Steve Harrington is a closet cuddler, and only one person will come to know of this secret…
Argyle.
It all began when they had first met.
Argyle just scooped Steve up in his arms, and hugged him for one second too long. That one second, had Steve hooked instantly.
And it kept happening whenever Argyle came around.
The hugs.
Each one would start to last longer, and longer, and longer.
Argyle could tell that Steve really needed these hugs, that they made him feel calm, if the rapid heartbeats becoming steady was any indicator.
He could also see Steve’s sad little face whenever the hug was broken.
So, Argyle decided to give him hugs, without a single thought of letting go.
That’s when the nuzzling of Steve’s face in Argyle’s chest started to occur.
And Argyle was more than okay with that.
Steve didn’t know if Argyle could sense something about what he truly wanted, and he is so happy for what he’s been given, but he really hopes that maybe it could turn into something more.
Cuddling.
Little does Steve know, tonight is the night when Argyle proposes the idea of a full night worth of cuddles… and maybe something more.
And little does Argyle know, tonight is the night when Steve will gladly accept… the cuddles and the more.
T | Steve/Argyle | 4.5k words | post-s4, pre-relationship, angst and fluff, happy ending | cws: ptsd, anxiety, recreational drug use (weed) | 48hr challenge exchange, no beta we died guys fhjksfakl | also on ao3
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gift for the lovely @salamandergoo (who also writes amazing Stargyle)!! line dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Hawkins looks both exactly and nothing like Argyle expected.
Like how Jonathan feels to him: grounded and calm, with a sweetness not everyone will see, but is definitely there if you know to look for it. Also the earth-tones. Lot’s of warm soft earth-tones and the occasional sky-blue. Ironically, the one color Jonny seemed to pick up because of Cali is the one color Hawkins notably lacks right now.
Hawkins now looks like Jonathan on his worst days. Looks like the Byers around November first, where every warm brown has taken on an undertone of grey. It’d probably look almost exactly like he expected if it weren't for the semi-apocalypse going on.
There's a long line of traffic filling one side of the highway headed out of town, but it's empty on the side going in. Like a natural disaster hit, but cops haven't come out to stop people from coming in yet. Argyle hopes they're just busy, or lazy, or think no one's stupid enough to drive towards the town with big gloomy clouds hanging over it—and it's not that they just don't care.
Argyle glances away from the road for just a second to get a read on Jonathan, who's just looking outside the window—weighed down by fatigue for sure, but probably moreso by whatever murky grey thoughts are clogging up his head.
Argyle looks back at the road and wishes he smoked before they got this far in. Wishes little Byers and his friends weren't so put off by it or the idea of him driving while high. He was a better driver when he was high, less murk in his own head distracting him from the road. But not much else seems to bother the Byers and Argyle's quickly running out of things he can do on this trip to help make things a little better, so semi-sobriety it is.
“Gonna go straight for the next few lights.” Jonathan says, and Argyle both nods and hums as he slows towards the empty red light. A couple cars roll up to the opposite side of the light, probably about to join the traffic leaving the town.
From the way Jonathan talked about Hawkins, Argyle didn’t think the town had this many people to lose, but then again, any town probably looks bigger when you have a good chunk of citizens all in one place.
The light turns green, and while a small line of cars head past and behind them away from Hawkins, Argyle and the Byers ride further in.
They pass a few more lights and many more cars—not all of them seeming to be heading out of town, and that soothes a little part of him, makes him feel better to know they’re not the only crazy ones choosing to stay. Eventually, Jonathan tells him to take a left, and that's when they see those dread-worthy red and blue flashing lights.
The road’s blocked off, half by a police car and half by sparse traffic barricades. A single cop stands leaning against his car, straightening and walking towards them as Argyle slows the van, but Argyle can barely notice him over the state of the road behind the barricade.
The ashfault's broke and crumbled like a normal earthquake leaves it. Not pretty by any means, but normal.
Beyond it, though, chunks of road seem entirely missing and then the whole ground is just… gone. And on the other side is something like a cliff’s edge, carved right into the middle of the street. Into the middle of the neighborhood and beyond, in a way that says this canyon definitely wasn’t there when any of this was built.
