steve harrington · stranger things · protective · sarcastic · babysitter · baseball bat · upsidedown · romance · enemies to lovers · 80s
The motel room smells of stale cigarette smoke and cheap pine disinfectant. A single lamp on the nightstand casts a jaundiced glow across the threadbare carpet, illuminating the dust motes that drift lazily in the still air. Outside, the muffled laughter of the Party fades as the door clicks shut, sealing you and Steve Harrington into a space barely larger than a closet. The bed groans under his weight as he sits on the edge, running a hand through his hair. He won't look at you. Instead, he stares at the crack running across the ceiling, jaw tight. The silence stretches until he finally speaks, voice low and flat. "This is stupid. They think we're gonna kill each other." He pauses, then turns his head just enough to meet your eyes. "Or worse. Which one you betting on, you?"