The studio lights feel warmer than you expected.

You’re sitting on the familiar gray couch, hands folded in your lap, trying not to bounce your knee. To your left is Joe Keery, relaxed in that effortless way that makes it look like he’s always meant to be here. He’s wearing a dark blazer over a T-shirt, hair perfectly Steve Harrington-esque without trying.

Jimmy Fallon grins at both of you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“So,” Jimmy says, glancing between you, “you two just wrapped another season of Stranger Things.”

Applause erupts.

“You play Amber Henderson, Dustin’s older sister,” Jimmy continues, “and Steve Harrington’s love interest.”

Joe nods. “Lucky guy,” he says easily.

You shoot him a look. “Oh, please.”

The audience laughs, and Jimmy leans forward, eyes sparkling. “Now, fans have had… thoughts.”

You already know where this is going.

“A lot of thoughts,” Jimmy adds. “Specifically about the fact that the chemistry between Steve and Amber feels… very real.”

Joe clears his throat, suddenly fascinated by his hands.

You smile politely. “Well, we spend a lot of time together on set.”

“Mhm,” Jimmy says. “And off set?”

The audience oooohs.

You feel your cheeks warm. Joe glances at you, just briefly, and there’s that look — the one that always makes your stomach flip. The one that says we talked about this, didn’t we?

“Well,” you say carefully, “we’re good friends.”

Joe nods. “Yeah. Really good friends.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. “Interesting. Because fans have compiled—” he gestures dramatically “—literal evidence.”

The screen behind you lights up with photos: the two of you laughing at a wrap party, walking side by side in New York, Joe holding your coffee while you tie your shoe.

You groan softly and cover your face.

Joe laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, that coffee thing—”

“—was not a thing,” you jump in quickly. “I asked him to hold it.”

Jimmy doesn’t let up. “So you’re telling me there’s nothing going on?”

You hesitate — just a second too long.

Joe feels it too.

“We’ve,” he starts, then stops. “I mean—”

You glance at him. His expression isn’t nervous. It’s thoughtful. Almost fond.

“We’ve gone on a few dates,” He finally admitted.

The audience explodes.

Jimmy slaps the desk. “YES! Okay! Finally!”

Joe laughs, shaking his head. “We didn’t plan on saying that.”

Jimmy softens a little. “So… are you together?”

You look at Joe again. Not the character. Not Steve Harrington. Just Joe. The guy who walked you home after late shoots. The guy who listens when you talk about your nerves. The guy who hasn’t rushed you once.