Work Text:
this is also being updated to my tumblr. you can find it here.
Steve can’t decide if Creel House is in better or worse condition than he was expecting. The house seems to be structurally sound, minus the frequent creaking from the floorboards. On the other hand, the amount of debris and cobwebs make it hard to believe this place was ever nice. With each step, a flurry of dust swirls through the air; he finds himself rubbing his nose often.
You and Dustin are walking a bit in front of him, peeking your heads through the empty bedrooms as you pass by. Dustin comes up by your side as you lean against a door frame; he scans the room quickly, his eyes landing on the twin bed in the corner. This must’ve been Alice’s room.
He gestures to the dusty mattress with his chin, “Give you five bucks to go lay in it.”
You glance down at him, face pinching in disgust as he smiles in that teasing way he does, “Absolutely not.”
“Ten.”
“No!”
“Twenty?”
You scoff before moving to study the family portraits in the hallway, “You don’t even have twenty dollars.”
Not that you would admit this, but you still have no idea what clues Nancy wants the group to be looking for. The only connection that makes sense to you is that Vecna’s attachment to this house is rooted in being the site of his first attack, but even that feels like a stretch. Why would there be any clues about Vecna on the Hawkins side? God, you wish you could get across to the Upside Down — you never thought you’d say that.
The beam of Steve’s flashlight pans across peeling wallpaper; the light shines through the cracks between the wooden supports and out into the backyard. All of a sudden, he hopes no one saw the group of you enter the condemned property, if the flashlights don’t give it away first. As he turns his head, his gaze catches on a small knob jutting out from the wall. With his dark brow furrowing, Steve wraps his free hand around the handle and tugs. He needs to pull harder than he was anticipating; a small door, warped from water damage, is freed from the wall after using more force.
Casting his flashlight forwards, he’s met with the sight of a narrow, twisting staircase. This must go to the attic. Without pulling his eyes away from his discovery, Steve calls out, “Hey, Henderson?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s up?”
You and Dustin look at each other when your reactions overlap. You point to yourself, “Oh. Did you mean-”
“Or do you want-” Dustin interrupts.
“Or both-”
As Steve realizes what he said, his face burns a bit in embarrassment when he shifts his gaze to you both. Well that’s never been an issue before. Steve hesitates — instinctively, he was referring to you and he doesn’t feel like hurting the kid’s feelings at the moment. He gestures for both of you to join him.
Your nose crinkles as you peer through the door, likely leading to the attic. From what you can see, it’s coated in cobwebs and the thought of having to face what made them makes your skin crawl. You quickly retract, stepping back down next to the boys with your body coated in goosebumps, “Let’s uh, finish sweeping the other rooms first, yeah?”
You shiver, instinctively swatting at your arms to rid yourself of any imaginary arachnids; Steve chuckles at the sight. You’ve fought monsters but are scared of a few spiders? Adorable.
“We need new nicknames,” Dustin says, shoes scuffing against the dusty carpet as Steve leaves the attic door propped open.
“How about one and two?” You suggest, “I’ll be one-”
“Why are you one?”
You frown at Dustin’s interruption, as if it’s stupid for him to consider another option, “I’m the oldest by like… four years. I’m obviously number one.”
Before Dustin can argue, Steve’s speaking as you three begin back down the hall, “How about I just call you Little Henderson?”
A scowl erupts over your brother’s face in record time. He spins, mouth agape and flashlight pointed straight into the eyes of the Harrington boy. His expression says it all; he absolutely hates the idea.
“Don’t even tell me what nickname you’re coming up with for her. Sexiest Henderson?”
Dustin pretends to gag while turning away, his footsteps illuminated by the flashlight as he darts off into one of the bedrooms. Steve goes a bit pink, sputtering his response, “I was gonna say Big Henderson, Jesus Christ man!”
You roll your eyes at your brother’s reaction, scoffing slightly while you turn your attention back to the photographs on the walls. A better kind of shiver rolls up your spine as Steve slips his hand under your jacket, pinching your waist and lowering his chin to hook over your shoulder.
“Maybe I should use that one.”
His voice is low in your ear, only loud enough to be heard by you. Steve emphasizes his words with a firm kiss pressed to your flushing cheeks; you bat him away playfully. It earns you a small yelp, accompanied by a giggle from you as he fakes pain, overdramatically rubbing the spot on his arm where you hit him.
Steve drops the act quickly with a smile, instead choosing to think about other variations as you walk, “What about… Henderson I’m dating? Or Henderson I’m totally in love with?”
He peeks over his shoulder to see if you’re smiling along, which you definitely are, still trying to search for clues even as Steve flirts. You chuckle, shaking your head at how stupid it is that those cheesy nicknames get your heart rate to increase just a bit.
You decide to play coy, “Alright I’ll allow it… but only if you can handle any more gagging sounds from Henderson number two.”
From a room over, Dustin’s voice shakes through the wall, “I heard that!”
