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Steve Harrington was not stupid.
The people who heard that coming from Nancy Wheeler probably thought that was her just being nice when they asked her why she had dated the meathead jock with great hair.
And they would have been right, at first.
But the thing is, that Nancy was also far from stupid, so it didn't take long for her to catch up.
It was on one of those days when she decided to sit in "the Popular table", just quietly nodding and smiling when she was addressed, and trying to not bring attention to herself.
"So, where are we going to celebrate after the game?" Someone had asked.
"My house, as always, duh." Steve had answered.
"Actually, Harrington," said one of the guys from the basketball team at the end of the table. "I was thinking, it's time for a change of scenery, don't you think?, My folks just finished remodeling, we now have a billiard table, and I got the key to my Dad's alcohol cabinet."
There had been a change in Steve's body language; if she were not seated at his side, she may not have even noticed; he was still looking relaxed and nonchalant, but his shoulders had straightened.
"Oh, but what about our traditional after game splash. We need a pool for that, remember?"
"It's too cold for that, man!" the guy fired back. "Besides, we are closer to the Lake at my place."
Some murmurs were supporting the other guy's idea, and something clicked for Nancy. It wasn't about the place, the Homecoming game was especially important, and whoever got to host the after-party would gain a lot good will from the student population. It was a power struggle.
But what caught her attention was Carol's chuckle and smirk at her side; she likely saw Nancy's confused look and leaned slightly to whisper close to her. "Here it comes."
"Are you sure its a good idea, man?" Steve plastered a sharp smile. "I mean, with your Dad's alcohol cabinet unsupervised, we don't want a repeat of last year's Christmas party, right?"
At that, the other guy visibly tensed.
"Hope you remember to have moderation, I heard you made quite the show, heard you also assaulted your poor Dad's cabinet." The other guy lost color, opening his mouth and looking around to beg someone to help him out. No one did. " But don't feel bad, that's common with cheap booze." Carol let out a cruel cackle at that.
"That's not–"
"Don't worry about it, Alan." He directed at him one last glare before relaxing again into his chair and adressing all the table. "My old man recently got a supply of Pilsner, you know, expensive imported stuff, you guys probably haven't heard of it. That's why I was thinking of using it for our big celebration."
The enthusiastic cheers at the promise of overpriced fancy beer quickly followed.
"So, leave the hosting to me, all right?"
And it ended, the tension finally leaving the air, and the multiple conversations went back to normal. Nancy stole a glance at Alan, and she couldn't help to sent him a sympathetic look at the way he had deflated, subtly making himself smaller.
She couldn't help but think she had just witnessed–
"I wasn't expecting to have an execution so soon in the morning," Carol whispered to Tommy with cheer.
"Those never get old. I almost feel bad for the poor guy."
"I don't, you would think they would learn at this point." Carol took a sip of her diet soda. "He is not the first and certainly not the last."
If you had told Robin a year ago that she would get to fight monsters from another world and become best friends with her sworn enemy Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, Past Robin would have more chance to believe the part about the monsters.
Still, she ended up finding her platonic soul-mate, her other half, her soulbonded brother in the dingus, and she wouldn't trade him for the world.
She would follow him to the end of the earth.
But, really, a high school party?
So there she was, awkwardly standing beside the punch table in the house of a complete stranger, surrounded by sweaty, slightly drunk people and loud music.
The only reason she was excited to go, being Vicky, was not present either, and her ride home had disappeared to who knows where.
A-ma-zing.
She should find a nice, quiet corner to sulk and people-watch while also looking for her ride–Oop!
Some guys from the basketball team were being their usual caveman selves and pushing and shoving each other. One came dangerously close to Robin, making her lose balance. She tried to save her glass of punch, and that made her accidentally push someone with her own shoulder.
"Watch it, idiot!" The girl schreeched.
"I'm so, so, so sorry. I didn't see you there." Robin apologized and turned to see the person she had almost tackled. She grimaced at seeing it was Margaret Wilson.
