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Steve has never been concerned over the state of his house or how he's left it in the past, so it's really no surprise that he cares even less when his folks are out of town.
Something's clearly thrown a wrench in his routine today though, when he goes out of his way to make sure that everything is spotless.
He's picking up trash, scrubbing the floors. Even vacuums the living room from top to bottom like he's expecting some big shot to come over and appraise the house.
(All this effort and for what? He's aware that it's just Nancy and Jonathan coming over. Knows for a fact that they're not going to give him shit if the house is a mess. Still, the thought nags at Steve that this is Different somehow. Way different.)
Steve's so caught up in that, he nearly misses the sound of Jonathan's Ford coming up the driveway. Double checking it's them, he walks towards the nearest window and pulls up the blinds. Looks down from the upper floor and sees someone step out of a car.
It's Jonathan, alright. Can't mistake the messy dark hair as he goes over to Nancy's side to open her door.
The second thing Steve notices, is that it's starting to rain like a bitch out there, so it doesn't take them long to look washed out.
Neither of them really seem to care-- until it starts pouring even harder.
With that in mind Steve runs downstairs.
---
They rush to reach his doorstep and knock, with Nancy burrowing further into Jonathan's side so she stays out of the water's reach.
When a full minute passes-- longer than they're used to waiting-- they huddle closer.
They're about to ring the doorbell just as Steve finally makes his appearance.
They seem a little peeved after being left out in the cold, but it doesn't seem to faze him much. So with a smile, Steve moves out of the way and holds the door open for them.
They make their way inside and immediately feel sluggish and warm, so all's forgiven.
"Nance," Jonathan sighs, "I'm startin' to think we should just live here."
She nods, "Yeah. Why'd we leave last time?"
You're tellin' me, Steve thinks. "By all means," he teases, "Make yourselves at home."
They take it to heart, walking their way towards the loveseat in the next room as they plop their stuff down onto the cushions.
Briefly, they notice that the house looks the same as it always does when they come over: lifeless and dull. (Not to mention everything's extremely tacky, and buried under hundreds of dollars worth of junk.) In addition, there's a giant chandelier set up in the kitchen that's falling off from it's hinges, ready to skewer whoever's caught under it.
Best that money could buy, Steve snarks, remembering the way his father had mentioned it back when he cared.
It was a huge waste of money is what it was, Steve thought at the time, An accident waiting to happen. (Not that his mother would ever allow accidents in the house.)
The fact that Steve shares blood with them is a burden in and of itself, and he's sure his parents feel the same way.
(But that's neither here nor there.)
Besides, the teens aren't in any hurry to waste their lives on people who don't matter anymore.
That sure isn't why Jonathan and Nancy came over to visit.
If they're being honest, half the reason they keep stopping by is because they both miss Steve a lot. And if they took the time to explain just how much, they'd just be standing there all day sweating bullets while they make sad attempts to tell him outright.
(There was a plan, at one point. A joint effort put into place so they could psych each other up. Enough to say something. Anything. But by the time they'd be face to face with Steve, the plan always seemed to go to shit-- and they'd wind up bailing anyway.)
Even thinking that, they know it's pointless if they gave up now. Couldn't be any worse than what they have to deal with on the regular.
All of that in mind, the three of them walk into the kitchen. Stealing glances here and there, simmering in equal frustration as they look for snacks and a place to sit.
Instead of being greeted with a fruit bowl or something-- they all turn and see Steve's bat, sticking out from the sink like a sore thumb as they keep staring at it.
Shit, Steve groans, Forgot to take it out--
Even more noticeably, the handle's still stained and covered in drippy ichor, which only manages to further nauseate them.
It's clear that no one wants to call attention to it, all it does is make their heads spin.
They know where the blood's from. It's still fresh and at the forefront of their minds, courtesy of their latest dip in the forest.
As traumatizing as the experience is for them -- they would still prefer going toe to toe with a pack of Demogorgons: jagged teeth and all, if it meant they wouldn't have to deal with their feelings for a moment.
------------------------
Speaking of complete disasters, last year had definitely been one. Starting with government plans that wound up threatening the world, new monsters-- which led to a lot more blood-- and a whole bunch of other things that were thrown into the mix. (Salt's further rubbed in the teens wounds when they remember another factor that was just as brutal: Distance. Two-Thousand miles worth, and after the fall of Starcourt... it was just another thing to add to an already shitty list.)
