Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We can’t skip school, Eddie.”

“Sure we can! It’s simple. We just don’t show up.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly, glancing over as Eddie drives one-handed so he can take a bite of his breakfast sandwich. “Is this about me, or is it about you having a test that day?” he asks.

He knows the answer the moment Eddie squawks in indignation, nearly losing a piece of egg. Steve almost feels bad for himself for still finding Eddie attractive in that moment. “I am offended,” Eddie says after swallowing. “Here I am, simply concerned for my boyfriend’s well-being, wanting to make sure he has a relaxing first anniversary of getting kidnapped into an alternate dimension hellscape, and you accuse me of having selfish motives?”

“It’s a math test, isn’t it?”

A beat of silence follows. "Yes, it’s a math test. Are you happy now?”

Steve laughs, leaning back in his seat as looks out the van’s window. “You have it in the morning, right? We can ditch after you’ve taken the test,” he promises.

Whatever Eddie says is lost on Steve as he watches a few snowflakes fall outside the window. He blinks, sitting up straighter as the world shifts around him. He’s still in the van, he’s still moving, but the street has gained a red-and-blue haze with vines covering everything they can reach. The buildings look dilapidated, like they’ve been abandoned for a few decades.

Steve frowns, placing a hand on the window and yanking it back when the frozen glass starts to spread a chill down his fingers. He’s noticed a preference for cold weather lately, but even that was too sudden. He reaches for the handle to roll down the window when the sky flashes red through the clouds.

As he looks up, pain shoots through his brain, stinging and aching. It intensifies when he lays eyes on the shadowy creature in the distance, towering over the town and looking straight into Steve’s soul. He feels dizzy now, a little nauseous, and he’d probably throw up if not for the van coming to a jarring stop and his backpack shifting between his legs.

When he blinks, the shadow creature and dilapidated Hawkins are gone. Steve grimaces as the pain in his head slowly eases. “Stevie,” Eddie says, his voice soft.

Steve looks over, noting the lack of breakfast sandwich in Eddie’s hand and the van’s gear shift in park. Slowly, the sounds of people laughing and talking filter through his ears, and he wonders how long they’ve been at the school. He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry, just…you know,” he says, waving his hand as though that clears everything up.

It probably wouldn’t for anyone else, but Eddie immediately gets it, and he frowns. “Another one? Really? They’ve been happening more often,” he says, pulling off his seatbelt and shifting to face Steve. He can’t even risk offering his hand since anyone could see them, but he does lean a little closer. That’s good enough for now. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” Steve says, taking a deep breath before pulling off his own seatbelt. He flashes what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He glances out the windshield and notices the other students in the parking lot starting to walk toward the school. “C’mon, I think the bell rang.”

Eddie hesitates for a few seconds before nodding. He shuts the van off and hops out. Steve follows, carefully grabbing his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. He feels it shift against his back and rolls his shoulder to settle the weight. He’s barely taken a step when Eddie glues himself to Steve’s side, their arms brushing as close as they can get with eyes around them.

“Let me know if you need to go,” Eddie says, his voice low. “If it gets too much, we can just head back to yours.”

“I’ll be fine,” Steve promises, holding his backpack strap tighter. “Seriously. Besides, if we’re gonna ditch after your math test next week, we probably shouldn’t ditch now.”

“Geez, when’d you become such a goody two-shoes. Where’s my party-hosting, underage-drinking, weed-smoking Stevie gone?”

“He retired when you failed senior year,” Steve says, his voice dry as he shoots Eddie a knowing look.

Eddie groans, clutching at his shirt over his heart. “You wound me! I valiantly fail all my exams solely to accompany you for your last year in school, and you shoot me straight through the heart. I’ve never met a colder person.”

Before Steve can respond by (lovingly) whacking Eddie upside the head or joking about arrows through hearts, he hears someone shout, “Steve!”

He looks over to see Jonathan waving at him, saying something to Nancy and Barb next to him before jogging over. Barb meets Steve’s eyes, and Steve flashes a smile and waves, a little confused when Barb holds her books tighter to her chest and looks away. Nancy frowns, shooting a glare at him before turning to her friend.

Steve doesn’t get the chance to think about it much before Jonathan reaches them, an awkward grimace tugging at his lips. “Hey, uh, I was supposed to take home Will today, but I’ve got a thing after school. So, I can’t. Do, uh, do you mind?”

“You know,” Eddie says, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulder and using him for balance as he leans toward Jonathan. “Usually, people start conversations with a hello.”

“Oh. Hi.”

Steve rolls his eyes, gently elbowing Eddie in the ribs. “Hi, Jonathan,” he says, looking back at the other boy and trying to communicate with his eyes to just ignore Eddie. “I rode with Eddie today. Because it’s Monday. When I always do. So, you should ask Eddie, too.”

Jonathan tenses slightly, shifting awkwardly before looking at Eddie. “Can you?” he asks.

Before Eddie can start up with the dramatics again, most likely asking for Jonathan’s first-born child with Nancy Wheeler as compensation, Steve nudges him once again. Eddie sighs, his shoulders drooping as he says, “Yeah, sure, it’s fine. But I’m charging you for gas money the next time you buy from me.”

Jonathan grimaces but nods. He hesitates for a few seconds, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else before asking, “How are you? It's, uh, been a year.”

Steve blinks, not expecting Jonathan of all people to ask after his well-being. Jonathan doesn't seem to like him much. Neither does Nancy, for that matter, and Steve has no clue what he did to make that happen. “I'm fine,” he says, shrugging slightly. “Thanks, but I've gotta swing by my locker.”

Eddie takes his words as the cue they are, lazily waving at Jonathan as he pulls Steve away. When they're out of hearing range, he says, “How nice of him to start caring. Not like you kept his little brother alive or anything.”

“He's just…awkward…I guess,” Steve says, shrugging as Eddie stops by his locker and removes his arm from Steve's shoulders.

Steve easily twists the combination lock, a mix of his birthday and Eddie's, and unzips the smaller pocket of his bag. As he's switching out books, somebody slides up to the lockers next to him. “Steve. Munson," Tommy says, glaring at Eddie like that will somehow make him go away.

“Higgins,” Eddie replies, his voice cool and disinterested.

“It's Hagan, Freak.”

“Do we have to go over this again?” Steve asks, shutting his locker harder than he needs to. The loud sound lances through his ears and against his skull, but he ignores the pain. When Tommy holds up his hands in surrender, Steve forces his shoulders to relax. “How was your weekend, Tommy?”

“Fine. Boring, but fine. Not why I'm here, though. Got asked to pass these along,” Tommy explains, holding out two cards. When Steve takes them, he sees they're invitations for a Halloween party. “Maybe you could bring Chrissy Cunningham as your plus one or something. Bet that'd really piss off Jason.”

Steve glances up, taking in the mischievous grin on Tommy's face. “I'm sure it would,” he says, sighing as he shoves the invitations into his bag. The bell rings through the hall, saving him from having to say anything more.

“Better see you there, Steve. There’s a new kid saying he can beat your keg record,” Tommy says, glancing at Eddie before adding, “Lemme know when you're done with your little pet project, by the way.”

With that, he walks off, and Steve does his best to ignore the two-fold anger building in his chest. “Man, he gets worse every day,” Eddie says, “Think he’ll ever get tired of calling me a pet project?”

“Everyone else has gotten over us hanging out. He will, too. Eventually.”

Steve lasts through two classes before everything becomes too much. The lights in the classroom are too bright, the squeaks of the desk and other students' conversations are too loud, his brain is stretching itself too far. Flashes of images keep bursting behind his eyes, straining his vision as whispers drift past his ears.

He grits his teeth, hoping it will pass soon, but eventually gives up. After making sure the teacher is distracted, Steve slides out of his chair, grabs his backpack, and slips out the door.

His backpack shifts slightly as he walks, the echoes of his own footsteps making his head spin and his ears ring. Steve tries to breathe, tries to focus on one sensation to block out everything else, but it doesn’t work. Snapshots of the hall covered in vines and familiar monsters distract him. He keeps hearing growls in the distance, undertones of anger and hunger traveling within them to bounce around his head.

It would be so easy to just give up. He could just take a step back and let himself float happily. His body would be taken care of, and his brain wouldn’t hurt anymore. He could be free and breathe with over a thousand lungs. Doesn’t it sound nice?

Steve takes a shaky breath, shoves away the thoughts that aren’t his, and ducks into an empty room. Some art supplies are scattered around, and the smell of paint is so overwhelming that it makes him nauseous. It’s also too warm; Steve is sweating through his shirt. He hurries to push open the window, leaning into the cold October breeze that drifts through.

His backpack jerks, falling from his shoulder, and Steve catches it before it can hit the ground. He leans against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting. “Patience,” he mumbles, hastily unzipping the large pocket of his bag.

Inside, the demobaby (as Steve and Eddie have taken to calling it) lifts its head and practically shoots out of the bag. It latches onto Steve’s shirt, sticking right over his heart. Steve reaches up, gently prying it off and holding it in his hands. His brain finally quiets, focusing solely on the creature he’s touching.

He’s happy to be out of the bag. The breeze feels nice as he stretches out on the warm hands holding him. He can hear birds in the distance and briefly wonders if he can hunt them for lunch. He remembers being fed that morning and the father sneaking him even more food when the mother wasn’t looking. He wants to explore the room but doesn’t want to move.

He’s content.

He’s calm.

He can breathe.

Steve slowly exhales, opening his eyes even though he doesn’t remember closing them. “I can’t believe Eddie snuck you more food,” he says, lightly squeezing the demobaby. It wriggles around in his hold, a few protesting hisses escaping it even though Steve’s grip doesn’t actually hurt. “You’re just as dramatic as him.”

It flops out on Steve’s palms when he stops squeezing, tilting its head up at him. For something that doesn’t actually have a face, Steve can still see the pout that mirrors Eddie’s. He sighs, gently tapping its back before letting his head rest against the wall.

His head is still aching, and he can still distantly feel whatever else is lingering in his brain. He doesn’t know how connected to the other dimension he is, but his human brain isn’t meant to handle so much. He knows something is lingering on the edge of his consciousness, striking whenever he’s overwhelmed and offering some peace and quiet if Steve would only take a step back.

It’s terrifying and fills Steve with an unprecedented anger whose origin he can’t quite place. Is it his own, or is it somehow the demobaby’s? Or, perhaps, is it the anger of whatever he’s been managing to hold off, throwing a fit over being evaded once more?

He doesn't know, and Steve doesn't get to think about it for long before the sound of the doorknob turning fills the room. Steve scrambles to his feet, quickly moving his hands behind him to deposit the demobaby on the windowsill. He doesn't have enough time to put it back in the bag, but he's sure it won't wander away from him. His mind races to find some excuse for being in the room as the door opens.

When he sees Barb standing in the doorway, he breathes a sigh of relief and lets his shoulders drop. “Hey,” he says, pushing some hair out of his face.

Barb frowns slightly, gently shutting the door behind her. “Hey. I saw you rush by my class,” she says, stopping a few steps away from Steve. “You okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Just, you know, migraine. It's a little better now.”

A few beats of silence pass in which Barb glances at the open window. Her brows are furrowed slightly and she seems to be debating with herself before finally sighing. “You and Eddie…you're really close, huh?”

Steve blinks, taken aback by the unexpected question. “Yeah, I guess,” he replies, his voice soft as tries to figure out where this is going.

He doesn't have to wonder for long. Barb takes a deep breath and hurriedly, quietly, pushes out, “Are you two dating?”

A shot of fear and panic zips down Steve's spine, his breath catching in his throat. The stress makes that lingering presence rejoice in the opportunity to push against his brain and offer relief. Steve clenches his jaw, tempted to grab his demobaby again but unwilling to risk revealing it to Barb.

“It's fine if you are!” Barb quickly adds, looking a little pained despite her words. Steve doesn't know how she can be the one in pain right now. It's not like Barb's safety and that of her loved one is suddenly endangered. “I just noticed you guys hanging out a lot, and I couldn’t think of any other reason for you to drive to school together. I won't tell anyone.”

“Then why did you say something to me?” Steve asks, his voice amazingly steady.

“I just…wanted to know if I was right. And….well, we went through all that together. You saved my life, Steve. I care about your happiness. I'm not entirely sure yo--”

“Stop,” Steve says, knowing exactly where she's going with this. He can appreciate her concern, but that doesn't diminish his anger. “Eddie makes me happy. Sure, we have to keep it secret, but we're happy. Nobody else knows, so…so I'd really appreciate it if you could keep it a secret and, you know, support us.”

Barb is quiet for a few moments, taking a deep breath. She seems to come to a decision before nodding. “I will,” she says, hesitating again and then hugging Steve before he can realize that's what she intends to do. He blinks and hugs her back, a little confused by her shuddering exhale before she pulls away. “Do…do you want me to go get Eddie for you?”

Steve is nodding before he can think it through. He wants to put his head on Eddie's shoulder and just breathe again. He wants to take a nap in the van. He wants to hold the demobaby in his hands to ignore the other voices while Eddie's touch and smell keeps him from getting too wrapped up in the demobaby's mind.

Barb nods in return, flashing a somewhat strained smile at Steve before turning on her heel and leaving the room. The moment the door shuts, Steve whirls around to grab the demobaby only to feel his heart drop into his stomach.

It's gone. The window is open and the demobaby is gone and Steve is so, so revoking its chocolate privileges for the next two months.

Chapter Text

Undoubtedly, it will get into trouble later. If it has learned nothing else from the mother, it’s that wandering out of sight is a big problem. Despite this, it remembers the father once saying, “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, sweetheart.” This was said after stealing the mother’s food, but it thinks the saying can apply to this situation as well.

The cool breeze was so nice, and the mother wasn’t paying it any attention. It heard birds chirping and squirrels chittering in the distance, and the sudden urge to hunt became too strong. It wasn’t the urge of one creature but of many. Without the mother’s touch, it succumbed.

With a slight bounce, it lands on the ground and scurries off, making its way toward the birds and squirrels and, if it’s hearing correctly, a cat. It hasn’t hunted any of these things before, but others have, and it can use these memories.

It catches the birds and the squirrels, fighting its instincts before letting them go. The mother will already be upset; it shouldn’t make things worse by eating something the mother or father haven’t given it. It almost catches the cat, mouth closing around the end of the tail before it yowls and dashes away. A few hairs linger, and it hacks until they’ve fallen to the grass.

In the back of its mind, fighting and winning for attention over the others, it can feel the mother’s worry and anger and fear for its safety. It pauses in its pursuit of a field mouse, head tilting slightly as it focuses on the feeling. It pushes one of its own down the connection to reassure the mother that it’s fine. In return, it receives renewed worry and anger, but at least the fear is gone.

It slumps, puddling on the ground for a few moments before pulling itself up and turning. The others overshadow the mother, protesting the abandonment of the hunt and questioning its motives. The feelings are loud and confusing, making it fumble at the sudden influx that doesn’t contain any of the mother’s care or kindness.

The others don’t understand, of course. They have not had the mother like it, and no matter how much it shares whatever memories it can, none of them understand. It isn’t strong enough to share the feelings, and they don’t care enough to reach out on their own. Still, it wishes they wouldn’t try to drown out the mother so often.

Turning itself toward the nearest building teeming with creatures like the mother, it hurries across the ground. A door is just barely propped open, and it wriggles through, getting stuck in the gap and rolling across the floor when it finally breaks free. It rights itself, shaking off the daze before following the general direction of the mother’s emotions.

After a few minutes, it realizes something very important: the mother is not in this building. The other creatures it senses are too small, too under-developed, too squeaky to be the ones surrounding the mother on a daily basis. No, these creatures are more like the small ones that the mother often watches.

The mother tried to explain these small ones, but seemed to give up after thinking it couldn’t understand properly. But it understood perfectly well. The small ones the mother watches are its siblings, more so than the others shouting and clamoring in its mind. The small ones understand the mother’s care; they understand being fed and scolded by the mother. They also understand being encouraged by and scheming with the father.

Perhaps it can find one of its siblings. They have not met it yet, but surely they will recognize a fellow child of the mother. How could they not?

It finds a few of its siblings by hearing one of them shout. The mother calls that one Dustin, and he seems to cause the most exasperation and fondness for the mother and the father. It follows the shout, sticking to shadows and pausing whenever another small one walks by. When it finally reaches where the shout came from, it can hear other siblings also talking. The siblings seem to be alone in the room, and it relaxes some at knowing it won’t have to hide.

The door is closed, but there is enough space at the bottom to squeeze through. It flattens itself against the floor before wiggling forward, popping through on the other side in time to hear another sibling, the one called Mike, say, “No way! I don’t care how cool you guys think she is. We’re not adding Max to the party.”

“C’mon, man!” Dustin groans, a thunk following the words that makes it think he’s hit his head on the desk. “We didn’t argue this much when El joined.”

“Yeah, but El has literal powers. We don’t know anything about Max. She could just laugh in our faces.”

“She won’t,” Lucas, another sibling, says. “She’s MadMax, dude. She’s gonna be cool.”

“A girl can’t be MadMax.”

“Why don’t we take a vote?” the final sibling in the room, Will, suggests. It likes Will a lot. Other than the mother and El, Will feels the most like the other place. Will is also quiet and seems just as attached to the mother as it is.

Before any of the siblings can voice another opinion, it hears the squeal of a chair sliding and Dustin’s voice asking, “What the fuck is that?!”

They’ve noticed it. With an odd excitement, it moves toward Will only to be stopped when Dustin’s foot blocks its path. It tilts its head back, about to hiss in greeting when Dustin picks it up, his hands holding a little too tightly. Its first instinct is to bite, but its siblings are fragile like the mother and the father. They would be hurt, the mother would be worried, and it would be in even more trouble.

“Looks like some kind of lizard,” Lucas says, moving closer and poking at its side.

It realizes that the siblings don’t recognize it. They don’t know the shared experiences that connect them, and it wishes not for the first time that it could share memories and emotions with more than the mother.

“I’ve never seen a lizard like this,” Dustin replies, holding it closer and turning it over. It hangs upside down, feeling itself growing dizzy at the sudden movement.

“Don’t do that,” Will says, righting Dustin’s hand and saving it from suffering a daze. “It looks kinda familiar.”

“Like, Demiplane familiar?” Mike asks.

"Upside Down familiar, yeah,” Will says, glancing over with a slight frown.

Mike shrugs, leaning closer and poking the creature’s side. It bristles at the tone it hears, snapping at Mike’s finger but making sure it doesn’t actually bite him. “Holy shit, kill it!”

“Dude, maybe it just doesn’t wanna be poked,” Dustin says, protectively holding it closer to his chest. It settles in Dustin’s hands, deciding he is its favorite sibling now.

“It didn’t bite when Lucas poked it.”

“Maybe it can tell who’s cooler,” Lucas suggests.

“Maybe it’s hungry,” Will says, interrupting whatever Mike might have said.

It is hungry. It’s always hungry, really, but it’s especially hungry now. It’s hunted and traversed a whole building and squeezed through doors, building up quite the appetite. It perks up, turning its head toward Will.

“You’re probably right,” Lucas says, a soft hum following his words.

“Oh, you know what, I’ve got Three Musketeers in my bag,” Dustin says, carrying it toward a desk and carefully setting it down. It stays still, settling as Dustin digs through his bag and finally pulls out something that crinkles. The smell of chocolate overwhelms it a second later, and it practically vibrates with excitement.

It barely waits for Dustin’s hand to be out of the way before descending on the chocolate, wrapping its mouth around the candy and swallowing it in one bite. “Huh, you were right,” Mike says as it chews, moving closer and gently poking its back. Mike’s tone this time isn’t as harsh and his poke doesn’t hurt, so it doesn’t snap again.

“What should we name it?” Lucas asks.

“How about D’Artagnan?” Dustin suggests, leaning closer and resting a hand on its back. “Dart for short.”

“Seriously?” Mike asks.

“Hey, it’s not up to you,” Dustin says, gently petting in a way that reminds it of the mother. “It’s up to him. So, how about it? I think you look like a Dart.”

Oh. Dustin is talking to it. Dustin is giving it…a name. It’s never thought about having a name, and the mother hasn’t, either. A name isn’t necessary for the mother when they are always connected and can see through each other. The father hasn’t given it a name like this either. He calls it son or demobaby, but that’s only because he thinks a name is something the mother should have input on.

But now…now Dustin has named it. And it likes the name. It likes being able to give itself a label, a clear identifier that creatures outside the network can use.

It…Dart perks up, tilting its…his head at Dustin and wiggling his body some.

“See?” Dustin says, “He likes it.”

“How do you lose a monster?!”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Steve snaps, gritting his teeth against the conflicting emotions brewing in his chest and brain. He’s angry, he’s worried, he’s drowning in anxiety; he’s frustrated and annoyed at a sibling’s abandonment of the hunt; he’s happy and enjoying attention and overwhelmed by the taste of chocolate. Steve grimaces, licking his lips and confirming that the chocolate isn’t his own experience but the demobaby’s.

He’s about to turn when Eddie grabs his shoulders, getting his attention and grounding him all at once. They’re outside the school, the past twenty minutes spent running around while Steve tries his absolute best to locate Dart based on emotion alone. “Hey, Stevie, it’s gonna be okay,” Eddie says, his voice soft and soothing.

Steve wants to believe him, he does. But his thoughts are racing and he can’t tell what belongs to him, what belongs to the demobaby, and what belongs to whatever else is setting up camp in his brain. He’s about to lose his mind again, too overwhelmed by everything in his head, when Eddie takes Steve’s hand and places it over his chest.

A steady heartbeat pounds against his palm, reverberating down his arm and lingering in his ribcage before reaching his brain. Steve blinks, his vision clearing until all he can see is Eddie. He stares into Eddie’s eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them as his breathing slows and his brain quiets. After almost a minute of silence, Eddie smiles and quietly asks, “Better?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, his shoulders relaxing as he nods, “much better. Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Now, I know you can feel where our son is,” he says, grinning when Steve snorts. “So, just focus on the little monster, and I’ll keep you grounded.”

Steve nods once more. He looks around, relieved to see they’re alone and tucked into a windowless, hidden corner of the school building. He shifts closer, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Eddie’s fingers drag through his hair, gently untangling strands and helping him relax enough to focus on only the demobaby.

A few minutes pass before the connection is strong enough for him to get anything. Steve can’t see, but he can hear familiar voices speaking. One of them is annoying, just moments away from getting another warning bite if he doesn’t stop poking and prodding. Another is quiet, another curious, and the final protective. He’s chewing another piece of chocolate, perfectly aware that he’s only increasing the scolding from the mother with each bite, but it’s so tasty. He’s picked up again, held close as Dustin says, “I can get some books from the library to see what kind of lizard he is.”

Steve blinks, breathing slowly before pulling back with a frown. “I know where it is,” he says, sighing as he grabs Eddie’s hand, squeezes once before letting go, and turns on his heel toward the middle school.

“Seriously? There?” Eddie asks, easily keeping pace.

“It’s with the kids.”

“I’ll be honest,” Eddie says, amusement dancing in his tone, “I’m surprised we were able to keep the kids from finding it for almost a year.” Steve hums softly in agreement, purposefully reaching out so their hands will brush, and Eddie immediately gets the message. “I’ve been thinking of a new song, by the way.”

The walk is filled with Eddie’s chatter, both grounding Steve and giving him something to focus on so he doesn’t get lost in his mind again. All he has to do is let Eddie talk and play hot-and-cold with the demobaby through his connection. It gets stronger the closer they get, and Steve unknowingly mimics the demobaby’s swallowing of another piece of chocolate after they’ve found the A/V Room.

Without a single thought about how the kids might react, Steve jerks the door open. He locks his gaze on the demobaby in Dustin’s hands and marches right over. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?” he demands.

“Wh--Steve? What are you talking about?” Dustin asks, sliding back a step only to blink when Steve scoops the demobaby out of his hands.

Steve scowls at the little thing, fearlessly reaching into its mouth and pulling out the last bit of chocolate it hadn’t managed to swallow before he came in. He feels indignation and remorse in the back of his mind as he drops the piece into the trash. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. You know not to wander off, you know not to hunt animals, and you know not to have chocolate without permission,” he scolds.

The demobaby deflates in his palms, a pitiful hiss escaping it, and Steve would be sympathetic if he weren’t still reeling in the leftover worry. “I hope you had fun,” he says, turning on his heel and walking back to Eddie so he can get his backpack, “because you are grounded. No chocolate for two, no, three months, no forest walks for a month, and no Star Trek marathon for you this weekend. And I’m making sure Eddie doesn’t try sneaking you anything while you’re grounded.”

A distraught whine comes from the demobaby as it turns to Eddie, flopping toward him with a pitiful posture. Steve follows its gaze, glaring at Eddie and daring him to disagree. Eddie barely manages to hold back a smile as he raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, kiddo, I’m not arguing with your mom here.”

Before Steve can nod and banish the demobaby to its pillow and blanket in his backpack, he hears Dustin ask, “What the fuck is going on here?!”

Steve bristles and glares at Dustin. “Watch the tone, Henderson,” he snaps, holding the demobaby in one hand so he can place the other on his hip.

He’s about to say more when Eddie places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer and sounding far too amused as he says, “I think the question is fair, Stevie.”

It’s only then that Steve realizes how all of that must have looked. Between him barging in and scolding the demobaby and grounding it, he either looks insane or…no, probably just insane. He presses his lips into a tight line, feeling a flash of sympathy from the demobaby that almost makes him break.

