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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 years

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“I have lov-liked you since eighth grade”

pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Byers!Reader

WC: 16.6K (a biggie, happy early Christmas / Hanukkah / Kwanza / or whatever you celebrate)

warnings: cursing, the billy/steve fight (reader gets involved), my terrible writing at times. should be it.

summary: The day is saved! But what happens when you tell the one you lov-like something at the wrong time?

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG -The Byers Harrington Story-

lets say the snowball dance takes place the day before winter break cause they don’t give a specific date, but i always thought that. AND THIS IS MY FIC!! oh baby, NOW I CAN FULLY DO BOYFRIEND STEVE FUCK YEAH!!!!

gonna go on a little hiatus after this chapter. wanna try and stock up my inbetweens for season 2-3. hopefully i’ll be back sometime during the last week on december

series masterlist

@alecmores thank you for all the input when proof reading this season!

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Once again, everyone was split into groups.

Hopper and Eleven drove back to the lab to close the gate. Jonathan, Nancy, and Joyce drove to Hopper’s cabin to hopefully drive the mind flayer out of Will. While those two groups drove off into the unsettling night, your group stayed in your home, the kids were fully against their part of the plan. Dustin headed inside, calling Steve behind him for something. Just as you were following behind, Mike’s exasperated tone stopped you short.

“This is bullshit.”

“Language.”

“(Y/n), you know this is bullshit. We should be helping them!” Mike’s arms were thrown to the empty driveway, Bob’s car stationed.

“Mike, they don’t need us. Right now the best we can do is just not get into unwanted trouble, which I’m sure is already a challenge for you.” You left the boy behind on the porch, too tired to fully fight back.

Instead of being greeted by silence or hushed whispers when you reentered your home, you heard the sound of things falling and crashing into the ground. The crashing stopped and was followed up with talking, all of this coming from your kitchen. Muted footsteps carried you to the entrance of the kitchen, your side leaning against the opening as you watched the scene before you.

Dustin stood in front of the open refrigerator with all the contents spilled onto the floor at his feet. Steve stood across from him, a wrapped dead demo dog secured in a blanket resting in a bridal hold. No words came to mind at the scene, only a brow raised to the boys.

“You’re explaining this to Ms. Byers, all right?” Was the first thing you heard from Steve’s mouth.

He walked to the fridge and tried throwing the dead creature inside, its head and limbs too long and big to automatically fit the small box. You hold a hand over your mouth to muffle any chuckles.

“Christ. Help me out.” Steve demanded from Dustin.

“What am I supposed to do?” “Get the door, man,” Steve huffed at the kid.

Dustin sauntered over to the fridge door, Steve finally finding his way around the fridge and the demo dog.

“Ew. Jesus-”

“God-” Both of them voiced their disgust.

Steve leaned away from the fridge, Dustin pushing the door in. The two of them shut the door closed with a loud thud, panting at all the effort needed for the task. Steve rested a hand atop Dustin’s hat, a brotherly gesture that warmed your heart at the mindless action.

The moment was over when you heard the front door open and saw Lucas, Max, and Mike finally come back inside. You left your hidden spot and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing your broom and dustpan, you walked back to the living room and held the broom to Lucas and the dustpan to Max, “clean,” you pointed to the broken glass on the floor. They sighed but didn’t argue.

You turned back towards the kitchen, Dustin leaving first with a guilty smile thrown your way. You knew the reason but didn’t acknowledge it right away, not until you met Steve in the kitchen. He was squatting near the floor, resting his body on the toes of his feet, heels resting in the open air. A dish towel rested over his shoulder as he threw items into a grocery bag.

You walked forward two steps before you spoke, “why is my fridge on the kitchen floor, Harrington?”

He got startled at the sound of your voice, almost falling to the ground.

“Jesus,” a hand over his heart, “could ya’ warn a guy first?”

“I could, but you and Dustin put a dead demo dog inside my fridge.”

He cringed at your words, “you saw that?”

“Yeah, I did. That boy already has you wrapped around his finger,” you cheekily reply.

He stood to his full height, warming food forgotten at his feet, “Woah, woah. No, that- that’s not-“

“Oh, just say you like being an older brother.” You twisted your upper half to glance towards the living room then turned back to Steve, “besides…it’s a good look. This whole…” your hands waved around Steve, “paternal instinct. Didn’t know you had this side.”

You leaned your body against the side of your fridge, arms crossed over your chest, one hand toying with your right earlobe. Steve stood directly in front of you, blocking most of your view of everything but him. His hands rested on his hips, a hand quickly sweeping through his thick brown hair. His eyes couldn’t stay put, moving from your face towards the living room where you could hear the kids bickering, and landing back on you. He took a step closer, the space between the two of you closing, just a touch away from the other.

“Hey, um…I just…I just wanted…” Steve was fumbling trying to find his words, his hand that ran through his hair was held in the open space between your bodies.

“I just wanted to apologize, again. For the millionth time.”

Your brows creased, “are you apologizing for the food?” A finger pointed at the floor.

“No, yes, yes it’s one of the things I’m apologizing about. I’ll pay your mom for new food when she gets back or I can go grocery shopping with her or- or you if you wanted-“

“Steve!” You raised your voice to stop his rambling.

Your hands gripped his biceps, the space now gone, only an inch or two between your chest. Your head tilts back, enough to make eye contact with Steve, whose head is tilted forward, chin almost touching his clavicle.

“Steve,” a whisper for the two of you, “what’s going on? Why are you apologizing?”

He worried his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes at your feet. He then grasped your forearms, pulling your hands off his body, but sliding his fingers down until his hands connected with yours. He squeezed your clasped hands, a replacement for slotting your hands together.

“I…I heard some of your conversation…with Jonathan.” He trailed off quietly, nervousness in his tone.

“Oh. Um, I- I’m sorry you had to-“

“No, no. It’s- It’s okay, (Y/n). He’s right…you know, to be hesitant about me. He's a good older brother.” Steve released the hold on your hands, you had to restrain yourself from pulling him back.

Instead, you scratched your head with one hand, “Steve, Jonathan may be right…about things from the past, but he’s not trying to hear your side. He’s being a dick right now.”

Steve took a step back, a crack in your space, “yeah, well, I was a dumbass for all of high school. Friends with Carol and Tommy, feeding into their stupid games, constantly sleeping with girls, then finally settling that down when Nancy came along until that turned into flames.”

“Nancy wasn’t your fault-“

“But it kinda was. I wanted things to be normal, to pretend the past year didn’t happen.”

You wanted to reach a hand out, to touch him, console him, but you held back, choosing to nudge your shoe against his instead. “The past year has been hard on all of us. You can’t blame yourself ‘cause Nancy couldn’t voice her thoughts without liquor. And it’s not her fault either, she lost her friend. She wants justice for Barbara, and that’s understandable.”

“Maybe that’s why she couldn’t love me,” his voice was wet, choking back any tears.

You were quick to quiet those doubts, “no, no. Steve, I’m sure-“

You were cut off from your sentence when a loud commotion from the living room needed your attention, the kids were bickering loudly at each other. Steve left right away, not giving you a chance to give any final statement for your conversation, that’s gonna have to wait for another time.

You walked behind Steve as he pulled the dish towel off his shoulder and held it in his grasp, toying with it. From what you heard as you joined their group, Mike was arguing a bit with Lucas and Max about El and Hopper going back to the lab, worried for their safety- well, El’s safety. Dustin stood off to the side, not butting in with his opinion for once.

“Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?” Steve tried to use his basketball logic in this situation.

It wasn’t the best metaphor. Mike immediately bites back, “Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game. And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“Right. So- so my point is…” Steve stammered then trailed off, all of you waiting for the point, “right, yeah, we’re on the bench. So, uh, there’s nothing we can do.” He threw the towel back over his shoulder in defeat.

“That’s not entirely true.” Dustin rebutted. “I mean, these demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

Lucas started to understand Dustin’s thinking, “so if we can get their attention…”

“Maybe we can draw them from the lab,” Max finished the train of thought.

“Clear a path to the gate,” Mike muttered.

“Yeah, and we all die,” Steve threw his hands out, not liking the idea. You were also a bit against their little plan.

“Look, I know you guys want to help, but I think it’ll be best if we stay here.” You stepped from behind Steve, standing in the clear space between him and Mike.

Lucas and Max looked at each other, Dustin and Steve bickered for a moment, and Mike in his own world stomped off to the kitchen, clearly not hearing you.

“This is where Hopper dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel. So…” he walked off, even one falling a step behind. “Here, right here. This is like a hub. So you got all the tunnel feeding in here.” He stood over a giant spot in the middle of the hallway then fell to his knees on top, “maybe if we set this on fire…”

“Oh, yeah? That’s a no,” Steve immediately cuts Mike off.

Dustin added to Mike’s idea, “the mind flayer would call away his army.”

“They’d all come to stop us,” Lucas finished.

“Guys-“ You were cut off by Mike.

“We circle back to the exit.”

“Guys.” Steve tried his hand, but no dice.

“By the time they realized we’re gone-“

“El would be at the gate.” Max and Mike conspired.

Just as you were about to step in and put an end to this whole plan, Steve clapped loudly and shouted to be heard over their lack of hearing, “Hey. Hey! Hey! This is not happening,” he wagged a finger at the four kids.

“But-“

“No, no, no, no. No buts. I promised I’d- we” a finger between the both of you, “keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what we plan on doing. We’re staying here. On the bench.” The kids rolled their eyes or crossed their arms as Steve continued, “And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?”

A bite of your bottom lip held back a smile, a grin wanting to stretch like a feline. ‘Steve was really attractive when he was authoritative’ but now wasn’t the time to let your horny thoughts roam free. You cleared your throat and shook your head free of any inappropriate ideas creeping into your mind.

“This isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike fought back.

Steve pointed a finger then grabbed the towel off his shoulder, using it to get his point across, “I said does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

The kids didn’t reply and before they could give a verbal yes to Steve, a loud engine outside stole the show. Everyone’s heads turned at the noise, Max ran away from the group and jumped onto the couch, peering out the living room window with Lucas at her side. You rushed behind the two, leaning down to get a peek at this new development, all you saw were headlights and the faint tune of a rock song presumably blasting through the car speakers. A chill snaked up your spine.

“It’s my brother,” Max whispered. “He can’t know I’m here,” She turned to look at you, fear swimming in her eyes, “He’ll kill me,” a glance at Lucas, “he’ll kill us.”

“Ah, okay. Well, first, get away from the window,” you grabbed their shoulders and shoved them away from the open window, hoping Billy didn’t spot them.

You ushered them away, along with Dustin and Mike, and ordered them to stay near the hallway close to the kitchen. Wanting all the kids to be hidden from any wrath Billy would rain down upon them, especially on Max and Lucas. You looked at Steve who was staring at the front door, and you could already hear the gears turning in his brain, a bad idea was about to be born. You rushed to stand before him, blocking the view of the door and having his eyes drawn to you instead.

“Steve,” you whispered as you crept closer, “whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.”

He kept his eyes on you as he rubbed his lips together, mulling your words over, then looked at the door again, “just keep the kids safe.”

He started to walk away and you boldly reached out and held his left wrist in your clammy grasp, heart racing while your eyes glued to the floor, watching the two pairs of shoes. You licked your lips, not sure what you were going to say or why you outright jumped over your boundaries.

“Steve…” your fingers rubbed over the bone and skin, “just- just…”

“Hey,” you watched as his feet turned towards you, an inch of space between the tips. The gentle press of a finger crooked under your chin lifted your head from the floor before making hesitant eye contact with Steve. His brows pinched in the middle, he stared with empathy dripping from the warm brown of his eyes. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise,” hushed whispers only for the two of you to hear and remember.

You weren’t brave enough to say anything back so you only nodded your head in reply before releasing Steve’s wrist and letting him free, heading into the night to hopefully scare off this beast.

The front door closing sounded almost like a gong, a noise reverberating and ringing within your eardrums.

“What…What was that?” Dustin inquired.

You kept your focus on the door, “nothing. Just a friend worried for a friend.”

“Really, cause it looked like-” Whatever Dustin was gonna say next, it was cut off by an abrupt oof, someone shutting him up.

You were fixed to your spot, hands flexing into fists then expanding, a repeated motion to try and calm your heart. You wanted to be beside Steve, wanting to keep him safe from Billy and his fucked up brain. Billy was crazy, you’ve been fortunate to only encounter the gross teen twice, once at the community pool on the last day of summer, a forgotten face, and a second time at school when he tried asking you out. You saw how he was aggressive when he didn’t get his way, how he would start spitting venom into your face, and with just a few mentions of Billy to Max, you knew how she felt about him.

“What are they talking about?” A mutter spread through the living room.

You snapped your attention away from the closed door and turned to the kids who were peering out the living room window, not even trying to keep hidden from curious eyes.

You rushed over and yanked the back of their shirts, dragging them away, “what the hell is wrong with y’all? Do you want to be seen?” “You think they saw?” Lucas asked, a touch of worry seeping his words.

His question was answered by the front door swinging open, Billy making himself present. You stood in front of the four kids, arms stretched across them, a weak cage to protect them from a wild animal. Billy’s wild eyes and crazy smirk made you want to shed your skin, a ghost feeling of his hands wandering over your body, fingers pressing deep into your flesh and leaving bruises in the shape of his hands.

“Well, if it isn’t bitch Byers.” he stepped further into the house, footsteps bouncing off the walls.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Oh, your pussy of a boyfriend…he’s taking a nap. But I’ll happily show you a great time.” He stepped forward, you stepped back.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Billy.”

“Ah, well, I can’t do that, Byers. See, I’ve got to have a conversation with Lucas Sinclair.” His deadly stare slid over your shoulder, presumably where Lucas stood behind you.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max.” His eyes went from Lucas to Max, his voice low.

“Billy, go away,” Max uttered, no waiver to her words

“You disobeyed me. And you know what happens when you disobey me.” He started to get closer with each word, “I break things.”

Billy started to rush forward, a bull in a china shop, and you knew you couldn’t hold him off at this moment. So you tried to push the kids away from him for just a moment, Billy’s hands shoving you off to the side, the force sliding you onto the kitchen floor, shoulder ramming into the legs of one of the chairs.

Only the yells of the kids told you Billy got Lucas, then you saw the hurried steps of Billy’s boots in your field of vision. He shoved Lucas into a cabinet in the corner, his face blocking Lucas, his scuffed shoes an inch from the ground. The low mutters of Billy spitting words directly into Lucas’ stock face, he uselessly shoved at his shoulders to try and free himself.

Quietly, you started to push yourself up, your body twisting so your knees dug into the wood flooring as you were preparing to run into Billy, but you were stopped when arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you away. You were stunned, but it also told you Steve was okay, which was one less thing to worry about tonight. He dragged you away from Billy and set you on your feet in front of the kids, his arms leaving your waist and his hands flying to caress your cheeks, fingers tucking hair behind your ears.

“Watch the kids,” his quiet command.

You didn’t have time to process Steve’s gentle touch, Lucas freed himself from Billy’s grimey grasp and ran back to your group, and you pushed him behind you. Billy was bent at the waist, hands resting on his thighs or over his crotch, you smirked at the karma Lucas handed Billy.

“You are so dead, Sinclair!” Billy roared.

Steve stomped up behind Billy, turning him by the shoulder, “No. You are!”

And he punched Billy square in the jaw.

Billy’s head flew with the force of the swing, his torso twisting and a hand flying to the red spot. Steve stayed in his spot, fanning out his right hand, and watching as Billy crazily cackled before you all. A crazed smile was stretched over his face and a trickle of blood stained a nostril. He was whooping and hollering like this was some stupid, fratboy game to him.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?” Steve ran a quick hand through his hair, “I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about!”

You kept watch of the boys, eyes trained mostly on Billy, waiting to see his next move. He walked closer to Steve, getting close to his face trying to intimate him or some shit, you wanted to move closer but held back. Steve stood his ground, not saying a word. It was like a western showdown, the three of you waiting with bated breath to see who would make the first shot.

You would, “get the fuck out of here, Billy,” with a stern voice. You shocked yourself with how stable it came out, you knew your body was giving a light tremble, and one of the kids' hands settled on your forearm.

Billy’s blue eyes slid off Steve and wormed themselves onto you, his tongue darted out and licked over his bottom lip, you wanted to cut it off.

“You should teach your bitch when to keep her mouth shut. Learn to speak when spoken to.” His eyes never leave yours for a second.

Steve didn’t turn to face you, but you notice the slight turn of his head, knowing he paid attention. His focus was still on Billy, the hand he punched with pushing into the blonde's chest making him lean back an inch, “get out,” you heard the low hiss of Steve’s command.

The air was now charged, you knew the feeling very well, it was charged with anticipation. Everyone waiting for the incoming bomb to explode and destroy everything in its path. You held your breath, hoping it could help in some way even though you knew it never changed the charging bull’s path. In the blink of an eye, everything happened.

Billy swung with his right arm, but Steve ducked in time to save his face and threw a solid hit with his left fist. Billy’s body swung with the force brought to his head, his body falling onto the kitchen table, paper and dishes falling to the floor.

