#also clarification: v Was actually enthusiastic about hitting him. as was he. both had a good time. the spousal abuse had not started yet

[hostilemuppet]

I know Viv has that sex tape shit on standby but also. I think it would be funny if she releases it and her scheme of “tell them I was paid to do it” immediately failed bc it shows her clearly enjoying some crazy shit. Out here begging Clay to hit her with that rubber chicken and bust out the whipped cream. Viv antis and trolls investigating her claim start pullin’ out timestamps like “this you? 🤨” and shit.

[maxmayfield]

There and Back Again

I. “And so, for a triangle with sides A, B, and C, the cosine rule can—”

Steve blinks, eyelids suddenly heavy as his attention begins to waver. He’s always liked Ms. Davis; she’s a good teacher and she comes to all the basketball games, but there’s just something about today—something about the last several weeks actually. He’s been finding it hard to focus.

First it was the echoes of shrieks and ghosts of monsters that played constantly at the corners of his imagination. Then it was Nancy’s face swimming through his thoughts, the quick glimpses he caught of her in the hallways feeding his memories, making it difficult to do anything else besides miss her.

Slowly, Steve’s attention drifts past his desk, past the slightly dirty window, to outside, where winter is quickly turning to spring.

Things have changed a lot in the last months. Steve likes to think he’s kept up well with those changes; grown into someone bigger and better than who he used to be. But, never far behind those thoughts are the nagging ones that suggest maybe he’s grown a little too much, a little too big. For Hawkins, at least.

II. Steve grits his teeth, annoyed at his stupidly big mouth and his even stupider big heart for getting him into this situation. Jonathan Byers is there, in his car, in the passenger seat, tenser than a ready-to-spring mousetrap as he stares pointedly out the window.

Steve wants to slam on the breaks, reach across the gap between them, and punch him in his stupid face. But he resists, swallowing the urge to fight that still springs up so easily in his chest.

Instead, he grips the steering wheel a little too tightly and makes pained small talk, like years of his parents’ social gatherings has taught him. “Work was good?”

Jonathan shrugs slightly, apparently surprised at the friendly question—as if Steve pulling up behind him on the sidewalk and offering him a ride home in the pouring rain wasn’t already friendly enough. His answer, “I guess,” is tentative.

“No car today?” Steve continues, shoulders still tense as he tries to focus on driving through the rain, on the limited visibility in front of him—on anything really, other than the thought of Jonathan and Nancy together.

“It’s in the shop.”

“Cool.”

Silence falls again and Steve tries, really tries, to understand where he fits into this mess. Because Nancy’s been friendly; she’s trying hard, but Jonathan can barely look at him and Steve’s not sure if it’s because he’s embarrassed or because he feels bad. Steve’s not sure if he fits at all.

He breathes out steadily, pulling himself away from those thoughts and returning to this hellishly awkward car ride.

“Music?” Steve asks, the word coming out more like a command than a question and he’s almost glad when Jonathan nods enthusiastically and hits play on the cassette ring.

The choral notes of Starman filter through the speakers, crackling at first because Steve’s played the tape so many times it’ll have to be replaced soon. He feels a hint of smug satisfaction at the shocked look that crosses Jonathan’s face.

“You like Bowie?”

“I’m not deaf, Byers. Of course I like Bowie.”

That’s it. Silence for the remainder of the ride, save for the melancholy electricity of Bowie.

Steve pulls up in the Byers’s drive, expecting, for a moment, some monster to be lurking in the shadows. But Jonathan gets out of the car and quiet goodbyes are exchanged.

Steve turns his windshield wipers up a notch and drives home, suddenly very tired.

III. He decides to leave Hawkins on a Monday.

His going away party is the following Saturday. Although, it’s not much of a party. Claudia Henderson makes his favourite dinner, which he eats enthusiastically despite having just come from lunch with his parents.

The kids are all there, except Max. Steve doesn’t ask why. He already knows. They all ask him questions: where will he go, what will he do, and will he make friends. This last question comes from El and Steve grins at her, messing up her hair.

Goodbyes are quick, but not painless. Steve hugs each of the kids in turn, wondering how tall they’ll be when he next sees them; wondering if they’ll be safe; not just from horrible monsters, but from all the stuff that goes along with high school.

Just as he’s ducking into his car, Dustin slips away from the fray and slides a walkie-talkie into his hand. Their eyes meet and Steve smiles gently. Both know that the walkie won’t be in a functional range for long, but they leave that fact unspoken.

Steve swings by the arcade on his way out of town and, as expected, sees Max busy at her usual game. She’s scowling and her fingers press down on the buttons with more force than necessary. He sneaks up behind her, as stealthily as he can.

“Bet I can beat your score.”

Max doesn’t break eye contact with the game. Steve can tell it’s not because she’s mad at him; she just doesn’t want him to see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I wanted to say goodb—”

And then she’s hugging him, her arms tight around his torso, her face pressed into his shirt. Steve sighs and hugs her back, mentally berating himself. He knows Max hates goodbyes.

“I’ll see you later, Zoomer, I promise.”