—
The mid-afternoon sun beats down on your neck as you dip in between the trees, wiping a hint of sweat away from your brow with the back of your hand. As you lower your wrist, you catch the time on your watch — you’ve been wandering through the woods for at least twenty minutes.
You sigh, “Steve, I think we’re lost.”
Steve has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the sound of your voice. Before he can even think about responding, his gaze brightens, hand gesturing animatedly through air.
“No, see! I know what I’m doing, alright? This is the tree you got your shirt stuck on that one time and you had to-”
Steve stops himself after remembering that Dustin is right next to you, trudging along through the Indiana forest with his compass in hand. Your brother’s face turns to one of pure disgust, his features pinching as he desperately tries not to think about what you two were doing out here in order to end up in that predicament.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Dustin whines, his shoulders slumping. Your boyfriend smiles sheepishly as Dustin quickens his pace to get away from you both and takes the lead. Steve does the opposite, slowing down to walk beside you, close enough for his arm to brush yours.
“You remember the tree I got my shirt stuck on?”
Steve looks to you as you whisper, eyes darting over your scrunched nose and the teasing smile pulling at your lips. As if it’s obvious, he shrugs, “You had to take your top off in the middle of the woods. Pretty sure that’s ingrained in my head forever.”
“Definitely not the only thing I remember,” He adds, holding his hands up, “Just sayin’.”
The other members of your group are trailing further behind as you attempt to lead them to Eddie, who’s currently hiding out at Skull Rock. Not only do you have to deliver a selection of Dustin’s favorite junk foods, but inform him of the new information you’ve gathered:
Vecna seems to perform his kills remotely from the attic in Creel House — how he manages to do that is still a mystery to you, but you suspect if you try to think about it too hard you’ll drive yourself crazy. Eddie confirms the theory when you find him a few minutes later, revealing that he was present when the third victim was attacked and killed; a senior named Patrick McKinney. Lucas seemed especially troubled by this news.
But something continues to bother you about the plan, especially as you stand here in the shadow of Skull Rock, hiding from the local authorities and helping a fugitive.
“Look, I’m just gonna put it out there…” You begin, hand outstretched in front of you as you cautiously attempt to lead the others along your train of thought, “I don’t think we’re gonna be able to convince Hawkins that Eddie and the Hellfire Club are innocent.”
Your words force everyone’s eyes to land on you. You shift nervously, crossing your arms over your chest, “We can’t prove their innocence without telling the town about Vecna, and I just have a feeling they’re more likely to believe a group of ‘devil-worshippers’ are the ones committing all these murders and not a being from an alternate dimension with psyonic abilities.”
“They won’t believe it unless they see it,” Robin agrees, “Not that I’m sayin’ we should show them…”
“Regardless, the priority needs to be finding Vecna and killing him,” Nancy adds. Eddie slumps a bit to your left, tossing a snack wrapper to the ground as he chews. Obviously, he’s a bit defeated by your assumption, but he supposes it makes sense; that makes it hurt more. It’s realistic.
“And we currently have no way to do that because we can’t even get to where he is,” You remind the group. Luckily for you, your brother quickly brings new hypotheses to the table.
A gate? Nearby? It sounds too good to be true. But you remember wandering around the train tracks with the boys and El a couple years ago; the same thing that happened to your compasses then is happening to Dustin’s right now. With a few weary, uncertain glances passed between you, the group sets off again in search of where the path to Vecna lies.
You take the caboose, occasionally turning to make sure you’re not being followed. After a particularly long scan of the treeline in the distance, you spin to see Eddie’s slowed down to hike alongside you.
“So…” Eddie starts, clapping his hands in front of him as he walks, “You’ve uh, fought Vecna before?”
You scoff, shaking your head as you step down off a log, “Nah, no. Vecna’s a… new development. Let’s put it that way.”
Eddie nods slowly, trying to grasp the meaning of your words as the silence lingers in the air awkwardly. He doesn’t know why you seem to be the most trustworthy one out of all of them. For some reason, he believes that you’ll tell him the truth if he asks. Maybe it’s because you’ve been straightforward with him since the beginning. Or maybe it’s because you’re defying his expectations left and right.
The hostility that was present before has mostly melted away — there’s a small amount of tension that lingers, but mostly out of discomfort. Neither of you knows anything about each other. But at least you’re willing to converse now; a drastic difference in comparison to your first meeting.
Eddie’s cheeks pinch as he hesitantly speaks again, gaze cast towards the ground while he hikes, “Then if you haven’t fought Vecna, what… have you?”
“Well there’s um-” You pause, lips pursing as you try to figure out a way to describe what you’ve seen. Your face lights up in realization.
“You’ve seen Alien, right?”
Eddie nods, expression flickering with disbelief and surprise, “Duh, ‘course. Ridley Scott’s a genius.”