Despite it all... everything seemed to be okay now. The gate's been sealed shut (again), and it looks like it might actually stick this time.
So the three of them make it a point to enjoy eachother's company whenever they can, even when they're comfortable in a silence they don't seem compelled to fill.
For Steve-- it doesn't quite work out that way. The reminders and the stress are overwhelming, and even among friends he feels like he's left floundering in the deep-end, thinking about what they've all gone through. And he must've sighed somewhere in the middle of that, because Jonathan and Nancy both share a glance before checking on him.
"Hey, Steve," Nancy tries first,
"You doin' okay?" Jonathan asks as he takes a step closer.
Steve almost feels cornered as a result and yet... not really. He's not on edge or anything. There's no reason for him to be defensive right now, and if it weren't for the fact that it was them, he probably would have kept his guard up. But he knows he's in good company, so there's nothing to worry about.
"Yeah. Just... thinkin'."
Neither of them seem to want to leave it at that, so Nancy presses on. "About?"
"...If I said nothing and everything, would that even make sense?" Steve laughs, but it's a nervous sound. Still not as used to being vulnerable around them as he'd like.
"Definitely," Jonathan offers. Something in his eyes telling Steve that he knows the feeling all too well, and he probably does. It was Jonathan's family out of the bunch that got roped into this mess in the first place. Hell, the fact that they made it out even remotely okay is... something, Steve thinks. He wouldn't blame him if he lost it one of these days because of it. (It's a notion Nancy shares, even if she doesn't say it outloud.)
Nancy looks like she wants to say more. Maybe prod a little further-- but instead she motions towards Steve. Thinks about holding him as tight as she can so he can let everything out. Just like she used to.
But she gives it another thought and stops as she changes her mind. (Admittedly it's still sore for the both of them; her getting close again.)
Jonathan doesn't seem to hold the same reservations, so he pulls closer and grips Steve's shoulder.
"Well if you uh. Need to tell someone, we're here, yeah?" Jonathan smiles. Looking worried still, but it's more than Steve expected, so he'll take it.
"Uh," Steve stumbles, "Sounds good. Thanks guys," and he hopes his own smile's convincing enough.
He wagers it's not, judging from the looks on their faces-- but they take the hint. With Nancy looking hesitant as she turns on the balls of her feet, and Jonathan following suit as he fidgets with the straps on his backpack. Which has Steve noticing just how full it is for the first time since they arrived.
"What do you even have in there man. Rocks?"
Jonathan laughs, turning back. "And what if I did? Would you try and stop me--"
"Maybe," Steve says, and yeah it's a joke-- but in hindsight it would explain a lot. Jonathan was way stronger than he looked, and could throw a mean right hook when he wanted to. Only made sense he carried weights on him, he figures.
Nancy scoffs. "Might have to rethink that if you're going to try and take his records," she shrugs, "You might lose a hand over it."
"Oh yeah?" Steve crosses his arms, "Him and what army?"
"Me," she states simply, "If you touch my copy of Zenyatta Mondatta."
Steve's not fazed. "What, you didn't bring your copy of Autoamerican this time?"
Clearly he's done Nancy a great disservice by dissing Blondie, from the glare she gives him. So she huffs and moves to unzip her bag, choosing to make a whole display of it by grabbing said album and shoving it in his face. "Course I did."
"Right," he tsks, "Should've known."
"Whatever," she laughs, "You're just jealous we've got taste."
"Yeah, that's it."
"Dude," Jonathan warns, kidding but still veering on the side of caution for him as Nancy fails to hide her pride.
Steve doesn't heed it, so he shrugs, "What? It keeps things interesting."
"Sure does Steve," Nancy says, managing to sound affectionate and unimpressed, "Sure does."
--
Bumps in the road aside, the rest of the evening goes off without a hitch. (Baring in mind they're too busy deciding what they should eat for dinner.) Steve's got a bunch of ideas, and Jonathan and Nancy sit at the table content to let him pick whatever.
Problem is-- he can't seem to make up his mind.
"I could heat up some pizza?" Steve offers after digging through his freezer and finding zilch.
"Oh yeah?" Nancy grins, snatching up a pen and choosing Jonathan's arm as her canvas. Uses most of her energy to focus on the lines she makes from one freckle to the next, "I don't know Steve. You nearly burnt the house down last time,"
"Hey! That wasn't completely my fault. It takes two, Nance."
