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It’s over. Vecna is dead, the Upside Down is destroyed, and the party - well, most of the party - is safe. El’s death hangs heavy in their heads and hearts as they begin to transition from end-of-the-world battle mode to normal, boring, everyday life mode. It isn’t an easy transition necessarily. Nightmares are a common occurrence, and there’s an unspoken rule about answering the phone in the middle of the night. All calls are answered without question, and without judgment.
So, when Jonathan awakes one night, screaming and drenched in sweat, he doesn’t hesitate to clamber out of bed and down the hall to where the phone hangs on the kitchen wall. He grips the receiver in one shaky hand, dialing the number he now knows by heart with the other. The phone begins to ring, the sound shrill in his ear in a way that makes his already aching head pound.
“Hello?” comes a sleepy voice.
“Steve?” Jonathan breathes, sagging against the wall.
“Jonathan?” Steven replies. “Everything alright?”
Jonathan sighs. “Not really. Had a dream.”
“The same one?”
He nods, before remembering Steve can’t see him. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry.”
“No apologies, remember?” Steve’s voice is soft, gentle. It makes tears well up in Jonathan’s eyes. “It’s okay, man. I’m here, I’m safe. You caught me. You saved me.”
Jonathan squeezes his eyes shut, remnants of a dream mixing with memory. The group at the top of the radio tower, a planet descending on their heads. The way the tower shook and swayed, the crunching of metal, then Steve falling off the side. It had happened in an instant, Jonathan throwing himself forward, reaching out, grasping at air, and then, inexplicably, catching Steve’s hand.
In the dream it happens differently. Jonathan doesn’t make it in time. He reaches the end of the platform and looks over it to see Steve, face frozen in terror as he falls, and falls. Jonathan cries out, he heaves with sobs. He wakes up just before Steve reaches the ground.
“I almost didn’t.” Jonathan’s breath hitches.
“But you did. I’m here. Hear my voice? I’m a hundred percent a-okay.” Steve pauses. “Well, maybe not a hundred. Those demobats took a decent chunk.”
“That’s not helping, Steve.”
“Sorry, sorry. I mean it, though. I’m okay, because of you. Have I thanked you for that recently? I think it’s been a few days so, thank you, again.”
Jonathan laughs wetly, wiping at the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Yeah, I think you’ve thanked me enough, man.”
“Not possible,” Steven retorts. “I think I’m gonna owe you for life on that one.”
Jonathan doesn’t reply, and they fall silent. A few feet away the fridge hums faintly, audible only in the quiet of the night.
“Jonathan? Did you disappear on me?”
“I’m here. Just…” he trails off.
“Yeah.” Steve agrees. Jonathan is sure Steve doesn’t really know what he’s agreeing to, but he appreciates the sentiment.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, man,” Steve says automatically. “Anytime.”
“Are you still coming to the movie night tonight?” Jonathan doesn’t know why he cares - (that’s a lie, he definitely knows) - but he suddenly needs to know the answer.
“It’s at my house, Jonathan, of course I’ll be there.”
“Right. Of course. Duh. I’ll uh, I’ll see you there,” he says lamely. He cringes, smacking himself in the forehead.
“I’ll see you there, Jonathan.” Steve’s voice sounds almost fond, and Jonathan needs to hang up immediately.
“Okay. Cool. Awesome. Bye.” He slams the receiver down and immediately presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, groaning.
Jonathan can’t pinpoint when these feelings for Steve developed, but sometime over the months since the final battle, they had. It started as simply needing to hear the other man’s voice, to know he was alive when the nightmares got too bad and Jonathan was plagued with images of his enemy-turned-friend plunging to his death. He didn’t mean to start to enjoy the calls. Sometimes they talk about whatever comes to their minds, sometimes they simply sit in silence, but it always ends with Jonathan’s heart beating a little faster, and a familiar sort of energy buzzing under his skin, like adrenaline but more addicting. The same sort of energy he used to get when he and Nancy first started dating.
The problem is, Jonathan has never liked a guy before. Sure, he has no problem with gay people in general, but he’s never ascribed that label to himself. He’s like a few girls, so there was never any reason to think he could ever like a guy. He isn’t even sure it’s supposed to be possible to like a guy if he also likes girls, but he knows he can’t deny that he likes Steve. And on top of all that he’s almost certain Steve doesn’t like guys in the least bit, if his frequent dates with various women is any indication. (Though he’s pretty sure Steve hasn’t had a date since everything ended, and it’s been months. He refuses to analyze this fact.)
