★_oo_aster_oo_★

Dustin, who was sitting next to you, already started shoving his notebook into his backpack, his brow furrowed. He was probably the only person you liked outside of your group of friends; he was helpful and never complained when you begged him to help you through group projects and solo work. You spent more time with him as your personal tutor than you did turning up to your actual classes. 

You slowly finished the sentence you had copied off him when he finally stood up, pushing his chair in and walking away. 

"Dustin!" you called out, slowly putting your stuff away "Hey, Henderson!"

Dustin stopped mid-stride, blinking as he saw you waving him over from the middle of the row. Your two friends, a few rows behind, were already whispering and giggling to one another, exchanging glances and pointing at Dustin's Star Wars bag.

He adjusted his hat and tilted his head at your smiling face, looking slightly suspicious but mostly surprised. "Oh, hey. What’s up? You need the notes again?" 

"No, I’m good on the notes, but thank you," you laughed, sliding out of your seat to meet him in the middle of your row. "There's a frat party on Friday, and I wondered if you were going?"  

Your two friends burst out into laughter. 

"She did not just ask him that!" 

"Oh my god, I think she did."

Dustin overheard them and let out a dry, theatrical snort. "Me? Frat Party? I thought you knew me better than that."

"I thought you'd give it a go for me... just once." You frowned slightly and tilted your head, reaching out and adjusting the strap of his bag hanging over his shoulder. "I think you're the cutest guy on campus, it's a shame you won't turn up for the night. Please, Dustin. I'd like to see you there."

Cutest guy on campus.

Dustin’s mouth dropped, and a deep, aggressive crimson flooded his cheeks, spreading rapidly to the tips of his ears.

Your friend's laughter only worsened and increased in pitch, the two of them doubling over, hitting one another playfully with one hand and covering their mouths with the other. You turned around and shot them both a glare, nodding your head towards the exit door. 

Dustin’s eyes snapped to them, then back to you and your reaction, carefully studying you, his hopes suddenly falling to pieces at his feet; you weren't serious, you were setting him up, this was all a joke. He wanted to turn around and storm off, cursing you as he did so, but an idea crept up behind him, whispering in his ear. 

Take her up on it and stand her up; you'll have the last laugh.

His posture stiffened, and his expression shuttered, "Fine. I'll turn up, just for you."

Your eyes widened, and a huge smile spread across your face, flashing your teeth. 

"Really?" you chirped, "You'll actually meet me there? Oh, Dustin! Thank you!" You quickly pulled Dustin in for a close hug, resting your chin on his shoulder, "You won't regret it!" 

No, I won't, but you will.

Your dorm room was stuffy with your friends' hairspray and expensive tropical perfume. They were sprawled across the carpet, flicking through magazines and shouting over the Cyndi Lauper track you were playing; you were quiet, staring at your reflection in the mirror, overthinking what you were going to say to Dustin.

"Are you still thinking about that nerd?" April asked, tearing out a mini poster of Tom Cruise. She laughed, nudging Paula's shoulder. "He's a complete weirdo."

"Hey!" You hissed, turning away from the mirror to face them, "Don't call him that... you guys shouldn't have laughed, either," you said, your voice small as you adjusted your earrings. "I think he thought you were making fun of him. I think he thinks I was making fun of him."

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke!" Paula piped up, closing her magazine and standing up. "Do you really think he'll even show up?" 

You checked your hair in the mirror again, "Why wouldn't he? He told me he would. If he wasn't going, he would've told me." 

April stretched across the carpet and hummed, "Oh, sweetheart, a nerd like him would never go for a girl like you."

"A girl like me?" You stared at your friends through the mirror, "What the fuck does that mean?" 

April shrugged and picked up her handbag, "You've lowered your standards, you're choosing to surround yourself with people who think books are more important than looks." 

She walked towards the door, Paula following close behind. 

"You're just as much of a loser as he is," she laughed, opening the door and walking out, Paula laughing with her.

Across campus, Dustin was going through his cramped closet full of Hawaiian shirts for the summer. He stared at the one he would've worn tonight and tossed it into his suitcase, already packing for the summer break. 

"She's going to feel really stupid when she realises I'm one step ahead of her," Dustin muttered, packing away his other shirts, throwing the ones he no longer liked in an open cardboard box he'd later take to the thrift store. 

The sound of your friends’ laughter from the lecture hall echoed in his ears as he sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the digital clock on his nightstand. He had twenty minutes to take a quick shower, style his hair, get dressed, and show his face.

Why don't you just give her a chance?

A chance? She's making a fool out of me! No way! No, I'm not going! 

He took a deep breath and grabbed the sci-fi book next to his digital clock, lying in his bed. He opened a Stephen King book, 'The Gunslinger', which he borrowed from the library, breaking the spine and transporting him away from a night he should've spent with you. 

You turned up to the party five minutes early and waited outside for Dustin to arrive. You assumed he'd call out your name and wave shyly as he walked over, wearing a shirt with a funny joke across the chest or maybe a Hawaiian button-down he briefly mentioned buying a few weeks ago. 

Five minutes turned into twenty, and you gave up waiting outside, hoping that he was inside, standing around waiting for you to appear. Once you walked inside, your eyes scanned the crowds of people - some you recognised across campus, in your lectures, or from a previous party.

The longer you searched for him, the more you realised that Dustin wasn't here.

