Steve Harrington’s having one of those weeks.

Eddie wants to brainstorm a new campaign and keeps calling him “Himbo Bard” like it’s a compliment. Robin’s insisting he needs to stop flirting with girls he doesn’t actually want to date. And Nancy—well, Nancy has been giving him these little looks, the kind that make him wonder if she still sees parts of the old him.

The lost, trying-too-hard version. He doesn't like that.

So when Dustin asks him to pick him up for Hellfire after school, Steve jumps at the chance. Something easy. Something familiar.

He pulls up in front of the Henderson house right as the afternoon heat starts to melt into golden haze.

Hawkins is sticky this time of year—quiet, bugs humming, the air heavy with that particular scent of cut grass and nostalgia.

The kind of day that feels like a movie just before something changes.

Steve taps the steering wheel, sunglasses on, waiting.

The front door swings open like a storm. Dustin comes charging out with his bag half-zipped, curly hair frizzed up like he’s been running around since lunch. He's shouting back into the house, voice high-pitched with indignation.

“I told you, I don’t need a jacket! I’m not gonna freeze to death in a temperature-controlled room, Mom!”

Steve leans out the driver’s side window. “You fightin’ the entire climate again?”

Dustin flips him off without looking. “I’m fightin’ oppression.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, tell oppression to zip your backpack before it explodes.”

But Dustin isn’t listening anymore. He’s already shouting again, this time toward the side of the house.

“Y/N! You coming tonight or what?”

Steve leans forward a little, curious. He’s heard Dustin mention his brother in passing—a few stories here and there. You were older.

Did something with music. Liked “weird art films” and refused to help Dustin cheat on his algebra homework even when begged.

But he’s never actually seen you.

Not until now.

You’re perched at the edge of the porch, a slim book in one hand and a can of soda sweating in the other. You’ve got sunglasses on even though the sun’s already starting to dip.

Your legs are kicked out in front of you, ankles crossed lazily, and there’s a pair of over-ear headphones hanging around your neck, one side still slightly playing a muted drum beat.

You don’t look up right away. You just keep reading, flipping a page with your thumb.

“Y/N!” Dustin yells again, hands on his hips like a mom at the end of her rope.

Finally, you glance up. Slowly. Like you’re weighing whether it’s even worth the energy.

“Didn’t Blake bail on work again?” you ask, voice quiet but distinct. Calm. Kinda raspy, like you’d just woken up or maybe didn’t care enough to pretend.

“Probably!” Dustin calls back. “But you said if he flaked, you’d come!”

You sigh like you’ve already regretted making that deal. “I said maybe, not promise. There’s a difference.”

Steve watches the whole exchange with mild amusement.

There’s something about you that’s... unbothered. The kind of cool that isn't about clothes or cliques—it’s just baked into how you move, how you don’t move unless you want to.

Dustin gestures toward the car. “Steve’s here! Just ride with us!”

You finally turn your eyes to Steve.

He feels it. The click.

Even behind your sunglasses, he swears you’re looking right through him. Not in a mean way. Just... curious. Calm. Like you’re deciding if he’s worth your attention.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

You give a small, two-finger wave. “Hey.”

It’s not shy. It’s not warm, either. Just simple.

Steve clears his throat. “Uh. Hey.”

Dustin walks toward the car, oblivious. “This is Steve. You probably know him from, like... every girl’s locker in 1985.”

You snort.

Steve flushes a little.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about you,” you say, still looking at him.

“Oh.” Steve shifts, suddenly aware of how he's leaning too hard on the door. “Good things, I hope?”

You shrug. “Mixed reviews.”

Dustin howls with laughter as he gets in the passenger seat.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek and forces a smile. “Tough crowd.”

You smirk. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He opens his mouth to reply—but you’re already putting your headphones back on, lifting the book, retreating into your little bubble of calm again.

Steve stares for a second too long. Then snaps out of it.

He gets in the car, trying not to let his face give him away.

Dustin’s still grinning. “You totally froze up.”

“I did not.”

“You did, dude. You were, like, blushing.”

“I was not blushing—”

“You want me to introduce you again next time? Maybe say you’re single and emotionally available?”

Steve throws the car into gear a little harder than necessary. “Keep talking and I’ll make you walk.”

Dustin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh, man. This is gonna be good.”

---

As they drive off, Steve glances in the rearview mirror. You’re still there on the porch, book in hand, but your head’s tilted just slightly—like maybe, just maybe, you’re watching the car pull away too.

---

It starts with a song.

Steve doesn’t even realize it’s one you were humming the last time he saw you until it comes on the Family Video speakers, some dreamy B-side from The Cure, just after closing. Robin’s in the back pretending to organize tapes but mostly just slapping labels on things that don’t need them.

“Did you put this on?” Steve asks.

Robin peeks her head around the aisle, eyebrows arched.

“You’ve worked here for a year and still don’t know how the rotation schedule works?”

“No—I mean—” Steve waves vaguely at the speakers.

“This song. Just reminded me of... never mind.”

Robin narrows her eyes. “Reminded you of who, Harrington?”

“No one,” Steve says way too fast.

She walks around the counter, crossing her arms. “You are being weird lately.”

“I’m not being weird,” Steve says. “I’m just... thinking.”

Robin snorts. “I’ve seen you think before. It usually involves staring into the middle distance and chewing on a pen cap. This is different. You’ve got that soft crush energy.”

Steve’s face burns. “I do not have soft crush energy.”

“Oh really? Because yesterday, when we were at the arcade, and Dustin mentioned his brother might show up, you whipped your head around like a golden retriever on espresso.”

Steve glares at her. “I did not.”

Robin leans on the counter, chin in hand. “Is it the hair? The voice? Is he older and smarter than you? That’d make sense.”

“I don’t even know him,” Steve says, flustered. “He barely said five words.”

Robin hums. “Must’ve been five very hot words.”

Steve groans and buries his face in his hands.

---

It gets worse later that night...

He’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and the scene keeps playing in his head.

The slow wave you gave him. That effortless, unreadable smirk. The way you sat on the porch like you weren’t waiting for anyone, like time moved around you.

He thinks about how your voice dipped when you said, “Mixed reviews.”

And the way you looked at him—really looked.

He swears you knew.

He rolls onto his stomach, face in a pillow.

God, he’s so obvious.

---

Saturday – Eddie’s Garage

Steve’s sprawled on a beat-up couch in Eddie’s garage while Eddie tunes his guitar and complains about Mike screwing up another campaign.

“I mean, he’s a good kid,” Eddie says, twisting a knob, “but you miss one session and suddenly everyone thinks they’re the dungeon master.”

“Right,” Steve mutters, barely listening.

Eddie glances up. “You alright, man? You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you pretend to listen but you’re secretly spiraling inside.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Steve lies.

“Uh-huh. Is this about Nancy?”

“No.”

“Robin?”

“No.”

“...Dustin’s brother?”

Steve freezes. “What?”

Eddie grins, smug. “Bingo.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Steve says defensively.

Eddie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen that look on your face before. You’ve got the ‘I think he’s hot and he intimidates me’ stare.”

Steve leans back and groans. “He just—he’s so—calm. Like, he’s not trying. And when I talk, I feel like I’m in a middle school play.”

Eddie chuckles. “You’re not used to being the awkward one, huh?”

Steve mutters, “It sucks.”

Eddie flicks a pick at him. “You’re fine, Romeo. Just don’t try too hard. You’ll crash and burn.”

---

Sunday – Wheeler’s House

Steve and Nancy are in the living room with Dustin and Mike, sorting through board games that somehow migrated into the garage.

Dustin is holding court, naturally.

“So Steve’s been acting super weird,” Dustin says, like he’s announcing global news.

Steve snaps his head up. “No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Mike says. “He showed up early to pick me up. He’s never early.”

Nancy looks up from the game box. “Is this about Y/N?”

Steve nearly drops the Clue board.

Dustin squints. “Wait. What about Y/N?”

Nancy blinks innocently. “Oh, I just figured. He’s been kinda... watching Steve lately.”

Silence.

Steve’s face goes blank. “Wait. What?”

Nancy smiles slightly. “You didn’t notice?”

Steve is spiraling.

Dustin looks from Nancy to Steve and howls. “OH MY GOD.”

Steve rubs his face. “No. No no no. Don’t start—”

“YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON MY BROTHER!”

“Dustin, I swear—”

“This is disgusting! I’m telling Mom. I’m telling EVERYONE.”

