Chapter Text
The air in Steve Harrington’s living room was thick with the smell of pepperoni, melted cheese, and the faint, familiar scent of cherry Kool‑Aid that had permanently soaked into the carpet over years of movie nights. Outside, the sun had long since dipped below the treeline, leaving Hawkins wrapped in the soft, humid twilight of mid‑July, crickets humming loud and steady in the yard. Inside, the only light came from the television screen, where Back to the Future was playing, bright colours washing over every face in the room.
They were all there—Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, and Max, all eighteen now, diplomas tucked away in drawers, fresh out of Hawkins High and standing right on the edge of everything changing. Just last month they’d walked across the stage, caps and gowns flapping in the wind, laughing and cheering like they hadn’t spent the last six years surviving monsters, government conspiracies, and more near‑death experiences than most people went through in a lifetime. Now it was July, and in another month they’d all be scattered to different states, different campuses, different lives. Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around it. To him, they were still the gang of kids he’d fought demodogs with back in ‘84, scrawny and wide‑eyed and in way over their heads. But now they were adults, tall and sharp and bright, and he only had a handful of these nights left before they were gone. His chest felt tight just thinking about it. My little shits, he thought fondly, glancing around the room. Gonna miss you more than anything.
Steve was twenty‑three now, and life had settled into something steady and good in a way he’d never really expected. He worked at Hawkins Middle School—funnily enough, as their sex education teacher and baseball coach. It still made him laugh sometimes, remembering the guy he’d been in high school, all hair and no brains, and now here he was, teaching twelve‑year‑olds about consent and healthy relationships and how not to be an idiot, and spending every afternoon out on the diamond yelling about batting stances and good sportsmanship. School was out for summer break, so there were no lessons, but baseball practice still ran three times a week, and he loved every second of it. It gave him something to focus on, something that felt like it mattered.
Life looked different for everyone else too. Jonathan was up in New York, studying film at NYU and staying there through the summer because he’d landed the chance to shoot a real, actual low‑budget independent movie. He called every couple of weeks, long and rambling and sent tons of black‑and‑white photos he’d taken around the city, talking about cameras and lighting and how everything felt so big and loud and wonderful. Robin was at Smith College in Massachusetts, and she’d stayed there too for the break—mostly because it meant she could spend every single day with her girlfriend Vickie, no prying eyes or small‑town whispers to worry about. Steve got weekly (okay, three times a week) phone calls from her, usually twenty minutes of her gushing about Vickie, ten minutes of complaining about the cafeteria food, and five minutes of checking in to make sure he wasn’t being too much of a mess.
And then there was Nancy. His Nancy. They’d been together just over a year now, and it was the happiest he’d ever been. It wasn’t easy, not with her living in Boston and him still here in Hawkins, but they made it work. He went up most weekends, or she came back down to spend time here, and every minute together felt like something precious, something worth fighting for. Two months ago she’d made the brave, terrifying choice to drop out of Emerson College—she’d realised it wasn’t what she wanted, that she didn’t fit into the rigid structure of it all—and had landed a job as a junior reporter at The Boston Herald. She was thriving, too—writing stories, chasing leads, that sharp, determined fire in her eyes that he’d always loved burning brighter than ever.
Right now, though, all of that felt miles away. Right now, it was just them, pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table, soda cans sweating everywhere, and Marty McFly zooming through 1955 on the TV. Steve leaned back against the sofa, beer in hand, and grinned as the scene played out. Every time he watched this movie, all he could think about was being high, on whatever drugs the Russians injected into him and Robin.
He paused then, and the grin softened a little, realisation hitting him. He’d almost forgotten to tell them. “Oh—guys, by the way. I won’t be here next week.”
That got everyone’s attention. Dustin twisted around, eyebrows shooting up. “What? Wait—what? Where are you going? You never skip movie night!”
“Relax, Henderson, I’m not abandoning you forever,” Steve laughed. “Me and Nance are going away for the weekend. Cape Cod. Her editor owns this huge, massive house right on the beach—like, right on the dunes, big wrap‑around porch, ocean view from every room—and he said she can have it all to herself for a few days. Said it’s a ‘reward for good work’ or whatever. So we’re driving down Friday afternoon, coming back Sunday night.”
There was a chorus of oohs and knowing grins around the room, but before anyone else could speak, Max leaned forward from where she was sitting in the armchair, red hair falling over her shoulders, and rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.
“Please,” she said, dry as dust. “What’s even the point? We all know exactly what you two are gonna be doing the whole time. You won’t step foot outside the front door, let alone go near the beach. You could just bang in her apartment in Boston all weekend and save yourself the drive.”
For half a second, silence fell over the room, and then Mike practically choked on his soda, face turning bright red as he spun around to stare at her, absolutely horrified.
“Max!” he yelped, voice high and indignant. “Come on! Gross! That’s my sister you’re talking about! Are you serious?!”
Max just smirked, completely unrepentant, and raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking! Don’t act like you don’t know exactly how they are.”
Lucas snickered into his drink, while Will bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, and Dustin was practically cackling on the floor. Steve felt his own cheeks go pink, scratching at the back of his neck, equal parts embarrassed and amused.