“Yes! Kick his ass, Steve!” “Get him!” The kids were chanting behind you.

You couldn’t speak, only watch the sight before you. Billy started laughing again, but Steve cut him off with another punch to his face, body twisting and slamming into the kitchen counter. “Murder the son of a bitch!” Someone, probably Dustin shouted. Steve landed another blow, and Billy flew into the sink. “Now! Now!” “Get that shithead!” More chanting seemed to only be from Dustin and Mike, Max and Lucas haven’t said a word yet.

There was a pause in the punches, Steve only watching Billy who was grinning like a maniac, Dustin once again yelling in your ear, “Kill the son of a bitch!”

And within those quick seconds, Billy got the upper hand. Grabbing a plate next to the sink and smashing it over Steve’s head, throwing him off balance.

“Steve!” You and Lucas screamed just as Max shouted, “Billy!”

Steve started to stumble away, his back to Billy who was rearing up behind him, “Steve!” You cried out just as Billy grabbed his shoulder and landed a hard punch to his cheek. The force sent Steve stumbling into the living room, Billy throwing things off shelves in his anger field rampage. Billy gripped Steve’s jacket in a tight hold as Steve pushed against his shoulders, trying to create a bit of space between them, but it was useless. Billy pulled Steve a bit closer and growled into his face, “No one tells me what to do!” And he rammed his head into Steve’s, his body sliding on the floor, sending the papers askew. The only noises within the house were the loud and harsh breathing of everyone and the animalistic cries and grunts Billy released, “Woo! Get up!”

He stormed over to Steve, and the sounds of his steps echoed loudly within your ears. All you could do was watch Billy as he twisted Steve to lie on his back as Billy knelt and started throwing punch after punch. Not giving Steve a second to breathe, both fists were flying into his cheeks and jaw, Steve not even making a move to push Billy off. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, Billy’s fist not stopping at any moment, the kids’ shouts and screams telling Steve to get up or yelling at Billy to stop or leave Steve alone, until you couldn’t stand seeing Billy beat Steve for a second longer, even your feet moved sluggishly.

You didn’t fully think it through, but you’ve been in certain situations like this before, with your dad beating Jonathan or stopping him before he could lay a finger on Will or Joyce, your first instinct was to stop the fists. So, when your mind caught up to speed, your feet moved into action and you rushed forward and jumped into Billy’s back, arms tight around his throat. You even used a hand to scratch at his face or pull his tangled knots so he would focus on you instead of Steve, who was laying still as a corpse on the floor, blood and broken skin littering his face.

You tighten your legs around his waist, acting like a koala. Billy stood up and away from Steve, his body twisting and thrashing to throw you off like a mechanical bull, but you’ve done this enough times that you know how to stay on. His claws would grip at your hands or legs, trying to pull you apart, but you would fight back, you even bit his ear hard and yanked at his hair forcing his body to lean back.

“You bitch!” He cried.

“Takes one to know one,” you taunted.

He sneered then suddenly slammed you into a wall, your breath left your lungs at the force. You could hear the kids' yells, but they were silenced with the force of the wall slamming against your spine, your head making hard contact causing stars and dots to spot your vision. Your grip loosened and Billy took that opportunity to flip you off his back and slam you into the flooring, only a foot away from Steve. You gasped, trying to collect any air into your lungs, but nothing was entering.

Billy, doing the same thing he did to Steve earlier, walked over to you and knelt, almost straddling you. A hand was fisted into the cotton material of your shirt, half your body off the floor and leaning towards Billy’s twisted face.

“Should leave the fighting to the men, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face,” a finger caresses your cheek and you flinch away.

“Didn’t know…you were such…a gentleman.” Your words came in breathless increments. “But…you see…I’ve already had… a man put his hands on me. And I… know how… to fight back.”

The feeling came back in one hand so you took the opportunity to fist it into his hair and tug, hard. You pushed yourself up and with both hands on Billy’s head, you slammed your skulls together, knocking Billy to the floor and giving you the upper hand. You scurried over his lap and quickly landed punch after punch, giving him the same treatment he handed to Steve.

The cheers of the kids were white noise, you couldn’t take your eyes off Billy, knowing he’ll get back at you any second. And once his face started to bleed, his cheeks and jaw redding, and your knuckles aching you had to let up a little. Your breathing came in pants and seeing that Billy wasn’t moving at the moment, you looked to the kids. Their eyes were wide, mouths gaped open. Dustin even threw a thumbs-up at you, but the peace didn’t last long.

Billy’s hands shot up and squeezed themselves around your throat. You tried to dig your nails under his fingers, and wiggle your way out, but he had a death grip on you and you’re pretty sure he was gonna kill you. Billy flipped the two of you around, you on the floor and his looming figure crowded around you. A hand reached out around you, trying to find something to knock over his head, but there wasn’t anything and you were terrified.

You could feel the tears welling up along your lash line, scared this is how you die. At the hands of some creep, Billy is probably gonna pounce on Lucas once life drains from your eyes. Your legs were kicking and thrashing, hands once again trying to pry him off.

“Should have let me take you out,” he got closer to your face, “I would have shown you an amazing night, make you forget all about Harrington.” And he stuck his tongue out and licked a stripe on the side of your face, you wanted to throw up.

“Fuck…you,” you choked out while you smushed your hands against his face.

That only spurred him to squeeze harder, your vision going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. Your legs stopped kicking, hands slipping from Billy’s face, your knuckles thud against the wood. And just as you feel ready to pass out, an angel peeks over Billy’s shoulder, green jacket, fiery red hair swaying with the motions, and something small held in a hand diving sharp into Billy’s neck.

His hands left your neck to touch the syringe sticking out his neck and relief floods you. Your mind was dizzy, but at least you weren’t passed out, although you were probably a second away. You turned on your side, one forearm holding your upper body off the floor and a hand was lightly touching your throat, a bruise sure to last about a month, your throat felt like sandpaper, the saliva alleviating a bit of the burn.

You dragged yourself to Steve, he was still lying unconscious on the floor, but his chest was moving up and down, very slowly. You could hear Billy talking to Max, but knew it was safe now, the morphine was dragging him down, and then the loud thud of Billy’s limp body crashed to the floor two steps away from you. Everyone just watched, not saying a word, only Billy laughing again for the fifth time tonight. You watched as Max grabbed Steve’s bat and held it before Billy.

“Max…”

“From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?”

“Screw you,” was Billy’s response.

Max didn’t like the answer, so she swung the bat between Billy’s legs, and you honestly wish it hit a different target. Billy’s head looked at the bat then Max held it back over her shoulder, yelling at him, “Say you understand! Say it! Say it!”

“I understand,” Billy spoke quietly.

“What?” “I understand,” much louder this time. Then he passed out.

You could finally breathe properly, both mentally and physically. With Billy down, you allowed all your focus to be on Steve, your knees rested beside his shoulder, and you gently caressed his face, tilting it to see all the bruises and cuts displayed on it. “Oh, Stevie,” you cooed to no one but yourself. Thumbs and index fingers smoothing over the bumps and dried blood, a finger sliding down his nose trying to find any broken cartilage. You felt brave at this moment, so you leaned forward until your lips met his forehead, it wasn’t anything crazy, just a phantom touch for you to remember.

When you pulled back and away from Steve, you switched your attention to the kids as they were in a group huddle, whispers, and hushed voices scheming together. You walked to the group and that’s when they stopped talking, forced smiles, and bugged-eyed looks.

“What’s going on?” You huffed out, hands flying to your hips.

No one answered, only glanced at each other, “guys, just tell me. I’m not in the mood for games.”

Dustin stepped forward, “We’re going to the tunnels.” A statement.

“No.”

“(Y/n), either you come with us, or we’re going without you and comatose.” Max held a pair of keys between her fingers.

“Where’d you get those?”

“Billy.”

You thought it over. You knew they were going to do their plan no matter what you chose and if you were there you could keep them safe, but you didn’t want to leave Steve behind. Also, you weren’t sure about Billy, but you would rather be gone when he eventually wakes up.

“Fine, we’ll go,” you relented, “but, we’re taking Steve. So help me carry him to the car.”

…

“Max, for the love of god, please drive straight!”

“Well if Lucas could give me the directions a few minutes earlier that would be great!”

“I’m trying here, okay!”

For the last fifteen minutes, Max had been swerving and going probably thirty over the speed limit, rushing to get to the tunnels, but also giving you a heart attack in the process. You could have driven, you should have driven, but you couldn’t make yourself. Not when Steve had still been unconscious the entire car ride so far, you were starting to become heavily worried for him, especially since he should have been rushed to a hospital, but you didn’t want to split up. So you slipped into the cramped backseat of the Camaro with Dustin and Mike squished to one side with Steve’s feet resting in their laps and you were on the other side with his head resting in yours, hands keeping a firm hold to stop him from getting whiplash. Your eyes switch from frazzled at the state of Max driving to glancing at your lap and being frazzled with Steve’s eye’s not opening for almost an hour. Hands nonstop running through his wind-swept hair to delicate touches over the colorful band-aids Dustin grabbed from his backpack and taped over a cut on his brow and one near his chin. The ice pack you grabbed from the freezer on the way out was slowly defrosting, water droplets trailing down Steve’s forehead and running down the side of his face, landing with a quiet splat on his jacket shoulder.

You turned away from Steve and back to Lucas and Max in the front, Max looking ahead of her, only turning to Lucas for a couple of seconds when he was quiet. Lucas had his head buried in the giant map that was splayed across his lap, a finger trailed along a marked path, hopefully, the one leading to the tunnel. Your attention was dragged away when you felt movement against your thighs and it made your heart race.

Looking down at the head on your thighs, Steve was barely turning his head to the sides. You moved the ice pack to the floor and placed your hands on both sides of his face, not wanting him to hurt his neck or worsen the state he was already in. As you peered down you took notice of Steve’s eyes opened slowly, his lashes sticking together before peeling enough for him to see Mike, or at least someone else with the name that leaves his chapped lips.

“Nancy?”

Mike turned his head at Steve and pulled a face, one you would have chuckled at if your heart didn’t give a squeeze. Choosing to ignore the pang, you cleared your throat and leaned your head into Steve’s field of vision. Loose strands hung free and tickled his face, he tried to reach out but grunted in pain at the small stretch. You pushed his arm to rest on his stomach, hands staying on his face, wanting to soothe any pain he might have.

“Stevie, how are you feeling?” You let the old nickname slip, but he didn’t comment.

“Hurt,” was his only response.

“You put up a good fight.” Dustin stealing the attention, “He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight. (Y/n) made sure he didn’t kill you, pretty badass of her.”

“Jumped on his back, threw punches, and kicked him in the dick. She’s my new role model,” Max piped up from the front, turning to look back at you for a second.

“Eyes on the road, please,” you pleaded.

“What?” Steve moaned. He tried moving his arms again, a new target in mind.

His clammy touch reached your knuckles, pads on fingers tracing over the broken and red skin.

“(Y/n)...” He trailed off, another voice stepping in before he formed his thoughts.

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for a half mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” Lucas directed Max, a steady grip on the wheel and going at a slower speed.

Steve became more conscious, he directed his attention to the front seat, probably noting the two tweens then looking back at you, “what’s going on?” He was confused, understandably confused.

He tried sitting up, but you kept a firm pressure on his shoulders holding him down. Dustin tried calming him down, “Steve, it’s alright. She’s driven before,” but that was followed by Mike’s sarcastic, “yeah, in a parking lot. (Y/n)‘s the one who insisted on her.”

“I can’t see things at night. I need glasses,” you defended yourself.

Steve started to panic, he was mumbling to himself, cries of “oh god” repeated over and over. His hands trying to grasp at something, trying to pull his body forward, but you could see the flicker of pain over his face at the actions. You took it upon yourself to hold him down or against you, both giving the same result in this predicament.

“Stevie…”

“They wanted to leave you behind, but (Y/n) and I were insistent.”

“Oh my god.”

“Dude, you have to calm down,” Dustin was of no help.

“Dustin, how about you stop talking!” You quipped back.

Your back and forth with Dustin didn’t help calm Steve down, and when Max decided to get a lead foot with the gas causing the car to shoot up in speed, it only caused him to freak out even more.

“Oh god! Oh god! Stop the car! Stop the car!” He repeated.

“Max! Slow down!” You cried to the redhead, still keeping a firm grip on Steve’s thrashing body.

“I told you he’d freak out,” Mike’s annoying voice piped up.

“Everybody shut up!” Max yelled, “I’m trying to focus!” Everyone but Steve shut their mouths, he continued his cry of “oh god”.

“Oh, wait, that’s Mount Sinai. Make a left!” Lucas stated.

“What?”

“Make a left!” He repeated.

His late directions caused Max to swerve into a mailbox before she hit the gas and hit a hard left, everyone shifting in their seats and screaming bloody murder. You would have laughed at the high pitch scream from Lucas, but you were too focused on Steve who was grasping at your knees while you kept a hand to the window for support.

“Max, if we want to save Will, you have to drive straight and slower!”

…

Max’s driving only got worse once she hit the giant pumpkin sign home to Mr. Merrill's farm, stopping hard before swan-diving directly into the giant hole where the tunnels lead beneath. You swear you almost slid off the leather bench and face-planted into the headrest of the passenger's seat at the harsh braking.

Once she turned the engine off, all the kids tumbled their way out of the car, leaving you and Steve alone.

“You okay?” You whispered, even if it was just the two of you.

Steve started to sit up away from your body, the grunts and quiet whimpers giving you the real answer before Steve lied and said, “I’m fine,” and then he toppled out the side door. You huffed at his stubbornness before following behind. You took notice of the kids collecting all the items they stuffed into the trunk, goggles, scarves, rope, gasoline, it was like they were military men who’d been through this before.

“Guys,” Steve called to them.

You just watched as they continued with their task, ignoring Steve as he called for their attention.

“Steve,” you stood in front of him, his back against the car holding him up.

Your hands rested against his cheeks, fingers once again tracing over his battle scars. Someone within you tonight chose to fully run from the lines you drew in the sand, maybe it was seeing how close Jonathan was acting with Nancy, maybe because you and Steve seemed a bit closer, or maybe because you saw Billy beat the crap out of Steve and you were scared out of your mind. Or you just wanted to make sure he was safe and comforted, who knows really?

“He did a number on you, Stevie,” the nickname slipped again.

Steve huffed, you stopped your motions, thumbs pressing into the clean skin of his cheeks while your pinkies sat under his ears.

“What?”

“I just…I haven’t heard that name for so long.” The kids were long forgotten between the both of you.

“Oh, uh, sorry. It- It just slipped.” You dropped your hands.

Steve caught your wrist, pulling your hands to his face, thumbs grazing over the dried blood, “you shouldn’t have fought Billy, he’s a psycho.”

He dropped your hands between your bodies, eyes focusing on you and only you. You wanted to tell him, wanted to get it through his thick skull that you would do anything to make sure he was safe. That you would go through hell and back if it kept him from getting bruises on his face or a broken nose. You wished you could show him what you want to say, wish you could smother his bruised face in delicate kisses, hoping every press of your lips could soothe any of the aches bothering him at this moment.

But you couldn’t do any of those, so you chose a simpler option, “Steve, I’ve dealt with worse before. I know how to handle shitty people.” Your voice tapered off, and a flash of your dad hitting you crossed your eyes.

“Hey,” a pull of your hands.

Steve was staring at you with deep intensity, it made you release a quiet gasp and it caused your heart to pick up speed, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever again. Not if I can help it.”

You tried to keep your face calm, not wanting to show him how much that statement, that promise, meant to you, “And I promise to keep you from harm and to always clean your wounds.”

“Are you two saying your vows? Kinda early, isn’t it?” A high-pitched voice broke the bubble.

You immediately stepped away from Steve, missing the warmth on your wrist already. You cleared your throat and looked at the tween before you, snorkeling goggles snug over his eyes and nose, a thanksgiving table napkin tied around his throat, and finally, a pair of old garden gloves covering his hands and his backpack straps sat on his shoulders.

“We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear.” Steve turned away from you and faced the boy, with a stern tone of voice.

Dustin just rolled his eyes, “yeah that was before you passed out, then (Y/n) was in charge and she’s fine with it.”

“Okay, I didn’t say I was fine with it. I just know you four idiots were gonna do this either way and it would be safer if I came with you.”

“(Y/n), we’re doing this for Will.” Dustin reminded you.

Your harsh demeanor slipped when he reminded you, “yeah, I know. I just don’t like heading directly into danger. I did that last year and it wasn’t fun.”

“I also did that last year and I kicked ass with a bat,” Steve reminded the two of you.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know beforehand. I made the concise choice days in advance, which means I’m an idiot.”

“That doesn’t make you-”

“Guys!” Dustin shouted, “I don’t care about whatever you’re talking about. Right now we are about to jump into an underground tunnel to save Will. And the both of you promised to keep us safe,” he shoved the backpack out to Steve, the bat’s handle sticking out, “so keep up safe.”

…

It’s like you fell down Alice’s rabbit hole into Wonderland, but a darker, much more twisted version.

