouetted against the firestorm and you close your eyes and turn away, before you could see her fully go.

the screams, mike’s most of all, tell you everything as the wind hits everyone hard. the roaring continues and you kneel on your knees, covering your ears and eyes and anything that can take you away from here.

there is only silence once mike stop screaming. at that moment, you open your eyes to see that the gate is gone... just a destroyed building where the rift had been.

everyone stares at the empty space, frozen in horror as to what had happened.

steve is still with his chest heaving, with his face streaked with dirt.

as if he noticed your presence in that moment, he turns his head and looks past the soldiers, past the trucks, and his eyes land on you.

steve's eyes widen. he hadn’t known you were here and captured by the military. he jerks against the soldier holding him, shouting your name, but the man keeps a hold on him to stay put.

you can’t hear steve calling for you over the ringing in your ears, but you see his mouth form the shape.

you sink slowly on the cold ground, with one hand on your belly, the other pressed to your mouth to hold in the sound that wants to come out.

eleven is gone and she closed the gate.

she ended everything, and she paid the price so the rest of you could live.

part four

masterlist

taglist:

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your eyes burn from crying and from exhaustion, but every time you close them you see holly’s empty bedroom, the broken window, karen’s blood on the carpet. all of the guilt sits heavy on your chest, right next to the tiny life you’re hiding.

nancy glances at you in the rearview mirror for the hundredth time, “you need sleep, y/n. i’m taking you home.”

you shake your head slowly, fingers tightening over your stomach, “i can’t. steve’s at the station. he’ll ask why i was out all night, and why i look like this and why you randomly took me home. he’ll worry.”

lucas exhales from beside you, his voice low but pointed, “maybe he has a right to worry. maybe he has a right to know why you’ve been pulling away.”

the words sting because they’re true.

you sigh, long and shaky, the sound filling the quiet car, “i’ll tell him. i swear. just… after this is over. after we get holly back.”

nancy’s eyes flick to you again in the mirror, sharp and gentle all at once, “no. tonight. promise me you’ll tell him tonight.”

you meet her gaze through the reflection with your throat tight. after a long beat, you nod, “okay. tonight.”

the older wheeler holds your eyes for another second, then looks back to the road, satisfied.

over gravel, the car crunches as nancy pulls into the wsqk parking lot. the radio station looks almost peaceful in the early light, like nothing terrible has happened.

jonathan is already waiting outside, leaning against the building with his arms crossed.

the second nancy parks, he pushes off the wall and meets her at the driver’s door. she barely gets out before he pulls her into him, murmuring apologies into her hair about holly, about not being there, his voice cracking.

you climb out slower, legs stiff, sweater tugged down over your hips.

the cold morning air bites at your cheeks, but before you can take two steps, steve is there.

he must have been watching from the window, because he’s moving fast and almost sprinting across the lot, his hair is messy from running his hands through it all night, and his eyes were bloodshot and wide with worry.

when steve reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate. the man's arms wrap around you tight, pulling you into his chest like he’s trying to shield you from everything bad in the world.

“hey, hey,” he whispers against your temple, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other splayed across your back, “i’ve been going out of my mind. are you okay? are you hurt?”

you melt into him without meaning to, exhaustion making your bones soft. your face presses into the warmth of his shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of him which is coffee and that dumb cologne he’s worn since sophomore year of high school.

for a second, you let yourself relax, with your arms sliding around his waist before his body presses closer, with his hips flush against yours. the discomfort flares sharp since the small, firm curve of your belly meets the hard plane of his pelvic bone and you tense, trying to shift back without making it obvious. however, steve just holds you tighter, like he thinks you’re shaking from fear instead of guilt.

after a minute, steve pulls back just enough to look at you with his palms cupping your face gently, and his thumbs brushing over the dark circles under your eyes.

“baby, talk to me. what happened? is everyone okay?”

steve's voice is so soft, and so full of love it hurts. those big brown eyes search yours, terrified for you, and all you can manage is a tiny nod. “i’m okay. i’m not hurt. just… holly’s still missing. karen’s stable, but…” your voice cracks, “i feel awful, steve.”

he immediately tugs you back into his arms, careful this time, like he senses you’re fragile, “hey, no. this isn’t on you. none of this is on you.” harrington presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, breathing you in, “i’m just glad you’re safe. i don’t know what i’d do if—”

he stops himself, swallowing hard, and you feel the tremor in his hands. steve has always been loud about how much he loves you while being all teasing, and dramatic, all while calling you “his girl” in front of everyone. though in moments like this, it’s quiet and deep and overwhelming.

he loves you so much it scares him, and right now that love is wrapped around you like a blanket you don’t deserve.

you let your eyes close for a second, forehead resting against his collarbone.

“i missed you,” you whisper, because it’s true, and because it’s the only honest thing you can say right now.

“I missed you more,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, “was sitting here all night imagining every worst-case scenario while you got stuck with nancy. don’t do that to me again, okay?”

you huff a wet laugh, nodding against him.

he doesn’t let go, swaying slightly like he’s rocking you, one hand drifting down to rub slow circles between your shoulder blades.

as you're doing that, you feel the weight of eyes on you.

you glance over steve’s shoulder and see lucas leaning against the car, arms folded, watching with quiet concern. mike beside him, kicking at gravel but looking up every few seconds and dustin, who must’ve just arrived back to the group from wherever he was last night, standing a little farther back with his cap pulled low.

you didnt notice how bloody his face looked from this far, and how beat up he was.

all you saw was that his gaze was sharp, knowing, flicking from your face to the protective way you’re holding yourself under the navy sweater.

dustin has always been the most observant.

he noticed weeks ago that you stopped eating peanut butter boppers... you and steve's absolute favorite... since you would gag at just the smell. he caught you slipping away to “get air” when nausea hit, saw the way you flinched from sudden touches.

dustin asked once, casual but careful, if everything was okay, and you brushed it off with a laugh that didn’t reach your eyes.

he hasn’t pushed since, but you know he’s been watching and waiting for the obvious truth.

now his eyes linger on the subtle curve under your sweater, then flick up to meet yours. he doesn’t smile, doesn’t wave. dustin just holds your gaze for a long second with something gentle and serious in his expression, before looking away.

your heart stutters.

shit. if dustin knows... if he’s even close to knowing... he hasn’t said anything to steve yet.

but how long until he does?

steve pulls back again, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“come on, let’s get you inside. you look like you’re about to fall over.”

he slips an arm around your waist, guiding you toward the building, warm and solid and completely unaware of the secret pressed between your bodies. you let him lead you, hand still resting low on your belly under the blue sweater.

tonight.

you have to tell him tonight.

inside the dimly lit wsqk building, the air smells like stale coffee as per usual. maps and scribbled notes were covering every surface, with voices overlapping as the group hashes out a plan to get to derek before vecna does... whether that means saving him or straight-up kidnapping him to keep him out of those cursed vines.

you’re perched on the edge of the sagging couch, with your thighs pressed together and back straight in a way that’s starting to ache, trying to keep the gentle curve under your sweater from catching the light.

steve’s arm is draped along the back of the couch behind you, his fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair like he always does when he’s thinking.

you feel the weight of occasional glances with mike from across the room, lucas leaning against the wall. do not worry, they were all soft and worried checks that land on you and then flick away.

you’re grateful, truly, but every time it happens your stomach knots tighter.

steve’s right here and he’s going to notice the noticing. you shift again, tugging the hem of your sweater down, and steve’s hand stills in your hair.

“you okay, babe?” he murmurs, low so only you hear, leaning in just enough that his breath brushes your ear, “you’re sitting like you’ve got a back spasm or something.”

you force a small laugh, turning to press a quick kiss to his jaw, “just tense. it has been a long night in those hospital chairs.”

steve hums while immediately accepting it, and pulls you closer into his side anyway. your man's warmth is overwhelming in the best and worst way. it is comforting and terrifying because you’re keeping something enormous from the person who loves you most in the world.

you promised nancy that you will tell him tonight after derek is safe. you repeat it in your mind like a mantra.

hours pass and the sky outside turning dark again, and soon everyone’s piling into cars toward the turnbow house. the plan is set with erica’s special pie has already done its job.

now the whole turnbow family blissfully passed out and carted off to safety by joyce.

it’s time to rig the house into a trap for the demos.

you trail inside with the group, with the familiar creak of the floorboards under your sneakers making your skin crawl. the living room smells faintly of cinnamon from the pie, and you help where you can by moving smaller things, pushing chairs aside.

when you reach for a heavy brass lamp on the side table, with your soft fingers curling around the base, mike and lucas both lunge forward at the same time.

“whoa, hey, i got it—” mike starts.

“let me take that,” lucas says over him, reaching.

you yank it closer to your chest instinctively, voice sharper than you mean for it to be, “i got it. i’m fine.”

steve, oblivious to the situation while carrying a stack of blankets to the corner, glances over with that proud little grin he gets whenever you do something he thinks is badass.

“yeah, let her be, guys. she’s strong. she’s got it, right babe?”

he winks at you with affection, and your heart twists painfully. you nod, forcing a smile that feels too bright, “yeah. totally.”

mike and lucas exchange a quick look of sympathy, frustration, and a silent you gotta tell him look that felt like a tiny slap. you set the lamp down gently in its new spot and turn away before steve can see your face.

a few minutes later, lucas and steve grunt together as they slide the heavy red couch to the edge of the room for better sightlines. when it’s time to split up, you’re assigned to the barn with will, robin, joyce, and the unconscious turnbows.

you find steve by the front door, his hair messy, face serious now that the plan is in motion. you step into his space and wrap your arms around his waist, careful to keep a tiny bit of distance.

steve hugs you back immediately, all protective with one hand cupping the back of your neck.

“be careful out there, okay?” he says against your hair, “stay close to robin and joyce. if anything feels off, you radio right away.”

“i will,” you whisper as you breathe him in, “good luck. come back safe.”

“always do,” he says, tipping your chin up to kiss you soft and slow, like he’s memorizing it, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

the walk to the barn with will is short, with cold air nipping at your cheeks, but your chest feels heavier with every step. when you push open the barn door, the turnbow family is lined up on blankets under other blankets, breathing steady and deep.

joyce gives will a tired hug, and you spot robin immediately who is pacing with the walkie in her hand, muttering into it.