“Okay—okay, first of all,” he said, holding his hands up, “you guys are all the worst. And second of all—we are going to enjoy the beach. And the ocean. And the sun. We are going to have a nice, normal, wholesome weekend, thank you very much. You’re all corrupting each other, honestly.”
“Sure you are,” Max drawled. “And I’m actually gonna become an astronaut next year. Same level of likelihood.”
“Gross!” Mike repeated, still looking completely scandalised. “I don’t wanna think about my sister—or Steve—doing… anything. Ever. You guys are the absolute worst.”
Steve just shook his head, smiling, and looked back at the screen, but his heart felt light, warm and full in his chest. This was exactly what he was gonna miss—the teasing, the loud arguments, the terrible jokes, the way they could all be completely ridiculous together. Only one more month of this, he thought again, and the ache came back soft and sweet. But right now, he had this night, and the next few weeks, and a whole weekend with Nancy to look forward to, and for now, that was more than enough.
Somewhere on screen, Marty was playing guitar, and the room was full of laughter and noise, and Steve Harrington wouldn’t have traded a single second of it for anything in the world.
“So when you say huge,” Max pressed, leaning forward again, elbows on her knees, “how huge are we talking exactly?”
Steve’s eyes went wide, like he was still struggling to comprehend it himself. “Nance told me it’s got six bedrooms. Six! It’s insane—like, proper fancy, old‑money type place. Floor‑to‑ceiling windows, big wooden deck, private boardwalk straight onto the sand… she said you can hear the waves from every single room. Total dream house, honestly.”
Max’s eyebrows lifted, a slow, knowing little smirk spreading across her face. “Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting.”
“Wha—” Steve started, confused, but he was cut off mid‑sentence by the sharp, insistent ring of the phone coming from the kitchen. He held up a finger, pushing himself up off the sofa. “Hang on, hold that thought—be right back.”
He disappeared into the next room, and they could hear the faint clink of the receiver being lifted, followed by his voice, bright and friendly at first. “Hello?”
Then it dropped—softened right down, all warm and syrupy and tender, like someone had flipped a total switch. “Hey baby.”
Mike let out a loud, dramatic groan and rolled his eyes so far back he looked like he was trying to see inside his own skull. “Ugh. God. They are so gross together. It’s actually painful to listen to.”
Max didn’t even look at him; she was still wearing that sharp, mischievous grin, and she turned to the rest of them, lowering her voice like she was sharing top‑secret intelligence. “Listen. I have an idea.”
Immediately, every single one of them—Mike, Lucas, Will, Dustin—leaned in close, heads together, eyes bright and curious, completely forgetting the movie playing behind them.
Chapter Text
The alarm blared at 4:30am sharp, cutting through the quiet dark of Steve’s bedroom. He was awake before the second ring, heart already thudding with pure, buzzing excitement. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, grinning like an idiot, because today was the day.
Fourteen hours of driving straight through, no stops, no delays, nothing but highway stretching out ahead of him—but at the end of it all was Nancy. His Nancy. The love of his entire life. It had been two whole weeks since he’d last held her, two weeks of phone calls and letters and aching empty nights, and saying he missed her didn’t even begin to cover it. He’d missed her like he missed air, like he missed sunshine. Every single minute had felt twice as long, and now, finally, he was on his way.
He knew the plan by heart already: Nancy finished her shift at The Herald at 5pm sharp, then she’d drive straight down to Cape Cod—only an hour from Boston for her—so she’d be pulling up to the house around 6pm. Steve was aiming to get there by 7pm, give or take, and he wasn’t planning to stop for anything. No rest breaks, no long meals, no messing around. He’d filled the tank yesterday, mapped every route, and he was ready to just go.
He hopped into the shower quick, washing off the sleep and the stiffness, and pulled on his most comfortable jeans, a faded grey t‑shirt and his well‑worn sneakers. He filled a big insulated flask right to the brim with strong, black coffee—fuel for the road—slung his backpack over one shoulder, grabbed his keys, and headed out the front door, humming softly under his breath.
He rounded the corner to his car and stopped dead in his tracks.
Standing there on his driveway, grinning like maniacs, all five of them—Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, Max—each with duffel bags or backpacks clutched in their hands, looking wide awake and far too pleased with themselves.
Steve blinked. Then he blinked again.
“What the hell are you guys doing here?”
Mike stepped forward, chin lifted like he was announcing some major official mission. “We’re coming with you. Obviously.”
Steve threw his hands up in absolute disbelief. “No way. Absolutely not. Are you insane? This is supposed to be my romantic weekend with Nancy! You are not coming.”
Max just tilted her head, that sharp, cheeky glint in her eye that he knew all too well. “We already called Nancy. She said it’s totally fine, we can come along. You can call her right now and check if you don’t believe us.”
Steve glanced down at his watch. 5:02am.
He looked at them. Looked at his watch, again. Looked back at them.
There was no way he was calling Nancy at five in the morning just to argue about this. She was still asleep, and he wasn’t about to wake her up just to complain about these shits. He let out a long, heavy, defeated sigh that came all the way from his toes.
