Chapter Text
In August of 1986, Nancy shows up at Steve’s front door and tells him she broke up with Jonathan.
Steve’s initial reaction is surprise – because Nancy and Jonathan have been dating for years now, and though Steve knew the whole long-distance thing had caused some problems, he hadn’t known it was that serious. Nancy and Jonathan had just always seemed so… sturdy all these years, as loath as Steve had been to admit it. Like two people who were meant to be together, no matter the circumstance.
That hadn’t stopped Steve from still wanting Nancy, though, and now here she is, standing in Steve’s living room, a hesitant expression on her face, and Steve’s heart starts to pound, because if Nancy is here telling him about the breakup, then maybe…
But then Nancy swallows and says, “I just…I knew I couldn’t go to college while I was still in a relationship.”
Steve hesitates. “With…Jonathan?”
Nancy’s mouth twists and she looks away. “With anyone.”
There’s a long pause, before Steve says, in a low, hollow voice, “Oh.”
Nancy sighs. “Steve…I know we haven’t had a chance to talk about everything you said in the Upside Down yet, but I wanted you to know that…it meant a lot, to hear that you thought about all of those things with me. And to know you felt comfortable enough to tell me. I’m not just saying that, Steve, I really mean it. And…I’m not saying that isn’t something I would’ve wanted at some point. I’m not even saying it isn’t something I could still want, even now. But…it feels like I’ve spent the past four years jumping from one relationship to another, and now that I’m going away, I can finally…I don’t know. Figure things out, I guess. And I can’t do that, not fully, if I still feel tied to someone else, and I can’t stay in a relationship and feel rooted to Hawkins when I’m scared I’d only resent the person for that feeling later on. I just…I can’t do that to you. Not to either of you.”
“So…does that mean…” Steve stops, hesitant. “I mean, are you and Jonathan done for good?”
“I still love him,” Nancy admits quietly. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
It was, but it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it out loud.
“But, I…” Nancy bites her bottom lip and looks away. “I think…I think I still have feelings for you, too.”
Steve’s heart lodges itself in his throat. “You…?” He starts wonderingly, almost awe-struck.
Nancy fidgets, not quite looking at him. “You weren’t…off-base, you know? When you said the timing was never right for us. But we’ve changed since then, both of us; the people we are now aren’t the people we were back then, and I think if we did give it another shot, we could finally be right for each other. And maybe, if I were going to school somewhere closer, or if everything had happened differently, or a little earlier…then maybe we could take that shot.”
Nancy sighs, finally meeting his eyes. “But it didn’t,” she says. “And I’m sorry about that. But – I need to figure myself out before I can figure out anything else, and I need to do it on my own. Not with you, and not with Jonathan. Just me.”
It’s both everything Steve’s ever wanted to hear and the exact opposite, all at the same time, and of course, only Nancy Wheeler could be capable of creating this kind of impossible paradox with Steve’s heart.
“So…” Steve says after a long moment, a little wryly. “Is this you pulling the it’s not you, it’s me card?”
Nancy blinks, then lets out a surprised laugh. “Yeah. When you put it that way…yeah, I guess it is.”
“How’d Byers take the news?”
Nancy glances away. “He was upset,” she says carefully. “But…he understood. He just wants me to be happy.”
And fuck, of course he does. Figures Jonathan had to go and be a good guy and give Steve an impossible standard to live up to.
Again.
Steve sighs. “Nance…I…”
But really, what can he say? It’s almost ironic, that after everything, this is how it happens; that after everything, Nancy isn’t going to choose either of them, but Nancy is her own person. She has no obligation to Jonathan, and certainly not to Steve, who hasn’t been her boyfriend for two years now. Nancy doesn’t owe Steve a choice in the first place. Really, she doesn’t owe Steve anything.
He just wants me to be happy, Nancy said about Jonathan, and isn’t that what Steve has wanted all along? Hasn’t he resigned himself to watching Nancy with Jonathan, watching Nancy live her life without him, and thought to himself, as long as she’s happy ?
