𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - elves, dwarves and cake

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 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 never been one of those teenagers to love fantasy stories. It might have been down to the fact that his father had scorned them, that his mother would tut as toss away comic books all the while telling him to go and play outside even amidst winter afternoons.

 Either way, Steve hadn't been somebody to read about proud knights wielding weapons of old, or wizards with staffs shooting fireballs. Thing is... Steve had then made himself believe he didn't want to know about those things, rather than being forced out of them.

 So as the California sun was setting behind the windows of the new Byers and Hopper abode, Steve had found himself trying his utmost to scour the words written on the pages that had been before him. They were tea-stained, and almost every page was torn at the edges. The Fellowship of the Ring had clearly been very well-loved.

 The only problem was that even with Steve's squeaky clean glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose, he still couldn't quite digest the words. This Tolkien guy had a knack for long-winded descriptions of beautiful landscapes. He liked to use a lot of detail... and a lot of very big words.

 Steve had gotten through four pages in twenty minutes and had been growing incredibly frustrated. With every word, Steve had only grown ever more confused... what in the world was a Harfoot? Were they the same as a Brandybuck? Or were those names? It was hard to keep track when he had to pick up another book by his side just to decipher the meaning of the descriptions laid before him.

 Steve was determined to finish it. Not for himself, but for Will. For Dustin and Lucas. The kids were relentless with quoting the damned things, they sprouted about elves and dwarves and Steve just wanted to understand them; having Lucas to gush about basketball with had filled him with a happiness unlike any other... he wanted something else to share with them. Especially Will, who was still struggling to make friends at his new school.

 It had been strange to start living with the Byers, vising every weekend and whenever their classes were cancelled or cut short. Jonathan had... changed. Steve made an effort and received effort in return, but even still, the two of them had yet to become friends.

 Will, however, had welcomed him graciously; not that Steve had expected anything different.

 So it was quite strange for Steve to peek over the page he'd been stuck on for well over ten minutes as Will strolled in. The boy paused for a step, and then, pretending as though he hadn't seen a thing, Will carried on.

 He grew closer and closer until he did something that was very much not in his nature. He plucked the book from Steve's hands, ignoring as the older teenager narrowed his eyes and followed his movements.

 Will Byers was never rude. So to take the book Steve was right in the middle of reading without so much as a please or thank you, was actually stranger than watching monsters come to life.

 But then Will did something, so very in his nature.

 He started to read right where Steve had left off, his pointer finger trialling over the words — an old habit that had never left him from the time Jonathan had taught him to read. Will, however, began to read these words aloud.

 Nothing had been said about the way Steve saw words and letters smeared over pages like smudges of ink; only Scarlet and Robin knew to this day but Will was nothing if not a silent observer. He caught on far more, and far quicker than anybody ever gave him credit for.

 The words flowed from his lips as though he were one of the elves Tolkien had described. Grace and ease... Steve was almost jealous until Will paused to make sure Steve was paying attention.

 They both settled against the couch, and The Fellowship of the Ring was read aloud for all to hear.

 'In dealing with Hobbits it is important to remember who is related to whom, and in what degree...'

 Scarlet had gotten caught up. She'd promised Steve to be home by the time the sun started to set. They'd planned to cook dinner together — rather, Steve would cook and Scarlet would sit her pretty little self on the counter and cheer him on — whilst Joyce was busy, and while Jonathan was God knows where smoking God knows what...

 That hadn't happened. Time and time again she was late home, time and time again her fingers could barely shed the flares weaving around them... There wasn't an excuse she'd conjure, she'd merely brush a hand through the air, breathe out a sign, and simply saunter onwards.

 This time, when she pried the front door open, only to be greeted by a living room draped in darkness, Scarlet was confused. She'd usually get ambushed by Will, Joyce or even Steve... as for El.. distance had seemed to blossom between them nowadays. No matter how hard scarlet tried to close that ever-growing divide.

 Nobody was there to spill the usual 'and where have you been?'.

 But Scarlet could spy three heads over the top of the oak-coloured couch. She tiptoed closer and closer, and then she felt her shoulders droop.

 Steve was right in the middle, his eyes wide open as he stared at her...but his arms were trapped. Will sat to his right, and Eleven to his left; both had clearly dozed off without a care in the world, heads toppling to the oldest teen's shoulders.

 There was a book struggling to stay within Will's grasp.

 "He started reading it to me." Steve whispered, somewhat sheepish, "I think he knows that I can't —"

 He shrugged, never finishing his sentence. Scarlet wasn't at all surprised, for it seemed that Will Byers knew everybody's secrets even when they didn't want him to.

 "Help me." Steve whispered again, wiggling his fingers from beside the children's heads, "They're asleep. I can't wake them up. I'm stuck."

 "That really doesn't sound like a me problem."

 Steve gaped, "So... you'll leave me here and what, you'll cook dinner? We'll all die, Scar."

 He wasn't wrong. Scarlet had tried again and again to make something even slightly edible, but if it was more than toast and eggs... it suddenly became poison — or char. The strangest thing was that Scarlet had never struggled to bake. Cooking anything with enough sugar to rot somebodies teeth in a single bite was nothing but effortless for her... but God forbid she tried to cook rice or even spaghetti.

 Scarlet shrugged, already padding towards the kitchen. There was a cupboard specifically for her own ingredients; chocolate chips, white and brown sugar, syrups and flavoured essences... "I guess we'll have to have cake for dinner, then."

 "You can't give the kids cake for dinner, Scar."

 "This is why I'm the cool parent, you know."

 The was a silent beat in which Steve parted his lips to respond. He was hurt, truly, truly hurt. He watched her move through the kitchen, grabbing flour and eggs, sugar and spices... all while standing on the very tips of her toes. That's where he'd win. There was no way she was capable of reaching for the baking powder... Steve had very specifically put it on the highest shelf.

 "I can feel you grinning." Scarlet mused, she knew his tricks by now. From hiding the eggs on the highest shelf in the refrigerator. Putting the sugar on top of the cupboards... She curled her fingers around a chair, dragging it to the kitchen, "You lose, Stevie. No cake for you."

 "You're really gonna leave me here?"

 "Will I get a reward for saving you?"

 Steve pretended to think for a moment, his head lolling from side to side... any reward that came to mind sounded far more rewarding for him. Evidently, Scarlet could tell exactly where his mind had gone, thanks to the little blossoming burst of pink beginning to gloss over his high-risen cheeks.

 "Steve Harrington." She chided, yet her words lacked any real scolding. She turned away, hands reaching for her pink measuring cups. A scoop of flour was added to a purple bowl, along with some sugar, "You naughty boy."

 "Please don't call me that."

 "Oh, right," Scarlet hummed, eyes narrowed upon the small set of measuring spoons. Vanilla extract was poured... and then a droplet or two extra. Scarlet liked things sweet, "I remember what happened the last time I called you that."

 Steve flushed, "You win."

 "I always do."

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DATE: 25/12/2022

:·ﾟ★ oop that bit at the end? hehehe. Anyway, Will Byers is absolutely the cutest boy in the world. he's my boy, my son. All my homies love Will.

the final oneshot (and part of this act) will be posted later. happy holidays, and to those who either don't celebrate (or hate the holidays like me) have a lovely day, i hope this makes it a little bit brighter <3

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