#inspired by that one scene where steve argues that he should go to pennhurst so he can charm the guy

[storybook-tiles]

can’t you feel the weight of my stare?

for @stonathanweek’s stonathan sunday. prompt: Are you trying to get yourself killed?!

Jonathan can’t stop staring at Steve. 

Which is… It’s not like that’s unusual for Jonathan lately but the issue lies more in who Steve is currently with.

It was supposed to be a quick mission for information. They’re following a former Hawkins Lab scientist that Mom and Hop had suspected was still conducting research in the apocalyptic hellscape that is now their hometown.

They had just been supposed to follow him and see what he does. Maybe get a bit of a break from Hawkins and the Wheeler house (which had gotten significantly more awkward ever since he and Nancy had broken up).

But no. Steve and Jonathan had tracked the man to a run-down bar a few miles out of town that they managed to sneak in using their new fake IDs. They were supposed to stay in the quiet corner booth they found and watch him. Keep a low profile.

Yet when Jonathan had come back from his brief bathroom break, Steve had been sitting at the bar next to the man himself (unnecessarily close if you asked Jonathan) the grin Jonathan only ever sees used against the girls he tries to go out with firmly on his face.

Jonathan might actually fucking kill him.

It’s bad enough that Steve is openly flirting with a guy in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, Indiana, but he’s flirting with a guy that could—in all likelihood— literally ruin their lives.

Steve leans in close to whisper something in the man’s ear and Jonathan’s stomach twists nauseatingly. 

This is stupid. Steve is stupid. This whole trip was a mistake.

Steve glances back at their table and freezes. His eyes widen and he grimaces. Guilty.

Jonathan glares at him. Crossing his arms, he leans back into the worn leather of their booth. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Jonathan’s heart picks up pace as Steve grabs the man’s shoulder, and leans in close again. It would be so easy for the man to slide a knife into him–for it all to be over in a blink before Jonathan even managed to reach his feet.

The moment passes, however, and Steve pats the man on the back in finality, turning back towards Jonathan. Jonathan stares at him intently as he awkwardly weaves through the cluster of tables and chairs separating them. Focussed on the people between them, very purposefully not the way Steve’s jacket stretches across his shoulders or the way he looks a bit like a puppy scolded after getting into the trash. Cute maybe, if Jonathan was not very very pissed. 

Steve slides into the booth across from him, a sheepish smile already pulling at his lips, “Okay look–”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Jonathan whispers harshly, then realizing the blatant worry in his voice tries to recorrect, “Get both of us killed? Our families maybe?”

Steve blanches, “We should–”

“We said we’d keep a low profile,” Jonathan says–and if maybe he’s a bit hurt about Steve making a decision that risky without him, he’s trying not to show it. “A low profile and you were just flirting–”

“Okay, I wasn’t flirting.”Steve protests before looking over his shoulder quickly and then back at Jonathan, eyes wide, “Jon we need to–” he makes a cutting motion across his neck.

“We’re supposed to be a t–”

“Jon.” Steve grabs one of Jonathan’s hands, stopping the frantic way he’d been gesturing.

Jonathan glances down at their clasped hands, then forces his eyes to meet Steve’s again. Steve’s hand is large and warm and soft. Jonathan might actually be going insane.

Steve just stares at him for a second, eyes wide and pleading. Jonathan swallows thickly. His heart is lost somewhere in his throat. This feels like… like something. Something that Jonathan should probably be running far far away from. 

Somewhere in the blur beyond Steve, Jonathan registers the scientist patting his pockets wildly. He frowns, what the hell?

Noticing the way Jonathan’s gaze shifted, Steve glances behind him again and almost immediately looks away. Letting go of Jonathan’s hand, he slaps his hands on the table and quickly stands, “O-kay,” he whispers, drawing out the syllables. “That’s our cue.”

Jonathan looks at him bewildered, still caught on the way his skin buzzes where Steve had just been touching it. After processing the complete panic that rapidly spreads across Steve’s face, Jonathan follows him, the two of them slowly winding their way to the exit.

Steve grabs Jonathan’s shoulder, fingertips burning where they brush against the bare skin of Jonathan’s collar. He leans in close to whisper in Jonathan’s ear, “So I might’ve stolen his keys.”

Jonathan blinks rapidly, cheeks warm. He glances incredulously at Steve out of the corner of his eye, “What?”

Steve shoots another look over his shoulder and Jonathan barely restrains himself from doing the same, “You know… like in those spy movies.” Steve is grinning bright and smug, “The address is from the next town over from Hawkins, so if we get going quickly…”

Jonathan nods along, “We might be able to find something,” he finishes.

“Booyah,” Steve says and his smile is so blinding that Jonathan can’t look at him.

Steve opens the door for them and the two of them step out into the sunlight, already booking it to Steve’s car. Jonathan sighs, “Just… talk to me first next time. Please.”

Steve winks at him and squeezes his shoulder, “Next time, huh?”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, reluctantly pulling away from Steve’s grasp, “Don’t let it go to your head.”