Archive of Our Own ^beta

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A violent gasp wrenched Steve from unconsciousness. Instinctively, he curled in on himself in an effort to soothe his aching ribs, but it only served to aggravate them with his sudden movement. His whole body protested, muscles burning as they would after a particularly deep post-practice nap. It struck him that he must have been asleep for a long while.

Steve’s head pounded; he braced himself to open his eyes, expecting the familiar stabbing pain that light always brought after his all-too-common head injuries. He sighed inwardly, Billy really must have done a number on him. Steve opened his eyes.

Shit.

Wherever I am, its pitch black—

…Fuck.

The tunnels.

Memories came flooding back. The vague feeling of being in a car going way too fast, screaming at the random red-headed girl far too Dustin-sized to be of driving age, arguing, getting in the tunnels, arguing again, lighting said tunnels on fire, more arguing, running-screaming-running, and sleeping (apparently). And now, lying on his ass in a puddle of goo.

He cringed at the feeling of cold slime seeping into his clothes as they peeled away from the sticky vines that covered the tunnel floor. He scrambled blindly and felt for his backpack, ripping it open in an unfettered panic. Feeling the shape of a flashlight, he fumbled to turn it on, praying it still had battery.

“Come on, come on—”

Light.

Bless Dustin and his weird obsession with fully charged electronics.

But his stomach sank as he shone the flashlight, illuminating a small section of the tunnel, collapsed vines and debris on either side. A flare of pain shot through his head as he remembered: Helping the kids up the rope, shoving Dustin through the exit just as Steve himself was swallowed up by a stampede of charging demodogs.

He allowed himself a moment of relief that he was miraculously still alive.

His joy was short-lived, as the beam lit up the form of a demodog not five feet away from him, mouth agape and snapping. Steve let out a yelp just as the monster gave a shrill hiss.

Nope. Nevermind, curse Dustin and that stupid shit about "providing assistance’.

I’m gonna die in a freaky interdimensional goo tunnel, and it's all his fault.

That’s it.

I’m haunting the hell outta him. Full Poltergeist on his ass.

Steve braced himself for the pain and closed his eyes.

Surprisingly, Steve was not immediately torn to shreds, as he was picturing ghost-Steve to be while he floated and wailed in the Henderson home.

Huh.

He hesitantly opened one eye, then two. Staring at it fully, he saw that the creature was writhing, trapped firmly under a few large stones. The side with the demodog was thoroughly collapsed, and the wall Steve pressed himself against was made of dirt, cracked vines, and stones.

The dog-like creature shifted. Steve’s first instinct was to grab his nail-bat and kill the monster, but he quickly thought better of it.

Trapped or no, that thing could still rip my arm off if I got too close, and it seems…pretty stuck.

It was better to try to free himself from the pocket of space and make a break for it before the demodog got free.

“Uh…you just—stay,” Steve said to the monster, lamely pointing his finger as if he was commanding his aunt’s toy poodle.

Slowly, Steve turned to the collapsed section behind him after he was sure that the monster behind him would stay put. Examining the wall closer, Steve nodded his head slowly as a plan formed in his mind. The cave-in was loose in some places, he could dig his way out.

Eventually.

Hopefully.

Steve didn’t know how much time had passed since he started digging, and he guessed it didn’t particularly matter. His hands had started to bleed almost immediately.

He did know that he was covered in dirt and slime, and his ribs were screaming at him to quit moving.

His stomach let out a loud groan.

Apparently, he was also starving.

Sighing for what felt like the thousandth time since this shitstorm began, he dropped back on his haunches.

He flew nearly face-first back into the wall as the demodog he had all but forgotten about let out a low growl from behind him. He could practically feel its hot breath on the back of his neck.

“Whoa!”

Now fully on the ground, he whipped around to face the beast, snatching up his bat as he turned.

It was still trapped.

He really didn’t have the patience for this.

“Hey, Shithead! Your personal space bubble doesn’t get to be this whole fuckin’ cave!” He growled back.

The dog took a pause, then gave a petulant hiss.

Steve stared at it. “Fucking unreal,” he muttered, dragging the backpack over to himself.

As he rifled through the bag, he looked back at the slimy creature.

“You know, you sorta remind me of this kid I know. Real piece of work. You’d get along.”

He stuck the flashlight in his mouth to use both hands to search. Seeing the items in the bag, he huffed a laugh as he spoke past the flashlight.

“Figures the only food he packs is a freakin’ candy bar.”

He pulled out the Three Musketeers bar and dropped the flashlight from between his teeth to bite the wrapper open. He addressed the demodog again.

“How ‘bout it, Shithead, candy for dinner? I won’t tell Mom if you don’t.” He muttered sardonically. Steve thought for a moment, “You even have a Mom? There some Mommy-Demo waiting for you right now?”

The demodog snorted flatly.

”Tough crowd.”

Taking a bite, Steve chewed thoughtfully as the sweet smell of nougat filled the small space.

The demodog let out an excited chirp, pulling again on its trapped leg as it tried to scramble towards Steve.

Huh.

Looking at the demodog now, he noticed its smaller stature compared to the monsters he’d fought before, the faint yellow striping on its sides not found on the bigger demodogs. He almost looked like a baby…

No way.

“…Dart?”

Chapter Text

“You’re not Shithead! You’re Dart, aren’t you?” Steve exclaimed with a breathless laugh, “Like, Dustin’s Dart. Oh, man, wait until he hears about this!”

He tipped his head back with another laugh, ruined hair falling into his eyes.

“Out of all the freaks I could be stuck in here with, I got you. Unbelievable.”

Dart didn’t seem to care what Steve was saying; his attention was still locked onto the Three Musketeers Bar, face-petals twitching and curling as if to sniff the air. Dart released an impatient huff.

Steve raised an eyebrow as he considered Dart. The animal seemed to be getting more and more desperate with each bite that Steve took. Eventually, Dart began furiously straining against the fallen stones, tugging his trapped leg to a point it was almost painful to watch.

Suddenly, Steve was struck with the startling realization that Dart might actually break free. If nougat was Dart’s dinner, Steve was about to be dessert.

“Hey—hey! Let’s not get too excited,” Steve hurried to unwrap the rest of the bar, fumbling with it like it was a stick of dynamite about to blow, and tossed it towards Dart.

The creature snapped the treat right out of the air, making quick work of Steve’s only food.

