#neither is ted wheeler

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Summer of '84

Nancy walked into Steve’s house, ready to climb into his arms and sleep. Her mother always believed her when she was spending the night at Ally's, and she wondered when she'd figure out that she wasn't that close with Ally. Bitterly, she thought about the time her mother was more worried about the fact that she lied about having sex than the fact that her best friend was missing. No, she didn't deserve to know. Although she had forgiven Steve when he had been more worried about his dad than Barb, and after meeting his dad, she understood. She didn't understand why her mother was worried about her sex life. The more thought about it, she couldn't find anything wrong with having sex. She wished people would stop treating her like a naive little girl when it came to that. In the end, though, she did forgive her mother, but she still wasn't quite honest about being with Steve.

"Steve?" Nancy called out.

He obviously didn't hear her because he didn't respond back. Nancy climbed up the stairs with her overnight back and pushed open Steve’s bedroom door. She found him kneeling on the floor, the bat in hand, as he peered under the bed. He jumped up when she entered.

"Nance!" He yelled, and his eyes darted from her to the bed. "I was just making sure - "

"There was a spider, wasn't there?" Nancy asked.

"There might have been, and it might have crawled under the bed," Steve said.

Nancy smiled in amusement, dropped her bag, and grabbed a flashlight. She grabbed the glass from his end table that he usually used for water. She looked on the other side of his bed. It didn't take her long before she found the culprit and trapped it under the glass. She opened his window and quickly used a piece of paper to slide under the glass. Nancy picked it up and tossed the spider out the window.

"There! He's gone now," Nancy said.

"Oh, my hero!" Steve grinned.

"Hm, really?" She smiled.

"Yeah, I love it when my girlfriend protects me," Steve said. "Makes me feel safe."

Nancy walked over to him and pulled the bat out of his arms. She wrapped her own around his neck.

"What's my reward?" Nancy asked.

Steve smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Nancy grinned against his lips, sighing as Steve’s hands gripped her waste gently as he returned the kiss. She loved his soft lips. . .so soft and plump. She couldn't say how many times she watched him put on lip gloss. She nibbled on his bottom lip before pulling away.

"Thanks," Steve said softly.

She still couldn't believe that she'd been with Steve Harrington for the last five months. He really had changed since he decided to walk back into Jonathan's house that fateful night with the demogorgon. He had really stepped up, and he still does it now. He doesn't have to go with her to Barb's parents, but he does it, knowing how hard it is. It was only getting harder as time went by. He was just as soft as he had been with her before, and maybe even more so, now. He gave it all up to be with her. . .his popularity, his friends. . . everything he had known. She loved him for it. So, what's the cost of killing a spider compared to the sacrifices he made?

"No problem," she said smiling.

"Do you think that we could just sleep tonight?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Nancy said. "I was thinking the same thing, honestly."

She pulled off her dress and bra before slipping into one of Steve's swim shirts. She climbed into the bed first and watched Steve change into his pajamas. There were just a pair of shorts, really. Nothing special except for the way they clung to his hips. It always made Nancy's heart skip a beat. Steve climbed into bed, and Nancy flopped onto her back, pulling the man into her arms. She loved it when he slept on her chest and she especially loved the way that the scent of his hair wafted into her nose, the softness of it brushing against her cheek as thought it was caressing her. Five months ago. . .well, actually, more like six, Steve was friends with Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins. Now, here he was. . .

"I can hear the wheels turning in there," Steve said.

"Do you miss Tommy and Carol?" Nancy asked.

"What? What brought this on?" he asked.

"We've been dating for the past five months, you know," Nancy said and paused. "I just don't think I've ever asked you about giving them up."

"I miss Tommy, I'll always miss Tommy," Steve said. "I missed him when we were friends at the end, too. He wasn't the same Tommy that I used to know. He got really mean when he started dating Carol. It didn't matter how many times I told them to stop. There was nothing I could say or do could stop them from being assholes. Walking away from them was always going to happen. You coming into my life, just made it happen faster. I don't regret walking away from them."

"I'm just worried about you not having a whole lot of friends anymore," Nancy said.

"Nancy Wheeler, you're more than enough for me," Steve said, looking up at her. "I'm happy, okay."

"Yeah, okay," Nancy said.

Steve leaned up and kissed her before moving his head back to her chest. It felt a little overwhelming to know that she was the only good thing that he had in his life. There were his parents, but she wouldn't count on them, and neither would Steve. . .well, maybe his mother. Although, she seemed to be just as absent as his father, but Steve seemed to have rose colored glasses when it came to her. Nancy sighed. She loved Steve, and she wanted him to have more in his life than just her because what if something happened?

"Goodnight," she whispered and smiled when his snores filled the air.

The next day, Steve and Nancy got ready to head off to the community pool. Steve would be performing his duties as a lifeguard while Nancy would be sitting poolside reading. Although, occasionally, she'd look up to watch him look out for everyone's safety. The view wasn't so bad either. When they got to the pool, Steve gave her a kiss before heading to the back to change and relieve Heather Holloway from duty. Nancy was just about to stretch out in a lawn chair when she spotted her mother and her friends.

"Mom?" She asked softly.

Nancy frowned. Karen had told her that she had errands to run, and that's why they couldn't get their hair done today. Was this one of those errands? Karen and her friends were watching Heather as if they were anticipating something. They looked really nice. . .too nice to be sitting by the pool. Then it clicked. They were waiting for Heather to leave. They wanted to see. . .oh god, they wanted to see Steve. She wanted to vomit. Nancy got up and hurried to the locker room where Steve was in the middle of changing.

"Nancy!"

"Wear a shirt today," Nancy said.

She hoped he wouldn't be flattered when she told him.

"Why?" Steve asked. "I mean, I'll do it. . ."

"My mother and her friends are out there today," Nancy said. "And they're a little too eager to see you up there."

"Ew," Steve said, scrunching up his face. "I mean - "

"No, that was the correct response," Nancy replied.

She waited for him to finish changing before walking out with him. Standing up in front of everyone, Nancy pulled Steve into a deep kiss. She broke the kiss quickly, smirking at the goofy smile on Steve’s face. She moved back to her seat, ignoring the feeling of her mother's eyes on her. Nancy opened her book, but she couldn't read a single word of it. She stayed with Steve again that night, and when she walked into her house, Karen was waiting for her in the kitchen. Ted was at work, and Holly had been dropped at the Sinclairs. She assumed that Mike was at Will's.

"Can we talk?" Karen asked. "I made some coffee."

"I'm sure it will go great with the disgust I feel knowing that my mother is lusting after my boyfriend like she's a teenage girl," Nancy said.

"I didn't know you were going to be there. You told me that you were going to be at Aly's," Karen said.

"So, that makes it okay? I lied, too, so it makes it okay for you to do that?" Nancy asked with a scoff.

"Of course not," Karen said. "I'm ashamed of myself. I didn't want you to see me being so weak."

"You made it into such a big deal that I slept with Steve," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. "I didn't want to make you even more uncomfortable with the idea that I had a sex life, so I didn't tell you that I was spending most of my nights with Steve. The fact that you're drooling over him is the problem, the biggest, in fact."

"You shouldn't have to do that. You should be able to tell me these things," Karen said.

"And you should be able to deal with the fact that I'm having sex," Nancy said.

"I'm sorry about all of this, Nancy," Karen said. "You have no idea how guilty I feel about this. I really tried to ignore it, Nancy. I did."

Nancy huffed and fixed her a cup. She sighed as she took a sip. It did seem to help soothe her stomach. She stared out the kitchen window, trying to figure out how she wanted to deal with this. Men and women weren't so different, as much as they tried to pretend they were. A lot of women tried to deny that they wouldn't go on looks alone, that they're not as shallow as a lot of men were. Nancy was guilty about doing it on occasion. It was what drew her to Steve, but what really pulled her in was the fact that she felt it in her bones that underneath all that hair, Steve Harrington had heart. Society wanted them to have this barrier, that men should believe that they're better than women just because a lot of them, not all, are physically stronger. There was an air of superiority that women felt, that they themselves wanted to believe, that they're better than men because they don't view sex the same way they do. Standing in the kitchen with her mother, it wasn't true at all. Women and men were the same way in that aspect. She couldn't blame her for how she felt, but she could blame her for how she chose to act on it.

"I don't blame you for being attracted to Steve. He's a beautiful young man, inside and out," Nancy said as she turned around.

"Does that mean - ," Karen started to say.

"I'm not ready to forgive you yet," she said.

She wasn't perfect either. Nancy had her own struggles to deal with. Including her own attraction to Jonathan.

"Nancy," Karen pleaded.

Nancy sighed and sipped her coffee as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"You're the adult here, mother, and I'm not naive to think that you're not going to make mistakes but this. . .I mean, I totally understand not being able to control how you feel sometimes, but you knew how wrong it was. You're old enough to understand that openly gazing at someone who's the same age as your daughter, who's dating your daughter, is wrong! And you did that with your friends! You made that decision! Steve is a teenager, and he managed to tell his friends off and walk away from them," Nancy said.

"I'm sorry, Nancy," Karen said tearfully.

"I love you. You're a good mother. . .although this isn't a good look for you," Nancy said. "You and Dad have done so much for us, but neither one of you is perfect. There are times, however, that I feel more like the parent than you or dad. It shouldn't be like that. It feels a lot like that now."

"I don't know how I got here, Nancy," Karen said.

"I think you do, mom," Nancy said. "You don't want to admit it. We all have a problem with communicating in this family, especially with ourselves. You and Dad both know what you have to do, but you're choosing to ignore it."

"I'm sor - ," Karen started to say.

"You've already said that," Nancy said. "All the times that I've been with Steve, I never wanted to control myself. I never wanted to hold myself back because I knew there wasn't anything wrong with how I felt. It wouldn't have been wrong because I'm the same age, I'm attracted to him, and now I'm in love with him. Judging me for sleeping with him and then turning around to spread yourself out like that. . .that's what pisses me off. You're a hypocrite. . . But I think most, if not all, people are, though."

"Are you okay?" Karen asked.

"I'm trying to be okay with what you did," Nancy sighed.

"You really don't have to forgive me right now, be mad at me as long as you want to," Karen said.

"He's my boyfriend, mom, mine!" Nancy snapped. "I don't want to see you at the pool again."

Nancy finished her coffee and walked up to her room. She laid on the bed, hugging her bear and wishing that Barb were here. Women weren't infallible. They fuck up just as much as men do but this mistake doesn't wipe away all the good that she's done for them over the years. Nancy herself wasn't perfect either, but she refused to make the same mistake her mom did. She didn't want to hurt Steve the way she hurt Nancy or the way she almost hurt Ted. He wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve what Karen almost did. She wasn't going to be like her mom or her dad. . .well, she wasn't going to be the worst part of themselves, anyway. The problem was that they couldn't admit that they're no longer in love. She also knew that sometimes things hurt so much that you can't just seem to let go of what's safe.

"Fuck," Nancy whispered, wiping her eyes, and wished once again that Barb was here.

It took a couple of days for Nancy to even start speaking to their mother. Another couple for Nancy to realize that Karen didn't get there on her own, that maybe she had transferred her feelings of loneliness into something else. It wasn't just Ted but their responsibility as well. At least she hoped it was only a pseudo attraction and not her mother actually being attracted to men the same age as Nancy. Either way, Nancy spent the next couple of weeks trying to work on her relationship with her mother and father. She went shopping with Karen and when she wasn't shopping with Karen, she was watching TV with her father and talking about books. Books were actually one of the things she had in common with Ted and one of the things she could talk about with him. Although getting her mother and father to actually speak to each other was the trickiest part. It was hard to do when her mother found fault in everything that Ted did. No wonder Ted stopped trying. Holly was the easiest one to talk to, but Mike was the hardest to reach. He was still pretty angry over the fact that El was gone, and despite the fact that she knew what it was to lose someone, she didn't know how to talk to him.

"So, how is everything?" Steve asked as Nancy curled up against him.

After spending time with her family and being driven crazy, Nancy finally decided to spend time with her boyfriend. His parents were gone once again, so she was relaxing from the drama by watching TV on Steve’s couch.

"Still very tense at home. I can't get mom to talk about what she really needs to talk with dad," Nancy sighed. "I think she's scared of going out on her own. . .I mean, without dad for her to lean on."

"Yeah, after being married for so long, I get that," Steve said. "I think if anyone can inspire her, it's you."

"You think so?" Nancy asked.

"I know it. You're an inspiration, Nancy Wheeler," Steve said. "You inspire me everyday."

Nancy smiled and kissed him deeply before tucking her head into his shoulder.

"So, how's it going making more friends?" Nancy asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Steve frowned.

"Steve, come on, talk to me, please?" Nancy asked.

"Well, I tried to approach Eddie Munson about joining Hellfire," Steve said.

"Really?" Nancy asked.

"I was curious about all of that Dungeons and Demons game your brother plays," Steve said.

"Dungeons and Dragons," Nancy said, laughing. "And how did it go?"

"Well, he laughed at me and then told me to fuck off. No matter how many times I told him I was serious, he didn't believe that I wasn't just fucking with him like Tommy apparently used to," Steve said.

"Do you want me to beat him up?" Nancy asked.

"That would be hilarious for Munson but no," Steve snorted.

"Aren't there any potential players on your team?" Nancy asked.

"Patrick Mckinney is nice, but he also shadows Jason Carver, who's not so nice," Steve said.

"Well, you used to hang out with Tommy and Carol," Nancy pointed out.

"That's true," Steve said. "I suppose I could give it a shot."

"It definitely wouldn't hurt to try," Nancy said. "Which I think you should."

"Why are you trying so hard?" Steve asked.

"I just don't want you to be alone if anything happens," Nancy said.

"Hey, you're going to be okay, and and so am I," Steve said. "I am okay, Nance."

"I just worry about you, sometimes," Nancy said.

"I like that you worry about me," Steve said and kissed her. "I worry about you, too."

"I'm okay," she whispered, and then her eyes lit up. "Jonathan!"

"I'm Steve," he replied.

"Shut up!" Nancy laughed and slapped his chest. "I should set up a play date between you and Jonathan!"

"Okay, never call it that again, and do you really think that Jonathan would want to be friends with me?" Steve asked.

"Yes! He needs to see how great you are," Nancy said.

"Alright, if you can convince him," Steve said. "I'll do anything you ask me to."

"Really?" She asked with a mischievous grin.

"Within reason, I'll do anything you ask me to within reason, and so far, everything you've asked of me sounds pretty damn reasonable," Steve said. "Although, don't be surprised if it doesn't work out."

Steve grabbed the remote and changed the channel.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Nancy exclaimed.

"No, you weren't. Besides, Magnum is on," Steve said.

"Ooh, I do love Tom Selleck," Nancy said and squeezed Steve’s thighs. "He's got great legs like someone I know."

"Hm, he's got a great mustache, I definitely would give it a ride," Steve said.

"Steve!" Nancy giggled. "Hopper has a mustache."

"Mm, yeah, he does," Steve said, and Nancy buried her face in his chest as she giggled some more.

"Stop," she said.

"Don't worry, baby, you're definitely hotter than Tom Selleck," Steve said.

"You take that back," she said with a gasp.

Steve laughed as they snuggled deeper into the couch, propping their feet up onto the coffee table, their matching painted pink toenails shining under the light. For once, neither one of them were trying to be perfect. . .just live in the moment.

"Hey, do you think it's too soon to joke about you and your mom having the same taste in men?" Steve asked.

"Yes, asshole!" Nancy shrieked, sitting up.

She grabbed a pillow and hit him repeatedly. Steve laughed as he shielded himself with his arms. He grabbed the other pillow and hit Nancy. She shrieked with laughter as she fell back onto the couch. Steve rolled off the couch and took off. Nancy ran off after him, trying to hit him with her pillow. Steve dodged and weaved.

"You don't have a chance," Steve taunted.

He turned around and hit her bottom with the pillow. She tried to hold in her giggle but failed. She managed to hit him back. He responded with another hit, and she fell back with a fake gasp.

"Steve!" Nancy yelled in mock outrage.

"Shit, Nance, I'm sorry," Steve said.

He hurried over to her and gave her his hand. Suddenly, Nancy gave him a wicked smile and grabbed his hand. She yanked him onto the floor next to her.

"Gotchya!" Nancy exclaimed.

"You tricked me," Steve said.

"Of course I did," Nancy said and straddled his waist.

Steve’s hands went to her hips, holding her steady and her smile wide.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Nancy leaned down and kissed him, enjoying having him underneath her. Outside, the pool where Barb died still resided, a constant reminder that she was gone. That thought constantly lingered in her mind, whispering to her that it was her fault, especially the closer it got to the one year anniversary of Barbara's death. She didn't want to think about that, though, or the fact that she had feelings for Jonathan. All she wanted to do was live in this moment with Steve and enjoy the fact that she was in love with him. . .that neither one of them was alone.

[wheelercore]

Perpetually insane about the michael meyers- ted bundy- freddy krueger references in s4 so I was thinking about the halloween 2 reveal being that Laurie was Michael's little sister the entire time and was just too young to remember Michael stabbing their sister Judith, but also how Freddy Krueger killed his adoptive father by in part stabbing him in the eyes with a razor blade (which was directly referenced imo with Victor gouging his own eyes out with a razor). Which i mean, two is definitely not a Trend but you know... interesting choice of fictional serial killers where their first victims were their family members.

Which down the rabbit hole of the rosemary coding of various characters, inc Angela (which literally means messenger of god or *victor creel voice* Angel), who is hit and bloodied by El using a rollerblade (obvious play on words or am i just sleepy and cornplating lol)

Which is interesting with all the the resemblances to Karens early s3 outfits in Angelas rink o mania fit, when flayed billy resisted the urge to harm Karen

and of course the more Curious Case of Rosemary!Tabitha who is "dying" (but not really), apparently choking because her throat was slit.

Also El similarly covered in rose imagery being choked in the end of s4.

Thinking in 4D chess rn i just think that mike's phineas gage reference (ptsd metaphor from s2) with the arrow shot to the head upon entering the Bingham residence and eventually coming across tabitha inc the wedding veil that time (miketed clothing parallels strike again)

[skeltnwrites]

At Least It’s Not the End of the World ♡

After protecting the kids from demodogs and sentient tunnel vines with Steve, a weekend babysitting Holly Wheeler together is supposed to be simple. That is until feelings neither of you expected start to make things way more complicated.

gn!reader, takes place in between seasons two and three, people who fight monsters together to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff 16k

── .✦

It doesn’t take long to remember why Holly is your favorite Wheeler. She’s patient and sweet, amazingly level-headed for a preschooler, and her manners could put some adults to shame. Compared to her siblings, Holly’s a little sweetheart. And a mama’s girl through and through, clinging to Mrs. Wheeler more often than not. 