Argyle looks over to the houses lining the road, sees some shaken and worse for wear—bad, but normal—and then looks where the huge trench in the road passes through the grass. There’s an extra lone mailbox clinging barely onto one of the cliff’s edges, unmatched to any house within view.
Argyle thinks he’s going to be sick.
Jonathan leans over him to awkwardly roll down the driver’s side window, where the cop stands looking at them dubiously from the other side.
“You boys know it’s not safe to go sight-seeing here, right?” the cop says, already exasperated.
“Yeah, we’re just trying to get home.” Jonathan says for them, gesturing to the backseat. “Most of us are from here, our friend driving us is the only one that’s new.”
The cop hums, glancing at the freshman in the backseat. Argyle catches a wave from Little Byers in the rear-view mirror, and the cop seems to recognize him enough, nodding and sighing.
“What address?”
“2530 Maple Street.”
The cop looks up and around as he thinks.
“Go back about two or three lights and take a right. ‘Should get you around the closed roads.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan said.
“Curfew’s at 10pm. 10pm on the dot . And don’t go poking around these trenches, we have enough missing people to worry about.” The cop huffed as he wandered back.
“We won’t.” Jonathan said before leaning over again to close the window, falling out of Argyle’s space too soon.
“Thanks.” Argyle exhales, watching the cop wander back to his car like this is the most interesting thing he’ll do today. At least, he hopes it is.
“Yeah,” Jonathan says, because being nice is never a big deal for him, and refastens his seat belt, “We can turn around in one of these driveways. Long way around shouldn’t be too much farther."
Argyle pulls into the Wheeler's driveway, barely fitting with the several other cars scattered around. As soon as Argyle cuts the engine, Jonathan's out of the van, catching his curly-haired girlfriend is a big classic couples reunion hug. Will and Mike and Jane are out soon behind him, their presence causing another group of freshmen to run up to them as well that ends in only marginally less hugging.
Sensing that none of his companions will be looking away from their loved ones anytime soon, Argyle idly lets his keys slip out of the van and tucks them into his pocket. He climbs out of the van, barely closing his driver's door before seeing him .
Soft short brown hair—but still longer and wavier than Jonathan's or Will's—athletic and prep-like, but not with the attitude of either. The beautiful man walks in on the outskirts of the reuniting groups, not going to anyone in particular, like he's just hoping to catch someone's eye.
But his face, despite being sharp, objectively beautiful, is soft. Wearing so many emotions: timidness, hope, cynicism, unsteady confidence. The man smiles at someone—Argyle doesn't know who, would have to look away from him to find out—giving a small wave that lingers, face falling before his hand does.
Argyle's practically high again. High off the story he just witnessed in a matter of seconds, high off the beautiful softness glowing through this otherwise strong and sturdy beautiful man.
The tall girl next to his man lays a comforting hand on his upper back and his man turns slightly towards her, face warming into a tight sad smile before the pair turns and starts back towards the house.
Argyle's still basically high and before he knows it, he's said something and Beautiful Man and Tall Girl are both turning towards him with mildly confused or surprised expressions.
“Uh… Steve.” Beautiful Man says, which must be his name. Like Stevie Wonder, or Stevie Nicks.
“And Robin.” Tall Girl adds, hand still on Steve and standing like she wants to be in front of him and shield him, which is also beautiful.
Stevie and Robin both look at him with that slightly concerned, slightly put-off expression he's not unused to.
“...and who are you?” Robin says like she's parroting– and that must be what Argyle said earlier.
“Argyle.” He says. Steve smiles a little, politely, and Argyle smiles back brightly.
Steve's smile grows slowly. “So you're with uh–” Steve gestures over towards the groups reuniting behind him, and Argyle finishes the thought for him.
“Jonny and the Byers, yeah. From Lenora. Cali.”
“Yeah, we guessed.” Miss Robin smiles.
“You, uh, you have a place to stay? In Hawkins?” Steve asks him, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, and Argyle tracks the motion, watching the smooth brown waves move around Steve's hand. It's hypnotizing, and Argyle kind of wants to touch it, too, but he manages to hold back.