“You are not—!”

“Do you wanna MARRY him?! Are you gonna be my brother-in-law?!”

“Dustin—”

Nancy’s laughing softly behind a hand while Mike looks vaguely horrified.

“Wow,” Mike mutters. “Now I can’t unsee it.”

---

Later that night – Steve’s House

Robin’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, holding a grape soda.

“So let me get this straight. You’re crushing on Dustin’s older brother, and Nancy thinks he might be into you, and Dustin wants to exile you from Hawkins.”

Steve sinks into the cushions. “That about covers it.”

Robin pats his leg. “You’ve had worse weeks.”

Steve sighs. “He’s just... different.”

Robin tilts her head. “Different how?”

Steve shrugs. “He doesn’t try to be cool. He just is. And when I talk to him, it’s like... I don’t know. I forget how to be a person.”

Robin hums. “That’s kind of sweet. And tragic.”

Steve kicks at the rug. “I don’t even know how to start.”

She pauses. “You know, he works at Vinyl Alley, right?”

Steve looks at her slowly. “How do you know that?”

Robin grins. “Please. I’ve had a crush on him since junior year.”

Steve nearly chokes. “WHAT?”

“I’m over it. Relax,” she says. “I mean... not totally, but I like chaos, so I support this.”

Steve groans. “I need help.”

Robin clinks her soda can against his knee. “You need to just talk to him.”

Steve mutters into his hands. “Yeah. Right. Easy.”

Robin smirks. “Or, you could keep making puppy eyes from twenty feet away. That’s a solid long-term strategy.”

Steve throws a pillow at her.

---

It’s just past six when Steve pulls up to the Henderson house, thinking he’ll grab Dustin for movie night with Robin and Eddie.

It’s supposed to be a distraction. Keep things light. Keep his brain from looping around the way you looked at him a week ago—half bored, half curious, all center of gravity.

He hops out of his car, slicks his hair back once out of habit, and jogs up the driveway.

No sign of Dustin.

He knocks once. Waits.

No answer.

Then the screen door creaks open, and there you are.

Leaning against the frame like you’ve been there for hours. Barefoot, with a loose T-shirt that hangs perfectly, sleeves rolled a few times.

You’ve got a ring of condensation around your hand from a lemonade can. There’s music playing low from somewhere inside the house—Mazzy Star or maybe Cocteau Twins. Steve doesn’t know, but it fits you.

Your gaze is easy, slow-moving, like you already clocked him before the car even turned off.

“Dustin’s not here,” you say.

“Oh,” Steve says, heart immediately catching in his throat. “I—uh—he said to pick him up?”

You shrug, stepping onto the porch. “Probably got caught up at Lucas’s. He’s been biking over there after dinner a lot.”

Steve blinks. “Right. Yeah. Cool.”

You glance at the street. Then back at him. “You drove all the way here?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Thought we were gonna watch Predator or something. Eddie said he had this whole commentary planned.”

You hum. “That sounds... unbearable.”

Steve laughs, more at himself than anything. “You’ve met him.”

“I’ve survived him,” you reply, lips twitching into a smile. “Wanna sit? Porch’s not that exciting, but it’s better than standing there sweating.”

“Sure,” Steve says, a little too fast.

You sit first, folding into the wooden chair like you belong there. Like you’re part of the furniture, part of the air. Steve chooses the chair beside you, not too close.

The space between you hums a little louder than it should.

It’s quiet for a while. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

You crack your can open again. The fizz breaks the silence.

Steve tries not to stare at your fingers.

“So...” you say, almost lazily. “You’re the guy who picks Dustin up like clockwork.”

Steve chuckles. “Somebody’s gotta keep him alive.”

“True,” you say, eyes half-lidded behind the dying light. “He listens to you more than he listens to me.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“No,” you agree. “But still.”

More silence.

Steve wants to fill it. He wants to ask you if you’ve always lived in Hawkins, what kind of music you like, whether you’ve ever felt like you were supposed to be somewhere else—someone else.

Instead, he says, “What’re you listening to?”

You tilt your head slightly, like the question caught you off guard.

Then you reach for the portable cassette player on the table beside you, flip it around so he can see the label.

“Red House Painters – Rollercoaster.”

He nods slowly. “Never heard of it.”

You give him a sideways look. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Steve laughs under his breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got... radio taste,” you say. “Like, safe taste.”

He smiles. “You’re not wrong. I was more of a Top 40 guy.”

“And now?”

Steve shrugs. “Trying to listen to other things.”

You lean back, one knee bouncing slightly. “Trying to impress someone?”

That hits.

Steve looks at you, eyes flicking to your mouth and then away. “Maybe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is it working?”

He pauses. “Am I trying too hard?”

“No,” you say easily. “Trying too hard would mean you’re saying things you don’t mean.”

Steve looks at you again, slower this time.

“And I don’t think you’re doing that,” you finish, voice quiet.

The cicadas buzz louder in the trees. A neighbor’s sprinkler clicks on across the street. Somewhere inside, a clock ticks.

Steve swallows. “You don’t talk like other people.”

You huff a soft laugh. “You don’t either. You just think you do.”

He looks down at his shoes, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Robin says I act like a golden retriever when I have a crush.”

Your head tilts, just slightly. “Do you?”

“I didn’t think so,” he says, shrugging. “But lately? Kinda feels like it.”

He looks up.

You’re watching him now. Really watching.

The smirk you wore earlier is gone, replaced with something more grounded. Thoughtful.

You shift a little in your seat, angling toward him.

“That’s the thing with you, Harrington,” you say, voice just above a whisper. “You don’t hide things very well.”

Steve’s heart thumps loud in his chest. “That bad, huh?”

“No,” you say simply. “That honest.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. And for once, he doesn’t feel like he has to.

The two of you sit in the warmth, the kind of quiet that stretches like a yawn.

The song from inside fades into another one—slower, sadder. Steve doesn’t recognize it either, but it makes his throat tight.

You lean forward to grab your drink again, and your knee brushes his.

Neither of you moves.

Steve feels electricity crawl up his leg, warm and searching. He doesn’t look away from you. And you don’t look away either.

Eventually, you sit back.

“You’re better company than I thought you’d be,” you say casually.

Steve grins. “I get that a lot.”

You smile. Real this time. Not cocky, not distant. Just there.

Before Steve can say anything else, the distant sound of wheels on pavement echoes from around the corner.

Dustin.

You sigh through your nose. “Saved by the little brother.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, barely hearing it.

You stand slowly, stretching, the hem of your shirt lifting slightly.

Steve catches a glimpse of the soft curve of your waist, a hint of ink near your ribs. He looks away before he stares.

As Dustin’s bike screeches into the driveway, yelling something about Lucas being the worst teammate in D&D history, you nudge Steve lightly with your elbow.

“See you around, golden retriever.”

He freezes.

You smirk.

And just like that, you’re back inside, the screen door creaking shut behind you.

Steve watches it swing until it stills. And even when Dustin’s hopping in the passenger seat, still ranting about Mike and Eddie and his dice rolls, Steve’s brain is still on you.

And that quiet moment on the porch.

That brush of your knee.

And the smile you didn’t let anyone else see.

---

It happens again a few days later.

The air is thick with leftover heat, that sticky summer cling that hangs around after the sun dips below the trees. Streetlights flicker on like they’re yawning awake, fireflies blink lazily in the shrubs, and somewhere down the block, a lawn sprinkler ticks in time with the chirp of crickets.

Steve’s car rolls up quiet in front of your house.

It’s not planned. He tells himself he just happened to be driving by.

But the way his palms are sweating against the steering wheel says otherwise. He parks and sits for a full minute, watching your porch light glow through the screen door.

He could leave.

He should leave.

But then the door opens—and there you are, stepping out barefoot again, holding two bottles of orange soda by their necks.

You see him and smile like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You just gonna lurk there, Harrington? Or you want one of these?”

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he gets out of the car. “Do you read minds or something?”

“No,” you say, handing him a soda. “You’re just predictable in a charming, lost-puppy kind of way.”

Steve flushes but doesn’t argue.

You sit on the steps this time, not the chairs.

He drops down beside you, leaving a sliver of space between your knees. It’s quiet except for the bottle caps hitting the porch and the fizz of carbonation as you both take a drink.

After a long silence, you speak first.

“Rough night?”

Steve exhales slowly. “Just been... thinking.”

You nod, slow. “Dangerous habit.”

