#like? I imagine Steve could be hurt from his bat wounds or something else

[catharusustulatus]

Ross Duffer posted some shotlisting for Season 5 using Funko Pops on Instagram Stories, and Steve is off in the corner and all these people are saying he’s dead, he’s bones, or whatever.

But!!! While I wouldn’t put it past the duffies to mess up and accidentally spoil that Steve is dead, it would be an absolutely huge ass spoiler if he was. So I am thinking he’s not dead but maybe injured or something? Idk I just think if he was dead or dying here you’d think the duffers wouldn’t want to spoil that. But what do I know?

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 26

Chapter 26 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Steve wakes up in the hospital and is caught up on everything that has happened since he passed out by Robin. It sets him on a warpath to get the government to clean this up, unafraid to threaten people that he really shouldn’t be threatening. In the hospital, emotions are still running high and there are more wounds than just the physical to heal.

On AO3.

Ships: steddie & buckingham

Warnings: injury, hospital, eating disorder mention, period typical homophobia mention

~~~~

Chapter 26: The Setting Things Right

Steve isn’t sure he’s grateful about passing out or not when he wakes up and finds it is the afternoon.

Not that he knows that at first, he just groans and blinks blearily. A white room slowly comes into focus as he tries to remember what the fuck happened for him to get here. Luckily, before he can go into a spiral about Russians, Robin is leaning over him exclaiming: “Thank god, you fucking dingus.”

“Wha’ happened?” Steve croaks, taking the straw Robin offers him gratefully as he takes a sip of water.

“You collapsed at the hospital, because you’re an idiot who doesn’t know how to clean a wound, I mean, really, Steve, toilet paper? You’re lucky you didn’t get an infection,” Robin tells him. “And the blood loss, but it was only a little bit. I know. They had to assure me a thousand times. I’m pretty sure the nurse already hates me.”

Hospital.

Blood loss.

The bats.

Eddie.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve says the last part out loud, already trying to get up, because he has to get to Eddie right now. See if he’s okay.

“Steve, Steve, calm down,” Robin yells, pushing him back. “You need to chill for three seconds, please.”

“Is he okay?” Steve pleads, needing to know right now or he’ll loose his mind.

Robin hesitates for a moment, which makes a pit sink into Steve’s stomach. Robin must see his heartbroken expression, because she quickly waves her hands in the air as she assures him: “He’s probably fine. At least the doctors said he has a good chance of waking up, but that’s all we really know, because he’s like still super mega wanted and we’re not family.”

The relief that courses through him is something he can’t describe. Sure, he’s still very worried about Eddie, but he’s alive and he has a good chance. That is much better than anything he could have hoped for when he first saw Eddie in the middle of the swarm.

They still have a chance to do all the things they want to do. The thought makes him feel warm inside, Eddie loves him back.

However, Robin looks a little anxious still. Steve can get that since he fucking collapsed on everyone, so he takes her hand and says: “Hey, we’re okay.”

Robin flinches at the words and doesn’t meet his eyes, which causes all the warmth to disappear and his veins to be flooded by ice. Something else has happened. They’re not okay. With shaky voice he asks: “We’re- We’re okay, right? Robbie?”

“Uhm, Chrissy- Chrissy and Max, they’re- they’re in the hospital too,” Robin tells him, choking on the words. “The basketball team got there and- and they broke Chrissy’s walkman. Max gave her hers while Lucas fought them off, but Chrissy broke an arm and a leg and Max broke both her legs and Lucas has this big black eye.”

Steve is speechless for a second, trying to imagine how scary that must have been. They knew the basketball team was out there, but none of them had really seen them as that big of a threat, but now two of his favorite girls got hurt, not to mention Lucas. God, he must be terrified.

Another thought pops into his head and he asks: “Why aren’t you with Chrissy right now? Not- not I don’t appreciate it, god knows I do, but-”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve,” Robin cuts him off, looking tense and emotional. “Of course I’m going to be here with you, you fucking dingus. You collapsed. It could have been horrible and your wounds could have been infected or something could have gone wrong with your fluids and- Fuck, you’re my best friend, Steve. I’m not going to leave you by yourself. Not when Dustin is sitting outside Eddie’s room like a kicked puppy and Lucas is guarding over Max and Chrissy is being smothered by her mother who want to kill me with their glare-y little eyes.”

If he’s honest, Steve feels like he’s kicked in the solar plexus by her rant. He knows they’re inseparable and he means a lot to her, like she does to him, but it’s nice to hear it anyway.

He squeezes her hand and softly says: “Thank you, Robs. I’m glad your here with me. I’m okay, though, I promise.”

“You better be, I’m not losing you,” Robin tells him, squeezing his hand, before fucking it and just climbing into the bed with him and glomping to him like a suction cup.

“You’re not,” Steve promises her, planning to keep it if he can help it. He never wants to make Robin upset ever again.

They sit in the quiet for a second, before Robin quietly catches him up on everything that has happened since he got to the hospital. She and Nancy destroyed Vecna and had to make a run for it to get through the gate before it closed again. Then Dustin told them where Eddie and Steve had gone, so they walked to the lake where Steve’s car was still parked and took that to the hospital where they ran into Erica and Lucas.

After that it was rushing to get information on everyone, before doctors banned them and waiting until people had woken up. Robin stayed with Chrissy for a little bit, but fled when her parents got there, because they were convinced Robin had lead Chrissy into a life of teen rebellion which had ended in her getting hurt.

A silver lining is that Jason had gotten arrested for assault and illegal possession of a gun, the thundercloud that offset this is that Eddie, while unconscious, is chained to his bed and has a police officer posted outside that isn’t allowing anyone in to see him.

“They think they finally caught him. He’s as good as guilty in their eyes,” Robin says.

Steve seethes. Eddie nearly died to protect his town, was ready to die for these people, who have never cared about him. It’s just wrong.

“I’m gonna fucking clear his name,” Steve says as he sits up. “Get me a nurse so I can get out of here and pennies. I have calls to make.”

“What. Steve, wait. How are you going to do that?” Robin asks, tripping as she follows Steve out of the bed.

His wounds are now stitched instead of taped shut and properly bandaged. After running for his life and fighting with them, walking around is no problem for Steve, especially now that he is on a warpath. He only just got Eddie back into his life, he’s not loosing him to prison over a crime he didn’t commit.

A nurse in the hall recognizes him and gasps: “Mr. Harrington, you should really get back in bed and let us check you over.”

“I feel fine, Miss,” he smiles at her, teeth sharp.

Robin, who is still trailing behind him, worriedly says: “Maybe you should listen to her.”

Steve sighs and asks: “If I get checked out, will you let me go? I’m sure I don’t need further observation, right?”

“Probably not,” the nurse assures him, likely relieved that he’s not walking around with an IV still in his hand.

Indeed doctors and nurses poke at him for a little bit, throughout which Steve white knuckles Robin’s hand, before releasing him. Neither of them are a big fan of doctors or being poked after their stint with the Russians.

Once officially free, Steve powers onto his car. He knows that if he takes a moment to stop, he’ll crash and they’re not done yet. He can’t crash. Robin, while concerned about him, does nothing to stop him, instead tagging along with him as he drives to his cabin.

She is still a little quiet, but she keeps up a steady enough stream off chatter that Steve doesn’t feel like he is going to vibrate out of his mind. Without Robin, he doesn’t know where he’d be.

When they arrive to his cabin, it’s still in disarray just like they left it what feels like ages ago, but is only a three days ago. It’s like a punch in the gut, to see his safe space like this. Another thing the Upside Down has taken from him. God, these fuckers are going to pay.

He ignores the overturned chair and open drawers, as well as all the stuff that is spread around on the floor as he makes his way to the room he frequents the least.

Hopper’s old room had been spared most of the damage, which Steve is grateful for. It is the one thing he is able to do for El, he’s not going to fail her by letting some stupid hooligans ruin it. But there is still some chaos and he hopes that what he is looking for, is still there.

Carefully he closes a few opened drawers, until he comes to the bottom of the nightstand. He takes out the bible lying there, one of the few things that has remained unharmed, and opens it up. In it a piece of paper with a phone number on it still resides.

“What’s that?” Robin asks curiously.

“A phone number of an important person at the ministry of defense,” Steve informs her with a sharp grin.

Robin’s eyes grow wide and she tries to stop him as he attempts to leave Hopper’s room. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second, Steve. Isn’t that dangerous? Maybe you shouldn’t be picking fights with people like that?”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Steve tells her. “But you can walk away and not know anything, that’s fine. Totally fine. Robs, I don’t want you to put yourself in danger over me. Just go sit o the porch and I’ll be there.”

“No,” Robin says, squaring her shoulders in a way that is similar to Starcourt, when she refused to leave him to hold the door alone. She gives him a shaky smile and goes on: “I’m not leaving you, dingus. You can’t pick a fight with the government without me.”

Steve grins back to her at that and goes to get the phone. He sits through a few rounds of bureaucracy before the person he needs to speak to picks up. Pleasantly, he greets: “Hello, you’re speaking with Steve Harrington.”

“Why should I care?” the gruff voice of the military commander returns. Good, military men often aren’t familiar with the shark businessmen Steve grew up with

“You don’t know who I am?” he exclaims, making his voice sound surprised, but still light. “I am a Hawkins residence. I don’t know if you are aware of what has been going on in this town, but it isn’t great and I know no one in your position would be happy if anyone, let’s say the press, happened to find out about. Remember how awkward it was when the rumors about Barbra Holland went around?”

“I don’t think you want to be playing this game, boy,” the man on the other end says. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

“Oh, but I know exactly who I’m messing with,” Steve informs him, cheerily, before letting his voice go cold. “And you don’t scare me. I got a witness listening, they know you’ve threatened me and if anything happens to me, they’ll come for you.”

Steve doesn’t actually know if Robin would, but she nods at him when he sends her a look. He has told her to be quiet and she is luckily listening.

“It’s not hard to find out who this witness is,” the military commander says.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Steve says. “But that doesn’t take away that six other people also know what I’m doing right now and this is a small town. People will talk if all eight of us were to disappear. And there are also the letters of course.”

“The letters?” the man asks, sounding less sure now.

“Yes, the letters,” Steve repeats. “I wrote them, detailing all that has really gone down since the lab set up shop here. I was in the base itself under Starcourt, I give details not released to the press. I know everything. They’re copied and multiple people have them ready to send to the press should anything – and I mean anything – happen to us. If I die in a car accident, you better make sure it’s airtight as an accident if you don’t want shit to happen.”

“Okay, I get your point, you think you can touch us,” the man huffs. “There must be a reason for you calling. Get to the point.”

Good, Steve thinks, he has hyped himself up enough to make the man nervous about what his demands might be. They’re going to be so low ball that he’s going to be relieved and just give in like it’s nothing.

“Eddie Munson is currently held in the hospital, he’s innocent of the murders. Clear his name,” Steve says. “Me, Max Mayfield and Chrissy Cunningham got injured along with Eddie. Pay our hospital bills. Compensate anyone involved. And I want Sam Wilson on this.”

“That’s it?” the man asks, surprised.

“Yes, that’s it,” Steve says. “I don’t ask for much and I’m not unreasonable. You have power, I know that, but me and my friends just went through hell for your mistakes, we’re not just going to let it cost us more.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the man promises.

“Not good enough,” Steve says. “I’m gonna go back to the hospital and make sure my friends are okay. If Eddie is not out of those handcuffs by tomorrow midnight, I’m going through with my threats. Don’t test me.”

Then he hangs up, not giving the man a chance to reply. He’s not willing to negotiate on this and he’s not letting them try.

It’s quiet for a second, the Robin softly says: “Holy shit, dingus. You were almost like cool right now.”

“Oh shut up,” he grins. “Let’s just get back to the hospital, I wanna make sure everyone is okay.”

“Can we go by the store on the way there?” Robin asks. “The hospital has terrible food and I promised Chrissy a picnic, even if we can’t go out, I’m not breaking that promise to her.”

Steve melts a little at that. Robin might be nervous about it all, but she has all the right building blocks to be a great girlfriend, with time and more confidence, she can be a real heart breaker. But Steve would prefer it if she and Chrissy are happy together. “Of course,” he says.

She brightens and skips to his car, getting in the front seat. Steve smiles at her back, things are looking up again and seeing her happy settles something in his chest. Like he can finally let all this shit go to focus on his friends and their well being.

As he slides into the car, Robin suddenly says: “I didn’t know you had those letters. Why didn’t you give me one.”

“Oh, I don’t have them,” Steve replies. “We probably should pick up some pens and paper so I can do that, eh?”

“Oh my god, Steve, are you insane?” Robin shrieks, spending the first part of the drive lecturing him about how dangerous that was, before panicking over what to get Chrissy for their hospital picnic date.

Steve tells her all he knows about Chrissy’s food preferences, wanting this to be a success. Hospital food is bad enough on its own, combining that with Chrissy’s food issues means that she’s even less likely to eat. Having Robin there will be good for her.

At the store, Steve also stocks up on snacks the kids like as well as optimistically picking up some things Eddie loves. He’s sure the other must wake up soon. The doctors said so.

Back in the hospital, he and Robin stand in the elevator as it slowly goes up. Both are anxious about elevators, but stairs aren’t in the cards for Steve right now. So they hold each other’s hand tightly and heave a big breath of relief when they step out of the elevator safely.

Immediately, Steve is almost bowled over by Dustin, who is screaming: “What the hell, Steve. Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was? I went to check up on you and your bed was empty and the doctors said you had gone. Gone! You didn’t even come tell me that you were okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve tells him, slinging an arm around Dustin. “I had a few things I had to do.”

“You still suck,” Dustin spats, stepping back and wiping his tears. “I hate you right now,” he tells Steve, before turning around and muttering: “I’m going back to Eddie.”

Steve stands in the hospital hallway in stunned silence. A lump lies heavy in his throat. He hadn’t even thought that Dustin would be coming to check up on him with Eddie in a worse state. He thought he would be back. Hell, he didn’t even think much about it, too caught up in his own anger at the situation.

Robin’s tentative hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it and he looks around. There are tears in his eyes and he must look quite pitiful, because Robin gathers him in his arms and softly whispers: “He just needs a moment. Emotions are high.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees a little dazed. “I’ll- I’ll give him a second to cool down. Let’s go and see the- the others.”

“Course,” Robin says, as she takes his hand and leads him to where Max is first.

Max is sleeping when he gets there. Her legs are in casts, but beyond that she looks like she’s just resting. Still, Steve has to repeat to himself that she’s fine as he slowly walks towards her.

Lucas spots him and flies out of his chair, exclaiming: “Steve! You’re okay.”

“I am,” Steve assures him, hugging Lucas, before pulling back so he can check him over. As Robin says, he has a nasty black eye, but he looks okay physically. However, physically doesn’t mean mentally, so he asks: “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Lucas tries to laugh, but it falls flat. He glances back at Max and sighs: “She got hurt. They both did. I was supposed to protect them and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Steve scolds gently. “From what I heard, you held your own against someone stronger than you, who was literally gunning for you guys. All of you are alive, Sinclair, that’s something to be proud of. Don’t beat yourself up.”

It seems like Lucas needed to hear that, because he collapses against Steve’s chest and lets out a few shuddering breaths. Steve just holds him tight and rocks him back and forth until Lucas starts to pull back.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Lucas chuckles wiping his eyes. “Thank you. I- I needed that.”

“There you are,” a voice says from behind them and when he turns Erica is standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Dustin was in a tizzy about it. He had me running around this hospital looking for you. What the hell were you thinking? You know he’s sensitive.”

Steve knows her well enough to hear that she has been worried too, but he doesn’t point it out. He instead chooses to hug her and say: “I’m glad you’re okay, Erica.”

Erica hugs back: “I’m glad you’re okay too. What happened out there?”

“Eddie did something stupid and bats still suck,” Steve informs her with a crooked grin, hoping she’ll take it in the lighthearted way he means it.

“Of course Eddie did something stupid,” she rolls her eyes.

“You okay?” he asks, because she’s just a kid and has been caught up in this.

“Y- Yeah, I am,” Erica answers, not looking in his eyes as she shrugs: “Had to beat up some dumb jock that thought he could come for me, but nothing big.”

It sounds big, but she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Steve isn’t going to push just yet either, so he just offers: “Okay, if you ever need something, come to me, yeah? Or Lucas. We got your back.”

“Thanks,” she smiles, before skipping over to Max’s bedside and checking up on her. Then she settles down in one of the chairs with a thick book and starts reading.

“Where’s Nance?” he asks, realizing he hasn’t seen her since he accidentally came out to her at the Creel house and suddenly worried about what that might mean.

“Mike managed to get through, he and the others have been through a lot. They’re flying in and Nancy has gone to get them,” Lucas answers, brow pinched. “She didn’t say more than that, except that they were all alive.”

That’s a silver lining at least and Steve is glad that he doesn’t have to fare her yet. So, he smiles at Lucas and hands him all the snacks he got for the three of them, before he says: “They’ll be okay. I am going to check up on Chrissy and Eddie. Tell Max I came by when she wakes up?”

“Sure, yeah, of course, Steve,” Lucas says. “Thank you.”

He makes his way over to Chrissy’s room, which is only a few doors down and marked by Robin, who is waving at him.

Chrissy is also in casts, looking small and frail. Steve hates it. However, she’s wake and tiredly smiling at Steve as she eats a strawberry from the pile of food Robin brought her. She smiles when he enters and greets: “Hi, Stevie.”

“Hi, Chris,” he greets back, smile also creeping onto his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Kind of terrible,” she admits. “Breaking bones hurts and I’m pretty sure my parents hate me, but you know, I’m alive. And Robin here is making it better.”

“That sucks,” Steve says, sitting down next to her for a second. “You can always come stay with me if it all sucks. I got your back… After I replace the locks at least.”

Chrissy snorts, even though it’s not really funny. However, if they don’t laugh about it, they’re going to break down. So, laughing it is. “I might take you up on that,” she smiles.

“Door’s always open,” Steve says. Then he glances at Robin on the other side and says: “But I’ll leave you two, don’t wanna crash.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Chrissy assures him. “I’m sure Robs won’t mind. You shouldn’t be alone right now. None of us should.”

Steve thinks of Dustin alone with an unconscious Eddie and his heart constricts. So, he gets up and assures them: “I won’t be alone. I’m gonna keep Dustin and Eddie company. I- I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

Both Chrissy and Robin send him knowing looks and he promises to tell them about the confession among the bats soon, but he’s still worried now, still needs to process. A part of him doesn’t even want to go see Eddie, doesn’t want to see him like that, doesn’t want to make it real, but he knows he has to go, to process and for Dustin.

He gets the room number from Robin and says his goodbyes, promising them that he’ll be back before telling them to have fun, but not too much fun. The latter gets him screamed at (playfully but still) and he flees the room with a grin.

Then he goes over to Eddie’s room- well, the hallway in front of Eddie’s room. There is a cop in the room by the door, guarding the entrance, while Dustin is sitting on the ground across from him, looking smaller than he has the right to.

Steve’s heart constricts and he slowly makes his way over to Dustin, sliding down on the ground next to him and sitting there in silence for a moment. Dustin doesn’t acknowledge him and Steve didn’t expect him too.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while, breaking the silence. “I should have come by and told you I was okay before leaving. It wasn’t cool of me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Dustin says, still looking down, but at least not giving him the cold shoulder. “I don’t know if you remember this, but both of you were hurt and you left me there to wait for Robin and Nancy. I got here and you were knocked out. It was fucking scary, you asshole.”

“Fuck, man, I’m so sorry,” Steve apologizes again, the guilt eating him up inside. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he never considered how Dustin must have felt.

“You better be,” Dustin says. “Robin told me she would watch you, so I could check up on Eddie and then you’re both gone. Where did you even go?”

It’s a little fucked up how touched Steve is that Dustin didn’t abandon him completely to worry over Eddie. Though, he does recognize that Eddie needs someone to be there too. He is glad that he can be here now, with Dustin.

“I picked up snacks,” he tells Dustin, offering him a nougat bar. “And we went to try and clear Eddie’s name.”

Dustin drops that snack he just got and exclaims: “What! How?”

“Hopper still had a number to call in his drawer,” Steve explains softly, so no one can eavesdrop on their conversation. “I called the ministry of defense and threatened them into clearing Eddie’s name and cleaning up after themselves.”

“What the fuck,” Dustin whispers, staring at Steve with wide eyes. “That is so cool. Why didn’t I get to come?”

Steve blushes. He can feel it. He confesses: “I kind of stormed out of the hospital in anger and drove home so I could make the call.” He holds up the notepad. “I kind of still have to write the blackmail letters I told them I have, but I won’t need them if they keep their word and let Eddie out of those cuffs by the end of tomorrow.”

“We’re gonna be able to see him?” Dustin asks, voice fragile and filled with awe.

At the reaction, Steve can feel his own heart break. Dustin fucking loves Eddie. He’s heard so much about the other from Dustin as well as Eddie. He must be just as – if not more – upset at being unable to see Eddie. Steve at least got to tell him all he meant to him, do something about not being able to see him, while Dustin has sat here, helpless.

“Yeah, man, we’re gonna be able to see him,” he smiles at Dustin in a manner he hopes is assuring, before throwing an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close. “And he’s gonna wake up too and we can tell him how much of an idiot he is and how glad we are he’s still alive.”

Dustin leans back against Steve gratefully as he thanks him, before they fall into a short silence that is broken when Dustin comments: “You and Eddie seem to have gotten close. I totally thought you’d be with Chrissy right now.”

Now, Steve has come to a point where he needs to make a choice. He could tell Dustin he’s just here to support him, because he knows what Eddie means to him. But Eddie is still on the other side of that door, still knocked out and Steve is not planning to leave his side, except to go see Chrissy and Max. That will raise some eyebrows from the kids, probably.

So, he takes a deep breath and says: “That’s because I do. Care a lot, I mean. Uhm, it’s a bit of a long story, but I’ve been friends with Eddie since the summer.”

“You what!” Dustin shrieks, making a passing nurse glare at them as she shushes them. They balefully do, but the second she’s moving away, Dustin moves to sit on his knees so he can glare at Steve as he demands: “What the hell!”

“I told you it was a long story,” Steve says.

“We have time,” Dustin glares back. “I tried to convince you for months to give Eddie a chance and you were hanging out behind my back. How is that fair? Why would you lie to me?”

“Calm down, Henderson, I’ll tell you,” Steve replies, managing to get him out of his face as he starts to explain: “We already knew each other in school, talked here and there, but nothing substantial. We got talking when I got the cabin, he helped me fix my roof and then it kind of spiraled from there.”

“And then you decided not to tell me you were friends when I told you about him?” Dustin pouts, obviously still upset about it.

“Well, yes, but no,” Steve says, wondering how he could explains this. “He came by at Family Video to tell me that he met you all and I had heard from you, but I didn’t really know if we were friends back then, so I didn’t want to say it and then have Eddie say we weren’t, but then we had this idea to prank you guys by pretending not to know each other and then I’d invite him to new years and we’d act like normal and confuse the shit out of you all.”

“But Eddie didn’t come to new years,” Dustin points out, brow furrowed as he tries to put the puzzle pieces together.

“No, he didn’t,” Steve sighs and leans his head against the wall behind him, looking up at the ceiling above him. “We had a fight before Christmas. I ran into my father, it sucked and then I lashed out against Eddie, said some things I shouldn’t. We didn’t speak to each other until the boathouse.”

Dustin is silent and Steve waits as he lets him process it all. He never meant for it to get this far, to lie to Dustin about it. But at the time it seemed like his chance with Eddie had passed and he would never get to be close to him again, so why bother filling Dustin in about something he still felt guilty about.

“Did you make up again?” Dustin asks softly after a second.

“Yeah, we did,” Steve answers, lolling his head to look at Dustin as he gives him a smile. They did more than make up and he’s sure he looks a little bit like an idiot, but he doesn’t care.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” Dustin says and he looks so genuine about him. God, Dustin can be an arrogant little shit, but he has a heart of gold and always has the best intentions.

Steve loves this kid so much. He was his first genuine friend he made after ditching Carol and Tommy in junior year and he’s been by Steve’s side for so long. He doesn’t want to keep lying to him. He’s so tired of it. He hadn’t realized how much it was all weighing on him, until he told Dustin the truth.

“Hey, Dustin,” he speaks up again, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

Dustin makes a surprised noise when Steve uses his first name instead of his last name, before he replies: “Yes, Steve?”

“Can I tell you something else?” Steve asks.

“Of course,” Dustin says, with a tone that asks why that isn’t obvious to Steve.

Fuck, this guy is annoying and Steve loves the shit out of him. However, this isn’t light stuff, but something that can put Steve in danger. Actual danger. So, he looks intently at him as he says: “You have to promise not to tell anyone, even if friends don’t lie. It’s important. Do you get that? Do you still want to know?”

“You’re scaring me, Steve,” Dustin replies. “Are you in danger? What’s going on?”

“I’m not in danger, no one is,” Steve promises. “It just can’t reach the wrong people, but if you don’t tell, it’s going to fine. It might even be fine if you do tell, but I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even know if you’re safe to tell, I’m just risking it.”

Dustin frowns at that and says: “You can tell me anything.”

“Thank you, man,” Steve smiles, before checking again: “Want to know?”

“Yes, please,” Dustin quickly replies.

Steve looks at the closed door opposite to them. Eddie is behind that, with no other company except a fucking cop. Steve wants to be in there, wants to be holding his hand, wants to whisper it’s okay, even if Eddie might not hear him, just in case he does. It’s that thought that gives him strength to actually do it, nerves running rampant despite it all.

“I- I’m gay,” he confesses, not having said those words in a long time, not even to himself. “I have a crush on Eddie, I’m in love with him. I’m gay. It’s why I won’t date Chrissy or Robin and why I wasn’t making a move on Nance. They know too, by the way.”

Next to him, Dustin is quiet. Steve doesn’t dare to look at him, barely dares to breathe. He doesn’t want to turn his head and know how Dustin looks when he stares at him in disgust, because that’s what this silence must mean.

He feels a touch to his arm and instinctively flinches away, waiting to get hit, but instead Dustin’s arms come around him.

It takes Steve a second to realize he’s being hugged.

Then it takes him a second longer to respond, but when he does it is to hug Dustin tightly. The two of them clinging to one another in the hallway of a hospital. Dustin softly, but fiercely says: “Thank you so much for telling me, oh my god, Steve. That’s- I’m here for you. I’m always going to be here for you.”

Steve is man enough to admit he starts crying a little at that. Silent tears streaming down his face, because this is his kid, this is Dustin and Dustin is going to have his back. They’re going to make it through this together. Steve is not loosing more people. Not today.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, voice more shaky than he cares to admit, but Dustin luckily doesn’t comment on it.

After a few minutes the two of them let go and go back to sitting back against the wall, sitting shoulder to shoulder to get comfort from the other. They share a comfortable silence, neither of them wanting or needing to say more. Steve feels as if he’s gotten rid of a weight that has been haunting him.

He knows that he didn’t have to come out in order to feel like he was done lying, but it is nice, he must admit. Because he did it for himself. He did it, because he wants to sit with Eddie, because he wants to give them a try, because he wants to stop trying to be what he parents want him to be. They have never cared, he knows that and still he let them get to him. He vows he will never let them do that again.

It’s not like he can live freely and out, but he can at least stop pretending, stop dragging girls he’ll never be into on dates, instead he can sneak around with Eddie, go on picnics or star gazing, finally watch him perform. That sounds much better.

The two of them remain seated in front of Eddie’s room as they wait for him to be free. Their dinner exists of the snacks Steve picked up and some bread a kind nurse donated to them when she saw them sitting there.

Steve doesn’t think he can sleep, but manages to get a few minutes here and there, while Dustin softly snores against his arm.

The next morning Dustin’s mother takes him home, only getting him to agree when she promises he can come right back after a shower and proper lunch, while Steve flees to Chrissy’s room to sleep in the chair next to her bed.

He feels kind of bad for fleeing when he saw Wayne coming to try and see Eddie through the window. Doesn’t know what he would say to the man, if Eddie told him about their friendship, their fight. If he will hate Steve or think he’s a stranger, if he will assume he’s here to hate Eddie some more.

After a refreshing nap, which had been too deep for nightmares, he returns to sit across from Eddie’s room. Dustin is already there, waiting for him. Together they write his blackmail letters, planning to print them by dinner, should nothing have happened.

Then, at 5:36 PM, a lady in a stern suit comes walking through the hall, followed by a few burly men. Her heels click menacingly, before she comes to a stop in front of Dustin and Steve. She looks down at them and greets: “Mr. Harrington, Mr. Henderson, I’m agent Johnson, I’m send here by Dr. Owens to help.”

Steve scrambles to his feet and reaches out to shake her hand: “Thank you so much. We’re here to help if you need anything.”

Agent Johnson cocks her head and says: “You’re more agreeable than I’d been warned. Why the change of tune?”

“Oh, ah,” Steve blushes. “I never wanted to pick a fight. I’ve just had a horrible week and just woke up from collapsing to find out that my friend, who nearly died to save everyone, has been taken in for a crime he did not commit. I just need to see if he’s okay.”

His answer seems to have pleased the agent and she turns to enter the room. Anxiously Dustin and Steve wait, before she comes back out with the police officer and says: “You can go in now. If you give me a list of names, I can ensure your friends are also able to see him. Agent Ross here will be making sure he’s okay.”

They thank her again, then quickly enter the room. There Eddie is. He looks pale, small, fragile, lacking the life and animation that usually infuses him. But he is alive. He’s breathing. He might have a tube going under his nose and machinery everywhere, but there is no more blood, no more pain.

Steve stumbles forward as in a trance. He stares at Eddie for a second, then slowly reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, the action finally feels like it’s allowed. He chuckles to himself, then cries as he takes Eddie hand and collapses into a chair next to him.

Eddie’s here. He’s safe.

~~

A/N:

I think it’s so funny that Steve decides to just pick a fight with the government. This man has no sense of self preservation and will lie <3

[tartarusknight]

I don't know what you're hunting. It's not me, it's something else - part 7/10

Also on ao3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7: the waves are washing hope right out of me

Nancy's hands felt tacky as they sat in the waiting room. Waiting on Sam Owens to come out. She couldn't tear her eyes away from them, though. Not when she it was Robin's blood. Robin, the girl she had gotten to know quite well. When Nancy first met Robin, she thought the girl was kind of annoying and loud but soon, she began to enjoy having her around. 

Against all odds, Nancy thought that they could become good friends. Not the level of friends that Steve and Robin were. But Robin had been at her side in the Upside Down and against Vecna. She had spent days at her house after everything, confiding in her. And something inside of Nancy had felt like it was being healed around her.

She hadn't understood exactly how until Nancy had seen the shiny eyes behind Robin hidden in the dark of the Harrington house. Before Robin had jumped with her into the Upside Down. For a single moment, Nancy stared at the monster coming up behind Robin and thought that she couldn't lose another friend to this shit. She refused to lose Robin the same way she lost Barb.

She had been ready to hold the door shut for Robin. To give her a fighting chance as Steve's voice tried to break something inside of Robin. And as they ran, Nancy just needed her to be okay. If she wasn't, it would be Nancy's fault. Because Robin had come back for Nancy even when she could've gone with the boys. She could've been safe with the boys.

Only as they saw the van and Nancy moved, prepared for Robin to follow her like she had been all night, Robin froze. Nancy had turned in the van, looking back, ready to catch Robin's own tumble into the van. However, instead, Robin was still in the middle of the road. Her eyes locked onto the mutated form of Steve.

Nancy couldn't even yell fast enough before Steve was rushing at her. She watched the eyes of Robin, so scared but she didn't try to hurt Steve back. Like even as Steve's face ripped open to bite into her neck, she would never hurt a hair on Steve's head. Like she couldn't imagine it.

Nancy wanted to scream as El threw Steve back. She just launched herself out of the van to Robin's side. Her hands slipped in the blood pouring from her wounds. Nancy couldn't focus on anything but trying to keep her steady, keep her alive. Yet, even as Robin reached out and took her hand like it was the easiest thing to do, Nancy failed her.

She failed because Robin's eyes drifted from Nancy's. Robin's hand which had reached out so many times since she came into Nancy's life, had gone limp in hers. It made Nancy's hands, covered in Robin's blood feel wrong. In the end, Robin, loud, loveable Robin, could barely get a single word out.

Rabies. That's what Robin's final word was. She didn't get to ramble or say how she was feeling, she just said  Rabies. Nancy picked at the blood under her fingernails. Even as the rest of her was still covered in the blood. She remembered Robin's frantic rambles about rabies as Steve stood shirtless and barefooted in the Upside Down. The bites from the bats bleeding, dripping down his sides.

The bat bites. The bats. She tensed up as something connected in her mind. Eddie and Steve had both been bitten.

“Hopper, come with me,” Owens offered as he finally reached their group. Nancy stood too fast, her vision blurring a little, but she was unwilling to be left behind. Hopper didn't fight it, his own face grim. “What happened?” Owens asked, looking at the group that refused to stay behind.

Nancy cleared her throat, “Steve and Eddie must have changed because of the bat bites they both suffered in the Upside Down. We didn't realize but Steve's house was covered in new and old blood. That has to mean that this isn't the first night he changed. He's right in the middle of the area that's been being 'hunted' and I think it's because he's changing at night.” She stated and only took a fresh breath of air before she continued on.

She explained finding Steve's car and heading home. Then how she drove out to catch up to the others. How they decided to walk to Steve's house to stay quiet. How Robin had stopped in the forest just before they heard Eddie. Then how Eddie had lunged but Robin stopped him with a Molotov. Nancy had taken the rest of the Molotov's and sent everyone back to the car.

“But she- she came back for me. I had barely managed to lose Eddie, and only because I shot him in his wings-”

“Wings?” Owens asked and Nancy ignored it because that wasn't the most important part of it all.

“Rob- Robin and I ran to Steve's house to seek shelter. However, we heard shit upstairs and I just wanted to keep her safe. But I noticed a gate in his pool where Barb went missing in 83 and it- I got distracted. I saw something following behind her and before I could say anything I was pulled into the Upside Down, Robin followed me in.”

Nancy's entire body was shaking but she refused to let it stop her. “I knew if we exited that gate the creature I only saw a glimpse of, which I believed at the time was Eddie, he'd be able to catch us. So, I pulled her further into the Upside Down. Only he followed after us and there wasn't enough time. We barely were able to shut a door behind us before Steve was trying to get in.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders itching up to her ears. “Trying to get in?” Hopper asked and Nancy nodded.

“He kept saying- begging Robin to let him in that he was sorry for scaring her.” Nancy shivered and looked down at her bloody hands. “I don't know what he said that had Robin sure not to let him in. It sounded- it was like it was really him out there.” She admitted and someone pulled her over to a chair.

“How did you get out of the Upside Down?” Joyce asked and Nancy sighed.

“After Steve slammed into the door Robin took the chance and we climbed out the window and went through the pool. Then we were running, and I thought we were going to- but we- I didn't.” Her voice caught and she was shaking even harder.

She watched as Owens looked down at a paper on his desk for a moment. “That raises a few questions,” Owen says and moves over to the blackboard. “So, we know that the Upside Down works like a-”

“Hive mind,” Dustin states and he looks determined.

Owens nods, “But now it also spreads by bite.”

“Because they were both attacked by the bats?” Jonathan questioned.

Owens nodded, “Yes, my point exactly. There's not enough evidence to prove exactly why they turned. If Eddie Munson actually died from the bites. Or if Steven survived them himself.” He said and Nancy frowned.

“Like if Steve died?” Dustin questioned and Owens nodded. “That's ridiculous! Of course, he survived! He was with us!”

Owens sighed, “I am not- were you there with him any of the past nights? Did he keep up with his wound care? Those bites were infected when you all brought in Maxine, but he refused to let anyone treat him that first day on account of all of the others that had been hurt in the earthquake. I am just saying, that without anyone with him at all times, we don't know if the infection killed him.”

The possibilities circled around her. “Or it's just like  rabies,” Jonathan said. Robin's last word swirling in Nancy's mind.

Owens nodded, “Yes. Or it's like rabies. But if tonight was not the first time Steve shifted, then we have to assume he's still there.” The scientist sighed, “I don't have a scientific reason for why he would only be like this at night or any of it.”

“So, like, he's like Teen Wolf?” Argyle questioned.

Owens looked at Argyle with a long-suffering sigh, “I suppose you could make the connection.”

“So, what can we do?” El asked and it was the first time she spoke since Nancy heard her over the radio.

Owens set down his piece of chalk, “I don't truly know. There's the possibility that if left alone, you might be able to find your friends in their right frame of mind in the morning. However, there is a possibility that isn't true. That something has only been posing as your friend Steve during the day. That he's not there at all anymore.”

“What if they're possessed, like I was?” Will asked, “If they're possessed, we could try to burn it out of them.” He said and Owens didn't look like he agreed but he also didn't argue.

“The best course of action is for me to call the one in charge of the military to launch their attack on Henry Creel. In hope that if we kill the head, it'll put a stop to all of this.” Owens stated and Nancy hated that they weren't involved in the plan. Or maybe she liked the idea of not being involved in the plan.

“Or it'll kill Eddie and Steve!” Dustin argued and all Owens did was nod.

“So, we set out and lock them down. We get them somewhere to sweat out the heat. That way, when Vecna dies, it wouldn't kill them.” Joyce stated and she looked over at all of them. “We have to try, right?”

