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cptindanvers · 1 year ago

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can't seem to run you out of my mind [you part 3]

summary: distancing yourself from Steve and Nancy was quite possibly the best decision of your life. but, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

pairing: steve harrington x reader (set end of s2 + s3)

word count: 8.7k!

a/n: it's finally here!! after like . two years of this rotting, untouched from its first very rough draft. well. hope u enjoy! (also, can u tell how much i hate writing the show scenes LOL)

part one / part one [remastered] / part two / masterlist

November came and went in a flash. Attempts at forgetting the month's events and living normally was starting to feel like a dream; always just out of reach.

This time, Steve had gotten wrapped up in everything because of your advice; flowers are the key to a girl's heart, you'd insisted. They also happened to be the key to near-death experiences, apparently.

It was a series of unfortunate events, really.

Jonathan had been spending an awful lot of time with Nancy; you'd be happy for him if it hadn't left Steve with no one but you to call.

Steve had made sure to keep you updated on everything that happened between him and Nancy. You knew he had no bad intentions, but listening to him talk about how much he loved Nancy was agonizing for your poor heart. Steve felt like he owed it to you, considering he'd shown up at your door without warning that Halloween night. You felt like it was the worst form of torture.

And so, he'd innocently walked up to Nancy's house with flowers at the same time Dustin Henderson walked up; his one-way ticket to danger.

The kids had recounted everything you missed out on afterwards, stars in their eyes. A majority of the good comments about Steve came from Dustin, which caught you by surprise. Dustin's defensive tone made you wonder about any information he hadn't relayed.

Hearing about Steve protect the kids you adored made all those nasty, wonderful feelings bubble in your chest. But the same heroic tales led you to the awful realization that underneath it all, you've led Steve down to danger from the very beginning; if Jonathan had answered the door two years ago, Steve would've been blissfully unaware of the Upside Down.

But it was too late to think about how things could've been different; maybe Steve would've gotten involved regardless of you. At the end of the day, both of you had gotten tangled up in another inter-dimensional predicament, pulling the two of you together in ways you'd hoped to avoid.

This new Steve, heroic and selfless, risking his life for teenagers he just met, definitely didn't align with the Steve you once knew.

And you so desperately wanted to learn everything about this new Steve.

The hopefulness made that familiar ache in your chest painfully present and the logical side of you knew you'd have to snap yourself back into reality at some point.

Or rather, Jonathan did.

⁂

Apologies and explanations were exchanged, though the both of you knew you couldn't stay mad at each other for long. A much-needed late night talk revealed the relationship that'd started between Nancy and Jonathan, a bright blush creeping up Jonathan's neck as he summarized what happened.

You'd confided in Jonathan about your very complicated feelings towards Steve, knowing Jonathan was quite possibly the only person in Hawkins who'd understand. He nodded as you spoke, letting you get everything off your chest; and what a relief it was.

"I just don't know what to do," you sighed dejectedly, Jonathan's silence worrying you as you wondered how he'd weigh in.

"He hurt you." Jonathan said factually, as if you had no idea.

"I know."

"I just want you to be careful."

You sighed. "I know," you mumbled quietly as Jonathan pulled you in for a hug.

He was right, as annoying as it was. There was no way you could ever go back to Steve with the way he treated you. Even if he changed, it didn't change what he did.

So, you went back to how you were before; distancing yourself from Steve. It was different this time; you were no longer fighting lingering feelings. You'd acknowledged them, now you'd have to let them pass over you.

⁂

It'd been around 7 months since El closed the gate and saved all your asses, and a week or two since you'd last seen Steve at Hawkins High.

You weren't exactly avoiding Steve - though you did duck your head anytime you saw him in the halls, pretending you were too deep in conversation with a friend to hear him call your name. Maybe you could be friends with him one day, but you needed time without him for a while.

Over half a year had gone by faster than you'd anticipated. Winter became spring which turned into summer, the chilly months fighting a losing battle to the warmer temperatures. The heat became unbearable in June, forcing most Hawkins residents to take shelter in their homes. Those who were brave enough to venture outside frequented the town’s only pool or the new Starcourt Mall with dozens of indoor shops or, perhaps most importantly, air conditioning.

The few weeks out of school had been vital to your journey of protecting your peace; getting to pick and choose who you spent your time with gave you a greater sense of control. You could finally, confidently say you were doing well; great, even. The gaping hole in your chest, kept open by unwanted interactions, had healed.

Steve wasn't on your mind on your third date with someone you'd met at the library a few weeks ago. Steve wasn't on your mind when the two of you entered the brand new Starcourt Mall. Steve wasn't on your mind when your date offered to buy ice cream, until Steve was right in front of you. A few awkward glances were passed as your date paid and took your ice creams, but Steve was no longer on your mind as the two of you walked out, hand in hand.

Things were good; bearable now.

"So..." your date began. "Who was that?"

A part of you pondered why your date wondered who Steve was. You'd made it clear that once summer was over, the two of you would be too.

You shrugged nonchalantly, swiping at your ice cream before answering. "Just an ex."

"Anyone I should be worried about?"

A small - albeit a little annoyed - smile crept onto your face.

"Not at all."

⁂

Jonathan had been a little distant this summer, busy balancing a new relationship and internship at the Hawkins Post. You didn't mind much; you recognized the opportunity he was given, and how lucky he was to share it with Nancy. And, the two of you always made time to catch each other up on the most important details.

Other than occupying yourself with summer flings, you spent time with your annoying kids that you loved dearly.

The kids were dying to visit the mall; and while they had their bikes, they also had a perfectly available chaperone who they knew they could plead into doing essentially anything for them.

It was partially your fault for always giving into the kids, but as mischievous as they were, you loved seeing them happy. Plus, it was summer; they were well deserving of a break after all they 'd been through.

However, they were a lot more resourceful than you'd anticipated. Somehow, the teens had roped Steve Harrington into their antics. The surprise on your face was evident when the kids led you into Scoops Ahoy, coercing Steve into letting them into the movies for free. You knew what Steve did for them, of course; how could you forget? But you hadn't anticipated the relationship to continue after the monsters were banished.

"Tiny assholes, all of them." Steve had his hands on his hips, looking a lot like an exasperated babysitter.

You laughed in agreement.

You planned on spending the next approximately 2 hours shopping for Dustin; he was coming home in a few weeks, you had yet to find a suitable welcome back gift for him. Those plans were trashed as the kids had circled back around, complaining about how they had to walk all over the mall searching for you. Surprise overcame you once again that day; conversation with Steve had come too easily, too natural. So much that two hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

You rolled your eyes at the kids, threatening to let them walk home before waving a goodbye to Steve, leading the teens out of the mall and into your car like ducklings.

It was adorable.

"What the hell was that about?" A voice from behind Steve demanded.

"Jesus, Robin! I thought you went home."

"No way. I just didn't want to interrupt whatever that was." Robin propped herself up to sit on the ledge connecting the break room and ice cream parlor, suddenly very intrigued in studying Steve's body language.

Steve huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." He turned his head, hoping Robin wouldn't spot the red hue creeping up his face.

"Seriously? That was the longest you've talked to a girl all summer. I'd give you a point if you'd at least gotten her number or something!"

Steve ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Do you seriously not - ? I can't just -"

"What, did you break her heart in high school or something?" Robin laughed a little, only half joking until she saw how Steve's face dropped, suddenly very interested in wiping down the spotless counter.

Robin bit her bottom lip, hating how big her stupid mouth was. Whoever you were, you clearly meant a lot to Steve. Robin hadn't even thought that was possible, though she was realizing that maybe, there was a lot more to Steve than he let people see.

"Well, it seems like she forgave you? I mean, I wouldn't talk to someone I hated for two hours." Robin's voice softened, suddenly feeling the need to reassure Steve. Who would've thought?

"Yeah, I just... it's complicated, okay?"

That would've been the end of it; until you walked back into Scoops Ahoy, completely alone, a few days later.

Maybe it was out of boredom, maybe loneliness. Maybe you realized how embarrassing it was that the majority of your friend group consisted of kids that hadn't officially reached high school yet.

Whatever led you to Scoops didn't matter as you walked in, watching the surprise on Steve's face as you came up to the counter.

"Hey, you" Steve said automatically, wanting to punch himself in the face. "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, not even glancing down at the array of ice cream. "Guess I missed you."

The boldness of your words caught Steve off guard, a minute to recollect himself necessary.

"Sorry?" His voice came out at a higher pitch than usual, lips parted in confusion and eyes big.

"I want to be friends, Steve. I mean, if that's okay -"

"No, yeah! That's - that's more than okay," Steve quickly reassured you, glancing up at the few customers entering the store.

"Tell you what, if you want to sit in the back - I'll just take care of them and take my break?" Steve glanced at you nervously, as if he was asking for your permission; as if the slightest inconvenience would make you change your mind and walk away from him. Steve realized that he really didn't want you to leave.

You entered the back of Scoops Ahoy as instructed, glancing warily at the big, red EMPLOYEES ONLY. Perhaps the sign was warning you of things you couldn't see just yet; but how could you have known what such a simple action would lead to?

Always too stubborn to heed any warnings, you entered the break room of the parlor, eyes landing on a girl in a Scoops Ahoy uniform; she was sitting at the small metal table in the center of the room, well-loved sneakers propped up in front of her. Her name tag read Robin, and Robin had stopped eating her yogurt mid-bite to stare at you, a knowing smile growing on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was -" Your words faltered as your face warmed; you hadn't even realized Steve had a coworker.

"Oh, it's okay! You're waiting for Steve, right? He talks about you a ton." Robin smiled warmly, getting up from her spot to meet you, face-to-face.

"Really? I -"

"I'm Robin. I don't think we've properly met." Robin stuck her hand out, yogurt long forgotten.

You took Robin's hand gently, introducing yourself with a bright smile. You had a feeling the two of you would get along well.

Just as Robin finished talking about a super annoying customer that complained about her serving too much ice cream - who complains about that, anyway? Steve burst open into the break room, as if you ran away in the few minutes that'd passed from the last time he saw you.

"Hey," Steve breathed out, snatching the stupid sailor hat off his head, eyes glancing from you to Robin back to you.

