You have no idea how close I am to trying to find mittens for your hands and duct tape to keep them in place, because you are just
[ man, these little phones are dangerous, huh???? because she can just go typing away and send out whatever thought she thinks without hesitation. which isn't embarrassing at all, nope. ]
There's still some left in the tube we used the first time. I've got it with me here.
[ which, belatedly, was pretty foolish of her. but maybe she didn't think he'd just take the bandages off himself! or. just. without her there. for some reason. but if he was already feeling itchy, maybe she skimped too much on the neosporin the first time. hm. ]
Do you remember the part where I said it was itchy? Why would you want to add a third itchy into that situation?
( no duct taping mittens onto him, Nancy, he rejects that idea. )
Well, I thought I had some, too. But I don't. Should have checked on that before I took the bandages off, you don't have to say it, I know. Is there a similar itch relief option I can use, or am I just cursed to wanting finish the job.
They're supposed to stop you from being able to scratch where it itches, so you don't end up accidentally making it worse.
What? No, I meant that you should just come over to patch back up now, use the rest of the one I have here. Or I can do it, if you want. If it'll be easier that way? Patching you up, I mean.
You don't have to, obviously, but you can. We'll just have to restock tomorrow.
Then the cuts would itch, my neck would itch, and my hands would itch. This place is already nightmare enough without three times the itchy.
( it isn't as if Nancy is far. none of them had wanted to pick apartments too far from the group, just in case. still, it didn't really click Nancy was suggesting he come over, until she says it in plain English.
he's just used to being left to his own devices, in the aftermath. Nancy already fixed him up once, with that stern quiet look on her face that was probably an attempt to not look obviously worried. it does feel a bit like he should clean up his own mess, since he's the one that made it. )
You sure you aren't sleeping? Obviously you aren't sleeping. You're answering. I'm just saying you could be sleeping, instead of being stuck patching up the same guy twice.
Alright, alright, you're right, you totally win this time, okay? No mittens, promise.
[ since when does she fold so quickly, you ask? since right now. not that she was actually going to find mittens for him, she's pretty sure no amount of worry could actually get her to that level. ... pretty sure. ]
We both should be sleeping, technically. But I will honestly, genuinely sleep better tonight, if you let me do this for you. It's a completely selfish request, scouts honor. Just come over, okay? Please? Or I can go to yours. Either one.
Not like you could find mittens in a coastal ghost town, anyway. Please don't take that as a challenge to learn how to knit just to one up me on the existence of mittens.
( Steve is already sure he's going to have nightmares about the triple itchy he's so desperate to avoid, even without Nancy bothering to procure any mittens. though, if he has nightmares about that, he can't have nightmares about a monstrous ghost nearly ripping his throat out, or cutting his own arm open, so, maybe dreaming about wanting to crawl out of his skin wouldn't be so bad. Nancy might have done him a favor, here.
it doesn't really sound selfish on paper there, Nance, but with the idea of Nancy's sleep on the line, Steve can't really insist that he'll handle it himself. maybe he doesn't want to handle it himself, anyway. )
Okay, okay. I'll come over. I just need to find a shirt.
( a shirt he can put on without scraping down the open front of his throat, which, might be a challenge. )
[ challenging nancy to not take the challenge challenge. well played, harrington.
also, while he's busy thinking about itchy nightmares, nancy's trying to convince herself she didn't just zone out for 8 actual seconds weighing the pros and cons of offering to meet him at his, so he wouldn't have to worry (?) about finding a shirt (????). you'd think it would be a no-brainer, but it turns out that for nancy, it's taking some serious consideration. luckily by the end of those 8 seconds, she's very aware that it would be weird. so. phew. also, the town is unnervingly back to normal, again, so she shoves back that urge to offer to meet him halfway. he'll be okay. ]
Good! Then I'll see you soon.
Oh, maybe grab something that zips up, or buttons. That way the collar won't be in the way, or make things even itchier once the bandages are back on. [ no, there's no actual way that nancy knew he might be trying to figure out what shirt to pick. she just really is that bossy sometimes. ] And I'm sure just about every house surrounding ours has their front door light on, I know, but.. Be careful.
( right. a button up. that's smart. he'll feel like he's dressing up for a job interview, but it'll make it easier to avoid his neck and they can kill a few buttons to make sure Nancy can see what she's doing. Nancy has a total pass here, it doesn't seem bossy OR horny, just entirely practical. very Nancy, to even know what shirt he should wear. )
I'll be careful. Though, fool us once, huh? Seems like shit mostly goes sideways at the end of a month.
( which is weirdly predictable. right? they should all hunker down together, the last week of a month. just in case. Steve isn't known for his great ideas, but that one just seems to be a no brainer at this point. he will try bringing it up to the group. ...later. right now he needs to hope the creepy beachy ghost town that goes entirely mental the last few days of the month has seen fit to grant him with one of the button ups that mostly went neglected in his closet.
turns out, it has, though, Steve almost wishes it hadn't. zipping himself half into a windbreaker would probably be less embarrassing than the only button up he finds in his closet, a birds-of-paradise number he vaguely remembers getting as a souvenir when his parents went to Hawaii. it looks like he should be going to practice picking up spares with his fellow retired bowling buddies. but it isn't like he's trying to look his best here, right? Nancy is winding another set of unbearably itchy bandages around his neck and then he'll be going right back to his own place to... probably continue to not sleep. though, hopefully the antibiotic will help on the itchy front.
so fine. button up it is. it's fine that it looks ridiculous, he's totally at peace with it. it isn't as if this is the best he's ever looked, with open slashes on his neck and raccoon eyes from not sleeping and ugly bat bite scars that have mostly healed, but only to the angry purple raised scar stage. determined to be an obvious reminder of that other time he nearly died, recently.
Nancy will hear a knock, in less than fifteen minutes. when she opens the door, she will find Steve Harrington looking a lot less self assured than usual. maybe it's the tropical shirt, maybe it's the neck injuries, maybe it's that it's almost 4am and somehow showing up for personal nursing after hours just feels different than it did before. who knows. ) Hey, ( he says, and oh, good, he was smart enough not to walk around with his neck unbandaged. he's holding some gauze there, at least there was a slight attempt to keep it covered. ) Don't ask about the shirt, all right? So where do you want me?