So, his sudden, unbidden crush on Steve The Hair Harrington is proving to be a giant, confusing dilemma that he has no idea what to do about. It wouldn’t be so bad if Jonathan could just be cool, but no, he has to be awkward and weird, no doubt making his budding feelings obvious to anyone who cares enough to analyze the way he can’t quite meet Steve’s eyes without his face flushing tomato red.
With a heavy sigh Jonathan heads back to bed, curling up under the comforter and resolutely not thinking about Steve. He manages to get a few more hours of fitful sleep before he gives up and decides to get up for the day and head to work. He managed to get another job at the Hawkins Post developing photos, despite how disastrous it had turned out last time. The new owner had listened to his explanations and pleas and agreed to give him a second chance, on a probationary basis of course.
Jonathan spends several hours in the dark room, working well past the time he normally gets off. He tells himself he just wants to get ahead on his work, but the truth is that he’s nervous for that evening and the process of developing is a good distraction. Eventually, though, he runs out of photos to develop and, glancing at the clock, he realizes he’s late for the movie night. He curses to himself as he gathers his things and rushes out to his car.
His nerves grow as he drives, knowing he’ll be seeing Steve in a matter of minutes. He has full blown butterflies in his stomach by the time he pulls up at the Harrington house. He parks and spends the walk up to the door trying to get ahold of himself. He doesn’t knock, as is customary for Steve. He has an open door policy for all members of the party, as long as they phone first to make sure he’s actually home and not busy.
Jonathan pushes open the door and steps into the house, instantly being greeted with loud shouts and laughter coming from the lounge. He follows the noise to find Dustin and Mike standing in the middle, arguing intently while Will, Lucas, and Max cut in occasionally from the couch with witty remarks or to defend one of the boys when their insults get a little too pointed. Robin is seated in one of the overly large armchairs, with Nancy perched on the arm as they watch the interaction, amused by the antics.
And then his eyes fall on Steve, and his heart thumps. Steve is lounging on the loveseat, arm draped over the back. He’s watching the argument, too, his face split into a wide, fond grin. His hair is perfectly coiffed, one strand hanging over his forehead just so, and the light hits his face in a way that steals Jonathan’s breath. Steve shakes his head, bemused, then his eyes slide over to Jonathan. Jonathan didn’t think it was possible for someone’s face to light up the way Steve’s does, and he ignores the swoop in his stomach at the sight.
He’s always happy to see his friends, he tells himself.
“Jonathan!” Steve calls, gesturing to the spot next to him on the loveseat. “I saved you a spot!”
This seems to catch the arguing boys’ attention because they instantly stop yelling and turn to Steve and Jonathan.
“Yeah, he was weirdly aggressive about it, too,” Dustin says. “He practically shoved me out of it.”
“He yelled at me for setting a VHS on it,” Mike adds. “ A measly little VHS!”
“Shut up,” Steve grumbles, flipping off the pair. “I wanted to make sure he actually had a spot to sit and you vultures didn’t leave him to the floor again.”
Jonathan thinks he might be imagining things, but Steve’s cheeks look just the tiniest bit pink as his eyes dart over to Jonathan’s and then down to the floor. He clears his throat, stepping around the loveseat and lowering himself into the seat. Steve doesn’t move his arm, and Jonathan’s heart continues pounding as he registers the heat of Steve being so close to him.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, flashing Steve a small smile.
Steve nods, returning his smile with a gentle one of his own. “Of course. Can’t let my savior be uncomfortable.”
Jonathan ducks his head to hide his blush, and Dustin makes a gagging sound.
“Ugh, gag me with a spoon. Can you guys flirt somewhere else?”
“We’re not flirting,” Jonathan says at the same time that Steve says, “It’s my house, Henderson.”
He didn’t deny it, Jonathan thinks, dazed.
“And we’re guests here!” Dustin rebuts. “We’re just children, are you really going to expose our sensitive eyes to your mating ritual?”
“You’ve seen worse,” Steve says nonchalantly.
Jonathan’s head is spinning. Steve is definitely just joking, right? Jonathan doesn’t know what would possibly possess Steve to joke about flirting with him, but that’s definitely all it is. Steve is straight. Steve is definitely, 100% straight. He repeats it a few times in his head as he takes a deep breath to pull himself together. But Steve is still next to him, still has his arm behind him, practically around him, and Jonathan can’t breathe.
