Inside Out: Malignant

by BrittWitt16

She knew everything would be different, but she never expected this much to stay the same. A year later, and Christine still has panic attacks and nightmares about the Upside Down. It doesn't help that Dustin's being weirder than usual, or that Hopper has her under surveillance. It also doesn't help that she has terrible taste in guys... Sequel to Inside Out

25. The Deal

It had been a full week since the gate closed, and the people of Hawkins were none the wiser.

There were only a few signs of the cataclysm that had unfolded right under their nose. Claudia was still looking for her precious Mews, posting flyers up and down Main Street. She'd taped one on the door to Radio Shack too, right above a sign that read: Closed Due to Family Emergency. Even though the store had been dark and empty for a week, no one seemed too concerned about what had happened to Bob Newby.

Then there was the gaping hole in the wall of the Hendersons' cellar. Christine had been worried they wouldn't be able to explain that one away, but as Dustin pointed out, they didn't really need to explain it. They could just say they had no clue what caused the hole. It couldn't have anything to do with Mews, because Dustin and Christine had been down in the cellar looking for her, and there certainly hadn't been a hole in the wall then. Claudia had been beside herself, but she had no reason to suspect that they were lying, which left her to come to her own conclusion. She was still trying to decide if it was the work of a wild animal or some freak earthquake that had occurred without anyone noticing. Without much of a choice, she reported it to the sheriff's department, then paid to have the hole covered up.

The construction trucks were just part of the flurry of activity on Dover Avenue. Most houses had already taken down their Halloween decorations, but Christmas lights were already starting to twinkle outside, families looking to get the job done before the first serious cold front. While the lawn of Number 66 was bare, the driveway was full for the first time in weeks, Pete Walcott's car sitting in the shadow of Chief Hopper's truck while Christine's bike waited for her just outside the garage.

Christine herself was still in her room, curled up in her blanket fort with a book propped open in her lap. She tapped her pen against her chin as she reviewed the answers, squinting so she could decipher the messy handwriting; thankfully, she had plenty of experience doing that.

"Moria to Rivendell. This is Moria to Rivendell, do you copy? Over."

Christine picked up the walkie talkie from the blanket beside her, eyes still scanning the page. "This is Rivendell, I copy. And before you ask: yes, I have to come, and yes, I have quarters. Over."

"Thank you. Now are you ready to go or what?! Over."

"Hey, don't you put this on me," Christine snapped. "I've been waiting on you. Did anyone get ahold of Max? Over."

"Yeah, we talked after school. She's gonna catch a ride with Will. Over."

"Will's still coming?"

Christine couldn't help the surprise in her voice. This would be their first arcade night since the gate closed, and while the boys were all talking like it was business as usual, Christine wasn't so sure. Honestly, she couldn't believe Joyce was letting Will out of the house.

"Yeah," Dustin said, catching her tone, "we had to bargain with his mom a lot, but she said he could come. Over."

"Don't interrupt me, Dustin. I didn't say over. Over."

"Shut up. I thought you forgot. Over."

"Well, I didn't forget. Over."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you did! Over!"

"Well, I'm the one with the quarters, so maybe I just won't bring them."

"Christine!"

"Strike two. Over."

The channel went silent for several seconds, making Christine smirk. If she strained her ears, she was sure she would hear Dustin cursing next door. She was honestly expecting him to turn the walkie off—that or revoke her invitation to the arcade at all—but to her surprise, Dustin's voice returned much calmer and controlled.

"Sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to interrupt. It's just—I'm excited. This is the first time we'll have the whole party together. Like everybody! Over."

"Dustin, you were all together on Halloween. Over."

"Yeah, but you weren't there. Over."

Christine bit her lip, controlling her smile before it became so wide it would be painful. "Well are you sure you want me to come? You've only spent the last few months begging me to stop coming with you. Over."

"No!" Dustin shouted at once. "You have to come! I—I mean, Max is excited to see you. She—she gets bored when it's just us. Guys. Over."

The urgency in his voice was almost concerning. Christine frowned at the walkie, but decided not to push her luck. Despite how annoying the kids could be, she did like going to the arcade with them, and she knew that Dustin was still nervous around Max.

"Well, if it's for Max, I guess I'll come," Christine sighed performatively. "That's really nice of Joyce to drive her. Over."

"Yeah. Joyce is awesome. Over."

There was a smile evident in his voice, and his enthusiasm was enough to make Christine grin again.

"Alright. Give me a few minutes to finish this and I'll meet you outside in ten. Over."

"Roger that, Rivendell. T-minus ten. This is Moria, over and out."

It didn't take Christine long to get ready. She'd already changed out of her school clothes and into her overalls—again—because the pockets were so damn convenient at the arcade, and her makeup only needed a little touching up. She was getting better at it now that she didn't really have an option. The bruise on her cheek was still painfully obvious, even with the concealer she spread over it every day, but at least the purple was starting to fade away now; it would be way easier to hide the yellow and brown, and then she could go back to forgoing it altogether.

She dropped her bag of quarters into her overall pouch, grabbed the math book, and then she was out the door.

"I'm headed out," Christine announced as she passed through the living room. "Back by ten!"

She paused behind the couch, leaning over to kiss her dad on the head. He tore his eyes away from the television to twist around in his seat and kiss her cheek, then frowned.

"You sure you're gonna be warm enough, hon? It's getting cold out there."

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She tugged the long sleeves of her striped shirt. "Besides, it's just the ride there and back. The arcade's always boiling."

"I don't know…"

"Relax, Pete," Hopper chuckled from the armchair. "She's too stubborn to get cold. Got all that teen angst and rage to keep her warm."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Hello to you too, Chief."

"Slim."

He raised his beer in a toast, and carefully schooled her face to avoid any reaction. She was still mad at Hopper; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was growing on her.