“Let’s start with this one,” Lucas suggests, looking at Steve expectantly as he asks, “What is Dart, exactly?”

“Dart?” Steve asks in return, blinking as he looks down at the demobaby. It perks up slightly at the name, feelings of happiness and excitement surging into Steve’s brain because he has a name now and he was so excited to share it with the mother even while he was being grounded.

“Okay,” Steve says, nodding once before looking at Eddie. “His name is Dart now.”

“Pretty metal,” Eddie says, grinning as he takes Dart and dances his fingers across the demobaby’s stomach. Dart wiggles around, a skipping hiss coming from him.

Steve can’t help a slight smile as he watches, his shoulder finally losing the last of their tension. He takes a deep breath and looks back at the kids, his gaze lingering on Will the longest before he says, “We’ve been calling him a demobaby.”

“So…it’s from the Upside Down?” Will asks.

“Yeah, but he’s harmless,” Steve says, “Mostly. We’ve taught him to be harmless.”

“Dude,” Dustin breathes, looking like he’s going to have trouble wrapping his head around that for at least two weeks, not that Steve can blame him.

Chapter Text

They end up in Eddie’s van.

Where else are they supposed to discuss things like alternate dimensions and the creatures that spawn from them?

Steve watches as Dart puddles in Dustin’s hand, content and safe from even more scolding. For now. Because Steve isn’t done, not by a long shot; he won’t be satisfied until Dart has fully learned his lesson and knows not to run off like that ever again. He watches Dart tense as more feelings of regret and apology surge through the back of Steve’s mind.

The only thing that stops him from snorting is Eddie’s arm settling behind his shoulders on the loveseat squeezed into the van. Between the beanbags, the band's sound equipment, and both of their instruments, it’s a tight fit with everyone in the back, but they’ve made it work. If El had been there, somebody would’ve been sitting on the floor, but they got lucky, it seems.

“Okay,” Lucas says, holding his head in his hands as he frowns. “You…threw up Dart a year ago and have been raising him.”

“Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Will asks, glancing at Dart with wariness clear in his eyes. It’s funny, considering Steve can feel the affection Dart has for Will as someone that’s been in the other dimension. In fact, the way Dart views all of the kids is endearing.

Thankfully, Eddie picks up the slack when Steve doesn’t immediately answer. “What were we supposed to do?” he asks in return. “Tell the doctors Stevie here birthed a parasite? They would’ve locked him away for experiments in a heartbeat.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to say he birthed him?” Mike asks, his face twisting with disgust.

“Because I did, technically,” Steve says, frowning as Dart lifts his head and angles it toward Steve. He feels contentment at the acknowledgement flowing into him, but it’s quickly followed by a wave of other presences clamoring for attention.

Steve grimaces, the sunlight streaming through the windows suddenly too bright and the traffic outside suddenly too loud. It gets worse when he hears one of the boys say something, the sound piercing his brain and making him dizzy. He clenches his jaw, trying to breathe through the pain caused by whatever else is trying to reach him.

He’s hungry, he’s still angry about the abandoned hunt, he’s curious about the lingering and fleeting sweet taste one of his siblings had earlier. He wants to run, he wants to eat, he wants to tear into the other place and revel in the panic. He needs to dig, he needs to meet the newest presence among the thousand others, he needs to stretch and take and control.

His heart is racing in his chest, foreign thoughts and feelings blurring through his mind, when he finally realizes it’s gone quiet. Steve opens his eyes to find himself alone in the van. Even Dart is missing, and the door is cracked open.

Steve hesitates before slowly standing from the couch, feeling unsteady on his feet as he walks to the door. He pushes it enough to hop out, unsurprised to see vines growing freely over the school and its parking lot, ash-grey snowflakes drifting through the air, and a red undertone to the clouds above him.

Something looms behind him. Steve grips the door handle tightly to stay grounded. He doesn’t want to give in; something tells him that turning around is going to lead to trouble. It’s familiar, though; it’s the same presence that was enticing him earlier, offering sweet relief if he’d just give in and surrender to it.

“What the fuck are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough as he spits the question out through clenched teeth. Steve is losing the battle against it, his head turning without permission to look over his shoulder. Dread builds in the pit of his stomach, a cold sweat drenching his back as shadowy, spindly legs come into view.

Just before he can see the body of whatever looms behind him, just before he loses everything about himself, Steve blinks, and the world is right once more. He’s back in the van, still on the loveseat next to Eddie, the reassuring warmth of his arm pressing against the back of Steve’s neck. The sunlight longer hurts, but his head is faintly pounding.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, his voice soft and close, and it’s then that Steve realizes the van is unusually silent.

He looks over at the kids, taking in their worried and confused expressions. Before he can ask why they’re looking at him like that, Dart scrambles from Dustin’s palm and scuttles across the van to Steve. He smacks Steve’s shoe once he reaches it, only stopping when Eddie picks him up and promptly places him in Steve’s hands.

The moment Dart settles there, Steve inhales sharply, the final vestiges of the migraine fading away. His exhale is shaky as he feels the weight of something lift from his mind. “Thanks,” he mumbles, gently rubbing his thumb over Dart’s back.

“What just happened?” Will asks.

“What did it look like?” Steve asks in return, glancing at Eddie for the answer.

“You just…zoned out, Stevie,” Eddie says, frowning slightly as his hand moves to Steve’s shoulder, squeezing tightly like he’s worried Steve might disappear. “Dustin asked you something but you didn’t answer. I don’t think you even heard.”

Eddie’s right. Steve didn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart and whatever was trying to invade his brain. He frowns, leaning a little closer to Eddie as Dart rubs his head against Steve’s fingers. He can feel reassurance flooding the back of his mind, settling over him like a warm blanket.

“It was just…a headache, I guess,” he finally says, shaking his head before flashing a reassuring smile at the kids. “They’ve been happening more often lately.”

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Mike asks.

“Unfortunately, you’re not,” Steve replies, earning an offended scoff from Dustin.

“Then don’t lie to us. What actually happened?”

Steve grimaces, glancing at Eddie. He raises his eyebrows, earning a slightly awkward smile and minute shoulder shrug in return. He frowns slightly, glancing at the kids and then looking back. Eddie nods in understanding and then tilts his head toward the kids anyway.

“Geez, it’s like watching my parents,” Lucas says, his tone more annoyed than anything else.

Steve sighs, and slumps, letting his head rest against Eddie’s arm behind him. “I can…feel things, I guess,” he finally says, frowning as he tries to think of how to explain it. “Like, I can feel what Dart is feeling or thinking. I can use that to track him sometimes, too. But there’s also…other things…things that aren’t Dart. Sometimes they get really really strong. Or, one specific thing does. Like, it’s overpowering, and I don’t feel like myself, I feel like something new and, like, big.”

“Dude,” Dustin says, “it’s a hive mind.”

“A what now?”

“A hive mind,” Will says, glancing at the others before explaining, “It’s when many creatures are connected and can communicate with each other. You end up with, like, one big consciousness that everyone contributes to, but there’s usually one creature in charge. Kind of like a Queen Bee, I guess.”

“That makes so much sense. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?” Eddie says.

“You were raising a demobaby,” Steve tells him.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Okay, wait,” Lucas says, holding up his hands. “How did Steve even get connected to this hive mind in the first place?”

“Well, when did it start?” Dustin asks.

“After I threw up Dart and picked him up for the first time. I was planning to just throw him in a fire---”

Dart perks up, making an affronted hissing noise and slapping Steve’s fingers. Eddie snorts and reaches over, plucking him from Steve’s hand and saying, “Don’t get so worked up, ya little heathen. You know it wouldn’t have happened.”

“---but then I got overwhelmed by everything he was feeling.”

“So, whatever made you throw up Dart is probably what created that connection in the first place,” Mike says.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how Dart got inside me.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, his voice quiet as he looks up, “I think I do. You know how I had to give you CPR? It’s because you had this vine thing down your throat when I went through the portal. I bet that’s where it came from.”

Steve grimaces, trying to ignore the sudden nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He’d very much like to not think about getting infected by the Upside Down via invasive vines, thanks. “Okay, great, fantastic, now we know,” he says, “That doesn’t explain me getting overwhelmed.”

“I bet it’s the Queen Bee trying to assert control,” Lucas says, leaning forward some and nearly rolling out of his beanbag. “You technically haven’t assimilated, so it’s trying to pull you into the hive mind fully.”

“But I don’t want to be assimilated. This sounds like a cheesy sci-fi feature.”

“It’d be a good medical horror if this were just a zombie thing,” Eddie offers. Despite everything, it does make Steve feel a tiny bit better.

“Again, don’t wanna be assimilated.”

“Then you’ll have to be stronger than the Queen Bee,” Mike says. “You’ll have to assimilate it.”

“That would mean controlling the entire hive mind, though,” Dustin points out, “I don’t think the human brain can handle that. Or, you know, Steve’s definitely can’t.”

“Rude,” Steve says, glaring at Dustin and refusing to give him any credit for technically being right.

But his words don’t feel right. Or, at least, they don’t feel right to Dart. Everything Steve is feeling from Dart right now gives the impression that he could, in fact, fight the current Queen Bee and win. Steve is flattered, of course, but he’s also pretty sure that’s just the unquestioning confidence most little kids have in their parents.

“None of this sounds like things that could actually help,” Eddie says, pointedly looking at the kids. “Maybe we focus on that so we don’t lose Steve to the hive mind.”

Before they can say anything, a bell rings in the distance, and Steve sees all four of them wince. “Get to class, guys,” he says, glaring when Mike starts to complain. He then looks at Will and adds, “We’ll be taking you home after school. Something came up and Jonathan can’t.”

“Ugh, I bet he’s going on a date with Nancy again,” Mike says, his nose wrinkling with disgust as he climbs out of the beanbag and pushes the door open. “They’re so gross together.”

“Don’t you want to do the exact same things with El?” Lucas asks.

“You want to do what with El?” Eddie asks, his tone becoming hard as he glares at Mike. “I will snap you like a twig, Wheeler.”

“You’re a twig yourself!” Mike shouts, looking only mildly apologetic when Steve winces.

“Fine,” Eddie says, “Stevie will snap you like a twig.”

“Can we go already?” Dustin asks, pushing Mike out of the van and glancing back to see a nod of approval from Eddie when he nearly falls on his ass.

Will gets up to follow them but stops in front of Steve. He fidgets for a moment before looking at him. “I’ll look into it. The hive mind thing, I mean,” he promises. “I think there should be a way to just…hold the Queen Bee back. It can’t assimilate you, but you don’t have to assimilate it, either.”

Steve smiles and stands, ruffling Will’s hair before gently nudging him toward his friends. “Thanks, I appreciate it. We’ll look into it, too, so don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll wait for you by the library,” Will says, flashing a tiny smile before jogging to catch up with his friends.

Steve huffs as he shuts the door and collapses back onto the couch, his head falling to Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t want this,” he mumbles.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“What’s Wayne making for dinner tonight?”

“It’s supposed to be meatloaf.”

“And what are we ordering when it burns?”

“Burgers.”

Steve grins, huffing out a soft laugh against Eddie’s shoulder. “I can pick the burgers up on my way over,” he offers.

“Deal. El and Wayne will be happy to see you.”

With a soft hum, Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist. He feels Eddie’s fingers slide into his hair, gently running through the strands. A moment later, Dart settles on his shoulder, feelings of contentment gently ebbing through the back of Steve’s mind.

Steve takes a deep breath and basks in this moment of peace.

Chapter Text

Eddie usually drives El to and from school, but she bikes on Mondays to give Eddie and Steve time alone. El can sense that being alone with Eddie keeps Steve grounded. All things considered, Steve feeling grounded is the most important thing they can do right now.

So. El bikes on Monday. Half of her ride is usually spent alone, and the other half is spent with her friends. Will is quiet, but he feels familiar in the same way that Steve does. Lucas and Dustin seem interested in her powers and how they work. Mike just seems interested in her, but El maintains a certain distance from him like Eddie and Wayne told her.

“See you tomorrow, El!” Mike calls, twisting around on his bike to wave as their group breaks apart. His grin is big and eager, and his bike almost runs into Dustin’s before he quickly jerks it back and nearly falls off.

When he looks back again, El waves so he’ll actually pay attention to what he’s doing. Maybe that’s part of why Eddie and Wayne told her to keep a distance. Mike doesn’t seem very aware of the things around him. Eddie said it was because he doesn’t think with his brain; Wayne said it was because he’s got some ideal of a person he’s gunning for.

Both reasons sound confusing to her.

El waits until the three boys have turned down another street before sighing and pushing off to reach the trailer park. She bikes in silence for a few minutes, and then she hears something else on wheels. At first, El thinks it’s a car, but it’s too quiet for that; there’s no engine roaring to accompany the crunching of wheels on gravel.

She looks to her left just in time for girl with red hair to pass her. She’s on a skateboard and seems to be heading in the same direction. El is about to dismiss the moment as something fleeting, something that doesn’t require further thought, when the girl whips her head around and meets El’s eyes.

They’re both still moving, maintaining a distance of about three feet from each other. The first to broach the space between them is the girl. She lets her skateboard lose its momentum just enough to keep pace with El. “Sup,” she says.

Oh. El has heard this from Eddie before. She wracks her brain for the correct response, finding it a second later. “Sup,” she replies, jerking her chin up once the way Eddie taught her.

The girl grins, an expression of approval that fills El with relief. “Name’s Max. I’ve seen you around the trailer park before.”

“My name is El. I live there.”

Max blinks and barks out a laugh, using her foot to push against the ground so she doesn’t fall behind El. “Yeah, no shit. I saw you hanging out with those dweebs, too.”

It takes El a moment to understand who Max is referring to; when she does, she makes a mental note to ask Wayne what “dweeb” means. “Yes,” she says, “they are my friends. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. There is another boy, too. His name is Will. He was not riding with us today.”

“Yeah,” Max says, frowning slightly and crossing her arms in what El thinks is annoyance. “Lucas and Dustin keep bothering me cuz they can’t stand losing to a girl.”

“Oh. You are MadMax.”

“Yep.”

El is quiet for a few seconds before nodding. “They think you are cool. They want to be your friends as well,” she explains, figuring Max is simply misunderstanding their intentions. El has noticed that her friends aren’t good at explaining themselves; they tend to do and say things without including what they actually want.

Max snorts, the sound so like Eddie that El immediately understands what it means. She gets a tiny smile, amused and proud of herself for not needing to ask why Max made that noise. “Yeah, right,” Max says, glancing at El with a raised eyebrow, “I think they just want to get their dicks wet.”

“What…does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Max shrugs, waving off El’s question with one hand. “It’s just something I’ve heard my brother say. Seemed to fit this, I guess. They’re just a little too eager for me to like them.”

El makes a mental note to ask Eddie what the phrase means later. She can discern enough to know it’s not something she should be asking Wayne. He’ll just get oddly flustered about the answer, sputter around some, and then send her to Eddie anyway. “Do you want to be their friend?” El asks.

A beat of silence passes, and El can see Max giving the question genuine thought. “Not sure. Like I said, they’re dweebs,” she replies, shrugging again before looking at El and flashing a grin. “You seem pretty cool, though.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. You’ve got this blunt thing going on. It’s cool. And your hair is so short. You cut it like that yourself?”

El thinks of her hair that’s finally started to grow past her ears. It’s curly, somewhat similar to Eddie’s, and makes their story of her being his half-sister easier to sell. Apparently, it’s very believable that Eddie’s father would “sleep around,” as Wayne put it.

It’s growth was entirely because of Steve, though. After everything had calmed down and she had been released from the hospital and officially taken into the Munson home, Steve had come over. He’d introduced himself, thanked El for helping Eddie find and rescue him, and gave her an apple pie that Wayne and Eddie weren’t allowed to touch without permission.

Then, he’d sat down next to El and asked if she wanted her hair to grow faster or stay shaved.

El had looked at his hair and noticed how nicely it shined and how soft it seemed. She’d asked if she could touch it, and Steve had lowered his head to let her run her fingers through the strands. It was as soft as she’d imagined.

El suddenly wanted her own hair to be like that. She wanted soft hair that she could touch and stroke whenever the desire arose. She wanted hair that would bounce the way Steve’s did, and she wanted it sooner rather than later.

So, El had nodded, Steve had smiled so brightly at her that it almost hurt to look at, and he’d come back the next day with several bottles and jars of hair products. He’d taught El what each one was, how to use it, when to use it, and what it was supposed to do for her hair.

The routine of using the products every day gave El something to look forward to. She knew exactly what to do, when to do it, and how it would feel. She didn’t have to think, and that helped her relax at the start of each day.

“It used to be shaved,” she finally says, shrugging when Max gives her a confused expression. This is one of those topics where El shouldn’t talk about the specifics. “I started growing it out last year. Steve helped me.”

“Steve?”

This is another topic she should be careful about. El knows that Steve and Eddie like each other very much. Wayne knows, too. Nobody else is allowed to know, though, because they might not like it. They might hurt Steve or Eddie if they knew, and El won’t let that happen. “Steve is my brother’s friend.”

“And, uh, he’s cool? Your brother?”

“Yes. My brother is very cool. He is in a band.”

Max looks mildly impressed by that fact, nodding once and humming softly. “Cool,” she says, her voice soft as they reach the entrance of the trailer park. “Which one is yours?”

El points at it. “That one.”

“Oh, cool, mine is across from you,” Max says, gesturing to her own home. She hops off her skateboard as El comes to a stop between the trailers. With a sharp stomp, the skateboard lifts on its back wheels, and Max grabs the top. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she walks around El’s bike. El blinks and asks, “Are we friends?”

Max pauses, turns, and considers El for a moment. Then she grins. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“I made a new friend today,” El says, idly dipping one of her fries in ketchup.

Her seat at the table is closest to the kitchen, so she can still smell the burnt remnants of Wayne’s attempt at a meatloaf. The dishes are piled in the sink, waiting to be washed by Wayne after waving off Steve’s offer to do them at least three times.

Across from her, Steve smiles, and El can tell it’s mostly in response to her statement. A small part of it is probably because of Eddie giving him the last onion ring, but still. “That’s great,” Steve says.

“Who is it?” Wayne asks.

“Max.”

“Max,” Wayne repeats, sighing. “Another boy, huh?”

“No,” El says, shaking her head. “Max is a girl. She lives across the road.”

“Oh! Is she with that new family?” Eddie asks.

El nods, popping the fry into her mouth before picking up her half-eaten burger. “Yes. She rode home with me today. We talked, and then she said we were friends.”

“And you want to be friends with her?” Steve asks.

This isn’t a weird question from him. El heard it before when she talked about the boys becoming her friends. Steve had sat her down and said very seriously that she didn’t have to pretend to like people or be their friends if she didn’t actually like them. The most important thing was being around people she enjoyed, not people she thought would make others happy.

“Yes. She seems…cool. And she likes my hair.”

“Well, it’s pretty awesome hair,” Eddie says, reaching over and ruffling El’s hair.

Steve makes an offended noise at the action, lightly smacking Eddie’s arm. “Do you know how much grease is on your fingers right now?” he asks, still frowning even when Eddie pulls his hand away. “Seriously, Eds, you could mess up the entire balance of her hair.”

“Oh no, the balance that will be restored in the morning,” Eddie says, his voice dripping with something he once called sarcasm.

El can’t help smiling as she watches them, enjoying the familiarity of the moment as she glances at Wayne and they share a “what are you gonna do” kind of look. At least, that’s what Wayne called it. El thinks it’s a question with a simple answer: encourage it.

Steve needs these interactions with Eddie. He needs the distractions and jokes and everything else to keep himself from drowning in the Demiplane that’s lingering in his head. El can feel it; sometimes she even thinks she can see it, like a dark mist hovering just below the nape of Steve’s neck, clinging to his skin.

She hasn’t said anything because Steve and Eddie must know about it. Why else would they carry the demobaby with them everywhere if not to pull Steve back when the mist gets thicker and starts to seep into him? Since they’re managing just fine, El figures she can relax and just keep an eye on Steve when he comes over.

“Oh,” Steve says, looking over at El, “Is this the same Max the kids have been talking about?”

“Yes. They call her MadMax because of her high score,” El explains, shrugging as she takes a bite of her burger. Mustard, cheese, and beef cover her taste buds, grease dripping from the patty onto her plate. She thought it was gross at first, but she’s come to appreciate it. “She called them dweebs.”

Eddie and Steve snort in unison. “Yeah, that’s fair,” Eddie admits. His words might be mean, but El can see the softness in his smile and the fondness he has for the boys, so she doesn’t say anything. “They wear their dweeb status well.”

“What does it mean?” El asks.

“Usually, it’s an insult,” Steve explains. “Like, calling them dorks or making fun of them for not being cool.”

El slowly nods, deciding she’ll share this information with Max later. “I see.”

“I’m glad you’re making friends, kiddo,” Wayne says, reaching over and carefully fixing her hair that Eddie messed up. El doesn’t think before leaning slightly into the touch, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “How’s school going otherwise?”

“School is…confusing. I do not always understand the other kids. One of them complimented my shirt and then laughed and walked away before I could thank him.”

She looks up, noticing the way Eddie and Steve share a look before Eddie says, “That was probably sarcasm, El.”

“Oh.”

“You want me to beat him up for you?” Steve offers, popping a fry into his mouth.

“I do not want you getting into trouble,” El replies, shaking her head. She can handle kids that are mean. In fact, she can handle adults that are mean, too. A single thought, a twitch of her fingers, and their brains can be squeezed until they pass out.

“I wouldn’t get caught,” Steve says, shrugging but not pushing the issue more than that.

Something about it makes El feel warm in her chest. Between the seriousness in Steve’s tone, the concern she’s learned to recognize in Wayne’s expression, and the tapping of Eddie’s fingers against the table that means he’s thinking of ways to cheer her up, El feels content. She smiles a little wider and takes another bite from her burger.

Chapter Text

Steve needs this party to not suck. He needs to feel somewhat normal for at least a few hours, pushing the limits of how close he can stand next to Eddie without people giving them weirder than usual looks while he listens to Eddie lament the tragic music choice. He needs to not get overwhelmed by a crowd he usually thrives in.

“Hey, I’m gonna get drinks,” Eddie says, leaning in close so Steve can hear him without needing to shout. “Any requests, sweetheart?”

When Steve shakes his head, Eddie flashes a grin, gently nudges his hip, and pushes his way into the crowd. When he’s out of sight, Steve slowly exhales and looks to where the crowd is loudest. A keg has been set up in the middle, and several guys are egging each other toward it.

Steve is half-tempted to join them, to just forget everything and feel like himself before the Upside Down. But he can’t. The crowd is already loud and suffocating. If he adds the dizziness of a kegstand and the blur of all that beer, he’s going to collapse in the middle of the party. And he can’t think of anything else that would drag the party down than him collapsing and Eddie freaking out over it.

“Hey, Steve!” Tommy shouts, looking over the crowd and grinning when he spots Steve. It’s a grin that promises trouble for everyone but entertainment for Tommy. Steve would have looked forward to whatever came of it once.

Now, he just feels apprehension as Tommy throws an arm around some guy’s shoulders. Steve doesn’t recognize him, so this must be the new student Tommy mentioned when he passed along the invitations. He’s got a cocky look to him, hair that Steve will begrudgingly admit is sort of impressive, and a general air that puts Steve on edge.

Steve takes a deep breath and pushes through the crowd, slipping past people and trying to keep his breathing steady at the sheer smell of that many teenagers packed together. When he finally gets through, somehow managing to keep his relaxed smile, Tommy grins wider.

“Hargrove here says he can beat your keg stand,” Tommy says, eyebrows raised like Steve is supposed to rise to the bait.

Thankfully, falling back into this version of himself is simple enough. “I’d like to see you try,” he says, looking at Hargrove with just enough challenge to be fun but not so much that it becomes an actual fight.

Hargrove snorts and shrugs off Tommy’s arm. “Watch closely, Harrington. Maybe you’ll learn something,” he says, walking over to the keg. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, braces his hands on the rim, and pushes himself into a handstand. One of the cheerleaders places the nozzle of the keg into Hargrove’s mouth. When she turns around, her face slightly flushed, Steve realizes it’s Chrissy.

She meets Steve’s eyes, her flush calming some and her smile becoming a little more genuine. Steve flashes a charming smile back, ignoring the glare Jason has started sending his way. It shifts after a few seconds, focusing on Hargrove when he winks at Chrissy as he drinks.

The people around him cheer and shout, but it all dulls to a low buzz in Steve’s ears. He can’t process any of it---not what people are saying or if Hargrove is actually beating his record---because he’s too focused on keeping his breathing steady and his shoulders relaxed. He can feel his lungs tightening in his chest, squeezing against themselves, and the noise around him fades even more.

A few beats pass before Steve realizes the crowd has gone silent. He jerks slightly, looking around to see a completely empty house. Steve blinks, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. Something scratches at the back of his mind, begging for attention.

When Steve turns, the clamoring stops. He can only assume it’s because the creature pacing back and forth behind him realized it’s gotten his attention. It looks kind of like a dog: it’s on four legs, has a tail, and is even the right size, but its head is made of petals like the demogorgon. It stalks closer to Steve, walking in a circle around him.

Steve feels curious, he’s confused, he wants to know why this thing he once would have considered food is now part of the hive. He doesn’t think this new thing can add much; wouldn’t they be better off eating it and moving on with their lives? What does his sibling see in it? Why does his sibling call it the mother? What even is a “the mother” anyway? Maybe he can scare it. If he scares it, then it isn’t good enough for the hive, and none of the other siblings can complain about him eating it.