Margaret sneered at her, dusting herself off like trying to get rid of Robin's cooties.
"Yeah, I can see that. Ugh, what a spaz," she rolled her eyes. "What are you even doing here?"
"Oh, Steve invited me."
"Oh, right!, You are his latest conquest. Guess there were no more pretty girls left in Hawkins, and he had to broaden his horizons."
Robin was more offended at the idea that people saw her as Steve's conquest, than at the insult to her looks.
"No, no, no, it's not like that!"
"Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that–"
And then, like an angel with excessive hairspray, Steve appeared beside her.
"Hey, girls! How's it going?" He said, subtly shielding Robin behind him. "What's the issue?"
"Hi, Steve," Margaret smiled sweetly. "Nothing, I was just enjoying the party when your girl very rudely crashed into me."
"Auch, sorry, Mags, but I'm sure it was all an accident, right Robin?"
With the presence of her friend, Robin felt some confidence come back. "Yes, totally, that's what I was saying, there was this guy that almost crashed into me and I–"
"And Robin and I are not like that," Steve interrupted her rambling. "We are just friends. Platonic with capital P."
But Margaret just gave her a patronizing look. "How cute, you really want to make her believe that."
Something seemed to shift in Steve's face; the open, goofy smile she came to associate with her best friend was nowhere in sight. Instead, the smile remained, but there was something colder, calculating even. It made a shiver run down her spine.
"Yes, Margaret. We are friends, you know how that goes, right? Having friends."
"Of course," she scoffed, but now more guarded, like she had also noticed the shift and brased herself. Full on defensive mode.
"Right, Robin is cool, you would probably get along."
Margaret scoffed. "Sure."
Robin agreed; she was confident that was never going to happen.
"You know, we could probably do a little get together, like, me, you, Robin, Casey, and her boyfriend, Erick."
Margaret's eyes opened slightly at hearing the latter names.
And Steve's sugary sweet smile did nothing but widen.
"Oh, don't tell me, she is still not talking to you? I thought you guys were inseparable. Like best friends since eighth grade." He said with fake surprise, his tone getting louder with each word. Gaining the attention of those nearby. "But again, after what happened with Erick, it doesn't surprise me. Really, Mags? Sleeping with him at her party."
Robin could see the way the music lowered in volume and how they were now being surrounded by the not-so-subtle eavesdroppers.
Steve put a hand on his hip, and all eyes went to him, easily commanding the attention of the room to his every movement.
And in a flick of an eye, Robin was reminded of why her dingus had been called "King" once.
"Of course, I don't believe that, but you know rumors spiral. Besides, Erick doesn't really seem to be your type."
"Her type seems to be her friend's boyfriends." And Robin's poor brain-to-mouth filter made its appearance. Immediately after, she covered her mouth with a hand, but the damage had been done. She heard a chorus of 'Ohhs' all around, and Margaret looked redder than the spiked punch.
Steve playfully put an arm around her shoulder.
"Robs! Thats sooo mean." He laughed with fake offense, then he straightened himself. It seemed like he wasn't done yet.
"I'm sure it was all a big misunderstanding," his eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe with an unimpressed look.
"All three times."
Those last words settled into the room with the weight of a guillotine falling.
Surrounded by gossip, gasps, and whispers, Margaret quickly gave a hateful look to both of them before mumbling something about 'Needing some air', shoving people on her way to the door.
And just like that, the party returned to normal, the room filling with laughs and cheerful talk, with Robin still firmly in place.
What had just happened?
A few minutes later, after Steve had successfully gotten her into the Beemer and her brain had time to process, she finally spoke.
"That was amazing!"
Steve, at her side, smiled. "Yeah, I told you you would have fun. Look at you, Party Animal Buckley."
"Huh? Oh, right, that was fine too, but I was talking about that whole situation with Margaret."
"What about it?"
"You know, I used to have nightmares about being at the end of one, but being at the other side of one of your famous executions? Wow, I understand now why you guys were addicted, you feel a rush!"