"I see you've met Robin." Steve motioned to the girl standing next to you, her arm reaching up and over your abdomen.

"Yup," Robin said, squeezing your side as she headed for the door back into the parlor. "You're way out of his league, by the way!" Robin called as she shut the break room door behind her.

The sweet sound of your laughter dissolved the scowl right off Steve's face.

"She's - ignore her." Steve ran a hand through his hair, motioning towards the table.

"She's sweet." You took a seat as Steve slid into a chair across from you. "Seems like a good influence." You teased.

"What? I'm totally the good influence here. She's younger too, so I'm, like, basically her mentor or whatever." Steve smiled, voice tapering off as he glanced at you, unspoken questions lingering in his eyes.

"You know, I didn't realize you were... friends with the kids." You said the word carefully, as if the statement would offend Steve.

"Honestly, I didn't either. Gave Dustin some advice and I guess we bonded." Steve shrugged, smile a little sad as he remembered that day.

"Advice? Really?" You let out a small laugh. There was no bite to your words, yet you brought heat to Steve's face, an embarrassed hand coming up to his neck.

"Yeah, I mean..." Steve was a little apprehensive, but your eager gaze led the next words out of his mouth, almost unconsciously. Steve lowered his voice, as if Dustin could hear him from however many miles away. "Dustin had a crush."

Your reaction was priceless; the way your eyes widened in surprise, hand clapping over your mouth as if Steve had just revealed the most groundbreaking piece of news of your life.

"You know, I always suspected -" You began, recalling the way Dustin had described the new girl in Hawkins.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. You say that now." Steve interrupted, eyes crinkling with that award-winning smile.

"No, I did!" You insisted between bursts of laughter. "I swear!"

"Yeah, I guess you always had that kind of intuition," Steve smiled fondly at the memories he kept of you, stored neatly in a special part of his mind. "Remember when you swore John and... Christ, what was her name?"

"Melissa!" The excitement at such a simple recollection made Steve's heart flutter.

"Melissa," Steve snapped his fingers, pointing back at you. "John and Melissa. They looked at each other once in that class we all had."

"You know they're still together?" You reported, eyes gleaming with memories of your old classmates. A lot of them weren't terrible, for the most part.

"What? I swear they've broken up like, twenty times." Steve's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, smile reappearing as he watched you laugh softly.

"Guess there's someone for everyone, right?"

Steve took a second too long to reply, watching the way the florescent lights of Scoops Ahoy illuminated the warm glow on your face, cheeks surely sore from all the smiling. Thoughts betrayed him as he glanced down to your lips; he'd kissed them plenty of times before, but he took all good things for granted back then. The corners of Steve's lips turned up at your suggestion of true love and soulmates; ideas that always entertained him, though he never was quite sure how much of it he bought into.

"Yeah," Steve was suddenly very interested in his hands, tracing figures on his palms. "I guess there is."

He prayed to any higher being out there you couldn't see the way his skin turned pink under your gaze.

⁂

Your trips to Scoops Ahoy quickly became routine, easier to settle into than you'd expected, or even planned.

You'd begun being the one who suggested the kids hang out at Starcourt, eventually drawing suspicion with each additional leap at the mention of the mall; it was strange how they no longer had to beg you to drive them there.

Visits to Scoops Ahoy were made during the week, at hours Steve assured you would be slow, anyway. The last thing you wanted was to get in the way of anyone's work. Though Steve was right for the most part, he couldn't fully control the stream of customers at any given time.

Robin always commented on how you might as well get a job at Scoops with how much time you spent there, but you always laughed the comment off.

"Really, I don't know why you choose to be here, especially when Steve Harrington works here." Robin half-joked as the two of you wiped down tables.

"He's not so bad." You said softly, playing along.

"Sure." Robin teased lightly, smiling growing on her face.

Maybe it would be too much, too serious if you got a job at the same place as Steve. Perhaps you worried of lines you'd cross if that step was taken.

So, you stuck to your little routine of visiting Scoops Ahoy - sometimes with the kids, but mostly alone.

⁂

The bell rings, and Steve turns quickly, throwing the rag he was using to shine the counter over his shoulder. His customer-appropriate smile falters when he sees the guy - the one you had come in with only a few weeks prior - with another girl.

Steve definitely didn't earn himself a tip with his service, but his annoyance (and perhaps jealousy) had sprung onto him out of nowhere. I mean, how did you even stand going out with the guy? Steve recognized him; he had been on the basketball team with him but had never even made it off the bench.

And although high school shouldn't be consuming so much of Steve's mind post-graduation, he can't help but reminisce as he wipes down the counters for the fourth time; no customers to serve - no distractions to keep him from thinking of you.

His thoughts hadn't initially started with you, but it seemed like you were seeping into every crevice of his brain. When you weren't around, he talked Robin's ear off about you, funny stories you had shared, or pointing out something he remembered you enjoyed. And, really, he wasn't sure he ever stopped being able to think about you.

But all those thoughts, all his memories of you, eventually led him back to the part were he ruined it all.

Maybe something about all the shit he's seen these past two years, the life-threatening situations he found himself in over and over again finally made Steve grow up. There were much more important things than whether the people he associated with were cool enough to be around; no value in things like his reputation. He was sure you'd been the only person, at least back then, to really care about him.

Even then, he was too afraid to let his persona down around you. He was always a gentleman, always suave; but never vulnerable. Not enough, anyway.

The way he acted back then makes Steve want to go back and help Jonathan get a few more punches in, really. And Steve, even after your tenth time visiting Scoops Ahoy, can't wrap his head around the idea that you're here, willing to even talk to him.

So, if friendship is all you have to offer Steve, that's what he'll take.

But it's beginning to eat away at him.

Steve turns his engine off once he pulls into your driveway, but it's as if you can sense he doesn't want you to go quite yet.

There's no tension, not like last time, but Steve's turned toward you and he has that habit of biting his lips when he's nervous and it's making you nervous.

"We never did, um... talk about-"

"Steve, we really don't have to-"

"Why? I mean, I can admit to all of it and I just want to-"

"Well, I don't want to, Steve!" You say exasperatedly. Perhaps it's because the strange form of friendship you have with him now is riding on the fact that you've managed to swallow all your pain and put it far behind you, to associate it with a version of Steve that didn't exist anymore. Maybe it was easier to believe that you had both had been playing pretend with each other, never really together. And, god, was Steve making it difficult for you.

"I care about you," Steve starts once the silence has become unbearable. "I mean, I did before, too, and I was really bad at showing it, but I did love you-" Shit. That's not what Steve had meant to say.

"Steve-"

"I didn't mean..." Steve sighs, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

"I don't think you do. Love me." Your voice is so soft, careful. "Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you think you do now. But I think... maybe you're just a little lonely, Steve."

You can't bring yourself to look at him. Not as you open the passenger car door, not as you make a quiet exit, not as you enter your home; leaving him as just as you did two years ago.

Once again, Steve's made all this so complicated.

⁂

You have the decency not to show up to Scoops Ahoy anymore, much to Steve's dismay. He wasn't trying to change anything. He had been more than content with just seeing you semi-regularly; maybe that's why he still searched for your face in the crowd.

But you didn't want Steve to stay in love with you, or stay confused, or whatever it was you thought Steve was feeling. He knew that. He also knew that your actions, however kind, were pointless. A piece of Steve would always be reserved for you.

Isn't that what being in love feels like?

⁂

Your shift in demeanor when the kids bring up Starcourt gives you away quickly.

It's subtle; a furrow of your brow, an avoidance of eye contact, an excuse, and a suggestion of a different place to visit.

Max catches on first, testing her theory with questions, eventually leading the topic back up to Steve.

"You like him, don't you?" Max smiles, thinking she's figured it out. "He obviously likes you, too, so there's nothing to worry about!"

You bite back a tart laugh. That was exactly the problem. "I promise you, I do not like Steve."

"Didn't you guys date before?" Mike pipes up, faintly recalling some type of history between the two of you.

"We did."

"So why'd you break up? Did he do something? I know with Nancy-"

"Mike!" Max scoffs. "Obviously she doesn't want to talk about it!"

"Guys, it's fine," you insist. "But I promise, there's nothing going on between Steve and I."

"Oh-kay," Mike raises his hand in surrender. "But do you really think we'd ever willingly just hang out with Steve Harrington?" Max frowns and smacks Mike's arm. "Ow! What? I'm just saying!"

⁂

"And then I told her I still loved her. But it was an accident!"

"Still love her? As in, did before?"

"We were together for a while junior year. It... didn't end very well."

Robin sits with this information, faintly recalling ignoring hushed whispers about a situation her sophomore year, Steve's name thrown around more than usual.

"Okay, so what'd she say?"

Steve goes quiet, suddenly very intrigued by his half-eaten banana. "That I didn't and I was just lonely."

Robin can at least acknowledge the pain in Steve's voice, no matter how he tries to hide it. "I really don't mean to be a downer, but... you've only been talking regularly for, what, a few weeks? And you just realized you've been in love for who knows how long after a few weeks?"

It doesn't sound rational. Not in Steve's head, or anyone else's. And maybe Steve didn't really know what love was. It wasn't like he'd ever been around a good example of it. Perhaps he was still too young, too deprived of love to recognize it.

But Steve's heart was trying so desperately to convince him otherwise, recalling all the moments you'd made him feel too much too quickly, dating back to sophomore year.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Steve mutters, throwing the rest of his banana into the trash, his appetite suddenly lost.

⁂

It's been days since Steve last saw you.

It would've been unbearable if Dustin hadn't come home a few days after your last talk with Steve - and really, Steve couldn't be more grateful.

It was strange how much he missed Dustin. It was strange how their friendship continued past demonic dogs together, and even stranger how much normalcy Dustin was able to bring Steve - though there was no way it could've lasted long.

Dustin came in with a secret Russian code begging to be cracked. Of course, after Steve, the second person he wanted to loop in was you. And of course, you came running.

⁂

Your little mission has led you to an elevator - trapped, if you wanted to be completely accurate.

You knew this was a bad idea - but it was better to tag along and try to keep them as safe as possible than to leave them on their own. Right?

There's not much of a bright side, though. No way to push yourself into danger as long as it meant getting everyone else to safety - wherever you were going, you'd all be going together.

