Stonathan ❤️

87

NOT MINE!!

all credits go to gardensong on ao3

Jonathan didn't know what to expect when he parked his car out in front of Steve Harrington's place, having being beckoned here by his girlfriend who had called him with the cryptic message, "You have to come over to Steve's. Okay, see you there, bye! Love you!"

Sure enough, Nancy's car was in the driveway, so Jonathan placed his on the sidewalk before looking up at the Harrington's place. He'd always thought it was ugly, one of the newer buildings in Hawkins, all angles and concrete. It was still a lot nicer than any place he'd ever be able to afford, though, based on what he'd seen from the outside alone. It had a pool, for chrissakes.

He realized he had been expecting to see Nancy waiting for him outside, ready to be whisked away home or some secluded corner near the woods, or pretty much anywhere. But as the minutes ticked by, Jonathan stuck to his seat, he realized that Nancy was not coming outside at all, and he was expected to go in.

He had never been inside Steve Harrington's house. He didn't like to think about how he was familiar with the layout without having been invited over, because it made him feel ashamed and ugly. He hadn't really talked to Nancy about the whole thing since it went down (the photos, the spying, the guilt), and he certainly hadn't broached the topic with Steve of all people. Steve had broken his camera, Steve had bought him a new one. Nothing more had to be said, really.

Steve must know that Nancy had invited Jonathan, is what Jonathan told himself as he waded through the muggy summer evening to the Harrington's front doorstep. He wiped his palms on his shorts and then rang the doorbell in one quick motion, before he could chicken out and turn around.

He heard the bell ring inside the house, followed by hurried, loud footsteps and a crash.

"Oh! Oh my god!" The yell was muffled by the front door, but it sent Jonathan into apocalypse-mode instantly.

"Steve?" he called, leaning against the wood. Anxious cries sounded from inside, and Jonathan jiggled the doorknob anxiously. "Steve!"

The door fell open under his weight, and Jonathan stumbled inside, panting heavily. There was a welcome mat set askew, a shoe rack, and steps leading down into a living area where Elvis was blaring from two speakers.

Steve lay at the bottom of the steps, crumpled in a heap, and right before Jonathan ran to his side, he realized Steve wasn't crying at all, but laughing. His face was red with it, and what Jonathan had mistaken for sobs was actually wheezing laughter. He was clutching at his sides and rolling one way and another, gasping for air with tears streaming down his face.

Out of nowhere, another figure appeared: Robin jumped into frame behind Steve, wearing dungarees and a hot pink bra on her head, brandishing a broom as a weapon, the stick end pointed cautiously at Jonathan. He raised his hands slowly in surrender in response.

"Guys?"

"Oh my god!" Steve wheezed. "Oh my god, it's Jonathan!"

"It's Jonathan!" Robin chorused, dropping the broom and raising her arms above her head. The broom hit Steve in the knee with a worrisome thunk .

"Ow!"

"Yeah, it's me," Jonathan said weakly. Was T-Rex playing? "I thought you guys were in danger in here, or... something."

Robin stared at him, then burst into laughter.

"My hero! Our hero, Steve!"

From the floor, Steve waved his arms and announced grandiosely, "Our knight in shining armor!"