You didn't want to believe it. Maybe he was running late after his alarm didn't go off from his early evening nap. Maybe he had problems with the temperature again halfway through showering with shampoo dripping in his eye. 

"He’s not coming, loser." April teased, raising her voice over the music, appearing at your side with a drink.

"He said he'd be here," you murmured, feeling the knots forming in your stomach.

"He's stood you up," she shrugged, taking a sip. "That's why you never give nerds a chance, they always think they're above you."

You felt a flash of anger, directed at April and Paula for being right in this rare instance but you were also angry with Dustin; you gave him no reason not to trust you, and you gave him a chance despite what others thought and said of him. You tarnished a reputation you cared very little about, only to realise you would've been better off protecting it. 

Rather than embarrassing yourself any further by staying another minute, you slipped out the side door and started the long, lonely walk back to the dorms, crying to yourself with red, burning cheeks.

Dustin's eyes grew heavier as he read later into the evening; he didn't even notice his eyes closing and his book dropping half-open against his chest. In his dreams, the party was in full swing, and you were standing in the middle of a circle with your friends laughing at you and berating for you for being so cruel to ask someone as nice as Dustin out on a date as a prank. 

But as the dream progressed, he realised he hadn't ruined a prank, but instead broken the heart of the only person who had actually found him interesting outside of his level of intelligence. All he could do was watch you cry, unable to reach out and take your hand, and apologise for his grossly wrong assumptions and for his actions; you gave him a chance and he made you the fool.

The final exam came quicker than Dustin expected and he could feel himself buzzing with nervous energy, most of it he picked up from the other students swarming around him, reading the seating plan.

His dream had proven to be real; all week he had been clapped on the back and high-fived for standing you up, for upsetting you. He didn't feel proud, and he wasn't smiling about it, his guilt kept him awake and interrupted his sacred study sessions. 

He was staring at his shoes when he recognised your own next to his. You ignored him, leaning over to try and find your desk number on the long sheet of paper. Your eyes were slightly red and puffy, and you were closed in with dropped shoulders.

"Hey," Dustin spoke out softly, trying to meet your eyes. 

You refused to look at him, making a mental note of your seat number. 

"Pretty shitty of you to stand me up like that," you grumbled, feeling the hot wave of embarrassment crawl up your neck again. "Why, Dustin? Why did you do that to me?"

You hated that you were doing this here, but you wanted answers, you deserved them.

"I waited," you snapped, "I stood there like an idiot, waiting for you. My friends  told me you wouldn't show up and I didn't believe them. I thought you were nicer than that, Dustin."

Dustin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He didn't know how to respond other than apologising. 

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I thought..." he sighed, "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I cared about you, I thought you knew me better than whatever the hell got into your head."

The doors to the exam hall slowly opened and the students slowly started to pour in, filling their seats. 

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, swaying against those who brushed past him.

You finally looked at him, your gaze cold. "Good luck, Henderson, but I don't think you'll need it."

You turned and walked into the hall without looking back, leaving him to slowly trail behind you, with his head bowed like a sad puppy.

Hawkins never really healed. Not the town, not the people, and definitely not Dustin. You’d think time would’ve dulled the edges but there was always a constant reminder.

Still, he tried. Everyone did. You coaxed laughter out of him on nights he was deepest in his thoughts. You kept him grounded, the voice on the other end of the walkie who never let him spiral too far. But lately, that voice had been changing. He noticed it first when you called him by his full name.

You never did that.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dustin asked, leaning across the hood of his car, eyes narrowing. The last of the sun hit your face, catching the lines of exhaustion you were trying to hide. For a second, his eyes softened. “You look, I don’t know, off.”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Dustin. Seriously. I’m just tired.”

“You’ve said that every day this week.”

“Because it’s true,” you snapped, a little sharper than intended. “Is that some big mystery now? People get tired.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Not like this. You’ve got that look. The one you had before the earthquake, right before everything went to hell.”

You groaned and rubbed at your temples, the air between you tightening. “Please don’t start with that shit right now. Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, come on,” he shot back, eyes flicking toward the twitch in your gloved hand. “You act like I’m paranoid, but we’ve both seen what happens in this town. People start acting weird, and it’s never just insomnia or stress. You know that.”

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” you snapped, voice rising before you could stop it. “You show up the second something feels off and start acting like it’s your job to fix me. Not everything’s some Vecna-level crisis, Dustin!”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, forgive me for not wanting to take chances. Every time someone says they’re fine, they end up bleeding in my arms or disappearing completely.” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and he blinked hard, trying to clear the sudden sting in his eyes. “So, excuse me for noticing when you start twitching like a live wire.

That cut through the air between you. Your arms dropped, words catching in your throat, but pride kept you upright. “You don’t have to turn everything into a rescue mission.”

“Then stop shutting me out!” he snapped back, voice raw now. “You act like I’m the enemy every time I try to help. I’m trying, okay? I just- I can’t keep doing this if you won’t meet me halfway.”

For a moment, you said nothing, your feet suddenly becoming interesting. The silence hummed louder than either of you could stand.

You finally met his gaze, softer but still guarded. “Then stop waiting for me to fall apart.”

His chest heaved once, eyes darting away like he couldn’t look at you without breaking first. “I’m not waiting for you to fall apart,” he murmured. “I’m waiting for you to let me help before you do.”