“We don't know if put in the same room, the two of them wouldn't kill each other,” Owens stated and Nancy shook her head.

“Yeah, we do, Steve called for backup when El showed up. Eddie was coming to help him fight us. They aren't enemies,” Nancy states, feeling confident in her theory.

“The last time we tried to fight the creatures from what you call the Upside Down, they didn't go down easily.” Owens sighed, and Nancy figured the man aged years every time they spoke to him.

“We just can't use piercing damage, it barely does anything. Slashing, fire, or even acid would be best.” Will says and then clears his throat, “Sorry.”

Owens smiled, “No. I suppose you are right, Will.”

“Give me a moment and I'll call someone to bring Miss Buckley to the morgue. Jim, would you like to call the military or would you like me to?” Hopper was quick to offer his services. Owens looked back to the rest of them. “Feel free to wait in Maxine's room,” He offered.

The others stood, ready to no doubt join the Sinclairs in Max's room as Dustin muttered, “It's Max, not Maxine,” under his breath.

They all move and find Erica asleep in one of the chairs, Lucas awake and reading to Max quietly in the other. He stopped as they came in. His eyes grew wide as he took in their appearances. Nancy wished she could wipe the blood from her hands. Instead, she leaned against the wall under Jonathan's arm. They had to wait. Wait for what might not even work. She couldn't help feeling like they were missing something. That there was a flaw in their plan.

Joyce moved to brush a piece of hair out of Max's face but froze when she saw the state of her hands. “Why don't we all go wash up?” She offered but no one moved. Her eyes moved around until she settled on Jonathan.

Jonathan gently pulled Nancy from the wall. She blinked up at him, but he wasn't watching her. “Come on, when we get back we can plan some more.” He promised and Nancy wanted to argue that they should keep planning now. They should explain it to Lucas and plan.

However, she didn't fight it. She let Jonathan lead her away and to the bathroom. Joyce and Eleven followed her into the girls' room as Jonathan split off. She noticed Lucas following the boys, asking what happened. Joyce gently took El's hands and began to help her wash the blood away. Nancy turned the water as hot as it could go and hoped it would stop her mind from replaying how warm Robin's blood had felt against her hands.

“Nancy, hon,” Joyce's voice broke through the fog in Nancy's mind. She blinked and looked over at the older woman. “You're going to make yourself bleed if you keep scrubbing.” She says and gently pulls Nancy's hands from the sink. Nancy looks down and realizes that her hands are clean, if not a little pink from the rough treatment. “You're alright, you're clean.” She murmurs gently and Nancy kind of wants to push back, saying that it's not okay. None of this was okay.

Instead, she barely holds back a sob as Joyce dries her hands. “It's gonna be hard for a while, I don't know how long. But we're going to go out there and make Henry Creel regret ever taking my boy into his world.” Her voice is hard and Nancy nods.

She takes a deep breath and pulls her hands back, “I wish I killed him the first time.” She says and it sounds too dark, but Joyce only looks understanding.

“Then let's go make the final adjustments to a plan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nancy feels changed as she exits the bathroom. Her spine straight and her face hard. She argues with fury as Hopper tries to keep them safe and make them stay at the hospital. They were going to go out there and fight for their friends. They were going to kill Henry and make sure that he wishes he picked a different town to target.

All of them were fighting for their friends. For the ones they lost. With quick-made plans, the party is setting out to find Steve and Eddie as the military with Hopper and El head into the Upside Down to take down Vecna. It wasn't the best plan in all honesty. But Owens had a point that if Henry had formed the Mindflayer to his wants and desires, it had the possibility of ending with Henry. Nancy was worried about hurting her friends, but she was determined to do something. And with a reused prison transport van turned into a drivable sauna, they were ready.

Nancy watched Erica, who was ordered to stay here and keep an eye on Max, as she talked quietly with Lucas. She was basically hugging herself and looked scared as Lucas put a hand on her shoulder. The siblings didn't look used to being so open with each other and it made Nancy glance over to Mike. However, she knew that if she said something to Mike, it would feel too much like goodbye.

So, she picked up her shotgun, uncaring if someone noticed the too-short barrel, and headed out of the hospital. The others joined her quickly, ready for this all to be over. She let Jonathan get into the driver's seat and Joyce took the passenger's seat. She chose to sit back with the kids in the humid room that was turning into a sauna as they drove.

“If it comes down to it, remember to protect yourself. We aren't sure if the boys- just fight back. Don't let them attack you.” Nancy ordered, unable to forget the way Robin didn't even shove at Steve. She didn't fight him at all. “I know you love them but right now they aren't themselves, they're basically feral.” She stated and no one argued with her. However, she also didn't hear anyone agree with her.

They came to a stop at the end of Steve's driveway. Nancy hopped out and only faltered a moment as she saw the blood smeared on the tar. But she pushed past it, putting on a front for the kids as they got out as well. Joyce had a grip on a big taser as they handed out a few syringes with the drugs that could put them to sleep.

Their plan was half-baked, and Nancy knew they wouldn't get out of this unscathed, but they didn't have the time to be safe about it. Not when El was going to end it as they speak. Not when there was a chance that they'd die the moment Vecna did. The fact that they were no doubt, tied onto the hivemind.

“Steve!” Dustin was the first to yell but soon the rest of them began to make noise. Nancy took a small pocketknife and looked over to Jonathan as they brought it down, letting their blood drip down. Hopefully calling the boys to them.

A shriek in the distance had Nancy tensing but she only readied herself to fight.

Events unfolding I can't understand and when I try, it falls right through my hands (Climax - Djo)

Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Tags: @ellietheasexylibrarian@nburkhardt@artiststarme@flowers-that-sing@juleswashere3@indiearr@remosdeerica

[withoneheadlight]

I’m s o r r y but I made myself sad over this one so naturally I’m here to share the pain

Okay so I was thinking about the alternate timelines//realities thing and what if there’s a universe where Billy dies, and a universe where Steve dies,, and somehow they meet ~maybe in the Upside Down???~ and Steve is like 🥺 b i l l y,,, but Billy can’t deal with it??? Like, “you’re A Steve, but you’re not MY Steve”

| quick heads up!: mentions of death and mourning ahead |

.

Ahhhhhh, Kelly!. Bring the pain, bring the pain, we’ll deal with it together, cry together, blow our noses together! 😢😢

i’ve been having my mind full of that alt timelines/realities idea these last few days, and that’s surely the reason why that’s what I saw in your beautiful 3-sentence fic, both because a post i saw about one of the boys dying (i can’t find it now. please human who posted it, tell me if it was yours!) and bc of this marvel @edith-moonshadow (<3) wrote in one of my posts. and then you sent me this ask and wrote that fantastic piece and-- IT'S ALL BEEN VERY COSMIC AND PLANETARY ALINGTMENLY and i didn’t want to make myself sadder or make you sadder but,

,

I can imagine how it’d go. Both of them trapped on the upside-down. Both of them bleeding out. Sliced down as they are, right through the middle. Half a Billy and half a Steve, the wound still fresh with the part they’re missing and I imagine they could barely stand it, right at the beginning, the mere sight of that other that’s not― That’ just not. What was once love rotting into hate, into feeling trapped, doomed, to live in this cage with the constant reminder of their loss.

And Billy’d miss the way Steve used to roll his eyes at him, and the way Steve used to sigh all dramatic like ‘God, Billy Hargrove, you’re too much for me I swear’ but would then wink and pull him close and steal a kiss, voice falling low to smile a ‘Definitely way more than I deserve’ into his mouth. Would miss the way Steve used to brush his hair to the side, bite at the curve of his neck, and words, they always sounded better when Steve traced them against the shell of his ear ‘Tell me I’m your pretty boy’ he’d say and Billy would tell him, would try to catch his lips but ‘Ah-ah’ and Steve’d shake his head, brush their lips together ‘First babe, you gotta tell me how much I love you’, holding him tight and not letting him go ‘till Billy would get over the way his cheeks were blushing, and tell him. But―

This Steve. This Steve doesn’t love this Billy. Doesn’t love Billy. This Steve gets mad and yells at him when Billy’s been ‘Too fucking much, I swear! You’re too fucking much’ and it hurts, when he puts his hands on his hips and looks exactly like his Steve. And it hurts even worse, when he sets his jaw and looks wrong and like somebody else completely (And it hurts even worseworseworse, when he finally says it, what they both think. When he opens up those pretty lips Billy used to kiss, to love, those pretty lips that used to say ‘I love you’: “Of all the monsters in here, you’re the only one that gives me nightmares”).

This Steve never calls him by his name. This Steve doesn’t look him in the eye. This Steve hates him.

And weeks pass, and months pass, and they repel each other, can't stand each other but ―they can’t, either, even if none of them ever says it, bear the idea of splitting apart. And Steve’s house is not Steve’s house, but it makes do, with its walls re-painted in horrors and damp seeping through the floral wallpaper of the hallway his mama used to be so proud of. And there’s mold growing in the mattress and invisible night-terrors that bite living in the blankets and it gets cold at night. Cold and lonely and hopeless. And Steve doesn't want to and Billy doesn't want to but. They sleep together. Back to back. Touch only where they have to touch. Not to freeze (not to feel. Except they― ). Wake up together (like they used to). Steve's face buried in Billy's curls and the smell, the smell is the same. Exactly, perfectly, dishearteningly. The same. Right there, all along the tenderness at the curve of Billy’s (this. Not his. Thisthisthis. Never his) neck.

And weeks pass, and months pass, and it hurts. Every minute, every second and every tiny, tiny particle of time. Because this Billy is not Billy and Steve―

Steve’s missing a half. Steve’s an open wound and it doesn't matter how much alike they are, how much they feel (exactly, perfectly, dishearteningly) the same under Steve’s touch, because this Billy is another Steve's and he doesn't fit, and he wouldn’t ever heal, against his skin but― his blue eyes are the same and those curls of his look like they’ve forever captured the sun in the same way and his scars are gone but when the creatures hurt him and draw new ones Steve recognizes under his fingertips the familiar shapes of his back, the way Billy bleeds, the way his skin feels warmth against his palms and,

Billy.

Billy recognizes the way Steve touches him, the way he groans a "Be quiet for frikin’ once. And hold still!" but then, lower, softer, a whisper “Shhh. C’mon. Shhh. Just a second, alright? I promise I’ll be careful” and Billy does and bites down his tongue and the pain and the tears as Steve stitches the wound and Billy wants to ask him to sew his whole body, too, all along that wide wide line where it used to fit that half he’s missing, but what he says is "Would you kiss me once? Just once? So I can feel like I still have him?".

And it's the same. And it's different. And it's not Steve. But it is. Steve. And they kiss and Steve’s crying, because is thesamethesamethesame, the way Billy’s lashes are falling and Billy wants to say ‘I love you’, but he doesn't, and it becomes a lump in his throat as they kiss and kiss and kiss for hours, on that bed they’ve been sharing, that bed they’ve only been touching for survival, and when they're done, Billy wants to ask Steve to sew his lips together too. So he can’t ask him again. So he can not want to but― the nights are cold and lonely and hopeless. So they touch. And they kiss. And weeks pass. And they touch and they kiss and they fuck. And months pass. And they kiss and touch and fuck and fight. And they need each other. Want each other. Hate each other. Hate themselves. And then Steve says "I'll never love you. I'll never love you like I loved him" and Billy says "Neither I will”. And they’re both are bleeding. Been bleeding for so long. Bleeding out. And they won’t heal, a Billy-less and a Steve-less, as they are. So it spreads. The rot. And it's even worse like this, hating what there’s left of themselves. Because they don’t fit but it feels like they do, when they touch and they kiss and they fuck. When they fight.

(When it feels like love but― isn’t).

(Can’t be)

And weeks pass and months pass and neither of them says it (‘Wanna touch you again, kiss you again, fuck you again’), even though they're both thinking it and it’s been almost two and a half years. Five hundred days. Five hundred nights. Of hiding from each other, of finding each other in this endless night, when the dormant creatures start to crawl out of their nests, when the darkness is filled again with growls and howls and screeches. With danger. Vines coming back to life after their hundred years of sleep and then something’s coming something’s coming something’s coming and,

“Take all you can”

“Get the bat!”

“Run, Billy run!”

“Block the door! Block the door!”

“The head! Steve! Slam ‘m on the head!”

“Come on, come on, come on! Let’s get the shit outta here”

and then,

“The gate. Somebody must be opening the gate”

They find it.

Seven feet. That’s how far it is. That's how close they are from making it. And must be some kind of cosmic joke, so Billy laughs at it. Gives that one to the universe. Chokes on his own blood.

Steve’s blurred, less and less clear every time he blinks. Still the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen.

“C’mon, pretty boy” he says. Squeezes Steve's hand tighter. Just one second. It’s the end of the end of the world and Billy feels like he’s spent a whole lifetime like this. Stealing Steve Harrington in seconds. So he can steal one more. That’s always been the deal. Just a little more, a little more, since the moment he saw him “You know you hafta go”

Salt. Tears. That detail, Billy always forgets: they taste exactly like the ocean.

“Nah. I’m thinking that― they won't split us apart. Not this time”

Tears. Salt. The ocean on Steve’s lips. Taste like coming back. Coming Back home. But,

“It’s ok, pretty boy. I’m not him”

Steve shrugs. Smiles. Dots on the curve of his cheek. Eyes like the first day of fall. It’s in the curve of his lips, where Billy’s history has always been rewritten.

“But there was a me, that loved you. And there was a you, that loved me. And I guess it’s just impossible. Not to do it again so―” and words, they always sound better when Steve traces them against the shell of his ear, says,

“Can you kiss me? So I can know how it is to have you?”

And it’s the end of the end of the world.

(But,

Time Swirls. Space wraps around itself. Reality flickers. So maybe― maybe it really is. The end. But. Maybe,

There's a house. Steve’s house. And is not the same. But it’s not different, either. And there’s daylight pouring down the hallways, burning bright against that soft-gold wallpaper his mama’s always been so proud of. And the mattress is soft and warm and feels familiar. And the blankets smell like softener and old memories. Like new memories. Like us. Us.

“Tell me how much you love me”

Steve brushes Billy’s hair to the side, runs his lips all along the curve of his neck, leaves a kiss behind his ear. And it’s the same, but it’s different and Billy know it’s always, always gonna hurt. Because they’re still a Billy-less and a Steve-less but. They’re always gonna be a Billy one Steve loved, a Steve one Billy loved. They’re this Billy and this Steve.

But there’s this one thing, that’s always gonna be the same. This one thing neither of them would ever do in halves.

“I love you with all my heart,” he says, and draws Steve closer, closer, ‘till there’s barely any space left between them.

And they allow themselves to feel, where their wounds touch.

Allow themselves to love.)

[1980s-robin]

Pinkie Promise

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Reader and Steve are inseparable, even through dangerous times. But despite nearly dying, there’s just three unspoken little words that burden their minds. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Stab wounds, mentions of blood, cussing, basically just canon-typical stuff, pretty sure I clarified the reader as a girl at least once 

Notes: So, I’ve been rewatching Stranger Things because… ya know… October. And I’m in my Steve feelings and decided ‘hey! let’s write a giant fanfic about him’ so here it is. And kids? It’s a big one. Enjoy! I’ve been working on it for weeks.

It was meant to be a calm summer, perhaps your last ever calm summer - the plan after graduation having been to spend a year working to pay for your college tuition, or at least as much of it as you possibly could. It was a good plan, but of course, you didn’t factor in a Russian conspiracy theory underneath the mall.

You waved a goodbye to your supervisor at The Gap, watching her finish locking up from behind you as you pretended you were walking to the exit of the mall like you had done every other day. “If you need to get back in, you have your key right?” She questioned, you nodding as you pulled it out of your ‘hiding place’ - which happened to just be your bra. 

Once you had seen her take her leave, you quickly turned back around and knocked four times on the locked entrance of the Scoops Ahoy, being greeted by the face of your new friend Robin.

“Hey! Is everyone gone?” She questioned, peeking her head out as she opened up the store enough to let you in but not make too much noise - just in case there was still someone out there. 

“I think so, my store is usually the last to finish closing.” You responded as you looked around the inside of the store and followed Robin back into the break room, pulling a chair over to the table. Typically, when you came here during your lunch break, you would take a seat across from Steve but the inclusion of Dustin put you directly in the middle of the table.

“Well, Y/N, you joined a little late.” You heard from beside you, turning your head to watch Dustin sitting dramatically, his finger pointing accusingly at you.

“The hell is he on about?” You questioned as you glanced over at Steve, who turned to look at you and coughed awkwardly. 

“Robin already figured out what the code said but uh…. I don’t really believe it’s right.” He said with an almost disappointed look on his face as Robin and Dustin moved to the exit so everyone could leave. The code was figured out as far as they were concerned.

You glanced at the board and read what it said, your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as you read the word but you shrugged and turned to face Steve. “If it is some sort of Russian code, I don’t see why they would say whatever it is they wanted directly.” You said as you moved over to the counter  climbing on top of it with the help of Steve.

As you slid onto the floor, your feet meeting the ground as gently as possible as to not hurt yourself, you watched Dustin nod in agreement with your statement. “She’s right, a top-secret Russian code wouldn’t be that obvious - it’s obviously coded.” He said.

“And I know my translation was right.” Robin added on, your head turning back to look at Steve for just a moment before you turned ahead again. 

As you listened absentmindedly to their conversation you sighed, almost relieved that you most likely didn’t have to deal with this anymore. “Well, whatever it is thankfully it’s far away from here.” 

Almost like a curse, the minute you turned back around Steve was kneeling in front of the mini-carousel ride and demanding a quarter. You had no idea why, you were just assuming he wanted to get on it or something - odd since he wasn’t five but… you weren’t one to judge him. 

As he finally got his quarter you watched with confusion written all over your face before you heard it, the song that you’d been hearing for the past few weeks but… then you realized why he was playing it. It seemed Dustin had the same thought as he pulled the recorder out, playing it for you all to hear the same song playing in both places.

You felt chills run down your spine, but as Robin reasoned that maybe they had the same type of horse in Russia you agreed - maybe because you wanted to believe it. 

But, Steve pointed out the name of the horse. Indiana Flyer. Why would they have an Indiana Flyer in Russia? The recording must’ve been coming from within the mall, and the thought of that horrified you. 

As you all walked out of the mall, you wanted to get away as quickly as possible, you followed Steve to his car since you lived close together - he typically drove you home. 

“Y/N?” You heard from beside you once you’d gotten in the passenger seat, everything seeming to go by in a blur since you hadn’t even noticed that he’d left the parking lot. “Are you okay?” Steve asked, watching as you finally turned to look at him.

“You want to go after the Russians, don’t you?” You asked, your head seemingly spinning from all the information that was being presented to you in that moment - it was a lot for you to process. 

“Well yeah, we can’t tell the police about it, they’ll think we’re pulling some kind of prank.” replied, as though it was common sense that he wanted to go after them - whoever they were.

“But Hopper he- he knows about all of the weird stuff going on, I’m sure he’d be understanding.” You reasoned, still not wanted to go through with this.

“Y/N… do YOU want to go after the Russians?” Steve finally asked, turning into the area of town with more houses, leaving behind the gas station that you both usually stopped at for drinks after a long day of work. 

“No I- It’s dangerous.” You said, but that excuse with nothing and you knew it.

“We’ve fought monsters before, I’m sure humans are a step down from that-” 

“Steve I- last time you almost died and I can’t-” You internally cringed at the memory of seeing him bloody and bruised, remembering him going out with nothing but a baseball bat and the terror on your face as you did everything you could to help. “I don’t want you to die.” you commented, glancing back down at your lap.

“That won’t happen again and… is me living really more important than like- maybe everyone in our town?” Steve questioned you as he glanced at you for a moment, mostly keeping his eyes on the road, though.

“They’re not you.” You mumbled, looking out of the window of the car, almost embarrassed at the clinginess you felt toward your best friend. All those years of watching Steve grow and change, feeling more than friendly things toward him and nearly crying every time he told you about a new girl and you’re just just attached at the hip as you always had been.

There wasn’t much time to think about this, though, as you felt Steve slide his hand into your own comfortingly, his other hand firmly on the steering wheel. “You can stay back if you want to, you know, I’d rather you not be in danger an-”

“No!” You rushed out, eyes wide as your head snapped to look at Steve. “If you’re going I’m going, you’re not getting yourself killed and leaving me behind.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, “So you’re implying we should die together?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation somewhat light-hearted as he pulled into the parking lot of his own home - about three down from yours. 

“I’m not implying anything, I’m saying that if this goes wrong and something happens I’m gonna be there.” You finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt before motioning ahead. “You want a sleepover or something? I’d love to braid your hair, Stevie.” You teased as you got out of the car, but even teasing felt wrong. You were absolutely terrified. 

“I want to walk you back, but since you’re so worried for me maybe you don’t want me walking back alone.” He retorted playfully, meeting you on the other side of the car.

You smacked his arm, “This is serious.” You said, walking toward your house with the boy practically at your heels. 

“I know, Y/N I know I just-” He stopped, not knowing exactly what it was that he wanted to say. “I’m scared too, you know, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He said as you finally reluctantly turned back to look at him. “But we have to do this, someone has to, you know people are just going to think we’re being crazy because of Vietnam or something.” 

With a sigh, you nodded. “I know that, I just hate seeing you hurt. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re my best friend… I need you.” You said, feeling Steve link his arm with yours as you walked closer to your house, almost wishing you didn’t have to go in without Steve - just incase you never got to see him again.

You had noticed something stall in him at your words, maybe it was saying that you needed him - not that it was the only thing you wanted to say. But whatever it was that had given him pause wore off rather quickly as he composed himself. “I need you too, and I’m… I’m sorry to put you in this situation… again.” He said as you finally reached your door and turned to look at him - your worried expression instantly softening at his apologetic features.

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for wanting to help people Steve, I’m just being paranoid.” You brushed it off, moving your hand to fix a strand of his hair that was sticking up. 

Steve sighed and shook his head, “I understand that,”  He said, catching your wrist to keep some sort of contact - something that caused your stomach to flutter slightly. “But we will make it out of this, and everyone else will too. I promise.” He said, sticking out his pinkie for a pinkie promise - one of dozens you’d made with him.

You tried to fight back the smile on your face as you twisted your pinkie with his, “I trust you.” You finally responded, letting yourself smile. 

“Good, good, because you also just agreed to a sleepover when this is all over - I wanna see what you can do with my hair.” He teased, causing you to laugh. 

“Ok, ok, but if you hate it don’t cry.” You said with a smile. “Goodnight, Steve.” You finally said, rather softly, as you opened the door to your home. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He responded, walking down the sidewalk back to his house. There was a part of you that wanted to follow after him, ask him to stay with you or kiss him or something - it was almost always in the back of your head when he said goodnight. But you knew you couldn’t do that, so you just shut your front door and ran to the living room. Contrary to mocking annoyment at the idea of you not trusting him to walk down the sidewalk, you’d feel bad if you didn’t watch to make sure someone didn’t get him. 

Once you knew he had made it back home, you sighed and walked  to your bedroom, changing into what you typically slept in and slipped into bed. On a normal day, you might take a shower and watch a movie or something. But tonight you just wanted to go to bed, everything you had learned about the mall that day had just been too much.

The sound of your alarm clock startled you awake as you got out of bed, changing what you usually wore to work and turning to go outside. You were met, as you usually were, by the sight of Steve sitting in his car waiting for you to finish getting ready. 

“So, what are we doing today?” You asked him, sliding into the passenger seat and wrapping the seatbelt around you as you clicked it in place.

“I’m not sure, I’ll let you know if something happens but… I’ll just let you know.” Steve seemed to trail off, doing a U-Turn to turn back the way he had driven the previous night. For a moment it almost seemed like he didn’t want you involved, similar to how you didn’t particularly want him involved, but there you both were - directly in the middle of the Russian conspiracy theory. 

As you arrived at the mall, you left your bag in the car - again, as you usually did. Normally, you would be talking to Steve on the way in, but both of you seemed rather tense.

“It feels wrong going in here… I feel like we’re gonna be like-” You cut off, glancing around to make sure there was nobody that looked suspicious. “It feels like we might be… killed or something.” You finally said as you glanced over at Steve, walking into the mall with him, but a part of you wanted to turn around and never come back.

“It’ll be okay, they could have killed us last night probably if they thought we were on to them. I’m sure this is going to be fine.” He said, but he didn’t seem too assured. 

You nodded, though, because he really was right. The mall had your addresses from the checks being mailed home, if the Russians suspected that you knew something they could have had you killed already - and it made no sense to do something like that in a giant mall, especially when you lived so close together. 

“I’ll see you during our lunch break?” You questioned as you had reached Scoops Ahoy, Steve nodding in response. 

“Or earlier, if we find something and I have time to get you.” he responded, your heart almost dropping. 

“If you find something you need to get me, okay, or at least try- I don’t want you to get hurt I-” You were getting frantic again, keeping your voice down to not draw-awareness. 

“I will, but if something happens and you don’t see me during lunch promise you’ll come looking.” He said, watching as you nodded in response. You had to be realistic, something might happen and you might not be able to go together. “And you can’t pretend to be sick.” He said, as if reading a thought that may have crossed your mind.

“Alright.” You agreed reluctantly, waving a hello to Robin who you saw behind the counter and turning around, but for a moment something clicked in your brain. You might not see either of them for a while, if worse comes to worse. “Please stay safe, both of you.” You finally said as you turned back around, both of your close friends nodding before you walked to your job at The Gap.

The rest of the day you had basically spent most of the day folding clothes and answering customers questions, but your mind couldn’t help but wander. You were completely distant from everything that was going on, you couldn’t focus on anything. More than once you’d wanted to tell a customer to leave the mall, to never come back, because you felt like everyone was in danger at that moment. But you couldn’t. 

A while later, your lunch break started - as you walked over to Scoops Ahoy you noticed that neither Steve nor Robin were there, and you started to fear for the worst. 

It was a frantic scramble for the next few moments before you ran into someone, someone who grabbed your arms and pulled you in front of them.

“Hey-” 

“Steve? I th-”

“I know, I can explain, just come with me.” He said as he started guiding you over to a table. When you sat down, you noticed the people you were used to, at this point. Robin and Dustin, but you also noticed the inclusion of another new face. She looked familiar for a moment, before you placed that it was Erica Sinclair. 

“Why is-” You motioned to Erica, “Is she going to help us? What’s-” You were practically choking on your words, completely confused by what was going on as you felt Steve slide into the seat beside you. 

“We need someone to go through the vents to open the loading dock for us to get in, Dustin couldn’t fit and he thought he knew someone who could.” Robin explained, “And, she agreed in exchange for ice cream.” She added on.

You nodded along to what she said, wondering if it was a good idea to have her tagging along but knowing that if there was no other option there was no reason why the rest of you couldn’t just watch after her. 

The rest of the day was finished somewhat normally, with the looming knowledge that you would be getting into Russian equipment as soon as the mall closed. 

Ironically, you finished work early for the first time in a while. Your co-workers had been a little too diligent in making sure everything was stocked for the next day, granted, your supervisors had told you to be extra diligent for the next few days since it was the week of the holiday. While it meant that everything was going to be done sooner than it would have been otherwise, it also meant that you needed to break into Russian information sooner.

You quietly walked to where Scoops Ahoy was, you shouldn’t have been as paranoid as you were about going to see your friend who drove you home anyway - but with the given circumstances you felt like everything that you were doing was completely out of the ordinary. 

“You’re here early.” Robin commented from behind the counter as she jumped on top of the stand, sliding across it. 

“We finished early, I don’t think anyone else is still here though.” You said as you glanced around the empty mall. “Even if they are, I don’t think anyone’s going to notice us climbing on the roof.” 

It was only a few minutes later before Dustin, Robin, Steve and yourself departed for the rooftop outside of the loading deck - Erica moving for the vents that would allow you all to enter from that part of the building. 

As you laid on the rooftop, making sure to be as close to the roof as possible as to not draw any attention if there were to be someone who could be paying attention to any of you, you couldn’t help but feel like you shouldn’t be doing what you were doing.

There was just this feeling in your brain, this feeling that maybe this was wrong and that none of you should be involved. But, before you could allow your mind to wander too far with that idea the dock was open, and you were all climbing down the latter and walking quickly and quietly into the building before shutting the door behind you. 

It was eerie being inside of this part of the mall, surrounded by these boxes that you’d seen being walked through the mall and thought nothing of. Seeing them knowing that they were something else, something that could pose a threat to yourself and everyone else that you happened to know. 

You kneeled next to the boxes, watching as Steve opened one of them with a box cutter. You nearly jumped as you told Dustin to get back, but you did not expect him to tell you to get back. 

“If you die I die.” Dustin responded to Steve’s criticism, his firm tone seeming to surprise everyone - including you. 

“I agree with Dustin, if you die I die too.” You commented, high fiving Dustin above Steve’s head.

Steve seemed to blink for a moment, “Okay then.” He finally said, glancing between the both of you before twisting one of the tubes inside of the box and pulling it out.

You all stared in awe of the green, shining liquid-type thing inside of the jar that Steve was holding, having no clue what it could possibly be that he was holding.

Before you had the chance to tell him to put it down you all felt the room begin to move, only for a moment, before everyone started rushing to get the door opened. But the door didn’t seem to want to open. 

You let out a yell as you saw the walls begin to close in, and felt the room start shooting downwards. You fell over on top of one of the boxes, hitting your hip and most likely leaving a bruise. 

As soon as the room stopped, you slowly stood up. Of course, you quickly pieced together that what you were in wasn’t a room at all - but rather an elevator where the Russian’s happened to be keeping their things. Now, not only were you deep below the ground, but the doors to the elevator were completely covered over by a metal wall. 

As soon as you stood up, moving to stand with everyone else, you felt the need to collapse back onto the ground in some sort of defeat. “I didn’t think this was how we were going to die, of all the ways.” 

Steve kneeled in front of you, “We’re not gonna die, we just have to find a way out of here.” he tried to reassure you as he stood back up and started looking around for something. You assumed he was looking for some kind of emergency switch or exit, or maybe a way to get above the elevator in order to get out. 

But that kind of idea was quickly shot down, realizing that this might as well have been a metal box that you were all stuck in. There didn’t seem to be a way out.

“Maybe someone will come back in the morning, we could just…” You trailed off, making the motion of running your finger over your throat. 

“We are not going to kill whoever comes in here, Y/N.” Robin replied, a nearly disappointed look on her face at the way that your mind had instantly gone to that. 

“My point still stands, someone is probably going to come in here for whatever that green shit is tomorrow, if we hide I’m sure there will be a way to hold the door open. Better yet, maybe it’ll just go back up.” You said, feeling as if your brain was finally clicking into place. Most likely because this wasn’t the first time you were in a life or death situation, and truthfully it wasn’t the scariest either. 

“But what if they don’t come back for like… a week or something for another delivery.” Dustin added on, but you shook your head.

“That thing can’t just be sitting here, they’ve gotta do something with it I’m sure.” You said confidently. Maybe you weren’t too confident that someone was going to come back tomorrow, maybe someone wouldn’t be back for a few days, but you didn’t want to think about that. 

“In the meantime, though, we should try to find a way out in case whoever comes back tomorrow knows that we’re here.” Robin said, something that you couldn’t help but agree with.

It was about two hours before you had just given up, deciding that you most likely weren’t going to find a way out as everyone has scoured every inch of the elevator that you were stuck in. You gave the ‘Open Door’ button one last press before sliding back against the wall, a yawn escaping your lips as you leaned your head back. 

You felt someone beside you, and turned to find Steve sitting next to you, a defeated look on his face. “We’re not gonna die here,” You said. But you weren’t sure if you were saying it in an attempt to reassure yourself or to reassure Steve.

“Even if we do get out…” He trailed off, seemingly not wanting to think about what could happen next. “We were just supposed to come in here and leave. Not… get stuck down here.” He seemed frustrated and somewhat exhausted.

“We came down here to stop bad people from doing bad things, it just went a little wrong.” You said, wanting to bring some kind of hope into the discussion. But even before you didn’t have much hope that just the few of you could do much of anything, and now you’d all gotten stuck in an elevator.

“I didn’t want you down here with all the Russians, you know that right?” Steve asked, turning to look at you as you finally met his eyes. “I know you didn’t even want to be involved with this and if you get killed ‘cause of me-” 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to be involved, it’s that I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was never about me.” You said rather softly, watching his expression seemingly change for a moment as he got ready to do or say something - which one, you weren’t sure - but he seemed to stop himself when you let out another yawn.

“You can sleep, Y/N, I won’t let anything happen to you - I promise.” He said, sort of comfortingly as he wrapped an arm around you and let you rest your head gently on his shoulder.

“Goodnight Stevie.” You mumbled as you quickly fell asleep, the exhaustion from working and the stress of the day and the current situation being enough to effectively knock you out. 

It was only another few hours before you woke up at the feeling of movement, not really doing anything about it until you eventually heard the sound of a door opening. You were concealed by a box, and thankfully whoever had come in wouldn’t be able to see you. As you came to a bit more, you noticed Steve slide a box in between the doors that had opened to stop them from closing again. 

You followed everyone out of the room, “Nothing happened while you were asleep.” Dustin said from in front of you, your eyes moving over as you realized he was speaking to you. 

“Well, I figured, we were locked in a room - but I guess you never know.” You responded, quietly, as you walked down the hallway - your eyes practically running around the room as you made sure that there was nobody in there with you. 

It was a little while longer, everyone walking down corridors and you mostly being quiet out of fear that someone was going to hear you, that you would speak at the wrong time.

Eventually you reached what seemed to be some sort of communication room, but as you walked in you were face to face with a Russian Soldier. You froze for a minute, before searching for some sort of blunt object that you could use - for a moment considering throwing your shoes at the man. But Robin distracted him by reiterating the Russian code to him, and Steve seemed to think quick enough to knock the man out. 

“Good thinking,” You said as you turned to Robin - before your eyes began scanning the room. Finally, they found a door, and you walked with Robin to it, assuming that the others were following.

“Thanks,” She trailed off, seemingly distracted as she pushed open a door. You stood in shock of what you were staring at, the other three following you both into the room as Robin motions them in.

“Shit…” You trailed off, your brain connecting what you were looking at. Of course this had to be the reason that they were in a small town like Hawkins, seeing it before you made everything make perfect sense. Or, as much sense as a situation like this could possibly make to someone with a limited understanding of any of it. 

Quickly, you all made your way out of the room, looking for an escape before Erica noticed that the Russian soldier was no longer with Steve. By the time you’d all realized, though, it was too late. 

The only thing that you could do was run as fast as your feet could carry you, following after the other four. But you couldn’t be shocked that you were outnumbered, and try as you might to look for any type of exit it was obvious to you that there wasn’t going to be a safe exit - at least not for everyone.

You watched as Dustin and Erica quickly walked over to a vent, Steve pushing you toward them. “Go! It’ll be safer-”

“I can handle myself, Steve.” You replied back, urgently trying to get back over to the door with Robin. 

“It’s not about that, just go I don’t need you to di-”

“No! Not without you!” You finally yelled back, Steve seeming to stop for a moment before accepting that there wasn’t enough time to convince you to go with Dustin and Erica. You watched as they got away, knowing at that moment that your choice had been completely solidified. 

The next thing you knew, there was a swift punch to your face - the world going black, and all of the commotion surrounding you seeming to just fade away. 

You weren’t sure how long it was before you woke up again, but you seemed to come to your senses rather quickly. The room you were shoved into was rather small, almost like a mop closet but it was completely empty - a flickering fluorescent being your only form of light. There was no one with you, for a couple seconds, that is. 

Within a few moments of waking up a man walked into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as you turned to you with a smug expression.

“You put up quite a fight, you know.” the man commented, much to your dismay.

“I can’t… I don’t remember that.” You responded, which, again to your dismay, made him seem to laugh for just a moment as your confusion.

“No, you wouldn’t, we’ve already injected you with the serum we’re about to give your friends.” He said, glancing down at you for a moment, seemingly at your body. “Have you looked at yourself?” The commented, again, with a smug expression on his face.

It was then that you glanced down, multiple knife wounds on your body, blood covering the front of your shirt. “Wh-”

“The serum will stop the pain for a little while, but if you don’t start telling the truth soon…” He trailed off, moving closer to you and pressing down on the wound that you could only assume was a stab, though it felt as if it was covered by a bandage, “You’re going to regret it.” 

