You and Steve agreed to keep things quiet for a reason. And what was it? You little asshole of a brother, as Steve usually called him.

Dustin Henderson was many things—smart, loyal, protective with the ones he loved—and he loved his big sister more than anyone. So he definitely wasn’t chill about her dating life. After years of watching her bring home guys useless pricks, he’d stopped trying to be nice to any of them.

So Steve had to stay as a secret.

Which is how he ended up in your bed, the door locked, his lips pressing loving kisses to your neck, making you try to hold your laugh when his hair kept tickling.

“This is a horrible idea,” you murmured, smiling. Your hands went to his head with the intention of pushing him away, but your body had a mind of it’s own, and instead your fingers slipped into his hair. God, you loved his hair.

Steve smiled at the feeling, lifting from your neck to kiss your mouth playfully. “I don’t see you stopping me”.

Before you could respond, the sound of the front door opening cut through the moment.

You both froze like statues.

Footsteps downstairs. A backpack dropping.

Steve pulled back truly now, eyes wide. “He wasn’t supposed to be home yet.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Okay. What do I do?”

“You hide.”

“Where?”

You scanned the room, already moving. “The wardrobe. Just—go.”

Another voice floated up the stairs. “Y/N? Are you home?”

Steve closed the wardrobe door, getting out of sight just as you heard your brother twisting the knob.

“I’m here, Dustin” you answered, trying to keep your voice steady, calming your breathing for all the kissing.

“Why’s your door locked?”

You hesitated. “Privacy?”

Dustin snorted. “You never lock your door.”

He forced the knob again, already convinced of something. You inhaled a deep breath before approaching the door, removing the lock and opening the door only slightly to reveal your brother giving you a suspicious look.

He didn’t push past you immediately. He just looked at you. Then at the room. Then back at you.

“You are hiding someone in there,” he stated.

“No.” You denied quickly, too quickly.

“You’re bad at lying, you know that?” Dustin asked giving you an obvious gaze.

He stepped in and you didn’t stop him so you didn’t seem even more suspicious, holding your breath unconsciously when he approached the wardrobe too much. But of course our good luck wouldn’t last forever, because it took Dustin about ten seconds to notice the shoes. The red Nike. Steve’s usual shoes.

Dustin sighed. You stood frozen, closing your eyes before looking at him with an innocent smile that didn’t work for anything else than Dustin throwing you an unimpressed look while automatically turning to the wardrobe.

“Get out,” he ordered with a honestly imposing voice for his age.

The door opened slowly to reveal a wary Steve, like he was wondering what reaction was the best option. “Hey, man.”

There was a long pause.

You waited for the lecture. The disappointment. The automatic fight you were used to.

But to yours and Steve’s surprise, Dustin crossed his arms and looked first to you, and then to Steve. “So…my sister?”

Steve nodded, between ashamed and faked nonchalance. Why was he so scared of a pre-teenager reaction?. “Yeah.”

Another pause. You wanted the Earth to swallow you. Then: “Huh.”

That was it.

“Huh? What does that mean?” you asked carefully.

Dustin shrugged. “I mean, I expected worse when I saw the door locked.” He looked at Steve. “I thought it would be one of those basket pricks you usually date. I mean, Steve was one of those, but he isn’t that much o an idiot now”

Steve blinked. “I—thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dustin continued, pointing at you. “Are you happy?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate

He nodded once. “Cool.”

Then he turned to Steve. “If you screw this up, though, I will make your life miserable, Harrington.”

Steve didn’t hesitate either. “Not planning to.”

Dustin nodded and headed for the door. “Good. And also, don’t make out when I’m home. That’s gross, you pervs.”

And then the door closed behind him, making you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Steve laughed softly, exhaling equally.

“Well,” he said, “that went better than we imagined.”

You smiled, blushing slightly as you approached him, snuggling into his chest. “Yeah. I’m somehow glad it happened. So we don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Can you make some with chocolate chips? Oh and some blueberry ones too?” you ask, completely ignoring his previous comments.

“What do I look like? Your personal chef?” Steve scoffs, flipping a pancake.

