ONCE AGAIN: YOU DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE WATCHED STRANGER THINGS TO READ THIS STORY!
flustered dreams (moony) A/N: aaauuuuugh I am completely in love with Stranger Things (if you haven't watched it, you should check it out! :) ) and of course I'm in love with KOTLC, sooo... This just came about, haha.
Turns out, both Someonewhodoesntcare and I both had Stranger Things + KOTLC crossovers in our drafts and then we were like, "hmmm... this could work."
*smirks*
Disclaimer: We do not own KOTLC or Stranger Things.
(the following section was written by flustered dreams)
SOMETHING TO NOTE: Barb is a *kind-of* OC
"Something is coming. . . Something hungry for blood." Fitz paused and watched his friends' faces, watched as their eyes went slightly wide and they waited silently for him to continue. "A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness." Biana was biting her lip, Keefe was smirking deviously as if he was completely prepared for whatever was coming and Dex was drumming his fingers on the table, watching. "It. . ." he continued slowly, "is almost here."
"What is it?" Dex asked, eyes twinkling nervously.
"What if it's the Demogorgon?" Keefe flopped back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon."
Biana crinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. "It's not the Demogorgon."
"An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!" Fitz interjected dramatically.
"Troglodytes?" Keefe questioned, leaning forward, clearly shocked.
"Told ya," Biana gloated.
They all laughed except Fitz, so they stopped abruptly and stared at him.
"Wait a minute," Fitz drawled out slowly, putting a hand to his ear as his forehead creased in confusion. "Did you hear that? That-that sound? Boom boom boom! That didn't come from the troglodytes. No, that. . .That came from something else." His friends watched him anxiously, the tension nearly ripping them apart. "The Demogorgon!" he exclaimed finally, pulling a figurine from behind his back and slamming it onto the board game.
Keefe flung his arms up dramatically. "We're in deep shit."
"Dex, your action!" Fitz shouted, pointing at him, trying to continue to move the game along. His mom would be yelling at him to go to bed, soon.
"I don't know!" Dex yelled back in a flustered hurry.
"Fireball him!" Biana suggested frantically.
He shook his strawberry-blonde head. "I'd have to roll a 13 or higher!" he countered.
"Too risky," Keefe agreed. "Cast a protection spell."
"Don't be a pussy," Biana teased. "Fireball him!"
"Cast Protection," he protested back, crossing his arms. Biana stuck out her tongue and the two clearly didn't notice how much they were stressing Dex out. This was a big move.
"The Demogorgon is tired of your silly elven bickering! It stomps towards you. Boom!"
"Fireball him!" she repeated more frantically.
"Another stomp, boom!"
"Cast. Protection!"
"He roars in anger!"
"Fireball!"
Dex reached forward hurriedly and grabbed the dice, deciding on the fireball gamble. He threw the dice swiftly, not really wanting to see what he got, but the dice flung off the table and scattered somewhere. "Oh, shit!" Dex exclaimed.
"Where'd it go?! Where is it?" Biana shouted, jumping up from her chair like everyone else as they scrambled to find the dice, eager to see the numbers that had been rolled.
Dex rummaged around everything, accidentally flipping over a chair. "I don't know!"
"Was it a thirteen?!" Keefe asked.
"I don't know!"
"Where is it?!"
"Ohmygod,ohmygod,ohmygod!"
"Fitz!" his mother suddenly called from the upstairs floor. He rolled his eyes and groaned as everyone continued to frantically search for the die. "Fitzroy!"
"Can you find it yet?!" Biana questioned.
"No, I can't find it!" Dex replied snappily.
"Fitz!" his mother called again, this time opening the door to the basement so that the sounds of the friends practically tearing up the whole basement reverberated upstairs. Fitz stood from his spot on the floor where her had been searching on his hands and knees, then ran to the bottom of the stairs, looking up at his mom.
"Ohmygod,ohmygod,ohmygod!" Keefe continued to shout.
"Mom!" Fitz protested, knowing immediately what his mother was going to ask. "We're in the middle of a campaign!"
She shook her head and laughed. "You mean the end?" She tapped her wrist like there was a watch on it. "Fifteen after." With that, she closed the door, leaving Fitz to groan and run up after her, completely abandoning his friends and he search for the missing die.
"Oh, my god! Freaking idiot!" Biana complained grouchily.