You watched as blood pooled around where he was pressing, but the serum was strong enough to make it only feel like an intense pressure, almost like getting a root canal at the dentist's office - you know something terrible is happening, but can only kind of feel it. 

At that moment you could only realize: he had mentioned your friends. “Where are they, where did you take them.” You grunted out, almost instinctively reaching for the man’s neck as he moved back.

“It wouldn’t matter if I told you, the way things are going - they’re not going to make it out of the day.” he responded, his thick Russian accent making his words harder to understand - but you understand perfectly clear what he was trying to say.

“If you don’t fucking tell me where they are I swear to God I will fucking bite you- I will bite your Adam’s Apple out you son of a-” That was enough to make the man swiftly slap you across the face, standing up and waling to the door. 

“If you don’t want the easy way… I guess I’ll just send in the doctor.” He said, walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

As you stood up to look for some way out, assuming there had to be a way, you narrowly dodged a vent falling from above you. “Dustin?!” You whisper-yelled, watching as he dropped from the vent and onto the ground.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, taking in your bloodied form. 

“I don’t remember- Where’s Steve?” You asked him, watching as he moved toward the door with what appeared to be a couple bobby pins he had gotten from Erica. 

“We’re going to get him right now,” He started as the door unlocked. “How is it that you got stabbed and your first question is ‘where’s Steve’?” Dustin questioned as he peeked his head out of the door way before motioning for you to follow him out. 

You followed Dustin out, feeling the familiar pressure of the stab wound on your waistline - now that you were standing, it was clear that it was somewhere on the far left part of your hip - thankfully far away from any important organs. 

As you walked through the long corridors, making sure to avoid any hubs of people, you found yourself passing by the very room that you last remembered being in - before being brought to another interrogation room. Dustin prodded a man in a lab coat with a large, electrified metal rod before you both made quick work of untying Steve and Robin.

Despite your current bloodied and wounded state, you still found yourself getting a lump in your throat seeing the injuries that Steve had sustained. 

“You’re going to be okay, we’re all going to be okay.” You said once you had finally gotten the ties done on his hands - resting a hand on the side of his cheek for a moment before turning to Dustin. “You know how to get out of here?” You questioned, watching as he nodded in response. “Alright then, good.” 

You ran after Dustin, making sure Robin and Steve were behind you both as you got into the cart, leaning your head against the wall as you sat across from Steve and Robin.

You tilted your head at their current state, before remembering the mention of a serum - one you were supposed to have had, but you just assumed it was why you couldn’t remember anything that happened to you; that and the fact that it was probably working overtime to numb the pain of your wound. 

For the first time, you pulled your shirt up slightly. Your suspicion was correct, they had put a bandage over the wound. But it was flimsy at best, leaving a large patch of blood on your hip where you had been bleeding through. 

You dropped your shirt quickly, shifting uncomfortably as you followed everyone into the elevator. Maybe it was how quickly it was moving, or maybe it was just the natural span of the drugs, but you felt your head begin to pound, and with it you felt the stab wound for the first time; a sharp pain coming through as you let out a groan.

“You’re not looking too good,” Dustin commented as you looked over toward him with a slight glare. 

“I’ll meet you back at the movie theater, just let me run and get a first aid kit.” You responded, once you’d finally gotten out of the elevator. It felt odd being in the movie theater, having just escaped from a Russian lab directly under where you were at the moment. 

As soon as you stepped out you quickly made your way to The Gap, knowing that there was a first aid kit kept in the back. You reached your hand into the side of your bra, pulling out the store key that you kept in there and sliding it into the lock - twisting it and making a painful bolt for the back of the store.

Letting out another loud groan, you grabbed the first aid kit and basically dropped onto the ground, leaning against the wall for support as you hiked your shirt up and removed the bandage.

It was a painful process, trying to clean up the blood and tightly wrap a bandage on in a timely manner - but you managed, with perhaps less than a dozen cuss words uttered. 

As soon as you were finished, you reached into the kit and pulled out a few advil’s, doing your best to swallow them without water before locking the kit back up and making your way back out of the store - but as you looked down at your clothing you sighed and grabbed a shirt and jacket, changing quickly before walking back out. Stealing was wrong, but in this case you knew you would raise some sort of suspicion if you ran out covered in blood. You locked the store back up and left  to go to the movie theater. 

You didn’t end up making it all the way back as you found the scoops troop gathered outside of the bathroom. “Wh-”

“Long story,” Dustin cut you off as you all noticed people beginning to pour out of the movie theater. “Let’s go.” He said, and you followed after him.

“What happened to you, Dustin mentioned something about getting stabbed?” Steve questioned, watching as you turned to look over at him.

“Well… I got stabbed.” You said, almost teasingly as you walked out of the movie theater area with them. “I can’t believe this worked.” You said, a small grin of relief covering your face as you made your way to the door of the mall - but before you did, your hopes were immediately dashed by the men checking identifications at the door. 

You ran quickly through the crowd of people, running anywhere that you could possibly run to hide from the people following after you - as you finally jumped behind the scoops ahoy counter you hugged your knees to your chest, slowing your breathing as best as you could as you scooted in next to Steve.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you heard the last voice exit the movie theater, your head quickly turning to face Steve. He slowly moved his hand to slide into yours, you weren’t sure if he was attempting to calm your fears or his own but you didn’t care because in that moment it helped you. 

There was so much you needed to say, so much you knew you were never going to say as you heard the men’s footsteps draw closer to the countertop. But then the car started going off, and after the loud noise of an automobile crash you popped your head up to see the men having been crushed by a car. 

As you glanced up, you saw the rest of the party on the ledge above, your face breaking out into a grin as you stood up. “We’re alive!” You said, rather enthusiastically as you turned to look at Steve. He didn’t seem to have much time to respond as you quickly pulled him into a tight hug, the grin never leaving your face as you pulled back to look at him. “I really thought we were gonna die for like… the second time tonight and I-”

You were cut off as you felt him lean in to quickly press his lips against yours in an urgent kiss. It didn’t take more than a couple seconds for you to pull him closer - even if it just lasted for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, I just realized I had some unfinished business while we were about to die.” He said as he finally pulled back, a small smile covering your lips as you looked at him. 

“That’s crazy, because I felt the exact same way.” You said in a rather playful manner, your conversation cut short as you hear someone clear their throat.

“If you two are finished making out, we have a situation at hand.” Dustin commented, watching as you both begrudgingly got out from behind the counter and joined the rest of the group. You seemed to tune out the conversation though, your eyes settling on El. She seemed uncomfortable, you assumed at first she must just be hurting from the wound you noticed on her leg, but it seemed to be much worse than you had suspected. 

As soon as El collapsed to the ground you followed after her, before you noticed that something in her leg was moving. You were all going to have to act fast to figure out how you could help her, and Jonathan seemed to be the one that had figured out how. 

You did your best to calm the poor girl down, but you knew that it wasn’t going to end up working.because there was no way that she was going to end up feeling better with the amount of pain that she was clearly in at the moment. 

It was difficult for you to watch when Jonathan brought back the knife, even more difficult when you watched as the poor girl got her leg sliced into, his hand going in to dig out the intruder in her leg. You leaned back a bit when she decided to do it herself, moments away from asking if there was anything you could do before she ended up getting the thing out of her leg and throwing it to the side.

When you looked up, you noted that there was three more people in the room with you all - maybe this would be easier with them here. Maybe.

As you stood up from your place on the floor, you made your way over to sit beside Robin. “Are you okay?” You questioned as you turned to look at her, but she didn’t seem to have a solid answer. 

There was so much going on, and part of you didn’t even know how to comprehend it even though this wasn’t the first time that something like this had happened. You did your best to listen to the plans that were being made, but you figured it would be easier to just wait and see what you were going to end up doing.

You found out much sooner than expected as you left in a car with Robin, Steve, Dustin and Erica only moments later to go find a way for Dustin to guide Hopper, Murray and Joyce through the mall. 

You quickly walked out of the mall, your eyes widening as you turned to look at Steve. “I accepted King Steve, not too sure I’m down with Daddy Steve.” You teased as you got into the car. 

As you did Steve sent you a playful glare, “You know you love it, who wouldn’t.” He responded back with a grin and a teasing kiss on your cheek as he started up the car.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Dustin seemed vehemently opposed to just giving Steve some normal directions to where he was being expected to drive you all, but maybe it was easier this way in some sense. Not that you were sure what sense that was, but perhaps it was easier for Dustin. Or, perhaps he just wanted to be difficult. 

You were rather calm, feeling the breeze in your hair despite the situation as you drove down the country roads. But what you weren’t expecting at all was the drive up a literal grassy hill. 

You let out a shocked yelp at the feeling of the grass under the car, and the feeling like the car was about to roll off of the hill. Thankfully it didn’t, but as the car cut out and you sat in shock you slowly realized that the car wasn’t going to work any further. 

You all got out of the car, walking up the hill and sitting down next to Dustin’s communication machine, watching as he attempted to get into contact with Suzie. 

“You know, maybe Suzie is asleep-” You started, but held your hands up defensively as Dustin sent a cold glare your way. 

You sat rather calmly in the grass for a little while, your eyes moving up to watch the stars before you turned to glance again at Steve. “You know, I did mean what I said earlier.” Steve said as he scooted over to sit closer to you.

“That you think I love calling you Daddy Steve?” You questioned with a tone of bewilderment in your voice as you stared at him. 

“What? No, I mean… when I thought that we were going to die I just- I realized that I um… I had some unfinished business because i uh-” He seemed to cut himself off, not really knowing what to say without being awkward. 

“I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to say but I’m pretty sure I feel the same way I mean I was literally stabbed and I was all like ‘oh god- but what about Steve’.” You said, more awkward than you intended.

“It’s true, she was asking about you when I rescued her.” Dustin said, you motioning to him.

“See? I just-” You cut yourself off as you glanced down, your eyes finding that of the mall. “You see that too, right?” You questioned. Steve turned where you were looking and his eyes widened. 

“Uh… guys?” He said, pointing to the mall. 

Dustin began to frantically try to contact the people in Starcourt, but when he did all that you heard was the sound of a monstrous roar that was absolutely not Mike Wheeler, or anyone else in that mall. 

You and Steve seemed to have the same idea as you shared a glance and stood from your place on the ground, running down the hill without saying anything before Dustin questioned where you were going. You didn’t know what you were going to be able to do, just you Steve and Robin weren’t going to be able to save everyone. But you would be damned if you didn’t try, at the very least. There had to be something you could do, even if it was the move of a martyr. 

You quickly got into the car, watching as Steve struggled to get it started before backing up down the hill. You were surprised that it ended up working, but glad that you would be able to have something that would, hopefully, get you all to the mall quicker than you would have been able to get there on foot. 

As Steve sped to the mall, you found yourself fruitlessly trying to find a way to look at it and see something, anything, that was going on there - maybe even someone from the mall having escaped. But you found nothing, no matter how hard you looked. 

“Are there any weapons or something in here?” 

“No! No there’s nothing here I checked on the way.” Robin responded, seemingly as stressed out about this as you were. 

Once you made it to the parking lot you saw a car trying to crash into your friends, trying to escape from the mall. You recognized the car to be Billy’s, which was odd since you had no idea why he could possibly be there. 

You hopped out of the now destroyed car you were in, looking around for somewhere to go before you heard someone yell to get in. You quickly got into the back of the van with everyone else, listening to the communication channels as you finally heard the voice you had been waiting to hear; honestly thinking that it was probably not real.

“Suzie is real…” You trailed off, letting out a laugh at the sound of her singing with Dustin on the communication channel. While it hardly seemed to be the right time or place, you were absolutely not going to let Dustin live that down the next time that you saw him.

You all made your way back to the mall when the commotion stopped, when it seemed like everything was over, to make sure that everyone was okay. But when you got there, you quickly learned that both Billy and Hopper didn’t survive the attack. 

You covered your mouth with your hand, feeling tears well in your eyes - maybe it was the stress, maybe it was because Hopper who you’d known was dead, or because of how El was going to feel after losing him. But you felt absolutely distraught at the news. Steve pulled you into his side, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before an EMT stopped in front of you. 

“Ma’am… you’re bleeding.” She said lightly, pointing to the wound on your hip. 

“Oh- Yeah I… um… long night would you-” 

She cut you off with an immediate nod, bringing you back to stitch up your wound. You insisted that you would be okay without going back to the hospital, and she very begrudgingly let you go so long as you weren’t going to be alone.

It was a rather short, and mainly silent, walk back home with Steve. As you stopped in front of your door, you turned to look at him. “Would you… um… come in?” You questioned, Steve nodding lightly as he followed you into your house and to your bedroom. 

Neither of you really had any interest in changing, the stress of the day being enough to make you not feel the need to change - you just wanted to lay down with Steve. 

As Steve laid down, pulling you under the covers as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, you felt him mumble something against your hair.

“What was that?” You questioned, your head moving up to look into his eyes.

“Earlier, I was trying to tell you that I love you and… thinking I was going to die without saying it… I was so scared.” he said, his eyes soft and genuine.

Your lips formed a smile, light, but all you could manage after the long day. “I love you too, Steve, I- I think I always have.” You said lightly, feeling him learn down slightly as you met him in the middle for a soft kiss. 

As you both pulled back you let out a sigh, “Does this count as our sleepover?” You asked playfully, Steve letting out a laugh as he shook his head.

“No, expect me over for dinner tomorrow night.” He said matter-of-factly as he looked at you.

“Fair… I don’t think I want to be alone for a little while anyway.” You said, a certain vulnerability showing that seemed to make Steve’s eyes soften.

“You never have to be alone, you know that right?” He asked, to which you nodded and pressed another soft kiss to his lips before resting your head once more. 

“Pinkie promise?” You asked softly, to which he held out his pinkie, your two fingers intertwining - a moment later just shifting to tangle your hands together. 

There were a lot of obvious reasons to fear staying in Hawkins, to resent the things that you were exposed to through the life that you had - nothing about it was normal. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, because Steve was the only normalcy that you needed. You knew he would never leave, because for you both a pinkie promise meant forever.

[doubleshotofsomething]

Needy

[This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU challenge. This is a three part soulmate au inspired by the song “Needy” by Ariana Grande, the prologue does not count as part one.]

The world is a big place and not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. You’re lucky enough to find the man you’re bound to. There’s just one problem. You’re not the one he wants.

…

Summary: And this is why we can’t have nice things.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader

Warnings: Angst... angst? anGST?? [idk what other warnings I can put], definitely no fluff. Everyone is still an idiot, more so than ever.

Prompts: soulmate au. song prompt.

----

Prologue Part One

----

Part Two: [But all that I know is I need you close]

Soulmate.

That's what he called it. That's what you were to someone else, to another man. Their soulmate.

Bucky's soulmate.

"Uh—" Thor blinks. He was having a hard time processing the information. "You're her what?"

It was laundry day. He was in the middle of separating the colours from the whites, like you taught him, to lessen the load for you, when there was a knock. You were supposed to be back in a few hours - today was the day you had the least work hours - to finish the task of throwing each load in the washer. He never could work that thing.

He had let Bucky in as soon as he opened the door, offered him a beer and scrambled through the drawers for a clean shirt to wear. Turns out you were the only one that didn't mind him walking around in a pair of sweatpants.

Both men were confused at first, finding each other on opposite sides of your apartment’s door. Thor assumed there was a mission he was needed for, so he had a paper and pen in his hand and was halfway through scribbling a note for you - something along the lines of 'work emergency'. Bucky assumed he had gotten the wrong apartment; Sam hadn't been particularly useful in helping him locate you.

If she wanted you to find her, she wouldn't have moved, were his exact words.

Bucky knew he was right. But he still had to see you. He hadn't felt the bond in a few weeks, and it was honestly starting to worry him. The least he could do was make sure you were okay, right?

Imagine his confusion when he found out that yes, this is Y/N's apartment and yes, I'm staying with her and no, she's at work, why are you asking?

"Soulmate," Bucky repeats himself, leaning against the kitchen counter as he eyed Thor. "She seriously didn't tell you?"

Thor shakes his head, mouth slightly agape as he stared back at his co-worker. You would have mentioned having a soulmate, that's something people generally tell each other before they make plans to buy a couch big enough for both of them—

"Are we talking about the same Y/N?" He knows that they're both talking about you, because it is the only thing that makes sense. Of course, you would be soulmates with an Avenger, he was just hoping that he was lucky enough to find an unmatched woman like you.

Bucky nods solemnly, taking a sip from the beer he had been cradling as he continued to lean against the counter.

"And you're matched?" Thor asks, hoping the answer is yes.

Because if you're matched, then it's fine. If you're matched with Bucky, his co-worker and friend, then being in love with you was absolutely fine. He could still have you, you could still be his, he could still slice up the peppers for you like you had asked - like you had shown for tonight's dish - and he could still help you make that dish without worrying about—

Bucky shakes his head, eyes scanning your new apartment again. "Mated." He mumbles, frowning slightly at how much smaller it was than your first one, too small for two.

"Mated..." Thor breathes out, and he stares at the man that was made for the woman he wants.

Because that's so much worse. Because he can't have you now, not when you were made for someone else.

It shouldn't surprise him, that you would be a matebond. He thought it was odd for you to not have a match or a mate. The universe could never create such a being, soft and sweet and right, and not have made her for someone like Barnes, rough and edgy and in need of the love you could provide. Fate would never have it.

But it did. It honestly surprised him. You hadn't mentioned having a mate or that he was Bucky. And Bucky had married another woman. And you lived in an apartment that was made for one, when your entire nature was to nest for two, prepare for two, exist for two.

"You're married." is the only thing Thor can seem to say, the only thing his mind can force out of his mouth and he narrows his eyes at Bucky. Your habits were definitely contagious.

Bucky nods, his face neutral as he looks back at Thor. "I am."

"You were made for someone, literally made for her—" he doesn't mean to get angry, to let the thought of losing you get to him, but it does. "—and you married someone else?"

Bucky grimaces, putting the bottle down. He hates that he has heard those words before, hates it even more that it's always from people involved with you in some way, from people in love with you - as if they even knew you like he does.

Steve. Sam. And now, Thor.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I married someone else. That's part of the reason I'm here—"

"—You're here to do what?"

How do you do it? How do you keep on getting his friends, his team, to love you like this? To bat for you like this.

He had barely gotten on good grounds with Sam, then you showed up and ruined a potentially great friendship.

Steve had broken laws, disobeyed orders, took on Hydra countless times, because of their friendship. But, one look at your pretty little face and that annoyingly contagious smile, and he couldn't even leave his best pal alone with you. Not when he had seen that look on his face before. Not when he came back from being with Peggy for you.

And now, Thor, a man who had left Asgard – and came back to help the team – on his quest to win Jane back, was in your kitchen. In sweatpants. Doing laundry.

How do you keep making everyone love you?

How do you keep finding ways to hurt him like this?

"I'm here to fix things, Thor." He shouldn't hate the way it makes him feel, but he does. "I can't feel her, not like before, and that's not right. It... it didn't used to be like this, ya know?"

Thor doesn't. He was made for a throne, and royalty could never have matches or mates. A kingdom could only ever prosper if the ruling party was unmatched, historically speaking, and Kings had to be able to marry whomever was fit to rule beside them - without the prospect of a soulmate intervening.

He didn't know what it was supposed to be like. He had always wanted to know, wanted a soulmate, having loved the notion of it all – having someone made for you. A person so intricately made for another, that it was impossible to be with someone else. So, how could you both be with other people, when you had already found each other?

The weather outside had changed, a darkening sky and a flash of lightening somewhere in the distance. Thor didn't mean to let this upset him, but all he could think about was how he would have to let you be with someone else.

"Thor—"

"Leave, before—" before the temperature drops, before the weather worsens, before it starts to storm—

Because all he could think about was that short-sleeved shirt you wore to work and the jacket you didn't take and the umbrella that was still in the coat closet, because he had said it's going to be a good day, you won't need the jacket and now it wasn't.

Because you were a matebond.

 --

 What you had, the type of soulmate you were, was called a bond – or a mate. It was a rare type, but not uncommon. While most people grew up with matches or were unmatched, you were part of the minority with a mate.

Matches are actual soulmates. It is decided, unchanging. As a match, you live your life knowing that you are just a half – that you have another half somewhere out there. A match's instinct to want their half cannot be fought or changed or challenged. It is inevitable.

Unmatched are as common as matches. They are born from matches who breed with non-matches. The world is a big place, and only 30% of matches ever find their soulmates.

Mates are only ever born because of certain events. Nothing specific, it could be major or minor, an earthquake or the parent of a mate nursing a wounded animal back to health. There wasn't any science to prove the specifics or the nature of the events, only that fate chose which event was significant enough to give parents—matched or unmatched – a mate for a child.

You, along with Sam, were a mate. The science called your kind a bond, because of the biology that linked you and your mate. The stories, folktales, myths, called your kind matebonds, because of the unsettling similarities to the bond’s werewolves had with their mates.

Matches were their own people, regardless of being halves. They could do as they pleased, whenever they pleased. That is why unmatched can only ever come from matches.

Mates, however, could only ever do what their bond to their mates allowed. Everything about a mate was made to correspond with their significant other. Your biology was made for your mate, only him, and vice versa.

You couldn't feel their emotions, like some matches, but your bond - your closeness to each other - could accelerate their healing. Your blood mixing with theirs, your presence near theirs, your smell, everything about you was made for them. You can't feel their pain, but you can feel their presence and them. The bond pulls you towards them - always.

Only 30% of matches ever find each other. But mates will always find each other.

Bucky could never really reject you; it could literally kill you both. He could never be apart from you for too long, it would make him unbearable to those around him. He would constantly need you near, around him, within arm’s reach, because that was his biology.

He would need you, always, and you would always be ready for whenever that was. It was your biology.

When you arrived home and found bags by the door, and Thor waiting for you in the kitchen, a part of you knew why.

He was dressed in the same outfit he was in when you had hit him with your car, stormbreaker placed on the kitchen sink and out of the closet you had insisted it be kept in. His arms were folded across his chest and his expression was one of disappointment. And you didn't need to look into those clear blues to know he was disappointed in you.

You walked into the kitchen cautiously, body shaking slightly from how cold you were – the rain had caught you on your way back to the office from your lunch break, and again on your way to your parking spot across the street – and your hair was drenched.

"He came, didn't he?" You whisper, eyes assessing the giant of a man standing in front of you.

"Your mate?" He hisses.

An actual hiss, directed at you, and not at the waitress who had gotten your order wrong, or your neighbour who could never lower his music and was too scary for you to ask, or the caretaker who would give you a hard time whenever he had to fix something that Thor couldn't.

You hate what that does to you, what his stare does to you. You could take Bucky's angry glare and his temper tantrums, but not Thor's. You couldn't have this with him too, you couldn't survive it.

"Uh..." You don't know what to say. You can't deny it, because he's not wrong. But Bucky hasn't been your mate since... ever. He hasn't been what a mate should have been. "It's not—"

"It's not what? True?" He's leaned back against the sink and, even though stormbreaker is behind you on the counter, you don't like how intimidating he looks. "Please tell me it's not. Please tell me that Bucky is just an ex-boyfriend that's still attached, or that he got the wrong address, and that you're not the girl he's trying to fix things with—"

"—he wants to fix things?" You didn't mean for that to come out as it did, as hopeful, as slightly excited.

But it did, and Thor's light blues darkened so quickly that they nearly remind you of Bucky's.

"You let me into your home and into your life, knowing, knowing who I was and what you were, and you didn't bother to—" he doesn't mean to yell, he really doesn't, but he's angry and he feels betrayed and you have a mate. "What was your plan?"

"Thor—" you're trembling and it's no longer from the cold, "—calm down, please, I can explain."

He scoffs at that, rolling his eyes. "You're not denying it."

"I'm not gonna lie to you!" Your voice is shaky and high-pitched, and you don't mean to escalate this into a screaming match, but it's too late. "Just—I promise it's not what it seems—"

"It seems like you belong to another man!"

"He's not mine!"

"Neither am I, dammit!"

That shouldn't have hurt you. That should not have hurt you. You have heard it so many times, seen it in so many different ways, that it shouldn't have hurt.

But it did.

It hurt more than it should, you had never thought of Thor as yours, but you were beginning to care deeply for him like he wasn't made for anyone else. And, to make it worse, it took this moment, right here and right now, it took the look of disappointment and betrayal, it took the darkening of his eyes, for you to realise that. To realise that this man, this being that had done nothing but give instead of take, had somehow managed to make you fall—

"We're not even together, he and I." you say softly, wrapping your arms around your waist and looking away from him. "We've never been together."

He seems to find that funny because he laughs. It's a bitter laugh, cold and humourless, and you hate how it sounds nothing like his actual laugh.

"You're mates, Y/N." He says, as if you don't already know that. "What you haven't been doesn't compare to what you will be. I can't do this."

"Do what?" Your eyes widen as you look up at him, gaping at him, at what he was trying to say. "Do what, Thor?"

"I can't do this. I can't be with you—"

"Because of Bucky?"

"—because of you. Because of what you are!"

"What I am?" There's a crack in your voice when you say this.

You're shaking and it's his fault. He knows it. You're easily frightened, and you have never liked yelling, or loud noises, or fast movements, as they always seem to set you on edge. He knows this.

He hates this. He hates that this is your conversation right now, that your first fight together will be your last, that he can hear your heartbeat and it's beating too fast for you to still be standing.

He hates that he wants to hold you, and forget about all of this, because he can't. He hates seeing you like this, hates it even more because he's the reason.

Most of all, he hates that you were made for someone else, when everything about you seemed to have been created for him.

You weren't his, but his entire being responded to all of you like he was yours.

"You are made for—"

"I am made for a man who is programmed to want me dead!" You yell, even though you hate it. You yell because Thor isn't Bucky, and there aren't any holes in your walls or shattered glasses around your feet. "This isn't fair—he can't kill me; his biology won't let him but that hasn't kept him from trying! You can't—we can't—he doesn't get to do this again. You can't leave me— please."

His stomach shouldn't churn the way it is, you're not his.

His anger shouldn't be trying to consume him, because you're not his.

You're not his. You're not his. You're not his. He doesn't get to be enraged by—

"Kill you?" He all but growls, the rumble of it mimicked by the thunder that followed.

"It's not fair—" You don't hear him though; your ears are ringing, and your racing heart seems to be louder than your own voice. "—he doesn't get to do this. No!"

"Y/N!"

"No!" When had your life turned into this… "You don't get it. I want this, I want you. I know I can't give you anything-- I don't have anything left to give. But I want you and I want what we have, okay? Because this is good, this is great. We can have this."

You know you can't. That's why you kept your soul-type a secret. With nothing to show for it, no signs or birthmarks, you could be passed off as an unmatched. Until Bucky shows up... and he always shows up.

But you're hoping that this time, it's different. That he isn't like everyone else, like Bucky.

You're hoping that, this time, your reasons are enough for him to want to stay. That you're enough for him to want to stay.

That you're worth the decision to stay...

"The bruising around your neck..." He trails off and you visibly stiffen. "That's why he can't feel you right, isn't it? That's because of him."

"Say you want this too." You say, choosing to ignore his question – as rhetorical as it may be. "Say you'll stay."

He doesn't.

He doesn't say that, and he doesn't stay.

And, once again, you're left to deal with the mess that Bucky created.

[the-great-imagines-of-1812]

Through The Years pt. 5 (Bucky Barnes x fem!Stark! Reader)

A/N: feedback is appreciated, as always!

the tags: @the-romanian-is-bae @a-girl-who-loves-disney

the warnings: torture (nothing too intense, but still.), explosions, wounds, captivity, angst, fluff at the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943.

KRAUSBERG, AUSTRIA. A HYDRA BASE. 

4:00  HOURS. 

“Vake up! Vake up!” Was the first thing you heard when you woke up, laying strapped down on a cold metal table, in a dark room, with a light shoved right in your face. A thick German accent. 

Oh no. 

You tried to open your eyes to the best of your ability, albeit they still hurt and your whole body stung with pain beyond imaginable. “Hurry up!”

A harsh slap to your face.

If this didn’t make you open your eyes, you feared what was next. As you opened them, the light which was once harsh on your face now illuminated a good part of the room. Despite the pain in your neck, you were able to turn your head and see-

Bucky. 

No. You wouldn’t let them hurt him. “Bucky, baby please- are you okay?” you were able to say through tears, feeling a sob on it’s way. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first. It’s as if he’s blanked out on reality, in another world. He then proceeds to snap out of it, turning his head to you. He too is strapped to the table.

He lets out a cough before letting out a relieved breath. “Doll, hey.” he seems to lose his breath for a second. “I won’t let them hurt you, darlin’. I promise.”

“I should be saying that Barne-”

“SILENCE! Project Survival has begun.” the man said. Turning your head as much as the pain allowed you to, you were able to catch a glimpse of him. He was an average height, with some hair on his head and round glasses.

Arnim Zola. The one and only right hand man to Johann Schmidt. You had heard about him before, while in several briefings with Erksine. That was now in the past. He was no longer a name and a photograph. He was a reality. 

Laying your head back once again, you thought of Howard. What would he do without you? Would he be able to rest at night knowing this is how you met your end?

No. You couldn’t. As he said, many more birthdays to celebrate. 

Shifting uncomfortably under your armor and clothes, your breathing picked up and went short as Zola rolled a table between you and Bucky, full of bottles and syringes, scissors and scalpels.

He fills a syringe up with a blue liquid from a bottle. He then proceeds to shine it in the light. “Who shall go virst, hmm? The lady-” he looks at you. “Or ze gentleman?” 

“NO! i won’t let you hurt her. Give it to-” Bucky said, desperately; his eyes darting between you and Zola.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Barnes, I thought you knew better. Ladies first, is that not correct?”

Zola then proceeds to walk over to the end of your table with your head on it, grabbing it by the chin and setting it straight so it won’t move.

“Just a little zomehting, hmm?” a pause. “To enhance that little ability of yours.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen. “W-What ability, sweetheart? What’s he talking about?”

There are no more words from any three of you and Zola plunges the needle into your neck in such a harsh manner, making you scream and causing your whole body to thrash. It causes your whole body to go numb and a pounding headache to arise. 

The last thing you hear before you black out is Bucky yelling a “NO!” and Zola laughing. 

This was going to be a long day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943.

KRAUSBERG, AUSTRIA. A HYDRA BASE.

12:00 HOURS. 

You wake up slowly and easily this time, the sunshine on your face. The room was quiet this time. No Zola, no harsh light in your face. Just a numb body and a migraine. 

The straps didn’t hurt anymore, for some reason. 

You turned your head to see Bucky, also waking up from his -chemical- induced sleep. “What’d they do to you, Buck?” He turns his head. The tear marks are evident on his face. He sighs. 

“More like what didn’t they do? I feel awful.”

This brought tears to your eyes. “My feet hurt so much. I can’t feel much else. It’s pretty numb.  Buck. I’m scared.” He stares back at you, tears welling up in his eyes. All he wanted was to keep you safe. If it were up to him, he’d whisk you off to Brooklyn, right now. Maybe you could meet his Ma, Rebecca too. You could be the best of friends.

He would take you dancing, after you’d both reveal the relationship to Howard. He’d be mad at first, but then able to see eye to eye with you. he would dress in his tailored  navy blue suit, only one he had. Oh, and you’d be wearing that stunning sky blue dress you told him about once, with a red lip and victory curls. Absolutely beautiful. 

He thought about it more. He’d pick you up exactly at 9′o’clock, your brother greets him at the door. You’re still getting ready, and Howard reluctantly invites him in. You’d eventually come down the stairs, a little bit out of breath, but stunning nonetheless. Howard is happy, but he’d never show it in front of Bucky.

You’d dance cheek to cheek. He brings you home exactly at 10:30, like Howard instructed demanded. He’d kiss just your cheek, knowing Howard is probably watching, probably holding a bat. Made of wood. Or maybe metal. Or maybe both. You’d go up to your room after saying goodnight. You’d put on a nightgown, and just before putting your hair in rollers you’d hear him climbing up the fire escape to give you a proper kiss, just as Howard walks in with the bat in hand, ready to shoo him off.

It would be perfect, albeit a bit chaotic. But there be peace and no pain, and that’s what mattered. 

The tears stream down his face. “Darlin’, what was he talking about? What ability? Enhance what?”

Your eyes start to tear up as well. “I’m sorry! I was so scared!” You break and before you know it, you’re crying so much it shakes the table. 

“Doll, you don’t have to tell me now-”

“I want to. I should’ve a long time ago. It’s called Telekinesis. I can move objects with my mind, if I focus. But it’s still hard sometimes. I don’t know what he did to me!” 

“Hey, sugar. Oh, my love. It’s alright. We’re going to be just fine, I promise ya. Just close those eyes for me. I’ll still be here when you wake up, alright?”

Nodding, you laid your head back and relaxed, as much as you possibly could. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943

THE ALLIED POWERS’ BASE, ITALY.

19:00 HOURS. 

The thunder was as loud as gunshots and could probably be heard all the way in Spain. But the rain made the mood all the more bitter as Steve sat drawing in a little sketchbook. 

“Hello Steve.”

Steve, hearing Peggy, turns around. She seems sad, tear marks on her face. “Hi. What are you doing here? Is everything okay, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She quickly wipes her face with her hands. “Officially, I’m not here at all.That was quite the performannce.”

Dodging his head back to the ground, “Yeah. I had to improvise a bit. Most of the crowds are a bit - are a bit more.. twelve-.” He looks back up at her. “But you’re dodging the question. Are you ok?”

“Schmidt sent forces out to Azzano. There were two-hundred men went up against him, led by newly appointed Lieutenant General Y/N Stark. Less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest where either killed or captured, we don’t know.”

Steve’s heard perks up. “The 107th?”

Both hiding under Peggy’s coat, they ran to General Phillip's tent under the rain. They walk in to a frantic man, talking to the General so fast, he might just run out of words. 

“Captain Andrews, I’ll need you to calm down.” he turns to Peggy and Steve “Ah, the Star-Spangled man with a plan. What’re you up to?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano. I just need one name-”

“You’re not one to give me orders, son.”

Both men are interrupted by Captain Andrews. “Excuse me sir, my name is Tommy Andrews. I-I’m a Captain, I serve in Lieutenant General Stark’s Company.”

Steve looks at him with a range of emotion on his face. “Hello, Captain. What can you tell me?”

Tommy takes a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “We had just set up camp in Bordeaux, resting up before invading Azzano. It wasn’t time yet. but we were too late, and we were ambushed. The Lieutenant General told me to run away with as many men as I could. Told me to contact General Philips. Both the Lieutenant General and your friend, Sergeant Barnes were captured. I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head. “There’s no need to be sorry, Captain. You did what was right, following your orders.” he turns to General Phillips. 

“Since when is Stark a Lieutenant General? When did he-”

“She. His sister. Not him, Rogers.”  General Phillips cut him off. 

“But how-. Look. just give me their names. Tell me their alive. B-A-R-N-E-S and S-T-A-R-”

“I’ve signed more condolence letters than I care to count. Her brother is devastated. But Barnes does sound familiar. I’m sorry, son.” 

“General, but what about a rescue mission?”

“They are 30 miles behind enemy lines. In some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. Possibly in the world. We’d lose more men than we’d save. You wouldn’t understand, chorus girl.”

“I understand just fine.”

“Then go understand somewhere else. From what I know, you’ve got somewhere to be in 30 minutes.”

“I do.”

Phillips starts to say something, but Steve already took off, Peggy behind him.

 While he’s putting on a jacket and helmet, Peggy asks “Are you insane?! What’re are you going to do, walk to Austria? And as the General said, they’re probably dead!”

“These are my friends, Peggy!”

“You don’t think I- Y/N’s been my best friend since secondary school. She’s the older sister I always wished I had! It like losing family, Steve!”

Steve walks out of the tent, loading his stuff in the car. “You told me before I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

There’s a silence as the pair stare into each others eyes. “Every word, Steve. But let me help you.”

