#hopper!reader

“Isn't too hard to see…we're in Heaven…”

With Eddie all over you, you’re indeed in heaven. 

You giggle against his mouth when he bumps his nose into yours for like the hundredth time. You’re not sure how long it’s been since he climbed up your window, only that your lips are swollen already. He kisses you again anyway. Then your cheek, then the other cheek, then your jaw and then lower. 

His lips trail down your neck in wet, lazy kisses. His hand slides beneath your shirt to pinch your waist playfully, cold rings making you gasp. 

“Eddie...” you whisper, melting under his weight. 

He smiles without looking up. God, you can feel his teeth dragging slowly over your skin, before he finds the perfect spot and starts sucking like the little devil he is. 

Your fingers run through his curls, torn between scolding him and letting him mark you all over. Thankfully, your survival instinct kicks in, and you tug his head slightly back. 

“No hickeys this time, Munson,” you warn, but your breath gives away how much you were enjoying it. 

How much you actually want it. Damn it. 

Eddie notices, of course he does, his lips release your sensitive skin only to look at you, grinning. “Mmm…I don’t know. Can’t promise anything, sweetheart.”

“Eddie–“

“Shhh, pretty girl,” he hushes you, diving into your collarbone again. “I’m trying to savor this moment before your dad throws me in federal prison…”

You giggle against his hair. “He will if he sees your teeth on my neck, Eds.” 

“It’s that so?” He teases, more focused on choosing his next spot to attack. 

The way his lips wrap around your skin feels so good you forget how to keep protesting. Your fingers twist in his curls, your back arching up into him and the way his mouth claims you. 

You just pray your father stays away wherever he is for longer. The only reason why you’re doing it here instead of Eddie’s trailer like usual, is because Wayne had the night off today and wanted to have one of his buddies over for beers. 

To be fair you didn’t plan to hide your relationship from Hopper at the start. But he’s always been a little psycho when it comes to “boys” around you. Now, with an even younger daughter it’s worse. He hates Mike for even breathing close to El. Not to mention he also has access to one too many guns, and with the way the town already sees Eddie, it’s just…better this way. Better to stifle your uneven breathing as your boyfriend takes you to heaven right in your bed. 

“Just–just keep it where my dad can’t see them, baby,” you pant, breathing becoming a hard task at this point. 

He lifts his head with a dramatic gasp, that shit eating grin forming on his face again with a mischievous glint in those huge brown eyes. 

“I knew you were a freak just like me,” he says proudly, shaking his head. “Freaks in love, what a beautiful thing,” he sighs dreamily, making you snort so hard you have to cover your mouth. 

“Oh my God Eddie, shut up!” You slap his shoulder weakly, making him snort back, drowning the sound in the crook of your neck. 

“Mmm yeah, I can put my mouth to better use…” 

The next sound that comes out of your mouth is involuntary. But it’s not your fault when Eddie knows exactly what to do to drag sweet moans out of you.

“You’re gonna…you’re gonna get me killed–fuck,” you moan again when Eddie sucks harder to leave his desired mark on your shoulder. His head shoots up with a devious smile at your barely contained sounds. 

“Would you keep it quiet, sweetheart? you don’t wanna alert the little witch…” he chuckles, shifting his weight above you a little too fast, the movement making the headboard tap against the wall.

You both freeze. 

“Fuck,” Eddie curses with wide eyes. “You think she heard that?” 

You lift on your elbows and tilt your head to listen for any shuffle outside the door, but all you can hear is the soft music still playing in your room. You shrug when you look back at Eddie.

“I don't think so.”

Eddie exhales, before amusement takes over again. “Do you think she even knows what it means?” 

“She hangs out with Max all the time, Eddie. Yes, I think she’d know what it means,” you deadpan. 

The statement makes him blink at you in surprise a few times, but it’s not long before both of you burst into “quiet” laughter. You place a hand over Eddie’s mouth, his head shaking against your palm from how he tries to hold it in. 

“Stop–stop it!” you whisper-shout, barely keeping your own laughter in. “She’s gonna know you’re here!”

“Too late.”

The little deadpan voice coming from the other side of the door makes you both go still. Your heads whip toward the locked door.

“I know he’s in there. And I know what you’re doing,” she continues. 

You close your eyes with a grimace, sighing in frustration. “El, you do not know what we’re doing.”

The girl doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes I do. Max told me when you sound like that it’s because you’re having s–”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” You scramble, attempting to sit up and almost bumping Eddie in the process, since he’s too busy caught between amusement and fear to even move. 

“I’m telling him,” she says. 

“NO!” You and Eddie yell in unison, both scrambling to get off of each other, knocking over your little bedside lamp in the process. 

“Shit!” 

“She’s bluffing, right? Please tell me she’s bluffing? We weren’t even doing anything…yet” Eddie whispers, pacing next to your bed. 

“I don’t know!” you hiss, fixing your shirt and your hair before racing to the door. “She’s weird now, she has an attitude and all. For all I know she could do exactly as she says.”

“Great. Perfect. This is exactly how I thought my night was gonna end. Not inside you–oh no. Blackmailed by a fourteen year old and then shot by your father. Tell Wayne I love him–”

“Shut up!!” You snort, gesturing with a finger to your lips. “El, please,” you beg, cracking the door open just enough to see her unimpressed little face. “Please don’t tell dad.”

She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes. She moves her head past you to see Eddie standing by your window, waving awkwardly at her. She remembers seeing you and him sucking each other's faces off a few days ago before you shut the door on her face. 

“El?” You ask, moving your body to block her gaze on Eddie. 

She seems to think about it for a moment, but you weren’t born yesterday, you know the look on her face and you know exactly why she’s there. 

“Okay. But cover for me and Mike next time.” 

There it is. You stare at her in silence, then you whip around to Eddie, curls wild, pupils blown and holding in his laughter. “Is this kid fucking serious?”

Eddie just raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Like sister like…half-sister?” He chuckles. “Being a freak runs in the family, I see.” 

You flip him off before you turn back to her. 

“Fine. Deal. I better not get grounded or I swear you’re going down with me,” you say. El just nods and turns to walk away. “And put some music on! You don’t wanna hear….anything.”

“The happy screaming?” She asks, right before scrambling to her room with a giggle when your eyes go wide. 

Her door shuts, and seconds later Madonna starts blasting from her stereo at full volume. 

“Jesus Christ, this girl,” you mutter, shaking your head before shutting your door. 

Click. 

You turn back to Eddie–and you both lose it. He throws himself dramatically on the bed, laughing into your pillows. You’re laughing too as you crawl on top of him, placing your hands on his chest with a grin. 

“Now, where were we?” You tease, leaning down to kiss him again. 

But he flips you over, making you giggle against his neck, and the music is just loud enough to cover the squeaking of the bed, the shushing and the soft little gasps when clothes begin to fall off. 

You don’t hear the car pulling in the driveway. You don’t hear the front door open or the heavy footsteps following. 

All you hear is Eddie, breathing hard on your ear, muttering curses and things like “You’re so fucking tight, baby–shit,” with every sweet drag of his cock across your slick walls. Your fingers dip into his bare shoulders, and your head tilts back against the pillow with barely contained moans as he hits every spot he has to hit. 

“Ed…Eddie…” you choke out, completely drunk on the way his balls slap your ass every time he bottoms out. “R-right there…please”

“Right there sweetheart?” He coos with a chuckle, dragging out only to slam back again in a hard thrust, hitting that spot again. “How does that feel, huh?” 

You gasp, back arching, eyes rolling back. “S–so big…so good Eds…shit…”

“Shh, shh, you’re okay angel–fuck you’re perfect,” he whispers, leaning back to hook his arm under your legs to lift your ass, then placing a pillow right under your pelvis. He snaps his hips harder, deeper, trying to make you cum because he knows damn well he won’t last much longer with the way your pussy clenches around him. 

The change of angle makes a loud moan escape your lips, making Eddie bring his ringed hand over your mouth with a grin. 

God, how he loves the way you come undone under him. 

If it was up to him, he’d let you be as loud as you want. Lord knows when he fucks you hard in his trailer the whole park knows when you come. On the other hand, nothing compares to drilling you into your own mattress. Seeing the way you shake trying to muffle your moans while he makes love to you in secret.  

The sheer thrill of it. 

And as if it wasn’t enough, with one hand still covering your mouth, Eddie brings the other to play with your swollen clit. The overwhelming feeling is enough to make you cry out under his palm, feeling that pressure on your belly building quicker and quicker. He’s too focused on the way your juices start to drip down your cute bedsheets under him, that he doesn’t hear anything happening outside that room either. 

Jim Hopper enters his household with slumped shoulders and dragged footsteps after a tiring day. But he doesn’t have much time to feel miserable about how shitty work was, when he realizes none of his girls are on sight. 

Which always means trouble. 

His eyes land on El’s door first. Loud music blasts behind it, the same way it does when Mike is sucking her face off and doing god knows what with his hands. He stomps over there with no hesitation, slamming the door open. 

“How many times have I told you–”

He stops dead in his tracks when he finds El alone, laying on the floor as she flips through a comic, music still at full volume coming from her stereo. 

“I–hey kid,” he says softer, clearing his throat when he realizes there’s no male threat in that room. “Why’s the music so loud?” 

“New mixtape. She said I could play it as loud as I wanted.” 

“She?”

“Sister,” she smiles. 

That weird little smile makes him narrow his eyes, “What did your sister do?” He asks, because he wasn’t born yesterday either. He already raised a teenager. 

“N-nothing!” She says, maybe a little too quickly. 

That’s when he hears a bump on the wall coming from your room.

“I swear to god–” he rolls his eyes with an exhausted sigh, already walking to your door, ignoring the way El trails behind him with wide eyes. 

“Wait–” she scrambles trying to stall him, but he’s already pressing his ear to your door. 

And Jesus Christ, he did not need to hear any of that. His daughter’s panting and some dude’s groans muffled by music. His hand flies to the doorknob, rattling it violently. 

“Young lady, you better open this goddamn door right now!!”

The booming voice makes you both stop. 

“Shit!” you yelp, somehow pushing Eddie off, grabbing whatever you can find from the floor to get dressed. 

“Who’s in there???” Hopper keeps rattling the doorknob with one hand, the other banging the door loudly. “El, open this door!”

“No!” 

Eddie’s panicking. He’s hopping around, shoving his dick–condom and all–into his jeans, looking around for his shirt and trying to put on his shoes at the same time. 

“He’s gonna kill me,” he hisses. All that confidence he had fucking you into next week now reduced to sheer human fear. “He’s actually gonna murder me. I’m gonna die too young.”

You ignore his dramatic monologue. 

“Did you park far?” you whisper, tripping over your bra as you try to hide it under the bed. “Eddie, he can't see your van–”

“Yes yes I did–but I’m not worried about that! I’m worried about getting shot in the dick!”

BANG BANG BANG.

“Open right now or I swear to god I’ll break it down!!” 

“Coming!” You yell back. 

“Not yet,” Eddie snorts, he fucking snorts like he’s not about to be executed by the town’s sheriff. 

You turn to him, mouth open in disbelief. He realizes his mistake when you stomp toward him and dig a finger into his bare chest. 

“Do you appreciate your life?” You ask, he just nods frantically. “Then you need to get out of here, dumbass, now!!” 

You shove him toward the windowsill, he clumsily puts one leg over the frame, when you spot his shirt on the floor. You quickly pick it up and hand it to him. 

“What if I want you to keep it? As a token of our love.”

If your dad doesn’t kill him right now you’re the one who’s going to do it. 

“Eddie–GET OUT NOW!”

“Okay, okay, fleeing the scene–”

But just as he’s about to swing his other leg over the frame, the door slams over with a harsh thud as Hopper almost breaks it off its hinges. 

“MUNSON?” 

He freezes. You freeze. Eddie freezes.

Hopper’s eyes go from Eddie mid escape, still clutching his shirt over his tattooed chest, to the pillow you’ve put between the bed frame and the wall, to your messy hair and the very fresh hickey stamped on your shoulder. 

“…Hi, dad,” you say breathlessly, smiling awkwardly. 

“Heyyyy, Mr. Hopper–I mean Sir uh…Iwasjustleaving!” 

Eddie tries to jump outside the window, but it only takes your fuming dad a few strides to storm across the room and grab him by the ear before he can. 

“Ow ow ow–” Eddie yelps loudly, feet tripping over each other as he gets dragged out of your room.

“Dad!!” you shout, trailing after them. “Stop it! you’re gonna rip it off–“

“That’s not the only thing I’m ripping off!” He snaps, turning to El. “And you, turn off that music right now!” 

El, for once does as she’s told, the only sounds left in the house are everyone’s heavy breathing and Eddie’s little whines. She watches from her doorway with wide eyes, horrified as her dad hauls your shirtless boyfriend into the living room and finally releases him with a shove. Eddie stumbles back, holding his ear with one hand, the other still clutching his shirt for dear life. 

Hopper turns to you, “Eddie Munson? Seriously?” 

You try to look apologetic. It comes out more like a nervous laugh because you’re embarrassed as hell and don’t know how else to react. 

“Oh, so you think this is funny?”

“Dad, I–”

“No, don't ‘Dad’ me!” he starts pacing, dragging his hand down his face because it physically pains him to be alive in this moment. “I decided to take in two girls. Two. I’ve set clear rules in this house. And now one’s blowing out her eardrums to cover for the other while she sneaks in boys to hookup with while I’m gone.”

Heat travels to your face. But it’s not from embarrassment anymore. It’s anger. Anger that simmers quietly. 

“I just wanna say,” Eddie chimes in nervously, holding his hands up as if he’s surrendering to an arrest, “this wasn’t just a hookup thing, Sir. I care about her. A lot actually, I only mean well.”

Hopper laughs bitterly, crossing his arms and nodding condescendingly like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard. 

“Well? You only mean well, right–and what exactly is ‘well’ about sneaking into my house, locking yourself in my daughter’s room, and doing that??” he closes the distance between you, gesturing at the hickey. 

“Okay, fair, but–” 

“Were you even using protection?”

“Dad!!” you groan, moving in front of Eddie. “We’re being safe! And I’m not sneaking in boys plural. It’s just Eddie. My–my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Boyfriend? Well you’re grounded.” 