Like now, she wriggles in her mom’s lap, scrunched over a coloring book at the dinner table. She squints at her box of crayons and purses her lips— choosing colors is hard when you’re five. She hasn’t said a peep since you arrived, but in the foyer, she greeted you with a clumsy wave and a sheepish smile. 

“It would be Friday afternoon to Monday morning,” Mrs. Wheeler explains, stirring a glass of lemonade with a curly straw. “I’d ask Nance but she’s having a girl's weekend.” 

You glance at Steve. You know girl’s weekend is code for spending the night with Jonathan Byers. But if he knows it too, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at her words. In fact, he’s relaxed under Mrs. Wheeler’s gaze. He’s sitting in a chair he’s sat in dozens of times before, talking to a woman he sees more frequently than his own mother. 

You don’t know her as well as he does, but you aren’t strangers by any means. 

“And Mike, well, he’s not old enough to watch her for that long. But he’ll be staying over at Joyce’s so you don’t have to worry about him,” she pauses to sip her drink. “I’d pay you, of course. I don’t know what your schedules look like— I know you’re probably busy with the new job, Steve— but I figured since it’s a few days, I’d offer it to you both.” 

Steve flashes an honest smile and leans forward. “Are you kidding? I’d hang with this squirt for free. I’m actually off this weekend so it works out.” 

Mrs. Wheeler beams, eyes springing to yours. 

“Yeah, I could help too,” you shrug. You also happen to be free this weekend and the extra cash would be nice. 

“Great! You both are so lovely. Oh, I was so worried, I kept telling Ted– well, it doesn’t matter now.” Her bracelets clink and clash as she reaches across the table to cover your hand with hers. “You’ll have to keep an eye on these two. She becomes quite the riot when her Stevie comes over.” 

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in defense. “She owes me a rematch at Candyland so I can’t promise anything.” 

Mrs. Wheeler’s fingers retract from yours, landing on the end of Holly’s pigtail. “She’s really missed having you over. Asks about you still.” 

Holly ducks her nose into her paper, pink traveling up her ears. 

“Is that right?” Steve teases. “I’ll have to swing by more often.” 

“Please. You’re welcome anytime, Steve. Whether Nancy’s here or not.” Her attention drifts to you. “And the same goes for you. Mike won’t stop talking about that comic book you gave him.” 

A smug grin surfaces. Out of all of the kids, Mike is a tough one to please. 

“I’ve never been away from Holly for so long. But I trust you guys.” Mrs. Wheeler pecks Holly’s crown to hide a wobbly smile, her sentence spilling out in a breathy string of words.

She really does trust you both. It would take another set of hands to count the number of times either you or Steve had driven her kids home safely. This is just different. She loves all of her kids equally, but Holly’s her baby. 

Holly’s eyes cast up at her mention, bright as a sunlit gem. 

Mrs. Wheeler smooths her daughter’s sleeves down her shoulders. “But Holly’s a good girl. Right, Hollybear?” 

She turns to bury a toothy smile in her mother’s shirt. 

Mrs. Wheeler is meticulous as she presents each and every detail of Holly’s routine. From car seat safety to emergency contacts to allergies, she covers every question you might have before you have it. 

Steve’s a good listener but he’s cursed with a very short attention span. Mrs. Wheeler lost him somewhere around Holly’s sudden aversion to mac and cheese, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You’ll fill in the gaps for him later. 

This won’t be the first time you’ve babysat with Steve. Dustin roped you both into hunting his pet lizard-turned-alien which very quickly escalated to protecting four children from not one, but several, vicious aliens. Safe to say you two are experienced enough to handle one kid for a couple of nights. 

You haven’t seen Steve much since then. It’s summer now. The demodogs and sentient tunnel vines feel much more like a dream than something that actually happened to you these days. Steve works at the Scoops in Starcourt, or so you’ve heard several times– Dustin only reminds you about every time you see him. But despite being as close to death as you’ve ever been beside Steve, visiting him at work feels strangely wrong. Like crossing a line that neither of you ever drew. 

You would not consider Steve Harrington your friend. You’re friendly, as you might be with a neighbor or coworker, but you don’t talk much outside of ​​world-ending, portal-to-another-dimension kind of events. He’s family in a weird sort of way, bound by the shared trauma and unspoken loyalty— like someone you only see at family reunions, familiar enough to care about but still a stranger in most ways. High school was a long blur and your circle of friends couldn’t have been farther from his. So you don’t know Steve, not really. But of what little pieces of him you have come to know in the last year, he’s not half bad at babysitting.

ᯓ★

On Friday afternoon, you park your car beside Steve’s shiny BMW in the Wheeler’s driveway. You take the house key that had been slipped from Mrs. Wheeler’s key ring to yours and unlock the front door. And you find that inside, it’s completely silent. Holly’s quiet as a mouse but she’s still a kid and kids make noise. 

Your bag drops onto the floor beside Steve’s shoes as you toe off your own. When the kitchen and living room turn up empty you jog upstairs. Alarm sinks in on the last step where you still hear nothing. No shouting, no laughing, no crying, no nothing. 

There’s a large window in the hall upstairs, dividing Nancy’s room from Mike's and Holly’s. In your panic, you miss the suspicious lumps in the drapes that frame it. 

As you brush by, Steve rips the curtain across the rod and shouts, “Ha! Gotch– Oh.” 

Your entire body jerks, fear cinching every nerve. “Christ! Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry!” 

Your nostrils flare with hot air as you shove him, “You scared me!” 

His open palms hover in between your chests, unsure how to help. “I thought you were Holly. Sorry.” He gives you an apologetic once-over before a breathy chuckle escapes. 

“It’s not funny. All the shit we’ve been through. God.” He’s lucky you didn’t punch him. A part of you still wants to. 

“Mommy says that’s not a nice word,” Holly says from behind you. 

You turn, shoulders sagging in relief. “I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.” 

“Stevie, I was supposed to find you,” she whines incredulously, hands planted on her hips. 

“We can go again. I’ll find a new spot.” 

Her frown mends as quickly as it appeared and she skips back to her room to count. 

“Sorry,” Steve reminds you. “Help me find a spot to hide?” 

Soft eyes, a softer smile. It’s hard to stay mad when he looks at you like that. “Okay.” 

Twenty seconds isn’t very long to hide. Especially when Holly counts as fast as she does and when you spend half of your time standing in the hall. So you end up crouched in the corner of Mike’s closet, Steve arched over you, trying his hardest not to crush your toes. 

“Jesus. Does this kid even wash his clothes?” Steve whisper-shouts. “It smells like something died in here.” His palm snaps to the wall behind your head, the flesh of his arm warming your ear.

“You actually couldn’t have picked a worse place. Oh my God.” You press the neckline of your shirt over your nose. Steve’s wearing enough cologne to drown out the stench of dirty socks, though it’s choking you all the same. 

“We had like three seconds. I panicked!” 

You’re glaring at him but only a fraction of light filters in from underneath the door so you’d guess he doesn't see. 

The closet is the first place Holly checks when she barges into Mike’s room, but you’ve never been happier to be caught so fast. 

“My turn!” She glows in victory, pigtails swishing like yellow ribbons as she shouts. 

Steve huffs. “Let’s take a break. We’ve been playing for like an hour.” 

“Can we play tag?”

“In a little while. I’m tired.” He pinches her neck playfully until she squirms out of reach. “How’d you have all that energy?”

She shrugs with her whole body. “I dunno. I’m a kid.” 

A laugh bubbles out of your throat. When your eyes flit to Steve you find him already smiling at you. 

“What about something a little more chill,” you suggest. “We could color?” 

“Bracelets?” 

“You want to make some?” 

She nods, “I can’t reach them. The beads are on top of my closet.”  

“I’ll get ‘em,” Steve offers. “Come show me where.” 

You fan out her multitude of craft containers across the kitchen table. Beads, charms, strings, all neatly filed away. She pops open a lid and plunks down across from you. Steve takes the seat at the end in between. 

“What color bracelet are you gonna make?” you ask, raking through the rainbow of options. 

“Umm, yellow. No– green!” 

“Nice. Here’s a cute little frog charm. Want that?” 

“Mmmm. No, thank you.” 

“I’ll take it,” Steve says, stretching his hand toward you. 

You drop it in the center of his palm where it clinks against a handful of blue beads. They’re pretty and vibrant like the sea. A flicker of an idea pulls you to grab your own handful. 

Holly slides four beads onto a string, two lime green and two baby pink. She drags the other end up and they all slip off, bouncing in separate directions across the table. You smack one before it dives onto the floor and Steve catches another two mid-air. 

“Can you help me tie it?” Holly asks from under her chair, searching for the fourth. 

“Sure.” Steve swaps his bracelet for hers, triple knotting one end. “I like these colors.”

She resurfaces with a grin, voice lilting as she speaks, “Do you like purple?”

“Yeah, purple’s okay. Do you?” 

She nods, pinching a lilac gem and examining it. 

You slip into a peaceful rhythm. The bead bin rattles as Steve digs his fingers in. He murmurs something about sparkles as he shuffles. Every now and then, you peek up at him. And each time, you find that he’s fully absorbed in this, rubbing his chin or poking his tongue out in concentration. You’d even bet he’s having fun. 

“Can you tie it on me,” Holly asks when she finishes. 

Steve takes her hand gently, fingers engulfing her tinier ones. “This good?” He tugs the strings across each other at her permission, sealing it with an extra knot for good measure.  

Holly starts a second one as you finish your first. You hold it up triumphantly for them to see– red and blue beads between every white pearl. 

“Very patriotic,” Steve teases. 

“It’s for you. For scoops. These are the colors right?” 

He softens, eyes rounding like brown buttons. “Wait, really? Thank you. Wow.” He inspects it fondly where you release it in his palm. “Will you tie it?” His arm shoots over to your side of the table. 

You feel his gaze shift from the bracelet to your face as you lace it. And you pretend that it doesn’t make your cheeks burn. 

“You don’t have to wear it to Scoops if you don’t want to,” you mumble, releasing his wrist. 

“What? Of course, I’m wearing it. No one’s ever made me a bracelet before.” 

Your lips bend up into your cheeks as he leans back in his seat. He twists and turns his arm, looking it over again with a similar expression. “Now, it was supposed to be a surprise, but since I’m almost done, I actually made this for you.” He scoops up the piece he’s been working on and waves it in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow and smirk. “You sure you didn’t just decide that since I gave you one.” 

“I didn’t! I was planning this the whole time! Right Holly, didn’t I say that?”

“No?” 

“Holly, come on now.” He elbows her arm. “Supposed to back me up.” 

“But you didn’t,” she giggles. 

“Holly doesn’t lie, Steve.” 

“Okay, I didn’t say it. But I thought it. I was gonna give it to you I swear.” He jams another couple of beads on his string. “See! Look, it has your favorite color on there.” 

“It has every color on there.” 

“One of which is your favorite.” 

You roll your eyes as he takes your wrist. His hands are warmer than yours, softer than you expect too. He stills as your palm flips face up. A jagged, fleshy ridge runs from the bottom of your pinky to the meat of your thumb. Steve was there when you got the scar. He’s never said it, but you know he blames himself for it. A demodog had you pinned in that damned junkyard school bus so Steve pushed you out of the way but you caught yourself on a broken window. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His head dips in a silent nod. He isn’t sure whether to believe you or not. Either way, he feels sorry still.

His bracelet is a statement piece for sure. It truly has every color under the sun and a random assortment of charms and shells. But it’s sweet that he gave it to you. Even if he totally did not plan to do so at first. 

He makes a second bracelet for Holly with purple string and butterfly pendants. Holly gives her next one to him as thanks, then begins on a third for you. 

Steve stands from the table. “I’m hungry. Grilled cheese okay for dinner Holly?” She nods as do you when he asks you the same. 

Your focus drifts between him and the necklace you’re starting for Holly. He coasts around the kitchen naturally, like you imagine he would in his own house. But it’s a bizarre sight. Steve Harrington cooking you food, in the Wheeler’s kitchen out of all places. 

And he’s about as good as a chef as you expect him to be. He’s clumsy and uncertain, even dropping a spatula on the floor with an, “Oh, shi–ugar…” But he kindly refuses to accept any help or advice when you offer. 

He eventually swings around the kitchen island, brimming with pride, one plate in each hand. They’re set in the space you’ve cleared and you quickly see that the sandwiches have been cut adorably into stars. You just as quickly see– and smell– how burnt they are. They aren’t black, they’re edible for sure. But Holly’s five, and polite as she is, most kids would never willingly eat this. 

So you aren’t surprised when she looks at it in disgust, borderline horror. 

“Look, it’s a star,” Steve beams, oblivious. 

Your chest aches with the desire to laugh and an equal pang of sympathy. 

Holly shakes her head, visibly toning down her expression for his sake. “Can I have something else?” 

“It’s good! I promise, just try it.” 

She slowly shakes no again. 

“Steve,” a peel of laughter escapes your lips. “It’s burnt.” 

He scoffs. “It’s not that burnt.” 

Your mouth twitches in a funny little line and your eyes leap between him and the plate. “It’s pretty burnt, Steve.” 

After a moment of silence, he sighs and picks both plates back up. 

“Wait,” you shout, “I’ll still eat mine! Mine isn’t that bad. You did a good job!” 

He sulks at you. “You’re just saying that. I’ll make new ones.” 

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll eat this one. I don’t mind.” 

He plants the plate in your grabby hands and spins back toward the stove. 

Round two is much better, still star-shaped, and a few shades lighter. Holly thanks him more than once while eating it without you even asking her to. If only Nancy and Mike were as precious as her. And Steve eats the first attempt, now cold, and admits that it tastes, “slightly burnt.” 

You take the empty plates to the sink to wash while Steve and Holly lug the jewelry kits back upstairs. You meet them in Holly’s room after. They’re playing house, Steve the dad, and Holly the mom, with four babydolls for children. She appoints you to be the neighbor when you join. 

You knock on her bedpost, pretending it’s her front door. “Holly, in one hour you’re gonna take a bath.”

Her head pops out from under the blanket. “Can we watch a movie before bed?” 

“Sure, but we have to do bath now if you wanna watch the whole thing.” 

“Okay!” She kicks the sheets away, jumping off the bed in a race to the bathroom. Steve winces as she steps on his hand. 

“Do you need help?” he asks, sprawled across the bed, socked feet hanging over the edge. 

“No, I got it. You can rest in peace now,” you joke, halfway through the door. 

Holly is self-sufficient enough to bathe herself so all you have to do is supervise. You find a matching polka dot set of pajamas in her dresser and a towel under the bathroom sink. And she gets dry and dressed all by herself, Miss Independent. 

“So there’s The Little Mermaid, E.T., Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory…” Steve trails off, kneeling in front of the entertainment center. 

Holly hands him a VHS tape, “This one?” 

“Ooh, good pick.” Steve feeds the tape into the player and rewinds it. 

You pat the couch cushion beside yours as Holly skips over. Steve hits the light before flopping into the recliner with a satisfied groan. The Jungle Book glows to life on the TV, casting an indigo wash over each of your faces. Holly curls into herself, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them.

“Here,” Steve chucks a blanket from the basket at his side. 

“Thanks.” You scoop it off the floor where it missed the couch and billow it out over you and Holly. “Don’t fall asleep, Harrington.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve folds one leg over the other and crosses his arms, eyes glued to the screen. He reminds you of Mr. Wheeler sitting in his recliner like that. It’s alarming how attractive you find it. He’s not even doing anything worth staring at. You force your eyes back on the TV. 

The credits scroll up the screen for a whole minute before you realize the movie has ended. You aren’t asleep but you aren’t totally awake either. Steve’s not far off by the looks of it and Holly, on the other hand, was out like a light halfway through. Her head presses into your upper arm, her hand scrunched in the blanket on your thigh. The weight is nice, making it all the harder to pick yourself up and get her to bed. 

But thankfully Steve’s there to help. He twists in his chair until his back clicks, smiling when he catches sight of you and Holly. “I’ll carry her up,” he whispers. 

You gently work Holly’s stubborn fingers from the blanket as Steve stands. He pushes the rest of the fabric into your lap before bending to scoop Holly up. 

“Be right back,” he says, starting toward the stairs. 

You tug the blanket higher, seeking lost comfort in its folds, though it doesn’t compare to the warmth Holly provided. 

Steve pads back down not a minute later. He stops on the last step, hanging over the railing. “You awake?” 

“Barely,” you mumble. 

Steve plods up to the front door to check the locks. He orbits into the kitchen and then back around to the living room to turn the TV off. He’s being the responsible one. You aren’t sure why this surprises you. 

“Come on,” he opens his hand toward you. 

Your arm snakes out from under the blanket, and he lifts you effortlessly. You’ve seen how strong he is, how he fights, but it still surprises you. 

“I was gonna suggest another movie but I don’t think either of us’ll make it.” 

You catch a yawn from Steve. “I know. I’m so tired. It’s not even late.” 

He hums from behind you on the stairs. “Yeah. Who knew this’d be so exhausting.” He’s only being slightly sarcastic. There’s an obvious truth to what he implied, but at the same time, it is so much harder than you realized it would be. 

You stop at the landing, sluggishly turning to face Steve. “Well, goodnight, I guess.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You splinter into opposite ends of the hall. Steve let you have Nancy’s room for obvious reasons, though he wasn’t thrilled about crashing in Mike’s bed. He’s probably better off on the couch after seeing the kid’s closet. 

You change into cozier clothes and untuck Nancy’s quilt. Like with Steve, you and Nancy aren’t really friends. It’s strange being in her room, settling into her bed. And it’s almost stranger that Steve is sleeping across the hall. Yet, there’s an odd comfort in it— being surrounded by people who went through the same thing you did. 

ᯓ★

There’s thumping in the hall– footsteps, too light to be Steve’s. You fight the urge to go back to sleep. Holly needs a babysitter. But it’s not an easy feat, not when you’re swaddled like a baby in blankets much softer than the ones you have at home. You’re warm and it’s so quiet it feels like a gift; that is, until you remind yourself that kids and quiet don’t usually go hand and hand. She could be answering the door to a stranger, scaling the counters, setting the kitchen on fire, the possibilities are endless. 

You force your heavy eyes open and flinch as a much brighter pair come into focus. 

Holly bends over you with this innocent endearment you cannot possibly be mad to be woken by. “Told you, Stevie,” she says. 

“No, you woke ‘em up, goofball.” Steve lingers at the foot of the bed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a faded Olympics tee. You’ve never seen him in pajamas before, or anything quite like it. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and rub your eyes for a better look. 

