Archive of Our Own ^beta

After the mall is destroyed, Steve comes to the startling realization that he, Nancy, and Jonathan have somehow become…friends. 

It starts as an accident, when Steve keeps running into them as he’s dropping Dustin off. It’s always a little awkward, but any conversation is brief enough that Steve can avoid any lingering weirdness, backing out with some flimsy excuse. But then Nancy starts intentionally stopping Steve—asking him about Dustin, Steve’s recovering concussion, his useless hunt for a new job—and always with Jonathan at her side, looking awkward about the whole thing, but never actually turning tail and running.

Steve wonders if it’s because of their most recent near-death experience—as if that was all it took to thaw the lingering tension from his senior year. Or maybe Nancy and Jonathan interpreted Steve checking on them in the ambulance in the mall parking lot as a peace offering. Whatever the reason, the more Nancy and Jonathan rope Steve into conversation, the less awkward it feels.

And then one day at the Wheelers’ house, after watching Dustin race down the basement stairs to play DND, Nancy says, “So, we were thinking about watching a movie in the living room.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Uh…cool. Sounds fun.”

“I have popcorn,” she adds.

“Okay,” Steve says, slower this time. 

“So…do you want to join us?” 

“Oh,” Steve says again. He glances at Jonathan, expecting a wrinkled nose of disdain, or something that conveys he’s being held here against his will. But Jonathan is just watching Steve silently, as though he’s waiting for his answer, too.

And the thing is, Jonathan is moving to California in a few months, and Nancy is graduating and going to college next year, and there isn’t much time between now and then, so…shouldn’t he spend what little they have left mending some burned bridges?

Besides, Steve has a good thing going for him right now. He has Dustin, Robin, and Erica (the latter maybe reluctantly, but still.) He has friends to drive to arcades, movies, and drive-ins, and to fill his empty house, and he has someone to call when he has a nightmare about interdimensional monsters. And anyway, Steve is over Nancy, so why shouldn’t he watch a movie with her and her boyfriend? He’s grown a lot in the past year; he’s matured. Technically, he’s an adult. Accepting an invitation to watch a movie with his ex and her boyfriend is the kind of thing mature adults do.

Probably.

So finally, Steve says, “Sure, yeah. Why not?”

Jonathan’s posture unstiffens, and Nancy blinks, like she hadn’t actually thought Steve would say yes, before her face brightens. 

“Alright,” she says, tamping down on her sudden smile. “Great.” 

After that, it just becomes routine. When Steve drops Dustin off at the Wheelers’, he sticks around to watch a movie that Nancy picked and/or Jonathan can’t believe Steve’s never seen. Sometimes, they drop the kids off at the movie theater and sit a few rows behind them, and when Mike makes his usual, annoying commentary, Steve throws popcorn at the back of his head, hides a smile when Jonathan snorts under his breath, and makes up an excuse when Nancy asks what’s so funny. Other times, they drop the kids off at the arcade and pick something up to eat while they wait for them to finish; once, they’d actually stayed, and even though Dustin had acted put out about it, he showed them how to play Galaga, which Nancy got way too invested in and promptly beat all of them at by a long shot.

Anyway. It’s been nice, is all. 

It confuses the hell out of Robin.

When Steve tells her about Galaga, she frowns, and when he asks her what’s wrong, she sighs and says, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What?” Steve says. “Why would I get hurt?”

Robin gives him a look. 

Steve rolls his eyes. He thinks about telling Robin what it was like, two years ago—how, on the night the three of them fought the Demogorgon, he felt like he was a part of something. How it felt like the three of them were a cohesive unit in a way he’d never felt with Tommy and Carol, and how he’d fooled himself into thinking that’d be the start of…well, something

He’d gotten Nancy back after that, of course—after a lot of deserved groveling—and that was more than he could’ve hoped for. But Jonathan just…disappeared. He faded back into the background, avoided eye contact in the halls, and ate lunch alone, like he used to. He still talked to Nancy, but he didn’t acknowledge Steve at all, as if none of it had even happened, and it made Steve feel…well, embarrassed. Especially given that, after everything, he’d expected the three of them to become actual friends.

So maybe that’s why it’s so nice, hanging out with Nancy and Jonathan now. Sure, maybe Nancy and Jonathan have spent the past year creating inside jokes that Steve doesn’t understand; maybe they have a way of being around each other that feels so much more natural than what Steve thought he had with Nancy. Maybe, sometimes, Steve watches Nancy lean into Jonathan’s side, or Jonathan laugh at one of Nancy’s rare jokes, and feels a spike of something painful in his chest. 

But it’s fine. It’s good. Things between the three of them feel, for once, normal. 

So instead, Steve just says, “Seriously, Robin, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

Robin looks unconvinced, but she drops the subject.

It doesn’t come up again until the two of them are at the drive-in with Dustin and Erica. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t like the drive-in—the price of snacks is outrageous, and the place loses a bit of its magic when you’re not there with a hot date. He’d much prefer spending his weekend at the regular movie theater, his house, or even the arcade—at least those options have air-conditioning. But Dustin and Erica love the drive-in, so here they are, spending another Saturday in stifling hot air, getting attacked by mosquitoes, and sitting through a movie Steve didn’t even want to see.

At least the popcorn’s good.

As Steve’s walking with Dustin to the car before the previews finish, their arms loaded with over-priced movie snacks, Dustin steps around an ant hill and says, “So…Will told me you’re spending a lot of time with Nancy and Jonathan now.” 

Steve stumbles over the same ant hill. “What? How does Will know that?”

“Because Jonathan told him.”

Steve blinks. “He did? What’d he say—”

“I don’t know, does it matter? Point is, I just wanna make sure that you…y’know…know what you’re doing. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“Jesus, why does everyone keep saying that?” Steve mutters.

“Erica,” Dustin says once they’ve returned to the car. “Back me up here.” 

“No,” Erica says automatically, taking the popcorn bucket as Steve passes it to her.

“It’s about Steve hanging out with Nancy and Jonathan,” Dustin says, as if this will be enough to convince a ten-year-old to invest in the goings-on of Steve’s tragic social life. 

Steve had forgotten, however, that Erica is nothing if not a gossip, because she looks at Steve over her sunglasses and frowns. “You’re hanging out with them? Aren’t they still dating?”

“Yeah, but—” 

“And didn’t Nancy dump you and stomp all over your heart just last year?”

“Whoa, that is not what happened.” 