All the kids headed down before you and Steve, Dustin the last of them to join. You and Steve shared a look, both of you having goggles protecting your eyes and a bandana tied around your neck. You hated this, you wish you were back home right now, but you tried to push the anxiety away. Right now Will needs you, and you need to burn this out of him so El could permanently close the gate.

“I’ll head down first,” Steve decided for the both of you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine.” He tugged the red bandana to cover his nose and mouth before heading down below.

‘It’ll be fine’ ‘Everything is going to work out’ You had to repeat to yourself like a mantra.

“(Y/n)!” You peered below and saw Steve looking up at you, his arms stretched up.

With a few quick shakes to your hands and head, you slipped your scarf over your nose and gripped the rope tightly. When it was only your head above the tunnel, you felt hands gripping your waist, your shirt lifting a bit at the touch. You loosened your death grip on the rope when you knew Steve had a secure grasp on you, your back slightly sliding down his front.

‘Of course, when some shit goes down Steve and I manage to get more touchy’ ‘It’s not fair’

“You okay?” A breathy whisper in your ear.

You hope the shiver that ran through your body wasn’t visible, “yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” You looked around at the environment surrounding you, it’s like you were inside the digestive system, which didn’t help with your thinking much, “holy shit.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way.” Mike was on the right side of the tunnel.

“You’re pretty sure, or certain?” Dustin argued.

“I’m one hundred percent sure. Just follow me and you’ll know.”

Steve stopped him before he could leave, “whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, I don’t think so.”

Mike turned to him, “what?”

Steve stood in front of him, a flashlight shining in his eyes, “any of you shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?”

“Well, what about (Y/n)?”

“She’s more responsible than me, so all blame is going to be pointed my way. From here on out, I’m leading the way, and (Y/n) will be at the back.” You didn’t want to be at the back but didn’t protest. “Come on, let’s go.” Steve took the makeshift map and led the way.

…

‘I hate this I hate this I hate this I’

“(Y/n)?”

You almost tripped over one of the many roots that were sticking out of the ground, Dustin’s hands helping keep you upright. You allowed yourself a second to stop and just breathe, even though that wasn’t the best option with the spores floating through the air.

“Are you okay?” Dustin stuck to your side.

You wanted to lie, say you were fine and hoped it comforted the boy in any way, but you couldn’t. “Not really, but once we’re out of here, I’ll be better.” You continued your speed walking.

Steve kept a quick stride, his longer legs helping while you and the kids struggled a bit, your legs got tired quickly but you just pushed through. The sooner this is done, you can all haul ass out of here and be free from demo dogs. Soon you were brought to a new area, a giant open area where multiple tunnels snaked out from and a light fog settled at the floor.

“What is this place?” You could hear Max's question.

“Guys, come on. Keep moving,” Steve commanded.

The other three followed behind like baby ducks following their mother. You stepped around Dustin as he was looking around the place and you didn’t want to fall behind and get lost, but when he stopped completely you turned around and took notice that he was looking at something above him.

“Dustin!”

Then something sprayed directly into his face causing him to scream and wave his arms about, “Shit! Shit!” He fell to the ground before you rushed over to him to assess any damage done to him.

“Dustin! Dustin!” You could hear the others making their way back toward the two of you.

“Dustin, tell me if you’re hurt,” but he was just spasming on the ground.

“What happened?” Steve knelt beside you, looking between you and Dustin.

“I don’t-”

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!” He pulled the napkin away and was coughing.

Five pairs of torches were pointed at Dustin, his heaving slowing down before he stopped and looked at your group, “I’m okay.”

“Are you serious?” “Very funny, man” “Nice. Very nice.” “Jesus, what an idiot.” They all grumbled before leaving you and Dustin.

“Dustin, you sure you’re okay?” A hand rubbed over his shoulder.

He huffed a few times, “yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

You nodded your head, stood up, and held a hand out for him to take.

“Byers, Henderson, let’s go!” Steve shouted from ahead.

…

“All right, Wheeler. I think we found your hub.”

“Drench it.”

The kids got to work on soaking as many square inches of the space, top to bottom, every side, and tunnel opening. Lucas had an old weed sprayer, filled with gasoline and covered the walls and ceiling. Max, Mike, and Dustin spread their containers of fluid on the ground and the nest that was resting in the middle of the space. You and Steve stood back and kept watch for any movement that could be a demo dog.

Once they were out of fluid and the room smelled like twenty gas stations, the kids ran behind you and Steve. Steve held the lighter in his hand and looked over his shoulder at the four of you.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” “Ready.” “Ready.” “Let’s get this over with,” you muttered.

“Light her up,” Dustin confirmed to Steve.

“I’m in such deep shit.” Steve panted before flicking the lighter and throwing it.

Roots and vines started to thrash in the flames. You threw your arms over your face to ward off any heat, but it was no use. You started to push the kids to start running back to the rope, Steve grasping your hand in turn as he pulled the both of you away.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” You muttered, or Dustin, or Steve, or everyone was thinking the same thing at this moment.

Steve had to release his hold on you to look back at the map to guide everyone, you stayed near the back as he went to the front, light slicing through the muddy dark. In everyone’s hast to leave, you almost didn’t register the noise of Mike tripping or screaming for help. You turned back to him and tried to use your hands, hoping it might loosen enough for him to slip free.

“Steve! Help!” You cried for the boy.

“Hold on!”

“Steve, pull him out!” Dustin demanded as he grabbed Mike’s arms.

“Move! Move!” You heard him shouting as he rushed over.

You jumped away from the root wrapped around Mike’s ankle and watched as Steve threw the bat down, hard. Then again, and one more time before it slithered away and Mike scrambled away. Steve held the bat low, his chest huffing with the energy he just used, a hand running through the wild strands.

‘I think I’m in love’ You stared with your mouth agape.

“(Y/n), come on.” Steve pulled you up with your hands intertwined.

When you turned around to continue your hasty leave, a low growling stopped everyone, and blocking your trail, a demo dog snarled at your group. Steve pushed you behind him and held the bat high, ready to swing at any moment. You grasp the back of Steve’s jacket lightly, both in fear and not wanting him to walk toward it.

But it was Dustin who started forward, a hand reached out for him but missed, “Dustin!” You hissed at the boy.

Everyone else joined in low mutters and hisses, trying to stop Dustin in his tracks. He just shushed everyone and continued his slow steps, the demo dog copying his movements and getting closer to him.

You could hear the quiet words he spoke to the creature, “Hey. It’s me, it’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin.” He knelt to level with it, like an adult talking with a child. He continued to talk to it with hushed whispers, then it flared its mouth, its floured head and rows of teeth on display. Everyone jumped, and you clutched Steve’s jacket a bit tighter.

“Dustin! Please!” You once again try to reason with him.

He just held a hand out, a stopping gesture. He resumed talking, then took his backpack off and pulled something out, holding it up. It might have been a candy bar, he always carried some type of food in his backpack. He dropped it to the floor then he waved behind him at your group to walk through the tunnel. One by one everyone tiptoed past the demo dog, it seemed consumed with the candy which you were thankful for. As you were the last one past, Dustin gathered his bag and then joined your group, saying goodbye to the beast.

…

An earthquake threw everyone off their feet.

“What was that?”

“Just go! Go!” Pushing the kids forward, then you hear it.

The loud thundering of growling and feet of a stamped.

“Run! Run!” Mike cried.

One more tunnel straight then a final left turn brought you back to the hanging rope, ready to bring you to safety above ground. Steve stood under the rope and helped Max up first. Then, once she was above ground, it was Lucas’ turn. Once Lucas was free, Mike was next and you could hear the growls getting louder, closer.

“Dustin, come on,” you made a hand basket for a foot to boost him higher.

With your extra boost along with Steve’s help, Dustin was safely above the tunnels when you heard the thundering paws heading in your direction.

“(Y/n)! Come on, go!”

“Steve, I barely passed gym, I can’t do pull-ups!”

You ignored the exasperated huff that escaped Steve’s throat, instead mentally preparing yourself for death. But the tugging of Steve’s arm wrapping around your waist and pushing you behind him as he raised the bat, took over instead. The roars and growls were getting louder by the second, almost drowning out the kid's cries for the two of you, but you could still hear their desperate pleas.

“Steve…” you pressed your front directly against his toned back, arms looping tight around his waist.

You felt him stiffen, but held your position, “Steve…if we don’t-”

“We’re gonna be alright, (Y/n),” one hand dropped to caress your forearms.

You absorbed his words, deciding to not continue your mindless ramble. You just held him tight and shoved your face just below his shoulder blades, the sounds of the demo dogs running towards you sounded like a waterfall directly in your ears. You waited for the screams, the blinding hot white pain, the trickles of blood seeping from your wounds, or having your bones bend and snap, but none of that happened.

You didn’t dare move your face or open your eyes until the noise died down, and all you could hear and feel was you and Steve, your chests heaving and gasping in loud pants. Your tight grasp slipped, Steve twisting to face you, his free hands jumping to your cheek.

“You okay?” You could almost feel his breath on your face from how close he stood before you.

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded your head as confirmation.

“Love birds!” You jerked your head up, the kids all staring down, “let’s go!”

…

“Steve, I don’t think you should be driving.”

“I’m not letting Max behind the wheel of a car until she has a permit.”

“We were in a rush!”

Once you and Steve were out of the tunnels, finally a moment of peace for the day, the headlights of Billy’s Camaro blazed to life, blinding everyone. You thought nothing of it at the moment, but once when dimmed back to normal, you realized it was Eleven. She had closed the gate, Will was freed from the mind flayer, and you could use a nap right now. So everyone tumbled into the small car, you and Steve now in the front with the kids in the back, their grumbles falling on deaf ears.

“Do y’all want to stay at my house? Honestly, it would be so much easier.” You twisted to face the four tired kids.

They just nodded and mumbled their acceptance of the invitation before dozing off. Max leaning on Lucas’ shoulder, Dustin and Mike knocked their heads against each other, neither making a move to change to a more comfortable position.

“You think Billy’s still there?” Steve whispered.

“For his sake, I hope not,” you grumbled as you slumped in the passenger seat.

…

The house was quiet, but the lights were still on. You and Steve gently shook the kids awake, the heels of their palms digging into their eyes or running the back of their hands against their mouths to wipe away drool from the thirty-minute ride back. You didn’t lock the door on your way out, so Dustin was the first to enter with kids in tow, then you, then Steve.

“Where’s Billy?” Max muttered, hands rubbing at her eyes.

“I don’t know, nor do I care right now,” was your answer, which she took perfectly fine. “Boys why don’t you sleep in Will’s room, you can maybe all fit on his bed. Max, you can sleep in my room with me, if you want.”

Everyone accepted the sleeping arrangements, the boys decided to get the sleeping bags that they keep when they stay over. Their feet drag on the floor, high-pitched noises following until the two doors close, leaving you and Steve in the living room.

“Is it…Can I-”

“Steve, I will tie you to a bed so you can get some rest. But first, I have to clean you up.” You tugged him behind you with a grasp on his wrist.

The harsh yellow lighting of the small bathroom caused your eyes to squint, needing a moment for the light throbbing against your temple to dim. You dragged Steve to sit on the toilet, hands dropping to his lap as you moved to the sink storage, pulling out the dusting first-aid kit. There hasn’t been a need to use it in serious emergencies for about three years, it was still well stocked from the last time Joyce refilled it.

You grabbed some cotton balls and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, saturating them enough before standing before him, “this is gonna sting, so…you can hold me if you need to.” You leaned in, left hand sitting at the juncture of his jaw and neck while your right hand with the cotton balls dapped quickly and gently at a wound on his brow.

Steve’s hands shot up and gripped your hips, tight. His hissing filled the quiet night along with your soft mumbled apologies, one right after another, he would hiss and you would apologize. You made quick work of the many bruises, the one on his eyebrow, his forehead, and a bit of his cheek. And you’ve already gone through four cotton balls that have dyed red.

“Steve…can you- can you open your legs?” You flushed at the sentence. Even Steve threw an arched eyebrow at you, “I- I need to get closer.”

He chuckled at your stutters, spread his legs wider, and with the help of the hands at your hips, he tugged you closer. Stomach close to his face, he could press himself into you, or dig his chin into the doughy flesh and stare up at you, which would cause the butterflies to erupt. You had to ignore the thunder of your heartbeats, hand moving to hold his cheek as you started on his nose bridge.

His eyes were closed tight, brows creasing in the middle from the pain the liquid was causing him. His fingers dug into your jeans, but his pointer and thumb found their way under your shirt and pressed into your flesh. As you changed out the dirty cotton ball for a new one, Steve’s eyes opened and peered up at you, while your hands moved from his cheek to a firm grip on his chin.

“I’m pretty sure Billy was a boxer in a past life.” Thumb tugging his bottom lip.

“Eh well-” you pulled away for Steve to speak, “I haven’t been brushing up my fighting skills.”

You scuffed, “you should cause no offense, but Jonathan whooped your ass last time,” you chuckled a bit at the distant memory.

“Hey, come on!” His hands kneaded at your hips.

The bathroom was filled with your gentle laughs, a moment in time when everything is good. You finished cleaning Steve’s wounds and placing bandaids over them. The trash was filled with dirty cotton balls and the plastic paper from the bandaids. You didn’t step away from Steve’s hold, hands continued to caress his scraped face, thumbs running over the beige coverings. Fingers ran through the sides of his hair, his eyes closing at the scraping of your short nails over his scalp, he looked like he could purr at any moment.

“Our knight is Levi jeans,” you muttered.

The moment broke a minute later, having to pull yourself away from Steve before you allowed yourself to be consumed by him. You shuffled around the space, doing some quick cleaning before you headed to bed, also wanting to distance yourself from Steve. He felt like a magnet to you, something that you couldn’t help but be drawn towards.

“(Y/n)...” the air shifted.

You kept your eyes on the first-aid kit, fingers toying with the bandaids. It wasn’t until Steve’s hand grasped your chin and turned your head to face him you forced yourself to make eye contact, even for a second. His hands changed positions, and his palms cradled your cheeks, holding you as if you were a piece of priceless china in his mother’s cabinet. You saw his eyes glance to your neck, you couldn’t see it, but your throat did feel tight and sore. A dark bruise in the shape of Billy’s hands, something to last for almost a month, a constant reminder.

But you didn’t want Steve to focus on that right now, it was over anyway. With your pointer finger on his chin you tilted his head up, eyes moving away from your scarred throat to now gaze into your piercing eyes. And it was like you almost saw something click in his mind, eyes lighting up.

“(Y/n)...I-” Steve licked his lips, eyes darting over your face, “I- You are…fuck it.”

His hands pulled your face in, lips crashing into each other. It wasn’t anything crazy, just the hard pressing of your lips against the others, maybe one of you waiting to see who would make the next move. Steve took the leap, but would you continue this bliss or pull away before it could go further? You had this split-second choice to make and you made the selfish one.

Arms moving on their own accord, they copied Steve’s position, hands caressing his cheeks with rings and pinkie fingers resting along his jaw. A tilt of your head allows for the kiss to move further, lips moving into a rhyme. It was intoxicating, the feel of Steve’s lips, the strong smell of him mixed with his fading cologne, the strands of hair parting through the fingers that sneaked their way up, the nose that left Steve’s mouth at the firm tug on his hair. He drove you crazy, his tongue snaking into your mouth fully caused your mind to shut down, all your thoughts were of Steve.

‘Steve Steve Steve Ste-’

The abrupt shove of your hands against his shoulders cut the mood. Steve stumbled back with a step or two, your own body moving to the door, needing as much space between your bodies. A hand danced to your lips, tingling with the sensation of Steve, your cheeks aflame with his lingering touch.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry,” Steve took a step closer, but you put a hand out to stop him, “I thought…I just thought that-” “Steve, I’m gonna say this once, so please don’t talk.”

You waited for a confirmation he understood, a quick nod of his head and you shakily released a breath, “Steve. I have lov-liked you since eighth grade.” You caught yourself before you actually said it.

You paused, wanting to see if he’ll react to this statement. The only visible sign was his eyes widening.

You looked at your twisting hands, not brave for this conversation, “Well, actually I liked you in fifth grade, but I didn’t understand what I was feeling at the time. Not until I noticed kids our age kissing, holding hands, and sharing smiles did I realize. I wanted to do all that with you, I wanted to make you laugh so I could see you smile, and not one of those fake smiles you threw to your friend group or the teachers. The one that pulled your lips wide, laugh lines creasing in ecstasy. And when I was able to do that one time during Mrs. Smith’s English class, I knew for sure.”

You glanced at Steve, he sat on the toilet lid, face in his hands with his elbows digging into his thighs. You wished to walk over to him, but both of you need the space to breathe and think clearly in this situation.

Steve lifted his head, eyes boring into yours. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” His voice was a whisper.

A scuff escaped, “Steve, we weren’t even in the same orbit until last year. And mind you, you and Nancy were dating. I wasn’t going to embarrass myself just so you could reject me.” Arms crossed over your chest.

Steve immediately stood up, “Nancy and I broke up.”

