#Dustin goes to check on Steve and finds them sleeping in bed together and flips his shit

[artiststarme]

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a proper night’s rest. It had to have been before Vecna started haunting people’s dreams that made the entire Party afraid to close their eyes. Before Max fell into a painful coma and Eddie succumbed to bat bites in the Upside Down. Maybe prior to Spring Break completely, before the Russians under Starcourt and the demodogs and demogorgons. Maybe before his parents became too disappointed in him, before they started punctuating their disgust in him with well-aimed fists. Perhaps he’d never had a restful sleep at all, he couldn’t remember anymore.

But ever since his eyes had landed on the bloody form of his new friend surrounded by carcasses in the desolate trailer park, he couldn’t sleep a wink. Whenever he tried to rest, he imagined the pain Eddie must have gone through (he knew how those teeth felt as they gnawed through thick layers of flesh). He thought of how they had been forced to leave his body down there to rot, how alone Eddie must have been in his final moments. He could vividly picture Eddie’s last breath and gurgling pain every night in his nightmares. Steve would snap awake every night, gasping for air and jumping at shadows.

For weeks, he isolated himself. He only went to work and back and even that was taken away from him once he dozed off at the counter on one of his shifts with Keith. Without Robin there to gently wake him up and cover for him, he lost his job then and there. Without anything to drag him out of the house, he began spending every minute cowering from his own thoughts. He couldn’t sleep at night and he would hallucinate during the day. He’d see shadow figures in the corner of his eye, hear distorted screeches and screams of pain. On the bad days, he’d even hear Eddie’s voice amidst the chaos.

Steve thought he’d lost his mind.

After so many years of dealing with the impossible, the craziness had caught up with him and poisoned his mind. Or maybe Vecna had finally caught by up to him. Had he finally decided to stop targeting teens in high school to move onto more traumatized targets (i.e., Steve)? Unfortunately, he couldn’t find it in himself to care either way.

He never expected his new turned dead friend to shake his shoulder gently to wake him up from a nightmare. Steve jerked awake to find soft brown eyes staring at him in concern.

His reaction was completely valid. He screamed his head off.

Steve screamed and cried as the Hallucination Eddie’s eyes widened in fear before frantic shushing and spastic hand waving began.

“Shh! Harrington, Jesus H. Christ, calm down. Holy shit, I thought you’d be the calm one. Calm down, please god.”

When his throat finally lost its ability to scream, he took a good look at Eddie. His eyes were dull, shadows bruised his face, and his skin was far paler than Steve had ever seen. New scars marred his cheek and lower jaw right where the bats had gnawed.

Was… was he really here?

“Eddie?”

The man in question beamed in response, “I see we’re on a first name basis now, Stevie. If I knew this was all I had to do, I would’ve almost died a long time ago!”

Steve threw himself forward into Eddie’s arms and ignored both his own aches and pains and Eddie’s oomph of surprise.

“You’re not going to be here in the morning, are you?” Steve whispered into the crook of his neck.

Eddie’s shaky hand latched onto Steve’s shoulder to deepen the hug. “Hell Steve, I’ll never leave you again if you’ll have me.”

Steve fell asleep in Eddie’s arms and when he woke up, he was curled against the warmth of his chest with a cold towel on his forehead. It hadn’t been a dream after all. Eddie had saved himself and had come to Steve’s. From that day forward, Steve had Eddie. He made the days meaningful and the nights restful, just as they always should have been.

[skullrock]

santa monica - Steve x Reader

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Season 4 AU where the gang decides to go to Russia to save Hopper. Steve’s worried he will die - he decides to spend his last night as a free man with you. 

word count: 2k

warnings: angst!!!!

a/n: partly inspired by Santa Monica by the Front Bottoms. (lyrics)

===

Steve’s gripping the cord to the payphone, his voice shaking as he asks the operator to connect him to you.

He’s going to Russia with everyone to free Hopper. Or, at least try to free Hopper. Steve’s bets are that everyone is going to be obliterated by tanks and bombs. But Robin says there’s a chance, and Dustin’s hopes are up, and he doesn’t want to bring the mood down. But Steve has this gut feeling that it’s not going to go well.

He’s in a bit of a pickle from this, too. For weeks, he’d been grappling with the fact that he was in love with you. Truly, deeply, madly in love with you. So much that his heart hurt and ached when you weren’t around; his core felt empty; he dreamed of being with you every hour of the day. He never made a move in case his life was in peril again. He didn’t want to involve you in this bullshit, get you hurt, get you in trouble. And it seemed like the freedom from his demons and trauma was so close – now, he’s back into the bullshit, and there’s a chance he won’t get out of it.

The only thing he could think of doing was spending his last certified night as a free, alive man with you.

“Hello?” you answer from the other line. It’s 10 pm and you’re getting ready for bed.

