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Steve gets nightmares.
It’s silly, he thinks. Even when everything is said and done, he’s waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panting. His mind scattered as he searched his bedroom for an enemy that wasn't there— because the only enemy that remains now is the one in the mirror and the one in his mind.
It’s hard. As the crawls draw on, his anxiety only intensifies. Because what happens if— when they do find something? Sure, there’s a plan. But everyone knows that nothing ever goes to plan, not when you’re facing an interdimensional force. They’re only human. Steve is only human. And for some reason, he feels alone in the utter terror he feels when he goes to sleep. He’s sure that the others get them too, the nightmares. But no one ever mentions it.
The lack of sleep has been getting to him. And on today’s crawl it’s abundantly obvious to Y/N.
He’s been irritable. Steve and Dustin’s relationship was already a bit rocky since Eddie’s death— but this was different. Typically, Steve had a bit more restraint, he was the adult after all. Most of the time, he knew better than to pick fights with a teenage boy. But right now, he was downright snappy. Arms folded as he leans against the van, sideyeing the rest of the group as he waits for Dustin and Y/N to load into the van so they can prepare to start tracking Hopper’s journey in the Upside Down.
Unforunately for Steve, Y/N can see through the irritation, all the way to the exhaustion that has found it’s way to his very core. The deep seated sense of tiredness that he carries with him, like a burden heavy on his shoulders.
“Get in the passenger seat.” Is all she says, opening the driver’s side door.
Steve blinks. “Excuse me?” He straightens his posture, pushing off the van. “I drive. I’m the driver.” His words are insistent as he watches her take a seat, getting comfortable in the van.
The eye contact is a bit intense, like a staredown between two unmoving forces. “Not today.” She responds simply, and the look in her eyes tells him she’s not letting this go. “Passenger seat. Now.”
Dustin watches the exchange, looking back and forth between the two. He finds himself feeling a bit unnerved by it all. They don’t fight, not that he’s ever seen at least. In fact, Dustin has always been a bit confused by their relationship. He’s never really had the courage to ask what exactly went on between them, but a part of him knew it was a bit more than friendship. You don’t look at friends the way Steve looks at her. Though Dustin was unsure if this was just some sad unrequited love story or not.
But he knew one thing for certain: she spoke and Steve obeyed.
Begrudgingly, like a toddler throwing a tantrum and grumbling under his breath, Steve dragged himself to the passenger seat. Slamming his door and all. Y/N looks to Dustin and gestures for him to enter the back of the van, “you got it handled, right?” She has a sweet sile on her face as she speaks to him. Always one to care for the kids (although they’re teens now, she can’t find it in herself to see anything but the baby-faced tweens she once knew).
Dustin only nods.
Y/N gets settled into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat and the mirrors. She doesn't particularly enjoy driving, in fact, she hates it. Being Steve’s passenger princess is the highlight of her life, but right now— Steve evidently needs the passenger princess treatment. Though she’s unsure as to what exactly is wrong with him, she’s well aware that something is bothering him. The bags under his eyes certainly don’t go unnoticed either.
She’s reaching into the back of the can, tugging a stray blanket from under the rest of the mess back there and throwing it in his face. Steve acts like he’s been personally attacked, shoving the blanket off of himself. “The hell?” He grumbles, shifting in the passenger seat to glare at her.
She glares back, Steve relents. He always relents when its her.
“Alrighty, let’s go.” She chirps simply, starting the van and their aimless drive.
Crawls are pretty boring most of the time. There’s always that underlying sense of anxiety, the what if? But typically, aside from a sense of impending doom, nothing happens. Instead, they spent around 90 minutes just driving in circles with near dead silence. And it’s easy to grow drowsy. The van is nothing if not consistent, slow, steady and stable.
So, Steve falls asleep. He fights it for a while. His head lolling forward as he drifts off, only for him to jump in his seat— shake his head in an effort to get rid of the sleepiness— and stare at the road in an effort to remain alert. But eventually his soft snores fill the vehicle, blanket strewn messily over his lap. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
Dustin quickly realizes that this was all part of Y/N’s master plan, and concludes that Steve is not pathetic and in a state of sad unrequited love. No, the feelings seem rather mutual.
The crawl time elapses, ending with the dejected sound of Joyce’s voice and the promise for more the next time around. Hopper returns safe and sound, once more leaving them no closer to success.
With a sigh, Y/N turns back to look at Dustin. “I’ll drop you off, alright?” She says, her voice hushed.
Once again, Dustin only nods. But he finds himself compelled to stare at the way she adjusts the blanket so it drapes over Steve’s shoulders. Gently shifting his head so that he doesn’t get that odd pain in his neck when he eventually wakes. It's the type of care that makes you pause, the type of love that leaves something to be desired.
