Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He drove back, head pained, nausea settling into his stomach and a sheen of sweat beginning to cover his body mixing with the dirt, grime and particles from the upside down covering them all.

“I got us there, Steve. I don’t see why I couldn’t-“

“Never again, Mayfield.” He says quickly, swallowing the bile that wants to find an exit.

“We did it, you guys.” Mike was in the back seat, his energy and loudness vibrating in Steve’s brain. “I can’t believe we did it.”

“Wheeler, please keep it down. It worked, we know. We were there.” 

In the seat next to him, Dustin is eyeing the older boy.

They approach the Beyer’s house slowly.

“Everyone stay here and I’ll check how Billy is.”

He turns off the engine and begins to walk towards the house immediately hearing the doors open and shut behind him once more. Without even having to turn he knows they’re following.

“None of you listen, do you?”

“Billy almost killed you, no we’re not gonna let you go in there alone.” Lucas answers. Max pushes closest to the front next to Steve as they open the door. 

No Billy.

Harrington could almost collapse there in relief and exhaustion. Dustin notices the sway and wraps around his waist.

“Let’s get you down, ok?” Bringing a hand to his temple he agrees as the younger teen pulls him towards the sofa. They surround him as he’s lowered to the couch.

“I’ll get more ice.” Max offers, Lucas follows her to the kitchen as Dustin and Mike watch him squeeze his eyes shut in pain.

“Are you ok?” Mike says almost compassionately.

“Yes, I’m fine, Wheeler. Just need to rest.”

Just then Dustin begins to open his eye with a finger causing him to shoot up and glare at him.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“I’m seeing if you have a concussion!”

“Well, duh!” He answers back. “I know it’s a concussion, dipshit.” He pulls himself back down on the couch as Max enters with the ice pack handing it to him.

“Then we have to keep watch and wake you. We have to make sure you wake up.”

“Look, as soon as anyone else gets here- I’m out of here.” He motions the ice pack over his eyes and nose. 

“To go to a hospital?” Dustin asks, as if that’s the obvious answer.

“No, just-“

“You can’t go home with a concussion, Steve. You stay with us or you go to a hospital.”

“I will go home, ok.”

“Technically you can’t, your car isn’t here.”

He begins to shut his eyes and vaguely hears the conspiracy against him begin.

“-Two hours, we wake him and ask questions. I’ll do first shift, it was my stupid brother who did this.”

“That’s fine, I’m waiting for El..”

“I’ll take after you, Max.” Dustin offers.

And darkness carries him into her deep waters.

Commotions are made near and around him but he can’t be bothered to pull himself back into the surface of any conversations. He feels suspended in the darkness, his stance still on guard with a bat covered in nails waiting for the next beast to attack. 

Suddenly, he’s ripped back to the surface, eyes blinking open to Nancy pushing on his shoulder. The pain in his head is immediate and overwhelming. He needs to try to hide it.

“Hey come on, that’s it. Wake up, ok?” Her voice is sweet and low.

He sees a flash of red beside her and knows it’s Max hanging nearby. 

“Come on-” He grumbles.

“What’s your name?” 

“Nance, please-“

“No, your name.” She’s firm in her asking. Commanding even.

“Steve.”

“Where are you?”

“Hell.”

“Steve, where are you?”

“Beyer’s.” 

“Who did this to you?”

“Billy.”

He grunts more, pulling himself further into the couch and away from her before returning to the comforting darkness, away from the pain enveloping his body.

Nancy looks to the kids before her. Jonathan accompanies Joyce in laying Will down on his bed. 

They wipe Will with a wet cloth and change him into comfortable pajamas. Nancy looks down at Steve. 

“Tell me, again. What happened.” They all begin to jump in but she hears the groans coming from Steve and silences them with her hand, choosing one to go. “Max.” 

“Billy came for me. He was attacking Lucas and Steve stepped in and they fought and Billy hit him in the head with a plate and he- he went down and just- he just kept hitting him.” Her eyes went wide retelling the story as she relived it in her memories. She shakes her head. “I injected him with that stuff they gave Will. When we came back he was gone.”

“Came back from where?” That’s Jonathan joining the conversation. “Concussion?” He asks Nancy as she nods. “Shit, he got him good.”

“We went to the tunnels.” Mike explains, ready to take the blame but knew their plan worked so he doesn’t care about whatever reaction he’s about to get. 

“You did- WHAT.” They both shout.

“And you what- just left Steve here?” Nancy asks, almost shouting, but remembering to keep it down. Her hands begin to visibly shake, Jonathan taking one of her hands to motion her to calm down.

She’s lost in the thought of what she’s once again gotten him into. Last year with the demogorgon and his help then. Now he’s risking his life not once but several times this night for her brother and his friends just because. Her guilt begins to grow as she also wrestles with what she’s done with Jonathan this week, intimately. She’s brought back into the conversation as Dustin starts to offer an answer to Jonathan’s question.

“No, we kinda took him with us. He woke up and guided us to do… the burn.” Dustin felt more sheepish as he explained more.

Nancy looks to Jonathan with wide eyes who shrugs in disbelief.

“With a concussion? How did you even get there? There was no way he-”

“I drove there.” Max raises her hand. 

She turns back around and grabs his wrist for a pulse. Nancy is shocked and decides her now-ex needs a quick look over once more.

“His pulse seems steady.” She watches his breathing next. “Ok, his breathing seems steady, right?” Jonathan nods, examining Steve and then swinging back to the kids before him. Before anyone can say another word Hopper is entering the door with El in his arms.

“Does anyone care to tell me why Billy Hargrove's car is here?” He gruffs as he shifts a sleeping El in his arms. “I figure she’d be more comfortable here after all that.” They all nod and Dustin starts.

“Billy’s car is here because Billy was here but he’s gone now.”

He’s immediately taken aback by the slack form of Harrington, the once party king turned demon fighter and willing babysitter on the sofa. His face was red and swollen.

“What or who happened to Harrington?” He sounds exasperated. He looks to Jonathan who throws his arms up immediately in defense. 

“That’s Billy!”

“Jesus Christ. This kid.” He gives El to Jonathan who takes her into Will’s room, settling her down. He walks over to the couch, giving a nod to Joyce. They smile.

“Think he needs a hospital?” She asks the other adult but they’re interrupted by the teen himself.

“I’d rather go home, Chief.” He grumbles as if returning from the dead. “You’re all too loud.” He pinches the bridge of his nose but releases a pained gasp, spazzing upward, grabbing the back cushion of the couch. “Shit.” 

“Yeah, not happening, Harrington.”

He tries again to pull himself up.

“Just need a ride- really.”

He almost gets to a sitting position when Dustin pops under his shoulder.

“Dude, you really can’t.”

“I agree with the kid, kid.” Hopper agrees.

Steve looks around the concerned faces before him. He has no choice but to concede with a reluctant moan.

“Can we at least try to be quiet?” His only request. 

Lucas switches a light off immediately and the kids shuffle off to Will’s room to be near their friends.

Max hangs back as everyone else congregates in the kitchen to let him rest.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Yeah, Mayfield.” Not opening his eyes.

She grabs his hand and squeezes it, he squeezes back.

“I heard you.” He mumbles.

“What?” She asks, taken back a bit.

“Lucas. What you said.” He slurs his words a bit, just looking to get it out. “You’re not him.” He squeezes her hand again, sleep grabbing on to him again. 

She wipes tears from her eyes. He overheard everything she told Lucas on top of that bus. He protected her from Billy then- no question, because he believed her. She swallows hard. This guy who met her hours ago and defended her and her friends without a thought because he knew she-they needed it.

Nancy approaches the girl, hand gently grasping her shoulder.

“You ok?”

Max looks at Nancy, tears in her eyes, wiping them fiercely but smiling a relieved smile. 

“I’m good. Really.” Nancy smiles and gives her a nod to join everyone else in Will’s room. 

Jonathan approaches Nancy, grabbing her hand to guide her to his room. She pauses. 

They look down at slumbering Steve.

“Mom said she’s got him in another hour to wake him, she and Hop are too wired to sleep. We should try.” 

 She almost reluctantly follows him as they enter his room and make their way to his bed.

He stops, sitting on the bed.

“What is it?” He feels she’s in another world.

“It’s just, it’s Steve.” She nearly whispers. She doesn’t face Jon, her form in shadow as he basks in the moonlight from the window.

“My mom and Hopper-“

“No. I just.” She puts her hands to her head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you still-“

“No. No.” She turns to him, her face finally illuminated. “Not that, this- I want this- us.”

“Ok.” He drags on. Unsure where she’s going. Unsure if he should move closer.

“He just does that. Doesn’t he?” She muses.

“What? Get his ass beat?” Jonathan tries to joke, Nancy doesn’t take the bait, a frown tugging her face. 

“He defended the kids. He doesn’t know them. He just went and he stayed. Jonathan, he stayed last year, for us.”

“Yeah.” He sees her point. She holds a sadness now and he grabs her hand.

“We talk about how we’re not who people think we are. The priss and the weirdo.” He nods as she continues “I think…”

“I know, Nance. And you’re right. He’s not.” They both look at the door. A new revelation about the character unfolded before them. “Maybe no one is, and it’s just a collective society imposing these stereotypes fucking it up for everyone.” He takes a breath in though “still not my favorite guy.” Letting out a small chuckle.

She sighs but folds into his arms, feeling still slightly conflicted but content

Chapter Text

He hated making promises like this. Steve knew it was empty the moment when he nodded and agreed. He knew the drill. Smile, nod, feign concern for his own self and get the hell out of there as soon as possible. His finger fidgeted against the paneling of the car door. A fucking patrol car of all cars. 

Hopper was dropping him off, listing off things to look for with himself and to give him a call if anything changes. 

He’s too busy focusing on the empty parking spots, at least he can rest in peace as his parents are gone. That’s right. One silver lining.

“Chief, I just want to shower and shower and-“

“Look kid, I’ll give you today. Here’s all I ask: just call me or Joyce tomorrow. Any of us. Check in.” 

Hopper sighs knowing it’s in one ear and out the other. “Harrington.”

He gives him that trademarked teen look. But it’s not the same he’s seen anytime he’d broken up one of his parties or caught him at one. It wasn’t his charm, it was contempt veiled in exhaustion hidden behind a messed up nose and bruised face.

Jim watches as the wounded teen walks up to the double grey doors and watches as the boy is swallowed whole by the house. 

He sits outside for another five minutes, taking in the view in Loch Nora. Soon a call comes through bringing him back to duty, back to regular life. It’s time to hide the truth he’s encountered and visit Mayor Cline. The mall is nearing completion and he’s needed for something.

Steve enters his living room, throwing himself onto the sofa but not before grabbing a throw blanket to catch his grime and bruising.

He felt like he’d gotten no sleep the last twenty four hours staying at the Beyers while they monitored his concussion. 

He should march right to his bathroom and shower but he knows his parents aren’t due home for another 9 days and he can handle a couple more hours having only been wiped down. He checks his hair for any remaining ceramic plate pieces. They feel embedded within but his scalp tells another story. Maybe the memory of Billy fracturing him is a feeling to stay permanently. A constant pang echoing to his failures as a human being.

Truth be told, how was he expected to push forward this last year? 

Nancy called him out for trying to lead a normal teenage life- and she was right. 

It was bullshit. 

Other dimensions exist. 

Demons from said dimensions exist. 

He’s fought them. 

Numerous times now. 

He can’t win a fight against a human but he’s doing pretty well against these beasts from the upside down. 

But he can’t write that in a college essay.

What’s the point anyway? 

Life is nothing he expected it to be. 

Any security he felt was ripped from him last Christmas when the holiday lights lit up and a monster dispelled from the Beyer’s ceiling. 

College essays?

College itself?

The forms lay on the desk in his room half filled out and mostly ignored. 

Call it a last minute existential crisis. 

He’s supposed to mail these forms and the checks his parents left him for admission fees any day now. Truth is, he can’t bring himself to care. He can’t pretend it matters. He hears the counselor in his mind:

“Steven, you’re a great candidate even with the limited test scores- you’re so involved! 4 sports! You’re in leadership positions for each one. Colleges love to see this.” 

Recommendation notes he vied for months ago from coaches are collecting veils of dust in his drawer.

Another concussion puts him on the bench. He knows it. No more basketball this year. Baseball is out. Swimming. It’s all gone. He welcomes it.

Billy can take it. He has no value for it like he thought he did.

It’s not even Billy’s fault, if anything Mayfield's brother has just further given him his out. 

He knew he was actively dethroning him already. And now he was looking forward to it so he can fully devote himself to this new version of himself.

Hello, I’m Steve, a real human being. 

Not someone needing approval or necessitates achievement but does good?

Can’t he just, be good? 

Protect. 

Save.

Help.

Maybe?

His door bell rings. Groans and grunts come from himself and he knows his own sounds but they still sound distant.

“Go away.” He mumbles to himself. 

Hopper wouldn’t come back that fast, would he?

He hears the door knob twist opened, he sarcastically thanks Hopper for not locking the door. He buries his head further into the blanket.

“Hi.”

He pushes himself around to face the voice of a small kid at his door, lit up from the back. 

“Ugh.” Is about all he can muster up to say.

“I saw Hopper leave.” He shuts the door behind him and walks up to the sofa, and begins unloading his back pack.

“I brought movies and snacks.” His voice is quiet but cheerful. Assuming even. 

He gives him a pierced look in response.

“Don’t you have school?”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Don’t you have church?”

“I’m agnostic.”

“Bless you?” He pulls his form further into his blanket avoiding the kid and showing the new bruising to him at all costs. Sometimes the healing is more shocking than any initial impact.

“I thought maybe-“

“You thought wrong, Henderson.” 

He grunts as he pulls himself up on the sofa further in an effort to show he’s fine and to leave him alone. 

He should leave.

He’s a solitary creature.

“Still looks bad.” He almost whispers, his gaze confident but shoulders slumped.

“Well.” He wants to say because it is, but he withholds because his big, blue preteen eyes pour into him, begging him to be stronger. “It looks worse than it is, kid.” He reassures instead. Comfort is human.

He puts a hand onto his hat and shakes it lightly. Tossing his hair under. Gentle. Loving. Compassionate.

Dustin uses this as an invitation to plop next to him, albeit maybe a bit too close. But it is a big enough sofa. So he slides a bit further down, taking his blanket with him.

“So Star Wars?” Dustin holds a tape up to the boy, shaking it like a prize. He knows his bruised face pinches.

“That nerd shit- oh come-“

“Dude, you’ve literally fought interdimensional beasts, and a movie where they fight their own types of interdimensional beasts and soldiers from other worlds is-“

“Fine.” He grunts, giving in. “One movie.” He slouches back into the sofa further, throwing the long blanket further to Dustin so he can cover himself as well. I guess this is his Sunday now. 

The younger boy throws candy at the older teen, and they settle in. Dustin crawls a bit closer to the boy, making sure they both have enough blanket. 

The screen begins its legendary scroll.

“Christ, I have to read? Come on, Henderson- concussion!”

“Ok, ok I’ll explain it to you, ok?”

“Fine.” He shrugs, “I might fall asleep anyway.”

“That’s ok.” 

He stays awake for the whole movie and actually enjoys it but he does zone in and out. 

He’s more amused at Dustin’s reactions to scenes. It’s like he’s never seen it before or he’s waiting for Steve to connect the dots but he can’t, so he explains it even more.

He laughs more heartedly as the conversations continue.

He admits to himself, the company isn’t bad.

He thinks back to the kid he spent the night and day with planning their stake out of Dart. They didn’t change, he just let him sleep when he got tired and when he woke up and joined him again he still had that goofy grin on his face.

And here he is. 

Imposing himself.

Like this is normal.

But it doesn’t feel that way to Steve. 

Steve is disregarding anything he normally would feel.

He’s not being imposed upon after all.

He’s becoming human.

And he’s being cared for as a human.

Chapter Text

“How old are you?” 

“18.”

It’s still been the same for five straight days, nearly one week since El closed the gate and Steve has grown a shadow. He didn’t remember much about Peter Pan but he knew the shadow was important. 

“Just rent it.”

“You don’t need to see Animal House, you’re a baby. I’m not getting in trouble.”

“I can handle it, and you said it’s your favorite movie. So let’s watch it.”

He sighs, this kid has been over every day at least for three hours after school making up excuses to his Mom from his house phone consistently.

His new routine is: 

3:20- come to Steve’s

3:23- call his Mom (he learns her name is Claudia)apparently some club is happening, he’s fine. The conversation lasts ten minutes.

She concedes. 

They watch a movie. 

Steve sleeps at some point during said movie. His body is still recovering.

Dustin then always checks to make sure he’s breathing in some weird way he has to hit him for.

“Christ, Henderson I’m fine!”

“Then why aren’t you back at school yet.” 

This was new.

“Who told you that I’m not?”

“Nancy.”

“Why are you talking to Nancy about me- I really don’t-“ he’s shifting on the couch, visibly uncomfortable. 

“Mostly Mike, ok?” He takes a breath in before he continues “She’s been with Jonathan most… days and …nights.”

He groans into his pillow.

“I’m fine, ok, Henderson.” He talks into a pillow avoiding eye contact. This is getting to be painful.

“You said she was special and I just-“

“She still is and it’s fine- I’m fine, ok?” He wants to call him a dork or a nerd or a geek or anything to make him go away but he’s apparently a big softie now. 

His heart is equally as soft. 

Good for Nancy. 

He wants her to be happy. 

“Steve.”

“Henderson.”

He pulls himself from his pillow and his couch-bed to face the boy he’s seen consistently the past week. He decides to flip the conversation onto his tween companion:

“Why, dude…” He has to ask, his frustrations mounting over. Why is this kid here?

“Why what?”

“Why are you here? Like all the time?”

“I just thought you could need someone.” He bashfully admits, still holding onto his grin as he sees Steve struggle to hold any real emotion on his face. 

Steve eventually melts and groans at the same time.

“Fine, just FINE.” He pushes his blanket off the sofa and his pillow.  “Then make yourself useful and help me and get us a new blanket and the pillows from the guest room. They can get your stupid, oily popcorn on them and it’ll wash off. You’re watching the jiffy pop this time, I need to shower, ok? What weirdo movie did you pick tonight?”

“I didn’t- you seemed to be getting annoyed yesterday so- I didn’t.” Dustin shrugs and looks at Steve. 

“Tomorrow I have D&D at Mikes so I can come early-“

“Dude, give yourself a break and do your nerd game. I’ll be fine. I could use a day alone.”

“You sure?”

Soon enough Henderson leaves and returns bringing down the pillows and blankets and Steve finds himself getting comfortable.

“I have Porkys in that tv stand, ok. It’s in the white sleeve. And listen- your Mom finds out- or your friends- that I let you watch this- you’re dead, like so dead, Henderson.”

“Porkys?!”

“Just put it on.” 

For once Henderson was mostly quiet during a movie, and per usual he fell asleep.

Nancy was bothered. Billy roamed the halls and glared. Sometimes he tried to give her a “look.” Like he knows she knows what he did. 

But now she has Jonathan to look after her. He grasps her shoulders tight, but she’s not sure if it makes it easier or worse. She was subtracted from any cool crowd she was previously added into from Steve. 

She could tell, this winter semester would not be fair under the rule of King Billy. 

Steve was still noticeably absent.

All groups noticed.

It has been a full week of school and he’s missed all his classes, so far.

She’s begun hearing through the grapevine and the mouths that some are saying Steve had even removed himself from the basketball team. 

His kingdom being removed stone by stone.

Her inside source says what they hear from the band geeks- Coach got a call and then informed the team. The then co-captain, He’s out, he quit.

She bites the inside of her cheek. 

It’s his senior year.

What is he doing?

She pulls on Jonathan’s shoulders noting how much more confident they seem with her under them. She could laugh, she’s the one who can handle a gun.

“What?” He asks genuinely concerned.

“What have you heard?”

“About?-“

She sighs and Jonathan takes the hint as Billy approaches the two of them.

“I heard I’m 3 for 4 for tearing down Harrington’s dreams now.” He licks his teeth, glaring at the two teens before him. “I’ll be life guarding at the pool this summer. Heather said I was an easy in. Poor, poor pussy boy. No wonder you had to move on… to… this…” he growls, gesturing to Jonathan.

“Leave us alone. And leave Steve alone.” Nancy stands unimpressed at Billy.

“Of course, I promised my dear, dear sister I would. And I am. This is all him. He’s undoing it all himself. I just get to bask in his aftermath, rebuilt for me.” He nods to Jonathan who rolls his eyes in response. 

Jonathan looks down and finally understands Nancy’s apprehension towards Billy, and he feels foolish for not focusing on it more before.

He’s becoming unconsciously concerned at how focused Nancy’s concern for  Harrington is growing. It’s a pang of jealousy he’s not proud of.

His doorbell rings at 4:00 on Saturday. He knows his parents are back tomorrow at some point and Dustin has his nerd game tonight. He was so sure he was finally having an actual night to himself.

He opens the door and is faced with a familiar redhead holding a skateboard.

Not another kid. What’s his life becoming? Are they doing this on purpose?

“Hey.” She looks up at him, emotion blank.

“Uh, hi?” He leans on the door frame, crossing his arms.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“For what?” 

She pushes past him as he stands there in disbelief. Who do these kids think they are? Who do they think he is? Some kind of on-call babysitter?

“Uh, Mayfield-“

“What, Steve?  Can't I stop by and see how you’re doing. I gave you a week.” She goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge.

“Ok.” He sighs following “well as you can see I’m fine.”

She laughs sarcastically.

“If that’s what you’re calling it.” She grabs a half eaten sandwich and makes her way to the sofa, plopping down.

“What are you doing?” He’s genuinely asking.

“Getting ready to watch a movie. Dustin mentioned a comfortable blanket?”

He dumps it on her head from behind the sofa. He just washed it.

“I brought the Karate Kid.” She opens her bag and throws the movie to him.

“Ok?” He’s not getting out of this, is he?

He pops it into the VCR and goes to the sofa, eyeing her up.

She settles further into the couch, she looks over him cautiously. They’re on either ends of the sofa sharing the blanket. He feels her emotions shift to a nervous energy.

“Are you?” She begins, voice low.

“Am I what?”

“Are you, ok?”

“Never better.” He groans, resting his head on his hand avoiding eye contact.

“Billy said you quit a bunch of stuff and weren’t in school all week.”

“I’m glad he’s taken notice.” He lets it hang out of his mouth, sarcasm dripping.

“You can’t let him-“

“I’m not, Max. Believe me. I made these choices.” He faces her as she nods, accepting the answer reluctantly.

“Really.” He continues. “I promise Mayfield, he had no factor on these decisions, ok?”

“He’s such a dick regardless.” She mutters. He nods in agreement. 

They exchange a smile as the movie starts.

She’s a good movie companion. She doesn’t talk through it, they just watch. Halfway through he falls asleep again. His body hears a movie, feels a child nearby and immediately he needs a nap.

When he wakes up it’s dark outside and Max is no longer on the sofa. He sighs, she must have left. He approaches the kitchen but sees the outback patio lights are on. She’s on a chair looking up at the stars.

He opens the door and takes the chair beside her.

“Dustin tried to tell me what constellations were which the other night.” He muses, they share a laugh.

“Anything to share more information and show how smart he is, huh?”

“He is though, you know, smart.” Steve looks up at the sky. It’s clear and the stars dot the sky in patterns he now wants to decipher. “You all are.”

“I’m not smart like they are-“

“Max, you’re tough. That’s its own kind of intelligence.”

“Well then you’re a genius in toughness, Harrington.”

“My face tells another story.” 

She eyes him up.

“You heard what I told Lucas on the bus.”

He looks over at her and nods.

“You told me that night before you passed out. I had no idea you heard us.”

“It’s ok, Max.”

“You don’t know me, and he just-“

“No one deserves what he was doing, Max.” He shifts up and grabs her shoulder.

“I don’t need to know you to know that.” He finishes. 

She wipes tears from her eyes. 

He squeezes her shoulder.

They sit back in the chairs and look at the sky.

“I’m naming those three stars and that group here- the wax on, wax off constellation.” She begins, He grins in response.

“This group here, it almost looks like some kind of funky diamond?”

“Yeah. I see it.”

“Constellation Toto.”

“This can be Constellation Ted Wheeler." She gestures broadly to the sky.

They laugh.

“He’s so boring!” She laughs explaining to Steve. 

“I don’t know how he ever snagged Mrs. Wheeler-“

“He like hates Dustin too.”

They laugh in fits.

“How can anyone hate Dustin?” Steve finishes between laughs.

“You know he’s gonna be over here swimming all summer now.”

He sighs.

“No one should want to swim in there.” His eyes darken.

“Why not, it looks like a pretty awesome-“

“Did you hear about Nancy’s friend Barb?”

“Just a little.” Her focus is intent as she sees his mood shift and an uncomfortability take hold. 

“This is the pool. The pool where those things got her. While we, Nance and I were-“ he stops, choking up. He wipes his own tears. He lets out a deep exhale.

“Alright, maybe it’s time we call it a night.” He stands up. She stays seated.

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze still on the cover of the pool.

“What are you sorry for?”

She suddenly rushes into him to hug him fiercely.

He takes a couple seconds sitting in shock at her affection but eventually returns the grasp on her back, wiping a few more tears from his eyes.

“It’s ok, Mayfield, Max. I’m ok.”

Chapter Text

It’s his first day back. He’s hoping to slick through the halls, keep his head down and get it over with as soon as possible. He doesn’t feel great, but he knows he needs to get back to some kind of routine. He’s reviewing his schedule in his mind when a stern voice pulls him back to reality.

“Harrington, my office, now.” He twists his head, he’s barely been in the building five whole minutes and the principal is already staring at him. Hands crossed in front of him. He slams the door of his locker, frustrated. Can’t anyone just let him be? Five fucking minutes.

He goes into the office and throws his bag down haphazardly, planning to take control of this meeting he really doesn’t want to have. 

Before him the principal sits, his previous basketball coach sits to his left and Ms. Keyes, the counselor, sits on his right.

“I have a lot to catch up on, I know.” He starts, indignant. “A week out of school when I was already not doing great-” He will not make eye contact. He puts a hand on his face, careful not to brush any of the bruising still bloomed on his face.

“That’s not why we’re here, Steve.” His Coach begins, approaching the boy, he sees him slightly flinch at his bruised face. Steve shifts his own eyebrows as an almost reaction to his concern. He then becomes aware that they all carry the same expression.

“What happened, son.” The principal begins, cautiously. “There have been rumors, and Coach said you’re quitting the team? It’s your senior year, Steve.”

“Now if I told you what happened, they’d kill ya.” He offers almost comically. 

They don’t take the bait, as he expects.

They brace themselves as he shifts his mood and looks at the three. He has to shift gears.

“Skateboard. Face first. Down some steps. Concussion.” He motions to his bruised face. It’s the line he’s told to tow. He doesn’t get to decide his narrative, the government did. He doesn’t risk looking up from a spot he’s found on the floor, his voice feels remote and removed. “So yeah. No more basketball, Coach. I’m done. You don’t even have to bench me. It’s fine.” He finally brings his gaze to the three adults before him, they all bear some degree of sorrow for the kid. “I’m ok with it. The sun sets on Steve Harrington. At least it was before I had some mid-life crisis and I’m like a 45 year old buying a ridiculous sports car and hiding some separate family from my wife.”

He stands up, pulling his bag up.

“You all did your best. I’ll be fine.” He pulls his bag up, and attempts to see himself out. 

“Steve, how about you come to my office after lunch tomorrow? Talk about this more?” Ms. Keyes is as kind, as expected for a counselor.

He nods reluctantly. 

He exits the room and looks at the lockers before him. He feels tears prick his eyes. He has to remember to exhale. 

A subtle pressure is beginning to build behind his eyes.

Suddenly she’s in front of him.

“Steve.” 

He makes eye contact and she’s around his torso instantaneously. He doesn’t reciprocate. He’s still dazed from his meeting and being back in school, in general. Fifteen minutes in and he already feels exhausted and nauseous, maybe he should go home.

“Hey Nance.” 

Jonathan appears beside him, they nod to one another.

“How are you, man?” Jon pulls Nancy off him and back to him as they look him over. He can only shrug. His tongue finds his own cheek.

“Tired but hopefully I can make it through the day.” He sighs, it feels like a tall order already.

He looks at Nancy and her guilt ridden face.

“Nance, look just-” He motions to her face. “None of that, ok?”

“I’m just concerned-“ she interjects but he jumps back in.

“I don’t need the concern!” He lays against the lockers nearby looking at both of them, their faces still holding that concerned emotion. He lets out a heavy sigh. “This.” He points to his face. “Is healing.” 

“I know.” Nancy nods, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Now, was I expecting to have a constant parade of kids at my house this week, no? Henderson is over like everyday. He’s making me watch movies I normally wouldn’t-“ Jonathan and Nancy’s surprised amusement is evident. “Me. Star Wars. Yeah.”

He looks between the two, it feels like a good place to end his conversation. The noise of overlapping teen conversations is beginning to echo in his brain, causing some pain.

“I’m gonna go.” He motions a goodbye to the pair, pushing his hair back, “Lots to catch up on.” He shakes a random book to emphasize the point. They watch him leave, their faces contorting into frowns.

He somehow never encountered Billy that first day back and he’s not sure if it’s because he wasn’t there or he just didn’t care enough to see him in the sea of students. 

The day is a blur. By his last period the headache has firmly settled in, his vision beginning to slightly blur by the time he gets home. 

He enters his empty home and immediately goes to his bedroom crashing into the bed.

This headache is getting worse. A nagging pit is forming in his stomach. 

Crap, is he gonna puke?

Yes, he definitely is.

He runs to the bathroom, bile coming up harshly. It feels like hours later he can peel himself off the floor. He feels like he’s made of lead. 

He lets a heavy sigh release, followed by a chorus of sobs. 

A sob he’s been hiding. 

A sob he’s been neglecting. 

A sob for his own childhood. 

A sob for his first love. 

A sob for who he used to be and can never be again.

He eventually makes it back to his bed.

