A/N: First time writing Stonathan, I wanted to get something done for Stonathan Week and the zombie apocalypse prompt was the main one that piqued my interest. Not written a zombie AU for a while so it was fun to get back to and think about how to use it to get them together. I ticked the graphic violence warning but it's not explicitly described or anything, more the general violence implied with killing zombies with weapons.
I hope it's short but sweet (in amongst the angst). It's an AU where the zombie apocalypse happens instead of the Upside Down plots, so everyone bands together for an alternate reason and Jonathan previously only knew Steve by reputation from school.
i've got your back (and your front too)
The first words Jonathan hears Steve Harrington say during the zombie apocalypse are "Get behind me". Spoken to Will, though Steve throws Jonathan a short look like he wishes Jonathan would step back behind him too. Steve picks up the weapon Jonathan had dropped in his rush to check on Will and then Jonathan gets a front-row view of why Steve needs the space, watching him work on clearing a path to freedom. Steve's incredible with the baseball bat - brutal but beautiful in a sort of way too, in the arc of the expertly calculated swing with exacting force. The bat was wasted on Jonathan. Will has his staff made into a makeshift spear and now the bat appears to be Steve's since he makes no move to give it back once he's done. Jonathan will have to find another weapon, maybe one he's actually good with if he's lucky, but in the meantime, all he feels is relief that someone can use it well after he put so much effort into making the nail bat.
Steve sticks with them after that, which Jonathan didn't expect, to find out 'King Steve' actually cares about people. Perhaps they'd never have gotten to know each other without these extenuating circumstances, but Jonathan begins to warm up to Steve. They're so different but Steve tries to put Jonathan at ease, tries to see things his way, and Jonathan appreciates that. Few people ever ask Jonathan questions about himself, but Steve always seems genuinely interested in the answers for him and Will both. It's never hard to read Steve's emotions, he's like an open book, and he has a particular expression for when he's listening intently that Jonathan is pleased to get to know. Having new company is good and having someone who has his back is even better. It's not just him and Will against the world anymore, not just him shouldering the responsibility of getting his brother safely to their mom, wherever she is.
Their ragtag group grows as they slowly find their friends and family – the news isn't always good, but their luck is better than some. However, it's much more difficult to sneak about unheard with so many of them, they're more of a liability with every new member but Steve doesn't falter in his faith that he can protect them. The problem with Steve though, is that no one thinks about how eager Steve is to protect them, about how that doesn't automatically extend to self-protection like everyone would assume. So, when Steve locks everyone else safely on the other side of a door to a horde, using himself as bait to lure the zombies away, it's the kind of surprise that hits Jonathan squarely in his gut. He's only just gotten used to accepting Steve cares about people other than himself; he'd never expected the answer might be he only cares about other people and not himself. He wants to shake some sense into Steve but all he can do is watch Steve from the grubby window pane until he can see him no more.
They spend a few frantic hours figuring out an escape route from the mall, one that allows them to maximize collecting supplies without too much risk. All the while there's a nagging voice in Jonathan's head asking 'What about Steve? Why aren't you looking for Steve? How can you stand here doing nothing when someone you care about is in danger?'. But the logical part of Jonathan knows that if Steve isn't okay, he's been not okay for a while – the time for heroics has long since passed and Steve made sure there wouldn't be anything they could do to prevent his sacrifice. Eventually, they manage to double back to where Steve was last seen, the now fortunately empty ice cream parlor, but he's nowhere to be found.
When they finally make it out of the mall and head for high ground to survey the locale, it seems that he's not the only one with a nagging desire to wait and see if they are wrong - everyone keeps looking back to the mall and no one wants to stray further than they already have from it, so they set up camp there hopefully. Jonathan obsessively checks the mall exits with their binoculars, hoping against hope that Steve will find them again. The moment he spots a manhole cover in the parking lot shoved up and sees Steve's distinctive artfully disheveled hair emerge from those depths, he's scaling down the side of the building using their makeshift ladder and running full tilt towards Steve. He hears the others call out after him, asking him to wait for them, to wait for backup, but Jonathan just runs. He runs faster than he can ever remember running, which is saying something considering the situations they find themselves in these days. Something in him is desperate to reach Steve and he doesn't want to leave him alone for a second longer.
By the time he reaches Steve, he's panting, out of breath. There's a split-second of panic on Steve's face and Jonathan realizes how he must seem, looking possibly deranged and running right for him. Jonathan holds up a hand, waving a little, hoping that's enough to make Steve not take him for a zombie, and stops a couple of meters short of him. They stand there with Jonathan winded, unable to get words out at first. Jonathan stutters out a few mangled attempts frustratingly before he closes the distance and reaches for Steve instead, his hands grasping Steve's shoulders. Steve's arms come up to brace against Jonathan's, making for very welcome contact. They're never touched like this before. Steve doesn't shy away from encouraging pats on the arm, hands on their shoulders, high fives, or hugs with the kids, but he's never been like that with Jonathan and he'd never thought about what he was missing there. They've never been close except for in combat or hiding in tight spaces. This feels different from that, personal; like a need realized and whole before him. It feels right to hold on tight, to make sure Steve's real and safe and going nowhere without Jonathan.
