Archive of Our Own ^beta

Maybe it's just because Robin has had less time for him, but Steve is beginning to miss being in a relationship. He misses being in love and all the things it entails. The late-night phone calls, the dates (both planned and not), the feeling of looking at someone and knowing he could share anything with them. He misses being someone’s boyfriend and he’s been complaining about it to you for so long words are beginning to lose meaning.

“Jesus, Steve, I get it,” you groan from your seat behind the counter of Family Video.

Robin and you became friends in band during your senior year and her junior year. You had gotten her the job after hers, y’know, burned down. She then got Steve a job. Now the three of you are practically synonymous with each other. 

“Can't a guy vent to his friend?” Steve whines, sitting on the counter with his back to the door.

You’ll be closing in an hour. Indiana’s inky night sky waits for you beyond the automatic doors. 

“Yeah, but not for two hours . Dude, I think you just need to get laid,” you tell him with all the seriousness you don't actually feel.

Steve looks to the ceiling as he thinks about it. Then he gives a single curt nod.

“I definitely need to get laid,” he agrees. 

“I’m so glad we’ve figured that out. Now, where are you taking me for dinner when we get out of here?” You cross your arms over your chest as you sink lazily into your chair.

He doesn't even blink at the question. You don't ask him if he wants to go for dinner, or if he could take you, you simply ask where he wants to go. It’s one of the things Steve likes about your friendship, even when it annoys him. 

“Well, we’re out at nine. The only thing open will be the diner. How does breakfast for dinner sound?” he proposes with raised eyebrows. 

“This is why you’re my best friend,” you sigh contentedly.

“I’m telling Robin,” he threatens playfully.

“Go ahead, she doesn't get me food nearly as much as you do. Even she knows my stomach is the way to my heart,” you lace your fingers over your heart dramatically. 

“If only everyone were as easy to please as you.”

“Awe, Stevie, did I set your standards too high?” you coo teasingly. 

“Did you miss the part where I called you easy ?” he teases back.

You punch his leg playfully, earning a low whiny ow from him. 

“Oh, you could try to ask out that waitress if she's there! What's her name.. Kirsty or something,” you suggest with a lazy roll of your wrist.

“Do you mean Kristy with the three-year-old son? Yeah, no thanks. I babysit enough as it is,” he grumbles the last bit, crossing his arms over his chest.

You roll your eyes knowing damn well Steve loves those annoying kids he calls friends.

“Beggars can't be choosers, y’know.”

“I’m not a beggar yet .”

“Yeah? What's missing then? Cause you look a lot like a beggar from where I’m sitting.”

“Consider me a beggar when I’m asking you on a date,” he smirks challengingly.

You scoff, not even slightly hurt. The two of you joke like this all the time. Usually, it's accompanied by Robin’s eye rolls and a sharp get a room . 

“You’re right about one thing, Stevie. You’d have to beg to get a date from me,” you shoot back.

His mouth opens to retort, but the door dings to signal the first customer in hours. You sit up quickly as Steve looks over his shoulder. Once you recognize the curly hair under an obnoxious hat you slink down again.

“Don't you have a curfew?” Steve questions.

“Yeah, ten. I’m not a baby, Steve,” Dustin scoffs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Steve puts up a set of defensive hands, “because ten is so much later than eight.”

“Whatever, dick,” Dustin grumbles as he walks up to the counter.

He opts to start ignoring Steve. Instead, he leans on the counter toward you with a wide grin.

“What d'you want, Henderson?” you ask knowingly.

“Do you still have that HAM Radio in your garage?” he asks.

You stare at him bewildered.

“Henderson… When were you in my garage?”

Steve raises his hand slowly, a tight smile on his face.

“Remember when you asked me to feed your fish that week you were in Louisiana?” 

You narrow your eyes at him.

“You mean the week you killed my fish when I was in Louisiana?”

The smile becomes more of a cringe.

“That would be the one.”

“Uh-huh,” you nod for him to continue.

“Dustin came along to help me and might have snooped around a little,” he explains casually. 

Your gaze shoots back to Dustin sharply. He wears a sheepish smile.

“You never let us come to your house,” he defends, “Besides, I didn't even touch anything. It was Mike -”

“Mike was there?” you question, whipping back to Steve.

“Okay, so, Mike was there too-”

“And Lucas,” Dustin interrupts.

You scowl at Steve.

“Alright, and Lucas-”

“And Max and El-”

“ Thank you , Dustin!” Steve states pointedly to get the kid to shut up.

“So, all those people in my house and my fish still didn't get fed?” You cock an eyebrow expectantly at Steve.

“Yeah, that might’a been why it didn't get fed. They found that damn radio and I had to pry them away so they would stop trying to tell dirty jokes to truckers,” he explains apologetically.

“ HAM radio,” Dustin corrects.

Steve gives him an exasperated sigh and an eye roll.

“What do you want the radio for?” You ask Dustin suspiciously.

Dustin’s mouth stretches into a wide charming smile that crinkles his eyes.

“To tell dirty jokes to truckers,” he says.

You scoff and shove down the brim of his hat.

“Rent a movie or get lost, twerp,” you tell him. 

Steve laughs, but quickly stops when you throw him a glare.

“Don't think you’re off the hook, Mother Hen. If I’d known you had custody that week I wouldn't have asked you to feed Periwinkle,” you scold.

“I wasn't supposed to have- wait, don't call it that,” Steve protests.

“Also wasn't Periwinkle like five years old? Isn't that kinda old for a fish?” Dustin interjects.

“What did I just tell you?” you question.

He gulps and scurries off to the action section. Steve looks at you impressed.

“You gotta teach me how to do that.”

“It's not something you can be taught. It’s innate,” you sigh as if you carry a heavy burden.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. He'd probably never tell you and he’ll definitely never tell Robin, but his shifts with you are his favorite. He loves Robin. She's the sister he never had or wanted. The thing about Robin being his sister is she acts like it. She gets on his nerves like it too. It’s different with you, though. It’s simpler. You don't give him grief for his stupid decisions. You laugh at them with him and then point him in the direction of a better one the next time. 

Steve honestly credits you for teaching him most of what he knows about being a decent human being. He had already been shedding his King Steve persona when you met back at Scoops Ahoy. You would visit Robin on your days off and lightly poke fun at Steve to test the waters with him. At first, he was still kind of a dick to you, but you straightened him out quickly. All it took was one swift Watch it, Harrington. This isn't high school anymore. Whatever hot shit you thought you were, it's time to learn you're not.

Robin helped gently peel off a few layers of King Steve. You stormed into his life and sloughed off the rest by giving him a whack on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. You’ve been whacking him ever since and he’s endlessly grateful for it. Sometimes he needs Robin’s softer nudges and pushes. Most of the time he needs your kicks to the ass.  Dustin comes back to the counter with a copy of Rocky . He brandishes big puppy dog eyes.

“Can we please use your radio? We want to try to amplify the frequency so we can reach California,” he begs. 

Steve slides off the counter and starts checking out Dustin’s rental. You sit with your feet planted firmly on the ground, slouched down, and with your hands clasped over your middle. 

“What’s in it for me?” You jerk your chin up at him.

“Quality time with your favorite freshman,” he smiles.

“Max will be there? I didn't think she was into all that nerdy radio stuff,” you tease.

Dustin’s smile drops into a deadpan stare.

“ Ha-ha , very funny. Fine, I get it. I’m only Steve’s favorite freshman, but he’s your best friend. That's gotta count for something ,” he reasons.

Steve looks up from the computer. His face is scrunched in dramatized confusion.

“You’re my favorite freshman? Who said that?” Steve asks.

Dustin scoffs utterly betrayed.

“Traitors, both of you. To think I’ve fought interdimensional monsters with you two!” Dustin huffs and snatches the movie off the counter. 

Both you and Steve take a moment to size Dustin up.

“I dunno, Stevie. What d’you think? Should I say yes ?” you ask, keeping your eyes on Dustin.

Steve holds one elbow in his palm and brings his hand to his chin. He leans sideways toward where you sit, eyes also staying on Dustin. 

“I guess he does have a point about the interdimensional monsters part,” he points out.

“True, but do I want a bunch of sweaty high school boys in my garage?”

“We’re not sweaty!” Dustin argues.

“Hm, talking back… That doesn't help his case, does it?” Steve comments like a scientist observing his experiment.

“No, I don't believe it does,” you shake your head.

Dustin groans.

“It could be your good deed of the week,” Steve suggests.

“Hm, it could, but I’m already friends with you. I think that counts as my good deed every week,” you say with mock contemplation.

“That’s how you’re gonna talk to the guy that's about to bring you to get waffles?” Steve arches an eyebrow at you.

You arch yours back at him.

“Depends, is that guy also paying for the waffles?” 

“You’re unbelievable, y’know that?” 

“Please, you can't get enough of me,” you smile up at him.

Steve fights off his own smile.

“Is that so?”

“Sure is.”

“You sound awfully certain,” he huffs.

“Is there a reason I shouldn't?” you challenge him with a smirk.

There’s one thing you know Steve won't do. It’s part of the new leaf he’s turned. Even when you egg him on, tease, prod, and get a rise out of him. Steve won't say anything close to suggesting he doesn't like having you in his life. Sometimes when you're both drunk and a little lucky, he’ll even admit he loves it. He loves having you as a friend. He loves having someone to call him out on his bullshit, but not judge him for it. You do too, it's why you guys work. 

“No, there isn't,” he sighs in defeat. 

“Um- Hello ? Still here, remember? Can you just tell me no so I can escape whatever this is,” Dustin waves a hand between you to grab your attention.

With a wide triumphant smile, you look back at Dustin.

“You guys can use the radio, but Stevie has to babysit,” you tell him.

Steve opens his mouth clearly to protest. Dustin shouts a quick You'reTheBestThankYou and runs out of Family Video. You cackle as Steve watches him go, mouth agape.

“You’re evil,” he states in disbelief. 

“So, does that mean you’re paying for dinner?” you ask innocently.

Steve places his hands on his hips and looks down at you like a disapproving mother. You smile sweetly at him.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he grumbles.

“Please, you love me,” you poke him in the stomach.

Something flickering and fluttering shoots through his gut from where your finger makes contact. It's like this sometimes. Your touch or your words will do funny things to him. He chalks it up to a trauma-bonded friendship. You’ve seen each other almost die. You’ve saved each other’s lives. That can make a friendship feel funny.

“You say that like you don't love me too,” he accuses.

You reach up and take his face in one hand. You squeeze his cheeks with your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers. 

“I’ll always admit to loving you, Stevie,” you coo playfully. 

Steve is grateful your fingers are gone before they can feel his skin heat up. The last thing you need is more ammunition against him tonight. 

Robin is sprawled across your lap on your couch. Steve is in the kitchen getting the three of you water. The band of misfits is messing with the HAM radio in the garage. You play around with Robin’s hair, using it to tickle her nose until it wrinkles.

“You’re gonna make me sneeze,” she complains.

You chuckle and drop her hair. 

“Are you guys having fun without me?” Steve whines as he brings in three glasses of water. 

He places them on the coffee table and takes his seat in the armchair to your right. 

“FOMO doesn't look good on you, Stevie,” you chide. 

“Uh- I’m pretty sure everything looks good on me,” he retorts smugly.

“Is it hard?” you ask with knit brows.

“What?”

“Holding up that enormous head of yours,” you smirk.

“That's not fair,” Robin interjects.

