Work Text:
this is also being updated to my tumblr. you can find it here.
You hate this job. You hate it.
Maybe it’s not that bad. The pay is good. Really good . It’s his twisted grin that makes you think twice.
The metal locker bounces back against the others as you pull out your bag; the loud clanging sound it makes forces your expression to pinch. An image flashes in your mind at the sudden noise.
You’re trapped in the bus from the junkyard. The demodog jumps onto the roof, its claws scratching the metal above you-
And then you’re back, standing in the locker room with your belongings grasped in your hand.
With a deep breath you realize it isn’t even a memory at all, but instead a reminder of the dream that terrorized you last night. The scare at the movie must have rattled you more than you care to admit.
Like all your nightmares, this one felt undeniably real. You could feel the pearls of sweat on your skin, the shivers that crawled up your spine from the chill in the air, the weight of the creature as it pounced on you…
When you woke up with a start, you couldn’t have felt more foolish; it had only been him. Steve, who while rolling over in his sleep, had thrown an arm across your stomach. You didn’t have the heart to wake him, although you desperately wanted to.
You hope this doesn’t mean the dreams are returning. Their constant presence in your mind exhausted you - you don’t think you could count how many hours of sleep you lost.
Everything’s going to be fine. It has to be.
Your fingers grip the waistband of the bright red shorts, ready to change and get to Scoops as soon as possible. Nothing sounds better than a chocolate shake with extra whipped cream, courtesy of your favorite sailor.
“Just in time for the show, I see.”
Billy’s voice echoes through the locker room, nearly making you jump out of your skin. The shorts didn’t make it past your knees, but you pull them right back up as he enters. Your eyes dart around the room - of course you had to be alone.
“Get the hell out of here, Hargrove,” You scowl as he disappears into the showers, “Can’t you read? This is the women’s room.”
“I’m just here for the tools,” He replies; Heather had been fixing one of the shower heads earlier. You hear the box rattle as Billy picks it up, “Damn umbrella keeps coming loose.”
“Sweetheart, you need to relax,” He adds before returning to the locker room, drawing out the last syllable. Your mouth presses into a firm line at the nickname; that tone in his voice is all too familiar.
His wicked smirk grows as he places the tools on the bench behind you, watching as you haphazardly stuff your belongings into your bag, “I could help you with that, you know.”
“Pass,” You mumble through gritted teeth.
“Oh come on,” Billy drawls, leaning his side against the metal doors on your right. A shiver rolls up your spine as he runs his knuckles down your arm, “Harrington can’t be that good.”
You grab his wrist and twist harshly, pushing him up against the wall when he’s caught off guard.
“What the-”
“The YMCA has self-defense classes on Tuesday nights,” You say while pinning his arm behind his back, “Decided to go to a few.”
When Billy tries to free himself, you pull back on his hand. His hiss of pain fills you with a sense of pride. You could get used to this.
“Touch me again and I’ll break these fingers,” You mutter, tugging on them a bit harder, “Been meaning to return the favor.”
With that threat, you promptly let him go. Billy doesn’t get any time to react; you’re out the door almost instantly. You decide that you won’t be changing at the pool anymore.
—
You immediately regret that decision; the thick material of the wet swimsuit uncomfortably clings to your skin as you bike to Starcourt. The longer you think about it, the more frustrated you become.
Fuck him for making you adapt to his behavior. Fuck him for invading your life again. Fuck him and everything he’s done to you.
When Hopper saw what Billy had done to you and Steve, he was willing to arrest him then and there. But Max knew her brother better; there’s no way he’d co-operate with the police. Besides, his presence at the Byers’ that night brought on a slew of complications with your non-disclosure agreements. It was easier to let it go. Well, easier for everyone but you and Steve.
You can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you had been able to file charges. Maybe Billy would’ve gotten the hint and left you alone. Maybe you and Steve would’ve had some closure. Instead, you’re left with a hand that can’t form a fist and a boyfriend who fears for your safety every time you go into work.
