#stobin fic

You opened your eyes to a blur of darkness and muted gray. No light filtered in through the thick curtains of the Winnebago. Every window was shrouded. The only glow came from the soft ember of the little space heater in the kitchenette, dim and nearly dead.

Your breath caught.

Steve was still curled at your feet, backwards on the cot like a human comma, parallel to you... his arms wound tightly around your calves under the blankets. His eyes were wide open now, face tucked into the crook behind your knees, brows pinched, lips parted just slightly. He was stirring now, just so, both his hands gripping your legs tighter, like he’d heard it too.

Like he’d felt all of it and woke up before you had. 

All of you heard the low rhythmic chop of rotors. One. Maybe two. Or more, you couldn’t tell.

You didn’t say a word.

Neither did he.

No one did.

You slowly, carefully craned your neck up and over the curve of your shared cot, heart stammering with the effort, and spotted Owens sitting upright on the couch a few feet away. His eyes were closed. His head was bowed. His hands were clasped in front of him in dead silent prayer.

That was the second clue. Owens didn’t pray.

Unless it was bad.

Dimitri stood at the door, now unmoving. His entire body tensed like a held breath. Shoulders square. Gun already drawn and steady, the barrel down for now, but ready to raise, aim and shoot. The small window above the sink was cracked open just enough for airflow, and he stood beside it, still as stone, gaze flicking toward the ceiling… toward the sky that couldn’t see you.

Murray remained in the driver’s seat, completely frozen. Not driving. Not monitoring. Just watching. Listening. His jaw flexed hard, his glasses slightly fogged, and his eyes catching every tremor of movement outside the curtain’s edge, his senses heightened to the max.

You felt your heart thud.

Fuck.

Steve hadn’t said a single word. But he was trembling now… barely perceptible, just enough for you to feel it through his grip on both your calves. You pressed your forehead gently against the bunched fabric of his warm sweatpants that now peeked out from under the covers, grounding yourself.

This wasn’t an unconscious nightmare.

It was a real life nightmare.

And it had found the sky.

It didn’t matter that you were buried in the thickest woods in all of Quebec. It didn’t matter that the Winnebago was tucked inside an impossible alcove, foliage hand-cut and manipulated over weeks to make the vehicle practically vanish into the terrain. It didn’t matter that Dingus 1 and Dingus 2, the tanks housing all the others, were parked parallel to one another with precise camouflage netting.

Today, there was flying weather and they were looking.

Drones now, you realized.

Whirring. Lighter pitch. Faster pulses.

Lower to the trees. Sweeping.

You could almost swear you saw a flicker of light move just past the curtained window. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe not.

Steve hadn’t lifted his head. But he had pulled you closer. Tighter. His fingers bunched up the blankets around your ankles like he could anchor you to the earth.

You could feel your pulse thudding under your skin, loud in your ears, but you kept your breathing steady. Because then Owens was there, carefully crawling down from the couch and crouching beside the cot… 

Slowly, painfully slowly…

…pressing two fingers to his lips, then gesturing toward you. He raised his hand and began motioning to you… 

One, two… inhale… one, two, three… exhale…

Paced breathing.

Heart control.

Your gaze met his and held there while you matched the rhythm. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. Just enough not to spike. Not to send you over.

That’s when Murray moved.

Not much. Just… across the length of the Winnebago. He stood slowly, without a word. And then carefully, like each muscle mattered, he lowered himself onto the cot beside Steve’s upper half. And he sat right there. No words, and hardly breathing. Just his unwavering, hushed presence.

Because your uncle would take whatever bullet came yours and Steve’s way if it was the last thing he did.

One large hand of his now settled on top of your blanket covered leg, firm and warm and solid and latched.

The other hand reached down and found Steve’s arm.

Steve didn’t flinch. Didn’t look. But his jaw clenched, and he kept his hand clutched to the back of your thigh, nails digging through the fabric.

The drone buzz grew louder.

Murray bowed his head. Another prayer. Or maybe just a whisper to whatever higher power still existed.

And for a moment? You began to wonder if it was actually being answered. Because at some point, the chopping of helicopters faded in the distance. The whirring of drones seemingly ceased. And it felt like at least ten minutes of the relieving silence had passed and was well on its way to becoming twenty.

But then… another sound crushed the hope.

Not a helicopter.

Not a drone.

Not mechanical 

…not human.

You knew the difference. You knew the sound of men and machines. This sound? It wasn’t either.

This was wrong.

It was animalistic but not from this planet.

It was from another.

Steve’s eyes snapped open wide.

You watched his gaze fly to the ceiling, then toward Owens, then to Dimitri… who was now already swiveling, scanning, silent but alert, gun now raised, safety clicked off, ready to strike…

…and no one said a fucking word.

Because it was here.

You didn’t know what it was.

Demogorgon? Demodog? Something worse?

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t human.

The helicopters, you realized. They hadn’t come for you. Not entirely. At least that wasn’t the only reason for the search.

They came for that.

From the outside, the unmistakable rat-a-tat of gunfire cracked across the treetops in short bursts. Controlled. Like aerial assault.

Downright fucking brutal.

You bit down on your own arm to stop from gasping.

Steve flinched but didn’t move. Murray’s grip on both of you tightened so hard it hurt. Owens lowered himself beside the cot, crouched into the smallest ball he could manage, arms braced around his knees, head pressed against the frame, mouth moving in whispers.

And then the shriek.

You had heard screams before.

You had screamed before.

But this wasn’t a scream. It was a roar, a screech, some multi-tonal shriek from something not of this world. It cut through the woods like a blade. You couldn’t tell if it was in front of you or above you or inside your own fucking head. You pressed your face hard into Steve’s stomach to block it out.

Steve had one hand under your shirt now, fingers spread protectively over your chest like he could keep your heart from exploding.

He was still crying.

Quietly, but without shame.

It was bitter and loathing and angry, and his teeth grit until his teeth felt like cracking. Your own tears flow down your cheeks, a never-ending waterfall.

The sound of helicopter rotors throbbed above now. Then moved off… and then  circled back.

More gunfire.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.

…and then…silence.

Not the good kind.

The bad kind.

The stillness that screams.

Dimitri had not moved from the door. His gun remained raised, muscles twitching, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

Owens slowly sat back on his knees.

Murray didn’t say a fucking word. Just kept his hands on you and Steve, unmoving and praying to whatever God was pissed up there for all of this going down.

Steve was barely breathing… and your entire body was curled into his like a question you didn’t want answered.

Then — click click click — soft, rhythmic.

The walkie-talkie.

Three clicks.

Then four.

Dimitri finally lowered his weapon just enough to reach for it. He returned the pattern, his eyes still locked on the door and the covered windows.

Silence came again. But not for long, before another set of clicks sounded off. Two, pause, three.

Hopper.

Dingus 1.

Safe.

Steve exhaled his first breath in what felt like a year.

Then a second set of clicks. One. One. Four.

Nancy.

Dingus 2.

Also safe.

The woods didn’t make a sound.

Finally, after what felt like a century, Owens nodded once to Dimitri. A silent signal of confirmation.

Murray stood first. Then Owens. Then Dimitri cracked the Winnebago door just enough to peek outside. You stayed pressed against Steve’s chest, his big palm still anchored over your ribs, his other arm looped behind your neck.

The door opened fully.

Hopper was there.

He was motioning silently with one arm, quick and sharp gestures. Time to move.

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline surging so hard you almost lost your balance. Steve gripped you like a lifeline, and the two of you stumbled out together toward the open door.

Outside, the cold hit like a hammer.

All of you ran, swift and silent and wary, across the short stretch of pine and brush and packed mud, straight over to Dingus 1.

No words.

Just motion.

The moment the hatch closed behind you, you heard the breath rush out of everyone.

Robin was already grabbing Steve, holding his face, not really saying anything, just staring at him like she had to count his constellation of moles or else he’d vanish. He wasn’t any better, fiercely pressing her face into the crook of his neck and swaying with her as he kept a firm grip on the back of her head.

“Shit,” they both breathed in unison.

Max clung to you the second you got inside. Her arms wrapped around your waist like she needed to feel your heartbeat. Lucas was next. Then Mike. Then Will. Then Dustin, who didn’t even hesitate before throwing himself into Steve’s arms like a little brother lost at sea, because Steve had already grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled before his kid had even moved to close the distance.

“You good?” Steve asked him, winded and muffled.

Dustin nodded against him. “Y-yeah…”

Eddie had his head in his hands in the corner. Eleven sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide, mouth tight, hands raised faintly but steady. You gently extended an arm out to her, signaling for her to relax and come hug you all.

And as she did, you noticed that you were still crying. Not from fear. Not even from adrenaline. Just from pure relief now.

Because you were all okay.

Somehow, some way, you were all okay.

Outside, the woods were silent again. But this time, you didn’t trust it. And neither did anyone else.

Eddie finally looked up. “What the fuck was that?”

No one answered yet. Because everyone was still just holding each other close, clinging to one another.

Waiting.

Listening.

And thanking whatever angry, righteous God was still up there… that none of you had been found.

Not yet.

Not this time.

But it was close. Too close.

And the next time, you might not be so lucky.

Chapter Seventy A Place to Land

Late March • 1987 DAY 9 (Classified Coordinates) – Late Night

“Alright. If we’re gonna have a family group talk, best we do it now.”

Hopper was the first to speak.

Not loud, not barking. 

Just enough, a low murmur in the belly of the tank. 

His voice barely broke above a whisper, but it held the weight of a command. Not harsh. Just steady. Grounded. Like someone who’d already had the conversation fifty times in his own head and was now forcing it out before the weight buried him.

The group was gathered in DINGUS-1. 

All of you were together.

You’d all piled in like a sardine tin earlier tonight, still high from the adrenaline of the silent, breathless standoff, and none of you had said much then. It was mostly silent eye contact, tear-streaked cheeks, trembling hands, lingering clutches, too many limbs and arms wrapped around too many shaking bodies in too tight a space. 

But now… hours later, with the forest dead quiet again and no new signs of searchlights or shrieking, something had to give.

