#stoncy fic

[monsterhunting]

auld lang syne

rated T | 1.5k | post-canon, new year’s eve, accidental kissing

Nancy thinks there’s a reality in which she could’ve mistakenly kissed her ex-boyfriend in front of her current boyfriend on New Year's Eve and all three of them could’ve had a good laugh about it after. Probably, that could’ve been this reality, except Steve has a tight look on his face, and Jonathan’s face is very red, and Nancy is pretty sure she’s massively fucking this up.

read on ao3 (and happy new year!)

[karadanverss]

Spark Notes

Words: 12992

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters(s): Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, Barbara Holland

Pairing(s): Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

Summary: It was love at first sight. One look at Nancy Wheeler was enough for Steve Harrington to fall head over heels. While Steve is no stranger to the art of seduction, he soon realizes that Nancy is going to require a different level of courting than he's accustomed to. He enlists the help of Jonathan Byers to help send love letters to her. Over time they develop a friendship and while Steve's affections for Nancy never falter, he begins to think he might be able to feel this way for two people at once.

Fic by NomadicWolf

Art by @freedom-in-darkness!

beta read by @melsmalone

for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

[thaliaisalesbian]

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 22: how many times will i do this

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23

“I can’t believe you. ABBA? You like ABBA enough to dance to it like this?” Jonathan knows, of course, that Steve—Nancy, too, but Steve’s a little more intense about than she is—likes ABBA, but somehow, dancing to it on the regular hadn’t crossed his mind as an event he might have to take part in.

“I can’t believe you don’t.” Steve spins Nancy like they’re dancing in a ballroom, not his too-big, too-empty kitchen, like they’ve got slow music playing instead of… ABBA.

“Jon, come on, you have to know by now that Steve and I have got you beat on this one.” Nancy grins, holding out a hand to him. “Just give in already.”

“I don’t know, Nance.” Steve tugs her a little closer. He’s been less cautious lately, about what he does, what he says.

Jonathan hopes it means that he’s starting to realize that they’re not going anywhere.

“Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be me keeping you?” Nancy leans up to kiss him lightly. “You wouldn’t be able to, you’d miss Jonathan too much.”

“Yeah, I would.” Now it’s Steve holding out his hand. “She’s right, Jon. You should join us.”

“Someone has to make dinner.”

“Nah, let’s order pizza instead. Come on, Jonathan. I think you can stand dancing to ABBA once in your life.”

“If you both insist…” He rolls his eyes. Dancing with three people who refuse to let go of each other is difficult, but they’ve been figuring this out for a few weeks now. They’ve got this figured out.

Or they’re trying, at least.

“Steve!” Nancy’s trying for stern, but she’s laughing too much. “Steve, you’re not supposed to end up on the floor!”

“The floor is a perfectly fine place to end up, Nance, I don’t know what you mean.” There’s a slight catch to Steve’s voice—a couple of months ago, Jonathan wouldn’t have even noticed it.

“Ankles or side?”

“Ankles. Side’s fine.”

Mom had thought this would happen—they couldn’t take Steve to an actual doctor even now.

Well, maybe now they could. But the scars are thick and obvious, and he knows Steve doesn’t want to explain them. 

Jonathan can’t blame him for that.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Nancy’s got that little frown on her face; when it’s not directed at him it’s kind of cute.

“It’s not bad, guys, really. I didn’t even notice until I was on the floor.”

Steve’s so good at pretending nothing was ever wrong that it’s easy to believe.

Mom thinks there’s probably permanent muscle damage. Nerve damage, maybe. They don’t have a good way of knowing.

“Let’s order the pizza.” He helps Steve up. “We can start our movie night a little early.”

Steve leans on him a little, less than Jonathan had thought he would need to.

Steve doesn’t usually let them fuss over him—he certainly hadn’t when the wounds were still fresh, not when he was coherent enough to avoid it. He lets them set him up on the couch, Nancy’s fingers massaging his ankles gently. Jonathan already knows they’re not actually going to pay attention to the movies they’ve picked—they always pick ones they’ve seen before on purpose—but they’re not going to be too busy making out and teasing each other this time. Still, it’s nice to have the background noise, and Steve’s said before that having something else to focus on helps.

“Ghostbusters? Really, Steve?”

“Dustin wants to watch it like, four times a week, I figured it’d just be better if I owned it at that point.”

“Well, I guess that’s what we’re watching then.”

Nancy groans. “Really, Jon? You don’t get enough of that with Will? Mike’s not as bad as Dustin about it, but he’s had his obsession with it, too.”

“I haven’t actually seen it.” He admits. “Will usually watches it with the others. It’s not something we’ve watched together.”

“Really? Dustin’s yelled at me for not paying attention before.” Steve props himself up on his elbow. “Will’s probably the least intense of the shitheads, though, so I guess that makes sense.”

“That’s why Dustin’s my favorite.”

“Shut up, Nance.” Steve laughs. “See if I kiss you at all tonight, huh?”

finish on ao3 or continue reading

“You won’t be able to help yourself.” Nancy says primly. “I know you, Steve Harrington, and even you’re not fool enough to think you could follow through on that.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But I can do it for now. Jonathan, come here, please.” Sometimes it’s easy to feel left out, with them, but they always manage to draw him right back in.

He’s working on it.

“I hope you know I’m not going to stop kissing Nancy for you.” He says, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. She’s a good kisser, isn’t she?” Steve winks over at her, and she just slaps his thigh.

“If you’re going to kiss Jonathan, just do it already.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know he likes watching us banter.” He doesn’t get a chance to put the movie down before Steve grabs his shirt, kissing the corner of his mouth before pulling Jonathan on top of him.

“Well then.” He hears Nancy mutter, and he knows if he looked back at her, she’d have that look on her face.

Maybe they’ll do more making out tonight than Jonathan thought.

Steve kisses like it’s a contest he’s got to win, at least at first. As soon as Jonathan pins his wrists, or puts a hand on his chest, or does… pretty much anything, actually, Steve relaxes into it. It’s more than a little hot, and Jonathan’s never had a bad kiss with either Nancy or Steve, but there’s something about that—winning the ‘contest’, as it were—that just makes it so much better.

He’s the first one up the next morning—not a surprise, Steve is still recovering and Nancy has never been a morning person anyway.

Untangling himself from them to sneak away and make breakfast is one of the hardest things he’s done recently, and he’s been in the Upside Down and Mrs. Click’s class recently.

He’s tried to avoid thinking about Steve’s room and how ‘showroomy’ it is. Nancy had told him not to ask before his first visit, saying that Steve’s not allowed to decorate at his dad’s orders.

The kitchen is much the same: All-white coffee mugs and plates, fancy but impersonal glassware, and a silverware set that might be made out of actual silver but is free of dings and imperfections.

At home, he has his mug, something Will painted for him the other year, and Mom has one from each of them. Their silverware is dinged up from use, and they have a variety of novelty plates and glasses.

It’s like no one lives here, because it doesn’t feel lived in. No worn spots on the couches or chairs, the decor is tasteful but there’s no family photos anywhere. 

If Mom and Hopper got their way, it would actually be true. Steve would stay with them all the time. Having his boyfriend over all the time? It would be fantastic.

Or a deal breaker.

Steve’s good at masks, and Jonathan can tell that sometimes he’s more uncomfortable than he lets on.

He might still think this is temporary. That once he’s fully recovered, they’ll leave him again.

They’ll need to have a conversation about it, at some point. There’s no amount of kissing that will convince Steve otherwise, especially when sometimes kissing seems to make things worse.

He’s gotten very good at pulling himself and Nancy back when that’s happening. He’s not going to let Steve’s apparent avoidance of saying ‘no’—or maybe he thinks he can’t, which is another conversation they need to have—ruin them.

The Harringtons’ fridge and pantry  is stocked full. Steve had insisted on doing his own grocery runs, but most of it looks like the kids’ favorites, not Steve’s (dark chocolate, sparkling water, and strawberries), and there’s not much actual food. It’s protein shakes and protein bars.

“Jonathan?”

“Hey, Steve. Thought you would sleep longer.”

“You were gone.” Steve rests his head on Jonathan’s back, as if he were the shorter of them. “You’re warm.” So is Steve. His forehead is radiating heat.

He doesn’t need to be sick again.

Fuck, what if he’s gotten another infection? He’s been healing up so well, he doesn’t even have any stitches anymore.

“Nance is up too, but she wanted to clean up first.” Normally that’s something Steve would do with her. He likes to help them both dress for bed, completely non-sexually, it just seems to settle something in him. “What are you making?”

“Eggs and toast.” It’s about the only non-kid or protein-based thing Steve’s got. “Do you wanna come over for dinner this week?”

“Mmm.” Whatever he’s trying to say is muffled by Jonathan’s shirt. “I go back to school this week.”

“Yeah, you do.” There’s no way Steve is catching up, and they all know it. He might pass one or two of his classes, but he’s missed too much to pass them all. He’s been working hard on his make-up assignments, but there are a lot of them, and without instruction, only so much he can do. “All the more reason to come over.”

“I don’t want—” Steve inhales sharply, and must rock back on his heels, because he pulls Jonathan off-balance a little. “I don’t want Will to see me like that.”

“Like what?” Will’s seen him doing his make-up work before. Will’s even read some of them out loud to him. So what is Steve talking about?

“It’s one thing for the kids to know I’m stupid, it’s another for them to see it.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.” Jonathan turns the burner off so he can turn around. “You’ve had a few concussions, and those can make things more difficult. But you’re not stupid.”

“I can’t even read right, Jon.” Steve whispers. “I can’t—I don’t know how to read, of course I’m stupid. And the concussions shouldn’t matter. I should be able to focus in class and understand things, and I can’t. I’m only good for sports and making sure the kids are safe.”

“Steve, no.” Jonathan pulls him to the couch. “That’s… that’s not true. Nancy and I love you, my mom and Hopper love you, and the kids, of course. Dustin looks up to you so much, and Will based one of his characters on you. El thinks you’re the best person in the world, maybe after Hopper.”

‘“But if I stopped giving them rides and bringing them food, would they?”

“You haven’t been able to give them rides lately, Steve.”

“I know. And I don’t see them! None of them come to visit, not even Will or Mike when you and Nancy come over.”

Shit. Hopper and Mom had limited visitors for a while, but now they’re not and while the kids have asked about Steve plenty, they’ve never actually asked to come see him.

They demanded it, at the beginning, but it’s been a while since they’ve done that.

This weekend is probably the first time he’s seen most of the kids in a while. Mike had been over the other day, sure, but it’s not like he was there to talk to Steve. Dustin, Max, and Lucas—Jonathan can’t even remember when he’d seen them before Friday night, when they’d all been over to move Steve back in.

The kids had seemed fine with each other, but maybe they had a fight or something.

That probably wouldn’t stop them from seeing Steve, though.

“Doesn’t Dustin call you every day?”

“Yeah, but I’ve told him I can come see him, or take him to a movie or something, and he always says no.”

“You’re not supposed to be driving much, Steve. I’m getting you for school tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah.” There’s something on Steve’s face that said he hadn’t remembered, but with two concussions—that Jonathan knows about—that’s not a surprise. That, and they’ve spent this weekend, the first weekend Steve’s been back in his house, just spending time together and getting things set up. He probably hasn’t been thinking about school at all.

“Good. You’re not only good for sports and rides, Steve, I promise. The kids might just not know what they can do with you, now. Aren’t they usually all over you?” If Nancy were down here, she might know what to say. But he knows Steve is still nursing hurt over how their relationship ended, that it crushed him, so maybe not.

“Good morning, my boys!” Nancy hasn’t seen them yet, and Steve tries to straighten up and put on a smile. 

It doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong? Steve, did you pull something? Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing big, Nance, I don’t want to bug you with it.” Steve tells her, like it’s easy. Like he wasn’t nearly crying a few minutes ago because he thinks he’s stupid.

“Steve, I’m not letting you downplay this, okay?” Steve watches his face for a minute, then nods before curling into Jonathan’s shoulder and staying there.

“Is it school? Steve, if you don’t want to go back yet, I’m sure we can get you more time. Maybe you could just skip the end of the year entirely.”

‘You’re not going to pass anyway.’ goes unsaid, and he realizes that unintentionally, Nancy is part of the problem. She thinks she’s helping; maybe even thinks all of the solutions she’s posed to get Steve passing grades for this year are kind. But has she asked Steve if that’s what he wants? Have any of them?

They’ve asked if he wants to go back to school, and he said yes. But they haven’t asked if he thinks he’s going to pass any of his classes, or if he even really wants to try passing them, after all this time.

He probably is, too. Without trying, they’ve been hurting Steve, and it’s finally all coming to a head.

Of course it’s when Steve’s sick, because this is probably the only time his guard is down enough for him to tell them this. He’d never want them to know otherwise.

And Steve is the most emotionally competent of the three of them. At least when it comes to their feelings, and the kids’, and apparently anyone but himself.

“You can tell me, Steve.” Nancy is too proper to slide down the banister (Jonathan’s not—it’s fun), or to outright run down the stairs when no one is actively bleeding, but she settles onto the arm of the couch  as fast as she possibly can. She tilts Steve’s face toward her. “Oh, you’re burning up, babe. Does your side hurt? Your ankles?” Steve shakes his head.

“Just sick?” She meets Jonathan’s eyes for a minute. Steve’s warm, but he’s warm all over, not the concentrated heat that would signal an infection in one specific spot.

Unless it’s sepsis. It can’t be sepsis, though, right? They would have caught that before. Steve hasn’t been infected for a while, there’s no way it’s sepsis.

Jonathan almost doesn’t want Nancy to ask what they’d been talking about that had gotten him this upset. They can focus on Steve being sick instead.

A door slams outside, and they all jump. None of them are expecting anyone, and it’s not like Mom or Hopper would slam the door.

Steve’s scrambling off of him and shoving them toward the back door. Jonathan had parked on a little side road; there had been construction on one of the houses when they’d gotten here.

“Go, go, go!” Steve pushes a little harder.  “My parents are home—they weren’t supposed to be back yet—go, get out of here. They’ll be pissed if you’re still here, I don’t know what they’ll say to you.”

“Come with us!”

“My car is in the driveway, if I’m not here I’ll just get into more trouble later. Go. I’ll see you at school.”

Jonathan hears the door lock behind them.

He wants to go back in, but the key Nancy has is for the front door.

The only thing he can do is let her pull him away, hoping that tomorrow morning, they’ll be gone again.

<- 21 23->

[throttlegainwell]

The important thing to keep in mind was that none of them had any idea what they were doing. The other important thing to keep in mind was that that had been equally true in literal life-or-death horror situations, and everything had more or less worked out fine. So what was a little clumsy assplay between friends?

Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy try something new in bed. Rated E. ~7k.

Pure, uncomplicated, graphic porn.

[librathefangirl]

Warm Hands

The last thing Steve remembers before it turns black is white hot blinding pain. His name being screamed. Cold ground and warm hands. And the sound of gunfire.