Her father reached back to pat her on the arm, shaking his head with a smile.

"You know, I'm proud of you two. I can't believe you made it a week without killing each other."

"Eh, it was touch and go," said Hopper.

"Oh, definitely," Christine agreed. "For a while there, I wasn't sure either of us would make it out alive."

Hopper caught her eye, hiding his smirk behind his cigarette.

With a final goodbye, Christine headed out the door. She grabbed her bike and walked it out to the street, pausing next to Hopper's truck, where the window was cracked open. It left just enough space for her to slide the math workbook through the window. It fell into the driver's seat, ready to go back to Eleven when Hopper went home.

The Hendersons' front door slammed as Dustin came tumbling out into the driveway. "Come on! Let's go, let's go, let's go! We gotta move it!"

"Dustin, which one of us is already on their bike?"

"Shut up. I'm talking to myself!"

"Weirdo."

"Just go, Christine!"

The two of them took off down the street, Dustin taking the opportunity to whoop loudly as he coasted past house after house. They met up with Mike and Lucas at their usual spot, both grinning at Dustin's antics; his energy was infectious. All four of them raced to the arcade in record time, impervious to the cold wind whipping against them and laughing at nothing at all. It was just nice to feel as though things were going back to normal—whatever normal was in Hawkins.

Everyone was out of breath by the time they reached the arcade. Christine's fingers were starting to go numb, which made it difficult to operate the tiny dials on her bike lock. She'd only just finished when she heard Dustin shout.

"There they are!"

Christine glanced up and did a double take, looking around the parking lot; she didn't see Joyce's Ford. She was so busy searching for the lime green car that she almost didn't recognize the red one that had parked in the corner. It was bizarre to see Will climbing out of the passenger seat, Max sliding out from the back, followed by…

"Steve!" Dustin was practically bouncing with glee as they walked over. "Oh my God. Dude, we are going to show you all the best games. We're gonna start with Dragon's Lair—"

"Then Space Invader," Lucas interrupted. "You'll be good at that."

"Then I'm gonna try to beat Max's score on Dig Dug."

"Unlikely," Max snorted.

"Hey, he can do it," Mike said defensively. "We'll just watch you play first."

"I'm not gonna play while all of you leer at me like a bunch of stalkers."

"We're not gonna be leering," Lucas corrected. "We'd be learning your technique. Your strategy."

"Well, it's not about strategy," Max said haughtily. "It's about natural talent."

"That's bull," said Mike. "There's no way you were that good when you started."

"I practiced."

"I've practiced too!"

"Not enough to beat my score."

"Just because you—"

"Hey!" Steve clapped his hands, calling them to order. "Okay, you guys are at like a ten. I need you to bring it down to a five. Get inside."

Mike gave him a disparaging look. "You can't be 'at a five' in the arcade. No one would hear you."

"Great. Then get inside so I can't hear you."

There was a general grumble of complaint at the joke, but even so, the party began filing into the building. Max and Will both said hi to Christine as they passed, which she heard, but couldn't reply to. She was still rooted to the spot, staring blankly at Steve.

It wasn't as though this was the first time she'd seen him. He looked exactly the same as he had a few hours ago at the end of the school day: snug jeans and a white polo, a navy blue zip-up slung over his shoulders, his hair styled to cover the cuts on his forehead. His face was still in bad shape, worse than Christine's, but something about the way the bruises sat on his cheeks made it look purposeful, like makeup. That, or he was actually using his mom's makeup to control the damage.

His lip was still split at the corner of his mouth, which tugged slightly when he gave her a grin.

"Hey, you good?"

"Uh…yeah." Christine blinked, trying to pull herself together. "I just…didn't know you were coming. The arcade isn't…exactly your style."

"Yeah, it was kinda last minute," Steve chuckled. "Will's mom was on the fence about letting him come. I guess he just went back to school today and she was afraid he'd—I don't know, overexert himself and pass out? So I offered to tag along, help you keep an eye on him. Figure two babysitters are better than one, right?"

He gave her a hopeful smile that made it hard for Christine to think of the words to her next sentence.

"Yeah that's—that was really sweet of you to offer her."

Steve shrugged off the praise. "It's not a big deal. I still feel bad about her fridge, you know? And I was driving Max anyway, so I thought—"

"You were already driving Max?" Christine asked sharply. "Like…that was pre-established?"

"Um…yeah," he said uncertainly. "Is that okay?"

"No, it's—that's fine." She shook her head with a forced smile. "I think that just got lost in translation when Will tried to explain to Dustin."

"What do you mean? Dustin's the one who asked me drive them."

The smile grew fixed on Christine's face. She nodded and turned to look through the window to the arcade, just in time to watch five heads duck out of sight behind the Pac-Man machine. She was going to strangle every one of them; she just needed to decide if Dustin was going first or last.

By the time she summoned the courage to look back at Steve, he was grimacing.

"I probably…wasn't supposed to tell you that…"

"It's fine," Christine said with a weak laugh. "It's not your job to cover for Dustin."

"If it helps, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to tell you that. I mean—I didn't know that it was a surprise, or that this was—or that he was trying to—yeah."

They nodded at each other, both smiling and laughing uneasily, struggling with the awkwardness growing between them.

Christine resisted the urge to kick herself; this was stupid. She and Steve had been fine all week, talking through study hall, complaining about classes, laughing about the rumors that were going around about their injuries. Everything was fine. At least, they were both pretending everything was fine, and they'd gotten really good at that over the last year.

Sure, this was the first time she'd seen him outside of school since he'd…

Nope. She wasn't going to think about it. What did it matter, anyway? Christine and Steve hung out all the time outside of school. They were friends. He'd even said she was his best friend. And it's not like they were alone—at least, they wouldn't be once they went inside. Everything was still fine. She'd just been surprised to see him, and now that she was over the shock, things would be normal.

