Chapter Text
Joyce Byers may not have been the biological mother of every child who went through the horrors of the Upside Down, but she damn well thought of them all as her own. She prided herself on being a safe place—somewhere they could always run to when they needed it. And if any one of them were in danger, she wouldn’t hesitate to lay her life on the line.
Hopper wasn’t as overt about it, but she knew he felt the same. He displayed it in his own quiet way. When Joyce and Hopper had decided to move in together and unite their families, he’d made sure to look for a place with an extra room in case anyone wanted to stay or to have a quiet space to go exist in for a while. It also wasn’t uncommon to see him offering advice to one of the kids or giving them a comforting—if slightly awkward—pat on the shoulder while handing over a box of tissues.
For all intents and purposes, any child who had been through hell with them over the past few years was one of their own.
Steve Harrington also seemed to share that outlook, even if Joyce still thought of him as one of the kids himself. He had only just turned twenty, but she’d witnessed more than a few instances where he cared for the younger members of their odd little found family like they were his. Honestly, he was probably a better parental figure than most of the kids’ actual parents sometimes. It was sweet, the way he worried over them, always putting their needs before his own. But Joyce often found herself wondering: who was looking after him?
That’s why, when she opened the door at 6 p.m. on a Friday and found him standing with a duffle bag at his feet and a small child on his hip, her heart plummeted like she just missed a step on a step staircase.
“Hello, Ms. Byers,” he said softly, polite almost to a fault even though he looked completely lost. “Can we come in for a while? I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”
His voice was quiet, careful not to wake the little girl sleeping on his shoulder. She was wrapped in his jacket for warmth, her tiny hand clutching a stuffed bunny. A bright pink backpack hung from one of Steve’s shoulders so the little girl could rest her head against the other. The image would’ve been adorable if Steve didn’t look so utterly drained and disoriented.
For just a moment, Joyce stared at him and wondered if this was some kind of prank, but Steve looked genuinely distressed. Her mind raced. What happened? Who is the child? But instinct overrode confusion.
“Come in, sweetheart,” she said, stepping aside. “You don’t even have to ask.” She brushed some hair from his face and hissed at the icy chill of his skin. “Oh God, you’re freezing!”
“Sorry,” Steve murmured. “I don’t have a car anymore. I had to walk.”
“No apologies. Just get in here and get warm.” Joyce grabbed the duffle bag, hauled it inside, and shut the door behind them.
“I’m fine, don’t worry abou—”
“Go sit on the couch,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “I’ll get you some blankets and a hot drink.”
Before he could protest, she was already moving. She flitted around the house, gathering the softest blankets she could find. She draped them over the arm of the couch on the way to the kitchen and went to boil some water. Steve looked awkward, like he didn’t quite know what to do with someone fussing over him. He perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, still holding the toddler tightly in his arms, as if afraid to let go.
He looked like he might not handle too much attention at that moment. So, Joyce tried her best not to crowd him too much or ask any of the questions she was dying to know the answers to. Thankfully, Will and El were sleeping over at the Wheelers’. The kids tended to crowd Steve, and he clearly wasn’t in the mood for that tonight.
Joyce reached the living room doorway.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
In the time it had taken her to make the drinks, Steve had sunk into the couch a little more naturally. The girl was still fast asleep on his chest, her tiny fingers gripping his sweater like a lifeline. Steve was running his fingers gently through her hair, his eyes fixed on her with a look so soft, so full of wonder, it made Joyce’s heart ache.
It was a look any parent would recognise.
“Oh, Steve,” she said gently.
He jumped, startled. Joyce crossed the room and set the hot chocolate she’d made on the table beside him. She sat down next to him and placed a hand on his arm.
“She’s yours, isn’t she?”
Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah. I didn’t even know she existed until today, but I’ve already decided I want to keep her. Is that stupid? Do you think I’m throwing my future away or something?”
Joyce looked at him—really looked—and saw the love in his eyes. She had a feeling those questions weren’t his own. They were echoes of something someone else had said to him. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew who from the way Steve had told her he didn’t have anywhere else to go.
It made her blood boil.
“Steve, honey. You know what’s best for your future better than anyone else. And it’s okay to choose something different. You don’t have to follow anyone else’s expectations. That’s a load of crap.”
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
“You’re responsible. You’re resourceful. And you’ve got a lot of people who care about you and would help you in a heartbeat. If you want to be a parent, you can make it work.”
