𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄. She claimed she wanted nothing to do with the money the mayor had given them and urged—or demanded, but that wasn’t Letitia’s personality—them to turn it in to the police immediately. While Steve stayed silent, Scout assured her that they would, even if the hesitation in his voice worried him a little bit.
They had left Steve’s car a little ways away from the outskirts of Night Vale, and it wasn’t long before the two boys were seated and the senior had gunned the engine, taking off the dirt path onto the empty road in a cloud of dirt. He held the steering wheel at the bottom with just his pointer finger, but the hand in his lap was wrapped in a bloodless fist.
Within the car, everything was quiet. The only noise between them was their breathing and the stuttering noises of the tires gripping to the road as they raced past trees taller than skyscrapers and air as still as a tomb. He was glad they weren’t walking anymore, he’d done enough of that for one day, but something about Steve’s expression made the blond shift in his seat. He didn’t know Steve Harrington, not really. Apart from passing glances in the halls in school, Scout only knew Steve from his reputation—and it seemed that reputation, that particularly violent reputation was gearing to be aimed at someone soon; that someone might be him.
“You okay?”
From his right, Steve shifted in his seat. His expression was empty, but his eyes carried a hollow, deeper meaning Scout didn’t understand. His face forward and eyes on the road, his loosens just enough for his thumb to move back and forth across his fist as if feeling for a callous.
“No. Yes? I-I don’t know,” Steve answered, shaking his head slightly at his own failed response. In a pause, his eyes narrowed and his teeth grazed his bottom lip before letting out a short, pained sigh. “That didn’t—that didn’t answer my questions. I mean, did it for you? That guy, he didn’t really tell us anything, or-or tell us about the ring.”
“No,” Scout agreed, frowning as he remembered their odd interaction, all too aware of the duffle bag stuffed underneath his seat, “And like, why though? Why wouldn’t he just tell us about her and the ring if he didn’t want us to know, you know?”
When the sound of a scoff rang through the car, Scout’s determined expression faltered. “What?”
Steve shrugged, eyes ahead. “Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing, because less than a moment later he spoke, as if bursting to say what he wanted to say. “Just—you were kinda eager to tell him everything. He was super weird and you just like, blurted everything out, didn’t even bother to lie.”
“Oh? And how would you have done it?” Although he didn’t mean to, Scout’s voice immediately shifted into a defensive tone. “How else were we gonna find out anything, just sit there and expect him to tell us everything? He was gonna wanna know why, so I told him, alright? Just drop it.”
“You could’ve at least left me out of it,” the brunette said sharply, his eyes darting to his passenger.
“You didn’t,” he said simply, a tone of finality lingering after he spoke that the senior didn't seem to understand.
“What?”
Scout would have laughed at the guy’s stupidity if he hadn’t been ticked off. “Dude, the first thing you told him was that Dawn knew my mom in high school. You sold me out first, and then I just explained everything in the office, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Kinda seems like it,” Steve muttered, running his finger over the steering wheel’s leather material in thought, bringing up his unoccupied hand to run it through his hair. “Guess...Guess I didn’t think of that.”
The blond made a face, something between grimace and a jaw drop, as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind. There was nothing else to say, anyway, so they simply sat there in silence as the conversation came to a halt, leaving nothing between them other than awkward accusations and darting glances.
“This,” Scout said, breaking the silence and waving his hands between the two of them, “Is weird. Can we just—can you take me home? I don’t—”
“Yeah, no, sure,” Steve agreed quickly, nodding, “You don’t have to—you know. I get it.”
Did he though? Last time he checked, he and Steve weren’t friends. They weren’t even acquaintances, for God’s sake, what with Steve’s rise in popularity in middle school—hell, the guy was popular even in elementary, thay how long King Steve’s reign had been before Billy Hargrove burst in last year. Thrown in the added year between them and Scout felt as if he were sitting next to a stranger. A dick, more like, he reminded himself, thinking of the senior’s reputation and how big of an asshole he’d been to Nancy Wheeler and Jonathon Byers before something happened between them and they made up. The rumors weren’t quite sure about that, leaving Scout and the rest of Hawkins High in the dark about King Steve’s true intentions. Some said he was different, didn’t hang out with Tommy H. and Carol anymore, and maybe that was why; but he hadn’t really believed it until he was sitting right in front of him. Or rather, beside him.
“Hey,” the brunette said suddenly, maneuvering the car into the parking lot of a Burger King not too far from his own house, “Do you wanna, you know…” He motioned his hand towards the huge cartoon sign above them as that finished his sentence. “We can return the money after, right? I mean, who’s gonna know if we even took from it, you know?”