“Yeah, official, like today. I don’t see where you’re getting at.”

A step forward, “I had a crush on you,” another step, “But I never did anything ‘cause I knew my parents would reprimand me if they found out I was hanging out with you and the other kids were being dicks when they noticed I looked your way for too long.”

You just stared, “when I got to high school I tried to get those feelings to go away. I would go out with girls, sleep with them, or dance with them at parties. Anything to get you off my mind, the glimpses of you in the hall, your tired face wanting to fall asleep during one of Mr. Jones’ lectures, or the quick turning of your head before I looked your way. You lived inside my brain for the longest time and I thought it was gonna stay that way forever until Nancy came along.”

“Okay, ouch.”

His hands stretched out, “just- just listen, please.” You stayed quiet.

“Nancy and I had this thing going for a while after she started to tutor me. Notes in lockers, meetups from prying eyes, sly looks, and comments in the halls. She was the first girl who started to pull my attention away from you, and fuck, it made me a bit happy.”

That quick exhale stabbed your heart, but you tried to show no reaction, you probably failed.

“When I saw you in the halls, my heart didn’t race as much, my gaze wouldn’t stray your way as often. I thought I was finally moving on, leaving my childhood crush behind and going for a girl who was within reach and reciprocating the feelings I was showing, but then Will disappeared. When Will disappeared you reappeared in my mind, and the dull thudding of my heart sped up when you were around, my eyes wandered to you if you were in the same room. But I was still happy with Nancy, I liked being with Nancy.”

He got closer during his ramble, the wide gap was now only a few steps separating the both of you.

“Steve…”

“But as the year went on, she was distancing herself. Got lost in her head, upset when I suggested being dumb teenagers for Halloween night. And Halloween, that night in itself is a mess.”

“Steve, please, just stop.”

He got closer, “(Y/n) I’m trying to tell you I’ve always had feelings for you, it’s just now that I’m acting on them.”

“Steve, you're being mean. Stop it.” “What?” “Stop it.”

The sting in your eyes alerted you of the incoming tears, “Steve, I’ve been seen as some type of freak almost my whole life, by some of the town folk, fellow students, and my dad. I knew I could never have you and it hurt every time I reminded myself, but I accepted it. But you telling me that Nancy, Nancy Wheeler, one of the most perfect girls in this town, helped you move on from me, it’s the worst pain imaginable. I didn’t want to know that, I’m already criticizing myself against Nancy in my mind. You’re making me feel like a replacement for her.” “But I do want you, I’ve always wanted you.” He pleaded, hands reaching for your hands.

“Steve-” you let him take your hands, hoping they’ll help him understand the words coming from your mouth, “Steve, I want to be with you, I’ve been dreaming, waiting for this moment. But if you’re choosing to finally do this just ‘cause you’re free from Nancy, I don’t want it.” You slipped your hands-free.

“I know you’re still in love with Nancy, who wouldn’t be, she’s the girl next door. And I heard you the day after Halloween, I heard you begging her to say it back. Just cause you officially broke up today doesn’t mean shit. The both of you need proper closure, she left with Jonathan for two days and comes back close with him. And we’ve been crossing lines as well, and I hold myself accountable for some of it. But what I’m trying to say is,” hands grasping his cheeks to hold his attention, “I will not be your second choice.”

“But you’ve always been my first,” his hands circled your wrist.

“Not in my eyes.” You slipped free, “When you have your shit together, Steve, we’ll see.”

You rushed out of the bathroom when the final word slipped from your lips, not wanting Steve to see you crying over him.

…

November was once again, shitty. Well, it was peaceful with the Upside Down sealed off for good, but it was personally shitty for you.

Work felt suffocating, knowing Bob won’t be coming anytime soon. The lab faked Bob’s death, some bullshit about a car accident just outside the city limits. It made your blood boil, you wanted to scream and point your finger directly at them, yell at the top of your lungs and tell all of Hawkins, “Bob died because of this stupid fucking lab! He saved my family and friends from being eaten alive! He didn’t die in some fucking accident!” But you couldn't, no one outside your circle would believe you and you knew the lab could make you disappear one day, gone off the face of the earth.

There was a small funeral for him, not many people showed up, and you were a bit disappointed at the turnout. You and Joyce were at the front, both of you stone-faced and flushed from the cold wind biting your cheeks and noses. Jonathan didn’t join and neither did Will. You understood with Will, he was still recovering from the scare Nancy gave him to push the mind flayer out of him, but Jonathan…you were just peeved at his absence. Hopper was there, giving comfort to the both of you, squeezing your shoulders or pulling you into hugs when your body shook with tears.

You hated funerals.

…

You couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving break.

School days felt like they lasted a decade, moving too slowly for your liking. You kept your head down in the halls and during class, not wanting to meet Steve’s eyes or even Nancy’s. Running the other way if you saw even a glimpse of Billy or his ratty hair walking through the halls. He knew you could handle yourself, but you didn’t want to be around him either way, wanting to be as distant as humanly possible.

Eddie and Robin were worried about you, your behavior was a bit more abnormal than usual, but you couldn’t tell them everything so you picked certain details, including…

“Steve told you what?!”

You flinched at the loud cries of Robin and Eddie, both of them sharing baffled expressions. You peeked around the library, catching the turning of heads at the noise, and cringing inward at the look Mrs. Gray was throwing at you. Eddie and Robin didn’t seem to care that they broke the one rule of the library, too busy exchanging looks with each other.

“Can you please not draw attention our way?” You pleaded.

Robin shook her head with her hands hovering in front of her, “whatever. Steve told you-” “That he’s always liked you?” Eddie cut her off, a furrow on his brow.

Just a shrug was your reply. You changed the story a bit when you recounted your weekend.

“Steve came to my house Saturday night, bruised to hell, telling me he wanted to talk. So I let him in and helped clean his face since it seemed he wasn’t in a rush to see a doctor, insistent on whatever he had to tell me. As I cleaned his cuts, I got closer, standing between his legs and holding his face and in turn, he held my hips and squeezed when the pain hit.”

“Hot,” Eddie voiced, all you gave was a deadpan glare.

“Anyway, when I was done, we just stood there. Barely space between us, hands touching each other and just gazing into the other's eyes, and then…it happened. Steve pulled me forward and we kissed, and it lasted for maybe two minutes before I pushed him away.”

“Why? Aren’t you happy he kissed you?” Robin interrogated.

“I’m getting to that.” You just wanted to get this over with, “He started on this ramble, well, actually I told him I liked him, but then he went on his ramble. How he liked me in middle school as well, but he held back because of his parents and the kids making fun of him. Said he started hooking up with girls just to get me off his mind, and then he said Nancy was the first girl to get me off his mind.” A crack broke the sentence.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Robin rubbed a hand along your upper arm.

“Uh, and then it just got a bit messy with our conversation from there, but that’s pretty much the gist of it. But at the end he said…”

You haven’t spoken to Steve for about two weeks now. Anytime you saw him in the halls, either walking your way or you leaning against the lockers near yours, you would turn on your heel and run the other way. If you were in his presence for even a second, you would break. You so badly wanted to hear him out, finally get the boy you’ve always dreamed about, but you needed more time. You told him to get his shit together and get closure between him and Nancy before he made a proper decision, but honestly, you need to talk with Nancy as well. Seeing her with Jonathan, the two being happy, it messed with you a bit.

“I hate people in love,” you grumbled.

“Me too,” Robin and Eddie spoke, voices intertwining

…

“What are you doing here?”

“Here to talk with Nancy, dingbat.”

You ignored the eye roll from Mike and made your way to Nancy’s room, stopping to say hello to Mrs. Wheeler and Holly. You were nervous but knew this was closure you also needed. Needed to hear the words directly from Nancy’s mouth, and see the sincerity on her face, it would make you feel better about the idea of being with Steve.

With gentle knuckles knocking on her door, you heard her faint voice call for you. You peeked your head in before stepping all the way in and closing the door behind you, slow steps towards her bed. You haven’t been up here since last year, after the woods incident, and you felt a bit uneasy.

Nancy looked up from the homework that was spread around her, tangled curls pinned back by clips and her shining face was on full display. The pang was back in your heart, “She was the first girl who started to pull my attention away from you, and fuck, it made me a bit happy” the sting hit your eyes and you could feel the clog forming in your throat.

“You okay?” Nancy’s sweet voice stopped the sentence from repeating.

You wrung your hands together, eyes falling to the floor and watching your sneakers toe into the carpet, “uh, not really,” you spoke honestly.

You heard the shuffling of the bed, “what’s wrong?” Then you heard her backtrack a bit, “did- did you have Bob’s funeral yet?”

“Yeah, a week and a half ago.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence, “when’s Barb’s?”

“First Saturday of December.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. You knew you were the one to ask Nancy if you could talk, but you fully want to run back home at this moment.

“(Y/n)...why are you really here?” Her voice was gentle.

You chewed at your bottom lip for a moment, “I…I wanted to talk…about Steve.” You whispered his name like a curse.

“Ah.” That was all she said in response, you snapped your head up.

“Ah? Why ah?”

The smirk toying at her lips nerved you a bit, it suddenly felt like a setup, “Steve wanted to talk a few days ago.”

Your eyes widen, “he did?”

She nodded her head with a closed-lipped smile, you eyed her with curiosity as she patted the space beside her, an invitation to you. The mattress sunk with your added weight, one leg bent in front of you while the other rested on the floor. You and Nancy faced each other, homework and textbooks being the only border.

“Steve likes you, you know that, right?”

A simple nod, “He told me. And I told him I liked him.”

You saw the shrug of her shoulders, “okay, that’s good. But why do both of you seem so mopey?”

You just gave her a look, hoping you didn’t have to say it aloud verbally. You knew she was smart enough to get the reason why both you and Steve wanted to talk with her. You just stared at her a little harder, and you saw the moment it clicked in her mind, a lightbulb going off.

“Oh. Well…what- what do I have-” “Nancy, Steve loved you. He cared for you, and you…” you trailed off, not wanting to accuse Nancy of anything from their relationship.

“I wasn’t very fair in our relationship, I understand that now. And I did like Steve, so much, but I don’t think I ever loved him, or at least not the way he loved me. For a while it was fine, but slowly, I- I just… something changed. And I wanted to get justice for Barb and her parents, Steve wanted to pretend last year didn’t exist and I just couldn’t do that.” You could see the hurt within her eyes, “And when Jonathan was helping me, it felt right. It felt like that missing piece was finally found and completed the picture I was looking for.” A smile.

“Don’t you feel a little… I don’t know, guilty? Or something? You just fled Hawkins, gone for two days then came back, you and Jonathan seemingly closer. Were you and Steve even broken up when you left?” You hated to burst her bubble, but you had to know.

“No, I don’t. Cause I did something to stop the lab, but yes, I do feel a bit guilty about Steve. We got into that fight before I left, I should have at least talked with him or something. But, (Y/n)-” Nancy reached for your hands and held them, “I saw the passing glances, some from you and some from Steve. I saw the wanting in your eyes, the longing for him. And I’m telling you as a friend, Steve is a good guy, he’s grown since last year.”

“I know.” And you do, you’ve seen it first hand, the personal growth Steve’s gone through in the past year.

“So I hope you think about it when I tell you to go for it. When Steve goes to you, hear him out, process his words, and if you want, accept him with open arms and a giant smile. I want to see you happy, you deserve it, both of you.”

…

The Snowball dance didn’t start until eight, so by five is when everyone started to get ready. Will hopped into the shower while Jonathan and Joyce made a quick dinner for everyone since there was only gonna be punch and snacks at the dance. When Will was out of the shower and Jonathan ate half his meal, he took his turn in the bathroom and cleaned up.

Around six-thirty, there was a loud knocking on the front door and you already knew who it was. With sock-covered feet, you shuffled across the wood flooring and opened the door with a welcoming smile.

“You excited?” You questioned the young girl.

She had a beaming smile, cheeks pushing into her eyes. Curly hair waiting to be tamed by water and gel, her dress and shoes in her hands.

“She’s been bouncing ‘round the cabin for the past hour,” Hopper sounded both happy for her and exhausted for himself.

You ushered them in, Hopper heading to the kitchen as you walked Eleven to your room. The both of you passed the boy's rooms, both wearing their pants for the night and a simple tank over their chest. Each gave a wave in greeting to El, her returning the gesture before you pulled her along.

“Okay, just place your dress on the bed and shoes on the floor. I’m gonna do your hair first so we gotta head to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

She giggled every time water would splash back on her or you, in awe at the change caused to her hair, “I’m going for that slicked-back look you had when you came back.”

“Bitchin’.” It’s her new favorite word to show excitement.

With her new hairstyle, and only an hour until everyone needs to leave, you started on the simple makeup she wanted. You knew Hopper might have a fit if he saw her wearing heavy makeup and also you knew she didn’t need full coverage, just some eyeshadow and blush.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” you murmured as you swept the light purple shadow over El’s closed lids.

Her eyes opened and they were shining, filled with joy and love. You wanted to wrap her up and keep her away from all the bad in the world, already having been through so much at a young age. But she was safe now, everyone was safe now, no need to worry about the worst anymore.

Eleven reached her smaller hand for your larger one, pinkie wrapping around yours. You were a bit confused but she flashed a smile and said in her quiet voice, “sisters.”

…

Eleven and Hopper left about thirty minutes ago, wanting to have their own time with each other and giving your family private time as well. Hopper hugged you and whispered a thank you into your messy hair, and you dropped a kiss on El’s forehead. You and Joyce sat in the living room waiting for Jonathan and Will, giving the boys their brother time.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Joyce asked for the third time that night.

“Mom, you’re just gonna drop them off then come home. I’m fine with staying behind.” A hand rested on her knee.

It looked like she was preparing to say something, maybe convince you to just go on the short ride, but was stopped and looked over your shoulder. You followed her eye line and saw Jonathan and Will, both dressed nicely and standing awkwardly.

“Well, don’t you both look handsome.” Joyce beamed at her boys.

“Didn’t know you could clean up,” you teased them, Jonathan just rolled his eyes.

Joyce fused with Will’s sweater vest a bit, pinching and lightly tugging. Making sure his tie was neat and straight, fingers toying with his bowl cut.

“Oh! (Y/n), can you get the camera thing, the one that records.”

“It’s called a video camera, mom. It’s right in the name,” you reminded her as you left the living room.

You kept Bob’s video camera that he gave you to use on Halloween. He trusted you with it and it felt wrong to just bring it to the store or give it away, so this small piece of him is kept in your room on your desk. You made sure it was charged and there was a tape then trudged back to the living room, Joyce and Jonathan swaying to an invisible tune. You immediately started to record, wanting to get evidence of this blissful moment between your family. Once Jonathan got tired, Will stepped in, his arms stretched to reach Joyce’s shoulders, which wasn’t far; there were only a few inches between their heights.

Jonathan started to tug the giant camera from your grasp, “what are yo-”

“Go dance with Will. He could use some practice.” And he rested the viewfinder against his right eye.

You just rolled your eyes but stepped up to the dancing pair. With a quick tap to Will’s shoulder, he turned his head towards you. And wanting to add more to this little display, you rested an arm behind your back with the other stretched before you, waist bent at a small angle.

“William Byers, may I have this dance?”

…

It had been about two hours since everyone left for the dance, you staying behind in your fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. A Charlie Brown Christmas was playing on the TV, the volume faint as you threw some cookie dough into the oven and heated some hot chocolate on the stove. You were planning to stay up until everyone came home, school dances usually end around ten or eleven.

There was a sudden knocking against the front door just as you shut the stove off. You tensed at the abrupt noise, not expecting anyone to show up, but also worried it might be someone who’s been on your mind for the past week. You tip-toed to the door, wanting to be as quiet as possible to see if there will be another knock or if the person would just leave.

Another round of knocks made you jump a bit and as you trekked closer you heard the person speak, very faint, “(Y/n)! It’s Steve!”

Your eyes widen involuntarily, feet stopping you just behind the door. Your fingers twisted the sleeves of your hoodie into their tight grasp, you were holding back from opening the door. You knew Steve was gonna eventually talk to you again, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Maybe another month or two before this confrontation.

“(Y/n), please! I need to talk to you…also, I think I’m getting frostbite.”

Not even a second later you swing the door open, eyes staring him down before ushering him inside the warm home. He was only wearing a red sweater and his Levi’s, ‘he looks so handsome, so cozy’, but you could see the shake of his shoulders, his hands furiously rubbing together as if he was twisting a stick to start a campfire.

“I thought you ran hot, Steve.” You stayed near the door.

He huffed, “I do, but I was out there for five minutes before I knocked.”

You ignored the quick thump of your heart, “why are you here, Steve?”

“You know why.” He took two steps closer.

“Steve…”

“Please,” he reached for your hands, “please, just hear me out. You can throw me out when I’m done, okay? Just…please.” He sounded like a little kid, it broke your heart.

Your fingers squeezed his hand as a physical ‘okay’ before you said the actual word aloud. You pulled Steve with you as you headed back to the kitchen, cookies smelling like they were done and your hot chocolate was slowly cooling already. A turn of the oven knob allowed for the cookies to rest in the dying heat.