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but Steve beat her to it.

"Sorry. If this is weird. Normally I'd just back off and leave, but uh…I have to drive Will and Max home later, and I don't really wanna drive home and then come back again, so—if you want, you could take the night off, I guess? Grab a rental movie and just chill?"

"Yeah, I don't think so," she said with a giggle. "You'd never survive."

Steve frowned, affronted. "I could survive."

"Uh, no. You couldn't. There's five of them and one of you, and you've never babysat before."

"Excuse me, I babysat all last weekend."

"Yeah, with my help. Two and a half hours in there solo? You wouldn't make it out alive." Christine folded her arms over her chest and gave him a cocky smirk. "Face it, Harrington. You need my expertise."

"Your expertise?" he echoed with a laugh. "It's the arcade, Chrissy. There's nothing expert about it."

"We'll see about that. Come on. If there's gonna be seven of us, I wanna grab the corner booth before it gets too crowded."

Steve opened the door for her, bowing her through and following close behind as she led the way through the chaos of the arcade. When they finally reached the other side, Christine was surprised to find the largest table covered by a pile of familiar jackets. Apparently, the kids had been responsible enough to reserve the round booth after they finished spying on their babysitters: small favors.

"So," Steve began. He tossed his hoodie on top of the pile and turned to survey the rows of games and flashing lights. "Where do we start?"

"You want to play?" she asked, taken aback.

"Hell yeah, I wanna play. I'm here for the full experience. Put me in, Coach."

Christine stared at him, a wide, disbelieving smile growing on her face as he smiled back at her. Finally, she shook her head and giggled.

"Alright, sport. I guess we can start with some Skee-Ball and, once you're warmed up, you can try to beat me at air hockey."

"Oh, game on, Walcott."

It was amazing how fast the awkwardness faded away after that. The more quarters they spent, the more tickets they racked up, the easier it was to breathe. Steve talked a big game about his athletic skills, Christine bragged about all the time she'd spent in the arcade, but in the end, they were evenly mediocre. There'd been no discernable winner at Skee-Ball, and they each won one round of air hockey. They were in the middle of their tie breaker when Dustin ran over to abduct Steve, dragging him away to begin his video game crash course.

Will was kind enough to step in and finish the game on Steve's behalf, then challenged Christine to another game on his own. Their continuous air hockey tournament had been going on for weeks; Christine wasn't sure if either of them were keeping track anymore.

"So, how are you feeling?" she asked, after each of them had scored a few points.

Will sagged, his sigh audible even over the music and trilling machines.

"Sorry," Christine added. "I'm sure you get asked that a lot, huh?"

"It's fine," he said mechanically. "I know everyone's worried, but…I'm okay."

He dropped the puck back into play, smacking the side so it ping-ponged between opposite walls, slowly inching its way toward Christine. Will watched it bounce back and forth while Christine watched him, gnawing on her bottom lip. She leaned forward and trapped the puck under her mallet so she could drag it back and start again.

"How about that burn?"

Will merely shrugged, one hand gravitating to cover the slight bulge of bandages on his side. Christine wouldn't have known he was injured if Nancy hadn't told her, recounting how they'd quite literally had to burn the Mind Flayer out of him—with a fire poker. Just the thought was enough to make Christine cry, but if Will was in pain, he was incredible at hiding it.

"I don't think it's gonna go away," he lamented softly. "I'm just gonna be stuck with this weird scar forever."

"Welcome to the club," Christine chuckled. "You'll match me, Nancy, and Jonathan."

That got a fleeting smile out of him before he turned back to the game.

"What about Steve?" he asked.

Christine frowned at him. "What about Steve?"

"Do you guys match? He fought the Demogorgon too."

"True, but he was a little late, so he made it out without any scars; though at the rate he's getting his ass kicked, I guess it's only a matter of time."

"Yeah, it looks pretty bad." Will glanced across the room at the others. "I don't think it's bothering him, though. He seems pretty happy, and he was actually really nice on the ride over."

"Is that so?"

Christine glanced over her shoulder, sending a fleeting glance down the row of video games. Dustin and Lucas were both shouting directions at Steve as he fumbled the controls to Donkey Kong, desperately trying to pay attention to the game, their advice, and the joystick all at once. He sent a poorly aimed kick at Dustin behind him, shouting over them, mashing his fingers on the different buttons, his face screwed up in frustration.

At the same time, Christine could see what Will meant. Even as he hurled insults at the surrounding middle schoolers, Steve had an energy Christine hadn't seen from him in a long time. It was a far cry from the drained, lifeless Steve Harrington she'd found on her doorstep on Halloween night. Now, Steve was alive.

Christine jumped as the air hockey table made a loud trilling noise. Shocked, she looked down to see the plastic puck rattling through the goal on her side. Will smiled smugly across from her.

"You little shit," Christine laughed. "Fine! Okay, you wanna play like that? You're on, Byers."

It was a vicious battle, one Christine fought valiantly, but after two more rounds, it was clear that Will was the winner. She was quick to remind him that just because he'd won today didn't mean he'd beaten her for good, not that it had any effect whatsoever on his proud grin. He ran off to brag to Mike, and Christine headed up to the counter to order their dinner.

At least, she tried to order their dinner, but that was difficult when no one was working at the counter. She waited for a good two or three minutes, trying to peek into the back to see if anyone was coming, but to no avail.

"Fuckin' Keith," she grumbled as she stormed away.

It didn't take long to hunt him down. She didn't even have to do one full lap of the arcade before she found him, hunched over slightly to disguise his height, bearing down on Lucas with a cheese-coated finger in his face.

"I thought we had a deal, Sinclair."

"We did!" Lucas squeaked. "We—we do! I'm trying, man!"

