Chapter Text
Steve picked his way along the dilapidated fence, doing his best to avoid the random patches of poison oak that popped up whenever necessary. He was so focused on keeping his tennis shoes out of the weeds that he didn’t notice a lone car parked on the side of the road. He would have run into it if he hadn’t glanced up at the last second to see how far he was from the farm's main gate. He stopped short, two feet from the left tail-light. “Shit!”
He didn’t have enough time to recognize the car before a low voice from his right asked, “Alright there, Harrington?”
Of course, who else could it possibly have been?
“Fine, thanks.”
Billy slid down from where he’d been perched on one of the fence posts and meandered his way closer to Steve. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the annoyingly indecent way his rolled white t-shirt sleeves tightened around his biceps. One of his hips came to rest against the back end of the Camaro, Wranglers tight around his ass and upper thighs. Goddamnit, Steve, get a hold of yourself.
“You sure about that? You seem a little… off.”
“Just distracted. It’s been a wild week between work and babysitting.”
“That brat-watching gig still paying well?”
“Well enough,” Steve glared. “What’s it to you, Hargrove?”
“Damn, Bambi,” the younger boy held up his hands in surrender. They had a sort of playful truce now, something fragile that toed the line between friendly and flirtatious. “No need to get your panties in a twist.”
“You’re trespassing, you know,” Steve accused. Billy rolled his eyes.
“So are you.”
“No, I called Mr. Wynn to see if I could come look at the trees. He said it was fine. I doubt he gave you permission to–” Steve glanced between Billy, his car, and the orchard’s edge curiously. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
The teasing smirk dropped from the blonde’s face, quickly replaced by an irritated scowl. Steve’s heart stung oddly and he was unsure how to handle the sudden change. “None of your business, Princess.”
“Damn, fine. Jeez.”
“Where are your ducklings, anyway? Shouldn’t they be squawking up a storm right now and convincing us to fight each other for their entertainment? Kinda strange to have a conversation without your sidekicks hurling insults every few sentences.”
“Even Mother Goose needs a break from the children sometimes,” Steve shrugged, joking without realizing. The tension that had broadened Billy’s shoulders disappeared and his posture relaxed again. “I asked Robin to sneak them into Silver Bullet this afternoon at the local theater so I could get a few hours of peace and quiet. She’s got a weekend gig making popcorn over there.”
“I thought the loud curly-haired one would be more into something like Commando or Wizards of the Lost Kingdom. Hardcore nerd shit.”
“Surprising little boogers, aren’t they?”
The world had nearly ended right in front of their eyes and less than three months later the gaggle of teens were piling into every horror movie they could manage. Robin wasn’t any help at all, supplying them with copies of The Exorcist and Rosemary’s Baby from Family Video between theatrical excursions and letting them stay over in the cushy one-level Steve’s parents had gifted him after graduation. They had called it ‘the development of Steve’s private adult space’ but Steve knew it was really just ‘getting him out of their hair’. He didn’t really care either way, free real estate was free real estate.
“Yeah, a real bunch of space oddities. And you decided to waste your hard earned afternoon off by… looking at some apple trees?”
“Well, there’s been–” Steve bit his tongue. He wasn’t allowed to share this kind of stuff with anyone out of the know, and while Max had been officially welcomed into the Party after her run-ins with several demodogs, Billy still stood precariously outside the veil. “It’s for a science project.”
“You graduated last year, pretty boy, and I know sure as shit you’re not attending Hawkins’ crap Community College.”
“Not my science project.”
“Damn, you’re totally going to spend your one hour of freedom doing work for one of the brats. Shit, you’re whipped and you’re not even getting laid, that’s hilarious!
“Fuck off, Hargrove. What does it matter to you why I came out here anyway?”
Billy used his hip to shove away from the Camaro. He returned to the fence and pressed his knee against the top rung for support, stretching up to pluck a single, perfectly red apple from a low-hanging branch. The movement revealed a sliver of Billy’s warm golden skin and Steve sucked his bottom lip between his teeth out of habit.
