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Just like every other staple of Hawkins, Family Video harbors memories Steve would rather forget. Not as terrible as the Creel House, which only became more infamous after the chaos receded; or the junkyard, that’s become a new hotspot for local teens. Pain follows Steve wherever he goes, no matter how hard he tries to shake it. Even when he’s looking for the stupid movie Eddie chose for their weekly movie night. Eddie claimed he wanted to go above and beyond with his choice in honor of Steve’s birthday the following day.
The store’s layout changed after the “earthquake”, but Keith kept his preferred style of organization. At the front of the store, the bell rings as Steve finally finds Eddie’s request, Rocky Horror Picture Show. Instinctively, Steve looks up and is met with the sight of you. He does a double take, as if you’ll magically turn into an average Hawkins resident, someone he’s seen on the daily for the nearly thirty years of his life he’s spent in the town instead of a fucking Hollywood star.
Even with the sunglasses, Steve could recognize your face anywhere. Keith trips over himself to help you, asking a dozen questions in a voice that grates on Steve. You brush him off, wandering the store on your own. Surprisingly, Keith takes the hint, though he no doubt plans to make a move at the register before you leave.
When he realizes just how close you are, Steve is broken out of his stupor. This could be the universe’s ultimate birthday present. Just play it cool, Harrington.
“What movie are you looking for?” Steve asks, trying to slip some of his long lost charm in. “I used to work here. Know the place like the back of my hand.”
A soft smile forms on your face, a warmer reaction than the one you gave to Keith, “I’ll be okay, but thank you.”
Steve trails after you as you peruse the store’s somewhat dated inventory. Then he spots his opener, and the final movie on his list.
“Have you seen Top Gun?”
You chuckle, “No.”
“Seriously? Never?”
“I had to pretend that I knew any Tom Cruise movies when I met him at an event,” you admit, giving up on hiding and sliding your sunglasses back onto your head. Somehow you’re more beautiful in person than you are on screen. Feeling your gaze focused back on him sends a jolt through Steve’s body, he smoothes his hair and straightens his collar.
“You know, girls used to tell me that I look like Tom Cruise,” Steve holds the VHS tape up to his face for comparison. “What do you think?”
Instead of responding, you turn your attention back to the shelf in front of you. It’s an ego hit. At least you didn’t laugh in his face. Steve sees Dirty Dancing in your hand and decides to shoot one final shot.
“I love that movie,” he sidles up beside you. “If you don’t want to pay, you can come over to my place, I own it on VHS. You could even keep it after–”
Keith crashes into you, pulling your attention away from Steve. The smell of Mountain Dew clings to the air and your shirt. In an attempt to steady you, Steve holds your arm. Keith backs off immediately, mouth agape. Your shirt definitely costs more than Keith makes in a week.
“Hey, my place isn’t too far from here,” Steve scans your expression for signs of discomfort before stepping a little closer. “I can show you the way and get you cleaned up in no time.”
…
Steve watches your car through his rearview mirror on the drive to his tiny house on Willard Street. Eddie’s car is missing from the driveway. Thank God. He lets out a sigh of relief. In terms of roommates, Eddie is a step below mediocre, but the arrangement has kept them both from feeling like complete failures; Steve didn’t have to sell the house after Kristen broke off the engagement and Eddie had a place to hide out after Corroded Coffin’s record deal fell through.
You’re quiet as Steve leads you through the house back to the shared bathroom. The silence claws away at Steve, he sneaks glimpses back at you to make sure you aren’t disgusted by the bachelor-pad-like state of his home.
“Thank you,” your features soften, Steve can’t tell if it’s because you’re face to face with him again or if you’re just relieved to get rid of your soda stained top. Hopefully it’s the former.
“I’ll leave a clean shirt outside the door.”
Finding a clean shirt he’s willing to give you is a harder task than Steve thought it would be. What do you give a movie star who spends most of her time in designer clothing? Finally, he settles on a semi-new Hawkins Middle shirt he bought from the end of year fundraiser, setting it neatly on the floor in front of the bathroom door. A few minutes later, you crack the door open and grab the shirt. It gives his eyes time to linger on the reflection of your bare torso in the mirror. The last thing he wants is to come off as a pervert, so he shuts his eyes, ignoring the warmth rushing to his cheeks and the twitch of his cock in his sweatpants. Fuck.
The dirty thoughts only intensify when you step out of the bathroom in his shirt. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you as his girlfriend, the delusion of being loved is enough to make him believe it's possible. Even though time after time, his hopes have been crushed because at the end of the day, who in their right mind would want to spend the rest of their life with him? Someone like you certainly wouldn’t.
“This should help me blend in more,” you joke.
“I think it’s impossible for a woman like you to blend in,” Steve’s attempt at flirting is mediocre at best. There was a time when he would’ve had you wrapped around his finger, or, at least, wrapped in his sheets.
“A woman like me?” You raise an eyebrow, feigning offence.
“People always notice beautiful women,” Steve winks, a decision he instantly regrets.
Now, you laugh in his face, “Is that how you flirt…” The space where his name would be hangs empty in the air.
“Steve,” he finishes. “Steve Harrington.”
“Well it was nice to meet you, Steve,” you adjust your purse on your shoulder.
It doesn’t seem like the right time to ask you to stay, no matter how much Steve wants to, “It was nice to meet you too. Surreal but nice.”
Before Steve can process what’s happening, your fingers are buried in the hair at the nape of his neck and your lips are pressed against his. Kissing you feels more natural than anything Steve has ever done, he slips his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer, wanting to feel all of you. Warmth surges through his body. There’s no urgency or desperation in the kiss, at least not on your part. Your bodies fit together like they were always meant to be intertwined, the intimacy of it makes Steve want to cry. It’s been so long.
You pull away just enough to murmur, “For the record, I think you’re hotter than Tom Cruise. Taller too.”
The bliss washes away now that the kiss is broken, a sort of terror taking over your expression.
“I’m sorry,” then you’re gone and the encounter develops wisps like a dream he’ll never be able to return to.
…
If Steve’s younger self saw what his life looked like just two days after his 30th birthday, he would blow his brains out; single, childless, barely making enough to make ends meet, and roommates with none other than Eddie Munson. Steve would laugh if it wasn’t so depressing. Fumbling his chances with one of the most famous actresses in the world just the day before his birthday only adds salt to the wound. He considered driving around town to see if he could find you again until he realized how creepy that would be. Instead of spending his birthday weekend cuddled up watching movies with you, he’s struggling through his mother’s neatly written party recipes before his closest friends descend on the house. Even with his reading glasses, he needs to squint to read his mother’s handwriting. It doesn’t matter that none of his friends could get in town on the pitiful Thursday that was his actual birthday. Steve’s glad they weren’t witnesses to his spiral.
“Harrington!” Eddie rounds the corner, phone pressed into his shoulder. “So a couple days ago, I found a number written on a piece of paper in the bathroom and thought it was from one of my paramours, right?”
Steve pushes his wire-frame glasses up his nose, he’s more focused on the way the onions he’s cutting make his eyes prickle than whatever Eddie is rambling on about, “Right.”
“I finally got around to calling the number and… it wasn’t anyone I’ve hooked up with, at least not anyone that I remember hooking up with. Glad that you’ve finally got some, man.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, whoever picked up asked for you.”
Then it hits him, “Eddie, give me the phone.”
“Not until you tell me who this mystery woman is,” Eddie hops onto the counter, right next to the cutting board.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Hand over the phone and get your ass away from the food.”