"Well, try harder. This agreement was quid pro quo. You do something for me, I do something for you. Equal partners. A symmetrical relationship."

"Actually," Christine sighed, stepping up behind Keith, "it's 'symbiotic relationship.'"

Keith jumped back to his normal height and whirled around on the spot, coming nose-to-nose with Christine. He hurriedly pushed his hair out of his face, leaving cheese dust in his bangs.

"Chrissy. Uh—hi."

"Yeah. Hi, Keith. Is there a problem here?"

"What? No. No, there's no problem."

"Lucas?" she asked, her eyes still fixed on Keith.

"No, we're—we're good," Lucas's voice assured her nervously. "Keith and I were just—he was helping me with a game."

"Helping you?" Christine broke off her staring match to peer around Keith, cocking an eyebrow at Lucas. "Are you sure? Because it sounds like he was threatening you."

"No no no! He wasn't—ha! No, um…Keith and I made a deal to…help each other get on the high score list! Yeah, Keith is like really good at Frogger and—and I'm great at Tron, so he's gonna get my name on the Frogger high score and I'm supposed to get him on the Tron high score, but—I'm just having like a—a really off night so…Keith is…motivating me…"

"Motivating. Right." Christine turned back to Keith expectantly. "Well, that's just so sweet of you, Keith."

"Uh, y-yeah," Keith stuttered. "You know, just…anything for my favorite customers!"

He gave her a wide, nervous smile and hesitantly punched her in the shoulder. Christine blinked, looked down at her shoulder, and then back at Keith. Baffled, she actually giggled. Keith allowed himself to relax a fraction.

"Uh, hey, are you—are you hungry?"

"Yeah, actually," Christine said with a smirk. "I was gonna order dinner, but no one's at the counter."

"Right! Sorry, yeah, I'll—I can put that in for you. You want the usual?"

"Yeah, two pizzas—"

"Two pizzas, one plain and one with sausage and pepperoni, cheese fries, nachos, and five sodas," he rattled off. "Do you want me to bring it to your booth?"

"Um…yeah…" she said uncertainly. "I would…really appreciate that, Keith."

"I'm on it, Chrissy. Be right back."

Keith grinned and stepped around her, speeding off to the front desk and disappearing into the back before Christine remembered that she was supposed to order two more drinks. That had been…weird.

She turned wordlessly back to Lucas, squinting suspiciously, which he returned with a nervous grin nearly identical to Keith's. Before he could start spewing any new excuses, they were interrupted.

"Wooow." Steve stepped around the corner of the aisle, flanked by Dustin and Mike; it looked like they'd been listening in from the next row over. "So that's what you meant by expertise."

He was giving Christine a very sly smile, one that made her fidget and frown.

"Excuse me?"

"Your expertise," he repeated. "Flirting with the nerds to get fast service and cheap pizza."

Christine's jaw dropped. "What? No! No, I—I wasn't flirting with him."

"Uh, yeah, you were. 'I would really appreciate that, Keith.'"

"Shut up," she said, her face going red. "It's not like that. Keith is always arguing with the boys, and I'm always breaking up their fights. I've yelled at him every week for like the last five months. He's terrified of me."

"Chris, he's not scared of you. He's into you."

Christine opened her mouth to reply, then quickly snapped it shut. She didn't like the knowing looks everyone was giving her, or the maniacal smile that was growing on Steve's face.

"Holy shit," he chuckled in awe. "You really didn't know."

"Shut up, Steve," she grumbled, slowly folding in on herself.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop Steve's laughter as he ambled over to her. "Who would've thought? Christine Walcott, using her feminine wiles on the poor, unsuspecting geeks of Hawkins. Damn, that poor guy never stood a chance."

Christine punched Steve in the side and stormed to the bathroom, the only place she'd get any peace.

Now that Steve had said it out loud, Christine felt like an idiot. Of course Keith wasn't scared of her. She'd never actually done anything to him, except a few stern words in defense of the kids. She knew most people didn't find her intimidating; she just thought Keith was a wimp. Now, it turned out that wasn't the case at all.

And more than stupid, she felt guilty. Had she been flirting with Keith all summer? She certainly hadn't meant to; Keith was an okay guy, but she didn't like the way he argued with the kids week after week. Well, she argued with the kids week after week, but that was different. She was their babysitter; Keith was their adversary. Every time she'd spoken to him, she'd been trying to defend the kids, to set boundaries while still being polite enough that they wouldn't get thrown out and banned for life. The way Steve had said it, it sounded like she'd been manipulating him, but…did it count if she didn't know that's what she was doing?

Christine frowned at herself in the mirror. She wanted to splash her face with water, but that would have washed all her makeup off. Instead, she settled for watering down the flyaways from her ponytail, taking a deep breath, and venturing back into the arcade.

Steve was waiting for her at their corner booth, all the bags and jackets shoved underneath so there'd be room to sit. He gave her a sheepish wave, which Christine elected to ignore as she slid in across from him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, fine. How were the arcade games?"

It wasn't a graceful subject change, but it didn't leave room for argument; Steve didn't push. He sighed, and then launched into an in-depth retelling of his video game adventures: what games he'd played, what he'd been good at, Dustin's terrible backseat driving, how much money he'd blown trying to follow it. It seemed like he'd really been listening to Dustin. Christine had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to hide a smile.

The food arrived faster than it should have. Keith was miraculously holding all of it at the same time, one pie and one basket in each hand, scattering customers left and right as he made a beeline for their booth. He managed to slide the pies onto the table, then the baskets of fries and nachos, all without spilling any of it. Then he pulled out the stack of cups he had pinned under his arm and placed them on the tabletop with a final flourish. Christine had to admit: it was impressive.

"Alright," Keith sighed in relief. "Two pies, cheese fries, a basket of nachos, five drinks—and I gave you twenty-percent off. Employee discount."

