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bigskyandthecoldgun · 6 months

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steve's pov | dragon's pov

Her Dad has always been very lonely.

Even from when he’d found her in that horrible, dirty bush back when she’d been but a kitten, the bright, comforting smile on his face had been tinged with a sort of sadness so deep it made her mewl with sympathy, digging her scraggly little paws into his shirt as he’d picked her up, using the last of her strength to nuzzle into his chest. Dad had stayed sad in the strange, clean room with the person in the white coat as they had explained something to him, casting glances down at her as she’d struggled to hold herself up on shaky legs on the metal surface they’d placed her on.

Her fur had been cleaned, she’d been poked at and prodded and felt a whole lot better, and when Dad had taken her into the big house and placed her gently on the bed, telling her tales about someone named Nancy and her wit and her pretty face, and someone named Jonathan and his ability to keep up with the Nancy and make her happy, and how Dad was glad to have someone to talk to about all of it, that smile was back. The sad one. She hadn’t been given a name yet, but her Dad had given her care she hadn’t ever known, food and medicine and affection, and she loved him for it.

The Nancy and the Jonathan, whoever they are, are determinedly not loved by her, she’d decided that night, curled up on her Dad's chest as sleep overtook her.

The day after, the small boy, who she affectionately calls Curly in the privacy of her own mind while Dad calls him the Dustin, comes over and gets far too close to her. She panics and swats at his nose—claws sheathed, because he is smaller than Dad, and he isn’t the Nancy or the Jonathan—and he shrieks, a delighted smile on his face that isn’t tinged with loneliness like her Dad's. She hisses at him from the comfort of Dad's shoulder, a little raspy, and Curly makes a face.

“Her breath should be considered a weapon,” he tells Dad, and then a look of even more delight crosses Curly’s face. “Oh! You should name her Dragon! Fierce little monster with a breath weapon, it makes so much sense, Steve!”

Curly goes on rambling until Dad finally cuts him off. “Okay! Fine, her name’s Dragon,” he relents. “Happy?”

Dragon is okay with that name, if only because Dad's smile is not as sad when he tries to hide it from Curly as the boy whoops.

She grows big and strong, broad and intimidating, and Dad tells her every day how soft and shiny her fur is, how she’s such a sweet girl, how he thinks it’s funny when she roars at trespassers in their home. And, of course, the trespassers are many in number and often come into their home with little protesting from Dad, much to Dragon’s dismay. She loves her Dad and only her Dad. She likes the rest well enough, sure, but Dad is special.

Dragon spends the majority of her time practically attached to Dad. He gives her many pets and lets her sit atop his shoulders or his chest or his lap, always ready to guard him from the hands of other people. Dad is her human, not theirs. Even as they try to win her favor with treats and pets, Dragon turns her nose up at them with a hiss, her hackles raised. She needs not the fleeting affections of the smaller humans, or even the Nancy or the Jonathan, who she meets for the first time when they show up on her Dad's doorstep, telling him how they’re here to take the smaller ones away.

“Hi, Steve,” the girl says, and Dragon clambers her way up to her Dad's shoulders, making herself as large and imposing as possible. “Jonathan and I are here to take the boys home.”

Her Dad radiates sadness. Loneliness. The girl must be the Nancy.

“Aw, who’s this?” the boy—he must be the Jonathan—asks, reaching up towards Dragon, which is a definite no-no. He needs to learn. Dragon hisses in warning before swatting his hand, claws out, because Dad smells so dreadfully of loneliness that it makes Dragon’s heart ache. The Jonathan draws his hand back with a wince. Dragon purrs. “Ow.”

“Shit, sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Dad says, and Dragon feels indignant at the fact the Nancy and the Jonathan have made him feel as though he needs to apologize. “Dragon’s not exactly friendly.”

Dragon begs to differ. She’s plenty cordial with the children. She doesn’t even take her claws out to swat their hands away when they try to pet her. Petting her is Dad's job, not theirs. “That’s okay,” the Nancy says. She looks at Dragon and smiles. Dragon’s ears flatten against her head as she hisses again, and the Nancy’s smile falters. “Uh, sorry, Dragon. Are they ready to go?”

She aims the question at Dad, who nods and steps aside to let the parade of small ones out of the house. “See you guys around,” Dad says as he shuts the door, and he scoops Dragon from his shoulders, holding her out and up at arms’ length as he clicks his tongue and shakes his head fondly. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Dragon mewls. You’re welcome, Dad.

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t like people, I get it,” Dad sighs, tucking her against his chest.

She nuzzles at his jaw and meows again. I like people well enough. I just don’t like the Nancy and the Jonathan. They make you smile bad.