It hurts, yeah. Especially because even though he knew Nancy was still with Jonathan, there was a small, maybe foolish part of Steve that thought he still might have a chance. And maybe Nancy’s right – maybe he would have, if circumstances were different. But they aren’t. Maybe this is Steve’s lease on life: losing Nancy over and over again, just as he was starting to think he’d finally had her.
Maybe it’s better to keep losing Nancy than not have her in his life at all.
So at least, Steve sighs and nods. “Okay.”
Nancy blinks. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay,” Steve repeats. Nancy blinks again. “Look, I – I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I get it, Nance. You have to do what’s best for you. I just hope that…well, I hope we can at least still be friends.”
“Steve…” Nancy says. “Of course we’ll always be friends. I – you’re always going to be important to me. That’s never going to change.”
Steve manages a smile. “Yeah? Even after you graduate and become some big shot reporter and leave little old Hawkins behind?”
A small, teasing smile pulls at the corner of Nancy’s mouth. “Well, maybe not then , but – ”
Steve scoffs, and Nancy laughs quietly, and then he’s pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist as her hands settle against his back and her face buries into his shoulder.
“I’ll miss you,” he admits quietly, because it feels a little easier to say it when he knows she can’t see the truth of it on his face.
“Yeah,” Nancy says, her voice muffled into Steve’s shirt. “Me, too.”
When Steve finally pulls back, he pretends not to notice that Nancy looks a little misty-eyed. “So…you leave next week, huh? All packed and everything?”
“Just about.”
Steve tries to smile. “Of course you are. You’ve probably been packed since graduation. You don’t ever leave anything until the last minute.”
“Well,” Nancy says, a little meaningfully. “Almost never.”
Steve swallows, glancing away. “Yeah. Almost.”
“It’s not goodbye,” Nancy insists. “I’ll visit. And Christmas really isn’t all that far away, when you think about it.”
“Sure,” Steve says, even as he’s already trying to mentally calculate all the days that exist between August and December.
“And I’ll call. And write. You might even get sick of hearing from me, eventually.”
Steve shakes his head. “Yeah. Like that would ever happen.”
Nancy’s face softens, and then she steps forward, presses a kiss against his jaw, and then steps back, so quick Steve would almost think he’d imagined it if not for the lingering feeling of Nancy’s lips against his skin that Steve will brush his hand against for days afterward, as if he can still feel the spot Nancy touched.
“I’ll see you around,” Nancy says, and it’s too firm to sound like a suggestion.
Steve lets himself smile. “Oh, you better,” he says, and Nancy smiles back.
“Jesus, Steve,” Robin says the second she enters the doorway of Steve’s bedroom. “When was the last time you did laundry?”
Steve, buried under a pile of blankets, lifts his head from his pillow. “It’s not that bad,” he says automatically, even as he gazes around his room and begins to realize what Robin is talking about. The clothes in his hamper are overflowing, with shirts and jeans and underwear littered across his bedroom floor, not to mention the precarious stack of clean clothes sitting on the desk chair of his room.
Okay, so maybe it’s been a while since he’s done his laundry. So what? It didn’t feel that important.
“Steve,” Robin says, shaking her head.
“What?”
“You can’t keep living like this.”
Steve groans, burying his head back under the blankets. “I’m fine, Robin.”
And he is, really. Yes, it’s been two weeks since Nancy went away to college. Yes, he evidently hasn’t done his laundry since then, and it’s entirely possible that the dishes haven’t been washed and the trash hasn’t been taken out since then, either. Yes, Steve has spent the majority of the past two weeks either at work or buried under the pile of blankets he’s lying beneath currently.
But Steve is fine. Honest.
Robin purses her lips. “What if we went out for a bit, just the two of us? We could go get waffles.”
“Don’t wanna,” Steve mutters.
“You always want waffles.”
“Not always. ”
“99% of the time, then,” Robin says, and when Steve just grunts noncommittally, Robin sighs. “Come on, when was the last time you even made a meal for yourself?”
Steve pauses, tilting his head as he considers the answer.