You gasp. “What? That’s so unfair!” 

“You’re grounded until you introduce him like a proper lady, not while he’s still trying to shimmy into his jeans behind a locked door!”

You glare at him with your arms crossed. Your hair’s still a mess, the hickey is still very much hickeying, and he looks like he’s not backing down no matter if you start stomping your feet on the ground like a child. 

He brushes past you and turns his attention to Eddie, grabbing him by the collar until his untied sneakers lift off the ground. 

“S–Sir?” Eddie yelps. 

“You mark her again like that and you’re dead. Understood?”

Eddie nods frantically. “Understood, S–sir–absolutely!! Message received!! I love life. Biiig fan of living, actually. I’ll, uh–show myself out?” Eddie blurts out, hands flailing around him in an attempt to stabilize himself in the vulnerable position, but Hopper doesn’t put him back down. 

“I’m not done with you yet, Munson.”

You groan again, covering your face with your hands.  “God–I hate you.”

Before he can say you’re grounded for life, something falls in the kitchen. The noise makes him spin around, giving you just enough time to snap your head up and lock eyes with Eddie. 

You mouth RUN.

And oh boy, he bolts. He slips himself from your dad’s embrace and sprints like hell out the front door, wild curls bouncing in the wind, laughing like a madman who just escaped the guillotine. 

“TILL OUR PATHS CROSS AGAIN, MY LOVE!!” he yells at the top of his lungs, skipping the steps of the front porch. 

Hopper whirls around. “Son of a bitch–COME BACK HERE!”

He storms after him, but the couch has already been moved a few inches so he trips, nearly eating the floor. It’s not a surprise when you both turn around and see the blood coming out of El’s nose. 

“Damn it, El!”

You smile, running to the open door, just in time to see Eddie leap over the perimeter set for Eleven’s safety, almost losing a shoe, and keep running for his life. 

You can’t help it. You stifle a laugh with the palm of your hand. 

Behind you, Hopper’s face is red, looking at both of you in disbelief. He walks over to you, slamming the front door shut. 

“You’re both grounded forever.” Before you can whine, he’s already spitting more words. “When I said you two needed to be more like sisters, I didn’t mean this!”

“Yeah, and what exactly did you mean?” You spit back. 

“I don’t know, bonding, talking–painting your nails and going to the mall! Not conspiring to deceive me while your boyfriend sucks your neck like a lunatic!”

“Oh my god, Dad! Would you stop bringing it up?” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “El go to your room,” you say. 

She doesn’t need to hear more of this. 

He huffs, muttering to himself as Eleven locks herself in her room. “Now this–this is what I get. This is what I get for trying to raise women. Lying little degenerates, the both of you. Should’ve left you where I found you…”

This time you huff, walking past him to go back to your room. “Maybe then we could have boyfriends in peace,” you sneer, before slamming your door shut. 

He curses, and bangs on your door one more time, “You’re still grounded! And you better take a shower, I can smell the weed from here!”

You sigh. Sat on the edge of your bed wrapped in only a towel over damp skin, still thinking about the way you were wrapped in Eddie just an hour ago. 

Your eyes land on his forgotten jacket, crumpled on the corner of your room. You smile, walking over to it to pick it up and bring it close to you to take in the scent. 

Leather, the cologne you gave him for his birthday and…weed? Who knows. It smells like him. Your safe place. You bury your face in it like a total sap, but the click of your door’s lock coming off startles you. 

“Jesus, El!” you yelp, spinning around with the jacket clutched to your chest. “Just because you can open doors with your mind doesn’t mean you should!”

She stands there, with a cute little expression that makes you forget about being mad at her.

You sigh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap, come here.” 

You sit down on the edge of your bed again and pat the spot beside you. She sits next to you quietly, tucking her legs under herself. 

“Listen uh–I’m sorry you had to hear all that. Me and Dad. And I’m sorry you got grounded for helping me…I’m sure he’ll forget about it in a few days.”

She shrugs, knowing that won't exactly stop her from seeing Mike either way. 

“He…doesn’t like boys.”

You both snort at the same time.

“That’s true. I think he’s convinced we should just join a convent,” you chuckle. 

El tilts her head in confusion, ready to ask what a convent is but something else catches her attention. Her eyes land on the mark on your shoulder.

“Did Eddie do that to hurt you?”

The question knocks the air out of your chest. 

“What? No! No, no, no–God, no,” you blurt out, fiddling nervously with the jacket on your lap. “That was…um, that was consensual.”

“Consensual?”

“Yeah…it means both people want something to happen. Like, really want it. It has to come from both sides. Always.”

She processes the information quietly, and you know a million more questions are rattling inside her head. You take a deep breath. She eventually needs to learn about this anyway. 

“Look, if you ever don’t like something, if something makes you feel uncomfortable, or weird, or confused, you say no. And when you say no, that’s it. It stops. Doesn’t matter who it is. Doesn’t matter what they want. I need you to understand that.” 

She nods, still a bit hesitant. 

“I’m sure Max has already told you way more than I ever could.” You laugh, shaking your head. That gets the ghost of a smile out of her as she keeps listening. “But just…remember this, okay? Whatever you do, whenever you do it, make sure it comes from love. From feeling safe. From being comfortable with each other. Not because someone told you to, or because you’re scared, or confused. Only when it feels right.”

She nods, still taking it all in. Then, in barely a whisper, she asks, “Does…Eddie make you feel safe?”

You smile. It’s inevitable. Just the mention of his name makes your heart flutter with that overwhelming feeling of knowing you’ve made him home. 

“Yeah, yeah he does,” you breathe. 

She smiles back, leaning her head on your arm. 

You wait until it’s late, with El back in her room and Hopper too busy snoring loudly behind the curtain of his room, before you tiptoe to the living room. You glance around to confirm you’re alone, before reaching for the phone on the wall and dialing Eddie’s trailer number like you’ve done millions of times before. 

You stretch the cord until you’re in your room again, shutting the door slowly before sinking down against it with the receiver pressed to your ear. It rings a few times, when you finally hear his voice on the other side of the line. 

“Munson Residence, who am I speaking with?” He says in an over exaggerated posh tone, knowing damn well you’re the only one who calls at this hour. 

“Hi, Ed,” you chuckle. 

He gasps dramatically. “Sweetheart? Love of my life? You survived??” 

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Barely. I got a lot of shit for…today,” you sigh, twisting the cord between your fingers. 

“M’sorry baby, didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“It’s alright,” you say quickly. “Apparently I’m grounded for life. He’s just–he got really pissed. Like ‘boarding up my windows’ pissed. I’m afraid he might actually do it this time...”

Eddie whistles low. “Wow. Love that for us.” 

“Yup. And…I also had to give El the talk–or something like the talk.”

“No–” He gasps, “you gave the talk? To El?? Oh my god. Did she ask about the hickey?” 

“She thought you were hurting me,” you snort, shaking your head even if he can’t see you. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs into the phone, loudly. “Did you tell her it’s because I’m hopelessly in love with you?” 

“Eddie…” you have to cover your mouth to stifle your own laughter, as your cheeks go hot from his words. “That’s not exactly what I told her.” 

“So what was it? The bees and the birds? Safe sex? Consent? Oooh you gotta tell her about that, sweetheart. I know she’s young and all but there’s a lot of jerks out there and she should–”

“I told her you make me feel safe, Eds,” you cut him off, the line going quiet as he processes the words. A small, nervous laugh escapes your lips before you continue. “I told her consent is all about really wanting something to happen. And it should come from love, from…feeling safe. Like it does with you.” 

The next sound you hear on the line can only be described as a thump. No words, just a soft thump on…drywall? 

“…Eddie?” 

“Sorry sweetheart–had to bang my head on the wall to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” he says, and God you can feel his stupid smile through the phone. “Your dad didn’t get me today but you sure almost killed me with that.” 

You blink a few times before giggling into the phone. “You’re such a goddamn dork, oh my god!”

“Yeah, well. You still love me though, right?” 

“Unfortunately,” you tease. 

He laughs. “Good. Then we’ll just be fine.” 

“Yeah, assuming we do get to see each other again,” you sigh. 

“Ohh, talking about that,” his voice gets lower, he’s probably got a hand around the transmitter as he whispers into the phone. “Wayne’s taking a double shift tomorrow. He’ll be gone the whole day.”

“…Okay?” You say slowly, but you’re already pressing your legs together from anticipation. 

“Trailer will be all ours, sweetheart,” he drawls. “All day and aaall night. And I can get you home before your daddy even wakes up...” 

You bite your lip. “Eddie Munson, are you telling me you want me to sneak off my house to spend the night at yours?”

He hums nonchalantly. “Uhum. Even got your favorite ice cream in the fridge and some whipped cream. If you get lucky I’ll let you lick the whipped cream off my d–”

“Jesus Eddie!” You cover your mouth to stifle another fit of laughter. 

God, you never got bored with this man. 

“You’re insatiable. Did you know that?” You pretend to scold, but your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

“Oh I know, angel. But so are you. A freak just like me, remember? That’s why tomorrow you’re gonna climb out that window like a good girl and let me fuck you on my bed. You know you can be as loooud as you want here.” 

You curse internally. But fuck yes you are letting him do just that. And hell yeah, you will be as loud as you want. 

“You better have enough whipped cream, Eddie.”

You glanced up at him with a smile, tucking your face into his chest and looking around the room full of people you loved—your father, your sister, the Byers, Mike and Nancy, Dustin, Lucas and Max. An odd assortment that you never would have expected to come together for the holidays, even a month ago.  

“How would the three of you like to join us for Christmas dinner?” Mrs. Byers had asked, holding your arm at the top of the Wheelers’ basement stairs where you were picking up your respective charges.

You had your sneaking suspicions about why she was so interested in your family coming over, but none of her reasons were any you objected to. “We’d love to,” you’d smiled, ignoring the clamboring going on down the staircase (and the smell). “Can I bring anything? Pies, maybe?” 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” her eyes had lit up. 

“No, please, I’d love to help.” 

“I’m a terrible baker. I’m a much better cook, I promise, but honestly, I was going to let Will try his hand at the desserts, and I don’t know how that would have gone. I think he’s much more interested in decorating the menus and the name plates.” 

You’d laughed softly. “I’d love to. And El’s got a pretty big sweet tooth, so I’m sure I can wrangle her help if I need back up.” 

“You’re a lifesaver,” she had smiled. 

“Well, I can’t wait. Thanks for inviting us. I’m sure Dad’ll be excited.” You noticed how she glanced down at the steps. 

“The boys and Max are all invited too,” she’s said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Although I’m not sure what all their plans are with their families—” 

“Can Steve come?” Dustin had piped up from the base of the stairs. 

“Are you inviting other people to someone else’s house, now, Henderson?” you interjected. 

“Like you don’t want him there,” Lucas giggled, putting his hands behind his back and giving a crude imitation of two people making out, presumably you and Steve. You rolled your eyes, and Max came to your rescue, whacking him over the head with a comic book. “He’s cool now, Mrs. Byers,” the boy dropped his high pitched, teasing voice. 

“Swear.” Dustin added. “And he did sort of save the day last year when your son ran off to fight a demogorgon.” 

“Let’s not drag Jonathan into this—” you tried to interrupt, giving Mrs. Byers an apologetic look. 

She waved her hand. “Of course he can come, if he’d like. It’s a family dinner. You’ve got as much a right to bring your…” she trailed off like she wasn’t sure exactly whether you and Steve were together and, charitably, dropped her voice to a whisper to avoid the kids eavesdropping, “boyfriend?” You nodded, trying to hide the smile that grew on your face, and she smiled coyly back. “You’ve got as much a right to bring him as Jonathan does Nancy,” she added.

“You’re sure they wouldn’t mind?” 

“Of course not. And either way, my house. Besides, I’ll need someone to wrangle the troops if this crowd all turns up, and I’ve heard he’s not too bad at it.” She nudged your arm, like you were in on a joke together.

“Okay.” You couldn't really hide your small smile. “I’ll see if he’s busy.”

A voice rang from downstairs. “He’s not. His parents are out of town.” 

“Dustin!" You'd exclaimed. don’t need you giving me updates on Steve’s calendar!” You’d known that. Steve had teasingly reminded you several times in the past week that his house would be empty the week of Christmas and New Years.

But you didn’t think he would’ve wanted Joyce Byers knowing his parents are basically absent from his life. You rolled your eyes, and thought to yourself that Dustin really had to get a grasp on a little more self-awareness. 

Mrs. Byers gave you a pitying look, one you assumed was meant for your orphaned-for-the-holidays-boyfriend. You wondered whether it would make her feel better or worse that Steve was much happier that way. 

“Well, he’s more than welcome,” she said with a smile. 

Now, you were sitting on the couch in the Byers’ living room, watching as the kids exchanged Christmas gifts. They’d all managed to make it. Max was the first person El wanted to come, after Mike, and Will was very persistent about the situation after he found out about everything that had happened with Billy.

You and Steve had left before dinner, with Will in the backseat as spokesperson for the Byers, to assure her parents that she was welcome and that you would have her back by nine-thirty. 

Mike and Nancy had arrived just in time for dessert after escaping a horribly dull family reunion at their house. Dustin and Lucas had biked over after staging an escape plan from their respective families perfectly pleasant Christmas evenings, which had left Mrs. Byers very stressed out over whether all the other moms would think she was trying to steal their children away.

You’d received a distressed radio call from about a mile away when they realized not all the roads were plowed enough for bicycle travel, and once again you and Steve had been sent to collect them. 

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin were tearing things open like animals, even after Nancy scolded them for it. Will was saving his paper and El was following his lead, while Max tore through hers, just not like a lunatic. They exchanged various comic books and action figures, and Lucas and Mike even gave Max and El little matching necklaces that bore suspicious resemblances to the one Steve had given you the day after the Sno-Ball, when you had finally gotten together. 

You watched them with contentment. Everything about the night had been perfect even before it started. Getting the pies ready—which had come out perfectly—with El. Your father gazing on from the living room, Steve showing up to drive you and your sister to dinner with a little charm bracelet for El.

You were just glad he’d given it to her then and not waited, or Mike Wheeler’s vendetta against him would’ve grown when he saw how it completely outdid his necklace. 

