Chapter Text
“I look like a total loser,” Robin groans, tugging at the ends of her sleeves as she twists and turns in the mirror. She ruffles up her hair, all messy, and Steve rolls his eyes. “God, I can’t believe we have to go up on stage in front of the whole town, and I look like I just walked out of a wind tunnel! Ugh!”
She messes with her hair some more, and Steve swats at her arm with the hand that isn’t currently holding a section of Nancy’s hair back. “You’re gonna make it worse if you keep doing that,” he warns her, “and I told you, I’ll do your hair once I’m done with Nance’s. Be patient, wait your turn. We still have a couple of hours, y’know. Get dressed while you wait, do your makeup or something. I can’t work with you pestering me.”
Nancy’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he puts a hand on them to get her to keep still again. “Sorry,” Nancy says, and at least some people in this room have some manners. Steve carefully pins the curl into place, brows furrowed in concentration.
Robin, still huffing and puffing about her hair off to the side, turns towards them. “Oh my God, how do you look even more perfect than normal?” she laments, and Steve watches the reflection in the mirror; Nancy’s lips turn up in a wry smile. Robin crosses her arms. “Seriously, it’s totally unfair. You got up after I did!”
“But while you’ve been bellyaching about your flyaways, Nance actually got ready for graduation,” Steve tells her. “Go get dressed, Rob.”
“I don’t wanna,” Robin groans. “My mom got me this awful frilly dress, and I hate dresses, Steve, you know that.”
“I do,” Steve grants her, pinning another one of Nancy’s curls in place, “so why don’t you just wear, like, nice pants and a button-up?”
She stares him with wide eyes. “Steven Jebediah Harrington—”
“Fully not my middle name, but okay—”
“—do you have any idea the kind of wrath I’d be invoking from Melissa Elaine Buckley if I didn’t wear the dress she made me spend hours in the Macy’s three towns over to get?” Robin asks, utterly incredulous, and Steve gives her a look of pure confusion.
“Wait, that’s not your mom’s middle name, either—”
“Not the point, Steve! The point is that she spent, like, sixty whole dollars on that stupid fru-fru pink lace dress, and if I have to wear it, I will kill someone,” she threatens, and Nancy lets out a low whistle.
“What’ve you got against pink, hm?” Nancy teases, and Robin’s face flushes.
She waves a hand dismissively. Steve goes back to pinning Nancy’s hair into place, switching to sparkly, fake-jewel-encrusted pins once he gets to the center of the back of her head. “Nothing! It’s a great color, sorry, I know it’s your favorite. It’s not the pink that’s the problem, it’s the whole itchy-lace-frills-bleh that’s the problem,” Robin explains. “Plus, dresses just…aren’t my thing. I don’t even like skirts most of the time!”
“You like that tennis skirt you got, the one with the shorts built into ’em,” Steve recalls. He waves a bobby pin in her direction. “Why don’t you just wear shorts underneath the dress? Keeps the frills off you, your mom’s happy, it’s a win-win.”
Robin tilts her head, considering the idea. “Lemme try,” she mutters, storming out of the room in a flurry of gangly limbs and determination, and Steve shakes his head fondly.
Nancy tilts her head, and Steve sets her back straight. “God, sorry I keep moving, it’s just—it’s been so long since I had someone else do my hair,” she says, and Steve smiles reassuringly at her before taking out one of the sparkly pins and replacing it in a more centered position. Nancy’s lips purse. “Are you sure you don’t mind helping us get ready?”
Steve shrugs. “Nah, it’s kinda nice. Plus, I’ll get to mess with Eddie’s hair when he gets here, which is always fun for me,” he says with a grin, and Nancy rolls her eyes, though she’s smiling, so Steve knows it’s lighthearted. “Looks good so far?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Nancy says, “you’re really good at this.”
Steve hums, fighting a smile. “Thanks, Nance,” he says, and she beams. He pins the last curl into place, then starts to fluff up the tips, just a little. Not enough to make them look messy, but enough to make them fluffy, give them a little volume. He gives her hair one last cursory spray with a can of Farrah Fawcett and steps back to admire his handiwork. “You like it?”
Nancy spins around to give him a hug. “I love it! It’s perfect, the little jewels go with my dress so well, Steve, thank you,” she says, and Steve pulls back to give her shoulders a squeeze. Nancy’s eyes widen at something over his shoulder. “Oh my God, Robin, you look—”
“Awkward as hell, I know,” Robin groans, and Steve turns to look at her. She honestly looks pretty great in the dress—it’s a good cut on her, and the pink doesn’t wash her out—but she’s clearly uncomfortable in it, even with the shorts presumably underneath. Robin pinches the fabric and readjusts it, a wince on her face. “God, I forgot how tight dresses are. This is torture, Nancy, I don’t know how you do it. And these sleeves! How in God’s name am I supposed to fit these puffy things in a graduation gown?!”
Oddly quiet, Nancy averts her eyes and shrugs, turning to fix her lipstick in the mirror. Steve crosses his arms over his chest and gives Robin a look up and down. “You know, it’s not…awful, but, yeah, those sleeves are…definitely something. Can you detach ’em?” he asks, and Robin gives him a flat look, pointedly tugging on the big, puffy sleeves. They don’t budge. Steve frowns thoughtfully. “How mad would your mom be if we got rid of them?”
Robin tilts her head. “I think she’d take the victory of me dressing up like a little Barbie doll over a couple of ripped sleeves,” she says, grinning, and Steve snatches up the scissors from her desk, snipping them for dramatic effect.
“Robin!” Mrs. Buckley shouts from downstairs. “You have another boy at the door!”