"Oh, that's—Keith—" Christine struggled to get the words out. "You didn't need to do that. I can pay full—"

"No, no, don't worry about it. I should've been up at the counter. You're our best customer, so you deserve to have uh—to have a few perks."

He offered her another wide, nervous smile—only now Christine knew he was nervous because he was excited, not because he was scared. It made it a lot harder to reply. Shifting uncomfortably, she busied herself trying to fish her cash out of the pockets of her overalls.

"Hey, don't worry. I got it."

Steve already had his wallet out. Christine looked up from her crumpled singles, her face turning impossibly redder. "What? No, Steve—"

"Chris, don't worry about it. You feed these monsters every week. Give yourself a break." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then slid a few crisp bills to Keith. "Here you go, man. And could we get two more cups when you get the chance?"

Keith blinked, staring at Steve as if he'd only just realized that he was there. His smile slipped as he looked from Steve to Christine, Steve to the cash in his hand. Almost on autopilot, he reached out to take it.

"Uh…sure. Two more drinks. No problem."

"Thanks, man. Keep the change."

Steve smiled, which made Keith's expression fall even further. He mumbled some polite response and scurried back to the kitchen, quick as he'd come. Steve seemed totally unperturbed. He grabbed a slice of pizza and was already two bites in before he realized Christine was staring at him.

"Wha?" he asked through a mouthful of cheese.

"What was that about?"

"Pa'ing?" Steve swallowed hard and waved off her concern. "Seriously, Chrissy, it's fine. You heard Dustin preaching about my 'disposable income' last week. If he found out I let you pay, I'd never hear the end of it."

"Okay, but…I mean, Keith…he probably…"

She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"Ah, whatever," Steve said with a shrug. "Let him think what he wants. Unless…sorry, do you want me to clear out so he can make a move?"

Steve gave her a teasing smile, one that made her face go beet red, and she folded her arms over her chest. "No, that's not—I don't want him to like—it's fine, I just—"

"Okay, then problem solved," he interrupted simply. He grinned and cupped his hands around his mouth, turning to shout over the arcade. "Hey, shitheads! Foods up! Come and get it!"

A few mothers from neighboring tables shot them dirty looks, and Christine had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Yet, even without any specification, their shitheads were hurrying over a moment later. They crammed into either side of the booth, forcing Steve and Christine to scooch farther in until they were squeezed against each other in the corner. Christine was sure she was blushing again, but no one called her on it. Steve just reached around her shoulder to give Dustin a sharp shove and then went back to his pizza.

Even though it was just two more people, the party felt so much larger than it had before. Their booth was cramped, everyone unintentionally elbowing each other as they reached for things, fighting over the dwindling pizza, shouting over each other in an attempt to control the wildly wandering conversation. Mike finally seemed to be warming up to Max, laughing along as she ragged on Dustin or Lucas or Steve, or all three at once. Will was still the quietest of the bunch, but Mike was keeping an eye on him, occasionally asking questions to keep him involved in the conversation. Chaotic as it all was, it was nice.

Once the fries and nachos had been reduced to crumbs, the kids strayed back to their games, trying to make the most of their last hour; that left Christine alone at the booth with Steve. He'd given her some more room to breathe, but was still sitting closer than he had been before. Christine did her best to avoid looking at him, focusing instead on repeated scans of the perimeter to keep tabs on the kids. She made it a few minutes before Steve drew her attention back to him.

"So," he began, tapping her on the wrist. "Sounds like you and Max had a fun weekend."

Christine looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"The movie," he elaborated. "She wouldn't shut up about it in the car. You snuck her in to see that horror flick she was so excited about?"

"Right," Christine said with a breath of laughter. "Yeah, Saturday was pretty busy and…I figured she deserves it. Nothing worse than she's already been through, you know?"

"So it wasn't really scary?"

"Oh, it was scary. Just not as scary as a Demodog. Or drugging your abusive brother and threatening to shoot his junk off."

Steve laughed and folded his arms on the table. "Yeah, I guess that's fair. You think I could handle it? I was thinking about coming in to see it this weekend."

"Weeell," Christine drawled, tipping her head back and forth, "you can come, but I don't think you're gonna like it."

"Come on! Why not?"

"I just don't think it's your style, Steve."

She left it at that, grinning around her straw as she took another sip of soda.

It was the truth; she didn't think that Steve would like A Nightmare on Elm Street, but not because he wasn't brave. Christine had enjoyed the movie, but even she had to admit that it hit a little close to home. Something about watching a girl named Nancy and her fluffy-haired boyfriend set traps to fight a monster that could jump back and forth between the real world and another dimension made it hard to focus on the fictional storyline.

Steve leaned a little closer to her over the table. "Any chance you could sneak me in next weekend?"

"No."

He gave an exaggerated groan and sagged back in his seat, kicking his legs in a mock tantrum. It made it hard for Christine to keep a straight face, but she was determined. One crack in the façade and she'd either start giggling like a schoolgirl or blushing like a tomato again.

"Whatever," Steve huffed. "I'm glad you and Max had a good time. Certainly more fun than my weekend…"

Christine tensed at once. "Oh? What—what did you do?"

She wished she hadn't said anything at all. Steve turned to her, unimpressed, and raised an eyebrow.

"I talked to Nancy yesterday. She told me about her trip with Jonathan and…we are officially broken up."

"Oh. Right."

Christine nodded and stared resolutely down at the tabletop.

She wasn't sure why she'd bothered pretending she didn't know. Nancy had called her the moment Steve left her house, nearly in tears. She knew she'd made the right choice by letting Steve go; it wasn't fair to him that she still liked Jonathan, that she'd slept with Jonathan, that she'd been holding onto Steve out of guilt and fear; but that didn't stop it from hurting. Even if Nancy wasn't in love with Steve the way she'd wanted to be, she didn't want to see him in pain—and it was that much worse when she was the one causing it.