“I’m really the only person you can handle, huh?” Dad muses, scratching behind Dragon’s ears in the best of ways. Dragon purrs, making biscuits against his shoulder. “Little beast. Tiny baby creature. You’re the best.”

Dragon is neither tiny nor a baby anymore, but Dad seems intent on calling her his baby, which she doesn’t mind. She gives him a quiet mrrp and nudges him again. Make friends that make you smile good.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to deal with people sooner or later, Draggy. I think I wanna start dating again,” her Dad says.

She comes to learn that ‘dating’ means bringing strangers into their house and closing the door to the den. Dragon makes her protests very known, yowling and scratching at the door when strange noises start up behind it, hissing and swatting and biting at the strangers when they get too close to her, and getting between Dad and the trespassers at every opportunity. None of the strangers make his smile any less lonely. If anything, they only serve to make it worse, and none of them seem to realize it.

The only person that Dragon comes to really like is the Robin, who she likes to call Dots, because of all the little dots on her face. Dots never tries to push her into letting her pet her, keeps her hands to herself with Dad, and makes Dad's smile a lot less lonely. “She’s so sweet,” Dots says one day as Dragon sprawls herself out on Dad's lap, belly exposed for him to rub at with his blunt nails, just the way she likes. “Do you think she’d let me pet her?”

“Dragon doesn’t really let people pet her,” Dad says, and Dragon lets out a little mew of agreement. For some reason, it makes Dots and Dad laugh. “I mean, you can try, but it’s kind of a miracle she tolerates you enough to let you sit next to me.”

“I don’t wanna bother her,” Dots says, and Dragon promptly decides that she’s her favorite of all the strange people her Dad brings to the house.

Human litters are strange, Dragon has discovered. She can only assume that the humans, too stupid to name themselves, have roles that correspond to the strange words they call themselves, the same across the board. Each litter must have the Steve—her Dad's title among the group—who clearly leads the rest of them, the Dustin, who is the Steve’s apprentice, the Erica, who is second in command, the Mike, who is in charge of scowling, the Lucas, who is the Max’s companion and the one in charge of games with orange balls, the Max, who is the Lucas’ companion and the one who makes funny comments, the Will, who is in charge of breaking up arguments, and the El, who is the superhero. The Robin, of course, is in charge of being the Steve’s best friend. The Jonathan and the Nancy are still of little concern to Dragon, but she has determined they are in charge of moving the children in and out of the house. Again, totally unimportant.

The El and the Will don’t come around much anymore, and Dad says that this is because they are in California. Dragon doesn’t know what California is, but it’s a long word, which she usually only hears in reference to sicknesses. Dragon hopes the El and the Will get better soon. The Jonathan has also stopped coming around, and it’s curious that this development seems to make the Nancy’s smile just a bit like Dad's now.

Dragon had been entirely unaware that a human litter needs an Eddie until one comes barreling in one afternoon in the cold months, throwing his things unceremoniously onto the couch in the TV room and shouting Dad's title into the house. Dad is not home yet. He is off with Dots at what he calls ‘work.’ Dragon postures herself as big and scary as possible, ears flat against her head as the tall man with dark hair and clothes and dangly metal walks down the hallway, towards the kitchen. And—the audacity astounds her—he starts poking around in the cabinets, making himself a meal! How rude!

Dragon yowls, low and throaty, posted up in the doorway to corner him. “Oh, shit, Steve has a cat?” the man asks, crouching down but making no move to coax her closer. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”

Dragon blinks at him and meows. You’re a stranger in my home. Why would I tell you?

“Ah. Mrawr. Lovely name,” the man says, nodding. He purses his lips and an airy noise comes from him, kind of like that metal thing Dad uses on the stove every now and then. “You are huge. Not that that’s a bad thing. You’re very pretty.”

Preening a little, Dragon lets out a little mrrp of gratitude. Yes, I’m very pretty. My Dad takes such good care of me. Now, go away.

The door opens again. Aha! Finally, Dad is home, and they will be rid of this intruder, the stranger who hadn’t been told about Dragon, so he must be lost, he must be looking for a different human litter’s Steve. He isn’t scowling, so he must not be a Mike or a Max. His hair is curly, so perhaps he’s a Dustin? He is looking for a Steve, after all. Or perhaps he is a Robin, by that logic.

“Eddie! Hey! What’s up, man?” Dad asks, and—

Oh, his smile is so bright and finally free of the loneliness that plagues it.

Dragon has only ever seen him smile like that once before, when Dots and Curly had been at the house, the three of them playing some kind of game with the Erica. She needs to keep that version of Dad's smile around. It’s the best one, and far too rare. The rest of Dad's litter smiles like that all the time, and it wouldn’t do if Dad continues to only show that wonderful smile on special occasions. She dutifully steps aside as Dad moves into the kitchen.