The first thing he notices as he wakes is an insistent beeping. His body feeling simultaneously numb and like it’s been run over by a truck. Warm hands. And soft mumblings.

(Stoncy Week 2022, Day 1)

Written for Stoncy Week 2022, Day 1: Patching Up/Post-Fight OR AND Fake Dating AU.

I couldn’t decide between the two, so I combined them, sort of. But mostly the first one.

The last thing Steve remembers before it turns black is white hot blinding pain. His name being screamed. Cold ground and warm hands. And the sound of gunfire.

The first thing he notices as he wakes is an insistent beeping. His body feeling simultaneously numb and like it’s been run over by a truck. Warm hands. And soft mumblings.

As he opens his eyes, he sees Nancy sitting beside his bed – hospital bed? that’s not good – running her hand gently through his hair. She’s speaking quietly, words he can’t quite make out, but she’s not looking at him. A sigh pulls his attention to his other side. Jonathan’s there. His hands wrapped around Steve’s own, thumb making soothing circles on his skin.

Jonathan freezes as he meets Steve’s gaze. A half-choked gasp leaving his lips.

They both look like shit, Steve notes. Hair completes messes. Eyes red and puffy. And is that dirt or blood specks on Jonathan’s shirt?

“Steve!” Nancy’s other hand cups Steve’s cheek and turns his head towards her. “Hi.”

Nancy’s eyes are wet.

“Hey...” Steve mumbles. It feels like his brain can’t quite connect the pieces. They’re both watching him like they think he’ll break while looking like they’re about to break themselves.

“Jesus,” Jonathan then breathes out, leaning back in his chair. One hand remains tightly wrapped around Steve’s. It’s warm. Secure.

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees in a similar manner. She removes her hand from his cheek and Steve almost asks her to put it back. Almost. His brain is finally starting to catch up.

“What... happened?” Nancy and Jonathan share an uneasy look at his question.

“What do you remember?” she asks instead. Steve tries to think back. It’s all a little muddy.

“Uhm... monster?” It comes out more like a question than an answer. “Did we get it?”

“Yes, it’s gone now. For good,” Jonathan says, a hard look in his eyes.

They got the monster. But... Steve’s in the hospital. That’s not good.

“I got swiped?”

The look Nancy gives him is almost a glare, “That’s a big fucking understatement.”

Steve flounders. Did he do something wrong?

Jonathan’s gaze softens as he uses his free hand to lift up the blanket. Steve blinks at the sight underneath. His chest is almost completely covered in bandages. Yeah. Not good.

“Oh.”

Jonathan places the blanket back down. His hand gently gracing over Steve’s chest. Jonathan gives him a warm smile. Nancy still looks angry.

Steve gives her an uncertain look, and she sighs, “You scared the shit out of us, Steve.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just- Don’t do it again,” Jonathan says and Steve smiles.

“Not making any promises.”

“Of course you won’t,” Nancy scoffs half-heartedly. “Next time, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I’ll remember that,” Steve replies, slightly scared. A pissed off Nancy is no joking matter. He looks around the room. “So... hospital?”

“For about,” Jonathan glances at the clock on the wall, “20 hours now. Shit, I should go.”

Steve grips his hand tighter as Jonathan tries to let go. Nancy squeezes his shoulder in comfort as she sees it.

“We’re not actually supposed to be here,” Jonathan explains.

“What do you mean?”

“Only family is allowed,” Nancy says with a shrug. They are his family. Not by hospital rules probably, but still. His family.

“So how’d you get in?”

“Nancy told them she was your fiancé,” Jonathan tells him. Nancy kisses the surprised look of Steve’s face before he has the chance to dwell on that.

“And then I snuck Jonathan in,” she then adds.

“Just had to make sure you were alright.” Jonathan leans in a kisses him. Then he stands up, pulling his hand from Steve’s. “But I need to go before the nurse finds me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gives Nancy a kiss before disappearing out the door. She makes no move to leave.

“You’re staying?”

“I’ve killed monsters. I doubt a nurse can do much worse.”

Steve huffs a small laugh. His eyes starting to get heavy again.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[stevethehousewife]

Steve’s been staring up at the ceiling fan in his bedroom for the last hour or so.

Sundays have been the bane of his existence since he started working a 9-5 job, he can normally get shifts on the other six days of the week, but Sundays… he never has anything to do on Sundays.

And he can’t exactly bother Robin, because she’s busy working her second job, having actual things to do.

He can’t go hang out with Dustin either, because the kid still has normal homework and shit that he really has to do on Sundays - like have a life, and other friends, not just Steve.

It’s the worst day of the week.

And no matter how many hobbies he manages to get into, only to lose interest after a month or so, he still ends up completely bored, with nothing to do on a Sunday.

What the hell is he supposed to do on a day like this when everyone he knows is busy?

He could go out, but he’s already tight on money as it is, so driving around mindlessly would just be a waste of gas. And anything to fill the time would also include money.

Sundays… Sundays always suck.

*

“Duck!” he shouts, reaching out and grabbing Dustin’s arm, pulling him down and motioning back the other way they came from, “Run!”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Dustin starts screaming as they sprint across the field, his voice growing louder and more hoarse with every word, “Shiiiiiiit!”

Steve’s trying his best not to trip on the overgrowth under their feet, but it isn’t easy, the give under the soles of his shoes doesn’t help, each squish followed immediately by another making his skin crawl and his stomach turn on top of all the panic and dread.

“This was supposed to be my Sunday!” he shouts over the chorus of howls from monsters behind them, “Uneventful! Boring! Sunday!”

Dustin meets his eyes, still screaming ‘Shit’ over and over again as they pass a few gloomy-looking buildings (on the outskirts of town?)*, but no matter how fast they run, the Mind Flayer is gaining on them.

They’re just a short distance from the others. Steve can see the forms of Nancy, Jonathan, Eleven, and the rest of the gang, just within sight.

The Mind Flayer throws its arm out (if you can call it an arm) and Steve moves to take the hit when he sees it coming in for Dustin. The swipe catches him in the side, throwing him off his feet and he hits the ground, the air rushing out of his lungs before he’s being lifted back up.

He hears Dustin call after him, his voice breaking halfway through Steve’s name.

“Run, you dipshit!” he shouts back just before he’s dropped through a large hole in the ground, looking up to see it closing after him.

Loose roots and stuff he probably wouldn’t know how to pronounce hit his face on the slide down, dropping deep down under the surface in a winding decline until his feet hit the ground hard, kicking what little air he had left in his lungs back out for a second time.

He collapses, shivering and checking himself over the moment he feels confident enough to try and move.

Nothing seems to be broken, nothing’s bleeding.

Steve stands up and dusts himself off, nervously looking around at the large, swooping walls ahead, filled from wall to wall, floor to ceiling with these strange, small indents that look kind of like spaces in an egg carton.

He steps closer to try and get a better look at it all, but then he starts to make out faces in the spaces - all of them in various forms of decomposition - some are full skeletons, others still look fresh, maybe even alive, but none of them are moving.

Steve’s heart rate starts to pick up, he’s panicking, already on edge when he hears a sound behind him and he turns quickly to look, a second from screaming at whatever it is, but there’s nothing there, nothing he can see, at least.

He walks carefully, quietly along the walls, trying to find a way out of whatever hell hole he’s been dropped into, but also being unable to look away from the people webbed over against the walls. He’s not sure if he should… do something. If he could try freeing some of the ones that are still alive (or appear to be, at least), or if that would get him put right next to them.

Most of them barely even look like people, let alone someone that would be able to be saved. They’re all strangers, all suffering or suffered, but he wouldn’t know where to start.

As he’s glancing around, his eyes turn to this sort of… center platform, there his eyes pass over a strangely familiar flash of hair… hair that he shouldn’t be able to see under these circumstances, and his stomach sinks, changing his trajectory to get a closer look.

Steve walks forward, legs and arms numbing, moving on autopilot as his blood goes cold, taking in the man’s lithe, naked form, feet on the ground, hands balled into fists, his body twisted backwards at the waist.

Only when Steve’s close enough does he notice the tremor of the man’s body, something small, like a current being run through it. But he doesn’t scream, doesn’t fight, he just stays still and shakes continuously from head to foot like he’s in an extreme amount of pain.

It’s the strangest, most out-of-body experience he’s ever had, looking at himself in this way. Well, himself, but very clearly not himself. Himself, but different in ways that don’t make a whole lot of sense - at least not to what he knows, and assuming this is some kind of freshly-grown copy (which it can’t be, considering there are differences, important differences).

Scars litter his body - new ones, newer ones, ones that look almost fresh. Two really fresh ones on his arm that look like they’ve only just happened, but have been cleaned up. There’s one on his side that looks… for lack of a better word, unpleasant, and Steve almost reaches out to touch it.

At his feet is a pile of clothes that must be his, but they look like they’ve been there longer than he has.

His hair, though styled similar enough, is definitely longer. There’s a cut in his brow that Steve absolutely doesn’t have but he can’t see much else on the face to tell them apart other than the stubble because there’s this thing, whatever it is, attached to his face like something that can’t, or shouldn’t, be removed.

Arms of it are latched to his temples, into his ears, and covering everything from his eyes down to his chin. It’s… kind of grotesque, as it pulses like a living creature, doing whatever it’s doing to keep him in the state he’s in. Different from the others, but probably not that much better off. It doesn’t look pleasant.

Looking at himself in the state he is, the rest of it, Steve feels a sudden urge to turn away, to give him some privacy, but… well… he doesn’t really seem to be conscious enough to care for it.

It’s pretty jarring to see himself like this, unlike everything else Steve’s seen down here so far. Disturbing in its own way. He can’t make any sense as to why he’s been separated from the rest of the people, only one of maybe three or four others set out like this, and Steve watches his chest as it slowly rises and falls with his breaths.

He’s not dead. Somewhere in this, he’s alive.

Steve can’t leave him like this, no one deserves this kind of fate, but he definitely can’t walk away knowing that someone - someone that seems to be him - is doomed to a life down here, connected up like some kind of… some kind of… weirdly sexual, twisted centerfold.

He nervously reaches out, shaking fingers tentative to even touch him, should it be the wrong course of action. But he has to do it, he has to do something to help. He has to at least try.

The moment his fingers brush the cold skin of his torso, he stops trembling in that unusual way, instead twisting back and forth violently like he’s trying to get away, or get out of what he’s stuck in, and Steve nearly jumps back.

He considers trying to pull the thing from the guy’s face, but decides he’ll wait on that. For now, he starts on the wrists, which is harder than he thought it’d be.

The things wrapped around him are latched onto him like suckers on an octopus, peeling up and leaving little red spots that Steve immediately realizes are droplets of blood, little pools rising to the surface of the skin because they weren’t just suckers. Underneath, they were attached to him with many little razor-like teeth.

Steve manages to free one hand and then the other. He steps back to access the rest of it, not really sure where to go next, but it seems like other Steve has some kind of idea, ripping himself from the monstrosity on his face, ears first and then the rest.

Something attached, long and pulsing, is ripped from his throat as he pulls and pulls until it’s all out, falling forward coughing and gagging.

Steve reaches out to try and catch him, only to realize that he’s working on his feet, and then the rest of his body, ripping the little suckers out one by one before his eyes finally snap up and lock onto Steve’s.

“You…” he mutters, voice hoarse and low as he stares at Steve in disbelief, “You-you-” he starts coughing, leaning over to do it and Steve watches in morbid horror and disgust as he coughs up some nasty-looking slug things, one after the other after another.

Steve nearly gags, too stunned for words of his own as his stomach flips.

The other him wipes quickly at his mouth a few times, spitting and hacking and making all kinds of unpleasant sounds as he clears his passageway, shivering through his whole body before he finally looks up again, looks around, and then he stands on wobbling legs, walking first, then running.

“Uh, hey, wait,” Steve starts, reaching down to grab up the bundle of clothes that had been placed at his feet before following after him, “Where are you going?”

He can’t tell if the guy knows where he’s headed, but he’s making a direct beeline to the pods along the wall.

“No, no, no, no,” Steve can hear him saying over and over again as he reaches a few of the indents, ones that have already long since decayed into full-on skeletons, “No!”

He touches one of them, grimy hands with broken fingernails and trembling fingers running along the skull’s jaw, and then he starts to reach out to the other skeleton beside it and stops.

“No,” he says in this small, scared, defeated voice, sounding nothing like Steve’s ever sounded like before, and then he drops to his knees.

Steve’s never reacted in such a way to anything in his life, so it’s hard enough to imagine in the first place, but it’s totally wild seeing it happen from the outsider’s perspective.

“No,” his other self says again, louder this time, his voice shaking as he looks up at them both.

His shoulders tremble, his hair falls in his face and he moves to the first one he’d touched, dropping his head against their jeans as he starts openly sobbing. Steve doesn’t really know what’s happening, or what kind of bizarro world he’s stepped into, but a knot forms in his throat as he watches his other self break down into pieces.

“Hey-” he tries again, clearing his throat and reaching out to touch his bare shoulder.

Other Steve’s eyes turn to him once more and he stands suddenly, grabbing Steve by the collar of his jacket and swinging him around, the clothes in his hands dropping to the ground as he slams Steve against the wall. He’s… really strong, Jesus Christ.

“Why did you let me out!?” he shouts, “Why!? I don’t-” the rage on his face is near animalistic, red speckles dotting his cheekbones, his jaw, his temples, lashes damp with tears. His eyes are wild and wide, nostrils flared, and Steve wonders if this is what he looked like when he fought Jonathan that one time. It’s not the same, with this other him naked and furious and… god, he’s getting hard and he really, really shouldn’t, “You don’t understand! I don’t want to be here without them.”

He starts crying again, choked sounds breaking out of him as he drops his head against Steve’s chest. Steve doesn’t really understand what to do, what to say, boner effectively wilting as he glances helplessly at the skeletons and tries to place who they are, who they used to be.

Whoever they are, they were important to him. And they’re gone now, and whatever’s left is… well, whatever this other version of him is, he supposes.

Steve swallows tightly, his hand coming up and touching his cheek, heart thrumming when he leans into it the moment he does it and Steve feels his own bottom lip start to wobble. Shit. He blinks quickly, fighting back the blurring in his eyes and reaching his other hand up to rest it on his neck first, then carding it up into his hair.

“Look,” he says when he’s confident enough that his voice won’t betray everything he’s feeling right now, “I didn’t get you out of that… that thing. I touched you, that’s all I did, I swear. You got yourself out. And if we don’t leave here, preferably soon, we’re going to be next on this wall. And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t wanna be one of these skeletons. I wanna live.”

The other him pulls back slowly, his hands dropping from the collar of Steve’s jacket finally, looking towards the two and back to him once more, “Then go. Just leave me here.”

“I can’t leave you here, are you kidding me?” Steve asks, frowning, “You’re-… come back with me. I don’t know what you’re going through, but maybe we can help.”