“Er...I, uh…”
Steve took his brief stammer as an answer. In one swift motion, he tugged the duffel bag from under the seat and opened the zipper, his eyes flashing a fleeting quint of greed Scout wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been staring at his every move. He pulled a single hundred-dollar bill from one of the stacks and pocketed, grinning. “Let’s have the finest meal Burger King has to offer.”
○ ○ ○
It was only until they’d retrieved their trays of food when Scout realized just how hungry he was. His stomach growled so loudly he thought everyone in the diner could hear, blushing as he carefully sat down in a booth across from Steve Harrington, raising an eyebrow when he saw the brunette practically inhaling his own burger.
“What?” Steve said with his mouth full, “Don’t judge man, I haven’t eaten since like yesterday.”
The blond took a few fries and dipped them into his milkshake. “Why not?”
“Forgot to, I guess,” he admitted once he’d swallowed, giving a distant, almost reluctant, “I was so focused on why the hell some dead lady in Night Vale had my dad’s ring that I just...didn’t think of anything else. Probably why I’m so damn starved now.”
“Hey, Steve,” is what comes out of Scout’s mouth, and he’s just as surprised as the Harrington. His mouth was dry, but at least he was talking; he was tempted to instead grab his milkshake and chug it until he had no breath left in him, but tamped down the feeling bubbling in his chest. “Can I ask you something?”
“Huh?” he answered, confusion beginning to cross his features as he looked up at the boy in front of him. “Um, sure. Shoot.”
Trying to appear nonchalant, Scout gave a light shrug, his gaze focused on his own food. “You’re not as much of an asshole as I thought you’d be.”
“That’s not a question,” Steve pointed out, but his eyes say otherwise. Their dark brown raise to meet his blue, and although there’s a questioning confusion to them, he didn’t say anything, only offering, “Um, thanks, I guess?”
“”Er—you know what I mean,” the blond elaborates, nearly choking on his burger in an effort to explain himself, “You’re supposed to be a grade-A asshole, with your whole crowd. You know, Tommy, Carol. What happened with them?”
A bitter look crossed the brunette’s face. “Carol could be pimping herself at her dad’s company for all I care. Tommy’s probably in jail,” he all but growls from his side of the table. “Never really liked them anyway.”
“Seriously?” Scout found that hard to believe. “You hung out with them since like, middle school.”
“I told them to go to hell,” Steve added, a small grin forming as he took a swig of his Slurpee, “Doubt they’d be eager to hang out after that.”
The blond couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He was glad the couple had been told off, even if it hadn’t been by him. There was hardly a single person they didn’t taunt, from golden girl Nancy Wheeler to Letitia and himself. The words never meant anything of course, nothing he hadn’t heard before, but that didn’t mean they were any easier to hear. The ridicule seemed to ease as of late, though, he noticed with a start, glancing at Steve again, wondering if he had anything to do with it. Maybe the douchebag from school had really changed after all.
“Knocked them down a peg,” Scout said approvingly, taking another bite of his food, “I’m glad you did.”
If he hadn’t been so busy averting his eyes after his comment, Scout would have noticed the curious look in Steve’s eyes as he glanced at the blond’s face in front of him, as if he couldn’t quite place the meaning of his words. Part of him was hoping he wouldn’t ask, but as luck would have it…
“Did they say anything to you?” Steve asked, and if he didn’t know better, Scout would have thought a look of genuine concern crossed his face.
“Nothing to my face,” Scout admitted, “But it’s not like that wasn’t it, you know? I didn’t have it as bad as other people, though. Almost like I’m lucky that way.”
He certainly didn’t feel lucky. But then again, there he was sitting at Burger King in a booth across from Steve Harrington, and Night Vale or his mother or even the money they used to pay for their meal had even crossed his mind in several minutes. Suddenly, at the sound of what his brain registers as plastic hitting plastic, Scout jumps with a start, despite the noise not being all that loud to begin with, realizing the sound was only the brunette slamming his now empty tray atop a trash bin a few feet away. He was more distracted than he thought; Steve had all but finished and gotten up without him ever realizing he was staring at the blank wall behind near the door instead of the actual human being that had been sitting across from him only moments before.
The smell of cheap alcohol pinches the blond’s nostrils as he climbs in the car—after throwing away the rest of his food and Steve pocketing their change, but not before Scout insisted they leave their waitress a large tip—and he couldn’t help but exhale in surprise; he hadn’t noticed the smell before. Turns out, he wasn’t crazy, but Steve Harrington certainly was, for said person was raising a flask to his lips and chugging its contents as if he was expecting a prize at the state fair. It wasn’t until it seemed he emptied the thing and wiped his mouth with his sleeve—droplets of drink no doubt flying everywhere—that the senior noticed Scout was staring at him.