“Oh my God ,” Robin says.
Steve groans, dragging himself out from under the blankets to sit up straight. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m a pathetic mess, and – ”
“Hey,” Robin interrupts gently. “You’re not pathetic, alright? You’re just…someone who’s been…y’know. Dumped.”
“I’m not even that,” Steve sighs. “We weren’t even dating. Can’t break up with someone if you weren’t together.”
“Whatever,” Robin says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s still some kind of heartbreak, right?”
Steve shrugs one shoulder.
“Well, heartbreak calls for waffles,” Robin says decisively, and Steve lifts one unimpressed eyebrow at her. “Come on. I’ll buy.”
Steve lifts his eyebrows, and Robin lifts her eyebrows right back, and, well. It’s not like Steve can turn down free waffles.
The Diner on Main is Steve and Robin’s typical hangout – outside of Family Video and their own houses, obviously. This is partly because they’re both obsessed with the Diner’s waffles, but it’s also partly because Hawkins doesn’t exactly have much else in the way of hangouts. Besides, it’s not a bad place. It’s open all hours, the coffee’s strong, and the food is great, especially if you’re hungover or high or exhausted or really anything else.
But mostly, what Steve likes about the Diner on Main is that it’s reliable. There’s always some old guy sitting at the bar and sipping out of a flask when the waitstaff is pretending not to look, a booth with a suspicious, sticky residue that never goes away no matter how many times the table is wiped down, and some kid with a neglecting parent, content to sip their coffee and give their kid as many quarters as they ask for so they can play the same song on the jukebox over and over again.
The Diner is consistent, is the thing, and Steve likes that about it. Because in a town where the ground can split open or you can get possessed or interdimensional monsters can kill you at any minute, it’s nice to have something to count on, even if that something is a 24/7 Diner with sticky floors and fluorescent lighting.
But then Steve and Robin take their usual booth at the back and suddenly Jonathan Byers is standing in front of them wearing an apron, and Steve’s illusion of consistency is quickly shattered.
Jonathan uncaps his pen and flips open his notebook, presumably to take their order, only the second he opens his mouth his eyes meet Steve’s, and then he utters out a surprised, “...Steve?”
“Um,” Steve says awkwardly. “Hey, man.”
Robin looks between the two of them with wide eyes, probably, if Steve had to guess, beginning to regret dragging him out of the house.
Steve clears his throat and avoids her gaze. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Uh, yeah,” Jonathan says, glancing between him and Robin. “I started last week.”
“Cool. That’s…yeah, cool,” Steve says, and when an awkward silence falls over all three of them, he adds, “So, um, how have you been? Since, uh…things?”
Jonathan blinks. “Since Nancy dumped me, you mean?” He asks flatly.
Robin lays her hands on the table and abruptly stands up. “You know what? I just remembered I have to go to the bathroom.”
“ Robin, ” Steve hisses.
But Robin is already climbing out of her booth and quickly walking towards the bathroom, only stopping to look back over her shoulder and mouth out, Sorry.
Steve is going to kill her.
“Sorry,” Steve manages, turning back to Jonathan with a weak smile. “She has, uh…bladder control issues.”
Jonathan raises his eyebrows.
“Anyway,” Steve says, clearing his throat again. “So. Aside from the obvious. You’ve been good?”
Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Steve. I’ve been good.”
Steve gives Jonathan a once-over as subtly as he can, as if doing so will help him determine if Jonathan is telling the truth or not. He hasn’t seen Jonathan since the beginning of summer, but it occurs to him that Jonathan does actually look good. The white shirt he’s wearing beneath his apron is thin, spreading across his broad shoulders, and he looks less pale than normal, like all that time in California did him some good. Even Jonathan’s hair looks better, the rat’s nest he’d been sporting when he got back from California now cut in a style that isn’t all that different from the way he’d worn it back when Jonathan and Nancy had been juniors in high school.
Steve wants to ask if the haircut was a post-breakup identity crisis decision, but he decides against it.
“How about you?” Jonathan asks, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “You doing okay?”