“—and if this is all for nothing, if vecna doesn’t even show, i swear to god, harrington, i will never recover from kidnapping an entire family over pie—”

you swallow hard, since robin also doesn’t know. she is your best friend, the one who literally shoved you and steve together two years ago with all her scheming and teasing. shit, you haven’t told her you’re carrying his baby.

you feel like the worst person alive.

she hasn’t noticed you yet since she is still ranting into the walkie.

you step closer and gently take it from her fingers. she blinks, surprised, then lets go.

“hey guys,” you say into the speaker, voice softer than you meant, “it’s me. how’s it looking out there so far?”

there’s a tiny pause, then steve’s voice crackles through, warm and fond.

“hey, beautiful. it’s boring as hell, but we’re good. we’ll keep updating you, promise.”

you smile despite everything, nodding even though he can’t see, “that’s good.”

you hand the walkie back to robin, who’s studying your face now, eyebrows drawn together. you turn away, eyes drifting to the sleeping family, then to the barn doors, then to the hay-strewn floor.

your legs itch to move since the doctor’s words from two weeks ago echo about light walking to keep the blood in your body flowing, which is good for you and baby.

so you start pacing with slow circles near the wall, with your hands tucked under your sweater again.

robin’s voice cuts through the quiet in your mind, “you’re doing the pacing thing.”

you stop mid-step, “what?”

“the pacing. you only pace like that when you’re really anxious.... like, level-ten spiraling.”

you sigh, shoulders sagging, and start walking again, “yeah. i’m anxious.”

your bestfriend nods, expression softening as she glances toward the house in the distance, “vecna’s got us all messed up. holly, now this… it’s okay to be freaking out.”

you make a quiet sound of agreement, but it’s not vecna keeping your heart racing right now.

it’s the secret pressing against your uterus. you cannot stop thinking about the way steve’s voice sounded so steady and loving over the walkie when he has no idea what’s coming, too.

you keep pacing, slow and careful, and robin watches you with that worried little frown she gets when she knows something’s off but doesn’t push yet.

the minutes drag on with nothing but static over the walkie and the soft breathing of the drugged turnbows. your chance to tell steve tonight slips further away when the you're helping will in the barn while steve, nancy, dustin, and jonathan somehow ended up chasing a demodog straight into the upside down.

your stomach drops with a wave of nausea that has nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with the fact that the one conversation you’ve been building up to is now on hold indefinitely.

you almost cry right there in the hay, but robin is watching, and joyce is watching, and will is watching, so you swallow it down and follow everyone back to WSQK when the trap at the turnbow house turns out to be a bust.

back at the station, the war room is lit by the harsh glow of the projector. joyce stands at the map of hawkins, pointer in hand, tracing lines through the underground tunnels like she’s done this a hundred times.

you’re standing near the back, arms crossed over the heavy tan wool sweater you changed into. it is thicker, longer, better at hiding the small curve that’s becoming impossible to ignore as it grows. also when you’re this exhausted.

robin is on your left, Lucas is on your right, and mike is hovering close by.

“yeah, see?” joyce says, tapping the projection, “the north tunnel of the mac-z runs right underneath the barracks!”

“lucky break,” lucas mutters.

you nod with your voice quiet, “bound to happen one of these days.”

“right,” robin echoes, bumping your shoulder lightly with hers.

mike leans forward, “well, we’re gonna need more luck if we want this plan to work. if we’re right, the military is going to heavily protect these kids, so they’re gonna be stacked.”

“we have to dig up into the barracks,” mike continues, “unnoticed, grab the kids, get them to murray, y/n, and robin, and get them out of hawkins.”

you feel the weight of your name in that sentence... get them to murray, y/n, and robin... like you’re part of the safe house team now, not the front line shooting guns with nancy.

it stings a little, even though you know why.

“we have to do this before anyone notices they’re gone,” will adds from the corner, voice soft but certain.

“dick,” robin says suddenly, out of nowhere.

you almost choke on a laugh, a startled scoff escaping before you can stop it. lucas and mike both whip their heads toward her.

“huh?” you ask, blinking at your best friend.

robin’s eyes go wide, cheeks pink, “what? did i say that out loud? i thought i was talking in my head. but... you guys know tom, dick, and harry, right?”

“who?” you ask, genuinely lost.

“really?” robin groans, throwing her hands up, “you haven’t seen the great escape? none of you?”

everyone shakes their heads with a chorus of quiet no’s.

robin launches into it anyway, pacing a little as she explains about POWs in a nazi camp, digging three tunnels to break out, naming them tom, dick, and harry so the guards wouldn’t know what they were talking about if they overheard.

“it’s a classic,” she finishes, slightly out of breath, “we’re basically doing the same thing here. tunnels, barracks, sneaking kids out under the noses of the bad guys.”

you watch her, half-amused, half in awe of how her brain works, how she can pull obscure movie references out of thin air even now. it’s one of the reasons you love her so much, why she’s your best friend, why she’s the one who pushed you into steve’s arms two years ago with all her not-so-subtle nudging.

the guilt twists again, because she still doesn’t know.

later, when the plan is set and everyone gears up to head into the tunnels, the group clusters near the entrance hidden behind the station. the flashlights click on, bags are checked, and nerves are high. you’re pulling on gloves when mike and lucas step in front of you, blocking the way to the ladder.

“hey,” mike says quietly, eyes flicking to your stomach and back up, “you sure about… all this?”

lucas nods, voice low, “yeah. you don’t have to—”

robin frowns with her head tilting, “sure about what? what are you guys talking about?”

joyce pauses with her hand on the ladder, looking back, “why wouldn’t she be sure?”

will glances between everyone, confused.

you feel heat rush to your face with anger, embarrassment, and frustration all at once. you step forward, “yeah, i’m sure. i’m not fragile.”

joyce’s brow furrows while looking at mike, “why would they even ask that?”

before lucas can open his mouth, you cut in quickly, “because i got sick a couple days ago. that’s all.”

robin nods slowly, buying it for now, “yeah, but we all thought you got over that.”

“i did,” you say, sharper than you mean to.

you brush past mike and lucas, swinging onto the ladder first. the wood is warm under your palms, and you descend faster than you should, boots clanging against the rungs.

underneath the tunnel air hits you which is damp, earthy from dirt, and familiar in the worst way. your flashlight beam shakes a little as you reach the bottom, and you stand there for a second, breathing hard.

you’re upset with mike and lucas for almost saying too much in front of robin and joyce. you’re upset that steve is somewhere in the upside down right now, chasing monsters instead of being here where you could finally pull him aside and tell him.

you’re upset that the only person you want to know this secret is the one person who still doesn’t.

you press a hand to your stomach under the thick sweater, feeling the small, steady curve, and whisper to the darkness, “just a little longer, okay? we’ll tell him soon.”

behind you, the others start climbing down one by one, voices echoing softly above. you take a shaky breath, square your shoulders, and start walking deeper into the tunnel, with your bright flashlight cutting through the dirt and gloom.

meanwhile in the upside down, dustin is adamant that hawkins lab holds the key to proving one of his theories about the wall, the gates, and the rest of it.

however, nancy’s mind is split in half which is half here, half back in the real world with you. nancy’s pacing in the abandoned church, frustration boiling over, “working on a solution?” she snaps at no one in particular, “i mean, if hopper has a solution to get through this and to get to holly, he should—he should share it with us!”

steve steps up beside her immediately, backing her without question, “i just say we ignore the old man. we keep moving, look for a door or something.”

jonathan shakes his head, “yeah… and um… just curious. this door of yours, it’s soft? like a peanut butter bopper?”

nancy rolls her eyes so hard it almost hurts. she knows exactly what he’s doing which is poking the bear.

steve’s head snaps around, "you got something to say, byers? why don’t you just say it?”

jonathan shrugs, but his tone is edged, “i’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t be making the calls from now on.”

nancy sighs, exhausted, but then steve’s stunned silence hits her. she can’t let it stand.

“it was not just his call,” she says firmly, stepping forward, “it was mine. because it is my sister we’re talking about.” she emphasizes the word sister like a shield, then points at steve, “and… i agree with steve.”

steve’s mouth falls open a little, a surprised, smug see? expression crossing his face as he glances at jonathan. nancy keeps going.

“okay, we can’t just sit here. i don’t know about a door, but this wall can’t go on forever. there has to be a way around it.”

dustin chooses that exact moment to slam open the lab’s rusted side door, face pale, "there isn't! the wall is a circle!"

later, while walking to hawkins lab with her group... nancy keeps glancing at steve who’s quiet for once. the man's jaw is tight, eyes distant. she knows exactly what he’s thinking about... it is you.

she wishes she could grab him by the shoulders and shake the truth into him about your secret, the baby, the reason she’s so desperate to get him topside. if something happens to him down here without him ever knowing… she can’t carry that for you.

“we should go back,” nancy says suddenly, voice cutting through dustin and steve’s low bickering about the best route, "steve, you should go back up. now.”

jonathan stops walking, turning slowly. his brow furrows, something sharp and old flickering behind his tired eyes, “why him specifically?”

nancy hesitates, lips pressing thin. steve and dustin are still arguing ten feet ahead, oblivious. she steps closer to jonathan, voice barely a whisper, “it’ll make sense later. just… trust me.”

jonathan’s mouth twists, suspicion and something that looks a lot like jealousy tightening his features, but he nods once, stiff.

back in the real world, the tunnels are cold and you’re walking a little ahead with mike beside you, lucas a few steps ahead as will and robin trail the group, their voices low.

you catch snippets with something about tammy thompson. of course you heard robin’s voice going soft and flustered. you smile despite everything since robin came out to you and steve in the back room of scoops ahoy two years ago. the both of you were sworn to secrecy, with both of you immediately supportive. you wish you could tease her right now, and distract yourself from the ache in your lower back.

above you, the scrape and thud of shovels since lucas and mike have punched through into the barracks bathrooms. there muffled shouts, running feet.

it’s time. the kids go down to meet you, then lucas, then robin to go into murray's truck. you wait your turn, hand pressed lightly to your stomach under the tan sweater.

another two hours later, everything has gone straight to hell.

you’re still in the tunnels with lucas and two kids who missed the truck to murray and joyce’s voice crackled over the radio to lucas about a military swarm topside, gunfire, chaos. you have no idea if mike and the others made it out.

the tunnel ahead is narrow, with vines twitching faintly along the walls. suddenly, s growl is heard and it is unmistakable when a demogorgon unfolds from the darkness in front of you, petals blooming open, teeth glistening.

