Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was something broken inside Nancy Wheeler.

She had known it for awhile, ever since she was 14 years old and realized she was in love with Steve Harrington. That wasn’t the broken bit. The broken bit was that it never upset her to see him with a different girl on his arm every week.

She was supposed to get jealous, she knew, but she didn’t think she was capable of that emotion. And that was the broken bit.

It didn’t matter as much when they got together, because then there were no other girls, and she didn’t even have to pretend to be mad about it like she knew Tommy and Carol and the entire town of Hawkins, Indiana would expect from her.

Except maybe sometimes she wanted there to be other girls. Sometimes she wanted Steve to bring a girl home, someone he wanted to kiss, someone she could kiss too.

Once upon a time she had figured that was another broken bit too, that girls weren’t supposed to actually want other girls independent of their boyfriend saying it was hot. But then Barb had said she liked girls, and Nancy had said she liked boys and girls, and it felt a lot less broken.

No recourse on the other bit, though.

And then Will Byers went missing and then so did Barb, while she was having sex with Steve that didn’t fix any of the broken pieces inside of her, and she started to think maybe she wasn’t a little bit broken, but a lot.

Because she started to hang out with Jonathan Byers. And she wanted him in the exact same way she wanted Steve.

Which was broken, wrong, greedy. But Nancy had never been very good with wishy-washiness, so she committed to being broken and being damn good at it. When Steve graffitied the cinema sign and called her Nancy “The Slut” Wheeler, she couldn’t even be mad.

It felt fair, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong yet.

And Jonathan had started to brawl, to defend his family but also to defend her honor, and Nancy knew she would never be good enough for him either.

“Nobody’s that stupid unless they’re in love,” the lady at the police station had said, and Nancy felt her heart plummet.

God, not another one.

And she thought maybe Jonathan was the one for her, as she saw Steve less and hung out with Jonathan more.

Until it was the three of them, back to back, fighting the Demogorgon, and Steve came back for her - for them - and Nancy realized there wasn’t The One for her, it was both of them, and she was well and truly fucked.

But then after the Demagorgon and finding Will and nobody ever finding Barb and nobody ever caring, Jonathan withdrew back on himself and Nancy and Steve went on another date and the whole world expected her to be okay, to be not-broken by anything that had happened and be not-broken the way she was before, and she tried to fake it, just a little bit.

Steve bought Jonathan the camera, to apologize, and she kissed him on the cheek and wished him Merry Christmas and she wanted to ask him to stay but she didn’t. Steve had no one to go home to, but Jonathan had a mother and a brother who’d just been returned and he didn’t have much time for Nancy, anyway, stupid bullshit Nancy who was never gonna leave Hawkins, just marry a nice man in a nice, loveless marriage like her parents, and have a white picket fence and have two kids who hated the town as much as she did.

Even though she didn’t really want any of that. Even though Nancy felt like she had far too much love in her soul to ever marry a man like her father.

And Steve really made himself better, and she thought, maybe they could all be friends. Maybe Jonathan could awkwardly third wheel and it’d be as close to satisfied as she could ever get. But Jonathan came round less and less, only answered the phone when she called him waking up from yet another nightmare, and hid out in the dark room.

She missed him.

She was pretty sure Steve missed him too, though he was too proud to say it, but their lunch table felt empty without Jonathan and the dates they went on in the summer were missing something - someone - and Nancy wondered if she should just give up and embrace her broken and go back to being the kind of girl that got Nancy “the Slut” Wheeler written on movie marquees, because nothing could be more agonizing than this.

But she couldn’t do that to Steve, hurt him like that, because she loved Steve. Except, did she really love Steve if she loved Jonathan too?

She had to admit, even if she didn’t like it, that she couldn’t be normal, but she didn’t know how to be good at being broken, either.

* * *

Nancy was mad at Steve. It wasn’t even his fault, and on some level she knew that, but being snarky to him helped take some of the edge off, and besides, she couldn’t really love him if she loved Jonathan too and if she didn’t love him, if she was just some traumatized broken banged-up doll, it didn’t matter if she was nice or not.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy,” Steve cautioned, reaching out with one hand to try to slow her drinking. She didn’t want to take it easy, though; she wanted to get absolutely smashed and forget about Barb and monsters and government conspiracies and the fact her heart didn’t work the way it was supposed to.

“Stupid teenagers,” she shot back, taking another full glass. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?” And then she drained her cup and slid her way into the throng of drunk high schoolers.

Normally, Nancy would cringe at being this close to other humans, relative strangers who she'd gone to school with her whole life. But Nancy had had two drinks of “pure fuel,” whatever the fuck that meant, and she was feeling pretty fucking good, and the hand on her back didn't bother her as much as it ought to have.

“Dance with me, Steve!” she demanded, tossing her hands up and shaking in a way that probably approximated dancing. He was close behind her and he put his hands on her hips but it didn't feel like love, so she moved harder and drank more to try to forget that.

He wasn't smiling at her, but he was supposed to be smiling. She offered him her cup - empty, she realized belatedly - and he tried to take it but she snatched it back.

“I'll get more!” she declared, feeling lighter than she had in months, in years even, and decided the “pure fuel” was pretty damn good.

Steve said something, but she couldn't hear him over the music, and she wasn't sure she wanted to, anyway. She bounded away for more drink.

Out of the corner of her eye, she kept thinking she saw Jonathan, which would be so good! Her two favorite people in one place! She couldn't get them to hang out together - they kept goddamn avoiding each other! But she wanted them to. And she could make both her boys dance with her and it'd be so good.

Steve came up beside her as she was finishing her fourth cup. The third hadn't made her feel as good, so she decided she needed more, but then neither had this one.

“Nance, you are so drunk,” Steve sighed, like it wasn't great. Like it wasn't what he'd wanted.

“I know,” she replied, slurring slightly, though she wasn't sure if she did know. She went to fill her glass a fifth time and he leapt into action to stop her.

“No. No.” He grabbed at her arms but she shook him loose.

“Get off!” she demanded, and suddenly she wasn’t so happy anymore.

“You’ve had enough, okay?”

“Screw you!” she replied, which wasn’t nice, but it felt good, so she said it again. And then she dipped her cup back into the glass basin and grabbed some more of the only thing that could make her feel better.

Steve grabbed her cup. “Nance, I’m serious! Put it down!”

“No!” She tugged it back towards her, and then he tugged it back towards him, and she yelled at him to stop.

And then he did and she fell backwards and the red, sticky drink was all over her white shirt and she almost cried and Steve looked very worried and this was his fault! “What the hell?” she demanded, and then she stormed off to the bathroom, not caring whether he followed, because she had to clean her shirt, just had to get it out, because it was a good shirt and now it was gross.

Steve shut the bathroom door behind him and she glared at him the whole time as she drenched a towel and started rubbing it on the stain. He tried to apologize and she glared harder.

“It’s not coming off, Nance,” he sighed, defeated.

“It’s coming.” He didn’t have a right to sound upset like that, she was upset, she was hurting. “All you say...is No. All day. No.”

He shook his head, not bothering to answer, which annoyed her even further. “Come on, let me just take you home.”

“You wanted this,” she whined, because he was the whole fucking reason she was here, wasted and covered in a drink in somebody’s bathroom and feeling like shit and he had wanted her to pretend she wasn’t broken, just like every fucking other person did, and it turned out like this.

He shook his head again. Every time his hair bounced, it made her even madder. “No, I didn’t want this. I told you to stop drinking.”

God, he sounded so high and mighty, full of himself. “Bullshit.” He had wanted this.

“It’s not bullshit!”

But she just kept repeating it until she felt steady enough to grip the counter with one hand, white-knuckling it, and look up into his eyes through her stringy messed-up bangs, and spat, “No. You. You’re bullshit.”

He was hurt, and he was confused, and that just pissed her off all over again. He didn’t get to be confused! She was confused, while he seemed to be navigating the world just fine.

“You’re pretending like - like everything is okay,” she sniffled, tears beginning to prick behind her eyes. “You know, like, like we didn’t - like we didn’t kill Barb.”

His face dropped at that, his mouth gently falling open and he just blinked at her with that sad puppy dog face but it’s true, they killed Barb, because if they hadn’t been upstairs pretending to be grown, having sex, being hormonal idiots, then, then, the Demagorgon would never have got her. So it was no one but Nancy and Steve that killed her.

“Like - like - like everything’s great, like we’re in love and we’re partying.” She did her best attempt at an eyeroll, but it doesn’t work that well when half the room’s spinning anyway. “Yeah, let’s party,” she spat derisively. “Party,” she repeated, stuck on the word. “We’re partying. This is bullshit.”

“‘Like we’re in love?’” he repeated back to her, voice breaking, and god, he was so ridiculous, focusing on the wrong part of that sentence, all he cared about was himself, himself, this facade that he presented to the world.

“It’s bullshit,” she said again, carefully enunciating, because it was ridiculous that that was the only part of her rant he focused on.

“You don’t love me?” he asked, but she was too addled on fuel to have her usual internal crisis that that would bring, and she was still mad he wasn’t addressing the part where she talked about how they killed Barb, so again, she just said what she could: “It’s bullshit.”

He sighed, dropping his hand from her cheek, and took a step back. Then a step forward. And then he was out the bathroom door, slamming it, leaving her all by her lonesome.

She grabbed the wet towel and started dabbing at her shirt again. If she were sober, she’d wonder about getting home - Steve was her ride, and she had no idea where he’d gone. Her parents were at a Halloween party and would also kill her if they knew. Jonathan was...somewhere.

But she was drunk, and she wanted more fuel.

She staggered out of the bathroom and over to the kitchen, grabbing another cup. Only suddenly her stomach revolted against her and she needed air right then, dropping her cup and stumbling to the door.

“Nance, it’s time to go,” someone said softly, and then there were hands on her shoulders and she was being put in a car and everything was so blurry and she felt like maybe she was dying and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

The rest of the evening was blurry but she remembered flashes, strong arms and stumbling, dark stairs, thanking god her parents weren’t home.

Someone - the same someone - helped her into bed and with all the care of a fairytale prince started to take off her shoes. She cracked an eye, grasping for an arm. “Jonathan?” she whispered, disbelief coursing through her. God, how drunk was she?

She closed her eyes again, head already starting to pound. The covers went up over her and the lights turned out, and then sleep claimed her.