( to patch up his neck, that is. obviously. there's nothing suspect about that phrasing at all. )
[ she almost immediately texts back with a "you noticed that too, huh? it really does seem that way. i wonder how that's even possible?" but she resists, because they can definitely just talk about it once he's actually here. plus, she's realizing that her bedtime wardrobe choice of "just a big t-shirt" probably isn't going to cut it for the plans she just made, so she moseys on over to her bedroom to find the pair of worn-and-washed-thin flannel pants that showed up in her closet a couple weeks ago. they're half of an old matching pajama set that she really thought she donated a long time ago, but maybe... didn't? it's probably fine. ... and a bralette for under the loose shirt, yes, definitely. because it! seems like the appropriate thing to do. right? yes.
she rubs the heels of both hands against her eyes as she heads to the bathroom to gather her mostly stocked first-aid kit from the cabinet, then takes a brief moment to check her reflection in the small mirror above the sink. because steve is definitely not the only one that hasn't quite nailed her impression of someone who can actually sleep well at night, and she just needs to see what she's dealing with right now. even if it doesn't matter. although she does get a little bit distracted, because she still isn't used to the way the ocean air makes her curls look different. and she doesn't know how she feels about that???? she paid a lot of money to get all that frizzy volume she rocked back in hawkins, thank you very much!!
but anyway. she's back in her small living room by the time he knocks on her door, and already moved a lamp and repositioned one of her dining room chairs next to the small table where her medkit sits open, so she could have him sit somewhere with decent light this time. which will be an improvement, because she- may have been too focused on getting him cleaned up and assessing the damage to pay much attention to how comfortable or practical she was about bandaging him up, the first time. she's quick to answer the door, and- ]
... Hi. [ maybe he doesn't love the shirt he has on, but it turns out to be the perfect thing to unravel the small twist of worry that's been hanging out in nancy's chest since he first texted her. seeing him holding the gauze to his neck does too, actually. she's smiling, and luckily the expression is really too soft to look like she's trying not to tease him. if anything she looks about ready to tell him that she likes the shirt. but- no, okay, she can compliment the shirt later. ] Um. [ PHRASING. she takes a quick step back to invite him in, then points as she shuts the door behind him, immediately locking the bolt. because fuck you, monsters. ] There, at the table this time.
( Steve doesn't... really... officially know what Nancy wears to bed, it is a part of her that is out of his known lexicon. when they were dating, sneaking over eventually faded into being publicly welcomed. even being permitted a parking spot in the driveway. that didn't quite extend to sleepovers, though. he'd tried to convince Nancy to stay the night with him a couple of times his parents wouldn't be around to protest the idea (frankly, he's not sure they'd have protested, even if they were around), but she always had a good reason not to.
and, distantly, Steve supposes his house and his bedroom held too many memories. mostly bad ones. not exactly conducive to sleeping. he gets it, he got pretty used to sleeping on the couch in his den, the first couple months after Barb disappeared. seeing the sallow glow of the pool reflecting on his wall made sleep feel impossible.
Nancy looks cozy, like this. comfortable. softer. like she was actually in bed, before he woke her up. it's cute, though, something about it being mismatched is a surprise. apparently he's not the only one who made a concentrated effort to not make that much of an effort. his tropical shirt is paired with sweatpants, because shock and awe, Steve Harrington doesn't sit around by himself in impossibly tight jeans. at least there's some kind of relief in reading the situation right. Steve doesn't entirely know what he's doing, yet, being just friends with Nancy Wheeler. that both of them independently decided slouchy and mismatched was appropriate for this meeting is kind of a relief.
so is the lock slipped into place behind him. even if it'd do jack shit if Rhodos was really going to shit.
Steve navigates to the table, as directed, and considering the chair pulled out is an obvious telegraph, ignores expectation and sits on the table, instead. ) It's itching like crazy, I don't know why. It doesn't look... infected? Or anything? ( Steve hasn't actually gotten a good look at his own scratches, actually, between them getting bandaged at the gala and since then wrapped up properly when the town went back to relative normal. he pulls back the gauze, a slight grimace on his face. not so much from pain, just, the discomfort of someone having to worry about him, mostly. ) I don't know. Felt like something was wrong, I looked, and nothing is. Got in my head about it, I guess.
( look, after you've been tentacled and seen Mindflayer hunks writhing independently, you get a little more unsettled about an injury from a monstrous creature feeling a little funny. )
[ ... she had a plan, harrington. a course of action to make sure she could improve the way she bandaged his neck the first time, without making him have to sit still with his head at an odd angle for too long, but- okay, sure, just sit on her dining room table. that's also an option. she's a little too sleepy to keep her expression even as she tries to readjust the gameplan, but there's nothing like someone saying "it doesn't look infected or anything" to get a girl to very quickly refocus on what's happening right in front of her.
and as she first approaches the table, she seems more concerned with the very deliberate and strategic planning needed to figure out where she should stand, and how she should position herself, which is how she ends up sort of to the side of him, near his hip? and then taking a couple quick peeks around to make sure she's not blocking any of the light. but then he said that, and her eyes widen because oh shit okay he's just going to move the gauze away and she's just going to have to deal with how those insane claw marks look like right now and okay okay okay-!! ] --wuh-!-
[ ( look, nancy's had a monster that was literally made up of actual melted people, get ALL up in her face and scream bloody murder, and was able to walk away pretty much fine, but like!! she would still appreciate a warning before she's suddenly given an up-close look at the brutal injuries of someone she cares about. ..as a friend. a friend's brutal injuries. ) ]
... Wait.
[ so, okay. getting really quiet when steve's obviously really concerned probably wasn't the coolest thing to do, but her expression is shifting to something more positive, pretty much right away, at least? still so confused, but. positive. and for all the effort she put into making sure she wasn't too much in his personal space, she sure is stepping around his knee in one fluid motion so she can stand in front of him properly, personal space be damned. really damned, because - ] I need to- Can I just-? [ - she's only giving him a quiet and honestly wildly vague heads up before she's reaching to brace one hand at the back of his neck for support, carefully urging him to slowly tip his head back just the tiniest bit with a soft squeeze, while her other hand does a sort of hovering-but-maybe-not-TOTALLY-not-touching scan along each of the individual scratches on his neck. she scrubbed the hell out of her hands before, okay, she promises! ] Definitely not infected, no. [ she probably should have said that sooner, yeah, and maybe with some enthusiasm? but she mainly still sounds ridiculously distracted. or confused. both. ] And they just feel really itchy? That's the only difference? [ she might literally be tracing along what were the very edges of the cuts just a few nights ago, but now they're the very edges of the healing? tissue?? along them? ] I don't get it. [ which is why she's still investigating. carefully! but also still pretty intrusively, all things considered. ]
Edited (tense consistency is for losers) 2022-10-02 05:55 (UTC)
( Steve really wasn't meaning to jumpscare Nancy with the severity of his injury. the short period of time he'd spent staring at it in his mirror, it hadn't honestly seemed that bad. in fact, he'd been surprised how much the bastards had been bleeding at the gala, all things considered. sure didn't seem gnarly enough to mess with his voice (though, okay, maybe that was more getting choked to the point of not being able to speak, instead of the gashes across his throat). there's an apology lost before it makes it out of his mouth, because Nancy goes from cringing away to immediately fixated on his neck.