Surprisingly to him, you crack a smile with his words, proceeding to go on a well-constructed but winding tangent about the creatures you’ve encountered. As your voice filters through the air, Steve finds himself glancing back at you; eyes squinting while you ramble, fingers moving to reference height or length, strengths and weaknesses and everything in between. Eddie clings to everything you say, head tilted to look at you more than the ground — he nearly trips when he spends too little time watching where he’s going.
Robin rolls her eyes at the odd crease in Steve’s brow, scoffing under her breath as she catches him staring at the pair of you, “You’re hopeless, Harrington.”
“Oh! And there’s eggs too, but I… I haven’t been able to figure out what’s up with those,” You continue, picking at your fingernails as you brush past a tree, “Y’know, what comes out of them, lays them, etcetera. And honestly? Maybe I don’t wanna find out. I’d rather not add another monster to the list of ones that I’ve seen.”
“Is that why you haven’t played D&D in a while?”
Your gaze turns to a glare as it snaps to Eddie. He shifts anxiously under your scrutiny, embarrassment pooling behind his cheeks. Eddie coughs, “Dustin mentioned you haven’t played in a couple years, I just… sorry.”
You blink, wiping the scowl from your face as quickly as it had arrived, “No, it’s uh… it’s fine. You’re right. I-I’d rather not roleplay fighting monsters when I’ve done it before. As myself.”
Suddenly it hits him — a group of teens have been protecting Hawkins from an alternate mirror dimension. That sounds like something he made up while high out of his mind.
“Jesus Christ.”
Eddie takes a second to think, tongue darting out to wet his lips while you grow silent beside him, only agreeing with his curse through a small smile and a tilt of your head. He exhales before spinning one of his rings between his fingers.
“Y’know if you ever feel like gettin’ back into the game, I could make a… a monster free campaign. If you’d be interested, it’s fine if you’re not, obviously.”
It’s not until Eddie mentions the game that you realize just how much you’ve missed playing with your brother and his friends. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge your younger self. Your grin grows at the idea, “That sounds great, actually.”
You catch his matching smile out of the corner of your eye before he adds a more serious tone to his voice, expression contradicting his tone as he begins concocting, “Alright, how about the party’s trapped in a… ooo! An enchanted castle. And there’s… evil magic furniture trying to kill them as they escape.”
“Evil magic furniture?”
Eddie shrugs before glancing over to meet your confused but undeniably intrigued expression, “Well what else am I supposed to come up with if I can’t do monsters, Henderson? C’mon, I thought you were stupid smart. Use that brain of yours!”
His jab manages to get a laugh out of you — a confused, but genuine laugh. You shake your head in amusement as Eddie continues. Steve’s brow furrows at the sound of your chuckle. A strange, unwelcome feeling blooms through his chest as his head snaps back to land on you both once again. Eddie Munson made you laugh.
Oh. Steve doesn’t like that.
As that conversation comes to a close, Eddie catches the other boy’s glances over his shoulder. A sense of uneasiness passes through him. There’s a possessiveness to Steve’s eyes, one that Eddie doesn’t quite understand.
“I’m sorry I just have to ask because it’s killing me,” Eddie blurts out, catching both of you by surprise; he wasn’t expecting to actually say his question, “You and Harrington are… what exactly?”
You look up just in time to see Steve’s gaze spin from Eddie to Robin, who shoves him and the pair begin to bicker animatedly. You can’t make out exactly what they’re saying due to their hushed words, but you have a hunch. It makes blood rise to your cheeks.
“He’s my boyfriend.”
Eddie’s brow skyrockets, “Oh shit! So you’re like… you’re steady?”
You scoff lightly, “Sure, I guess. If you want to put it like that. A little old fashioned, but yeah.”
Your answer doesn’t help. Eddie finds himself even more confused, running over things he’s heard in comparison to what he’s seen over the last few days. How quick Steve is to run a comforting hand across your shoulders when the mood turns serious, how much you smile at him for the most miniscule reasons, how equally enamored you both appear to be. After getting to spend time with both of you, you appear to be head over heels for each other.
You protected Steve in the boat house without a second thought; it was an instinct, an itch that you couldn’t bear to go unscratched. Eddie cannot grasp why everything about your behavior with Steve bothers him so much — until he does.
“Listen, I was gonna look past all the sleeping around because clearly you deserve to be acknowledged for what you’ve done and if that’s the only way you can cope, then fine. But if Harrington’s your boyfriend don’t you think that’s… kind of a shitty thing-”
“Woah, woah, woah,” You slow down, almost pulling yourself to a full stop, “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
Eddie matches your pace, panic lighting inside him at your tone. Your posture straightens, raising your voice with just enough power behind it to make him reconsider everything — you’re confused, which only makes him confused.
“So… you’re… you’re not sleeping with other people?”
Uh oh. Steve comes to a halt beside Robin, who he ushers to continue moving. Anger — the unfortunately familiar anger — is starting to simmer beneath his skin. He clenches and then relaxes both his fists, hands flexing as he suppresses the fierce instinct to pull Eddie aside and threaten him.