Christine had done her best to talk Nancy through it. It wasn't anyone's fault—that was her go-to response. Nancy and Steve hadn't worked out, and that wasn't anyone's fault. It wasn't fair to Steve to stay, but it also wasn't fair to Nancy. She shouldn't stay with Steve out of some sense of obligation. If Jonathan made her happy, she needed to go for it.

"You can't live your life always putting other people first, Nancy. Life's too short, you know?"

"You realize that's exactly what you said last year, right?" Nancy had huffed over the phone.

"Yes, I do," Christine replied. "And I see you still haven't learned your lesson. I know you feel guilty for wanting to be with Jonathan, but…now you can both be happy, and Steve has a chance to find something else. Isn't that better than all of you being half-happy forever?"

Needless to say, it had been a long night on the phone, talking in circles and rehashing the same points over and over again. Christine wasn't sure if she'd made Nancy feel any better, but she'd done her best. And the next day, she'd planned to do the same with Steve…but she couldn't.

Christine had walked to study hall with every intention of comforting Steve and talking things out. She'd sat down at their table, said hi, started on her work, and waited for him to make the first move—but Steve just kept working on his English essay. And Christine didn't want to be the one to bring it up. How would that look? "Oh, so I heard you and Nancy broke up. How does that make you feel?" No. No, thank you.

She just kept waiting, chipping away at her homework, holding up a conversation about the latest Billy rumors and construction of the mall at the edge of town. Steve acted as if nothing was wrong and didn't mention Nancy once. Before she knew it, the period was over, and they were both going their separate ways.

Now Steve was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to make the next move. Christine knew she couldn't put it off forever, but she wasn't expecting to deal with it now.

"How are you?" she asked tentatively.

"Not great," Steve remarked lightly, "but…I guess it's fine, all things considered. Well, it's not fine, but we were already unofficially broken up for like…two weeks, so…I've had time to think about it. A lot of time to think about it."

"And…what do you think about it?"

He sighed and gave her a bittersweet smile.

"That we were delaying the inevitable, I guess. I mean…even when we started dating last year, I knew there was something going on with Jonathan. I didn't know what it was and—you know, like you said—I'd already made that mistake once, so I wasn't about to say something and be wrong again. Even if—well, I guess I was right this time—but even at the start, I knew there was something there. So hearing it now, it's just like…I get it. We weren't right for each other anymore, we were trying to pretend that we were, but we weren't happy and…I don't want to hold her back."

"Steve…"

Christine bit her lip, hard, to keep the rest of the sentence inside. There wasn't a single way Steve had been holding Nancy back; if anything, Nancy had been holding him back, but Christine knew that was something she shouldn't voice out loud. She looked at Steve as sympathetically as she could, trying to convey the thought without words, and he smiled at her again.

"I'm okay," he promised. "Really. It's better this way. I want her to be happy. After everything we've been through, she deserves that. All of us do, you know? So if that means she's gonna start dating Jonathan, then—good for her. I'm okay with that. And she's okay with me getting back out there and…finding something that's good for me."

Steve clasped his hands together on the table and looked at Christine expectantly, something that made her insides squirm. Internally, she let out a colorful string of curses. Nancy had conveniently neglected to mention this part of her conversation with Steve.

Christine mirrored his posture, folding her hands on the table and taking a deep, steadying breath before she continued. "Well, would you like my advice?"

"I would love your advice."

"Personally, I don't think you should be rushing into anything. I think that you really loved Nancy, and even if you saw it coming, that hurts. Jumping into another relationship too fast would be a mistake, so if there is someone you—that you may—be considering, then you need to make sure you take the time to…really evaluate your feelings before you make any decisions."

"And what if I have evaluated my feelings?"

"Well, frankly, I think your perspective is a little warped right now," Christine replied, failing to swallow her panicked laughter. "I mean, if you start something before you're sure—like, before you're really sure—then you're just going to be doing exactly what Nancy did to you. You need to take some time to focus on yourself, not…not look for a rebound," she finished meekly.

"What?" Steve actually looked offended. "Chrissy, you're not a rebound. If anything, you're—"

"Steve."

Christine looked at him with pleading eyes until he finally deflated, groaning and dropping his face into his hands.

It had been a full week since the gate closed—a full week since Steve had almost kissed her, and they still hadn't spoken about it. Instead, it became an open secret, just like her crush on him the year before, something they both knew but silently agreed to never discuss. Christine preferred it that way. She could pretend the whole thing had been a dream, a fleeting figment of her imagination. She knew how to suffer in silence, but she didn't know if she'd survive Steve Harrington breaking her heart again.

"Okay," Steve relented, as if reading her thoughts. "Okay, you're right. You're right! I'll—focus on myself for a while…whatever that means."

He scoffed and fiddled with his napkin, crushing it into a ball and tossing it neatly into the empty basket of fries. Christine composed her face into a smile and tucked her fears away for another day.

"Well, you could start with that admissions essay."

"You're joking, right?" Steve turned to her with an incredulous look. "Chris, that essay was garbage. Besides, I missed the deadline."

"No, you missed the deadline for early decision."

"Yeah, and I need to apply early decision otherwise no one would take me!"

"That's not true. You're a great basketball player and you work super hard. Your brain just functions a little different than most."

"Guess that's one way to put it," he said dejectedly. "I think you're giving me too much credit."

"And you don't give yourself enough." She fixed him with a stern look, stopping just short of grabbing his hand off the table. "Honestly, Steve, maybe this is a good thing. It gives you a few more weeks to look at schools, apply to a couple more places. And in the meantime, we work on your essay."

"We?"