* * *

Nancy was pissed. No, she was beyond pissed. She was downright furious. Steve hadn’t been a flaky jerk like this since - since before everything. She thought he was better now, but clearly not.

She strode through the doors of the gym, staring him down. God, he was pretty, even when he was covered in sweat, but she refused to let that distract her from her righteous fury.

“Steve.”

He followed her out to the alleyway between two parts of the school then crossed his arms and slouched. “What are you doing here?” he asked, halfway between tired and angry, which was ridiculous, because she was the one who should be angry.

“What do you think?” she demanded. “Where were you this morning? I missed first period!” He’d driven her to school every single day since the year started, and every day last year too. She wasn’t prepared for him to just...disappear like that.

“Figured Jonathan would take you,” he stated flatly, and it felt like an accusation even though it didn’t exactly sound like it.

Her heart beat wildly around her chest, crashing into her ribs and her spine like a yo-yo. She didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t want to know. But Nancy was strong, and Nancy was not wishy-washy, and Nancy was still more than a little offended, so she demanded, “What are you talking about?”

Steve scoffed. “Jesus. You really can’t handle your alcohol.” He looked around, at the field, at the bricks, anywhere but her, and she wanted to just grab his face and make him look at her. “You remember going to Tina’s party last night?”

“Yes,” she said, exasperated, wondering what the hell this was about.

“And then what?” he asked, like it was some kind of trick question.

She wracked her memory, trying to fill in the fuzzy bits. She was not a mess. She was not. “I remember dancing, and...I spilled some punch...You got mad at me because I was drunk.” Which may have been fair, but also, did not feel fair to Nancy. “And then you took me home.”

He scoffed again, looking away completely, whipping the towel off his shoulder. “No, see, that’s where your mind gets a little fuzzy,” he replied, and she could see some of the Old Steve peeking through, bitter and cruel Steve. He closed his eyes and exhaled. “That was your other boyfriend. That was Jonathan.”

It was words she’d never dreamed of hearing, spoken in the worst possible way. It felt like someone was stabbing her. “I don’t understand.” God, what did she do last night?

“It’s pretty simple, Nancy; you were just telling it like it is.” He wouldn’t look at her, preoccupied with the ground, and she could feel his hurt rolling off him in waves, his hurt and his bitter, and it was twisting her stomach but the worst part was she had no idea what he was talking about.

“What?”

“Uh, apparently,” he began slowly, running through a mental list in his head, gesturing with his towel. “We killed Barb, and I don’t care, cuz I’m bullshit, and our whole relationship is bullshit, and...I mean pretty much everything is just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.” He ticked each word off on his fingers. “Oh, yeah, and also you don’t love me.”

Hearing all her darkest worries spoken aloud, spat back at her like this, distorted from her nightmares...she wanted to wake up, but she couldn’t.

Because this was real, because she’d gotten drunk and drunk made her vulnerable and put the broken bits on the outside for everyone to see. Especially one of the people who mattered most to her.

“Steve, I was drunk,” she protested, filling her voice with as much anger as possible. It was easier to be angry than sad or vulnerable. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“So that makes everything that you said what? It’s just bullshit too?” he demanded.

“Yes!” It wasn’t, but it wasn’t real, either. It was the equivalent of her dad trying to cook chicken: looked done on the outside, pink on the inside, and when you gave it to someone, you made them sick.

“Well, then, tell me.” Desperation crept into his voice.

God, what did she have to do? “Tell you what?”

“You love me.” His voice cracked.

“Really?” She was offended on the outside, but on the inside, she was cutting herself on every broken piece. God, she didn’t know, she’d never known, she thought she loved him but she loved Jonathan too and what did that mean? And how could she even think about love when the world was on fire all the time?

One of Steve’s teammates crashed through the door. “Harrington! We need you, man, that douchebag is killing us! Let’s go!”

Nancy wanted to flip him off, or punch him, or something, because this was between her and Steve and this was important and she didn’t know how to fix it.

“Alright.” Steve looked at her once more, and suddenly it was her that couldn’t meet his gaze.

He sighed, walking away. “I think you’re bullshit.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, but he was already gone. Still, the gaps in her memory were concerning, so she did the only thing she could think to: find Jonathan.

He was sitting on the hood of his car, and he had snacks. She flopped unceremoniously down next to him.

“Hey, Nance.” He gave her a soft smile and her heart melted. She wanted to kiss him - and since Steve had just broken up with her, she guessed she could’ve. But she didn’t.

And then it all just came pouring out of her, and she very admirably did not cry, but she wanted to. She wanted him to hold her.

He filled her in on little things she didn’t remember, like him carrying her into the car or the way she told him he was pretty. He was smiling shyly at his hands when he said that, and Nancy wasn’t sure he’d meant to tell her that.

“So...he asked you to bring me home?” she asked doubtfully, because Steve hadn’t seemed particularly interested in her well-being.

“Yeah,” Jonathan answered, a bit too quickly, but she didn’t want to seem paranoid. “Yeah. He was upset. I mean...he was really upset.” He had something like sympathy on his face, which was ridiculous, because Steve and Jonathan hated each other, she could never get them to hang out together.

It made her guilty, and she couldn’t look at him.

“But he was still worried about you,” Jonathan promised, gesturing with his sandwich.

She didn’t speak.

He leaned closer, and she wanted to kiss him - or him to kiss her or something - but instead he offered her reassuring words about people saying stupid things when they’re wasted, things they don’t mean.

“But that’s the thing.” She shook her head. “What if I did mean it?” She didn’t know why she asked it out loud, didn’t know why she let Jonathan see the vulnerable broken bits, but maybe it was him and not Steve at all, maybe she could just be with him and be happy and forget the stupid broken bits. “All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like everything is fine, but it’s not. I feel like there’s this - I dunno, this...” But she couldn’t find the words, grasping helplessly at thin air.

“Like there’s this weight you’re carrying around with you,” Jonathan finished, saving her, and oh god she loved him. He got her. “All the time. I feel it too.”

But still. Nancy shook her head. “It’s different for you. Will came home.” It sounded meaner out loud than in her head, but Jonathan didn’t frown at her, didn’t chastise her for the way she seemed to be hurting everyone she loved these days.

He just nodded. “Yeah. He did. But he’s not the same.” He sighed, knitting his fingers together and then taking them apart. He was sitting cross legged on the hood of the car, staring off into the distance. It wasn’t even really about Nancy anymore. “I try to help but...I dunno…”

He sighed, turning back towards Nancy with a shrug. “Maybe things just can’t go back to the way they were.”

Her eyebrows went all the way up. “Doesn’t that make you mad?” she demanded.

“Mad?” he asked, and sure there were other emotions she could’ve fixated on, but anger was easy.

“Yeah, that those...people who did this, who ruined so many lives...they just get away with it!” It wasn’t entirely what she meant. She didn’t even want to go back to how things were, not really. But she didn’t like someone else making that choice for her, either.

Jonathan leaned in, trying to calm her down, and for a moment he wore the same look as Steve at the party last night and she hated it. “The people responsible for this are dead.”

“Do you really believe that?” Nancy leaned in to meet him, but it was confrontational to his placating.

He wouldn’t look her in the eye, then. She sighed and looked away, too, frustrated with him and the world and everything, and then her eyes fell on a small walkman and she had an idea.

“Your mom’s boyfriend. He works at Radio Shack, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Jonathan shook his head. “Why?” She didn’t answer right away, so he asked, “What are you thinking?”

“Do you want to skip fourth period?”

* * *

It was crazy. They got the recording, and they turned out okay, and the Doctor underestimated them because they were only seventeen, but joke was on him because Nancy was going to burn his fucking operation to the ground.

Jonathan pulled up to the so-called Motor Motel with a flickering red ‘Vacancy’ sign that would be on for three seconds, off for one, on for two, off for two, and so on. There were two adult men standing out front and Nancy didn’t really want to look at them or deal with them but she also knew she could probably kill them if she really wanted, which made her feel safer. The Doctor had never checked her bag; if he had, he would’ve found the walkman and her gun, the kit that made Nancy deadly.

It was dark outside, and cold, and wet, and she held onto her purse, refusing to look at anyone outside. Jonathan opened the door for her, which she appreciated, and they stepped into the Motel’s sickly-lit lobby, coming to stand in front of the desk. The woman behind it was reading a novel of some sort and pointedly ignored the two of them.

Nancy glanced at Jonathan. Then, she hit the bell.

The woman still didn’t look at them.

“We’d like...uh...a room?” Nancy explained, and it came out far less confident than she’d wanted it to.

“We got those.” She lifted a cigarette. “You want a single or a double?” Her eyes finally drifted over to appraise them, her mouth in a tight line pulling downwards.

“Double,” they both stammered at the same time.

She slurped a soda from Hardee’s as her eyebrows migrated behind her bangs. Nancy could feel the judgment and she did not appreciate it.

Nancy had brought pajamas, because she was nothing if not prepared. She didn’t know if Jonathan had brought his own because she disappeared into the bathroom to change, and by the time she emerged, he was already sitting awkwardly tucked up into bed, only a brown t-shirt showing.

She climbed into the other bed and, without meaning to, mirrored his pose.

They sat in silence for awhile, listening to the cars go by on the highway. Jonathan kept looking at her, and she kept looking at her hands, and this stupid dance made her itchy but she wasn’t going to demand he say whatever it was he was thinking. If he wanted to, he would.

“Nance?” he asked, getting her to look over at him. He made a grab at the light switch. “Um. On or off?”

She hummed, and she couldn’t help the nostalgic smile. It was fond, mixed with sad, mixed with bitter.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just...deja vu.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah.”

After a little more awkward silence, she finally mustered the courage to ask, “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“What?”

“How we only seem to hang out when the world’s about to end?” She missed him, she realized with a start, missed him so damn much and was angry that he avoided her and Steve but sad, too, and mostly just...like she said, it was weird.

“It’s not going to end,” he protested.

She cocked her head. “Feels like it.”

The scar on her palm felt like a heartbeat, sometimes, and she knew it was more mental than anything, but it was reassuring. She flipped around to lean over the nightstand. “Still have yours?” she demanded.

“Yeah.” He leaned right back, sliding his palm next to hers, and gave her a heart-melting grin.

“Hm.” She tsked. “Mine’s bigger.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

God, she wanted to kiss him.

Her smile dropped and she pulled her hand back awkwardly. This was ridiculous. She shouldn’t. She shuffled under the covers and Jonathan did the same, but she didn’t turn away.