He smiles weakly. “Yeah.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say something,” he finally admits.

You glance at him, brows raised slightly.

“Something I haven’t really said out loud before,” Steve continues, staring straight ahead.

“I’m listening,” you say, voice gentle now—none of the teasing from before. Just there with him.

Steve fidgets with the label on the bottle.

“I’ve always been good at liking girls. Or, like... thinking I liked them. It was simple. Easy. You get a girlfriend, you hold hands, people nod at you in the hallway like you’re doing something right.”

You don’t interrupt. You don’t look away.

“But lately...” Steve trails off, then huffs out a breath. “It’s not that I don’t like girls. It’s just... they don’t make me nervous the way you do.”

That makes your mouth quirk just slightly. But you stay still. Let him keep going.

“I keep thinking about you. Not just the porch stuff. Just... how quiet you are. How you look like you’re always hearing things no one else can. How you talk like you’re choosing every word on purpose.”

He finally looks at you, full-on, eyes searching.

“I don’t even know if this is anything,” he says, voice low. “I just know I don’t feel like this around anyone else.”

You let the words settle.

There’s a warmth behind your ribs now. A slow, uncoiling understanding.

You set your soda down beside you. “You’re allowed to like things you didn’t expect.”

Steve watches you carefully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You lean back on your hands, letting your knee brush his again. This time, it lingers.

“You don’t have to label it,” you say. “Or explain it to anyone. Especially not me.”

Steve laughs quietly. “I don’t think I care about anyone else knowing. Just kind of wanted you to know.”

You nod once. “I know now.”

You both sit there a moment, letting the air fill the space between words.

The porch light buzzes overhead. A breeze picks up, rustling through the nearby trees. And in that space, something clicks into place—not like a dramatic kiss, not like fireworks. Just… gravity realigning.

Steve bumps your shoulder. “You still think I have radio taste?”

You grin. “Definitely. But I can work with that.”

He smiles. A real one this time. Open. Grateful.

You glance at him, a little softer now. “You’re better when you’re not trying so hard.”

“I’m not used to that.”

You shrug. “Start practicing.”

Steve lets out a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Would you ever wanna—” he clears his throat, face flushing, “—hang out? Just, like... you and me? Sometime?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “That depends. Are you gonna keep saying weird, vulnerable stuff?”

“Maybe.”

“Then yeah,” you say, lips tugging into a crooked smile. “I’m into that.”

Steve lets out a short laugh, head falling forward. “Thank God.”

You chuckle, nudging his knee. “Easy, Harrington. Don’t faint on my porch. You’re too pretty to pass out.”

He looks up, eyes wide. “Was that—did you just call me—?”

You stand, grabbing your soda, and walk inside without answering.

The screen door swings closed behind you.

Steve stares at it for a long time, heart racing like he just ran a mile uphill.

Then he grins.

Yeah. This is definitely something.

---

Days pass..

It’s a late Saturday afternoon, the kind where Hawkins glows like it’s been dunked in honey — warm and slow, shadows long on the sidewalk.

Robin convinced everyone to meet at the old picnic area near Lover’s Lake for what she dramatically titled a “mental health gathering.”

Translation: snacks, sarcasm, and watching Eddie yell at squirrels.

Steve pulls up in his car, and you’re already there — sitting against one of the wooden tables with your headphones around your neck, sipping from a bottle of cherry cola, ankles crossed, calm as always.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are halfway through setting up a game of Uno on a folding table.

Nancy is adjusting the battery in a small portable radio she brought, claiming “someone needs to curate the vibe.” Eddie’s lying in the grass, eyes closed, pretending he doesn’t care.

Robin is mid-sentence when she catches sight of Steve walking up behind you. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she watches the way he doesn’t just walk — he drifts toward you like gravity’s involved.

You tilt your head back, see him coming, and give the tiniest smile. Just a flick of the mouth. But it lingers.

“Hey,” you say, like you were waiting for him.

Steve sits next to you, just a little closer than necessary.

Robin raises a single eyebrow. Nancy notices too — her lips press into a barely-there smirk. She nudges Robin with her elbow.

Dustin, of course, doesn’t notice a thing. He’s too busy triumphantly slamming down a +4 on Lucas.

“You absolute traitor!” Lucas yells.

“You played yourself,” Dustin shrugs.

As the chaos unfolds, Steve leans in slightly, speaking under his breath.

“You always drink that stuff?” he asks, nodding to the cherry cola.

You glance sideways, smirking. “Maybe I like sweet things.”

Steve blinks once.

Then twice.

You take a slow sip and don’t elaborate.

Robin almost chokes on a carrot stick from the snack bowl.

Nancy raises an eyebrow and murmurs to her, “They’re doing the thing again.”

“The what?” Eddie asks, rolling over lazily.

Nancy gestures subtly to you and Steve, who are in your own quiet little orbit at the end of the table, barely touching, barely talking — but fully locked in.

Eddie lifts his head, squints. “Are they—?” His voice drops. “No.”

Robin grins. “Oh yeah.”

Eddie sits up like someone just poured soda on his boots. “When the hell did that happen?”

Dustin looks up. “When did what happen?”

Everyone freezes for a split second.

Steve tries very hard to look like he’s not mentally collapsing.

You, cool as ever, just stretch your legs and say, “Hey, Dust. You ever figure out why your Uno strategy sucks so bad?”

Dustin squints. “Deflecting, are we?”

Eddie snickers.

Robin leans back on her elbows, grinning like she’s watching a live TV reveal.

Dustin’s eyes narrow. He looks at Steve. Then at you. Then back.

You’ve seen this look before — it’s the face he makes when he’s putting together a scientific theory or sniffing out secrets with Erica.

He squints harder. “Wait a damn minute.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest—too late.

Dustin stands up, hands flat on the table. “YOU’RE DATING MY BROTHER?!”

The birds scatter from the trees. Mike nearly drops his cards.

Steve lifts both hands like he’s under arrest. “Dustin—listen—”

“Since WHEN?!” Dustin yells, looking back and forth between you both like he’s witnessing a crime scene.

You sip your soda. “A while.”

Robin’s snorting with laughter now, face buried in Nancy’s shoulder.

Eddie says, “I knew something was weird! The night at my place, when Steve said your name and then immediately forgot what year it was? That makes so much sense now!”

Dustin starts pacing like a lawyer delivering his closing argument.

“Steve Harrington, you told me to brush my teeth last week! That’s like — a big brother thing! You can’t do that and be—you can’t date my actual brother! That’s betrayal on two fronts!”

Steve runs a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to lie—”

“You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d react like this!”

“I mean,” Steve admits, “a little, yeah.”

Dustin glares at you. “And you! You just let him into the house like it was no big deal!”

You lean back lazily. “He already had a key to the house... metaphorically.”

Robin shouts, “OH MY GOD.”

Eddie drops backwards into the grass again, wheezing.

Nancy smiles, folding her arms. “I think it’s sweet.”

Dustin groans like someone just stabbed him in the heart with a +4 card.

“No. Nope. I refuse. Steve is like my divorced dad and my annoying uncle combined! This is gross!”

You tilt your head. “Would it be better if I dumped him and dated Eddie?”

Eddie perks up. “I’m flattered.”

Steve blurts, “Please don’t.”

Robin collapses into laughter.

Dustin dramatically falls into a lawn chair, hands over his face. “God. I have to change schools.”

Lucas pats him on the back. “You don’t even go to school right now.”

“College, then!”

“You’re not in college.”

“I’LL SKIP STRAIGHT TO RETIREMENT.”

Nancy kneels beside him, voice dry. “Dustin. Breathe.”

---

As the sun begins to dip—

The group slowly reassembles. Uno resumes. Robin and Eddie still throw teasing looks at Steve, who can’t seem to stop looking at you.

You’re laid out on the blanket now, legs crossed at the ankles, sipping your soda and watching the clouds change color.

Steve lies down beside you, not quite touching, but close.

Dustin eventually calms down. He throws a single potato chip at Steve’s head in a weak display of dominance. It bounces off harmlessly.

“Don’t break his heart,” Dustin mutters.

You glance sideways at him. “I won’t.”

“You better not,” Dustin grumbles. “Because then I have to pick sides. And you know Mom would make me take the couch.”

Steve smiles faintly at that. Reaches over and gently brushes your knuckles.

You let him.

And the sun melts into the lake, quiet and gold and perfect.

No grand gestures. No declarations.

Just this.

Two people who didn’t plan on anything, finding something that feels like home.