Steve was watching her with a tiny smile. He had that look again, that same soft expression he'd had in the car when he'd held her hand, when he'd asked—

Christine cleared her throat.

"Yes, we. I'm not gonna leave my best friend high and dry while he's trying to get into college. And you're right: that essay was garbage, which means you need my help."

She wrinkled her nose at him, hoping it might knock him down a peg or two; it didn't work. Steve's grin only spread, wide enough that the cut on his lip was tugging at the skin again.

"Yeah. I really do."

His tone was enough to make her blush. It was infuriating how much influence he still had over her, the way he could short-circuit her brain with an easy smile.

"Don't do that," Christine said quietly.

"I'm not doing anything," said Steve. "What am I doing? I don't think I'm—"

"You know exactly what you're doing because you used to do it on purpose all the time. Only these days, I can't tell when you're joking or when you're being serious or when you just want something from me, so I need you to stop. No flirting."

The way Steve's jaw dropped, she might as well have told him to stop breathing.

"Oh, come on, Chrissy! You know I'm being serious. I'm doing it because I—"

"Nope," she interrupted. "If you're focusing on yourself, then you're focusing one hundred percent on yourself. No flirting. I'll help with the essay, but those are my terms. Deal?"

"You've gotta be kidding me. You're—Jesus—"

Steve laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Christine watched him coolly, arms folded, eyebrows raised. After grumbling a few more half-formed complaints, Steve finally sighed. He turned back to her with pursed lips, running his thumb along the cut at the corner of his mouth.

"You're serious about this, huh?"

"Yes, Steve, I'm serious. Do we have a deal or not?"

"Fine! Yes, geez—we have a deal. If that's how I can make you happy, then fine. I'll stop flirting with you…weirdo."

Christine was glad that he rolled his eyes in exasperation; it gave her an extra second to hide her smirk.

They didn't stay at the arcade long after that. Steve helped her dispose of the garbage and return the trays and dishes to the counter, talking nonstop about how much he'd enjoyed playing Space Invader and how good Max was at Dig Dug. He didn't let Christine get a word in edgewise, which would have been annoying if it weren't for her sneaking suspicion that he was being deliberately ostentatious; Keith had reemerged from the kitchen and was watching them from a distance with a sullen look on his face.

When they finally managed to pry the kids from their video games, the group headed out to the parking lot to say their goodbyes. Steve ushered Will and Max back to his car while Christine led the others to the bike rack. Again, she fumbled with the dials on her bike lock, which were so cold they might've frozen in place. She should have taken her dad's advice about bringing a jacket. The ride back was going to be miserable.

"Hey, Chris!"

Steve's BMW pulled up alongside the bike rack. He threw the car into park and hopped out of the driver's side, walking around to meet them. Christine's eyes widened as he pulled off his navy blue sweatshirt.

"Steve," she protested through clenched teeth, "I'm not taking—"

"And I'm not taking no for an answer. Here." He handed it to her, impervious to her stern glare; more than impervious, he had the nerve to smirk at her. "What? This is a totally normal, totally friendly gesture. It's freezing and you have to bike like five miles. At least my car has heat."

He offered her the sweatshirt again, and Christine wanted nothing more than to shove it into his face and smother his smug look away—but she couldn't do that with witnesses, and right now, all five of the kids were watching her with smirks just like Steve's. Goddamn traitors.

Grumbling, Christine snatched the sweatshirt and pulled it on. She hated how warm it was, how it smelled like his cologne, and especially how it did actually make her feel better. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She muttered a quiet thank you, and Steve smiled. He opened his mouth, but jumped as a car horn went off behind him. Max was leaning over the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel.

"Can we go now? Some of us have curfew!"

"Alright, alright, yeesh." Steve scratched at the back of his neck, pointing at each kid in turn. "Hey, get home safe, okay? Don't like—bike in traffic or whatever."

With one final wave, he jogged around the car, hopped back in the driver's seat, and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Christine standing in front of Palace Arcade. She chewed on her bottom lip, watching the taillights disappear down the street, praying the silence would last a little bit longer…but she was hyperaware of the way the boys were hovering behind her, buzzing with energy.

"Don't," she warned, to absolutely no effect.

All three of them burst into laughter, making loud kissy noises and pulling faces at her. Christine smacked Mike, who was closest.

"Ow! Hey!"

"Go," Christine ordered. "All of you, now. I'm strangling the first one I catch."

They were smart enough not to doubt her. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all scrambled for their bikes and ran for the street, tripping over themselves in their haste to escape. Christine was kind enough to give them a head start before hunting them down.

It was, without a doubt, the fastest they'd ever made it across town. Lucas and Mike got off easy, splitting off toward their respective houses before Christine could do much more than scream at them; Dustin wasn't so lucky. He pedaled as hard as he could, but eventually, Christine caught up to him. They spent several blocks weaving around each other, Christine trying to smack him or kick him while Dustin swerved to avoid her, yelping curses and apologies the whole way.

By the time they pulled onto Dover Avenue, they were both winded, sore, and cold. They coasted up their respective driveways in unison, parking their bikes and calling out goodnight as if they hadn't been feuding the entire way home. Christine made it to her front door before she doubled back.

"Hey, Dustin? Can we talk?"

Dustin froze with his hand on the doorknob. His reluctance was evident, but either he knew he owed her an explanation or he knew he wasn't getting away without one.

"Yeah, okay."

They met each other on the property line, dropping their belongings onto the lawn and sitting across from one another. Dustin began picking absentmindedly at blades of grass while Christine fiddled with the zipper of her sweatshirt.

"So," she began slowly. "Is there anything you wanna tell me?"

Dustin shrugged without looking at her. "Like what?"

"Like…how you neglected to mention you invited Steve to the arcade?"

"So what?" Dustin snapped. "It wouldn't have changed anything. You still would've come, but we would've been late 'cuz you changed your outfit fifteen times or whatever."

