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.*･｡. A DEAL WITH GOD! .*･｡.
————WILL THE WISE
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014.
THE ART OF
IMPROV.
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   Somehow Ashley and Steve had made it to his car and out the parking lot without being spotted.

   Not bad going, she thought.

   To Steve, sneaking around was probably mundane. He was the sort of guy to skip his classes and climb through bedroom windows to see girls after lights out. Ashley, on the other hand, attended all her classes and implemented her own curfew, one her father begged her to break more often than she did. Until recently, she had no need to sneak around. She figured she was lucky, like that.

   But that was only because she was a good kid.

   And being a good kid meant that, while she had been a big brat recently, and while her father was driving her insane, she still felt guilty when she saw his squad car pull into the lot just as Steve's car pulled out of it.

    "You good?"

   Ashley shrank down in her seat, eyes lingering on the wing mirror. Her father's car was out of sight now, but her gut still churned. "Yeah. I guess."

   Steve nodded quietly, lips pursed.

She didn't sound convincing, and Steve wondered how no one had picked up on Ashley's lies before. He could see it all, now. The pain behind her eyes.

It wasn't his fault, but Steve still felt bad.

    "Should I, like, bring you to a hospital first?" He asked.

   His words made her frown, "Why?"

    "Because it looked like you died?" The boy justified. Had it been in a sharper tone of voice, Ashley would've thought that he sounded like Cindy. "There was an ambulance back there. Just how bad are these things?"

   The girl grimaced. She wasn't sure what she had expected to happen following her episode, but someone calling for an ambulance definitely wasn't it. She'd never had one in public, only at the party, and that wasn't in front of dozens of people — her peers, her teachers, the people she saw every day. Her temples ached when she thought about going back, how they would look at her, what they would think. Ashley was no King Harrington, but she cared what people thought of her. There were very few teenage girls who didn't — especially ones who had sold their soul and were finally facing the consequences. That was why Ashley left.

   She couldn't face them. Her friends, her father. How would they react? What would she tell them?

   Ashley suddenly felt sick.

    "Miller?" Steve noticed her pale face, wondering whether he should pull over.

    "It's fine," Ashley told him.

    "Fine?" He echoed.

   She nodded, "It— it looks worse than it is?"

She didn't sound so sure.

   In some ways that was true, in others it was a lie. While the episodes were horrifying and looked like she was dying, Ashley wasn't. Dying, at least. Actually, when she came out of one of her episodes, she was perfectly fine. Asides from the crippling anxiety and overwhelming dread, the nosebleed and the ache at the back of her head, Ashley really was fine; fit and healthy, young and fighting.

   Mentally, however, they took a toll.

   Jumping into Will Byers' mind was taxing, draining. Ashley was tired, Steve could tell by the bags under her eyes, but she seemed reluctant to admit it.

    "Alrighty," his thumbs drummed against the wheel. "Where are we headed, Miller?"

Ashley thought about it.

   She knew that Joyce Byers had already left, no doubt with Will. They had already driven past the middle school and as far as Ashley could tell, there was no sign of her car; no sign of Mike, Dustin, Max and Lucas either. Ashley decided that Hawkins Middle was pretty much barren.

Chances were, Joyce had taken Will back home, and while Ashley knew where the Byers lived and knew she had a duty to tell Joyce what was going on, the mere thought of it made Ashley's skin crawl.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so sure.

Her silence must have been extended because Steve sent a glance her way, but Ashley still said nothing. He watched her bite the inside of her cheek.

"We can wait it out, you know?" He suggested.

Ashley's face twisted.

She knew they couldn't, even if she wanted to. The longer she waited, the worse things would get. It wasn't fair on Will. Ashley needed to tell the truth, she knew he deserved that, but she wasn't sure she could stomach it. Not now. Not yet. That was selfish of her. She knew it was. But unfortunately, Ashley had made a habit of that lately.

    "No," her voice was soft, "We can't."

    "Why not?"

    "You don't get it, Steve..."

No, he supposed he didn't get it. Not really.

Steve had no idea what Ashley was going through. Sure, he had been through some crazy stuff himself, and his heart was still smashed into pieces in his chest, but that was nothing close to Ashley's problems right now.

She wasn't fighting monsters, and she wasn't going through a hideous breakup — instead, Ashley was running away from her own mind. And while Steve'd never had that problem, at least not in the literal sense, he knew running away was tiring, and if you kept going without a break, then you were bound to run out of air.

    "I'm just saying, I think we should have a plan first." Steve shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. He knew that she was stuck in two minds and while Ashley needed to give this kid's mother an honest rundown of events, she also needed to find her footing first. She was anxious and exhausted, and if there was any chance of somebody else believing her story, she was going to have to be on her A-game. After all, what sane parent was going to believe her story? He believed it, sure, but Steve wasn't exactly sane, was he?

"A plan?" She asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, watching her think.

"Have you ever planned anything?" Ashley narrowed her eyes at him, unsure. She'd fixed his college application, after all. He definitely hadn't planned that.

"Ouch," Steve muttered. "But you have a point."

