#also i bet the set design team had a fun time designing that war zone set

[lucascsinclairs]

Set Design in Stranger Things 4

Chapter Eight: Papa

[transcendencenyu]

terrie//complementary

“You’re very handsome.” We stood outside the restaurant, watching some of the others file in, some mingling outside before entering, because out here was safe. In there, we could already tell: it was a war zone. We were dressed for battle, only the finest gear to keep us protected in there, weapons drawn and ready to defend ourselves no matter what happened. My battle armor was simple, skin tight, and fit perfectly to keep in time with my body should I need to run or dodge out of the way of an attack: a short black dress, definitely one for the summer, the back mostly exposed, and the interior silken cloth covered by a harder exterior shell, a laced flowery design that pulled in the otherwise loose fabric toward my frame. Naturally, I detested dresses, but it was one that Paisley adored, one she made me buy because she “could tell” it made me look hot, although I knew she just loved the feel of it. I also rocked some sweet red converse, naturally, my boots ready to trudge through the muds of our soon-to-be bloodied arena. To anyone else, it seemed like a simple summer outfit, but Bucky and Stephen could tell it was something more, a shield against the dark forces that threatened our kingdom. I needed all the help I could get to go up against a godlike entity and the heroes around that were easily swayed by his power and charm. David, meet Goliath.

“I know,” Stephen replied shortly. “I don’t need you to tell me.”

It took a moment to pull my stare from the gates to hell, looking back to Stephen, my special weapon to ward off the most stubborn kind of ignorant asshole, and here he was, reminding me why I never complimented him. “It’s kind of the thing people do, when they want to, you know, compliment someone? It wouldn’t kill you to try it sometime,” I replied. I’d learned the best way to deal with Stephen was giving him the same amount of attitude—so long as it checked out factually—and he’d be subdued temporarily. We definitely were opposites in many regards, but we always found a way to meet in the middle. My sarcastic assholeism did the job well.

“Right. I typically don’t bother with pleasantries. They get in the way.”

A huge sigh said, “I know,” and I looked back to the Colosseum, knowing that lingering too long was a sure sign of weakness. No, we had to go in, chests out, like we were the ones in control. It was a fight to the death, and I hadn’t lost yet.

We found our seats beside Bucky and Steve, Stephen beside Tony. Honestly, I hadn’t spoken to the narcissistic dick in a while, but if anyone could put up steel defenses against this intruder, it was Tony. Even Steve seemed a little guarded today, and Bucky was ready to throw down (although this was normal for him). Bruce beside Tony—yet another person I hadn’t spoken with properly in a while—was wary as ever, concealed by his timid behavior, when really he could lash out at any given moment should things go wrong. Quickly, as the night officially began, we could tell there was a civil war brewing among the two sides of the table.

Natasha and Clint sat beside Paisley, held hostage by her new man, and our giant friend who, really, would go along with anything. I only received one look from Clint, but it was enough to remind me he was forever on Paisley’s side, pitting me against him so that I’d be opposite of my best friend. Already, they were getting distracted in music selection, but my eyes narrowed and locked on my target from the moment he spoke his first word. Straight across from me, Peter and I both knew we were entering our very own Cold War. A standoff against two assholes for Paisley’s attention and approval, and the games had already begun. You could tell he was nervous, no doubt guilty of something, just by the way he addressed the crowd, completing a rather impressive feat by meeting us all at once--his foolish and fatal mistake. He had some allies, sure, but I wouldn’t bet his team over mine any day.

I couldn’t help but lean forward, intrigued by his mannerisms, his not-so-careful phrasing of it all, calling it, us, a trial. He must have thought us judges, his executioners even, but this was much more than a hearing. No, this was a test, a skill challenge to see how much he could endure before he’d finally break and decide for himself that Paisley wasn’t worth the trouble (like any worthless man would). We were all here to find that out, to see how fast the little one would squirm. To see how the mighty fall when they see true power. Tony was especially good at this, making small, almost silent comments to Bruce and Stephen and me, making it nearly impossible to keep from giggling, or at least smiling this sly, twisted grin in Peter’s direction. Had my hatred been misdirected, I would have been the equivalent to a high school mean girl, but since I felt the bitterness was well deserved, Tony actually made the night quite pleasant, and rather straining for Quill. I knew I’d have to speak to Tony later, privately, on the matter, maybe even with drinks. If he wasn’t still a major asshole.

Then came the questions. Steve started out small—god, did it sound like an interview of some kind: “Can you please tell us about a time when you acted as a leader to accomplish a task with your girlfriend?” The whole time I was imagining him imagining Paisley naked (which was unfortunately very easy to do since I had), my nails trying to dig into the very fabric that was keeping me safe while my senses told me to relax. Sure, maybe Peter hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The only way to know was to ask, right? Unless either of them knew how to lie (totally sure that wouldn’t be the case). I could see Peter, already tense, locking eyes with Steve. As if the bastard hadn’t done enough already, he attacked Steve with his previous relationship, one I’m sure Paisley told him in confidence. I was caught off guard, trying to consider how a twisted sicko could use his supposed girlfriend’s words against her good friend, and I spit out the first thing I could think of to keep him off Steve.