Yeah, fuck him.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice shouting your name across the parking lot; there’s only one person it could be. Your sour mood shifts in an instant.
Dustin’s grin mirrors yours as he rushes over to the bike rack. You flash him a playful expression, putting your hands on your hips, “Did you get taller?”
You missed his laugh. Hearing it again makes your smile grow even wider. It’s been a long month.
“I think so!” He replies before locking his bike beside yours. You both share a tight hug; while you’ve loved all the time you’ve gotten to spend with Steve, you couldn’t help but feel like a piece of you was missing without your brother.
“A couple of little birdies told me I can get free ice cream,” Dustin whispers lowly after pulling away. You chuckle, “Will and Lucas?”
Your brother nods eagerly; you laugh again before gesturing for him to follow. As the pair of you walk through the mall, he stops often to gawk at all the shops packed in the space. It’s quite an adjustment to see Hawkins with something so shiny and new; almost half of the town is run down now.
The corner of Robin’s lips turn down when she sees you approaching, “Jesus, another one?”
You flash a frown in her direction, “Play nice, Robin. This is Dustin. Dustin, Robin.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” He adds. Robin’s brow rises as you join her behind the register, “Oh, so you’re the brother. These two have talked my ear off about you for hours.”
On cue, Steve bursts through the staff door; his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile floor. A smile grows over your face as the pair of them reunite. Robin watches with an expression that can only be described as disgust. She’ll never understand you two.
Steve’s enthusiasm can’t be suppressed, “You’re back!”
Dustin’s eyes widen with excitement at the sight of him, “Hey! You got a job!”
Their hands move wildly through the air as they perform their famously secret handshake; neither of them have ever let you see it before. It’s a lot more complicated than you anticipated. Once they’ve finished, Robin shakes her head slightly in disapproval, “You guys need some more friends. I’m serious.”
As much as he might despise her, Steve can’t help but agree a bit; he sighs in defeat with her comment. But he quickly shakes the feeling, speaking to your brother again, “What do you say to a sundae?”
—
“So? How was it? Tell us everything!” You say, squeezing into the booth beside Steve; instinctively, his arm drapes over the back behind your shoulders.
Dustin beams at you with a wide smile, “Okay! So, first off, everybody missed you. It wasn’t a Camp Know Where fireside sing-along without your s’mores.”
Robin, who blends a drink behind the counter, snorts at the thought of you as a camp counselor. Dustin gestures to her with his spoon, “She seems cool.”
“She’s great-“
“She’s not-“
The glare Steve receives from you over the difference of opinion makes your brother laugh to himself; trying to convince Steve to give his co-worker a chance hasn’t been easy.
Dustin continues as he digs through his sundae, “We did the usual stuff. You know, rock climbing, some survival skills.”
You prod further, “Well, what’d you build?”
Before he can answer, you lean over to Steve, “He made a pretty sick wooden airplane a couple years ago.”
Steve whistles, “Impressive.”
“It was,” Dustin replies, frowning a bit at the memory, “Until I got it stuck in a power line on Cherry.”
“ That’s what that is?” Steve asks. He sits up a bit straighter, lips curling into a smirk, “Looks like Carol owes me twenty bucks.”
You roll your eyes at how proud he seems while Dustin leans forwards in his seat, “I designed and constructed a fully functioning radio tower. Named it Cerebro.”
“What the hell do you need to use a radio tower for?” Steve questions, his face scrunching up with confusion; you kick him in the shin before taking a sip of your milkshake, encouraging him to be more supportive.
Dustin smiles coyly, “So I can talk to my girlfriend whenever I want.”
You choke a bit on your ice cream while Steve grins, “Alright! Now that’s what I’m talking about! Good for you, man.”
Your head still can’t quite wrap around the thought. Your baby brother is beginning to date… Jesus. It seems like only yesterday he was still a toddler, pulling on your pant leg to ask for a cookie from the cabinet.
