#steve and reader

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl<3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

Tonight was particularly eerie. The cold air mass coupled with the slightly warmer water had thrown a thick gauzy shroud of fog over the town. 

Nestled on top of the bluffs the library provided a panoramic view of it all. It shared the land with elaborate homes of long dead river boat captains. Rumor had it that on stormy nights you could see the apparitions of their women pacing the Widow Walks, furtively waiting for a husband who would never come home. 

These spectral wives weren’t the only supernatural inhabitants of the town. The ruins of a Confederate prison and cemetery, century old family tragedies of the wealthy and a rich history of river men and women provided a plethora of fodder.

This time of year was big business. Halloween tours sold out months in advance. Death and it’s correspondent trappings brought tourists from all over the world. 

Built in the 1890’s the library supposedly had its own share of ghosts. Several of your co- workers claimed to have seen floating spirits on the 3rd floor. A few of them refused to work after darkness fell which was just fine with you. You loved having the limestone building to yourself.

You didn't believe in any ghosts or haunts. In the 5 years you had been the head librarian nothing unusual had happened. No books flying from the shelves, no floating revenants. For you the library was a place of solace and comfort. The stacks felt like home.

Tonight was no different. The 3rd floor was your favorite. It was where the oldest books were kept, the newspapers on microfiche, records of the town’s history. This floor had been left out of the recent renovations. It still smelled of dust and days gone by. 

You rarely had to tidy up. No one except for gray haired ladies searching for their ancestors or the occasionally student ventured here. But you climbed the three flights of stairs anyway. It was a habit you had no desire to break. 

As you took the last steps your breath caught in your throat. Books were thrown willy nilly, pages strewn like confetti. The further you went the worse the destruction was. Drops of crimson stained the walls, carpet and floor. 

Why would someone do this. You didn't remember hearing any noise that would have accompanied this. It had to be kids. Halloween pranks were common but never here. You sighed. This would take hours to clean up. Your fiance would not be happy. The two of you had dinner reservations at 8pm. Steve was old fashioned, traditional, and full of expectations for you. Some of his rules were a bit archaic but he was a good man. 

You made your way to the maintenance closet intent on gathering cleaning supplies. As you got closer to the door the paint on the floor became elongated smears. An arc of red flared along the wall. 

Something primal in your gut set off warning bells. Of its’ own accord your hand reached out and turned the knob. Slumped next to the bright yellow mop bucket was the body of a young girl, her throat slit almost to the point of decapitation. Whirling to run your eyes fell on the plaster wall. Rusty crimson words were scrawled across it. Without thinking you spoke the Latin.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The demon stretched her arms. How long had it been. She took a moment before standing to familiarize herself with her new form. Taking possession was always a bit chaotic. Each body had its own way of movement, its mannerisms. Muscle memory had to be overcome to truly take ownership. 

A quick glance proved she was alone. No overzealous hunter, no gaggle of black clad teens, no sad, lonely souls so desperate for love that they would willingly sell their precious souls to her, Lilith, the first demon. 

A window reflected her appearance. It was hard to tell much with the knee length skirt and bulky sweater but the face was pretty enough. She could work with this. 

Turning away her vision was caught by the spell. No wonder no one was here, save for the rapidly cooling corpse. Lilith hadn’t seen this particular incantation since the 13th century when her devotees would release her into a sacrificial host. A night of wanton sex and murder would follow, the women using her as a weapon against those men who had done them harm. But the mortals had always held the power. They sent her back to Hell after her purpose was served.

There was no one to do so now. 

Flicking through her host’s mind the demon bark laughter. This dumb bitch had summoned her by accident. The poor woman hadn’t even had the joy of participating in the ritual. 

“Darling? I’ve been waiting in the car for ten minutes. We’ve talked about this.”

An exaggerated huff floated up the open staircase. 

Lilith smiled.

“I’m up here Steve. I could use some help please.”

His heavy footfalls were filled with displeasure. 

“Our reservations are at 8. Your complete lack of time management is unacceptable.”

Steve hesitated at the last step, the disarray laid out before him.

“What the hell happened here.”

He moved further into the room. 

“Oh Baby. I’m so sorry I’m running late,” Lilith purred.

She strutted towards him, bottom lip pursed out. 

Not used to such brazen behavior from his fiancee, and with a small ounce of fear, Steve backed up, stopping only when his legs hit a table. He fell into a half reclined position. 

With deliberate ease Lilith slowly shimmied out of the skirt, pulling her panties with it. The heavy sweater was next to be discarded, followed by her bra. She grasped Steve’s knees, pushed his legs apart, sandwiching herself between them.

“Let me make it up to you Sweetheart.”

Her hands found his belt buckle. With expert skill she freed his cock, already hard in her hand.

“This is highly,” Steve’s voice hitched, “inappropriate behavior. You need to stop right now.”

“Oh but it doesn't feel like you want me to stop.”

Lilith guided him to her cunt, her fingers overlapping his. 

“Look what you do to me. I’m all wet.”

She circled her clit with Steve’s thumb under hers. Lilith shoved first one then two of Steve's fingers in her tight hole, following with one of hers. 

Arching her back the demon tweaked her nipples in to tight buds. Her lustful moans floated in the air. 

“That’s it Stevie. Be a good boy and make me cum.”

Nerve endings in her clit came alive, spreading through her belly. 

Her hips rocked in time with their intertwined fingers, forcing them deeper. Lilith increased the pressure on Steve’s hand, swiping her clit. 

She reached up and pulled his head to her chest. 

“Use your mouth on my tits sweetheart.”

Steve hesitated for a moment then his mouth closed around her nipples, flicking and sucking. 

The added stimulation set her on fire. Lilith’s head fell back. Her orgasm careened through her, a scream of satisfaction erupting from her lips. 

Lilith dropped to her knees. She coated Steve’s cock with her own release. Her tongue swirled the head, stopping to lick and nibble the long shaft.  

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

She ignored him. Instead Lilith opened her mouth wide and swallowed his cock. Her head bobbed back and forth, taking him deep. 

“Oh God, this is wrong, you, don’t stop.”

Hollowing her mouth the demon doubled her efforts. Saliva flowed down her chin. 

Steve took hold of her head, slamming his cock into her mouth. 

Lilith growled and pulled away.

“I am not submissive to you mortal. I lead here.”

She opened her mouth again and set a lightning pace. Within minutes Steve was throbbing. His shaft shook with the force of the orgasm, cum streaming down her throat. 

With demonic strength Lilith threw Steve to the floor. Her hand pumped his cock, using her magic to get him hard.

Lilith impaled herself on his cock, bracing her hands behind her. She rolled her hips leisurely taking him to the hilt. 

Steve glared at her with a mixture of rage and euphoria.

“You said you were a virgin.”

“I was,” she panted, “just not when I met you.”

Lilith’s hand sought her clit.

“Stupid stupid boy. Did you really think your girl was pure and innocent. I’ve seen the memories. She was a dirty little slut before she moved here.  You would never have been able to satisfy her.”

Finding the sensitive nub Lilith stroked it with two fingers. Around and around she rubbed, the friction of Steve’s cock and her fingers sending her over the edge. Her screech of ecstasy shattered the windows. Tendrils of fog swept in.

Savagely she rode Steve, still playing with her clit. It was raw, screaming from over stimulation. Lifting his hips Steve came, his cum jetting inside her pussy. She followed him, clamping her hips to his pelvis.

Gradually their breathing returned to normal. The smell of sex mixed with that of old books. 

Steve cleared his throat. 

“Uh we’ve missed our reservations but we could still make a late dinner if you're hungry.”

“I’m starving.”

Lilith’s hand punched through his rib-cage, yanking out his heart. Blood sprayed across her face and chest. 

As Steve’s eyes glazed she took a bite of the still beating organ.  

Chapter 002 recap

"Doing it for Max," you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn't your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

Chapter 003

♡

“Hi I’m Hell, it’s nice to meet ya.”

“FUCK! Oh my god — fuck!”

Steve Harrington is definitely not a loser.

An assortment of mewls and profanities fill the hot air of Steve’s bedroom as he fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, the frame of his bed rattling to the speed of his deep, punishing thrusts.

It’s 7 AM.

Though you’re typically not an early riser, you’re more inclined to be if you were promised this type of treatment every day.

“Fuck!” you squeal again, knuckles sheet-white from how tightly you’re holding onto Steve’s linens. “Right there, Steve…”

Steve’s grip, meanwhile, rests at either side of your hips as he pistons himself further into your sopping, spongy heat. Too cock-drunk to even form a coherent sentence, you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head while you take his unforgiving length from behind.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” he coos. “You like how deep I feel inside of you?”

You nod. “Yes… yes…I-I love it.”

“Looks like I’m fucking you back to sleep again, aren’t I?”

“M—mhm,” you manage to purr, reaching for one of Steve’s hands to grab a hold of.

In fact you’re already seeing stars. Sex with Steve is an extravagant experience. Now that he’s comfortable in your presence, Steve spent all night performing for you, abusing your soaking cunt to the tempo of every song on his playlist, catering to your every need in the form of profound and agile strokes, exploring every inch of your body with his firm and knowledgable tongue, all while refusing to stop until you yourself were finished.

You chant his name aimlessly as he plows into you further, tucking a pillow above your head to protect you from any sharp wooden corners. Another thing Steve prioritizes as well? Your safety. All night it’s been your pleasure first before his own. Now you know why everyone in town calls him the King. 

“That’s it…” Steve praises you as you fall apart in front of him. He smacks you firmly across the ass. You whimper at the sensation, chasing your third orgasm of the hour by fucking him back, tossing your hips back onto him, not caring the slightest if it made you look desperate. You need his cock so bad. “That’s a good girl.”

CRASH!

Something falls from the bathroom at the end of the hall. A shampoo bottle maybe? It stuns you for a second, causing you to immediately reach for the top sheet to cover up your body. You listen for traces of his roommate’s presence.

“Uh…”

“Earthquake?” Steve jokes.

“Nope,” you smugly shake your head. “It’s just you.”

You rise from all fours to turn around and give Steve a quick kiss. Steve chuckles against your skin.

“Me? It’s a team effort, lady.”

“You’re right, it’s us.”

Steve wraps his arms around your waist and guides you back down onto the bed. Laying on your back now, you watch him as he spreads your legs apart. He smiles down at you as he lines himself up at your opening.

An impatient sigh escapes your mouth. He swoops down to silence you, planting a soft kiss onto your neck.

“Steve…” you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. “You’ll get it, just you wait.”

He continues to tease you, gliding his cock along the lining of your entrance. You bite your lip and shake your head, watching him as he glides, thrusting his tip in slowly before taking it back out once more. Then he slaps his cock against your puffy, glistening folds. Your whimpers grow louder.

“Are—” you lower your voice. “Are you sure we’re the only ones here?”

“Yeah,” Steve insists, mumbling against your ear. “The roomie’s with his sneaky link. We’re fine.”

“Birds of a feather,” you retort.

Steve flashes you a flirtatious glare. “I’d never keep you a secret.”

“Lies.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges you.

What did he mean by that?

A gasp escapes your mouth before it’s even registered. Steve is inside once again, pounding into you with a pace so exhilarating, the room around you starts to blur. The little time you had to prepare leaves you both with a healthy amount of friction and resistance. You’re nearly screaming now as pressure builds between your hips and in your stomach, your pleas for more growing louder and louder with every pummeling thrust.

“If you call that keeping a secret, you’re pretty bad at it,” Steve kindly retorts, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, beads of sweat dripping down his pomade-sculpted hair onto your breasts.

“Oh m-my fucking god,” you squeal breathlessly. You’re silenced by Steve’s fingers as they assert themselves into your mouth.

“Oh my fucking god is right, babydoll.”

He issues a delicate slap across your face. You bite your lip, gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes. Snarky King Steve is your favorite Steve.

“Keep going, Steve. Don’t fucking stop.”

Before you know it, he’s bending you like a pretzel, your legs at his shoulders, knees to the tip of your earlobes. Steve slams himself into you, excruciatingly fast and balls deep, all while his hand explores your mouth, then jaw, then find a home around your throat. Another delicate slap brushes across your face with his other hand, followed by a “Yeah, baby take it”, causing you to mewl even louder.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other begin to sound more wet with every thrust, the moans you two exude bounce off the walls as you fuck into each other. You feel your walls tighten at the same time his head starts to twitch.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” Steve huffs. “Do I feel that fucking good? Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“Yes,” you attempt to say. “I’m such a messy girl, Steve.”

“That you are,” he swoons, swooping down to plant kisses all over your face. “Messy. Dirty. Naughty. And all mine.”

Four more aggressive pumps into you and you’re both done for.

“Oh my god…”

“Fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Ohhh fuck.”

Giggles take the place of moans as you and Steve collapse onto one another. You two lay there in disbelief, then share another laugh followed by a high five.

“Good game,” Steve jests.

“Rematch later?” you wink.

Although Steve doesn’t answer, you know it’s a yes. As you roll over to drift off into a small recovery nap you feel another slap land on your ass, followed by the sound of the trusty rubber rolling off your partner’s cock.

“So fucking beautiful.”

——

9 AM

After care is essential for Steve. Lover boy loves to cuddle. He’s there when you wake up, arms snaked around you, with gleaming eyes and a rather itchy peach fuzz that you didn’t stumble upon until he was giving raspberries to your neck.

“You lasted longer this time,” you comment teasingly. You issue him a delicate boop on the nose.

“Yeah, cuz we’ve been doing it all night,” Steve tsks. “You caught me off guard the first time around, Hargrove.”

You pout. “Aww. Was I kicking you when you were already down?”

Steve pulls you to his chest, giving you a squeeze the further you lean into him. “You absolutely were, you devil woman.” He kisses your forehead and beams down at you with a smile.

“Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

So you two rinse up together, and Steve lets you borrow one of his t-shirts to parade around his luxury townhouse in. He did offer you some basketball shorts he had lying around on his couch, but you decide that hopefully, in just his shirt and your new lace black panties, it would entice him for round five.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. It’s Max.

Hey where r u?

You bite your fingernails as you contemplate a believable answer. Where could you possibly be if your supposed shift ended two hours ago?

Post shift mimosas with coworkers. Be back around noon.

You wait. Buzz.

As you should 🤪

You smile before exiting out of your conversation with Max. It vanishes quickly when you remember there’s still a text you haven’t responded to.

What the actual fuck.

It’s been a week now since Billy sent that text. And with him being the type to spam, it’s strange that he hasn’t called or texted again. Especially since it had been Max’s birthday.

You shudder, overwhelmed with a sense of panic yet again. In hopes of postponing reality to the next day, you plant your phone face down onto Steve’s bedside table. It all made you feel stupid. Like an infant who believed they were hiding just by closing their eyes.

You walk out into the hallway and find Steve in the kitchen, frantically trying to find you something to eat.

“We need to go shopping again,” Steve announces. “So the only choices right now are eggs, sausage, toast, cereal..and the Cuties over there.”

You make your way over to grab a tangerine while you browse the cereal section. 

“Well, I had sausage this morning,” you joke. “And a cutie. So I’ll go with eggs and toast please.”

“Coming right up. Sunny side?”

“Scrambled.”

“Anything for you.”

You claim a seat at the messy kitchen island, decorated by mountains of bills and guy stuff galore. As Steve is cooking, you sit and admire the man who Hawkins calls the King.

Steve tries. It shows in everything he does. Behind every positive attribute about the man, looms a cautionary energy accompanied by a sense of guilt. It’s almost if “King Steve” refuses to take up space. Something, or someone, made him this way. Made him so guarded and delicate, yet so willing to give and help.

Before you know it, Steve hands you your Shy Girl-tailored breakfast, fluffy golden eggs with golden buttered toast to match, served with a glass of orange juice on the side. You thank him and he nods, tossing a dish rag over his shoulder and walking to the sink to clean up. With how sweet Steve is with you in bed and on a friendship level, the sole idea of him makes you wonder what he’d be like — years from now — as his one real dream: a husband, a dad…

The sound of a toilet flushing jolts you back into focus. Both you and Steve freeze in place.

“Shit,” Steve sighs.

Roomie is home.

Steve quickly wipes his hands and darts to his room, scurrying to find a shirt to mask the hickeys you left on his chest. Meanwhile you scramble to the couch to find the basketball shorts you passed him up on earlier. You didn’t want to give his roommate the wrong impression, though you kind of feel like you did, screaming like a banshee because you thought no one was home.

You’re tunnel-visioned as you scan the couch for shorts. Let’s see… TV remote, no — football, no — random backpack and baseball cap —

Wait. Is that a Hellfire shirt?

Your eyes widen. It can’t be. Steve wouldn’t withhold such vital information from you, would he? Maybe Steve really likes supporting Eddie’s business.

But then you think about it. You really think about it.

You think about Steve’s comment he made as he was leaving Hellfire. "Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home."

At home.

“The roomie won't be home…”

The use of “the roomie” instead of “my roomie”. Typically “the” is only used if someone knows of the person being mentioned. At least that’s how you yourself word things anyway.

“The roomie’s with his sneaky link.”

Eddie’s lady friend. Eddie only goes to see her during the most ungodly hours because she’s a bartender.

You feel so stupid. For more reasons than one.

Eventually you find Steve’s basketball shorts and throw them on, running back to the kitchen island where you then try to play cool. You turn back to the scattered envelopes laying around the island — all addressed to an Edward Munson.

In the words of your twin brother, what the actual fuck.

“WOOO — Harrington!” a familiar sing-song voice echoes from down the hall. “You definitely don’t wanna go in there!”

You recognize that voice from anywhere.

Whistling sounds from the end of the narrow hall. Coming out of the bathroom was none other than your boss, dressed down in a black muscle tank that revealed his avant-garde black and white tattoos, and royal blue gym shorts. His hair was up in a messy half-bun, the loose curls that were too short tie up are a cluster of anarchy around his face.

You make it into Eddie’s periphery, but he doesn’t do a double take until he realizes it’s you.

“Oh hey!” he greets you, somewhat expressionless. “You on tonight?”

As if seeing you in his apartment is the most casual thing ever. 

You’re completely swamped with humiliation. It’s bad enough that Eddie practically heard you scream bloody murder, but now he knows exactly what you’re like in bed. He knows how you like to be handled. How embarrassingly cock-drunk you get when your partner hits the right spot. How pornographic and raunchy you act when you’re with the right person.

You’re also dressed like Adam Sandler. So there’s that.

It takes everything in you not to grab your stuff and leave. But it is that same ick in your body that keeps you glued onto the bar stool of the island.

“Y-yeah,” you huff. “Sure, I’ll work.”

“Totally should…” Eddie sings again. “Midweek is always popping. Everyone always wants a lil sumn sumn on Friday Junior-Junior.”

You study Eddie as he strides over to the fridge, insipid and unbothered. Tired, if anything. 

Steve comes out of his room with his own Hellfire shirt on, trying his best to keep his cool as he clears his throat. “I, uh… I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

“That makes the three of us,” Eddie laughs dryly as he rummages through the fridge. “But here I am…”

You observe him as he hums along to a random tune, scanning the fridge for something quick and easy. He settles for what looks like coffee creamer, which brings you back to the time that Dustin said Eddie operates on coffee and an empty stomach. 

