Chapter Text
Jonathan Byers was admittedly anxious about having a sister. He’d had plenty of experience understanding Will, learning the right things to say to empower and protect him. They’d survived Lonnie together, and Jonathan had determinedly unlearned his father’s overly masculine influence to be able to teach Will real strength, real confidence and compassion. And he’d had experience taking care of his mother throughout the years— cooking meals and doing laundry and talking her down when Will was at the Wheeler’s a half hour past curfew. He’d defended both of them fiercely from Hawkins bullies and gossip, then tried his hardest to defend them from monsters. But a sister was different, especially a sister who could defend herself and the rest of the family better than anyone.
Jonathan was embarrassed to have shied away from Eleven their first few weeks in Lenora. The rare opportunities he’d had to call Nancy those first few weeks he’d pestered her with so many questions that she’d resorted to sending him newspaper advice column clippings along with her letters.
“El’s a lot like me, I think,” Nancy had explained patiently one late night on the phone. It was only ten in Lenora, but that meant midnight in Hawkins, and Jonathan was so panicked about a stupid comment he’d made about high school cliques during dinner that he’d called Nancy and completely forgotten the time difference. “She doesn’t want people to treat her with kid gloves. She can handle herself, and she can handle honesty. She’s restlessly curious about the world, Jonathan. Just let her be part of it.”
“Yeah,” Jonathan mumbled, nodding to himself. “Yeah, that’s smart. She’s just been through a lot, Nance. I want her to feel safe here.”
“She will, Jon,” Nancy reassured through a yawn. “You guys are her home.”
The next day Jonathan had invited Will and Eleven along with him and his new coworker Argyle to Argyle’s favorite thrift store the next town over. “I know you can spare a few hours away from painting, Will. You both need new first day of California school outfits. It’s tradition.”
“It’s not tradition, and if we thrift them it’s not new,” Will returned, not looking up from his canvas. He’d been moodily attached to his paint set since the day they’d arrived. El, who had been lounged on his bed watching, looked down at her faded jeans and stolen Queen tshirt from Joyce and frowned.
“Come on, dudes, let me have the honor of hooking you up with some righteous threads,” Argyle persisted. Jonathan was grateful for the unabashed enthusiasm Argyle always brought to the table. He’d been running out of optimism since they’d left their friends in Hawkins, and a fast friend to take on the encouragement mantle was just what he’d needed.
“Will,” El spoke tentatively, somehow breaking her brother’s focus on his canvas as he turned to look at her. “You are always complaining about having to wear hand-me-downs from Jonathan,” she tempted carefully. Jonathan tried not to take offense, but he must’ve not concealed it well enough because Argyle let out a full-bellied laugh. “Also I would like to leave this house eventually,” El added, drawing the attention back to her. Jonathan was always impressed by her intuition, despite her sometimes faulty social awareness.
“Fine, let’s go,” Will agreed appeasingly, making El smile.
They’d listened to the Smiths on the drive there because it was one of the only bands Jonathan and Argyle could agree upon. Jonathan very nervously watched El in the rear view mirror, hoping he’d be able to provide any semblance of useful fashion advice.
Argyle greeted the clerk with a long handshake before leading the group towards a back room blocked off with a dusty curtain. “This is where they keep the exclusive pieces,” Argyle announced with a grin, ushering them all through. There were racks of skater t-shirts, multi-colored, bizarrely-patterned button-ups, and high-rise sneakers. All things Argyle would wear, but the Byers-Hoppers decidedly would not. Still, Will drifted to a stack of plaid shirts tucked away in a corner and El drifted with him. Jonathan realized a few minutes too late that there weren’t any girls clothes in the room, but El didn’t seem bothered by that.
She ran her fingers over a pale burgundy flannel while Will sorted through the rest of the pile. Jonathan joined them while Argyle flipped through hats on the other side of the room.
“You know I have one kind of like that,” Jonathan noted quietly, pointing to the shirt.
“Really?” El replied thoughtfully. “I like the color. It reminds me of Max’s hair.” Jonathan smiled.
“You can borrow mine if you like,” he offered, and a grateful smile bloomed on the girl’s face. “We should probably find some good jeans to match it, though.”
They did, plus a few dresses El layered the boys’ shirts with, and that had started the Great Lenora Closet Swap of 1985. Will and Jonathan and El snuck into each other’s rooms and raised each other’s laundry baskets so often that Joyce couldn’t tell whose clothes belonged to who anymore.