Teen Dad
Quite surprised there’s not a lot of these AUs considering how much Steve apparently sleeps around but anywho.
Teen Dad Steve who finds out one of the girls he’d slept with pre-Nancy is pregnant and he damn well intends on helping out however he can.
Turns out; helping means taking his son (his SON) and having full custody because the mom, no matter how much she wants to be involved, can’t take care of him.
Steve’s alright for the first 6 months of little Louie Harrington’s life.
But then his parents come home and shit hits the fan.
Which— fair enough. He was only 17 and already had a whole ass son, they were gonna freak out.
But kicking him AND aforementioned son out? With no where to go? No money? Barely a job?
That’s just fucked up.
But Steve makes do, and lives out of his car for no more than a month before finally landing his hands on a cheap trailer in Forest Hills.
He and Louie move in and sure, it’s rough. But he’s got a nice paying job at the Diner and yeah maybe he has to skip some classes to get extra money but it’s fine. It pays his bills and rent and that’s all that really matters.
It’s fine.
And then the second wave of Upside Down fuckery hits, and Steve’s suddenly in the hospital with a grade 4 concussion (whatever that means) and his top priority is to make sure someone is with Louie.
Enter Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom.
She takes care of Louie for as long as Steve is in the hospital and then some when Steve can’t be left unsupervised in case his head worsens.
And that’s how the Party is introduced to little Louie (as they all call him).
Steve’s stunned to find out that Mike and Lucas are so good with little kids, but the two of them love stopping by the Henderson’s (and later on the trailer) to see little Louie and offer to babysit for him whenever.
The other kids take a little bit of time to warm up to Louie (and the fact that Steve’s actually a parent) but when they do Steve never ceases to have at least one of them over.
And with all the racket brings in the attention of nosy neighbors.
Steve is well accustomed to nosy neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln next door to his parents were always looking to snitch on him for something or other.
But Miss Bottomette and her grandchildren Noah and Casey were sweethearts. Steve didn’t mind having them over for dinner or going over there. Miss Bottomette was the one to teach him how to actually put his cooking skills to work.
Linda and Tom, a newly married couple down the road, were quite eccentric but that’s what made them charming. Steve found their dog, Dasher, quite the sweetheart.
And even Mr. Knowles, the grouchy old man next door to Miss Bottomette, seemed to take a liking to Steve and Louie.
It wasn’t long before the story behind the new boy in 2718 New Bird Ave was revealed: Teen Dad Kicked Out.
Then the whole town knew. And while most people were nice about it, even supportive of how he had taken a step into his child’s life, there were always those people who sneered.
Steve ignored them, loving the life he was working on making for himself and Louie in the trailer park.
The only neighbors he never seemed to meet, despite the looming presence, were the Munsons, right across the street.
Steve knew about the Munsons. Well— he knew about Eddie Munson; drug dealer who was on his second run of senior year. Steve actually shared a few classes with him.
He’d yet to meet the mysterious Wayne Munson, but that was to be expected with work schedules.
And then Steve was graduating, and his parents didn’t show up.
But that was totally fine. Cause the kids, Claudia, Joyce— even Hopper with El— were there. They held up little baby Louie while Steve walked the stage.
He’d heard rumors of Eddie Munson having to retake senior year for a third time— but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Because sure, he missed more than his fair share of classes and scraped by with a C+ average.
But he did it.
And then summer hit, Dustin left for camp, and the mall opened up.
Steve picked up a job at Scoops Ahoy, cutting back on his hours at the Diner but still staying there because the money was needed and the tips were lovely.
And he meets Robin Buckley, and actually talks to Eddie Munson every once in a while when he stops in with his band, and lets the kids sneak into the movies because he’ll be damned if he robs them of a normal summer.
And then Dustin comes back and their reunion is short-lived because Russians are hellbent on torching non-existent information out of Steve and he’s busy getting his third concussion and then there’s a fucking flesh monster and Billy and Hopper for protecting them and—
It’s not a good night.
But then he’s rushed to the hospital and he tries to call Miss Bottomette only for the call to refuse to go through and shitfuckgoddammit.
Because what about Louie?
Miss Bottomette said she’d be alright watching Louie until Steve got home, but Steve wasn’t able to go home until someone was able to make time to take him home.
Usually, he’d lean on Hopper for this stuff, since his parents were out of the question. But—
But Hoppers dead.