It wasn’t exactly cramped. DINGUS-1 was a beast. She was gutted, reinforced and retrofitted by Eddie and Argyle into a mobile base. There was enough floor space for you all to sleep eight, if you curled up tight, plus a lockbox full of MREs, a single hotplate, bottled waters, protein bars, and enough caffeine tablets to keep an army twitching.

You weren’t sleeping.

None of you were.

Even the kids, who were curled in sleeping bags along the back benches, were definitely still listening. All six of them. Their eyes were kept squeezed shut, like they were playing dead. Except for Eleven, who sat upright with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, with chin resting on top. 

Alert. 

Silent. 

Protecting.

You were seated near the wall, your back braced against the steel, with Steve beside you on the hard floorboards. His thigh was pressed against yours, and you could feel the muscle under his jeans twitch every so often, tension leaking out his skin. His elbow sat anchored on his knee, fingers draped loose in front of him, his jaw clenched like hell, eyes locked on Hopper.

He wasn’t going to start this. But he damn sure was going to finish it if it went the wrong direction.

Hopper exhaled again. He glanced toward the tiny round window, pitch dark beyond it, and he finally looked back over at everyone.

“Okay. So what now?”

Silence.

Then Joyce spoke, her voice soft. “We’re not leaving.”

“Agreed,” Murray said quickly. His arms were folded, legs crossed, wedged in between Robin and the small cooler. “There’s no guarantee we’ll all survive another relocation. We’ve all worked too fucking hard for this perimeter. This coverage.”

He looked at you. Then to Steve, and then to Dimitri, who sat near the rear with his rifle disassembled and spread out on a towel, each piece being cleaned with practiced, fatal precision.

“We have the terrain,” he spoke now, his accent thick and tone husky. “We have the netting. We have the supplies.”

“You mean, we have three months of supplies,” Nancy corrected flatly from the booth seat. “Six if we ration.”

“And we’re rationing,” Hopper said immediately. “Starting now.”

“Already were,” Argyle added under his breath.

“Well then, we’re re-rationing.”

Eddie huffed. “Dude’s been eating air sandwiches for two days.”

Argyle held up a peace sign in a deadpanned salute. “No crumbs, no trails.”

You watched Dimitri’s eye twitch at that and caught him almost laughing. Almost.

The mood wasn’t exactly relaxed… but the tension was starting to bleed sideways, flattening into an exhausted kind of urgency. Not adrenaline. Not panic. 

Just raw.

“Alright then,” Hopper said. “So we stay. Fine. But if we’re staying, then we need a trigger plan.”

“A trigger plan,” Robin echoed, her legs bouncing now like they were battery-powered. “Oh my God, yes, finally, someone who wants to talk about what the hell’s going to make us run. Like, great. Love that. I love me a cutie little apocalyptic chessboard scenario. I’m all in.”

Nancy snorted. “You’re all nerves.”

“I’m all genius.”

Steve sighed, not even perturbed by her, given the fact she was still alive and could ramble at all. He couldn’t be irritated by anyone right now. Not even Hopper.

And somehow, Robin’s point is what made Dimitri slowly nod.

“Yes,” he said plainly.

Everyone blinked at him.

“…what?” Robin breathed.

“I agree. You are all genius. You are also right.”

Robin immediately sat up straighter, like she’d just been knighted. “Holy shit. This is my Roman Empire.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Steve murmured quickly, barely hiding his smirk as he turned to her.

Robin beamed. “Too late.”

“Hoh-boy,” Murray sighed exasperatedly.

You leaned into Steve’s shoulder just a little, and he tilted his body to match your gesture. You didn’t say anything. Not that you had to. Especially when you were… silently counting his breaths.

Jim pressed on. “So. What’s our trigger? What pushes the go-button? What makes us leave this perimeter?”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie said immediately.

Everyone looked at him.

He didn’t flinch. “Whatever the hell that thing was today? That’s the line. That’s the mark. That’s the get the fuck outta Dodge moment.”

“Okay, but what was that thing?” Argyle said. “Like, that didn’t bark. That thing didn’t breathe. That thing just… shrieked like Hell had a sore throat.”

“I’m sorry, are we sure that wasn’t Vecna?” Robin piped in. “Because it felt like a Vecna moment.”

“No,” El said, quiet but certain. “He’s gone.”

All heads turned to her.

Her voice stayed level. “Or at least… that wasn’t him. That was something else.”

“I can vouch for that.”

Max’s voice, muffled from her spot in the corner, sent chills down everyone’s spine. All of you turned to face her, finding that she kept her eyes shut.

Owen nodded in her place. “And I can vouch for that.”

He would know, you thought. 

Steve thought the same. Well, he’s been the one talking to Max ever since she woke up. So that’s enough for me.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “So we stay until we see that thing again?”

“No,” you said gently, and everyone paused to look at you. “We stay until it gets closer.”

There was a beat of silence.

You could feel Steve’s hand shift toward yours, fingers barely brushing.

“If it stays wild,” you went on, “then it’s territory. If it starts circling back, then it’s a threat.”

Murray, to his credit, didn’t say a word. He just pressed the toe of his sock against yours.

A quiet gesture that meant: I second that. You’re safe. Don’t spike.

Owens finally spoke again. “We can’t treat this like a stable border. That’s the issue.”

Everyone turned toward the corner where he sat with his arms tightly crossed. “It’s not us against one thing. It’s us against five factions at once.”

Hopper nodded at that, locked in.

“The people above us?” Owens continued. “Surveillance, aerial patrols, satellites. The things below us—breaches, mutations, fucking shadow puppets of the Mind Flayer for all we know. We don’t know what’s still alive.”

Dustin groaned and popped upright from his fake sleep. “Okay, can we not say shadow puppets?”

Steve immediately scooted over and patted the floor next to him. Dustin sat. The two leaned against each other like brotherly bricks in a wall.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Steve mumbled softly.

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be lying down,” Dustin retorted. “How’s that going for you?”

You smirked, eyes flicking up to Steve, who lightly rolled his eyes as he mumbled, “Touché.”

“Also, Owens said the f-word, so,” Dustin shrugged. “That perked me up.”

Steve actually snorted at that. 

“Weird times,” Owens muttered, smirking.

Now you puffed a breathless laugh, as Robin cleared her throat. 

“Okay, well, here’s a fun thought,” she chirped. “What if the helicopters weren’t even after us at all?”

“They weren’t,” Hopper said grimly.

“They were hunting it,” you nodded. “Even if searching for signs of life was the goal, priorities changed real quick.”

The tank fell silent again.

“I don’t like that sileeeence,” Eddie carefully sang.

“Me neither,” Steve murmured. “I hate that we’re right.” He looked down at his knees. “I hate that we knew it was going to get worse. And we were still hoping for quiet.”

Your lips parted at that, hating the turmoil that shone from his eyes, as they bore a hole in his jeans… 

Then quietly, he added, “We should’ve known better.”

Murray exhaled. “We did know better.”

“Still wanted peace anyway,” you said.

And nobody could argue with that. How could they? You’d all fucking earned it. More than earned it.

Dustin finally broke the silence. “So, the plan is to stay.”

“Yes,” Joyce nodded once. “We stay unless one of three things happens.”

Everyone focused as she ticked them off. 

“One: the monsters return and breach the perimeter. Two: humans return and breach perimeter. Three? Something causes a comms blackout between tanks... And if that goes down? If Dingus 1 stops hearing from Dingus 2 or vice-versa, we regroup immediately.”

Everyone nodded.

“Question,” said Eddie, raising his hand like a bored teen student back in school. “Do we still call it ‘Dingus’ when both of the original dinguses are inside of this tank right now?”

He gestured to Robin and Steve.

“Eddie,” Robin groaned. “You’re gonna ruin the system.”

“I am the system.”

“Okay, now I’m actually scared,” Steve muttered.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into his shoulder. “Go to sleep, Dingus.”

“I’m fine,” he whispered.

“You’re weepy again,” you whispered back.

He wiped his cheek, grumbling. “No, I’m leaking.”

You kissed his temple. “Fix your plumbing.”

“It’s day four of my flu.”

Beside you, Murray huffed. “Jesus Christ. Just say you love each other and spare the rest of us.”

Steve sniffed sickly. “Don’t have to. Everybody knows.”

“We knew it before you,” Robin muttered.

“Thanks for that,” he deadpanned.

“I’m just glad we’re still alive,” Will said softly from across the tank.

You hadn’t even realized that he was awake.  He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular. He just stared at the floor. “I didn’t think we were going to make it today.”

“We did,” El said, scooting beside him. “And we will again.”

She reached for his hand. He took it.

The night had grown quiet again.

No helicopters.

No movement.

But no one moved to leave.

Hopper rubbed his eyes. “Alright. Final verdict. Nobody’s going anywhere tonight. That’s the plan.”

“We all crash here?” Jonathan asked.

Hopper nodded. “We all crash here. No one’s separating tonight. Not after that.”

Dimitri didn’t speak. He just finished reassembling his rifle and sat down cross-legged by the door.

“Sleep in shifts?” Nancy asked.

“Not me,” you said first. 

“None of us are sleeping,” Steve added.

And nobody argued with either of you. Because you were right. Nobody slept. Not this time. Not tonight.

Not until the world felt safe again.

💭 Chapter Seventy-One Side-Quests, Side Characters

💭 Spring • 1986 (Skull Rock • Hawkins, IN)

“Okay, no judgement? You’re holding the compass upside down. But hey, A- for effort.”

Dustin didn’t even look up as he said it. 

He was stomping across dead leaves in his cargo shorts and homemade thinking cap, flanked by you and Steve, both of whom looked done. Nancy and Robin were a little further behind, walking side by side and exchanging quiet eye-rolls every ten seconds.

“I am not holding it upside down,” Steve snapped.

“Punssss,” Robin sang from behind you all.

“Dude, you’re holding it like it’s a cursed amulet,” Dustin kept critiquing.

“It feels like a cursed amulet.”

“It’s a compass.”

“And it’s not pointing north!”

“That’s the whole point!” Dustin turned on his heel. “It’s not supposed to point north if the gate’s affecting all the magnetic fields. Jesus, Harrington, were you popular and this stupid?”

You stifled a laugh. A fat one. 

Steve whirled on you. “Oh, please, don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you shrugged smugly.

“You didn’t have to. You were smirking.”