“Sorry,” he supplies. His voice is still raspy with sleep and his oh-so-perfect hair shoots up in wild peaks. The sight makes your chest buzz. “She said you had to get up to.” 

You redirect your attention to Holly, pinching the neckline of your shirt back over your shoulder as you sit up. 

“Can we have eggs?” she asks you. 

“Sure.” 

She traps her lip between her two frontmost baby teeth. “Five?” 

“Five eggs!” Steve chides. “Just for you?” 

She turns to nod at him, smile blooming. 

He wears the same joy, ruffling her already unruly bed-head. “What are you a linebacker?” 

She giggles, clueless as to what he’s talking about. 

“Let’s start with two and if you’re still hungry you can have more,” you compromise. 

You are undeniably a better cook than Steve, but the bar is low after yesterday. You serve scrambled eggs and unburnt toast. Holly looks at her plate like she hasn’t been fed a day in her life and she shovels spoonfuls of it in her mouth like it’s her last meal. 

Steve watches her with an anxious frown. “Smaller bites, Holl.” 

She nods but doesn’t exactly slow her pace. Steve chases your eyes, knocking your ankle with his when you don’t look. He gives you that funny face parents make. Help me out. 

You shrug. “It’s just eggs. Babies eat eggs.” 

He cycles through several emotions—frustration that you won’t back him up, disbelief that babies eat eggs, and a lingering fear that she might choke. But he stops himself from asking all the what-ifs, he trusts you. 

Holly swallows half of her glass of chocolate milk in one go. Steve looks mildly horrified. 

“My God. She’s like a little human vacuum,” he mumbles through a mouthful of toast. 

You snort into your glass. If Holly heard him, she’s too preoccupied to care. 

After breakfast, Steve sets her up in front of the TV to watch cartoons while you clear the table. He disappears into the basement in search of a board game but comes back with some deflated, plastic thing. 

“What happened to the board game?” you ask. “What even is that?” 

“It’s a kiddie pool. Let’s go outside. It’s nice out.” 

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” 

“Me neither. Just wear that.” 

You wrinkle your nose down at your pajamas. “Go see if she wants to.” 

He smiles, retreating back into the living room. Shortly after, he shouts, “She said yes!” Footsteps pound up the stairs, followed by a second shout, “Don’t run!” 

Mrs. Wheeler calls the house phone and is pleased to hear your good report. She reminds you several times to apply sunscreen to Holly’s ears and that there’s an extra can in the upstairs bathroom. You wrangle Holly over to put her on and promise to call back before bedtime when she refuses to hang up. 

You sift through your bag, changing into the closest thing to swimwear. Steve takes forever in the bathroom, which doesn’t surprise you one bit. He comes out in a crisp white tee, way too expensive-looking for a pool day, and a pair of red gym shorts. 

“What are you, the lifeguard?” you joke. 

His hands snap to his hips. “Uhh, I’ll have you know I’ve been a certified lifeguard for two years, so yeah, actually.” 

You roll your eyes, brushing past him for the extra can of sunscreen. “Are you ready? Holly’s waiting.” 

“Yeah. Let me go blow up the pool. I’ll be outside.” 

You fix your hair in the mirror and tuck a few towels under your arm before heading downstairs. Holly’s already outside, criss-crossed in a big lawn chair and watching Steve with incredible boredom. He stands barefoot in the grass, the deflated pool pressed against his chest. He pulls away from the air valve when he notices you, quickly capping it with his thumb. 

“You okay?” you ask, laughing lightly. 

He nods, red-cheeked and breathless. “Think there’s a hole in it. Been blowin’ for like five minutes.” 

“Huh,” you drop the towels and take one end of the limp plastic. “Try again.” 

He funnels more air inside, it dispurses evenly underneath your palm. You don’t hear any air wheezing out so you turn it over for further inspection. 

“Oh, Steve. Here, look.” 

He pops his mouth off and follows your pointer finger. A second valve at the bottom, unhinged and releasing his hard work steadily. 

“Oh, you’re kidding me. Why’d they put one under there?”

You shrug, plugging it back up. “Holly, let’s get some sunscreen on so your mom doesn’t kill us.” 

Holly hops off the chair and skips to your side. You mist her skin in several layers, lathering a generous amount over her ears. When you move onto yourself, she grabs her basket of toys and climbs into the dry inflatable. Steve retrieves the hose and releases a cool stream into the pool, splashing Holly’s feet.

She squeals and scoots back. “Cold!” 

Steve’s thumb eclipses the opening so the water bursts out in wide a fan. He trains it at Holly, spraying her until she’s soaked and screaming. 

He’s giggling in a way you’ve never heard. Genuine, open-mouthed reels of laughter. You hate to admit it, but it’s really cute. So infectious you can’t help but join. 

He glances back for your reaction, pleasantly satisfied. And your smile incites a great idea. He swings the hose around, aiming it straight at you. 

“Steve!” Your arms shoot out to block the attack but it’s no use. 

“What?” he says, the epitome of innocence. 

Your eyes narrow but a smirk prevails. “Oh, you–” 

Holly tackles the back of his thigh with a scream. Steve stumbles forward and the hose slips from his grasp. 

You lunge for it before he even realizes what happened. And by the time he does, he’s already drenched. “Payback!” You laugh maniacally as he combs his hair out of his eyes. 

He’s laughing too, bent at the waist, still shaking his surprise. But only until he catches your gaze– then comes the glint of something playful, almost daring.

Steve barrels straight through the spray like a bull. He chokes your fingers over the nozzle, bending and bending the line until the water pours straight down your head. 

Holly dashes behind you to wrangle the wiggly tail of the hose, squealing at every layer of mist she catches. 

You and Steve wrestle with it, his hand on your hip, yours pushing his shoulder. He’s gentle but still strong. And his touch sears through the cold water, your skin tingling in his wake. 

The second he sticks the end down the back of your shirt you scream. “Okay, okay! I surrender!” 

He crimps the hose with one hand, smirking deviously. 

“I surrender,” you repeat, heaving through your laughter. 

Holly drops her end of the hose, backing up one slow step at a time. 

“Truce?” 

“Truce,” you nod, stepping up cautiously to shake his hand. 

He accepts your hand, using it to yank you closer and blast you again. You chase and dodge and tackle each other under the blazing sun until your legs feel like jelly. But the game eventually slows as exhaustion creeps in. 

You and Steve collapse in the lawn chairs while Holly lays belly-down in the pool. Water sloshes over the rim onto your toes as she kicks, a brief reprieve from the sticky heat. You're relaxed, but your mind wanders. You keep hoping the Wheelers won’t notice the sudden increase in their water bill. 

“Dustin talks about you all the time.”

You tear your eyes away from Holly, blinking back into reality as you face Steve. “What?”

“Dustin, he talks about you all the time. Kid loves you.” 

“Oh. He’s a sweet kid. Talks about you too. Keeps telling me to come see you at Scoops.”

Steve chuckles, more of a half-hearted puff of amusement than a real one. 

“Which, I’m sorry I haven’t, by the way,” you confess. 

His eyebrows jump, lips parting in soft surprise. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. He’s just being Dustin.” 

You press a blade of grass flat under your heel, as if the right words might sprout from the dirt. “I dunno. I mean, don’t you think it’s kinda weird that we don’t like talk? After everything?” 

The words bounce around Steve’s head for a minute. He fixates on your choice of weird. Weird, like bad? Weird like you want to talk? He can’t decide. And he’s afraid if he opens his mouth, the wrong words will tumble out. 

But he tries anyway, “Honestly, I thought you didn’t want to be friends. You were just so… distant after.” 

You rub the length of your arm, lips creasing into a frown. “Sorry, I was just. I don’t even know. Rattled, I guess.” 

“Yeah, rabid dogs with faces that split open and try to eat you tend to have that effect.” 

Your frown melts, little by little. 

“But we should’ve been there for you more. It was a hard time for everybody.” 

His apology echoes in your mind, the ache like a weight on your chest. 

“You could visit if you wanted to. At scoops. I could get you ice cream for free.” 

But the ache doesn’t stand a chance against the way he makes you feel. 

“Okay.” Your cheeks round with a sincere smile. “I’d like that.” 

He turns his head, as if to hide, but you still catch an echo of your own expression. Your eyes flicker across the contours of his profile, following the graceful line from his ear to his collar, before drifting over the sculpted shape of his arms and the long expanse of his thighs. Steve Harrington is objectively attractive. This isn’t the first time you’ve thought so. But it is the first time that fact makes your head spin. 

Maybe it’s the heat. The sun feels like it's roasting you alive, and Steve’s attractiveness certainly isn't helping. You’re feeling strange, thinking crazy things– the kind of thoughts that only come when you’re on the verge of heat stroke certainly. 

You stand abruptly and the grass sways underneath your feet. But you get your bearings before anyone notices. “Holly, can I come sit in the pool?”

Her eyes pop up, grin distorted underneath the water. She props her elbow up and rests her cheek in the palm of her hand. “What’s the password?”

“Umm, can you give me a hint?” 

A high-pitched hum. “Okay. She’s my favorite character.” 

“Uhh, Barbie?” 

“Nooo.” 

“Strawberry Shortcake?”

“Nooo.” 

“Hello Kitty?” 

“You’re really bad at this,” she giggles. It would be really cute if you weren’t possibly dying right now. 

“It’s Care Bears,” Steve interjects, snapping his fingers. “Uhh, the yellow one. Umm, Funshine!” 

“Yes!” Holly glows like the sun on Funshine herself. “Stevie can come in.”

Steve stands but he doesn’t get in. “Come on, Holl. It’s hot.”

“There’s a new password.”

“Okay, okay. Can I have another hint?” you ask. 

Her tongue curls out to lick the sweat off her lip. “My favorite color.” 

“Purple?” 

“Yes,” she nods and sits up. “But I really like yellow and blue and pink too.” 

You sink into the water, unsure if there was ever a wrong answer. It’s shallow and lukewarm, barely grazing the tops of your thighs, but it’s enough to cool the sun off your skin. Steve follows, and the space tightens awkwardly— the inflatable wasn’t built for three. His knee brushes yours while Holly’s toes nudge your foot, but neither of them seems to mind. 

You cup water up to your cheeks and pour it down your arms. 

“Better?” Steve asks, a droll little pinch to his features. 

He’s staring at you which is definitely not helping but you nod anyway. 

“Why don’t we move to the shade?” He stands before you or Holly agrees, offering his hand to pull you up. 

She races Steve to the nearest tree, though he doesn't stand much of a chance dragging the pool behind him. He refills it with fresh water and encourages Holly to splash you gently while he runs inside to make lunch. By the time he returns, you’re feeling much more yourself. 

“Bon Appétit,” Steve announces, lowering himself slowly onto a towel. He carries three animal-shaped plates stocked with fruit and PB&Js, one in each hand, another balanced on his forearm. 

Holly scrambles out of the water, plopping onto the other end of his towel. You get out too, shaking a second one out to lay beside theirs. 

“Lion or hippo?” he asks Holly. 

She hums for a long time, inspecting each plate meticulously before pointing to the lion.

“Good choice.” He sets the plate in front of her crossed legs and passes you the hippo. Steve takes the polar bear for himself, which notably only has half a sandwich. 

“Where’s the other half?” you ask. 

He takes a large bite, pressing his hand to his mouth to reply, “Ran out of bread.” 

“Here.” You rip one of your halves in half. 

“Thanks,” he says, syllables tangling as he chews. 

Holly watches the interaction fondly before pulling apart her own sandwich. It splits in a jagged line, mostly crust on one half. But happily, she thrusts the bigger piece toward Steve, jelly dribbling down her little fist. 

He tilts his head, a growing smile mirroring yours. “You eat it. I have enough now.” 

She crinkles her nose. “You eat it!” 

“No, you!” He squeezes her slim bicep. “You need to get big and strong.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’m already big and strong.” 

She considers this, giving him an obvious once-over that makes you laugh. “Trade?” 

“Okay, trade.” Steve chuckles, exchanging one of his halves for hers. He licks a stripe across his knuckle where her sticky fingers brushed his. It’s as innocent as the gesture can be but something about it has your cheeks burning in a way the sun couldn’t. 

Conversation tapers off, replaced with an easy quiet. Your stomach is satisfied with the food, but it’s your heart that feels the most nourished, steeped in the comfort of good company. You hadn’t expected to enjoy hanging out with Steve or Holly this much. 

Holly slouches into your arm, stretching her legs across the grass like a bridge between the towels. Her heels push into the pudge of Steve’s thigh, the faintest smirk crossing her lips. 

He squeezes her ankle until it darts away. 

Gradually, she presses again and in turn, he squeezes, but this time he doesn’t let go. She squeals as he drags her down your side. But all hell breaks loose when he starts tickling the bottom of her foot. 

She shrieks, thrashing and squirming against his hold, giggling in between gasps. “Ste–vie!” she cries.

Her laugh is too pure of a sound to be real, Steve thinks. His resolve crumbles, grip faltering. And Holly’s heel slams smack into his jaw. Steve winces, bending away to cradle his cheek. 

You straighten up. “You okay? Let me see.” 

Holly’s legs go limp in the grass, her shoulders tense in your lap. 

Steve’s hand slackens unveiling a red splotch not much darker than his sunburnt cheeks. He meets your eyes with a dismissive shake, “It’s okay.” 

You believe him. It doesn’t look nearly awful enough to make your concern stick. And his face has been through worse. Billy Hargrove painting his fists red with Steve’s blood is one of the things you remember most about that night. 

His attention dips down to Holly. She sniffles, eyes glistening in the sunlight with a frown nearly reaching her chin. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Holl.” 

Holly putters, whimpers drowning the edges of her words. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay! I promise! It doesn’t even hurt,” he reassures, cupping her kneecap. 

You tug her off the ground and she sinks into your arms naturally. Hot tears pave a path down your neck only to dissolve in the fabric of your shirt. You coax her sobs out, one back rub at a time. 

Steve waits until she settles with this pitiful look on his face. “I know you didn’t mean to Hollybear. Just an accident. Hmm?” 

She nods against your chin. 

He strokes the back of her arm, fingers grazing yours where they work. “Please don’t cry.” 

Holly sniffles. 

“You know what might help me feel better?” She lifts a sweaty cheek off your chest as Steve opens his arms. “A hug.” 

She pushes out of your hands into his. He holds her tight, providing one loving squeeze after another. 

This is not how you pictured Steve to be under normal babysitting circumstances. A voice like sweet honey, eyes warm like the sun. He’s very soft, and so undeniably kind. And not just to Holly, but also you. 

Steve hooks the spare towel closer, draping it across her back. “Lean back,” he tells her. 

She avoids his gaze as she does, tears melting away under his touch. 

“You know what I think?” He cinches the towel at her collar like a cloak. 

She hums. 

“I think we should have popsicles for dessert.” 

Holly meets his eyes then, excitement glimmering underneath the droop of lingering guilt. 

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” she admits meekly. 

A smirk thins his lips. “I dunno though. What if we get a tummy ache?” He pokes her belly through the towel. “Maybe it’s not–”

“No– I want one!”

“I dunnooo,” he sings.

“Please, Stevie! You already said.”

“How bad do you want it? Like this much?” He pinches his fingers together, leaving the slightest gap between them. 

“No, no!” She shakes her head, casting her arms out as far as they’ll go. “This much!” 

He sighs loudly, shoulders sagging for the dramatic touch. “Okay.” 

Holly’s arms curl around his neck as he stands. He’s more than happy to carry her, but the added weight makes him groan. 

You trail behind automatically, half enjoying the show and just as excited for a treat. Steve pins the back door open with his foot, returning a smile you hadn’t realized you were sharing. Your cheeks are starting to protest, sore with overwhelming happiness. 

“What color do you want?” 

“Pink! Pink!” Holly shouts in his ear, loud enough to make you wince. But Steve doesn’t react in the slightest to her volume. You’d all taken a piece of the Upside Down with you after El sealed it up. And just when you seemed to forget it, you’d be reminded in the form of scars, nightmares, headaches, and in Steve’s case, hearing loss. 

He opens the freezer, Holly propped on his hip. She’s far too big to be carried like that comfortably but he does it anyway. 

“Pink for Holly. Red for Steve.” He leans back to find your face. “For you?” 

You purse your lips, “Surprise me.” 

Steve stows Holly on the countertop so he can snip the plastic tips. She receives her popsicle first, then you, and finally Steve. 

“Matching,” Holly observes as you sit beside them on the couch. 

Steve crosses his popsicle over your identically red one when you raise an eyebrow. “Look at that,” he says. 

She hums, gnawing on the plastic wrapper. Steve pushes the ice up for her and thumbs away the dribble at the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t seem to notice, but it catches you off guard. Steve’s such a natural at this you almost can’t believe he’s an only child. 

You turn the TV on to an episode of Care Bears as Holly slumps into Steve’s chest, slurping the last of her slush loudly. 

“Sleepy?” you ask when she kneads her eyes. 

“No.”

You chuckle, combing her frizz back. “Okay.” 

“You know, it’s okay if you are sleepy,” Steve mentions, equally amused. 

“I know. I’m not.” Her tone is casual, a portrait of nonchalance, despite the yawn that slips out afterward. 

You and Steve exchange a look of mutual fondness. 

“I’m pretty tired,” Steve declares, reclining into the cushions with a fake yawn. “I think I’ll take a nap.” 

Holly twists against him to watch. It doesn’t take long for her little fingers to poke and prod his lashline.

He peels one eye open, playfully cocking an eyebrow. 

She giggles and pinches the skin closed. 

You’re trapped between nervously supervising she doesn’t poke his eye out and leaving to get a baby wipe for her hands which you imagine are very sticky with popsicle juice. Either way, you’ll be surprised if Steve doesn’t have pink eye by morning. 

“I’m sleeping,” he whines and headbutts her palm gently. 

“Nooo,” she whines back, wedging her hand across his mouth. Delirium is setting in, a nap is imminent. 

Steve opens his eyes, giddy just the same. “Okay. You got me.” 

Holly frees his mouth to swipe a streak of red from his chin. Her tongue pokes out in prime concentration. 

A staggered laugh of disbelief is shaken from Steve’s chest. He hadn’t expected Holly to be difficult, but she’s been nothing short of delightful. She’s sweeter than Mike and Nancy combined and smarter than he thought kids her age could be. For a self-indulgent second, he hopes that his kids will turn out something like her. 

Holly reels back around to lay on her side, eyelids sagging with an inevitable heaviness. Steve draws the towel up to her chin, fixing his palm to her back. You watch her drift off, eyes slipping up every so often. 