“Mhm, how about some cinnamon sugar ones too? Ooh what if we add cocoa powder to the batter?”

“You’re worse than the kids,” Steve sighs, taking a great deal of effort to sound annoyed, and turns his body to you. His arms cage you in on the counter and it’s obvious he can’t resist the smile emerging on his face. “That’s gonna cost you.”

“Five bucks?” you tease and wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Five of something,” Steve murmurs and leans in to kiss you.

Mike’s mouth goes dry, he should feel gross and look away but it’s hard when the sight feels mystifying. Like it’s something that defies the laws of nature and shouldn’t exist. His parents never flirt in the kitchen and his dad doesn’t help make breakfast. 

You only push Steve away when he tries to tug on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“That’s only one,” he complains.

“You’ll get the other four when the kids aren’t sleeping ten feet away,” you giggle and ruffle his hair. “Also you need to keep an eye on the food.”

“I put it on low for a reason,” Steve sighs, and turns to rifle through the cabinet next to you, pulling out ingredients. “Chocolate chips and cinnamon sugar?”

“Yes please,” you pick some lint off his shirt. “Oh and don’t make all of El’s waffles chocolate chip ones, she likes to–”

“Alternate in the stack,” Steve finishes. “I know, and move over, I need to get the waffle maker from the cabinet and your legs are blocking it.”

You sigh dramatically but scoot over to the side so Steve can crouch down and open the door. He pulls out one of those fancy Belgian waffle-makers that have four pieces and from what Mike can see it looks brand new.

“I can’t believe you actually spent your money on one of those,” you comment as Steve places it on the counter. He closes the cabinet door and tickles your ankle which causes you to squirm and lightly kick him.

“Cheaper to make them at home,” he comments standing up. “Also are those my socks?”

“I don’t see your name on them.”

“Very funny, you know I cleared out room in my dresser for a reason.”

“Yes and I appreciate that,” you reply, plugging in the waffle maker as Steve flips pancakes. “But you roll your socks.”

“So?”

“I like having rolled socks.”

“Roll your own damn socks.”

“I don’t like rolling my socks, also you buy the fancy compression ones.”

“Is this your way of asking me to buy you fancy compression socks?”

“Are you gonna roll them too?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve comments, as he’s standing there making cinnamon sugar pancakes all because you asked for them.

“I think that means I win,” you hop off the counter, kissing Steve’s cheek and nabbing two mugs to pour coffee. “Make some eggs and bacon too, the kids are gonna be hungry in two hours if we just give them sugar.”

“Yes chef,” Steve mockingly salutes you as you hand him a steaming mug. His mug has some football team’s logo on it and your mug is purple with little daisies. Mike figures it’s something that Steve never would have bought on his own.

Did he buy it so you would have a designated mug at his house, did you bring it over and “accidentally” leave it, or did you buy it together?

You gently blow on the liquid and take a few tentative sips. Then you just look over at Steve. Steve Harrington, who Mike once thought was just the popular teenage douchebag his sister had stupidly fallen for. Steve Harrington who took one hell of a beating from Billy Hargrove to defend Lucas. Steve Harrington who fought off demodogs with a baseball bat and would die before any of his kids got hurt.

You set the cup down and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back. He stills for a moment before smiling and bringing his free hand to rest on top of yours.

“Thought you were gonna wake up the kids?” he murmurs, a gentleness in his tone that takes Mike right back to last night.

“In a moment,” you whisper and squeeze his hand.

“Okay,” he whispers back and brings your hand up to his lips to kiss your fingers.

“I’m not sitting next to Steve.” You say, crossing your arms.

Dustin squints at you. “Is it because of last night?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

He groans softly. “Okay, first of all— I don’t want to sit up there either.”

You blink. “Why? You guys are best friends! Just sit next to him.”

“No. Things have been… weird.” He says, like it’s obvious. You stare at him, urging him to continue.

Dustin shifts on his feet, looking down. “It’s just… things have been different since Eddie… y’know.”

Before you can respond, Dustin’s eyes light up. “Oh, hey look.” He nods his head towards the entrance. “Crisis adverted.”