Steve’s eyes squeeze shut, and his fingers wrap around the cord tightly. He lets out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him at the sound of your voice. Your voice felt like home, and it grounded him from the chaos temporarily.

You knew it was Steve from the exhale. “Steve?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. There’s a thousand words in his head, but the only one that comes out is, “Sleepover?”

You laugh and his heart drops. “Sleepover? Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“You alright, Steve?” You know when Steve is stressed. He confided in you on a very surface level, despite being close. He’d rant, then say he was fine. But the pain in his eyes told you differently.

Steve rests his head on the glass of the payphone, letting out another breath. “I’m okay. I just need some company.”

“You have the best company right here. Come over.”

Steve goes home and packs his bags. One overnight bag, and one for Russia. He’s not very sure why he’s taking his Farrah Fawcett spray to Russia, but it’s comforting to have it. He calls his parents to tell them he’ll be out of town for a week or so. He shuts and locks the door, gets back in his car. He checks himself out a few times before going to your house. His tongue presses against the roof of his mouth to fight back tears.

Steve arrives and you can tell he’s not okay. You usher him in, pulling him into a hug as the door shuts. Steve buries his head into your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut again. A few unsteady breaths leave him before you pull back, searching his eyes for answers.

“Steve.”

Steve looks down at you, eyes red. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek. For a moment, you think this is it – he’s finally going to tell you he loves you. He’s finally going to sweep you off your feet like you always imagined. He’s going to say something dorky and stupid and yet inspiring and intelligent, and you’ll tell him you love him, too.

His eyes are only sad as he looks back, however. He carries the weight of the world on his slumped shoulders. His warm brown eyes aren’t warm; they’re detached and cold. He seems mentally a thousand miles away, and you don’t know what to do to help.

“I just….” He sighs and drops his hand to your shoulder. “Can you hold me?”

Soon you’re both in bed. You lay behind him, an arm tightly wound around his torso. Your eyes scan the beauty marks that stretch down his neck. They fall to his strong shoulders and stay there. You think maybe the back of his head will give you answers to your questions, but all you get is stiffness.

“What would you do if it was your last night alive?” he asks suddenly.

You sit up immediately, but Steve continues laying, his own arms replacing yours. You shake your head incredulously. “Steve, what’s going on?”

“I’m not going to die,” he explains – though it’s pretty unconvincing. “Just – what would you do if you knew it was your last night?”

You stay silent, shocked and unsure. He finally rolls over and you meet his eyes. They’re much softer than they were before, almost relaxed. He reaches out for you, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m okay, Y/N. I just wanna know.”

You relax, propping yourself up on your elbow. Steve does the same, and you’re face to face. Your hands find each other’s again, lacing and squeezing.

“If it was my last night alive,” you whisper, “I’d want to spend it with you.”

Steve blushes and smiles. “You mean that?”

More than you know, you think. Your hand squeezes his again. “Of course I mean it.”

Steve’s mouth feels dry, and he wants to look away, but he can’t. Instead, he whispers, “Can we pretend?”

“Pretend?”

“That just for the night… just tonight, that we’re in love?”

Your heart picks up. An unsure hand goes to his cheek and you frown. “Why just tonight?”

His hand rests over yours as his eyes shoot downwards. He can’t confess his feelings for you and then skip town. Maybe if he lives through all this, he can confess it truly. But tonight, he just wants the illusion. The illusion that his life is normal – that he’s a kid with a future and nothing holding him back. That someone loves him and cares about him, after years of losing every good thing he’s ever had.

After a moment, he says, “I just need to feel it.”

Tears well in your eyes and you close them so he can’t see. He just wants to feel loved for one night, not eternity. It’s heartbreaking for multiple reasons – does he not think he’s worthy of love for more than a couple hours? Does he not want love from you for more than a night? He’s so sad though, and so lost, so you agree. It would be nice to feel loved by him for one night, too.

“I can do that,” you answer.

He leans forward then, kissing you softly. It’s tender, gentle, dizzying. You’d wanted it forever. He pulls you close to him, arms wrapping tight around your waist. Your lips continue to move together. Steve hopes the passion is translating, because he really, really loves you. He wishes he could convince himself that he can tell you tonight. He wants to confess it so quietly that you can hardly hear. He wants to be the one. But he refuses to leave you with a broken heart if something horrific happens. Pretending seems like the best for both of you.

“Steve,” you murmur against his lips. “What’s going on?”

He rests his forehead against yours, thinking carefully. “I have to go on a trip tomorrow is all. And I’m going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

He pauses. “Santa Monica.”

“Is something tragic going to happen there?”

He shakes his head and laughs sadly. “Just worried I won’t come back.”

“You will,” you whisper, kissing his forehead. “I’ll protect you, all the way from Hawkins.”

Steve wishes so much, so desperately that was true. That you could protect him without being in danger. All he wants is to be protected, held, hushed after nightmares and episodes. He wants your arms around him, telling him it’s okay.

