Dad!Steddie With A Little Boy Means So Much To Me.

Dad!Steddie with a little boy means so much to me.

Steve plays catch with him in the front yard as Eddie watches his favorite boys from the porch.

Eddie let’s him ride on his shoulders everywhere they go.

Eddie teaches him how to play guitar.

Steve lifts him up to help him shoot a basket into the net.

Eddie throws him into the air and he lets out a little squeal.

They all play tag and airplane together and he has way too many toy trains and cars (he also definitely has a doll and a teddy bear that he begs to sleep with every night)

Eddie is thrilled when he’s old enough and asks if he can teach him DND.

Steve spends a lot of time with him in the kitchen teaching him how to bake and cook actual meals.

They’re the dads they never had but always wanted.

Mama Ricci Knows Best (last chapter)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

"I don't understand why you two won't just date already."

They're pulling up into the small driveway of the home Steve's known for most of his life. The miniscule beige bungalow is significantly less impressive than the white walls that had trapped him for the earlier parts of his childhood. Once upon a time this place had only been one that he longed to visit every holiday. Those days seem like a distant memory now, compared with the new ones he'd created actually living there.

Mama Ricci is still going as she eases herself into the loveseat at the edge of the living room. Steve's trying his hardest not to make eye contact, because as much as he'd been prepared for this, well it's still a little hard to reel his ego back when she's this insistent. To say the confessions that are already sitting at the tip of his tongue.

"I'm old, not blind, I can see he clearly likes you. And you've been into him since the first day you saw him."

Steve's hand freezes where it'd been sifting through a small pile of mail. There's a defensive bunch to his shoulders as the smug voice in her tone registers into the most competitive, pettiest parts of his brain. 

"Well I wouldn't say that." He lies, and the look of utter disbelief Mama Ricci sends him is enough to push the confessions down his throat.

"What? he's an attractive and decently nice guy but that still doesn't mean I automatically want to date him." It sounds like bullshit even to his own ears, but still the sarcastic laugh it earns him brings a flood of warmth to his cheeks.

"Oh please. I knew from the start that you'd like my Eddie, but you should have seen yourself when you two first met. I've never been more right about anything." 

And there are 2 things Steve Harrington absolutely cannot stand. 1, being wrong about the things he's usually an expert at, and 2, being mocked for it. He was already dead wrong about Mama Ricci having no chance in finding a guy he'd actually like, but now that she was clearly intent on letting him never forget it? There was no way he was going to admit to it, no matter how close he'd come to doing so just seconds ago.

"Fine." He says, shoulders relaxing as he feels his signature stubbornness slide into place.

"If you end up being right and something does happen between us, I'll let you know."

"We absolutely cannot let her know."

Eddie looks up, brows dipping into a furrow of confusion as a quiet 'huh?' falls past his lips. He's struggling to slip into a pair of tight jeans, wriggling around on the bed in a way that should look far too stupid to be attractive. Yet every part of Steve wants to wrap his arms and legs around the dumbass and never let go. 

They'd exchanged numbers the next visit after Mama Ricci's little intervention ploy. Getting each other's numbers turned into days of consistent texting, entailing a shit ton of shameless flirting–a lot of which made whatever the hell Steve had been feeling for the guy, settle into something significantly warmer and rose scented. Something that wished for permanence instead of the mere satisfaction of a good lay.

Eddie wasn't just a great guy, he was full on amazing. Funny and smart in that quick and witty way that always has Steve smiling to himself. By all accounts Eddie's also one hell of a strange dude, Steve knows he's an over dramatic person himself, but doubts he'll ever find anyone with as much of a dramatic flare and chaotic lack of predictability as the metalhead. Not to mention he was a total nerd. Gosh there'd be times they'd be talking and Steve swears he'd only understand a solid 10% of whatever Eddie's saying. But he never minds listening to it, or reading over texts that has him googling more words and references than he's willing to admit.

The nighttime hours Steve usually spent browsing his media pages and wasting away on his guilty pleasure shows, were quickly replaced with Eddie. Still they mostly danced around their blatant interest in each other, didn't bother to define whatever the hell they were doing.

Until 2 nights ago when Eddie had invited him to watch a gig at one of the bars he plays at.

As if Steve was supposed to watch the guy jump around a smokey stage dripping sweat and sex appeal and just keep his hands to himself after.