You could feel your eyes getting heavier, and Steve’s grip around your waist getting stronger to stop you falling off the edge of the couch. At some point, between the food coma and the warmth of the room, you fell asleep, nestled comfortably into your boyfriend’s arms. 

Steve, through his own heavy eyelids, saw Hopper bristling across the room, his leg bouncing like he was going to get up any second. Gratefully, he witnessed Mrs. Byers give him a look, putting her hand on his knee and stop him from getting up, likely to drag Steve far, far, away from his daughter. 

You woke up to Jonathan and Nancy no longer in the living room, your father asleep in an armchair, and Mrs. Byers stretched out along the couch. Max, Lucas, El, and Dustin were the only ones still awake. Mike and Will were asleep in a pile on the floor, which Lucas was giggling about and Max was quietly swatting him for. 

“Steve,” you whispered, shaking the arm holding you. 

“Hmm?” he mumbled.

“C’mon, we have to take Max home.” The girl and her friends all threw up their hands in protest, although respectfully silently. 

“Five more minutes,” he said groggily, and the kids nodded eagerly. You checked your watch. 9:12. 

“No, we have to go, babe. It’s gonna take longer to get there in the snow.” 

“Mmm. Alright.” He shifted, and you almost fell off the side of the couch, but he held on, and you stayed off the floor. 

He sat up, running a hand through his hair and surveying the scene. He gestured at the kids, and, rolling their eyes, they all got up. 

Standing up, you pulled El into a hug. “You wanna stay here with Dad for the night?” you asked. She nodded. “Alright. Let’s get you tucked in.”

She took your spot on the couch, and you tucked her in tight. She giggled as you grabbed her toes and shoved the ends of the blankets underneath. 

You turned around and almost, embarrassingly, swooned as you saw Steve pick up Will Byers off the floor and carry him down the hall to his room. He came back and raised an eyebrow at you, asking what to do about Mike, who still lay sprawled out, shivering in his sleep, on the living room floor.

You pointed down the hall, and Steve lifted him up and carried him down to Will’s room, too. Neither of them woke up as you tucked them into bed side by side, although Lucas and Dustin chortled in Will’s doorway.

You gestured, sending them back down the hall. You scribbled out a note for your Dad, telling him you were either headed home or to Steve’s, if the snow was too heavy to get to the cabin. (You were going to Steve’s either way.) He read it over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your cheek when he got to that part. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“Drive the kids home in one piece, and then we’ll see,” you intoned.

“What,” he whispered back. “Did you think I was, like, implying something?” A grin spread across his face, and you rolled your eyes. But you were smiling too. 

“Get in the car.” 

He spun around and silently directed the kids out of the house, a mysterious sense of purpose suddenly instilled in his step. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” he whispered, as they took too long tying their shoelaces and buttoning their coats. 

He didn’t think he’d ever been on a car journey that long. The kids complained as he fumbled with the car key through his gloves, and then when you got inside and the car wouldn’t warm up fast enough. 

“What’s the point of the beamer if the heating barely even works,” Dustin had grumbled, still frustrated that you were in the front even though he had called shotgun (not your call—you respected the rules of the game, but Steve had refused to start the car until you were in the passenger seat). 

“Y’know, you could walk home, Henderson,” Steve replied, his hand coming up to your headrest as he turned the car around in the driveway. 

The snow, coupled with the fact that Lucas and Dustin kept talking over Max’s instructions on how to get back to her house, made the drive about ten minutes longer than it should have been, and Steve and Max raced up her doorstep to apologize profusely to Mrs. Mayfield. Thankfully, Billy wasn’t home, a thought that only occurred to you after Steve was halfway across the front yard. He snagged his jacked back from Max, which you hadn’t even realized he had given her as she got out of the car into the biting Indiana cold, and ran back to the car, where Lucas and Dustin were already arguing again over whose house they were sleeping over at. They landed on Dustin’s—he had the advantage of no prying little sister—and Steve rolled his eyes as he pointed out that they had to choose the one way further out of the way. 

“It’s way closer to the cabin!” Dustin grumbled. “You had to go there anyway.” 

“He’s not taking her to the cabin, dude,” Lucas had elbowed him. 

“What do you—” 

“You know what, it wouldn’t kill you not to be all up in everyone else’s business, Henderson,” Steve said, making eye contact with him in the mirror. You turned to Lucas in the back, and the two of you burst out laughing. 

But eventually, you dropped them both off, and were finally, finally, on your way to Steve’s. 

“Y’know, I could just stop the car here…” he had said. It was hard to take him seriously when he was trying to be seductive, but also shivering on the brink of freezing to death. 

“Nice try, Harrington. If you think I’m taking any of these layers off for you anywhere other than your heated bedroom, you’re out of your damn mind.” 

“Must really be Christmas if you’re threatening me by promising to strip in my bedroom,” he had smirked, but you noticed him accelerating a little more. 

“Careful, babe. It’s still icy out.” 

“She’s got it,” he drummed on the dashboard, and you snickered. 

“Eager, much?” 

“For you? Always.” 

He pulled into the driveway, and slung his jacket around your shoulders before you could even move for the door. 

“Hang on,” he added, jumping out and running around to brush the snow off your door and side of the roof, so it wouldn’t fall on your neck when you got out. 

“Thank you,” you hummed, smiling as he pulled you out of the car and into the house. 

“Hang on,” he said, laughing softly as you headed for the stairs. “Eager, much?” 

You watched as he made two mugs of hot chocolate. He looked to you, a bottle of some fancy whiskey of his fathers in hand, and you nodded. He added it to your mugs with the heavy pour of someone used to mixing drinks for a high school party. 

He handed you your mug, and you took a sip. It was perfect, and you told him as much. 

He took a sip of his as well, and then paused. “I had a really good time tonight,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah?” you smiled, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I dunno. It just, like, felt really good, you know?” 

“Weird-ass little family,” you said, and you both laughed.

“Yeah. But, it was nice. Cozy.” The Harringtons’ house loomed around you. All well-decorated and classy, some decorations left up from the party his parents had thrown before leaving for their trip, but that was all they were—decorations. There hadn’t been any gifts left under the tree. Everything his parents had “gotten" him had been left in the form of cash for him to pick out himself. 

“Yeah,” you studied him as he shifted, his fingers grasping his hot chocolate. “I’m glad you were there.” 

“I’m glad I was there, too.” 

“Mrs. Byers really wanted you there, just so you know.”

“Yeah? Not too mad about me beating up her son?” 

“Beating up is a strong word for it,” you laughed into your cup. 

“Alright.”

“I mean, he kicked your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

“It’s okay. I’m not with you for your ability to defend me. Although you’ve done a pretty good job of it so far.” 

He looked up at you. “Why are you with me?” 

“You’re pretty sexy,” you smirked. You took another sip of your hot chocolate. You had pretty much reached the end of it, and you could feel it. 

Steve laughed, placing his own mug down on the counter. You paid a little too much attention to his forearm that you could see below his rolled up sweater sleeve. 

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in and kissing the top of your head. 

And then he pulled back. And then he kissed your mouth. He tasted like chocolate and whiskey and peppermint, like he’d popped one in the car without you noticing. And you kissed him back, sliding your hands around to his back and leaning on his body. 

Steve took his time. His lips moved slowly against yours, like suddenly he wasn’t desperate to get you in his bed like he had been in the car. And it was driving you crazy. 

You pulled his hands down from where they cradled your face and dragged them to the hem of your sweater. He wasn’t sliding him underneath, and you could have cried from frustration. He was always so touchy, so eager to be all over you, and you couldn’t figure out what was different tonight. 

It turned out, Steve was a little more tipsy than he’d let on. Somehow the whiskey had gotten to him more than he expected. Drunk Steve moved a little slower, a little more willing to savor the moment than usual. Just as eager, but not letting it show in all his usual ways. 

But he dragged his knuckles up your torso, and you were grateful he was a human radiator. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t shivering under your touch. His fingers grazed your bra, and he pulled his lips back. 

“I thought you weren’t taking anything off outside my room,” he smiled into the kiss. 

“Then take me upstairs,” you whispered. 

You weren’t expecting him to lift you up and carry you. Whenever you’d come to his before, it’d been a mess of tripping and tumbling up the stairs, desperate to reach the sanctuary of his room. But now he stopped at each landing, holding you against the wall and kissing you softly. 

When you finally reached his room, he laid you down on his bed and held himself up over you, reveling in the way you writhed against nothing beneath him. 

He gave you a little reprieve, slotting his leg between your thighs and giving you something to twitch against. Your breathing slowed as the whiskey hit you a little harder, but you still pressed your aching core into his thigh. 

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “So good for me.” You moaned in his. 

His fingers slid beneath your waistband, and you twitched in anticipation. When his warm, thick fingers finally slid between your folds you gasped, and he shifted, almost begging you to bite down on the point where his neck met his shoulder. 

“I just wanna make you feel good,” he whispered as you did, and you practically whimpered. His thumb rubbed slow, hard circles against your clit as he slid two fingers inside of you, already embarrassingly wet enough for him to do so. 

You were thankful for the empty house as you gasped and pleaded incoherently with him. 

“You’re so good. You’re so beautiful. Is this good?” he couldn’t help asking, even though he knew the answer. Your hands took turns scratching at his back under his shirt and pulling at his hair. You tugged at his shirt, and immediately regretted it when he pulled away to pull it over his head. 

“I know, I know, baby,” he whispered, as your pussy clenched around nothing and he slid his fingers between your lips. You sucked at them desperately, and it went straight to Steve’s cock. 

He pulled you upright to pull your thin sweater off, the outline of your breasts no longer enough for him. He unclasped your bra with one practiced hand, and you whimpered against his lips as the warmth left you. He made up for it by pressing his chest to yours, kissing you hard and slow. He slid his tongue between your lips, desperate to taste you, and then he let himself wander. 

His lips trailed along your jaw, your neck, down your chest as he massaged your tits. Down your stomach, until he was pulling your jeans down just far enough to lap at the wetness soaking through your panties. 

He moaned against your clit, like having his face full of your pussy was bringing him more pleasure than it was to you, and the vibrations made you gasp and grip his sheets with the hand that wasn’t in his hair. He grabbed it in his, slotting his fingers between yours and pressing it into the mattress, propping himself up. With his other hand, he pulled your jeans and panties the rest of the way off, and you gasped at the cold. 

You whined when he left you completely, running across his room to adjust the thermostat. But he made up for it by rushing back, burying his face in your exposed pussy. He made out with it. His nose bumped against your clit and you moaned repeatedly. It’s all you could hear, except for when he would break away to speak—

“So— fucking— good, so fucking perfect. Fuck.” 

You almost didn’t notice his bulge practically fucking the edge of the bed. 

“Baby,” you tried. He was so desperate. He deserved something, you had to be able to do something—

But he buried his tongue in your hole, and you were completely useless. 

“Steve— Steve, Steve, I’m so close,” you cried, but he could tell. You were tight around his tongue, around his fingers, and he let you grind against his nose as you begged and pleaded for what he was already giving you. 

You were right there when he pulled back. He knelt back on his haunches, watching for a moment as you writhed before him, desperate for anything that could simulate what he had just been giving you. 

“Please, please, please Steve. Please, fuck,” you managed, your eyes following his insane hair, his torso, to his hips, just above his cock that was straining against his jeans. It looked painful. 

Yeah. Steve was drunk. Only in this state could he stand to see you so desperate, so needy, and not immediately do something about it. He still couldn’t hold out for long. 

He returned to your pussy, soft and slow, before working up to the aggressive pace he’d been holding before. Your orgasm built in you faster this time. You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him down so he couldn’t keep torturing you. Not that you’d have really been able to do anything about it if he decided you were going to keep waiting. 

“I, I, I, oh, fuck, Steve,” you moaned. 

You came around his fingers with a cry. For a moment, all you felt was relief, until he kept going. He didn’t slow down for what felt like minutes, and you were crying and pleading all over again. When he finally slowed and pulled back, his lips, his face, was coated with you. He wiped his face with his hand, spreading your slick across your body as he ran his hands all over you, gently, letting you feel how soft and calloused they managed to be at the same time. 

You could taste yourself when he kissed you. Desperately. His tongue pushed through your lips, pressing against yours. Your spit mixed with his. It was messy. He didn’t care. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed. “You looked so fucking good just writhing like that. One day I’m going to leave you like that for hours, you know? I’m gonna eat your pussy for hours, and I’m not going to let you come until I’ve had enough of it. I might never get enough of it.” 

You just moaned against his mouth. But you pushed your hand downward, and he lurched as you cupped his clothed cock in your hand. You palmed him for a moment, and his kiss became more desperate, hungrier. 

“Poor baby,” you whispered. “Still haven’t gotten off, hmm?” 

“Almost did. Almost came in my fucking jeans, that’s how pathetic you make me. That’s how beautiful you looked.” 

“You’re not pathetic, baby,” you smiled into his lips. “You just need to come.” 

You pushed him over onto his back, crawling down the bed, but he grabbed your arm to stop you. 

“No,” he managed. “Not tonight, I just want—I just want to feel you. Please. Is that okay?” 

Your pussy throbbed at his words, somehow already desperate again. 

“Yeah, of course, baby,” you whispered against his lips. “You sure?” 

He nodded, pushing himself up. You stretched out against the mattress, the warmth enveloping your stomach. You heard the zipper of his jeans behind you, heard his voice whispering filthy shit in your ear.

You saw his hand reaching for his nightstand, and grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

“What’re you…” 

“It’s fine,” you said, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “I don’t… I want it. You don’t need one.” 

Steve thought he might lose his fucking mind. You were on birth control, and you both knew it. But that didn’t do anything against the barrage of thoughts in his mind at that moment. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. You could feel his cock still in his boxers, twitching against your lower back. 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

You heard the snap of his waistband as he pulled his boxers the rest of the way off. Felt the press of his cock against your pussy. Then, finally, felt as he buried himself inside of you, and you moaned together. His forehead rested on the back of your head, and he pressed kisses into your neck. 

“Fuck, Steve.” 

The stretch was overwhelming, as always. He was slow, at first. 

“C’mon, Harrington,” you almost whispered. “You’re so good with those kids. Fuck a baby into me.” 

Steve was only so strong. He got faster, harder. He fucked you into the mattress as you both moaned and gasped and you bit down on the thumb of the hand he was holding himself up on. 