“ Thank you ,” Steve gestures to her as if making an example.

“His head is mostly hair,” she tacks on with a smile.

You laugh at Steve’s betrayed pout. Max comes in from the garage, hair pulled into a ponytail. She has a too-big flannel on and jeans that half cover her converse. A sigh falls from her lips as she falls onto the couch next to you and Robin.

“What’s up, Maxine?” you chime.

“Boys are dumb,” she states.

The three of you nod, all making expressions that read as can’t fight you there . 

“Anything you wanna talk about?” Robin asks.

Max looks at the three of you for a moment with that inscrutable gaze of hers. She rolls her eyes and throws her head back to rest on the cushion. 

“When Lucas asked if I wanted to hang out today, this ,” she gestures toward the door she just came through, “isn't what I had in mind.”

“Sometimes we do things we don't necessarily like for the people we like,” you offer with a sympathetic smile. 

She looks at you, all piercing eyes as she chews on your words. 

“I guess… Sometimes the guys just make me feel like such a girlfriend , y’know?” Her eyes narrow as she searches for understanding.

“Is that a bad thing? I mean, you are Lucas’s girlfriend,” Steve points out.

Max makes a small noise of frustration as she tries to come up with the right words.

“Yeah, but do they have to treat me like a background character in whatever they're doing?” she elaborates. 

“Like you’re not there and when they do acknowledge you it's an afterthought?” Robin relates thoughtfully, staring off at nothing.

“Yeah, exactly!”

“Whoa, who’s making you feel like that, Rob?” Steve questions. 

Robin’s eyes move to Steve, her head tilting back to be able to really see him. Then her head relaxes and her eyes move to you before going to Max.

“Oh, no one,” she says.

Max sends her a sympathetic albeit amused smile.

“So, make them treat you like the main character you are,” you tell Max.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Maxine, that you are leagues cooler than those dumb boys playing with that radio in my garage. Remind them of that. Then remind Lucas that you don't need to be here and he needs to start acting like it,” you explain.

She sits up.

“You’re right.”

“I often am,” you smile.

“I wouldn't say often ,” Steve snorts.

You glare at him.

“More often than you, hair for brains,” you shoot back.

Steve’s hands go insecurely up to his hair. It's gorgeous as usual, but you’d never tell him that. Steve Harrington needs to know you aren't impressed by him. Even when you are. 

“Why d’you guys keep bringing up my hair?” he grumbles. 

“It’s a big target, makes it hard to miss.”

The two of you catch Robin and Max exchanging looks paired with small smiles.

“What?” you both question in unison.

“Nothing, I’m going to tell those losers they're being idiots,” Max announces, standing up.

She’s down the short hall and back through the garage door before you know it. 

“She’s so affectionate,” you joke. 

“She must've learned it from you,” Steve jabs sarcastically.

“Awe, you hear that, Rob? Stevie thinks I’m affectionate,” you tickle Robin’s nose with her hair again.

This time she actually does sneeze.

“Don’t drag me into your flirting, it's gross,” she says. 

Both you and Steve stop immediately, looking at Robin in utter confusion.

“We’re not flirting. This is how we always talk,” Steve tells her.

“ Yeah , I know . I’m with you guys all the time. Your flirting takes up like seventy percent of our hangouts,” she expresses with wild gestures that almost hit you in the face.

Your hands are beginning to grow warmer the more Robin talks. You're tempted to clasp them over her mouth to get her to stop, but you don't know why. A strange heavy feeling sits on your shoulders.

“Steve and I don't flirt. We just joke around,” you say lacking the full confidence you would usually have.

“Oh, really? You and Stevie don't flirt even a little bit?” She arches her eyebrow up at you.

Your mouth pulls tight as the tips of your ears go hot.

“It’s just a nickname, Rob ,” Steve emphasizes his own nickname for her to make his point. 

“I don’t call you that,” she points out.

“Well, no one’s stopping you,” Steve is clearly beginning to grow agitated.

As your embarrassment rises so does his irritation. 

“Hm, I guess you’re right, Stevie ,” she says with a smirk.

The conversation dies after that. Stevie in Robin’s voice pushes uncomfortably into both of your heads. An ugly taut emotion rolls into a ball in your stomach and rises up your throat. You swallow it back down. Steve shifts uncomfortably in the armchair and takes a sip of his water. He doesn't know why it doesn't sound right coming out of Robin’s mouth. As close as they are, it feels too intimate. He knows it's ridiculous. How can he be able to have a conversation with Robin while she’s peeing, but her calling him Stevie makes him uncomfortable?

Robin’s eyes travel back and forth between the two of you for a moment. A mischievous smile curls onto her lips. She’s definitely using this to prove a point this week.

“You know what, Stevi-er- Steve , I’m gonna help you get a date this week,” you announce.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks at you. Robin’s furrow in their usual dramatic fashion.

“You are?” They both ask in befuddled unison.

“Yeah, that way I don't have to listen to you complain about being single at work anymore,” you shrug. 

The corners of Steve’s mouth pull down as he nods in consideration.

“Yeah, okay, I could use a wingman,” he decides.

Robin groans and throws her hands over her face. She loves the two of you more than anything, but holy shit are you morons. If she didn't think it would make you avoid each other, she would just tell you that you like each other. Both of you are just a little too stubborn for that, though. If you don't figure it out yourselves you won't figure it out. That doesn't mean she can't meddle and pull some strings behind the scenes, though. Right ?

It’s you and Robin running the morning shift at Family Video today. Sundays are always slow around here. Most of Hawkins practices the bare minimum of Christianity. Which means church on Sunday mornings to mid-afternoon, depending on the church. Robin has been making little stars out of old receipt paper to keep her hands busy. That leaves her mouth free to spout whatever thoughts come into her mind. Currently, her mind is turning secret gears to get all the right words out in the right order, to start pulling her strings.

“Oh, what about Nancy?” She says as if the thought just popped into her head and she isn’t reciting a script she came up with the night before.

“What about Nancy?” You ask curiously from where you’re balancing a pencil with rubberbands hanging off of it on a water bottle just a couple of feet away.

“For Stevie ’s date. He’s been talking about her a lot,” she shrugs casually.

Your nose twitches at the sound of the nickname- your nickname for Steve- but you manage not to wrinkle it. Robin isn’t really lying about Steve talking about Nancy. He has been, but only because he’s been helping her find a car before she goes off to college in the fall. 

“Nancy Wheeler? The same Nancy Wheeler that cheated on him and broke his heart? Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” you scoff, offended Robin even suggested it.

Robin fights off her smile, but she can’t get rid of it entirely. Instead, it shrinks into a smirk.

“You don’t think people can change?”

“Sure they can, that’s why they’re friends now.”

“Oh, like you two are friends .”

You shoot a flared nostril glare at her. She’s been doing this since your house the other day. It’s never anything over the top, just little digs here and there. Her little comments send a small panic to the back of your throat. Mostly because you’re afraid of her making things weird between you and Steve.

“Yes, exactly like that, Robin,” you reply tersely. 

She backs off after that, but her voice nags you in your head. After a minute and another rubberband, your pencil loses balance. It clatters to the floor with your resolve.

“What’s he been saying?” you ask, not looking at her.

If you did you’d find an extremely self-satisfied little smile on her freckled face.

“What’s who been saying about what?” She plays dumb poorly.

“Rob,” you warn.

She lets out a light laugh.

“Nothing, really. He’s just been bringing her up. He hasn’t talked to you about her?”

You keep your eyes fixed on the pencil you’re trying to balance once again.

“No,” you mumble your answer.

Robin just lets out an intrigued hm and moves on to other topics. She goes on for nearly the rest of the shift about band, her annoying calculus teacher, and how boring things are without you or Steve there. You don't hear much of it. Robin's previous words buzz around like a swarm of gnats in your head. Stevie. What about Nancy? He’s been talking about her a lot. 

God, he’s so stupid , you think scornfully. How could he be stuck on Nancy still? You love Nancy, she’s your friend, but Steve is your best friend. Well, one of them. They just aren't meant for each other and you don't understand how he doesn't see that. The phone trilling startles you from your thoughts making it obvious you weren't fully listening to Robin. She answers it.

“Family Video,” she greets.

Her eyes flit to you as her mouth pulls into a grimace.

“Uh… I can ask,” she says then pulls the receiver away from her ear, “So, Keith is having an emergency and-”

“No,” you deadpan.

“Look, I would do it, but I can't. I told Nancy I would see that new romcom with her and I've already rescheduled twice,” she pleas.

You sigh heavily and nod. Nancy Wheeler is just ruining your day. Now, you’ll be pulling a double because of Keith’s “emergency”. At least you’ll get to hang out with Steve. Steve and his stupid obsession with Nancy. 

Robin goes home at five. Steve comes in late ten after.

“Hey, sorry I’m- Keith, you’ve gotten shorter,” he pauses when he realizes you’re behind the counter. 

“Emergency, or so he says,” you explain lazily.

You've been here since nine this morning and have seen five customers. It’s been so boring you think you might pass out. 

“How long have you been here? You look awful,” he says while shrugging his windbreaker off.

He continues around behind the counter, windbreaker thrown over his shoulder. It doesn't fall thanks to his pointer and middle fingers hooking into the little loop above the tag. He looks like he just walked out of whatever movie Robin and Nancy are seeing right now. His jacket ends up tossed over the back of the office chair Robin once occupied. 

“Gee, thanks. I opened with Robin and now I'm closing with you.”

Steve nods and surveys the store. Nothing looks any different from when he closed last night.

“Busy day?” he asks.

“If it were any slower time would be moving backward,” you groan. 

He laughs, eyes scanning over your face. You feel strange under his warm honey gaze. Lighter, weightless even. Before you can stop it you feel the corners of your mouth pulling up.

“Well, the good news is we close at nine today instead of midnight,” he gives a half-hearted smile.

“Yay, only twelve hours today,” you cheer hollowly and raise a lazy fist in the air.

Your other hand holds your head up against the counter. Steve's smile turns sympathetic. His eyes flicker up and down you for a moment, mouth pulling tight to one side.

“How does dinner sound when we get out of here?” he offers, tapping the rubber tip of his shoe to one of the legs of your chair. 

“It’s Sunday, nothing will be open,” you point out.

“We can go back to my place. I’ll make you something,” he says like it’s obvious.

“Did you take a cooking class I’m unaware of?” You arch an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes but looks amused.

“Okay, fine, I’ll throw a frozen pizza in the oven.”

You let out a breathy laugh. It kind of punches Steve in the gut. Robin’s voice has been poking and prodding him. Is your friendship really that different from his and Robin’s? He figured he already knew that. It certainly feels different, but he didn't think it was that obvious. He didn't think Robin noticed that he jokes with you differently than he does with her. After all, he wouldn't joke about taking Robin on a date. 

“That actually sounds really nice, Stevie,” you say, tired and genuine.

There it is: Stevie . Carried by the right voice, the only voice meant to be carrying it. He smiles, half hidden as he looks down at his shoes. Then he sits in the empty chair and waits for the boring night to pass the two of you by.

Steve brings the entire pizza to you on the couch. He places it on the coffee table and takes a slice for himself. You take your own slice, but don't bite into it right away.

“So, what's up with you and Nancy?” you ask, feeling a little like you're teetering on the edge. 

Steve freezes with the tip of the pizza hovering in his mouth. He doesn't even take a bite, just pulls it away. His brows furrow in confusion.