"Hmmm," she taps her chin, "Don't know what you're talking about. Refresh my memory."
"Springtime, '84?" It's clear that none of that rings a bell when she doesn't bother to look up. "Right after you aced your Biology Exam--"
The memory does wash over her then, and Nancy's left with no rebuttal. "...That was different."
"Was it?"
"Alright you two, come on," Jonathan laughs, "I'm starving. And you're not helping being all--" Cute. He's about to say cute, but he catches himself in time: "Argumentative."
Nancy and Steve flush, but it's the latter that keeps it going.
"And here I thought it added to the appetite. Now come on: pick something!"
"Steve," Jonathan doesn't mean to sound annoyed, but he's hungry, and that tanks any patience he's got. "Everything you make turns out good. Why does it matter?"
"I gotta be a good host!" Steve insists, pulling some store-bought dough from the cooler, "Can't just let you guys leave on an empty-- Wait. You actually like my cooking, Byers?" he pretends to get a little choked up, "I'm flattered, really... Can I get that in writing?"
Jonathan rolls his eyes and tells him to "Fuck off," while flicking a crumpled piece of paper at him. It makes Nancy laugh-- and that winds up ruining up her masterpiece. (A field of daisies that turns out way messier than she intended.)
"Thanks a lot you guys. Now I have to use the other arm," she groans, moving to Jonathan's left so she can scribble on the other side and continues on like nothing happened.
Steve just smiles and dives back into the fridge.
Goes for more idle chit-chat as he asks over his shoulder, "Nance Isn't that ink like, toxic and shit?" Normally whenever he sees people drawing on stuff that isn't paper, it's always Robin writing something on her shoes. Not someone taking a sharpie to their skin.
Maybe he's just biased. Last time he got a little artistic and drew like that on himself, his parents stopped it real quick. (They could say all they wanted that it was for his safety, but he knew better that it had nothing to do with it.) On the flipside, Steve also considered that Jonathan's mom probably didn't care. Will was a pretty artistic kid right? So it couldn't be that big of a deal, Steve figured.
Nancy snorts, "No mom," and continues where she left off.
(She does want to look into it later, though.) "So, how's work been?"
Steve's drawn-out sigh says it all.
"Is that lady still giving you shit? She's three months late on her returns!"
"Yeah, well, Bonnie thinks she deserves an extension on her copy of Alien, so there's not much I can do."
"As much as I think that store is bleeding people dry," Jonathan says pointedly, "I still think she lost the VHS and is just hoping you guys give up." He's tempted to keep going and be more animated about it, but he wants to keep still for Nancy's sketch more.
"You know that's what Robin said too... Too bad she doesn't know Keith. He'll pick a fight over anything if he's in a mood."
"So why doesn't he?"
"Thinks the daughter's cute," Steve shrugs, "So he doesn't want her banned from the store to."
"Ugh, figures," Nancy says, disgusted, "Keith wouldn't know what's cute if it went and bit him in the ass." (It takes a lot for Jonathan not to laugh there, so he breathes in through his nose.)
Steve grins, setting out the ingredients as he sees fit, "You might be onto something Nancy. What do you think Keith's type is, anyway?"
Her answer comes way too quick with, "A dirty mop." and she does take pity on Jonathan when he starts to shake under her hand. "Ok you can move if you want," she teases.
Jonathan can't help but interject with a glint in his eyes, "Little cruel to the mop, don't you think?"
"I don't think so," she counters.
"Maybe to Mr. Clean." Steve adds, moving over to grab the pan he left in the oven, "That's his friend you're raggin' on, and you're slandering him like this?"
The couple across him laughs, but it's Jonathan who takes the joke further as he turns his chair towards Steve. "Ya know now that you mention it... I just don't see what the big deal is."
"About what?"
"Mr. Clean," Jonathan clarifies. "I mean he's just a germophobe with a missing earring. What else is there--"
"What, you don't like the bald look?"
Jonathan shakes his head and shrugs, "Nah. More into longer hair honestly. Plus he's not a brunette, so."
Steve grins at first, thinking that Jonathan's clearly referring to Nancy-- but the realization strikes him just as quick... that Nancy's had shorter hair for a while now, and for about as long as the two of them have known each other--
The oven door slips from Steve's grip and slams shut with a bang. A jolt runs through him, realizing that there's a chance that Jonathan could be talking about him too. It's slim, but it's there.
