#Joyce would whisper ‘idiot’ amused under his breath

[ranger-crisis]

How does Ketheric’s beard not get caught on those little spikes in his armor. I know one time he’s being all general-y and tries to move his head, but it gets caught on his armor and everyone starts snickering.

[strangerererthings]

peaches x

Summary: What if Bob had an adopted daughter?  What happens now?

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Disclaimer: I DON’T OWN THIS OR ANYTHING.

Author’s Note: I know this one is a bit short but I really wanted to add in this chapter.  So now there’s going to be one more after this and an epilogue after that.  Feel free to start sending in requests to me for fics and headcanons and such!

Word Count: 1,549

part one/part two/part three/part four/part five/part six/part seven/part eight/part nine/part eleven/epilogue

Thanksgiving was a hit, lasting until almost 11:30 that night.  The night ended with everyone in the living room watching movies until all six kids had passed out in various places.  Joyce was sitting outside with Hopper, whispering and smoking their cigarettes while watching the stars.

“When are they going to cut the shit and get together?” Billy asked, surprising everyone that was still awake, which was you, Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy.  Your hold on his hand tightened as you waited for everyone’s reactions.  Billy may have been getting better, but the others were definitely still skeptical about him.

The tension released, however, when Jonathan burst into laughter.  He threw his head back, causing Nancy and Steve to let out soft peals of laughter to match.  “I agree.”  Jonathan’s arm was wrapped tight around Nancy, pulling her closer to him.

“She just lost Bob.”

Everyone turned to look at Nancy, and then to you, realizing who they were speaking in front of.  You took a long breath in, taking your time.  “She deserves to be happy.  Bob would want that for her...  That’s all he ever wanted.”  You leaned your head against Billy’s shoulder as memories of Bob flooded into your mind.  You spent a lot of energy on trying to ignore what you had lost, keeping it all pent up.  Tears filled your eyes, and you took in a shaky breath.

Billy recognized what was happening immediately and pulled you onto his lap, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly.  “I’ve got you, peaches...  It’s okay to cry...”  His voice was soothing, loving.

It was all you needed to break down.

Your body wracked with your sobs as you curled up further against him.  Your hands clutched onto his shirt, gripping the thin fabric.  Billy could do nothing but hold you, rocking slightly.

Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy were all staring at you, dumbstruck.  “Remember that time Bob came to the school to chew out your English teacher?” Steve said, trying to fill the air with happy memories.  “All because that teacher said that your opinion on the true themes of Romeo and Juliet was wrong?”

You hummed, a small laugh stopping your cries as you wiped your eyes.  Your nose was running and Billy smirked as he wiped it off with a napkin, your cheeks going red.

“Or the time he tried making Will a birthday cake and burnt it to a brick,” Jonathan added with a smirk, running his fingers through his hair.  Nancy smiled wistfully at him, leaning against him.

“He was a good one.”  Your voice cracked several times as you sniffled again, to Billy’s amusement.  “He loved Benny’s Burgers, or when I’d make homemade cookies.  His favorite was oatmeal raisin and I’ll never know why...”  Talking about him finally felt like a weight lifting off your chest.  “He was really, really good at chess.  Any strategy game, he was good at.  He...  He was the one who taught me how to drive and helped get me into my classes at the college.”

“Let’s get you to bed, okay, sweetheart?”  You nodded, and Billy picked you up bridal style.  He was limping slightly as he carried you out of the kitchen and into your room.  He set you on the bed and the three others appeared in the doorway, saying their goodbyes before disappearing.  He began to leave after setting a t-shirt on the bed for you to sleep in.  “Goodnight, peaches.  I’ll see you in the mor--”

“Stay.”

Billy froze in place, slowly turning to look at you.  “What?”

You patted the space next to you, biting your lip.  “Stay with me tonight.”

He shook his head, but was slowly walking to you.  “But Hopper--”

“Hopper will have to understand.”  You stood up and walked to the door, shutting it slowly before walking to Billy.  Your hands tentatively reached for his shirt.  You tugged it up over his head, your eyes immediately going to the bruises covering his torso.  You didn’t say a word, just tentatively tracing your fingers over them.  “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, tilting your head up to look at him.  “There’s nothing to be sorry about, peaches.”  Again with that nickname.  His fingers pushed your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.  “God, you’re stunning...  You know that?”  You kept your eyes down, blushing a deep red as he grabbed your hips, rubbing gentle circles into your skin.  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.  And that’s coming from someone who’s seen Brooke Shields in person.”