Erica turns to Robin, as if seeking confirmation, and Robin says, “Well…”

“Robin!” Steve says, and then to Erica, “How the hell do you know about that, anyway?”

“Word travels fast around here,” Erica says, munching on her popcorn. 

“What I can’t understand,” Dustin starts. “Is why? You don’t even like Jonathan.”

“I like Jonathan just fine!” Steve shouts, loudly enough that the couple in the car next to them shoots them a look that makes the back of Steve’s neck heat. 

At last, Robin takes pity on Steve. “Guys, c’mon, leave him alone.”

“Yeah, guys,” Steve says, for emphasis.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin says to Robin. “You have to admit it’s weird.”

Robin’s mouth twitches, but all she says is, “If Steve says it isn’t weird, then it isn’t weird.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, given this is the exact opposite of the sentiment she expressed the other day, but Robin ignores him. Dustin and Erica still look unconvinced, but because they take Robin’s word as gospel—even if neither of them would admit it—they drop the subject, much to Steve’s relief. But as the movie starts and the four of them finally quiet down, Steve has to admit he’s the slightest bit touched. As annoying as the third degree is, it’s nice to know that Dustin and Erica care, in their own way. 

And maybe it’s that fondness impacting his mood, but as the movie continues, Steve finds that—heat and mosquitoes and absence of a hot date withstanding—he’s having a pretty good time. Maybe, he muses, the drive-in isn’t so bad. Maybe next time—so long as they’re not busy, of course—he could invite Nancy and Jonathan, too. 

It’s probably a stupid idea. If Nancy and Jonathan wanted to go to the drive-in, they’d do it on their own, as a date.

Still. It’s nice to think about.

That Friday night, when Steve drops Dustin off at the Wheelers’, Nancy stops Steve by the door and asks if he wants to watch a movie with her and Jonathan.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, as casually as he can muster, as if this is a totally unexpected proposition. “Sure, sounds good.”

The corner of Nancy’s mouth pulls into an amused smile before she heads toward the living room, and Steve follows her. Jonathan’s already there, crouched in front of the TV, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates on winding the VHS tape up. Steve takes a seat on the couch and reaches for the plate of brownies on the coffee table. 

“Hey, these are good,” he says after he takes a bite. “Where’d you get them?”

“Jonathan made them,” Nancy says.

Steve’s so surprised that a few crumbs fall out of his mouth. “You bake?” He says to Jonathan.

Jonathan’s shoulders hunch. “Only sometimes.” 

“Damn. You’ve been holding out on us, Byers.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, but the back of his neck is turning red. It turns red when Steve reaches for a second brownie, too. 

The movie is surprisingly not bad. Not that the movies Steve watches with Nancy and Jonathan are normally bad, but they’re usually not up his alley. This movie doesn’t seem like it’d be up Jonathan’s alley, either—there’s a lot of action, and it isn’t anything like the artsy films Steve assumes people like Jonathan like. It doesn’t seem Nancy’s taste, either; back when they were dating, she always favored rom-coms that Steve pretended not to get invested in. But Nancy seems interested enough, and Jonathan is practically riveted to the screen, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration again, only looking away from the TV to make idle comments about cinematography, or whatever.  

As weird as it sounds, Steve might actually be more interested in Jonathan’s commentary than the movie itself. It’s rare to see Jonathan talk this much, and it’s even rarer to see him get so excited about something. Though maybe that’s unfair; Nancy certainly doesn’t seem that surprised about Jonathan’s movie commentary. Maybe Jonathan’s like this all the time, just with a select number of people.

But maybe that’s what’s so interesting to Steve. Not Jonathan’s tangents, but the fact that he’s doing them in front of Steve. As though Steve is, suddenly, part of Jonathan’s select number of people. 

And at the moment Steve has this realization, Jonathan turns to Steve, brow furrowed, and says, “What?” Which is when Steve realizes he’s been staring.

Steve quickly looks away. “Nothing, man. I’m just learning a lot.” Jonathan narrows his eyes, like he thinks Steve is making fun of him, and Steve says quickly, “I am! It’s cool you know so much about…I don’t know, camera angles and shit.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, but finally, he turns away. The back of his neck is red again, like maybe Steve’s embarrassed him, and he doesn’t say much for the rest of the movie, which makes Steve feel bad. To try to make up for it, Steve purposefully doesn’t glance in Jonathan’s direction again.

He does, however, catch Nancy glancing at them both out of the corner of her eye. When Steve raises his eyebrows at her, she quickly looks away, and it makes Steve feel strangely caught.

He pushes the feeling aside. 

“You know what?” Steve says when the movie’s credits finally roll an hour later. “I liked it.” 

Jonathan looks wary. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not. I’m surprised you like it.”

“What? Why?”

Steve shrugs. “Just doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you’d like.”

“I like a lot of kinds of things.” 

Steve grins. “Really? News to me.”

Nancy laughs, and Jonathan rolls his eyes, the back of his neck turning red again. “Oh, whatever.” He stands, grabbing the now-empty plate. “I’m gonna clean this off. Do you guys need anything?”

When they say no, Jonathan heads into the kitchen, and after, Steve turns to Nancy. “So…was Family Video out of films made by suicidal French directors, or something?” 

Nancy snorts. “Oh, shut up. We’ve never watched a movie like that with you.”

“But you do watch them.”

Nancy’s mouth twitches as she avoids his gaze, and a triumphant smile spreads across Steve’s face. “Shut up,” Nancy says again, but she’s starting to smile, too.

“I did like the movie, though,” Steve says. “I like when movies have…y’know…action.”

“I know, Steve,” Nancy says, but somehow, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited. 

“Not in a shallow way! But when there’s not a lot going on, it’s hard for me to pay attention.”

Once he’s said it out loud, it sounds very shallow. But Nancy doesn’t look at Steve like that’s what she’s thinking. Instead, in the dim light of the Wheelers’ living room, their legs pressed together on the couch, Nancy’s expression looks almost familiarly fond. 

“Yeah,” she says. “I remember.” 

There’s a swooping feeling in Steve’s stomach, then, so sudden that it takes him by surprise.

It’s not a new feeling, though. It’s the same feeling Steve got every time Nancy passionately recounted the main points of her argumentative essay for English class, every time her brow wrinkled when she talked about her brother’s friends in the weeks after November 1983, every time Steve talked and she trained her attention solely on him, as though she truly cared what he had to say.

The feeling is fondness and admiration, and disbelief that he gets to have someone like this in his life, and it feels more familiar to him than breathing. 