The idea didn't comfort you.

"I think you were right." Steve interrupts your useless brainstorming of ways to get out - something the rest of them had given up on a while ago.

"Hmm? About the door?"

"What? No," Steve laughs, arms crossed as he stands in a corner of the elevator, hoping for as much privacy as he could get with three other people. "No, I mean... me. Us. About what you said that day."

"Oh. That." Your chest tightens, and you're unable to distinguish if it's discomfort or hurt. It was confirmation. You were right. Steve had never really loved you.

"That," Steve repeats. "I didn't... I never wanted anything to change. You want to be friends, that's all we'll be. I'm happy with that. Just... I want you to stick around, alright? I mean, it's bad enough I dragged you into this-"

You scoff. "Steve, I'm the one who dragged you into this."

Steve's brows furrow as he gives you a look.

"Two years ago. If I hadn't opened that door..."

"Oh, you mean if you'd shot me?"

Both of you laugh. "I should've shot you! I think you would've been better off." Cause, god did it feel like you were a magnet, dragging Steve towards everything terrible that popped up in Hawkins.

"Nah," Steve shakes his head. "It's all taught me a lot. Made me think about things differently."

You'd almost be grateful for the whirring noise that picked up your attention - if it didn't hammer in the last nail in the we're so screwed coffin.

The sense of dread that sticks in the pit of your stomach doesn't go away, even as you all finally make it out of the elevator; it seems to intensify with each step taken down the abnormally long hallway.

Something wasn't right.

At least you weren't alone. Steve and Dustin slow their paces alongside you as the three of you begin to exchange looks and whispers.

"Look, it's just a theory, right?" Steve chirps. "We don't know for sure."

"Yeah, but if we are right..." Dustin trails off, eyes falling on you as you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Better start praying we're wrong," you mumble, quickening your pace before the three of you lag too far behind.

⁂

Your situation somehow worsens when you stumble upon the main hub, or whatever this place was, dozens of very heavily armed guards standing perfectly in between you and the room you wanted to break in to.

Somehow, slowly and sneakily, the five of you make it; and you would've been home free if it weren't for the soldier in the coms room, hand reaching for his gun before you can even react.

Luckily, Steve's faster. He has the soldier down in a surprising amount of time, considering his odds when it came to fights.

"You can shoot, right?" Dustin says, motioning to the knocked-out solider. "Take his gun!"

You consider it, but only for a few seconds. "No," you shake your head. "There's too many of them out there. If they see us with a gun, they'll shoot. At all of us."

There was no way you were putting everyone in that type of danger. The mood goes solemn with the thought, only snapping out of it when Robin's voice interrupts.

"Guys," she says breathlessly, motioning to the stairs behind her. "There's something up there."

Quietly, everyone makes their way up the stairs to a small room with windows that confirm your suspicions.

Whoever these people are, they're trying to reopen The Gate.

⁂

It's not long after you notice the missing guard that the alarms go off and god, you never should've let the kids get involved.

Your body moves quicker than your brain, breaking into a run while you try to navigate the facility and, simultaneously, lead everyone to somewhere safe.

There's an empty room and you shut the door as soon as the last person enters, immediately leaning yourself against the door to try and keep it shut. Steve's right beside you, bracing himself with his back against the door.

"Go!" Steve shouts and you think he's urging Dustin and Erica down the vent they've uncovered - but you turn your head and realize he's talking to you.

"What? No-"

"Please," Steve pleads, desperately. "Please go."

Robin acts quickly, urging you towards the kids as she places herself against the door. "I've got it," she assures.

Because, even if she hasn't known Steve for long, she knows he'll never forgive her if something Robin could've prevented happened to you.

There's not a lot of time; not as Dustin stands halfway in the vent, not as the soldiers group around the door, trying to force their way in.

So you go.

⁂

Your throat tightens as the space around you constricts drastically, but having to crawl through vents isn't your main concern.

The regret was instant, the urge to turn back strong. But where would that get you? No, where would that get the kids?

Steve had sent you to protect them. Yes, that was it. That was what you had to do now. Focus and get them out.

"Come on," you say, wiping the sweat off your brow as you all come to a fan blocking your passage. "Pass me the screwdriver."

⁂

"Oh, god."

Dustin works on Steve and Robin's restraints hastily as you stare down at the man you'd... electrocuted? killed?

You don't feel bad, not after seeing the damage on Steve's face. His uniform is stained with fresh blood still streaming from the gash near his mouth. His eye is almost swollen shut. Robin, at least, looks physically unscathed, but who knows what they did or said?

"Get ready to run," Dustin warns, finally pulling the restraints loose.

Though, it was a lot less running and a lot more dragging.

⁂

"Are they drunk?"

"No, no," you crouch next to Steve, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. "I think they got drugged."

"What? I'm fine," Steve laughs, hands reaching for your face.

"Steve, let me see your eyes." You try to hold him still, pulling his eyelid up to check his pupils; his extremely dilated pupils.

"No, I wanna see your- ow- eyes," Steve mumbles.

You turn back to Dustin and Erica. "Definitely drugged."

The elevator comes to a stop and you're dragging Steve up. He almost knocks you over with the way he clings onto you, laughing about something you can't understand. You pull Robin up with your free hand, grip on them strong as you tug them out of the room.

"Shit!" Dustin cries as guards begin to run at you.

"Go, go," You motion towards the room to your left, dragging Steve and Robin along as quickly as you possibly can.

"Why are we running?" Robin groans, trying to worm herself out of your grasp.

Dustin takes the lead, navigating the hallways you're sure Steve has taught him how to sneak through. Thank god for their bribery.

Dustin finds the right door and sticks his head out. "All clear," he announces before opening it fully.

"Okay," you stop for a breath, letting Steve and Robin loose and turning towards Dustin and Erica. "My car's parked out front, we can get out through the side entrance and..." you reach into your back pocket for your keys but come up empty-handed.

Your heart drops.

"What?" Dustin asks, staring at your expression.

"My keys are gone," you say solemnly.

"What do you mean they're gone?"

You check your back pocket again. And your other one, and your front ones. "They're gone. They must've fallen out somewhere, shit!"

"Hey, guys?" Erica calls. "Where'd they go?"

Your head snaps; Erica's right. Robin and Steve are gone.

"We're gonna need backup," Dustin sighs.

⁂

"Okay, my turn," Robin giggles. "What really happened between you and... you know. I mean, I heard rumors but..."

Steve sighs from his stall, leaning his head against the wall.

"I cheated on her. With her best friend."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, it's definitely still in your system."

"Biggest mistake of my entire life. I don't even know why I did it. I guess I was so used to... pretending. I thought... that maybe she didn't actually think our relationship was real. I mean, looking back, I don't think I had any genuine relationships... with anyone, except her. I just... got caught up in all the lies and thought we were one, too."

Robin sits quietly, unsure of how to respond.

"You OD over there?"

She laughs. "No, no, I am still alive."

Steve slides under the stall, leaning back opposite of Robin. "I guess... I never expected her to forgive me, right? She said she did, but... I don't know. I guess I never forgave myself."

"She still cares about you, y'know?" Robin offers. "I mean, it's obvious."

That at least pulls out a laugh from Steve. "Yeah, I don't know. I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to move on. Meet new people."

Maybe the shit Robin got injected with is still messing with her head - or maybe the sad look in Steve's eyes is killing her. She doesn't know him as well as she thought she did, couldn't chalk up his character to rich, popular, white boy with no problems of his own.

But to do this, to be actual friends with Steve Harrington, there was something he needed to know.

"Do you... remember what I said about Click's class?"

⁂

The walkie-talkie only gets you so far without an extra eight double-a batteries. Seriously, did it really need that many?

You're getting exasperated in your search as you exit the theater and look at the unusually empty Starcourt walkways. That's right. It's the Fourth of July.

"Uh, okay, think," Dustin says. "If I were a drugged-up Steve, where would I be?"

"Maybe they went back to Scoops?" Erica suggests.

"No," you shake your head. "I think I know where they went."

Dustin bursts into the bathroom and you breathe an audible sigh of relief as you spot Steve and Robin in one of the stalls.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Dustin demands.

You stick out your hands immediately, helping Steve and Robin up once again. "Are you guys feeling better?"

"Yup, think we got must of it out of our systems," Steve confirms, suddenly incredibly self-conscious of the blood and vomit staining his uniform. God, he doesn't even want to see what he looks like right now.

But there's nothing but worry in your eyes as you check for any new damage since the last time you saw them. Now, though, in the florescent lights of the Starcourt bathroom, you can really see how Steve's face has been healing.

And by that, you mean it looks even worse.

"It probably looks worse than it is," Steve tries to assure, hands bringing yours that hold his face as you try to inspect it, down.

"Yeah, well, you look like shit," you mutter.

"I really hate to interrupt, but do we have a way out of here?" Robin pipes up.

You sigh. "Dustin tried to call the rest of the kids, but we don't know how much they heard. We have no idea where they are and... my keys are gone! So..."

"We're gonna have to go out there," Dustin says, cracking open the bathroom door.

The rest of you peer over his head, watching as crowds emerge out of the theater.

"And... blend."

⁂

"Abort, abort!"

"Go, go!" For the millionth time, you're rushing everyone along - this time, sliding down the space between the up and down escalators.

"Get behind that counter," you say. "Go!"

You and Steve help Dustin and Erica jump over the counter as each of you press your backs against the nooks made for the employees.

Someone's sneaker squeaks against the linoleum and you hold your breath as you hear a voice, not so far off, saying something you can't understand.

Your eyes fall to your lap, where you realize Steve's hand is clasped around yours. You're not sure who reached for who, but it doesn't matter; you squeeze.

The sound of a car alarm brings surprise to your face as you turn to look at an equally confused Steve. A loud crash has you spinning, hands on the counter as the five of you slowly peer over.

The guards are down, red pools of blood slowly forming under them. The shiny red car once sitting in the middle of the food court sits, smoking, in the side of one of the food stalls.

You all turn slowly, but you only know one person capable of this.

El stands, peering over from the second floor, with the rest of the party, along with Nancy and Jonathan, coming up behind her.

Dustin breaks into a jog to hug Mike and El and you can't deny your pace quickens once you spot Jonathan.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying your house for days," Jonathan says, pulling you into a hug.