Nose scrunched up with disgust, Robin shakes her head. “I hate it when she says it like that,” she mutters, then raises her voice as she pokes her head around the door. “C’mon up, Munson, Nance and Steve are already here!”
Steve shakes his head. “He has a first name. You know that, right? ’Cuz I feel like you might not,” he teases, and Robin huffs, a grumpy smile on her face. “I mean, you’ve saved the guy’s life, Rob, you’ve known him for almost a year, you don’t have to keep up the whole ‘hating him’ bit anymore.”
“Oh, it’s not a bit,” Robin says, completely straight-faced, “I will one day be that man’s downfall, Steve, mark my words.”
Nancy snorts, and Eddie bounds into the room, tie helter-skelter and shirt buttoned up completely wrong. “Good morni—holy shit, Buckley, what Joann Fabrics-grandma couch lovechild threw up on you?” he guffaws, and Robin flips him off. Eddie pecks Steve on the cheek in greeting and turns to Nancy, whistling. “Lookin’ good, Nance. Love the hair.”
“Thanks, I got it done at the Harrington Salon,” Nancy says breezily, moving forward to take the scissors from Steve and stepping towards Robin. “Okay, grab the fabric and stretch it, I’ll help you cut them off while Steve deals with Eddie.”
“‘Deals’ with me?” Eddie scoffs, and Nancy levels him with an unamused look and an expectantly raised eyebrow. It’s enough to make Steve shudder, and it’s not even directed at him. Eddie blinks, then salutes. “Yes, ma’am, right away, ma’am.”
“It’s gonna look better when the sleeves are off, it’s gonna look better when the sleeves are off,” Robin murmurs, like if she says it enough, it’ll make it true, and to her credit, Steve thinks it might be. She glances at Eddie as Nancy starts to snip off some of the fabric. “How did you manage to button your shirt up so incorrectly?”
Steve shakes his head fondly as Eddie sputters in protest, moving forward to help unbutton and rebutton the shirt, the buttons in the right holes this time. “For what it’s worth, I thought it was cute,” Steve tells him, and Eddie grins, drawing him in for a long, languid kiss that Robin pretends to gag at. Steve pulls away from Eddie to narrow his eyes at her. “You’re just jealous because you’re still single.”
“How are you still single, by the way?” Nancy asks Robin idly, eyes darting up. “I mean, if Eddie can get a boyfriend, surely you can, too.”
Eddie squawks in offense as Steve starts to fix his tie—half-Windsor, because it’s the only kind he knows how to do. “Uh, excuse me, Wheeler, I’m a catch,” Eddie says, putting a hand over his chest before Steve gently swats it out of his way.
Robin ignores him. “I’m, uh, not really looking for a boyfriend,” she says, and she exchanges a look with Steve.
Nancy just hums and keeps snipping. Once Eddie’s tie is fixed, Steve gives him a quick kiss and pats his chest. “There. You look good,” Steve tells him.
“I look like I’m going to a job interview,” Eddie groans, tugging at the tie.
“Like someone’s gonna hire you,” Robin snorts, and before Eddie can really start up the bickering, Steve nudges him into the seat in front of the mirror. Robin rolls her shoulder once Nancy finishes cutting one of the sleeves off. “God, that feels so much better.”
Fabric slips to the floor, and Steve runs a wide-tooth comb through Eddie’s curls, careful around the few snags and knots it catches on. “I can actually work with this,” he murmurs, a playful smile quirking at his lips, and Eddie clicks his tongue, eyes narrowed. Steve takes hold of the curl cream he’d used on Nancy and squirts some into his palm, rubbing his hands together and carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “God, your hair is so soft, it makes me, like, irrationally mad.”
“Weren’t complaining about it last night,” Eddie sing-songs, and Steve kicks his ankle. Eddie cackles as Robin makes a disgusted noise, and Nancy shakes her head.
“Just because you two are doing it again doesn’t mean we should have to hear about it,” Robin says. Steve gives her a helpless sort of shrug. Nancy finishes snipping off Robin’s other sleeve, and Robin lets out a sigh of relief as she turns to look at herself in the mirror. “Huh. That’s actually not that bad. It’s not terrible to be wearing anymore. Plus, I look pretty good.”
“Definitely an improvement,” Steve says approvingly, glancing over at her. He turns back to Eddie’s hair, fluffing up his bangs a little. “You want it up or down?”
Before he can answer, Nancy hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair up in person, actually,” she tells Eddie.
Robin’s brows furrow. “Yeah, wait a second, neither have I,” she says.
Eddie groans, slumping down in the chair until Steve nudges him to get him to sit up straight while he wipes his hands on the towel Robin had nabbed from the bathroom for him. “That’s because I don’t wear it up. Unless I’m at home,” he says. “And no one else is around. ’Cept for Wayne, I guess.”
“I’ve seen you with your hair up,” Steve says, brows furrowed in confusion.
Eddie waves dismissively. “Yeah, but that’s because we’re dating,” he says easily. Then, a mischievous grin spreads over his face, and Steve preemptively sighs. “And, uh, y’know, gotta have my hair up in order to—”
“Okay,” Robin says loudly, clapping her hands, “you almost done over there, Steve? I still need you to do my hair.”
“Well, unless Eddie wants it up—”
“I do not.”
“Then I’m done,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s shoulders a squeeze before moving out of the way so he can get up. Robin plops herself right down in the chair as soon as it’s empty, shaking her hair the way a dog might if it had gotten wet. Steve runs a brush through it, making a face when it keeps snagging on knots. “Did you not brush it after you woke up this morning?”
Robin shrugs. “No. Figured you’d do it for me,” she says, grinning, and Steve rolls his eyes. She looks up at him in the mirror, the hints of a genuine smile under the teasing one. “Thanks for doing this, by the way.”