“You feel so fucking good, Steve,” you said breathlessly below him. He watched your bare back move as you stretched and arched to accommodate him. He was completely unrestrained. You were like a fucking dream. Taking his cock so fucking well. 

He thought he said that out loud. He was sure he did, actually. He didn’t care. He didn’t care what fell from his lips. As long as he was praising you, it was true. 

“I love you.” It fell from his lips like a prayer. 

You moaned. “I love you too, baby. I want it with you. I want the whole thing. The family, the—” 

There were tears in Steve’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from how good you felt, how well you were taking his cock, or from your words. 

“I want it with you, too,” he breathed. And thank god he felt your pussy tightening around his cock, because he wasn’t sure he could last much longer. 

You tightened around him and came with what would’ve been a scream if you hadn’t muffled it in his pillow. 

“Shit,” he gasped. “Shit, shit, shit, are you sure? Are you sure? I’m gonna—”

All you could do was nod into the pillow.

The noise Steve’s orgasm pulled from him was unlike anything you’d heard from him before. He came inside you, and you buried your face in his pillow as ropes of his warm cum filled you up. You sighed in relief as his thrusting slowed. It got lazier, like he was just trying to keep his cum inside you, before he collapsed on top of you, wrapping an arm around you and rolling you both around to lay on his chest, still inside of you. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered. 

“Holy shit,” he repeated, still catching his breath. You pulled yourself off of him before turning to face him, pressing your lips against his. 

“I love you, Steve.” 

He cradled your face in his hands, and then wrapped his arms around your torso. You were so exhausted that you didn’t notice him get up to get a hot washcloth and clean you up, or pull something resembling pajamas over your body. He tucked you into the covers and climbed in beside you. You just knew that you fell asleep in his arms, and it was one of the best nights of sleep you’d ever had. 

You woke up to about a million messages on the Harringtons’ answering machine from your father. 

Steve just looked at you nervously. You shrugged. 

“It’s still early. Another hour or so won’t kill him,” you said.

So Steve moved for the kitchen, and you spent the morning by his fireplace with french toast and hot chocolate, without the whiskey. It was domestic. And it was so perfect.

reblogs, likes and comments are so so appreciated!!

But you had reassured Steve at least a hundred times that your dad was not actually going to use it. Still, Steve had his concerns. Very valid ones, in his opinion. Because there was intimidating, and then there was Jim Hopper leaning back on the couch with a firearm in his lap while Steve sat on the opposite end trying to keep a respectable three inches between himself and you like that tiny gap was the only thing preserving his life.

The rule, oh god, the rule itself was torture. If Steve’s hand got too close to yours, Hopper cleared his throat. If Steve leaned in to hear you better, Hopper shifted in his seat. If your knee brushed Steve’s for half a second, Steve could actually feel Hopper’s glare hit the side of his face like heat from the sun.

It was not like you didn’t try to defend his honour. You did, every time. You would roll your eyes and tell your dad he was being overprotective, that Steve was nice, that Steve had literally helped save the world more than once, which should have earned him at least a little trust and maybe the right to sit next to his friend without being treated like a criminal.

But Hopper was persistent in the way only fathers of daughters could be, especially daughters they loved enough to terrify teenage boys over. He would grunt, mumble something about manners and boundaries, and continue staring Steve down like he was waiting for him to do one wrong thing.

Steve, for his part, tried very hard to never do the wrong thing. He was so polite at your house it was actually pathetic. He sat up straight, said sir more than he had ever said it in his life, and once thanked Hopper for passing the salt which very clearly was pepper. And the worst part was that none of it helped.

Still, Steve kept coming over.

Because of you.

Because you were, very simply, the most amazing person Steve had ever met. Ever seen, ever heard about, ever talked with, ever laughed with, ever cried with, ever fought monsters beside, ever bled beside, ever stumbled out of the end of the world beside.

You made Steve feel seen in a way that still startled him sometimes. Like you had looked past all the old versions of him, the ones he was embarrassed by and the ones he still did not fully know what to do with, and decided he was worth keeping anyway. It was a terrifying thing, being cared for by you. Not bad terrifying, not Hopper’s-gun terrifying, but the kind that made his chest ache because he wanted to be worthy of it all the time.

Steve, for his part, liked to think of what he felt for you as admiration. Friendly admiration.

The kind a person might feel for someone they happened to enjoy spending every possible second with, someone whose voice he could pick out in a crowded room without trying, someone whose bad moods he could sense before you even said a word.

It was probably just admiration that made him remember every little thing you told him, like how you hated orange candy but liked orange juice.

It was definitely just admiration that made his chest go warm and oddly tight whenever you smiled at him. And if he thought you were the bravest girl he had ever known, if he found himself wanting to make you laugh even when he was exhausted, if every near-death experience only seemed to increase the thought that being near you mattered more than he knew how to explain, well, that was probably still friendly.

Steve was pretty sure. At least, he was sure enough to keep telling himself that, because the alternative felt a little too big to look at directly.

A hand suddenly snapped in front of Steve’s face, dragging him clean out of the mess of his own thoughts.

“Steve. Hey, Steve. Earth to Steven.”

He blinked hard, like he had just been caught doing something illegal, and turned to find you standing there with your eyebrows raised and your mouth twitching like you were trying not to laugh. “Huh? Hey. What?”

You tilted your head at him, amused in that easy way that always made him feel both warm and deeply ridiculous. “I need to go somewhere. It will only take half an hour. Do you want to stay here, or are you going home?”

Steve glanced automatically toward the living room and narrowed his eyes a little. “If I say stay, is your dad going to kill me?”

You huffed out a laugh. “No, I don't think so. And besides, he is not here today.”

And just like that, the relief on Steve’s face was almost embarrassing. His shoulders dropped, his whole expression loosened, and a smile came over him. “Oh. Okay. Then yeah, I can wait here.”

Your eyes brightened at once, pleased in a way that made something in Steve’s chest do a stupid little flip. You grinned at him, quick and pretty and impossible not to stare at. “Okay. I promise I will come quick. Also, Jane may come in between from school, but I think she will leave for Max’s immediately after. Could you just make sure she has her lunch first?”

Steve nodded without hesitation. “All right.”

You smiled even wider. “Thanks. I will be back. Watch a tape in the meantime?”

He gave you a small nod, still looking at you with a loopy smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

Steve had been sitting there for a while, half-watching Star Wars and half-thinking about you (in a friendly way, of course), which was lately how most of his afternoons went.

Then he heard the clicking at the door.

He barely looked up at first, just assumed it was Jane coming in from school. So he kept watching the tape, eyes still on the screen, waiting for the door to open fully. But when it did, the light from outside was mostly blocked all at once, swallowed by a figure much bigger than Jane had any business being, and Steve knew immediately that it was definitely not her.

For one brief, insane second, he secretly hoped it was a demogorgon.

At least with a demogorgon, he knew where he stood.

But the universe was clearly not on his side, because when he turned, it was Hopper.

Steve swallowed so fast it almost hurt and lunged for the remote, pausing the tape just as Hopper stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Hopper’s eyes landed on Steve in that exact way they always did, like he had come home and found a raccoon in his kitchen trying to act natural. He stared for one long second before grunting, “Where are my daughters?”

Steve opened his mouth. “Out.”

The second the word left him, he knew it was the wrong answer. Too vague. Too much like something a guilty man would say right before being buried in a shallow grave. He corrected himself so quickly he almost tripped over the words. “I mean, Jane is at school. Or at Max’s. And, uh, Y/N is out for some work.”

Hopper narrowed his eyes. “What kind of work?”

“I did not ask,” Steve said, trying for honesty and landing somewhere closer to panic.

Hopper kept looking at him for another second, then walked farther into the room. Steve followed every movement.

Hopper came over and sat down on the seat adjacent to the couch, close enough that Steve could smell cigarettes and general parental disapproval.

Steve stood up on instinct almost immediately, because that seemed like the safest thing to do, maybe the smartest, maybe the thing most likely to save his life expectancy.

Hopper looked up at him. “Sit down.”

Steve froze. “What?”

“I said sit down. I want to talk.”

“Cool,” Steve said, nodding too much, as he sat down and looked around. “Cool, cool. Uh, so. Crime, huh? Terrible.”

Hopper did not blink. “I want to talk about my daughter.”

Steve nodded immediately. “Oh, yes. Jane is a lovely girl. Very. . .” He faltered for a second under Hopper’s stare. “Sweet?”

Hopper’s face did not change. “My other daughter.”

Steve’s stomach dropped. “Y/N?” he said, then attempted a smile that came out strained and weird. “Oh, yeah. Y/N is amazing too. Really smart.”

Hopper leaned back slightly, still watching him with that unreadable expression that made Steve feel like he was being measured for a coffin. “There’s the problem.”

Steve stared. “Her being smart?”

“You.”

Steve went quiet, which for him in a bad situation was saying something. Hopper rested his forearms on his knees and looked straight ahead for a moment before speaking again.

“I don’t like you,” he said.

Steve let out one awkward breath. “Yeah, no, I got that.”

“I don’t like you around her. I don’t like how much time you spend here. I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

Steve’s hands tightened together. He looked down at them, then back up, then down again, unsure where it was safest to look. “We are just hanging out. As friends.” He added the last part quickly although he didn't believe it enough himself.

Hopper let out a humorless little sound. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

Steve did not answer, mostly because he had the strong feeling there was not a single correct answer available to him.

For a moment Hopper said nothing. Then, he continued, “You know why I don’t like it?”

Steve swallowed. “Because you think I am a bad influence?”

“No.” Hopper’s eyes moved to him. “Because I think you and me are too similar.”

That, somehow, was not what Steve had expected, and the confusion must have shown on his face because Hopper kept going.

“You walk around like you are trying real hard to be useful,” he said. “Like if you keep helping, keep showing up, keep making yourself necessary, nobody will notice all the things wrong with you. You act like a kid who already decided what kind of man he is and does not think much of the answer.”

Steve opened his mouth and then shut it again.

Hopper looked away for a second, jaw working. “And I know that look because I know what it feels like. Thinking you care about somebody enough should be enough. Thinking maybe if you want to do better bad enough, that counts for something. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

Steve’s throat felt dry. “I care about her. . .”

“I know,” Hopper said. “That’s not what worries me.”

Steve frowned a little. “Then what does?”

“Because I'm not good enough for my little girl,” he said. “And if you’re anything like me, then you’re not good enough for my little girl either.”

The words hit hard enough that Steve actually felt his chest go tight. Like he had reached down into the very worst place inside Steve and pulled out the thing Steve already feared most.

Steve laughed once under his breath, except there was nothing funny in it. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

Hopper looked at him then, maybe expecting an argument, maybe expecting Steve to push back, to insist he was better than that.

Steve did not. Because the awful part was, he did not really know how to.

He thought about you laughing with him, trusting him, calling him when things went wrong, smiling like he belonged in your life, and all at once that felt less like something lucky and more like something temporary. Like maybe Hopper was just the first person cruel enough to say out loud what Steve should have figured out sooner.

“I am trying,” Steve said after a long moment. “I mean, I know I screw things up sometimes, but I am trying.”

Hopper shrugged. “Trying is a start.”

That was not comfort. That was barely even mercy.

Steve looked down at the paused television screen, at his own faint reflection in it, warped. “She should get somebody better than me,” he thought to himself.

The front door opened.

Both of them looked up at once just as Jane stepped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Hello,” she said.

By the time you got back, the first thing you noticed was Steve’s car was gone.

You slowed in the driveway, frowning as you looked at the empty spot where it had been parked earlier, a small, confused crease forming between your brows.

For a second you just stood there with your keys in hand, staring at nothing, like maybe if you looked long enough the car would magically reappear and Steve would climb out with one of his sheepish smiles and some rambling explanation that would somehow make perfect sense because it was him. But the driveway stayed empty, and that strange little disappointment settled heavier in your chest than it probably should have.

When you stepped inside, you could smell the dinner, and the sound of conversation from the kitchen.

You slipped your shoes off and headed in, only to stop slightly when you saw your dad already there with Jane.

You looked at Hopper. “Hey. Uh, Dad, you’re early.”

Hopper just nodded once. “Come sit for dinner.”

You glanced between him and Jane, still half-thinking Steve might somehow appear from another room, but when he did not, you pulled out a chair and sat down. “Right.”

For a minute, you tried to ignore the odd feeling curling in your stomach. Then you leaned a little toward Jane and lowered your voice. “Hey, where’s Steve?”

Jane looked at you, then flicked her eyes over your shoulder in a quick glance toward Hopper before answering. “He left ten minutes ago.”

Your face fell before you could stop it. “Oh.”

It came out smaller than you meant it to. You sat back in your chair after that, quieting down a little, your earlier ease gone fuzzy around the edges.

It was not like Steve had to wait around forever for you, obviously. He had his own life. You knew that. Still, he could have stayed. Or at least left a note. Or told Jane something more than that. The whole thing sat strangely with you, like a sentence missing its last word.

Later, shut inside your room with the door closed, you called him.

The phone rang just long enough for you to start thinking maybe he would not pick up, and then there was the familiar click of the line connecting. “Hey,” you said at once, tucking one leg under you on the bed. “You left.”

There was a pause.

Then Steve said, “Yeah. Uh, Henderson called me with code red.”

You furrowed your brows immediately. That made no sense. You had literally been with Dustin earlier because he had forgotten something at home and needed it at school, and he had seemed perfectly fine. Nothing about him had said emergency.

Still, all you said was, “Oh.”

The word sat there between you, uncertain.

You stared at the wall across from your bed, turning the phone cord around your finger. You wondered, not for the first time, why Steve was lying to you. Because he was. You knew he was.

But you pushed the thought aside, deciding for the moment not to make something out of what might be nothing. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe he had just had one of those weird Steve moments where his brain tripped over itself and produced nonsense.

You took a small breath, already getting ready to ask him about the movie, already knowing the answer was probably Star Wars because Steve’s devotion to those tapes bordered on religious, but before you could say anything else, he cut in.

“Can we talk later?” Steve said quickly. “I need to go somewhere.”

You blinked. “Oh. Uh.”

The disappointment hit sharper this time, quick and stupid and annoyingly difficult to hide, but you swallowed it down anyway. “Okay.”