“What?” Nancy says now, frowning as she takes in whatever expression’s on Steve’s face. “What is it?”

I’m screwed, Steve thinks. 

“Nothing,” Steve says instead, then he swallows and looks away from her. 

“We should have a pool party,” Erica announces when the four of them are at Steve’s.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, we?”

Erica sighs. “Fine. You should have a pool party.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Dustin chimes in. “Before the end of summer.”

Steve rolls his head along the couch toward Robin, who takes a sip of the coffee he made her that morning—none for Dustin and Erica, because God knows what they’d be like with caffeine in their system—and says, “Sure, I’m game.” 

“I don’t know,” Steve says. But the more he thinks about it, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. It might be fun, even. He hasn’t had a party at his house since—well, since, but he’s barely gone in the pool this summer, and it’d be nice to see somebody get some use out of it. 

Then Dustin says, “We could invite the Party.” And before Steve can decide whether he likes that idea, Dustin adds, “And Nancy and Jonathan, if you want.”

Shit. 

“Oh,” Steve says. “I don’t know, they might be busy—”

Dustin ignores him. “We could cook hot dogs. Do you have a grill? If not, we can just order pizza—”

“Hey,” Robin says in a low voice, nudging Steve. “Did something happen with Nancy and Jonathan?”

“What? No,” Steve says quickly. Robin raises her eyebrows. So does Erica, who isn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop. Dustin is still rattling off a list of food and drinks, oblivious to the fact that no one’s listening to him. “It’s just that—”

But what can he say? It’s just that I’ve recently realized I’m the worst kind of asshole in the world, who’s still in love with his ex, despite recently becoming friends with her boyfriend, and now I’m doomed to ruin my newfound friendship with both of them, just like I ruin everything else?

But he can’t tell Robin that. Especially not with Erica listening in. So, instead, Steve accepts defeat. “I mean…sure, yeah, I guess I could ask them.” 

Which is how, that Saturday, Steve finds himself opening his front door to half a dozen pre-teens, Nancy, and Jonathan. Jonathan’s wearing swim trunks and a t-shirt, and Nancy’s in a pool wrap, the straps of her swimsuit peeking out, and Steve thinks to himself, Great, just great. This is the last thing he needed while trying to get over Nancy: her, in his pool, wearing less clothes than normal.

In fairness, it isn’t that bad of a party. Sure, the kids go through two boxes of pizza in record time, and Max orchestrates a game of Marco Polo that’s so chaotic Steve worries it’ll result in an injury, but other than that, it’s not so bad. Besides, it’s easier than Steve thought it’d be to keep his distance from Jonathan and Nancy, especially in a group setting. He even loses track of them at one point, only to later look up and find them in a corner by themselves…in the pool.

It shouldn’t surprise him. It is a pool party, and besides, they brought their swimsuits. But in the year they dated—in the year after Barb died—Steve still remembers the haunted look on Nancy’s face every time she gazed into his backyard, and how quickly she hid it away when Steve asked if she was okay. 

She doesn’t have that expression now, though. Right now, as she laughs at whatever Jonathan’s saying, she looks relaxed. She looks…happy. So does Jonathan, actually, and as Steve watches them both, he feels a strange mix of emotions stirring in his chest. Partly, it feels like relief, or pride—that Nancy’s here in his pool, that someone’s made her look that happy, even if that someone isn’t Steve. But there’s another feeling, too—something that sits tight in his throat, not bitterness or even jealousy but something more like…longing. 

When Nancy finally looks away from Jonathan, she glances around as if looking for something before her eyes meet Steve’s across the pool, and Steve looks away from them, swallowing hard.

A little while later, when Steve’s in the kitchen adding more ice to the cooler, he hears a voice say, “Hey,” and looks up to find Jonathan leaning against the doorway.

“Oh.” Steve clears his throat. “Hey.”

“Need help with anything?” 

“Uh—yeah.” He nods his head toward the fridge. “Can you grab some sodas for the cooler?” 

“Sure,” Jonathan says, opening the fridge door. His hair is damp and starting to curl at the ends, and he’s not wearing the shirt he’d been in when he arrived—probably, he took it off while Steve was busy trying not to pay attention to him and Nancy. Steve realizes he’s never seen Jonathan without a shirt on, and that underneath all the layers he normally wears, Jonathan is lean and angular, which Steve probably could’ve guessed. Still, he finds his eyes tracing the shape of Jonathan’s collarbone, how it connects to the sharp, broad line of his shoulder—

“Hey, is everything okay?” Jonathan says suddenly.

Steve tears his gaze away from Jonathan’s shoulders. “Huh?”

Jonathan drops a few cans of Coke into the cooler, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “It just…feels like we haven’t seen you around much lately.”

Steve clears his throat. “No, yeah. Everything’s fine. I’ve just…been busy.” 

Jonathan glances up at him. “Okay.” He adds more Cokes to the cooler, his damp hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his expression. “Well…good.”

Truthfully, Jonathan’s hair has always been a little tragic-looking. The bowl cut might’ve suited him when he was a kid, but a haircut like that really isn’t meant to be worn past the age of twelve. But it occurs to Steve that Jonathan’s hair has actually been looking slightly less tragic, lately. Like he’s trying to grow it out, or make more of an effort, though Steve has no idea who on Earth he’d be making an effort for. Now that Steve thinks about it, Jonathan’s haircut this past year at school—less bowl-y, more parted to the side—hadn’t been that bad. Maybe Steve should suggest to Jonathan, politely and helpfully, that he bring that style back— 

“What?” Jonathan says suddenly, cocking his head.

“Huh?” Steve says again. “Oh, nothing. I was, uh, just thinking about your hair.”

Jonathan’s face flushes slightly. “My…hair?”

“Yeah.” Steve clears his throat again. “It looks decent lately.”

“Decent?”

“Yeah. Did you do something to it?”

“What would I have done to it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “Started using a brush, maybe?”

Steve half-expects Jonathan to shoot back with his own snide remark. To his surprise, Jonathan doesn’t. He doesn’t even roll his eyes. Instead, Jonathan actually snorts, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement as his damp hair falls into his face again, and Steve feels his palms twitch with the absurd desire to reach out and push the strands back, to touch, and—

Oh, Steve thinks distantly. 

Then, Oh, no.

The party wraps up just after the sun has set, not that Steve notices; he spends the end of it in a daze, aimlessly wandering his backyard like a man who’s just had his entire worldview rearranged. He’s lucky that Robin, Dustin, and Erica stay behind to clean up, because honestly, Steve’s not sure he would’ve accomplished anything on his own.