The younger boy polished the fruit against his shirt as he ambled back to Steve, holding it out once it was shiny enough to softly reflect his grasping fingers. Steve accepted it, admittedly entranced by the swimming depths of Billy’s ocean-blue eyes. He didn’t even flinch when their fingers briefly tangled during the exchange. The blonde licked his lips, taking his sweet time to make them shiny before he said, “Careful, pretty boy, that’s stolen merchandise. Think your friend Hopper would approve of you breaking the law?”
“You picked it,” Steve argued. “So if I don’t eat it, I’m not committing any crimes.”
“This is a Biblical argument, Princess, and I got places to be. Choice is yours, now, anyhow, and I know you’re too goody-goody to do it.”
And then Billy got into the Camaro, started the engine, and drove away. Quiet Riot spilled loudly from the speakers and dust kicked up behind the wheels; the younger boy never could resist the urge to show off.
With his heart thundering in his chest louder than one of Billy’s metal albums, Steve watched the car disappear from sight. He held the apple tightly, hand tingling where the blonde’s skin had grazed his own.
Once he had shaken himself free of the weird spell his ex-bully somehow managed to cast whenever he got too close, Steve frowned down at the fruit in his palm. If he ate the apple, he would be proving Billy Hargrove wrong, which was one of his few remaining pleasures in life. On the other hand, the (frustratingly adorable) asshole was right, eating it would be considered stealing, and Steve didn’t want to steal from Mr. Wynn.
But Steve also knew that thirty percent of these apples would fall and rot on the ground or get eaten by deer anyway, so it was more responsible and earth-friendly of him to just eat the damned thing and be done with it. Not to mention the snack had been a gift from his secret crush, insulting undertone or not, and that meant something to him on a level Steve refused to acknowledge or investigate.
Not yet. Not while he was still trapped in the Hawkins city limits, where his parents could still glare down their noses at him in silent, hateful judgment. Not for the reasons one would expect, strangely enough, but because that’s just how they were as people. Hateful. Mean. Happy with each other but not much else.
He rolled his shoulders and sighed. Now or never, he thought.
Steve took a bite of the stolen apple, chewed, and swallowed. His lips began tingling a moment later and the juice burned its way unnaturally down his throat. The sensation reminded him faintly of the time he’d gotten a half-drop of battery acid on his ankle while repairing his Dad’s moped and it made his eyes water. They widened a moment later in combined shock and terror when he looked down and realized that the flesh of the fruit was a bruised purple-red instead of its usual bright white. “Oh, shit!”
He could feel his stomach twisting and squeezing around the single bite of Upside Down-infected apple, cramps already starting to wrack his limbs. His skin grew clammy in a matter of seconds and his face flushed hotly. Steve scrambled for the walkie-talkie at his waist, hands trembling. He flicked at the ‘On’ switch with an uncooperative thumb until it caught. Please let the movie be over. Please let the movie be over.
“Dustin! Come in, Dustin! Over.”
“This is Dustin, over.”
Thank fuck.
“This is S-Steve. C-Code red. I’m out at the orchard a-and I-”
The transmission went unfinished.
Steve did his best to hold onto the evidence of his foolishness even as his knees hit the ground and he pitched forward, falling face-first into damp leaves and darkness.
“We’re going to need a wheelbarrow and a pair of sunglasses.”
“No offense, Will, but what the hell are you talking about?” Mike asked.
“In order to get Steve back to his house without any of our parents catching wind of shenanigans, we’re going to need to load him into a wheelbarrow and put on some sunglasses. If anyone asks, we can always say he fell out of a tree.”
“Do you really think they’ll fall for that?”
“They fell for an entire secret lab on the edge of town for like three years,” Max shrugged. “I think they can handle Steve in a wheelbarrow.”
“She makes a valid point,” Lucas sighed.
“What should we do with the evidence?” Dustin asked. He was wearing a pair of his mom’s yellow latex dish gloves, the apple Max had found in Steve’s hand now protected by several plastic bags. She had even written the date and time of their discovery on the outermost container like she’d seen on a police special one time. Once it was “stable”, Lucas put it in Dustin’s backpack and zipped it carefully closed.
“Alright, Autobots, roll out. Steve’s not getting any more conscious the longer we stand around blabbing,” Dustin ordered. The boys got his legs and the girls got his arms, coordinating their efforts until Steve was settled in the wheelbarrow, hair flopping awkwardly with every step.