You follow his gaze.

Steve is walking out of the Squawk, keys in hand. Nancy is beside him. Not behind him. Not ahead of him. Walking with him. Close enough that their shoulders are brushing.

She’s talking, hands moving as she explains something. Steve listens, head tilted to her, that familiar soft face he only ever seems to give her.

Your heart aches. “Lucky us.”

Nancy reaches the passenger side first, as if she was already planning to sit there. Steve immediately unlocks the car, jogging around the car to open the door for her once again.

It’s stupid. You didn’t even want to sit there. You argued about it. Avoided it. Asked Dustin to take it.

So why does it feel like you lost something anyways?

Dustin heads happily and gratefully towards the backseat.

You linger for half a second longer, watching Steve walk around the hood of his car. He doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

You slide into the backseat, closing the door softly behind you.

As the car pulls away, Nancy laughs at something he said. He laughs too, a huge smile on his face.

You stare out the window, jaw clenched while jealousy pooled in your stomach.

You’re crouched on a chair near the ceiling, arms burning as you hold the rig in place. A small, thin, blue rope is tied to a jagged plank studded with nails. Perfect to slow down a Demogorgan.

The plan was simple: Drug the Turnbow family, trick the Demogorgan into thinking Derek is in bed, Demorgorgan will chase Lucas around, fall into all the traps, then we shoot a tracker in it and find Holly.

Simple, right?

“Careful.” Steve murmurs, steadying the chair with one hand. His other hand goes up to you, it doesn’t touch you but it’s inches away so if you do fall his hand is right there. “If that swings early, it’ll take someones head off.”

“Comforting.” You mutter, tightening the knot anyway.

Dustin peers up from below. “How long do you think this will slow it down?”

“Long enough to get Lucas down the stairs.” Mike says from inside the bedroom where he was setting up Derek’s fake body.

You tug the rope once. The plank swings, heavy and full of intent, stopping inches away from Steve’s shoulder. He flinches. “What the hell!”

“Sorry.” You sheepishly smile. “Was hoping it would take off your head.”

“Very funny.”

You grin despite yourself, easing the rope back into place. You carefully step down from the chair, stepping back to admire your work. You pretend to dust your hands off.

Mike sticks his head out of the room, “Dummy’s all set.”

Steve nods his head, already moving down the stairs. “Our work here is done. Be careful, step over the rope.”

Now onto phase two of the plan: Wait in the car until the Demogorgan comes.

You follow Steve and Dustin outside, the cold and night air hitting you.

Steve’s car sits at the curb on the other side of the street. Dustin customized his car so we could track and follow the Demogorgan faster, the huge satellite now sitting on top of it.

Dustin stops short beside it and looks between you and the passenger seat. “We are not doing this again.”

You sigh. “I’m not sitting up there.”

“Yeah, well.” He shoots back, “Neither am I!”

Steve is already unlocking the door on the driver’s side, clearly pretending he cannot hear the two of you.

Dustin holds up paper and rock with his hands, signifying rock, paper, scissors.

You hold your hands up as well, agreeing to the game.

Rock.

Paper.

Scissors.

Shoot!

You lose.

Dustin fist bumps the air, grinning.

“What! No! Best of three!” You whine, face turning red.

“Sorry, Y/N. We got a Demo to catch.” He says, very quickly slipping into the backseat. You groan, swinging the passenger’s seat open.

You hesitate before closing the door all the way, fingers resting on the handle like you might change your mind.

You don’t.

The door shuts with a soft click, sealing you into the front seat.

You stare right ahead, lips in a thin line, trying to ignore the stupid little spark of excitement flickering in your chest because you’re next to him. Doesn’t mean you forgot what he said though.

Steve clears his throat. “You guys gonna rock, paper, scissors over who has the binoculars too or…?”

You open the glovebox a little too hard, the latch opening with a sharp click. You grab the binoculars, tossing them to Dustin.

“Careful,” Steve says automatically.

“Relax. Your precious equipment is fine.” You say, looking out the window on your right.

Steve exhales slowly through his nose. “Is this about last night?”