"My famous what–"
"This has the potential to be dangerously addictive, so promise not to do it too often, dingus."
"–Promise to do what?!"
"Don't fall again into the Dark side. Promise me, Steven!"
"Ok, ok! I promise to… whatever that means."
"Great," Robin said and relaxed with her face against the window glass.
They both fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the quiet of the night, before Robin broke it again.
"Steve."
"Yes, Robin?"
"Thanks for having my back down there," she said, still looking outside. "I was ready to either run or pee my pants."
"No problem. She was being an asshole to you; someone needed to calm her down. I'm also sure Casey will send me a gift basket once she hears word of it."
Past Robin would probably never, in a million years, believe it was possible for her to feel any fondness for one Steve Harrington. But present Robin believes it's just bound to keep growing
"Anyways, thanks, dingus."
"Anytime, Buckley."
Lucas never really had a strong opinion on Steve.
One day, he was hearing Mike bitch about how it was possible for his sister to be dating a meathead jock, and the other he is listening to Dustin gushing about how absolutely badass he was with his nail-bat. Its not that he didn't trust him, after what happened, he was pretty sure he would confide in Steve with his life, it's just that he didn't know a lot about the guy.
To be fair, between those days, he also was also simultaneously dealing with multiple crazy and dangerous stuff so his opinions on the teen were not really top priority.
But now, he was gaining multiple points on his books.
"So you can really help me practice?" He asked, leaning to the front with his hands on the back of the driver's seat.
"Sure, Sinclair, you are talking with the former co-captain of the Hawkins basketball team. With my help, you will never be on the bench again." He said, making a turn onto the street of the Wheeler residence.
Lucas beamed at him from the back until he heard Mike groan to his side.
"You guys spend talking about basketball all the way here."
"We also have days where we talk nothing but DnD." Steve pointed.
"Yes, but we all play D&D, only you two like sports."
"I don't play D&D." Countered Steve.
"Irrelevant," Mike responded.
Lucas and Dustin—who had quietly been toying with a radio until now- gave him a look and looked ready to make a comeback, but Steve beat him to change the subject.
"By the way, I'm glad you liked the new shirts, Wheeler. You look good in my style."
Mike lifted a brow. "What are you talking about?"
Steve started to park in front of the Wheeler residence. "See, a week ago I bumped into Mrs. Wheeler, and we had a really pleasant chat, you know, she told me she was looking to get new clothes for her growing babies."
Lucas and Dustin snickered while Mike scowled.
"And I told her that I still had some good quality shirts in perfect condition that I feel would fit our old Mike perfectly, and she seemed enthusiastic at the idea. I'm glad to know I was right."
Mike now looked horrified. "You are shitting me."
"Of course not. In fact, that shirt you are wearing right now was one of my favorites; you are looking good, and GAP is always a classic."
Mike tried to subtly check the brand of the shirt, but Dustin beat him to it, taking out the tag behind Mike's neck.
"It's true!" He announced with a laugh.
"Stop that." Mike brushed Dustin away and flew out of the car, closing the door with force. "You are full of shit, Harrington."
"Ask Nancy or your mom!" He shouted and gave Mike a last mocking wave before starting to drive away.
Lucas and Dustin laughed until the Wheeler house was left behind.
"I can't believe he was using your clothes!" Dustin said, cleaning the tears on the corner of his eyes.
"Oh, no, those were not mine."
"What? But you said–"
"I did give Ms. Wheeler some stuff, but those were clothes of my parents, they probably forgot they bought them and were practically new. So when I went to leave the box, Ms. Wheeler just happened to mention she just arrived from the store and showed me the stuff she chose for Mike and Holly." He said with his eyes on the road, but on the rearview mirror, Lucas could distinguish a familiar glint in his gaze, one that reminded him of Erika when she had gotten away with stuff.
"But what if Nancy tells him?"
"Nah, if it's to mess with Mike, Nance will back me up."