This Eddie is the key, Dragon realizes. The key to making her Dad not so lonely anymore.

Dad and the Eddie embrace. Dragon has never seen Dad as relaxed as he is in the Eddie’s hold, save for when he’s asleep and Dragon is guarding his slumbering form. “Good to see you, dude,” the Eddie says. “You got any coffee?”

“You and your coffee,” Dad says, shaking his head as he pulls back, going all around the kitchen in a routine Dragon’s only seen in the mornings.

As her Dad and the Eddie—Dragon decides to call him Ink after one of Dad's comments about the strange black shapes on the Eddie’s arms—talk idly and sip at their coffees, Dragon observes. Dad has never seemed so at ease, so happy. There isn’t a trace of the loneliness anymore, not a single sad crease in his forehead. Ink even makes him laugh. So much, too! And Dad looks at Ink like he’d looked at the Nancy that first time she’d showed up on their doorstep. Wanting. Wistful.

Dragon makes a decision.

She will make sure Ink and Dad are never separated. She will convince Ink to spend more time with her Dad. She will keep her Dad happy. Her Dad will never be lonely again, not if Dragon has anything to say about it.

After a while of talking, Ink nods down at her. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how cool your cat is,” he says. Dragon takes that as her cue to get up on her Dad's shoulders. She shudders at the prospect, but if she lets Ink pet her the next time he tries, surely Dad will realize that he must stay with them. She gives her Dad a reassuring purr and nudges his cheek with her face, and Ink smiles. “Dragon. A fitting name for a majestic beast.”

“I don’t know why she’s so unfriendly,” Dad sighs, reaching up to scratch behind Dragon’s fluffy ears. Dragon purrs even harder. When Ink makes a strange noise and reaches up to join her Dad in scritching behind Dragon’s ears, her Dad takes a step back. No! That’s not the plan! “Woah, careful, man, don’t want you to get clawed.”

The big smile on Ink’s face gets smaller, but somehow feels more private. “Cats don’t really like me, anyway, I don’t mind a little scratch or two,” he says, stepping closer to offer his hand up for Dragon to sniff.

Dragon doesn’t even need to sniff him, though he smells strongly of outdoors. He’ll smell enough like Dad sooner or later. She just pushes her face against his knuckles. Pet me, you imbecile. Show Dad how you will love us.

She even keeps purring to drive the point home. “Holy shit, she doesn’t do that with anybody,” Dad says. Yes! He’s getting it!

They continue their conversation, and Dragon feels herself getting shifted into her Dad's arms, so she nuzzles against him. Dad is talking about things that don’t interest her, strangers and the like, so she meows pointedly and licks his face. Tell the Eddie he needs to stay. We don’t have one yet.

Finally, the conversation points to her in a favorable way. “Well, maybe you just have to find somebody she likes,” Ink says, scratching under her chin. She meows again and squints, tilting her chin up. She’s really going all out here. Dad better get her point. Ink makes a strange sort of sound. “Aw, see? She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll have a soft spot for someone other than yourself soon enough.”

“Draggy,” Dad coos in his play-voice, “will you please let Daddy get laid? Be all sweet and good instead of biting people’s ankles?”

Dragon doesn’t know what any of that means, but it clearly makes Ink horrified enough to drag the conversation elsewhere, which, again—annoying. Neither of them are getting her point, not even when Dad shifts her so that her tummy’s facing up and she lets Ink give her belly rubs. Belly rubs! Those are not given lightly, and Dad must realize it, because Ink comes over a lot more often after that.

She always makes sure Ink and Dad are sitting together, lets Ink pet her—and, admittedly, he’s pretty good at it—and watches to make sure Dad's smile never turns lonely. And it doesn’t, not with Ink around. Dragon changes nothing about how she interacts with other people, but she gets clingy to the Eddie, trying to show her Dad that he should be, too. Dad even lets the Eddie into the den, lets him lay on the pillows beside him as they talk and talk about things that Dragon doesn’t understand and doesn’t particularly care to.

But Ink is not close enough. On one memorable occasion, Dragon even paws at his arm until he gets the hint to scoot closer, and she thinks that if her Dad could purr, he would. Dad doesn’t get the hint, though, even still, because even though Dragon is pretty sure the Eddie of the human litter is supposed to provide love to the Steve, Dad doesn’t seem to realize he can. Dragon even lets Dots get in a scratch to her chin, just to show Dad that if even she can let other people in, so can he.

“You are killing me, you little menace,” Dad tells her one night when Ink isn’t in the room, but he’s still in the house. “Why do you like Eddie so much, huh? I mean, sure, he’s funny and he’s nice, but it’s not like you can understand what he says, you don’t speak English.”