You try to focus on something else. Anything. Eyes-a-wandering, you catch sight of Steve’s old championship trophies from his high school swim meets, pictures of him and his boujee ass family at TopGolf, pictures of him with old friends at an actual golf course, glass cups from breweries all around Indiana and The States, and the expensive smart electronics that ornamented the place.

But not a single trace of Eddie and his life or family. The mystery of him sucks you in a little more.

Eddie stalks towards you, extending an arm across to pick up the bills waiting for him on the table. The world stops for a moment.

“Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologizes. “The maid took the night off.”

An inferno pools at your cheeks. Was the ‘mess’ remark a jab towards you? Your thighs clench when the flashbacks of morning sex with Steve replay in your head. “Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“You’re fine,” you manage to say.

Eddie proceeds to pour himself a drip coffee then douses it in an unreasonable amount of hazelnut creamer.

You cringe at the sight. Sometimes a crush is just a lack of information.

Steve attempts to speak to serve as a filler for awkward tension, but you beat him to it.

“S-”

"So," you press. "How are things with the lady friend?"

Eddie makes a sour face. "Called it off," he shrugs. "Well, she did."

Your ears slightly perk up.

You feign a tone of dismay. "Oh no! What happened?”

"Guess our lifestyles don't mesh well with one another,” Eddie rolls his eyes, as if he knew it was some sort of excuse. He draws on about the ordeal. “She doesn't like that I'm always at work. I can only see her in the early hours of the morning, and with the amount of paperwork I have to do, I’d honestly rather be spending my free time sleeping or playing video games."

"Well, you should stop working so much,” Steve suggests. “It could help balance shit out more.”

Eddie snaps his neck at Steve.

"You think I didn't think about that already?" he scowls through gritted teeth. "It’s like the moment Eddie's gone, everyone forgets how to do their jobs. I always gotta come in to make sure they’re all staying on task.”

He turns to you.

“Take Mike for instance,” he explains. “Fucking chickenwithhisheadcutoff. Lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

You laugh.

“He was the one who forgot to take inventory on the 10th and 11th,” Eddie pops a scoop full of Honey Combs into his mouth. “Yet he was asking me if he could bring his girlfriend to the club.”

“Ohh,” is all you can say.

“I don’t mind all that lovey dovey shit,” Eddie mutters between bites. “But if it’s gonna distract him from working, that’s where there’s a problem.”

“Totally reasonable dude,” you agree.

“Yeah, Mike gets really distracted when El’s around,” Steve pitches in.

Eddie nods. “Ed’s got his own set of rules for a reason. The Munson Doctrine is a byproduct of when all the things that can possibly go wrong, have gone wrong.”

You watch Eddie stroll towards the windows by the balcony and prop them open, an indicator that he’s about to smoke. He grabs a tiny bowl that he seemed to know was laying around and loads it up with bud. He lights up and takes several large hits.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for tonight?” Eddie questions eyes darting between you both.

You and Steve didn’t think that far.

“Not too sure yet,” Steve answers for you two. “I do know we gotta go shopping again.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie nods towards the cereal. “Tired of eating hamster food every morning.”

Eddie takes another hit, coughing away the excess like a madman.

“I’m hosting another BYOB night at Hellfire with the frens again,” Eddie continues once he calms down. “Been a minute. You should swing by.”

“Bring your own booze?” you ask.

“Getting warmer.” Eddie replies.

“Beer?”

“Cooler now.”

“Then what?”

“Bud,” Eddie replies raspily, nodding at his own amusement. “We’re still a red state, so we get our shit from Illinois. BYOB is specifically for the party. Edibles only, for obvious reasons. Still a fun time though.”

“Cross-faded on a random Tuesday, what’s more enticing than that?” Steve says. You’re not sure if he’s sarcastic or not.

“Exactly, Harrington!” Eddie hollers. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Is Nance gonna be there?”

Record scratch. Eddie looks at Steve like he asked a dumb question.

“She works there.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve glares at Ed.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Is Nancy gonna be at the table? No, probably not. You know her. Total opposite of Mike. When she’s at work, she’s at work.”

“Yeah...” Steve mutters with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll think about it. What else ya doing today before this?”

Eddie explains that after paperwork and grocery shopping, he plans to go over to Chrissy’s place to look at her car. It causes your heart to flutter. Business owner, manager, cook, music fanatic, and mechanic? Mr. Jack-of-All-Trades after your heart again.

Eddie shakes his head, evidently overwhelmed with all the responsibilities on his lap. “Hellfire would crash and burn without Cherry.”

“Wow, you do so much,” you comment, attempting to uplift him. He grins at your remark. You decide keep going. “Anything you can’t do?”

You feel Steve stare between you both, then clear his throat as he paces around the kitchen.

“Stop it,” Eddie chuckles, growing slightly flustered with his pink-tainted cheeks. “Kinda true though. I do everything and anything.”

“Yeah, especially for Chrissy Cunningham,” Steve jeers.

“That’s also true,” Eddie shrugs, attempting to conceal his now fully flustered face. “We done now?”

“We are actually,” Steve says. “Lucky for you, I gotta go get ready.”

Steve shoots you a wink and then excuses himself back to his room. Meanwhile, it’s just you and the other man you have a burning crush on.

Something shifts when Steve disappears. To shake off the unknown feeling that’s mingling in the air, you make your way over to the fridge. You hope that pretending to be busy excuses you from another conversation.

But before you know it, you feel Eddie’s stern — and marijuana-laced — breath on you just moments later. The torment is never ending.

The moment you turn, you’re met with Eddie’s big brown eyes. He speaks first.

“I was joking, you know.”

Whatever banter that was being exchanged earlier has now switched off. The pitch of Eddie’s voice has dropped a few frequencies, and that act alone captures your attention. Shooting your gaze towards him, your brow lifts.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to work tonight,” he elaborates shoving his hands into his pockets. “We’re well staffed. There’s a seat for you at the table… if you’d like to come with.”

“I’m your friend?”

“I thought it was clear.”

“You haven’t even taken me to lunch yet.”

“You haven’t given me the chance.”

Fair play, Munson. Eddie waits for you to talk. You study your superior as he studies you, his chocolate eyes slowly becoming eclipsed by the widening of his jet black pupils. Hunger was unknown feeling that was mingling. It’s burning in your stomach now. Its essence that lingered between you both is the only thing keeping you two from standing any closer.

“Cross faded on a Tuesday,” you repeat Steve’s sentiment. “Sounds like a Friday ordeal.”

“Well when you work as much as I do, you try to make every day feel like Friday.”

Oh this man is stressed stressed. Something in Eddie’s hopeful stare convinces you that a simple “yes” would make him a little happier about tonight. But you don’t want to seem too into it.

“I’ll think about it,” you tease.

“Ah, come on…” Eddie tuts. “Steve will be there.”

You blush.

“And your ol’ boss,” Eddie ominously adds, propping his shoulder against the fridge as he leans. “If that counts for anything.”

Another loose strand of hair from his bun falls across his face. He shakes it away with a cinematic nod. You feel stupid for falling for your Eddie’s natural charisma. He does it with everybody, you remind yourself. It’s what makes him a good business man. You aren’t anything special.

“Will there be wings?” you decide to deal the inside joke you share.

“Flats only,” Eddie insists, feeding into it.

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Always is, sweetheart,” Eddie grins. “Can’t wait for you to experience it.”

Before he too excuses himself, Eddie hugs you, doing the verbal kiss on the side of your cheek once more before letting go. It never fails to leave you in a puddle.

No rizz, my ass Dustin, you think to yourself.

“See you there then, gorgeous?”

“You sure will.”

And just as quickly as Eddie disappears, Steve returns, sporting a basic grey Patagonia tee and khaki colored Dickies. His sunglasses dangle from the center collar of his shirt, his green and yellow “Camp Know Where” dad hat clipped onto the same belt loop that housed the keys to his BMW.

He meets you halfway by the island, giving you a soft kiss once more.

“I’ll let you hold onto that shirt,” he says. “It looks good on you.”

“Why thank you,” you reply. “Smells just like you too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck just as he does your waist before they explore the birthmark region of your lower back. Your breath hitches.

“I should probably stop,” Steve bites his lip. “I gotta walk you to your car.”

“I know, maybe next time,” you frown. “Also, you didn’t tell me Eddie’s your roommate.”

Steve’s face falters slightly. “I… didn’t think it’d matter.”

He’s right. Ultimately it didn’t matter. If you didn’t shut up, you’d tell right on yourself.

“I know!” you end up saying way too enthusiastically. “It’s just that he, uh, heard everything.”

Steve dismisses it. “Let him,” he says. “I’m sure he hears and sees it all at the club anyways.”

Steve bites the bullet and gives your ass cheeks a tight squeeze. “Besides, he can watch if he’d like. We’ll give him a little show…”

Your breathing scatters again, to which you give Steve a playful nudge.

“You’re unbelievable.That’s where your dirty little mind goes?”

“What can I say?” King Steve smirks, forehead pressed against yours now. “I’m a voyeur.”

“Clearly,” you wink.

Birds of a feather. As much as you didn’t want it to, your mind wanders back to Eddie and how he is most likely a voyeur too. Why else would Hellfire be an asset of his?

The entire commute home is spent fantasizing about both Steve and Eddie. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing and what to do in this situation. Would this even be considered a triangle considering how casual everything appears to be?

With everything unknown there is one thing is for sure: tonight, both of them are getting some kind of show from you.

—————————————————

‘Friday Junior Junior’ is relatively staffed.

Mike and Dustin flicker across the room, darting back and forth to bus tables as soon as customers leave. Skating on the thin ice he’s on, Mike works quickly and efficiently, while Dustin takes his sweet time, attempting to multitask while talking to Suzie, one AirPod in at all times.

“Yeah, babe, I’m in Kas’ Korner,” Dustin lies. “Doing some food packing.”

You watch him as he wipes the table quickly after spraying some cleaning solution onto it, eyes glued to the job in front of him instead of center stage. He does sneak a quick glance at Chrissy, though. Then looks around to see if anyone noticed. You do, but you pretend not to. It’s funny. 

“I’ve seen her get richer in the pole, I’ve seen her. I knew she had to know.”

You're sat between Steve and Eddie at the VIP table, watching Chrissy alongside everyone else. Joining you three are Argyle and Henry, who both were miraculously able to find themselves coverage. Jim is bouncer for tonight, while Lucas has the kitchen covered after months of begging Eddie and Argyle to let him cook.

Looking over at Steve, you see him beaming up at Chrissy and decide to join him in showering her with his — many — dollar bills. Argyle joins in too, to your concern since he promised the group he'd buy everyone drinks when you guys all go bar-hopping later.

"Chrissy is amazing," you sigh, shaking your head in pure admiration for the starlet dancing in front of you.

"Isn't she?" Eddie responds. He delves into his pocket to pull out his phone. "All the ladies here are pure and absolute fuego."

Drawing your attention to his device, Eddie opens an album in his camera roll titled, "Hellfire Girls". He starts showing you short clips of the dancers, one by one, explaining what they're doing and how in awe he is of them.

“I notice that the girls like wearing pasties for tops that tend to have spaghetti straps or very little fabric coverage,” he says. “Or for when they don't feel like showing their tits. Saves you too when The Girls decide to pop out when you’re upside down. Always the fucking left one too."

You giggle at his remark.

The eloquence and respect Eddie has about the female body and wardrobe mechanics has you enticed. It's evident how much Eddie respects women and values their comfort. But he is also a man, and it's no secret that someone like him enjoys watching. And Eddie is never shy to admit when he likes what he sees.

He shows you another video of another dancer, Emmy.

“Emmy’s a fucking beast,” Eddie gushes. “She can do a split right from her side straddle. Kassidy’s the same, but the Pegasus is more of her strength. Lady’s got arms and core for days. It’s fucking hot."

He swipes again.

"And Justice knows how to do a Dragon's Tail, it’s a crowd favorite.”

Eddie's already had a few drinks tonight, so the filter he already seemed to lack is practically non-existent now. Steve is on the same boat, downing his third cocktail and not giving a damn how much he blows tonight on the dancers. You all the while, are one dangerous cocktail in and are already horny out of your mind. It doesn't help that Jonathan has a heavy pour, and that every drink he makes tastes like juice.

"Cheers to that," you smirk, raising your glass to clink with Eddie's.

“I’ve seen her take down that tequila. Down by the liter. I knew I had to meet her.”

"Maketh way everyone," Henry announces, asserting himself back into the VIP section after leaving not too long ago. “Bottle service a-la-Henry."

You turn to Hellfire’s bouncer, who ditched the casual attire tonight for a more classy black formal suit and a matching Rolex watch. His sandy blonde hair is extra sleeked up and away from his face. According to Henry, he never usually dresses up unless there's a special occasion. You suppose BYOB night is one of those events.

Henry acknowledges the cocktail in your hand before nodding towards the bottle of Don Julio that he’s holding.

"Tell me, Shy Girl," Henry starts. "You up to ditch that for something a bit more challenging?"

Eddie fires a curious look towards the interaction.

You eye the Don Julio that was luring you in, and ultimately decide to take Henry up on it. Flashing him a sinister smile, you instruct him, “Hit me.”

Henry slowly starts towards you, tilting your chin upwards once he pops the cap open. With your consent he starts to pour the tequila down into your mouth.

Fuck being responsible tonight.

An array of "WOOO"s and "OHHH"s fill the air around the VIP section as everyone cheers, shocked that you’re able to chug all of that without it burning. Little did they know, Don Julio tastes just like home. Well, south of the border from home.

After holding down your own fort for way too long, you've decided that someone else needs to be handed that baton for tonight. Since you didn't tell Henry to stop, you're still chugging what he was pouring into your mouth. You know it’s risky, especially since you had two edible gummies several minutes ago as well.

“Oh my god,” Eddie gawks as you settle for a final gulp.

“Shy Girl’s not so shy,” Steve comments, absent-mindedly, arms wrapped around your waist as he keeps you propped upwards. "Good job, baby. That's how you do it."

“That’s it, Hargrove," Henry smirks. "Swallow all that for me?”

You peer up at him and hold your eye contact as you swallow, making sure Henry knows that there's no more alcohol left in your mouth. Everyone knows you championed that shit. When you’re done, he wipes the remnants of tequila off your bottom lip.

"This one's dangerous, Eds," he comments, completely shocked by what he just witnessed.

"Don't I know it," Eddie breathes. "Not really living up to the Shy Girl name, are we Hargrove?"

You feel Steve's grip around your waist tighten. Assuming he was being possessive over you, you turn to offer him your undivided attention. Instead, you end up looking over at a clearly intoxicated Steve, leaning onto you for gait support as he smothers you with affectionate kisses all over your shoulders, ear, and neck.

"Shy Girl," Steve mumbles. "Shy Girl Hargove... Not-So-Shy-Shy-Girl."

You turn back to Eddie, meeting those carnivorous eyes once again. He's breathing heavily against you now, that this time he's not even hiding it.

"Yeah well the Shy Girl thing is all an act," you quip at Eddie flirtaciously. "Looks like there's still a lot for you to learn about me."

Eddie rolls his tongue around in his cheek as he eyes you up and down. He presses his palm gently onto your knee that rested closer to him and rubs it. "Can I crash your class then? Professor?"

Before you can respond, Chrissy bounces her way on over, ecstatic over the amount of tips she made.

"Wh- are you guys all drinking without me?" she exclaims when she approaches the table.

You turn to see her pouting ever so playfully, but then smiling when Argyle hands her a shot of the Don Julio. She too downs it like it's water.

"WOOO!" Chrissy cheers, raising the empty shot glass into the air. "To Hellfire Club!"

"To Hellfire Club!" everyone follows.

Everyone resumes taking shots and celebrating once again, this time with Chrissy joining the party. You watch Eddie as he feeds her an edible, another one allegedly, upon her request. He rests a delicate hand on her cheek, watching her chew, then grazes her cheek when she swallows the gummy, eyes glued on him the entire time.

“Good girl,” he mouths.

Chrissy flashes a playful, flirty grin before excusing herself from the table to go and give patrons a dance. She is stopped midway by a familiar, friendly face.

"Aht, aht," the friendly face stops her. "Not so fast, missy. I have some stuff for you."

"Oh, that's right!" Chrissy giggles. "Thanks, Nance."

To Steve's utter shock, House Mom Nancy makes her way to the VIP table. You feel him tense beside you, attempting to sit up straight and pretend that he's sober. You and Steve take in Nancy's effortless beauty, the way her straight brown hair was neatly kept in a bun, black square neck cocktail dress with transparent black tights underneath fitting her body like a glove, with nails that were always cleaned, polished, and painted a neutral color. Nancy is always so effortlessly pretty, but tonight she looked extra good.

“Here are your extra pasties, love,” Nancy reports while handing Chrissy her boob tape. “And also some spare bobby pins.”

“Thank you!” Chrissy chimes.

Nancy proceeds to take Chrissy's tips, tucking them neatly into a pouch that has a cherry design on it. As she finishes up with Chrissy, Nancy's eyes travel over to meet Steve’s. 

“Hello, Steve,” she attempts.

“Hey, Nance,” Steve says, eyes filled with sorrow.

Nancy’s eyes fall onto you. The air seems awkward now, most likely because Nancy read the room and figured out that you and Steve are probably sleeping together. You can’t hide your thoughts. Your face speaks for you, and judging by the way you struggle to make eye contact with your house mom, she knows now that you know of her and Steve's history.

“Hey you!” Nancy cheers, trying to mask the tension.

“Hey Nance!” you join in. “How are you tonight?”

“Good,” she smiles. “Not working tonight?”

“No, just here to support Chrissy,” you smile back.

“Awesome!”

If Argyle and Henry didn't know you two are hooking up, they sure as hell knew now. They exchange a lightning quick glance at once another and do their best not to do anything that could potentially worsen the situation. Not that it was bad. It was just painfully awkward.

It’s silent for a bit before Nancy clears her throat. “Okay then, I’ll see you guys later.”

All of you bid goodbye to Nancy and try to carry on with the rest of the night. The boys have no issue going back to what they were doing. Meanwhile, you look over at Steve who has gone pale and looks like he is about to throw up.

You rest a hand on top of his. Steve flinches before turning to look at you.

“Are you okay?” you question him.

He sighs and nods. “I will be.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you remind him. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

"You're right," Steve frowns. He grabs your hand to kiss it. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

"Of course," you insist.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to freshen up," he says before ruffling your hair. "I'll be right back."

Your eyes trail after Steve to ensure his safety as he saunters over to the bathroom. When he makes it safe, you turn your attention back to the boys who are, of course, talking about sex.

"Alright you guys," Argyle speaks up. "Let's talk about it. Do you guys have a daddy kink?"

You're intrigued. You gaze travels over to Henry and Eddie who are trying to contain their excitement on the topic. They're trying to act like this is not something they wanted to talk about, but judging by how tightly they're holding onto their drinks and fixing the way they were sitting a little bit too often, they are more than giddy about this topic. Or anything sex-related.

"No not really," Henry shrugs. "But master kink, yeah. I like to be called master and all that stuff."

"Ooh, you're one of those freaky ass fools," Argyle says. "I see, I see. Eddie what about you?"

"Do we really have to talk about this?" Eddie chuckles.

"We sure do, you little freak," Argyle nudges him.