“I picked those out, the glasses.” His attention shifted, fighting between Steve and me, like he was sizing the two of us up, considering which one was the weaker link, which one could go down in less hits. He hadn’t decided yet.

Bucky was brave enough to ask the million dollar question--one that would have made me laugh for hours had it not been so serious--yet Paisley’s answer meant almost nothing to me. In a room full of her closest friends, trying to impress them? She’d lie. Peter too, unless he didn’t know any better. With sex temporarily out of the way, however, conversations began to break off, and I was left staring at Peter, emotionless but challenging. He held his ground, staring back, never shifting, but his eyes expressed his discomfort--a weakness to take advantage of. In sizing me up, he’d let his barrier down just long enough for me to find an opening.

“So. Pete,” my tongue clicked as I held him down, my eyes like hands around his neck, firm yet nonlethal for the time being.

“It’s Peter, actually.”

The corners of my mouth twitched upward just barely, and I leaned back into my chair for the first time since seeing him this up close, relaxed and comfortable with the dominance I had over him. “Right. Tell me, Pete, what do you like to do for fun?”

The question, obviously trapped, was phase one in a plan listed with many phases. Of course, I would start small, working my way up to the Earth shattering bombs only if needed, wanting to leave zero casualties in his selfish war. “Okay, yeah, I’m usually looking for the next dance battle, or enjoying the last of what the universe gave us of Bowie and his sick storytelling ability.”

“Lovely. Very practical.”

“Well, when you’re trying to save the world one flash mob at a time, it’s best to come prepared.”

“Your family must be so proud,” I said, monotone in every response, while he tried his best to give me enough sass to flood the area.

“Yeah. Do you ever smile? Your face change at all, or is it just stuck like that?”

“You want me to smile?” I narrowed my eyes and gave a smirk, a gentle one, then looked away, nearly scoffing. The man who made faces at me wanted me to smile. Adorable.

Peter cranes his head back a bit, perplexed. “Okay, I see why you don’t. Damn.”

My resting bitch face came back, and I continued to delve into his brittle soul. “I’m sure you’ve told your friends all about your girlfriend. Why haven’t we met them?” Anything personal was a good place to start, although the atmosphere of chattering and clinking didn’t set the tone for any of the real questions I wanted to get to. Of course, I wasn’t a dick, I wouldn’t try and make him cry, but I did want to see him angry.

Quickly, his attention is pulled away, and my emotionless stare burns into a fiery, dark rage. Honestly, I hated few people in this world, but god did he want to be one of them. I wanted to cut him with the sharpest of words, but I just had to find the right ones. Tony had been watching Peter and me mostly, intrigued but realizing I wasn’t getting anywhere--yet. He took it upon himself to cut me off and inquire about Peter’s major, explaining another disappointment that only Peter could accomplish. An astronomy major in Missouri? Yeah, right. The only thing more pointless than a worthless major was going to college without a major. At least Paisley realized that, shooting back at me with a similar contempt I had for Pete. Peter, meanwhile, laughed everything off, sending more fire through my veins, my very own flood of fuel which worsened the flames with each word he spoke. I felt the pressure welling up inside of me, threatening to burst. Paisley pretending he was so perfect and so wonderful killed me, and I turned my head finally, tearing my eyes from Peter to sigh and growl under my breath to Stephen, “Why did we even try to come?” For once, Stephen took initiative then, seeing my struggle and speaking up.

“What do you want, Paisley? A stamp of approval?” My man slowly reached his hand from underneath the table, not to grab mine, but to touch my thigh gently with the back of his hand, to be present while I was mentally wringing Peter’s neck. I’d almost killed him in my head, too, when he interrupted that sweet, sweet imaginary visage of his bloodied smolder weakening. I could tell in an instant, that after the staring, the prodding, and the waiting, Peter was getting tired of being on the defense. He knew he’d lose if he kept taking blow after blow, so he turned himself to me, and he began to make his attack. I guess you could say he’d decided on the weaker link.

Of course, I had come prepared to fight. Nothing he could say would throw me off, nothing that I hadn’t already prepared for, and I knew this, staring him down as he charged ahead. His words cut instantly through Paisley, then Bucky, then Steve, and slowly I began to realize one small gap in my plan: I couldn’t have possibly prepared for something I didn’t know existed.

He saw my barrier exposed now, my internal struggle to flee before he could get any closer, and he took the chance to light a fuse and run. “Yeah. When you and Steve dated, she was jealous. That was the plan, right? So, they’d get together?” He disappeared with Paisley, the others were speaking, but I no longer made out words. I glanced over slowly to Steve, head still in his hands, then at Bucky who couldn’t even look back. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. My heart was pounding--I could hear thick, heavy pulses of blood thrumming against my eardrums and causing my eyes to weaken, my vision darkening. I couldn’t even process the information, only movements, my body slowly rising, then shifting, moving like a dismembered body held together with tacks and paperclips, until I was outside without really understanding why. God, did Rio look beautiful at night.