Fitz appeared upstairs and closed the door behind him, his ears definitely thankful for not being bombarded by the screams from the basement. "Mom, just wait twenty more minutes!" he pled, walking into the kitchen where his mother was stationed. Fitz's dad was fiddling with the TV in the background, obviously trying to get it to work. Alas, Fitz knew it was probably a lost cause-the damn thing was always breaking.
"But that'll ruin the flow!" he whined.
"Fitzroy, I'm serious," Della stated with her eyebrows raised.
"Mom," he began again, "the campaign took two weeks to plan! How was I supposed to know it was gonna take ten hours?"
Della's eyes flew open. "You've been playing for ten hours?"
He grimaced mentally , realizing his mistake, then turned to his dad who was in the living room, still attempting (but failing) to fix the TV. "Dad, don't you think that twenty more-"
Without looking at Fitz, he interjected, "I think you should listen to your mother." He mumbled something incoherently and hit the TV with his fist, groaning. "Dang dumb piece of junk."
Fitz rolled his eyes, heading back for the basement.
Downstairs, Dex came across the die, grasping it triumphantly in her palm as he smiled and stood. "Oh, I got it! Does the seven count?" he asked Keefe and Biana.
"It was a seven?" Biana repeated."Did Fitz see it?"
Dex shook his head at her and she replied. "Then it doesn't count."
They all nodded in agreement and began packing up. Keefe grabbed a pizza box after he put his backpack over his shoulders. "Yo, hey, guys? Does anyone want this?"
In unision, both Biana and Dex rejected the last slices and Keefe shrugged, heading upstairs. He passed through the living room, watching Fitz's dad trying to fix the TV before walking up the stair to the second level and heading to a room where the door was open, but he still remained in the hall. He saw a girl inside, talking on the phone while laying on her stomach on her bed, propped up on her elbows as she twisted the pink phone cord, flashing white teeth as she long blonde hair was out of its usual ponytail and was splayed all down her back. "Yeah," she spoke into the phone. "No, I don't think. . . Yeah, he's cute. Barb, no, I don't think so. Barb, you're not-"
Keefe knocked on the frame of the door, holding up the open box. "Hey, Jolie. There's a slice left if you want it. Sausage and pepperoni!"
Jolie looked over to him and said into the phone, "Hold on," before setting it down and rising off the bed, walking over to the door. She appraoched and put her hand on the door, one hand in her pocket. Keefe grinned and she smiled back. . . right before slamming the door in his face.
(the following section was written by flustered dreams)
Keefe shook his head, joining his friends who were gathered outside, ready to leave. Well, all except for Fitz of course, namely because he lived there.
"There's something wrong with your step sister," Keefe whistled.
"What are you talking about?" Fitz questioned, raising a brow.
"She's got a stick up her butt."
Biana snorted. "Yeah, that's because she's been dating that douchebag, Alvar Harrington or whatever."
Keefe nodded, getting his bike ready to ride home just like the rest of them were. "Yeah, she's turning into a real jerk."
Fitz scowled. "She's always been a real jerk."
"Nuh-uh," Keefe protested. "She used to be cool."
Biana, Keefe and Dex both hopped on their bikes and Biana and Keefe began to ride off. "Like that time she dressed up for that campaign we were hosting," he contniued.
"Four years ago!" Fitz yelled to him.
"Just sayin!"
"Later," Biana called.
Dex stayed behind for a moment, watching the two ride off down the paved street, the sky black as ink. "It was a seven," he spoke up quietly.
Fitz frowned, turning to him on the driveway. "Huh?"
"The roll," he clarified, "It was a seven. The Demogorgon, it got me. . . See you tomorrow."
As Dex began to catch up with Biana and Keefe, the garage lights flickered. Fitz turned off the lights and headed back inside, pushing the button to close the garage door.
Biana started to turn down a differnt street, towards where her house was, which meant she had to part ways with the boy. "Good night, ladies," she singsonged teasingly.
"Kiss your mom 'night for me!" Keefe joked back, before turning his head back to the road before him and smirking, glancing over at Dex. "Race you back to my place? Winner gets any comic."
Dex grinned, flashing white teeth. "Any comic?"
"Yeah."
Dex suddenly sped ahead of Keefe, peddling harder and faster as Keefe struggled to catch up in a frenzy. "Hey! Hey! I didn't say "go"! Get back here! I'm gonna kill you!"
Dex sped past Keefe's house, chuckling to himself. "I'll take your X-Men 134!" he shouted as he continued t speed away to his own house. Keefe stopped in front of his own, panting. "Son of a bitch."