It’s not until the thing opens its petals, a low hissing sound growing from its throat, that Steve realizes none of those thoughts were his own. He slides back a step, confusion and revulsion at how easily he could understand this thing that isn’t Dart budding in the pit of his stomach. The crazy thing is, Steve isn’t even upset that he could understand it in the first place. He’s just upset that there wasn’t more interference, that it happened so seamlessly.

What does that mean for him? Is he closer to succumbing to the Queen Bee? Is he going to lose himself in this hive mind? His heart speeds up behind his ribs, slamming against them as his lungs constrict again and make it hard to breathe.

Instead of attacking him, the creature pauses, closing its petals and tilting its head. Even now, with his panic mounting, Steve can still tell that it’s confused and…empathetic? His panic is bleeding through whatever connects them, making the creature feel the same sensations. It takes a step forward, its head lower, and gently nudges Steve’s thigh. If Steve is confused by its actions, the creature itself is downright baffled.

Still, it doesn’t bite when Steve hesitantly touches its head. It tilts its head up into Steve’s hand, seeming to wiggle when Steve gently pets it. Like with Dart, touching the creature makes him focus on one thing.

He’s confused by this feeling in his chest, but it’s nice. The hand on his head is warm, and he doesn’t usually like warm things, but the hand is gentle, too. He’s never felt something so gentle, and the thing’s heart has started slowing down, making an odd pride build in his chest at knowing it was because of him.

Before Steve can even begin to process what any of that means, someone’s hand claps down on his shoulder, and the room is filled with people again. The crowd is deafening, the creature is gone, and Hargrove is standing next to the keg with a smirk that’s clearly meant to rile Steve up.

Steve blinks a few times, looking over to see Tommy grinning at him. “Look at that,” Tommy says, his voice mocking, “Hargrove can walk the walk.”

Oh. Hargrove beat his record. Steve blinks once more and looks at Hargrove, understanding that smirk now. Maybe, if this was another time, Steve would get another keg and try to claim his title back. But right now, when he just wants to get away from the crowd and have room to breathe, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

He smiles at Hargrove and steps forward. “Congrats, man,” he says, holding out his hand, “that was impressive.”

Hargrove falters, looking down at his hand and then back up at him. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with someone who isn’t angry or challenging him. So, instead of taking Steve’s hand, he snorts derisively. “What, too scared of losing to try beating me, Harrington?”

Without thinking, Steve drops his hand and shrugs. “Honestly? I don’t actually care,” he admits, seeing Hargrove falter again. He looks speechless and angry because of it, but Steve figures that’s his problem. “Still, good on you,” he says, patting Hargrove’s arm.

He doesn’t give Hargrove or Tommy the chance to say anything before leaving the crowded room. Steve manages to maintain a calm pace until he’s reached a hall. Before he knows it, he’s outside, breathing in crisp air as he walks around the house. When he reaches a mostly quiet spot, Steve leans back against the house, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

Barely a minute of being alone has passed when he hears a familiar voice say, “There you are.”

Steve does his best to contain a groan of annoyance as he opens his eyes and looks at Nancy. He pastes on a smile, wondering why she looks so determined to do something now that she’s found him. “Hey, Nancy,” he says, forcing his shoulders to look more relaxed.

“We need to talk,” Nancy says, stepping closer and frowning at Steve like he’s done something wrong. “You need to stop being such an asshole.”

Steve blinks. He doesn’t remember being an asshole.

Well, he’s definitely been an asshole before, but he doesn’t remember being one recently. “Uh, what’s this about?” he asks.

She scoffs, taking one more step closer, and Steve is nearly overwhelmed by the smell of beer on her. He glances down at the cup in her hand, wondering how many she’s had before this half-empty one. “You know what this is about, Harrington,” she says, poking his chest like that’s going to make him realize what she’s talking about. “Stop messing with Barb.”

Okay, he’s even more confused now. He thought he was friends with Barb; how can you go through surviving in an alternate dimension and not come out the other side as friends, at the very least? “I really don’t know what you mean, Nancy,” Steve says, grimacing when she huffs.

“Don’t try to trick me, Steve. You go through girls like hairspray and don’t know Barb has a crush on you? Do you think I’m stupid?”

No, but maybe Steve is stupid. Or, well, oblivious. To be fair, all of his romantic attention is occupied by one Eddie Munson. He hasn’t thought about a girl in…well, he can’t remember when he last thought about a girl like that. Maybe at the party where he and Eddie got together?

It’s not like he can say that, though, because if Nancy is drunkenly revealing Barb’s crush on him, he can’t trust her with something like his and Eddie’s relationship. Steve frowns and slides a step away from Nancy. “I didn’t know Barb…had a crush, Nancy. Seriously, I didn’t. If I did, I would’ve let her down gently. I’m not exactly in the market for a girlfriend right now.”

Nancy barks out a laugh, her gaze disbelieving as she looks Steve up and down. “Yeah, right, King Steve, not prowling for his next victim,” she says, her words slurring slightly at the end. She starts to sway to the side, and Steve reaches out to steady her without thinking. Before he can touch her shoulder, Nancy jerks back, steadying herself on the side of the house, and Steve seriously can’t figure out what he did to make her so wary and suspicious of him.

His frustration builds in him, rising up from a foundation of confusion about Barb and indignation at Nancy’s entire approach to this conversation. What did she think would happen? Was she trying to get Steve to date Barb or let her down? “Seriously,” he says, one of his hands moving to his hip as he stares at Nancy, “What is your damage?”

This is, apparently, the last question he should ask. “You!” she says, her voice turning a little shrill in a way that makes Steve’s ears ring. “You’re my damage, Steve. You’re bullshit, just straight up bullshit, and I don’t know what anyone sees in you.”

In addition to his own indignation, Steve feels another surge of anger in the back of his mind, rushing through him and taking him so completely by surprise that he nearly misses her leaving with an aggravated huff. Steve watches her go, wondering if he imagined that whole conversation, and suddenly finds himself wanting to just leave.

“Stevie.”

Steve’s shoulders relax as he looks behind him, flashing a relieved smile at Eddie. “Hey,” he says, glancing down at Eddie’s empty hands. “I thought you were getting drinks.”

“I was,” Eddie says, frowning as he glances around before moving closer and hooking his pinky around Steve’s. “But I ran into that new kid, Billy or whatever, before turning the corner, and he just fucking took the cups. Shot them back like they were nothing, smirked, and walked off.”

“Definitely an asshole,” Steve says, glancing at the corner Eddie must have come around and wondering how long Billy had been standing there. He pushes the thought from his head, figuring it’s not important, and looks back at Eddie. “I’m ready to go.”

Eddie blinks, studying Steve for a moment. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah. A lot. Apparently Barb has a crush on me,” Steve says, still not sure that’s actually true.

“Oh.”

“But she also…knows…about us.”

“Is she going to be a problem?” Eddie asks, his voice unusually hard.

Steve shakes his head, thinking back to their conversation in the classroom earlier. “No, she said she was fine with it. I guess we’ll just have to…watch her. Keep an eye out or something,” he says. Despite everything, even that feels unnecessary. He doesn’t think Barb will actually do anything; she might be upset if the crush thing is true, but Steve doesn’t think Barb is the kind of person to go ruining lives and putting people in mortal danger.

“Okay,” Eddie says, taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “You know what we should do right now?”

“Listen to KISS?” Steve guesses.

Eddie grins, leaning closer. “I was gonna say watch Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“We could do both,” Steve says, his own grin matching Eddie’s. He lowers his voice to barely more than a whisper before adding, “Movie and kiss.”

“I think we’re talking about a different kiss now.”

“I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Eddie somehow grins wider and moves closer, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. Steve relaxes a little more under its weight, letting Eddie lead him from the party.

Chapter Text

The mother and the father fall asleep in a tangle of limbs on the couch, and neither stir when Dart sneaks past them. He keeps a slow pace, just in case, as he moves toward the door and the cat flap installed for him at the bottom.

Dart’s skin feels tight as he slips through the flap, trying to shake off the feeling once he’s on the other side. His skin has been tight since earlier that night when he felt a surge of indignation and anger accompanied by the vague whisper of a voice saying…something. Dart couldn’t make it out, but he could tell the words were bad because of the mother’s feelings through their bond.

And also the other sibling’s feelings.

A sibling has carefully and curiously been poking at the lonely tether between Dart and the mother. Dart knew the mother had met one of his siblings, but he hadn’t expected it to be interested in the bond. Or even aware of it, actually; the bond is so isolated, such an anomaly, that most of Dart’s siblings just think the mother is lost in the sea of connections, too insignificant to be worth noticing and too weak to hold out against the master for long.

This sibling saw it, though. It even reached out, but Dart doesn’t think the mother has realized that yet. As far as Dart can tell, the mother doesn’t want to think about the hive too much because doing so makes his head hurt. Dart would like the mother to avoid pain as much as possible, so he doesn’t have any problems with that.

Dart follows that new addition by its connection with the mother, letting it pull him away from the streets and into a field. He nearly trips over a pumpkin, his skin becoming so uncomfortable that it’s painful and pulls his focus. With a clumsy roll, Dart manages to steady himself only to dash behind another pumpkin when he hears heavy footsteps.

“--elling you, Hopper, it’s that damned McCorkle.” The man who says this has a scratchy kind of voice that makes Dart think of using his legs to scratch at his skin. Maybe that would help with the itching and stretching.

“I just don’t see how he’d manage all this, Merrill,” another man, who must be Hopper, says. “Are you sure it’s not just a bad harvest?”

“A bad harvest?! My pumpkins were perfectly fine not two days ago! If Eugene McCorkle didn’t poison my pumpkins I’ll fry up my hat and eat it for Sunday dinner,” Merrill shouts, his voice echoing in a way that makes Dart flinch back and huddle closer to the ground.

A sigh follows the shouting. It’s the kind of sigh Dart has heard from the mother, usually after the father or his human siblings have done something stupid. It’s often accompanied by a shaking head or a hand covering his eyes like that will erase the stupidity.

As Dart pictures this, he feels a tug on the connection. It’s not from the mother. It’s from the newly added sibling, confusion bleeding through the connection as to why Dart stopped moving when he’s so close. Dart tries to stretch, slow and careful, moving from one pumpkin to hide behind the next.

He finds what he’s looking for a few pumpkins later: the edge of a hole that leads down into the ground. Dart slides past the edge, leaving behind the echoes of the conversation as Hopper says, “I’ll talk to Eugene tomorrow, Merrill. C’mon, it’s too late for this shit.”

Dart is in this mini tunnel for a few minutes, just starting to wonder how deep he’ll have to crawl when the dirt gives out beneath him and he free falls into a wider tunnel. Dart bounces slightly when he hits the ground, a surprised hiss escaping from him as he rolls over and rights himself. The tunnel is mostly empty, vines crawling along the sides and spores floating in the air. They fill gaps in Dart’s lungs he didn’t even realize were there. It’s a comfortable change that he relaxes into as he turns to his sibling.

This sibling is watching him curiously, its head so high above Dart that he nearly falls onto his back trying to look up. He makes an annoyed noise, wiggling around and feeling even more constricted by his skin now that he’s in the tunnel. Dart shifts uncomfortably, pausing when he feels a memory that isn’t his being pushed to the front of his mind by the connection between him and his sibling.

It’s not one of the inherited memories Dart was born with; this is a memory belonging to his sibling, one that it chose to share in this moment, of when it first grew like Dart is now. He watches his sibling in the memory stretch itself as far as it can. Its skin begins to crack and break, dark blood dripping to the ground beneath it.

It screams, the change hurts, and it’s alone in this moment despite being surrounded by siblings. They do not offer reassurance, and it does not ask for it. That is not something it can ask; that is not something they can offer. This is a transformation that always has been, always is, and always will be done alone. Another set of legs bursts from the cracks in skin. Flecks of viscera and gore splatter across the dirt and vines, disappearing moments later.

When the change is done, when its new legs are braced against the ground and its spine has lengthened some and its muscles are sore, it collapses with an exhausted huff. It’s hungry, but none of its siblings offer food. It’s tired, but its siblings will be moving on soon, leaving it to either catch up or stay there and succumb to whatever creature passes by while it’s vulnerable.

After a few seconds, it pushes itself off the ground, legs shaky and nearly folding beneath it. They stay strong, though, holding its weight and promising to last until the pack stops to rest again. It shakily moves after the now departing pack, falling to the back and focusing only on ensuring the distance between it and its siblings does not widen.

The memory fades, and Dart curls in on himself, not at all looking forward to the pain he’s about to feel. Few things in his daily life can actually hurt him. If something looks like it hurts him, the mother is usually right behind it, picking him up and worriedly looking him over before breathing a sigh of relief and reassuring him that everything is fine.

Suddenly, Dart wants nothing more than for the mother to be there. He’d accept the father, too. He just wants one of them; he wants their reassurance. It’s very hard to be brave and alone against pain. He doesn’t have much of a choice, though, does he?

Dart settles against the ground, bracing himself to start stretching, when the dirt shifts next to him. A moment later, his sibling’s head rests on his back, pressing down and rumbling in a way that makes the stretch of his spine easier. Dart looks over his shoulder, pushing his confusion down the connection only to get a vague, blurry image of himself in the mother’s hands in return.

Apparently, he shared one of the many memories of the mother’s comfort. His sibling took it as a request for the same comfort and awkwardly tried to comply. Dart relaxes some, accepting the comfort and help as he begins to stretch once more.

Soon enough, his skin cracks and breaks, the pain of it splitting arching through him like lightning. At the last second, Dart makes sure none of it flows through his connection to the mother and accidentally sends it to his sibling. He feels more than hears his sibling hiss and growl and pushes remorse and apologies down the connection.

What he gets in return is the quick, sharp pain of his sibling dragging its claws against his side, tearing through the skin far quicker than Dart’s new legs could have. Through the newly created rip, his left hind leg pushes through, extending as far as it can as an odd sort of relief floods through him. It’s similar to the feeling Dart will get when the mother stretches after sitting still for too long.

Dart wiggles some, awkwardly turning himself around with little hops and rolls and struggling until his right side is facing his sibling. Without having to ask, his sibling tears through his skin again, wiping its claws against the nearest vine to clear away Dart’s blood. With both hind legs free, Dart stretches all of his legs outward until he’s spread-eagle.

After a few seconds, he exhales and puddles against the dirt. His sibling nudges his side curiously, its concern and confusion clear through the bond. Dart pushes himself up, his hind legs a little wobbly but quickly steadying once he takes a few steps. Adjusting to four legs is odd, but it’s made easier by shared memories from his sibling showing him the best ways to move.

Soon, Dart is prancing from one wall of the tunnel to the other, moving as naturally as he did before and feeling happy about his growth. He makes his way to his sibling, pressing close to its side as thanks and offering a few more memories through their connection, all of them featuring the mother or the father to some degree, all of them drowning in warmth and comfort and the taste of chocolate.

His sibling leans into the memories, offering its own in return of its first interaction with the mother. Along with it is a little remorse at wanting to scare and eat the mother, but Dart quickly pushes more warmth and a rather vivid memory of the mother’s voice saying, “It’s fine.” It didn’t know the mother before. How could Dart blame it for not understanding the mother and how to interact with him?

As Dart and his sibling share memories back and forth, learning from each other about how different their lives could have been, Dart rolls around in the dirt. If he returns home covered in dirt, the mother will likely be angry. If he returns home covered in his own blood, the mother will be worried. He would rather the mother be angry than worried.

Once he’s sure the blood is gone, Dart gets up and shakes off as much of the dirt he can. His sibling watches, head tilted, before pushing the image of a stream through their connection. There aren’t vines anywhere near the stream, so Dart knows it’s not in the other dimension. He pushes gratitude back, easily keeping pace when his sibling starts to walk down the tunnel.

Images of digging, of how far the tunnels extend, of where they’re planning to dig next fill Dart’s head as they walk. The tunnels seem to run under most of the town, and his siblings seem intent on expanding the system beyond the town itself. When he tries to figure out why, exactly, his siblings are so intent on digging this tunnel, his sibling doesn’t have an answer.

The clearest explanation it can give Dart is that the master wants them to, and they don’t question or deny the master’s wants. Dart thinks that’s odd and offers a few memories of himself questioning and denying the mother’s requests. He doesn’t include the mother’s reactions to those instances (most include being put in time out, grounded, or given such a disappointed look that Dart had withered into an agreeable puddle) because the most important part of the memories is that Dart could and did question and deny.

His sibling still seems confused by the idea, but it seems to understand a little better now. It switches focus, though, noticing the father in the background of some of the memories. The next images pushed through to Dart are the blurry forms of the father, his face indiscernible and his hair a floating brown mass.

Dart thinks for a moment, trying to decide what memories would best explain the father and their relationship. He settles on three.

The first is Dart’s first view of the father. He’d just been born, barely more than a writhing mass of confusion and warmth in the mother’s hands, when he’d been held up and presented to the father. He and the father had stared at each other before the father turned away, took a few steps down the hall, and then walked right back to ask the mother, “Stevie, sweetheart, baby, my muse, what the fuck?” The memory is brimming with amusement from both Dart and the mother whenever they look back on it.

The second is more like a montage of memories. It’s a collage of the father sneaking food to Dart behind the mother’s back, flashing a conspiratorial grin or winking at Dart or whispering to keep it a secret from the mother. These memories are tinged with flavor and the excitement of getting away with something ultimately harmless.

The final memory is more recent, from the past month. Dart is wandering the house, about to find the mother when he’s scooped off the ground and his sides are tickled. Dart wiggles and squirms, a stuttered hissing escaping him until the father finally stops. “Just you and me for a bit, demobaby,” the father whispers, carrying Dart into the living room. Once he’s on the couch, the father places Dart on his lap and cracks open a book. “Stevie is sleeping off a migraine, so we’re gonna stay nice and quiet and not bother him and just read together.” The father waits for Dart to settle, curled against him, before he starts reading. This memory floats in comfort and warmth, a shared care for the mother, and the soft whisper of the father’s voice.

By the time they reach the stream, Dart’s sibling seems to understand the father better. It has no memories of a similar being in its life, and it hesitates to compare the master to the mother. Dart can feel indignation, confusion about why things are so different, and a quiet hope that perhaps, now, it can experience the father and the mother.

Dart doesn’t see why the father and the mother would deny his sibling. In fact, not for the first time, Dart thinks all of his siblings would benefit from the mother and the father. He can feel them. He can feel their anger and violence and loneliness despite the seemingly endless web of connections between them.

The stream washes off enough of the dirt that whatever stubbornly remains will go unnoticed until Dart’s next bath. He climbs out of the water and shakes himself off, a cold wind blowing over him. It feels nice, but Dart would still rather burrow under a blanket next to the mother and the father. He offers a memory of this to his sibling as well, receiving interest at the soft sensation of the blanket and concern at the temperature that can’t possibly be comfortable.

Dart is about to offer more when his connection to the mother surges, a familiar sign that the mother will be waking up soon. If he’s not back in the house by then, the mother will worry.

With a push of the surge in the mother’s tether to his sibling, Dart nudges their heads together before turning in the direction of the mother. Following the connection feels easier now, and he thinks there won’t be any repeats of getting lost like before.

As Dart hurries home, faster than ever before on all four legs, he gets another push from his sibling. Gratitude, comradery, and an eagerness for the next time they meet settle along their connection to each other. Beneath it all, though, is a hope to interact with the mother more, and Dart pushes back a reassurance that its chance will surely come sooner rather than later.

Chapter Text

“I haven’t been able to find anything yet.”

Steve blinks, glancing over at Will in his passenger seat as he parks at the high school. He’d been lost in thought, working through Dart’s most recent change in form and wondering if it’s at all connected to the other creature he met during the party. Once his brain officially comes back online and focuses on the present, he finally manages to process Will’s words. “About what?”

“The hive mind thing.”

“Oh, right,” Steve says, his voice softer than before as he sighs and shuts off the car. “Where have you been looking?”

“It’s mostly just insects that experience hive minds, so I’ve been reading about bees and ants at the library. None of it focuses on the hive mind part enough, though, and none discuss breaking away from it.”

“Does that mean I’m becoming a bug?”

That earns him a quiet laugh as Will unbuckles and pulls his backpack into his lap. “No. I just have to try another angle. Dustin has been reading on radio waves to see if one might be able to disrupt the hive mind. Lucas has suggested keeping you focused on something else at all times. Mike said we could try having El use her powers on you. Or put you in a coma to see what happens”

“Why do you like him again?” Steve asks, looking over at Will and raising an eyebrow.

Will flushes slightly, glancing away. “He’s just sarcastic."

Steve sighs and reaches over, ruffling Will’s hair. “I’m just teasing. Thanks for looking into things. I’ll treat all of you to pizza at the next campaign session,” he promises.

With a bright smile and a nod, Will climbs out of the car, waving to Steve once more before heading toward the middle school. Steve watches him walk for a few minutes, keeping an eye out for any potential bullies, and sighs with relief when none appear before Will is out of sight.

A quick glance over his shoulder confirms Eddie’s van is in its usual spot, so Steve climbs out as well. He walks over to the van and pulls open the back door, blinking when the smell of weed rushes over him. “Isn’t it early?” he asks, climbing in and tugging the doors shut behind him.

Eddie shrugs from his beanbag. He scoots over a little just in time for Steve to collapse on the beanbag next to him, squeezing them together. “I was bored,” he says, offering Steve the joint.

He places it to his lips and takes a drag, letting the smoke linger in his lungs for a few seconds, curling around the edges and straining against them, before exhaling. A single stream of smoke pushes from his mouth and into the air. “What a shame,” he says, “I know much better ways of relieving boredom.”

“I can put it out,” Eddie quickly offers, plucking the joint from Steve’s fingers and getting ready to smother it in an ashtray.

Steve snorts and quickly grabs it back, taking another drag. “Nope. You’ve already lit it,” he says, sliding down in the beanbag as he inhales. Smoke falls from his lips as he adds, “Besides, we need to talk anyway.”

“Uh oh.”

“No, not about us,” Steve says. “I had another episode at the party.”

He feels Eddie pause next to him and just passes the joint over, giving him something to do. He then drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder, listening to him hum before asking, “What happened?”

“There was this…creature. I don’t know, it kind of looked like a dog, honestly. Or, like, a bigger version of what Dart is now. Anyway, I could feel it. You know, the way I can feel Dart.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, his frown obvious as he thinks. “Did it hurt you?”

“It wanted to at first. Well, it wanted to scare me and then eat me. But that connection was there, right? So it felt my panic and then tried to calm me down,” Steve explains. Because what else could have been happening? He connected to the creature, it felt his emotions and the way he couldn’t breathe, and then it let him pet it. It’s nearly shot-for-shot the process of Dart calming Steve through direct contact.

“That means your connection to the hive is growing, right? Like, you can feel more than just Dart. Have you had any problems with the Queen Bee since then?”

Steve shakes his head, accepting the joint when Eddie passes it back. They’re nearly finished with it, and he takes a short drag to make it last longer. “No. At least, no more than usual. I don’t think it’s going to hurt me or Dart.”

“They kinda look like dogs, right?” Eddie asks, waiting for Steve to nod before continuing, “Let’s just call anything like that a demodog then. We’ve already got demogorgon and demobaby. Might as well keep to the theme.”

“I thought these things don’t look at all like the D&D monsters.”

“They don’t,” Eddie says, shrugging as he takes the joint back. “But we gotta call them something.”

“Fair,” Steve replies. He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “I think…I think it could be like Dart. Like, it could be good, you know?”

“So you want to repeat your nature vs. nurture experiment.”

Steve rolls his eyes, lightly poking Eddie’s side for calling him out. “I’m just proving that I’m far better than Victor Frankenstein.”

“Does that mean I have another son now? I was sure the pull-out method would work this time.”

His words catch Steve so off guard that he can’t help laughing, turning to bury his face in Eddie’s shoulder. When he calms down, he reaches out and playfully tugs on Eddie’s belt chains. “Something tells me Dart would be excited to have a brother,” he says.

“Dart being upset about getting a partner in crime? Impossible.”

“Aren’t you the partner in crime?”

“I’m the father in crime, Stevie. That’s a very important difference. It’s not really crime if I’m there. That means I’m endorsing it.”

“No, it’s definitely crime. You’re just as guilty.”

“Well, fuck. Think the prison will give us conjugal visits?”

Steve laughs again, tugs on the belt chain again, and tilts his head to see Eddie smiling down at him. “I’ll have to think about if I wanna date a hardened criminal,” he says, keeping his tone light and airy just in case the words remind Eddie of his father.

They don’t, and a surge of relief floods through him when Eddie hums, smokes the last of the joint, and tugs Steve closer. “I can make it worth your while,” he says, his voice low and rough and making Steve think of every other rushed makeout session in the van tinged with the thrill of getting caught.

Steve moves first, kissing Eddie and playfully biting his bottom lip. He feels Eddie laugh softly against him before rolling to straddle Steve’s hips and kiss him properly. The slide of their tongues and the push-and-pull of their lips is all Steve can focus on, his brain going wonderfully blank in the wake of Eddie.

