Chapter Text
“So my point is…” Steve starts, then trails off, clearly losing his grip on whatever he was about to say to the middle Wheeler child. He exhales, whipping his hands on the kitchen towel he’s holding. “Right. Yeah. We’re on the bench, so… there’s nothing we can do.”
Dove drops her head forward, pinching the skin between her brows in an attempt to dull the headache forming behind her eyes. There has been too much information thrown at her in the past few hours. A distorted version of Hawkins underneath them. Monsters. A girl with superpowers. It went against everything she knew and believed and this is not how she imagined today going when Max asked for a ride to the old junkyard.
Why did she give her that ride in the first place?
Oh. Right. Because she felt guilty. Because her brother is a total dick.
Well. She did not think Billy was a total dick at first. She actually thought he was incredibly hot. That part stayed true for a while. It stayed true when Billy flirted back, when he asked her out, when he kissed her and brought her home. It was fun, he was fun, and he was sweet enough.
It stopped being true when she told him to stop and his hands kept gripping her thighs like she was nothing but a piece of meat.
He stopped being fun and sweet when she said no, stop, and he did not listen.
Her voice was loud. She knew it carried through the house. Dove knew what to do. There was a reason guys whispered about her in the halls.
“She’ll bite your dick off,” they would say if someone mentioned asking her out.
She had a reputation of not taking shit from anyone. Not after the horror stories her older sister brought home from college. No way was she letting some boy think he could do whatever he wanted to her.
She pried Billy’s hands off her and shoved past him, getting out of his room as fast as she could. A moment later, she was face to face with his red-haired younger stepsister. Billy’s voice followed, a string of shouted curses. Max grabbed Dove’s hand immediately, dragged her out the front door, and told her to drive.
So she did.
They got ice cream. Dove told Max to call her anytime she needed a ride, or help, or just needed to get away.
Two days later, Billy apologized. Swore it would never happen again. Then he grabbed Dove’s ass in homeroom.
Dove slapped him.
She became Max’s hero that day, even though she slapped her brother. That’s why she called her when Lucas told her to come to the old junkyard, she knew she could trust her.
Now she is standing in Jonathan Byers’ living room with the boy Max has a crush on, his friends, and Steve Harrington, sweeping up broken glass left behind by a girl with… powers. This is after fighting what looked like dog lizards at the old junkyard. After watching Steve almost get eaten by one while protecting them. After walking down the old railroad tracks and finding out that this thing ate Dustin’s cat.
What the fuck.
Her head throbs. She really wants a cigarette.
“That’s not entirely true,” Dustin’s voice broke through the growing headache. “I mean, these demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”
Demo-dogs, that’s what they kept calling them, right.
“So, if we get their attention,” Lucas says, pointing at Dustin while still gripping the broom he used to sweep up the glass.
“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab,” Max finishes, lifting her gaze to meet his.
“And clear a path to the gate,” Mike adds. He is staring at the floor, almost wistful, his eyes still misty from when the girl with powers, Eleven, if Dove remembers correctly, left with Chief Hopper.
Dove is still confused because what has happened tonight defies everything she has ever believed. But at this point she has accepted that she is in too deep to back out. That, combined with not wanting to leave Max stranded, keeps her rooted where she is. And if Steve “The Hair” Harrington has to play babysitter without even having the experience she does, then she will stay.
Dammit.
“Yeah, and then we all die,” Steve says flatly. His arms are crossed at first, then spread wide as he talks, as if physically outlining the danger.
“That’s one point of view,” Dustin mutters from Steve’s left.
“More than just a point of view,” Dove says, standing and moving to Steve’s side.
“Yeah, man, that’s a fact,” Steve adds, turning to Dustin with a sharp bit of sass that nearly makes Dove laugh. It doesn’t feel appropriate, so her smile only flickers before fading as she shifts her attention back to the kids.
Before she can refocus, Mike pushes between her and Steve, bumping both their shoulders.
“I got it!” he announces, already marching into the kitchen.
He follows the papers scattered along the floor, the drawings branching out like roots. Or veins. Dove’s not sure which, but neither feels good.
They all trail after him. Steve and Dove walk side by side, their shoulders brushing with each step.
No, no, no, Dove thinks. Now is not the time to develop feelings for Steve Harrington, Dove. We made a deal, no more boys.
Mike drops to his knees in front of the fridge, pointing to a specific spot on what Dove has decided is definitely a map. “This is where the chief dug his hole.” He taps the spot a few times for emphasis. “This is our way into the tunnel, so…”
There is barely time to process what he is showing them before Mike is already on his feet again, the others quickly following, leaving Steve and Dove lingering behind.
Mike moves toward the largest section of the map, what looks like—
“This is like a hub.”
Yep. That’s it, Dove thinks. She is usually the one with the answers among her friends. Being behind on the facts makes her feel…stupid.
“All the tunnels feed into here. Maybe if we set this on fire—”
“What?”
“Oh yeah, that’s a no,” Steve and Dove speak at the same time.
“The Mind Flayer would call away his army,” Dustin continues, completely ignoring both protests.
“They’d all come to stop us!” Lucas adds, way too enthusiastically.
The kids start piling onto the idea, voices overlapping as they talk about circling back to the exit and El being at the gate to close it. Dove and Steve exchange a look, both wide-eyed, both very aware that this plan sounds like a fast track to getting everyone killed.
Steve tries to cut in, waving a hand, opening his mouth, but no one is listening.
“Hey! Dumbasses!” Dove yells over the noise.
That does it. All four tweens snap their attention to the two older teens.
“This is not happening,” Steve says firmly once they are finally looking at them.
Dove stands with her arms crossed, weight shifted onto one hip, brow raised in clear disbelief. Steve mirrors her stance, hands planted on his hips. Together, they look uncomfortably like parents.