You deepened it, just to piss him off. “I smirk in general.”

“Well then stop doing that with your face.”

“Stop doing what with my face?”

“That—! That smug little ‘I’m not saying anything but I think you’re an idiot’ look.”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah, she definitely thinks you’re an idiot.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” you said calmly.

Steve threw his arms up. “Unbelievable. You see what I’m dealing with?”

Robin popped her head between you both. “Hey. Keep fighting like that and Mrs. Magnetic field’s gonna start throwing you off course.”

“I’ll throw him off the course,” you muttered.

“Oh, go ahead,” Steve bit out, arms crossed. “Push me right into the lake. It’d be the second time this year.”

“…okay, what happened the first time?” Robin asked, delighted.

“Becky Simpkins," he smirked.

“Oooooh,” she patronized. “A little sexy shove into the water. Tell me, was it post makeout? Or pre.”

“Both.”

“Scandalous.”

“Very,” you monotoned.

You hated the thought of it. But more than that? You hated that it bothered you so much.

Lately, the mental image of Steve making out with any girls seemed to be a really unpleasant thought in your head. And you knew why. 

You just didn’t know why the ‘why’ was happening, and how it had become some deeply bothersome to you.

“Of course, then there’s this girl,” Steve continued, now gesturing to you wildly. “Who shoved me into the public pool two summers back.”

You made a face. “You’re still on about that?”

“Time out, time out,” Robin eagerly jumped in place. “I want details. When, where, why.”

“Week of Fourth of July. She—”

“It was an accident,” you said quickly. “You stepped into my line of vision.”

“I got pushed.”

“I sneezed.”

“You yeeted me off the diving board.”

“Yeeehaw, you deserved it.”

Dustin looked to the sky. “Do you ever get exhausted of listening to yourselves? Or are you two just always this exhausting?”

“Always,” Nancy said without looking up from her map.

You arched an eyebrow at her. Even Steve did, though his was more… lovesick.

God, you hated that.

“I just—meant, like…” Nancy stuttered, now sheepish. “It seems like you two’ve been umm… like that since ‘84…?”

“Hm,” you shrugged. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Robin smirked at you, bumping your shoulder with hers as you both kept walking. You smirked back, stealing a glance sideways at Steve… who was very pointedly not looking at you. Just gnawing his bottom lip, glaring at the trees.

Which was fine.

Totally fine.

It wasn’t like you’d already fallen helplessly in love with him or anything.

It wasn’t like his hatred for you only seemed to fuel your ever-blooming feelings for him.

It wasn’t like watching him continue to pine over Nancy Wheeler, and wondering why the hell he thought he didn’t deserve better—or better yet, why the hell she clearly still had unresolved feelings for him while still in a relationship with Jonathan all the over in fucking California…

…it wasn’t like that made you want to take a cheese grater to your forehead or anything.

“Seems to me, you like stirring up trouble,” Robin cutely teased you, softly as she nudged her hip to yours. You nudged back. 

Steve gasped. “Who, her? Bauman? No.”

You threw your hands up. “You know, keep it up? You’re gonna get wrinkles.”

“And I’ll invoice you the Botox bill!” he quipped before he whipped back around, moving forward.

You kept walking. Skull Rock had to be somewhere near here. Dustin swore on it. The trail twisted through a series of brambles and a dip in the ravine, and the further you got, the quieter things got. 

There was tension in the air. 

You tried not to overthink it.

Or overfeel it.

Or imagine Steve’s lips on someone else’s in the exact woods you were all now trekking through.

Not that he had ever looked at you like that. He always just looked at you like you had personally invented cruel heartbreak for shits and giggles.

Which was hilarious, really, because he was the one that couldn’t let go of Nancy. Not you. Not that anyone knew that. 

Not that anyone knew anything about the way your heart cracked whenever you saw them in a room together. 

Not even Robin. And damnit, you told her everything. But not this. Because this wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You had no business falling in love with Steve Harrington.

And yet… here you were. In the woods. Sharing air with him, and watching him walk ten steps ahead like he was trying to get away from the shape of your shadow.

“You know,” Dustin said as he slowed beside you, “he talks about Lover’s Lake like he owns the deed to it.”

You didn’t miss the way Steve’s ears turned red. 

“I heard that,” he muttered.

“Good,” Dustin grinned.

“I don’t own Lover’s Lake,” Steve muttered. “I just made it popular.”

You blinked. “You made a geological landmark popular?”

“I made it sexy.”

Robin laughed out loud. Nancy raised an eyebrow. You didn’t say anything, but the way you raised your hands and bit your lip screamed ~judgment.~

“Okay, see, this is why I hate this,” Steve snapped. “I open my mouth, and you all look at me like I just passed gas inside a church.”

“Because you did,” Robin wheezed. “Verbally.”

“Whatever. Let’s just find Eddie and get this over with.”

He pushed through the brush ahead of you, with Dustin trailing behind him. And sure enough? After a while, he found it. Which confirmed all his stories.

Great.

“Oh boom,” Steve pushed through the last of the shrubs. “Bada-bing-bada-boom, there she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face man, in your stupid cocky little face—”

“Okay, Ma, chill,” you scolded cooly.

But Dustin didn’t even notice, his eyes flicking from the map up to the spot. “This… doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, even when it’s staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it.” Steve shrugged, smug as hell. And clearly proud of himself. “You just can’t admire that you’re wrong, you little butthead.”

CRASH.

Something suddenly landed right behind you.

You yelped, spun, heart leaping into your throat… and Eddie Munson now stood there with a shit-eating grin, half-crouched, arms spread.

You clutched your chest. “Jesus CHRIST—!”

“I concur. You, Dustin Henderson, are a… total butthead.”

You couldn’t even help it. A laugh sputtered out of you as you bent over and gripped your knees, more out of sheer relief than anything.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he beamed at you. “Did I scare ya?”

“I think I just peed.”

Dustin burst out laughing. You were chuckling too now, breathless from the jolt, while Eddie winked and did a little flourish with his imaginary hat.

“Well, my sincerest apologies. Normally, I like to be invited before jumping from trees.”

“Jesus,” Steve had already turned on his heel. “What the hell, Munson?”

Eddie threw his arms up. “Dude, I’ve been watching you idiots go in circles for fifteen minutes. You passed Skull Rock three times.”

Steve scowled. “You were watching us?”

“Yeah. It was like a live sitcom.” Eddie shrugged. “Ten out of ten, would binge.”

Robin wheezed now. “Alright, this is already the best part of my weirdass day.”

Eddie grinned. “I live to impress”

You shot Eddie a look. “You’re worse than a raccoon.”

“Thank you, m'lady,” he bowed. “I’m rabidly misunderstood.”

You snorted, shaking your head. And to your surprise, he fell into step beside you as you all turned back toward the rock clearing. 

Eddie seemed perfectly at ease beside you, cracking little jokes under his breath, making absurd observations. You didn’t even mean to keep laughing, but the guy was just funny. In a very specific “gremlin trying to steal a Denny’s menu” kind of way.

And Steve?

Hated it.

You didn’t even have to look at him see his stare burning into the side of your whole face every time you so much as smiled. Which was stupid, because you were just… talking. Like a normal person. 

But of course, he had to find a problem with that.

“Oh my God, I am begging you two to let Dustin finish talking,” Robin sighed dramatically, now pointing at the compass. “He’s about to go full Da Vinci Code, and you two are doing a romcom.”

You made a face. “This ain’t no romcom.”

“Agreed,” Eddie nodded sagely, looking at you. “We’re more coming-of-age indie slasher.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but I’m the slasher, right?”

He scoffed. “Please. You’re the final girl.”

“Ahhh,” you nodded approvingly. “I can work with that.”

“Looks like we’re costars,” he winked.

Steve actually winced.

Dustin, bless his heart, was still laser-focused. “Look, see this? It’s not pointing north.”

You and Eddie both looked, along with Robin and Max. Nancy craned her neck to see, standing near Steve.

“That means there’s interference somewhere,” Dustin kept going. “And since I already calibrated it last night—”

“Dustin,” Steve interrupted, “maybe let’s not do the whole explaining while you’re tripping over sticks.”

“I’m fine—”

“I’m just saying, last time you faceplanted, I had to carry you out.”

He reeled. “I sprained my ankle! The hell was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno—hobble? Crawl?”

“Wow,” you muttered. “Chivalry really is dead.”

Steve glared at you. “Sorry, I didn't realize you were a knight now.”

“Better a knight than a narc.”

Nancy stifled a laugh. Robin fake-coughed under her breath. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

But Eddie was just watching all of it like a soap opera. 

“I gotta say,” he grinned. “Your parts in this movie is like watching two porcupines try to snuggle.”

“We’re not snuggling,” Steve snapped.

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” Eddie shot back.

You bit your lip, hiding a smile. 

Which only pissed Steve off more. 

“You should’ve seen them a couple summers ago,” Max sighed from beside Lucas, pulling her headphones down now. “They fought over SPF percentages, popsicle flavors, Dustin’s choice of deodorant, Mike’s homework—”

“Wait,” Dustin turned to Steve. “You don’t like my deodorant?”

“What? No.”

“He means yes,” you saved him urgently.

“Right,” Steve nods, in spite of himself. “Right, I meant — yeah. It’s great.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed. “Do I stink?”

“NO,” you and Steve said way too enthusiastically, now having each others’ backs with zero hesitation. Full blown co-parent-mode in full swing.

“Uh-oh,” Max quietly chirped.

“What is happening,” Lucas mumbled, morbidly living for this as his eyes darted from person to person.

Dustin just stared. “Did I stink then…?”

“No, it was just—strong.”

“Way too strong.”

“But you?” You flashed him on a-okay gesture. “A-1.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “It just didn’t, y’know…” he shrugged. “Compliment your natural pheromones.”

Eddie silently wheezed.

“Okay, this is seriously a car crash,” Robin whispered, now highly entertained next to Nancy.

“Agreed,” Nancy nodded quietly… but even she couldn’t help but feel an odd tinge of territorial discomfort as she watched how the two of you interacted. 

It was way too natural.

Even with the tension, you and Steve moved in tandem.

A beat later, he turned sharply. “Alright. Let’s split up.”

Everyone blinked.

“What?” Dustin said.