As promised, she drops Dustin off. Pulling up to his house and waving goodbye to him with a soft smile. She waits for him to get inside, sighing as she looks back to Steve, who is still passed out. Her brows furrow a bit at the sight, it’s endearing— seeing him asleep and at peace. But knowing that the reason he’s knocked out in the back of a van is because he evidently hasn’t been sleeping… that’s not particularly reassuring.
She sighs, starting the van’s engine and turning the radio on now that the crawl is over— she picks a calmer station to listen to. Quiet and soft, determined not to disrupt Steve’s sleep as she starts driving towards the desolate Harrington House. It must be lonely, his parents had been out of state when the quarantine began and couldn’t re-enter Hawkins— not that it would’ve mattered if they had. Steve’s parents had never been the most present.
How scary, to be all alone in such a big house.
It’s not long before they arrive, she pulls into the driveway, unbuckling and shifting in her seat to gently shake his shoulder. “Steve.” She murmurs his name quietly, trying to rouse him from sleep. She mumbles his name a couple more times, gently shaking him before he begins to stir. His eyes flutter and as consciousness finds him— he jumps in his seat, shaking his head and clearing his throat.
“I’m— I’m up— I’m up—” He looks around, a tad disoriented, probably still half asleep as he looks to Y/N. “The crawl?”
She only shakes her head. “All done.” Comes her response. “You slept through another uneventful evening.”
Steve sighs, letting his head fall back against the car seat. “Great.” He breathes out, sitting up and looking at her. He pushes the blanket off his person, folding it up carefully. “Thanks.” He says quietly. “For letting me sleep.”
“You clearly needed it.”
He rubs the back of his neck, a tad remorseful. “I was an ass. Sorry.”
She waves it off, “it’s fine. You were tired.” Her gaze returns to the Harrington house. “I can drop off the van tomorrow, you should rest.” She assures him.
Steve frowns, shaking his head as looks at her, almost incredulously. “Nah, I got it. My car is still at the station anyways.” He unbuckles from his seat, as if on autopilot. Mentally, he’s still half asleep, which is the only reason why his next words even leave the deep dark corners in the back of his mind.
“You can just stay the night.”
There are a million other options Steve could have proposed if he actually cared about delivering the van back to the WSQK Radio Station himself. He could’ve offered to drive her home and then come back to his house, dropping off the van tomorrow. He could’ve driven there right now if he really wanted to, grabbed his car and came home.
Instead, he asks Y/N to stay the night.
She tilts her head at him, pausing for a moment as she considers him, his offer. Clearly unsure if this is a polite offer that any normal person would know to reject or something more genuine. Naturally, she plays it safe and assumes the former. “I don't want to impose—”
Immediately, he shakes his head. “You aren’t.” He insists, pausing. “I—I want you to stay.” And when her answer isn’t an immediate yes, he clears his throat. “Unless you don’t want to. I can drive you home. Or you can drive. In the van. Whatever you want.”
And god, he feels awkward having asked at all. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He just had to open his big dumb mouth. It’s entirely selfish to crave her presence, to ask her to stay. But he does it anyway, a bit desperate to have someone by his side tonight.
Lucky for him, she’s never had any complaints about indulging him.
“Okay.” She breathes out simply. “Sure— sure, that should be fine.” She murmurs softly.
He lets out a sigh of relief, offering her a sheepish smile. “Yes?” He shifts in his seat. “Great— cool. Cool. Perfect.” The words tumble out of his mouth before he has much of a chance to stop them.
Then he just looks at her, a bit expectant. Clearly waiting for her to step out of the car first before he follows, because he really wants to make sure she actually plans to stay the night. Thankfully, she gets the picture, pushing her door open and stepping out of the car. Her legs feel a bit sore, having driven for so long. She stretches her arms above her head while Steve exits the vehicle, his own legs feeling like jelly after almost 2 hours of sleep.
He quickly heads to his front door, making sure she follows as he unlocks it swiftly and pushes it open. Y/N has been over before, it’s nothing new. Same oddly perfect foyer, perfectly organized living room, hardly a semblance of evidence that someone lives here aside from Steve’s jacket over the back of the couch and the shoes he just kicked off by the entrance. She follows suit, shrugging off her hoody and kicking off her sneakers before her gaze begins to dart around, curious as ever.
She’s been to his home before, but everytime she visits, she swears that she notices something new. Today, it’s the fact that in the absence of his parents— the house is distinctly Steve. In small ways, but it’s there. Some of his clothes strewn around, shoes at the entryway, blanket thrown haphazardly over the couch.