"Sorry, I was stuck underneath Starcourt."

He doesn't even have time to ask what the hell you were talking about before you're pulling Nancy into an equally tight embrace.

The game of catch-up commences as you five try to explain how the Russians and the Gate are, in fact, connected until El collapses.

"El? El!"

"My... leg..." El manages out through painful breaths.

"Okay, okay, her leg..."

Nancy moves the gauze on her leg off as Mike carefully rolls up her pant leg, revealing a wound that most certainly does not look right. Something moves inside of it, earning sick groans from the group.

"Keep her talking," Jonathan starts, getting up. "Keep her awake!" He calls sprints off in the direction of the food court, and you help Mike sit El up, carefully.

"You know, it's, uh, not that bad. You know, the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and, like, the whole bone came out of her knee, six inches or something, it was insane-"

"Robin, please," you say lightly.

"You're not helping," Steve adds.

"I'm sorry." She runs a hand through her hair, clearly overwhelmed. You can't blame her, really. Not after all the informaton about monsters and superpowers you all just dumped on her.

"Okay," Jonathan says, returning with a few new tools. "All right, El? This is gonna hurt like hell, okay? Need you to stay real still."

You grab El's hand and squeeze, lightly.

"Here, you're gonna want to bite down on this, okay?"

Jonathan slices the wound with the knife and El screams through the wooden spoon in her mouth, squeezing your hand hard.

Her screams only intensify and a collective gasp is drawn as Jonathan sticks his gloved fingers into the wound.

The pain becomes unbearable for El, your fingers close to breaking, when she spits out the spoon.

"Stop! I can do it... I can do it."

All of you watch in terror as El screams, forcing whatever was in her leg out.

The shop window behind you shatters and you cover her head from the spray of glass, watching as the slimey, fleshy, thing makes it out of her leg and goes flying, crawling, smashed under a shoe.

There stands Hopper, Joyce, and a man you've never seen before.

Now the real game of catch-up commences.

⁂

"Hey," a voice comes up behind you.

"Hey." You turn to see Steve, face a few different shades now. It's too quiet between the two of you now, the world pushing you together harder in the last twenty-four hours than it ever had before. It might've been awkward if the threat of death wasn't looming over your head so consistently.

But there's no objective right now; no enemy to defeat, no facility to escape. No life-saving topics to discuss to distract from all the feelings you were trying to avoid.

"Why don't you let me clean that up?" You motion to his face; namely, his eye. "I'm sure there's a first aid kit somewhere." At the very least, there had to be ice.

Steve nods, unable to think of something cool and nonchalant to say. Robin catches his eye from a few feet away and shoots him a thumbs up - to which he makes a face at her.

There's a kit by the stove of whatever restaurant's counter Steve sits on, bouncing his knee nervously.

It's not the proximity that bothers him, he swears. But your touch has always been one he leans into, instinctively. Even when the alcohol you use to swipe at the dried blood stings when it touches his cuts, Steve doesn't do anything to break the contact between your fingers and his skin.

You're gentle, guiding Steve's head around carefully, even in places where he's uninjured. You apologize when he flinches, and he would shake his head at you if you hadn't insisted he stay still.

There's a look in your eyes, and for what feels like the first time ever, Steve doesn't know what you're feeling.

The corners of your lips pull down into a small frown as you press ice against Steve's swollen eye, apologies escaping you.

"'S fine," Steve insists, taking the responsibility of holding up the bag full of ice cubes from you.

"What... happened in there?" You ask, though you're not sure you really want to hear the answer.

"Oh, pfft. Got punched a few times, injected with a mystery drug. No biggie, really." There was no sarcasm in Steve's voice as he tried to downplay the situation, but his efforts to make you feel better were in vain.

"I should've stayed," you start.

"No-"

"No, I should've stayed, Steve! I had no idea what was happening to you down there and if... if something happened, if something worse had happened-!"

Your hands are in Steve's. Somehow, they've managed to work themselves in there again.

"I was going crazy imagining what they were doing to you. I think I would've preferred getting punched in the face as long as I knew... as long as I was with you."

It's all coming out now, all clicking in your head. You couldn't deny how worried you were about Steve, how panic had filled every crevice of your body when he wasn't in your line of sight; when he was in danger.

And what if he had gotten killed down there? What if one of you were to die fighting whatever fleshy monster you were bound to run into?

"This is a terrible time to say this, but I... I love you, Steve. I mean, as much as I don't want to, I do. It's fine if you're done with me, but you need to know, I mean, I have no idea what's going to happen after this, but almost losing you was the worst feeling of my entire life and we... we've been through some pretty bad shit!" You laugh because that's all you can do, nerves pooling in the pit of your stomach at Steve's silence.

But he's looking up at you with a glint in his good eye and lips parted - shock, maybe.

"Can, I uh... can I kiss you?" Steve asks, hoping you've wiped all the blood off the side of his mouth.

"Might just be your last chance," you smile, leaning in oh-so-carefully.

Steve's lips feel so familiar, but the way he kisses you is not. He's restrained, maybe because of the pain, maybe because of the disbelief. He holds you like he's always held you, carefully swiping a thumb across your cheek as you kiss.

You're careful as you pull away and Steve is starstruck.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," Steve insists. "No, you didn't." Quite the opposite, really.

The worry won't wipe off your face so Steve takes your hands in his, thumbs tracing over your knuckles like he used to always do.

"Don't fuck up again, Harrington." Your voice comes out too soft, too vulnerable.

"I won't," Steve swears. "If I do, I fully give you permission to like... I don't know, chop off my dick or something."

"Hey," Robin calls, though she's unable to keep the grin off her face. "We just got put back on babysitting duty."

She doesn't miss how Steve doesn't let go of your hand all the way outside and she doesn't even mind squishing into the backseat with Dustin and Erica.

⁂

"Griswold Family, do you copy?!"

It's no use. They won't, or can't, pick up.

Your heart thuds in your chest at the thought of all the kids being so close to the danger. This wasn't the plan.

You catch Steve's eye and he nods, the two of you are up and off.

"Where are you going?" Erica demands.

"To get them the hell out of there! Stay here, contact the others!" Steve calls.

"Wait!" Dustin cries, throwing you a walkie. "Stay in touch."

You nod, carefully following Steve downhill as quickly as you can without tripping over yourself.

"Think we're gonna make it?" Steve asks as he manages to get back onto the road, slightly out of breath from the run.

"We're gonna make it," you assure, but you still let Steve's hand squeeze yours for just a second before returning to the wheel.

⁂

"Steve, he's not stopping!"

"Yeah, wouldn't expect that asshole to," Steve mutters. "Okay, hold on!"

You try not to scream as Steve presses the gas, aiming right for Billy. Steve puts his arm out in front of you upon impact, eyebrows drawn in worry.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, though you're not sure how honest you're being. "Come on," you hop out of the car, cramming into Nancy's backseat and shutting the door behind Steve, watching the giant spider flesh thing climb atop of Starcourt.

⁂

It would be comical, really. Dustin and the girlfriend you all thought was fake singing Never Ending Story while a monster chased you around. You'd be laughing if your lives weren't at stake.

"It's turning around," Steve warns and you press yourself closer to the window. Shit. He was right. "It's turning around!"

"Maybe we wore it out?"

"I don't think so!"

Jonathan makes a tight u-turn and, rather than driving the monster away, you're now following it.

Back to Starcourt, it is.

⁂

Your very own light show was right here in the middle of Starcourt, fireworks flung at the Mind Flayer evidently doing some damage. But you couldn't keep this up; the supply was running low and El was still down there with Billy.

All you could do was watch, horror-stricken, as the Mind Flayer got one final kill before the body was disconnected from the brain.

⁂

They put you in shock blankets as you sat in the ambulances. You weren't sure why, but maybe they were doing something. But it felt too constricting, too heavy on you. You had to stand, do something, check up on someone.

Someone beats you to it, bumping your knee with his as he takes a seat next to you.

There's no need for either of you to speak. There's not much to say, anyway.

Instead, you lean into Steve and he wraps his arms around you instantly, his own blanket slipping off as he slides his hands into yours.

There's a ghost of a kiss pressed against your forehead as you bury yourself further into Steve, away from everything horrible you'd seen today.

"Why don't you stay with me tonight?" Steve whispers carefully.

You nod, almost immediately. You don't want to be alone. Not tonight.

⁂

Goodbyes were tough.

Steve had come with you to say goodbye to Jonathan and Will. Despite his rocky relationship with the former and practically non-existant one with the latter, he'd show up anywhere you asked him to.

There were so many memories in the Byers home, some of them completely haunting - but so many of them wonderful.

"Remember when we burnt breakfast so bad it filled the whole house with smoke?" Jonathan reminisces from beside you, leaning against the door frame.

"We? You were supposed to keep an eye on it," you laugh. "Remember Christmas?"

"Yeah, when I had to beg you to stay over?"

"You just didn't want to drive me home."

"Untrue."

The two of you go silent, each of your minds replaying all the memories you had together here. In different orders, you were sure, but all the same memories.

Jonathan pulls you into a hug; tighter than any he's give you before.

"Don't start crying on me now," you joke, but your own throat is beginning to tighten.

"Yeah, you wish."

It's Will and El that almost break you, each of them receiving bone-crushing hugs that they don't complain about - how could they through their sobs?

You hold them until you've got to let go, watching with a heavy heart as all the kids say their final goodbyes.

Not final ones. Just goodbyes, for now.

None of you leave until the U-Haul is long gone, a piece of your little family driving off with them.

⁂

"Steve," you laugh, barely able to get a word in between all the kisses. "I am a forty minute drive away."

"It's almost an hour with traffic," Steve whines, trying to hold you still as he kisses your face.

"Then I'll meet you halfway," you compromise, taking advantage of your cheeks occupying his lips.

"No, no, I'll be here," Steve promises, attacking your lips again.

"Steve!" You laugh, pushing him away. "I'll be home on weekends. And on days I don't have class."

"What if I miss you before that?" Steve mutters, forehead pressed against yours, hands on your hips.

"Then you come visit me. I'm sure my roommate wouldn't mind an extra guest."

