#stonathan scrap

[xirayn]

May I interest you in a Scoops Ahoy Stonathan scrap?

---

Let it be known that Jonathan Byers completely believes that Starcourt Mall is a vapid monument to capitalism that is leading to the death of individuality. That having been said, it is nice to have a theater with more than one screen, access to a large selection of music at Sam Goody, more food options he can actually afford, and an opportunity to enjoy free ice cream while watching King Steve work customer service.

"Ahoy," Steve sighs as he slumps into the booth across from Jonathan. He throws his sailor hat on the table. "Enjoying your 'ocean of flavor'?"

Jonathan ignores the sarcasm in Steve's tone and drags his tongue over his two scoops of vanilla in a waffle cone. The parlor is empty as Hawkins has seemed to have collectively decide to enjoy the outdoors. It is also the time when people are in a movie or shopping elsewhere.

"Yeah," he answers with the slightest smirk, "I am."

"You seriously don't want to try one of our many, more interesting flavors?:

"I like vanilla."

"Alright," Steve rakes his fingers through his hair then looks over his shoulder at the flavors, "but you might also like, uh – vanilla with a raspberry swirl and chocolate chunks."

Jonathan licks his cone again. "I'm good."

"I could make you a sundae," Steve offers.

"I don't want a sundae."

"Milkshake?"

"Wouldn't that just be me drinking vanilla rather than eating it?"

Jonathan twists the cone while collecting drips with his tongue. Steve opens his mouth, then closes it into a tight line when he can't come up with a counter.

 "Alright, you've got me there." Steve sighs. "But don't you want to, I don't know, experience life?"

"Yes, and right now I'm experiencing it by enjoying my favorite flavor of ice cream. Why is vanilla considered boring, anyway? It's from the bean of a tropical orchid. That's pretty exotic for a nowhere place like Hawkins. I don't know why they even bothered to build a mall here."

Steve shrugs. "Hawkins is the biggest of the small towns?"

Hawkins is the biggest of the small towns between Fort Wayne and Indianapolis, so Steve's logic is sound. That might change now that the Hawkins National Laboratory has been shut down. It had employed a lot of people with the types of salaries that supposedly trickled down to the community. It had also experimented on children and released an interdimensional nightmare on the town, though, and no amount of economic prosperity was worth the resulting deaths and trauma.

"I'm sure we're the next New York City." Jonathan rolls his eyes.

Steve laughs lightly at the thought. "You'd be all for that. Are you still applying to NYU?"

That question catches Jonathan off guard. He doesn't remember ever mentioning that to Steve. In passing, possibly, and never in a way he would expect Steve to remember. He shrugs.

"Maybe." A drip of ice cream makes it over his thumb. He catches it with his mouth and misses the way Steve tracks how his lips and tongue move. "Definitely Emerson with Nancy, though."

Steve shakes his head. He picks his hat up and flips it onto his head with a flourish.

"Follow your dream, man" Steve says as he stands up, "not hers. I've got to get back to work. Let me know if you want to try anything a little more interesting."

Jonathan watches him go. Something in him feels carbonated, tiny little bubbles rising in his chest to tickle his heart as they pop.

He'll try getting a float next time.

[xirayn]

Have a s5 Stonathan scrap. Spoilers below the cut.

If you are new to Stonathan Tumblr, these are bits of stories that may or may not ever become fics. I went back and added #stonathan scrap to all past ones if you would like to root through the compost pile. Sometimes, with enough nurturing, they even grow into full fics.

Potential spoilers below the cut.

The Upside Down is quiet in a way that reminds Jonathan of the significant power of man to alter the nature of the world that Rachel Carson had written about in Silent Spring. The military has cleared most areas of whatever this hell dimension called life, unless Vecna subjugated it all, leaving it as dead as the dead trees and barren soil makes it look.

As they walk to Hawkins Lab, he still strains his ears to catch any rustling or chitters and scans his surroundings for any tracks just in case. He fails not to think about Lonnie as he does.