“back up!” lucas shouts at the kids, spear raised, “y/n, you back up too!”

you grip the machete tighter, stepping forward instead, “lucas, i got it!”

“no!” he yells, voice cracking, “steve would never forgive me if something happened to you and the baby!”

everything was loud in the tunnel and the kids’ eyes go wide. you freeze for half a second, heart slamming against your ribs.

suddenly, there is more movement behind you and another growl. you whirl. it is a second demogorgon, closer, already lunging.

you swing hard with your weapon, and the blade bites into its shoulder, black blood spraying, but the force rips the machete from your hands. a clawed arm whips out, slashing across your lower forearm.

pain explodes white-hot, and the impact sends you stumbling sideways into lucas. he takes a raking slash across his chest, grunting as you both crash to the ground.

the kids scream, scrambling back and running away.

you hit the dirt hard, breath knocked out, with one arm cradling your stomach instinctively. tears blur your vision instantly and not from the burning cut on your arm, but from terror about the baby. your baby.

the demogorgon looms, petals spreading wide.

you sob once, helpless, watching it rear back to strike.

when you open your eyes, it stops.

its body jerks upward, hovering a foot off the ground. a sickening crack echoes as one limb twists backward, then another as bones snap like dry branches. all you could watch is its black blood spattering the tunnel walls.

it can’t be eleven... she’s in the upside down with hopper. it was something, or someone, that has it in a grip of pure force.

you stare, shaking, with blood dripping from your arm as your hand still pressed protectively over the small curve of your belly. all there was is tears streaming down your face as the creature’s body folds in on itself with one final, wet crunch.

the demogorgon’s corpse hits the tunnel floor with a wet, heavy thud, limbs twisted at impossible angles, black blood pooling around it. the echo of snapping bones still rings in your ears as you scramble upright, pain shooting through your slashed arm.

lucas is worse since he’s on his back, gasping, hand clutching the deep gashes across his chest, blood seeping between his fingers.

“lucas—oh fuck!,” you choke out, dropping to your knees beside him. your injured arm throbs and it is useless, so you press your good hand hard against the worst of his wounds, trying to slow the bleeding. it’s warm, too warm, soaking through your palm instantly, “stay with me, okay? just stay with me.”

he groans, face contorted in pain, but he manages a weak nod.

“help!” you scream into the tunnel, “somebody... please! we need help down here!”

your cries bounce off the walls, and for a terrifying moment you think no one’s coming.

minute pass and there is footsteps, fast ones, as flashlight beams swing around the corner.

joyce is first, with will and mike right behind her. relief floods you so hard your vision blurs.

they’re alive.

joyce skids to a stop, eyes sweeping the scene, “oh my god—”

mike’s gaze locks on you and he freezes, face going white.

“y/n—” he rushes over, dropping beside you, voice pitching high with panic, “steve’s gonna kill me. he’s literally gonna kill me.”

joyce and will exchange confused glances.

“what—she's okay? why would steve—” joyce starts, but then mike gently tugs the ripped sleeve of your tan sweater up your arm to get to your wound. at the same time, you use your good hand to caress the small but unmistakable swell of your stomach. this is while you lean back against the rough tunnel wall.

joyce’s breath catches and will’s eyes go wide at the realization.

“y/n, sweetheart,” joyce says softly, nodding toward your belly.

you nod once, tears spilling over again. there’s no point hiding it anymore.

“fuck,” mike mutters under his breath, hands shaking as he digs ointment and bandages from the pack, “i wouldn’t have let you down here if—”

“i was gonna come, regardless,” you cut him off.

you’re not fragile. you’re not useless, you needed to be here.

will kneels to help lucas, pressing fresh gauze to his chest.

“dustin was right,” he says quietly, glancing at you.

you blink at him through the pain, “what?”

“dustin knew something was off about you,” will explains, securing the bandage to your arm to help mike, “he only brought it up to robin and me the other day. he said you were always sick, which was weird because you used to brag about your ironclad immune system.” the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, tired smile.

you huff a wet laugh, the sound surprising you, “yeah, well… this baby needs the health at my expense, i guess.”

joyce reaches over, squeezing your knee gently as maternal warmth radiates from her even in this hellhole of an environment.

later, the group limps back through the tunnels toward wsqk. lucas leans heavily on mike and you lean on joyce with your good arm cradling your stomach, the slashed one bandaged tight against your side.

lucas breaks the quiet first, “so… demos floating. limbs snapping. dying. that was all you, will?”

will walks just behind, “i… um. yeah. i mean… yeah.”

“holy shit,” you mumble, awe slipping through the exhaustion.

“yeah, holy shit,” lucas echoes, grinning despite the pain, “you know what this means, right? you’re like will the wise, but for real!”

you smile, glancing back at will who is the quiet kid who just saved your life, lucas’s life, your baby’s life, “well, not really,” you say softly.

“he’s more like a sorcerer than a wizard.”

just then, a tiny flutter ripples low in your belly. it is soft, insistent, like butterfly wings. your breath catches but you don’t say anything, all your hand does is tighten protectively over the reminder that you’re still here... both of you are still here.

“but you get what i’m saying, though,” lucas presses, excitement cutting through his pain, “this changes the game! we got our second el.”

“i don’t think he’s a second el, lucas,” you say gently.

“yeah, i’m not,” will admits, “i’m just… siphoning. stealing from vecna, in a way. and to do that, i have to be near the hive mind. and vecna’s not coming back.”

“but his demos could?” you ask, voice small.

will hesitates, “i don’t think so. they came for the kids… and he’s got them all now. and he has his vessels.”

the word lands heavy when you, mike, and lucas all turn to look back at him.

“vessels?” you repeat, eyes stinging from pain and tiredness.

will nods, “that’s what he calls them. he said ‘vessels for reshaping the world.’”

mike’s face tightens, “lucas, i just hope your theory’s wrong.”

“what theory?” joyce asks, grip steadying you as you stumble slightly.

lucas’s voice drops, almost reverent, “november 6th. the day all of this started… is the day it ends.”

your eyes widen with fear blooming cold in your chest despite the warmth of the tiny life fluttering again inside you. the tunnel seems to stretch forever ahead but no one says anything else.

back in the upside down, nancy and jonathan are trapped in the upper levels of the lab. their shouts and attempts at safety are crumbling down the stairwell.

whatever the substance is, it climbs like a living thing, eating through concrete and steel.

steve’s heart is hammering and adrenaline is burning away everything except the need to get to them. he spots a ladder leaning against a wall closet. the latter is old, rusted, but solid enough.

he drags it toward the gaping hole in the stairwell where steps have already melted away, the edges glowing faintly red from the goo’s acid touch.

dustin sees it immediately. his face goes pale, “steve, what the hell are you doing? that’s not gonna work—stop! stop!”

steve doesn’t slow, positioning the ladder across the gap, “i can make it across, henderson. just hold it steady—”

“no!” dustin grabs the other end, yanking hard, “steve, stop! i’m serious! it’s not safe!”

the ladder wobbles dangerously. steve glares over his shoulder.

“it’s unstable, i got it already, okay?”

“no—don’t!” dustin’s voice cracks as he pulls harder, dragging steve back a step, “don’t! stop being an asshole!”

steve rounds on him, shouting over the distant groans of the building.

“i’m not! i’m trying to get to them!”

dustin’s eyes are wild, tears already streaking through the bloody grime on his cheeks. he’s shaking.

“no! you are always trying to get yourself killed and i can’t let that happen again!”

steve freezes mid-step.

“stop being so selfish,” dustin sobs, voice breaking completely, “you have a child on the way, please!”

the words slam into steve like a physical blow.

he goes still, breath stopping in his lungs.

“…what?”

dustin’s hands are fisted in steve’s jacket now, holding him back from the ladder like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

“if you go up there, you are going to die, and i can’t deal with having to tell y/n that you died knowing that she’s possibly pregnant with your child.”

steve’s world tilts. his mouth opens, but nothing comes out except a soft, stunned “what?” again.

dustin’s crying openly now, shoulders heaving.

“you can’t die because i can’t deal with looking at y/n in the face and explaining why! she’s pregnant and i heard nancy mention to jonathan that she was going to tell you once you got back up there and i—” his voice cracks again, “—i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i know i spoiled it but it was the only way you weren’t going to be so goddamn selfish and kill yourself. please!”

dustin is shaking harder as steve stands, speechless, “you can’t die. i can’t deal with it again. please, don’t let it happen again. please please please. y/n needs you, and I can’t... i can’t tell her you died. please.”

steve stares at him, wide-eyed, chest rising and falling too fast.

you’re pregnant.

you’re carrying his baby.

right now, while he’s down here playing hero, you’re up there with his child and he didn’t even know.

something in his face must break, because dustin surges forward and crashes into him, arms wrapping tight around steve’s waist, face buried in his chest.

“not you,” dustin sobs and his voice muffled against steve, “please not you.”

steve’s arms come up slowly, almost mechanically, wrapping around dustin’s shaking frame. he holds him close, one hand cradling the back of dustin’s head like he’s done a hundred times before, but this time his own eyes are burning.

“i’m sorry,” dustin whispers against his shirt, guilt thick in his voice. he knows he just stole something huge from you. he stole something that should have come from your lips in a quiet moment, not screamed in panic in this hell dimension.

behind steve, there’s a sharp hiss and a metallic groan.

the ladder... still half-propped over the melting gap... suddenly buckles. the rungs liquefy, the whole thing collapsing with a sickening screech as it drops several stories into the rising goo below, swallowed instantly.

dustin was right.

if steve had gone… he would've died.

steve’s grip tightens on dustin, his own breath ragged now. he stares at the empty space where the ladder was, then down at the kid clinging to him.