He screams into a pillow. 

He’s exhausted. 

He hurts.

He signed yet another NDA.

He can’t say shit to no one but the shits who bother him now.

He can only cope with these same people.

He thinks back to the phone call he had with his Father last night. His parents extended their trip, his father called him to discuss the recent decisions he made and emphasized that they’d discuss it when he was home for Christmas. He would talk to the school. 

Well, surprise Steve talked to the school too.

Just like with the college essays and the applications. What is the point?

So here he is.

He lays on the bed, feeling exposed and vulnerable. That gnawing thoughts echoing in his mind again. What kind of crisis of faith or life is he having? The pain in his head hammers in. No one is around, no one to know better. He can let it go from his body and he finally just shakes and cries.

Or so he thought.

But then the doorbell rings. 

Of course it does.

He ignores it and settles further into his bed. 

Whoever it is- they’ll have to leave.

He’s done for today.

He wraps himself in his comforter more.

He doesn’t flinch when vaguely hears the door click open because he remembers that last Thursday Henderson decided Henderson needed a key and Steve humored him.

He hears him swing open the door of his bedroom to see his buried face and body under blankets. He feels him stalk over to his bed. 

“Please. Henderson.” He can barely say it between hefts. Can’t he just be left alone right now.

“Ok, buddy.”

He doesn’t take the hint and instead finds a space next to him on the bed, making himself comfortable.

Steve lets the cover uncover his face. His red rimmed eyes are staring through Dustin, almost angry but he can’t be mad at this kid. The pain etched on his face was obvious.

“Your hair, and you, look terrible.” Henderson jokes, his voice low. “I heard you went back to school today.”

He sniffs, relaxing some, bringing a hand to his head.

“It was a bad day, Henderson.” He pulls the blanket further into himself. “My head is killing me, I got sick. I don’t know-“ 

He finally exhales. He rolls over looking at Dustin as they lay on the bed.

He’s surprised as Dustin pats him on his head for a change. It’s oddly comforting, but he doesn’t let his expression show it. Henderson then gets up and leaves him for a couple minutes, he hears the water in the bathroom go on and soon returns with a damp rag. He hands him two pills and a glass of water. After he takes it, Dustin motions him to lay back down as he puts the cool rag over Steve’s forehead.

“It’s a migraine.”

“What is?”

“Your headache. I read this could happen.”

“Great.”

Dustin sighs looking at him. He takes in the continued empty house and how he feels swallowed by it, he can only imagine how Steve feels.

“Dude, you need friends.” 

Steve squints an eye at him. 

“Oh yeah? Friends, Henderson?” What the heck is wrong with this kid?  “Yeah? Friends- wow -yeah, great idea! Friends who know these monsters exist and aren’t bound to NDAs? Yeah that’s few and far in between and apparently my options are either these kids who have decided my time is just wide open for themselves or they're way too old like Mrs Beyer’s or Hopper.”

“Or Nancy and Jonathan.”

“Exactly.” He sniffs, feeling defeated. “Not right now.”

He turns over and avoids Dustin’s gaze. He’s decided he’s going to try to go back to sleep. The pain in his head thuds and grows over the next hour. 

Dustin stays. 

Dustin listens as Steve’s breathing eventually evens out. The height of the migraine has finally passed. Steve remains asleep. 

“You stayed the night.” Lucas is shocked as Dustin recounts his evening over Steve’s.

“He let you?” Max asks, a slight tone of disbelief in her voice.

“He had a migraine, he was alone. I wasn’t gonna leave him. He looked really bad. I think he feels lonely and I get it. Nancy and Jon are like well… like that now.” Dustin continues as he pulls his backpack up and Max and Lucas follow. “I know he doesn’t care about DND. Ok, that’s fine- but movie nights: let’s keep those up. For him. So he has us.” 

They park their bikes at the school, pulling their school bags up as they enter the school.

Lucas looks confused at Dustin.

“You’re telling me Steve Harrington the King of Hawkins High- mister popularity, come on-“ Lucas looks between Dustin and Max, both focused on helping Steve.

“I just think you’re reaching-“

Max stops him.

“I’m with Dustin here.” He nods but keeps looking between the two. 

“Fine. Fine. I’m in too.” Lucas finally relents.

“We can be annoying.” Max suggests, “but in a caring way. You know until he’s feeling better.”

Chapter Text

JE 5

Summary: Keys & Keyes

“At least you made it through that first day back.” 

Dustin’s voice bounces around Steve’s head a bit. It’s Tuesday morning and for some reason apparently the little pipsqueak stayed the night. 

He was dead to the world as soon as the pounding in his head became a more gentle thudding against his skull. 

His body must have given up and made the decision to drag him under. He vaguely recalled Henderson being there while he was in duress, after succumbed to the puking and the hot spike in his brain. He wasn’t sure if he was real or something his mind imagined. Harrington wasn’t sure if he should be stunned, annoyed, or appreciative to find the boy asleep on his floor in the morning.  He helped himself to the blankets and pillows of the guest room and made his own makeshift bed. He’s surprised he didn’t build a blanket fort.

The older boy is brought back to the younger as he continues to talk… and talk.

He feigns a smile, as if to agree but is trying to find something to feed the kid for breakfast. 

“I’d try to get the doctor today, at this rate you’re definitely gonna need a Dr’s note.” Steve leans his head on the refrigerator door. The coolness from the open fridge feels nice. He leans into the chill his body is now holding. The headache feels better, and is now more or less just a normal headache at this point. He’s told himself a few times this morning how it feels manageable for today. He can handle today.

“I’m going in today, Henderson.” 

Dustin nearly chokes on his orange juice.

“You had like a huge migraine yesterday-”

“Don’t you need to like go home, and get changed? You can’t go into school wearing the same clothes, dude.” Dustin’s cheeks turn bright red. He hadn’t thought about that. Even when he cut his Mom off, explaining why he needed to stay at (cover story) Will’s he waved off any concerns she had. He hears Steve shut the fridge putting eggs and bacon on the counter. He lets out a defeated sigh, and turns to Dustin.

“I have an extra toothbrush that is unopened under the sink, and I might have a tee shirt and old sweats or something for you, but you’re gonna be swimming in everything.”

Dustin released a big smile and nods emphatically in thanks.

“Aren’t you on the swim team?” He quirks an eyebrow up. Steve assumes he’s  thinking there has to be a pun there.

“Was.” 

He doesn’t need to think about yet another disappointing decision in his Father’s eyes. 

Steve begins cracking eggs in a bowl. He looks back at the kid, who is just watching him. He needs to get moving and stop prying.

“Dude, GO! Get ready! Let’s go!”

“OH right!” He scurries off, grabbing a piece of toast as Steve continues to prepare them breakfast.

“Hey dickhead! No food upstairs!”

“I’ll be done eating it by the time I reach the top step, ok-dickwad!”

Heading to the pantry he gets to work on getting him some snacks together. He observed last week that the kid always has some kind of junk food in his backpack, and he figures he might be out since he stayed last night.

He doesn’t remember too much about Dustin being there last night, except he was. 

“All I wanted to do was apologize to Nancy, why is this my life right now?” He says in a low voice as he releases a large huff. 

He’s not someone’s brother? He’s not someone’s anything. 

He let some kid talk him into looking for some demon dog, next thing he knows he’s making this kid breakfast after what? He decided to have a sleep over? But oh right, how did you let THAT happen, Steve? You let this kid talk you into giving him a key. This concussion has seriously knocked several screws loose. Who are you?

“Steve!” 

“Yes, Henderson?”

“I need clothes.”

He strolls up the steps into his room to find Dustin, shirtless in his room, an akward smile still plastered on his face.

He goes through his drawer and pulls out a grey sweatshirt, he holds it up to the kid.

“This will have to do.” 

He pulls out a pair of green Hawkins High sweatpants.

“These are pretty small for me now, so here.”

Dustin does a squeeze of his shoulders in an off way only he can do, which startles Steve.

“Dude. What the hell is your body doing? How can you do that?”

“Cleidocranial Dysplasia.”

“Cleo-What the hell is that?”

“My body didn’t develop all my bones. I’m missing some.” He points to the area under his neck, “No collarbones.”

“Ok, I guess that’s a thing then.”

Dustin shrugs, doing another trick with his arms over his head.

Steve nods, slightly impressed and then shrugs, laying the clothes on the bed.

“Come on, you gotta eat breakfast and then we gotta get to school.”

“I’m gonna bike, it’s fine-”

“Um, no. You made yourself at home in my house, you stayed the night for some reason-”

“Steve! You were-”

“Ay! I’m not done, Henderson- You are borrowing my clothes and I’m making you breakfast but you draw the line at me giving you a ride in?”

Dustin gives a small shrug. 

“Thought you’d go to a doctor or something.” He says in a small voice. He looks up at him with big eyes and sympathy.

“I will be fine today.” He watches as the younger boy gives him a look of concern.  He’s gotta try to convince him he’s fine. “I’m feeling ok. I’ll drop you off a couple blocks away from the school, is that ok?”

“Ok.”

“I don’t think my parents have ever been as concerned for me as you are right now, Henderson.”

Dustin’s eyes go wide, and his lips trace downwards. He seemed bothered.

“That’s sad.” He breaks eye contact “Don’t you think you need someone?”

“I’m fine. It’s been like this for a while. I’m really just used to it.” He shrugs. “And it’s not like I can tell Tommy or Carol about any of this, and we’ve basically grown apart since last year anyway. So yeah, I just deal.” He notices the look he’s getting from Dustin and decides that’s enough of that for now.

“Come down when you’re done and eat, alright?” He’s hoping his voice hides any annoyance.

“Ok.” 

Steve shuts his door and momentarily leans against it. He’s been leaning on doors a lot lately. Something has to carry this weight and this body. 

Why the hell did he just tell Dustin that. This head trauma is making him say whatever he’s feeling. No filter. 

Then he remembers more of last night. The kid had seen him cry last night and sat with him while that migraine took hold and made him essentially a puddle of a person. Maybe he should take the key back. Lock his doors. Go back to dealing alone. Again. No Nancy.

He smells the bacon and knows it’s ready. Time to plate breakfast for them.

He replays again what he just told Dustin.

Is he really that alone? Is it really a bad thing?

He takes a bite of the eggs and continues to wonder where he got off saying Dustin was caring about him more than his own parents do… Why would he even say that like it was some kind of insult to him? 

He’s taken away from his thoughts as Dustin takes a seat across from him.

Dustin pops down, in oversized clothes that will hopefully not draw too much attention to himself.

“Personally, I think this is what I should wear to the snow ball next Friday.” Steve lets out a genuine laugh and pushes a glass of milk towards the kid. He sees a look of pride on Henderson for making him laugh.

“Calcium to keep the bones you do have strong.”

He takes a sip and then eyes up the teen across from him. Oh great, he’s about to ask another question, isn’t he?

Instead he’s surprised with the conversation his sleep-over companion wants to have.

“Look, maybe I was a bit ambitious in asking you for a key.” Dustin starts as he eats some bacon. “You’re right, you don’t need some kid like me bothering you whenever…” Dustin digs into his bag and pulls out a gold key on a key ring and puts it on the counter pushing it to the older boy. The scrape of it against the table rattles in the older boy's head. Steve begins to zone out, did he really not want Dustin around? Is that what he thinks? 

Is that Dustin thinks? 

Why is he conflicted? He just thought to himself to take the key back. He should. He definitely should draw a line with this kid.

Before he can over think it, other words begin to fall out.

“No…” He begins, his voice almost a caring low to comfort Dustin. “You keep it. It’s ok.”

“I just don’t want to be annoying you-”

“You’re not.” He stops and looks at the kid in front of him, they’re both eyeing one another, Dustin looking at him like he’s caught him in a lie. “I mean, you totally are.” Steve lets out a gentle laugh. “But, I think I’m ok with it.” He pushes the key back to him. “Maybe having someone around who understands isn’t so bad.” Dustin just about jumps out of his chair grabbing the key back. 

He’s back to rattling off ideas a mile a minute.

“Ok- so! Movie night! We gotta watch The Empire Strikes Back then.”

“Oh, do we?” He tries to ignore the subtle pulsing that’s beginning to happen behind his right eye.

He gets Dustin to school, dropping him and his bike off closer to the Sinclair house early that morning. He continues to drive towards the high school, listening to the radio as it starts again. There’s a soft fuzziness in his brain, the song on the radio fading out. The corners of his vision blurring. He makes it to the parking lot. He blinks away the fuzziness of his vision and mind. He has to just get back into a routine and he’ll feel better.

He exits his car and can hear the engine of Billy’s car revving. His stomach drops as he begins to feel the phantom pain of plate pieces being embedded in his skull again. 

He holds onto the roof of his car after he’s shut the door, another brief dizzy spell. He holds off on anything feeling worse. He will will away these symptoms. He will be fine. Harrington starts his walk towards his first class.

“Steve.” Fuck. Ms. Keyes. He twists towards her voice maybe a bit too fast and has to steady himself as another small wave of dizziness grasps his body. It’s the noise of the engine again. The smell of gasoline. And there’s that feeling wanting to return to his stomach.

“Yes.” He breathes out to her.

“Today? After lunch, right.” He hums a yes response as he tries to see what he can hold onto if this wave continues to want to drag him under.

“Are you feeling ok?”

He looks up at her, eyes with dark circles under his eyes.

“I, uh.” He looks at her more, what is he supposed to answer again?

“You know what, can you help me get these to my office?” She holds a plant out to him. He’s still just staring at her. “Steve?”

“Hey, man, Steve.” He turns to suddenly see Jonathan at his side, trying to grab his arm to steady him without drawing too much attention.

“Mr. Beyers can you help him-“

“Nurses office?” He asks. Steve groans an emphatic no. Ms Keyes seems sympathetic.

“Is my office ok then, Steve?”

“Fine, just, fine.” He stops swaying for a moment and pulls away from Jonathan looking over at him, semi appreciative. 

“This.” Jonathan motions to his own face but meaning his. “Is looking better man.”

“Thanks.” Steve groans and begins to look a tad grey. “Let’s just go.”

“I heard you lasted the whole day yesterday, maybe you’re overdoing it-“

“I’m trying to get back into a routine.” He shrugs.

“Have you been to a doctor or anything-“

“Jesus Christ, Beyers you and these kids and asking me about doctors and stupid migraines.” 

“Migraines?”

“Oh yeah, I told you right? I have a new shadow and his name is Dustin Henderson. He’s now apparently my doctor too telling me I have migraines now and that’s this pain and fuzziness or whatever-“

“Wait, are you having a migraine right now?”

“If it’s like yesterday's then this is like the opening act before the main event.”

“And what’s the main event?”

“Fucking pain.” He groans and tries to walk ahead of him.

“You should go to the nurse, Steve. Or leave and see a doctor. I’ll take-”

“I’m good, Beyers.” He huffs. Just what he wants, going to an ER with Jonathan Beyers. That’s a firm no. 

Jonathan seems to pick up on the attitude and responds almost equally snarkily. 

“No one will think it’s cool if you faint in the hallway, Steve.”

He stops and leans on a nearby locker. 

He gives a trademark grin to the younger girls occupying the lockers next to where he’s resting and they swoon, giggling and running away, faces red. Finally, another wall to hold him. He lets the cold of the locker help sooth his head. He sees Jonathan’s eyes locked on someone down the hall and he shifts his gaze.

They both notice Nancy looking apprehensive but briskly walking towards the two teens, books close to her chest.

“Later, Beyers.” He pulls his weight off the locker and nods as he walks past Nancy, opening the door to Ms. Keyes office.

He sits in the chair across from Ms. Keyes and leans back, letting his legs spread further out in front of him. He holds a pillow she had on the seat when he walked in crossing his arms over it. He can use this session to help anchor him for the rest of the day. This dimmer room and soft spoken counselor will be just the thing to ease him into the day.

The bell rings and he feels himself wanting to curl into himself and wait for the sound to leave his body. The experience feels like the ringing is just sitting there, he’s the bell and the tongue can’t stop hitting inside him, pulling up and down. 

She puts a cup of water in front of him and eyes him suspiciously.

“How are you feeling?” A perfectly normal way to begin this conversation. He has a perfectly normal answer. 

He gestures to his face with a finger, “healing.” It’s a tone between a mutter and a sigh.

“What do you think happened in the parking lot? You seemed to zone out and not respond.” Maybe she didn’t pick up on the swaying.

“I’m apparently gonna be getting some migraines from this concussion sometimes. I’ll be fine.”

“Migraines, that sounds painful. This whole concussion experience has seemed painful. Is your doctor giving you medicine to help?”

“My doctor” he says in air quotes “is currently some twelve year old dweeb I’m babysitting.” He looks down to his pillow. “No doctors.” He concludes. “I had a migraine last night that was pretty bad. But I’m ok now.” 

He’s trying to convince her and himself right now. The fuzziness was returning to his ears and her mouth was moving but he can’t seem to follow it.

“Steven.”

Crap, it’s the formal name.

“You should go to the nurse. You should go home and rest. I don’t think you’re well enough to be here. It’s not doing you any good. Is there anyone I can call for you to help you get to the nurse?”

“No, I’ll- I’ll be fine.” He knows she’s right. 

“The principal said your parents-“

“Yeah, away.”

“Is there anyone who can-“

“I told you, I’m fine.” He mumbles as he leaves the chair and begins to walk out the door. “Let’s revisit this in a couple days, yeah?” And with that he’s successfully ended that conversation.

Screw the nurse, he can just get home. He begins to stalk towards the exit, the brightness of the morning blinding him as he opens the doors.

Shit.

When it finally comes back he locates his car and approaches it. The dizziness is back with every step.

Beyers was right, it wouldn’t be very cool to pass out in the hallway. It might be even worse passing out in the parking lot.

He sees a figure lingering near his car but can’t quite make out their face but given the colors he’s wearing, he knows who it is.

Fuck you, Jonathan. Can’t you just leave it alone.

“Harrington.” The husky voice calls to him, before he can respond he trips over an invisible rock falling into the older man, losing his footing and consciousness completely for a moment as the area spins fiercely. A numbing sound takes hold of his head. He feels his weight in the arms of the Police Chief. 

He knows he can’t avoid or talk himself out of this now.

Chapter Text

Just Enough

Chapter 6:

The low hum of the engine is what first came back as he began to regain consciousness. He could feel the brightness of the sun on his eyelids going in and out. The teen really didn’t want to open his eyes. The pain in his head was sudden, splitting and growling. He immediately knows this makes yesterdays look like a mild headache. The most he can bring himself to communicate with is a pained groan.

He hears a soft gruff voice telling him he’ll be fine and they’re almost there.

He can hear his heartbeat in his head. It’s like lifting a weight to open an eye slowly and try to focus on Hopper to his left as he drives him.

“H’ppr?” The word can barely come out of his mouth. 

“Don’t worry kid, you puked before you got into the car.”

He moans in some kind of agony again, squeezing his eyes shut, he releases something between a yell and a sob.

“Dr. Owens gave me the name of a guy for you to see. I’m taking you there now, ok, Harrington?”

He puts his head onto the dashboard, pushing his hands against his temple.

All he can focus on is the pain. How this is worse than that first night after Billy?

Eventually they stop, and as Hooper opens the door Steve’s surprised they’re at a house and not a hospital. 

Hopper leads him inside as they are ushered to a room, where there’s a medical cart and other equipment waiting for them. He moves him to the bed and helps him lay down.

He can’t understand what the two men are discussing but soon the presumed Dr. is above Steve, prying open his aching eyes and shining a flashlight in his eyes. He feels more pained groans escape his mouth once more but his voice feels detached from his body.

Soon he feels pinching on his arm and pressure as something is poked into his skin and taped down. A liquid begins filling his body which quickly turns into a numbness and he’s welcomed into a comfortable darkness away from the hot metal spike that was terrorizing his head.

Hopper was shocked when the boy fell into his arms almost immediately followed by dispelling all of his breakfast to the asphalt. He had eggs.

The usual cocky kid remained nonverbal aside from groans as he pushed him into his passenger seat.

Guilt riddled him as he knew he should have taken him to the hospital that first night instead of letting them monitor him for the first 24 hours. The kid never checked in the following week like he said he would and the police chief wrongly assumed he was fine. 

When Beyer’s called this morning alerting him to the alarming state of Steve Harrington he should have been more surprised but he isn’t shocked the boy's stubbornness won out. Hopper knew the type, he was similar.

He watched as the Dr. moved fast, shoo’ing him away and barely introducing himself before he took one look at the boy and got to work.

Minutes later, Steve lay calm and relaxed in a peaceful slumber, his arm attached to an IV and medicines. Hopper’s surprised how fast the remedies are taking effect.

The Dr. snaps off gloves and looks to the burly man before him.

“He’ll be out for a while, definitely through the afternoon. His blood pressure is regulating, and this medicine should relieve the pain of the migraine.”

He sits down on a stool as Hopper stands arms crossed, eyes still focused on the boy laying on his side on the bed.

“How long has he had the migraines?”

He rubs his brow and looks at the Doctor. “As far as I know? This is his second migraine in two days. The head injury and concussion was over a week ago. We monitored him and he seemed fine for the first 24 hours. The night he got the concussion he also went down into the tunnels.”

“The tunnels.” He repeats, nearly stunned.

Jim nods.

The Dr. shakes his head and looks back to Steve, he nods in thought and begins to write things down. He takes the stethoscope out and listens for a few moments to his chest.

“He should rest through the end of the week. I’ll write him a note for this week and last to take to school. I’ll send him home with a pretty strong pain reliever for him to take when they start to come on. Call me 24 hours after he’s home with an update and we’ll continue to monitor him from there.”

Hopper nods and takes in the information. He watches Steve’s relaxed breathing continue and he turns to the Dr. once more, his own worry stretching across his face.

“He’s gonna be out for a while, Jim. You might as well do what you have to do today.”

He thumbs his hat in his hands around the rim nervously, should he just leave? He’s a friend of Owens, he’ll be safe here.

“I guess I'll head to work. Just let me know when he’s coming around and then I’ll be back.”

The Dr. nods and continues to write notes down.

The end of the day comes fast for Dustin. He has big plans which include getting home to change and bring Steve’s clothes back followed by showing him The Empire Strikes Back. He stops abruptly near the high school’s parking lot when he sees a familiar vehicle hanging in a spot by itself. A maroon BMW.

Immediately, his gut twists. He’s usually home by now. Dustin knew he himself would be later since he had to stop at home, but Steve- Steve should be home. 

He rides over to the car, nothing seems out of place. He then notices the vomit near his car door, that’s definitely eggs. 

Shit.

When did this happen? Is he ok?

He goes to his walkie immediately.

“Hey Will, Mike. Can you ask Jonathan or Nancy if they saw Steve today? His car’s still at school and there’s vomit by his door.” 

He waits a minute and then Will comes through calmly.

“Jonathan said he didn’t look good this morning and he called Hopper, he thinks he got him.”

He knew he should have made him stay home today. He hops back on his bike and rushes to Steve’s house as fast as he can. That had to be where Hopper dropped him off, right?

He makes it to the house and it looks exactly as they left it this morning. He sighs and unlocks the door roaming through the large expansive space. 

“Hey Steve? Buddy?” He runs up the steps to his bedroom to find it exactly as he left it this morning. 

He’s not here. It’s eerily quiet. 

Internally, he wants to freak out. 

Did Hopper take him to the hospital? Ok, that would be fine. He told him he should do that. It’s fine, right? Is he ok? Why hasn’t anyone said anything?

He runs out of the house, locking up as fast as he can, jumping back on his bike but not before trying to get a message out.

“Has anyone heard from Hopper? Steve’s not home. Just… can some just find Hopper?”

He bolts as fast as he can to the city center and the police station. Parked outside he finds his vehicle waiting. He rushes inside, sweating in his winter coat, panting and approaching Flo.

“I need.” He heaves. “Hopper.”

“And who are you?” She asks nicely as Dustin heads to the water fountain to pour a cup into his mouth.

“Dustin, I need to see Chief Hopper, now.”

The door creeks open and sees Jim eye the kids up and down as he continues to try to catch his breath.

“What is it now-“

“Where is he?”

Jim looks honestly lost.

“Who?”

“Ste-“ Hopper stops him immediately, 

“My office, now.” He looks at Flo who gives him a curious look. “He’s fine. We’re fine.” Dustin waves to her and follows Hopper into his office.

He plops into a chair directly across from him.

“Did you take him to the hospital? Is that where he is? I can’t keep biking everywhere around town, just,” he continues and heaves again, “tell me where he is and I can go there.”

“Kid. He’s not at a hospital.”

“Ok, so your cabin?”

“No.”

“What the hell, where is he, asshole? I’m looking for him.”

“I see that, I’m just curious as to why a thirteen year old is looking for Steve Harrington.” 

He gives a look to Hopper and slouches in the seat. He looks down to his feet and mumbles out his reasons.

“I’ve been going over to this place and making sure he’s ok and we’ve been watching movies.” His eyes begin to get glassy. “He’s my friend.”

“Steve Harrington. Is your friend.”

“Yes, Jesus, asshole.” He wipes his eyes. “He even gave me a key to his house and I was the one who told him it was a migraine yesterday and to see a doctor-“

“That was good advice, kid.” Hopper’s voice is now gentler seeing Henderson’s emotional state. He stands up and walks

Over to Dustin, kneeling down as more tears fall from his eyes. He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s going to be fine, ok? Right now he’s with a Dr. who is a friend of Dr. Owens.” Dustin’s breaths relieved. “He’s getting strong medicine and the rest he needs right now. I will likely have him home later tonight but he’s going to have to rest the whole rest of the week, ok?”

Dustin nods, listening intently. His face contorts to a frown like he might break down.

“It all happened because of me.” Dustin’s voice is barely above a whisper. “The demodogs and Billy, I asked for his help and he got really hurt, and now he is getting migraines and I just-” He looks into Hopper’s face for him to find him guilty of something. “He has no one, and I mean I know how that can feel and he’s just really nice and really cool and he was really…” he drifts off. The chief pulls a hand over

His face. 

“You can’t feel guilty, kid. He did what he thought was the right thing to do-“

“It was, it was the right thing.”

“What I mean is, he’s not the kind of guy who's going to think you owe him. So if it’s that, I think you can clear your conscious and move on and go back to Wheeler’s basement-“

“No.” Dustin sits up, dragging a sleeve over his nose. “That’s not it. I just-“

“Look, give him tonight ok. Go tomorrow after school and make sure you’re letting him rest. These migraines are kicking his ass.”

Dustin lets out a small smile and nods emphatically.

“I can, I can do that. Thanks!”

Henderson sprints out of the office and out of his hair.

He taps his fingers against his desk. 

It’s nearly 8:00 in the evening when the Dr. calls him to tell him Steve is coming to. That took a lot longer than he told him it would. 

He entered the room as the teen boy's arm was starting to move. He sees the IVs have been removed. 

The Dr pulls him aside.

“He has two broken ribs, there was an infection starting, I had to wrap them and get an antibiotic going to help clear it.”

Shit.

“He never mentioned anything.” The man rolls his eyes and continues to go over the paperwork.

“This medicine is what he needs to take to clear the rest of the infection. He’s fine for tonight but he needs to start the oral tomorrow. These two” he holds up two more bottles, “one for when the migraine is starting and if it needs a little more help- this one.” He shakes the red cap. “He should not drive if he’s had this one. He will sleep.”

Steve begins to stir and let out a small groan.

“He needs to rest the rest of the week, here’s his note. If anything else gets complicated, call me. He should be doing better now.”

He looks over at Steve.

“I’ll give you a minute. He’s almost awake.”

Steve slowly begins to open his eyes,

Looking at Hopper confused. His hair is damp from sweat and he slowly begins to roll to his back.

“Hopper?” He tries to sit up, and Jim immediately assists him in doing so. He feels his head gingerly and eyes the room.

“Where am I? What happened?” He scans the room “Is this a hospital?”

“No, kid. I got you a private house call, the Dr. here is helping with your migraines and the ribs you apparently broke but told no one about.”

Steve feels for the bandage around his chest and aimlessly scratches it.

“They didn’t hurt so bad compared to… my head.” He still looks dazed, maybe it’s the influence of the drugs he’s on. He feels his head again. “It’s not so bad anymore. It feels pretty ok” He looks at Hopper again, searching for something. “What happened?”

“Well, you went to school again but didn’t even last the first period.”

The Chief can see he’s trying to remember and piece together his morning once more. Suddenly, a realization strikes him.

“Henderson, Will’s friend, the curly haired kid, super annoying- did he get to school? He stayed over…I think? Is he ok? I think I worried him before. I don’t remember much after breakfast…”

Jim wants to laugh. These two. 

“He’s fine. I saw him earlier.”

Steve shakes his head, satisfied. He looks just about ready to pass out again but this time from exhaustion.

“Can I go home?” He asks followed by a yawn.

“Sure, here let me help you, kid.”

Hopper sends El to Joyce’s for the night so he can be sure Harrington is fine. The teen is easily asleep in his bed in record time with a soft snore. He lays on a chair in the living room half sleeping the night away.

He wakes up the next morning to Steve shuffling around the kitchen, preparing something for breakfast. Pulling himself up, he moseys towards the smell.

“I got coffee going, Jim.” Hopper nods and grabs the mug he’s offered.

“What are you doing, kid?” Steve is dressed and cooking and Hopper is confused.

“I have school in like an hour, I’m getting ready.”

“Yeah. No. You’re home all week, kid.”

“I feel fine today. Really. I actually feel pretty good. I can make it.”

“And to keep yourself that way, you need to stay home and rest.” He hands him the note the Dr. gave him. “I’m dropping this off at the school for you today. It covers last week and this week. Eat your breakfast and get comfortable. Take a nap. Do nothing. You need to.”

He groans and look at the older man before him.

“I’m a teen, Hopper, I’m supposed to be moving around-”

“You had a serious injury and you need to take care of yourself so you can manage better next week.”

He gruffs in agreement.

“That Henderson kid will likely be over after school anyway.” 

Steve makes a noise between a groan and a shrug.