Eddie laughs to himself, staring down at the bottle of beer he's currently drinking. Slowly, he starts to nod, causing your heart to do sommersaults. This night keeps on getting better.

"Yeah..." Eddie answers. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"What's the reason behind your daddy kink?"

"Just think it's hot," Eddie shrugs. "I like taking care of the girl while she unravels right under me. Think it's also a power thing. I like taking over."

"You a choker?"

"Dude, am I?" Eddie exclaims. "Fuuuck yeah! I'm like the fucking waiter at Olive Garden with the grated cheese. Tell me when to stop."

The boys burst out in laughter. Eddie continues with an explanation.

"Cuz I'll keep going."

You are too cross-faded for this right now. Your environment starts to get hot, and you can't tell if it's because of the alcohol or the information Eddie was dumping on everyone causing your cheeks to flush.

"And you know what they say," Henry adds. "Everything is about sex, but sex is about power."

"Power, women, same thing," Eddie says. "Fucking love it."

His eyes fixate on you.

"What about you Shy Girl?" Eddie questions you, his voice deepening. "What are you into?"

Chrissy's screams could not have come at a better time. The whole club nearly pans their attention to her when as shrieks.

“You fucking dickhead!”

Startled, Eddie shoots up. “What? What the fuck happened?”

“I turn around to straddle him and his dick was out.”

You look over to where Chrissy is.

Absolutely fuming, Eddie turns to Henry.

“Creel..."

"Oh I am so glad I am not on the clock," Henry fumes. "I'm gonna fuck him up so bad."

You watch as Henry removes the black blazer he has on along with his watch and shoes before darting towards Chrissy and her perverted patron. You are about to witness what you have been warned about.

"Put that back in your fucking pants dude, what the hell are you doing?" you hear him demand.

"I was just-"

"Quiet. I don't wanna hear it."

"She was talking me up all nice. Not my fault this bitch can't put out."

You turn to Eddie and swear that his eyes have gone black. Yet he refrains from going there himself. He knows well enough that he can't get involved as a manager. There would be a lot at stake if he did.

After arguing back and forth with the customer, Henry digresses when he realizes he's talking to an arrogant brick wall. That's when the unthinkable happens. You watch as the customer practically flies out of his seat, at his mercy now that he is in Henry's unbelievably tight grip. He tries to fight it, swatting at Henry's hand, attempting to kick him in the groin. Henry seems amused. As if that poor customer has a chance.

You almost hear a SNAP.

"Oooh," you hear the crowd hiss painfully.

The customer wails helplessly on the floor as Henry continues to have his way with him. Chrissy, extremely overwhelmed, dashes to the bathroom as she puts her cloak back on, trying to hide the fact that her face is now completely red and full of tears.

Your eyes pan back over to the customer who is now sprawled out onto the floor. Henry abandons him after hissing a cruel, "Get your shit together then get the fuck out" at him and spitting onto him.

He excuses himself to go get Jim to drag him out. You're way too stunned to say anything to him, eyes glued on the customer whose limbs are now bent to a perfect 90 degree angle, neck seemingly displaced, shoulders misaligned with every other part of his body. There's a pool of blood and sweat on the floor. Or maybe that's piss.

"These assholes need to be mindful of how they treat women," Henry snaps when he returns. "Cuz one of these days, they're gonna find the One."

It's difficult for chaos to phase you now, especially since physical confrontations like this used to occur every day at home. But nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of getting fucked up by Henry.

“Jesus,” you heave. “I didn’t know the human body could bend like that.”

“Naturally it can’t,” Henry corrects you.

“Evident by the bones snapping all willy-nilly,” Argyle adds.

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that, thanks,” you reply.

Eddie sneaks up behind you.

“Told you it was grody,” he says.

Steve emerges from the bathroom, slightly less pale, but still heavily intoxicated. He looks over at the customer, eyes wide.

"Jesus." You can tell he already knows what happened. Steve also seems to know who took care of that person. "I always tell myself I'l get used to it, but damn."

You go over to embrace him. He embraces you back, kissing you across the forehead with his liquor heavy breath. Although you wanted to be with him for the rest of the night, you knew he had to go home. When Steve glances elsewhere, you confiscate his car keys. Eddie guides Steve back to his seat at the VIP table, giving him small words of encouragement as they go.

"That's it, easy there, Big Guy. Almost there. You good?"

You stride over to POTIONS where Dustin just so happens to be now. Judging by how close he and Steve are, you trust him to take him home.

"Dustin," you begin.

"Yes, m'lady," he answers.

"You mind staying with Steve for me?" you request. "I'm gonna be with Chrissy for a bit, but I think he might be ready to go home. I'm not sober so I can't take his car."

"Oh no," Dustin peers over at Steve. "Let me guess, he saw Nancy?"

"Yup," you confirm handing Steve’s keys to Dustin. “They said two whole words to each other."

"That's two more than they usually do," Dustin mutters, accepting the keys from you. “But yeah, I got you. I'll be right there."

You let the men be men, re-enacting Henry’s bone-snapping marathon with the customer. Ditching them, you make your way to the bathroom, where you saw Chrissy run to, to check on her. The sound of sniffling in the stall furthest at the back is the first thing you hear.

“Chrissy?” you call out. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

A gag followed by some a mass that sounds like vomit shooting into the toilet contradicts that statement completely. Chrissy continues to throw up profusely as you make your way over, crawling under the stall to get to your new friend.

Chrissy is hugging the toilet now, clinging onto it for dear life as if it were going to run away from her.

"Room's spinning," she justifies.

“Yeah, you are most definitely not fine," you sigh. You pat her back to console her. "Are you just overwhelmed by everything? How many milligrams did you take?”

“How many are in three?”

“Jesus Christ!" you shout. "Chrissy!"

“They weren’t doing shit,” Chrissy pouted. “I felt like I needed something strong…” she’s interrupted by her own gagging once more. “Stronger. The edibles just weren't kicking in…”

“So we wait, love!” you exclaim. “We wait for them to kick in. We don’t take it upon ourselves, especially if one gummy is 20 milligrams.”

“Waiting around is for chumps.”

The room falls silent as Chrissy proceeds to self soothe, spitting remnants of her emesis into the toilet and focusing on her breathing. You decide to speak up again.

“How do you feel after what just happened?”

“I don’t,” she answers. “Eventually, you just grow numb to it. It’s part of the profession.”

“Harassment shouldn't be part of the profession."

"But it is."

"It shouldn't! Surely we can get Henry and Jim to do more training so this doesn't happen. We can take self defense classes?"

Chrissy sits up. She turns to face you, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh my baby,” she pouts. “My dear Baby Stripper. You’ve got some shit to experience before you truly know that none of this shit is preventable." She looks off into the distance. "You’re very brave for wanting to do this. I always used to tell girls who want to get into the industry to run as fast as they can."

You're no stranger to harassment and abuse, but you couldn't imagine what strippers go through on a daily basis. Unwanted gestures, having genitals exposed to them that they did not intend on seeing, stalking, retaliation, violence, kidnapping attempts. And these poor men and women who are just trying to make a living have to just accept it.

"There's so much I don't know about the industry," you admit to her. "And to a certain degree I am still naive about it all."

"That's why I'm so protective of you."

"I'll be fine, Chrissy," you reassure her. "I'm more worried about you. You're such a cute little cinnamon roll, I'm the protective one."

"You're so sweet," she says. "You have to promise me that you're gonna say something if anyone tries shit with you."

"Of course," you nod. You start to get scared. Chrissy is saying all this as if it was bound to happen tomorrow.

"And that if anyone at all seems like a threat, you let Jim, Henry, or Eddie know right away," Chrissy continues. "And Jonathan is in on it too. Just ask him for an angel shot and he'll know exactly what to do."

"Mhm," you nod again. "Yeah, you got it."

The extents women have to go through to keep safe...You shudder in fear. It's only temporary, you remind yourself. It's only temporary.

It's not too long after the incident that everyone, the party included, decides to disperse. Argyle volunteers to take Chrissy home and they leave in his van. Henry stays behind and talks with Jim, explaining to him what exactly went down with that one customer. Meanwhile, Steve is sitting at the VIP table, nearly passed out, but Eddie and Dustin work together to get him to his feet.

“Alright,” Dustin announces. “I’m taking Steve home before he starts simping over Nancy again.”

"Shut up, dude," Steve mumble, using nearly all his body weight to lean on Dustin.

You walk over to give Steve one last embrace, leaving a delicate kiss on his cheek as he drunkenly sways back and forth in your grip.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile.

“Goodnight beautiful,” Steve says. “I’ll text you when I’m home safe.”

“Please,” you encourage him. “And drink water.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles hazily. “You drink water.”

After they leave, you return to the VIP table to order yourself an Uber. You're still intoxicated, but it's simmered to a buzz now. Before you can even navigate to the app, some tight jeans and combat boots make their way towards you, keys to a certain van out back jingling around his fingers.

“Ready, Shy Girl?” Eddie asks you.

“Huh? For what?”

“I’m taking you home.”

_____________

author’s note: thank you so much for all your kind words regarding this fic thus far!! 🥹 and thank you for being so patient as i had a family emergency this week so posting was delayed! didn’t wanna rush posting either because i care about the quality of my work and you guys deserve the best!! i added a bunch of y’all to the tag list and am so excited to have you guys along for the ride. revising/editing ch 4 as we speak :)

———————————-

The rowboat was bobbing in the middle of Lovers Lake with the five of you inside, but it rocks even more when you stand.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Steve asks.

"The gate should be down there, right?" you say. "We have only one way to know for sure."

"You're jumping... in there?" Eddie asks, staring into the black water.

"I'll go," Steve urges.

"You snooze, you lose, Harrington," you say, peering over the corner, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Damn, (Y/N) has guts," Robin says with an impressed scoff.

"(Y/N), seriously," Steve mumbles.

"I'll be fine, Steve," you say. "Hate to brag, but I have great lung capacity." You give him a proud smile before plunging into the cold lake.

As you pump your arms through one breast stroke after another, deeper and deeper into the still water, you think about how you got here in the first place.

It all started with a part-time job at the arcade. One lunch break, you decided to kill time in the video rental store next door. You figured it was better than sitting in the arcade’s depressing break room.

Standing in the Sci Fi section, your eyes travelled over the spines of the VHS tapes. You noticed movement near you and looked up to catch a handsome man's eyes. The next second, you noticed his uniformed vest and name-tag.

"Looking for any recommendations?" he asked.

Normally, you would've said you were just browsing, but the guy was too sweet to turn away.

"Sure," you answered.

"Anything in particular you look for in a sci fi flick?" he asks, raising an arm to rest on the top shelf.

"Hmm, lots of action," you say.

"Adrenaline junkie?" he asks.

"You could say that," you answer.

"Well," Steve says, lips pursed. "You might like...” His eyes landed on a tape. “Somewhere In Time. Maybe. I don't know. To be honest, I'm trying to look like I'm good at my job in front of my boss."

You laughed, amused by this rambling stranger whose nametag you could now read: Steve. Sure enough, way at the front counter, a long-haired man stared daggers into the employee’s back.

"So, Steve,” you said. “I should look like I'm getting a lot of valuable information from you.” You began nodding and looking at Steve seriously, knowing you were being watched.

"Thank you," he said with a relieved smile.

"I get it," you said. "I got one of those types of managers next door."

"Oh, you work at the arcade?" Steve asked. 

“Yes,” you joked. You had put a cardigan over the itchy t-shirt you were forced to wear, put pointed to the small fraction of words on the shirt. “And I swear, time actually stops there.” Steve half-smirked.

“I thought it’d be fun to work over there.”

“I hear pinball machines in my sleep,” you said seriously, making Steve smirk again. “So, to make you look good, I should probably rent something out, huh?”

“I’ll owe you one,” Steve replied.

After that, you visited the video store way more often than you needed to, befriending both Steve and Robin and enjoying the laughs and customer horror stories you’d shared with them. They’d visit you, too, trying their hand at some of the arcade games and actually getting pretty good at them.

When you noticed some of the kids you saw at the arcade visiting the video store speaking with Steve and Robin with low tones and serious expressions, your curiosity got the best of you. And suddenly, you were immersed in the stories of the Upside Down - unbelievable, scary, but incredible stories.

Funny enough, as you dive deeper into the lake, Steve is thinking back to the first time you met, too.

"That's it, I'm going in," he says, staring at the water and shaking his head.

"Cool it, Romeo," Robin says. "It's been like ten seconds. Have some faith in her." Steve rolls his eyes at his friend’s incessant teasing about his crush on you.

"It's the monsters I don't have faith in, Robin," Steve complains.

Meanwhile, you had reached the bottom of the lake and encountered the red, otherworldly entrance to the dimension you’d heard so much about. If you weren’t underwater, you’d have gasped.

After swimming your way back up, your hands find the rim of the boat and you take in a big gulp of air. Steve is not much of a religious person, but when he sees you alive and well, he silently thanks God.

“So, there’s definitely a portal down there,” you breathe out, gazing between Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy, their faces lit up by the moon. The cold air presses up against your wet skin.

“Glad we settled that,” Steve says. “Get back in.”

“Yes, sir,” you chuckle. But when you set to lunge forward, instead, you feel a tight pressure around your leg. You let out a shriek before it pulls you down, filling your lungs with water. 

Fear boils deep into your bones as you watch the surface get farther away, gasping for air but only gulping in water.

Once air reaches you again, it's thick and smoggy. You lie on your front on the hard, rocky ground, gasping to breathe. Heart pounding, you look up to see red skies and disjointed rocks.

Is this the Upside Down?

You find the strength to get on your knees, still gasping and feeling the sting of water in your nose and throat.

High-pitched shrieking startles you as horrifying bat-like creatures lunge right for you. Burning pain rips through your shoulder when you realize one the creatures has dug its teeth into your skin.

You scream out, grabbing for it and pulling it off, the pain gruesome and nearly debilitating. You stomp on it, missing a few times, but successfully knocking it out.

When you were pulled down, Steve didn't hesitate. He dove headfirst in the water, fully clothed, knowingly and urgently swimming down into the dangerous world you had been pulled into.

You hear your name being shouted and you frantically look around, finally landing on Steve.

"Duck!" he screams, and you obey, narrowly missing another demon bat.

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie appear shortly after, the group of you swinging and strangling and stomping the bats. In the tussle, you feel fangs dig into your leg above your ankle, and you choke out a sob, continuing to fight for your life.

Finally, the last bat lets out a spine-chilling groan, lifeless on the ground.

Heaving, you all walk towards each other to form a haphazard circle, your ankle and shoulder burning.

"You alright?" Steve asks, primarily looking at you.

"Never better," you breathe, wincing. The shrieks of demobats return and to your horror, a hoard of them appear in the sky nearby.

"Over there!" Nancy points. You all follow her lead, running into the dark woods. Unfortunately, your newfound injury makes you limp far behind, and when Steve notices how far back you are, he turns towards you.

He runs your way and scoops you up, cradling you in his arms. You brace his sweater for stability, cotton bunching up under your fingers. Steve pants as he runs and you look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazes ahead.

The five of you find shelter in the murky forest full of tangled, disjointed branches. Steve slowly lowers you, strong hands still on your waist as you find your footing.

You feel faint, but don't want to show it and cause panic. Sure enough, though, you can't hide it from Steve.

"Is it bad?" he asks, breath hot on your neck.

"It's not good," you admit.

"Is it your leg?" Robin asks. Steve rounds you, giving you a chance to put all your weight on your feet. The burning in your ankle is still vicious, and you're still a bit drowsy, but it doesn't hurt as bad to stand.

"I guess one of those things got me," you mumble, looking up from your foot to your shoulder. "Twice."

"You shouldn't have jumped in the water," Steve mumbles. You roll your eyes, but he doesn't notice as he’s too busy pulling his yellow sweater off of his shoulders, revealing his torso.

"If I didn't jump, you would've," you answer. "So what difference does it make?" He gazes at the blood on your shoulder, the ash over your face, and it pains him to his core to see you so wounded.

Steve steps closer to you, looking down at his sweater as he rips it.

"I'd rather be the one cut up like this than you," Steve says at a volume only loud enough for you to hear.

"What kind of survival instinct is that, Harrington?" you tease. You look up at Robin to share an amused look, but she's only looking at you two empathetically.

"We'll catch up," Steve calls back to the other three over the sound of fabric ripping in his hands. "Just don't walk too fast."

Robin only shrugs in agreement and slowly makes her way in the forest with Nancy and Eddie.

Screeching and howling in the distance fills your ears as Steve takes one half of the sweater in his hands, the other tucked under his elbow.

"But that was such a nice sweater," you say quietly, trying to earn a smile from Steve. It doesn't take.

"I don't care about the sweater," he says.

You're close enough to see the wrinkles his forehead makes when he winces as he wraps the fabric around your shoulder. The pressure against the wound stings, and you recoil.

"Shit, sorry," he says. "We just have to put pressure on it, okay?"

"I know," you whisper, nodding quickly. "Do what you have to do."

He tightens the fabric around your arm up to your shoulder, tying a knot at your shoulder blade. You find a place to focus your eyes, and it just so happens to be his chest, peppered with tufts of hair.

Then your eyes travel up to his face. His very concerned looking face.

"Steve, jeez, you look..." Worried isn't quite the word. It's not strong enough. "Distraught. It's okay! I didn't die."

"You got hurt, though," he answers, bending down with the other half of the fabric, investigating the gash on your ankle. "Can you hold onto me?"

You oblige, moving your good arm to grip his firm, naked shoulder. You stare down at Steve, hair tousled, as he creates a tourniquet around your ankle.

Finally, Steve rises to his feet, towering over you with frantic eyes.

"Thanks for patching me up," you say. "Now stop looking so worried."

"(Y/N), we care about you, okay?" he says quietly. "I care about you. I can't... I can't see you get hurt." Steve sighs, cupping your shoulders, grip loose on the bad shoulder. "You don’t see how much you matter to me? Don't you get it?"

His eyes skitter away, then return to yours. Steve's so close, smelling of sweat and cologne.

"Get what?" you ask.

Your eyes travel his face, waiting for an indication of what he's talking about.

"I don’t know when I wanted to do this but this is definitely not the time. We should go," Steve says, words rushed. He’s nervous. You’ve never seen Steve nervous. "Are you okay to walk?"

The confusion of the last five seconds sends your head spinning, so all you can do is nod. No need for Steve to carry you again, no matter how comforting it was. And no need to make a joke about it, because whatever happened between you just shifted everything.

How much you matter to him? This isn’t the time? What the hell is he talking about?

Sure, you’d been friends for a few months now and of course a person cares about their friends, but as you make your way through the woods, careful not to roll your ankle, you can’t get the soft, meaningful way Steve was looking at you out of your head.

Steve marches in front of you, listening for your footsteps to make sure you’re okay, but unable to bear turning around to look at you again. He's too nervous that he's ruined everything with you.

As much as he likes you, your obliviousness has frustrated him to no end.

Whenever he’d ask to hang out outside of work, you’d ask if Robin was coming, too. Whenever he complimented you, you’d roll your eyes and assume he was joking. Whenever he’d go above and beyond to show he cared about you, you’d smile in that sweet way you always did, too stubborn to see that he was falling for you. 

Robin had been telling him to just give it to you straight. But right now? In this squalid forest in the Upside Down? Not the time to just spill it out to you.