Eddie mumbles something under his breath but relents, giving over the phone and wandering off.
“Hey,” he sounds on edge, even after multiple deep breaths.
“You finally called.”
“My idiot roommate stole your number. I would’ve called you sooner.”
The awkward silence that follows makes Steve want to stab himself. Why hadn’t he checked the bathroom after you left?
“I just wanted to apologize for the kiss. It was a total mistake.”
Steve’s definitely going to stab himself once you’re off the line, “Yeah…”
“Not because of you. It’s me, my life. I wouldn’t want to drag you into it. It’s too overwhelming for any normal person to handle. Just kissing me could get you on the cover of People Magazine.”
“I’m definitely not a normal person,” Steve chuckles. “If you want me in your life, I’ll learn how to handle it.”
You pause and Steve prays he hasn’t come on too strong, “Is the movie night offer still on the table? I could come over tonight. And I’ll bring back your shirt.”
“Shit, a bunch of my friends are coming over for my birthday dinner tonight,” Steve would be willing to send them packing to spend the night with you, but it’s far too late for that.
“Oh…” Steve must be imagining the disappointment in your tone. There’s no way you’re upset about not being around him. “If you don’t mind me crashing your party, I could still come.
“Fair warning, my friends are… a lot, and the food’s going to be terrible since I’m the chef.”
“You’re cooking your own birthday dinner? On your own?” something shuffles on your end. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What? Don’t bother. It’s fine, I promise.”
“It’s your birthday, Steve,” you reply as if that settles it.
Before he can say anything else, you hang up. As selfish as it feels to admit it, Steve wants your help, just so he can see you again. He would’ve been satisfied with seeing you for another thirty seconds, but seeing you for hours feels like his wildest dream come true.
…
“I actually took a few cooking classes while filming in Southern France,” you say as Steve helps you tighten the strings of the apron around your waist, his fingers brushing against your spine as he ties the knot.
The only clean apron left in the house was one that says: ‘I’m so hot that I even turn the grill on’, it was a gag gift from Eddie, one that seemed a lot less funny when Steve had to present it to you. Luckily, you’d laughed and slid the apron on like it wasn’t awkward at all. God, you really are an incredible actress.
“That’s… impressive,” he isn’t sure what else to yet another reason why you’re totally out of his league.
Steve hasn’t even traveled out of the country. The thirty years he’s had to explore feel like a complete waste in comparison to how you’ve lived your life. Sure, he takes road trips around the Midwest and East Coast, usually to visit friends who can’t think of anything less appealing than returning to Hawkins. In the past few years, the most adventurous thing he’s done is drive to California to visit Max and Lucas for the summer. Otherwise, he exists on the same monotonous loop day after day.
You take his comment in with a smile, “So you already know what I do for work, but you haven’t told me what you do. For all I know you could be a spy or a male prostitute,” you waggle an eyebrow.
Heat rushes to Steve’s face, “No, no,” his attempt to laugh it off is pitiful. “I’m a middle school counselor. And I coach the baseball team."
“That’s more impressive than what I do,” you nudge his shoulder, then let your hand drift down his arm, lingering for just a second too long on his bicep. “You help kids for a living. That’s saintly.”
“Alright, I wouldn’t go that far. I know what it feels like to not have anyone looking out for you and… I want to be that person for the kids, you know?”
You nod, a softness that toes the line between pity and understanding entering your expression. The look in your eyes makes Steve want to confess every little insecurity and secret until his chest feels hollow and his mind calms in a way that it hasn’t since his life was turned upside down in ‘83. The loving response he’s imagining is a fantasy, you’re more likely to distance yourself in horror of what he’s shared than pull him close and whisper reassurances. No one would accept him once they’ve heard his story, if they believe it at all.
“These are adorable,” you pick up one of the recipe cards scattered across the counter, tracing the border of the stationary with your fingertip.
“My mom made them,” saying those words fills Steve with a pride he can’t quite place. “She’s boiled party planning down to a science. I think she’d have a heart attack if she saw all this,” he gestures to the mess covering every surface in the kitchen.
“If we clean up first it’ll make things a lot easier,” you gather the recipe cards in your hands, shifting them into a neat stack before sliding them back into the container strewn on its side next to the stove.
Steve gives you the best smile he can muster and adjusts his glasses, “Let’s get started.”
…
With your help, and eventually Eddie’s after you practically ordered him to make himself useful before he left to pick Dustin up from the airport, dinner is prepared without all the stress Steve initially expected. It’s not up to his mother’s standards, or his own if he’s being completely honest. The cake is slanted to the left, threatening to topple over with one wrong move, and the casserole is burnt at the edges. But it’s edible and somewhat presentable which is good enough for him; especially since you aided his efforts, taking time out of your day simply because you think he deserves to have his workload lightened. Steve isn’t sure how to express his gratitude without sounding like a sappy loser but he’s determined to find a way.
Nancy and Robin are the first to arrive, the gifts piled into Robin’s arms come tumbling to the ground when she spots you.
“Holy shit! Is that–”
She stops when Steve opens his mouth to cut her off, noticing his silent plea to not make him look like a total fool. The warmth of your hand against his arm sends sparks through Steve’s body, aftershocks washing over him as you step forward to introduce yourself.
Even Nancy seems starstruck, “What are you doing in Hawkins?”
Somehow, the question hadn’t even crossed Steve’s mind. It’s the most obvious thing to ask yet it had evaded him during the initial encounter, over the phone, and in the hours you’ve spent helping him prepare for the celebration.
You stiffen at the question, eyes darting to the presents still lying at Robin’s feet, “I just needed to get away from it all. I was so overwhelmed, this seemed like a nice change of pace and a good hide out.”
Steve slips a hand around your waist tugging you to his side like it will protect you from whatever you aren’t saying. Nancy gets that ever familiar glint in her eye but the door swings open before she can follow up. Dustin pushes past Nancy and Robin, rushing right into Steve’s chest. You slip out of Steve’s arm allowing him to wrap Dustin up in a tight hug.
“I missed you,” Dustin mutters into Steve’s shirt.
“Missed you too, Henderson.”
Eddie bear hugs Nancy despite her resistance, Robin joins in with a massive grin on her face. Seeing the group assembled makes Steve’s chest ache. Things could’ve been like this more often. They should be like this more often. But the plans to meet in Pennsylvania every year had fallen through almost as quickly as they'd been made. Everyone moving on with their lives, making these moments less frequent than Steve would want. Still, it feels like the world has been set right again and Steve doesn’t fight the joy overtaking his body.
“Is that everyone?” You ask slowly, as if you’re unsure if you should be speaking at all.
Steve shakes his head, “Max and Lucas are coming over from his family’s place.”
He’d given you brief descriptions of his friends while you were cooking in an attempt to prepare you. Clearly it hadn’t been enough judging by the confusion on your face. He can’t blame you for it. Dustin finally leaves Steve’s grip to inspect you.
“Are you Steve’s new girlfriend?”
“She’s a literal movie star,” Robin cuts in. “How can you not recognize her?” She stares at Dustin incredulously, waiting for an answer.
Dustin’s jaw drops open, he spins back around to face Steve, “You’re dating a movie star?”
“We’re not— I mean I would date her but we just met.”
“So you… invited her to your birthday party?” Nancy raises an eyebrow.