Steve pats Dustin on the shoulder as he starts to tell you about her, “Her name’s Suzie. She’s crazy smart, hotter than Phoebe Cates-”
“No way,” You and Steve say in unison; your response earns puzzled glances in your direction from the two of them. You casually shrug before trying to play it off, “What? I can tell when girls are hot.”
Your ears burn with embarrassment. You take a sip of your drink to try and calm down.
“Plus, she doesn’t care that my teeth are still coming in,” Dustin adds, “She thinks kissing is better without teeth.”
Neither you nor Steve know how to respond to that. You both try really hard not to think about what that’d be like. He glances over at you for a second - the shock on your face matches his. You clear your throat, realizing you need to be the supportive big sister, “Wow, um...”
“That’s uh, kinda romantic, I guess,” Steve rambles when you trail off. He’s a lot better at this than you are.
Silence falls over the three of you as Dustin continues eating his snack. Steve looks at you again when you nudge him softly, and your eyes speak for themselves. You’re tired of keeping this a secret.
All those months spent lying to your brother are growing heavier on your conscience. Sneaking around him just to get some alone time with Steve was admittedly fun for a while; now that you’ve gotten a taste of what your relationship could really be like, you’re not sure you could do it for much longer. Better to pull off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later, but you’re afraid you’ve already waited too long.
Steve’s brow creases as he whispers to you, voice barely recognizable over the music’s melody, “You sure?”
He sighs deeply when you nod, preparing himself for whatever could come next. His hand moves to grips yours beneath the table in an unspoken show of support, one that you reciprocate quickly. You feel like a married couple about to tell your kid about the divorce; you even took him out for ice cream to lessen the blow. God, what a disaster.
Here goes nothing.
“Everybody ditched me yesterday.”
Dustin’s admission causes concern to bloom in your chest - all your worry now lies in the bitterness of his tone. You can tell he’s hurting more than he’s letting on.
“What? Why would they do that?” You ask. While you try to make your voice sound gentle, a hint of anger comes through. Steve recognizes that glint of fury in your eye. You decide you’ll be making a trip to the Wheelers to give Michael and the others a piece of your mind.
“It’s fine, whatever,” Dustin brushes it off, only frustrating you even more. His mood quickly shifts to one a bit more smug, “I can guarantee they’ll regret it though.”
Steve scoffs, “What do you mean?”
Dustin takes a moment to glance around at the other patrons - he almost looks paranoid. Robin’s busy serving a family, and all the other patrons are enthralled in their own conversations. It must be safe enough, but he still motions for the pair of you to scooch in closer. He only speaks when you’re all practically sitting on top of each other; Robin grows confused when she looks over to see you all crammed into the booth like that.
His words are hushed, barely understandable. You and Steve share a clueless glance when neither of you are able to decipher what he said. You push for Dustin to repeat himself, only for the same outcome to occur. Steve, annoyed by your brother’s actions, finally raises his voice, “Dude, just speak louder.”
Dustin cracks, his frustration bursting from him, “I intercepted a secret Russian communication!”
Everyone in the parlor turns abruptly at his outburst. You plaster a fake smile on your face, gesturing nervously, “Sorry, my brother tells bad jokes.”
You spin back to Dustin after receiving a few weird looks, muttering under your breath, “You’re being serious?”
When he nods, Steve leans back in shock. You prop your head up on the table, mind already beginning to spin from the implications. Your brother may have indirectly figured out a way to anticipate any Soviet movements going forward. With the fear of nuclear war growing everyday, there’s no telling what this piece of information could do.
“All I need is your help with translating it,” Dustin says, lowering his voice once again, “Just think… if we figure this out, we could be real American heroes.”
Well, consider Steve’s interest peaked.
He’s lost everything except for you. Anything he can do to try and earn back a bit of his dignity sounds like it would be worth the risk, especially as he sits here in this damned sailor uniform.
“American heroes, huh?” Steve smirks, tossing his arm over the back of the booth. Just the thought inflates his ego.
