steve knows how to shoot guns. his dad, while never there, never around, never caring enough, imposed on him to learn to shoot when he was younger. not because they went hunting, but because they were rich, and rich people supposedly shot at birds. so his dad took him and trial by fire, steve learned to shoot.
he keeps it quiet. he hates his dad. he hates shooting. no one knows about it (except tommy and maybe carol, but they’re not important anymore. they got out). he never mentions it, even when monsters come out from under their beds , their feet, their ground; even when he notices nancy always going for the guns, even when he knows how easier it might be to use against the monsters.
it isn’t until nancy gets it in her head that everyone should learn to shoot, just in case, and hopper agrees, that steve tells people he knows how to shoot.
no one believes him, of fucking course — cause when does anyone believe steve, even after proving himself, moving on from heartbreak, being the better person (yeah, shitty byers, he heard that scoff you let loose when steve mentioned his knowledge).
so when hopper hands him the gun — he turns towards nancy, arches his eyebrow, and looking at her, pulls the trigger.
it’s the best shot, not including nancy, will (the better byers, in his opinion), hopper. it’s better than shitty byers’, that’s for sure, a part of him thinks smugly.
he takes note of how nancy gasps, bites her lip before turning towards hopper with a shrug.
“i don’t like guns,” steve says, making sure the safety is on before handing the gun back, turning around and blinking as everyone stares at him in surprise, though robin has a proud grin on her face and dustin has a small smirk.
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