He checks to make sure that the glass didn't shatter under him, and then he slowly turns towards Jonathan, with a big smile that he can't quite suppress.
Now caught in the middle, Nancy stops her pen mid-stroke as her eyes dart between them and take it all in.
Meanwhile sweat starts to pool over Jonathan's forehead, as the implications of what he said only just hits him.
The air around him feels a lot more dense now. It's heavy, it's suffocating... and yet it feels somehow magnetic because of it. Like he's laying his hands on a live wire. If he sticks around another minute, he's sure he'll pass out.
Shame as it is the energy's changed altogether, and Jonathan can't handle it.
"I'll um, be right back." and he makes his exit. Ignoring Nancy's "Hey!" as he runs out of the room.
----
Seconds later, Steve and Nancy manage to shake out of their stupor.
"What's the matter with him?"
Nancy's still in shock, but she recovers quick enough. "I think my mom's cooking earlier didn't agree with him."
It's a reasonable enough explanation, so Steve nods almost sagely and goes back to what he was doing.
"So... just for arguments sake," he's now dusting whatever he's put together in nearly a pound of parmesan as he talks, "What's your type, Wheeler?"
Even out of nowhere as it is, it makes Nancy grin, and her cheeks turn red as she writes in the margins of an old post-it note. "Figured you had some idea by now."
"Oh psh, come on, it's been some time. Sure there was a little room for error back then, right? Isn't that what they say--" He can't help but think that the error might've been him-- back when he was bullshit. Was he still bullshit? He'd definitely take it into consideration.
It wounds Nancy hearing it though, so she's soft as she interrupts, "Who said there was an error? Maybe it just... needs to be reworked."
Whatever he expected her to say, it wasn't that. "Reworked? Nancy, you say that like nothing's changed."
Nothing has, she wants to shoot back. Wants to rip the rest of her words right out of her chest, but Nancy refuses to start up a conversation with him about this until Jonathan's back.
If he comes back, she frets.
"I," Instead she shrugs, deciding to deflect while still being honest, "Just have good taste. Didn't I say before?" It does crack a small smile out of Steve, so it's a win to her.
"You did," he agrees, chopping up more toppings, "You do."
--
A few more minutes pass, and they're back to talking just like old times. Laughing over something dumb they saw on TV as the pizza cooks, all of which Nancy appreciates more than she can say. It gives her a sense of normalcy. Something to distract her so she can get out of her own head and think about something else, so she tries. Ends up thinking about Jonathan again, and the way that he bolted out of the room like it was an emergency. Considers the fact that it Kind of was, and she lets that thought sort of mull around.
She really hopes that she's right, and that maybe Jonathan's out trying to relax to.
--
When another ten, fifteen minutes go by, Nancy can't help but worry about him again. And even when Steve tells her that Jonathan's probably fine-- not sounding entirely convinced himself-- it somehow makes her even more worried.
"I'm just gonna go check on him." Nancy says abruptly, "See if he's okay."
"Be safe," Steve says, looking over at her as he checks the clock. "And if you guys aren't back in thirty--"
"Call Hopper, yeah," she finishes for him. Nodding as she salutes and heads up the stairs.
"Wait!," Steve calls as she runs off, picking his weapon of choice up out of the sink as he rushes towards the steps and shouts, "Did you want my bat?"
--
The screechy creak of the floorboard under her feet really makes Nancy wish she took Steve up on his offer.
The bat's part hers anyway. She has a right to it just as much as they do--
"Jonathan?" Nancy calls while running up the stairs, nearly tripping the fifth step in her haste. "Where are you?"
In hindsight, it's been a hot minute since Nancy's gone up here. Since she's had a good reason to be up here. And yeah, she knows full and well she doesn't have time to think about it, but her brain doesn't send the message along and decides to chock her head full of memories instead, as it leaves her face feeling warm.
Huh, Nancy thinks, That's... huh. Focus. Focus.
Nothing's really visible up there aside from some light peeking through down the hall, so she follows that.
Hears a loud crash on the way there.
Finds a closed door. And caution be damned-- she knocks on it and waits a minute.
Manages to catch something that sounds like Jonathan going, "Shit. Uh, just a sec!" from the other side, sounding way more out of it than he did before he went up here, which does nothing to set Nancy at ease.