“He’ll probably bring another Star Wars movie over.” He mumbles, taking a sip of his water and a bite of toast. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at Jim who is shooting him a look of amusement.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just think you have a big fan in the kid.”

“Yeah… sure. A fan who is always over and making me watch nerd movies.” 

“You want to know what I see, Harrington?” Steve stops and sits in a chair across from the Chief, pushing a plate in front of him.

“What.” He says, almost annoyed.

“I think you like having that kid around.” He lets out a huff, but doesn’t directly respond. “I look at that annoying kid and he’s the first thing you asked about last night when you came back to earth.”

He finds the face Steve makes to that statement hilarious.

“And he just about stalked me yesterday to find out what happened to you.”

Steve lets out a laugh as he holds his head in his hands.

“He’s just a kid, what am I? An on-call babysitter?”

“Maybe. And maybe you’re a role model to this kid. Do me a favor?”

“What.”

“Think about Mike and Will for a second, what do they have?”

Steve shrugs.

“Concussion, Hopper, spell it out, I’m not gonna guess anything.”

“Will has Jonathan and Mike has Nancy. Hell, Sinclair has a mouthy younger sister.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing his thought, “Max has Billy, which even if he’s a dick he thought he was being protective- even if it's in the worst way possible.”

“So what, we’re both only children?”

“Tell me this about Henderson, does he ever talk about his Dad?”

“Uh, no. He’s always talking about his Mom and his dead cat, some science shit, or these movies I just have to watch.” Something clicks for Steve, oh.

Hopper’s head quirks at that statement about the dead cat but continues.

“I just think maybe, and just hear me out, you’re both finding something in each other you both need.”

Steve looks at Hopper, he’s following his thought and maybe there’s some truth to that statement. It’s similar to what he’s been considering the last week. Maybe he’s right, they’re forming a sibling type bond. All of his friends have that, and maybe they found it together too.

Chapter Text

Sleeping all day was easier than he anticipated. Reruns of Gilligan's Island did the trick. Sweet dreams of MaryAnn, and Ginger. And Ginger and MaryAnn.

The swelling on his face is lessening and the bruising is beginning to dim and retreat.

The throbbing in his ribs is now just a dull ache, like he didn’t stretch well after a workout.

Medicine was a good idea.

He feels rested.

He looks out the door and sees it’s evening as the clock on the oven informs him it’s 5:00pm. The house is lit dimly, his every step echoing in the quiet space. 

He’s about to search for dinner, when he hears the door unlock. 

Walking into his living room from the kitchen, he’s not surprised to find Dustin. All at once the kid looks embarrassed, and unsure if he should be there. He turns back to the door, Steve can tell he’s contemplating leaving.

“Hey dude.” Steve starts, approaching the kid giving him a small wave.

“Are you- how are you-” He fidgets in front of the older boy. Dustin wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he opened the door. He wanted to see Steve awake and about, and here he is. So why does he feel like a deer in the headlights? 

“I’m feeling better. I really am.” He smiles at the younger tween, and he watches as Dustin’s eyes begin to water. He tilts his head up so as not to be found out that he’s nearly crying.

Steve goes to the kid and pulls him into a hug. Dustin pulls himself into Steve's sweatshirt and cries.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m ok.” He pulls him back. “You were right, I should have gone to a Dr. and I did and it’s getting better now. I’m ok.”

“You’ll find I’m right a lot.” Dustin laughs between a sob, pulling himself back into Steve’s hug.

“I am starting to realize that.” He looks down at him and smiles. He pats him on his hat and takes it off, throwing it into the couch. “Come on dipshit, what movie did you pack for tonight?”

“The Empire Strikes Back!” His smile is contagious.

“Oh so, Star Dweebs Part 2-” The duo start to head to the kitchen to get their movie night going.

“I think you secretly liked A New Hope.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m gonna make you see Return of the Jedi when you wanna go to the movies.”

“Whatever, Henderson.” Even though Steve rolls his eyes his smile is giving off a different emotion. Dustin’s pretty sure that’s a yes.

“I brought snacks, I figured you didn’t get to the store-Hopper said you were gonna be resting all day-”

“Did you have dinner? I’ll order us a pizza. Why don’t you go get your blankets, and let’s get the sofa ready for movie night.”

“Can we do Pizza Hut!”

“You got it.”

As much as Dustin wants Steve to last the whole movie he’s not too surprised that his head is against a pillow on the side of the sofa, eyes resting closed. He can show it to him again some other time. He made sure not to talk during it this time, keep his comments to himself, he remembers how Hopper told him he needs his rest. He doesn’t need him talking through the whole movie again. He can do that another time. He’s relieved at how easily Steve's breathing is now and how calm while sleeping he seems compared to last week and even a few days ago. He grabs the last slice of pizza and sits back on the sofa, finishing the movie. 

A little while later the movie ends and he’s still in the house and decides it’s probably time to get home. He has school tomorrow.

Shifting up from his comfortable space, he keeps the lights low and shifts Steve’s legs onto the sofa. The younger boy watches as the older shifts further into sleep. He grabs the pizza box and candy wrappers and sodas to clean up. 

Once everything is cleaned up he lingers by the sofa a little bit more before placing his hand on the back of the sofa and softly telling Steve he’s going to leave.

“Hey, everything’s cleaned up, the movies done, you missed a bunch of it but we can try again in a couple weeks, you really have to see this one, ok? I’m gonna go home. I’ll try to come by tomorrow, ok?”

He turns to leave but a hand is grabbing his arm, and he sees Steve, eyes still closed grasping his sleeve. 

“Thanks,” he breathes slowly and speaks quietly. “Thanks Henderson.” Suddenly Steve pulls on his sleeve further and pulls him into a sluggish hug. Dustin folds into it.

“Yeah, anytime buddy.” He sits in the grasp a little bit longer until Steve relaxes back into the sofa. Confident he’s asleep for the night he locks up and leaves the house, biking home before 9.

In his dream, he’s standing in front of the Beyer’s home once again. He hears a howling and grabs his bat covered in nails. The kids are all inside, hanging by the window.  He watches them and screams for them to stay inside. As usual, no one listens. Max runs out during his first swipe at the demodog, knocking him over. He’s not alerted to the others approaching behind him, darting towards Max and the open door. Screams fill his ears as he turns too late and is tackled to the ground by a demogorgon as the dogs invade the house. His bat goes flying out of his hands from the impact. He struggles on the ground as the saliva of the beast drips onto his face. 

He’s let them all down.

Screams and yelling fill his ears from the kids being attacked inside as he can only listen. When he turns his head left, Billy’s outside of his car, smirking at him.

Pathetic.

Fire begins to spark in the woods around them. The demogorgon leaps off him, but steve’s still paralyzed to the ground. 

He watches as the Californian teen picks up the bat and looks at the demogorgon with no fear as the monster runs past, his last view is Billy, eyes enraged, taking the bat to his own head.

Steve wakes up with a gnawing in his brain. He immediately registers a phantom smell of gasoline. 

This is CRAzY!

He wonders if the reason his triggering smell is gasoline leads back to that first night at the Beyer’s house last year. Trying to apologize to Jonathan, finding he and Nancy together preparing to fend off a monster he could barely comprehend.

Is that gasoline?

Last night was just a dream. He knows the kids are ok. He knows he’s ok. He knows Billy is doing whatever it is Billy is doing.

He knows it's Thursday now and he’s still expected to be at home and resting. He feels restless. It’s 10am. A subtle pull begins at the back of his eye- his first warning sign of a migraine. He needs to take his medicine.

He goes to the kitchen, downing the horse pills, throwing bread into the toaster. He breathes out as he notices the greying of the sky, overcast. Rain. 

He watches as the drops begin to fall on the pool cover, the chairs and outside patio. It’s a calming sound in the quiet house as it begins to fall harder, splashing in waves against his windows. 

The rhythm hums against his mind and he rests into the calming noise. Swaying he heads back to the sofa, hopefully this nap is peaceful and less monster-filled.

When he begins to wake up hours later he hears soft murmurs around him, soft spoken words surrounding him about… history? As he drags his eyes open he sees a hat in front of him that he knows belongs to Dustin. From where he’s sleeping he can see a book open in front of him, a notebook nearby as he writes in it. A small laugh travels across the space from where he knows the kitchen is. Is he hearing Sinclair? He then knows he hears Max whisper something joking between the three of them and he hears as they try to not laugh too loudly. 

He lifts his head to see Max and Lucas entering the living room with a snack tray and sodas.

“Shit. We woke you, I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Dustin quickly moves around to face him, and Steve gives him a strained smile. He extends it to the trio as he begins to lift himself up and onto the couch into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, they just wanted to say hi and you were asleep and I-”

“It’s fine, kid. Really.” He drags a hand over his face as he tries to wake himself up further.

“We’re just working on our homework, we can leave-” Lucas looks guilty and nervous.

“No, you’re all fine.” The three smile at him and Max and Lucas begin to sit on the floor by their homework piles. “Just don’t expect me to help with anything.” He jokes.

“H-How are you feeling?” Max looks at him concerned as he pinches his face. 

“Not too bad, Mayfield.” He tries to reassure her. “Better. I’m getting there.” He unconsciously scratches his ribs. He’s still exhausted. Those meds do kick his ass. She smiles big and looks back down at her textbook. 

He likes the feeling of his home having more life to it, even if it's middle schoolers doing homework. He zones out to the mumbling of their conversation, not even trying to follow it. He rests his head on his hand, a small smile reaching over his lips. 

He must have fallen asleep because a little while later it’s Max who’s shaking his shoulder and gently waking him up.

“Hey, Dustin’s Mom left you soup. I can get you a bowl?” He looks around and sees Dustin and Lucas must have left at some point, leaving Max? Instead she fills him in. “They’re upstairs putting the blankets in the dryer. We also know you need to eat and take your medicine. We saw your schedule for everything. I hope that’s ok.” He nods, still foggy and then begins to smell the soup. It smells amazing. He’s grateful for these little buggers, bugging him. He realizes Dustin’s Mom must have dropped them all off over here, it’s still raining outside.

“No worries.” He shifts himself up again, and lets Max walk him out to the kitchen. “Thanks.” She pushes the bowl to him. 

“Chicken noodle, it’s amazing.”

He takes a few sips and lets out a groan as a stabbing feeling enters his brain. She immediately looks concerned for him, but he weakly shakes a hand at her to dispel any concern. “I swear it’s fine, Max. Fucking migraines, I have medicine I can take.” She nods.

“Which one? I can grab it.” 

He points and she grabs the bottle, handing it to him. She grabs a glass, filling it with water.

“Dustin said they’ve been bad the past couple of days.” She shifts uncomfortably, her eyes starting to shine. “He said Hopper had to-”

“I’m going to be fine, Max. He got me help. It’s ok.” He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes. “We talked about this. It’s never going to be your fault, no matter what you think.” She sniffs and pulls him into a hug.

“That pool looks amazing, Steve-” Lucas comes back into the kitchen with Dustin. Mentioning the pool shifts Max’s eyes back to see Steve’s response, holding her breath.

He looks at the pool again. The rain is still coming down, falling over it. 

He’s not sure how to feel. Dustin and Lucas look excited and he has a comforting thought. Maybe he can let them enjoy the pool. Maybe someone should enjoy the patio and the pool, and maybe it’ll help him move on from the tragedy here too.

Chapter Text

It was now mid-January. Steve had accepted his role as on-call babysitter to this group of kids. He drove Dustin to the SnowBall a couple of weeks ago, his face was fully healed by then and the migraines are not as frequent anymore. He assumed since his face no longer told the story of that night the kids would begin falling off and get back to their own lives and activities. 

They apparently had other plans.

At least three times a week someone (or the whole lot of them) showed up at his door, or let themselves in. They barely pay him mind, getting started on their homework, eating snacks or whatever dinner he makes for them and just occupy his otherwise large, empty home. 

Last week he got the insider scoop on why Max dumped Lucas from both Max and Lucas. 

He laughed to himself when Dustin told Lucas “You just have to pretend you don’t care.” 

Lucas looked like a helpless, lovesick puppy. He could tell Max was special to him and not just some crush. 

Hell, they were all bonded, but theirs seemed different.

He thinks of Nancy.

Dustin told him he danced with her and how she told him he was her favorite out of Mike’s friends. She has good taste. But for him, they all have their own qualities that make them special, and in the running for favor. He looks at each of their personalities and bravery to defend one another. To protect each other no matter what. It’s infectious and he can’t help but feel that protectiveness for each of them, including Mike. 

Hopper had even begun letting Eleven come by after school. 

He wasn’t surprised to hear the usual kids were coming by after school. He was surprised after he no sooner put his own backpack on the floor that the knock came. Then at the door was the Chief and the quiet girl with super powers.

“Wheeler said they’re coming here after school.” It was even a question.

“Yeah, I guess that checks out.” The teen mutters, El looks at him shyly, almost nervous. “It’s fine, really.” He reassures her. He opens the door wider and sees as Eleven’s eyes widen, most likely by the size of the space inside. She’s used to Hopper’s cabin or the Wheeler’s house, his home was, well, larger. 

“They usually get here around like 3:20, El.” He motions her to make herself comfortable. “Food is in the fridge or the pantry, help yourself. You too, Hop.”

El runs out to the kitchen, immediately opening the freezer.

“No Eggo?” 

“I’ll remember next time, ok?” He walks over and opens the pantry taking out some pringles. “Mike likes these.” She grabs them and heads back out to the living room.

“How’s parenthood treating you?” Hopper tries to joke.

“Ah, yeah. It’s great.” Steve pushes his hair back, grabbing his backpack off the floor. He notices Hopper walking behind him. “What?”

“Just seeing how you’re doing, it’s been a couple weeks.” He eyes the teen up and down. 

“Face is back to normal.” He shrugs. “Just catching up on schoolwork so I can hopefully still graduate.” He pauses. He probably wants a migraine update. “Uhm…no migraines in like two weeks, so that’s good. Things seem to be.. Back… to…normal.” He drags the last sentence on as he realizes nothing about this is normal.

“Parents been back lately?”

“It’s winter, they’ll stay in Florida for a bit. At least they didn’t get to see the full on-beat-up face I had.” He smirks at Hopper. “By Christmas it was barely there.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, kid.”

“He’s still pissed I quit everything. Says I need to get into some college or program or something, make something of myself somehow.” He downplays the actual shouting match that happened around Christmastime which involved a glass being thrown near his head. 

Hopper gives him a sympathetic look, he knows his own face must give some distance in a stare. Soon the door unlocks and he hears Mike and Lucas.

“I just don’t know what I can do to get her back, I was thinking-”

“Hopper.” Mike stops. He looks around instantly for her. El immediately perks up from the couch running over to grab him into a hug.

“Movies!” She almost shouts. 

“Yes, El, definitely.”

“He doesn’t have Eggos.” Mike gives Steve a look as El is draped on him looking disappointed.

He sighs. 

“Fine. ok. Fine. I’ll put a piece of paper on the counter, write down what you want. Ok?”

Dustin immediately runs out into the kitchen

“YES! Steve I need more Mr. Goodbars!”

Soon a spraying sound is heard and Dustin comes out soaked in Coke.

“Henderson, come on man.”

“I’ll-I’ll clean it up.”

“No, it’s fine. Go upstairs and get something on. I’ll clean it. I don’t even know if you know how to properly use a mop.”

Mike, Lucas and El all are discussing which movie to put on while doing their homework this afternoon. 

Hopper stands in the doorway.

“I usually drop them all off, I don’t mind dropping her off too.” Hopper nods and makes his way out.

The kids settled on Airplane II, one of the ones he grabbed this week from Family Video. He knows he’s been unconsciously keeping the kids in mind when going to the movie store, at the grocery or anywhere really. If they’re gonna keep coming, he should at least be ready. The least he can do is be a good host, it’s what his Mother would do. 

He cleans up the soda and realizes Dustin’s still not back downstairs yet. 

He heads upstairs and knocks on his own door, figuring that’s where Henderson is.

“Hey, dude, you ok?”

Dustin gives a quick “uhhh” and Steve opens the door further. Dustin is looking like he’s been caught red-handed and in a way, he has. Steve notices in one hand are envelopes and in the other papers… more specifically application papers. The same applications he never sent in. The same applications that have been sitting there since October.

“Hey… that’s-” He begins. He knows he doesn’t want to scare the kid, and while he feels some anger rise into him, he knows that’s not what he wants to do right now.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Dustin tries to shove all the papers back into the desk. “It’s not my business and-” He stumbles away from it.

“Dustin.” He stops him. Dustin looks terrified. “Ask what you want to ask.” Steve takes a seat on his bed. Dustin hovers by the door, but then turns around.

“Why didn’t you send them in? Did you decide on other-”

“No. I didn’t.” He says matter of factly.

“But you had everything together, why didn’t you-”

“It just didn’t seem important anymore.” He draws his lips in a thin line, looking down at his carpet. 

“Is that why you quit-”

“Everything.” He half laughs. “Yeah. In the face of interdimensional monsters, a girl with super powers and the fate of the human race depending on it? Yeah, me getting into college, choosing some mindless major that wouldn’t really matter, so I can go and have some Animal House experience didn’t really seem important anymore.” He runs his hands on the jeans at his knees. He drags a hand into his hair again.

He watches as Henderson’s mouth curves down in sympathy. Dustin walks over to Steve, sitting next to him, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I mean, come on Henderson. Partying isn’t really something I care about anymore, so what am I gonna do in college? Study?” He knocks his shoulder lightly. “Plus, I’m not ready to get out of here yet.” Dustin watches as his eyes seem to focus on a serious thought, and he watches as Steve’s hands form fists on his knees. 

“Just in case?” Dustin asks, shyly. He knows the answer.

“Yeah, kid, just in case.”

He throws the hat off of Dustin and pushes his hand through his curls. 

“Oh dude! I’m going to this camp this summer for like all of June! I get back right before July 4th!”

“Dude, that's awesome!”

“Yeah, I know. Camp Nowhere, it's like this super awesome science camp. I can’t wait to go.”

“A whole month? Jesus Henderson, what am I gonna do?”

"Didn't you say you were getting a job this summer?”

“Not by choice.” He sighs, he knows since he didn’t put his applications in he’s going to have to get a job this summer, his Father already told him if he didn’t get into anything, including trade. And since he hasn’t even applied, that’s the future that awaits him.

“They’re opening that new mall in town.”

“Starcourt?”

“Yeah, find something there.” Dustin looks like a light bulb went off. “The movies!”

“Oh, no, no dude, the popcorn smell can trigger migraines, it happened when you took me to that Jedi movie two weeks ago-”

“You had a migraine that day?” Dustin’s face falls, he thought they had a good time. He had no idea Steve was in pain.

“It wasn’t bad-”

He accepts that as an answer because he’s got a new goal: a good place for Steve to work so that they can continue to check on him.

“Ok, ok, so something and somewhere that won’t trigger a migraine-”

“I’ll figure it out, dude, ok?” They pound fists and suddenly Dustin jumps on top of him and they roll off on the bed. “Dude! What the hell!”

“I’m your father!” Dustin shouts, caught in an imaginary roleplay game, Steve laughs.

“NOOOO!” They both hold up imaginary light sabers and rush at each other making sounds and laughing.

Chapter Text

PART II: Starcourt Times

“Whatever job I get is not to benefit you twerps.” Mike and Lucas stare at him, they clearly have not considered this. He didn’t exactly yell, but it's definitely sterner and more in the tone of annoyed than usual. Dustin and Will begin pulling the snacks out to the living room. It’s nearly the end of the school year and Steve has been slowly trying to apply to jobs. Slowly. He really has no interest in it. He wishes he didn’t walk away from the lifeguard job, but he really doesn’t want to see Billy all summer either.

“Why not the movie theater, Steve?” Mike starts. “We could see all the movies we want-”

“Once again, Wheeler: my job is not for you, Wheeler-”

“I’m just saying if you have to work in the mall-”

“Who said I HAD to work in the mall-”

“It’s just assumed, everywhere else in town is closing and it’s not like you can work at the paper like Nancy’s got that internsh-”

“And jonathan-” Will begins

“Enough.” He cuts them both off. He doesn’t need to hear the continued rise of Hawkin’s favorite power couple: Nancy and Jonathan.

He’s not jealous, he’s happy for them. He’s happy for her. She deserves to have a boyfriend as ambitious as she is. 

He grips the counter. He has to shut his eyes, the light is starting to pulse inside him. 

He usually hides any frustrations he has from the kids but this time is hard. He feels the aching in the back of his left eye, and he knows another migraine has been triggered. It’s happening more this month. Graduating last week, by the skin of his teeth, according to everyone. This would be his second one in three days. Now the kids are on him as much as his Father is on getting a job. 

Dustin’s leaving next week.

He feels dizzy.

He’s going to be stuck with everyone else. Mike Wheeler. Christ. He agrees with Max, that kid can be a dipshit. He tries to look out to the patio, at least they can enjoy the pool or something. He reaches for the medicine to help. He feels it's going to be bad. It’s been building since last week, he knows a big one is coming. He’s had two mini migraines this week, but he knows this is the big one. A three-days-in-bed, migraine. He knows if he takes the next pill he’s out like a light, but he knows he’s going to need it. 

But the kids are here so he’s going to have to hold off until they’re gone.

He’s in a daze the rest of the afternoon, Max broke up with Lucas again. It’s like the third time. He has no idea why. He can’t focus on the conversation. He told Lucas  before to get her flowers or a gift and it’s worked before. He can only really nod and feign listening as Lucas self analyzes everything he’s doing. He came to his own conclusion, good job kid.

“Scoops Ahoy.” Dustin throws the paper in front of him, as his head is in his hands. “Steve. Scoops Ahoy.”

“What?” He lifts his head, barely. Dustin stops for a minute, concerned.

“Guys, go to the pool, we’ll be out soon.” Everyone gathers up everything and heads to the patio. Dustin stays behind and eyes Steve once more who can barely make eye contact.

“Did you take your-”

“Yeah, just did-”

“How bad?”

“It’s going to be bad.” He takes a deep breath, still holding his head. Dustin nods. 

“Do you want me to-”

“No, let everyone stay ok, just get someone else to ride home. I’m gonna be down for like two-three days, ok?” He weakly looks up at him, and gives a reassuring grin and let out a sarcastic joke. “At least I’m not missing school this time.”

Dustin, grabs his shoulder. “Let me help you get upstairs, ok?” He nods and accepts the help.

“Money for a pizza is-”

“We can cover pizza, dude. I got my allowance today.” Dustin pulls the curtains over, trying to make it as dark as possible.

“Was it Mike?” Dustin looks ready to place blame.

“No, no dude, just this week in general, just stressful.” He manages to blurt out. “What were you saying? About a job… scooping?”

He lays in bed, rolling into his pillow.

“Scoops Ahoy. It’s an ice cream place opening up.” He finds his heavy duty medicine and pushes it into his palm, going to get him a glass of water. “It’s in the mall, the most we can bug you for is free ice cream and no constant popcorn smell.”

“Oh…” He takes the pill and a quick drink of water. “Yeah, ok, I’ll…I’ll-” 

“I’ll head to the mall this week and grab you an application.”

“Yeah… thanks.” Steve’s words slur and Dustin pulls his blanket over his head. He’s realized with a migraine that seems to be the preferred way Steve likes to sleep. 

Dustin debates sending everyone home, but he can hear them outback having fun. It’s basically summertime and he knows Steve would want them to enjoy the pool. He runs downstairs to grab the book he’s reading and heads back to Steve's room, occupying his floor to read, keeping a close eye on his friend.

“He’s just such a doofus sometimes, Steve.” A few days later Max is pacing around the patio as Steve tries his best to follow her train of thought. It’s such a weird time in life.

“Why don’t you like, hang out with El?” Maybe having a friend who’s a …superpowered girl might be good for Max. Hanging out with the boys all the time can probably be tiring even if she can handle them.

“Oh, you mean Eleven who is always with Mike and just ignores me! That Eleven, Steve?” He smirks slightly, he’s heard so far all summer Mike and Eleven have been strategically ditching everyone, Will feeling the most effective as Lucas is off with Max (when they’re not fighting), and Dustin’s off at Camp somewhere. 

“I don’t understand why she hates me so much.” She huffs taking a seat next to him. She pulls her red hair back into a ponytail and looks at Steve, letting herself show her upsetment.

“She just needs to get to know you, she’s had a tough life and all being raised in a lab and Mike is like her first-”

She lets out a grunt.

“I’ve barely even seen her give you a full sentence, Steve, even when we’re all here.” He lets out a laugh.

“Just… give her time.” He sits in the lounge enjoying the summer sun hitting his skin. It feels good for the soul. His soul. He’s starting that scooping job next week, it’s just for a summer. What’s the worst that can happen?

“So do I get free ice cream?” She rolls over on the chair, trying to get his attention. She’s got a big smile on her face. He enjoys these alone times with Max, she mostly complains about the boys and Lucas, but he likes being in her orbit as someone she needs and can talk to. She seems like a normal carefree tween having normal conversations about boys and things that piss her off.

“Yeah, sure. Free ice cream, kid.” 

“I’ve been working on my cannonball, I wanna drench Mike so badly. His stupid face. Lucas too. Dumbs boys.”

He lets out a laugh as she begins to show Steve her new approach which is sure to result in a huge splash.

The next day he’s not surprised at all to find Lucas in his kitchen, building them sandwiches. They really do just make themselves at home.

“So she’s all oh my god Lucas don’t answer for me, I dump your ass.” He slams the bread over the lunchmeat. “I just don't understand girls.” He lets out an exaggerated yell. “What do I do?”

Steve grabs a sandwich and takes a bite.

“Just give her space for a bit.” He says as he’s eating. “Give yourself something to like, get your energy out.”

“Get my energy out?”

“Yeah, you know, like swimming or something.” He takes another bite. “It is summer. Go to the pool.”

“And what? See Billy, yeah, no thanks.” 

He gestures to his own patio. “That’s open for you, dude.”

He grabs two sodas and they make their way outback.

“I’m not a great swimmer.” He takes a seat next to Steve on the patio, under an umbrella. They continue eating their lunch and admire the blue of the pool.

“I played basketball.” Steve mutters. “That’s a good one. Lots of energy to burn there. You’re probably a natural.”

Lucas looks up at him, confused.

“Why would I be a natural, Steve?”

“You’re tall.”

He shrugs.

“I played with my Dad from time to time but I was more into the AV club than sports, ya know?”

“No.” Steve laughs. He thinks of the times he enjoyed High School and most of it was being on the team sports. Being a co-captain. Offering leadership. “Look, let’s just play a little and see. Maybe it’s something you’ll enjoy for yourself. It’s ok to like other things besides what your friends like.”

“Oh dude, so I was thinking, when you start your job-”

“Yes, Sinclair, you’ll get free ice cream.”

Chapter Text

In my dreams, I see myself hitting a baseball

In a green field somewhere near a freeway

I'm all tan and smiling and running from third base

And it's hot and the kids keep on playing the driving game

And they're singing the same goddamn refrain

And the sky is a bluish grey

Why did he listen to Dustin? 

It’s an ice cream spot in the mall. 

Easy.

It’s not the movie theater.

No popcorn smell to trigger a migraine.

Yet before him lies a social liability.

On his bed, he’s laid out the absolutely horrendous uniform he’s expected to wear. 

Sure, he looks fine in blue but this cheeky sailor getup? 

Gag him with a spoon.

A hat. A mandatory hat. This stupid, white hat. 

If he didn’t already miss Dustin, he’d kill him.

He would pick another job.

He wouldn’t be looking like this this summer.

Alone in his house he lets out the loudest groan he can manage.

Is it too late to try to apply to the GAP?

But how would that benefit the kids… it wouldn’t. They don’t care about clothes.

Why does it matter so much to him if it benefits the kids!

Then he thinks of Dustin and Max and Lucas and even that dipshit Mike Wheeler and Beyer's brother, Will. 

He doubts El will be allowed to venture somewhere so public. Why is he letting them have such a big impact in his choice of employment? 

Steve paces in front of the uniform once more, linking his fingers behind his head. More groans. 

He’s unloaded a lot of his previous self this year: all the sports, not continuing any kind of education. 

Lost forever to Hawkins. 

Directionless, as his Father so politely would say. In fact, he just told him that yesterday. Steve can handle the phone calls, the berating echoes off the receiver during their conversations. 

It’s when they’re home, and he’s clearing up the glass as a reminder of the disappointment he is currently, that’s when it stings. The reality sets in. The realization that all he has right now is a nautical uniform for a minimum wage job, and in turn that makes him out to be some kind of lesser productive member of society.

Honestly, he has no idea how or why Hopper told him how anyone could see him as a role model to anyone. 

And it's become just like a chemical stress

Tracing the lines in my face for

Something more beautiful than is there

I've barely been gone

Before them are various made sundaes they offer. 

A landscape of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, rocky road and syrups. 

Rivers of syrups. 

Why are there so many cone types?

Waffle, sugar, dipped.

He’s trying to concentrate on all the information. 

Ice cream was supposed to be easy.

Candace stands before them, enthusiastically describing each sundae, each flavor and each policy. She’s too perky for this. For them.

Beside him is his expected co worker. She’s a bizarro version of Candace, or that’s how he’s sure Dustin would describe her. It was some Superman thing the kids were discussing at some point. Alternate versions of people or something. 

Where Candace looked excited about the job, or training them, his coworker looked bored, and from time to time would nervously shoot a look his way when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“Set sail with our USS Butterscotch…” next to him, he hears an audible groan from his coworker. He can’t help but smirk, letting out a soft laugh, feeling the same way. 

She shoots him a confused look, pushing her dirty blond hair behind her ear, crossing her arms further into herself and focusing back to the sundae.

A little while later their manager hands them both rings of keys.

“There’s keys to the fridge, the back door, the side door to the mall for our entrance, and the front gate, it rolls down, I’ll show you when your shift ends.”

Candace then turns around taking off her white hat and tossing it to the table, letting her brunette locks fall down, she shakes it out to add volume. She then grabs her duffle and heads to the back door. 