When Jonathan was young, his dad would take him out into the woods to find where the game would be that hunting season–back before Lonnie losing his job as lead mechanic at Harrington Motors strained their finances and his parent’s already frayed relationship. Back then, he had taken Jonathan fishing, and convinced him to join little league, and taught him how to work on cars, and only got drunk with his buddies or after Jonathan was in bed. It was far from anything that would earn Lonnie any father of the year awards and Jonathan refused to miss it.

“Hey, man.”

Steve’s voice pulls Jonathan from his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized he had slowed down and is surprised Steve adjusted his pace to make sure he wasn’t left behind. Nancy hasn’t seemed to have even noticed from where she is ahead of them with Dustin making sure they stay on course. He doesn’t blame her in the slightest. Holly is younger than Will was when he vanished, and Jonathan remembers that terror and grief and determination.

“Are we okay?” Steve asks with a soft, cautious tone that catches Jonathan off guard as much as the question itself. “I mean, I thought our whole rivalry thing was friendly, you know? Like Bugs and Daffy.”

“Bugs and Daffy?”

“Yeah. You know– Rabbit season, duck season. Carnival of the Animals.”

Jonathan blinks. The thoughts he chokes out with weed when he can continue to scratch and gnaw at him, but Steve has drawn his focus from them. He usually does. The competitions and arguments and banter keep Jonathan from being alone with himself, even if he is in a room full of people. No one pays attention to him until they need him, so he observes and thinks and finds all the dark, cobweb-infested corners of his mind. Steve’s strutting and chattering gave him the distraction needed to keep him from getting caught.

“They fight,” Steve explains when Jonathan doesn’t respond for a few paces, “but they still care about each other.”

“I’m not sure they do…” Jonathan is going to have to figure out how to rewatch Looney Tunes.

“They do. Or Legolas and Gimli.”

Jonathan laughs despite himself. “Did you just make a Lord of the Rings reference?"

Steve smiles back at him. “Do you know how many times Dustin put on that movie at Family Video? He said it was the closest he could get to culturing me or whatever. Anyway, the point is: I thought we were just friends having fun messing with each other. I wasn’t trying to make you look bad or impress Nancy; at least, not since we got The Squawk on air. Then you said those things in the van and… I don’t know. It hurts to think I might be wrong.”

This is why Will had thought Jonathan didn’t have any friends. He didn’t. Not really. There was always some hidden language he never learned where arguing and competing was ‘friends having fun messing with each other’ that caused him to push them away or retaliate and he wasn’t worth the trouble.

Argyle was the one exception, though that was probably because they hadn’t been friends long enough for Jonathan to drive him away. He would have driven Nancy away years ago if the end of the world didn’t keep forcing them back together. Their relationship was stagnanting and they were both miserable and it was his fault–

“Jonathan?”

Just like it was his fault that Will had been taken. Jonathan was told not to take shifts while his mom was working. That was why he had snuck into his room through the window when he got home and saw her car parked out front. He abandoned Will to earn some extra money in the hopes there would be something left over after the bills were paid for film or cassettes. That wasn’t any better than the cigarettes and beer his parents prioritized over providing anything extra for their children.

“Jonathan!”

Now he was getting high when he could, wasting time and money on a vice under the pathetic excuse that he needed to not think for a little while. The apple really didn’t fall far from the tree. He had even started fighting with Will.

And sometimes, when he strayed into those dark corners to get tangled in the cobwebs, he thought maybe it would have been better if it had been Will’s body in the coffin Jonathan picked out for him.

“Nancy! Nancy, we need music!”

Steve grabs his shoulders, his grip firm and desperate. Jonathan feels it distantly as he is back in the bunker beneath the radio station, unsure if he should stay or go when his mom asks if he can monitor the tracker’s signal. If he stays, Will might get the opportunity to prove himself he has so desperately wanted. If he goes, their mom gets the security of having the son she cares about at her side where she can protect him.

“It should have been you,” a voice grates through the openings torn by his thoughts. “It would have been better if it had been you. Would they have even noticed?”

