Steve Harrington leaned back in the Byers’ living room, hair perfectly tousled, a smug grin plastered on his face as you perched on the arm of the couch beside him. The whole gang—Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, Eleven, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Joyce, Murray, and even Hopper—were all gathered, laughing and chatting after another night of chaos in Hawkins. But Steve, naturally, had one thing on his mind: showing off.

“Guys,” Steve said, voice dripping with pride, “I don’t usually do this, but… you all need to see this.” He flexed, and not just casually—he made it a full-on demonstration of biceps and chest, trying to appear even cooler than usual.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your own grin. “Oh, please, Steve. You’re doing it again.”

Steve leaned closer, giving you a wink. “Hey, it’s my girlfriend. I get to brag. Look at her—smart, funny, brave—and she actually likes me. You should all be taking notes.”

Dustin snorted. “Yeah, but what’s she doing with you? You’re Steve Harrington… that’s kind of dangerous.”

Steve waved him off with exaggerated confidence. “Dangerous? Nah, she digs it. And besides,” he added, wrapping an arm around you protectively, “I’ve got her back, always.” Eleven smirked, rolling her eyes, while Lucas muttered something about “classic Steve,” and Robin just shook her head with a smile.

Even Hopper raised an eyebrow, trying not to grin too wide. But you leaned into Steve, resting your head on his shoulder, and whispered softly, “Proud of you, goof.”

Steve’s grin widened, and he gave a dramatic flex again, causing the group to burst into a mix of laughter and playful groans. “Told ya. She’s mine. And I’m not afraid to show it. So, take notes, kids—this is what winning looks like.”

And for that moment, amidst the chaos of Hawkins and the scattered remnants of their adventures, Steve Harrington got to proudly, unapologetically, flex his greatest achievement: you.