stranger things imagines.

aftermath

POSTED ON: scoopsahoy

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Sitting in the back of the ambulance with Steve was almost surreal. His face was covered in dried, brown blood and his eye was swollen shut. You had a few scrapes on your knees and burns on your skin from the fireworks. Your necks hurt from where they drugged you and your voice was hoarse from screaming for help.

Tonight was one of the most intense and terrifying nights of your life. Getting separated from Steve and the rest of the Scoops Troop while in an underground Russian base only solidified your fears of dying, but when you reunited with Steve in Starcourt, he hugged you tighter than he ever had.

The ride back to his house was silent. You drove so he could close his eyes while his head pounded and ached, but he rested his hand on your knee to let you know he was still there. It was such a simple gesture, but it was comforting.

You'd never seen Steve like this. He wasn't his usual upbeat self. He was quiet, shrunken, gloomy. He had a right to be, but it scared you. You knew he'd been beaten before, but never beaten and drugged before almost dying and throwing fireworks at a demogorgon.

When you got to his house, you led him to the kitchen and made him sit down. You went upstairs and dug out a first aid kit, cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and bandages. When you went back downstairs, he was still sitting where you left him.

You laid the kit down on the table and peeled the gauze from his temple.

"They didn't bother cleaning this, did they?" you asked softly, to which he shook his head. You walked over to the sink, where you opened the cabinet underneath and tossed the gauze into the trashcan.

You grabbed a rag and wet it with warm water. You walked back over to him, gently tilting his head upwards. You softly wiped away the blood, the pressure to his wounds making him wince.

"I could've killed them when I saw what they did to you," you mumbled. He didn't answer, but a small smile crept onto his lips.

When the dried blood was cleaned off of his skin, you could really see his injuries.

He had a gash just under the arch of his eyebrow, which was still bleeding. A large brown bruise had formed around it, making it look worse than it actually was.

"Jesus," you said. "They really got you good, didn't they?"

You grabbed a cotton ball and the rubbing alcohol.

"What's that?"

"Alcohol. To clean it."

"Do we at least get to drink it?"

You chuckled. "It's not that kind of alcohol, but I'm sure your parents have a stash somewhere." You poured some of it onto the cotton, readjusting his head. "It's gonna sting, okay?" He nodded as you pressed it to his wound.

He sucked in a quick breath and you frowned. "You weren't lying."

It didn't take you long to finish cleaning everything up before you looked at him.

"Let's go take a shower before I put this bandage on, yeah? I can get the blood out of your hair."

He nodded, and you grabbed his hand, letting you lead him to the bathroom. You both stripped, groaning at how sore you both were. When you were both nude, you started the water and pulled him in.

You both stood in the shower for about twenty minutes. You helped him wash his hair to make sure it was free of blood and sweat, and he did the same for you.

When he pulled you in for a hug, you melted into his touch and the hot water.

You may have been in the shower together, but there was nothing sexual about this shower. You could tell Steve was shaken - which was an understatement. You didn't know what he went through to get those wounds, but you could imagine it was traumatic.

When you wrapped your arms around him, you heard him sniffle and a sob left his mouth.

You pulled your head back and looked up at him. You raised your hand and rested it on his cheek, wiping the tear that dripped down.

"It's okay, Steve. We're safe. You're safe now. It's just me here. You have nothing to worry about."

Those words made him cry even harder, which caused a few tears to escape your eyes.

"I don't know what I'd be doing right now if it wasn't for you," he said quietly, just loud enough to hear over the water.

"You'd probably be with Dustin or Robin."

"Or I'd be here alone."

"You're not alone. Not right now, at least. I'm not gonna leave until you want me to, okay?"

He nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

You cupped his face and pulled your head back to look up at him. You pulled it closer to yours, kissing the open wound softly after seeing the bleeding had stopped.

"Do you wanna talk about how you got those?"

He was silent for a few seconds. "When I got separated from you and Robin before we were tied together and drugged, they had me in a questioning room. They didn't believe me when I told them I didn't know anything, and they just kept... punching me. It knocked me out eventually, but I remember it."

"Jesus. Does your head still hurt?" He nodded. "I'll get you some ibuprofen and melatonin when we get out of here. It'll make your head stop hurting and help you sleep."

He nodded again. When you were out of the shower, you sat him on the toilet and bandaged him up before drying your hair and grabbing the medicine you mentioned.

It was nice sleeping in an actual bed after spending the night in a concrete elevator on top of Steve.

You looked up at him as your chin rested on his chest. You ran your fingers through his damp hair, which he didn't bother styling. He had his eyes closed and his arm was wrapped tightly around your body.

"I'm just glad we were down there together," you said quietly.

"I wish you hadn't been there."

"Why not?"

"They drugged you."

"And you got the shit beaten out of you. I think I can handle getting some drugs pumped into me."

"Still."

"I'm okay. Really. You should be worrying about yourself."

"It's not like I have a concussion or anything."

"You know what I mean." He didn't answer. "I love you, but you need to worry about yourself sometimes, babe. Seriously."

"Not when you're my priority."

"I'm not your child, Steve. I can handle myself. You can be your own priority sometimes." Silence again. "Promise me you'll put yourself first every once in a while."

"Okay," he sighed.

"'Okay', what?"

"I'll put myself first sometimes."

"Good."

After a moment, he said, "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Yes, you do."

"I love you," he said for the second time that night.

"I love you, too."

It wasn't long before his melatonin kicked in, snores leaving his mouth. You watched his sleep, studying every detail, every mark. His eye was still swollen, but it looked better after the hot shower.

You closed your eyes soon after, relishing the feeling of the soft mattress under your body.