Jonathan is suddenly in his old house after getting fired from The Hawkins Post and fighting with Nancy. It is empty with no family to offer him comfort or even a note to tell him where they are. He trudges down the hall to his room and the walls become covered in drawings pieced together into what appears to be a map. He hears his mom’s exasperated voice in the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you.” He opens the door to his room and is there, watching himself shrink back as she looks over her shoulder at him. She picks up the phone with disappointment in her eyes. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

“I don’t have any! Jonathan–” Nancy touches his cheek, tears in her eyes. She hasn’t touched him in weeks or months, content to accept his affection and support without making an effort to offer any in return. “Jonathan, please.”

“I have a walkman,” Dustin offers hurriedly, already fumbling it out of his trenchcoat. “The music isn’t going to be right, though.”

Steve starts to search Jonathan’s pockets. He doesn’t bother being gentle in his desperation as he stirs up memories of fingers grabbing fabric. Jonathan is slammed into a wall, the smell of the alcohol and cigarettes on Lonnie’s breath is overwhelming.

Lonnie’s eyes become milky white as fleshy vines crawl across his skin. The wall becomes a pillar of them, some of them wrapping around Jonathan to hold him against it. One slithers over his throat to constrict his airway.

“Your brother needs to learn there are consequences to defying me,” Vecna growls. “And you will make for the perfect example.”

A saxophone dances into the mindscape lit by the shimmer of cymbals. The steady steps of a piano accompany the smooth swing and tumble of notes. It exits, the piano giving a brief solo before it temporarily cedes the stage to the deep, resonant rhythm of an upright bass. The piano returns to usher the saxophone back in.

The music makes the vines release Jonathan. He falls from the pillar and scrambles toward the portal it created. Through it, he can see Steve holding him tight against his chest to prevent him from rising off the ground, his hand protectively over Jonathan’s head tucked securely into the crook of his neck. Nancy is behind Jonathan with her arms around his waist, crying into his shoulder and pleading with him to come back.

“What if I just don’t let you go?” a bittersweet memory of her murmurs to him. He stumbles on the knot of resentment he now sees in her eyes when he looks into them for too long. It might have always been there, the idea of their trauma and the threat of supernatural threats making it appear decorative.

Because Will came back, and Barb didn’t. No amount of love or support Jonathan gives her will ever change that.

Dustin frantically calls for El and Hopper over the walkie a few paces away.

A deep voice takes up the melody of the saxophone, intoning ‘a love supreme’ and Jonathan gets back on his feet. He concentrates on the memories of how Will’s face lit up when he really liked a song Jonathan introduced him to and filming their mom teaching him to dance before the Snowball. He sees Will’s relief and joy through his tears when Jonathan assures him that he loves him and absolutely nothing in the world would change that. He can almost feel how tightly Will had hugged him back afterwards.

“I’m here,” Jonathan gasps shakily against Steve’s collar. He lets his friend take his weight, trembling too much to hold it himself, and clutches his suede jacket. The melodious wail of John Coltrane’s saxophone continues to play through the headphones. It isn’t his favorite song, he doesn’t even listen to jazz, but it anchors him to reality as if it was.

Jonathan will have to consider the implications of that later.

[xirayn]

Another Stonathan scrap featuring Steve domming lightly bullying Jonathan into taking care of himself post season 2.

---

"Get in bed, Byers."

Jonathan throws a glare at Steve before going back to cooking. He feels warm despite the oncoming cold of winter seeping through the inadequate weatherization of the house. At the same time, chills shiver beneath his skin. There is no denying he is sick, but his mother is grieving Bob in addition to working and Will is recovering from being possessed so Jonathan doesn't have the luxury of rest.

Steve grabs his wrist.

"Get," he repeats slowly, "in bed."

He takes the wooden spoon, his grasp gentle yet unyielding. A step into Jonthan's space drives him away from the stove. He continues to glare at the intrusion, his upper lip nearly curling up into a snarl.

"Now," Steve orders without looking up from the mac and cheese he has taken over stirring.

"You can't-"

The protest is cut off by an inquiring look that doesn't dare Jonathan to protest as much as it asks what he could possibly have to say that is worth hearing. Jonathan barely has the energy to stand, much less argue. He still goes to the couch instead of his bed for the sake of his own rebellious spirit.

He wakes without knowing he fell asleep. An afghan has been draped over him and a squeeze bottle is set on the coffee table. He starts to sit up only to be hit with a wave of vertigo that convinces him to stay down. Voices drift in from the kitchen.