His other self shakes his head, looking back to the skeletons again and stepping over to them, “There’s no reason to be alive without-”

“Look-” Steve cuts him off and takes a deep breath before speaking again, “I don’t know who these people are, but I gotta get back home. And… and you might know this place better than me. So, I need your help. If I don’t get out of here, all of the people I care about could die. And they’re all on this side right now. I don’t know if you’d know them, but Mike and El and Dustin and Will and Jonathan and Nancy and L-”

“They’re here?”

Steve stops listing off names and nods.

“They’re on this side?”

He nods again.

His other self seems to consider it, breathing shakily and glancing around them, “Your Nancy and Jonathan are on this side? They're in the Upside Down right now?”

His Nancy and Jonathan?

Steve frowns in confusion, thrown off by the phrasing of the question, “Uh… yes?” he guesses, “They’re all here, the kids, and Hop-”

“Okay,” he says finally as he leans down to grab the clothes scattered about, quickly pulling on his pants and, though he wasn’t bad at all to look at, Steve’s a little relieved now that he doesn’t have to feel so strange while looking at the guy, “I’ll get you out.”

Steve smiles and slaps his arm the moment he finishes putting on his shirt, “That’s more like it,” he says, watching in wide silence as his other self reaches out to the skeletons, this time to sift through their pockets.

He does his best not to intrude, not to ask, instead choosing to wait silently off to the side, standing there a little awkwardly as he stares between the two skeletons. The female could be short enough to be Joyce, maybe? But the male is definitely not tall enough to be Hopper.

The jacket on him looks eerily familiar, but Steve can’t, for the life of him, place it - a lighter denim blue with tan shearling lining on the collar and on the inside - definitely not something Hopper would wear, and he’s surprised when his other self takes it off of the skeleton, carefully, doing his best not to disturb the bones, as he replaces it with his own.

Other him then pulls on the jacket and straightens his back, shifting it around to make room for his broader shoulders and Steve almost asks why the hell he’d wear it in the first place. It doesn’t fit, and it’s absolutely atrocious, Steve wouldn’t be caught dead in it.

But it’s not really any of his business, so Steve continues to watch in silence as he takes something shiny and metal from the guy’s pocket (though he doesn’t get a good look at it), a gun and a box of ammo from the woman, as well as a necklace that he puts on himself, and what appears to be their wallets and keys, which he stuffs into his ‘new’ jacket pockets.

Steve’s about to come back in, to remind his other self that they probably shouldn’t be lingering around here in case the Mind Flayer comes down here or… or something else does, when he finally clears his throat and blinks his eyes rapidly, looking over to Steve once more.

“My-” he starts to say and then he turns, quickly pocketing the last of the things he took, and he walks off down along the wall, head down, looking along the ground.

Steve follows after him again, not sure where he’s going this time until he squats down and pulls something up from one of the few corners of the room.

It’s a nail bat.

His nail bat, but not his because Steve definitely left his back in the car like an idiot.

“That’s better,” other him says as he swings it around a few times, testing it before turning back to look at him, “You wouldn’t happen to be good with a glock, would you?”

Steve frowns and shakes his head cluelessly, “Uh, no? What’s a glock?”

“A gun,” his other self says and chuckles, “Nevermind, I figured it was a long shot, but I had to ask, just in case. I’ve never been a fan of them myself. Suppose you’re good with the bat, too, huh?”

Steve nods.

“But you don’t have yours?”

“Unfortunately, that’s a ‘no’.”

Other him nods a few times, taking him in and then holding his bat at the ready, “Stay behind me, stay close, move fast, got it?”

“Got it,” he agrees, and then they head back off the way he came from.

His other self motions to these strange-looking holes on the wall (or, stranger-looking, stranger-looking than the pods), “You come from any of these?”

“Uh… one of them… I definitely think I came from one of them, but I couldn’t tell you which one,” he admits.

“You don’t know?”

Steve shakes his head, “Nah, it all happened pretty fast. I don’t think I could even guess if I tried. We were in that… field out by the station and the Mind Flayer just-”

“This one, then,” other Steve says and points to one of them, “This one heads out to the station. Make sure to plant your feet using the tips of your shoes to really dig in, otherwise you’re going right back down the shoot.”

He goes in first and Steve glances back around the creepy cavern before following after him.

“So,” he starts as he climbs carefully, his surroundings loose enough to maneuver, but still so tight it feels like it’s squeezing around him at times, “What… uh, what… happened?”

He hears his own chuckle from somewhere above, skin tingling as he grabs onto the hanging vines in the cramped hole and hoists himself around an upward curve.

“We lost.”

Steve feels his insides flip, a cold fear washing over him. Just thinking about it fills him with a kind of foreign dread, because he’s never lost hope so much that he’s even considered it a possibility, “You lost?”

“Mind Flayer killed Eleven in the fight in Starcourt Mall,” his other self grunts out as he climbs, “Did you ever work there?”

“At the Scoops,” he confirms, “We actually won that fight. The only person that died was Max’s step-brother, and, kinda, temporarily, Hopper.”

Other him makes a sound, silent for a moment before speaking again, “Yeah, well, we didn’t have that much luck. After that, there was nothing to stop it. We ran. We tried to regroup, and while we were doing that, the Mind Flayer was only getting stronger.”

Steve can’t even wrap his head around it. He can’t imagine losing, they’ve done so good so far, too.

“Took us a while to have the strength at all to try and fight again, but… by then, it was too late,” other him says, “My world hasn’t been the same. We tried to come here, to the source, hoping that if we snuffed it out on this side, we could make some headway back home.”

“You got caught.”

“Multiple times,” other him says, chuckling again, “But we always got away.”

Steve stays quiet, the tips of his toes starting to ache, but he continues to dig them in as he climbs, feeling the burn spreading in his thighs as he lifts and hoists himself upward.

“They got Hopper, made Joyce a host,” his other self finally says after another long silence, “I thought I was pretty good at handling the grief up until that point, but… Hopper was such a badass, losing him… and Joyce was… she was like a mom to me, you know? You can’t imagine what it’s like losing her, trust me, you don’t want to. We all kinda started losing hope. And, after that, it wasn’t so much about taking down the Mind Flayer as it was about surviving. We were stuck here… I’m talking years.”

“Shit,” he mutters.

“In the end, it was just me, Nancy, Jonathan, and the gang of misfits.”

Apart from being breathless and hoarse, the next part comes out low and pensieve, like he’s thinking about it while talking, and like he doesn’t want to say it in the first place, probably because he doesn’t want to admit it.

“We didn’t go down easy,” other him says, sounding a little proud, but it’s bittersweet, “We were dragged down into that cavern and strung up on the wall like human Christmas lights. Nancy got out first. She got me, she got Jonathan, but before she could get the others, we were attacked again. It was a back and forth like that for a while. We all almost got out one time, but I…”

He grunts from overhead, his movements slowing.

“I got caught. Nancy came back for me, she got caught. We all almost got out again but we got split up and Nancy and Jonathan got caught. It all went downhill after that. I don’t… everything happened so fast, and in flashes, and-... eventually it was just me.”

Just him.

God.

What a nightmare.

“Last time I got out-” he starts, then gasps, “There we go!”

Steve’s about to ask what he’s talking about when he sees the light (if it can really be called that) spilling down onto his arms, his legs. He looks up and watches his other self climb out before turning around and reaching down to help him. He takes his own hand, feet dropping from the side as he’s pulled up and out.

Their knees touch, eyes meeting and Steve loses what little breath he has in his lungs now that he has a chance to see this other version of him properly. His fingers itch, wanting to reach up and touch him, but-

“Steve!”

They look up together, seeing the others not too far away as they come in and then they all collectively stop when they seem to realize that he’s not alone. Nancy mutters his name a second time, sounding more unsure.

At first, he doesn’t understand why she would be confused, and then he remembers that there’s an actual other him crouched down on the ground, right there with him, quickly dropping Steve’s hand to tuck the necklace he snagged off the skeleton down under the collar of his shirt and Steve almost asks him about it - but, well, it makes sense. Steve’s never really been the kind of person to wear jewelry, it’s kind of weird.

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat, motioning over as they stand up together, “Other me, other them. Say ‘hi’ everyone.”

Dustin laughs in disbelief, the sound just on the edge of manic, “Holy shit, this is just like that one episode of Star Trek.”

Steve smirks at him and shrugs, “Wild, right? Don’t ask me how, I barely passed science back in highschool, none of this makes sense to me, and I’ve never watched Star Trek.”

A few of them, the younger ones, come in a little closer to him and his other self, tentative but curious.

“He’s cool,” Steve insists, “He was down there with a bunch of people put on these weird mouth-grabbing things. Trust me, he’s legit.”

Other him chuckles nervously, glancing towards Nancy and Jonathan still standing further back, and Steve can see the apprehension on his face, “Yeah, speaking of which, I should probably get back to that. I got you out, right? You’re safe with them and you can-”

Steve grabs his arm when he starts to back away, “Hell no. No, fuck that. Come back with me instead. Come back to Hawkins.”

His other self looks at him skeptically, glancing between him and the others, “Yeah, I don’t know about that, man, this isn’t really my place, is it? I don’t know if-”

“Well I do,” Steve challenges him, speaking a little lower to the point where it’s just them in the conversation, the others watching with matching expressions of bewilderment, “Two me’s? How many times have you wished you could be in two places at once? Come on, come with us.”

Steve lifts his brows, watching his other self consider it and then Steve nudges him a second time, pushing his brows even higher and widening his eyes.

He holds up two fingers and the other him laughs in realization, cheeks going red.

“Okay,” his other self says, speaking lowly as well, shaking his head and lifting his hands like he can’t believe he just agreed, “It… would be a waste not to take advantage of it while we can.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Steve says in confidence, knowing it’s the easiest thing he can use to win himself over, whatever the guy’s going through personally, it’s just too good of an opportunity to pass up. He raises his voice a little once more, just enough for the others to be part of the conversation again, “So you’ll stay, you’ll help us beat this bastard?”

Other him’s eyes narrow and he nods stiffly, “Until my last breath,” again he glances towards Jonathan and the others, but he doesn’t say anymore about it.

“Awesome,” Will says, “We can use any help we can get.”

“Where’s your party?”

Steve winces at the question and meets Dustin’s eyes, making a neck-cutting motion with his hand, “Ixnay on the arty-pay.”

“Oh,” Dustin nods in understanding, “Roger that.”

“Lucky you got out,” Max tells his other self and Steve thinks he’s inclined to disagree on behalf of everything he knows his other self went through (on behalf of himself, he’s stoked), but he just nods quietly in agreement and leaves it at that.

“Mind Flayer?” Steve asks suddenly, when he remembers that there was a reason they were running in the first place.

“We were just talking about that,” Nancy finally speaks up as she looks to Jonathan and El, “Our best guess is it didn’t want to fight Eleven when it realized that was where you were headed. It saw her and just-”

Jonathan cuts in over her, “Well it dropped you down the hole and was coming in for us, but… then it just stopped.”

“Vanished,” Eleven tells them, “In thin air.”

Steve nods a few times, “We should get back,” he suggests, eyeing the overgrowth around them and what it could be hiding. He hadn’t seen anything below, and it’s been a while since they’ve come across another Demogorgon, but who knows what’s watching, listening, waiting for an opportunity.

“Nice jacket, by the way,” Jonathan says, motioning to his other self as everyone turns as a group to head off towards the gate, joining closer together.

Steve watches as his other self looks down at himself, mindlessly touching the denim that comes up way too short on his waist and even shorter on his forearms and then he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. And then he… he winks at Jonathan. It’s the weirdest… thing… Steve’s ever seen before.

“Oh?” he asks in this teasing, flirting tone, “You like it? It’s all the rage here.”

What…?

Steve doesn’t know how to take it, but he knows he doesn’t like it. Whatever the hell just happened, he doesn’t like it one bit.

The kids start talking amongst themselves about picking back up on some campaign when they get back as Steve stews silently, shoving his hands in his pockets, desperate to get a move-on before it can get any worse.

“Nance,” his other self says suddenly and they all stop walking to look at him, Steve included, everyone going dead silent.

It’s been like a good year or two since the last time Steve called her that, and hearing it makes his stomach clench and his hands tingle with pain, but he doesn’t point it out - though the dead silence in the group following the outburst might speak volumes for itself, but his other self doesn’t seem nervous or regretful of his own choice of name.

Nancy’s big blue eyes turn to them and she smiles shyly, stepping closer to him, “Yes?”

Steve can’t take his eyes off of her, the way she looks up at him, the flush to her cheeks, the fondness in how she observes him. It’s… weird. He feels weirdly jealous of himself. He doesn’t know why she’d look this version of him any differently than she does him, but… it’s different… isn’t it?

Other him takes the gun from his pocket and the little box of bullets, reaching out with his right hand to wrap his fingers around her wrist and pull her arm towards him, palm up, “You should take this,” he says as he places the box in her hand first, then he offers her the gun.

Her eyes light up in wonder as she looks down at it, muttering a soft little, “Oh,” as she takes it from him and tests it, checking it out, “I don’t know how to-”

He then quickly shows her how to load it, pointing out the safety and something else that Steve doesn’t understand, misses the word, but it looks complicated (he’s never been a fan of guns), answering her questioning gaze with this ridiculously charming smile of his, “I’ve seen my Nance do it a few times. She loved this gun.”

Wait, but he got that gun from-

Steve’s brows narrow and then he feels this sudden weight drop onto his shoulders when he realizes what his other self is saying.

Two skeletons, similar sizes, but the smaller one was about as short as Joyce.

Steve looks at Nancy, stomach churning sickly as he glances to her jaw, thinking back on all of the times he would kiss her, how he’d touched her jaw, how it was similar to how his other self had touched her jaw - the skeleton’s. How completely devastated he was when he cried at her feet.

And he had taken the gun from her pocket.

His eyes go to her necklace, then his head snaps to the one around his other self’s neck, tucked under his shirt but with the dainty gold chain poking out just enough to see. The same fucking necklace, it’s the same necklace - the same little oval-shaped opal hanging on the end.

Oh. God.

Of course she wasn’t just some unknown to him, what an idiot he was to assume he wouldn’t be able to venture a guess as to who the hell the two were. If Steve existed somewhere else, it only makes sense that Nancy did as well. His Nancy.

Shit.

And Steve had just told him… what? “Walk it off and get me out of here?” Leave behind the decayed corpse of the woman you love and help me escape? Come over to my Hawkins so we can see what it’s like swapping spit with another one of ourself while you’re… grieving over the sudden, unexpected death of one of the most important fucking people in the world to you? God he loved her-

He wanted to apologize, but doing so might end up revealing too much around her and Jonathan that he’d really rather keep to himself for the rest of his life, if he can manage at least that.

Nancy finishes by loading the gun herself and turning the safety on, testing it by aiming over his shoulder in the distance and Steve watches him smile this weak, sad smile that wobbles on the edges. Fuck. He’s right, too right. He doesn’t want to be right, not about this.

“It feels nice, light,” she says as she tests it in her hands, then smiles up at him, “Thanks, handsome.”