“I made some hot chocolate, you want some?” You were stalling.

“Uh, sure, that sounds good.” Steve stood by the small kitchen table.

You had to push up on your toes to reach further into the cupboard, a hand pushed to the counter for extra leverage. As you were getting nowhere and ready to just climb for your mugs, a hand pressed against your lower back, a leg lightly nudging into yours.

“I got it,” his voice was low, and a shiver ran across your body.

You moved out of the way so he could use both hands when he dragged two matching mugs from the back, both covered in a floral print. You made quick work of filling the cups, dropping some marshmallows into yours, none for Steve and topping them with some whipped cream.

“(Y/n)-”

“I heard you drove Dustin to the dance tonight.”

“Yeah- yeah, he’s a… he’s a good kid.” He let a smile peek. You indulged in the sight.

“Okay, I’m ready.” You sounded like you just told Steve to slap you. And by the look on his face, showed how confused he became.

“What?” “Tell me why you’re here.”

He sat straighter when you clarified the topic change, hand pushing his mug away before twining them together and resting on the table. His fingers rubbed together, specifically his thumbs. His eyes weren’t on you, focused on the table or his hands, anything that wasn’t you it seemed. You understood the need to look away when talking about something like this. He licked his lips and then spoke, just one sentence.

“I like you.”

You wanted to state the obvious, ‘you already told me’ but you settled with a simple, “I- I like you too.” Well, not simple to you, but you felt that Steve needed to hear you say it again after this past month.

He instantly lifted his head, puppy dog eyes pulling you in along with the dazzled smile showing off his dimples. The urge to lunge forward and pull him into your arms grew in strength, so you sipped your drink, eyes away from Steve.

“I know the last time we talked wasn't great. Well, it was great for about two minutes before it went to hell.”

“Steve…” You did also enjoy those two minutes.

“And for good reason, I fully know that. So, I’ve been getting my shit together, your words. I’ve talked with Nancy and told her how I felt about our relationship and how she hurt me as well as how I hurt her. I even talked with Jonathan.”

You raised your brows at that, he didn’t mention anything to you about Steve. Tomorrow you’ll have to question him about it. You nodded for Steve to continue, choosing to leave your input until he was done talking.

“I told him I liked you, wanted to be in a relationship with you. He was against it, completely understanding him, but I made sure to tell him how much you meant to me. I wasn’t- I’m not trying to use you as a rebound or replacement for Nancy.” He moved to the seat beside you, hands reaching for you across the table, but you didn’t take them, not yet.

“Nancy and I had a good time in our relationship, it might’ve been short-lived, but it was nice. She helped me mature and leave King Steve behind, realizing I could be more than a high school douchebag. And when you slowly became a part of my life, I wanted to be the best version of myself. You deserve the best, (Y/n), and I showed you my affections at a low point.” You had to interrupt him, “Steve, just from the past year alone, I’ve seen you grow so much. And every day, I so badly wanted to tell you how much I liked you, wishing I could be with you. But I would see you smiling with Nancy, the two of you whispering in each other's ears, giggling at whatever. Your arm draped over her shoulder, her hand holding yours. It killed me, piece by piece, every time I saw the two of you together. I wanted to walk into the shadows and disappear. But the two of you were my friends, so I stuck it out, and sometimes when it was too much I would cry. And I hated that I was crying over you, I should never cry over a stupid boy.”

“Ouch,” you sent a glare, “sorry, continue.”

“But I wasn’t just crying over you, I was crying cause of the way you looked at Nancy when she wasn’t paying attention, the way you were constantly touching her in some way, the smiles she pulled from you. I was crying 'cause I knew I could never be Nancy Wheeler.”

You were getting a bit choked up, telling Steve these personal things that no one else has heard, only the loud voices screaming in your mind. The voices telling you no one wants you, the yells of your dad screaming at you as a child, spitting in your face about how worthless you are. The snarky comments heard from the hall and during class from students who gossip because they want to make others feel bad to uplift their self-esteem.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, fingers cradling your jaw.

He moved his chair closer, knees almost touching, “I don’t want you to be Nancy, I like you 'cause you’re (Y/n) Byers. I like how tough you are, how you stick up for your family and don’t take shit from people.” His fingers swiped along your cheeks, “I love how you treat those kids as if they were your own family, how smart you are whether it’s school smart or comic smart, even if I don’t get half the references you make.” A wet chuckle slipped through, “you are the most beautiful girl I’ve had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

“I bet you say that to every girl,” you teased, but he didn’t exactly deny it, only countered with, “but I mean it, every syllable.”

You moved your hands off your lap to circle his wrist, not wanting him to move away. Thumbs rubbing against skin, yours against his wrist and his along your cheeks, wiping any fallen tears. The air felt thick, a tension growing, waiting for the time to come before it snapped. Both of you aired things out, not everything, but it at least helped both of you see where the other was coming from. But you knew that if you were to get in a relationship, there was gonna be more talks like this in the future, and that was something you were okay with.

“I really like you, and I want to show you the love you deserve every single day that we’re together. I want to see the good and the ugly, the beautiful and monstrous sides of you, and I’ll show you mine. I want to kiss your face at every chance I get, I want to wake up next to you when we spend the night together. I want all of you, (Y/n) Byers.”

Your lips were twitching at the corners the whole time Steve was talking, letting each word seep into your skin and brain, wanting to remember this moment. The crease between his brows to the intense look that’s peering into your heart, the feeling of his palm, how the pads of his fingers rub against your skin and peach fuzz. Counting every freckle dotting his face and neck, holding back from kissing every single one in your line of sight. How he’s rubbing his pink lips together, tongue darting out and wetting them like he’s preparing for a kiss.

“Steve,” your hands left his wrist and held his jaw, pulling him in closer to you, “I just wanna be yours. And I want you to be mine.”

You saw the smile, “I’ve been yours since you pushed Sharon Halloway, baby.”

You crushed your lips together, not wanting to wait for another second. It was just a pressing of your lips, finally satisfying the craving you’ve been having for weeks. When Steve tilted his head, it allowed for the kiss to become more, what started as a ruff push became a slow dance between waiting lovers. Your lips getting used to the feeling of each other, learning a new dance that will become muscle memory in due time, tongues toying together. Hands holding the others face close, tight, scared they might vanish into thin air, a dream so realistic that the very scent of Steve’s cologne will linger. Fingers move to thick strands of hair, nails scraping at the scalp pulling a purr from Steve’s throat that you happily drink up.

When you started to feel dizzy, your head going fuzzy, you pulled again. You stayed close, noses touching, breathing mingling, eyelashes kissing. When you leaned further back, wanting to fully take in Steve, he chased you, lips seeking for more, needing more.

“Baby,” the word made your stomach flip.

“Oh, I’m baby now.” You squealed when Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, both of you sharing one chair.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, sloppy kisses lining from where your ear meets your jaw to the edge of your hoodie. With just a tilt you gave him all the access he wanted, hands happily playing in his hair, giving light tugs, ones you’ve been dreaming of.

“Stevie,” you all but sighed, his kisses leaving you even dizzier.

“Oh, I’m Stevie now,” he pulled away to tilt his chin up at you.

A hand tucked some hair behind his ear, the ends curling in, “you can call me all the pet names you want, and I’ll call you Stevie all I want.”

“Might need to negotiate that one.” His eyes squinted.

“Steven.”

“Nope, Stevie is fine. Love Stevie, especially from you.”

You just rolled your eyes at him before going in for seconds, thirds, and fourths. Steve Harrington was finally yours, and you can kiss him freely until the day you die. Now that’s not a bad way to go out.

You were so wrapped up in kissing Steve you didn’t check the time, or even hear the car pulling up outside, not even the front door opening. None of that registered in your lavender-hazed brain, not until a very loud voice caused you to jump away from Steve.

“Mom! (Y/n)’s making out with Steve!”

Will faced you and Steve, both of you flushed and lips kiss bitten. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“I need to bleach my eyes.” Will groaned.

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

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Today’s is a little shorter but I think you’ll all forgive me as we dive into… The Inevitable Rogue Attack 😈

It fucking kills me how many people are almost sympathising with Vlad but want Bruce to catch fire, y’all are giving me life and don’t worry, Bruce will not be getting away with his crimes

First:

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The Inevitable Rogue Attack

His kids were rioting. There were giggles, muffled screams, Steph was drumming her hands on the table hard enough to shake the place settings.

And Jason… Jason.

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do as Jason made his way back down to his seat, passing behind all three Amity Parkers to get there.

He’d hoped… well. He hoped Jason had understood his meaning. He hadn’t expected the boy to blanche like that, and he’d worried for a second that he’d misjudged.

But no, the smile Jason gave him on the stage was real. Bruce knew every detail of his son’s face, had worked doubly hard to be able to read those expressions when Jason had come back unfamiliar and grown.

There was something he’d missed. Obviously.

But he didn’t know what. Didn’t know what he had expected Jason to do, now that it came down to it. Bruce hadn’t said what he did thinking about Jason’s response.

He didn’t need him to respond at all, he just… he wanted Jason to know he cared. To be sure that Bruce loved him. That Bruce wanted him back.

That he would never be sorry enough for how his mistakes had cost Jason everything. Surely promising that before so many witnesses, so many people would show he meant it?

They’d need to talk. They would always need to talk. And perhaps Jason would talk to Alfred too, and Bruce could ask what he’d done wrong.

He hadn’t expected Jason to fall sobbing into his arms. But the way he’d paled, Bruce’s stomach had dropped like a stone.

Was it really such a surprise to hear him say sorry? Such a shock? Had he failed that much?

Making his way back to his own table, he let his gaze drift from Jason and land on the Manson girl. He was a little surprised to find that she was staring straight back at him, despite the chaos at her table.

Shouldn’t she be focused on Jason? He had just rather publicly expressed his affections, even if he’d been circumspect.

Bruce would have thought she was watching him for his response to that, except that he’d seen Damian look at dogfight ring owners with a warmer expression.

Even as their eyes met, he saw her hand scrabbling side ways, snatching at cutlery and then Danny grabbed it and wrestled it back to the table.

She’d grabbed a knife. He’d have been satisfied in his assessments of her being correct, but who the fuck was Jason hanging out with?

He made it back to his seat, looked over, and she was still watching him. Narrow purple eyes tracking him like she was waiting to pounce.

He’d been stared at at every gala since he was a child.

He’d stared down villains planning to cube him with lasers, while tied to their tables.

Samantha Manson was activating his bat senses. No wonder Jason liked her so much.

Perhaps the Mansons hadn’t been exaggerating the situation… but that still left the question of Danny. The “very important” relationship that Jason claimed was helping the pit.

Danny was supposedly here as Sam’s date too. Could it be an open relationship? Or had Sam and Jason not yet realised he was involved with them both?

Selina’s intel suggested the former, but Bruce would have to observe them more closely to determine which it was. And then there was Tucker Foley…

Tucker had been spending more time with Tim than the other three. Bruce would be relying on him for a debrief later, and his impressions of Masters.

The rest of his children had clearly met Danny as well, and he wished he could have taken at least one of them aside for a report before dinner.

As it was, he likely wouldn’t be able to talk to them until they got home. Perhaps Damian might be persuaded to take a brief break from the rest of the room…

Though his youngest did hate to miss the action. Especially if he perceived something important to be going on, and from the set of his shoulders, he did.

His tension did absolutely nothing to soothe Bruce’s own worries. Nor did reminding himself that Damian may be upset by almost anything.

Damian may still struggle socially, but he was perceptive and excellent at threat assessing. If he was tense, there was a reason.

He was so focused on his childrens’ table that he didn’t even notice Selina on her phone beside him.

Jason slipped back into his seat, feeling much better than he had leaving it. Who knew that getting a little fuckery in would settle him so much?

Well, anyone who’d met him. But other than that.

Dick leaned in before his ass hit the chair, both arms outstretched as if to cradle Jason in them.

“You fucking madlad,” he gasped, eyes bright with laughter and Jason rolled his eyes, grinning even as he slapped Dick’s hands away.

“What, it’s not like you’ve not done worse,” he said off handedly, settling himself in.

Steph was still drumming on the table, finishing up an epic solo by snatching up her knife and tinging it off her glass.

“And that’s the new high to beat on Bruce’s blood pressure chart, ladies and gentlemen, likely possible only through grand larceny!” She declared emphatically, tossing her knife back down.

And apparently inspiring Sam, whose eyes narrowed, still tracking Bruce as she grabbed at the table beside her. Danny, already on guard, leaned away a little.

“Sam, what are you… no Sam no!” He snatched at her arm just as she grabbed his steak knife, pulling it back to the table.

Steph’s brows rose, Dick leaned back a little, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“You can’t stab a man at a gala, Damian’s already tried,” Tim put in with a slightly nervous chuckle.

They all seemed to think she’d go for it. Jason, only knowing her slightly longer, was completely sure she’d go for it.

He let his hand fall to cover hers and Danny’s too, squeezing softly. He kinda appreciated having a friend who’d kill for him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but if Bruce dies tonight Tim inherits a lot more paperwork and he already doesn’t sleep,” he said casually, and Sam’s gaze snapped back to him.

Her eyes narrowed further for a moment and then she huffed, dropping the knife and sinking back in her seat. And still glaring at Bruce over at his table.

“It doesn’t have to be a lethal stabbing,” she pointed out coolly, glaring at her own utensils. Vegetarian options did not usually require steak knives.

A happy coincidence that it kept the sharp knives away from Damian too, really. He had switched from glaring at Danny to glaring at Sam assessingly.

Whatever conclusions he drew, they didn’t come before the waiters arrived, hot food still under cloches.

The table fell quiet for a moment as plates were handed out, and then food inspected. The dining room filled with the clink of cutlery and muted conversation.

Jason’s little stunt was definitely still causing ripples, and he felt a definite self satisfaction grow through him. Fuck Bruce and his surprises.

It was Tucker who brought the conversation back, clearing his throat while the others focused on food.

“So, Sam… on a scale from 0 to public proposals, where does Jason’s little kiss stand?” He asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows from his spot a whole Danny away.

Sam’s glare indicated that might not be far enough. Then she snickered and returned to her plate.

“Zero. We planned to fuck with their heads and we both know what it means, right Jason?” She asked, cocking a brow at the taller man.

Jason shrugged cheerfully, enjoying the way every siblings’ eyes narrowed at her lack of specificity. They weren’t off the fuckery list yet, knowing about Val or not.

“Exactly. Glad you agree though, I wasn’t sure if I should apologise. We didn’t exactly talk about that,” he added when she made a small questioning noise.

Sam shrugged, waving her decidedly blunt knife with mild disdain.

“You’re good. We’re on the same page, I don’t give a shit what anyone here thinks, and it’s gonna make the big explosion all the better.” She sounded distinctly satisfied with this turn of events, so Tucker raised his hands, surrendering.

Dick chuckled softly, shaking his head and digging into his food.

“Not to defend Bruce, but I don’t think he’s emotionally intelligent enough to try and corner Jason into a response,” he pointed out cheerfully and Jason snorted a laugh.

Which became a full laugh when Sam didn’t even glance over.

“Cop opinion, nobody asked.”

Dick pouted and Steph laughed at him, leaning in to continue either the conversation or the bullying. Jason wasn’t quite sure which, because Cass captured his attention with a gentle hand on his arm.

Glancing her way, she gave him a soft smile and signed,

‘Are you okay?’

And yeah. Without the pit’s biting green haze, Jason was a massive fucking sap, apparently. Or Bruce had shaken him more than he thought.

He managed a smile that wasn’t too shaky, signing quickly back.

‘I’m good.’ Not that he need bother, since Cass looked entirely unconvinced.

She didn’t call him on it though, slipping her hand into his and squeezing gently. And that was one of his favourite things about Cass.

Like most of the bats, she never really talked about shit, but in her case? It was often because she didn’t need to. She understood without needing him to find the right words.

Maybe that was why the whole ghost-emotional-language thing wasn’t freaking him out the way it probably should.

Maybe Cass was also part ghost. She’d died before.

And that was something he’d have to ask Danny about. He’d mentioned a “ghost sense” that he and Vlad could use to find each other.

Jason’s almost certainly wasn’t fully developed, just like his core, because to hear Danny tell it he could detect any ghost within a city block. Sometimes further.

Jason’d felt Vlad’s proximity like a chill down his spine right before he walked up so there was definitely something there. Hopefully it’d get stronger with time.

He’d rather have some actual warning before a threat got close, although now that he thought about it…

It had taken until tonight for Jason to really understand that the sense of peace which had washed over him at the graveyard and the coffee shop had been directly caused by Danny’s presence.

That had come long before Danny had been in eyeshot, both times. Maybe tonight Danny’s presence had overwhelmed him, masking Vlad until it was too late?

Or Danny’s was just that much bigger. Either way, Jason wasn’t fully sure it was the same sensation. Part of the same sense.

Vlad’s presence was an icy oil sliming down his back, but Danny’s was all warmth and peace. Could that make sense for a guy with an ice core? Or was there something else?