You giggled, shaking your head as you looked up at him once again, meeting his eyes.  “You’re...  You’re something else.”  He smirked, kissing you once more before stepping back as you reached for the hem of your shirt.  His eyes went wide as he watched you slowly peel it off of you, tossing it to the ground before you stepped out of your jeans.

What shocked you, though, was when he shook his head.  He grabbed the button up he had worn, pulling it onto you before buttoning it up all the way.  “I love you, Y/N.  This isn’t something I want to rush.”  He kissed your forehead before leading you to the bed and pulling back the covers for you.

“Will you at least sleep here then?”  You looked up at him with huge puppy eyes.  “I don’t want to be alone tonight...”

Billy nodded, coming around the other side of the bed.  He tugged off his own jeans before crawling in beside you.  He pulled you against him so your head was lying on his chest.  “I love you...”

“I love you, too.”  Billy’s steady heartbeat and the feel of his fingers running across your back lulled you to sleep.

Hopper and Joyce were sitting outside in the porch chairs that you had picked out last time you all had been in town, passing a cigarette in between them.  “She belongs here with you.”  Joyce raised her eyebrows at the man beside her, passing him the cigarette.

“She’s reckless and a bit of an idiot.”

She rolled her eyes, pointing at him.  “Exactly.”  She rocked a bit in the chair, shaking her head.  “She really isn’t though, is she?  At least, not most of the time.”

Hopper sighed, glancing back at the front door.  “Only when that boy is involved.”

“That boy is Billy Hargrove, and he’s clawed your way into his heart, don’t deny it.”  She pulled her feet up onto the chair.  “They’re good influences on each other.”

Well, he couldn’t deny that.  Anytime he was around the two of you, you were smiling and having a good time.  You were happy.  Like, truly happy and not just ‘I’m going to pretend to be happy because that’s what everyone expects’ kind of happy.  And since Billy had started hanging around, his grades had gone up and Hopper knew that wasn’t just a coincidence.  When you said you two were going to study, you meant it.  There was no fooling around.  Hell, Billy had taken to studying with El or just watching television with her even while you were working at the record shop.  He didn’t fight as much, and you fought a little bit more, but only when it came to people or things you really loved.  “I just don’t want Y/N to get hurt.”

Joyce shook her head, taking the cigarette from him and taking a long drag.  “He won’t.  He looks at her--”

“The same way I’ve always looked at you.”  Hopper said it so matter-of-factly that Joyce didn’t even know how to reply.  His eyes met hers and he leaned towards her.  “Come on, Joyce.  You had to have known how much you meant--and still mean--to me.  I was crazy about you even in high school.”

She didn’t say anything as she looked down at her hands.

“I know...”  He stood up, stretching a bit as he did.  “I know that it’s too soon after Bob.  But just know that I’ve waited over twenty years and I’d wait another just for you.”  Hopper then went inside, leaving her out there.  His heart was racing as he took a moment to collect himself.  He had been wanting to say that since he was fifteen years old.

He began to head down the hall, stopping at El’s door and cracking it open.  He smiled fondly to see her in bed, tucked under at least four blankets.  He shut the door quietly before heading further down to your room.  He opened it just enough to see inside, his heart warming at the sight in front of him.  There was a faint glow cast over the room from your lamp.  You had fallen asleep before turning it off.

“It’s sweet.”  He looked down to see Joyce right beside him, also peering inside.  You and Billy were curled up so tightly together that it was difficult to tell where one of you ended and the other began.  “Are you going to tell him he can’t sleep in here?”

Hopper shook his head, wrapping an arm around her.  “Nah...  They need each other.  They’ve earned a quiet night.”  He walked inside, turning off the lamp before leaving, the door closing with a faint click.

[wordsablaze]

Bombdiggity Brunets 2

Steve's caring nature gets him ambushed and of course Jonathan is the one to find and try to help the poor boy... Lowkey Stonathan. Enjoy!