---

Authors note: hii Atlas!, thank you so much for requesting this. I enjoyed writing it so much and I had overall a great time making it ☺️ I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!! And thank you so much again🩷

With a sigh, you continued to ignore Johnny’s rambling about the Declaration of Giving Penance, or whatever it was called, and laid your head on the table. All day, you had been studying for your naturalization test and all day you could barely focus on a word that was said. You would rather be out there, with the rest of the Fantastic Four, hunting down that stupid kid so you could knock some stupid sense into him.

“Are you listening to me?” There was a creak as Johnny sat on the edge of the table, his favorite place to perch. He never sat normally, perhaps it wasn't in his blood. Johnny’s hand fell against the back of your head, and, unable to help it, you let out a little purr. That earned you a chuckle. “Focus up, space cadet, you have a lot of history to cover.”

You groaned, frustrated, even as his fingers began to massage your scalp. “Johnny, you know exactly what I’d rather be doing. We don’t have time for this.”

“Studying is important too. No one will be able to deny that this is your home once we’re through.” Roused with a tap to your chin, you lifted your head to see Johnny staring down at you. Though his smile was soft, his eyes flickered with determination, a light that matched the sternness of his tone. “No one.”

That reminded you what you were preparing for. At the very least, this would make Dione and Sarvo’s claim to you much less valid. This was all to help you remain on Earth with the people who actually cared about you. It wasn’t something you could allow yourself to be distracted from. Straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, you gave Johnny a nod. Nothing would stop you now. You picked up your flashcards, intent to continue.

Only for Johnny to clear his throat. “Well, you don’t have to start again so soon. I was thinking maybe a break is in order.”

Maybe one thing would stop you. You felt the empowered urge fizzle out of you like a deflating balloon. Only to be replaced with warm affection. He was rubbing the back of his neck, a bit of color to his cheeks. Carefully, you placed your hand over his and ran your thumb over his knuckles. “What did you have in mind, teacher of mine?”

His face got a little darker as he leaned down to get closer to your face. Dark pupils darted to your lips before settling back against your own, his lips quirked, both playful and full of hope. “I could distract you for a while. Take you back to my room. Kiss a little.”

“Are you asking to make out with me?” Falsely aghast, you slapped at his shoulder, causing him to chuckle. His breath puffed hot against your face and you edged forward to nuzzle against him. Johnny took the closeness as an opportunity to pepper hot kisses just under your ear. You had intended to continue your reprimanding tone, but his name fell from your lips with a sigh, “Johnny Storm.”

“What? I’m not Johnny anymore?” Laughing again, he scooted closer on the table to get better access to your body. One hand was splayed against the side of your face to push you closer while the other anchored him. He nipped your earlobe, causing you to squeak, but not pull away.

“You’re always my Johnny,” was your response, followed by a rattling rumble in his chest.

Johnny pulled away and hopped off of the table. Your gaze was pulled to his crotch, as it always was, curious to see if he was as affected as you were. He was, at the very least, half-hard in his jeans and he shifted uncomfortably as he held out his hand for you to take. On his face was a pleased little smirk as if he knew the answer before he even asked the question. “Me, you, and my bedroom. What do you say?”

In your excitement, you grabbed his hand in an iron grip and began to drag him toward your destination. “You know I’m always happy to fool around with you, dummy. Now, come on!”

Everything else had flown out the window with the promise of a hot and sexy session with your boyfriend. Perhaps you had a one track mind when it came to him.

“I’ve never had someone so impatient to kiss me,” He commented with no small amount of affection. You nearly ran into the door frame in your haste, spinning around the corner and lunging onto the bed. Johnny let go of your hand to remove his jacket and hang it up on the back of a chair. While you waited for him to join you on the sheets, you tried to arrange yourself in the sexiest way that you could imagine. The images from that naughty magazine played in your head like a slide show as you tried to find the best position. All you managed was to look a little cheesy, laid out on your side with your head propped up, your grin more sweet than sultry. He seemed to like it all the same. “Now we can’t go too far, I have—”

“I know, I know, you have plans,” You groaned as you sat up. Opening up your arms, you stared at him, entirely expectant. “Now kiss me for as long as you want, Johnny.”

He snorted and began to crawl toward you, easily taking his place on top of you. His hand dragged from your chest then settled on your hip, your body instinctively arching into his touch. Tenderly, he nuzzled your nose with his lips inches away. “Oh, lovebug, if I had it my way, we’d never stop.”

Johnny’s tongue found yours and you let out a happy purr. As it tended to, it started slow, with him cradling the back of your head to angle you better against him. His mouth moved in lazy, languid motions, with you following his lead the best you could. Heat pooled in your gut, your own arousal growing the more as his hands dragged along your abdomen and his legs tangled around yours. To your disappointment, he never quite touched where you needed him the most. It was frustrating, you had to admit it. More than a few times, you had bluntly begged for him to take you in these moments, and somehow, unlike the men in your books, he seemed to have a will of steel. Johnny never gave in, usually ending the encounter as soon as you began to ask.

This time, you would let your body do the talking. It seemed verbal requests would get you nowhere. While you didn’t want to have sex if Johnny wasn’t ready to, and you would never push him too far, a little bit of grinding wouldn’t hurt anything. It didn’t count if there wasn’t penetration. Of that, you were almost certain.

You opened your legs and wrapped one around his waist to see what he would do. Unexpectedly, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he grabbed your calf and manually pulled it around him so that his bulge was flush against your core. He was breathing heavier now, his motions growing a little hungrier as he moved from your lips and down your neck. Moans spilled from your throat, each one causing his hips to drag forward, grinding against your clothed arousal. A spark of white hot pleasure lanced up your back, your body all too sensitive from how much you had been denied. From the rumbling groan that left Johnny, he was having a similar experience. You could practically feel his dick twitching against you.

“So good,” He muttered, and you wondered if he knew he said it.

You were about to speak when he kissed you again, his tongue delving passed your teeth to fumble with your own. He was fervent now, his hips moving of their own accord. It was hard to match him with how desperately he was moving. Where Johnny touched, his hand sliding under your shirt, your skin felt like it was on fire. Every thrust of his hard length, only a few layers of fabric between you, rubbed against your own need perfectly. You could feel that familiar tight band in your gut growing taut with every motion.

“Like that, please,” You managed to say, breathy and wanting.

He didn’t respond, his eyes squeezed shut, the drag of his hips more purposeful now. Johnny gripped your side so tight, you thought you might bruise when the most beautiful noise left him. It was a mix of a moan and a deep cry, his body tensing as he gave a few shallow thrusts. You were so close to him that you could feel his cock pulsing.

Johnny’s eyes snapped open and his face flushed a deep shade of red. “Oh my god.”

Your own arousal made your brain foggy as you followed him upward. Johnny practically jumped away from you despite your confusion. Cocking your head to the side, you managed to catch a glimpse of a dark, wet spot on the front of his jeans before he covered it with his hand. A proud smirk wormed its way onto your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you feign innocence, you know what’s wrong.” Johnny pointed an accusing finger at you, embarrassment oozing from his every pore. “I can’t believe I— And I loved these pants.”

“They make your butt look good,” You agreed easily.

He dug through his dresser, that adorable expression hidden from your view. Legs held away from each other, he shivered a bit, seemingly uncomfortably with how sticky he felt. “I can’t believe that happened. It’s your fault for being so hot!”

“I’m very flattered.” It was the truth, you had never felt more desired than you did right now. Although, the fact of the matter was that if he kept it up for much longer, you would be the one who would have to change your pants. That wasn’t something that Johnny needed to know, however. With a change of clothes in hand, he made for the door and confusion made you blink. “Where are you going?”

Johnny paused. “You want another show? I won’t spoil you that much, lovebug. Besides, I need a shower, I’m gross.”

“Can I join you?”

Hesitation and desire flickered across his face as he stared at you. His eyes roved your body, mind running a mile a minute, before he came to his decision. “No way. My plans would be out of the window and we would get no studying done.” With that, he turned and headed for the bathroom. Under his breath as he made his way down the hall, he muttered, “Seriously, my poor jeans.”

That left you alone on Johnny’s bed, an unsatisfied ache between your legs. No matter, it was well worth it for being the cause of your partner’s orgasm. Besides, if you had some time to yourself now, you might as well use it. Without waiting for another moment — and if Johnny re-entered, you didn’t mind giving him a show — you slipped your hand in your pants and got to work.