He reaches up and wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, letting one of his hands tangle with Eddie’s hair. Eddie hums softly in approval, playfully swiping the tip of his tongue across the roof of Steve’s mouth to tickle him. His hands push beneath Steve’s shirt, landing in their favorite spot just below Steve’s ribs. Steve’s next exhale is shaky as Eddie’s fingers dig into his skin, pressing in just the right spot to make him melt.

By the time the bell rings in the distance, Eddie’s hands have started their journey south, skimming over Steve’s hips and ready to push into his back pockets. Steve waits for him to stop, to realize they need to go, but Eddie just keeps kissing him breathless. With extreme reluctance, Steve taps Eddie’s neck twice, inhaling sharply when Eddie pulls away.

Their lips are swollen, their hair is definitely rumpled, and Steve knows they’ll be scrambling to adjust their clothes as they climb out of the van. But he finds it hard to care when Eddie is smiling at him like he’s the moon in the sky. “Are you sure you want to go to school today?” Eddie asks.

Steve considers skipping. He really does. And then he remembers a test scheduled that day and basketball later, and Steve forces himself to nod. “I’m sure,” he says, sitting up and forcing Eddie to lean back. He then pauses and grins. “Don’t you wanna watch me play today?”

“Hmm,” Eddie says, pulling back so he can start fixing his shirt. “Do I want to watch my pretty boyfriend run around all sweaty while throwing balls into laundry baskets?”

“If you cheer loud enough, I could take my shirt off.”

Eddie grins. “You’ve got a deal, sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Steve’s lips. Thankfully, he pulls away before Steve can kiss him again, and passes him a spare brush to fix his hair.

When Eddie offered to take El to school that morning, she had shaken her head and said she was going to see if Max wanted to go together. Either way, it was a nice enough day to ride her bike, so she could enjoy the weather alone if Max didn’t want to accompany her.

She’d walked across the way, knocked exactly three times on the door of Max’s trailer, and taken a step back just in case it was the kind of door that opens outwards. A few seconds passed before it opened (inwards), and a boy around Eddie’s age with blond hair and a frown stared at her. “Whaddya want?” he’d asked.

El hadn’t expected anyone other than Max, and she’d been silent for a few seconds before asking, “Is Max home?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, looking El over. She hadn’t liked the way he looked at her, like he was trying to decide if she’d be useful to him later. It had reminded her of the scientists in the lab and set her skin crawling. She’d almost turned around and gone back to Eddie for a hug and a ride to school, but then the boy had nodded and closed the door.

El had blinked, staring at the door and wondering if that was supposed to be a silent way of telling her to leave. Before she could knock again, the door was opened once more, this time revealing Max. “Hey,” she’d said, confusion clear in her voice. “What’s up?”

“We are friends,” El said, “and friends can go to school together. Would you like to join me?”

Max had flashed a blinding grin in response, one that reminded El of Steve, and told El to wait while she got her bag and skateboard.

And now they’re nearly halfway to the school, the conversation about what breakfast food is best dying out. El glances over at Max, taking in her relaxed shoulders and the slight smile tugging at her mouth. “Yesterday,” she says, getting Max’s attention once more, “you called the boys dweebs.”

“Yep.”

“Dweeb is usually used as an insult.”

Max glances at El, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. But it’s true. They are dweebs,” she points out.

“They are also my friends,” El says, thinking for a moment. Steve once told her that, sometimes, you have friends that just don’t get along with each other. It’s not fun to force them to get along, so the best option is to just keep them apart and hang out separately. El can accept that, but she also thinks Max and the boys would get along if they’d just talk.

They have common interests, and Dustin and Lucas already expressed a desire to get to know Max better. Mike seems resistant, but Eddie had said he probably has a crush on her (she’s worried that is something particularly bad based on the face Steve made at Eddie’s words) and would want to make her happy, so she’ll tell him that getting along with Max would make her happy.

“I would like for you to try talking to them just to say you did.”

Max sighs, the sound heavy and similar to Eddie’s dramatic sighs whenever Steve asks to change the music to one of Wayne’s records. “They’re so lame, though,” Max says.

“If you do not like them by the end of today, I will not ask again,” El promises.

She means it. If Max doesn’t like the boys, El won’t bring it up. She’ll simply go to school with Max in the mornings, ride halfway home with the boys, and spend the rest of the journey with Max again. She can also tell the boys that Sundays are reserved for hanging out with Max, so they better not plan anything that requires her on those days.

“Fine,” Max says, sniffing once as the school comes into view. In the distance, El can see the boys crowded together at one of the picnic tables outside. “I’ll give them one day to prove they aren’t total dweebs, but that’s it.”

“Thank you,” El says, smiling when Max turns to look at her. She quickly looks away, the tips of her eyes turning red, and El wonders if she should ask if Max is feeling okay. The redness fades after a few seconds, so she dismisses the idea.

When they reach the bike rack, Max watches El methodically loop a chain around her bike twice, around the rack three times, and then once more around the bike before placing the combo lock on it. “That seems like a lot,” Max says.

“It is necessary,” El replies, standing up straight after checking to make sure the chain is secure. “Someone could steal my bike, and it was a gift from my family.”

It had been a joint gift between Wayne, Eddie, and Steve. They’d pooled their money together, taken El to a bike shop, and told her to pick out whichever one she wanted. After choosing a purple bike with a white and black basket, Steve had taught her how to ride it, explaining the concept of training wheels only to realize El could simply use her powers to stay upright.

“Yeah, but a pair of bolt cutters makes all of that pointless,” Max says.

El blinks, looks back at the chain, and frowns slightly. “Do people normally carry bolt cutters?” she asks.

“I guess not.”

That’s something she can worry about later, then. For now, El holds out her hand to Max. This is something friends do, she thinks. Mike has held Will’s hand before, and they’re best friends, so this should be fine.

Max blinks, stares at the offered hand, and hesitates before taking it. El flashes another smile and leads her over to where the boys are sitting. They have to weave around a few groups of kids clustered together, some of them sparing a glance while others just ignore them completely.

Once they’re closer, Will is the first to notice them. He smiles and waves, alerting everyone else to their presence.

“El!” Mike shouts, his grin wide as he stands only to falter when he sees Max. His smile falls into a confused frown. “What are you doing with her?”

“Max is my friend,” El explains.

“How come you’ll be her friend but not ours?!” Dustin asks.

Max huffs, still holding El’s hand as she levels an unamused look at him. “Because El is cool. Y’all are dweebs.”

“We like the same stuff, though,” Lucas says, more confused than anything else. “If we’re dweebs, then shouldn’t you be one as well?”

“No.”

“Well what do you have that we don’t?” Mike asks, arms crossed over his chest as he sits back on the bench.

Max thinks for a moment, seeming to genuinely consider the question. “Confidence.”

“Ouch,” Lucas mumbles, slumping over the table.

“Is it even safe to be her friend?” Mike asks, ignoring the warning look from Lucas and the obvious kick that Dustin aims at his shin.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Max asks in return, her voice lowering and her tone getting firm. It’s similar to Steve’s voice when he finds out someone has been bullying Will and Wayne’s voice whenever someone calls Eddie a “Satanist,” whatever that is. The point is, El knows from experience that this is an “Angry” voice.

Mike splutters for a moment, starting to speak only to stop himself. After a few seconds, he looks at Dustin. “C’mon, man, tell Max why it wouldn’t be safe.”

Dustin blinks, looking utterly betrayed. He then tries to answer anyway. “Because, um, well, you know,” he says, his shoulders falling at the pitiful attempt.

“What? Is it because I live in a trailer? Do you think the trailer park is dangerous? El lives there, too, ya know. Is it because I’m not girly enough? What, exactly, is the problem here?”

El decides to save the boys from answering. “I am not normal,” she says, looking at Max and ignoring the noises of protest coming from the others at revealing this secret. “I could be a danger to you.”

“Yeah, I already knew you weren’t normal,” Max replies.

“You did?” El asks, frowning slightly and wondering when she might have given herself away.

“I don’t care,” Max tells her, shrugging when El looks up. “I knew someone like you back in California. You’re, like, more normal than they were, though.”

El is beginning to think they’re talking about different things, but she knows there isn’t nearly enough time before classes start to actually get an explanation she’ll understand. Instead, she just nods and looks at the boys. “There. It is safe, and I would not hurt my friend.”

The boys nod, and a few seconds of silence pass before Mike finally asks, “Why are you holding her hand, El?”

El blinks, looks down at their hands, and just squeezes when Max loosens her grip. When she looks up, Max has squeezed her hand back and Mike is frowning even harder. “Because we are friends. Friends hold hands.”

“You’ve never held my hand.”

“Wayne says I should not hold a boy’s hand. Unless the boy is Will, Eddie, or Steve,” El explains. After a brief pause, she recalls the rest of that particular conversation and adds, “He said I especially should not hold your hand, Mike. Wayne said you would give me cooties, which sound painful, so I will listen to him.”

Next to her, Max snorts, barely holding herself back from full-on laughing. Lucas and Dustin don’t bother, both of them practically falling backwards off the bench from how hard they laugh. They seem to give Max unspoken permission, because she doubles over a second later, pulling El’s hand down with her. Will is the only one who hasn’t started laughing, but he is smiling as he consoles Mike by patting his shoulder.

“Did I say something funny?” El asks, looking at Max when she finally starts to calm down enough to breathe normally.

“Yeah, you did,” Max replies, grinning at her as the bell rings and the other students begin filtering into the building. She looks at the boys and sighs. “Listen up, I promised El to give you losers a chance, so you’ve got till the end of the day to prove you’re not gonna be a bore to hang out with.”

Dustin and Lucas light up at her words, Mike just stands up and angrily shoulders his bag, and Will smiles at Max again. “You can join us for lunch,” he offers.

When Max nods, El feels something warm and reassuring settle in her.

Chapter Text

Hawkins is a small town, which means everyone knew when Steve Harrington landed himself in the hospital after his "kidnapping" with a concussion. They knew when he was released. They knew about him getting woozy that one time in the record store with Eddie. And they knew about the basketball coach pulling Steve into his cramped office to discuss his future on the team.

For nearly two hours Steve argued that he probably shouldn’t play basketball anymore and the coach stubbornly said that Steve was one of their best players and the team would be “up the shit creek without a square of toilet paper in sight” without him. In the end, Steve had reluctantly agreed to attend the first practice of the year, see how it went, and tell the coach of anything that might make it easier for him to play.

Everyone in Hawkins knows exactly how it went. Steve was doing good. He was playing and tired without being woozy. But the sharp squeak of tennis shoes on the gym floor grated on his ears until he wanted to collapse, the buzz of the scoreboard everytime a team got a basket during their scrimmage made his vision blur, and the constant shouting made his lungs tight and his head ring.

Everyone in Hawkins knows Steve went down during that practice, unable to breathe between his nerve-endings screaming and the phantom sensation of the demogorgon’s hand around his waist, claws digging into his skin. He couldn’t pull himself out of it until his teammates had helped him to the stands, sat him down, and let Eddie take over.

Because everyone in Hawkins knows that, for some inexplicable reason, Eddie Munson is one of three people who can calm Steve down without the risk of getting punched. The black eye Tommy sported for several days after he tried to shake Steve back to normal was proof enough of that.

Everyone in Hawkins knows that Steve and the basketball coach had another two hour conversation that ended with another hesitant (on Steve’s part) agreement to attend one more basketball practice. This time, he’d have ear plugs.

And everyone in Hawkins knows that it worked, that Steve can play just as well as before with the plugs in his ears to dull sounds.

Everyone knows, so nobody thinks to talk about these things, and that is something Steve realizes at basketball practice after school when Billy Hargrove stands shirtless in front of him and starts talking.

It’s not that Steve can’t hear with the earplugs. It’s that he can’t hear well. His teammates and the coach and everyone else in the school know to shout if they want his attention during practice. If they don’t, Steve is just going to stare at them like they’re the stupid one. Because they are, and he thinks they deserve to know that.

So, while Billy is talking, a smug smirk on his face, Steve doesn’t bother trying to translate the dull pitch changes that manage to break through the plugs. He catches a word or two because they’re familiar (his name, for example), but nothing else sticks. When Billy’s mouth finally stops moving, Steve starts to tell him about the earplugs only for the coach’s whistle to blow and signal the beginning of practice.

Steve immediately puts it out of his mind. He throws himself into the familiar routine of practice, allowing his brain to stop thinking about anything else. Even Dart knows that he shouldn’t reach out to Steve during this time unless it’s an emergency.

Through warm-ups, shooting drills, defense and offense drills, and even the weave drill, Billy is practically glued to Steve’s side. Every time Steve glances at him, his mouth is moving and his expression is growing increasingly frustrated. It takes a few glances to realize Billy has been trying to rile him up this whole time, completely unaware of how pointless it is.

His expression only gets worse when Eddie slides into the gym with Gareth, Asher, and Jeff halfway through the defense drills. Once they’re on the stands and have reached the highest bench, Eddie stands and shouts, “Hey, Harrington!”

He’s loud enough to cut through the rest of the noise in the gym and the earplugs. The words are still a little dull and muffled, but Steve can understand them just fine. He can’t help the slight smile he gets as he turns and waves to Eddie, getting a wave in return from each of the guys.

Eddie’s grin gets even wider at the acknowledgment from Steve. “I wanna see some hustle, Harrington! Keep those legs up!”

Steve snorts, about to shout back when the coach’s shrill whistle cuts him off. It’s quickly followed by the coach marching over to the stands and shouting up, “Shut it, Munson! You’re distracting my players.”

The usual back-and-forth between the coach and Eddie proceeds, as reliable and normal as the 15 minute break in the middle of practice. Steve rolls his eyes fondly and turns back to focus on their current drill, the back of his neck prickling under an intense gaze. He looks directly at Billy, notices the way his jaw is clenched, the vein on his forehead nearly popping, and holds his gaze for a few seconds before looking away.

When Steve looks back on things later, he’ll identify that moment as the final straw.

The last 45 minutes of practice are devoted to a scrimmage, which is made all the more realistic by Eddie and the guys in the stands cheering obnoxiously every time Steve so much as looks at the ball, much less actually has it. They make him laugh a few times, though, especially when the coach shouts at them to stop horsing around when Gareth nearly slips off the bleachers.

A bead of sweat runs into Steve’s eye before he can wipe it away, stinging painfully as he swipes the ball from an opponent. His hair is sticking to his forehead and the nape of his neck, and if he hadn’t yanked his shirt off before the scrimmage (because he keeps his promises), it would be soaked with sweat. His arms feel a little sore, his legs are even worse, and something keeps tugging at the back of his mind.

It doesn’t feel like Dart, which makes it all the more distracting as he dribbles. It feels a little familiar, but not like the Queen Bee. Whatever he’s connecting to is curious and excited, and he can almost imagine something running back and forth along the court beside him. Nothing is there when he looks, of course, but the awareness is making his head hurt.

He can feel a migraine starting to form as the squeaks and shouts and shrill whistles push past the earplugs, stabbing at his brain. Steve grits his teeth and focuses, halfway to the basket when Billy blocks him. He curses under his breath, turning his body to keep the ball as far from Billy as possible. Steve tries to move past, but Billy is persistent, sticking to him like glue.

When Steve looks over his shoulder, he can see Billy’s mouth moving again, and his annoyance spikes. “Look, man, just focus on playing the game,” he says, frowning as he tries to turn past Billy again only to fail.

He’s practically stuck to Steve now, their arms constantly brushing and Billy’s chest bumping into Steve’s back insistently. Each touch makes Steve’s skin crawl, his hairs standing on end with the sheer wrongness of it that isn’t helped by the mounting frustration in the back of his mind from whatever is hovering around. Steve nearly growls when Billy bumps him again. The sound gets caught in his throat as the pain in his head spikes, sending little black dots along the edge of his vision.

He’s distracted by the sensation long enough for Billy to get the advantage. He feels Billy’s foot sweep behind his ankle, kicking his foot out from under him. It’s followed by Billy slamming into Steve’s side to grab for the ball, successfully stealing it and leaving Steve to slip to the floor. He isn’t at all prepared to split-second protect his head from hitting the hard laminate.

Steve’s ears ring and his brain seems to rip apart when his head knocks against the floor, bouncing from the force as the world tilts and blurs. Steve groans, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting against the sudden, inescapable nausea that surges through him.

Something nudges against his hand, and suddenly the nausea is gone. Instead, he’s worried about the sibling’s mother, angry at the other human that hurt the sibling’s mother, and filled with the urge to rip through the tunnel beneath the building to attack. He’s pushing his head under the warm hand, inspecting the sibling’s mother for more obvious injuries and relieved when he doesn’t smell or taste blood. He’s pushing reassurance to the sibling through their new connection, quelling the mounting concern that was being sent to him.

Steve inhales sharply as he opens his eyes, surrounded by vines and spores that float in the air. His left hand is resting on a familiarly-shaped head, and he almost expects to see Dart when he looks over. Instead, he sees the demodog, the same one from the party, tilting its head beneath his palm and shuffling a little closer.

A new tether in the back of his mind thrums, making itself known as concern and anger and the desire to rip a human to shreds washes over him. Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he carefully sits up. “No,” he mumbles, grimacing at the shooting pain through the back of his head. Yeah, that’s definitely going to bruise. “You can’t hurt people.”

Indignation follows his words. So does a memory, blurry and wavy like it’s been filtered through funhouse mirrors, of Billy sweeping Steve’s foot and purposefully slamming into him to make him fall. It takes a few seconds for Steve to realize this is the demodog’s memory. It takes nearly a minute for him to realize the demodog is the familiar-but-not-Dart presence that was running up and down the court with him.

His shoulders relax, and he looks the demodog over, taking in the way it’s sitting patiently next to him, absolutely still like any movements will make Steve’s hand slide away. He huffs softly and slides his palm along the demodog’s head, feeling eagerness and slight confusion at the sensation. “Seriously,” Steve says, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “No hurting people. Yeah, he’s an asshole, but he doesn’t deserve to get eaten.”

The demodog huffs and slides down to the floor, laying out next to Steve in a move that’s so similar to the way Dart would puddle in his palm with disappointment that Steve can’t help a bark of laughter. Before he can soothe the demodog, it straightens up, looks to Steve’s right, and growls low in its throat. Nothing is there when Steve looks, but his confusion is cleared when another blurry image is pushed to him.

He’s laid out on the floor, surrounded by his teammates and looking completely knocked out. To his right, Billy is smirking down at him, idly nudging Steve’s ribs with his sneaker. Based on the growling and the slight tingle to his ribs, Steve would say it isn’t exactly gentle nudging. Muffled shouts follow, and the coach pushes through the circle of teammates.

Steve blinks away the scene, looking at the demodog. “Hey, it’s fine,” he promises, petting it with both hands now. When the demodog looks at him, he suddenly remembers thinking about the sibling while they were connected. “Who did you mean?” he asks, his voice soft and more speaking to himself than the creature.

He gets an image anyway, his mind flooded with images of Dart looking up at him and growing hind legs and prancing around a tunnel after getting used to them. “Oh,” Steve breathes, focusing on the demodog once more.

Before he can ask where this demodog and Dart met, a warm, familiar hand is brushing along his forehead and the cool metal of rings is pressing against his inner wrist. Something in him relaxes even more at the sensations. Steve blinks again and finds himself grimacing at the bright lights of the gym above him, the vines and spores gone.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut until the brightness dims. When he opens them again, Eddie’s face is hovering over his, semi-frizzy hair hanging like a curtain around him. With a relieved smile, Eddie gently taps his knuckles against Steve’s forehead. “Hey, Stevie,” he whispers, and the fact that Steve can hear him must mean someone had removed his earplugs.

“Hey,” he says back, taking a deep breath before nodding once. Eddie pulls back and helps Steve sit up, a hand on his shoulder as they move slowly. His head still swims, though, and he misses the quiet of the Demiplane’s version of the gym.

The team’s coach is crouching next to them, frowning as he looks Steve up and down. “How you feeling, Harrington?” he asks.

Steve takes a moment, his brain sluggishly chugging along as it tries to process getting jostled around, the noises around him, and the newly acknowledged connection in his mind. After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath. “You might need to bench me,” he admits, grimacing at how the coach’s face darkens.

He can feel Eddie tense next to him. “We wouldn’t be here if Hargrove hadn’t body-slammed him,” he says, his voice low and angry. Steve tries to ignore how it’s suddenly all he can think about. “You’re not gonna fucking suspend him or whatever it is you do?”

“Language, Munson,” the coach warns, “I’m still a teacher.”

“It’s fine, Eds,” Steve says, looking up and smiling reassuringly at Eddie.

Eddie holds his gaze for a few seconds before huffing. “Fine,” he mutters, looking away and leaving Steve absolutely sure that he’s going to be pouty the entire night. It’s nothing that letting him read Lord of the Rings aloud won’t fix, though.

With a nod, the coach stands and claps his hands, making Steve grimace at the sound. “We’re ending practice early today. Do your cool downs and go shower,” he announces before adding, “Hargrove, my office, now.”

“Don’t sweat it, Harrington,” Billy says with an easy grin.

Steve blinks, water in his eyes. He’d been bracing himself for Billy to try something after getting out of the coach’s office. He hadn’t been expecting it to happen in the shower.

“Today’s just not your day, man,” Billy adds.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve says, glancing over before putting his head under the spray and letting the water drench his hair.

“It’s just not his year,” Tommy says, butting his way into the conversation like he belongs. Steve doesn’t even think there should be a conversation, but he’ll let Tommy and Billy amuse themselves. “Between going missing, striking way out with Wheeler, and now just fainting like a little bitch? You just can’t win, huh?”

“I didn’t strike out with Nancy,” Steve says, grabbing the soap so he can clean his hair and think about the care routine he’ll have to implement later to make up for it.

He hears Tommy wheeze and laugh. “Harrington, man, she’s dating that Byers freak,” Tommy says, resting his arm on the shower pipe and leaning forward. “Just face it, you’ve lost your edge.”

“Gotta agree with him,” Billy says, the lilt to his voice putting Steve on edge. He clenches his jaw and doesn’t say anything as he rubs the soap into his hair. “I mean, you couldn’t even reel in Holland, and she looks desperate. I bet she’d date a pig if it asked her out. At least they’d have something in common.”

Rage pure and simple simmers below Steve’s skin, bubbling to the surface. He swallows it down, forcing himself to relax. The worry and reassurance that’s coming from both Dart and the new demodog help.

He finally looks at Billy. “Watch your mouth, Hargrove. Don’t be an asshole just because you're not enough of a man to date her,” he says. Then, to add insult to injury, he looks Billy over with an unimpressed expression before meeting his gaze again. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

He can see the anger that flickers in Billy’s eyes, the way his fist clenches like he’s about to punch Steve. He can also see the deep breath Billy takes after glancing around the locker room, apparently realizing this isn’t the place to start a fight if he’s smart. “Don’t take it so hard, man,” Billy says, “Pretty boy like you has nothing to worry about.”

Steve holds back a snort, ignoring the sick feeling that crawls along his spine at Billy calling him a pretty boy. It just sounds wrong coming from anyone but Eddie. Before he can say anything, Billy leans a little closer. “Plenty of bitches in the sea, right?” he asks, reaching over and shutting off Steve’s showerhead.

He smirks when Steve glances up, frowning slightly, and grabs his towel. “I’ll be sure to leave you a few,” he throws over his shoulder, clearly trying to rile Steve up as he walks out of the shower.

Thankfully, Tommy practically scrambles after him, leaving Steve alone. He takes a deep breath, turns on the spray again, and finishes his shower as quickly as he can. He gets through it in record time, hanging a towel around his neck after he’s gotten dressed to catch any stray drops of water.

The sight of Eddie and the guys when he leaves the locker room is a welcome one, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he walks over, catching the last bits of the conversation. “--ink we should have Steve look them over,” Eddie says.

“Look what over?” Steve asks, sliding in next to Eddie and not arguing when he takes his bag off his shoulders.

“Asher wrote some lyrics. Eddie thinks they’re good. Jeff thinks we should put them to music, and I think that means we’ll need a jam session this weekend,” Gareth explains with a grin.

“We’ll have to just work on Saturday,” Eddie says, throwing an arm over Steve’s shoulders. “Stevie and I have plans on Sunday.”

“We do?” Steve asks, wondering if he somehow forgot about it.

Eddie hums, looking down at him and tilting his head. “Yeah, Stevie,” he says, “plans."

Oh. Eddie’s planned a date. It feels so normal that Steve can’t help something in his chest settling with contentment. He grins and nods. “Right, plans.”

Barb frowns as she stuffs books for the next day’s morning classes inside her locker. She’s tired after choir practice and very much looking forward to just collapsing in bed for a few minutes once she gets home before starting on homework. If she’s lucky, she won’t think about Steve or the way her heart still flutters sometimes when he smiles or the guilt that simmers in her stomach when she realizes she’s still crushing on someone in a relationship.

She sighs and slams her locker shut, jerking back when she sees a boy on the other side of it. He looks familiar, and it takes her a few seconds to realize he’s that new kid, Billy. “Uh, can I help you?” she asks, holding her books closer to her chest.

“Yeah,” Billy says, smiling at her. It’s filled with confidence, but his eyes don’t seem to match that. “You’re Barb, right? Holland? I’m Billy Hargrove. I just moved here with my family.”

Barb nods. Everyone knows this. It’s a small town. “Right. That doesn’t really answer my question, though,” she says.

Billy’s grin gets a little wider like he finds her genuinely amusing instead of annoying. He glances away, rubs the back of his neck, and glances back. “Honestly, I don’t really know my way around that well. I was wondering if you could show me some good spots to eat.”