“I’ve been good,” Steve says, because it’s easier than saying I’ve been spending the last two weeks avoiding my laundry and hiding under a mountain of blankets in my bedroom.
Jonathan nods, and an awkward silence lapses between the two of them again.
“So,” Jonathan says, finally looking back to his notepad. “What can I get for you?”
“I ordered you chocolate chip waffles,” Steve tells Robin when she slides back into her seat across from Steve. “Not that you deserve them, but – ”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Robin mutters. “It was just really awkward, so I panicked and ran.”
“Yeah, I was there for that, thanks,” Steve says drily.
Robin rolls her eyes. “So. How is he?”
“Good, apparently.”
“Did you ask if the haircut was a post-breakup crisis?”
“ No, Robin.”
“Okay, but you definitely wanted to, right?” Robin says, and Steve kicks her beneath the table, and she mutters, “Ow,” even though he didn’t even kick her that hard.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Steve admits, finally. “I asked if he was doing good, he lied and said sure, and then he asked me the same thing, so I lied and said sure, too. You know. Typical bro talk.”
Robin nods, as if assessing this, then pauses before she says, “Can I ask something?”
Steve raises his eyebrows at her.
“Do you think it’s weird that you two never, like…I don’t know. Became friends?”
Steve blinks. “Me and Jonathan? ”
“I mean, yeah, I know there was the Nancy Wheeler of it all, but didn’t you guys beat up a Demogorgon with Nance that one time? It feels like that kind of experience would forge a bond, you know? Like, it would transcend all the love triangle drama, or something.”
The truth is, Steve has sometimes asked himself the same question. At the time, it had felt like that night in the Byers’ living room would unify the three of them in a way that would make the alleyway fights and miscommunication and everything else that happened in the weeks prior just feel like…bullshit. And in a way, it had; all of Steve’s hostility towards Jonathan had faded away after that night, if not even earlier, and he and Jonathan have been on much better terms ever since. But the truth is that the two of them have never been close, and it’s always been because of Nancy. He doesn’t wish any ill will towards the guy, obviously, and has always begrudgingly respected Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship simply because he knew Jonathan made Nancy happy. But the two of them have never been friends, not because Steve didn’t want them to be, but because the truth is that it’s a little impossible to be buddy-buddy with someone that’s dating the girl you’re in love with.
So at last, Steve shrugs and says, “That was a long time ago.”
Robin hums, her expression unreadable, but before she says anything, Jonathan arrives with their food, and the matter is quickly dropped.
The rest of their meal at the Diner proceeds like any other: the waffles are amazing, the coffee is strong, and a kid only repeats the same song on the jukebox once. The only major difference is that when Jonathan brings them their checks as they’re about to head out, he hesitates for a moment before he offers, “It was good seeing you guys.”
Steve blinks, a little startled. “Uh, yeah. You too.”
“Thanks, Jonathan,” Robin adds.
Jonathan rocks back on his heels, a little awkward. “Sure.”
Steve clears his throat. “Well, uh – guess we’ll see you around?”
Jonathan blinks, as if he’s surprised by the gesture, but then he shrugs. “Yeah, sure. You know where to find me.”
When Jonathan walks away, Steve adds a 20% tip to his bill, and leaves an extra five on the table for good measure.
Nance,
This is the first time I’ve written a letter in – actually, it might be the first time I’ve written a letter, period.
No, that’s not true. In first grade, Mrs. Hart made the whole class sign up for a pen pal. My pen pal was named Theo. He lived in Belgium, I think. Or maybe France. I don’t remember, which is probably because after I wrote him a letter, he never wrote one back, and then Mrs. Hart got mad, like that was somehow my fault, and yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s the last time I ever wrote a letter, so honestly, you should feel pretty honored right now.
Anyway, I hope college is going well. If I didn’t think it’d sound lame, I’d tell you I miss you like crazy. I’d also tell you I hope you’re killing it in English Lit 101 or whatever classes it is you’re taking right now, but I already know you are, so there’s really no point.