“You and me go north with Max,” Steve said, grabbing the compass from him. “Robin, Nancy, you go west. Actually, no. Nance, you’re with us. Lucas, you too. Robs, you and Eddie take—”

He paused when he looked at you, thinking for a moment. 

“Yeah, you go with them.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You, Robin and Eddie. Go check the ravine.”

“Damn. At least say please.”

Steve shot you the wryest look. “Please, Satan.”

Robin frowned. “Why are we splitting?”

“We’ll cover more ground faster,” he shrugged like it was obvious.

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts.”

You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb. “I mean, if we’re doing that, I might as well scope out the gated field.”

Robin snapped her finger approvingly. “That makes sense.”

“It makes no sense,” Steve’s face soured at you.

“Yes, it does,” Robin said nonchalantly.

“No.”

“Dingus—”

“We’re sticking in groups.”

You waved it off nonchalantly. “I’m a side-quest girl, I’ll be fine.”

“Side-quest girls,” Steve squinted at you, unrelenting, “thrive in festivals with plenty of backup. This?—this is the wilderness with interdimensional monsters.”

“Honestly, that’s true,” Lucas randomly chimed in.

Robin groaned, head titled back. “Can we please just get a move on—”

“I’m going,” you turned.

“No,” Steve cut you off, tugging your jacket.

Oh, he was adamant.

“Dingus,” Robin exasperatedly exclaimed, half-laughing.

“I don’t want her going alone.”

Your brows shot up.

Steve immediately clarified. “I don’t want anyone going alone.”

Max squinted between you and him, while Lucas and Dustin just looked perplexed.

“Wow,” Robin muttered dryly. “Nice save. Was startin’ to feel like chopped liver over here.”

You were still blinking, trying to put together what the hell just happened when Robin hooked her arm through yours. 

“C’mon, partner. We’ll give the boy king a break from his emotional constipation.”

Eddie bounded after you both like a stray cat. “Shall I lead the way?” he asked gallantly.

“You may prance the way,” you stated, mock-solemn. 

And he did. He fucking pranced.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat. You didn’t even mean to, but it was like he cracked open your ribs a little. 

“Yeah,” Robin snorted. “Dance, monkey, dance.”

“Dude,” you chuckled. “Did your mom teach you those moves?”

“Your mom taught me these moves,” he grinned, giving a nice little Irish heel click. 

You faked an oh goodie! type of expression. “Holy shit, tell her hi for me. And well done.”

“What?” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “You don’t keep in touch with my lover?”

You snorted. “Nah, can’t say I’ve seen the lady since she had me as an oopsie and dipped, sooooo…”

He stopped. “Oh my bad, shit—”

“OY. Why’d ya stop yer’prencin’ there, eh?”

Your ridiculous attempt at an accent landed, and it also shut down any chance of guilt or shame flooding Eddie’s system. 

Thankfully? His social cues were solid. So his shocked, sympathetic expression schooled itself in a flash and his jigging resumed as he pranced around you like crazy.

Now you were snickering.

And now Steve was boiling.

He stood there with Max, Nancy and Dustin, his arms crossed, jaw clenched, just… watching. Until finally, with no warning, he marched forward and caught up. 

“No splitting,” he muttered. “We stay together.”

You turned. “You literally just said—”

“Changed my mind.”

Eddie blinked. “So… now we don’t split?”

Steve just looked at him with a tight smile. Nothing else.

Dustin glanced between them. “This is what happens when testosterone hits critical mass,” he mumbled to himself.

“I need a nap,” Robin sighed.

“No naps,” Nancy said, walking forward. “We’re not stopping.”

So you all walked. Again. 

Together.

Nancy fell in time with Steve, and the two of them shared their own little moment for a while. She grinned, he smiled, she laughed, he chuckled. 

You didn't watch.

Eddie dropped beside you with a chuckle, clearly about to say something when Steve immediately cut between you. Still talking to Dustin. Still bickering. Still pretending not to care. But you caught the look Eddie gave you. 

Wide-eyed.

Amused.

Even a little impressed.

And maybe, just maybe… a little curious.

You were already looking away, cheeks warm, when he smirked and muttered under his breath, “So that’s what that was.”

And you didn’t answer.

Because you weren’t sure you could.

Chapter Seventy-Two 💭 What’s Your Type?

Spring • 1986 💭 (Outside a War Surplus Store • Hawkins, IN)

The RV door creaked open with a slow, sticky sound like a breath being held. The sun outside was blinding… that kind of high-noon, flashbang glare that made everything feel more lawless. 

Steve stepped down first, one hand pressed to the big doorframe, the other squinting against the light like the suburban sheriff he thought he was.

“Alright,” he said. “We do this fast. Grab what we need. No lingering.”

Robin climbed down behind him, nearly tripping over the step, already digging in her pockets. “We should split by aisle. You get blades, I get nails. Nancy gets firearms.”

Nancy nodded. “Copy.”

“Man,” Steve murmured, smirking warmly at Nancy. “You’re about to be in heaven. You know that, right?”

She perked up at him through her lashes, eyes dancing. “Why, because I’m secretly a sniper?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who said it was a secret?”

That made her grin. The crimson blush that swept across her cheeks was not subtle. Neither was Steve’s crooked smile. Neither was their chemistry, their unresolved feelings.

And neither was the sharp pang inside your heart.

Lucas, Dustin, Erica and Max poured out next, all jostling and elbowing each other like a strange little apocalyptic version of recess. You were helping them, while making your own way towards the door.

Eddie stayed seated near the table, bouncing one leg nervously, hair pulled back and sweat-stuck in that way that made him look even more like a wanted man.

Because, well. He was.

“So no offense,” Robin turned mid-step, looking directly at him, “but you are not coming in.”

Eddie held his hands up. “Oh, no, please. I was planning on waltzing in there and asking the cashier if they’d any fresh bloodstains in stock to match all’a my local wanted posters. Maybe a hat.”

“Yeah, you’re hilarious,” Steve deadpanned. “Stay here.”

Eddie winked. “Wasn’t planning on hopping out of the van like a criminal jack-in-the-box, thanks.”

You hovered halfway down the RV steps, glancing at him. There was something fidgety in the way he kept flexing his hands and shifting in his seat. He was pretending to be chill, but… Eddie Munson was a ball of nerves tied up in a leather jacket, and someone had just lit a match.

“I’ll stay with him,” you said easily.

Dustin halted. “Huh?”

Robin paused, too. “You sure?”

You shrugged easily. “Yeah, I don’t feel like shopping for bear traps with a migraine, and he looks—” 

“Whoa, back up,” Steve looked up, sharply. “You’ve got a migraine?!”

Oh shit. 

“No—ah, fuck.” You waved a hand. “Horrible phrasing.”

“Bauman, I swear to god, if you’re cursed too? Speak up. Now. I’m not dicking around.”

“Neither am I!” you half-laughed, exasperated.

He scowled. “This isn’t funny.”

You huffed. “Of course it’s not.”

But Steve still scowled at you. More like he glared at you now. Even so, you could tell that there was genuine concern there, and you really felt bad for your terrible, albeit accidental, choice of phrasing.

Eddie also looked panicked. Same as Robin. And the kids—man, you really fumbled the bag hard here.

“I’m not cursed,” you tried again, warily, but getting to the point. “No nosebleeds, no clock. No Vecna-induced head trauma or visions or migraines.”

Max’s widened eyes shone, swallowing harshly, staring at you desperately. “You swear?”

You winked at her. “Scout’s honor. I just think our boy here is a solid minute away from gnawing off his own pinky if left unsupervised.”

“Hot,” Eddie muttered, saluting you.

Everyone visibly relaxed.

Robin finally shrugged. “Alright. You two stay here. The rest of us are in and out, ten minutes.”

Steve opened his mouth like he wanted to argue again. But then Nancy brushed past him, letting her hand linger… so he just set his jaw and nodded, eyes flicking to you for a beat too long.

You didn’t return the look.

Not with her back in the picture.

Robin offered a tiny wave. “Don’t start any cults while we’re gone.”

“Too late,” Eddie called. “She already made me sign a blood oath.”

Lucas and Erica rolled their eyes simultaneously, Max adjusted her headphones, and Dustin…sweet, oblivious Dustin…just gave you both a thumbs-up as they filed out.

Then it was quiet again.

The door shut.

The heat buzzed.

Eddie stretched with a dramatic groan and flopped down across from you at the tiny fold-out table. “Well,” he said. “Welcome to the lamest coffee shop in Indiana.”

You smirked. “You call this a coffee shop, I’m gonna need a refund.”

“Hey now, we’ve got ambiance,” he emphasized, tapping the wood paneling. “We got atmosphere. Even got—” He sniffed. “—Steve’s sexy ass rich boy cologne soaking into the upholstery.”

You snorted. “My favorite.”

He settled, picking at a callus on his thumb. “You really didn’t wanna go with them?”

You shrugged. “You really didn’t wanna be alone.”

That earned you a real smile from him. Something softer than his usual grin.

“Hmm,” he tapped a finger on the table. “You always that perceptive?”

“Only when I give a shit.”

Eddie didn’t answer right away. He nodded a little. Almost to himself. “Earlier, back in the woods,” he spoke quieter now. “You said something about your mom.”

You leaned back, looking at the ceiling for a beat. You hadn’t thought he’d remembered. Hell, you didn’t even remember having said that.

“Yeah,” you said. “I did.”

He scratched his neck awkwardly, but his eyes stayed sincere. “Yeah, so—about that. I’m a world-class moron and love to jest without actually thinking before speaking? So, uhm—yeah. If I struck a sharp, untuned chord there, I’m uhm…” He paused, nibbling at his lip, fiddling with his rings. “I’m really sorry about that.”

That actually made your raise shoot up subtly. Because Eddie said it in a way that was completely genuine without making you feel pitied, or like you owed him explanation. He didn’t push. And you appreciated that. A lot more than you expected to.

After a moment, you shrugged gently. “Don’t worry. No chord strike.” You winked, then added with ease, “I never knew her.”

Eddie blinked. 

He didn’t interrupt.

“Junkie Julie,” you continued. “Didn’t plan on keeping me. Didn’t even stop using, when she was pregnant. I’m pretty sure the drugs were supposed to take care of the whole ‘pregnancy’ thing for her.”