You’re a little more skeptical of the idea - it’s not like any of you are fluent in the language, what are the three of you going to do? That being said, you suppose it can’t hurt to try. You wouldn’t mind a bit of recognition.
“Sure, why not,” You shrug, earning you small smiles from both of them. Dustin pulls a translation book from the depths of his backpack, “Let’s get to work.”
—
You lean your head back over the edge of the chair, taking a quick second to recenter yourself; your eyes are beginning to hurt from studying this stupid book so intensely. You knew that Russian didn’t use Latin characters, but you didn’t expect it to be this difficult to interpret.
It didn’t take long for Robin to weasel her way into your little project. With her language and music experience, she seemed like an obvious addition to the team. Once she joined in the fun, the translation started moving at a much faster pace; you figure the entire thing will be cracked tomorrow.
“Alright,” Steve sighs as he wipes his hands on his apron, “Closing time, let’s get outta here.”
He really didn’t mind taking over the store for Robin; she proved to be much more valuable than anticipated. Listening to the Russian that intensely hurt his brain anyways. He’d rather deal with Erica Sinclair instead.
You rub your eyes with the back of your hand as Robin copies her translation to the white board. Dustin watches from over her shoulder, “You sure this is right?”
“Positive,” She replies quickly, clicking the cap back onto the marker. The four of you crowd around the table to read what she’s written: “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the West.”
Your brow furrows. It doesn’t make any sense. Steve verbalizes the same thought, frustrated that this was all she was able to come up with, “What the hell does this even mean? It’s practically gibberish.”
His keys jingle as he grabs them off the counter, motioning everybody out of the store. Dustin tosses his backpack over his shoulder as Steve locks the security gate, “I mean it’s not like they’re going to just broadcast their evil plans for anyone to hear.”
Steve rolls his eyes when Robin agrees, “Yeah, it’s probably some sort of secret code.”
“I wonder what it’s referring to,” Your brother says as his curiosity grows even more. Dustin glances back, eager to hear your opinion. Instead, you walk silently beside Steve, arms crossed over your chest as you think. Something about this isn’t quite adding up. When he grabs your attention, you share your concern.
“When you said the radio is long-range, how far are we talking?”
He shrugs, “It can pick up signals at least sixteen hundred miles away, why?”
“Russia is like…” You trail off for a moment as you complete the math in your head, “Probably three times as far. There’s no way we should’ve been able to intercept this.”
“Unless they’re getting sloppy,” Robin chuckles.
Your words run over and over again in Steve’s mind. You’re right, it almost seems too easy. Then he realizes why.
You come to halt when he does, expression creasing as you watch the gears spin in his head. When his eyes meet yours, you watch as he hatches an idea. Suddenly, he’s digging through the pockets of his shorts, desperately searching for something.
Steve curses when he comes up short, “Shit, I need a quarter.”
You snort, “A quarter?”
“Yes! Jesus Christ, Henderson,” He raises his voice, gesturing for you to hand him one. You laugh a bit as you set your duffle bag on the ground, rifling through it to entertain your boyfriend’s theory. As soon as you’ve managed to find the piece of change, Steve’s snatched it out of your fingers. You’d be angry if you didn’t see what he needed it for.
The Indiana Flyer. Of course . Why didn’t you think of that? You don’t know how many times you and Steve have complained about hearing this song played constantly; the answer was right in front of you all along.
Robin and Dustin turn around when they hear the coin clink against the metal slot. They share a confused glance at the sight of you both kneeling on the ground, listening to the music of a cheap kids’ ride. But then Dustin recognizes the melody flowing through the speakers - it’s the same one that plays over the coded Russian message.
“Well I guess that answers your question,” Steve says after meeting your gaze. Nothing else has to be said in order for you to understand what he implies. The truth forms a weight in the pit of your stomach.
Robin’s focus bounces between the pair of you, still unsure of the hidden meaning behind his words, “I don’t get it.”
Steve finally pulls his eyes away from you; his voice grows serious as he addresses Robin, “That code didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”