“No, we met before and she left her number then Eddie— you know what? It doesn’t matter. She’s a friend,” he peeks around Dustin. “Is that okay?”
Thankfully, you nod, “I’d love to be your friend or more.”
Steve tries to ignore the flush that rises to his cheeks but Eddie’s knowing smirk only furthers his embarrassment. He’s never been more glad to hear the doorbell ring than, skirting around everyone and ignoring Eddie’s interrogation about what you mean by “more” to let Max and Lucas in.
Lucas is first to hug him, “Happy birthday.”
“How does it feel to be 30?” Max asks teasingly.
Steve rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip, “It feels fine. Just get in the house, Mayfield.”
Max gives him a half hug on her way in before being ambushed by Dustin who attempts to lift her up. Nancy and Eddie hone in on Lucas, Eddie taking the gift nestled under his arm to a side table and Nancy pulling him in for a warm hug.
“Woah,” Max gawks at you. “You’re way too cool to be here for so many reasons,” she looks back at Steve. “Did you pay her to be here?”
“I didn’t pay her, Mayfield. She’s my girl– she’s a friend,” He doesn’t fight the smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s too soon to call you his girlfriend though it seems like you’d be okay with it. That fact is enough to make Steve’s day.
“Yeah right,” Max snorts.
“Steve and I are friends. I helped him make dinner,” you add in an attempt to satiate Max’s disbelief.
Dustin nearly knocks Lucas over when he turns, oblivious to the current conversation, “What’s for dinner?”
…
An argument over the last slice of cake was inevitable. But Steve hadn’t expected you to get in the middle of the debate.
“I have a way to settle this!” Your voice cuts through the noise instantaneously, every head at the table turning to you. “A co-star told me her family used to share sob stories and whoever had the best one was the one who ‘deserved’ the last brownie, slice of pizza, whatever. I thought it was weird but clearly you all need a deciding factor.”
For the first time all day, there’s silence in the house as everyone mulls over your proposal. Steve squeezes your hand under the table, you squeeze back twice, a soft smile growing on your face. Their stories have been solidified after years of lying, there can’t be much harm in it.
Steve decides to speak up, “I think we should try it.”
Nancy is the first to nod, her annoyance melting away as her girlfriend follows suit. Lucas is next, despite his clear stance on sharing the slice with Max, whose agreement is a little more reluctant. Eddie and Dustin, the ones who lobbied the most for the slice, are the only holdouts. Steve gives them a pointed look, hoping it will get them to stop being idiots and play along. Eddie raises his hands in the air, surrendering, “I concede. What do you say, Henderson?”
Dustin bristles, still bitter over his failure, but mimics Eddie’s gesture of surrender.
Steve only realizes how wrong this could go when Eddie starts to speak, “Well, I almost died during my third senior year after I was accused of being a serial killer and all I have to show for it are these gnarly scars,” he tugs down the collar of his t-shirt to reveal scarred skin. “And my music career fell through so I’m stuck in this shithole once again. Left to rely on pretty boy Harrington until I get things figured out.”
Curiosity, horror, and pure confusion fight in your expression. Eddie’s words have completely broken your measured demeanor. Steve can see all the questions bubbling up inside you, but you don’t voice them. He should’ve known his friends wouldn’t make this easy for him.
“Your turn,” Eddie nudges Dustin’s shoulder.
“Everyone thought I was a freak growing up because I don’t have collar bones,” Dustin stretches to demonstrate, something that will always confuse Steve no matter how hard he tries to understand Dustin’s condition. “So I got bullied a lot. I’ve almost died or watched people come close to dying more times than I can count. And my leg still isn’t the same after the Upsi— earthquake.”
Steve glances at you, praying you didn’t notice Dustin’s slip up. Luckily, any confusion has been replaced by a sort of pity. His stomach flips, they all sound insane but you seem more concerned than anything. It’s so different from Kristen’s reaction to mentions of the past. She would freeze up when the fucked up parts of him resurfaced. He couldn’t exactly blame her for it.
Lucas is up next, “There weren’t a lot of other black kids in Hawkins which made it hard to fit in. Even when I found friends, I still felt different. When I got older I fell in love with this beautiful girl,” Lucas looks at Max with all the affection in the world. “But her step brother tried to kill me because he thought we shouldn’t be together. I think he would have if Max and Steve hadn’t stepped in. It wasn’t until he died that I finally stopped being afraid.”
Steve wants to comfort Lucas the same way he did after that night with Billy. Lucas had been so young and scared, awkwardly asking Steve for hugs or advice when it all got to be too much. The kid had blamed himself for Steve’s injuries, even after Steve insisted that if he had known the outcome, he would’ve stepped in to protect Lucas anyway. It was the truth, no matter how much pain he went through, it was better than seeing Lucas, or Max, or Dustin, hell, any of the kids, hurt. Their lives now are proof that he was always the dispensable one. Steve hated to admit it, but most of the worries he held after that night evaporated when Billy died too.
Lucas gives Max a kiss on the cheek and the tension in her body dissolves, allowing her to share her story, “My mom married a piece of shit with a son who was almost as bad… when we moved to Hawkins he got worse then he died and things got hard. I almost died because of the earthquake. Was in a coma for eighteen months and had to do a shit ton of physical therapy to be able to walk again. My mom killed herself before I woke up so I had to live with Steve after everything was over,” The almost casual way she lists everything off makes Steve’s heart ache.
The look on your face reflects his pain. Do you regret your suggestion? It’s not like you could’ve known that you were having dinner with some of the most fucked up people in the world. You’d even told him that it was nice to be in a normal situation, unaware that he, his friends, and the town are anything but normal. Steve squeezes your hand again. His efforts to reassure you fail, judging from the glassy look in your eyes. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips drift down to your ear.
“They’re okay. It’s okay,” he whispers.
Your expression morphs into something Steve can’t quite read. Nancy begins her story, cutting off any chance to check in, her voice drawing your attention away from him.
“My best friend’s death was,” she clears her throat uncomfortably. “Part of a government coverup that I helped expose. I had a… hard time with relationships. I almost died, my mom almost died, my little sister went missing. There’s a lot,” the laugh that follows is strangled.
Robin’s hand slides over to Nancy’s thigh, gently caressing the exposed skin below her skirt.
Robin turns to you, “I don’t share this with everyone I meet but I remember seeing news stories, gossip pages, think pieces, pretty much every way you can receive information about you standing up for a lesbian co-star after she was outed and I just wanted to say that I find that really admirable; which is why I trust you enough to tell you that I’m a lesbian, something that I again don’t just tell anyone. It’s important to the misery that is my life I promise,” she shifts back to face the entire group. “My mother hated me, even more when she realized I wasn’t the girl she wanted me to be. I had hopeless crush after hopeless crush because I lived in middle-of-nowhere Indiana where people are very judgemental and the risk was way too high. Then I was working the night of the… mall fire. Things were just really bad here and made my life a lot harder.”
Your eyes are wide with surprise, lips pressed together into a thin line. Steve would chuckle if he wasn’t next on the chopping block. He’d been so tired of the fighting then focused on everyone else’s stories that he’d forgotten he’d have to tell his own.
Steve shifts in his chair, “Well, I lost some fights, got knocked on my head a ton. I had to quit the basketball team because of the thing with Max’s step brother. And uh… there was the mall fire, then the earthquake, then military quarantine. I had a fiancee but she broke things off…”
He stares at his empty plate, ignoring the churning in his stomach. Your hand reaches for his leg, caressing it gently in a gesture he hopes isn’t pity. This all makes him sound like a total loser.
