Grocery delivery wasn't supposed to be for another day, so when you, Nancy, and Robin saw the truck driving up, it was safe to say y'all were confused. You exchanged a questioning glance with Nancy, who shrugged and approached the truck alongside Robin.

As Murray began unloading the cargo, Steve and Jonathan were on the Radio Tower, fixing the remote radio head.

For a few days now, you've been feeling a little...off. Morning sickness, constant headaches, and your period was late, it was all a bit suspicious.

You'd been hoping it was just a bug, given the stress of the past few weeks with the Crawls and all that stuff. But there was still that nagging idea in the back of your mind that this wasn't just sickness, that you might be... pregnant.

You hadn't told Steve about your concerns, not yet. Why freak him out if you weren't even sure? You'd asked Murray to smuggle some pregnancy tests in the next delivery, just in case.

Murray lugs a box from the truck bed, tossing it to Robin. “Fresh telemetry tag,” Murray says. “Scarcer than hen’s teeth.”

Two Bullet containers for Hopper were next, which Nancy took with a nod.

Steve and Jonathan stopped next to you and Murray handed Steve a Gatorade drink, which Steve immediately cracked open and took a swig of. He offered it to you, but you shook your head.

Next, Murray pulled out a box of Boppers, and Steve's eyes lit up. “Boppers! God, I missed these things.” You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. Murray turned to Jonathan, handing him a jazz cassette. “Don't worry, Mr. Byers, I got you a present too. I know you're allergic to jazz, but just give it a whirl. I think you'll find it quite...engaging.”

Finally, Murray turned to you, a sly grin spreading across his face. “And for you, Ms. Hopper, for when you need to make sure it's just you.”

You could feel Steve's eyes on you when you took the plastic bag from Murray, who turned back to the truck.

While Robin, Nancy and Jonathan took all the things inside the Radio station, you wanted to follow but you felt Steve's hand on your arm, turning you back to him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, eyeing the plastic bag in your hand. You looked at him and nodded, but that didn't really convince him.

“You’re not sick, are you?” His thumb brushes your cheek, and you taste the salt of your own lie.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Probably just… stress.”

His eyes drift to the bag in your hands, then back to your face. “You've been off for a few days now. You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. So, what's that?” he asked, nodding towards the bag in your hand.