A/N: I know, I know, it’s the world’s least inventive title. I just got such a lovely response (mostly on ao3) that I had to continue! The whole party is in this chapter and there are mentions of past attempts at non-con, as well as a nightmare. Oh, and Dustin is extremely protective.

"I wish we were dreaming," Jonathan replies five minutes later, but it doesn't matter that his reply wasn't immediate because none of them are going to think about anything else anytime soon.

They'd lifted the limp Steve onto the couch and tried to make him as comfortable as possible, Joyce biting her nails and Will humming 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go?' under his breath like a looped cassette.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Dustin repeats over and over as he walks in.

Jonathan watches as Steve stirs even in his drugged sleep - the teenager and Dustin had built up a bond closer than brothers - but whatever they'd given him had obviously been way too strong to be legal.

"What happened to our Steve?" Dustin asks and not even Joyce makes a surprised sound at the possessive pronoun because he is attached to all of them and they were all fond of him.

"Some idiots attacked him," Jonathan replies, not wanting to go into details and scare the kid.

"Then why aren't we out going after them, kicking their as-"

"Language..." Joyce mutters weakly, biting her lip as soon as she's said it.

Dustin has the decency to look slightly sheepish. "Sorry, Mrs Byers."

Jonathan stifles a laugh, taking a moment to wonder how on earth the curly-haired kid had gotten here so quickly, only to give up on the thought as the rest of the party walks in.

Joyce makes a small noise that seems to say 'why are there suddenly so many children who should be asleep in their own houses suddenly wide awake in my house instead?' but she quickly recovers, ushering them all inside and shutting the door; there's not much that can surprise her anymore.

"Hurt?" Eleven questions as she kneels in front of Steve then reels back. "Drug."

Mike steadies her before frowning at the unconscious teenager. "What happened?"

"Hurt..." Eleven repeats, reaching a hand out to touch Steve's bruised face.

A small part of Jonathan knows he should be explaining, should be saying something, should be doing anything but standing still, but he can't bring himself to interrupt the kids' theorising.

"It wasn't Billy, was it?" Max asks quietly, but it sounds more like a statement than an inquiry.

Jonathan shakes his head, finally feeling like he can contribute once again. "I don't know- we don't know who the men were."

Lucas squeezes Max's hand in what's probably supposed to be a subtle way but honestly couldn't be any more obvious.

Joyce walks back into the room, at which point the seven of them realise she'd walked out in the first place. She looks at them with an endearingly sad expression and chews on her lip for a minute before saying, "We need to wake him up."

"Wait, El, didn't Hopper come with you?" Dustin asks, speaking up for the first time since his apology for the angry explosion.

Eleven nods. "Outside."

Dustin looks torn between going to find the Chief and staying where he is knelt beside Steve so Jonathan coughs. "I'll go get him, yeah?"

He's exhaling shakily before anyone can thank him, breathing in the cold air as if it's gaseous courage. The sharp late evening breeze pricks his skin but he's hardly concerned, Steve's oddly terrified expression haunting his vision continuously.

"You okay, kid?" Hopper asks as if he was the one searching for Jonathan and not the other way around.

"I- um, yeah... Dustin wants you." Jonathan doesn't even look at the Chief, knowing his face will show a pity he doesn't want.

He follows Hopper inside and ruffles Will's hair when the younger Byers brother hugs him tightly. The two of them have seen a lot of disturbing things in their life but Steve being injured so badly is way too strange, way too unexpected, way too surreal.

Hopper seems to be having a rapid conversation with Dustin and Eleven by the time Jonathan can focus again, the three of them repeatedly glancing at Steve and occasionally looking to Jonathan for some reason.

Dustin throws his hands up after a while, retreating to Steve's side for a few minutes of awkward hushed conversations before apparently giving up and clambering onto the couch, practically draping himself over his self-proclaimed brother. Nobody laughs or protests, knowing that Dustin is strangely over-protective of Steve in particular and he's not fooling anyone by claiming it's only for the hairstyling tips.

"Move." Eleven's voice is hard and strong as she walks towards the group, her decision clearly made.

