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queenie-ofthe-void · 8 months ago

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The Babysitter Chronicles - Wheeler

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 3.6k || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

Karen Wheeler stands in the open door of her own house, shock etched into her gaping mouth and wide eyes. She reaches out towards what Steve assumes is the wound across his forehead and into his hairline, an angry red from getting the stitches removed earlier that morning. He sees the moment she decides against it, dropping her hand back to clutch the door handle. "I'm sorry, Steve, but Nancy isn't home right now."

He accepts the change in direction with a sharp pang of disappointment, forgetting amidst all of the bullshit his life has been lately that Karen Wheeler loves her children and the people close to them. And that's not Steve, not anymore.

She’s wearing the red and green sweater she bought on sale last winter. Karen had thrown her handful of oversized shopping bags into the middle of the living room floor while Nancy and Steve were cuddled up watching reruns on the couch. Nancy tried making up an excuse for them to skip the fashion show, but Karen looked so disappointed– plus Steve really does love shopping. So they’d spent the next twenty minutes pouring over each piece she found. The sweater was one of his favorites, and she’s now paired with simple light-wash jeans and a casual pony-tail.

She looks good, but Karen Wheeler always knows how to put herself together enough to fool anyone, even her own family– like mother, like daughter.

"It's ok," he replies, tone bursting with false cheer. "I was hoping to talk to you, actually. About Mike."

Although Steve practically lived with the Wheeler's for the past year– much to Ted's chagrin– Steve and Mike tended to avoid interactions at all costs. Their arranged seats for dinner were at opposite sides of the table. While Steve and Nancy watched a movie in the living room, Mike would hide upstairs. And whenever Mike beat them to the remote, he would steal Nancy into the basement. Steve was always cordial when he could be, but Mike would only reply with dirty looks or a roll of his eyes.

So when Karen sighs and waves him to follow her into the kitchen, he's surprised that she seems like she’s been expecting him. He takes his normal seat at the table and she hands him a glass of iced tea with lemon on the side. The familiarity clogs his throat, and he thinks the slight twist of her mouth means she's stuck in the same moment, a nostalgia for affection neither of them had a choice in ending, but with an ending all the same.

"Mike told me you got into a fight with a boy from school, but I never imagined–" Karen gestures at his face, mottled brown and yellow like bruised fruit. One scrutinous glance from Karen Wheeler has him mentally cataloging the numerous injuries decorating his face, and he can feel them all at once.

The swelling in his eye has gone back to normal. His lip's scabbed over for the third time and he can feel the edges peel away where he absently pokes at it with his tongue. Steve wishes he could hide the evidence of his failure in the same way he can with the headaches, fuzziness, and the night terrors. The stiffness in his hands and neck, and the high-pitched static in his ears.

"Yeah, looks like I'm not the best fighter in town." His laugh is hollow. She knows it in the tilt of his lips. He knows she’s figured him out by the tap, tap, tap of her foot.

"Mike said you were protecting them," she says, lilting up at the end in question. "He said something about the new girl, Max, and how her brother didn't care much for Lucas."

When he nods, she pulls out the chair next to him. Her normal spot at the table, Steve on one side and Holly on the other. He never really understood why Nancy and Mike always seemed annoyed by the way she was always around, or how they felt genuinely misunderstood when Karen would ask about their days. Maybe they saw Ms. Byers carve her way into another dimension to save her son, setting a bar so high it forced them to wonder if their mom would do the same. Not realizing some parents wouldn't notice their child missing in the first place.

It's not a competition, Steve repeats to himself whenever he feels that familiar thick bitterness climb up his throat. The Wheeler’s lives aren’t better or worse from one his, just different.

Karen pats his fisted hands, pulling him from his reverie. He unclenches his teeth to take a sip of his favorite drink, and she smiles at him. "Is that what you came to talk about, Steve? About the fight?"

"Kind of," he answers. "I'm worried that Max's brother won't– that maybe it'll happen again. And I want the kids to feel safe, so I was hoping you'd let me watch out for Mike when he's not home. I've already talked with Mrs. Henderson and the Sinclair's, and they're ok with me driving the kids to and from school, hanging out at my house until they're done with work. Stuff like that. Max's mom's alright with it too, not that you know her, I guess."

He takes another large drink to stop his rambling. Talking with the other kids' parents wasn't easy for him– well, except for Claudia, who welcomed him with open arms and a slightly painful kiss on his forehead. But now all he can think of is the fact that he can't remember the last time Karen Wheeler hugged him and that she probably never will again.