When you’re positive she’s out, you cautiously dislodge the popsicle wrapper from her fingers. Steve passes his as you stand. 

One of the many hard things about kids is all the cleaning. Holly’s as neat as a five-year-old gets, and still, every moment of peace is an opportunity spent putting things back where they belong. You head outside to tip the pool over and collect stray towels and toys that didn’t make it back in. 

By the time you return, Steve’s passed out, mouth ajar, head craned back against the couch. It’s not a particularly attractive expression– he’d probably be embarrassed to wake to your staring– but you can’t find anything other than endearment in yourself.  

You shower and change into fresh clothes and end up on the opposite couch to watch TV. But Care Bears isn’t all that entertaining anymore so you rest your eyes for just a second. 

A second turns to several and when you reopen your eyes you discover the clock is two hours ahead of where it was before. 

The silence is only comforting for a fleeting moment before anxiety creeps in. Your eyes flick from the TV, now powered off, to the other couch where Steve and Holly are not where you left them. Nor are they in the dining room, kitchen, basement, or backyard. You take the stairs two steps at a time and nearly trip over a blanket strewn across the banister when Holly screams. 

You’d have kicked her door off the hinges if it came to it but are thankful it’s already open. Holly is perfectly safe, bent over the remnants of what you assume was a pillow fort. 

You release a breath caught in your throat and sag against the doorframe. Steve offers an apologetic smile when he notices. 

Holly glances over but quickly returns to their game. “You’ve destroyed my kingdom!” she shouts, drilling a finger into Steve’s chest. “Off with your head!” 

You’re too stunned to laugh, but a noise of confusion skips out. Steve gawks at Holly in pretend despair, scrubbing any seeping amusement off his lips with the back of his hand. He’s dressed in sweats, Holly in a princess dress. But more importantly, his face has been caked in makeup and his hair twisted into two fluffy knots. 

“You!” Holly yells with a scowl aimed at you. “Hold him down!” 

Steve pleads at your ankles, pressing his forehead to the carpet in prayer. It takes every ounce of you not to break character and laugh. There’s something so surreal about Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in sparkly eyeshadow, kneeling before a little girl to beg for his life. It’s hilarious as it is heartwarming. 

“If I may propose a suggestion!” You counter, equally dramatic. “A trade! For this silly man’s life, we will help rebuild your kingdom twice as big! Princess I–” 

“Queen!”

Steve snorts but she must miss it. 

“My apologies. Queen Holly, I can assure you this new Kingdom will have all of the finest luxuries that royalty like yourself might desire.” 

She takes a second to process the big words. “Fine!” She sneers, diving onto her mattress which is absent of all its sheets and blankets. “Chop! Chop!”

You bite your lip, chasing the fervent smile away. Steve gets right to work, sorting pillows from most to least sturdy. You steal another chair from Nancy’s desk and help Steve double-knot the roof to it. It’s no mansion, but it is long enough for Steve to lie down in, which is a job well done in your book. Especially when you’re under strict supervision and listening to a thread of loud critiques. 

You lift the door flap for Holly to crawl through. “Your quarters, Your Grace.” 

She glances over her shoulder with a wicked, but mostly adorable, expression. “My name is not Grace! It’s Holly! Queen Holly to you!” 

The explanation dies on your tongue because how can you possibly argue with that? You’re just grateful to still have your head. 

After the grand tour, Queen Holly disappears into one of the tent’s offshoots with a handful of stuffed animals she's referring to as her royal guards. 

Steve scoots closer, whispering behind his hand, “I think we need to stage a coup.” 

You lean into his good ear, affection spilling off your tone, “I didn’t know she could be so mean.” 

“Me neither! She must be hanging out with Mike.” 

“Must be.” You grin for what feels like the millionth time today. 

You’re sitting knee to knee, close enough to catch the heat of Steve’s breath on your cheek. You drag the pad of your finger across his cheekbone where teal eyeshadow has been caked on in several layers. “I like this,” you compliment. 

I kinda forgot she put that on.” He ducks his head bashfully, peeking up through his eyelashes. “Do I look pretty?” 

“The prettiest.” 

He receives it as teasing, but it’s true, you do think Steve is pretty. A strong nose, kind eyes, and sure, maybe the hair. But now that you’re inches apart, you notice twin smile lines, a series of freckles down his cheek, and a faded scar across his forehead. You linger there more than anywhere else, under the guise of judging Holly’s makeup job, of course. 

But the silence twists into something less comfortable with each passing second. A brief twitch of emotion flickers across Steve’s face, gone before you can name it. “So… pizza for dinner?” he blurts out. 

Before you’ve processed what happened, Holly shouts, “Cheese please!” 

Steve splinters from your gaze, calling back, “Yes, My Queen.” 

Dinner is pleasantly easy. The pizza’s delivered and paper plates save you from the hassle of dishes after. You eat at the kitchen table, sharing stories and smiles, strangely like a family. 

And after dinner, Holly has a bath; and after bath, Steve whisks her off to bed. You’re left to your own devices for once, a benevolent bout of peace, but still, you can’t seem to relax. 

The spray of the bathroom light paves the hall leading to Holly’s room. You tiptoe up to the door and peek inside. 

Steve’s on the floor, slouched against the side of the bed cradling Holly to his chest. He flinches as your shadow veers across the moonlit wall.  

“Sorry,” you whisper, dropping onto your knees beside them. 

Holly picks her head up, tear tracks shimmering as she turns. Her lip wobbles through a whimper. 

You soften like wax near a flame, eyes flitting to Steve who looks equally at a loss. 

She curls her knees into his tummy in a way that probably hurts. The poor thing dissolves into fresh tears, spilling out faster than Steve can chase away. 

“Holls, it’s okay, honey. Me and Stevie are here, okay?” 

She strains to speak through a chain of gasps, “I want my Mommy!” 

“I know, I know. She’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” you steer sweat-slick hair behind her ear. 

“I want her now.” 

“We’ve got ya, Holl,” Steve chimes in. 

“We’re right here.” 

“No– Mommy!” 

It goes like this for a while, soothing reassurances met with unyielding resolve. Holly’s not one to be stubborn for no reason. She’s so exhausted and upset it breaks your heart. You try reading and music and back rubs but there seems to be no end to her sobbing. 

Steve strokes her ankle where it’s now tucked underneath her in your lap. He looks exhausted– hair draped over his forehead like a claw, extra weight embedded in each of his eyelids. You’re both at your breaking point. “You wanna sleep with me tonight Hollybear?” he says in a tone gentler than you’ve ever heard. 

“No. Mommy,” she persists. 

“You can sleep with her when she gets back. But tonight you get to have a sleepover with Steve. Or you can even sleep with me in Nancy’s bed, okay?” 

Red-rimmed eyes flick between you and Steve. Neither option is as good as Mom. 

“Both,” Holly whines. 

“Wanna lay with both of us?” 

She nods. “In the middle.” 

“Okay,” you turn to Steve. “We can do that.” Your words are colored like a question but he’s already nodding his answer. 

He shovels Holly from your lap, cheek pressing into hers in an unspoken exchange of relief. “Alright, munchkin. Let’s go steal Nancy’s big bed. Sound good?” 

She hums her approval into his ear. 

Steve pokes Nancy’s door open with his foot, swinging around to the tucked side of the bed. You crawl across your end as Holly slides off his chest. She molds herself against your shoulder, tugging Steve closer when he settles. 

“Goodnight, Hollybear,” he says. 

She steals your hand from underneath the comforter, then his where it lies on the sheet. Your knuckles brush Steve’s where they are stapled to her chest. “Goodnight,” she sighs. 

Steve strokes up and down the back of her hand, his touch a quiet catalyst. She’s asleep in mere minutes, snoring softly, fingers limp against yours. 

Steve nudges your hand where it’s already pressed to his, whispering when you turn, “Am I crazy that I find all of this kinda fun?” 

You shake your head, a smile working its way across your lips. “Guess that would make me crazy too.” 

“I know I always complain about driving those little shits around but Holly’s actually really fun to babysit.” 

“Yeah, she is. At least it’s not the end of the world this time, right?”

“Yeah, that probably helps, huh?” Amusement ebbs into a sigh. “I’m kinda dreading going home, to be honest.”

“Why don’t we put Mike in a wig? Kidnap Holly for ourselves.” 

He snorts into his pillow. “Oh, yeah. That’ll work. ‘Yeah, I dunno Mrs. Wheeler, she had a crazy growth spurt while you were gone.’”

“We’d take good care of her.”

“We would,” he nods. “You’re really good with her.” 

“So are you. Kinda surprised me actually.”

“Really? Cause Dustin tells me weekly I’d make a good mother.” 

“Yeah, but they’re different. Older. And don’t get me wrong, you’re great with them and they love hanging out with you. Holly’s just little. You’re so much gentler with her, and like, you always seem to know what to do.” 

“For the record, I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Me neither. I don't know what Mrs. Wheeler was thinking asking us to do this.”

Intertwined laughter fades, but something else— something similar— lingers. An almost tangible buzz of energy, as if the silence itself is alive with unspoken words. You entertain the idea that the feeling’s not exclusive to just you. That Steve hears the same jitter in his pulse and feels the same flutter against his ribs. That you aren’t alone to be feeling such a way.    

“Is it–” 

“Are we–”

“Sorry, you go,” he jabbers out. 

The words trickle back down your throat, too thick to cross your tongue again. “You can probably go now,” you decide. 

His gaze jumps to Holly’s chest where his hand is still coupled with one of hers. 

“If you want,” you amend. “You don’t have to.” 

“You don't mind? If I stayed?”

You shake your head.

“Just worried she’ll wake up if I move.” 

You try to flatten your excitement as you reply, “You can stay.” 

His gaze swims with yours across Nancy's room, skimming over the cluttered dresser, the desk strewn with books and pens, to the shuttered closet doors.

“Sorry about– you know– I heard Nancy… dumped you,” you say, immediately regretting the awkward phrasing.

“Harsh,” he squints and casts you a bittersweet grin. “But true.”

“Is it… weird? To be in here?” 

“A little. But not as much as I thought it would be. Hell of a lot better than Mike’s room.” 

You hum, watching the gentle shift in his brows. 

“Is it weird for you?” 

“Me?” you ask. “In what way?” 

“You and Nance. You don’t always see eye to eye.” 

“I mean, yeah. When our decisions involve risking our lives– or the kids– she’s pretty damn impulsive. And she can be real stubborn and selfish sometimes too. But I dunno, I still love her. She’s been sort of like a sister since everything started. I think that’s why we argue.” 

“What does that make me? Your brother?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, you’re the stray dog we adopted.” 

“Okay. That’s just mean.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Your laugh laps out louder than you intend, but Holly remains still. “I dunno who you’d be. The love interest?”

“I can work with that, sexy love interest–”

You scoff. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Harrington.” 

“Okay, okay. But love interest because…”

“Cause you dated Nance.”

“Oh,” he exhales. 

“You don’t agree? Should we go back to stray dog?” 

“Oh, shut up. I’m going to bed.” Steve rolls onto his side with a sigh. 

“Keep your snoring to a minimum, please.” 

He grumbles, narrowing his eyes at your smirk. “I don’t snore.”

“You do. I could hear it from here last night.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you argue. “It definitely wasn’t Holly.” 

“Whatever. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

Only when your eyes are closed does his smile finally emerge. It’s silly how quickly you can pull it out of him. It throws him for a loop every time. But with you at his side, maybe he’ll dream of happier things for once. Either way, it’s easier to fall asleep, just knowing you’re there falling asleep too. 

ᯓ★

“Shhhh!” 

“No, you shhhh,” a lighter voice giggles. 

“Holly,” Steve scolds, mirth buttering his tone. You know he’s smiling by the sound alone. 

Holly’s laughter triples in volume but then is abruptly muffled. 

“Ew– did you just lick me?” 

And this all just sounds way too cute to miss out on. You pry your lashes apart, still sticky with sleep, and flip on your side to face them. 

They freeze, eyes widening adorably in sync. Steve is reclined against the headboard, an arm bent behind his neck. Holly is sprawled halfway across his tummy, toes tickling your side. 

“Sorry,” he offers like you’d be mad. But how could you possibly be anything but enamored waking up to their giggly little voices? If you could be woken up like this every day, you would. 

You shake your head, scratching underneath your eyes. The walls are bathed in muted colors, waiting to be warmed by the sunrise. It’s still early. 

Holly rolls off of Steve onto the floor and barrels out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” he shouts. 

“Potty!” 

Steve turns to you, eyes roving across your bedhead for an embarrassingly long amount of time. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Did she kick you last night?” 

You rake your fingers through your hair, quickly moving them to your lips to stifle a yawn. “Not that I remember.” 

“Oh, you’d remember. Trust me. She was on top of me the whole night.” He’s smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t sound annoyed about it if he tried. 

“Aww, she loves you,” you coo. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, pink dusting his cheeks, “I can’t wait to do this.”

“Hmm?”

“Settle down. Have a family. I wasn’t, like, a hundred percent sure before, but I am now.” 

“You’ll be a good dad.”

He beams at you like he’s just won the lottery. “You think?” 

“For sure.” And he really would. You’re sure of it after last night. 

He opens his mouth to speak but your stomach cuts him off with an obnoxious growl. “Hungry?” Steve chuckles. 

“Shut up.” You swipe your pillow and smack him. 

He smacks you back, pulling it to his chest before you can steal it. “Wanna go out for breakfast?” 

Your brain short circuits. You forget you’re babysitting and not just laying in bed with Steve Harrington for fun. He is not asking you on a date like your heart assumes. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure. For sure,” you sputter out, heat licking up the back of your neck. 

“I’ll go see what she wants,” he slides onto the floor and shakes his legs awake. 

Steve’s tall, even sluggishly slumped over. But even more so as he stretches– arms rising with his shirt, revealing a fraction of golden skin above his waistband. A long, lazy moan climbs out of his chest. 

You push the comforter off before you burst into flames. 

Holly determines she wants IHOP because they put chocolate chips and sprinkles on the pancakes. Steve supplies her with an outfit and wrestles her hair into pigtails with bows to match her skirt. It’s surprisingly coordinated and admittedly cute, but maybe you’re wrong to be so surprised– he knows his way around a comb and a closet. 

“Can I get pancakes?” she asks Steve, perched on the bottom step of the stairs. 

He’s cross-legged on the floor, hunched over to lace her sneakers. “I already told you yes, silly goose.”

“Can I get extra sprinkles?”

“Uhh, does your mom let you?”

She thinks about it before answering. “Yes, I think so.” 

“Sure, then.” He grins, clapping her tied shoes together before standing. 

You shoulder Holly’s bag, stuffed with books and toys and a jacket in case it rains, courtesy of Steve who insisted she might need it. “Ready?” you ask him.

Steve races Holly to the car while you lock up. Mrs. Wheeler installed Holly’s car seat in Steve’s beamer before she left but you’ve yet to use it. 

“It’s too tight,” Holly whines from the car, loud enough to hear from the top of the driveway. 

“I know, ‘m working on it,” Steve assures, working his fingers under the straps. “Just gotta figure it out.”

“Hurry!” 

“I’m hurrying, Holl. Give me a sec’.” 

You open the passenger door and peek around the headrest to view her. The belts are buckled but not tight enough to spark concern. “He’s going as fast as he can, Holly. Be patient.” 

She squirms under his hands, exhaling sharply. And like her, Steve’s frustration mounts, jaw tightening, brow furrowing. His fingers keep slipping and he’s not totally sure which button or strap is for loosening. 

You swing around to Holly’s door and cup Steve’s shoulder. “Let me try.”

He knocks his head on the roof as he pulls out. 

You wince, “Okay?” 

He softens as you reach for his neck, though your fingers never land. Still, the tender look you offer is enough to cure any bumps or bruises he might’ve gotten. 

It’s an unfortunate amount of trial and error before Holly is fastened in properly. Steve cranks the AC on full blast when you finally settle into your seats and circles through radio stations after he backs out. He finds the kid’s station, playing a Muppet’s song that Steve apparently knows every word to. He sings unapologetically loud, a stupid grin sewn to his face. 

When you arrive, Holly happily holds your hand through the parking lot, still clutching tightly as you wait to be seated. She climbs onto your lap to make room on the waiting bench for a woman looking ready to pop out a baby any minute. Steve stands at your other side, arm braced behind your neck. 

“How old is she?” the woman asks you fondly. 

“She’s five,” you return her smile, bouncing your knee. “Right, Holly?”

Holly twists to hide in your neck, nodding. 

“She’s very cute,” she says with such love you already believe her baby is in good hands. “Your sister?” Her eyes flick from yours to Steve who is mostly oblivious to the conversation. 

“No, just babysitting.” 

“Oh, well, you’ll make good parents one day.” 

The comment renders you speechless. It’s not that you hadn’t considered children before, but you hadn’t pictured them with Steve. With his smile, his eyes, his nose. It’s that this woman who doesn’t even know you imagined it before you had. You blink at her stupidly through a forced smile.

Steve squeezes your shoulder, ripping you from your thoughts. “You okay? Table’s ready.” 

You get seated in a booth overlooking the parking lot. 

Holly bends across Steve’s lap to point through the window. “I see our car!” 

“Yeah, that’s her.” 

Holly’s face contorts with confusion. “Her? Your car’s a girl?” 

“Yep–”

The waitress swings over with a handful of menus and a hasty introduction. Steve already knows what he wants and he places Holly’s order after his, making sure to clarify the extra sprinkles when she calls his name repeatedly to remind him. As soon as you decide, the waitress bustles off with the pair of menus to another table. 

Holly slides her paper menu closer, examining each activity. 

Steve picks open the box of crayons, revealing a stingy three– red, green, and blue. “You know, for a multi-million dollar company, you’d think they could afford more than three crayons.”

“And more staff,” you add, eyes tailing another waitress zipping from one table to another. 

Holly points at herself, Steve, and then you, counting, “One, two three. Three crayons for three people.” 

“Yeah, good point,” Steve pats her thigh. “Always the optimist.” 

“Op-ta-nist?”

“Op-ta-mist,” he clarifies. 

She snags the green crayon and presses it to the paper. “What’s that?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth. “Well, it’s like– it’s when you– you’re happy a lot. Grass is always greener on the other side, you know?” 

Steve lost her at the metaphor but she’s too focused on staying inside the lines to care about the definition of optimist anymore. 

“You got there eventually. Sort of,” you tease. 

His foot stabs your ankle under the table. “Shut up.” 

Steve lets Holly win every single round of tic-tac-toe while showering her with praise, convincing her she's a tactical mastermind. You can’t quite tell if she’s onto him, but she’s too busy grinning to say otherwise.