“No. I don’t care.”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t care, when you very clearly do.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Seriously, Steve. I don’t care.”

“Y/N, can we just talk about it? I’m sorry. I don’t want things to be off between us.”

You scoff quietly, still staring out the window.

Steve turns a little in his seat, elbow resting against the center console. “Okay. Then what do you want?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate. “I want you to stop acting surprised when things are off. You can just stay stuff and then act like everything is fine.”

You swallow, fingers tightening in your lap. “I want you to stop saying things you don’t mean.” You continue, voice quieter now. “And I want you to stop pretending like it doesn’t affect people when you do.”

Steve doesn’t answer right away.

So you keep going. Because once you start, it’s hard to stop. Word vomit.

“I’m not asking for—“ You huff a breath, shaking your head. “I’m not asking for a million dollars. I just hate how you make me feel stupid. It hurts Steve, it really does…”

You trail off.

Because Steve isn’t looking at you anymore.

His eyes are fixed to his left, through the window. Through the living room of the Turnbow house across the street. Nancy moves past the window, talking to Mike, her silhouette familiar even from here. Steve’s staring as if he just spotted a diamond in the ocean.

Your stomach sinks.

You follow his gaze for half a second, looking away just as quickly. Heat crawls up to your neck and you feel your eyes getting watery. Every word you said feels embarrassing, even worse because Dustin witnessed it all.

“Nevermind.” You mutter, wiping your eyes.

Steve blinks, his head snapping to yours. “What?”

“Nothing.” You wave it off, refusing to look at him. You could feel your eyes getting more watery by the second.

You feel a light touch on your shoulder. Dustin.

His hand is warm and steady, enough to remind you that someone sees you, someone knows you’re hurting.

You swallow hard, the tears you’ve been trying so hard to hold back finally escape, running freely down your cheeks.

The streetlights down the block flickers.

It hums low, like it’s struggling to stay alive.

You straighten up, wiping your eyes. Your heart pounds as it gets closer. Dustin’s hand tightens on your shoulder, noticing it too.

“Moving South down Arlington, T-minus 30 seconds.”

Steve repeats that into the walkie-talkie, “Status check. Taggers?”

Nancy responds. “In position and set. Launcher?”

“Set.” Lucas says. “Catcher?”

“Set. Trackers?” Mike asks.

Steve looks at Dustin. “Set. Let’s do this thing already. Seatbelts on you two.”

You rush to put your seatbelt on, stopping when the flickering lights travel through the rest of the street and into the house. Let’s hope everything goes right.

“It’s inside. Minimize chatter.” Dustin says, looking through the binoculars. Steve tells everybody that it’s inside and to stay quiet.

You bounce your leg anxiously, watching as the house flickered like crazy.

And then—

Movement.

Something tall and slimly crosses Derek’s window.

Your blood turns cold.

From the car, you can barely hear anything but you could hear the faint sound of the traps. The plank falling, Demogorgan shrieking, falling through the house, and then the bullet.

Tracker is in.

A few moments go by until Mike’s voice comes through on the talkie. “It flipped! IT FLIPPED!!”

You immediately turns the dial, “Got it.”

Steve turns in his seat. “How close?”

You don’t respond, watching in confusion as the numbers went higher and higher.

“Y/N, how close?!” Steve shouts, smacking your seat. You flinch, shooting the dude a dirty look.

The car responds for you though, the dashboard flickering like crazy.

Your heart jumps into your throat. Steve and Dustin are freaking out when suddenly— BANG.

Nancy bangs her palms against your window with a sharp and loud thunk, making everyone shriek.

Before any of you could recover, her and Jonathan rush into the backseat, practically shoving Dustin out of the way. “Where is it? Where is it?”

“Hold on!” You shriek, overwhelmed. You quickly twist the wheel above you, finding it. “Northwest!”

You snatch the talkie from Steve. “Demo is tagged and released! Tracker is in pursuit.” You stop, watching as Steve struggled to turn the car on. “Hurry up!!”

The engine finally roars to life, and with a screech of the tires, Steve slams on the gas, sending the car flying down the road.