“They’re still calling me Zombie Boy.” Will keeps his voice down to let Jonathan sleep. “Jonathan says it’s cool to be a freak, but – “

“It’s not easy,” Steve interrupts. His tone is more genuine than Jonathan thought it was capable of being. “Especially because of people like me who feel like the only way to make ourselves feel bigger is by making others feel small.”

“You aren’t like that anymore, though. Right?”

“I’m trying not to be.”

[xirayn]

Stonathan Sunday on a Monday

For @stonathanweek and a part of the 'Jonathan and Steve fake a relationship for cheap rent on an apartment above a gay bar' story. Read the other parts here and here

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“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour tonight?"

Jonathan rolls his eyes. Being in a fake relationship with Steve has honestly been easy. Since Steve works nights and Jonathan's days are taken up mostly by classes and work, they rarely even see each other. The bar is the exception in order to maintain appearances. Usually, Jonathan just stops by to give Steve a quick kiss when he gets home or quickly talk about their day like a happy couple should, but missing his boyfriend's first time doing drag would probably be suspicious.

"What does that even mean?" Jonathan counters. He is supportive of Steve exploring his identity, though he claims it is purely for the tips since he is still just working the bar while the career queens are performaning. "Glaring at all the guys flirting with you until I'm asked to leave?"

"No. I want them to think you're supportive, not possessive. Rosanne is already trying to get me to break up with you," Steve says from the bathroom where he's getting ready. Rosanne Thorn had helped him do a test run, but since he was just behind the bar and lived a flight of stairs away, she decided he didn't need to take up space in the dressing room.

The idea of Steve breaking up with him makes Jonathan's chest unexpectedly tight.

"Just, I don't know, act like my boyfriend," Steve continues. "Pretend I'm Nancy."

"I don't want to be Nancy's boyfriend, I want-" Jonathan responds before catching himself. It turns out that the only hard part about being in a fake relationship with Steve is the part about it being fake.

Fortunately, Steve coming out of the bathroom covers for his abrupt stop. He's wearing a short blonde wig that just covers his strong jaw and narrows his face to make his features appear more feminine. His lips and eyes are lined to accentuate their natural curves. One of his moles has been marked so it stands out against the flawless complexion created by the makeup. The look is completed by a lilac shift dress trimmed with black piping to enhance the illusion of curves created by the padding underneath and the natural tuck of his waist. It is a very '60s mod look that leans into the clean lines of Steve's features.

Jonathan itches to get his camera.

"Wow." He swallows. That came out far too reverent. "I mean... Sorry, you just... Hm."

Steve laughs, his nerves only audible due to how familiar they have become with each other.

"That bad?" Steve has pitched his voice higher and a bit breathier to practice sounding more feminine.

"No," Jonathan quickly answers. It is far from bad, other than how it makes him want to be Steve's real, actual boyfriend that much more. "You look good. Really good."

The nerves shift into curiousity. After a moment of consideration, a smirk pulls at the corner of Steve's painted lips.

"Best behavior," he coyly reminds. "At least until the end of my shift."

Shamelessly inspired by this:

[xirayn]

Stonathan scraps! Get you're stonathan scraps!

Sometimes, Steve wonders how his summer of '83 self would react to what his life has become. Even without monsters and gates to an interdimensional hellscape, it is pretty unbelievable. Not being rejected by every college and university he applied to, that was fairly predictable in retrospect, but moving to New York City with Jonathan Byers and renting a one-bedroom apartment above a gay bar in Greenwich Village is definitely a curveball.

"Rent is due on the last of the month," their new landlord and owner of the bar, Mia Moore, said as she - possibly he, Steve can't tell and isn't going to ask - shows them into the small apartment. "I will give you a little grace given your-" her eyes size them up beneath thick lashes, "situation, but don't go taking advantage of my good nature, or you will see how quickly I can change these locks."

"Yes, ma'am," Jonathan replies quickly. Steve suppresses a laugh at how awkward he looks.

"Ma'am," Ms Moore chuckles with an approving smile. "You have a sweet one there, Country Club. Make sure you take care of him."