“For a dude with no eyes, you’re one hell of a catch,” Steve said with an aborted laugh. He found it hard to joke when imagining those teeth put to work against him.

Dart still paid him no mind, happily smacking his lips together, apparently trying to get the last of the chocolate off his teeth, despite having no tongue.

“That was disgusting, you know. That was just gross. You could've at least savored it for the both of us.” Steve complained.

Turning his head towards Steve, Dart gave an inquisitive mewl. An honest-to-goodness mewl, as if to say ‘more?’ Steve had certainly never expected to hear that kind of noise leave a demodog’s mouth.

“Don’t give me that face, we’re shit outta luck in the food department, buddy.”

Steve was quickly reminded of what he was talking to and his current situation when the roof of the cave released a sprinkling of dirt from overhead.

Steve and Dart shared a nervous look as they waited for a second cave-in to bury them alive. A moment passed, and Steve allowed a rough giggle laced with anxiety; even Dart appeared to relax his shoulders minutely.

”Well, that was a close—“

Immediately, the tunnels began to shake violently, raining down clouds of soil and small rocks as the two of them rushed to duck low. The sound of snapping vines and creaking roots screamed all around them. Without warning, the rocks trapping Dart shifted, and the monster squealed in pain.

Without thinking, Steve’s arm shot out to try to stabilize the stones, not registering how close his hand was to Dart’s gnashing maw until one tooth caught the skin of his forearm, tearing a new gash on his already bloodied arms.

An irrational anger burst in Steve's chest. “Chill the hell out, man, I'm trying to help you! Do you want to die?” He shouted.

Why the fuck am I trying to help a demodog? He thought.

Regardless, that seemed to bring Dart out of his panicked frenzy; the creature stopped struggling and lowered his head to the ground, and seemed to consider Steve, even as the tunnel continued to quake.

Not stopping to wonder why Dart listened, Steve braced his shoulder against the trembling rock above the creature. The stone dug painfully into his skin, his injured back twinged with the sudden weight.

Steve lost track of how long the shaking lasted, too caught up in his own pain and trying–for some reason–to keep Dart from getting pancaked.

Dustin would never forgive me if I let his stupid pet (however exotic) get squished. Steve thought forlornly.

It definitely didn’t have to do with the way Dart’s squeal of pain had pulled sharply on Steve's heartstrings, launching him into action.

Just as the thought entered his mind, the tunnels gave one last groan, and the shaking came to a stuttering halt. Again, the joy was short-lived.

Fuck! My escape tunnel!

Grabbing the flashlight, Steve rushed the short distance over to the place he had just spent hours digging out with his bare hands. He scrambled on his hands and knees; the cave was no longer conducive to his full height.

Shining the light at the wall, air left Steve in a rush of relief when he saw that his little tunnel was mostly intact. Finally, a bit of luck.

Steve allowed himself a moment to breathe, slumping against the vines and sucking in the stagnant air with shaky inhales. He suddenly wondered how much air he had left before he passed out; he’d already been here for at least three hours, if his admittedly poor estimation skills were anywhere near the ballpark. He guessed he had about three more hours until things got iffy, but he had no real way of being sure.

He turned back to his unlucky companion, “Sooner the better, huh, Dart?”

Dart, of course, just stared at him.

Steve pushed himself through the wall with a final heave, stumbling out into a larger network of tunnels.

I guess it was too much to ask to pop out topside.

He could practically hear Dustin sneer at him in his head, ‘Of course you didn’t end up on the surface, you dug horizontally, dumbass.'

“Well, I couldn’t very well dig up, could I?” Steve said to no one. He stood for a moment as the echo of his voice died.

…

“How the hell hard did Billy hit me?” He said, again, to no one.

Squinting his eyes, Steve turned back to the little burrow he made, hoping he could fit back through to grab his stuff. He groaned, fitting through the first time was torture on his ribs, and his head was starting to ache with a vengeance again.

Steve wriggled back through the opening with some trouble, entering again into the dingy pocket of space with a groan.

He shuffled over to his bag and bat, situating them on himself to fit through the narrow escape tunnel, ignoring Dart snorting energetically at his return.

”Well, Dart old pal, this is where we part ways.” He droned. It was obvious Dart didn’t understand his meaning, still facing him expectantly.

Steve turned and crouched at the mouth of the tunnel, staring down its darkness intently but hesitating to leave.

He spared a glance at Dart, who still lay beneath the cave-in, beyond hope of freedom.

Steve let out a frustrated sigh and stomped over to Dart’s side of the cave.

“Don’t," he paused, “make me regret this.”

Without waiting to gauge Dart’s response, Steve gripped the largest stone that entrapped Dart and pulled with the last of his strength, yelping as the rock came free and slid away, just missing his foot.

Dart wasted no time, springing away and out of the escape hole in a flash.

“...You’re welcome, asshole!” Steve shouted after him. Stupidly feeling a bit miffed at Dart’s lack of acknowledgment.

Steve came to the mouth of the tunnel again and prepared to crawl through.

”Do me a favor and don’t tear my face off when I climb through, yeah?” Steve called out, trying to quell the fear that squirmed in his gut at the thought of Dart waiting for him at the opening, but also at the idea that he wouldn't be. Steve didn't want to be alone down here, even if that meant his only company was an interdimensional hellhound.

Maybe it was stupid, maybe Steve was stupid, but he thought they shared a moment stuck down there together.

Man, you’ve gone soft, Harrington. And the voice of the thought wasn’t Dustin this time.

He climbed into the hole.

When Steve popped through the tunnel for the second time, he did, in fact, come face-to-face with a splayed maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. But they didn't clamp down and rip his head off, surprisingly. Dart just stood there and panted in Steve’s face. Before Steve could react, Dart took off down the tunnel, ran in a tight circle, and came charging right back, stopping directly at Steve's feet.

Steve hadn't actually considered that Dart would stay with him. Most people don't even stay.

“Okay, well, you're free now, I guess. Go on, get outta here,” he said, making a shooing motion with his hand, belatedly realizing Dart couldn’t actually see it. He felt foolishly like one of those boys in a sad dog film. Dart remained at his feet.

“Oh come on, man, we are not friends, I don't even understand why we’re not trying to kill each other right now. Don’t you have some evil master plan to follow or something?”

Again, Dart just looked at him patiently.

He really was going soft.

“Whatever, man, I don’t even care at this point. Temporary truce?” Steve asked flatly.

Dart chirped in what Steve could only interpret as agreement.

