Chapter Text
Nancy woke slowly, the way she had learned to do after everything. Not startled. Not reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there anymore. Just drifting back into herself.
The first thing she noticed was warmth. Solid and steady at her back, an arm draped over her waist like it had always belonged there. The second thing was the smell. Coffee grounds. Soap. Steve.
She didn’t open her eyes right away.
Steve Harrington’s house still felt strange to her, even after eight months of visits that everyone in Hawkins pretended not to count. It wasn’t that she felt unwelcome. It was the opposite. The ease of it unsettled her. The quiet mornings. The mismatched mugs. The way the floors creaked in familiar places, like the house had already learned his habits and adjusted around them.
She shifted slightly, just enough to feel his breath change against the back of her neck. He tightened his arm without waking, a reflex that made something in her chest ache in the softest way.
Hawkins had a way of pulling her back into old versions of herself. The girl with a notebook tucked under her arm. The girl who thought truth was something you chased until it cornered you. But lying here, wrapped in Steve’s sleep-warm presence, she felt older than that. Calmer. Like she had finally grown into the space she used to fight so hard to claim.
It had been years since the end. Years since the town had stopped flinching at strange sounds and learned how to live with the scars instead of trying to erase them. Things had changed. People moved on. Hawkins learned how to pretend it was just another Midwestern town again.
And yet.
Nancy had been coming back more and more often. At first it had been excuses. Interviews to follow up on. A favor for the paper. Checking in on her mom. Then the excuses stopped sounding like excuses at all.
Now, everyone knew.
Coach Harrington and Reporter Nancy. That was how people said it, like it was a headline already written. If you asked a four-year-old at the elementary school, they’d tell you. If you asked anyone else, they’d smile too knowingly and pretend they weren’t placing bets on when the two of them would finally admit it out loud.
Their friends, at least, had the decency to give them space. Mostly. There was a betting pool, of course. Robin ran it. Loudly. With charts.
Nancy smiled faintly at the thought and finally opened her eyes.
Steve’s bedroom was washed in early light. The curtains Robin had picked out last spring let the sun in without letting it glare. A baseball cap sat on the dresser. One of his. The letter H was fraying at the edge.
Teacher. Coach.
She still couldn’t quite believe it.
Steve had found his place in a way that felt almost miraculous. He loved the kids. Loved the structure. Loved that the rules made sense and that effort was rewarded with something tangible. He talked about batting averages and practice drills with the same earnest intensity he once reserved for monster plans and babysitting schedules.
Her heart felt full every time he did.
Her mother had taken to it immediately. Holly dating Derek, Hawkins High’s best catcher, had been a much bigger concern in Karen Wheeler’s world than whatever was clearly happening between her eldest daughter and Steve Harrington. Steve had mentioned baseball statistics over dinner once, confidently and at length, and that had been it. Karen didn’t know a thing about the sport, but she believed him. Nancy suspected she would have believed anything that sounded stable and normal.
Steve shifted behind her, pressing his face briefly into her hair.
“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
She turned just enough to look at him. His hair was a mess. His eyes were still heavy. There was a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow.
“Morning,” she said softly.
They didn’t kiss. Not yet. They were both aware of the time. Of the knock that would come later. Robin never knocked delicately. Vickie tried, bless her, but Robin’s energy tended to spill over regardless.
Nancy stayed where she was anyway.
She didn’t want to leave the bed. Not yet. Not when the world felt paused like this, suspended between the past and whatever came next.
She knew she needed to be honest soon. About everything. About coming back to open and run the Hawkins Post full time. About them. Thanksgiving was coming, and with it, the inevitable gathering of everyone who had ever survived something together. Secrets didn’t survive long in rooms like that.
But this one. She wanted to keep it just a little longer.
Steve brushed his thumb against her hip, absentminded. Comfortable.
“We should get up,” he said, though he made no move to do so.
“In a minute,” Nancy replied.
Outside, Hawkins was waking up. Inside, she let herself stay. Just for a while.
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Steve Harrington loved two things more than he ever would have admitted out loud.
The first was the sound a gym made after the kids left. The echo of it. Sneakers gone, laughter faded, just the hum of the lights and the scuff marks on the floor telling the story of who had been there. It felt earned, that quiet. Like the day had done its job.