"Dust—"

"Besides, it's not like you were gonna talk to him about anything, so you know what? You're welcome."

He stubbornly folded his arms over his chest and Christine resisted the urge to tackle him. She sighed, leaning her elbows on her knees.

"When did you even ask him to come?"

"After school. I biked to his house."

"…You know where he lives?"

"Well, no. I do now, obviously. I asked Mike and Mike asked Nancy for me."

Christine bobbed her head bitterly. She wasn't sure how she felt about the setup being an organized effort between everyone in the party—not that she was surprised. The kids had always loved meddling; there just hadn't been much in Christine's life for them to meddle in.

"So let me get this straight," she began again. "You biked to Steve's house to tell him, in person, that he needed to come to the arcade because you wanted him to talk to me?"

"God, no," Dustin scoffed. "I told him Max and Will needed a ride—which was true! He was the one who offered to stay the whole time to keep an eye on Will, which was obviously just a ploy to hang out with you, in case you didn't notice."

He gave her a pointed look, which Christine ignored.

"Why ask Steve at all?" she asked. "If Will needed a ride, you could've asked Jonathan."

Dustin glowered at her. "Christine, are you seriously asking me this? I did it because you like him!"

"Yeah, and you don't! You've spent the last several years making that very clear. What happened to 'Steve Harrington is a douchebag'?"

With a groan, Dustin keeled over into the grass. Christine mirrored him, laying on her side and waiting for a more coherent answer. He had his face pressed flat to the ground, which made it hard to understand his muffled words.

"It doesn't matter what I think," he grumbled. "It's your life. You should do what you want."

Christine frowned. "Strong words from someone who went out of his way to ambush me with my crush."

She reached across the grass and poked Dustin's cheek, giggling as he squirmed away from her. He rolled onto his back and fixed his hat so he had a clear view of the sky. Even though he was quiet, Christine was glad to see he looked less annoyed.

"Steve's not so bad," Dustin allowed. "He's still kind of a dick, but…I guess I get what you mean about how he makes you feel special, and how he's trying to be a better person. He's been really awesome this month, so…you could do worse."

"Oh really?" she said with a snort. "Like who?"

"Keith."

Christine's laughter died away as she gaped at Dustin, whose face was completely blank.

"Hold on," she hissed, leaning toward him, "did you know about that?"

"Chrissy, everyone in Hawkins knew about that!" Dustin burst out. "Everyone except you, apparently! Keith is like super obnoxious about it! He's always asking about you and it's really annoying because he's a total asshole unless you're standing right next to us, only sometimes that's even worse because then he puts on his douchey employee of the month act and you never say anything! You just break up the fight, and he keeps picking on us, and you keep coming back! Like, at least Steve is trying to be a good person. Keith's just a dweeb who gets picked on, so he takes it out on the rest of us. He's a bully, Christine!"

Dustin's chest was heaving from the exertion of his rant. He wiped his hands down his face and turned to Christine with pained, pleading eyes, like he was begging her to understand; and Christine did understand. She knew that Keith was a dick to the kids, which is why she always went to the arcade with them. What she didn't understand was Dustin's desperation. He seemed afraid she might not believe him.

He just doesn't want things to change.

"Hold on," Christine said, shaking her head. "Is this why you didn't want me coming to the arcade anymore? Because you thought I was gonna start dating Keith?"

She couldn't help the incredulous smile that crept up on her face, something that Dustin didn't appreciate in the slightest.

"It's not funny, Chrissy. He's a dick and I don't like him."

"Clearly," she chuckled, "I mean, if you'd rather I date Steve Harrington, then Keith must be a real douchecanoe."

Christine watched out of the corner of her eye as Dustin tried to hide his laughter. She gave him a few seconds to compose himself before reaching for his arm and forcibly turning him to look at her. He let out a petulant whine and struggled for a moment, but eventually relented, pouting at her soft smile.

"Dusty, you don't have anything to worry about, okay? I come to the arcade because I like hanging out with you; that's it. Certainly not because I want to spend time with a Cheetoh-dusted asshole like Keith. But if you're upset about something, you need to talk to me, otherwise I won't know what you want."

"I just want…" Dustin hesitated, rolling his eyes at himself before he finished, "I just want you to be happy…or whatever…"

"Well, mission accomplished. For some inexplicable reason, hanging out with you turds makes me happy so…"

Dustin snickered at her. "You're lame."

"And you're a pain in my ass," said Christine, narrowing her eyes at him. "So are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good. Sorry I didn't tell you about Steve."

"It's okay. Like you said, it probably wouldn't have changed anything. At least he held Keith at bay."

"About that…" Dustin grimaced as they got to their feet. "There's actually one other reason I asked Steve to come to the arcade."

"O-kay," Christine said slowly. "Why?"

"Lucas kind of…promised Keith he could go on a date with you if he helped Lucas talk to Max."

"He…what?!"

"Which he did not clear with the rest of the party!" Dustin emphasized. "This was when Lucas went rogue and told Max about the Upside Down, and he wanted to make sure they could talk in private, but Max was mad and didn't want to see Lucas, so he had Keith help trick her into being alone with him under the condition that he'd get Keith a date with you, which—which doesn't matter anymore because you and Steve were getting along great at the arcade so Keith probably thinks that you're together and he missed his chance, which would be great because he can't compete with Steve and if Steve got to you first then it's not even Lucas's fault that he broke the deal. Anyway! Thanks for coming, love you, goodnight!"

Dustin bolted for his front door without looking back, and Christine was too overwhelmed to do anything but watch him flee. She stood in the yard for another minute or two, wrestling with shock, outrage, and unhinged laughter. It really was inexplicable that she enjoyed being part of the party. The only thing more baffling was that she hadn't killed them yet.