“…Fine. Get in the car. All of you. But if anyone complains about being hungry, or bored, or needing a bathroom break before we hit New York, I swear I’m leaving you by the side of the road.”
Instant chaos exploded.
“I CALL SHOTGUN!” Dustin yelled, already sprinting.
“NO, I DO!” Mike shouted, shoving past him.
“SHOTGUN’S MINE!” Lucas roared, racing around the side of the car.
Will and Max were right on their heels, all five of them shoving and laughing and yelling over each other as they scrambled toward the passenger side door like it was the most valuable prize in the world.
Steve just stood there for a second, watching them fight over who got to sit next to him for fourteen whole hours, tilted his head up toward the pale grey pre‑dawn sky, closed his eyes, and let out one deep, long, suffering breath.
“Lord,” he murmured, crossing his fingers, “give me strength.”
Max had won shotgun fair and square—well, fair enough, she’d shoved Mike into a rose bush and sprinted the last ten yards, but nobody was about to argue with her. She settled into the front seat, legs stretched out comfortably, grinning like she’d just won an Olympic medal, while the four boys had to pile into the back.
Back when they were thirteen, fitting four of them in the backseat had been tight but doable; now they were eighteen, all long limbs, broad shoulders and fully grown, it was an absolute disaster. Mike’s knees were pressed hard against the back of Steve’s seat, Lucas was squashed against the door with his shoulder cramping, Will was wedged in the middle trying to keep his arms tucked tight to his sides, and Dustin was practically sitting sideways, elbows flying everywhere.
“Get your elbow out of my ribs!” Mike snapped, shoving Lucas’s arm away.
“My elbow?!” Lucas retorted, kicking his leg out and catching Mike’s shin. “You’re taking up the whole seat! Move over, you’re like a giant spider!”
“I can’t move over, there’s no room!” Mike yelled back. “Will’s bony shoulder is digging into my spine and Dustin’s taking up half the space with his hair!”
“Excuse me?!” Dustin gasped, offended. “My hair is voluminous, thank you very much, and besides—you’re the one who keeps spreading your legs like you own the place!”
“Guys…” Will tried weakly, squished between them, “can we just—”
“NO!” the other three shouted in unison.
Steve gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw set, eyes fixed firmly on the dark highway stretching out ahead. He’d only been driving for forty‑five minutes and it was already like being trapped inside a shouting match on wheels. He could feel every nudge, every kick, every angry shove vibrating through the car seats.
He turned his head slightly, voice sharp and warning. “I can still stop this car right now and make you guys walk all the way back to Hawkins, you know? Don’t think I won’t do it.”
There was a brief, momentary silence, before Dustin leaned forward between the two front seats, eyebrows raised, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
“Why are you so on edge, anyway?” he asked, all mock‑innocent curiosity. “You’ve been acting all tense and snappy since we left. Thought you’d be all happy and dreamy ‘cause you’re going to see Nancy.”
Max turned to look at Steve, a wicked little smirk playing on her lips, and nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Seriously. You’re acting like we ruined your whole plan or something.”
“Seriously Steve, you really need to chill out,” Mike huffed, shifting awkwardly and shoving Lucas’s knee away from his thigh. “We’re literally just having fun, you’re acting like we committed a federal crime or something.”
Steve’s eyes flicked up to the rear‑view mirror, fixing Mike with a deadpan, unimpressed stare. “You know something? You are absolutely my least favourite Wheeler. You know that right? By a mile. Nancy is perfect, she’s an actual angel, and then there’s you.”
Dustin snickered loudly from the middle, leaning forward so far his head was practically in the front seats. “Well, yeah, makes sense—seeing as he is sleeping with a Wheeler!”
The whole car erupted into cackles. Max turned round in her seat, grinning wickedly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait—which one though?” she teased, drawing the words out slow and cheeky. “I mean, there’s Karen too, y’know…”
Steve groaned so loud it echoed, dragging a hand down his face while his ears burned bright red. He just rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw stars, gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
“Okay—enough!” he snapped, though there was no real heat behind it, just pure embarrassment and exhaustion. “You guys are officially on your FINAL warning. Do you hear me? Final. Warning. And we haven’t even crossed the state line yet—we are still in Indiana. If this is how the next thirteen hours are gonna go, I’m seriously reconsidering leaving you all on the side of the road somewhere.”
“Aw c’mon Steve, don’t be like that,” Lucas grinned, completely unphased. “You love us really.”
“Unfortunately,” Steve muttered under his breath, staring hard at the empty highway ahead, already dreading every single mile still left to drive.
Max hadn’t taken her eyes off him for the last twenty minutes, leaning against the passenger door with her chin propped in her hand, just studying his profile like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Steve could feel her gaze burning into the side of his face, and it was making him ten times more jittery than the cramped backseat or the endless bickering. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, and he snapped, voice sharp and defensive.
“What are you looking at me for? Quit staring, it’s weird!”
Max just grinned, unfazed, her eyes glinting with that knowing, mischievous light she always got when she’d figured something out nobody else had. “You’re thinking really hard,” she said slowly, dragging out every word. “Like, really hard. You’ve got that little line right between your eyebrows that only shows up when you’re turning something over in your head.”