~~~~~~~

On the plane, Peggy is showing Steve a map, where he’s supposed to be headed. “The HYDRA camp is in Krausberg, between these two mountains.”

“We should be able to drop you off right at their doorstep.” Howard said from the cockpit, in a cold tone. 

“Just get me as close as you can. Howard, how are you holding up?”

“Listen here Rogers. You don’t talk about her, don’t think about her. You didn’t know her like I did.” 

“Sir, with all due respect, she was my friend-”

“WELL SHE WAS MY SISTER! She was all I had left. Now if you don’t bring back her Company and ease that poor Captain Andrews’s soul, I will make sure the rest of your life is miserable.”

There’s a sad silence throughout the plane. Peggy speaks up. “Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s brave enough to man this airspace. We’re lucky to have him.”

Gunshots are heard, and the trio knows they’ve arrived at the destination. Steve approaches the door, ready to jump out. “When I land, you turn this thing around and go back, understood?”

“You can’t give me orders!”

“Like hell I can, I’m Captain!”

~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943.

KRAUSBERG, AUSTRIA. A HYDRA BASE.

20:00 HOURS. 

“Bucky-Bucky, wake up!” you say, trying to get him to open his eyes. He does, but once again stares off into space. Once he hears you crying, he turns his head. “Hi. Are you okay? How much does it hurt, sweetheart?” 

“It’s almost nothing. Something is different, although. I can feel it.” you said, through sobs.

“We’re gonna be alright. You know that, right?”

You take a deep breath and nod. “You think we’re gettin’ out of here?”

“We can only hope.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back as gunshots are heard outside, and someone running down the corridor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the narrow corridor, Steve hears a groan and cries from the ‘operating’ room the soldiers had told him about. Looking both ways before going in, he enters the room slowly, with caution. As he pears in further, he sees to people strapped to tables. He make his way closer to them, and there laying there- 

Bucky, Bucky and you.

He walks over to undo the straps on Bucky’s body. “Hey, Hey Buck, it’s me.”

Bucky is able to focus his eyes on Steve “Hey. Steve”. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Steve whispered “I thought you were dead.”

“And I thought you were smaller. Please, I need to help her, Stevie. She’s hurting.”

Realizing who he’s talking about, he walks over to you, laying conscious on the table and undoing the straps. You come to and turn to see Steve and Bucky. 

The crackle on gunshots is heard outside. The three of you flinch.

You are able to support yourself a bit better now. “Steve, hi. How are you doing? You ok?”

“Stark, I should be the one asking you that. Let’s get out of here.”

“Stevie, how do you two know each other? What happened to you?”

“I joined the army, all thanks to her and her Howard Stark.”

 “You’ll have to tell me about it later.. Did it hurt? Is it permanent?”

“Only a little Buck. And yes, permanent so far. I hope it is.”

Coming from outside, the three of you hear an explosion, causing the three of you two walk down the hallway as quick as possible. You make it to the bridge above the power plants, and the three of you climb to the top, hoping to find an escape route, and quickly. 

But like everything else today, it didn’t go as planned, as a thick German accent cut through the air. “Captain America! How exciting! I am a great fan of your films!” Schmidt said, being followed by Zola. 

You whimper in fear, and as Bucky hears this, quickly tucks you into his side, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm you down.  “Y/N Stark! I am a very very big fan of your work! Hydra would be blessed to have someone like you.”

Schmidt turns to Steve again. “So, looks like Dr. Erksine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but impressive. I have to give it to him.”

Steve then proceeds to wack Schmidt across the face with his shield, which results in him knocking Steve back with a swift punch. Now on opposite sides of the bridge, Zola pushed a button that made both sides seperate from one another. 

“You see, no matter what lies Erksine told you-”

You cling to Bucky in fear. 

“I was his greatest success!” Schmidt then proceeds to take the skin off his face, to reveal a new, bald, red skull. “You pretend to be a simple soldier, Captain. But you refuse to admit that we’ve left humanity behind! Unlike you, I choose to embrace it proudly. Without fear!” Zola and Schmidt then proceed to go into an elevator, that carried them far away from the two of you. 

There are more explosions from below, and Steve leads you both to climb another set of stairs. On this bridge, you encounter a narrow beam made of iron. The only thing separating you from the other side. “Okay one at a time.” 

Steve looks between the two of you. “Y/N you first, please.” You shake your head. “I’ll be able to make it anyways. I have the serum. It’s in my blood.”

“That’s a story for another time. Bucky, i guess it’s you then.”

“No! I can’t just cross to the other side and leave here here!”

“Bucky, please just do it! I’ll be fine.” He proceeds to give you a quick peck on the lips and Steve helps him mount the beam. The beam creaks and falls down as he walks, but luckily he jumps just in time. 

“Go on Buck! Get out of here!” you yell.

“No! Not without you guys!”

You back up to the side as Steve makes a brave jump across the bridge. That only leaves you on the platform. “C’mon! You can do it! I Know you can!” 

Taking a deep breath, you unbutton your uniform coat, revealing the chest plate of your armor. Whipping out  a sword, you throw it to the other side and jump.

The sword catches you in mid air, as one hand stuck to the railing. Steve and Bucky help you up.

“Let’s get out of here, boys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 4TH, 1943

THE ALLIED POWERS’ BASE, ITALY. 

9:00 HOURS.

“I took a chance on you, Agent Carter. Now not only is America’s golden boy dead, but my Lieutenant General too. All because you had a crush.” General Phillips said. 

“It wasn’t that, General. I believed in him.”

“I hope it’s a comfort to you when they shut this division down, Agent.” 

Outside, there were a bunch of soldiers running. Not from, but to. “What in the hell is going on out there?” General Philips seemed to ask himself, as he made his way outside, Peggy following him. 

There marching right beside Steve, were you and Bucky. The 107th had gone through hell, and made it back alive. Soldiers started cheering and clapping, approaching the group. There was even one who exclaimed “Look who it is!”

Howard hears all the commotion from his tent and goes outside to see what’s going on. He stands behind Peggy, hoping to catch a glimpse of what caused so much ruckus in the once silent base. It couldn’t be. You were supposed to be dead. 

“General Philips, these men need medical attention.” said Steve, as you and Bucky stood at his side. Your turn to Bucky. “Told you we’d make it out, darlin’?” 

“Maybe I should trust you more, Buck. Thank you.” You said as he locked his eyes with your own, wrapping his arm around you. “You better. I plan on having you around for a long time, sweetheart.”

“Really, now? I sure hope so, Buck. You’re my person.”

A smirk makes it’s way onto his face. “I’m your person? Well, then. I ain’t planning to let you go forever plus a day. I’m so happy to have you.”

“You better do something about it, wise-guy. I see Colonel Johnson eyeing me from the tactical tent-”

Before you can finish your sentence, he swoops you up, pulling you into a deep kiss as he lifts you off the ground and gives you a small spin. 

“Barnes you are someth-” 

“Y/N!” you and Bucky immediately pulled away from each other, and you turned to see Howard right in front of you. “Y/N! oh my god!”

You start to fiddle with the buttons on your uniform. “Howard! I’m sorry you had to find out like this-”

“Nonsense! I’m just glad your home. Even if it involved getting with- him” Howard said, making a hand gesture towards Bucky, who was behind you, cowering in fear. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, Howwie. I hate to make  you worry.”

“Well, I also hate that you make me worried, but it isin’t your fault” You pull away from Howard’s hug and Bucky holds out his hand.

“I’d like to formally introduce myself, Mr. Stark. You haven’t let me introduce myself. My names James Buchanan Barnes, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, without you threatening to fight me.”

Howard, hesitantly holding his hand out, “The pleasure is all mine, James. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. All I want is to see my sister happy. Which, you obviously do so- maybe I won’t chase you with a bat.”

“Howard!”

He lets out a laugh. “I only want the best for you, you know that. Now, I’m pretty sure Phillips wants you to give a debriefing.”

You nod. “See you later, Buck?”

“You know it, darlin’” he walks off.

“He loves you, you know. You can tell from his eyes. You’ll always be able to tell from someone’s eyes, sis.”

“What would you know? I be t you don’t even remember that one girl’s name!” you said, crossing your arms. 

“Of course I remember. Maria, from New Haven. moved here to learn how to play piano. You’ve got to meet her sometime.” 

“I hope so. Give her the sibling talk?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.” you said, walking away. 

“Wait-wait. This conversation isn't over!” he chases after you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a long one, good god. anyways i spent an entire day on it so please show it some love. <3

- Talya

[dreamwritesimagines]

Untouchable 2- Bad Ideas [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your feedback my loves, please keep it coming! <3

You can read the previous chapters on my masterlist<3

Summary: “Did I cross your mind?”   “I don’t think about you at all, Sergeant.”

Characters: Reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2381

Warnings: Mentions of sex work, explicit language, 1940s. 

“You know you are way too sweet to be doing this job sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Your bright smile felt way too forced to you, but it was practiced enough to make him fall for it.

“General,” you tilted your head and batted your lashes, “You’re being very polite.”

“I’m being honest,” he said, as you pulled the sheets around your naked body and he curled an arm behind his head, letting out a relieved breath “And I think we both agreed you’d call me Charles.”

“Everyone calls you General Richards,” you said airily, “I figured I could follow the tradition.”

“Well,” he tapped your nose with his finger, making you scrunch up your nose in a completely adorable way in his opinion, you were sure, “For you I can make an exception.”

“Oh you know how to make a girl feel special,” you giggled as he pulled you closer, and by some kind of irony, what one of your friends had told you flashed in your mind.

It was around the very first weeks you had joined the brothel, and you had asked the girls how they could pretend that easily.

Everyone had different answers but what Nancy had said stuck with you for a long time,

“You pretend it’s someone else,” she had said, “You close your eyes, and when you open them, you imagine it’s someone else, someone more handsome, someone who makes you feel excited.”

“Do you know what people call you then?” Charles said and you closed your eyes for a moment, then when you opened them, the face flashed in your mind made you sit up straight.

Bucky Barnes.

“Hm?” you frowned slightly, trying to shake off the thoughts, “I’m sorry?”

“Do you know what they call you?”

“No,” you said softly, trying to focus and looked up at him, “What do they call me?”

“The most beautiful harlot ever existed,” he said, making you raise your brows,

“Is that right?”

“Oh don’t tell me you didn’t know,” he chuckled, “You have many admirers, lovely.”

“I think I heard a thing or two about that,” you waved a hand, “I tend not to listen to gossips.”

“You don’t care what people think of you?”

“I do care what some people think of me,” you smiled slightly, stealing a mischievous look at him, “Not the people on the streets. But do you think I’m beautiful, Charles?”

Your voice was way too soft, a perfect balance between shyness and curiosity, something you had practiced way too many times to fail.

“Oh little birdie,” he pulled you closer to kiss you on the lips, making you feel-

Nothing. You felt absolutely nothing.

“You might be the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid eyes on,” he muttered to your lips, “Hence my comment about you being too sweet to be doing this.”

“How else would we have met?” you asked, smiling at him, and he pulled from you,

“You make me want to stay with you the whole day, birdie.”

No, please go.

“Then stay?” you offered, already dreading the possibility, but thankfully, he shook his head.

“I have things to do, with people who are much less beautiful,” he said as he grabbed his pants, “Some of the wounded soldiers were sent back, so I have to fix the new men who will be sent there instead of them, it’s a mess.”

“Ah, that’s sad,” you said, your stomach doing a flip, “I do hope they get well.”

“You should hope that if you want them to be sent back to the front, because that’s where they are going when they get better.”

“Oh,” you swallowed thickly and he reached out to brush your hair off your eyes,

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it,” he said, his tone almost condescending as if you couldn’t understand the situation, making you clench your teeth for a moment before you controlled your expression, “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh I might have something to do tomorrow, I’m afraid-“

“I say if you’re busy or not birdie, not the other way around,” his voice was like a whip and your eyes snapped up to yours, the sudden flare of anger in his voice catching you almost off guard, but then you managed to pull yourself together and smiled,

“I didn’t mean it that way, of course,” you said abashedly, “I just saw this new lingerie, and I meant it to be a surprise but they will deliver it next week.”

That was more than enough to make him smirk and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh I’m a patient man,” he leaned in to peck you on the lips, “You thought I would like it, huh?”

Don’t make a face. Do not make a face.

“I’m sure of it,” you said as he got into his jacket, then put a wad of money on your nightstand.

“I’ll see you later birdie,” he said and walked out of your room, making you drop the smile immediately and glare at the door he had just closed.

“I hope you die at the front,” you whispered, then grabbed your gown to put it on, before walking to the shower.

                                                             ***

“Y/N,” Linda, the madam of the brothel stopped you before you could button your coat, and you turned your head,

“Yes Linda?”

“Can I see you for a moment?”

“Of course,” you smiled at her and followed her to her office. You shut the door before walking to one of the seats to sit down, “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” she sat down and lit her cigarette, then offered you one, which you gladly accepted, “These flowers came for you today.”

“Oh?” you said, then pulled the vase to yourself, “That’s… they look beautiful.”

“I was going to put them into your room but you were busy with a client.”

“General Richards.” You nodded as you grabbed the card “Yes. He might come tomorrow as well, he was talking about that.”  

I can’t wait to see you.

You tried not to scoff, then threw the card into the trash under Linda’s desk,

“I know, he told me,” Linda said, “He does look like he’s fascinated by you.”

You exhaled the smoke, “You taught me well.”

“It’s not just me, you know that,”

“It’s not that hard to pretend,” you shrugged slightly, shooting her a forced smile, “People are easy to deceive.”

“Your looks make it easy, sugar,” she told you, pointing at you with her cigarette, “That’s why I called you here. What are your plans?”

“For what?”

“For the future?”

“I…um-“ you stammered, “I’m trying to save money, but I don’t think-?”

“Not that,” she waved a dismissive hand, “If I had your youth and beauty, Y/N… You need to use those for your benefit.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

She exhaled the smoke again, “You have many admirers. All of them are rich. With enough….persuasion, they would gladly make you more than-“ she motioned around you, “This.”

You turned the cigarette between your fingers, “General Richards talked to you.” 

“You know he could offer you everything.”

“Not everything.” You shook your head, “He…. He just wants to control people. That’s all. I’m not paying that price for what he offers.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “Don’t be so quick to decide. Do you want me to send these to your room?”

You eyed the flowers, then shook your head,

“They look better here,” you said as you stood up, “Do you want anything from the outside?”

She shook her head so you walked out and closed the door behind you, then left the house. You had only taken a couple of steps when an argument caught your attention coming from a nearby alley and you frowned at the familiar voice, then turned your head to approach the two men who were both unaware of your presence,

“I’ve seen you do so many ridiculous things for girls but this is something else,” the shorter one said, “Does she know we’re here?”

“No!”

“Do we know if she even wants to see you?”

“Steve…”

“I’m not going to follow a girl around just because you think she’s beautiful.”

“We’re not going to follow her around!”

“Bucky,” the blonde man- Steve said and your heart skipped a beat for some reason, “You dragged me here-“

“I just want to see if this is where she lives, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“I just-“ he heaved a sigh, “To- to make sure she’s alright.”

“She doesn’t sound interested in you, so I’d gather she’s just fine.”

“Steve, you don’t understand-“

“Can I help you gentlemen?” you cut him off and Bucky turned around, his arm in a white plaster catching your eye.

He looked exactly like you remembered him, with bits of cuts and scrapes over his handsome face, but other than those, that look on his face as his eyes fell on you was the same, making a small smile pull at your lips.

“No ma’am, thank you,” Steve said but Bucky elbowed him.

“You’re back,” you said after a beat, “Welcome back, Sergeant.”

Steve looked between you two, then a look of realization dawned on his face.

“Thank you,” Bucky said breathlessly “It worked- your prayers. You- you said you would.”

“I did.”

Steve raised his brows, tilting his head as if he wasn’t used to see Bucky stammer and get nervous.

“I’m Y/N.” you extended your hand and he shook it.

“Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

“Will you tell me what you and your friend were doing in this part of the town, Mr. Rogers?”

“We-“

“We were passing by.”

“This is a blind alley.”

“We just realized that.”

“And walked deeper in?”

Bucky nodded solemnly, “Yeah. Yeah we did.”

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head silently, as if he was at the end of his patience, then cleared his throat.

“I’ll just….” He motioned towards the street, “Yeah, over- over there.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too, ma’am.” Steve said politely, then walked out of the alley, leaving both of you there. A silence fell upon you as your heartbeat got faster and you cleared your throat.

“Does your arm hurt?”

Bucky looked down at his arm as if he had forgotten about his injury, then shook his head,

“Turns out you can’t really aim with a broken arm.”

“Well if a broken arm brought you back to Brooklyn, it’s good luck.”

He smiled softly, then nodded, tips of his ears going red again and you tried not to smile.

“What are you doing here, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Bucky.”

“Sergeant Barnes.” You repeated, “Why are you here?”

“I... I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” you asked and he licked his lips,

“Do you always question people like that?”

“Usually. Considering people usually pay to see me.”

“Does my presence disturb you then?” he asked and you wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

In all honesty, seeing him back in Brooklyn made you feel almost excited, as if someone had brought you a present you had really, really wanted.

“No,” you said, “No it doesn’t. But it’s a bad idea.”

“Why is it a bad idea?”

“You know why,” you said, swallowing thickly for a moment before you pulled yourself together, but he had already caught it.

“I thought about you,” he said, “When we were out there. At the front.”  

“You shouldn’t have,” you crossed your arms, “Find a nurse or something, aren’t there pretty nurses out there?”

He frowned, as if he didn’t know how to answer that, “….Yes?”

“There you go,” you said and you started walking back to the brothel, but he caught up with you,

“How about you?” he asked, “Did I cross your mind?”

“I don’t think about you at all, Sergeant.” You lied way too easily as you kept walking, “I don’t have the luxury to think about men other than my clients.”

“You didn’t?” he stopped you and your eyes snapped up to his, “At all?”

You had no idea what was going on with you, why your stomach had made a flip or why you couldn’t look him in the eye and fed him your pretty lies, just like you had done to everyone else. It was supposed to be as easy as breathing, your façade had never failed you.

Until now.

So for some reason, you averted your eyes and took a deep breath, then forced yourself to smile,

“What you have in your mind is only a dream, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, “If it helped you survive out there, I’m grateful. But I-“ you took a shaky breath as he waited patiently, “I’m a bad idea. You know I am a very, very bad idea.”

He looked like he had nothing to say to that and you reached out to take his hat off, and handed it to him,

“There,” you said slowly, and tried to smile, “You shouldn’t deprive Brooklyn’s girls of your face. We do need to see a handsome fella after all, wartime or not.”

With that, you walked past him and opened the door to the brothel, then got inside and closed it. You leaned your head back, desperately trying to ignore the burning in your eyes before you pushed yourself off the door and climbed the stairs to get into your room to get ready just in case a client showed up, but as soon as you entered your room, you stopped dead on your tracks.

There was a small box lying on your bed with a small note attached to it. You grabbed the note, then skimmed the lines,

Surprise for a surprise, birdie.

Charles.

You pulled the lid off the box to see a diamond necklace inside, shining on the soft, tiny black satin, as if winking at you.

You were supposed to want this.

Linda would want this.

Shirley would want this.

All the girls in the brothel would want this.

It was an expensive gift, and you were supposed to want this.

….What the hell was wrong with you?

You clenched your teeth, breathing out of your nose, then put the necklace back into the box and threw it to the wall with all your strength.

                                               ***

@rhabakoli​​ @rmwest9​​ @finnickfoxes​​  @theskytraveler​​ @asongofmarvelanddc​​ @thorohdamnson​​  @fictionwillneverdie​​ @barnesrogersvstheworld​​  @lostkizzy​​   @evanstarff​​  @superwolfchild-fan​​  @marauderskeeper​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @alwaysadreamingoptimist​ @lettersofwrittencollective​ @i-am-always-famished​  @small-round-and-angry​ @captstefanbrandt​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @writeyourmindaway​ @geekandbooknerd​ @mamaraptor​  @j-finco​ @the-omni-princess​ @supercarricat​ @anxietysucks​ @fortisfiliae​ @stopitchris​ @nea90sweetie​ @inforapound​ @theladybiers​ @aikeji​ @nishanki1​

[su8arandspite]

For Old Time’s Sake

Summary: It’s 1995 in Hawkins. When Heather Johnson returns home for the Hawkins High School reunion, she comes face to face with an old lover. Or, alternatively, the one where Steve falls in love with Heather all over again.

Steve Harrington x oc

Warnings: 18+, mature content, smut

Tags: @casaharrington

The town of Hawkins kept its secrets well. From the outside, and to every kid who made a run for it after high school, not much about the town changed. Small town stillness washed over the buildings and suburban homes that Heather Johnson passed on the drive home to her parents’ place. If not for the empty lot where the Dairy Queen had been and the newly painted houses, Hawkins could have been a time machine to 1985.

She parked curbside outside of her childhood home. Through the trees, just past the Harrington home, she could vaguely make out the ruins of what was once Hawkins Lab. Even abandoned, it brought bile to her throat. When Heather left Hawkins, danger eschewed the rosy lens of childhood she knew it under. Time blurred and muddied her memories, but fleeting images of a boy with a baseball bat comforted her; whatever it was, they defeated it together.

Heather yanked the keys from the ignition. She didn’t come back to dig up old nightmares. Steadying her breath, she hauled her suitcase from the hatch of her car into her old home. Whatever she saw ten years ago in that shadowy building couldn’t hurt her now.

She retired to her bedroom that night with a head swimming in unsaid words and forgotten dreams she bottled up and left here in Hawkins. Traveling through the hallways of her parents’ house brewed an unwelcome, lonely sense of dejavú that could swallow Heather whole.

The door closed softly behind her. Heather looked to the window next door, partially out of habit, partially wrapped up in foolish hope, but instead found the curtains drawn. She longed for the secret notes passed through window panes on late nights and the stolen kisses as he stumbled into her bedroom. That was- they were- long gone now.

Now, standing alone in her girlish lilac bedroom, she felt like a stranger in her own life. The knick-knacks, trophies, polaroids, and photo booth strips belonged to someone else entirely. She thumbed over the picture frame sitting proudly on her nightstand, swiping the dust away from the picture-perfect memory of two smitten teens. Her mother must have retrieved it from the floor and replaced it sometime after she left. The crack down the center obscured her face, but she cared more about the way Steve looked at her. Just as she let herself want, her finger caught on the crack and blood sullied the cheap frame. Cursing, she cushioned the wound between her lips to dull the bleeding.

Heather Johnson blossomed into her own person through the past decade; she had a place to call her own, a job she felt passionately for, everything she once doubted she could earn without her Daddy’s help. Something about Hawkins, though, made that woman shrink slowly back into the scared girl who ran away from it.

High school for Heather looked picture perfect. In some ways, it had been, yet a part of her always felt sandwiched into the tiny pond that Hawkins was and desperate to swim upstream into the outside world. For someone with as many friends and as surrounded by people as Heather the Cheerleader had been, she never felt more lonely. Her friends’ parents worked boring desk jobs that required no traveling and most of them had one boyfriend or another to waste their time with. She kissed as many boys as she could just trying to make up for the loneliness she felt in her parents’ absence; it always found its way back. Until Steve.

Steve Harrington lived next door. He talked too much, slept around quite a bit, and had a poor taste in friends. Heather might nod along and listen as Laurie or Becky rambled off reasons why he could not be trusted, but she never cared to listen. She liked to think she knew Steve perfectly well.

The first time Heather met Steve, she might have agreed with what her friends thought of him. They knew each other only through summer block parties and whatever other events their parents dragged them to until 1982. That summer leading up to sophomore year changed a lot for Heather; her body filled out and her Dad started leaving home more. She took up a job lifeguarding at the community pool and returned to school in August sunkissed, slightly curvy, and in need of a little trouble. Steve, who received a shiny new BMW for his sixteenth birthday, looked exactly like the kind of trouble she wanted.

She had him completely, utterly wrapped around her finger by the end of September. Heather and Steve soiled every inch of that car as summer came to autumn. She only meant to distract herself, but her desire for fire and trouble died down into an ache for the boy next door. Heather let herself love him wholly. Steve became her future; he tamed her rebellious spirit into a lovestruck girl who wanted only for him to stay with her forever.

Forever, for Heather and Steve, instead became the beginning of junior year. He stomped on her heart and spit it right back at her. As Heather pulled back to lick her wounds, Steve zeroed in on his next prey. Nancy Wheeler stood for everything Heather could never be. Girls like Nancy didn’t just offer up their virginities to the first boy who called them pretty or invent their own hangover cures out of necessity. Heather hated the thought of Steve with someone like that, because she could never be half as good. Good girls like Nancy shone like blank canvases void of any tarnish and squeaky-clean enough to bring home to Mom; Heather the Whore and her Father-sized baggage could never compete with a girl like that.

Even now, the sight of that swimming pool nauseated her. Mr. Harrington had it drained years ago, but she only saw the very end of Barbara Holland’s life, the thing that took her, and the boy she still loved already falling for Nancy Wheeler, all right outside her bedroom window. Heather yanked her curtains shut. The demogorgon might be unreachable now, but nothing so far healed her battered little heart.

---

“Joey, you little shit! Let go of your sister’s hair”

Heather clung to the kitchen island, watching as the red-headed toddlers tornadoed across the living room. Carol stormed out of the bedroom sporting only one shoe and looking more grown up than Heather ever imagined she would be. Tommy and Carol’s wedding unsurprisingly predated the prompt birth of their first child by mere months. Between the two nightmares currently messing up their house and the heavily pregnant bump in her purple gown, Carol looked about one temper tantrum away from a spectacular breakdown of her own.

However exhausted parenthood and married life looked to someone like Heather, that new sheen in Carol’s eyes and the bizarrely adult change in Tommy’s demeanor suggested otherwise. The life of a Hawkins housewife, with all its cliquey glory and PTA snobs, suited Carol’s catty nature and, to everyone’s surprise, fatherhood had calmed Tommy’s recklessness. Heather took one look at their messy, chaotic, love-filled life, and her confidence crumbled. Her life in New York outpaced anything Hawkins could offer her, but she couldn’t pretend that she had once not wanted anymore more than this life with Steve.

“For fuck’s sake Tommy, would you hurry up?”

Carol herded her husband towards the door, cursing under her breath at his inability to correctly tie a necktie. If not for the wedding rings and Carol’s baby bump, Heather might have mistaken the scene for a recreation of their senior prom night.

Heather piled into the backseat of Carol’s mini-van. Tommy stuck his head out of the driver’s seat as they sped off to Hawkins High, screaming:

“Class of ‘85, motherfuckers!”

Carol yanked him back into the car by the collar. She added a swift smack to the head for good measure. Heather smiled to herself; at least some things never did change.

As the burgundy minivan pulled into the spot once reserved for Heather’s Jeep, she saw her life from the outside. Without the safety of her green and white cheerleading outfit, Hawkins High School looked a whole lot less impressive than back in the day.

Tommy and Carol dispersed into the crowd not long after their arrival, while Heather gravitated towards the open bar. She greeted passersby who recognized her and watched the crowd swell. She stirred her drink absently and watched the night unfold around her.

Old cheer squad members earned careers in fashion or television or teaching. Her third grade best friend married her ninth grade lab partner. Old Hawkins friends gathered like nothing ever changed, but Heather felt acutely aware that everything had.

Meanwhile, Steve tore himself away from a conversation with a few classmates he only vaguely remembered. He stopped a few feet away from her, as if unsure whether or not to proceed.

Time dealt Steve Harrington the short hand. He stayed in Hawkins, he told himself, not out of fear but just to keep an eye on things for a while. Jim Hopper promised to call if any more monsters popped up. No need, he said. I think I’ll stick around a while longer. First, Nancy and Jonathan Byers, even Billy Hargrove, graduated and took the fast track out of town. By the time Dustin and Lucas and Mike and the rest of the rugrats set off to college, Steve was fresh out of excuses.

Hopper took a quick visit down to the record store where Steve took up a job to pay his bills. He leaned down over the counter Steve worked behind and lowered his voice:

“What the hell are you still doing here, kid? We both know you don’t belong in this shithole.”

“Yeah,” he deadpanned. “You’re probably right”

Hopper, more a father to Steve than his own ever was, refused to let him give up like this. Where Steve saw in himself the self-righteous asshole who vandalized the town movie theater, Hopper saw the young man who readily put his own life on the line to save those kids.

“Look, I don’t really care what you do,” he lied. “Just quit feeling sorry for yourself and do something with your life.”

The next morning, Hopper arrived at the station to find Steve Harrington sitting with his tail between his legs in the chair facing his desk. By that time the next year, he was the latest member of the Hawkins PD. And a damn good one at that, he might add.

For the first time in his life, Steve had everything he could want. Everything, that is, except someone to share it with.

His heart skittered as he worked up the courage to get Heather alone. He’d heard that she came alone and wanted little more than to catch her attention. Things ended so badly between them- his fault, really- that he hardly imagined she wanted to see him again. So, with the same sense of humility as that fateful morning in Chief Hopper’s office, he tapped her shoulder:

“Save me a dance? For old time’s sake.”

Gooseflesh rippled her bare arms; she would recognize that voice anywhere. Heather set her cocktail glass on the bar, turning her head towards him. He looked the spitting image of the nervous boy who first asked to take her out to the movies. Hands scrunched in his suit pockets, and sporting the very same crooked smile she remembered, Steve Harrington stood before her.

Heather’s powder blue dress blended well with her skin tone in the dim gym lighting and her dark hair popped against the fabric. His heart swelled at the sight of her standing in the very same gym they shared their first kiss in. Steve wondered how he ever let a girl like that slip through his fingers.

“Okay,” she said. “For old time’s sake”

He led her by the hand to the makeshift dance floor, feeling for the first time in ages the sweaty anticipation of a lovestruck school boy. Her rosy cheeks swelled with a smile in tandem with her shaky hands as they locked between the ducktail of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands resting easily on her hips, they danced.