    "A plan," she repeated, sighing. "I guess... I hadn't really thought about that."

It wasn't like her. Ashley was usually good at planning. She excelled at it, actually, alongside detailed organisation and very thorough pieces of research. But when was the last time she'd planned something? With all the insane stuff going on inside her head recently, she couldn't really recall. For the last week, telling someone what was going on hadn't even felt like a real option. It was no surprise she hadn't planned what she would say when she found the courage.

"I was sorta hoping it'd just..." her cheeks flushed pink, a flush of embarrassment kissing her cheeks, "...come to me."

Steve blinked, "You wanna wing it?"

"Not wing it," her nose wrinkled, "Just... improvise."

"That's winging it," Steve chimed, which made her roll her bloodshot eyes. His lips curled up at the corners, fighting off the teasing grin threatening to burst through. "Ashley Miller winging it. Never thought I'd see the day,"

"Steve," she sighed.

"No, seriously. I'm impressed," he said. "So tell me, back there... did that just kinda come to you?"

She turned more red, if that was possible.

"You made it easy," Ashley said.

Easy. His eyes flitted over to her, then back to the road. He wasn't sure he'd ever been told that before. Usually everyone was telling him he made things difficult.

"Okay. We'll improvise," he decided there and then. His mind went to all the papers and tests he'd not prepared for, and all the presentations and projects he'd made up on the spot. "It's nothing I haven't done before."

Ashley liked that he said we. It made her feel less alone.

"But maybe you shouldn't show up at their house in bloody gym clothes," he suggested.

Ashley looked down at her sweater. She sighed.

   She forgot about that.

    "I don't have anything else," she whined. "I left my bag in the locker room."

   Steve nodded. He left his stuff there, too.

   Ashley's eyes widened as he turned the wheel, taking a left before the stop sign. While she hadn't told him where to take her, she still felt her heart drop when they completely missed the Byers residence. "Steve—"

"Relax," he reassured her. When he noticed her deer-like expression, Steve sighed. "Miller, let's be real here. You look like shit. I'm not gonna let you tell some kid's mom you jump into his head when you look like roadkill, 'kay?"

Her nose wrinkled.

    "Harsh..." she muttered, pouting.

   Steve fought back a smile.

    "The woman's gonna think you're insane," he said, which made Ashley's lips purse. Joyce Byers wasn't a judgy lady, she knew Ashley well enough to know she wasn't a liar, but Steve had a fair point. Ashley would look insane. And after the kind of day she knew Joyce'd had, she'd probably be too stressed to deal with Ashley's stories. Especially when she looked such a state. She'd just call her dad.

    "Maybe I am insane," Ashley murmured.

    "Nah," Steve denied without thought. "I've seen insane. I know you're not it."

   Her lips twitched upward. Weirdly, that meant a lot.

After a moment, she sighed. "Can we just— can you bring me home? You're right. I mean, I need clean clothes, and it's getting pretty cold out, and—"

"Miller," Steve chuckled.

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I'll take you home," he reassured. She felt her shoulders relax, and she nodded sheepishly. Steve smiled, his eyes fond as he took a right turn.

————

"Did we have to take the window?"

"My dad put cameras up before Christmas," Ashley said as she hoisted herself between the wood frame and the low glass pane, not noting Steve's eyes dart to her as her feet landed on the plush carpet. "Never said why, but they have a view of the whole yard. It's a little weird."

"Yeah..." Steve cleared his throat. He definitely knew why, but shrugged. "Well, he's a cop— right?"

    "I guess," Ashley nodded, "I think he'd freak if he saw me bringing you home," her cheeks flushed at the mere thought.

For a second, Steve was offended.

Then it passed because, with his reputation, Steve couldn't have blamed him. Any father would be wise to have kept his daughter away from Steve Harrington — especially a cop. It wasn't like Steve was in tons of trouble but he wasn't really a star pupil either. And with all the stuff that happened before Christmas, he was sure Stanley Miller would want him as far away from Ashley as possible.

So, in hindsight, that was a warranted opinion.

    "Copy that," Steve muttered, hands rested on his hips. "I don't see why you can't just tell your dad about everything. I mean, wouldn't he help?"

    "He'll think I'm crazy," Ashley called out as she tidied up quickly, throwing clothes aside. She wasn't very messy, but it had been a hard week, she wasn't feeling organised. "I think he already does."

   If only she knew what her father had seen already. Stanley wouldn't think she was crazy. Steve wanted to tell her that, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't. Somebody was bound to kill him — whether it was Captain Stanley Miller or the government. Whoever got to him first.

   Unable to say much, he sighed.

"C'mon. You know that's not true."

Ashley rolled her eyes stubbornly, "Yeah? Well, you don't know my dad. He's crazy."

Steve fought the urge to tell her she was wrong. Steve knew her dad. Not super well, but he knew a good guy when he saw one. Stanley Miller meant business but he had a big heart, an underrated sense of humour — criminally, in Steve's eyes —, and an unwavering devotion to his daughter. It was the main reason Ashley hadn't found herself wrapped up in the events of last year. Stanley kept her segregated from it. Steve figured he had done a pretty good job.