“No!” You nearly laugh, the concept so ridiculously absurd that it seems obvious you’d never do such a thing, “Who… who would even say something like that?”
You glance ahead when you notice Steve’s watching with a clenched jaw — the look he throws over his shoulder at Eddie can only mean one thing: a warning.
Eddie doesn’t have to speak again for the puzzle to start putting itself together; Steve doesn’t tend to get this worked up over much. There’s only one person who would spit something hilariously untrue purely out of spite to tarnish your reputation just for fun, as if his actions didn’t already leave a smattering of chinks and dents in your armor and scars over your skin. The realization flickers over your face — Billy Hargrove.
Suddenly, moments from the past few months start to make more sense. The lies from girls trying to steal Steve from you, trying to weasel him out from beneath your tight grasp. The smirks from guys that saw the pair of you together late at night in the supermarket, whispering vile insults between each other at your expense. Your boyfriend’s glare is telling; perhaps your name was thrown around the locker room more than you imagined and Steve gave you the blessing of never letting the vicious rumors reach your ears.
Eddie clears his throat when he looks back over at you, now grown very dejected by this revelation. He clears his throat before muttering a small apology, fidgeting under Steve’s intimidating gaze and decides to leave the pair of you alone. The second Eddie passes Steve, Steve’s expression softens. His focus shifts to you as you hesitantly step forwards to continue your hike.
Your eyes are cast down, intently studying the forest floor as you think, juggling a multitude of emotions. Instinctively, Steve reaches for your hand to intertwine your fingers. Before you can consider if it’s a stupid question, you’re speaking.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Steve’s grip tightens for a moment, inhaling deeply as he considers how to answer. He hoped he’d never have this conversation with you, never comfort you after finding out how Billy has continued to torture the both of you even in death, never reassure you that he knows not a single ounce of it is true. Billy Hargrove couldn’t bear the thought that you had said no to him and his bruised ego decided to destroy your reputation as a result. If he wasn’t dead, Steve would’ve killed him the first chance he got when he heard how out of hand the rumor had gotten.
At first, it was just between Billy and his cronies. The things Steve heard made his stomach churn, lie after lie shared in between gym and third period; Billy assured them that you were someone who knew what she was doing and someone that wouldn’t say no — a horny and desperate teenage boy’s dream. He insinuated that you’d been like that for a while, despite what others may have originally thought of you, even convincing them that you’d managed to get Jonathan Byers wrapped around your pinky. Steve didn’t have to ask you to know that wasn’t true; the thought of dating Jonathan made you cackle when he had brought that up early in your friendship. That’s all it was for a while — a filthy grouping of words kept as a secret between the junior and senior boys in the locker room.
It was easy to keep that from you. It was stupid untrue gossip. It was Billy trying to make himself feel better, sending daggers into Steve’s back as he changed, turned away and thinking of anything he could to drown out the lies. Which wasn’t hard to do — the moment he’d catch your sweet gaze on him in fourth period had him forgetting everything Billy had said. You’re so far from what he made his followers think of you. That would’ve made Steve more upset if he wasn’t comforted by the fact that you two knew more about each other than anyone else — he knew the real you.
What did make Steve upset was the knowledge that he was your first, that you two waited until he was confident that he loved you. Steve didn’t want to mess it up with you, after years of not getting it right, he felt that waiting was the best call. And it was you; his best friend. Jumping right into something so intimate with the only person who’s ever truly known him without time to adjust could’ve killed him.
Because the girls that came before didn’t know him like you do. Nancy knew some things, sure, but you knew about so much more. You knew about his parents and how their neglect really made him feel, how lonely he felt most of the time trapped in the big house with people like Tommy and Carol to keep him company. He told you so much and never expected anything in return; the least he could do was do the same for you, make you believe that he wanted you because he genuinely cared, not because of what you could do for him.
Then it became so much worse after Billy died and you and Steve started being open about your love. You became someone else entirely. Steve often wonders if his previous flings and relationships have been a contributing factor to your new reputation — someone who couldn’t keep her legs together. Because if you were being flirty with Steve Harrington, there’s only thing either of you could’ve been getting from the other. The former King and the nerd seemed far too unlikely. In the minds of the student body, there had to be an exchange occurring, and what Billy said to the other boys started gaining some traction. So you became a myth among the students at Hawkins High: a phone number scrawled in permanent ink on the stalls in the boy’s restroom, an obscene gesture doodled beneath the bleachers next to the track, a cautionary tale to the freshmen girls, a name etched into the interior of a locker in the gym showers.
Mike did everything he could to smudge the combination of numbers on the wall. Max scowled at her science partner who tried to gossip about spotting you and Steve at the drive-in. Lucas scratched out your name carved into the metal after watching one of his teammates do it before practice.