You stare at his bare back as you follow him, watching the dips and valleys of his muscles, and you’re not sure if he’s mad or just stressed out. You feel like you’re missing an important piece to the puzzle, but you’ve searched everywhere and the piece simply isn’t there.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie says as you approach the group. “Anyone know how much longer we have to walk through literal hell?”

“We’re close,” Nancy says matter-of-factly. 

“(Y/N), you alright?” Robin asks, eyes darting between you and Steve. He finally turns around, concerned eyes boring into you.

“Yeah,” you say. “Thank you, Steve.”

He gives you a genuine smile, albeit small, and turns back around. Robin meets your eyes again and you mouth “I don’t know” to her with a shake of your head. She looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t.

When you reach the Wheeler house, you’re grateful to see that at least couches exist in this alternate dimension. At this point, the ache in your ankle is sharp again, and you desperately need a break.

As the others go upstairs and explore the house, you sink into the living room couch and trying to even your breathing. Guilt finds its way into your core when you think back to Steve’s frantic eyes and shaking hands. He was terrified for you.

A minute passes, and when you hear the four of your group members talking upstairs, you grab the armrest, pushing yourself up onto your feet. The break helped.

As you go towards the noise to find the group, quick footsteps hammer down the stairs and you get to the staircase to find that Steve has just reached the bottom.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks.

“Just took a little break,” you say. “Steve, I’m sorry that I scared you.”

“Hey,” Steve whispers. He can’t take the sad expression on your face - the way your mouth turns down and the way your eyelids drop kills him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

You swallow hard and nod, looking up the staircase in the dark, musky house.

“You can hold my hand if you want to,” Steve says gently, and you take it without hesitation, his palm calloused and warm. Your heart races at the intimate gesture.

When you make it to the bedroom, Robin takes note of you and when her eyes dart to your hand clasped in Steve’s, you swear that she smiles for a second.

Being guided by Dustin’s echoing voice from the world you’re desperately trying to get back to, the five of you stare at an orb of light, debris floating menacingly. You kneel in front of the light, and when you lose grip with Steve’s hand, you’re surprised to realize how empty you feel without his touch.

After staring at the light for a few moments, an idea pops into your head.

“Trace with your finger,” you say quietly to nobody in particular, and when Nancy tries and it works, the others gasp in disbelief.

“Good one, arcade girl,” Robin says, amazed. You grin at your friend.

When you realize you have to make it to Eddie’s trailer, dread fills your body. You’re not sure if you can walk again. But when you discover that you can bike there, you’re much more up for the task. You make it to the trailer soon after, relieved knowing you’re one step closer to getting home.

Breaking any and all laws of physics, the five you climb and somehow fall at the same time into the right version of the world. Breathing in normal air brings you a wave of comfort.

You all take a second to inhale and exhale and let it sink in that you’ve made it back. You gaze up at the portal that separates you from the terrifying world you’d been attacked in.

Then, you look to your aching shoulder to see that your blood has soaked through Steve’s sweater. Dread crawls up your back. Your impulse is find Steve’s eyes next, and when you do, you see that he’s chewing on his bottom lip as he stares at your shoulder.

“(Y/N) needs to get to the hospital,” Steve announces, more so to himself than anyone else. You’ve been successfully softening the magnitude of your injuries, but now, seeing that much blood and feeling as faint as you feel, you can finally agree with Steve’s uneasiness.

“Get them home,” Steve says to Robin, Steve, and Eddie, motioning to the kids. “And I’ll get her to a doctor.”

“Steve, the neighbor two trailers down has one of those magnet key boxes,” Eddie says, glancing between you two. “Under his front left tire. I’ve... taken it for a spin a few times. I swear, the old guy sleeps like a rock. He’s never caught me.”

“We can’t steal someone’s car,” you say, wary.

“We’ll borrow it,” Steve says, nodding to Eddie. “We’ll take anything we can get now. You need a doctor.”

You’re too tired to argue.

“And you probably need a shirt, dingus,” Robin comments. Steve looks down and nods quickly, so distracted by your state of need that he can’t think of anything else.

After Eddie lends Steve a plain black t-shirt, the two of you pace to the neighbor’s Ford in silence. You settle into the pick-up truck, feeling throbbing in your shoulder.

“How’s the ankle?” Steve asks once he slides into the driver’s seat. The engine comes to life when he turns the key.

“Better than the shoulder,” you say.

Steve exhales deeply, and when you glance over at him, you notice his hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

The two of you make it out of the neighborhood and onto a main road that you recognize.

He’s scared. He’s so, so scared. In the Upside Down - hell, even in the Russians’ bunker, he was more calm than he is now. He can’t stand to see you in danger like this. 

Street lamps plunge you in and out of light.

The pain and the fatigue hits you like a train, and you feel hot tears build in your eyes. You can’t hold them back and they slip down your cheeks, letting out quiet sniffles.

"Oh no, baby, please don’t cry,” Steve whispers, the pet name slipping out and immediately embarrassing him. “We've got like... not even ten minutes, okay?"

"I'm just tired," you mumble.

"It's okay. We're getting you to a hospital. It's okay."

In his time working at Family Video, Steve had seen his fair share of drama films. And one thing he remembers about when someone is seriously injured: keep them talking.

"Talk to me about something else," Steve tells you. "Anything."

"I'm really glad I have tomorrow off," you mumble. It makes Steve chuckle, and you smile to yourself. "Finally, I get you to laugh. You've been so serious all night. It's unlike you."

You think back to how courageous Steve was in the Upside Down. He was like an action hero.

"But seriously, you were kind of amazing down there, Harrington," you mumble honestly.

Steve feels his cheeks get warm. How can you say things like that and not realize what it does to him?

"Yeah, I know," he quips, making a right turn. Only a few blocks left.

"Humble as always," you mumble, feeling your eyelids getting heavier. Steve looks over at you.

"Do me a favour?" he says.

"Hmm?"

"Keep your eyes open?"

You sigh, forcing your eyes open.

"Yes, sir," you tease.

"So, what would you have done tomorrow? With your day off? Tell me everything you're thinking." Steve asks.

"I was planning on catching up on sleep," you tell him. You think of your home. Your bed. Your mom works nights, so you'd probably wake up when she's already back home and sleeping. At least you know she left for work before you set out of the house tonight, so she has no idea that you spent your evening fighting inter-dimensional monsters.

"I'd have a quiet morning," you continue. "My mom would already be back in bed, so I'd watch the tv on low. Then I was thinking of dropping by Hawkins' best video store."

"Best, huh?" Steve asks. He loves when you come into store. Hearing the door jingle and looking to see you walking through it always gives him happy goosebumps.

"I know a guy. Gives all the best recommendations."

"Sounds... not true."

"Okay, yeah, I lied," you say. "But his boss knows all the girls come in just to see him so he keeps him around."

"They do?" Steve chuckles.

"Don't play clueless, Harrington," you tease, fighting to keep your eyelids up.

Steve shakes his head to himself. If only you knew how clueless you were about how much he likes you.

"How's it driving?" you ask.

"Higher up than I'm used to," Steve answers with a nervous chuckle. He goes through a green light. "But okay."

"It smells like peanuts in here," you say. Steve laughs. "Hey, you said to tell you everything I'm thinking."

"I'm glad you are," Steve says.

"I can't believe that this car is stolen right now."

"Borrowed."

"You stole a car for me," you say.

"I'd do anything for you," Steve replies.

This sends your heart fluttering. Even in your drowsy state, you recognize the weight of his words.

"Remember when we met and I rented out that movie just to make you look good to Keith?" you ask.

"I was thinking about that actually," Steve says. "Earlier tonight." He thinks back to watching the water in Lovers Lake, praying you'd come back up to the surface.

"You said you owed me one."

"Yeah?"

"With everything you did tonight, consider it paid back. Like, tenfold."

"All I did tonight was freak out," Steve says.

One thing you know for sure about Steve after months of being friends with him: he likes to pretend to be cocky, but in reality, he can never take credit for how good of a guy he is.

"We're here," he announces, pulling into the hospital parking lot. You breathe a sigh of relief.

After checking in and claiming it was a stray dog that attacked you - "close enough", Steve had said to you privately - you were waiting in the small hospital room.

You assumed Steve would've wanted to stay in the waiting room, but he offered to come with you, and it made you feel much less nervous.

You sit at the end of the hospital bed, and Steve is settled in a chair a few feet away from you, leg shaking rapidly. You look at him, his brown hair hanging over his forehead, chin resting in his hand, concerned eyes glued to you. His jeans and shoes are dirty and look funny with the clean borrowed t-shirt. You stare at each other, wordless.

In this moment, Steve can't think of anything more important in this world than you.

"So we got a dog bite here?" you hear a voice. You look up to see a woman in a lab coat enter through the door, with a nurse following close behind.

"Ye- yes," you mumble.

"Okay, let's take a look."

You peel off the soaked, ripped sweater Steve had given you, wincing at the pain. The doctor quickly examines it and looks at you.

Steve watches, heart ripped in two.

"You'll need stitches and antibiotics," the doctor explains to you. "We have anesthesia so the area will be numbed, alright?" the doctor explains.

"Okay," you repeat.

After the wound is cleaned and the numbing gel is applied, you look to Steve again. Remembering what he said back in the Upside Down in the Wheelers' home, you give him a weak smile.

"You can hold my hand if you want to," you say to him. Steve exhales with a smile, standing next to you, fingers interlacing with yours.

You don't look when the doctor puts in the stitches. After they check out your ankle and determine it doesn't need stitches, they clean and wrap it in gauze. The doctor then does a general check-up and determines that your blood loss level doesn't require extra attention, so you're okay to go home.

"But drink water and stay off your feet," she instructs. "And I'll see you soon to get those stitches out." The doctor looks to Steve. "Make sure she takes it easy and takes her antibiotics, okay?"

He nods with a serious expression, taking his mission to heart.

When you exit the hospital and get back into the pick-up truck, Steve takes a moment to hold his head in his hands and sigh deeply.

"I like you so much," he says quietly. He can't keep it in any longer.

You swallow hard, staring at him. His head is still in his hands, fingers in his messy hair.

"Wh- what?" Your voice is small. Disbelieving.

Steve drops his hands to his lap and looks at you. In the dark pick-up truck, the shadows aren't too stark, but you wish you could see his eyes better. See if what he's telling you really is true.

"I thought it was so obvious." He half-chuckles. Your eyes travel over his face. The weird comments about you not getting it, his anxiety over your injuries, the way he takes care of you. It all makes sense. The last puzzle piece clicks into place.

Your stomach numbs at your friend's confession. He likes you. And within the next millisecond, you realize you like him back.

"Watching you get hurt... I can't explain it, (Y/N). It kills me," he says. "I care about you so much. I can't keep it in anymore."

"Why did you?" you ask with a smile. "Keep it in, I mean."

"Waiting for the right moment?" he explains. "Waiting for you to see it yourself?"

"You'd be waiting forever," you tell him. "I'm clueless." Steve chuckles, dipping his head. "I'm clueless and I like you, too."

His head darts up - eyes big and smile bigger.

"Yeah?" Steve's tone is adorably excited.

"I thought it was so obvious," you tease. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

He's gentle when his lips find yours. No matter how hungry he is for this, for you, no matter how long he's wanted to kiss you, he's soft and slow with it. He wants to take his time, especially because you're injured.

His mouth is warm, a wonderful change from the cold bitterness of everything that took place tonight.

To Steve, kissing you is unlike how he imagined. It's somehow even better. And while he kisses you, he knows when he says he likes you, he really means love. But he'll save that word for a time when you've wrapped your head around everything that's happened tonight.

Steve pulls back, forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed.

"Sorry I'm clueless," you whisper. Steve laughs the sweetest laugh.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" he asks. Your heart swells.

"Yes," you reply, unable to think of any better way to say it.

"I want to stay here forever, but you need sleep and medication," he whispers back.

"Yes, sir," you sarcastically scoff.

Steve smiles below the next kiss he gives you and pulls back to start the car.

You have no right to feel jealous. You know that.

You've had months to tell Steve how you feel about him. Ever since you started working at Family Video, what you thought was harmless flirting snowballed into deep feelings, but you were always too scared to step into the realm of letting them be known.

It was risky. He could reject you and then what - you just keep showing up to your shifts pretending it never happened?

But who knew if you were ever even going to get up to the surface again? Now, the agony of yearning for a coworker felt ridiculous compared to your current situation.

But even with that, even with being in a terrifying demon-filled dimension deep beneath Hawkins, when Nancy is helping Steve with his wounds, touching his skin, envy creeps up your back like it has been every time you've seen the two of them together since you'd fallen for him.

Seeing and being touched by Nancy had sent Steve into a tailspin. Like always, he had felt a magnet pull towards her. Something about Nancy made his brain shut off and ignore any potential risks. Risks like being told he wasn't loved by her out of nowhere.

But every time he looked at you, he could ground himself a little. Meeting you felt like a reset. With you, Steve got nervous, but good nervous. With Nancy, it was like the type of fear he could only imagine one would feel teetering at the edge of a cliff. He couldn't quite explain why, but with you, it was like standing at the cliffside, but knowing he could never fall off.

But telling you this and crossing that line meant never going back. And the friendship between you, him, and Robin was just so great. If you felt the same, though, that'd be the best case scenario - but if not - well, that was the worst case because he'd lose you and mess up your dynamic forever.

Back when you started at the video store, you admitted to yourself that Steve was cute. It got even worse when you realized he's actually kind and sort of funny.

You found a friend in Robin and consequently Steve, and assumed it'd be a slow year of working shifts to earn money for college.

It didn't take long for you to realize nothing about your year was going to be normal.

When the kids you'd later learned were named Dustin, Max, and Lucas came in frantic and desperate for help, you listened from afar, trying to keep up with their hushed conversation.

"What's going on?" you finally said. All five of them stared at you with wide eyes.

"Uh, who's that?" the young redhead asked.

After a tense silence, Robin nervously scratched her head.

"You won't believe us if we tell you," Robin said to you.

"And trust me, it's better you don't know," Steve interjected.

His words stung. And partly out of spite, you pressed them for information.

Steve had been half-right about it being better that you didn't know. Because now were in a scorched wasteland drowning in red skies and spine-chilling screeching, wondering how the hell you were going to go back home.

But the other side of you knew you were a part of something important - you all could save Hawkins and stop Vecna from killing any more innocent people. And no matter how scared you were, you committed to this mission and knew you were doing the right thing.

But that didn't make watching Nancy tend to Steve any easier.

You sigh to yourself, sore from fighting off the horrific bats that had attacked you all when you swam through the gate, ready to journey to your next destination: Nancy Wheeler's house.

Or, rather, the Upside Down version of it.

You, Steve, Robin, Eddie, and Nancy trek through the murky woods. Your thoughts race and blend together - from trying to figure out how to get out of here, to how lucky you are that your parents aren't returning from their business trip until tomorrow evening so you don't have to worry about making curfew, to how bad the aching in your chest hurts over Steve being so obviously uninterested in you as anything but a friend.

The months of flirting were really just friendliness, weren't they?

A few minutes into the walk, with barely any words spoken, you feel an hand on your forearm.

You look up to see Steve's wide, kind eyes. He glances at the group walking in front of you two and his grip gets a tiny bit tighter to signal to you to stop.

Once they're out of earshot, Steve quietly speaks.

"Hey, I know this is a crap-ton to process." His voice is low. Sincere.

"Exactly that amount," you answer, pressure lifting off your chest like it always does when you talk to Steve. "A crap-ton."

He half-smiles, eyes sympathetic. You glance at the group and notice Robin's gaze is on you as they march forward, but she quickly nods in acknowledgement and turns back.

Steve begins to slowly pace and you mirror him, feeling your boots digging into soil. He lets go of your forearm and you wish he didn't.

"For what it's worth, you're adjusting way better than I did," Steve says. You smile gratefully.

"Really?"

"Oh, there was a lot of screaming."

You laugh.

"A crap-ton?" you ask.

"Maybe even two," Steve replies with a smirk. He continues to pace slowly, aiming his flashlight at your path. "But seriously, you look kinda... down. And I just wanted to say you're handling it like a champ. We'll get out of here, okay?" Hearing him say that sends your heart into flutters.

It's silly to think part of the reason you're noticeably moping is because your crush's ex-girlfriend is giving him a lot of attention and he seems to be loving every second. You slightly shake your head as if to dismiss the thought.

"You got out of here before, right?" you ask, already knowing the answer. You gaze up at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

Steve and Robin had already shared the bizarre history of Russians and monsters when they finally told you what was going on in Hawkins, but a piece of you was stuck in the reality you've always known. That piece of you still couldn't believe everything they told you, let alone that you were actually in a different dimension.

"Yeah," Steve confirms. "This is... a new neighborhood but yeah." When your smile doesn't match your eyes, his eyebrows furrow again.

"Sorry, that was supposed to be funny," he says. This earns a laugh from you and Steve's heart warms when he sees the smile on your face. "We'll get out. You can count on it."

The fact that he's taking the time to console you is exactly the reason you fell for him. His kindness. The long shifts at Family Video actually felt short when you worked with him - whether you were joking around, sharing tidbits about each other, or talking about your plans for the future. And within the conversations you'd shared those busy weekdays and dead weeknights, you felt you saw Steve for who he was. A man with a heart of gold.

It was always easy with him. Except when he was talking about his love life. One date story from Steve was one too many if you weren't the one he was on a date with. But still, you listened as he whined to you and Robin about his unluckiness, hoping one day, he'd wake up and realize what he wanted was right there. You were right there.

"Is it weird being around Nancy?" As soon as the question spills out of your mouth, it surprises you - maybe even more than it surprises Steve. Your jealousy has reared its ugly head and forced the impulse to ask before you could think to stop it.

"Kind of," Steve answers honestly, nudging his floppy hair off of his forehead. You stare up, wishing you could be the one to push his hair back. "Maybe that little jerk is right." Steve chuckles to himself, thinking back to Dustin telling him he was throwing himself at Nancy. "I'm... being a lost puppy, aren't I?"

You giggle, thinking back to a conversation you'd had with Steve only a few weeks ago. It was a slow Tuesday night, the store empty, and he was on rewind duty while you were organizing the "New Releases" section. He had broken the comfortable silence between you.

"You know what one of my high school buddies once said?" he asked.

"Something about sports?" you teased. "That's all boys talk about, right?" Steve laughed, the sweetest sound in the world to you. You had looked at him over the counter to see his chin resting in his hand as he gazed at the small television screen displaying the romantic comedy he was rewinding.

"He called me a lost puppy when I was with Nancy," Steve told you. The mention of her name made you tense up, but you hid it well. "And, I don't know, the dude in this movie staring at Michelle Pfeiffer just reminded me of that... I... It's stupid."

"It's not," you say, and even though the subject sends painful twinges of your heart, you love when Steve opens up like this. "Go on."

"I feel like I used to look at Nance just like that - like I would do anything in the world for her and it... it makes me feel dumb for not realizing she wasn't looking at me like that, too." Steve shakes his head, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Dude, these romance movies are turning my brain to mush."

You laughed, continuing to stack the VHS tapes carefully so not to peel back any of the covers.

