Dustin is holding the creature in his arms, laughing as it stretches its neck up to sniff at his face.
For several moments, Steve is frozen to the spot. He barely dares to breathe, certain that one wrong move could mean the difference between fire and life.
He takes a step forward.
"Put it down," he says, with calmness he doesn't feel.
The creature whirls its head. Dustin grips it closer.
"You put the bat down first," he says.
Two pairs of eyes gaze at Steve, one defiant, and the other one strangely blank, green, wondering. He becomes very aware of the fact that if it decides to breathe fire right now, the flame will most probably reach him, and that will be the end.
Somehow, the creature's mouth stays closed. For now.
Steve inhales and takes another step forward.
"Put it down," he repeats, his voice shaking only barely.
"No!"
Closing his eyes, trying to keep the bat as inconspicuous as possible, Steve takes a few more steps towards them.
"Dustin, for the last time," he breathes. "Put that thing down –"
"No, you'll hurt him!"
Several things happen at the same time. Dustin squeezes the creature close to his chest, causing it to squeak and wiggle away from his grasp. It spreads its translucent wings and flies a couple of feet above them, then lands on the floor to Steve's left.
Slowly, Steve turns until he's facing the creature directly. His heart starts pounding hard, and fear starts climbing up his burning throat, and he can hear Dustin screaming something through the white hot buzz in his ears. Everything seems to slow down around him. He takes a deep breath, and, his entire body shaking, raises the bat…
From the floor, the creature looks at him.
Its eyes are huge and green, its pupils gazing directly into his.
Moments trickle by like sand… stretching into what feels like eternity.
And Steve realizes something.
(How come there's no fire?)
No matter how many times he's fought the Demogorgon and the Demodogs, his body acting out of pure fear and instinct to save others and himself from being devoured…
(Why isn't it defending itself?)
… he has never…
(Why is it just)
… actually…
(staring at me?)
… killed something with eyes before.
The bat clatters to the floor.
The dragon looks at it curiously, then back up at Steve.
Shaking, Steve sags to the floor.
Time seems to pick up again, and the noise in his ears dwindles to a faint ringing.
From Dustin's end, there's a relieved sigh.
"For a moment there I thought you were really going to do it," he murmurs, and sniffles.
Steve looks at him, but says nothing.
Dustin walks over and picks the creature up. It snuggles into his arms, those impossibly green eyes still wide, still soft and curious as if it was never under any threat at all.
"He needs to have a name," Dustin coos, wiping his eyes. "We need to find a name for you." He pets the dragon's head gently, and it leans into his touch.
"How do you know it's a he?" Steve says weakly, still on the floor.
"Oh. I guess I don't, exactly." He seems to think. "Well, we can think of both male and female dragon names, and then, when we see which ones we like best –"
"Dustin," Steve says.
The kid gives him a guilty look. For a moment they just stare at each other, and Steve tries to communicate something helpless with his eyes because words have failed him, but he has no idea what he's even trying to say.
Because what can he say?
The doorbell makes them both jump.
Dustin places the dragon on the couch and scrambles to the window. He peeks through the curtains.
"Shit," he says. "That's my mom. Shit!"
"Your mom," Steve gasps, and his heart starts pounding like crazy again. "Your mom's here?"
They look at each other in horror for a minute, not moving, as if the lack of movement could make the situation go away somehow.
The doorbell rings again.
"Oh my god oh my god oh my god," Dustin begins, walking up and down and clutching his head. "What are we going to do?"
Steve swallows. He tries to think, but he can't seem to get his brain to work, and nothing comes to mind except for what seems, at the same time, like the most logical and most insane thing they could do.
"… Let's just open the door."
Dustin looks at him for a few moments, then nods. He gives Steve a hand up, which is good, because his legs feel like jelly and he has no idea how he'd get up otherwise.
They walk towards the door, and as he reaches for the handle, Steve half expects something horrible to happen.