She curled her arm around her pillow. “What happened?” she whispered, not quite sure why she asked, but desperately burning for the answer.

“What?”

“To us. You know, after everything, you just...disappeared.” Maybe if he hadn’t, things would be different. Maybe if he hadn’t, she’d have been with him instead, no blowout fight with Steve.

But probably not.

He glanced away. She thought he looked guilty, but she wasn’t sure. “Will needed me,” he sighed. Then it was her turn to glance away. “And Steve…” he added, as if reading her thoughts.

“I waited,” she protested, which was partly true, but if she was really, truly serious, she hadn’t been willing to give up on Steve back then.

“Like...only a month,” he replied, which stung, cut her down to the same place the words “Nancy the Slut Wheeler” were engraved on her heart. Everyone wanted her to choose, acted like it was easy. Acted like inertia wasn’t the only thing that drove her, these days.

She turned over and yanked the blankets over herself. There was no reason they couldn’t have stayed friends.

“I want them off,” she replied testily.

He clicked the light switch like she asked, and the distance between them felt all-consuming.

* * *

The place Jonathan drove up to looked less like a house and more like a storage space. Or a doomsday bunker. A beat-up red van was parked outside and there was a single yellow chair, like the kind you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room, sitting out front of a warehouse-like door. There was junk everywhere, and dead leaves littered the driveway.

“Are you positive this is the right place?” he asked, sounding both tired and unconvinced.

“3833,” Nancy read off a piece of paper. “Yeah.” She was as tired as he was. Neither of them had slept well in that motel. She was lonely, and she kept having nightmares. She’d wager he was the same, at least in nightmares. It must be hard, being away from Will and his mother.

He looked at her. “Alright.” He yanked the key out of the ignition with just a bit more force than necessary and gave her a nod, like he was building up his bravado. He was so transparent sometimes, and she loved that about him.

They slid out of the car, leaves crunching under their feet. In the distance, Nancy could hear a train rumbling along the tracks and blowing its horn. An obnoxious sound. The door read “Keep Door Closed” in poorly-lettered spray paint, which was probably trying to seem imposing but mostly seemed sad to Nancy.

“Keep Door Closed.” She ought to write that on her damn heart.

Jonathan pressed the buzzer, which made an ungodly sound, and then a man’s tinny voice directed them to “Look at the camera!”

“What camera?” Jonathan asked, bending down a little to examine the buzzer.

“Not the loudspeaker. The camera. To the right!” The man’s frustration was unmistakable, but Nancy couldn’t be bothered to feel bad about it.

She and Jonathan looked up, catching the camera at the same moment. Talk about paranoid.

The door rattled and a rather unimpressive man in an oversized open sweater - or was it a robe? - over a dingy wife-beater and an unkempt beard stood to appraise them. “Nancy Wheeler. Jonathan Byers. You two are far from home.” He stepped aside to let them in.

Nancy glanced back once at Jonathan before quickly entering the maze of Murray’s domain. She opted to think of it as a domain, because no other word seemed accurate. It was tight and claustrophobic, poorly lit and cluttered. There was an American flag hanging off the wall and an orange gate between the hallway and the next room. Doomsday bunker hadn’t been a far off description.

“I hope you didn’t come all the way here to tell me about the bear in the Harrington kid’s backyard.” Murray turned around to face them. “I’ve heard that one already.” Then he turned away and lead them to a wall that slid open.

This was so weird.

“Take a look, don’t be shy.” His voice had a patronizing edge to it, the kind that made Nancy want to knee him in all his sensitive spots. But she entered the room, looking around at the wild conspiracy board he had up, complete with the pushpins and red string. If this guy wasn’t onto something, she’d probably call him nuts.

“I’ve followed up on 200 tips, most bogus, but that’s how these things always go, okay?” There was a picture of Eleven on the wall, sketched by God-knew-who, and the newspaper clipping of Will’s disappearance. “I know every last step Barbara took that day, every last person she talked to.” There were a bunch of pictures of Barb, not Barbara, on the wall, pictures that made Nancy’s heart hurt like it was November 1983 all over again. “The answer of what happened to your friend, it’s up here somewhere, I assure you that. I just need to connect the right dots.” The last part was slow, deliberate, filled with intensity.

Fuck him. “Timeline’s wrong.” Nancy said it matter-of-factly, feeling only all little smug.

“I’m sorry?” He sounded somewhere between unimpressed and offended.

Okay, maybe it was more than a little smug. She turned to face him. “Your timeline,” she repeated, “is wrong.” She didn’t smirk, only let her eyebrows crease. “And the girl with the buzzed hair, she’s not Russian, she’s from Hawkins lab. Her name was Eleven.”

Murray was looking at her, baffled, disbelieving, but somewhere in that head of his, she’d wager he knew she wasn’t bullshitting him. Her face was set, features proud, and she met his gaze easily, daring him to challenge.

“You...might want to sit down for this,” Jonathan suggested, ever the soft one.

So he did. Murray sat down on a dingy striped couch, staring unamused at them as Nancy clicked on the tape. As Brenner’s words played, however, his face turned to a new emotion; by the end of the tape, the patronizing look was finally gone, replaced by something rather akin to shellshock.

“Is it enough?” Nancy asked. Murray didn’t respond, though he looked up at her and blinked rapidly. “The tape recording. Is it enough? Is it incriminating?” she demanded, hoping he’d say something, anything.

Instead, he stood up and walked out of the room.

Nancy and Jonathan glanced at each other, then followed him. They found him in the kitchen with some ice and some vodka. “What are you doing?” Nancy was horrified. Judgmental. Frustrated. This was not the reaction she’d been expecting.

“Thinking,” he replied.

“With Vodka?” She was sure her disbelief was palpable. She wanted to slap Murray.

“It’s a central nervous system depressant. So yes, with vodka.” He was being patronizing again, but there was a harder edge to it. Maybe...fear? If the man felt such emotions. He shook the - the - whatever the fuck you called the thing you mixed drinks in, Nancy did not have time for this bullshit.

And then he migrated elsewhere with his glass.

“Music, really?” Nancy couldn’t believe him.

“Yes. It helps me…”

“What, think?” Jonathan supplied. It was the first word he’d said since they played the whole recording, the first sign he showed of any sort of impatience or annoyance. She appreciated it.

The opening strains of some old jazz record filled the air and he picked up his drink, beginning to pace. Finally, Nancy couldn’t take it anymore. “How long is this going to take?” She strode towards him.

“Longer, if you keep talking.”

“It’s a simple question. Is it incriminating or not?”

Murray started to laugh, but it was devoid of humor. He turned back to look her dead in the eye. “There’s nothing simple about it. Nothing simple about anything you’ve told me.”

“You don’t believe us, do you?” Jonathan challenged, moving closer to Nancy.

“I believe you, but that’s not the problem. You don’t need me to believe you, you need them to believe you.” He gestured wildly with his glass of vodka.

“Them?” Jonathan asked.

“Them. With a capital T.” Murray held his glass out, arm parallel to the ground, and began pacing again, this time over to a wall of TVs. “Your priest, your postman, your teacher. The world at large.” He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “They won’t believe any of this.”

Like she hadn’t anticipated this. “That’s why we made the tape,” Nancy explained, exasperated. How could he not get that? He was a journalist, here was proof.

“Oh, that’s easy to bury. Easy.”

“He admits it,” she protested. “You heard it! He admits culpability.” This had to be enough. It had to. She’d lost too much else - Barb, and now Steve, and most of all, her sanity.

“You’re being naive, Nancy!” Murray shouted right back. “Those people...they’re not wired like you and me, okay?” The way he said the word ‘wired’ sent tingles down her spine, and she was loath to be lumped in any group with this man. And why not Jonathan? “They don’t spend their lives trying to get a look at what’s behind the curtain. They like the curtain,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “It provides them stability, comfort, definition. This...would open the curtain, and open the curtain behind that one, okay? So the minute anyone with an ounce of authority says it’s bullshit, they’ll go, ‘See? Ha! I knew it was bullshit.’” His voice kept increasing in ferocity and volume. “That is, if we even get their attention at all.”

But anger and passion were a game Nancy knew well, and her mother gave her a pair of lungs for screaming right back. “So you’re saying we did all of this for nothing?” she demanded. If this was useless, she wanted to go home, maybe give Mike a hug, go out into the woods and shoot something until the fury left her body through her fingertips and her bullets.

“I’m saying I’m thinking,” Murray spat back, taking a dramatic drink of his vodka. He winced, grunted, and headed back to the kitchen.

Nancy wanted to scream. She was surprised she wasn’t already screaming.

“This is ridiculous,” Jonathan grumbled.

“That’s it. That’s it,” Murray muttered to himself.

Nancy strode over quickly. “What’s it?”

“It’s just too strong. Too strong.” He poured what looked like sparkling water into his glass and sipped it, smacking his lips. “Better.”

He kept pouring. She rolled her eyes, and Jonathan walked away, probably equally as exasperated. Of course he was only talking about the alcohol. Useless goddamn drunk.

...Unless he wasn’t.

“Perfect,” he declared.

She leaned in, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips. “We water it down.”

He looked almost proud as he leaned back to meet her. “Precisely.”

“Wait, what?” Jonathan came back to hear their discovery, but Nancy was in her own world, on Murray’s wavelength. Scheming. Finally close to success.

“Your story. We moderate it.” The kitchen was alive with electric excitement, purpose, cabinets clanging and drink sloshing. “Just like this drink here. We make it more tolerable.” Murray twirled his hands and poured more liquid. “Perhaps Barbara was exposed to some dangerous toxins.”

Barb. “A leak from the lab,” Nancy suggested. “Like Three Mile Island or something.”

“Something scary but familiar.” He slammed two glasses of vodka down in front of them. “Close enough that it hits the man right where it hurts.”

Should she accept alcohol from this man? This crazy drunk reporter detective man who acted like it was perfectly normal to offer watered down vodka to seventeen-year-olds? Her gut said no, especially after what happened the last time she drank. But Nancy also didn’t care. “And those asshole that killed Barb…” She picked up the glass.

“They’ll go down.”

She took a long sip, and Jonathan followed.

So they drank, and they recorded tapes, and they addressed mail, and they drank some more, and Nancy found herself sliding closer and closer to the kind of drunk where nothing could touch her and she felt like she could save the world.