Steve stared at Dart for a second before starting down the tunnel, bat in hand.

“I guess I could use the company anyway.”

He turned to see if Dart was following.

“Forward march.” He ordered sarcastically gesturing ahead of them; Dart leapt after him.

Chapter Text

Steve hit the ground with a sharp cry, his body refusing to carry him any further. He hadn’t allowed himself to take full stock of his condition, worried that confirmation of his fears would send him flat on his ass.

Someone would find him eventually.

Just keep moving.

Don’t think.

He was good at that.

Now he had little choice in the matter. His beaten ribs sent jolts of pain with every step, leaving him breathless. The cuts on his face stung anytime he winced in pain, and his hands burned each time he stumbled, catching himself on the tunnel wall.

It was hard to distinguish what wounds came from his fight with Billy, and what came after during the demodog stampede.

Steve could handle the physical pain, though. Pain was just a fact to be accepted and dealt with. It was a passing moment. It was the state of his mind that made his hands shake and sweat bead upon his hairline. The way his mind would wander as he walked, getting lost in strange, dream-like thoughts. He found himself nearly stumbling into the tunnel walls, tripping on nothing, even forgetting to keep walking at times. Even Dart had taken notice, slowing to walk by his side after his most recent tumble.

At first, he was wary of Dart's increasing interest in him. Doubtless, the monster was waiting to strike out at him in his moment of weakness. Surely any other demodog would have leapt at the chance to kill by now. But Steve didn’t have the presence of mind to think any deeper about Dart’s oddity.

In the back of his mind, though, he was comforted by the light touches of Dart bumbling into him, silently guiding him away from fallen detritus as they limped forward together. Even sightless, he was still more graceful than Steve in his current state.

With no one else around to act tough for, it was no longer necessary to put on a brave face; act like he wasn’t hurt, that this place didn’t get to him. Because it did. Maybe it was childish, but he had believed his mother when she assured him monsters didn’t exist, that there was nothing to fear under his bed. Apparently, the monsters lived deeper than just below a mattress.

Steve wanted out of this hellhole.

He clenched his jaw and trudged on, resisting the blackening of his vision and the wearing of his muscles.

Eventually, despite Dart’s help, he couldn’t keep going. His whole being was screaming for him to stop; to close his eyes and fade away from the constant pain.

So here he sat, unable to move forward, but unwilling to sit still.

Dart sat by the wall opposite him and whined. The sound pierced his skull like an ice pick.

“For the love of God, shut up!” Steve moaned ruefully. “Are you too stupid to see I’m hurt? I need a second, you creepy fuck!” He bit out. Stupidly, he hoped his words would hurt Dart’s feelings.

Dart sniffed, got up, and walked down the tunnel, disappearing.

“W-wait! Hey, I—” Steve choked out, resisting the rising nausea from all his shouting. “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean it,” he said, around building tears. ‘Dart, stop! I’m sorry!”

The only answer was fading paw steps.

The darkness of the tunnel seemed to be closing in around him, constricting his bruised ribs, ripping the breath from his lungs.

That’s just like you, Steve, driving away all your friends with your bullshit. It’s really no wonder you're all alone, he thought bitterly.

Fat tears rolled down his face, salt stinging the open cuts as they dripped off his chin. He dropped his head onto his knees, curling into himself despite the ache, wishing this damned tunnel would swallow him whole.

It felt like the end of a play, Dart and the rest of the party exiting stage right, leaving Steve to the dimming lights and a dispersing audience. No one cared about Steve standing alone behind dark curtains with nothing interesting to say. Steve only felt the spotlight when he shared it with other, more important players.

Wouldn't there have been some sign that someone was looking for him if it weren’t true?

He sat there, silent tears trailing down his cheeks, as he took short, shaking breaths, willing himself to either get up or give up. This limbo was excruciating.

A sound broke through his haze of loathful thoughts. For a moment, he found he didn’t care to look up; whatever was coming, he probably deserved.

A drop of blood splat onto the toe of Steve’s sneakers, causing him to flinch up from his hunched position in surprise.

A very plump and very dead mole was dropped on his shoe. Steve stared at it, uncomprehending.

He looked up, gazing into Dart's bloody teeth. The creature chuffed at him quietly and nudged the rodent further up Steve's shoe.

“Is this…for me?” Steve asked slowly, face wet and voice thick from crying.

Dart chuffed again, more exuberantly.

“That’s…actually really kind of you, man.” Steve was beginning to feel even worse about how he’d treated Dart. He considered eating the mole as atonement, probably for longer than he should have.

“Hey, dude, listen. I—uh—I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier. Not cool at all,” Steve wiped his eyes roughly, “It’s just that—well, you probably can’t even understand me, so this might be for no reason but, I’m sorry.” Steve finished with a cringing expression.

Dart stared at him for a moment before slowly walking up to Steve. Steve’s stomach dropped as the monster came closer to his face. He could smell the scent of death seeping from Dart’s mouth. But the creature simply fluttered his mouth on the corner of Steve’s own as if he was saying ‘Mouth. Eat’.

“Dart, as much as it means to me, and I’m very thankful, I am not eating a raw mole for the sake of our friendship.” He said, not unkindly. Still reeling at a demodog’s teeth being so close to him.

Steve hesitantly picked up the mole by its little tail and held it in front of Dart’s closed face.

”Here. All for you.”

Dart looked at the hanging mole, then back to Steve, then to the mole again. His scaly tail began to wag softly.

“C’mon, I see that tail, man. You know you want it.” Steve teased, waving the mole slightly.

Dart’s face suddenly peeled back and snatched the mole rather ungracefully from Steve's waiting hand, chewing it grotesquely.

“Bon appétit…I guess,” He said, moderately disturbed, but grateful his hand had remained attached.

After a while of sitting and resting (and digesting, on Dart’s part) the pair eventually got to their feet again and began their trek down the tunnel once more. To where? Steve wasn’t entirely sure. But after the cave-in, staying in one place felt wrong, dangerous.

Steve talked as they walked. If only to keep himself awake. Dart seemed content to listen all the same.

”It’s just that—it’s almost like—like I can’t not be in control, you know? So when I’m not, or I feel threatened or embarrassed or something, I just get mean. Cause if I can pose as this tough guy who can push people around, then I feel like that gives me back the reins…y’know? At least over the people around me. Does that make sense?’ Steve looked down at Dart, “You ever feel that way?”

Dart chirped noncommittally.