This wouldn’t take long.

You were right, thankfully. By the time Johnny returned, you were safisfied, with washed hands and a change of clothes yourself. Rather than wait for him in the bedroom, you were back at the dinner table, studying your flashcards. You had gotten through quite a few — it was the Declaration of Independence, not giving penance, oops — when you heard him clomp behind you with heavy footsteps. His hair was wet from his shower and he smelled like cedar. While you weren’t particularly sorry, you still felt it was necessary to apologize. You stood and met him halfway, deigning to wrap your arms around him, an embrace he easily reciprocated.

“I’m sorry for ruining your favorite pants, Johnny.”

He laughed and gave you a squeeze. “They just need a wash is all. Sorry if I was snippy with you, lovebug, I was just embarrassed.”

“You weren’t snippy, you were cute.”

Another chuckle escaped him as he let you go to rub the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t call it cute that I creamed my pants.”

“Well, you’re dumb so what do you know.”

A bit of disbelief crossed his face as he circled you to return to the flashcards. He looked over the ones that you had in your hands when he entered to figure out where you were now. “You do know that if that happened with anyone else, they’d be kind of annoyed. It definitely wasn’t cute.”

“Why would I be annoyed?” Now that Johnny was back, you were entirely uninterested in studying. Alone, you could focus, but with your easily manipulable boyfriend in the room, your mind ran a mile a minute as you tried to figure out how to get your way. Not sexually this time as you were more than happy with how the last encounter ended. Once again, Blake was on the forefront of your mind.

One way or the other, you would ditch these stupid flashcards and join everyone in the search for Blake. All you needed to do was figure out how to get Johnny to agree.

“Well, I left you high and dry. It’s not fair.” Desperate to change the subject, he started pawing through the civics textbook Reed provided before he left. “Have we gone over the constitutional amendments yet?”

“No.” You sat back down and cradled your chin in your palm. “I don’t care, though. I have my hand.”

“Yeah, but I should have—“ With a little too much force, he slammed the book on the table. Your only reaction was to blink, a bit of concern in the furrow of your brow. If it was anyone else, you likely would have flinched, but this was Johnny and you have never felt safer than you did with him.

Reaching over, you took his hand in yours. Reassurance leaked into your smile and his shoulders sagged. “I promise that I don’t care. Someone else may, but I’m not them. I love you and I’m flattered that you find me so attractive that you ejaculated without meaning to.”

Fondness leaked into his groan as he ran his free hand down his face. “Ejaculated. Can you find any other less scientific word to describe it?”

“Orgasmed?”

“Nevermind.” A laugh made his chest jump. He reciprocated your squeeze before lifting your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. “I love you too. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Be amazing,” You said, quicker than you intended. There was another thought in your mind, one that had bubbled to the surface mere moments ago. A hint in regards to Blake’s whereabouts, information you should have remembered a long time ago. “I just thought of where Blake might be.”

The sudden topic change made him rear back, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Yeah?”

“His uncle! His uncle’s gym!” Overjoyed at the revelation, you leapt from your seat and began to pace. “How did I not think of it before? We used to shower there when we were homeless.” You paused and tapped the side of your cheek with your finger. A frown curved your lips. “Well, before they had a disagreement. Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea.”

When you looked back over at Johnny, he was already putting on his jacket. “No, no, this is great, lovebug. He’ll know way more than us. Let’s head out.”

Surprise and elation made you beam as you followed suit. Sneakers replaced slippers and you grabbed a pair of earmuffs, not to protect you from the cold, but because you thought they were rather cute. Any winter weather you could shapeshift to handle with ease. If you needed a fur coat, then you could make it so. You and Johnny were in the elevator within seconds, his confidence leeching into your skin with each minute that passed. It would take a trip on the bus to reach his uncle’s gym, the man’s apartment located on the floor above the establishment. Either way, it was one step closer to finding your dearest friend again. If only to make sure he was okay.

And to drag him back home and make sure he never did anything stupid again. That was step two, however. Step one was the hard part: finding him.

Thankfully, the bus ride was quick, you and Johnny playing a rather childish game of ‘I Spy’ loud enough to earn some dirty looks. Johnny kept choosing entirely too easy choices, meanwhile, you stumped him more often than not. Eventually, he decided to pick either a silly, or an entirely ridiculous object to spy, which caused you to dissolve into a fit of giggles. Infectious ones if his shared laughter was anything to go by. You felt a little giddy with all that had happened today, and you couldn’t help but feel that it would all come crashing down soon.

As you stood in front of the closed gym, you realized that this may be the moment you had begun to dread.

To say the gym Blake’s uncle owned was run down would be an understatement. The brick looked as though it hadn’t been washed in years, tendrils of black dirt climbing up the side. Inside of the building, from what you could remember, was dingy, with cobwebs in the corners and old exercise equipment spattered haphazardly, obvious to even you who hadn’t been on Earth that long. Blake made sure you wore flip-flops when you showered. If you didn’t, he warned that you would get a nasty case of foot fungus. Whatever that was, it didn’t sound pleasant. Thankfully, you didn’t have to find out as you always took the teenager’s advice, even when you didn’t understand.

Most of the time, at least.

Johnny was busy peering passed the front doors into the darkened building. His lips were etched into a frown. “You guys really showered here? Couldn’t pay me a million dollars t—” Realization seemed to strike him and he turned to you with an apologetic grimace. “Right, homeless. Sorry. Not a lot of options.”

“It’s fine.” Awkwardly, you studied the doorbell, wondering which one was for the gym and which was for the apartment. “Should I just ring them both?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Johnny said with a shrug.

Sharing his expression, you jammed your finger into both buzzers for a moment, then waited.

Nothing happened.

“Try it again?” Johnny suggested.

This time, you pushed a little harder and held a little longer.

Again, nothing happened.

“I have an idea.” Now, you pressed the doorbells in the rhythm of a tune you had heard on the radio.

Above you, the window flew open and a furious voice called down, “Knock that shit off or I swear to god, I’ll—”

“Hi, Blake’s uncle! It’s me again!” You ignored Johnny’s protective move to push you behind him and peered around his shoulder to wave at the man. His eyes were bloodshot, black beard unkempt. He blinked owlishly at the two of you. Slowly, recognition softened his features.

He set something heavy enough to make an audible thud on a table next to him and scrubbed his eyes. “Where’s my nephew?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Johnny’s hackles were raised and you noticed it with a sigh. His eyes were focused on whatever Blake’s uncle had set aside. You were more fixated on finding Blake. Anything else was an unnecessary detail that you couldn't care less about.

“Can we come inside?”

Blake’s uncle paused, his eyes narrowed at Johnny. “You swear this is just about my nephew?”

“Anything I see, I’ll pretend I haven’t,” Johnny agreed, his hands raised in surrender.

It was quiet for a moment before Blake’s uncle nodded with a huffed sigh. “Come on up, then.”

When you tried to skip up the stairs, pleased that everything was working out so far, Johnny grabbed your wrist and maneuvered you behind him. His face was hard, nose twitching at an unfamiliar smell that emitted from the apartment. It was a scent that often wafted into the showers from the vents, one that seemed to upset Blake immensely. Once he smelled it, your showers were cut short. He refused to tell you what it was. Something told you Johnny would too.

“Let me take the lead here, lovebug.” He looked at you over his shoulder. “And, uh, don’t touch anything.”

A pout formed on your face. You would be fine, this was Blake’s uncle. Sure he was weird and twitchy, but it was obvious from their short interactions that he cared for his nephew, even if Blake brushed it off with clipped tones. You had seen the hurt on his uncle’s face every time it happened. That had to count for something.

Still, you let Johnny have his way. Not without a little bit of attitude in your tone, though. “Fine.”

Johnny led you up the stairs and the door opened without much preamble. Once inside, the stench was even stronger, somewhere between rotten eggs and glass cleaner. You scrunched up your nose as you took in your surroundings.

The apartment was a mess, trash and clothes strewn about with hardly a thought. There was mold in the corners of the linoleum floor, the spores mingling with the sickening smells emanating from deeper in the house. Deeper inside, you could see a brown carpet, though it was obvious that wasn’t the original color, and yellowed wallpaper, peeling at the edges. Blake’s uncle looked a bit worse for wear than usual, far less twitchy and significantly less energetic. His scraggly black hair ended at his jaw, shorts and tanktop stained with who knew what.

You greeted the man with a smile, “It’s good to see you again, Blake’s uncle.”