“I gotta -” he starts, not finishing his thought as he jumps to his feet and makes a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
Once alone he leans on a counter, burying his face in his hands as he fights the urge to groan, to scream, to something.
“Sorry about them.”
Jonathan startles, jumping and whipping around to see Steve in the doorway looking sheepish.
“I know Dustin can be a little much. I promise I told him not to make a big deal of things. I honestly don’t know how he picked up on it, but I guess being scarily perceptive comes with being a genius. I can tell him never to bring it up again. Hell, I’ll never bring it up again if you don’t want me to. Just say the word and it’ll be like this whole conversation never happened. I just really, really don’t want you to stop being my friend because now that we are friends it’s really, really nice. Amazing, actually. I love our conversations and you make me laugh, like a lot, and -“
“Steve!” Jonathan exclaims.
“Sorry,” Steve says instantly. “I’m rambling, I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jonathan says, “I’m just incredibly confused right now. What exactly did Dustin pick up on?”
Steve’s face falls, and Jonathan instantly regrets whatever he said to put such a devastated expression on Steve Harrington’s face.
“Oh. I thought you knew. I thought I was being like, so painfully obvious.” Steve chuckles nervously, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what you’re talking about here.” Jonathan steps forward a few steps, Steve eyeing the distance between them warily.
“Okay, um, shit. Just - just remember that I said we can forget about all of this. I’ll never bring it up again, I promise, just please don’t stop being my friend.”
“You’re scaring me Steve.”
“Okay, okay, sorry.” Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking directly into Jonathan’s eyes. “So, the thing is, I kind of have this massive crush on you? And I kind of thought, y’know…” he trails off, shrugging.
“You thought I knew,” Jonathan finishes for him. Relief floods him, and he can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Hurt flashes across Steve’s face and Jonathan immediately sobers. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, or at your feelings,” he assures Steve. “I’m laughing because I’ve been crushing on you for weeks and I’ve been agonizing over trying not to make it too obvious. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable!”
Jonathan chuckles again as Steve’s expression morphs from hurt, to realization, to elation. A chuckle forces its way out of Steve, and then in an instant the both of them are doubled over, laughing so hard tears prickle the corners of their eyes. Slowly their laughter dies down, their sides aching and lungs burning. Jonathan takes the last few steps toward Steve, coming to a stop in front of him. They grin at each other, hands meeting in the middle between them.
“I can’t believe you’ve had a crush on me this whole time,” Jonathan says incredulously.
“Ever since you caught me. I felt like such a fool because I almost died but all I could think about was how hot you looked with your muscles all bulging as you pulled me up from that edge.”
Jonathan ducks his head, flushing. “I realized it the night you sang to me, to pull me out of a panic attack,” he whispers. “I couldn’t believe Steve The Hair Harrington was willing to make a fool out of himself to help a friend in need. I was entranced.”
He looks back up at Steve to find the other man watching him with a mixture of fondness and awe. Slowly, Steve detaches on of his hands from Jonathan’s and raises it to caress his cheek.
“Can I kiss you?”
Jonathan nods, and Steve surges forward, pressing their lips together. The kiss isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle either. The solid press of Steve’s mouth against his has Jonathan reeling. There’s a whisper of stubble on Steve’s chin and he can feel it when he raises his hands to hold his face. It’s different than kissing a girl, but in a very good way. Jonathan thinks distantly that he could do this forever.
Eventually they break for air, pressing their foreheads together as they catch their breaths.
“What that okay?” Steve asks, sounding almost insecure. It’s such a contrast to the easy confidence he always seems to have with girls, and it makes Jonathan want to kiss that insecurity away.
“It was more than okay,” he assures him. “I think I want to do that every day.”
“I think that can be arranged.” Steve grins, leaning in to capture Jonathan’s lips again.
When the pair finally make it back to the lounge their cheeks are flushed and their lips are swollen. Dustin narrows his eyes at them but says nothing as they settle into the love seat, Steve’s arm draped around Jonathan’s shoulders.
“Alright, what movie are we watching?” Steve asks casually, and instantly the rest of the group cease their shocked staring and start arguing over the pile of VHS’s on the coffee table.
Later that night, when Jonathan once again awakes, screaming and drenched in sweat, he simply has to turn over to find Steve, awake and ready to cradle him through the panic.