Part of it was the way the pit quieted, there was still an almost euphoric bliss that came with the lack of bubbling rage. In not being constantly at war inside his head.

Being able to fucking hear himself think. Fuck, the fact that it still felt like a luxury was damn depressing. The idea that one day it might be his normal again…

But it hadn’t been long enough since he’d seen Danny to just be that tonight. The pit had been building, but he’d spent the afternoon hanging out with Frostbite’s plant.

It had been ignorable. As normal as he’d been in the last year. And he’d still felt that warm rush as Danny came down the stairs. The second he saw him things fell into place.

That was probably the ghost sense. And maybe a bit of what Clockwork had told him about being the Fright Knight.

The ghost had said he’d always know if Danny was in danger, so it made sense that being able to see Danny and know he wasn’t in danger would feel good. He was doing his duty.

Definitely all that was.

By the time he’d tuned back into the main conversation, they’d moved back to the inevitable rogue attack. Currently? Betting on who it’d be.

“I could go for a Riddler attack,” Steph mused, waving a forkful of potatoes vaguely. “At least he’d know some riddles to keep us busy til the bats arrive.”

“Yeah, cause he totally cares about entertaining his hostages,” Tim snickered and shook his head. “Riddler’s on the run. Red Robin and Nightwing caught him shipping something explosive into the city. WE did the tech analysis,” he added for their guests.

None of whom looked surprised, which was interesting. Tucker seemed interested, but not concerned.

“Oh, did you get to have a look? I’m not much of a hardware guy beyond this beauty,” he said with a loving look to his PDA, then back to Tim.

Who shrugged.

“Personally? No, but I okayed the lab time and bumped them on the priority list. Some of them were a little close to one of our offices.”

“Risks of working in Gotham,” Dick agreed with a sigh, and this time he even filled in the next part himself, “despite if not because of the presence of the police.” He raised his glass to the table.

Steph and Cass cheered, Cass silently, and even Sam snickered. Cass took the next step though, shifting a little back up the curve of the table so they could all see her hands again.

‘Have not seen Poison Ivy in a while. Never met her.’

Sam sighed at that, raising her glass with a dry smile.

“And you won’t, at least tonight. If there was even a small chance she’d be in Gotham, I wouldn’t be,” she added to the Wayne brood, all of whom looked curious.

Jason could guess.

“Are your folks particularly worried about her?” Dick asked, glancing around for the older Mansons. Sam snorted a laugh but let Danny answer.

“Worried that given half a chance Sam will run away and join her. They’re both what you’d call “aggressive environmentalists”,” he added with air quotes.

Tim cocked a brow, grinning.

“That’s a funny way of spelling “ecoterrorists”,” he pointed out lightly, leaning in. “So how do they know she won’t come? She was in Gotham last I heard.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. None too close to their table; Jason had made it a condition that they not be near enough to talk to any others.

Then she leaned in, the entire table following suit. Danny and Tucker seemed equally curious, which was interesting.

“I’m not supposed to know this, and you can’t tell anyone, alright?” She hissed, and the Gothamites nodded along like each and every one of them weren’t about to run the Mansons down for supervillain connections.

Jason tried not to smirk.

Sam met each of their eyes, then continued, her voice low.

“So Tuck, Danny and I knew Vlad was coming to Gotham. I ran an Ivy check to see if my parents would let me come too, so we could keep an eye on him. And my grandma caught me.”

Tucker and Danny leaned back like this explained everything, eyes wide. Steph leaned in further, half out of her chair.

“What did she do?” She whispered.

Sam grinned.

“She recognised her. She was an activist herself when she was younger, really big on the environmental scene…”

“Ida Manson?” Damian asked sharply, head snapping up. Of course he’d know the most about the old environmentalist circles.

Sam looked mildly surprised but nodded.

“That’s her. She was an “anonymous donor” to Ivy a couple different times and obviously she knows about my parents. So she sent her two hundred grand and schematics to a construction company’s HQ that are bulldozing the Amazon.”

“Are your family all connected to supervillains?” Tim asked, fighting a smile. Sam cocked a brow at him.

“Other than being millionaires? Not really beyond voting for Vlad. Mom and Dad are big in the whole “respectability” thing, they wanna keep the family name as clean as possible.”

“And they don’t get much chance in Amity Park,” Tucker added with a snicker, “our villains aren’t really the kind you can buy.”

Sam hummed an affirmation and Danny made a face. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely into what had happened in Amity Park, but Jason figured it was inevitable.

About time Batman found out what he’d been missing.

All of his siblings looked thoroughly confused now, but Dick voiced the question.

“You guys have villains in Amity Park? More than just Vlad?” He asked carefully, sounding every inch the concerned civilian.

Sam rolled her eyes and laughed, setting down her cutlery.

“Not anymore,” she said dryly, reaching for her drink and raising it in a mock toast. Tucker and Danny copied, clinking their glasses together.

This did not illuminate the others. Or Jason, honestly. He’d seen the database, knew the basics, and knew that with Danny as the next Ghost King, his rogues were out of the picture.

He’d figured out that those dud calls from Amity Park? Never actually duds.

Danny had never asked if he knew about any of them as Robin, from that overlapping year between their deaths. Jason still wasn’t sure what to say if it came up again.

He took part in a confused look exchange with Tim, Dick, and Steph, shrugging to indicate that this really wasn’t something he was already in on. Half true.

Damian broke the short silence this time, glowering at all three.

“What villains are you speaking of? And what happened to them?” He asked curtly, his tone easily carrying his disbelief.

Jason’s eyes moved automatically to Sam, but it was Tucker who fielded this one with a casual shrug.

“Ghosts. We got a portal to the Ghost Zone, lot of ghosts decided they wanted to try and take down the town, and one became our local hero to stop the rest,” he explained like he was talking about mildly unseasonal weather.

Tim suddenly looked much less enamoured with his new bestie. Much more wary and confused.

“You… you’re kidding, right?” He asked half hopefully, and yeah, that woulda been Jason’s response a week ago too.

Today, he snickered and waved a two finger salute at his brother.

“Bud. Sat at a table with a literal zombie,” he added when Tim’s head snapped around. “This is so far from the weirdest shit you’ve heard.”

Tim coloured and huffed, puffing up in his seat.

“Yeah, but seriously Jason? Ghosts? Trying to take over an entire town? Someone must have heard something!”

“We sure tried telling them,” Danny agreed cheerfully, clearing his plate with untroubled enthusiasm. “The town got sucked fully into the Ghost Zone once, we only survived because my family made ghost shields.”

It wasn’t just Tim now, half the table looked utterly poleaxed. The only bat not blankly gaping was Cass, when Jason glanced back at her. And slowly, so did the others.

Cass was watching Danny thoughtfully, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit. Then she gave a small nod.

‘Truth,’ she agreed, and Tim exploded.

“What? No way! A whole American city can’t just pop off the map and not be noticed! Someone would have to know?” He sputtered.

Tucker gave him a sympathetic pat on the hand.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. The federal government invented a whole new department just to keep news from getting out. They’re pretty good too,” he added with a grimace.

Tim gaped at him. Dick, suddenly all business, leaned in with a frown.

“A secret government department dedicated to hiding ghosts?” He asked, and yeah, Jason remembered this from the database.

Seemed that with Cass’s clear, Dick was gonna take this seriously. That was… a little refreshing.

Sam gave him a scathing once over, but clearly decided that bullying hours were on hold.

“They’re technically called the Ghost Investigation Ward. Don’t google it or some extremely unpleasant men in white suits will come along to ask why.”

“If we can’t google it, how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Steph asked, her demeanour equally serious.

The three Amity Parkers exchanged thoughtful looks, then Tucker shrugged and scooted his PDA down the table.

“You can look it up on mine. I’ve cracked their systems before, they can’t backhack me,” he explained when Tim nearly jumped on the device.

A small smile broke through Dick’s serious face as Tim got to work, Steph leaning in.

“Seriously, I know I’m only a cop in Bludhaven, but you guys really like admitting to federal crimes,” he said lightly, driving a steep wedge into the rising tension.

Jason snickered along with Danny and Tucker, nodding to Tim.

“You say, like Tim isn’t probably committing the actual same crime two seats down,” he remarked and Dick actually grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, if he wants to borrow my handcuffs he can just ask, but the work ones aren’t for fun stuff.”

Tim flipped him off without looking as Tucker choked, suddenly very interested in his mostly empty plate. Then Tim looked up, expression grave.

“He’s not kidding. They’re syphoning a ton of federal funding, most of it into Amity Park,” he declared and Tucker leaned in to swipe at the screen.

“Non-Amity Park IPs can’t access any of our weather or news stations either,” he explained casually, like they weren’t uncovering a major scandal.

But then, Jason reminded himself, no one had done anything about this for around six years. Why would that change now?

Steph snagged the PDA this time, scrolling down a couple times then stopping to frown at Danny.

“Why does the weather station have something called Fenton Watch?” She asked and Danny groaned, cheeks flushing.

“Thaaaaat reports if my parents are gonna be on the roads… their bad driving is kinda legendary?” He offered sheepishly as Tucker snickered.

“It’s for the definitely-not-street-legal tank I told you about,” he added for Tim alone.

Before any of the others could jump on that juicy sentence a slender hand landed on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well don’t you all seem to be having fun?” Selina purred, smiling down at the table before leaning in. “I just thought I’d drop by and let you know, darling, I’ve already texted Aunt Harley about Bruce’s little stunt.”

She dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Jason’s head, which was fucking weird but… in a good way, patted his shoulder and moved on.

How the fuck had the pit ever convinced Jason that no one cared about him? Although to be fair, there had been a lot less open affection when people still thought he’d shoot them.

It was just a revelation every time, finally getting to look at these litte gestures, these people as just himself. Less bitter, less angry, less certain it was a lie or a trap.

Part of him didn’t want to lose the way it sent soft curls of affection through all the places anger used to burn. Didn’t want to take any of this for granted.

It had been so, so long since he’d felt like he was actually loved. Before his death even. Fuck, it was something he hadn’t had for most of his life.

It was completely different from just knowing.

He’d known Alfred loved him. Known Dick cared, the way he’d thrown himself headlong into bringing Jason home, no matter how many times he nearly got shot.

Knew Cass and Duke both cared without even the shadow of his death between them. But actually feeling it, warm and golden in his chest?

He hadn’t made it easy for any of them. Had fought against even wanting it for so long, sure he didn’t deserve it. Sure he couldn’t have it, so wanting it would only break him.

But here it was. Even Selina standing up to fight his corner, by using Harley as a weapon if needed.

Harley was probably banned by the Geneva Convention so he wouldn’t hold it against her to keep her own claws clean.

He just. His family cared. Even if all that was hurt was his feelings. That was enough for them to even go against Bruce.

(And fuck he knew how stupid that thought was, each new generation of Robins seemed more likely than the last to call B on his shit.

Damian might be slightly less likely than Steph to say the words “go fuck yourself” but he got the sentiment across.

Jason had called B to task plenty of times when he was being an ass to one of them. It just hit different when it was the other way round.)

Dick and Steph were back on their gleeful bullshit, grinning broadly at Jason even as he had his little moment. He wasn’t even gonna look at the rest of the table.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Steph sang happily, dancing in her seat and beaming across the hall at Bruce.

Sam frowned and looked around the table, the full complement of Waynes all grinning broadly bar one. Damian still mostly looked annoyed by the whole affair.

Which was basically how he smiled anyway.

“Wait, did she just say Harley? Like Harley Quinn?” She asked and yeah, oops, they did have a lot to catch each other up on.

Not today though.

“Pretty sure she’s Harley like the motorcycle,” Tim explained off handedly, shooting his own grin in Bruce’s direction, “you’re never allowed to tell her I said it but she’s a little too old to be called Harley like Harley Quinn.”

Didn’t exactly answer the question, but sounded enough like an answer that it seemed to pass. Jason was a little impressed.

“The effect will be about the same though,” Dick added with a snicker, arm cocked on the back of his chair to grin across at Bruce.

Fuck, had the old man been staring at them this whole time? Delightful. Jason very deliberately Did Not look over, finishing his own meal.

The rest of dinner was more reserved, the bats taking Selina’s intervention as a sign to let the heavy stuff drop. Might as well wait until they could do some more research.

The Amity Parkers followed suit and Cass settled, enjoying the time with her family. Teasing Dick, laughing with Steph, and Jason.

She could still see the tension in him, the same as Jason had always had, for as long as she’d known him. Could almost feel the pieces of him that twanged with every move.

She had never seen him seem so… free. He’d been getting better, letting her and Duke and Steph persuade them he was still family. That he was wanted.

It had made parts of the tension worse, and he’d carried himself every day with the fear that he’d hurt them. That they’d change their minds.

She still felt the same fear, sometimes. Knew there was nothing to be done for it but wait for him to come back, hold him close, and not let him push her away.

Because Jason could hurt them. Any of the bats could do serious damage, but most of them not by accident.

Jason lived every day with a weight around his neck, chained to the knowledge that all it’d take was one surge of the pit.

One break in his control and he might hurt one of them in ways nobody could fix.

Cass couldn’t imagine living with that kind of weight. She’d known she was a weapon, raised and trained to violence so she could be pointed and released.

Her father had never understood that she was still the one in control, not him. That she’d obeyed because she chose to, because she loved him, because she craved affection.

That she could walk away as easily as she had, find another family who would love her, and understand that there were… gaps inside her.

Places where she still didn’t know what fit. What to do, what to say when things were hard and her throat got tight. What to do when she messed up and hurt someone.

But at least she knew it would only be her words. Her actions. The hurt she made might be deeper for it and she was still so scared it might one day be too much, but…

She’d never see their blood on her hands.

Jason still did, sometimes. She’d see it when he looked at Tim and his throat closed up. When he stopped breathing for way too long.

When they’d all be teasing him, watching closely, weighing the green in his eyes, and he’d go to snap back at Tim and bite his tongue so hard it bled.

Cass hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen how bad it had gotten, when Jason first came back. And maybe that was a blessing because she couldn’t have fought him.

Seeing the pain that still wound through him was enough to choke her. Seeing it then, when Bruce refused to believe it was him, Tim’s throat in his hand?

When the pit had his ear, all rage and hate and betrayal?

Her family had nearly broken before she got back. There had nearly been nothing for her to return to.

Instead, she’d come back to a stalemate. Jason’s rage tempered, forced solely onto Bruce while he fought himself to keep the rest of them out of it.

To a new brother, if one who demanded they stay out of his side of the city, who’d fire a shot if they broke his rules.

And maybe it was the same fear, that looming dread that one day she’d hurt them too that had pulled her to him. To reassure herself that even with all he’d done, Jason was still there.

To reassure Jason that there was nothing he could do to lose his family. If they could accept her, gaps and all, they would find space for him.

Maybe it was their shared time with the league, finally free enough to exchange what words they had.

Cass could read anyone. Oh, it wasn’t a science; body language was an art, every subtle twitch and motion possibly meaning a million things, different to each individual.

It took a little time to work out anything beyond the broad strokes, to observe and understand what each person meant by the smaller gestures.

Pain was easy. Physical or emotional, it did a couple things every time. Tension, aggression, training. The things she’d needed when violence was her only language.

Happiness was harder. Worry, stress, the things behind those were still tricky for her to nose out, but she was learning when to push and when not to.

She didn’t always know why, but that was what her words were for.

Jason hadn’t taken any time at all. He’d been as trained by Bruce as any of them, gone through all the rigorous exercises to control himself, hide any traces of emotion if needed.

Cass could never fully put her finger on why it just… didn’t work. Jason could do a poker face better than anyone she knew. Could lock every muscle, go still as stone.

He’d never have survived the league if he couldn’t. And yet she’d just look at him even when the pit wasn’t in control, when rage hadn’t stripped him back to nothing at all, and it was just…

Written all over him. Every worry, every stress, every half smothered moment of hope. She’d taken one look at him in the league and Known him.

It felt like he knew her too, in ways that no one but Damian got close to. Knew the weight of her past, the weight of her mistakes, and how much it burdened her.

He’d come back on the 25th changed, happy in a gentle way, the barest lines of pit rage left. And then the day after Danger Twink there he was again; moving light as air with that choking tension gone.

The longer she saw him with Danny, the more certain she was.

Jason had never been in less danger in his life. Danny had that same air of death, but he was also more alive than anyone she’d ever seen.

And he’d give his right arm if it kept the people around him safe.

It was kind of funny, really. Just like Jason, Danny was surprisingly easy to read.

Oh, young people tended to telegraph more, their emotions writ loud, and she had a good read on Sam and Tucker already. But just like Jason, there was no element of guesswork with Danny.

She didn’t have to wait and keep watching or check her results. It was just… obvious. Heart on his sleeve, even when they talked about the dangers of home.

She could almost feel his curiosity lapping at the edge of her awareness as desserts were brought out, even without looking at him.

She kept to the curved end of the table though, so the rest of them could see her more easily. It still felt… strange doing that. Making herself noticeable.

Even as she’d gotten used to talking, with her hands or with her mouth, she still had trouble with the idea of standing out. Making herself noticeable.