Steve groans as you laugh. His hands slide up to frame your face, your own hands resting atop of his.

"I'll see you in five days," you whisper with a smile.

"I'll be counting down the seconds."

Steve kisses you, as lovingly as he always does, until both your lips are puffy.

Maybe this summer wasn't so bad.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff

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cptindanvers · 1 year ago

Text

you (remastered)

summary: y/n is best friends with nancy wheeler and barbara holland. but after her boyfriend, steve cheats on her with nancy and barb disappears, y/n becomes best friends with jonathan byers and helps save hawkins from the evil that lies beneath its surface.

word count; 1,837

set in season one, platonic! jonathan byers x reader

warnings; angsty

It took four "no"s for them to finally mean something to Steve when he asked (more like begged) you to come to the small party he was having. Steve had a record of taking advantage of his parents' frequent absences but they usually only induced your presence in his room.

You had planned on attending, initially. But when a headache formed and only intensified throughout the day, you were positive that another minute of being around Tommy and Carol would drive you clinically insane.

Frequently, different versions of how your life could've gone run through your mind. What if you'd gone? Would you and Steve be together still? Would you still have your two best friends?

You figured Steve was annoyed with you for really not showing up last night - he hadn't picked you up, hadn't waited by your locker. It would've worried you if you weren't so aware of how people's eyes hooked onto you, questions evident over their heads as they wondered why your famous boyfriend wasn't by your side.

You're starting to get really pissed off by the time the last bell rings. Steve isn't standing by the door of your last class like he usually is, ready to kiss you in the middle of the hallway without a care in the world. He doesn't take your things to your locker or carry your bag to his car, ready to take you anywhere you want to go - at least, for a while.

It's chilly once you get out to the parking lot. Maybe a walk in the finger-numbing air will help clear your mind.

You're only a few steps in before you recognize your boyfriend's side profile, threateningly looming over someone else. It doesn't take long to identify Tommy, Carol, and... Jonathan Byers.

Steve wasn't one to take things that far. He still had a reputation to maintain, both at school and with his parents. But you watched as he tore up photographs and dangled Jonathan's camera carelessly in his hands.

You've rerouted yourself, feet taking you in their direction without your brain approving the request first.

Usually, you'd stay out of it but if Steve was already ignoring you then there wasn't much else for you to lose.

And maybe you were a little exhausted, too. Perhaps you'd spent far too long being nothing more than a bystander, guilt and shame bubbling up until you've finally reached your limit.

Jonathan Byers had already lost his younger brother - he really didn’t need this.

"What's going on?" You ask to no one in particular.

"None of your business," Tommy retorts immediately.

You glance at your boyfriend expectedly - but he just shakes his head.

“Just get inside, alright? I’ll catch up with you.” Steve places his hand on your shoulder, attempting to direct you away.

It's useless - especially once you spot the photos you watched Steve tear up. Ones of your best friend undressed in his room.

You pick up one of the crudely ripped pieces from the ground, breaking out of Steve's loose grasp and stepping closer to Jonathan, fury in your eyes.

"What the hell is this?"

Jonathan's eyes jumped from you to the photo to Steve. He saw the anger in Steve's eyes but, under the tightly drawn brows, there was something else. Something in his eyes was pleading.

Jonathan averted his eyes as if it'd save him, looking at the ground as he made his choice.

"Nancy was undressing in Steve’s room last night.”

As soon as those words came from Jonathan’s mouth, his camera paid the price, glass smashing as soon as the device hit the ground.

"It's not what you th-" Steve steps closer from behind you, after the camera has left his grasp. Priorities, right?

Before he could even try to lie his way out of things, you turn sharply, your hand coming up to slap him before you could even think a rational thought.

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” You say, picking up the pieces of the ripped pictures. You weren’t sure why you decided to keep them. Proof? Revenge?

“Come on,” You begin, taking Jonathan’s hand and walking away, knowing he would be dealing with much worse than a broken camera if you left him.

You hadn't even gotten ten steps of distance before a painfully familiar voice caught your attention.

“What’s going on?”

Your head snapped to the right only to see Nancy standing there, wide-eyed and nervous.

Your anger hasn't mellowed but people are beginning to slow in their steps and turn their heads.

“I really can’t believe you, Nancy," you say quietly.

You drag Jonathan along, leaving Nancy behind with tears slipping down her cheeks.

⁂

You're not sure what you were thinking, pulling Jonathan out of there with you. You'd wanted to avoid a scene, for sure, and you didn't know what Jonathan's confession would entail for him other than punches.

"I'm sorry," you begin, words spewing out before you can control them. "For the camera. For letting them treat you like that. Not just today, for all the days."

Tears are beginning to well in your eyes and you turn away from Jonathan. Too many emotions are begging for an outlet, mainly shame and embarrassment. But the hurt is threatening to start seeping in soon now, too.

You try to focus on your breathing, on anything other than your own self-pity.

Jonathan surprises you with a cautious hand on your shoulder, as if he was scared to touch you. "Would you, um... do you want a ride home?"

⁂

"Jonathan, I need your help."

It'd been a few days after the incident with his camera and Jonathan giving you a ride home. You'd expected it to be much more awkward than it initially was - but eventually, the two of you began talking. About what Jonathan had been doing that night, about the hunt for Will, about Barb.

Perhaps that was another big source of your anger towards Steve and Nancy. Apart from the intoxicated infidelity, wasn't it their fault Barb was missing?

"Yeah?"

"Well, I... okay, this is gonna sound stupid, but listen..." There's not much of a defense you can build for yourself considering how crazy you sound - especially saying it all out loud. But you try to explain yourself, try to explain the faceless, humanoid figure you saw around Steve's house when you went looking for her the day prior - and its resemblance to a strange figure in the corner of one of the photographs Steve had ripped up.

“I know it sounds crazy.” You say, eyes looking into Jonathan’s, pleading for him to believe you.

“Yeah, it does," Jonathan nods and your heart sinks. "But I trust you." He places a hand on your shoulder, comforting you once again.

⁂

After figuring out that thing you saw had also been spotted by Jonathan’s mom, you two decided you two better learn some self-defense, just in case.

So, Jonathan taught you how to shoot a gun.

⁂

After coming back from the strange dimension in Mirkwood, you asked Jonathan to stay with you. This whole thing was beginning to get to you - other-worldly places, monsters, kidnappings. Honestly? You were terrified, and sitting alone in an empty room wouldn't do you any favors.

Jonathan gave in eventually, knowing he wouldn't be able to stand sleeping alone, either.

Having someone else in the room soothed you, enough to eventually fall asleep - even if the lights stayed on.

⁂

Whatever this monster-thing was, it was attracted to blood.

Well, it was a working theory. Jonathan had noticed Barb holding her hand like she'd injured it and, although it wasn't much to go off of, it'd do for now.

Perhaps the two of you were in over your heads but you and Jonathan had made your decision - you were going to kill that things.

Jonathan drove you two over to the gun supply store. Somewhere along the way, you began laughing.

"What?" Jonathan asked and, although he was clueless as to what was causing your amusement, he was smiling.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "It's just..." You turn to face him, even if his attention is on getting all your purchases into the trunk of his car. "A week ago. Not even. Two completely different worlds, right?"

Jonathan closes his trunk. "And now you get to suffer the consequences."

You furrow your brows.

Jonathan shrugs. "People talk."

Before you can respond, a loud honk catches both of your attention.

“Hey, freaks! Can’t wait to see your movie!” Someone calls before driving off.

“What was that?” Jonathan asked, obviously confused.

But you knew.

Steve had tried to call you and asked you to the movies to “start over”. You never picked up the phone, but you heard the voicemail.

Jonathan’s confusion only grew as you took off, a walk turning into a run as you stood outside the movie theater, Jonathan attempting to keep up. The both of you stared at the new addition to the Now Showing picture - both your names, spraypainted in red.

You knew your reputation had taken a turn once you'd broken up with Steve - it was inevitable, really. Your popularity really only was thanks to Steve. But it'd nose-dived instead of tapered off when you'd started hanging around Jonathan.

It wasn't like you didn't hear what everyone whispered, but you could usually shut it down with a look or with the truth, albeit put harshly. Depended on who was asking.

Laughter floated from the alley beside the theater. You turn into the alley, facing Steve, Carol, Tommy, and the other girl whose name you never bothered learning.

“Oh, here comes the freak couple!” Carol taunted, making kissing sounds as you stop in front of Steve.

“What the hell, Steve?” Your arms cross in front of your chest. You're on edge. Defensive. So many months together and this is how he's gonna do things?

“Well, it’s obvious you two are a thing,” Steve replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

“What? So you can sleep with Nancy but I can’t hang out with Jonathan?"

“Oh, it's Jonathan now. So, what was Jonathan doing in your room?”

The question makes you falter - usually, when you're with Jonathan, it's out. Never at your house. Except...

You scoff. “Were you spying on me?”

“Answer the question.”

“We were- I just-” You shook your head, finding it difficult to explain that the only reason Jonathan had slept in your room was because entering another, very slimey and dark dimension had terrified you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms.

It's not worth it. You shouldn't have to explain yourself in the first place. Steve's upset you never called back but he was the one who fucked up. Not you.

“Come on,” You say, grabbing Jonathan’s hand and walking away for the second time that week.

“You know, Byers, you’re a screw-up, just like the rest of your family. Honestly, I’m not surprised that Will is dead. I mean, nobody misses him anyway-” Steve started, shoving Jonathan repeatedly. Steve quickly shut up when Jonathan’s fist met his face.

“Jonathan, stop!” You yell, trying to pull him off Steve while simultaneously trying to avoid getting hit.

The fistfight finally ended when the cops showed up, arresting Jonathan while you put your face in your hands in shame and frustration.

⁂

You found yourself at Hawkins Middle. You weren't sure exactly what you were doing there, something about a girl and a pool you needed to fill with salt. You were still a little confused and even more lost as to why Nancy was there. You're sure it had something to do with Mike.

Everyone was sat around the girl, El, as she floated in an inflatable pool in the middle of the school gym. She had been voicing almost everything she saw, trying to find Barbara and Will. Everyone hung on to her words, tension and anticipation hanging in the air.

“Barb…dead.”