After clean-up, they decide to watch a movie, and though Steve laughs at all the right parts and bickers with Robin like usual, he doesn’t retain a single detail about the film’s plot. By the time the movie’s over, it’s late enough that Dustin, Erica, and Robin decide to stay over, so Robin calls her parents, and Steve manages to call Dustin’s and Erica’s, and they return to the living room with blankets and sleeping bags to put on another movie.

As Steve leans against the bottom of the couch next to Robin, he tries to actually pay attention to the movie this time. But his mind is buzzing and his skin feels too tight and he wants to tell Robin everything, but he also doesn’t, and he also can’t, because Dustin and Erica are right there, and even after they fall asleep halfway through the movie, Steve still doesn’t say anything, because fuck, how would he even start?

His spiraling, jumbled thoughts don’t go quiet until finally, miraculously, Robin breaks the silence in the room and says, “Can I say something cheesy without you making fun of me?” 

Steve looks over at her, then says, “Probably not.” 

Robin rolls her eyes, then, after a pause, “I think…this is one of the best summers I’ve ever had.” 

Whatever Steve had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Really?”

“Really.” 

“You know we got kidnapped by Russians last month.”

Robin huffs. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had…friends. Not like this, at least, so I’m just trying to say that—having people know me and actually care—it’s been nice.”

There’s a warm feeling glowing in Steve’s chest suddenly, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yeah. It is nice.” 

Robin doesn’t correct him—doesn’t bring up Tommy and Carol, who were never really Steve’s friends, not like Robin is. But maybe she doesn’t need to. Maybe she already knows. 

“Okay, but,” Steve says after a beat. “Only one of the best summers you’ve ever had?”

“Well,” Robin says. “There was that summer my parents took me to the beach…”

Steve swats her with a throw pillow, and Robin laughs. “Today was fun, is what I’m trying to say.” Then she adds, “Nancy and Jonathan seem cool.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his pulse pick up. “Oh, yeah. They’re cool.” 

“I can see it, you know. The whole randomly and suddenly friends again thing you guys have going on. Even though I do still think it’s weird.”

He glances away. “Yeah, sure. It’s been nice, I guess.” 

“Kinda feels like you haven’t talked about them that much lately, though.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy,” Steve says defensively. “And it’s not like I ever talked about them a lot to begin with.” Robin lifts her eyebrows. “What?” 

“You know,” Robin says almost gently. “You can talk to me about…things. Anything, really, if you want to. I won’t tell anyone.”

Steve levels Robin with a look. “Not even Dustin and Erica?”

“Are you kidding? They can’t keep a secret to save their lives.”

Steve glances back at the couch. Dustin and Erica are still asleep, and Dustin is snoring loud enough to wake the dead. 

Am I really going to do this? He thinks. But Robin’s looking at him all earnest and trustworthy, and before Steve’s even thought it through, he says, “Okay.” 

Robin’s eyebrows raise again. “Okay?”

Steve swallows. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?” 

“I—” Steve swallows again, then blurts, “I think I like them.”

Robin frowns. “Dustin and Erica?”

“No, you idiot,” he hisses. “Nance and—”

“Oh! Oh my God, I knew it! I—” Then Robin stops. “Wait. And?”

Steve winces.

“Oh.” Robin’s eyes widen. “Oh. You mean…Nancy and—”

“Lower your voice,” Steve grits out.

“Okay, okay, sorry.” They risk a glance at the couch, but Dustin and Erica are still passed out. Robin whispers, “But…you’re serious? Both of them?”

Steve exhales. “Yeah. Both of them.”

“Wow,” Robin says. “Huh.” 

“What?”

“It’s not a bad ‘huh.’ I’m just…processing.” 

Steve groans quietly, burying his face in his hands. “I just—I don’t know what to do. It’s like it hit me out of nowhere. Like, Nancy makes sense, sure, but—” He peeks between his fingers to check that Dustin and Erica are still asleep, then says in a low voice, “I mean, I’ve never even liked a…a guy before.” 

“Maybe you don’t like guys,” Robin offers. “Maybe you just like Jonathan.”

Steve lowers his hands from his face. “What the hell? Don’t say that, that’s even worse.” 

Robin snorts. “So, it just hit you out of nowhere, huh?”

“I guess,” Steve says. But he thinks about 1983, about Jonathan’s sweaty hand in his, pulling him to safety, away from the Byers’ living room. He thinks about the money and time he spent finding the right camera to replace the one he broke, painstakingly wrapping it so there wasn’t even a single crease in the paper, and…

Shit. Maybe it wasn’t out of nowhere. 

Steve thunks his forehead on his knees. “This is the worst.”

“Hey, look,” Robin says, voice softening. “Maybe it’s not, alright? Maybe…they feel the same way.” Steve can’t help it; he snorts. “C’mon, is that really so hard to believe?” 

Steve lifts his head to give her a disbelieving look. “Uh, yeah. It is, actually.”

Robin sighs. “Look, the way I see it, just a few months ago, things between the three of you were…not so great. You kind of did some fucked up shit a few years ago, and then there was the break-up with you and Nancy, and her getting with Jonathan, and things were awkward. But despite all of that, they’re the ones who started asking you to hang out. Which means that—despite everything—they’re over all that stuff. So if they can get over all of that, then hey, anything’s possible, right?” When Steve just continues to stare at Robin dubiously, she lets out a huff. “All I’m saying is…I think you should tell them.”

“Weren’t you telling me just recently that you, and I quote, didn’t want to see me get hurt?”

“Yes, well, that was before I had more information I needed to evaluate.” 

“And this is from the same girl who carried a torch for Tammy Thompson all year and never said anything?”

“That was completely different!”

“How?”

“Because, Steve, you don’t have anything to lose! Jonathan’s moving in a few months, and then—well, it won’t matter anyway, right? C’est la vie, and all that.” 

But that isn’t the case at all, Steve thinks. Jonathan moving, Nancy graduating and leaving Hawkins—it makes it all matter so much more. After two years of painfully dancing around each other, Nancy and Jonathan are finally in Steve’s life, but in a matter of months, they’ll be gone, so how could he say something? How could he possibly bring himself to ruin what they already have—something that’s already so good—when they have such a short time together already? 

“I can’t,” Steve says finally. “It’s a nice idea, sure, but I—it wouldn’t work out like I want it to. I’m not going to fuck up the little time we have left by telling them something they won’t want to hear.”