Upon seeing your demeanor, contrasting greatly with Johnny’s, he softened. His smile was nearly hidden by his beard, but you could just barely make out his teeth. They looked rotten and it made you worry. “I told you, my name’s Chet. What’s this about Blake? He got into trouble again?”

“You could say that.” As expected, Johnny took control, clearly distrusting Chet. You didn’t see why. It was true that he was a little unkempt and his house was messy, but you knew he was good.

You could sense these things.

The deeper into the apartment you went, the messier it became. A living room opened up from the hallway, displaying a threadbare couch and archway leading to a kitchen. On the kitchen table, you could see a chemistry set. Johnny saw it too. Whatever it meant, it made him tense up even more, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to hold you close.

Chet followed your gaze and grimaced, albeit apologetic. “You…”

“Didn’t see anything. It’s fine. Let’s talk about Blake.” With a forced smile, Johnny stared down at the couch with no small amount of disgust. You were able to tell he was trying to be polite, but he never quite could school his face as blank as he wanted.

You, on the other hand, didn’t have the same reservations. Plopping down on the couch, you regretted it immediately when you realized how sticky it was. It was too late now. You had made your choice, it was time to stick(y) with it. “Has Blake been around lately? He ran away.”

Chet let out a wry laugh. “Unsurprising. Always running, that kid. Might be a blood problem, me and his mom did the same when we were younger. From

house to house, place to place. Only stayed here because Starla had a kid and wanted to be good to him. I stayed because I could never leave my sister. Look where that got me.” He caught his rambling with an awkward scratch of his beard. “Want anything to drink, you two? I don’t have any clean cups, but I could scrounge something up. Don’t have company much.”

“Unneeded,” You said with a smile, trying to ignore Johnny’s hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about us.”

“Kinda hard not to with a superhero in my living room. Can’t blame me for being nervous.”

Johnny barked out both a laugh and a smile. His discomfort was palpable. “Like I said. Didn’t see anything. Don’t even worry about me.”

The room fell into silence, punctuated only by the squeak of leather as Chet settled into a nearby recliner. He looked tired. Running a hand down his face, he sucked a breath between his teeth, and addressed you both, “You wasted your time coming here. This is the last place the kid would come.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Johnny muttered. He let out a yelp when you gave him a reprimanding punch.

“Why?” You asked. Chet already seemed talkative, maybe he would ramble away some answers.

Thankfully, you were right.

“He’s supposed to be living with me, but he fucked off to the streets. Kid’s stubborn, nothing in the world will get him to change his mind once it’s set.” A little sadder now, he hung his head and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Hates me, I think. Who could blame him, I’m no good for him. Not fit to be an uncle, not fit to be his guardian. Fuck only knows why the state put him with me.”

“You’re his legal guardian?” Hope snuck its way into Johnny’s voice and he sat a little straighter. “Do you think you’d be allowed to sign over guardianship rights? My family is looking to adopt him.”

Chet blinked as a bit of genuine happiness snuck into his eyes before it was promptly snuffed out. His hands balled into fists, a curse falling from his lips. “I’d love to. Listen here, I’d do anything for that kid. I’d do anything to get him a future. A real one, not whatever this is.” Gesturing to the room, he appeared more miserable than ever, his gaze settled on the floor rather than either of you. “You think some tweaker, uncle or not, wants to have a kid here. I can’t— I can’t even take care of myself, but I try so hard for that kid. Took him out for dinner when I had buyers, let him use my showers, I’d do anything to give him this, but his fuckin’ shit dad.”

“What about him?” Johnny probed, leaning forward.

“He may be in prison, but he’s got parental rights still. You’re gonna have to face that fucker and he won’t give in easy. Never knew what Starla saw in him.” With a groan, he began to pick at his skin and you noticed just how many fresh scabs and lesions he had littering his body. Concern bubbled in your throat for the man.

Rather than stay quiet, Johnny continued to pry. He asked the question that you had wanted to know for some time now. One you couldn’t bring yourself to voice. “Starla… What happened to her? Where is Blake’s mom now?”

“Dead.” Chet’s voice broke. He gave a ragged exhale, steeling himself as best he could, though that didn’t change the wetness to his eyes. “Overdosed a year ago. Blake’s the one that found her body.” You watched him clench his fists and his chest shake with each breath. All you could feel was empathy for your young friend. How he recognized a dead person’s eyes finally clicked in the back of your mind, as did his reaction when you were sick. It must have dredged up bad memories. Finally, Chet looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. “I’m not good for him. Starla wasn’t either, no matter how hard she tried. She just couldn’t kick it, I— I’ll help you the best I can. Get the future for my nephew that he deserves. He’s a good kid, I swear it. Don’t let me mess up your view of him. Don’t change your mind, please.”

Uncomfortable, Johnny shifted from foot to foot and looked at the far wall. “We aren’t going to, don’t worry. I…” Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look at Chet. “You’re not bad, you’re just sick. Listen…” Johnny reached into his pocket to grab his wallet and pulled out a little card. He handed it to Chet who stared down at it in confusion. “I’ll sponsor you. Pay for rehab, if you go. I know it’s not easy, just… My number’s on there. Let me know if you make your decision.”

“I don’t think I can…” Chet started, then coughed into his fist. Without much preamble, he shoved the card into his pocket and began to usher you and Johnny out of the house. Now that this was over, and he was far more emotional, he appeared ready to be rid of his company. You couldn’t say that you blamed him. “Thank you. I, uh, I’ll keep in touch. Let you know if Blake comes here. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Take care of yourself, Chet,” You said softly.

Standing in the doorway, he watched the two of you with watery eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew out there. I’ll… try to repay you some day.”

His fingers played with the card into his pocket.

As the door shut, all you could hope was that everything would be okay.

Blood wasn’t everything, but it did play its part. Staring up into the sky, you spent the bus ride home thinking about family.

It played its part.

Skippable smut summary: Johnny and Y/N make out on the bed before it gets a little heavier. Y/N is the one who initiates the dry humping, though not verbally, and Johnny gets so into it that he accidentally ruins his pants. Short scene.

A/N: Oh my god, so that 2026 flu is no fucking joke. I was out of commission for a week. Literally withering away into a husk. I STILL have a cough and my sinuses are full of snot, but I’m not entirely exhausted. Thank you lord in heaven!!! As evidenced by the smut summary up top, a commenter on tumblr recommended I add that for anyone who wants to skip those portions of upcoming chapters. Along with that, upsetting and triggering scenes that are particularly violent (such as the real time harvesting that’s coming up after this arc) will be summarized and skippable! Doing this had completely skipped my mind previously and I feel like its a very good idea.

As for this chapter’s contents, we got some Blake backstory!!! Along with finally meeting Blake’s uncle. Him and Blake’s mother, Starla, were always intended to be sympathetic characters despite their addiction and I hope I was able to convey that well. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but one of my close family members was an addict and she’s been clean for a very long time. I’m aware it’s a constant battle for her and I think she’s one of the strongest people I know. I wanted to convey that addiction is a disease, but recovery is a choice. And it’s one that Blake’s mother in particular struggled with due to her economic background and Blake’s father, WHO SUCKS btw.

As for Blake’s uncle, Chet, I definitely believe he’s still grieving his sister and uses drugs to help him with these feelings. Recovery isn’t something he’s sure he’s ready for because that would mean giving up a crutch he’s had for a majority of his life and finally feeling the grief he’s been stifling for a year now. I just wanted to give more insight into where he is right now.

As for Blake, if you missed it, finding his mother dead and experiencing her overdose is why he was so upset in earlier chapters. Particularly with Y/N having “a dead person’s eyes” and when they had lost their stomach, winding up incredibly ill. It reminded him very much of his mother and he couldn’t cope. Yay! Insight!

Two last tidbits of information. What Chet had when Johnny and Y/N were ringing the doorbell was 100% a gun. Johnny noticed, Y/N did not. And lastly, Johnny is a very kind and compassionate person, however, he is a complete and utter boy scout to me. He would lose his mind at a little bit of weed, let alone hard drugs. While he has empathy for addicts — I believe his father was an alcoholic so he has first hand experience — he is also wary of them. Especially with his lovebug in tow. Along with this, he is a rich little white boy, he’s always been at least upper class to me. His privilege also plays a part in his reaction.