"Steve, there's nothing wrong with being a lost puppy. I'd love it if a guy was a lost puppy for me." You nervously chuckle. "I think... it's not stupid. And you'll find a girl who'll give you that exact look back. You deserve it."

Steve couldn't say it, but hearing those words come from you made butterflies not only fly around, but crash into each other into his stomach. If only he could ask if you'd love for that guy to be him.

"I do have that date with Lisa on Friday," he quickly deflected, already knowing he had no future with the girl who always zoned out when he spoke.

"There you go," you had answered, forcing an optimistic tone. As you stacked colorful rectangles, you swallowed the lump in your throat that always formed when you were reminded that Steve and you would only ever remain friends.

So when you're hiking through the damp forest in the Upside Down, unknown debris floating around, and Steve asks you if he's being a lost puppy, you only shrug. With how much it upsets you seeing them together, you don't know if you can answer that question without any bias.

"Oh God, that's a yes, isn't it?" Steve whines quietly.

You know it's just envy, but you had always thought Steve had been too nice to Nancy. From what you had heard, it seemed she had started her relationship with Jonathan before letting Steve know she didn't want to be with him anymore. Which shocked you, too. Who wouldn't want to be with him?

But you understood why he loved her. She was incredibly smart, confident, and beautiful. 

Steve hadn't spoken much about her other than that short conversation between you two a few weeks back, but he didn't need to for it to be obvious that she had broken his heart.

"Well," you begin, trying not to stare at his exposed chest under the denim vest Eddie had given him. Instead, you stare ahead at the group a yard in front of you, recognizing Nancy's hair and wondering what it was you lacked and she had that made Steve so lovesick for her. "I don't want to pry-"

"Oh God, please pry," Steve interrupts. You look at him again and share a knowing smile. You'd seen him desperate to understand girls only a thousand times before.

"Maybe it's unresolved feelings or... a lack of closure... I don't know," you say, rambling, trying to come up with something to say. You sigh and decide to be honest. Well, honest enough that you don't admit you're falling for him. "But if she... never made you feel like she loved you as much as you loved her, do you really want to go back to that?"

Steve's lips thin as he frowns, understandably nodding.

"I... don't know what lost puppy looks like on you," you continue, aiming to lighten the tension. "So, maybe you're not doing it again. But... I guess the question is: are you feeling anything when you're with her?" You brace yourself for the impact of his reply.

"I don't know," Steve mumbles, gazing down at the ground. "If I had to put in a word - maybe nostalgia? Like I'm remembering the good parts only?"

You could live with that. Ideally, he'd say he feels nothing with her like he feels when he's with you, but you've daydreamed about Steve enough and doing it right in front of him makes you cringe.

"As much as it kills me to say, though, it seems she's still into you," you muster up, knowing that it's not right to keep it to yourself.

"Why's it kill you to say it?"

Thankfully, you notice the group has stopped ahead, waiting for you before they make the next turn.

"Oh, they're waiting for us," you say, words rushed.

"Guess that's the end of my therapy session," Steve quietly mumbles. You laugh with him, nudging his shoulder and he nudges you back. You join the group, wishing you could speak to Steve just a little bit more. But you'll take what you can get.

When you make it to the Wheeler house and the five of you discover how to contact Dustin, you're left speechless. The communication between the two dimensions shakes you, and when you realize you'll have to go outside again to get to Eddie's trailer, you do your best to hide your fear. 

As your legs pump to ride the bike, hands gripping the handles, you hear the ominous thunder cracking in the sky above. You try to keep your breathing steady, following those in front of you, missing the comfort of the town on the other side of your journey.

Sure enough, Dustin was right - there's a gate on Eddie's trailer's roof. Somehow, defying all laws of physics, the five of you climb up the rope made of bed sheets and tumble down into the trailer.

The conversations that pour around you make your ears ring; the group discusses why the Upside Down is frozen in time, if there's any way to close the gates, how to stop Vecna... meanwhile you're just trying to catch your breath.

"Alright, alright," Steve says, raising his voice. He checks his watch. "It's... shit, it's way past 1 a.m. And how the hell are we all gonna get home?"

"Oh, he's laying down the law," Nancy cracks, making you smile.

"Really, Robin?" Steve mutters, but you can tell he's only half-annoyed.

"Wait a sec..." Eddie mumbles, pacing to the counter and digging for keys in a small box. He pulls out a key, clicks a button, and looks up to the sky. When we all hear a car horn, Eddie smirks. "I can't believe it's still here. Eddie's Taxi is open for business. As long as I can crash at someone's place because home sweet home is apparently a portal to hell now."

"You can crash at mine," Steve says. "Parents are out of town again."

"We can all cram into a Chevy, right?" Eddie asks.

"Challenge accepted," Robin says.

"We can just bike," Dustin mentions, motioning to himself and his three friends.

"Oh, no you can't," Steve interrupts. Seeing him protective like that makes it hard for you not to smile at him. You’re sure if you did, you’d look like a lost puppy.

Like sardines in a can, breaking several safety laws, you venture out in Eddie's car, head pounding over the overlapping conversations and the memories of all that you had witnesses.

The younger ones in the group get dropped off at the Wheeler home first, where sure enough, parents are angrily waiting. To your guilty relief, Nancy gets out then too.

"What's closer from here? Robin's or (Y/N)'s?" Eddie asks.

"I'm up on Chester," Robin says.

Now that you have some space to think, you gaze at the three faces turned towards you.

"Uh, actually, Steve, if you have room, could I crash there, too?" you finally say, stomach nervously turning. You don't want to say it out loud, but the thought of going into your empty home is terrifying.

"Of course," Steve quickly replies. You smile gratefully, staying silent for the rest of the drive to Robin's house, then Steve's.

The large home is decorated beautifully, but it seems cold. Like there is no sense of life here. No photos. Nothing truly lived in.

"Dude, you got a mega mansion," Eddie says with an impressed chuckle. "My trailer is smaller than your driveway alone. I should be depressed but I'm just amazed."

Steve only chuckles, shutting the door behind the three of you. The sound of the locks turning brings you some calmness, even though you know that couldn't stop the monsters you saw in the Upside Down.

"We have two couches and a guest room," Steve says, hands on his hips. In the light of his home, you can see the ash on his face, the cut of his muscles, the soaked blood on the cloth wrapped on his torso.

"The lady may have the guest room," Eddie says with a bow. You chuckle, unable to understand how he can be so chipper. Steve points him in the direction of the living room.

"I'll grab some clothes for you guys," Steve says. "Guest room's just down the hall there." You follow his pointing finger down the hallway wrapping past the staircase and nod, looking up at him with a grateful smile.

The guest room is just as untouched as the rest of the grandiose house. You sit on the edge of the white sheets on the queen bed in the center of the room, staring ahead at the hotel-esque painting on the wall.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you realize your legs are bouncing. You tighten your hands on your knees in an attempt to calm them.

You hear a gentle tap on the door.

"Come in," you say, voice cracking.

Steve steps inside, dirty vest and jeans traded in for a fitted dark t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms.

"I clean up nice, huh?" he says. You realize you must have been looking down at his pj's a little too long. There's something about seeing him outside of his Family Video uniform and in comfortable clothes that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I don't think I've ever seen you not in uniform," you say.

Steve chuckles, handing you balled up clothes. You notice his hair is wet from a shower.

"I can't complain about that ugly vest too much... at Scoops, I was in shorts and a sailor's hat."

You laugh, really laugh, for the first time all night.

Steve can't help but notice how small and scared you look sitting at the end of the bed. He's used to all this by now - alternate dimensions and nightmarish monsters - but you aren't. And it makes his heart twinge in sympathy.

You hold the cotton pajamas he handed to you in your lap.

"Thanks for these," you say. "And for letting me crash."

"No problem," Steve says. "There's a shower through that door, too." He sits down at the edge of the bed next to you, sending a rush of his wonderful smelling shampoo your way. Bending to sit makes him wince, and he doesn't hide it well.

"Oh shit, are you okay?" you ask, impulsively grabbing his bicep and looking to his torso, even though it's covered by his shirt. You think back to Nancy helping Steve wrap the wound and swallow hard.

"It's not so bad. I cleaned it and put a new tourniquet on it," Steve tells you. "I'll show it to you if you want nightmares."

"Oh, I'm good," you say, leaning back, letting go of his arm. This makes Steve laugh, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "I got enough nightmare material, thank you."

Steve tilts his head, looking at you in that caring, big-eyed way he does sometimes.

"I know tonight was a lot," Steve says. "After we talked, you didn't really say another word and I got kind of..." He thinks back to how concerned he was when he noticed you in the trailer, eyes wide, looking petrified. "I know that shit is scary."

"I still kind of feel like I'm dreaming or watching a horror movie or something," you admit, glancing down at your lap. "I didn't want to be in an empty house tonight, so I appreciate this."

"You know how my parents are," Steve says. You nod, recalling how he had told you in the past that they were ever barely home. "You're welcome any time."

"You were... brave, Steve," you say, realizing his courage made you fall even deeper for him. "I hope I can be more helpful next time."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks.

"I kind of just followed around," you say guiltily.

"Hey, you were brave, too. You fought off those freaky bats," Steve says, placing a warm hand on your knee and giving you goosebumps. "And gave me a very honest reality check. Your help was unvaluable."

You giggle.

"You mean invaluable?" you ask.

"See? What would I do without you?" Steve asks. The warmth in his tone numbs your chest. "Seriously, if it weren't for you, we wouldn’t have made it out and on top of that, I would've just... I don't know, thrown myself at Nancy all night."

The mention of her name sends a rush of jealousy into the pit of your stomach.

"Maybe it could work out for you two this time," you say with a defeated shrug.

"I don't want it to," Steve says quietly. You finally look up at his warm eyes. This close to him, you realize he has freckles spread across his cheeks.

“How come?” you ask, surrounded in the heavy tension that has filled the room.

“I’m into someone else,” Steve says.

“Have I met her?” you ask. The way he’s looking at you, lips slightly parted, eyes travelling your face, is giving you hope that he’s talking about you. But it feels too good to be true.

“Well, you see her in the mirror every day,” Steve says.

You laugh and roll your eyes. He must be joking. 

“Shut up, be serious,” you say, lightly pushing his chest. Steve laughs, placing a big hand over yours, and it stays on his chest, the thin cotton warm over his firm body.

“I am being serious,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry if I’m making things weird. Tell me to get lost if you don’t feel the same. Seriously, we’ll just pretend this never happened.”

Steve’s forehead wrinkles, like he’s bracing for impact. The way you’re looking at him, shocked and adorable, is making him worried that he’s making a big mistake.

Finally, a smile grows on your face. He can’t see it, but he’s sure he’s doing his lost puppy look right now.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Yeah what?” Steve asks with a sweet boyish chuckle.

“I feel the same,” you say, heart pounding against your ribs. “But speaking of mirrors, I haven’t looked in one and... I bet I look awful right now so I feel like you’re probably just delusional.”

He laughs, squeezing your hand as it remains on his chest.

“You’re always beautiful.” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s saying the most obvious thing in the world.

You feel blood rush to your face and look down, smiling and slightly shaking your head.

“Can I kiss you?” His words come out stammered, nervous.

You look up and instead of nodding, you simply close the distance between you, feeling his soft, warm lips against yours.

Your bottom lip is snug between his lips as he kisses you tightly, and you feel his hand move from yours to the side of your head, where he holds you tenderly. You’d imagined kissing Steve before, but never could have imagined just how soft, how loving it would be.

You pull apart, and when you look at him, you notice a pink tone under his freckles and beauty spots.

“Am I making Steve Harrington blush?” you tease.

“So this is how it’s going to be, okay,” Steve laughs, moving his hand from your cheek to rub his chin.

“You act like you don’t know me or something,” you say, impulsively leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder. Steve chuckles. You feel a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m glad I do,” Steve says sincerely, tone low. “And I also think you need to sleep.”

“Stay with me?” you ask, voice small. You bring your head up and look at his handsome face.

Flowers bloom in Steve’s chest once he realizes that you feel safe and protected with him. He beams as he nods at you.

After a shower and a change into Steve’s clothes, you make your way back to the guest room, where Steve is laying on top of the covers, staring up at the ceiling.

“You look deep in thought,” you say, eager to get under warm covers.

Steve sits up, eyes travelling with you as you sink into the bed. He realizes you’re planning to leave the lights on, and that’s completely fine with him.

“You can get under if you want,” you say, holding up the duvet. He smirks, happily obliging and lying down again, head on the pillow.

You lie across from him, looking at him, unable to fully wrap your head around the fact that you’re lying in a bed with Steve. The lush white covers are up to your shoulders.

“Thinking about what the hell we’re all going to do next,” Steve says, mentally reliving the horrors in the Upside Down. “And to be honest, worrying about you.”

You reach an arm forward, and he quickly takes your hand, resting your clasped hands between you.

“What’s there to worry about?” you ask with a playful shrug. “I totally wasn’t scared. Not one bit.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head and bringing your hand up with his to his lips. He kisses the back of your hand tenderly, looking at you with sweet eyes as he does it. It makes you melt.

“I really like you, but you’re a crap liar,” Steve says, his tone slower and tired. You two share a chuckle again.

“How’s your side?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed, fighting the heaviness of your eyelids.

“I’ll live,” he says. You finally close your eyes, sinking into the pillow.

“I was so jealous when Nancy was helping you,” you mumble, words nearly slurring from fatigue. “And I must be exhausted because I can’t believe I just admitted that.”

You hear Steve chuckle again.

“You’ll never have anything to be jealous of,” he whispers back.

You don't realize just how nervous you really are until you bring your lipstick to your mouth and notice your trembling hand.

You sigh, dropping your hand to your lap.

You’re sitting in your bedroom in front of your mirror, getting ready for a concert you thought you were excited for. But that's the thing about anxiety. It tricks you.

You, Steve, and Robin have tickets to a local metal show. Eddie's band is performing tonight and he had given free tickets to you three.

"A perk to knowing the band," Eddie had boasted at his party. His trailer and front yard were littered with high schoolers and a few college kids, and as usual, you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. 

Not to Steve, though. You never looked out of place to him.

The four of you were by the kitchen and your boyfriend was leaning against the counter, arm slung around you.

You and Steve had met at Starcourt Mall when you worked at the pretzel booth across the vast hall from Scoops Ahoy. Steve would visit the kiosk once, sometimes twice a day, just for a chance to talk to you.

After the mall burned down, he still had your phone number and finally took the chance to ask you out. To you, it was obvious you were head over heels for him. But to Steve, he couldn't read you so it was a total shot in the dark.

Not anymore, though. After months of hours-long phone calls late into the night and dates he tried his best to make fun for you, he understood you like he understood himself. And tonight, he was proud and admittedly pretty giddy to be seen with you.

"Is your band actually good?" Robin asked Eddie after taking the free tickets.

"Are we actually good," Eddie echoed with a scoff.

"Is it like that hair metal stuff?" Robin asked. Eddie put a hand on his hip, bewildered.

You were slightly amused by the conversation, but couldn't ignore the nerves gnawing at you. Steve noticed immediately. Like always.

"You okay?" he asked lowly.

"Yeah," you fibbed.

"Now answer for real this time," Steve says with a gentle smile.

"A little claustrophobic," you answered.

"We'll be outside," Steve says louder to Eddie and Robin, taking your hand and leading you out of the warm trailer. The way he immediately fixed the problem made your heart leap.

The cool summer air pressed against your face and you instantly felt better. Steve led you to an open pocket between groups of people standing outside the trailer and faced you, hand cupping your shoulder.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," you answered. Steve eyebrows moved closer together as he confusedly shook his head.

"You don't need to be," he reassured. You sighed out of relief, stepping towards him and holding your cheek against his chest.

Feeling his heartbeat always calmed you down. Steve didn't know this was the reason, but he did know you always liked pressing your cheek to his chest when you were overwhelmed. You both call it your "cheek on chest thing" and if you weren't so infatuated with Steve, you might cringe at the sappiness.

"I love you," you said to Steve.

"I love you more," he replied.

"That concert sounds fun," you mumbled into his shirt. He smelled like cologne and boy.

"Yeah?" he said with a sweet laugh. His warm hand found its way to your back. Steve looked down at the top of your head, smirking to himself. You were unbelievably adorable to him.

"I know, we just left the trailer because of a crowd and I'm talking about going into an even bigger crowd," you acknowledged. "But I've never been to a concert. I want to experience it. And you'll be there. Hopefully?"

Steve kissed the top of your head. It's what he loved about you. Even though you were more on the reserved side, you didn't let it stop you from living life.

"Yes," he said. "And we can step outside just like this if it gets too crazy. Let's just hope Robin didn't offend Eddie so bad that he took the tickets back."

You giggled and felt him kiss the top of your head again.

You felt fine that night. You felt fine the week leading up to the concert. But now, the anxiety has hit you like a train. Of course, on the night of the event.

You imagine what Steve's doing right now. Probably finishing touches - he's going to leave home to pick you up in a matter of minutes.

You look at the clock. Ten minutes left to finish getting ready. You're nearly done your makeup - the last step to your process.

You look into the mirror and try to soothe yourself. You breathe in and out slowly. You can't cancel now.

But your fear has taken full control, telling you something will go wrong. The crowd will swallow you. Or you'll get made fun of. Or Steve will realize that you're simply too much work for him and leave you there.

You shake away the thought. He would never do that.

You hear your mother call your name from downstairs.

"Yeah?" you call.

"Steve's here!" she shouts. You swallow hard.

"But I'm early so take your time!" you hear your boyfriend yell. You laugh to yourself, the anxiety slowly dissolving from your chest. You can imagine him standing down there, being his charming self, making easy conversation with your mom.

It seems anything social is easy for Steve. Even when he's unsure of what to say or making jokes that don't land, it's like he has an undying confidence in himself.

Unlike you. You've been asked "why are you so quiet?" and told "you don't have to be so awkward" all your life. The ridicule has always been hard to deal with.

You try to dismiss the thought.

You finish applying your makeup, grab your bag, and head downstairs.

When Steve sees you walking down the steps, his heart stops. You're stunning. He can't believe how lucky he is to call you his girlfriend. He doesn't want to gawk, so he forces himself to look away.

"You look so pretty," you mom says. Blood rushes to your face as you look at Steve and he nods.

"No," you laugh.

"You do," Steve answers.

"See?" your mom says. You shake your head and laugh again, putting on your shoes.

When you settle into Steve's car, expecting him to start the engine, you realize he's staring at you instead.

"You really do look beautiful," your boyfriend says softly. The look in his eyes makes you believe him.

"Thanks, so do you," you say with a laugh. There's really no other way to describe him. Steve styled his hair into easy tousles and is dressed in black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt - looking the part for a metal concert.

"If at any point, it gets too loud or too crowded or anything, just tell me," he says, eyes travelling over your face. Flowers bloom in your chest as you look at Steve. You hold your hand out to touch him and press your palm against his cheek. He lightly nuzzles his jaw into your touch and his stubble grazes on your fingers.

"Thank you," you tell him sincerely. "And I can do my cheek on chest thing?"

"Oh, goes without saying," Steve says. "I love the cheek on chest thing." You giggle, thinking about your weird little routine that only you two know about. You wouldn't change a thing about your sappiness.