“Wish it worked like that.” It’s all he can say.

“Santa Monica is nice,” you say softly as you rake your fingers through his hair. “You’ll have fun. Don’t be so sad, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t even know what the hell Santa Monica is – it’s just the first thing that came to mind. He figures it’s the exact opposite of a Russian base.

“What’s it like?” he asks quietly.

“There are beaches, and there’s this big pier, and there’s a Ferris wheel. Lots of weed.” You gently tickle his stomach and he laughs. “It’s a nice town for someone our age.”

Steve closes his eyes and imagines being there. Warm sand, warm sun, the cold water tickling his feet. You beside him, drinking some alcohol. At night, the stars shine brightly, illuminating the two of you as you kiss. The image of a superior couple, loving himself and you.

“Maybe I’ll take you there,” he whispers. “When I come back.”

“I’d like that.”

It’s silent for a while, and Steve asks again, “Can you hold me?”

He flips over and you wrap him in your arms again. Steve loves being held, and even if he wasn’t about to die, he’d ask for it. It was customary in your friendship to hold each other – and you truly loved holding Steve. You wanted to protect him from whatever evil he hid from you. You wanted to feel his warm body pressed against you, wake up to his brown hair in the glow of the morning sun. These are interesting circumstances, but you’ll take it, because you love Steve more than you’ve loved anyone in your whole life. It’s what he deserves.

Steve once again laces his fingers through yours and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “If it was my last night on earth, I’d want to be with you, too.”

You squeeze him tighter. Your mouth opens and falls a few times before you say, “I love you, Steve.”

He smiles and pushes back tears. “I love you, Y/N.”

It’s a confession under the guise of pretend.

You both sleep just like that – Steve curled up against your back like a child as you held him, occasionally running your fingers through his hair. It was heaven for Steve, the perfect way to end his life that once was. The perfect way to send off his existence – because whether he died or not, he wasn’t going to come back the same. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it would all be over, and maybe he really could take you to Santa Monica.

Maybes aren’t a lot, but they’re enough for someone who doesn’t think he has a chance.

Steve wakes early in the morning to meet at the Wheeler house before departing on their journey. He feels oddly calm and collected. He feels like he has more of a chance. Something to look forward to, if only he just survives and gets back home to you, his love, his life.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, hugging him tightly. “I’ll be right here when you’re back.”

Steve hugs back. “I’ll see you soon.”

You smile at him as you pull back. “I love you.” It’s almost like a joke, here in the soft blue light of morning, but you mean it.

He nods, swallowing hard. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t want to turn away from you to walk to his car. Every step feels like a step closer to doom, to losing you. He opens the driver’s side door.

“Hey, Steve?”

He glances over the roof to look at you.

“Be careful, okay?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I promise I will.”

===

taglist:  @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo​ @darth-el @sourapplebaby @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @andyl394 @astil-be @troop-scoop​ @ilovebucketbarnes @with-a-little-bit-of-light​

[ghostspideys-moved]

Jump Scare || J.B.

A/N: Honestly, I’m not totally sure if this takes place after canon events or not, so I’ll leave that to your imaginations.

Pairing: Jonathan x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Going camping sounds relaxing enough, as long as you don’t get scared of the dark - or what lurks in it.

It’s been awhile since you've had time to relax, and it seems like everyone else is on the same page. Camping in the woods wasn't exactly how you pictured relaxing, but now that you're here, you're warming up to it. 

Sure, it did take a while to get everything set up, but now that it's out of the way, you're actually having a good time. 

You sit in front of the campfire, happily roasting marshmallows. Sitting next to you is your boyfriend, Jonathan, who seems to be having a better time than you expected. 

He'd been opposed to the thought of being out in the woods, but you managed to drag him along. And now, he looks like he's having a good time. He's actually laughing and talking with everyone, though you suppose it helps that he probably feels comfortable around everyone else. 

As you put together a s'more for yourself, Lucas chimes in with an idea. 

"We should tell scary stories," he suggests. 

It's already dark out — the perfect time to tell a few scary stories. Besides, it could be fun. The kids might end up being the most scared of the group.

"You really sure you kids can handle that" Hopper asks.

The kids nod eagerly, so the rest of you give in. 

Shockingly enough, the first person to offer up a story is Steve. And he seems rather excited, too.

You subconsciously scoot closer to Jonathan as the story starts. You're not sure which of you needs it more, but he wraps an arm around your waist almost protectively.

It's just a story, you remind yourself. There's nothing to be scared of. 

And normally, maybe you wouldn't be so scared. But Steve is oddly good at storytelling, and he has everyone hooked. He's good enough that you get a weird feeling you're being watched. Rationally, you know that's not true and you're just scaring yourself. But that doesn't ease your mind at all. 

Steve really has a way of making you paranoid with a simple story. "And those kids were never heard from again," he finishes.

Somehow, you end up much closer to Jonathan than you remember being. Not that you mind, but it was embarrassing being so freaked out over nothing.