And of course at galas, she usually didn’t even let on she could sign. It was possible that game was up, but anyone else who knew sign was probably less likely to be an ass about her needing it.

But her family wanted to know what she had to say. Valued her input, even for unimportant things. And if Jason had to practice letting them love him, she had to practice letting them hear her.

Metaphorically, sometimes. They didn’t seem to mind.

And she was having more fun than she’d expected tonight. She enjoyed recon, gathering information, but she was enjoying just talking to Sam and Danny too.

They fit with Tucker the way Tim fit with his Young Justice friends. Confident, sure of themselves and their connection.

She’d like to see them in action, although probably not tonight. Not everyone brought their heroing gear to fancy parties. Although most people did in Gotham.

Tonight’s event had been quiet so far if Vlad didn’t count.

It wasn’t destined to last.

The dining hall had mostly emptied out, the party moving back into the main hallways when a dozen windows shattered.

Guests didn’t so much scream as gasp in surprise, although one young woman sounded distinctly angry as a spray of glass splashed into her new drink.

Cass still wasn’t sure she approved of the hall’s sugar-glass as opposed to bulletproof strategy, but she could appreciate the effect.

Just like the movies, the crash and scatter were very impressive, with very little chance of actually hurting anyone.

Personally Cass thought a few more rogues could do with slamming face first into bulletproof glass.

It might not deter the attacks, but it’d either dampen the enthusiasm or bring out the bazookas. Either way, heavier weapons came off the streets.

She was a little surprised to see Killer Croc bursting through the large double doors though. Not quite enough to pause on her way to a dark corner, but she noted it.

He usually preferred to stick to overt mobsters rather than dirty his teeth on Gotham’s elite. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to leave anyone guessing.

“Where the fuck is Harvey Dent?” He roared, grabbing an attendant by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

Cass’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the number of assailants, the question marks on their suits. Riddler must not have been as down as Tim assumed, and that could be bad news.

On the other hand, if Riddler was here they’d know by now.

She’d lost most of the others when the crowd surged together, contracting, and finally reached up to push a comm into her ear. Heard Sam yell in the background.

“CASS!”

And felt her chest compress for just a moment.

She’d seen Sam Manson at galas before, two or maybe even three times. She’d always seemed annoyed, resentful, angry underneath that pretty smile.

They’d exchanged nods. Waves. Nothing that should have Sam screaming for her when trouble finally broke.

Then there were other screams, and Cass has to fight a smile. No, Sam wasn’t scared for her. Sam sounded absolutely fucking furious.

Her parents must have been right to worry too, because from the sound of it she’d taken it out on whichever unfortunate body Cass had used to slip away.

She’d have felt bad if she was less certain Sam would have loved to deck anyone at the gala anyway. It was a little sweet that she’d been clocked as a civilian.

Someone to protect. That might be nice one day.

Sam was still swearing to beat the band, audible even as the goons tried to gather the fragmenting crowd together.

Cass skidded under a refreshment table, comm in her ear coming to life.

“Report.” Bruce. Not doing the Batvoice, so somewhere in the pile. Possibly intentionally, if Croc was after Dent.

“Out,” she hissed, sticking to the edges of the room as she let her suit blend her into the shadows. Much easier than dresses, whatever Steph said.

“Out,” came Tim’s voice, sounding a little rushed. Sloppy.

“Out,” Steph called, and Cass was a little surprised at that. The other girl had been close to their civilians too, and she hadn’t thought they’d both make it undetected.

“In,” Dick whispered, voice barely audible. But Cass could hear Sam still yelling when his comm picked up, “With Manson, lost Hood.”

So. Not as undetected as all that.

“Out,” Damian huffed, sounding thoroughly annoyed with all of them. More so a moment later when Cass slipped into the same shadow. “Amateurs.”

Jason just grunted, obviously not in a position to subvocalise. Obviously still in.

A bare second for analysis, then-

“Nightwing. Leave your civilian with Hood and extract. Hood, remain engaged. Eyes on Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Which, to a listening stranger, would sound like a protection order instead of what it was; a reminder that Jason in particular was being watched.

Jason couldn’t have put a more articulate “fuck you” into the words themselves as he grunted again, still deep in the crowd.

Poor Jason. He always hated being the one to be rescued.

Too bad for him Cass quite liked the chance to do it. Red Hood was just so big and tanky, everyone expected him to come charging to the rescue.

Swooping in to save his day was extra fun because of that. He couldn’t even hide his pout behind his helmet in civilian clothes.

Cass and Damian made their way to the back rooms, dodging goons who must have come in through the windows here.

They were still sweeping the halls, grabbing any guests who’d managed to get out of the main halls and muscling them back in.

It was easy for the bats to duck into one of the cleared rooms. Both shucked their suits to reveal their night gear, Damian pulling his cape and domino from a concealed wall safe.

Cass just needed her mask, which fit inside her Black Bat suit pocket beneath the main suit. She wasn’t surprised Damian had been layering too.

Most of the bats did, or at least kept a domino on them for plausible deniability. After all, it wasn’t called the surprising or unexpected rogue attack.

Both now fully suited up, Cass and Damian exchanged looks.

‘Ready?’ Cass asked, and Damian tutted.

“Fenton is a meta,” he reaffirmed, eyes narrowing behind him domino. Cass ruffled his hair and headed for the door.

“Agree,” she reassured him softly, and felt him startle. Poor kid. Damian had plenty of his own issues around being heard. Belonging. “Best not out.”

His brows furrowed and he rolled his arms, but followed.

“Todd needs to know what he’s dealing with,” he grumbled as they listened at the door.

Cass kinda wished she’d left a mouth on her mask, but the reasons not to had outweighed letting the others see her smile. They could usually tell anyway.

“Disappeared together,” she reminded Damian softly instead, attention now split to the hall outside. Things were quieting down.

Damian’s pout grew more pronounced, then he shook himself and refocused.

“Perhaps we will see what he is made of now,” he mused under his breath.

Cass considered reminding him that it might not be safe for Danny to use whatever meta abilities he had, but decided not to. After all, her family more than proved that there were people out there who didn’t much care for “safe”.

It was also their job to make sure no one else had to put themselves in harm’s way. Even if they were curious.

Pushing out into the hall, she and Robin took the high road.

Still buried in the middle of the crowd, Dick kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder as they were buffeted around. Keeping them together, as close as they could.

He might have worried about doing it except that she, clearly also used to rogue attacks and crowd control, had wrapped his tie around her fist like she had him on a leash.

Yeah, he kinda fucking loved Sam Manson. Perfect little sister vibes.

He’d managed to get his earpiece in undetected, taking advantage of her telling off some unfortunate soul who’d cut between her and Cass.

They were all being herded towards the dining hall again now, surrounded by a circle of goons and prodded as Croc’s yells directed them.

“Everybody shut the fuck up and stick together! We’ll be out of your hair just as soon as we have all your valuables and that little fucker Dent!”

Dick was pretty damn sure he saw the same lady who’d been talking to them when Vlad showed up slip earrings, bracelet, and her fucking phone into that silly fan.

Apparently it wasn’t just a weirdly anachronistic accessory. Good for her.

Through the doors he could see the henchmen beginning to split the crowd into smaller groups, grabbing and pushing and fuck, he’d have to drop Sam off before reaching that.

Luckily he was pretty sure he could already see Jason, and he leaned into Sam’s ear.

“Look, I’ll be able to look for Cass better on my own, they’re splitting us up and I don’t want her on her own. Can I drop you with Jason and the guys? So I can tell Cass you’re okay,” he added quickly when her head snapped round, eyes narrowed.

She studied his expression for a moment then snorted, digging into a very well concealed pocket in her skirt and pulling out what looked a lot like a tiny taser.

He was gonna get Steph the name of her dressmaker. If they didn’t already use the same one.

“Whatever. This’ll help you get through the crowds, I can get to the guys,” she grumbled back, not quite shouting over the noise of the crowd.

Dick gave her his best apologetic grin, and took the taser to see what it’d do. Always nice to see a new toy.

“Cass’ll have my ass if she even thinks I left you with some of these creeps so unless you have-” before he could finish the sentence Sam had already pulled out a second, larger taser.

She gave him the baby one.

Stifling a laugh, he checked on Jason’s position again, noted the three people between them, and gave Sam a gentle nudge in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, you’re clearly more prepared than me, but we’re nearly there so jet.”

Sam gave him a sarcastic half smile, the man behind her jumped about a foot in the air, and Dick flicked his comm.

“Hood, confirm receipt,” he hissed, sticking close until he got another confirming grunt from Jason.

Then he made his way to the edge of the crowd, tucking his shoulders in to shrink his silhouette. A guy couldn’t hang out with Superman and Clark Kent without learning a few things.

It was a little closer than he’d have liked, but he managed to duck into a shadow just before crossing through the dining room doors.

A pair of goons hurried to close the party inside and he hurried to find a good spot to change. And a thought struck him.

“Hey, anyone think it’s too late to page in Signal?”

A series of muffled giggles and gasps came back, mostly muted, and Bruce sighed heavily.

“Fine. Going dark, coordinate yourselves around Red Robin.”

Someone must have decided to fish Bruce Wayne out of the crowd. Hoping Jason wasn’t too close, Dick pulled out his phone and a domino from separate pockets.

Duke might get to meet Danny in person after all. It was only 8pm.

Oh, and there was one more thing.

“Manson gave me a new taser.”

Jealous grumbles filled the air and Dick grinned as he stashed his jacket and tie.

“She also kept a bigger one for herself. We’ve got some spicy civilians today,” he commented cheerfully, testing the weight of the new taser as he moved to the windows.

Very nice, small and sleek and light, in a white and green scifi design. Just the thing some rich society types might give their little girl to keep her safe in Gotham.

Maybe he’d even get a chance to use it; escrima sticks did not fit well under tight trousers. Oh, there was a pair hidden, but where was the fun in that?

And maybe if he was extra lucky, Sam’d let him take a look at the bigger one after the fun was over. Preferably not on the receiving end.

Gotham was… confusing. Vlad didn’t know what to make of it.

These people were so damn scandalised by him putting a gentle hand on a young adult, yet armed goons and some form of crocodile man were apparently completely normal.

Oh, there was the odd cry, the occasional scream as a couple of hundred members of Gotham’s high society were pushed around, but from the quiet chatter surrounding him, this sort of nonsense was expected.

Amity Parkers reacted more than this to ghost attacks, and no one was ever seriously hurt during those. Not a lot more, obviously, but still.

He was almost becoming annoyed.

If he didn’t have his ghost sense he might have thought this “Killer Croc” was a ghost of some kind. He had that love of drama, the need for noise and attention.

It made Vlad think of Skulker really. Still, it was almost nice to know that the living could be just as dramatic. Ghosts had to come from somewhere after all.

Vlad could tolerate a little drama in other people, but he certainly had no time for it himself.

None at all.

Nope.

Still, there was something decidedly amusing about the whole situation. With the barest fraction of his powers he could likely deal with the whole crew.

Hells, they were few enough it’d hardly been a strain to overshadow every single one of the three dozen or so goons.

But that wouldn’t be fun now would it?

From what his neighbours were saying, though still none directly to him, the end result of these little messes was as predictable as the event itself.

Gotham had so many masked vigilantes at least one or two were sure to be close, and then the evening could continue. Perhaps a pause to redistribute valuables.

Personally, Vlad would prefer Gotham’s vigilantes take their time to show up. He’d been on the receiving end of Daniel’s heroic tendencies plenty of times.

It would be quite entertaining to be the one being saved. They’d all been separated into groups of fifteen, each with their own goon minder holding out what Vlad was sure was a fucking pillowcase for valuables.

A pillowcase. It didn’t even have handles. Yes, definitely better treat this as an amusing diversion because otherwise he’d have to be insulted.

Still, Vlad was content for now to sit on the floor, eyes scanning the room mostly patiently for his little badger.

That green scaly gentleman was stalking between the clusters of guests, ranting and raving about this “Dent” he was looking for.

Vlad doubted he’d get results, but perhaps once this whole mess was tidied up he would look into acquiring his services. Depending on how well he did when things got… messy.

He wasn’t paying him much mind at the moment though, because he’d just caught sight of a familiar flash of white hair.

Just Jason. No Phantom yet, but that was fine. And what a fun potential opportunity to see what their new halfa was like under pressure…

And as expected, there was Daniel, tucked close to the boy’s side. Still with Samantha and Tucker too, which was sure to make Daniel happy.

Adjusting himself more comfortably, Vlad settled in to wait. Daniel would make some sort of move soon. He was dimly aware that Brucie Wayne had just been pulled from the crowd.

Sam leaned in over Danny’s left shoulder, keeping her voice low.

“So Vlad’s fucking staring at us across the hall like the biggest creep on earth,” she hissed, and Danny automatically almost jolted to look.

Caught himself just in time. Leaned back against her, most of his attention still on Killer Croc.

“Think he had anything to do with this?” He asked under his breath, his gaze now meandering slowly across the other groups.

Yup, there was Vlad. Staring straight at him. Smiling when their eyes met, before Danny’s could dart away.

Ew.

“Does he look super expectant to anyone else?” Tucker whispered from behind them. Jason let out a soft growl, probably without even thinking about it.

Danny slipped a hand into his, squeezing gently.

Calm-relax-help is coming

Was not quite prepared for the shock that flashed back before Jason got it under control.

Jason hadn’t officially told Danny that the other Waynes and associates were the bats yet. He kinda didn’t have to.

Even if Jason had left the life after his death, that didn’t mean the family had. Still, it also wasn’t Jason’s secret to share, so Danny pretended to ignore it.

Much more productive to try and work out what the fuck Vlad’s angle was. Some kind of trick where he could play the hero and cozy up to Bruce?

Could he have orchestrated an attack with some of Gotham’s rogues? So far all of Croc’s demands had been for valuables and Harvey Dent, whoever that was.

There were surprisingly few actual valuables forthcoming too. Danny and Sam had obediently dropped their phones into an offered pillowcase, and wrestled Tucker’s precious PDA from his fingers.

The question mark guy had taken one look at it and tossed it back, declaring it junk. Aaaand Danny had shoved a fist into Tucker’s mouth while Sam reminded him that if he defended Ida’s worth, they’d take her.

He still wasn’t happy, but he had her in hand so he’d settled a lot more easily than the alternative.

Still, none of the pillowcases were really bulging, which was kinda weird. Most of the jewellery that had been on prominent sparkly display had kinda vanished when the windows shattered.

Some bigger pieces had been handed over, but Danny would swear the tiny harmless old lady in their group had had full bangles, necklace, earrings, and six rings on top of the ornate hair comb she’d handed over.

Weirder still, the goons seemed more annoyed than surprised.

“C’mon, don’t make me shake your fucking pockets out,” their guy growled, sending a kick at a young man near the edge of their circle. “Phones, wallets, jewellery, now!”

A single phone was passed up. An utterly unbelievable four from a group of fifteen. Danny raised his hands, trying to keep his Obsession on the back burner.

This wasn’t his city. Not his job. And if he changed to fight these guys, he’d be putting his friends in danger.

That last part was carrying most of the weight, honestly. And he’d finally lost his No Rogues streak.

Bummer. He’d been going for a campus record.

For tonight though, he could also distract himself with what the fuck Vlad was up to.

Pillowcase might be the one tossing his weight around, but long experience had taught Danny that he couldn’t protect anyone if he got caught in Vlad’s machinations.

That knowing little fucking smirk on Vlad’s face when their eyes met. The fucker was up to something, Danny knew it.

Well, there was one way to work out what. Glancing over at Jason, Danny made a face.

He’d understand. And maybe Danny could warn him a little better this time? Cuz if he got that overwhelmed every time, it’d be a real problem when they started training.

Then again, Danny had had a hard enough time with strong auras when he first got started, and he’d had a full core. Jason didn’t and Danny was… well, a lot bigger than Skulker or Technus.

Also Jason was still holding his hand. Which he had completely forgotten. Yup, his focus was totally great today.

He leaned in towards Jason instead, trying not to get differently distracted by the large man’s tension. Lots of muscles, well fitted suit, it would happen to anyone!

Except him. Today. Because there was a problem.

“Hey… I’m gonna try and get a read on Vlad, but that means I’ve gotta extend again. You good?”

It took every single second of every one of his four years with the League of Assassins to stop Jason flushing cherry red.

Great.

Best evening ever.

Highlight of his life.

His fucking king was checking if he was gonna pop a boner if he did some intel. Maybe he shoulda just fucking stayed in his damn grave.

It Did Not help that he could feel Danny’s concern creeping along the back of his neck like the lightest touch. Although…

Brow furrowing a little, Jason tried to chase down the feeling. Better than dealing with his own emotional state, which was Not Going There.

Danny felt… worried? About him? Not in the totally mortifying way Jason expected either. This felt almost soft.

Like he worried Jason might be hurt or upset if he did it.

There was a chance Danny hadn’t noticed.

Jason had been overwhelmed by Frostbite in the Far Frozen, it’d be a perfect cover if Danny hadn’t noticed the… key difference between the two.

Although the distinct amusement he could feel radiating off Sam suggested that she might have. Great again.