So he’s stuck at the hospital for another day or two until finally, Claudia comes to pick him up.
He’s with Dustin in the backseat of the car, anxiously bouncing his leg and biting at his fingers and nails until Dustin gives in and just holds his hand. Robin’s there to, having been able to leave after the first night but coming with Claudia to pick him up. Steve’s relieved to have them both close by, even if his hands reach for Erica subconsciously.
His trailer’s empty when he gets home, and Miss Bottomette isn’t answering the door.
Steve’s on the brink of a full blown breakdown before Mr. Knowles— bless his heart— points them across the street.
The Munsons apparently have his son and have for a bit now since Miss Bottomette had a minor seizure and couldn’t be left alone with Louie. Mr. Knowles assured Steve that she and the kids were fine and staying with him for the moment.
Steve wasted no time afterwards sprinting to the Munsons and knocking on the door. Dustin and Robin are close behind him, Claudia waiting patiently in the driveway.
The door is answered by a gruff looking old man that’s taller than Dustin but slightly shorter than both Robin and Steve.
“You Harrington?”
Steve nods so fast he faintly wonders if that’s how bobble heads feels.
They’re let in in no time and the old man— the infamous Wayne Munson— calls out of Eddie.
Eddie Munson emerges a moment later with little Louie in his arms, bouncing softly on his feet to keep the baby calm.
Steve is in front of him in a second, scooping Louie gently out of his arms and into his own.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dustin’s rubbing his arms and Robin his back. Claudia is talking to Wayne, explaining what had happened (or the cover story version at least) and Eddie is hanging back a few feet from the three of them.
Robin takes little Louie in her arms and shoos Steve to the couch to calm down.
“Let him meet his auntie, Steve. You take a minute to breathe now, yeah?”
Steve was led to the couch with a soft hand on his shoulder from Eddie Munson, and they sat side by side while Steve worked on easing his breathing and to stop fucking crying.
Eddie’s shushing him and after a moment (and a clearly pointed cleared throat from Robin) Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shaking figure.
They leave the Munsons’ trailer is promises of new babysitters and a new friendship.
And then the fuckery that’s 1986 happens.
.
First Part:
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I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.
I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.
The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:
Most women have rape fantasies.
62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!
The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)
To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:
the "go to therapy!" line
Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)
Here are some particularly insightful resources:
1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.
2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).
3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)
4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.
5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.
the "why would you want that?" line
The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.
the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line
On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.
The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.
No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.
ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.
Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:
(X) (X)
The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth
Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.
The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:
1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)
2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.
What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).
Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.
You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!
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How Steve Harrington Gets a Family
The first time it happened, Steve didn’t remember. He had no idea why Hopper was acting so weird until Joyce took him aside, sighing softly.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “You don’t remember, do you?”
He frowns at her. “Remember what?”
“You called him dad, Steve.”
“I-” he gapes. “What?”
It goes like this.
He’d been hospitalized, after the Russians; he doesn’t know all the details, won’t for years, but Hopper had escaped from the reactor, thrown his weight—and title—around until someone had put Steve in a room, in a bed, gotten an IV into him, run whatever tests doctors run.
He was delirious with the truth serum still in his system and the adrenaline wearing off, groaning in pain and mumbling nonsense.
Hopper had put a hand on his head, said, “I’ve got you, Steve. You’re safe. It’s okay.”
“Dad,” Steve had mumbled, shifting into Hopper’s hand, and promptly passed out.
“Oh,” Steve whispers after Joyce tells him. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, no shit he’s been acting weird, I mean why would he want me as a kid- shit, I need to apologize-”
“Whoa,” Joyce says seriously, hands on his shoulders. “Slow down, Steve. You know Hopper loves you, right?”
Steve bites his lip on the snark that wants to come out, instead choosing to just blink at her.
“Christ,” Joyce laments, “I’m going back to school, everyone need so much damn therapy.” She takes a breath and looks Steve in the eye. “Hopper loves you, Steve. He’s considered you his kid for a long time now.”
Steve gapes at her. “No he hasn’t!”
Joyce raises a brow. “Uh-huh. And how many parties has he busted, exactly? And how many marks do you have on your record?”
Steve snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking up at Joyce. “He- he does? Really?”
“Really,” Joyce confirms, pulling him into a hug.
“Oh,” he mumbles, before letting himself enjoy the hug.