And before you could say bye, or even soften it with a laugh or ask one more question or make sense of the strange distance in his voice, the line clicked dead.

Your bye stayed there, useless, hanging.

The next day, you told yourself Steve had probably just been tired.

That was the easiest explanation, and the one that annoyed you the least, so you held onto it all the way to Family Video.

By the time you pushed open the door and stepped inside, you had managed to convince yourself that everything was normal, that you were not thinking too hard about the awkward phone call, and that Steve would take one look at you and immediately go back to being his usual sweet, slightly frazzled self.

Robin looked up from behind the counter when the bell above the door jingled. “Hey.”

You smiled and wandered over. “Hey.”

She leaned her elbows on the counter and gave you a look that was far too knowing for ten seconds into a conversation. “You here to see Steve?”

You widened your eyes in fake innocence. “I could be here to see you too.”

Robin raised one brow.

You lasted about half a second. “Yeah, I’m here to see Steve.”

“Thought so,” she said, not even pretending to be surprised. Then she jerked her thumb toward the back. “He’s in the back. You could wait here for some time.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

So you stayed there at the counter, trying very hard to look casual and very obviously failing, because every few seconds your eyes drifted toward the back room like maybe Steve would appear if you stared hard enough.

Robin noticed, of course. Robin noticed everything, which was one of the many reasons she was so deeply annoying.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “you’re not really subtle with your whole crush thing.”

Your head snapped toward her so fast it was a miracle your neck survived. “What crush thing?”

Robin looked at you like you were the dumbest person she had met all week, and she worked with Steve, so that was saying something. “The whole you having a crush on dingus thing.”

You let out an offended laugh that was entirely too loud. “I do not have a crush on Steve. Pfft. You’re delirious, Robin.”

She said nothing and kept looking at you with that patient, unbearable expression of someone waiting for you to finish lying to yourself in public. You crossed your arms, then uncrossed them, then sighed.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Ugh. I have a crush on Steve. Is that what you want to hear?”

Robin’s face lit up in immediate satisfaction. “Totally.”

You groaned, but now that it was out there, the words just kept coming, all tripping over each other in one giant embarrassing rush.

“I mean, it’s not like I planned it, okay? It just happened. He’s just. . .” You exhaled and glanced away, suddenly very interested in the tapes behind the counter.

“He’s Steve. He’s sweet, and stupidly brave, and always there when it matters, and he does this thing where he acts like he’s joking even when he’s being really sincere, and I know people think he’s all hair and idiot energy, but he’s not. Well, he is, a little, but he’s also so good. Like actually good.” Your voice softened without your permission. “And he cares so much. About everyone. About the kids. About me.” A dreamy sigh escaped you before you could stop it. “He just makes everything feel easier.”

Robin stared at you for a long second. “And you see all that in Steve Harrington?”

You frowned at her. “Yeah.”

She made a face. “Disgusting.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were still smiling a little despite yourself.

Then Robin’s gaze shifted past you, toward the back, and her expression changed into one of immediate delight at the chance to make things weird. “Anyways,” she said, “looks like he’s free.”

You turned and there was Steve, stepping out from the back.

You did not even think about it before you started walking toward him.

“Hey, Steven.”

For a second, you thought you imagined it. Hoped you imagined it, really. Because the moment he heard your voice, Steve tensed. Just for a second. A tiny thing most people probably would not notice. But you noticed. Your steps faltered slightly, that strange feeling from yesterday creeping back up your spine.

Steve turned to you, and the tension smoothed out so quickly you almost convinced yourself it had never been there.

“You’re here,” he said.

You nodded, smiling the way you always did when you saw him. “Yes. I wanted to see you.”

Steve blinked once. “Why?”

The question landed strangely, like a step where the ground was not quite where you expected it to be. Your smile stayed in place, but you suddenly felt awkward, unsure what exactly had happened between yesterday and today.

“Do I need a reason?” you asked lightly.

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, of course not.”

The awkwardness eased immediately hearing his normal response, and you felt your shoulders relax again. That was the Steve you knew. The one who would never make you feel weird for showing up.

Then he added, a little too quickly, “I was just busy today. Rush hour, you know.”

You glanced around the store.

There were maybe five customers total, and two of them were arguing near the Holiday movie section.

You looked back at him. “Five is a rush for you?”

Steve paused. “. . . Yes?”

You tilted your head, concerned now. “Steve, is something wrong? Did I do something?”

His face softened instantly. “No. Of course not. You are perfect.”

The words came out so fast they almost tripped over each other.

You felt heat rush to your face before you could stop it, and you looked away quickly, trying very hard not to blush like an idiot in the middle of Family Video.

Unfortunately, Steve noticed.

Which made him immediately start stammering. “I uh well, I just—” He grabbed a stack of tapes beside him like they had personally called for help. “I just need to organize these tapes.”

You pointed at them. “I could help.”

Steve blinked. “Uhhh. . . okay.”

So the two of you ended up in the back room, standing side by side with shelves of tapes between you and the rest of the store.

At first the conversation was normal. Mostly. You talked about school, about Dustin complaining about science homework, about how Steve had apparently rewatched Star Wars again the night before because he was physically incapable of not doing that at least once a week. For a few minutes it almost felt like everything was back to normal.

But the strange tension never really left.

It hovered there, uncomfortable, like a conversation waiting to happen.

Eventually you took a breath. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

You kept your eyes on the tapes in your hands. “Do you maybe want to go out sometime?”

Steve stopped moving.

You continued quickly, words tumbling out before your courage could disappear. “Like a date. Nothing big. We could just get milkshakes or something, or watch a movie that is not Star Wars for once, which I know is a big ask—”

Steve did not say anything.

The silence stretched.

Your stomach twisted.

Suddenly you were not sure why you thought this was a good idea. Or why you thought the signs had meant what you thought they meant. Maybe you had just imagined it all. Maybe you had read too much into the way he smiled at you, the way he always showed up when you needed him, the way he said your name in that soft manner.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Or not. I mean, that’s fine too, I just thought—”

“No.”

You looked up.

Steve’s eyes were fixed on the shelf in front of him.

“No?” you repeated quietly.

He swallowed. “We can’t.”

Your fingers tightened around the tape case in your hand. “Why?”

Steve finally looked at you then, and something in his expression made your chest drop. “It’s just. . . a bad idea,” he said. “Us dating.”

“Oh.”

The word felt small leaving your mouth.

Steve looked miserable. “We shouldn’t be more than friends.”

The embarrassment came all at once. You laughed a little under your breath, even though you could already feel your eyes starting to sting.

“Right,” you said quickly. “Of course. That makes sense. Totally makes sense.”

You cleared your throat, trying to blink away the stupid tears that were threatening to show up at the worst possible time.

Steve shifted awkwardly. “We can still be friends?”

Even he grimaced a little when he said it.

You forced a smile. “Actually, I think I’m going to need some space,” you admitted.

Steve took a step toward you immediately. “Hey—”

“No, it’s alright,” you said quickly, waving him off before he could say anything comforting that might make you cry for real. “I just feel a bit silly, that’s all.” You attempted another small smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll get back to normal and we can go back to being. . . friends.”

The word caught slightly in your throat.

You looked down at the tape still in your hands before setting it on the shelf. “I just. . . I need to go.”

And before he could stop you, before he could say anything else that might make it harder to leave, you turned and walked out of the back room.

You rushed past the counter.

Robin looked up instantly. “What did you two finally—”

She stopped mid-sentence when you hurried past her, wiping quickly at the tears on your cheeks.

Robin’s expression immediately shifted to concern and she slowly turned her head toward the backroom.

Steve was standing there just inside the doorway, his head in his hands and Robin sighed at the sight.

“Oh, Harrington, what did you do?”

By the time Nancy came over, you had already cried enough to make your head feel heavy and your eyes sore, but the second you saw her standing in your doorway with two tubs of ice cream and that calm look on her face, it all came rushing back again like you had just opened the floodgates.

Now you were sitting cross-legged on your bed with the blanket tangled around your legs, clutching a spoon like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality while Nancy sat across from you with the other tub of ice cream resting in her lap.

“I just feel so stupid,” you said for what had to be the twentieth time, your voice thick as you scooped another bite you barely tasted. “Like actually stupid. It's not even the cute kind of stupid where I can laugh about it later. It's just. . . painfully, humiliatingly stupid.”

Nancy took another spoonful of ice cream, watching you.

“I mean,” you continued miserably, waving your spoon around, “who does that? Who just assumes someone likes them back without actually asking first? Me. Apparently. Because clearly I just decided to invent an entire romance in my head like some delusional idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Nancy said.

“Yes, I am,” you sniffed immediately. “I asked him out. Out loud. With actual words. And he just said no.”

Nancy winced a little in sympathy but let you keep going.

“Like immediately. Just no. Like it was obvious that it was a terrible idea.”

Nancy leaned back against your headboard, passing you another napkin. “Boys are idiots.”

You nodded emphatically, your voice breaking. “Boys are idiots.”

You took another shaky breath and stared down into the melting ice cream. “But he was my idiot,” you said weakly.

That was apparently the breaking point because suddenly your face crumpled and you leaned sideways until your head dropped into Nancy’s lap, clutching the ice cream tub as you started crying again.

Nancy immediately set her spoon aside and started absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair in soothing motions.

“I just feel so embarrassed,” you groaned into her sweater. “Like what if he tells everyone? What if Dustin finds out? Oh my god, Dustin is absolutely going to find out. He’s going to tell Mike and then Lucas and then they’re all going to look at me like I’m some pathetic lovesick idiot who can’t take a hint.”

“He won’t tell them,” Nancy said.

“You don’t know that,” you mumbled miserably. “He might. He might accidentally say something to Robin and then she’ll accidentally say something to someone else and suddenly the entire town knows that I asked Steve Harrington out and he rejected me in the back room of Family Video next to the horror tapes.”

Nancy huffed a laugh despite herself. “It sounds excessive.”

“But it could happen,” you said.

You sniffed loudly and wiped at your face again before continuing.

“And the worst part is that I really thought he liked me,” you said, your voice softening into something more wounded now. “Like actually liked me. I mean he’s always there, you know? And he remembers things I say and he always sits close to me and he smiles at me like. . .” You trailed off, your throat tightening again. “Like I mattered.”

“You do matter,” Nancy said immediately.

“I know,” you said weakly. “But apparently not in the way I thought.”

Nancy sighed softly but kept smoothing your hair.

“And now I feel like every moment I thought meant something was probably just him being nice,” you continued miserably. “Like maybe he was just being friendly this whole time and I turned it into this huge thing in my head and now he probably thinks I’m insane,” you groaned.

Nancy paused. “You just asked him on a date.”

“And got rejected,” you muttered.

There was a quiet moment while you both abe more ice cream and then another thought hit you.

“And he lied to me,” you said suddenly, lifting your head slightly from Nancy’s lap.

Nancy looked down at you. “What?”

“He lied yesterday,” you said, frowning as the pieces rearranged themselves in your mind. “When I called him. He said Dustin called him with some code red emergency.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow.

“But I had literally been with Dustin earlier that day,” you continued, sitting up now, your frustration rising again. “He just forgot something at home and needed it for school. There was no emergency. Nothing was wrong.”

Nancy frowned thoughtfully.

“So he just made something up,” you said slowly, realization dawning in a way that made your chest hurt all over again. “Which means he probably didn’t actually want to stay. Which means he probably left my house on purpose.”

You swallowed hard.

“And I should’ve known,” you whispered miserably. “That should’ve been the sign.”

Nancy reached over and squeezed your hand.

“I mean think about it,” you said, your voice cracking again. “He left early, he lied about it, and then today he basically panicked the second I showed up. I just didn’t want to see it because I liked him too much.”

Nancy squeezed your hand again, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You know,” she said, “we could go out tomorrow. Just the two of us. Get dinner somewhere. Somewhere far away from Family Video and idiotic boys.”

You let out a weak laugh, even though your eyes were still wet. “That’s really sweet, Nance.”

Your voice wobbled halfway through the sentence and suddenly the tears were threatening again, welling up despite your best efforts to keep them contained. You sniffed hard and pressed the heel of your hand against your eyes, shaking your head like you could physically shove the embarrassment away.

“I just can’t believe I asked him out,” you muttered miserably. “I feel like I should move to another country. Or at least another state.”

Nancy opened her mouth to say something else, but the door to your room creaked open slowly before she could.

You immediately buried your face back into her lap as Nancy looked up toward the door. “Hey.”

Jane’s head slowly poked into the room, her expression curious and slightly concerned as she looked between the two of you. “I heard crying.”

You groaned quietly into Nancy’s sweater.

“Why is she crying?” Jane asked.

Nancy glanced down at you before answering, but you spoke first.

“Steve rejected me,” you said miserably, your voice muffled.

Jane blinked. “Oh.”

There was a small pause as she processed that.

Then she turned to Nancy with complete seriousness. “What does that mean?”

You lifted your head just enough to glare weakly toward the doorway, your eyes still red and puffy. “It means he dumped my ass but we weren’t even dating.”

Jane stepped further into the room, clearly trying to piece together the logic of that statement and not having much success after the 'dumped my ass' part which she had learnt from Max.

Nancy gave a small shrug and then patted your shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

You sniffed loudly.

Nancy turned back to Jane and lifted the ice cream tub slightly. “You want some ice cream?”

Jane’s face immediately brightened, and she opened her mouth to say yes but you suddenly peeked your head up from Nancy’s lap just enough to cut in. “She can’t,” you said hoarsely. “She’s having a cold.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at you instantly. “Buzzkill.”

Nancy blinked. “Did Dustin teach you that word?”

Jane smiled proudly and nodded.

You groaned and dropped your forehead back against Nancy’s leg. “He is a terrible influence on her.”

Nancy glanced between the two of you and smirked slightly. “I don’t know. They look cute.”

Jane’s smile widened at that.

You lifted your head again slowly, squinting at Nancy in disbelief through your tear-streaked face. “Oh my God.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “What?”

You stared at Jane like you had just noticed something deeply disturbing about the universe.

“Oh God,” you said weakly.

Nancy frowned. “What?”

You gestured vaguely between Jane and the doorway, your voice cracking again in fresh disbelief. “I just realized my little sister is in a relationship. And I’m not.”