The words hung between you, heavy and honest. You looked away, flexing your hands until the faint crackle under your skin dulled. He watched the movement, brows knitting, but he didn’t say anything.

──────────────────────────

You’d been dodging Dustin for days.

If he noticed, he didn’t say it out loud at first. You kept your answers short over the walkie, busying yourself with anything that kept you out of his orbit for too long. The more your body changed, the more dangerous it felt to be near him.

He, of course, didn’t get the hint.

His voice broke through the quiet one evening, calling out your name.

You stared at the walkie on your dresser for a long second before finally reaching for it. “I’m here. What’s up?”

There was the faint rustle of him shifting something around. “Wow, you answered on the first call. Miracle.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, trying for light but landing somewhere closer to tired.

He let the comment slide. “So, get this,” he continued, energy bleeding into every word. “The demo crews at the lab? They’re picking up weird spikes again. Not just random interference, it’s patterned stuff. Someone’s lying. Again. Shocker, right?”

You sank down onto the edge of your bed, flexing your fingers until the itch in your palms dulled. “Could be faulty gear.”

“Faulty gear doesn’t sing on a frequency pattern,” he argued. “This is like- like when the gates used to mess with our compasses. It’s weird.”

“Everything here is weird,” you said. “Maybe don’t go looking for extra.”

He went quiet for a beat. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“Saying what?”

“To leave it alone. Let it go. ‘Don’t go looking for extra’.” He mimicked your tone, but there was an edge underneath. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe I’ve learned my lesson,” you replied. “Hawkins has pulled us in, chewed us up and spit us back out. I’m just sick of it, Dust.”

He huffed. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m sick of being blindsided by the things that go on in this town. Maybe I want to look for extra because of that!”

You lay back, staring at the ceiling. A spider crawled along the corner, and for one dizzy moment, your vision focused so sharply you could see the individual hairs on its legs. You blinked hard.

“Dustin, seriously,” you said, forcing your voice steady. “Maybe let this one go. Just this once. Let the place rot. Anyway, I’m sure I would’ve heard something since mother is part of the demo crew.”

“And since when do you tell me to ignore red flags?” he shot back. “You were always the one dragging me into half of them.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, “I got smarter.”

He snorted. “No, you got distant.”

That landed like a punch to your stomach.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the talk button. “I’m not distant.”

“Bullshit!” he said immediately. “You keep cutting conversations short, ditching hangouts, dodging questions. I know you. This is what you do when something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lied. The hum in your chest climbed in protest.

He must have heard something in your silence, because when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I miss you, you know.”

You swallowed, the guilt sitting in your throat. “We talk every night.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” he spoke. “You’re here, but you’re not really here. It’s like talking I’m talking to echo of you or something.”

The words stung because he was right.

You rolled onto your side, curling an arm around your middle like it could comfort you. “Maybe I’m just busy.”

“Yeah?” His voice sharpened. “Busy with what?”

You clenched your jaw. Training yourself not to rip doorknobs off. Not to stick to walls in front of people. Not to flinch when your hearing caught things it shouldn’t. “Stuff,” you said lamely.

He laughed once, humorless. “You’re terrible at lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are,” he pushed, frustration bleeding through. “And you’re doing a really crap job of pretending you’re not. If something’s happening-“

“Drop it, Dustin.”

The line went dead-quiet. You heard him exhale, long and slow.

“You pushing me away doesn’t make whatever this is go away,” he said finally. “It just means I won’t see it coming when it hits.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“We live in Hawkins,” he snapped. “I earned dramatic.”

You winced. “Look, I’m just… tired. That’s all. I don’t want to talk about the lab, or radio spikes, or anything that sounds like a sequel to what we already barely survived.”

“And what if we are in the sequel?” he insisted. “What if this is connected? Don’t you at least want to know?”

Yes. No. Absolutely. But you didn’t say that.

“I don’t care,” you said, even though you did. “I just want it to be over.”

On the other end, you heard him shift again, the walkie crackling softly.

“That’s the thing,” he said, bitterness creeping in. “You don’t get to tap out. None of us do. But sure! Keep pretending nothing’s wrong. That’s worked out great for everyone here.” You could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Dustin-”

“Forget it,” he cut in quickly. “I’ll investigate. Like I always do. If something’s wrong, I’ll figure it out.” Before you could answer, his voice came through one last time, quieter. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Or whenever you decide I’m not an inconvenience. Out.” Your room filled with silence.

You set the walkie down, staring at it like it might come alive in your hands. The hum under your ribs swelled, quickened, like it had been listening too.

Whatever was changing inside you didn’t like being pushed away either.

──────────────────────────

By the weekend, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

The distance, the clipped answers, the way your voice sounded like you were always halfway out the door, crawled under his skin.

He drove to your place at sunrise, front window down, air cold against his face. Hawkins looked softer at this time of day, but it still felt wrong, like the whole town was holding its breath.

He spotted you behind the shed, hunched over something you pretended to be focused on. Your shoulders stiffened the second you heard the engine turn off.

“Hey!” he called, shutting the door to his car. “We need to talk.”

You forced a smile over your shoulder, already exhausted. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

He didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms, eyes dragging over your face, the tired shadows under your eyes, the way your hands curled too tight at your sides. “Why do you look like you haven’t slept since spring?”

You briefly turned away, “I’ve been busy. I keep trying to tell you this.”