She thinks through her options. Realizes that she's mentally exhausted, and just wants this day to be over. So she only waits another second before barging in--
Right into a room full of smoke. "Hey, Steve's worried about you and the pizza's almost rea-- JESUS Jonathan!"
Least she thinks it's him. Had to be if the mop of hair and the sound of a record scratching over his favorite song was anything to go off of.
Caught off guard himself, Jonathan coughs and ends up dropping his still lit roll onto his chest. It burns a hole through his shirt, but he doesn't even flinch as he decides to snatch it up real quick.
"Wow... you decided to light up without me? I'm hurt," she teased, now leaning her shoulder against the doorframe.
It hadn't been that long since the Byers returned to Hawkins, and in that time Nancy decided she'd follow in her boyfriend's steps and try something other than yoga to relax. Weed being top of the list. (And at least Joyce wouldn't chew them out over some smoke.)
"What? No, course not," Jonathan pats a hand over the singed fabric and winces when he burns it on the ash.
"What are you doing up here, anyway?"
"Uh," he struggles a fair bit, slurring his words. "I don't know, I panicked! So I ran up here as quick as I could, and, yeah."
"Soooo, you decided getting baked was the answer--"
"What was I supposed to do? Pour my heart out in his kitchen? Rat us both out?" For some reason that last part bites the most. None of that sounded appealing to her. Not with how vulnerable they still were, and that seems to reach Jonathan over the fog quicker than anything as he reminds himself that they're both stuck in the same boat.
So his tone turns more hush, and he feels his eyes turning wet at the corners, "Sorry. I'm...sorry. I dunno about you Nancy," he rubs his arm, "But I'm losing my mind over this."
"I know," she says, soft and entirely sympathetic towards his distress. "You think I'm not freaking out to?"
In fact her own nerves have her pacing back and forth. "...You don't think he saw through us back there--"
"Shit." Even panicked as they are, Jonathan takes another hit. Holds it in his lungs until his eyes start to water and he coughs out, handing whatever's left towards Nancy.
She moves to take it, but stops halfway. "You really think that's gonna solve our problems right now? Come on Jonathan!--"
"Nancy I could feel your fucking leg shaking back there under the table! If you ask me, I think you need this more than I do."
She bites her lip, and knows he has her caught hook, line.
What a mess we are, she muses, Can't even string three words together to tell Steve how we feel.
"Come on, just a hit, alright? It's like you said. If he smells it on us--"
Nancy giggles at that like she's already joined in by proxy. "Yeah?"
Jonathan smiles despite himself. "If he smells desperation on us we're screwed, alright? So we need to take the edge off."
Nancy decides he's right and goes further into the room, but keeps her gaze down at her shoes. Unsure even when she eventually sits down next to him and chooses her next words carefully.
"I don't know Jonathan. What if it makes us too loose and we say something stupid?"
He does take a moment to consider that.
"...Then at least we'll know, right?" That's not the reassurance she's looking for, so she nudges him in the ribs.
"Ow!"
"Sorry," she winces seeing him brush his hand over it, so she moves to run hers over his back. "Guess one of us can joke about this."
"We'll be fine, Nance," he leans and melts into her side. "Hell-- maybe the smoke will get some ideas flowin'. Wouldn't hurt right?" he tries to pass her the blunt as a peace offering again. Meets her eyes and hopes she'll meet him halfway.
Her eyes soften, and she takes it from his hand and brings it up to her lips. "Yeah, wouldn't hurt."
---
Despite all of Nancy's teasing earlier, the pizza's actually starting to look golden brown around the edges when Steve goes to check it. Not like the charred mess he made last time.
"Hope they're doin' ok," he mumbles, periodically checking the clock so he doesn't end up burning their meal. Last thing he needs right now is a gloating Nancy, cute as she is... And it's that sort of line of thinking that has Steve struggling to keep his head on straight. Even the timer going off doesn't seem to rattle him.
...Nancy didn't mean all that back there. Jonathan wasn't throwing hints... there's no way. Not a shot in hell, Steve thinks. Maybe he needs some more sleep, or something to eat.
But first he has guests to feed, so he scrambles to fold a couple towels in half in his hand and pulls the pizza out of the oven.
While he waits for it to cool on the counter, he takes a couple slices of bread from the pantry. Slathers them in peanut butter, crumples up a handful of Lays into it, and smooshes it all together as he takes a bite.