“And on that note. Good luck tonight, I’m heading to the movies, I’ll be back to help you close up at 9. Then- yeah, next week the shifts are all you guys.” She snaps the gum in her mouth, looks at the two of them, as neither responds to her and she takes that as her sign that they’re fine and skips out the back door.

“Well, that was some training.” Steve muses. He grabs a banana and peels it, popping it into his mouth.

“Maybe don’t dive right into eating the inventory?” She pushes past him to the front. No one’s in line presently but she mans the front, leaving him in the back to finish the fruit.

“It’s just a banana.” He says between bites. “Just a banana!”

He swallows.

She groans looking over the flavors in front of her in the case. She looks occupied looking over the inventory she’s suddenly so passionate about.

“We should probably bring up more birthday cake, and chocolate...” She doesn’t bring her eyes up to meet him as he joins her looking down at the case. He nods but doesn’t move. Robin gets annoyed.

“Hello, Steve? Birthday, chocolate cake?”

“Uh, yeah, right.” He shakes his head at her. “Birthday cake, ok. Yeah. I’ll grab it.”

“AND chocolate, Oh kay?” She releases an annoyed sigh and looks around the store as a whole, inspecting it.

The shift drags on, his coworker mainly shouting orders and tasks for him to do. He doesn’t mind, really. She picks up on how a place like this should run faster than he would. She continuously shoots him annoyed glances, muttering long sighs, and reminding him of various company policies. Stop eating the inventory.

It’s just about ten o'clock and Candace hasn’t returned to close them out. The draw and cash has been counted and they split the tips. The shift went faster than he anticipated, which is a good thing. It didn’t drag on and he couldn’t focus too much on how utterly ridiculous he looks. Steve hangs out the back door and raps his fist on the door a few times.

“It’s just a fence over the doorway, it can’t be that hard to pull down and lock. I’m just gonna do it and we can go.” She’s at the table, tapping her hands on the metal. “Steve? That ok?”

“I’m gonna check this out.” He mutters, his eyes still on the hallways.

“Check what out?” She inquires.

“The hallways, let’s go check it out. The mall’s empty, everyone else closed, let’s check it out. Starcourt After Dark.” 

“What are you looking to do, break into the Jazzercise studio, steal a hot dog on a stick?” 

“No.” He huffs at her. “Fine, you lock up the front and I’ll do this.”

“What? No way, I’m coming.” She stands up and follows him out of the door. “You have your keys right?”

“Yeah, totally.” Does he?

As they move through the white halls, he makes a note where the various stores are, but he has one goal in mind.

“Where’s the movie theater come in, you think?” He asks her, as she follows quietly behind him.

“Well, to start, it’s upstairs, so we have to find the stairs to get up there.” They pass the GAP, and he takes a minute looking at the sign. He shakes his head out of the possibilities and continues on. They find a fire escape door, and open it to steps ascending. 

“Ok, cool.” He bounds up the steps to the second floor, and they find the hallway for the stores before them. “Movies…” he thinks aloud. “What. way.” He looks both directions trying to recall the outline of the mall.

“It’s left, dingus.” He looks back at her and smirks. Her eyes slightly enlarge. They move forward towards his goal.

They find the door for the movies and he presses his ear to the door, listening for any people or movement. His coworker looks curiously on at him.

“It’s quiet, let’s go.” He opens the door and they push into the theater. Before them are several doors showing various movies. “Wanna see anything?”

“Are we… are you trying to sneak us into the movies?” She stops and looks at him. “Steve.” She seems annoyed,

“Yes…” Oh shit. He can’t think of her name, he blanks and looks at her face. She seems to catch on and points to her nametag as she irately finishes his thought for him.

“Robin.” Her lips are pierced and he can’t understand why she’s so bothered. He’s got other things on his mind right now. “I’m Robin, Steve.”

He steps back.

“I-I knew that, Robin.”

She crosses her arms and looks around the hall. 

“What are you looking to do, sneak in Tommy H and Carol and Nicole and Heather and Billy-” What the heck is she-

“No.” He’s taken back by her attitude, he’s immediately on the defense. Steve begins falling over the words coming out. “What are you even-I don’t even- I don’t hang out with them anymore. I just-” He looks at Robin who looks at him confused. “Whatever.” He concludes. It’s his turn to be annoyed now. He goes back into the hallways and starts heading towards where he thinks the stairs are to get back to Scoops Ahoy.

“Steve… it’s this way.” Robin’s voice is smaller, a bit more cautious. He wouldn’t describe it as concerning. He stops, pushing his hair back and looks at her and changes course, once again moving ahead of her and back towards their original location. 

She hangs a few steps behind him, nervously pulling at her bracelets.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I just thought, you know, you’re looking to sneaking into the movies you’d be sneaking in-”

“Friends?” He doesn’t turn back. “Yeah, well, we haven’t been friends for a while now- and like how would you-”

“I go to Hawkin’s High, Steve, I have eyes-”

“Then maybe you’d have noticed-”

“I’m sorry, Steve Harrington, I’m not obsessed over your every move, like who you’re dating, how you do your hair and who you’re hanging out with or not in this case, I actually do other things, have a multitude of interests and have hobbies-”

He begins to tune her out after she begins going on some tangent. His head doesn’t want to handle it. All he can see is the damn schedule on the board Steve/Robin over and over again. Why?

They lock the door, annoyed at one another. She doesn’t know anything about him, just like anyone else. 

In my dreams, I see you at the foot of some mountains

And we're taking some pictures or something

And we'd better hurry up

And it's late and the sun keeps on shooting through pine trees

And the grass stains are wet on your new jeans

And we'd better hurry up

The next day is busier for their shift and Robin and Steve have a decent flow going back and forth. Their communication is minimal but they seem to work well together regardless.

He’s in the back for his fifteen minute break when a boy and girl approach the register.

He’s a tall lanky, black boy and to his right is a freckled redhead. Their smiles are wide but awkward. She seems to take the lead as they look on at Robin. 

“Where’s Steve?” She immediately thrown. They’re looking for Steve, what are they 12?

“Steve?”

“Yeah, Steve.” She repeats.

“Sure…” She shouts to the back. “Hey, uh, Harrington?” 

He pulls open the door to the back, of course he has a banana in his hand.

“Sinclair! Max!” He actually seems happy seeing these tweens before him. He pops out and gives a nod to Robin. “Alright, come on.” He gestures for them to come in the back, Robin is now even more confused.

“Nice costume, Steve. Do you feel the call of the seas-”

“Quiet Mayfield or no movie.” He cuts her off, Robin can’t help but laugh. 

“Can we still get ice cream-” the boy cuts in.

“After the movie, you’re already gonna be late-” He rushes them out the door. 

“Hey, dingus, where are you-”

“I’ve got like seven more minutes, Robin. I’ll be really fast. I promise." He takes the kids to the back towards the hallway door and her mind wonders. The people he wants to sneak into the movies are some kids? 

Who the heck are these kids? 

Why is Steve showing them a way in?

Did he lose like a game to these kids and now has to sneak them in. Do they have something nefarious over him, making him do things like this? Her mind wonders as he’s gone the next five minutes. 

And I've become just like a terrible mess

Searching the lines in my face for

Something more beautiful than is there

The crowds keep me coming back, cheering

The rest of the shift is pretty expected. 

Some group of ten year old girls start bugging them for samples and Steve takes over for her, handling the young girls with a calm patience she didn’t know he had.

For her fifteen, she’s looking over sheets of music as he returns to the back with the mop.

“What’s that?” He asks, curiously. He grabs a banana. God, he’s eating all these damn bananas.

She removes her headphones and looks up at him.

“Sheet music?”

“To read?”

“I have to learn it for band.”

“You’re in band?”

“Yes. Trumpet.” She’s been in band for three years. Why would he notice? He didn’t even know her name or realize they went to the same school, or hey that she say behind him for a year, but she’s not going to bring that up. 

She plays French Horn and trumpet, but for this piece it’s trumpet. 

“Fourth of July celebration at Mayor Cline’s big carnival thing- which reminds me I have to request off for that, or work earlier in the day.”  

She finishes his banana and begins cleaning the mop bucket contents, getting a fresh bucket together to begin closing up.

“So, are you offering access to underaged kids to R rated movies? Taking like 2 bucks a head?” She asks, curiously.

“What?” He’s definitely confused by how she worded it. 

“The kids, with the movie?” She brings up.

“Oh, no. He’s trying to take her on a date. Just wanted to help.”

“To help?”

“What?”

“They’re kids.”

“Ok?” He begins mopping the break room and Robin isn’t sure how to proceed, so she might as well leave it.

In my dreams, I see you asleep on a twin bed

The covers pulled up over your head

Am I asleep or awake?

And it's morning and the captain is playing the radio

And he's just put the paint on his new boat

Am I asleep or awake?

He didn’t think he would be working all week with Robin. When he sees next week is the same, he’s slightly annoyed. Aren’t there any other people on the schedule? 

He misses Dustin.  At least he’d be able to complain about work and Robin to him.

Sneaking Max and Lucas in for their date was fun. He’s glad he can help them have more fun this summer, they deserve it. He’s not surprised to see them with Mike and Will the next afternoon looking for access to the movies as well. The four shrug as Robin looks off, mouth open. He knows she’s got questions.

“Are more children going to be showing up per day, Harrington?” She doesn’t even look up from her sheet music when sarcastically communicating with him. She’s playing with her fingers, like she’s holding an invisible trumpet in her hands.

“No, that should be the maximum amount of children, Robin.” He huffs, sitting down next to her, taking off his hat. “Actually, the most would be 6?” He counts them in his head again. He doubts El would come but he’s got to be prepared just in case.

“I thought you were a lifeguard.” She mutters to him, cocking an eyebrow at him. “But do you like babysit during the school year, when you’re not throwing parties-”

“I haven’t had a party, or gone to a party in months, Buckley.” What is her problem? “And yeah, I don’t babysit, perse-” He just protects them from interdimensional dogs, and dickhead brothers, “but they’re…cool? I guess. Just stop.”

“Sorry, I’ll stop asking about your children.” She throws her hand up. They heard a familiar voice behind the glass of the window heading to the front. He knows it’s Erica, Lucas’ little sister who comes to try all the flavors again. He looks at Robin as she immediately flinches, her eye twitching at the younger Sinclair’s voice booming into the back.

“I got it.” He jumps up and is back out front greeting the girl. “Baby Sinclair!”

“Sailor Man!” She greets. “I’m starting with Cookie Dough today.”

“Of course, little lady.” He dips a spoon down and hands it to her. In the back, through the small crack of the window he catches Robin looking at him, as though he’s a puzzle she’s trying to figure out. When their eyes lock she’s back to her sheet music, a red flush on her cheeks.

Because they’re updating their inventory counts they’re the last to leave the mall that night. He holds her backpack and helmut as she pulls the gate down in the front of the store, locking it up. They begin walking down the hallway, his hand still gripping her backpack and helmut as she pulls a raincoat on. They hear the sound of the rain drumming across the glass skylight of the roof and Robin lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t you have a raincoat?” She asks him.

“What? No.” He spits out, almost laughing.

“What? too cool for a hood, Harrington?” She jokes, trying to take her bag back, he swings it away from her, playfully.

“Ok, to your point- there are no cool looking rain coats!”

“It’s a coat, to keep your precious hair dry-”

“It looks good wet too.” He jokes.

The thunder booms through the empty space and they stop and look at one another.

“Maybe if you’re going to college somewhere warm and dry you’ll continue to not have to think about fashion forward ideals of a raincoat. Maybe Sting, or Boy George have good rain coat recommendations-”

“Boy George? Really.”

She shrugs.

“I’m not going to college, or a tech school or anything.” She stops, slightly frowning. She pulls her hands into her pockets.

“So this isn’t just a summer job-”

“Oh, no, it totally is. But for other reasons-”

“Your children?”

He laughs, throwing his head back.

“Yeah, actually. Otherwise I wouldn’t be wearing this, on purpose.” He grunts as he pushes his shirt further flat against him. “But I’ll try for something else, or find some direction after the summer. Find a way to be a proper and productive member of society, or so my Dad says. Then I won’t continue to be punished by working for minimum wage, in a mall, in this.” He tosses his hat in the air, catching it. She seems to sympathize and drops it.

They walk out the main doors, locking it behind them. The rain is pouring down and in the distance is his BMW, he looks as Robin begins to lock her helmut on her head.

“You’re not biking home in this?” She stops, looking at him.

“I missed the last bus, dingus.”

He looks at her as if she’s missing the obvious answer.

“Come on.” He finishes, beginning to run out into the parking lot.

“Come, where?” She shouts after him.

“I’m giving you a ride home!” He shouts back.

“What?”

“Come on, Robin. Let’s go!” He runs out to the car and pulls his wet hair back as he’s pulling his keys into the ignition to put the heat on. He looks out to see Robin making their way to his car. She pops into the passenger seat, pulling off her helmut.

“Thanks.” She says quietly. He nods, pulling out.

And it just feels good when you're waking up

And it just feels good when you're next to me

And it just feels good when you're coming home

And it just feels good when it's waking up

(My slumbering heart)

And I've become just like a chemical stress

Tracing the lines in my face for

Something more beautiful than is there

I've barely been gone

“Thanks,” Robin sits in silence, only giving him directions to her home. He has Toto on the radio playing, quietly singing to himself. She’s perplexed by his kindness, his connection to a random group of kids and his apparent situation regarding college and this job. Now their paths are crossed and according to the schedule, working with him and him alone until further notice. As much as she wants to put her preconceived notions about him to the side, the memories of his assholery ring clearly in her ears. 

She’ll be cautious, it’s not like they’re friends now because he drove her home.

And I'm not a failure, I swear

I wish you could see it from over there

I've got a lot over here without you

I've barely been gone

Gone, dreaming

Chapter Text

“That movie is Not Rated, Wheeler.”

He continues spraying and wiping off the table in the parlor of Scoops Ahoy. It’s 8:30pm, why is he here for something happening in a couple weeks. 

“Which means-“ he gestures his rag in the younger boy's direction. “You're not supposed to see it.”

“You missed a spot.” 

Steve looks up at the kid, annoyed. This cocky, little, asshole. 

Where are the other kids? He looks around and sees none of them. Not even baby Beyers.

Mike puts his hands down on the table, keeping an uncomfortable eye contact with him. Wheeler keeps his voice quiet but firm.

“Oh come on! We both know we’ve all lived through anything that’s worse than a Not-Rated Horror film, Steve!”

Mike has a brilliant idea that in two weeks Steve will be able to sneak the group of them into the movies to see the NR rated Day Of The Dead.

He’s just a movie machine and free ice cream guy for them now.

“Wheeler, you get caught in a movie your not allowed to see, without tickets in general and it gets back to anyone that it’s ME-“

“It won’t!” He perks up. “If we got caught- I’d hold the line, we all would! Come on, Steve!”

He keeps wiping the same table, keeping eye contact with Nancy’s brother. He already knows he’s going to cave.

“Come on! Please!” He begs the older boy. Steve throws his towel and spray bottle at him.

“Every. Table. Wheeler.”

He hears Mike cheer as he pops back into the back room. Frantic spraying starting. Robin’s busy in the freezer organizing the flavors alphabetically or by “how in demand they are,” or something. He's sure if she was out there he’d get some lecture about child labor statistics or some shit. Exploitation of the youth and where it’s really an issue or some bullshit like that? She gets too hyper about some subjects.

He enjoys the quiet for a miraculous minute.

He sighs thinking about how Dustin’s back in two weeks. 

He watched the Empire Strikes Back the other night, alone.

They created a pretty elaborate handshake before he left. They’d been building on it for a while. He wants to keep his moves fresh, and he just misses the kid.

Lucas has been popping over on Steve's days off, or mornings he’s working in the evenings.  They've been playing 1:1 games. As Steve thought, Lucas is a natural. It seems to have been helping with any relationship stress he’s been having with Max. He’s happy to report they haven’t fought in over two weeks, finally. He’s also scared to start high school in the fall. Steve gets that apprehension. He wants to tell him to join the basketball team, but he’s not sure how that sounds coming from a Hawkins High previous basketball Tiger and co-captain quitter.

You’re no role model, you scoop ice cream, and sneak kids into unrated movies. 

That’s your life.

He doesn’t mind the job, per se. He can tolerate Robin. 

It’s the data she’s collecting that gets under his skin. 

He looks at the whiteboard with her writing on it: YOU RULE/ YOU SUCK

Obviously, he sucks.

Why does he let her get under his skin? She’s constantly going on these nonsensical tangents he just can’t keep up with. Anecdotes about people and times he doesn’t know about. 

He leaves with a headache most nights just trying to listen.

If Steve’s honest, he’s waiting for another migraine to start. The stress of graduating and his Father’s commentary and finding a job and starting his job was his latest trigger, weeks ago. Thankfully, he found a rhythm and routine pretty fast, that seems to be what he needs to keep the pain at bay. Even if that routine includes Robin and her data.

That night there’s another storm and he’s pulled out of a nightmare by the thunder.

“You’re dead, Sinclair!” Billy’s voice echoes in his mind. 

Hargrove was attacking Lucas again. This time, he doesn’t stop him and Lucas is beaten as badly as he was last year. Head split open. Broken nose. He can only watch.

Max falls to the ground after being thrown against a wall trying to pull Billy off him.

Then the dogs come into the house and no one is spared.

He pulls his hand over his brow and behind his hair, he’s covered in a veil of sweat again. Stains mark his shirt. The air is on but he looks like he’s been running a marathon in the summer heat. He tries to calm his breathing and sees the clock is at 2:47am. It’s pouring out but he can’t be concerned with the weather right now.

Next to his bed, he sees the metallic glint accenting the wood of his bat.

He hears a loud howl outside.

He grips the bat immediately. 

He can’t stop his body from responding instinctively and running down the steps to his patio and pool area.

The wind blows, rain pouring on him and he’s immediately soaked to the bone but as alert as he can be.

The trees shake nearby, he gets into position. His nostrils flair wide as he waits for anything to fly at him.

Come on. Get me.

A raccoon jumps on top of the fence, wet and scared.

Harrington lowers his bat, releasing a deep breath he didn’t recognize he was holding.

He falls back into a lounge chair. The water continues to fall over him, clinging his clothes to his skin.

It’s happening more.

Dreams bleeding into his waking- middle of the night- life and any noise spooking him back out here. 

Sleeping with the nail bat nearby.

He considers calling Hopper. Just for someone to relate to, that's not 13, or that he didn’t see just get pulverized in a dream.

But he’s probably busy.

“You ok, Steve?” Max is in his living room the following morning, board in hand. “I can take the bus if you don’t wanna drive me.”

“I don’t mind, Max.” He’s driving her to the Arcade.

“Thanks, Billy is working all day.” She catches herself. “Sorry.”

He looks at her pouring more coffee in his cup.

“What?”

“I just know that’s what you’d be-“

“I’m fine doing what I’m doing, Max.”

“Oh yeah, because all year you dreamed about a job where you can sneak a group of us into the movies and scoop ice cream to.” She crosses her arms.

“It is, Max. It’s exactly what I want.” He somehow pulls out the sentence and knows exactly how it sounds. The tone he used wasn’t exactly… perky.

Max lets out a laugh.

“Mike told me you’re gonna sneak us into Day of the Dead?”

“As long as I don’t kill him first.”

“He said you made him all the clean tables-“

“And you’ll all be subject to the same-“ he’s suddenly brought back to his dream, watching her fall off the wall, to the floor, still.

She doesn’t seem to notice any change in him because she laughs and rushes him for a hug.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He pulls her further into the hug. He’s a softy. A big Mr. Softy.

It’s a subtly gnawing ache behind his eye as usual. He takes his first pill in hopes it’ll help and be enough for his shift.

It’s a Saturday. It’s going to be busy. It’s him and Robin.

It’s always him and Robin.

Shit. 

He gets there and it hasn’t gotten worse but he feels it’s still there. 

He can make it for a nine hour shift. He has to. 

His other “in case of emergency” pill hangs in his pocket. He can’t drive if he takes it. What’s he’s expected to do? Take the bus?

He lets it burn in his pocket instead. If it gets unbearable he’ll take it and deal with getting home later.

“Hey Dingus- I need more vanilla and butter pecan and we need bananas, if there’s any you haven’t eaten yet- and more of like all three- syrups- HEY DINGUS!” She’s in the front window now, pissed and worn thin. He can see it’s swamped and he knows he's been staring at a light for at least two minutes zoning her out. 

“Right. Right. Sorry.” He’s sluggish and trying to pull himself off the chair, he nearly trips.

“Hangover from a raging party? Oh well! You still have to work, Harrington!” She grunts and slams the windows together. He can hear her make a general announcement to the front.

He gets what she needs as she continues to call it out, he’s filling up containers and cones and syrups as she makes the orders one after another. When she speaks she sounds under water, which is probably a good thing since he’s pretty sure she’s yelling.

He feels his stomach turn, he forgot to eat. The aching starts behind his eye again even more. He’s got four more hours. He can handle it. If he can just take a couple minutes. He’s successfully swallowed the vile.

The noises begin to swirl in his mind, carnival sounds and popular hits mixing into one, there’s laughter and foreign conversions that sound like it's in other languages.. He grabs his head as he begins to feel the red hot spike submerge into his skull. Take the pill, take the bus home later. Get over it.

Shit.

The main event.

He grips the other pill in his hand but as Robin throws open the windows, he’s caught off guard and drops the pill, he watches as it immediately finds its way to the drain.

Fuck me.

“I SWEAR TO GOD HARRINGTON, ALL DAY- I SWEAR- YOU'RE JUST LIKE HOW CAN I MAKE ROBIN’S SHIFT UNBAREABLE! HEY! HARR-“ he hears her stop, suddenly. He can’t look up at her, he’s against a wall trying to grip it in the corner, his other hand on his head, pressing his eye in. He has to be swaying because he hears the saloon doors swing wide and she’s immediately in front of him, grasping his shoulders.

“Hey, Steve? Are you-shit? Let’s sit down, ok?”

She guides him to a seat and looks outside, there’s still a line. She huffs and taps on the table.

“I just need a minute.” He manages to get out.

“Ok, ok.” She begins to talk to herself. “Stay here,” she continues. “Ok, I got this.”

She’s back out and front and within five minutes she’s cleared the store and brought down the gate, locking it. It’s definitely not closing time but she’s made an executive decision. She lowers the lights in the break room and opens the freezer.

He lays with his head against his arms on the table. The cool air hitting his back and neck helps.

He looks up at her, his face- red, pained, eyes glazed over, she gives him a small reassuring smirk.

“It’s only ice cream.” She grabs his arm, and she slowly rubs it, reassuring him. “So, not a hangover?”

He shakes his head no with a moan. “Migraines?” She guesses.

“I read with migraines-“

Oh my god she’s gonna start again. He can’t handle a speech or story right now.

“Robin, please, don’t. I can’t-“

“Ok, ok. So no migraine tangent featuring a wealth of information from Robin. Do you have any medicine you can take?”

He nods and pulls his head up to look at her, a small neon light from the mall illuminating them in the back room. Her blue eyes look intently at him, he likes her eyes.

“I dropped the good pill down the drain.” He mumbles, putting his head back down.

“Go home, Steve.” Her voice is soft and compassionate, she looks at the whiteboard, lowering her voice to a playful tone. “Sadly, I can’t count any of the data from today. It wouldn’t be fair. I’ll be sure to adjust it accordingly.”

“Wow, thanks, Robin.” Sarcasm drips as he tries to handle the pain.

“Can I call anyone for you? Your Mom? Dad? Great uncle twice removed? Dog walker? Aunt’s friend who's been living with her for ten years but they’re totally just friends?”

He looks at her curiously, why is she like this? He’s trying to blink away the spots in his eyes. “No. I’ll be fine.”

“You clearly are not fine, Steve. You need a ride home.”

“Ok. Fine.”

He pushes a number to her from his wallet. It’s Hopper.

“You want me to call Chief Hopper for you? The police?” She throws it back to him. “You have a weird sense of humor, dingus, you know that? Fine! Ok! Fine, drive yourself home! I don’t care!”

He wasn’t joking but he’s not going to tell her that. 

He’s going to close his eyes while the world begins to spin.

He doesn’t even realize he fully fell asleep until he’s feeling the drool slide down his arm sometime later. Steve’s disoriented as he fully wakes up but his head feels manageable now and he tries to blink his eyes back into focus in the darkened room.

In front of him, head on her hands is Robin, not so softly snoring. 

He pulls his hand to his neck and looks around, everything looks cleaned and locked up. He looks at the clock behind him: 1:32am.

He shakes her shoulder and she jolts awake:

“No, I’m not Ally Sheedy!” They stare at one another for a minute. He begins whispering for them to head out.

“It’s after midnight, come on. I’ll get you home-“

“Are you- how are you?” She whispers back.

“I’m good enough to go.” He whispers back. “Come on.” They gather their things and head out the back door through the back.

She falls asleep in the passenger side on the way home but he remembers the way to her house.

“You’re home, Robin.”

She looks up at the house, lights dark.

She looks back at Steve who still looks sick. She nods at him groggily and gets her bag up from her feet.

“You should call in sick tomorrow.” She doesn’t make eye contact with him, she lets out a loud yawn. “Let someone else take orders from me for a change.”

“1- it’s Sunday and we’re already off. 2- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone else, Buckley.” He laughs. He takes a pause. “It’ll be fine. I’ll sleep all day tomorrow and Monday and be a new man come Tuesday.”

“Fine but if it happens -next time I will call Chief Hopper and it won’t be a joke, Steve.” She’s stern, and he nods without her knowing that’s exactly what she should do.

He gets home at 2:15am. The house is dark, unassuming. No one would ever know it was the scene of a murder. Weak nights like this settle into his mind easily. Sulking isn’t his thing, but he focuses on the bullshit of it all. 

He walks into his kitchen seeing the outline of the pool once more. Gentle and calm. For a split second it begins to bleed red in his vision dropping into the pool. 

The waves lap higher and higher against the sides and the colored spots bloom until the whole liquid inside is red and deep, waiting to swallow him whole.

He backs away from the patio windows, looking for a pill from the cabinet. Migraines can make you hallucinate. He swallows the pill dry and makes it to the sofa, collapsing in his uniform. His head numbs from the medicine quickly and he shuts his eyes once more. At least he’s off.

Chapter Text

There is lambswool under my naked feet

The wool is soft and warm

Gives off some kind of heat

A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed

Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid

The fleas cling to the golden fleece

Hoping they'll find peace

Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid

There's no hiding in my memory

There's no room to void

Robin biked that Monday to the Starcourt Mall, in her walkman “Carpet Crawler’s” by Genesis echoing in her mind. She’s only hoping to pop in and out of Scoops Ahoy, she forgot her paycheck Saturday in the middle of the rush and Steve’s migraine. She strolls through the entrance. It’s bustling already even at 10:30am. She holds her helmut on her arm, jogging down the steps to the food court locating her place of employment. Toby is outside manning the counter, Petey the mall cop talking his ear off already. She gives a quick wave to them as she makes her way to the back.

The crawlers cover the floor in the red-ochre corridor

For my second sight of people, they've more lifeblood than before

They're moving in time to a heavy wooden door

Where the needle's eye is winking, closing in on the poor

Candace and Jessica are there, the shift manager obviously working on the schedule for the first week of July, which includes the Fourth of July. Robin quickly grabs the envelope with her name on it, seeing that Steve's is still there as well. She eyes it for a minute, he probably doesn’t need it like she does. What is she going to do? Bike it to his house? She has no idea where he lives. 

Pulling her backpack over her chest, she unzips a pouch and pushes the envelope inside. She waves to the girls, still deep in her music and enjoying Peter Gabriel’s impact on Genesis. She vaguely hears her name being called.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:

"We've got to get in to get out

We've got to get in to get out

We've got to get in, to get out."

“Robin?”

“Robin!” She sees Candance motioning for her to take off her headphones.

“Oh, sorry.” She’s slightly embarrassed, Jessica’s hair looks nice today. She gives her a small smile and waves along with Candance.

“Ok Robin, I’m working on next week’s schedule, and since you need off for the fourth, and Toby’s back from vacation I’m just putting you on mornings all week, ok?”

Buckley lets out a sarcastic laugh and an audible moan.

“Great, now I can hear all week how Steve’s not a morning person.”

“Steve’s still closing all week.” Candace doesn’t look up from the schedule she’s penciling in. Across the top of the July calendar she sees Jessica/Steve written in succession. Seeing it makes Robin uncomfortable and she’s not sure why.

“Thought you guys might want to mix it up.”

“You know what, I uh, can’t work mornings, band rehearsal, I have to close.” She actually doesn’t and she doesn’t know why she’s saying this. Maybe working with Steve is just routine and comfortable now. She can mess with him. It’s fun for her in that way and only that way.

Candace starts erasing her name and begins writing Steve’s and Robin can feel herself start again before she can think it through, her voice starts going, words mindlessly falling out-

“Steve can’t do mornings.”

Candace’s head snaps up curiously now, Robin feels her and Jessica’s eyes starting to burn into her. Does she look nervous, she’s nervous now, she bets she looks nervous. Jessica pulls her gum out, snapping it back into her mouth in a curious motion.

“He… can’t?” She asks with pursed lips, like she doesn’t believe her.

“No, he uh, babysits. Like way too many kids. They sometimes come in, employee discounts and all…” It’s not too far from the truth.

“Oh my god, Candy, he’s good with kids.” Jessica’s arm hits Candace and they both give a small thoughtful smile and longing sigh. 

Robin just about rolls her eyes. 

The fucking Steve Harrington effect.

Why does she want to work with Steve, the two girls are looking for some answer, she can tell. Internally, Robin is beginning to freak out. 

“Look, it’s just- we just work well together, we have a good system.”

Both ladies' heads quirk back to her, exchanging looks between one another, then staring her down, looking almost excited.

“A… good… system, Robin?”

She really hates girls.

“OH MY GOD ROBIN! Are you two-“

“I honestly didn’t think you were his type-“

The excitement the girls feel is oddly palpable. 

