Joe Keery Imagines

No Time Like The Present-Steve Harrington

Never in a million years did I think I would be where I was; tied to Steve Harrington while we are interrogated by Russians. Then again, I never thought I would be spending the summer scooping ice cream with him either.

"You see that table over there to your right?"

I sighed when he looked to the left. "No, the other right."

"Oh," he said as he looked to the right.

"Yeah, okay," I said, still trying to piece together my plan. "And do you see those scissors?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I think if we move at the same time, we can get over there. And maybe I can kick the table and knock them into your lap."

"And I could cut the binds," Steve caught on.

"Yeah, and we could get out of here."

"Gotcha! Okay, yeah. We can do that. We can totally do that. Those morons left scissors in here?"

"Yeah," I scoffed. "Morons!"

"Morons," Steve chuckled.

"Okay," I said, taking a shaky breath. "So on the count of three, we're going to hop."

"Okay," Steve slightly stuttered. "Hop on three. I gotcha."

"Alright," I started, praying this worked, "1. . . 2. . . 3."

We jumped, successfully moving our chairs closer to the table.

"Okay, that worked," I chuckled, trying not to sound as surprised as I felt.

"Alright," Steve nodded.

"Okay. Umm. . . Alright. Let's try again. Ready?"

We started counting in sync. "1. . . 2. . . 3!"

We jumped in sync again, both of us letting out victorious laughs.

"Holy shit!" I laughed. "This is gonna work!"

"We're getting close!" Steve agreed. "We're getting really close. Ready?"

We started counting in sync again, but this time our jump was off. I gasped as we fell. The reality of everything finally hit me. I slowly started laughing.

"It's okay," Steve said softly. "It's okay, Y/N. Don't cry."

He paused and caught on to the fact that I wasn't crying.

"Are you laughing?"

"Yep," I giggled between laughs.

"Geez," he sighed.

"I'm sorry," I said still laughing. "I'm so sorry. I just. . . I can't believe I'm gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve "the hair" Harrington. It's just too trippy, man."

"We're not gonna die," he tried to reassure me. "We're gonna get out of here, okay? You gotta just let me think for a second."

I finally stopped laughing, both of us letting out accidentally synced sighs.

"Do you remember Mrs. Click's sophomore history class?"

"What?"

"Mrs. Clickity-clackity? That's what us band dweebs called her."

I should've felt embarrassed when I heard Steve sigh, but I continued. "It was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast; bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you two days a week for a year. Mr. Funny. Mr. Cool. The king of Hawkins High himself. Do you even remember me from that class?"