“Yeah, it's douche-y. I’m working on it, though. They say you should face your issues head-on, right? I guess this,” he gestured generally, “is that. I have absolutely fuck-all control down here. Totally out of my depth,” Steve nudged Dart playfully with his hip, “That’s why I’m keeping you around—”

Steve tripped on something large. The shock nearly sent him to the ground.

Whipping around with his flashlight, he nearly fainted at the sight below him.

Five demodogs lay strewn about the tunnel floor. Steve had practically stepped on one, and it hadn’t so much as twitched.

…They're dead.

Regardless, Steve scrambled backwards to Dart’s side.

”Shit!”

Is something down here killing demodogs? That thought didn’t make sense. The only thing that Steve knew that could take down a demodog was a demogorgon…or…

”El!” Steve exclaimed, with a sudden laugh. Relief burst through him. They had won. They actually closed the gate and locked away the Upside Down for good!

This meant that they should be regrouping; everyone has to know I'm missing by now!

A horrible realisation struck him then: they had no idea where he was. He had no idea where he was.

I’m so stupid! Moving around like this was the worst thing I could’ve done! Idiot! Steve chastised himself.

“I’m gonna die down here,” he whispered to himself.

His eyes glided back to Dart. Who was sniffing a dead demodog with disinterest. Another thought struck him.

“How are you not dead?” He wondered aloud. Growing nervous for his new friend.

Dart simply looked up at him.

Dustin said that the monsters were all somehow connected. That’s why we lit the fire to begin with. To hurt the hive mind. So why…

“You’re…not connected to the hive mind. Are you?”

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Dustin paced back and forth across the creaking wooden floor of Hopper’s cabin, mumbling agitatedly under his breath. Every few moments the boy would pause his walking and glance nervously from across the room at Steve’s unconscious form, which sat cuffed to a chair, arms and legs secured against rough wood. 

Dustin had been uncharacteristically quiet since finding and “apprehending” Steve (as Hopper had put it). It hadn’t sat right with him, the way everyone was treating Steve. Like he was dangerous, or suddenly their enemy. They hadn’t treated Will this harshly. 

Steve was just sick, and he would get better. More importantly, he was hurt, and no one was helping him. 

Even still, Steve’s dark gaze from earlier unsettled Dustin, so he hesitated to approach his friend. He hated himself for it.

Dustin stopped his pacing once more and took a deep breath as he steeled himself.

“I must provide assistance,” he repeated to himself as he walked into the kitchen and collected and wet the softest kitchen towel he could find in the dingy cabin. 

With materials gathered, Dustin made his way back to the living room. The space had been cleared of most furniture, leaving just Steve, slumped over in the middle of the room.

Dustin looked around the home before he fully approached Steve, mercifully the only other person in the immediate area was Lucas, who had promptly fallen asleep in the adjoining guest room. The other boy had cited his “long night” as his defense, but how he could even consider sleeping through any of this was beyond Dustin.

Hopper was in his room on the phone with Ms. Byers, having a tense conversation, if Hopper’s muffled shouts of exasperation were anything to go by. 

Nancy and Max were outside, making sure there were no more demodogs around and securing the outside of the cabin. Dustin could hear them bumping around somewhere outside the kitchen windows.

Now was the perfect time to try to get Steve awake and make a plan; or more realistically, at least get him cleaned up.

Standing in front of Steve, Dustin became less sure that his little rag could do the job. The older boy was filthy, for lack of a more pleasant term. From head to toe, the poor teen was layered in dust and mud, and spores. Dustin feared more what the mess was hiding underneath; he could, even with all the dirt, see a smearing of red mixing sickeningly on Steve’s skin.

He was still too jittery to look directly at the boy’s face, even with the blindfold. So, Dustin took one of Steve’s hands in his. Hopper’s cuffs made it hard for Dustin to manipulate Steve’s arms, but it would have to do. 

With a feather-light touch, he began to wipe Steve’s hand, removing blood and soil. His towel quickly turned a gross ruddy brown color. 

Tears began to well in Dustin’s eyes as he took in the state of his friend's hands. 

His fingers were red and all had jagged cuts and tears; many of his nails were cracked and bloodied, some were missing chunks of nail or the nail bed was left completely empty. The scale of the damage went all the way up his forearms.

Holy shit. 

Steve had obviously dug his way out. And it was Dustin’s fault. 

All of this was Dustin’s fault. 

He let the tears fall openly as he gingerly placed Steve’s hand back in the boy's lap, moving on to the second.

He was just finishing the second hand when he saw one of the raw fingers twitch. Then the entire hand flexed and started to shake minutely. 

Dustin slowly lifted his head from where he kneeled at Steve’s side to look at the boy. Steve was obviously waking up, his head bobbed slightly and little pained sounds escaped his lips in tiny hum-like cries.

Dustin was conflicted on whether he should fetch Hopper, or let Steve wake in peace. 

Fuck Hopper. He thought defiantly.

Dustin held Steve’s hand lightly, putting hardly any pressure, but maintaining enough contact to give comfort. 

Steve was shaking all over now. 

“Hey, Buddy,” Dustin whispered, “Do you know where you are?”

Dustin rolled his eyes at himself as he remembered the blindfold, and the fact that the whole point of being at Hopper's cabin was so Steve and the Mind Flayer wouldn’t know where he was. 

“Err, I mean—do you remember what happened?” Dustin amended and patted the top of Steve’s hand softly.

Steve sniffed a little through a bloody nose, and his voice shook as he answered.

“Tunnels? It’s dark.” He sounded on the verge of panic.

Dustin stood as he hurried to comfort his friend, “No, nope! Not in the tunnels, man. You're just—uh—blindfolded.” He ended the sentence as though it were a question.

Steve paused before he cleared his throat, wincing. “Dart?”

Dustin arched an eyebrow. Why would Steve be asking about Dart? He answered truthfully anyway.

“He escaped, ran back into the tunnels. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, Steve.” Dustin assured him. 

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, but he quickly tensed back up at the sound of Hopper’s heavy footsteps. He was in the room before Dustin could distance himself from Steve. Hopper glared unhappily at Dustin, who felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“He’s awake.” Dustin supplied unhelpfully, holding one hand out to gesture at Steve.

“Yeah,” Hopper said flatly, “I can see that. And, you didn’t come tell me because…?”

Because you’re a big fat son of a bitch, Dustin answered in his head.