Steve only heard because Lucas had the guts to ask, citing his concern and confusion over what that could’ve been about. He made the younger boy swear not to tell you or your brother — a stern finger pointed across the counter of Family Video after school. Of course, with Steve’s notoriously bad luck, that lasted about two weeks.
Dustin had frowned at the drawing, not understanding what the hell you had to do with it; the only reason he saw it was because he tagged along with Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire Club when they went to smoke under the bleachers for the last ten minutes of lunch. The comments from some of the older jocks started after that, asking Dustin in the hall if you were still worth chasing even if you were supposedly Harrington’s toy. The truth smacked him right in the face and lingered for hours afterwards, a discomfort noticed by Steve later that night at the arcade.
Steve hated having to explain that to your baby brother, and he’ll hate explaining it to you now.
“It wasn’t true,” He starts, his heart shattering at the glimpses of your misery he catches out of the corner of his eye. He did everything he could to prevent this from happening and it still wasn’t enough. Perhaps it was better that the reveal came from someone like Eddie with good intentions versus whatever the opposite would’ve been — some guy actually trying to ask you for a favor. No one ever had the guts to approach you about any of the rumors, thankfully. They would’ve earned a swift kick from you and a hospital stay courtesy of your boyfriend.
“You were still having nightmares about… about him when it started,” Steve adds, voice a bit weaker than he’d like, his thumb stroking the scar across your skin, “Thought I could protect you from that at least.”
Your silence has him rethinking everything. Should you have been made aware? How would he have even brought that up? He backpedals, words tripping on their way out.
“I'm… I’m sorry I didn’t tell-”
“Don’t apologize, Steve. I’m not… I’m not mad at you. I don't…”
You sigh, shutting your eyes for a moment. You’re telling the truth — you don’t think you could ever be upset with him for trying to keep Billy’s influence from reaching you any further. If anything, you’re appreciative of that.
But how naïve did you have to be? How did you not realize? How many of your friends know?
“I don’t really know what I’m feeling, to be honest.”
Steve supposes that’s understandable. There was a jumble of emotions he felt when he heard too. The strongest, however, was the bone deep instinct to defend you. To protect you. To love you. Regardless of what Billy said, Steve knew that was the most important part. As long as it didn’t affect how he felt about you it didn’t matter.
You asked him not to engage if Billy tried anything. At the time, you didn’t think you could’ve handled patching Steve up after another fight. You’d already done it once; you were heartbroken to clean his split knuckles and beaten face and he wasn’t even yours then. You asked Steve not to engage and he listened because he was falling for you, positively enamored with your soft touches and the care with which you treated him. He promised — a saying that has gained serious meaning in your relationship. When one of you makes a promise, you’d rather die than let it be broken. No matter how difficult it was for Steve not to tackle Billy and make blood pour from his face, Steve knew the look on your face when he told you would’ve been more painful than whatever injuries he would’ve sustained. He didn’t want to hurt you ever again, so he took the brunt of it to protect you.
You, his reprieve at the end of the day, tucked into the dark privacy of your bedroom. Each pass of your warm palms down his back and across his shoulders removed each knife Hargrove had put there. Each press of your mouth healed and cleansed the wounds words had left. Each mumble of your feelings for him had Steve forgetting the other boy’s name. Then he’d wake the next morning with you — his love — curled into his chest, the early morning light barely peeking through your curtains, and Steve would remember why he allowed Hargrove to hurt him instead of you.
Steve’s eyes widen slightly when you plant a firm kiss to his cheek, lips soft against his skin.
“Thank you.”
There’s no reason for you to say anything other than those two words — they say everything you wish to. Thank you for looking out for me. Thank you for knowing me. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for loving me.
Steve’s blushing a bit when your eyes flick up to meet his briefly as you pull away. He inhales, nodding once. He doesn’t need to give a long answer for you to understand that he’d gladly do it all again.
“Always.”
—
The boat has been stopped for a few moments; the compass in Nancy’s hand began spinning endlessly, signaling that the gate is extremely close. There’s only one place it could be — down.
The gentle swaying makes it difficult to focus, your flashlight cast beneath the surface of the water. You’ve never seen a gate to the Upside Down, but you think you’d know it if you saw it — you’re searching for any sign in the murky depths below.
All of it makes you uneasy. The nearly full moon in the sky, a waning gibbous that casts white streaks across the ripples. The chill from the spring breeze, forcing you to curl into yourself tighter as you peer over the bow. The night that surrounds you, cloaking the familiar serenity of Lover’s Lake in a mysterious atmosphere. The fact that right now you could be floating right above Vecna’s entrance into Hawkins. A shiver runs up your spine that not even Steve’s warmth beside you can quell.
“You really think it’s down there?” Steve asks, glancing over to Robin as she studies the compass.
She nods, “S’gotta be. Where else are we gonna find a gaping portal into an alternate dimension all the way out here?”