Dragon meows indignantly at him from where she sits on his lap. I understand enough to know that this Eddie is the Eddie you should keep.

“Yeah, yeah, I see your point. Eddie is pretty great,” her Dad mutters.

Dragon yawns, because the little song and dance her Dad is doing about his silly feelings is exhausting, and starts making biscuits on his thighs, then purrs. He is. And you deserve that. You should not be lonely, and he makes you un-lonely.

“Okay, so he’s handsome, too, but I don’t see how that’s appealing for you, you’re a cat,” Dad huffs. Dragon watches him pause, then his face goes all pink, and he looks funny. “Well, that’s—it doesn’t appeal to me, either, I guess.”

Dragon gives him an inquisitive little mrrowp? in response. What does handsome mean? You should let him give you whatever pets for humans are.

Her Dad makes air push out of his mouth for a while. “Look, Draggy, you gotta find someone else you like. Eddie can’t be the only other person you can tolerate, it’s just not realistic,” he tells her. Rude. She tolerates everybody.

Dragon roars. The Eddie loves you, so I love him. What’s so hard to understand about this? You love him, too, if you would stop being obtuse about it.

Dad has the audacity to shush her, even if he does give her some pets. “Yeah, I know, and I like having him around, too—”

“Talking to your cat about me, Stevie?” Ink asks.

Dragon makes a whole big show of letting Ink give her tummy rubs, keeping her eyes on Dad the whole time. See? You could have this, too. Just be brave. But, unfortunately, Dad doesn’t get the hint, because while he puts Ink in clothes scented by him, Ink sleeps in one of the dens for guests rather than in Dad's den. Fine. If Dad won’t get the message, maybe his Eddie will.

She sits outside of the door to the guest den Ink sleeps in and yowls and cries until he comes out to pick her up and put her on Dad's bed. “Please tell your daughter to stop screaming at me,” he says, and Dragon gets dragged into her Dad's lap. The Eddie turns to leave, which is outrageous! All of that work, for what? Dragon lets out an indignant cry, and Ink turns back around. “Oh my God, what?!”

Dragon gives him a little chirp and trots to the edge of the bed, nosing at his hand. Sleep in here, Dad is so lonely when he sleeps.

“Draggy, let Eddie go to bed,” Dad protests. Dragon resists the temptation to tell him to stay out of it, because he is still her Dad and must be respected.

“Yes, Dragon, I need my beauty sleep,” Ink tells her, which is further infuriating, because Dad already thinks he’s pretty! He stares at Ink all the time! When the Eddie turns to leave again, Dragon yowls again and takes his hand into her mouth to try and drag him towards Dad. Ink looks to Dad, probably for guidance. The Steve is the leader, after all. “Does she want me to stay here?”

They exchange more words, which is a terrible bore, but Ink clambers into the bed, so Dragon is triumphant. They’re not close enough, though, not as close as the humans on the TV that make Dad sigh wistfully, so Dragon pushes against Ink’s back and doesn’t stop pushing until he scoots a little closer. Still, it’s not enough.

“She keeps pushing at my back,” the Eddie says. “Why is your cat so strong, dude?”

Dragon is so busy being pleased at the comment that she nearly misses what her Dad says in response. “I can take her out of the—”

She lets out a panicked screech, as loud as she can. No! You’ll never do this on your own! I have to help, so I have to be here until you figure it out!

Neither of them make any further threats to remove her, so she just keeps idly nudging at Ink’s back. After so much chatter, really, humans have got to be more direct with each other, the Eddie takes initiative, leaning close to her Dad's face. Finally, finally, they look the way the humans on TV do, and Dragon quietly makes her way off of the bed as the strange noises that usually mean she gets locked out of the room begin, meowing when there’s a pause.

I will stay out of your way, Ink. Please make him happy.

Dragon heads down the hall and curls up on the bed of the guest den, too tired from her matchmaking efforts to be kept up by the increase of noises from the room next door.

To be given her proper credit the next morning, she politely snatches up one of the shirts on the floor—the one that smells like Dad but the one Ink had been wearing—and waits for her Dad to see her up on the bed before swishing her tail smugly. When Ink sees, he cackles. Dragon can tell that he will live up to his title. The Eddie will make the Steve happy, just as he’s meant to.

Honestly, Dad should listen to her more often. Dragon has very good ideas.

#dragon's pov as promised #she thinks they're too dumb to come up with names so she names the ones she likes best!!!#thinking of doing a sequel where nancy is enlisted for catsitting and it goes. Very Interestingly #we will see #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #robin buckley #there is nothing more important than platonic stobin

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