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kayjayjwrites · 29 days

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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stevie-petey · 2 months

Text

episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.”

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion.

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.”

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes.

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.”

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.”

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t.

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed.

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from.

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying.

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

–

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well.

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says.

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming.

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself.

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly.

Damn him.

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.”

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully.

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time.

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled.

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car.

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is her’s entirely.

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door.

“Hey–”

“Sorry, my room is here.”

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?”

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside.

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year.

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious.

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you.

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan.

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is.

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer.

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him.

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat.

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit together than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still).

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can.

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.”

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his.

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking.

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle.

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.”

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed.

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.”

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.”

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous.

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!”

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.”

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room.

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room.

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy.

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

But you’re fucking terrified.

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan.

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you.

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try.

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve.

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.”

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft.

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him.

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.”

You frown. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.”

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger.

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.”

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying.

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh.

“Touche.”

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so saw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve.

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him.

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment.

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place.

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot.

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now.

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo.

“I just want to be loved.”

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you.

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now.

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him.

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love.

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand.

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested.

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are closer than the average friends, regardless of gender.

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more.

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically.

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion.

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions.

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?”

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

–

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up.

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you.

Dustin confessing about Dart.

Locking the Demodog in your cellar.

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response.

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve.

Dart going missing.

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night.

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it.

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip.

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee.

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.”

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.”

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide.

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?”

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes.

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store.

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother.

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?”

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet.

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.”

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him.

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive.

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?”

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again.

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!”

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.”

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure.

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are.

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.”

“But–”

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready.

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy.

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says.

Steve scowles at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–”

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money.

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car.

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him.

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting.

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop.

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news.

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before.

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night.

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?”

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.”

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively.

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?”

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble.

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel.

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you.

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.”

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, jesus!”

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.”

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade.

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?”

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.”

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself.

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves.

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile.

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you.

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say.

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands.

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him.

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel.

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at.

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party.

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago.

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house.

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles.

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you.

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.”

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks.

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live.

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down.

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares.

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat.

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.”

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you.

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him.

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now.

You guys had one emotional conversation.

“Y/N?”

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for.

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?”

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment?

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk.

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.”

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!”

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–”

“Says you,” you butt in.

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car.

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now.

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him.

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused.

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat.

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year.

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place.

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene.

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.”

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.”

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait.

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world.

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment.

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.”

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.”

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts.

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.”

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens.

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?”

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles.

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.”

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.”

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.”

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles.

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.”

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.”

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.”

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?”

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always.

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back.

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks.

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified.

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.”

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off.

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies.

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies.

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure.

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party.

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.”

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly.

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy.

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life.

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues.

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways.

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.”

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.”

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you.

“Well, isn’t that ominous.”

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin.

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait.

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?”

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?”

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up.

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.”

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Because you’re terrible with girls.”

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.”

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?”

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.”

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.”

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze.

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.”

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.”

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him.

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.”

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.”

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully).

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence.

–

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday.

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed.

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys.

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl.

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit.

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas.

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well.

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better.

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers.

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness.

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you.

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins.

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise.

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at.

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps.

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive.

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base.

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus.

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours.

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?”

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon.

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one.

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them.

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat.

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab.

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus.

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual.

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?”

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range.

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up.

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose.

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dusin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window.

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you.

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard.

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds.

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down.

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him.

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve.

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart.

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work.

It has to work.

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat.

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him.

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave.

Steve saved your life last year.

Now it’s your turn.

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering.

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle.

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you.

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve.

Well, at least the live bait plan is working.

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars.

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you.

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart.

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear.

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own.

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon.

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs.

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there.

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well.

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges.

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run.

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear.

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!”

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door.

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body.

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth.

Awesome. Cool.

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her.

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you.

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting.

“Never been better,” you wheeze out.

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual.

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs.

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more.

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams.

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you.

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away.

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day.

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes.

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours.

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,”

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left.

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you.

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.”

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.”

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps.

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy.

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further.

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety.

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group.

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into.

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut.

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.”

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