Everyone but Dustin and Jonathan does exactly that, grabbing someone's hand and standing against one of the walls. Dustin refuses to move, latching onto Steve, and Jonathan figures that, if something goes wrong, a middle schooler probably doesn't know as much about helping the injured as he does. Eleven nods at them as if praising something their choice and raises her hands, shutting her eyes and breathing so slowly it looks like she's stopped needing oxygen.

There's an alarmingly still silence in the room until Eleven's eyes fly open and she slowly clenches her fist.

Steve shudders before starting to tremble, more and more violent until his eyes fly open and he falls off the couch, retching. Dustin shrieks as he also overbalances so Jonathan darts forwards and rolls Steve out of Dustin's way to prevent further injuries to his already battered body.

Then Steve is gagging, spitting out something that looks like it has a mind of his own and gasping for breath between his heaving. Eleven winces but curls her other fist, the rest of the group watching as Steve's body rids itself of whatever he'd been given to subdue him. Nobody relaxes until Steve groans, his body going limp as he slumps against Jonathan, Eleven nodding in satisfaction.

"Hey, Steve, you look like sh-"

"Shut it, Dusty," Steve interrupts, his voice barely a whisper, quiet and jagged.

Dustin just beams, holding his nose and wrapping his arms around Steve, almost elbowing Jonathan in the process.

Steve tenses and, even though he weakly wraps his arms around Dustin in return, everyone teen and above in the room can tell his mind is elsewhere. Not that that stops him, he's Steve Harrington, initially mother of four but now definitely more, and he won't ever put himself above anyone else, especially the kids.

Dustin only clambers off Steve when Joyce demands they all gather in Will's room for a sleepover-esque meeting, at which point he gently pats Steve's head in an almost comical way and waves as he's pulled out of the room, allowing Steve to finally wince and shut his eyes, his face paler than should be possible for anyone who spends so much time in the sun as he watches over his kids.

And finally, Steve can think again, his mind racing back to the darkness of the alley and the slobbery gestures of unwanted affection that had been inescapable and much worse than the demogorgons because he can understand monsters that come from a parallel dimension and are born of what looks like possessive slime but he can't understand monsters that look human, talk human, smell human, but act so inhuman that his mind is sent into a frenzy of disbelief, horror, and confusion.

"Steve?" Jonathan asks and Steve jumps, realising that he's leaning against the other brunette and also that he doesn't really mind it.

"I need to... I need- go back." Steve shakes his head. "Parents- looking... will be looking? For me..."

Hopper and Joyce frown, their expressions clearly skeptical and unwilling to let Steve go anywhere out of their sight.

"I can drive him back?" Jonathan offers, wanting to cry at Steve's lack of spirit.

Hopper and Joyce once again frown but this time, it's kinder, more knowing, with a hint of amusement. Eventually, Joyce nods. "But if anything happens, you come right back, yeah?"

Jonathan nods and notices that Steve seems to have taken on a green hue. "Actually, I think he's going to throw up."

Sure enough, Steve's stomach tries to empty itself out despite having nothing inside and he coughs, groaning, his head pounding like it's being slammed onto the floor once again.

Joyce makes a sound that only a mother can manage, sounding both terrified, pitying, and protective.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, his eyes dropping as he tries to fight his urge to sleep the world away.

"No, hey, don't say that... it isn't your fault," Jonathan says before either of the parents can, leaning forwards and practically wrapping himself around Steve.

"He's not going anywhere," Hopper declares as he assesses the barely-awake and shivering Steve; Steve probably would have protested but he's far too busy falling asleep on Jonathan, who's a mixture of elated, angry, disbelieving, and concerned.

"Well, he's not sleeping on the couch," Jonathan declares firmly, his voice the firmest it's ever been. "He can have my bed for tonight."

"Jonathan..." Joyce starts but sees the look on his face and sighs, her hands on her hips. "Alright."

Hopper grins. "I guess I get to upgrade to the couch then, huh?"

The three of them share a look that renders their previous decision absolutely rejected but before any of them can confirm it aloud, Eleven walks in with a blanket and a waffle. "For Steve," she says, a rough smile on her face.

Hopper's face softens as he takes the two things from her and passes them to Joyce, then following Eleven back to the other room so he can make sure the kids are all okay and on their way to sleep. Joyce places the waffle on the table but wraps the blanket around the two boys, kissing the top of Jonathan's head.