From the back, Dustin piped up, tone dramatic and ominous. “Ooh, yeah, that face. Dangerous. Never a good sign.”
“I am not thinking hard!” Steve protested, cheeks flushing pink as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’m just—driving! That’s all! Keeping my eyes on the road, maintaining a steady speed, navigating traffic! That’s literally it!”
Max didn’t buy it for a second. Her eyes suddenly went huge, round and bright as lightbulbs, and she gasped so loud it made everyone jump. She spun fully round in her seat to face the others, hands flying up to cover her mouth.
“Oh my GOD,” she shrieked, half‑whispered and high‑pitched. “Is that why you’ve been so nervous this whole time?! Are you gonna do what I think you’re gonna do?! Are you?!”
Lucas frowned, leaning forward between the seats, thoroughly confused. “Babe, seriously, what are you talking about? Do what?!”
Max whipped back around to stare straight at Steve, triumphant and wild with excitement. “He’s gonna propose!”
For one single, frozen second there was total silence in the car—then total chaos.
Mike was mid‑sip of his soda when the words hit his ears, and he choked so hard he practically convulsed, spraying fizzy orange liquid all over Will, who was sitting right next to him.
“UGH—Mike!” Will yelled, wiping sticky soda off his face, hair and shirt, looking absolutely horrified. “What the hell?!”
But Mike didn’t even notice, he was too busy coughing and spluttering, face turning bright red, eyes bulging like they were about to pop out of his head. He thumped his chest a few times, finally managing to breathe again, and yelled at the top of his lungs.
“What?!”
“Will everyone CALM DOWN?!” Steve shouted, voice cracking a little as he darted his eyes between the road and the chaos exploding all around him, face flaming bright red. “I am not proposing this weekend! Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you, Mayfield?!”
He shot Max a look that could’ve melted steel, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. “You just make up absolute nonsense and yell it out like it’s fact! Do you realise how insane you sound?! And you—” he snapped, glancing at Mike in the rear‑view mirror “—stop looking at me like I just said I made out with Vecna! I’m not proposing! Not this weekend! Not anytime soon! I’m twenty‑three! We’re happy, we’re good, we’re taking things easy, we don’t need labels or big gestures or rings!”
He huffed, shaking his head, ears burning. “God! I drive you guys one place and you turn it into some kind of soap opera drama! I just wanna spend a nice, quiet, normal weekend with my girlfriend! Is that too much to ask?!”
Max just held her hands up, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Alright, alright! Chill your hair, Harrington! I was just asking! You’re the one acting guilty!”
“I am not acting guilty!” Steve yelled back, even as his face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I’m acting annoyed! There’s a difference!”
From the back, Dustin hummed thoughtfully. “Y’know… you’re protesting really hard there, Steve…”
“Shut up Henderson!”
Silence hung in the car—blessed, beautiful, quiet—for exactly five whole minutes. Steve was just starting to relax his grip on the steering wheel, breathing out a long, relieved breath, thinking maybe, maybe they’d finally settled down and he could drive in peace for a little while.
Then Dustin’s voice piped up from the back, breaking the stillness like a hammer through glass.
“Can we stop at McDonald’s? I want a McMuffin.”
Steve groaned, his head thumping softly against the headrest. Of course. Of course.
Max spun around in the front seat instantly, all previous calm forgotten, eyes lighting up like Christmas had come early. “Ooh yeah! I could absolutely go for some hotcakes right now—extra syrup, obviously!”
“And hash browns!” Lucas chimed in immediately, leaning forward, all trace of earlier grumpiness gone. “I need a hash brown. Two, actually.”
“Can I get a sausage biscuit?” Mike added, still wiping the last sticky traces of soda off his sleeve, suddenly very invested. “And an orange juice? Please?”
Will just nodded eagerly from the middle, looking hopeful. “I’d love a hotcake too, honestly.”
Steve squeezed his eyes shut for a second, fighting every urge to scream. He turned his head to glare at all of them, one by one.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked, voice flat with exhaustion. “We’ve been driving for an hour. We haven’t even left Indiana. We literally just had this conversation about not stopping. I told you—straight through. No stops. Remember?”
“Steve, it’s seven am!” Dustin argued, sounding incredibly reasonable for someone who was just causing chaos ten minutes earlier. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! You can’t expect us to survive another thirteen hours on nothing but air and attitude!”
“And hotcakes are a valid travel essential,” Max added seriously, nodding like she was stating a scientific fact. “It’s basic road trip law.”
Steve looked at them—all five pairs of eyes staring at him, wide and pleading and ridiculous—and he knew he’d already lost. He let out another long, defeated sigh, shoulders slumping.
“…I see a sign for an exit in two miles,” he muttered, turning the indicator on slow and grumpy. “But if anyone spills syrup on my seats, or takes too long ordering, or complains that it’s ‘not what they wanted’, I swear to God I’m turning this car around and dropping every single one of you back at home myself. Do you hear me?”
A collective cheer went up so loud it hurt his ears, and he just shook his head, a tiny, reluctant smile fighting its way onto his face. He was absolutely doomed, wasn’t he?