Oh no- girl talk. Wrong impressions. Robin, you don't do girl talk, shut it down!

“I’m not! We’re not! ew! NO! I am just saying we know how to work together so the store doesn’t go to shit within a nine hour time frame!” 

Her breathing is pained as she darts her eyes between the other ladies in the room, she feels the blush that has to currently be evident on her cheeks, releasing heat on her face.

“WOW, you’ve got it bad.” Jessica mumbles and sits down looking to begin another conversation with Candace. They give one another a look, and Candace looks back at Robin, who looks about ready to pass out.

“Ok, ok- you and Steve next week, again. But I need you both Sunday then.”

“Yeah, ok, fine.” Robin mumbles and begins to retreat, getting out of that shop as fast as she humanly can.

There's only one direction in the faces that I see

It's upward to the ceiling, where the chamber's said to be

Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree

They are pulled up by the magnet, believing they're free

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:

"We've got to get in to get out

We've got to get in to get out

We've got to get in, to get out."

She bikes back home the whole time letting Harrington occupy her mind. 

Why is he such an enigma?

She recalls the douchebag extraordinaire she had a class with freshman year. He was annoying, and obnoxious and way too carefree and thought he was hilarious-he wasn’t. And oh my god how she witnessed any girl who had legs just foam at the mouth for any interaction with him. How idiotic it made everyone in his space. Red faces of embarrassment if he asked you a question. 

Robin never fell for it. To her, he was some stupid, rich kid, who parties way too much but was young enough to still be in every athletic sport he decided and to excel in, however far that gets you in Hawkins, Indiana. 

But she’s learned things about Steve these past few weeks:

He’s graduated with nothing, no career accelerator usually found with rich kids like him.

He apparently gets nasty migraines now?

There’s something with these damn kids who keep showing up.

Two are apparently the siblings of his ex and her current boyfriend.

He also learned not to call Jonathan Beyer’s brother, Zombie Boy real fast. Steve’s like weirdly sensitive about it.

Last week, when the four kids showed up for icecream, it was the first time Robin had placed how she knew the younger Beyer’s face. When they left she leaned over to Steve as he rinsed his scooper, she eyes how the register still showed a sale of $0.00

“Isn't that the Beyer’s kid, I’ve heard people call him zombie boy or something? I had classes with Jonathan that year-”

“Don’t call him that.” His eyes and tone were immediately defensive. 

She felt equally defensive in her reaction.

“I mean, it’s just what actually happened and how does someone get declared dead, have a funeral and then all of a sudden-”

“Hey, Robin. No.” She heard his scooper slam against the metal bucket. A frustrated and annoyed groan escapes him as he shakes his head NO.  

It was a simple request in minimal words. 

When she looks at him, his eyes hold a seriousness she dared not to question. She had never seen that look on him before. It felt deeply personal. She holds her hands up in defeat, immediately dropping the subject. 

She watches his eyes follow the four out of the parlor, scanning their surroundings as they go about laughing with their ice cream. 

He’s been nothing but kind to her since their first day, he lets her boss him around, and essentially lets her make fun of him. He just lets her, and he’ll still drive her home if it's raining.

While he might strike out at the counter of Scoops Ahoy, it’s still clear he’s got something women still find attractive given how Candance and Jessica just acted. I guess the public knowledge that you're from a rich family can make anyone marginally more attractive, even in short, cobalt nautical attire. 

He’s still an idiot. 

At the first chance or given the right moment of insecurity, Robin is so sure he’d revert back to that default douchebag setting.

One day she’s sure she’ll come in and the Harrington system will have rebooted. 

She reminds herself then and there: he’s not your friend. He’s still your enemy. 

And yet even with this inherent knowledge, she just spent a good fifteen minutes orchestrating a Scoops Ahoy schedule where she continues to work with him every shift over the next two weeks.

Something has to be wrong with her.

Mild-mannered supermen are held in kryptonite

And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing bright

Through the door, a harvest feast is lit by candlelight

It's the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight

The carpet crawlers heed their callers:

"We've got to get in to get out

We've got to get in to get out

We've got to get in, to get out."

Tuesday comes and she glides in, she can see he’s already there and is surprised to notice he must have been filling up the needed inventory in the display case. Cones are stocked, spoons full, each table clean, napkins filled out, everything is actually perfect. 

He’s currently mopping the tile behind the counter. 

She feels a small tug at her heart, and she’s not sure why.

“Looking to get Employee of the Month, dingus?” She smirks at him as she jumps over the wet spot on the floor, falling through the door into the back. She’s not very graceful, and nearly falls on her face. He laughs at her and follows her back, first making sure no one else is in the store.

“Well, given how you basically worked by yourself Saturday, I-”

“I didn’t.” She puts her helmet in her locker, twisting back to him. “Steve, you-”

“Just thanks, Robin.” He gives her a genuine grin, “Figured if I can try to make today run more smoothly, it would, you know, help.” He leans on the mop for a minute, searching her expression. This must be how he gets to everyone, diving into his brown eyes. She twists her head away from him. Suckers.

“Well, I guess you should keep it up, we’re working together the next two weeks at least, Harrington.”

“Again? Jeeze. Does no one else want to work with us?” He eyes the schedule, Robin hopes he doesn’t see her face redden.

“No idea.” It can barely come out.

“Well, that’s ok. I don’t think I could get used to someone else bossing me around anyway.” He throws an arm on her shoulder, like she’s some kind of buddy of his.

“Plus, my research is very important.” She responds, but still won’t look at him, she hears a slight “ha-ha” as he releases her shoulder. She then hears a familiar pluck.

“You and the damn bananas!”

“What? I’m hungry?” He says in the middle of a bite.

“The inventory!” She grunts. “If I start getting charged-”

“It’s a frickin’ banana, Robin-” His mouth is full and it infuriates her.

“Oh my god, Steve, PLEASE -swallow the damn food before you talk!” He mocks a response to her, and they continue their shift.

Steve looks lost in his own world during his fifteen minute break. There’s usually a lag after the 8:15 movies begin, allowing them time to take turns getting their fifteen after their most expected and heavy rush. He’s slightly drumming his fingers across the table, his mouth turned down but not exactly emoting a frown. She’s so invested in his daydreaming she doesn't even see someone has come to the counter until a voice snaps both her and Steve out of it. She watches his eyes go wide, locking with Robin’s. She’s curious why until she turns around and is greeted by Jonathan Beyers, Nancy Wheeler and a blonde child standing at the counter.

“Hello?” Her voice is sweet, if a little annoyed. They’re both dressed in what has to be professional work attire. Her lips form a thin smile as Robin walks over to the group.

“Hey, sorry. Uhm, what can I get you?” She watches as Jonathan and the blonde child eye the flavors and Nancy seems to look over the menu, but also darting her eyes around the establishment as a whole.

“Can I try the mint chocolate chip?” The blonde pipes up almost immediately. Robin gets a sample going. She immediately nods.

“Cone?” Robin asks.

“That’s fine, Holly.” Nancy answers for her. “Kids size, for obvious reasons.”

“Hey,” Jonathan smiles politely at her, she nods in response, awaiting his order. “Cookies and Cream on a cone, please. Two scoops.” He holds up two fingers to emphasize the two, she hates when customers think she can’t hear them and they resort to physical reminders. She didn’t take Jonathan to be the type, but Nancy probably. She’s not sure if either of them even recognize her from school. They don’t interact much, but she has had Jonathan in homeroom for a few years sitting behind him or near him: Beyes, Buckley. 

“Only you working?” Wheeler asks, is that nervousness in her voice?

Robin looks back at the door, but before she can answer, Nancy must have ditched her question and begins to order:

“Just a sundae, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate syrup, thank you.”

“Whipped cream and cherry?” Robin deadpans, no emotion.

“Sure.” She agrees.

“Wait, are we eating it here?” Jonathan leans over to her.

“Why not?” She asks. She pats Holly on the head. “We don’t want Holly to get it all over the car.”

She drowns out the rest of their conversation as she gets their order together as fast as possible and puts it in front of them. She gives a small, awkward smile as she walks back to the counter. It’s still dead, and she knows his break should be over.

She peaks into the backroom and gives Steve a look, that’s telepathically saying: hey do you want to see your ex girlfriend, her boyfriend and her sister? 

She knows he heard them and he’s very much nodding a no to her, motioning to his uniform.

“Just don’t make a big deal about it, Harrington!” She harshly whispers to him. 

She pulls the door closed behind her. 

“She’s like looking all over, probably for you, I think she knows you're supposed to be working, Steve. -Maybe she wants a free movie!"

“Shut up, Robin! She doesn’t!” They’re still whispering while bickering.

He groans and bangs his head against the table a few times. She slowly moves over the table, still keeping her voice low.

“It won’t be that bad.” She tries to cheer him on, giving him a small smile.

“I can see you adding another strike on the YOU SUCK side after this.”

“You’re probably not wrong about that.” 

He lets out another groan and leans back in the chair as far as he can.

“It’s just a uniform.” He begins to pep himself up, a little pep talk from Steve to Steve.

“-Just a uniform.” She joins in.

“Alright, ok.” He bobs his head up and down and then stops again, looking himself over. “I should have worked at the Gap-” he mumbles, and she cuts him off before he can continue.

“-And miss these memories?!”

He grunts at her as he stands up. He seems ready to move forward with an interaction now. She gives a fake cheer as he walks past her, much to his own look of dread.

She opens the door, back to the store, but as she looks over to the tables, every seat is empty.

“Looks like you missed your window.” Robin muses as he peaks outside and they both see they’ve gone.

“We bickered too long.” He laughs as he says it, leaning his weight against the door, fully opening it up. She hangs over the counter, glancing back at him. He looks like he’s ready to get lost in his thoughts again.

“This definitely counts for the You Suck side.”

“Oh, hey-NO WAY! This doesn’t count!”

“You wouldn’t even come out the door, dingus! Complete suckery!”

She runs back into the back room, past him, determined- grabbing the dry erase marker as fast as she can before he does. She’s determined while opening the cap and drawing a long line down. She doesn’t even hear the soft, akward voice that has called his attention away from the backroom and in front of the counter.

“SUCK! YOU SUCK!” She was sure he’d laugh, but then she sees the door is swinging rapidly and he isn’t following behind her, continuing their banter.

As the door opens and closes in a rhythmic dance she sees he’s at the counter talking to Nancy and Holly, giving napkins to the younger, squatting by her and wiping the ice cream trail off her arm. Nancy’s eyes are on him, a genuine smile pulling at her face as she’s laughing with him about something.

“It’s obviously part of my audition to be in the Village People, Nance.” Ok, that was actually a good line, dingus.

She stays in the back and tries not to eavesdrop, but she can’t help it. The conversation lasts 3- maybe 4 minutes. She’s confirming he’s been sneaking the kids into the movies, and thanks him for looking out for her brother and his friends. She asks how he’s feeling, not directly asking about migraines but Robin has a hunch. For being exes they’re still very much in a rhythm with one another. She watches as Nancy gently sways listening to Steve talk, eyes focused intently on him, a smile never leaving her face. She seems to be talking about her job, letting out a couple general frustrations, looking away bashfully as he appears to be giving her a pep talk about it. She pushes her hair behind her ear and nods as he speaks, eventually thanking him.

Robin looks back at the board, and taking her index finger against the surface, she moves it over the last line she drew, erasing it. 

You get a reprieve tonight, dingus, but only tonight.

Chapter Text

It’s Friday, June 28, 1985 and the mall is a mess of chaos by 5pm. The morning shift made a complete mess of the breakroom, freezer and front. Robin and Steve were doing double duty trying to maintain standards while tending to their customers. Both were annoyed early on. Robin settled on handling the front of the house business, running through orders in a method she’s perfected. Steve was in the back re-organzing the freezer and cleaning up the mess in the breakroom, fucking Toby dropped a melted chocolate and it’s everywhere. Any moron can do this job, why can’t Toby?

She just about finishes a rush and she’s getting ready to get her notepad ready for refilling the display case when she hears the ring of the bell.  She immediately want to scream internally before turning around- she’s is physically right there what asshole feels the need to-

Of course. This fucking kid. Wheeler.

“Hey Dingus, your children are here!”

He opens the window annoyed, he eyes Mike Wheeler and now Robin knows he internally wants to slap the smug look off his face as well. She catches his expression soften after seeing the other three, Will giving him a smile in return.

“Let’s go!”  He grunts as he lets them in the back. 

A minute later Steve's back in the front of the store with Robin together, finally enjoying a minute of a lag.

“What movie are they seeing today, Mom?” She jokes, she hears him sigh internally.

“Day of the Dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I was mistaken- so you’re the fun uncle who sneaks the kids into not-rated adult flicks? What’s next, spotting the keg for their rager in the woods?”

“No- but trust me. They can handle the movie, Robin.” He begins to make his way back to the freezer.

“Think it’s going to be like this all weekend?” She shouts back to him, moaning slightly.

“Oh, definitely.” Is the only reply he can muster as his voice fades further towards the back of the store.

That night he’s blaring Dance Hall Days by Wang Chung and she even dances a bit as they mop their respective areas.

“Any big Fourth of July plans? Besides, I guess, working with me all week.” He asks.

She laughs.

“The carnival, only to play though.” She offers, making fake trumpet sounds with her mouth and fingers. “You?”

“My friend is coming back sometime this weekend, I’ll probably hear about his trip.”

“Is it another child?” She asks, lightheartedly, and he gives her a “har har,” which isn’t exactly an answer.

It’s not until two days later when she's at the front desk that she’s met with one of the most unique and heartwarming smiles she’s ever seen that she sees she was right. In all their weeks working together she’s never seen Steve fly out of the saloon doors so fast and show this amount of excitement before.

“He’s back!” He jumps, she’s thrown back once more, he’s jumping? She notes the loudness of his voice. “He’s back!” 

Is she supposed to care? Apparently.

She’s amused as they break out this elaborate handshake that is somehow also a Jedi fight? Oh my god, he has a favorite child and it’s definitely this curly haired kid. She could have sworn it was the redheaded girl.

“How many children are you friends with?” Is the only question of oh so many that has escaped her lips at that moment. 

That might have just been the cutest display of genuine affection she’d ever seen, and it was orchestrated by none other than Steve Harrington. 

He shoots her a look, bringing his enthusiasm down a couple notches.

She laughs it off internally as she makes her way to the back, but as she retreats she can hear Steve tell him he can have anything he wants and he’ll take his break right then and there.

She had no idea that within 24 hours her whole life would begin to radically change, beginning a path she won't be able to avoid thanks to this kid, all because she insisted she continue to work with Steve Harrington.

She’ll laugh to herself at first as she’s now fully invested, wholly invested in trying to figure out a translation of this Russian transmission this child intercepted.

It’ll start small, a small translation, a fun hobby for Robin. She loves this stuff.

Then it’ll be Steve linking the Indiana Flyer song to the background of the transmission. It’s coming from inside the mall.

Maybe they could have stopped there. 

Maybe then the events wouldn’t transpire like they did. But they won’t and they’ll stay late after hours at Starcourt Mall staking out the delivery hub in the rain. He still doesn’t have a raincoat. 

She won’t show fear when they accidentally make a sound on the roof. It’s seeing the large guards with guns manning the back doors of the mall that freaks her out momentarily. Grabbing Harrington’s hand wasn’t a fearful reflex, she just wanted to be sure he kept his big head down. She lets him take the lead, quickly ushering them off the roof.

She notices a protective quality hiding in his eyes as he watches Dustin and her during their investigations. 

He just apparently can’t win a fight.

Steve begins driving her and Dustin home the next couple of nights, and picking them up for their shift each day since she “joined their cause” Monday. Her bike’s been chained to the mall’s bike rack ever since. 

It’s just conspiracy stuff, they’re not friends. This is important for the good of America.

Then they involve Erica.

Sometime in between they joke about getting Dustin a uniform.

She runs through it one more time in her mind, how she got here. Here being a secret Russian elevator miles below the Starcourt Mall in Hawkins, Indiana.

She got herself into this. 

First, by insisting she and Steve work together all week. What a mind fart moment that was in hindsight.

He could be here with Jessica, he’d probably prefer that. 

Their initial panic begins to settle as the four realize they’re stuck in the elevator for the time being.

“It’s like 1am, you and Erica go to sleep. I’ll keep watch, ok? Let me just think for a bit.” He’s talking to the kids, trying to sound strong, like he can handle this. 

He’s rather convincing.

“Steve-” Well, if it isn’t you die, I die himself. Personally, she’d like to live. 

Erica is tangenting worse than she can at the moment. 

Robin is trying to calm her own panic. Steve looks over briefly to see her holding herself and puts his hands back on the shoulders of both kids.

“Sleep, you two. Now. Ok?” Erica takes her backpack off, and uses it as a pillow, Dustin tries to object but Steve shuts it down with a quiet action. He takes the spot next to Erica and the two close their eyes. Somehow within what has to be minutes she can hear their soft snoring.

He comes into her view, looking her over. Her hands tremble in front of her as she tries to follow anything Steve is saying. Like a radio signal finally tuning in she can hear him: 

“Robin. Hey, come on.” He’s whispering and pulling her further to the corner of the elevator.

“Steve, we’re in a secret Russian elevator.” She lets a shattered breath out, “with children.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looks around once more. “I know. But hey it’s gonna be ok, ok?” He tries to reassure her but there is no way to convince her right now it’s going to be ok.

“So talk to me about the elevator again.” It’s like he knows letting her talk will calm her down.

“We need a keycard, that’s what controls it.” 

“Ok, so if they need a keycard to do anything, why do you think it locked us in and dropped us down without one?”

That’s a good question, dingus.

“It must be timed. Each night it locks at a certain time and deposits the contents and in this case- people and children-  below.”

He nods, and looks at her. 

“We’ve been down here over an hour and no one has come to get anything or find us-“

“Morning. They’ll probably have a morning shift and probably come and take the boxes.” Lightbulb.

“Ok, so we just have to be ready for that. Ok good, good. We’ll keep our ears open until we hear anything and then-“ he looks at the roof hatch. “We have to all get up there as fast as humanly possible and stay quiet.”

“And Dustin’s walkie-“

“Nothing, we’re too deep underground.” He rubs his stomach. “Fuck, I’m hungry.”

“I forgot to pack your usual bunch of bananas.” She jests.

“They would be really handy right now.” He grins at her, the anxious tension starting to diffuse. 

“I also didn’t think we would be in a secret Russian elevator for the foreseeable future.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He’s now leaning against some boxes with his hands pulling his knees to him. She mimics the seated position across from him.

“You don’t get to take credit for that, Harrington. I joined this mission all on my own.” She picks at a bandaid on her knee. “Kind of regretting it, to be honest. It was just supposed to be some light Russian translation, a little Russian spy craft. Not like, for real. Actual danger. Where I could die.” She looks up and allows herself to look into his eyes this time, they are now most likely in a life and death situation. His eyes are warm, focused and locked into hers.

“Yeah that’s Dustin for you.” He runs a hand through his hair. As usual. 

“Oh, he gets you into conspiratorially suspicious adventures regularly?” 

He laughs nervously and doesn’t say no instead offering the following.

“Kids get into some weird shit some days.”

“Oh obviously, Steve, just last week I was on a CIA hit list because I once found a secret conspiracy against new Coke- about their flavor and I wanted to expose it!- this is all normal!”

He laughs but keeps quiet. She continues-

“I never thought my Clue death would be: it was Colonel Mustard, in the secret Russian elevator, with the mysterious green liquid.”

“Steve, killed by Dustin- falling on him trying to get him out of the roof hatch, in a secret Russian elevator.”

“Steve, killed by Robin, by non-stop talking, in a secret Russian elevator.”

“Steve, killed by Robin, by being a complete dingus, in a secret Russian elevator.” 

“Steve and Robin dead, by suicide pact because they’re wearing stupidly unflattering matching sailor costumes, in a secret Russian elevator.” She finally finishes. They laugh, and she feels some of the tension in her body finally release. 

He’s making her feel somewhat safe. He looks at the kids as Dustin snores louder and turns back to Robin.

“Get some sleep, ok?” He tells her, eyes boring into her, kindly.

“Not how my mind works, Harrington.” She groans, looking around and points to her head. “This thing never stops.” 

He smirks and she reciprocates the look.

“Must be in overdrive right now.”

“Definitely.” 

“Well, pour out your ideas, Buckley. Keep talking.” She stares at her sneakers and the doodles she has on them, no one’s ever willingly asked her to keep talking before. 

She’s also never been in these kind of dire situations before. 

She looks back into Steve’s kind eyes.

“Well, that green stuff has to be why we’re down here. It’s at least part, if not why we’re down here. It’s not shoes or Chinese food or whatever else they disguised it as-“

“But those stores were real too, Robin.” 

She stops.

“Right, so they know the stores of the mall, but their shipments are different… ok. They’re either packaged slightly differently or there’s two different kinds of boxes for each of those stores.”

“But why do that?”

“Appearances . It’s a good system, us geniuses just figured it out.” She begins picking at her nails. Her nail polish is chipped, if she dies this is how they’d find her, if they find her.

What are her parents even going to think if she doesn’t come home tonight? Looking around she knows. She likely isn’t coming home tonight or ever.

She looks at Steve.

“How soon until your parents start to freak out? It’s like 3:30am.”

“They’re away, so they won’t.” He’s fidgeting with some dry knee skin, avoiding contact. “Probably wouldn’t notice for a week if I was gone if I’m being honest.” They bring their eyes up to one another again. She notices the sadness in them. 

“It’s for the best, really. Last time he threw a glass at my head-“

What?

“Steve.”

“It’s fine, Rob, he’s rarely around. Plus, I’m not exactly living up to Harrington expectations presently.” He kids, but her sincere look doesn’t move. 

“So the kids.” She asks, thoughtfully. “What’s up with the kids?” She has to know.

He laughs.

“It’s driving me nuts, Harrington! You have no idea.”

“They’re just kids, Robin-“

“I’m sorry, come on, just kids? I don’t buy it. You have gaggle of-”

“A gaggle?”

“Yes, like geese! Don’t interrupt me- But you have this gaggle of children coming to you all month and I’m just supposed to be like- yes, this is totally normal and expected?”

“Yep.” He looks back to Dustin and Erica, ready to change the subject, Robin is still dumbfounded. “Well, matry to sleep, ok Robin?”

She still is confused by the Steve Harrington before her but she gives in. 

A couple hours should be fine.

They found a way in, they’ll find a way out.

And I hope that you smile tonight

Watching the last of your friends arrive

You'll smile and shake their hands

And the hero that you hoped you'd be

Never seemed to show up

And if I can keep on talking

There won't be time to give up

And I hope that I drive tonight

Into the last of the great sunrises

I'll smile and wave my hand

Goodbye

If things don't work out

Quite the way you planned

It's almost half past two

And I've begun to hate the way

You smile, so slow

And I hope that you close your eyes

Block out the pain of a thousand lives

I hope that you die tonight

Just close your eyes, there goes the light

Smile, I'll brave it while you wave your hand

Goodbye

(Three Hopeful Thoughts, Rilo Kiley)

Chapter Text

Harrington watches as Dustin and Erica escape and disappear under the floor in a hatch. Steve wants to take a minute to exhale in relief but the bombardment against the door slams him and Robin into the nearby railing and they both collapse on the floor, hands up in defeat. Next thing he knows there are guns in their faces. 

So many guns. 

And somehow in his mind he’s hearing Yazoo’s Situation in his mind.

Blue eyed, dressed for every situation

Moving through the doorway of a nation

Pick me up and shake the doubt

Baby, I can't do without

(Move out) don't mess around

(Move out) you bring me down

(Move out) how you get about it

Don't make a sound, just move out

Harrington listens as the chaos falls on them and  Robin's breaths become labored and quick. From the side of his vision he watches her hands tremor slightly. The noise bounces around in his brain as the Russian language goes over his head, he can’t follow a word.

He thinks about how in the elevator all night she needed to talk to calm herself down. 

This isn’t going to be the time or place to do that, he hopes she’s reading his mind somehow right now. 

He twists to Robin, in hopes to give her a satisfactory “it’ll be ok” look, but they’re ripped up onto their legs before he can. Internally, he’s freaking out.

They’re both grasped by two men a piece by their arms and begin being led down a long hallway. She’s talking the whole time about how this is a mistake, it was an accident but he drowns her out over the sound of the boots hitting the floor. They march them forward. 

At least it’s just him and her, Dustin and Erica hopefully got out. Dustin will find help, he’ll call Hopper and he’ll call in whoever he needs to. They’ll be found, they’ll be saved. He’s so sure of it.

He’ll have to keep their attention away from Robin in the meantime, if he can. 

But that shattered soon enough.  

At one point he hears her call his name in a panic and a door slam, her voice silenced. 

He’s continuing down the hall, farther away from her.

Please let her be ok.

I remember only for an hour

Move right through me, can you feel the power?

I don't know what's going on

It scares me, but it won't be long

(Move out) don't mess around

(Move out) you bring me down

(Move out) how you get about it

Don't make a sound, just move out

Max is in a panic. Billy is infected by the mind flayer. 

Her asshole of a step brother is still just that- her brother. And no one deserves this.

She’s anxious and nervous and no one else is giving her a minute to process a thing.

All Max wants to do is sneak off and catch Steve at his house or Scoops Ahoy and just- Let. Him. Know. She has a script for How she’d tell him all figured out.

“Hey! Remember Billy? Well- Billy might/is definitely infected by the mind flayer. You remember the mind flayer right? Infected Will. Nearly took over him, almost killed him. That mind flayer. I know what you’re thinking? But didn’t we burn the tunnels so Eleven could close the gate? Exactly!”

But the group was so caught up in proving their theory about Billy, she didn't have time to break away or offer to contact him as a suggestion. Nancy and Jonathan are freaking out as they bolt down the steps of the Wheeler’s basement. Great- there’s more people infected. 

Now they’re headed to get to Nancy and Jonathan’s bosses house.

Last time, Steve was there. He kept them safe, kept her safe.

He should be here. 

He would be if he knew, she’s sure of that.

“Oh hey.” He greeted them just that Monday. Max was hyping up to El how ridiculous Steve looks in his uniform on the bus to the mall. But she knew regardless he’d give them free ice cream, even if she made fun of him. 

In fact, he seemed so pleased that she had apparently taken his advice and bonded with Eleven, that is- until he realized she likely shouldn’t be there. 

But that’s not how her and El roll now. Eleven is her own person, and Max has made sure everyone knows that. 

That day was so much fun.

But not now. 

Now she’s in a panic.

(Move out)

(Move out)

(Move out)

(Move out)

(Move out)

(Move out)

Now, he's in control, he is my lover

Nations stand against him, he's your brother

Been a long time, been a long time now

I'll get to you somehow, yeah

(Move out) don't mess around

(Move out) you bring me down

(Move out) how you get about it

Don't make a sound, just move out

They guide Steve into a room, padding him down, emptying his keys and wallet from his pockets, tossing them on the bench he’s forcefully thrown down on.  They begin typing his hands around a pole to his back. 

He sits nervously, bouncing his leg as the two men with guns leave, locking the door behind them. 

(Move out) don't mess around

(Move out) you bring me down

(Move out) how you get about it

Don't make a sound, just move out

It feels like an hour before anyone enters and he’s greeted by a larger soldier who stands by the door with a dumb grin on his face. A few minutes later he opens the door and someone he assumed to be in a position of authority walks through.

Jonathan and Billy were cake compared to this. 

With a nod, not even an introduction it began. It was fist after fist. A marathon of a beating. It’s been hours now. He sees the bloodied knuckles of the guard through his own swollen eye.

Hands gripping his hair, throwing his head against the wall behind him. 

Hands begin gripping his shoulders and fists find a home in his chest, his ribs and of course, his face. 

The metallic taste continuously floods his mouth. He feels it drip down his nose into his mouth.

Foreign government torture, that’s a new one for him.

At least it’s him and not Dustin, or Erica and hopefully not Robin.

Keep their attention on him.

His eye feels like it wants to pop out.

He feels how oddly he’s begun to breathe, the sting of any inhale and he feels his ribs have to be broken or bruised, again. 

His head rings, that’s most likely another concussion. Again.

Does Hopper still have the name of that Dr.? He’s gonna need it if he gets out of this.

If any migraine wants to present itself can it wait until this whole thing is over- or hey he dies first?

“Who do you work for!”

This fucking guy. 

He pours over Steve’s wallet and car keys.

The leader thumbs his wallet, eyeing his license, removing it from the leather pocket..

“Steven.”

“My name is also on my name tag, asshole.” He spits seeing the blood tinged saliva hit the tiled floor.

He feels his hair stick to his skin, the heat coming off his body, a slick sweat all over his body.

“But this tells me where you live, American. How to reach your precious family.” He smirks at his captive.

 “Good luck going there, no one’s ever there but me.” His breathing feels more labored and he hates it.

He continues by throwing his credit cards on the floor near him. He gives an inquired huff, like it means something, like he’s figured him out.

“BMW,” the man smirks at him again, swinging his keys in front of his face, “car for rich guy, yes? This guy wants us to believe he works at an ice cream store with a rich man’s BMW?”

“My dad, ok? I’m just a dumb, rich, American kid working a stupid job, that’s all.”

The men laugh together once more, and then a seriousness enters his eyes, darkening them before he instructs another fist to find his ribs.

Oh fuck.

Robin wouldn’t have any identifiable things on her right, just her name tag? 

No, girls don’t do that. 

She didn’t bring a bag or a purse with her, her uniform doesn’t even have pockets- he vividly remembers that tangent.

It’s just him.

Good.

He was just trying to diffuse the situation so they can see they have apprehended a couple of dumb kids, not anything else. 

He’ll take the hits if that’s what it takes for them to realize it.

After what has to be several hours the torture and beatings it all begins to blur. His latest interrogation was asking the same questions again and again and he gives the same answers again and again and sometimes he can throw in some sarcastic or quirky answers, but it's one final blow that sends him to a darkness he hasn’t been in since November, still with
Yazoo in his head, like a soundtrack moment ready to play within his dreams- Don’t go.