Before you ask, you haven’t missed much here. Now that the whole Upside Down shit is over, it’s like Hawkins is finally the town where nothing ever happens like everybody always assumed it was. It might be boring if it wasn’t a relief, honestly.
Actually, the only interesting thing that’s happened lately is I ran into Jonathan recently. He works at the Diner on Main now, apparently – he was me and Robin’s server when we went for breakfast the other day. He looked He seemed like he was doing good. Maybe I can con him into getting me and Robin free waffles?
Speaking of – Robin told me to tell you that if you don’t call her back soon, you’re dead to her. I’m only 80% sure she was joking.
Steve
Steve,
Believe it or not, English Lit 101 is actually one of the classes on my schedule for this semester. I don’t know if I’d say I’m killing it, but I’m doing okay. To be honest, college is kicking my ass a little. I have to work twice as hard as I did in high school, and it’s weird being away from everyone I know. I think I’d probably go completely insane if I didn’t have a roommate. Her name is Jessica, but she goes by Jess, and she’s an art student. She’s kind of mean, and she sleeps all day and stays up all night painting or drawing or whatever, but she spit in a guy’s face at a party last weekend, and she buys us vodka with her fake ID on the weekends, so I’m kind of obsessed with her.
Jonathan told me about the diner. He says the pay is shit, and the customers are awful, but I think he likes it there okay. He says it’ll build character, not that he needs it which wouldn’t exactly be at the top of my list when it comes to job benefits, but to each their own. I’ll ask him about the free waffles, but no promises.
Also, don’t worry – I called Robin back a few days ago. By the way, she told me you didn’t do your laundry for like two weeks? Do I need to come back down to Hawkins and help her stage an intervention?
Nancy
P.S. I miss you like crazy, too.
One of the most consistent aspects of Steve’s life is being Dustin Henderson’s personal chauffeur.
There was a time in Steve’s life when he might have thought that driving a high school freshman around Hawkins was cramping his style. But whatever style Steve might have had to begin with is long gone, so he doesn’t really mind it. Dustin only has his mom at home, and since she works a lot and isn’t always available to drive Dustin to school or Lucas’ basketball games or the arcade, Steve is okay with stepping up and helping out. Sure, he might have some more friends his own age if he wasn’t always hanging out with Dustin, but he genuinely enjoys hanging out with the kid, most times.
Other times…
“Absolutely not,” Steve says.
“ Steve, ” Dustin whines, like he’s still in middle school and not fifteen whole years old. “C’mon, please? You’ve done it before.”
“Yeah, only because it was an emergency ,” Steve says, putting air quotes around the phrase. “You’re not fooling me twice, Henderson.”
“This is an emergency,” Dustin insists, and Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m serious! Mike’s been out sick all week, and we’re this close to finishing the campaign. We can’t do it without a DM.”
“Yeah, well, tough. I’m not doing it.”
“What the hell, why not?”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I have more interesting plans for my Friday night that doesn’t involve playing pretend with a bunch of high school freshmen?”
Dustin raises an eyebrow. “ Do you?”
And the truth is, he doesn’t, but it’s not like Dustin needs to know that.
“Why can’t you get someone else to do it? Like – ” Steve cuts himself off, because for a second he was going to say Nancy, and then he suddenly remembers.
It’s a shame. He knows for a fact Nancy has DM’ed for them several times. She’s good at it, too – she always gets the voices just right. One time she even dressed up as an elf, Steve is pretty sure.
That was a long time ago, though.
“What about Jonathan?” Steve says instead.
“He has to work.”
“Robin?”
“Also work,” Dustin says. “C’mon, she’s your coworker, shouldn’t you know this? Besides, the last time she tried to DM, it was a disaster. She kept getting too distracted coming up with backstories and stuff.”
Steve sighs. “Yeah, that sounds like Robin.”
“See? You’re our only option.”
Steve groans. “Dustin — ”
“Please, Steve?” Dustin begs. “I promise I’ll never ask you again.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Steve says with an eye-roll, but Dustin just blinks up at him imploringly, and at last Steve sighs. “Alright, alright, fine, I’ll be your DM.”