Chapter Text
Hours blurred into miles, state lines coming and going one after another—Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut—each mile marker bringing them closer, yet every minute feeling twice as long. The sun climbed high then dipped low, and the hum of the highway never let up. By the time they rolled into New Haven, Connecticut, late that afternoon, Steve’s knee was bouncing non‑stop against the steering column and his hands were clamped so tight to the wheel his fingers had gone pale. He was practically vibrating with restless energy, every second dragging like an hour; he was so close now, he could almost smell the salt air and hear Nancy’s laugh, and he just wanted to be there already.
Max, who’d been watching him fidget and shift and check his watch every two minutes for the last hundred miles, leaned over with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you want me to drive for a bit? You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
Steve shot her a sharp, horrified look so fast he nearly swerved across the lane. “No way. Absolutely not. Not after last time.”
Max threw her hands up, indignant. “That was five years ago! I was thirteen! I have an actual licence now, thank you very much! I passed first time, too!”
“NO!” Steve barked, firm and absolute, shaking his head like the very idea was preposterous. “I don’t care if you’re a damn professional race car driver. You are not driving my baby. Over my dead body.”
Max rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful, slumping back into her seat with a loud huff. “You are so dramatic. It’s a car, not a priceless antique. You act like I’d wrap it around a telephone pole just for fun.”
“Because you would!” Steve insisted, though there was no real heat in it, just pure, protective stubbornness. “I’ve seen how you ride that stupid skateboard of yours. You have zero regard for safety or brakes or physics. No way in hell am I letting you behind the wheel. I’d rather drive for another ten hours straight than risk it.”
From the back, Dustin piped up, grinning. “He’s got a point, Max. You did once try to drift round a corner and ended up in Mrs. Higgins’ flower bed.”
“Exactly!” Steve agreed. “See? Even Henderson agrees. And he agrees with literally no one ever.”
“Traitor,” Max muttered, crossing her arms tight over her chest and staring out the window, but the tiny smile tugging at her mouth gave her away.
Steve glanced at the clock—just gone 4:30pm. He was still buzzing, still desperate to get there, but the thought of seeing Nancy soon steadied him a little. He adjusted his grip on the wheel, eyes fixed firmly on the highway signs pointing toward Cape Cod, and pressed down just a little harder on the gas pedal. Almost there. Just a little longer.
They pulled up the driveway and every single one of them went completely silent. The house stood right on the dunes: huge, weather‑grey cedar shingles, floor‑to‑ceiling glass, a wide wrap‑around deck looking straight out over the ocean, glowing warm and golden in the soft evening light. It was like something out of a fancy magazine, nothing like anything they’d ever seen in Hawkins.
Every jaw dropped open at once. Steve let out a long, low whistle, eyes wide and impressed.
“Holy shit.”
They all piled out of the car, stretching stiff legs and craning their necks to stare at every part of the place, salt wind tangling their hair and the soft, steady crash of waves filling the air. They tramped up the wide wooden steps to the big oak front door, Steve’s heart hammering hard against his ribs—he was finally here, finally close enough to touch her again after two whole weeks apart. He lifted his hand and knocked, sharp and eager.
The door swung open almost instantly.
And there she was.
Nancy.
She was standing right there, and Steve’s brain completely short‑circuited. She was wearing the most stunning, delicate black lace lingerie—silky, sheer, perfectly fitted, all soft straps and curved lines and deep cuts, incredibly beautiful and undeniably, unmistakeably sexy. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her bare shoulders, her skin glowing, lips painted soft red, and for a split second she was smiling bright just at him—until her eyes snapped past his shoulder and landed on Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin and Max all crowded right behind him.
Her smile died instantly. Her eyes blew wide. Her face flushed bright red all the way down to her neck.
Chaos exploded in a heartbeat.
Max moved faster than lightning—she spun round and slammed both hands hard over Lucas’s eyes, squeezing tight and yanking his head away. “Do not look! Do not look!”
Mike and Will threw their hands straight up over their own eyes in perfect unison, turning their backs sharply, Mike groaning loud and horrified: “What the fuck, Nancy?!”
Steve was just standing there, completely rooted to the spot, staring at her like he’d forgotten how to speak or blink or breathe, his face burning hot, every single thought in his head reduced to just her, her, her.
Nancy whipped her gaze back to Steve, mortified and furious all at once, hands flying up to try and cover herself. “Why the hell did you bring them?!”
Steve reacted instantly—he practically ripped his hoodie off over his head and hurled it straight at her, face scarlet. “They said you said they could come!” he yelled back, equal parts flustered and indignant. “They swore you told them it was fine! I asked them! I told them it was just us!”
“I didn’t say that!” Nancy shrieked, yanking the hoodie on and pulling it tight around herself, looking absolutely ready to commit murder.
From where she was still shielding Lucas, Max piped up, voice bright and completely unrepentant: “Oh yeah… about that. We lied.” She paused, then added quickly, “But in our defence! We genuinely had no idea you were gonna open the door like… well… like that!” She gestured vaguely at Nancy, still red as a tomato in Steve’s oversized hoodie. “We thought you’d be in like… jeans or a robe or something! We didn’t know you were waiting half‑naked for your boyfriend!”