“To taking down the man,” Murray toasted, and Nancy and Jonathan echoed it back to him. Jonathan winced as he took his sip, but Nancy drained her glass with ease.

“Commie bastards sure know how to make a spirit, am I right?” Murray declared, reaching forward for more.

This was...not a conversation Nancy had ever expected to have with an adult. God, if her parents knew she drank...but Murray was pretty cool, and treated her like an adult, and she enjoyed it. It was about damn time someone did.

He poured them more glasses. “Ohhh, no, no, we can’t,” Nancy protested, though she kind of wanted to get plastered beyond belief.

“I’ve got to drive,” Jonathan added.

“Drive? Tonight?” Murray laughed.

Nancy swallowed. “Our parents -”

“Would be proud if they knew what you were up to.” He leaned back in his recliner. “Just tell em you’re at Tammy’s or Dawn’s or whoever’s and take my guest room.”

God, he was like, the worst influence. He reminded Nancy of her dad’s jackass brother who hadn’t been to Thanksgiving in four years. Except Murray had redeeming qualities.

“I mean, do you wanna stay?” Jonathan whispered.

She bit her lip. “It is pretty late…” She didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want the adventure to be over, to stop feeling so useful. For the first time in a year she’d felt like she was finally getting stuff done; she couldn’t give that up now.

“Okay. Uh, can I use the sofa?” Jonathan asked.

She was a twinge disappointed, but that was for the best.

“Okay, I’m confused. What’s going on here? Lover’s quarrel?” Murray arched his eyebrows and Nancy felt rather judged.

“No, no, we’re just...we’re just friends.” Their protests overlapped. At least they were on the same page.

Murray started cracking up. Nancy felt her mouth drift towards a frown, “You’ve told me a lot of shockers today,” he said between laughs, “but that, that is the first lie.”

“It’s not a lie,” Nancy protested uncomfortably. Who the fuck did he think he was?

“No? You’re young, attractive, you’ve got chemistry, history, plus the real shit, shared trauma.” He spread his hands. Nancy found that she couldn’t look at him or Jonathan. God, he really was like her stupid fucking uncle. “Trust issues, am I right? Something to do with your dad?”

“What? No. I mean, my dad’s - my dad’s -” Jonathan started, floundering.

“An asshole,” Nancy cut in. Worse than hers. Nobody got divorced in Hawkins, but if Karen Wheeler was on your side for a divorce, you know the other guy was bad. But that proved nothing.

Murray shook his head, smiling smugly. “Hmmm. It is a curse to see so clearly.”

Bastard. The alcohol made her want to fight him, but she was sober enough to know that was a bad idea.

“You,” Murray added, looking at Nancy now. She stared back at him skeptically through her bangs, thinking every insult she could at him. A pity, as they’d been getting on so well for awhile. “You’re harder to read. Probably like everyone, afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for who you really are and retreated back to the safety of...Name? Name?” He snapped at them.

“Steve,” Jonathan cut in.

Fucking traitor. She glared at him.

“Oh. Steve, we like Steve.”

“Yes!”

“But we don’t love Steve.”

The floor was falling out from under her. We don’t love Steve, don’t love, don’t love, don’t love, can’t love, how could she love him? How could she love Jonathan?

“What?” she protested, scrambling desperately to regain control of the situation. “We - I mean, I do.” Jonathan was looking at her, curious and accusatory and - maybe guilty? God, she didn’t know, she didn’t know anything.

“There it is, ladies and germs.” He pointed straight at her. “The second lie of the evening.”

She wanted to just...crumble away into ashes. She was already broken, how hard could it be to just break down a little further? There was nothing inside of her, no love, no hope, no purpose anymore. Just broken broken pieces of a girl that couldn’t love who’d lost the only person that understood her.

“So, how’d I do?” Murray asked, chuckling, like he hadn’t just triggered a massive existential crisis. Nancy glanced over at Jonathan, but then quickly away, and the room was still making her dizzy. “My, you two are adorable.” He levered himself out of the recliner. “Listen. There’s a pull out sofa in my study if you want it. But if I were you,” he added from the stairs, “I’d just cut the bullshit and share the damn bed.”

They did not, as Murray suggested, “cut the bullshit,” but rather separated without even saying good night, without looking at each other, without any resolution. Nancy felt like a goddamn livewire, humming with nervous energy and existential dread as she put on her nightgown.

“Afraid,” she muttered to herself, full of bitterness. She wasn’t afraid. She’d made her peace with the way she was, being broken. She’d decided she would be good at it.

She tossed and turned angrily. Fucking Murray didn’t know a fucking thing.

Except.

Except there was one guaranteed way to shut her brain up, and it relied on Murray being right - about Jonathan, at least. There was no way the man could ever begin to understand her brain, no matter how similar he wanted to think they were.

“I don’t retreat,” she mumbled, shoving herself up out of bed and out the door. She was going to find Jonathan and she was going to kiss him until she forgot her own name and it’d make everything a little bit better for awhile.

Except when she met him in the living room, her resolve died in her heart, the same way it always did, and they muttered some awkward things about how drunk Murray was and how awkward it was.

“I mean, what? He knows us for a couple of hours and he’s got us all figured out?” Jonathan scoffed, crossing his arms. He looked like he was trying to recede in on himself like a turtle.

Murray sure as hell didn’t, but oh well. “Exactly. I’m glad you feel the same way.” Nancy smiled awkwardly. God, what? This was the opposite of what she’d intended.

There were a few more awkward ‘yeah’s as she watched the shadows play across his face, and then they said good night and turned back towards their respective rooms.

She sat on her bed with a pillow in her lap and a bunch of loud thoughts ricocheting around inside her skull. Mission failed, brain still haywire.

She did love him. Or at the very least, she wanted him, even if her heart was divided. She wanted him.

She got up again, threw open her door, and found Jonathan standing there. Before she could say anything, he leaned down and he kissed her, and it held every inch of needy rawness she was feeling.

They broke apart, stared at each other, and then she kissed him back.

Love was a big messy complicated painful thing for Nancy, but at the very least, she could have this.

Chapter Text

“I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but it turns out I’m a damn good babysitter.”

The words kept rattling around inside her head. He wasn’t a shitty boyfriend.

“It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay.”

And it wasn’t okay.

She had gone. She had done what Steve said and she had gone. And it hadn’t been okay, not at all, because fucking Billy Hargrove had shown up and all Nancy could think about was if she’d been there, god, if she’d been there, she’d have put a bullet in each knee before he could start his shit and Lucas wouldn’t be traumatized and her ex wouldn’t have head trauma and Max wouldn’t have had to inhabit someone bigger and older and scarier than herself just to get the basic human decency of being left alone. Maybe they would’ve been safe.

But it was good to be there with Will and Jonathan and Joyce, too, to support them and hold Jonathan while he hurt, while Will screamed. It hurt her too, but Jonathan needed her. Just as much as Steve did.

And that was the whole issue, wasn’t it? The universe kept trying to force Nancy to choose, and she couldn’t be in two places at once.

In the end, she didn’t even know if what they’d done in the cabin had helped at all. The image of the grey cloud - but it seemed too sentient to be a cloud - fleeing from the room and dissipating into the dark, starless sky was unshakeable. But that was when Steve - god, brave, stupid, Steve, following her idiot brother and his idiot friends into hell - had thrown the match. So who really saved Will?

God, they were so stupid, what if they’d gotten trapped on the other side when El closed the gate?

She was sitting on the porch of the Byers’ household, trying not to hyperventilate. Jonathan was inside taking care of Steve - he’d promised he would, because Nancy felt honor-bound to but couldn’t bear to look Steve in the face - and the kids were trying to readjust and calm down.

The sky was oddly peaceful for what had just occurred. There hadn’t been stars, not while they were at the cabin, but a few had peeked out now, and a sliver of crescent moon hung in the sky. Nancy had her knees tucked up to her chest, staring upwards. She wasn’t sure if she believed in heaven, but if there was one, she hoped Barb was looking down and feeling proud.

Max came outside and sat down beside her. When she leaned into Nancy, her shaking passed through the both of them.

“I hate him,” she whispered, eyes brimming with what seemed to Nancy to be frustrated tears. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” Nancy agreed. She didn’t have to ask for context; Billy had still been there when she’d returned from the cabin.

“The only reason he listened to me is because I acted like Neil.” Max bit her lip. “I don’t ever want to be like my stepdad.” She worried with a thread on her shirt, not looking at Nancy, and a single wet splotch spread across the shirt hem.

Nancy squeezed her. “You aren’t,” she promised, “because everything you did, you did to protect your friends.”

Max looked up guiltily. “Yeah, but I did it because I was angry, too.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being angry.” Nancy knew how to let anger keep her warm, clear her path. Her anger was comfort and weapon. Max deserved a little anger, too.

“He broke my skateboard. He was gonna kill Lucas. And Steve.” Max sighed. “I’m tired of him treating me like this. Neil treats him like shit, but that doesn’t mean he has to take it out on me. It’s not my fault.” Her voice cracked.

Truer words had perhaps never been spoken.

“I’m your big sister now,” Nancy declared with finality. “All of us, we’re your real family, and we’re gonna take good care of you, I promise.” She may not be able to do romantic love properly, but she loved these kids like they were her own babies, and in a way, they were.

“Thanks.” Max pushed herself off the porch. “I should probably have Mrs. Byers call my mom. I’m already dead enough as it is.”

“Anyone tries to lay a hand on you, I end them,” Nancy promised.

Max laughed. “Thank you.”

Lucas came out next, passing Max with a squeezed hand as she went in the house. He walked past Nancy and stared off the edge, over the railing, out into the trees. His shoulders were quivering, tense like a bowstring, and he dry heaved over the side railing.

This was easier than being alone with her thoughts. Nancy could put all her problems in a box if the kids needed something.

She walked over to the railing and reached out to rub Lucas’ back. He flinched away, then looked at her with guilty panic. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, my fault.” Nancy dropped her hand and simply leaned next to him, staring out at the trees, too. Her mind wanted to find shapes running between them, but it was over now. “He messed you up badly, huh?”

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Lucas whispered, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. “I mean, he said he was going to kill me. If not for Max…”

This thirteen-year-old had faced down monsters from another dimension, but a racist high school bully was what really scared him. Nancy again wished she’d been there to pull the trigger on Hargrove. No one hurt the people she loved.