"Man, am I glad to see you," Steve says, grinning at him with his usual charm. He's looking worse for wear though, bruised and bloody. There's so much blood, which he'll never get used to, and...
Suddenly, Jonathan feels a fear rise sharply in him, along with bile in his throat that he swallows back down. That terror forces his first full words out harsher than he intends. "Are you - bitten? Did they, did they - get you?" Jonathan asks franticly between his ragged breaths, feeling his control on his emotions slipping with every word. "Are you bitten? Tell me. Please, I-"
"Hey, hey," Steve says firmly but somehow still softly. His hands move quickly along Jonathan's arms until they come to curl around Jonathan's wrists like an anchor grounding him and his eyes seek Jonathan's with a concerned gaze thrown his way. "I'm okay, I'm okay. Trust me, I'm fine. They didn't get me. What do you take me for, an amateur?" he quips, throwing in a faux offended tilt of his head, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow. Even when he's pulling faces Steve looks stupidly handsome, which usually annoys him some, but Jonathan's simply too happy right now to pretend to be bothered by it. They stand like that for a short while, the air tense but not in an uncomfortable way. Until Steve drops his hands and Jonathan does the same finally, not sure if he held on to Steve for too long, if it became weird.
"I look worse than I feel. How about we get out of here?" Steve continues. He glances around to check for any warning signs they aren't alone and then he pulls Jonathan along with him in the direction of the others, who are now visible in the distance, making their way a little more cautiously towards him. "I'll tell you the whole gruesome tale once we're home." The first time Steve used that phrasing it threw Jonathan, so caught up in the reality that their home was if not gone, so radically different and unlikely to ever be in the house he grew up in again. But by now he understands what Steve means, home now is wherever the party are, wherever they are safest surrounded by people who care. Steve takes his hand and tugs him along until they meet up with the others. Even once they are accompanied, Steve doesn't let go of his hand. For once, Steve trusts the others to have things covered and that allows them this small comfort; Steve's hand in his gives Jonathan the continued reassurance that Steve is okay.
After getting cleaned up, patched up and told off by plenty of the group, Steve recounts the full tale of his daring escape. No drama spared, it's done around the small bin fire they get going that evening, as if it's another epic adventure and not the foolhardy actions of someone practically with a death-wish. Whatever other lingering thoughts people have on this they let them be, saved for another day, and allow Steve to have his glory for the time being. That night they sleep out on the roof, relaxing some in their new relatively safe spot even though they all know it's only temporary. Jonathan puts his sleeping bag right next to Steve's in a far corner of the roof and Steve makes no attempt to put space between them. Pressed up close like that they could always argue it's for heat, the late summer night is cooler than ideal, but there's a feeling growing in Jonathan that is slowly blooming with each moment like this.
"I'm glad you're okay," Jonathan whispers as he stares up at the bright stars above them.
"Me too," Steve replies and Jonathan glances over at him, hoping to be able to catch the emotion accompanying that under the moonlight, but he isn't sure what he spies on Steve's face. It's said matter-of-factly and yet he wants to ask if Steve means that, to ask him how much he really cares about his survival, but pushing the issue doesn't feel right in the quiet of the night.
"You know, there were a few times there I wasn't sure if I was gonna make it out alive. Made me think about what I wish I'd done."
"Like?"
"Like this," Steve says and Jonathan doesn't have enough time to process it, still stuck on 'Like what?' as Steve's lips hit his.
Steve kisses him tenderly at first, but by the time Jonathan's brain has caught up and he reacts, Steve has opened his mouth a little and the kisses become messier, teasing as he uses his tongue to gently explore Jonathan's lips and mouth. Steve's a good kisser and they spend a while making out like that before Jonathan dares to press his sleeping bag closer, wanting even more contact, wanting Steve to feel how much he wants that. It isn't often Jonathan feels bold but Steve brings it out in him more and more.
"FYI, these things can zip together. If you like." Steve points out, looking down at the sleeping bags between them. There's a coy smirk on his face as he suggests it, playful but with a tenseness too as he waits for the answer.
"Yeah. Yeah, I would very much like," Jonathan says, watching Steve break into a brilliant grin.
Sitting up and coordinating which zip goes where takes more effort than he expects but they figure it out in the end. Huddled back together in their double sleeping bag is when they hear the giggles in the background and someone starts lowly chanting "Steve and Jonathan, sitting on the roof, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
"Guess we're rumbled then," Steve says with a fond smile.
"Yeah. But it's good."
"How do you figure that? I mean, it's fine either way, I'm happy for anyone to know, but why good?"
"Everyone I want to know knows now, except my mom."
"Hey, we'll find her. I know we will."
"Thanks. But you'd better be there too when we do," Jonathan says, bunching Steve's shirt in one hand where it rests over his chest, instinctively holding onto him, before he uses the other to pull him closer.