The waitress plants your and Steve’s plates on the table first, reaching behind to scoop Holly’s off her tray next. “And, chocolate chip pancakes with extra sprinkles for the little one.” 

“Thank you,” you manage to say before she leaves to tend to another table flagging her down. “Holly, want syrup?”

“Yes, please.” 

You pour a spiral of maple syrup over Holly’s pancakes. The amount of sugar on her plate might qualify it more as candy than breakfast. And she’s ogling the food like it’ll grow legs and run away. 

“Steve, will you cut them up for her?”

He nods, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs and trading his fork for a knife. As soon as he slides her meal back over, Holly ravages the pancakes, spooning another bite in her mouth before she’s swallowed the last.

The waitress whisks by with drink refills, joy driving her to a smile at the sight of Holly and her half-empty plate. 

“I swear we feed her at home,” Steve chuckles through his own joke. What a dad thing to say. “Can we get some more napkins?” 

And it’s like he knows what’s going to happen. Holly stretches across the table for the syrup bottle, drawing back with an open-mouthed grimace. 

“Uh-oh.” She presses her chin to her chest. There’s a patch of syrup turning the hem of her pink shirt brown. 

“What?” Steve throws a pigtail behind her shoulder so he can see. “Oh. It’s okay.” 

“It was an accident,” Holly explains. 

“I know. It’s okay.” 

“It’s sticky.”

“It’ll wash off.” Steve dunks a clean napkin in his cup of water and dabs it across the stain. 

“It’s too cold,” she complains, pinching the fabric away from her skin. 

“Sorry. It’ll dry. Have to get the syrup out, though.” 

You deliver another wad of napkins to Steve’s hand. He pushes them against her belly, soaking up any excess water. His patience never frays.

Holly looks up, worry etched into her voice, “Will it stain?” 

“I dunno,” you supply truthfully. “We’ll throw it in the wash when we get home.” 

Steve pays the bill with the cash the Wheelers left and scrapes his wallet for change, stacking two quarters on the table when he finds them. “Since you’ve been such a good listener. There’s a sticker machine up front,” he tells Holly. 

Steve might as well have slapped a ticket to Disney World on the table. Holly literally jumps for joy, right out of her seat. She buys a random Lisa Frank sticker and pockets the second coin for her piggy bank. 

It’s Steve’s idea to go to the playground afterward. The park is teeming with life, the kind of chaos that only a weekend morning can bring. Swings creak under the weight of eager kids, and the monkey bars have their own traffic jam. Parents wrap the playground like a barricade, their chatter drowned out by laughter and shouts. But the heat presses down ruthlessly, making every step feel like you’re wading through a sauna.

Holly tears away from Steve’s hand as soon as her shoes hit the mulch, rejoicing in her newfound freedom with a little skip. She races up a set of stairs to wait for a turn on the tallest slide. 

“Should’ve brought sunscreen,” Steve says, eyes following Holly down the slide. She flashes you both a prideful smile from the bottom. 

“She’ll survive. We won’t stay long. It’s too hot.” You pull your shirt out to fan your chest, dabbing the sweat beading at your sternum. 

“Careful!” he shouts as she hops from one platform to the next. She continues to bounce along the path, one wobbly leap at a time. A particularly long jump has Steve cringing. He’s trying really hard not to be overanxious and it’s as sweet as it is amusing. 

He side-eyes your grin with an opposing frown. You don’t even have to say anything for him to know you’re teasing him. “What?” 

You shrug, smile doubling. “You.”

“What about me?” 

“You’re just funny.” 

“My concern is funny to you?” he accuses. 

“She’s fine, Steve.” 

He makes a noise of disagreement, arms crossed and a hip popped out dramatically far. You see why Dustin teases him for being motherly. 

Holly struggles with the monkey bars. She makes it halfway across before her arms start to shake and her hands slip. Steve lunges forward as he watches her plummet to the ground. But before he can swoop in, Holly pops up, dusts the dirt from her skirt with a nonchalant shrug, and marches on, completely unfazed. 

“See. She’s fine,” you reassure.

“Whatever,” Steve grumbles, strolling away to sulk in private. 

He makes a slow lap around the playground, hands planted firmly on his hips, casting a critical eye over the chaos. Meanwhile, you snag a spot on a bench, where most parents are engrossed in magazines or gossip, blissfully detached. You watch Steve get roped into playing a monster, though you can tell he secretly loves it. 

It doesn’t take long for him to start stomping around, roaring and growling, chasing the kids as they shriek and scatter. And when they finally tire him out, he collapses beside you, his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and his breath coming in ragged bursts. 

“I told her five more minutes,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the bench behind you. His curls shine honeycomb gold in the spray of sunlight and his skin echoes the warmth of desert sand, softened pink like the blush of sunset. He looks strikingly gorgeous sprawled out beside you. 

Holly trots over not much later, alarmingly upset. 

You sit up, urgently shaking Steve’s thigh to grab his attention. “What happened, honey?” 

“I– I was,” she sucks in a staggered breath, “I was climbing the stairs and– and a boy, he pushed me.” Twin rivulets of tears are unleashed with a blink, converging at the curve of her chin. 

You scan her from head to toe. Nothing looks broken or bloody. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” she strains. 

You drag her into your chest, pressing a loving cheek to her ear. “Did it scare you?” 

She nods, hiccuping into your neck. 

“I’m sorry, Holly. That wasn’t nice at all.” 

Steve’s gaze shifts between Holly and the playground to search for guilty suspects. He finds none, thankfully, though he’s still itching to wring out whatever parent it is not watching their kid– which is unfortunately most of them.

“Let me see,” he coaxes Holly over for his own checkup. He picks a piece of mulch from her hair and flicks off another stamped into her calf. “Think you’ll make it? Should we call an ambulance?” 

She doesn’t smile at his joke like you hope. 

“Ready to go home?” you ask.

She sniffs into her sleeve. “Yeah.” 

“Alright.” Steve hoists her up as he stands. Holly's long legs wrap around his waist, feet swaying against his thighs as he walks. 

Holly naps on the way home, not by choice but by sheer exhaustion. She convinces herself she didn’t actually fall asleep when she wakes up in the driveway, swearing, “I just closed my eyes.” 

But it’s quickly apparent that twenty minutes was not enough. She cries because her leftover pizza for lunch is cold in the middle and again when she rubs the sauce in her eye. You turn on a movie, hoping to induce another nap, but The Aristocats is just too good to sleep through. Thankfully, her grumpiness wanes into a more manageable pout, her arms uncrossing to snuggle closer to you on the couch.

When the movie ends, she slinks up, her departure leaving your lap cold. After a long-winded debate about what to do, you all finally agree on playing a board game. Steve steers Holly downstairs to pick one out and she returns with a rekindled excitement, dropping the game Twister at your feet. 

There’s nothing inherently wrong with Twister, but you were expecting something easier. Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. So you let Steve and Holly go first. The round ends in a heap of tangled limbs and giggles, a winner unclear. But Holly wins the match against you, admittedly fair and square. And it’s all fun and games until she insists you and Steve must compete. 

“Ehh, Holly. My arms are tired,” you reason. 

“But I wanna be the referee too,” she whines. “Pleaseee!” 

Steve shrugs at you, a playful little curve to his lips. If you say no, that makes only you the bad guy. And you just can’t bring yourself to break Holly’s heart over something so simple. 

“Okay,” you sigh, ignoring the nervous tick in your chest. 

Holly pushes you by the hips onto the mat to stand opposite Steve. She gets situated on the floor and excitedly flicks the spinner, calling, “Left foot. Blue!” 

You each step toward a blue dot. Easy. 

“Right foot on green.” 

Right foot, green. You’re shoulder to shoulder now, hips angled toward his. 

“Right hand… yellow!” 

“Here we go,” you mumble, bending down to reach yellow. “Okay.” 

Steve chuckles and follows suit, free hand hovering awkwardly behind your shoulder. 

You twist your head until you can’t, just to see the stupid look on his face. “You know, your long legs really give you an unfair advantage here.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he chides, hot breath fanning the back of your already hot neck. 

“Don’t speak so soon, Harrington. You’re the one who’s gonna lose.” 

“Right hand, red,” Holly announces. 

You lean back toward red, headbutting Steve’s side so you don’t fall. He curls into position next, swaying until his back pocket is inches from your nose. 

“Oh my God, Steve. Get your butt out of my face!” You’d shove him if you had an extra hand. 

Holly giggles in that contagious way kids laugh, automatically pulling one from Steve. 

“Don’t make me laugh. If I go down, so are you,” he reminds you. 

“Umm, left foot green,” Holly says. 

Steve groans dramatically, whining. “What! Holly, that’s impossible. Spin again.” 

She cackles, reminiscent of Queen Holly. “Nope, you have to! That’s the rules!”

And somehow, you both make it to green without knocking each other over. But you’re getting distracted– Steve’s hand has brushed your calf three times now and his shirt is loose, hanging off his chest in a way that gives you a clear view of his tummy. This might as well be sabotage. You tear your eyes away. You must focus. You didn’t care much for winning before, but something about Steve brings out your competitive side. 

“Right hand, green.” 

You bow your knee until it’s wedged uncomfortably into your ribcage so you can reach the green. Your thighs quickly begin to ache. You won’t last much longer in this position. Especially not when Steve arches over you like a human bridge, the zipper of his jeans tickling your back where your shirt has scrunched up. 

He shakes his hair out of the way so he can see you, albeit upside down. His smile stretches wide, radiating pure, unfiltered joy. He’s having the time of his life, and admittedly, so are you. 

Your elbow juts out, nearly giving under the weight of his gaze alone. But you snap it back in place and practically beg Holly, “Spin.” 

“Left foot blue!”

You and Steve lunge for the same blue circle. His sock slides against the tarp, leg extending much farther than he’s prepared for. His arm buckles, chest slamming down against your back. Your elbows give out immediately under the force of his weight, jaw slamming into the floor. 

“Shit, sorry! You okay?” 

A burst of laughter tumbles out of your mouth before you can answer. But maybe it’s an answer in itself. Your chin stings but you're fine. Better than fine, even. 

As soon as Steve scrambles off of you, you flip onto your back. His eyes trickle down you in assessment, eyebrows knitting together, mouth twitching like it can’t decide whether to frown or smile. 

“I’m okay,” you manage, smiley and breathless. 

“Did you hit your face?”

“Just my chin.” 

He reaches for your face with hesitant fingers. “Sorry.”

You shake your head, bolstering his wrist as he cups your chin. “I definitely won.” 

And just like that, all his worry washes away. He pries your hand from his wrist, wrenching you up to sit. “Technically, you hit the floor first.” 

You glance over to Holly for her professional referee’s opinion but find she’s no longer there. “Where’s–”

“I found it!” she yells from the upstairs. What exactly she found, you’ve no idea. But she comes stomping down the stairs not a minute later with a little box in her hands. Bandaids, you realize, as she dumps the contents on the twister mat beside you. “They’re Hello Kitty,” she says, stripping the paper backing off of one. 

You let her little fingers stamp it to the curve of your chin. It’s not bleeding, nor does it really hurt that bad, but the gesture is sweet enough to melt your heart. “Thank you, Holly. You’re so gentle. You should be a candy striper.” 

“I don’t think I’m old enough.”

“When you’re older then.”

Steve decides Twister is far too dangerous to keep playing, but Holly demands a game of Mouse Trap so it works out. Steve wins, despite you and Holly’s strategic alliance halfway through. And by then, she’s asked about dinner twice so you shelve the rest of the games and head up to the kitchen to decide together. 

Holly hums into the freezer, “Chicken nuggets… pizza rolls– oh! Eggos, can we have Eggos?” 

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, peering over her, “Why don’t we cook something? We could have a fancy dinner. Like a dinner party.”

“Can we dress up?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, flipping a pack of ground beef over. 

“Pasta?” you call from the pantry.

“Ooh, yeah. Let’s do that.”

Holly sprints upstairs for a costume, much more interested in the party than the dinner. You pull a box of noodles and an unopened jar of sauce from the shelf while Steve grabs a pot from the cabinet and sticks it under the faucet. 

“Careful. Stove’s on,” you announce, flicking the dial on high. 

Steve backs up from the sink slowly, water sloshing over the side of the pot when he bumps the table. 

“Steve,” you chuckle, pulling a dish towel from the oven handle, “It doesn’t need to be that full.” 

“No?” 

“No, dump like, half of that out.” 

He nods, pouring some out and depositing the rest over the stove. “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never made pasta before.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed,” you quip, elbowing his side with the box of noodles in hand. “Pour these in?”

He takes the box and gives it a good shake. “How much?” 

“Maybe half? Little more?” 

He tips it over the water, snapping it back up when much more than half slides out. “Oops.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuck a few stray pieces from the counter into the pot. “Everyone’s getting seconds tonight. What do you like in your pasta?” 

“Sauce?” 

The laugh fizzles out in your throat as you realize he’s not making a joke. “Besides sauce. Cheese? Meat? Spices?” 

“Oh, uhh, I’m not sure.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, hand retracting to fidget with the hem of his shirt. He’s antsy, clearly nervous. Maybe embarrassed of his cooking knowledge, or rather, lack of it. Or perhaps afraid the pasta will end up something like the first set of grilled cheeses. 

“We’ll keep it simple then. Holly probably won’t like it too fancy anyway.” 

Steve nervously watches the water bubble, foam climbing up the sides. “Do you like garlic bread? Saw some in the freezer.” 

You fish the box out and line a pan with three pieces. And with bread in the oven and the pasta starting to boil, you hop on the counter to wait.  

“How long does it take?” Steve asks.

“Not long.” 

You open the drawer beside your legs and find a big wooden spoon. Lucky guess. “Here. Stir.” 

His eyes follow the ladle, stirring with steady hands. It’s a peaceful quiet, his focus unusually soft. Not the urgent, fate of his life kind of determination you’re used to seeing. 

When it’s ready, you pinch the spoon’s neck, fingertips sweeping his for the half a second before he lets go. “Now we strain the water. Then we can add the sauce.” 

You find a strainer and plant it in the sink while Steve carries the pot over and pours. He sets it back on the stove, per your orders, and offers a hand when you struggle with the sauce lid. 

He pins the jar against his chest, knuckles straining white in several attempts to twist the cap. But it pops off after a good shake, spraying sauce across your cheek, and spinning to the floor like a frisbee. 

Steve freezes, gawking at your face with a stupid smile. 

“Steve!” You scoop up a dish towel and smack his arm. 

He throws his hands up and turns a shoulder to you. “I didn’t mean to,” he snickers. 

“Don’t laugh! I’ll pour that whole jar over your head.” 

He doesn’t buy your threat one bit, still laughing as he sets the jar down and steals the towel from your hands. “I’ll get it. Sit still.” 

You summon the most menacing glare you can manage while suppressing a smile. He presses the towel to your cheek, thumb gliding across your skin as he wipes the sauce in one languid motion. His eyes flick down to your lips and you’re positive you aren’t imagining it. 

But you’re sweating and your stomach is churning and– “The pasta!” You ram into Steve’s shoulder trying to get by, rushing to turn the stove temperature down. 

Steve whisks up behind you to see the food. “Is it burnt?” 

“No, no. It should be fine.” You scrape the ladle under the bottom layer of noodles. “Pass me the sauce?”

You avoid his eyes as you take it. Was he going to kiss you? Maybe just thinking about it? Or perhaps there was just sauce near your mouth and you’re spiraling over absolutely nothing. 

You toss the food in sauce and divide it into three plates silently. 

“Holly! Food’s ready,” Steve shouts as he fixes the table with napkins and silverware. 

She clambers down the steps in a tutu and a cardigan that you’re pretty sure is Nancy’s. Her smile drops. “Where are your clothes?” 

Steve looks down at his sweats. “Holly, I think we’ll just–”

“Please, Stevie. It’s a dinner party, remember?” 

His eyes dart to you, though you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “One sec.”

He swings back into the kitchen wearing a tweed suit jacket, a silky, black one draped over his arm. His is a few sizes too big, shoulder pads drooping down his biceps, and the sleeves swallowing his hands. He pushes the fabric up his elbows to hand you the other jacket. “For you.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpan. It comes off less sarcastic than you aim for. 

Holly and Steve adopt similar grins as you slip the jacket on. “You look dashing,” she compliments. 

“Very,” Steve agrees, taking a seat beside you. 

You spend the rest of dinner internally debating whether he’s flirting or just indulging in Holly’s playful antics. The uncertainty makes your stomach flip, and suddenly you aren’t so hungry anymore. 

After the dinner party concludes, it’s Holly’s suggestion to go for a walk. She wheels her bike out of the garage, fitted with a set of training wheels and a handlebar bursting with tinsel. A yawn rolls off her tongue as she launches down the driveway. It raises your hopes for a smoother bedtime tonight. 

Even as the horizon melts into the Earth, the summer heat clings like a heavy hand. Trees project long shadows along the road, eating what’s left of the sunlight. Bugs buzz and birds chirp, but a sleepy stillness is ubiquitous. 

“What?” you ask suddenly, whipping your head to face Steve. He’s drenched in gold, pale wisps of hair riding the breeze as he strolls. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re staring at me. I feel it.” 

“I wasn’t,” he assures. 

You blink at him. You can’t decide whether to be annoyed at such an obvious lie or embarrassed by the truth. 

He jogs ahead before you’ve come up with something to say. Halfway to Holly, he shouts, “Come on, slowpoke!” 

It only takes one loop around the block for the heat to catch up. Holly complains incessantly about her helmet strap being too tight even after Steve fixes it and you’re itchy from sweat and mosquito bites. Steve’s, well, he might be the only content one. Happy even, guiding you home with a subtle bend to his lips and a soft glow tinting his cheeks. 

Holly whines about having to take a bath, and while you might negotiate it another night, you can see the damp line down her back. But like you suspect, all grievances are forgotten the second she gets in. She likes playing in the bath, even if she forgets it. It’s where she keeps her mermaid Barbie and her collection of rubber ducks, coincidentally all named Bob. 

And while bath time might tend to feel like more of a chore as a babysitter, tonight is different. It’s your last night at the Wheelers, and while that’s not new information, it is startlingly sad. You aren’t irritated when she splashes water in your eye or when she leaves a trail of it down the hall for you to clean. You can’t be, not when you know you’ll miss it. 

Steve helps you tuck Holly into Nancy’s bed. After pinky swearing that you’ll both return at your own bedtime, she drifts off easily. You’re thankful, of course, but a piece of you secretly hoped to be needed longer.  

“Must’ve been tired,” Steve whispers, pushing slowly off the bed. “You okay?” 