"Mom-"

"I already know and your sleeping bag is in the cupboard as usual in case you were wondering."

Jonathan grins for a second before awkwardly pushing Steve's weight onto Joyce and standing up, shaking his numb legs a little. Once he can feel his feet again, he wraps one of Steve's arms around his shoulders and all but drags Steve to his room, stumbling no less than eight times on the way.

Steve half wakes up long enough to frown in confusion, mutter an apology, poke Jonathan's nose by accident, and trip over his own feet, landing on the bed.

Jonathan throws his hands up in frustration just as Joyce laughs from the doorway. "Did he just poke you?"

"I don't know?"

Joyce shakes her head and throws a blanket over Steve, kissing the top of Jonathan's head once again. "Night."

"Night, mom."

Jonathan lets his eyes shut but he can't bring himself to sleep, restlessly changing position or sitting up and glancing over at Steve every few minutes.

It's a good thing too, because it means he's wide awake and ready to jump up when he hears someone softly whimper.

At first, he thinks it's Will back with another of his Upside Down nightmares, but the door is still firmly closed. His heart hammering in his chest from being awoken so abruptly, he sits up and looks around, gasping when he catches sight of Steve twisting and trembling in his clearly disturbing sleep.

He's up in an instant, his previous nightmares about the demogorgon seeming to be nothing in comparison to Steve's pale and scrunched up face. Despite his eyes being squeezed shut, they're clearly moving, his dream obviously a flashback of some kind. Steve's hands are uselessly clenching into fists but it's only when his breathing quickens alarmingly that Jonathan reaches out to steady the boy.

Steve stills at the touch and Jonathan sighs in relief but it turns out Steve isn't calming down, he's freezing in fear, and he's thrashing on the bed within seconds, sobbing, mostly asleep but awake enough to accidentally punch Jonathan's shoulder.

Jonathan stumbles back as the other boy cries out, Steve's watery eyes flying open and his breathing at a rate faster than should be biologically safe.

And Steve can sort of see past the men again, he can feel the blanket his hands are clenched around, but he can't get the taste of their poisonous affection out of his mind and he's spitting, gagging, trying to cry them away from him, clawing at his skin to rip their presence far from here, where they can never touch him again.

"Steve, Steve, hey, Steve, it's Jonathan, come on, it's only me, Steve, hey, can you hear me?"

Steve slams his eyes shut and weakly nods, flinching when someone settles on the bed beside him but trying to relax a little when he smells the familiar Byers' cologne.

It's strange, he manages to think even amongst so much panic, how a usually irrelevant scent can be so grounding, so reassuring, so safe.

He doesn't realise he'd been crying until he feels the gentle presence of tears on his face, tears that have been sliding down his bruised skin and rolling under his wobbling chin. He lifts a shaking hand to wipe the salty water away and discovers that he's still releasing tears, still unable to forget the stench of alcohol above him.

"Steve?"

He can't move, can't acknowledge Jonathan, can't open his eyes because he's scared- no, he's downright terrified of the men being millimeters away again, the one with a golden tooth and the one with a crooked smile that promises nothing but trouble, and so he can't bring himself to breathe until his lungs scream in stress and he has to cough, cursing himself and desperately drawing in breath.

"No-" he croaks.

"Hey, hey, can you hear me?" Jonathan asks, and then the weight next to him disappears and there's someone kneeling beside the bed and he can't tell who they are until he breathes in deeply and catches the scent of whatever that liquid is you need to develop photos.

But then he's worried, scared, terrified he's still in the alley and someone is taking a photo of him so they can show his parents and make them so mad because he's meant to be strong and he's supposed to be able to handle himself and he's going to be in so much trouble when they find out and they might send him away, far away from the party, who he's grown so fond of and he'll have to invent a long-distance walkie talkie because there's no way he can find another gang of middle schoolers but he isn't nearly smart enough for that and so he'll be alone again which means he'll have no purpose in the world and it'll be because of how weak he is, how stupid, how utterly useless and-

"Steve!"

He jumps.

"Steve! Come on, come back to me, you're gonna be fine, hey, you're okay, I'm still here, only me, you're okay..."