"Ok, but why did you lie?
"He was getting on my nerves," he said, shrugging. "Besides, he was being so rude, like what's his problem if Sinclair wants to play basketball. Who cares?"
Lucas agreed and couldnt help but smile, it was nice to know he had someone on his corner about this.
"And what if we tell him?" Dustin asked, curiously.
"Will you?" Steve asked, looking at them through the rearview mirror.
"Maybe…" Lucas muttered, to then remember Mike's incessant complaining.
"Probably," Dustin said, to then give Lucas a knowing look.
They both seemed to come to the same conclusion.
"Eventually." Both declared.
Harrington smiled like he expected that outcome, and he finally gave up.
Alright, Lucas had made up his mind.
Steve was cool.
"Are you guys coming to the game tonight?" Dustin asked once their sesion finished. The rest of the club looked hesitant, unsure of what to say until Eddie spoke.
"Sorry Henderson, but I'm not sure I'm ready to hear another speech from Princeling Carver."
"Who knows, maybe his minions will start to kidnap people for Carver to have an audience for his morning preaching." The remaining members of the club snickered.
"Lucas said he is cool." Dustin defended.
"Sinclair is on the team, of course, he will say that." Eddie rolled his eyes while putting away the thing from the session.
"At least he's better than the last King," Gareth mentioned.
"Well, it's not hard to be better than Hargrove. The bar was in hell." Jeff commented with disgust, clearly not the biggest fan of the late Billy Hargrove.
"Yes, the last two kings really made one miss Harrington's reign," Eddie commented, like someone reviving old times.
"How was Steve?" Dustin asked, always curious about anything Steve Harrington related.
Gareth smirked. "Oh, I'm sure Eddie will be more than happy to tell you. He even has a whole ass thesis."
"It's for scientific curiosity!" Eddie defended and then came to sit, taking out a notepad. He cleared his throat, looking at the rest of the club like he was ready to deliver great wisdom to his followers.
"Ok, so what makes Jason Carver the new top dog of Hawkins?"
"He is a jock?" Mike said, looking unsure of what Eddie's point was.
"Correct, Hawkins' basketball team captain, a total Boy Scout with a happy relationship with sweet Queen Chrissy." He said, making notes. "He has control over the jocks and has a good reputation with the staff and around the town as a good God-fearing American boy."
"But, that's the extent of his influence. Other than the jocks, he doesn't really have that much control over the rest of the school. A lot actually don't really like his preaching and judgment, he doesn't really interact with the female population and Chrissy is too sweet to really get into gossip and rumors, so the royal couple are mostly unawere of the happenins outside of ther inner circle."
Eddie took a sip of soda to hydrate his throat. "It works because he is currently in a winning streak, and no one has really come to challenge his rule. But he mostly just naturally occupied the vacant place." He wrote Carver's name at the top of the page, and underneath, he listed his "selling points."
"Jock-loyalty", "Good American boy", and "Chrissy".
"Now, Hargrove is another story."
He wrote the name in big, messy letters.
"Hargrove had the advantage of being the new exciting thing at the moment, an attractive guy coming from sunny California with golden hair and a love for showing abs even in the cold climate of Indiana." He made a little drawing of a toned chest. "Being good at sports and summing up his "bad boy" image, he was practically fresh, delicious meat, and everyone wanted a piece of that."
"And then, people found out he was a psycho." Jeff followed with a frown.
Eddie flinched. "Yeah, once the novelty started to wear off, the admiration turned more into, well, fear for a lot of people," He admitted, remembering how even he was starting to fear his ability to protect his band of merrymen if Hargrove ever decided they were a target. "Not even the jocks were free of that, and the general population and staff were not his biggest fans. Girls still liked him, but really few of them would actually take him home. Still, thanks to that he was more aware of what happened in school than Carver, at least to know if someone was trying to contest his rule."
He wrote the words "Fear", "Strenght" and "Abs" under Billy's name.