Steve was not doing any better.

He was sitting at Dustin’s desk, elbows planted on either side of a half-finished science project involving wires, cardboard, and something that looked mildly capable of exploding if handled incorrectly.

Dustin had been talking for at least ten minutes straight about voltage and signal amplification and something about how if they adjusted the coil just right it could pick up radio chatter from three blocks over.

Steve had not heard a single word.

He was staring at the same screw on the table. Every few seconds he would pick it up, rotate it between his fingers, then put it back down again like his brain had temporarily lost the ability to perform any more complex function.

Dustin finally stopped mid-sentence and leaned back in his chair and squinted at Steve. “Okay,” he said slowly, dragging the word out. “You have not been listening to a thing I’ve said for the last ten minutes.”

Steve blinked like he had just returned from another dimension. “What?”

“Exactly,” Dustin said, throwing his hands in the air. “What is wrong with you?”

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. “Nothing.”

Dustin stared at him. “Steve.”

“I’m fine.”

Dustin stared harder.

“It’s Y/N,” Steve muttered.

Dustin immediately leaned forward. “Oh, what happened?”

Steve dropped his head back against the chair. “She asked me out.”

“Wait,” Dustin said slowly. “Wait, wait, wait. Y/N asked you out?”

“Yeah.”

“And you look like this because. . . ?”

Steve stared at him. “I said no.”

There was a long, stunned silence, then Dustin slapped both hands on the table. “You what?!”

Steve winced. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why would you say no?” Dustin demanded, his voice climbing an entire octave anyway. “That is literally the opposite of the correct answer!”

Steve rubbed his temples. “It’s complicated.”

“It is not complicated!” Dustin said incredulously. “She’s amazing, you like her, she likes you back, that is what we call a win!”

Steve shook his head, his expression tightening again as the memory of Hopper’s voice crept back into his head. “It’s not that simple.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Explain.”

Steve hesitated for a long moment before speaking again. “Hopper talked to me.”

Dustin made a face immediately. “Oh great. The chief himself.”

Steve let out a quiet breath. “He told me he doesn’t like me around her.”

“Well that’s obvious,” Dustin said. “He doesn’t like anyone around her.”

Steve shook his head again. “That’s not what he meant.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared down at the floor. “He said we’re too similar,” Steve said quietly. “That he knows what kind of guy I am because he’s the same kind of guy.”

Dustin frowned.

Steve shrugged weakly, but there was no humor in it.

“He said he wasn’t good enough for his daughter,” Steve continued. “And that if I’m anything like him, then I’m not good enough for her either. And the worst part is I kind of get what he meant,” he said. “I mean. . . look at me, man.”

Dustin frowned immediately.

Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together like he was trying to physically hold his thoughts in place before they ran off in ten different directions.

“I screw things up,” he said. “All the time. I mean, yeah, I try to help, I try to do the right thing now, but you remember how I used to be. Everyone remembers. Half the town probably still thinks I’m the same idiot who peaked in high school and can’t figure out what to do with the rest of his life.”

Dustin opened his mouth to protest, but Steve kept going. “And she’s. . . ” Steve exhaled. “She’s Y/N.”

He said your name like it meant something big, something impossible to explain in one sentence.

“She’s smart and brave and she actually knows where she’s going in life,” Steve said. “She walks into a room and people listen to her. She stands up to Hopper like it’s nothing. She makes everyone around her feel like things are going to be okay.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“And me?” he muttered. “I work at a video store and accidentally adopt children who get chased by monsters.”

Dustin blinked. “That sounds pretty heroic actually.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is she deserves someone who doesn’t. . . mess things up.”

Dustin leaned forward, staring at him, frustrated. “So your solution,” he said, “was to break her heart before you had the chance to?”

Steve winced. “I didn’t break her heart,” he muttered weakly.

Dustin stared at him in disbelief. “Steve.”

Steve groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Okay maybe a little.”

“A little?” Dustin said. “She literally asked you out and you rejected her.”

Steve peeked through his fingers. “I was trying to protect her.”

Dustin threw his arms up. “From what? Happiness?”

Steve rubbed his face again, looking completely exhausted now. “From me,” he said.

Dustin leaned forward again, squinting at Steve with the same expression he usually reserved for explaining extremely basic concepts to Lucas.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to explain something to you very slowly.”

Steve sighed. “Great.”

“You are being,” Dustin continued, pointing at him for emphasis, “an idiot.”

Steve didn’t even argue.

Dustin leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “When Hopper tried to intimidate me,” he said, “I shrugged him off.”

Steve blinked. “You what?”

Dustin nodded proudly. “Yeah. He did the whole ‘I’m a scary dad with a gun’ thing and I just kept dating Jane.”

Steve stared at him. “You’re insane.”

“And guess what happened?” Dustin said.

Steve sighed. “What?”

“He gave up,” Dustin said simply. “Because that’s what Hopper does. He acts scary and protective and eventually realizes he can’t control everything.”

Steve frowned.

Dustin leaned forward again, lowering his voice slightly. “Also, you realize Y/N isn’t Hopper, right?” he said. “She gets to decide who she likes. And she likes you,” he contined. “You like her. The only person ruining this situation right now is you.”

Steve slumped back in his chair.

For a moment he just stared at the ceiling, letting Dustin’s words bounce around in his head along with Hopper’s and your tearful voice and the look on your face when he’d said no.

“I think I really screwed this up,” he muttered.

Dustin nodded. “Oh, absolutely.”

Steve dropped his head back down. “Great.”

“But,” Dustin added quickly, leaning forward with a spark of determination in his eyes, “that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Steve looked at him warily.

Dustin grinned slowly. “We just need a plan.”

Steve frowned. “A plan?”

“Yeah,” Dustin said, already getting excited. “And I know just the someone who’s great at them.”

Steve should have been suspicious the moment Dustin said that sentence with that much confidence. There were only a handful of people Dustin trusted to solve complicated situations, and somehow every single one of them was either a genius, terrifying, or both.

Which was how Steve found himself half an hour later sitting stiffly on the Sinclair family couch while Erica Sinclair leaned back like a queen being forced to listen to the complaints of particularly stupid peasants.

The moment Steve finished explaining the situation, Erica slowly dragged a hand down her face and sighed the way someone did when their patience had been tested far beyond reasonable limits.

“Oh my God,” she said flatly. “You’re an idiot, you absolute dingbat.”

Steve turned toward Dustin who gave him a small nod that clearly translated to see, I told you.

Steve looked back at Erica. “That was unnecessarily aggressive.”

Erica crossed her arms and stared at him. “No,” she said. “Unnecessarily aggressive would be me throwing you out of my house for wasting oxygen with that story. What I said was a fact.”

Steve sank a little deeper into the couch.

Erica leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “The girl likes you. You like the girl. And when she asked you out, you said no because some grumpy middle-aged man scared you with his feelings.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I had other reasons.”

Erica leaned forward slightly. “Were those reasons stupid?”

Steve hesitated.

Dustin answered immediately. “Yes.”

“You made her cry?” she asked.

Steve winced. “Probably.”

Erica clicked her tongue in disappointment. “That’s bad.”

Steve blinked. “Bad?”

“Well yeah,” she said. “I actually like her.”

Steve and Dustin both looked at her.

Erica shrugged like it was obvious. “She’s cool. She brings snacks. And she doesn’t treat me like a child.”

“That’s because you are a child,” Steve muttered.

Erica pointed at him without even looking. “See? That attitude right there is why she deserves better.”

Steve slumped further into the couch.

“But,” Erica continued thoughtfully, tapping her finger against the armrest, “she also clearly has terrible taste in men.”

Dustin coughed to hide a laugh.

“So,” Erica said, straightening up slightly, “I will help you.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “What’s the plan?”

Erica leaned forward with a slow smile that immediately made Steve nervous. “The problem,” she began, “is that right now she thinks she imagined everything. She thinks you never actually liked her.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“So the solution,” Erica continued, “is not some big dramatic speech where you try to explain your feelings like a sad puppy because you will mess that up. So what you need,” she said, “is proof.”

Dustin leaned forward eagerly. “Proof?”

Erica nodded. “You’re going to show her that you pay attention to her.”

Steve frowned. “I already do that.”

“Good,” Erica said. “Then this won’t be hard.”

She began counting on her fingers.

“You’re going to bring things she’s mentioned liking before. Specific things. Maybe some flowers or something.”

Steve blinked. “You know a lot about this.”

Erica shrugged. “I read.”

Dustin coughed under his breath. “Nerd.”

“You’re going to apologize,” Erica continued, ignoring him. “And then you tell her the truth.”

Steve hesitated slightly.

Erica narrowed her eyes. “All of it.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah.”

“And if she still wants space,” Erica added, “you respect that.”

Dustin frowned slightly. “That doesn’t sound like a winning-her-back plan.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “That’s because the goal isn’t to trick her into dating him,” she said. “The goal is to prove he’s not the complete idiot he pretended to be.”

Steve looked at her for a moment. “. . . You really think that’ll work?”

Erica shrugged. “If she likes you as much as you claim,” she said, “then yes.”

Steve nodded, hope and nervousness mixing together in his chest in a way that made his stomach flip.

Dustin grinned. “See?” he said. “I told you she’d have a plan.”

Erica stood up and stretched slightly. “Well, that will be a month of free video tapes.”

It had been raining for hours by the time the tapping started at your window.

You almost ignored it at first, buried face-down in your pillow with the lights off, the room dim except for the occasional flash of lightning slipping through the curtains.

You had told yourself you were not crying anymore. Technically that was true. You had stopped. Mostly. But the dull ache sitting behind your ribs had not gone anywhere, and every time you thought about Steve’s miserable expression in that back room, your chest tightened all over again.

The tapping came again.

You frowned into the pillow, lifting your head slightly. For a second your brain, still fuzzy with disappointment and lack of sleep, tried to convince you it was just the rain hitting the glass.

Then it tapped again.

You sat up.

When you pushed the curtain aside and opened the window, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Steve was halfway through climbing in and he was completely soaked.

Rain clung to his hair, dripping down the ends and onto his jacket, his shirt, the floor under the window. His sneakers made a soft wet sound when he stumbled inside, holding a slightly crushed bundle of flowers in one hand looking like they had barely survived the journey.

You stared at him and he stared back, breathing a little hard like he had run here. “Hi,” he said.

You blinked at him. “You climbed through my window.”

Steve nodded once, like that was a normal thing to do on a rainy night after rejecting someone earlier that day. “Yeah.”

“You’re soaking wet.”

“Also yes.”

You looked at the flowers. “Did you steal those?”

He glanced down at them like he had forgotten they existed. “Technically I paid for them.” He hesitated. “I think the cashier pitied me.”

You stared for another long second, trying very hard to make sense of the situation. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

Steve swallowed, suddenly looking much less confident than he had climbing through the window in the rain like some kind of very soggy romantic idiot. He ran a hand through his wet hair, immediately messing it up further. “I messed up,” he said.

You crossed your arms, still sitting on the edge of the bed. “You did.”

“I know.”

He stepped a little closer, careful like you might disappear if he moved too fast. The flowers were still clutched awkwardly in his hand, slightly bent but determinedly bright against the dim room.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot,” he admitted. “But it turns out that’s kind of unavoidable.”

You watched him, your heart already starting to beat faster in a way you did not want to acknowledge yet.

Steve looked down at the floor for a second before continuing. “Yesterday. . . your dad and I talked.”

Your brows pulled together slightly.

“And he said some stuff,” Steve went on. “Stuff that kind of stuck in my head. About how I’m not good enough for you. And the stupid part is. . .” He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “I already thought that.”

Something in your chest tightened.

Steve looked back up at you then, eyes honest and a little raw. “You’re amazing,” he said simply. “Like, ridiculously amazing. You’re brave and smart and kind and somehow still patient with people like me who forget basic things like how tapes work or how to act normal when someone pretty, someone just like you, walks into the room. You save the world and then go home and help your sister with lunch like it’s nothing. And you laugh at my dumb jokes like they’re actually funny.”

Your throat felt tight.

“And I’m just. . .” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. “This guy who spent most of high school being a jerk and now works at a video store.”

“You’re more than that,” you said.

Steve shook his head a little. “Maybe. But when you asked me out today, all I could hear in my head was Hopper saying you deserved someone better. And the worst part was I believed him.”

He stepped closer again, placing the flowers on your table like they were something fragile.

“I said no because I thought it was the right thing to do,” he continued. “Like if I stepped back first, maybe I wouldn’t screw things up for you later.”

Your voice came out softer than you meant it to. “Steve. . .”

“But then you left,” he said. “And you looked so hurt, and Robin spent the next hour telling me I was the dumbest human being alive, which, fair, but also I realized something.”

He took another small step toward you.

“I realized that trying to stay away from you hurts way worse than any mistake I could possibly make.”

Your heart stuttered.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously, water still dripping from the ends of his hair onto the floor. “I like you,” he said, voice almost shy now. “Like. . . really like you. In a way that makes me forget how sentences work and stare at you like an idiot whenever you walk into a room. In a way that makes every near-death monster situation a little less terrifying because at least you’re there too.”

You felt a small, disbelieving smile pulling at your mouth.

“And yeah,” Steve continued, glancing at you again. “Maybe I’m not the guy who deserves you. But if there’s even a tiny chance you’d still want me anyway. . . I’d really like to try to be that guy for you.”

For a moment you just looked at him standing there, soaked through, nervous, holding onto hope with the kind of stubborn sincerity that was so unmistakably Steve.

“You climbed through my window,” you said again.

Steve nodded. “Romantic, right?”

You shook your head a little, smiling now despite everything. “You rejected me six hours ago.”

“I know.”

“In the middle of Family Video.”

“I am deeply ashamed.”

“And now you’re telling your feelings in the rain.”

Steve hesitated, then cleared his throat slightly. “Actually I had a quote prepared.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He shifted awkwardly. “It’s from Star Wars.”

“Of course it is.”

Steve took a small breath, then said, very seriously, “You’re the Obi-Wan for me but in a less mentor and more girlfriend boyfriend way.”