“Y’know,” he chuckled. “I really didn’t expect to see you again. I’m glad I did”

The way he looked at her, even after all these years, sent Heather to the verge of tears; no one had looked at her like since she was a teenager. Since she and Steve were in love.

“Yeah,” her voice came out soft and small. “Me, too.”

They’d come full circle. Although life led them in different directions, and took Heather and Steve to the wrong people in their journey to find the love they first had in each other, it seemed their story looped back to that dingy old gym. Steve knew the second he saw her that tonight would be a whole lot more than reminiscing with a lost lover. Even if Heather didn’t know that, yet, Steve didn’t mind waiting.

Steve would wait forever for her if it only meant that he could see that smile one last time. The way her brown eyes sparkled in the dim lighting, the way her hips filled out the fabric of her gown, the way her delicate touch ghosted over him as they danced; Heather was filled with reminders of the way he once loved her. The way Steve still loved her.

Heather cupped his cheek, stroking it with her thumb and watching after him with a melancholy smile.

“I am so proud of you,” she whispered.

Heather clung to her once-lover long past the end of slow songs, the two swaying to synthetic pop tunes. It seemed that each of them darted around fears that, should they let go of each other, they might never get the chance to do so again. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, Heather let herself believe that, maybe, she was always meant to find her way back to him. She felt not like an adult but once again like a teenage girl nervously dancing with the prom date of her dreams.

He nuzzled his nose forward against her cheek. His hot breath fanned out against her skin and pulled her in even more. The sweet, mesmerizing scent of Steve’s rosewood cologne, the ghost of spearmint chewing gum, and a hint of musk hypnotized Heather. As he finally kissed her, Heather folded into his touch. The kiss was a decade in the making, the kind featured on movie screens and cheesy discount novels. Every word they were too afraid to speak into existence and all their repressed emotions poured into the kiss.

Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss. Only as the final song of the night faded into its closing note did Heather pull herself away from his warmth. Steve stole a quick kiss to her cheek. They walked slowly towards the edge of the dance floor.

“Here,” he said. Steve draped his sports coat over Heather’s shoulders.

Hair bouncing along with his lopsided grin, Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of Heather and that captivating laugh of hers. Even as she led him away from the dance floor, Steve found himself absorbed in her. Her neatly styled hair fell rebelliously out of place, the heat on her cheeks and perspiration from nerves and the dancing all adding just the right amount of lived-in smudge to her make-up. Heather looked radiant. The words fell out of his loose lips like thoughts so strong that his mouth couldn’t contain them:

“You’re beautiful.”

She slumped into a seat, letting out a breathy laugh. He slid into the empty chair beside her. Although his mind seemed acutely aware that they were running on borrowed time, Steve swore that the night would last forever. Time was edging on despite his best efforts to run backwards against the current; he would never be fifteen again, and their relationship would never be from a clean slate again.

She thanked him quietly. Another stolen kiss followed. The night grew thin around them, their classmates retiring to whatever lives they put on pause for the night's trip down memory lane, but neither could be bothered to tear themselves away. Heather was quiet for some time afterwards, trying to make sense of her emotions. Steve turned to her, forehead pulled in thought:

“We made quite the mess, didn’t we?”

Heather paused, tearing herself away from the fears of yesterday. Her eyes flickered to him. She smiled sadly. All Steve has to do was stay. When it was Heather’s turn to choose Steve, she decided to run instead. It seemed neither of them had the courage to face the very real feelings between them that even time and betrayal couldn’t seem to erase.

“Yeah,” she said eventually. “We sure did.”

He chuckled dryly, rubbing his palms together in thought. The universe seemed to laugh at them, to revel in the tragedy of their bad timing; love itself just wasn’t enough to make them work. His eyes begged Heather to ease his nerves. Steve needed Heather to give him some sign that this was more than just in his head.

“Why is this so hard for us?”

The worry in his tired face looked all too familiar to Heather. A sinking feeling returned to her stomach.

It wasn’t until the summer after graduation that Heather let herself start to forgive Steve for breaking her heart. With the drama and confines of high school now behind them, Heather and Steve vowed to make that summer theirs. A last hurrah of bad decisions with minimal consequences. What they intended to be a string of crashed house parties and getting drunk by the quarry instead was a summer filled with late-night conversations on the hood of Steve’s car. With Heather often teetering between sunburnt and sun-kissed after a shift at the community pool and Steve sticky and burnt out from serving ice cream at Starcourt Mall, they lacked much time or energy to live out the summer they outlined.

Neither of them really minded the extra time to themselves. In fact, Steve soon found himself excited for his shift to end and comforted by the knowledge that Heather was waiting for him in the parking lot, food in hand. By late June, Heather had his order memorized and Billy Hargrove had stopped trying to get her to hang around with him past closing time. That was how they found themselves devouring take out from Dairy Queen, still in their work uniforms, and sitting closer than necessary on the BMW.

She wiped the grease from her fingers with a napkin, laughing. Heather caught a glimpse of Steve in her peripheral vision- dripping with happiness, a shine to his eyes, his Scoops Ahoy sailor hat sagging lowly on his head.

Having Heather back in his life, even if only for brief, stolen moments on the hood of his BMW and late summer nights thick with their past, the future; it patched up the broken parts of his battered heart. She felt like home. It might only be for the summer, but Steve fully intended to hold onto every second with Heather that he could.

“Hey, Steve?”

He looked so eager, so happy to see her. Steve wouldn’t even know what hit him. That summer, he slowly tore down the walls their break-up built against her and she knew from the start that she couldn’t take him with her. The thing about running away from her problems, it seemed, was that Heather had to abandon every good thing in her life right along with the bad. Unfortunately, that included Steve.

She knew she should have told him from the beginning, that she never should have let herself get that close to him again so soon before leaving town. Heather should have told him, and yet she couldn't bring herself to break it to him. Not that Heather hadn’t tried to; she had, many times. It just hurt too much.

His laughter tapered off into an inquisitive hum.

“Do you ever think about leaving Hawkins?”

Maybe it had treated him less than kindly the past year or so, but it was still the only home Steve had ever known. The thought of skipping town never crossed his mind. He decided a long time ago that he would stand his ground and fight until his dying breath if he had to- Steve was braver, more stubborn than Heather that way. Another reason she would tell herself they didn’t work out; Steve Harrington was a fighter but Heather Johnson was a survivor. And sometimes that meant putting herself first.

“No, I can’t say that I have. Why?”

She shrugged, uncharacteristically shy:

“I don’t know,” she balled the napkin up into a makeshift stress ball. “I-I just think maybe I need to get out of this town, Steve. Parts of me can’t seem to shake what I saw, what I did-“

She let Barbara Holland die. Heather watched from her bedroom and did nothing as the thing ate her whole. And when she saw the damn thing again, she hadn’t been strong enough to kill it. She couldn’t save its future victims.

“Hey,” Steve pulled her under his arm. “Don’t say that, okay? You did what you could… We all did. It’s not your fault.”

Tilting her chin upwards with his fingertips, Steve pressed a meaningful kiss to her lips. She leaned into him. His embrace quieted her thoughts enough to mute her worries away. It wasn’t the first kiss they shared that summer, but something hid behind it that made Heather unable to shake him- so much so that she lost her nerve to break the news to him. She left Hawkins the next morning, while Steve dreamt of seeing her again.

The guilt ate at her from the inside out until the town she once loved only suffocated her with living nightmares and her own inadequacies. Deep down, Heather knew that running away from her problems would not solve anything. Still, she craved a change of scenery, an escape from the reminders of what Hawkins truly was under its all-American suburban facade. Hawkins was, quite simply, home to the gates of Hell and Heather didn’t want to stick around and wait for them to crack their way open again.

They had, eventually, done just that; only, Heather wasn’t by Steve’s side that July Fourth when he needed her the most.

Steve stood abruptly, offering her his hand:

“You want to get a drink?”

Nodding, she smiled. The last thing she wanted was to leave Steve’s side. Heather took his hand and followed him through the parking lot. They walked in a comfortable silence. She squeezed his hand in hers.

“Steve?”

The pair paused beside his car. Heather glanced up at him with the guilt of a child caught breaking their parents’ valuables while playing inside the house.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was leaving,” she paused. “I should have.”

Steve’s eyes softened. He brushed loose hair from her face, smiling sadly.

“I know you are,” he said. “It’s okay, Heather. That was a long time ago.”

Forgiven or not, Heather still juggled her feelings of guilt and lingering feelings for Steve between stolen glances on the drive home. He may have absolved her, but Heather still needed

to forgive herself first.

“Come on,” Steve opened the passenger door. “How ‘bout that drink?”

---

The pair of them stumbled into Steve’s old bedroom between stolen kisses and wandering hands. Retracing steps from a lifetime ago, they fumbled blindly in the dim lighting, too utterly consumed in each other to care much for the world outside those walls. There was only the electric rush of pure, raw sexual chemistry and unresolved feelings.

Steve pulled back momentarily, lips dripping in unspoken words. Heather shook her head, stroking his cheek sensually with her thumb:

“Not now, Steve,” she shushed him, her waiting kiss soaking up his silent fears.

He pulled her hips flush against his torso, working blindly on her dress zipper. Steve’s rough palms explored every inch of her flesh that he could reach. He pinched purple hickies into the crook of her neck, chasing after her as her head flopped in pleasure. Heather hadn’t let anyone mark her skin that way in years. Steve made her feel young again, like his touch was the Fountain of Youth and she was Ponce de Leon, drinking him in deeply.

Her dress pooled on the floor around her feet as Steve pushed the thin straps from her shoulders. She looked even more mesmerizing than he remembered. Heather grew into her curves; time transformed her from a bewitching teenage beauty to the woman of Steve’s dreams. And he wanted to feel, to taste, every inch of her.

Spreading her legs apart ever so slightly, Steve dropped to his knees before her. He thumbed at her through the meager fabric of her lace panties. Another hickey on her smooth upper thigh. He groaned at the smell of her arousal. His expert mouth latched hungrily onto her core through the fabric.

Heather wriggled in pure, hot pleasure against his magical lips. Her fingers dug into his scalp, pulling on his hair just the way she knew drove him crazy. Steve pushed aside her panties, buried his nose, his lips into her most sensitive nerves. She tasted like heaven to him, the mere sight of her writhing above him an ethereal vision. Her taste dizzied him and Steve coddled her closer to his lips.

Steve loved the chase almost as much as the kill itself. He knew what he was doing, and knew he was damn good at it, too. If Steve had been a wolf in the bedroom as a teenager, then the only thing to stop him now was a silver bullet. And Heather was his full moon.

Her first orgasm hit hard and unexpectedly early, received by Steve’s eager tongue. He pulled her in by the neck for another kiss. The salty taste of her own arousal clinging to his breath intrigued Heather; touching Steve turned all her other experiences into blurry non-memories. Touching Steve felt like coming home after a long day.

The sight of Steve in all his naked glory sent Heather into a tizzy. She licked teasingly along his length, easing her way into giving him the head of his life. As she worked, Heather focused in on the bliss reflected in his face.

“Jesus,” he whined. “I forgot how good you were at that.”

Eager to be inside her, Steve reluctantly pulled her back up to her feet. He backed her up against the bed. Heather melted back against his pillows, a siren waiting for him to fall right into her trap. He kneeled over her figure. Steve kissed her sweetly. One hand thumbed at her clit. In one fluid motion, he pushed inside her.

Steve loved the way she clung to her. Her touch only egged him on. Steve rutted into her deeply. He made love to her with a veracity and dedication that put every other man she’d been with to shame. It was only Steve.

With one final grunt sandwiched by her name, Steve came deep inside of her.

She fell back against his sheets, spent in a fucked-out bliss. Heather felt her life in the city slipping further from her mind the more Steve Harrington and his magnificent cock drew her to a future here.

“Do you remember what you said to me the night Nancy and I broke up?”

Heather hummed in her sleepy daze, nodding:

“Sure, I do.”

“Did you mean it?”

She rolled over on the pillow to face him, fully awake now. Heather blinked through the darkness. Grasping in the dark, she clamped their hands together. From behind his messy hair, Steve looked like a shivering puppy left out in the rain. A soft smile graced her lips. She thought of the last time she saw that look.

“She never loved me.”

Nancy might have been the good girl toying around with Hawkins’ playboy, but instead she tore Steve to shreds and ran for the hills. Now, he wanted someone to sympathize with him. Heather, though, had no room in her life to be anyone’s second choice.

Heather tossed the hat to her candy striper costume on the duvet, sighing. She pawed at the vomit stain on her skirt with a damp towel. Perhaps the only person in town who had missed Steve and Nancy’s fallout, Heather left Tina’s party early to lull a dangerously intoxicated Brittany Matthews home before she ruined anyone else’s costume.

“What? Why are you even here, Steve?”

“I don’t know,” he shrunk down. “This is the first place I thought of.”

Oblivious to his pity party, Heather fussed about. She tried to clean the night’s memory of her drunken, sophomore team mate nearly passed out on Tina’s front porch right off her dress right along with the stain.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Steve?”

“Nancy,” he suddenly fell sheepish. “She never loved me.”

Heather watched after him, incredulous. Her hands gripped at the soiled towel as she bit her tongue. Steve, craving some sort of reaction from her, pressed on:

“I should have known,” he sulked. “I mean…God, when did I become such a fuck-up? This is bullshit. Of course it was. I should have known no one could love me-”

“Oh, fuck you! I did! I loved you so much, Steve. You had to have known that.

“What? Heather-”

“You broke my fucking heart, Steve. I’m not about to pretend that I didn’t see this coming and I’m sure as hell not your shoulder to cry on”

She tossed the soiled washcloth right at his chest. If Steve hadn’t been crying before, he sure was now. Still no movement.

“But-“

“I think you should leave.”

When he made no moves to do so, some part of her snapped right along with the last string of her heart that still reached out for Steve. She plucked the picture frame from her nightstand, their picture, and chucked it towards him, only narrowly missing his head. It landed on the floor under her dresser, as cracked and broken as their relationship, where it stayed until well after Heather graduated and left home.

“Get the fuck out, Steve.”

He faltered a moment, her words hitting him full-force with the one thing he must have known and feared but chose to ignore for the past year. Thick layers of tears caked his cheeks. Steve moved slowly and fluidly back towards the window he snuck in through, hoping all the while that he might uncover some magic words to undo the damage he slung onto her poor heart. He found only silence, and by the time his feet hit the ground, Steve knew he’d really done it this time.

He wanted only to be the carefree fifteen-year-old who got to kiss her in secret moments shared in the backseat of his BMW and late at night in her bedroom, when her parents were asleep. Steve wanted Heather back, but this was too little, too late. She locked the window behind him.

Looking at him now, her heart ached. The stubborn parts of her hadn’t forgiven him for breaking her heart all those years ago. Yet, she mostly just wanted him.

“Yes.”

Steve pressed his lips lightly to her knuckles.

“For what it’s worth, I loved you too.”

Steve leaned over the extra pillows to face her.  

When Steve awoke the next morning, he found himself surprised to see her messy hair splayed out across the pillow beside him, and utterly bewitched by the sight of Heather curling into the sheets as she slept soundly in his bed. He thought, though not for the first time in his life, that he might like to wake each day to the sight.

Later, as he walked her to her car, the idea still bounced around his mind. He grabbed at her hips, using every last drop of cheekiness to woo her away from that car. Steve let Heather go once before and he spent the next ten years regretting it.

“Stay.”

“You know I can’t.”

“What’s keeping you?

She exhaled with a soft laugh. Her home, her friends, her career, all waited for her back in the city. The only thing Hawkins, Indiana had that New York City didn’t was Steve Harrington.

“I’m sorry,” she kissed his lips sweetly. “Goodbye, Steve.”

He stood at the curb, hands balled into his shorts pockets, and watched her drive off until the Honda turned out of sight. Steve smiled after her, sporting the same smile he’d flashed the first time he told her his name, only this time a bitterness hid behind it.

Like Lot’s wife fleeing Sodom, Heather knew better than to turn around, knew his puppy dog eyes would trap her here forever, melt her down into a pillar of salt. And, like Lot’s wife, she did anyways.

She knew she’d see him again, if only in her dreams.

-----

Heather nervously twirled the phone cord around her finger. She stared at the slip of paper and dialed his phone number, her mind stuck over the words. The last time she felt this afraid, Heather lodged an axe into the neck of an interdimensional monster. This time, though, she knew that wouldn’t solve her problems.

“Steve? I need to see you.”

The trek to Indiana did little to calm her nerves. She drove silently, the radio turned down to silence. No matter how many times Heather practiced the speech in her head, it didn’t get any easier.

She stood at his doorstep. Fiddling with her hands, she contemplating blowing him off. Heather felt out of place at his apartment. To her, Steve would always be the boy next door. No matter what happened tonight. She thought of him always as he was then- handsome, full of life, brimming with dreams. Full of love for her.

When he opened the door to let her in, Steve couldn’t dull his smile. He looked almost the same as the boy in her memories. The love hadn’t quite left his eyes yet. It was with the comfort of this thought that she stepped inside.

Steve’s apartment was neat, small, homely. She could see him settling down before the TV with a beer or fussing over his hair in the mirror by the door. The thought made her smile.

He sat down with her on the couch, hands clasping with hers. His bright eyes watched her closely, waiting and ready to accept her back into his life.

“Is everything okay? You sounded upset on the phone.”

“I just- I wanted to talk.”

“Talk?”

He blinked. Steve knew this song and dance and he was tired of trying to keep her here. Tired of letting her toy with his heart.

“I haven’t seen or heard from you in months and you came all this way just to talk?”

Steve told himself he would hear her out, but his emotions got the best of him. He raised his voice in frustration. The abrupt shift in tone caught her off guard. She hadn’t meant to upset him. Heather deflated in her seat, the speech she’d had prepared now stuck in her throat.

“Forget it,” she rose. “I don’t even know why I came here.”

He followed her out onto the sidewalk. Heather walked out of his life too many times for him to let her go again.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know! Home, I guess.”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me again!”

The brunette stopped in her tracks, whirled around to face him. Angry, frustrated tears welled in her eyes. He stood just close enough for her to touch. Close enough for her to feel his heart breaking.

“And why not? We both already know how this ends.”

“I love you so much that it hurts. Why can’t you just admit that you want this, too?”

“That’s not why I came back, Steve.”

“Well, then, what? Is this some kind of a game to you-“

“I’m pregnant.”

His expression blanked. Steve didn’t know the first thing about fatherhood. His own gave him next to nothing to start from; the last thing he wanted was to find himself repeating his father’s shitty parenting style. He liked to think that he had finally shed the damage his absentee parents did to him, and that he had found a way to fill the gap their cold demeanor created where affection should have been in his childhood, but that didn’t stop his fears of repeating the vicious cycle.

Heather looked just as afraid.

“Do you really think we’re ready to be parents?”

“No,” he held her hand tighter in his. “But I know that I’m not my father and we can learn from our parents’ mistakes. You’re my future, Heather”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course, I do.”

They sat together on his front porch steps. Silence engulfed them for a moment as her earth shattering news settled in. Fear crept back up on Heather the longer he stayed quiet. Did Steve want to raise this child with her? Did he want her? Her questions and insecurities were overwhelming.

She broke into tears. “I’m scared, Steve.”

“Me, too.”

He held her close to his chest as she cried. A few tears slipped from his own eyes. Steve combed his fingers through her hair and whispered comforts into her ear. Suddenly, he saw a future for himself. A modest, comfortable cottage with a nice yard for the kids to play in, maybe a dog too, and Heather standing beside him with all the love in the world in her eyes. It was comforting, warm. He wanted that future, with her.

“Stay here, with me. I love you, Heather, and I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll have me.”

Sniffling, she turned her chin upwards to face him.

“Okay,” she said. “Yes, I will. I love you, too, Steve.”

As he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, Steve knew that everything would turn out okay. He loved Heather Johnson and that was enough for him.

[platypan]

Strangest: Chapter 4/5

「Previous chapters on AO3 」

“Steve,”  Dustin sighed, shaking his head.  “Steve, Steve, Steve.” He reached out and patted Steve’s shoulder, staring into his eyes.

Steve scooted back, the entire desk sliding sideways out of the row with a screech.  “What the hell? Sorry I didn’t pick up the phone? I guess? It was three o’clock in the morning, guys.  Do you know why Eleven wanted to talk to Billy Hargrove?”

“Probably she thinks he kicked your ass again!  He’s lucky Mom didn’t wake me up,” Max growled, dropping to sit on the desk Steve was facing across the tiny aisle.  “My mom told Eleven it was a school night and hung up, or I’d have...come gotten him.” She rolled her shoulders.

“Uh,” Steve held a hand up.  

“My little sister told me you both burned to death,” Lucas put in, leaning next to her.  “That was my morning!” he flailed his arms.  “We’re getting in the car to pick Max up, and she’s like ‘Oh Lucaaaaaas, your girlfriend’s brother died in a fire at Harringtooooon’s.”

Steve could easily imagine the scene, and snorted.  “Did she put her hands on her hips?”

“She sang it,” Lucas hissed back.

“Steve,” Dustin huffed, glaring around.  “Everyone. We’re all war veterans now, so--”

“What the hell, man, you are not a war veteran,” Lucas punched his arm.

“The Second War of Hawkins,” Dustin scoffed.  “Uh, yeah we are. I thought you guys had my back on this, come on--”

“No, I said it was stupid.”

“Wow, I sure do not want to be late for school,” Steve started to stand, and Max kicked his knee.

“Don’t kick him, he might be dying, he spent a whole night with your brother--” Dustin wailed, clutching at Steve’s hand, and the desk creaked as Steve jerked back.

“That’s not what a war veteran is,” Lucas hissed.

“Lucas, you’re making the most sense,” Steve pointed, and Dustin gasped.  “Your turn.”

“Thank you,” Lucas rolled his eyes.  “I know you gave them all that whole stupid speech about Billy being Clifford--”

“That’s so dumb,” Max groaned.

“--but what he is is an alcoholic shithead, and you should tell him to fuck off.  Show him the bat again.” Steve muffled a snort at the thought of Ms Williams showing her dogs the squirt bottle.

“You could also call me, or Hopper,” Max was counting off on her fingers.  “Or me. Or that old black lady next to you could probably run him off with her dogs.”

Dustin clutched his heart.  “Mrs Williams is archangel to a chorus of darlings, how dare you.”

“A what,” Max paused.

“Shut up, Dustin,” Lucas rolled his eyes.  

“A group of angels can also be called the host,” Dustin waggled his eyebrows at Max, who leaned away, nose wrinkled, “--which is hilarious because that’s what they feed you and call it Jesus--”

“I don’t give a shit about Jesus, Dustin--”

“What is Eleven planning with Billy?” Steve interrupted.  “And Mike?”

“We don’t know, Steve,” Max punched the desk, “--because you wouldn’t answer the phone, so we had no clue what was going on!  And now Eleven’s probably--” she growled, punching the desk again.  

“What happened,” Lucas scooted closer to her.  “Last night.”

“Welllll,” Steve considered how much of Billy’s business was none of theirs.  “Billy came over. He was drunk off his ass. He’s loud. Mrs. Williams heard him and called the police.”

“Don’t lie to us, Steve--” Dustin sighed, and Lucas and Max interrupted while he paused for drama.

“What about the fire,” Lucas stared him down.

“Did he finally set your mom on fire?” Max’s grin was more a baring of teeth, and she’d never reminded Steve so much of her brother.

“He was doing some dumbshit drunk shit out there!” Steve rubbed his eyes.  “Nobody got hurt, much--”

“Much?!” Dustin yelped.  “I’m calling Hopper--”

“Billy fell--” Steve pushed him back onto the desk, “--and clonked his head on the bolt of the front door, and then he got blood all over my couch, that’s all.”

Max’s eyes were narrowing, and Steve spread his hands.  “That’s really it, pretty much, I need to--” the door creaked open, and he shoved Dustin behind him as Nancy poked her head in.  

“Everything okay?”

Steve cleared his throat, nodding, and let go of his white-knuckled grip on the bar of the desk, snorting.  What’d I think I was gonna do, grabbing the desk like a melee weapon.  Swing it around my head? Nancy cocked her head at his snickering, her eyebrows broadcasting concern.  She didn’t seem to register Dustin waving.

“Is Steve okay?” Will came in with her, wide-eyed, and Steve grimaced, hunching his shoulders.

“I’m great.  Sorry I freaked you out.”

“Oh, Will gets a ‘sorry’?” Lucas smacked his shoulder.

“I was doing first aid,” Steve rolled his eyes.  “Head wounds bleed like crazy.”

“He fell into the door,” Max repeated.

“Well, first he went to Carol’s and took all her beer and tequila, and then he came over, tripped on the mat, and conked his head on my door,” he shrugged, as Nancy tried to muffle her snort.  “I tried to catch him!”

Max nodded, picking at her shoelaces.

“We should get to class,” Nancy squeezed Will’s shoulder, and he smiled up at her.  

“Oh, you just got here, stick around a while!” Dustin beamed at her, and Steve pushed him back into his seat again.  

“Wait!” Lucas yelled.  “You didn’t agree to anything!”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Steve grabbed his bag, waving to his posse.  “Later, Junior Heroes.”

 Billy was parked out front when Steve wandered out of his last class, letting Carol light his cigarette.  “Soooo last night,” she reached in her shirt and readjusted her boobs, sort of fluffing them, like pillows.  “Why’d you leave?” she leaned in with her aired-out cleavage barely contained, and pressed Billy up against the car, and Steve stopped to watch, leaning against one of the poles holding up the roof.  Her slight nose wrinkle and redirect from Billy’s mouth nearly made him laugh aloud, remembering the vomiting sounds that morning.

“Wanted to fuck up Harrington,” Billy cupped his mouth to smell his breath, and snorted.  “You said he’d be there.”

“We don’t need him,” she pointed out, just as a yell came from behind Steve--Billy glanced up, saw Steve, and smirked--and Tommy ran out to stomp up to his girlfriend and the boy she held captive against his car.  

“What the hell are you doing?” Tommy yelled, and she nodded her head from side to side, and rolled her eyes, pulling her hand out of Billy’s jacket.  

“What the hell are you doing, Tommy?”

Tommy rallied with a “Nuh-uh, you,” and she started mimicking his words as noises.

Under cover of their argument, Steve walked casually around the parked cars and slid in to Billy’s shotgun seat, then slowly leaned across to crack the window.  

“Sluh-uhhh-ut,” Carol singsonged, fingernails deep in Billy’s denim-covered bicep.

“Slutitty slut slut,” Tommy shouted back, grabbing her arm, and Steve covered his cackles with both hands, watching his limited view of Billy’s back tilt away from them.  

“You wish you could be a slut,” Carol stomped her feet, and Billy’s back was shaking.  Steve slid closer to the driver’s seat, prodding the denim arm through the window.  Billy jerked, frowning down, but Tommy had distracted Carol by accusing her of wishing she was a stud, and they didn’t notice.  Steve waved, and Billy grinned at him, looking not particularly worse for wear if you allowed for the blood still in his ear and what looked like a hangover for the Guiness Book of World Records.  In clear view of the window, he slid his hand down to squeeze Carol’s butt cheek.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Brush your teeth,” Tommy retorted.  “Fuckhead!”

Billy slid in the car, nearly crushing Steve as he dropped across his legs, and yanking the door closed as Max ran up, yelling.  “I thought you were popular.  And they were your fuckin’ friends?”

“He’s got a point,” Steve gasped, as Max banged at the window.  “You smell like you’ve been eating tequila worms. In a grave.”

“You like it,” Billy snorted, his shoulder digging into Steve’s as he leaned in to rub his head against Steve’s like a huge cat.

Steve snorted, but yanked a hand loose, sliding it up to cup the back of Billy’s skull.  He ran his thumb over the soft curls. “Not really.” God, he’s foul.  Steve could see Max’s back leaning against the window on one side, and Carol’s leg around Tommy on the other.  Her dress had hiked up to show his hand in her panties. “Usually...maybe,” he admitted, and Billy huffed a laugh, curling into him.  “Today, though...” Steve felt Billy’s warm bulk coaxing him to sleep.   I’ll use less oxygen if I’m asleep anyway, he thought muzzily.  Won’t matter he’s crushing my lungs and smells like asshole.  “...thought you were so worried somebody’d figure you out.”

Billy snorted against his neck.  “Who’s lookin’? They’ll just think I’m fucking with you.”

“You stink but my last class I was freezing,” Steve mumbled, letting his eyes close.  

“You sayin’ I’m hot,” Billy’s teeth grazed his ear.

Max smacked the door with the flat of her hand, but she was yelling to somebody else in the parking lot.

“I know somewhere to park, and I’m kinda...hungry,” Billy slid his hand down Steve’s stomach, hooking a finger on the front of his jeans.  His thumb slid up and down Steve’s fly, and Steve groaned.

“I need a shower and sleep,” Steve muttered into his curls, which needed a wash, but were further from the smells of tequila, vomit, and the bitter, rank sweat of fear.  “You need a...a hosing down or something.”

Max turned to bang on the window, and Billy scrambled over Steve’s legs into the driver’s seat, hitting him, somehow, with at least five elbows enroute.  Steve yelped, tucking his legs up against the door. “Fuck you,” Billy muttered.

“I’ll kiss you when you’ve brushed your teeth,” Steve rubbed his face, and Billy rolled up the window Tommy and Carol were smooching against.  

“Let me in,” Max mouthed, eyes narrowed, and Steve unlocked the door.  She yanked it open, growling at Billy, and shoved Steve and his seat forward against the dash.  Her backpack smacked Steve on the head as she clambered in to the back, and Billy snorted. “You smell like the Marlboro Man’s zombie,” she kicked Billy’s seat.  “What the fuck. You smell like a dead dog rotting in a distillery vat, what the hell.  Is it gangrene?”

“Shut your face,” Billy lit a cigarette, and she gagged.

“You coulda taken a shower in PE,” Steve leaned his head against the glass, watching Billy slowly lower the handbrake so they’d coast backward without alerting Tommy and Carol to their lack of support.  

“I was out looking at that bus,” Billy bared his teeth in a grin, letting the car roll backwards out of the parking spot so his side mirror nearly knocked Carol and Tommy to the ground.  Tommy scrambled up, trying to punch the car, but Billy shifted and gunned it, sliding out of the lot.

“What bus,” Max leaned up between their heads.

“The fucking bus,” Billy clenched his teeth.  “The one with clawmarks in it.”

“Oh,” Max dropped back out of view.

“The fuck happened in that bus, Harrington.  Your kids wouldn’t say anything.  She hadn’t even seen it, what the hell was that about?  The boy made it sound like--like a fucking wolf pack.”

“Ha,” Max snorted.  “Close enough.”

“Huh,” The car was warm from the sun.  Steve’s eyelids felt like when a sponge has been sitting out so long it can’t even absorb water.  He let them close, until his seat bucked as Max started kicking again.

“What happened,” Billy asked her, and she snorted.

“Oh, yeah, I tell you things.”

“Steve,” Billy hit the horn, and Steve’s head smacked back against the seat.  

“Druh,” he rubbed his face.  “Mwuh. The fuck do you want.”

“He said you had to barricade them in there.  There was blood.”

Steve shrugged, wishing he could crawl in the back and nap.  “I guess so.”

“Could you have died?  What the fuck was the sheriff doing?!” Billy braked suddenly for a turn, and Steve’s face nearly hit the dash.

“Christ, are you two fucking?” Max stuck her head forward again, and Billy’s tires screeched as he ran off the road and up the grassy shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, Max,” he took a long draw off his cigarette and turned off the engine, but clenched the steering wheel with both hands.

“Did you forget what he said, you fucking--you bag of shit--”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t you dare--don’t you fucking tell him, Max--”

“I wouldn’t tell him,” she yelled back, smacking his shoulder and head.  “I’d never tell him, you fuck,  what the fuck are you doing--”

“Jesus,” Steve whispered, and Max grabbed his jacket, yanking his face close enough to snarl into.  

“You--you morons,” she gritted out, swallowing hard.  “Steve, if you fucking--if anyone--if you say a fucking word--”

“I...won’t tell anyone,” he glanced at Billy, who’d leaned his head in his elbow, against the steering wheel, then back to Max, whose breaths were hissing through her teeth.  Her freckles didn’t soften her fury. “Nancy knows.” Steve admitted. “She won’t say anything.”

“What the hell did you--why the fuck--”

“Look, she asked--”

“Billy had a magazine with Rob Lowe on it,” Max yanked him closer, whispering in his ear.  Billy threw the door open, stumbled out, slammed the door again, and paced back and forth in front of the car, kicking at the grass and trying to light a cigarette.

“What,” Steve bit his lips together, feeling the familiar adrenaline sweat prickle on his hands.  “The--Rob Lowe from The Outsiders?  I think Carol has him in her locker.  The poster’s worn in the middle because she kisses him before tests.”  Why am I telling her, he wondered, stomach clenching, but the adrenaline felt good clearing his head.

“He used it to show him how to use the nail gun, Steve,” she kicked his seat, dropping out of sight as her voice got thicker.  “Told him there’s a safety, you can’t just shoot nails, you have to be up against something solid, and then he slammed Billy’s shoulder into the wall and shot five nails into the head of the picture in his hand.”

“...no wonder he likes it at my house,” Steve said, on autopilot, watching Billy pace.  “We’re--”

“I don’t wanna know, shut up, eugh,” she shuddered.  

“We’re not doing much,” he got out before she could cut him off.  “Has he--”

“Gross, god, I thought you liked Nancy.”

“I,” he took a deep breath.

“No, gross, why are you telling me, Billy!” she shrieked, and he scrambled to open the door.  

“What,” he dropped back into the seat, hand over his face.  “What.” He wiped his eyes, but his voice was so thick Steve started rummaging around his bag for his PE towel.

“You’re so disgusting,” she moaned, and Billy flinched.  “You stink, Steve, what is wrong with you--”

“He doesn’t always stink,” Steve handed over the towel, shoving it at Billy’s head until he took it, burying his face.  “Want a water bottle?”

“Go wash your face,” Max reached up to push him.  “Scrub your face off. I don’t wanna get in a--jesus, we kinda wrecked.”

“The car’s fine,” Billy snorted juicily, accepting the bottle Steve slapped into his hand and retreating from the car to dump it over his head over by the treeline.

“He’s always hanging around boys,” she wrinkled her nose.  “If his dad sees him he’ll…” she groaned into her knees, and Steve flapped an arm back to pat her back.  The hair that brushed his fingers was coarser than Billy’s, but the low “fuck...fuck...fuck…”s she was muttering were all Hargrove.

“...do you think he’d actually do it?”

“...not the nailgun,” she snorted.  “He doesn’t wanna go to jail. He thinks Billy’ll take care of himself, with the drinking and the…” she curled up around her bag, growling into the seat.  