“We’re heading over to Roann tomorrow around three,” he offers, unsure what you're looking for.

“Oh,” you attempt to swallow your disappointment, “guess you didn't need a wingman, after all.”

Steve’s head actually flinches as he’s physically taken aback. 

“What? Nance and I are just going to look at a car,” he tells you. 

You blink for a moment. It clicks for both of you at the same time. Your eyes narrow as Steve’s roll.

“Robin,” you both grumble.

You slump back into the couch and take a frustrated bite of your pizza. Steve watches you for a moment. His knee bounces with uncertainty. There’s a twist in his stomach he doesn't quite understand. He pins it on Nancy and all the complicated feelings she brings with her. 

Once upon a time, he was sure she was it for him. Steve was sure Nancy would take on his last name and they’d make a whole army of little Harringtons. Not anymore, though. Not by a long shot. You've told him he deserves better enough times to make him see it. It wasn't Nancy there helping him pick up the pieces. She was the reason he was in pieces that needed to be picked up. 

“What’s the big deal? I mean… if we were doing something else,” he averts his gaze to avoid yours.

He knows the question will draw your eyes to him. Truthfully, he isn't sure what you’d find. Anxiety? Vulnerability? Longing? It’s normal to long for friends, right? Sure it is. He longs for Robin sometimes. That’s to say, he misses her. He can let himself believe that's the same thing.

“I just don't want to see you hurt, Stevie,” you sigh honestly.

It’s like you reached directly into his chest and squeezed his heart. The softness that holds each word brushes over his cheek.

“I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry,” he tells you, finally risking a glance.

Your eyes are on him like he expected. They're big, the way they get when you're thinking and feeling a lot all at once. Steve isn't sure what has you so overwhelmed, but he doesn't think you'd tell him if he asked anyways.

“I know you can. That doesn't mean I can't worry about my friend. Especially when that friend has more hair than brains,” you tease with a small smile.

“Find an original insult,” Steve breathes a laugh and finally starts eating. 

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Two days later you walk into Family Video to see Steve leaning against the counter. He nods while a pretty redhead talks about something. You can tell he has the Harrington Charm turned on. Unfortunately, the mighty have most certainly fallen. That charm didn't get him very far beyond high school. He does fine, but he was once King . 

You slink behind the counter quietly, settling in and eavesdropping.

“I know he has it and I promise ,” the redhead places a well-manicured hand on Steve’s upper arm, “I’ll get it back here by next week.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” Steve agrees.

“So, do you think you could scrub the fee?” she asks innocently.

You cringe. Scrubbing a late fee could get Steve fired. It's technically theft, at least in the eyes of the store.

“Uh- That's not really something I can do,” he explains awkwardly.

The redhead squeezes his upper arm a little. Her pink lips pull into a lovely smile.

“You would really be helping me out. I'd owe you one,” she tempts.

You can see the conflict on Steve’s face. This is Steve, though. You know he’ll pick his job over the girl. As his wingman, you’re supposed to help, but you don't entirely have the desire to. Still, you told him you would. It may take enormous effort, but you will. You take the clipboard with the list of returns to be shelved and a pen. On the top, you scribble just say yes, I’ll cover . Then you walk closer and make yourself known.

“Hey, I have the shelving list for you,” you say and shove the clipboard toward him.

He blinks at you blankly for a moment. You gesture at the paper with your eyes. When he finally looks down and reads, his eyes shoot back to you. Something that reads like appreciation can be found in them. 

“Thanks, I’ll get to this in a minute,” he nods.

You smile and go back toward where your little cubbies are under the far wall behind the counter. Around the time you feel like you’re caving in on yourself, Steve comes back over. Why does helping your friend feel so shitty? It’s like dragging a ten-ton weight behind you with a rope. Steve’s hand finds your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hey, seriously, thanks. I got her number,” he says proudly and shows off the digits on the bottom corner of the list.

You smile with all the enthusiasm you don't feel. 

“What are wingmen for?” you shrug.

“If I actually get a date this week, I’ll buy you whatever dinner you want.”

“Even the expensive place near the old train station?” You ask with raised eyebrows.

“Anywhere,” he confirms.

“I don't mind the sound of that.”

You manage to help Steve get two more phone numbers that shift. Each one added to the weight at your back. The heaviness is unfamiliar, unknown. It makes feeling it all the more frustrating. Your mood is sour by the time you're leaving. Thankfully, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Steve always drives you home when you work together. Sometimes even when you don’t.

“You’ll be a boyfriend again before you know it, Stevie,” you tell him as the two of you get in his car.

“God, it sounds so lame when you put it like that. Is that what I’ve sounded like?” He’s utterly displeased with himself.

“Yes, but that's not unusual. You always sound lame,” you tease. 

“You’re the one that still listens,” he scoffs.

“It lets me know that no matter how lame I am, I’m never as lame as you.”

Steve shakes his head and starts the car. It comes to life and thrums around you. Slowly, warmth begins to spill from the vents.

“You're at least as lame as I am,” he protests.

“Trying to drag me down with you, Stevie? That's low,” you tsk playfully.

“I’m dragging you everywhere with me,” he huffs a laugh. 

For some reason, it’s like a bonfire explodes inside of you. Hot, crackling, and unruly. His words hit you like a bag of sand. Now they sit on your lap, holding on for the ride home.

“Guess I should hold on tight, then,” you mumble. 

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

It's such a simple sentence that really means nothing at all. It's a joke, something to laugh about. Yet, the impact it has is anything but funny. His voice warms all the parts of you the vents haven't reached yet. His words cradle you in comfort. Don't worry, I got you . Steve has you. You don't have to worry and you don't. You trust Steve to have you. You’d give yourself to him in a heartbeat. 

That's when it hits you, when the other shoe drops, when the proverbial trolley crashes into you on the tracks. You would give yourself to Steve in a heartbeat. You would do anything for Steve even if you hate every second of it. You want Steve to have you. In every way, you can think of and more, you realize you want Steve.

Oh, fuck , you think. 

You try not to think about it. You really do. It’s just hard when you spend most of your time with Steve. Most of that time Steve has been talking about his upcoming dates. Feigning excitement is hard, but not impossible. You’re getting better at it with more practice. 

The problem is using all that energy to fake excitement leaves you lacking in other areas. There’s a nice enough guy who hints at being attracted to you while you scan his rental, but it goes clean over your head. Not Steve’s, though. Apparently, you were such a good wingman he’s determined to return the favor. You wish you could remember what Steve said that ended with the guy’s number in your hand. 

Even now, as you sit in his passenger seat you're not sure how you got here. C’mon, it’s been so long since you've gone on a date. Go have some fun! Steve had insisted, much to your dismay. You had no interest in going on a date with Richie, or whatever this guy’s name is. You want to go on a date with Steve, but how can you tell him that? He’s your best friend and clearly doesn't feel the same for you. You’re sure if he did he'd be confident and cocky enough to ask you out. So, fuck it , you figured. Might as well go on the date and get a free meal out of it. 

“You work a lot, then?” Ricky, you think, asks awkwardly. 

You should figure out his name.

“Yep,” you answer dryly.

“And- uh- your coworker… Is there something going on there?”

Your eyes shoot to him. He’s ruggedly handsome, face pleasing in an ageless way. It’s not that you’re not attracted to him. You're just preoccupied.

“Who? Steve? No, we’ve just been friends for a while. We were in that mall fire together,” you explain, voice getting more distant as your thoughts travel to the past.

“ Oh …”

The air between you grows tense and awkward. You begin to feel bad. It isn't this guy’s fault you came to an unfortunate realization about your feelings for Steve. It isn't his fault you agreed to this date. 

“What about you? What do you do?”

You listen to him drone on about some firm he works for. Which, firm ? How old is this guy again? He brings you to a nice restaurant a town over. The conversation isn't awful, but it becomes pretty clear you don't have much in common. At least on your end. His job sounds professional and so adult . He talks about paperwork, finances, and spreadsheets. You're nineteen working at a movie rental store. 

“Wow, you sound like you really have it together,” you breathe a nervous laugh over your glass of water.

You don't miss him sipping from his glass of wine, eyeing you over the glass the entire time. 

“Is that something you’re looking for?” he asks, placing his glass down gently.

“What? Someone who has it together?”

He nods.

“I don't know. I don't think I can really judge when I don't have it together,” you shrug. 

“Well, I could always help with that,” he smiles.

“How’s that?” You arch a brow at him.

“I was raised to take care of people. You’re looking for someone who has it together and I’m looking for someone to care for. Feels like a match made in heaven, if you ask me,” he suggests casually, leaning forward just enough to make you lean back.

“I’m sorry?” you question.

He takes another, slow sip of wine. His eyes never leave you. A chill runs down your spine. All chatter and clattering of silverware fall away.

“I just think we can fulfill each other’s needs,” he elaborates poorly.

Your skin begins to crawl uncomfortably. What is this guy getting at? This is suddenly feeling less like a date and more like a business proposal. 

“I don't think we’re looking for the same thing,” you attempt to chuckle and keep things light.

“I think we are,” he counters.

You blink at him for a moment. What the hell is with this guy? You find yourself wanting to tell him you need to use the bathroom. That way you can sneak off to call Steve and ask him to come get you. 

“I’m not looking to be taken care of,” you lie. 

You are, just not by him. Not by anyone, but by the one person who always has and you know always will. Not by anyone, but Steve. 

“You can't tell me you want to be working at Family Video. With me, you won't have to worry about working. I’d put you in a nice apartment, take you out to places nicer than this, and take you anywhere you want to go,” he drawls with a smug smile.

It takes everything to fight off your grimace. There's no way he’s serious. This is something that only happens in movies or porn. Is this a prank?

“How old are you?” you ask.

“Old enough to have done this before.”

Your stomach twists unpleasantly. What have you gotten yourself into? How do you get yourself out of it? The image of your body dumped behind a dumpster somewhere flashes in your head. Who knows what saying no may bring? 

“Wow- I mean, this is… a lot. Erm, it’s a lot to consider. Could I think about it?” you try to sound as polite as possible.

“Sure,” he agrees with a smile you don't trust. 

The rest of the dinner goes by well enough. Something rests on the edge of his voice you can't identify. Regardless it sends a chill down your spine. Ronnie, you think his name could be, takes every chance to remind you of the offer. He tacks things on here and there. You know what the trade-off is, though. It isn't one you’re willing to make. You’d work at Family Video for the rest of your life first. 

At the end of the night, he hooks his arm through yours. On the outside, it probably seems like a sweet gesture. In reality, it feels like he’s holding you hostage. He’s making sure you can't go anywhere, but where he wants you to go. You hide your discomfort with a closed-lip smile. All you have to do is get home and then you never have to think about Remy or whatever his name is again. You should really figure that out in case you need to file a police report. 

He seems to drive slower on the way back. It’s already a good twenty-minute drive, but at this rate, it’ll take thirty. The sun has fallen below the horizon and the Indiana trees feel even more imposing shrouded in darkness. You mostly keep your head turned and your eyes out the window. 

“You’re a nice one, y’know that?” He muses after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you reply with a glance in his direction.

“There's more than just looks there. You have a good head on your shoulders, I can tell. Smart, y’got personality. We really could have a good time together,” he tempts once more.

You can't take it anymore. Skin crawling, spine chilled, and heart-pounding you know you need to make it clear. At the very least, you need to draw a line. 