Since when could he feel human emotions?

How sure was he that Sam was still just human. She wasn’t a halfa, that was clear because there was no way Danny and Vlad could have missed it.

There were a lot of things between living and dying though. Jason was beginning to wonder just how many of them toed the edge of that particular line.

For now, he cleared his throat and tried to work out how best to seem like a totally-not-turned-on-by-your-looming-presence-in-my-every-breath guy.

Maybe it’d be better if he knew what to expect.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

In all his years as a halfa and eventually the king of ghosts, Danny had never actually felt someone just turn themselves off before.

Jason’s aura shut down like he’d flicked a switch, his face suddenly completely unreadable. It was fucking weird, the sudden void where he’d been used to ignoring a background hum.

Maybe he’d fucked Jason up worse than he’d thought before. All those thoughts and feelings could be overwhelming, and Danny had tried not to send any messages beyond his presence, but…

His fucking presence was kind of a lot these days. Even he didn’t know how loud it’d get, it had been a long time since he’d faced down Pariah Dark.

And that had been a life or death situation. He’d been ready to deal with it. He’d kinda sprung this on Jason today.

Fuck, just the thought he might have hurt Jason twanged on the strings currently pulled taught by his Obsession. Made him want to wrap the other halfa up and Protect him from the world.

Which was exactly the thing that’d hurt Jason in the first place. No way he’d wanna deal with that again.

He was about to apologise for even mentioning it when he felt Jason slowly open up. Reaching back, probing and…

Danny didn’t try and look. Didn’t want to know what his words had caused which made the other man do That.

He didn’t need to though. Embarrassment-worry-hope spilled from that questing contact, and Danny made a specific effort not to think about it.

Jason was a big guy. Big and strong and clearly worked for his strength. Being caught in any moment of weakness probably sucked for him.

Hard to relate to, since even though Danny was technically the biggest and scariest fish in the whole damn ocean, he’d been a scrawny little fuck for his entire full life.

He’d been ground in the dirt long after he’d had the strength to stop it, and feigning weakness had kinda kicked that whole ego thing in the ass.

It helped when he was having to relive his most embarrassing highlights to prepare Jason for the “fun” of developing halfa powers.

Relief came through loud enough that Danny nearly smiled, nearly sent something back to reassure him, but he held off. It… didn’t feel intentional?

And yeah, very normal that Jason hadn’t liked the near-telepathy Danny’s empathy gave him into his thoughts and feelings before. It was invasive.

Buuuuut that worked for him when the one he was invading was a creepy old fuck with the occasional world domination scheme.

He glanced up when Jason cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

Danny wasn’t gonna insult him by calling him a liar. Closing his eyes, he did his best to tamp down his presence and just reach across the hall.

Watching their whispered discussion with interest, Vlad almost wished he could hear them. Or spread his own energy the way Daniel could, far enough to read them from a distance.

That must have been what they were discussing though, because a moment later he could feel the stroking Presence of Daniel across his very soul.

Let the boy look. He had nothing to hide.

Danny’s eyes snapped open, blatantly dumbfounded.

“He’s fucking waiting for me to rescue him,” he hissed, almost loud enough to attract their goon’s attention.

Luckily another couple were busily insisting they simply did not own a cellphone. In Gotham city. In this day and age.

Just tell the guy to go fuck himself why don’t you.

None of the others seemed to know what to do with Danny’s revelation, though Jason’s lips pressed into a very thin line.

Danny would put money on repressing laughter.

Sam seemed to be on the same wavelength, brightening up and leaning in to Danny’s other ear.

“Wanna save literally anyone but him?” She murmured under her breath, glancing around the room.

Danny clapped a hand over his mouth ahead of any wayward giggles.

“SAM. There are bats about!” He hissed through his fingers and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah so stay Fenton. You could still punch Killer Croc, it’s not like he has ectoblasts.”

Why did she have a point.

Why was Jason suddenly grinning at him, so bright with glee-mischief-fuckery Danny didn’t even need his aura to see it.

“Danny. Remember what my brother called you?” He asked quietly, leaning in almost close enough to be… distracting. Which was totally the only reason it took Danny a moment to twig.

Longer than Tucker anyway.

“Danger twink,” the Black man whistled with a wicked glee of his own. A grin spread across Danny’s own face.

“Oh… hell yes.”

As usual, Bruce found himself in a position to fully agree with his children.

Galas sucked.

Of course, that wasn’t unique to this one. He felt the same way most of the time. He understood the importance of keeping up appearances, but he’d rather spend the night asleep if he couldn’t be working.

Usually, the rogue attack was a pleasant diversion. A chance to watch his family at work. Bruce didn’t mind playing hostage for them.

Today, he was just frustrated.

He needed to talk to Jason. Needed to catch up with Tim, get whatever intel he’d acquired. Needed to get Jason away from this Danny and keep him safe.

The Riddler’s men pulling him from the crowds while they split them into manageable chunks was unfortunately expected. Brucie’s friendship with Harvey Dent was well known.

As little as he liked it, Batman preferred having some control of the situation. What he couldn’t understand was why Killer Croc and Riddler would both think Harvey was here.

Croc could sometimes be reasoned with, he’d gotten away from the Gotham nightlife more than once, but he kept being pulled back in.

Tonight did not seem to be one of his good nights.

Brucie fixed his best smile in place as the scaled man bellowed at him.

“We’re gonna find yer pal Dent, Brucie! Just give him up!”

Luckily, he’d put a lot of work into making Brucie as vapid as possible.

“Gee, it’s a surprise to see you here today, Mister Croc. I heard you had moved to Coney Island to do shows, I was really looking forward to bringing my kids down to see you,” he said cheerfully, like they were catching up in a cafe.

Croc was not amused. Yellow eyes narrowed.

“An’ now I’m here, and the only person I wanna see is that half barbecued mess you call a friend,” he growled, grabbing the front of Brucie’s shirt and shaking him roughly.

Bruce let himself flop, eyes going wide and terrified.

With any luck, Kane would be busy on the other side of town. He’d rather be able to check in with her later about the whole Danny scenario, her opinion unbiased.

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I can help you,” he gasped, hands coming up to clutch Croc’s, “Harvey isn’t here.”

That made the man stop, those slit pupils dilating as he squinted down into Brucie’s face. He did his very best wide eyed, empty headed socialite back.

He seemed to be coming to a conclusion as one of the Riddler’s men stepped up, holding up a tablet. On screen, there was the Riddler, idly spinning his cane.

“How goes the man hunt, Croccy?” He asked over the speakers, barely glancing at the man in his grasp.

Killer Croc examined Brucie for a moment longer, then snorted and dropped him. Brucie dropped to the floor, gasping for air and keeping at an angle where he could see the screen.

Had Riddler’s new bombs been intended for the gala all along? Or was this retaliation for the warehouse raid?

“He ain’t here yet,” Croc grumbled, and Bruce noted that for later.

Had Harvey been planning to attack the gala? As always with Two Face, it’d be a coin toss. The bats hadn’t heard that he was planning anything, but that didn’t always mean he wasn’t.

Riddler tutted softly, still spinning his cane.

“Well, we have time to wait. Are all the guests ready?”

His goon turned obediently, panning the tablet’s camera around the room. Brucie let himself drop slightly further back to keep the screen in sight, laying on the floor.

“Excellent.” Riddler sounded satisfied, which probably wasn’t good. “Croc!”

The goon turned again, bringing the camera back to face Killer Croc. Bruce was familiar enough with his face to see the reluctant tick of a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t exactly a dignified job, being the tablet bearer. Still, it did put this man lower on the priority list for his children to take out, so it had advantages.

“Yeah, yeah,” Killer Croc grumbled, also turning back to the room at large, and Bruce tensed. He was losing their interest.

“If Harvey-” he was cut off by a casual kick from Killer Croc, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he had no choice but to crumple around it.

Batman could tank a hit. Brucie couldn’t be allowed to look even half as capable.

And then his heart froze in his chest as Croc bellowed to the rest of the room.

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

In the shadows of the ceiling, Nightwing, Spoiler, and Red Robin froze as one. Black Bat and Robin were mapping the perimeter, checking the number of goons and any extra defences before Signal arrived.

Sharing a quick set of worried glances, Nightwing swung lightly across the hall to get a better look at the tablet. Tapped at his comm.

“Odds they want anything good with Jason?” He asked in a whisper, grimacing when Spoiler and Red Robin shook their heads as one.

Yeah. He figured.

“Odds we can move in now and get it over with?” Not that he expected them to be high.

Spoiler held out a hand palm down and wiggled it from side to side. Before any of them could speak, Robin commed in.

“Negative. There’s another dozen of Riddler’s men out here, setting up some sort of machine. It seems you caught the very tail end of his efforts,” he added with a disdainful scoff.

A grin tugged at Nightwing’s lips as Red Robin visibly twitched.

“That or he’s retaliating for his latest plan being foiled,” he offered cheerfully.

He didn’t particularly have any investment in them not having taken Riddler out of the picture; the man himself wasn’t in Arkham, so he’d assumed he’d be back.

Maybe not this soon, but Nigma could be volatile if his careful preparations were disturbed. And since he also wasn’t here…

“Something’s wrong either way, Riddler loves being on scene far too much to stay in the shadows,” Red Robin hissed, eyes still darting around. “He’d want to send a taunt to the Bats.”

“He’s gonna be real disappointed that we’re all here already if he’s posted up somewhere else,” Spoiler pointed out with a slight smirk, glancing around the hall. “Should we ask Signal to hold back?”

“Hey, you got me out of bed for the Danger Twink,” Signal cut in, just a hint of a grunt indicating he was already on his way.

“Batwoman and Bluebird can hunt him down if the taunt comes,” Red Robin cut them both off, brows furrowed in that all too familiar calculating frown.

Which, yeah. It’d be bugging him way more than Nightwing that something was off with the rogues’ behaviour. Red Robin liked knowing everything about everyone, all the time.

Nightwing didn’t mind switching it up, though every bat knew how to roll with the punches.

The lack of a puzzle was odd though. Riddler usually didn’t move in public until he had at least something ready to share.

Reaching up, he tapped his comms.

“Hey Robin, any chance you can get a closer look at what they’re setting up? See what we’re gonna be dealing with before Puzzle Quest starts?”

Robin just sounded impatient, flicking his own comms loud enough they all heard the impact.

“That is what I am doing. Thus far it seems rather basic. No recording or transmitting equipment.”

Which meant that either Riddler was set up to broadcast somewhere else, or this really wasn’t his operation. But what would Riddler have to gain from working with Killer Croc?

Or were they both just looking for Two face?

Too many questions, and they weren’t likely to get the answers without at least two of the rogues in question. Hopefully someone else would get their hands on Riddler, if he wasn’t coming personally.

Maybe it wasn’t great that more than half the family were on site. Fucking typical that this would be the first rogue attack ever without the rogues physically present.

Red Robin’s head rose, and Nightwing settled into position to wait. Time for the plan.

“Black Bat, finish your sweep and let us know if there’s anything else being set up on site, Spoiler go to join her. Signal, sweep the outer perimeter when you arrive, be on the watch for Riddler himself or more goons.”

Spoiler nodded, making her way from the hall through the chandelier maintenance hatch. Red Robin looked across at Nightwing, and he gave him a thumbs up.

“I’ll get a little closer and see if I can’t get an eye on that screen while you hack the feed?” He asked, and grinned when Red Robin shot him a grateful smile.

It was hard for any of them to keep up when Tim fell into his full planning mode, whether they were masked or not. Any time he didn’t have to spell things out he was happy.

Nightwing never held it against him. The kid could leave Batman spinning his wheels and he’d been frustrated often enough when he had to explain his plans to the Teen Titans.

Knowing that everyone in the room was smart and capable did not help when you were talking at cross purposes.

Tonight, he attached a line to one of the ornate pillars along the walls and lowered himself down into the shadows of one of the draped blue hangings.

If nothing else, it gave him a good view as Jason was pulled from his little group.

Little Wing looked… well, not that they’d expected him to look terrified or even particularly concerned, but he looked seriously amused by the situation.

This should be good.

It wasn’t that Jason had been expecting to be singled out. As far as most of the rogues knew, the Waynes were just another one of the richest families in town.

Good to shake down for cash, but not usually of any special interest. He was pretty sure most of the rogues couldn’t even name half the adopted kids.

So being called out by Killer Croc? Not expected. That it had happened literally right after he and Danny had been discussing plans to start shit?

Incredible. 10/10, Croc was moving up on his favourite villain list. He’d always been high, but this might do it.

It helped that the rush of Danny’s Presence had been more manageable this time. Whether it was having been warned or just experiencing it before, he hadn’t been swept off his feet.

It was still a lot, as if Danny had laid himself along Jason’s back and then pulled his way straight into his body. But he could breathe. Could think, could focus, and then it was gone again.

And being summoned by Killer Croc pretty much right away.

Maybe the adrenaline helped. Who fucking knew.

He raised a hand as the goons all turned to their groups, squinting suspiciously at the socialites.

“That’d be me?” He offered dryly, already rising as their riddler minion made as if to push through their group.

Sam grabbed Danny’s arm as Jason moved away, and onlookers might have confused it as her wanting comfort, or stopping Danny from following.

This close, Jason knew it was a warning for Danny not to actually laugh. The timing was just… the actual fucking best.

Killer Croc actually moved down towards him too, rather than having Jason brought up to the stage. Even better. Jason didn’t exactly square up, but he didn’t back down.

Croc seemed to approve, giving Jason an entirely unsubtle once over as he stopped just in front of him.

Better play carefully though. He’d worked with Croc as the Red Hood, and he already knew Roy’s real identity.

Croc had been running with Harley lately (and Jason kinda loved that partnership made in Hell) but he wasn’t officially on the list of Rogues Who Knew.

Luckily the plan wasn’t for Jason to take a swing at him.

“So yer back from the dead,” Croc growled, something in his eye making Jason wonder if they might not have to update that list after all. “Coulda sworn you were a scrawny little shit.”

Jason shrugged. It wasn’t really something he could deny; he’d grown almost a foot and a half. Being dead: weirdly good for growth spurts.

“I got better.”

What it was to Croc though… unless he did know who Jason really was. But then he’d have known Jason had been back for a while.

Croc rumbled something under his breath, and Jason made a note to run him down later as Red Hood. He’d been settled in Coney Island, finally out of the game.

Jason wasn’t gonna put him in Arkham if there was a chance they could fix whatever had dragged him back to town. And they could catch up. See what he actually knew.

Eyes narrowing just a little, Croc caught a scaly thumb under Jason’s jaw and tipped his face back and forth.

“So what the hell’ve you done to piss of Two Face, kid?” He asked in a lower growl, not quite quiet enough for privacy but not yelling to the whole hall.

Jason’s brows furrowed.

So they weren’t after Dent as a guest. He’d been planning an attack on the gala. Whether he’d still go through with it now though…

And the good news was, best case scenario here was to tell the truth. At least some of it.

“No idea. I’ve only been back in the land of the living for a couple weeks.” And he hadn’t run across Two Face recently in any costume.

Croc chuckled softly, which Jason was going to weigh in the “might know” column, but was interrupted by Riddler shouting across the hall.

“Just bring the boy here, Croccy, we need to set the stage before our fickle friend shows up!” He sounded impatient, and Jason watched annoyance flick across Croc’s eyes.

But the big man just shrugged, curling an arm around Jason’s bicep and tugging him towards the stage.

Yeah, Jason could feel just how much Danny didn’t like that development. There was a new undercut of tension alongside the amused-excited-anticipation.

And it was as good a time as any to start the show.

“What do you guys want with Two Face?” He asked as Croc dragged him, moving with him but not quite keeping up.

Flicking wait-soon-just one second as much as he could towards Danny.

Croc glanced back and gave him a harsher yank to keep up, attention now fixed on the stage. Where a couple more of Riddler’s goons had appeared, holding what looked fascinatingly like a bomb vest.

Joy. Not just Croc’s idea then.

“You’ll see just as soon as he shows up,” the big guy growled, and Jason sighed. So much for the easy way.

Ready-ready-ready

DUCK

“Catching” one toe on the heel of his other shoe, Jason stumbled and fell to the floor. As expected Croc twisted to glare down at him, grip still tight on his arm. Even bent over just a little, like he’d seen the script.

Perfect.

Which meant he didn’t see Danny vaulting up from his spot on the floor and wasn’t even a little prepared for an entire scrawny but muscular young man to land squarely straddling his shoulders, his added weight and momentum pitching Croc forwards and down to the ground.

Danny rode him down like a rodeo champ, leaning back and grinning at Jason as a hail of batarangs came from the ceiling.

“Come here often?” He asked cheerfully as Croc roared, clawed hands swiping up just after Danny rolled away down his back.

Jason snorted a laugh, pulling free as well and backing away.

Fucking danger twink. Yeah, he was kinda in love.

——————-

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main ship #the inevitable rogue attack #danny fenton x jason todd #and here is where shit gets real #nobody correctly guessed who was coming #but i’m gonna keep making you wait 😈#also for sam’s pov we’ll get her at the real climax of the event

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