Pff. Yeah right.

So here they were, cooped inside Eddie's small, crowded but unbelievably cozy room the morning after, half dazed by the fuzziness of sleep and the lingering sensations of the night before.

"We can't tell my grandmother that we're.." Steve tries to find the words, momentarily distracted by a stretch of ink that slowly disappears under the black fabric Eddie pulls over his head. When his head pops out from under the T-shirt's collar, Eddie has an eyebrow raised, clearly interested in whatever definition Steve might give to their current standing.

"Together…?" He words it as a question and Steve forces down the sudden apprehension boiling in his stomach as he stares down to fidget with the strings of his borrowed sweatpants.

"If you're okay with that."

The silence that follows does nothing to ease his screaming nerves, and for a second he wonders if he'd read their entire dynamic wrong. 

Now wouldn't that just be embarrassing?

But a scratchy laugh breaks into his doubts, and Eddie sounds a mixture of shocked and relieved when he speaks

"Shit, yeah– yeah I'm okay with that." He wheezes out, and when Steve looks up he feels instantly relieved by the wide grin on Eddie's face. "Probably should have wined and dined you first but..I like the sound of together. Like a lot."

There's no way Steve doesn't look like an idiot with how wide his lips are stretched, but considering the far more compromising expressions he's shown in the last few hours alone, it can't be that bad. 

"But what's this about not telling Mama Ricci?" 

The question is enough to reach past his giddiness, and Steve readjusts his seated position so he's fully facing Eddie. They're a little short on time since Eddie had scored a meeting last night with an agent impressed by the band's performance– which was deserved because Metal fan or not, the energy at the show had been nothing short of electric. They'd agreed to meet up quickly for coffee in about an hour for further details before Eddie had to head off for a shift at the record store he worked at.

Busy guy. Hardworking, just like Mama Ricci had said all those days back when Steve had been so sure that whoever Eddie was couldn't be that impressive. Ugh. He hated how right Mama Ricci was.

"She really can't know. It's one thing that she was totally right about you being my type" Eddie places a hand on his chest and lets out a comically loud 'awe' that Steve chooses to ignore. "But she'll never let me live it down if she finds out I got with you this fast after all the fuss I made." 

Eddie looks very clearly amused at first, but when Steve narrows his eyes and lets out a very pointed "She can't know." The expression slowly morphs into..guilt?

Which, wait? Why would Eddie look guilty?

"Eds." 

Suddenly the ceiling seems a little too interesting to the metal-head, and the panic that fills Steve is instantaneous.

"Dude." He repeats, and it must sound serious enough because it's what finally makes Eddie crack. 

"Okay fine! She knows. I told her, but in my defense I didn't know we were supposed to be keeping this a secret."

And Steve has to gape because between the handful of times Eddie's been at the restaurant after they'd exchanged numbers, and the fact that this is technically part of their first out of shop and out of text hangout, he can't think of when the guy would have had the time to rat. 

"When did you even- how??" It's not the most eloquent version of the question Steve can come up with, but Eddie seems to understand. At least if the way he cringes into himself is any indication.

"After the day we spoke out back she texted me–" 

"She has your number??" Steve pretends his voice doesn't crack slightly because exactly how many steps ahead of him had this woman been? Eddie on the other hand seems equally surprised, but more so at the fact that Steve himself didn't already know.

"Well yeah, had it since like the third time I came in. She sends me recipes for stuff and like… coupons and shit." There's fondness in Eddie's tone despite the casual nature of his words, and Steve's caught between cooing at just how close the two apparently are and gasping with offense because what the heck, Mama Ricci never sends him coupons. 

"Anyways, she texted me and asked if I had your number yet. I said no and she very subtly hinted that I should get it next time I came in." Steve can already imagine the absolute lack of subtlety that conversation must have had, but he lets Eddie continue.

"I asked for your number and we started talking so that was great."

The memory of Mama Ricci's voice rings loudly in Steve's ears.

"I don't understand why you two won't just date already."

He and Eddie had already been talking pretty consistently since then. She definitely knew about it and had the audacity– and surprisingly, the skill– to play dumb. Oh he hates her so so much.

"Then she kind of huh, suggested I ask you to see me play at the bar."

Steve almost chokes, eyes going comically wide. He lets out a loud disbelieving laugh and falls back on the bed, bringing an arm over to cover his face because oh the shame.