“…that’s—” he started, then stopped. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you said simply. “But the joke’s on her. She got admitted to rehab when she was six months along. Sooo, I had a window. Barely. Got out at just over three pounds. No prenatal care. Just… spit and stubbornness, I guess. Knew it was time to flee, fly, foh-fum.”

Eddie didn’t try to fill the silence. and he didn’t comment on your subtly, added morbid humor at the end there, as you delivered the last two syllables like the giant from ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’

You weren’t saying it for sympathy. You weren’t saying it to shock him. You weren’t trying to joke. You were just… saying it.

“So what you’re saying is,” he carefully leaned in. “You’re a defiant crack baby.”

You flashed him a grin that lit up your entire face. “Something like that.”

Eddie looked at you for a moment, then leaned back in his seat, clearing his throat with a new mischievous look in his dark eyes. “So then, you crawled on outta there, y’know. Prematurely, but getting the ick from the umbilical cord…”

“Very final girl, yeah.”

“Exactly,” he grinned, pointing at you. “And then you got whisked away from her by like—what… nurses? Family?”

“My uncle,” you smiled faintly.

“Her side?”

You scrunched your nose. “Yeah, they weren’t all that close. Not after she dropped outta high school and left with some white skinhead in a wifebeater who lived up to his appearance.”

“Mmmm,” he nodded sagely. “Classic dick move.”

You clicked your tongue, feigning disappointment. “Total dick move,” you muttered mock-solemnly.

“So you never met her.”

“Never met her,” you nodded. “Didn’t want to. Don’t hate her. Don’t love her. Just… don’t know her. But also? This point, I forget she even was a part of me. Uncle Murray took me in. Well, technically my grandma took me in full time. Marjorie.”

Eddie gave a low whistle. “Marjorie, huh?”

“Mob wife chic,” you grinned. “Yeah.”

“Explains a lot,” he said, eyes wide… then narrowing with mock-suspicion. “That woman once pepper sprayed a meter maid, didn’t she...”

“She did,” you deadpanned. “And told the judge it was a moment of spiritual weakness.”

“God, I love her already.”

You smiled fondly. And it wasn’t forced at all, just felt wholeheartedly.

“She’s a mess,” you said. “So’s Murray. But they never made me feel like a burden.”

Eddie watched you for a second longer. “You’re really not what I expected,” he said.

You looked at him. “What’d you expect?”

He grinned. “Something a little more… polished. You graduated early, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Year ahead. Just wanted to be done. Hated school.”

He tapped his chest. “Same. Except I’m doing it three times just to be sure.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah, you’re really being thorough.”

“I’m committed to the bit.”

“I’ll say.”

“Wait, so what’re you doing now?” he asked. “Like, career-wise?”

You shrugged. “Freelance contractor. Painting mostly. Some drywall, tiling, that kind of thing.”

Eddie blinked. “You renovate houses?”

“Yep.”

Eddie blinked once, then again. “And like—buildings and stuff?”

You smirked deeply, surprised he’s into it. “Yeah. Remember Starcourt mall?”

“Who doesn’t remember that corporate disaster?”

“Welp.” You raised your hands with lazy flourish, gesturing to yourself. “I got hired on to help them with one of the outset build-outs. Was gonna be an Orange Julius. We’d just finished their flooring before it… y’know—” You held up air quotes. “Went down in flames.”

He arched a brow. “That’s when the Russian-Mind Flayer thingy happened, right?”

“Bingo,” you winked, one finger-gun at him. “So yeah. Mind Flayer sorta ruined our work. Ironically, the RadioShack was still standing though.”

His eyes lit up. “You did buildout for the RadioShack?!”

You grinned deeply. “Indeed.”

“Holy shit. That’s actually—” He sat back. “That’s so hot.”

You snorted. “It’s not hot. It’s labor.”

He pointed at you. “Hot labor.”

You threw a napkin at him.

The minutes passed like that. Effortlessly. It was banter that didn’t require sharpness. Jokes that didn’t ask for a punchline. You weren’t performing. He wasn’t deflecting. It was just… easy.

“Okay, but seriously,” Eddie leaned forward, his rings clinking the tabletop. “You and Dustin. You two are like the ultimate chaos duo.”

“He’s the little brother I never asked for,” you said fondly. “And definitely the one that Steve needed.”

“Don’t tell him that. He’ll cry.”

“Too late. I told him last week.”

“God, you are evil.”

You smiled. “They’re both only children. So am I. All three of us are.” That made you pause. “Huh. Hadn’t connected those dots ‘til just now.”

“Explains so much, man,” he smirked at you.

“Tragically,” you stage-whispered, making him smirk even more as you feigned far deeper shock than you felt.

Outside, footsteps started gathering. Voices approached. The group was coming back.

Eddie exhaled. “Time’s up.”

You glanced at him. “Guess you survived twenty minutes without chewing your fingernails off.”

He held up his hands. “What can I say? You’re calming.”

You chuckled lightly.

Just then, right as the RV door creaked open again, Eddie added, “You know… if we live through all this, you ever wanna get coffee or something…”

The rest of the group was filtering in now. Boots on metal. Bags rustling. 

You turned to look at him.

Eddie wasn’t leering. He wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t even entirely flirty or romantic, just open-ended. Like the kind of offer someone makes when they don’t know what else to say but mean it anyway.

You raised an eyebrow. “Coffee?”

“Bold,” he amended. “Or Irish. Depending.”

You grinned. “I’m a red-eye Jedi.”

“Oh, then I know just the place.”

“Oh yeah?” You jutted your chin at him. “Where.”

He smiled like the devil. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Dustin bounced in, carrying a pack of god-knows-what, grinning wide. “Wait, are you two getting coffee?” he gasped. “Yes! Yes. I love that. Holy shit. Can I come?”

“Sure,” you said, at the exact same time Eddie said, “Obviously.”

“Word,” Dustin grinned.

“But…” Eddie stressed imploringly, swiveling his head to look back at you with pure mischief and warmth. “That means I’ll have to ask you on another separate child-free coffee date.”

That actually made you bite your lip with a teasing eye roll and cheeky grin.

Steve was already halfway up the steps… and his eyes were already locked on you. Then Eddie. Then Dustin. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw flexed. Clearly? He’d heard everything.

Robin slumped against the wall. “You two’re going on a coffee date now? Great. I’ll third wheel.” Then she tilted her head at Steve. “Dingus here can fourth wheel.”

Steve growled. “I’m not—”

“She’s joking,” you said coolly, cutting him off. “You’ve already got plenty of dates lined up.”

He gave you a look like you’d just kicked him in the ribs as Nancy secretly eavesdropped from where she was carefully unloading the weaponry near the back. Then he glared at Eddie for a solid handful of seconds.

“Let’s go,” he snapped, voice low. “Everyone buckle up.”

Eddie pressed his lips into a hard line, eyes amused. “Alright, then,” he muttered, sliding into the bench seat as Max curled up beside you with her music blasting.

Steve stormed to the front, sliding into the driver’s seat with way too much force. Nancy quietly followed and sat beside him. You it the inside of your cheek, keeping cool as you tried not to let their close proximity bother you. Weirdly? Sitting next to Eddie, with Max curled into your side, made it sting a little less.

So did Steve’s visible irritation, whatever the cause of it was.

The engine sputtered, then roared to life. 

Everyone rocked forward.

Eddie squinted at the back of Steve’s head like it was a puzzle. Then leaned toward you. “Is he always this fun?”

You didn’t even turn. “Define fun.”

“Hmm.” Eddie glanced back at him. “Controlling. Prickly. Chest hair visible from space.”

You audibly snorted as Eddie caught sight of Steve, staring back at the two of you in the rearview mirror. He really couldn’t tell if the pretty boy just wanted full control over his group, or if you specifically are the source of his current woes.

So he leaned in closer, not bothering to lower his volume as he tested the theory. “So what’s your type, anyway?”

You tilted your head, amused. “Why? You taking notes?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Just curious.”

You opened your mouth to answer that.

But that’s when Steve whipped his head around from the front seat, glaring like you’d just said his name. “She likes guys who don’t ask dumbass questions,” he snapped.

The RV went eerily silent.

Robin gaped. Nancy blinked. Max looked up from your lap. Lucas and Erica exchanged a what the fuck glance. Dustin just looked downright confused.

Steve didn’t wait for an answer. He just faced forward and revved the Winnebago like it owed him money.

Eddie was quietly wheezing, shoulders shaking.

You were biting your lip, caught between amusement and secondhand embarrassment. 

But also… something else. 

Something warm and dangerous in your throat.

Robin whispered under her breath, to no one in particular, “What the fuck was that…?”

You just stared at Steve’s head, lips parted in wordless, incredulous bewilderment. And for one stupid second… 

…yeah.

Yeah, that? 

That turned you on.

Nancy still side-eyed him in confusion, while Max nuzzled into your shoulder, cranking up her music more as you held her close.

Dustin deeply frowned, still staring down his best friend. “Steve, do you need a nap or a baba? Should I have grabbed a pacifier?”

You snorted hard.

Eddie cackled with Robin.

Lucas chomped down his lip, failing miserably as Erica grinned at Dustin like a smug, all-knowing little diva who thrived on older kids’ drama.

Nancy stiffly smiled, awkwardly chuckling…

And Steve just kept driving, like he could outrun whatever the hell this was.

Chapter Seventy-Three The Witching Hour

March • 1987 DAY 10 • Inside Dingus-1 • 3:02AM

It was just after 3:00 a.m.

And inside the belly of the tank, time had stopped.

Not a whisper moved through the iron shell of Dingus-1. No radio chatter. No snow crunching. No shriek of wind. Not even the hum of distant engines or rotors in the sky. Outside, the forest stood frozen in place, locked in the dead hush of a winter night too still to trust.

But inside… well, inside the tank was the heat of life pressed close and kept quiet during the witching hour.

Dimitri sat up front with his rifle slung across his lap, back straight, eyes trained on the small grainy screen built into the central panel. The early 1980’s military-grade camera setup was clunky and rugged as hell… but effective. Its forward-facing periscope lens fed back a grainy black and green image of the forest outside, flickering faintly. They’d duct-taped blackout panels over the tank’s windows, just in case. Not that any of them trusted those thin sheets of glass anymore.