Later, when he’s about to head home, he stops in front of Hopper, glancing nervously over to Joyce, who nods encouragingly. “Can I, uh. Talk to you? For a second?”
Hopper narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Steve’s eyes widen. “No, nothing! Just-” he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, gestures Hopper out the door and around the side of the house. “So, Joyce and I were talking, right? And I was wondering why you’d been acting weird around me, and I didn’t even remember what I said in the hospital, so Joyce told me, and- and I don’t expect anything from you! At all! And it- how I feel doesn’t have to change anything-”
“Christ,” Hopper says, but he’s smiling. “I think you’re worse at emotions than I am.”
“Well I’ve never had to tell anyone I think of them as more of a father figure than my own father before!” Steve blurts out, then freezes.
Hopper bursts out laughing. “Jesus, kid, do you think before you talk?”
Steve’s not hurt. Really. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at Hopper. “I’ll leave.”
A hand on his wrist stops him. “C’mere, kid,” Hopper says, pulling him into a hug.
Steve stiffens. “What?”
“Boy, you’ve been my kid since the third time I didn’t write you up for one of those damn parties,” he grouses.
Steve relaxes into the hug. “So. If I, uh. Were to, maybe, call you dad again…”
“Just see what I’ll do if you don’t,” Hopper says gruffly, and it’s really not that funny but Steve’s just so relieved that he cracks up anyways.
They pull apart after a minute, and Steve has a giddy grin on his face as he backs up. “Bye, Dad,” he says, before turning and running to his car. Hopper’s laughter follows him.
He’s been close to Dustin for a while now, but still refuses to call his mom Claudia. The most he’ll do is Mrs. H, even though every time she sees him, she tries to get him to call her by her first name.
He can’t do it. He can’t make himself. Maybe it’s the manners instilled in him, maybe he’s just awkward as fuck, who knows. But he chickens out every time.
That’s why, when she answers the door, he smiles. “Hey, Mrs. H.”
“Steve,” she greets him warmly. “Come in, come in. Call me Claudia. Oh, what is this? I told you you don’t have to bring anything!”
“Just some cookies,” he promises her, putting them down where she directs and falling into the hug she gives him.
“Dear,” she asks him later, when they’re sitting at the table with Dustin, “call me Claudia, please?”
Steve can’t look at her; passes the butter Dustin’s silently asking for. “Sorry, Mrs. H.”
“Jesus,” Dustin groans, buttering his roll. “If you can’t even say her name then at least call her mom.”
Steve’s cheeks are on fire. “That’s not exactly up to me, Dust,” he grits out.
“Oh, dear,” Claudia sighs. “I would love for you to call me mom.”
“Then we’d be brothers,” Dustin adds, “which we basically are anyways.”
Steve snorts. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” he tells Dustin, but takes a breath and smiles at Claudia. “Thanks, Mom,” he says quietly. Claudia beams back at him.
“I don’t give a damn!” Claudia yells at the hospital receptionist, who really just looks exceedingly bored.
Steve knows the look of someone who’s grabbing their pepper spray. “Mom?” He calls, wet and wobbly, and Claudia spins around, running to his side.
“Oh, Stevie,” she murmurs, gently cupping his hands. “Oh, goodness, your face- have you gotten looked at? Has someone come to see you? Where’s Dustin?”
Steve opens his mouth to answer and promptly bursts into tears. “He’s f-fine,” he manages. “Ankle. Getting- getting helped. But- Mom-”
She hushes him, pulling him down into a seat next to her. “Let it out, Steve, there you go. Mom’s here, I’ve got you.”
He finally composes himself enough to pull back and look at her. “It’s not good, Mom,” he whispers. “I tried, I really did, and I know CPR but he was losing so much blood-”
“Steve,” she stops him, “I thought you said Dustin was fine?”
“He is, it’s just his ankle, but Eddie, Mom… he’s back there, they’re doing surgery, but he- I felt-” he grabs at his own chest, and somehow Claudia knows what he means. “Oh, dear,” she murmurs, pulling him into another hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into his ear. “You did what you could, you kept him stable until the doctors could do their job, and now it’s their turn, okay? Let them take care of it. They’re gonna do everything they can.”
His eyes well up again. “He didn’t kill anyone, Mom.”
“Oh, I know that, sweetie. It’s okay. I never thought he did.”