the hushed, serious tone is not helpful, that's a fact. was there something horrible he missed, when he was looking at it on his own? Steve looks distantly uncomfortable, swallows. he doesn't want to be right, that the itching meant something was wrong, very wrong, and that's just what he goddamn needs, in nightmare town. only Nancy doesn't clarify, instead shifts between his legs instead of standing next to him. which is more distracting than it has any right to be. yeah, uh, maybe sitting on the table was a mistake, actually. Nancy tilts his head upwards and it's a bizarre relief, actually, looking at the ceiling instead of the intense blue of her eyes. he especially can't afford to look at her when her fingers are running the oversensitive skin of his neck. it hurts, a little, but not as much as he'd expect, either. )
Yeah. Itchy. Wrong. Or... I don't know. Different. ( and different felt wrong, sitting around by himself not sleeping. Steve hazards looking back at Nancy, because her astonished, limited communication is not working for him, here. ) Don't get what? Is it getting worse? ( goddamn it, Robin is wearing off on him. got his head full of ideas of rabies and bacteria, surely creepy ghosts are not the most sanitary things to have their claws embedded in your skin. (
[ she says it almost passively, the jerk, like he asked her if she thinks it's supposed to rain later, and she doesn't want him to think she's ignoring him even if she's still busy trying to process what she's looking at. it's not until she stops to just look again that she clues into how she's actually making him nervous, thanks to the way her thumb happened to be resting over his pulse point for a moment. it's not racing or anything, but she feels the thrum of it almost too easily, and that has her blinking a few times, then leaning back to actually look at his face again. ]
No, no, it's definitely not getting worse, I promise. It actually seems to be healing up a lot faster than it reasonably should. Which is a good thing, obviously, even if it doesn't make any sense. [ she smiles, adds a little more confidence to her tone, nods. ] You're okay. [ then she sighs, and it's the same sigh of relief that always follows the moment she knows steve's okay. which has been happening waaaaay more often than it should, honestly. but anyway! it's only around now that she realizes she has no reason to still have her hand curled around the back of his neck, and her eyes dart sideways, which probably completely ruins her effort to seem very casual about sliding it down to his shoulder instead, but she tried. from there she moves both of her hands away, dropping to sit on the edge of the table in front of her, but that's actually much worse!! considering it puts them in such close proximity to- his sweatpants, mhm, yep, yeah. soooo- ] But they're not completely healed, so they still need to be covered back up for now. [ that's her cue to step back and move around to where her medkit is sitting next to him on the table ]
( just a little nervous. Rhodos isn't exactly a warm and welcoming place. and he's been banged up a few too many times lately for even Steve's comfort. he never regrets being the one wearing the blunt force trauma and bruises, of course. it's just that as of late he's starting to notice it all adding up. Billy breaking a plate on his face, Jonathan trying to relocate his nose to the back of his throat. all that left little marks, squint in the right sort of light and you could spot them. if you're looking.
two dozen bat bites all over his body, half his back scraped off onto the Upside Down ground, and now three demented clawmarks down the front of his throat? it's just... a lot. that's all. this isn't an injury he can zip up or hide. he's running out of skin that isn't fucked up by something, at this point. and it can be worth the pain and hard on his confidence, simultaneously.
Steve's shoulders relent, in a clear telegraph of relief when Nancy assures him that he's okay. it isn't like he doesn't already know he can walk and talk and function, he's mostly aware he's fine. close enough to fine, considering the circumstances. it's still a relief to have Nancy confirm it, especially after getting stirred up about the endless itching. ) Okay, ( Steve agrees, a quietly relieved sigh more than anything. if only he could be so distracted by the affirmation of his health, he wouldn't notice Nancy's wandering hands.
instead, he definitely does notice. the hand behind his neck isn't that suspect, neither is sliding to his shoulder. not really. but, uh, her hands momentarily landing between his legs, well, uh ... maybe that one feels a bit strange, considering their history. why did he sit on this table instead of someplace more convenient, again? there's a chair right there. though, somehow the idea of looking up at Nancy as she's positioned between his legs isn't easier to imagine platonically than the position they're in now, so... what was that? covered up. focus up, Harrington. )
Right. ( that's what he's here for. so Nancy can patch him up, and rest assured she's put the jock back in relative working order, maybe get some sleep tonight. ) Yeah, of course. Chin up, huh? ( this is totally normal, and he's handling it. chin up, no untoward thoughts about his ex girlfriend and wandering hands between his legs. nope, not him. as if to prove how platonic his thoughts definitely are, Steve persists on changing the subject, as if just keeping a dialog going can keep his thoughts from wandering. ) Healing faster than they should be? That's... I mean, I'm not complaining. But that's weird. Right?
It's definitely weird. But it might be the first good weird thing to happen here so far. [ a beat ] Okay, the endless gelato is nice, but I appreciate this surprise a lot more.
[ what? it's true. and it would have been true even if she found out that everyone else's injuries are healing faster, and not just because it's steve. in case there was any doubt about that. it's not so specific. anyway, she's shifting things around in her first aid kit, occasionally glancing at him to take a look at the cuts along his neck, maybe a little too pleased she doesn't have to use the larger bandage pads to cover them properly now. but she still needs to be careful, obviously, because his neck might be further along in the healing process than expected, but she's sure it's just as sensitive as a fresh wound. so she'll just use the softer tape. good.
but first she's tearing open a couple alcohol swabs, unfolding each one in what's probably a pretty suspicious way. but it's only because she gets distracted by the bandage on his arm, which was covering a cut that was a lot more straight forward than what happened to his neck. she opens and closes her hand almost reflexively, suddenly reminded of the scar left behind from the clean cut across her palm. ]
Hey- You should check your arm, too. It wasn't as deep, right? You might not even need the gauze anymore. [ she turns to face him properly again, one of those little square swabs resting on the tips of her fingers, bringing the stingy smell of isopropyl alcohol with it. ] --Sorry. I need to wipe off the residue left behind by the tape. I don't see anything too close to the cuts, so it shouldn't sting, but I'll try to be quick. [ and she can actually see where exactly she's wiping this time, since his neck isn't uhh covered in blood, so she isn't running thee risk of nudging anywhere that'll sting like crazy. ..hopefully. ] I'll let you do the honors of peeling all that tape off your arm. Just- Try not to move around too much, okay?
( Steve makes a noise, instead of an answer. hmmmmmm, expression twisted slightly into a frown. healing faster than he should is good on paper, he just doesn't have it in him to trust something that doesn't make sense. it doesn't seem in the spirit of this nightmare beach town to fix him up faster than normal, so then... why? and what? who, maybe. he doesn't like it, though he also doesn't know what to do about it. a question without an easy answer, pretty far outside of his wheelhouse. so he should probably just let it go.