Hopper sat beside him, his shotgun leaned up against his shoulder. He wasn’t asleep. Neither was Murray, tucked in between them with a beat-up Walkman clipped to his belt and big headphones stretched over his scruffy face and balding head. The thing clicked quietly as it played, a shortwave hack that Dustin had managed to rig, in order to catch emergency frequencies. 

Murray now listened intently. Occasionally, his mouth moved with the news. No change. Still martial law across the States. Still border surveillance in Quebec. Still weird sightings… all unexplained, unverified, unnatural.

The rest of the world was catching up now.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, he thought to himself.

In the back, the rest of you were packed like sardines.

Six teen kids were all crammed in as tightly as they could manage. Eleven sat upright in the middle of them… gaze sharp and unblinking. Max was curled into her side, legs still crooked and carefully tucked up, eyes closed but not asleep. Mike held El tightly, arms wound around her with that stubborn kind of protection that screamed teenage boy and lifelong partner in the same breath. Lucas held Max, a hand resting on her hip, forehead against her hair.

They had their girls in the middle.

And they kept them safe, even as they tried to find sleep.

Robin and Dustin slept back-to-back on Lucas’s opposite side, their knees bent awkwardly, arms criss-crossed like puzzle pieces. Dustin’s cap had slipped sideways across his brow. And Robin’s mouth was half-open, drooling. 

It was kind of perfect.

Will and Jonathan lay shoulder to shoulder near the wall, both on their backs, perfectly still. Not speaking… just… being. Jonathan’s arm stayed pressed against Will’s like a barrier and a promise. And Mike’s back was pressed up against Will’s opposite arm warmly, as he kept his hold on Eleven, even as she listened for sounds of disturbance.

Next to the Byers boys, Nancy was curled near them with Argyle on her far side, cocooned together under a heap of wool and stolen military blankets. Joyce and Dr. Owens sat near the opposite wall, leaned back and half-sleeping, with their eyes half-lidded, posture taut and watchful.

And in the very center, like gravity itself, was you.

You were sound asleep, finally, tucked into Steve’s chest.

His arm was draped across your side beneath the fleece, his hand resting just above your ribcage… like a second heartbeat. One long leg was tangled with yours while his fingers drifted now and then, up and down the outside of your arm in slow, reverent strokes. He was propped up on an elbow, Henley rumpled, hair a mess, eyes so wide and so tired that they didn’t even blink. 

He hadn’t slept. Not even for a minute.

And he wasn’t going to.

Not while you were like this.

Steve just watched you silently, his breath shallow, like breathing too hard might wake you or shatter the moment entirely. Your face was tucked into his sternum, your lips slightly parted, lashes resting against his shirt. You didn’t stir or make a sound. You didn’t snore or twitch.

And all the while, he watched. 

And watched. 

And watched.

And watched.

A quiet shift came from your other side.

Eddie.

He pushed up onto both elbows, hair messy as hell, eyes bloodshot and heavy with that insomniac look. He didn’t say anything right away, he just squinted at Steve across your sleeping form.

Steve’s doe eyes flicked up to meet his jet black irises.

A breath passed between them… and then Steve gave him a soft, lopsided smile. Just a whisper of it.

Eddie blinked. Then smiled back. 

“You ever sleep anymore?” he whispered, voice low, just loud enough to carry in the dead silence.

Steve shook his head. “Nah. Too busy being tragic.”

Eddie huffed out a quiet chuckle. “You sure you’re not secretly British?”

“Don’t test me. I’ll start reciting Wuthering Heights.”

“God forbid.”

Another hushed pause.

Steve glanced back down at you. He hadn’t once stopped touching your arm. It was as if it was the only way to keep himself from unraveling or yelling at the sky outside.

Eddie noticed. “Y’know,” he murmured. “First time I saw you look at her like that, I thought it was just a fluke.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back up. 

“She looked at you like that first, though,” Eddie added, as if remembering. “That I’ll never forget seeing.”

Steve blinked. “When?”

“Back at the trailer,” Eddie said. “Upside Down. Right before you left. You, Nancy and Robin. She stayed with me and the kid. Helped drag my sorry ass out of that place.”

Steve nodded slowly… remembering.

Eddie looked at you again. “I don’t think she’s ever said a word about how bad it was. Her worrying. But I knew. I knew how she looked at you before that all went south.”

Steve swallowed.

Eddie’s tone was calm. No judgment. No weight. Just a quiet kind of truth that filled the space between them. “And now,” he kept going, “you’re the one looking at her like that. Like she’s the center of the whole damn map.”

Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“I gotta ask,” Eddie whispered, eyes sharp but gentle. “When’d it happen? The switch?”

Steve was quiet for a long time.

Then finally, he whispered, “That night.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Which one?”

Steve looked down at you like you were made of glass and lightning and everything holy. Then back at Eddie.

“Two months ago. Or almost. Still couldn’t open the letter that Max wrote me. I just—couldn’t. I avoided it. Thought it would destroy me.”

Eddie nodded, letting that land. “The failsafes,” he murmured.

“She read it for me,” Steve said, nodding down at you. “Out loud. While everyone else was still asleep. And I just sat there. Let her hold it, let her read it. That morning, when I couldn’t sleep and just… sat with her and Max.”

He trailed off for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in the memory. And Eddie didn’t rush him. If anything? Now he held his breath. He didn’t know any of this. He’d always wondered. But there’d never been time to ever discuss it.

“Then that night, I let her hold me,” he finally continued in the most hushed murmur. “And I realized that I just… jus’ couldn’t do any of this without her anymore.”

Eddie let the words hang.

“And that was it,” Steve whispered. “That was the when.”

A long, tender silence settled between them. The only sounds were the tiny creaks of the tank, the low thrum of a space heater, the rhythmic breath of a dozen other people.

Eddie gave him a long look. “Damn.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to guess for ages.”

That actually made Steve smile faintly.

“And you’ve never told anyone?” Eddie asked.

Steve shook his head. “Haven’t really had time.”

Eddie shifted gently. “Well,” he mumbled. “We do now. Technically, we don’t, but like… neither of us is sleeping, so you might as well tell me a bedtime story.”

The little eye-roll that earned him from Steve was such a classic throwback to his old self… and yet, nothing about it resembled anything except who he’d become. He took a few beats, then sighed to himself before reflecting aloud.

“Knocked on her door that night, after everyone was out. I don’t think I even said a word when she opened it. Just… stood there.”

“…and she let you in.”

“Of course she did,” Steve said softly. “Just asked me if something was wrong.” A flicker of a smile ghosted over the corner of his lips, subtly twitching upwards. “And all I could do was crash my face to hers, and she didn’t stop me, and it just… was everything.” He stared down at you, his fingers still trailing your arm. “Second night, too. Held her, while she held me. Then the fence happened and it was like—” His brows faintly pinched. “—like the universe said I’d waited too long, so I didn’t get to have it.”

Eddie deeply exhaled. “Jesus.”

Steve looked at him. “Hm?”

But Eddie shook his head. “It’s just. Wild, y’know? Plot twist no one saw coming. You two.”

Steve snorted, then rolled his eyes again.

“I’m serious,” Eddie whispered. “I mean, back in the day? You couldn’t even look at her without making a face. You looked at me like I was the antichrist.”

Steve groaned softly. “Okay, alright, Jesus…”

“You were so hot ‘n bothered,” Eddie teased. “Don’t even deny it.”

Steve covered his eyes with his hand. “God, it was so bad.”

“Dude.” Eddie grinned. “Dude, you literally threatened me with a bear trap in the RV once.”

“Because I thought you were trying to seduce her with your metalhead charm and fingerless gloves.”

Eddie choked on a restrained laugh.

“I hated,” Steve muttered, “I hated feeling like that.”

“Did you even realize you were jealous?”

“No, I didn’t understand it,” Steve admitted. “Didn’t know why it pissed me off, why I wanted to knock you out every time you made her laugh.”

Eddie leaned closer, still whispering. “You wanna know what pissed me off?”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

The metalhead smirked devilishly. “The way she never looked at me like that.”

That shut Steve right the hell up.

Eddie shrugged. “I figured it out before you did. That’s all I’m saying.”

Steve just sighed. Then he smiled, for real this time. “You figured out a lot of things before I did.”

“Still do,” Eddie muttered. “And relax, it was never that deep, and no. It didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“Oh good. I was starting to feel heartbroken for you.”

Eddie snorted at that deadpan, sarcastic, classy-sassy Steve Harrington response. He had to duck his head to keep from waking the whole tank. 

Even Steve’s shoulders bounced with silent laughter. “Can’t even blame you” he murmured. “Would like to, but I can’t. Not even a little.”

A soft smirk graced Eddie’s features in the dark. “Nothing wrong with developing a little apocalypse crush when you have a warrant out for your arrest.”

“Yeah, you were a real winner on the market,” the pretty boy smirked back.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie winked. “It was unrequited.”

“And fleeting, it seems.”

“Very. But not because I lost interest. Just… because life gave me better reasons to want her around.” Eddie took a beat. “Also, ‘cause I knew she was in love with you.”

Steve’s face sobered.

“I saw the way you looked at her earlier,” Eddie mumbled. “Right before she passed out. It looked like someone had cut your oxygen line.”

Steve’s throat worked around nothing.

“I know her heart’s fucked,” Eddie whispered. “Alright, we both know what happened at that fence.”

Steve nodded, wordlessly aching.

“But she’s still here,” Eddie remarked gently. “And you’re still here. Right here. And you’re not gonna lose her.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Keeps getting too close.”

Eddie studied him. “She’s still fighting. Even in her sleep.”

Steve looked down at you again.

“You know what I think?” Eddie said. “I think she’s staying alive just to prove the universe wrong.”

A long pause followed that statement.

Then Steve whispered, “You wanna know the real fucked up part?”

Eddie raised a brow.

“I think she would’ve made it either way,” Steve’s gaze had now stared into space, lost again. “Even without me.”

Eddie leaned in as he held his breath before Steve added...

“…but I wouldn’t have.”