Steve slides an arm around Jonathan's waist and pulls him in. Jonathan tenses at the contact, but Ms Moore's eyes just soften in understanding.

"You're safe here, baby," she practically coos. "And if you two have any trouble, come see me or the girls downstairs. Now, Country Club, I expect to see you tomorrow night at five sharp. Guaynabo will get you set up."

She gives them the keys before leaving with a final, suggestive 'have fun, boys' that has Jonathan jumping across the room once the door closes.

"I can't believe I'm going along with this."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're overreacting," he claims. It is actually a pretty good situation, aside from the misunderstanding that he and Jonathan are a couple being an integral part of it.

[xirayn]

Jonathan and Steve running into each other years later somewhere (cafe, bookstore, music festival) and suppressed feelings begin to reemerge.

New York City has been good to Jonathan in a way that leaves Steve speechless. He let a shadow of stubble grow in and got his chestnut hair cut into a tousled fringe. The layers of clothing that he used to shrink into are more intentional, the thrifted quality worn like a choice rather than a necessity. He spots Steve, a smile brightening his eyes as he heads over to him. Any of the feelings Steve has tried to forget over the years rush to the surface accompanied by thoughts of a life he could have had.

He thinks back to when they were finally convinced it was safe to move on with their lives. They had gotten close during lockdown, left together in the shuffle of survival and resistance. Hours were spent talking or listening to music. Jonathan even played basketball with Steve. Then he asked Steve to move to New York City with him. It was the closest either of them got to giving words to what was developing between them and came with an unspoken offer to let it become more than it could in their small town. Steve said he couldn't for reasons that don’t mean anything in retrospect.

Jonathan takes the seat next to him at the bar and orders a vodka tonic.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he says as the bartender mixes his drink. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Steve -”

The way Jonathan says his name is all the answer needed. Steve rejected him. That didn’t change regardless of his reasons at the time or the regrets he has now.

“I’m sorry. I -” Steve stops himself. He has no right to take anything back. Not now. Jonathan has a life back in New York, probably with someone who puts him over the approval or expectation of others. Someone he deserves.

Someone who is not Steve.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Steve sighs. He takes a drink of his beer. “Tell me about New York.”

[xirayn]

When It's Cold

The scraps continue to form something thanks to all the encouragement I've gotten. Previous parts have also been rewritten, so keep an eye out for whenever this makes it to AO3.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Jonathan,” Steve groans, the hint of a plea in his voice, “don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not.” Jonathan makes a decision and leans in, fitting his lips against Steve’s in a kiss that lingers through the bridge between verse and chorus. He sits back and the double stroke of the drum matches the pounding of his heart.

What-ifs now dingy with regret fall over Jonathan’s trust issues with each its own unique form of rejection as he waits for Steve’s response. He stays still, once again a rabbit frozen at the threat of detection. His inner dialogue becomes loud enough to reprimand him for being so bold. Being attracted to men doesn’t mean Steve is attracted to Jonathan. Even if he is, he wants to get married and have kids and donate blood. Jonathan can’t expect him to give that up anymore than he could expect Nancy to give up her big plans.

Steve offers a wordless counter to Jonathan’s doubts by pulling him back in with a hand on the nape of his neck. He takes Jonathan’s upper lip, eagerly learning the contours of its shape with a press and part that melts away any remaining insecurity. Jonathan kisses back as the song changes to ‘The Promise’ by When in Rome. It is too basic for Jonathan’s tastes, the typical moody yet danceable attempt at making new wave more radio-friendly by stripping away its punk origins, but Steve likes it, so Jonathan put it on the mixtape anyway. He parts his lips at the gentle touch of Steve’s tongue and meets it with his own. 

The sound of a soft moan resonating from the back of Steve’s throat ignites the tinder of sensitive nerves. Jonathan presses closer, burrowing into the warmth radiating from Steve. His lips leave Steve’s to kiss along the constellation of moles he had mapped earlier.