“Oh,” Steve said, surprised. “You’re not disappointed in me?”
He sounded so small.
Joyce had half a mind to drive to the Harringtons’ and key every car in their driveway. Hopper might not love the paperwork, but she could probably talk him around.
“No, I’m not disappointed in you. Not one little bit. And I never will be,” she said firmly. “It’d be hypocritical of me to judge. I was young when I had Jonathan. And you know what? I never regretted it. Not for a second.”
The front door opened and closed with a bang.
“I’m home!” Hopper’s voice boomed.
Joyce winced at the volume of his voice, the sound of boots thudding and keys clattering. He appeared in the doorway and froze. Joyce pressed a finger to her lips, but it was too late.
The little girl stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at Joyce before shrinking further into Steve’s chest. She made a small, frightened noise and clutched her bunny tighter.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Steve whispered, rocking her gently. “I’m here. I got you. You’re safe.”
“Hey there, sweetie,” Joyce said softly, her chest aching. Up close, the resemblance to Steve was even stronger. Those big brown eyes were unmistakable, and she even had little moles on her face just like he did.
The little girl shifted upright, just enough to peek around. Her curious eyes flicked between Joyce and Hopper. “Who’s this?” she asked, looking to Steve for answers.
“These are my friends, Olivia,” Steve said gently, her name slipping out of his mouth for the first time since he arrived.
“Olivia?” Hopper repeated, slowly taking a seat, his expression tinged with surprise. Joyce wondered if he’d caught on yet, if he’d noticed the striking resemblance.
Olivia nodded.
“That’s a pretty name,” Hopper said.
“Thanks,” Olivia murmured.
Steve gave her a warm smile. “This is Joyce, and that’s Hopper, but sometimes people just call him Hop.”
“Like a bunny!” Olivia gasped.
“Yeah, just like what a bunny does,” Steve replied, his voice soft and encouraging. “Bunnies are your favourite, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” she nodded with a bright smile. Then she turned to Hopper and held up her teddy. “This is my bunny, Daisy.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Daisy,” Hopper said, shaking the toy’s hand. Joyce loved this man.
“How old are you, Olivia?” Joyce asked in an attempt to keep her talking and settle her into her new surroundings.
“I’m three!” Olivia responded, holding up three fingers proudly.
Joyce did the math in her head. Three years ago, Steve was around seventeen years old, which means he was that age if not sixteen when Olivia was conceived. The thought of how young he was sunk like a stone in her stomach, but she tried her best to ignore it.
Hop exhaled sharply next to her, and she glanced over at him to see a series of complicated emotions pass over his face. Joyce understood. Their youngest kids were around the same age now that Steve would have been back then, and that’s a difficult thing to process because they still seemed like babies themselves sometimes.
“Your faces are funny,” Olivia giggled, drawing their attention back to her. It was such an innocent way of interpreting the concern that must be showing on their features.
“They probably do look a little funny, don’t they?” Joyce agreed with a smile, trying her best not to look so worried in front of the kid.
“I bet they don’t look as funny as this.” Hopper started pulling silly faces, Olivia’s giggles grew louder until she was full-on cackling. It was such an infectious sound that the three of them were soon laughing along with her.
“You’re silly,” she told Hopper happily.
“Hey mom?” Jonathan’s voice called out. “I was just wondering if you’d seen my-” He stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes were locked on the small child sitting in Steve’s lap and smiling at Joyce and Hopper. His mouth opened, then closed again, like he wasn’t sure what to say.
Steve blinked like he’d just been pulled out of a fog. His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, and his face fell.
“Oh, I forgot,” he muttered.
Jonathan stepped into the room, brow furrowed, fully distracted. “Forgot what?”
“We had plans tonight, right? With Robin, Eddie and Nancy? I completely forgot.”
Jonathan’s expression softened. “It’s okay, man. Seriously. Who’s the—uh—whose kid is that?”
“Just a second,” Steve said, then he turned to his daughter. “Hey, Olivia, do you want to sit down by the table and do some colouring or maybe some drawing?” he asked, trying his best to sell the idea.
Olivia nodded enthusiastically. “Can I make you a picture?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Steve beamed. “I can’t wait to see it!”
He very gently lifted her off his lap and placed her down on the floor next to the coffee table. Then he reached into the pink backpack and drew out some paper and crayons to neatly set on the table in front of her.