“But they do!” He sniffs, wipes at his face. “And what- what if-”
She pulls his attention back to her with a hand on his face. “Did I tell you about the time a known serial killer came in?” She whispers. He shakes his head. “He’d been in an… altercation, with the police. Shots had been fired. We all knew who he was, but when he flatlined on the table, we got his heart beating again.” She grips his hand tightly. “Doctors take an oath, Steve. They’re going to do everything they can. Okay?”
“Okay,” he mumbles, letting her pull him into another hug.
“Y’wanna tell me about Eddie?”
“You know Eddie.”
“Mhm, from Dusty. I’ve never heard about him from your perspective before.”
“I didn’t really know him before today,” he admits. “I knew of him, in high school, a little bit, but then I graduated and he didn’t and then Dustin started raving about him and… I got jealous.”
“Oh, Steve.” She cards a hand through his hair. “You know Dustin will always love you. You’re brothers.”
Steve sighs. “I know, but… we’re also not. I love you more than I love the woman who birthed me, and I love Dust as much as I’d love any biological sibling I could ever have, but-”
“I know,” Claudia says. “It’s okay, dear. Keep going. Tell me about Eddie.”
“Right. So I got jealous, and then I really didn’t wanna meet him, ‘cause he actually sounded kinda cool and I’m just… me. And I know what you’re gonna say, but you’re biased as my mom.” Claudia just chuckles. “But then I met him, and… he’s really nice, Mom. He really loves the twerps. And he’s, like… kind? And I know nice and kind are synonyms but it’s different. Like he’s just… an inherently good person. That’s kind. Nice you can fake. But you can’t fake kind. Y’know?”
“I know what you mean,” she agrees.
“Okay, good. Well he’s kind. He-” Steve sniffs. “He called me a good dude.”
“Well,” Claudia says, smiling, “you are.”
Steve chuckles wetly. “I am now, maybe, but I wasn’t when we knew each other in high school, and I didn’t really expect him to say anything. And he’s so passionate, Mom, and he’s talented, and he’s selfless, but that backfired because it landed him here-”
Claudia hums, strokes a hand through his hair. “How long have you liked him?” He stiffens. “Oh, please, like I haven’t known this entire time. Honestly, Steve, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not some backwards idiot especially who thinks two boys who love each other are the greatest sin.”
“No, it- Mom, you love Robin, of course you’re fine with it, I just- I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”
“Oh, Stevie,” she sighs, running her hand through his hair again. “When he gets out, are you gonna do something about it?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe. If- if he even wants to be friends-”
“Okay, now I know you’re talking crazy,” she teases him, grinning.
Just then Hopper walks in, looking around with wide eyes, stopping when he sees Steve. “Dad!” Steve yelps, standing and walking quickly towards him, stopping about three steps in. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, because he knows the way the room is spinning and his vision is going out.
He’s out before he hits the ground.
He wakes up later to find he didn’t hit the ground, actually; Hopper had leapt forward and caught him the second he’d stopped walking and started swaying.
He blinks bleary eyes open and finds himself looking at a ceiling tile. “What-”
“Don’t move,” comes Hopper’s voice from beside him.
He turns his head to frown at him. “Dad? What happened?”
“You passed out. Jumped outta Claudia’s arms like she’d burned you when you saw me. Much as I love you, kid, the parent’s gotta go first this time, ‘kay? No more self-sacrificing bullshit and not getting medical attention when you need it.”
“M’kay,” Steve says. “Sorry, Dad.”
Hopper puts a hand on his head. It’s comforting. “Go to sleep, kid.”
When he wakes up again, he’s more lucid. He looks around, sees Claudia asleep in the chair next to him. Looks on his other side, and his breath catches when he sees Eddie. His eyes are closed, he’s still asleep, but he’s alive.
“Mom,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from Eddie to look at her. He feels bad, a little, waking her, but only a little because he knows she’d tear him a new one if he didn’t. “Mom.”
She starts awake and tears up when she sees him. “Stevie,” she murmurs, cradling his face with her hand.
“Mom,” he says again. “He’s here.”
Claudia chuckles. “You can thank your father and I for that one. We raised hell.”
“I bet you did,” he says appreciatively.
“And you, young man,” she says, too full of love to really be mean, “next time you tell me when you’ve been half eaten, okay? Or have you forgotten I’m a nurse?”