A honk from outside causes Jonathan to launch himself into the passenger seat. He looks at Steve, seeing the same fight or flight staring back at him. His panic quickly shifts to relief when he realizes someone has found them. Soft laughter breaks the tension. Freezing to death might be better than being torn apart by monsters or shot up by the military, but Jonathan would appreciate the opportunity to see where things went with Steve before he died. He takes his camera off the dashboard and takes a picture. It earns him a good-natured eye roll before Steve starts to get out of the car to talk with the driver who found them.

“Hold on,” Jonathan calls. He opens the glove box where he knows Steve keeps his gloves among the napkins and a surprising amount of lighters for someone who no longer smokes. Steve accepts them with an achingly fond smile. Jonathan takes another picture.

With the extra help, they are able to push the car back onto the road. The Stone Roses play ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ on the mixtape as Jonathan waits for Steve to say something. He wonders if Steve is similarly waiting for him. Maybe nothing needs to be said and they are just together now. Or maybe Steve is rethinking everything now that death is less imminent. The possibility keeps Jonathan waiting as ‘The Killing Moon’ by Echo & the Bunnymoon is followed by ‘Rock the Casbah’ by The Clash. The tape ends.

[xirayn]

Is this anything?

A/B/O stonathan scrap under the cut.

One of the largest misconceptions about omegas is that they are docile or weak. The truth is that their aggression just isn't performative. While an alpha will try to prevent violence through displays of dominance, an omega is quiet one moment and lashing out the next. Steve got first hand experience with just how quickly an omega could go on the attack when he provoked Jonathan in the alley. Of course the most dangerous an omega gets is when they are protecting their pack, which Steve is currently getting first hand experience with, also courtesy of Jonathan. At least this time he isn't the target.

A snarl challenges the demodog as Jonathan picks up the nailbat Steve dropped when he was attacked. The monster turns from trying to break through the door Will ducked behind after hitting it with a few shots to draw it's attention. When it lunges at Jonathan, he thrusts his weapon down it's throat and uses it's momentum to smash it into the ground. He yanks the weapon free then brings it down again. Steve is just conscious enough to be impressed. Then, with the threat gone as much as it ever is in the Upside Down, his eyes start to close as the darkness creeps over him.

"Jonathan!" Dustin yells from where he is applying pressure to the claw marks gouged into Steve's side.

"Shit."

A bright, woody floral catches the alpha's nose. There is a richly sweet note to it that stirs his instincts enough to keep him awake. He raises his head from where it has fallen to his chest to sniff the air.

Jonathan strips his flannel off to pack Steve's wounds with, tying the sleeves to secure it in place. He pulls out his pocket knife and flips it open.

"What are you doing?" Dustin asks.

"He's going to die if we don't do something to keep his heart pumping," Jonathan explains as he presses the blade against a scent gland on his neck. He drops the knife beside him then reaches for Steve. "And unless you have an adrenaline shot, this is the only way I know how."

A hand on the back of Steve's head guides him closer to the cut. The alpha wets his lips and breaths in to taste the pheromones drawing him in. His tongue gathers the blood with a slow lick. The motion is repeated until instinct drives him to press his teeth against Jonathan's skin. When he pauses before piercing flesh, Jonathan trills an invitation.

Mating bonds can be broken, after all.

The initial pain of the bite is quickly drowned under a euphoric flood of bonding chemicals. They slot Steve into the pleasure center of Jonathan's brain right up against the spot Nancy still owns despite their breakup. The initial thrill of it settles into a warm glow that holds promises of love and partnership. Jonathan learned from his parents not to trust those promises. Maybe if they put in the work, but that is a dangerous thought. He pushes it away with the knowledge that whatever either of them are currently feeling is as temporary as any high.

A rumble resonates from the alpha's chest as he soothes the wound with his tongue. Arousal sparks between them, but their surroundings keeps it from catching. When Steve's higher functions return, he stills. Jonathan can feel the tension gathering in the set of his shoulders. Then an unexpected kiss is placed against the bite mark and Steve is pushing himself to his feet, the surge of adrenaline meant to help him defend his claim giving him the second wind needed to stay alive. Jonathan stands beside him. Their eyes meet. Steve's fingers flex with the desire to touch. He opens his mouth.

"Later," Jonathan murmurs to cut off anything Steve might say. Consequences can wait for the hospital.