Steve feels his blood boil, his teeth grit together and his throat close up, about to snap back when his other self shoulders his nail bat and shrugs, “Yeah she snagged it off some fed a while before uh… before the end,” he says vaguely, glancing towards Steve finally and winking, “Let’s get the hell out of here already.”

Steve can’t agree more.

And not a moment too soon, from the looks of it. Almost the second the words leave his mouth, there’s a loud clap of thunder and they all look upward, other him muttering something low and Eleven seems to agree when she says: “Dangerous.”

This first 5k is also up on AO3. For full releases at once, you can go here. Otherwise, I post semi-sporadically here and on AO3.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

When the apocalypse happened, it was just a random Wednesday.

Well, it was for Eddie.

For the kids, it wasn't that random and it was a long time coming sort of thing.

"We've been dealing with this kind of shit for a while," Dustin had told him nonchalantly as he handed a bottle, ready to be set on fire, over to Lucas, who settled it in a box of other weaponry. "It's like, our yearly bonding activity."

"You've been fighting zombies for years?!" Eddie had said. "But you're toddlers!"

"First of all, shut the fuck up," Max glared at him before sniffing. "They weren't - always zombies."

"What does that mean?"

"We were trying to take down the lab," Lucas sighed, patting the side of the box. "They did some freaky shit in there and we wanted to stop them."

"It went wrong." Will continued, and Eddie's neck was aching so bad from all the spinning his head was doing. "They released some kind of neuro-agent and we..."

"We had to leave." Dustin said blankly. Eddie peered down at him, watching the slightest tremble of his lip before he rubbed the bridge of his nose and continued preparing the cocktails. "But we're gonna fix it."

To this day, Eddie has a feeling that the "it" isn't really about the zombies somehow.

"Ready?" Jonathan nods and Eddie nods back.

Everyone else is in the garage with them while they get ready for the supply run.

Lucas was the one to encourage them to come up with quick-time strategies, something about using them back when he played basketball but Eddie distinctly remembers him not joining the team so he has no idea what he's talking about.

Dustin sits with him over their blueprints, arguing about codenames and extraction points, sometimes tapping at the shiny watch he never takes off.

Nancy Wheeler, blessed badass that she is, is polishing off a freshly-sawed gun, her eyes glancing over to Jonathan every other second like he's going to just disappear if she doesn't.

Mike sits with Will and the girl-from-out-of-town, Elle, weirdly quiet as the other two talk through some other strategy blueprints that Lucas handed to them.

Joyce, Hopper, the weird Murray guy, they're all having some sort of group huddle in the back, glancing over with fake-smiles (Joyce's is the most believeable one) once Eddie starts the car.

Through the window, he can see Robin, as stern and as ever, right beside a blank-faced Max, her hand tightening its grip on her axe. He wonders what Robin sees, when they have to go out into the desolation. When her normally tired eyes become fierce and her numb tone becomes snarling.

How many years have they had to face this shit?

Why, whenever they gather round in any place, no matter how small, is there always an empty space between Robin and Dustin?

What happened to these people?

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

What if Nancy slapped Jonathan?

Summary: When Nancy actually allows herself to be angry about Jonathan's pictures, she realizes that she doesn't regret sleeping with Steve and that there was more to Steve than she realized. Jonathan realizes his mistake and friendships begin to form. Long fic, one shot.

A cold, numbing feeling came over Nancy as she looked at the pictures. The worst fear of people somehow knowing came true and in the worst possible way. It wasn't that she was ashamed that she slept with Steve. It was the more that it was an intimate moment that she trusted Steve with, that she enjoyed knowing that it was just between them. Sure, there was a part of her that wanted to gush about it and talk about it. . .yes, but with her friends. . .with Barb. God, maybe it was her fault. She should have closed the blinds. . .pulled the curtains. . . Something. All she could think about was Steve.

No. No, it wasn't her fault. Steve wanted her there, invited her there. It was an intimate party between friends. Jonathan had found his way over there, crept in the bushes, and took her picture. He took Tommy, Carol, and Steve's pictures without their permission. They didn't know someone was watching them. Nancy could understand Carol's disgust. She was disgusted herself and quite, frankly, angry. Suddenly, she felt her hand moving on its own, and there came a loud slapping sound as her hand came in contact with Jonathan's face.

"What the hell, Jonathan?" Nancy asked.

"Damn," Carol whistled. "Didn't know she had it in her."

"Why?" Nancy asked.

"I was looking for Will," Jonathan said, clutching his cheek.

"I would believe that if the pictures didn't prove otherwise. You stopped the moment you took pictures of us in the pool. How long did it take for us to get from the pool to inside the house to me getting inside Steve’s bedroom? A few minutes, give or take, long enough for you to realize that you stopped looking for Will," Nancy snapped. "Why?"

"I just saw - I just saw someone trying to be someone they're not," Jonathan said. "I thought it was a good picture."

"That's bullshit!" Nancy exclaimed. "So, what? Because I wear sweaters buttoned up to my neck, I study hard, and I like nerdy things that I can't possibly be human and want to have sex with Steve Harrington?"

"It just didn't seem that way to me," Jonathan said, his eyes downcast.

"Just because I was nervous doesn't mean that I still didn't want to go through with it," Nancy snapped. "By the way, I've noticed that you still haven't apologized."

"I, uh," Jonathan started to speak.

"Save it. Saying it now, I know you're not going to mean it. The embarrassment you're feeling at having been caught is how I feel about having been caught, except the major difference here is that I have nothing to apologize for. I will never apologize for sleeping with Steve. It was my choice, my decision and it's something that I'm never going to regret. Your interpretation of me is dead wrong. For the first time, I was doing something that I wanted to do and not what was expected of me. Steve is who I wanted, I liked him not because every other girl in the school did but because I did. I like him. I'm sorry that your brother is missing, I truly am, but it doesn't excuse what you did and I hope that when he does come back that he never finds out about you using him as excuse," Nancy said it all with clenched fists and tears filling her eyes.

"She is ripping him a new one," Tommy cackled.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. Steve was looking at her with genuine concern in his eyes, and she felt her anger melt away. Steve kissed her gently on the forehead and went to hand Jonathan his camera back. Jonathan went to reach for, but at the last second, Steve let it drop to the ground. Nancy felt a brief satisfaction for a moment when she heard the camera break and even more so when Steve tore up the pictures, letting them fall to the ground in front of Jonathan as he knelt to retrieve his camera. Nancy quickly picked up the pieces and stuffed them in her bag before Jonathan could get to them.

"Don't want him gluing them back together," Nancy explained to Steve.

"Smart," Steve muttered.

"Jonathan," Nancy said softly, and he looked up. "I think that maybe you need to step out from behind the camera every once in a while and remember that there is more to people than what you think pictures are saying to you. It's just something to think about."

As they walked off, Nancy wrapped her arm around Steve's waist, squeezing him. She was grateful that she had him to lean on in this moment. She realized again that it wasn't just her privacy that Jonathan had violated, but Steve’s as well. Nancy stopped him when they were out of earshot of Jonathan.

"Steve. . .do you mind if we get out of here? I mean, I know you wanted to watch the game, but I'm feeling kind of overwhelmed," Nancy said.

"Of course, I'm a little on edge myself. Was the camera thing too much?" Steve asked.

"No. He deserved it," Nancy said. "Was the slapping thing too much?"

"No, he definitely deserved it," Steve said and paused. "Did you really mean when you said that you don't regret what happened?"

"Yes, I like you, Steve," Nancy said. "I want you."

"I want you too," he said softly.

Nancy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. She stood back and stared at him before frowning.

"I want to go back to your house and look for Barb," Nancy said. "I think something might have happened. I don't think she went home last night, and she definitely didn't come to school today."

"Okay. Do we - should we call the police?" Steve asked, rubbing her shoulders.

"Maybe we should check out your place first," Nancy replied, slipping her hand into his.

"Hey, Tommy, Carol. . . We're going to get out of here," Steve said.

"Oooh," Carol laughed.

"Have fun," Tommy said wiggling his eyebrows.

Steve flipped him off before walking off with Nancy to his car.

"I'm glad you're coming with me. I'm not sure that I'd want to do this alone," Nancy said.

"It's no problem," Steve said softly.

"I was right," Nancy said, leaning against the door. "There is more to you than what people say there is."

"Is that a good thing?" Steve asked.

"Definitely," Nancy said.

"Right back at ya, Nancy Wheeler," he replied.

When they drove to Steve’s house, they discovered that Barb's car was still there. Holding hands, they began searching the woods behind the house. Nancy and Steve moved through the woods, crunching sounds breaking the silence as they walked on the leaves. They could clearly hear the wind whistling through the branches, but they nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard larger rustling sounds as though someone or something was moving with them. Whatever it was, it was moving rather quickly.

"Barb?!" Nancy called out. "Barb?!"

"Barb?!" Steve called out, whirling around with Nancy.

Suddenly, there came a growling sound, and they watched a blurry figure dart through the trees. Nancy stumbled back into Steve’s arms.

"Did you see that?" Nancy asked.

"Did he - did he not have a face?" Steve whispered.

They heard another growling sound, and Steve was grabbing Nancy's hand again. They both took off at the same time, running straight towards Steve’s car. They jumped in, and Steve didn't waste any time driving away from the house. Once they deemed it a safe distance, Steve pulled off to the side to calm himself down. . .to calm both of them down.

"He was wearing a mask, right?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know," Steve said.

"What if something really bad happened to her, Steve?" Nancy asked. "What if she's - ,"

"I want to be positive here, Nancy, I really do, but I don't know," Steve said softly. "I really hope not."

Nancy reached over and hugged him, letting him know that she appreciated his honesty. The drive back to her house was silent, but Steve kept a comforting hand on her knee the entire time. He didn't hesitate to follow her into her home either. He must be as scared as she was. As soon as she walked into the kitchen with Steve’s supportive hand on her shoulder and when she saw her mom, the tears started to come.

"You're home early. How was the game? Who is - Nancy, what's the matter?" Karen asked.

"It's Barb. I think. . .I think something happened," Nancy sniffled. "Something terrible."

Karen was quick to call the cops after holding a crying Nancy. Steve and Nancy both sat down with a cop for what seemed like hours. Officer Moore seemed intent on Steve being the one behind Barb's disappearance, which Nancy was quick to rectify that he couldn't have done anything because he was too busy sleeping with her.

"I swear I was respectful. I made sure she knew it was her choice and everything. I was a complete gentleman. I really like Nancy," Steve had said quickly to her parents.

If it was under any other circumstance, Nancy would have laughed. Luckily, Karen seemed to believe Steve. Maybe it was the fact that Steve didn't want to leave her side during all of this when he had plenty of chances to. Night had fallen when Mike had come into the house suddenly, sobbing. They had found Will. The hope for Barb coming back alive dwindled inside of Nancy. When the cop finally left, Steve stood awkwardly in the kitchen, leaving Nancy to have time with her family, which is where Nancy and Karen later found him.

"I talked mom into letting you stay the night," Nancy said.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Steve said, scratching the back of his neck.

"No, Nancy's right. I wouldn't feel good at all sending you back to that empty house without your parents," Karen said, frowning. "Of course, Nancy twisted my arm into letting you stay in her room. She said she was just going to sneak you up there anyway."

"She's so determined," Steve said fondly, and Karen's eyes twinkled for a moment.

"I just don't understand why Mike wouldn't let us put you in the basement," Ted said as he entered the kitchen with Mike.

"Maybe he's keeping a girl down there," Steve said, causing Ted to laugh, and Mike's eyes widened.

"Not that Mike can't get a girl," Nancy said, smirking. "But I doubt he'd risk mom and dad selling his collectibles if he did that behind their backs."

"I mean, she's not wrong," Mike said, rolling his eyes as they laughed.

Later that night, Karen was saying goodnight to Steve and Nancy when Ted came in with an armful of pillows. He started putting them in between Nancy and Steve like a wall.

"Do you think you left enough pillows for the rest of the house, Ted?" Karen asked with a sigh. "I think you missed the ones in the living room."

"Oh, hold on," Ted said and came back with two more, placing them on Nancy's bed.

"I'm so sorry," Karen said.

"No problem, I think Mr. Wheeler's hilarious," Steve said with an honest grin.

"Hm. I think I'm starting to like you. Might have to resend my earlier statement," Ted said. "Goodnight."

Steve turned on his side as soon as they left, leaving the door cracked. He peered over the pillows at Nancy.

"I'm going to need a grappling hook to get over to you," Steve said in amusement.

"It's actually kind of comfortable," Nancy said.

"Yeah. . .wait, what statement did your dad make?" Steve asked.

"Don't worry about it, Steve," Nancy said and kissed him. "Thank you for being here with me."

"Thank you for letting me stay," Steve said softly, and there was a long pause between them.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Was Tommy telling the truth when he said that your mom follows your dad around to make sure that he doesn't fool around?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, we walked in on him a few times," Steve said.

"I'm sorry. . .how often do they leave you alone?" Nancy asked.

"Too often," Steve admitted.

"Well, you're not alone now," Nancy said.

"Neither are you," Steve said gratefully and kissed her knuckles.

"Goodnight."

"Nighty-night."

The next morning, Steve ate breakfast with the Wheelers and helped Karen clean up before leaving the house with Nancy early so he could go to his house to change. Steve and Nancy stared at his house with trepidation.

"You know, any other day, I would be more worried about my asshole of a father and the fact that we had a party and we drank beer. It's crazy how small that seems now," Steve said.

"Yeah, it was just the other that Barb and I were shopping for a sweater that you might like," Nancy said. "So, I get it."

"We're going to figure it out," Steve said. "Somehow. . . Purple, by the way."

"What?"

"I think you look really good in light purple," Steve said. "You seem happier when you wear it. I don't know."

"It's my favorite color," she said and then paused. "You look good in blue."

If he chose a blue polo because of what she said, Nancy didn't comment on it, but she smiled, and for a moment, she wasn't worried. Well, not until she was called out of class to be questioned by the police again. She met Steve out by the gym to go over what the cops talked with them about, which was basically what they asked them last night. Nancy was glad that they were both peeved about them focusing on the wrong thing here. Who cares if Nancy and Steve had sex?

"It's all everyone seems to care about with me," Steve frowned. "Don't the cops have anything better to do? Oh, yes, looking for Barb."

"I'm not saying they're still not wrong about that, but to be fair, nothing like this has ever happened in Hawkins," Nancy sighed. "Something else is bothering you."

"It's nothing," Steve said. "It's nothing important."

"It's important enough to upset you. Tell me. Besides, I can't possibly decide what to do next. It might help me to think about something else," Nancy replied.

He was leaning against the wall, his legs spread out before him. Nancy stepped in between his legs, holding onto him tightly.

"I got into a fight with Tommy and Carol. Apparently, they got into their heads that you're stealing me away from them," Steve replied.

"You make it sound like you're with them or something," Nancy snorted.

"Well. . .I mean, it wasn't very serious. They made it very clear from the beginning, and I wanted a serious relationship," Steve shrugged.

"Oh. . .um, thank you for telling me," Nancy said.

"I trust you," Steve said.