“Didn’t forget,” he murmurs, nudging her hand with his face. “Just wanted to stay with you.”
“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs. “You beautiful boy.”
He falls asleep again.
He wakes up again later and looks over to see Eddie also awake, and also looking at him. “Eddie,” he breathes.
It’s hard to tell from where he is, but it looks like Eddie’s blushing. “Looks like I’ve got you to thank for saving my life.”
Now Steve’s blushing. “Ah,” he eloquently says. “No, I mean, just- what anyone else would do?”
“Are you asking me?”
Oh, god, is he teasing? Steve barely survived the flirting before, but now there’s nothing else to keep his attention off Eddie, nothing else he can blame the blush on. “…I just didn’t do much,” he belatedly says.
“Bullshit.” He shifts and hisses in pain. “Fuck, those bastards got me good. But that- that’s proof, y’know?”
Steve blinks. He doesn’t know. “What?”
Eddie grins at him. The stitches in his cheek pull, but don’t tear. “That you saved me.”
Abruptly, Steve tears up. He looks away, up at the ceiling, wills the tears to stay inside. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you-”
“No,” he answers quickly. Too quickly. There’s an awkward silence now. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I- I felt your heart stop, okay?” He looks over again, knows the tears are there, knowing they’re leaking into his hairline and across the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t sure the doctors were even gonna try that hard to save you. And now you’re joking with me, and-” he takes a quick breath, holds it. Releases it slowly. “‘M just glad you’re okay,” he finally says.
“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “I, uh. Didn’t think you really… cared. About me.”
“I think I care more than I should.”
Eddie takes a breath. “I’m about to say something way too brave, and I’m only saying it ‘cause we’re both in hospital beds and I’m assuming you can’t just, like, walk over and punch me.”
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. But, uh. Anyways. I don’t… people don’t care about me. My uncle Wayne does, sure, and the kids, but that’s different, and- well. I’ll take whatever care you wanna give me. It won’t be too much.”
“Okay,” Steve says, “well I definitely don’t want to punch you for that, what the hell, but I hope you know you’re gonna get hugged for that as soon as I figure out how to undo all this shit.” He gestures to the tubes in his arms, and Eddie starts to laugh, then stops just as quickly with a hiss.
“Okay, abs got eaten, no laughing,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Shit, dude, stay in bed, you had like five people in here earlier who all told me specifically to not let you out of bed, though how I’m supposed to do that I dunno.”
Steve blinks over at him. “Five?”
“Well- four, now that I count. Dustin was here with his mom, he’s getting released later but was allowed out of bed for a minute and came to see us. Robin, and she looked angry, are you two, like, okay?”
Steve snorts. “Yeah, she’s just worried.”
“And then Chief Hopper, which- do you wanna explain why the actual Chief of Police was in here?”
“Ah,” Steve says, and blushes again. “He kinda, like… adopted me? Not officially, obviously, but he’s… well, I call him dad, so-”
“And Claudia?”
Steve hums. “‘S my mom. Dust’s my brother.”
Eddie snorts. “Jesus, Harrington, d’you just go around collecting people to call your parents? How many d’you have now, four?”
“Nah, just two. My parents fucked off pretty permanently by the time I was nine. And before that I had nannies when they were gone.”
Eddie blinks at him. “You- wait. Back up. You’ve been alone for the entirety of high school?”
Steve thinks. “I mean, I had Hopper, kinda, but that was before he became Dad, so… I guess?”
“Goddamn,” Eddie whispers wonderingly. “And you’re still sane?”
Steve snorts. “Jury’s out on that one, I mean I do willingly hang out with the twerps, so-”
“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, man.” He sighs. “I get it, though,” he says quietly. “Mom was an angel, but… Dad got to her, y’know? Tore her wings off, rubbed her halo in the dirt. Poured alcohol down her throat until she was dependent on it. And him. And when she-” he shakes his head. “Then it was just Dad, and he got sent away ‘cause apparently his new car wasn’t his, y’know? And I went to live with Wayne at twelve.”
“But now you’ve got Wayne.”
“Mhm.” He smiles a little. “Call ’im pops sometimes, ‘cause he’s my real dad now. Sometimes Wayne, sometimes Uncle Wayne. He doe’n’t care much.”
“What’s it like? Living with him?”
“It’s been a dream, honestly. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and he’s got patience to rival a saint. Doesn’t care when I play my music loud, or forget to eat, or bring boy—uh, girls—over.”