“That was pathetic, birthday boy,” Eddie snorts. “We all spilled our guts and you did whatever that was.”
“No one told you to spill your guts, Munson. She just told you to tell a sob story. We’re doing this for a slice of shitty birthday cake. It doesn’t matter,” Steve scoffs, heat rising to his cheeks. Memories of his arguments with Kristen perforate his mind, the way she begged him to be more honest with her and complained that he was too closed off.
“Sob story kind of implies spilling your guts,” Eddie argues. Steve glares at him, daring Eddie to say another word. “I guess we’ll make a decision after your special guest shares her story,” he props his elbows up on the table, head cocked to the side.
“Me?” Your voice is an octave too high.
Eddie doesn’t respond, he just stares expectantly. Your unreadable expression hardens. Steve would do anything to decode it, to understand everything you’re thinking so he can save you from it.
“I– My entire life is on display for the world to see. Every choice I make is judged. People have insane expectations for my relationships, for my body. It all feels so impossible,” you pause, glancing over at Steve briefly before continuing. “It’s only going to get worse now that my ex leaked… photos of me. My manager told me to hide out here before it gets bad and I’m splashed on the cover of every tabloid but that’s not going to make it go away.”
The room goes quiet again. Steve is tempted to stab himself with the serving fork in the middle of the table. Your story was the nail in the coffin. How could someone do that to you? Steve would whisk you off to his room right then and there to give your body the respect it deserves. He isn’t much but he’s better than whatever Hollywood asshole you dated before.
“We should give Steve the last slice,” Robin proposes. “I mean it is his birthday.”
Dustin groans, “Technically his birthday was on Thursday.”
“Does it matter? It’s his birthday party,” Lucas retorts.
Dustin grumbles something under his breath, annoyance still palpable. Nancy slides the plate holding the coveted last slice of cake over to Steve. It looks even less appealing than it did when the argument broke out. And Steve hadn’t even wanted it then.
“Let’s just open presents.”
Max blinks at him, “Couldn’t you have said that like 15 minutes ago?”
The table erupts with a laughter Steve isn’t sure how to describe, it does little to ease the pit in his stomach.
…
Steve is more than ready to get you out of the house when Eddie gifts him a lacy pink lingerie and matching fuzzy pink handcuffs after instructing him to “save the best for last” all night long. But he has a few gifts of his own to give.
He pulls Lucas into the front hallway, the chatter from the living room seeping throughout the house. Steve fumbles through the items in his pocket until he grasps the rough wood of the bird he carved. He’d needed to do something with his hands and posters for a wood carving workshop plastered around town had given him the perfect opportunity. His carving skills are far from perfect but the little bird had instantly reminded him of his best friend. Steve tucks the bird into the front pocket of Robin’s bag before turning back to Lucas.
He slips an envelope out of his pocket, “I know you don’t need the money but my parents gave it to me and… I can’t use it. At least not yet,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
Lucas’s eyes widen when he opens the envelope, “Steve, this is way too much.”
“That’s my mom’s doing,” Steve chuckles. “Look, the certificate works at all the jeweler's locations including one just outside Los Angeles. It’s not a bad drive. Use it to get Max the ring she deserves and spend your money on whatever you need to propose.”
Lucas pulls Steve in for a hug, “Thanks, man.”
“It’s no problem.”
Glad to be of some use, Steve walks back into the living room with enough confidence to grab your hand. You barely notice, deep in conversation with Max.
Max, however, notices immediately, “Do you mind?”
The words aren’t said with the same snarkiness she had in her teen years. Their banter is worn after years of practice. Every insult overdone, any bite stripped away by their connection. Being around Max makes him glad that his parents never had another child. Not in the way that Dustin does, where he wonders if he would’ve exploded from the constant chatter and pressure of having someone looking up to him. But in a way that he couldn’t imagine a sibling filling the same hole in his heart that Max does, having her around beats having a biological brother or sister purely because they could never measure up to Max.
“I just want to get some fresh air with her. Show her the area.”
“There’s not much to see.”
“Mayfield,” Steve warns.
“Whatever,” Max shooes him away. “Bring her back when you’re done.”
“I’ll be back. We still need to finish talking about–”
Steve grabs your shoulder, spinning you around and guiding you toward the front door.
“Your friends are awesome,” you grin.
Any snarky remark he could make about his friend group melts on his tongue, “Yeah, they are,” he can’t cover up the wistfulness in his tone.
“Being away from them must be hard,” you reply once you’re on the front porch, hand still clutching his. “Other than Eddie.”
Steve nods, “Having Eddie around helps even though he can be… a lot.”
“He’s fun,” you laugh and the sound goes straight to Steve’s heart. “Did you two become friends because of the whole murder earthquake thing?”
“That and Dustin. He wanted us to be friends before either of us even wanted to be in the same room as each other.”
You stop midstep, “Nancy and Robin are dating, right? I didn’t want to ask even though Robin said she felt safe to tell me about that kind of thing. It felt weird to.”
“They’ve been together since ‘90. I think they would’ve gotten together sooner if Robin wasn’t worried about what I would think,” Steve tugs you along, smile growing. “Nancy and I dated in high school. I didn’t mind as long as they were both happy.”
“You really are a saint.”
He can’t help but laugh, “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” you smack his arm with little force. “Because you’re just a humble guy from Indiana.”
“Alright,” Steve snorts.
It doesn’t take long to reach to the destination Steve had in mind. The little park had been forgotten in the aftermath of the rift once the crater splitting it apart had been covered up. Fred Benson had died not too far from here, giving the people of Hawkins one less reason to visit.
“I come here to clear my head sometimes. No one comes over here anymore. It’s nice.”
You raise an eyebrow, “This looks like a shithole.”
“That’s because you haven’t gotten to the other side of the fence yet.”
Steve slots his feet and hands in the gaps of the fence, leveraging himself upward. There was a time where he could’ve gotten to the other side in five seconds flat, but age and injuries have slowed him down. The extra weight he’s put on certainly doesn’t help either.
“Stealthy like a ninja,” Steve murmurs, hoping the mantra will give him the strength he needs to not embarrass himself in front of you. “Stealthy like a ninja.”
“What?”
“Nothing. There’s just more moss. Makes the climb harder.”
“Are you sure you can get up there?”
“Yep,” he grunts. “Give me a second.”
“I can try,” you offer, clearly amused by his situation.
“I’m almost there,” just a little higher. “I’m stealthy like a ninja,” he wheezes.
“I don’t think you’re being very stealthy,” you call up to him. “And I definitely wouldn’t call you a ninja.”
Steve ignores you, hopping down on the other side of the fence with less flair than he would like. Stumbling a little in his attempt to stick the landing. You copy his movements, scaling the fence more easily than he did. Once you’re on the other side, he positions his hands on your waist for stability, helping you down. You leap back hard enough to send you both tumbling to the ground.
“You okay?” He pants, fingers still gripping your body as if holding you tight enough will fix any potential damage.
“I’m fine,” your body is pressed firmly on top of his, breath tickling his chin. “If only I had your ninja skills,” you giggle, burrowing your face in the fabric of his polo.
“Hey, I’m not the one who fell.”
“There was a bug,” your words come out muffled.
Steve cups your head in his hands, forcing you to look back up at him. When you do, he’s sure you can feel his heart surge. Pure, unadulterated want overtakes his mind.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.