“You got it,” he tells her, and Eddie comes to stand at his side, a scrutinizing sort of look on his face. Steve nudges him with his elbow. “What is it?”
“I feel like my outfit’s missing something,” he mutters, and Steve raises an amused brow as he works through a particularly difficult knot.
Sighing, Robin pouts. “Mine, too,” she says. “Or, y’know, it has a little too much ‘something.’”
Nancy perks up. “Oh! I have an idea! We’ll be right back,” she calls over her shoulder as she tugs Eddie out into the hallway.
Robin glances at Steve. “That was…weird,” she says, “don’t you think?”
“It’s always weird. Nothing about our friends isn’t weird,” Steve tells her. “Now quit moving around, I’m almost done brushing through all the knots.”
Huffing in annoyance, Robin does as she’s told, keeping still until Steve sets the brush down on their makeshift vanity. “Can you do it so that it’s, like, kinda out of my face? But keep it down, I don’t want all those fancy pins Nancy has,” she tells him. “And no curling irons. Or straighteners! I hate having hot things so close to my head, and I do not trust you not to burn my ear with one.”
Steve raises a brow at her. “I can do that,” he says, “but you’re gonna have to deal with a couple of pins if you want your hair out of your face.”
She makes a face, the kind of face she makes when she’s worried about tomato lumps in her marinara sauce. “Are they gonna be the scratchy kind that hurt my scalp, or are they the nice kind?” she asks, and Steve scoffs.
“Obviously the nice kind,” he tells her, and she grins, clearly pleased. “What, you think I don’t know you, Buckley?”
Her smile turns soft then. It’s not often that she’s soft with him; she’s soft when he needs her to be, of course, but she usually shows her love through snark and teasing, rather than fondness that isn’t cloaked in annoyance. “You’re having fun with this,” she notes, and it isn’t sarcastic, just an observation. “You like doing hair?”
Steve shrugs. “It’s one of the very few things I’m good at, other than sex and monster-slaying,” he jokes, and Robin swats at him. He tucks her hair behind her ear and puts a soft pin there, pink to match her dress, before pulling her bangs out in front of it on that side.
“You’re good at a lot of stuff,” Robin tells him, honest, like it’s just simply a fact and nothing more. “You’re good at baking. And cooking.”
“And keeping things clean,” Steve snorts, doing the same tuck-pin-pull on the opposite side of her head. “A regular housewife.”
Robin sighs. “You’re also good at sports. And keeping track of all those league statistics,” she adds, tilting her head thoughtfully until Steve nudges her into keeping it straight again. “I think that’s why you were so good at D&D.”
Steve fights a smile as he gives her hair a quick spray with the hairspray she usually has stashed away in her bathroom; she doesn’t quite like the smell of Farrah Fawcett, and he doesn’t want her to be wrinkling her nose in all the pictures she’s gonna have taken later on. “Don’t let Henderson hear you say that. He’s already hounding me about joining Hellfire as an ‘unofficial member,’” he says, doing little air-quotes to punctuate it, and Robin laughs.
“I’m serious, though! You’d be, like, killer at making spreadsheets,” she says, flapping her hand around in a gesture Steve doesn’t quite understand.
“Ah, yes,” he says flatly, “my dream career. Spreadsheet maker.”
Rolling her eyes, Robin fluffs the ends of her hair out and turns to face him. “You know what I meant,” she says, and he very much doesn’t. It must show on his face, because she waves her hand around again in that same gesture. “It’s, like—you’d be good at running a business. Keeping track of all that stuff. So—you should do something you wanna do, right? Like, go to culinary school o-or, like, cosmetology school, do something you’re good at, something you like to do, and—oh, you could even try to manage, like, a basketball team or something, get hired by the coach or whatever, I don’t know how sports leagues work—”
“Robin, Robin, slow down,” he tells her, “you’re making my head hurt. What are you saying?”
“I’m just worried, y’know, because I’m graduating and all, and—and you know I’m going to college, and I’m probably gonna do film school, because I really like film and—but I might want to do literature, I don’t know—point is…!” she trails off and takes a deep breath. “I’m figuring out what I want to do. And so is Nancy, now that her life plan’s been knocked all out of whack. And Eddie—well, he’s probably just gonna ride the government hush money until he hits his big break with his garbage music—”
“His music’s not garbage,” Steve says automatically, because it’s his job as a boyfriend, and Eddie’s lyrics are actually pretty good.
“Anyway, we’re all figuring it out,” Robin rushes to say, “and I’m just—I’m worried you’ll keep working whatever minimum wage jobs I take to make a little extra money during college until I find what I wanna do, and then you’re not gonna know what you wanna do, and so you’ll just follow me into that, o-or leave to go tour with Eddie or whatever, and you’ll end up all—”
“Dude,” Steve says, “woah.”
Robin groans. “I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m really worried about you.”
Steve takes her hands. “There’s no reason to be, Rob, I’m fine. I’ll figure out what I wanna do, and maybe what I wanna do is stick with you guys, is that so bad?” he asks, and Robin scowls.
“You should do something you’re passionate about,” she tells him. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” he says.
“I know you’re happy right now,” Robin huffs, like he’s being annoying on purpose, “but I want you to be happy, like, forever, which is totally gross and sentimental—”
“Aww, Robin, you care about me,” Steve teases, and Robin yanks her hands away, fake-gagging over her shoulder. “Robin, seriously, I’m okay. I’m figuring it out, too.”