I don’t know how long I was out. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before someone finally came to check up on me, coming to rest at the same bench my broken body had slumped into. Even at night, the wind blew nothing but hot breaths of air into my face and hair, tugging at the corners of my dress with pubescent curiosity. I didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Everyone is wondering if you’ll be joining us again,” he said, his low voice melding with the wind to create a harmonious hum for me. “They thought it would be best to give you space.”

I looked over, trying to focus, my mind unwillingly blocking out sights and sounds around me as I fell somewhere deep within my mind palace. “And what do you think is best, Stephen?”

His eyes were moving around, observing the area despite being somewhere lost on his own beside me. “I’m sorry, about which problem?” Was there a hint of sarcasm there? I couldn’t tell.

“About.. About Peter. About.. this dinner. What should I do?” My eyes found him then, searching his face for an answer, his mind a chasm full of knowledge and insight that didn’t begin to cover the rather unimpressive crack in the pavement that fit mine.

“Well, for starters, I think you need to stop letting the past influence your decisions with this man. We clearly don’t know enough about him, and this isn’t exactly the best way to do it.” It was different with Stephen, something I never felt with Grant, the way his mere presence felt comforting, felt sheltered. He was rarely physical, but his near proximity was enough. It was exactly what I needed after the way Grant treated me, not having to worry about flinching or pulling away from contact, not offending Stephen for still having memories crawl back to the center of my world when I least expected them. His temper was just as bad when it got to that point, but he kept to himself, respecting my space and only letting me make moves (which he didn’t even want half the time). He was his absolute best when he was alone, just him and me, and his secret playful side that would come out on rare occasions. Nothing like Steve.

“Why give him a chance to hurt her? If he does, Clint will fucking blame it on me, and I’ll blame myself, and I’ll have failed her twice, and Paisley.. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves the right man at the right time, and him, right now? He’s not it.” Slowly, as I was speaking, I felt emotion come back to me, feeling the weight of my body, feeling exhausted and drained, feeling my body vibrate from the sheer force of the shock. I’d have to accept that Steve and Bucky and Paisley all lied to me about something so stupid, something that very well could have ruined my chances with Steve, but it wasn’t like that mattered, right? I was with Stephen. Everything worked out. It was better this way.

“We don’t know he isn’t, and we shouldn’t control her for our own selfish fears. I agree, he isn’t.. quite what I was expecting, but it’s ultimately Paisley’s decision, and as her friend, you have to honor that.” I looked back at the entrance, wondering if Pai and Peter had rejoined the group, if they even missed us. “Right now, she just needs you to support her, Terrance. Just be there for her.” He paused, seeing my hesitation, considering whether or not it was safe to say anything else, to push his luck. He’d witnessed my anger, knew it was eating away at my judgement, but mentioning it could very well make it worse. It was too unpredictable to really say. “Tell me, if you managed to be the perfect friend for Paisley, would you finally stop acting like her?”

“I don’t act like Paisley. Far from it—”

“You know she’s not who I’m referring to.” There was a palpable pause, my heart skipping a beat, my body tensing up once more from shock, like the way I locked up during horror films ( “You’ll definitely love this one, Terrie. It’s not even scary!” said the worst liar ever, AKA Bucky, AKA not my best friend anymore).

“I.. honestly don’t know,” I admitted lamely. Stephen never mentioned my past, both of us knowing he was aware of it, but him deciding to be respectful of it. It was chilling how observant he was, how he could distinguish lies from the truth like that. “Right now, I just.. I want to not fail Paisley again. I just want to see her smile and laugh again, like the real Pai we knew and loved.”

“She wants that too. This is her way of trying.” Suddenly, my eyes were clouded with tears that just seemed to appear, and I leaned over to find Stephen, resting against him. He gingerly wrapped his arm around my waist to allow me to move closer, and I took in a deep breath only to sigh and wipe my eyes. 

“What should I do? I mean, I can’t just walk back in there and pretend nothing happened, can I?”

“I believe that’s what everyone else is doing. It’s a good step one.”

I nodded once, sniffling and wiping at my eyes again, trying to quickly end the tears and let the redness fade again so we could rejoin the others. By now, my eyelashes were matted together, tangled and clumped, loose ones tearing away easily as I tried to fix them. What a wonderful life it was for me to not worry about makeup. “God, I’m a mess,” I said, letting out some amalgamation from trying to laugh and cry at the same time.

“..You look alluring. Ah, beautiful.” He gave a very slight smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh again and smile back, weak as ever but stable in my current condition thanks to Stephen. We sat in silence for one last moment, my head on his chest while I listened to the beating of his heart and wondered if mine would ever beat the same again, then together we braved the storm that was beginning again.