After picking up Robin, you arrive at the venue only a half hour away. When you exit the car, you can hear the music from inside the building, and instead of getting nervous, you feel excited jitters.

"I should've invited her," Robin mutters as the three of you walk towards the venue.

You and Steve share a look, knowing exactly what she's referring to. Steve had been trying to encourage Robin to invite her crush Vicky to the concert for a week. She had shot down the idea every time - until now.

"And that's why you should listen to me next time," Steve complains.

"I'm convinced I'm never gonna have the guts," Robin says. "I screwed up. I totally screwed up."

"Well, I told you so," Steve says with a shrug.

You've been around Robin long enough now that you feel comfortable talking to her, so you open your mouth.

"For what it's worth, you probably couldn't really talk to her in there anyway," you console her. "It's loud."

Robin looks up and considers your point, then nods.

"I like your girlfriend better than you," Robin states to Steve. You laugh.

"Eh, so do I," Steve says with a toss of his hand.

After handing your tickets to the bouncer, you enter the loud venue and immediately feel Steve's hand find yours. He interlaces his fingers with yours and you slowly step into the crowd facing the stage.

A band seems to be finishing a song, the drummer going wild and the lead singer belting out a loud note. Sure enough, they end their song and the crowd explodes with applause and screaming.

Even with the volume, the electric energy of the crowd is fascinating.

You glance over at Steve then at Robin, who's standing on the other side of Steve, sharing smiles. The zooming lights pass over Steve, highlighting his handsome features.

Sure enough, the singer thanks the crowd, and the band begins to unplug and remove their instruments.

"Eddie should be next, I think," Robin says over the sound of the crowd talking. "What if they suck? Do we lie and say they were great to be good friends? Or would good friends be honest?"

You laugh, envious of Robin's ability to say whatever she thinks.

"Harrington, no way!" you hear. You step back, letting go of Steve's hand and looking up at the man clambering towards you. Two others follow him.

"Timmerman?" Steve exclaims. He gives him a half handshake, half-hug, laughing. "What are you doing in town?"

"Parents' 25th anniversary, they're having a whole thing," the man says with an eye roll. "It's tomorrow but I got in today so I figured I didn't want to just be bored at home all night." He notices you.

"This is (Y/N), my girlfriend," Steve says, motioning to you. "And my friend, Robin."

"Mike and Cody," Timmerman says, motioning to his friends behind him, who give uninterested waves.

"We were on the basketball team together," Steve tells you, motioning between himself and the man.

"What are you up to these days?" Timmerman asks.

"Just working, still figuring it all out," Steve says. He's also saving the world and fighting monsters every chance he gets, but you understand why he doesn't mention that part. "How's college?"

"Fucking amazing, dude," his old teammate answers. "You planning on going?"

"Not sure yet," Steve answers.

"You?" he asks Robin.

"One more year," she says.

"You?" he asks. You freeze. He's staring right at you. You can only shrug.

"Yes? No?" he presses, chuckling. You only shrug again, your anxiety blocking you and making your brain feel empty.

"Same as me," Steve says.

"She not much of a talker?" Timmerman asks, looking to Steve, and even though his tone is light and his smile genuine, it makes your stomach drop.

Steve looks over at you and can immediately tell you're uncomfortable. His fierce sense of protectiveness kicks in and he puts his hand at your waist, gripping it gently.

"Alright, be nice, man," Steve says, and even though he has a forced smile on his face, his tone is serious.

"Just asking," he answers with a judgmental look.

"Learn how to ask nicer," Steve replies. "See you around."

Timmerman gives a tight, disingenuous smile and widens his eyes before turning on his heels and leaving with his friends. You had seen that exact look so many times growing up - the look that says someone thinks you're weird or odd or wrong in some way.

The crowd erupts in cheers and the three of you turn around to look on stage. Sure enough, Eddie is waving to the crowd, dopey smile on his face.

"Think he's looking for us?" Robin asks with a chuckle.

"Probably," Steve answers. His hand still at your waist, your boyfriend dips his head to speak.

"That guy was always kind of a dick," Steve mumbles. You look up into his warm eyes.

"I'm sorry I don't talk more," you say. "Conversation just doesn't come easy-"

"It's not something you need to apologize for," Steve reassures you. You hear cymbals crashing at the front of the room, and the band begins to send piercing sound waves of drums and guitars throughout the building.

"I love you how you are," Steve continues, getting closer to you and speaking in your ear, his breath hot on you. "All I care about is that you talk to me, okay?"

Steve's cheek is against yours, and you can smell his hairspray. It's become a familiar, comforting scent.

"Doesn't it get tiring? Being with me?" you ask impulsively. You're not sure if it's the noise and the fact that you can barely hear yourself think, but you begin to spill out the deepest, darkest anxieties that you hardly ever even recognize yourself. “How long until you feel like I'm a chore to you?" 

Steve pulls back, eyes searching you like he'll find the answer to why you're asking this on your face.

He looks heartbroken and mouths what? as he stares at you. You look so small, so vulnerable, and it’s a kick to the gut to him.

Steve comes close again, his jaw against your cheekbone.

“Want to go outside?” he asks. You shake your head ‘no.’ Something about the thrashing music and the inability to hear your own thoughts gives you a sense of clarity; a real look at the ugly thoughts your anxiety gives you.

“Nothing about being with you is tiring,” Steve says. You wait for a ‘but’. It doesn’t come. “I don’t give a shit what people like that idiot think. You’re perfect to me.”

“But you always have to reassure me like this and-”

“And what?” he interrupts. “I’ll remind you how much I love you and how safe you are with me a million times a day. You do feel safe with me, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe, letting the comfort of his words wash over you.

“You’re not a chore. You are never a chore.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just... wasn’t so shy?”

“No,” Steve says. “You are perfect.”

“I love you,” you say over the music. “Can I do the cheek to chest thing now? I want to feel your heartbeat.”

You feel Steve’s warm breath on your neck as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Is that why you like doing it?” He pulls back just to look at your expression. You smile in a way that he can only describe as angelic. Steve pulls you in tightly and turns towards the stage so that you can watch the show and feel his calming, steady heartbeat.

The word "normal" means nothing to you. It never has.

You had grown up staring at white walls, playing games of chance, and being subjected to test after test after test.

When you escaped from the laboratory with Eleven, you didn't know what was coming your way, but you knew anything was better than the prison you'd two been living in.

You'd been introduced to everyone then, from the young kids who had first given you shelter, to the older siblings and adults, who had fought alongside you.

You'd been envious of Eleven's ability to create connections with the new people you had met. Even with all the help you'd received, you were much slower to trust. You had an inkling that it was because you were older than Eleven, and had grown out of the childhood naivety she still seemed to have.

But naivety wasn't the right word. Hope was.

El had the ability to move things with her mind and see things without being there, whereas you had to touch things to use your power. When you contacted a thing or a person, you could search their history, learn the truth about them, feel what they feel. And you could change their emotions in the blink of an eye, but that took a considerable amount of energy.

You didn't like using your powers on people. Things were okay, but people? You didn't feel right digging and travelling through their minds.

After the grueling battle with the Demogorgon, with El fighting the monster and you keeping your hand to the portal to tell her its every next move, Hopper took both of you in and you were in hiding for nearly a year together. It was hard for Eleven. She had gotten close with her new friends and was desperate to get back to them.

You, on the other hand, were just happy to have a home. Hopper and Eleven were the only people you truly trusted. You thought fondly of those who helped you - one person in particular - but didn't have the same urge to reunite with them that Eleven did.

It wasn't until after Eleven had ran away and returned, allowing a chance for you to come face to face with the others in Hawkins who you'd previously tackled the Upside Down's creatures with, that you realized how much you actually did miss everyone.

Including Steve. Especially Steve. God, there was something special about that boy.

When Steve watched you walk through that door at the Byers home, his heart nearly stopped.

Nearly a year. A year. He thought you were dead and seeing you in the flesh, looking around the room, seemingly nervous, made him want to wrap you in his arms.

But he didn't have that right. The two of you had barely spoken. But even when he reminded himself of that, he had an impulse to be near you, to protect you.

He tried to chalk it up to the break-up. Nancy had just dumped him, so maybe he was just eager to find love?

But he knew that wasn't the case. Not with you.

When you’d entered the room, you met his eyes and felt a pull to him. But you ignored it, figuring it was just sentimentality, and you quickly left with Eleven and Hopper to close the gate.

At the end of that exhausting and dreadful night, everyone reconvened at the Byers home.

A group of you had scrounged up a meal with what you could find in the kitchen, then moved to the living room to eat together. After the late dinner, full of overlapping conversations that you preferred to listen to than join, you stepped outside on the front porch, waiting for Hopper and El so that you could get back to his cabin. To your home.

You breathed in the night air, the sounds of crickets filling your ears.

Steve had noticed you slip out through the door. In fact, he'd noticed you all night with that faraway look in your eyes. He took the risk of rejection and followed, finding you standing outside in the hot summer night, gazing ahead at the front yard and beyond.

"Hi," he simply said.

You looked over at the man, dried blood splotched on his handsome face. He had a black eye and a swollen lip. It was obvious he had been beaten to a pulp.

He shut the door behind him.

"Hi," you echoed, surprised to see him out there. Had he felt drawn towards you like you did towards him? "What happened?" You vaguely motioned at your face. You'd noticed the second you got back that he had obviously been in some sort of fight.

Steve half-frowned, pacing to stand about a foot away from you, facing the front yard to mirror you.

"This guy Billy," Steve said, waving a hand and seemingly trying to downplay the fight. "You can see for yourself, right?"

Steve had been intrigued by your abilities - he'd heard about them but never saw them in action and for some reason, he trusted you enough to be a guinea pig. He held out his hand, looking at you with curious eyes.

You gave a small smile, holding his hand, which was calloused from swinging his bat around, and closed your eyes, focusing on what had happened that night and that night only. You didn't want to risk digging into anything else - nothing personal, nothing you weren't invited to see.

You were plunged into the fight with Steve and a blonde man, feeling Steve's anger and protectiveness over the kids he was babysitting. You felt every punch, both given to and given by Steve.

You watched his memory through your eyes - waking up in the car discombobulated, Max driving, Steve shouting.

Suddenly, you had caught a glimpse of this evening, and felt Steve's worry... for you. He was drawn to you, concerned for you, and you quickly let go with a gasp, feeling wrong for seeing that far. You didn't mean to.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

You wiped the dribble of warm blood from your nose, and nodded quickly, unable to hold back the smile growing on your face at the knowledge that Steve was interested in you.

"Max drove, huh?" you mumbled with a smile.

"Yeah, did you see me freaking out?" Steve said, impressed as all hell that you could see that without him saying a word. You nodded, smile still on your face, in confirmation.

"It's really good of you to have watched the kids like that," you say, admiring him. You'd just felt the intensity of his steadfast determination to take care of them.

"Lost a fight doing it," Steve joked, smiling through the pain of his fat lip.

"Looked like a tie to me," you said. Steve gave you a sweet chuckle. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see it but..." you began. "You're worried about me?"

Steve's eyes darted away and he let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

"I know it's stupid," he said. "I bet you’re a thousand times stronger than me. You could kick my ass if you wanted to." You smirked, looking back out into the night sky, arms crossed.

"It's not stupid," you said. You looked back at the messy-haired boy. "It's sweet."

He finally met your eyes again, the nervous blush in his cheeks apparent. It sent another pang of guilt through you.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to see... that far," you admitted. "This is why I don't really read people. Good people, I mean."

Hearing himself described as "good" made Steve's chest warm with delight.

"I don't think it's right to poke around in their head," you continue. "I just tried to focus on that fight but... my concentration kind of sucks right now."

"Hey, I invited you in here," Steve said, pointing to his temple. The two of you shared a chuckle and you realized you really, really liked being in Steve's company.

"So you know what I think about you? Just from touching me? That's unreal," Steve said, more so impressed than anything. "Remind me to never lie to you."

His childlike amazement in your abilities was pretty endearing.

"You're safe," you said with a smile that Steve could only describe as adorable. "I only do it with permission."

Steve dug his hands into his pockets and tried to shoo away the butterflies in his stomach, mentally telling himself to be cool.

"Are you going to still be living at Hopper's?" he asked.

"Yeah," you told him. "I guess not in hiding anymore, though."

Looking at him, you had felt his genuine interest in you, and could already tell that he'd become someone you'd be able to trust.

"How's that?"

"It's..." How do you describe it? How could you explain just how different it is from the torture you endured at the lab? You felt a tightness in your throat as you thought back on how you'd been saved by Hopper.

"It's home," is what you finally settled on.

The front door creaked open and you both shot your eyes towards the noise to see Hopper with one foot out on the porch.

"There you are," he said with relief. You didn't miss the glare he gave Steve. "We're leaving."

You gave Steve a small smile and left with Hopper and El. You couldn't stop thinking about Steve after that. And he couldn't stop thinking about you.

Within a week, life had gotten better. You were no longer in hiding. You started actually going outside. The first time El and Max went to the mall, you joined them, feeling like a babysitter kind of like Steve did.

When you walked through the massive building and passed Scoops Ahoy, your heart leapt at the vision of Steve behind the counter.

"Ooh, ice cream!" Max said. "Come on, let's haggle Steve for a discount."

You giggled, following the excited girls into the ice cream parlor. Steve handed an ice cream cone to the customer in front of you, then when he met your eyes, he felt two things: elation and embarrassment. He was so happy to see you. But man, he hated how he looked in his dorky uniform.

He didn't know that you found it extremely cute.

"Hey," he said, looking at you and only you.

"Hi." It'd been a week since you had your conversation at the Byers house, but if felt like it's been ages.

"Rocky road in a cone, please," Max said. "And...?"

"Me too,” El said. They both looked up at you.

"Oh, I'm okay," you said, out of sorts.

"It's on the house," Steve said quietly with a little jerk of his head.

"What the hell?" Max asked. "You always say you can't do that because you'll get in trouble."

Steve raises his eyebrows, looking down at the young redhead.

"(Y/N) is... a first-time customer," he stammered.

"Yeah, so was I and I still had to pay," she argued.

"Well, that's because you're rude," Steve told her. You and El laughed at their bickering.

You interrupted with your favorite ice cream flavor.

"In a cup, please," you said with a smile. He smiled back and in that moment, you wished you could break your own rules just for a second and touch him to see if he felt the same giddy way that you felt.

After getting your ice cream, the three of you sat at a booth. Steve stole glances at you from across the counter the whole time, completely infatuated and getting several orders wrong.

Going to the mall became a regular hobby of yours. You let Max and El know they could go enjoy themselves; seeing their friendship bloom was endearing to you.

This, of course, gave you an opportunity to go to Scoops Ahoy as much as possible. Even with your history of being afraid to trust people, there was something about Steve that pulled you in and assured you that he was someone worthy of trust.

You'd met Robin and became good friends with her and Steve, which led to them treating you like a fellow employee, inviting you to hang out in the break room when the manager was gone and eat as much ice cream as you wanted.

Over the next month, your feelings for Steve had grown. You seldom had opportunities to be alone with him and it was borderline painful.

Finally, one day, you had the courage to write the phone number to the cabin on a piece of paper. Once you got the opportunity to speak to Steve privately - Robin was helping customers and he was stocking new cups in the back - you walked up to him and handed him the small parchment.

"If you ever want to talk," you said shyly.

Steve looked down at the paper with a dopey grin.

"Yeah, I do," he said. You nervously smiled and left the ice cream parlor.

He called you that night. Hopper had left, vaguely telling you and El that he had "something to do", and El took the opportunity to invite Max over for a sleepover.

You and El had shared a bedroom, but with Hopper gone, you took the phone to his bedroom, and when it rang, you shut the door. You could hear El and Max talking and giggling from a room away, and made a mental note to speak at a low volume.

"Hello?" you said.

"(Y/N)? It's Steve." His voice made you smile already.

"Hi."

"I first just want to say that I'm a wuss."

"What?" you laughed.

"I've been thinking about asking you out for... a long time," he said. "But obviously you had to make the first move."

He didn't want to say it, but flirting with girls hadn't exactly been hard for Steve in the past. But there was something about you that made him so cautious, so determined on doing everything perfectly.

"I don't know," you said. "I think that night at Will's house... you made the first move by coming out and talking to me. Plus you fight monsters. You're no wuss."

"How are you the nicest girl in the world?" Steve whispered. You smiled to yourself.

"You think that?" you asked.

"I know it."

You put your hand on your stomach, as if the action could slow down the warm, fuzzy feeling Steve gave you.

"So, how was the rest of your shift today?" you asked.

The conversation went from light surface topics - how your days went, to what Steve's introduction to the kids was like, to how infuriating and wonderful those kids were - then just as slowly as the night fell, the topics had gotten heavier and more serious.

When the conversation had slowly taken a turn to discuss the Upside Down, you could hear Steve's smile disappear from his tone.

"What was it like?" he asked.

He didn't have to say "the lab". You knew that's what he meant.

"Even though it was the same thing over and over... I don't know, it somehow got even worse every day," you told him honestly. You described the horrific scene the day you and El had escaped, and Steve listened on the other end, his heart tightening at your story.

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly. "I'm sorry you were put through that."

So were you. You were robbed of a normal life. You saw orderlies in the corner of your eye everywhere you went. You saw monsters in your nightmares, ripping you apart.

"I'm happy now," you told him. And you were being honest. At that moment, Steve silently made a promise to himself to do all he could to keep you happy.

After you had spoken about your childhood, you asked Steve about his. He shared the good first, but when he began to speak about the bad, his voice was quieter.

"It wasn't all great," Steve said. "But compared to what you had to go through, what so many people have to go through, I know how lucky I am."

"You can feel lucky and unlucky at the same time," you told Steve. "We don't need to compare. Please tell me."

Hearing that made Steve feel like you truly were the kindest soul in the world.

"I was a pretty lonely kid," he admitted. "You know that cliché that's like 'even when they're there, they're not there'? It was like that with my mom and dad all the time." Sadness filled you as Steve spoke. "I don't know, I feel like I barely know them. And they barely know me."

"Well, they're missing out," you said.

"What, on my pity party?" he asked. You shared a laugh.

"That does sound lonely, Steve," you said after a beat of silence.

"Well, like you, I'm happy now," he said.

The conversation continued, and when he joked, he made you laugh like nobody could, causing your cheeks to hurt for smiling too much.

When you finally couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, you told Steve the disappointing news.

"I should sleep," you said.

"It's not even that late, is it?" Steve asked. Your heard his mattress creak on the other side of the line. "Holy shit, it's 2 am."

You laughed together, then let a comfortable silence settle between you. You had been talking for hours.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"I've been at Scoops way too much," you joked, hoping he'd tell you he still wanted you there. He did.

"Too much doesn't exist," he said. "Please come. If you can."

You giggled.

"I can."

Peace had been shattered the very next day when the Mind Flayer returned, and to make matters worse, Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Erica had disappeared before you got to deliver on your promise to Steve that you'd see him at Scoops Ahoy.

On the night of the Starcourt fire, you had arrived at the mall with the kids and Jonathan and Nancy, determined to kill the monster once and for all.

When you had finally reunited with the missing four who you had later learned had been deep beneath the mall, your heart leapt. You ran to Steve, who gaze was on the ground. When he noticed you, he took in a big breath, his nerves calming immediately.