Steve himself, is looking at her, a bit unsure of how to proceed. He really hadn’t anticipated getting this far. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom.” He offers.
“You didn’t ask me to stay over so that I could stay in the guest bedroom, Steve.”
At that, his face flushes and he’s immediately shaking his head like she’s got the complete wrong idea. Surely she can’t believe he expect her to hook up with him or something?! He panics at the thought, god, this is going terribly. “I did not invite you just to—”
“Don’t be so perverted.” She swats his arm, scowling at him. “That’s not what I mean’t, weirdo.” Her own face has warmed at the implications of his words. She grows quiet, looking away from him, a tad embarrassed now. “I meant the fact that you clearly haven’t been sleeping. You want company, don’t you?”
It makes perfect sense. If she was having nightmares, unable to sleep, having someone at her side would help her sleep. Knowing there’s some real at your side brings a sense of security like no other. And that feeling of safety is scarce these days. So, she gets it.
If possible, Steve’s face reddens further. “I—” He contemplates denying it, but quickly realizes any efforts to pretend thats not what he wanted would be fruitless. He practically deflates, evading her gaze. “I mean, that would be nice. But I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” Comes his quiet admission.
She shakes her head, waving off his concerns. “I wouldn’t have agreed to stay if I wasn’t willing.”
He swallows, nervous now. Why is he nervous? It’s fine. This is what he wanted. Now, he just had to not fuck it up, he can manage that. “Right.” He breathes out. “Right. Sure. C’mon we can go to my room. I’ll give you a change of clothes and stuff.”
This time, she follows him up the stairs, watching him carefully. As they enter his room— Steve immediately goes to rummage through his dressers in search of something for her to wear. Settling on a shirt of his and some basketball shorts.
“Thanks.” She says when he hands it to her. She parts her lips, closes them. “I—” She purses her lips, and Steve listens intently, like he always does. “It’s just me.” Are the words she settles on. “You don’t have to be nervous or anything. I can still leave if—”
Immediately, he’s shaking his head. Cutting her off, “no, no, no. No, that’s not what I want at all.” He says, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly. “Sorry, I just— you can be really forward.” He breathes out with a laugh. “Which is good. It’s really good. It helps.” Steve quickly adds, clearing his throat as if that will fix the tight feeling he has in his chest. “I’m glad you’re here. Really.”
Y/N nods, offering him a small smile. “Alright.”
Admittedly, Steve can’t help but feel a bit.. Awkward. His relationship with Y/N has always been odd to say the least, the type of undefined that leaves you wondering if maybe it’s all one sided and you’re deluding yourself. It’s the ambiguity of it all that leaves him nervous. Steve has never been one to do things halfway. And this moment, here and now, having her in his bedroom, getting ready to sleep in his bed. There’s no ambiguity there, no halfway, it’s not one of those things he can play off because it’s not something friends ever do.
They’re close, they always have been. Having known each other since they were kids, she’d moved out of Hawkins with her family for a few years but they’d ended up moving back midway through high school— where she’d connected with her former childhood friend who’d been in the midst of being the school’s resident douchebag.
It’d taken a while to return to a point of friendship that resembled that of when they were kids. And ultimately, things weren’t the same, they couldn’t be. They were older now, and things were different.
Steve vaguely wonders if it’s his fault they’ve ended up in this odd in between territory. Y/N had been there to witness his many (somewhat pathetic) attempts at winning back Nancy’s affections. Perhaps the anxiety that he was the guy who’d never get over his ex is what held them here, in a place where they touch and talk in a way that’s just outside the boundary of friendship, but never crossing the line of something more.
He’s drawn from his thoughts when the bathroom door opens to reveal her, now changed into his clothes. It would be a lie to say it doesn’t make his chest tighten— to see her in his clothes.
“You gonna change?”
Right, he should do that. Steve finds himself nodding rapidly, grabbing his own pajamas. “You can make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to his bed, which he finds himself scruntinizing at this point in time. He should’ve organized his room more earlier today, but then again, he hadn’t realized this is where he’d end up.
She watches him disappear into the bathroom, looking to his bed. She can feel her own face warm at the idea. Okay, she and Steve had hung out plenty of times. On this very bed! It was completely innocent, the only difference was that they’d be sleeping.
So, why the hell did this feel almost criminal?
She tries to push those thoughts away, peeling back the covers, she adjusts the pillows a bit to her liking. Soft. It’s really soft. Which makes sense, Steve’s family has the money for stupidly comfortable silk sheets and pillows. She finds herself collapsing back into the plush of his bed. Her eyes fluttering shut, exhaustion seems to wash over her as she finally finds herself somewhere comfortable. While crawls were typically uneventful, that didn’t change the fact that driving around aimlessly for almost 2 hours was tiring.