“I think you just answered my question for me,” Jonathan commented, stunned as Steve sat back down. “But I have so many more now. Like, how did this happen for starters?”
“There was a note,” Steve said, hesitant. “Left with her on my parents’ doorstep. Said she’s mine. Her mom couldn’t take care of her anymore.”
He reached into the pocket of his jeans with one hand and pulled out a folded piece of paper. His fingers held it tightly and handed it over slowly, like it weighed a hundred pounds.
Jonathan took the note, gently unfolding it. By the time he finished reading he was glaring at the page like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. Steve already knew how it sounded, how it made him look.
The words were almost etched into his brain:
Steve,
Congratulations. You’re a father.
Her name is Olivia. She’s three. You probably don’t remember the night she was conceived — not that I’m surprised. Actions have consequences, even if you were too out of it to realise what was happening.
I’ve done what I can, but I’m done now. She’s your burden now. Don’t bother trying to find me — I’ve moved on.
She likes crayons and cartoons and she’s a little brat when she doesn’t get her way. I don’t have high hopes but try not to screw her up too badly.
“Jesus, Steve.” Jonathan sat down slowly on the arm of the couch, his face pale. “This is just cruel. How could someone write this garbage?”
Hopper asked if he and Joyce could see it too. Steve agreed but grew nervous as their reactions were unreadable at first. The further they read, the darker Joyce’s facial expression grew, and Hopper’s jaw clenched so tightly Steve could practically hear his teeth grinding.
“She just left her there all on her own in the cold, waiting for someone to open the front door and find her, called her a burden.” He spat out the last word like it was poison.
He took a deep, shaking breath, trying to calm himself down.
“I know how it makes me look. My parents lost it as soon as they saw it. Said I was an idiot, and I’d embarrassed them. Told me to get out. Took my car keys. I didn’t know what else to do, so I walked here.”
“How it makes you look?” Joyce said in disbelief. She handed the note back to Steve like it might burn her fingers. Steve folded it back up. “Steve, it makes it look like you were a kid, and you were taken advantage of.”
“You know that you can talk to us, right?” Hopper said, looking at Steve like he already had all the pieces put together. “If anything happened to you, if anyone... did anything to you. You can tell us.”
Steve flinched, just barely, but enough for everyone to notice. His eyes stayed fixed on the folded note in his hands, knuckles white around the edges.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly. “It’s not… I remember some things. Some details are... fuzzy. I can’t really talk about it right now. Not when she can hear.”
Joyce exchanged a glance with Hopper, her expression softening. “Okay,” she said gently. “You don’t have to. Not until you’re ready. And not at all if you don’t want to.”
Hopper nodded, his voice low but steady. “Just know we’re here. No judgment. No pressure.”
Steve gave a small nod. “Thanks.”
There was a long pause, filled only by the soft scratch of crayon on paper and Olivia’s quiet humming. Then Steve finally looked up, his voice clearer when he started to speak.
“She’s what matters now. That’s all I care about.” Steve looked at each of them, his eyes glassy. “I’m really sorry to just dump all of this on you guys.”
Joyce moved to sit beside him, placing a hand on his back. “You did the right thing. You brought her somewhere safe. And you’re not alone, Steve. You’ve got us.”
“We’ve got your back. Whatever you need.” Hopper said, his voice low but steady. “And you’re staying. I don’t care how long, stay forever if you want. No arguments. This is your home now too.”
“Are you all okay with that?” Steve asked, looking at Joyce and Jonathan for confirmation.
“Absolutely,” Joyce said with a firm nod.
“Are you kidding me?” Jonathan added. “Will and El will be over the moon. Of course I’m okay with it.”
“Could you tell the others I’m not coming tonight? I don’t mind if you tell them about everything or if you let them come to me to find out.” Steve said to Jonathan. “I just need the others to know that I’m not ditching them. I can’t leave her. Not now.”
Jonathan nodded immediately. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ll explain everything.”
“Thanks,” Steve whispered. “I owe you.”
Jonathan headed out, casting one last glance at Steve and Olivia before slipping out the door.
“Steve!” Olivia called brightly, waving him over. “I finished my picture! You gotta come see!”
Hopper and Joyce immediately took notice of the fact that she didn’t call him ‘dad’ but didn’t draw attention to it just yet.
“You did?” he said with a smile, kneeling beside her at the coffee table.