The second was when those same kids came back.
Not kids anymore, really. Adults, technically. Some with jobs. Some with plans. Some pretending they weren’t still figuring it out. They showed up at games, leaned against the fence, called him Coach with grins that were too familiar to be respectful. Steve pretended to scold them and then glowed for the rest of the week.
He’d found his place. Somehow. Against all odds and most expectations.
Thanksgiving was coming, which meant Hawkins was doing that thing it always did. Pulling people back in. Filling up houses that usually felt too quiet. Letting history sit at the table whether anyone invited it or not.
That was how Steve ended up in his backyard, cheap beer sweating in his hand, string lights flickering overhead even though it was barely dark yet.
Dustin was talking. Dustin was always talking.
“So the robotics lab finally got the funding,” he said, pacing like he was presenting to a board of directors instead of a group of guys sitting on mismatched lawn chairs. “Which is great, because honestly, the university was sleeping on—”
“Dustin,” Lucas cut in, smiling. “You already told us this. Twice.”
Dustin stopped, offended. “I’m setting context.”
Jonathan leaned back, quiet but comfortable, beer balanced on his knee. Will sat beside him, listening more than speaking, eyes moving between faces like he was memorizing the moment. Mike was sprawled on the grass, staring up at the sky like it might explain something to him if he waited long enough.
Steve watched them all and felt that familiar mix of pride and disbelief.
They were alive. They were here. That still mattered.
“Okay,” Steve said, clearing his throat.
They all looked at him, which was still weird. Coach Harrington, sure. But this wasn’t a huddle. This was something else.
“I just wanted to say,” he began, then stopped. Took a breath. “I know the whole town knows about me and Nancy.”
Mike snorted.
Steve shot him a look. “I’m serious.”
Dustin raised his beer in a mock toast. “Congrats on the world’s worst-kept secret.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah. Well. I appreciate you guys pretending you don’t know. Or at least not making it weird.”
Jonathan smiled, small and genuine. “We’re happy for you.”
“Yeah,” Lucas added. “It makes sense.”
That, of all things, hit Steve hardest.
“Thanks,” he said, voice a little rougher than he’d planned. “One thing, though. I do not appreciate the betting pool.”
Dustin grinned. “Robin.”
“Robin,” Steve agreed. “Specifically Robin.”
Will laughed softly. “She made a spreadsheet.”
“I know,” Steve said. “That is why I'm going to make my MPV catcher derek help his gf Holly win the bet pool .”
That got a round of groans.
“So,” Steve continued, squaring his shoulders like he was about to call a play, “Nancy and I are gonna announce it. Officially. At Thanksgiving.”
Dustin blinked. Lucas paused mid-sip. Jonathan raised his eyebrows.
Mike sat bolt upright and immediately spit his beer all over the grass.
“WHAT?”
Steve recoiled. “Jesus, Mike.”
“No,” Mike said, wiping his mouth. “Not that. You said Thanksgiving. You said announce. You said—” He froze. “Wait. Did you say Derek is dating Holly?”
The backyard went dead silent.
Then Lucas lost it.
“Oh my god,” he laughed. “You didn’t know?”
“How would I know?” Mike demanded. “She’s my little sister.”
Dustin clapped him on the shoulder. “Dude. After Vecna, they were joined at the hip. Like, medically concerning levels of together.”
Jonathan shook his head, smiling. “She talks about him all the time.”
“She loves,” Will added helpfully, “telling people that Derek screamed at Vecna.”
Mike stared. “He did not.”
“Oh, he did,” Dustin said proudly. “Something like, ‘Suck my fat one!’ Not his finest moment, but memorable.”
Mike buried his face in his hands. “I hate this town.”
Steve cleared his throat again, louder this time.
Dustin looked at him, instantly serious in the way only Dustin could manage. “Relax, man. Your secret that even Ted Wheeler, the most oblivious guy alive, somehow knows? Safe with us.”
Steve snorted despite himself.
“You two announce your ‘secret relationship’ at Thanksgiving,” Dustin continued, “Holly wins the betting pool, Robin cries because she loses twenty bucks, and balance is restored to the universe.”