She smiles at him, small and nervous. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Before either of them can say anything else, Nancy and Eddie come back into the room, and Eddie’s got his battle vest on over his nice graduation clothes. There’s a few new patches to it now, to cover the rips the demobats had tore into it, and some of the denim is darker than the rest, but it still looks badass. Eddie looks good in it, too, more like himself, and Steve can’t help but grin as he turns in a circle on his heel to show off.
“Whaddaya think?” Eddie asks, beaming.
“I think it ties it all together,” Nancy offers.
“You look great,” Steve tells him. “Very metal, babe.”
“Suits you,” Robin says. “Little contradictory with the whole formal vibe, but I can’t really say anything, I’m wearing Chucks with a fancy dress.”
Eddie’s smile is bright enough to light up the room.
*****
Nancy looks like she’s destined to be up there, at the podium in front of the sea of green-robed students. She’s all confidence, shoulders pushed back and head held high as she sets down her speech and adjusts the microphone.
“Hawkins High has not been kind to most of us,” she starts, and there’s hushed murmuring from the crowd, “and the events of the past few years have not been kind to any of us. On my first day here, I ate lunch in the library alone, because my best friend was out sick on the first day of school, and I was terrified of sitting alone in the cafeteria where everyone else could see me. When she came in the very next day, we ate lunch together every day at our table for over a year. But in November of 1983, Hawkins lost Barbara Holland. I lost my best friend. And in July of last year, I know many of you went through the same thing. In March, of this year, we lost three of our graduating class. Chrissy Cunningham. Fred Benson. Patrick McKinney.”
A mournful hush falls over the crowd.
He can see Nancy’s hands shaking, even here from the bleachers. “The scariest thing I had to worry about as a freshman was the social ramifications of sitting alone at lunch. The scariest thing we’ve had to worry about as seniors is an escaped serial killer,” she says, and she’s keeping the authoritative tone to her voice that keeps the crowd hushed, waiting on her every word. “But we’ve gotten through it. Every challenge that not only Hawkins High, but the world, has thrown at us. We push through for our friends, our family, our loved ones. And we honor those we’ve lost. We honor them by going on to do great things. By going on to become better people. More accepting and open-minded, because you never know what someone’s going through. You never know when a shoulder to cry on can be the thing that changes everything. You never know when just hanging out together can save someone’s life. When it can save the world.”
Friends take each others’ hands in the crowd of green robes. Her eyes glint with something indescribable.
“If you’re popular or if you’re on the very outskirts of the crowd, you matter. You deserve to walk out of here with your head held high, because you’ve accomplished something incredible. You deserve to follow your dreams for those who didn’t get the chance,” Nancy says, and her voice catches just slightly in her throat. “And I know that each and every one of you will do something great, whether that means curing the common cold or becoming a movie star or just being there for your friends. So, class of ’86, take your diploma and what you’ve learned here and save the world. Good luck, and congratulations! You’ve earned it!”
The crowd erupts into cheers.
*****
“Just let me put on one song,” Eddie begs, and Steve sighs.
The graduation party is in full swing; the cake’s been cut, the frosting that once read Congrats, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy! now reading ngrats, obin, and Nancy! and the adults are a couple of drinks in, whereas the kids are on their fourth round of a very heated game of poker using various snacks as betting chips. Max has been in charge of the music, which means it’s been excellent so far.
“If you wanna request a song, you have to ask Max,” Steve says for the fourth time in as many minutes, and Eddie scowls. Steve puts his hands up by his chest in surrender. “I’m not getting in the middle of another Mayfield-Munson debate. You’re on your own for this one, Eds.”
Eddie groans and heads off towards where Max is holding a Twizzler triumphantly over Mike’s head, and Steve turns to do a quick head-count. Hopper and Wayne are talking quietly over beers in the kitchen, El is getting her nails painted by Nancy as Robin braids Nancy’s hair and rambles on about something, Will and Erica are having a discussion that has both of them smiling lightly, and Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Max are playing poker. That’s everyone that had showed up, at least. Jonathan, Argyle, and Joyce had all been invited—the cake with Jonathan and Argyle’s names added is in the freezer in the garage, just in case they’d shown up, or in case they show up later—but they’d opted to hang back at the motel.
It’s still a little awkward between Jonathan and Nancy, and Argyle wants to comfort his best friend, and Joyce wants to comfort her son. Steve gets that.
“Hey, Harrington,” Hopper calls, “settle an argument for us.”
Steve heads into the kitchen, tilting his head in confusion. “Sure, what’s up?”
“You were in that Russian bunker for a day, right?” Wayne asks, and Hopper groans.
“We’ve been over this, it was eighteen hours,” he says, pointing the end of his beer bottle at Wayne like an accusatory finger, and Steve’s brows furrow as he does some mental math.
“No, Wayne’s right, it was a day,” Steve says. “I mean, unless we’re not counting the elevator as part of the bunker. Wait—why, exactly, are we talking about this?”
Wayne gives him an unreadable kind of look. “We were just talkin’ about you, son, that’s all,” he says, and Steve doesn’t care for that shit at all.
“Good or bad?” he asks, a little more than uneasy.
“I say we don’t count the elevator so that I get to be right,” Hopper says, steamrolling over Steve’s question, and Steve gives Wayne a wide-eyed look.
“Good or bad?” Steve reiterates, more urgently this time.
Wayne passes him a beer. “Good things, son, always good things,” he says, and he turns back to Hopper, eyes narrowed. “You’re not countin’ the elevator? Are you crazy?”
Steve pops off the cap of the beer and takes a swig. “Yeah, no, gotta agree with Wayne, the elevator should count,” he says. “That sh—that was terrifying.”