And come to think of it, the Byers probably don't have a house in Hawkins anymore, so he's not necessarily staying with Jonathan.
“I have my van…” he thinks aloud, and Robin fills in for his rational voice.
“That's maybe not the safest place right now,” she says, and she's probably right, with all the unsteady ground around. He sees it in Steve's expression, too, this kind of worry he's seen in Jonathan and Little Byers on occasion but only in the worst of times.
“You could stay at my place,” Steve says, still wearing that intense worry but hiding it pretty well under nonchalance and a little bit of cute embarrassment. “My parents are out of town and Robin and her parents are already staying over so one more person is no trouble–”
“Like a sleepover.” Argyle smiled, coming down from his high enough to sway a little awkwardly, “Hell yeah, man, ‘be greatly appreciated.”
Steve huffed a quick laugh before smiling again, glowing like a wavy haired ray on sunshine, and Argyle basked in it like a sunflower at dawn.
Unfortunately, no matter how wonderful it was to stare at or talk to Steve, exposure to nature's most beautiful creature still couldn't get him actually high, so by the time they left to drive back to Steve's house, Argyle was unfortunately stone-cold sober.
Fortunately, he did have Miss Robin to keep him company and give directions as Steve dropped off the freshman not staying with the Wheelers. And double-fortunately, she seemed to hate stressed sober silence about as much as Argyle did.
“So are people, like, more cool with stuff there? Like being different or y'know smoking weed and whatever?” Robin continued, seemingly very interested in California.
“Kind of? You see a lot more different people, I gue–”
“Oh, turn here, right!”
Argyle slammed the break and stopped them just soon enough to make the turn, if a bit ungracefully, but Robin took it in stride.
“Sorry–”
“No problemo, Bird Girl,” Argyle said. “But yeah, it's not exactly perfect in Cali, people still look at me and Jonny funny, but we passed worse places on the way here. It was just… better mixed, I guess. Still didn't make me have more friends outside my Surfer Boy's brothers but…”
“Didn't feel like you were as big of a blinking target.” Robin tentatively finished for him, and Argyle hummed.
Robin didn't say more and Argyle had already run out of words, so they let the van go quiet as neighborhoods and houses along the road turned to trees and the occasional backroad.
“This looking right to you, Miss Bird?”
“Yeah, this is right. Steve's parents are rich so they have a big fancy house in the woods.” Robin hummed, amused.
“Should I be worried about being murdered in this cabin in the woods?” Argyle teased, hoping that with how the Byers seemed to react to death, the rest of the Hawkins crew would be cool with dark jokes, too.
“Hmm, nah,” Robin hummed. “Even if I did, I don't think I'm strong enough to carry a body.”
“I don't know, I've learned to never underestimate a woman.”
Robin huffed a satisfied laugh, the sound trailing off with the feeling that she had something more to say soon.
“Take this right up here, Steve's house is 1221,” Robin said.
Argyle followed her directions, keeping his eyes on the road and lips sort-of sealed as he waited.
Eventually, Robin did ask, too casually.
“What all kinds of people did you see in Cali?”
“Any person you could think of, I guess.” Argyle slowed a little so he could still keep track of the occasional house number as they drove. “All different colors and lifestyles. You can't always tell everyone's story just by watching them, but you can tell there is a story, you know? Not many could call themselves weirder than me, though,” he joked, hoping to pull one last smile out before they reached Steve's house.
Robin hummed. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she said, with the feeling that it wasn't the answer she was hoping for. And before Argyle could say anything, she spoke up again. “It's this one right up here.”
Argyle slowed the van down better this time, and pulled into Steve's big driveway, once again feeling far too sober. Miss Robin didn’t seem to hold any of it against him, though, and as soon as the van stopped she came back to life.
Steve came home not much later than Robin and Argyle did, managing to arrive just after Robin introduced Argyle to Mr. and Mrs. Buckley. They mentioned turning in for the night not long after Steve came in and offered to finish up the dishes since they had apparently made dinner.