Because he can picture in vivid clarity how they’d react if he told them. He can see the discomfort and pity on Nancy’s face, the stiffness in Jonathan’s shoulders. How could they react any differently? Why would they want him when they already have each other?”

“I just…” Steve shakes his head. “I just can’t.” 

Robin frowns. For a moment, he thinks she’s going to argue, but in the end, she only sighs. “Okay,” she says quietly. “I get it.”

Neither of them says much of anything after that, and they both fall asleep sometime after the credits of the movie roll. 

The week before Robin, Erica, and Dustin go back to school, Robin decides they should go to the lake. 

“My aunt has a lake house,” she explains. “She barely uses it anymore—she has a bad hip, or whatever—so we could go there for the day. Y’know, before school starts.”

“Beats Steve’s dirty pool,” Erica says under her breath. 

Steve ignores this. “Your aunt won’t mind you using her house?”

Robin shrugs. “I mean, I’d ask first, obviously. But I doubt it.” 

Erica and Dustin turn to Steve. He’d like to think it’s because they’ve elected him as their deciding factor, but he knows it’s really because he’s their only means of transportation.

Steve sighs. “I don’t know, the weather’s been kinda bad lately…”

“What? No, it hasn’t,” Dustin says. 

“Yes, it has! Last week—”

“Oh, who cares,” Erica says. “C’mon, let’s do it. It’ll be fun.” 

Steve wants to argue further, if only for the sake of it. But just like with the pool party, he can already feel himself starting to crack. He thinks about the kids and Robin going back to school next week while he sits alone in his big, empty house; about everybody in his backyard pool, relaxed and having fun and not thinking about interdimensional monsters, all because he’d brought them together; about Robin, sitting on his living room floor, telling him this is one of the best summers she’s ever had.

Then he turns back to Robin and says, “How far away did you say it was again?”

The two-hour-and-fourteen-minute drive to Robin’s aunt’s lake house is spent with Dustin and Erica arguing over the radio station, Robin and Dustin arguing over whether the animals they pass are bulls or cows, and Steve constantly yelling at them to shut the hell up. When they finally pull into the driveway of Robin’s aunt’s lake house, it’s a relief.

That is, until thirty minutes later, when Steve heads back out to get the snacks from his trunk and sees a very familiar car pull in behind them.

At first, he tells himself it’s a coincidence. Surely, surely, some stranger who drives a car that looks exactly like Jonathan Byers’ is pulling into the driveway to reverse and turn around, or something.

But then the car parks, and two familiar mops of brown hair step out, and Steve’s stomach drops. 

“Steve, hey!” Nancy says, waving and smiling at him, of all things. “We didn’t get here too late, did we?”

Steve doesn’t say anything. When he tries to open his mouth, no words come out.

“Hey, Nance!” comes Robin’s voice behind him, and he turns to see her jogging down the driveway, a smile on her face like nothing’s amiss. “You’re here just in time.”

Steve stares at her. But Robin doesn’t look surprised. In fact, she’s grabbing snacks from his trunk without meeting his eye at all.

Finally, the lightbulb goes off.

“You invited them?” He hisses.

Robin shrugs, still not looking at him. “I thought it could be fun.” 

“Robin.” 

Robin finally looks up. “Oh, come on. You’re not actually mad, are you?”

“Of course I’m fucking mad! Why would you invite them without telling me?”

“Because I knew you would’ve tried to talk me out of it!”

“Robin—”

Robin slams the trunk shut. “Steve. I know you’re afraid of telling them…” She glances down the driveway, then lowers her voice. “Well, you know. And, listen, I get it! I’m not even saying you should tell them. But you said it yourself: you only have so much time left before Jonathan fucks off to California, and I can’t stand to watch you spend that time distancing yourself from them when it’s obvious it’s making you miserable.”

“Rob—”

“Steve! C’mon. You care about them, and they care about you, and by the way, in case you forgot, a monster could show up and kill us all at any time, so at least fucking spend time with them while you still can.”

Steve gapes at her. “I—that’s—”  

But Robin’s already turned back to the house, shouting over her shoulder, “You’ll thank me later!” 

It turns out Robin’s aunt’s lake house is more of a cabin, with log walls and a tin roof. It’s small, with a tiny kitchen, two bedrooms, and only one bathroom, but at the top of a hill overlooking the lake, it’s still very picturesque. Erica, who’s already made herself at home by sprawling on the living room couch, is apparently completely unfazed by Nancy and Jonathan’s arrival—Steve can’t tell if it’s because unfazed is her natural state or if Robin let her in on her plan. Dustin’s only comment is, “Geez, Nance, are you planning to stay for the week?”

Nancy adjusts the duffel bag on her shoulder. “I didn’t pack that much. Just swimsuits and pajamas and stuff.” She glances at Steve. “Not that I thought we were spending the night, just because—”

“Because you like to be prepared,” Steve finishes for her. “I know.” 

Nancy’s expression softens, just barely, and Steve has to look away. 

“So…” Erica says. “Can we go to the lake now?” 

They all walk down to the dock in the backyard, where Dustin begins to repeatedly cannonball into the lake as Nancy and Erica score him based on form. Robin, who’s lying on her towel on the dock, rolls her eyes and opens her book, but Jonathan watches the three of them from afar with an amused expression, his eyes crinkled in the corners. When he glances back at Steve—as if he wants to see if Steve’s also watching, as if the two of them are sharing a joke—Steve unconsciously feels himself smile, too. For the first time, he wonders if maybe this won’t be so bad.

The feeling doesn’t last, because no sooner has Steve laid out a towel does he feel a raindrop land squarely on his forehead. 

He looks over at Robin. “Maybe it’s just a drizzle?” She says hopefully.

It is not just a drizzle. In mere minutes, the slightly gray sky darkens with clouds, and the scattered raindrops turn into a downpour, sending all six of them running back into the house, Erica and Dustin shrieking as they lead the charge.

Inside, Steve stands at the window to watch the rain pound onto the dock before he turns to Dustin. “Told you the weather had been bad.”

Dustin glares at him.

With little else to do, they settle down in the living room with Robin’s aunt’s stash of board games. They play five rounds of Uno, three rounds of Clue, and only half a round of Monopoly, interrupted by Jonathan suggesting they make dinner before Dustin and Erica can get into a full-on brawl. Robin helps Jonathan find some boxed mac and cheese in the kitchen, and once it’s finished, the six of them cram around the tiny kitchen table, where Steve somehow ends up between Nancy and Jonathan. Jonathan’s knee presses into Steve’s on-and-off throughout the entire meal, and when Nancy asks Steve to pass the napkins, their fingers brush.