Dex continued towards on the road to his house to where the neighborhood street lights were behind him and there were wooded areas on either side of the paved path he was on. On a fence he passed, there were some blazing yellow signs which shown slightly in the light of the front of his bike. The first curiously read, "HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY/U.S. DEPARTMENT OF ENERGY" and the second, "RESTRICTED AREA/NO TRESPASSING/U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY".
Suddenly, his bike light flickered off.
Dex frowned as he continued to pedal, looking down momentarily at his bike light. It flickered on just in time for Dex to look up and spot a large, tall, skinny figure in the middle of the road. Dex gasped, air suddenly caught in his throat as he veered off the road and crashed.
His ankle bent unnaturally, but not so much that it snapped or twisted, but is sure was sore. His hair had massive amounts or dirt in it, now, as well as a couple of dead orange leaves, and his clothes were covered with soil and grass stains. With his heart ramming against his rib cage, he glanced up to see the figure approaching and he noticed that whoever they were, they had unnaturally long arms and a very slim form.
He stood up swiftly, abandoned his bike and sprinted into the forest, his adrenaline pumping through his veins. Finally reaching his house, he bolted inside, and slammed the wooden door shut before locking it. He looked around for his mom or brother, his heart dropping to his knees as his stomach churned like a tsunami. "Mom? before he watched out the front window of the house as he took the phone off the wall and held onto the cord like a lifeline after he dialed 911, his breathing ragged and heavy as his wide eyes stared outside. "Hello? Hello?" he asked into the phone, but all he received from the other end of the phone was complete static and he tried to dial the number again, but was only rewarded with the same chilling result of the first try. His dog started barking manically in the backyard and his eyes shot to out the window to see the streetlight flickering at the end of his driveway as the figure appeared and started approaching the house with low strides.
He backed against the wall, still clutching the phone in his white-knuckled grasp as it went up to the front door.
Surely they can't get in. The door is locked, he thought.
But it was as if the thought had jinxed the situation for reasons which Dex did not know and could not explain, the lock started to undo itself from the inside, as if an invisible hand were opening it from the inside of the house, welcoming the figure into the house.
Dex dropped the phone and left it hanging on the wall from the now bouncing cord and bounded down his hallway to the door that led into the backyard. He shoved it open forcefully, nearly breaking off the doorknob as she sped down the oak stairs, glancing over momentarily to see his dog going completely nuts on the chain the held him to the dog house. He plundered into the shed before retrieving a shotgun from the wall and desperately trying to load it as his hands and arms shook violently. Sadly, he knew it wasn't from the cold. Whoever this was had him scared out of his wits.
Who followed a twelve-year old boy home at night and tried to enter his house?
He loaded it successfully and pointed it towards the door, still shaking. After a few moments of nothing happening, he thought that maybe the mysterious intruder had just left, but then he heard growling from the back of the shed and he slowly lowered the gun and turned around, his eyes widening at what he saw.
That couldn't be. . .
The growling turned to sharp screeching before the one light bulb hanging from the ceiling of the shed began to grow bright and brighter before the white light blinded him and swallowed the entire inside of the shed into a colorless oblivion before flickering out completely.
And with the light going out, Dexter Dizznee vanished without a trace.
(the following section was written by flustered dreams)
"And that's it for News Center this morning. Thanks for joining us. Let's hand off now to Liz at the news desk."
"All right, thank you, Donna. Turning now to local news, we're getting reports of surges and power outages all across the county. Last night, hundreds of homes in East Hawkins were affected, leaving many residents in the dark. The cause of the outage is still unknown. We reached out to Roane County Water and Electric, and a spokesperson says that they are confident power will be restored to all remaining homes within the next several hours. Mmm."
Kesler lay asleep on his couch, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping deeply as his TV blared the news. A dog barked somewhere off in the distance, most likely the neighbor's damn dog, waking him up abruptly. He blinked multiple times before running a hand down his face and getting up, sighing and glancing down at his watch. He resisted the urge to yawn, realizing he had to get up and leave for work. The police station waited for no man-especially not the chief.
He went through his usual morning routine swiftly, which consisted of him taking a shower, brushing his teeth, taking the pills his doctor had prescribed, and his favorite: standing on his porch, looking out at the brilliant lake while smoking a satisfying cigarette. But he doubted he had time to dillydally, so he took his quick smoke and trudged back inside, putting on his badge to his unform, slipping his gun in his holster, and placing his hat upon his head.