“Wrong,” he said flatly. Curse him being able to see right through you. “Try again.”

A muscle in your jaw jumped. “Drop it.” God, you sounded like a broken record.

Normally, he might’ve backed off, cracked a joke, let the tension bleed out. But the last five years had taught him exactly what happened when people in Hawkins said nothing’s wrong and meant the opposite.

“No,” he said, stepping closer, gravel crunching under his sneakers. “You don’t get to shut me out again. Not after everything. Stop trying.”

You clenched your fists, the feeling of what you can only describe as static running up your arms. “Dustin, please-“, you look at him, eyes pleading.

“You’ve been like this since a few days after you last visited your mom’s work. What happened at the lab?” he cut in. “Did something happen to you?”

You had a small hitch in your breath, a fraction of a second where your eyes went wide before you forced them back to neutral, but he saw it. Of course he did.

He stared at you, the fight draining from his face, replaced by fright. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “Something did.”

Your throat went dry.

For a second, the only sound was the wind moving through the trees and the distant hum of a passing car. The world felt too sharp, too bright, your senses picking up every rustle of leaves, every scuff of Dustin's sneakers. You swallowed, hard enough that it hurt, your grip tightening on the shed's edge until the wood groaned under your fingers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried, but your voice came out thinner than you meant it to.

His eyes narrowed. “Stop,” he said quietly. “Stop lying to me.”

You looked away, staring at the patchy grass by your boots, trying to flex your fingers loose from where they'd instinctively adhered to the shed wall. “It was nothing. Just a scare. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You don’t grip things like you’re scared of breaking them over nothing.”

You squeezed your hands into fists, feeling that all-too-familiar itch rise under your palms, the unnatural stickiness that made your stomach turn. “I said drop it.”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the anger and fear tangled together in his expression. “And I said no. You can’t just disappear into yourself and expect me to pretend it’s normal.” His voice softened for half a second. “What. Happened.”

You let out a shaky breath, shoulders tense. “There was an alarm. I got stuck- well not stuck, but you know… disoriented, I guess, in one of the rooms. Something… bit me as I was trying to leave. That’s it. End of story.”

His face went pale. “Bit you?”

“It’s gone,” you rushed on. “The mark, I mean. It was there, then it wasn’t. I’m fine.”

He laughed once, harsh and humorless. “Yeah, because mystery bites from government labs that vanish overnight are totally normal.”

“It’s not like that,” you muttered.

“Then what is it like?” he demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, you got exposed to something freaky, and now you’re dodging me, lying to my face, and acting like it’s no big deal.”

You flinched. “I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

He stared at you, stunned. “Drag me into it? You think I’m not already in it?”

You felt your temper flare, mixing with the fear. “Yeah? Well maybe I was trying to spare you one disaster for once.”

“I don’t need you to spare me,” he shot back. “I need you to trust me.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. The pull in your muscles climbed higher, begging for motion, making your fingertips cling to nothing. Your hands twitched. This is what you get for trying to hold it in.

He noticed.

His gaze locked onto your bare hands. “Show me,” he said.

Your stomach flipped. “No.”

“Why not?” he pushed. “What are you hiding? Because you keep flexing your fingers like you’re in pain.”

“Nothing.”

“Then prove it.”

You shook your head, backing up a step. “Dustin, don’t.”

Something in his expression cracked then. The frustration giving way to hurt. “You’d rather lie to me than just show me?”

You swallowed, guilt burning hot behind your ribs. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, eyes shining now, “I already don’t like what’s going on, so we’re past that.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves overhead. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your palms, the unnatural grip waiting to betray you.

Slowly, like your body was moving without permission, you pressed your bare hand back against the shed wall.

It stuck, your palm adhering to the rough wood like it was magnetized. You pulled, and it held for a heartbeat before releasing it.

Dustin’s breath hitched.

“What the fuck…” He took a step forward, then stopped himself like he wasn’t sure it was safe. His eyes darted from your hand to the wall, then back to your face. “Since when?”

“Since the bite,” you said quietly. “It started small. Reflexes. Jumps I shouldn’t be able to make. Sticking to things. Web shit coming out of my wrist. Strength I can’t control.”

He stared at the faint webbing residue on the wood, mouth half-open. “Like… Spider-Man?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like Spider-Man. I feel like I’m in a comic.”

He ran a hand over his face, pacing in a tight little line. “So let me get this straight,” he said, voice rising. “You’ve been turning into a human arachnid for weeks, and you didn’t think maybe, just maybe, you should mention that to the nerdiest guy you know, who also happens to be your best friend since first grade?”

“What was I supposed to say?” you snapped. “Hey Dustin, my forever best friend, remember all the monsters and gates? Surprise, now I’m climbing walls and shooting strings from my wrist?” You replicate jazz hands with a sarcastic smile on your face.

“Yes!” he shouted. “Exactly that! Anything but this pushing me away shit you’re pulling now.”

You flinched, your hand curling into a fist. A thin strand of silk whipped from your wrist before sticking onto the shed door.

He saw it and stepped back, not far, but enough for you to notice. The space between you stung.

“There it is,” you said, bitterness slipping out before you could stop it. “That look.”

“What look?”

“Like I’m a freak,” you said. “Like if you get too close, I’m gonna web you to a tree.”