And that’s it for this chapter <33 I hope you guys enjoyed!!! I implore you to comment, like, please, I beg. Of course, you’re under no obligation to, but it makes me very happy to hear you guys’ thoughts and gives me motivation to work harder on upcoming chapters. I’m so excited for what I have planned. Stay cool everyone!!!

Before the storm

​

The launch site buzzed with nervous energy. Even before Ms. Nichols scans you in, from the outside, you feel it.

​

On the brisk walk deep into the facility, down hallways that all looked the same, she gave you a briefing of the situation:

​

“Johnny’s freaking out,” she said, leading you to a door.

​

“Freaking out?” You question. Johnny doesn’t freak out. But how wrong you were.

​

“Oh,” she replies with a laugh, “we’re all freaking out,” she said, both of you looking back down the hallway to see all of the people you passed by.

​

“Maybe you’re right,” you said, observing the way the people ran around like headless chickens.

​

“Good!” Ms. Nichols replied, running her hands across her wind-swept outfit, “just don’t take too long,” she said, sending you a wink. And with that, she went back down the corridor.

​

Unsure of what to expect, you slowly open the door, “Johnny?” You call, finding the man pacing in front of a window that overlooked the space shuttle. It loomed outside, a presence that you couldn’t tell was ominous or not. That single shuttle had the power to change your life for better or worse.

​

“Hey!” Johnny replied, coming to a halt, but with all his nervous energy, he threatened to stumble forward, “what’re you doing here?” He asked, his arms open wide as he came toward you.

​

“I came to see you before your launch,” you lied, pulling Johnny into a tight embrace. Though it seemed like he tried to hide it, you could feel Johnny’s emotions through his body. It took a few minutes of running your hands along his back for him to finally relax into your arms, Johnny letting out a hum as he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

​

“Aren’t I interrupting your lunch break?” Johnny asked, pulling out of your arms, his brows drawn together in concern.

​

“It’s fine,” you soothed, running your thumb across the lines on his forehead until he relaxed, “but yes, you do owe me lunch,” you said, pulling Johnny into a kiss.

​

“Yeah,” Johnny murmured against your mouth as he pulled away, his forehead coming to rest on yours, “anywhere you wanna go,” he said before he moved forward into another kiss. You both knew it was all talk. You don’t know how many times you’ve been reprimanded at work for taking lunches that were much longer than the time allotted because of Johnny.

​

Really, you didn’t know why you hadn’t been fired yet. Perhaps it was Johnny using the connections he claimed to have to help. You didn’t really mind either way.

​

“Are you okay?” You whispered after pulling away.

​

“I’m fine!” Johnny replied, too quickly for what he actually said to be true, "I'm fine,” he repeated, like he was not only trying to convince you, but himself.

​

“Johnny,” you said softly, running your hand across his cheek, “what’re you thinking about?”

​

“How this entire mission could go wrong,” Johnny began, his voice only growing louder and faster as he continued, “how we could die, how I could never see you again, how-”

​

“Johnny!” You interrupted like he wasn’t completely correct. It scared you just as much as it did him, but you were here to calm Johnny down, not make him feel even worse. “You’re coming home,” you said, your voice stern and leaving no room for argument. “We just made lunch plans,” you said, ignoring the way your voice shook as you spoke, “you’re not getting out of them.”

​

Johnny fell back into your arms, his head lying into the safety of your neck. Johnny’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you tight to his chest, like he was afraid you were the one about to get in that rocket.

​

You moved a hand to the back of Johnny’s head, careful not to mess up his hair too much before he’d be appearing in front of the cameras outside. Johnny didn’t seem to mind, especially when he nuzzled his face into your skin.

​

“I love you,” Johnny said, laying a soft kiss onto your skin, making you shiver.

​

Too overwhelmed by emotions, all you could think of doing was pulling Johnny out to get him into a kiss. Pouring all of your feelings into the kiss, Johnny immediately reciprocated. You never thought you’d ever kiss a person wearing a spacesuit, but here you were.

​

A light knock to the door ended the kiss, Johnny’s cheeks pink with heat.

​

“The others are waiting,” Ms. Nichols said, poking her head into the room apprehensively.

​

“Be right there,” Johnny replied, sending her a glance over your shoulder. Once the door is closed with a soft click, Johnny pulls you back into another kiss, the two of you stumbling towards where Johnny’s helmet sat.

​

“Wait,” you said, running your fingers through Johnny’s hair to try and make it look like you hadn't just messed it up.

​

“Where should we go for lunch?” Johnny asked as you worked.

​

“I’ll think of something while you’re in space,” you replied, pulling away.

​

Johnny let out a soft laugh, his eyes dropping down to your lips, “let me know,” he said, leaving you with one last kiss before he’s out the door.

​

-

​

After the storm

​

“You might want to cover your nose,” Sue said, her hand already coming up to her face.

​

“Why’d you bring me somewhere stinky?” you replied, watching the way Sue failed to stifle a laugh, “why’d you bring me here in general?” You asked, watching the arrow on the gauge move.

​

“You work at the Future Foundation now,” she said, holding her hand out as the elevator doors opened, “and could brush on your diplomacy skills,” she nodded down to her hand, waiting for you to take it.

​

“Whoa,” you said as your body went invisible when you took her hand, “since when can you do this?” You ask, looking over your shoulder as you walk, watching the way that your footprints were the only thing left of your presence.

​

“Since I got my powers,” she answered, “it just took me a while to control it,” she whispered as you walked through the crowd of workers.

​

Your boss did, in fact have a limit to how much time they could let you miss. What used to be 30 minute to hour long lunch breaks, turned into hours you were away, to even days after Johnny had gotten back from space.

​

You could tell your boss felt bad letting you go, knowing that you were using your time to check on Johnny to make sure he was getting accustomed to his new powers, but you had long reached your limit of the time they could give.

​

You knew it was coming, but you couldn’t help but feel angry and disappointed. Angry at yourself and your boss, but also a small part of you was angry at Johnny. It was unfair, and you knew that. It wasn’t like Johnny knew he was going to return to Earth with superpowers.

​

Your unemployment gave you more time to spend with Johnny, but all it really felt like it did was further sweep you up into the Fantastic Four. What came with the group was the Future Foundation, and with that, a new job.

​

“You can’t just,” you shook your head, “give me the job,” you said, watching the way Sue rolled her eyes. Looking to Reed for help, he only smiled at you, “you haven’t even interviewed me,” you said to the two of them who sat across from you at their dining room table.

​

“I can,” Sue replied, “and I really need an assistant.”

​

“Do you really want us to interview you?” Reed asked.

​

Days later, at that same dining room table, you were interviewed by Sue and Reed. Johnny, who begged to join the interview panel, had to be held back by Ben. He acted as a bodyguard, keeping Johnny away from the table as they spoke to you.

​

But if he sure did make his protest known, “I could burn right through you, Pebbles!” Johnny yelled.

​

“Oh really?” Ben asked, “you need more flight training? Want me to toss you out that window, Matchstick?” He asked, much calmer than Johnny was, which you knew made him seethe.

​

“Boys!” Reed said, trying to defuse the situation.

​

“You’re hired! Sue said over them, quieting the room, “we’ll see you on Monday,” she said, sticking her hand out. She leaned forward when you shook her hand, “not really though, because you’ll be staying for dinner, right?” She whispered.

​

“Just because Johnny hates Mole Man doesn’t mean I do,” you whispered to Sue, approaching said man.

​

“Sue!” The man said, jumping out of his skin, “we agreed you wouldn’t do that anymore,” he said. Not being on the other side of it, you can now tell why Sue does it. You turn away quickly, hiding your laugh behind a cough, “your new assistant?” He asked, waving a hand in your direction.

​

“Like we agreed, you wouldn’t threaten to revolt every time,” she responded, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket.

​

“Your sewer pipes burst,” he responded, getting up from his desk, “I have people living in excrement under Staten Island,” which, yeah, that was probably why Sue had given you the warning earlier about covering your nose.

​

“I dispatched a team to handle that excrement,” she responded, moving closer as the man traveled up a tiny staircase to a liquor cabinet.

​

“Oh! What a grand gesture,” Mole Man said, his words dripping with sarcasm, “thanks for the big favor. I could give the word and they could rise up,” he said, grabbing three of you a glass for the brown liquid in the bottle he held.

​

“And Johnny could burn through your tunnels and burn everyone alive,” Sue responded, stepping up the stairs, “and I could put a forcefield inside your brain and give you an aneurysm, but we’re not going to do that because we’re not assholes.”

​

Sue put a hand back onto the top of the railing, a look of pain flashed across her face.