At the omission of the swear, Hopper gives him an odd look, one that reads You and I have said much worse in front of each other and to each other, what’s the big deal? and Steve takes another, longer sip of beer so that he doesn’t have to answer. He respects Wayne too much to curse purposefully in front of the guy. Not that he doesn’t respect Hopper, because he very much does, he admires the guy to a fault, despite everything, but it’s a vastly different kind of respect, that’s all.
“Well, whether it was eighteen hours or a day, you shouldn’t have had to go through that,” Hopper says, and it’s just as much about brushing his inaccurate guess aside as it is about the sentiment, and Steve gives him an uncertain smile. Hopper’s brows furrow. “Seriously, that was…I know how awful it must’ve been for you and that Buckley girl down there.”
Oh, shit, right. Steve had almost forgotten about Hopper’s whole thing with the Russians. He doesn’t know how he could’ve forgotten, but…he’s forgotten a lot of things over the years. He shoves the blame onto his faulty brain—partially the Russians’ fault, too—and winces. “Yeah, I, um—I mean, it was either the kids got out or they didn’t,” he says with a shrug. “Easiest choice I’ve ever had to make.”
Hopper nods. “You’re a good kid.”
A warmth spreads in Steve’s chest that he does his very best to ignore. “Thanks.”
“You and the rest talk about this summer yet?” Hopper asks him, and Steve’s brows furrow in confusion. “Made all your plans?”
“Uh, no,” Steve says slowly, “why? Did anyone say something?”
Wayne jabs an elbow in Hopper’s side. “Nah,” he says, and they have this weird, silent conversation right in front of him. Steve is an entirely new level of perplexed. Wayne nods once at Hopper, then turns back to Steve. “Head back out to the party, mingle some. I know Ed’s been lookin’ forward to celebratin’ with you.”
As if on cue, a harsh guitar riff sounds out from the stereo, and Steve goes back into the living room, not at all surprised to see Eddie pretending to shred on air-guitar, one foot propped up on the coffee table as he head-bangs along to the song. A small, fond smile works its way onto his face as Nancy sidles up to him, a Coke bottle in her hand, drops of condensation pooling between the glass and her fingers.
“Big entertainer, isn’t he?” she observes, and Steve huffs out a laugh, watching as Eddie pulls El up onto the table to let her mime playing the drums. The sight is remarkably adorable, and it makes that same spot in his chest all warm, but there’s something pitting to it, too, something that feels a lot like longing. Nancy gives him a scrutinizing sort of look; it isn’t mean, just analytical, like he’s a diagram of a particularly interesting deep-sea creature at an aquarium. “I think he’d be a good fit for that dream of yours, for the record.”
Steve blinks at her. “The dream—? The RV and the six kids?” he asks her quietly, and she nods, a knowing glint in her eyes. Steve feels his face flush a little, and he sips on his beer to cool himself down before shaking his head. “Nah, I—I mean, you know what it’s like. For people like us. I’m not—I mean, I’m happy to give that up for him. He’s—my life’s all the better for him, y’know?”
Nancy shrugs. “Who says you have to give it up?” she asks, and Steve’s brows furrow.
“Biology, I think,” he says, and she laughs, the kind of surprised laugh that bubbles out of her when she’s not expecting a witty comment from him.
She clinks the tip of her Coke bottle against his beer bottle. “We’ll see,” she tells him, all cryptic in the way she gets sometimes, like she knows something he doesn’t. He’s entertained the thought of an all-knowing Nancy Wheeler more than once, one that’s omnipotent and is simply merciful enough not to use her powers for evil. “And, um, thank you for this. The party. Real sweet of you to host, Steve.”
Steve grins at her. “Of course! It’s a big milestone for all of you guys,” he says. He glances over to where Robin is now intensely mouthing the lyrics with Dustin in front of the coffee table. “Plus, Robin seems a lot more comfortable now that she’s gotten the chance to change.”
As soon as they’d stepped foot into Steve’s house, Robin had made a beeline for his closet and stolen one of his dress shirts, tucking it into the old pair of tuxedo pants at the back of his closet, the ones he’d worn to a family member’s wedding during his freshman year. Them being a couple sizes smaller is the only reason the pants had fit her. But she looks much more at ease now than she had in the dress, even with the sleeves having been cut off. Nancy and Eddie hadn’t changed, though one of the sparkly silver straps of Nancy’s dress has been gradually slipping over her shoulder over the past hour, and Eddie’s discarded his tie and undone about four of the buttons of his shirt.
It puts the black widow tattoo on his chest on display, along with the slightly faded purple bruise right above it. Steve goes a little red every time he sees it.
“She looks better in a suit anyway,” Nancy says loftily, ducking her head as she smiles at Robin, her curls brushing against her bare shoulder. “More at home.”
“I’m proud of you guys,” Steve tells her, “for the record. All three of you.”
Nancy’s mouth turns up into a small, shy smile. “Thanks.”
He knocks their shoulders together gently. “Your speech was fantastic,” he says, then he tilts his head consideringly. “Little corny at the end, but I’m always a sucker for that kinda stuff. Super motivational and shit.”
Laughing, Nancy knocks her knuckles against his arm in a playful punch. “You’re such a jerk,” she says, and there’s no bite to it.
Steve looks at her, really looks at her. She’s so much lighter now that the end of the world isn’t impending, won’t ever be impending again. She looks younger, carries herself like she had when he’d first seen her in the hallways of Hawkins High—a little unsure but ready to face whatever comes her way. Not necessarily naiveté, but more like optimism, like she’s excited for what the future might hold. It’s a good look on her.
“I forgive you, by the way,” he tells her, because he has, and she gives him a wide-eyed look. He nods towards Eddie, who has since gotten off of the table in favor of chasing Lucas and Dustin around. “For the basement.”