He shook his head immediately. “That’s not- I’m not scared of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, voice low. “Because you just stepped back.”

He opened his mouth, closed it. His throat worked around the words before they came out. “I’m scared of what happened to you,” he said finally. “I’m scared because I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen people changed by labs, gates, Upside Down crap, and it’s never ended pretty. Think about what they put El through, Eddie, Max, Will.” He trailed on, counting on his fingers as he riddled off names.

You looked at him, chest tight.

“So what now?” you asked. “You gonna run tests on me? Hide me from the world like Hopper did with El?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe?” he said, voice low and fierce, stepping just close enough that you caught the faint warmth of him against the morning chill. “Yeah. I am.”

You laughed, hollow and brittle, but your pulse jumped anyway at the way his eyes held yours. “Of course you are.”

He glared at you, anger flashing hot in those dark curls and the sharp line of his jaw, but there was something else underneath, raw and unguarded. “Sorry for trying to keep you from turning into Hawkins’ next lab rat, my bad.” His voice cracked on the last word, gaze dropping to your mouth for half a second before snapping back up.

“I didn’t ask you to,” you shot back, but it came out breathless, your body leaning toward him despite yourself, fingers flexing like they wanted to reach out.

He stared at you like you’d slapped him, like the words physically hurt, but he didn’t move away. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, shaking with something deeper than anger. “Yeah,” he said, stepping even closer, close enough you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the familiar mix of his shampoo and mint gum in the light breeze. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? You never ask me. You just decide for both of us.” His eyes searched your face, lingering too long on the cupids bow on your lip, the tension between you thick.

The words hung there, heavy and true, the air charged with everything unsaid. Every late-night walkie confession, every brush of hands that lasted a beat too long.

You didn’t know what to say to that. The pull in your limbs hummed louder, like it agreed with him and hated you for it, your skin prickling with the nearness of him, the way your body wanted to close the gap even as your mind screamed to run.

He dropped his gaze to your hand again, to the faint silk strands clinging to the shed, but his fingers brushed yours as he reached out hesitantly. “This spider stuff inside you? We’ll figure it out. Whether you like it or not.”

You peeled your hand fully away, fingers unsteady, rubbing it on your jeans, in fear you’ll hurt him. That’s the last thing you want to do. But he reaches out again. This time you don’t pull away. “And if there’s nothing to figure out? If this is just who I am now?” Your voice dropped, barely above a whisper, eyes flicking to his mouth now, the space between you humming with more than just your enhanced senses.

His jaw clenched, thumb grazing your knuckles before he caught himself. “Then we deal with that too.” The words were a promise, rough and close, his breath mingling with yours.

“We?” you echoed, heart slamming against your ribs, the pull in your chest having nothing to do with the bite anymore.

He looked up, meeting your eyes dead-on, his free hand hovering near your waist like he was fighting not to pull you in. “Yeah. We.” His voice was velvet over steel, gaze burning with unspoken want, fear, everything Hawkins had never let you say out loud.

──────────────────────────

Dustin's basement smelled like solder fumes, instant noodles, and old comic books stacked haphazardly in the corners. Hawkins had settled into its uneasy quiet, but the air between you two felt heavier than ever, thick with two weeks of tests, glances, and the unspoken weight of your secret.

You sat on what he calls his “work bench”, surrounded by papers and charts mapping your reflexes and web strength. He'd made a routine out of timing your pencil-snatches, and it reminded you of when the party first found El. Part of you hated how exposed it left you. Part of you craved the way his eyes lit up, fear turning to fierce protectiveness every time you didn't break something.

He was hunched over his latest gadget, a clunky wrist device that sparked every now and then. You weren’t completely sure what it was. He did tell you, but you were only half listening. Curls fell into his eyes; he blew them away with a frustrated huff, oblivious to how your gaze traced the tense line of his shoulders, the way his t-shirt clung to his arms.

“You think this’ll actually work?” he asked, voice rough from lack of sleep, finally glancing up. Grease smudged his cheek.

You shrugged. “It’ll probably short-circuit halfway through whatever test you’re gonna make me do next.”

He snorted, grabbing your hand to inspect it, casual like always. But his thumb lingered on your wrist, pressing your racing pulse, eyes darkening as they flicked up to meet yours. “Better than you webbing to the ceiling again.”

Heat flooded your face. “You laughed the whole time.”

“Couldn’t help it.” His grip tightened fractionally, stepping closer until his knees brushed yours. “You’re… nevermind.”

You tilted your head, silently asking him to continue. Your hand meeting the wrist of his hand on yours. Your skin prickled from his closeness, mint-gum breath fanning your face, and then panic spiked cold through your chest. What if you squeezed too hard? You would crush his wrist! Breath hitching, eyes locked on his pulse under your fingers, you imagined bone snapping.

You yanked back, but he held firm, other hand steadying you. “Hey,” he murmured, completely stepping between your knees. It felt like everything stopped. “No running from me today, please.”

“Dustin… I-“ One slip and his wrist breaks. Your hands are trembling, your breathing starting to become uneven. “I could hurt you bad. This thing, it’s not done. I keep finding things out about myself. What if I hurt you? Oh my god.”

His eyes searched yours, inches away, thumb stroking your jaw now, breath ghosting your lips. "I know. And I'm not going to lie, I’m terrified." Honesty cracked his voice. "But I’m more scared of losing you.”