Steve feels when your shoulders sink with a sigh. When he shifts his eyes to your profile, that bunched up brow tells him everything he needs to know, even more so when you turn to meet his gaze. Somehow, Steve manages to know exactly what you’re thinking. Your silence speaks a thousand words — you’ve got to go down there. You need to see it for yourself. And if you’re going in…
He sighs too.
“God dammit, Henderson.”
That’s when you and Steve start tugging at the laces of your sneakers.
“Woah woah woah, wait a sec, what are you doing?”
You pause, taking a moment to glance over at the other boy — Eddie’s voice trembles slightly. The darkness, only broken by the thin stripe of light from the flashlight, adds a glint of white to his irises. You furrow your brow as you respond, “What do you mean?”
“W-What are you…” Eddie gestures blankly to you as you pull off your shoes before removing your socks; you place your sneakers next to Steve’s and stuff the socks into the sole. He doesn’t have to finish his sentence for you to understand — why the hell are both of you going?
“We go together,” Steve answers, tone firm and unwavering. A nervous energy washes over the group. Robin and Nancy exchange a look.
“You can’t be serious,” Nancy adds.
“We’ll take a quick look and come right back,” You say, shifting closer to the edge as you pass Robin your flashlight, “I need to know if that thing’s really down there. I trust my brother but… y’know. Confirmation would be nice.”
“Besides, you’re looking at two lifeguards and the co-captain of the Hawkins High swim team,” Steve continues with a hand gesturing between the pair of you, “If anyone’s going down there to check this thing out, it’s us.”
Eddie seems to relax at his reasoning, leaning back slightly in his seat. Your face is scrunched in confusion; your head snapping to Steve gives it away before your words do.
“You were a lifeguard?”
Steve shrugs a bit, “Yeah?”
“How did I not…” You pause out of pure disbelief, glancing over to the others for some kind of reassurance, “Why didn’t I know that?”
A smirk toys at the end of Steve’s lips as he stands, “Just admit you wanted to visit me on the job with my shirt off and move on, Henderson.”
As if to punctuate his words, he tugs on the back of his collar and removes his sweater. You feel the faint heat in your cheeks as both the thought and the sight run through you; the red swim shorts, sunglasses you know all too well perched on his face with the whistle on his bare chest. You cough as you avert your eyes from him, but it’s plain to see on your face what stream of thoughts you just followed. Steve fully smirks as you stammer your recovery, tossing the article of clothing carelessly behind him; it ends up slung over Eddie’s arm, the boy’s face pinching as it lands on him.
“That’s not… I didn’t… shut up, Steve.”
You adjust on the bench, turning slightly away from him so you’re not tempted to ogle. But with his hair sticking up at odd angles and broad shoulders highlighted by occasional passes of someone’s flashlight, you can’t help but take a couple of peeks. You get reminders of memories:
A splash of water as Steve tossed you across the pool, pulling a rather loud squeal from you when you got more airtime than you bargained for. He quickly shushed you with a wide smile when you popped out, your soaked hair sticking to your face, worried that the neighbors down the street might overhear and call the cops. It was rather late, nearing two-thirty in the morning but neither of you could sleep. The pool was a delicious reprieve from the near freezing temperatures of the Indiana winter, the cover carelessly tossed in the nearby half-melted snow as the pair of you swam, bathed in the warm glow of the holiday lights his mom hired someone to put up. When Steve finally reached you, dragging you into his arms, he grinned into the wet skin of your cheek. It was Christmas Eve ‘85 — your first anniversary.
A sigh pulled from Steve’s lips, mind fuzzy with your weight hovering above him. One of your hands was intertwined and tugging at his caramel-colored hair, lightened from all his time spent in the sun with you over the summer. The strands were longer than normal, made even wilder with your fingers carding through it as he kissed you, slow and purposeful. Your lips were addictingly sweet, tongue coated in chocolate and butterscotch, a mixture of the two scoops of ice cream Steve had provided just an hour before. The top half of the vibrant blue uniform was long discarded, hanging off the edge of the couch as his hands gripped your hips, still clad in the white fabric of your lifeguarding swimsuit. You smelled like chlorine and gardenia, Steve like brown sugar and teakwood. The combination of a chuckle and a groan spilled from his lips when your free hand traced along his thigh bent up between you and the back of the couch, his heart hammering inside his chest as your fingers drifted beneath the hem of his shorts.
A kiss pressed in between Steve’s shoulder blades while your arms looped around his waist. The pan on the stove crackled as he cooked — scrambled eggs for you and two sunny-side up for him. It was late in the morning, the clock on the wall nearing noon, but neither of you had the mind to care. The corners of Steve’s lips curled up at the feeling of your forehead leaning against his bare back, nose nudging along his spine, the warm socks on your feet bumping his heels. Perfectly timed, the toaster buzzed and he shut off the burner before spinning in your embrace. Your grin matched his while he cupped your face in his hands, dipping down to plant a chaste kiss on your lips. Then several more until both of you were giggling and humming contently, smiling into each other while your meal grew cold. You ate it up anyway.