Dustin didn’t answer as Hopper walked further into the room, deciding to just glare at the man instead. 

Hopper moved to stand between Dustin and Steve, taking the younger boy by the shoulder and moving him back. Dustin dropped Steve’s hand as gently as he could as he stumbled back a step. 

Hopper looked at him and sighed pointedly. 

”That,” he pointed at Steve, “is not your friend, kid. Treating him like he is, isn’t helping you or the situation. And treating me like the enemy isn’t either.”

Steve made a noise of disagreement, but seemed to still be too disoriented to defend himself properly.

Dustin disagreed too, but held his tongue. “Well, I can still talk to him, try to figure out what the hell happened.” He countered. 

Hopper just sighed again, at which point Nancy and Max returned through the front door. Upon seeing the development, Max walked off into the room where Lucas slept. A distinct sound of a pillow being slammed into something was heard, and then an (embarrassingly high-pitched) yelp.

Max reentered, a mopey Lucas trailing behind. They both sat on the couch that had been moved to the wall. Nancy stood just behind Hopper, peering at Steve critically. 

Dustin clapped his hands together, eliciting a flinch from Steve. “Well, I say we take off the blindfold,” he stated casually.

“No.” “What?”

Hopper and Nancy both replied immediately.

“Come on,” Dustin defended, “it’s not like Steve’s been here before, right, Chief? He couldn’t alert the Mind Flayer if he tried!” He said with false sweetness. 

Dustin waited a second before continuing, “Plus, it’ll be easier to interrogate him. And, he’s obviously uncomfortable.”

The group looked at Steve and even though his eyes were concealed, it was clear to everyone that he was only barely keeping it together.

Still, Hopper resisted, “I’m sorry, does this look like the Hilton? I don’t care if the shadow monster is ‘uncomfortable’!”

“He’s not the Mind Flayer, he’s Steve!” Dustin shouted, hating how his voice broke a little.

“You guys are such idiots,” Max complained, her voice much closer than Dustin was prepared for.

As he turned to face her, he saw a hand go behind Steve’s head, and pull off the blindfold. Max stood there and threw it to the ground, seemingly bored.

She crossed her arms as she looked at Hopper, who looked like he was ready to combust, and said, “But, Dustin’s right.”

Steve peeled his eyes open hesitantly, cringing at the sensation of the dried tears that clumped his eyelashes together being separated.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, dim though it was. After a second, Steve lifted his head and peered around his surroundings. He was in some kind of cabin, where exactly the cabin was located he couldn’t tell as all the windows were drawn or covered up by boards or fabric. His stomach sank with a rolling sense of dread.

Slowly, he turned to look at the crowd he’d seemed to have gathered. It struck him suddenly how little he actually knew these people. He tried to keep the fear off his face as he surveyed them.

The redheaded girl—Max—his foggy brain supplied, was standing closest to him, arms crossed in a defensive position. She looked at him through narrowed, but not unkind eyes. She seemed more curious than anything else.

Steve moved his gaze to the other side of the room, landing on Hopper who stared down at him with a deep frown. Steve’s eyes flicked to the gun holstered at his hip, and he sank back in his chair involuntarily. If Hopper noticed he didn’t show it.

Behind Hopper sat Lucas on a threadbare couch. The boy seemed nervous, but offered him a polite, if awkward, wave of his hand.

Then he looked to Nancy who was lingering in the back of the room, avoiding his gaze. He moved on from her quickly.

Lastly, there was Dustin who stood beside Hopper. Steve noticed immediately the shiny tracks of tears running down his cheeks, though the boy wiped them off hurriedly as Steve’s attention turned to him. 

Steve felt a pang of guilt slice through him as he recalled how the boy had flinched away from him last time they met. Steve wondered how long he had been asleep. Hours? Days? He couldn’t tell; couldn’t bring himself to think past the pain of his body and the gun at Hopper’s side.

Before he could spiral any further, Dustin pushed past Hopper and leaned close into Steve’s space, squinting directly at eye-level with him.

Suddenly, the boy straightened and a wide smile spread across his face.

“His eyes are normal again! And the veins, they’re not black! Look!” Dustin basically cheered.

Steve raised a confused eyebrow at Dustin’s exclamation.

My eyes? Black veins? What?

“Huh?” Was all Steve was able to groan out.

Nobody answered Steve but Hopper bowed to look closer at Steve’s face. Steve frowned and leaned further back in his chair, glaring at the man.

Hopper shook his head in Steve’s face, then stood erect again.

“This doesn’t mean anything. Will didn’t show symptoms for a long while. He’s probably just hiding them,” He grunted.

Dustin groaned loudly, like he was immensely put out by Hopper.

“Well, this is obviously different—” The boy stated.

“It’s not different,” Hopper spoke over him.

Lucas got up from the couch and walked to stand next to Max before he said, “Why don’t we just ask Steve what happened? Then maybe we’ll know what exactly we’re dealing with and if it’s different than Will’s case.” 

Steve turned to Lucas, “I like that idea. I vote for that one.”

“You don’t get a vote,” Hopper said sternly, pointing at Steve.

Steve let his head fall back and sighed. This was utterly ridiculous. 

After a moment of nobody speaking, Hopper pulled up a chair and sat in front of Steve.

“Okay, Harrington, here’s your chance. What happened?” Hopper folded his hands in his lap, expecting. 

Begrudgingly, Steve began to recount the events of the last thirty or so hours (according to Dustin). He went over waking up in the cave-in with Dart, digging out, and agreeing to a truce, finding the dead demodogs (which seemed to be of immense interest to the group), and finally escaping. Steve brushed over as much of the connection with Dart as he could. For some reason, it felt private or personal to him.

When he finished his tale, he sat back in his chair and stared at them, waiting for the reaction.

Naturally, Dustin was the first to break the silence. 

“That’s awesome, dude! I knew Dart wasn’t a bad guy!” Dustin’s eyes seemed to grow even larger as if another more exciting thought came to mind, “Wait, you totally have, like, badass Ranger abilities now! Dart’s like your companion!”

Lucas looked affronted at Dustin’s words, “Hey! I’m The Party’s Ranger!”

“We can have two Rangers, dumbass,” Dustin defended.

“Hey! This is not part of your stupid board game!” Hopper cut in, frustrated. “That story is a bunch of bull, it’s the Mind Flayer trying to trick you and you're falling for it.” He grit out. 

“I’m not the Mind Flayer, man! What about me screams evil cosmic entity to you?” Steve argued back, becoming agitated.