"Th- They- They wanted..." he trails off, shutting his eyes and groaning, doubling over so his head rests on top of the blanket.

"I'm sorry, man, you didn't deserve that," Jonathan says sincerely, definitely not expecting the tiny bark of laughter that escapes Steve.

"But- but I did... I did, didn't I? I'm ju- jus- just so... so-"

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not true," Jonathan says softly, wanting to cry but also wanting Steve to stop crying. It doesn't seem like Steve even knows he's still crying, and he probably doesn't care.

Steve finally lifts his head up and looks, really looks at Jonathan, his intense gaze both intimidating and pitiful.

"Are- are you, um, are you sure?" Steve asks, and Jonathan gets the feeling that nobody's really told him just how important, how appreciated, how incredible he really is - something that makes his heart clench in regret.

"I'm so sure," Jonathan replies, "that I could defeat one of those stupid demogorgons with my sure-ness."

Despite the tragically beautiful tears glistening on his face, Steve's lips curve themselves into a smile and he releases a small chuckle, some of the remaining panic visibly draining from his expression.

"Sorry."

"Why?" Jonathan asks in confusion, his heart a little lighter at the thought of Steve being a little more relaxed.

"I, uh, I woke you..."

Jonathan shakes his head and sends Steve the warmest smile he can muster. "I'm glad you did."

The shock on Steve's face would be comical were it not so heartbreaking; nobody deserves to live life thinking that waking someone who cares about you up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare caused by something absolutely horrifying and beyond anyone's control makes you a burden, nobody deserves that.

Not knowing what to do when Steve starts blinking so furiously he has to be trying to hold back tears, Jonathan swallows and stands himself up, waiting a few seconds before perching on the bed and wrapping an arm around Steve. He couldn't be more relieved when a head softly rests on his shoulder and he feels the other boy shaking, not because he wants Steve to he upset but because he's glad he can act as safety, a trustworthy ballast, a potential source of comfort.

After a minute or so of quiet sobbing and gentle humming, Jonathan shifts so he's also sitting against the headboard, Steve then diagonally leaning on his chest with his head on Jonathan's shoulder. Shooting down any attempts at apologies, Jonathan wraps himself around the other teenager, letting his head rest on the perfect fluffy waves that are someone better than his own hair despite everything.

"You're going to get better," Jonathan soothes, knowing that Steve probably won't be perfectly alright for a while but also knowing there's a never a point in your life where you can't heal, even if it is a painfully slow journey.

In that moment, there could be nothing as soothing as hearing Steve's small hum of disbelieving yet trusting agreement.

Steve's breathing finally, finally slows down to a rate that can be considered normal and the two of them curl around each other in a way that's sure to bring in stiff limbs in the morning but they don't think that far ahead, not caring about the rest of the world and only dimly realising that their hands had somehow folded over one another and their fingers had intertwined somewhere along the way before accompanying each other in the most peaceful sleep possible for them.

Jonathan does, however, have just enough time to wonder if this is indeed a figment of his imagination after all.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

[star-shuttle-scout]

If you're still taking requests for stonathan I was thinking something where Steve gets super jealous because someone is hitting on his bf would be super cute and aaaaah~

( I’m on spring break so please send prompts!!! I’m bored and yearning for Stonathan! )

Steve hasn’t known Jonathan for very long, just a small decimal of a fraction of his life, a measly year and four months. He’s been dating him for about six of those months, of course only a few people know about that. Then again, there are rumors and people can get ideas from two guys spending most of their time together and often spotted standing just a little too close to one another. However, Jonathan and Steve weren’t widely known as queers, rumors were just rumors. Well, most of the time. No rumor could pin that Steve spent some evenings staring at Jonathan’s profile during movie nights, memorizing the slope of his nose and the tiny little freckle on his temple. And there was definitely nobody who could prove that Steve and Jonathan slept in the same bed three out of seven nights a week other than Joyce, Will, and the other little ankle-biters that followed him around.So, technically… Jonathan was a single guy in most people’s eyes, just as Steve was. Did that bother him a bit? Maybe… Maybe it bothered him a lot more than a bit.