Nancy fussing around in the supplies isn't as suspicious as she thinks, or maybe Steve is just distracted, too. what she says isn't at all what he's expecting, and the hand of the uninjured arm grips at his own leg, frown curling a little deeper. his gut instinct is to defer. oh, I'll check later. let you know. but that'd be stupid, wouldn't it?
the injury on his arm just... feels different, somehow. the gashes on his throat, those are parr for the course. he wasn't alert enough, he got hurt, at least it wasn't somebody else. getting help to look after them makes sense. the one on his arm, though, well... that wasn't something out of his control. it's something he did to himself, out of his mind on the weird food at the party, sure. but in the end, still self inflicted. it sets his stomach sour, reminds him of the copper on the back of his tongue as he made the cut worse in his desperation for more. Steve is a lot more uncomfortable about that injury than the objectively more gnarly one striped across his throat.
so he's silent, a long stretch, a hint of a wince more at the smell of the alcohol and the awareness it'll burn a little than the actual pain of Nancy trying to make sure the cuts are clean. he's sort of gotten used to the antiseptic burn of alcohol on wounds, which is sad. Steve keeps his chin high, in the interest of giving Nancy easy access (once again, phrasing!!!). it'd be easier access if she were still stationed between his legs, though he supposes it is likely for the best that she's not.
he has to reach past her to fuss with the bandages. the cut on his arm itched a little, too, it was just he didn't want to look at what he'd done to himself, so he had ignored it. it's a bit awkward, trying to stay still, open a bandage on his dominant hand. he still manages, though. and when he has it half off, he understands a lot more intimately Nancy's confusion from before. because he'd been a lot more familiar with the cut on his arm, being the one to put it there. ) What the hell, ( Steve murmurs, because it is unbelievably strange to see his skin half knitted together, just an angry looking scab, instead of an open clean cut. )
[ to his credit, even though she can feel the uptick in tension ( she's like, right there, how could she not? ) it's not super obvious what's causing it. not right away at least. but she clocked the way the hand that was just resting on his thigh is now actively gripping it, and that, paired with the change in his expression, could just be a reaction to her announcing that she'd soon be brandishing an alcohol swab, but it doesn't really seem that way. he managed to just breathe through her tightly wrapping a wide band of her sweater around his torso after being attacked by demon bats ( okay, there was some grunting, but she's been actively avoiding thinking about those particular sounds ever since they literally fucking echoed through the upside down, and she's not about to stop now ), so tensing at the thought of the sting of rubbing alcohol seems weird.
she's also pretending she doesn't know perfectly well that this would be easier for both of them if she would just move to stand between his knees again. she's pretty damn determined to stick with the choice of standing off to the side. and her position does actually make it easier to reach certain patches of adhesive that stuck to his neck even after he took off the tape, but she's a little stumped once she realizes she can't actually.. see what's going on, on the other side. from here. hm. frick.
luckily, steve has the incredible timing of getting enough of the bandage off of his forearm to give her something else to focus on at the moment, and she genuinely never thought she'd have a reason to smile so openly at the appearance of a scab, but that's just her life now, apparently. ]
Right? [ she leans down to get a little bit of a closer look, but it really doesn't seem like there's anything sinister about it. it just looks like it's had a couple weeks worth of healing, instead of just days. ] It looks good, you might even- [ she stands up straight again, squeezing his shoulder as she directs her smile his way now. but steve still looks... not queasy, exactly. she doesn't think he's suddenly squeamish about seeing his own injuries. but he's obviously distracted by more than just the fact that he's managed to double-time it through the healing process, and jesus, what is it about the way he frowns that makes her heart ache? it's ridiculous. ] You okay? [ it probably shouldn't feel like a sensitive question that should probably go unspoken, but it kind of is, and yet she still asks him anyway. she doesn't know he got the cut on his arm, but she did witness the way some people seemed more than a little out of control of their own actions. she assumed someone attacked him. which is definitely enough to fuck someone up - being attacked by another person is different than being attacked by a monster - but she doesn't know for sure what happened. she bites her lip, and she's not as good at hiding her concern as she thinks she is, no ] You- don't have to take the bandage off yet, if you don't want to. It looks clean, I can just put a new piece of tape over it.
( no, it isn't the alcohol, or the sting. though that'd be an easy excuse, it really is too bad that Nancy is so intensely aware of how used to being banged up and patched over he is. because for all Steve has gotten better about talking about things, some things still feel better off unspoken. how to even explain, why he's suddenly more on edge, when objectively this should be good. he was worried about how ugly all these new marks would heal up, and they're already halfway there, somehow! good news. it should be good news. Nancy sure seems to think it is. Steve should agree, that it looks good. let it go, leave it behind, worry about it later. or never, never sounds good, too.
only, he's starting to learn that sooner or later, it catches up anyway. the ugly things he doesn't want to talk about. isn't sure how to talk about. things that feel better left unsaid. they go rotten and cruel and crooked, worse for being ignored. or they just hurt, holding on when it'd be easier to just say it. maybe it wouldn't change anything, to have them out of his system. but at least he wouldn't be on his own, trying to carry and contain something too heavy for anyone to handle alone.
Nancy's hand on his shoulder feels like an anchor, comfort that Steve isn't entirely sure he deserves. it makes him feel a little worse, in fact, for not saying anything — which is stupid. telling Nancy he cut a huge gash in his arm personally is not going to make her worry less. she's not going to pull away in disgust or anything, he knows that. in fact, it will definitely make her worry more. the idea of that is almost enough to keep from saying anything, because Steve doesn't want her to worry about him. or... he does, and he doesn't. she's got enough to worry about, here, she doesn't have to worry about him, too. but if it happened to him, then it's some wrinkle to this place they all should know about, right? so maybe they could stop it, next time around.
his shoulders sag, a little, dark eyes wandering a little from the gash. Nancy's comfortable shirt. absolutely giant, actually, where did she get a shirt this big??? and why??? it's a nice distraction. cute. grounding. compared to what has to come out of his mouth, ugly and unhappy. )
I don't like looking at it. It was the... the food, I think. One of the meats? I don't know. But it just made me so hungry, I wanted... ( Steve grimaces, because fuck. talking about shit! is harder! than he thought! especially confessing to Nancy goddamn Wheeler that he cannibalized his own arm, all right? it isn't fun. so the rest of it comes out in a rush. ) I did it to myself, Nance, all right? Something here, got in my head, and I couldn't stop. I wanted blood, like... like a goddamn vampire. What the fuck. So I did it, for more, that was all I could think about. ( his shoulders slump a little further, and Nancy will have to hold on or she'll slip right off, like his body is determined to reject undeserved comfort. Nancy should know it is a risk, another freaky fucked wrinkle to being here, but she shouldn't have to try and reassure him because he should have known better, or fought it, or something.
and he didn't. )
I just don't like looking at it. That's all. ( Steve repeats, tone a little dulled down and distant. so, yeah. even if it is scabbed over, keeping it covered. yup. they should do that. )
[ what the fuck is an understatement. her brain automatically starts to compartmentalize the different parts of his story, although it's really just three compartments. one she uses to store the points about what happened that she needs to keep in mind for the future, and that they need to share with the other displaced hawkins teens, as soon as they touch base with them next, if they don't know already. the second is the vampire box that contains the points she's not going to address because she can tell it was hard enough for him to say it the first time, and the third is empty and reserved for whatever comes to mid while she processes what he's saying. and for her to mentally rampage instead of actually doing it. she feels sort of sick. and really pissed off. and the way she presses her lips into a thin line is her only outward reaction to it, but it's not subtle.
her hand doesn't exactly slide forward as he slouches even further, it ends up kind of staying where it was, except now that means it's the back of his shoulder under her palm. she's absently rubbing her thumb back and forth right there before she can think better of it, but even once she notices it, she doesn't actually have that gut impulse to take her hand back, or give him a little more space again. she just gives him one sweep of her full hand, down just past his shoulder blade, before moving it back where it was ]
Steve... [ packing a bunch of emotion into the way she says his name is apparently a hard habit to break. ] I'm sorry you had to go through something like that. Shit. I knew this place liked to mess with our heads, but I never thought it could do things that made that so.. literal. [ she shakes her head, watching him for just a moment longer before dropping her attention back to the half removed bandage, then her first aid kit. then the small roll of tape she already took out and put next to the box. smart move, past!nancy.