It's not the most exciting meal ever, but at least the process took his mind off things.
How long had they been gone anyway? he thinks, Were they waiting on him?
He checks the clock next to his telephone and sees that ten minutes have passed since he last checked. Not a super long time, but long enough to be rude, he's sure.
With that he walks into the living room. Expecting them to be on the couch watching a show or something, but no one's there.
Maybe they left...
But if that's the case, then why was it so loud upstairs? There's no way his parents got back early. They said they'd be gone until next week! And usually they take their sweet time, or give him some sort of warning beforehand, or call to check in.
...Did i miss the phone ringing?
His blood runs cold thinking he's been caught by his parents. Not that he would usually care-- but he's got Nancy and Jonathan here. Last thing he wants right now is for the two of them to ask questions that he wasn't prepared to answer.
So he races up the stairs. Skips two--three steps along the way, almost trips himself-- and makes it without injury. Runs towards his parents room and sees that the lights are still off... so he takes a minute to breathe again.
Still, the coast wasn't clear, and he walks over to the guest bedroom. Once again finding nothing. Then he checks the bathrooms, the attic.
Nothing seemed out of place.
The only light left on was the one coming from his room, which he thought he shut off. Steve swears the lights seem to flicker on and off in a strangely familiar way to when he gets closer, so he's pretty sure it's not some trick his mind's playing on him. And that keeps him on edge the whole walk over.
He doesn't have his bat on him, so he makes do with what he's got as he opens his door.
-----
What he's greeted with on the other side is a very giggly Jonathan and Nancy, sitting in the corner as they split a joint. (He also notices that his lamp is busted into pieces on the floor, but it's not important to him right now.)
The smoke's super concentrated in the air, and it makes Steve's eyes burn a bit. He thought he'd be used to it by now, considering how often he lights up. But it's still the same reaction, and it reminds him that he's out of his own smoke. It's not the strongest stuff in the world, but it gets him by. Any stronger and his parents might've started to notice.
All of that becomes mute when Steve hears the pair of them starting to bust a lung.
Looking over, he notices Nancy curling in on herself while Jonathan laughs so hard he bangs his head on the wall behind him. Whatever it was it must've been funny enough to leave a dent in the wall, and Steve kind of wishes he was in on the joke.
They're so fried, and Steve can't hold back his mirth in seeing them straight up hotboxing in front of him, like a real couple of teenagers.
He's heard stories from Jonathan about the strains he got when he came back-- but Nancy? Nancy is another story altogether. There was absolutely no way Mrs. Wheeler allowed that shit in her house. Though... it's not like any of them were amateurs exactly when it came to hiding shit from their parents. For all he knew it was just one more thing Nancy managed to hide.
"Hey," he speaks up as they both turn their heads back to look at him. Then back at eachother-- and then giggle for a while. Steve can't help the warmth that seeps into his chest when they do. Now bubbly for reasons that he can't afford to sift through right this minute. "If you guys think you're getting into my stash-- you're wrong."
"...You mean like the one at the bottom of your nightstand?" Jonathan gets out between laughs, already holding up a bag of chips.
"It's too late Harrington. We found the Fritos," Nancy says it in this serious tone, but the grin on her face buries it while Jonathan turns red he's so amused. Nancy catches the same bug, laughing as she pops the bag open and spills corn chips everywhere.
"Guys, really!--"
"Lucky for you we didn't take the SnowBalls yet." and Nancy chucks the bright pink snack right at Steve's chest with enough force to make him groan.
"Oh, thanks for your generosity guys. Really appreciate it," he says dryly as he makes his way further into his room. Sitting down and settling into their space to form a messed up circle.
"So," Steve starts, figuring he should join in. "Are we sharin' or?"
---
If someone told Steve a few years ago that he'd be sitting here with Nancy and Jonathan, getting baked? There was a decent chance that he'd think said person would be out of their mind. But that was in the past. 'King Steve' might've scoffed and went on his merry way, but now?
Now he's too busy enjoying himself, completely content to let the world pass him by as he lays back against the cushions.
"Hmmm," Jonathan sticks his hand further into a bag of Cheetos, pulling out a handful to share with Nancy, "I think you're lying."
"I'm not kidding!" Nancy giggles into her hand, "They do."
Steve's not so convinced. "Why would a shrimp's heart be in it's head?"