Her big eyes are a little misty, and he says nothing about it, because he knows she hates it when people point it out. “You—I—thank you,” she stammers. “I’m glad. But you don’t have to unless—”
“I mean it,” Steve reassures her, firm but gentle. “We’re friends, Nance. I like being your friend, and it feels like…feels like we have a chance to start over. I’m glad you’re in my life, and I want us to be on equal footing.”
There’s always been an intensity to Nancy Wheeler’s expressions, and it’s always been something about her that Steve has been fond of. But now, she looks the way that she had when she’d told him about everything in that corner booth of the bistro, small and vulnerable. But it’s better this time, hopeful instead of scared.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“’Course,” he tells her. “Now, uh, not to cut this short, but I should probably stop Eddie before he trips over the rug again—”
Whump!
“Too late,” Nancy says, biting back a laugh as Steve sighs.
“I’m okay!” Eddie groans from his spot on the ground, and Steve crouches down to offer him a hand. Eddie grins at him. “My knight in shining armor.”
Steve rolls his eyes fondly, grins back. “Yeah, yeah, c’mon, let’s go get you some ice,” he says, and Eddie whines, lolls his head back like he’s exasperated, but he goes with Steve into the kitchen anyway. At Wayne’s amused look, Steve nods at the freezer. “Clumsy here ate it on the rug.”
“Steve,” Eddie hisses, mortified, probably because Hopper is also here, and Steve grabs an ice pack from the fridge and turns back to Eddie with an expectant look. Red in the face, Eddie offers his arm. “Think I bruised my elbow.”
Putting on a playful, teasing pout, Steve presses the ice pack to Eddie’s elbow. “Aww, poor baby banged his elbow. Tragic.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. “On graduation day, Steve? Really?”
“I’m allowed to make fun of you every day. S’what you signed up for, Eds,” Steve reminds him, and Eddie clicks his tongue. Wayne clears his throat, and Steve blinks, flashing him and Hopper a nervous smile. “Sorry. Carry on, we’re not even here.”
Saluting with his free hand—the wrong hand, Steve notes with amusement—Eddie nods. “Yep! Not here. Pay no mind!”
Hopper does that weird, arms-crossed, hands-in-pits stance that dads do, but before he can say anything, Dustin comes barreling into the kitchen. “Holy shit, Eddie—”
“Language,” everyone but Eddie cuts in.
“—you know about that thing?” Dustin finishes, affixing Eddie with a look so imploring, Steve feels some apocalypse instincts flaring up again, and Eddie nods. Wayne and Hopper look surprisingly tuned into the conversation. “It’s here. Like, not here, but they said—they called the trailer, and then you didn’t pick up, so they called here—”
“Why would they call here?” Hopper asks, and is promptly ignored as Dustin bulldozes on.
“—and it’s finished! It’s finished and they said you have to come pick it up right now,” he finishes breathlessly, hands on his knees.
Eddie’s eyes go wide. “It’s not supposed to be finished for another couple of hours!” he hisses, like if he’s quiet enough, Steve, who’s directly beside him, won’t hear. “They said it wouldn’t be done ’til six! Are you serious?!”
Wayne steps forward, brows furrowed. “They can’t hold it until then?” he asks Dustin, who shakes his head frantically.
“No, I asked, they said they can only hold it for another hour,” he urges.
Hopper frowns. “It takes forty-five minutes just to drive out there, doesn’t it?” he asks, and Eddie lets out a fretful noise so high-pitched that Steve is kind of worried for the dogs in Loch Nora.
Max steps into the kitchen, her eyes comically wide behind her glasses. “Dustin was shouting something about the—” she cuts herself off when she sees Steve, which...okay, what the hell is that about? She looks to Eddie. “Is it really ready?”
Robin’s next into the kitchen, almost manic. “What are you still waiting around for?!” she demands, pointing accusatorily at Eddie. “Let’s go! Go, go, go!”
“Shit!” Eddie snaps, turning to Wayne. “You gotta come with us, I can’t—”
“I know,” Wayne says, face set with determination, “let’s go, c’mon—”
“I’ll get your shoes!” Robin says, rushing out, Dustin trailing behind her, and Hopper and Max round on Steve as he turns to follow, to see what all the fuss is about.
“Nope,” is all Hopper says, and Steve stops in his tracks.
Max just grins at him, smug, like she knows something he doesn’t.
To her credit, that’s definitely true.
As the slightly panicked ruckus moves out of the house, the noise cutting off as the front door shuts, Steve heads back out into the living room. The kids and Nancy are having a very quiet conversation, one that Mike in particular seems to be extremely reluctant to be a part of, so Steve has the sneaking suspicion that it’s got something to do with whatever he’s not allowed to know, that it has something to do with him.
“Is, uh—is anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, and six heads snap in his direction, a mix of surprise, careful neutrality, and sheepishness, depending on who he’s looking at.
Nancy’s face gives nothing away. “Nope,” she tells him. “Want another slice of cake?”
“I—what?” he asks dumbly. “What the hell is happening right now?”
Lucas pats his ankle from where he’s seated on the floor. “Don’t worry about it, big guy,” he says. “We’re playing another round, want Will to deal you in?”
“You nerds are gonna lose,” Erica taunts by her small mountain of snacks, and Steve sighs.
This might as well be happening.
He sits down between Will and El. “Sure,” he says, both amused and bewildered, “deal me in.”