Steve hums. “There’s still the house in Loch Nora, but I stay with the Hendersons most days. I tend to bring people I meet to Loch Nora, just ‘cause it’s empty, y’know? I mean, Dust’s a little shit, and he’d tease me regardless of who I brought home. Mom wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d probably give me a condom and lube,” he laughs. “And she’s teaching Dustin to be the same way. He’ll get there one day.”
“He’s a twerp,” Eddie agrees. “I didn’t know you, uh-”
“Mhm,” Steve answers. “Robin says I’m like Bowie.”
“Like Bowie- you’re bisexual?”
“That’s the one!” Steve says happily. “I can never remember the name.”
Eddie looks at him wonderingly. “Who are you, Steve Harrington?”
Eventually they get out of the hospital, and eventually they stop circling around each other. Eventually they kiss, and fall asleep on the couch, and make each other breakfast, and do certain things behind closed doors that Steve still can’t think about without blushing.
Eventually they’re outside the Munson’s trailer, working in the garden that Eddie, surprisingly, loved.
“Imma go in,” Steve says eventually. “Get a drink.”
“Alright,” Eddie says, not looking up from where he’s pulling weeds near his tomatoes. “I’ll be here.”
Steve has a bit of a headache already, and he knows drastic temperature changes don’t help. He didn’t think the trailer was that big of a difference, but it’s cool enough he’s got goosebumps breaking out along his arms almost immediately. Then he’s hit with a blast of freezing air when he opens the fridge, and his head begins to throb. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting the door and grabbing for a glass, hoping the sink water isn’t too cold.
It’s cooler than he’d like, but it’s all he’s got right now, and he knows if he doesn’t hydrate it’s going to end up worse. He chugs two glasses, sets the cup down, and goes to sit at the table, rubbing his eyes.
It gets worse almost without him realizing: one second his relatively fine, the next he’s groaning in pain, trying to block out all the light by laying his head on his forearm.
A hand on his back startles him. “Dee?”
“Wayne,” comes the gruff voice. “Not Eddie. Y’got a migraine?”
“Mhm.”
“Y’take anything for it?”
Steve waves a hand. “Had water.”
Wayne leaves for a minute, comes back and presses two pills into Steve’s hand. A glass of water is placed in front of him.
He takes the pills, squinting, and lays his head back down.
“Nuh-uh,” Wayne says, “up you get, c’mon, you’re sleepin’ this off.” Hands at his shoulders guide him out of his seat, shuffle him slowly down the hall to Eddie’s cool, dark room. Lay him down and pull the blankets over him.
Steve sighs and relaxes into the bed, cracking an eye open to look at Wayne. “Thanks, Pops,” he murmurs, then winces when Wayne freezes. “S’rry. Wayne.”
Wayne pets a hand through Steve’s hair. “Pops works just fine,” he says. “I’ll tell Ed you’re in here.”
“M’kay,” Steve breathes, and lets himself fall asleep.
They’re at Hopper’s cabin, an annual We Saved the World semi-party that usually ends in at least one disagreement.
Eddie’s got most of the kids corralled away in the living room, with promises of an epic one-shot. The adults, Steve, Max, and El are in the kitchen.
He doesn’t know who started it, but someone teases him, and Hopper ruffles his hair with another jab. “Dad,” he complains good-naturedly, laughing.
“Steve?” El asks.
“Yeah?” He looks at her.
“Hopper is your dad.”
Steve glances at Hopper, who’s listening, but making no move to answer. “I mean… not, like, biologically, but yeah.”
“Me too,” El says. “Are you my brother, then?”
Steve flounders. “I- I guess if you want me to be?”
“You’re a good brother to Dustin,” she answers. “I haven’t had any good brothers besides Will, and we are the same age. I would like a good older brother.”
He smiles, tugs her into a hug. “I guess I’m your brother, then.”
She goes willingly. “Does that mean Joyce is your mom too?” She looks up at him, big eyes serious. “She is a good mom.”
“Uh,” Steve says, “that’s kinda up to Joyce.”
“Oh, honey,” Joyce says, because of course everyone had stopped talking the moment El had started. “Why don’t you call me Mama J?”
Steve smiles bashfully, accepting her hug. “Sounds good to me.”
When he tells Eddie later, his boyfriend laughs. “You really do collect parents!”
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