His words lodged in your throat. Your hands finally settled on his shirt, accidentally sticking to the fabric, pulling him closer despite your fear. His free hand slid to your waist, his fingers warm through the fabric as his thumb circles in attempt to ground you, but testing the limits, as if he'd mapped this moment in his head a thousand times.

"What if I can't stop it?" you breathed, noses brushing, the tension coiling unbearable, every nerve screaming for the gap to close even as panic clawed you back. Your fingers dug into his shirt, your spider-strength trembling not to yank him flush.

"Then we learn together." He spoke softly, lips hovering an inch from yours, eyes flicking to your mouth then back up, burning with two weeks of stolen touches and late-night confessions you'd both pretended were just "tests." "You don't get to carry this alone. Not from me. Not when I-“

He stopped, swallowing hard, forehead pressing fully to yours now, breaths syncing, shallow and desperate. Everything Hawkins had buried screamed between you: walkie whispers at 2 a.m., and hands brushing too long after accidental touches. The fragile almost you’d both circled like it might unravel everything.

You leaned in a fraction, your heart slamming, the hum under your skin roaring for him. Then a loud clatter echoed from upstairs, more than likely his cat knocking over something off of the table in the kitchen.

Dustin tensed, breath shuddering out, eyes flicking upward for a split second before snapping back to yours. His hand lingered on your waist just a moment longer, thumb pressing one last silent promise into your skin, to which he then he pulled back, stepping away with a shaky exhale, running a hand through his curls like he needed the distance to breathe.

You jerked back too, hands flying to your lap. The space between you felt cold now, too wide, your heart pounding out of your chest. You could hear his doing the same.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice wrecked, but his eyes stayed locked on yours across the gap, and both of you let out a breath.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the basement humming with every line you’d almost crossed, everything Hawkins always stole before you could hold it. Then Dustin cleared his throat, grabbing the wrist device like a lifeline. “We… we should test this. Before it sparks out completely.”

You nodded, still breathless, forcing a smile on your face. “Yeah. I’m not putting that on my wrist, sorry.”

—

sloppy, has no gag reflex so he takes you all the way into the back of his throat.

soft moans and mixes of glug-glug-glug is truly the only thing you can hear. his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs like if he let go you'd disappear with no reason.

his moans echo through your ears, and his lips wrapped tightly around the black dildo fastened to your hips. his eyes are lidded, drool dripping down his chin before he suddenly pulls all the way back up to the tip, giving it a teasing lick before engulfing the entire thing in one go, a loud moan leaving his throat.

he sits there for a few seconds, indulging in the feel of your cock hitting right at the back of his throat, before pulling himself back up and repeating the process.

ENJIN, jabber, august, bro

nervous, isn't exactly sure what to do, yet still tries his best.

his tongue runs under the dildo, hesitant and slow, his breath coming out in shakey heaves before his lips reach the tip, slowly taking it down halfway before gagging violently. his eyes begin to gloss, hand coming up to wrap around what he couldn't take.

“mh... ghf...” his gaze looks up to you, brows knitted together as his hips buck up into nothing, head slowly bobbing up and down as his hand moved in time with his lips, his breathing growing heavier and heavier by the second.

“g—gonna... come...” it's too sudden, pulling off of your strap with a pop! before his hips twitch, looking down in shame as a dark patch began to form between his legs, panting heavily as he leans into your touch, and humming with each coo of praise from your lips.

FOLLO, fu, bundus (ik he gets no pussy), zanka

knows exactly what he wants, no hesitation and no resistance from his side.

“guh-guh-guh.” heavy gags and choking fills the room as his hands grip your thighs tightly, his head held still with your hands as you thrust down into his throat. he looks up at you with a love-filled gaze, a slight smile on his lips before he shifts his head, taking you deeper down his throat.

you can practically see the buldge of your cock in his throat, but he ignores it, noticing the way you halt your movements, a look of concern on your features. he slowly pulls away, admiring the spit coated dildo before smiling, almost proud of his own doing.

“if you're concerned about hurting me, then trust me, I'm right where I wish to be.” he kisses the tip, going back to deep throating the entire strap in one go. you blink, almost shocked before roughly grabbing the back of his head, drinking in the noises of his gags and moans, god if only you could listen to this all night on loop.

Dustin and Y/N, their names said in a pair, there was no Dustin without Y/N, it almost felt weird to say their names separately. They were glue, essentially. It was almost impossible to see one without the other. She had met him before he met Mike, Will and Lucas. She danced with him at the Snow Ball dance. Y/N was always there, she kissed his knees and elbows when they scraped from falling off his bike, helped him build prototypes out of popsicle sticks.

In return, Dustin was there for her. He learned how to braid hair, he played with her toys, despite the teasing he got from the party for being girly. He simply didn't care, he wanted to play with her.

In middle school, they did all the science clubs together and even helped Mr. Clarke at the science fair and won 1st. They were a pair, you needed one, you got the other too! Even when Y/N told him she didn't really understand or like science, he didn't freak out or get mad she lied, he felt bad. So they started expanding their interests.

When she first played D&D, she didn't get it that well, but she loved the dramatics. How Mike acted out everything like his life depended on it. That's when she decided to join the Drama club, and she fell in love. Dustin was so proud of her when she got the lead for their final middle school play. He helped her run though lines and clapped the loudest when they bowed.