Steve smiled. “That’s the plan.”
They all raised their beers, clinking bottles in a loose circle.
Then Dustin took a breath.
“Since we’re all together,” he said casually, “I’m asking Suzie to marry me. So I’m gonna need help picking a ring.”
Silence again. A beat.
Then chaos.
“What?”
“Dustin!”
“Are you serious?”
“How long have you been sitting on that?”
Steve just laughed, shaking his head, heart full and a little stunned.
Thanksgiving was going to be loud. Crowded. Honest.
For once, he wasn’t afraid of that at all.
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Robin was already halfway down the hallway, clipboard tucked under her arm, hair doing that frantic bounce it got whenever she was in charge of something she cared too much about.
“I swear, if the brass section comes in early again, I will lose my mind,” she called over her shoulder to no one in particular. “Vickie, if you see Mark, tell him flutes are not optional.”
“I’m right here,” Vickie said gently, falling into step beside her. “And breathe.”
Robin didn’t. She disappeared into the band room instead, the door swinging shut behind her along with the rising sound of tuning instruments.
Nancy watched it happen from the end of the hall, amused in that fond, tired way that came from knowing Robin Buckley exactly as she was.
“That woman is running purely on spite and caffeine,” Max said beside her.
Nancy turned. Max was leaning against a locker, arms crossed, red hair pulled back, expression sharp but relaxed. Vickie stood between them, hands folded, eyes bright with quiet curiosity.
“So,” Max went on, “what’s the emergency meeting?”
Nancy hesitated. Not because she didn’t know what to say. Because saying it meant the secret was officially leaving the space she’d been holding it in.
“Well,” she said finally, exhaling. “Steve and I are announcing our relationship at Thanksgiving.”
Vickie’s face softened immediately. “Oh.”
Max grinned. “About time.”
Nancy laughed under her breath. “I wanted to thank you both. For pretending you don’t know. For… everything.”
Max waved a hand. “Please. Even my therapist knows.”
Nancy winced. “Okay, fair. But also—” She lowered her voice. “We’re doing it so Holly wins the betting pool. And to screw Robin.”
Vickie blinked once. Then smiled.
“No problem,” she said. “Robin needs to learn not to run gambling operations involving her friends.”
“Thank you,” Nancy said sincerely. “And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Vickie replied. “Watching her lose will be worth it.”
Max snorted. “Also, next time you want to keep a secret, don't kiss the secret at school grounds.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Derek told Holly he saw you and Steve making out in the locker room months ago,” Max said casually.
Nancy froze. “He what.”
“Relax,” Max added. “He wasn’t being creepy. Just… impressed. And Holly told literally everyone she trusts.”
Nancy closed her eyes for a second. “Of course she did.”
“It was time,” Max said, softer now. “People know. People are happy about it. Like, finally happy.”
Nancy nodded, feeling that truth settle into her chest.
“And,” she added, turning back to Max, “thank you. For helping Holly. With… everything. She’s fifteen. First year of high school. There are questions she doesn’t want Mom to know she’s asking.”
Max’s expression shifted, gentler. “Hey. Holly’s like a little sister to me. I’ve got her.”
Nancy smiled. “I know.”
“And Derek’s a good kid,” Max continued. “No worries there.”
“Still,” Nancy said, half-joking, “I appreciate you watching out.”
Max’s smile turned sharp. “Oh, don’t worry. If he ever crosses a line, Steve and I can deal with him.”
Vickie tilted her head. “Together?”
Max shrugged. “Baseball can be played with nine fingers.”
Nancy burst out laughing. Vickie followed, covering her mouth as she tried not to.
“Thank you,” Nancy said once she caught her breath. “For everything.”
Max pushed off the locker. “Anytime, Wheeler.”
Vickie smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, Ms. Star Reporter. Your secret’s safe.”
From down the hall, Robin’s voice echoed again, frantic and loud.
“WHY ARE THE FLUTES WARMING UP WITHOUT ME?”
Nancy glanced toward the band room, then back at her friends, heart full.
Thanksgiving was coming. And for once, the truth felt like something worth celebrating.