"I trust you too," Nancy replied.

"Anyway, they said some really shitty things about you and then about Barb. I had to walk away," Steve said. "I'm done with them. I mean, not just for you but for me too."

"Mom said you're welcome to stay another night if your parents aren't back yet," Nancy said.

"This whole thing feels weird. . .I mean, you know what I mean, I think," Steve said.

"It's all weird, but I think Mom appreciates your help this morning," Nancy said. "And we all especially appreciate how nice you were to Mike this morning."

"Well, he's a good egg," Steve said.

"He's an asshole but yeah," Nancy said with a smile. "She also told me that you got up early this morning and had tea with Holly."

"She said she wouldn't say anything," Steve groaned.

"Come on, Princess, let's go get you some clothes," Nancy said in amusement.

After grabbing some clothes for Steve, they went back to her house. She spilled the contents of her bag to clean it out when the pieces of the torn up photograph also spilled out.

"Are those the pictures?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I forgot about them," she said, frowning as she looked at them. "Steve. . ."

"Is that. . .?"

"The faceless man. Steve, what if whoever this is also did something to Will?" Nancy asked. "What if Will really didn't drown in the quarry?"

"Should we tell Jonathan?" Steve asked.

"I know neither one of us wants to see him, but he should know," Nancy said.

"Yeah. . .do you think someone's trying to cover this up. . .whatever this is?" Steve asked.

"Possibly," Nancy said. "Let's go."

After talking with Joyce briefly, Nancy and Steve found Jonathan at the funeral home picking out caskets. They hesitated for a moment before going in. Jonathan sighed before walking over to them. Nancy and Steve led Jonathan out of the room.

"It looks like it could be some sort of perspective distortion," Jonathan said when they showed him the picture. "But I wasn't using the wide angle. I don't know."

"Are you sure you didn't see anyone else out there?" Steve asked.

"No," Jonathan said. "And she was there was one second and then, um. . . Gone. I figured she bolted."

"The cops think she ran away, but they don't know Barb," Nancy said. "We went back to Steve’s place, and we thought we saw something. . ."

"Some weird man," Steve said. "Or. . ."

"We don't know what we saw," Nancy said, pausing as she realized where they were. "I'm sorry . . . We shouldn't have come here today, sorry."

"What he'd look like?" Jonathan asked.

"What?" Steve asked.

"The man you saw in the woods. What did he look like?" He asked.

"I don't know. It was almost like he didn't have . . . ," Nancy trailed off.

"Like he didn't have a face?" Jonathan asked.

"How do you know that?" Steve asked.

It was awkward, waiting for Jonathan to enlarge the photo. They could all feel the tension in the air.

"Have you been doing this awhile?" Nancy asked. "Photography?"

"Yeah. I guess I'd rather observe people than you know. . .," Jonathan said and paused. "You're right, though. I think I hid behind the camera too long and forgot for a moment that the people in the picture were real. . . Alive. I used that to distance myself from because it was easier to pretend they they were someone else, something else than admit that they could hurt me just like my dad. I tried so hard not to be like him that I - that I ended up doing something that he would have done. And he was never sorry for anything that he did or the hurt that he caused. I don't want to be like my dad. I am sorry, I really am."

Nancy smiled gratefully, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"I get the whole not wanting to be like your dad thing. I don't want to be like my dad either," Steve said.

"You have an asshole for a father, too?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Steve replied.

There was a look of understanding between them all for a moment, and they could breathe a little better. Jonathan gazed at Steve as though he were trying to figure him out.

"You know, I really wanted you to be an asshole," Jonathan said.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Steve said.

"Don't be," Jonathan said.

When the photo was done, they got a better look at the figure behind Barb.

"My mom. . .," Jonathan gasped. "I thought she was crazy. She said that it wasn't Will's body, that he was still alive. And if he's alive. . . "

"Barbara," Steve and Nancy said.

Steve had to go home again to pick out a suit for "Will's funeral" with promises to meet Nancy and her family there. Despite the fact that they knew Will wasn't really dead, there might be hope for Barb, too. It was all still tragic. Steve let Nancy hold on his hand as tightly as she could.

"You didn't have to be here, you know," Nancy whispered.

"I wanted to," Steve whispered back and squeezed her hand.

Steve and Nancy met up with Jonathan after the funeral to calculate where the creature was going. Once they determined that it wasn't traveling far, Nancy decided that she wanted to go out and look for the monster.

"Yeah, no, that's crazy!" Steve exclaimed. "I mean, what are we going to do when we find it?"

"Kill it," Nancy said. "You don't have to come with us."

"And let you get all the glory?" Steve sighed and then said with a soft voice, "You can't get rid of me that easily. Let's kill this son of a bitch!"

Later, they went to Nancy's house to change out of their clothes and started looking around the house for weapons. She found an old baseball bat of hers from when she played softball.

"You know what would look great and add maximum damage?" Steve asked. "Nails."

Nancy chuckled and pinched his cheek fondly. They eventually headed toward the field where Jonathan told them to meet and found him, practicing how to shoot. He was rather bad it. Steve and Nancy teased him mercilessly.

"You ever shot a gun before?" Jonathan asked.

"Have you met my parents?" Nancy scoffed.

"I promised myself that I would never do it again," Steve said firmly.

"Yeah, I haven't shot one since I was ten," Jonathan said. "My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man. I cried for a week."

"Don't sweat it, Byers. My dad took me hunting once, but I'm pretty sure it was only to impress a client. Anyway, he tried to get me to kill a baby deer, but I didn't want to do it. He tried to force me to do it. The gun went off. So, that's how I shot my father in the foot. I swore I would never shoot a gun again. My dad didn't try to force me to do it again either. It certainly gave him another reason to hate me, though," Steve shrugged.

"Okay, both of your dads are major assholes," Nancy said with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I guess my mom and dad loved each other at some point," Jonathan said as she showed Nancy how to shoot. "But I wasn't around for that part. Uh, just point and shoot."

"I don't think my parents ever loved each other," Nancy revealed.

"Your parents must have married for some reason," Jonathan said.

"Pretty sure mine got married because of me," Steve muttered.

"My mom was young. My dad had a cushy job and came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac, and they started their nuclear family," Nancy said.

"Screw that," Jonathan said.

"Yeah. Screw that," Nancy said. "Not that I never want to get married."

"You just don't want to end up up in a loveless marriage," Jonathan said.

"Exactly."

"Never really believed in the whole nuclear family thing but a family. . .yeah, I think it's nice. You know, when I was younger, I dreamed of having a big family. It's silly. . . I'm talking about a full brood of Harringtons. I figured we all packed into an RV and traveled to like the Rockies, the Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. We'd end up in some beachside town in California. Learn how to surf or something. I don't know, whenever my parents left me on my own, it made me feel less alone," Steve said. "And I always thought that I would adopt, you know. Give kids a loving home."

"That actually sounds nice," Nancy said.

"Yeah," Jonathan said. "You really want to adopt?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I always wanted to have a little brother or sister, but my mom always told me she doesn't like kids whenever I asked."

"Well, you're more than welcome to have mine," Nancy said.

"Wow. It's a little early in the relationship to be asking me to join your family, Nance," Steve asked, and Jonathan snorted.

"I wasn't - " Nancy sighed and rolled her eyes, smiling. "Asshole."

"She didn't even ask you first. No wining or dining," Jonathan said.

"Not even flowers," Steve said.

"Alright, can you guys go back to not liking each other?" Nancy asked.

"Nah," Steve and Jonathan said.

Once they got done practicing, they headed towards Steve’s as night started to fall. They moved through the woods, with everyone on edge. Nancy stopped suddenly.

"What? Are you tired?" Jonathan asked.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed.

That's when Steve and Jonathan heard it. A whimpering noise. The guys followed Nancy, and they came upon a wounded deer.

"Oh God, it's been hit by a car," Nancy said.

"In the middle of the woods?" Steve asked, incredulous, and Nancy gave him a look. "Sorry."

"We can't just leave it," she said softly.

"I'll take care of it," Jonathan said, holding out his gun.

"What about - ?"

"I'm not nine anymore," Jonathan replied.

Just as Jonathan was about to shoot, the deer got pulled away by something. To Jonathan and Steve's surprise, Nancy chased after the deer. Suddenly, she disappeared, and they couldn't find her until they followed the sound of her voice, along with the sound of something growling. They pulled her out of a tree, the both of them holding her tightly as the odd, squelching door closed, leaving behind no sign that something odd had happened. Nancy insisted that Jonathan go home and be with his mom, that he should meet up with them at her house the next morning. Steve brought her home, and she sat on the edge of the bed. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

"Tell me what you need," Steve said softly.

"I need to take a shower," Nancy said.

"Okay," Steve said.

"Can you - can you come with me?" Nancy asked. "Not to do anything but can you - can you hold me?"

"Of course," he replied.

Underneath the spray of the water, Nancy curled up in Steve's arms and cried. It was a different kind of intimacy, a lot more intimate, even more than them having sex. Not only was Nancy naked physically, but she was also exposed to Steve emotionally. Trusting him with the trauma of what just happened to her, trusting that he's there, and that he wants to be there.

"I'm here," he whispered as they clung to each other.

After showering, they crawled into bed and held onto each other tightly. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep, but it was restless for both of them. When they left the house that morning, Jonathan was waiting for them. They talked about what happened, and they all came to the possibility that Will and Barbara might be trapped in the place that Nancy was dragged into.

"We have to find it again," Nancy said.

"You want to go back out there?" Steve asked.

"When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer," Nancy said.

"Meaning he's a predator. Right?" Jonathan asked.

"Right," Nancy said. "And it seems to hunt at night like a lion or a coyote. But it doesn't seem to hunt in packs like them. It's always alone. . ."

"Like a bear," Jonathan said.

"And remember, at Steve's, when Barb cut herself?" Nancy asked.

"And then, last night, the deer. . .," Jonathan said.

"It was bleeding too," Nancy said.

"Sharks can detect blood in one per million. That's one drop of blood in a million, and they can smell it from a quarter of a mile away," Steve said, snapping his fingers, and they looked at him. "What? I like sharks."

"Steve, are you a nerd?" Nancy asked.

"What? No, of course not. Not that it's a bad thing," Steve said, and they continued to look at him. "Okay, fine. Hi, I'm Steve Harrington and I'm a closeted dork."

"Well, admitting it is the first step," Jonathan said he laughed with Nancy.

"Anyway, it's just a theory," Nancy said. "But we can test it."

Testing it, of course, required weapons and ammunition, which meant going to the army supply store. Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy, especially when they discovered that Tommy and Carol had called Nancy a slut on the theater in spray paint for all of Hawkins to see. They found them in an alleyway with Nicole and her meathead of a boyfriend, Andy. Heated words were exchanged with Tommy calling Nancy every name in the book and then turning on Jonathan. Nancy ended up slapping Tommy, and just as she went to do it again, Andy grabbed her arm. That caused Jonathan and Steve to snap. They started swinging until the cops came, but Jonathan stopped too late and ended up hitting one of the cops. Now, they were all sitting in the police station, Jonathan, and Steve handcuffed together. Nancy was putting ice on their wounds when Joyce and Hopper came into the station.

"What happened?" Joyce asked. "Jonathan?"

"I'm fine," He replied.

"Your son assaulted a police offer, ma'am," Officer Callahan said.

"It was an accident," Steve protested.

"Yeah, was it an accident when you were beating up those two other boys in the alley?" He asked.

"Nicole's asshole of a boyfriend put his hands on Nancy!" Steve exclaimed.

"Alright!" Hopper exclaimed and turned to Nancy. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Steve’s face is worse."

"Take them off," Joyce said. "Take them off!"

"You heard her, take them off," Hopper said.

"Chief, I get that everyone's emotional here, but there's something that you need to see," Officer Callahan said.

When they showed Hopper the things that were in the back of Jonathan's car, they had no choice but to tell Hopper and Joyce the truth about the monster. And then Mike's bully, Troy, came in spouting stuff about a girl with powers who made him pee himself and the losers she hung out with. That led them to Nancy's house, where they discovered vans parked outside and a bunch of suits entering her house. Nancy gasped and went to walk over there when Hopper stopped her.

"Hey! The last thing in the world we need is them knowing that you're wrapped up in all of this," Hopper said. "They haven't found him. Not yet."

He pointed towards the helicopters, above the trees, that were searching the area.

"He's right, Nancy. I only met him once, but he seems to be as smart as his big sister. They're going to have a hard time finding him," Steve said reassuringly and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Look, we need to find them before they do. Do you have any idea of where they might be?" Hopper asked once they were back in the car.

"I don't know where he might be," Nancy said after a moment. "But I think I know how to ask him."

They managed to contact him over the radio, and after much convincing, Mike gave them their location. Hopper left them at the Byers' house while he went to the junkyard to get the kids. When they came back, night had fallen, and Nancy had burst out of the house before throwing her arms around Mike. They walked into the house, and Mike paused when he saw Steve.

"Jesus, what happened to your face?" Mike asked.

"A couple of bullies," Steve replied. "Not really important."

"And you took them on yourself?" Dustin asked.

"No, and if you should be impressed with anyone, it's Jonathan," Steve said.

"Hmm, modest," Dustin said.

"No, truthful," Steve scoffed.

"Sure," Dustin grinned. "El took out some bullies, too. Are you a superhero like her?"

"No. Nance, who the hell is this kid?" Steve asked, and she bit her lip, smiling.

After all that, they started talking about the place Nancy had been dragged down into. . .or what the kids call the Upside Down. The kids had discovered that a gate had been opened in Hawkins Lab. El tried to find Will and Barb by using her powers, but she had been too weak to do it. What they needed was a sensory deprivation tank, which required them to go to the school for the salt. Pretty soon, the deprivation pool was ready, goggles on El's face. Steve and Nancy shared a concerned look with each other for a moment, squeezing each other's hands. She searched for Barb first, calling out her name, and when El started to cry, Steve put his arm around Nancy.

"Gone. Gone. Gone! GONE!" El screamed.

Nancy pressed a hand to her mouth, sobbing. She turned and buried her face into Steve’s chest. Steve wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as she shook. Once they discovered that Will was hiding out at Castle Byers, Hopper and Joyce left to go rescue Will from the Upside Down.

"We have to go back to the station," Nancy said to Jonathan and Steve.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"Hopper and your mom are just walking in there like bait," she said. "The thing is still in there, and we just can't let it get them, too."

"You still want to try it out?" Steve asked.

"I want to finish what we started," Nancy said.

"What about the kids?" Steve asked. "Aren't those guys still after El?"

"Well, do you want to stay here?" Nancy asked.

"I mean. I also don't want to leave you and Jonathan," Steve frowned.

"Hm, you're torn. How about I help you with that? Steve, stay here. Jonathan and I've got this," Nancy said. "Keep the kids safe."

"There's one thing the cops didn't get," Jonathan said as he pulled the bat and nails out of his car. "You're going to need a weapon."