“I’d really appreciate some time to think about it,” you answer evenly.

“How much is there really to think about? I’m offering you everything on a silver platter. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your shoes?” He questions growing irate.

“Then go find one of them. I’m not interested in being kept in an apartment somewhere for you to have sex with,” you snap.

His right hand finds your thigh. The meat of your thigh squishes under the pressure of his fingers. 

“Maybe you just need to try it first,” he purrs.

You furiously shove his hand away.

“Yeah, no fucking thanks,” you spit. 

The car screeches as he slams on his brakes. Your seatbelt goes taut as you lurch forward. It rubs a thin slice of a red burn on your neck from the movement and force.

“Get out,” he orders calmly.

“ What ?” you scoff.

“Get the fuck out of my car,” he snaps venomously.

Afraid, you do what he says. Before you can even get the door shut all the way, he’s speeding off. You watch until the red trunk of his car is no longer discernible, only his tail lights. Those too eventually fade. You look around. You’re stranded on the side of the road connecting Hawkins to the next town. It’s dark, cold, and terrifying to be alone out here. In your first stroke of luck this evening, you can see lights ahead. There’s a gas station not far up the road, dimly lit and flickering. The place is clearly old but still operational. Two pumps that look fresh from the 50s sit outside a small shack of a building. The windows are ablaze with neon signs advertising different beers. 

When you step inside it smells of tobacco and plastic. There's a woman at the counter with stringy blond hair and dark makeup around her eyes. She chews gum and regards you with disinterest. You ask to use her phone, explaining it's an emergency. After a moment of sizing you up, she slaps a landline on top of the counter from behind it. You grab the receiver and punch in Steve’s number.

“Yeah?” he answers, mouth sounding full.

Relief floods your system.

“Hey, could you come get me?” your voice comes out quieter than you expect. 

“Where are you?” He’s much clearer now.

You can hear him shuffling in the background. The sound makes you smile. Steve is coming. Don't worry, I got you . Yes, he does. You tell him where you are. He orders you to stay put before hanging up. You wait on the curb outside for him. The cold bite of the air is actually kind of refreshing after this hellish night. 

Steve’s BMW pulls up in front of you with all the angry body language you’re sure he holds. He’s rushing up to you before you even realize the car is in park. Honey brown eyes search you over for any sign of injury or foul play. He crouches before you, hands on your upper arms.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks breathlessly.

As soon as your eyes meet his tears well up in the corners. You throw yourself forward. Steve falls back on his butt as he catches you in his arms. It’s like being welcomed home. You manage to tell him everything without becoming a blubbering mess. Tears stream silently down your cheeks as you sit in Steve’s lap outside the gas station. He wipes them away as he listens, only growing more furious by the word.

“He did what ?” Steve demands.

“Just take me home, Stevie,” you sigh.

His face softens. He nods, helps you up, and opens the passenger door for you. You lean back comfortably in Steve’s car. The space, the smell, and the sounds are all familiar. You’re okay, you’re safe. Steve’s got you.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly when he gets into the car.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it.”

You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze.

“You’re the one saving me tonight, not leaving me stranded.”

He offers you a tight-lipped smile before starting the drive home. You’re not sure whether he’s taking you to your house or his at first. All it takes is one left instead of a right for you to know he's bringing you to his. Another wave of relief washes over you. You’ll be alone at Steve’s. That means free to feel your emotions and vent as much and as loud as you want. Somehow, Steve always manages to know what you need, even before you do.

For a while only the vents make noise. You allow yourself the time to process that god-awful date. How is that guy even real? How do people like that actually exist? It’s right when you’re having that thought that you see it. The shiny red trunk you watched abandon you in the middle of nowhere in the cold dark of an Indiana night. If his car is parked in front of his house then he lives only a few streets down from Steve.

“He fucking lives here?” you think aloud.

Steve brakes instantly, but not nearly as hard as your awful date. It wouldn't have caused your seatbelt to burn you, that's for sure. He’s already staring at you when you look at him.

“What? Did you see him?” Steve questions and cranes his neck to look out your window.

“No, but that,” you point it out, “is his car.”

Steve’s eyes study the car for a moment. Then, he nods like he was having a conversation with himself. He pulls to the side of the road ahead, a few feet past the street sign. Out of view through the trees from the houses on the street. At first, you think he may just want to talk about it. Then you hear the distinct click of his seatbelt unbuckling. 

“What are you…” the words die on your lips as he exits the car.

You follow suit in utter confusion. The trunk opens right when you make it around the car. Before you can ask, Steve reaches in and pulls out a metal baseball bat. The ground seems to go soft beneath you from the memories it throws at you. Memories of another bat cracking against the head of an eldritch horror hovering over you, about to consume you. You can still feel Steve’s grasp as he yanked you up and positioned you behind him. It was thoughtless, first nature. 

Steve doesn't bother closing the trunk. Calmly and wordlessly, he approaches the chariot that pulled your terrible night. Your mouth opens to ask, but he answers your question before you need to. As he strolls up, the bat spins in his hand in an easy fluid movement like a baton, before he swings at the back windshield full force.

The shattering of glass makes you flinch. Wide-eyed, you watch Steve as he swings at the car again and again and again . All the windows are broken by the end, dents litter the body, and both side view mirrors are sent flying. It’s pulse-pounding, thrilling, and fucking hot . You don't know how no one came out of any of the houses, but you’re left alone on the street. When he’s satisfied with the damage done, Steve spits at the car and turns on his heel. 

He begins making his way back to his own unharmed car. His arm pulls you into his side as he goes by. Steve walks you back to his car with his metal bat over one shoulder and his opposite arm around your shoulders. You allow yourself to melt into him. You allow yourself to pretend for a moment that this is more than it is.

The bat gets tossed back into his trunk lazily before he shuts it. You don't say anything as you get back in the car. Neither of you says anything until you’re driving again. 

“Do you feel better?” you ask lightheartedly.

“Yep,” he sighs, shoulders loosening. 

“You’re kind of amazing, y’know that?” You breathe a chuckle.

He spares a glance at you. The corners of his mouth upturned just enough to be noticeable. You have the overwhelming desire to kiss the corners of his mouth, but you manage to restrain yourself. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” he asks gloatingly. 

You roll your eyes but smile all the same.

“Yes, Stevie, I do. You were a very good boy tonight,” you tell him like you’re telling a dog.

You give him a teasing pat on the head. Steve’s reaction is strange. He goes still, maybe even stiff. After a second, he clears his throat and swallows.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

After arriving at Steve’s, it doesn't take long to change into some of his pajamas and crawl into his bed. You’re out like a light in a matter of minutes. Steve lays on his soft comfy bed, one arm behind his head, and the other wrapped around you as you sleep on his chest. He stares up into the darkness of his room. Your weight is a comfort. Your breathing is soothing. 

You were a very good boy tonight . Just the echo of the words in his head causes heat to shoot up his neck to the top of his head. Steve sighs heavily as the delusion finally breaks. He’s done an excellent job convincing himself this is just a good friendship and always has been. Until now, when you called him with a trembling voice for a ride. When you told him how creepy and gross the guy was. When you pointed out his car. Steve didn't hesitate once to take a bat to it. That was incredibly stupid, but he’d do it again. For you, he'd do it again. For you, he’d do everything and anything.

Shit , he thinks.

Robin hangs her head upside down off the side of your bed. You fold your laundry on the plush carpet. Band practice got canceled due to the teacher being out so Robin appeared on your doorstep with her newfound extra time. Her light blue socks gently sway up and down in opposite patterns.

“Wait, so Steve took a bat to the guy’s car?” Robin laughs incredulously.

You nod with a grin. 

“Wow, he has it worse than I thought,” she comments only half to herself.

The shirt you're folding is abandoned at Robin’s words. You turn furrowed brows to her. 

“What does that mean?” you ask.

Robin merely blinks at you. When it's clear you aren't going to continue or exclaim you're joking, she speaks.

“Listen, I love you, but I’m not going to be responsible for thousands of dollars worth of property damage for you over a bad date,” she tells you.

“Rude, but fair. Steve can afford it. Well, his parents can,” you shrug.

Robin rolls her eyes and shakes her head. It’s funny to watch when she's upside down.

“I think he has a date tonight,” Robin watches you carefully as she says it.

Your face flashes with something, a fire burning hot on your features. It’s schooled quickly, though. With a clearing of your throat, you go back to folding.

“That’s good. Good for him,” you give a curt nod. 

Robin rolls her eyes once more, but you don't see this time. She loves you and Steve. You two are her absolute best friends. That's why this has been so frustrating. At first, she was jealous and a little confused. Separately, she was confident in her status as your and Steve’s best friend. After the two of you became friends, that confidence wavered. You seemed to like each other so much more than you like her.

After watching you two for a couple of weeks, it hit her. You don't like each other more . You like each other differently . Robin has never seen you look at her the way you look at Steve, and vice versa. Actually, Robin has never seen Steve look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even Nancy. This realization was both the best and the worst. The best because she knew she was still your guys’ favorite friend. The worst because you two couldn't seem to see that you’re more than each other’s friend. 

She wishes she knew when it happened. She knows when she noticed . It was a normal day at work. Somehow you all managed to swing a shift together by arguing the holiday season made you busier. It does, by about three customers a day. 

Robin had her feet up on the counter and her head hanging over the back of her chair lazily. The rubber of her sneakers squeaked against the counter when she shifted. At first, she was watching you two with seething jealousy. The way you were bumping each other, giggling, and smiling. Almost as if Robin wasn't there at all. Then it happened. 

Steve’s chin dropped to his chest as he chuckled once more at something you said. When he looks up again, he has a lock of light fluffy hair cast over his forehead. Thoughtlessly, you reach out and push it back. When his hair is uniform once more you give him a satisfied smile. Oh , Robin realized silently, they like each other . 

Then you looked back down at the list you were marking up as Steve read you the returned titles. Steve’s slightly parted lips melt into the softest smile Robin is sure has ever graced his features. His eyes turn into a liquid golden brown swimming in affection. He went back to reading off the titles, squinting and holding the covers close to his face to compensate for the bad vision he was gifted with while working at Scoops. He gives you another playful nudge. That’s when you stole another look at him. Your own expression mirrored that of Steve’s previous one. Oh, they love each other . 

Needless to say, Robin felt much more secure in her friendships following that revelation. She knows you guys still love her. You just love each other in a different way. Keeping it to herself has been the most difficult thing she's had to do. Until she realized that it wasn't just her that noticed it. It was everyone . Maybe it was the way Steve went for you first at Starcourt when everything got serious. Maybe it was the way he nearly died twice trying to save you, only for you to turn around and up him by one. Maybe it was the way Steve carried you on his back, limp and bleeding, to the ambulance because he wouldn't let anyone take you from him. 

“Is it? Good, I mean?” Robin asks.

You throw her a questioning glance.

“Why wouldn't it be?” you counter.

She shrugs the best she can in her current position. You eye her suspiciously. Has she already caught on to what you’ve only just realized? 

“She just didn't seem like his type,” she comments.

“Isn’t his type just whoever will say yes to a date with him?” you joke.

Robin chuckles lightly.

“I think you're more his type if I had to describe it.”

You blink at her, face catching fire. 

“ What ? When have you ever seen Steve even flirt with someone who looks anything like me?” you scoff, heart pounding almost painfully.

“Only every day I’m with the two of you,” Robin blurts out before she can think better of it.