“Do you, uh… You have a place you don’t mind me smoking? Normally I’d do it in my van but the freshies don’t like it and I’m probably lucky nothing happened when we were pulled over–”
“Yeah, yeah, uh…” Steve said, seemingly needing to stop Argyle’s ramble even if he didn’t have his answer right away. “I think back by the pool is your best bet. It’s, uh… not the cigarette kind of smoking, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Argyle parroted, desperately hoping this wasn’t his beautiful boy’s one big dealbreaker.
“Yeah, back by the pool then. Here,” Steve flipped off the sink and set the last dish on the drying rack, wiping his hands on a towel as he dipped into the living room, coming back with a soft brown blanket. “In case it’s chilly. I’d let you do it in here but last time my mom smelled it even like a week afterwards and– they really don’t like any smoke in the house.”
Argyle was warmed without even touching the blanket, breathing a good sigh as Steve’s face creased with sincere worry over the cold.
“No worries, brochacho. I’ve partaken in way less fancy places than a backyard pool.” Argyle smiled, laughing and talking maybe a little awkwardly, but it was fine because it just made Steve smile a little bashfully as he held the blanket out more.
“I’ll be with you in a sec,” Steve said as Argyle took the blanket, “Gotta find my jacket.”
“Of course,” Argyle found himself saying, heart fluttering at the realization that Steve was coming with him– that apparently it was so natural that Steve would join him that he didn’t even need to announce it.
Steve watched him for a moment, a small smile of restrained amusement growing on his face before he looked away and huffed to himself again. Then Steve put a big beautiful hand on his shoulder, giving Argyle a few casual pats.
“Don’t overdo it.” Steve smiled before disappearing behind him. Argyle turned to watch him and Steve headed towards the front of the house, looking around as he disappeared behind a corner.
“Yes,” Argyle said reflexively to the empty room, managing to keep the other part, the ‘I’d probably do anything and everything you say’ thoughts to himself. And instead of loitering there starstruck like he wanted to do, Argyle started moving, preemptively wrapping the blanket around himself before heading to the back door and slipping outside.
Indiana was definitely too cold. It was supposed to be March for Christ's sake, but even with his blanket ready, the cold night air hit Argyle like a nasty wave.
He closed the big sliding door behind it and set out towards one of the pool loungers in Steve’s backyard, appreciating the quiet-not-quiet of the surrounding woods. He’d barely sat down properly and lit his joint before the glass back door was sliding open again and out wandered Steve in a half-zipped grey windbreaker.
Steve closed the door and seemed to survey the area around them, stalling by the door for some unknown reason.
“My dude,” Argyle called out to him, catching Steve’s attention again in a way that had his heart fluttering more. He lifted the freshly-lit joint into the air for Steve to see. “Would you like the honors of the first draw of the night?”
The invitation didn’t seem to relax Steve much, but he did smile.
“I’m alright, thanks though.”
Argyle nodded, mostly to himself, and chased the slight twinge of rejection with a nice big draw. He looked around the yard again, mostly at the beautiful blue glow from the pool, but none of it could stop the way his mind gravitated back towards Steve in every gap between thoughts.
After two years that were probably closer to maybe ten seconds in the real world, Argyle let his eyes get taken again by Steve’s pull.
Still hanging back by the door, Steve leaned casually against the side of the house, arms crossed and eyes passing over the area around them like he was keeping watch more than keeping someone company.
It stung a little again, the realization that Steve didn’t mean to hang out with him as much as he meant to keep him from dying, but with a big breath of cold air and a big drag of his joint, Argyle let those feelings fade away.
“Stevie!” Argyle called out before he could think better of it, and Steve snapped his head towards Argyle so fast, immediately filling the little hole of rejection with warmth.
The right words for what he wanted didn’t come to him easily—or, at least, the right words he could still let himself say—so Argyle simply reached forward, patting the nearest other pool lounger, and Steve seemingly got the message.
Although lacking the energy he had earlier, Steve still made his way over to Argyle presumably willingly, taking a seat on the lounger half facing Argyle, half facing the pool.
“It helping?” Steve asks, a single finger gesturing to the joint for clarification.
“Mhmm.” Argyle hums, taking a drag again.