“I get that a lot,” your nose brushes against his, lips ghosting over his skin.
The kiss that follows is filled with desperation and need. His hands drift down your body, cementing you on top of him; your hands pull at his hair tugging him even closer. He lets his lips explore yours, wanting to feel every sensation you have to offer. All the thoughts in his head melt away. Steve’s cock twitches as you rub against him, a soft moan escaping his lips before he can stop it. You smile against his lips, but don’t comment on how needy he clearly is.
You only pull away to catch your breath and Steve commits the moment to memory. It’s unreal. You’re unreal.
He’s annoyed when you turn your attention away from him to examine your surroundings, “This place is…”
“A work in progress, I know,” Steve smiles, fiddling with a strand of your hair. “I want to fix it up. It’s a nice spot, I promise.”
“Well, if you promise, it must be true,” your eyes glint under the setting June sun. Steve just pulls you back down for another kiss.
…
Steve feels like shit. If this happened on any other day, he would simply pop two of the painkillers he was prescribed then hide out in the bathroom with the lights off until the headache subsided. But today is supposed to be his first official date with you. He’d planned everything perfectly in the three days since he’s seen you. God, he wants to see you again. Hearing your voice over the phone isn’t enough, but the last thing he wants is to scare you off by coming across as more desperate than he already seems. The worst part is he’d tried to get dressed, to style his hair, and put on the cologne Nancy had gifted him for his birthday, yet his body still betrayed him. Aching from struggling to get his clothes on, the pain was blinding every time his hair snagged in the comb, and the smell of his cologne had made him so dizzy, he’d nearly vomited. It’s another reminder that he’s broken; forever unable to give you what you deserve.
His bedroom door creaks open, an unpleasant beam of light coming in through the crack, “Harrington, your girlfriend’s here. Should I send the princess away?”
“Eddie? What’s going on?”
Steve’s stomach drops, you sound upset. He glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Shit. How long were you sitting at Enzo’s alone waiting for him to show up? You deserved a call at the very least.
“Steve?” Heels clack against the hardwood. The bed groans as you sit down beside him. “Hey,” you brush the sweat plastered hair off his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” his voice shakes.
Instead of receiving the judgement and frustration he deserves, you just card your hands through his hair again and ask, “What do you need?”
Steve is taken aback, “Uh…” It feels wrong to ask you for anything after what he did. “Eddie can handle it. You should go home.”
“I’m not leaving you like this, Steve. Tell me what you need.”
He sighs, “Water,” Steve hands over the ice pack he’d tucked behind his head. “And fresh ice.”
You press a gentle kiss to his forehead before getting up to leave. Steve’s eyes linger on the way your dress hugs your body. He hates that he wasted your time. Hates that you feel like you have to play nurse for him. But he craves your presence more than anything.
Once your footsteps have receded, Eddie pops his head back through the doorway, “She’s a keeper,” then disappears without giving Steve a chance to respond.
It doesn’t take long for the sound of heeled footsteps to return. You shut the door behind you and plop back onto the bed. Heels are discarded and the icepack is slipped back under his neck. He takes slow slips as you hold the glass up to his lips as if you can tell that moving a limb is almost too much for him to bear. The helplessness drives him insane but after years of enduring these headaches, he knows the only way out is through, no matter how painful things get. You curl up beside him without asking any further questions. Stroking his hair, adjusting his blankets, kissing his cheeks and neck.
The only words Steve can muster come out in a disembodied haze, “I love you.”
…
“I’ve always wanted to travel to every state, eventually see the world,” Steve plays with your fingers, sliding from skin up to polished nail. “I actually went to Los Angeles with Lucas and Max once. We saw Julia Roberts through a store window. It was crazy.”
“You should come back to L.A. I’ll give you a personal tour of my favorite spots, and maybe you’ll see another celebrity.”
“I’m already looking at one,” his hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you close for a kiss.
“Julia Roberts is way more impressive,” you murmur.
Steve shakes his head, “I like this view more,” he tugs at your plush bottom lip, satisfaction filling his body.
You break the kiss and Steve longs to pull you back to him, “How do you feel about Canada?”
“Never been there. Why?”
“My next movie is filming in Vancouver. We could explore when I’m not on set,” your fingers graze his jawline.
“Yeah,” Steve pauses, not wanting to sound too eager. “That sounds nice. If you don’t mind me hanging around,” he jokes.
“You’ll make things more bearable. Apparently my co-star likes to ‘go method’,” you groan, following it up with a long swig of wine.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He’s going to pretend to be his character 24/7, even when we aren’t rolling. Actors do it to fully get in touch with the character, but it’s painful to deal with.”
Steve would go wherever you asked if it meant he could relieve some of your dread. Everything you share about your career makes it seem less and less glamorous than he’d imagined. You’d spent two days caring for him while his migraines took him out of commission, spending a few weeks immersed in your world couldn’t be that bad. It’s the least he could do, if you still want him when it’s time. Even Steve’s doubts aren’t enough to extinguish the small ember of hope burning in his chest. You could be the one. He takes another bite of chicken parmesan and tries to keep his focus on you instead of the bellowing businessmen a few tables down. One of the men says your name, causing you to freeze.
Steve squeezes your hand, “They’re not looking over here.”
His words are drowned out by the man’s voice, “She seems like the kind of woman you only spend a night with, if you know what I mean. Lucky she got into real movies.”
“Probably slept her way to the top,” another chimes in.
More laughter from the table. You bow your head, eyes glassy and distant. He’d made them shine moments ago, now all the light is replaced by a dull ache. Steve grits his teeth.
“I think she’d be better off in pornos. It’d make her more useful.”
The tension in Steve’s body snaps. He’s out of his seat before you can stop him, a fire burning through him.
“Steve! It’s fine,” you hiss. “Leave it alone.”
“You’re disgusting. All of you,” his breathing won’t slow, anger flooding his mind.
The man who’d made the porno comment laughs in his face, “Looks like we’ve got a feminist on our hands.”
The table erupts again. A hand presses against his lower back. The men's eyes widen, their expressions contorting with shock.
“Some of us would like to enjoy a nice dinner without hearing vulgar conversations,” you guide Steve back to your table, turning back to the men one final time. “Have a nice night.”
…
The tinny top forty station fills the silence on the drive back to your rental in Loch Nora. Steve keeps a steady hand on your thigh throughout the ride. The look on your face is the same every time he glances over. Unsure of what to say or do, he waits for you to make a move. Doing the wrong thing could be worse than not doing anything.
By the end of the drive, Steve is worried that he made the wrong choice. Should he have comforted you instead? What would he have said? Hey, I would spend every night of my life with you, I don’t think you’d be better off as a video star?
“I had a good night,” Steve tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.
“Me too.”
Steve gets out of the car and nearly bumps into the trunk on his way to open your door for you. Once you’re out, he scoops you into his arms, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck.
Your kisses travel up the side of his neck to just below his ear, you whisper, “Spend the night?”
“Of course,” he smiles against your skin, taking in the scent of your perfume.
The inside of the house you’re renting has the same cold feeling his childhood home did. There are minimal personal items or touches. It’s neat on an almost clinical level. Upstairs, more signs of you appear, calming Steve down as he looks over your belongings strewn across the floor.
You tug on Steve’s tie, holding it taut in your hand, guiding him down to his knees as you sit down on the edge of the bed. His heart races.
“Where do you want me?” He pushes your dress up your thighs, fingers inching under the elastic of your panties.