"In other news, you might wanna stay home tonight or at least pack an umbrella. We turn to everybody's favorite morning weather guy, Charles."
(the following section was written by flustered dreams)
Juline rummaged throughout the house, desperately searching for her lost keys. She groaned as she looked under everything, even cereal boxes. She groaned, clearly annoyed. "Where the hell are they?" she muttered to herself. "Brant?" she called to her oldest son who was currently working on preparing breakfast in the kitchen. "Check the couch!" he yelled back, already knowing what her problem was.
She flopped her hands down at her sides dramatically, wandering over to the couch cushions and beginning to stick her hands between them. "I did," she answered grouchily, right before her face lit up as her hands hit something and she pulled the mystery item out, glad to see they were her keys. "Oh, I got them." She walked into the kitchen, ready to tell her son goodbye. "Okay sweetie, I will see you tonight."
He smiled. "Yeah, see you later."
She nodded, ready to turn away and leave for work before she frowned. "Where's Dex?"
Brant did a double-take of his mother, glancing from her to the frying pan. "Oh, I didn't wake him up yet. He's probably still sleeping."
She started making her way toward the hallway to Dex's room, taking long strides. "Brant, you have to make sure he's up!"
"Mom, I'm making breakfast," he countered, gesturing to the food in the pan on the stove.
Juline walked down to the end of the hallway and turned to the door on the right, knocking on the dark wood with her fist. "Dex,honey, come on. It's time to get up."
Her lips twitched downwards when she didn't hear anything. No rummaging, no bed creaking as her son got up. . . Nothing. He didn't even say that he was up.
She twisted the doorkno and pushed the door open, her eyes scanning over the room for her son. She entered back into the kitchen, looking at her oldest son with a pointed look of confusion, hoping he had the answer she was seeking. "He came home last night, right?"
Brant turned around, raising his eyebrows, his focus completely off his food. "He's not in his room?"
"Did he come home or not?"
Brant swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he turned back to the eggs. "I don't know."
Her eyes widened. "You don't know?" she repeated, horrified.
"No. I got home late. I was working," he clarified.
"You were working?"
"Eric asked if I could cover. I said yeah. I just thought we could use the extra cash," he said truthfully.
"Brant, we've talked about this," she scolded lightly.
"I know. . ." he muttered, stirring the scrambled eggs in the pan.
"You can't take shifts while I'm working," she continued, much to Brant's annoyance. But he didn't show it. "Mom, it's not a big deal. He was at the Wheeler's house all day. Y'know, Fitz and Jolie? Their house? I'm sure he just stayed the night," he assured.
"I can't believe you. I can't believe you sometimes," she muttered. However, what he said did bring up a valid point. Juline rushed to the phone one the wall after Brant brought up the Wheeler's and she clutched the phone cord, wrapping it around her finger as she dialed Della's number with her shaky hand.
Della picked up the phone on the other end, hoping that whoever was calling couldn't hear the chaos ensuing in the background. Her kids were bickering at the table while eating their breakfast and much to anyone's surprise, it was the two older kids. Amy, young as she was, was sitting and eating her breakfast like an angel sent straight from heaven. Fitz and Jolie were. . . something else.
Fitz was pouring a large amount of syrup on his pancakes and Jolie crinkled her nose. "That's disgusting," she griped.
"You're disgusting," Fitz shot back, mimicking a whiny tone. Jolie stuck her pink tongue out at her brother, stabbing her food with her fork when he gave her the bird underneath the table. He smirked at her reaction.
Della sighed and rolled her eyes. "Hello?" she asked as cheerily as possible into the phone.
"Hi, Della. It's Juline."
"Oh, Juline, hi," Della greeted.
Della heard a slight shriek and turned around to see Fitz dumping practically half the bottle of syrup onto Jolie's plate. "What the hell, Fitz?" she hissed.
Grady was at the other end of the table and he stopped eating his food, "Hey!" he called out, ready to scold his daughter for the language use. They didn't like when their children swore even slightly in the house, but outside they didn't really seem to care what came out of their mouths. Well. . . that, or they just did not realize that they basically swore all day long while they were away at school and what not.
"Quiet!" Della yelled out, but no one really seemed to notice.
"Language," Grady continued.
"Are you kidding?" Jolie scoffed, gesturing wildly to her plate and to Fitz. Her father didn't seem to really care. Of course, it wasn't the end of the world or anything.
"Was that Dex I heard back there?" Juline's voice asked through the phone.
