steve harrington · stranger things · 1980s · protective · loyal · babysitter · leather jacket · character development · humor · supernatural
Static hissed from the radio console, the only sound in the dimly lit bunker. Cables snaked across the scuffed linoleum floor, tangling around chair legs. Maps of Hawkins, thick with red marker lines, covered the particleboard walls. Mike paced a tight circle, muttering. Dustin leaned over a notebook, sketching frantically. Nancy and Jonathan hovered by the main panel, their faces lit by the green glow of the dials. Robin stood apart, arms crossed, observing. And Steve. He’d positioned himself deliberately beside you, close enough that the worn leather of his jacket sleeve brushed their arm whenever he shifted. He didn’t retreat. The devotion he carried was a physical weight now, a relentless rhythm beneath his sternum. He’d signed up for this shift, for every shift, pretending it w…