They went their separate ways with Nancy going off with Jonathan and Steve heading back into the gym with the kids. Inside, Steve put his bat together and stood ready to protect the kids with his life, which he almost did a few times. A couple of the agents shot at him, grazing his arm. Meanwhile, Nancy and Jonathan tricked the demogorgon into the trap, but eventually, it got out, heading towards the school when El killed the agents. In the classroom, the kids huddled together while Steve took on the demogorgon with his bat. He took a slash to the chest for his efforts, but it too was a graze. Finally, El came into the room, stood her ground, and sacrificed her life to protect them. Now, they were all at the hospital, waiting for Will to wake up. Nancy was sitting next to Steve after she made sure he got checked out by the doctors. Dustin was sitting on his other side, talking excitedly.

"Nancy, did you know that your boyfriend likes comic books? That he horded him under his floorboards?" Dustin asked.

"No, I didn't," Nancy said in amusement.

"Steve, do you think that you'd want to try playing Dungeons and Dragons with us?" Dustin asked.

"I don't know. Doesn't that require a lot of math? I'm not the best at it," Steve admitted.

"That's the best thing about it! We all have our own strengths and weaknesses!" Dustin said.

"I guess I'm willing to try it. . .on one condition, you have to at least give basketball a try," Steve said, and Dustin looked at him thoughtfully.

"I'm up for it," Lucas said eagerly.

"We can give it a try, but if we don't like it, we can quit, right?" Dustin asked.

"Of course," Steve replied.

"Then we have a deal," Dustin said and they shook hands.

It wasn't long after that Dustin fell asleep against Steve’s shoulder while Lucas fell asleep against him. Nancy smiled at him.

"Starting on your brood early?" She asked.

"Shh, go to sleep," Steve said and patted his other shoulder.

Pretty soon, Will woke up, and the kids were quick to gather in his room, flocking to him. Nancy and Steve stood in the doorway, smiling fondly as the kids relayed everything to him. Steve watched as the smile slipped off Nancy's face. She turned around and walked out of the room. Steve quickly followed her and found her trying to hold herself against a wall as she sobbed. He pulled her into his arms.

"I should be happy that he's back, and I suppose I am," Nancy mumbled into his shirt. "It's just that - "

"Barb should be here too," he whispered.

"It's not fair," she said weakly.

"I know," Steve said. "And when you're ready to talk about her, maybe you can tell me about her. I don't know, maybe it will help."

"Thank you," Nancy said. "For everything."

Jonathan came stumbling out of the hospital room. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry about Barb," Jonathan said softly.

"Thanks," Nancy said and smiled sincerely. "I'm really glad your brother made it home."

"Me too," he said.

"Thank you for saving my life back there," Nancy said.

"Yeah, I think that means we're all friends now," Steve said.

"What?" Jonathan asked in surprised.

"Oh, do you not want to be our friend?" Steve asked. "Hm, and to think that I was going to share my hair care products with you."

"We are friends!" Jonathan said quickly.

"I knew it! You are jealous of my hair," Steve said, and Nancy giggled. "Well, I guess I can handle Jonathan Byers being interested in me only for my hair."

"Shut up, man," Jonathan said.

Nancy smiled. Of course, she would never be okay with what he did but mixed with his sincere apology as well as the way he almost died to protect her from the demogorgon. It's funny how forgiveness can sneak up on you in the most unexpected ways, and it's strange how quickly things can change. It's nice, though, that forgiveness can make you breathe a little bit better.

[careful-wish]

I know that Eddie had to die bc plot reasons yada yada

But they could have done that in season 5. We had so many deaths deaths in 4 (tho Max did end up living). The stakes are higher in season 5 and having a beloved character die halfway through would have had such an emotional impact

But also Eddie and Argyle not being included in season 5 with the other older kids feel like a joke, especially Argyle.

Nancy is the only one of the older teens (now young adults) to have a real close friendship with someone (Barb). Could probably argue Eddie too bc of Gareth, Jeff, and that other guy in Hellfire but they're younger than him so Idk how long they've been friends or how close they actually are.

In s4, though it's through super unlikely circumstances, Eddie does develop friendships with Steve, Nancy, and Robin. Probably, he already has had some interaction with Robin and Jonathan in the past due to the fact all three were considered weirdos or freaks (Jonathan was The School Freak(tm)) but he had no interaction with Jonathan this season.

Jonathan after being apart from Nancy for a few months then meets Argyle and they become pretty close mates, weed aside. Jonathan finally has someone he can talk to and open up to, and you can tell Argyle genuinely does care for Jonathan and is a LITERAL ride-or-die for him.

Why, WHY did they take Eddie and Argyle away? Yeah, we get the monster-hunting trio back in s5 along with Robin and Vickie in the group, but why'd they take Argyle away? He is also wanted by the government and knows everything. We're just going back to Jonathan having no friends, Nancy really having to confront what happened to Barb, and only Steve having a best mate? Why does Steve get to keep his best friend and Jonathan doesn't?

Also, the group would have been a little bigger than the Party but the dynamics and just absolute chaos would have been amazing.

Steve realising he is absolutely outnumbered by nerds and that he is not the leader, that role goes to Nancy and her babygurl Jonathan.

Vickie being introduced in a group that has several very loud ppl (Steve, Argyle, Robin), joins them immediately and Jonathan goes insane bc the four chatter like kookaburras at three am.

Nancy insisting they need to be discreet and Argyle explaining that while yeah, having an all black van would be cool but bad guys have those too and they would blend in better with a pizza van bc "Who would question the pizza man, Wheeler?"

Eddie secretly having tons of respect for Jonathan and nearly falls over himself trying to make up for the fact he tried to push another guy at Jonathan's girlfriend. Also develops similar respect for Nancy and feels guilty after seeing how happy Nancy is with Jonathan, and also realising it was never his, Robin, Steve, or anyone else's decision what Nancy does or who she wants to be with, it's all her.

Vickie learning about everything but still not knowing the kids very well and fellow newcomer Argyle is like "Idk about the others but Little Byers and Wheelie-boy are good, and of course our amazing super-powered little friend"

Steve discreetly being a terrible wingman for Robin without accidentally outing her. She comes out to Nancy first, then Argyle on accident after they have a weed sesh ("You're good, Batman's sidekick, boobies are great"), and of course ends up with Vickie.

Mike being the one of the Party Vickie ends up bonding with the most, mainly so they can make fun of Steve together but also other reasons

Anyway, we were robbed of these seven chaos nerds being a group together.

And if Eddie were to die halfway through, the turmoil. Dies similar to s4, Dustin is there, but it not only affects Dustin and Hellfire, but the other six he'd started becoming close with.

[monsterhunting]

with great power | 64k, spider-man!steve au, complete

“Nancy cares about real journalism.” Steve raises his eyebrows. “And Spider-Man isn’t?” “A man in tights swinging from webs?” Jonathan deadpans. “Definitely not, no.” In which: Jonathan is the unfortunate Daily Bugle intern tasked with taking pictures of New York's new favorite superhero, Steve struggles with the trials and tribulations of maintaining a secret identity, and Nancy is just trying to do some actual goddamn investigative journalism for once.

[karadanverss]

A Chance to Fly

Words: 17649

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Will Byers, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Martin Brenner, Bob Newby (Stranger Things), Lonnie Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper

Relationship(s): Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

Tag(s): Wicked AU, AU

Summary:

Jonathan Byers has never been like his peers. In addition to being socially awkward, and odd, he was born green. If that wasn't enough, he had power like no one in the town of Ozkins has ever seen before. When he goes off to school to keep an eye on his brother and sister he makes some unlikely friends, and despite what he's expecting, he starts to see a real future for himself in Ozkins. Unfortunately, nothing is quite what it seems and it isn't long before Jonathan isn't quite sure what he's gotten himself into. -- Wicked AU.

Fic by NomadicWolf

Art by @madwomanwithawarehouse

beta read by @melsmalone

for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

[thaliaisalesbian]

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 8: who used to be me

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Steve knows he went to bed with someone on either side of him, so waking up with no one there is a little concerning.

There’s a spike of panic before he recognizes Jonathan’s bedroom, with one of Nancy’s skirts hanging over a chair.

The kids—the kids are out.

They’re not in the Upside Down anymore.

He’s not in the Upside Down anymore.

“You awake, Steve?” Mrs. Byers sits next to him on the bed, feeling his forehead. “Oh, good, your fever’s much lower.”

“Good morning.” He tries to sit up, but it pulls something in his side and then he remembers the stitches.

“It’s almost two, sweetie. It’s not surprising, you were overwhelmed yesterday. You missed Irene’s visit, but she fixed up your stitches and changed your bandages. You won’t be off the IV for a few more days, though. And you'll have the catheter in until you can reliably stand on your own.” He winces despite himself when she mentions that. Steve really just wants to forget it's there. 

He hardly remembers waking up yesterday. Hopper was there for a lot of it. El, too. She’d read to him, one of those kids’ chapter books. He thinks if he remembered more of it, he’d know what book it was.

And then the kids. He’d seen them all, they’d had a fort? And then Nancy and Jonathan had made him come back to bed.

“I just need to check those again, and when Jonathan gets home from school, he can help you take a shower. I could help you now, if you’d prefer, or you could wait for Hopper. Whatever you want to do.” A shower sounds fantastic, but he’d rather take one alone.

The main problem is that he won’t be able to stand for that long. Not on his own.  It’ll hurt, and if they asked his nurse or whoever, they’d probably say no.

“I think I’ll wait for Jonathan.”

“That’s not a problem.” She props him up on different pillows—one smells a little like the shampoo Nancy uses, so he knows her lying down next to him wasn’t part of a dream or something—and hands him a glass of water.

“So, I’m thinking soup for lunch.” Mrs. Byers doesn’t need him to help keep up the conversation, which is good, because he doesn’t have much of anything to say right now. She talks about the kids’ fort and how they’d gotten to have a sleepover last night, how Hopper’s been talking to that Owens guy and he might have to go to the lab and have some tests run to make sure he’s okay.

She keeps talking the whole time it takes for him to drink the whole glass of water.

It’s half an hour, at least. It settles weirdly in his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s from the remnants of the fever or if it’s everything else going in his head right now.

“Do you think you can move out to the living room? I can’t carry you, but you can lean on me.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” It’s awkward, because he’s so much taller than she is, but it hurts less than walking alone does, and once he’s in the living room with evidence that the kids were there last night, safe and not dead, he’s able to relax a little more.

The fort is still set up, Will’s art supplies are out, and when he sits on the couch he can see El sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

“Is she…?”

“She’s just fine. You might not remember, but she tried drawing you out of your head yesterday. It tired her out a little, is all. She fell asleep not long before you woke up.”

“Okay.” Still, once Mrs. Byers has come back with the soup, El doesn’t sleep for long.

“You lied.” She looks at him.

“I didn’t lie, El.” On a technicality. “I never promised I would get out first, because I didn’t know what would happen.”

“You are not allowed to be alone now.”

“What?”

“Joyce and Hop said so.”

“El, we were talking about the next few weeks, until he heals up a little more.” Mrs. Byers interjects kindly. “Not ever again. I’m sure even Steve likes time to himself.”

Weeks? He’s not that bad off, he can even walk with help.

“I do, Mrs. Byers. It’d be kind of impossible for someone to be with me all the time anyway, kiddo. We all have school or work.” From the look on Mrs. Byers’ face, he’s going to be getting shit later for calling her ‘Mrs. Byers’, but she won’t say anything in front of El.

Hopefully.

El finally sits down, squishing against his non-bitten side. “You are not allowed to be alone. My rule.”

“El, you can’t go everywhere with me.”

“I will watch instead.”

“No. I love you, kid, but there are things I do that you don’t need to see and I know you can’t watch people for long.”

“It will be… practice.”

“Spying on me doesn’t count as practice.”

“Once a day?”

“No.”

“Every other day?”

“Still no.”

“Three times a week.”

“Nope.”

“Twice a week?” He shakes his head, tugging on her short hair a little. “Once a week?”

“Once a week will work, I guess. But only when I’m at school, and not after 2:30, okay?”

He usually has practice around then, and she doesn’t need to see the boys’ locker room.

If he’s allowed to practice again, that is. He wasn’t allowed to before all of this. His doctor had been very insistent upon it. And with all the new damage to his body… all the new scars… he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle being in a locker room again.

His mother would throw a fit if she could see him now. He's going to scar, that's for sure. And he's too skinny now for even her to think it looks pretty.

He wonders if she even knows that he was gone. He hasn’t asked Mrs. Byers yet; he’s a little scared of what the answer will be.

“Why?”

“I have practice that I have to change for, and after I have to change again. So nothing after 2:30, agreed?”

“Once a week, before two-three-oh.” She repeats, and he knows she’s just messing with him by the little grin on her face.

“You got it, Ellie.”

“No.” Her nose scrunches up and she shakes her head, like she can rid herself of the nickname that way. 

“Mom? Can I see Steve now?” Will’s backpack is half unzipped. and if he couldn’t see Jonathan right behind him he might be more worried about him losing all of his schoolwork. For a kid who typically keeps his things organized (or more organized than Steve had at his age, anyway), it’s a strange sight. “Steve!”

“Hey, buddy.” Will’s the one kid he hasn’t really spoken with much—certainly not as much as El, Dustin, and Max. He has a lot more common ground with Lucas, and even Mike, as annoying as he is. Will, though, is quieter, and while they talk when he’s over, it's not the same. Mike is the only other kid who doesn’t call him on the walkies whenever they need something, even if it’s just to talk after a nightmare.

It's because Mike and Will have Nancy and Jonathan, he knows. But he hopes they know they can call him. If they need to.

“You’re awake!”

“Yep, and almost fever-free.”

“You’re not allowed to do that again.” Will looks almost as serious as El had when she’d told him he wasn’t allowed to be alone. He doesn’t quite manage it; his worried face is almost identical to Jonathan’s.

Steve feels like maybe he shouldn’t know that. Or at least, he shouldn’t admit to knowing it. He can’t really remember the first time he realized he was noticing Jonathan, but the fact that it’s been long enough that he’s got his facial expression memorized?

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

Will pokes his shoulder lightly when he doesn’t answer. “I can’t make that promise, Will.”

“So you won’t make it to me, either?” Jonathan asks, and if it weren’t for El, his nearly-empty soup bowl would have spilled all over the carpet. Since when does Jonathan care about him putting himself in danger?

He's probably just saying it for the kids' sake.

Jonathan can’t mean it any other way, right?

(He doesn’t let himself think about the way Nancy and Jonathan had clearly shared a bed with him last night.)

“You know why I can’t.” Steve’s not going to say he’ll stop putting himself in danger when it really means he’s giving the kids time to run, get help, whatever.

“Jonathan,” Mrs. Byers says, maybe sensing that this is probably going to derail into an argument of everyone against him trying to get him to make a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep, “would you mind picking out a new set of clothes for Steve? He’s not quite steady enough on his feet for him to shower alone, so it was best to wait.”

“Of course, Mom.” He stops by the couch to give her a kiss on the cheek and ruffle El’s hair.