Blood rushed in your ears as the weight that had been sitting in your chest for days began to ache. Your throat tightened and god, you couldn't breathe.

Your feet take you outside and your body folds over, hands on your knees as you try to breathe.

It feels like forever before your strangled gasps become shakey breaths and you barely register the opening of the door behind you.

Nancy's here and your resolve breaks.

Somehow, your arms find each other. Somehow, you manage not to blame her.

There was no time for tears. Nancy's eyes were full of fury once the two of you managed to pull away.

“Let’s kill that son of a bitch.”

⁂

There was a knock at the door almost immediately after you all bandaged your bleeding hands. You stuck your head out, careful to not let whoever knocked see the traps and light inside the Byers home.

“Jonathan-" Steve's presence makes your eyes widen. God, you should've made Jonathan answer it. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Something about the scene bothers him sincerely.

"Steve, you should leave," you say seriously.

Steve shakes his head and any annoyance off. "No, no. Look, I- I messed up, alright? I need to apologize.”

“No, Steve, you seriously-” You're cut off by Steve reaching for your hand - the one you'd just sliced open. Shit.

“What happened to your hand? Did Jonathan do that to you? I swear if he hurt you-”

There was no stopping Steve at that point. He managed his way inside despite your insistence, his brows furrowing at all the Christmas lights.

“What the hell is going on here?” Steve yelled, looking around in utter confusion.

Desperation was beginning to consume you - at the end of the day, you didn't want Steve involved in this. You wanted him far, far away.

“Steve.” You say steadily, picking up Lonnie’s gun and pointing it at him. “You need to leave.”

“What the hell?" Steve shouts, scared by your strange behavior. "Put that thing down! Look-”

Nancy calls your name, motioning to the flickering lights, but your attention is stuck on Steve. On making him go.

“Steve! Get out!”

Jonathan yells your name, finally grabbing your attention. “Look!”

Your head snaps, noticing the lights flickering around you.

“Shit.”

⁂

After a lot of initial screaming from Steve, the four of you had done a considerable amount of damage to it before it disappeared.

Now, Jonathan, Nancy, and you had to explain what was going on to a very overwhelmed Steve while heading back to meet with everyone else.

Most of the slack had fallen on you, naturally. It was strange, you and Steve in his car like before, only this time you were stuck having a conversation you couldn't conjure up in your wildest dreams.

"So- so that thing-"

"Demo-something. It's from... it's from a game the kids play."

"That thing is what took Barb and Will?"

"It, um, likes blood. Which is why..." you gesture to the bandaid around your hand.

"And- and Christmas lights?"

"Look, I don't really get it either-"

"No, no," Steve shakes his head. He's quiet as he pulls into a spot at Hawkins Middle but he doesn't move after putting his car into park. "I'm sorry."

It's silent as you try to find the right words to say. With everything happening, you really haven't given Steve much though. You hadn't had a chance to work through your anger or to think of something witty to say in this exact situation.

But you're still angry. Very angry.

"Just forget it, Steve."

"No, I want to apologize-"

"Just forget it. We were never gonna work out, right?"

You don't spare him a glance as you get out of the car. You have bigger things to worry about right now.

⁂

It didn't take very long for you to forgive - Nancy, at least. Drunken mistakes aside, she had never tried to go after Steve before. Plus, you think the two of you needed each other right now.

It was early December when she asked you for permission to pursue him, officially.

"It’s completely alright if you don’t want me to, we just started being friends again and-”

“Nance, it’s okay, really. You two were both drunk and you both apologized. If you like him and he likes you, then who am I to stop you?”

She gave you a big hug after that, but you couldn’t help the tug in your chest.

⁂

“You ready to go?” You asked Jonathan as he climbed back into his car, escaping the harsh December winds.

“Yeah,” Jonathan replied, turning to you. “She kissed me on the cheek.” He said, a small smile spreading on his face.

“Woah there, Byers. Aren’t you moving a bit too fast?”

Jonathan chuckled, lightly punching you on the arm. “Yeah, she’s dating your ex, but hey, a guy can dream. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You and Steve?” Jonathan asked, his smile turning into a smirk.

“Steve cheated on me.” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, well, you can dream, can’t you?”

The two of you laughed, a comfortable silence filling the car.

“Hey, why don’t you stay for dinner? Mom always cooks enough to feed an army.” Jonathan asks as you pull into his driveway.

The offer takes you by surprise. Perhaps you'd thought that once all of that was over, your friendship with Jonathan would be, too. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Come on, spend time with your favorite Byers?” Jonatha smiles, leaning over to open your door. It was really a nicer way of saying I know you don't have anything better to do - except maybe wallow.

“Fine!” You sigh dramatically, getting out of the car.

“You know you love me.” Jonathan nudges your shoulder, a grin matching yours on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever," You shake your head.

Despite everything the two of you had lost, at the very least you'd gotten each other.

⁂

masterlist / read part 2 here! / read part 3 here!

remastered, reworked... happy almost 5 years to this fic! if you'd like, you can read the original here, though i advise against it!

(p.s. part three is coming)

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst

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cptindanvers · 2 years ago

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Asking nancy to prom(romantic)!!!! Or like a hc of asking the stranger things characters to prom, I just love Nancy and saw ur request open!!! xoxo

here you go!!

#anon ask

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cptindanvers · 2 years ago

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asking nancy to prom (headcannons)

you debated asking her for WEEKS before prom

you were trying to build up the courage - you didn’t know if nancy was even into you like that

you chickened out and decided to not ask her until the subject of prom got brought up.

nancy asked if you were going with anyone and you shook your head. you asked her, palms sweaty, and she smiled but said she was waiting for the right person to ask her.

if that wasn’t a sign, you didn’t know what was.

plus, you decided if you misinterpreted the situation and she rejected you, you would simply unenroll from hawkins high.

but if you were going to ask nancy to prom, you were going to do it right

you went all out - flowers, her favorite snacks, a poster with the question on it

you invited her over to “hang out” - there was no way you would ask her at school

and all the fleeting glances and light touches from her were driving you crazy

and then finally, you mustered up the courage

you stood up abruptly, asking nancy to close her eyes and follow you

she complied with a curious glance and a pretty smile

you guided her slowly, carefully, a hand gently pressed over her eyes

and you let her go, watching with weak knees as nancy gasped at the set up

“would you... want to go to prom together? like... as each other’s dates?”

you held your breath as you waited for nancy to say anything

and then her body pressed against yours, her response delivered with a kiss

“i thought you’d never ask.”

#nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #nancy wheeler fluff

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cptindanvers · 2 years ago

Text

update this was not slash j

you part 3 will come out in 3 years

#i have like . 3/4ths of it written #i think im just gonna split it into two parts bc this is terrible actually

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cptindanvers · 2 years ago

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MAZE RUNNER: THE DEATH CURE → Dir. Wes Ball

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cptindanvers · 3 years ago

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seasons of becoming: summer | steve harrington x fem!reader

spring | summer | fall | winter

summary: summer is bees buzzing in the buds of sunflowers tall in lined fields, lazing about in the yard or by the nearest pool for the perfect tan, it's the smell of wet asphalt in the steamy heat after a torrential storm, it's hotdogs on the grill and corn on the cob, sneaking fireworks to the safest corner of Hawkins (probably joyce byers' backyard bc hopper is so smitten he won't do a thing), it's laughing with friends and cursing the things unrequited in spare time. for steve harrington summer includes days spent in his backyard with found family, packing coolers and absolutely not staring at the semi-new edition to the group, half baked invitations to stargazing, choco chip banana cookies, his first constellation (or was it an asterism?), and sleeping under the stars with you. [5k]

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, me using my minimal knowledge about astronomy, not proofed or edited

⤜♡→

Steve finds you in the midst of summer.

It’s a hot one in Hawkins, record breaking some might say. The sticky heat and packed pools are not nearly as appealing as they may have been in your younger years. You’re altogether withdrawn from the distorted jumble of ice cream trucks tantalizing the light pockets of small town youth and pickup games lining cul-de-sacs or a small table in someone’s basement.

You’d somehow found yourself a permanent staple. When you weren’t wrapping gift boxes and tending to the flowers not yet dead from the scalding temperament of the hot season you could often be found lounging with an orange creamsicle between red stained lips in Steve Harrington’s backyard.

There seemed a spot carved especially for you in the lounger half obscured from the sun by a shady tree for most of the day. That is when you weren’t being dragged into the pool by Lucas or entirely occupied by adolescent gossip with El and Max.

It seemed unfair to Steve who was left to the occupation of restocking coolers with cold cans lest anyone brave the cold tile of his kitchen to get something for themselves.

It was there, a can of coca cola lukewarm in his grip, that he saw you for the first time.

It’s a lame excuse to claim the round of his retinas blind to you leading up to now. He won’t claim your beauty as something that snuck up, but he will claim it as something he never thought quite suited him.

You’re the epitome of a warm welcome, eyes always widened with the intonation of rapt attentiveness, lips even in a way that allowed the event of falling flat if something seemed especially scathing, or mocking the upward curve of sliced melon if he said just the right thing. You were never judging or claiming to know something that wasn’t abundant in clarity, offering him a clean slate to present himself as he is rather than defending who he was.

Unfortunately, though a rather subjective take as it were because perhaps it's fairly fortunate for him to catch on but unfortunate in the measurement of his self worth, Steve knows himself to maintain an inch of the discourtesy that controlled him before civility kicked in.

So how not to notice you with your left leg perched so your painted toes tuck beneath your sun kissed thighs, the flesh bare leading up to your bathing suit of a color complimentary to the warmth of your skin.

Your creamsicle is nearly down to the stick, you’re laughing at something Robin’s said and Steve swallows hard when your head tilts back to expose the lengthy column of your neck.

He’s clammy. He wants to blame it on the heat or maybe the lame cold he’d been nursing a week ago, but this feels nothing like the dewy sickness that accumulated on his neck to accompany the slimy post nasal drip that cost him nearly four tissue boxes.

You’d been there then too, but he was too busy not noticing to notice the trouble. The soup you whipped up was homemade, chicken noodle with fresh carrots and celery swimming around in the broth. You brought it to him in a heavy container, far too much soup for one person but somehow he’d eaten it all that week. You didn’t seem slighted when he barely managed a thank you, but rather combed your fingers through his sweat soaked scalp and offered a cold press to sooth the hollow ache in his bones.