Nancy shrugs, "Makes sense to me. Plus it saves a lot of time to. Since the brain doesn't have to wait long for blood to pump towards the heart and--"
"Wait," Steve interrupts, "If it's heart is in it's head, then, where's the brain supposed to be?"
"In the same place, right next to it's stomach."
"Wait what? Now I'm even more confused!" Steve sounds totally baffled as he laughs, "Next you'll tell me some animals have four hearts and shit!--"
"Some do have multiple hearts--"
"Okay I'm starting to think we've said hearts way too many times during this conversation," Jonathan says, being the true voice of reason here.
"Jesus," Steve whistles, "Can't imagine you'd have bad blood pressure with four hearts."
"What did I just say," Jonathan groans, another ticker mention away from covering their mouths. "I think we've talked enough about shrimp biology to last us a lifetime."
Nancy scoffs, "Killjoy," as she takes a hit, and Steve just bursts out laughing.
"What got us started on shrimp hearts, anyway?"
"I dunno," Nancy shrugs, "Just seemed like a thing to do."
"No," Jonathan grins, "No you started going on about how sad it was that snakes didn't have arms."
"How are they 'sposed to hug, Jonathan? I don't think it's fair."
"They could just, coil around eachother," Steve offers, looping an arm around her.
"Yeah," she pouts, passing the bud towards him, "But it's not the same."
"Maybe, but I'm sure they learned to adapt,"
"Kind of like us with our bullshit," Jonathan adds.
"Yeah," Steve says, "Kinda like us with our bullshit."
Nancy does try to throw a smile for their sake, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Well, if it really bugs you," Steve continues, "I could give you a hug? Just to prove a point--"
Nancy laughs, "How would that prove anything?"
"Do you want a hug or not?"
More timid than either of them are really used to, Nancy does nod as she holds out her arms. And Steve follows just as easy as he bear hugs her for all he's got, and she does the exact same.
Something feels off about it, so Nancy pulls herself away from his neck and looks over at Jonathan like a dare. "You want in on this?"
Usually Jonathan might be a little more cautious with this sort of thing, but he's feeling a lot less stressed about well, everything. So he does lump himself along with them in the embrace and holds on just as tight.
It lasts a good while, and they all soak it up like a much needed respite.
Nancy pulls away first, looking over at Jonathan for a brief moment before she looks back at Steve.
"Hey, I've been thinkin'..." Jonathan pales, knowing exactly where this is going.
"About?"
"Just thinkin' out loud here. But what if I just..." It's not the time. It's totally not the time, she realizes. Jonathan looks over at her though. Not exactly trying to stop her, but not exactly cheering her on either. Just sits patiently while she decides what her next move should be.
And for the second time that night, she chickens out. "...Huh. I uh, totally blanked on what I was going to say. Shit," she laughs it off by trying to play it off as a joke. Something that didn't matter and would eventually be lost in the ether.
Steve sort of scrutinizes it, if only for a moment before he smiles himself. "Geez Nancy. You made it sound so serious,"
As a heart attack, the couple thinks.
"Almost scared me for a 'sec there,"
"Hah, yeah," Nancy feels herself swallowing back the words she was about to say.
"Hey you know what?" Steve says, "We totally forgot about the pizza downstairs. I'll go get it," and then he gets up, slowly extracting himself from them, and that bides time and leaves them an opening. Just enough for one of them to change their minds and say something.
They don't, and Steve walks out of the room. Leaving the remaining party to sit in regret.
"It wasn't the time. It just, wasn't the right time,"
"Nance," Jonathan soothes as he scoots closer and wraps an arm around her shoulders, "It's okay. We'll get it right."
--
Later on, when all that's left is pizza grease and empty wrappers, the remaining joint's passed between them until it's nothing more than a speck.
They definitely got their money's worth out of it, and it's Jonathan who decides to dig further into his bag when they're done in search of his film canister. It's the same one he used to store the first blunt, and he finds it buried at the bottom.
He treats it like it's gold, gently popping the lid off as he taps the lip of it against the palm of his hand. Just to check if there's any leftover flower that he might've missed out on, and he lifts it up to eye-level just to be sure.
Finding nothing but stems, Jonathan shrugs and tosses it over his shoulder as he settles back and stretches his arms. Decides to get comfortable by leaning into Steve while Nancy gets the same idea, leaving him feeling squished between them. (Not that Steve could be bothered.) He's too lazy to tell them to scoot over, and he kind of likes the pressure. It keeps him grounded while his body still lingers on the buzz.