“But—” Mike starts.
“No, no, no, no,” Steve and Dove cut in at the same time.
“No buts,” Dove says sharply, eyes locked on Mike, who is still crouched on the floor.
“Dove and I promised to keep you shitheads safe,” Steve adds, voice stern and unyielding. “And that’s exactly what I plan on doing, okay? We’re staying here.”
“On the bench,” Dove adds quickly, glancing at Max just in time to catch her head loll back, her eyes starting to roll.
“And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job,” Steve finishes, pointing emphatically at the ground with each word.
“What he said,” Dove adds, jerking her head toward him. “Everyone understand?”
Despite being in the same class since at least third grade, Dove and Steve do not really know each other. Dove knows Steve’s reputation. Steve knows Dove is hot, and that Tommy once said, I heard she punched James Harold and broke his nose when he tried to make a move on her, back when they were sophomores watching her play volleyball.
“This isn’t a stupid sports game!” Mike snaps back.
“She said, ‘does everyone understand?’” Steve repeats, firmer this time. He pulls the towel off his shoulder and shakes it at the group. “I need a yes.”
Dove watches his profile as he speaks, a small flutter erupting in her stomach.
Seriously? Again?
Max’s head was back and looking at the ceiling, Mike’s gaze was forward not really giving an emotion other than disappointment, Dustin and Lucas looked at the two, eyes bouncing back and forth between them.
As Dustin's chest began to rise to give a response, it held as everyone flooded towards the window when a loud engine revving sound bellowed through the dark. Max ran forward first, followed by Dove closely behind as they recognized the sound of the engine a little too well.
“Shit,” Dove muttered as the sound of rock music began to get closer. Steve looked at her with question, one brow raised. “It’s Billy.”
“He can’t know I’m here, he’ll kill me, he’ll kill us.” Max looked mostly at Lucas as she said the last part.
“Of course, of course not only is he a dick but he also hates Lucas,” Dove mutters, pinching the space between her brows again. God she could really use that cigarette right now.
“What do we do?” Max turns back to look at Dove, who has quickly become way more of an older sibling figure in the past couple of weeks then Billy has ever been.
For once in her life, Dove does not have a plan. She always has a plan, but right now her mind stalls, letting out a low, ringing whine as Billy’s last words to her echo back.
Next time I see you, you’ll pay for that.
He was embarrassed, she knew that. Billy probably never had a girl move against his advances before.
She has not seen him since she slapped him, she’s skipped homeroom everyday since. That was last week.
Fuck. She is scared.
“I’ll talk to him,” Steve says quickly.
He has been watching Dove the entire time, even as Max looks to her for reassurance. Just because Dove and Steve do not know each other well does not mean he is unaware of who she is. He has heard the stories of the blonde who has zero problem putting guys in their place.
But Steve also saw her just a few hours ago, stepping in front of the kids with nothing but a brick in her hand, throwing it at the demo-dogs to distract them without hesitation.
Seeing her freeze now, at the thought of Billy coming inside, especially after hearing the whispers about her slapping him last week, tells Steve everything he needs to know.
Billy is even more of a dick than Steve already thought.
Billy’s lights cut off as he stepped out into the brisk early November air. He takes a drag of his cigarette as he looks upon the front of the Byer’s house.
“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”
Steve takes a deep breath of annoyance as he sees him.
“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”
Billy’s eyes move to the right slightly, catching sight of Dove’s blue Chevy Cavalier. He huffs and then sheds his leather jacket quickly as Steve steps off the porch.
“What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy asks as he walks closer to Steve.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve responds as they close the distance between them. “Amigo.”
Dove knows better than to be doing what she is doing right now, but she honestly cannot help it. She and the kids are squished together on the couch beneath the front window, crouched as low as possible while still keeping the two older boys in the driveway in view.
“I think he saw my car,” Dove whispers to Max beside her.
“That’s not good,” Max whispers back. “Steve might actually die now.”
Dove does not push that comment any further. Not right now.
Dustin tries to squeeze in closer, shifting everyone along the couch. A hushed argument breaks out between the boys, the volume creeping up despite their best efforts.
Dove cuts it off by flicking Mike on the head just as he starts to argue louder.
“Shut up,” she whispers sharply, “or we’re all moving.”
Billy drags the cigarette again, never letting it leave his lips as he mutters around it. “I’m looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”
Steve’s tongue runs across the inside of his bottom lip before he responds. “Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.”
“Small? Redhead? Bit of a bitch?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry, buddy.”
Billy pulls the cigarette from his mouth now, looking at the ground, nodding and chuckling slightly. “You know, I don’t know this whole situation, Harrington, it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Steve asks with a smirk.
Billy takes a hit of the cigarette again before pulling it out and using his opposite hand to point to Dove’s car. “My thirteen year old sister goes missing all day with my girl, and then I come here, and see my girls car in the yard-” Steve’s head jerks to see Dove’s blue car sticking out like a sore thumb in the driveway- “and I find them here with you in a stranger’s house, and you’re lying to me about it.”
Steve chuckles, albeit nervously, but he’s hoping it plays off better than that. “Well, I don’t know if she’s your girl anymore…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy takes half a step closer to Steve, daring him to continue.
“I just mean, after what happened last week in homeroom, I wasn’t thinking you guys were together, but either way she’s not here. Your stepsister isn't here either.”
“Really?”
“Were you dropped too much as a child or something?” Steve’s pretty proud of himself, he doesn’t think he’s ever lied this well. “She’s not here.”
Billy chuckles, getting closer to Steve, using his cigarette to point behind him. “Then who is that?”
Steve looks back quickly to the window, seeing the five people he left back in the house try to duck very quickly.