“Dude, this is just sad.” Dustin stalks over, snatching the can from Steve, squinting at the warmth and shoving it into the cooler in exchange for one freshly iced.

“What?”

“She’s in your backyard and you still can’t talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” Irritation was never Steve’s strong suit when it came to fending off the gaggle of children he’s thoughtlessly accumulated over the years. They only brush it off their chests, rebounding to their initial burden of nursing him through the film of inadequacy that’s somehow come to overshadow the strong shouldered seductor that lay beneath.

They’re all too similar is what Steve came up with early on, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to tame them with a well placed mark of sarcasm or a gentle punt to their strong egos.

It’s not like they don’t return it in kind, sometimes ten fold.

“Oh, so we’re going with complete ignorance. Fine. But Lucas is gonna kick your ass if you hurt her feelings.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see him try. Anyways, why would I hurt her feelings? I’m just loading a cooler.” He makes a show of it, avoiding your side of the yard, shoving as many cans as possible into the geometric casing. Both parties are well aware of the childish back and forth, but Dustin is the one who relents first, grabbing an extra can and sauntering over to you.

Steve follows him, plopping to the edge of your lounge chair with his shoulders hunched over. He glances through the blinding beam of sunlight attempting to cut through his pupils when your heel prods at his naked back. Your head is tilted to your shoulder, brow arched.

“Something wrong?” You’re teasing, the glint in your eye calling on him directly. Dustin covertly drags Robin to the edge of the pool, both of them close enough to eavesdrop but far enough away for a private moment.

“Nope. How many of those are you gonna eat?” He reclines, holding himself up on his elbows allowing your legs to envelope his slender frame, and taps the stick hanging from the corner of your mouth. It’s your third one today, not that he actually cares, but he does enjoy the way you shift, dragging the orange dyed wood along the crease of your lips.

“I don’t know, they’re good. Is three too many?” He considers you a moment too long, the way your fingers deftly twirl the popsicle stick between your teeth so he can see your tongue poking through the gap. Your eyes have widened a fraction, like it’s an important matter, the number of popsicles deemed acceptable on any occasion.

“Have the whole box for all I care, s’just ice cream.” He pinches your thigh, taking a moment to revel in the way it feels soft and tender beneath his fingers. The instance is longer in his head, but in reality it's truly one that’s fleeting in effect to the way you screech and shove his hand away almost immediately.

“You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.” You tut, thumbing at the flesh of his cheeks in retaliation. He doesn’t hate it, but plays the part of disgruntled and shoves your arm away.

“Take your own advice, babe.” He’s not sure why he said it, he’s not even sure he said it until you don’t say anything back and the two missing stooges glance over their shoulders with funny looks. The circumstance is strange and a strangled groan catches in his throat.

It’s the first time all summer he’s been anything other than horrified by the way the sun tints his skin a shade of red darker than blush when he’s been out for more than five minutes. It seems the one courtesy the season has afforded him, his features already schooled like he’s said nothing out of turn.

“I should get going.” You sigh, maneuvering around Steve’s frame until he takes it upon himself to sit up fully. He tries to gauge your reaction, wondering if he’d unknowingly pushed too far.

“Already bored of us?” Robin calls over her shoulder, catching the attention of the kids splashing in the pool.

“I’m going stargazing tomorrow night so I need to get up early to make sure I can close up on time.” You chirp, collecting your pile of sticks while sliding your feet into your sandals. The sun is just beginning to set, that period of morning reversal fading past the rigid edge of Steve’s roof.

“Stargazing?” Sometimes you say things and it reminds Steve of the whimsical way about you. It’s dizzying to him how you carry yourself.

Unlike him you only just afford the time for days lounging around, budgeted carefully in respect to an adolescent business nestled between shops in town. Even before today he found a certain respect in the way you revel in the enjoyment of all the small things.

“Yeah, I like to go sometimes to see what I can make out.” You shrug, wrangling a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt over your bathing suit. “Why, you wanna come?”

"Uh…sure." It's clear you were joking, not intending him to agree to something so unintentionally intimate. That's not why he agreed, of course not, he's just interested in the experience. "Unless you don't want the company."

"No, you can come. Do you wanna meet there?"

"I can pick you up, it'll save time." The logistics feel something toeing the edge of formality, the edge taken by something awkward fluttering between you.

"Sure, just come by at like seven thirty." You're about to further extend the invitation, Steve can tell when you stiffen turning to the rest of the group watching the two of you curiously from the edge of the pool.

"Sounds good, these losers are planning a new campaign or something so it’ll just be the two of us."

“Yeah, you too have fun.” Dustin winks, an amusement to you, but not so amusing to Steve glaring over your shoulder.

~*~

Steve almost laughed at the look you gave him when you answered the door, like you hadn’t imagined him actually showing up in an old pair of basketball shorts and a light hoodie. It took you a moment to recall him, lips shaping into something that quickly died on your tongue before you let him into your apartment.

The small space was definitely you, neat to a point, your clutter further indicative of your personality. Various cookbooks lining the counters and plants decorating the windowsill in mismatched pots. There’s a bag of soil nestled beneath the tv stand with a sweet seafoam green watering can shaped next to it.

Your tv is tiny, a wonky antenna sticking from the side making him wonder if you ever actually watch it. There’s a radio humming softly in the kitchen, the smell of something sweet heavy in the air, cookies if he had to guess.

You’re dressed in something cute if Steve were to characterize it; a soft pair of shorts and a tank top with a loose cardigan draping your frame. He tries not to notice too hard when the sleeve slips over the curve of your shoulder to rest in the crook of your elbow. He can smell the fresh scent of your shampoo when you close the door behind him, something pretty and feminine he doesn’t think he could name just yet, and light lotion.

“Sorry, I sort of lost track of time.” Didn’t think you would actually show up, he thinks to himself, unsure whether he should be offended or delighted to have caught you off guard.

“No worries, I’m a little early.” You offer him the small kindness of a smile before you scramble toward the kitchen. He ambles after you spotting the oven mitt nesting one of your palms. He rests against the door frame, legs crossed in that cool guy way that often makes you chuckle. “Are you baking?”

“Just something small.” You shrug like you’re embarrassed you’re doing it at all. Steve finds it sweet, the way you’d somehow managed a dusting of flour to the apple of your cheek in the time you’d walked by the counter just ten seconds prior. “My bananas were browning and I decided to make cookies.”

“That’s cute.”

“What’s cute about it? There’s nothing cute about my job.” You grumble, opening the oven a tad to check the dough lined cookie sheet. You pull the tray out, quick to scoop the cookies onto the cooling rack with a well loved spatula.

“Anyone else would’ve tossed the bananas or probably just eaten them if it’s Eddie.” He chuckles, stealing a handful from the bag of chocolate chips propped open on the counter. They’re bittersweet on his tongue, like they aren’t completely enjoyed unless they’re half melted in a blanket of butter and sugar.

“Eddie?”

“Eddie Munson, he’s been on the road with his band for a few months. Actually he’ll probably be back—”

“In two weeks.” You finish, walking the distance to the sink to wet the rag resting on the divider. You wring it between your fingers, nudging Steve to the side to clean the mess of sugar and flour mixing on the counter. Steve is too perplexed to react to the elbow in his side, barely managing to stuff the remaining chocolate chips past his lips where he looks at you with new eyes. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.”

“You didn’t—I didn’t know you even knew who he was.”

“What? Eddie and I have been friends for years, and he’s never mentioned you.”

“It’s a recent development. He doesn’t seem like your type.” Steve is resting on the counter, the vague itch of the wet seeping through his sleeve is nothing compared to the curiosity he’s hoping to scratch behind the ear.

“You mean because everyone says he’s a freak?” —you glance at him, your eyelashes batting attentively— “Well by all accounts, I’m sure he would say the same thing about us.”

“Touche. But seriously, how did you guys even meet?” You bristle, poking lightly at one of the fresh baked goods then passing one over with a hushed warning that it’s not quite cooled. Steve neatly shoves the whole thing into his mouth, preferring the scalding delicacy of the mixed bananas and gooey chocolate melting on his tongue than burning his palm. “C’mon jus’tell me.”

He talks through the sticky bits coating his mouth, lapping at his teeth like a dog with a spoon of peanut butter.

“I don’t know, we were just kinda friends at first. We met at a party and it just stuck I guess.” Steve is suddenly too aware of how small your kitchen is by about the fifth time you shoulder past him. You avoid actually looking at him, somehow the busiest woman in the world navigating the space between the oven and the counter to shovel the semi-cooled cookies into tupperware. “How did you two meet? I would never guess you would click.”

“He was running that dungeons and dragons club at school and Dustin wouldn’t shut up about him.”

“So you don’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that. Our relationship is complicated, okay?”

“Okay.” The subject is worn, Steve watches you pack the cookies as well as a few drinks and a bag of sliced apples into a small wicker basket. He’s confused by the bare minimum picnic, but offers to carry the woven casing when you seal it on the counter.

"I thought we were stargazing." Steve reflects unlocking his car guiding the basket, placing it gently into the emptiness of his backseat. You’re watching him like you don't trust the clumsiness of his hands, cradling a blanket in your arms where you rock on your heels.

"We are, I always bring snacks and blankets. It gets chilly sometimes." You shrug, scrutinizing the uncharacteristic maneuver of Steve opening the passenger door for you. “Why can’t I drive?”

He leans against the open car door, regarding you with his brow teasing the length of his forehead, nearly mating with the hair that drips from his scalp. You hate that he looks so pretty doing it and he hates that you don’t look too impressed with him. “It’s my car.”

“Sure, but it’s my spot. You don’t even know where we’re going.” A fair point, and he’s fallen victim to your horrible sense of verbal direction enough times to relent rather quickly.

His lips flutter along the corner and he’s not sure he can quite make out the words without a lengthy debriefing on exactly how you should handle his baby. He opts for sliding into the passenger seat without further pretense and tries not to smile so wide when you audibly applaud your small victory.

“We should be able to catch the sunset if it isn’t too far.” You’re too smiley to respond, adjusting your seat so you can reach the petals and still maintain relative comfort. Steve almost comments on the way your smile eats up your cheeks, eyes crinkled at the corner making him feel like he’s made your night.