He’s pretty sure Steve’s eyes follow the movement at first, want to follow the movement, and maybe even—hopefully—wants to sit and watch like Argyle likes to do. But Steve doesn’t stick with it, eyes darting away to the pool and the woods around them too soon.
“Offer stays open, by the way,” Argyle says, taken a little higher by the way Steve’s eyes dart back to him so fast. He holds the joint up again for emphasis, “Host gets as much weed as he wants.”
“I’m okay, really. Thank you, though,” Steve says, giving him a tight smile that doesn’t glow the way Steve usually does.
Argyle nods, trying to smile back, but he knows he’s not glowing either.
Steve can probably sense the lack of glows, too, because he shifts slightly in his seat before looking out at the woods again.
“I used to smoke too, here and there,” Steve says, easing that little nagging fear of judgment like he gets it, “Just haven’t enjoyed it as much lately.”
“You know why?” Argyle asks, accidentally forgetting the platitudes of ‘that sucks ’ or ‘oh, I'm sorry ’, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
Steve nods, scratching his jaw as he keeps his eyes away.
“Since all the…” Steve gestures around vaguely.
“Apocalypse-y stuff.”
Steve gets another little twinge of a smile, a little amused by him. “Yeah. And since everything started going to shit, really… I just don’t like being not-all-there.”
“ Really? ” Argyle blurts out, which he normally wouldn’t, probably shouldn’t, but Steve laughs a little again, looking back to him again, so Argyle couldn’t care less.
“Yeah, really.”
“Really…” Argyle parrots as he takes it in, thoughts coming out without having to worry about what they are, “A bunch of shitty things happen and you want to be more all-there than you did before.” Argyle shakes his head, a little amazed but loving how weird Steve is.
Steve shrugs and looks away again, and Argyle's starting to realize that means he’s going to be open again.
“Yeah, basically. It’s like… like I have more control of myself sober, y'know? If something happens, I’m here. It’s like… I lose a lot of myself while I’m high.”
“Really?” Argyle asks again.
Steve nods.
Argyle mirrors his nod, even if he doesn’t really understand. “I feel more myself when I’m high.”
“Really?” Steve says, taking his turn with the word. Argyle likes that they’ve started to share it.
“Yeah… I’m happier… I don’t stop myself all the time, I just do what I feel like. Like this–” Argyle reaches out and touches a few strands of Steve’s hair, and it’s just as soft as he thought it’d be.
Steve barks out a startled laugh, wiping at his face but notably not pulling away or making Argyle stop.
“Yeah, you’re definitely high.” Steve muses to himself.
“Yup, it’s great.”
“Yeah,” Steve hums, “Seems like it.”
Argyle hums in response, and Steve looks out at the woods once more, letting blue moving light from the pool decorate his face. It looks almost like moonlight, but more intense, more blue.
That color seems to describe this moment pretty well. The blue pool light is softer and fluid, casting everything in a more similar color, giving the space and the air this different tone that nothing can escape. Blue feels like Steve’s color, when he’s not trying to be a golden light, anyway. It feels like the realer Steve, the sober one they’re talking about, the one that's calm and cool and too-aware. And maybe a little vulnerable. A different kind of glow from Steve’s usual, but to Argyle, it’s a glow nonetheless.
“You’re beautiful.” Argyle exhales, hoping Steve will just know exactly how he means it.
Steve looks back to him, a little surprised, and rubs the back of his neck again.
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t think Steve fully gets what he means, but that’s okay. Argyle can always explain it later.
For now, he just appreciates Steve’s face right in front of him. Flushed a little from the compliment—no matter how shallow Steve thought it was meant—and smiling a little bashfully as he looked at Argyle.
“You’re pretty handsome yourself,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful– “Your hair’s really nice, well taken cafe of.”
“Thank you…” Argyle says, running a hand through his own hair again, and yeah, he forgot how soft his own hair is, too.
Argyle can feel Steve’s amusement and soft affection, and when he looks up again, he realizes just how close Steve already is. He could reach out and touch him—already did, actually. And he could reach out and kiss him, just as easy.
“Can I kiss you?”
Steve stills, but he doesn’t look mad.