Honestly, she's just proud she's managed not to this long. 

“Not this again,” you sigh, “Just because Steve and I like to joke around doesn't mean we're flirting.”

“Okay,” she says clearly unconvinced. 

You roll your eyes and move the conversation to other things. Work, school, anything other than Steve, and your feelings for him. 

You know you’re dreaming instantly. You’ve gotten good at identifying the nightmares. They used to come every night, indiscernible from reality. The more time went on and the more medicine you were prescribed helped tamp them down. Now, you’re on two medications. One to get you to sleep, and one to control the nightmares. When the nightmares do come it's easy to tell.

That's why when you blink and look around, taking in the chaos of Starcourt Mall, you know you're dreaming. You can feel the tug of the Mindflayer. You can see its attempt to add you to its compendium of Flayed, to absorb you into its form. Steve never comes to your aid in your dreams. He never grabs you out of the way, he never smashes attacks away from you with a bat he found in the rubble of an athletics store as you bled on the tile. 

Which means you never return the favor. In your dreams, you bleed out on the ground surrounded by the ruins of the mall. You watch Steve get impaled because you’re not there to stop it. You’re not there to push him out of the way, you’re not there to let your ankle get grabbed instead, and you’re not there to nearly give your life for him without a thought. 

You wake with a start. Breathing comes stuttered and heavy, sweat drips down the back of your neck, and your shirt sticks to your skin. Every part of you trembles, skin crawling uncontrollably. You fumble for the phone on your bedside table. It was just a dream, you know that. You know it wasn't real, but some of it was at one point. You need to hear Steve’s voice, you need to know he’s okay.

The numbers get punched in frantically. There are three rings before the other end of the line gets picked up.

“Hello?” Steve's voice answers thick with sleep. 

A heaving relieved sigh leaves your body.

“Steve,” your voice comes out cracked and small. 

“Whoa- hey, hey, what’s going on?” He sounds much more alert, yet soft. 

“Nothing, I just… I had a nightmare. I'm sorry to wake you. I-”

“Just give me ten minutes,” he tells you.

“What?”

“Be outside, I’ll be there in ten.”

You think of protesting. It’s late. The alarm clock reads two in the morning and you know Steve opens tomorrow. It was just a nightmare you don't need him to-

“Okay, I will,” you answer against your better judgment. 

Steve pulls up in front of your house still in his flannel pajamas and slippers. A pair of silver wire frames, the lenses rounded off rectangles, sit on his face. The image makes you smile softly and pull the throw blanket over your shoulders around you tightly. Steve leans over the empty passenger seat to look at you through the window.

“Hey, there, moonlight,” he teases.

You look down at yourself. You do give off the illusion of glowing under the moon with your white blanket covering you. Heat rises to your cheeks at the nickname. 

“Hey, Stevie,” you smile a little.

“C’mon, let’s get back to bed,” he gestures for you to get in.

You do without hesitation. Steve buckles your seatbelt before you have a chance to remove your arms from the blanket. Then you’re heading in the direction of his house. Your parents won't be alarmed to find you gone in the morning. You’re an adult, plus you’ve been pulling stunts like this your whole life. Running away with Robin, sneaking out to parties, and going out on nighttime walks when you couldn't sleep. You don't need to walk anymore, though.

“I’m sorry I called,” you sigh after a few minutes of driving.

Steve glances at you with slightly furrowed brows. He’s unbelievably handsome even like this. 

“Don't be. I’m glad you called,” he tells you.

“Steve, it’s after two in the morning,” you chuckle, “you don't have to pretend I didn't wake you up.”

“Well, I never said you didn't, but… If you’re having a bad night I want you to call me. I’ll always come when you call.”

You can't help but stare at him. Especially since he can't stare back. You get to trace the lines of his face with your eyes, commit the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose to memory and take in the breathtaking image of your best friend promising to be there for you. 

“Even if you’re on a date?” You ask, remembering what Robin had told you.

Steve spares another curious glance in your direction. 

“Actually… I think I’m done with dates for a while,” he informs you and turns his attention back to the stretch of road in front of you.

“Really? Why?”

He shrugs.

“I thought you missed being in a relationship? Being someone’s boyfriend?” you question, confused.

Steve’s head tilts right and left in consideration.

“Yeah, I do, but… I dunno, it’s different now. I’m different now.” 

Steve pulls into his driveway. He kills the engine, but neither of you makes any moves.

“What do you mean?” 

“You think King Steve would’ve been caught dead wearing these?” He taps the side of his glasses, the left lens a little thicker than the right. 

You laugh lightly.

“No, I guess not. What does that have to do with dating, though?”

“I think King Steve was more of a dating guy,” he says thoughtfully.

“What about Stevie?” You smile teasingly.

“Stevie,” he breathes a laugh, “I think, is more the long-term relationship type.”

“How will you get into a relationship without dating?” 

Steve’s eyes flit around your face from behind his lenses, seeing you the clearest he has in a while. His mouth is open as if to answer, but words fail him. What if I want to get into a relationship with you? is what he wants to say. Instead, he just forces a small smile and shrugs.

“I have no clue,” he answers, “We should get inside.”

You follow Steve into his house. His parents clearly aren't home because the heat is cranked up to Steve’s liking. Not that they’re usually home. Steve talks about getting his own place a lot, but you know whatever money he has is what he makes at Family Video. His parents have long since ceased helping in that area. When you reach his bedroom he tosses his keys onto his dresser. He kicks off his slippers and flops back into his bed. You crawl in not long after, abandoning your throw blanket on the floor. 

It takes no effort or thought for Steve to welcome you into his arms or for you to melt into him. Cuddling isn't new for you. Just like it isn't new for you and Robin, or even Robin and Steve. This admittedly feels different this time, though. The way Steve holds you is different. Despite your size difference not being that great, his body somehow manages to swallow yours wholly. You're lost in the feeling of Steve surrounding you.

“What was it?” he asks, throat vibrating against your head.

“What?”

“Your nightmare.”

“Oh… it was the mall, but you don't come for me in my nightmares. I have to watch you die,” you whisper.

Steve’s hold on you tightens.

“I’ve had ones like that too,” he admits.

You pull back from his embrace to look at him in his now glasses-less face. 

“You have?” 

He gives you a tight-lipped wry smile. 

“In mine, I have to watch you get sucked into that thing . There's nothing I can do, but watch.”

You search what you can see of his features in the dark of his room. 

“I’ll always come for you too, Stevie,” you tell him earnestly, but quietly. 

You can make out his widened smile.

“I know you will, moonlight. Now, come back here so we can go to sleep, I have work in the morning,” he gives the order lightly.

You comply, face burning at him calling you moonlight once more. The rest of the night's sleep comes peacefully like it always does when you’re with Steve.

Steve gets ready as quietly as possible in the morning. That means he can't blow dry his hair to perfection the way he likes. When he looks over your peacefully sleeping form a smile crawls onto his face. You’re here, you’re in his bed, you’re sleeping, and you’re okay. Steve is willing to sacrifice his hair’s normal volume for one day if it means letting you sleep longer. Especially after the night you had. 

He leaves you to sleep with a note telling you when he’ll be back. His car still smells like you. A crisp scent of apples and cinnamon. You’re like a walking apple pie and he’s following behind floating like a cartoon. 

Robin is already behind the counter at Family Video when Steve arrives. She squints at him the moment he enters.

“Something’s different,” she states.

“I didn't do anything different,” Steve says as he makes his way around the counter.

“Your hair! It’s not so…,” she makes motions around her head with her hands, “ overwhelming .”

Steve instinctively feels his hair. He gives Robin a defensive glare. 

“I didn't have a chance to blow dry it this morning, okay? Is it really that bad?” He asks as he ducks down to look at his reflection on the blank computer screen.

It’s hard to tell what parts are distorted by the curve of the screen and what parts actually look like that. It's even harder for Steve to really tell what any of it looks like without his glasses. His glasses sit securely next to the note he left for you. If he’s out of the house, those glasses aren't. He knows it's a dumb thing to hold onto, but it feels too personal. It's like wearing all the scars and trauma from the past couple of years, but the last one especially , on his face. 

“Why didn't you have a chance to blow dry it? I thought you had your morning routine down to a science,” Robin teases.

Steve opens his mouth to tell her about your night but quickly snaps it shut. Why does it feel private? Your sudden and sporadic sleepovers are nothing new, but this time feels… more intimate. It could just be Steve’s acceptance of his feelings for you, but he wants to keep last night for himself.

“I woke up late,” he lies. 

She cocks an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing on the corners of her mouth.

“Late night?” she asks.

He glares at his best friend. 

“Couldn't sleep,” he says.

Robin's expression softens to sympathy.

“Are you having nightmares again?” 

“Not really… Well, sometimes.”

She nods in understanding. She places a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder briefly. Steve is endlessly grateful for Robin. That’s why he feels so fucking guilty for lying to her. He just couldn't stand to see her excited and/or smug face if he told her. She moves to the other end of the counter and crouches to start digging through the new arrivals. Steve stays where he is looking at his distorted reflection.

“Hey, Rob?” 

“Yeah?”

“I… I think you’re right,” Steve sighs.

Robin looks at him over her shoulder curiously.

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I’m right a lot.”

Steve rolls his eyes but breathes a small laugh. There’s no keeping it in anymore. He isn't sure he wants to. 

“It is flirting,” he admits. 

Robin stands fully with a shit-eating grin. She bounces on her heels in delight. 

“ Finally ! God, it took you long enough!” she exclaims.

Steve smiles a little at her enthusiasm. The admission brings a lightness to his chest. A rush of excitement over something new. 

“I don't know when it happened,” he says. 

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not,” he places a hand on his forehead, pushing his hair up, “Shit, I think I’m in love, Rob.”

“Awe, Stevie , you’re definitely in love,” she coos teasingly.

Steve allows his face to scrunch up in distaste this time. 

“Okay, you gotta stop calling me that. It’s just… not right,” he tells her. 

Robin cackles wildly. Steve smiles and shakes his head at her. She goes back to the new arrivals, humming happily to herself about being right. Steve boots the computer up to start the day, unable to fight the smile at the prospect. He’s in love.

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal when he gets home. The stove clock reads 3:15 pm. Steve smiles softly at the sight of you in your pajamas over a bowl of Lucky Charms. You smile when his movement catches your eye.

“Welcome back,” you greet.

Steve gets struck by lightning in the heart. What he would give to come back to this every time. It's a sudden and startling revelation, but this is what Steve wants. He wants you, waiting for him to come home, greeting him with a smile. He wants to wait for you, have food ready for you by the time you get back, and be prepared to fight off any weight the day has saddled you with. Whatever the future holds, and in Hawkins there's never any telling, he just wants you by his side to face it with. 

“Sorry if you weren't expecting me to still be here,” you say sheepishly under his gaze.

Steve blinks, realizing he’s just been staring softly,

“No, no, I’m happy you’re still here,” he assures you. 

“I can go whenever… I just kinda liked the feeling of knowing someone was coming back,” you admit with a small smile at your cereal.

It melts Steve’s heart. He sits on the barstool beside you. 

“You sound like you’re going soft on me, moonlight,” he teases with a nudge of his elbow.

Your face flushed red with the nickname like it has every time so far. It delights Steve to no end to elicit that reaction from you. It makes him think maybe you feel the same and the flirting wasn’t one-sided. Robin swears up and down that you like him back, but it's not that easy to accept. Not when he knows there are so many reasons not to. Not when there are so many ways you could do better.