”Okay, Harrington, prove it,” Hopper challenged, saying Steve’s surname like it was fake.

“How the hell am I supposed to prove that, ‘Hopper’?” Steve used air quotes when he said the man’s name, though his hands were still bound, so it didn’t have the same effect. 

All of this talking was making his migraine flare up. 

Dustin piped up again, “You guys said Will couldn’t remember stuff right? Important stuff like his family's names. Why don’t we just ask him questions like that?”

No one objected to the idea, but as the silence passed on it was embarrassingly clear that no one could think of a question about Steve they actually knew the answer to. Even Nancy looked ashamed as she couldn’t think of anything meaningful to ask Steve.

Steve laughed dryly, “Well, this is awkward.”

As tension grew in the cabin, and Hopper looked increasingly impatient, Dustin took on a somber expression and stepped forward with what appeared to be a heavy heart.

“Steve,” he said grimly, “What is your hair routine?”

Steve’s eye twitched.

“What did you just ask me, Henderson?” He replied coolly.

“C’mon, dude! Just tell me how you do your hair!” The boy pleaded dramatically.

Steve looked torn, like he was actually considering keeping his secret, despite Hopper’s threatening glare. 

He turned back to Dustin with a dark expression, and the kid was briefly concerned that Steve truly was the Mind Flayer. 

“Four. Puffs.” Steve ground out, “That’s all you’re getting, Henderson.”

Luckily, Dustin looked satisfied with his answer and Steve slumped back in his chair.

”Congratulations, Steven, you’ve passed.” Dustin said happily.

Hopper and the others looked, to Steve’s delight, completely lost.

”What? That’s not an answer!” Lucas exclaimed. Obviously put out that Dustin knew something he didn’t. 

Dustin turned to him with a smile, “Oh, but it is, my friend. Steve here has just proved his innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt. His non-answer is actually the only correct answer; the only answer real-Steve is capable of providing.”

Hopper stood from his chair. “We’re done. You all are obviously incapable of taking this seriously. We do it my way.” The Chief said darkly, walking away.

Steve perked up, shuffling in his seat, “…where is he going? What’s ‘his way’? Dustin?” He looked around at the nervous faces surrounding him. 

“Guys?”

Hopper reentered the room after a long minute, in his hand was a fire poker, glowing red at its tip.

Steve struggled in his bindings, bucking in the chair as he tried in vain to get away from Hopper.

“Whoa! Whoa! Chief, whatever you’re doing, just—stop for a second! C’mon, man!” Steve pleaded, trying now to back his chair away from the advancing cop.

Hopper didn’t listen to or respond to Steve in any way. 

“Chief, stop!” Dustin cried out, trying to move forward. Nancy stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. 

Max stood, shocked by the scene, as Lucas pulled her away from Hopper and Steve, both with a twin look of horror on their faces.

Hopper was upon Steve now, slowly raising the firepoker towards Steve's bare neck.

Fear ran wild in Steve’s mind, he knew Dart must be feeling the same emotion empathetically through their bond. He mentally pleaded for comfort from his lost companion.

Dart seemed to have a different plan.

As the firepoker neared Steve’s skin, a flash of rage swept across Steve’s mind.

Dustin watched in terror as Hopper brandished the glowing firepoker at Steve’s struggling form. 

Just as the metal rod pressed close to the panicked teen’s throat, something seemed to switch in Steve’s demeanor.

Within a single moment, Steve went from struggling away from Hopper to lunging at him with an infuriated yell.

Surprisingly, Hopper jumped away from the boy in a stumbling motion.

Dustin's heart sank as he looked at Steve now. The dark veins had appeared again, but darker this time, and reached all the way from his neck down to his hands, spreading around his eyes. Worse still, the disturbing shadowed look had colored his friend’s gaze, making him look shark-like and violent.

Steve gave another shout, straining his cuffed wrist against the arm of the wooden chair, splintering the wood and snapping the small chains. Upon freeing his first arm, Steve ripped the second cuff away from its chain, then tore his legs free from the (admittedly feeble) cording. Standing free now, Steve took two fast steps towards Hopper, grabbing the firepoker, tearing it from the man's grasp, sending it flying into the cabin wall beside them. The dying scream of burning wood was the only sound in the cabin as the two men stood facing each other.

“What the fuck! What is wrong with all of you?” Steve growled, a dark gaze scanning the room. “I got treated better in those fuckass tunnels by an animal than I have by you!” 

He turned to face Hopper, glowering, “I spend, what, a day lost in an interdimensional tunnel, after getting my ass handed to me twice trying to protect these kids, then I get my face sucked on Alien style by a demodog and you, the grown adult, tied me to a chair instead of, I don’t know, taking me to the Emergency Room? Then you try to fucking brand me with a firepoker! What the hell?” He finished, panting.

Dustin watched as Steve turned from Hopper and unceremoniously dropped himself down on the couch. The veins slithered back, his eyes fading to their normal color as Steve tried to balance his breathing.

“If you're not going to help me, take me home.” He said solemnly, hugging himself.

Chapter Text

The whole room was silent, not even a breath could be heard, as if any action would break the tentative peace.

Steve stared at the floor, a rogue tear falling into his lap. He inhaled deeply through his nose and blew the air back out of his mouth in an attempt to steady his storming emotions.

He could feel Dart. Steve wished he were here with him now. Distantly his friend was sending soft waves of comfort and sympathy flowing over the bond.

The boy tried to let the sensation flutter to the front of his mind, but the memories of the last few minutes kept rearing up causing him to squirm with guilt and fear.

Steve had never felt that kind of visceral fear. Not in the tunnels, or even his first time seeing a demogorgon. 

In that moment—as Hopper stalked towards him—he felt less than human. It was as if he were an animal caught savagely in a trap, a rifle aiming; or a rabid dog that knew it was about to be put out of its misery.

But the fear had grown into something else entirely. Something foreign and almost wrong. 

Dart had sensed it within him, and dragged it out, sharpened it; feeding it with his own fear and anger. The creature had understood the overwhelming urge to fight back. To protect the bond.

It was an instinct Steve had not been born knowing: The urge to fight and claw and snap at the things trying to do him or the connection harm. It had completely overridden everything else. 

That is what had his hands shaking; cold running down his spine as he sat weak-legged on the cushions.

How he had had no thought of anything else. How Hopper had been a thing to him. Not a friend. Not even a person; but an enemy in the way two wild beasts would regard one another.

