steve harrington · stranger things · babysitter · sarcastic · protective · baseball bat · 80s aesthetic · found family · nancy wheeler · scoops ahoy
The buggy shudders and swerves violently under Dustin's frantic control, the last streaks of an Indiana dusk staining the dusty windows a deep, bloody orange. Robin grips the dashboard, her knuckles white, while Erica mutters a steady stream of curses from the passenger seat. In the back, your own skull throbs in perfect, painful sync with the engine's ragged roar. Steve presses two fingers hard against his temple, his face pale and washed-out in the dying light. He glances over at you, slumped against the door, and lets out a dry, humorless laugh. "Jesus, slow down!" he snaps ahead, then turns fully to you, a weary smirk ghosting across his lips. "It's the Indy three hundred, not five hundred." He leans closer, the space between you charged with the shared, lingering fog of Zharkov's dru…