and in the interest of keeping things simple, she does loop around his knee to stand between his legs again, her eyes flicking up just once to make sure the rewind to her original spot doesn't make him wildly uncomfortable. from there she gently guides him to extend his arm, then takes to ripping a longerish strip of tape off the roll and carefully realigning it with the original piece of tape before smoothing it down with a light slide of two fingers.
there's a short pause after that, but she ends up siding her hand down his arm that last little bit from the edge of the bandage, and curl her fingers over the back of his hand to give him another squeeze. she watches her hand as she does it, instead of his face, but eventually she looks up again, attempting to catch his gaze. ]
So... I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last ..minute - [ not really. it's a thought she's entertained actually voicing for quite a few, um, years at this point. but the corner of her mouth quirks up to give him the world's tinies smile at her own joke ] And I've decided that you're not allowed to get hurt anymore. Not even a stubbed toe. Not even a paper cut. Got it? [ she tilts her head sideways a little bit more, still trying to convince him to look at her without actually telling or asking him to ] I'm very serious about this, so I'm going to need some verbal confirmation, Harrington.
Yeah. ( the world's most lackluster answer to a conversation that is this heavy. but what the hell is he supposed to say? there's no good answer. there's no right words for this situation. and if there is, Steve Harrington was never gonna be the guy to know them. instead his eyes linger on his arm, even as Nancy secures the bandage again. covering it up isn't quite as good as forgetting it happened entirely, but not having to look at it makes him feel immediately better, if nothing else.
Steve hasn't moved, much. even with Nancy shifting between his legs, fingers curling around his hand. trying to avoid looking her in the eye was the idea, but sitting exactly at her eye level makes it hard. especially when she seems determined to put her sleep rumpled curls directly in front of him. he doesn't respond much, at first, to Nancy's not-at-all spur of the moment proclamation. it takes awhile. not even a stubbed toe. not even a papercut! got it? the corner of his mouth wearily quirks upward, his attention finally shifting from somewhere past her shoulder back to Nancy's serious-but-trying-to-cheer-him-up-anyway expression. )
What about brainfreeze, from the fancy ice cream they've got here. ( he's just testing his boundaries, okay? that's all. he's not ready to give up ice cream! honestly, he's not entirely sure he's willing to promise he won't get hurt again. because if there's a situation where he can get in front of something trying to hurt someone, he's gonna do it. sorry, Nancy, that's just how it is. it's gonna happen. it is who Steve Harrington is, as a person. you couldn't convince him to get out of dodge in junior year, he's a lost cause now. )
I'll be careful, Nance. ( that's a promise he can make, without being a complete liar. and he will, he will be careful. does that really translate in not getting hurt? no. but careful is about all he can promise, in a place determined to fuck them up every month. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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have
no idea how close I am to trying to find mittens for your hands and duct tape to keep them in place, because you are just
[ man, these little phones are dangerous, huh???? because she can just go typing away and send out whatever thought she thinks without hesitation. which isn't embarrassing at all, nope. ]
There's still some left in the tube we used the first time. I've got it with me here.
[ which, belatedly, was pretty foolish of her. but maybe she didn't think he'd just take the bandages off himself! or. just. without her there. for some reason. but if he was already feeling itchy, maybe she skimped too much on the neosporin the first time. hm. ]
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( no duct taping mittens onto him, Nancy, he rejects that idea. )
Well, I thought I had some, too. But I don't. Should have checked on that before I took the bandages off, you don't have to say it, I know.
Is there a similar itch relief option I can use, or am I just cursed to wanting finish the job.
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What? No, I meant that you should just come over to patch back up now, use the rest of the one I have here.
Or I can do it, if you want.
If it'll be easier that way?
Patching you up, I mean.
You don't have to, obviously, but you can. We'll just have to restock tomorrow.
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( it isn't as if Nancy is far. none of them had wanted to pick apartments too far from the group, just in case. still, it didn't really click Nancy was suggesting he come over, until she says it in plain English.
he's just used to being left to his own devices, in the aftermath. Nancy already fixed him up once, with that stern quiet look on her face that was probably an attempt to not look obviously worried. it does feel a bit like he should clean up his own mess, since he's the one that made it. )
You sure you aren't sleeping?
Obviously you aren't sleeping. You're answering.
I'm just saying you could be sleeping, instead of being stuck patching up the same guy twice.
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[ since when does she fold so quickly, you ask? since right now. not that she was actually going to find mittens for him, she's pretty sure no amount of worry could actually get her to that level. ... pretty sure. ]
We both should be sleeping, technically.
But I will honestly, genuinely sleep better tonight, if you let me do this for you. It's a completely selfish request, scouts honor.
Just come over, okay? Please?
Or I can go to yours. Either one.
tw: self harm
Please don't take that as a challenge to learn how to knit just to one up me on the existence of mittens.
( Steve is already sure he's going to have nightmares about the triple itchy he's so desperate to avoid, even without Nancy bothering to procure any mittens. though, if he has nightmares about that, he can't have nightmares about a monstrous ghost nearly ripping his throat out, or cutting his own arm open, so, maybe dreaming about wanting to crawl out of his skin wouldn't be so bad. Nancy might have done him a favor, here.
it doesn't really sound selfish on paper there, Nance, but with the idea of Nancy's sleep on the line, Steve can't really insist that he'll handle it himself. maybe he doesn't want to handle it himself, anyway. )
Okay, okay.
I'll come over. I just need to find a shirt.
( a shirt he can put on without scraping down the open front of his throat, which, might be a challenge. )
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also, while he's busy thinking about itchy nightmares, nancy's trying to convince herself she didn't just zone out for 8 actual seconds weighing the pros and cons of offering to meet him at his, so he wouldn't have to worry (?) about finding a shirt (????). you'd think it would be a no-brainer, but it turns out that for nancy, it's taking some serious consideration. luckily by the end of those 8 seconds, she's very aware that it would be weird. so. phew. also, the town is unnervingly back to normal, again, so she shoves back that urge to offer to meet him halfway. he'll be okay. ]
Good! Then I'll see you soon.
Oh, maybe grab something that zips up, or buttons. That way the collar won't be in the way, or make things even itchier once the bandages are back on. [ no, there's no actual way that nancy knew he might be trying to figure out what shirt to pick. she just really is that bossy sometimes. ] And I'm sure just about every house surrounding ours has their front door light on, I know, but.. Be careful.
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I'll be careful.
Though, fool us once, huh? Seems like shit mostly goes sideways at the end of a month.