“Shit! Did he see us?” Dustin calls as his butt slams on the ground with a thud.
Dove’s breath quickens for a second. “Yeah, he definitely did.” She motions for all of them to stand quickly and gets in front of them as she hears a thud of what she assumes is Steve’s body hit the ground and groans outside. Then the door opens and she is face to face with Billy Hargroove.
“Well, well, well,” Billy says as he looks into the room.
Dove stands in front of the four tweens, trying to look big and scary, even though she’s terrified. None of the guys she has ever had to defend herself against had threatened her back, and that is new territory for her. As tough as she likes to pretend she is, and as tough as she actually is, she is still a five-foot-six blonde with a louder bark than bite. Billy is much taller than her and, from experience, much stronger.
She only knows one of the kids well. Lucas Sinclair. She has babysat him and his little sister more times than she can count since her freshman year. Seeing the fear in his eyes, the way he grips Max’s hand, makes something in her lock into place.
She plants her feet.
She stands her ground.
She will bark loud and bite harder.
“Lucas Sinclair and Dove Jones, what a surprise.” Billy is walking into the room quickly and Dove is backing up, moving the tweens behind her like they’re her ducklings in the process.
“I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max,” Billy snapped towards his stepsister.
“Billy, go away,” Max mutters from behind Dove.
“You disobeyed me,” Billy replies immediately.
“Hey, that’s enough,” Dove says, stepping even further in front of him, reacting instinctively to his tone and trying to keep as much distance as possible between him and the kids.
Billy’s hand snaps out, fingers wrapping around Dove’s throat. Her breath catches in a sharp gasp as he squeezes. Her airway tightens instantly, panic flooding in as tears well in her eyes.
“I will get to you next.”
He tosses her aside with brutal ease. Dove hits the wall hard and collapses to the floor, gasping desperately for air.
Billy turns his attention back to Max and Lucas, now unprotected. “You know what happens when you disobey me, Max?” he asks, forcing them farther into the house.
“Billy…” Max mutters, her voice small, almost pleading.
“I break things.”
Everything happens too fast to process. Billy grabs the front of Lucas’s shirt and slams the thirteen-year-old against the wall. He spits words at him, snarling about how maybe Lucas will listen since Max will not, while Max and the other boys scream at him to stop.
Dove is still on the ground, coughing, one hand clutching her chest. Dustin rushes to her side to help her sit up. As Billy yells in Lucas’s face, warning him to stay away from Max, Lucas reacts instinctively.
“I said get off of me!” he yells, driving a swift kick into Billy’s groin.
“You are so dead, Sinclair!” Billy roars. “You’re dead!”
Something brushes past Dove’s shoulder as Billy storms forward. Musky cologne, sweat, and something sickly sweet hit her senses all at once.
“No, you are.”
Like a knight in shining armor, Steve shoves Billy back and swings. His punch lands square on Billy’s face.
“Steve!” Dove calls, pushing herself up with Dustin’s help, trying to move toward him. Before she can, Max and Dustin grab her, holding her back as they rush to Lucas. She pulls the boy into a hug, then pulls back holding his face, scanning quickly for injuries. He looks shaken, but unharmed.
Billy laughs harshly, wiping blood from his nose as he turns back to Steve. “Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh? I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about!”
They stand face to face. Steve presses two fingers into Billy’s exposed chest.
“Get out.”
It all explodes again. Billy swings. Steve dodges, stepping back and landing another punch squarely on him.
“Yes! Kick his ass, Steve!” Dustin yells. “Kill the son of a bitch!”
Billy staggers into the sink. He grabs a plate and smashes it over Steve’s head.
“Holy shit,” Dove mutters, trying to break free again. The kids stop her.
Why do they keep doing that?
Billy launches himself forward, fists slamming into Steve again and again. He drives him into the next room, gripping his jacket and growling, “No one tells me what to do.” He headbutts Steve, sending him crashing to the floor.
Steve sees double, then triple. Billy looms above him, raining down punches with clear intent to kill. Dove sees it immediately.
She needs a plan. Now.
Steve barely registers the flash of blonde above him before Dove breaks free from the kids and charges forward. She kicks Billy hard in the side, knocking him off Steve.
Billy hits the floor. Dove kicks him again, harder this time, before straddling him and swinging.
“That’s for not stopping when I asked you twice!” Punch.
“That’s for flirting with my mom!” Punch.
“And that’s for grabbing my ass in homeroom!” Punch.
“And this one’s for trying to hurt a kid and hurting Steve!”
Maybe not every punch needed commentary.
Billy’s hand snaps back around her throat. She is yanked off balance and slammed to the floor beside Steve.
“I told you you were next, princess. But since you’re so eager…”
His face is inches from hers. Dove claws at his wrist, her other hand coming up too late as he slaps her hard. Her vision fractures.
She kicks and gasps, panic surging as her strength drains away. She is getting weaker. The world darkens at the edges. Breathing slips further and further out of reach.
Max and the boys scream. They yell for Steve to get up, for Dove to get up.
Max’s eyes flick to the side. She spots a vial, medicine they had used on Will to sedate him.
Perfect.
She moves fast, grabbing the syringe and lunging forward, jabbing it into Billy’s neck.
Billy releases Dove as he staggers back. She sucks in a desperate breath, air finally flooding her lungs, before everything goes heavy and she slips into unconsciousness.
“From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?” Max says coldly, standing over Billy’s dazed body. Steve’s nail bat is raised at her side, ready to swing.
Billy mutters, “Screw you.”
“Say you understand! Say it! Say it!” Max screams, echoing the words that had been said to her by the two older teens minutes before.
“I understand.”
----
There is a smell. Dove notices it first. A sloshing sound follows, and then she realizes she is moving much faster than she remembers.