“Yes!” Dustin cheers, pumping his fist. “You’re the best, Steve, seriously.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just remember you owe me for this,” Steve says drily, but there’s no real heat behind his words, so Dustin just beams at him.
Since Mike is sick, the Wheelers’ basement is out, so the kids pick the Hopper-Byers cabin as their spot to hold their DND meeting. Steve and Dustin are the last to arrive, finding Will, El, Max, Lucas, and Erica all sitting around the coffee table in the center of the room, a to-go box of pizza sitting off to the side.
“Took you long enough,” Erica says as Steve closes the front door behind him.
“Hey, you’re lucky I showed up at all, Sinclair,” Steve accuses as he settles in at the head of the table. “Someone pass me the pizza, I’m starving.”
“It’s pineapple,” Max warns.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
The DND campaign actually goes pretty okay, at least in Steve’s opinion. The last time Steve DM’ed for them, Mike was there, and he glared at Steve the entire time and criticized every story point, even though Steve was just reading them off from the instructions in front of him. Without Mike, the DND group is a lot less critical. Or some of them are, at least; neither Erica nor Max seem to have an uncritical bone in their bodies, and having to deal with the two of them together is like a match made in hell. But El, who is evidently new to the game, hangs onto Steve’s every word, and Lucas snickers whenever Steve sneaks a joke into the story, and Dustin lifts his eyebrows every time Steve tries out a new voice for a different character, like he’s almost impressed, and it’s nice.
It isn’t until they’re reaching the end of their storyline that the front door to the house opens.
“Hey, who’s car is in the drive—” Jonathan starts, but he stops when he sees the kids and Steve sitting in the middle of his living room. “Oh. Hey, guys.”
Steve lifts his hand in an awkward wave.
“I told you we were doing DND here tonight, remember?” Will says.
“Yeah, sorry, I forgot,” Jonathan says, his eyes drifting to the to-go box sitting on the floor. “Is there still pizza?”
Will picks up the box, holding it out to him.
“Is it pineapple?” Jonathan asks.
“Obviously,” El says matter-of-factly, and Jonathan grins and reaches for a slice.
“Wait, you’re a pineapple guy?” Steve asks.
Jonathan freezes with the slice halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, so?” He says, almost defensively.
“Nothing, man,” Steve says. “I just figured someone like Jonathan Byers would be too pretentious to let a fruit touch his precious pizza.”
It’s a joke, but it’s a stupid one; he and Jonathan aren’t like that, and given all their prior history, they’re definitely not at a place where Steve can tease Jonathan without striking a nerve, and the second the words have left Steve’s mouth, he freezes.
But Jonathan doesn’t look offended. Instead, he actually laughs, almost in surprise. “Hey,” he insists. “I can have layers.”
Steve lifts an eyebrow. “Can you, though?”
Jonathan rolls his eyes, but there are the beginnings of a grin on his face. “Whatever, man. You probably – ”
“ Jonathan, ” Will says.
Jonathan blinks and looks over at Will, like he’d forgotten anyone else was there. “What?”
“Uh, we’re in the middle of a campaign? ” Dustin says. “You guys can do a deep dive into pizza toppings later.”
Steve rolls his eyes and swats Dustin on the arm, but Jonathan just raises his hands in defense and mouths Sorry as he backs away from them.
Steve picks up where he left off. The party has just snuck into a sewer so they can infiltrate the headquarters of some gang through a secret passageway. In Steve’s opinion, it’s taking a lot longer than it should, because Max keeps trying to fight every character they meet, and Lucas keeps trying to tell her they don’t have to fight everyone, but El keeps encouraging her, so it takes a long time to get to where they’re supposed to be going. Still, Steve powers through while Jonathan stays out of their hair, migrating to the kitchen to eat his pizza in peace. Every now and then, Steve glances over at him, and every time he does, Jonathan’s watching the group with a small, amused sort of smile on his face, and Steve has to quickly look away before Jonathan notices.