You nod, tearing your eyes from Holly to meet Steve’s. “Kinda sad.” You shrug, murmuring, “Stupid.” 

“It’s not.” He cups your shoulder and runs a warm hand up and down your arm. “Come on.” 

You take his hand and let him lead you across the hall and down the stairs. He pulls you onto the couch so you land pressed into the same cushion he’s on. “Y’know, babysitting Holly’s a breeze compared to the usual shitheads. We don’t have to worry about her taking my car keys or fighting interdimensional monsters or summoning a gate to hell,” he says. 

A soft laugh parts your lips. “Think Holly will put in a good word for us with her parents?” 

“You kidding? She loves us. Especially me,” he jokes. “Hate to break it to you but I’m definitely her favorite.” 

“No, you are not. Shut up.” 

He catches your fist mid-punch, cradling your hand like it’s made of wet sand. His thumb crosses each divot between your fingers, stroking up and down your knuckle slowly. “I’m sure they’ll ask us to babysit her again at some point.”

You hum in agreement. 

“Besides, we could expand our horizons. There’s like a million other children in Hawkins that need babysitting.” 

Your smile spills into your cheeks. “We?” 

“Yeah, I think we make a pretty damn good team. Don’t you?” 

“I do, but… we don’t have to limit our interactions to just babysitting, you know?” 

“What are you thinking? Dinner and a movie? Next weekend?” His eyes flick from your fingers to your face– to each eye, sweeping down the center of your nose, stopping right at your lips. 

You turn away in an attempt to soothe your heart as it pounds up to your ears. “Smooth, Harrington.” 

He reels you back in gently by the arm, confidence shining through his smile.“What? Did I read this wrong?” He knows he didn’t, he’s teasing you. 

“No,” you mumble, “You didn’t.” 

He leans in to whisper, “Can I kiss you then?” 

You nod, pushing into the soft press of his lips with your own. He’s not hesitant, nor is he harsh. Steve knows how to kiss, that much is clear. He trades your hand for your cheek, gently tilting your face to the side as he pulls away. 

Your eyes flutter open to a doting gaze. One that travels down the lines and slopes of your neck like they’re made of candy. Steve plants a second kiss on your lips, though fleeting in comparison to the first. But he plants several more to make up for it, working his way in a Z down your cheek, across your jaw, and back down your neck. They’re quick, ticklish little pecks of affection. A sweetness if you ever knew it. 

“Steve,” you admonish, though giggles betray your tone. The hands that frame his face glide gently down to his throat, your thumbs meeting at his Adam's apple. “We’re babysitting.” 

“I know,” he says, kissing your lips for a third time. “Just had to get a few extra in there. For all the times I thought about kissing you this weekend.” 

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?” He laughs, bubbly like you’ve surprised him. “It’s true. I thought about it all weekend.” 

You don’t know why you ask– why you even thought of it at a time like this– but you question him, “What about Nance?” 

“What about her?” 

“You don’t…” you trail off, afraid to even speak the possibility into existence. 

“We’re done. We have been. For a lot longer than I was willing to admit,” he admits honestly. 

“Yeah, but do you–”

“I don’t. Still have feelings for her. Not like that, anyway.” 

You meet his eyes, feeling a strange blend of emotions you can’t quite name.

“If you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to let me prove it to you,” he holds your gaze, warm with a sincerity that makes it hard to doubt him. 

“I believe you.” 

You let Steve kiss you several more times on that couch. He’s patient, deliberate, and more kind than you ever imagined he’d be. It’s hard to understand why Nancy would ever let someone like that go. 

ᯓ★

On Monday morning, you blink awake first, the comforting weight of a hand that’s not yours across your hip and another, much lighter one, at your belly. You turn over slowly, finding Steve and Holly wrapped around each other like ivy on trellis. You don’t imagine many people look this pretty asleep. The comb of long lashes kissing the soft flush in his cheeks. The golden lather of sunrise in each wild swoop of hair. The way his lips part for a sigh cuter than you knew one could be. 

He mumbles something unintelligible, sleep talk perhaps. 

You whisper back anyway, “What?” 

Steve sighs, smearing his cheek against the pillow. “Being a creeper.” 

“Me?” 

“Mhmm.” One eye slowly unbinds itself from sleep. Steve adores the tight-lipped smile on your face, broad with an infatuation he forgot could be aimed at him. His hand twitches at your side. 

“You just look so pretty when you sleep,” you admit. Is it too soon to say such things? 

His eye closes as he smiles, nosing into Holly’s hair, selfishly keeping it to himself. You reach across her body to find it, swiping a loving finger across his lips when you do. 

You stay in bed for as long as Holly will allow– which is not very long after she wakes up– but you don’t mind. You watch fondly as Steve helps her brush her teeth and as she helps Steve toast and butter the Eggos. Like Steve, Holly’s a good kid. They’re both helpers at heart. 

And you’re sure to remind Mrs. Wheeler of that when she rings the house to let you know they’re almost home. Holly’s excitement quickly dwindles into sadness the moment she realizes you won’t be staying. But she uses it to bargain one final game of hide and seek before you go. 

“Come on.” Steve drags you by the wrist, bustling upstairs to the bathroom. He throws the shower curtain aside and jumps in, offering his hand to help you after. You sit scrunched together, knee to knee on the porcelain floor, giggling like children. 

“Shhh,” you squeeze his kneecap. “You’re gonna get us found.” 

He jostles your shoulder, mouth agape. “You’re the one who’s laughing!” 

“No,” you insist, though the light in your eyes suggests otherwise. Curiosity sparks and the irrepressible urge to act on it wins. You lean in for a kiss, confirming that’s all it takes to shut Steve up. 

He tastes like maple syrup, loving with his lips as much as his hands. He pulls back for breath and returns for another peck, pressing into the corner of your mouth where your smile keeps drawing higher and higher. 

“Hard to kiss you when you're smiling.” 

“Can’t help it,” you defend. “Never been so happy.” 

He softens like warm icing, a sweet and gooey mess in your arms. But the shake of the front door closing stiffens him. 

“Mommy!” you hear quickly after. 

Steve scrambles up and over the lip of the tub, tugging you out with him. You follow him downstairs where Mrs. Wheeler swings Holly in her arms like she’s much smaller than she really is. Mr. Wheeler steers a suitcase silently through the entryway. 

“Did you have so much fun?” she asks Holly, peppering kisses across her temple. “Ohh, I missed you!” 

Holly revels in the affection overload, bending backward to giggle at you and Steve. 

Mrs. Wheeler grins. “How was she?” 

“Great, as always,” Steve assures. His cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed— though you could chalk that up to bedhead, not the aftermath of your short-lived makeout session.

You nod, adding, “We went swimming and to the park and–”

“IHOP!” Holly yells. “I got pancakes with chocolate chips and extra sprinkles!” 

“Did you? Sounds like you had a lot of fun.” Mrs. Wheeler plants Holly on her feet. “Can you give hugs? Say thank you for being such good babysitters?” 

Holly launches herself at Steve. He sends you a smirk over her shoulder, rocking her side to side in his embrace. You can just hear him say, I told you so. 

But she offers the same enthusiasm and more for you, dragging you onto the floor for a proper goodbye hug. “I don’t want you to go,” she pouts in your ear. 

“We’ll come back. We can have playdates?” 

“Can’t you just live in Nancy’s room? She’s never here anyway.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “I wish I could,” you admit honestly. 

She reluctantly loosens her grip on your shirt when you peel away. 

Mrs. Wheeler sees you and Steve off with a warm smile. Holly darts through her mother’s legs for one final hug on the porch. You wave goodbye, the moment slipping into something bittersweet before Steve bumps his shoulder into yours, a playful grin softening the farewell.

You dawdle up to your car, wringing your hands together when you reach the door. “So.”

“So,” he parrots. 

“This weekend, right?” 

His smirk blooms into a full smile. “Friday? Pick you up at seven?” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

“Okay,” he chuckles, clipping a hand around your jaw and leaning in. 

You turn away so the kiss skips across the softest stretch of your cheek. “Steve.” 

His eyes never leave your face as he assures you, “They’re not looking.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

Holly waves at you through the living room window, a smile as wide as her face. Steve’s hand falls down to his side and he takes a platonic step back. You both return her goodbye, but Holly stays, her little hand pressed to the glass. 

“Think she’ll tell?” Steve asks, not an ounce of worry in his tone. 

You shrug, tugging him back in by the waist for a proper kiss. “I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world.” 

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

S5 predictions

-At the final episode, the party goes back to the local village with three waterfalls and mileven marry while Will watches sadly (if he’s even alive, perhaps he died fighting Vecna)

-Max comes back to life, but she comes back wrong. Her limbs have been replaced by robot parts by doctors and she’s now a cyborg

-Lucas jokes about her being C-3PO from Star Wars. Max shoots him with her laser arm and he dies

-Dustin starts wearing lipstick and it’s just never acknowledged. It’s red. Very red. Too red.

-Turns out Henry is possessed with an evil spirit sent by the Christian devil because his parents never loved him, and during the final fight El looks at him in the eye and says “hey🥺 this isn’t you🥺” and they hug and he becomes Henry again and he’s the best man at the mileven wedding

-Steve gets his ass beat, again

-Robin falls head over heels for Jonathan, who cheats on Nancy with her. Nancy is so mad than she grabs one of her guns and shoots them both

-Eddie comes back to life but he only speaks French now

-Will develops a crush on Steve and they are endgame

-Robin begins growing pumpkins

-Also Joyce and Robin kiss

-When hopper finds out he’s so mad he handcuffs Robin and refuses to leave her hands free, so she spends half a season completely free and in liberty but handcuffed

-Lucas’ ghost comes back to haunt the party after max killed him but not in a scary way. Neither a sad way. He’s just an inconvenience. He moves papers and cups to other places, he opens the door while Dustin is showering, he tugs at mike’s hair. He doesn’t do anything to Will tho and this pisses everyone off cause that’s just not fair.

-El is actually Henry’s daughter, el’s mom and him hooked up while he was in the lab.

-El grows her hair out and dyes it pink

-Mike grows a mustache

-Will hits the gym and gets jacked

-Max steals Robin’s pumpkins at night to leave them in mike’s room. Mike is so confused each morning, there’s always a new pumpkin.

-El and Steve share an emotional moment with an almost kiss but they are interrupted by Will

-Suzie is Russian and has been on it all along

-Argyle appears during the first episode and he’s driving the van. He’s supposed to drive Jonathan and will somewhere but before he arrives at their house a truck hits him and he goes flying and dies

-Will, despite being endgame with Steve, objects at the mileven wedding, and Nancy just shots him and they continue the wedding like nothing happened

-Robin and Steve get a new job at the arcade. They are eventually fired because they spend their shifts playing, and they are so bad but they keep playing anyway, and eventually they lose all their money and end up with 20k dollars in debt. A s5 subplot is them trying to break into the arcade at night and steal their money back from inside the machines. They fail

-Mr Clarke appears and has an affair with hopper

-Holly gets taken to the upside down cause she doesn’t know how to ride a bike yet, so she just goes walking through the forest and Vecna sees her and just snatches her.

-Surprise surprise, Karen knows how to use a gun and she’s the one to kill the evil spirit possessing Henry by shooting it

-Billy appears and Steve and him have some very homoerotic wrestling before El kills him just because. He was alive for 15 minutes. Also during all this he was a zombie

-Max’s mom actually works for the lab and was brenner’s ex

-The last scene of the whole show is Ted wheeler waking up on his armchair, having dreamt all the story

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Wheeler

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 3.6k || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

Karen Wheeler stands in the open door of her own house, shock etched into her gaping mouth and wide eyes. She reaches out towards what Steve assumes is the wound across his forehead and into his hairline, an angry red from getting the stitches removed earlier that morning. He sees the moment she decides against it, dropping her hand back to clutch the door handle. "I'm sorry, Steve, but Nancy isn't home right now."

He accepts the change in direction with a sharp pang of disappointment, forgetting amidst all of the bullshit his life has been lately that Karen Wheeler loves her children and the people close to them. And that's not Steve, not anymore.

She’s wearing the red and green sweater she bought on sale last winter. Karen had thrown her handful of oversized shopping bags into the middle of the living room floor while Nancy and Steve were cuddled up watching reruns on the couch. Nancy tried making up an excuse for them to skip the fashion show, but Karen looked so disappointed– plus Steve really does love shopping. So they’d spent the next twenty minutes pouring over each piece she found. The sweater was one of his favorites, and she’s now paired with simple light-wash jeans and a casual pony-tail. 

She looks good, but Karen Wheeler always knows how to put herself together enough to fool anyone, even her own family– like mother, like daughter.

"It's ok," he replies, tone bursting with false cheer. "I was hoping to talk to you, actually. About Mike."

Although Steve practically lived with the Wheeler's for the past year– much to Ted's chagrin– Steve and Mike tended to avoid interactions at all costs. Their arranged seats for dinner were at opposite sides of the table. While Steve and Nancy watched a movie in the living room, Mike would hide upstairs. And whenever Mike beat them to the remote, he would steal Nancy into the basement. Steve was always cordial when he could be, but Mike would only reply with dirty looks or a roll of his eyes.

So when Karen sighs and waves him to follow her into the kitchen, he's surprised that she seems like she’s been expecting him. He takes his normal seat at the table and she hands him a glass of iced tea with lemon on the side. The familiarity clogs his throat, and he thinks the slight twist of her mouth means she's stuck in the same moment, a nostalgia for affection neither of them had a choice in ending, but with an ending all the same.

"Mike told me you got into a fight with a boy from school, but I never imagined–" Karen gestures at his face, mottled brown and yellow like bruised fruit. One scrutinous glance from Karen Wheeler has him mentally cataloging the numerous injuries decorating his face, and he can feel them all at once. 

The swelling in his eye has gone back to normal. His lip's scabbed over for the third time and he can feel the edges peel away where he absently pokes at it with his tongue. Steve wishes he could hide the evidence of his failure in the same way he can with the headaches, fuzziness, and the night terrors. The stiffness in his hands and neck, and the high-pitched static in his ears.

"Yeah, looks like I'm not the best fighter in town." His laugh is hollow. She knows it in the tilt of his lips. He knows she’s figured him out by the tap, tap, tap of her foot.

"Mike said you were protecting them," she says, lilting up at the end in question. "He said something about the new girl, Max, and how her brother didn't care much for Lucas."

When he nods, she pulls out the chair next to him. Her normal spot at the table, Steve on one side and Holly on the other. He never really understood why Nancy and Mike always seemed annoyed by the way she was always around, or how they felt genuinely misunderstood when Karen would ask about their days. Maybe they saw Ms. Byers carve her way into another dimension to save her son, setting a bar so high it forced them to wonder if their mom would do the same. Not realizing some parents wouldn't notice their child missing in the first place.

It's not a competition, Steve repeats to himself whenever he feels that familiar thick bitterness climb up his throat. The Wheeler’s lives aren’t better or worse from one his, just different.

Karen pats his fisted hands, pulling him from his reverie. He unclenches his teeth to take a sip of his favorite drink, and she smiles at him. "Is that what you came to talk about, Steve? About the fight?"

"Kind of," he answers. "I'm worried that Max's brother won't– that maybe it'll happen again. And I want the kids to feel safe, so I was hoping you'd let me watch out for Mike when he's not home. I've already talked with Mrs. Henderson and the Sinclair's, and they're ok with me driving the kids to and from school, hanging out at my house until they're done with work. Stuff like that. Max's mom's alright with it too, not that you know her, I guess."

He takes another large drink to stop his rambling. Talking with the other kids' parents wasn't easy for him– well, except for Claudia, who welcomed him with open arms and a slightly painful kiss on his forehead. But now all he can think of is the fact that he can't remember the last time Karen Wheeler hugged him and that she probably never will again.

"Do you think Mike would feel safe with you?" The question cuts through him. He looks up to see genuine softness in her eyes, and Steve’s forced to realize he's not actually sure what Mike would think. He'd only thought of the kids being together, all in one spot where he can see them and know for certain they’re alright without having to drive all over town in his pajamas in the dead of night just so he can be absolutely certain. "I know Nancy forgave you pretty quickly for what happened last year. And since I've gotten to know you, I've seen you grow and change for the better. But Mike," she trails off.

"I know." He’s not sure of what else to say. How did he get this far without even considering what Mike would want? He spent weeks planning what he'd say to everyone's parents, assuming the kids would be ok with it. How could he be stupid enough to remember that, no matter how hard he fights, Mike’s never quit hating him. "I'm not sure what to do to get him to forgive me."

"My boy might be stubborn," she says, "but he knows right from wrong, and he knows a good person when he sees one." Karen stands from the table, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she bends down to look him in the eye. "If you talk with Mike and he's ok with it, then I'm ok with it." She pats him on the shoulder and he moves to follow her where she’s headed to the side door leading out to the garage.

They find Mike kneeling on the floor, bike flipped upside down and fingers covered in grease as he holds the chain in front of him. Without looking up at them, he huffs, annoyed and frustrated. "Mom, I told you I'd be done before dinner, okay? Jesus–"

"Hey, language," Steve chides in time with Karen. They share a smile until the moment's severed by Mike's shrill screech.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Instead of scolding him once more, Karen gives Steve's arm a last reassuring squeeze before he hears the door close behind him. Mike stares at him, confused and impatient. Steve supposes he can't blame the kid, but it doesn't change the fact he doesn't know what to say.

Steve takes a cautious step down off the entry mat, the hard concrete floor shooting spikes of cold through his socked feet. Mike stands and takes a step back, wiping his greasy fingers on his pants, and he finds himself feeling a little bad for Karen when she inevitably finds them in the laundry pile.

Might as well rip the band-aid off.

"I want to be your babysitter."

"Fuck no!"

"Hey, I said language, Wheeler! How many damn times–" he trails off, the automatic response dying out as Mike's answer settles into his brain. "Why?" It comes out sounding small, more desperate than he likes.

"Why would I want you as my babysitter?” He throws his head back, barking a laugh so full of hate it reminds Steve of himself, of his father. “You think you can get whatever you want just because you've got money and hair and a fancy car. You've convinced everyone to forgive you, and that you're a 'good guy', but you're still just King Steve.” 

Mike throws the chain down on the ground between them, and Steve flinches on reflex. The tantrum unfolding in front of him is red and swollen and hurts more than the cuts on his face. 

It leaves Steve momentarily frozen, long enough for Mike to dash towards the side door and out into the yard. He follows Mike around front to the driveway, socks damp and cold with melted snow. Steve wraps his arms around himself, jacket on the hook inside the front door with only a maroon Henley to fight away the chill of a dark, winter evening. Mike isn’t faring any better in jeans and an oversized zip-up sweatshirt, but Steve breathes a small sigh of relief to see the kid’s at least got shoes on.