“Nancy?” a voice questions beside her. Steve’s voice.
Everything fades in and out. She tries hard to blink away the grogginess, but her eyes will not open.
“No, don’t touch it,” she hears Dustin say, presumably to Steve, because she also hears his groans. “It’s okay, you put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight. If it wasn’t for Dove, he probably would’ve killed you.”
“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice sounds distant.
“Dustin, can you make sure Dove’s, like, I don’t know, breathing?” Max calls from somewhere in front of her.
“Yeah, yeah, for sure,” Dustin responds. Dove feels a smaller hand press gently to her neck. The curly-haired boy is checking her pulse.
“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai,” Lucas tells the driver.
Wait. Who’s driving?
Steve should not be driving.
Dove definitely is not driving.
“Dustin, is she breathing?”
“Why wouldn’t she be breathing?” Steve’s voice is pained and groggy as Dove feels him sit up beside her. Then he stiffens. He sees who is driving. “Oh my God.”
Max glances back at him quickly before snapping her eyes forward again, trying to remember everything she was taught about driving. It is not much, but she believes in herself. Mostly.
“Steve, relax, she’s driven before,” Dustin tries to say calmly.
Mike does not help when he adds, “Yeah, in a parking lot!”
“That counts!” Lucas argues from the front seat.
Okay, Dove. Time to get up.
Her eyes open as she groans, pushing herself upright. She is squished between Dustin and Steve, most of her weight still resting on Steve. He keeps muttering, “Oh my God,” while Dustin starts explaining that Mike and Lucas wanted to leave them behind, but he and Max argued. They promised they would be cool. Dove would be cool about it, Max was sure. Dustin was less sure about Steve, but he could not leave him behind.
Dove sits up fully now, pain sharp in her throat as she tries to speak.
“Hey, hey, don’t try to talk,” Dustin says quickly, shushing her the same way he did Steve earlier. “Your neck doesn’t look too great externally. I bet it’s not better internally.”
“Stop the car!” Steve yells beside her.
“I told you he’d freak out,” Mike says pointedly to Dustin.
“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Max yells from the driver’s seat. She is playing it mostly cool, but inside she is freaking out.
“That’s Mount Sinai! Make a left!” Lucas points too late.
Max turns sharply, the car swerving as they take out a mailbox in the process.
Everyone screams. Dove clutches Steve’s arm.
The tweens and the two babysitters shift with the sudden turn. Dove falls into Steve, dizziness washing over her again. He reacts immediately, arm wrapping around her to keep her from slumping forward into his lap.
“Why wouldn’t she be breathing?” Steve asks, adjusting her upright. Her back is pressed against his side, his right arm firm between her shoulder blades. Her head lolls back briefly.
“Because Billy tried to strangle her when she kicked him off you,” Dustin explains, leaning forward so Steve can hear him.
“Tried? He did strangle her!” Mike argues. “We thought she wasn’t breathing when we went to move her into the car!”
“Do you have to argue with everything I say tonight?” Dustin snaps, leaning farther forward.
Steve looks down at the blonde beside him. Her hair, slightly frizzy before, is now flattened by damp night air, beginning to curl. Blood darkens the upper part of the maroon Nike crewneck she is wearing. Dried blood rests beneath her nose. A small split in the skin of her left brow is covered by a poorly placed Cabbage Patch Kid bandage.
What worries him most is the dark bruise forming on her throat.
It looks incredibly painful. His stomach churns at the thought of her struggling to breathe.
For just a second, the noise of the kids fades. It becomes distant, unimportant. All he can feel is the weight of her against him. Her breathing is uneven, and the worry tightens in his chest. He wonders if they should be going to a hospital.
Maybe it is just adrenaline. He broke up with Nancy barely two hours ago. Did they break up? Are they broken up? It does not matter. Anyone would feel this way, right? Anyone would want to make sure she is cared for, protected, never touched like that again.
Okay. Not the time, Harrington.
Max slams on the brakes as they reach their destination, the tunnels. The tweens tumble out of the car, opening the trunk of Billy’s stolen vehicle. Is it stealing if it belongs to Max’s stepbrother? That feels like semantics Steve will deal with later.
Dove pushes herself away from Steve and stumbles out of the car, trying to tell the kids to hold on, wait up.
“Oh no, guys,” Steve groans, bracing himself against the open passenger door as Mike walks past him. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
He is ignored.
“What are you deaf? Hello?! We are not going down there right now. I thought I made myself clear!”
Steve moves quickly, trying to stop them. His eyes flick to Dove as she reaches into the trunk, pulling things out and putting them on.
“Steve, you’re upset. I get it,” Dustin says, stopping him. “But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.”
Steve looks at Dustin, then at the others waiting near the tunnel entrance. He looks back at Dove. She has science goggles pulled on and a vintage scarf tied around her face. How did she get on board with the plan so fast?
“And I know you promised Nance you would keep us safe,” Dustin continues.
“It’s not just that,” Steve cuts in. “Billy almost killed Dove. We need to get her to a hospital or something. Right now.”
Dove steps toward him, one hand settling on his shoulder. With the other, she presses a mask and bandanna into his chest.
“Steve,” she says with a strained voice, meeting his eyes. “I will be okay. He’s right. There are bigger fish to fry, and if we don’t go with them, we can’t keep them safe.”
Dustin pulls Steve’s backpack from the trunk, the nail bat sticking out. “So keep us safe.”
Steve looks between Dove, Dustin, and the backpack.
Dove smiles at him. He can see it even behind the scarf.
“I figured red was your color.” She places the red bandanna and yellow goggles into his hand before moving toward the tunnels with Dustin and the rest of the kids, stumbling slightly as she goes.