“I hate to say it, but I've been soft on you, Stevie,” you shoot back with a coy smile.

It isn't how he meant it and you know it. A dirty trick to fluster him back, but you had to level the playing field between you. Steve’s ears might as well be airplane beacons with how red they get.

“That right?” He replies, a little hoarse.

You finally allow yourself to really take him in. Everything is normal. Family Video vest in place, name tag with the last e crossed out in black sharpie, and an ie written over it in your handwriting. You haven't seen that one in a while. Actually, you thought he had gotten rid of it when you got the shipment of new uniforms. Seeing it makes your heart flutter. Then there's his hair. It falls flatter than you've ever seen it atop his head. You furrow your brows at him.

“What happened to your hair?” you question.

His hands cover his hair as much as possible, flattening it even more. 

“Is it really that bad?” He’s genuinely asking. 

You chuckle and shake your head.

“No, but… what happened? It's not like you to leave the house with it less than three inches tall,” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes and drops his hands to the island countertop.

“You were asleep this morning,” he shrugs like that explains everything.

“So?” 

“So, I didn't want to wake you up by blow-drying my hair,” he elaborates softly.

The words warm your heart. It’s such a small thing, but it's also somehow everything coming from him. A small fond smile crawls onto your lips.

“Why didn't you just go into a bathroom that isn't your en suite?” you ask amused.

He looks at you confused. His eyebrows are drawn together, a slight frown is present. 

“I didn't think about it,” he huffs a laugh at himself.

You laugh with him, admiring his smile. 

“Well, I appreciate it either way.”

He nods with a thoughtful expression. Then his features scrunch up comically as if he’s thinking really hard.

“Is it weird I wanna go back to bed?” he asks.

“I could go for more bed,” you nod.

The two of you end up cuddled into each other, lost beneath Steve’s comforter, and enjoying the warmth of the other. You both know this is crossing over the line of friendship now. Hopping into bed and attaching yourselves to each other just because you want to? This is definitely something more, but that’s for you to sort through later. Right now you just want to be absorbed by Steve. 

You can feel Robin’s eyes on you despite not even facing her direction. You’re busy dealing with a short line while Robin reshelves returns. She has Steve’s swarm of adolescents around her chattering quietly. When the line is gone and you’re sorting through what VHSs you got back you sigh.

“What is it?” you call across the store to them.

“What?” Robin squeaks, entirely unconvincing. 

You see Max roll her eyes and Dustin smack his forehead at her. It brings an amused smile to your lips. Mike and Lucas are actually discussing a movie to rent in the aisle next to them. 

“I can feel you watching me. What’s up?” You ask. 

Max and Dustin exchange glances, their eyebrows elevated. Robin’s eyes flicker to them and then back to you, an amused smirk finding its way to her face. She points at you, holding back a giggle.

“Doesn't Steve have a vest with a stain on the bottom just like that?” She raises her eyebrows at you.

You look down at the stain in question. It’s from the time a pen exploded in Steve’s hand as he was writing. Some of the ink landed on the bottom hem of his vest. The vest you’re wearing now because you forgot yours when you slept over last night. You didn't think anyone would notice. Of course, Robin would notice something as minuscule as that.

“Uh- maybe, I don't know,” you shrug. 

“He definitely does. I remember him complaining about it,” Max pipes up. 

Her hair sits in twin braids on her shoulders over a dark green work jacket, a striped dark orange shirt, and converse not too different from Robin’s on her feet. As always, headphones sit around her neck attached to the walkman on her hip. Dustin wears an amused grin under his Thinking Cap . He has an obnoxiously patterned button-up layered over a t-shirt from a robotics competition. 

“Okay, so, I borrowed Steve’s vest. What’s the big deal?” you grow defensive.

“ Why did you borrow Steve's vest?” Dustin questions with a smirk.

“He gave me a ride in and I left mine at home. What's with you guys?” It isn't entirely a lie.

Steve did drive you to work this morning. You did forget your vest at home. However, you don't mention that you forgot it last night before Steve picked you up. He was the one with the nightmare this time. 

“Nothing, you guys have just been spending more time together,” Max shrugs casually.

You fight off the burn on your cheeks.

“Are we not allowed to hang out?” you shoot back.

“You are! You've just been doing it more… without me,” Robin points out.

“Rob, you're in school or at band practice half the time. Are we not allowed to see each other until you're available?” You can hear how defensive you sound.

It isn't doing you any favors, but it's hard to stop at this point. Figuring out what’s going on between you and Steve has only gotten more difficult as the nights together quickly become consistent. They’ve also slowly strayed further from friendship. Never in any way serious, but enough to make your head spin. 

A hand on the skin of your lower back beneath your shirt. A thigh slot between your legs. A kiss pressed lightly to the top of your head. Your own lips briefly meet his neck in return. Your hands find purchase wherever will give you the best vantage to pull him closer. It all feels like such a fragile ecosystem. Questions or prying eyes could threaten it.

“I didn't say that! It’s nice that you two are getting closer,” she says with a small smile.

Max nudges Dustin with her elbow.

“Yeah, they’re getting closer ,” she coos and makes a teasing kissy face at him.

He pushes her away lightly with a laugh.

“ Ew , I don't want to think about Steve sucking face,” he complains lightheartedly.

Your face burns so hot you're sure you could fry an egg on your cheek. You grumble something about going on your break and stalk off into the back room. Robin isn't far behind you. 

“Wait- I’m sorry,” she sighs. 

You turn to face her, arms crossed over your chest.

“I really think you and Steve would be great together. Anyone with eyes can see it. I can see it and I can't tell what I’m feeling most of the time! If we're being annoying it's only because we love you and we want you to be happy,” she explains with pleading eyes. 

To Robin’s surprise, you frown. The truth is, knowing that they see something between you and Steve makes it worse. It makes it more confusing. A mean little part of you is sure Steve is only projecting his desires for a relationship on you because you're there. You're easy. Once someone who grabs his attention, someone more interesting, someone less needy comes along he’ll be gone. You just want to hang on to the pieces he gives you in the privacy of his bedroom. 

“I appreciate that, Robs, I really do. I’m gonna go grab lunch,” you force a weak smile at your best friend.

You know it isn't convincing, but it's the best you can do. Robin’s brows furrow in concern. You push past Robin and exit Family Video without looking at the kids. When you get back thirty minutes later the kids are gone. Robin processes the last of the returns behind the counter. For a moment, it feels like nothing has changed at all. Somehow that's even more crushing.

It just falls out. You don't mean to let it slip, but how could you not? The bed was empty when you woke. The alarm clock read 3 am. Steve is at the dining table with a newspaper and a pen in his hand. His cheek leans against his free hand, pushing one side of his glasses up a bit. Every now and then he circles something in the paper. He’s a picture of domestic bliss that you long to make your reality. That's when it slips.

“You look really good in those.”

Steve’s attention shoots up to you, eyes wide behind his lenses. His pen hovers over the paper and he still leans on his hand. His reddened cheeks are angled up to really see you. You watch the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows down nothing.

“In what?” he asks lamely.

Your own face burns as you realize the conversation you’ve put yourself in. 

“Er- your glasses. You- I- … They suit you,” you fumble your words. 

A soft adoring smile appears on Steve’s lips. It only warms your face more. What happened to the quips you used to be able to throw at him with no effort?

“You really think so? You don't think they make me look old?” He sits up, dropping the hand that once supported him to the table.

You chuckle.

“No, they make you look mature. In like a handsome college professor kinda way,” you tell him.

He grows a wide teasing grin.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I think the entire world thinks you're handsome, Stevie. What’re you doing awake?” You expertly shift the conversation to dig yourself out of the hole you put yourself in.

“Just couldn't sleep,” he shrugs and points to the chair across from him with his pen, “I get restless some nights.”

You sit where he pointed. Your arms sit folded atop the table.

“Like you're waiting for something else to happen?” you postulate.

Steve nods thoughtfully.

“Yeah, exactly,” he answers, sounding relieved to be understood so easily. 

“What’re you circling?” you nod toward the newspaper before him.

Heat rushes up Steve’s entire body until he’s sure he’s going to whistle like a teapot. This isn't that big of a deal. In fact, it's not even the first time he’s been seen doing this. It feels like getting caught this time, though. 

“Apartment listings,” he admits shyly. 

This time he’s imagining more than himself moving boxes in. Somehow that feels like being guilty of something. You nod understandingly. If only he could tell you that you don't understand. That he’s circling places he thinks you’d like as well. Even after coming face to face with monsters and Russians, Steve finds himself cowering at the thought of sharing his feelings and facing rejection. 

“Wanna come back to bed with me, Stevie?” you ask, sleep finding your voice.

Christ, how can he say no to that? Especially when you're sitting there yawning like a cute little puppy. He melts into a smile that he’s sure carries everything he wants to say on it.

“Yeah, let's go back to bed,” he agrees.

Steve doesn't like to talk about how his thoughts are just a little more scattered now. A handful of concussions and beatings have had their toll. It's just like how he doesn't like wearing his glasses in public. He doesn't want to bare too much of himself to the world. Things fall through the cracks a little easier now. Especially as he leans into the comfort of having you around at home all the time. You practically live at his house at this point. Neither of you mentions it. Neither of you tells Robin or anyone else. 

Steve’s walking out of the store with a plastic bag in one hand and his keys in the other. The bag is full of snacks for you. Not that you've asked. He just picked up some things he knows you’ve mentioned while you're at work. 

“ Steve ?” A familiar voice says, sounding almost startled.

He whips to the right and finds a few of his munchkins. They all look varying degrees of shocked. Dustin, Max, and Mike all stare from where they just exited the comic book store. 

“Hey, guys. D’you need a ride?” he offers, holding up his keys. 

The three of them exchange looks and shrugs. Steve receives a chorus of sure . They pile into the back of his car leaving him alone in the front. 

“This doesn't make me feel like a taxi at all,” he gripes as he buckles up.

“Hey, you’re the one that offered us a ride,” Mike points out. 

Steve rolls his eyes but starts driving. They’re uncharacteristically quiet in the backseat. He steals peeks at them through the rearview mirror, but he can only see the amused looks they’re sharing.

“Whose place am I going to?” he asks.

“Mine,” Mike answers.

“ Actually , what if we hang out with you, Steve,” Dustin interjects innocently.

Steve’s eyes bounce to the bag of your snacks before going back to the road. There’s evidence of you all over his house right now. Clothes, food, books, hell his bedroom is even beginning to smell like you. 

“Y’know, I’d really love to, but I’m actually pretty busy today,” he lies.

“Doing what?” Max scoffs in disbelief. 

“Adult things,” he shoots back at her.

Another set of looks gets exchanged between the three of them. It’s kinda driving Steve insane, these little silent conversations they seem to be having. Is this new? He’s never noticed them do it before. Actually, he hasn't seen them this clearly in-

Steve’s eyes shoot to their reflection in the rearview mirror. His silver frames sit securely on the bridge of his nose. Embarrassment floods his system briefly. It’s soon pushed out by your voice in his head. You look really good in those . Maybe the years of fighting, of going to hell and back haven't marred him. Maybe the horrors he’s faced truly haven't made him ugly.

“So, when did you get glasses?” Mike blurts out.

Dustin and Max shoot him a warning look. He sends back an apologetic one.