“she’s pregnant?” he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper, wonder and terror tangled together.

dustin doesn’t speak since he just nods against steve’s chest, horrified and relieved and still crying.

steve closes his eyes, holding dustin tighter, the weight of it all is crashing over him you since you are carrying his child in the real world while it burns... and he’s not there with you.

he presses his cheek to the top of dustin’s curly head, “okay. okay, i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

the hospital laundry room smells like bleach and warm cotton, the dryers humming low and steady like a heartbeat. you’re folded in on yourself on top of a washer with tears streaming silent and unstoppable down your cheeks.

max is awake, and alive.

you’re on your feet before you even register moving, and hug her with a sob that rips out of your chest. your arms wrap around her thin frame, careful of the hospital gown she is still wearing. the red-head hugs you back just as hard, with her fingers digging into your now green sweater like she’s making sure you’re real.

“i thought—” you choke out, face buried in her hair, “i thought we lost you, kid.”

she doesn’t answer with words, just holds tighter. suddenly, her hand shifts, sliding down your back, and she pauses. you feel it... the way her palm presses gently against the firm curve under your thick sweater. max pulls back just enough to look down, eyes flicking from your face to your stomach and back again.

“you’re…?” she whispers, voice rough from disuse.

you nod and swallow hard, “yes.”

max's mouth opens, then closes before a small and stunned smile tugs at her lips, something soft and wondering breaking through the exhaustion, “holy shit.”

you laugh through the tears, watery and relieved, and squeeze her once more before stepping aside.

eleven is waiting to hold max with her eyes shining, and you let her take your place, watching as the two girls cling to each other.

you drift back, leaning against the wall with one hand cradling your belly instinctively. the room beyond the laundry door is a blur of motion and muffled voices like mike hugging karen, llucas at max’s side, and robin and vickie tangled together in the corner, with their foreheads pressed close, whispering soft and fast about their enzo's date.

it’s everything at once with relief, love, grief, fear... and you feel it all pressing against your ribs because steve is still down there. it has been hours and hours with no word, and the secret is burning a hole straight through you.

robin notices your loneliness first. she crosses the room in three strides and pulls you into her side without a word.

vickie follows, wrapping arms around both of you until you’re sandwiched in warmth.

“he’s gonna come back up soon, okay?” robin murmurs against your hair, voice steady even though you can feel her shaking a little too.

you nod into her shoulder, breathing her in... shampoo and hospital soap and robin, “i know. i just—”

“but when were you going to tell me about the harrington baby?” she whispers, low enough that only you and vickie hear.

you let out a wet giggle despite everything, “not until after steve knew.... but i guess plans changed because of vecna.”

robin pulls back just enough to look at you, reading the guilt written all over your face.

she softens, brushing a thumb over your cheek, “hey! don't make that face... he’s going to love this baby. he’s going to be obsessed with this baby. you have nothing, and I mean nothing, to worry about.”

your bestfriend rests her head on top of yours, and you let yourself sink into the cuddle with vickie’s hand finding yours and squeezing.

later, everyone crowds in one spot as voices start overlapping with the next steps taking shape.

“we have to get back into the upside down,” you say, voice cutting through the murmur when max explains how she told holly to “go home” after pulling free of vecna’s mind, “to get holly?”

“where’s the nearest rift to you?” robin asks mike, leaning forward.

“off of cornwallis, i think,” he answers, rubbing his neck, “about a mile and a half, give or take.”

suddenly, static crackles from the walkie on the side table, “lucas, do you copy?”

lucas scrambles up, hopper handing him the radio, “erica, i really can’t talk right now—”

you watch him walk away heart thudding.

erica wouldn’t call unless it was big.

“okay, so vecna took out those soldiers,” mike starts, “so it should be a lot easier to get into the mac—”

“no,” hopper cuts in, voice gravel-rough as he settles on the edge of a washer, “they’re gonna have reinforcements by now.”

el speaks quietly, eyes on the floor, "i can break through a plate.”

the conversation swirls with mike arguing logistics, karen murmuring concerns about holly, and robin asking more questions. thankfully, lucas bursts back in, eyes wide.

“erica and mr. clarke came through,” he says, breathless, “they found dustin and the others.”

“where?” the word rips out of you louder than you meant, with your hand flying to your stomach as you stand too fast. you need Steve, you need to see him, touch him, tell him everything before anyone else does.

lucas meets your eyes, understanding flashing across his face, “well… they’re gonna find holly a lot easier than we are.”

hopper grunts in agreement, but before anyone can say more, vickie pushes through the heavy laundry room doors with an empty wheelchair, face tense.

“we better hurry,” she says, “we got company.”

your stomach drops.

later, the early-evening air hits through your dark green long-sleeve shirt as you stand clustered with the others at hawkins lab. kali stands quiet on one side, robin on the other with her arm brushing yours every few seconds like she’s checking you’re still there.

your hand rests low as all you can think about is steve right beneath your feet, somewhere in that red-black hell, breathing the same poisoned air you’re terrified of.

murray flips the walkie, static hissing loud as mike snatches it, voice urgent, “hey dustin, dustin it’s mike! holly’s escaped from vecna and she’s on her way to our house in the upside down! i need you to get there as fast as you can and rendezvous with holly. do you copy?”

you hold your breath, straining to hear anything through the crackle. your heart thuds hard against your ribs with baby fluttering faintly like it feels your anxiety too.

then... broken, faint, but there... dustin’s voice cuts through, “…holly is not at the house… we found her… we found holly-”

mike frowns, shaking the walkie, “what? dustin, say again—”

“mike,” you cut in softly, stepping closer, “he’s saying they found holly.”

robin nods quick, squeezing your arm, “yeah, he did.”

your knees almost buckle hearing that holly is found.

they have her.

the group shifts, moving toward the spot where eleven is already standing, arms out, eyes bleeding as she starts tearing open a new gate. the air ripples, red light spilling out like blood from a wound.

you trail a little behind, slower than usual with the ache in your lower back present. when the gate stabilizes, everyone starts filing through with hopper first, then joyce, then el, mike, and lucas.

you move to follow, but robin’s hand catches your wrist gently with vickie stepping up on your other side.

“no,” robin says quietly, “you stay.”

you stop, frustration flaring hot from the emotional mood swings that come with pregnancy, “what? i’m not helpless because i’m pregnant!”

“you’re right,” robin says, “you’re not helpless. but we don’t know what this weird air in there can do to the baby.”

“yeah,” vickie adds, offering a small and gentle smile, “we need baby to stay healthy, okay?”

you open your mouth to argue, but the words die.

they’re right, and you hate it.

your eyes flick to the gate, to the red glow beyond, “but steve?”

“steve will come out here,” robin promises while squeezing your hands, “you’ll be okay.”

she lets go only when you nod, reluctant, and follows the others through.

the gate shimmers as they disappear one by one.

max is still in her wheelchair behind you. she looks up at an emotional you, with her red hair tucked with braids as she smirks, “at least you have me, mama.”

you huff a watery laugh, reaching down to squeeze her shoulder, “yeah. lucky me.”

ten minutes drag like hours since you pace slow circles on the cracked asphalt, hand almost never leaving your belly with your eyes locked between max and on the gate.

when nancy first, then jonathan, and the kids, you breathe a sigh of relief as dustin steps through, dirt-streaked and exhausted

... and steve right behind him.

you gasp his name under your breath and you’re running before you think, sprinting across the pavement, tears already burning your eyes. steve’s head snaps up at the sound of your footsteps, and his face breaks open with something desperate.

he drops whatever bag he’s holding and meets you halfway with arms wrapping around you so tight you can barely breathe. you crash into him, face pressed to his neck, hands fisting his filthy shirt, breathing him in the sweat, ash, and steve.

“you’re okay,” you sob into his skin, “you’re okay.”

he makes a choked sound, arms crushing you closer, “i’m here. i’m here, baby.”

suddenly, body shifts with his hips pressing forward instinctively as he holds you... and he feels it.

it is the firm, unmistakable curve of your belly against his stomach.

he stills completely, not forgetting about what dustin said.

slowly, carefully, steve pulls back just enough to look down with his hands sliding from your back to your sides, then lower, palms settling gently over the bump through your green shirt.

steve's eyes follow, wide and stunned, tracing the small shape of it like he’s seeing it for the first time.

after, he looks up at you and you see it immediately... he already knows.

steve's eyes are red-rimmed, shining with tears he hasn’t let fall yet, mouth parted in quiet wonder and something deeper, something terrified and awestruck all at once.

there’s no confusion there and no question since he knows.

your breath catches with guilt and relief and love crashing together so hard you sway as tears spill over. you search his face, waiting for anger, for hurt that you kept it from him... but there’s none.

it is just steve, looking at you like you’re holding his entire world in your hands.

steve's thumbs brush slow over your firm belly, reverent, and when he speaks, his voice is rough and barely above a whisper.

“…we’re having a baby?”

part three

masterlist

you've been so careful. no literally, you've went as far as to avoid steve's touches, pulling away from his hugs with excuses about headaches or work for the past crawls. he has not noticed that something is wrong with you yet, since you only act that way once his hands reach down to your waist.

the world is falling apart again with vecna, and here you are, selfishly bringing a new life into this mess. yes, you know it took two to tango with steve, but guilt swallows you whole before you go to bed every night, since you are so scared about the future.

nancy sits beside you, her posture is straight and composed as always, though her eyes betray the worry that is deep within her features. mike paces nearby, his lanky frame casting long shadows on the linoleum floor, while lucas slumps in a chair across from you, his face drawn with exhaustion.

you're all here because of holly... sweet, innocent holly, snatched away by vecna's dark monsters... and karen, who's upstairs in a room, is recovering from surgery and bandaged from whatever horror unfolded at the wheeler house. the air smells of antiseptic and fear.

that is a cocktail that makes your stomach churn which is not good for your baby. you've been throwing up a lot lately, but you blame it on nerves whenever someone asks.

inside of the hospital, you can feel flutters inside of you, a remembrance to the fetus that you are growing into a baby. you're due in may of 1988, but that feels so far away knowing what is going on in hawkins currently.

as mike starts sighing, thinking of a plan to get holly back, a nurse approaches with her white scrubs crisp and her smile too bright for this grim place during the middle of the night.

she scans the room, and her eyes light up when they land on you.