"Mike, look, I'm sorry–"

"You're sorry?" Mike yells, turning to get in Steve's face. "Do you even know what you're sorry for?"

Headlights blind them as Nancy pulls into the driveway, hurrying out of the driver's side door. Steve takes a step towards her when he hears another car door close. Jonathan rounds the front of the car from the passenger’s side, taking his place shoulder-to-shoulder with Nancy as they stare at him in confusion.

"What's going on?" Nancy asks, gesturing to the both of them.

Mike scoffs. "King Steve here thinks he's going to be my babysitter just because he's charmed everyone else’s parents into thinking he’s a good person now." He's looking at her like she's in on the joke, but she's looking at Steve with surprised awe in her eyes. Brief butterflies fill Steve's chest, quickly dying out when Jonathan takes Nancy's hand. He sees her squeeze his grip, yet she doesn't look away.

"Steve?" Her eyebrow's arched in question, and even Jonathan tilts his head as they wait for an explanation.

He somehow can't find the words. They're trapped in the fog behind his eyes, and each time he thinks he's grasped it, all he finds are nightmares. 

You weren't there, you left me! You left me and I was scared and alone and I almost died because you weren’t there and youleftmeyouleftmeyouleftme–

“Nance.” A small whisper, a plea. Jonathan squeezes her hand but Steve couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing now that matters. “I just want them to be safe, please.” She frowns, pulling Jonathan in her wake as she stands in front of Steve. Nancy’s gaze pierces through him, and he watches as she catalogs each and every one of his injuries. 

Steve closes his eyes as she gently runs her hand over the cut on his forehead and into his hair. They never talked after they made it back to the house. He doesn’t blame her for it, at least he tries not to. She’d been concerned with Mike, flying to his side as soon as her and Jon had stepped through the door. Mike poured himself over Will’s limp body draped in Jonathan’s arms, and Nancy had wrapped herself around him from behind. It was beautiful and painful and it was in that moment he knew Jonathan Byers was the perfect man for a girl like Nancy Wheeler.  

Steve hears her sigh, and as he holds back tears when her touch leaves him unmoored, Steve looks up to see Nancy and Jonathan share a look of understanding he’s never experienced from her. The way she looks at Jonathan isn’t with what he now understands as motherly exasperation. When Nancy gazes at Jonathan, she sees a partner. Someone who will stand next to her in a fight and support her the way she supports him. 

Jonathan needs her just as much as Nancy needs him back. But she’s never needed Steve, not really. He’s only ever needed her, and that only ever weighed her down. 

He knows she sees the desperation for purpose in his eyes. The drive to be useful if not wanted in full. As Steve holds back tears when she removes her hand from his hair, he’s momentarily bolstered by Jonathan patting his shoulder. A gesture in solidarity that leaves Steve stunned enough to miss Nancy turning to Mike.

"Mike," she says, firm and unyielding in a way only Nancy Wheeler can sound. "You know Steve’s changed. None of us would be standing here if he was still just King Steve. He kept you safe from the demodogs and from Billy. You know he deserves a second chance so why won’t you give it to him?"

Mike sneers at her. "Just because you were stupid enough to give him a second chance doesn't mean I will. He's an asshole, Nancy! He was an asshole to you and you act like it never happened. You just took him back and he got to have Christmas with us like we all loved him. How did you expect us to like him when you couldn't even pretend to?”

Her eyes are wide, mouth hanging open, and she steps back to gain some space. Steve's never seen this kind of anger in a kid before– deep seeded and heavy– and it seems Nancy's just as surprised. 

He turns to face Steve now, screaming at him for all of Hawkin’s to hear. Light from the kitchen window flashes across the snow covered front lawn, and Steve absently wonders if Karen predicted how this would all go and wants to see for herself.

“You're an idiot if you think you’re the one who kept us safe. You got your face beat in while Max did all the work. Why would you think you're good enough to be my babysitter when all you are is a punching bag?" Steve watches Mike's face bloom red across his cheeks and ears, flamed with rage built up over a year of sharing a dining room table with a guy he hates.

When Mike’s first punch hits one of Steve’s bruised ribs, he tries his best not to wheeze and fall back. The second hit sends sparks of lightning through his chest. Even through the searing pain and the high-pitched ringing in his ears, he finally understands that Mike’s right. Steve really is stupid, in a way. 

Because when Mike looks at Steve, he sees every bully who’s ever pushed him down or called his friends names. Every popular asshole who looks at him in the halls and only sees the weird kid who plays DnD and joins AV club. 

Mike looks at Steve and refuses to see the difference between him and bullies like Billy Hargrove. People who find outlets for their anger through violence and scathing slurs instead of brains and compassion. 

Steve’s always been angry. An angry child raised in an angry home by an angry father. All out in the open and easy to see by anyone who looked their way, not that anyone did. Best to avoid Richard and Elizabeth Harrington if they could, but obvious all the same. So Steve tries not to be too hard on himself that he failed to recognize the same undirected anger in Mike’s eyes. It’s not so obvious with the Wheelers.

Maybe monsters and bullies and missing friends drove an angry and confused Mike to his father, unbothered and aloof, leaving Mike with only the same bullies and monsters to model his anger.

Maybe Nancy looked to her own mother to find a polite, mild-mannered woman who kept her feelings close to her chest. Steve only ever saw Nancy as passionate with a fierce sense of justice, when she’s just a girl angry that her best friend is dead and there was nothing she could do about it. How their relationship fell apart because Steve’s never seen a girl filled with rage, so he couldn’t recognize the fire in her eyes for what it was, and how Jonathan’s eyes burn the same.

Maybe, Steve thinks, the four people standing in this driveway are all searching for outlets for the same, too-big emotions bubbling inside of them, and Mike’s picked Steve. 

Good. Because now Steve finally has a purpose for Mike Wheeler.

He’s not sure when his arms wrapped so tight around the boy screaming into his chest that he couldn’t move, but he feels Mike shaking against him as his small, grease-covered fists continue to hit him in the back, each strike slower and softer than the last. Steve’s surprised to see Nancy silently crying in Jonathan’s arms, her hands clenched in the front of Byers’ jacket and knuckles as white as the snow around them.

Steve’s whispered apologies morph into just a string of slurred, repetitive noises. He knows the anger never really goes away, but there’s only so much energy to burn before it flares out and dies. 

Steve’s socks are soaked through, his toes are filled with painful pinpricks, and there’s a wet spot on the front of his jacket where Mike’s head rests against his chest. Whether it’s just a towel and a punching bag or a babysitter and protector, Steve will be whatever Mike Wheeler needs him to be. 

Drained, Mike finally slumps against him. Steve holds him up.

“Mike,” Steve says softly, moving the boy back far enough to look him in the eye, “it’s ok if you don’t want me around, or if you don’t want me to be your babysitter. I want you to feel safe, and if that’s not with me– then it’s not me.”

The kid’s face is a wreck of red splotches, puffy eyes, and a leaky nose. Steve smiles, as soft and gentle as he can manage as he tries to pry Mike’s dirty fingers from his sweater. The small hands hold firm, and he watches as Mike does his best to stop from hyperventilating. 

“What about Will?” Mike asks.

Before Steve can ask what he means, Jonathan cuts him off.

“I’ll talk with Will,” he responds, smiling at Steve. He lets out a small chuckle. “I think Will’s been wanting to meet you anyway. He’s heard enough about you from Dustin and Lucas that I think he feels a bit left out.”

“Really?” Everyone jumps at the volume of Steve’s voice, shocked.

“Yeah, man,” Jonathan laughs again. “They won’t shut up about how cool you are. I think even Max likes you.”

The scab on Steve’s lip breaks open, his smile so wide he can feel it prickle behind his eyes. He hoped the kids had grown used to him by now. Fairly confident that Dustin, Lucas, and Max enjoyed having him around, even if it was just to poke fun at him. All in good spirits, and that’s ok with him.

Knowing Will Byers, of all kids, wants the chance to get to know him is more than Steve could’ve ever hoped.

“I’d love that,” Steve chokes out, releasing his hands from Mike’s shoulders to rub the wetness from his eyes. 

“Come over Thursday morning. Early, like six-thirty. Mom’s usually getting ready by then.”

Steve nods, hard and fast and excited enough that it makes him a bit dizzy. Last year, Jonathan had told Steve all was forgiven, that saving him from the demogorgon more than made up for their fight. He never really believed him. Steve only accepted the apology because it was important to Nancy, not because he felt he deserved it. 

To find out Jonathan not only truly forgave him for what happened, but that he trusts Steve to keep Will safe. After everything the boy’s been through, everything the entire Byers family has survived, he feels overwhelmed with gratitude. 

Mike sighs, low and exhausted. “If it’s ok with Will, then I guess I can give you another shot.”

Steve tastes the metallic tang of copper on his tongue when he smiles again. 

“I promise I won’t let you down, Wheeler,” he vows. He’s met with a hesitant but genuine smile, and it fills him with hope.

Steve walks with them back up to the house to grab his shoes and coat. Karen greets them at the door, pulling Mike, then Nancy, and then Jonathan into a hug. He finds the same bitterness in his throat again, but it’s smaller now. Easy to push aside now that he’s starting to understand the Wheeler’s as they are, rather than how he used to see them.

He hopes he can be more than what Mike sees in him too, happy just to be given the chance to show them all the person he’s trying to be. Someone who’s safe and strong and caring. All the things he needs to be a good babysitter.

[clumsykleptorocketscientist]

Can I just say, whoever Nancy ends up with, be it Jonathan or Steve or neither, it is not what matters the most about her character. HOWEVER, I really don't think she should end up back with Steve. Steve is not a bad guy in the slightest. He is one of the best guys and characters in the show. But, he and Nancy want different things and I think that's really important to focus on, because it's why they don't work. Steve talks about how he had this fantasy with Nancy as a mother to his children, and that's okay that it's what he wants from a partner, but Nancy doesn't. Remember the argument her and Jonathan had all the way back in season 1 where Jonathan mentions her "rebelling" and then settling down with Steve just like her mother (which Ted and Karen Wheeler should NOT be your romantic goals). It's clear she doesn't want to do that. She literally wants to fight the government and the patriarchy, seen especially in season 2 where she wanted to "burn the Hawkins lab to the ground" and season 3 where she wanted to stick it to her douche bag bosses. Jonathan, I don't think he wants that perfect family either. He seems perfectly fine with helping Nancy do all her illegal shit. He's fine with standing on the side, holding the camera and telling her that she's doing amazing sweety. Of course, if Nancy ends up on her own, that's fine, although I LOVE Jancy especially for the dynamic of it's them against the world. I just don't think Steve and Nancy rekindling their romance is the best idea.

Quick side note, I like the idea of Ronance, but I personally love Jancy and, from the few bits I've seen, Robin and Vickie ( Rovickie? Unsure if the ship name).

Edit: Let me just address some things.

A.) I think Jonathan talking about going to the community college and not wanting Nancy to follow him and resent him wasn't saying he could ONLY see the relationship becoming loveless, he was just saying that the plan they had was not working for both of them. That he had to deviate, but it doesn't mean Nancy should and he was afraid she would and inadvertently ruin what they had. In a round bout way it's a preservation move. Going to a college because your girlfriend or boyfriend is, is never a good thing. Now, yes, Jonathan and Nancy's relationship seems strained. I don't want to say loveless, but strained. But Jonathan has been in California for awhile now so that's bound to happen. I do think there is still love there, it's just difficult to navigate and they're still technically teenagers ( in the show). I'm just saying strained, yes, but loveless, no.

B.) In season 2 Jonathan was very much willing to help her burn the lab to the ground. They knew it was dangerous, but they did it anyway and he supported and helped her. Season 3 while, yes, at first Jonathan did not want to rock the boat at first, it was because he needed that job. Think about where he comes from vs. where Nancy comes from. Really in that argument, I see both sides. Sexism bad but also he needs a job for his family. Anyway, he came around in the end, from what I remember, which again is difficult with the money decision. Again sexism is bad but he never dismissed that the bosses were douches, just that they needed to put up with it. Something I'm very sure he changed his mind about.

C.) When I say that Nancy doesn't want that, I mean that Nancy doesn't want to be like the perfect mom Steve's fantasy has her to be. I never meant no family, just no perfect family. That if they did have a family they would teach their children to make waves because " Nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world."

D.) as for Steve wanting Nancy in his future and that's all that matters, yeah I may have misread that maybe, but the perfect mom scenario he painted just wasn't something I agree with. But, hey, that's just me.

[oncamelliastreet]

it’s not talked about enough how horrible of a father and husband ted wheeler is. like, i’ve always seen him as an asshole and a neglectful father and husband. he’s very distant with his family, and whenever his family is around, he doesn’t actually pay attention to them. the most personal we’ve seen him with any of his family is holly. it’s clear that karen feels unfulfilled in her relationship. she’s constantly changing up her looks and is rarely seen without a glass of wine, and whenever it’s brought to their attention that their kids are in trouble, ted is consistently focused on how this is going to affect him and karen has to tell him off for being so self-absorbed.

hopper is more of a father figure to mike than his own father, as seen by the amount of times he has to give him a damn hug in the show because nobody else will. and while I think nancy has relationship issues for other reasons (such as her association between barb’s death and steve), it’s clear that both she and mike have similar issues being emotionally vulnerable in relationships (neither of them being honest about their feelings and having difficulties saying ‘i love you’ to their partners (though in Mike’s case this is definitely also because he’s literally in love with will)) and i don’t doubt that those issues stem from growing up seeing a poor relationship between their parents, and ted being emotionally neglectful. I don’t like him at all, I find even the lines he’s given that are meant to be jokes to be very telling about who he is as a person and a father, and that’s not somebody I would be happy to be married to.

[bylerschmyler]

@wibble-wobbegong was talking about how Mike basically never fits in.

He has black hair while his family has either brown hair (S1 Karen, Ted and Nancy) or dirty blonde hair (Holly, Later seasons Karen).

He is standing out with his outfits at times. Like this shot from S2 where he is the only one neither waering teal or white.

But what if I tell you that not only he himself but even his room stands out too?

Mike's room from outside

Since season one it's been shown to us where the Wheeler kids sleep. Nancy has the room at the garage while Mike has the room on the other side of the main house (in the gif you can see a closed door between Nancy's room and Mike's. It's either a bathroom or Holly's room)

And it's always standing out too.

When it's dark outside Mike's room is dark too while the rest of the rooms are brightly lit.

During daytime we see that Mike's blindfolds/curtains are very different from the other rooms. His room is standing out heavily here.

Also @aemiron-main talked about how a door in the creel house has vanished in what is supposed to be different timelines.

The same thing is happening to the wheeler house. While it's not directly connected to the possibility of different timelines, it's still very weird.

Mike should have a second window much like Nancy because we can see the window from outside here

but he doesn't have a second window as far as I can tell. On the wall were that window should be his bed is placed and there is no window

On the other side of the floor there is a window too much.

Because at the place where the window should be we only see a chimney.

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

Who dies next in Glimmer >:D

(Sorry guys :3 no 'neither' or 'Ted' option, we're traumatizing the Wheeler children in this house)

[hawkinsquarry]

first love, late spring

part 2/6 of wraith pinned to the mist

summary: it’s too dangerous to love in a time like this. so for now, you’ll share dish washing duty.

contains: steve x gender unspecified reader; angst; mutual pining

a/n: this is kind of a filler chapter to set up future chapters in the series. after my last fic i decided i wanted to make a monster hunting series so <3 i hope you enjoy!

You wake with a bit of a start, the warm body that was under you suddenly gone. You prop yourself up on one elbow and watch Steve disappear into the Wheeler’s bathroom. You frown but don’t follow, simply laying back down and sighing. The morning light, hazy with fog, shines through the back door. It’s such a rare sight these days. You’re inclined to get up and step outside, but you’re simply too tired. 

Your eyes drift shut for a moment before you hear Steve swinging the bathroom door open. You can tell by his footsteps that he’s in a hurry. You open your eyes, expecting him to come to you, but he instead goes to Robin. He shakes her until she wakes with a start, falling off the couch she was on. “Ow!”

“Come here,” he urges, helping her up. Neither of them even glance at you as they go into the bathroom and shut the door. But even with the door shut, you can hear them, as you’re close in proximity. 

“What happened last night?”

“What always happens,” Robin snaps, clearly unhappy that she’s been woken up so rudely. “You stepped in front of danger and -”

“What is this?”

There’s a little pause. “You got hurt. There was a Demogorgon, and it swang at you - caught you with its claw, I guess. You got knocked out and - and - well, Nancy got it -”

“Who the hell gave me stitches?”

You hear Robin scoff. “Who do you think, loverboy?”

You’re a little upset that he doesn’t remember, especially with the attention he’d given you. But you already figured the medicine Eddie supplied had made him loopy and a little more sentimental than usual. The ‘loverboy’ makes you perk up, wanting to know more, the implications obvious. 

“No. No. No no no no no.”

“No, what?”

“There’s no - I’m not - don’t call me loverboy.”

“Loverboy.”

“Rob, I swear to -”

“Swear to Cupid? Ow!”

“It can’t happen,” he says, and your breath hitches. “This isn’t the time and place for romance, okay? It was - it was misguided, anyway, I was - I don’t even remember.”

“Steve, come on.”

“No, I’m serious, Robin. This can’t happen. I was stupid last night. I shouldn't have let it show like that. I can’t - I can’t right now. I can’t even think about that right now.”

Your brows furrow. 

“Since when did you ever put your love life on the back burner?”

“Now! Right now! It doesn't matter how I feel about them if I don't even know if we'll wake up tomorrow!"

“Okay! Okay, okay, I get it. But you might want to talk this out. It was pretty obvious last night."

"Jesus," he groans. You can hear him pacing over your heartbeat. "What did I do?"

"Well, you slept with them, for starters."

"Don't say it like that."

"And you were asking for them and touching them and - I think it was obvious, but I guess I've known for a while."

"This is really bad."

"It's not bad," Robin sighs. "You just... have to talk to them about it. They probably feel the same way."

"About me?"

"The situation," she stresses. "But they were quick to lay down with you last night, and they did fix you up, so...."

There's a long pause this time, and you think they might be whispering. Finally, Steve says, "It can't happen. Not now."

"I know, Steve."

You stop listening then, heart hammering and feeling a little sick. It's a blessing that Steve likes you, but he's right. It's not the time. You feign sleep when they exit the bathroom, peaking with an eye open as they head upstairs, Steve stealing the smallest look at you.