( which is weirdly predictable. right? they should all hunker down together, the last week of a month. just in case. Steve isn't known for his great ideas, but that one just seems to be a no brainer at this point. he will try bringing it up to the group. ...later. right now he needs to hope the creepy beachy ghost town that goes entirely mental the last few days of the month has seen fit to grant him with one of the button ups that mostly went neglected in his closet.
turns out, it has, though, Steve almost wishes it hadn't. zipping himself half into a windbreaker would probably be less embarrassing than the only button up he finds in his closet, a birds-of-paradise number he vaguely remembers getting as a souvenir when his parents went to Hawaii. it looks like he should be going to practice picking up spares with his fellow retired bowling buddies. but it isn't like he's trying to look his best here, right? Nancy is winding another set of unbearably itchy bandages around his neck and then he'll be going right back to his own place to... probably continue to not sleep. though, hopefully the antibiotic will help on the itchy front.
so fine. button up it is. it's fine that it looks ridiculous, he's totally at peace with it. it isn't as if this is the best he's ever looked, with open slashes on his neck and raccoon eyes from not sleeping and ugly bat bite scars that have mostly healed, but only to the angry purple raised scar stage. determined to be an obvious reminder of that other time he nearly died, recently.
Nancy will hear a knock, in less than fifteen minutes. when she opens the door, she will find Steve Harrington looking a lot less self assured than usual. maybe it's the tropical shirt, maybe it's the neck injuries, maybe it's that it's almost 4am and somehow showing up for personal nursing after hours just feels different than it did before. who knows. ) Hey, ( he says, and oh, good, he was smart enough not to walk around with his neck unbandaged. he's holding some gauze there, at least there was a slight attempt to keep it covered. ) Don't ask about the shirt, all right? So where do you want me?
( to patch up his neck, that is. obviously. there's nothing suspect about that phrasing at all. )
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she rubs the heels of both hands against her eyes as she heads to the bathroom to gather her mostly stocked first-aid kit from the cabinet, then takes a brief moment to check her reflection in the small mirror above the sink. because steve is definitely not the only one that hasn't quite nailed her impression of someone who can actually sleep well at night, and she just needs to see what she's dealing with right now. even if it doesn't matter. although she does get a little bit distracted, because she still isn't used to the way the ocean air makes her curls look different. and she doesn't know how she feels about that???? she paid a lot of money to get all that frizzy volume she rocked back in hawkins, thank you very much!!
but anyway. she's back in her small living room by the time he knocks on her door, and already moved a lamp and repositioned one of her dining room chairs next to the small table where her medkit sits open, so she could have him sit somewhere with decent light this time. which will be an improvement, because she- may have been too focused on getting him cleaned up and assessing the damage to pay much attention to how comfortable or practical she was about bandaging him up, the first time. she's quick to answer the door, and- ]
... Hi. [ maybe he doesn't love the shirt he has on, but it turns out to be the perfect thing to unravel the small twist of worry that's been hanging out in nancy's chest since he first texted her. seeing him holding the gauze to his neck does too, actually. she's smiling, and luckily the expression is really too soft to look like she's trying not to tease him. if anything she looks about ready to tell him that she likes the shirt. but- no, okay, she can compliment the shirt later. ] Um. [ PHRASING. she takes a quick step back to invite him in, then points as she shuts the door behind him, immediately locking the bolt. because fuck you, monsters. ] There, at the table this time.
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and, distantly, Steve supposes his house and his bedroom held too many memories. mostly bad ones. not exactly conducive to sleeping. he gets it, he got pretty used to sleeping on the couch in his den, the first couple months after Barb disappeared. seeing the sallow glow of the pool reflecting on his wall made sleep feel impossible.
Nancy looks cozy, like this. comfortable. softer. like she was actually in bed, before he woke her up. it's cute, though, something about it being mismatched is a surprise. apparently he's not the only one who made a concentrated effort to not make that much of an effort. his tropical shirt is paired with sweatpants, because shock and awe, Steve Harrington doesn't sit around by himself in impossibly tight jeans. at least there's some kind of relief in reading the situation right. Steve doesn't entirely know what he's doing, yet, being just friends with Nancy Wheeler. that both of them independently decided slouchy and mismatched was appropriate for this meeting is kind of a relief.
so is the lock slipped into place behind him. even if it'd do jack shit if Rhodos was really going to shit.
Steve navigates to the table, as directed, and considering the chair pulled out is an obvious telegraph, ignores expectation and sits on the table, instead. ) It's itching like crazy, I don't know why. It doesn't look... infected? Or anything? ( Steve hasn't actually gotten a good look at his own scratches, actually, between them getting bandaged at the gala and since then wrapped up properly when the town went back to relative normal. he pulls back the gauze, a slight grimace on his face. not so much from pain, just, the discomfort of someone having to worry about him, mostly. ) I don't know. Felt like something was wrong, I looked, and nothing is. Got in my head about it, I guess.
( look, after you've been tentacled and seen Mindflayer hunks writhing independently, you get a little more unsettled about an injury from a monstrous creature feeling a little funny. )
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and as she first approaches the table, she seems more concerned with the very deliberate and strategic planning needed to figure out where she should stand, and how she should position herself, which is how she ends up sort of to the side of him, near his hip? and then taking a couple quick peeks around to make sure she's not blocking any of the light. but then he said that, and her eyes widen because oh shit okay he's just going to move the gauze away and she's just going to have to deal with how those insane claw marks look like right now and okay okay okay-!! ] --wuh-!-
[ ( look, nancy's had a monster that was literally made up of actual melted people, get ALL up in her face and scream bloody murder, and was able to walk away pretty much fine, but like!! she would still appreciate a warning before she's suddenly given an up-close look at the brutal injuries of someone she cares about. ..as a friend. a friend's brutal injuries. ) ]
... Wait.