You bury your hands in his hair, drawing his head further between your legs. He tugs your underwear down, discarding them with ease. His hands settle on your thighs, gently pushing them apart. All Steve wants is to make you feel good. He slides his tongue between your folds, watching your reactions to see what makes your mind go blank. It’s what he’s good for.
You throw your head back and Steve’s tempted to kiss the exposed column of your neck. God, you’re the most incredible woman he’s ever met. He sucks at your bud, causing your back to arch. Steve has half a mind to climb onto the bed with you and slip himself inside to feel your body cling to his, but he has to hold out, to prolong your pleasure before satisfying his own.
“Steve,” your breath catches in your throat, his name coming out of your mouth as an unrestrained moan.
Steve’s cock throbs in his pants, begging for your attention. Fuck.
“I’m—” Your tone is laced with pleasure, giving him a high that he never wants to stop chasing.
When he pulls away, your hips buckle, “Use your words, honey.”
You shove his head back down without a response. Steve doesn’t hesitate to continue his work. His fingers dig into your thighs as he glides over your center with his tongue. He’s completely drunk on your taste now, thoughts dissolving as soon as they appear.
Steve laves up every drop of your release after you unravel. You throw yourself back onto the bed, breathing still heavy. Steve lies beside you once he’s done, reaching out to smooth your hair. His lips meet yours for a lazy kiss, your hands moving over his body without thought. Your fingers toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, undoing them one by one. The anticipation is going to drive him insane. He needs to feel you.
Steve jolts when you begin to trace his scars. He tries to forget about them, tries to ignore the way they’ve ruined his body. Are you disgusted by him? Under your touch, he’s frozen, fighting the tears pricking the back of his eyes. He should be over this.
You don’t recoil, lips trailing down his body to the scars marring his stomach. The kisses are featherlight against his damaged skin, traveling across every inch of it. As your lips travel across his skin, your fingers rest on top of the long, thin scars that cover his back; less noticeable than the ones on his stomach. You carefully remove his pants, then his boxers, letting your kisses move down his happy trail to the base of his cock. Steve slides back, grabbing a condom from a pocket of his pants. You help him slide the condom over his already leaking tip up his length, lips parted with surprise at his size. He pushes any thoughts that aren’t of you out of his mind as he positions himself above you, hands intertwining with yours.
Steve sinks down into you. Your body responds immediately, walls tightening around him as you mewl beneath him. He rolls his hips, rutting himself in further. Every muscle in his body tenses as you lean in for another languid kiss. His entire body is on fire, lust on full display.
“You don’t know wh… what you do to me,” he stammers. “Jesus Christ, baby.”
You stop him with a kiss, it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. Steve buries his head in your shoulder, your name dissolving on his lips. He tries his best to hold out, but he breaks. The noise that comes out is strangled, his release ending with his body collapsing on top of yours.
Your arms envelop him, “That was perfect,” you stroke his hair. “I love you so much. So much, Steve. I can barely describe it.”
He peers up at you, not bothering to hide his dopey smile, “I love you more.”
You shake your head, “Not possible.”
“Uh yeah, it is. I said I love you first.”
“When you were high on painkillers and in too much pain to think straight,” you correct. “That doesn’t count.”
“I meant it,” Steve’s lips tug at your neck, he wants to leave his mark. “I said it again before we walked into Enzo’s. I’m still first.”
“You’re an idiot,” you roll your eyes.
“I get that a lot,” he grins, all the pain leaving his body, replaced by the lightness that comes with being loved by you.
“Would it be okay if I stayed in Hawkins for a little longer?”
“How much longer?”
“I don’t know… I was only going to stay for a month, but this is the best I’ve felt in years. I’m not ready to go back.”
Steve kisses you again, letting his lips linger, “Stay forever.”
…
“You’re terrible at this,” you chuckle.
Steve keeps his attention focused on a target, “I have a great arm. Baseball coach, remember?” He gestures to the backwards snapback on his head, a little luck from his favorite cap seemed necessary after the way your first date ended. “Sometimes I just need a little warm up,” his bones crack a little too loudly as he rolls his shoulders.
You’ve got this, Harrington. The ball has to be deflated or something, there’s no way he’s gotten this out of practice since the season ended. He aims and… misses… again. There’s no way this isn’t rigged.
“Shit,” he grumbles, digging into his wallet for a handful of crumpled ones that he’d shoved in before leaving to pick you up.
The attendant takes the cash in exchange for another set of balls, he stares at you for a moment before going back to his stool.
“Can I try?” You hold a hand out expectantly.
Steve hands over one of the red plastic balls, watching as you aim at another one of the targets and completely miss. He can’t stop the laugh that slips out.
You furrow your eyebrows in frustration, “This has to be rigged.”
He nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and setting his head on your shoulder, “You wanna finish these off then find a ride?”
You take the remaining two balls and throw them carelessly at the targets. Steve kisses your cheek, softening your expression. He’ll win you a prize before the night’s over. Maybe one of the giant stuffed bunnies he’d seen at the basketball stall on the way in. You tug on his hand, leading him back into the crowd. The flashing lights make his head spin and the intense amount of red, white, and blue all over the fair is nauseating, but he’s determined to do this for you.
The Thunderbolt is your ride of choice, AC/DC blasting from the speakers. His thigh presses against yours in the ride car, sending a jolt through his body. Even after multiple nights, and mornings, in bed with you, the feeling of your skin against his is intoxicating. The ride moves faster than he expected, your hand grasps his as the speed picks up.
Once you’re off the ride, Steve uses your hand to keep himself steady. You cup his flushed cheek in your other hand, concern evident in your expression.
“Are you okay? I forgot about your migr—”
“I’m fine, honey,” he doesn’t want you to treat him like he’s fragile. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Let’s get funnel cake and sit down,” your thumb caresses the back of his hand in a circular motion, easing some of the tension.
You insist on paying for the funnel cake, fries, and lemonade in giant Fourth Of July themed cups, “Steve, I’m a millionaire.”
He groans, “At least let me pay you back, baby.”
“Nope,” the paper plate holding the funnel cake bends as you pick it up.
Steve grabs the lemonades and fries, scanning the area for an open picnic table. He leads you over to one of the white plastic tables tucked away next to an empty stand. You slide right in beside him, letting his arm slip around your waist, not minding how close you are. It’s something Steve used to be more aware of, never wanting to be the desperate, clingy boyfriend. But you always reciprocate his touch, leaning into it and even initiating. It feels good to be wanted again, but Steve can’t help but think about how long it will last. No matter what he does, his happiness is always temporary.
“This is delicious,” powdered sugar blows across the table as you speak.
Steve brushes the sugar off your lips with his thumb. Then sucks it off, staring into your eyes as he does. Your face lights up before you lean in for a sugary kiss.
…
The next week you disappear for hours only to show up at his door with a magazine in hand, “It’s official.”
You hand over the magazine, your face splashed on the cover with the headline: “Hollywood Starlet Says Bon Voyage! Here’s the scoop on her year long hiatus from the spotlight”
“I extended my lease on the house too,” you beams, eyes glowing with excitement.
Steve’s stomach churns, “That’s great.”
You’re excited, he should be excited too. But he can’t get over the fact that you put your life on hold for him. He’s too selfish to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.
“What’s wrong?” You stroke his mussed hair, fingers grazing his scalp.
Steve leans into your touch, “Nothing,” he pulls you in close. “I was just figuring out the best way to welcome you to Hawkins.”