The thing is, Steve is terrible at poker. It’s not that he doesn’t have a good poker face, because he does. He can make himself as unreadable as he wants to be as long as he isn’t high, can keep his face a blank slate for as long as he needs to. But poker rounds take so long, especially when there’s a lot of people, and Steve always starts thinking about other stuff, which means he’s not really paying a whole lot of attention. He either bets too much and ends up losing, or he folds on a winning hand, all because he can’t help but let his mind wander.
He’s not mad about it, it’s just a fact of life. The Upside Down exists, Back to the Future is confusing, and Steve is bad at poker. He’s never won a round of it in his entire life—lost on purpose once, for a game of strip poker in his sophomore year, when he’d been trying to get Cindy Matthews’ attention—and he’s never been mad about that. Poker’s fun, but it’s not fun enough for him to actually try to win at.
Which is why it’s remarkably suspicious when he wins the first round. And then the second. Then the third, and the fourth.
And then all the kids fold for the fifth round.
“Okay,” he says when Erica’s pile of winnings has gone from a small mountain to a mere pile, “what’s going on with you guys?”
Max and Nancy share an amused look while Lucas and Will give him matching wide-eyed looks of feigned innocence. Erica doesn’t bother trying to hide her irritation, glaring daggers into the side of Steve’s head. Mike shuffles through his two cards with a scowl. “Nothing’s going on, Steve,” he mutters, saying Steve’s name like it physically pains him to, “we’re all willingly and voluntarily playing poker with you, and you’re winning.”
Steve rolls his eyes and turns to El. “What’s going on?” he asks, because she’s big on the whole ‘not lying’ thing, and he figures she’s his best bet, unless he pisses Erica off enough for her to spill the beans.
El looks at him, both amused and seemingly sorry she can’t tell him, and she proceeds to pretend to zip her lips, tossing away the key. Lucas pretends to catch it and pocket it, and Steve groans. She pats his knee sympathetically. “Sorry,” she offers, “but it is a secret.”
“Top secret,” Max agrees.
“The secretest,” Erica adds, snaking a hand towards Steve’s winnings, and he lets her, because he hasn’t won, not really.
Lucas leans back on his hands and looks at Steve consideringly. “I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t let something slip sooner.”
“Who, Eddie? Or Dustin?” Mike asks, then he laughs. “Neither of them are great at keeping things quiet.”
“Especially not from Steve,” Erica agrees.
Will hums noncommittally. “You’d be surprised at the secrets they’re keeping from you idiots,” he says with a quiet laugh, and Mike nudges Will’s leg with his foot half-heartedly.
Steve claps his hands. “Uh, hello? Secrets being kept? What the hell is going on?” he asks, and he wonders what it could possibly be.
Nancy pats him on the back. “You’ll see,” she tells him. She turns to Max. “It’s been, what, half an hour? They’re probably almost there, right?”
“No, no, it’s been, like, forty-five,” Max corrects, “I think they’re there already.”
“Where’s ‘there?’” Steve asks, and El hands him the queen of hearts.
“For you,” she says, and Steve smiles at her. She doesn’t really get how poker works, but that’s alright. Neither did he, the first time around. El picks up Lucas’ cards and squints at them, handing Steve the queen of spades. “‘There’ is a secret.”
Steve frowns and looks up at Nancy, who seems remarkably excited. “I can’t tell you,” she says, smiling, “but it’s good. You’ll like it.”
Off the top of his head, Steve can’t even think of anything notable that’s a forty-five minute drive from Hawkins. Maybe the theater two towns over, the one with reclining seats, but that can’t be it. Eddie’s mentioned a game store that’s in that same town a couple of times, but Nancy says Steve’s gonna like it, and he’s pretty sure nothing in that store would be of marked interest to him unless he were shopping for someone else.
Erica tosses a pack of Ho-Hos at him. “Stop being nosy just ’cuz you miss the king of the nerds,” she says. “Go get me ice cream.”
Duty-bound by a promise made in a mall that no longer exists, Steve gets up and heads to the kitchen, fixing a bowl of ice cream for Erica. He always keeps a quart of butterscotch in the freezer for her, and neither of them have ever acknowledged that fact. Steve figures it’s probably too far on the sentimental side for her to want to talk about. But she’s important to him, whether she likes it or not, so her quart of butterscotch is tucked in the freezer, right next to Robin’s black cherry, Eddie’s coffee java chip, and Dustin’s chocolate and peanut butter.
“Here you go,” he says, handing the bowl over to her, and the phone starts to ring.
Before he can even start to make his way over, Will darts to it and picks it up. “Harrington residence, Will Byers speaking,” he says cheerfully. There’s a bit of a pause. “Oh, awesome, you guys made it in time?”
Another long pause. El reaches up to hand Steve the queen of clubs from Mike’s hand. “Three,” she says, “one more to go.”
Will hums. “Okay, so what does that—mhm,” he says, then blinks. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to keep up and can’t. “Wait, wh—Eddie, slow down—okay, okay! Yeah…no…hm, I dunno. I can ask?”
The pause is even longer this time, and Hopper eventually gets up and goes to the phone, gesturing for Will to hand it over. “Munson Junior,” he greets, always gruff. Hopper makes a face. “No, obviously not.”
“What are they talking about?” Steve asks Nancy, who gives him a comically exaggerated shrug, her eyes all bugged-out in her head. Steve gives her a flat look, and she smiles at him. “If you’re not gonna tell me—”
“We’re not,” the kids chorus.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Hopper’s saying, and Steve tunes back in. “No, yeah, he’s caught on that something’s up.”
Steve blinks. “Uh, hello, I’m right here,” he says, “I can hear you talking about me.”
Hopper waves a hand dismissively in his direction. “Put your uncle on the phone, kid,” he instructs, then he frowns in confusion. “...Alright, yeah, I’ll tell him.”