The kids look just as freaked out and are clinging to each other, which looks a little awkward with all of them. They seem to make it work, though.

Thankfully, Joyce senses that maybe Steve was a little too good at storytelling. 

"Alright, time for bed," she says, standing up. 

"Wait, but that was only one story?" Dustin exclaimed. "Can't we hear another one."

"Not if you're going to sleep any time soon," Joyce insists. "It's late anyways."

They all groan and get up, heading off to their tent, whispering between themselves. 

Jonathan turns to you. "We should probably get some sleep, too."

You're not sure how well you'll sleep after that, but you know he's right. You are a little tired, and you'll probably feel a lot better once you're sleeping next to him.

Both of you stand and say goodnight before heading to your shared tent. Just as you predict, you're already growing sleepy as you cuddle close to Jonathan for warmth.

You're not sure how long you've been asleep, but at some point in the night, you wake up to Lucas peeking his head into the tent.

"Y/N? Jonathan?"

He sounds scared, his voice shaking a little, which brings you out of your sleepy state much quicker. He must have had a nightmare or something.

"Lucas? What is it?" You sit up, rubbing your eyes, and give him a look of concern.

"I can't find Mike," he said. Immediately, an alarm goes off in your head, and you step out of your sleeping bag.

"What do you mean you can't find him?"  

“I woke up and he wasn’t in the tent.”

You search for some rational explanation. Like, maybe he got up to go to the bathroom. Or maybe he got scared and didn’t want to wake any of them.

“Did you check to see if he was with Nancy?” you ask. 

“Yeah, and he’s not there either.”

By now, your anxiety is through the roof. What if he wandered off on his own? Or worse, what if he’d been taken. You know that’s not the most rational thought you’ve had, but it was a possibility, so you don’t abandon the thought.

You turn back to see that Jonathan is still sleeping. And you know he can be a worrier, so you leave him be in the hopes you can figure this out without alarming as many people as possible.

You turn back to Lucas. “Do the other kids know?”

“Just Will and Max,” he says. 

“Okay. We’ll get them and search together.”

He nods and runs back out of the tent to grab the other two. Sighing, you follow after him and gather them together. Of course, you grab a flashlight and set some ground rules. You don’t need to lose any more kids than you already have. 

“Everyone is to stick together, and if you see or hear anything, you tell me.”

They all nod, and you take that as your cue to start searching. You’re sure Mike couldn’t have gotten far, if he even wandered this way. Every few steps, you call out for him, hoping for a response, but you never hear one. That worries you even more.

“Mike?” you call out, scanning everywhere with the flashlight. “Mike, where are you?” Again, no response. 

Just as you're about to suggest looking in a different area, something jumps out at you, and you scream. It’s not terribly loud, but enough that it scared Will and Max. Lucas was the first to come to your aid, but he stops when he hears laughing. 

You aim the flashlight in front of you, where Mike is on the floor rolling with laughter. 

“Mike! That’s not funny, we really thought something happened to you!” Your heart is beating rapidly, and you almost want to throttle the kid for scaring you.

“I’m sorry, but —” He trails off momentarily as he bursts into fits of laughter again. “You should have seen your face!”

Your anger dissipates into slight annoyance. “That was the worst joke ever, dude.”

Mike finally gets up, wiping the tears from his eyes. “But it was totally worth it.”

Obviously, you beg to differ. He almost gave you a heart attack! 

“Well, you’re lucky you didn’t actually get lost out here. What the hell were you thinking?”

You don’t have much time to go into exasperated adult mode. Will is tapping you frantically on the shoulder, and you have to bring your rant to a halt.

“Um, Y/N? I think we are lost,” he says.

Taking the flashlight out again, you shine it and find that you have no clue where you guys are. None of you were keeping track of which way you came from.

“Fuck.” You sigh and try to keep everyone calm. “Okay, it can’t be too hard to find our way back, right?” As far as you’re aware, you weren’t too deep into the woods. 

“Maybe we left some footprints or something,” Lucas says. 

It’s not the most reliable method, but you appreciate him trying to help and give it a go anyways. Even with the light, you can’t make out much, so that doesn’t work out. And all of the trees look the same.

“Didn’t we walk past the river at some point?” Max asks. You vaguely remember hearing the water on your search, so she must be right.

“I think so.” It’s the best you have right now, so you try to find the river again, hoping one of you can navigate from there.

With your luck, Max is able to lead the rest of you back from there. You’re not totally sure how she even did it, but you were thankful and unwilling to question it right now.

The moment you spot the campsite again, you sigh in relief. It’s short lived, though, when you see everyone is up. Steve points you out as you guys finally join them again.

“Where the hell were you guys?” he exclaims. “We thought something happened.”

“Mike went into the woods by himself to scare us,” Max explained.

“By yourselves?” Jonathan chimes in. He looks exasperated, maybe even a bit angry, and it’s especially aimed at you.