Steve tries to ignore the way his stomach sours when Jonathan doesn’t touch him at all. He knows what Jonathan thinks of him, he can’t let himself forget that.

“Will, El, please start taking the fort down.”

El looks like she’s going to remain stubbornly pressed against Steve’s side for a minute, but she does pull away without prompting to help Will.

“And you,” Mrs. Byers turns to him, trying to pull off stern but not quite hitting it with the way her lips turn up at the corners. “Call me Joyce. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that.”

“Maybe just once more, Mrs. Byers,” He says, just to be cheeky.

“Oh, you!” She laughs. “Jonathan, come get Steve! He thinks he’s funny.”

finish on ao3 or under the cut

Walking with Jonathan is easier than walking with Joyce, at least. They’re closer in height, and he’s not as worried he’s going to crush Jonathan.

Actually, he probably wouldn’t even crush El right now.

“I didn’t know if you’d want a t-shirt or a sweatshirt so I grabbed both.” Jonathan explains once they’re in the bathroom. “Do you just need me to stay in the room?”

He'd love to say no, but he doesn’t think he can.

Once he’s sat on the edge of the tub, Steve can feel his energy flagging. He’d been fine in the living room, and the walk wasn’t even as far as Jonathan’s bedroom, so he doesn’t know why he’s crashing.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You can just go back to bed, man, you’ve gone grey.”

“No, we’re already in here.”

“You’re not taking a shower, then. Come on, arms up.” Jonathan somehow manages to strip him down to his boxers. 

“Hang on.” Jonathan steps outside the bathroom for a minute, or maybe it’s five. He can’t really tell right now.

“Mom says your stitches can’t get wet, but your ankles will be okay. We’ll just have to rewrap them.” Jonathan covers the bandages on his torso in plastic wrap and takes the ones on his ankles off altogether.

“And Nancy called, she stopped by your house to get you a few things.”

“Okay.” Steve lets Jonathan worry about the water temperature and soap and everything else. Even sitting up without a backrest is taking so much thought, because he has to worry about not popping a stitch.

He hadn’t had time to be this worried about his ankles in the Upside Down, and it’s weird to be thinking about his wounds constantly now.

“Nancy will be here soon, do you just want to sit under the water until she gets here? She mentioned washing your hair for you.” He nods, and Jonathan half-lifts, half-dumps him into the bathtub. He barely fits, but that’s okay, because if he wasn’t forced into sitting up he’s not sure he’d be able to right now.

When Joyce said Steve was awake, Nancy wasn’t expecting to find him nearly passed out in the bathtub. Jonathan’s sitting on the edge, holding a wet washcloth like he’s never seen one before.

“Boys.” She mutters under her breath, not really thinking about it. “You know he wouldn’t have cared, right?” What Steve might care about, though, is the catheter bag on his leg. Joyce and Hopper take care of it, mostly, but Irene had wanted them to learn, too.

“No, he did some of it. I think he just likes sitting under the running water, honestly. It’s probably the first time he’s been clean in weeks.”

She sets down the bag she packed up at Steve’s house; some of his clothes (but not too many, because she thinks she likes seeing him in Jonathan’s and that’s a thought for later), a blanket she knows he finds it hard to sleep without, and his hair products. Not all of them, she doesn’t think he uses them all every day anyway, but enough.

“Nance?” It’s quiet, almost slurred.

“Hey, Steve.” He hardly reacts as she cups water in her hands and carefully pours it over his head.

She should have grabbed a cup from the kitchen. She washes his hair for him carefully.

Nancy’s glad he's not up to conversation, really. She'd probably tell him something she's not ready to… or something he’s not ready to hear.

Tommy had asked about him today. He’d pulled her aside between second and third period, the only ones she doesn’t have time to meet with Jonathan between, and asked her why he’s gone.

She’d had to tell him she didn’t know, and she hadn’t been all that upset about the lie.

He hadn’t pushed.

She’s not sure she wants to tell Steve about that. Tommy might be a safe enough topic, right now.

But she doesn’t want to, not when he’s like this, half-asleep and pliable.

Looking at them like they could leave him to drown in here and that’d be okay.

Instead, she talks about the kids’ latest campaign—he pays more attention to them than he lets on, she knows, because she’s seen him at the school library looking up different terms and rules. He relaxes into her hands when she works the shampoo into his hair.

He’d let her do anything she wanted to, right now.

She wants him to look at her like that in much better situations than this one. 

Jonathan must have dug around in the cupboards, because he has a cup ready to rinse the shampoo out, and she could kiss him for it.

“Hi.” Steve looks up at them both, and with his hair wet like this, she can see the little scars from the plate on his head.

To avoid tracing over them with her fingers, she picks up the conditioner and squeezes it maybe a little too hard.

Jonathan doesn’t seem to have the same issue; when she looks at them again, he’s got one hand tilting Steve’s chin up, the fingertips of his other hand delicately finding the paths the scars take into his hairline and across his scalp.

If Steve were more with them, she might tell Jonathan to kiss him.

Nancy knows he wants to; they’ve talked about it. Before Steve heard exactly the wrong thing.

But not now.

Not when Steve’s eyes are so hazy she’s not sure he’ll remember this tomorrow.

Not when they haven’t talked to Steve yet, about any of this.

None of them speak as she rinses out the conditioner, when Jonathan pulls the stopper, when they get Steve changed into a pair of Jonathan’s pants and one of his own slightly-too-big sweatshirts, no t-shirt underneath.

(It’s one she knows fit him perfectly last year.)

They wait until they’ve got him back in bed to rewrap his ankles.

And if Steve grabs each of their wrists loosely—fingers trembling like even this is too much for him to handle—when they try to leave, they don’t have to tell anyone that’s the reason they stay.

They don’t have to tell anyone they weren’t really going to leave anyway.

<- 7 9 ->

[throttlegainwell]

Found this in the Stoncy WIP folder (totally didn't remember it--so many WIPs...)

The funny thing about Nancy’s parents is that while they would never dream of letting her hang out alone in her room with a boy, they’re shockingly accepting of Nancy alone in her room with two boys. Like the one cancels out the other. It’s sort of endearing, in a way, that the truth doesn’t seem to occur to them: that instead of removing the possibility of Nancy having sex, the possibilities double. But that would require her parents to have some understanding of how threesomes work, and she would prefer to believe, for as long as possible, that they’re clueless.

[librathefangirl]

I Think I Love You

“This crush is painful,” Robin sighs as Nancy and Jonathan leave Family Video. / “What exactly are you trying to say, Steve?” / Steve shares a look with Nancy, stepping closer to Jonathan.

A love story told in three drabbles.

(Stoncy Week 2022, Day 2)

Written for Stoncy Week 2022, Day 2: You’re my ex but I still think I have feelings for you OR Spin the Bottle.

“This crush is painful,” Robin sighs as Nancy and Jonathan leave Family Video.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play stupid, dingus.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve faces his best friend. “That I still have feelings for Nance? Fine! I do.”

“Good. But I wasn’t talking about her.”

“Jonathan?! Why would you even think that?”

“One, you’re blushing. Only Nancy makes you blush. Two, I’ve seen you flirt. That was flirting. Three, I think he likes you too. Both of them actually.”

“Robin-”

“You’re always on my ass about Vickie. Take your own advice, Steve.”

-X-

“What exactly are you trying to say, Steve?”

He takes a deep breath. This is it. No more avoiding this.

“What I’m saying is,” Steve hesitates, tries to gauge how Nancy will react. Is Robin right about her feelings? About her and Jonathan?

“I’m still in love with you- I know you and Jonathan are together,” he hurriedly adds when she looks ready to protest. “I kinda think I love him too.”

Nancy blinks, uncertain. Then there’s a small smile.

“You have feelings for- you want to date me and Jonathan, together?”

Steve doesn’t have to think about it.

“Yes.”

-X-

Steve shares a look with Nancy, stepping closer to Jonathan. She looks encouraging, he intrigued. Steve cups his face gently.

“You’re not gonna punch me again, are you?”

Steve doesn’t feel uncertain like when he talked with Robin, or hesitant like when he talked with Nancy. Steve’s in his element.

“I don’t think so.” Jonathan’s eyes flicker downwards. Steve smirks.

He kisses him softly. Waiting for his reaction. Jonathan kisses him back fiercely.

Steve forgets himself for a moment. Then Nancy grabs both their hands. Jonathan glances at her wide-eyed.

“Remember that thing we talked about?” Nancy asks.

Jonathan smiles.

[stevethehousewife]

Summary: They kind of fall into it the first time. It’s not planned, none of it is ever planned, it just kind of… happens.

Chapter 1 - After the Demogorgon

They kind of fall into it the first time.

It’s not planned, none of it is ever planned, it just kind of… happens.

Nancy and Steve are still on shaky ground, neither of them really having the time to talk about any of it, but she and Jonathan both turn to him when they’re standing together out on the porch, the two of them grabbing his arms and pulling him closer, looking for any possible wounds from the Demogorgon.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asks, hand on his face, turning Steve’s jaw to look along his throat.

“You were amazing,” Nancy says, “I can’t believe you came back.”

Steve kind of just surrenders to it, feeling their hands on his sides, letting them pat him down and check him over.

Checking… that quickly devolves into his lips sliding over Nancy’s, and then Jonathan’s, and they don’t - not a single one of them - stop to think that maybe it’s a little, well, strange.

Together, they manage to get back into the house, down the hall and over the snapped bear trap, the burned carpet, and into what he assumes is Jonathan’s bedroom before they fall into it together, Steve landing on top of them with their legs between his.

He’s still lip-locked with Jonathan when they try to take his shirt off together and he pulls back to help, lifting it as their hands drop to his belt.

Jonathan rips it out, pulling Steve down against him as he does it, as he turns to drag his hand down the front of Nancy’s shirt, and then he’s being sandwiched in between them, their shaking hands stripping him naked while he helps Nancy out of her jeans.

Steve grabs her waist and turns to put her in the middle instead, shoving her shirt up and dropping his head to suck at the soft skin under her breast, listening to her breath hitch.

The three of them struggle to find some kind of balance the first time, switching it up when one of them can’t get where they want to be with another, all of them so mindless with desperation and longing that it doesn’t even frustrate them to get their footing - settling, eventually, with Jonathan in the middle, sinking into Nancy as Steve spreads him open from behind with fingers slick with lube that’s nervously shoved into his hand as Jonathan’s eyes meet his.

As good as it is up until that point, everything pales before they’re all connected, each of them moving together like they’ve done it a thousand times before. It’s one hell of a way for Byers to lose his virginity and Steve doesn’t even realize it until he’s helping, guiding Jonathan’s hips forward, showing him where to put his hands.

But for a moment, everything between them actually makes sense.

Their legs rub together in the tangle of Jonathan’s bed sheets, Nancy’s fingers lace with his on Jonathan’s hip and Steve turns him so they can kiss, able to taste Nancy’s lip gloss on Jonathan’s mouth.

He wasn’t expecting it to last after that night, per se. Hoped? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have some kind of hope for more. He definitely didn’t expect it. But he was expecting, well… something, though.

Instead, things got weirdly tense, and he and Jonathan drifted apart and never spoke about it again. And, after a month of waiting, hoping something more would happen, he finally folded and Nancy and him reconnected instead, and Jonathan and that night after the fight with the Demogorgon quickly became a thing of the past.

… Or that’s what he thought.

The full fic is already posted. For full releases at once, you can go here. Otherwise, I post semi-sporadically here and on AO3.

[astrobei]

bandaging/stitching up an injury with stonathan PLEASE i need more of them

The first thing Jonathan does when he sees him is let out a long, slow whistle.

“Jesus,” he mutters, crossing the living room in three quick steps. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“Got beat up by a racist piece of shit,” Steve mutters, leaning back against the sofa cushions and holding a bag of frozen peas to his face. Ow. “But don’t tell anyone. It can’t be good for my street cred.”

Steve’s got his eyes mostly closed, still, but he sees Jonathan’s face do a funny twitching thing, like he was about to laugh. “What street cred,” Jonathan says, and he doesn’t laugh, exactly, but Steve hears one in his voice anyway. “Your street cred died out a long time ago.”

“Yeah, okay, very funny. Chuff it up, Byers,” Steve grumbles, adjusting the bag of peas and trying to find another cold spot. It’s mostly room temperature now, sloshing around wetly with each movement, which is more disgusting than anything else. Steve lets out a frustrated noise. “Great. And now my peas are warm.”

“I’ll get you another bag,” Jonathan says, because right, this is his house, and Steve is getting blood all over his couch like the world’s actual worst houseguest. If his parents saw his appalling lack of manners, there would be some words to be said.

Well maybe about the bloody face first. And then the manners.

Maybe.

Jonathan opens the freezer door and stops dead in his tracks. “Steve?”

“Mm?”

“Why is there a– Jesus, I don’t even know what this is, and I’m a little afraid to ask– why is there a thing in my fridge?”

Ah. Right. 

“Listen,” Steve starts apologetically. “Henderson was just shooting me these giant puppy eyes and going on and on about scientific discovery or some shit and honestly I didn’t really want to have to deal with taking it outside. Like, what do you even do with the bodies? Burn ‘em? Bury ‘em? Ritual sacrifice?”

Jonathan peers at him over the refrigerator door, and blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ritual sacrifice,” Steve says again, waving a noncommittal hand in the air. “You know. You’re always listening to those broody, scary guys with the weird hair and the– uh, the guitars. You know.”

“I think you’re concussed,” Jonathan says simply, pulling a face as he presumably reaches around the Demodog’s body for the peas. “Did you hit your head?”

“I hit a lot of things,” Steve laughs, which is maybe answering Jonathan’s question.

“You ruined the good quilt,” Jonathan frowns, letting the door fall shut. “You owe me a new one.”

Steve extends his arm as Jonathan walks back, pressing the new bag to his face with a relieved sigh as he says, “Sure, yeah, come over to mine and take your pick. My aunt just took up quilting actually.”

Jonathan peers down at him. He’s still standing up, hovering, somehow managing to look uncomfortable in the middle of his own living room. “Did she really?”

“No idea,” Steve admits. “Haven’t heard from her since last December. I think she got cancer and died.”

“Steve,” Jonathan laughs, a little shocked, “that’s morbid,” and, okay, maybe Steve is a little concussed after all.

“Whatever,” he says, then pats the sofa next to him. “Sit down, man, it’s your house.”

Jonathan sits. Steve tilts his head back, presses the peas to the bruise he knows is blossoming a dark and vibrant purple around his eye. Jonathan’s watching him, silently observant like he always is. It should be unsettling. It used to be unsettling, back before Steve exchanged a proper, actual sentence with him. Now it’s kind of comforting, knowing that he doesn’t need to fill up the silence with meaningless blabbering.

Doesn’t mean he won’t do it anyway.

“You look like shit,” he blurts out, eyeing the way Jonathan’s shirt has gone all streaked with dirt and is still a little patchy with sweat. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and he looks like he’s been up for three days straight, but he still seems more awake than Steve is feeling. Alert. The usual slouchiness to his posture is gone, replaced by something less, uh, tortured. A little calmer, maybe. “How much do you sweat?”