"oh, hi there! y/n, right?"

you smile, forgetting about the reason why this nurse knows of you so well, "yes! hi, nurse kelly! how are you?" you ask. nancy, lucas, and mike listen and watch this interaction, silently wondering if this nurse could be another plan to reach karen in the back of the hospital.

"oh I'm doing fine for someone on the overnight shift! but enough about me... how's the baby doing? everything okay with your check-ups?" the nurse asks in concern, due to your presence in the hospital waiting room during the nighttime.

however, her words hit you like a punch to the gut. your blood runs cold, and you freeze with every muscle in your body locking up.

the baby.

your baby!!!

nurse kelly said it out loud, right here, in front of the very people in your friend group that are super quick to connect dots. panic surges through you, making your vision blur at the edges even though you try to keep a normal face.

you force a laugh, shaky and unconvincing, shaking your head vigorously, "what? i... i think you have the wrong person. i don't know what you're talking about."

the nurse frowns, tilting her head as she looks down at her clipboard, which had a blank paper on it, before she looked back up at you with curiosity, "huh- well aren't you the one who came in for the prenatal visit last month? you were eleven weeks along at the time? i remember because you because you seemed so nervous and alone, but everything looked great."

your throat closes up, as nancy's head snaps toward you, her eyes wide with surprise. mike stops pacing, staring openly, and lucas leans forward, his brow furrowed. the nurse, sensing the tension, mumbles an apology and hurries away down the hall, leaving you exposed like a nerve ending laid bare.

silence stretches, and you nearly want to cry since your biggest secret, your child, is now known to someone else that was not you.

a minute passes with the boys looking at you in shock, while your closest friend tries to find some words to say.

once she finds them, nancy stands, gesturing softly to the hallway, "y/n, can we talk? just for a minute?"

you nod numbly, your legs feeling like lead as you follow her out. the hallway is quieter outside of the waiting room with the beeps of machines and other distant echoes.

once you stop walking, you nearly wanted to cry as nancy turns to you, her expression a mix of concern and gentleness, the kind that makes your chest ache. she's always been strong, but has a softness that sneaks up on everyone.

you remember the days when you both navigated the tangled web of high school mess. before 1984, you were pining after jonathan... and her after steve, only to switch in that fateful year of 1984.

now, three years into your relationship with steve, and here you are, hiding the biggest secret of your life from him.

"what was that about?" nancy asks, her voice low and careful, like she's handling fragile glass, "the nurse… she mentioned a baby. your... um... baby."

tears prick at your eyes, and. you wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the sweater tighter, as if it could shield you from this confrontation, "it's nothing, nancy. she must have mistaken me for someone else."

nancy doesn't buy it, of course she does not. you've looked... different, lately. nothing too noticeable, but it is clear that you've been much more tired.

she steps closer, her hand hovering near your arm before she touches it lightly, "y/n, please. we've been through too much together for lies. if something's going on, you can tell me."

the dam breaks a little, emotions flooding out in a whisper, "i… i didn't want anyone to know.... not yet.... not with vecna and everything happening."

mike and lucas have followed, lingering at the hallway's entrance, their faces a blend of curiosity and worry.

mike rubs the back of his neck, awkward as ever, "wait, is this for real? like, you're pregnant?"

you shoot him a glare, but it's laced with fear, "mike, drop it."

mike doesn't, "hold on, a month ago, i heard you throwing up at the house before the 14th crawl. i thought it was that sketchy deli food downtown, the one with the bad tuna. but… was it morning sickness or something?"

lucas nods slowly, piecing it together, "yeah, and you've been wearing those huge sweaters for a few weeks, even on days when it's not that cold."

the boys, and their smart words pile on with each one stripping away your carefully constructed facade. you feel cornered, trapped, the weight of your secret pressing down until you can't breathe.

"fine," you snap, your voice trembling almost with shame, "yes, okay? i'm pregnant. thirteen weeks. but I can't... i don't want to talk about it right now."

nancy's eyes soften further, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing yours.

"y/n, can i… with your permission, can i see?"

you hesitate, terror clawing at your throat. unfortunately, they're right... everyone will find out eventually. with a shaky nod, you let Nancy lift the hem of your navy blue woven sweater, just enough to reveal the small, rounded bump beneath.

it's not huge, but it's unmistakable now with a soft curve that speaks of the life growing inside you.

nancy gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

"oh my goodness," she breathes, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and shock, "it's real. you're really… y/n, this is amazing... but.... but you have to tell steve, if you haven't."

the mention of his name sends a fresh wave of panic crashing over you since steve... your beautiful and loving boy steve, with his easy smile and protective streak, does not know about his child growing inside of you.

you've been dating for three years, but this changes everything, "i can't, nancy. not now. what if he freaks out? what if he thinks it's too dangerous with vecna around?"

she shakes her head, her grip on your arm firm but kind, "steve adores kids. you know that. he's always talking about them, how he'd be the best dad. he'd be over the moon."

lucas chimes in, his voice steady despite the chaos around you, "yeah, man. steve's like, the king of babysitting. remember how he handles the kids? he'd be the happiest guy on the planet. well, besides all this vecna crap."

you swallow hard, tears spilling over now, "but holly's missing. taken by vecna and karen's in this hospital, hurt. i can't distract from that. it's not the time."

nancy pulls you into a gentle hug all of the sudden, with her arms wrapping around you with a warmth that makes you sob quietly into her shoulder.

"holly's disappearance isn't your responsibility, y/n.... not right now. your only responsibility is this baby. the rest of us... we'll track her down, we'll fight but you need to take care of yourself and that little one."

nancy's words are meant kindly, but they stir a fear of uselessness inside of your body. you've always been in the thick of the fighting, fighting alongside steve, wielding whatever weapon you could find. now, with this bump, this life depending on you, you feel sidelined, like dead weight.

"i don't want to be useless," you whisper, pulling back to wipe your eyes, "i hate feeling like i can't help."

mike steps forward, his usual sarcasm softened, "you're not useless, y/n. come on. you're carrying a whole kid in there. that's like, the opposite of useless. that's creating life while the upside down world is trying to end it."

nancy nods, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder, "exactly. and does robin know? she's your best friend... she'd want to be there for you."

you shake your head, "no. no one knows. just me… and now you guys."

the hallway feels like it is closing in smaller. there is a tiny spark of joy buried deep under the terror, but still. nancy's presence grounds your emotions since she is supportive, and her friendly gaze reminds you of the bond you've shared through battles.

"you have to tell steve," she says again but softer this time, "he deserves to know, and you'll feel better once it's out."

the thought terrifies you since what if he resents you for keeping it secret? what if the world crumbles before this baby even has a chance?

you nod anyway while staring into nancy's bright eyes, because deep down, you know she's right.

you all head back to the waiting room, and you feel exposed even with the navy blue sweater pulled down firmly over your belly. nancy settles beside you again, her hand finding yours under the armrest, squeezing gently.

it's a small gesture, but it reminds you that you're not alone in this nightmare while carrying a child. mike and lucas exchange glances, trying to act casual, but you can see the wheels turning in their heads... the shock, the questions they are biting back from you.

"i'm almost four months," you murmur, correcting yourself slightly from the thirteen weeks, but it feels close enough, "i'm about three months along, and i found out right when things started getting weird again with vecna in the summer time. i thought… i don't know, maybe if i ignored it, this pregnancy wouldn't be real.... or maybe i could protect my child by pretending."

nancy's thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, her touch soothing, "that's a long time to carry this alone, y/n. why didn't you say anything sooner?"

tears well up again, and you blink them away furiously as you adjust your body in the chair to accommodate your back, "because the world's ending, nance. again. holly's out there somewhere, scared and alone, and karen's back behind that door fighting for her life. how could i drop this bomb? it feels so selfish... like, who am i to bring a kid into this nightmare?"

nancy leans in closer beside you, her voice a whisper meant just for you, "it's not selfish. it's human.... and that baby? it's a piece of you and steve. that is something good in all this bad."

you think back to how it all started with those cute moments with steve after the switch in '84. you and nancy got caught up in the upside down stuff and at the time... you'd crushed on jonathan hard since his quietness sparked a curiosity in you. this is while nancy was unhappy with steve. however, fates twisted and suddenly steve's eyes were on you once the both of you started working at mall together with robin.

three years later, and steve's become your heart, but this secret has built a wall between you, any happiness around you.

lucas clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood, "steve's gonna flip in a good way. remember how he was with us kids during the upside down stuff? guy's a natural dad."

mike snorts, but it's fond, "yeah, he'd probably start building a crib tomorrow if he knew."

the boy's words spark a flicker of warmth in your chest, cutting through the cold dread.

you looked to your right and took a glance toward the doors, where doctors rush by and wyou onder about holly... tiny holly, with her wide eyes and innocent questions. the guilt resurfaces, "but what about holly… we have to focus on her. i can't be the reason we get distracted."

nancy's eyes meet yours, "stop that. we're a team, y/n. we handle multiple fronts. your baby is priority one for you now. let us worry about the rest."

the woman's kindness undoes you a little more, emotions bubbling up with gratitude mixed with fear, and a love for this friend who's seen you through hell.

you squeeze her hand back, hoping to draw strength from her.

the waiting room clock ticks on, each second a reminder of the battles ahead. you feel the bump shift slightly as you move, a tiny reminder of the life within.

you could tell that the conversation was unfinished, since nancy keeps looking at you. it takes her a few moments before she pulls you into another quiet exchange.