Is this…is he…asking her out?

People don’t ask Barb out. They ask out Nancy sometimes, but they don’t ask out Barb. The fact that Billy is handsome enough to date any girl in the school just makes alarm bells ring in her head. A few seconds pass as Barb tries to process this information. Then, without her brain’s permission, her mouth blurts out, “Are you asking me on a date?”

The next smile is just barely sheepish, and Barb suddenly knows exactly what kind of person Billy is. She’s seen him around the halls before. He’s cocky, he’s confident, he thinks he can get any girl he wants, and he’s got the skills to do it. And those skills definitely include acting however he needs to make a girl swoon. Right now, he seems to have decided Barb is the kind to swoon over someone who’s shy when he’s called out.

“I didn’t want to be too forward,” Billy says, “but yeah.”

“Why?”

Billy looks up, meets her eyes, and earnestly says, “I think you’re pretty.”

So. He’s a good liar.

Barb considers him for a moment, tilting her head. She takes in everything from his hair to his height to the kind of shoes he’s wearing. He does tick off a few of her requirements: pretty eyes, a nice smile, taller than her, good hair. He also seems like a good enough actor to keep up this drama for as long as he wants, and he seems committed to this for some reason, so Barb would guess this will last at least a month.

Maybe Barb deserves to have a little fun. If Billy is going to use her for whatever reason, she can certainly use him as a distraction to get over Steve. If nothing else, he’ll be a pretty face and good for a kiss or two. Besides, this will also get her mom off her back about going on dates and not staying in the house all the time.

She glances away, taps her fingers against her book, and then looks back. “When were you thinking?” she finally asks.

Billy smiles bright like he’s won the lottery, straightening up some. “How about Friday? We could go after school,” he says.

“And you’re fine being seen with me?” Barb asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watches his reaction.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Okay, that’s a good answer. He’s good enough at this for Barb to pretend she believes him. “Okay, then,” she says, nodding once and flashing him a tiny smile, so he thinks she’s falling for his game. She has to throw a bone or two, after all. “Friday it is.”

Chapter Text

With Merrill’s permission, Hopper carefully makes his way through the pumpkin patch. The overwhelming smell of the gourds is making his nose burn, a permanent grimace tugging at his lips as he steps in rotten pumpkin guts. The squishing sound they make beneath his heel is enough to put Hopper on edge. He’s really not looking forward to cleaning his shoes later.

Hopper sighs and comes to a stop right around where he and Merrill were two nights ago. He plants the shovel Merrill insisted he bring along (something about him needing to dig eventually to unearth whatever trickery McCorkle planted) and takes a good look around.

There are a few clouds in the sky, but the sun has no trouble shining through them. The pumpkin patch stretches out for yards in each direction, seeming endless from where Hopper is standing. A few flies and other insects buzz around the rotting pumpkins, occasionally landing before launching themselves into the air again. Oddly enough, only one part of the patch is visibly rotten. He’d passed a few softer looking pumpkins on his way over, but they hadn’t been caving in on themselves and falling apart like the ones he’s currently standing among.

He sighs and starts inspecting the area, walking around slowly and nudging pumpkins with his foot at random. He doesn’t expect to find anything interesting. He’s not even sure what he should be looking for that could explain the rot. All he can see is a bad harvest, and Merrill will be lucky if it doesn’t spread to the rest of the patch.

Hopper winds his way around a larger clump of pumpkins, idly glancing at them only to stop in his tracks. It’s almost hidden, but the pumpkins were either bumped out of place or simply rotted inwards enough to reveal a weird looking vine. Hopper isn’t a farmer, and he doesn’t know much about plants in general, but he knows they shouldn’t look slimy the way this one does.

Maybe there’s some truth to Merrill’s suspicions after all.

He retreats to grab the shovel, carrying it over to the clump of pumpkins. He uses the end of it to nudge a few more out of the way, revealing a good five inches of vine poking out of the ground. Once it’s visible, he plants the shovel in the ground, uses his foot to push it into the soil, and begins to dig a hole.

He’s nearly three feet into the ground, following the vine down through the dirt, when it just gives out beneath him. One second Hopper is standing confidently, and the next he’s weightless and getting the breath knocked out of him when he lands.

“Shit,” he groans, wincing as he pushes himself up and looks around. He’s in a tunnel of some kind, wide and turning out of his sight a few yards down. Hopper blinks, gets to his feet, and walks closer to the wall of the tunnel to inspect the vines crawling along it.

They seem to shift and squirm, like something is inside them and moving around. A few of them have tiny flower buds that haven’t bloomed yet, but that apparently hasn’t stopped them from releasing spores that linger and float in the air. Hopper is sure it’s just his imagination, but he feels like they just settle in his lungs, making their new home there.

Something about the vines and the spores and the sheer atmosphere of this tunnel is familiar to him. Hopper steps away from the wall, looking up to consider the hole he’d literally dug himself into as he tries to figure out why. Despite the direct sunlight streaming into the tunnel, it’s still dark, a red and blue haze seeming to hang over everything until it’s dim.

This is what sparks his memory of talking to Will Byers after he and Steve Harrington had been found by Eddie Munson. Steve hadn’t been able to speak on account of being passed out, but Joyce had given Hopper permission to talk with Will.

“We weren’t kidnapped.”

That’s the first thing Will had said when Hopper sat down in a private nurse’s lounge with him, wanting to avoid taking the kid down to the station if he could help it.

“Well,” Hopper had said, “why don’t you tell me what did happen.”

What followed was something that belonged right in a horror novel. An alternate dimension with monsters that would have killed Will if Steve weren’t there to protect him. A place that looks exactly like Hawkins but wrong, a place with vines growing over everything and permanently covered in a dark haze.

Hopper didn’t believe a word. He’d chalked it up to Will being young and his brain not wanting to accept reality. Once Steve was awake and able to talk, Hopper would get the real story from him.

It’s only now, as Hopper is starting to inspect the vines to see if they’re strong enough for him to climb back up, that he realizes he never did speak with Steve Harrington. It just slipped his mind, and the kid never swung by the station or called to report that they were, in fact, kidnapped. 

In fact, he’d seemed perfectly content to let the whole matter fade into the past.

And that…that’s an odd oversight on Hopper’s part. He should’ve been more persistent about it, but he’d gotten distracted by Wayne Munson calling in a favor, which was also weird. Wayne Munson didn’t like calling in favors. He preferred to forget they existed, saying favors imply that he wouldn’t have helped otherwise when that just isn’t true.

Call in a favor he did, though. It wasn’t a small one, either. He’d discovered his brother had another kid, just a twelve year old girl who would’ve been thrown to the state after her mother passed if she hadn’t run away after finding some journal with her absent father’s name and an address in Hawkins.

She left without a thing to her name beyond that journal. Her mother had been one of those hippy types, apparently, the kind who preferred a home birth with weed to numb the pain and saw no point to things like birth certificates and social security numbers. Getting the kid some was the favor Wayne had called in, asking Hopper to pull a few strings to make the process smoother and a little more legit in the eyes of the law.

Considering the trouble that had given him, forgetting about following up with Steve Harrington doesn’t seem too unforgivable.

Hopper sighs and starts climbing the wall, gripping the vines tightly and ignoring the slight pricks of pain in his palms as he uses them to pull himself up. It’s slow going, made all the slower by his need to find solid footholds and the worry that grows in the back of his mind at the vines just giving out and letting him fall back to the ground.

By the time he’s dragging himself out of the hole, Hopper is covered in sweat and dirt, his eyes stinging and his palms stained red from the many pinpricks of blood those vines drew. He hadn’t expected anything like thorns, but he won’t forget if he has to climb them again.

With one deep, spore-free breath, Hopper picks up the shovel, uses it to cut off three inches of the vine that got him digging in the first place, and places it in a spare evidence bag from his pocket. He stands, studies the vine in the bag, and decides he’d better shower before paying the Byers a visit.

Joyce might have been happy to see Hopper on her porch if he didn’t look so serious when she opened the door. “Chief Hopper,” she says, not bothering to hide her confusion, “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Joyce. Is Will in? I need to talk to him.”

That just puts her even more on edge but only because anything that could put Will and trouble in the same sentence makes her nervous. She’d have probably had a nervous breakdown if not for Will’s friends and Steve making sure her youngest son is rarely alone.

“What’s this about?” Joyce asks, stepping aside and waving Hopper in. She closes the door behind him, locking it firmly and double-checking before slipping around Hopper and leading him to the living room. “He’s not in trouble, is he?”

She doesn’t know what Will could’ve done to get into trouble, but she wouldn’t be surprised if his friends did something. They’re all sweet boys, don’t get her wrong, but she also won’t lie to herself by saying they’re never menaces.

“No, nothing like that,” Hopper says, his smile a little strained but genuine enough. He turns away from her as they enter the living room, looking to where Will is sitting on the couch with a sketchpad.

The TV is on, but he seems to be using it more for background noise than anything else. From this distance, Hopper can see some dog-like creature on the paper as Will colors it in with a gray colored pencil. He seems focused, his brows furrowed as he turns the sketchpad to get just the right angle, and Hopper feels a little bad as he walks over and sits on the couch next to him.

Will jumps slightly, looking up and scooting back a bit when he sees Hopper. “Uh, hi,” he says, looking at his mother for answers.

“Chief Hopper here said he needed to talk to you, honey,” Joyce explains, walking over and perching on the arm of the couch next to Will. She places a hand on his head, smoothing down his hair. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Will says, looking back at Hopper with an even more confused expression. “What about?”

“I was hoping you could tell me again what happened to you and Steve Harrington.”

He sees in real time as some of the color drains from Will’s face, his shoulders tensing as he leans back into his mother. Will looks away, gripping the edges of his sketchpad. “I’d rather not,” he mumbles, looking down at the paper and grimacing before turning it to a clean page.

“I’d be grateful if you could,” Hopper says, keeping his voice gentle.

Will glances at him, seeming to consider his expression before stubbornly setting his jaw. “I don’t want to,” he says, his voice still quiet but undeniably firm. Hopper finds himself respecting the kid’s guts. “If…if you want to know, you should talk to Steve.”

Hopper was planning to talk to Steve Harrington anyway. He nods once, smiles thankfully at Will, and pushes himself off the couch. “Figured I’d ask,” he says, taking note of the way Will’s shoulders relax once he’s standing.

“And now you have,” Joyce says, her voice considerably harder than before as she stands. “I’ll walk you out.”

Hopper knows that tone, and he’s already braced himself for Joyce to follow him onto the porch, make sure the door is shut, and whirl on him with a hissed, “What are you doing?!”

“I needed to ask, Joyce.”

“Oh! You needed to ask? You needed to remind Will of what he’s been through when he’s finally, finally, starting to get through the night without screaming himself awake and needing to call Steve Harrington to make sure he’s alive? What could possibly require you to risk my son having a nervous breakdown?”

For a few seconds, Hopper considers lying. He could just say they’ve got a lead on the potential kidnapper. Joyce would see through him in a second, though. So, he sighs heavily and looks away, watching as a car drives down the street. “I have reason to believe Will’s story isn’t just a story,” he finally says.

When he looks back, Joyce has gone from upset to downright confused. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Merrill called me to his farm a few days ago because the pumpkins were rotting. I went back today to look things over and fell into a tunnel filled with these vines,” Hopper explains, digging the evidence bag out of his pocket to show Joyce the chunk of vine inside.

He lets her take the bag, turning it over in her hands. “That tunnel reminded me of Will’s story, so I figured I’d ask him about it again. Now it just looks like I’ll be tracking down Steve Harrington for answers.”

“His story could be real?” Joyce asks, stuck on that point. “The monsters and the other dimension. Those could all be real. And still a problem?”

“It’s possible.”

Joyce frowns, takes a deep breath, and passes the evidence bag back to Hopper. “I’m coming with you,” she says.

“What?”

“If that place is real, if those things are real, they could hurt my son again. I won’t let them. So, come get me after you talk to Steve, and we’ll figure out our next steps.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Hopper says, frowning as he rests his hands on his hips. “This could be dangerous.”

“Are you implying I can’t take care of myself? If it’s for my son, Hopper, I would fight the entire world and win. Don’t think I won’t fight you if I find out you left me behind.”

Hopper can’t help a slightly amused smile as he holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay,” he says, nodding once. “I won’t leave you out.”

Joyce nods once, her shoulders relaxing some. “Good,” she says, “and lucky for you, I happen to know where Steve will be this weekend.”

Chapter Text

Max hates being wrong. Being wrong means the person who was right now gets to hold it over her; the person who was right can rub salt in the wound however they like. Sometimes, the person who was right even punishes her for being wrong.

So. Yeah. Max hates being wrong.

Unless El is the one who's right. At the end of the day, when Max begrudgingly admits that El’s other friends aren’t total dweebs, she braces herself for whatever comes next, but nothing does. El just smiles at her again, the smile that makes her feel overly aware of herself, makes her wonder if one wrong twitch of her arm might make the smile go away, and says she’s glad.

And that was it. That was the end of it. Max was wrong, El was right, and nothing. It was so weird that Max was silent most of the ride home. Other than the occasional kick of her foot to maintain momentum and El’s wheels turning over gravel, neither of them make a sound.

It’s not until they get to the trailer park and come to a stop between their two homes that she realizes neither of them spoke a word. Anxiety creeps up her spine, stretching along her nerves as she glances at El. Before she can say anything (and Max doesn’t even know what she would say), El meets her eyes, tilts her head, and asks, “Would you…like to come inside?”

That anxiety fades. “Yeah, sure,” she says, picking up her skateboard and following El over to her trailer. She waits patiently as El once again goes through the process of locking her bike to something cemented into the ground. “You got movies?”

“Yes, but most of them are Steve’s.”

“What, does that mean they’re boring?”

El considers the question as she leads Max up the steps to the front door. “No,” she finally says, opening the door to let her inside. The living room and kitchen are empty, which means they’ll be by themselves until Eddie or Wayne get home. “They are scary.”

Max pauses, glancing at El and then at the small pile of VHS tapes she can see piled by the TV. Even from here, she can see that most of the boxes have that wiggly, blood-like ooze font to display the movie’s name. She tries to imagine the kind of guy who would be friends with El’s brother, who is apparently in a heavy metal band, and would like scary movies.

She comes up with someone that probably screams trouble. They must be the kind of person who laughs when someone dies in the movie, the kind that’s disappointed when the monsters don’t tear their victims apart enough. Max doesn’t think he’d be mean, though. Maybe he’s just…weird, an outcast.

“If we are going to watch a movie,” El says, pulling Max from her thoughts as she shuts the door and carefully locks it, “we will have to complete our homework at the coffee table.” She taps the lock three times, confirming to herself that it’s secure, before walking further into the living room and setting her backpack on the couch.

Max’s nose scrunches slightly in disgust as she follows. “Seriously? Homework?” she asks.

“Yes,” El says. If her tone weren’t so flat, Max thinks it would imply that much should be obvious. “Wayne says I should do my homework each day, so I do not fall behind.”

“Parents are supposed to say that,” Max tells her, plopping onto the floor by the coffee table. “Kids aren’t supposed to actually listen to them.”

“But Wayne is nice, and I want to listen to him.”

Max’s nose somehow gets even more scrunched and she frowns. “Why?”

El thinks for a moment, her hands pausing in their search of her backpack for her homework. “Because,” she says slowly, “even if I do not listen, Wayne does not punish me like Papa did. He is very nice, he buys me apple juice, and he does not yell or throw things when I do something wrong. So, I want to listen to him.”

She doesn’t even seem to realize it, but El has rendered any argument Max could make useless. How is she supposed to respond to that anyway? Oh, sorry your previous dad was an asshole, but I think you should still do this thing that might make Wayne mad enough to hurt you like your dad did. Yeah, it wouldn’t go over well.

Max sighs, jerks her bag into her lap, and starts pulling out her homework. “Fine,” she mutters, glancing up to see El smiling again. All the frustration just melts out of her, and she sighs softly. “I might…need some help.”

Her words are soft, and she almost hopes El doesn’t hear them at all. But she does, and El simply nods like this isn’t an embarrassing admission on Max’s part. “Of course. We can ask each other questions,” she says. A few beats of silence pass, and then she asks, “What movie would you like to watch?”

“Just put on anything,” Max says. She’s not the biggest fan of horror, but she can ignore any noise like a pro. She stares at some geography homework, trying to match the shapes to state names as El gets up and walks over to the TV. She’s only written in three (California, Nevada, and Texas) by the time she hears the movie start playing.

“I chose Dracula,” El says. When she sits down again, she’s much closer to Max than before, their knees almost touching under the coffee table. Max glances down, wondering if she’s imagining the warmth of El’s knee and if that’s weird. “Steve says it is a good introductory movie.”

“Intro-what?”

“A movie that gets someone used to the genre,” El says, the words slow like she’s remembering them as she speaks. They don’t sound like something she’d usually say, and Max figures that’s because they’re Steve’s to begin with. “Anyway, it is good.”

“Right,” Max says, licking her lips nervously before sighing and moving her blank map so El can see. “I don’t know any of these.”

And it’s simple after that. El points to and names the states she does know, they take educated guesses at a few others, and eventually El starts digging around in a pile of books and magazines until she finds an encyclopedia with a map of the country. Half of the movie has passed by the time they’re done with the map, and Max is just about to relax when El starts to focus on her own homework.

A low simmer of guilt builds in her stomach. If she hadn’t asked for help, El might have been done by now. Maybe Max would’ve still been struggling, but she’s perfectly used to struggling on her own and eventually giving up. Before she can think better of it, Max’s knee is bouncing and she’s blurting out, “Sorry for making you do all that.”

“What do you mean?” El asks, pausing in the middle of a math question with an answer that’s taking up nearly half the page.

“Like, telling me the states and stuff. I could’ve figured it out on my own.”

El stares at her for a few seconds that seem to stretch into an eternity. She doesn’t blink, Max doesn’t breathe, and Dracula is leaning over Lucy on the TV. “It helped me, too,” El finally says, “because I have that homework as well. So, helping you means it will be easier for me because we worked on it together.”

“Oh,” Max mumbles, not sure what to say to that.

She’s saved from figuring anything out by a sudden thump on the front door. Max jolts, her heart skipping a few beats as she looks at the door. She can barely make out someone laughing, another person talking, and the fumble of keys in a lock. “That is Eddie and Steve,” El says casually, turning back to her homework.

Max doesn’t look away from the door, though, because the talking has turned into muffled crooning, as ridiculous as that sounds. It sounds similar to Max’s third grade teacher’s boyfriend. He’d visited her once while Max’s class was at lunch, but Max had gone to use the bathroom and passed by the classroom. She’d seen a strange man smiling at her teacher, his voice coaxing and sweet and making her usually stern teacher giggle.

And the muffled talking sounds almost exactly like that. It definitely isn’t Steve and Eddie. Whoever Eddie is talking to, he must be gone on her, especially if she’s laughing like that.

The door finally unlocks and cracks open, and Max stares with wide eyes as two boys practically fall through it. The shorter one (but barely, maybe no more than an inch shorter) is wearing a varsity jacket and stumbling over his feet as he walks backwards. His arms are looped around the taller boy’s neck, and he’s still laughing. The taller boy, meanwhile, has layered a vest over a leather jacket, has untamed hair, and looks at the shorter boy with eyes that make Max feel like she’s intruding on something by watching them.

Both boys’ clothes are slightly rumpled, almost like they’d been running or something before getting to the trailer, and she only now realizes that the taller boy’s hands (he has a lot of chunky rings, and Max almost wants to take one for herself) are resting on the other’s waist, keeping him from actually falling. They haven’t seemed to notice Max or El yet, and the taller boy uses his foot to kick the door shut.

“C’mon, Eds,” the shorter one says, his grin obvious even without looking, “there’s no way the Wolfman would win that fight.”

“He’d be like a dog with a chew toy, Stevie!”

“But it’s the Blob. All it’s gotta do is just wrap itself around the Wolfman’s head and suffocate it. Or drown it? Either way, the Blob wins, no questions asked.”

“Oh, I have a lot of questions.”

The way he says it makes Max think the questions aren’t at all related to the Blob or the Wolfman. Before the shorter boy can respond to that, El calmly says, “Steve, we are watching Dracula. Would you and Eddie like to join us?”

Steve and Eddie jerk apart, finally noticing Max and El in the room. They glance at each other, a whole conversation held in that one look. It is, apparently, a conversation that Eddie loses, because he sighs as Steve grins. “How far are you?” Steve asks, kicking off his shoes before collapsing onto the couch.

“Over half,” El says, acting like all of this is normal while Eddie joins Steve on the couch, sitting close enough that their sides are pressed together. “This is Max, by the way.”

Max stiffens at being thrown into the conversation, glancing at Steve and Eddie. “Oh, so this is Max. About time you brought her over,” Eddie says, grinning as he leans forward and reaches out to ruffle El’s hair.

Before his fingers can touch her head, Steve snatches his hand and pulls it back. “You just had pizza, Eddie,” he says, frowning slightly. “Don’t--”

“Get El’s hair oily. Yeah, Stevie, I know,” Eddie says, his voice more fond than anything else as he turns back to Max. “Anyway, nice to meetcha.”

Steve smiles at her, about to say something when a scream comes from the TV and his attention immediately diverts to it. His eyes are bright and he’s leaning forward slightly, apparently unaware that he’s still holding Eddie’s hand. Since he’s apparently out of commission, Eddie introduces them, “I’m El’s brother, Eddie, and this is Steve, my friend.”

“Your friend,” Max says, her voice soft as she glances at their hands and then at their shoes falling over each other by the door.

“Yep,” Eddie says, looking particularly proud of himself as he adds, “My best friend.”

Next to him, Steve snorts and playfully bumps their shoulders together.

It’s weird, but it’s also normal. El has already gone back to her homework, used to this kind of thing and thinking nothing of it. Max hesitates for a second before following her lead, relaxing before she knows it. The rest of the movie is filled with commentary from Steve, jokes from Eddie, and El occasionally asking Max to check her math.

Max thinks it’s the best time she’s had in a very long time.

“Where have you been?”

Max freezes in the doorway, the door shutting behind her with a near-deafening click. She looks at Billy, taking in his relaxed shoulders and the beer in his hand, and relaxes some herself. It’s not an angry question. “With a friend,” she says, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag by the door.

“Didn’t know you had those.”

Instead of responding to that, Max searches every corner of her mind for something else to say. She’s practically grasping at straws before she remembers Billy saying he had a date. “How did it go?” she asks, “With, uh, that girl.”

It’s the right thing to ask, because Billy’s expression turns into a smug grin, his chest puffing out slightly with pride. “I’ve got her wrapped around my finger,” he says. And then, before Max can say anything else, he adds (more to himself, she thinks), “I’ll have Harrington at rock bottom in no time, thanks to her.”

Max decides very quickly that she doesn’t want to hear more. She nods, says she’s going to bed, and forces herself to walk calmly to her room. Once her door is shut, shielding her from the rest of the trailer and Billy, she finally relaxes. She’s only been gone for a few minutes, but she already misses El…her trailer, that is. She misses the calm and warm normalcy of being in the trailer and watching movies without worrying about saying something wrong.

That’s all she misses.

Maybe if she says it to herself enough times, it will actually be true.

Chapter Text

Over the past year, Gareth’s garage has been transformed. It isn’t a major change, but it is a significant one. Now, perpendicular to the couch is a desk covered with blank sheet music, scribbled notes, and pencils. Next to the desk is Steve’s keyboard, an extra one he bought to keep in Eddie’s van so his could stay at home.

Steve likes practice, and he likes this desk. Gareth had dragged it in from his room, claiming it didn’t get used anyway, so it’ll be better here. Just sitting at it makes Steve’s mind slow down, everything quieting for the few hours he spends in the garage. Even the clamor of instruments and sour notes just bounces off him instead of burrowing in his ears.

Steve is hunched over at that desk now, idly tapping the eraser of his pencil against the wood as he stares at notes scattered across a bar. None of them sound right, and they don’t actually fit any lyrics the guys have written, but Steve can’t get them out of his head. He huffs angrily, about to scribble them out when hands land on his shoulders and start to rub away the tension.

“You look like a shrimp, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his voice low as he gently leads Steve to sit up straight. Steve winces at the twinge in his back that follows, forcing his shoulders to relax as Eddie’s thumbs dig between them. He sighs, letting his head fall back against Eddie’s stomach. “You should take a break.”

“Is it my kind of break or yours?” Steve asks, his eyes slipping shut.

“Please be Steve’s kind of break,” Gareth says, sounding disgusted already from his spot on the couch. He doesn’t actually care about Steve and Eddie dating, he just hates seeing PDA. It makes him uncomfortable, and he’d once explained it to Steve as his brain trying to process the need while imagining it happening to himself and making his skin crawl.

“Just for that,” Eddie says before leaning down and kissing Steve. It’s awkward, and Eddie’s chin bumps into Steve’s nose, but it makes him dissolve into laughter.

“Seriously, though.” Jeff says, his words accompanied by the steady strum of his guitar, “Are we taking a break? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Dude, just go,” Asher tells him, waving toward the door that leads into the house.

Steve opens his eyes to watch Jeff kick Asher before getting up. “What had you frowning, fair maiden?” Eddie asks, his last words an obnoxious drawl that makes Steve snort.

He holds the sheet music up to Eddie. “This. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just…it keeps echoing in my head,” he says.