Only, Hopper hadn’t seen Steve that way. He saw Steve as a fellow human—a child. 

And he was going to burn me anyway, Steve thought. And that almost had the black veins snaking right back out. He coughed over an aborted growl.

“Steve?” A hesitant voice said next to him, close enough that Steve should have noticed the approach. 

Steve glanced up, Dustin was standing by his knee, a glass of water in his hand. He looked abashed, not making total eye contact. But he didn't appear scared. A horrible thought struck Steve that maybe he should be. 

The smaller boy held out the cup toward the teen with both hands.

Slowly—not wanting to startle Dustin if he was, in fact, fearful of Steve and just had a surprisingly good pokerface—he reached to accept the glass.

He was almost startled to find that his hands were clean. They were still an angry red, seeping blood in some places; but they had clearly been cared for at some point.

Steve took the cup to his lap and stared curiously at his hands for a moment.

“Oh yeah, I tried to clean you up a little bit while you were passed out,” Dustin looked a little shy, “sorry, maybe I should’ve asked first.”

It was strange seeing the kid so unsure. It was so unlike the boisterous boy that he’d gotten to know over the last few days. Had it really only been days? Steve thought it felt more like years had passed.

“No, Henderson, that's…that was really nice of you,” Steve responded softly, taking a sip of water. 

It really had been days, and it was beginning to dawn on Steve that he'd been without water for most of them. The cool liquid felt like heaven on his dry throat, after all the dirt and spores. And the screaming.

“Thank you, man,” Steve spoke quickly past a lump forming in his throat. It definitely didn’t come out as unbothered as he’d hoped. He sounded wrecked. 

After he finished his water, Steve braced himself to look around at the others still gathered in the room. 

Surprisingly, Hopper was absent from the scene.

“He had to ‘make some calls’,” Dustin said, noting Steve's confusion. The boy seemed only too pleased about this. 

Steve nodded and found he relaxed at that. He took in the faces still present.  

Dustin, of course, stood closest to him—it was actually starting to feel like the kid had a personal space problem.

Lucas and Max hadn’t moved from the middle of the room. Lucas had his hand protectively on Max’s shoulder. They both eyed the firepoker still sticking out of the wall with narrowed gazes. Had he really thrown it that hard?

Nancy stood in the back of the room, but quickly exited into the kitchen when Steve locked eyes with her. His heart sank. 

“Are you…Alright, Steve?” Max asked hesitantly,  shaking Lucas’ hand from her shoulder with a huff. 

“Yeah, you seemed like you zoned out for a minute after your whole…” Dustin looked to the destroyed chair Steve had broken free from, “Well—that.” He added.

Steve cringed. There's no way they would believe him now. He'd certainly acted like he was possessed by a monster. He dropped his eyes to the floor. He couldn’t believe he did that in front of the kids.

Shame swirled in his gut.

“I’m sorry for scaring you guys,” he said, focusing on a crack in the floorboard under his foot.

His gaze wandered to his hands and he thought of the flash of grisly black veins he saw as he ripped the metal rod out of Hopper’s grip.

“I must have looked absolutely insane, like some sort of monster,” he chuckled sadly. “But I promise—I promise I'm not.” 

He needed these kids to understand that no matter what, no matter how he looked, he would never harm them. 

Can you promise that? A voice in the back of his head hissed insidiously. 

Steve took another deep breath. 

“It was pretty fucked-up,” Max stated nonchalantly. 

He looked up in time to see Lucas shoot her a pleading glance. Dustin was already glaring. Max just shrugged as if to say, well it’s true. 

Dustin sighed thoughtfully, and to Steve’s surprise dropped down to sit directly next to him on the ratty couch.

The boy let out a long breath as if contemplating.

“Sometimes—sometimes people can look foul but feel fair, y’know?” Dustin spoke, looking off into the distance like a learned sage departing wisdom.

Steve squinted his eyes in thought.

“What?” He asked dumbly.

Lucas groaned. “Did you seriously just quote The Fellowship of the Ring at him?” The other boy asked in an exasperated tone.

Dustin looked affronted. “Paraphrased, technically.” He murmured back.

Steve took a second and then scoffed a little, “wait are you calling me, like, ugly right now?” 

Dustin stared at him with big eyes. “What? No, I said you’re fair!”

“You said ‘look foul’ and ‘feel fair’, I don’t want to look foul!” Steve argued and admonished that his looks were under attack.

Dustin huffed loudly, “That’s not even the point! I’m saying: even though, yes, you looked a little scary, you were never going to hurt anyone! You're still you.”

Dustin pointed at the firepoker, “All you did was disarm Hopper. You didn’t even look our way! You were just protecting yourself, Steve. You’re allowed to do that.”

Steve stared at Dustin, then at Max and Lucas, who both nodded at him. 

“Whatever is happening with you, I don’t think you want to hurt anyone. I don’t even think it’s the Mind Flayer.” Lucas stated.

“We believe you,” Max said.

Steve never could have anticipated this kind of reaction. Especially not from thirteen-year-olds he'd just met. This was more support than he'd probably ever had. 

He sniffed. “Yeah well, I’d still like to look fair, though.”

After a moment of laughter, the sound of soft footsteps alerted the group to the return of Nancy.

The group stared at her apprehensively for a moment. The girl was obviously feeling uncomfortable at the looks she was receiving, but she squared her shoulders and entered fully anyway. She was carrying a small red box full of what appeared to be medical supplies.

She let her eyes flicker to Steve for just a second before looking away and staring at nothing in particular. She refused to look daunted.

“I brought some bandages. Your hands look pretty rough.” She stated in a pointedly unemotional tone.

But when she looked at Steve again, her eyes were shining.

“May I?” She lifted the box slightly as she asked.

Steve felt a mix of emotions stir. Was he mad at Nancy? He felt like he should be. They were freshly broken up and she had let Hopper try to burn him. But at the same time, he had seen the fear in her eyes and he knew how Nancy thinks. She thought she was helping him as she had helped with Will. He couldn’t blame her for that.

And yet. He felt small when she looked at him; felt foul.

He nodded at her anyway.

She tried to smile a bit, but it was clearly forced. A show put on to try to keep Steve comfortable. He couldn’t bring himself to smile back, they were well past that.

She took a knee in front of him and set the box down at his feet. Swiftly, she plucked a little metal key from the top of the pile.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Hopper’s cuffs key,” she answered before he could ask.

