Stonathan ❤️

100

NOT MINE!!

all credits go to dustyirish on ao3

A/N: WE DID IT!! <3 I LOVE YOU GUYS!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Come on, baby, gonna take a little ride
Down, down by the ocean side
Gonna get real close
Get real tight
Baby, gonna drown tonight

~ The Doors

Jonathan drove towards Linda Shane's house. He didn't know who the hell Linda Shane was, or how Steve knew her, or why she had been chosen to host his birthday bash. But Steve had invited him, and that meant that Jonathan had to make the effort to show up, even if he would most likely park in the woods across from the house, debating with himself for half an hour or so before promptly returning home.

He looked down, fiddling with the radio dial, then glanced back up only to see a blood-covered Steve Harrington standing in the middle of the road, waving his arms wildly over his head.

Jonathan slammed on the brakes, screeching to a stop about two feet in front of him. His heart was threatening to pound out of his chest as Steve ran to the passenger door, wrenched it open and flopped inside.

"Step on it, Byers!" he was screaming, even before the door was closed. "Go go go!!"

Jonathan stomped the accelerator and obeyed, his hands shaking on the wheel.

He drove like a madman for a couple of miles until they hit the edge of town, then dropped to a safer speed, finally daring to take his attention off of the road long enough to look at Steve. His stomach sank. When he had first spotted Steve in front of the car he had thought - if he had time to think anything - that Steve had maybe done something to someone and needed to escape. It was clear now, that whatever had taken place, it had all been done to Steve.

His face was a bloody mess of scrapes and cuts, his nose was bleeding freely down the front of his shirt, there was even a horizontal gash across his neck that looked so much like an attempted throat-slashing that Jonathan had to choke back bile.

"Jesus! What happened?!"

"Fucking Hargrove happened!"

"Are you all right?" It was an idiotic question, but Jonathan was still in shock from nearly turning the man he secretly loved into roadkill.

"I wouldn't go that far," Steve muttered, and lay his head back against the seat, groaning.

Jonathan reached a hand out, not retracting it even when it landed on Steve's thigh. He was too worried to stick to his usual avoidance plan. "Do you need the E.R.?"

"No, it was only six or seven punches as opposed to the usual dozen."

Fury swept through Jonathan, rapid and intense, and he jerked the steering wheel hard to the left.

Steve shot back up in his seat, "Where are you going?!"

"Back there to kick Hargrove's ass," he growled. "He's not going to keep doing this shit to you!"

Steve was staring at him, open-mouthed. "Fuck, Byers, that was unexpected. And almost disturbingly hot." He lay a hand on Jonathan's arm and gave him a gentle pat. "Turn back around, man. It is so not worth it. Besides, he'll already have bailed. He got what he came for."

Jonathan knew Steve was right, but he also knew he himself had meant what he said. It was going to stop, one way or another. He sighed and made another U-turn, this time at normal speed.