“The what,” Steve watched Billy scrubbing his face, probably for a good while longer than he needed to.  Breathe, he reminded himself, though the adrenaline usually did a pretty good job of that.  He never breathed so well as when he was hunting imaginary monsters in the dead of night.

“He thinks he’ll get in a drunk wreck and die and it’ll just be me and him and my mom and he keeps saying it,” she choked out.  “He wants him to die, Steve, he talks about it all the time--”

“Christ,” Steve patted her sneaker, the only part he could reach, and she gave a wet snort and blew her nose on her sleeve.

“I don’t give a shit,” she kicked the seat again.

“Yeah?”  Billy was trying to neatly fold the towel, for some reason, and Steve sighed, watching him set his shoulders and turn back towards the car.

“If Billy’s dead,” Max whispered, “--what about when he gets mad,” and then the door opened, and Billy tossed him the towel and the empty bottle, his face red and scrubbed.

Steve shoved them into his bag, “...let’s get Max home.”

“Gotta drop you off,” Billy said hoarsely, checking the mirror before backing out onto the asphalt.  

“Nobody’s gonna tell,” Max reached up to slap his side.  “Go hang out with Steve. I’ll tell him it’s a party, he loves that.”

Billy laughed, cracking the window to hold his cigarette out of it, and stole a glance at Steve, who nodded.  “Cock suckin’ party.”

“You are so fucking nasty,” she moaned.  

“Is he letting you spend a lot of time with Lucas?” Steve turned to ask her.

“I guess?” she frowned at him.

“Make better friends with Eleven.”

She slouched back in the seat, dropping her gaze, as Billy glowered between them, then back at the road.  

“Seriously.  She’s the sheriff’s kid, he can’t mind that.  You don’t have to tell her about. Things.”

“Oh really?”  Max cackled.  “I shouldn’t warn Eleven.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell her there’s a reason you wanna be friends.  You two’d get along, though, I think. Mike and them keep trying to put her in dresses.”

“I thought her name was Eleanor,” Bully muttered, and Max punched his seat.

“Yeah, fuckface, Mike lied.”

“Whatever,” Steve rolled his shoulders, letting his eyes close again.  “Make friends with her. Teach her to skateboard, maybe.”

“...huh,” Max was quiet for the rest of the ride to their house, until she smacked the back of Billy’s head on the way out.  “You moron,” she sighed. Billy lunged half across Steve after her, but she just waved, sauntering to the door.

“Let’s get back,” Steve pushed him back into the driver’s seat.  “Shower.”

“Right away, your majesty,” Billy leaned his arm across the back of Steve’s seat to back out, and then left it there for the drive.  A few turns before Steve’s house, a sheriff’s station car swerved out behind them, siren blasting, and Billy snorted. “Think I could outrun ‘em.”

Steve reached over and grabbed the wheel, but Billy was already veering to the shoulder, rolling down the window, and unhitching his belt.

“We weren’t speeding,” Steve leaned to try and see who got out of the car--he vaguely recognized the deputy in the passenger seat as they parked half in the lane of traffic to block the front half of Billy’s car toward the woods.  “...Sheriff Hopper isn’t in there. What--”

Both deputies got out, one walking to Steve’s side, the other banging on the roof on Billy’s side.  “Get out. Hands on the roof.”

“We weren’t speeding, what--” Steve frowned at the deputy on his side, before registering the one on Billy’s side unsnapping his holster.  “What the hell--”

“Shut up,” Billy growled, climbing out to get shoved against his car.  

“What the hell is going on,” Steve tried to open the door, and the deputy on his side frowned at him, knocking it closed with his hip.

“Wha--Steve Harrington?”

Feeling on steadier ground, Steve nodded, eying the one that had Billy braced against the car, his hand braced near his holster.  “Yeah, why’d you pull us over?”

Steve’s deputy bent to frown in at him.  “Why you drivin’ around with the likes of Billy Hargrove?”

“Uh--” Steve shrugged, hoping Billy wouldn’t elbow the deputy in the face.

“What’s goin’ on, son?” the one holding Billy’s wrist against the car, the white one, smiled.  “Now, I know you’re from a good family, I heard about you from your dad--” he began, and Steve shoved at his door again, hitting his deputy’s leg.  

“Let me out,” Steve hissed, but the deputy on his side must have been listening to the other one lecturing Billy.

“How many of these talks we gonna have to have?  You shouldn’t be drivin’ around with our Sheriff’s little girl in your car.”

“She climbed in, and she told me where she wanted to go,” Billy snarled, and got shoved against the car again for his trouble.

Steve crawled into the driver’s seat.  “She did, officer,” he tried. “Seemed better not to argue with her--”

“That’s as may be, son.  Now, Billy. Your father seems like a reasonable man, how many times you gonna make him call the station?  Now, we’re gonna need you to walk a straight line, and Officer Powell here is gonna search your vehicle.”

Shit, Steve thought, hoping there weren’t twenty bottles of hard liquor under every seat, or like...marked bills in a bloody briefcase, but when Officer Powell finally opened the door, he clambered back across and out.  

“What’re you doing with--?” Powell asked, jerking his head towards Billy, who was swinging his arms to touch his nose, and baring his teeth at a lecture about curfew.

“I had a rough night,” Steve cleared his throat, and the man nodded.  “He gave me a ride, that’s all.”

“Huh,” Powell leaned in to poke through the glove compartment.

“He’s not so bad,” Steve ran his fingers through his hair, sighing.  “I don’t know what his dad told you, but…”

“Heard he beat you up pretty good,” Powell glanced back, eyebrow raised.

“...we fought,” Steve grimaced.  “Yeah. But he’s not...he’s not what his dad says he is, is all.”

“I don’t know about his having a good, reasonable family,” the black deputy raised an eyebrow. “I do know you can’t tell from a glance.  I also know the man’s right about him getting in fights,” he checked under the seats, then brushed himself off, and Steve hove a silent sigh of relief.  “And driving drunk. And judging by the smell in here,” he lifted what looked like a broken chunk of beer bottle, and Steve cleared his throat, grimacing.

“...he’s helped me out a lot,” he said finally.  

“Be even more helpful if he doesn’t get his license taken away,” Powell scooted the passenger seat forward, and began patting down the back seat.  “Or in a wreck.” Billy was reciting something, and Steve crossed his arms, shivering.

“I know, but...are you guys just gonna pull him over all the time, or…”

“We got a call that somebody saw him with Jane in his car.  Figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure we had his attention.”

“She’s his little sister’s friend,” Steve stretched the truth, hoping Max took his advice to call her up.

“Is she.  Well, our boss may not want him giving her rides.”

Hard to argue with, Steve thought.  

“If he’s out at night, though, or outside of town,” Powell clambered around to pop the trunk open.  “We’ve told his dad we’ll see him home, in his own car if he can drive it, or one of ours--” he walked back to lift the trunk, and paused, frowning into it.  

“What,” Steve ran to stand next to him, having visions of everything from cases of vodka to duct tape and a shovel.  Billy’d packed lidless boxes in, with neatly folded clothes, some LPs, two photo albums, and a folded Michelin map of the central and western United States.

“...he movin’ house?” Powell raised his eyebrows.

“...I think he wants to,” Steve leaned his face against the car with a groan.  Moments later, Billy stalked back, dropped into the driver’s side, and slammed the door, huddling to light a cigarette.  “You’re not supposed to let him leave town?”

“Mmm,” Officer Powell frowned into the trunk.  

Steve eyed him, and he nodded.  “...I better go.”

“Call the sheriff.  Keep him in the loop.”  Powell hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, eying the back of Billy’s head.  “He’s...your friend?”

“Yes?” Steve winced inwardly.  “I know it’s kinda…”

“That boy’s primed and loaded,” Powell shook his head.

“Yeah, he is,” Steve sighed, walking back around to drop into his seat and wait for the patrol car to pull away.

“The hell were you two gossiping about,” Billy revved the engine, pealing out between lanes.  

“Jesus, learn to drive,” Steve scrabbled for his seat belt, and Billy grinned, tapping the brakes to throw him forward.  “What were you, Mike, and El gossiping about?”

“They wanted Eggo waffles,” Billy frowned over, taking a deep draw on his cigarette.  “Your children are weird as shit.”

Steve bit his lips together, thinking of Dustin the war veteran, and Billy smirked over.  

“What’re you grinning about.”

“They are,” Steve leaned his face in his hand, shoulders shaking with laughter.  “They’re weird as hell, did you--did you seriously fucking take her to buy Eggos?”

“Fuck no, we went to IHOP,” Billy rolled his eyes.  “She tried every syrup, it was disgusting.”

“...she didn’t mind?” the tightness that clenched his lungs all day as he imagined Billy’s limp legs sticking out from under a pile of ten cars El was stacking like LEGO returned, but Billy just squinted over, cocking his head.

“...you think she’s weird and stupid?”

“No,” Steve shook his head.  “No, I would never, ever call El stupid.”  

“...the sheriff’s really protective, huh,” Billy’s knuckles whitened on his steering wheel.

“Oh.  Uh, I’ll ask him to call them off.  He said if they see you out at night they’ll be watching, though.  Or, uh, if you leave town.”

“...yeah.”  Billy shut his eyes, leaning his head back, and Steve yelled something and grabbed for the wheel again.  “It’s fine, Harrington, fuck off.”

When they finally pulled in to Steve’s driveway, Steve half fell out of the car, dragging his bag, and fumbled with his keys.  

“Jesus,” Billy grabbed them, unlocked the door, and pushed him inside.  

“I’m so tired,” Steve lurched for the stairs.  “Bed, oh my god.”

Billy followed him upstairs.  “Harrington,” he sang softly, swaying his hips as he lifted his shirt, and Steve let himself fall onto the bed grinning over.  

“There’re sweats in the drawer.”

“...thought you wanted a shower,” Billy paused, watching him fumble his shoes back out from under the covers and attempt to untie them.  

“Too tired,” Steve waved, eyes already closed.

 He awoke to Billy shouting his name, in the dark, feeling like his heart was about to explode out of his chest, and he had to--No, he told himself.  They’re never real, not--Billy Hargrove’s here.  His clothes were cold and wet, and his lungs hurt, so he breathed--at first in gasps--and Billy grabbed his shoulders, pulling him across a wood floor.  The shrieks of idiotic middle schoolers in over their heads and the smell of the dank tunnels gave way to the dim light of the stairway. His fingers were cold and numb.  Something slid out of his hand and clattered--from the feel and sound, his bat.

“What the fuck, Harrington,” Billy was panting against him.  “The fuck, what is--what are--what’s going on, Harrington.”  Steve worked the hand that’d been locked around the bat, realizing his teeth were chattering.

It hurt to use his voice.  “What’d I do?” he leaned into Billy’s warmth, slowly registering Billy yanking at his fingers, where they were locked around his arm.  Steve jerked his fingernails away from the other boy’s inner arm, feeling for the wall.

“The fuck was that,” Billy stumbled away from him.  “You almost hauled me down the fucking stairs, what the fuck--”

“Sorry,” Steve let his head thud against the wall, and tried to impose Billy’s hoarse shouting over the residual panic.  It was hard to hear over his thudding pulse. “Where’s Dustin, is Will--” he grabbed the bannister to pull himself up, and Billy shoved him back down, crouching next to him.  

“He’s not fuckin’ here, Steve--”

“Okay, okay,” Steve let himself be held in place, leaning his head into Billy’s shoulder.  He smelled like the antiseptic on his head, clean laundry, and his own cologne, and Steve breathed it in.  Billy’s the only monster here.  He snorted.  “...I...did I call anyone?  Shit.”

“The hell kind of nightmare was that,” Billy leaned in, breath warm against his hair.  “You’re insane.”

“Don’t usually get ‘em with you here,” Steve giggled, realizing they were hugging in his hallway in the dead of night.  “What good are you.”

Billy took a deep breath.  “...one thing about being garbage,” he said into the hair next to Steve’s ear.

“Hrm?” Steve pulled him closer, aware of the January air on his sweat-soaked t-shirt.

“...nobody believes what I say,” Billy breathed into his ear.  “If--if that’s why you won’t--”

“Shit,” Steve sighed, and Billy’s mouth shut with a click.  “No, goddammit.”

“Fuck you.  Sorry. I don’t even care,” Billy jerked away, covering all his conversational bases.

“No--” Steve squinted around, trying to blink back the dark haze in case it was more in his head than the hall, then scooped his bat off the floor.  He grabbed the bannister again to pull himself up--his knees felt structurally unsound--and leaned on it, stalking back to his room. “Look, I’ll ask Hopper whether I can tell you if you want, but he’s probably gonna say no, and he’s gonna wanna know why you know I--do that.  Now.”

“That’s why the stupid cartoons, isn’t it.  No,” Billy followed. “Fuck no, don’t, it’s fine, I don’t need him pissed at me.  That’s what you do when you’re alone?”

“No, sometimes I just scream,” Steve dropped into the desk chair, pulling his wet shirt over his head.  “Once I called the police and sent them to the Byers’.” He pressed his fists against his eyes, willing the stinging to stop.

“...I can make hot chocolate.”  He grabbed an old mug from Steve’s desk, hovering by his elbow.

“No, stay here,” Steve laughed, blood pounding with adrenaline.  I almost miss the usual fog in my head, it keeps me from wondering how I’m gonna last the next five years if the only sleeping pill that works is Billy Hargrove--

Billy leaned in for a hard kiss, swinging his leg over to drop into Steve’s lap with enough force that the desk chair rolled the few feet to the bed.  The motion further unsettled Steve’s stomach, but the warmth was good. “Mm,” he said softly, letting his eyes slide shut, losing himself in Billy’s gentle teeth biting at his lips and tongue.  As the chair tipped and resettled, unprepared for two squirming basketball players, he dropped a hand to hold Billy’s ass securely on his lap. The other, he slid through the hair above Billy’s right ear, avoiding the gash from the night before.

Billy jerked back with a whine.  “Harrington,” he hissed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders.  “What--”

His hot breath against Steve’s face was coming faster, so Steve opened his eyes, blinking into Billy’s reddened ones.  “What’s wrong?”

“Like I’d know,” Billy grinned, watching his face, then relaxed against his chest again, laughing into a kiss.

Steve groaned softly, feeling his hips buck up at Billy’s hot weight.  “Mnn. No. What--nn.”  As Billy struggled with the fly, Steve slid a hand down as well, tugging Billy’s black t-shirt up, and sliding his hand down between jersey and taut abs.  Billy’s whole body went stiff against him.

“Where you headed,” his voice sounded hoarse against Steve’s chin.

“Uh,” Steve paused.  “Same...as...you?”

“Liking kissing and blowjobs is normal,” Billy grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling it out of his pants.  His hand on Steve’s wrist felt bruisingly tight, and Steve jerked at it. The chair creaked. Billy leaned to whisper against his mouth.  “What the hell are you doing, Steve Harrington.  King Steve.”  

“Lemme go,” Steve yanked again, feeling his wrist bones grinding together.  “Let go of me, Hargrove--” he yanked himself loose, the chair slowly spinning with the momentum of his flung arm, and Billy fumbled for the tie at the front of his sweatpants, trembling against Steve’s shoulder as he finally jerked them loose and down, and slid a cold sweaty hand against Steve’s dick.  

Steve yelped, grabbing Billy’s wrist.  “Jesus, Billy.”

“It’s just a hand, Harrington,” Billy stared into his eyes, mouth quirking.  “Or I got a mouth if you can wait for five seconds to get your pants down.”

Steve felt the chill of his room, taking in the shine to Billy’s eyes, and his trembling.  “Sorry. I won’t do anything you don’t like,” Steve whispered, letting his eyes close at the thud through his collarbone as Billy dropped his forehead against it.  “...how’s your head?” He leaned back as Billy tried to shift closer, and the chair creaked and made a plasticky popping noise. They both froze. “--hey--”

It creaked again as Billy rolled his hips, and Steve let his eyes slide closed again at the giddy whirl up from his lower belly, biting at Billy’s lips, pink and hot from kissing.  “Billy,” he whispered, his breath warming where his tongue had just been. He slid his hands up Billy’s back, warming the cool muscles. “Hargrove.  On the bed.”

“Shut it, Harrington,” Billy snickered as the chair tilted again.  “Floor’s fine.”

“Come on.  Bed. You’re gonna--Billy--” he wrapped his arms tightly around the idiot, and Billy went still.  “Come on,” Steve whispered into his hair. “Come on to the bed.”

“Fuck you, Harrington, it’d be an accident, right,” Billy snorted, but allowed himself to be pushed back off the chair.  “Not like I’ve done anything--today--”

“God,” Steve whispered, trying to reach for Billy’s sweatpants as Billy bit at his fingers, sucking one into his mouth.  “If we get on the bed, we won’t fall on our asses and it won’t--jesus, let me--”

Billy growled, standing aside to yank at his pants before shoving them down to his ankles, hopping alongside the bed, kicking one pant leg off his foot, and dropping astride Steve’s upper thighs.  

“I heard there are classes for strippers, you could work on that,” Steve grinned at being confronted with Billy’s half-hard dick, and Billy punched at him, but let Steve catch his fist and pull him in for a kiss.

He took a shaky breath as Steve rolled to pin him, then laughed up.  “What you gonna do now you’ve got me?”

“I dunno,” Steve leaned his forearms across Billy’s, watching his breathing speed up.  It was hard not to stare at Billy’s dick--it’d firmed up abruptly with Steve on top--bobbing with Billy’s ragged breaths, and oozing precum to pool across Billy’s abs.  “Billy. You want me to stop?”

At the sound of his first name, Billy’s dick pulsed.  “Nah,” he swallowed, shuddering, but his skin felt even colder, and when Steve leaned in for a kiss, he flinched.  “Come the fuck on. Grab my hair again. I’ll get into it.”

Steve’s stomach clenched, and he rolled to drop along Billy’s warm side, sighing at the ceiling.

“Fuck you, Harrington,” Billy swung a leg off the bed, yanking at his arm, and Steve raised his head to free it.  

Steve stared at the ceiling, feeling the bed shake as Billy started giggling wetly, curled away from him.  “Dude,” Steve rubbed his face, eventually smacking a clumsy hand over Billy’s mouth as he tensed up to, Steve suspected, start yelling about something.  “I’m not gonna do anything to you, asshole.”

“I know,” Billy shook his hand off, laughing.  “You’re hard for me. It’ll be just like having a girl in your lap.”

“I mean, I’m not just gonna--just--lose my shit all of a sudden,” Steve threw a fist toward the ceiling, miming an explosion.

Billy rolled to laugh against his shoulder.  “Kaboom, mushroom cloud.”

“But you gotta tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like,” Steve sighed, rolling to watch Billy’s tense smile as Steve ran a thumb along his cheek.  

“‘S boring,” Billy pushed forward into a kiss, his mouth soft and open, and Steve groaned at the sudden hot hand fumbling with his dick through his briefs.  

“God, Billy,” he gripped handfuls of Billy’s shirt, kissing clumsily over his mouth and face as Billy kept pushing his hands back up there.

“D’you want my mouth,” Billy whispered.  “Feels just like a mouth, any mouth, Nanc--”

“...you want mine?” Steve cut him off before he had to get mad, feeling like his veins were running honey--warm and sweet.  No monsters ever existed, not in any stupid teen movie Billy Hargrove would be in.

“Fuck no, I know those rules,” Billy started army crawling down the bed.  “I’m a stupid piece of shit, but I’m not gonna--”

“What rule,” Steve grabbed his head, holding him in place for another kiss.  “Hargrove.”

Billy’s eyes fluttered shut, but then he wrested his head away, grinning.  “The ‘get too queer on you and get my head smashed into the fucking dumpster’ rule,” Billy tugged at his sweatpants, and Steve lifted his pelvis.  

“I’m not--oh jesus, Billy--” he lost his train of thought as Billy’s mouth slipped over his dick clear up to his lower belly, taking him in with no hesitation.  “Christ, how many cocks have you sucked, you’re fucking--you’re--fuck--Hargrove--”

Billy snickered around him, and Steve had no idea what he said then, under the influence of the vibrations of Billy’s throat.  Probably mostly laughing about how short a time it was gonna be, and entirely profane. Billy’s tongue was everywhere he wanted it--up stroking the bundle of nerves under the head, and down his length again--which was just as well, because with all the muscles in his body feeling like they were drawing in to the wet heat of Billy’s mouth, all Steve could do was focus on breathing and try not to pull his hair.  

Billy pulled off, looking up through his lashes, and Steve whined.  “Just yank on it, jesus,” he butted his head against Steve’s hand, and Steve got a handful of curls.  

He mumbled something around Steve’s dick as he sunk his lips over it again, and Steve breathed deep, chanting ‘fuck, jesus, fucking hell,’ as the vibration undid him.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve breathed, “Sorry, shoulda--shoulda warned you, jesus.”

Billy pulled off, eyes lowered, and wiping his mouth.  Steve flailed an arm down and dragged him back up the bed, rolling to wrap both arms and a leg around him, panting.  “God. I don’t...I don’t even...know what all I just... yelled,” he bit at Billy’s stubble.

“You should be thanking me for all that practise,” Billy mumbled, tense against him.

“Mmm.  Thanks,” he giggled, hugging him tighter.  “Thank you, thank you, happy to help you out anytime with your drills.”

Billy pulled back, studying his face.

“Oh my god,” Steve let himself roll onto his back.  “I haven’t felt this good since like. Everything happened.”

Billy snorted, ducking his head.  “Yeah, whatever. Lemme use your shower.”

“No, wait.  You still all ‘hands off’ about your dick?”

“...you don’t fucking want my cock in your hand, Steve, I’m not that stupid.”

“Okay,” Steve kissed his eyelids, his forehead, and the end of his nose.  

“S’not my mouth,” Billy growled, grabbing Steve’s chin and holding it in place to stop the kisses Steve was peppering his face. “The fuck are yoummph,” he kissed back.

His mouth’s even hotter than his face, Steve thought, trying not to giggle.  He wears more makeup than Nancy, and he tastes like me, gross.  “Oh, you’re shaking,” he snorted.  “Your balls are gonna explode blue.  Okay. C’mere.”

“Let me go be okay in the shower,” Billy grunted into another kiss, but pushed closer, running his hands up Steve’s ribs.

“How about you jack off,” Steve combed his fingers through the hair at the sides of Billy’s head, “--and I kiss you.  I’ll just kiss you. Your favourite thing.”

“Shut up, you’re not that good a kisser,” Billy leaned in to him, holding his breath as he tried not to pant.  “Jus’...my hand on my cock, right,” he whispered.

“Go ahead,” Steve cupped his jaw.  He could feel the skin he was kissing getting hotter, and he almost slid a hand down Billy’s neck and collarbones, but kept his hands where he’d promised.  Billy shuddered against him. “God,” Steve kissed across his eyelashes, his fingers on Billy’s neck reverberating with his thumping heart.

“It’ll--it’ll get on you,” Billy mumbled, but allowed himself to be pulled so close Steve could feel Billy’s clenched knuckles jerking up and down against his belly.

“Fuck,” Billy’s kisses got clumsy, his eyes fluttering shut, and Steve twined his fingers tighter in the silky brown curls, clenching his fist.  

Billy moaned, going limp and solid against him.  “...I need another fucking shower,” he whispered around kisses, and Steve snorted painfully, laughing against Billy’s sweaty shoulder.  

“Hey,” Steve ran his nails over the base of Billy’s skull and up the back of his head, grinning as an entire basketball player tried to fold into his hand like a cat.  

“Mmn,” Billy huffed back, pressing his face against Steve’s t-shirt.  

“I forgot about a condom.”  Billy went still. “I just…” Steve sighed.  “...how many dumpsters did you get slammed into?  What if I had syphilis?”  

“From Nancy Wheeler?” Billy barked with laughter.  “What the fuck.”

“There were ‘before Nancy’ times.  God, you shoulda heard the riot act she read me.  You ever use condoms?”

“...give the fucking blow job back,” he could feel the heat of Billy’s face through his shirt.    

“Jesus.  Go to the fucking doctor, you moron, find out whether my dick’s gonna fall off.  And don’t put anything in you without a sock on it.”

“I wasn’t fucking...outside the bar, taking all comers--”  Steve snorted at the image, and Billy elbowed him, huffing a laugh into his shoulder.

“You gonna do it, though?”  Steve rubbed Billy’s taut neck with his thumb, and Billy sighed.

“Fuck you.”

“If that’s somethin’ you wanna do,” Steve leaned to mouth at his ear.  “If I can trust you to stay clean...for me.” He grinned at Billy’s shudder.  

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” Billy growled against his chest.  “Just.  Sometimes, I’d--”

“I mean I don’t wanna know, just if you’re gonna keep climbin’ in my lap--”

“Are we going steady now,” Billy snorted against his jaw, and Steve’s hand stopped stroking his hair.  “Shit, no,” Billy punched the bed, shoving himself off it. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that, Harrington, fuck.”

“You...seriously wanna be my boyfriend?” Steve rolled to frown over the edge of the bed, and Billy scrambled back against the wall.  

“I know that’s not--I know my--I’m sorry--fuck, Steve,” he laughed, letting his head fall back against the wall with a smack.  Steve opened his mouth, still coming up with a reply, and Billy shut his eyes and knocked his head back into the wall again, and again, hard enough that the clock rattled.

“Jesus,” Steve scrambled off the bed, yanking him away from the wall, and running his hand up the back of Billy’s head.  It wasn’t sticky. “Jesus, Hargrove.”

“Sorry,” Billy snorted, but his skin was cold and damp.  “She shoulda just thrown me in a fucking dumpster. I didn’t mean it, jesus.  Please don’t.”

“I’m not mad, jesus, c’mon...come here, don’t--”  

“Don’t act like you don’t give a shit,” Billy grabbed the hand Steve was trying to inspect his head with.  His hands were freezing. “Tommy says Jonathan Byers fucked your girl and you showed up with that baseball bat, c’mon, Harrington, what’s it gonna be, is he the one all over your fucking nailbat, I’m fucking sorry, I won’t say that shit, I promise--” he laughed, wiping his nose, his eyeliner streaking.  “Promise from Billy fucking Hargrove, because that means fuck-all, shit--”

“Oh,” Steve blinked.  Yeah, actually, that probably looked pretty bad.  He rubbed his face.  Jesus, Steve.  “Uh.  Shit, no.”

Billy grabbed his other wrist so tightly the bones creaked.  “Lemme go. Just let me the fuck go. I’ll go home, I won’t tell anybody.  You know I won’t fucking tell anybody, nobody’d fucking believe me--”

“No, seriously, shut up--”

“I’m shutting up, Harrington--”

Steve tried to lift one of his hands, and Billy jerked his head away, breathing shakily.  

“Calm the fuck down.  Billy fucking Hargrove, don’t do any crazy Billy shit, okay,” he kept his voice level.  “It’s--I don’t care, shit, it’s fine.  Tell--tell anyone.  Anything. I’ll kiss you in class, I do not give a shit.”  He tried to suppress a snicker, and it turned into a giggle.  “I will fucking date you, if that’s what you want, stop giving yourself brain damage.”

“I don’t wanna date some psycho with a bat, I’m not asking you to prom,” Billy growled.

Steve couldn’t stop giggling, the image of Billy Hargrove as Prom King not helping.  “God help whoever lets you make a speech,” he left his hand on the ground, but ran his thumb over Billy’s naked toes.

“Don’t fuckin’ tickle me,” Billy let go, scooting back.  

“Y-you have a mouth that--that doesn’t unfold,” Steve gasped, miming the demodog’s unfurling with spread fingers, and he cackled at Billy’s blank face.  “It’s g-good enough for me.”

“...you’re unhinged,” Billy stared.  “The fuck is that, an alligator?”

“Fuck yeah,” Steve let himself fall to the side, his side starting to cramp with laughter.  “Bring it. They can call me the Gatorfucker.”

“You’re a--you--basket case,” Billy sat wide-eyed, elbow at a weird angle as he tried to let Steve lie on the floor giggling without breaking his wrist.

“I am,” Steve nodded, wiping his eyes against his upper arm.  “Oh my god, I am. I see monsters,” he tried to hold a straight face, but blew out his cheeks in a cackle at Billy’s glower.  

“Are you on drugs,” Billy let go of his wrists to keep from being yanked forward as Steve rolled onto his back, kicking his feet.  

“Maaaaaaybe I should be,” Steve grinned at the ceiling, wiping his eyes.  

“Telling me to see a fucking doctor.”  Billy looked hilarious, Steve thought, naked and spooked against the plaid wallpaper, and Steve started giggling again, clutching his stomach.

“Still--” he swallowed, trying to catch his breath, “--still wanna date?  We could keep watch on the roof. Then a nice patrol through the snow at two o’clock in the morning.  I’ll keep you safe. You can kiss off the monster blood.” His giggles ceased at the memory of Jonathan and Nancy clinging to each other.  

“You thought I was a monster earlier,” Billy got up and started gathering his clothes.  “‘F’I hadn’t yelled so loud, maybe you’d be a murderer. Nice, Harrington, really excellent.”

“Byers is fine,” Steve rolled his eyes.  “You really think he’d be walking around if I hit him with that thing?  That bat didn’t get anywhere close to you, you fucking moron.”

“Then what the hell were you dragging me around for?”  

“Oh come on,” Steve flailed a fist toward Billy’s foot, missing by several inches.  “I thought we were being attacked, it was a stupid dream, I was thinking ‘save the civilian!’, I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“...you dreamed you were saving me,” Billy stopped to frown down.  “...what do you mean civilian.”

“...nothing,” Steve sat up, stretching, and grinned as Billy’s eyes strayed to his shoulders, then down his chest.  “Come on, stick around. Boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” Billy snorted, walking a wary circle around him, but dropping to sit on the bed.  

“You really are Danny Zuko, lusting after Stevey Dee--”

“What the shit--”

“I was paying so much attention to Travolta’s ass in that, how did I not even notice--”

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Hargrove--”

“Be nice to your sweetie-pie.  How we gonna work this,” Steve rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up with his elbows on the floor.  “We could go to the movies? I guess..? It’s dark.”

“Shut up.  You’re not funny.”

“It’d be just like an affair, actually.  We’d have to tell people we were--”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“Fine, whatever.  You trying to leave town?”

“...what.”

“He searched your trunk,” Steve leaned to look at the clock.  “Wanna order food?”

“With what money,” Billy curled up on the bed.  “Hadta quit my job and move to the sticks.  And he’s told everybody I’m a fucking...serial killer by now.”

“...Heard there’s a mall opening up,” Steve hopped up to rifle his desk for a rubber-banded stack of bedraggled menus.  “I bet the new businesses’ll hire. You had a job?”

“Yeah, fuckhead, I had a job.  You think he bought me that car?”

“Huh.  You want pizza or Chinese?”

“...I don’t give a shit,” Billy swallowed, following him downstairs to lurk around the doorway as Steve ordered a whole lot of meat and noodles.

In the front room, naked with the phone in his lap, Steve grinned over again.

“What now,” Billy sighed.

“We’re covered in jizz.  Come on, shower.” He wandered over, sliding his arm around Billy’s waist.

“...not getting my mouth on your dick again, asshole,” Billy smirked, leaning in to a kiss.  

“S’fine, we’ve only got fifteen minutes.”  

After ten minutes of scrubbing whatever surface was closest, whether it was on his body or Billy’s--particularly if it made Billy huff a soft laugh--Steve piled out of the shower and grabbed a towel, leaving Billy cackling against the shower wall.  “The hell was that, your majesty, you really needed to scrub my elbow twice?”

Steve stuck his head back in for a kiss, flicking Billy’s shoulder to get his attention.  He blinked, but leaned forward, his ass still under the shower, and Steve kept his body as far from the water as he could drying off.  “...we look like those kissing salt-and-pepper shakers,” he whispered, leaning in again.

“Mmn,” Billy hummed back, grinning against his lips.  “You’re gonna have to get the food naked.”

“Worth it,” he pulled back, closing the shower door.

 When Billy wandered down, his hair was mostly dry, and Steve kept his hands in the blood-free zone hauling him close.  “...lemme wash your hair later.”

“It’s not that bad,” Billy allowed himself to be pressed against the counter, kissing Steve’s mouth over the next three sentences he tried to start.

“Oi,” Steve bit his lips together, lifting his head to escape, and ran his hands up and down Billy’s arms.  “It’s got a load of blood in it. I’ll be careful, just lemme wash it in the sink.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Billy hefted himself onto the counter, pulling Steve’s head in with both hands to hold him in a convenient kissing position.  

Steve lost himself in clean soft Billy Hargrove smells until the doorbell rang.  “Mm--Billy--” he pulled back, then leaned back in, stopping to really appreciate the firm thighs on either side of his waist, the muscles under his hands on Billy’s abs, the heat of his mouth, and the intent dark eyes watching him for sudden motions.  “I’m hungry. For noodles,” he specified, and Billy snorted. He lingered through another two rings before running off, leaving Billy to bury his face in his hands. When he returned, he handed over the cartons, watching as Billy scrounged for plates.

“...your cupboard handles are dusty.”

“There’s no hot chocolate in there,” Steve watched, then shrugged, meandering around opening drawers before holding up folding napkins victoriously and spreading them on the table as placemats.  

“How do you...do you even know how to wash dishes?”

“I know how soap works,” Steve rolled his eyes, leaning to lay a kiss on him as he slid by with the silverware.

“...what that look for,” Billy finally asked, portioning out the Mongolian Beef, and cutting the odd eggroll in half.

“Why are we even using dishes,” Steve stepped closer and stabbed his fork into the bigger half.  “It comes in dishes.”

“...I just imagined you setting up a romantic dinner.  Would you cut the pizza box in half? Who needs candles, just set the lid on fire.”

Steve gasped.  “I’d do my boy better than thUF--” he choked as Billy elbowed him in the stomach.  

“I will fucking murder you,” Billy whispered in his ear, but Steve leaned into him, laughing.  

“Chill out, c’mon, dinner and a movie.”

“...better not be singing mice,” Billy allowed himself to be drawn out into the front room to the coffee table.

“Laserdiscs are over there, pick something out, if you’re sick of Fievel.”

“What’s Ghostbu--”

“Holy fucking christ no,” Steve waved it away.

“Wh--”

“No no no,” Steve leaned over and pushed it back into the crate.  Billy very slowly slid it back out, biting back a grin, and Steve leaned to thunk their shoulders.  “Noooooo,” he whispered. “You don’t know how many times Dustin’s watched it. He recites along with it, it’s so fucking annoying, you have no idea--” he leaned in for a stealth kiss attack, sliding the case out and quickly tossing it under the couch while Billy raised an eyebrow, but hummed against his mouth.  “If you want to win him over, ask him about it, but do not make me sit through that fucker again.”

“Why would I wanna win him over,” Billy rolled his eyes, pulling out The Howling.

“I dun~no,” Steve sing-songed,  shifting to block Billy’s swift elbow.