There’s a stupid giddy sensation in his chest, one that all but consumes his nerves when you begin pulling out of your buildings lot. He clears his throat, adjusting the dial on the stereo to something just past the level of white noise.

“So, who do you have your eye on this week?” You finally give him some attention, smooth behind the wheel with your eyes geared forward. The words are icky in Steve’s ears, not something he feels inclined to talk about with you.

Mostly because the girl he’s currently got his eye on is gripping his steering wheel with such firm hands it forces him to adjust in his seat.

It’s only of minor inconvenience to note the other girl, the one that happened to find herself a sufficient extracurricular, was splayed in his backseat just a few days ago and though he knows you would take it in jest if he did bring it up he also believes it would only serve to tarnish his reputation and he’s unwilling to yield the few steps.

“Come on, let’s talk about anything else. I have interests, you know.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. What are your interests?” You. He thinks pathetically, but reels himself by the words dying on his tongue enough to muster an actual response.

“Well…don’t laugh, but I’ve been thinking of going to school actually.” He expects a scoff or a chuckle because surely the idea of him opening a textbook as anything more than a tactic of some cheesy roleplay seems outlandish. But you don’t do either of those things.

Instead you glance at him from the corner of your eye, turning the radio up just a tad. “Oh yeah? What for?”

“Don’t laugh but—”

“Steven, I’m not gonna laugh at you! The only thing that’s gonna make me laugh is you telling me not to every two seconds.” He’s stunned for a moment, the only time anyone has ever called him Steven it’s felt scalding hot or filled with temperament.

His mother when he was young and she felt the need to reprimand him constantly for silly things like tucking his shirt or spilling jam on his new pants. His father when he feels the sudden urge to remind Steve that he’s only adequate when he’s not around which really means both his parents are out of town so wrapped up in controlling each other they forget him altogether.

Or teachers who said it in a mocking tone because it’s the only way to humiliate him without the implication of their own further punishment because he’s a Harrington and that seems to mean something to someone at least.

But when you say it it’s light and airy, like you hadn’t really thought of it at all. You just said it with the stain of your laughter trailing every syllable. He wants you to say it again, and again, and again…

“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, but I’m not gonna make fun of you unless you tell me you wanna go to clown college or something.” He hadn’t realized you’ve already stopped driving, the place you’ve stopped somewhere familiar to him. “Trust me, you don’t need to go to school for that, you’re a natural.”

“Wow, I guess I should just forget it and join the circus.”

“No no, one man show for sure.” You unbuckle, glancing through the windshield like you’re expecting someone else to be there. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I told you I wouldn’t laugh then I called you a clown.” You shrug, rolling your neck on the head of your seat. It makes Steve laugh, shoving his door open to feel the cool evening air on his face. “Why are you laughing?”

“C’mon.”

He fishes the basket from the backseat and lets you lead him through the thickness of tall grass, the blade of a mower clearly nowhere near this place in a few months at least. You don’t seem bothered by it, the tall wisps winding around your calves, tickling the skin the further inland you travel. Eventually it tapers off into an uneven field, perfectly trimmed for the blanket you throw over top of it.

“It’s pretty here.” Steve lowers himself, watching you pick at a patch of overgrown purple flowers creeping over one edge of the cotton fabric. You tuck one of them behind your ear, offering him the rest of the bunch which he’s too stunned to refuse. “I actually think I’ve been here before.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, you have lived here your whole life.” It’s not quite dark yet, but the tail end of golden hour. The sun dances over you with the speckles of fireflies lighting a pattern every few feet. You lay back, extending your hand for one of the bugs to land with a controlled swiftness.

“Yeah…I have.” Your touch is feather light where it absently begins to trace the thick hair lacing Steve’s legs, your attention focused on the setting sun.

It reflects in your eyes with the pretty oranges fading to pinks then darker into violet and blue dusk. Steve has begun picking petals, showering them over your cheeks, heart growing ten sizes when you giggle and collect them in your palm.

She loves me.

She loves me not.

The more he sits the more he stews and Steve hasn’t actually told anyone this since he thought it up to begin with. You're the only person who hasn’t made fun of the idea, so he inhales something fierce.

“I think I wanna study social work.” He exhales it like a weak flame, unsure if it’ll burn at a constant or flicker out with the next vague gust of wind.

You tilt your head to focus on him completely, your lips parting with a winding thought. Steve thinks it must be bad when you have to sit up to even begin to project your initial reaction.

“Really? That’s amazing!” Your hands are cool in his that are somehow always sticky with sweat when he’s around you lately. “God, I think you’d be so good for it, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You’re great with kids, assuming that’s what you wanna focus on, and either way the idea of helping other people is so you.” You gush, tightening your hold on him. You seem to realize just how close you’ve gotten, your bodies are nearly pressed together from every length but one, so you scoot a few inches away.

“I mean, I have to actually get into school first.” Steve mutters, tugging at his ears entirely too hot. Sometimes he thinks of the day you played him for an idiot at Lucas’s scrimmage and it strikes him that under any other circumstance he would’ve held a grudge or at least he wouldn’t be sitting here begging you to notice him. He laughs and you nudge his shoulder, catching him off balance.

He lands against the blanket, though he’s positive there must be a rogue pebble beneath it because it doesn’t feel too good on the back of his head.

“You can do it, you’ve got like ten geniuses at your disposal and I swear as much shit as they give you they only want the best for you.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Yeah, don’t get all mushy. We haven’t even gotten to the actual stargazing yet.” You take up your spot next to him, the subtle darkening of the sky leaving you two specs in the middle of the giant field.

You wonder what it looks like from the perspective of a bird, if it were to swoop low enough would it see you the same way you see yourselves or are you so much more insignificant than you hope? Either way your collective minds wander to a time this would’ve seemed impossible, just a short while ago that you didn’t exist to each other at all.

“Do you actually know about constellations and shit?”

“I know a little. I thrifted these astronomy books back in junior year and brushed up, but really I just know enough to get by.” A knack for downplaying everything you do, Steve scoffs and braces his arm behind his head, nearly elbowing you in the face. He glances over with the intent to apologize but you’re so focused on the sky he doesn’t even think you noticed.

“Lucky for you I know next to nothing. If it’s not a dipper I’m pretty useless.” It’s a slow start, the stars fading into view, adjusting to the new night and the similar circumstance. It’s mostly quiet between you for a while and Steve has to calm his agitation because this is not a date and he has no reason to impress you or to feel like he’s doing a bad job.

“Okay c’mon, it’s easy. Honestly if you do it often enough you’ll be able to pick them out in no time because they’re in nearly the same spot depending on the time of year.” You point toward a single star, tracing it to another until Steve can see you’ve traced a triangle. “The Summer Triangle.”

“I’d love to meet the genius who named that one.”

“Shut up, it sounds like something you’d come up with. Anyway, it’s formed by Vega, Deneb, and Altair.”

“Hey, my first constellation!”

“It’s not a constellation, it's an asterism. The three stars are actually part of different constellations.” You explain, lingering on the brightest of the three positioned at the southern tip of the celestial polygon. “Altair is only seventeen lightyears away which puts it near like the top ten brightest stars in the night sky. It’s the brightest star in the constellation Aquila.”

You gently grab Steve’s wrist where it rests along his stomach. He’s not sure when the air became so cool, but your skin is warm against his pulse and he’s glad you can’t make out the blush he can feel rising to his cheeks. You guide his pointer finger to the shape of what he assumes must be Aquila, though in his mind he’s already forgotten how to pronounce it.

“It looks like a pterodactyl.” He feels dumb saying it, is sure you’re gonna admonish him for not taking you seriously which is not his intention. He’s mentally tracing the shape, pointing out the wings and the beak in case you really do call him out.

“Close enough, it’s supposed to be an eagle.” You chuckle, sitting up to grab the basket of food momentarily forgotten by the pair of you. You offer him a cookie, pulling free a slice of apple and a side of caramel he hadn’t seen you pack. “I brought cider if you want some.”

You pass him a large thermos, your gazes catching something like passing ships. Steve thinks even with his minimal knowledge of proper names and constellations versus whatever the hell an asterism is he could find every star in your eyes just now.

He almost says it, something dorky to parallel a cheesy pickup line that wouldn’t work on you as anything more than a stupid joke you wouldn’t let him live down. Maybe he could do it up disgustingly big and buy you a star, name it something that would make you both laugh at the absurdity of it.

“We should sleep here.” Steve realizes he’s still staring, but he also realizes you are too. The words sort of hanging on the edge of your bottom lip the way ‘here’ seems to drag on for longer than necessary.

“You mean in this field of bugs and weeds?”

“Steve, they’re flowers.” You correct him, adjusting the ‘flower’ you’d previously tucked. “I’ve always wanted to try sleeping here, but I’m too scared to do it alone.”

“So, you wanna do it with me?”

“Why not? You're here, aren’t you? Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything weird.” Sure. Nothing weird at all sleeping in a field with you, don’t even sweat it.

“Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous? I mean, we’re right next to the woods, anything could be out here. Anything could wander out and eat us alive.” Dare he say more he wouldn’t need even the dullest blade to rip the tab on that can of worms.

“You mean me.” Not a question, not even an accusation, just a matter-of-fact statement.

“What?”

“They would eat me because I’m sweet, you on the other hand, they might use you as a toothpick but you’re far too bitter for eating.” Now, Steve isn’t usually bothered by these sorts of defamations of character, but he’s all too concerned that you think he’s bitter. How to change your mind?

There are a few ways, the one that truly speaks to him is far too inappropriate a means of explanation. He could lean just a few feet to the right to place the gentleness of a kiss to your lips, no way you can deny him the confection of his character, especially when one of your cookies is so neatly resting in the buds of his tongue.

You would be so unsuspecting a victim, he can see the way your eyes would widen a fraction, can hear your inner monologue, something about how unsettling it would be for him if he were to open his eyes and see you staring. He would do it for the fun of watching you screw your eyes shut a fraction too late, already too embarrassed to have been caught.

But friends don’t do those things.

So he has to settle for bug bites and a night sleeping in the grass, but at least you’ll be right beside him.

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