There wasn’t a single ounce of yet in that statement. But even though Steve knew it, knew better than to think that, his doubts still got the better of him. His worst fears, the voice in his head telling him that he wasn’t good rough. Wasn’t worthy of love that stayed and loved him back just as strongly, just has hard, as he loves.

Which is why Eddie wasn’t gonna let it fly.

“You and I both know,” he began carefully, voice low but firm, absolute, “damn well… she wouldn’t survive it if you were gone.”

Steve’s brows pinched, his gaze still locked on you. He swallowed thickly, hesitating before giving a singe nod.

“…I watched her, Harrington,” Eddie continues, reminding him. “When we all left Hawkins. Split up. Found safety, not knowing if we’d see you guys again.” He takes a beat, a chill running down his spine as he thinks about how close they’d all come to not being back together again. “If it weren’t for how stubbornly strong she is? She wouldn’t have made it. If it weren’t for these kids—your kids, her kids? The ones you’ve both been coparenting like unpaid dual babysitters since this whole shit show started while I was just… selling shit weed to miserable stunts? Blissfully unaware?” He paused, shrugging one shoulder. But his eyes were fierce. “She wouldn’t have let you send her off first. Those kids are the only thing that kept her going. Not me. Not even Robin.”

The tank was silent as Steve stared down at you like you were the only star left in the sky. “She’s the reason I’m still…” he whispered, trailing off. “I can’t—fuck, I won’t be without her.”

Eddie watched him quietly. 

Listening to this is hard. Seeing Steve struggling like this was hard. Watching the guilt continue to gnaw at him like this in real time was fucking hard.

But then he smiled. “Then don’t be.”

Steve looked at him now, the spell slightly broken.

“So you’re not the guy who needed to figure it out all those years ago,” Eddie said quietly. “But that’s ‘cause you’re the guy who figured it out just in time.”

Steve’s expression crumpled, just for a second. 

He blinked hard, letting that land square in the chest.

And then you shifted subtly in your sleep. Brows pinching faintly, a little hummed sigh escaping you…

Steve immediately pressed his nose to your temple and whispered something low and inaudible. You melted… as if your body knew it was safe, and remembered why it was safe… even as you slept. And then selfishly, even though he knew it might wake you, he went ahead and let the sharp tip of his nose nuzzle against yours. Gingerly, tenderly… devotedly.

Eddie watched it happen, eyes wide and soft. Then he slowly laid back down, a gentle sigh escaping him.

“You’re a softie, Harrington,” he whispered.

Steve exhaled. “Shut up.”

“Can’t believe you got the girl.”

“Can’t believe I almost didn’t.”

Eddie shook his head and let his eyes close, still grinning. “Get some sleep, man.”

Steve didn’t answer. But Eddie didn’t expect him to. Nor did he expect him to get some rest at all.

The tank stayed quiet. No winds. No snow. No signs of movement outside. Just the slow, steady breathing of the person Steve would die to protect.

He watched you.

Unblinking.

Not sleeping.

Not letting you out of his sight.

Not daring let another day pass him by, where he didn’t gaze at you with pure love instead of hate. You were still alive. And as far as Steve Harrington was concerned… 

That was everything.

🖤

Forever dedicated to Cherie & @aloneinthehellfire 🖤

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Robin can’t help but giggle in delight. She loves Steve with her whole heart, but she’s got a special place there for cringe-loser Steve. It’s a nice reminder that even though he was once the certified King of Hawkins High, he was still a fumbling teenager like the rest of them. 

Besides, she lives vicariously through all his sexual adventures. Sure, the details sometimes make her gag, but Steve doesn’t have that many friends his own age; he hasn’t slept with or wants to sleep with, so it’s her duty to be there for him. And, yeah, okay, she might take mental note of things he says that really work for women for when her time to blow someone away in bed comes, but that’s her business and no one else's is. She’d actually rather die a brutal and tragic death than admit she gets her sex advice from Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” 

Robin does her best to calm down. Is she saving this tidbit of information for a rainy day when he’s trying to act like a sex god around her? Absolutely. But for now, she’ll cut him some slack. Not too much, though, that wouldn’t be fun. 

“Eddie probably would have benefited from that technique.” 

Steve doesn’t hesitate, walloping her with a pillow. She holds her hands up in surrender. She’s not above begging for his forgiveness, but thankfully, she doesn’t have to. Steve puts the pillow down and then, to her surprise, lets out a chuckle of his own. 

“Okay, wait, if that is number one. Where does Eddie fall on the list? Number 2 or 3?” Robin asks when she’s finally come down. 

Steve should never have brought up this stupid list. He sighs and drags his hand down his now rosey colored face, “Number 2.” 

“Number 2?” Robin shrieks, playfully hitting Steve’s shoulder. “How could it be that bad that it’s second to putting it in the wrong hole?” 

“He took my pants off, called my dick pretty, and I creamed… in his eye.” 

It takes a second for the words to register, and then Robin wretches. “Why would you tell me that?” 

“You asked!” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to paint such a vivid picture!” She gags and squeezes her eyes shut. It doesn’t help. The image of Steve, stark naked in front of a kneeling Eddie, is seared into her eyelids. She tries to shake her head violently, but all that does is give motion to the already disturbing scene being played out by her subconscious. 

“It wasn’t even that vivid a picture. I could have said—“ 

“Do not finish that sentence,” Robin threatens. “I’m going to need therapy.” 

“You’re going to need therapy. I’m going to need therapy! How am I supposed to look at Eddie ever again?” 

Just then, there’s frendsied footsteps outside their door. Robin peers over, not even needing to get up to see through the window that overlooks their small porch, and spots a familiar head of wild curls. She turns back to Steve with a wicked grin. 

“Well, you'd better figure it out because lover boy is about to knock.” 

Eddie doesn’t disappoint, delivering his trademark triple knock; this time with enough force that Robin worries about the integrity of the door. 

“Steve!” Eddie shouts. “I know you’re in there, Steve! You can’t hide from me forever.” 

“Oh, God,” Steve moans. “What am I going to do?” 

“Well,” Robin says, standing up from the couch. “You’re going to open the door. I imagine he’s going to tell you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about and that your little problem—“ Robin gags “— was actually hot and that you should do it again sometime.” 

“You think he’ll say that?” 

Robin peers out the window again. “He looks like he’s ready to rip your clothes off the minute you open the door, so yeah, I do. And since that’s the case. I’m going out.” 

Robin barely has time to get herself through the door before Eddie shoulders his way through, practically tackling Steve in the process. She hears the start of Eddie’s confession, something about being “flattered” and “wanting to try again,” and that’s enough for her. She closes the door and heads to the left, where the waitress, aka Diner Girl, at the local diner will let her sit in her section for hours without having to order anything. 

“With Steve,” Tommy grits out.

Robin lets herself take a second. Tommy’s scraggly-edged words, rough-hewn like they were dragged from between sandpaper and not his teeth. She’s withstood Russian torture, so she feels fine, blinking in silent contemplation in Carol’s face. There’s a puzzle in front of her, and the blue pieces will eventually make a sky if she looks at them long enough.

Maybe if she tilts her head like Steve.

Carol breaks first, her face stays the same, but her tone shakes with a rage Robin didn’t know she could have. “It was one thing when you were palling around the mall, but we’ve seen the paper.”

“Do you even know him?” Tommy snaps, a dog reaching the end of his chain.

And there’s the sky. The picture is starting to shape up.

“I think if anyone should be asking about intentions, it’s me,” Robin says. She’s been looking for something to kill the time since Steve went home early. This feels like a gift in a way.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Carol’s eyes harden. Robin suspects that this is supposed to be scary, but Steve did the exact same thing last week when Dustin called him an old buzzkill.

“Steve almost died in March, and you’re swanning in during the summer to… prove a point?”

“Of course not!” The first real emotion she’s seen splashes dramatically across Carol’s face. Cheeks pinkening like Robin had struck out with her hand and not just her words. Her hand rips back from the counter to clutch at her chest. Tommy looks green, no longer the dog, now he’s the kid who saw Fido on the roadside.

“There are really only so many conclusions to come to. You came in here to..? Threaten me? What was the plan here?”

“You don’t even know him!” Tommy snaps, accusation instead of supposition. 

She isn’t about to dignify that with a response. There isn’t a person in the world she knows as well as Steve.

Which, unfortunately, means she knows these guys pretty well too.

“He has allergies,” Tommy continues, “he has food stuff.”

Actually, maybe it’s kind of sweet that they’re here. One-on-one, she has a chance to fuse the versions of Tommy and Carol that she knows from school with the ones she’s learned from Steve. Just like she’s fused bagel Steve with her soulmate and life partner Steve.

“He’s allergic to penicillin, and he tells people he’s allergic to mushrooms because he doesn’t like how they feel in his mouth. He’ll only eat one brand of any food, and he can tell the difference. The only mac and cheese he likes is the kind your mom made.” She points to Tommy and his gaping mouth, staring him down so he knows this is both an acknowledgement and a threat.  “We have the recipe memorized, and I probably make it better than she does.”

Carol waves a hand in front of her face, breaking her winning staring contest; the heartbreak that had once been there schooled back into something brow arching and haughty that’s more familiar to Robin. “He’s been in the hospital often enough; you better know his allergies and every single injury, surgery, and follow-up he’s had.”

Robin does. And she’s also making note of what a real tonal threat sounds like. There’s a little bit of hate in her heart as she thinks that Carol would probably pick up a tonal language, like the Mandarin Robin has been trying to learn through Linguaphone, a lot faster than her. Strange that hate has her stomach squirming like this.

“I know everything about him. I know things about Steve he doesn’t even know about himself. I know he has trouble reading. Do you know why?”

Tommy’s lips pinch into a freckly pucker; she doesn’t see anything schoolboy-ish or charming about it, but she also knows that Steve does. Carol’s jaw clenches hard enough that it jumps, which she can see a certain charm in.

Still, she doesn’t let the question linger long enough for them to get over themselves to answer. “He’s probably dyslexic, but he thinks everyone has trouble with letters moving, so he thinks it’s a personal moral failing that he has trouble.

“I know that he’s tricked himself into being a morning person. Why do you think that is?”

Robin holds her hand up to her ear as she asks this one, poking it out toward her stony-faced audience.