Della was brought back to the realization that she was still on the phone. She had kind of gotten side-tracked with the recklessness of her two children. "Dex? No, no, no. It's just Fitz."
Juline went a little pale. "Dex didn't spend the night?"
"No, he left here a little after 8:00. Why? He's not home?"
She swallowed before blinking profusely. "You know what? I think he just left early for. . . for school. Thank you so much. Bye."
Juline hung up abruptly, leaving Della confused as ever. "O-Okay. Bye."
Juline and Brant both exchanged worried glances.
(the following section was written by Someonewhodoesntcare)
Fitz, Biana, and Keefe pedalled over to the bile rack before coming to a stop. Fitz frowned as he scanned the area for Dex, wondering where their red headed friend could be. "That's weird— I don't see him," he commented, scrunching his eyebrows and looking around once more.
Biana pushed her kickstand down with her heel and proceeded to lock up her bike, rolling her eyes at her brother's overdramatic speculations. "I'm telling you, his mom's right; he probably just went early again," she assured him, clicking the lock shut.
"Yeah," Keefe spoke up with a slight chuckle in his tone as he too finished locking up his own bike. "He's always paranoid that Lady Cadence is going to give him another pop quiz."
"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!"
Groaning, Fitz, Biana and Keefe shared an annoyed glance before reluctantly turning around to see the grinning faces of Stina and Maruca. "Step right up and get your tickets to the freakshow!"
The three didn't say anything as they stared at the two grinning faces of pure evil. Stina and Maruca bullied their group regularly, so it wasn't anything they weren't already used to. The only thing they could really do was just bear with it until the jerks got bored.
Stina stalked towards their way, looking at each of them with a smirk. "Who do you think would make more money in the freakshow?" She mused before stepping right up to Biana. "The Princess," she gave Biana's shoulder a harsh shove before stepping over to Fitz. "Mr. Golden Boy," she shoved his shoulder hard as well, then stepped over to Keefe. "Or, 'Unwanted'?" she griped, shoving Keefe the hardest.
Fitz glared at them as Keefe drew in a sharp breath at the crude name while they laughed. Everybody knew that Keefe's parents were ridiculously hard on him, especially his father. He had gotten the name 'Unwanted' because of how his parents constantly treated him like shit; even in public.
Although Biana and Fitz's "names" weren't nearly as bad, they still struck close to home in a different way. Biana's was pronounced as "the Princess" due to everybody perceiving her as a petty, little try-hard who was too confident all the time. Fitz's was "Golden Boy" because everybody accused and expected him to be perfect all the time, and Stina knew he couldn't stand that. She had taken the one thing that bothered them the most and dubbed it upon them. Only she could really make them feel as small as they felt.
Maruca seemed to think it over a little, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her index finger, before pointing it over to Keefe. "I'd go with 'Unwanted' over there," she decided, snickering to herself. Then she proceeded to mock him. "Oh mommy, daddy, love me, please! I promise I'll be a better son!" She cried out in a fake whiny tone, causing the two instigators to burst out into laughter.
Keefe balled his hands into fists and downcasts his eyes, looking as if he were trying to hold back tears. Fitz could obviously tell this was hurting him. "Just leave us alone, Stina," he snapped at her, causing the girl to look up and sneer at him. "I don't answer to you, Vacker," she spat—literally, spat at their feet, much to their disgust. Fitz sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just leave us alone," he muttered, gesturing for his friends to follow him as he walked away. "C'mon guys, let's go."
Stina and Maruca mocked them as they retreated to the back of the school. Once they were out of sight, Biana huffed and crossed her arms in annoyance. "Assholes," she grumbled contemptuously. Fitz shrugged, heaving out a sigh. "Some people are just born mouthbreathers," he added, running a hand through his hair.
Keefe didn't say anything—he only continued to glare down at his feet. Fitz gave him a sympathetic look. "Just ignore them, okay? They're just trying to get to you," he said soothingly, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. After a while of silence, Keefe sighed and tentatively touched his hand, receiving the vast amount of comfort and care that Fitz was trying to harness inside of himself for the other boy to receive.
The blonde managed to give his friend a small smile. "Thanks, man," he said gratefully, and Fitz smiled in return. Beside them, Biana smirked. "Okay lover boys, break it up—we have class to go to," she said, snickering slightly when the two rolled their eyes at her. Giving his sister a shove, which she promptly returned, Fitz just shook his head and the three began to head inside the school building.