“Around the second concussion. This pair I got after the mall,” Steve answers honestly.

“You’ve had them that long?” Dustin questions in surprise. 

“Yeah.”

“And we’re only seeing you in them now,” Max states slowly. 

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs.

The kids let it go for now, but the strange looks don't stop. Steve chalks it up to them needing to adjust to seeing him in glasses. It’s more than that, though. Not only is Steve wearing his glasses, but he also didn't blow dry his hair this morning. He didn't want to wake you before your alarm and he never had the presence of mind in the morning to go to another bathroom. Moreover, he looks more relaxed . He's usually wound so tight, but he seems at ease. Steve looks like an entirely different person. A person his friends are starting to recognize not as King Steve, or Steve, but Stevie . 

Robin corners Steve at work. She goes on and on about how it's been so long since everyone's been together. Which, of course, means she insists on having a sleepover at Steve’s. It’s hard to say no. Steve has a weak will when it comes to his friends. He agrees with a sigh. Robin squeaks happily, bouncing on her heels. They’ll be over Friday evening. That gives Steve two days to talk to you and figure out if you want the same thing he does.

Wednesday passes like the rest of the days have. He comes home to you making dinner. Some nights you order out. You ask him about work, his day in general really. The days you work he returns the favor. If you’re working the same shift, you’ll go out to eat after. If you’re working opposite shifts Steve usually brings you whichever meal you're at work for. Robin's obviously noticed, but saying anything feels pointless when Steve has already admitted his feelings to her. At least in front of you. When they're alone she’ll tease him to no end. 

Thursday you’re closing with Robin. It’s busy right after school lets out, but quiet the rest of the night. You play a game of pong on the desktop while Robin draws on her already-covered converse. 

“So, are you excited to sleep at Steve’s tomorrow?” Robin asks absentmindedly.

You miss the little dot giving the CPU a point. Lying to her feels wrong. She’s your best friend. She was your best friend before you ever even knew Steve. It’s not that you’ve been lying to her so far, but you certainly haven't been mentioning everything . 

“Oh- uhm- I’m actually staying over tonight too,” you answer and try to recover your game. 

You can feel her eyes on the back of your neck. You can practically hear the pieces clicking together in her head.

“Do you stay over at Steve's often?”

“I’ve… been staying at Steve's the past couple weeks,” you admit without looking at her.

“Oh,” she says, then, “ oh. ”

“It’s not like that, Rob, it’s…,” the words die on your lips.

“It’s…?” Robin pushes.

“Okay, it’s like that,” you sigh, “At least it is for me. I don't know what Steve is thinking.”

You hear Robin push her chair so it rolls away from the counter and faces you. 

“You’ve been staying at Steve’s and he hasn't said anything to you?” Robin questions.

You finally turn and look at her. The pen she was using on her sneaker is tucked behind her ear. Her one knee is bent up to her chest while her other foot turns her side to side slightly in a perpetual motion.

“Neither of us has said anything. We’ve just been existing together, but I think I want more,” you find yourself unable to keep any thoughts in now that you've started sharing.

“You two are hopeless,” she rolls her eyes amused. 

“Look, I’m not going to presume to know how Steve feels. I know better than anyone that after everything we all went through… Sometimes it's just nice having someone around. If that's all this is, then I don't want to know. I would rather stay like this,” you tell her.

Robin looks torn. She’s stuck between wanting to tell you how Steve feels and wanting to keep her friend’s secrets. One thing’s for sure, she’s annoyed with him. She’s annoyed he’s dragged this out and put you in this insecure position. She also understands why. His last real relationship was with Nancy. He’s shared his fears of not being able to be in a relationship after all the trauma. Robin has always known better. Steve has so much love to give and he’s so good at giving it. 

“How do you feel?” Robin asks softly.

You look your best friend in the eyes with a small, sad smile. 

“I’m in love with him, Rob. I think I have been for a while, but I don't want to lose one of the best friends that I've ever had,” you answer. 

Your confession feels so much heftier than Steve’s. The weight of it makes Robin fully realize that this has been affecting you two different. Steve has been enjoying the comfort of having you, not feeling the express need to label anything. Meanwhile, you’ve been stuck in a loop of insecurity not knowing where you stand. She wants to tell you so bad it hurts. She doesn't know how she doesn't.

You're the first to arrive at Steve's because you’re already there. His head rests in your lap and you rake your fingers through his soft hair. The couch is comfy and roomy enough to accommodate his body stretched out. A smile reaches you from beneath his glasses that you’ve noticed him taking off less and less. 

The doorbell drags Steve away from you. When he returns it's with Robin and Max. Both of them are already in pajamas and come carrying snacks of different sorts. You’re excited, but your stomach still drops a bit knowing Steve won't be back in your lap. You smile to greet your friends. They dump their haul onto the coffee table before falling back onto the couch with you. Max puts herself right next to you. 

“This seat isn't taken, is it?” she asks teasingly. 

You’re about to mock her tone with a no when Steve answers.

“Actually, it is. Scooch ,” he orders, gesturing for her to slide over with two fingers.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up, impressed by Steve’s brand-new backbone.

You do your best to hide the joy his sitting next to you gives you. You try not to be too obvious in the way you melt into his side when his arm goes around your shoulders. It doesn’t work, but Steve doesn’t seem to care about your friends seeing you two like this. The anxiety that’s been weighing on you lightens a bit. Robin and Max exchange knowing smiles. The doorbell rings once more. You groan at the prospect of losing Steve’s warmth. Robin rolls her eyes amused.

“Don’t worry about your disgusting cuddle session, I’ll get it,” she tells you, getting up.

“We’re not disgusting,” Steve protests.

“You’re pretty disgusting,” Max shrugs.

“Maxine, you traitor,” you scoff playfully.

She laughs, shaking her head at the two of you.

“Don’t worry, you two have always been disgusting,” she says.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Steve questions.

Max gives you two a deadpan stare.

“You’re so into each other it’s hard to watch.”

Both you and Steve begin to protest, but it doesn’t get far. Nancy and Mike stroll in with Robin already backing Max up. Max makes teasing kissy faces at you as Nancy insists the world could be on fire outside and the two of you would be so busy with each other you wouldn’t notice. You hate to admit she’s right, you wouldn’t notice. You wouldn’t care to. Not if Steve is already next to you.

“You’re all just jealous because you’ve never experienced true friendship,” Steve shoots back.

Your stomach falls flat on the floor. Is that what this is? Is this what friends do? They spend every night whispering to each other in bed? They beat away each other’s demons? They hold onto the other as if they’ll disappear if they let go? You don’t move or say anything, though. If this is all Steve wants then you can be okay with that, eventually.

It still gets you into his embrace, it still allows you to take in every drop of affection he has to offer. Yet, it hurts terribly at the same time. It hurts until your face burns and you know you have to get to the bathroom before you lose your cool in front of everyone. You excuse yourself, ducking out from under Steve’s arm and past everyone standing to go down the hall to the bathroom.

“You’re such an idiot,” Robin sighs and shakes her head at him before following after you.

Steve looks between Nancy, Mike, and Max as if to ask what ? 

“She’s right. You’re an idiot,” Mike nods.

“ True friendship , really, Steve?” Nancy questions.

Steve’s mouth opens and closes a few times as he flounders. He thought he was doing the right thing by not putting you on the spot. Neither of you has exactly talked about what you’re doing here. You're both too afraid to jeopardize it. Watching you escape to the bathroom while his friends scold him makes him think maybe it’s time to talk about it. Maybe it's time to stop procrastinating.

“I mean, we are friends,” he defends weakly.

“Me and Mike are friends, but we don’t share a bed every night and cuddle on the couch,” Max points out. 

Mike makes a face and lets out a quiet ew at the thought. Max gestures to him proving her point.

“How do you know we share a bed every night?” Steve sits up straighter with a scrutinizing gaze on his friends.

They all exchange looks of varying degrees of exasperation.

“Robin told us. You two seem to be able to talk to her about your feelings, but not each other,” Nancy chides softly. 

“Us two?” His eyes go to where you disappeared down the hallway.

They wait for it to click. When it finally does, Steve lets out a shaky breath.

“ Shit , I’m an idiot,” he breathes.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” Max chuckles.

Dustin and Lucas come in at this point. Dustin doesn’t ring the doorbell or knock, just welcomes himself into Steve’s home as if it's his own. Both boys’ smiles drop when they read the mood of the room, taking note of who’s missing. Without having to be told anything, Dustin’s eyes move to Steve.

“What did you do?” he sighs.

“Why do you automatically assume I did something?” Steve scoffs.

Dustin looks around at everyone else expectantly.

“Steve just told the love of his life that what they have is true friendship ,” Max informs them. 

Lucas lets out a low whistle.

“It is- in a way,” Steve argues feebly. 

“Yeah, good luck digging yourself out of that hole,” Lucas chuckles wryly. 

“I guess that means Robin told you guys how I feel,” Steve sighs.

“Steve, you're wearing glasses,” Dustin deadpanned.

“Okay?”

“We didn't need Robin to tell us. It was already pretty obvious, but then you started wearing your glasses and doing your hair less and you’re just… relaxed now, it's weird. You look so… normal . Of course we know how you feel,” Dustin explains like he’s stupid.

Steve pushes up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He definitely feels stupid. He feels stupid for dragging this out, for not telling you how he feels the moment he realized he felt it. Most of all, he’s pissed at himself for upsetting you like this. For saying what's between you isn't more than friendship when it’s really everything . Steve’s life didn't truly begin until you entered it the first time you walked into Scoop’s Ahoy to see Robin. 

Steve was leaning against the counter, hands holding up his bored face. You came in jovially with a bag of fast food. He straightens up, about to tell you that you can't have outside food in here when you beat him to talk.

“Ah, King Steve ,” you tease, “Be a dear and get Robin for me?”

Steve scrunches his face at you.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’m the best friend, surely you've heard about me,” you smile.

Robin appears, hearing your voice from the back. Steve watches, totally not jealous, as Robin greets you with a squeal and a hug. She immediately begins talking your ear off about the newest episode of some show you both watch. 

“Alright,” Steve interrupts after a minute, “Can’t this conversation happen anywhere else?”

You shoot him a dangerous look. It takes effort for Steve not to take a step back.

“Sorry, Sailor Steve . Didn't mean to distract from your duties,” you quip.

He doesn't say anything as he watches you and Robin exit the store. His face is burning hot as he thinks once again about how much he fucking hates these uniforms. The next time Steve sees you, you don't have food with you. Robin perks up at the sight of you, something that definitely doesn't bother Steve. Robin is the first friend his own age it feels like Steve’s had in a while. He kinda liked the idea of being her only friend too, but not everyone can be as pathetic as him. So, he tries to embrace it. As easy as you make it, he has a hard time figuring out his place in your and Robin's dynamic.

“Don't you ever work?” Steve jabs playfully.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sailor,” you shoot back, nodding at the nothing he's doing.

“Hey, at least I’m being paid to be here.”

“Luckily for me, Family Video is short on hours this month and I’m short on people I actually want to be around,” you explain with an edge of sarcasm. 

Steve leans against the counter on his forearms, getting closer to you. A smirk plays on his lips as he bats his eyes at you. King Steve appears in full force. Ready to flirt, ready to play with your heart for fun, and ready to ignore the consequences. At least, that’s how you’ve always seen King Steve. 

“You saying you want to be around me?” he drawls.