[ so, okay. getting really quiet when steve's obviously really concerned probably wasn't the coolest thing to do, but her expression is shifting to something more positive, pretty much right away, at least? still so confused, but. positive. and for all the effort she put into making sure she wasn't too much in his personal space, she sure is stepping around his knee in one fluid motion so she can stand in front of him properly, personal space be damned. really damned, because - ] I need to- Can I just-? [ - she's only giving him a quiet and honestly wildly vague heads up before she's reaching to brace one hand at the back of his neck for support, carefully urging him to slowly tip his head back just the tiniest bit with a soft squeeze, while her other hand does a sort of hovering-but-maybe-not-TOTALLY-not-touching scan along each of the individual scratches on his neck. she scrubbed the hell out of her hands before, okay, she promises! ] Definitely not infected, no. [ she probably should have said that sooner, yeah, and maybe with some enthusiasm? but she mainly still sounds ridiculously distracted. or confused. both. ] And they just feel really itchy? That's the only difference? [ she might literally be tracing along what were the very edges of the cuts just a few nights ago, but now they're the very edges of the healing? tissue?? along them? ] I don't get it. [ which is why she's still investigating. carefully! but also still pretty intrusively, all things considered. ]
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the hushed, serious tone is not helpful, that's a fact. was there something horrible he missed, when he was looking at it on his own? Steve looks distantly uncomfortable, swallows. he doesn't want to be right, that the itching meant something was wrong, very wrong, and that's just what he goddamn needs, in nightmare town. only Nancy doesn't clarify, instead shifts between his legs instead of standing next to him. which is more distracting than it has any right to be. yeah, uh, maybe sitting on the table was a mistake, actually. Nancy tilts his head upwards and it's a bizarre relief, actually, looking at the ceiling instead of the intense blue of her eyes. he especially can't afford to look at her when her fingers are running the oversensitive skin of his neck. it hurts, a little, but not as much as he'd expect, either. )
Yeah. Itchy. Wrong. Or... I don't know. Different. ( and different felt wrong, sitting around by himself not sleeping. Steve hazards looking back at Nancy, because her astonished, limited communication is not working for him, here. ) Don't get what? Is it getting worse? ( goddamn it, Robin is wearing off on him. got his head full of ideas of rabies and bacteria, surely creepy ghosts are not the most sanitary things to have their claws embedded in your skin. (
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[ she says it almost passively, the jerk, like he asked her if she thinks it's supposed to rain later, and she doesn't want him to think she's ignoring him even if she's still busy trying to process what she's looking at. it's not until she stops to just look again that she clues into how she's actually making him nervous, thanks to the way her thumb happened to be resting over his pulse point for a moment. it's not racing or anything, but she feels the thrum of it almost too easily, and that has her blinking a few times, then leaning back to actually look at his face again. ]
No, no, it's definitely not getting worse, I promise. It actually seems to be healing up a lot faster than it reasonably should. Which is a good thing, obviously, even if it doesn't make any sense. [ she smiles, adds a little more confidence to her tone, nods. ] You're okay. [ then she sighs, and it's the same sigh of relief that always follows the moment she knows steve's okay. which has been happening waaaaay more often than it should, honestly. but anyway! it's only around now that she realizes she has no reason to still have her hand curled around the back of his neck, and her eyes dart sideways, which probably completely ruins her effort to seem very casual about sliding it down to his shoulder instead, but she tried. from there she moves both of her hands away, dropping to sit on the edge of the table in front of her, but that's actually much worse!! considering it puts them in such close proximity to- his sweatpants, mhm, yep, yeah. soooo- ] But they're not completely healed, so they still need to be covered back up for now. [ that's her cue to step back and move around to where her medkit is sitting next to him on the table ]
hi my own messed up html
two dozen bat bites all over his body, half his back scraped off onto the Upside Down ground, and now three demented clawmarks down the front of his throat? it's just... a lot. that's all. this isn't an injury he can zip up or hide. he's running out of skin that isn't fucked up by something, at this point. and it can be worth the pain and hard on his confidence, simultaneously.
Steve's shoulders relent, in a clear telegraph of relief when Nancy assures him that he's okay. it isn't like he doesn't already know he can walk and talk and function, he's mostly aware he's fine. close enough to fine, considering the circumstances. it's still a relief to have Nancy confirm it, especially after getting stirred up about the endless itching. ) Okay, ( Steve agrees, a quietly relieved sigh more than anything. if only he could be so distracted by the affirmation of his health, he wouldn't notice Nancy's wandering hands.
instead, he definitely does notice. the hand behind his neck isn't that suspect, neither is sliding to his shoulder. not really. but, uh, her hands momentarily landing between his legs, well, uh ... maybe that one feels a bit strange, considering their history. why did he sit on this table instead of someplace more convenient, again? there's a chair right there. though, somehow the idea of looking up at Nancy as she's positioned between his legs isn't easier to imagine platonically than the position they're in now, so... what was that? covered up. focus up, Harrington. )
Right. ( that's what he's here for. so Nancy can patch him up, and rest assured she's put the jock back in relative working order, maybe get some sleep tonight. ) Yeah, of course. Chin up, huh? ( this is totally normal, and he's handling it. chin up, no untoward thoughts about his ex girlfriend and wandering hands between his legs. nope, not him. as if to prove how platonic his thoughts definitely are, Steve persists on changing the subject, as if just keeping a dialog going can keep his thoughts from wandering. ) Healing faster than they should be? That's... I mean, I'm not complaining. But that's weird. Right?
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[ what? it's true. and it would have been true even if she found out that everyone else's injuries are healing faster, and not just because it's steve. in case there was any doubt about that. it's not so specific. anyway, she's shifting things around in her first aid kit, occasionally glancing at him to take a look at the cuts along his neck, maybe a little too pleased she doesn't have to use the larger bandage pads to cover them properly now. but she still needs to be careful, obviously, because his neck might be further along in the healing process than expected, but she's sure it's just as sensitive as a fresh wound. so she'll just use the softer tape. good.
but first she's tearing open a couple alcohol swabs, unfolding each one in what's probably a pretty suspicious way. but it's only because she gets distracted by the bandage on his arm, which was covering a cut that was a lot more straight forward than what happened to his neck. she opens and closes her hand almost reflexively, suddenly reminded of the scar left behind from the clean cut across her palm. ]
Hey- You should check your arm, too. It wasn't as deep, right? You might not even need the gauze anymore. [ she turns to face him properly again, one of those little square swabs resting on the tips of her fingers, bringing the stingy smell of isopropyl alcohol with it. ] --Sorry. I need to wipe off the residue left behind by the tape. I don't see anything too close to the cuts, so it shouldn't sting, but I'll try to be quick. [ and she can actually see where exactly she's wiping this time, since his neck isn't uhh covered in blood, so she isn't running thee risk of nudging anywhere that'll sting like crazy. ..hopefully. ] I'll let you do the honors of peeling all that tape off your arm. Just- Try not to move around too much, okay?
tw: self harm stuff
Nancy fussing around in the supplies isn't as suspicious as she thinks, or maybe Steve is just distracted, too. what she says isn't at all what he's expecting, and the hand of the uninjured arm grips at his own leg, frown curling a little deeper. his gut instinct is to defer. oh, I'll check later. let you know. but that'd be stupid, wouldn't it?
the injury on his arm just... feels different, somehow. the gashes on his throat, those are parr for the course. he wasn't alert enough, he got hurt, at least it wasn't somebody else. getting help to look after them makes sense. the one on his arm, though, well... that wasn't something out of his control. it's something he did to himself, out of his mind on the weird food at the party, sure. but in the end, still self inflicted. it sets his stomach sour, reminds him of the copper on the back of his tongue as he made the cut worse in his desperation for more. Steve is a lot more uncomfortable about that injury than the objectively more gnarly one striped across his throat.
so he's silent, a long stretch, a hint of a wince more at the smell of the alcohol and the awareness it'll burn a little than the actual pain of Nancy trying to make sure the cuts are clean. he's sort of gotten used to the antiseptic burn of alcohol on wounds, which is sad. Steve keeps his chin high, in the interest of giving Nancy easy access (once again, phrasing!!!). it'd be easier access if she were still stationed between his legs, though he supposes it is likely for the best that she's not.
he has to reach past her to fuss with the bandages. the cut on his arm itched a little, too, it was just he didn't want to look at what he'd done to himself, so he had ignored it. it's a bit awkward, trying to stay still, open a bandage on his dominant hand. he still manages, though. and when he has it half off, he understands a lot more intimately Nancy's confusion from before. because he'd been a lot more familiar with the cut on his arm, being the one to put it there. ) What the hell, ( Steve murmurs, because it is unbelievably strange to see his skin half knitted together, just an angry looking scab, instead of an open clean cut. )
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she's also pretending she doesn't know perfectly well that this would be easier for both of them if she would just move to stand between his knees again. she's pretty damn determined to stick with the choice of standing off to the side. and her position does actually make it easier to reach certain patches of adhesive that stuck to his neck even after he took off the tape, but she's a little stumped once she realizes she can't actually.. see what's going on, on the other side. from here. hm. frick.