“Yep!” she said proudly, sliding the paper toward him. She leaned against his arm, her little fingers gripping his sleeve as she pointed. “That’s me on the horsey, and that’s you with the big sword! You’re fightin’ the bad wolves so they don’t get me.”
Stick figures were never something Steve thought would make him cry, but he was dangerously close as he took in the details of her drawing—tiny hearts, stars, and a very lopsided sun smiling down on them.
“This is amazing, Liv,” Steve said, his voice warm. “It’s like you’re a princess and I’m the knight.”
“I am a princess,” she said matter-of-factly. “And you kept me safe today. That’s what knights do.”
Steve put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I love it,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I think this might be my most favourite picture ever.”
“Really?” Olivia asked, tilting her head up to look at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “You’re not just sayin’ that?”
“I mean it,” Steve said. “I’m gonna keep it safe forever. Maybe even put it in a frame.”
“Even when you’re old?” she asked. “Like... thirty?”
Hopper made an affronted noise from behind them. Steve couldn’t hold back his laughter at her bluntness.
“Yes, even when I’m thirty.” Steve nodded.
Olivia beamed, oblivious to the existential crisis she’d caused the Chief of Police. “I can make more! Like, a whole bunch.”
“That would make me very happy,” Steve replied, smiling.
She paused, then looked up at him again. “Will you draw for me too? Like, maybe one with a dragon? But a nice dragon. Not a scary one.”
“Of course I will,” Steve said, already imagining how terrible his dragon would look, but knowing he’d do it anyway.
Jonathan stood on the Wheelers’ porch for a moment, the cold air biting at his skin. He rubbed his hands together, trying to shake off the weight of the information he now carried and Steve’s trust in him to deliver it. Inside, he could hear Eddie’s dramatic ranting voice, joined by Robin and Nancy’s amused interjections.
They would be cool and supportive about it just like he was, he already knew that. Steve had been their rock, picked things up for them when they couldn’t. They wouldn't hesitate to do the same for him. It was just a lot, and Jonathan wasn’t sure if he’d do a good job imparting all the details. He didn’t want Steve to have to tell his story repeatedly because he was clearly exhausted and stressed out.
After collecting his thoughts for a few beats, he let himself inside.
The group was gathered around the living room, a half-played board game between them. Eddie and Robin were bickering, something about Robin cheating on her last move. Nancy looked up first, her smile faltering when she saw Jonathan’s face.
“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jonathan said, not moving to take a seat. He eyed the door to the basement, knowing that the younger members of their group would be down there. Luckily the door was closed, and their voices were too loud for them to overhear anything anyway. Especially if the chaotic sounds of two different conversations and an argument taking place simultaneously that could be heard from behind the solid wood were anything to go by.
That was good, Jonathan was pretty certain that Steve would want to be the one to tell them when he was ready.
“Steve’s not coming,” he announced, deciding to get right to the point.
Robin’s expression shifted from playful to concerned in an instant. “Is something going on? I couldn’t get hold of him at his house earlier. His parents were... weird on the phone, like they couldn’t wait to hang up on me.”
Not knowing how to start, Jonathan hesitated.
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?”
Jonathan exhaled slowly. “Not really. Something kind of big happened.”
All three of them visibly stiffened, their nerves palpable.
“Like... ‘code red’ big?” Robin asked slowly.
Jonathan felt like kicking himself. Of course they would immediately think something Upside Down related was going on. He looked at each of them, trying to find the right words.
“Steve’s been kicked out of his house,” he said. “Also, he has a daughter he didn’t know about.”
That could’ve been handled more delicately, he probably should have led with the daughter thing.
Robin blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, he turned up at my house earlier with a little girl. Three years old. He said he found her on his doorstep with a note. His parents kicked him out, took his car and he didn’t know where else to go so he went straight to my mom and Hopper.”
“Are they both okay?” Eddie asked.
“Olivia -Steve’s daughter- seems fine. She was smiling and drawing a picture with crayons when I left.”
“And Steve?” Eddie pressed.
“He’s seemed exhausted, but he was holding it together. As much as someone can in that situation.” Jonathan answered. “He asked me to tell you guys he’s not coming tonight,” Jonathan added. “He didn’t want to leave her. Not even for a minute.”
Robin stood up, pacing. “Of course he didn’t. That’s so Steve. God, he must be freaking out.”