Steve realized this rather quickly the moment Missy Richards took a sudden liking to Jonathan. She’d ask for his notes after class and stand next to him in the hall and ask him about his camera (Jonathan’s camera talk was for Steve’s ears only!!) and just hang around like she was…. Like she was…

“Are Missy and Jonathan dating?” The words make him grit his teeth; he shoots a glare at the inquiring mind of Patrick Cline before hurrying over to where Jonathan and Missy were hovering near Jonathan’s locker.

Jonathan has his head partially in his locker, and honestly Jonathan hadn’t really noticed Missy all that much in the few weeks she had started clinging to him. Jonathan was a million things, smart and kind and beautiful to name a few, but he was not very observant. His knowledge of social interactions was few and far between, Steve had to kiss him for him to even begin realizing that the older boy was interested in him.

“Hey, Jonny.” Steve smiles at the younger, who leans out from his locker with a small smile directed towards Steve. It was a pure thing, Jonathan smiling, and Steve would cherish it for as long as he could. “Misty.” Steve waves distractedly, the girl scowls a little.

“It’s Missy,” She corrects, Steve snorts.

“Hilarious story, must kill at parties!” He fakes a smile to go along with his passive aggressive comment, then turns his eyes back on his boyfriend. “Hey, my house after work, right?” He asks, Jonathan is staring down at his folder, unaware of the mild conflict between Steve and Missy.

“Oh uh,” Jonathan looks up at Steve with a slightly lost look for a moment before it seems to click and he nods. “Yeah, your house, right.” He agrees.

“But…” Missy speaks up, Jonathan turns his head with a frown. “I really need to study for Reeves’ test and you said you’d help me.” She says with a flash of puppy dog eyes that make Steve’s lip curl back in a silent sneer.

“Sorry, Maggie, Wednesdays are movie nights for the boys.” He flashes the girl a triumphant smile, and Jonathan looks over at him with a puzzled frown on his face.

“Missy,” The girl insists, Steve waves her off and the girl takes a gentle hold of Jonathan’s hand that makes his heart skip a beat and his eyesight blur. “Jon, I really need help.” She pleads, Steve bites the inside of his cheek and ducks his head.

“Yeah, Jon.” He sneers, hands curling into fists at his sides. “Why don’t you take your fucking girlfriend to the library to study?” He snaps, a few people look their way and Jonathan’s eyebrows rise up in shock and confusion. “Just fuck it, don’t bother coming over.” He turns away and storms down the hall, ignoring the prying looks and whispers as he pushes the front doors open and hurries across the parking lot to his car.

“Jon,” Steve mutters under his breath as he tries to find his key in his backpack, tears burning in his eyes. “Doesn’t even like that nickname, but what would I would know…” He turns his head to wipe the corner of his eye on his shoulder before shoving his key into the car door lock. “I’m just his boyfriend.” He hisses, slipping into the car and slamming the door behind him.

Right as he’s about to shove his keys in the ignition, there’s a frantic knock on his window. He turns his head and finds Jonathan, looking still confused as ever but mildly panicked as well. Steve bites his tongue and flips him off when he gestures for Steve to roll down the window. He watches as the young man partially climbs over his hood (Almost falling at one point, but Steve won’t laugh because he is very mad) and reaches the other side. Steve locks the door before he can open it, watching the younger pull and tug at the passenger side handle for a moment before glaring at him through the window.

Steve makes the mistake of looking into his stupid eyes, those stupid big brown eyes that look so hurt and innocent and unknowing… He really didn’t know, really didn’t see what Missy was doing. He unlocks the door and Jonathan gets into the passenger seat before closing the door behind him. He slips his messenger bag off of his shoulder and lets it slide down onto the floorboards in a swift practiced movement.

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan demands, not angry, concerned.

“How can you be so fucking blind to all of this?” Steve is angry, he can’t help it. He wants to punch Missy in the face for trying to put the moves on his boyfriend!

“Blind to what? What I wasn’t blind to was you having the most dramatic tantrum in front of half the kids in school!” Jonathan waves his hands in an erratic gesture, running anxious fingers through his hair. Steve watches him glance around out the windows of the parking lot, looking for other people that might see. If he was with Missy, he wouldn’t have to look, wouldn’t have to worry about being seen.