“It’s messed up,” she agreed. “There’s no excuse.”

Lucas swallowed. “I think he’ll leave us alone now.” He nodded towards the driveway, which was empty of Billy’s Camarro. They hadn’t wanted to let the half-drugged teenager drive, but he’d been screaming profanities and threatening them all, so in the end, no one really stopped him from going. There were bigger things to deal with. “But I’m still…”

Nancy sighed. “This isn’t the kind of thing that goes away easy. But we’re here for you. I will face him down and end him, just say the word.” Her hands squeezed the railing just a bit too tight and the old wood bit into her palms.

He nodded, giving her a tiny, appreciative smile. “I’m...I think I need a hug from Ms. Byers,” he admitted, and Nancy didn’t blame him. Joyce gave the best hugs, the kind that made you feel like nothing would ever go wrong again now that she was around.

She gave him a tiny salute goodbye and he offered her a thin smile in return.

As the door banged closed behind him, she was left alone with her thoughts again, just her and the cold November air and her shirt that was still covered in sticky sweat. Without thinking too hard, she stripped it off and tossed it frustratedly somewhere off to the side, then sat down heavily on the steps again.

Nancy tried to focus on her breathing. That was what Barb had always told her, whenever Nancy was having a panic attack. Think about something that’s real. Think about breathing.

The door clicked open, softer this time, and Will sat down heavily beside her. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact she was shirtless and realized that she’d probably just made a stupid decision.

“I can, uh, put my shirt back on.” She couldn’t quite look at him as she said it, focusing intently on the trees.

Will shrugged. “I don’t really care.”

Should she be shirtless around one of her younger brother’s friends? Around her maybe-sort-of “haven’t talked about it” boyfriend’s younger brother?

“I really don’t care,” Will repeated, as if reading her thoughts. “Besides, I don’t...like girls like that. And you’re like my big sister. So it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Nancy was taken aback by how casually he said it.

Will sighed, burying his face in his knees. “You know what’s stupid? I just had a weird monster thing burned out of my body, but seeing Mike and El together hurts almost as bad.” He sighed. “I feel pathetic.”

Nancy shrugged. “That’s love, I guess.” It didn’t take much guesswork to know Will liked Mike; Nancy had sort of thought so long before Will mentioned any of this.

“And it’s not that I’m not happy for them, you know?” he added. “I love seeing Mike happy. And Eleven. But...I’ve wanted to kiss him since I was ten years old. That’s really hard.”

Nancy nodded, pulling him into a hug. “Yeah.”

“It’s like Jonathan seeing you with Steve all the time. He’s happy you’re happy, but he loves you, too.” Will sighed. Nancy didn’t much know what to say to that, amused by Will’s perspective. “Feelings are hard.”

“Yeah. Thank you for trusting me,” she replied, which sounded kind of silly, but it’d have to do.

“Jonathan said he was pretty sure you like girls, so I’d be okay.” Will sighed again. “So now it’s just you, Mom, and Jonathan that know.”

She wondered how Jonathan knew she liked girls. She didn’t think she gave off any sort of indicators...but then again, she’d always thought that maybe he was like her in that way, too. Maybe they just knew each other by feel.

“He’s right,” Nancy replied. “I do like girls.”

“Did you ever feel like that was wrong?” Will asked curiously.

She nodded. “Before I told Barb. But there’s nothing wrong with liking girls or boys or both.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Mom knew already. She said she was queer, so she knew her kids would turn out queer too.” He hugged his knees tighter. “She always says there’s nothing wrong with me, but she and Jonathan are the only ones who say that.”

“And now me,” Nancy added.

Will rewarded her with a smile. “But a lot of the kids at school make fun of me because I draw and I’m not good at sports. They don’t even know I like boys, but it doesn’t matter to them. I’m bad at being a boy anyway.” He sighed.

“There’s no ‘right’ way to be a boy,” Nancy countered. “Look at Jonathan. He’s a boy. But he takes photos and he’s soft.”

“And he cries at sad movies,” Will added with a smile. “And makes mixtapes and gives hugs.”

“And can’t catch a ball or shoot a gun,” Nancy finished. “He’s just a different kind of boy. So are you. And I’m a girl who shoots a gun and likes science and girls and won’t shut up and wants to get the hell out of this town and make something of myself. We are what we are.”

“That makes sense.” Will shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, but it’s hard to hold onto that when so many other people disagree.”

“Your friends won’t care,” Nancy said automatically, but she knew it was true. “And they’re the people that matter. You can tell them and they’ll support you. And Eleven will probably do something psychic and badass if anyone gives you trouble.” Nancy grinned, but it was like a wolf, filled with dark humor and protective aggression. “I’d offer to help, but I have a rule against shooting middle schoolers.”

“You can be scary.” But Will smiled, because he needed someone on his side to be a little scary.

Nancy grinned back, starting to shiver, and went to retrieve her shirt. “I do my best.”

* * *

“You are sad,” Jane - formerly known as Eleven - said one day. “All the time.”

Nancy wanted to protest, but then, what was the use in lying to a psychic thirteen-year-old?

“Yeah,” she replied, flipping through her magazine. “What about this one?” she asked, offering the magazine towards where the girl sat on the floor and pointing to a magenta pink dress.

Jane shook her head, but declined to elaborate on why she didn’t want to wear it to the Snow Ball. “Why...sad? The Upside Down is closed and we are safe.” She cocked her head to the side, staring at Nancy. “I’m sad because I miss my sister. Why are you sad?”

“Sister?” Nancy asked.

“Kali,” Jane said, like that clarified everything, even though it definitely didn’t. “Why are you sad?” she asked again.

Nancy took a deep breath, made a note to ask about Kali later, then put the magazine down on the bed and swung herself into a sitting position to really look Jane in the eye. “Sometimes, people are just broken on the inside.” Broken to bits, all messy, in ways that can’t be fixed with a teenage psychic or even a miracle.

“Like me?” Jane asked, suddenly filled with worry.

Nancy reached out to clasp Jane’s hands, shaking her head so the younger girl would understand this was not about her. “No. You’re perfect, Jane.” It had been surprisingly easy to adapt to her new name, and it was a lot like having another kid sister. “People like me. Broken on the inside, always sad, nothing is ever enough. Even when things are safe and better, like now. I can’t have everything I want, so life is just...constant compromise.”

Jane nodded sagely. “Halfway happy,” she said with great solemnity.

‘Halfway happy.’ Nancy liked that one, and smiled in spite of herself. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’m only ever halfway happy.”

“Jonathan doesn’t...make you all the way happy?” Jane asked shyly. Nancy knew that the girl didn’t know a whole lot about...anything, really, but Jane did watch so much TV, and being in love was supposed to make you feel really happy. All the way happy, according to everyone.

But it didn’t. Not for Nancy. And who even knew what was going on with her and Jonathan.

She felt ashamed, but she shook her head no. “I still want someone else,” she answered, whispering. The conversation didn’t have to go this way, it could’ve gone a million different ways, about the Upside Down or Barb or trauma or wanting to get out of this stupid town. But it didn’t. Jane had mentioned Jonathan, and then the secret had come spilling out, and it felt so damn good to say it, even though Nancy was waiting for Jane’s inevitable rejection.

And then something curious. “Mike doesn’t make me all the way happy, either,” Jane admitted in no more than a whisper, tears threatening to spill. “Maybe...I’m broken, too.”

Nancy realized with a start she was not the only one who felt like this. And the way Jane looked like she was going to cry, Nancy knew suddenly she had to take charge. No child of hers was allowed to feel broken.

“No,” she answered, with strength and conviction she’d never felt before. “I was wrong. Neither of us are broken. And maybe” - her voice caught, because never in her life had she dared to hope like this - “maybe we can be all the way happy.”

“That sounds nice,” Jane said, rubbing at her eyes. She pointed to a blue dress with polka dots in the pages of the magazine that had fallen open. “That one.”

It was precious, and quirky, and definitely Jane’s style. “I’ll buy it when I’m out with Max,” Nancy declared, because she had already offered to take Max shopping.

Jane pouted, and Nancy knew she wanted to go with the two of them, but Hopper had been very clear - and in Nancy’s honest opinion, very fair - about what was and was not going to happen with regards to the Snow Ball. She had to lay low for a whole year, according to Owens when he’d handed Hopper the fake birth certificate, but there was no way she was missing the dance.

“I want to go,” Jane demanded.

Nancy shook her head. “That’s not an argument I can win with Hopper, dear.”

Jane rolled her eyes very dramatically, making Nancy giggle. “I want to see Max.”

“What if I got Max over here? And you girls could hang out.” Nancy knew it was a compromise, but she hoped halfway happy was enough for now, because she stood by her assertion that Hopper would not budge.

Jane’s eyes lit up. “Can I kiss her?” she asked, unabashed.

Nancy nearly choked. “Not without asking Mike,” she replied. “Or Max,” she added after a beat. “They both need to say it’s okay.”

The girl frowned. “But you said I can be all the way happy.”

“Not without work, though.” Nancy shook her head. “You have to - you have to talk to people. You can only get what you want if you ask for it, especially if it involves other people.”

It was Nancy’s issue, too. If she ever wanted the Steve-Jonathan nonsense to get worked out, she had to ask about it, except Steve had broken up with her and she was still mad about it and Jonathan wouldn’t let on whether they were dating or not, and nobody seemed to be doing much talking at all.

“Okay. Then I will talk.” Jane nodded once, sharply. “Can I wear boots?”

Nancy had whiplash. “What?”

“With the dress. Boots are comfortable and practical,” Jane explained, as if that was the part Nancy was confused about.

The kid was...so okay with it, so quickly. She had a plan. She knew what she wanted and she knew what she was going to do. It was honestly both inspiring and kind of embarrassing considering how long Nancy had spent in angst over her own similar feelings. But if a thirteen year old government experiment child could do it, then so could Nancy.

“If you want to wear boots, wear boots,” Nancy decided. “Remember. All the way happy.”

* * *

Max was not nearly excited enough about Snow Ball shopping. And Nancy got it, because Nancy had never been particularly into long shopping trips either, but this was different.

“You have rejected every single dress, giving me no pointers on how to find something you like,” Nancy accused, dragging Max over to a couch in the corner by the fitting rooms. She had already picked out Jane’s dress, but the second half of the trip was getting nowhere.

“Nothing is cool,” Max mumbled in reply. But she was holding back.