Came in from the city

Walked into the door

I turned around when I heard

The sound of footsteps on the floor

Love just like addiction

Now I'm hooked on you

I need some time to get it right

Your love's gonna see me through

Can't stop now, don't you know?

I ain't never gonna let you go

Don't go

They didn’t seem to like his USS Butterscotch idea after all.

His dreams while, once again, unconscious feature the usual players for

this theatrical production and some newer faces.

This time he’s at Scoops Ahoy, in his stupid uniform. The kids come into the store, he’s about to get them to the movie theater, but when he swings the door open and they enter the hallways one end holds a demogorgon and the other holds a pack of demo dogs. Dustin’s scream echoes over every inch of his brain. They look to him as both sides begin their assault, soon enough the hallway flips and the door now hangs above them. Steve attempts to lift each child up and back out of the door, Max, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Erica. 

Robin? 

“Go, get help!” He hears himself say. That’s right, he sent Dustin and Erica away.

“ROBIN?”

Where’s Robin?

Her screams fill the hallway as both ends collapse towards him. She’s screaming for HELP.

He has to find Robin. 

Steve’s suddenly thrown onto a patch of dirt, the scene changing completely. It’s like his mind doesn't want to go back to Starcourt anymore and find her.

He looks up and he hears the Camaro sing to life with a roar. The lights illuminate him, blind him. It’s Billy again. He feels himself being physically pulled to his feet by Hargrove. Nicotine is flooding inside his nostrils. All at once there’s more tension in his shoulders down to his arms and feet. He feels like he’s being binded together.

He has to crawl back, this isn’t where he is. He’s in a secret Russian base underground, with Robin. 

Where they’re opening a gate. 

As in the gate that El closed last year. 

He has to get out of here, and back there however painful it is. To get back to everyone, and to do that he has to get out of here.

Dustin has to be on his way to Hopper by now.

The pain begins to resurface in his face and ribs, the agony gripping his body trying to hold him down further and longer into the darkness and away from the reality of his pain from these injuries. 

He has to crawl into the pain, to get back to where he needs to be, the other side of this dream. He knows this. 

It’s not until her screams from his dreams fill his head and echo in his ears that he’s finally realized he’s able to fight himself back into consciousness. Her voice is panicked and bouncing all around his head. The vibration and tone of her voice is sending a searing pain into his head. Everything hurts. He feels his arms and body being held by straps, unable to move. Not that he’d be able to go far given the dizziness and swaying movement his head is tricking him into. 

He hears Robin, he’s scratching this dull surface of consciousness hoping any minute he can finally communicate to her, hoping to have any words fall out of his mouth to help her calm down. 

Oh, baby, make your mind up

Give me what you got

Fix me with your lovin'

Shut the door and turn the lock

Hey, go get the doctor

Doctor came too late

Another night, I feel all right

My love for you can't wait

Can't stop now, don't you know?

I ain't never gonna let you go

Don't go

“All I’m saying is, we could create a diversion with the melty green sludge, use this fun but deadly weapon and save your friends now, instead of risking their butts leaving them here to die… by the Russians.”

“We still need to get to Hopper and let him know about the gate.”

“Which we can do when we all escape- together.”

Dustin looks at Erica, intently. Forty minutes ago he knew they heard Robin yelling for help. Steve wasn’t joining in. He hasn’t heard Steve, at all. 

He knows he told him to get help but Dustin also knows Erica’s got a point and given how long it’s been taking for them to get anywhere - she might be right. 

He looks at the keycard, the cart he’s driving and the cattle prod. It’s not a bad plan.

“Let’s get like eight of those green things, Erica.”

“Ay-ay captain!” She mock salutes. He hopes she’s right. Dustin looks ahead, still nervous. Erica tries to calm him down.

“Dustin, we just need to focus-“

“Erica, I’m just worried. Last year, when Billy attacked him, he got, like, really hurt. Now Steve gets these migraines that like to knock him on his ass for days. We heard Robin- I just-“

“Dustin, we gotta just find them-“

“He knocked that Russian out, what if they’re like making him pay- if he gets hurt again because of me- I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive-“

“Then we should stop wasting time feeling sorry for ourselves and bust them out and go already.”

Somehow their plan works and next thing he knows he’s kneeling before Steve, his eye swollen and his lip split once again but apparently just excited to see Dustin and be saved. 

“Get ready to run-“ he gives him a quick look over, it’s mostly just his face and head again, isn’t it?

“I got my ass kicked again, dude.” He says while laughing.

“I can see that, Steve, let’s just go and then we’ll take care of it-”

“Get in the truck, you guys-“ Erica is not wasting any time. She’s got Robin untied and is guiding her out of the room with a gentle shove.

“Our chariot awaits, dingus!”

They shove them in the back of the truck determined to get the hell out of this place.

Walked into the door

I turned around when I heard

The sound of footsteps on the floor

Said he was a killer

Now I know it's true

I'm dead when you walk out the door

Hey, babe, I'm hooked on you

Can't stop now, don't you know?

I ain't never gonna let you go

Don't go

Chapter Text

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.” He thumbs over to her as an introduction of her to Nancy as Dustin jumps in.

“She cracked the top secret Russian code-“

“Russians?”

“Yes! The Russians!”

“Those were Russians-”

“Some of them!” 

She feels so far behind she still has no idea what happened to the car and even after Steve tries to explain it- no, she’s lost. What is happening? She can’t concentrate on the multitude of conversations happening around her. Everyone is just comfortable with all this new information and trying to talk over one another about -things and events within the last week? 

Then she realizes it. It hits her like a ton of bricks. 

All of these kids, they’re all the kids who kept coming in all summer. 

All of Steve’s kids are here and a part of this. 

And Nancy and Jonathan- they’re now huddled around trying to help the super powered girl and Robin herself feels she might combust. She translated and cracked a secret Russian code, broke into and out of a secret Russian base where she and Steve “The Hair” Harrington were captured, tortured and drugged. 

Supergirl is in pain, all she can think to do is talk.

A tangent might help here- nevermind. Steve gently expresses it’s not helping.

This is the wildest week of her life. She just told her deepest darkest secret to her once enemy- who is totally fine with it, and she’s pretty sure he’s her best friend now- they have some weird bond now, that's for sure.

Wait? 

What just flew out of super girl’s leg?

SHUT UP! IS THAT CHIEF HOPPER?

If she was the type to faint, she would. She recalls Steve pushing his number to her during his migraine episode a couple weeks ago- he wasn’t making a joke. 

He was completely serious. 

When they were drugged and he name dropped Hopper saying he’d be coming with the Calvary- THIS IS THE CALVARY?? Mrs. Beyers and some bald sarcastic guy?

Robin watches as Steve is off talking with Max and squatting putting both arms over both her shoulders, pulling her in in a fierce hug. She looks scared.

Next thing she knows the group is huddled together and he stays closest to Max, as Hopper asks both groups to recount what the hell they’re all doing. 

Nancy and Jonathan eye Steve up and down, his face can’t look worse than it feels this time right?

At least the drugs have to have mostly worn off, he puked it all up God, he’s hungry..

Max tugs at him almost immediately, after El has the particle free from her leg, Hopper and Joyce arrive and they tend to her injury and wrap her leg. 

He follows as she pulls him off from everyone else to fill him in.

“It’s Billy, he’s infected with the mind flayer like Will last year.” 

Steve inhales deeply and squats down to her.

“Ok, well they got it out of Will last year and it looks like Hopper and that bald guy and Mrs Beyer’s know how to handle the gate, ok-” He looks at the trio as they talk to the others. “Close the gate off, and he’ll be free. We just have to trust Hopper…”

“Steve what if they can’t- it was really scary- and no one-“ she tears ups

“Hey, no.” He stops and pulls her into a hug. “Hey, come on.” He takes a deep breath, “Explain it again.”

“He’s possessed by the mind flayer and it’s connected to this giant spider that wrecked Hopper’s cabin, but it's not smoke it’s made with like flesh and bones from people-“

“People.” He says it as if it’s almost unfounded. “Like flesh of people, ok. Let’s just verify that with everyone else, ok? But we’ll figure it out, Max.” He looks back at her again. “People?”

“Here’s the deal- Murray and I are going to shut the gate down. You all go to Murray’s until we finish this. Just leave here as soon as possible.” Hopper commands, soon Steve is just confirming about the mind flayer theory for himself, which Nancy graciously confirms for him. He watches Max and soon the bald guy, Murray, arrives on the scene again with a flurry of yellow papers. It’s an awkward moment when Murray stops in front of him and reads his name tag, Steve- wait STEVE quickly looking back to Nancy and Jonathan like he’s not privy to some joke between the three of them. Nancy goes bright red as Murray releases a very unsettled laugh.

He doesn’t have time to over analyze it. 

He sits on the counter of Hot Dog on a Stick wishing he knew how to turn it on and just make some food. Any bananas around? 

Robin pops over with a frozen bag for him, handing it over. He immediately places it on his ribs. Tucking it into him as he sits.

“Not your face?” She inquires.

“When I’m home.” He knows he has to look bad but the drug is likely pushing off any migraine that wants to poke through. He can handle that July 6th.

“You owe me an explanation.”

“Of what?”

“Everything, dingus, and I mean everything- from the beginning.”

He looks over at the group, the kids. He thinks of how much has happened in a short span of years, if he could take it all back and be ignorant to it all, would he? Does he really want to involve Robin into this?

“Rob, maybe it’s best you don’t know it all-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She’s offended, pulling the ice off her own face. “I was just drugged and kidnapped by a foreign government, witnessed a super powered tween flip a car, and some weird alien looking being-thing fly from her leg, but maybe I shouldn’t know?” She tosses her ice pack at him. “I think your head does need this, right now.”

“All I’m saying Robin is maybe it’s safer to leave it as it is tonight-”

“Is that what you're going to be doing?”

“Me, no way.” He looks out to the kids. “No way.”

“Well, then it’s official, I’m in this too.” She stands up and walks over to him. “We’re weirdly in this together now, Steve. Whatever it is.” She joins him, locking her arm into his, resting her head on his shoulder. They look out to the rest of the party, Robin contemplating how everyone falls into this story. 

They’re soon interrupted when he hears Dustin and Erica calling his name in succession and he’s pulled away from the ice Robin just handed him. They gotta go, they got a car, and she’s immediately beside him. He sees the group eye him and her up. They are thinking something obviously way too far from the truth.

Jonathan watches Nancy watch Steve and Robin exit with Dustin and Erica. 

The elder Wheeler is still not 100% sure how they got into the secret base below the mall, or what happened to Steve except he once again looks like a punching bag for someone. 

“That’s an odd couple.”

Nancy swings around, Jonathan breaks her train of thought.

“What do you mean?”

“Steve and Robin Buckley, she’s like insanely smart, and in band.. Just never would have pictured it-”

“I was, I mean I am, smart.” He senses her offense. Beyers stops, throwing his arms up in defense.

“I’m just saying it looks like Steve found someone he’s trauma bonded with now, you know? Like us.”

Nancy swings around to Jonathan, taken aback.

“What?” She’s pushing down any jealousy that’s making her neck pink.

“They were tortured and drugged down there.” He carefully pulls at her hand, rubbing their twin scar on her palm. “If that’s not trauma bonding, I don’t know what else is.”

“Trauma bonded, yeah.” She looks at Jonathan, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, I guess so.” She wants to fold carefully into him, feel safe with him, she wants to slowly let the anger she had been feeling the last few days melt slightly. But it’s harder than she expects, but she leaves it to the stress of the situation. Getting all the kids to safety at Murray’s home is the priority. Get everyone away from here so Hopper can close the gate, again.

Murray approaches both of them.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but was that Steve, the Steve- as in-”

“Murray, the keys.” Nancy snaps, cutting him off.

“Sheesh, I mean, hey, I was just going to-”

“Don’t.” Nancy says in hopes to finish the conversation. 

Murray shoots a look at Jonathan, who gives a somewhat confused look at Nancy in response. What is he missing?

“Right, ok then- the keys-”

Robin thinks he’s insane. She’ll just go with this?

He’s the one flying down the hill in the TOD FATHER as fast as he can.

They approach the mall and he’s got a mad and desperate look in his eyes.

“Robin-.”

He’s shifting gears like a stunt driver past red lights and flying at 90mph- they hit the parking lot and she knows he hears the popping sounds and there stands Nancy Wheeler in front of the occupied station wagon. What’s he trying to tell her?

“Steve...”

“Robin- just-.” 

“Oh my god, STEVE!” 

He shifts the gear and slams the gas further. They pick up speed and she’s terrified but she trusts Harrington. She has to. He would do anything for these people, including exactly what he’s about to do.

“I need you to -HOLD ON!”

He sees her nod.

“AND TRUST ME.”

At the last second, he plows into the blue Camaro, throwing his own arm in front of her as they jolt in their seats, his torso slamming into the steering wheel. 

“You ok?” No regard for himself, once more.

“Ask me tomorrow?” She will have to hold him to that.

Then they see it: the flesh monster they were warned about. Terror is obvious in both their eyes.

Soon Nancy is in front of him and they peel out of the totaled car and she just about hyperventilates in the back seat as he calms her, pretty quickly, much to her surprise. 

Somehow it ends after fireworks as a weapon are deployed. After she watches Billy Hargrove get impaled by a flesh monster, saving the super powered girl. 

She watches as Steve’s eyes go wide and dart right down to Max. 

She watches him pull his hands through his hair, an unreadable expression on his face, when an emotion surfaces its grief, confusion, relief, devastation. 

Soon a cavalcade of military personnel arrive, taking over, taking stock. She watches as Steve monitors from afar Max’s reunion with her Mom and Step Father. 

The howl they release learning of Billy’s death, sticks in her mind.

Rain begins to pour and eventually in a fog she’s dispersed and allowed to leave with her family. 

As she’s removed from Steve, she can’t help but ponder how alone she already feels without him. How they had been around one another non stop for weeks and just survived an unthinkable situation, and not everyone was so lucky.

He just grins as she walks away from him, shrouded by her parents. 

Somehow she knows, no one is coming for him. 

She can only watch from her parents car as he approaches the ambulance Nancy and Jonathan were seated at. 

As she pulls away a thought crosses her mind: Did he even let the EMS look him over? Now that she’s looking back at him, she goes through the last couple of hours and she doesn’t think so.

He risked so much. Endured actual torture at the hands of a foreign government and he’s still just checking on everyone else. 

They were drugged, chased after. 

And that monster that was made of people. 

So many casualties. He promises he’ll tell her everything, even if he initially just wanted to protect her from it.

If I wait for just a second more,

I know I'll forget what I came here for,

My head was so full of things to say,

But as I open my lips all my words slip away

and anyway,

“You did what? Ok- what if it was the beemer, Steve-” He’s clinging tightly to the older boy. “Would you still have rammed your car into Billy?”

“Yes, Dustin, even if it was the beemer.” Erica and Dustin arrive by a government car, coming down from WeatherTop. He fills him in, that Max is with her mom and step father as they grieve Billy’s death. How Hargrove sacrificed himself for El at the end. Could he have had an opportunity to change similarly to how Steve had, if given the chance? 

Lucas filled him in on using the fireworks to help take down the Mind Flayer. 

Erica waits patiently as she’s looked over and then rushes to Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair as they rush to the scene with Claudia Henderson and Ted and Karen Wheeler.

Steve wonders if the Sinclairs are here to slit his throat, but they take their children in their arms, the government coverup of a fire holding tight into the psyche of anyone now arriving on the scene.

Claudia approaches him and pulls him tight into a hug.

“Are you ok, Steve?” She inspects his eye and lip, gingerly, and then she looks around. “Parents here yet?”

“No worries, Mrs. Henderson. I’ll be fine, nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix.” He wants to go home. Flop onto his bed. Take off this stupid uniform, finally. He smiles as best he can, even with his split lip beginning to throb.

He suddenly thinks about the contents of his wallet and keys still somewhere in that base down below. Should he try to let one of the military guards know? I guess they’re all good as gone. Just another thing for him to do next week. Get his ID and cards back. He has spare car keys at the house but to get into there-

“I need your keys to the house, dude.” He tells Dustin.

“Oh, gotcha.” Dustin pulls it out of his pocket, uncurling it off a keyring. He almost looks like he doesn’t want to give it back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back in a couple days kid.”

He takes a minute looking out into the parking lot, he could have sworn he parked his car on this side of the mall, but that must have been another day.

Robin is gone by then, and while he knows she wants to know everything, his heart slightly sinks knowing someone else is now tied to this.

I can't believe you want to turn the page,

And move your life onto another stage,

You can change the chapter you can change the book,

But the story remains the same if you'd take a look.

Will jumps out of an ambulance, finally seeing his Mother, safe.  

His hope is this time, this time this is it. It’s over. But it’s never been that easy.

Steve heads back to Nancy and Jonathan to see how they are. 

“Robin leave?” Jonathan asks. Nancy shoots him a quick look, then shoots Steve a small smile.

“Uh, yeah, parents came. She’s good though.” He looks. “You know, given… everything.”

“Hey, thanks.” She says towards Harrington, quickly locking eyes with Jonathan, then back to Steve, “For you know…”

“With Billy.” Jonathan finishes.

“Did you get looked at?” Nancy looks at him, but he throws on his usual charm. She knows this dance, so does Jonathan. Before he can answer they hear Eleven yell and begin crying in Joyce’s arms. Jonathan immediately jumps down and moves over to his Mother and Brother.

“Hop.” Nancy brings her hand to her mouth, her other hand grabbing Steve’s arm out of instinct. They exchange a look as Murray walks over towards them, he’s shaking his head, wiping his eyes. 

Another casualty of this.

For the times we've had I don't want to be - a page in your diary babe,

For the good, the bad I don't want to see - a page in your diary babe,

For the happy, the sad - I don't want to be another page in your diary.

He watches as Mike bolts over to hold El, tears flowing from everyone’s eyes.

Steve looks around the scene. He feels a small pang starting to re-enter his head. Is it the new injury, or the result is causing a migraine. He instinctively rubs his ribs. He can feel himself beginning to fade, adrenaline diminishing. 

Nancy is still close to him, holding his arm tight. It feels comforting in a day filled with so much gore and death. Feeling Nancy’s warmth grounds him as he lets the news hit him. Hopper is gone. He didn’t make it. Billy didn’t make it. Countless others.

He nearly died, he knows it. They all almost did. Again.

He walks away from Nancy, she goes to approach Jonathan and everyone but suddenly stops, curious why Steve isn’t following.

“Steve?” He knows she’s wondering where he must be going.

“Nance. It’s ok.” He smiles at her.

“How are you getting home?”

Perhaps if I held you I could win again,

I could take your hands we'd talk and maybe then -

That look in your eyes I always recognise,

Would tell me everything is gonna be fine,

You're gonna be mine

for a long time...

“Steve! How are you getting home?” She asks more desperately now, definitely harsher than she wanted it to come out. Jonathan looks back at them, tears in his eyes about Hopper, curious. Steve nods and directs her to show he’s going to ask a government official. He walks in the rain towards an unmarked car. He should take care of his injuries, get some food, and get some rest. Then he can properly grieve Hopper, and figure out how to explain any of this properly to Robin.

For the times we've had I don't want to be - a page in your diary babe,

For the good, the bad I don't want to see - a page in your diary babe,

For the happy, the sad - I don't want to be another page in your diary.

Loch Nora is quiet, dim. Oblivious to the carnage only a few miles away. He approaches his home, palming the keys Dustin gave him. The unmarked car pulls away almost immediately, not even watching him go inside. 

He debates heading back to the pool first. He opens his own fence and makes his way outback on the patio. 

The pool glitters under the starlight, the reflection of the water dancing across the yard.

Another event with these interdimensional beings and he can’t think of being anywhere else but where it started for him. Right in his own pool.

He looks down at the blood stained uniform he’s wearing. New nightmares are going to begin to haunt him, he’s so sure of it. Billy dying that horrific death. Hopper gone. Max’s pain. The torture he and Robin experienced. That Russian Colonel. He’s going to haunt him for a very long time. 

He pulls his hand over his face and almost immediately regrets it, the open wounds and swollen patches of his face scream to life.

Fuck. 

Harrington looks back to the illuminated kitchen visible from the patio, did he leave the kitchen light on? He’s been away long enough, if it wasn’t him it was probably Dustin. The older teen’s stomach is talking to him, he’s way overdue for anything in his stomach. 

He uses the key to enter the door outback, locking it immediately. All he wants to do is eat, so obviously he is making his way to the fridge first. He opens the fridge door and begins pulling out lunchmeat, bread and fixings to make a sandwich. The cool air reaches his skin, sending a welcome chill up his arms. He’s pretty sure it’s going to be the best tasting thing he’s ever eaten at this rate. He thinks about the medicine he should take for whatever is about to happen after the adrenaline fully fades and he’s left with the pain that’s subtly resurfacing.

He looks at the kitchen table as he places the sandwich down, perplexed.

On the table lay the keys to his BMW, his wallet folded closed. And in a grid: his license, and the three credit cards that were in his wallet. A chill travels down his spine, as his attention is brought to the entryway of the living room where he sees the glint of metal dotting wood.

“Strange bat you have here, American.” He pauses as the man steps forward and out of the shadows, it’s the tormentor from earlier, no longer in his uniform but still unmistakenly his previous captor. “I wonder what you fight off with it, hm?” He inspects it more. “Curious dried blood on it, too.” The Colonel. He takes a step back, dropping his plate back onto the table. The meat and lettuce skew across the plate.

“Your parents left a message, they won’t be home for another week. That’s good for us, yes?” Steve is holding his breath, the bat is loosely swinging in the older man’s hands. He seems too cool and casual just waiting for him in his house. Didn’t the government get this guy? 

How long has he been here, waiting for him?

“We have more to talk about, don’t we, Steve?”

He contemplates making a break for it and bolting it to the patio when he hears a click. The click makes everything else stop in his mind, a dangerous quiet. It’s a familiar sound only because he’s heard it before, once when Nancy held a revolver to his face that first November. 

He twists around and sees a pistol is now aimed at him. Breathing immediately becomes harsher, his ribs feeling the ache of each inhale and release. That’s right, the pain, and the torture. His head begins to catch up to him, the throb turning on its intensity. He knows he squeezes his eyes in pain. The man before him lets out a sigh, not gentle, not frustrated, more a subconscious come on already.

“Grab your food," He begins, casually, like they're not in some dire situation with this man being in his kitchen  "You must be hungry, Sit down. Eat.”

Steve cautiously obeys, sitting at the table as the man places the gun down in front of him, putting the bat next to him away from Steve, he reaches over, not breaking eye contact as the Russian takes half the sandwich for himself. 

The phone begins to ring, Steve’s eyes immediately go wide. His visitor stops chewing and picks up the gun again. Swallowing, he motions for Steve to go answer it. 

“Go, answer it. Be fast.”

He walks over to the receiver, picking it up.

“H-Hello?”

For the times we've had I don't want to be - a page in your diary babe,

For the good, the bad I don't want to see - a page in your diary babe,

For the happy, the sad - I don't want to be, just another page in your history.

Chapter Text

Harrington feels a numbness in his body as he faces this man, again. The older teen is hungry, he’s tired, he feels a migraine coming on. Is this just his migraine being particularly cruel? A hallucination from the trauma he’s endured the past day? Maybe Billy will walk through that door next and he’ll know it’s not real.

“Grab your food, you must be hungry, Sit down. Eat.”

Steve obeys, sitting at the table as the man places the gun down in front of him, putting the bat next to him and away from Steve. The nails scratch against the wood as he positions it, carefully avoiding the pointed nails stemming out from the wooden bat. He reaches over, taking half Steve's sandwich for himself, shrugging like he should have expected it. 

The phone begins to ring, Steve’s eyes immediately go wide. The Russian stops chewing and picks up the gun again. Swallowing, he motions for Steve to answer it. 

He walks over to the receiver, picking it up.

“H-Hello”

“Hey, I was just seeing if you got home yet.” It’s Robin. His eyes water. “You answering the phone is an obvious yes.”

“Yeah, I’m home.” He wants to choke out a sob, he hopes it’s not obvious. Steve sees a dark gaze from his guest and he knows his time is limited, he has to go.

“I was-”

“Hey, I’m uh, really tired and just got in. I want to get a shower and all, can we talk later-”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” She sounds disappointed, possibly tired, scared. “Don’t die. Get some rest and we’ll catch-“ He laughs to himself, the irony. He hangs up the receiver. He hates doing this to her, but he’s kind of in a situation again.

He sits back down. Taking a bite from his meal, he looks at his present captor and locks eyes with him. He won’t be afraid. This is his home. He knows they shut down the base under Starcourt. He was just there. This guy has to be desperate.

“Our government shut down your base.”

“They did.” He muses, finishing the side of his sandwich, licking his fingers, he moves into putting his leg up on a free chair, playing with the gun in his hand, smirking at Steve. Then it dawns on Steve, that dress shirt, those pants, that belt- this guy is wearing his Dad’s clothes. He’s been here making himself at home.

“Why are you here?”

“I need to hide out until my people come to get me. An Extrication." 

“What makes you think they’re coming?”

He smirks, looking into Steve’s eyes, his own eyes hold a flicker of something sparkling and nefarious. He looks down to the bat and back at Steve. He doesn’t even humor an answer to him. A chill fills the air as Steve feels the air kick on. He rubs his neck feeling the grime and blood flake off his body. He really wants to shower. He’s going to shower.

“Look, dude. I’m kind of tired, swollen from the work your guys did on me today, and I’m covered in blood and sweat from quite the eventful day.” He drums his fingers on the table, pushing his empty plate towards the middle. “And seeing as how you’ve already helped yourself to my house, and my Father’s clothing- I’d like to finally get out of this ridiculous uniform you’ve ruined, and I’m going to take a shower.” Maybe if he’s lucky, he can get to bed and this is all a dream. He knows migraines can cause hallucinations, he has to hope it’ll end soon. This would be his most wild one. 

The Russian continues gesturing with the gun, standing up, pouring over Steve’s sorry state.

“Yes, Fine. Go, shower.” He motions for him to go before him and follows him up the steps. As Steve passes the front doors, he sees the locks in place, except the deadbolt and chain. He’s glad Dustin currently doesn’t have his key, he wouldn’t want to involve him in this. Dustin would innocently enough try to check in on him, only to find himself in danger once more. 

No, this time, it’s just him. It has to stay that way.

Every door upstairs is open as Steve walks past the spaces, he notices his Father’s office is torn apart. Papers and files thrown around. A personal computer case is opened, a phone connecting to the side, a longer antenna sticking up from it. Next to it he sees a black leather bag, neither of which are his Fathers’ belongings. 

He approaches his room and motions to enter it. He picks out a change of clothes. Holding them to his chest, he’s back in the hall being led into the main room. He notices a military uniform is thrown across a chair as several dress shirts and slacks litter the floor. Several belts and ties rest on the bed, neatly. He motions him into his parent’s private bathroom. He seems to be comfortable with the layout of his home.

“Don’t be too long.” Steve enters the space, looking to shut the door behind him when he hears a noise objecting from behind him. 

He swings the door back open, sarcastically. 

Harrington sits in the steam for a while, feeling the grime and blood loosen off his skin and mix with the water, flowing down his body, falling over the bruising blooming against his chest and sides. He leans against the cool tile, letting it ease the pain of his eye and head. His hair hangs over his eyes as the sweat leaks into his mouth, the taste sour on his tongue. The pain in his head continued to grow per minute but he’s hoping to remain strong. As he rests against the wall, he feels dizzy and almost falls, but he catches himself, pulling the soft towel towards himself. 

When he’s finished and dressed he comes to the bedroom where his captor motions him to sit on the bed. He notices the black leather bag had been moved from his Father’s office to here, and he eyes it suspiciously.

“Sit.” 

Steve finishes with the towel to his head and sits down on the edge of the bed, meeting his captor, his eyes locked on the Russian. “You are going to listen to me, yes?” He holds the gun near him, closing in the space between the two. Steve nods, cautiously. There still has been no discussion about what this guy wants from him. The silence in the house hangs as a tense energy between prey and predator. 

“Ok.” is all he can think to respond.

“Colonel Ozerov, Steve.” Harrington nods again, great. Now he has a name. He pulls Steve’s hands together, crossing them.

“You don’t look so good.” He pulls up the duct tape from beside the black bag and begins winding it around Steve’s hands, binding them together. 

“Well, I was kinda tortured and drugged against my will today by a foreign government.”

The sound of the tape unfurling echoes in Steve’s mind, his vision folding at the edges little by little. He wants to fight. He should want to fight.

Ozerov looks up at him, grinning wide.

“добро.” He responds, slipping out of English into his native Russian. He begins toying with one of his Father’s belts and wraps it around his belly, forcing his arms and hands firm down in his lap. He instinctives finally wants to begin to struggle against his captor. He tries to kick him but the energy just isn’t there, he’s spent. Over 24 hours with no sleep- aside from being knocked out. Half a sandwich in his belly, and now this?

“Come on- we don’t- stop-“ he can barely understand his own voice as Ozerov replies.

“Успокойся”

The Colonel releases a series of tsk clicks and grabs one of his Father’s ties, pushing it between Steve’s lips as he wraps it two more times, tying it tight behind his head. It irritates his bruising leaving a throbbing ache in its wake. He releases several pained moans. Gravity wants to pull him forward as he slouches on Ozerov who doesn’t seem too concerned at the weight falling into him.

The Russian instead lets Steve hang over his shoulder as he focuses on the floor, tying his legs together with another one of his Father’s belts. He begins pushing him up, hugging Steve’s shoulders as he finishes his binding off with one more around them pinning his arms down to his sides. He’s completely immobile now. Just like when he was tied up with Robin. 

Ozerov looks him over, pleased. At once, and with a laughed grunt, he flips Steve’s legs up, pushing his upper body onto the bed as the boy responds with a surprised, pained moan . Steve can barely hold onto consciousness anymore, it’s like any energy he had in reserve has left him. Soon he feels as his captor begins to pull him further up his parent’s bed, in what appears to be an attempt to make him comfortable? He pulls his head up and onto a pillow. He sits Steve on his side in an almost gentle fashion. A familiar soft blanket covers him with the detergent filling his senses. 