"Do you think Mike would feel safe with you?" The question cuts through him. He looks up to see genuine softness in her eyes, and Steve’s forced to realize he's not actually sure what Mike would think. He'd only thought of the kids being together, all in one spot where he can see them and know for certain they’re alright without having to drive all over town in his pajamas in the dead of night just so he can be absolutely certain. "I know Nancy forgave you pretty quickly for what happened last year. And since I've gotten to know you, I've seen you grow and change for the better. But Mike," she trails off.

"I know." He’s not sure of what else to say. How did he get this far without even considering what Mike would want? He spent weeks planning what he'd say to everyone's parents, assuming the kids would be ok with it. How could he be stupid enough to remember that, no matter how hard he fights, Mike’s never quit hating him. "I'm not sure what to do to get him to forgive me."

"My boy might be stubborn," she says, "but he knows right from wrong, and he knows a good person when he sees one." Karen stands from the table, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she bends down to look him in the eye. "If you talk with Mike and he's ok with it, then I'm ok with it." She pats him on the shoulder and he moves to follow her where she’s headed to the side door leading out to the garage.

They find Mike kneeling on the floor, bike flipped upside down and fingers covered in grease as he holds the chain in front of him. Without looking up at them, he huffs, annoyed and frustrated. "Mom, I told you I'd be done before dinner, okay? Jesus–"

"Hey, language," Steve chides in time with Karen. They share a smile until the moment's severed by Mike's shrill screech.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Instead of scolding him once more, Karen gives Steve's arm a last reassuring squeeze before he hears the door close behind him. Mike stares at him, confused and impatient. Steve supposes he can't blame the kid, but it doesn't change the fact he doesn't know what to say.

Steve takes a cautious step down off the entry mat, the hard concrete floor shooting spikes of cold through his socked feet. Mike stands and takes a step back, wiping his greasy fingers on his pants, and he finds himself feeling a little bad for Karen when she inevitably finds them in the laundry pile.

Might as well rip the band-aid off.

"I want to be your babysitter."

"Fuck no!"

"Hey, I said language, Wheeler! How many damn times–" he trails off, the automatic response dying out as Mike's answer settles into his brain. "Why?" It comes out sounding small, more desperate than he likes.

"Why would I want you as my babysitter?” He throws his head back, barking a laugh so full of hate it reminds Steve of himself, of his father. “You think you can get whatever you want just because you've got money and hair and a fancy car. You've convinced everyone to forgive you, and that you're a 'good guy', but you're still just King Steve.”

Mike throws the chain down on the ground between them, and Steve flinches on reflex. The tantrum unfolding in front of him is red and swollen and hurts more than the cuts on his face.

It leaves Steve momentarily frozen, long enough for Mike to dash towards the side door and out into the yard. He follows Mike around front to the driveway, socks damp and cold with melted snow. Steve wraps his arms around himself, jacket on the hook inside the front door with only a maroon Henley to fight away the chill of a dark, winter evening. Mike isn’t faring any better in jeans and an oversized zip-up sweatshirt, but Steve breathes a small sigh of relief to see the kid’s at least got shoes on.

"Mike, look, I'm sorry–"

"You're sorry?" Mike yells, turning to get in Steve's face. "Do you even know what you're sorry for?"

Headlights blind them as Nancy pulls into the driveway, hurrying out of the driver's side door. Steve takes a step towards her when he hears another car door close. Jonathan rounds the front of the car from the passenger’s side, taking his place shoulder-to-shoulder with Nancy as they stare at him in confusion.

"What's going on?" Nancy asks, gesturing to the both of them.

Mike scoffs. "King Steve here thinks he's going to be my babysitter just because he's charmed everyone else’s parents into thinking he’s a good person now." He's looking at her like she's in on the joke, but she's looking at Steve with surprised awe in her eyes. Brief butterflies fill Steve's chest, quickly dying out when Jonathan takes Nancy's hand. He sees her squeeze his grip, yet she doesn't look away.

"Steve?" Her eyebrow's arched in question, and even Jonathan tilts his head as they wait for an explanation.

He somehow can't find the words. They're trapped in the fog behind his eyes, and each time he thinks he's grasped it, all he finds are nightmares.