When they finally told her about the Upside Down and El, she didn't believe them, said it was probably another campaign and they were trying to trick her. There's no such thing as monsters. Until one of her and Dustin's sleepovers, he told her with full honesty and she nearly passed out. She met El, and thought she was the coolest person ever, only second to Dustin. Then Max came along after El disappeared, she was happy to have another girl around.

Then came high school, Dustin found his little band of freaks and outcasts and she found hers. They were still close and Y/N went to every Hellfire Club meeting, and he went to her Drama club rehearsals, and stayed when she started learning to sew, to start making costumes. She liked his friends, they helped him fully embrace how weird he was, which wasn't a bad thing to her, but they didn't fit into the “norm”. But they didn't care this year, the stupid basketball players could shove it. Dustin and Y/N slowly turned into Dustin, Y/N and Eddie. Which, Y/N didn't mind, but she missed her and Dustin's hangouts. It also didn't help that Eddie immediately clocked their feelings. The ones they've been avoiding since 7th grade.

Dustin had told him multiple times that they were just friends. Eddie didn't believe that for a second. Well, to be fair, they cuddled and Y/N kissed his forehead like it was a day job. Hell, the whole party saw it. No one believed the “just friends” thing. Not even Robin, who was the slowest in the group, she wasn't dumb, it just took her a few extra seconds to figure things out!

Everything was great. Until it wasn't. Vecna had become a problem, taking people who had some sort of teenage issue and killing them. They all became aware, especially when he targeted Max. The fight was intense, they almost lost Steve and Max. Everything was fine. Then they lost Eddie, someone everyone but the party thought was a murderer and Dustin was broken into millions of pieces.

It was 18 months after that, and Y/N was still trying to pick up those pieces and put them back together with the glue they used to be. But they weren't the right pieces for the person he was now. They didn't fit like they used to. He was cold. Distant and mean. It sounded wrong in her head, Dustin wasn't mean. At least, he used to not be.

It was another day at school, but they weren't freshmen anymore. She stood at her locker, watching Dustin get picked on by Andy and his friends. She started to walk over, when she heard a loud rip, she saw his shirt rip and she rushed over. “What the fuck, Andy?!” She yelled, pushing him back. Andy laughed and grinned at you. “Look, the freak needs a girl to defend him. What a pussy.”

Dustin glared at Andy as he walked away and used his arm to nudge her aside. “Why would you do that? Now they think I’m a sissy.” He grumbled. Y/N looked at him shocked. “Are you serious? That's what you care about?” She said, starting to get mad as Will, Lucas and Mike came over. “She was just trying to help, man.” Lucas said, shrugging. Mike spoke up, “Yeah, you don't gotta be an ass.” Will nodded as he rubbed her shoulder.

“Yeah, well she made me look weak.” He sneered. Y/N rolled her eyes. “When have you ever cared what Andy and his dumbass friends think?” She crossed her arms. “I don't. But they already see me as a freak, they don't need more fuel to add to the fire that is making fun of me.” Dustin said, glancing at Y/N before she reached in her bag and threw one of his shirts at him. “Change and give me that.” She demanded, he reluctantly walked to the boys bathroom and changed and tossed the ripped Hellfire shirt at her.

She rolled her eyes and was about to say something snarky but he walked away. She groaned and looked at the other boys. “I’m starting to really dislike this version of him.” Mike scoffed, “Yeah, we are too.” Lucas nodded along, clearly agreeing. Will sighed, “He's angry, at Vecna, the Upside down. At everything. I don't think it's right that he's taking it out on us, but he's in that stage of grief.” Y/N’s shoulders dropped, “I know that..doesn't mean I like it.” She says quietly.

“Okay, as much as the topic of Dustin is interesting, we have to go. Nancy needs us at the WSQK.” Mike says, grabbing his bag. “When?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, not remembering any code or walkie calls. “I kinda live with her, dumbass.” Mike rolled his eyes, Will nodded. “She did say that..” He said quietly. “Don't ever agree with Mike, Will. For your own good.” Y/N said solemnly, Will smiled and Lucas grinned. Mike scoffed, “Whatever. Steve told Dustin earlier so he should meet us there.”

They got to the WSQK and Y/N looked for Dustin. Almost instinctively. She frowned and looked at Steve. “Where's Dustin?” Steve groaned, “He's not here yet? That kid’s been pissing me off lately. He's probably just late. Again.” He muttered. Y/N’s frown deepened but she brushed it off as they went over the plan.

Unfortunately, Dustin never showed. So, plans changed, Y/N went with Steve in the van since she helped Will and Dustin put it together. And since everything was going amazing today, the van broke down. It seemed like their luck was changing when a stranger pulled over on her way to a dance or date, one or the other, Y/N thinks.

“She might've placed me.” Steve said as he got in the van. Y/N raised her brow from the back, “Placed you?” Steve sighed like he was about to tell a painful story. “Dated her sister off and on in high school.” She nodded. “Before or after Nancy.” Steve looked at her like “Excuse me?” before answering quietly. “Before.” She smiled and snorted. “Whore.” She mutters under her breath. Steve looks gobsmacked before speaking. “I beg your pardon? I am not a whore. I might've slept with like half the girls in my year. And some in the year below me. Oh shit. I am a whore. Why did I never realize that? Do you think thats wh-” Y/N cut him off.