“We’re waxing your chest the second you get back here, Harrington,” Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio in Robin’s hands, forcing your attention back to the task at hand. Well, sort of. You frown, motioning for Robin to give you the walkie as Steve turns to the shoreline, sending an unpleasant look to the teens who watch from a distance.
You click the button on the side, “Not on my watch.”
“You… you pervert! I can’t believe you-”
You turn down the volume on the walkie talkie to its lowest setting — your brother’s scolding becomes a dull static-y sound through the lapping of the water that surrounds you. Eddie lets out a low whistle, now dangling an unlit cigarette from his lips as you pass the device back to Robin. She flashes a sort of disgusted look your way as she takes it from you; Nancy playfully rolls her eyes. You don’t give Steve the satisfaction of meeting your eyes, casting your gaze back down to the lake as you get to your feet.
You have to be careful not to tip the boat while you stand; Steve has a hand extended outwards, ghosting over your back just in case you stumble. A heavy exhale escapes you as you fist the bottom of your shirt in your fingers and proceed to pull it over your head.
“This has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” You say, voice muffled for a moment until your face is free from beneath the fabric. Steve swallows harshly as he goes to look at anything but your bra, more so for the sake of the other members of the group than himself. He didn’t realize how big the moon had gotten — he stares at that instead. Eddie looks for a second too long, skirting his eyes away just in time to avoid a scathing glare from Steve; your boyfriend still hasn’t decided how he feels about what Eddie revealed earlier. Robin’s looking straight up at the sky and Nancy could care less.
You gulp, glancing down at the dark, swirling water below the edge of the boat, “Well, guess we got that swimming trip you wanted.”
Steve looks over to you and he can’t help himself. He takes in the sight of you shirtless beside him, his arm brushing yours due to the closeness of the dingy, “Yeah, well it’s no new bikini, but I guess it’ll do.”
You smirk a bit, color pooling beneath your cheeks when you turn to him, “Eh, there’ll be time for that later.”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but can you two please just jump in the water already?” Robin pipes up from your other side, your shirt firmly held between her fingers. She loves you both, but all the flirting is starting to cut into her a bit. You flash an apologetic glance her way and take the hint.
“Oh! Before I forget,” Eddie begins as he passes a plastic bag wrapped flashlight over to Steve. With his other hand, he gestures absently to you both, earning him two looks of confusion.
“I cast Guidance.”
Steve… doesn’t know how to take that. It must be some D&D thing based on how you react — you smile appreciatively and nod once, “Thanks.”
But now, back to the task at hand.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Steve asks, hand shifting around the flashlight one last time, “You… you don’t have to. I can-”
“We go together.”
Your voice is just as serious as Steve’s was before; the echo from earlier makes his heart twinge inside his chest. With a final look shared between you, he takes a deep breath and dives, arms outstretched. You follow immediately.
The water is significantly colder than you were expecting, which is dumb in hindsight; you have to resist letting out your entire supply of oxygen at the shock. Steve’s waiting for you when you open your eyes, treading the murky water that surrounds the pair of you. The flashlight doesn’t help much. You give him a thumbs up — he’d give you a smile if he could.
The further down you travel, the more your head aches; the pressure from the weight on top of you presses painfully into your skull as you reach the bottom of the lake. It’s difficult to see anything in the dark and cloudy water, eyes pinching as you try to make sense of what you see before you. Either your eyesight has gotten worse, or there’s nothing here.
Steve seems confused too, scanning the flashlight across the ground. The only thing he’s spotted are some… fresh fish bones? Why would those be down here? When your hand on his shoulder — a reassuring sign of your safety — taps twice, Steve spins to follow where your focused gaze lies. A red glow emanates from the crest of rocks ahead.
There is a gate down here.
It’s not as large as the others you’ve heard about, but it still lights fire deep inside you. There’s a crack in the earth perhaps ten feet long and multiple tentacles of varying sizes and lengths slithering out from it. A membrane covers the opening, which calms your nerves just a touch — it hasn’t been used yet. As you think that, you swear you see movement on the other side. Without another moment to waste, you’re tugging on Steve’s arm and heading straight for the surface. You got your confirmation.
The second your heads are above the water, Steve’s ushering you back onto the boat. It’s a bit of a struggle, but he helps to hoist you up just enough for Robin and Nancy to pull you to safety. Water splashes onto the wood as Robin hands you your clothing.
“Well? Anything?” Nancy asks, hair blowing through the spring breeze.
Steve nods as you tug on your shirt, “Oh yeah. Yeah it’s down there alrig-”
Your hands go to grip the edge of the boat as it rocks suddenly; Steve’s pulled briefly under the surface as something seems to yank at his leg, gulping as he’s submerged. Panic starts to set in as he rises again, just as confused as the rest of you. You have no time to react.