“Sex?”
Steve smiles, shaking his head, “That comes after The Harrington Tour.”
It’s only until he gets in the car that he realizes he has no clue what the tour should be or where it should start. Instinct leads him back to his childhood home. The landscaping is the only thing that’s changed since the last time he’s been home.
“I grew up in this house,” Steve interlocks his fingers with yours. “My mom and dad still live here. Sometimes I’ll fix things up around the house for them but… things are complicated.”
“I’m sorry,” your voice is gentle.
“Don’t be,” he sighs. “I don’t know if my parents wanted kids when they had me. But I guess they felt like they had to.”
He’s trying to be honest with you. Kristen had hated him for hiding things from her, even though he knew she would hate the truth more. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you. To watch you leave because he’s never willing to give enough of himself over. Still, there are things he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to share. He can’t make light of his past or turn it into something positive like his friends can.
Your lips graze his forehead, “You have people in your life who want you around.”
“Yeah,” Steve tilts your chin up. Your hands thread through his hair as your lips interlock. Relief washes over his body. He leans into the kiss, letting himself feel you.
Your next stop is Hawkins Middle, “This is where I work,” he loops the car around the building. “It’s had a few upgrades since I was a student but it’s mostly the same. The science teacher and I convinced them to get new equipment for the kids to use.”
“That’s amazing,” you look away from the window, gaze full of admiration. “Could I make a donation? I helped fund a few arts programs back in Los Angeles, I know how much it can mean to the kids.”
“That would be great, honey,” Steve grins. “And you called me a saint.”
“I have the money to help, so I do,” you shrug.
His heart flutters, “I can’t take you inside the school, but there’s something else I want to show you,” he gets out to open the car door for you, holding your hand while he helps you out.
Steve guides you to the baseball field at the back of the school. He runs to the equipment shed to grab a bat and ball.
“Are you serious?”
“I’ll show you how to play. You’ll be fine.”
Reluctantly, you trail behind him to the home plate. He holds your waist, positioning you in front of him.
“You want your hands here,” Steve places your left hand on the bat. “And here,” he positions your right hand on the bat.
He can feel the sparks between you as he presses himself up against you, “Your hips should lead the hit, alright? Hips before hands.”
His hands move down your body slowly, cementing themselves on your hips. You let him adjust your hips, leaning back into him. When he’s done, his hands join yours on the bat.
“Let’s try this together,” he murmurs. “Loosen up and swing.”
Steve does most of the work with the swing. The kids he coaches have better form than you do. He chuckles, your face is still twisted in a mix of confusion.
“This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
Steve picks the ball up from the sand and stands a few feet in front of you, “Just try to hit this. Remember hips before hands.”
You completely miss the ball, hitting the air despite his efforts to make this as easy for you as possible.
“How do little kids do this?”
“With my help,” Steve rolls the ball between his hands. “You’ve got this, baby.”
He counts down before his next throw. To his surprise, and yours, the crack of the bat hitting the ball echoes throughout the empty field sending the ball flying to the edge of the diamond. Steve runs over, scooping you up into his arms.
“Atta girl.”
You tug his face to yours for an adrenaline fueled kiss. Your joy is infectious. Steve deepens the kiss, hands traveling to your hips to pull you closer.
“What’s next, coach?”
Steve decides Main Street is your next destination, he parks the car near the library and leads you to the shops lining the streets at the heart of Hawkins.
“A lot of the shop owners are getting older so I help out when I can. I change the marquee at The Hawk,” he points up to the theater, pushing memories of the reason he got to know the owner and how to change the marquee out of his mind. “If you want, we can see Independence Day together.”
“I’d like that,” you follow his gaze to the movie’s poster. “I love Bill Pullman.”
“Oh yeah, Spaceballs is a classic.”
“I was thinking While You Were Sleeping.”
Steve grimaces, “That movie gives me the creeps.”
“It’s romantic!”
“She pretends to be his fiancee while he’s in a coma only to fall in love with his brother. You can’t tell me that’s not weird.”
“Okay,” you pause. “But it’s a rom-com, you have to suspend a little disbelief.”
“I’ve seen a lot, I can believe a lot, but not that. No way.”
Steve stops at Melvald's, “This place used to have the best soda fountain,” he gestures to the back of the store.
As you wander around, he notices a box of brightly wrapped ring pops. He grabs one while you pick a Clearly Canadian from the fridge in the corner. Steve takes his wallet out before you approach the register in an attempt to prevent another argument over who should pay.
Outside the store, he crouches on the ground, pretending to tie his shoe. Steve presents the now unwrapped ring pop to you. You laugh, holding your left hand out so he can slip the ring on your finger.
“I love you,” the words catch in his throat.
You don’t seem to notice the way his voice faltered, “I love you too, Steve.”
Steve can’t stop himself from thinking about Kristen. He wasted her time; is that what he’s doing with you too? The thoughts get forced down, like they always do, the voice in his head begging him to let you go. Your smile pulls him out of it.
He stands up, offering a kiss on his way, “One more stop.”
Before taking you back to the car, he ends the tour at the library, “I practically lived here while I was working on my associate’s degree.”
You walk over to the pillar in front of the library, eyes scanning the list of names engraved into the metal, “All these people died during the earthquake?”
Steve swallows, “It destroyed the library, a ton of houses, everything was affected. No one had ever seen anything like it.”
He doesn’t say that it wasn’t an earthquake and that it affected him too. You heard enough from the others at dinner. Most people in Hawkins don’t question the government’s explanation, but you might.
“I thought you and your friends were just at the wrong place at the wrong time but this is awful.”
“Wrong place at the wrong time is a pretty good way to describe it,” Steve’s reply is dry.
“Is that how you got your scars?”
He stiffens, refusing to meet your gaze, “It doesn’t matter,” all you have to do is let it go and things will be fine.
“Steve, you can tell me.”
“I can’t,” he chokes out.
You pull him into a hug and Steve thinks his heart might explode. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.
Steve kisses the top of your head, “Let’s go home. I think it’s time for the post tour sex I promised,” he forces a smile, knowing this is the end.
…
It’s been three days since the night Steve left you. He’s been dodging your calls and ignoring the doorbell every time it rings just in case you’re on the other side. It’s selfish to do this to you but you’re both better off this way. You’re destined to be with someone incredible and he’s destined to be alone. After everything he’s been through, it was stupid to think he could be anything other than broken.
His bedroom door swings open, “Robin’s on the line,” Eddie chucks the phone onto the bed. “She’ll talk you out of this in no time.”
“Are you an idiot?” Robin shouts through the phone. “You know you’re my best friend and I love you more than anyone which is why I can’t let you give her up. She’s like the biggest catch in history.”
Steve groans, “Eddie told you everything?”
“He’s looking out for you, Steve. You’re making what might be the worst mistake of your life. I know you’re going to beat yourself up over it for the rest of your life if you don’t go back to her.”
“Rob, you don’t understand.”
“Well tell me everything.”
“I… you know how hard it is to explain everything we’ve been through,” he sighs. “You know it’s how I fucked things up with Kristen.”
“Steve…” Robin’s tone is softer now.
“It ended almost ten years ago, I should be over it by now. You’re all dealing with it and I’m not,” he fights the tears that have been clawing at him for days. “There’s something wrong with me and I can’t fix it.”
