She hated him. He hated her. And that was alright in their world until one night. Everything changed then, conversations exchanged between drags of a shared cigarette having developed a mutual respect between enemies.
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Slowburn enemies to frie...
When Eleven showed up, everything suddenly made a lot more sense. Why my powers went haywire, why the Demodogs didn't make it inside. All the pieces fell into place in that moment. I felt deep in my bones that she was alive and watching us. She has always been here, watching us without our knowledge.
Until now.
Now Steve and I are stuck on babysitting duty. Alone.
Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce went to an undisclosed location to keep Will somewhere the Mind Flayer didn't know. Hopper and Eleven went back to the lab.
Max hands me an ice pack to put on my pounding head. I take it and thank her, huffing as I lay back down on the couch.
"Push it in there; come on!" Dustin instructs from the kitchen.
"Is this necessary?" Steve groans. I roll my eyes. I can't see them, but I know they are up to no good.
"It's for science!" Dustin retorts.
"You're explaining this to Mrs. Byers," Steve finally says. I hear the fridge door slam shut. Steve lingers in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. He leans against the frame, folding his arms across his chest.
I look up at the spiky popcorn ceiling but watch him through my peripherals.
"How are you feeling?" he finally asks.
I let out a bunch of hot air I was holding in. "My powers are killing me. Monsters are taking over the world, and I'm pretty sure you just stored one in the fridge,"
He graces me with a breathy laugh, stepping closer. He digs in his back pocket for something.
"Well, I can't do much about those, but..." he whips out a cardboard box. "how about a smoke?"
My neck snaps to look at him all the way. "No fucking way, you still have those?" I laugh.
Steve shrugs. "I save them for special occasions. I'd say this falls into that category,"
I giggle, carefully getting off the couch. I take the ice pack with me when we go out to the front porch.
Steve opens the door and ushers me out first. I step outside, and he's right on my tail, so close that his torso brushes my back as he shuts the door behind us.
I sit cross-legged on the concrete porch. Steve sits across from me.
He flicks the pack open, pulling out a cigarette and a bright blue lighter. Pinching the cigarette between his lips, he shields it from the breeze with one hand and lights the end with the other. Breathing in the nicotine, he seems to be contemplating something. Smoke drifts through the air, surrounding us in a cloud. He slips the cigarette between his fingers, passing it my way. Our fingertips accidentally brush as I snatch the cigarette from his hands, setting my hand ablaze. I cringe, squinting my eyes and bringing the cigarette to my lips.