She took his wrists—still bearing the bracelets of the cuffs—gently to her small hands, and for the first time he didn’t relish in her touch.

She unlocked the metal and discarded them behind her, out of sight. She moved quickly from there, recleaning his hands (much to Dustin’s disgruntlement) and applying disinfectant and other ointments, then finally wrapping them up to his elbows securely with bandages.

When she was done she leaned back and looked up at him critically, examining the rest of him. 

“You still need a hospital.” She said without a smile.

“Yeah.” Is all he said back.

She still looked displeased. She shifted where she kneeled on both knees before she spoke again.

“Steve,  I—” She cut herself off, seeming to rethink her words, “I heard what you all talked about; I was listening before I walked in. And—well, I believe you too.” She finished looking away from him.

“Your story about…Dart. I don’t know exactly how yet, but it makes sense. You aren’t acting like Will was.” She added.

Steve looked at her, a little dumbstruck at her admission.

She looked back towards him, she definitely had tears in her eyes now.

“And, Steve, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“Hey, I know, Nance. I know.” He stopped her with a soft whisper.

The room had just slipped into another round of contemplative silence when Hopper returned. His return disrupted the fragile stillness, causing the group to become visibly uncomfortable. Steve had to actively work to keep his mind from slipping back into that distant state of fight or flight.

Dustin sided-eyed him not-so-discreetly as Steve fought to lower his hackles.

Hopper looked uncomfortable as well, clearing his throat and fidgeting slightly with his belt buckle. 

“I spoke with Joyce. She's on her way to pick up you kids.” He said, gesturing lamely at the group. 

Before the kids could get out their full protests, Hopper silenced them with a stern cutting motion of his hand.

“I don't want to hear any argument. You all have been away from home too long already, your parents ought to be looking for you. It's time you get home and get cleaned up.” Hopper stated in a tone that left no room for nonsense. “This situation certainly isn't helped by your being here.”

“No way am I leaving Steve with you! You psycho!” Dustin spat indignantly.

Steve was inclined to agree with Dustin on this point. He didn’t want to be alone with Hopper any more than he wanted a hole in his head.

Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose at Dustin’s proclamation and breathed out in a controlled manner. But he looked at Steve when he spoke, instead.

“Look. This has been a stressful night.”

Steve had an expression, as if to say ‘Whose fault is that?’ 

Hopper continued, “And I understand that we all jumped the gun a little. But after talking to Ms. Byers, we came to the conclusion that what's happening now is different than Will’s case. The symptoms don’t completely match.”

Dustin stood abruptly from where he had been seated next to Steve.

“We tried to tell you that! But you had to go nuclear and try to burn Steve for no reason!” The boy accused.

Hopper’s mustache twitched in irritation, “I wasn’t going to—,” he took another calming breath, “It worked for Will. I thought it would be the fastest way to end all of this.”

“You guys fucking branded Will?” Steve bit out. Steve wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t had the damn thing nearly char his neck at Hopper’s own hand.

Nancy winced at the disgust in his tone. Hopper turned a shade paler but ignored Steve’s outburst.

“Regardless, now we know. I'm not going to hurt Steve; he was right earlier, he needs a hospital.” Hopper sighed, looking suddenly much more tired. 

Dustin looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but sat back down upon seeing Steve’s distracted expression. Still, he glared at Hopper like a man scorned.

The two held eye contact for what was verging on too long. 

Just as the silence was becoming unbearable, there was a scratching sound coming from the door. 

At the same time, Steve stood from the couch excitedly, he moved quickly, past Hopper, and right to the front door.  

Before anyone could say anything, Steve wrenched the door open. A demodog stood right in the doorway. 

Steve looked elated, though he spoke no words. He seemed to all the others as if he truly were having a silent conversation with the creature. 

Inside the cabin, Hopper inhaled sharply at the sight of the monster, hand moving directly to his holstered gun, and stepped in front of the group of kids.

Somehow, the eyeless creature sensed the motion and pushed itself in front of Steve with a low, terrible chittering.

Steve, eyes darkened, looked from the creature to Hopper, down to Hopper’s gun, and tensed bodily.

Before anyone could move, Dustin burst forward past Hopper, yelling jovially.

“Dart! It’s you!” The boy cheered, coming to a halt in front of the beast.

With Dustin in the way, neither Dart, Steve, nor Hopper could safely make a move.

“I knew you weren’t evil! I raised you better than that!” Dustin exclaimed, lifting a hand as if to touch Dart. 

Dart hesitated, but quickly sniffed the boy's hand. 

“He wants nougat." Chuckled Steve, “Thinks you’re his dealer.”

Steve paused and grimaced. 

“God, I think he’s making me crave it too.”

Dustin beamed at Dart with a toothy smile.

“You want nougat? I’ll get you all the nougat in the world, buddy! You saved Steve!”

Steve made a noise of disagreement, “Don’t give him too much credit. I’m pretty sure he was trying to eat me for a minute down there.”

Dart looked at Steve and huffed. Steve laughed in response, as if Dart had made a joke. The two continued to look at each other; the only indication of their conversation was slight changes in Steve’s facial expressions.

Dustin groaned. “This is so unfair! Can I join the hive mind?” The boy asked pleadingly.

Steve chuckled good-naturedly. “Sorry, Henderson, he only had enough in the tank for one.” Steve looked up in thought and cringed a little. “Plus, it wasn’t a stellar experience, I don’t really recommend it.”

Dart sighed as if this was an old complaint, Steve patted him on the back apologetically.

Before Dustin could whine more, the sound of tires crunching pine needles came from behind them, then lights. 

Hopper cleared his throat again, obliviously still not at ease near the demodog. 

“Alright, kids, you go with Joyce, Steve you come with me. We'll drop Nancy off on the way to the hospital. And figure out a cover story.” He said. 

Dart looked at Steve and chuffed urgently. Steve sighed with a half-smile.

“Dart wants you to know he has your scent and if you do anything to me he will hunt you down…in more or less words,” Steve spoke, his expression was only half joking. 

Dart looked like he might do so regardless. 

Hopper raised an eyebrow, “Noted.”

Steve turned back to Dart. “Go to Dustin’s house and wait for me in the woods behind it, you remember where, right?” Dart must have confirmed, as Steve continued with a nod, he kneeled next to his friend.

“I’ll come get you, and we can go home. Together.” Steve promised.

Dart let out a joyful squeal.