“There are things wrong with you, your taste in movies for starters, but that isn’t one of them. Nance and I still have to work through things. What we went through doesn’t just go away. I know you’re going to hate me for saying this, but you should start talking to someone. Go to Indy and use the money you make from coaching the little gremlins to find yourself someone who’s qualified to help you work through things. Because I’m certainly not qualified to help you in this situation and it’s crazy that Eddie thinks I am.”
Going to therapy was never something Steve really considered. It’s something that the others need more than he does. He’s been able to push through it all on his own without breaking the dozens of NDAs he signed.
“You really think it would help?”
“I do. So stop trying to be a man and help yourself,” Robin sounds more annoyed now. “I want to have an amazing sister-in-law.”
Steve snorts, “I left her after we had sex. I just ran out. Showing up with flowers and promising that I’ll see a shrin– therapist isn’t going to make her take me back.”
“Tell her the truth,” she states bluntly. “Get it all out there. If you do that and things don’t work, at least it isn’t a repeat of the whole Kristen situation. You need to stop repressing everything. Trust me, I’m an expert on repression.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes even though Robin can’t see. “I’ll think about it.”
“Steven, do it. I swear to God.”
…
After a trip to grab a bouquet of your favorite flowers, Steve thinks he’s ready. Okay, he’s definitely not ready to do anything other than puke on your lawn. He’s completely and utterly pathetic. Robin’s attempt at a pep talk was little help. The walls of his shitty life are collapsing on top of him and all the solutions are terrifying. Loving you made him feel more alive than he has in years, the thought of not getting it back… Steve doesn’t know if he can live his life without you in it anymore. Robin would tell him to tell you this with some comment about how it can’t be harder than the "colossal risk that is her love life.”
Getting to your front door uses up most of his willpower. Ringing the doorbell pushes him over the edge. The bouquet shakes in his hand, the stems on the verge of snapping from his grip.
“Steve? Are you alright?”
He abandoned you and you’re more worried than angry, “I– I’m so sorry, honey,” he shudders. “I’m sorry.”
You pull him in for a hug like it’s second nature. Holding him up when he doesn’t deserve it.
“You’re okay. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Come inside with me.”
Steve ends up on the couch with a glass of water in his hand, ice cubes bobbing at the top. Your hand rests on his knee, eyes watching him carefully.
“I don’t want to tell you any of this. Legally, I can’t but… losing you is worse than anything that could happen to me.”
“Is this about the earthquake that wasn’t actually an earthquake?”
“There’s a lot more,” he stops. “How did you know it wasn’t an earthquake?”
“I talked to this retired cop, Phil Callahan, at a bar the night after you left. He was drunk but there had to be some truth to everything he was saying about government secrets and quarantine and a bald girl with magic powers.”
“El is the girl with powers. Well really, her name is Jane but she likes to be called El. She was experimented on which is why she has crazy powers. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be alive and the world would’ve ended,” Steve cracks a small smile. “Honestly, I think the world ended back in ‘83 when I fought a monster.”
You blink, “Are you drunk?”
“I know how crazy this sounds but I have to tell you the truth. I can show you the redacted NDAs I have, I’ll call all my friends and have them vouch for me, I’ll even drive to Montauk so you can meet El and see that I’m not insane.”
His defense makes him sound more desperate and insane. He needs you to understand everything. The more he says, the easier it comes out. Spilling his guts is more freeing than he expected.
“I believe you, Steve,” you scooch closer to him. “Tell me what happened.”
“Seriously?”
You nod, “Nancy mentioned a government coverup that night at the party. All your stories about this town sounded almost as insane as what you’re telling me right now.”
Steve doesn’t hesitate to pull you in for a kiss. He tangles his body up with yours, holding you tight enough to make up for the time he wasted. His skin prickles under your touch, lighting up as your fingers trail from his jaw to the nape of his neck.
He only breaks the kiss to explain everything; Barb’s death, Dart, Billy, the Mind Flayer, the Russians, Vecna. You hold his hand through all of it. Listening no matter how absurd something like finding a secret Russian base under the mall sounds. Steve needs you to know everything, needs to exorcise every horrible experience out of his body so he can give himself over to you.
When he’s done, it feels like his insides have been hollowed out, “So that’s why I’m fucked up,” he sighs.
“I’ve met a lot of fucked up people and you’ve been through the most. I can barely process everything that’s happened to you. But you’ve handled it the best.”
“You think this,” he gestures to his tear stained face. “Is handling it well?”
“You’re not using it as an excuse or taking it out on other people,” your hold on his hand tightens. “You throw yourself into helping others and I love that about you. It made me feel less alone after what I went through before I came here.”
“You’re always safe with me, baby. What your ex did… it’s never going to happen again. Not with me,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “If you ever need to dump everything out on me, I’m here.”
“We can lean on each other,” you smile.
Steve isn’t ever going to heal from his experiences, Robin was right about that, but letting you in did the next best thing.
…
Two Years Later
Despite all the work Steve’s put in, the community garden is far from perfect. He walks down to the abandoned park every day to take care of the plants and make note of what still needs to be fixed. No matter how much you insist, Steve refuses to take money from you even if it means his progress is slower. The fundraiser he did with the baseball team only got him so far.
“Need any help?” Eddie calls out from behind him, cooler in hand. You’re not too far behind him with a grin on your face.
“Get over here, Ed.”
When you try to follow, Steve blocks your path.
“Let me help. He’s mostly useless,” you gesture to Eddie who’s shoving his rings in his pockets.
“I can hear you, princess!”
You just roll your eyes, “I can help. I’m only three months along.”
“Uh no. Lie down on the bench, there’s a cushion and a few books in the bag over there,” Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your engagement ring.
Fortunately, you relent, offering him a kiss before walking over to the bench he fixed up a couple months back. The Indiana sun beats down on the back of Steve’s neck as he crouches down in the grass to pull weeds.
“No, Munson,” Steve groans. “Use this,” he hands Eddie another tool from his tray. “You don’t want to disrupt the roots.”
After two hours of work, Steve joins you on the bench, using a hand to push his sweat soaked hair out of his face before resting it on your stomach. You look as beautiful as ever, sunlight bathing your skin like a goddess. Since you got pregnant, you’ve had a glow he can't get enough of. His life with you still feels like a dream come true. The only times you aren’t together are when you’re working, even then he’ll come to set to visit you.
You rest your head in Steve’s lap, “How’s the garden?”
“The spinach is ready, but I don’t trust Eddie to handle it.”
“Did he tell you about the deal I got him?”
Steve wipes the sweat off his forehead, “He won’t stop talking about it. Thanks for doing that for him. It means a lot.”
“The movie needed a music supervisor and his… unique music taste fit perfectly. All I did was vouch for him.”
Steve takes the book out of your hands, skimming the page you’re on, “Reading out loud is good for the baby.”
“There’s no way that’s true,” you laugh.
“It’s science. Henderson told me. Went on and on about it.”
“Alright,” you reach up, fingers grazing his jawline.
More focused on you than the book, Steve starts slowly. One hand holding the book, the other holding your stomach. He looks at you with all the reverence in the world. You’re carrying his child, you love him without question. Nothing could ever compare to the love he has for you. And for some reason you love him too; through nightmares and breakdowns, your love is unshakable. No matter how many times he tells you, it never feels like enough. His therapist says it’s because of how “emotionally distant” his parents were from him and each other. All Steve knows is that he would be miserable without you.
He stops mid-sentence, leaning down for a kiss, “I love you, honey.”