"What happened? Where were you?" you ask, hands on Steve's cheeks. Your grip was light so not to hurt him. His soft hair brushed against your fingertips.

His eyelids were low; he was exhausted and swollen and beat up. You were so worried about him, but so happy he was standing in front of you, alive.

You could feel the others' eyes on you, but you didn't care. Robin finally beckoned the others away to give you privacy, and you heard them chattering behind you.

"You can check," Steve said, putting a warm hand overtop of yours as it rested on his cheek. "Everything. You have permission."

So, you did. Eyes closed, your mind travelled through his and dove in what had happened that night. An elevator crashing down. A brutal and violet soldier. A forced drugging. A narrow escape.

"Oh, Steve," you groaned, feeling your lip quivering.

You felt his agony, his fear, and his yearning for you. He sat tied up in that chair, taking punch after punch, thinking about you to gain some semblance of solace. You so badly wanted to feel more, but it felt intrusive, so you willed your mind to stop and opened your eyes to meet his.

"I'm so glad you're okay," you whispered.

He rose his hand, swiping the blood that had fallen from your nose off of your upper lip.

"We match," he said, holding his thumb in front of you, your blood smudged on it. How he could make jokes at a time like this was beyond you, but it was part of the reason you liked him so much.

"I'm sorry that happened," you said, palms still on his cheeks. "I can make you feel better. With..." You raised your hands off his face. "With these, if you want." You both chuckled.

"Please," he groaned. You put your hands back on his cheeks and focused, giving him hope, bravery, and happiness. He needed the first the most. It drained you of your already low energy, but he was worth it.

"Wow, thank you," he whispered, stepping a little closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours. "Thank you,” he said again. "How are you?"

"Better now," you said honestly.

"Same," he said with a chuckle.

"Hate to interrupt, lovebirds, but we kind of have a monster to kill!" a voice had called. You turned back to see Erica with the group ten feet away, her hands on her hips.

You couldn't help but smirk, leaning back, staring at Steve.

"To be continued," you said, lowering your hands.

The battle was grueling, but the Mind Flayer had been defeated. By the time the flames had grown and licked the night sky, you were all safely out of the mall, being looked at by paramedics.

Steve had been patched up and taken care of and immediately went looking for you. Sure enough, you were sitting on the back of an ambulance, getting some cuts on your face cleaned and bandaged.

He took a second to look at you, wrapped in the metallic-looking safety blanket and looking beautiful as ever. When the paramedic left your side, Steve paced over, sitting next to you, his own blanket draped around him.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." Even with your exhaustion, you could never be too tired to smile at him.

"Can we continue now?" Steve asked.

"What?"

"You said to be continued," he explained.

"Oh," you giggled. "Yeah, we can."

"I think where we left off, we were about to kiss," he whispered. Butterflies in your stomach went mad.

"Were we?" you teased. He only nodded adorably.

You inched closer, sharing your first kiss with Steve Harrington, gentle to not hurt his lip. Everything about it was perfect. Since then, the two of you had been inseparable.

Now, Vecna had been terrorizing Hawkins, shattering the peace yet again. Hopper had been presumed dead and Eleven had left for California, leaving you alone in the cabin with a massive piece missing from your heart. Now, innocent people were dying at the hands of this creature.

After you, Steve, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Nancy, and Robin arrive at Victor Creel's house, you think that even if you didn't have your abilities, you'd still feel the dark, sinister energy within the building.

You enter the dusty, grand home, eyes travelling over the old furnishings.

"There's the clock," Max says. "I saw it when..." She didn’t have to finish her sentence.

The group of you pace towards the grandfather clock, frozen in time. Robin runs a hand over the glass surface of the face of it, shifting the dust.

"It's stuck," Steve says.

"What, you expected it to be working?" Dustin asks him. You shoot Dustin an unimpressed look, and he puts his hands up in surrender, sighing.

Steve notices and he gives you a small grin. You don't like anyone messing with your boyfriend, not even Dustin.

You step in front of the clock, hand stretched out, before Steve steps in front of you, blocking you.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Steve asks. "If Max saw it in her visions, maybe... I don't know, it's got some whacko powers or something."

"Your girlfriend has whacko powers, too," Dustin says.

"Nothing about her is whacko," Steve says, pointing in the air.

"I'm a little whacko, it's okay, Steve," you say, gripping the end of his shirt between your fingers and smiling. "If we want to get to the bottom of this, we need to learn more about Vecna's connection to this place, right?"

You knew that look on Steve's face: he so badly wanted you to reconsider, but he knew you'd do what was best. What was kindest. That's why he loved you.

"I'm right here," he whispered, squeezing your hand and getting out of your way.

As soon as your fingertips made contact with the clock, you were plunged into horror. You were taken through a flashback of Henry Creel, a troubled and cruel little boy. You watch as he kills animals, torments his family, and murders his sister and mother.

Meanwhile, to the others, you'd been standing at the clock, eyes closed, silent. Nearly an entire minute had passed, but it was seconds to you.

"Okay, that's been long enough," Steve says, holding onto your wrist. You're unresponsive. He grips tighter, but you’re suspended in another world, eyes still shut. "She's never been out this long," he says, tone concerned as he looks to the group.

In your mind, you suddenly see Brenner. It shocks you. The vision takes you through a spine-chilling realization. Vecna is Henry. And Henry was one of Brenner's subjects - just like you.

"What are you doing here?" a raspy, terrifying voice rings through your ears. You feel his presence flood your brain like a poison, going into every crevice.

You’re in the Creel house, in the same spot in front of the clock, but back in time in the night when Henry had killed his family. You turn and you watch the young boy coming down the stairs, turning into the horrifying monster it is now with every step.

"Oh my God," you mutter. Vecna finds his way in your mind - the violation makes you scream. 

But on the outside, to your boyfriend and your friends, you’re quiet and still.

“(Y/N), come back! Please,” Steve whines as he gets between you and the clock again, holding your hand tightly. Your eyes remain shut. “Can you hear me?” he half-shouts.

“You were a subject too?” Vecna growls to you. You feel him slipping into your memories of the lab. “That’s how you got in here. In my mind. Well, you’re not welcome!” The last words are screamed at you and you can’t move as Vecna screeches inches away from your face.

You will all your strength, all your power to pull yourself out of the daze. As you struggle and shake, feeling your insides twist, a voice becomes louder. It’s Steve’s.

“(Y/N), please!” he shouts. At this point, his hands are on your face, and he’s doing anything, anything he can. He plants gentle kisses on your still lips, pulls you in tightly, keeps talking. “Please, please, come back.” It’s like hugging a statue.

Half of the group members are frantically shouting your name, too, while the other half are running around the house, desperate to find anything that could help you. Steve pulls back to look at you again, and he notices the blood trickling down your nose.

Your eyes suddenly fly open, but the effort you’ve put into pulling yourself out of the memory makes you see black and faint immediately. Steve catches you before you hit the ground.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself bouncing in Steve’s arms. He’s cradling you and panting as he runs outside, and you slowly open your eyes to notice he’s running away from the Creel house.

He looks down at you and when he notices you’re awake, his breath hitches.

“Oh my God,” Steve says, relief thick in his voice. “Are you okay?”

You’re confused, lost, and look around to see he’s arrived at his car. Dustin opens the passenger side door so that Steve can gently place you inside. 

“We were about to go to the hospital,” Steve says. “You passed out.”

“What did you see?” Nancy asks.

“Give her a second,” Steve says, kneeling down on the ground outside the BMW, clasping your hand. You stare down at him, at his brown-green eyes, slowly coming back to reality. Steve’s eyes are glassy, his chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he’s looking at you like he almost lost his own life.

You look at your boyfriend sympathetically. He’s seconds away from tears.

“Don’t give me that look,” Steve says, a little smirk on his face. He knows you well enough to know you’re feeling sorry for him, and it’s amusing to him that he’s the one getting sympathy right now. “You’re the one who just... did that.”

You mirror his smile. Relief fills you when you realize you were able to pull yourself out of the vision.

“Did what?” you ask.

“You were like... a statue or something,” Dustin interjects.

“For how long?” you ask, head pounding.

“Like a full minute, at least,” Robin says.

“Maybe even longer,” Nancy adds.

“Definitely longer,” Lucas says.

“Did you see him?” Max asks. You meet her eyes and nod your head solemnly.

“Vecna, he’s...” You swallow hard. “He’s Victor’s son. He’s Henry. And he was in the lab. Like me and El.”

The truth settles on everyone in the group, thick and discordant. 

“He’s the one who killed them. And he... he screamed at me for being in his mind. In his memories. He went into mine, too,” you rambled, bringing a shaking hand to your head.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” You look up to see Dustin staring at you seriously. “We know who he is - or who he was - and now, we’ll figure out how to stop him.” All six of your friends nod, giving you compassionate, grateful looks.

You offer a small smile, looking down at your lap.

“Let’s call it for today, huh, guys?” Steve says, posing it like a question even though you know it’s a statement. In Steve’s book, his girlfriend has been through enough today.

Your head heavy, you put your seatbelt on and let your eyes close so you can sleep away the fatigue.

The sound of a car door closing is what pulls you out of your slumber. 

Your eyelids flutter open and you gauge your surroundings to see that you’re in front of Steve’s home. You watch as Steve rounds the car and when he opens the door and sees you’re awake, he gives you a tender smile.

"You woke up just in time,” he says softly.

You undo your seatbelt and step outside into the warm afternoon. Steve takes your hand and shuts the door behind you, still afraid for your stability, and you walk towards the massive Harrington house.

“Did everyone go home?” you ask.

“Mostly,” he says. “Dustin and Lucas and Max got dropped off together - plotting for our next move, no doubt. Nancy and Robin went separately and I bet they’ll meet them, too.”

“Should I help?”

“You heard Dustin,” Steve says, putting the key into the door and unlocking it. “You helped so much, (Y/N). I think you’ve done enough today.”

You entered the empty home and he led you to the first seat available, which was the couch in the front room. He was petrified that you’d fall again.

To Steve, you were and always are the top priority. He feels immense guilt for what the trip to the Creel house had done to you. And he doesn’t even have to say it out loud for you to know.

“You tried to stop me, Steve,” you console him. He sits next to you and you face each other on the plush, white couch. You put a hand on his knee. “I knew the risk and I’m glad I took it.”

He wants to say he’s not glad, but he feels selfish for even thinking it.

Steve swallows hard, looking down at your hand and slowly squeezing your fingers, one by one, a habit he had long ago developed. Your eyes travel his face, looking at the beauty spots you’ve memorized.

“What did it feel like?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“Like... my mind was broken into,” you tell him. “I can’t believe I was able to get out of there.”

“I can,” Steve says, looking up to meet your gaze. “You have no idea how strong you are, do you?”

You smile, tilting your head.

“You still think I’m a thousand times stronger than you?” you ask. He smiles, leaning down to go from squeezing each finger to kissing them and thinking back to that night when you had had your first conversation.

“A million times stronger,” he says. You feel his lips on your knuckles, his warm breath on the back of your hand.

“I heard your voice in there,” you tell him. “You helped pull me out, you know that?”

Steve’s head perks up, eyes swimming with adoration.

“Really?” he asks. You nod. “I don’t ever want to see you like that again. I’m sorry if that makes me selfish.”

“I know, Stevie,” you say, the nickname making him melt. “You’re not selfish for that. I love you.”

“Say it again,” Steve mumbles into your hand. You smile, used to this routine of his. He loves hearing those three words from you. You lean in, lowering down to nuzzle your face into his neck, your hand on the back of his head.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you whisper into his hair.

“I love you,” he says back, holding you tightly with no plans to let go anytime soon.

You know that this is just the beginning of a journey that’ll be full of pain and troubles, but you’ve never felt more hopeful of your ability to survive it than you do right now.

---

The first headache Steve had gotten was on a Monday afternoon. He was working a solo shift at the video store and doing his least favorite part of the job: calling people to remind them about overdue rentals.

After dialing up and calling the first number, a sharp lighting bolt of pain felt like it cracked his skull and he held his hand up to his temple.

"Hello?" the other person on the end answered.

Steve kept his hand to his head, reeling.

"Hello?" they asked again. Steve hung up, hunching over, and wincing. What a killer headache.

His mind jumps to what had happened only a month ago. But no. Vecna is gone. There's no way that's it.

The doorbell jingle pulls him out of his state and he looks up to see Dustin strolling in with a big smile on his face.

"Someone's happy," Steve says.

"Just got off the phone with Suzie," Dustin explains. "She made it to Nebraska."

"Ah, so that's the 'dope in love' smile," Steve teases. Dustin makes it to the counter, elbows on the tabletop, face in his hands.

"Joke all you want," Dustin replies. "You get the same face when (Y/N)'s around."

As if you planned to enter at the perfect time, you come into the video store, smiling as soon as you see your boyfriend of six months and his honorary son-slash-little brother.

"Speaking of," Dustin says.

"Gossiping about me?" you ask. You make it to the desk and lean over the counter to give Steve a peck on the lips, hovering for a second after just to smile at each other.

When you straighten up, you look down at Dustin.

"What, no 'get a room' comments?" you ask, used to his teasing.

"He's in... his Suzie state," Steve says, smiling at the young boy, endeared to see him so happy.

You and Dustin had come from opposite directions to the store to discuss final details for the trip you'd be leaving for tomorrow. A few days ago, during one of your phone calls late at night, Steve had told you about the plan.

"So, Dustin comes into the store today..." he began.

"And what did your son want?" you asked with a smile.

"A ride to Nebraska to see his girlfriend. Apparently she's visiting family there."

"God, they're adorable," you laughed. "Isn't her family super strict? How'd that happen?"

"He apparently begged," Steve told you. "That's a nine-hour car ride. He wants to spend his spring break in a car for 18 hours in total just to see her for one day. That's all they agreed to - one day at their house. Love makes you do crazy things."

"Tell me about it," you said, thinking back to fighting demobats and Vecna in the Upside Down with Steve and your friends just a month ago.

"So, since you love me and everything," Steve began, "I was thinking you'd come with?"

Before he even confirmed it, you knew Steve had agreed to do the favor for Dustin. Watching your boyfriend be the kind, caring role model he was for Dustin always made your heart warm with endearment.

"Of course," you said. "Nine hours is a lot of driving. We can split it."

"I love you," Steve replied, the words still feeling a bit new in his mouth. You’d only shared your first I love you’s a few weeks ago. "And he won't say it, but Dustin does, too."

The three of you stand in the empty video store, ready to get to planning. He won't say it, but Steve's head is still pulsating in dull pain.

"So, can we leave at around 11 tonight?" Dustin asks.

"11?" Steve asks. "As in almost midnight? I thought we said tomorrow morning."

"Well, we did, but if we leave in the morning, we only really have an afternoon there," Dustin says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "They said we can come on Tuesday, so if we leave late tonight, we can be there in the morning. My mom already said it's okay. And I called Suzie to be sure."

"So that means..." You did the math in your head. "In perfect traffic with no long stops, we'd be there at about 8 a.m."

"Just in time for breakfast," Dustin says with a big smile, showing his braces.

You and Steve share a look - an overnight nine hour drive is worth it for Dustin's happiness.

After you discussed what to pack and prepare, Dustin excitedly hits his palms on the table.

"I'm gonna go finish packing!" he says, turning to leave.

"You don't want a ride home?" you ask, holding up your car keys.

"Bike's faster!" he calls, opening the door.

"I don't think that's true!" Steve half-shouts.

"It is when you know shortcuts!" Dustin says, giving one last wave and letting the glass door shut behind him.

"And when you've got that much energy," you mumble to Steve, turning to look at him. He shakes his head and smiles. "Eager, huh?"

"So eager," Steve agrees. "You sure you're up for this drive?"

"You know I'd do anything for you two," you say. Steve looks at you lovingly. He won't mention the headache. It's surely nothing and he doesn't need anyone to worry about him.

He stretches out his hand, leaning on the countertop, and you lean in as well to hold it.

The past few months had struck Hawkins with tragedy; three teenagers had died at the hands of Vecna. Everyone in your group had a part to play in killing the monster, but it had not left you unscathed.

You'd only been working at the video store for three months and dating Steve for one when Vecna's terror had began. When you overhead Steve, Robin, and the kids talking about locating Eddie, who was wanted by police, you pressed for information.

Dustin had taken a liking to you immediately. You had jumped in feet-first, eager and determined to save your town and your newfound friends. The battle had been grueling, but Vecna had been taken down and even though Hawkins was still in a raw, tragedy-ridden state, you took comfort in knowing that the monster couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

You hear the bell hanging over the front door ring and turn to see a customer come in. You let go of Steve's hand and stand up straight again.

"I'm gonna go shopping for some snacks," you say. "You know what Dustybun likes?" You both giggle at Suzie's nickname for Dustin.

"Twizzlers," he quickly responds. "And those Hostess pudding pies. But chocolate only. Vanilla always makes his stomach hurt."

"God, you're such a dad," you say with a grin. Steve smiles, despite the headache, actually looking forward to the car ride.

After you leave, Steve is able to dismiss the headache as a coincidence. It could just be fatigue. He brushes it off, refusing to think about it anymore.

Steve arrives home from work at 5 pm that day and decides to get a nap in and rest up for the drive.

But he wakes up an hour in to the feeling of fingers digging into his arms and legs. He opens his eyes to see Russian soldiers yanking him out of bed, shouting indistinctly.

The chair he'd been trapped in beneath Starcourt sits in the corner of his room, and he screams at the horrifying sight, putting all his effort into trying to twist out of his grip. He's unable to get out.

They shove him onto the chair, tightening straps around his wrists and ankles, the material cutting into his skin.

"You thought we wouldn't find you," the soldier says, accent thick and tone menacing. "We haven't forgotten about you, Steve Harrington.”

As Steve struggles, he opens his mouth but can't get a single word out. Another soldier appears out of the shadows, holding a syringe with a long needle. He wants to scream. But he can't.

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat, his alarm blaring. He sits up quickly, slamming the alarm clock quiet. Panting. Ears ringing. Heart pounding.

Could that have been a delusion?

No - it had to be a nightmare. Vecna was dead. The dream must have come up from the worry about his headache earlier today.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Steve is still on edge as he packs the last of his things, knowing that once he sees you, he'll feel better. He says his goodbyes to his parents, who didn't seem to care much that he's leaving, and packs up the car.

Sure enough, when Steve arrives at your home ten minutes to 11:00 as scheduled and sees you standing by your front door with a full duffel bag of food, it brings his aching heart some peace.

You smile at your boyfriend through the window then round the BMW, popping your bag into the trunk. When you slip into the passenger seat, you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi," you say.

"Hi." His smile was sweet - but it wasn't Steve. Your brows furrow.

"You okay?" you ask.

"It's..." He taps a hand on the steering wheel. "I tried to nap after work and just had a shitty sleep."

"I'm sorry," you say, hand on his forearm. "I can take on the majority of the driving, okay? You know I had the day off - slept in a lot so I'm good for a while."

He nods, not sure if sitting in the car with nothing to do is good for his mind. He just needs something to focus on - to just drive.

"It's no problem," he simply says.

He drives down the street towards Dustin's, mind a million miles away.

When Dustin piles into the car, goofy grin on his face, Steve tries to keep up appearances with another forced smile.