As Eddie takes the paper, Steve turns to his piano and taps a few keys. He doesn’t need the paper to recreate the notes that sound disjointed but not out of place at a metal band practice. He couldn’t forget them if he tried; they bounce too insistently around his head.

“It needs a guitar,” Eddie says, placing the paper down before grabbing his baby. He tugs the pick off his neck, taking one more look at the sheet before slowly strumming out the notes. They sound better, but it’s still not right.

“Play them faster.”

Eddie obliges, frowning slightly as he picks up the tempo. Without Steve saying another word, he speeds up some more. It’s better, and Steve figures that’s as good as it gets for now. “This would make a sick guitar solo when it’s done,” Eddie says, grinning as he starts playing around with the notes, rearranging them and choosing different chords just to see how it sounds.

“Yeah, I still don’t know what it’s for, though.”

“Just keep it in your back pocket, sweetheart,” Eddie says, turning to lean against the desk while facing Steve. “Never know when it might come in handy.”

“Hate to interrupt,” Asher says, his frown audible, “but we’ve got some company here.”

Steve leans around Eddie just in time to watch a cop car pull next to the van in the driveway. He frowns as Chief Hopper climbs out, adjusting his belt before walking over to the open garage. Thankfully, he stops before he can actually step inside, his gaze landing on Steve.

“Harrington,” he says, “I’ve got a few questions for you.”

Steve frowns, glancing at Eddie before standing and walking over to Chief Hopper. Eddie is just a step behind him after placing his guitar down, hovering close but holding himself back from touching Steve. “What’s this about?” Steve asks.

“I realized the department’s investigation into your disappearance was missing a few things. Like your testimony.”

Whatever tension Eddie had managed to massage away comes rushing back, collecting in Steve’s shoulders and at the nape of his neck. He frowns, glancing over his shoulder to see Asher and Gareth quickly vacating the garage. Steve can’t blame them; they seem happy to just pretend the whole thing didn’t happen.

“It’s been a year,” Eddie says, moving to stand next to Steve. In the next moment, he’s slightly in front of Steve, too. It’s not an obvious motion, but it’s one he appreciates nonetheless. “Aren’t you a little late to start giving a shit.”

“Eds.”

“No, no,” Hopper says, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair. “Munson is right. It’s a serious problem that nobody has questioned you sooner, Steve.”

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?” Steve asks.

“I’m afraid I have to insist.”

Steve frowns, moving slightly until he’s sure his right hand is hidden behind Eddie. He then uses it to hook his finger through the belt loop at the back of Eddie’s jeans, needing something to make him feel grounded since Dart isn’t there. He doesn’t want to think about everything again, and he definitely doesn’t want to explain it to some adult that won’t actually believe him.

What was the story the press settled on? He and Will being kidnapped? Steve meets Hopper’s gaze and says, “We were kidnapped. There isn’t much more than that.”

“I’ve got reason to believe the…person who kidnapped you is still a threat to your safety.”

It takes everything in Steve to not laugh at him. The thing that kidnapped him was a monster from another dimension, and now creatures from that dimension are just hanging out in the back of his mind. Steve’s safety was forever compromised the moment he and Will fell through. “I doubt that,” he says.

“And why is that?”

“Because,” Steve frowns, nervously licks his lips, and takes a deep breath.

Time to lie.

He glances away from Hopper, makes it look like he’s gathering himself to say something that scares him, and has a faint wobble in his voice as he says, “Because I…I took care of him.”

“You…took care of him?”

Thankfully, Eddie catches onto Steve’s lie almost immediately. “Are you seriously gonna make Stevie spell it out for you?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the cop, here, put two and two together, man. How else would Stevie have had all those injuries?”

“Watch the tone, Munson,” Hopper warns.

“He’s right,” Steve says, jumping in before Eddie can talk himself into a night at the jail. “I don’t want to get into it, okay? My nightmares are bad enough with the one-year anniversary coming up. I’d rather not think about it.”

Hopper sighs, hands resting on his belt as he seems to consider. He looks between Steve and Eddie, his gaze lingering on the spot where Eddie is covering some of Steve’s body. After a few seconds he nods. “I get it,” he says, “I really do, but I need something to work with here. If you don’t wanna talk about it, just tell me where it all happened.”

For a brief moment, Steve is tempted to tell the truth. It all went down in an alternate dimension with monsters. He doesn’t, but he’s amused by the thought nonetheless. Instead, he stubbornly sets his jaw, noticing a spark of confusion and recognition in Hopper’s eyes. “He took me by surprise in the woods. Next thing I knew, Will and I had been taken. We were in a house and planned an escape, but got caught, so I had to fight. He had a knife, I had a bat, and I barely won. Eddie found us in the woods after we escaped, and you know the rest.”

“That’s really all you can tell me?”

Steve nods once, slightly distracted by the sudden tugging at the back of his mind. He glances off to the side, seeing a bush shift and barely holding back an exasperated but fond sigh. Dart is hiding, impatiently waiting while sending Steve thoughts of chocolate and feelings of boredom. It wouldn’t be nearly this bad if Dart could listen to the band practice, but Hopper’s presence doesn’t help with that.

“Okay,” Hopper says, sounding resigned as he nods once. “I’ll see what I can do with that, and I’ll let you know if we need to bring you in for an official testimony.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, glancing over at the same bush Dart is hiding in and looking tempted to walk over before shaking his head. “Well, if you need anything, you know the number. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

He nods to them before heading back to his car. Steve watches as he turns the car on and pulls out of the driveway, waiting for Hopper to be out of sight before exhaling. “What the fuck was that?” he asks, letting go of Eddie’s belt loop so he can turn around.

“It was weird,” Eddie says. “Think something really happened?”

“No, I would’ve felt it. Or Dart would’ve told me. Maybe a case in another town sounds similar?”

“You were pretty vague there, sweetheart. Any case would sound similar.”

Steve hums softly, glancing at the bush again and huffing softly when he sees a tail poking out. “Go get your son and put him in the van,” he says, nudging Eddie toward the bushes.

“Oh, so he’s my son now? What happened to him being our son?” Eddie asks, his grin betraying his amusement.

“He’s your son when he’s impatient or in trouble. You’re the one he gets it from.”

“Last I checked, you gave birth all on your own, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his voice low as he waggles his eyebrows and leans closer.

Steve snorts and pushes Eddie’s face away, watching with a fond smile as Eddie begins the process of wrestling Dart into the van before any of the guys return to the garage.

Chapter Text

Hopper calls Joyce on Sunday morning, and it’s only once the phone has started ringing that he realizes he could be waking her up on the one day she gets to sleep in. He feels bad about it, and that feeling gets a little stronger when the phone is picked up and Joyce’s sleep-addled voice says, “Byers home.”

“Joyce, it’s Hopper.”

A beat of silence passes, and Hopper can see Joyce’s frown as she looks at the clock in the hallway. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

Joyce sighs. “Well, I’m up anyway, why are you calling so early?” she asks, a slight jostle of the phone telling Hopper that she’s now leaning against the wall, cradling the phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“I talked to Steve yesterday,” Hopper says, looking out the window of his home and watching a tree’s branches sway in the breeze. “Something doesn’t add up.”

“He didn’t talk to you?”

“No, he did, but I’m pretty sure he lied. And whatever actually happened, Munson knows.”

“Of course. He and Steve are best friends, everyone knows that. Besides, he’s the one who found them,” Joyce says, a quiet yawn following her words, and Hopper wonders if she’s going right back to bed when this phone call is over.

“No,” Hopper says, “The way he was standing in front of Steve and how defensive he was tells me he knows more than he’s letting on.”

“Well, what did Steve tell you?”

“He got taken by surprise and that’s why they were kidnapped. He tried escaping, got caught, and had to defend himself and Will. Somewhere in all that, he heavily implied that he killed the kidnapper, which is where his injuries came from. He got Will out of the house, and then they were found in the woods by Munson.”

“Did they say anything about why Barb was with Eddie at the time?”

Hopper blinks, looking away from the window with a frown. Now that he’s thinking about it, her role in everything had completely slipped his mind. She’s been so silent on the matter; even when police got her statement, she didn’t speak more than three sentences: “I was with Eddie Munson and his sister. We found Steve and Will in the woods. Steve passed out, so we brought them to the hospital.”

And that was it. No mention of why Steve passed out, and no mention of how Eddie’s sister passed out, too. How did none of them catch that? How did his men hear that story and decide it wasn’t worth following up?

“They didn’t mention it,” Hopper says, wondering if he can swing by the Holland home to question Barb about her part in everything. “I should---”

“Don’t bother,” Joyce says, her voice soft enough that Hopper has to immediately stop talking so he can hear her. “If Will’s story is true, about the other dimension and monsters, then it’s no wonder they’re lying. Who would believe them? If anything, we’ve failed them as adults by not realizing something was wrong sooner.”

Hopper doesn’t like thinking that he’s failed, but he can’t argue with her logic. Will only told the truth because he’s young, Steve likely hadn’t warned him about not being believed, and he trusted his mother to take his word for it. Everyone else, though? Hopper should have seen the signs that things weren’t adding up. His entire career is built on that sort of thing.

“Okay,” he says, nodding even though Joyce can’t see him. “In that case, we should take care of this tunnel quietly. No need to make them remember whatever happened. The sooner we do, the sooner we can all move past this.”

“How are we supposed to take care of it, Hopper? It’s an inter-dimensional tunnel,” Joyce says.

“They’re plants, Joyce. We can burn them and whatever else is in those tunnels.”

“What, you just have access to a blowtorch?”

“It’s nothing a little accelerant and a lighter can’t do.”

“Fair. When do you want to do this?”

“Tonight. The fewer eyes on this the better. We should just be able to get in and out.”

He hears a quiet sigh on the other line. “Jonathan should be able to watch Will for a few hou--one second, Hopper.”

Hopper blinks, listening as Joyce’s voice becomes muffled like she’s placed her hand over the phone. It doesn’t do much to cover her words, so he can still hear when she greets Will good morning and asks how he slept. He can’t hear Will’s response, but he does hear a quiet laugh from Joyce before she tells him to get some more sleep.

A few more seconds pass before Joyce sighs and her voice comes through clearly on the phone again. “Sorry about that. Will and Jonathan had a movie marathon last night and fell asleep in the living room. Will just woke up, apparently.”

“No problem,” Hopper says. “I’ll let you go, but I’ll swing by yours to pick you up around eight. That work?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Joyce hangs up after they’ve said goodbye, and Hopper listens to the dial tone for a few seconds. When he finally puts the phone back on the hook, he sighs and tries to figure out what to do with his day before torching an inter-dimensional tunnel.

Despite his mother’s insistence, Will doesn’t go back to sleep. He’d just woken up from a nightmare; the exaggerated sight of Steve being dwarfed by the demogorgon followed by Steve spread-eagle on the ground, blood oozing from his sides and not moving an inch is branded to the backs of his eyelids. So, yeah, he doesn’t want to go back to sleep.

Besides, he still needs to tell Steve about what his mom and Hopper were discussing. He’d listened in before he got caught, hiding behind a corner to hear the rest of their plan that involved blowtorches and inter-dimensional tunnels.

And, of course, the realization that nobody actually believed him. At least, none of the adults. They all seemed to desperately cling to the idea that Will’s story is some trauma-induced hallucination. He gets it, of course; he probably wouldn’t have easily believed a story about other dimensions and monsters, but…but he’s still disappointed that his mother and Hopper only came around because of another threat.

Will frowns, rolls over, and reaches under his bed. He feels around for a few seconds before his fingers brush against his walkie-talkie and he pulls it out. If he wants to tell Steve without his mother or brother knowing, he’ll have to radio him.

He switches the walkie-talkie on, making sure it’s tuned to the channel he and his friends (and now Steve and Eddie) use. “Sound off, over,” he says, his voice quiet as he pulls his knees to his chest. “I repeat, sound off. Especially Steve, over.”

A few seconds pass in which Will stares at the walkie-talkie, his anxiety building as it remains silent. And then, finally, Mike’s familiar voice comes through. “Mike sounding off. Over,” he says, completely unaware that Will finds himself relaxing at just the sound of him.

Soon after, Dustin and Lucas pipe in as well. A few more seconds pass without any answer from Steve, so Will brings the walkie closer and says, “Steve. Or Eddie, if you’re together right now. Please sound off. Over.”

Another beat of silence, and then Will frowns as he hears El’s voice coming through. “Eddie and Steve are hanging out today. They are not home, but I am an--” Her voice cuts off, a muffle coming through like she’s dropped her walkie. A few seconds later, El says, “Apologies. I am home. Will, what is the problem? Over.”

“El, have you felt anything weird with the Upside Down lately? Over.” Will licks his lips nervously, hoping she’ll say everything is perfectly fine, actually.

“It feels…closer than normal, but I assumed that was because of Steve. Is it not? Over.”

“Hopper found tunnels,” Will says, shifting until he’s curled up under his blanket and has the walkie-talkie resting on the bed next to him. “Upside Down tunnels, and I think he’s taking my mom to set them on fire tonight. Over.”

“Woah, woah,” Dustin says, jumping in before anyone else can even think of what they might say, “What do you mean tunnels?”

“You did not say over,” El says, “Over.”

“I think it was implied. Over,” Lucas says.

“Can we get back to the question?” Mike asks. “Over.”

Will can’t help a slight smile, the rest of his tension draining from his shoulders. “I don’t know the whole story, but I think Hopper found them a few days ago. He asked me about what happened, and then he asked Steve, and then he called my mom. They were talking about interdimensional tunnels and blowtorches. I’m not sure what else it could be. Over.”

“They don’t know what they’re walking into. Over,” Lucas says, his frown audible.

“Lucas is right,” El says, more muffled sounds coming from her end like she’s moving around. “They could get very hurt. We should accompany them. Over.”

“They’re not gonna let us go with them,” Dustin says, and Will can hear the plan he’s forming as he speaks. “They think we’re too weak to be any help, I bet. Plus, they’re adults. They’ll just tell us they got it and that we should go home. Over.”

“So, what?” Mike asks. “Do we just tell Steve when he’s back, whenever that is, and hope he takes care of it? He’s already flaked out for the day. We can’t rely on him. Over.”

Will bristles, frowning at Mike’s tone and holding his walkie-talkie tighter. Before he can think about it, he finds himself saying, “Steve didn’t flake. He didn’t know this would happen. It’s not fair to be upset just because he’s not sitting around waiting for us to need him. Over.”

“I agree with Will,” El says, “Eddie has been planning this day with Steve for nearly a week. It is not sudden. Also, if we managed to contact them, Steve would drop everything to help us. He does not flake. Over.”

A few beats of silence pass before Lucas chimes in, “Damn, I think y’all killed Mike. Over.”

“I’m not dead,” Mike hisses, his frustration obvious, but Will can’t find it in himself to feel bad about causing that emotion. Though he’d never admit it to Jonathan, Steve is like the big brother he never had. Steve makes time for him, he protects Will, he listens to his worries and soothes them, and…well, Steve is like him. He can’t stand the thought of anyone insulting or misunderstanding just how good Steve is, even if that person is Mike.

“Anyway,” Dustin says, getting them back on track, “We should follow Will’s mom and Hopper on our bikes. Once they’ve gone into the tunnels, we can jump after them and keep them safe. El can warn us if any monsters get close and close the tunnel if it’s actually a gate. Over.”

“It is like a very long gate, yes. It connects the Demiplane to our world, but I do not know its purpose. Over,” El says.

“Great, so El can close it. Over,” Mike says.

“Where should we meet up?” Lucas asks. “At Will’s house? Over.”

“Jonathan is planning to sneak out tonight,” Will says, almost laughing when he hears Mike say that Nancy is, too, and it’s gross that their siblings seem to be dating. “My place will be the best to meet up. Over.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dustin says. “I’ll get supplies ready. Over and out.”

Before Will can even ask what kind of supplies he’s talking about, everyone else is signing off as well. After a few seconds, Will is left alone with the walkie-talkie in his hand, utterly silent. He sighs, puts it on his nightstand, digs under his pillow, and pulls out a paperback about giant spiders that Steve lent him last week.

He has to kill time somehow.

Chapter Text

After an incredible amount of practice, Steve is an expert at falling asleep while heavy metal is blasting from Eddie’s stereo. He usually tries not to, but when Eddie drags him out of his bed at eight in the morning on a Sunday, he’s entitled to a little nap until they get wherever they’re going.

It’s a good nap, too, even if it is only an hour long. Whenever he sleeps near Eddie, Steve doesn’t get nightmares. His sleep is blissfully dreamless and refreshing, which has resulted in more sleepovers than he can count. Something about Eddie just makes his brain calm down.

Steve is pulled out of his nap by fingers trailing against his inner-wrist, brushing over his veins and tickling his skin. He scrunches his nose slightly and grabs Eddie’s hand, twining their fingers together as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and meets his boyfriend’s excited smile. “Where are we?” he asks, his voice rough as Eddie squeezes his hand.

“Few towns over. We’ve got the whole day ahead of us, too,” Eddie promises. “And it starts here.”

Steve follows Eddie’s gesture to the building they’re parked in front of. It’s two stories with a hand-painted sign hanging above the door that reads Bibliophiles’ Budget Books in a neat cursive. The front of the building is all windows, allowing Steve to see the seemingly endless bookcases inside that are practically bursting. There are smaller windows on the second story, big enough to offer natural light but not so big as to be seen through from the sidewalk.

“A bookstore?” Steve asks, glancing at Eddie with a confused frown. “We have these in Hawkins.”

“Yeah, sure, but not this one,” Eddie says, his grin getting even more excited. “Just trust me, sweetheart, you’re gonna love this one.”

Steve holds his gaze for a few seconds before nodding, smiling fondly when Eddie lights up and practically throws himself out of the van. He waits patiently, watching Eddie slide around the front of the van to reach the passenger door. His hair is in slight disarray when he opens the door, offering a hand to Steve. “My liege,” he says.

With a snort, Steve takes his hand and hops out of the van, glancing around to see the street totally empty, which makes sense considering it’s a Sunday morning. After confirming there are no witnesses, he leans closer to Eddie and squeezes his hand. “How chivalrous of you, good sir,” he says, his voice low in the way he knows makes Eddie’s knees weak when paired with him playing along.

A blush crawls up Eddie’s cheeks, reaching for his ears as Steve lets go of his hand and gestures to the bookstore. “Go on, Eds, lead the way.”

“Right. Right! The way, that I’m leading,” Eddie says, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. “Into the bookstore. Because that’s where we’re going.”

Steve follows with what he’s sure is a goofy smile, but he can’t help it. Flustering Eddie is fun, and the warm feeling that spreads through him like honey when he makes Eddie blush is addictive. And, well, Eddie is goofy, too, easily making Steve laugh like he was born for it.

A bell chimes above them as they walk through the door, the smell of old paper and vanilla-scented candles washing over him. Bookshelves line a narrow walkway that leads straight to an empty cashier desk. A quick glance tells Steve these books are all recent releases, and he looks at Eddie over his shoulder.

“Am I just supposed to wander?” he asks.

“Nope, follow me, Stevie.”

With that, Eddie slips around Steve, confidently walking around the cashier desk to the back of the store. Steve finds himself wondering how many times, exactly, Eddie has been here to know where he’s going, but he doesn’t ask. He just follows Eddie, looking over the packed shelves as they go. Many of them are labeled as used books with only a few holding new ones.

The bookshelves create a maze that makes Steve’s head spin, a slight frown tugging at his lips as the overwhelming worry that he’ll get lost in here overtakes him. He reaches out and hooks his finger through one of the chains hanging from Eddie’s jeans, feeling himself settle now that they’re tethered.

“I wouldn’t let you get lost,” Eddie says, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Steve before looking down at the chain.

Steve shrugs, tugging on it playfully. “I feel better like this,” he says, watching as Eddie’s smile grows wider. “This place is pretty empty.”

“It’s technically not open on Sundays.”

“But the door wasn’t locked.”

Eddie nods, coming to a stop at a set of stairs. He turns to look at Steve, grabs his hips, and tugs him closer. Steve’s eyes widen, and he looks over his shoulder, panicked, only to hear Eddie say, “We’re the only ones here.”

“How?”

“I know the owner,” Eddie says. Then he pauses, tilts his head, and corrects himself. “Well, I know the owner’s brother. Because I’m his dealer. And I promised to discount his next few orders if he’d convince his sister to give us a few hours here today.”

“So, it’s just us?” Steve asks, hesitantly placing his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. When Eddie nods, he licks his lips and asks, “And how long do we have here?”

“About four hours. I tried to get more, but his sister said it would waste electricity otherwise.”

“Do we really need four hours in a bookstore?”

Eddie grins wide, leaning in closer until their noses are brushing. “Trust me, Stevie. You’re gonna think it’s not enough,” he promises.

Steve doesn’t quite believe him, but he nods and closes the distance between them, pressing a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips. When he pulls away, Eddie chases, sealing their lips together again as he pulls Steve flush against him. Steve tenses, his instincts shouting that they shouldn’t be making out in public, only to relax when he hears Eddie hum softly into the kiss. It’s a ballad he’s been working on, but he refuses to share the lyrics until it’s done.

Steve pulls back from the kiss and looks up at Eddie. “C’mon, Eds, what’s gonna keep us entertained for four hours?” he asks.

“This. Easily,” Eddie says, kissing Steve again.

Steve laughs and pulls away, gently flicking Eddie’s forehead. “I wanna see,” he says.

Eddie sighs, grabs Steve’s hand, and brings it to his lips. He kisses Steve’s palm before saying, “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.” With that, he tugs Steve up the stairs.

The second floor is significantly smaller than the first. The walls are lined with bookshelves. Even the space under the windows is dedicated to smaller shelves that still can’t hold all the books in the room. They’re squeezed together and then stacked on top of each other. Paperbacks and hardbacks are fighting for space, the shelves they rest on warped and threatening to crack under their weight.

In the middle of the room is a sitting area. There are couches and loveseats and armchairs scattered around with tables next to them. Even a rocking chair is sitting among them, a pillow on the seat and a blanket thrown over the back. Beneath the seating are several rugs of different sizes, all of them looking soft to lay on.

Eddie turns to face Steve, an excited grin on his face as he gestures to the right side of the room. “That side is all fantasy and science fiction,” he says. Then he grabs Steve’s shoulders, turns him to the left side of the room, and says, “And this side is all horror.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer number of books once more. “Seriously?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. “And you only got four hours?”

“I told you it wouldn’t feel like enough,” Eddie says, leaning in and hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “You can take home as many as you can carry, by the way. All the used ones are only five cents.”

The first comprehensible thought he has is that he loves Eddie.

Steve loves Eddie.

Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson.

The realization leaves him breathless as he stares at the crammed bookshelves. He knew he liked Eddie. How could he not? But…but realizing he loves him is something…so much more. He can’t say it, right? Because it’s a lot; it’s a lot to spring on someone in the middle of a bookstore and while they’re still in high school.

He needs to do something with this energy, though, with this incredible realization that makes his body buzz. So, Steve turns around, takes Eddie’s face in his hands, and kisses him, licking against the seam of his lips. Eddie gets with the program immediately, opening up and wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. He hums happily as their tongues slide together, pushing a hand into Steve’s hair and curling his fingers around the strands.

Pushing closer, Steve hooks an arm around Eddie’s neck, his other hand resting on Eddie’s chest and feeling how fast his heart is racing. He feels light and happy, like he wants to take this moment and carefully tuck it into his pocket to keep safe and look at whenever he wants.

And then it’s over. Eddie hums again and pulls back, grinning at Steve. “You only got four hours, baby,” he says, his voice light and teasing.

“Where are we going when the four hours are up?” he asks, still pressed close so he can continue feeling Eddie’s heart against his palm.

“Lunch at a killer pizza place, a special showing of Night of the Living Dead, and then back to Hawkins for a little fun at your place.”

Steve laughs softly, presses one last kiss to Eddie’s lips, and pulls away. “Sounds good. You’re helping me carry books, by the way,” he says, stepping backwards toward the shelves.

“Figured I was.”

With a grin, Steve turns on his heel and starts inspecting every book, pulling down whatever he hasn’t read or wants another copy of or looks ridiculous enough that Eddie can laugh at the cover with him.

Chapter Text

As the sun begins to sink on the horizon, Dart slips from the home. He can feel the mother and father getting closer; he can also feel the mother strongly suggesting he vacate the home unless he wants to help lug in a very heavy bag. Beneath that, Dart can feel the mother’s excitement about something more, something that makes him eager to run before they arrive.

Dart decides to go visit one of the human siblings. The closest one is Will, and he doesn’t want to be too far from home. He starts through the woods, sticking to the growing shadows. He knows which window is Will’s, so if he scratches at the glass, he’s sure to be let in. And Will is the most familiar feeling of the human siblings---except for El, but that’s different---so Dart feels extra comfortable around him.

The last time he snuck over, Will had let him under the blankets on the bed. Despite preferring the cold, Dart has come to appreciate the comfort of warmth, especially with a human. And when that human starts talking or reading? Dart couldn’t stay awake if he tried.

He’s looking forward to it, looking forward to Will talking more about the campaign thing that involves a bard or something (Dart doesn’t understand that, but he’s a great listener according to the mother), looking forward to Will idly petting his head, looking forward to the soft blankets and softer pillow.

He perks up when Will’s house comes into view, a slight bounce in his step as he trots over to Will’s window. Dart tilts his head, about to try scratching on the glass when he hears Mike’s voice from around the corner hissing, “What the hell is she doing here?!”