Halfway through The Howling, Billy leaned in to nock his head under Steve’s chin.  “Are you afraid of...werewolves,” he whispered, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“That’s definitely it, you’re on to me.  Hey,” he leaned to kiss Billy’s head, getting another weirded-out glance for his trouble.  “Come on, I can wash your hair.”

“Do I stink,” Billy tried to sniff at a hank of it, wincing as he tugged.  

“It’s all clotted, come on.”

“...can wash my own fucking hair,” Billy allowed himself to be drug by the hand into the kitchen.  

“Just where you got gashed.  There’s blood in your hair, I can see what I’m doing.”  Leaving his captive feral by the kitchen sink, Steve ran up and found the shampoo, returning to find Billy shirtless, and trying to comb his fingers through the matted edges of his hair.

“How’d they let you in IHOP, you look like a corpse from a horror movie,” Steve turned on the hot water, folding his arms.  “It takes a minute to get hot.”

“I tied it up, it kinda--” Billy fluffed the top, hiding the gash, and tucked the bloodied hanks underneath.  “El--Eleven?” he frowned over, mouth quirked.

“Or Jane, but I mean, if she told you something else...”

Billy rolled his eyes.  “She was really into it, took half my bobby pins and elastics.”

“You...sat in IHOP giving hair tips,” Steve said slowly, feeling his cheeks heat.  

“No,” Billy snorted.  Steve raised his eyebrows, and Billy turned on the cold water.  

“Are you giving me a bath or what.”  

“What,” Steve made a face, but pushed his sleeves up.

“You picked me up from the pound, you gotta deal with my mange,” Billy grinned over, bracing his arms on the edge of the sink and leaning in.  

Steve tested the water, his cheeks flushing.  “Just wondered whether your hair tips were as good as my hair tips.”  He cleared his throat, grabbing the sprayer, and ran his fingers up the back of Billy’s neck and head to get his hair over the sink.  “...have to see who has better hair, Dustin or El.”

“The hell d’you know about curls,” Billy snorted, but his neck was turning red under Steve’s fingers.  

“This too hot?” Steve sprayed Billy’s wrist, and he jumped.  

“...s’fine.”

“Okay,” he started wetting it down, remembering the tangles Nancy fought with, and trying not to yank.  The water on Billy’s right side ran reddish-brown. “Tell me if it hurts--”

“Fuck you,” Billy’s voice was muffled, and his clench on the edge of the sink was white-knuckled, but he turned his head easily as Steve ran the sprayer behind his ear, and up the back of his neck, and pushed his head down into the sink so the water didn’t run down his back.  

“You’re doin’ good,” Steve said, for no real reason other than the tension shaking Billy’s shoulders, but he snorted, relaxing forward a bit as Steve let go of the sprayer and grabbed the shampoo.  “Okay,” he started gathering up the long curls, working them into suds, and scratching his nails and thumbs in circles around Billy’s scalp, and Billy made a noise that started as a grunt but kinda turned into a whine.  Steve narrowed his eyes at the scabbed area he was carefully avoiding. “That hurt?”

“...n-no,” Billy’s voice sounded hoarse, so Steve slowed up a bit, trying to be more careful about tugging the hair on the right side of his head.  

“...almost done,” he reached under to turn Billy’s head and work the shampoo along his hairline.  His hand on Billy’s neck informed him Billy’s heart was pounding, and he kept swallowing. “...seriously,” Steve turned him the other way, “Are you okay?  You feel like you’re having a heart attack.”

“Shut up,” Billy mumbled, hipchecking him into the sink.  

“You want conditioner?” Steve offered, grabbing the sprayer.  “Keep your eyes shut.”

“Yes I fucking want conditioner,” Billy growled, and Steve grinned, ducking his head to see--sure enough, Billy’s face was as red as his neck and shoulders.  

“I’ll just take my time then,” Steve rinsed carefully, his left hand on the back of Billy’s neck to keep the water back.  Billy shivered when he took it away, and Steve couldn’t resist smacking a kiss there, just to watch him jerk and glower over his shoulder.  

“You don’t have to do conditioner,” he muttered.  “I’m not gonna die of one day--”

“Yeah, you didn’t exactly say please,” Steve got a handful of conditioner, watching Billy laugh and wipe his face.

“Fuck you, Harrington.”  He leaned back in, and Steve held his hands down within view, sidling up against him but not actually touching his hair.  Billy snorted, turning his face away. “Please, your Majesty, honor me with--jesus,” his knees banged against the cupboard doors as Steve held Billy’s head with one hand, pressing up his skull with the other.  Billy grabbed for the sink, and Steve caught him around the waist.

“Christ,” Steve cackled into his shoulder, “Did your knees just give out?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy leaned his head in his arms, wiping his face.

“Lemme--lemme grab you a chair,” Steve was giggling, waggling a foot over to grab a kitchen chair and drag it closer.  “Kneel on this.”

“...should be healed up soon.”  The chair rocked as he clambered onto it.  He felt shaky under Steve’s fingers.

“Are you seriously okay?” he started another rinse, after his fingers sank into freezing curls.  “Are you cold?”

“I’m just--having--I don’t fucking know, just--fuck you,” Billy mumbled, leaning deeper into the sink.  

“...you still want the conditioner?  I could--”

“I want the fucking conditioner, are you fucking deaf,” he rubbed his face, wiping his nose, and Steve bit his lips, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”  He took a while, uncertain what would happen when he finished, and Billy had to lift his head.  Maybe he was topping up on tequila while I was paying for the pizza, he frowned around, shifting his feet as Billy leaned into his side, or maybe the stress of not punching anyone for hours broke him.  When he was done, he kept his hand on the back of Billy’s head, holding him while he grabbed for the towel, then dropped it over the back of his head, pulling a grumbling, muffled Billy into his arms for a brisk towelling.  After a few minutes, he rucked up the edge over Billy’s face, smirking into his narrowed eyes and set jaw.

“Who the hell was that for,” Billy slammed the heel of his hand into Steve’s chest, shoving him away and stomping to the fridge.  “What do you have to drink, Harrington.”

Steve, who hadn’t been inviting his alcohol suppliers over, and had lost the main privilege of living at the party house--free liquor--crossed his arms.  “The hell are you mad about.”

“The fuck was that,” Billy waved at his hair, slamming the fridge so hard the plates in the cupboard rattled.  “You--who the hell are you in love with, are you still fucking--Nancy Wheeler? Go--fucking go get her,” he pulled the towel over his head again, stalking into the front room.

“What are you even talking about,” Steve followed him out, scooping up a container of chowmein and digging in as he dropped on the couch.  

“Let’s go,” Billy punched his shoulder, frowning at the container.  He grinned over. “Let’s go fuck up her new man. Drag him out.”

Steve choked, smacking his chest, chewed, and swallowed before staring over.  “What the hell, dude.  What have you got against Jonathan Byers.”

Billy scooted in close, his grin tense.  “You keep lying to me. Don’t fucking pretend that whole--that hairwashing bullshit was for me.”

“...you had blood in your hair,” Steve leaned away.  “I just washed blood out of your hair--”

Billy laughed, grabbing the front of his sweatshirt.  “Ha. No way, Harrington. No fucking way. Come on. Don’t waste it on me.  Let’s go get her--”

Steve shoved his hands off, clambering over the arm of the couch and padding back into the kitchen to lean against the counter.  “Shut up. Leave ‘em alone.” Billy came up and slid his arms around him from behind, all warm breath and firm muscles, and Steve groaned into his noodles.  “Fuck off, asshole, we’re not--we’re not gonna lynch somebody ‘cause you think I need a girlfriend.”

“Not a girlfriend,” Billy kissed his neck.  “Her. You got some...Romeo and Juliet shit going on.  She’s not dead, just go get her.”

“She’s too smart for me,” Steve snorted.  “Wasn’t gonna last. She’s going off to college, I’m just...staying in Hawkins.  It’s over, man, what the hell--” he leaned his head back, trying to see Billy’s face, and ended up in an awkward, upside-down kiss that still made him light-headed.  “Jesus,” he panted. “Anyway. Didn’t take you for a matchmaker.”

“I’m not--”

“Why the hell you trying so hard to get me to bang somebody else when we’re making out,” Steve let himself be turned around, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck to kiss him.

“Just feel like a blow-up doll, letting you pull your pretend boyfriend bullshit,” Billy accepted the kiss despite his glower.  

“My what?” Steve laughed.  “Yeah, that’s what I’d do with a sex doll, wash its hair.”

“Or a dog,” he’d gone still, leaning away.

“What?!” Steve cocked his head.  

“Didja want me to wag my tail and beg for more, Harrington,” Billy whispered in his ear, then elbowed out of his arms.  “Want me to eat out of your hand? Eat shit. Fuck you.” He shoved off the counter and stalked away to the front room, leaving Steve squinting after him in annoyed confusion.  “I’m starting the movie back up,” he yelled from the front room, and Steve meandered out, plonking himself on the opposite end of the couch and crossing his arms.

After a few minutes trying to forget about Billy and remember what was going on in the plot, Billy crawled over and flopped with his head in Steve’s lap, and Steve groaned.

“What about Carol.”

“What,” Steve sighed, running his fingers through damp curls.  

Billy leaned his head into it, closing his eyes.  “Carol. Fuck Carol. She’ll still invite me over.”

The bark of laughter surprised Steve as much as it did Billy, who jumped.  “Why would I fuck Carol.  Gross.  She and Tommy are soulmates.  One day he’ll propose and they’ll just repeat ‘Do you wanna get married,’ after each other like parrots, like, for infinity.”

Billy snorted, coughing.  “Their vows will be ‘I know you do but what do I.’

Steve cracked up, bending to kiss his face, and finally stopped because Billy wasn’t laughing.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, what is this shit you keep doing,” he stared up, eyebrows knitted.  “You just fucking. Kissed my forehead.”

“Is it out of bounds,” Steve grinned down, and Billy rolled to face the TV instead.

“...we’re missing the movie.”

“If you want me to stop touching you, maybe get out of my lap,” Steve slid his hand along Billy’s side, and watched him close his eyes, curling closer.

“...shut up.”

 When the credits rolled, Billy grabbed up the dishes, shoving Steve back into the couch when he tried to follow.  

Steve wandered in to find him washing the dishes, dug a towel out of the drawer, and was shoved into another chair.  

“The fuck, Hargrove.”

“Almost done.”

“Let me dry, and you’ll be done sooner.”

“No hurry.”

“It’s--” Steve frowned at the clock.  “It’s only nine-thirty, but I’ve already had a long fucking night,” he got up again to pull Billy’s hips against his.  “I wanna sleep.  If you aren’t gonna let me, go home.  If you’re staying, get the fuck in my bed.”

Billy relaxed against him.  “...I can sit and stay, your majesty.”

“Okay, Sparky,” Steve rolled his eyes.  “...hey.”

“Mm?” Billy dried the last fork, leaning back against him.

“You can just stay here.  Just come over, it’s fine.”

“What.”

“If I’m not here, Ms. Williams said you can go there.”  Steve drug him towards the stairs, and Billy’s feet scuffled at the floor.

“What the hell--fuck both of you.  Fuck you, you--”

“Is that a ‘thank you’, I hear?  Thank you, Steve! Thank you! Thank you to Ms Williams, and her dogs!”

“Fuck do you mean stay here,” Billy yanked free.  “Shut the fuck up. I can’t stay here.  She’s not gonna--”

“If you want to,” Steve pulled him back.  “We’re not--”

Billy shoved him against the wall.  “You trying to get me sucking your cock again?  Just fucking tell me.” The shove had knocked the air out of Steve’s lungs, and he took a deep breath, jerking his head back as Billy growled in his ear.  “You want me again?”

“I wanna sleep,” Steve pushed him off, but grabbed his hand to haul him upstairs.

Billy yanked away to walk around the other side of the bed as soon as they were in Steve’s room, dropping back to sit against the headboard.

“...aren’t you gonna sleep?” Steve paused, half out of his sweatshirt.  

“Just got up from a nap,” Billy stared outside.  “I actually sleep at home.”

“What’s out there?” Steve crawled over the bed, squinting out the window.  

“Nothing!  Jesus! I was looking for cops, you fucking...nutcase,” Billy groaned as Steve slid up next to him, aiming at his mouth, but kissing his cheek and ear as he ducked away.

“Mmm,” he licked his lips.  “Did you find the spare toothbrushes?”

“I carry one,” Billy rolled his eyes, and Steve yanked him back in by the shoulder for another kiss, grinning as he felt the skin against his lips heating up.

“Fuck are you doing,” Billy blocked him with both hands, but didn’t push him away, and Steve leaned his face against them.  “You’re such a nerd,” Billy let himself drop sideways, smiling.  “The hell did you think I’d see?”

“Stay-Puff Man,” Steve pulled his sweatshirt the rest of the way off and padded off to the bathroom.  “You eat too many marshmallows, if he’s on your mind,” Billy yelled after him, and Steve leaned back around the door, laughing.  “No, it’s--never mind. We can watch it.”

When he returned, Billy had deigned to take his boots off and stick his legs under the covers.  Steve flicked the light off and slid in, sighing at the smooth, cool feel of the sheets and the weight of the blankets.  “...where are you?”

“I’m over here,” Billy snorted.  “How close d’you--Harrington,” he grabbed Steve’s hands, and Steve thought to his satisfaction he’d at least go to his grave having made Billy Hargrove sound like an offended librarian.  

“C’mon, I wanna--” he tugged at Billy’s arm.  “Hug you, I guess. Get in here.”

“Why,” Billy muttered, but slid in, and allowed Steve to test his theory that Billy’s chest was warm and smelled nice.  He laid his head on it, sliding a hand up Billy’s abs, and the body under him shivered.

“Sorry,” Steve grinned.

“...I can feel you grinning.”

“This is nice.”

“...shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

Steve opened his mouth to retort, considered what compliment would make Billy flush down to his navel but not elbow him in the face with the rush of emotion--and then he was jerking awake, wiping his mouth, as Billy’s shoulder collided with his jaw.  The dim reflected light of the streetlamp showed him Billy’s head jerking. He was mumbling something under his breath. Steve leaned his head out of the danger zone, lifting his hand and patting Billy’s abs, and Billy shuddered, shaking his head slowly back and forth, and curled onto his side with a groan.

“Hargrove,” Steve tried, keeping his voice even.  “Billy Hargrove.”

Billy’s ribcage jerked again, and his eyes opened.  He stared at the wall as the saltwater that had collected in his eyes spilled to the pillow, then shut his eyes again.  “...d’jou drool on me,” he asked thickly.

“...think so,” Steve leaned on his elbow, heart racing.  “...was that a nightmare?”

“Nah,” Billy cleared his throat, curling tighter.  “Just meditating on a nice fishing trip.”

“Was it, uh, was it your dad--”

“No, actually, I was in a trunk, asswipe,” Billy flung an arm out to smack him.

“...shit.”

“You fucking--kidnapped me, the fuck are you--snuggling--get off--”

“Sorry,” Steve scooted away to sit at the end of the bed, and listen to Billy’s shaky breathing.

“Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Go ahead say whatever the hell you’re gonna--”

“I was thinking ‘Your turn!’” Steve admitted, and Billy choked on a laugh.  “...shit, that means it’s my turn again.”

“...that how it works?”

“Apparently.”

“You gonna drag me outta bed again?” Billy’s foot, a fuzzy lump under layers of blankets, nudged Steve’s knee.  He squeezed it.

“...I don’t always run for it.”  It was hard to tell under the blankets, but he ran his thumb over what was probably the arch of Billy’s foot.  “I fell asleep in the kitchen Monday afternoon and dreamed Mike showed up to yell at me because he’d found his parents half eaten, and handed me a foot--”

“What the f--?!  Why the--” Billy paused to listen, but his silent laughing was shaking the bed.

“--and of course Dustin was there, and Mrs. Byers, and we had to go find El and Will--she’s--”

“Will’s the kid that...had the funeral?”

“Yeah, so she’s screaming and crying that we have to get to him, we have to save Will, I can’t let him die, but the only car we had to drive was a stick shift, and so I’m trying to go for help and the engine keeps dying and she’s yelling how it’s my fault if he dies, and Dustin’s yelling driving advice in my ear--”

Billy cracked up.  “Fuck, you are broken, what the fuck is wrong with you--”

Steve snorfled, trying to suppress laughter, and rubbed tears from his eyes.  “I know.”

After a silence that felt like at least a quarter-hour, Billy took a deep breath, and kicked the blanket into Steve’s hip.  “I can teach you to drive stick.”

“Thought you were already working on that,” Steve snickered, and Billy kicked him again, laughing.  

“Shut up.  You want me to?”

“...yeah, sure,” Steve ducked his head, grinning.

Reblog and put a smile on my face! 「Previous chapters on AO3 」

「Be a good egg like Steve and drop me a ko-fi」

[foolscapper]

Exploding Head Syndrome: A MCU Post-IW Fanfic | Ch. 3

(READ IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.)

"I can promise you, it's no mistake — the Guardians and those who were behind on Titan, they will be arriving on Earth sooner than later," T'Challa later tells him, over the translucent feed glowing from the center island of his work space, and Tony's eyes flutter closed with overwhelming relief. Watching transfixed as the people he cared about reappeared in his life, sprouting like seeds after one hell of a metaphorical volcanic eruption? It was almost too much. He'd lived with the deaths of billions for far too long, and though the world is alight with celebration and confusion and everything in-between, the feeling hadn't settled between Tony's ribs until Sam Wilson walked his way into the room with a lopsided grin, or when doors parted and Wanda's furrowed brow and uncertain expression graced the halls of the headquarters. People were alive again, and all it cost Tony personally was a broken arm and leg and ribs and — okay, the healing process wasn't the best, but Wakanda sure did make it easier. Everyone had hoped the snap would be set straight the moment that purple bastard's blood bleached the ground, but not so — no, it took another month just to figure out how to reverse it, none of which would have been possible if not for Captain Marvel. She'd come and gone like an angel, and if Tony were a man toeing the line for an early grave, he'd offer a smooch of gratitude. Italian-style. He's got at least 10 or 20% in his bloodline somewhere. She'd taken the Power Stone and vanished into the stratosphere (too literally) with it. That leaves five stones that needed to be displaced securely. Thor would see to the Reality Stone. The Guardians wanted to return the Soul Stone. And of course Strange had a raging boner for the Time Stone. The Space Stone... The Mind Stone... who knows. Still working on it.

But Tony couldn't care less about those shiny bits of misery; he's given up enough of his time the last two fucking years (and then some) in a cold sweat about stones that he'd lob into the sun if he could. No, he wants to see Peter. That's the last piece, the thing that he tosses and turns over, the one good thing that came out of Germany that day — meeting this kid, but also damning him by proxy, and fuck if he didn't want to fix that. Once Peter is back home with his ridiculously attractive aunt, goofing off and building weird robots with his pal Fred, stammering about some girl that looked at him funny while he helps Tony in the lab... that's gonna be the real endgame. That's when it all actually ends and he can close his eyes and actually rest.

"I'm eager to finally meet this kid without a mask, after all proud parent talk," Steve says from the couch in the break room. He hadn't been able to stand for very long anymore after what Thanos had done to his knee a month back, but Tony's at least helped hook him up with a prototype brace he'd started way back when for Rhodey. It whirs a little when he straightens his leg out. Despite the new scars that grace them — one on the arm here, another on the forehead here, the imprint of a stab wound— Wait a goddamn minute. He glowers at Steve. "It's not 'proud parent talk'." "If it quacks like a duck," Sam says as he walks by with a cereal bowl, like he's drifting along on conveyor belt that dispenses wise cracks. "Begone, Wilson, you wretched creature," is the apt reply, as Tony wags a hand for him to leave (he already has). "And he's a — good kid, so yeah, maybe I talked up a big game for him so he starts off on the right foot. Someone has to prep you so his awkward puberty-stricken self doesn't ruin his credibility right off the bat." Steve just shakes his head, smiling at the ground. He looks so much younger than he had even just a couple months ago. But maybe that's all of them. There's a light in their eyes, a feeling of victory they hadn't felt in over two years. We've won. Vision would think so, too. Him and his stupid sweater vests, and his terrible cooking, and his scarring everyone else by ignoring doors. ... He'd be proud of them. Tony's sure of it.

  "Aaww, look at that... Proof that Tony Stark has a heart." And then, gone. Every night.

His heart is hammering in his chest when the Benatar touches down on the central landing pad, which is stupid and unprofessional; Tony Stark does not anxiously flutter around like a student worried about their test grades; he scores 101% every time. But now he's here, and his palms are sweating, and Pepper is telling him it's gonna be okay — "Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good." — and to relax before he sprouts a couple more gray hairs to add to the others — "I don't wanna go, please, sir, I don't wanna go...!" — and Rhodey grips his shoulder, tight enough to hurt. He blinks. "Hey," is all his friend says, but it grounds him. Tony nods. I'm alright. There are few people in the facility that are aware of the post, or traumatic, or stress. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy are his key confidants when he detaches from all common sense and loses himself to places like Kunar, or the emptiness of space, or — or places like Titan. It's gotten better, but only before it's gotten much worse, and the months that followed the dusting of half the universe he was hardly capable of handling standing on his own two feet, let alone moving to solve anything. "Hey, it's all good," he'd tell them at 3 a.m. in the lab, "I took a Xanax." Beside him, Rocket and Groot stand transfixed, and Tony can only imagine how much more wrecked Rocket is about all of this — it's been two years since he's seen his family alive. He honestly wasn't sure if they were going to be able to pull him away from the tree-kid when he'd been flown back in, and though the raccoon will never hearken back to that moment he'd cried into Groot's chest, it'll at least be a reminder that good things come to those who wait. And drink excessively.

The doors of the Benatar open to a field littered with curious Avengers and workers, and the first to step out is Drax and Mantis — well, more like rush out, and Groot and Rocket are running to meet them with outstretched arms, as you'd expect from sweet reunions; and yeah, Tony's glad, Tony's grinning. More good news playing out right in front of him, fruits of their overworked, overwrought labor. From where they all stand, they can crane their heads to the side and listen for Rocket's wobbly, teary berating: "You freaking morons! How dare you guys just go off and get yourselves killed — this is what happens when you're not being babysat by yours truly, you bastards, you — " Quill emerges from the shadows of the craft's interior soon after, a sad smile gracing his lips as he drops a hand on Groot's jagged scalp. Not quite a whole family. Tony can see that in the weary lines of Quill's face. And he hasn't forgotten the desperation he himself felt, knowing that the Star-Lord had been one step away from exploding on Thanos back on Titan... knowing there was no way to turn the tide in their favor, once the floodgates were smashed into chalky bits. Quill turns, locks eyes with Tony, and... something shifts in his expression. Something drops. Worse — Something is wrong. The thought occurs to Tony, the moment he realizes that nobody should've been leaping out of that ship before Peter Parker. That kid had a hell of a time on Titan, yes — that'd be an understatement. But he's Pete, the teenager who can't seem to sit still for five minutes, the plucky one with a five-mile long list of shower thoughts and embarrassing factoids, the pain in the ass who doesn't do a single thing he's told, because he's going through a super-teen rebellion phase. Tony's worked too closely with him the years before Thanos; he knows him too well; he'd be out here already like a lightning bolt, smiling like nothing's wrong and cashing in on a real hug for once (and Tony'd let him and pretend it was grudgingly, but everyone knows better)— (— nobody is listening, they just talk about their day and nobody is looking at this kid in this photograph: the kid with the curvy brown hair and pinching, smiling eyes and thin lips, he's only a kid, he's missing, does nobody see that? But Pepper just puts her hands up at the sides of her head and shrugs like he's out of his mind, and she's talking about being behind schedule —) He dreamed this, like he dreams everything. Quill steps toward Tony and away from the Guardians as they stand on the ship's ramp, one hand out, placating, brow furrowed. "Stark, man, I'm sorry; we didn't want to tell you over some shitty line, but there's something..." His voice tapers off as Strange and Peter walk out from the darkness. Peter isn't smiling, he isn't frowning, he isn't anything. He's just looking at Tony — through Tony — and the scarred hand on his shoulder is doing all the leading. What do they mean? Something's what? He's whole and healthy, isn't he? There's not a scratch on Parker's head, not like the scars the Avengers have collected the last couple of months. He's fine, he's safe— (No. No no no, look at him, why - why are you not looking at him?" Tony asks, curled fingers pecking over the shirt on his chest, right where his blue heart used to be, and he's so fucking angry that Happy said it Pepper said it Steve said it Everyone says it, the same thing, different voices: "It's a black box, Tony. It's just a black box. The picture's not developed. Something got screwed up, sorry.) "Tony, something went wrong," Strange starts, in rhythm with the pounding of Tony's heart. "He didn't come back with the rest of us." If he doesn't breathe right now, he won't stay upright for long. Peter's eyes are looking right through him, and his arms dangle at his sides, which doesn't make any sense, because that kid could never keep his arms still for five goddamn seconds— ("Could you not move while I adjust these? Lord, do you want to plummet to your doom because they jam?" "Oh, oop, sorry, Mr. Stark!") Morgan whines uncomfortably in Pepper's arms, tired of standing in the heat. "Mama, m'tired." Steve hobbles forward, and he's saying something, but Tony can't hear it anymore. Peter was the endgame. Tony's having a hard time remembering how he crossed the distance from the grassy knoll to Peter, and he can't really recollect how his hands ended up on either side of the kid's face, looking for any sign that things are actually messed up — but before he knows it, he's gripping the kid's shoulders just as tightly as Rhodey had gripped his own, his hands trembling. "Pete, kid, c'mon. Say something. If you don't say something I'm gonna seriously lose it here. Don't fucking do this." A pair of headphones rattle around Pete's neck. Tony's shaking him. Maybe he'll come to, like a half-drowned puppy you pull out of the gutter. Then just as suddenly he's not shaking him, because Quill is prying his hands back from the kid protectively, and Strange's palm is pushing Tony's shoulder to put some distance between him and the boy. Everyone knows Peter is a special case, for him. A special mission set aside to complete. He promised May. He promised Peter. He held him while he disintegrated. He washed him down a sink and apologized in multitudes. Someone seethes, "What do you mean, he didn't come back? What do you mean?" and he recognizes it belatedly as his own. "Tony, look at me," Strange orders, and usually Tony would tell someone like the good doctor to shove his orders up his own ass, but for once he listens. Quill and Strange stand like guards posted at a gate, safeguarding the unresponsive boy, and Tony's senses come back to him like eardrums popping on an airplane. Strange continues in that agonizingly calm way, "You're having a panic attack. You're no good to the kid like this." He takes a step back, eyes burning, tongue heavy in his mouth. Usually, he has a funny quip he can sling to defend himself, or some jagged-edged retort that's bitter enough to cut through just about anything. But he has nothing to offer, right now. He just stares blankly, remembers how to breathe again, and turns his head away. Focus. Focus. Okayokayokay, you're a billionaire genius with a complex full of smart-asses, you've got magical glowy rocks, you've got Wakanda on speed dial. "What happened?" Answers, he needs answers. "He is not in there," Mantis meekly replies. It's not the answer he's looking for. "Judging from what we've gathered," Strange clarifies, "His body has likely somehow resurrected — without his mind." "What does that mean, exactly?" Happy asks, voice edged with frustration, with disbelief (when did he get there? when did he end up standing beside Pete with his hand hovering so helplessly?). "How does that happen?" ("I don't feel so good.") "Get him in the medical wing. Now," Tony orders, cutting through the quiet. He is more than ready to bury the coiling, ugly panic brewing under the surface now, turning to Bruce — who stands sheepishly to the side, concern and sympathy casting shadows on his face. He's told him plenty of stories, told him how excited Peter was to ever get the chance to meet him. The kid loved Bruce Banner more than he loved the Hulk; Bruce was beyond happy to hear it, smiling down at his work. Thor's not here — he's not here yet. Pete wanted to meet Thor, too. He wanted to meet everyone, without the mask. And that 'everyone' is here now, looking at him with little else they can do (this isn't a battle, they can't fight this), and Tony grits his teeth and promises Peter one more thing: he's not gonna lose it right now, when he needs him the most. He turns and plants a firm hand on Pete's shoulder again, this time looking into his eyes and steeling himself for the way nobody looks back. He tells Bruce, "I'm gonna need your help again. If this little asshole thinks he can Casper out on us, he's got another fucking thing coming." He'll have to call a rain check on that whole concept of resting. Good to know his nightmares are as reliable as ever, though.

[lots-of-character-imagines]

Moments in Chaos (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Request- “Can you do a Steve x Reader where he thinks she’s dead? But turns out she’s not and just pure fluff?”

Words- 928

Warnings- Swearing, injuries, blood

A/N- Enjoy!

The most horrible feeling imaginable settles into Steve Harrington gut. It’s like lead and ice and it makes him want to drop to his knees and just give up. He can’t. He has Dustin and the rest of the kids that need him. So he stays on his feet like a damn soldier, because there's no way he can quit now and forces himself to keep moving.

Shock, that has to be it. Watching your body fall to the ground with a demo-dog on you. Shock. He’s on his feet, and Dustin is in the background with the others, and they’re all screaming and yelling. He’s frozen for a second because what the hell should he do? He can go back onto the old bus, or to you. Part of him says to turn now, go now because having the two eldest members of the group die, isn’t going to work well for everyone else and he has to keep them safe. He was supposed to keep you safe too.

There's a flash of light glinting off of something and then the demo-dog squeals and throws itself off of you. It’s a knife, and it’s in your hand. Steve wants to cry because you’re not dead, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be if he doesn’t try. He runs toward you, just as you twist to try to get up. He drags you to your feet, bat in one hand and the comes the frantic dash back to the bus. You’re limping along beside him, and there's blood, and Steve’s not sure where that's coming from just yet. He just has to make it back, because he can work with this. Everyone just has to stay alive.

He slams the metal over the door, bracing his feet against it, trying to get the kids to just move back. You’re shoving them back away from the door, and if you’re standing on your own, that has to mean something right? After the panicked and blurred minutes of trying to keep the monsters from eating anyone, because there was no way that's happening on his watch, it goes silent.

Things stay quiet for about two seconds. Then your head thumps against the wall behind you and you groan as you try to move your arm. Steve finds himself at your side in an instant, “Y/N, fuck,” the blood seeps out of your torn jacket sleeve.

“I’m okay, it just got my arm,” you say forcing yourself to look down at the bloodied sleeve.

“No, you’re not fucking okay! Your arm, shit, what the hell do I do?” he’s panicking because you shouldn’t be this calm about just getting your arm out of the mouth of a demo-dog.

“Listen to me, I need you to help me take off this jacket. Max, guys do you have anything like bandages or gauze?”

In hindsight, Steve realizes, it wasn’t as bad as he had thought. You kept your head as you helped him make a make-shift bandage for your arm. You had fallen under the weight of the demo-dog and the wind had been knocked from your lungs, but the worst of it was some small but nasty puncture wounds. When you cleaned it off the best you could, it didn't look that bad at all.

You take a deep breath. Your arm is throbbing, but honestly, the adrenaline pumping through your blood dispels most of the pain for the moment. Steve looks on the verge of a panic attack, and you need to fix that too. Max, Lucas, and Dustin had shuffled off into the rear of the bus talking amongst themselves.

“Steve, baby,” you say softly raising your good hand to his face. You know it must look bad, but it’ll be okay. Nothing's broken beyond repair currently. He blinks and his shaking hands go to your waist, too afraid to go anywhere near your arm in fear of hurting it.

“Y-Yeah?” you see he’s trying so hard to keep it together, and you’re not sure what you need to do.

“I’m okay. It really doesn’t even hurt that bad. It barely got me, it just nicked my arm. I know it looks all bloody, but I swear to god, it’ll be okay,” he nods and you smile. Gently you kiss him, giving him a moment to respond. It’s slow and careful and you let your fingers card through his hair. For a moment you’re not in the middle of saving the world. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his and let your noses brushed together. The shared air that you breathe in is more comforting than it should be considering you're in the middle of nowhere with monsters lurking in the shadows.

“Uh, guys? You done over there?” Dustin breaks the silence and you hope no one can see you blush. You hide your face in Steve’s neck and smile.

“Come on, asshole!” Steve yells back, and you giggle into his neck.

“Sorry man, just checking,” Dustin says rolling his eyes and turning around.

“You sure you’re okay?” Steve asks again looking you over.

“I will be, but I think we need to go,” you answer pressing a kiss to his forehead before drawing back. Time to go save the world.

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying The Planet To Save It       Chapter 31:  Not The T-Shirt!

                     Chapters 1- 30   Read It On AO3 

Welp, Tony had finally found something he hated more than staff meetings.  

It really fucking hurt getting shot in the chest. All three times.  So when he regained consciousness on the concrete floor of a cold, damp room, looking into the face of the same inbred asshole who’d shot him, he was not as polite as he might otherwise have been.  He also couldn’t breathe, which meant he didn’t let the guy know what he thought of him with quite his usual enthusiasm.  But he was pretty sure the guy got the idea.

“Hey!”  The guy yelled into Tony’s face, shoving against Tony’s arm, as if to get his attention. Like his attention wasn’t pretty much riveted on the guy’s ugly, mustached mug.  “You’re awake!”

Tony could do nothing but roll his eyes, which he did spectacularly, even in his current condition.  The guy had an accent.  Tony didn’t know accents well enough to know where he was from, but his first language was clearly Spanish.  

“Who the hell are you?”  Mustache asked loudly, as though having three bullet holes somehow affected Tony’s hearing.  Also as though he wasn’t shouting from about six inches away.

Tony tried to gather enough air to ask for help, but found that it was simply beyond him at the moment.  He probably shouldn’t have used up so much energy on the eyeroll, but it had been a priority at the time, and he didn’t regret it.  

Mustache turned his head to shout at someone else for a change, maybe toward a door or something, “Hey, he’s awake!”

Tony closed his eyes, thinking that he really, really did not want to die here in the presence of this slack-jawed ignoramus. And he kind of felt like shit, which the guy’s yelling was not helping.  

“Need… doctor…”

Another man rushed into the room, looking down at Tony, who blinked his eyes briefly and then mustered all his resources to croak again, “Need… help…”

Tony heard the new guy smack Mustache before launching into a stream of Spanish that sounded pissed off.  Or maybe that was just Tony being optimistic.  Once Mustache moved aside and the new guy knelt next to Tony, it became apparent that the new guy was at least a little bit human.  He dropped a metal first aid kit onto the floor next to him (Tony wasn’t a doctor, but he suspected that unless a complete operating suite and a surgical team was going to pop out of that box like those spring-loaded snakes in a can, that wasn’t going to do it) and tore Tony’s flannel shirt open.

Both men gasped, and Tony knew they were seeing the Arc Reactor shining through the T-shirt Tony was wearing.  The new guy grabbed a scissors from the first aid kit and swiftly cut through the T-shirt before Tony could stop him.  Which really pissed him off, because it was his Blue Öyster Cult one.  He loved that T-shirt, dammit!