You weren't there, you left me! You left me and I was scared and alone and I almost died because you weren’t there and youleftmeyouleftmeyouleftme–

“Nance.” A small whisper, a plea. Jonathan squeezes her hand but Steve couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing now that matters. “I just want them to be safe, please.” She frowns, pulling Jonathan in her wake as she stands in front of Steve. Nancy’s gaze pierces through him, and he watches as she catalogs each and every one of his injuries.

Steve closes his eyes as she gently runs her hand over the cut on his forehead and into his hair. They never talked after they made it back to the house. He doesn’t blame her for it, at least he tries not to. She’d been concerned with Mike, flying to his side as soon as her and Jon had stepped through the door. Mike poured himself over Will’s limp body draped in Jonathan’s arms, and Nancy had wrapped herself around him from behind. It was beautiful and painful and it was in that moment he knew Jonathan Byers was the perfect man for a girl like Nancy Wheeler.

Steve hears her sigh, and as he holds back tears when her touch leaves him unmoored, Steve looks up to see Nancy and Jonathan share a look of understanding he’s never experienced from her. The way she looks at Jonathan isn’t with what he now understands as motherly exasperation. When Nancy gazes at Jonathan, she sees a partner. Someone who will stand next to her in a fight and support her the way she supports him.

Jonathan needs her just as much as Nancy needs him back. But she’s never needed Steve, not really. He’s only ever needed her, and that only ever weighed her down.

He knows she sees the desperation for purpose in his eyes. The drive to be useful if not wanted in full. As Steve holds back tears when she removes her hand from his hair, he’s momentarily bolstered by Jonathan patting his shoulder. A gesture in solidarity that leaves Steve stunned enough to miss Nancy turning to Mike.

"Mike," she says, firm and unyielding in a way only Nancy Wheeler can sound. "You know Steve’s changed. None of us would be standing here if he was still just King Steve. He kept you safe from the demodogs and from Billy. You know he deserves a second chance so why won’t you give it to him?"

Mike sneers at her. "Just because you were stupid enough to give him a second chance doesn't mean I will. He's an asshole, Nancy! He was an asshole to you and you act like it never happened. You just took him back and he got to have Christmas with us like we all loved him. How did you expect us to like him when you couldn't even pretend to?”

Her eyes are wide, mouth hanging open, and she steps back to gain some space. Steve's never seen this kind of anger in a kid before– deep seeded and heavy– and it seems Nancy's just as surprised.

He turns to face Steve now, screaming at him for all of Hawkin’s to hear. Light from the kitchen window flashes across the snow covered front lawn, and Steve absently wonders if Karen predicted how this would all go and wants to see for herself.

“You're an idiot if you think you’re the one who kept us safe. You got your face beat in while Max did all the work. Why would you think you're good enough to be my babysitter when all you are is a punching bag?" Steve watches Mike's face bloom red across his cheeks and ears, flamed with rage built up over a year of sharing a dining room table with a guy he hates.

When Mike’s first punch hits one of Steve’s bruised ribs, he tries his best not to wheeze and fall back. The second hit sends sparks of lightning through his chest. Even through the searing pain and the high-pitched ringing in his ears, he finally understands that Mike’s right. Steve really is stupid, in a way.

Because when Mike looks at Steve, he sees every bully who’s ever pushed him down or called his friends names. Every popular asshole who looks at him in the halls and only sees the weird kid who plays DnD and joins AV club.

Mike looks at Steve and refuses to see the difference between him and bullies like Billy Hargrove. People who find outlets for their anger through violence and scathing slurs instead of brains and compassion.

Steve’s always been angry. An angry child raised in an angry home by an angry father. All out in the open and easy to see by anyone who looked their way, not that anyone did. Best to avoid Richard and Elizabeth Harrington if they could, but obvious all the same. So Steve tries not to be too hard on himself that he failed to recognize the same undirected anger in Mike’s eyes. It’s not so obvious with the Wheelers.

Maybe monsters and bullies and missing friends drove an angry and confused Mike to his father, unbothered and aloof, leaving Mike with only the same bullies and monsters to model his anger.

Maybe Nancy looked to her own mother to find a polite, mild-mannered woman who kept her feelings close to her chest. Steve only ever saw Nancy as passionate with a fierce sense of justice, when she’s just a girl angry that her best friend is dead and there was nothing she could do about it. How their relationship fell apart because Steve’s never seen a girl filled with rage, so he couldn’t recognize the fire in her eyes for what it was, and how Jonathan’s eyes burn the same.