Nancy sighed. “What is this about? Do you even want to go to the Snow Ball?” The kid sure as hell wasn’t acting like it.

“Only with Lucas…” Max sighed. “I just. I’m not...like this. I’m not girly.”

“Do you want to wear a dress?” Nancy asked.

“Not at all,” Max groaned. “But I have to.”

That was silly. Nancy shook her head. “No, you don’t. What about a skirt?” Max made a face. “Pants it is.”

“Really?” Max asked, shocked, like no one had ever given her a choice before.

“Well, yeah. I want you to be happy,” Nancy replied. And then, because it was her new life motto, she added, “All the way happy, not just a compromise. It’s a dance, it’s special. I’ll even buy you a suit if you want.”

“Mom would never let me wear one,” Max sighed, which was definitely not a no, so Nancy filed that information away for later. She held out her hand and Max took it, and they walked away from the fitting rooms and the dresses and over to see some cool clothes the kid would actually enjoy.

They found a pair of bright red pants that made Max’s whole face light up, and a nice sweater to go with it. She looked like a little genderless imp, and Nancy told her as much, which made the kid grin all the wider.

“Perfect,” she breathed. Then, shyly, she glanced at Nancy. “You think?”

“I know,” Nancy agreed definitively, pulling the teen into a hug. Max practically melted into her arms, craving the affection.

One of the most fascinating revelations about the fiery redhead had been that she was a cuddler, probably since she got nothing at home, and her friends had been more than happy to provide. Even Jonathan had been known to fall asleep next to Max on the couch, on occasion, and Steve would pick her up and swing her around until she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. They all wanted her to know how much they cared.

“Hey Nance?” Max asked tentatively, almost as though reading her mind. “Do you ever…do you ever feel empty? Like there’s something missing inside you, and all the love in the world couldn’t fill that hole?”

“Yes,” Nancy answered easily. It was so easy to talk about with the kids, shockingly easy - the only people she feared telling were Steve and Jonathan themselves. “But if you let it all in - love from everywhere, of all kinds - I think you’ll find it makes you fuller than you think.”

Max nodded against Nancy’s chest, like it was sage advice. Hopefully it didn’t sound as trite to the young one as it did once it left Nancy’s mouth.

The young teen pulled away to examine more clothes. “I want to cut my hair,” Max said suddenly, pointedly not looking at Nancy. “I want to have short hair. Like - like Jane.”

“Okay,” Nancy replied. “I can help you cut it, if you want.” She used to cut Mike’s hair, when he was little; how hard could it be? If Max wanted short hair, she would have it.

Max laughed, but it wasn’t humorous. There was a disproportionate amount of bitterness in it for someone her age. “My mom would kill me.” She ran her hand over a dark blue sweater. “That’s why we moved. Because I wanted to cut my hair short and ride my skateboard and I had friends who liked girls and my mom and Neil didn’t want me to turn out queer.”

That was more information than Nancy knew what to do with, so she just made a sympathetic noise.

“But I’m not,” Max added hastily. “Queer, I mean.” She looked at Nancy like she was waiting for the inevitable rejection.

Nancy shrugged. Before she could think too much about it, she replied, “I am.” She’d never really said it out loud, but hey, it was technically true. And it felt like Max needed to hear it.

“Oh.” Max looked a little dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Nancy picked up a pair of light blue jeans with roses all over them. “Yes or no?” she asked.

Max shook her head and Nancy put the pants back. “What if I don’t want to be girly?” Max asked abruptly. “Or even - or even a girl?”

“Okay.” Nancy did not know exactly how to respond, but she was getting used to these teenagers and their questions. “Then you don’t have to, I suppose,” she replied. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.”

“Cool,” Max replied.

The two of them fell into silence, awkwardly shuffling through clothes on the rack that neither had any intention of buying. Half of it was just avoiding taking Max home to the family that treated her so poorly.

Nancy wondered if she should say something else. Something more supportive. After all, Nancy liked girls and boys and wanted to date two, Will liked boys, Jane wanted to date multiple people too; what did it matter if Max didn’t want to be a girl?

“I like Jane,” Max blurted out, and Nancy figured that solved her conundrum. “I mean, I like Lucas a lot - I really do! - but, I like Jane too, and I want to hug her a lot, and - and dance with her, at the Snow Ball - and I like her the same way I like Lucas.” She took a deep breath. “And I don’t want to kiss either of them.”

“Okay,” Nancy replied, nodding. It seemed to be her go-to response. She wanted to say that was convenient, but she didn’t know what to say without spreading the confidences of her other kids.

In a very tiny voice, one entirely too familiar to Nancy, Max asked, “Is there something wrong with me?”

Nancy nearly tripped over the clothes rack trying to get to Max, pulling the kid into the fiercest hug she could. “Absolutely not,” Nancy declared, squeezing her tight and kissing the top of her head. “You’re perfect.”

Max snorted, like she didn’t believe that one, but she offered Nancy a tentative smile as she pulled away. “You don’t think it’s weird?” she asked.

Nancy shook her head. “I like two people, too.” Figured she may as well be the example for these kids. They seemed to like her and respect her, so if they knew she was like them, maybe they’d feel more okay with themselves.

Max’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and she nearly dropped her new clothes in excitement. “That’s why you’re so weird around Steve and Jonathan!” she exclaimed, utterly delighted that the world made more sense now.

Nancy laughed, flushing slightly. “Am I that obvious?” She glanced around nervously, but there were no other shoppers nearby.

Max shook her head quickly, dropping her voice. “I don’t think anyone else knows. I just - when you live in my family - you notice a lot of things. You have to.” She stared at the ground sheepishly. “Sorry if you didn’t want me to know that.”

“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather know,” Nancy replied, and Max rewarded her with a more genuine smile. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect just the way you are, and whoever you do or don’t like or do or don’t want to kiss is just fine. Now come on, let’s go buy these and then I’ll take you to the arcade for a bit, deal?”

“Deal!”

“You can teach me to kick butt at Dig Dug.”

“Nancy, I’m thirteen, you can say the word ‘ass.’”

“No, I can’t!” Nancy laughed, ruffling the kiddo’s hair. “I want to set a good example.”

Max looked up at her with big, starry eyes. “You’re the best example.”

* * *

It was two a.m., but instead of her window, the knocking was coming from Nancy’s bedroom door. She opened her eyes blearily, confused, but she pushed herself out of bed and opened her door. Immediately, arms wrapped around her waist and a face pressed into her stomach and Nancy wondered what kind of ungodly angle Mike was standing at to only reach that high.

“Come in,” she suggested, shuffling backwards, and he stood up off the floor, following. That explained it.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, I’ve been sitting outside your door for ten minutes worrying about waking you up -”

“Shh, Mike, it’s fine.” Nancy shook her head. She sat down heavily on the bed and patted beside her, gesturing for Mike to join her. “Nightmare?”

He nodded, sniffling with the greatest dignity he could muster. She noticed his eyes were red, but she didn’t comment on it.

They sat in silent darkness, him leaning into her side, until he finally mustered the energy to speak. “I was in the Upside Down,” he said. “And Will was there, but - but he was the Mindflayer’s puppet again - and - and he told me he hated me - and - and Eleven - and it was all my fault - that Bob was my fault because I didn’t figure it out sooner-” Mike broke off with a choked sob. “I don’t want him to hate me!”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Nancy consoled. In fact, she had it on good authority that quite the opposite was true. “And he doesn’t blame you. This dream is just...you. What you’re afraid of. Spitting it all back at you.”

“Promise?” Mike demanded, and she nodded into his head, pulling him close.

They sat like that for a little while before Nancy poked Mike. “Thank you for calming down. Like, in general.” The second ordeal with the Upside Down had mellowed him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“El’s back,” he replied. “And Will is safe. My two favorite people are okay, so I’m okay.”

“And not stealing my change anymore.”

“Steve buys me whatever I want anyway.”

Nancy rolled her eyes at the mention of her ex. “I swear, he’s spoiling you all.”

“Better than Dad,” Mike replied, and Nancy couldn’t help but agree.

They sat again in silence. “Do you still love him?” Mike asked. “Even after...everything?”

Nancy nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you love Jonathan, too. Even if you say he’s not your boyfriend.”

Nancy snorted. “You are the second teenager to tell me this. I am clearly not subtle.”

“I’m your brother, idiot, there’s nothing about you I don’t know.”

Nancy narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh yeah? When did I have my first period?”

“Grandma’s house, age fourteen. Also, gross, Nancy!” He scrunched up his face.

She scrunched hers up too. “How did you know that?”

“Told you. Brother.” He smirked triumphantly, and Nancy just couldn’t let it abide. Smug little bastard.

She rolled her shoulders, pulling out the big guns. “Okay. Who was my first crush?”

“Steve.” He rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t even hard, Nancy.”

She grinned. “You’re wrong.”

“Nuh uh! You wouldn’t shut up about him!”

“Yeah, well, I had a crush on Katie Campbell in eighth grade, but I couldn’t exactly go talking about that with Mom and Dad.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He dropped his voice. “You...you like girls?”

She nodded. “Yep. If you mention this to Mom or Dad I will murder you in your sleep. Got it?”

“I wouldn’t!” He seemed genuinely dismayed. “I - I like boys, too.”

“Oh. Cool.” Nancy, not knowing what else to do, gave him a fist bump. “Two queer Wheelers, huh?”

“I guess.” Mike stared at the floor.

Nancy laughed quietly, things inside her head clicking. “Oh my god, it’s Will, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” But Mike’s face was getting red and he was a terrible liar. “I like Eleven! She’s my girl.”

“And you like Will, too.” Nancy shrugged. “Sister, remember? There’s nothing about you I don’t know.”

He groaned, flopping back dramatically onto her bed. “Okay, well, what do I do about it? I want to kiss both of them, and it sucks.” He turned his head towards her, staring along his nose. “I don’t know why I’m asking you, you don’t have this shit figured out with Steve and Jonathan.”

“Rude!” Nancy poked him hard in the side. “My advice is to talk to Jane and Will about it. Maybe start with Jane because you two are sort-of-kind-of dating. I think she’ll be more open-minded than you think.”

Mike eyed her quizzically. “You think?”

“She didn’t grow up like we did. She grew up all on her own. So the stupid lessons like who you’re supposed to date don’t really stick the same way for her.” Nancy shrugged. “Just talk to her, dude.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Mike eyed her nervously. “Can I - can I stay here? Just in case the nightmares come back?”