Mike was still facing the garden, hands clamped hard over his eyes, voice high and traumatised. “I am never going to recover from this! I am going to carry this image in my head until the day I die!”
Will was right beside him, also still blindfolded by his own hands, nodding frantically. “This is worse than any monster! This is traumatic!”
Lucas was just standing there, completely blind, turning his head left and right. “Wait—what? What happened?! Why is everyone screaming?!”
Steve ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots in pure exasperation and embarrassment, looking between Nancy—who was still bright red and fuming inside his hoodie—and the group of chaotic teenagers who’d completely hijacked his romantic weekend. He let out a long, deep, suffering groan.
“Lord,” he muttered, shaking his head, “give me strength. Seriously. Just… give me strength.”
Nancy just glared at all of them, then looked back at Steve, and despite everything, a tiny, embarrassed, affectionate little smile started to fight its way onto her face.
“Get inside,” she said, rolling her eyes but stepping back to hold the door open. “All of you. But if anyone says one single word about this, ever again, I swear I will write a very unflattering exposé about every single one of you and publish it on the front page.”
There was a mad scramble to get inside, everyone still yelling and laughing and apologising all at once, and Steve followed them in, shaking his head the whole time—but as he walked past Nancy, she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing tight, and he knew without even looking that despite the absolute disaster of an arrival, everything was going to be okay.
Nancy fled upstairs as fast as her legs could carry her, face still burning bright red, and the rest of them trailed into the huge, sun‑drenched living room with its high ceilings, soft cream sofas and floor‑to‑ceiling windows looking straight out onto the dunes and the ocean. Before anyone could even sit down, Dustin had already bounded over to the massive wood‑panelled entertainment unit and flicked the TV on, flipping through channels like he owned the place.
“Found HBO!” he announced triumphantly, flopping down right in the middle of the biggest sofa. “This place has everything.”
They were all still chattering, laughing and groaning and rehashing the chaos at the front door, when another sharp knock echoed through the entryway. Steve frowned, confused, and got back up to answer it. He pulled the door open and practically did a double‑take.
Standing there on the steps, grinning like a pair of cheshire cats, were Robin and Vickie, bags slung over their shoulders and matching sunhats perched on their heads.
Steve blinked. “What are you doing here?!”
Robin rolled her eyes, shoving past him into the hall with Vickie right behind her. “Nice to see you too, Dingus. Warmest welcome as always.” She turned back to him, beaming. “Max called us! Said we’ve got this entire huge house all to ourselves for the whole weekend and we might as well make it a proper group thing. Why waste all that space, right? Plus, Vickie has never seen the ocean, so this was basically an offer we couldn’t refuse.”
Vickie gave a little wave, cheeks pink but smiling. “It really was too good to turn down. Hope you don’t mind!”
Steve just stared at them for a second, then let his head fall back with a long, dramatic groan. “Mind? I don’t even know what ‘mind’ means anymore. This was supposed to be two people. Just me and Nancy. That’s it. Now we’re… nine? What is happening to my life?”
“Relax, Steve, you love us really,” Robin teased, patting his arm as they headed into the living room to greet everyone else, hugs and excited exclamations flying everywhere.
They’d only been settled for about five minutes, the noise level already rising by the second, when another knock rapped against the door. Steve let out a noise that was half‑sigh, half‑scream, and dragged himself back over to open it again.
This time it was Jonathan, camera bag slung over one shoulder, duffel in the other, hair messy and that familiar easy smile on his face.
“Hey man!” he said, stepping inside and looking around with wide, impressed eyes. “Thanks so much for inviting me, seriously. This place is insane. Like… actual rich‑people insane. I’ve only ever seen places like this in films.”
He set his bags down in the hall and wandered into the living room, scanning the room. “Hey everyone! Uh—has anyone seen Nancy yet? I wanna say hi properly. Where is she, anyway?”
A strange, awkward hush fell over the room for exactly one second, before Max—who was perched on the arm of a chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself—spoke up loud and clear, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
“Unfortunately,” she drawled, slow and dramatic, “we’ve all seen way more of Nancy than we ever needed to. Or ever wanted to, honestly. It’s gonna be etched onto my retinas forever.”
The room exploded. Mike made a loud, strangled noise and buried his face in a cushion, Will turned bright scarlet and stared very hard at the floor, Lucas let out a loud “Oh god”, Dustin cackled so hard he almost fell off the sofa, and Robin and Vickie just looked between them all, eyes huge and absolutely dying to know exactly what had happened.
Jonathan just stood there, completely lost, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Wait—what? What does that mean? What did I miss?”
Max leaned back, crossing her arms with that wicked, knowing smirk still plastered all over her face, and drew every eye in the room right to her.
“Let’s just say,” she went on, slow and deliberate and enjoying every single second, “Nancy had very different plans for how this evening was gonna go. And hanging out with all of us? That was definitely, absolutely not part of the agenda.”