“I think he is, but he’s trying to act normal for Olivia. I mean, she’s basically been left with someone who’s a complete stranger to her. He probably wants to make her feel safe.” Jonathan said quietly. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at her. Like she was the most important thing in the world.”
The group sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the news settling over them. The board game was forgotten.
Nancy leaned forward, equal parts suspicious and concerned. “Why are you doing that thing with your face?”
“What thing?”
“The thing you do when there’s something you’re not saying,” she accused.
Suddenly, Jonathan had three pairs of eyes on him, analysing him like he was under a microscope. Jonathan sighed, checked the basement door again, and moved further into the room. He dropped into a chair like a string that was holding him up had been cut.
“So, I saw the note, and it’s awful. There’s something in there that Steve doesn’t want to talk about with Olivia around, but it sounds like,” he took a calming breath. “It sounds like someone did something to him when he was barely conscious.”
The information hit the room like a gunshot, silence ringing in its wake as the others tried to make sense of what they’d just heard.
Eddie didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at the carpet, his jaw tight. Then, quietly, he got up and started gathering the snacks.
“What the hell are we still doing here?” He asked the group without looking. “Get your things together and get in my van, we’re taking this show on the road.”
Robin already had her coat halfway on and Nancy was putting the board game back in the box and tucking it away neatly before he even finished speaking.
The sight the group were greeted with as they filed into the Byers house and peered through the living room door was really quite adorable. Steve with a little girl on his lap, both of them drawing with crayons, the girls’ purple and Steve’s pink. She said something to Steve, and he laughed.
He paused for a second to tickle her in the side and she giggled, pushing him away with her little hands and complaining at him loudly, but a bright smile was on both of their faces the entire time.
Steve seemed to sense that there were eyes on him and looked up, freezing when he spotted his friends in the doorway.
“Hey,” Robin said, her voice full of emotion. “We figured you could use some company.”
“Oh.” Steve replied, surprised, like he had expected them to just have fun without him. “You really didn’t have to-”
“We know,” Eddie interrupted. “We wanted to.”
Steve gave a small, nervous smile. “This is Olivia,” he said, an anxious edge to his words, worried about what they were thinking.
Olivia, who had been watching them curiously since they started talking, patted Steve on the arm and asked, “Are those friends too?”
“They’re my very best friends,” Steve said, smiling. Eddie’s chest, honest to God, fluttered at the words—like it was full of butterflies all trying to escape at once. “That’s Robin, Eddie, and Nancy, and you’ve already met Jonathan,” he added, pointing them out one by one.
“Hi, Steve’s friends!” Olivia chirped, giving a cheerful little wave. Then she pointed directly at Eddie and said with complete sincerity, “You have pretty hair. Like a real-life princess.”
Robin and Nancy let out surprised laughs, and Eddie blinked, momentarily stunned. His heart felt like it had melted into a warm puddle. It was such a Steve-like thing to say—complimenting someone’s hair before anything else—and now here was this tiny version of him doing the same thing.
“Why thank you, Lady Olivia,” he said with a dramatic flourish, bowing slightly as he walked over and sat beside them on the carpet. “May I see what a great artist like you has been working on?”
“Sure!” Olivia said brightly, handing him a piece of paper.
There were two stick figures. One was on what appeared to be a horse, the other holding what looked like a sword, facing off against scribbly grey shapes that were probably dogs or maybe wolves. In messy, oversized handwriting, the figure on the horse had been labelled ‘me’ and the one with the sword was labelled ‘Steeb’.
“This is awesome, Olivia!” Eddie grinned. “Is this Steve saving you from a pack of wolves?”
“Uh huh,” Olivia nodded. “He’s a hero.” Then she leaned in and whispered loudly, “But don’t worry, it’s not real wolves. They’re just pretend.”
Eddie looked up at Steve, who was watching her with that soft, proud look in his eyes. He thought back to the day Steve had thrown a Demobat around by its tail like it weighed nothing, the stories the kids told about him, and the moment he’d woken up in the hospital to hear Steve had carried him there, yelling for help.
“Yeah,” Eddie said quietly. “That he is.”
Steve met his eyes for a second, wearing that same half-surprised, half-confused expression he always had when Eddie leaned in too close or called him a sweet, ridiculous nickname. The moment was broken when Robin plopped down on Steve’s other side.
“Can I draw too?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Olivia said enthusiastically, passing her a blank sheet of paper.
“Hmm,” Robin hummed, pretending to think for a second. “What should I draw?”