luckily, steve has the incredible timing of getting enough of the bandage off of his forearm to give her something else to focus on at the moment, and she genuinely never thought she'd have a reason to smile so openly at the appearance of a scab, but that's just her life now, apparently. ]
Right? [ she leans down to get a little bit of a closer look, but it really doesn't seem like there's anything sinister about it. it just looks like it's had a couple weeks worth of healing, instead of just days. ] It looks good, you might even- [ she stands up straight again, squeezing his shoulder as she directs her smile his way now. but steve still looks... not queasy, exactly. she doesn't think he's suddenly squeamish about seeing his own injuries. but he's obviously distracted by more than just the fact that he's managed to double-time it through the healing process, and jesus, what is it about the way he frowns that makes her heart ache? it's ridiculous. ] You okay? [ it probably shouldn't feel like a sensitive question that should probably go unspoken, but it kind of is, and yet she still asks him anyway. she doesn't know he got the cut on his arm, but she did witness the way some people seemed more than a little out of control of their own actions. she assumed someone attacked him. which is definitely enough to fuck someone up - being attacked by another person is different than being attacked by a monster - but she doesn't know for sure what happened. she bites her lip, and she's not as good at hiding her concern as she thinks she is, no ] You- don't have to take the bandage off yet, if you don't want to. It looks clean, I can just put a new piece of tape over it.
tw: more selfharm stuff
only, he's starting to learn that sooner or later, it catches up anyway. the ugly things he doesn't want to talk about. isn't sure how to talk about. things that feel better left unsaid. they go rotten and cruel and crooked, worse for being ignored. or they just hurt, holding on when it'd be easier to just say it. maybe it wouldn't change anything, to have them out of his system. but at least he wouldn't be on his own, trying to carry and contain something too heavy for anyone to handle alone.
Nancy's hand on his shoulder feels like an anchor, comfort that Steve isn't entirely sure he deserves. it makes him feel a little worse, in fact, for not saying anything — which is stupid. telling Nancy he cut a huge gash in his arm personally is not going to make her worry less. she's not going to pull away in disgust or anything, he knows that. in fact, it will definitely make her worry more. the idea of that is almost enough to keep from saying anything, because Steve doesn't want her to worry about him. or... he does, and he doesn't. she's got enough to worry about, here, she doesn't have to worry about him, too. but if it happened to him, then it's some wrinkle to this place they all should know about, right? so maybe they could stop it, next time around.
his shoulders sag, a little, dark eyes wandering a little from the gash. Nancy's comfortable shirt. absolutely giant, actually, where did she get a shirt this big??? and why??? it's a nice distraction. cute. grounding. compared to what has to come out of his mouth, ugly and unhappy. )
I don't like looking at it. It was the... the food, I think. One of the meats? I don't know. But it just made me so hungry, I wanted... ( Steve grimaces, because fuck. talking about shit! is harder! than he thought! especially confessing to Nancy goddamn Wheeler that he cannibalized his own arm, all right? it isn't fun. so the rest of it comes out in a rush. ) I did it to myself, Nance, all right? Something here, got in my head, and I couldn't stop. I wanted blood, like... like a goddamn vampire. What the fuck. So I did it, for more, that was all I could think about. ( his shoulders slump a little further, and Nancy will have to hold on or she'll slip right off, like his body is determined to reject undeserved comfort. Nancy should know it is a risk, another freaky fucked wrinkle to being here, but she shouldn't have to try and reassure him because he should have known better, or fought it, or something.
and he didn't. )
I just don't like looking at it. That's all. ( Steve repeats, tone a little dulled down and distant. so, yeah. even if it is scabbed over, keeping it covered. yup. they should do that. )
tw: more selfharm stuff
her hand doesn't exactly slide forward as he slouches even further, it ends up kind of staying where it was, except now that means it's the back of his shoulder under her palm. she's absently rubbing her thumb back and forth right there before she can think better of it, but even once she notices it, she doesn't actually have that gut impulse to take her hand back, or give him a little more space again. she just gives him one sweep of her full hand, down just past his shoulder blade, before moving it back where it was ]
Steve... [ packing a bunch of emotion into the way she says his name is apparently a hard habit to break. ] I'm sorry you had to go through something like that. Shit. I knew this place liked to mess with our heads, but I never thought it could do things that made that so.. literal. [ she shakes her head, watching him for just a moment longer before dropping her attention back to the half removed bandage, then her first aid kit. then the small roll of tape she already took out and put next to the box. smart move, past!nancy.
and in the interest of keeping things simple, she does loop around his knee to stand between his legs again, her eyes flicking up just once to make sure the rewind to her original spot doesn't make him wildly uncomfortable. from there she gently guides him to extend his arm, then takes to ripping a longerish strip of tape off the roll and carefully realigning it with the original piece of tape before smoothing it down with a light slide of two fingers.
there's a short pause after that, but she ends up siding her hand down his arm that last little bit from the edge of the bandage, and curl her fingers over the back of his hand to give him another squeeze. she watches her hand as she does it, instead of his face, but eventually she looks up again, attempting to catch his gaze. ]
So... I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last ..minute - [ not really. it's a thought she's entertained actually voicing for quite a few, um, years at this point. but the corner of her mouth quirks up to give him the world's tinies smile at her own joke ] And I've decided that you're not allowed to get hurt anymore. Not even a stubbed toe. Not even a paper cut. Got it? [ she tilts her head sideways a little bit more, still trying to convince him to look at her without actually telling or asking him to ] I'm very serious about this, so I'm going to need some verbal confirmation, Harrington.
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Steve hasn't moved, much. even with Nancy shifting between his legs, fingers curling around his hand. trying to avoid looking her in the eye was the idea, but sitting exactly at her eye level makes it hard. especially when she seems determined to put her sleep rumpled curls directly in front of him. he doesn't respond much, at first, to Nancy's not-at-all spur of the moment proclamation. it takes awhile. not even a stubbed toe. not even a papercut! got it? the corner of his mouth wearily quirks upward, his attention finally shifting from somewhere past her shoulder back to Nancy's serious-but-trying-to-cheer-him-up-anyway expression. )
What about brainfreeze, from the fancy ice cream they've got here. ( he's just testing his boundaries, okay? that's all. he's not ready to give up ice cream! honestly, he's not entirely sure he's willing to promise he won't get hurt again. because if there's a situation where he can get in front of something trying to hurt someone, he's gonna do it. sorry, Nancy, that's just how it is. it's gonna happen. it is who Steve Harrington is, as a person. you couldn't convince him to get out of dodge in junior year, he's a lost cause now. )
I'll be careful, Nance. ( that's a promise he can make, without being a complete liar. and he will, he will be careful. does that really translate in not getting hurt? no. but careful is about all he can promise, in a place determined to fuck them up every month. )