Shit.
“Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.”
Dove repeats it in her head as they move through the tunnels. Flecks of what looks like snow drift through the air around her, catching in her hair and on her clothes. She is not really fine, only mostly so. Her body feels loose and unreliable, like she is slightly detached from itself. The closest thing she can compare it to is being drunk. She has only been really drunk twice before, and this feels just as bad, if not worse.
Steve leads the way, insisting he will get all the blame if any of the kids die down here. He tells himself it is a joke, but the weight of it sits heavy in his chest. Every few steps, he looks back, counting heads. One, two, three, four, five. All five. Still there. His eyes always land on Dove last, checking that she is upright, that she is moving, that she has not disappeared behind him.
He sees her stumble. Sees Max reach out and steady her.
“Jones,” he calls. “Come here.”
He does not wait for her to argue. He grabs her arm and tucks it around his, keeping her flush against his side. It is easier to control this way. Easier to know she is still standing.
“Left, right. Left, right. Left, right,” she mutters as they walk.
“You know I can hear you, right?” Steve says quietly.
She looks up at him, green eyes glassy behind the lab goggles. “I’d rather you hear it than them. Just make sure I don’t trip, Pretty Boy.”
In any other situation, Steve would have laughed. He probably would have flirted back. He registers the thought distantly, then shoves it aside. This is not the time. Not with the strange snow drifting through the air, not with the spores clinging to the walls, not with the way her weight leans just a little too heavily into his side.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Dustin yells from behind them.
Dove spins around too fast. The world tilts and smears for a second, and she presses into Steve instinctively. His arm tightens around her before he even thinks about it.
“Help!”
The scream snaps Dove into focus. She moves a step faster than Steve, dropping down in front of Dustin, who is on his hands and knees, coughing and yelling, “It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth!”
Steve is right there with her, crouching as Dustin spits and coughs, trying to clear whatever it is from his mouth. Steve’s mind races ahead, jumping to worst-case scenarios he does not want to name. Infection. Poison. Something crawling inside him, like the movie “Alien”. He forces himself to stay still, to stay useful.
Dustin looks up, his face warped by the full-face swim mask, his top lip pulled up awkwardly.
“I’m okay.”
Dove rubs her temple, that cigarette still sounds amazing.
“Very funny, man,” Steve mutters, already standing, already scanning the tunnel ahead like staying still is a mistake.
The other kids groan, muttering under their breath.
“Hang on, wait, wait,” Dustin says as he scrambles to follow.
Dove moves to catch up but her footing slips again. The dizziness rolls through her slower this time, heavier. She bumps into the tunnel wall, her shoulder catching first.
“Shit,” she winces, her chest tightening as she pulls in a shallow breath.
Steve takes three steps before something feels wrong. Too light. Too empty on his side. Panic spikes sharp and immediate. He turns back fast, rounding the corner and finding her leaning against the wall.
“Shit. Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to leave you.”
Dove looks up at him, forcing her expression steady, forcing her breathing to even out. “I’m good. I’m good.” Saying it twice almost makes it true.
Steve does not buy it for a second, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, okay, Wonder Woman. Let’s go.”
He pulls her back against him, keeping her tucked into his side as he calls ahead for the kids to stop and wait. His grip stays firm, protective, unwilling to loosen as they move forward again.
They’ve reached the hub, drenched it in gasoline and all sit at the edge of one of the tunnels.
What the actual fuck is going on?
“You guys ready?” Steve asked, looking back to the others.
“Ready” choruses from the tweens and then Steve makes eye contact with Dove.
She takes a deep breath, just to make sure she can since she feels a little better now, nodding.
“Light her up,” Dustin says from Steve’s side.
“We are in such deep shit,” Steve says to Dove, pulling a lighter out of the breast pocket of his jacket, lighting it and then throwing it into the hub.
It’s quick. Tentacles flail. Steve is yelling, “Go, go, go!” and they are sprinting back toward the tunnel entrance.
Dove’s Converse lace catches on something. Her leg is suddenly wrapped by one of the strange, root-like tentacles, and she can barely scream, her throat still aching. “Help!”
“Dove!” Max grabs her arms, using all of her thirteen-year-old strength to pull her free.
“Everyone back!” Steve yells as he rushes in, swinging his bat down hard and severing the root, giving Dove just enough room to kick it away.
He looks at her immediately, eyes scanning her for injuries. She is fine, you know, besides the bruises from being strangled and the fact her eyes are bloodshot.
A screech echoes behind them, and Steve lifts his bat again, ready.
“Dart,” Dustin breathes, naming the lizard dog. Steve’s hand grips Dustin’s shoulder as they face the creature.
Dustin steps forward.
Everyone protests at once, telling him to get back, but he shushes them. “Trust me. Please.”
Somehow, Dustin reasons with the creature, holding out a candy bar and waving everyone past.
Steve does not hesitate. He scoops Dove up, not giving her time to stumble. Her arms instinctively loop around his neck to help, and it is only then that she realizes how weak she really is.
“Steve,” she murmurs as they watch Dustin say goodbye to the lizard dog. “You can put me down. I’m okay.”
“No way, Wonder Woman,” Steve says, already distrusting her definition of okay. He commits to the decision fully when more screeching sounds echo through the tunnels.
Steve boosts her up the hole first. She scrambles through, then immediately reaches back down, grabbing Max’s hand and pulling her up with the last of her strength. One by one, the rest of the kids follow.
The monsters’ noises grow louder. Dustin and Steve are the last two still below.
“Dustin, grab my hand!” Dove yells.
Everything slows. She watches the lizard dogs charge toward them, and then, just as she thinks they are about to attack, they rush right past.
Steve scoops Dustin against his chest, bat raised in his free hand, ready to fight. None of them stop. They have a new mission.