You stared at him. “That’s not even—”

“I panicked,” Steve admitted quickly. “The other one was Han Solo.” He glanced up at you, a little sheepish before adding, “You know. . . the ‘I love you.’ ‘I know.’ thing.” He huffed a small laugh. “But that felt way too confident for someone currently dripping rainwater all over your floor.”

You tried very hard not to laugh.

Steve looked at you with a hopeful little shrug. “What I meant was. . . I can’t imagine a life where you’re not in it.”

Your heart softened so fast it almost hurt.

You stood up slowly from the bed and walked over to him, stopping just close enough that you could see the nervous flicker in his eyes. “You’re an idiot,” you told him.

“Yeah,” Steve said immediately. “That checks out.”

“But you’re my idiot.”

His breath caught slightly.

You reached up and brushed a drop of rain from his cheek with your thumb. “And for the record,” you added, “I never asked you to be perfect. I just asked you to be you.”

Steve looked at you like you had just handed him the entire universe. “You still want that date?” he asked.

You pretended to think about it for a second. “Maybe,” you said.

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief.

You smiled and leaned forward, closing the distance between you and Steve froze for half a second before kissing you back, one hand lifting uncertainly to rest against your waist like he was still not entirely convinced this was actually happening.

When you finally pulled back, he was smiling in an amazed way he sometimes did after surviving something impossible.

“Wow,” Steve murmured.

SEASON ONE:

the vanishing of will byers the weirdo on maple street holly, jolly the body the flea and the acrobat the monster the bathtub the upside down

SEASON TWO:

madmax trick or treat, freak the pollywog will the wise dig dug the spy the lost sister the mind flayer the gate

SEASON THREE:

suzie, do you copy? the mall rats the case of the missing lifeguard the sauna test the flayed e pluribus unum the bite the battle of starcourt

SEASON FOUR:

the hellfire club vecna's curse the monster and the superhero dear billy the nina project the dive the massacre at hawkins lab papa the piggyback

SEASON FIVE:

n/a

He loved that about you. Seeing how much you cared for the kids did something to his heart that he couldn’t explain. He’s seen you become a sister to El– and by extension a sister-like figure to Max. The two girls adored you and in return, they had you wrapped around their fingers. The boys also had a hold on you, they somehow convinced you to join in on their latest D&D campaign. According to you, it was a mix of Lucas and Will’s puppy dog eyes that sold it. 

He wasn’t obsessed with you- at least according to him. There was just something about you that made his brain go fuzzy and his heart beat concerningly fast. But you were his best friend! It’s normal for best friends to feel like this, right? Except he didn’t have this problem with Robin, or Dustin. Weird, huh. As much as he tried to rationalize it in his head– deep down he knew the truth. Steve Harrington was achingly, deeply, soul-crushlingly in love with you. 

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted. “Do you like her?”

The sudden voice in the kitchen makes him jump. He whipped around to see El standing in front of him, just staring. “Jesus, kid, we need to put a bell on you or something.” Steve lets out a breath, his hand over his heart.

“Do you like her?” El questions again after he doesn’t respond. The way her eyes bored into his made him grow uneasy.

His eyes narrow. “Do I like who?” he questions. He knew exactly who the girl was talking about.

“y/n.” El said bluntly.

“Wha– of course I like her, she’s one of my best friends.” Steve chuckles, hoping the girl can’t see through his, quite obvious, lie.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well how else would you mean it, huh?” He knew exactly how she meant it.

She ignores his question. “You always stare at her. Like right now.” El looks past him, out the glass. Steve turns to look too because, well, he just can’t help it. Now you're lounging in one of the chairs by the pool, deep in conversation with Robin, laughing at something she said. Steve wished he could be outside to hear it– in his opinion, your laugh is one of the best sounds in the entire world. 

Steve turns back to the younger girl, scratching the back of his neck. There's no way around this. “You– uh- noticed that?” 

“We all do.” We all do. The statement echoes in his head. 

Steve can instantly feel the heat rising up his cheeks, ears turning bright red as well. He knows he stares at you a lot, but was he really so obvious that everyone else had noticed too? Have you noticed? Surely not. You would've said something about it by now, right? Right?!

As much as he's wanted to, He’s never talked to anyone about his feelings for you– not even Robin! He loves her, but she has a big mouth. He knew she’d end up running her mouth like always and blabbing his secret to everyone. Now, being confronted about it, he doesn’t know what to say to the girl standing before him. What can he say? You two are sisters for crying out loud!

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by El speaking up once again. “You always stare. You talk on the phone all the time. You let her keep movies way past the due date. You have to like her” She’s right. He does always stare. He does talk to you on the phone almost every night– El would know, you two live together. And, it's true, he never charges you any late fees on movies that are past due, much to the frustration of Keith. She continues, “You give her rides home. Your cheeks turn red around her. You let her put face masks on you when we have our girls nights–”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Steve interrupts her. “God, you are really perceptive.” he mumbles, trying to deflect. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

El shrugs. “She gets happy when you’re around. I like seeing her happy.” Steve swears he can feel his heart melt at the girl’s statement. 

“I like seeing her happy, too,” Steve replies before he can stop himself, and he swears he’s never seen a bigger smile on El's face than right now

“I knew it!” El laughs. As embarrassing as this conversation was, Steve liked seeing her be comfortable enough around him to actually be able to act like a kid for once. 

“Please don’t tell anyone. Even your dad– especially your dad!” Steve pleads with her. The girl just giggles more. “What’s so funny, kid?”

Instead of replying, she points her finger to something past his head. Steve turns, looking out the glass door and his eyes lock onto you right away. Only this time, you are already staring right back at him. Even from a distance, he can see how your eyes grow wide. Cute, he thinks to himself. As if you were just caught red handed, you quickly turn away and try to make conversation with Robin again. Only glancing back once to see Steve and El still looking at you.

———

SEASON ONE.

chapter one - the vanishing of will byers

summary: you bump into your irritating ex boyfriend and his clan of idiots, finds out will byers is missing, babysit dustin who ends up being the bane of your existence and find a little girl in the woods. overall, a casual day for you.

chapter two - the weirdo on maple street

summary: you watch your ex flirt with nancy wheeler, find out something very interesting about the little girl from the woods and have an uncomfortable dinner with the wheeler’s and the kids. your ex boyfriend calls you and you can’t help but have a conversation with him.

chapter three - holly, jolly

summary: you find out about steve and nancy having sex with ends in a blowout between you and him, but when your dad comes home with news on will none of that seems important.

chapter four - the body

summary: the kids have news on will, you bond with el, mike asks too many personal questions and you find out someone else has gone missing. you and steve have a heart to heart but it leaves you feeling even worse.

chapter five - the flea and the acrobat

summary: will’s funeral commences but the kids tell you he’s still alive, you just can’t get to him yet. you have a conversation with your old science teacher and dustin notices something’s wrong with the compasses. a fight breaks out between mike and lucas and you lose el. steve drops you home and is the kindest he’s been in months, your mom calls leaving you in despair.

chapter six - the monster

summary: you and the boys visit lucas, but he’s not up for joining you in the hunt for el. steve has some nasty things to say to jonathon and you’re not impressed. in better news, you find el safe and uninjured. now you just have to find will.

chapter seven - the bathtub

summary: lucas warns you about the ‘bad men’ and all of you meet up, el throws a van with her mind and the kids finally make up. your dad shows up saves you and all of you are finally reunited. el can find will in the bathtub so you head to the school and set up; giving her an option to leave. you find out will is alive and joyce and your dad take off to find him. nancy, you and jonathon have a plan of your own.

chapter eight - the upside down

summary: after setting up and waiting for the demogorgon, steve decides to turn up. after the fight, you head to the hospital and get to see will; but find out el didn’t make it. steve and you talk and you decide to think with your head rather than your heart.

IN BETWEEN.

the return

summary: hopper has a surprise for you hidden in his cabin and you’re thrilled with what it is. your life just got a whole lot more complicated.

movie blues

summary: you and steve bump into one another and try to be ‘friends’, you come to the conclusion that you’re not sure you can be his friend.

SEASON TWO.

chapter nine - mad max

summary: you meet the new kid, billy hargrove, avoid steve like your life depends on it and get invited to tina’s ‘halloween bash’.

chapter ten - trick or treat, freak

summary: you go tina’s ‘halloween bash’ and make some drunken mistakes, you and steve are back to not getting along and your dad for the first time ever acts soft after you’ve annoyed him.

chapter eleven - the pollywog

summary: you’re too hungover to deal with el and hopper’s arguing and gym class. you have an altercation with billy and learn just how awfully he takes rejection and then you bump into a very worried joyce byers.

chapter twelve - will the wise

summary: will’s having the worst time of his life, you stick around with joyce to take care of him. he draws what he’s seeing and your dad decides to take off on his own when he discovers what the drawings are; typical men.

chapter thirteen - dig dug

summary: will tells you some worrying news about your dad and you decide to go out and look for him on your own, but that ends up with you bumping into steve and dustin and being dragged into dustin’s problem.

chapter fourteen - the spy

summary: you, dustin and steve have to go out and look for dart and he decides to give dustin some relationship advice. you’re joined by max and lucas and steve decides to use himself as bait to catch dart; it doesn’t go to plan.

chapter fifteen - the mind flayer

summary: you, steve and the kids bump into nancy and jonathon and end up finding everyone else; including your alive dad. someone didn’t make it. back at the byers’ house, steve cleans up your wound and you have some realisations. the lot of you work out a way to communicate with will and there’s a special visitor.

chapter sixteen - the gate

In the meantime, everyone in the party was sticking around, yet a part of you knew this era would be short-lived. Jonathan was finishing his essay for NYU, Robin was waiting till the last possible minute to send her applications, and Nancy had been re-admitted to Emerson after deferring the year before. They’d be gone next year, and then the younger teens would follow them out. 

The battles were over, and everyone could finally move on. Find a new normal. 

But moving on was easier said than done. You had tried to confide in your father about losing another daughter. He was surprisingly accepting of her absence quicker than you were, “Jane… made a choice. I know that it is hard; it is so difficult to accept that she’s gone. But, kid, you gotta understand that this isn’t like when we lost Sarah… Sarah didn’t get a choice. Jane made a decision that neither of us will ever understand.”

Then there was Mike, equally lost in grief. Yet the grief you shared was starkly different. While you fought through the pain of not only losing one, but two sisters, Mike was battling the loss of his first love. The kid was a shell of himself, trying to find the answer to an unsolvable riddle or to rewrite an ending for them. Maybe if they had been able to get in contact with Dr. Owens again, he could’ve helped them hide from the government while living a normal life. As much as you both tried, neither of you could stomach the conversation. 

Will, Lucas, Dustin, and Max would come over to check on you and talk about the readjustment to high school life. They’d complain about homework load, other extracurriculars, or what some dumbass said in class that day. Everyone tried to be there for you, and they were. But grief is an ocean, the tides pushing and pulling regardless of time. 

Steve had seen the worst of it. The nights when neither of you got any sleep because he was consoling you amid endless sobs. He listened as you recounted stories about when your dad first brought you into the cabin to meet Jane. About how you had missed her when Joyce took Jane to California while you lived as an emancipated minor in Hawkins. How you wished you had more time to be a big sister, not just to Jane, but for Sarah…

He listened, he always listened. Because he couldn’t answer your questions. Steve was an only child, and though Dustin was practically his little brother, he knew he couldn’t equate the two. But he was determined to be with you through your grief. He made you easy meals when you couldn’t stomach the thought of food. He helped motivate you out of bed in the morning. He pushed you to find a new perspective on life, now that nothing could hold you down to Hawkins. 

— — —

A year had passed since Vecna’s demise. Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin were settled in the east, but regularly called to catch up. They’d all be visiting home for the holiday and swore to hang out like old times. 

Dustin had been accepted to Princeton and was on track to graduate as valedictorian. Lucas had accepted an athletic scholarship to IU, and Max was still waiting for her acceptance letter. Will had mentioned something about wanting to move to the city with Jonathan and maybe consider art school. Mike didn’t talk about college, though everyone knew his parents expected him to attend. 

You and Steve had even decided to move in together. Steve’s parents had sold their business to private equity and retired to Florida, but Mr. Harrington had left the deed to the Harringtons’ estate. He had been practically living and taking care of the house since his parents fled before quarantine was instituted in ‘86. His parents’ lack of interest in his life was something you both continued to bond over while you built your lives together. Both of you decided to live there until you could save up enough money to buy a house where you two could build happier memories than those on Maple Street. Your dad was suspicious at first. 

“I just don’t understand,” He sighed as he stood in the doorway of your old bedroom, dressed in that same police chief uniform from years ago, “You two have only been dating for eight months. It just feels too soon, kid.”

“Dad,” you looked at him as you taped up another box, “Steve and I were playing a long game of ‘will they, won’t they’ for years. He… he’s the only one who understands—”

You tried to gesture. The words were coming up short on your tongue. Words that you didn’t want to speak because they would remind you of your losses. Your eyes flicked around the bedroom you had once shared with Jane. This cabin held too much history of two sisters thrust together who desperately needed each other. Engrained in the wood were tales of girlhood, haunting memories of a childhood that both your sisters had been robbed of. 

Hop’s demeanor softened when he noted the tears rimming your eyes, “You’re not a kid anymore. You’ll always be my little girl, but you’ve outgrown this cabin. And I… I’m gonna miss my girls…”

The two of you moved to hug each other, silently mourning the Eggo waffle extravaganzas and Magnum PI reruns. If you listened closely enough, you could hear the echoes of laughter and records playing. 

A knock came from the doorway. Steve was perched there in a red Henley and jeans, his hair tamed beneath a backwards baseball cap. He gave you both an easy smile, “I hate to break up the moment, but we are running short on daylight.”

Both you and your father wiped away tears as you pulled apart.

“Harrington,” Hop nodded at him, “How’s your first year at Hawkins Middle going? Did Mr. Clarke finally recruit you to help him with the A.V. Club?”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “No, no. I had to be honest with him. Told him that my brain doesn’t work like his or Dustin’s when it comes to technological advancement. That, and I’m unfortunately caught up with these after-school practices.”

“The kids love Coach Steve,” You interjected with a proud smile. 

“They call you coach in the classroom, too? Or do you make them call you Mr. Harrington?” Hop asked. 