“You’re high…”
“Just means I’m not scared anymore.” Argyle says, “I wanted to touch your hair all day, didn’t though. Didn’t want to be too weird right away. But I just did. And you're still here.”
Steve looks at him, thoughts going wild in his head.
“I want to.” Steve finally mutters. Argyle leans in, but Steve’s hand stops him. “But I can’t.”
Argyle leans back to look at Steve again.
“If you want to then you can.” Argyle said, but Steve’s expression didn’t soften, and Argyle’s mind immediately went to the first time he saw Steve. “Unless– you’re not over someone else–”
“No, no– or actually,” Steve stumbled over words and thoughts in front of him, murky feelings clouding his mind, “God, I’m probably not yet, too, but that’s not what…”
Argyle leaned in to hug him, and although Steve froze for a second, almost leaning away but not able to, the moment he realized it was a hug, Steve put his arms around Argyle too and held on.
Argyle shifted to make hugging more comfortable, placing the nearly-gone joint on the lounger beside them and scooting closer so they both had to lean over less. The longer they hugged, the tighter Steve held on.
Eventually, Steve spoke, though not daring to break the hug.
“I can’t… I can’t be distracted. Not unless I know everyone’s safe and nothing's going to happen. And we’re outside, you’re high– the upside down isn’t even over this time, Robin and her family’s upstairs, I can’t—”
Steve looses his breath for that sentence and doesn’t try to start another, even as he breathes deep right by Argyle’s neck.
Argyle gives him one last strong squeeze before drawing back, and Steve let’s go too easily. He still again, though, uncertainly frozen as Argyle half-stands to plant a kiss on the crown of his head.
Despite the high, Argyle’s a little nervous as he pulls back to find Steve’s reaction, but he’s quickly soothed by the flush and soft surprise painting Steve’s features, and he’s rewarded again when surprise melts into awe.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
“Thanks.” Steve says, “It’s not a no, just… later.”
Argyle hums, smiles, and nods all for him, and Steve takes it as he mellows out into his own kind of peace.
Steve picks up the joint Argyle set next to him and offers it back to him.
“I’m okay.” Argyle says.
Steve nods and snuffs out the joint on the stone ground before looking up again out at the woods surrounding them.
“Let’s go back inside.” Steve says, and Argyle hums an agreement, gathering his blanket and following Steve back into the house.
thank you for reading!!
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gift for the lovely @salamandergoo (who also writes awesome Stargyle!!)
Imagine the most interesting pair-ups of the ST gang for season 5. Imagine Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle are separated from the rest of the group and Steve starts freaking out (he's away from Robin and the kids) and Argyle is like "chill my handsome new friend. Take a puff!" Steve is like no, I don't smoke anymore, once you've been drugged against your will being high is less fun, plus I mostly gave it up to drive the brats around, blah blah blah....and Jonathan is like??? When were you drugged against your will again?? And Steve remembers they haven't really hung out or been on the same page since that night with the Demogorgon. Cue them all becoming friends as they try to find a way around the steaming hell-scape that was once downtown, sharing their life stories and trauma. By the time they reach the rest of the gang, Steve's braided Argyle's hair, Jonathan and Steve have made true peace...everyone is so confused.
Okay, wait, wait, wait. I was thinking all about the older teens ships in stranger things and suddenly my mind conjured up something. Hold on, hold on, I need to type it out right now. This is for the stonathan, jargyle, and...stargyle?? I guess?? Shippers, so here we go. I have no idea how long this is gonna be, so lets just dive into it and find out
××××××××××××××××××××
And suddenly, they need to figure out this thing between them. Jonathan didn't know two shits about being in a relationship. He'd never really gotten the chance to be in any others after Nancy and she had been his first relationship ever. Argyle had a little more experience than him in the love department, but not that much more. And Steve, he'd been in plenty of relationships over the years. You'd think he'd be the most prepared of any of them, but even Steve wasn't sure how to go about all this. It was a first for all three of them. And it didn't help that it had all happened so suddenly. I mean, some could say it'd been a long time coming, but for them? They'd had no idea. Which begs the question. How do you fall in love with not one, but two people, and not even realize?
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