“Eleven,” Mike whispers.
Dove pushes past the others, reaching down again. “Come on, let’s go!”
Dustin grabs her hand as Steve hoists him up, then follows quickly behind. Once both boys are through, the group scrambles back, dusting themselves off as headlights flood the clearing.
Billy’s car.
The light is so bright they have to shield their eyes.
And then, just like that, it is over.
Steve exhales in relief too soon, because Dove collapses beside him, barely giving him time to catch her.
-----
Steve returns all the kids to the Byers’ house first, then switches Billy’s car out for Dove’s and drives her to his place. Max begs to come with them, but Steve shuts it down when he notices Billy is no longer lying on the living room floor. He tells Max it is probably best for her to stay the night with the boys and let her stepbrother cool off. The thought of Billy waking up and coming after the kids or Dove makes Steve’s stomach twist. He is afraid he would have to step in again, and frankly, Steve cannot take another beating from him.
He will win a fight one day. He swears it.
Dove regains consciousness a few times after collapsing at the pumpkin patch. She keeps slipping in and out, brushing it off as exhaustion. Steve, on the other hand, is fairly convinced she might be dying. She somehow manages to talk him out of taking her to the hospital, but he refuses to bring her back to her house.
So they compromise on his.
It is big and incredibly empty. His parents being gone on business trips more and more as he has gotten older has left the manor almost entirely to him.
Dove is not used to this kind of quiet. Her house is small and always alive. Her mom and grandma bickering over nothing, her older sister barging in with her oldest and dropping him off without warning, music playing, a tv going, something always happening. It never feels like she gets a moment of peace.
But the silence in Steve’s house presses in, making her feel something uncomfortably close to sadness.
“It’s so quiet,” she whispers. She doesn’t need to, but the stillness makes her feel like she should.
Steve looks at her plainly. “Yeah. It’s like that all the time here. My parents are gone most days out of the year since I was, like, fifteen.”
Dove frowns. “That must suck.”
Steve shrugs. “Meh. Not really. I have… well, had people over a lot. Just not as much lately.”
His eyes drift away from the blonde as he turns toward the kitchen.
She follows a few steps behind, her footsteps soft, her head still foggy as she tries to keep herself steady.
He’s in his fridge looking for something to eat. “Gross, gross, gross, ohh- oh wait nevermind that’s old.”
Dove’s eyes trail around the room. It is so different from her family’s. Everything looks like it belongs in a magazine, like no one actually lives here. One, maybe two family photos; Steve’s mom, his dad, and himself. A fridge empty of drawings or report cards.
Her heart aches for the boy reaching into the cabinets, pulling out a loaf of bread.
After everything they just went through, everything they experienced today, he had been fully prepared to come back here alone. Dove’s mind cannot quite comprehend it.
What she knows about Steve Harrington mostly comes from reputation, from things she has overheard Nancy say in passing during Chemistry class. He was ‘the king’. Rich parents, perfect hair, beautiful girlfriend, and therefore he had to be a douche. She was convinced of it. She never really saw him do anything outright douchey herself, but she heard about him breaking Jonathan Byer’s camera last year. And then just watched as his friends spray painted Nancy “The Slut” Wheeler on The Hawk marquee. Well, maybe old friends now, since he says he does not have people over anymore.
And yet, he seems normal. Pleasantly so. Funny, too. Maybe even a little heroic in a way Dove almost resents him for because it makes her want to like him more.
She has always been the kind of girl who jumps into action first. Think fast. Devise a plan. Shoot first, ask questions later. She never once questioned standing up for her best friend Nicole, or for her older sister and brother. She never once questioned standing up for herself, especially when her siblings were so much older than her that they were never around to do it instead.
So when Steve Harrington shows so much care and concern, throwing himself into danger and protecting everyone and her while barely knowing her, she finds herself way more intrigued by him than she was ever before.
Every guy she had been with, talked to, casually went out with or even tried to go farther with, all ended up being the same. They wanted her as a trophy on their shelf. Dove Jones was undeniably attractive, she had been since puberty. Curly blonde hair, dark eyebrows, dazzling green eyes and a witty personality.
Things never got farther than a first date with most guys when they just tried to get their hands in her pants. Really, there’s only ever been two guys to get that farther than that with her but that’s not important. What’s important is Steve Harrington hasn’t ever tried to make a move on her, she’s now realizing and he’s been the playboy of Hawkins since freshman year.
It’s….interesting. So, she begins to think, maybe all guys aren’t the same, maybe not even Steve Harrington.
“Grilled cheese?”
His question pulled her from where she was staring at the floor. “Hm?”
“Do you want a grilled cheese?”
It’s almost laughable, actually, it is laughable, because Dove starts giggling. The giggles spill out of her before she can stop them, bubbling up into full-on laughter until she’s clutching her stomach, doubling over like it physically hurts to keep it in.
Steve just stares at her, wide-eyed. Had he said something funny? He runs through the last few seconds in his head, coming up empty. For a brief, very sincere moment, he wonders if he should just take her to the hospital. Hallucinations feel like a possibility after being strangled.
She straightens slowly, dragging in a breath, wiping at the tear that’s escaped beneath her eye. When she looks at him and catches his completely blank expression, she lets out a shaky laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, still breathless. “It’s just…what the fuck just happened?”
That’s… fair, Steve thinks. A very fair question. He turns it over in his mind, the whole day replaying itself all at once, where they are now, and then it hits him.
He laughs.
Not just a chuckle, but real laughter, uncontrollable and sudden, until they’re both standing there laughing hysterically, the absurdity of it all crashing down at the same time.
