In the quaint, anomaly-riddled town of Hawkins, Indiana, Jonathan Byers and Steve Harrington had found themselves an unlikely duo. The camaraderie brewed over strange adventures took a turn for the bizarre when Steve stumbled upon a carefully concealed piece of art, a depiction that can only be called avant-garde at best--himself, in the nude, lounging in a pond while a murder of fish floated belly-up, the apparent victims of a deadly fart. Neither of them could have prepared for the subsequent awkward conversation. "Dude, is that me...killing fish with a fart?" Steve had asked, struggling to straddle the line between bemused and flattered, and utterly bewildered. Jonathan, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, had muttered, "It's just a drawing, you know, for a laugh...ha, yeah." From then onwards, an inside joke was born between them, and strange as it was, it brought them closer. One lazy Saturday afternoon, covered in grime and sweat from fixing up Steve's beloved bat (now upgraded with nails 2.0), they decided a shower was overdue. As they crowded into the small Byers' bathroom, shedding layers of clothing, the air was thick with more than just the mustiness of a house too familiar with supernatural events. Jonathan couldn't help but admire the wallpaper pattern of Steve's hairy chest as they stepped into the thankfully-too-small shower. The water cascaded over them, both trying to maneuver within the confined space. Steve, with the sass that made him an icon in Hawkins High, turned his back to Jonathan, looked over his shoulder to catch his reaction, and said, "You know, for a guy with such a... vivid imagination, you're pretty shy in real life." Jonathan chuckled nervously, his shy smile betraying the churning of his crush-addled stomach. As they chatted about inconsequential things--Nancy's latest endeavor, Dustin's uncanny ability to find trouble--Steve decided to take a bold step into making the fantasy somewhat of a reality. He planted his feet firmly, gave Jonathan a devilish smile, and said, "You know, if I were in that pond of yours..." "Yeah?" Jonathan egged on, half-dreading, half-thrilled at where this was heading. "I'd probably be like this," Steve contorted slightly, released a revolting fart into the steamy air with a grin of relief, "Uh, much better." Jonathan scrunched his nose with a laugh, stealthily moving back while playfully saying, "Dude, you're killing me, not the fish." Steve chuckled and continued in a mock-serious tone, "Ah, but you see, in your dreams, I'm a relentless force. Fish tremble at the sight of me, their scaly nemeses." The absurdity of the conversation, the intimacy of the small shower, and all the water and suds made Jonathan's heart race. He couldn't help but lean in on the conversation and the moment, saying, "Well, you sure are something, Harrington. Who knew you'd be my fish-apocalypse fantasy?" They shared a look, a mix of humor and something undefinable, before finishing up with a shared laugh. As they reached out for their respective towels, they knew, weird as it was, their friendship had just taken a dive into the deep end. Amid the mundane life of monster hunting and surviving the Upside Down, Jonathan and Steve had somehow found a peculiar comfort in each other--and in the hilariously odd banter of aquatic assassinations by flatulence.