"tell me more," she says softly, "how have you been feeling? physically, i mean."

you hesitate, "tired. so tired. and the nausea... god, it's been awful. i threw up every morning for weeks. that's what mike heard, i guess... and emotionally… i'm a mess. happy one minute, terrified the next. what if vecna comes for me? for the baby?"

nancy listens, "that's normal, y/n. pregnancy's hard enough without monsters but you're strong. you've fought demogorgons, mind flayers. you can do this."

mike interrupts while leaning in, "so, uh, is it a boy or girl? or too early?"

you shake your head, "too early... but i don't care, as long as it's healthy."

lucas grins, "steve or stevia junior, maybe."

the banter helps, and you laugh for the first time since you saw steve this morning.

speaking of steve, you wonder when you'll have the guts to tell him about his child...

part two

There’s a line wrapped around the front of the house—girls in oversized sweaters slipping off their shoulders, boys pretending not to shiver in denim jackets, everyone buzzing with the anticipation of being let inside. You and Robin don’t stop. You never do.

Eddie Munson is stationed at the door like a gargoyle.

He’s leaning against the frame, boot propped up behind him, leather jacket worn and cracked like it’s lived a hundred lives already. A cigarette is tucked behind his ear, unlit for once, and his grin is sharp and waiting, like he’s been bored until this exact moment.

“Well,” he drawls, pushing himself upright, eyes lighting up when he sees you, “hello, beautiful ladies.”

Robin sighs like she’s known this was coming all day. You just tilt your head, amused despite yourself.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Eddie adds, sweeping an exaggerated bow.

You and Robin exchange a look—hers playful, yours cautious, already bracing for whatever comes next.

“Staying out of trouble tonight, Munson?” Robin asks, folding her arms.

Eddie clutches his chest. “What’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” Then his eyes slide to you, slow and deliberate, grin turning mischievous. “How’re you doin’ tonight?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, heat creeping into your cheeks even though you tell yourself there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Robin hooks her arm through yours, tugging you closer like she’s protecting you from a predator.

“Nuh-uh,” she says firmly. “Stop trying to hit on my roommate. She has standards.”

Eddie makes an exaggerated noise of pain, blowing a raspberry. “Wow. Betrayed. Absolutely betrayed.” He gestures toward the door with a lazy flick of his wrist. “If you’re lookin’ for Harrington, he’s inside waitin’ for you.” 

Then, because he can’t help himself, he turns back to you, eyes bright. “Save me a dance, sweetheart?”

Eddie Munson, well you weren’t sure about his story. A troubled man, ex-junkie drug dealer, and a huge flirt. He was best friends with Steve Harrington, and because of that honor, he was like Pike’s honorary mascot. You saw him more at the fraternity house than most of their actual members. You had no idea if he was even a college student. You were pretty certain he lives in his van and parks it around campus. But sometimes, he convinces Steve to let his band, Corroded Coffin, play at their parties, but tonight it seems he was on bouncer duty. 

“In your dreams, Munson,” you say, and you don’t miss the way your mouth curves upward when you do.

Robin laughs, triumphant, and pulls you inside before Eddie can respond. 

The house swallows you whole.

Heat hits first—bodies packed too tightly, air thick and damp, the kind that sticks to your skin almost immediately. Music pulses through the floor, something heavy on synth and bass, loud enough that conversation becomes a series of leaned-in mouths and shouted words. The walls are plastered with old posters and banners you’ve seen a hundred times, but tonight they look warped and unreal under dim lights and cheap colored bulbs.

You step carefully, sneakers sticking slightly to the floor. Beer. Definitely beer.

You make a mental note—again—of how the Pike house is normally full of furniture. Couches, chairs, tables. Tonight, it’s all gone. You imagine it shoved upstairs, crammed into bedrooms that are strictly off-limits during parties unless you’re a girlfriend or someone important.

You are allowed upstairs. Technically. Thanks to Robin, but you rarely go up there except to bypass the bathroom line downstairs. 

She navigates the crowd with purpose, fingers laced through yours, tugging you along like she’s afraid you’ll get lost. You don’t mind. You like this—being an observer, watching the way people move when they think no one’s paying attention. The way couples cling to each other like life rafts. The way frat boys puff up, loud and careless, like the world has never told them no.

And then Robin stops.

Her entire body seems to brighten, posture shifting, smile blooming as she spots him across the room.

Steve Harrington.

He’s near the kitchen, surrounded by people, solo cup in hand, looking infuriatingly at ease. His hair is perfect, like it always is, soft and intentional without looking like he tried. He’s laughing at something one of the guys says, head tipped back slightly, and for a moment you understand why people orbit him so easily.

Social chair. Future president. Pike royalty.

Robin tugs you forward, crosses the room, quickly coming up to her boyfriend.

Their greeting is familiar. Robin wraps her arms around him, pressing herself into his space like she belongs there. Steve smiles down at her and presses a quick kiss to her cheek—not rushed, not sloppy. Gentle.

You’ve always thought it was charming.

Most couples here are a mess of limbs and mouths, hands everywhere, dry humping against walls without a shred of shame. But Steve is different with Robin. He keeps a steady hand at her back. He asks if she’s okay. He doesn’t make her perform affection for an audience.

They don’t do PDA.

When you really think about it—when you let yourself linger on the thought—you realize you’ve only ever seen them kiss on the lips once. And even then, it barely lasted a second, like something private that accidentally happened in public.

Still, Robin looks at him like he’s everything.

She talks about him constantly. How sweet he is. How he cares so deeply about the people that are close to him. How he’s smart, but pretends he isn’t. How loyal he is. You always listen, nodding and smiling. 

You hate that you notice the thing that doesn’t quite fit.

Because something is off.

It’s small. Easy to ignore. But you’ve seen it before—in the moments when Robin’s attention is elsewhere. The way Steve’s gaze lingers on you just a beat too long. The strange curve of his smile when your eyes meet, like he’s amused by something you’re not in on.

It always makes you shift on your feet, suddenly aware of yourself in a way you don’t like.

Like now.

Robin pulls back from him, still smiling, still talking, and Steve’s arm settles around her shoulders automatically, his palm never actually touching her. It’s always closed in a safe fist. But his eyes are already on you. He takes a slow sip of his drink, gaze steady, unreadable.

“Hey,” he says, voice smooth and easy.

“Hey,” you reply, matching him without thinking.

His eyes flick over you—quick but thorough—and then he turns back to Robin like nothing happened.

“Why were you so late?” he asks her. “The boys were asking about you.”

Robin exhales. “Sorry. I had to finish a paper.”

Which is true. Unfortunately.

You picture the library—dim lights, stacks of books, Robin scribbling furiously beside you while you stared at a blank page like it was mocking you. Same assignment. Same major. Absolute hell. Your own paper is due in three days, still barely an idea, but tonight had felt like a necessary escape.

Steve hums sympathetically. “English major problems.”

“You have no idea,” Robin says.

You nod quietly, and Steve looks at you again.

“You here to do some people watching?” he asks.

You blink, surprised he notices, or maybe he remembers the passing comment you made once to Robin. “Actually, I might try to find someone to make out with tonight.”

Something shifts in his expression. Jjust slightly. A small smile, private, like it’s meant for him alone.

Robin laughs. “The essay is that bad, huh?” 

You shrug, averting your eyes from Steve’s heady, half-lidded gaze towards you. You’re only imagining it. 

Then someone calls his name from across the room. Steve squeezes Robin’s shoulder before stepping away. Steve turns, already half-moving, and as he slips past you his hand presses briefly into the small of your back. It has to be an accident. It has to be. It isn’t enough to make a scene. Just a light, steady touch that sends a shiver skittering up your spine despite yourself.

He doesn’t look at you.

But you feel him all the same—the warmth of his palm through your shirt, the way his presence lingers a second too long. He smells like clean soap and something faintly citrusy beneath the beer, a sharp, bright note that cuts through the heavy, stale air of the party. It’s stupid how intimate it feels, how your body reacts before your mind can catch up.

And then he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd like he was never really yours to notice in the first place.

Robin watches him go, fond and open, like she doesn’t doubt a thing.

You turn toward the drink table, heart doing something inconvenient and heavy, and tell yourself, for the third time since arriving, that it doesn’t mean anything.

Robin gets the drinks.

Or—more accurately—Robin takes charge of the situation, leaning over the folding table with the coolers beneath it, shouting something at a frat boy you don’t recognize, already fishing for cups before he can answer. You hover close, watching her movements with idle fascination. She does everything with confidence, like she’s never once worried about being in the way. Like she belongs in rooms like this.

The drinks are warm and sweet and too strong. You barely taste the alcohol over the sugar, but it settles heavy and pleasant in your stomach anyway.

Before you can even take a second sip, Robin’s face changes.

Her eyes light up, head snapping toward the speakers like she’s been summoned. The opening notes of a song spill through the room—something fast, familiar, impossible to ignore—and she grins, already reaching for you.

“Oh—come on,” she says, grabbing your wrist. 

You barely have time to protest before she’s dragging you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with practiced ease. Your cup sloshes dangerously, a few drops spilling over your fingers, but Robin doesn’t slow down. She pulls you straight into the thick of it—the dance floor packed shoulder to shoulder, heat rising in waves, lights flashing just erratically enough to make everything feel unreal.

The music is loud enough that it rattles your teeth.

Robin turns to face you, laughing, hair already slipping loose from its perfect shape. She dances close—closer than necessary—hands settling on your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You follow her lead, letting the rhythm take over, the alcohol smoothing out the parts of you that usually hesitate.

You dance together easily. In the way that girls do when they don’t really want to dance with anyone else, but want to have fun. 

Her hands slide over your hips, your back. Yours find her shoulders, then her waist, fingers curling into fabric. You move in sync, bodies brushing, laughing when you bump into someone else. It feels carefree. Safe.

And then you notice him.

Steve is still near the kitchen, drink in hand, talking to a group of people you don’t know well enough to name. He looks relaxed, nodding along, smiling at the right moments. But every so often—just enough that you start to doubt yourself—his gaze flicks toward the dance floor.

Toward you.

You catch it out of the corner of your eye. His expression tightening for half a second, something dark flashing across his face. It’s gone before you can really understand it, replaced by that easygoing look he wears like armor.

You tell yourself you imagined it.

Still, the thought lingers, prickling at the back of your neck.