When they finally calm down, both of them end up leaning back against the counter, eyes cast toward the floor. Steve runs a hand through his hair and glances over at Dove. She is still clutching her stomach, but her laughter has faded. The smile she had moments ago has slipped into a frown, and he notices tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” It’s a stupid question. Steve knows it the moment it leaves his mouth.
Dove looks up at him, blinks once, and a tear spills down her cheek. “I don’t think I have ever been more scared than when I heard Billy’s car pull up to that house.”
Her honesty catches Steve off guard. He turns back to the stove, focusing on the task in front of him, buttering the bread and setting it into the pan.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve had a worse night, to be honest.”
Dove takes a slow breath, fighting the urge to cry.
Why does she want to cry? She never cries.
Her head tips back slightly as she does. Steve sneaks another glance at her. The light from the pool deck spills in behind her, casting a soft glow around her silhouette. Her blonde hair catches it, forming the same halo-like brightness he remembers from earlier, from the moment she kicked Billy off of him.
“Thanks for, uh… risking your life for me.” Steve flips the sandwiches in the pan, keeping his eyes there as he speaks. “I probably would’ve been in critical condition if it wasn’t for you, so…”
Dove looks over at him then. He looks so… domestic, soft, not like the asshole girls on the volleyball team whispered about. He’s just standing there at the stove, focused on flipping grilled cheese. Handsome. That is the word that comes to mind as well, even if she is not quite ready to sit with it.
Dove swallows, then lets out a small, breathy laugh that doesn’t quite land.
“Yeah,” she says quietly, the cuts on her hands becoming very interesting all of the sudden.
“Well, you’re welcome, don’t mention it.” She pauses, then adds, softer, “You would’ve done the same.”
Steve shrugs, still focused on the pan. “Maybe.”
She tilts her head, watching him for a moment. “What, you would’ve let Billy beat the shit out of me? Wow, Steve. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
“What? No! That’s not what I meant—” He looks up from what he’s doing, catches the smirk on her face, and stops short. “That’s mean.”
She giggles. “I know, Pretty Boy.” There’s a beat before she speaks again. “But seriously, you didn’t hesitate to step in, that’s pretty cool of you. Heroic, even.”
That gets him. He glances at her, surprised, then looks away again, his cheeks warming. “I mean… I hesitated a little. Internally. There was definitely a moment where I thought, ‘This is it. This is how you die.’”
Dove snorts, pressing her lips together like she’s trying not to smile. “Very comforting.”
“I’m just saying,” he continues, flipping one of the sandwiches, “I wasn’t exactly a hero. I mean, look at my face.”
She considers that, unable to ignore the black eye and split lip. “Well, you don’t need to win every fight to be a hero.”
Steve stills for half a second, then clears his throat.
Dove turns her head at the sound. “What?”
He slides a grilled cheese onto a plate and turns, handing it to her. She takes it with both hands, pausing as she really looks at him. The cut on his lip has started bleeding again.
“You’re bleeding,” she says, lifting one hand from the plate and touching her own lip, mirroring where she sees the blood on him.
Steve reaches up, fingers brushing his mouth, pulling them back to inspect the blood.
Dove sets her plate down quickly and grabs a towel from the stove door. Without thinking twice, she steps closer and dabs gently at his lip. She freezes once she’s done, realizing how close they are. Their eyes meet. His are the warmest shade of brown, almost honey-like when the light hits them.
“Probably should ice your eye too,” she says, breaking the silence as she turns back to her plate on the island.
Steve stares at her for a second, completely unfocused, before the smell of his grilled cheese snaps him back. He turns to the stove just in time to save it, trying to shake the buzzy feeling of her being so close to him.
What’s wrong with you, Harrington? You have a girlfriend…well, at least I think I still have a girlfriend.
“How do you feel?” he asks, plating his sandwich, suddenly remembering Dove is actually in worse condition than him.
Dove takes a bite of her grilled cheese. It’s good. Not incredible, but good. “Fine.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that.”
“And why’s that?” she asks around a mouthful.
“Because the kids said you were strangled, I had to hold you up in those tunnels…” he trails off as his stomach twists when he looks back at her, eyes landing on where her throat has turned a harsh shade of blue and purple. “And you look like someone tried to kill you.”
His concern is sweet. Really sweet. But she’s not worried. “It’s okay.”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You literally almost died, so stop saying you’re okay.”
“But I am okay,” Dove argues, gesturing to herself. She looks rough. Bloodstains on her burgundy crewneck, dirt on her jeans, her Converse ruined. But she’s still standing.
“You collapsed an hour and a half ago.”
“No, that was—” She checks the clock, expecting it to be later, then pauses. “Huh.”
“Dove,” Steve says, stepping closer. “I seriously think we should take you to the hospital.”
“No.” She meets his eyes, glossy and pleading. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
She takes another bite of her sandwich, avoiding his gaze.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he asks with a huff.
“Doing what?”
“Changing the subject. You were strangled and you’re refusing help when you clearly need it—”
“I don’t need it,” she cuts in, squaring up to him but keeping space. “I promise you I will be okay, I’m a big girl who can fight her own battles. And anyway, why did you bring me here? Won’t your girlfriend be wondering why you brought another girl home?”
She knows she’s deflecting. Changing the subject again to try not to think about her situation, if she doesn’t think about it, then it can’t hurt her.
Steve closes his eyes tightly and exhales through his nose. “Not my girlfriend anymore.”
“What?”
“I said she’s not my girlfriend anymore. Nance, she—we’re—I don’t think we’re together anymore.”
His voice softens at the end. Dove softens with it.
“I’m sorry,” she says honestly. “Think… or know?”
Steve laughs weakly. “Know, at least I think. I’m pretty sure she’s into Jonathan. She just doesn’t lov-like me the way I liked her.”