He’s quick to volunteer to wash the dishes when everyone’s finished eating.

As he runs the bowls under the sink, he listens to the distant sound of chatter from the living room and watches the rain through the windows. It shows no signs of letting up; if anything, it’s only gotten worse. Even from inside, he can hear how loudly the wind is whistling through the trees. The sun is already setting; soon, it’ll be dark. He’s not looking forward to the idea of driving Robin and the kids home at night in this weather.

“Hey.”

Steve looks up to find Nancy poking her head in the kitchen, Jonathan right behind her.

“You need any help?” She asks. 

“Oh,” Steve says, surprised. “No, I’ve got it. You guys go sit down.”

“We don’t mind,” Jonathan says, and before Steve can protest, they both join him at the sink. For a while, they work in a silent, peaceful assembly line, Steve washing the dishes, Nancy drying them, and Jonathan putting them away. Just like the dinner table, the kitchen is so small that Steve can’t help but be in Nancy and Jonathan’s personal space—his elbow bumps into Nancy’s as he passes her the dishes, and Jonathan’s hip knocks into his as he maneuvers around the kitchen. Every time they accidentally touch, Steve feels his heart jump in his throat, and he swears it must be audible. He wouldn’t even be surprised if Robin, Dustin, and Erica could hear it from the living room. 

“I hope it’s okay that we showed up,” Nancy says suddenly as she’s taking the last dish from Steve.

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“I hope it’s okay,” Nancy repeats. “That we’re here.”

Steve glances over at Jonathan. Jonathan shrugs, glances away, and says, “Robin invited us, but you seemed like…”

He trails off, and Nancy starts. “It’s just…” She glances away, too, and Steve thinks he’s never heard her sound so uncertain. “I didn’t want—you know, if you didn’t want us to be here…”

“I—” Steve starts, then stops. He thinks about the past month—how, despite the clock ticking down to the Byers’ move-out date, he’d felt so happy and relieved to have Nancy and Jonathan around. How terrified he was when he realized how he felt, because if Nancy and Jonathan knew, it’d ruin the little time they had left. Only now does Steve wonder if he was the one ruining it by keeping his distance, shortening the time on that ticking clock even more…and only making himself miserable because of it.

So Steve says, quietly and too-honest, “Of course I want you here.” 

Nancy looks up at him. The kitchen feels even smaller, suddenly, and when Steve looks at Jonathan, Jonathan looks away, visibly swallowing.

Suddenly, Steve is certain he’s said too much—that this will be what scares them away. But they aren’t leaving. Nancy’s still looking at him, and the back of Jonathan’s neck is flushed, and Steve should say something, anything else, but he doesn’t know what.

He clears his throat. “I—” He starts again.

And then they hear a loud crash from outside.

The three of them run to the living room, where they find Robin, Dustin, and Erica staring out the window, where a giant branch has fallen and landed on the stone bird bath in Robin’s aunt’s backyard, cracking off a corner of it.

“Shit,” Robin mutters. “Barbara’s gonna be pissed.” 

Steve sighs. “I should probably go check on our cars.” 

Jonathan looks sharply at him. “What?” 

“I’m just gonna check, Jonathan.”

“I don’t think you should be going out there right now.”

“I’ll be fine!”

“Steve—”

“Ugh,” Erica interrupts. “Can’t we just call it quits and go home?” 

Robin points out the window. “You want to drive home in that?” 

“It’s just one branch,” Erica says.

“It isn’t even raining that bad,” Dustin adds.

And that’s approximately when the power goes out. 

“Shit,” Steve curses.

There’s a scramble to find flashlights and candles, both of which Robin successfully locates and passes around. When she clicks her flashlight on, it lights up her face in a way that makes her look slightly ghoulish in the dark.

“Okay,” she says. “So…no one panic.”

Steve looks around at everyone’s very neutral faces. “No one’s panicking, Robin.” 

“Right. Well, I wanted to say it, just in case.”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “Look. Obviously, we’re not going anywhere until the storm stops, and that doesn’t look like it’s happening any time soon.” 

“My mom’s gonna be worried,” Jonathan murmurs.

“Yeah, well, I was supposed to sleep over at Heather’s tonight,” Erica says. “She’s going to go ballistic.”

“Alright,” Nancy says tersely, and Erica snaps her mouth shut. “I know it’s not ideal, but we’ll be fine. The weather will clear up by the morning, and then we can call our parents and let them know we’re alright. And in the meantime…we’ll just have to spend the night here.” She shoots a glance at Dustin that looks only slightly smug. “Guess it’s a good thing I brought pajamas, huh?”

“Okay, but where the hell are we going to sleep?” Steve demands, glancing around the tiny cabin. 

“I can take the couch,” Dustin offers. Steve looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing, just, that was a…polite thing to offer.”

“Why do you sound so surprised, Steve?”

“I’m not—”

“I can be polite!”

“Alright, Jesus, sorry,” Steve mutters. “I guess I can take the floor.” 

“Steve,” Nancy says. “You have head trauma.”

“So?” 

Jonathan starts, “I can take the—”

“No, you have a bad back,” Nancy says. 

“Well, I’m not taking the floor,” Dustin says.

Erica raises her eyebrows. “What happened to polite?”

“Alright, look,” Robin interrupts. “There are two beds and a couch, right?”

“Right,” Nancy says slowly.

“So…Dustin can take the couch, Erica and I can take the bed in the guest room, and Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan can have the king-sized bed in the master.”

Steve feels his throat go dry. “Uh—”

“Okay,” Nancy says. “Fine.”

Steve turns to her. “Fine?”

“Yeah.” She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a big bed, so it makes the most sense. And it’s the only option that doesn’t end up with someone on the floor, so…”

Steve blinks, but Nancy meets his gaze measuredly. At last, Steve turns to Jonathan. “Is that fine with you?”

Jonathan scratches the back of his neck, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. “Yeah. Sure. It’s fine.”

Steve wants to push the matter, but, honestly, Nancy’s right. It is, somehow, the least weird option. And if he’s being honest…he really doesn’t want to sleep on the floor. 

“Alright,” Steve makes himself say. “Fine.” 

He tells himself that if they survive this storm, he’s going to murder Robin when they get home.