Chapter Text
Nancy came down the stairs a minute later, fully composed now, cheeks only faintly pink. She’d pulled a pair of denim shorts on underneath, but kept wearing Steve’s big grey hoodie—sleeves rolled up, the fabric hanging loose and comfortable on her. She stepped into the living room and stopped short, eyes going wide as she spotted Robin, Vickie and Jonathan all standing there.
Her head snapped straight toward Steve, expression screaming what the hell is going on? loud and clear, and he just shook his head slowly, raising his hands in a helpless I have no idea either gesture.
“Why is everyone here?” Nancy asked, looking between them all, equal parts confused and exasperated.
“Max invited us,” Jonathan said with a little shrug, sounding apologetic but amused.
Nancy turned her gaze sharply toward the redhead, voice dropping into that warning tone everyone knew very well. “Maxine.”
Max held up both hands, grinning unrepentantly. “In my defence! It’s your editor’s house, right? He said you could have it—he didn’t say how many people! And honestly? This is way more fun than just two people. Plus, you and Steve can still have alone time later! Probably! Maybe!”
Steve crossed the room in two long strides, ignoring the chaos completely for a second. He pulled Nancy gently toward him, hands settling naturally on her waist, and finally kissed her—properly, soft and slow and full of all the two weeks of missing her he’d been carrying. When he pulled back, he kept his arms around her, leaning his forehead against hers, voice low enough only she could really hear.
“Maybe we can just… ignore them?” he murmured.
“Get a room!” Dustin yelled from the sofa, loud and gleeful.
Steve pulled back just enough to glare over his shoulder at him, completely unbothered. “We had a room! We had a whole house! You lot decided to crash! Total cockblocks, every single one of you.”
Nancy’s hand came up instantly to smack lightly against his chest, face flushing pink again as she hissed, “Steve!”
“What? It’s true!” Steve shot back, throwing his hands up like he was stating the most obvious fact in the world. “Absolute, certified, professional cockblocks. The whole lot of them.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow, a sharp, playful glint in her eyes, and poked his chest hard with her finger. “Yeah, well—be nice, or I’ll be the biggest cockblock of them all. Don’t think I won’t.”
Jonathan let out a low chuckle from where he stood by the window, shaking his head in amusement. “She means it, Steve. Seriously. Don’t test her.”
Steve just turned his head and grinned right at him, all cocky and bright, then looked back down at Nancy with that soft, smitten look he got only for her. “Nah. She never means it. She can’t resist me.” He leaned in a little closer, voice warm and teasing. “Pretty sure I’m her absolute favourite person in the whole world, actually.”
From the sofa behind them, Mike made a loud, theatrical gagging noise, clutching his throat like he was being poisoned. “UGH! So gross! I am literally going to be sick! Why do you guys have to be like this right in front of everyone?! Can you stop being disgusting for five minutes?!”
“Never,” Steve said instantly, not even looking away from Nancy, who was now biting her lip to stop herself laughing, trying her absolute hardest to keep up the stern act and failing miserably.
Nancy let out a breathy, half‑laugh, half‑sigh and shook her head, hands settling on her hips.
“Yeah, okay—definitely can’t do this whole thing sober,” she said, glancing around the crowded, noisy room like she was already plotting her escape. “Lucky for me, there’s a wine cellar. Steve—come help me grab some bottles. Now.”
She shot him a look that was equal parts let’s go and save me, and he was already moving, falling into step right beside her with a grin that reached all the way to his eyes.
“The rest of you—” she called over her shoulder, pointing a warning finger at the group “—don’t break anything, don’t touch anything expensive, and for the love of God, try not to destroy the place in the ten minutes we’re gone.”
Robin watched the empty doorway for all of three seconds before turning to the rest of the group, deadpan and absolutely certain.
“They’re definitely going to make out for like an hour down there, aren’t they?”
Vickie giggled, leaning her head on Robin’s shoulder. “Oh, one hundred percent. We’ll be lucky if we see any wine before dinner.”
Jonathan huffed a laugh, crossing his arms. “Give ‘em twenty minutes at least before they even remember why they went down there.”
Mike pulled a face of pure disgust. “Ugh. Please. Can we at least pretend they’re just getting wine? My brain has suffered enough today.”
“Nope,” Max said, popping the ‘p’ and smirking. “We all know exactly what Steve Harrington does when he gets Nancy Wheeler alone behind a closed door. Wine is just the excuse.”
Down in the cool, dim cellar, Nancy had barely turned around before Steve’s hands were on her waist, backing her gently against a rack of dusty bottles, his smile soft and hungry.
“Took you long enough to come up with that excuse,” he murmured, leaning in until their noses brushed.
“Shut up,” she whispered, grinning, and pulled him down into a kiss.
Robin was, as always, completely right. The bottles stayed exactly where they were for quite a while longer.
Steve pulled her flush against him until there was no space left between them, and he kept kissing her—deep, slow, hungry kisses that made up for every single day they’d spent apart these last two weeks. Nancy melted right into it, her fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, and when she finally broke for air she sighed softly against his mouth, voice thick and warm.
“I missed you.”
“You have no idea, baby,” Steve murmured back, brushing his lips over hers again immediately. “Thought I was gonna go crazy without you.”