She’s kind of on a roll, though, monologuing instead of the interrogation that she had planned. Last summer, she had laughed through the threat of bone saws, the drugs in her system turning abuse into a comical mishap, but the very implication that she didn’t know her dingus was torture enough to have her spilling her guts.

“It’s because he thinks if he gets up early enough, he won’t have to wake up alone.

“I know about things he’s afraid of that you’ve got no idea of. So you tell me: what do you want? You don’t even know me, why the hell do you think you can decide whether I’m good enough for him?”

Tommy is a little hangdog, slumping at the shoulders and ducking his head. It reminds her of Steve, and it’s distressing how much it does to endear him to her.

“I know about you, Robin Buckley,” Carol says, and beneath it, she can hear the phantom sound of her middle name.

Pulling her shoulders back, she draws herself up to her full height. Easily a head taller than Carol, whose chin tilts up to keep her narrowed eye contact, the girl across from her feels as much of a challenger as the former Soviet whose tactics she’d failed to emulate.

Carol squares herself to the counter, pulling the hip that had been balanced against it away and blocking off Tommy from the conversation. “I know you sat behind Steve in Click’s class. We shared a math class three years in a row. You sat in the back, making snide comments because you aren’t as wholesome and sweet as you pretend to be. It’s a good thing you got rid of that awful perm before you all started working together, or Steve never would have given you the time of day.”

She cocks her head to the side, assessing, before her lips pull into something approximating a smile. “He’s trimming your bangs for you. You keep them too shaggy on your own.”

Short, almond nails, painted pink, are reaching toward her face, her hair, and Robin is… She’s stunned. Speechless and flustered. Carol has always been beautiful; time away at whatever college she picked hasn’t changed that.

“Care,” Tommy warns. She pulls her hand away.

Carol looks flustered too. Or as flustered as she ever looks. The hand that almost touched her is clutched tight in the unoffending one. There’s a flush that stains the high points of her cheeks, but she doesn’t duck her chin. Her eyes are a storm cloud locked onto Robin’s.

“Steve isn’t a fancy house, and the promise of a future trust fund. He’s…”

“Comfort,” Tommy says.

“Gentle.”

“Safe,” Robin can’t help but add.

She takes the time to look them both in the eyes as she does. She understands. She continues. “He’s all that for more people than just you now. Can you deal with that?”

The cross of Tommy’s arms has shifted lower, clutching at an old pain. Carol’s chin wobbles, but her lips are drawn into a tight line.

Tells, she knows it’s time to start asking questions again.

“What are your intentions?

“What do you want with him?

“What are you going to do?

“Why should I let you?”

Carol sneers at that, the tight press of her lips breaking up into a curl. “Sign some papers at the courthouse, and you think you can make decisions for him?”

But every interrogation has a weak point. Tommy breaks. “We miss him.” It undercuts nothing.

Beside the phone is a yellow pad of paper, one that she and Steve mostly use to write notes while on the phone with annoying customers. The remains of an attempt at tic-tac-toe and hangman sit on the top page that she crumples in her fist before she starts writing.

“He should either be in bed or on the couch when you get there. If he’s trying to work through the migraine to do chores, force him back into one of those spots.”

“Migraines?”

“He gets those now, thank your pal Billy.” She loves Max like family, but she has no problem letting her tone suggest all the ill she thinks of the dead.

Carol doesn’t either. “He wasn’t our pal.”

“Steve got hurt that bad?” Tommy asks.

“I sent him home early cause the lights were making him nauseous, but she should still feel okay enough that you can apologize. I’ll be checking your work, so make it a good one.”

Carol’s hand is soft, warm, as she presses the note into it. The one that shoots out to grab her wrist and stop her from letting go is iron. Her breath is a bubble caught in her throat. If this goes the way these two want, she’s going to have to learn how to be around Carol.

“What is this?” She asks. Her voice is soft as her grip pulls Robin closer, holds tighter as the counter bites into her hips.

“Some things have changed with him. There are things that bother him more: lights, smells. It’s a cheat sheet.”

“I doubt we’ll need that.” It folds in the tightening of her fist.

“Well, you remember where the house is. He better still be in one piece when I get there.” Tommy is already making for the door. It’s strange to watch him clamber into something other than the Beamer, stranger to see him in the driver’s seat even.

But as the engine rumbles to life outside, Carol is still holding onto her.

“I don’t know how you turned this around on us,” she admits.

“You might have been the first to torture me, but you definitely weren’t the best.”

“If pigtail pulling is your idea of torture, I can’t believe you managed to marry Steve.”

“Steve is the biggest romantic I’ve ever met. Wait-”

A long, tied F# plays, Tommy leaning on the car horn.

Carol smirks, following him out the door. She’d found the upper hand again.

She pulls up Carol’s account, adds, then deletes a failure-to-rewind fee. She pages through a rental history full of things she’s heard Steve call favorites and spotted with things that are actually good.

When Steve is feeling better, she’s going to pull him into the bathroom and force him to answer some suddenly pressing questions she has about his old friends. With three hours left on her shift, those nursemaids have just enough time to help Steve through the worst of this mild attack, if they follow the directions she sent. On the way home, she’ll grab everyone’s favorite pizza: Steve’s plain cheese and a half-pepperoni, half-anchovy monstrosity for the others.

It’s an olive branch or maybe another fired shot across their ship. Proof that in knowing Steve, she knows them too. They’re all linked together now, even if Tommy and Carol aren’t ready to admit it, and Steve doesn’t know it yet. That’s marriage, she thinks, what’s his is hers. 

“I didn’t pass shit and we all know it.” Eddie falls onto his back with a thump that makes Steve wince, but Eddie waves him off. “They just took pity on me after three tries and, oh, I don’t know, forming a witch hunt after me.”

Robin throws her head back and groans loud enough that several people milling about the lot turn toward them. Steve glares at the gawkers where he’s leaned against the side of the car until they all turn away.

“There was no pity involved, you piece of shit. You had the grades before the spring break from hell. All Hopper did was,” Robin wrings her hands in her lap, cocks her head, “kindly tell them that you had clearly shown your intellectual prowess enough to get your diploma.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hopper? Kindly? Yeah, next time you wanna lie to my face, Buckley, choose better adjectives.”

“Munson, I swear–”

“I just can’t believe they still forced finals on everyone after everything.” Steve squints against the setting sun, arms crossed across his chest. “You’d think the town, I don’t know, splitting open and, like, a quarter of the student body just,” he throws his hands up, makes a poof gesture, “disappearing would make them waive the rest of the year, or whatever, for everyone.”

“You have far too much faith in the American education system, my dear Stevie.” Eddie laments. 

They fall into silence, staring at the school that they’d spent far too many years, and, for Steve, far too much Upside Down related bullshit, in. People are slowly drifting out to their cars, laughing, hugging, talking about summer plans, which Steve finds kind of laughable himself considering summer in Hawkins has never been anything to celebrate, and even less so now with the state of everything. He watches as the cars pull away one by one, until all that’s left are the three of them and a few displaced graduation caps and tassels across the lot.

Steve turns to look at Eddie, the setting sun casting him in a beautiful shade of orange. “You did earn your diploma, by the way, Eddie.”

“Oh, don’t you go lyin’ to me too, now, sweetheart.”

Robin laughs. “Oh, yeah, he’s not. I think he’s basically incapable. He’s like, so bad, it’s honestly hilarious. There was one time, Jessica Randal came in asking him on a date and–”

Steve slams his hand across her mouth. “Robin!”

Eddie perks up, props up on his elbows. “Oh? Do tell, Buckley. What did our dear Stevie do when faced with the visage of Jessica Randal?” 

“I will buy you both your celebration dinners if you shut up right now and never bring this up again.” Steve spits out, glaring at both of them in the process. 

“Is my, what was it, ‘intellectual prowess,’ only worth a singular dinner, sweetheart?” Eddie hums. “I don’t know, this Jessica Randal story seems to be worth a bit more than that.”

Steve sighs. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“From you? Oh, Stevie, you have no idea.” Eddie chuckles, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. Steve tracks the movement almost subconsciously, watches as the oranges and yellows of the sunset glisten across Eddie’s lips, making them, like, goddamn sparkle, or some shit. Eddie chuckles, catches his eye.

Steve swallows thickly, tries to will back some of his former confidence in his response. “Ye–yeah? Care to enlighten me?” Yep, super confident there, Steve. Good job.

Eddie’s eyes glint as he pulls himself up to sitting. He leans forward, snakes a finger through Steve’s belt loop, and tugs slightly. “Oh, I’ll enlighten you any night of the week, big boy.”

Just then, Steve feels something hot and wet on his hand, followed by teeth sharp enough to make him jump back with a yelp. “What the hell?”

Robin wipes her mouth off on her gown. “Can you two not obnoxiously flirt in front of me? At least let me rack in that free post-grad dinner first.” She jumps down, walks over and opens the passenger door, chucks her graduation cap and gown into the floorboard.

“Uh, wh– flirting?” Steve stammers, looking between them. Robin stares back unimpressed. Eddie smirks.

“Yes, Steve, flirting, which you two can do over dinner, because if you don’t put food in me right now, I think I might explode. Why is graduation so long?” Robin slumps into the car, slamming the door behind her.

“Don’t slam the fucking door just because you’re mad at graduation!” Steve yells. Robin flips him off through the window. 

Eddie laughs, grabs his crutches, and drops down to the ground. Steve helps him to the back door, moves to open it, but Eddie stops him. Steve lifts his brow in question. 

Eddie leans forward and hesitantly kisses Steve on the cheek. “In case it wasn’t clear, I am 100% flirting with you, sweetheart. Have been, in fact. You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Eddie pulls back, a shaky grin to his face as he opens the door and slides into the backseat, crutches tossed into the floorboard with his cap and gown. Robin and Eddie immediately launch into a debate over where Steve should take them to celebrate.

Steve shuts the back door, a dazed look to his eye as he moves to the driver’s door and slides into the car. As he leaves the lot, Hawkins High nothing more than a memory, he catches Eddie’s eye in the rearview mirror and smiles. 

Maybe there’s some things worth getting excited for this summer, after all.

tags: @sunshine-daydreams0809 @saramelaniemoon

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

thanks for reading :))