It turns out that Nancy packed pajamas for herself and Jonathan. Steve, who foolishly assumed this would be a short, relaxing trip to the lake, only brought swim trunks and the clothes he wore in the car, which means he has no choice but to strip down to his boxers and thin undershirt before bed. He ducks into the corner of the master bedroom to change—he has some decency, after all—but as he’s pulling his T-shirt over his head, he meets Jonathan’s eyes across the bedroom, whose face tinges pink as he quickly looks away.

Steve hopes his own face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. 

He, Nancy, and Jonathan take turns in the bathroom to freshen up by the light of the flashlight propped on the counter. Steve’s elbow bumps into Nancy’s while he stands next to her at the mirror, and his hand brushes Jonathan’s as he passes him the towel, and he wonders how the hell they keep ending up in these situations: this close proximity that feels domestic in a way that scares him with how badly he wants something like this, and wants it to be real. 

When they return to the bedroom, there is a brief and awkward discussion on who should take the middle, but in the end, they decide on Jonathan, since Nancy prefers the left side of the bed and Steve prefers the right. Steve can’t decide if it’s better or worse that it’s Jonathan in the middle and not Nancy, but he does know that he’s glad it isn’t him. The idea of Nancy and Jonathan’s bodies pressed into either side of him—that sounds like the worst and best kind of nightmare. 

They climb into bed with relatively little fanfare, and as they all stare up at the ceiling, listening to the rain outside, Jonathan says wryly, “Guess you spoke too soon, huh?”

Steve glances over at him. “What?”

Jonathan glances away. “With—you know. Saying you were glad we were here.”

He knows the joke Jonathan’s trying to make—that Steve being glad they were there was contingent on a simple lake day, not an impromptu overnight stay while sheltering against a storm. There’s even some truth behind it: this bed is big, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was designed for two people, not three. Without power and A/C, Steve can only imagine how sweaty they’ll be in the morning. In fact, only moments ago, he’d been dreading the thought of sharing a bed, certain there was no chance he’d get any sleep.

Now, though, with the solid warmth of Jonathan at his side and the sound of Nancy’s gentle breathing from the opposite end of the bed, he listens to the rain pound against the tin roof overhead and can’t help but think that, from the safety of the bedroom, it doesn’t sound as loud and scary as it did before. If anything, it sounds…peaceful. 

“I don’t know,” Steve mumbles finally, his eyelids growing heavy. “S’not so bad.” 

He falls asleep before Jonathan or Nancy has a chance to respond. 

In the morning, Steve wakes to the warm light of the bedside table lamp and the feeling of sweat sticking to his back.

For a moment, he struggles to remember why he feels so sweaty—and then, when he tries to roll over, he’s stopped by his own arm, flung across Jonathan’s waist, and Jonathan’s face pressed into Steve’s chest. 

The sudden panic is expected. What’s unexpected is how dimmed it feels. Maybe it’s only because the feeling is fogged by Steve still being half-asleep; or, maybe, it’s because it’s outweighed by the fact that, even with the sweat pooling at his back…he feels so damn comfortable.

It would be so tempting, so easy, to close his eyes, tug Jonathan closer, and fall back asleep. He could get away with it if he wanted; if Jonathan woke up, Steve could just feign sleep. But Jonathan wouldn’t want this if he were awake and knew what he was doing, Steve realizes. The only reason Jonathan is this close to Steve at all is probably because he thinks he’s Nancy. 

The thought is sobering enough to wake Steve up fully, and with a small sigh, he props himself up on his elbow and tries to disentangle his other arm from Jonathan, only to be stopped by the sight of Nancy watching Steve from the other end of the bed. 

Steve blinks, startled. Nancy doesn’t. She’s just watching him; both of them. He realizes her arm is around Jonathan, too—it’s pressed right next to Steve’s, any semblance of space they’d tried to maintain before falling asleep clearly forgotten in the night—and she’s looking at him like she’s been watching for a long time, and yet hasn’t done anything to intervene.

Steve, who is a coward, looks away. His eyes land on the lamp on the bedside table, and he realizes for the first time that it’s turned on.

“Oh,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse in a way he isn’t sure can be solely attributed to sleep. “The power’s back.” 

“Hmm,” Nancy says, not looking away from him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Steve looks back at her. He swallows. “Nance—”

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly. She’s looking at him with the same expression that used to terrify him in 1984—like she can see right through him, could crack right down to the core of him without even trying—and as she raises herself off her pillow, her frizzy curls fall into her face, and Steve doesn’t know how he ever convinced himself he stopped loving her. Her gaze flickers down to Jonathan, who’s still lying underneath Steve’s arm, then back up, and she swallows, too. “Just…”  

Steve knows he should be reminding himself of all the things that have kept him up at night for the past month: that in six weeks, Jonathan will be gone, and eventually, Nancy will follow; that Nancy and Jonathan are together in a way that shouldn’t leave space for Steve to fit into; that doing anything to change what they already have will only set himself up for heartbreak. 

But the truth is, all those worries that kept him up feel very far away right now. Right now, all he’s thinking about is the peaceful sound of Jonathan’s breathing, Nancy’s wild curls framing her face, and how a very wise person once told Steve he needed to stop making himself miserable. 

So when Nancy’s eyes dart to Steve’s mouth, it feels easier than anything to lean forward. 

It’s been a long time since Steve has kissed Nancy Wheeler. In his private, most pathetic moments, he’s thought about what it would be like to kiss her again. He never imagined it’d happen while trapped by a storm, with Jonathan Byers in bed between them—but truthfully? He doesn’t think he’d have it any other way.

Besides, even in his most creative moments, he never could’ve imagined how it’d really feel to push Nancy’s bedhead curls behind her ear, to feel her press her palm to his cheek to bring him closer, to hear the small, relieved sigh breathed against his mouth, as if she’d wanted this as badly as he did.

It isn’t until Steve finally pulls back that he remembers Jonathan, only to look down and realize that Jonathan is awake, watching them both. Steve’s first instinct is to apologize—but Jonathan doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t even look surprised. He looks like—

“I…” Steve starts, but before he can figure out how he’s going to finish, Jonathan props himself up on an elbow, a slightly nervous expression on his face, and just as Steve thinks, No, surely not, Jonathan leans forward and kisses him, too. 

Steve has never kissed another guy before. Until recently, he didn’t even realize it was something he wanted to do. He still isn’t sure it’s something he wants to do in a general sense, but as Jonathan moves a tentative hand into Steve’s hair and Steve angles his face to deepen the kiss, Jonathan makes a soft noise against Steve’s mouth and grips his hair tighter, and Steve decides it’s definitely something he’d like to continue doing with Jonathan, specifically.