It’s a quarter to ten when Steve finally calls it quits.
Dustin groans. “But we’re so close to the end!”
“Firstly, no we aren’t,” Steve says. “There’s like, at least three hours left in this campaign, especially at the rate you guys are going. And secondly, it’s way past you kids’ bedtime already, and I don’t want your parents to skin me alive.”
“But — ” Max starts.
“No buts,” Steve cuts in. “Besides, don’t you want to wait until Mike isn’t sick so you can finish the campaign with him?”
Dustin sighs. “Alright, fair enough.”
“It was a good run, though,” Lucas offers.
“Yeah. Thanks, Steve,” El pipes up.
Steve, feeling far more pleased than anyone who’s just been complimented by fifteen-year-olds has any right to be, leans over to ruffle El’s hair, which is still just growing in. “No problem, kid.”
“If you want, I can walk you guys out,” Jonathan says when Steve grabs his keys from the kitchen table. He’s sitting at the other end of the table, still eating his slice of pizza.
“Oh,” Steve says. “That’s okay, man. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t mind,” Jonathan says, and before Steve can protest any further, he stands up and moves towards the door.
Steve glances over at Dustin, but Dustin just shrugs and follows after him.
“So,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands in his pockets as the three of them make their way to Steve’s car. “How’d it go?”
“It was alright,” Dustin says.
“ Alright? ” Steve repeats, offended.
Dustin ignores him and continues, “Max gets a little too into the whole fighting aspect and nearly derails the entire campaign, though.”
“ A little is putting it mildly,” Steve mutters.
“That sounds like Max,” Jonathan says, sounding amused. Then they reach Steve’s car, and before he can pull the door open, Jonathan’s gaze slides to Steve, and he says, “It’s cool you agreed to help them out, though.”
Steve blinks, but before he can answer, Dustin says, “Well, don’t give him too much credit. It was like pulling teeth to get him to agree to join us.”
“Yeah?”
Dustin lowers his voice, conspiratorial. “He tried to pretend like he had plans on a Friday night . ”
Jonathan grins.
“ Dude ,” Steve says, shoving Dustin.
Dustin blinks at Steve innocently. “What?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Just – quit ganging up on your free ride and get in the car.”
Dustin rolls his eyes, but he heads to the passenger side of the car anyway, leaving Steve with Jonathan, who hovers next to the hood of Steve’s car.
“Anyway,” Jonathan says, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I just wanted to say thanks for putting up with them for the night. They asked me, but I had work, so…you know. Thanks for sacrificing your big, Friday night plans, or whatever.”
Steve rolls his eyes, and Jonathan smirks.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Steve admits at last. “And anyway, they’re good kids.”
“For what it’s worth…you’re actually pretty good at that,” Jonathan says. “You know. The whole DM thing.”
Steve lifts his eyebrows. “You think so?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan says, shrugging one shoulder, glancing away from him. “With the voices, and everything…you know. It was good.”
Steve feels both surprised and oddly pleased by the compliment, and quickly swallows the feeling down. “Yeah, well. Between the two of us, I kinda practiced the voices beforehand.”
Jonathan lets out a surprised laugh, and Steve feels himself grin.
“You know,” Jonathan says after a moment. “Nancy used to DM for them, too, sometimes.”
Steve tries to withhold his surprise; not just at Nancy being brought up, but at the fact that Jonathan was the one to do it. The two of them have never talked about Nancy before; hell, they’ve barely ever talked to each other at all. It almost feels taboo, bringing her up now, like it’s nothing, like it’s normal.
Maybe for Jonathan, it is.
“I know,” Steve says finally. “She dressed up as an elf one time.”
Jonathan cracks a smile. “Yeah. The kids loved her for that.”
Steve clears his throat. “Do you guys, uh…keep in touch?”
“She calls about once a week,” Jonathan admits. “Sometimes more, sometimes less. We talk about Mike and Will, the diner, her classes, you know. Just…catch up.”
“Oh.”
Jonathan isn’t looking at Steve when he asks, “Do you keep in touch with her, too?”