Nancy smiled softly. “You got it, kid.”

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t mind, Nancy? I know it’s a Friday night, but Steve is sick…”

Nancy tucked her hair behind her ears, leaning against the open door. “It’s fine, Mrs. Sinclair, really. Enjoy your dinner.” She gave a final wave and shut it.

“I like Steve better,” Erica informed her without prompting, which was both fair and annoying.

Nancy shrugged. “Well, I’m the one you’re stuck with tonight.”

She made them Kraft Mac n Cheese for dinner, and they played Monopoly twice, which Erica won both times, and then Nancy got the kids ready for bed - Lucas required far less convincing - and then settled herself onto the couch to read a book while she waited for the Sinclair parents to get home.

It was a novel for school, The Catcher in the Rye, which she didn’t particularly enjoy, but she was getting through it, page by page.

At least, until Lucas came and sat down on the couch next to her. She closed her book and put an arm around him, which he leaned into. “Can’t sleep?” Lucas’ pajama pants were the same green camo as that bandana he always wore, which Nancy found adorable.

He shook his head. “I’m not really tired.”

The box of Monopoly was still out, but Nancy didn’t have the energy to focus on a board game, so she settled on just talking. “Excited for the dance tomorrow?” she asked.

He shrugged, but gave her a weak smile. “I’m excited to see Max,” he replied. “And the guys. And Jane.”

“I’m glad you two are friends now.” Nancy avoided the urge to pat his head, because he got annoyed last time she did that, and instead settled for a sisterly squeeze.

He shrugged again. “She’s actually cool. But Mike’s still annoying about her though.” He gave a small smile. “Man, I didn’t understand at all what was happening with him last year. I kind of still don’t, but I do a little, with Max.”

“Mike is...special,” Nancy laughed. “He doesn’t really do anything by halves.”

“I made fun of him for being all like ‘oh, El!’” He put his hands together and pitched his voice up an octave. “But now I’m kind of like that with Max. But also I’m totally not as weird as he was.”

Nancy couldn’t help cracking up. “You treat Max well.”

“I never had a crush before her. I thought maybe I had a crush on Dustin, but he’s just my best friend, I think.” Lucas shrugged again. “I don’t like him the way I like Max. But I don’t like anyone the way I like Max. I always kinda thought I’d grow up and be whatever the guy equivalent of a crazy old cat lady is, me and Dustin and a bunch of animals.”

Nancy laughed at that, picturing Lucas in a house full of cats. “You’d make an excellent Cat Dad.”

“But now I don’t know, right? Cuz she gives me butterflies. But I don’t feel the same way about Dustin that I feel about Will and Mike, either.” Lucas threw up his hands frustratedly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say any of this. But you’re easy to talk to.”

“You don’t have to know,” Nancy said. “You don’t have to have anything figured out now. Or ever, really. If you want to hug Max and dance with her, do that. If you want to kiss someone, do that. If you don’t, don’t.”

“Huh.” Lucas tilted his head. “I feel like everyone else around me already knows what they want, though.”

Nancy laughed, pulling him in for a two arm hug. “I promise you that nobody really knows, at your age or my age or even your mom’s age.”

“I don’t really want to kiss her,” Lucas said, “but everyone acts like if you like someone, you have to want to kiss them and stuff. But I just want to cuddle and watch movies and share fries. Kissing seems kind of gross.”

Nancy thought critically. “Kissing is kind of gross,” she replied. “Very sloppy. Can be fun, sure, but sloppy. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“There aren’t rules?” he asked doubtfully. “Like, what boyfriends are supposed to do?”

Nancy laughed. “The only rule is you need to talk to each other. Your relationship should look the way you want it to, not just like something you saw in a movie.”

“And I don’t have to ditch Dustin, right?” Lucas asked. “They’re always doing that in movies, the minute they get a girlfriend.”

“You don’t have to ditch Dustin,” she promised. “In fact, you probably shouldn’t.”

“Cool.” He was quiet for a second. “I wish she could move in with me. I mean, my parents can be annoying sometimes, but…” he winced.

“Billy?” Nancy supplied.

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “That was terrifying,” he confessed. “He - I - and he beat Steve - Max is so badass.” He blew out a breath. “It’s not fair. For her or for me.”

“She deserves better. We’re her family now,” Nancy commented. “Same as we’re yours.” She gave him another tight squeeze. “If that asshole ever comes for you - or anyone - again, I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk for awhile.” She set her jaw.

Lucas raised an eyebrow at her, but he offered a smile. “You’re badass too.” He sighed. “This whole town is stupid. But especially Billy. My mom’s from Chicago, you know? And she said there were tons of people who look like us. But not in Hawkins.” He sighed again, scrunching up his face. “Billy called me ‘the wrong kind of people.’ Max told me. She said she didn’t know what he meant...but I knew.”

“Fuck them,” Nancy replied. “Fuck Billy, fuck everyone. You’re one of the best friends my brother’s ever had, and you are the most level-headed one in that party. I mean, you’re the one who realized you needed to tell Max what had happened.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I know I can’t make the world fair for you, but I love you, and I’ll do what I can.”

Lucas smiled, genuine as it was tired. “Thanks, Nance.” He yawned. “I feel...better. It’s tough being the big brother. But even though you’re Mike’s, you’re kinda like my big sister, too.”

Nancy glowed with pride. “I love you, Lucas.” And she did. Nancy Wheeler was overflowing with love.

* * *

Dustin looked gloomy, having been rejected by yet another set of girls, so Nancy did what any responsible older sister would do. She went to ask him to dance, pulling him to the center of the gym floor as a song by Cyndi Lauper came on.

“Girls this age are...dumb,” she offered, which she didn’t really believe, but maybe it’d make him feel better. It was really that small towns themselves were stupid, and they didn’t have room for weirdos like her or Dustin or any of her kids. But that was okay. “Give it a few years, they’ll wise up.” The kids had each other, after all. “You’re gonna drive ‘em nuts.”

“You think?” he asked, making the little purring noise in the back of his throat. Nancy couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’ll find your someone,” she replied, even though she herself didn’t know what was going on with either of the boys that might possibly be her someone, and she wasn’t so sure there was just one someone for everyone, anymore.

Dustin sucked on his lip, looking up at her awkwardly. “What if...I don’t want to?” he asked tentatively, and Nancy wondered what on earth was in the water in Hawkins. She glanced around to take mental stock of the rest of her kids on the dance floor, having a ball, and she shook her head fondly.

“You don’t like girls?” she asked. “What about Max?”

He shrugged. “I think I just wanted to be her friend. She’s not much different than Lucas, really. And I think it was weird and I was worried Lucas was gonna ditch me for her,” he confessed. “I’m like...the extra member of the party. The expendable one. Mike has Will and El, Lucas has Max, and I’m just...here.” He sighed. “I want someone to want me.”

And that was the whole of middle school drama, wasn’t it? All these kids just feeling their way through the dating scene, and then kids like Dustin, not really interested but not wanting to miss out, either. Wondering if they were wrong for being different, when really, it seemed like Hawkins, Indiana just had an incredibly restrictive definition of love.

“Friendships are just as important,” Nancy reassured him. “There’s no way you’re expendable. We couldn’t have done half the things we have without you.” She pulled him in for a hug, and he squeezed back appreciatively. “If you don’t like girls, so what? You’re young. Or maybe you never will. And that’s okay.”

“I don’t like boys, either,” he added. “I’ve never - I’ve never felt the ‘electricity’ Steve said I should feel. For anyone.”

Nancy snorted. “Well, your first problem was taking relationship advice from Steve Harrington,” she snarked, then realized how that probably sounded as his ex.

Dustin glared at her for the first time in his young life, a completely different look than the starry one she was used to. “That was mean,” he told her. “Steve is totally smart. And nice. And he got you, didn’t he?”

Nancy glanced around awkwardly. Steve did not, in fact, have her.

“Furthermore,” Dustin continued, drawing himself up to look as imposing as a small thirteen year old could, “I think it’s really rude how you’ve just been ignoring your boyfriend this whole time. He’s really sad, Nancy. I get that the - the stuff made it hard - but it’s over now! Talk to your goddamn boyfriend!”

“He’s not my -” Nancy stopped abruptly, unsure how to explain their breakup to Dustin. Especially since Steve hadn’t. Should she tell him about the fight? The alcohol? The dumb things she’d said? The way Steve had called her bullshit and walked away?

“He was bringing you goddamn roses when all this shit started happening again, Nancy.” Dustin looked up at her sadly. “The least you could do is talk to him.”

Roses?

“There you are.” Nancy whirled around and saw Steve-goddamn-Harrington in a soft red sweater with his hair done perfect and her stupid, traitor heart did a backflip. “Thanks for taking care of my girl, Dustin.”

Dustin nodded, fist bumping Steve.

Nancy laughed, but she was more startled and worried than amused. “Was this a set-up?” she accused. Dustin just gave her his massive grin in response. “Dustin Henderson, you are unbelievable!”

“Friendship is important, Nance,” he replied, giving her a little salute. “Catch ya later!” And then he bounded off over to find his friends.

“You look beautiful,” Steve complimented, and while she knew it was true - she’d spent far too long doing her hair just so, with perfect curls - he still had no right to say it.

She stood her ground, staring Steve down. “I don’t have to go anywhere with you.” She crossed her arms, again choosing anger over fear and pain and vulnerability. She was damn good at standoffishness.

He sighed, long and deep and incredibly beleaguered. “I know you don’t. That has been made clear.” He pointed to the photo station, now empty. “But Byers already agreed to talk, so don’t make the two of us awkwardly stand out in the hall without you.”

“Unbelievable.” She rolled her eyes and stormed off towards the door, not waiting to see if he followed. She didn’t know why she was going, but if Jonathan was there, there must be good reason. And yeah, maybe she was tired of avoiding Steve and maybe she was ready to yell at him for breaking up with her and breaking her heart, just a little.

Jonathan was leaning awkwardly against a wall in his suit, waiting for them, and he winced at the look on Nancy’s face. Too damn bad. He was a willing participant in this ridiculous plot.

She scowled all the harder.

“Easy there, Nance, you might kill the guy,” Steve soothed, as if he had any right. As if he cared what happened to Jonathan. But then he went and stood next to the other boy and Nancy wondered if he actually did care.