For seconds or maybe hours, the world narrows to Jonathan’s mouth against his, Nancy still pressed into his side, and his internal monologue, which can only muster up, Oh my God, they want this, too, this is something I get to have— 

And then, like a bucket of ice water has been thrown over his head, Steve remembers, They’re both leaving soon.

Steve pulls away, stammering, “Wait—”

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Jonathan murmurs, and the concern in his tone makes Steve’s heart briefly wobble in his chest. 

“You’re leaving,” Steve says, and the crack in his voice really is probably due to sleep, but it makes Jonathan’s face fall, anyway. Steve clears his throat, hating how vulnerable he sounds. “I—you’re moving in less than two months.”

Nancy bites her lip, reaching for his arm. “Steve—” 

“And you’re already together,” Steve rasps. “I—you’ve been together.”

He’s not sure he even meant to say it. It feels like something he shouldn’t say out loud, like that will only reinforce how true it is and make them change their minds—but he also knows he can’t let this happen without saying it. 

“We know,” Jonathan says quietly. 

“Well, then, how could it work?” Steve demands. “How would we even make that work, with three of us?”

Jonathan glances at Nancy. Nancy clears her throat. “We’d figure it out,” she says. “Like we do with everything else.”

Her voice sounds patient and confident in the way it only sounds when she’s making a plan to take down interdimensional monsters, and for a moment, Steve doesn’t know what to say.

“Steve,” Jonathan says. “We weren’t sure how you felt after—well, after everything. And we didn’t want to say anything and change things, you know, for the worse. But we—” His face flushes slightly. “We—we really like you.”

Steve opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, but all he manages to get out is, “Oh.”

“And I’m not leaving forever,” Jonathan reminds him gently. “I graduate in June. That’s only seven months.”

“Only,” Steve mutters.

Jonathan half-smiles. “I’ll visit. And…you can visit. If you want.” 

If he wants. As if that’s even a question. Steve clears his throat and makes himself say, “Yeah, but what about after? You’ll both go to college, and then you’ll leave again.”

Nancy looks amused. “And what? You’re gonna be stuck here in Hawkins for the rest of your life?”

It takes a moment for Steve to understand what she’s getting at, and when he does, he swallows hard. “You’d…want me to go with you?” 

Nancy glances away. There’s pink dusting across her cheeks, too. “I don’t know. I mean, if things go how I’d like them to, then…yes. Ideally.”

The idea that Nancy has thought about this, that she has an idea of how she wants this to work, with Steve in mind, renders him momentarily speechless.

“We can take things day by day,” Jonathan says. “This isn’t a marriage proposal, you know.”

Steve isn’t sure if it’s how exasperatedly fond Jonathan sounds or if it’s the word marriage that makes Steve’s face flush. “I–I know that.”

Nancy sighs. “I’m not saying I have all the answers—”

“Since when?” Steve interrupts dryly.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “What I’m saying is…I know it won’t be easy. It’ll be really hard, probably, and I wish I could say I knew it would work out regardless…but I don’t. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I—I just don’t. I don’t know if we’ll last until graduation, or college—I don’t even know if we’ll be alive by then, but this is—” She stops and swallows. “I just…I think I…I feel really happy, when it’s the three of us.”

Steve’s heart skips.

“I…” Jonathan starts, then ducks his head. “Well, we both do.” 

“Me, too,” Steve manages finally. “I—of course I do, too.” 

“It feels—” Nancy clears her throat. “The three of us, it feels right in a way it never has before, and—and if we’re doomed to fight monsters and fight for our lives every six months, then…well, isn’t that reason enough to just try?” 

Steve can’t help but think that it’s very typical of Nancy Wheeler to use logic and reason while declaring her feelings, of all things. He wants to argue back with his own reasons—how if the three of them were together and something went wrong, he doesn’t know how he’d ever get over them; how he’d rather have Nancy and Jonathan in his life than not at all, even if that means they only stay friends. 

But what they’re saying is true. Steve does feel happier when it’s the three of them; it feels right. And it’s been hard enough pretending he doesn’t have feelings for them for just a few weeks—he doesn’t know if he could ever go back to acting like just friends.

It’s funny; he told himself the reason he was holding back was that he didn’t want his feelings to change anything and ruin the little time they had left together. It feels both impossible and stupid that Nancy and Jonathan have spent this entire time worried about the same thing. It makes him feel incredibly, incredibly stupid to realize they could’ve had this a lot sooner. That if he’d only said something, it wouldn’t have ruined anything at all. If anything…it probably would’ve made things better.

It’s still terrifying to know that this might not work out—that Jonathan moving and Nancy going to college could make them drift apart. But Nancy’s right: they have no way of knowing that. Steve never could’ve predicted that he’d find out monsters were living beneath his feet, or that he’d become a reluctant babysitter to half a dozen middle schoolers. Hell, he hadn’t even predicted it would storm this weekend. They have no way of knowing what obstacles will be waiting for them in the future, but does that mean they shouldn’t try?

Steve lets himself imagine it: a future where things work out, and the three of them are together. He imagines playing hooky and getting Robin to cover at whatever deadbeat job they end up at next while he sneaks off on dates with Nancy and Jonathan. He imagines long-distance calls with Jonathan in Nancy’s bedroom, hogging the phone long enough that Karen shouts up at them from downstairs to free the line. He imagines road trips with Nancy to California, taking shifts at the wheel, feeling not like a tag-along but a necessary piece, someone to split the driving, lighten the load, and make Nancy laugh and roll her eyes. He imagines Nancy’s color-coded pros and cons college lists as the three of them plan the rest of their futures with each other in mind, and—

Honestly? It doesn’t feel hard to imagine at all.

So Steve does what he should’ve done weeks ago. He takes the leap.

“Okay,” he says. 

Jonathan blinks. “Okay?”

Steve swallows. Then he says, “I want this. More than—well, more than I’ve wanted anything, probably, so yeah. I want to…I want to try.”

Jonathan blinks. Then the corner of his mouth pulls into a smile, one that overtakes his face in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jonathan smile before. 

Nancy reaches forward and takes Steve’s hand, her palm smooth and familiar in his. 

“Okay,” she echoes. She smiles, too. “Good.”

It isn’t until after they’re back under the covers, their legs intertwined beneath the sheets, Nancy’s hand in Steve’s and Steve’s smile pressed into Jonathan’s shoulder, that it occurs to him that Robin is going to be absolutely insufferable when she realizes her plan worked exactly like she thought it would.

But honestly? He can’t find it in himself to mind too much.