“Good. добро. Yes.” The Colonel mutters to himself. 

Steve hears him walk over to the door and through the hallway as he begins to close the various doors in the hallway.  In his mind he maps it out as Ozerov moves through this home, the home he invaded and is now occupying calmly. He hears him stalk downstairs, making sure all the locks are in place.  He hears the chain jangle as it’s put in place further securing the door. The heavy lift of the deadbolt being pushed over. Each lock traps him further in his own home, putting more into the control of his captor. When the steps come back towards this room he hears the snap of the lights being turned off. His eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. He can vaguely see the soft shadows cast from the small lamp on the end table illuminating the back of his body. The shock of his situation settles into his body further. 

He feels Ozerov stretch closer and closer back to where Steve now lay, gagged and bound in his parents bed, tucked in like a child for sleep. Tears begin to leak from the corners of his eyes. He blinks several times to clear his vision. He hears the Russian open something maneuvering objects that sounds like glasses clinking in a bag. 

He soon feels a weight lay down on the other side of the bed, Steve’s eyes widened. 

Oh god.

“We sleep now, American. Выспись хорошенько” 

He feels a small prick to his neck, and almost instantly Steve allows the darkness to take him.

Robin is laying in bed. It’s 2:30am and she’s pretty sure her new job is an official toss and turner. Closing her eyes, she sees that fleshy spider made of people. She takes a deep breath in and she smells gun powder from the fireworks. Sitting up she feels the whiplash of Steve crashing the car. 

She was happy to get out of her uniform, finally. It didn’t even register to her until it was off that it was probably the last time she was ever going to be wearing it. The mall is gone, ergot Scoops Ahoy is gone, ergot the uniforms are gone as well.

She wonders if Steve is going to keep his. Then she pictures him, the blood stained on the collar soaking down from his nose and mouth. The way his hair was matted down with sweat and yet it still did look good. Only him. His eye was so swollen, his lip looked like it needed stitches. Focusing on her breathing she inhales and exhales. Get the broken image of him out of her mind. 

She called but he sounded equally exhausted and she understands.

She pulls her knees to her chest while sitting on her bed. Her hair still damp from washing the Starcourt Mall off of her body, she picks at her brackets and feels her wrists. Phantom binds still tugging at her. 

What if he is just trying to keep her from this life, or experience, like he said. What business does she have in being involved in conspiracies and monsters? What business did Steve have with it?

He’s supposed to tell her everything, just not tonight apparently.

She tucks her head between her folded knees, trying to settle her breathing and instead releases a shuttered sob into her legs. Leaning into herself more, her body begins to shake as the shock of the days finally unwind, releasing sorrows for the still form she laid witness to in the small, cold room. Her hands still feel his wet hair, held down by sweat as she reaches for him.

“I thought you were dead.” It’s a whisper she keeps secret to her knees. “I thought you were dead.”

The rest of the night fast forwards as he awakens and they come to an understanding of one another. Of waiting in the dim room waiting to feel the effect of whatever drug they gave them, freedom from bonds by a couple of children. 

His children.

Lips making confessions leading to an understanding and bonding she would never expect. Acceptance.

She opens her eyes. In the dark, she sees a flesh made spider monster. It’s going to wreck her house and impale her like it did Billy. 

She’s home, but she’s not Robin. She’s home, but she’s not safe. She wonders if she’ll ever feel safe again. Trembling, she hugs herself closer, tears falling down her cheeks non stop.

He’ll tell her everything, just not tonight.

Russian translation:

*добро: good

*Успокойся : relax

*Выспись хорошенько" (vys-pees harosh-en-ka): A great phrase for "sleep well" or "get a good night's rest" when someone has a big day ahead

Chapter Text

The curtains are drawn and he’s unsure what time it is, he vaguely recalls he’s in his parents room. Darkness floods the space, his head in a fog, he feels the wetness on his Father’s silk tie sticking in his mouth uncomfortably. Trying to shift but a pain shutters through his torso at any movement. The tape sticking to his wrists chaffs against his movement, the belt indenting against his skin. His attempt to shift is met with a swift fall onto his back to the floor. The blanket dragged under him, slightly softening the blow.

After an initial muffled scream, he releases a series of pained moans from the fall as he tried to shift his body over. He begins to hear movement up the steps, not fast, not hurried, casual.

Soon he finds Ozerov crouched over him, mild concern while feeling Steve’s forehead. Pulling him up by the binding of his shoulders Steve lets out a gagged scream as he breaths in.

Through labored breaths the Russian rolls down Steve’s gag and they make eye contact, the older man’s expression of confusion. 

“Ribs. Chest. Ugh.” All Steve can moan is information where he’s hurting. Lifting him back onto the bed, his captor leaves momentarily. 

He comes back with an ace bandage, laying it on the bed.

He begins to undo Steve’s belts around his stomach and shoulders, relief shows on his face as they’re removed. 

Ozerov the. positions himself against his prey’s leg binds, preventing any movement. He pulls the tee shirt over Steve’s head, pulling it towards his hands, he then drapes his hands over his own neck. Steve’s breath comes in and out at a rapid pace, his hairline sweating, eyes pulsing in pain.

Pressing and prodding, he inspects the chest injuries of the boy before him, who lets out expected grunts. Steve lets out a sigh of relief, as he releases a hard breath, although still wincing.

The Russian smirks as he begins to wrap the chest of the older teen. At first, the constriction feels normal from past injuries and Steve begins to adjust against it. He begins at the bottom of his ribs, crossing the bandage and rolling both ends around his torso repeatedly. The Russian pulls tight each round, harsher and firmer, a vibrating pain shuttering against his ribs. Harrington releases grunts in pain, another round beginning and each take a tighter pull still with a sticking tight grasp. He yells at the constricting pain around his broken ribs. It’s getting harder to inhale.

“Stop-” his breathing falling short “it’s too-” the Russian pulls harder, “it’s too, tight.” Pulling harder with his eyes pouring into Steve with each tightening grasp. “Please-“

It’s with a gasp, and spots entering his vision, the older teen begins to recognize the torture that’s being forced upon him. His breathing hitches short and sharp, an aching taking up lungs, loud gasps escaping with every pull. He can’t breathe. 

“Oz…er…please…” the Russian releases a low laugh, darkened green eyes reflecting into his brown. A sinister grin.

“Не будь ребенком!” Slipping into Russian,

laughing more as he pulls even tighter against his ribs. A soft crack felt under his skin.

“Broken ribs, no good.” He forces his prisoner onto his own chest, standing up, taking Steve with him, he grabs behind his spine with a maddening draw holding him close as he feels every breath escape out of his body further. He holds the boy close, tying the wrap firmly and feeling his work. He pulls his captive’s head up to his own, wiping his wet brow as the breath stays short and erratic, he inspects his eyes.

“Please….” Escapes his lips between heavy heaves. His vision is doubling, his limbs weak. Ozerov seems to understand as much as he releases his torso and allows him to hyperventilate against his shoulder as he bends down to unbind his legs.

Unfurling his tee shirt from his hands, the older man rolls it back over the teen.

“Come Ириска”

He pulls himself up, continuing to drag Steve with him, he sees the disorientation from the lack of oxygen and uses his weight to support him as he begins guiding him out of the bedroom. His hands firm against the tightly woven torso. 

Steve’s repeated objection of “no,” is raised barely above a whisper.

They approach his Father’s office, the room dark and blinds drawn. He drops him on the Persian rug, abruptly, discarding him to the floor. He aches and sprawls on the floor in pain and unable to breathe.

Crouching down to him once more, The Russian, places a long, arachnid index finger into his mouth, feeling it around the muscle and fat inside, rubbing over his teeth.

In his delirium, Steve pauses at the moment, another hand grasping his jaw, keeping his gaze forced upon the man before him. He adds a second finger pushing his tongue down, causing a choking sound, a rasp escaping. Closing his mouth around the fingers he motions them in and out repeatedly, adding a third. Choking, he finally relents, releasing him. He pulls out the wet appendages, wiping them off on the teen’s tee as his eyes focus on the horror of the behavior from this man. Squirming on the floor, gagging, the Russian pulls Steve onto his lap, stroking his neck and arm as he lays him on his side as he chokes and gags, in uneven, fast inhalations. 

“I am a good soldier for my country, boy. Many years I have trained and worked, and I have done what I have had to-to take control of my men. To take control of a situation. Obtain necessary information. The title of Colonel is not given lightly.” The darkness and memories being relived in his voice send a chill through Steve’s spine.

“Before I was a Colonel, sure I fight.” Raising his fist to him he twists it around, as if to hit but stops and looks away instead. “I found other methods more… interesting.” He humors, resting a hand on Steve’s rapidly rising and falling chest.“I became known for certain …methods”  He seems to hum along to the rising and falling rhythm; he begins swiftly singing what sounds like a lullaby. His hands continue to caress and play keys of a piano on Steve’s chest as he continues:

“Тили-тили-бом!

Закрой глаза скорее

Кто-то ходит за окном и стучится в двери

Тили-тили-бом! — кричит ночная птица

Он уже пробрался в дом, к тем, кому не спится. 

He holds his gaze, a maddening shrug shakes out of his body:

“Всё скроет ночь немая

За тобой крадётся он и вот-вот поймает

Он идёт, он уже близко!

“My favorite, how you say lullaby?” He muses, drinking in the absolute terror and shocked fear embracing Steve’s body. His respiration is slow and uneven, his eyes unfocused as he listens, draped across Ozerov’s lap. 

“I’ll tell it to you in English, boy:” he pulls himself out from underneath Steve, laying next to his body, close to his ear, tears freely falling down his captive’s face. He whispers the words slowly and emphatically as a storyteller would tell a child: 

“Tili-tili-bom!

Close your eyes quickly

Someone is walking outside the window and knocking on the door”

He turns on his own back, sharing the same ceiling view as the boy next to him, the fan spiraling overhead, his tone animated as he continues. 

“Tili-tili-bom! — screams the night bird

He has already snuck into the house, to those who cannot sleep.

He stops once more, and in a low, harsh whisper he finishes:

The silent night will hide everything

He is creeping up behind you and is about to catch you.”

He is walking, he is already close!”

He sings a satisfied hymn to himself as he stands up, walking around Harrington’s struggling form. He feeds on the fear he’s instilled in the boy at the moment, regressing back into a dedicated soldier of interrogation and not the composed Colonel he’s had to be. 

He pulls on the office chairs, swinging the two around to face one another, pulling Steve up from the middle as he throws him onto the soft grey chair, his dazed expression darting around the room. He pulls out another belt, constraining him to the back of the chair, mostly to keep him upright. The groans are more desperate now, unrelenting in a chorus from his mouth. 

“Now, now we discuss what we need to, yes?” He takes a seat in the identical grey chair in front of him, a spare belt hanging limply in his hand. “If I like your answers, you can breathe again. Maybe eat. Maybe sleep. That easy, Steve.”

His face is red and pained, his eyes and head throbbing. His whole body is sending a crippling vibration of need. Need of oxygen. Need of freedom. All he can focus on is that he can’t breathe, he needs release, he needs relief.

Whatever he wants to ask?

Just keep everyone else safe. 

Keep Eleven safe.

“So… what were we doing?” He crosses his arms and Steve brings his gaze up confused, like he had to have misheard him.

“What?”

“What were we doing?”

“I’m… not.” He takes a harsh short pant in, “following.”

“I want to know what you saw and what we were doing.” A smug expression lines his face, like he knows what the answer should be.

Steve pauses between shuttered gasps, he wants to talk about the gate? Does he?

“I-don’t-know.” He hopes his eye contact is honestly implied enough. The sweat beads on his face, trailing down his neck, the fan above cooling his elevated temperature. 

Ozerov releases a series of disappointed tsk’s and moves towards his Father’s disheveled desk.

There’s  a click and a familiar voice began to echo in the room and bounce within his mind.

“Steve! It’s Dustin, uhhh just checking in dude. I’m going to give you another day and then I’m gonna stop by ok? When you get this, try to leave your door unlocked and if you’re not feeling good I’ll just hang out and make sure you’re ok. Ok? I’ll be there at like 3:00?”

He stops the message, and Steve’s face immediately gets defiant and pale. 

“Do you know how long you were asleep?” He presses the fabric of his borrowed shirt down, Steve’s breaths are held in anxious anticipation. “Well over 24 hours. He left that message yesterday. He wants to stop by today? Should we let him?”

Steve eyes the clock in the room, red lines illuminating a time of 2:45.

“No-“ he wheezes in a whisper, his eyes watering. The panic overflows him. Not Dustin. “Please-no.” He tries to shift anyway he can, clawing his way out of the chair but he can’t, he slumps further, less oxygen, a choked sob escaping him.

“What were we doing?”

Dustin. He has to protect Dustin. He already knows, he knows what he saw. Just say it.

“The gate.” He pants, hanging his head down, defeated, he has to protect Dustin, protect everyone “opening-the gate.” 

“And you know about the gate.”

He looks up at the man, with hardened eyes.

“Yes. I do.”

A sparkle enters the eyes of his captor.

Ozerov approaches Steve, unbuckling the belt, holding his bound hands up to his own face, he drags a knife from his trouser hem, cutting open the tape on his wrists. With a loud rip, his wrists are free, and raw. He throws him back on the chair, pleased.

“The door is unlocked. When he comes you have three minutes to make him leave or-“

“Don’t-take-him.” Wheezing he pleads, rubbing his wrists feverishly.

“No. Steve, he dies.” It’s said so calmly and as a matter of fact that all Harrington can do is collapse his head into his unbound hands, beginning to try to pull at his chest bindings, almost as a reflex- but then a knife is now pointing at his chest as he continues to panic both inward and outward.

“No, that stays. We are not done. Now. You make him leave.” Steve nods agreeing over and over again, he attempts to stand upon his gesture to do so but nearly collapses again to pain and exhaustion.

“Come Тряпичная кукла, it won’t be so bad. Save his life.” Another choke escapes Steve’s body, as Ozerov once more lifts him, pulling him out of the room. “What- does-“ he gasps, what is he calling him. “Russian-word-“

“Rag doll. You are my rag doll.” He pulls his pliable form closer into him, nearly limp and terrified. He screams from the pressure being placed on his injuries, his head snapped in a curious disbelief. “Ozerov’s Ragdolls, they called them all, before I was colonel. My reputation.” He lets out a chuckle, “swaddle the babydoll.” The older man grins like he’s reminiscing on joyful times and inside jokes. With a grin he puts his hands against the tear tracks of his prisoner, wiping them off with rough skin. “Pull yourself together.” He comments.

A knock on the door pulls their attention away, Ozerov’s hunger, Steve's desperation. He pushes the boy against the hallway wall at the top of the steps.

“3 minutes.” He motions to his gun. “Then boom.”

Steve holds the railing at the top step with white knuckles as the door slowly opens, illuminating the dark and quiet home.

“Steve?”

Rushing up the steps, the older boy barely has time to brace himself as he’s knocked into by Dustin. Holding in a pained sob and choke, he wraps his arms around the boy, hoping to fold him as far into him as humanly possible to shield him, a timer is already dwindling.

Russian translation:

Не будь ребенком!: don’t be a child

Ириска: butterscotch

Тряпичная кукла: rag doll

Lullaby:

Тили-тили-бом!

Закрой глаза скорее

Кто-то ходит за окном и стучится в двери

Тили-тили-бом! — кричит ночная птица

Он уже пробрался в дом, к тем, кому не спится. 

Всё скроет ночь немая

За тобой крадётся он и вот-вот поймает

Он идёт, он уже близко!

Tili-tili-bom!

Close your eyes quickly

Someone is walking outside the window and knocking on the door

Tili-tili-bom! — screams the night bird

He has already snuck into the house, to those who cannot sleep.

The silent night will hide everything

He is creeping up behind you and is about to catch you

He is walking, he is already close!

Chapter Text

“Hey-Dustin.” He keeps his head up towards the ceiling, hoping his tears can fall back into his eyes, soaking back into himself. He’s trying to disguise any panting, strategically holding his breath.

Big eyes pour into him. Dustin’s grip is iron clad, desperate.

“How bad is it? I can tell it’s bad.” He’s looking up at the older teen, concern painted on his face.

“It’s kinda bad, bud.” He releases a heavy pant. “I-talked to Owen’s-Dr.” He inhales nervously and sharply, he hates lying to the kid. “He’s on his way.”

The shorter boy grips deeper into Steve as he releases a pained gasp.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault again.” He weeps into his tee shirt, as Steve pulls him back.

“No.” He chokes again, he knows he has to send him away. “No-“ finding words is harder now, he’s trying to count but lost the number, he’s losing him, he can feel him trying to hold on and sentence him to death. “No, bud. Please.” Pulling him closer, he lets out a pained groan. “I’m going, give me a few days, ok? I-have-to-go.” He pulls him off, memorizing his face. This tween who changed his life, cares for him and is like a brother. “Go, Please?”

Dustin looks up at him, slightly confused. The hairs on his neck stick up. He takes in the teen and his pathetic gate, concern now plastered over his face. 

“Steve, are you-?”

“I will be. Go. I have- to-go soon.” He plays off a wheeze as he holds Dustin’s shoulder, the raw wrist painted red in pain from the movement. Dustin eyes his wrist, like it's a blaring alarm.

He steadys himself on the railing, watching Dustin retreat and go out the door, one last look before shutting the door. Steve sends a reassuring smile. 

Once the sound of the door closing completes he releases a short choking pant, followed by a pained sob, as tears flow out of his eyes, he pulls both arms to the railing in an attempt to grasp himself. He heaves repeatedly, tears leaking and falling like droplets onto the carpet. He sways and crashes down onto the top step, his legs giving way. Blinking away the static becomes impossible, the grey of the dim house filling his periphery. He is going to pass out.

He hears Ozerov approach him from the hallway, he moves swiftly down the steps, locking the three locks once more before retreating back up the steps, stopping before Steve’s splayed out form.

“He lives.” He mock cheers, and Steve isn't sure if he’s referring to Dustin or him, or both.

Pulling Steve’s form towards him, he lifts him up into a holding pose. The boys’ form is numb and useless, cradled against The Russian between heavy breaths. He recognizes a panic attack, and strokes his unfocused face. He begins to rock him on the steps, a gun in his hand, pressed against his side.

“Shhh, shhh, you saved him.”

He can smell his Father’s cologne on the man, the detergent of the expensive dress shirts he’s wearing, and for a moment he wonders in his hysteria if it’s actually his Father showing affection.  A burning sensation has begun to spread over his torso. Steve wants to allow himself to enter that darkness his vision invites him to. He wants to swim in the darkness once more, leave this pain, this harsh place. 

He feels the motion of Ozerov placing the gun down beside him, moving his hand towards his face once more.

He struggles against the prodding fingers looking to access his mouth, a laugh escaping the mouth of the man. The surprise in his eyes, locking with his tormentor. Why is he doing this? He’s back awake more fully, the assault on his mouth forcing a choke and gag from Steve, his inhales are sharp and painful, finding air somewhere between his lungs and Ozerov’s fingers. 

The older man is pleased and aroused at the terrified look spreading over his face. He quiets him as he tries to speak and relent. Steve’s eyes want to pull down, he wants to dive back into unconsciousness, he’s done enough. Dustin left, he’s safe.

“No, no. Wake up.” He pulls him closer, his fingers slipping out. “Come, let’s continue, there is more to discuss.” His prisoner moans, his choking sobs and wet coughs continue as he’s lifted fully upward, slowly he’s carried back against the Russian’s form guiding him into the office, the door shut and locked behind them. 

Dustin and Lucas sit in the Wheeler basement, Mike pacing.

“I just want to be there for her, you know?” He looks between the two boys. “I mean, it’s a huge loss for all of us.” He takes the seat between the two boys on the sofa. They sit stunned and exhausted. It’s only been two days since the events of Starcourt and while everyone else in Hawkins is fine thinking it’s the mall fire that’s destroyed the gathering space, the party knows better. 

“Max is being hot and cold.” Lucas vents. “I know she just lost Billy and it’s been two days but-”

“Dude, he got impaled by the Mind Flayer.” Dustin interjects. “Impaled.”

“Alright.” Dustin sits up. “I’m gotta go check on Steve.”

“Dustin, he hasn’t answered his phone, or called you back, are you sure he wants you to just-”

“Yes, Mike, he does.” He stands up to walk out of the basement. “He got his ass kicked again, because of this shit, this time by a foreign country, I’m going to check on him and make sure he’s not dead.”

“Nancy said she was going to leave him a message about Hopper’s memorial, I think, and the meeting Owens wants to have with everyone this week.”

“More NDAs” Lucas laughs. “Great.”

“Gotta keep the story of the mall fire alive.” Mike pipes, they look at Dustin as he grabs his backpack and heads to leave.

“Tell Steve I hope he feels better.” Lucas adds, Mike nodding in agreement.

Dustin thinks back to how easy yesterday morning seemed like it was going to be.

Riding his bike back from Steve’s left him unsettled all day. When he woke up today it was the same dragging feeling.

He had a feeling he should have stayed and made sure he was taken to the Dr. ok. His eyes seemed so glassy, his face pale, the bruising a rich palette in his skin, his wrists so red. Dustin was sure he was going to pass out on him right then. But it also seemed like Steve needed him to go. 

He was getting ready to leave himself, right?

He tries to think back to that night, he had been the one untying him, were his wrists that red? He tries to push down whatever uncomfortable feeling is beginning to surface. Maybe it was just delayed bruising? It has to be, right? Does he go back?

Around the library he spots Robin entering the building and an idea crosses his mind.

Steve feels himself coming to once more, after diving in and out of consciousness since Dustin’s brief visit. He wonders if it was real. Any inhalation is slow and drawn out. The desire to rip off the bindings on his chest is overwhelming, but he learns his hands are back to being tied down not by duct tape but by the belts that have returned around his waist and arms around the chair. Noticing Ozerov in his Father’s desk chair, he’s on the phone, various Russian phrases being spilled out:

“Актив содержится” 

He’s writing down notes on a pad of paper, once he sees his audience has returned, he abruptly ends the conversation and places the receiver back on the line.

“Are you back now, Ириска?” 

He approaches the boy, feeling his head. “You are getting fevers.” He mutters disappointed. “Let’s tell the truth again, so we can make you better, yes?”

Steve nods in agreement. He’ll get as far as he can with this, before putting anyone else in danger.

“The gates.” He moves to the desk, sitting against the edge, looking down at his captives' desperate form. “Tell me what you know.”

“I-know.” He gasps. “You were opening one.” He hangs his head up high, releases a pained groan.

“More.”

“Other rip-dimensions.” He mutters, trying to keep eye contact as his vision fades in and out. He thinks of the gate and what comes through them he thinks of the demogorgon, that first interaction with him floods his memory. Running, the gasoline smell, the rip in the Beyers ceiling. He continues, mutters one word “…Beasts.”

He stands up at the mentions of the beasts, nearly foaming at the mouth.

“The beasts, yes.”

“The bat, I-I” He swings his head down violently. “I-can’t-breathe-”

“No- Tell me more, now.” He shakes his bound shoulders, forcing him to focus on him, desperate.

“I fought-them.” Somehow he allows his eyes to show strength at him, “The bat.” He lets out a violent cough. “They make gates-The woods-My pool.” 

“The beasts do?”

Suddenly, Harrington’s head lolls yes and immediately falls to the side, exhausted and used up. He coughs up and the mucus drooled out and is tinged red with blood.

The wheels in the Russian’s head begin to turn, he shifts to the window, looking out the window down to the pool, he rushes to his papers, writing notes feverishly, as Steve continues to release labored gasps while now unconscious.

The Russian approaches the boy once more, taking his knife, he tears through the teeshirt, the belts and uses the sharp metal to tear through the ace bandage, finally freeing the chest of his prey.

Steve releases a loud gasp, the freedom from the pressure immediate and jarring. He inhales deeply, pain still in his chest, but a subtle relief and more lung ability to breathe. Ozerov looks at the ripped tee and unwound bandage giving way to green, red, and purple splotches on his torso, signs of infection. 

He pulls Steve up by the arms, walking him back to his parent’s bedroom. He is still attempting to catch his breath in longer intervals. He pulls him to the bed, as Steve freely falls onto the soft mattress, his eyes already falling closed once more. There is a layer of sweat covering his body, his fever evident. “Please…help me” he begs, delirious. He quiets the boy more, moving the hair from his forehead, feeling the warmth of his temperature once more. He moves to the large leather bag, pulling out a glass vile once more, filling a needle with its contents.

“Тряпичная кукла” He purrs to himself, injecting him slowly in the neck with the liquid. He merely flinches, and after Ozerov discards the needle to the end table reaching over Steve’s stilled form, he once again looks out the window at the pool below.

He hears yet another message on the phone come through and he’s made a decision this location won’t be safe for much longer. He’s finally getting somewhere with the boy, he’s not done yet.

It’s time to move them. 

“Robin!” He’s met directly with a “shhh” as he bolts towards the previously employed scooper. 

“Dustin?” 

He jumps into her arms, she hasn’t seen him since they bolted from Weather Top and towards a certain blue Camaro. She’s happy to see him smiling but grows concerned as he pulls back and tugs at her wrists.

He looks at her.

She meets his eyes.

“Admiring my small reminder of government torture?” She says with humor. Her wrists are reddened and bruised but subtle unlike the garish bruising and redness that masked Steve’s wrists just yesterday.

“Have you talked to Steve?”

“No, and honestly he owes me a call back already- he promised to fill me in on EVERYTHING and guess what-“

“Come on-“

“What is it?”

“We need to talk to Mrs. Beyers and Owens.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re supposed to be meeting at Will’s to talk to Dr. Owens, Steve was supposed to tell you.”

He runs from her grabbing his walkie talkie.

“Are we still meeting at Will’s, over?”

The librarian goes to shhh him, but robins continues to follow as Dustin motions away from the stacks of books expecting her to follow.

“Yeah, Nancy is driv-“

“Library now, someone get me and Robin.”

“Why, what’s going-?”

“Is Owen’s at the Beyer’s yet?”

“Yeah, he just got here.” Will chimes in.

“Robin and I need a ride from the library NOW.”

“Dustin, what’s wrong?”

“I have a bad feeling.” He looks up at Robin, he motions to her wrists, “I was over there yesterday, he looked worse than he should, he said he was going to Owen’s Dr but his wrists.” He pulls at Robin’s wrist, “Not like this, worse, raw. Fresh.” He goes to his walkie again. “I need an ETA for me and Robin, please?”

Ten minutes later Jonathan pulls up to the duo, instructing them to get into his car.

They arrive at the Beyers and exit the car, the rest of the party minus Max and Steve are already accounted for.

“Dustin, what’s going-“ Mike is curious at Dustin’s plowing through the house.

“Where’s Dr. Owens.” He plows past everyone, determined.

Inside he finds Dr. Owens by Joyce, a file in her hand. He approaches the Dr, who takes a step back from the forward child before him.

“Is Steve Harrington with your Doctor?”

Owens looks down at him confused.

“Steve? Not that I am aware of, I know last year he saw one of my-“

“But he’s not now, is he?”

“Son, I can-“

He notices a plastic bag on the counter with various items from Hopper left behind under the mall. He points to the bag.

“Steve’s things- did you find them?”

“What?”

“The Russians, Steve was taken and tortured and drugged. They took his keys and his wallet, did they recover it down there like Hopper’s things?”

“Now, just slow down. What’s going on, no we didn’t find anything else-?” Owen’s grabs Dustin’s shoulders, looking at his short frantic stature, trying to calm him. Everyone gathers in the living room, eyes on Dustin. 

“Find. Steve. Harrington.” He breaths. “I think he’s in trouble.” Everyone looks confused. “I saw him yesterday, he looked bad- worse than he should be from when I saw him after the mall. His wrists were bright red and raw like he was bound and-. He told me it was bad and he was going to your doctor.” He points to Dr. Owens. “What if he’s not ok, and they have him.”

“Who?” Lucas asks.

“The Russians!”

“He’s in pretty bad shape you say? From what happened at the mall?” Owens repeats. Dustin nods. “Ok, I’ll send someone there to check on him, ok? I’ll put a call out to the hospital too, maybe he went there. If he’s good to come, I’ll bring him here, or if he needs a Doctor we’ll get him one, alright?”

He sends a message, with Dustin in his shadow. “While we wait for that, I have some pressing matters to discuss with Mrs. Beyers, ok?”

He nods. 

Robin feels uncomfortable in the room, watching the boys argue about Dustin's overreacting and Mike and Will are hanging outside a door, patiently waiting it seems. That must be where Eleven is.

Nancy and Jonathan seem in their own world, a short, heated conversation or argument between the two. She storms outside as Robin and Jonathan hold eyes, he gives a simple wave. 

He goes to follow Nancy but stops and approaches Robin instead.

“Welcome to the insanity.” He jokes.

“Oh, so it is a club? Do I need a membership? Do we get matching jackets?”

“Only at a gold level membership.”

“Is that how Steve got his members only jacket?”

They both share a laugh and he sighs heavily. 

“Is he ok?”

“Who? Steve? I have no idea. He was supposed to fill me in but he hasn’t even called me back and according to Dustin he’s ready to fall over at home, so I. don’t. know.” She kicks her foot. “This is all still pretty wild for me.”

“The first time he saw a demogorgon-“

“A what?”

“Wow, you are really out of the loop-“

“That’s an understatement. Its like I jumped into this movie from a completely separate movie and I can’t follow the plot.”

“So it’s this insane monster from the upside down- Nancy and I baited it to try to help my brother and Hopper and Mom.” He laughs, “he freaked out so bad- and it fell out of the ceiling!” He holds her eye contact, “we fought it off together at first, Nancy tried to make him leave after that, pulled a gun-“

“What! A gun!”

“I know- but he left.  But then he came right back and whacked the thing with this nail bat we made, and he saved us. Saved our lives.