Another minute or two passes like that without a word, and Steve feels himself starting to drift off. It'd be too easy, letting his body get pulled in by the haze. He's warm, he's cozy, and he's got his two favorite people right within arm's reach.
Speaking of... if he doesn't move his arms out from under them, they're going to fall asleep, and he can already feel static crawling up his veins--
"Hey, Nancy," It's Jonathan's soft voice, whispering when he doesn't really have to.
Steve's way more interested in what he has to say, so he goes stiff and tries his best not to move.
There's a long pause, at least to Steve-- where nothing's said at all.
Until Jonathan seems to deem it okay to continue. "...I think we should've just told him. Before he fell asleep,"
Steve's breathing sort of hitches, as he gets way too ahead of himself. Gets way too optimistic. He hopes they take it as a random noise and nothing else.
"... Is it sad if I say I got cold feet?" Nancy admits.
Jonathan snorts, "No. Honestly same here,"
There's a small smile on her face when he says it. It's tinged in how bummed she is over their circumstances, but Nancy doesn't let that sit as she turns on her side towards him and reaches across Steve to hold his hand. "Maybe we'll uh... Maybe we'll find the words next time,"
"What if we don't get a next time, Nancy? What if this is the only chance we have?"
It sits sour in the pit of her stomach, but it is a possibility, she figures. "We can't think like that. Since when do we let shit like that get to us? I mean, yeah, we've had our moments," Said moments twisting her up more if she chooses to linger on it, "But we always come out on top, ya know?"
Steve can tell just from the way Jonathan sighs, that he's considering all of it. Every word she says. "You're right,"
"I know."
It does pull a chuckle out of Jonathan, and Steve just barely manages to smother his so he's not caught.
"Should've saw that one coming. Look, I think we need to just--"
"Bite the bullet?"
"Exactly. What's the worst that could ha--"
"Please don't say that. The worse has happened, so many times."
"Well, then I say we do it. What's one more."
"Yeah... what's one more."
The exchange is so tenderly said, and it's hard for Steve to keep quiet in a moment like this. He wants to ask them what's wrong. Get right down to the bottom of it so he can help them out. If it's something he did, he'd make up for it. Or maybe it's just some shitty co-worker of theirs that needs to be told what's what--
"So, how should we start?"
Steve can't help but think that the way Jonathan says it makes it sound like they're defusing a bomb.
"Well," Nancy says, now leaning her head on Steve's chest, "We should start from the beginning."
"Nancy..."
"Look, just repeat after me," she clears her throat quietly to herself, "I really, really like you."
Steve hopes that neither of them notice his heart rattling in his ribcage. Finds it a little cruel that he has to hear the words in surround sound, so close to his ear while he's trapped between them.
"I, don't know if I can do this,"
"Just, inhale and exhale. All it takes is practice, right?" He feels Jonathan nodding against his shoulder, and gets flustered after realizing how close he's got to be by now to notice it.
"Let's just, try again." he hears Nancy breathe in like she's gathering herself, and then he feels someone digging their hand into his shirt, "Steve, we really, really like you."
"Steve, we really, really like you."
The only thing that seems to echo in Steve's head is a resounding What!?
"There we go! See, that wasn't so bad right--"
"Fact we might even love you," Jonathan laughs while sounding relieved, like he's getting something big off his chest, "Isn't that crazy."
Maybe Steve will end up passing out after all. He's starting to hear this loud ringing in his ears-- and it doesn't seem to want to quit.
Clearly he's not the only one that's stunned, because Nancy hisses out purely in shock, "What? That's not what we rehearsed!--"
"I don't know! Just figured going off script might help,"
"Jonathan,"
"It's not like it's not true."
"Well, yeah but--"
"But what?"
"We don't need to scare him off." Scare me? Steve thinks, God if only you knew.
"You think that's scary," and without much preamble, Jonathan does move himself closer. Cards his other hand through Steve's hair as he whispers the same three words right into his ear.
The hand vice-gripping Steve's shirt only tightens as Nancy gasps, "Jonathan!"
"What? It's not like he can actually hear us--"
They both feel a squeeze around their waist. It's brief and almost way too faint, but it's there, kind of like a brand as Steve holds them both in his hands and slowly opens his eyes.
"Mind if I call your bluff?"