Just as he looks to you, Steve quickly disappears under the waves, an outstretched hand sinking beneath the bubbles. You don’t hear the cries from the others; you’re diving back in without another thought the second he vanishes.
You can barely see, now propelled through the water without a flashlight to guide you. Your heart thuds in your ears, head pulsing from the pressure as you travel further into the depths of the lake.
Your dive crashes you into Steve — a surprise you were able to catch up with him. You manage to think quickly enough to reach out for him when you make contact. His fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, a bruising grip as you grab his other hand. Using all the strength you can muster, you try to pull back and free him from whatever’s wrapped around his ankle.
Your shoulders strain as you blindly re-adjust your grip, locking your hands together as you pull. With purchase on your body, Steve is able to do the same, dragging himself towards you while his foot tries to wriggle free.
It seems to be working; the pair of you stop moving, the water slowing around you as your lungs begin to burn. Then you jolt downwards as the plan backfires. When the tentacle slithers further up Steve’s leg, pulling him with greater strength, you go with him.
Your eyes screw shut as water rushes into your face, obstructing your field of view as it also pours down your throat. From behind your eyelids, you can see the red aura that emanates from the gate as you get closer. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You’re about to go through.
As you and Steve are pulled through the gate, your grip on each other finally wavers. Breaking the barrier sends you flying from him — you land on your back as you get left behind at the portal’s maw.
A horrible choking sound comes from you as you gag, coughing up the water that filled your lungs and stomach. Your chest burns as you fight to take in any amount of oxygen you can. Unfortunately for you, the air in the Upside Down is a bit thicker, spores getting caught in your mouth as you try to breathe.
When you finally manage to roll over onto all fours, Steve’s voice reaches your ears. You’re a bit wobbly on your feet, but you push up off the ground just enough to stand when you spot him about twenty feet to your left.
“Oh my god…” You mumble between coughs, sinking down beside him as he sits up. Steve is trying to catch his breath, chest heaving as he takes in his surroundings and your concern-stricken expression, water and slime dripping from your hair. As your fingers drift across his arm, you catch the color of pink, irritated skin. When you tug at his limb lightly, Steve doesn’t fight it and he lets you move it closer into your line of sight.
It’s not as bad as you thought it’d be, but the burns aren’t pretty to look at either. Being dragged across the rough ground scratched the skin on his back and biceps, leaving it inflamed and no doubt bruised. Once Steve realizes he’s not totally panicking, he moves his hand to grab yours. He nods a bit, swallowing harshly as he assures you he’s alright.
“I’m okay,” He says, sounding breathless, but his admission floods you with relief; he can see it on your face.
“I’m okay,” He repeats, maybe convincing himself as well as you, “Just a little banged up.”
You slump, leaning back onto your palms while a delirious laugh escapes your lips. It’s insane what you and Steve have gone through, but this? This feels like the worst.
“You’re okay,” You mimic his words as Steve sits up further, his brow bunched as he reaches out to you now. You nod — you’ll be fine.
The Upside Down is just as Nancy described. Everything’s exactly the same as Hawkins, devoid of most colors and washed in a cool tone of blue and gray; you can recognize the shoreline where Dustin, Lucas, and Max are waiting for you. Speaking of the lake, it’s completely empty. There isn’t a drop of water. Instead, the lake floor is coated in vines and a few sunken boats, similar to the one you had ridden on.
Just as you open your mouth to speak, a cool sensation slithers around your wrist. There’s just enough time for you to glance down before you’re jerked backward. Your arm strains, nearly popping out of its socket as you go with it, the back of your head slamming into the ground hard enough to make you see stars.
Steve’s hand just barely misses your foot when he reaches out to grab you. Your skin burns as you’re dragged across the ground, but thankfully protected by the fabric of your clothes. You’re blinking aggressively, trying to regain your bearings after hitting your skull so hard — the spot that smacked into the ground aches like your worst migraine.
When you come to a stop a couple dozen feet from where you began, you can finally catch a glimpse of what has a hold of you. A thick vine creeps up your forearm, continuing to envelop you the longer you stay still. But struggling makes it tighten its grip.
You turn and push yourself onto your stomach as you begin to pull, wiggling your arm beneath the tentacle and attempting to use the slick surface of your skin to free yourself. Pressure begins to build around the muscle of your thigh; you realize once it's too late that another vine has started wrapping firmly around your leg.
You hear the creature before you see it — an otherworldly shriek catching your ears through the ache in your head. Then, out of the corner of your eye, that’s when you spot it. Are those… wings?
The monster — it’s more of a bat than anything — descends from the thick storm overhead. The bolts of red electricity that crackle through the atmosphere only add to the gnawing sense of fear. It grows closer still, your breaths now coming in as shallow pants while you continue the attempt to free yourself before it reaches you; your wrist doesn’t feel like it’s going to budge.
You’re stuck, body straining as you use all of your strength to tug at the tentacle. You begin to panic.