IV. Three days on the road and Steve feels like he’s going in circles. He hasn’t decided where to go and more than once he’s driven right back to the town limits of Hawkins before turning around and setting out again.

Leaving is hard.

At night he sleeps in his car, curled up in the backseat with his old letter jacket strewn across his chest. It’s not ideal, but when he wakes up, stiff and a little worse for the wear, he finally doesn’t feel like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

V. Steve closes his eyes in delight, savouring the way the flavours melt together in his mouth. Ham and two types of bacon? Heaven. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t really eaten much in the last few days or maybe this really is the best sandwich he’s ever tasted. Either way, he’s downed it in practically three bites and quickly gets to work on the side of fries, doused in ketchup.

His waitress comes over to his table, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She fixes him with a smart grin, fire in her eyes as she takes in his near-empty plate. “I’d ask if you’re enjoying everything, but it looks pretty obvious that you are.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow in her direction, trying to think of something smart to say, but he’s rusty in that department too. And before his brain can supply a single word, she’s holding out her hand.

“I’m Robin.”

“Steve.”

He likes meeting new people now; people who don’t know his name or where he’s from or who he used to be. He likes thinking that he can be absolutely anyone he wants to be.

VI. Three months out of Hawkins and things have changed. New job. New apartment. New girlfriend. Life for Steve Harrington is pretty damn good.

On Saturdays, Steve hits up the local comic book shop. It’s bigger than the one in Hawkins; the one Dustin dragged him to on countless weekends that he’s begun to miss.

What started as a short trip to pick something up for the kids has become a weekly ritual. Now, aside from browsing for rare finds he can mail back to Hawkins for his little shits (who Robin has affectionately, after several phone calls, come to term his “fan club”), Steve is looking for the newest issue of Detective Comics for himself.

Saturdays also mean phone calls with Max. Mostly, she fills him in on the local gossip (on Mrs. Gillespie’s newest hairstyle or the ridiculous drama about petunias between Mrs. Harris and Mr. Delco). She reassures him that she’s fine, that things with Lucas are great and that she’s been spending a lot of time at the Hoppers’ place (and, more gossip, Hop and Joyce are totally flirting all the time). She asks when he’s coming home and he tells her soon.

Sometimes he feels guilty, because Steve thinks that maybe he’s found a new home.

VII. It’s a pepperoni pizza, pyjamas, and B-movie kind of night when the phone call comes. Steve and Robin are snuggled up on his couch—the one they found at the side of the road and spent three days refinishing together—and the shrill ringing of the telephone interrupts their running commentary on the low-quality flick.

Stretching out, nearly dropping his pizza, Steve grabs the receiver, his hello cut off by a flurry of words he can just barely follow, but he holds on to every single syllable.

“Steve?”

Robin is watching him from her spot on the sofa, her dark eyes intent on his face, worry creasing the corners of her lips. Steve meets her eye briefly and tries to smile, but his face can’t quite manage it with the worried voice in his ear.

“I’ll be there soon, Nance.”

The call ended, Steve stands, tossing aside his half-eaten slice and grabbing his jacket from where it hangs over the back of the sofa. Robin is on her feet as well, her face begging for clarification.

“I have to go,” Steve says, unsure how to explain the urgency to her.

Whatever questions he had been expecting from her never arrive. Instead, Robin licks her lips and nods curtly. “Okay. I’m coming with you.”

“It’s—” Steve stops himself. There’s no time. “I’ll explain on the way.”

VIII. “So wait, they were dogs?” Robin eyes him as they speed along the interstate back towards Hawkins, Steve hoping against hope that he won’t get pulled over. “Or demigagons?”

“Demogorgons,” Steve corrects her pronunciation, “And they were neither. Dustin called them Demodogs, but whatever they were, they had a lot of teeth.”

He’s waiting for her to laugh. To roll her eyes, tell him to stop the car and to quit screwing around. But she settles further into her seat, the gun they’d picked up from her place resting in the bag at her feet.

“I believe in aliens,” Robin says, as though she can read his mind, “What’s an interdimensional monster or two?”

“Two hundred,” Steve says quietly, the smile fading from his lips. He presses his foot down on the gas just a little bit harder, suddenly remembering the looks on the kids’ faces last year when they went down into those tunnels.

He should be there.

IX. Nancy is the first to notice the headlights pull up outside Hop’s cabin. Everyone else is distracted with planning and the bickering that goes along with it. She moves silently to the door and unlatches it, standing in the frame with her arms around herself as Steve gets out of the car, tall and imposing as ever. Just behind him is a girl Nancy doesn’t recognize, but she’s holding a gun and that’s good enough for her.

“Steve—” Nancy begins to greet him, but she’s overwhelmed, her voice catching in her throat. Mike and El have been missing for hours now and each passing moment weighs her down even more. Steve’s arms are around her, squeezing her in a way that feels safe and familiar. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Nancy notes how much she’s missed him.

“We’ll find them Nancy.”

That much, he can promise.

For @stevemossington because screw you Lara what have you done getting me obsessed with Steve all over again.