They lost themselves in it then, wrapped up in the quiet cool of the cellar, nothing but the soft smell of dust and wine and him surrounding her. Nancy could feel every line of his body pressed to hers, and it didn’t take long before she felt the hard, heavy pressure of him pressing right against her hip.
She pulled back just an inch, eyes wide and breathless, and gave him a look half amused, half teasing. “You can’t go back upstairs like that. Everyone will know instantly—especially Robin. She’ll never let you live it down.”
Steve just grinned, that cocky, lopsided grin she loved so much, and leaned in close to whisper right against her ear, voice rough and warm.
“You better do something about it then.”
Nancy didn’t pull away for even a second, kissing him deep and slow as her fingers moved fast and sure, popping the button of his Levis open and dragging the zipper down in one smooth motion. She pushed the denim and his boxers down just enough, and her hand wrapped warm and tight around him, stroking slow and steady up and down, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip.
Steve’s breath hitched sharp and loud, a low, ragged hiss spilling against her mouth, his hands gripping her shoulders like he needed something to hold onto.
“Fuck—Nance…”
She pulled back just a little, eyes dark and gleaming, then slowly sank down to her knees on the cool stone floor, never breaking her gaze from his. Looking up at him through her lashes, her hand still moving in that perfect, steady rhythm, she gave him a small, wicked smile that made his head spin.
“Better?” she whispered.
Steve’s head fell back with a groan, one hand tangling tight in her hair, the other braced against the wooden wine rack behind him to keep himself upright.
“Jesus—yeah. Yeah, so much better.”
Nancy didn’t break eye contact for even a heartbeat as she leaned in closer, her hand still moving slow and steady around him, guiding him exactly where she wanted. Then she parted her lips and took him into her mouth, warm and wet and perfect, sinking down as far as she could take him in one smooth, deliberate motion.
Steve’s whole body went rigid, a sharp, broken gasp tearing out of his throat, his fingers tangling tight into her hair—gentle but desperate, anchoring himself there like he’d fall apart if he let go. “Fuck—Nancy—” he groaned, head tipping back against the wooden rack, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure shot through him hot and bright, sharper and better than anything he’d imagined over these last two weeks apart.
She set a slow, steady rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, her tongue swirling soft and deliberate around the sensitive head every time she drew back, her free hand resting light but firm on his hip to hold him exactly where she wanted him. She took her time with it, savouring every sharp, ragged sound he made, every twitch and shiver that ran through him, revelling in the way he fell apart so easily for her—only ever for her.
Every little noise he made, every choked breath and rough plea, spurred her on, and she took him deeper, hollowing her cheeks, the wet, slick sounds of it mixing with his heavy breathing in the quiet, cool air of the cellar. Steve’s legs felt like they were turning to jelly, every thought in his head melting away until there was nothing left but her—her mouth, her hands, the way she looked up at him through her lashes, dark and heavy with desire, like she was enjoying this just as much as he was.
“God—baby—” he gasped out, voice wrecked and thick, one hand sliding from her hair to cup her cheek, thumb brushing soft over her skin even as his hips bucked forward, slow and helpless, chasing every bit of pleasure she gave him. “You have no idea—how long I’ve wanted this—needed you like this—”
Nancy hummed softly around him, the vibration sending a jolt straight through him, and she picked up the pace just a little, faster now but still so deliberate, knowing exactly what made him tremble, exactly what made him whisper her name like a prayer. She could feel him getting harder, heavier in her mouth, could feel the tension coiling tight and hot in every line of his body, knew he was close—so close—and she wanted nothing more than to give him everything, to make him forget every single thing that wasn’t just this, just them.
“Nance—I’m close—fuck—I’m so close—” he warned, voice cracking, fingers tightening just slightly in her hair, his whole body shaking with it. “Please—baby—”
She didn’t stop, didn’t slow down—if anything she took him deeper, one hand sliding down to cup and stroke him in perfect time with her mouth, pushing him right to the edge, holding him there for one perfect, endless second before he finally broke, crying out her name loud and ragged as he came, spilling hot and thick into her mouth, his whole body shuddering, every muscle going taut before finally going loose and boneless, sagging back against the rack as the pleasure washed over him in wave after wave, leaving him breathless and shaking and completely hers.
Nancy kept going for a few more gentle strokes, drawing out every last drop of it until he was twitching and sensitive, only pulling away when he made a weak, pleading sound, his hand coming down to cup her face and lift her up to stand again. Her lips were swollen and shiny, her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked up at him with that soft, wicked smile that always made his heart race all over again.
Steve pulled her straight into his arms, kissing her hard and deep, tasting himself on her tongue, holding her like he never wanted to let go.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed against her mouth, still trying to catch his breath, voice thick and raw. “I love you so much. You have no idea.”
Nancy just laughed soft and warm, winding her arms around his neck. “I love you too,” she whispered back. “And don’t worry—we’ve got plenty more time for that later. Right now though… we really should grab those bottles before they come looking for us.”
Steve groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, though he was grinning like an idiot. “Five more minutes. Just five.”