“Well, we thought we could find him,” you insist. And you did, so you don’t get why he’s so mad.

Hopper diffuses the situation the best he can, not wanting everyone to start yelling at each other. “Alright, everyone get back to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” He seems even less happy, but you’re relieved he’s willing to let it go for the night.

Even as you head back to the tent, you can feel the tension between you and Jonathan. “What were you thinking?” he asks as soon as you’re alone again. 

“I was thinking Mike was lost and someone had to find him.”

“So you didn’t get help?”

You plop down on top of your sleeping bag, crossing your arms. “Yeah, because I didn’t want everyone to freak out. Like you’re doing right now.”

The more you think about it, the more you realize his concern is understandable. You would have reacted the same way if the situation had been flipped.

“I’m sorry, okay? We made it back fine, though.”

Jonathan sighs and sits next to you, taking your hands. “I’m sorry, too. I just...I got so scared when I woke up and you were gone.”

He’s not crying, but you can tell he might be close. Your heart breaks as the reality of the situation settled in. He’d only been worried for your safety, and the kids, too. 

“Hey, I’m okay, Jon.” You pull him close and try to reassure him. “I’m sorry I scared you.” 

You hear a muffled sniffle and pull away long enough to give him a quick kiss. 

He gives a faint smile and kisses your forehead. “Just don’t do that again, okay?”

You nod, and he pulls you back into his arms as you guys try to settle down again. Jonathan is a lot more calm now, but he holds you close and doesn’t go to sleep until you have. You feel safe in his arms. All you want now is to sleep and enjoy being close to him. At least until tomorrow, when you’re bound to get a lecture from Hopper.

//

Taglist: @charmedtenderness​ @jxnehxpper​ @musicalytrashpanda​

[planetsam]

i absolutely love your account. i’ve had a prompt in mind but i’m a terrible writer. and you are the best one i’ve seen. sooo could you maybe do a prompt of jancy trick or treating with the kids. nancy makes him do a couples costume as well. ILY

He’s dozing on the couch, exhausted beyond belief when he realizes he’s not alone.

“Jesus!” he shoots up, “we talked about this, remember?”

Eleven—Jane—stands in the living room, watching him. Steve has adopted most of the kids, which Jonathan thinks is both adorable and strange. But Will has apparently sung his praises to Eleven, who has taken to following him around. At one point she said he smelled like the woods, which is fair since he spends a lot of time out there. But being told how he smelled by a pre-teen girl wasn’t exactly something he’d been expecting. He’s gotten used to her though. She fits in frighteningly well with him and Will. He rubs his eyes and sits up, motioning her over. She perches on the couch next to him.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks after a  moment of silence.

“Halloween,” she says and looks at him, “halloween was bad last year,” he nods, “I want to make Halloween good,” she says and fixes him with one of those looks she gives where she’s suddenly anything but a teenager, “safe is good. I want you to take us trick or treating.”

“I’m—“ he begins but she keeps looking at him, “okay,” he sighs, wondering how he’s in charge of this suddenly, “do I have to be in costume?”

“Yes,” she says, then rolls her eyes in a move Will clearly taught her, “it’s halloween, don’t be lame.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?” he asks.

“You should go to bed,” she says.

“Yes, mom,” he replies, getting to his feet and shuffling off.

He’s about ninety percent sure he was dreaming until Will throws something mustard colored at his face. He shakes out what looks like a tunic and manages to catch a pair of leather pants before they hit him. He looks at the garb and then at Will who looks thrilled with himself. Jonathan can’t quite bring himself to say that him wearing leather pants is very high on the list of things that aren’t happening this year.

“Who am I?” He asks instead.

“You’re Taran from Black Cauldron,” Will says, “we’re all going as our party members, you’re going as a pig farmer.”

“Glad you grounded this stuff in realism,” Jonathan says. Will rolls his eyes.

They don’t wear the costumes to school.

He puts on the costume and tries to avoid the mirrors, working instead on some homework half heartedly before there’s a quick knock on the door. He’s too slow to get there though and it swings open, batted by an invisible hand. He would yell but the very excited cleric and mage bouncing around outside his door. So he straps on his sword instead and looks at them for the final approval. They both grin and grab him, yanking him out of the house which–again–he does not want to do. Not dressed in leather pants anyway.

“Boo!”

El shrieks as Lucas jumps out, Max at his heels. Jonathan claps a hand over her shoulder, reminding her not to use her magic. She looks up and him and grins, he lets her go, sure that it was just for effect.

“Guys! Party stays together,” Mike sighs.

“Says the guy who ran off last year,” Dustin says, clapping him on the back.

Mike rolls his eyes like he’s the adult in the situation. He looks at Jonathan critically, then nods. Jonathan wants to make fun of him for giving his seal of approval but before he can talk two hands clap securely over his eyes. There’s a warm rush of breath against his upper back and he can picture the look on Nancy’s face without any effort at all.