“Why doesn’t Steve ever dance with you?” you ask suddenly.

The words come out unfiltered, carried away by the music and the alcohol and the closeness of Robin’s hands.

“What?” she shouts, leaning in.

You raise your voice, heart thudding for no reason you can explain. “Why doesn’t your boyfriend ever dance with you?”

Robin blinks.

Just once. Quick. Like she wasn’t expecting the question.

Then she laughs, bright and effortless, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Steve isn’t a dancer,” she says. “Besides,” she squeezes your waist playfully, spinning you just a little closer “Why would I give up my best dance partner?”

You smile back, but something in your chest doesn’t quite settle.

You tip the rest of your drink back, the burn sharp and welcome, and when you look up again your eyes drift automatically toward the kitchen.

Steve is looking at you.

Not Robin. You.

Your throat tightens. You swallow, breaking eye contact first, leaning in close to Robin’s ear.

“I think he wants to dance with you now,” you shout.

Robin’s eyes crease as she follows your gaze. She tilts her head, studying him for a moment, something thoughtful crossing her face. Then she sighs, shoulders dropping just slightly.

“Be right back,” she says.

She presses a quick, affectionate squeeze to your arm before slipping away into the crowd.

You watch her go, watch the way she approaches Steve, the way he immediately turns his body toward her. They start talking. Their faces serious, gestures small but deliberate. It doesn’t look like flirting. It looks like a discussion. Something heavier than the music thumping around them.

You look away before you can read too much into it.

Your cup is empty.

You decide to get another drink.

The walk back to the table feels longer this time, the crowd thicker, the noise more pressing. As you wait for someone to notice you, you realize—vaguely, distantly—that you don’t actually know that much about Steve and Robin.

Not really.

You know the basics. High school sweethearts. Same small town somewhere in Indiana. They came to college together, already a unit, already established. Robin is polished in a way that feels intentional—long brown hair always curled and glossy, makeup perfectly done even on days when she swears she “didn’t try.” Her clothes fit her like they were chosen with care, tailored just enough to look effortless.

You assume it has something to do with her father.

A state representative. A name people recognize. You imagine dinners with the right people, careful manners learned young. Robin never talks much about her family, but you can see it in the way she carries herself. Classy. Composed. Always in control.

Steve is the same in a different way.

Perfectly put together. Clean lines. Neat clothes. Money that doesn’t need to be announced because it’s already obvious. Pike legacy. His last name carries weight here—his father’s donations probably paid for half the building you’re standing in. You wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a plaque somewhere with his name on it.

But there’s one thing Robin talks about more than anything else when it comes to Steve.

He doesn’t know what he wants.

He’s stressed. Lost. Panicking quietly about declaring a major this year, about expectations he’s never questioned but suddenly can’t meet. For all the polish, all the confidence he projects, that part of him feels strangely unfinished.

You fill your cup, lost in thought, and tell yourself it’s none of your business.

Still—your eyes drift back to where Steve and Robin are standing.

And you can’t help but look.

Steve throws back the rest of his drink like it personally offended him.

You notice it because it’s sudden, the casual ease gone, replaced by something sharp and restless. He tilts the cup up, drains it in one go, jaw tight, throat working as he swallows. He says something to Robin you can’t hear over the music, then turns and pushes into the crowd without waiting for her response.

Robin groans.

It’s quiet, but you see it clearly, the way she tips her head back, eyes closing for just a second like she’s counting to ten. Her shoulders sag, posture losing some of its polish, and then she’s scanning the room. Searching. Her gaze flicks over faces until it lands on you.

She exhales and makes her way over, weaving through bodies with less enthusiasm than before. When she reaches you, there’s an apologetic smile already pulling at her mouth, like she’s practiced this expression.

“Hey,” she says, leaning close so you can hear her. “I’m so sorry, but I have to do… uh—” she gestures vaguely with her hand “Girlfriend duties. Talk to some people with Steve.”

You nod, already bracing for it.

“Will you be okay?” she asks. “Do you want Steve to get Eddie to take you back?”

You shake your head immediately, smiling to soften it. “No, I’ll be fine,” you say. “Might try to find some guy to make out with now.”

You wink.

Robin laughs, big and relieved, like you’ve just taken something heavy off her shoulders. “Okay!” she says. “No more than an hour. I promise.”

She grabs two beers from a passing tray, presses one briefly into your hand, then hip-bumps you affectionately before disappearing back into the crowd.

You watch her go.

She finds Steve near the far side of the room. He’s talking to a blonde girl with a tight perm and a laugh that carries even over the music. Robin steps right into his space, familiar, easy. Steve turns immediately, attention snapping back into place, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders with deliberate ease.

Something in your chest loosens.

You tell yourself you imagined the tension earlier. The looks. The strange heaviness. This is what normal looks like. Robin tucked into his side, Steve nodding along as she talks, his hand resting securely against her arm. He must’ve just been upset she wasn’t hanging out with him earlier. That’s all. Maybe he wanted her attention and didn’t know how to ask for it without sulking.

It makes sense.

Then Steve lifts his beer.

He takes a sip, eyes half on the conversation, half somewhere else. As Robin talks to the blonde girl, animated and charming, Steve’s head tilts slightly—like he’s listening for something beneath the noise. His gaze drifts, unfocused at first, tracing the ceiling, the floor, the blur of bodies moving around him.

And then his eyes land on you.

Not dramatically. Not obviously.

Just enough.

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t look away right away either. His expression is unreadable—flat, thoughtful, distant in a way that makes your skin prickle. Like you’ve interrupted something private just by existing in his line of sight.

You gulp.

Immediately, you pivot, turning your body away too fast to be casual. You move toward the edge of the room, claiming a corner near the wall where the lights don’t reach as brightly. You nurse your drink, taking slow sips, eyes fixed anywhere but him.

Your heart beats a little too hard.

He must really dislike Robin hanging out with you, you think.

That has to be it.

By the time you realize you’ve talked to three different boys, you also realize you don’t remember a single one of their names.

They blur together in your head—too loud, too close, all leaning in with the same practiced confidence. One of them keeps touching your arm like it’s punctuation. Another smells aggressively like cologne. The third is trying to explain something about his econ class like it’s meant to impress you.

You smile. You nod. You laugh when you’re supposed to.

And then you excuse yourself.

You slip away while one of them is mid-sentence, threading through the crowd with purpose until the noise dulls just enough to feel manageable. You find a narrow hallway tucked away from the main room—dim, quiet except for the distant thump of music vibrating through the walls.

You lean back against the cool plaster, exhaling.

Your drink is mostly melted ice now. You cradle it anyway, grounding yourself with the condensation slicking your fingers. The hallway smells faintly like cleaning supplies and old carpet, a strange relief after the sweat and beer and bodies.

You close your eyes for just a second.

“Fucking unbelievable—”

The voice cuts itself off abruptly.

You open your eyes.

Steve Harrington stands a few feet away, frozen mid-step like he didn’t expect anyone else to be here. His expression shifts quickly—from irritation to something guarded, something carefully neutral.

He clears his throat.

The light in the hallway is low, but not low enough to miss details. You notice them immediately, whether you want to or not. The striped polo stretched across his shoulders. Tight Levi’s sitting low on his hips. White Nikes scuffed just enough to look worn-in. There’s a thin chain around his neck that catches the light when he moves, glinting softly against his skin.

His eyes look darker here, glossy under the dim bulb. You can see the small moles scattered across his face, details you’ve never been close enough to notice before.

His gaze flicks over you. There is no rush in it.

“Sorry,” he mutters, like he’s intruded somehow.

“Don’t be,” you say too quickly, the words tumbling out before you’ve thought them through.

There’s a pause.

It stretches, heavy and strange, filled with the distant echo of music and the sound of your own breathing. You become acutely aware of how close he is. How this is—technically—the first time you’ve ever been alone with him.

It’s unsettling.

It’s awkward.

“Everything… okay?” you ask.

Your voice sounds smaller than you meant it to.

Steve’s jaw flexes. He looks away for a moment, staring down the hallway like the answer might be written on the wall.

“Oh—yeah,” he says slowly. “It’s just…” He glances back at you, cautious, measuring. Then he lets out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Relationship shit.”

You tilt your head, studying him. It doesn’t match what you know—or think you know. Robin is always talking about him, always doting, always smiling like nothing in the world could touch them.

“Oh?” you say absently. “Sorry—that’s not meant to pry…”

He chuckles, low and brief, and shifts to lean against the wall across from you. He doesn’t crowd your space, but the hallway suddenly feels much smaller. He’s still facing you.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not that serious.” He shrugs. “Robin is just… picky.”

“About what?” you ask, laughing softly.

Steve’s mouth curves into a smirk, slow and deliberate. “Again,” he says, “relationship shit.”

You nod like you understand, even though you don’t. Not really.

“Right,” you say, lifting your cup and taking a sip, mostly to give yourself something to do.

His expression shifts.

It’s subtle, but you catch it—the way his eyes sharpen, something darker settling there. Something assessing. You hate that you’re standing directly in the line of it, like you’ve wandered somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.

“Let’s just say,” he continues, voice dropping, “I’m really impatient.”

You swallow.

The hallway feels warmer all of a sudden. Or maybe it’s just you. You feel strangely exposed, like you’re laid out on an examination table under his scrutiny, every small movement suddenly too noticeable.

Before you can think of another question, before you can decide whether you even want to, Steve pushes off the wall.

He gives you one last smirk.

Then he’s gone.

No goodbye. No explanation.

Just disappearing back into the noise, probably to find Robin again, leaving you alone in the hallway with a half-melted drink and a feeling you don’t quite have a name for yet.

By hour three, you are past the point of polite drunk and deep into the kind that feels like floating.

The music pulses through your ribs. The room blurs at the edges. You’re back on the dance floor with a boy you’re pretty sure you took algebra with freshman year, though his name has slipped cleanly out of your brain like it was never there at all. He smells like beer and cologne and warm skin, and his hands are bold, familiar in a way that feels easy to give into when you don’t want to think too hard.