A soft laugh is what disrupts her comfort, her eyes fluttering open as she shifts to look at Steve— clearly amused by the sight of her so comfortable on his bed. “Comfortable?”
She flips him off.
He only laughs again, rounding the bed, he slips under the covers with only a mere moment of hesitation. And Steve really does make his best effort to keep a respectful distance, stiff as a board as he fluffs his pillow a bit. Trying to occupy his hands and his mind.
“Lights?” Is all she asks.
Steve only nods as he reaches over to his nightstand to shut off his light, leaving the room in almost total darkness save for the moonlight that streams in from between his curtains.
She shifts a bit in an effort to get more comfortable. Trying to find a way to fill the silence, because she’s not necessarily ready to sleep yet, not with the countless questions weighing on her mind. At the top of that list is what exactly has been keeping him up at night— though she’s sure it’s the nightmares. She doesn’t have any idea past that.
Well, there’s no time like the present.
“Haven’t been sleeping?” Her voice is soft, a bit tentative as she broaches the topic. Unsure how receptive he’ll be to her prodding.
Steve swallows at the mention of his very obvious insomnia. “Not particularly well.” Is all he offers her, laying down on the pillow, he sighs. Feeling the exhaustion wash over him in waves.
She hums softly, shifting a bit on the bed to face him more directly, “wanna talk about it?” It’s a simple offer, he doesn’t half to. But she knows Steve, she knows that he let’s things like this eat him up inside, let’s them build and build. If he doesn’t get it out, he’ll never sleep.
A part of him really doesn’t want to talk about it. Half of the time, he wakes up without a clue of what had been plaguing his nightmares. Not that he needs to remember. He knows what he’s dreaming about, he knows what he’s scared of.
“It’s just— nightmares, y’know.” His response is hushed, a secret for only the two of them.
“I know.” She murmurs back, just as quiet. “All of this is scary. It makes sense. After everything.” Their lives certainly aren’t normal, they haven’t been for years now. To experience what they had and come out of it without nightmares would be scarier.
He huffs, a bit frustrated, tries to meet her gaze in the dark. “It feels like no one else is scared of this stuff.” He pauses, opening his mouth, closing it. “I dont— I don’t know if I’m just a coward or—”
“You’re not.” She responds immediately, cutting him off. “I don’t think I know anyone braver, Steve.” She sighs, brows furrowing a bit. “Nobody wants to talk about this stuff, it makes it real.” She tries to explain, pursing her lips and reaching out blindly until her hand finds his, she intertwines their fingers hesitantly. “I don’t think any of us sleep well anymore.”
He’s quiet for a moment, nodding slowly. “I guess.” He breathes out. “I just—” His voice cracks and he grimaces at the sound. “I don’t know. I feel so weak.”
She squeezes his hand. “You and me both.” She murmurs. “But we’re only human, Steve. It’s okay to be weak.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” A sigh, he looks at her, the moonlight framing her face in a way that’s just right. “Thanks for staying the night.” He says it quietly, because he really is grateful. He hasn’t even fallen asleep yet but a part of him already knows that this will probably be the best night of rest he’s gotten in a while.
“Course.” She responds softly.
For a moment he just stares at her. His eyes darting over her face as he absorbs her words. Taking in the sight of her. Eventually, hesitantly, he reaches out, hand coming to hover over her hip. “Can I…” He trails off, unsure of how to express what it is he wants.
Close. He wants to be closer. Wants her in his arms. Wants to feel her against him, something real. He wants so badly, a part of him thinks it hurts.
She nods, a wordless response. She shifts closer and his hand slips to her back to tug her further against him. Her body molding against his and finding comfort in his warmth.
“Better?”
“Better.”
She hums softly, pressing her face into his chest. Steve leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks.” He repeats quietly.
She doesn’t respond, simply pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “Goodnight, Steve.”
Steve, to his own surprise, sleeps through the night for the first time in weeks. He awakens to the sunlight glaring through his curtains, straight in his face. Rolling over to try and hide from the burning light, he’s quickly reminded he has a visitor when his face winds up against something solid. His eyes open, half lidded and blurry, he quickly realizes he’s found sanctuary from the brightness against Y/N’s back. Content with this realization, he grumbles sleepily, simply pressing his face further against her to hide from the daylight. He shifts slightly, to get a glimpse of her before he goes back to sleep.
She’s still asleep, her hair splayed out around her, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She’s curled up on her side, face buried into the pillows. Her lashes kiss her skin as she sleeps and she just looks beautiful. That’s the only word to use, the only one that’s appropriate for how she seems right now.
Steve, for the first time in a while, finds that he feels at peace.
He could certainly get used to this.