“What?” he asked, oblivious to the frown aimed directly at his person, misinterpreting the look and offering Scout the flask, “You want some?”
Surprised—but not taken back—by his offer, Scout merely frowned deeper and shook his head, scoffing lightly at the shrug he got in return, watching Steve down the rest of the contents before twisting the cap shut. He reached over and tried to open the glove compartment, only to be blocked by the blond’s legs. “You mind?” he asked, giving him an expectant look, earning a flushed “No,” in return as the brunette pulled out a false bottom and placed the flask underneath what Scout presumed to be the car’s papers.
“I never asked my question,” the blond mentioned, flipping a hand through his fringe before letting it settle over his right eye, eyeing his companion intently.
To his surprise, Steve gave a small scoff. But instead of asking what he really wanted to know, Scout thought back to everything he’d heard of the boy beside him, suddenly remembering why they’d never spoken before. It wasn’t a coincidence. Steve was just an asshole.
Scout’s words tasted bitter as they came from his mouth in a sharp jolt. “How’s it feel to have a new king of Hawkins High?” They rush out with meaning he never used to have intention of uttering, but newfound confidence says otherwise.
“What’s your problem, man?” Steve didn’t answer the question, and it only fueled his irritation. “The hell do you want me to say anyway, Hargrove’s got nothing on me. He’s a dick.”
Doing his best to appear nonchalant, the blond simply shrugged. “Guess King Bee’s reign pisses you off more than I thought.”
If he had been watching their exchange in a movie theatre, Scout was convinced he would have laughed at Steve’s reaction. Instantaneous and charged, the Harrington wiped his nose and turned in his seat to face the blond, staring him dead in the eyes as if they hadn’t just shared a meal only moments before. He knew it was his fault, but making the royal bully of Hawkins High School mad was something Scout was sure he would look back on later and laugh. But later was not now, and now included sitting across from a royally pissed off seventeen-year-old who no doubt knew how to beat someone up. Hell, the guy did it himself on a daily basis.
“Okay, what the hell do you want from me, man.” The words themselves are phrased as a question, demand an answer but Steve’s tone made it clear otherwise.
As if he’s signing his death wish, the blond offered nothing but a wordless shrug, giving the impression that his unanticipated interrogation has come to end. Then, just as soon as his fingers graze the keys in the ignition, “Didn’t think you were the type to do anything about it.”
“Okay, fuck you,” Steve snapped, turning the keys in the ignition harder than necessary, slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel when, miraculously, it didn’t start. “Come on you piece of shit, start!”
“Calm down!” In the back of his mind, Scout reminded himself that his house wasn’t too far away; he could get there relatively fine—a far better alternative than going anywhere with Steve Harrington anyway. “God, you’re so full of shit, you know that?”
This time, the Harrington’s scoff is nowhere near as light or casual as his previous one. “Oh, yeah? Like you’re any better, Scout. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Trying to rake up popularity points? In case you haven’t noticed dipshit, I’m just as much of a loser as you are.”
“Shut up!” Scout retorted, clenching his hands and wishing he had his drumsticks—whaling on some drums never failed to make him feel better—wishing he were anywhere but there. This whole thing was a mistake. “For once in your life—”
“Bite me,” Steve snapped.
“Eat shit!” Scout returned.
But before the boys could say anything else—before Scout acted on his impulsive urge to mess up that pretty face once and for all—a single wail of a police siren snaps them back to reality, where they’re sitting in the front seat of a car, windows down, in the middle of the Burger King parking lot. A quick knowing glance between them erases their argument, leaving only thoughts of panic and feigned nonchalance, hoping the cruiser will simply pass through the drive-thru and drive away. No such luck, however, because it seemed to be heading directly their way.
Without a moment to lose, Scout ducked down onto the—surprisingly roomy—floor of the car, a groan of disgust escaping his lips when he took notice of the kind of trash littering the floor. Figuring he had better problems than the cleanliness of Steve Harrington’s car, the blond searched frantically for the duffel bag, nearly having a heart attack when he spotted it laying casually on the backseat for all the world to see. Thankfully, the dipper was fully closed and its contents remained hidden, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Popping back up, Scout ran a hand through his hair breathlessly and twisted in his seat, eventually settling on throwing his hand over the seat’s head and facing the one person he did not want to look at. It seemed the Harrington felt the same way, but despite how they may have felt about each other, it was obvious what they didn’t want, and so they turned to each other and pretended all was well.