Maybe, Steve thinks, the four people standing in this driveway are all searching for outlets for the same, too-big emotions bubbling inside of them, and Mike’s picked Steve.

Good. Because now Steve finally has a purpose for Mike Wheeler.

He’s not sure when his arms wrapped so tight around the boy screaming into his chest that he couldn’t move, but he feels Mike shaking against him as his small, grease-covered fists continue to hit him in the back, each strike slower and softer than the last. Steve’s surprised to see Nancy silently crying in Jonathan’s arms, her hands clenched in the front of Byers’ jacket and knuckles as white as the snow around them.

Steve’s whispered apologies morph into just a string of slurred, repetitive noises. He knows the anger never really goes away, but there’s only so much energy to burn before it flares out and dies.

Steve’s socks are soaked through, his toes are filled with painful pinpricks, and there’s a wet spot on the front of his jacket where Mike’s head rests against his chest. Whether it’s just a towel and a punching bag or a babysitter and protector, Steve will be whatever Mike Wheeler needs him to be.

Drained, Mike finally slumps against him. Steve holds him up.

“Mike,” Steve says softly, moving the boy back far enough to look him in the eye, “it’s ok if you don’t want me around, or if you don’t want me to be your babysitter. I want you to feel safe, and if that’s not with me– then it’s not me.”

The kid’s face is a wreck of red splotches, puffy eyes, and a leaky nose. Steve smiles, as soft and gentle as he can manage as he tries to pry Mike’s dirty fingers from his sweater. The small hands hold firm, and he watches as Mike does his best to stop from hyperventilating.

“What about Will?” Mike asks.

Before Steve can ask what he means, Jonathan cuts him off.

“I’ll talk with Will,” he responds, smiling at Steve. He lets out a small chuckle. “I think Will’s been wanting to meet you anyway. He’s heard enough about you from Dustin and Lucas that I think he feels a bit left out.”

“Really?” Everyone jumps at the volume of Steve’s voice, shocked.

“Yeah, man,” Jonathan laughs again. “They won’t shut up about how cool you are. I think even Max likes you.”

The scab on Steve’s lip breaks open, his smile so wide he can feel it prickle behind his eyes. He hoped the kids had grown used to him by now. Fairly confident that Dustin, Lucas, and Max enjoyed having him around, even if it was just to poke fun at him. All in good spirits, and that’s ok with him.

Knowing Will Byers, of all kids, wants the chance to get to know him is more than Steve could’ve ever hoped.

“I’d love that,” Steve chokes out, releasing his hands from Mike’s shoulders to rub the wetness from his eyes.

“Come over Thursday morning. Early, like six-thirty. Mom’s usually getting ready by then.”

Steve nods, hard and fast and excited enough that it makes him a bit dizzy. Last year, Jonathan had told Steve all was forgiven, that saving him from the demogorgon more than made up for their fight. He never really believed him. Steve only accepted the apology because it was important to Nancy, not because he felt he deserved it.

To find out Jonathan not only truly forgave him for what happened, but that he trusts Steve to keep Will safe. After everything the boy’s been through, everything the entire Byers family has survived, he feels overwhelmed with gratitude.

Mike sighs, low and exhausted. “If it’s ok with Will, then I guess I can give you another shot.”

Steve tastes the metallic tang of copper on his tongue when he smiles again.

“I promise I won’t let you down, Wheeler,” he vows. He’s met with a hesitant but genuine smile, and it fills him with hope.

Steve walks with them back up to the house to grab his shoes and coat. Karen greets them at the door, pulling Mike, then Nancy, and then Jonathan into a hug. He finds the same bitterness in his throat again, but it’s smaller now. Easy to push aside now that he’s starting to understand the Wheeler’s as they are, rather than how he used to see them.

He hopes he can be more than what Mike sees in him too, happy just to be given the chance to show them all the person he’s trying to be. Someone who’s safe and strong and caring. All the things he needs to be a good babysitter.

#mike has serious anger issues #steve harrington #post s2 #mike wheeler #karen wheeler #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #stranger things fic #steve and mike #past stancy #current jancy #hurt/comfort #no beta so lmk if you see any mistakes!#i always struggle with Mike and Nancy but I think I did well with this one #steve harrington whump #good babysitter steve harrington #the babysitter chronicles #queeniewritesstories

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