“You can’t see from down there, but I’m rolling my eyes,” he informs her and turns around.

Nancy hasn’t said a word about this whole thing, which he hasn’t thought much of given the disaster of last year. Actually he kind of figured that she was staying at home, which he now realizes was stupid. She’s grinning widely at him and he struggles to keep a straight face at the sight of her in something that’s very pink. Pink, familiar and definitely on the cover of the video cassette Will got for ‘research’. His eyes narrow before he turns to his brother.

“Is this a couples costume?” He questions.

“Uh—“

“Will!” He objects loudly.

The snort of laughter behind him makes him spin around as he, belatedly, remembers that he’s got a girlfriend. That wearing a couple’s costume is something that couples do. It takes an almost embarrassingly long time for his mind to catch up to the rest of him. Forget spending the quiet night indoors, he’s going to just go throw himself into an early grave out of sheer embarrassment. Especially from the bright smile Nancy’s got on her face as he flips between outrage and complete humiliation.

“Who are we?” He gets out desperately.

“You are a pig farmer who becomes a king,” she says, easily looping her arms around his neck, “I am the future ruler of a kingdom who is eventually persuaded to marry you. After you sweep me off my feet.”

It’s really hard to hold onto anger when someone’s combing their fingers through your hair, Jonathan has come to find. It’s not that he’s ever been much of a masochist or even really about self denial. But the little things like this seem to dig into a long-suppressed corner of his chest. He turns back to Nancy helplessly and she smiles at what he’s sure is the completely stupid expression on his face.

“I didn’t know—“ he begins, fumbling for the right words, “couples costume?”

“Yes,” Nancy says firmly, “and trick or treat-escorting,” she adds.

“Why?” He asks and she smiles in a way that makes the leather pants even more uncomfortable.

“Because your girlfriend asked,” she says. He wants to point out that so did Eleven but thinks better of it when she touches their lips together and the taste of sour cherry hits his tongue. Just enough to have him press back into the kiss, “and because it’ll be worth your while.”

They escort the kids over the neighborhood, getting candy for everyone. No-one looks more delighted than Eleven. The most nervous looking one is Will. He keeps lagging, usually winding up by Jonathan’s legs like he hasn’t in years. Jonathan keeps a hand on him when he does, knowing that it’s good for him to face this fear but not wanting to hurt him. One particular house seems to make him pause for the longest.

“Hey, lets go through this one together,” Nancy says , calling the others back. Jonathan feels a squeeze on his wrist from her and shoots her a grateful smile, “what’s your favorite kind of candy?” She keeps up the string of chatter as they move on. “Here,” She says and presses a piece of candy into his mouth.

Strawberry goes into his tongue. Jonathan’s always been impatient and this is no different, he doesn’t let the candy dissolve, he absentmindedly crunches it as they escort the kids to the next house. They all jump up on the step, chiming trick or treat. Nancy nudges him into the shadows and presses her lips to his again.

Lemon collides with the strawberry, sweet and sour hitting each other in a way that’s almost knee weakening. This time he can’t contain the rough sound he makes as he slips his tongue into her mouth, tasting it. She responds eagerly. Until the kids have their candy and they jump apart.

“Next one?” Nancy asks and her voice is a lot steadier than it’s got any right to be.

By the end of the night, there’s a rainbow of flavors on his tongue. Chaotic but somehow they all seem to go together. How she’s not crying from all the sour, he’s got no clue. Well, actually, he does. Because Nancy Wheeler’s the kind of girl who can mix flavors, eat sour candies and orchestrate him being in a couples costume without batting an eyelid. He’s not one for being affectionate in public but he’s got his arm around her shoulders

“Can I go over to Mike’s to look at our candy?” Will questions. Jonathan checks his watch, “come on it’s barely 9!”

“You know how Mom gets,” Jonathan chides him and Will makes a noise that reminds him his brother’s almost a teenager.

“Not if you’re with me,” he says, “you’re just gonna go home and read anyway.”

Nancy looks up at him and he knows what she’s thinking. This is her doing, most of it anyway. He remembers his Halloween plans from last year. When she goes to pull away, he tightens his grip around her and motions Will forward. He whoops and takes off for his friends. Nancy leans back into him.

“I have books at my house,” she voices and Jonathan wonders how the hell he falls for her all over again every time she speaks, “I know this isn’t really your scene—“

“Hey—“

“It’s not!” She says, “last year—“

“Last year I didn’t want to see you at a party with someone else,” he cuts in. The surprise on her face reminds him that for as well as they know each other, she isn’t in his head, “parties aren’t my thing but—“ he shrugs, “I didn’t want to see it.”

“But you came anyway,” she says.

“Yeah,” he tells her, “you asked me to.”

