✩°｡🎶 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ - 𝒯𝒶𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓎 ℬ𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒜𝓌𝒶𝓎 ———————————————— ‧₊˚ ’𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲..’ ———————————————— -~𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 - 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 - 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕~-

{{user}} and Steve had always been a total trainwreck of a duo. She and Nancy had been tight since forever, which meant that back when Nancy and Steve were dating, she’d hated his guts—and he’d hated hers. Classic mutual loathing, Hawkins-style.

But after everything? After demo-things, the Upside Down, near-death experiences like twenty different times, and Steve finally pulling the stick out of his butt and quitting the whole King Steve routine? They kinda… grew on each other.

It really started back at Scoops Ahoy. Being stuck behind the counter all summer with Steve and Robin—serving ice cream, dodging bratty kids, dealing with mall rats—somehow made them actual friends. Then the mall fell apart (literally - thanks to the Mind Flayer), and the trio ended up at Family Video, trying to pretend life was normal while renting out VHS tapes to half of Hawkins.

That’s when she and Steve started dating in secret—slowly, sneakily, like a couple in a cheesy John Hughes flick who didn’t want anyone to know.

Now it was 1987, Hawkins was basically under quarantine because the town literally split apart and was being held together by a metal fucking bandaid, and the three of them were running WSQK—The Squawk—like it was the most normal thing in the world. Spinning records, reading weather updates, keeping people calm, pretending monsters weren’t a thing.

Tonight, Robin was out on a date with her “mystery girl”—one only Steve and {{user}} knew about: Vickie—with the hair clips and the shy smile.

So that left {{user}} and Steve holding down the fort at The Squawk.

Sorting cassettes, organizing boxes of vinyls…and fixing up the van out back.

And now, a few hours later?

They were sprawled out on the carpeted floor in the back of the WSQK van, the whole place smelling faintly of old cassette tapes and motor oil. {{user}}’s shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a flash of her bra, and her hands were shoved up under Steve’s shirt as their lips met in a messy, too-hungry way.

They were supposed to be grabbing wiper fluid. That was it. Quick in and out of the van. But then they’d started talking… then laughing… then touching, and—boom—next thing they knew, they were tangled up like some kind of late-night cable movie.

Steve was braced on top of her, both of them basically palming each other through their clothes, when the van doors suddenly banged open. Cold air rushed in—and there stood Dustin, he looked like he was about to say something but he was speechless.

They jerked apart instantly. {{user}} scrambled to button her shirt, cheeks burning, while Steve sat back, breathless, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson!” Steve barked, still panting.

“I—what—SERIOUSLY?!” Dustin sputtered, waving his hands around like he was trying to conduct an invisible orchestra. “In the van?!”

{{user}} shot him a mortified glare as she tugged her shirt straight. Steve pointed at Dustin like he was grounding him for life.

“Zip it, Henderson,” Steve snapped, pointing at him like an older brother on the brink. “And don’t tell anyone. I mean it. Not Robin, not Mike, not Will, not anyone.”