You press back against him, laughing when he says something you don’t quite catch. His mouth finds the curve of your neck, breath hot, careless. You let it. Let yourself be held. Let yourself be wanted in a way that doesn’t require anything complicated.

You haven’t seen Robin in a while. Just once, maybe thirty minutes ago—her and Steve standing too close near the kitchen, talking in low, intense voices. It looked serious. Heavy. You almost went over. Almost asked if everything was okay.

Almost went home with Eddie instead.

But then this boy had said hello, and God, you must be really drunk if you can’t even remember his name.

The alcohol finally catches up to you all at once, a warm rush that settles in your stomach and sinks lower. You suddenly, desperately need to pee.

You pull away, scanning for the main bathroom. The line is absurd, snaking down the wall, full of annoyed faces and crossed legs. Fifteen minutes, at least.

You don’t have fifteen minutes.

So you head for the stairs.

Two freshmen pledges stand at the bottom like they’re guarding a palace instead of a frat house. They look you over, slow and appraising.

“Password?” one asks.

Oh. Right. The password.

Your brain stutters. “I’m— I’m friends with Robin Buckley,” you say, and then stall, because she definitely told you the password and you definitely don’t remember it.

Apparently that’s enough.

They step aside, and as you pass them, you hear one of them mutter, “Damn. Harrington’s getting kind of greedy tonight, isn’t he?”

You don’t know what he means, and you don’t stop to ask.

Upstairs feels like a different world.

The music dulls to a distant heartbeat. The air is cooler, cleaner. The hallway is lined with framed composites and plaques—Pike history displayed neatly for anyone who cares to look. Rows of smiling boys in navy suits. Greek Week medals. Philanthropy awards. Polished letters and old paddles hung like relics.

You slip into the empty bathroom and take a minute longer than you need, letting the quiet settle your spinning head.

When you come out, your eyes drift to the newest composite photo. You don’t mean to look for him. You just do.

Steve’s smile is wide and bright there, hair shorter, curls softer, like he hasn’t yet learned how to make himself look so untouchable. He looks younger. Kinder.

Girls are always telling Robin how hot her boyfriend is. Robin always laughs, always agrees. Once she even asked you what you thought.

You’d shrugged. He’s cute.

That was it.

You turn away, suddenly tired, suddenly missing your roommate. You’re ready to go back downstairs, to find Robin and tell her you’re heading out. The boy from algebra has probably already disappeared into someone else’s dorm by now.

It’s been a while since your last hookup anyway.

Then you hear it.

A soft voice down the hall. “Steve…”

You stop.

One door stands open.

Steve’s.

Oh. They must have come upstairs, you think. If the door’s open, it can’t be anything too serious. Right?

You walk toward it, ready to peek in, ready to tell Robin you’re going home.

And then you see.

Steve is inside.

Not alone.

He’s standing up, leaning against his desk. His shirt is gone. His hair is mussed, curls falling into his eyes. He looks undone in a way you’ve never seen before, breath unsteady, body tilted like he’s caught in something intense and consuming. 

And in kneeled in front of him—

Not Robin.

The blonde girl with the perm.

His hand is in her hair, fingers curled tight, intimate and unmistakable. His other one clutches the desk, knuckles white. The girl's head bobs, and Steve’s grip guides her. “Fuck… yes… just like that…”

Your brain goes quiet.

For a second, everything freezes—the hallway, the music, your own breath in your chest. Your drunken haze snaps into a terrible, aching clarity.

Then Steve makes a soft, broken sound—half laugh, half breath—and his eyes fly open.

They land on you.

His face goes blank first. Hard. Calculating.

And then he smiles.

A slow, ugly smirk spreads across his mouth, and in that moment, any charm he ever had drains straight out of him. All you can see is what he is now.

A cheater.

A liar. 

And he doesn’t even look ashamed.

He makes another quiet, filthy whine, almost like he’s amused you’re here to witness it.

You don’t stay long enough to see anything else.

You spin around, heart in your throat, and run.

Down the hallway. Past the awards. Past the perfect framed smiles.

You nearly collide with the pledges as you take the stairs two at a time, slipping back into the noise and heat and chaos below, heart pounding, stomach twisting, everything in you screaming to get as far away as possible.

You burst out the front door like you’re escaping a fire.

Cold night air slams into you, sharp and bracing, stealing what little breath you have left. You bend forward instinctively, hands braced against your knees, dragging in lungful after lungful that never seem to go far enough. Your chest burns. Your head swims. The thump of bass and laughter leaks through the walls behind you, muffled and distant now, like the party belongs to some other life you’ve already left behind.

You don’t know what to do.

Find Robin. Tell her. Make a scene.

The thoughts tumble over one another, frantic and useless. You can’t imagine standing in that crowded house and saying the words out loud. You can’t picture Robin’s face if you did. It would humiliate her. It would set something precious on fire and watch it burn in front of everyone.

But you also can’t lie.

The idea of looking her in the eye later—of hearing her talk about Steve the way she always does, with that quiet, devoted affection—makes your stomach twist violently. You’ve seen something you can’t unsee. You know something you can’t pretend away.

Your breath starts coming too fast, too shallow. The world tilts. You press a hand flat against your chest like you might be able to steady your heart there, like you can physically hold yourself together. The edges of your vision blur, dark spots flickering.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

A warm hand lands between your shoulder blades, solid and real, grounding you just enough that you don’t completely fold in on yourself.

You blink hard, forcing your eyes to focus. Through the watery haze you make out Eddie Munson crouched in front of you, curls wild, eyes full of concern. He looks like he’s afraid you might topple over if he lets go.

“Where’s Robin?” you manage. Your voice comes out wrecked, barely recognizable as your own.

Eddie frowns. “I dunno. You want me to find her? She might be with Steve—”

Your stomach flips violently.

You barely have time to turn before you lurch forward, the contents of your gut coming up in a hot, miserable rush.

“Oh… whoa, whoa,” Eddie says, quick and gentle, rubbing your back, holding your hair away from your face. “Hey, hey… easy. Did you have too much to drink? I can go get Steve, he can—”

“No!”

The word tears out of you, sharp and cracked. You straighten slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, breath ragged.

“No,” you say again, shaking your head. “Steve is… occupied.”

Eddie freezes.

“Occupied?” he repeats, carefully, like he’s afraid to hear the answer. “What do you mean, occupied?”

You lift your gaze to the second story of the house. One window glows faintly behind drawn curtains, a quiet, damning little square of light.

Eddie follows your eyes.

A slow, weary sigh leaves him, and he drags a hand down his face.

And that’s when you see it.

That look.

The one people get when something they were never supposed to know has just been dragged into the open.

Your stomach turns all over again.

He knows.

You take a step back, shaking, something sour and furious crawling up your throat. “You knew,” you whisper. “You knew.”

Eddie straightens, hands settling on his hips like he’s bracing for a blow. “You—” he swallows. “You didn’t tell anyone, right? What you saw?”

“You mean did I tell Robin?” you shoot back, anger cutting clean through the shock.

“Tell me what?”

Robin’s voice comes from behind you, bright and breathless and heartbreakingly normal.

You turn. She’s walking toward you, cheeks flushed from dancing, hair a little mussed, smiling like the night hasn’t just cracked wide open. “I was looking all over for you,” she says. “I thought maybe you went home with—” Her smile falters when she sees your face. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie licks his lips, scratching the back of his neck. “She saw Steve.”

Robin blinks. “Okay…?”

“Buckley,” Eddie says quietly. “She saw him. Upstairs.”

Robin’s eyes go wide.

Her gaze snaps to you, searching your face for confirmation, for something you can’t give her.

You feel like you’re drowning in whatever unspoken understanding is passing between them, like they’re speaking in a language you don’t know, a truth you were never meant to be part of.

Robin’s expression changes. Softens.

“Eddie,” she says gently, “can you drive her back to the dorm? Please?”

“What the hell is going on?” you burst out. “Why is everyone acting like—”

“Come on,” Eddie says, reaching for you. “Let’s get you some food and get you home.”

You step back.

“Robin,” you say, your voice shaking but loud, “Steve is up there with another girl. He’s cheating on you.”

Her eyes shine, glassy in the porch light.

“I know,” she says quietly.

You stare at her. “What?”

“I know what he’s doing,” she says. “Please. Just go with Eddie.”

“Robin—”

Her voice snaps, sudden and sharp. “Just stay out of it, okay? It’s not your business. If you think I need a shoulder to cry on, I don’t. So just drop it. And go.”

And somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

You look between them, chest tight, pulse roaring in your ears.

“Screw you both,” you spit, and then you turn and storm away.

You hear Eddie calling your name. Robin too—sharp and urgent—but you don’t slow down. Your eyes burn with frustrated tears, and you refuse to let either of them see them fall.

The night swallows you as soon as you hit the sidewalk.

The walk to your dorm isn’t far, not really, but it feels longer when the adrenaline fades and the alcohol creeps back in. The pavement wobbles under your feet. Your stomach still churns, sour and unsettled. The cold air bites at your skin, and for a brief, miserable moment, you wish you’d been less angry. Wish you’d let Eddie drive you.

You wrap your arms around yourself and keep walking.

God, Steve Harrington is a prick.

The thought hits hard and clean, slicing through everything else. You hate him now. Truly, deeply hate him, in a way that makes your jaw ache from clenching it.

And suddenly everything starts to click.

He wasn’t just naturally flirty. He wasn’t harmless, or charming, or casually kind. He had been flirting with you. With you. Right in front of Robin.

Every memory comes rushing back all at once—the way his hand lingered at the small of your back, the brush of his fingers against your arm, the looks that lasted too long, the curved smiles that felt private. None of it seems accidental anymore. It feels deliberate. Calculated.

Your skin crawls, like you’ve been brushed by something diseased, something you can’t scrub off fast enough.

You reach your dorm on shaky legs and push inside, grateful for the quiet, the dim hallway lights, the absence of everyone else. Robin isn’t there.

Of course she isn’t.

You slam the door shut behind you.

You don’t bother changing. Don’t bother washing your face or brushing your teeth or doing anything that might make this feel smaller. You stumble to your bed and fall face-first into it, exhaustion crashing over you in one heavy wave.