You notice the plushie under Dustin's arm and once you realize what it is, you gasp in endearment.

"Aww, is that from The Neverending Story?" you ask.

Dustin proudly holds it up, the stuffed mini-version of Falkor in his grip.

"She loves that movie," he says. "I saved up so much allowance for it."

"Okay, I have to admit that's pretty damn cute," Steve says after a beat, and you share a smile with him.

"Steve, what's wrong?" Dustin asks, immediately noticing Steve's low tone.

God, Steve thinks, can't hide anything from these two.

"I'm good," he lies.

"No, you're not," Dustin says.

"He's tired," you explain. "I offered to drive but..." You motion to Steve in the driver's seat.

"No time to waste," Steve says, reversing out of Dustin's driveway. "We've got two nerds to reunite."

Dustin lightly pushes Steve's shoulder and Steve laughs. He tells himself he’ll be fine.

Mixtapes playing, windows down, snacks eaten, and conversation flowing (mostly between you and Dustin, as Steve is mentally elsewhere), you travel for about an hour before Dustin begins to doze off.

"You sure you don't want me to take over?" you quietly ask Steve.

"Yeah, I'm good," he says.

You let sleep take the reins, and after a deep nap, when your eyelids flutter open, you shuffle in your seat. Dustin softly snores in the backseat and Steve's gaze is fixed on the stretch of freeway ahead of him.

You look at the clock in the car: 3:37 am.

"Hi," you quietly say to Steve as you rouse awake. "You want to stop and let me take over so you can sleep?"

Steve exhales and nods, knowing you're right. He needs to take a break. He's been driving in silence, replaying how saw Vecna die over and over again in his head. But did he really die?

The next exit he sees, Steve gets off the freeway and finds a plaza of closed shops. Steve parks and gets out of the car, stretching.

In the small parking lot of the random American suburban town at three in the morning, Steve gazes around and breathes in the cool air, still trying to shake the feeling his bad dream had given him.

You pop up on the other side of the car, standing and feeling your body reset from sitting for so long. You come around the car, arms stretched forward, and Steve pulls you in for a hug.

You smile, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

"You know she'll leave you," Steve hears from a thick, dark voice. He tenses up, holding you tighter. The voice sounds like it's coming from inside his brain. A lump grows in his throat.

"She'll leave you like everyone else," it seethes. "Your own parents don't even love you. Once people see who you really are, they run. You're nothing."

Steve nuzzles his head into your neck, eyes squeezed shut. He can't look. He's too scared to.

"Hey, you really needed a hug, huh?" you ask. You break him out of the trance and he can only nod. He's finally brave enough to open his eyes, and sure enough, he's in the same parking lot in the middle of the night holding his girlfriend.

"You sure you're okay, Steve?" you ask.

He's wigging out. That's it. Just needs some sleep.

"Just tired," Steve says. "Don't worry about me." He's not worth worrying about, he thinks.

You settle into the driver's seat and tell yourself that it's only less than five hours of driving left. You check the map again, noting your turns, and put on your seatbelt.

Steve settles in the passenger seat after checking on Dustin to see that the boy is still sleeping peacefully. Arms crossed and head tilted towards the window, Steve closes his eyes and hopes for sleep to find him.

Before pulling out of the parking lot, you take a second to look at Steve and smile to yourself. The past six months, although full of scary, otherworldly adventures, had been the best of your life all because of Steve.

You sigh happily, hoping your boyfriend can catch up on the sleep he desperately needs. As you head back onto the freeway, you think back to just a few weeks ago when Steve had told you he loved you for the first time.

It had been a beautiful spring evening - a bit chilly, but nice enough to stargaze at one of Hawkins’ hilltops. Steve had driven you in the very car you were driving now to find that only a couple of other cars had been parked up at the secluded bluff.

He parked and grabbed the thick blanket he had brought along from the backseat, excitedly laying it out on the hood of his car.

The two of you settled on the hood, leaning back on the windshield to look up at the sky. The other cars were far enough away that you couldn’t hear anyone’s conversations but your own.

You gazed lower to the horizon to see the skyline of your small hometown.

“Been here all my life and never even knew you could get a view like this,” you said.

“It’s kind of a hidden gem, I guess,” Steve said.

“It’s really pretty,” you breathed. Steve looked over at your profile, thinking the same thing about you.

The last few months had been amazing with you. He was afraid of falling too hard, too fast and getting his heart broken, but ever since you started working at the video store, he had to accept that he was a goner for you. Thankfully, you felt the same, and when he asked if he could be yours, you happily accepted.

He knew he liked you, but when you joined him and the others to take down Vecna with no hesitation, he realized he loved you. Not only were you beautiful, but you were sweet, smart, and one of the bravest people he’d ever met.

Steve gazed at you, eyes travelling over the small scar lining your chin that had come from a nasty fall in the Upside Down when the demobats had attacked you. His stomach tightened at the memory.

You looked at him and smirked.

“What?” you asked.

“Thinking about what a badass you were in the Upside Down,” Steve admitted. As if you knew he was looking at your scar, you touched your chin to cover it.

“I don’t know about badass,” you joked, “but I do wish was more careful.” Steve smiled, reaching forward and moving your fingers off your chin to expose the scar again.

“That is a reminder of how you saved this town,” he said sincerely. You smiled at him, genuinely feeling better about the permanent mark on your skin.

“You’ve done so much more than I have,” you say. Not long before that, Steve had told you about the events before he met you - the demogorgon, the Russians, and everything in between. You didn’t know how he survived all that in one piece.

You smiled in admiration for him, shifting to get closer to Steve and tilting your head to press your cheek against his shoulder. You stared up at the millions of sparkling dots in the night sky.

Life had been back to normal for the past little while and you were immensely grateful for that. You felt calm, but had no idea Steve was beside you, anxious about getting his next words out.

“Hey, I love you,” Steve finally said. You tilted your head to look up at him, and his warm eyes met yours. Your heart felt like it was leaping through hoops.

“Hey, I love you, too,” you replied with a smile. The weight on Steve’s chest, the worry that you wouldn’t reciprocate, crumbled and disappeared.

When it had gotten too cold to justify staying outside any longer, both of you scuffled back into the car. You’d noticed the other cars had gone, leaving you two to be the only ones on the hilltop. Steve took the blanket and immediately covered you in it. You smiled gratefully.

He turned on the engine and turned the dial up on the heat. The radio announcer was talking about local sports scores while you sat together in the car, looking at the view through the windshield.

You didn’t want to end the night, and neither did he. You shuffled to get close to him again, leaning over the console to kneel on him. Steve’s fingers found your chin and lifted your head. Your lips met his, warming you from the inside out.

The opening notes of Grover Washington, Jr.s’ “Just the Two of Us” spilled through the radio speakers. You had smiled under the kiss and Steve immediately noticed.

“What?” he asked.

“I love this song,” you said. “It always makes me happy.”

“Then I love it, too,” Steve said, turning it up to the max.

“Steve!” you said, laughing, looking around to confirm there were no other cars nearby. Thankfully, it remained as desolate as it was when you’d gotten into the car.

“I can’t hear you, sorry,” he said with a smile and a shrug. You laughed, leaning back in to kiss him, and you kept kissing him until the song ended. And then some.

If you and Steve had “a song,” it was that one. A few days after that night, Steve had bought two copies of the “Winelight” album on tape with that very song at track 5; one for your car and one for his. And he meant it when he said he loved it, too, simply because you told him it always made you happy.

You smile to yourself as you drive down the freeway. Steve seems to have fallen asleep, his chest rising and falling at a slower pace. You catch a glimpse of his sleeping face - lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed, as if he’s concentrating in his slumber. You really had fallen head over heels for this man.

You turn on the radio just low enough to have something to occupy your mind as you drive. A few hours in, you’re met with the slow, orange sunrise. 

Steve shuffles awake, and when he realizes he’d slept without any nightmares or interruptions, he sighs out of relief. He pops his head up and you look over to see his hair sticking in every direction.

“Good morning,” you say softly. He squints as he gains consciousness, rubbing his eyes. “You have the most adorable ‘just woke up’ face ever.”

He chuckles at your compliment, smoothing down his hair. He looks at the car clock: 7:31.

“Wow,” he whispers. “We’re almost there. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Hungry.”

“That little twerp ate everything in the first hour, huh?” Steve says, jerking his head towards the backseat. You try not to laugh too hard.

“Want me to tap in?” he asks, pointing to the steering wheel.

“It’s alright, we’re close enough,” you tell him. “I’ll just need the directions to the house soon because I don’t remember much after this exit.” You point back to Dustin. “Should we just let him sleep and let Suzie wake him up?”

“Oh, he’d love that,” Steve says, stretching his arms out away from his chest, letting out a grunt as he feels his muscles unfold. 

“I actually wouldn’t,” Dustin mumbles from the backseat. “I have a routine. I need to look my best.”

“Good morning, Dustybuns!” Steve exclaims, turning around. Dustin yawns and sits up, craning his neck. Dustin tries to stifle a smile, but can’t. He’s too excited.

Turns out, Dustin’s routine consists of gelling his hair back, changing sweaters, using a splash of breath freshener, then spraying what seems like a gallon of cologne on his clothing.

“Are you trying to knock us out?” Steve asks, opening his window as the fragrance fills the car.

“It’s called romance,” Dustin says.

“A woman does like when a man smells nice,” you add.

“See?” Dustin says.

“I’m never gonna get this smell out of my car,” Steve groans. You laugh at their banter. Soon after, Steve pulls out the map, giving you the last few directions to the house.

When you get to the front door, Dustin raises his hand to knock, but Suzie swings it open, squealing and pulling him in for a hug. It’s pretty adorable. Her reaction when he gives her the plushie is just as cute.

You officially meet Suzie and her family - her withdrawn father (who wasn’t very happy about that hug), quiet mother, kind aunt and uncle, and countless siblings. The house is a circus compared to the quiet car you’d been in for the last nine hours.

You sit down next to Steve at the large breakfast table, politely answering any questions that come up, but most of the meal is spent listening to Suzie’s large family.

While you help put away dishes, you notice Suzie go up to her mother with clasped hands, very obviously asking permission for something. You step closer to try to hear.

“...just for a few hours. Please?” Suzie whines.

You look at her mother who sighs with a hand on her hip.

“Fine,” her mother says. Suzie claps her hands and hops in place.

Soon after, you’re in the car with Suzie, her mother Linda, Dustin, and Steve, after learning that Suzie had just successfully gotten permission to go to the local arcade with Dustin.

Linda clearly had no intention on speaking with you, as when you got to the arcade, she settled at a table and pulled a book out of her purse. You and Steve were fine with that, though, taking the opportunity to have fun at the arcade.

Steve buys tokens for Dustin and Suzie - Linda is already to immersed in her book to think about that part - and buys some for you two, as well. As you travel the large corridors of pin-ball machines and skill-testing games, you loop your arm in his, finally getting a chance to talk alone.

“I lost count of how many siblings Suzie has,” you say, chuckling.

“Right?!” Steve exclaims. “I don’t know how they all remember each other’s names.” You laugh, squeezing his arm. “I don’t think her mom likes us.”

“I don’t think her mom likes anyone,” you answer.

“She...” Steve swallows hard, unsure if he wants to say it, unsure if he wants to open up that can of worms.

“What?” you ask.

“Reminds me of my mom, kind of.” Steve swallows hard, trying to a force a smile at you. You hadn’t met his mother - and quite honestly, were worried to - but had heard enough about her, about both his parents, and how cold and absent they had been his whole life.

“Do you know how amazed I am by you that you went through all that and you still give so much to the people you love?” you ask. “You came all the way to freakin’ Nebraska just for Dustin to see his girlfriend. That kid worships you.”

“Hey, you came, too,” Steve says.

“Only because of you,” you respond with a light nudge in his side. He grins at you, grateful to have someone he can confide in.

Guilt fills him when he remembers he hasn’t confided in you about the headache or the nightmares. He dismisses the thought - he doesn’t want you to worry about something that isn’t even a threat. Vecna is dead. Steve tells himself he’s fine.

Your boyfriend’s eyes light up when he sees a basketball game in the corner.

“Oh, I’m about to kick your ass,” Steve says proudly. You laugh, nudging him as you walk towards the game.

“Not fair,” you say. “You played for years.”

“What do you want me to say? Sorry your boyfriend’s awesome?”

“I need to knock you down a peg,” you say, inserting a token into the game.

Steve kept his promise and won in basketball, but you quickly saved face when you beat him in air hockey. You travelled through the arcade having a blast, later meeting up with Dustin and Suzie to play some team games against them.

When you had run out of tokens, you called it a day, finding Linda right where you left her and heading for the house.

The rest of the day was a blur. You ate an early dinner, watched some TV with Steve - whatever cartoon Suzie’s brothers were watching - and played a passionate game of Monopoly with Suzie, Dustin, and a few other family members.

Steve had another headache come on in the middle of the game, but convinced himself that it was simply from the noise of all the children in the house.

It was 6 pm when you had said your goodbyes. Suzie was holding her Falkor plushie tightly as she bid farewell to Dustin and it made your heart break a little bit.

When you settled back in the car, Steve in the driver’s seat, Dustin sighed longingly as he waved to Suzie from the window.

“Have fun, bud?” Steve asks.

“I’m in love,” Dustin says wistfully. You smile to yourself.

The car pulls out into the road and away from the house, and once you’re comfortably seated, you realize just how tired you are and fall asleep to the sound of Steve and Dustin chatting about the day’s events.

You’re shaken awake and you open your eyes to realize the car has stopped on the side of the road and Steve has woken you up.

You look to your boyfriend to see him holding one hand on his head, the other on your shoulder.

"Can you take over?" Steve asks.

"Of course," you whisper, looking at the clock to see it's 9:30. "You okay?"

"Crazy headache," he admits.

"Can I try driving?" Dustin asks.

"Dream on," you laugh.

You unfasten your seatbelt and open your door, stepping out into the cool spring air. You stopped in a quiet area, only trees lining the road.

Steve steps out too, rounding the back of the car while you round the front, and when you settle into the driver's seat, looking over to the passenger side for Steve to get in, you notice he's stopped right in front of the door, standing still.

You figure he's taking a break to stand, but after a few seconds of silence, you get back out and look at him from across the car roof.

"Hey, your head okay?" you ask.

To you, Steve is still, unresponsive, but in Steve's mind, when he walked around to the passenger side of the car, a Russian soldier was waiting for him.

In the delusion, he gasps and bangs his hand on the top of the car to alert you and Dustin.

"Guys, get out! Get the hell out!" he screams.

He goes to the driver's side to find you and it's empty. Same with the backseat.

"They left you?" the soldier mocks. "What a surprise."

Steve pants, eyes darting around, trying to find you two.

In reality, you run to his side of the car in front of him, seeing the pale, faraway look in his eyes. Oh God. It can't be.

"Steve!" you shout, shaking him. "Please hear me. Please!"

Dustin clambers out of the car, running to face Steve beside you.

"It can't be..." Dustin says, fear thick in his voice. "No. Vecna died. We killed him."

"But did he stay dead!?" you exclaim frantically.

"The tapes! The tapes in the car," Dustin says. "His favourite song - play it!"

In Steve's head, he sees more Russians come out from the woods, syringes in hand. He shakes his head in disbelief, sprinting down the long road, gasping for breath.

He sees an illuminated opening in the woods, and he figures if this is the Upside Down, that gate will be the way back.

He runs harder, legs pumping, and when he reaches the portal, he squeezes through. It's normal. The world looks normal.

But when he turns to go back to the car, he's face to face with Vecna.

"Thought you could kill me? Outrun me?" he growls. "You can't outrun anything. You lonely, lonely boy."

Steve hears himself trembling, stepping back and finding himself pressed against a hard surface. A vine wraps tightly around his knee.

"You failed," the creature hisses. "Just like everything else you do. You failed."

Meanwhile, you're scrambling to find the tape with "Just the Two of Us" on it in the glove compartment.

"(Y/N), can you move any faster!?" Dustin calls.

"Just give me a second!" you screech. To your relief, you find the familiar tape and pop it into the receiver. The tape was left at the end of that song, so you rewind, hands shaking, then press play, blasting the volume.

With the song blasting, you scramble out of the car and stand in front of Steve, gripping his forearms, shaking him.

"Steve!" you call out.

"Steve Harrington!" Dustin screams, his voice wavering. "Come back!"

Steve hears familiar notes playing in his head. He feels a drop of relief in the sea of doom in his chest. He hears your voice - your beautiful voice - singing along to your song.

"To make those rainbows in my mind, when I think of you sometime..." you sing in echoes.

"You can't do anything to me," Steve angrily mutters at the hideous monster. He thinks to the love he has in his life - you and Dustin and the kids never leaving his side, always trusting him.

Steve breaks free, sprinting towards the opening in the distance - this one he knows is the key back to reality.

"Just the two of us, we can make it if we try," you sing, tears flooding your eyes as Steve stares blankly ahead, eyes pale.

Your body is heavy, heart tight, but you and Dustin keep shaking Steve, calling out to him, and finally, his eyes darken with the beautiful hazel colour you'd fallen in love with. He nearly falls to the ground, having you and Dustin hold him up.

He stabilizes himself by putting his hand on the roof of the car, panting, shaking.

"Vec- Vecna," Steve stammers loudly over the music. You and Dustin pull him in for a hug, hearts racing in unison as you hold Steve. You don't let go for a long time.

Dustin dips into the car to shut off the music. You pull back to look at Steve, your cheeks streaked with tears. He looks down at you, pain kicking him from the inside - he's the reason you're crying like this and it kills him.

"Holy shit," Dustin says, breathing heavily. "Did you even see him coming?"

"I guess, I- I-" Steve says. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Didn't want us to worry!?" Dustin yells, slapping Steve's arm.

"Ow!" Steve shouts.

"Sorry," Dustin says quickly.

"I thought he was dead," Steve explains. "And I just - I figured they were only bad dreams!"

You look at your boyfriend, heartbroken.

"Let's get in the car, okay?" you suggest. The three of you settle back into the BMW, with you in the driver's seat, locking the doors as if it could protect you from Vecna. Your blood runs cold at the realization that he's back.

"What happened?" you ask.

"The..." Steve breathes slowly. "The Russian soldiers. They were trying to get me again."

You share a concerned look with Dustin and put a hand on Steve's knee.

"That thing - it really knows your... your fears," Steve continues, stammering as he breathes rapidly. "It was telling me I'll always be alone."

You inch forward to hold Steve again, wishing your touch could dissolve all his worries. You hug tightly and a hot tear wells in your eye.

"You'll never be alone," Dustin says. "I'm always gonna be around to bother you." He reaches from the backseat to join the hug.

"Me, too. We're your people," you say with a light giggle.

"We gonna figure out to kill this thing for good," Dustin mutters. "Now it's personal."

You and Steve chuckle. Dustin's protectiveness over Steve - who's older, bigger, and stronger - is endearing.

As the three of you sit in the car parked on the side of a random road in a random town, Steve feels his fear slowly melt away.

You're in his arms, the girl who saw all the ugly in his life and still decided to love him, and the boy he considers a little brother hugs tightly, too, determined to follow Steve wherever he goes.

Steve's throat tightens as he holds in a sob. He doesn't know what the future holds, but at least he has his people.

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