The word liked catches her attention, or more so the way he stopped himself from saying love. She frowns slightly and pushes herself off the island, stepping beside him at the counter. Their shoulders brush.
“That really sucks,” she says quietly.
“Thanks,” he mutters, offering a small smile.
Dove takes a deep breath and she feels her eyes get heavy again, this time not from being strangled, but actual exhaustion. She doesn’t think about it. She just lets her head tip to the side until it rests against his bicep.
Steve goes still.
For a second, she wonders if she should pull away and apologize, but he exhales, slow, and the tension in his arm eases. He doesn’t move her.
The warmth through the fabric of his shirt is grounding in a way that makes her settle . He smells like sweat and dirt but there’s a musky sandalwood smell underneath it that lingers. Something about it, the warmth, the smell, the exhaustion allows her to feel safe, like she can allow herself to let her part of the situation settle into her. Let her brain actually register with the fact she was almost murdered by Billy tonight. Her eyes water again but she doesn’t let the tears fall. Her breathing starts to slow, matching his without her trying to.
“You losing consciousness on me again?” he asks quietly.
“No,” she smiles ever so slightly, laughing at something she might only find funny. “I think I’m just tired.”
“Yeah well, fighting demo-dogs or whatever, and protecting four thirteen year old little shits will do that to ya,” he jokes again making her giggle and groan slightly as her head starts to hurt again at the thought of the weird creatures again.
“Lizard dogs,” she says with a giggle.
“Don’t say that in front of Dustin, it might offend him.”
They both giggle, definitely loopy from exhaustion. It’s nice, her warmth pressed against him, the newness of the situation. There’s no weight or expectation. It feels like it might be the only good thing out of this.
“I don’t like being scared, and don’t usually talk about it,” Dove finds herself admitting softly, her eyes closed, head still lying on the side of Steve’s arm. “I don’t admit any of this to people normally so don’t think you're special, pretty boy.”
Steve laughs at her slightly slurred words. “Okay, you got it, Wonder Women.”
She’s pleasantly surprised by his response, expecting him to pry more. She smiles softly, letting a feeling she’s never truly experienced before flutter in her chest brightly.
“I think this might be the strangest way I have ever met someone,” Dove keeps the admissions rolling.
“You say this like we haven’t known each other since the third grade,” Steve responds looking down at her again.
She looks up at him, his eyes are catching the light again, making them that very pretty shade of honey she’s beginning to adore. “Yeah, but like, we haven't really ever spoken.”
Steve thinks on that for a second before realizing she's completely right. “I guess so.”
“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” she says truthfully, moving her gaze away from him and closing her eyes again.
“In a good way or bad way?”
“Hmm, both,” she giggles softly and smiles as he does the same, shaking her slightly against his arm.
The quiet stretches, not uncomfortably, just there. Steve notices how Dove’s breathing begins to even out.
“Alright Wonder Women, let’s get you to bed so maybe your brain will properly heal.”
Dove doesn’t argue as Steve begins to guide her up the stairs and into his room.
“Take me to dinner first at least,” Dove slurs with a loopy smile.
Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes as he pulls a shirt and some old sweatpants out of his drawer before walking over and handing it to her. “Very funny, bathrooms over there, I’ll be asleep just across the hall in my parents room.”
Dove nods, taking the clothes from him and moving into his bathroom. She doesn’t have the brain power to observe the room, just changes quickly, splashes some water to get the blood off her face and walks back into Steve’s room.
He hasn’t left yet, sitting on the corner of his bed.
“You okay?” She asks as she sits next to him on the bed.
“Yes, but also not really,” he responds truthfully.
She takes his answer for what it is and doesn’t press further, laying her head on his shoulder for a second. “Thank you,” she murmurs quietly.
He doesn’t respond verbally, just leans his head against hers for a second before standing up and grabbing his pajamas off his dresser and goes to leave the room.
“Steve,” she stops him just as he’s about to close the door. He looks at her softly, his face still bloody and beaten. His hair doesn’t fall in its perfect way it normally does. “I’m still scared.”
Steve nods, understanding what she means, stepping back into the room. “It’s okay, the demo-dogs are dead, Eleven closed the gate.”
“Not of them,” she admits sheepishly. Her hand reaches up and grazes over the growing bruise, swallowing thickly and now that she lets the situation settle into her, and now she can’t stop replaying it.
The feeling of Billy’s hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing and him going dead eyed, like he wanted her dead on the spot, like the act meant nothing to him. The memory playing over and over again in her head.
Steve watches her and his stomach twists again, a familiar feeling but he’s unsure of what from. Her hand is slightly shaking as it ghosts over the bruise. She still has that stupid cabbage patch band aid on her forehead.
He can’t just leave her here by herself. But Nancy…he’s feeling a multitude of complicated feelings as he thinks about Nancy. Finding her with Jonathan that night on the railroad tracks, the fight outside the gym, Tina’s Halloween party.
“I can stay,” Steve offers, fingers twitching at his side. He knows it’s not necessarily the right thing to do since he might still be dating someone else but…he can’t leave her.
Dove nods slowly, not wanting the tears to break from her eyes and is afraid they will if she speaks.
Steve moves into the bathroom, changing quickly before coming back to sit on the edge of the bed. He hesitates, leaving calculated space, and lies down beside her.
Dove stares at the ceiling, eyes heavy but open. The room is quiet except for the sound of his breathing, steady and close enough to count. There’s a charge in the air between them that she doesn’t want to address.
She doesn’t move. Neither does he.
“Goodnight, pretty boy,” she murmurs, mostly to fill the silence.
Steve doesn’t answer right away.
When he does, his voice is low. “Sleep tight, Wonder Woman.”
Dove closes her eyes, but her body doesn’t relax. The space between them stays.