“Tell who?” Steve asks, and Hopper covers the bottom of the phone with his hand.
“Munson Junior said to tell you he owes you one,” Hopper tells him. He hears something from the phone that makes him turn back to the conversation, putting the hand previously covering it on his hip. “Wayne, yeah, I’m here. You guys pick it up yet?”
El hands him the queen of diamonds, which she has visibly ransacked the deck for. “I did it,” she whispers, clearly proud of herself, and Steve ruffles the few short inches of hair that have grown back since it had been shaved.
“Proud of you, kid,” he tells her.
Hopper sighs. “Alright, well, hurry back. Yep. Bye,” he says, and he hangs up the phone, turning to the rest of them. “They’re on their way.”
The kids erupt into cheers, and Steve turns to Nancy, who puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes excitedly, as if this should mean something significant.
“We’ve still got time for a few more rounds, if you guys wanna play again,” Erica offers.
Lucas snorts. “You’re only saying that ’cuz you wanna win all that sugar back,” he tells her, matter-of-fact. “You know Mom’s just gonna make you throw it all out when we get home, don’t you?”
Erica smacks him on the arm. “Shut up, nerd, I’m better at sneaking things into the house than you are,” she says with a tone that hints at something the two of them know about, and Lucas’ eyes go wide. Erica smiles smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
“I don’t want to play more poker,” El says. “Can we play the game with the fish?”
“Yeah, alright,” Mike agrees, and Will nods as Max sits down between them, “I’m down for some Go Fish.”
Steve tilts his head. “Yeah, okay. But if I win, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
The kids share a significant look with one another. “Sure,” they chorus, and Steve narrows his eyes.
Little cheaters, all of them.
Steve doesn’t win a single round, and he’s pretty sure it’s only because the kids have this weird, conspiratorial lying going on. A couple of times, he catches them in a lie, handing someone else a card they’d claimed they hadn’t had. Except for El, who ruthlessly adheres to the rules of the game, which Steve appreciates.
Then again, he’s pretty sure she’s using her powers to shuffle the deck around when she thinks no one’s looking, so what does he know?
At the end of the sixth round, Steve hoists himself up onto the couch, where Nancy has been spectating the entire time, and he nods at Hopper, who’s made himself at home in the recliner by the TV. “Enjoying yourself?” Steve asks Nancy flatly, and she gives him a sympathetic smile as she pats his hand.
“Oh, c’mon, you’ll find out in, like,”—she glances down at her watch—“three minutes anyway. No harm, no foul, right?”
“You’re harming my emotions, Nance. My trust. It’s shattered,” he says, voice dripping in sarcasm, and Nancy giggles as she leans back against the cushions.
“It’s not that shattered, clearly,” she teases. “You trusted me enough to stop questioning me, didn’t you? Besides, like I told you before, you’ll like this surprise.”
“But today’s supposed to be about you guys,” Steve tells her. “Why am I getting surprised?”
Nancy shrugs. “You’ll have to ask Eddie,” she says, “he’s the one who wanted to do it today—”
She’s cut off by a bunch of honking coming from the driveway, and everyone turns to look at Steve, Children of the Corn style. He shudders. “Alright, alright, Jesus, I’m going,” he says, “quit looking at me like that.”
He gets up and heads to the front door, stretching as he does. He toes his sneakers on before he heads out onto the doorstep, eyes wide at the absolute sight that awaits him in the driveway.
Standing in front of a beautiful, sleek, utterly massive RV is Eddie, who sweeps his hands out in a grand gesture with a blinding smile. “Surprise!” Eddie shouts, and Robin and Dustin come piling out of the door on the side, quick to pull Steve over from the front door to the RV. It’s really pretty, and it’s definitely brand-new. Not a scratch on it. Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder and jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the gorgeous monster. “Ta-da! What do you think?”
Heart in his throat, Steve’s eyes dart over the exterior. It’s not, like, a regular color, it’s the exact same maroon as his beemer, it’s gotta be a custom paint job, and it’s so much bigger than he’s seen before. “You—is this—what?” he asks, finding himself at a loss for words.
“It’s a thank-you gift,” Eddie tells him, voice soft, “for everything you’ve done for me. For all of us. I…I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, Steve, and…I just wanted this to be the start of showing you how much we all appreciate you.”
That warmth in his chest blooms again, and he swallows. “You bought me an RV?” he asks, voice a little shaky, and Eddie beams at him as he nods.
“Not just any RV,” Robin chimes in. “It’s a top-of-the-line, custom Fleetwood Bounder! It was made just for you, Steve.”
“We all helped pitch in for the design process,” Dustin adds. “There’s a ton of cool shit in there, and enough beds for—! Well, I’ll let Eddie explain that part.”
Steve turns his attention back to Eddie, who goes a little pink. “I figured, um—I figured that we could take a trip around the country with everyone,” he says, then hurries to correct himself. “I mean, ‘everyone’ being the kids, Buckley, and Nancy, that is.”
For the first time in a long time, Steve is completely speechless. A quick look behind him confirms that everyone from inside has come out to see his reaction, and he looks over to Nancy, who’s smiling knowingly.
“One step closer,” she mouths, and he thinks she’s fantastic. A lying little sneak, yeah, but a fantastic one.
He turns back to Eddie and pulls him into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Jesus, Eddie, it’s supposed to be your day.”
“You surprised me with D&D,” Eddie murmurs, arms tightening around Steve’s shoulders. “Had to up the ante.”
Steve barks out a surprised laugh and pulls back, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you bought me a Bounder.”
Eddie grins at him, and it’s as radiant as the sun. “What do you say, Steve? Up for another adventure?”
“With you? Always.”
*****