"Heyy, It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Eddie tries to console him, and Steve just has to wrench his hand back to stare incredulously at him. He's embarrassed yeah but this man can't be serious right now.

"It's nothing to be– dude! you should be embarrassed. My grandmother was literally your entire game."

And the deep flush that settles on Eddie's face shouldn't be nearly as satisfying as it is. But it's well and deserved because he can't be the only one suffering out of this. There's a second of incoherent stuttering and strange arm gestures before Eddie sputters out a defensive "Listen- I'm not the best at this, I needed all the help I could get okay?" 

Steve groans, turns to press his face into the freshly changed sheets. It's enough to throw his mind back to last night, when he'd been pressed against the sheet in a pretty similar manner. The thought alone makes him groan louder.

"Can't believe I just got laid because of my grandmother." 

Eddie's laughter is sharp and does very little to alleviate his internal embarrassment, but it sounds nice, reminds Steve that at least he's getting a precious boyfriend out of this.

Eddie drops him off, even gives him hand a little squeeze that is meant to be reassuring. As if Steve's suffering isn't a direct product of his existence. The little shit.

Steve knows Mama Ricci will be home because apart from the shop and the supermarket she hardly ever leaves the house, and the pantry's been stocked for days while the shop doesn't open for another few hours.

What he doesn't expect to find is the old woman seated against the nearest couch, arms resting neatly on her lap like she's been awaiting his return (which is likely the case in light of the recent revelations). It's not like it's the first time he's ever returned at this time since highschool, if anything this type of behavior is nothing if not expected from him. But there's a cheeky smile on her face when she sees him, and Steve has to will every bone in his body not to turn around and walk right back out.

"Morning." He says dryly. Mama Ricci's grin widens.

"Nice shirt." She remarks and Steve purposefully does not stare down at the band tee Eddie had lent him. He also does not grace the comment with a response, simply slips his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen. In seconds alone, he hears shuffling steps joining him.

"What happened to telling me if something happened between you two."

And oh the smugness dripping from her tone. Steve knows his entire face is red by now, but he forces it to remain expressionless. When she still doesn't get a proper reaction, Mama Ricci makes a sound. It's the quiet, ominous hum that means she's searching for the most impactual words to use as weapons. It doesn't take her long to find them.

"The bar was Robin's idea you know."

Steve's swears he's going to snap his neck by the end of the day with all the bomb being dropped on him. Mama Ricci laughs, clearly satisfied with herself, and Steve knows he must look ridiculous trying to glare at her through his shock.

"What? You bother her 24/7 with your pining and think she wouldn't get tired of it eventually?" 

He's going to kill Robin Buckly. He'll burn her stash of lesbian celebrity merch and then kill her.

"I hate you both, so much." Steve hisses, and because the universe hates him so, it's at that moment that a quiet ping vibrates against his leg. He pulls his phone out from the pocket of his– no, Eddie's sweats, and on the phone screen is a single text message that reads

'So. How was metalhead dick?'

Steve unlocks his phone and blocks Roobies Boobies from his contact list. 

Of course he has no choice but to unblock Robin after because as fake angry as he is, there's no one else he can rant to about his new probably soon to be rockstar boyfriend who's just as sweet and dorky as he is amazing in bed.

As was predicted, Mama Ricci is absolutely unbearable about the new development. Every date and anniversary is met with a reminder of 'don't forget who got you two together', every holiday is a new day to be remined of how easily they'd played into her hands. Heck even when he and Eddie fight, their issues are always resolved with at least one 'don't undo all my hardwork' sneaked in there somewhere.

But Steve learns to let it go. To give that one significant win to her because if he's being real, it's kind of the best thing that ever happens to him.

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@maya-custodios-dionach @newtstabber @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @electrick-marionnett @trikigirl271 @yes-im-your-mom @justanothergirlwithobsessions @mars-the-witch @moviebuff90 @misguideadghosts @raisedbylibrarians @henderdads @gay-stranger-things @kozuuji @gregre369 @trikigirl271 @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @commonxsenss @m-owo-n @adaed5 @iwouldsail @original-cypher @estrellami-1 @punctualhowell @straight4joekeery

sometimes you just have to. just have to stand in a ray of light and be warm for a minute

rb to protect prev from burnout

based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

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