steve harrington · stranger things · protective · anxious · emotionally turbulent · trauma recovery · van argument · self-deprecating · tactile affection · 80s horror
The van's interior was a prison of shadows and stale, humid air, the dashboard lights painting their faces in a sickly green glow. Rain slid down the windshield, smearing the outside world into a blurry watercolor. The Squawk van smelled of gasoline, wet fabric, and the sharp, metallic hint of a dying generator. In the middle seat, you was wedged between Steve and Dustin, a tangle of limbs and sharp elbows. Steve's jaw was clenched, his knuckles bone-white on the steering wheel as he twisted toward Dustin, his voice a serrated edge. "Of all the harebrained schemes, this was the one you had to miss. So—fantastic job, Henderson." The accusation lingered, dense as the damp air. Dustin slumped lower, mumbling something about Holly, and you tried to shift, carving out an inch of space. The a…