He wonders if she remembers how much she’s done for him just because he’s asked. He wonders why she seems surprised, like it didn’t occur to her before. He wonders if he was maybe at the ultimate level of social creep and awkward this past year, to the point where she thought he was staring at her for other reasons. Other reasons than the fact that he’d have cut his own arm off to wear a stupid couple’s costume with her. He chances bending down and kissing her in her silence. She presses herself up on her toes and before he can overthink anything, he hooks an arm underneath her knees and pulls her up.

“You mentioned sweeping,” he says and she laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carries her all the way back to the Wheeler house.

[truthofherdreams]

Of baseball bats and psychic powers (3)

Steve rents a little flat above the electronics shop, despite his parents’ protests. His mother had wanted him to stay at home for a little while longer and then his father had offered to help with the deposit on a house, which was so fucking ridiculous Steve refused immediately. He likes his bachelor pad, like Nancy calls it, and the fact that he can spend his days off in nothing but his boxers without anybody to see or judge. It’s just enough independence for him who still doesn’t entirely have his shit together.

Kali follows him inside, failing to look bored as her eyes roam every inch of the main room. His cereal bowl is still on the coffee table and he can’t remember the last time he did the dishes, which wasn’t a problem before a hot, deadly girl showed up. Playing host isn’t that good an idea, all of a sudden.

“Pizza okay with you?” He makes his way to the fridge, grabs two cold beers and offers one to her.

She opens it and takes a long gulp, a sigh escaping her mouth when she licks the beer off her upper lip. Steve does a pitiful job of not staring.

“Vegetarian for me,” she answer. Then, when she notices his raised eyebrows, she points to herself. “Hindu.”

Steve stares at her, perplexed. “Isn’t alcohol forbidden?”

Her eye roll is so impressive he’s afraid her eyes will be stuck at the back of her head for a moment, but then she’s back to glaring at him. “That’s Islam, you idiot.”

“Fine, fine.” Can’t really blame him for not knowing those things. Hawkins is mostly white with, like, two black families and a Jewish one. That’s about it.

She’s still glaring by the time he reaches the phone and punches in the pizza parlour’s number. Better not linger on why he knows the number by heart, or how he doesn’t have to give his address. He just asks for two pizzas, one pepperoni, one cheese, and leaves it at that. The phone rings again the moment he hangs up, and he blinks at it before picking it again.

“Hullo?”

“Hey, Steve.” Sometimes, he wonders if his heart will stop doing that weird flip-flop thing every time he hears Nancy’s voice. He’s pretty sure some small part of him will always be in love with her, even if he’s over her now, moved on and everything. It’s kinda hard, completely forgetting your first love. He’s been doing an okay job, but some feelings linger.

“Hey, Nance.” He spares a glance for Kali, who’s now looking at the pictures of the dipshits and him stuck to his fridge, before he takes the phone off its hook on the wall and moves to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in. Mom says she hasn’t seen Mike today and nobody’s answer at Joyce’s so…” So I’m wondering if the end of the world is near. Steve knows the feeling.

“He’s fine. We’re fine. Everybody gathered at Hopper’s and…” He sighs, loud, as he sits down on his bed, one hand in his hair. “Turns out Dustin and I are the only sibling-less in the gang.”

Only silence answers for a few seconds, before, “What do you mean -- is Joyce -- wait. What?”

Steve lets out a low chuckle, before he fills Nancy in. She’s back on the West Coast with Jonathan, settling in San Francisco a couple of weeks before uni starts again. Steve tries not to feel too jealous of them, because he loves his life and everything, but. Sometimes, he wishes he’d gotten out of Hawkins, too.

Nancy, bless her heart, gasps at all the right places, never interrupting him until he’s done with his tale. Even when he’s done, she stays silent for a little while longer, and he pictures her nibbling on her bottom lip or playing with her hair or something very Nancy-like to do.

When she speaks again, it’s with the kind of mirth in her voice that has Steve wish she didn’t speak at all. “So, she’s hot right?”

He lets himself fall backward in bed, one arm above his eyes, with a loud groan. “Is that all you’re focusing on?”

She laughs. “You’re telling me King Steve would let a girl come to his bachelor pad if he didn’t have the hots for her?”

“Hey! Be nice! I let you come to my place, and El, and Red and…”

“Joyce?” He hears the smirk in her voice, and he hates her for it. Just a little. “I mean, girls you’re actually planning to sleep with, not your almost-sisters and everyone’s mom.”

“And you.”

“And me.”

Steve is the one to let the silence linger this time. He’s so very glad he managed to stay friends with Nancy, after everything. Their friendship was rocky at best, at first, when she told him what happened with Jonathan and he nursed his broken heart but. He has no idea what he would do without her as his best friend, even now that she lives so far away. She understands him in a way nobody else ever did.

“Yeah, she’s pretty.”

“‘Pretty’?” she asks with a laugh. “Wow, even worse than I thought.”

“Okay I’m going to hang up on you now.”

She laughs again. “Come on, Steve!”