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Steve hadn’t meant to look at the rings.
That was the thing he kept telling himself as the bell over the jewelry store door chimed and they stepped inside, the place smelling faintly of metal polish and old carpet. This was Dustin’s mission. Dustin’s plan. Steve was just moral support. A ride. A wallet with a little more room in it.
He definitely wasn’t supposed to find anything.
Dustin went straight for the counter, already talking. “Okay, so, hi, we’re looking for an engagement ring, but like, not boring. No offense. And not something that looks like it belongs to a princess in a cartoon.”
The woman behind the counter smiled patiently, like she’d heard every version of this speech before. “Of course.”
Steve drifted. He couldn’t help it. His eyes moved over the glass cases, catching flashes of gold and silver, stones that threw light back at him in small, sharp sparks. He thought about Nancy’s hands. Long fingers. Ink smudges sometimes, even now. The way she twisted her ring when she was thinking hard.
Then he saw it.
It wasn’t big. That was the first thing. Simple band, soft gold, a single stone set low and clean. Nothing flashy. Nothing loud. It felt… steady. Like it knew what it was.
Steve stopped walking.
The ring sat there like it was waiting. And the ridiculous thing was, the moment he saw it, he could picture it on her finger so clearly it almost hurt. Nancy at the kitchen table, morning light. Nancy flipping through notes. Nancy reaching for his hand without thinking.
He swallowed.
“Steve?” Dustin called from the counter. “You alive over there?”
Steve pointed. “That one.”
Dustin followed his gaze, then grinned. “Oh. Oh no. You found the Nancy ring.”
Steve frowned. “I wasn’t looking for—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin said, already beside him. “Sure you weren’t. Dude, it’s perfect. That is such a Nancy ring.”
Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… it felt right.”
Dustin nodded, uncharacteristically sincere for half a second. Then he smirked. “Great. Awesome. Fantastic. You accidentally found the love-of-your-life ring. Now help me find one for Suzie, which is why we’re actually here, man.”
Steve laughed, tension easing out of his shoulders. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do it.”
He stayed focused after that. Really focused. Asked questions. Listened. Thought about Suzie and her laugh and the way Dustin talked about her like she was gravity itself. They found something delicate, with a little twist in the band, a stone that caught the light in a way that felt joyful instead of serious.
Dustin beamed like he’d just won something.
When they left the store, both of them quieter than when they’d gone in, Steve glanced back through the window one last time.
Soon, he told himself. Not rushing. Just… soon.
Across town, Nancy stood at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted with flour, trying very hard not to scream.
Karen Wheeler leaned against the opposite counter, watching her with that knowing look that had only sharpened with age. She stirred a pot slowly, deliberately.
“So,” Karen said lightly, “are you and Steve really talking about kids?”
Nancy froze for half a second. Six nuggets. Of course. Of course Steve had mentioned it. She closed her eyes, took a careful breath, and turned back to the dough like her life depended on it.
“Well,” she said evenly, “I already did the down payment on an RV.”
Karen hummed, pleased.
“And the number of kids,” Nancy continued, heart pounding, “is still in negotiation. But I think we can reach the final number soon enough. Don’t worry, Mom.”
Karen smiled. Warm. Satisfied. Dangerous.
“Good,” she said. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can you tell Mary, Derek, Debbie, Joshua and Holly they need to finish their game and come eat?”
Nancy nodded automatically. “Yeah.”
She walked toward the living room, calling out names, and it hit her all at once. The absurdity of it. The weight and the comfort tangled together.
She stopped at the doorway and watched Holly on the floor, dice scattered, Derek arguing about hit points, grown kids and almost-grown kids still sitting cross-legged like nothing had ever changed.
“Holly,” Nancy said. “Dinner.”
“One more roll!” Holly protested, fifteen and dramatic and still so young it made Nancy’s chest ache.
Nancy smiled despite herself. “You have five minutes.”
As they groaned and scrambled, Nancy leaned against the doorframe, laughing softly.
Somehow, after monsters and endings and years of trying to outrun the past, she was still telling a fifteen-year-old to stop playing Dungeons & Dragons and come eat dinner.
And for the first time, it didn’t feel strange at all.