“Yep. It's why you haven't gotten a date since.” Y/N finished his sentence. “Not what I was gonna say.” Steve all but pouted. “Sure. Anyways, have you heard from Dustin? Like in the last few hours?” She asked, clearly worried. “No, but the kid’s probably fine. He's most likely doing nothing. Little prick. What are you doing back there?” Steve looked in the rearview mirror, realizing her hands were moving. “Something.” She mumbled. “Yeah? What? Is that-” There was a pounding on the window, Steve smiles sheepishly and gets out, helping the girl unlatch the jumper cables before climbing back in and starting the van, he looked out his window and he scoffed.

“You have got to be shitting me.” He gets out, and Y/N gets curious and climbs out too, freezing when she sees Dustin. Bloody and bruised. “What the hell?!” She screamed, nearly tripping over her feet as she ran over. “I crashed into a tree. I’m fine.” Dustin said, not even trying to sound believable. “Sure ya did. And the sky is purple.” Steve said, obviously being sarcastic. “It was Andy and his friends, wasn't it?” Y/N said softly, despite her earlier frustrations with the boy. “No. I said I fell off my bike.”

“You said you hit a tree.” Y/N frowned. Dustin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m fine.” He tried to sound convincing. “Clearly not!” Steve jumped in. “Just let me help-” Y/N began but Dustin cut her off. “No. Your help got me into this mess.” He said, walking towards the van. “Are you blaming me?” Y/N was pissed now, furious he even hinted at that. “Well, you're the one who made me seem weak in front of them.” He said it like it was a fact. “Why have you been such a dick lately?!” She yelled. “I lost my best friend! And maybe if you hadn't suggested that he come with us, he would still be here!” Dustin snapped. Y/N froze. “You don't mean that..” Y/N said quietly. “Yeah. I do.” Dustin replied. Y/N reached in the van and threw something at him.

“Fuck you, Henderson. Don't talk to me.” Y/N storms off. Dustin shakes his head and looks at what she threw at him. It was his Hellfire shirt. Stitched back up, but now with a little heart sewn in. He looks at it, his heart dropped to his feet. “Oh shit.” He says quietly. Steve glares at. “Get in the van. Now.” Dustin looks up, “But-” Steve holds up a hand, “No. Let her cool off.” Dustin hesitates, but then climbs in the van.

It’s been 2 weeks.

2 weeks since any of them have seen Y/N. Dustin felt even shittier now. The party was on his ass about apologizing, but as bad as he feels, his stubbornness was stronger. He hasn't been away from her for longer than a day, let alone weeks since he went to camp.

“Just apologize, dude. We need all the help we can get.” Steve tried to reason as he drove them to the WSQK, Dustin shakes his head. “You are such an ass. You blamed her for Eddie's death, something that was not at all her fault. And like, she's been there for you since what? Kindergarten?” Steve started, looking at Dustin before looking back at the road. “She was there when you were alone at that dance, she was there for you when nobody else believed you about the Russians and all that stupid Upside Down shit. Like, even Robin knows you two like each other.” He said, matter of factly. Dustin scoffs out a laugh. “She's pretty and smart but she doesn't like me.” He rambles.

“You didn't deny it. You like her.” Steve grins as he stops the car. Dustin ignores him and goes to get out and freezes when he realizes they weren't at the WSQK. They were outside of Y/N’s house. “You're kidding.” Dustin glares at Steve, who just shakes his head. “No. Go apologize.” Dustin groans but gets out and slowly walks to the front door. He stands there for a few minutes before knocking softly.

Y/N opens the door and nearly slams it in his face. She frowns, “What do you want?” Dustin smiles sheepishly. “To say sorry..” He says quietly. It's silent for a beat. “Go on.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was a dick and I shouldn't have said what I did. It was not your fault.” Dustin said, looking at her. “You hurt my feelings, Dustin.” She says, her shoulders hunched a little. “I know, and I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Dustin looks in her eyes. “God, I can't anymore. I like you. No, scratch that. I love you. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you don't let me get away with anything. You hold me accountable. I love how you act, and how you don't tease me about the things I like. I love you.” He takes a breath and keeps his eyes on her as hers widen.

“I love you too.” Y/N whispers, and Dustin almost faints. “Please don't lie.” Dustin whispers back. Y/N shakes her head. “I’m not. I’ve loved you since middle school. The way you showed me what you liked and you didn't get mad when I didn't like the same things.” Y/N says, her cheeks flushed. “Still doesn't make it hurt less.” Dustin steps inside. “I know. I’m really sorry. You don't have to forgive me now, take your time.” He gently touches her face. Y/N smiles slightly and pulls him in until he lips touch hers. Dustin melts immediately and kisses her.

It gets heated quickly, pent up feelings releasing finally, fueling the fire between them. Y/N pulls him upstairs to her room, laying on her bed as Dustin throws his backpack off. He climbs on top of her and kisses her, his hands slipping under her shirt. The moment for them, and only them.

His walkie crackles from his bag with Mike's voice. “Hey, did you and Y/N make up yet? We're planning the next crawl.” Dustin groans and gets up, unzipping his bag then grabbing his walkie. “We're busy.” He says into it before pushing the atena down.

Y/N giggles and pulls him back to her. “You're not forgiven yet, buddy.” Dustin kisses her jaw. “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. And don't call me buddy.”