“Yeah. We write letters, sometimes.”
“That sounds nice,” Jonathan says, and to Steve’s surprise, he sounds genuine. He waits for a beat before he asks, tentatively, “Do you miss her?”
Steve swallows. “All the fucking time.”
Jonathan laughs, a little self-deprecating. “Yeah. Me too.” A brief, awkward silence lapses between them before Jonathan clears his throat. “But, hey, speaking of Nancy…she mentioned something about you and Robin wanting free waffles?”
“Oh,” Steve says, startled. “Right, that was – I was just joking. I don’t actually need free waffles.”
Jonathan shrugs. “Well, if you ever do…you know where to get them.”
And weirdly, Jonathan looks like he actually means it.
Steve opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then there’s a loud honk, and when Steve turns to his car, he finds Dustin leaning across the driver’s seat and laying on the horn.
“What happened to getting me home early so that my mom doesn’t skin me alive?” Dustin demands with an unimpressed expression.
“Right,” Steve says, taking a quick step back from Jonathan. “Uh, I should probably – ”
“Sure,” Jonathan says, nodding as he takes a step back, too. “I’ll see you around.”
“See you around,” Steve says, and Jonathan gives him a small wave as he goes.
Steve is pulling his car onto the road when Dustin comments idly, “You know, Jonathan isn’t so bad.”
He glances over at Dustin, raising his eyebrows. “Really? I thought you weren’t his biggest fan.”
“Yeah, but that was when I was Team Steve,” Dustin explains.
“ Team Steve ?” He repeats incredulously.
“Yeah. You know, I was on your side, during the whole … you vs. Jonathan love triangle with Nancy.”
Steve splutters for a moment before he demands, “And what, now you’re not Team Steve anymore?”
“No, but now that Nancy’s dumped both of you – ”
“For the last time, I was not dumped – ”
“Moved a thousand miles away from you, then,” Dustin amends, like that’s any better, “Anyway, now there doesn’t need to be any teams, you know?”
“There never were any teams,” Steve tells him.
But the thing is, in a weird way, what Dustin’s saying makes sense. There hasn’t been any animosity between him and Jonathan in a long time, but there’s always been a sense of uneasiness. An unbalance of sorts, stemmed from the unspoken knowledge that Steve had Nancy when Jonathan wanted her, and continuing on even when their roles were reversed.
Except now, neither of them has Nancy. Now, for the first time, they’re both on even ground.
The idea of that doesn’t sting as much as he thought it might.
Finally, Steve looks over at Dustin again, raising an eyebrow. “You were really on Team Steve?”
Dustin grins. “Always will be, buddy,” he says sagely.
Steve,
I can’t believe you sent me an honest to God care package, but also I can, because of course you did.
Seriously, though, thank you. That was very sweet, and to be honest, I kind of needed it; this week has been hell. I failed an exam Monday, I have an essay due Tuesday that I’ve barely started, and I miss I think the homesickness is finally starting to kick in.
It’s not that I don’t love it here. I do. The campus is amazing, I’m making really good friends, and my classes are really interesting. In a lot of ways I’m so glad I left Hawkins, but in other ways…there’s a lot to miss at home, too, I guess, and it’s starting to catch up with me.
Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate the care package. I especially appreciate that you included Twizzlers, because I know you have some weird, misguided hatred for them. Your sacrifice has not gone unnoticed.
My roommate loves them too, by the way. Guess you’re the only one who has terrible taste.
Thanks again,
Nancy
Nance,
I’m glad you’re enjoying college, but I’m sorry you’re homesick. If it makes you feel better, everyone back here misses you a lot, too. Mike pretends not to, but you know how he is. Gotta preserve his cool, uncaring, fifteen-year-old boy reputation, and all that.
You’re welcome for the care package. Robin helped me with it, but I was the one who bought most of the stuff, so thank you for acknowledging my sacrifice with the Twizzlers. It was a real moral dilemma, so you’re lucky I but I persevered.
Steve
P.S. Tell your roommate she has horrible taste.