They took turns pushing him home, one teenager supporting either wooden arm and going until they couldn’t, at which point another Party member would tag in for their rotation. Even teamwork couldn’t stop them from whooping excitedly when Steve and Robin’s place came into view around the corner.
His roommate met them on the sidewalk, arms crossed over her chest. “What’s going on with Harrington?”
“We’ve got a Snow White situation happening here,” Dustin informed her. He held up the Poisoned Apple for her inspection, layered as it was within four plastic bags. “He must have called the Code Red as soon as he realized what was wrong.”
“Why would he have eaten in the first place? Steve won’t even eat loose grapes at the grocery store because he thinks Hopper might get mad.”
“Hopper eats grapes,” El rolled her eyes. “Sneak thief.”
“Not sure,” Lucas piped up. “But it doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. He’s been stable so far, just unconscious”
“So why didn’t you guys take him to the hospital?”
“What’s the local doctor going to do? They can’t call the institute for backup with this kind of shit anymore. Oh, no! They can’t call for backup! Steve is so screwed…”
The Party fell silent, collectively staring at Steve’s slumped body still propped in the wheelbarrow. Eventually Robin squared her shoulders and hooked her hands under his arms. “Sinclair, Henderson, you get the left leg. Mayfield, Byers, you get the right. El…”
“Or, I do this?” El offered. She made sure the coast was clear before levitating Steve out of the wheelbarrow. Robin nodded appreciatively and gestured the group inside, carefully closing the door behind the floppy muppet body of her floating best friend.
El dropped Steve on his back on the couch and wiped her bloody nose on the sleeve of her black hoodie. Mike was at her side a moment later, offering his shoulder to lean against. Will handed her a juice-box from within his bag and she smiled shyly between them.
“Thanks guys. Much better.”
“What do we do now?” Max looked plaintively at the other kids. She was still relatively new to this Upside Down stuff, and Steve was the one of the only three adults she trusted. His loss was practically immeasurable. “You guys always figure out how to fix things, right?”
“Yeah, or they work themselves out.”
“This seems like it’s going to be a ‘figure it out’ situation,” Robin asserted. “But it’s getting late, so I need to return you munchkins to your various parents before you get me, yourselves, or Steve into trouble.”
“We can’t leave him here alone!” Dustin shouted. “He’s vulnerable! Steve has zero hit points remaining, Robin!”
“Call your damn Mom, Henderson, and see if she’ll let you stay over. If someone has to keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty, it might as well be you.”
“Snow White,” Dustin corrected.
“What?” Robin half-laughed, half-scoffed.
Dustin gestured between himself, Robin, and the others. “I think the makeup of our friend group lends itself better to Snow White than Sleeping Beauty.”
“Are you saying that I’m one of the seven dwarves?!” Mike screeched.
“Dopey,” El pointed, grinning. The others quickly agreed and Mike hid his blushing face in her mop of brown hair with a groan. She pointed to Lucas. “Doc.”
“Thanks?”
“Logical,” she snarked, and Max laughed at the memory of their fight so long ago. They were right about this whole stupid problem, she knew that she could trust them to be honest with her – especially El. Everything would turn out okay.
“Who am I?” Max asked.
“Grumpy,” El giggled. Max clicked her tongue and shot twin finger guns in her best friend’s direction.
“Damn right.”
“Bashful,” she pointed to Will. Then to Dustin, “Happy!”
“And you?”
“Sleepy,” she stuck out her tongue. “Like dreams, get it?”
“Yeah,” Max agreed. “I totally get it, girl.”
“I am so not the Prince, though,” Robin gagged. “I’ll be the huntsman or something. Or like a squirrel or one of those birds who perches on his hand while he sings and brushes his hair.”
“Huntsman it is,” Dustin jerked his chin in a sharp nod. Then the giddy teen began to snap his fingers and stomp excitedly. “I figured it out! I got it! Holy shit guys, I know what we have to do!”
“What?!” El gasped, tugging Will and Mike closer. Even Robin took a step in Dustin’s direction, like the loudest kid in Hawkins might whisper his discovery.
“We gotta find Steve’s true love!”