The gentle hand on his neck seems less soothing and more painful; he drops his head on the steering wheel.

“Missy likes you,” He mumbles, Jonathan’s hand moves down to rub along his back.

“So?” He murmurs in reply, Steve rolls his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

“Likes you likes you, like midnight makeouts and kisses at your locker and going to the fucking drive through and going home without knowing how the movie ended.” He grumbles pettily, and the disbelieving laugh from Jonathan makes him want to throw himself off a bridge. Jonathan really couldn’t see it?

“So?” Wait, what? Steve sits up, looking to Jonathan, who looks vaguely amused but still a bit lost.

“You know she likes you?” He demands, Jonathan shrugs.

“Well you just told me, so now I do. But that doesn’t matter, Steve.” He explains, Steve rolls his eyes and leans back against his car door with a heavy sigh. “I mean it, dude, she’s just a friend.” He promises, Steve feels petulant and bitter and most of him wants to continue throwing his fit for the rest of the day. He’d been festering over this for weeks, and Jonathan was so casual about it all.

“She doesn’t think that.” He says quietly, glaring down at his hands lying limp in his lap. “Nobody else thinks that either.”

“But you didn’t ask me what I think, Steve.” Jonathan insists, taking Steve’s hands into his own and squeezing them gently. “And I look at her and I see just a girl. That’s how I see everyone, just a person; people aren’t special until they mean something to me.” He explains quietly, and it sounds like one of those deep talks at night when Jonathan tries to explain his process of feelings and thoughts. He was complicated and different, but not unreachable in his ideas.

“She keeps trying to take you away from me,” He says hesitantly, Jonathan scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Like you’d ever let me go without a fight,” He mutters with humor, Steve can’t help but smile just a bit. “That’s beside the point. I haven’t spent late nights with her discussing my feelings, my thoughts, my fears… I don’t think of her when I wake up or want to kiss her whenever I see her.” He insists, and then releases one of Steve’s hands to poke him in the chest. “That’s you, Steve Harrington. You’re the love of my life, not Missy Richards.” He promises with a small smile.

“Making me look like a jealous boyfriend over here,” Steve complains quietly, Jonathan laughs softly and leans forward to kiss him just as gently.

“I don’t mind,” He whispers with his eyes sparkling, Steve brings up a hand to touch his cheek and kisses him again. “I’m glad you care,” He says softly.

“I care a whole lot, Byers. What do you say we go back to my place and I show you just how much I care?” He suggests with a grin, Jonathan snorts quietly and leans back as Steve moves forward.

“I say that Missy is going to have to study for Ms. Reeves’ test by herself.” He offers in reply, Steve pecks him on the lips again.

“I like the sound of that.” He chuckles, turning his head in the slightest when Jonathan tilts his head a bit to kiss him on the cheek. “This really isn’t going to help rumors,” He sighs as he turns his key in the ignition.

“Let’em talk, it’ll keep any suitors away.” Jonathan says with a smirk, Steve glances over at him. “Like Amber Kowalski.” He states with a look, Steve’s jaw drops.

“She’s not into me!” He insists, Jonathan shakes his head and glances out the window with a small smile.

“Tell that to the way she always leans into you when you guys talk. I might be an idiot but I’m not blind, Harrington!” Jonathan says with a wag of his finger, Steve drops his head back against the seat with a laugh.

“I think you have it backwards, babe.” He shifts his car into reverse and glances back at the driveway behind them.

“Sure, honey.” Jonathan replies sarcastically, Steve reaches over and tussles his hair. Jonathan’s head ducks down and his shoulders come up, like a turtle trying to recede into its’ shell as he groans loudly in protest. “What if I did that to you?!” Jonathan demands in outrage, Steve grins as he pulls out and then switches into drive.

“I’d give you to Missy Richards.” He jokes; Jonathan shoves at his shoulder with a soft giggle.

“Maybe when hell freezes over,” Jonathan sighs, leaning his head against the window and his hand finding that of Steve’s settled on the armrest. Steve pulls their joined hands over towards him and kisses the back of Jonathan’s hand gently, setting them down on the armrest once more. Missy could pine all she wanted, she’d never get this.