“Well, we had to sweat the Mind Flayer out of Will,” Jonathan says casually, like he’s recounting a Saturday afternoon out on the town. “And we cranked the heat up to, like, a hundred thirty or something so yeah, I’m a little sweaty.”

Steve stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“So he’s– he’s okay then? Where is he?”

Jonathan plucks at a stray thread sticking out of the couch. It’s old upholstery, and Steve can see a smattering of old, faded stains across the cushions, but it’s soft and worn and comfortable, and nothing like the ones in Steve’s own living room. “Well, Owens is hurt so he had to call someone in and it’s a whole mess that basically means the fewer people the better for tonight.”

Steve isn't really sure who Owens is, and he can't really discern from Jonathan’s tone whether or not he’s supposed to be happy about this guy being unexpectedly incapacitated. “Ah,” he says anyway. “Is he okay?”

“Yes?” Jonathan offers. Steve watches him out of the corner of his eye. He fiddles with his thumbs. Steve wants to reach out and grab his hands, just to still them, calm him down. “I can go first thing in the morning, it’s just– Hopper has some pull and my mom is– well, she’s our mom, and– I don’t know, okay, I just look at him and I see this thing that had its hands around my mom’s throat and I think to myself, hey, that’s my little brother. You know?”

Steve feels a little blown away. A little– flabbergasted, maybe. He’s not sure he’s heard Jonathan Byers say this much at one time in his entire life, and as it is, he stops talking suddenly, biting down on his lower lip like he had more to say but just isn’t.

“Yeah,” Steve croaks, even though he doesn’t know. He’s an only child and he’s spent most of his childhood alone and he guesses he has the Henderson kid now, but that’s not the same. Jonathan and Will– they’re something else. He isn’t really sure what to say other than that, so he just reaches out, places a hand on Jonathan’s knee, and squeezes. Like maybe this can say something he can’t. “I’m sorry. He’ll be okay. He’s a tough kid.”

Jonathan looks down at Steve’s hand on his knee and then back up, meeting his gaze. Something flits across his face, lightning fast and then it’s gone. “Thanks,” he says, a little quieter than before. 

Steve wonders if maybe he should move his hand, but Jonathan doesn’t seem to be all that bothered by it and Steve thinks, privately, that he likes the steady weight of him under his palm. Heavy and solid. Strangely anchoring. Maybe it’s the possible concussion talking. Maybe it’s not.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers.

A moment passes like this. The house is quiet. Everyone else has gone home, to the hospital, wherever they have to go, and Steve is here because he’d taken Dustin home and then thought about his own house– dark and empty and wholly more terrifying than any of the monsters or the blood or the douchebag assholes in open-front shirts and mullets– and he’d ended up here.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jonathan says after a second. “You’ve got– it’s a lot of dried blood.”

“Sorry about the couch,” Steve says pathetically, as if he hadn’t been getting his messed up face all over it for the last thirty minutes. “You can get the blood out of it, I think.”

Jonathan is digging something out from under the sink– a first aid kit that looks like it’s been sitting there since the first World War. “Believe me,” he says. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Steve lifts the bag of peas off his face. This one’s starting to go warm too, and he blinks blearily in the living room light as he peels his particularly sore eye open. “Be honest with me, Byers,” he calls out after Jonathan as he ducks into the bathroom, then pops back out a second later with a clean washcloth in hand. “How many murders have you committed in this house?”

Jonathan laughs at that, sudden and sharp, and then he makes a face like he’s surprised with himself for doing it. It’s unexpected, the sound, and it’s even more unexpected the way something swoops low in Steve’s chest. Like it’s some kind of victory, making Jonathan want to laugh so badly that he surprised himself by doing it, like he really just couldn’t help himself. “Zero,” he says, making his way back to the sofa. “So far. Here– come here.”

Steve isn’t really sure where here is, because then Jonathan is sitting down next to him and their knees are touching and there’s not really anywhere he can go that isn’t already as close as he can physically get to him. So he just leans his head in a little, turns his face up towards the light. “Good?”

“Shit.” Jonathan makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. He cups a hand around Steve’s jaw, tilting his face a little to the right. “He got you good, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve mutters, and Jonathan lets out another one of those sudden, quick laughs. Steve bites back a smile. Good, he thinks, a little absently. Good.

“I see what you mean about the street cred,” Jonathan murmurs. “Nice bandaids, by the way.”

“Courtesy of your brother’s idiot friends,” Steve sighs, and then winces as the cloth makes contact with a cut on his cheek. “Shit. Ow.”

“It’s a little one,” Jonathan smirks. “How is it that you can’t deal with a little–”

“It’s the fucking rings,” Steve bemoans, this time focusing very hard on keeping his face neutral as Jonathan dabs the dried blood away. “What kind of asshole wears that many rings on one hand?”

“The kind of asshole that goes around punching people?” Jonathan offers, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Very funny.”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan continues, ducking his head down and finding a clean spot on the towel. There’s a smile playing on his lips, even if he thinks Steve can’t see him. “I’m pretty sure I remember doing some damage even without any rings on.”

“Congratulations,” Steve says drily, “you’re better than the guy who rubs himself down with body oil before leaving the house.”

Jonathan laughs at this, a real, loud laugh, and Steve thinks, for a fleeting second, that he might like this laugh even better than the other one. “I should hope so,” Jonathan is saying, and then he’s leaning in again and dabbing at Steve’s forehead. “That doesn’t seem like a very high bar.”

“You should do that more,” Steve murmurs, watching Jonathan’s mouth twitch in concentration. 

Jonathan frowns, then glances down, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Do what?”

“Laugh,” Steve says, the single syllable halfway out of his mouth before he has any inclination to, oh, I don’t know, maybe not say that? He’s thinking about the way Jonathan had lit up for a moment there, the way the weariness he always seems to carry around him sloughed off his shoulders, even if for just a second. What comes out of his mouth though, instead of any halfway eloquent manner of saying this, is, “It makes your face look nice.”

Maybe he is concussed. In a very real, serious way, maybe Steve Harrington is currently suffering from a grade-A concussion.

Jonathan looks a little bit horrified, but mostly kind of confused. He shakes his head. “It makes my– okay, you definitely have a concussion,” he says at last, which, yeah, Steve had been coming to this conclusion himself, actually. “So try not to get any major brain damage before we can get you checked out, yeah?”

“I’m trying,” Steve says, and then, “ow, dude, you can be a little more gentle, you know.”

“Sorry,” and Jonathan does sound a bit apologetic as he says this. He’s got one hand still cupped under Steve’s chin, fingers resting lightly against his jaw.

Steady hands, Steve thinks, closing his eyes as Jonathan wipes over them. Steady hands. A more gentle touch than he would have expected from someone so rough-looking. All broad shoulders and frown lines and a piercing kind of stare. “It’s just not coming off too easy.”

“Yeah, it’s dried down,” Steve says, “it’s been a few hours.”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement and turns Steve’s face towards the light some more. “You should have cleaned it up before,” he says softly. “Your face is all swollen.”

“I told him not to hit the moneymaker,” Steve says in a deadpan. “He didn’t listen.”

Jonathan shoots him an exasperated glare, then hands him the squishy bag of peas again as he digs around in his ancient first aid kit. “Ice.”

“No, those are peas,” Steve says without thinking, and then Jonathan groans and drops his head into both hands.

“When my mom gets back with the car, you’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Steve grins, placing the peas back over his eyes. “Seriously. My dad always said I had a thick skull.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Jonathan says. He pulls out a tube of ointment, something thick and pasty, and beckons Steve forward again. “Come here.”

The ointment smells about as bad as it looks, and Steve pulls a face. “Dude,” he crinkles up his nose, “what the hell is that?”

“It’s gross but it works,” Jonathan says, frowning in concentration. He smears a thin layer of it over the cut on Steve’s forehead, all cleaned up now that the blood’s washed away. “Trust me.”

“Trust–”

The tube is almost empty. Steve swallows lightly and looks away.

It feels like he’s intruding on something, having Jonathan be so close to him. Being close enough to see the little spots where he’d nicked himself shaving, or how his hair is streaked through with a little blonde, the kind you can’t tell apart from ordinary brown until you’re really, really up close and personal. Which Steve– totally is. Oh, okay.

Steve swallows again, and closes his eyes.

“One down,” Jonathan murmurs, making his way over to a cut on Steve’s temple, “ninety nine to go.”

“He didn’t land that many hits,” Steve whispers, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. “Give me some credit.”

“Mike says you got him really good once,” Jonathan says, “so maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

It sounds like he’s smiling a little. Steve is tempted– so tempted– to open his eyes, just to see that.

He doesn’t. 

“You just got lucky, Byers,” he says instead. “You caught me off guard.”

“And then I caught you off guard again. And again, and again,” Jonathan says, and he’s definitely smiling now. “Two down.”

Steve lets out a long, slow exhale. “At this rate, I’ll have graduated by the time you’re done.”

“You should be thanking me,” Jonathan huffs, but it doesn’t sound malicious at all. He strokes a thumb over Steve’s cheekbone, and Steve fights back a shiver.

“Thank you,” he says, as genuinely as he can muster, then opens his eyes. Jonathan is staring straight at him, eyes a little wide, cheeks a little red. Steve grabs his wrist, the one that’s right up by his face, and says, “That’s– I’m being serious, by the way. I’m not trying to fuck with you.”

“Sure,” Jonathan gets out. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry I made you hit me,” Steve goes on, and if he has a concussion after all, he can blame whatever he’s saying on that. And he must be, because it’s getting hard to think in a straight line, and every train of thought just keeps circling back around to this. Warm fingertips moving over his face. So gently, like Steve is– like he’s something delicate. Something to be handled with care.

“I– it’s okay.”

Jonathan doesn’t blink. It should be more unnerving than it is. He’s got pretty eyes, Steve thinks, from a little bit out of his body. They’ve got some green in them. A little gold, too.

“I was an ass,” Steve says, and Jonathan’s eyes dart between his. Trying to see, maybe, if Steve is trying to fuck with him. If there’s a punchline at the end of this, somewhere, and whether or not that punchline is him.

Whatever he’s searching for, he must not find it, because he sighs and says, “I know.”

“You–! Okay,” Steve mutters. “Low blow, but I guess I’m the one apologizing here, so I should be able to take it and not expect a–”

“I’m not mad,” Jonathan interrupts, and then moves down to Steve’s jaw. He hadn’t even known he got hurt there, but because he’s him, of course he did. “That’s five.”

Steve blinks. “You’re not?”

“We’re different people now.” Jonathan shrugs, dips a finger through the ointment and smears it across the skin there. The smell of something strong and medicinal hits Steve head-on, and he wrinkles up his nose. “You, me. You’re not a total piece of work, and I’m not a–”

“Brooding loser,” Steve cuts in, and Jonathan gives him a look.

“I was going to say guy whose brother went missing,” Jonathan says, and then he rubs the pad of his finger over a particularly tender spot– a deep part of the cut underlaid with a bruise Steve doesn’t even have to see to know is there– and Steve lets out a startled hiss of pain.

“Ah–”

“Sorry!” And he really does sound sorry, and Steve figures they’d just been having a nice little talk so it wasn’t, like, mean or an act of petty revenge or anything. “Shit, yeah, let’s get you a bandaid for that one.”

“No Star Wars?” Steve jokes, as Jonathan comes up with– thank god– a plain beige one.

Jonathan squints at him, peeling the paper backing off. “Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“Not once,” Steve admits. “No one I know is into that sort of thing.”

“You know me,” Jonathan says easily, running a finger over the bandaid and then pausing. “I mean–”

“Whoa,” Steve laughs. He tries to go for casual, for good-natured, but it comes out a little too overeager, stilted. “Are you asking me out, Byers?”

Jonathan blanches. “I– no.”

Belatedly, Steve realizes that this joke might have been marginally more funny if it came from anyone but him. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know what you meant.” Jonathan traces his thumb over to the last cut, sideways across Steve’s upper lip. “And you didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Hey, man, look–”

“You can probably deal with this last one on your own,” Jonathan says, but doesn’t move his hand away. “Your lip is busted, but it’s not too bad.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers. He doesn’t move either. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“Thanks for being there today,” Jonathan says back. “I saw you with the kids. You’re good with them.”

Steve huffs out a small laugh, and it gets caught there, somewhere along the line between Jonathan’s thumb and wrist, still snagged onto the curve of his upper lip. “Oh that? It was nothing.”

Jonathan shakes his head. It’s minute, barely noticeable. “They look up to you. Dustin, especially. It’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to step up. Not everyone can have a–”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “A what?”

You, Steve thinks, heart picking up pace suddenly. Not everyone can have you. 

“They can’t all have–”

The word you never makes it out of his mouth, because then Jonathan is kissing him.

Steve gasps, because he has an open fucking wound on his lip and this is probably a thousand different kinds of unhygienic and an excellent way to spread another thousand different kinds of germs. And then Jonathan’s hands cup either side of his face and he’s pressing in so hard that it can’t be fueled by anything other than instinct and desperation, and then all thoughts regarding germs and sanitation and wow I’m glad he washed his hands before getting all up in my busted face fly right out of Steve’s head.

He’s warm, is the first thing Steve notices. The second and third are, in order, that he’s very broad and he’s very solid. It’s nothing like kissing a girl. There’s no give to him, no softness to the rigid muscles of his arms that Steve had no idea even existed. He’s gripping onto Jonathan’s forearms, apparently, which he doesn’t remember doing but he can’t find the state of mind to do literally anything else.

Jonathan’s arms are solid and rough and the muscles flex gently under Steve’s palms. He’s so solid, anchoring, and he’s holding Steve’s face like that again– like Steve is a delicate thing. Something that needs to be handled with a ginger touch, with appreciation, with trace amounts of tenderness.

Jonathan’s lips press into his once, then twice, like he just couldn’t help himself, and Steve makes what is maybe the most embarrassing noise he’s made in his life to date. This is good, he thinks. And he knows good. He’s Steve Harrington, okay, he basically invented it. But where the hell did Jonathan Byers learn how to kiss?

“Okay,” Steve hears himself say the second Jonathan pulls back. “What was–”

“Don’t freak out,” Jonathan says, sounding like he’s on the verge of freaking out himself. “Please don’t freak out. I need you to not freak out.”

“Who, me?” If Steve’s voice cracks, just a little, neither of them say anything. “I would never. Never ever ever ever– um. So why did you– not that I’m– yeah.”

“Like I said,” Jonathan says, “we’re different people now,” and he looks nowhere near as totally and completely thrown for a loop as Steve feels at the moment. His ears are bright red, though, and there’s a light dusting of pink across the tops of his cheekbones, and it feels like another victory, getting Jonathan Byers to blush. 

“Cool,” Steve says faintly. His lip is throbbing, and he brings a hand up to his mouth and pulls it away to see red on his fingers. “Ah, great,” he winces. “Look what you did, man. You fucked my lip up again.”