Flipped: A Steve Harrington Enemies to Lovers

E Pluribus Unum - Steve's POV

Tears prick in your waterline, a sob barking out your lungs at the sight of them.

"What are you doing?!" You cry in guttural anger.

"Go!" They shout together.

You plant your feet in defiance, your nails digging painfully hard into the skin of your palms, any harder and you'll draw blood.

"I'm not leaving you!"

The strain in Steve's voice tears out his throat as he burns right into you, something splintering within him when he sees how you aren't moving despite time slipping rapidly away, precious seconds which could be used to escape with Dustin and Erica.

But you still just stand there, blinking.

Steve's anguished cry is the one thing to get you to leave, "Y/N, the kids come first, now go!"

"But-"

"-GO!"

Spurred by this final scream, you start into action. You jump a little, before peeling away from your two friends by the door and towards the kids. You scoop them up, one under each arm like a protective mama bear with her cubs, and they whine in protest as you carry them off into a vent.

"I won't forget you!" Dustin calls back before crawling away to safety.

The tension in Steve's jaw relaxes by a mere fraction, upon seeing you disappear from view. You're gone. Dustin's gone. Erica's gone.

You've got a better chance of not dying in this hellhole. And that, is all Steve needs to know.

That's when the Russians finally burst through. Big burly crowds of them forming an impenetrable wall around the pair, guns cocked, pointed right at them. He and Robin have no choice but to raise their palms and surrender, keep their heads ducked low and pray for a miracle.

***

If Steve had a nickel for every time he's had his head caved in for being involved in something he shouldn't... well, he'd have exactly 3 nickels. But still, it's not something he ever hoped to become a tradition.

Unfortunately, the pain isn't something he thinks he'll ever get used to, especially when the Russian guard who interrogates him lands a debilitating blow to his freshly swollen eye.

A deep shade of purple has settled around it, the bulging flesh smarting painfully against the coolness of the air in the cell where he's held, away from Robin. God knows where she is right now; Steve hopes she's alright.

He licks along his lip, which is burst - a sharp, persistent stinging setting every nerve ending alight along the delicate curve of his smile, disrupted by the rupture in the skin.

His vision is clouded red with blood in result of the bloodshot eye he's been so generously awarded throughout this seemingly endless ordeal.

Endless because, despite his earnestness and efforts, despite keeping a brave face against the odds, he's not getting anywhere.

"Who do you work for?" The guard repeats.

"For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy!"

"Scoops Ahoy." The guard echoes, unconvinced.

Steve tips his head back and groans, his frustration reaching boiling point, "What the hell?! Look at my outfit! You think I just wear this?! Think I'm a spy in a sailor's uniform?" He gestures to himself, a piqued hysteria jangling in his tone of voice.

"How did you get in?"

"I already told you. I told you before," Steve whines, inhaling a very deep breath, "My delivery didn't come, and my friends and I, we thought that it was left at the loading dock, so we went in the room, and then it turned into an elevator, and then..." He pauses to think. "And then we dropped and then, next thing we know, I open my eyes, and we're in this... wonderful facility."