“You should draw a mermaid.”
“A mermaid?”
“Yep,” Olivia said. “Mermaids are pretty and you’re pretty.”
“I think I like you already, kid.” Robin smiled. “Okay, one mermaid coming right up.”
Olivia turned to Eddie. “You wanna draw, Eddie?”
“I would love to,” Eddie nodded.
Soon Olivia had all five of them squeezed in around the table, drawing pictures in crayon and asking and answering questions about things like their favourite animals and what things they like to do.
At some point, Eddie reached out to grab the red crayon nearest to him but was intercepted when Olivia suddenly took hold of his hand and dragged it in front of her face. She ran her fingers over his silver rings and examined each one with intrigue.
“I like your rings,” she smiled, a small dimple appearing in her cheek. “This one looks like a treasure. Did you find it in a dragon cave?”
Eddie chuckled. “Not quite, but I like that story better.”
“Olivia,” Steve said gently, “remember to ask before you touch someone, okay? Some people might not like it.”
“Oh,” Olivia responded, letting go of Eddie’s hand. “Is it okay?”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Eddie said, putting his paper down and turning to face her so he could hold out his other hand for her to look at too. “But thank you for asking.”
As she inspected the jewellery, Olivia noticed the trail of bat tattoos just poking out from under his sleeve. “There’s a drawing on your arm!” she exclaimed.
Eddie looked at Steve sheepishly and tugged on his sleeve to try and cover it.
“It’s okay, Eddie,” Steve said with an amused huff, reaching over to push the sleeve back up. “Kids are curious, so she’s going to find out about tattoos eventually. No harm done.”
“What’s a tattoo?” Olivia asked.
“It’s like a special kind of drawing that grown-ups can put on their skin.” Steve informed her. “It's made with tiny little needles and special ink, and it stays there for a very long time. Sometimes people get tattoos to show something they love and sometimes people just get them because it looks cool."
Olivia gently touched the artwork on Eddie’s arm. “The bats are so cute,” she said. Then, after a pause: “Do they fly away at night?”
Eddie blinked. “What?”
“The bats,” she said seriously. “Do they fly away when you sleep?”
Robin snorted. Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing.
“No,” Eddie said, grinning. “They stay right here on my arm. All night.”
“Oh,” Olivia nodded, clearly disappointed. “Do you have a tattoo, Steve?”
“No, I don’t have any,” Steve answered.
“Why not?” she asked, the full force of her curiosity trained on him.
“Hmm,” Steve paused to think about it before giving her a shrug. “I guess I don’t really know.”
“You want one?”
Eddie fully expected Steve to say no. But then, as he should’ve learned by now, Steve surprised him.
“Maybe one day,” Steve muses. “Maybe you could draw something for me, and I’ll get that as a tattoo.”
“That’s a good idea,” Olivia says. “I like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Olivia said, but this time it came out more yawn than word.
“You tired, sweetheart?” Steve asked. He just received a nod in response. “Okay, let’s get you to bed.”
“Can you read me a story?” she requested.
Steve froze, looking a little lost. “Sure,” he agreed, picking up a pink backpack from the ground as he lifted her.
Eddie was on his feet before he even realized he’d moved. Steve looked at him, startled.
“Uh, you want some help?” Eddie offered, still not even knowing where he was going with this but wanting to spend more time with the two of them. “You can read, and I’ll do the voices.”
Steve exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Thanks, man. That would be a really big help,” he said softly. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for character voices.”
Eddie gave him a small smile, something warm flickering behind his eyes. “Don’t worry, Steve,” he said, voice a little softer than usual. “I’ve got enough voices for the both of us.”
Olivia, half-asleep on Steve’s shoulder, mumbled, “Eddie has to do the dragon voice.”
Eddie blinked. “Okay. I’ll do the dragon voice.”
“Make it grumpy,” she added, eyes already closing a little.
Steve looked down at her, then back at Eddie, his expression somewhere between amused and overwhelmed. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Eddie nodded, reaching out to take hold of the pink backpack so Steve had both arms free to support Olivia. “Absolutely. Let’s go read about dragons.”
Steve left the room, followed by Eddie.
The other three sat in silence for a moment or two, then Jonathan nudged Nancy and whispered, “I give it a fortnight before one of them confesses.”
Nancy smiled. “I give it a week.”
“Four days,” Robin grinned devilishly. “Wanna make this interesting?”