“No, Mr. Harrington was my father, and he was all business,” Steve explained, “So I’m Mr. H in the classroom. And Ms. H makes sure our athletes are well taken care of as our newest school nurse.”

You grinned at how Steve subtly gushed about your most recent accomplishment. Hop, however, suspiciously eyed the two of you, “Mr. and Ms. H?”

“Ms. Hopper is too formal,” You shrugged, quickly moving to grab the last box. 

You pressed a quick kiss to your dad’s cheek before exiting the room. You expected Steve to follow behind you shortly. 

Once you were out of earshot, Hop met Steve with an intense look, “Mr. and Ms. H? When should I expect Mr. and Mrs. H?”

Steve’s eyes quickly flicked in the direction of his truck before meeting your father’s stern gaze once more. He let out a heavy sigh and stood up straight, “I bought a ring a month ago. But… I don’t know when to ask. We’re happy right now. Y’know, she has her good days and her bad days. But it’s great to have her at the school. She’s always been good at… taking care of the little guys. I just—”

He halted and ran his hand over his face, “It’s not a question of if. Just when. I don’t want her to feel like I’m forcing her to move on from this too quickly.”

Hopper took in the information, the gears in his head turning. He understood why Steve was cautious; hell, he even respected him for being so thoughtful. But he also wanted to make sure that he knew you wouldn’t be alone when your old man was gone.

— — — 

With eighteen months since the bridge closed, a chapter was quickly closing again as the kids… the teens and soon-to-be adults, would be graduating. Dustin had been over to have dinner with you and Steve the night before. He talked endlessly of how excited he was to go to New Jersey, and how he could take the train up to visit Will in New York. He also complimented the camper parked in the driveway, a recent purchase Steve had made with summer break looming at the school.

A day later, everyone had come together to celebrate the Class of 1989. After the ceremony and Dustin’s exciting address to his fellow graduates, your parties split up with the promise of hanging out again before anyone left town post-graduation celebrations. 

Steve and you had joined your old friends on the rooftop of the Squawk. Nancy and Robin nursed their red solo cups while Jonathan recounted the plot of the script he was working on. 

“So an anticapitalist, cannibalism indie film? Byers, the Hollywood elite will hate you.” You chuckled as you snagged yourself and Steve another beer from the cooler. 

“What’s rent like in New York?” Steve quickly followed up. 

“Why? You two thinking of finally moving?” Nancy asked him with a knowing smile. 

“Yeah, you could move in with me while you get a taste for city life,” Jonathan shrugged and finished the remainder of his drink. 

You shook your head as you perched next to Steve, “No… no. We’re gonna stick around here just for a little while longer.”

Steve beamed at you, glad that you were choosing to be present in the moment, “Yeah. We’re saving up to get our own place. Maple Street just isn’t for us. There’s a nice plot of land available out on Forest Park that we’ve almost got enough for. Market’s not too bad right now.”

And like the ceremony from earlier in the day, your group couldn’t help but feel that pang of nostalgia. The wave of feeling that comes from speaking with old friends who have seen what you were and the potential for who you could become. It was bittersweet to go into Family Video, Melvald’s, and the Hawk without seeing your teenage selves. 

“Let’s promise to meet up once a month,” Robin suggested. The group knew that once a month would be difficult. Between traveling to Hawkins or the east coast or Robin’s uncle's house and finding the time amidst baseball practices or work or college, it was a hopeful dream shared between friends with shared trauma. 

— — — 

Two months later, at the Harrington-Hopper residence. It had been twenty months since your family had been separated. 

Your dad and Joyce were visiting Maple Street tonight. Steve thought it was important to have your dad over for dinner at least once a month. Will had just moved out to the city with Jonathan, and you each felt the lack of his presence at the dinner table that night. But there was still so much good to be had. 

Joyce now sported a quaint engagement ring, ready to finally get her happily ever after with your father. You were terribly happy for both of them. Steve recalled the events of your drive, and so-called vacation, to take Dustin to college orientation. Yet among all the joy, you noticed that your father had been uncharacteristically quiet. 

The conversation hit a lull, and you immediately called him out, “There’s something you want to tell us?”

Hop’s eyes flicked between you, Steve, and Joyce. When she nodded at him, he released a heavy sigh and set down his fork. 

“Joyce and I have decided to move to Montauk,” Your dad came straight out with it, knowing better than to avoid the truth. “I’ve accepted a position as Chief of Police, and we’ll be closer to Jonathan and Will. Which means you’ll be able to see them when you visit—”

“You’re leaving me?” Your words sliced through the air. 

The room went silent, neither Steve nor Joyce wanting to insert themselves into the exchange.

Your dad’s shoulders sagged, the words stinging his heart, “I-I’m not leaving you, but we want to leave Hawkins finally.”

“Right, so you’re just abandoning me,” You quickly got to your feet. Steve gently tried to grasp your hand in consolation, but you pushed it away. 

“Kid, please,” Hop grit his teeth, attempting to remain unemotional, “We need a new start. I need a new start. There’s nothing left for me in Hawkins—”

“Except for me!” You snapped. Suddenly, you felt like you were seventeen again and fighting with your old man while Jane was out with Mike. 

“No, I told you that I made plans to go see the re-release of Jaws with Steve that weekend,” You stomped into the bedroom in frustration, “I can’t just babysit Jane and Mike all the time. It’s my summer vacation too.”

Hop rolled his eyes as he stood in the doorway, “Yeah, and I told you to get a summer job, but you couldn’t even do that. The least you could do to earn your keep around here is to make sure your sister doesn’t get into any funny business with Wheeler.”

“My keep?” You scoffed at his turn of phrase, emotions hitting a high, “I’m your daughter too. Or did you forget that? And if you’ve forgotten about me, then maybe you forgot about Sarah?”

“Okay, I’m sorry, but that’s enough, kid,” He held his hands up in defense. 

“No, you never listen to me,” You spat as tears threatened to spill, “I lost my sister. You moved us back here, bummed around as you drank and smoked yourself out, and then you get a case that makes you feel like a big city cop again. And now I’m stuck playing mother to a lab experiment—”

“Jane is your sister—”

“Sarah is my sister. Jane is my sister. And you are their father,” A sob raked your body, “But you’re my dad too, y’know!”

Your dad froze in place, realization dawning on him. He looked defeated as he shook his head. He placed a large hand on your shoulder, the look in his eyes saying more than words could, “I’m sorry. I… I’m so sorry.”

The evening ended when you stormed upstairs, the door to the master bedroom slamming. Steve packed a container of leftovers for Hop to take to work for lunch the next day. He bid your dad and Joyce a goodnight with a promise that it would be okay, you just needed time to adapt to the change. 

When Steve finally came upstairs, he found you curled into a ball at the foot of your shared bed. He stood at the doorway, calm and collected. You two had done this ritual plenty of times, showing up for each other when the nightmares got too real again. 

“Sweetheart, can I join you?” Steve gently asked. He always sought your permission, wanting to make sure you felt in control of the situation. 

The only response was the sound of your sobs. Until he caught the faint nod of your head. In a few short strides, Steve was next to you, hand ready for you to take when you were ready. It was another twenty minutes before you put your thoughts into words.

“Do you think he’d still leave if it were Mike and Jane here instead?” 

Your question pierced deeply, instantly understanding right where your mind was.

“You can’t do that to yourself, honey,” He tried to console you, “You know as well as I do that he didn’t make this decision lightly. He wouldn’t leave if he didn’t think you could stand on your own two feet.”

Your glassy eyes continued to wander the room, “If Jane were here, she’d be excited to see somewhere new. Despite the bullies, she really did love California. I think she just loved to see the world…”

Steve wrapped his arms around your shoulder, tugging you into his side. It was a small act to help ground you. 

“After Eddie’s funeral, I dropped Dustin off at home… But I couldn’t go back to my house. It was too quiet with my parents being gone for good,” He explained as he ran a soothing hand over your arm, “So I went to Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock… retraced my steps. I thought that if I could go back and relive that week through Dustin’s eyes, I would see what he saw in Eddie. Something that I thought I was lacking, and that’s why Dustin had started to pull away from me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” You wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, “Dustin would never want you to be Eddie. He’s only ever wanted his best friend, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “But we didn’t communicate with each other. I felt like a failure because I couldn’t be enough for Dustin, and then we both got angry. But I wasn’t angry at him. I was angry at myself because we should’ve planned better for the demobats. I could’ve biked faster, but I was too late. And so I wondered if this is how it would’ve been if the roles were reversed. Why was I, just some dumb jock who got mixed into this crap on accident, the one who had survived a demogorgon, the Mind Flayer, and Vecna?”

His words washed over you, bringing you a sense of understanding that you couldn’t put into words. You pressed a kiss to his temple before resting your forehead against his, “You’re here because I need you here. Those kids need you here. And we’ve got a  great party of friends who need you here.”

Steve grinned, your assurance mending something he needed to hear in his heart long ago, “And that’s why you’re still here, too.”

— — — 

New Year’s Eve, 1990. NYC. Two years after the gate closed. 

Steve and you had flown into Long Island to visit Joyce and Hopper for the holidays. Montauk was beautiful at Christmas, the perfect place to pop the question. You two were officially one step closer to being Mr. and Mrs. H. 

But now you both had taken the train into the city to meet up with Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin. Jonathan had managed to reserve a booth at an underground jazz club for the group to ring in the New Year together. The monthly meetups had failed by the second attempt to get to Philly. It was simply too difficult to travel, and the timing never seemed to work out. But your friends had discovered that every three months and some holidays were doable. 

Robin had just recounted running into Vickie while home visiting Hawkins, and that she may or may not have given Vickie her landline number. Jonathan was still enjoying NYU and working as a part-time production assistant for some hotshot indie filmmaker that he just raved about. Nancy mentioned earning a recent promotion to the full-time editing staff of her paper. 

But the most exciting news of the evening was the shiny ring on your finger. 

“Harrington, that is a rock,” Robin gawked at the size of the stone. “Is that why you two sold the Harrington estate?”

Both you and Steve laughed as you remained tucked against each other in the dim booth. Steve rolled his eyes, “No, we sold it because we finally decided to just buy some land and build our dream home. But we are living in Forrest Hills for the time being until we decide where we want to be.”

“You two are ditching Hawkins?” Nancy leaned in, her expression riddled with surprise. 

“We haven’t officially decided anything yet,” You quickly interjected, “But we want to keep our options open right now. But what’s most important to us is that you all know that you will always have a home to visit us in, even if it isn’t in Hawkins.”

“But why leave?” Robin followed up, “Not that I am not totally psyched about all these awesome things.”

Both you and Steve looked at each other. It was a question you both wrestled with. Why should we leave? Why should we stay? But there was opportunity everywhere, and you both knew that as long as you were together, you could settle anywhere and finally live out the Harrington dream. 

You nodded at him and looked at your friends with an answer, “We’re just weighing our options.”

That satiated them enough. With a toast to your friendship and to the New Year, you chuckled as the countdown to the New Year started. 

A deep part of you ached. You longed to share a moment like this with your sisters again. You wished Sarah could have met the ragtag group who had become your friends. You wished Jane could be here to see that you and Steve would be tying the knot. You wished they were here to see how happy your father was in Montauk. But deep down, you knew that they were with you through all of it. 

— — — 

August 1991. 

That summer, you and Steve were happily married. All of the party returned to Hawkins for the ceremony. Dustin had suggested a destination wedding, but both you and Steve agreed that it needed to be in Hawkins. You were both surrounded by friends and family. Steve’s folks had flown in from Florida, but most of his relatives remained standoffish. 

It was a simple wedding followed by a beautiful honeymoon in a beach cottage in Maine. Steve and you had spent two weeks exploring the coast and spending plenty of intimate time together before another school year started in September. 

You had just arrived home to find a stack of packages on your doorstep from the wedding registry. Steve sighed and shook his head, “Why don’t you grab the mail while I lug those inside?”

Easily agreeing to the proposal, you climbed out of the cab of his truck. You took a deep breath of the Hawkins air because you didn’t know how much longer you would have to savor it. Steve had found a plot of land in a nice neighborhood just outside of Chicago, yet you were still in the middle of figuring out which master’s program you would attend — Chicago or Boston. Your thoughts jumped between the two cities as you approached the mailbox. 

You plucked the stack of mail. It was a mix of bills, congratulatory letters, and weekly coupons; however, a smaller notecard caught your attention in the stack. While you examined the strange postcard, you wandered back into your temporary home. 

The postcard was a gorgeous photo of a fjord with a waterfall on either side of the strait. There was a cursive white lettering that read, “Greetings from Iceland!”

“Hey, babe,” You called out to Steve, “Do you know anyone from Iceland?”

“Iceland?” He repeated, surprise obvious in his tone, “Um, no… and my mom hates the cold, so it couldn’t be family?”

Finally, you flipped the card over to find it blank. Steve raised a brow. He noted the lack of ink beside the childish writing of their home address. He shrugged as he continued to bring your bags back inside, “Looks like one of the school kiddos, maybe? And they just forgot to write the rest of their note?”

You hummed in contemplation, not quite believing his story. With a sudden idea, you searched the junk drawers of your kitchen. It only took a moment to find the blacklight that you stored away years ago. As soon as you turned on the little light, the hidden message revealed itself to you. 

‘Sister, 

Congratulations — I know that you and Steve will be very happy together. 

I miss you. I miss all of you. But I am happy on the other side of this. 

With love, 

J.H’

You only lowered the note when a teardrop hit the edge of the postcard. With a quick hand, you wiped away the tear to preserve the ink. As the blacklight danced over the long forgotten curves and scratches that belong to someone so dear to you, the little girl inside of you finally got her peace, her closure. 

“Whoa, sweetheart,” Steve rounded the corner, instantly sensing the distress, “What’s wrong? You okay?”

Pocketing the light, you quickly tacked the postcard onto the fridge with some gaudy tourist magnet he bought. You smiled and quickly wiped your cheeks as you turned back to look at him. You nodded, reaching out to take his hands within your own, “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

Steve gave you a loving smile, noticing that your steps were suddenly lighter. In your eyes, he saw that part of you was now at peace. He didn’t press you for more information; he trusted that you would share whatever it was once you were ready. Instead, he enveloped you in a bear hug, “Alright. Night in. How about I order us a pizza while you pop in Back to the Future?”