A long beat of silence passed before Robin snorted and the other kids burst into gales of laughter. Dustin drooped, and Max consoled him with an arm around his shoulders. “Dude, I love it, but maybe we should try science first. Just in case.”
“I got carried away with the metaphor, sorry guys,” he mumbled sheepishly.
“Yeah, yeah, go call your Mom. Everyone else, into the Bratmobile.”
“Thanks for letting me stay.”
“You’re in charge of the Party healer,” Will intoned seriously, catching everyone’s attention. Robin’s heart clenched in her chest at the reverence in their eyes when the teenagers turned to look at Steve; they’d arranged him comfortably on the couch, with plenty of neck support and his hands folded together over his abdomen. He might have been napping if she didn’t know better. “Don’t let anything happen to him, Dustin. Saving Steve is our Party objective now, and it may very well be the most important quest so far.”
It was El who spoke up first, surprisingly. She had only just joined them during game night, a clever rogue with sticky fingers. “Here, here!”
The rest of the kids cheered all the way out to the Bratmobile, a show of determination for themselves as much Steve.
Billy watched Max wander dejectedly through the living room, her “G’night” to their parents half-hearted at best. The smile she gave her mother didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. He leaned sideways in his bedroom doorway so he could ask when she walked past, “What’s wrong, squirt?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t have to tell me shit,” he said. “But I know some wacky crap is going on so if you need to take a load off you can sit on my floor with your homework.”
She blinked, taken aback. “Okay, pod person, back the fuck up or I will break out my friend’s shitty homemade pepper spray.”
“Shit, you need to stop letting Henderson play knight in shining armor. That kid’s gonna give himself a chemical burn.”
“Why do you care whether or not he gets a chemical burn!?”
“Shut up,” his eyes flickered towards the living room, but nobody moved. Jeopardy continued to play, with Neil and Susan interjecting half-formed answers every once and awhile. The eighteen-year-old stared down at his sister, “I care because I’m stuck here, shitbird, and if you have friends I might as well be nice to ‘em. Hard enough meeting decent people in a town so puny. No point hating everyone all the time.”
Max knew he was trying to remain cool and still let on that he was starting to like it here. She wouldn’t mention the lingering glances he’d been giving a certain Family Video employee lately, for both of their sake, but she did understand what those glances meant enough to add, “It’s about Steve.”
Worry began to stir low and urgent in his gut. Billy tried to keep his face impassive, but his voice was tight when he asked, “What’s wrong with Harrington?”
“He uhm…” Max bit her lip. She wasn’t picking a fight or withholding information, which was already pretty frightening, and her hesitancy to continue only made his heart beat faster. Panic started making moves on worry’s territory in his stomach. “Steve fell unconscious at the orchard and he still hasn’t woken up. Robin and Dustin are taking care of him.”
“Unconscious? What’d he do, fall out of a tree or something?”
She shook her head.
“Like our lives are ever that simple,” she muttered under her breath.
Billy’s eyes narrowed. She was right, an unfortunate trend as of late. There always seemed to be some weird shit going on in this podunk town, and he wasn’t an idiot. He had noticed how Max changed lately, how jumpy she was beneath the confidence, how she whimpered during the worst of the nightmares, how she snuck around and talked in code.
And now something was wrong with Steve? Something weird enough to shake Max, the most unflappable thirteen year old Billy had ever met? He let his voice take on that warning older brother tone that held no violence but also brooked no argument. “Maxine.”
“Okay, so, it’s kind of a long story, but basically there’s an evil alternate dimension spilling into ours called the Upside Down and it poisoned Steve and he won’t wake up and we don’t know what to do. Dustin said maybe he needed True Love’s Kiss but this isn’t a magic spell and that’s just nuts so we’re stuck,” she explained in one rushed breath.
Billy blinked. Upside Down? Steve won’t wake up? True Love’s Kiss?
“Uh. Okay,” he said, because he had no idea what else he could possibly say in the face of so much information. “Do you know how Steve got poisoned?”
"Long story short, he took a bite of some super-evil mutant apple and now he might not wake up."
She ducked into her room without another word, no doubt to cry about Steve where no one else would see. Her voice had been barely more than a whisper by the time she ended her sentence and fled. Billy felt the urge to do much the same as guilt clawed through his insides. But there were other matters that needed addressing. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.