“Shit, they’re coming over here,” Steve whispered breathlessly, faking a smile as the police cruiser came within shouting distance, “Quick, laugh like I just said something funny.”
“What?”
“Just do it!”
At his demand, Scout let out the biggest, fakest laugh he could muster, as if he’d just heard the best joke of his life. It wasn’t worth it, though, because only a minute later did they hear the unmistakable sound of knuckles rapping the driver’s side window, leaving Steve no choice but to slap on a nonchalant grin and crank down the window.
“You boys good?” the officer on the left asked, looping his thumb through saggy hole in his belt, his shirt brushing the side of the unmistakable gun in his holster. Scout let out an involuntary shaky sigh through his lips.
Steve answered for the both of them. “All good here, officers.”
The officer raised an eyebrow, unbelieving. Hie eyes fell on Scout, who, before that moment, couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact, but was now forced to raise his gaze and give his own confirmation, inwardly cursing at his wavering voice. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good, officers.”
The one on the right nods, satisfied, but the bulky figure behind them shakes his head, nudging the two aside and resting his arms on the open window, his head ducked slightly inside the car, his face only inches from the brunette’s. He didn’t say anything, which only made Scout’s heart beat even faster, and he does the thing he was most dreading. “Whatcha got in the bag?”
With only the slightest moment of hesitation, Steve (thankfully) answered. “Oh, that’s just, um...That’s just Nancy’s stuff, I, uh, promised I would bring it to her. She left it in my car.” Then, before the blond could inwardly congratulate Steve for his quick thinking, the Harrington added in a high-pitched voice, “You know, girl stuff.”
This couldn’t be happening.
But it was, and Scout wanted to facepalm, or, at the very least, smack his head against the window until reality came crashing down and he wasn't sitting alongside Steve Harrington trying to sweet talk three police officers—three police officers that didn’t happen to know his father.
“Is that so?” The bearded officer didn’t seem to buy his excuse, and instead gave a fake tight-lipped smile. “Open the bag, Harrington.”
The other two officers seemed to be just as surprised as the boys in front of them, one of them even going so far as to make a high-pitched noise in his throat and nudge the man’s side dubiously. “Chief, you’re not seriously thinking—”
“Open the bag, kid,” Chief Hopper repeated, ignoring his colleagues’ protests and staring expectantly at the brunette, “You need me to ask again? I said show me what you’ve got in the bag.”
Don't do anything stupid, Steve. But even that was too much to ask; one moment, Steve was sighing and reaching behind him for the duffel, and the next thing he knew, the brunette had shoved the door open past the officers and tried to run, onely making it as far as the other side of the parking lot when another car pulled in, blocking his exit. By the time he’d spotted another opening to escape, he was being tackled to the ground by one of the officers chasing him, out of shape and clearly out of the breath.
As for Scout, however, he was stuck in the car as Hopper narrowed his eyes at the Harrington’s failed escape, ripping open the duffel bag’s zipper to find the money Mr. Macaulay had given them not even twenty-four hours before. It was hard to gauge his reaction, because it was only seconds before the blond was being wrenched out of the car, his arms swiftly caught by two much larger ones before he was forcibly turned and slammed against the hood of the car. A pain surged through his cheek, his forehead—everywhere, it seemed—as he groaned several times over, the snap of cool handcuffs around his wrists trapping his hands behind his back.
His entire body shook as he instantly dug his shoes into the gravel of the parking lot for some leverage, but they merely scuffed and slidded, earning him nothing but odd balance on top of his entire situation.Tears stung his eyes as vaguely heard the sound of Chief Hopper instructing his partners what to do with them, barely noticed Steve’s shouts only a few yards away.
As if he were peering through a colorless kaleidoscope, Scout’s vantage point was warped from the awkward and painful positioning of his neck on the hood of the car, the voices around him blurring into one, ominously soothing and frightening at the same time. All at once, the world began to spin, his head hurting from hitting the car and his ears ringing and the dark spots that really shouldn't be there clouding the edge of his vision, and it was only a matter of time before he realized he couldn’t hear any voice at all before he doubled over, landing somewhere between the ground and the startled officer’s arms, unconscious.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄
Me? Actually knowing where this story is going? Shit maybe — anyways here's our main mans, freaking out about being arrested and passing out from all the stress™
It ended a bit awkwardly (don't get me started on that last big ass paragraph) but tensions are finally starting to pick up a bit and they'll continue to be a bit of a rollercoaster from here on out until towards the end, emotions are running high and wild and so is Scout's perception of Steve in case you couldn't tell :)
I hope you enjoyed!