"He's not," Steve shrugged, "He's just a dad."

Ashley knew that. Deep down. She was just feeling far too sorry for herself to admit it.

Telling her dad about Will Byers would mean telling him everything. The deal she made, why she'd made it — and she wasn't sure she could handle that, right now. After all, there was no easy way of telling your father that you used to swap places with him when he was just a drunken shell of a man. She had a feeling that would kill her inside.

And it might just kill him, too.

   She took a breath.

"Okay."

Interrupting Steve's thoughts, Ashley poked her head through the window, hair fanning over her shoulders. She sent him a slight smile, rested against the frame.

"You can come in," she said before vanishing again, back into the room behind her.

Steve blinked, but nodded to himself, and lifted himself in through the window like she had. It was quite easy, since she was first-storey, and nothing he hadn't done before. How often had Steve scaled the wall up to Nancy's room? He'd lost count. Ten? Twenty times, maybe? Too many, definitely, considering what he had gotten out of it.

Steve shook his head, he wasn't bullshit.

It didn't take long for him to climb inside. When he landed on the floor, he glanced around.

The walls were a faint lilac, textbooks scattered around in a messy yet organised fashion, and a Hawkins cheerleading skirt hung on a closet door. His lips parted when he realised he was in Ashley Miller's bedroom.

It felt weird.

He wasn't sure why, but it did. Like he was invading all her privacy by being there, observing all of her things. Maybe he felt that way because she was vulnerable. Maybe because this was his first time in a girl's room without intending to kiss her or flirt just a little bit.

Ashley didn't notice that Steve didn't know what to do with himself as he stood there, hands in his pockets. She looked as awkward. Ashley had never thought Steve Harrington would be standing in her bedroom, either.

She grabbed some clothes, "I'm just gonna..."

Steve nodded.

Ashley quickly turned and left her room, hoping that there was nothing particularly embarrassing laying around for him to look at while she changed.

She didn't take long and, by the time she returned, Steve's feet had only carried him as far as her desk. He was peering nosily into Yurtle's glass bowl, but he quickly looked away as she walked in.

"That's Yurtle," she said.

Steve raised a brow.

"You named that thing Yurtle?"

"No," her cheeks warmed, "He belongs to my neighbour. And he's not a thing, he's a tortoise."

    "Yurtle," Steve muttered, pulling a face and lightly tapping the glass dish. He nodded and stood straighter, "I mean, I'm no tortoise expert, but don't they usually have, like, a big tank?"

    "Usually," Ashley agreed, "I'm babysitting."

   Brow raised, Steve cracked a grin.

    "Yurtle-sitting?"

    "Yurtle-sitting," she smiled.

   They stared at each other like that, briefly, and Ashley had an odd feeling that everything would be okay. Despite all the mess she had made, despite everything.

After a short moment passed, Steve pointed to the door. "Can I use your bathroom?"

    "Sure," Ashley said.

   He gave her a thumbs up, which was so uncool it killed his soul a tad, and headed for the hallway. He didn't get very far.

   Ashley stopped him, "Hey, Steve?"

    "Yeah?" He turned to her.

"Thanks," the girl said, somewhat bashfully. Her lips were thin, but smiling nonetheless. "For all of this."

For a moment, Steve didn't know what to say. Steve seldom had that problem before Ashely Miller. She seemed to render him speechless.

Eventually, he smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"Worrying's kinda my thing," she admitted, sounding quite sheepish, but his amused expression calmed her slightly. "But you probably already guessed that."

"Nah," Steve chuckled, "Never noticed."

For the first time in hours, Ashley's eyes twinkled.

He made his way to the bathroom, thinking about how his day had ended up like this and how he didn't regret a second of it, and finished up as quickly as possible. On his way back, he observed the picture frames on the walls, appreciating her grin that matched her father's.

"So, this kid—" a soft snore cut him off.

Steve stopped when he spotted Ashley sprawled out on her bed, like she had been sitting there nicely before knocking out like a light. He pressed his lips to hide a smile.

   After glancing at the watch on his wrist, Steve decided that finding this kid and his mom could hold on for another night.  Just one more. Steve knew Ashley wanted to help, and he knew it was the right thing to do, but she was clearly exhausted and he couldn't find it in himself to wake her. He figured that this meant the kid was in a similar state — a middle schooler with thoughts so terrible it had traumatised the high school's head cheerleader? Yeah — Steve didn't doubt the kid had knocked out as soon as Ashley had, so was disturbing them the best of moves? Was disturbing Ashley?

   Steve didn't think so.

   He crept over to the bed and covered her with a blanket, so she had something to hold if she got cold or needed comfort.

   Steve then wondered if that thought was a little weird, and shook his head before leaving.

   But as he closed the door, Steve didn't notice the way that Ashley's eyes darted around beneath her eyelids, as though a small part of her was still alert. Because maybe if he had, he might've questioned it, because if Ashley Miller wasn't awake then something else deep inside of her was.

   And that meant it was awake in Will Byers, too.
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