Dart moves to the corner, sniffing the air and wondering why all the siblings have gathered. He sticks close to the wall, moving slowly so he can approach the siblings crowded in what the mother calls a garage. They all have bikes, based on the sound of gears turning, and Dart wonders where they’re planning to go.

“Max is our friend,” El says.

“Yeah, sure, fine,” Mike replies, his tone implying that it is not, in fact, fine, and Dart only knows this because he’s heard a similar tone from the mother before. “But why now, El? We’re kind of planning to do things.”

“El already told me.”

This is a new voice, one Dart doesn’t recognize. He tilts his head, focusing on the scent of this new person (dirt like the father and El, but also cheap perfume that makes Dart want to sneeze). She must be Max, and she must be a new sibling, too. Dart perks up at the idea, eager for a bigger family and more siblings that will be sympathetic when the mother scolds him.

“You told her?” Dustin asks.

“Yes. She was with me when we talked.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucas asks, his voice sounding a little strained.

“Because I told her not to,” Max says, and Dart can almost picture the way the mother would be standing if he had that tone: arms crossed, one hip to the side, head angled down slightly like he’s looking at someone particularly foolish. “I figured you guys were hiding something from me.”

“You can’t just tell people, El!” Mike says, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“Why not? They are my powers. I am allowed to tell people about them.”

“What if you tell the wrong person?” Will asks, his voice soft.

There is a beat of silence before El says, “Then I will take care of them.”

“Listen,” Max says, “you guys wanted me to join your little nerd squad, so why are you upset when I do? Hawkins is boring anyway. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened since I got here. Like hell I’m letting you leave me behind.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Lucas says, “Like, you could lose your life kind of dangerous.”

“I would not let that happen,” El replies, pausing for a moment before adding, “To any of you.”

“Gee, thanks for thinking of us,” Dustin mutters.

Dart creeps a little closer, pausing only when he feels the light of the garage on his head. He scoots back a step to stay hidden, but now he can feel the anxiety and nerves practically oozing off his human siblings in waves.

They’re about to do something dangerous. He can tell that much. It’s probably something they don’t want the mother to know about, either. Dart can keep a secret, and he’s much stronger than any of the human siblings (except El, but she’s different), which means he could keep them safe. He would keep them safe anyway, of course, but he likes the added bonus of being praised by the mother for doing so.

“Fine,” Mike says, “whatever, tag along, but don’t wimp out when things get dangerous, Mayfield.”

Max scoffs, turning on her heel and moving closer to El. “Let’s just get going, losers. I wanna see this tunnel you’ve been talking about,” she says.

A tunnel?

Dart tenses, tilting his head as he listens to his siblings get on their bikes and start down the road. He waits a few seconds before following, his worry growing when they start in the direction of the pumpkin patch.

He doesn’t want to worry the mother, so he sends whatever overflows to the other sibling. It doesn’t notice at first, but after a few seconds he gets a curious feeling in return. Dart hesitates, and then he realizes that having his other sibling help protect the human siblings is even better than doing it by himself.

Fuzzy memories of the conversation between the human siblings are sent down their connection, followed by an image of the tunnel entrance in the pumpkin patch, and topped off with a memory of the mother gently saying, “They’re weaker than you, so you’ve gotta be careful when you play, and you have to keep them safe if they get into trouble.” He thinks that should cover all his bases.

A few more seconds pass as his siblings turn down a trail that cuts through the woods to reach the pumpkin patch faster. Dart picks up speed, using the extra cover to run beside the last bike in the line: Will. He’s tempted to growl to get Will’s attention, but he’s experienced enough of the mother’s horror movies to know that’s a bad idea.

He finally gets a response from his sibling, and Dart nearly trips over a root at the dim and shaky memory of hearing adult voices near the entrance to the tunnel.

“This is it?” a woman says.

“Yep, damn near broke my ankle falling down it,” a man replies.

“Well, be careful this time.”

“I’ll go in first. You hand down the accelerant and then get in. I’ll be there to catch you if you slip.”

Dart shakes the memory away, feeling his own worry heightened by that of his sibling’s. It doesn’t know what accelerant is, but the large humans have started pouring something that smells sharp and acrid along the vines.

The memory is quickly followed by a memory of the mother, his hand warm on its head and his voice gentle but firm saying, “You can’t hurt people.” It wants to listen to the mother, but it can’t just sit by and let humans destroy the tunnels while several packs are still in them. The mother might be disappointed in it later, but it needs to be alive in the first place to experience that disappointment.

The logic is sound. Dart can’t argue with it. He also has no clue what to do.

He still has no ideas by the time his human siblings reach the pumpkin patch, abandoning their bikes before hopping the fence. They’re talking about where the tunnel entrance might be, arguing amongst themselves until El points out a light in the distance.

Dart hurries after them, avoiding the rotten pumpkins he bowled through last time he was here. He can’t stop his siblings, but the mother can. It’s with an overwhelming feeling of defeat that he probes at his connection to the mother and pushes through the memory of the kids’ conversation and the location of the pumpkin patch.

The house is blissfully empty when Steve and Eddie get back. So there is nothing to stop them from collapsing on the couch together after dragging in two boxes worth of books. It starts slow, with simple pecks and soft smiles and little jokes about the day.

Then it becomes longer kisses with closed eyes and satisfied sighs.

Finally, it turns into Steve pushing Eddie down and straddling his hips, one hand braced next to Eddie’s head on the arm of the couch. His other hand pushes under Eddie’s shirt, settling on his waist as he kisses along Eddie’s jaw. He travels down with each kiss until he reaches the spot where Eddie’s neck and shoulder meet.

He hums in response to Eddie’s moan when he sucks on the spot, breathing in the smell of weed and Eddie’s shampoo as he drags his tongue over it as well. When Steve is sure the spot is going to bruise, he pulls back just enough to blow, sending cold air over Eddie’s skin.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, jumping at the feeling and tugging on a lock of Steve’s hair.

“That’s the idea,” Steve replies, kissing Eddie’s Adam’s apple before starting a matching hickey on the other side of his neck.

Eddie mutters something about Steve killing him as his fingers push further into Steve’s hair. He tugs on the strands again, sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. “Don’t tug too hard,” he says, lips brushing against Eddie’s skin.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his voice soft and fond and Steve can barely control the urge to just blurt out that he loves him, so he bites down instead.

He feels Eddie jolt and then shudder, idly notes that Eddie liked being surprised by the bite, and soothes the area with his tongue. He hums softly when he pulls away, admiring the bruise he left behind with a satisfied smile.

“Stevie, baby, you’re looking like the cat who caught the canary,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve looks up to meet his eyes.

After a few seconds of hesitating, Steve looks back at the hickies and moves his hand from the arm of the couch to Eddie’s shoulder. He gently brushes his thumb over the hickey, watching Eddie tilt his head to give him better access. “I just…like knowing you’re mine, even if they’re low enough to be hidden.”

Eddie blinks, his grin turning into something soft and sweet. He moves his hand from Steve’s hair to the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “I’m always yours,” he says, the words warm against Steve’s lips.

Suddenly, Steve doesn’t know why he’d bother waiting. It’s not like Eddie wouldn’t say it back. It’s not like he’s the only one that’s ready to commit for real here. It’s a high school relationship, sure, but that doesn’t automatically make it weaker.

Steve swallows around the nerves climbing up his throat, pulls back to look into Eddie’s eyes, and blinks when he’s hit full force by a memory through his connection with Dart. He falters, dropping back down and knocking his forehead into Eddie’s. “Shit,” he mutters, Eddie echoing the sentiment.

He pushes off Eddie, holding his forehead and frowning as he tries to process the memory through Dart’s intense worry and concern and general desperation for help. He hears the kids talking, feels the cold ground beneath him as he huddles around a corner, feels an eagerness to keep his human siblings safe and earn praise from the mother.

Steve grimaces, pushes through the memory once he gets the gist of what happened, and finally gets the smell of pumpkins and fertilized soil and the sound of the kids finding a hole in the ground.

Despite everything, what annoys him the most about this is that the kids aren’t even aware they’re following horror tropes to a T. Seriously? They go out in the dead of night to inspect a pumpkin patch with a tunnel that leads to who knows where and don’t even consider the possibility that a monster or slasher is gonna pop up behind them? Clearly, Steve needs to throw some Horror 101 into his scolding once the kids are safe.

He jerks off the couch, sending reassurances to Dart and telling him to protect the kids as he says to Eddie, “We need to go.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, scrambling to follow after Steve as he walks to the door and roughly yanks his shoes on.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Steve says, grabbing his keys and jacket, “But basically, the kids are in big trouble.”

“With monsters or with you?”

“Both.”

Steve impatiently waits for Eddie to get his shoes on before dragging him out of the house and to his car.

Chapter Text

“This is it?” Joyce asks, frowning as she looks at the hole in the ground. It’s somewhat hidden by pumpkins, but it’s definitely a safety hazard.

“Yep, damn near broke my ankle falling down it,” Hopper replies. He huffs as he sets down their lantern, allowing Joyce to properly see the vines growing from the hole.

She frowns, crouches, and pokes one curiously. It doesn’t do anything in response, but it feels oddly cold. “Well, be careful this time,” she says, looking up to see Hopper tying some rope around a nearby tree. He knots it twice, making sure it’s steady, before throwing the other end into the hole.

Joyce hears it hit the bottom, thankful that the fall doesn’t seem too far.

“I’ll go in first. You toss down the accelerant and then follow. I’ll be there to catch you if you slip,” Hopper says, looking at her and waiting for a nod before grabbing onto the rope and carefully shimmying down.

When he hits solid ground, Hopper pulls out his flashlight and turns it on. He swings the beam around, seeing only vines; they’ve grown since the last time he was here, covering even more of the wall and ground than before. That might make things more difficult, but he’ll catch Joyce if she trips over something.

“Okay,” he says, looking up to see Joyce’s face lit by the lantern he left with her. “Toss down the accelerant.”

She nods and disappears for a second before appearing again with two jugs. Hopper moves the flashlight to his pocket and grunts when he catches the first jug. He sets it down on the ground, puts the second jug next to it when Joyce throws it down, and then moves closer to the rope.

“You know,” Joyce says, clinging to the rope for dear life as she slowly inches her way down, “I haven’t done anything like this since high school.”

“I fucking hated the rope in gym class,” Hopper says, grinning a little when he hears Joyce laugh.

“I’m still convinced gym was created to torture students. I’m glad I don’t have to do it anymore.”

“I tried to get out of it once by claiming it was my time of the month,” Hopper says, deciding he doesn’t mind sharing such an embarrassing story if it’s Joyce.

She laughs, loosens her grip just enough to slip down, and yelps before holding on tight again. “Okay, finish the story once I’m on the ground,” she says, her voice strained.

Hopper waits, placing his hand on her back when she’s close enough and keeping her steady as she steps away from it. She takes a deep breath, looking around the tunnel with a slight frown. “I forgot the lantern,” she says.

“It’s fine. We have my flashlight.”

“Yeah,” Joyce murmurs, picking up one of the accelerant jugs and twisting the cap off. “So, the rest of that story.”

Hopper smiles as he grabs the other jug. “Well, I knew girls could get outta gym during their time of the month,” he says, “but I had no clue what that actually was. Figured it’d work for me, too, though. I was pretty damn confused when I told the gym teacher and he laughed in my face.”

“How old were you?” Joyce asks.

“Thirteen.”

Joyce snorts, keeping pace with Hopper as he walks. “And do you still not know what a girl’s time of the month is?” she asks.

“Oh, I know. I definitely know.”

Joyce grins, leaning close enough to bump Hopper’s arm with her shoulder. “So, what are we doing now?”

“We’re going to walk around some, get a feel for things, and splash some accelerant around. Then we’ll leave a trail of it as we head back. We’ll climb up the rope, I’ll drop a lighter, and the whole thing should be ash by morning.”

With a nod, Joyce looks to the side and splashes some accelerant against the vines. They don’t seem to react to being hit, but she can’t shake the feeling that something in the air gets heavier with each drop that leaves the jugs.

She tries to ignore it by focusing on what she can see, which is more than she expected in the tunnel. Even if they didn’t have Hopper’s flashlight, there are flowers that grow along the vines, deep purple and ominous and emitting a faint light that makes it just barely possible to see. They’re oddly beautiful, but Joyce doesn’t want to think that about anything from this dimension.

She turns to look at the vines themselves, noting how they tangle over each other but don’t seem to be fighting for space. They all look healthy, too. She can’t see any vines that show signs of dehydration or browning leaves. There’s no battle going on for nutrients here. Somehow, every vine is getting exactly what it needs, allowing them to grow in relative harmony with each other.

They’re walking for a few minutes before she realizes the tunnel never branches in different directions. Sure, it turns a corner sometimes, but it’s always one path for them to follow. Shouldn’t it be more like a maze? If there might be tunnels under all of Hawkins, is it just one giant tunnel that snakes across the town, or have they just not hit another branch yet?

She’s so consumed by this thought as they walk around another bend that she almost misses the sound of something scuttling up ahead.

Almost.

Joyce freezes, grabbing Hopper’s arm to bring him to a stop, too. “Did you hear that?” she asks, keeping her voice to a low whisper as she looks up at him.

He’s staring deeper into the tunnel, frowning as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, “And I didn’t like it one bit.” Hopper moves as he speaks, passing her his jug so he’s free to reach for his gun. He doesn’t pull it out, yet, but he’s ready to.”

“Maybe it was nothing.”

“Maybe it was something.”

Joyce frowns, squeezing Hopper’s arm and pushing closer when she hears a growl echoing down the tunnel. “Okay, definitely something,” she concedes, trying to pull him back. “We should leave. We can dump accelerant on the way back.”

“Will said that, uh, demogorgon thing was tall, right?”

“What? Yeah, I guess.”

Hopper nods, looks up at the ceiling of the tunnel, and says, “We’re barely short enough to walk without crouching. So it’s definitely not one of those.”

“Does it matter what it is?” Joyce hisses, yanking on Hopper’s arm now.

He sighs, staying firmly stuck in place. “Listen, Joyce,” he says, turning to look at her with a slight frown, “Despite this tunnel, I’m still not fully convinced we’re dealing with monsters here. I mean, maybe this is some…Russian spy thing.”

Joyce blinks, stares at Hopper, and wonders if this is the time or place to smack some sense into him. She’s just about to do it anyway when the growl gets louder and the vines around them wiggle for the first time. She stiffens, clenching her jaw as she looks around Hopper to see a pack of…of monsters coming into view. “Hopper,” she whispers, pointing at them.

Hopper turns around, planting himself in front of Joyce to protect her, and sees the ten or so dog-like monsters prowling toward them. He can’t tell if he’s more distracted by their existence or the fact that they don’t have faces. “Okay,” he says, his voice cracking for the first time since he turned twenty, “we’re dealing with monsters.”

The one in the lead opens its head, revealing teeth as the petals of its mouth waver to the sound of its hiss. When it’s only a few yards away, it digs its claws into the ground, crouches, and growls once more. The creatures behind it bristle, looking bigger as they join the leader’s growling, some of them practically chomping at the bit to have Hopper for dinner and Joyce for dessert.

“It’s not attacking yet,” Hopper says, frowning as he tilts his head. “What’s it waiting for?”

“Does it matter?” Joyce asks, her voice strained as she pulls on Hopper’s arm again. This time, he lets her drag him a step back, watching as the lead creature takes exactly one step forward.

“I think it’s just…warning us.”

“We should run then,” Joyce says.

Before Hopper can agree, one of the other creatures suddenly jumps forward, its head fully opening to reveal even more teeth. It takes a few steps past the leader, clearly building up to another lunge, and Hopper reaches for his gun without a second thought.

As his fingers brush over the handle of it, a roar echoes through the tunnel. The leader shoves the other monster aside and leaps at Hopper itself. Hopper shouts and scrambles back, shoving Joyce out of the way just in time to get tackled to the ground.

The air is knocked out of him, making him wheeze as the monster pins him down. It presses into his kidneys and dangerously close to his crotch, its head flowering open and allowing a dizzying stench to wash over Hopper. He grunts, struggling to throw it off as saliva drips from the petals onto his cheek. His heart jackrabbits in his chest, and he has the distant thought that this is it. His life ends exactly like this: in a tunnel, under a monster, with Joyce Byers watching.

He squeezes his eyes shut, man enough to admit he does not, in fact, want to face death as it happens. Hopper tenses, bracing himself for the inevitable pain, and barely registers a distinctly adolescent and undeniably familiar voice shouting in the distance.

It takes one precious second of the remainder of his life to process two things. One, the voice belonged to Will Byers. Two, Will Byers sounded panicked as he shouted, “STEVE, WAIT UP!”

Before Hopper can process any more than that, the monster on his chest uses him as leverage to jump off. He wheezes again, coughing as spore-filled air suddenly enters his lungs, and rolls over onto his stomach in time to see Steve Harrington skidding to a halt a few feet from Joyce, a group of kids backed by Eddie Munson following close behind.

And, of course, the monster that jumps once more to crash into Steve.

Chapter Text

Steve grunts as he catches nearly 75 pounds of demodog in his arms, falling to his ass and wheezing as it wiggles and sends excitement and worry and apologies through their connection. His head spins, trying to keep up with everything as the kids and Eddie and Dart run to catch up. Several new tethers suddenly snap into place in his brain, curious and confused and wondering why they aren’t eating these humans already.

He groans, feeling the demodog in his lap freeze at the sound and whine. Before he can reassure it, though, a rough voice says, “Steve, don’t move.”

He knows that voice. Who’s voice is that? There’s already so many in his head, clamoring for attention, sending him straight into migraine territory. He struggles, forcing his eyes open and beyond grateful for the soft lighting of the tunnel. A vine next to him wiggles some, he notices a flower or two bloom a little wider, and another tether snaps into place.

This one is like a million all tangled into one single thread, easier to handle than each one individually, but still enough to make him feel woozy.

“Don’t shoot!”

“It’s going to eat him!”

“No it won’t! Just don’t fucking shoot!”

He knows that last voice especially well, and Steve grabs onto it, forcing himself to focus as he says without thinking, “Watch your language, Henderson.”

“Seriously?!” Dustin shouts, missing the way Steve winces at the loud noise. And then Dustin yelps when a chorus of growls echo through the tunnel. Most of them are confused as to why they’re growling, but two are utterly sincere in the warning to quiet down so the mother can recover his senses without the pain worsening.

“Okay, sheesh.”

Steve feels Dart come closer, feels his apprehension and concern as he nudges against Steve’s arm. It combines with the concern of the demodog in his lap, and Steve forces himself to focus on just them for now.

He’s worried about the mother, but he’s also relieved the mother is here so he didn’t have to hurt any humans. He wants to get the mother out of the tunnel where so many connections have just snapped into place, but he wants to introduce the mother to the rest of his pack. He wants the mother to open his eyes, and he wants the rest of the pack to understand that the mother is good. He wants to have the father comfort the mother, and he wants to meet the father.

“Eddie,” Steve croaks, his voice raw as he opens his eyes again. He doesn’t have to wait long for Eddie to drop to the ground next to him. Steve meets his eyes, taking a deep breath as he vaguely recognizes the sound of more people speaking in hushed whispers. “This is your second son.”

Eddie blinks, looks at the new demodog, and accepts this fact. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice soft as he reaches out and offers his palm.

A rush of excitement and hesitation floods into Steve, and he can’t help laughing as he takes Eddie’s hand and places it on the demodog’s head. The hesitation melts away, becoming pure excitement as the father pets its head and the mother thanks it for helping him calm down.

“What happened, Stevie?” Eddie whispers.

Steve frowns, relieved that all he can see right now is Eddie and two demodogs. “A lot of connections all at once. My head kind of hurts, but Dart and his sibling are helping,” he says.

“Think you can get up?”

After a few seconds to take stock of himself, Steve nods once. The demodog carefully moves out of his lap, sticking close as Eddie helps him stand. A brief wave of dizziness crashes over him, his head pounding as the connections---drowning in confusion themselves---gently probe him to see if he’s okay. He squeezes his eyes shut, shoves a general reassurance down the tethers, and breathes a sigh of relief.

He opens his eyes and focuses on the kids, finding them standing in a huddle between him and Joyce and Hopper. Steve blinks, his heart feeling a little warmer at the sight, and clears his throat before saying, “I’m fine now.”

The kids whirl around, and Steve realizes there’s a newer face among them. He stares at Max, frowning slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

At the same time that she says, “El invited me,” Dart once again pushes his memory of the kids’ conversation to him.

Steve nods, glancing down at Dart and patting his head thankfully.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?!” Hopper demands.

“It’s, uh, hard to explain,” Steve says.

“Try.”

Steve frowns, opens his mouth to start, and then shuts it again. He glances at Eddie, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head towards Hopper and Joyce. Thankfully, Eddie gets the message. “Steve, Will, and Barb were kidnapped by a monster last year. To get Will and Barb out safely, Steve stayed behind to fight that monster. He, well…when I went through the gate to get him, he wasn’t breathing because there was this vine shoved down his throat.

“I killed the monster, pulled the vine out of Steve, and got him to the other side of the gate before performing CPR. When he got out of the hospital, he threw up Dart and all his head trauma symptoms got seriously worse. We only figured out recently that he’s, like, part of the hive mind that connects everything in the Demiplane.”

“The Upside Down,” Steve corrects, glancing at him. Eddie rolls his eyes fondly but doesn’t rise to the bait of continuing their long-standing argument.

Joyce and Hopper stare at them. Finally, Joyce asks, “And you’ve been…dealing with this alone?”

Steve glances at Eddie and shrugs. “Who would’ve believed me?” he asks. “Eddie was enough, and the kids helped once they knew.”

“We’re the ones who told you it was a hive mind,” Mike says, looking at Steve incredulously.

“Hey, I just connected to like a thousand different things down here,” Steve says, “Forgive me if my memory isn’t great right now.”

“Wait, you did?” Dustin asks, his eyes lighting up some as he moves closer. “What did you connect to?”

“Well, obviously.” Steve says, gesturing at the second demodog next to him. “But also them and the vines. I think.” Following his words, some of the vines on the wall wiggle again, and that multi-single tether in his brain pulses with recognition. “Okay, yeah, the vines, too.”

“Okay,” Joyce says, stepping forward with her hands out as she looks at each of them. “Let’s get a few things straight. Are these tunnels going to be a problem? Are you at risk of, I don’t know, falling to this hive mind thing? Will these monsters hurt anyone?”

“They’re demodogs,” Will says. When Joyce looks at him, he blushes slightly and shifts closer to Mike. “That’s what we call them.”

“Okay. Will these demodogs hurt anyone?”

Steve thinks for a moment, looking down at the demodog hovering between him and Eddie. It tilts its head up, and he places his hand on it. In response, it shares a memory of Dart sharing memories with it, of it learning about the mother and the father and how things could be different. And then it pushes the idea of sharing that memory with the rest of its pack, oozing confidence that everything will be just fine.

“The tunnel shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve says, looking up at Joyce and Hopper, “I’ll take care of it if it becomes one. I am at risk, technically, but I’ve been handling it with Dart and Eddie. And these demodogs won’t hurt anyone. Other packs might, but this one is going to try spreading the word.”

“What word?” Hopper asks.

Steve flushes slightly, looking away and glancing at Eddie once more. What he gets in return is a grin. “Well, Stevie here is called the mother,” Eddie says, his voice more than amused, “Which means these demodoggies are all getting inducted into the Cult of the Mother as we speak.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters, elbowing Eddie before adding, “They call Eddie the father, so he’s as much a part of that cult as me.”

“Dude,” Lucas says, his face scrunched into an expression that’s somewhere between sympathy and judgment.

Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “You do not want to say a thing right now, Sinclair. Don’t think I’m not still talking to all of you about this stunt you pulled tonight,” he says.

“I get it,” Max suddenly says, nodding once. “He’s definitely a mom. But, like, a good one. Like the ones you see on TV.”

“Yes, he is,” El agrees, smiling slightly at Steve.

“I need a drink,” Hopper says, sighing as he looks at the still waiting demodogs behind him. They all look antsy, but more like they want to approach Steve and sniff him out. It’s better than wanting to attack anyone, though, so Hopper might as well let it go for now. “What are you doing about them?”

“Eddie and I can stay to talk to them, but you should get the kids out of here,” Steve says. “Take them to my place.”

Joyce meets his eyes, holding his gaze for a few minutes before nodding. “Okay,” she says, looking hesitant to leave him and Eddie behind but eager to get the kids out before anything else can happen.

“What? Why do we have to leave?” Dustin asks.

Steve levels a glare at him. “Because I’m not babysitting you while trying to convince a pack of demodogs to not go on a human hunting spree.”

“Fair enough,” Will says, cutting Dustin off before he can say more and pushing him along.

Hopper lets the kids and Joyce go first, pausing when he passes Steve. “You’ll be okay?” he asks, his voice low so the kids don’t hear.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “just fine. Spare key is in the planter by the door.”

After a few seconds, Hopper nods once, pats Steve’s shoulder, and hurries after the kids. Once they’re out of hearing range, Steve sighs and turns to the demodogs.

Chapter Text

Getting information from the vines is different than getting it from the demodogs. The demodogs only get audio input and smells, leaving Steve to fill in the blanks with the faces that belong to each voice. Somehow, the vines can get visual input, meaning Steve can literally see Hopper, Joyce, and the kids struggling to climb the rope out of the tunnel.

