June17
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Three shots ring out.
Steve hears them before he feels them; a warm, wet pain burning in his torso, intolerably excruciating.
There’s a bundle of squawks and screams, outbursts of panic and anger, and it’s only when Hopper falls forwards to take Steve up into a slightly rough, protective hold, does he realize that two of those shots have lodged themselves in his own flesh and bone. (Realizes that he’d moved, instinctively, to shield El, despite never having spoken to her, who’d the gun had been so precisely pointed at, aimed for.)
Steve Harrington watches his own blood pool and trickle over a series of hands pressed against him, small and large, soft and rugged, and for a moment, wants to stay like this. He can’t.
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Bookmarked by June17
25 Jan 2023
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“Rules. Like, there’ll be no eating in my car. You’re not driving my car. No heavy metal,” Steve keeps listing, “you’re not picking up women and fucking them in m-”
“I'll try to control myself,” Eddie interrupts with a quip, a smirk. Fucking girls in Steve’s car, or anywhere else for that matter, isn’t going to be an issue, unless something pretty fundamental shifts in him.
Steve continues, completely ignoring Eddie, “You’ll wipe your feet. You’re not dragging dirt all over my car. No hitchhikers. No cutesy road games. No smoking in the car. I’m not paying for all the gas.”
“Ass, gas or grass, got it,” Eddie says, like he's taking this very seriously. He is not taking this seriously.
Or: Road trip!
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Bookmarked by June17
25 Jan 2023