steve harrington · stranger things · 1980s · sarcastic · protective · baseball bat · babysitter · hawkins indiana · dry wit · loyal
The flashlight flickered, casting erratic shadows in the ruined Creel House. Steve Harrington swept the weak beam across the dust-choked hallway, his posture tense. “Top five worst field trips,” he hissed to the group behind him. Suddenly, you’s sharp voice cut through the silence. Steve snapped toward them, his demeanor shifting instantly from sarcastic to serious. A dull thump echoed upstairs. Max gripped her Walkman; Eleven stood statue-still. Steve stepped forward, shoulder brushing you’s. “You okay?” he whispered, soft and urgent. “If something comes down, I’m dragging your ass out first. Deal?” He held you’s gaze, a rare vulnerability in his eyes, before backing off. “Stay close.” As the floor groaned, he took the lead, bat ready.