When his mind lingers a little too long on wondering how the vines can see things, he gets another flood of information from that multi-single tether. It’s not tangible; he couldn’t repeat the information word-for-word because there are no words. What the vines give him is more like feelings and inherited memories.

The spores, flowers, and vines process light (they are still plants, after all), and somewhere in the very weird process of the Upside Down’s photosynthesis, they get actual images of the world around them, too. They’ve never considered this to be special or particularly useful, but Steve can feel their happiness and excitement at being helpful to him now.

Steve frowns slightly, tilting his head as he looks at the nearest vine. He reaches out, placing a hand on it and feeling it pulse under his palm. Then he pushes through a general curiosity of why the vines have accepted him so easily. Dart he can understand; the demodog literally came from him. Dart’s sibling wanted to eat him at first, but eventually came around, especially after meeting Dart. The other demodogs are wary and confused.

But the vines are just…immediately on board.

He gets several images in response, flooding through his brain and almost too much to process. Himself running through the tunnel but still making sure to avoid stepping on vines when he can help it. His fingers brushing along other vines when he does have to step on one, gentle despite his hurry and apologetic. Demodogs and demogorgons treading on vines without a care, their claws tearing through and crushing flowers.

Oh.

“Okay,” he whispers, nodding once as he pats the vine before pulling his hand away. He feels gratitude and support from that multi-single tether, and Steve suddenly knows things are going to be a lot easier with the vines on his side.

“You still doing okay?” Eddie asks, placing a hand on Steve’s lower back and leaning closer. “You don’t have to do this right now. I’m sure the demodogs can wait.”

Steve shakes his head, taking a deep breath and wondering if the spores in the air feel as grounding to Eddie as they do to him. They probably don’t, now that he thinks about it. “I’m fine,” he says, “I just…need to go slow.”

With that, he walks over to the pack of demodogs, carefully moving around the vines when he can. They send to him an image of Eddie doing the same, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates on following Steve’s path exactly. Steve can’t help a slight smile at that as he comes to a stop in front of the pack.

Dart sticks close to his right side, and the new demodog sticks to his left, pushing hesitation and eagerness and worry through its connection to Steve. He can’t blame it. These demodogs are confused, they’re frustrated that their hunt was interrupted, and they’re hungry.

Steve takes a deep breath and sits on the ground in front of the pack. He looks each one over, able to locate his individual tether to each without needing to think about it. His brain pulses as he does, sending a wave of ache through him, but he ignores that for now. After looking the whole pack over, he gently tugs on a tether, encouraging one of the demodogs closer.

He feels Dart’s sibling tense next to him when the demodog moves, a warning growl echoing around them that makes the demodog crouch lower to the ground so it’s not taller than Steve. “It’s okay,” Steve says, placing a hand on Dart’s sibling to calm it down. The growl stops, and it pushes through the idea that the rest of its pack will approach the same way now.

Instead of trying to respond to that, Steve turns his attention to the new demodog. It’s still crouched low to the ground, head tilted up towards him. Steve reassures it through its tether, reaching out and petting its head.

He’s anxious and curious about this human. He wonders if the human will taste as good as it smells but feels hesitant to actually try. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitant, and that confuses and frustrates him. The hand on his head is gentle, and that’s weird, but it’s a good weird, he thinks. He wonders if he can move closer, and then he does when the human…no, what did his packmate call it? The mother? Right. He moves closer when the mother reassures him that he can, placing his head on the mother’s knee.

Steve inhales sharply as he carefully pulls back from the demodog’s mind, continuing to pet its head as his brain reorients itself to a human body.

“Eddie, I need you to sit with me,” he says, feeling Dart move out of the way so Eddie can drop to the ground next to him. “Just, put your hand on my shoulder or something.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his hand warm and heavy on Steve’s shoulder. It grounds him, reminds him of something outside of himself and all the new connections in his brain.

Steve takes another deep breath and looks at the demodog resting its head on his knee. He strokes its head one more time before pushing through an image of Eddie doing the same, gently encouraging it to move along so Steve can meet the next member of its pack. The demodog pulls back, shaking itself out before moving a few steps to stand in front of Eddie, head tilted and curious about this new human, the father. Eddie grins and reaches out, scratching under its chin as he says, “Welcome to the cult.”

Steve snorts, rolling his eyes fondly, and starts the process over again with another demodog. He gently tugs on the tether, encourages the demodog closer, pets its head and ends up taking a peek at its brain, gets pulled back to himself by focusing on Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, and sends the demodog to meet Eddie next.

It’s a lengthy process if only because Steve can’t control how long he spends down each demodog’s tether. Sometimes it’s only a few seconds, but others hold him longer, their emotions getting the better of him and their excitement pushing memory after memory at Steve since he’s already there. The only thing that helps him pull himself out is Eddie squeezing his shoulder, reminding him of his own body and his own mind and his own memories.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he gets through the whole pack, but he does know he’s exhausted. It’s more than just being physically tired; his brain is just about ready to shut down and only come back online after he’s napped for a few hours.

Steve leans his head on Eddie’s shoulder, reassuring the waves of concern that pulse through his brain when the demodogs feel his exhaustion. He closes his eyes, breathes deep, and would’ve fallen asleep right there if Eddie didn’t say, “We’ve still gotta get back, sweetheart. There are children to scold.”

“Right,” he mumbles, trying to find the energy to get up and walk back down the tunnel. He comes up empty and is just about ready to let Eddie drag him when the multi-single connection gently tugs on his brain, getting his attention before pushing through an offer.

Steve doesn’t understand at first. The image he gets is a flower blooming, gentle purple light beginning to glow from its petals. He still agrees, though, figuring the vines know what they’re doing. The moment he does, a rush of energy surges down the multi-single tether, buzzing through his brain and into his nervous system.

He jolts, blinking twice as he looks down at the vines, his limbs bursting with energy that needs expending. Steve grins, reaching down to run his fingers over the nearest vine gratefully before looking at Eddie. “Help me up?” he asks.

Eddie nods, scrambling to his feet and displacing the demodogs that had been lying around him. “Sorry, sorry,” he tells them, reaching down to pat a few heads apologetically before pulling Steve to his feet as well.

Once he’s steady, Steve looks at Dart, about to wave him along when his connection to Dart tugs gently. He tilts his head, parsing through the feelings before finally understanding that Dart wants to stick around and bond with his newest siblings. “Okay,” Steve says, patting the demodog’s head, “but I expect you home by noon tomorrow.”

He grins when Dart nods before throwing himself into the middle of the demodog pack.

The front door is unlocked when they reach Steve’s house, and Steve can’t help firmly locking it once he and Eddie are inside. Eddie squeezes his hand one last time before reluctantly letting go. “Spend the night,” Steve says, his voice quiet so only Eddie could hear him. That erases the frown that had tugged at his lips, a smile replacing it as Eddie nods.

Steve returns the smile and leads Eddie to the living room, following the sound of voices. Hopper seems to have found his father’s liquor cabinet if the glass of amber liquid in his hand is any indication, and Joyce looks about two seconds from asking for a glass herself. The kids are crowded together on the couch and sprawled on the floor in front of it, looking exhausted and just plain burnt out.

Unfortunately for them, Steve is brimming with energy from the vines. He stands in the doorway, crosses his arms, and clears his throat to get their attention. “Steve! You’re finally back,” Dustin says, perking up only to shrink back when he realizes Steve isn’t smiling at them.

“Whose idea was it?” Steve asks, meeting each kid’s eyes.

Lucas is the first to crack, grimacing as he says, “It was Dustin’s.”

“Dude!”

“To be fair,” El says, “we all agreed.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Will says, looking up at Steve with an apologetic expression that he can’t possibly continue to glare at. “But we didn’t have a way to reach you.”

“Because you and Eddie flaked,” Mike mutters.

“I already told you they didn’t,” Will says, frowning as he pulls away slightly from Mike. “Please, just be nice.”

Mike doesn’t say anything, but he does duck his head in shame. Steve watches them for a moment before looking at El. “It was your idea to bring Max into this?” he asks.

“Yes,” El says, nodding once. “Max was with me when the boys radioed, and I wanted to tell her everything anyway.”

“And what about you?” Steve asks, turning his attention to Max now. “I know these dickheads--”

“Hey!” Dustin shouts, “How come you can curse but we can’t?”

Steve glares, planting his hands on his hips. “Because I’m angry, Henderson. Don’t make it worse for yourself,” he says, waiting for Dustin to huff before looking at Max again. “As I was saying, I know these dickheads just sneak away because their parents don’t check their rooms, but will yours?”

“Maybe I need to start checking,” Joyce murmurs, frowning slightly as she looks at Will. “Jonathan was supposed to be watching you tonight.”

Before Steve can say anything about that, Max shakes her head. “Mom doesn’t wake up, and Billy was on a date with Barb anyway.”

Steve pauses, blinks twice, and asks, “Barbara Holland?”

“Yeah.”

“One thing at a time, Stevie,” Eddie says, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder before he can turn on his heel and beat Billy’s motives out of him.

Steve closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and nods. “Okay, good to know,” he says, “Now that I have all the information I need, does anyone want to try defending themselves?”

“I don’t think they can with your warpath,” Hopper says, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh, don’t get me started on you two,” Steve says, his gaze looking between Hopper and Joyce for a moment. “Are you stupid? Do you have a brain? You learn about an interdimensional tunnel that could be filled with monsters, and you go spelunking through it?!”

“Spelunking?” Lucas asks.

“We’re adults, Steve,” Joyce says.

And Steve can’t help it. He laughs, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he tries to comprehend everything.

He gets it. They are adults. But they’re also a cop and a parent: the two most useless people in any horror unless they’re the main character. “You could’ve been killed,” he says, “All of you could’ve been killed, but you two especially. If I hadn’t shown up, those demodogs would have torn you to shreds, and then I would be the one telling Will that his mother died because I’m the one who would’ve found your corpses. Or, heaven forbid, the kids would’ve found you first! Did you even realize what you could be putting them through?! Did you even consider the trauma of finding two adults ripped apart?

“And we wouldn’t even be able to give you proper burials! How the fuck would I explain you two being ripped to shreds, huh? A bear? We haven’t had a bear around here in years! I would’ve been suspect number one if I’d gone to the police station and said I just found your bodies in the pumpkin patch. Did you even think ahead? Did you even consider any of this? Do you think you’re indestructible just because you’re adults?”

“Harsh,” Mike mumbles, effectively reminding Steve that he and the kids are still there and not properly scolded yet.

“And you kids,” he says, watching as all of them except El stiffen at his tone. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I expected better from all of you, I’ll be honest. You know, you know, to contact me or find Dart to contact me if something happens. I am literally your babysitter, it is my entire job to keep you guys from killing yourselves, and you just go off and waltz right into a dangerous tunnel with monsters that would eat you no questions asked!

“You’re lucky that Dart stumbled on your little planning session and told me what you were doing! There’s absolutely no guarantee he and his sibling would’ve been able to hold those demodogs back if they decided you looked tasty enough. I wouldn’t know where you’d gone, your parents wouldn’t know where you’d gone, there’d have been a whole manhunt for all of you if you didn’t come back from those tunnels, and you didn’t think of any of this! Are you trying to---”

“Stevie.”

Without thinking, Steve whirls on Eddie. “What?” he snaps.

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just holds Steve’s gaze and raises his eyebrows, allowing Steve to just breathe for a few seconds. Once his shoulders release tension Steve didn’t even know he had, Eddie says, “I think they get the point.”

Steve blinks and looks at the kids, Hopper, and Joyce. They’re all looking particularly cowed, refusing to meet each other’s gazes and seeming to regret their life choices up to that point. Steve takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, watching as several eyes snap to him, filled with surprise and confusion. “I know you two were trying to protect the kids, and I know you heathens just wanted to help. I was just…really worried about all of you. Please don’t do anything like that ever again without telling me.”

A few seconds of silence pass, and then Will gets off the couch and practically tackles Steve with a hug. Steve slides back a step, steadied by Eddie’s hand on his back, and hugs Will back. Before he can do more than blink, he’s suddenly bombarded by the other kids, smoothing down hair and patting backs and wiping away a stray tear wherever he can.

A large hand on his shoulder makes Steve jump, and he looks up to see Hopper standing next to him. “Thanks for the save today, kid,” he says, nodding once before moving aside so Joyce can take his place.

She studies Steve for a few moments before smiling. “Thank you for protecting Will,” she says, “I feel like I should be paying you more for babysitting.”

Steve blinks and laughs, waving off her words before settling his hand on Max’s head, glancing down at her only to see the way she’s stubbornly staring at El instead of looking at him. “It’s fine,” he says, smiling at Joyce before saying to everyone, “How about you spend the night? Plenty of empty rooms in this house.”

He’s looking forward to sleeping and already planning to make pancakes in the morning as the kids all nod and pressure Hopper and Joyce into agreeing, too.

Chapter Text

The new siblings are eager. They keep demanding Dart's memories, passing them amongst themselves as though they haven't all received the same thing. When they've turned one memory over enough, they start clamoring for the next.

They're currently occupied with a memory of the mother and the father dancing with Dart twisting between their legs.

Dart huffs and flops against the floor of the tunnel. Vines shift around him, and the sibling he's known the longest ambles over. He thinks, distantly, that this sibling might also want a name. He can keep track of everyone easily, but the mother calling Dart makes him feel special.

When the sibling settles next to him, he pushes forward a memory. It's relatively new. Most of the sensations are still fresh. The smell of chocolate is heavy, the disorientation of being lifted by unfamiliar hands is dizzying, and the sound of Dustin naming him is deafening.

The sibling considers the memory, pushing Dart's name back at him to confirm what he's asking. When Dart grumbles in approval, the sibling nudges at their connection. Dart allows them closer. Memories flow freely between them, and the sibling eventually settles on one of Dart finding a snake in the forest.

While Dart's focus in the memory is on the thrill of a hunt, his sibling focuses on the prey itself. It circles the snake a few times before opening its petals and hissing.

"Shit! Is that an adder?" the father in the memory asks, tugging Dart back.

Dart's sibling perks up, and the mother's answer is lost beneath its growl.

Adder. Not a bad name. The father likes a guitar that's also named after snakes. Dart offers a memory of the father introducing the guitar, crooning over the shape and sounds. The memory only affirms the name.

Adder puffs out its chest, happy with the special designation. It shares this with the rest of the pack, interrupting their memory viewing. 

A new kind of chaos begins as some of the pack demand names and others demand to know what the point is. A few remain uninterested even after Dart offers memories and sensations where having a name has made all the difference. They don't feel the need. The mother can still tell them apart even without names. That's the perk of the web, being so connected that names are pointless.

Dart doesn't try convincing them further. Those siblings can do as they like, and the mother will still treat them the same. He focuses on the siblings that do want names. He lets them sift through his memories one by one, searching for anything that resonates. 

When they're done, he'll go over the rules with them. They need to know how to behave if they want to be in the mother's web. He'll spend the most time on how to interact with the mother and the father and how to treat the human siblings. 

Dart is determined to get this right. If the pack here understands, they can spread the word as the web grows. The mother will be busy enough trying to adjust, after all. This will be one less thing on his plate, and he'll probably let Dart have three whole chocolate bars for being so smart and considerate.

Despite offering up the empty rooms, the kids fall asleep in a chaotic pile in the living room. The TV casts a soft glow over them as an episode of Star Trek plays on low volume. They'd managed to stay awake for two episodes, munching on snacks before exhaustion caught up to them.

Steve drapes whatever extra blankets he could find over them, gathers all the dishes, and goes to the kitchen. Eddie stays behind to finish the episode, nodding off despite himself. It's cute. Steve should tease him about it later.

The kitchen is already occupied when he enters. Joyce and Hopper are seated at the breakfast table, glasses in front of them and the bottle of whiskey between them. They don't seem to have gotten far, but they've had enough to relax their shoulders.

"Don't mind me," Steve says. He raises the dishes in his hands before heading to the sink. If he does them now, he doesn't have to in the morning. He'd rather a clean slate of a kitchen if he's going to make pancakes.

The water is starting to steam by the time a chair scrapes against the floor. "Mind if I ask something?" Hopper says.

"You just did, but sure."

Steve glances over to see a bemused expression on Hopper's face. He gets the feeling he's not going to like the next question, though, so he quickly focuses back on scrubbing a plate. 

"How long has this house been empty?"

Steve was right. He doesn't like the question.

"About a year and a half now," he says, his words clipped. He feels an anxious tug coming from his brain, several new connections checking to see if he's all right. Steve grimaces, clenches his jaw, and sends reassurances in return. Even when the connections quiet, his head still throbs. He's really got to figure out how to control that. "It's normal."

"No," Joyce says, "it's really not."

He doesn't know when she got up to join Hopper, but now they're standing on either side of him by the sink. Joyce, at least, has the decency to wipe dishes dry if she's going to be poking at his private life. Hopper just stands there, arms crossed.

"It is for me. It's better this way," Steve tells them, passing Joyce a plate.

Hopper clears his throat, taps his fingers against his arm. "Be honest, kid. Have they ever…"

Steve blinks. He fights the urge to laugh and barely wins. "Hit me? No, never. That would require them being around. Nope, they just go off on their business trips and vacations and leave me alone. It's better that way."

"Doesn't it get lonely?" Joyce asks, placing a now-dry cup next to the dry plate. "You know you can come stay at my place, right?"

Steve does laugh that time. "Nah. I've got Eddie and Dart. And a whole bunch of demodogs and the vine now. It's impossible to be alone. So, uh, can we just drop this one? You're a couple years too late to make much of a difference."

Joyce and Hopper share a look, and Steve wonders if this is how the kids feel whenever he and Eddie do the same. Finally, Hopper holds up his hands in surrender.

With a satisfied smile, Joyce begins drying another plate. "Well, just remember we're here if you need anything," she says. "You might be mature, but you're not an adult. There are some things you shouldn't handle alone."

"Like monsters," Hopper adds.

"Like monsters, yes."

"You might've said all that earlier about adults in movies, but this isn't a movie," Hopper says, his voice taking on a cadence that screams PSA. "Let us shoulder some of the worry."

Despite him nodding in agreement, Steve knows he won't take them up on that offer. He's managed just fine so far. Besides, he'd rather not give Hopper and Joyce permanent roles in his life when it's feeling more and more like a horror movie. 

Adults always die unless they're the protagonists. 

"I'll let you know," he promises, flashing them both a smile that he knows is reassuring. He's seen many an anxious parent's shoulders relax upon seeing it. 

A gentle knock on the wall pulls Steve's attention away from Hopper and Joyce. He finds Eddie yawning as he leans against the wall. "Almost done, Stevie?" he asks, his words slow and nearly slurred.

"We'll finish up," Joyce says before he can answer. She smiles at him and takes the bowl and sponge from his hands. "You should rest."

"Yeah, get some sleep, kid."

Steve looks between the two adults and marvels at the relief he feels. It's tiny. It's just the dishes. Leaving them unfinished won't be the end of the world. But, for once, they're not his responsibility. He can walk away and know they'll be clean in the morning. It's not the world being lifted from his shoulders, but it's amazing the difference a rock or two being taken can make.

"See ya in the morning," he says, smiling gratefully before he walks over to Eddie and starts herding him towards the stairs.

Once they're out of sight, Hopper looks at Joyce. He hesitates for a few seconds before saying, "They really do seem…close."

Joyce seems to catch his meaning almost immediatedly. She frowns, looks back at the doorway where Steve and Eddie just were, and nods. "They do," she says, "I didn't think…"

"Not sure anyone did. It's gonna be rough."

"We'll watch out for them," Joyce says, her voice firm. After leaving Hopper with no room to disagree—not that he would anyway—she turns back to the sink and starts scrubbing a plate.

Chapter Text

The moment his door is closed, Steve collapses face-first onto his bed. The pillows and blankets welcome him with open arms, and he feels himself finally relax. He slowly exhales all the tension that had been gathering in his shoulders.

As a fleeting thought, he pushes the idea of rest and quiet to every connection in the back of his mind. They're overlapping and chaotic like a mess of wires. He needs to organize them, but that can wait until later. For now, it's enough that he receives reassurances and pulses of understanding from the demodogs and the vines.

The mattress shifts as Eddie climbs into the bed next to him. Steve waits as he seems to wiggle around some before rolling closer until their arms are pressed together. "So, what's a gorgeous piece of ass like you doing in a place like this?" Eddie asks.

Steve snorts and rolls onto his side. He's greeted by the incredible sight of Eddie smiling at him, strands of his hair splayed out on the pillow. "Believe it or not, I'm a regular," he says. "Could say I know the owners."

"Oh?" Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at him as he shifts closer. "Is that supposed to impress me, big boy?"

"You're not? I mean, I'm a pretty big deal. Got lots of connections."

Eddie blinks and dissolves into laughter, pushing on Steve's shoulder to roll him away. "Fuck, that was bad," he says.

"Couldn't have been that bad if it made you laugh," Steve points out, rolling right back until they're chest-to-chest. He buries his face in Eddie's neck and throws his arm over Eddie's waist and tangles their legs together. Once he's lost track of where he ends and Eddie begins, he sighs softly.

Fingers gently push into his hair, running through the strands as Eddie shifts to get comfortable. He finally settles on his back with Steve just as tangled up in him as before. "How you feeling, sweetheart?" he asks, voice soft.

The words make his chest rumble, and Steve feels the vibrations in his bones. He sighs, feeling Eddie twitch when his breath tickles his skin. "Adults know. They never survive when they know."

"Some do."

"Yeah, but those adults are the main characters," Steve points out. He hesitates for a moment before adding, "This probably sounds stupid, but I don't think Hopper or Joyce are at the center of…everything. They aren't safe."

Maybe it's self-centered, but Steve feels like he's at the center of it all. What else could having a hive mind mean? Or maybe El is the center of everything, if only because escaping from a secret lab is a great character background.

A few beats of silence pass as Eddie seems to consider Steve's words. "It's not stupid," he finally says. He's still running his fingers through Steve's hair, the motion steady and reassuring. "Do we need to do anything about it?"

Steve can hear the question Eddie doesn't ask.

Will more happen?

The answer is yes. It can only be yes. If this were a book, it'd be just one installment in a series. It would be the third or fourth, Steve thinks. The adventure is important, sure, but the character development and world-building are what really matter.

"We'll have to find a balance," Steve says. "They want to be involved, but that's dangerous."

"But they'll involve themselves if they think we're leaving them out," Eddie says, completing Steve's thought easily. "Maybe we just rely on them for clean-up? We've been doing this alone long enough that they'd believe we just…forgot to tell them."

"Only so many times, though. Hopper and Joyce aren't stupid. They'll catch on. I wish they'd just stay out of it."

"Not all adults can be as relaxed as Uncle Wayne, sweetheart."

Steve hums softly in agreement, wishing Eddie were wrong. Wayne knows everything; they couldn't have explained El's appearance properly without filling him in. He'd just nodded, told them he'd be there for anything they needed, and then asked Steve if he wanted to catch the game later.

It's perfect. Steve feels comfortable being around Wayne without having to worry about him getting hurt. And, if they ever do need Wayne for something, Steve wouldn't hesitate to ask. Wayne will just do what needs doing and then get out.

The amount of trust and faith he must have in Steve and Eddie is unbelievable.

"We'll try it a few times," Steve finally says, "Maybe we can keep them busy by asking them to map the tunnels?"

"Or keep an extra eye on the kids."

"They could prep and store emergency bags around town. That would take a while."

"And they'd be out of harm's way."

Steve nods, liking this plan.

He closes his eyes and listens to Eddie's heartbeat. It's steady and soothing. He's nearly fallen asleep when Eddie's hand moves to his lower back and his fingers start tracing circles. Eddie hums softly, and Steve immediately recognizes it as the Voyagers opening theme.

"You're not subtle," he says, shifting his head until he can meet Eddie's gaze.

Eddie just grins, letting his hand settle on the waistband of Steve's jeans. "Wasn't trying to be."

Steve pretends to think about it. He glances at the clock on his nightstand. "It's getting pretty late," he says.

He's barely finished speaking when Eddie flips them over. A surprised huff escapes Steve as he blinks, suddenly finding his back on the mattress and Eddie's face above him. "C'mon, Stevie, it'll help you relax," he says.

"I was already relaxed."

Eddie hums and grabs Steve's hand. He brings it to his lips and brushes a kiss across Steve's knuckles. Then Eddie turns his hand over and kisses Steve's palm. "You were thinking pretty loud, sweetheart." The words brush over Steve's skin, warm and promising.

"I was falling asleep," Steve says, his voice flat. Despite his tone, he doesn't pull his hand away when Eddie starts to press a trail of kisses to his wrist.

"Sure, sure," Eddie says between kisses, "but you're forgetting something incredibly important, big boy."

"What's that?"

"I wanted to kiss you so stupid when you were scolding everyone."

Steve blinks and can't help laughing.

Eddie grins like he's won the lottery. He dips down and kisses Steve, chasing after the taste of his laughter. He laces their fingers together, pinning Steve's hand to the pillow. His other hand slides under Steve's shirt and settles on his waist.

It's still late. Steve has to wake up early tomorrow before the kid start banging on the door demanding pancakes. But Eddie is leaving him breathless, and making out with Eddie is so much more fun than sleeping.

Steve resigns himself to drinking an extra cup of coffee in the morning and lets Eddie kiss him stupid.