“Bye, Nancy!”

She’s still talking to him and laughing when he actually hangs up the phone, a smile on his lips. He needed that, someone who doesn’t hero-worship him like the kids do, or glare at him like Hopper, and now Kali, do, or anything. Nancy doesn’t believe his bullshit, and forces him to face the truth. Not that he was particularly denying having the hots for Kali. He has eyes, after all.

When he goes back to the living room and puts the phone where it belongs, it’s to find Kali lounging in his couch. She’s stripped off a few layers of clothes and is now down to a simple black tank top and her jeans, boots and jackets on the floor. There’s a hole in one sock and another one on her knee, and she’s showing way more skin than Steve was ready for. Also, she has her nose in a book, and doesn’t look up even when she says, “Girlfriend?”

“Ex, actually. Now best friend.”

She raises an eyebrow but still won’t look at him, and Steve wonders when exactly he lost his charms with women. If he ever had them in the first place. Or if Kali is a special case, in more than one way.

He’s stopped in his musings, and in Nancy’s words coming back to haunt him, by a knock on the door. It’s his usual delivery guy, some boy he vaguely remembers from high school, and Steve tips him as he grabs both pizza boxes then slams the door shut with his foot. Kali is still reading when he puts the pizzas on the coffee table and sits in the armchair, but she perks up a little at the greasy smell.

“What are you reading?” he asks, because maybe awkward conversation is better than awkward silence.

She doesn’t look up, and deadpans, “Pride and Prejudice,” even if he can clearly see she’s holding a Margaret Atwood book. It’s going to be a long night.

“What’s this about?”

She sighs, and for a moment he believes she’s not going to answer. But then, “It’s a dystopia where fertile women are the slaves of rich families who want children.”

That’s. Okay. Wow. “I too read to escape the shitty world we live in,” he finds himself replying, like a moron.

She snorts a laugh, looking up at him above the top of her book, before she closes it and puts it aside. She grabs a slice of pizza next, smirking at him with her mouth full of food, head tilt to the side. Steve wonders what she sees, what she’s looking for. He’s but a suburban kid with bad jokes and a history of getting himself into trouble and she -- is so much more than that. Much more trouble, too.

“Where do you fit in all of this?” she asks after a while, around another mouthful of pizza. “Jane never mentioned you.”

“Probably because we only met after she came back from her little Chicago adventure,” he replies. Only in passing, and then he’d been at the hospital for two days because of the concussion Billy gave him, and El had been passed out for a full week, and it was another week before they were formally introduced by Dustin. He still remembers the bags under her too big eyes and the smile at the mention of him saving all of their annoying asses in the tunnels. “Told you, I was the babysitter.”

Kali purses her lips, before she points to the corner of the room. “That to play with the kids?”

He doesn’t have to look to know she noticed the baseball bat in the corner. He used to keep it in the trunk of his car, until Hopper saw it and lectured him about safety issues. Now it stays here, ready to be grabbed if something happens. It hasn’t moved in months, thank god. “Yeah, Mike’s into baseball,” he replies, with a smirk of his own.

“You’re weird.”

In her mouth, it sounds like a compliment.

…

He has to fight her over offering his bed to her, because he’s too chivalrous for his own good and she’s too stubborn and this entire scenario is too fucking stupid. Yeah, his couch is not the least comfortable and she’s small enough that she would fit nicely, but. His mother raised him better, okay? When you have a guest over, the guest gets the bed. That’s, like, the most basic rule of all.

Kali rolls her eyes, but she gives up at some point, and throws one pillow at his face before he grabs a spare blanket. She locks herself in the bathroom too, while she’s at it, and Steve fails not to stare when she comes out with a clean face. It makes her look -- soft. Small. Almost vulnerable. She still has the tattoos, and the crazy hair, but now she doesn’t look so tough anymore.

Looks can be deceiving.

“Good night, then.” She’s standing in the doorframe, one foot on top of the other, like she doesn’t know what to do with her body. Her arms swing a little by her sides, and an awkward smile curls up her lips. Like she doesn’t quite know how to deal with kindness and hospitality, which reminds Steve of Hopper’s stories about Eleven. Makes sense.

Steve decides to put her out of her misery with a smile of his own. “Yeah. ‘Night.”

She lingers for a second longer, before she nods to herself and turns around. The door closes, and then silence settles in. Steve sighs, and rubs his face, before he lies on the couch. It’s too small of him, and he struggles to find a comfortable position for long minutes, tossing and turning until he manages to have all his limbs under the blanket and his back not screaming in agony too much.

It’s going to be a long night. Especially since he pictures her every time he closes his eyes, all soft skin and long hair and mysterious eyes, and he hates himself for how predictable he is. Throw a new girl his way, not some Hawkins chick he’s known his whole life, and he’s a pathetic fool. In his mind, Nancy is laughing loudly and Jonathan is shaking his head. They both have a point.