You wish he wouldn't have.

===

You’re washing dishes after breakfast now, Ted Wheeler staring you down over the edge of the newspaper. He seems particularly miffed with Eddie Munson, who’s wasting chocolate syrup and whipped cream in an attempt to make Holly laugh. 

Steve stands beside you, awkward and stiff while he dries what you hand him. You’re not sure why he’s in such close proximity, given his previous conversation with Robin, but you don’t say anything. You just wash and rinse and hand the ceramic and glass off to Steve, who seems deep in thought. 

Finally, he quips, “You think Ted can smell the drugs on him?”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, maybe.”

No words are spoken about you sleeping on Steve’s chest, or how he looked at you like you were the world last night. 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, fidgeting with the dish towel. “For. You know.” He points to his head and you smile.

“Not a problem.”

“I don’t know if I could stitch you up so casually.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I think you would if it came to it. It’s easy if it’s necessary.”

Steve clears his throat. “Well, thank you.”

“Mhm.” 

“And what about your hands? I remember how hurt they were.”

“Oh,” you laugh, finally looking at him. “That was just your blood, not mine.”

He blinks, hand slowing on the plate he’s drying. “You didn’t get hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. I just didn’t want to scare you, that’s all.”

“Oh.” 

You both stare at each other, your smile falling. When you finally rip your eyes away from him, Steve shuffles in closer, his elbow hitting yours. 

“I’m really thankful for you,” he starts lowly, fingers colliding with yours as he takes a cup from your hand. “I’m thankful for last night and every night before that. I'm - I'm so glad you're in my life right now."

“I know it can’t happen,” you whisper, continuing to stare at the sink. "Us, I mean."

Steve pauses for a moment, surprised you knew where he was going. “Do you understand why?”

“Of course.” Your hands still. Working up the courage, you finally look at him. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. And I’d rather not get hurt, either.”

Steve’s eyes are soft as he looks at you, and he nods once, curtly. “I feel the same way.”

You nod back. Everything has become blunt and rational since the world ended. There’s no what-ifs, other than the bad ones. You can’t think about tomorrow, let alone a time where you and Steve could actually be with each other. It might not ever happen. And if it does, and the other dies….

"So we agree, then."

You nod again. "I like you, Steve. But we shouldn't let it get to that point."

He nods again, too. "Okay, good. Good. I'm glad we agree. And - and no hard feelings?"

"Not one," you promise, but you can't look at him and say it.

There's a silence between you, a mutual understanding and grieving.

“They’re drafting,” Steve says suddenly, a dish clacking as it rests upon another one. “They want to have people to fight.”

The idea of someone in Hawkins, Indiana, fighting these monsters - someone other than your circle - is so laughable that you outright scoff. Steve laughs, too, gently. His elbow keeps bumping into yours and you force yourself to side step away, the closeness too much for you. “It’s honestly sad.”

“They don’t know what they’re getting into.”

You both look at each other, frowning, and then continue with your duties. 

“You’re not signing up, right?” you ask. 

He shakes his head. “I mean, I thought about it. And then I remembered we have our own tiny army, so….”

Your eyes roll. “Ridiculous that they - they’re making people sign up to kill themselves, and yet if you’re caught trying to kill a Demodog….”

“Maybe it’s worse than we think,” he says, voice hushed. “Maybe they just need distractions.”

You swallow harshly, letting his words sink in. You hand him the last plate and reach for the drain plug. “Please don’t sign up, Steve.”

“I won’t,” he promises softly. “Gotta make sure you stay out of trouble, don’t I?”

You scoff and look over at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling. Your chest aches. “Yeah, definitely.”

[renegade-diamonds]

Ronance cuddling headcanons?

Ooooohhhhhh, the fluffy headcanon ask? Don't mind if I do......

Robin's usually the little spoon, but they switch often depending on the type of affection either of them needs.

Nancy loves skin-to-skin contact when cuddling. She adores the little humming sounds Robin makes when Nancy traces her numerous freckles lightly with her fingertips.

Robin really likes the smell of Nancy's shampoo, so she often falls asleep while cuddling with her face buried in Nancy's hair.

At first, it was normally Nancy who initiated cuddling, but as Robin became more comfortable and confident with their relationship, she started initiating waayyyy more than Nancy.

Neither of them can ever turn down cuddles, no matter the circumstances. One time, they even pulled off the road while driving to cuddle in the backseat. They were both pmsing at the time, and a really sad song came on the radio and upset them.

At first, most of their cuddling sessions are spent at Nancy's house. She has a lock on her door, and her parents are usually very good at giving them their privacy. Ted's clueless about their relationship, but Karen's known since before they even got together, and she's the MVP at letting them have their space.

They start having sleepovers at Robin's house since her parents work night shifts; Nancy's convinced that Robin's bed is the most comfortable surface in the world, and they spend a lot of time happily curled up together under the blankets.

Every once in a while, Max, El, and Erica comes over to the Wheeler house for a girl's night sleep over in the basement. All three of them sleep cuddled up between Nancy and Robin. Nancy's always the last one to fall asleep during these sleepovers; she spends a lot of time watching over the girls, grateful for how peaceful they look after all the crazy shit that's happened with the Upside Down. Robin will usually stir, her Nancy-sense can detect when her gf is brooding, and she'll lure the uptight girl to sleep by softly singing the little lullaby from Nancy's music box. Needless to say, Nancy falls for it every time.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Manifesting a Wayne Munson and Ted Wheeler friendship.

"Yeah, some people think cause I don't talk much that I don't care neither," Wayne would tell him. "Like I have always told Eddie, people will see what they want to see. If all they see you as are the people in their lives who hurt them, that's all they'll see unless they decide otherwise. People won't change their minds unless they want to. Can't do it for 'em."

"I thought you don't talk much," Ted said.

"Asshole," Wayne smirked.

"Sorry about Eddie," Ted said. "Mike says he's a good man. I didn't know him. I wasn't sure what to think of him at first. . ."

"You change your mind?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah."

"You're better than most."

"I caught Mike crying in the mirror and cutting his hair. I helped him fix it. I told him how sorry I was. He yelled at me that he didn't believe me and that I didn't give two shits," Ted sighed.

"It breaks your heart, doesn't it? When they think you don't give a damn?" Wayne asked.

"Every damn day," he whispered.

"We're going to save this town even if they went after my boy. I'm gonna prove them all wrong," Wayne said.

"I'll help," Ted said.

[apatheticlexicographer]

BYLER FIC REC WEEK DAY 1: POST-CANON recs

All We Need Is Time by SlytherinsAndSnitches

will-centric; some plot. one of my favourites, it’s “friends to enemies to strangers to ???” will has depression, and in the three years since S4 he’s drifted from the entire party. he and mike had a bad falling out, but when they become coworkers at the record store they’re forced to reconnect. as if that wasn’t enough, will is starting to show the signs of vecnafication. the angst is deliciously agonizing and the plot is just starting to kick in. multichapter, just came back from hiatus a few days ago

the gaps and the silence by delusionaltogether

will-centric; no plot. the supernatural events of S4 never happened, but mike’s awkward visit was basically the nail in the coffin for their friendship. will never left lenora, and he’s now busy majoring in art and avoiding people as much as physically possible. he’s taken off guard when mike, who shows up in town with the sole purpose of reconnecting with him, casually admits he used to have a crush on him. the mutual pining is stronggggg and neither of them are smooth T_T longshot, complete

Lost Without You by Julia_Skysong

alternates between mike-centric and will-centric; some plot. will and mike are 26 now and haven’t talked in years, since mike disconnected himself from the entire party. will has a career writing comics based on their experiences with the upside down. mike surprises him when he brings his 7-year-old daughter to one of will’s signings, causing them to reconnect. this fic deals with a lot of heavy topics about homophobia, trauma and addiction but it’s not a constant misery-fest. will and mike’s reblossoming friendship is very sweet and mike’s daughter is adorable. the burn is slow but it suits the story perfectly and feels a lot more healthy and organic than rushing into things. love isn’t framed as a cure-all for their issues, and i really appreciate that. multichapter, ongoing

I’m a Wreck (Without You Here) by TalkingToTheLights @talkingtothelights

mike-centric; some plot. 33 year old mike has been distancing himself from his friends and family for years, but a tragic death forces him to return home and confront everything he’s been hiding from. the angst is strong and MCD is part of the core premise, but i promise it’s not will who died. mike is a mess for real. multichapter, ongoing

the darkest hour by AmberEyedFox

mike-centric; no plot. mike finally gets his head out of his ass after he breaks up with el. some of the headcanons in this fic aren’t what i typically gravitate toward, but it’s written in such a captivating way that i don’t care. the byler is soft as hell, what more do you want from me. long AF twoshot, complete

The Crossover by nbfutureboy

will-centric; plot. the party are all grown adults now. will writes horror comics and mike is in a band. they haven't talked in years, after an explosive fight. they're both slated to attend the same convention, but will's plans to avoid mike are derailed when he mysteriously vanishes. the mystery is so cool! multichapter, ongoing

Path of the Paladin by olliecoddle

mike-centric; sorta plot. 23yo mike has a terrible fuckin time! the fic. featuring ted wheeler's funeral, mike's very messy relationship with will, his even MESSIER relationship with his sexuality, and copious amounts of D&D lore as a thematic framing device. multichapter, ongoing though it's been a minute since last update

I Didn't Run, I Was Not Done by ryoukootonashi

will (and richie)-centric; plot. when will goes to college his assigned roommate is richie, who keeps overhearing will talking about the weirdest shit to his friends. richie is still suffering from clown-induced amnesia and would really like to know what the fuck is going on. another "can't believe it's not not crack!!!" fic lmao. multichapter, ongoing

[henrysglock]

I have a random science question for you, could it be possible for Henry to be sterile due to his special blood type? Or maybe whoever was inseminated by him would have complications in the pregnancy if the baby carried his blood type, as it would be incompatible with the mother's

That's a really good question!

When it comes to blood types...differing blood types alone don't affect fetus survival rate. What we'd need to look at is the genetic change that caused the unique blood type, since blood type is a genetic trait. That mutation was not lethal for Henry, as far as we know, so it ends up depending on the reason for that lack of lethality.

Is it because the change itself isn't lethal? Is it due to trait dominance? Or is it because Henry has another set of genes that compensates for the lethality?

If it's the first, then no, there are no sterility concerns. If the second and third, then yes. It then becomes an issue of trait dominance and/or assortment of genes.

There's a whole slew of genetic explanation I can go into, and I can do that under the cut, but to keep it short...Personally, I think the second option is more likely, considering that Brenner tells Henry that ten children so far have survived. That means there were God only knows how many miscarriages...and that means there's probably a question of trait dominance and lethal/compensatory trait systems.

tl;dr: He wouldn't be sterile due to the blood type itself being incompatible with the mothers, but to the lethality of the genetic change that caused the mutant gene basis for the unique blood type.

Lethal/Compensatory—If it is the case that the mutant gene is balanced out by a compensatory gene, then gene dominance and assortment play a vital role in offspring survival.

At its simplest, it looks like this: Should a child receive the lethal mutant gene but not the compensatory gene, the child would die in-utero or shortly thereafter. Should a child receive neither gene, they would not be of interest to Brenner. Thus, the surviving children in the lab would have both genes: lethal mutant and compensatory.

This system, at a deeper level, also depends on trait dominance irt the lethal mutant and the compensatory gene.

I'd guess the lethal mutant is a dominant trait, meaning it's going to overpower whatever wild-type gene copy the mother brings to the table. If it's not, we'd see quite a few offspring who end up being normal children who are carriers of that lethal trait (think hemophilia) with no compensatory system. If it's recessive, that also means that both parents would also need to give a copy, which makes it far less effective as a genetic pseudo-pathogen.

I'd also wager a guess that the compensatory system is dominant trait, but requires triggering to fully activate (see: exposure to Dimension X or the presence of the lethal mutant blood type gene from a parent).

The lethal mutant gene, given that it's a blood-type gene that seems to affect both girls and boys, is likely on chromosome 9 in the ABO gene, which is a somatic/not sex-linked gene. (If it were X-linked, none of Henry's children would have it, and it would be entirely dependent on the mothers...which would make no sense with Henry being the source. )

The compensatory gene (read: the Powers gene), however....I'm looking at Terry, possibly at Virginia, Karen, Joyce and even Patty and going hm. It sure does seem to be the women (Brenner voice: It's the mother, always the mother). We don't see anything weird from Ted or Lonnie, but we do see supernatural weirdness from the Creel children, the Wheeler children, Will, Joyce, and Patty. I'd wager the compensatory gene(s) are X-linked, then (hence the studies asking for pregnant mothers). I'd also wager they're either recessive or incompletely dominant, given the appearance of mothers who seem to have some/a limited degree of psionic ability pairing off with men who have no abilities...who also happen to end up with sons who have abilities, meaning the son received a copy of the compensatory genes but no tempering genes from non-powered the father. Do I have a basis for this? Yes, in a different post with a ton of punnet squares.

tl; dr: I'd guess the lethal mutant blood-type gene is a dominant mutation on an unlinked somatic gene, likely chromosome 9 which houses the ABO blood type gene. I'd guess the compensatory gene that corrects for that lethality is house on the X-chromosome, and that it's a recessive or incompletely dominant trait.

[brionysea]

okay. so. i'm gonna dive into something that's been on my mind for a while

let's go into this with the assumption that "food = queerness," specifically mike's queerness

(season 1)

we're off to a good start with nancy. but mike kind of playfully defends himself and doesn't seem to take it personally

mike does the same thing to nancy's plate. she doesn't like it. nancy isn't like mike

karen's dialogue also makes it sound like his connection to the byers is being questioned

AND THEN!

ted gets involved to take mike's side

he tells nancy off for swearing, which is very interesting with the christian concept of queer people going to hell kept in mind

this is fun because "will = obviously queer." everyone somehow knows that will is queer. that's not will, karen says, it's just mike. mike who flies under the radar. i don't think karen knows

meanwhile, ted is still paying attention in the background. even holly's watching them. karen's the only one not looking

later, at dinner, will's hate crime-coded disappearance is discussed while mike isn't even touching his food. karen refuses to let mike join the search party, calling will being in danger "more reason to stay put." more reason to keep flying under the radar, maybe?

ted tells nancy not to swear again right before she mocks will's disappearance. mike brings up steve and commits to exposing her secret in retaliation

nancy calls mike a douchebag, ted reprimands her again, and she storms off while mike grins about it. but he goes back to looking sad and worried pretty quick

framing mike and ted as mirrors of each other here, with karen and holly in the background on ted's side, and the dialogue, is just... idk, it's a choice

"what happens when what?" is a very good question. when mike doesn't keep his mouth shut about wanting will, another boy, safe, his sister leaves. but what would ted know about that?

"i'm the only one acting normal here! i'm the only one that cares about will!"

"that is really unfair, son. we care."

we're supposed to be on mike's side where he's just like, oh my god, before storming off himself. but ted has actually defended mike three times today. i don't think he's lying

the topic of will's disappearance makes nancy leave, then mike, then karen and holly. ted is left alone at the table

more good signs from mike's family at breakfast the next day

karen's paying attention this time, but neither of the parents get involved until they start kicking each other. ted's probably decided to take his own advice and keep his mouth shut after yesterday — we don't even see his face this time — so mike ends up defending himself

he brings up the blackmail of steve sneaking into nancy's room as a covert threat to stay out of his business, and there's no mocking of disappearances or outright snitching about secret boyfriends this time

there's a distinction between mike worrying about will's safety and nancy just wanting to make out with/eventually sleep with steve at this point, but mike is the one being called disgusting when what he wants is very innocent. he's already done with the double standards

karen questions if there's something wrong with dinner when lucas and dustin also aren't eating. this never happens at the wheelers' when it's just mike. more flying under the radar. mike's the only one who doesn't have to come up with an excuse, despite being the only one who's actually part of this family

mike looks... kind of really sad while nancy sucks up to karen by complimenting the food. the other boys don't look this down

i think he knows that he can't trust nancy with this. his parents are already off the table because he promised el not to get any adults involved, but nancy theoretically could have been let in on the secret. about el and about mike. but he can't tell her

dustin brings a lot of snacks for operation mirkwood. lucas looks unimpressed. mike looks uncomfortable and confused

mike stays quiet and just shares a look with lucas, who speaks up

dustin isn't fazed

mike earnestly tells el to eat dustin's snacks if she needs to

the return of the nilla wafers! dustin's bummed that they're not real. maybe that mike's not really being himself? idk. they (predominantly mike, since he's easily the best liar out of these three) are actively lying to mr clarke in this scene

a jancy moment gets interrupted by karen talking about blueberry pancakes. more of food being related to romance/sexuality and the implicit concern of the family's reactions to it

ted asks where nancy is when she doesn't show for breakfast, although there's no mention of mike. apparently he's just not eating breakfast today and no one finds that concerning

once all the different groups get together, there's some talk of el needing to be recharged because she's used up too much energy, but no one brings up food yet for some reason

food is involved in making el's DIY sensory deprivation tank, but it's obviously not eaten

joyce turned food into something fun for the party at some point, which is a huge contrast against karen not even noticing that mike doesn't eat when he's upset

there's a pan in when they realise the egg test is working

lucas, mike and dustin -> mike and dustin

it's mike's turn to ask if dustin's serious when he brings up food, and dustin still isn't having it, saying that el needs to be recharged

good on him, being the only one who remembers that (literal) food is actually an essential human need. pay attention, mike

this dialogue, right before cutting to mike and el's first kiss, is another... choice

el doesn't look super into the idea of pudding

more fake food! which mike introduced el to, but thinks she deserves the real thing

mike starts talking about the idea of his parents basically adopting el after will comes back, and nancy being her sister, but he can't explain why he wouldn't be like her brother

i get the sense that going with el's brother/friend impression would be the real version of this relationship. the attempt at making it romantic is the fake one

[ronanceautistic]

Ooh can you tell me more about the Nancy isn't a Wheeler conspiracy?? I'm intrigued!!

Icl it’s less a conspiracy and more me being silly thinking up scenarios to do with the little people inside my head, That Dustin thing is my only leg to stand on. But I just enjoy it because it’s angsty and also makes sense within the story Nancy has told us about her family. Karen settling for Ted because it’s the “right” thing to do - what if she was already pregnant when she chose Ted? (I know that she canonically has a perm allegedly but like the headcanon that her curls are natural. Neither Wheeler parent has curly hair ((Karen’s is absolutely a classic 80s perm)) really makes you think.)

Also an answer as to why Vecna never showed her Ted when he showed her family dying MHM. I’ve found a second leg to stand on!