“I don't recall those words coming out of my mouth,” you scoff.

Robin’s eyes dart between the two of you silently, eyebrows practically to her hairline.

“It was implied,” he shrugs.

“Is that all it takes to get you going? An implication?” you challenge. 

“Is that what you want? To get me going?” He wears a shit-eating grin. 

You realize he’s toying with you. He’s trying to get a rise out of you, to embarrass you for fun. Anger bubbles up in your chest. From the way Robin talks about him, you thought whatever games he played in high school were behind him. One thing is for sure, you aren’t playing. 

“Watch it, Harrington. This isn't high school anymore. Whatever hot shit you thought you were, it's time to learn you're not,” you snap. 

Steve’s eyes widen and the smirk falls away. It’s almost like you broke through a spell and the Steve that Robin talks about appears before you. To his credit, he looks apologetic. His cheeks take on an embarrassing rosy glow. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, heart admittedly racing.

“Wow, I've never seen you back down so quickly, Steve,” Robin laughs. 

Steve shoots her a glare, cheeks becoming completely ruddy. She’s right, he doesn't usually back down so easily. You’re different, though. Sure, you’re Robin’s friend, but you’re also not usually someone he would seriously flirt with. Flirting with you would serve more as entertainment to his high school self, something he’s working extremely hard not to fall back into. More than that, though, you weren't afraid to tell him off. You weren't afraid to call him out and tell him he isn't hot shit , something no one has ever really done before. Except maybe Dustin, but it's different coming from a peer and not someone he views as a little brother.

“He just knows when to back down like a good little boy,” you tease mercilessly, “Isn't that right, Stevie .”

If he wasn't flushed before, he certainly is now. His stomach is doing Olympic-level somersaults as his heart runs the sprint. Something cracks open in him. He begins to crave more of you and needs to get away from you before he bursts into flames. Skilled at the art of delusion, Steve attributes the fire to annoyance. He pins it on the desire to play a new kind of game, to take you down a couple of pegs too. For now, you win, though. He has to retreat.

“You guys are the worst,” he grumbles.

Steve marches to the back room to the sound of you and Robin laughing. Thus begins a game of tug-o-war between you and Steve for an imaginary upper hand.

Robin enters the bathroom you hid in without so much as knocking. It doesn't entirely surprise you that she followed. You sit on the edge of the tub as a few stray tears fall. Sobs won't be coming, but it hurts enough to form cracks. Cracks big enough for a few tears to slip through. Robin sits next to you playing with her hands. She doesn't say anything for a moment. Neither of you does. Just having her near is a comfort in itself. It always is.

“He doesn't mean it, y’know,” she says weakly.

“I think he might. I don't know how else he can hold me the way he does every night and still tell you guys we’re friends,” you answer.

Robin nearly explodes with the pressure of knowing what the two of you should have said to each other . It’s honestly a miracle she doesn't level the entire house. Her face falls into her hands with a muffled groan. You look at her curiously.

“You guys are killing me ,” she complains into her palms.

“What d’you mean?”

She throws her head back in exasperation. Her hands grab the air frustratedly.

“You’re so completely and stupidly in love with each other, but you're so afraid of rejection neither of you will make the first move,” she blurts out at the ceiling.

“Are you saying Steve loves me too?” you breathe.

Robin laughs incredulously and levels you with a stare. 

“ Yes ! Steve loves you, okay? You love Steve. Why is this so hard for you two? Why can't you just let yourselves have what you want?” 

You wish you had a good answer for her. Ever since being so close to death, wanting for things has felt dangerous. What if you get what you want only to lose it? You hug Robin tightly. She folds into it, sighing. The revelation of Steve’s feelings in Robin's voice sits heavy on your chest. If he loves you, why hasn't he been able to say it? Why haven't you? Things suddenly feel so much more complicated than they ever needed to be.

“I’m sorry for sticking you in the middle of all this,” you apologize softly.

Robin offers you a small understanding smile.

“I know you didn't mean to,” she sighs, “but you seriously need to talk to him about your feelings. You're torturing yourselves, which means you’re torturing me .”

You laugh sympathetically. When the two of you make it back out into the living room everyone else is arguing over which movie to start with. Steve sends you a gentle smile that you return. You don't go back to your spot next to him, though. Instead, you spend the night watching movies curled into Robin’s side on the floor. It's all the space you need to clear your head and sort through your thoughts. You’re able to build up the courage.

Max and Dustin sleep with their heads on either end of the couch, their legs sharing space in the middle. Mike knocks out on the recliner. Lucas is on a cot where the coffee table once was. Nancy and Robin take Steve's parents’ bed. You hover in the hallway for a moment. It hurts Steve to see your hesitation. He gently takes your hand and leads you to his room, which has slowly started looking like your room too. 

The two of you stop in the center. The only light is coming from a desk lamp that was left on in haste earlier. Steve’s hands tenderly move up your arms until they hold your elbows. Your forearms press together and your hands find the crooks of his arms. His eyes search yours from behind his glasses. You allow him to see what he can find. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn't mean it like- I mean we are friends, but I think we both know something else is going on here,” his voice is quiet but certain.

Heat rises to your cheeks. You nod in agreement, your voice failing you in this crucial moment. Steve fills the silence, unwilling to meet it gracefully and face possible rejection.

“You’re it for me, moonlight. There’s no one else in the world, in any world, that makes me feel like the best version of myself the way you do. You’re my north star, you guide me when I can't see anything else. When we’re together I know you're seeing me as I am, not as I was. Shit, you’re helping me see me as I am, not as I was. I’m completely lost in you and I don't want to be found. I don't want to spend another night without you. I-” mercifully, you put an end to his rambling.

You crash your lips into Steve’s, silencing his lovesick babble that sets your insides ablaze. It’s like opening your eyes for the first time in forever. Steve’s hands fly up to hold the sides of your face, keeping you securely and firmly on him. His lips move urgently against yours, trying to map out every curve and commit them to memory. The kiss swallows the rest of the world, pulling it out of existence until all that's left is where your lips meet Steve’s. 

You finally pull back for air, both of you breathing heavily. He keeps his face so close that the tips of your noses brush together. His honey-brown eyes look so much darker in the soft low light of the desk lamp. His eyelids hang low as he drinks you in. You bask in his unwavering attention, feeling like the center of his universe. 

“I love you, Stevie,” you whisper.

A wide grin splits across his face, eliciting a similar one from you.

“I love you too, moonlight.”

You and Steve wake up first. The two of you decide to quietly make breakfast for everyone together. It’s a lot of you telling Steve what to do and him attempting to distract you from his shoddy work with kisses. You hate that it works, but not enough to put a stop to it. 

There’s something about caring for others with Steve that feels so natural. Usually, you’re happy to do all the work as a way to express your love for your friends. It’s nice with Steve, though. The teamwork makes it more rewarding because you get to enjoy the act with him. By the time anyone else wakes up you’re setting the food out on the table. It’s Mike first, who showers you in thank you ’s when he sees the spread. Pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, and cut-up fruit adorn the table.

Everyone else isn’t long after that. They file in one or two at a time. Steve’s dining table is the most lively he’s ever seen. His chest fills with warmth at the sight of this strange little family he’s found, even if everyone isn't necessarily here. You catch the warm look on his face as he surveys the room. You smile softly at him. His eyes move to yours from behind his glasses and his hair sits messily atop his head. A soft grey sweater with a green Hawkins Swimming scrawled across the front hugs his form. You could stare at him forever like this.

“Hi,” he whispers playfully with a smile.

“Hi,” you return the favor. 

“Looking at anything interesting?” he teases.

“Hm, I think so,” you muse.

Steve’s mouth opens to respond, but he doesn't get to.

“Wait- what’s that- what’s going on there?” Dustin points to the two of you from across the table.

Both you and Steve fall into laughter. When you collect yourselves your friends are all watching expectantly.

“Can you all go back to eating and stop worrying about our relationship,” Steve waves them off. 

“Your relationship ?” Max questions with a raised eyebrow. 

“ Yes , our relationship ,” you confirm with a smile.

The table breaks out into cheers, sighs of relief, and demands for money due to bets lost or won. You can't help but laugh at the antics. Steve on the other hand looks at his friends in disbelief.

“You placed bets on us?” he scoffs.

“Sorry, Steve, I have a fish to feed,” Robin shrugs as she collects ten dollars from Nancy. 

“No, you don’t,” he argues.

“No, but I will once Lucas pays up,” she holds her hand out to the boy.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, slapping another ten into Robin’s hand. She smiles brightly.

“Besides, I was the only one that bet you two would actually get together last night,” she shrugs happily.

You look around at your friends disappointedly. Steve leans back in his chair, crossing his arms sternly. With the way everyone looks apologetic, you’re sure you look like parents about to scold their children.

“You’re all unbelievable,” you tell them.

“No, what's unbelievable is you two taking so long to admit you love each other when Steve had to be dragged away from you so the EMTs could get you to the hospital after everything at the mall,” Dustin points at you with his fork.

You look at Steve’s blushing face.

“I don't remember that part. Is that true?” You ask him.

He offers you a soft smile and a nod.

“Wow, you must really like me, Stevie,” you tease.

“More like obsessed with you,” Mike corrects.

“I would say infatuated ,” Max adds thoughtfully.

“How about completely up your a- ”

“ Okay ,” Steve interrupts Lucas who just laughs, “that's enough. We get it.”

“I don’t know, Stevie. I don't know if I get it,” you smile.

Steve plants a soft kiss on your lips. A chorus of ew rings out. You chuckle into Steve’s kiss, causing him to deepen it. You push through the rush of it to pull back. Steve pouts, but you gesture sideways with your eyes reminding him of your audience. He sighs and looks over at everyone.

“When are you guys leaving again?” he questions playfully.

“Whenever you bring us home,” Mike answers with a shrug.

“What- How did you guys get here then?”

A few different answers overlap each other. You hear Nancy, my mom, the bus .

“Nance, you can't…,” Steve’s words die as she shakes her head apologetically.

“I have to leave for work in a few minutes,” she explains.

Steve heaves a sigh, mostly for show.

“Always the damn babysitter,” he grumbles.

“Hey, what are we?” Robin protests, gesturing between you and her.

“Okay, fine, we’re the Babysitter’s Club,” Steve offers.

“That works for me,” you nod.

Robin hums in agreement.

“We’re not babies,” Mike argues.

“Oh, really? Then drive yourself home,” Steve shoots back.

“Robin can't drive herself home either,” Dustin points out.

“I’m working on it!” she defends. 

You and Steve smile watching your friends bicker playfully. He reaches over easily and takes your hand. When you cast your warm smile on him, he melts like he's made of wax. For the first time, Steve feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

“C’mon, Stevie, let’s get the kids home,” you whisper to him.

His heart stutters. The image of you and him piling a load of kids into a van to go home after a long day out flashes in his head. It’s everything he wants. It’s everything he feels so much closer to having. Somehow it's even scarier than any terrible creature he’s fought, but that doesn't stop him from wanting it. He wants a family with you one day, eventually. He wants a happy, quiet life like the one you've been living together recently.

“You comin’ back here with me?” he asks quietly.

You get a funny little look on your face. It’s like you’re confused but humored.

“Where else would I go?” 

He shrugs weakly.

“I was afraid maybe you'd want to go home,” he admits.

“I think I am home,” you smile shyly. 

Steve's entire being lights up. A grin spreads across his face.

“Yeah, I think so too.”