“What do you want?” She put a hand on her hip and summoned as much menacing as she could. The look she was going for was ‘Karen Wheeler when she caught Mike sneaking out that one time,’ but she wasn’t sure how well she was pulling it off.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Steve demanded.

Nancy couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. “Why am I avoiding you?” she asked, incredulous. “Steve, you broke up with me!”

“No, I didn’t.” He looked just as confused as she felt. “Jesus, Nancy, we had one fight. Couples fight all the time. And then every time I tried to find you, to talk about it, you were gone.”

“Oh.” Her voice was very small. “But...you called me ‘bullshit.’”

“Yeah, cuz it fucking hurt to hear you say you didn’t love me! And then you wouldn’t go back on that.” He shook his head. “But who cares, whatever, you’re seventeen. I don’t need to know if you’re in love with me, I just need to know you want to keep doing the same shit we’ve been doing.”

She looked down at the ground, biting her lip. “I slept with Jonathan,” she confessed. “I thought - I thought you were done with me, so it didn’t matter.”

“I know.” Steve sighed. “He told me.” His lips twitched up in a smile. “We talked about how you’re good in bed.”

Jonathan made a strangled noise as Nancy glared them both down. “I swear, we didn’t!” he protested. “I mean, I told him cuz - I mean, he’s my friend - but we didn’t talk like that.”

Steve slapped Jonathan’s shoulder, chuckling. He was the only one enjoying this conversation, which seemed incredibly unfair to Nancy. “I’m kidding.” He shrugged. “I mean. I get it. Byers is a decent, loving rebound. Why not?”

“He wasn’t a rebound.” Nancy crossed her arms and glowered. “I meant to do it and I liked it.” She was barely keeping herself from sticking her tongue out at Steve.

Jonathan exhaled, sounding somehow both guilty and relieved.

“Told you, man.” Steve snapped his fingers, then pointed in mock accusation at Jonathan. “You said you were just a rebound, but I didn’t believe it.” He seemed oddly calm about it.

“You’re not mad?” she asked doubtfully.

He shrugged. “Hey, if Byers wanted to fuck me after our fight, I dunno if I’d’ve said no, either.”

Jonathan choked again. “Steve!” His face turned beet red, and Nancy laughed in spite of herself. It was the kind of joke he could only make around them, that the rest of Hawkins would take as the death of Steve’s reputation, but damn she loved the way he said it.

“I mean, I figure it’s half my fault, anyway. Jesus, you thought I broke up with you.” He took a couple steps down the hall and practically punched the bar of the water fountain, leaning down to take a drink. “I mean, it’s not really cheating if you didn’t do it on purpose and if I’m okay with it.”

“‘If you’re okay with it’?” she repeated.

Steve returned to their little group. “I’m okay with it. I want you to be happy, Nancy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And if you’ve already moved on from me, whatever.” He spread his hands. “I just - we want to know what the fuck is going on with you. Which of us do you want to be with?”

“Why assume I want either of you?” she snapped, words out of her mouth before she could really think them through. Steve and Jonathan both winced. “I’m sorry.” She offered a sheepish smile. “It’s just...I was not prepared for this when I left the house this evening.”

“You don’t have to choose now,” Jonathan said, but Nancy just shook her head.

She thought of all the talks she’d had with the kids over the past month, encouraging them to be open and to be honest. She heard Jane’s voice saying “halfway happy” and the promise she’d made right back to the girl.

“No,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I can’t choose.Ever. It’s both of you or it’s nothing.” She took another deep breath. “I love you both. I do. I love Steve, and I love Jonathan, and having one without the other is only halfway happy. And I want to be all the way happy. So it’s both, or it’s neither.”

“Oh.” Steve and Jonathan glanced at each other. “That...makes a lot of sense, actually,” Steve began slowly.

“Why?” Nancy asked, leaning back against the wall self-consciously. She didn’t think this was predictable.

Steve laughed. “Everything about you is too much, Nancy Wheeler. How could you love just one person?”

“It doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

Jonathan and Steve looked at each other again. “I think we’ve learned to share,” Steve joked. “I mean, you’ve been making us practice all along.”

Jonathan fidgeted nervously with his hands. “So...how would it work? Would it be like...you have two boyfriends? Would we all date each other?” He glanced quickly at Steve, then quickly away.

Nancy snorted. “If you two wanted to kiss each other, I’d have no complaints.”

“I’m down if you are, Byers,” Steve said in a joking tone of voice.

Jonathan scowled. “It’s not funny.” He flushed. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.” He turned away.

Steve raised an eyebrow. Then he bit his lip and took a deep breath, glancing at Nancy - possibly for reassurance? “Look, man, I play it off as a joke because it’s less terrifying than just telling you outright, but I mean every word I say.” Steve rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Pretend like you don’t care. That’s how you get ‘em.”

“Oh.” Jonathan didn’t turn around just yet. “That’s…”

Stupid, Nancy wanted to finish. No one in the history of ever had been attracted to feeling unwanted.

“He came to me, Nance.” Steve smiled at the back of Jonathan’s head, some mix of fond and sad. “He drove you home and then he came to check on me, to make sure I was gonna survive, because he said I looked pretty messed up when I left and he wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Jonathan snorted. “And you were neck deep in cheap beer and you kept flirting with me and I thought you’d figured out I was queer and were making fun of me for it.” He still didn’t turn around.

“No, I was sad and lonely and you’re pretty,” Steve retorted. Nancy could see a hint of color rising up Jonathan’s neck, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. Still, that was far from the most important detail.

“Wait, so you didn’t ask him to bring me home?” Nancy asked. “You didn’t even talk before you left the party?”

Steve shook his head. “I knew he would when I saw him, though. I knew he’d take care of you. Idiot’s not subtle about how in love with you he is.”

Jonathan finally turned back to them, looking sheepishly at Nancy. “Sorry for lying,” he said. “I just...didn’t want you to lose something that made you so happy. And he really did worry about you.”

“It’s okay,” Nancy said, and she realized she meant it. It was scary to let go of the anger and the fear, but she felt...safe. Hopeful. Like she could actually have what she wanted. “So...what do we do now?”

“Well, we’ve both slept with you, so I think it’s only fair we sleep with each other,” Steve joked. Jonathan’s face went as red as Steve’s sweater. “Kidding! I’ll settle for a kiss.”

Jonathan glanced at Nancy, then Steve. Steve reached out, and Jonathan knotted his hands in Steve’s sweater. He kissed Steve like he kissed Nancy, she realized, like he was starving. She liked watching them together; it made her feel warm inside, seeing her two favorite people happy.

They broke apart, breathing heavily, and then glanced back over at Nancy. She grinned, then kissed each of them, first Steve, then Jonathan.

The gym doors slammed open and the three of them jumped apart. An absolutely livid Dustin came striding through the doors, Lucas chasing after him. “Nancy!” Dustin shouted. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” she asked, stepping away from Steve and Jonathan. Did the kid see? Did he think there was something wrong with her?

“They’re all dating now!” Dustin pointed a finger accusingly. “Will is dating Mike who’s dating Jane who’s dating Max who’s dating Lucas, and I don’t even know how any of that even works, but they said it’s because of you!”

Nancy supposed that meant the kids actually listened to her and took her advice about talking through things.

“Hey, hey, champ. Deep breaths, okay?” Steve took two steps forward and pulled Dustin into a big hug as the boy let out a strangled, frustrated sob. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yes, it is!” Dustin protested. “All my friends are dating and they’re gonna leave me behind and I’m going to have no one and be sad and lonely and weird forever!”

“Dustin, man, I told you it’s not like that!” Lucas insisted.

“Yes, it is!” Dustin repeated. “I’ve seen the movies.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Man, forget the movies! You’re my best friend and I’m not ditching you just because I’m dating someone now.”

Max pushed open the door, Jane trailing behind her, followed by Will and Mike. “God, Dustin, you’re so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Nancy rubbed her eyes. “Okay, back up. How did this start?”

Will looked at the ground sheepishly. “Well, a girl asked me to dance. And I didn’t want to, but Mike kept hitting me, so I did, but I didn’t like it.”

Nancy glared. “Mike. No hitting.”

He stuck his tongue back at her.

“And I thought about our conversation and I just - I told Mike that I liked boys. And then he said he did too.”

“I like everyone,” Jane added helpfully.

Max and Lucas just kind of looked at each other and shrugged.

“And then El showed up,” Mike continued, “and she looks so pretty!” He gestured wildly. “And then we tried to dance and then we kissed and then she just came out of nowhere and said she wanted to kiss Max.”

Jane shrugged. “It is true.”

Mike swallowed. “And then I told her I liked Will - like you said I should - and then she said we should talk to everyone.”

“So she dragged us all over and we had a big huge talk and we decided we’re going to just...do what makes us happy.” Max shrugged. “I said No Kissing but I will hold hands and go on dates. And we’re just gonna try it. Do what makes us happy,” she repeated, and the rest of them nodded.

“All the way happy,” Jane finished solemnly.

Dustin frowned. “Well, I am zero percent happy.” He looked at Steve. “I mean, what do you think?”

Steve glanced over at Nancy and Jonathan. Nancy just shrugged back at him helplessly.

He exhaled slowly. “I think,” he began, “that maybe the advice I gave you...was bullshit. And that you should do what makes you happy. So if your friends want to date each other, fine. But you can say that they’re not allowed to ditch you, which I know they won’t.”

“And no group dates without me,” Dustin added.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “I would never, bro.” He gestured at the others. “They can go on their group date if they want and we can play on your Atari. I’m not abandoning you.”

Max glanced between Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, and Nancy realized belatedly that they were all standing rather close again. “So does this mean you figured your shit out?” Max asked, gesturing at the three of them.

Mike nodded. “There was a betting pool on which guy you were dating and it was killing me not to get in on the action.” He smirked at Nancy’s glare. “Even though I knew.”

“Um. Yes?” She reached down and grabbed Steve and Jonathan’s hands. “We’re...gonna all try dating, I guess. Try to be all the way happy, too.”

Dustin threw his hands up into the air. “Nothing makes sense anymore!” He groaned. “Love is weird.”

Nancy laughed. “For sure. Weird and messy and confusing. But we’re all going to be happy. Even you, Dustin.” She went to ruffle his hair, dropping Steve’s hand, but the kid’s curls were rigid with hairspray, so it turned into more of an awkward pat.

Jane nodded. “All the way happy.”