“Look, last year. This thing took my brother to the place called the upside down, it’s where that gate you saw in the mall leads to. Where the mind flayer is from, and the other beasts, we, Steve have fought.”

“So he can win fights against interdimensional monsters, but humans are trickier?”

“Yup.” Jonathan laughs, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “And even if he is in trouble, it’s Steve-“

Soon the walkies static comes over from Owen’s:

“Harrington Home is clear, no one is there.”

Dustin bursts in on Joyce, Owen’s serious demeanor.  “Can you check your doctors?” The transmission echoing once more.

Owen’s keeps eye contact with Dustin. He sighs. He reads the desperation in the boy, and decides not to take a chance.

“Intercept all messages going out. Filter all commie transmissions mentioning assets, hostage, usual captive vocab and any extractions planned. We have a possible hostage, kidnapping scenario playing out. Possible Victim: Steve Harrington.”

“Would he tell them about Eleven?” Mike steps into the conversation. “Dustin- would he-“

“Steve. won’t.” Dustin pleads. “He won’t.” But Robin and Dustin exchanged a painfully aware look, remembering the drug's effects before. 

“We have to protect El!” Mike jumps up, Dustin immediately on the defense.

“We all are becoming casualties, Mike! It can't just be about protecting Eleven or Will anymore, it’s all of us. We’re all involved. We’re all at risk as we’re learning pretty well right now.”

Chapter Text

A haze covers his eyes as he opens them, there’s minimal light in the room, he’s laid on a bed, a tugging on his arm. The room is grey, dark and there’s a chill in the air. His limbs feel like lead and he feels a cold pressure pressed against his torso on the left. As he reaches, he can feel the cold against the blanket covering him. An ice pack.

Is he at Owen’s Doctor? 

When did he move?

Breathing feels improved, he taps the tube extending from his arm, it itches. 

There’s nothing in the room, no windows, just this bed, the IVs connected to his body and him.

Outside noise subtly begins coming into focus, various voices coming from beyond a door. He can’t follow any of the words or conversations. Pulling at the fabric of the blanket over him he recognizes the striped pattern of his parent’s comforter. Petting the fabric more, memories begin to resurface, his Father’s suits, his chest constricted, painful breathing, talking about the gates and then demogorgons… Henderson. He swears kept him safe, right?

Max? His Father? Getting into that car.

Was that real? He can hear her still.

“Steve?”

His Father had insisted they had to go to the hospital. He recalls pulling on him as he held him up and out of the house, Max pulling the blanket with them.

He was sick.

He couldn’t breathe.

He looks at his wrists, a glaring red against both pale arms. The sound of tape stretching echoes in his ears. The uncomfortable feeling sinking into his mind. Here isn’t safe, is it?

As the door opens he’s given his answer as he’s faced with Colonel Ozerov once more.

“Sorry for the change of scenery.” He shuts the door behind him, “you needed a doctor.” 

Steve shifts in the bed, the man begins to close the distance between the two.

“You’ve been given medicine for the infection and pain.” He circles, approaching the IV bag near him. “Are you feeling better?”

He nods cautiously in response, determined to not speak. He doesn’t want to ask questions. He doesn’t want to know answers.

Why? Why help him?

Owens is trying to maintain the unexpected situation while trying to handle the other pressing issue at hand, Eleven.

“Joyce, can we-“

She’s distracted by the shut door but pulls her attention back to Sam.

“I know what you’re suggesting Sam, I do.”

“It’s the best chance for her, it’s what Jim would have wanted.”

“I know. A fresh start for her.”

“For all of you.”

She sighs heavily, wiping several tears from her eyes. She practically shouts the next statement.

“We have to settle the first thing, ok? Find Steve, and make sure he’s safe and then I can put the attention back on if I’m going to uproot our whole lives to move to California, ok?”

Lucas and Mike exchange alarmed looks. Mike looks about ready to blow up on the two adults in front of him, Lucas grabbing his arm and gently pulling him out of the room.

“California, Lucas- California-“

“Man, just settle down.”

“We just lost Hopper and now they’re just going to-“

“Mike, stop. This isn’t about us-“

“How is it not about all of us Lucas- what just because Hopper’s gone they all just have to what- GO? Leave US?”

“Did you want to rest more?” Ozerov places a hand on Steve’s leg, his voice filled with paternal concern, “I can send food in if you’re feeling up for it.” He gestures to make a motion showing he can make it happen. He snaps a finger and soon they’re joined by a soldier in wait at the door.

The teen remains silent, unsure about what’s happening. Is he mistaken or wasn’t this guy just torturing him for days, typing him up, gagging him?

“W-where are we?” Is the only string of words he can manage to get out. His voice is strained and weak. His head is still in fog, and he thinks given the two options he wants to rest more. The ice feels comforting against his chest.

The colonel ignores his question and moves towards the back of the empty room once more. “More rest then.” He dismisses the soldier. Before the door shuts him out once more, the Russian turns back, “we will eat later then, yes.” Steve groggily nods in agreement, slouching back into the pillows, tugging the comforter back up. 

Harrington knows he’s in no position to fight back right now, just keep as many of them safe as he can. That’s his goal. His eyes begin falling again. He has no restraints on him currently. He’s of no trouble to them right now, is he? He knows his body is currently wrecked. The exhaustion is holding tight onto him, dragging him under endlessly. 

A thought crosses his mind, the next time he wakes up he could be in pain again. Constriction. He pulls a hand to his ribs, the memory causing a phantom pain in his chest. Now he’s in a foreign place, not his home. The chances of being saved just dwindled significantly. He pushes the tears back and instead allows the fumes of his exhaustion to coddle him back into comfort and darkness.

Dustin, and Robin stake out the empty Harrington house.

The two agents who searched the home stand by the door, allowing the two to run through and see if anything looks suspicious.

“The office looks ransacked.” The one mentioned as Dustin speeds right up there.

Robin follows behind, several paces behind, taking in the space she’s into.

“I knew his family was loaded but sheesh this is more than I even expected.”

She watches as Henderson pours over the contents of the office, he notices the chairs being situated across from one another. Then he sees the answering machine. That’s usually downstairs, he moved it. The number 8 is blinking on the dial.

Dustin presses play.

He hears the voices of himself, Robin, and Nancy over days including one from his parents extending their summer plans by another week.

“There’s vomit in the main room, blood evident.” The agents are speaking to one another, Robin and Dustin pause.

“What’s all this about?” Henderson is startled to hear Max at the door of the office, looking at the agents bagging things and overhearing the remaining messages.

“What’s going on?” She repeats. 

“We can’t find Steve.” Robin breaks the news as softly as she can to the tween who is already going through enough. Her eyes are already puffy, evidence of non sleep. Max’s face twists looking at the two of them.

“He’s at the hospital. His Dad was taking him yesterday, he looked like he was gonna kneel over. Completely out of it. Is it something more than just being beat up again?” She says the first part so matter of fact, the agents look at one another for a minute almost frustrated like they’ve been wasting their time.

“See, the kid was over reacting.” The one states, preparing to call Owens.

“Wait- no. Max, what?” Dustin’s trying to navigate the confusion happening right now. Max is looking between Dustin and Robin, convinced they’re overreacting.

“His Dad, well dressed, not very conversational. He basically had to carry Steve to the car. He was bringing this ridiculously large blanket.”

“Ok, so can you go over it with us, Max. Exactly what you saw? Did you talk to them?”

She nods almost sarcastically, “I wanted to see how Steve was doing, it had been a few days and I needed a break from home so I skated over. As I-“

“What time was this?”

“It was yesterday around like 9am.”

“That was early-“ Robin stated.

“It’s been funeral planning all week, not exactly- anyway. So I come by and the door is wide open and his Dad had just shut the trunk and his BMW has the passenger door wide open-“

“His car-“

“Yes, Dustin. So I head to the door and his Dad is there helping Steve get down the steps and he- he stops and looks at me. Probably like why is this 13 year old girl in my house-“

“Have you ever met his Dad before, Max?” 

“Have you, Dustin?” That’s the answer, no.

“Anyway, he was really out of it and barely awake. He looked really pale and sweaty, his hair was matted down.”

She recalls him grasping the man for dear life, his breathing shallow, his eyes unfocused. To be honest, she was concerned about seeing him that way. She doesn’t want to think about it. 

“But his Dad said he was taking him to the hospital.”

“Max, his parents called. They’re not home, not for another two-three days.”

“Well, maybe Steve called and said he needed help-“

“Steve hasn’t called anyone back, Max.” Robin informs her.

“What are you saying, I watched him get abducted and just helped?”

The decision to leave was an easy one for Ozerov. There were more messages being left and only time before someone would come by. The boy's state was a mess, the infection from his injuries beginning to make him delirious, a fever spiking. The sedative would keep him quiet but he needed more information.

The Russian was sure when he saw his face that day there was more to his answers than working at a stupid ice cream shop. As a Colonel he was seasoned in intelligence and interrogation. He trained others in the art of manipulation and deflection and this kid was an amateur. His gut rarely was wrong when it came to information withholding. And he knew he had information. 

That’s why when the alarms blared and they began their escape, Ozerov decided on his own mission. The normal protocol for extraction would move forward and he would join them, but not before he got what he now needed. To break the boy and unearth everything he knew.

He took the keys and information and made himself at home that night. The suits in the main room fit him well, he’d pack a few for himself. He showered, shaved fresh and dosed himself in the cologne on the dresser. He felt good. Then he made his way to the boy’s room and was curious about a certain weapon by his bed. The hairs on the back of his neck jumped up, bulls eye.

Constructing his ribs and breathing was always a favored technique for him, gagging and choking the boy awake, painful, uncomfortable and begging for air. Just what he deserves. To be treated like a ragdoll. To stalk and cause him pain, it brought him back to his early days as a soldier, feared.

The infection spreading happened faster than he anticipated and the fever spiking was unexpected. Information was beginning to flow from him and he needed to keep the communication going. He knows about the beasts. He survived all

Of those beasts. Not an easy feat. He was more valuable than he initially anticipated.

He walked to the bed once more. 

He packed up his things and packed them into the vehicle out front. It was early in the morning but he wasn’t worried about appearing out of the ordinary. He could play the part, he looked the part in the suit. It would be fine.

He approached the bed to get Steve. As he opened his eyes, they were bloodshot, his one still swollen but coming down. 

“Dad?” His form was weak, his voice equally weak, sad, desperate. The focus is in his eyes, not there. He looked past him, but reached an arm for the older man. Was he in a dream? A hallucination.

“Dad, please.” His breathing shallow,

“I’m sorry.”

Maybe he could use this to his advantage, leaning down he stroked the bruised cheek of the boy, he watched as his eyes tear and his face breaks in slow motion.

He lets out a shocked sob, and the Colonel places his hand to his forehead, gingerly.

“Son… what happened?”

“I need help.” He murmurs, quiet, desperate. “Please.”

“I will help you, but you have to tell me everything, yes?” Ozerov cups his face in both of his hands. Steve closes his eyes and folds his face further into his hands, nodding. “Come, we will get you help.”

He reaches under him, pulling him up. The Russian knows he needs actual medical attention, he would take him to the Farm, then he would decide what to do with him after he’s satisfied he’s taken everything he needs from the boy.

Steve nearly collapsed in his arms, his skin sweaty and hot to the touch. They somehow make it down the steps and they are stopped by a child in the doorway. He was able to deter her without alerting her to anything, she was oblivious to his true identity. She even went and grabbed the large comforter for him to put on him in the car as he requested. She wished them luck. He was surprised how easy that was to navigate.

The car ride to the farm unearthed more information as Steve continued to think the man was his Father.

“Barb, she died in the pool, the demogorgon got her. It was my fault.” He sniffs and tears fall from his eyes.

“Then it was the dogs, the next year. So many of them.” He mumbles. He’s fading again.

“Son, the gate-“ he wants to know more.

“Cut off the brain, the body dies.” He repeats the phrase a few times, his voice weakening each time as he says it.

“What does that mean, Steven?”

“They all die if the gate is closed” he sobs. “We closed it again, we had to.”

“Who is we?”

Before the boy can answer he’s out cold again.

At the farm, their doctor started him on a strong antibiotic and pain medicine. He responded well, and they began to address his broken and bruised ribs as well. He watches as he now rests comfortable in a room alone. Locking the door, he makes his way to the assets nearby. A large cage and cars wait for transportation. A soldier brings him a familiar bat, he holds it looking at the immobile beasts in the containers before him. 

There’s still so much to know. They can open dimensions. What else can they do?

Chapter Text

“You can’t stay for your senior year?” Nancy is panicked for a multitude of reasons. “I mean, ok- I understand your mom’s thought process-“

“It would be one year apart for us, Nance- then we can do whatever we want- east coast-“

“Emerson. We can meet up and do Emerson.” She concludes. “It’s where I’m planning to go, we can live in Boston- they have a photography program there-“

“Boston?” Jonathan doesn’t sound so sure but watching Nancy do the mental gymnastics is filling his guilt even further. She understands he can’t leave them right now. But … his dreams.

Soon the door swings open as Dustin, Robin and Max re-enter.

“Did you find Steve, is he ok?” Nancy grabs Jonathan’s arm. Her mind is being pulled in fifteen directions, the information overload is just that- an overload.

“I apparently just let him get kidnapped!” Max huffs as she stalks into the room, Lucas shoots her a confused look as they move towards another room, he can see she needs to talk. 

Dustin looks to the couple and shrugs his shoulders as Robin awkwardly finds a seat next to Mike on the sofa. 

“Who are you again?”

Dustin rolls his eyes, Robin pulls her lips into a thin line.

“Where’s Dr. Owens?” Dustin asks, Mike points to the door just beyond where Will is laying in wait outside.

“Ok, so you-“ Dr. Owen’s points to Max, “say you helped him into his car-“

“Yes.” She confirms.

“And you-“ he points to Dustin, “say his parents called and are away so it couldn’t be his Father-“

“Yes.” Dustin confirms, slightly more stern than Max had.

“You said he looked sick and his Father said he was taking him to a hospital for help.”

“Yes” Max confirms, sending a slightly annoyed look to Dustin. “I have never met his Father, what was I supposed to think, Dustin!”

An agent hands a paper over to Owen’s, who looks at it a moment before showing it to Max.

“Was this the man you saw?”

The black and white image showed an older man, dark, well managed hair, and unmistakably inherited eyes. Below the obvious license image is typed out Harrington, Daniel S.

Max goes pale, looking between Dustin Owen’s frantically as her eyes begin to water. Of course she fucked this up. She just let someone take Steve, and she helped. She shakes her head no, running out of the house as fast as she can.

Owens lets out an exasperated sigh, looking at Dustin, who appears satisfied they’re finally on the same page. 

“Ok, so where do we start?” The kid puts his hands on his hips, looking around at everyone in the room. Lucas rushes out the door towards Max, Will and Mike exchange a panicked expression as Nancy and Jonathan approach Dustin and Owens.

“So we know he’s missing and likely being held captive-“ Owens recaps.

“And sick and hurt-“ Nancy interjects.

“I’m going to be honest with you, we’re still gathering our intelligence from the Starcourt base itself and what was salvaged. I have men filtering through it. We have no knowledge where any other base of operations could be. Or if this is just a rogue operation targeting Steve.”

“But why target only Steve?” Nancy asks.

“The Russians took his wallet and keys, it was an easy target to lock in after the breach.”

“But which breach?” Robin joins the central group, frustrated and confused. She wants to help. “When you and Erica broke us out, Dustin? Or when the three very well meaning adults went in to shut down the big machine tearing a rip between dimensions?”

“And we can’t assume they only had one location, they were able to retreat- they have to be somewhere-“ Dustin theorizes, beginning to pace the floor.

“That’s because they didn’t.” This time it’s Joyce who joins the conversation. “There was another location Hop and I were at. It’s where we found Alexie.”

All attention now stands to Mrs Beyers. She looks around surprised and Owens has no idea what she means.

“Hess Farm.”

Owens wastes no time assembling a team to breach the Hess Farm location. As they approach the winding road to the location they witness the farmhouse itself engulfed in flames, as a small plane takes off in the distance. Another fire, another wreck. 

Owens looks in his rear view mirror at Dustin and Robin, both who insisted on coming and their disbelief being held in their eyes. This doesn’t look good. Steve could be en route to Russia, or some other alternative location, or he could be dead in that blaze inside. Sam pauses before even trying to comfort the teen and child in the back seat.

Robin sniffles, her eyes wide and watering. This was not how she anticipated this to end. She had just told him who she was, really. They had already survived, he was supposed to survive.

She thinks to the past few weeks, how she hated working with him at first to him growing on her. She liked working with him. She liked Steve Harrington as a person. She made sure they worked together. 

The car stops in front of the house, smoke and embers filling the air. Cracks and small bursts echo outside as the structure begins to lose its form. 

Dustin stares at the remains, charring and dancing in the night air. The flames twist and sing in the wind. This wasn’t supposed to be how this goes. He was supposed to find him, save him. 

Soon Nancy comes and grasps his arm, tears in her own eyes pouring down.

“He could have been on the plane.” Owens offers. But that as an alternative isn’t even hopeful. It’s worse case scenario vs. worse case scenario.

Jonathan holds onto Nancy as he begins looking around the farm, to his left near the edge of the property he sees a familiar maroon BMW, and a hunched figure searching the ground, he seems rushed or oblivious or dazed.

“You’ve got to be- Nancy.” He pulls her attention to the location just off her periphery letting a disbelieving laugh escape and she immediately grasps her hand to her mouth. She pulls Dustin’s head around. He lets out an immediate scream and begins running towards the still oblivious figure. Jonathan nudges Robin who finally sees the figure in the shadows, a certain teen they just feared was gone for good.

“STEVE!”

Dustin screams as it calls Dr. Owen’s attention directly over.

Dustin is jumping and dashing as fast as he can.

Steve stops and looks out ahead of him, he can only see silhouettes approaching him but knows Dustin’s voice and releases a breath he had been holding for what feels like days. The boy collapses into him and he lets them both fall to the ground and into the grass.

“You son of a bitch! How are you! What happened! We thought you were gone!” Steve lets out a pained grunt as Dustin rolls off him. He pulls his wrists, seeing the bruising on them still, taking in as much of the teen as he can in the darkness. He notices his breathing is irregular, his face pale, the swollen eye less swollen and his busted lip healing. He notices bruising up and down his arms, but he pulls Dustin in tight as they lay in the grass by his car. He closes his eyes, adrenaline threatening to leave him for the safety of Dustin being here.

“He let me-go.” He finally pants out. “I don’t know why, but he did.” Their group begins to surround him and he looks up at all of them as they stare at him, astonished.

“They-they left for Russia. They took them.” 

“Took what, Steve?”

Not even waiting for reactions he grips Dustin tighter. Steve wants to melt and break apart, relief washing over him. His nightmare is finally over. 

Rewind however many hours before and he’s still in that concrete room in a bed with his parents' comforter, connected to an IV. 

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

His head throbbed, but compared to days prior it felt manageable. There was no hot spike, there was no vice pressing his chest inward, suffocating him. Limbs finally had feeling again. His breathing almost feels regulated, but he feels a hitch every few minutes.

The door slowly opens and he’s face to face with the Russian Colonel once more. He strides in, observing the teen’s form as he approaches him, he allows the man to turn his head as he inspects him. He reaches for his hand twists it, noticing the bruising across his wrists.

“You’re being smart.” His voice slightly echoes off the walls, “no fight.”

The doors open again and inside a table and two chairs are brought. Another soldier comes in, gripping Steve’s arm, unhooking him from the IV. He runs his arm from the discomfort and watches as food is placed in two settings on the table before them. They round off phrases in Russian he can’t follow and just watches from the bed. Soon the soldiers leave and Ozerov takes a seat at one end of the table, gesturing to him to follow. 

He pushes the comforter off and swings his feet down off the bed. He finds his legs have more strength than they have the past few days and somehow can manage his way to the table. Before him is a cheese burger and fries. Water and a Dr Pepper before him. It smells amazing and he’s starving. 

He pulls it up to his mouth, and pauses. Ozerov notices and rolls his eyes, taking the burger from his hand and takes a bite, handing it back.

“See.” He says between a chew. “No poison.” The man immediately then brings his own focus back to his own meal, a steak, potatoes and some green vegetables. “You’ve been sick, you need to build strength.” The knife scraping the plate bounces off around Steve's head. Is this some new manipulation? Torture him and now coddle him, help him?  

Harrington can handle about half the burger before he has to stop, a wave of dizziness hitting him. Maybe he moved too fast, ate too fast. Maybe the situation is still alarming to him, the in and out of consciousness messing with his sense of time and ability to process anything remotely relative. 

“You were very upset, very sick.” The Russian begins, eyes focused on his meal, not bringing his gaze to the boy in front of him just yet. “You thought I was your Father.” He laughs. “Maybe it was the clothes, they are very nice.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin and finally meets Steve, a glint in his eye like he has a secret to show him. A tug of his mouth and a smile between chews. It unnerves the teen, an apprehension growing inside. The meal, the medicine, the non binding. He has to feel he has some upper hand on him, and he has something, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s here. He has something for him, for Steve.

It’s why he brought him here and why he’s not just dead.

“Мы здесь закончили.” The Russian casually commands, soldiers coming into the room clearing the table, removing the furniture as well. Steve stands in the room, looking around confused about what to do.  Ozerov adjusts his outfit, watching the things be removed and stalks over to Steve. “Are you well?” He sees him standing well. “Come, let’s talk.” 

Steve follows. Outside of the room is the appearance of a house, a kitchen, an empty living space. They move towards what appears to be another bedroom and inside two soldiers lift the bed to reveal a set of stairs. 

He follows the man below, and he’s met with another secret base. Grey walls, computers and more green vials of sludge.  Many boxes are being packed and moved in a hurry. 

“We are preparing for our departure.” He informs him, this makes Steve gulp. They’re getting ready to leave, where does that leave him? 

“Они готовы?” He asks a nearby soldier, the grunt in return appears to be a yes. He looks back at Steve, still dressed in pajama bottoms, socks, and a tee shirt. Following through this secret base of soldiers dressed in uniforms and the Colonel still in one of his Father’s suits. He really went shopping in his closet, didn’t he?

The Colonel moves them down a tunnel, it’s darker than the rest of the vase, and begins to slant down. He can feel air being pushed through the tunnel, a cool warm air from the outside. He can hear engines beginning to blare further into the tunnel. They stop at a set of double doors, an artificial light emitting below and through the opening of the doors. The other double doors hold darkness, minimal light floating around in erratic patterns, and the location they enter floods his vision with the artificial light at first.

Inside the grey room they’re met with three containers and a cage.

Steve stops after his vision adjusts, he hears the doors close behind them. He notices Ozerov is in the room, slightly before him, proudly smirking at him, he twists to the doors behind him. Two guards with guns stand at the ready. 

He looks in the silver cage, a demogordon collapsed on the bottom of it. Inside a vat, filled with liquid is a demodog suspended. In the third vat, a black fleshly blob of bone and ink muscle floating in the space. 

Panic rises in his chest, he reaches a hand to it as he sees Ozerov pull up his bat from behind the demogordon’s cage, approaching the boy in a menacing fashion. He wants to step back, but his feet feel cemented to the ground.

“Why would you- how did you even-shit.” The words tumble out, this isn’t good. Why have these? “They’re dead… you can’t-why have-holy fuck.” He is afraid.

“You show fear, American? They’re incapacitated. You fought them all before, yes? See them here, defeated.”

“They’re only defeated because the gate is closed.” His voice doesn’t hide his fear. “That’s it- because the gate is closed. You don’t-”

“We don’t what? He commands. “We can open the gate again, train them, they’ll be our weapon, like dogs-”

“No, no, that’s not how they work. That’s insane. You can’t open the gate again. That’s insane, it’s closed now- keep it-” SMACK. Fuck. He holds his cheek as the heat vibrates against his face, ow. “It’s a hive mind.” He spits blood from his mouth. “They won’t listen to-” He notices the Colonel’s actions too late as a guard approaches, knocking his back down with the butt of his gun. “Don’t-fuck- you can’t-” Another foot to his back. He squirms a bit on the floor, as the Colonel kneels down over to him.

“Тряпичная кукла, you come to Russia.” Steve’s eyes go wide. “Let’s do this easy, yes? You help us with these, no labor camp, no pain?”

“No.” He pants. “No. You don’t understand-” He tries to sit up. “Please, those-those beasts- I didn’t defeat them, unless you like cut their fucking head off or something- you won’t-” He reaches for his face, squeezing his jaw. “Just -don’t- stop- don’t mess with these” He squeezes more, Steve grabs his arm as the Colonel uses his arm to pull him to his knees once more. He nods back at the guard he approaches, beginning to apprehend Steve’s arms. The colonel drops the bat, looking back at the beasts once more. 

Another soldier approaches the room.

“Эвакуация через двадцать минут, полковник.” Ozereov nods and begins to leave the room, the soldier apprehending Steve.

“Освоить дело” The other says. Steve finds adrenaline in his system and pushes the soldier off him in a surprise crunch. He swiftly moved across the floor, grabbing his bat once more. Ozerov stops and look at him, eyes narrowing.

“Be careful of your next move, boy.” Steve looks between the three men, a desperation in his eyes. “I’m not going to Russia- and those-things. Fuck no. Burn them.” He takes off swinging, and connects the bat to the side of Ozerov’s torso. He somehow stands firm, grasping the end of the bat from Steve, ripping it from his hands and tossing it further into the room. He grips Steve’s wrist and holds him tight to him.

“You will regret that. You leave now, or you die.”

“Fine.” He spits at him. Ozerov pounces onto top of him, rolling him onto his back. “Bindings-сейчас” He mutters, pissed off as blood drips down his side, ruining the dress shirt. He slams Steve’s head onto the cement floor, to daze him further. “Чёртов мальчишка” Bindings are handed to Ozerov as he pulls Steve’s arms behind him, binding the whole of the arms parallel to one another and wrapped over and over again together. He struggles against the man as his arms become immobile, after Ozerov is sure he’s bound he flips the boy over and rests his hips on top of him once more. Anger grows from his eyes as he watches the desperate, despondent look from the boy. 

“You can’t-with them-” Ozerov looks back at the specimens in the room, which are now being prepared to move out of the room. Something triggers inside him, regarding the tone of Steve’s voice. The other soldiers leave the space, helping take the beasts out of the room and to leave the base. “Listen to me!” Steve begs the man. “I fought them, I never defeated them, they can go off, they always left- I only could hold them off- you can’t-” He gags his mouth once more with a napkin he had in his pants pocket. Satisfied he’s gagged and bound again, he pulls him up once more. Pulling his bat in the other free hand, he begins to march Steve out of the room and through the other double doors of the hallway.  He sees in the dark of the night, cars driving off, helicopters taking off and a small plane being loaded with soldiers and three packaged cages and vats.

“You’re coming.” The Russian commands.

“N-no.” He screams through the gag. He attempts to kick or wrestle a hand free to help himself. His breath hitches again, and he stares defiant even as the edges begin to fade.

Ozerov picks him up enough, pushing him along as he relents against him. He releases a laugh as if he’s about to hold a child and carry him if he has to.

“Oh Steve.” He coddles. A soldier behind him approaches with his gun, as Ozerov takes his gun once more, throwing the nail bat to the grass below him. Tears enter Steve’s eyes, as he’s forced up by his bound arms, pressed against the Russian Colonel’s torso, forced to walk forward.

He can hear more military cars entering the field, driving past him.

“You should pay, you know, I could make you” he tells him referring to the bat to his side, he grunts pushing forward through the pain. Steve nods. In one last desperate attempt he kicks back, taking them both down once more.

He manages to keep his body firmly on top of Ozerov and using his own head he slams his head into that of his assailant. He falls to the side almost immediately as a remaining soldier grabs Ozerov off him and he points a gun at the teen.

The colonel directs him, and he begins supporting the older man, he takes his own pistol and aims it at the boy, he pulls as Steve twists away, the bullet striking the grass, dirt pluming into the air.

“Иди, оставь нас. Я тебя догоню. Это приказ.” The soldier immediately moves forward away from the scene. 

The soldier shouts at the Colonel, trying to direct his attention to move away and out towards the deafening sounds.

“Я сказал: это приказ” He says in a firm tone now.

Steve stares breathless in the grass, eyeing his assailant defiantly. Pulling his own gun on him on shaking feet he aims. The boy attempts to shake backwards and further away from the man. 

The gun in his hand shakes as he focuses his attention on finishing this situation. Their eyes meet. The gag found a way to roll down his face, but he has no words.

He lifts his torso up, trying to draw back as the Russian reaches behind, in one swift motion unbuckling the bindings. Steve reluctantly lowers his arms as he watches the Russian. He tosses his own keys onto his stomach.

“Lay down, now.” He whispers. Steve obeys, keeping his eyes on the Russian. He’s confused why he’s letting him go.

He releases two bullets, the teen screams as the sound echoes in the field. Ozerov kneels down over him, he watches as his breathing hitch, tears refusing to fall. Steve knows and understands. This is it. 

“Stay down until I am gone.” Pointing the gun again, he jerks his pistol as he diverts another bullet into the ground nearby. The Colonel smirks as he pushes himself back onto his legs, the blood of his forehead trailing down his face, dropping onto Steve’s chest. “Down.” He commands on last time as he turns and begins rushing away towards the chaos of the mission to leave. He hears an explosion behind him as the farm’s structure begins to burn away. 

It feels like hours after Helicopters and trucks rush off that flashlights begin to fill the field where he lays. The smoke still swirling around him from the fire, the sound of gunshots echoing in his ears. 

How did he finally get through to him at the last minute? He might never know. He palms his keys, feeling the metal in his hand. He wants to go home. He wants to go to bed. He wants to see his friends. 

Once the jet from the plane leaves his hearing, he pulls himself up, dragging himself past the fire of the farm structure, he sees a familiar vehicle. He has his keys this time.

He has to call Robin. He has to tell Robin everything. He promised. 

He drops his keys, the activities of the last several days catching up to him, his legs feeling like jelly, his head swimming. Oh gosh, he needs to go.

“STEVE?!”