"Yeah, he sucked." Mike echoed, and multiple voices in the room agreed with the sentiment.
"And here is my theory, I believe King Steve would have eventually gotten back his crown from Hargrove if he had wanted."
He made a dramatic pause, but the club mostly looked confused, besides Gareth, who just sighed and robotically said, "Ellaborate."
"Glad you asked, my friend!" Eddie said with a slight manic gaze. "See, the thing with Harrington is that he wielded the power a bit more elegantly. He was a member of not one, not two, but three teams. Both where he was captain, the basketball and swimming teams, so the jocks mostly had his back, he was also kind of a heartthrob, but the one you actually want to take home to your parents; and even the teachers were charmed by him with a single look of those big Bambi eyes."
"Bambi eyes?" Mike muttered.
"Seems simple, right?, even innocent, until you start to dig deeper." Eddie took another sip of his soda. "Harrington was not only into sports, he was also in like a gazillion clubs, did you know he was in the Student Council, Key Club, Future Business Leaders, Prom Comittee and often chaperoned the school dances?"
"No," said Dustin, looking surprised.
"Not exactly the curriculum you would expect from him. And that made him know at least someone in every sphere of the peasant population, which also meant he had eyes and ears in almost every corner of the school. Add to that that one of his closest lackeys was Carol Perkins, with hair full of secrets, and you end up with—"
"An information network." Dustin interrupted him, coming to a realization.
"Exactly, Henderson," he highlighted the word, "but that's not everything, unlike the other kings, Harrington was also dirt rich, so he had the resources to reward loyalty. You helped him, helped with homework, gave him a good pass, or dirt on someone, and you will have the honor of being invited to one of his parties."
"Some people would have eaten their own leg in exchange for being invited to one of those pool parties, that's how big of a deal it was." One of the Hellfire members muttered, Dustin couldn't distinguish who exactly.
"So, you have a King who is generally likable, with manpower enough to back him up, information at his disposal, and the resources enough to keep the lackeys happy serving him." He wrote the words "Charm", "Information Network", "Bambi eyes", and "Stinky rich".
"But that's not all, remember how I told you Harrington wielded that power more elegantly? Besides all of this," he signaled the words on the paper under Steve's name. "Harrington was good at reading people, and he knew how to use that."
"Oh, the famous executions."
"What?!"
"Not in the literal sense, guys." Eddie clarified. "But I guess for those poor folks, it did feel like that; he would tear down someone with just words and a friendly smile, all in the open, so when he was done with his victim, everyone else could feast on the remains. They were so famous, we peasants started to call them "public executions".
"The fun thing about the executions was that it wasn't for us outcasts and losers. It was for his own aristocracy. Sometimes, one of them would mistake the friendly airhead attitude for weakness and would try to dethrone him. Cross the line, and King Steve would use all the dirt, rumors, and a silver tongue to make the poor fool a social pariah for a while." Gareth followed, now looking more amused by the faces of the freshies.
"I had to admit, some were fun to see but others, auch. Some club members used the executions as inspiration every time they had to use Vicious Mockery." Eddie flinched while writing "Psychological warfare" under "Bambi eyes."
And Dustin remained still, his brain processing all the new information. And a lot of pieces about his friend started to fall into place. He couldn't help but feel a bit proud about his friend's personal growth, but also, he had to admit, King with a silver tongue was a cool title to have. Maybe he could convince Eddie to add it to a campaign, if he hadn't done it yet.
"You do seem to know a lot about Harrington," Gareth said casually.
A blush crept into Eddie's face. "I told you it's for academic curiosity!"
"I think you guys are just exaggerating," Mike said, crossing his arms. "I mean, really, A master of psychological warfare? Steve Harrington? Does he even know what those words mean?"
Dustin subtly looked at Mike's shirt, clearly now a size too small and barely covering his belly button; his Hellfire shirt was probably in the wash.
It had been two weeks, and he was still refusing to use any of his new clothes. Dustin tried to contain a laugh.
"I don't know, I think I can see it."