Mrs. Henderson's gentle smile has never looked so out of place.
"Hi, mom," Dustin squeaks.
"Good evening, Mrs. Henderson."
"Hi, boys," she says kindly. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Steve says with what he hopes sounds like assurance, sweating, "just a bit of a sore throat –"
Dustin gives him a light kick in the shin.
"Steve is actually really sick, mom," he says. "He had a fever and everything. So I've decided to stay and take care of him."
There's relief, until –
"Not a chance, Dusty, it's a school night."
"But mom –"
"Absolutely not."
The whole scene seems surreal. The brief relief he's felt has disappeared, but nothing has replaced it yet, and Steve feels as if he's floating above them all, gazing down at a boy arguing with his mother and a guy who looks like death warmed up and whose knees are shaking so bad it's a miracle he doesn't fall.
"Mom, you don't understand –"
"I won't hear another word," Mrs. Henderson says. Then she smiles. "Well, come on, go pack," she tells Steve.
"What?"
"You didn't think we'd let you stay here all alone while you're sick, did you? You're coming with us –"
"NO!" they yell.
Mrs. Henderson gives a start. She looks at them both in shock, then zeroes in on her son.
"Dusty!" she begins sternly. "I'm surprised at you. Stevie is your friend! He is ill, and he needs our care and attention to –"
"No, Mrs. Henderson – really, I – I'm fine," he interjects, bringing his hands up.
She looks at him in clear disbelief and he realizes his voice is too hoarse to be convincing, so he tries to clear his throat, which only makes it worse.
"It sounds worse than it actually is," he croaks. "Really. Dustin just... uh... wanted to use the opportunity to teach me about Dungeons and Dragons."
Mrs. Henderson rolls her eyes fondly.
"Those boys and their silly games. You listen to them for five minutes and you almost believe dragons are real!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Dustin elbows Steve in the ribs, and Steve joins in the nervous laughter.
"In any case, Stevie, I won't hear of it. I've already laid out the spare bed for you. You can spend the entire day reading comic books while Dusty's at school tomorrow, and I'll make us a nice lunch. What do you say?"
"Uh…" Steve opens his mouth hopefully, the smell of Mrs. Henderson's untasted chicken soup fresh in his senses.
Then he remembers there's a dragon in his house.
"… Thank you for offering, Mrs. Henderson," he says, trying to keep the regret out of his voice. "Seriously, that's really, really kind of you. But… I just wanna sleep in my own bed, if that's okay. Really, don't worry about me. I feel great."
He forces his mouth into a smile.
Mrs. Henderson makes a tutting sound.
"I don't like this one bit," she says disapprovingly, "but I guess I can't force you into the car." She gives a small shrug of disappointment. "If you change your mind at any time, all you need to do is call. I'll come and pick you right up."
"Thank you. Really, thank you for that."
She beams at him, then beckons to her son.
"Well, let's go, Dusty. Get your bike."
Dustin gives Steve a desperate look, but there's nothing Steve can think of that would make Mrs. Henderson let her son stay.
Dustin's expression grows more desperate.
"I'll call you," he says. "Just… remember what I told you. Uh… about the game. Not all dragons are bad, and we CAN'T hurt them –"
"Dusty, Stevie is tired, you two can play some other time."
They all walk to the car together, and Mrs. Henderson ushers her son in. Dustin's pleading gaze never leaves Steve's eyes.
"You promised," he mouths. Steve bites his lip.
"Take care of yourself, Stevie," Mrs. Henderson is saying as she turns on the ignition. "Go to bed early and remember to drink plenty of fluids. And don't forget, we're only a phone call away."
"I won't," he says. He smiles and waves.
They drive away, Dustin's worried face still visible until the car turns round a corner.
Steve stands there and smiles for several more moments. Then he bolts back inside, locks the door and runs to the living room.
It takes him half a second to realize that the dragon isn't there anymore.
"Shit."