​

“You okay?” Mole Man asked, his frustration melting into worry.

​

“Sue?” You questioned, your voice full of concern.

​

“Baby’s trying to relocate my stomach,” she answered.

​

“I could hear,” Mole Man said, pouring her a glass of water.

​

She let out a chuckle at his words, accepting the glass he passed her way. “What’s really going on, Harvey, huh?” She questioned, “I got people working around the clock on those sewers,” she said, leaning back against the cabinet behind her.

​

“Not my people,” he answered.

​

“Oh, I see,” she said, “so how about you get me a list of your best workers and I will run the names over to planning myself.”

​

Harvey nodded, “okay.”

​

“Deal?” Sue asked, looking over to you, nodding at the other glass Harvey poured.

​

You stepped up to grab the glass and stood next to Sue. You looked down at the glass cautiously, “I don’t think I should drink on the clock.”

​

“Deal,” Harvey said, the three of you clinking your glasses together.

​

“Fuck it,” you whispered before taking a swig.

​

“Is she working you that hard?” Harvey asked, looking between you and Sue with a look of amusement.

​

“Yeah,” she said, raising a brow, “am I?” She asked.

​

“It’s been great!” You said quickly, not wanting her to give you an aneurysm like she just threatened to do to Harvey.

​

Sue laughed into her cup as she took a sip of water, her shoulder brushing yours, “we’ll let you get back to it,” she said, placing her glass down.

​

You took another drink, letting the warm feeling wash over you before placing your glass down onto the cabinet. “Thanks,” you said, smiling at the man for the drink.

​

Sue links her arm through yours, pulling you down the stairs and back to the elevator.

​

“Tell Johnny I said hey!” Harvey called after you, making you send Sue a look.

​

“Did you tell him?” You hissed.

​

“You two aren’t exactly subtle,” she responded with a laugh that ended with a groan as you stepped back into the elevator, her hand coming to rest back on her stomach.

​

“Should we call it a day?” You asked, helping Sue lean against the wall.

​

“You just want to go back home and see Johnny,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

​

“No.”

​

“No?” Sue asked, one brow raised.

​

“I want to see how the nursery is coming along,” you answered, pressing the button to get you back to the surface.

​

“Do you think the baby will have powers?” Sue asks, a hand lay delicately on her stomach.

​

“I think the real question is, do you want the baby to have powers,” you answer, making Sue laugh.

​

“Sometimes I barely feel used to these,” she says, holding her free hand up, the air around it shimmering.

​

“You seem to have a good handle on them,” You reply, trying to reassure her as you make your way to the Baxter building. In a new elevator now, your question her: can you actually put a forcefield in someone’s brain?”

​

“Want me to show you?” She asks, holding her hand towards you.

​

“I’ll let you save that for Mole Man,” you reply, with a laugh, not suddenly feeling afraid at all. “You aren’t going to tell Johnny about our little trip underground, will you?”

​

“What trip?” Johnny asks, seemingly too scared that Sue was going to potentially give you an aneurysm, that you didn’t notice the elevator doors were open.  

​

“We,” Sue starts, stretching out the word like she’s trying to figure out what to say, “took a trip to Subterranea.”

​

Johnny looks from Sue to you, and then back to his sister, “why?” He asks, his expression stormy.

​

“Diplomacy,” you answer, making Sue smile.

​

“Yes! Diplomacy,” she repeats.

​

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Johnny bites back.

​

“Johnny,” you say, expression softening at his obvious concern.

​

“Johnny,” Sue repeats, her tone the opposite of yours. “I see Henry almost every week, and we were fine.

​

“You know I don’t like him, and you take him?” He questions, pulling you from the elevator to his chest protectively.

​

“Sue could’ve protected me if anything went wrong, Johnny,” you say, his expression falling, “and nothing did! We’re fine!” You clarified quickly.

​

“I know you don’t need it,” Johnny snaps.

​

“Okay,” Sue says, shaking her head dismissively, “I’m tired and need to go rest.” Even if she sounds angry, she still steps up and places a kiss on your cheek, and then her brother’s. “You two can argue amongst yourselves, and you,” she points a finger at you, “can figure out what’s wrong with him.”

​

Upon Sue’s departure, you can see Herbie in the kitchen. He beeps nervously when you turn to look at him, “hey, Herbie,” you say, trying to ease the tension, “how are you?”

​

Herbie’s beeps sound much happier, even when Johnny pulls you away. He waves, sending you a chirp as you’re pulled to Johnny’s bedroom.

​

On the other side, you close the door softly. Though you’re on the inside alone together, you couldn’t feel further apart. You lean against the door and let out a sigh as Johnny goes to sit down on the bed, maintaining a distance between you.

​

Johnny comes to a compromise by patting the space next to him, his head hung low to avoid your eye as you came to sit down. He knocks your knees together when close enough as he tries sending you a smile, “how was your day?”

​

You can’t help but crack a smile, “it was fine,” you answered, rolling your eyes. “Sue and I went on a little excursion. I don’t know if you heard,” you said, not being able to ignore the way Johnny sighed heavily, “one that I want to talk to you about.”

​

“I worry about you,” Johnny responded, “and Sue. Even when I shouldn’t.”

​

“Sue would’ve protected me if anything happened,” you said softly, placing your hand on Johnny’s knee. “Which it didn’t,” you said at the same time.

​

“I know,” Johnny said, “that’s the thing, though.”

​

You looked around for dramatic effect, “where’s Ben?”

​

Johnny’s head shot up, “don’t do that!” He said, “don’t make me laugh,” he said, even as he was laughing, “I’m trying to explain myself.”

​

“You’re right,” you said, biting back a smile, “sorry.”

​

Johnny takes a deep breath before he speaks again, “I feel like nothing works on you, so you don’t need my protection, and that terrifies me.”

​

“What do you mean, nothing works on me?” You were human in a line of work that involved superheroes. Of course, you needed protection from time to time.  

​

“I’m so used to people falling for me so easily, but you’re not like that,” Johnny answers.

​

“You don’t think I’ve fallen for you?” You question, running your fingers along Johnny’s knee in a comforting motion. “If I’ve made things difficult-”

​

“No!” Johnny cuts you off, his eyes locked with yours, “nothing about this is difficult,” he reassures you, “I’ve just been,” he pauses, “stuck in my head since we came down from space.”

​

“What’s been on your mind?” You ask, your hand going to Johnny’s face when he tries to look away.

​

“You,” Johnny answers easily, his cheek falling to rest on your palm. If you didn’t love Johnny, you knew at this moment you would. “You didn’t say it back before I got in that shuttle,” he says, letting out a bitter laugh, “it almost made me not want to go, and then I came down changed.”

​

“Which didn’t change anything between us,” you said, “and it didn’t change that I love you too,” both hands now cradling Johnny’s face.

​

Johnny’s eyes fall shut, a soft smile gracing his lips. He turns to press them to your palm, long enough for you to feel the way his lower lip quivers.

​

You pull him in for a soft kiss, “if you cry, I’ll cry,” you whisper against his mouth.

​

Johnny lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob, his head falling onto your shoulder. He turns to face you better on the bed and practically crawls into your lap as you begin to feel his tears soaking into your shirt.

​

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice breaking over your words as tears begin to fall.

​

Johnny's arms snake around your body to pull you up against him, his legs moving to cage in your body. “How long?” He whispers, his red rimmed eyes making eye contact with yours after he pulls away.

​

You let out a wet laugh, “do you remember when you took the fall when you first started showing up at my job and inviting me for lunch?” you asked, your fingers wiping through the tear tracks on Johnny’s face.

​

“Your boss fucking hated me,” Johnny said with another laugh. He pulls you into a salty kiss, “remember the first dinner you had with my family, before I had my powers?” He asked.

​

“When I-” you began with a laugh.

​

“Spilled water all over Ben’s lap,” Johnny finished, the two of you falling into a fit of laughter.

​

Johnny moved to rest on your shoulder when his laughter subsided, “he thought we were still friends back then,” he said.

​

“He didn’t see us holding hands underneath the table by the end of dinner?” You asked.

​

“He was a rockhead even before becoming a rock,” Johnny said.

​

“What convinced him?” You asked, absentmindedly drawing patterns onto Johnny’s skin.

​

“One of the first times I saved you after getting my powers,” he answered, “I wanted to kiss you right in front of all of the camera crews,” Johnny said, smiling at the memory.

​