The guy seemed to think the fact that Tony had an Arc Reactor in his chest was Mustache’s fault, because he turned to Mustache and began to berate him in high-volume, staccato Spanish. Tony recognized some of the words as being ones not learned in Sunday school.  Mustache started to defend himself, but was cut off abruptly by the new guy.  Tony used a bit of his sparse energy to open his eyes.  The guy wasn’t as ugly as Mustache, but his face was cratered with some serious pockmarks.  Tony imagined that puberty had been hell on the poor dude, who looked to be in his thirties now.  

“Ambulance,” Tony managed to whisper.  

Pockface ignored him, or maybe didn’t hear him, given Tony’s inability to generate any volume.  He used the tails of Tony’s flannel shirt to wipe the blood from Tony’s wounds, then tore open some gauze, which he pressed to the wounds.  Tony would have screamed, if he could have. Instead, he passed out.

**************

Sam was having a very hard time concentrating on the mission.  He and Anita were outside of Córdoba, in central Argentina, in the process of breaking into a food processing plant.  He supposed he was interested and all, but this was definitely not his usual level of focus. Because according to the comms traffic, Tony Stark was in deep shit all alone in New Mexico.  

Sam and Anita both itched to simply blast their way into the factory building and to the machine.   Instead, on Steve’s orders, they were trying to be stealthy so that they wouldn’t have to engage with the security guards that were known to be on site.  Sam actually kind of wanted to engage with them.  He needed to hit something.  Besides, this damn massive joint didn’t even make human food.  It made pet food.  Sam was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what went on in this building.  

Sam covered Anita as she utilized the small device with its stylish Stark Industries logo to disable the electronic door lock.  They were going to have to take their chances with an alarm system.  As far as Friday could tell, there wasn’t one.  Not even video surveillance, just security guards.  Sam knew it wasn’t actually possible for an A.I. to get distracted, but then, he often forgot that Friday wasn’t actually human. And she was definitely protective of Tony.  He just hoped she wasn’t too focused on him when she was gathering intel about this place.

There was no way to know where in this giant factory the machine might be.  There was nothing for it but to search, so Sam and Anita had entered through the most inconspicuous door they could find, which happened to open into a massive storage area.  To Sam’s relief, it didn’t smell.  Anita whispered to him that the labels on the boxes told her they were full of dry ingredients like rice and fillers.  Weapons drawn, the two began a systematic exploration of the plant.

  ********

Bucky wasn’t happy.  He’d never been to Papua New Guinea, and he wanted to see a place that still remained so exotic and mysterious, even in this insanely intrusive age.  Instead, he and Joss were pushing their quinjet to its limits trying to get back to the U.S. as quickly as possible.  It wasn’t likely that they would get to New Mexico in time to help rescue Tony, given that Natasha and Clint were just hours away now, and Steve was already on a quinjet of his own screaming over the Atlantic toward home. But as soon as Coulson had advised them that Tony was in trouble, Bucky was scorching the atmosphere to get to him.

He was worried.  Coulson had relayed Friday’s report that Tony had been shot. According to Coulson, she was as frantic as an A.I. could get about his vital signs.  Bucky had never hoped to miss out on the action before, but he did now. He prayed that, when they finally reached home, Tony was already safe and sound back in the Tower.

“Keep me posted,” Bucky asked Coulson over his headset.

“Will do.”

A cloud passed over Bucky’s face.  “What are we gonna do about that machine in New Guinea?”

“I’m sending a team in.  We know that machine is abandoned.  We’ll take care of it.”

Bucky signed off and turned to Joss.  “So much for our enjoyable flight home.  Sorry about that.”

“You can make it up to me,” she smiled. “Besides, I haven’t flown anything supersonic since I left the Air Force.  I hate the reason we’re rushing back, but that part’s all right.”

Bucky smiled back.  Joss had a hell of a good attitude.  That was good.  If she was going to be his girl, the ability to just roll with it was a job requirement.

Huh.  His girl.  He liked the sound of that.

**************** 

 Steve was in no mood to deal with delays when they reached New York.  Director Coulson, expecting that would be the case, had arranged for a fully-fueled quinjet with all Steve’s gear to be waiting for them once they landed.  He and Sharon literally ran across the tarmac from one jet to the other and, the minute they were on board, the pilots of the second quinjet took off.  

Not being the one flying the jet gave Steve the chance to suit up and concentrate fully on the reports from Clint and Natasha. They were on the ground, but they’d come by regular jet, and Red Stone dam was remote.  It was going to take them some time to get there, even by chopper.

Meanwhile, Friday relayed Tony’s vital signs.  Steve wasn’t sure how to feel when she reported that he was currently unconscious.  Was that a good thing?  At least he wasn’t experiencing pain at the moment.  Or was it the harbinger of worse things to come?  Steve was practically crawling out of his skin with anxiety.  Although he’d always been awed by the speed quinjets could achieve, suddenly Mach 2 seemed unbearably slow to him.

 ****************

 Tony had no way of knowing how long he’d been out, but he was conscious for a long time before he could open his eyes.  He listened to Pockface and Mustache cussing eachother out in Spanish and wondered whether he should let them know he was awake.  He realized he didn’t have much of a choice.  It was really hard to breathe, and he felt dizzy even lying down on the hard floor of the dam control building.  

It seemed to take a ridiculous amount of effort to open his eyes.  Even when he did, he couldn’t keep them open.  He thought he must look like he was batting his eyes at Pockface, as many times as he tried to open them, only to have them close again.  

Once he could hold his eyes open, Tony looked around the room without turning his head or moving, both of which were beyond him at the moment.  He was pretty sure the black thing in front of him was the machine, although he’d never seen one from this angle.  Hey, good for him, he’d found it.  Too bad he couldn’t even lift the screwdriver to open the first panel, let alone perform the rest of the steps to destroy it.  He hurt.  He couldn’t breathe.  His weakness and dizziness told him he had probably lost a shitload of blood.  Now that he thought about it, he was also shivering.

Tony finally managed to turn his head to the side and saw a door.  He also saw long streaks of blood leading from that door across the floor from where Mustache had apparently dragged him in here.  He closed his eyes again.  If he wasn’t careful, Tony could actually let himself get a little scared here.

“Hey,” he croaked weakly.

Both men turned to him.  They’d been standing between him and the machine as they argued. When Pockface heard Tony’s voice, he hastened to Tony’s side and knelt, waving a hand at the Arc Reactor.  “Who are you?  What the hell is that thing?”

“D-Dam inssssspec…”  Tony had to stop to breathe.  “ID.  Pocket.”

“We found that.  What are you doing here?  Why were we not notified?”

“Surprise insssss-“

“Since when does the State inspect this dam?  It’s federal property.”

Tony would have huffed in annoyance if he could have.  For fuck’s sake, dude, can you not see I am in no shape for a confab?  He closed his eyes and forced himself to whisper, “Help.”

“Not until you tell us what you’re doing here.”

“Bleeding…”

“Ha, ha, tough guy.  The State doesn’t come inspect in the middle of the night.  And you haven’t answered my question.  What the fuck is that glowy thing in your chest?”

“Boss, your blood pressure is low, but your heart rate and your blood pressure both just jumped.  What’s going on?”

Tony didn’t know why Friday asked such a dumb question.  She was well aware that morons had that effect on him.  The other reason he didn’t answer her question was in hopes that Pockface and Mustache would continue not to notice his comms.  

“Pa-  Pace…maker. Shot me…  Need help…  You help, I forget.  I die, s’murder…”

Pockface seemed to be considering Tony’s offer.  He said nothing as he checked the makeshift bandages he’d placed on Tony’s gunshot wounds.  The gauze was already saturated on the one in his right chest,  which is the one Tony thought had collapsed his lung. The other one on the right hurt the most, but if Tony remembered his anatomy, was too high to have hit anything major.   Still, it was bleeding almost as much as the one in his lung.  The one in his lower left chest didn’t seem to be bleeding much anymore; the spot on the gauze was growing fairly slowly.  He was pretty sure that one had broken a rib, though.

Pockface went into the first aid kit and took out the last of the gauze, squinting as he decided which of Tony’s bandages most needed reinforcement.  Tony felt a drop of sweat roll off his forehead, onto his temple and into his hair, which was odd, since he was also shivering.  Suddenly, through the haze of his mind, he realized that the wounds on his chest probably weren’t the big ones.  Those were entrance wounds.  Exit wounds were always bigger.  And those were on his back.  

He thought it was weird that he could see his vision tunneling, then narrow to a point, even though his eyes had fallen shut again. He wished Friday would shut up with the “Boss!  Boss!” in his ear so he could fall into the soft, welcoming blackness in peace.

 ****************

 Sam pulled back just in time to avoid being spotted by the security guard lazily wandering down the hallway outside of the factory lunchroom he and Anita had found themselves in.  Flattening themselves against the wall, they realized that there was nowhere for them to hide if the guard decided to come into the room. They stood, trying not to breathe, as they listened to his soft-soled shoes squeak intermittently on the tile floor.

To their relief, the guard passed by the double doors to the lunchroom and Sam was able to watch his retreating back through the glass panel in the door.  The guard sauntered for a ways down the hall, then turned into another hallway.  Sam gave him plenty of time to get further away before opening the door as slowly as he could.  He and Anita slipped out into the hallway, and Sam eased the door shut again.  They moved on.

They needed to catch a break here.  Friday had located blueprints, but there was nothing in them that indicated where the machine might be.  The blueprints helped in that Sam and Anita had a map of the factory’s layout, but that was about all they were good for.  Even the electrical diagrams didn’t show anything anomalous, which meant that the diagrams filed with the authorities in Córdoba were not the ones that had been used to actually build the pet food plant.    

At the end of the hallway was a double metal door. That seemed promising.  The problem was, it was locked, and the lock was a standard, heavy-duty key lock.  Anita had a lock picking gun in a pouch on her utility belt, but using that was going to make noise.  The better choice was for her to pick the lock using traditional lock picking tools, which would take longer, but might not attract attention.  

They almost made it.  

Anita had most of the tumblers pulled back and was just starting to relax when they heard footsteps.  They looked at each other for a second, Sam nodded once, and Anita went back to work.  Sam moved his gun hand so that it hung down low, concealing the Steyr behind his thigh. It didn’t occur to either of them that they’d just had an entire conversation in a split second, without words.  

The security guard began shouting at them in excited Spanish as soon as he saw them, but kept walking toward them.  Sam was relieved.  He’d been concerned that the guy might run, which would have meant Sam had to choose between staying with Anita or chasing the guard to prevent him calling for help.  

With the biggest smile he could fake, Sam stepped in front of Anita and put out his hand in a silly, but attention-getting, wave. He called out a greeting in cheerful English, hoping against hope the guy didn’t speak it, and was rewarded when the guard’s steps stuttered a bit and he stopped shouting.  The poor guy actually tipped his head a little, like a dog, as if that would help him understand Sam.  

“Dude, I’m so glad to see you.  Do you speak English?”

The Guard knew that phrase, anyway, and shrugged. “No,” he answered, then realized he should be more concerned about this guy wearing all black and holding a hand behind him.

It was too late.  Sam was now less than five feet from him and had pulled the Steyr around to aim at the security guard before he could do anything.

“Come with me,” Sam said in Spanish, and signaled for the guard to walk ahead of him.  As the guard passed him and Sam turned toward Anita, she finished picking the lock and the metal door popped open.  

She stood up, smiling.  To the security guard, she said cheerily, “Hi.  Nice to meet you.  We’re not going to hurt you.  We’re actually glad to see you, because we could use your help.  But first, let’s see what’s behind door number one.”

The room was massive.  Even with only every fourth light fixture illuminated, the stainless steel machinery and conveyor system gleamed in the all-white room.  

“Huh,” Anita said, glancing at Sam.  She turned back to the security guard.  “There’s a machine here.  Black, shaped like the pyramids at Chichen Itza.  Glows green.  You know it?”

“What are you talking about?  Chichen Itza?”  The guard looked more confused than anything, but became slightly more alarmed as Sam lifted the guard’s radio from his belt.  Fortunately, the guy wasn’t armed, which Sam hoped meant that none of the other guards were, either.  

“You got a passkey?”  Sam asked, and Anita translated for him.

With shaking hands, the guard pulled a key ring from his pocket and picked out the right key, then handed it to Anita.  

“Okay,” she said, smiling.  “You sure you don’t know of any big black machine that glows green? Because my boyfriend here is kind of in a hurry.  It’d sure help us out if you knew what we were talking about.”

“Lady, what the…  There’s nothing like that here.  They make cat food-“

“OK. Fine. Then tell me what rooms you’re not allowed to go into.”

“None!  We don’t go into the offices, but we check the doors, and we each have routes we walk…”

Sam moved until he was within the guard’s line of sight and began messing with his Steyr, aiming it at imaginary targets and jerking it up slightly as though firing it.  He almost made a “pew-pew-pew” sound, but realized in time that would be far more lame than scary.  

The guard’s eyes widened and he spoke quickly in his growing agitation.  “I don’t know!  There’s no… Wait.  There’s a door.  I always wondered where it went, but it has a keypad thingie.  I don’t know the combination.”

“Show us.”

Sam followed as Anita walked next to the security guard.  He was worried as hell about Tony, but it didn’t stop him from appreciating the way Anita’s hips swayed when she walked.  Or the way she already had the guard more afraid of her than he was of Sam, who was actually the one brandishing a gun.

 *************

Clint and Natasha had landed at a distance and come in to the dam complex on foot, working their way closer and closer until they were on their bellies in a depression in the rock about two hundred yards out from the control building.  They’d been observing the dam complex and strategizing with Steve when the day shift arrived.  Once that happened, things went to shit fast.

The first two day shift workers had apparently carpooled, and went in together.  About ten minutes later, another dusty pickup truck pulled into the complex and a third man entered the building, followed quickly by a fourth.  With the enhanced hearing his Stark hearing aids gave him, Clint noticed the shouting as soon as it began.  Natasha didn’t need any tech to hear the gunshots that followed about five minutes later.

There was some good news.  Once Clint and Natasha ran into the building, weapons ready, there was really no reason Steve’s quinjet couldn’t just land in the open area behind the complex when it arrived.  Stealth was no longer possible or useful now. The gunmen also let the day shift workers leave unharmed, so there was that. Apparently, not all the dam workers knew about the machine.

But Pockface wasn’t stupid.  He kept a gun on Tony and threatened to shoot him in the head this time.  Clint and Natasha had no choice but to surrender their weapons.   So now three Avengers were being held hostage, and none of them could help Tony.  It was clear even from across the machine room that he was in deep, deep trouble.  He was pale grey and sweaty, breathing shallowly, and not reacting even when Pockface shoved his gun against Tony’s temple to finally get Clint and Natasha to disarm and stand against a wall.

“I knew this guy was no dam inspector!” Mustache cried.  “This is the Hawkeye and the Black Widow!  That means he’s fuckin’ Tony Stark, man!  That’s the Ironman!”

“It’s just ‘Ironman’, dude.”  It kind of sounded to Clint like Mustache was having a fanboy moment.  That kind of stupidity did not bode well for this situation.

“Look,” Natasha tried, “You’re right.  OK?  That is Tony Stark.  You know what that means?  You save him, you’re heroes.  Probably rich, he’s generous as hell to people who help him.  But he dies?  You’re the assholes who killed Ironman.  You really want the rain of shit that’ll bring down on you?”  

“Shut the fuck up!”  Pockface screamed.  He was pacing up and down the length of Tony’s body where it lay on the floor, pulling at his own hair and muttering to himself in pressured Spanish.  He had clearly not known who his captives were.

“I can see you’re trying to find a way out of this.  Let us help you,” Natasha offered, speaking Spanish now, too.

Pockface looked up at her, and she thought she might have been about to get a dialogue going.  Except that, at that moment, Steve’s plane became audible.  It was not the sound of a normal airplane, and was already unmistakably close, which instantly sent Pockface into a full-on panic. He screamed to Mustache to go check out the sound and held his shaking gun on Clint and Natasha.  She tried, once, to continue the conversation, but he just brandished the gun and shrieked at her to shut up.

  ********************

Sam and Anita didn’t look at one another as the security guard, whose name was Alfonso, led them around a corner to a dead end hallway.  The corridor was out of the way, tucked back behind a massive cold storage unit whose contents Sam was trying very hard not to contemplate, given that they made pet food here.  As the guard had said, the doorway at the end, which was nondescript with paint beginning to flake off of it, had a keypad next to it.  It also had a black bubble above it, of the kind that housed surveillance cameras.  Sam glanced up at it and realized that, although it made him nervous, there was probably nobody monitoring the view from that camera anymore.  At least he hoped not.

Anita used the same Starktech gizmo she’d used before to disable the electronic lock.  This time, however, when the door opened, an alarm sounded, shrill and loud in the near-empty factory.  Sam grabbed security guard Alfonso by the scruff of his neck and hurled him through the door, slamming it as soon as Anita had slipped inside.  

“Fuck!” Sam hissed.  “What’s that alarm?  Who’s coming?”

Anita quickly translated and Alfonso began to babble agitatedly.  

“He doesn’t know,” Anita told Sam.  “He says he’s never heard that alarm before.  He thinks the other guards will come down here to check it out.”

“Can he radio them, tell them it’s all good?”

Anita asked Alfonso the question, but Sam almost didn’t listen to the answer.  Alfonso was too strung out now.  No one would believe him if he said everything was under control.  The best they could do now was to hope that Alfonso was telling the truth about not knowing what that alarm was.  That should mean none of the other guards did, either.  If there was no indication where the alarm was coming from, like a light outside the door to this room, maybe they’d have to spend time looking for the source…

Sam began frantically searching the room to see if he could find a control panel or something where he might be able to turn the alarm off.

  ************

As it turned out, Pockface didn’t need Mustache to tell him that the plane was coming for them.  Although the machine room had no windows, they could all hear the quinjet engines change pitch as it went into hover and then get louder as it descended.  Pockface spat another string of obscenities.  

“You know who that is, right?”  Natasha asked calmly.

Pockface’s response was another expletive.  Clint wanted to swear, too, because he really wished he spoke Spanish right now.  He wondered briefly whether the crazed gunman currently holding them hostage would let him pull out his phone so he could use Google Translate to follow along. Probably not.

“You know that’s Captain America,” Natasha continued, voice low and soothing.  “You do not wanna mess with him.  Lower your weapon so we can tell him not to kill you.”

Pockface knelt next to Tony then, and aimed his gun at Tony’s ashen face.  Mustache came running down the hall and into the room, eyes wide and breath heaving.  

“That plane landed!”

“I can hear that, idiot!”  Pockface hissed.  Why aren’t you out there making sure no one can get out without being shot?”

“Man, fuck that!  It’s gotta be more fuckin’ Avengers!  I don’ wanna die, man!”

“Shut up!  Just cover those two, you asshole, and let me think!”  

There were a lot of problems here.  One of the biggest was that there were two doors to the machine room.  They couldn’t cover both of them and the hostages, too.  Fuck Arias!  Why the hell did he have to get his ass captured?  Come to think of it, Pockface wondered, why the hell had he thought he should continue to guard the damn machine, anyway?  What had he thought he’d gain?  

He was mired in that thought when the door to his left sort of… disintegrated.  How the hell had Captain America moved so fast?  Mustache started to whimper.

That’s when Pockface started to get truly desperate.

“Captain America!”  He screamed.  “Show yourself!  If you don’t show yourself right now I’m going to put a bullet in Ironman’s skull!”

There was a noise from the door to the right and a fully-suited Captain America was suddenly filling the doorway, all shoulders and shield.  Pockface thought he looked seriously pissed.

“Throw your shield down,” Pockface cried.  “And don’t try anything.  You can’t hit both of us with it, so you try to throw it, one of your friends dies.”

Steve stood still for a moment, not moving so much as his eyes, then lowered his shield and set it on the floor.  He stepped oh-so-slowly past it, into the room and toward Pockface.

“That’s far enough!  Don’t –“

At that moment, a loud thud sounded behind Pockface as the second door exploded.  Steve dived for Pockface’s feet, but Pockface was already jumping away from the noise of the explosion.  Although Mustache screamed like a little girl, both he and Pockface somehow managed to keep enough of their wits to hold onto their weapons.  But at least Steve was now on the floor next to Tony, although Pockface could now hold his gun on both of them at the same time.

Tony’s eyes opened then.  “Capsicle?”  He whispered.

Steve reached out and placed a hand on Tony’s arm. “Relax, Tony.  I got this.”

Looking at the gun Pockface aimed at them, and the one Mustache aimed at Clint and Natasha, Tony actually managed a slight movement of his lips.  Although they had a terrifying bluish tinge to them now, Steve could see that it was an attempt at a mocking grin.

“See that,” Tony managed, wincing as a spasm of pain hit him.

Steve turned back to Pockface, twisting to get to his knees between Pockface and Tony.  “You gotta get him some help.  Look at him. He’s dying!”

“Can’t do that,” Pockface replied, his expression and the agitation in his voice terrifying evidence of how close he was to losing it. “Maybe I put him out of his misery.”

“No!” Steve cried, putting out a hand as though to stop a bullet from reaching Tony.

“Move aside, Captain America.”  Pockface gestured with his gun.  “Get over there with the others.”

Everyone in the room could see something in Steve change.  He straightened up, reaching back to put a hand on Tony’s abdomen.  His voice was suddenly made of granite as he growled, “I’m not leaving him.”

“I will kill you!”  Pockmark shrieked.

“You’re gonna have to, because I’m staying right here with him.  I’m not gonna let you hurt him any more.”

“I’ll shoot you! Don’t think I won’t!”

Steve looked behind him at Tony’s ashen, pain-stricken face.  Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before Steve turned back to Pockface.

“I believe you. I’m willing to take that bullet. Your move.”

Pockface scowled, hissing a string of words Steve didn’t understand, but was pretty sure were entirely foul.

And then he fired. Steve went down, somehow managing to twist so that he fell across Tony’s body with his arms covering Tony’s head protectively.

  ****************

Sam and Anita had been so focused on the alarm and keeping their eyes on Alfonso that it took a moment for it to register with Sam.  Their final machine was right here, in this room.  Sam turned to Anita.

“Look,” he said.

“Kinda hard to miss, Sam.”

“You think we should worry about the alarm? Or should we just take it out?”

“It takes almost half an hour.  No way the other guards don’t come in that kind of time.”

“Nah,” Sam grinned, pulling a grenade from his tac belt.  “It don’t have to take half an hour.”

“You sure?”  Anita asked, looking skeptical.

“What, you think we shouldn’t?”

“No, I think we should.  But they tell me I’m impulsive and reckless, so…”

Sam actually laughed.  

It still took ten minutes to dislodge the orb from the machine, in which time at least some of the other guards had gathered outside the door to the machine room.  Sam could hear them out there, and he figured he could guess what they were saying.  Once Anita had the orb in a pocket of her tac pants, she pulled Alfonso with her to stand next to the door.  Sam unlatched a large piece of the cowling covering the machine and looked inside, nodding with satisfaction.  

“Works,” he said, then came to stand next to Anita and a very confused and frightened Alfonso.  “Ready?”

“Ready,” Anita echoed, and put her hand on the doorknob.

Sam lifted the grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it in a beautiful underhand right into the open cowling on the machine. Before it had even landed, when it was clear the throw had been true, Anita tore the door open and the three of them ran, shouting, right past four very surprised security guards.  

The guards may have been surprised, but they recognized people fleeing for their lives, and decided to follow.  Especially since all three of those running were yelling, “Grenade!”

Sam was kind of bummed that they were already around a corner when he heard the explosion.  It wasn’t nearly as much fun to blow shit up if you couldn’t stick around to watch.

Once they hit the doors to the outside, the security guards slowed and turned around to look at the smoke beginning to trail out from where they’d just exited.  Sam and Anita kept right on running.  It wasn’t until they were over a hundred yards away that Alfonso noticed they hadn’t stopped.  

By then, it was too late.  Sam had already activated the EXO-7 and Anita was wrapping herself around him.  The security guards could only watch as whoever the hell those two had been simply rose into the sky and flew away.  

Alfonso didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to tell his boss.  

  *****************

When Pockface fired, neither Natasha nor Clint took the time to react verbally.  Before Steve stopped moving, Clint had swept an arrow from his quiver.  In the same move, he shoved it forcefully through Mustache’s earhole.  The sound of thin skullbone crunching and the arrow squelching through Mustache’s brain, this close up, was actually kind of gnarly. Which was why Clint really preferred to use his bow for this kind of thing.

Natasha was across the room with Pockface’s neck in both hands and a knee in his groin before Pockface had even properly begun to react to the fact that he’d just shot Captain America.  When Pockmark hit the ground in the fetal position, already cradling his balls, she calmly put a foot on his shoulder and rolled him over, soundlessly sliding the knife neither of the gunmen had thought to check for between Pockmark’s ribs.  Pockmark’s screeching ceased instantly, and Natasha was already giving instructions to Friday to remote pilot the helicopter in.

Clint stepped up to Natasha’s side and looked down at Steve and Tony. “Stark, we got. But Cap?  He’s gotta weigh a ton.  Gonna be rough getting him onto the chopper.”

Tony moaned and murmured something, and, to everyone’s surprise, Steve pushed himself up to a sitting position with a loud grunt. His hand went to his left upper chest, closer to his shoulder than his heart. Although he wasn’t mortally wounded, blood was already soaking his suit and oozing through his fingers.

“I can walk,” he forced out through teeth clenched against the pain.

“Steve!” Natasha was instantly on her knees beside him, while Clint knelt next to Tony, who was still mumbling.

As Sharon came streaking into the room toward Steve, Clint put his head down toward Tony.  He watched Tony’s lips closely and tipped his ear to hear him better, although his comms earpiece included a top of the line hearing aid and didn’t really need the proximity.

“Suit..” Tony gasped. “Friday…”

With that, Tony’s eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness. Clint startled, but could see that Tony was still breathing. Clint touched his earpiece. “Friday-“

“On it. Powering the suit up now. It’ll be there momentarily.”

“Hurry!” Clint cried.

“I’m not going to let the Boss down. But I am also monitoring his condition and flying a helicopter right now, in addition to my other responsibilities, so if you would kindly-”

“All right, all right. Sorry.”

[idiotbrainjuice]

What we do for love

Tony is like my favorite son so I gave him a favorite son. 

Read on AO3 

An extended mission calls for an overnight stay in a cramped Shield Safe-house, which suffice to say is not comfortable at all.  In a two room cabin, there’s not much space to sleep much less have a private conversation. After setting up for the night, they relax as well as any of them could. It’s not long till Tony, who isn’t one to be idle for too long, turns to Clint.

“Barton how’re your kids?” Tony’s question come out of the blue and Clint narrows his eyes. “Why are you asking?”  

“No reason I’m just curious, it must be hard being away from them all the time. How does your wife-”   

It’s like Tony doesn’t realise how obtuse his line of questioning is, so when Barton decidedly punches him in the face needless to say he assumes the worst like mind control.

“He’s not being mind controlled you ass. Stop talking about his family like you care. Knowing you, you probably have kids you couldn’t even care about.”

Natasha’s statement leaves a sour taste in his mouth but he apologizes.

“I didn’t know it was a touchy subject I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to check on something.”  

He leaves the room with his laptop gripped in his hands.

At some point in the night Steve wakes to quiet laughter, Tony’s. Sleep never come easy to Steve so he’s mad. Furious even, he can’t understand how Tony doesn’t even have the decency to stay quiet while everyone else is trying to sleep.

“Stark” Steve quietly barks his name and Tony turns stunned. The woman with the babbling baby continue on the screen not noticing something’s wrong “AJ, say hi to Daddy can you say hi?” Tony turns back to computer the tension still in his limbs bit slowly recede the more he talks to the baby. Steve stands frozen in the doorway. Not wanting to ruin the moment any further.

“When are you coming home?” The woman who Steve now sees is Pepper asks worry clear in her voice. Tony sighs “I don’t know he says and he knows he says this too many times “We’re not done here yet so it might be a bit longer.”  Steve sees the resignation in her posture. It’s been the same song and dance for a while and it’s weighing down on her.

“Peps, I have to go. AJ hey,” the baby wiggles his gummy smile widening at his name “I love you buddy take care of your mother. Pepper, I promise I will try to make it home for his birthday I love you.”

“You have two months! I love you too.” The call ends and Tony doesn’t move.

“Tony-”

“Good night Rogers” it’s a dismissal if he’s ever heard one

“Why didn’t you tell us?” there are multiple reasons that Steve can think of but from his own team?

“Goodnight Rogers.”

The next morning there’s a tension in the air that none can seem to place. Tony had already apologized to Barton actually giving him the laptop so he could talk to his family. “It doesn’t matter where you are and it’s untraceable so they’ll be safe if you talk to them. Sorry about yesterday I was just curious.” With no warning he’s engulfed in a hug with a whispered “Thank you so much” from the archer. Despite this there was still the tension. Tony knows what it is and is avoiding Steve’s concerned gaze.

There’s not much time to dwell on the issue however. Because their current mission took a turn for the worst. It wasn’t the first time it had happened Bruce was a prime example but someone had been trying to replicate the Super Soldier Serum and this one had been the closest thus far. Reports of seemingly invincible men and women terrorizing cities grew. It wasn’t a pressing issue only because these enhanced people would burn through whatever serum it was and revert back to who they used to be an moments later die an agonizing death. It wasn’t until the first child soldier they actually pushed the issue to the front.

It was expected that they would have to deal with an insane scientist trying to bring on a new age but what they didn’t expect was that he was backed by some other worldly God whose power came from child sacrifices.

“I didn’t know, I just wanted to help my country!” The scientist barely makes it out when the fight starts there’s blood streaming down his ghostly pale face as he cowers by the God’s altar.

All their effort combined isn’t doing anything and how would it against this 15 foot tall beast of a god. Brute force from the Hulk seemed like pelting Godzilla with rocks.

The god chuckles an awful grating sound. “I tire of this, Cease Archer and Metal man lest you see your children fall victim to my worshippers.”  

An arrow sinks deep between his eyes at the same time a beam pierces its side the wounds healing immediately.  It chuckles again. “This world is cruel, what people would do for power. I thrive here.”

“What else do we have?”

“It’s trying to get a rise out of us Barton, don’t listen” He scoops up the archer getting him to a higher vantage point “Easy for you to say you don’t understand having kids!”

Tony’s eyes track the God who favors the side close to the portal. It’s trying to protect something without giving up what it is. Old gods need altars “Old gods need Altars, we need to destroy the portal and the altar.” A hand bats him out of the air slamming him into the concrete dazing him momentarily. “Stark- Stark! Status?” “I’m fine I’m fine are they down?” He takes off again surveying the chaos. He must have been out longer than he thought because the Portal was a flaming mess and the Scientist is in the act of smashing the altar. Before a foot comes smashing  into him. Despite both those things being destroyed the god is still there albeit weakened. And still nothing they do is stopping it. “No matter, When I kill you and I will. It won’t take long before I have followers again. Metal Man, I’ll go for your child first.”  

“Jarvis charge the beam.”

“Sir, I adamantly advise against this.”

The Unibeam took A LOT of power and we’re talking nearly everything that powered the suit if the heat from the beam didn’t burn through his chest, the fall would definitely kill him.

“Jarvis do it now”

“Tony, this will literally kill you, we’ll find another way!”  In Tony’s mind there’s no way out and realistically there is no other way. Any other plan is just extremely wishful thinking. “Bruce, take care of AJ challenge him, I don’t trust Richards” he chuckles and faces the beast head on.

“Call Pepper for me would you buddy?” The whine of the Unibeam resonates in his suit as the phone rings. “Tony It’s all on the news are you ok?”

“Yeah, we’re alright but to take this thing down we need more fire power,” She’s silent for a long while. “I’m sorry”

The rest of the Avengers only hear the one sided conversation their hearts more than heavy.

“Pepper, I love you, no Pep please I need to say this, I Love you and when AJ was born it was the happiest day of my life and I’d do anything to protect both of you. And that’s what I’m doing.” There’s a break where it should be assumed that Pepper is trying to talk him out of it. “No, there’s no other way.” He sighs “Let AJ know that I love him and there will never be a moment when I’m not proud of him ok. Now sure he gives his Great-Uncle Nick a hard time. I love you.” he ends the call on her plea.

“The beam is fully charged sir”   

“Fire.” The beam erupts from his chest cutting through the god’s bone and muscles, a deep gash from shoulder to hip Severing the god in two. But Tony isn’t awake to see it. He hopes that he did because dying for nothing leaving Pepper and his son behind for nothing would be the worst fate imaginable.

The first time he wakes he’s in pain, his chest feels like it’s on fire. The pain radiates from the center of his chest and that is enough to send him into a panic trying to jerk himself with no success out of the bed.  His breathing comes in short gasps bringing to his attention a pain in his side and it doesn’t help that he can’t move his arms. His eyes scan the room fear increasing when he doesn’t recognize where he is. His eyes land on a woman. “Pepper.” Black spots swim in his vision, and he’s gone.  

The second time he wakes his eyes dart around the room trying to find something. His mind is sluggishly trying to remember. Words spill from his mouth none of it making sense. Again it feels like he’s drowning but not in water, just the feeling of missing some huge crucial fact. “Tony?”  And just like that he can breathe. His world is focused on the voice and his eyes finally land on her. “Pepper.” it hurts to speak but she’s actually here.  “Where’s-” He hears a baby cooing next to him and turns. If he didn’t have eyes for just his son, he would  have seen the rest of his team sitting around his bed.  AJ sees him and reaches his arms out towards him.

If he wasn’t already crying, he was crying now. “Hi. Hi.” He’s peppering AJ’s face with kisses drawing laughter from the boy. “Look at you, you’re so big now.” Pepper’s next to him now leaning down and pressing the tenderest of kisses to his lips.”I thought we lost you.”

Someone clears their throat and it puts the happy family reunion to a halt. “Oh it’s you all.”

“Nice of you to finally join the land of the living you had a couple close calls.” Bruce stands putting a hand on his shoulder. “Glad you’re still with us.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave this little guy behind.” AJ smiles waving his chubby fists.

“About this little guy, why didn’t you tell us and you let us say awful things to you.” Natasha looks apologetic. And Pepper raises her hand meekly. “Tony’s made a lot of enemies over the years, I felt better if I was out of the limelight. You of all people should understand Clint.”

The archer  gives a weak smile patting his chest where he keeps his family photo “Apologies are in order then. Sorry for punching you in the face Stark.”

Tony laughs prompting AJ to laugh with him “Don’t worry about it.” His grin widens into a yawn “You think after sleeping for- How many days?”  “A week”

“Wow really, you’re not just pulling my leg? Wow.” He looks Anthony Junior in the eyes a smile on his lips “Daddy’s not going anywhere bud, just a quick nap-” the rest of his words are lost in another yawn.

“Alright, we’re gonna let you sleep now.” Pepper lifts their son from his arms leaning over for another kiss and pressing her head against his. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”