Chapter Text
“You know what’s one of the weirdest parts of this whole thing?” Robin asked, flipping through Steve’s collection of tapes as they pulled out of the Harrington’s driveway.
Steve snorted. “The whole thing’s fuckin’ weird, Robs. But sure, what?”
“You’re going to be living with Jonathan Byers - like, beat your face in, stole your girl, fought the end of the world twice with Jonathan Byers.” Steve winced as one of her hands smacked his shoulder mid-gesture. “Seriously, have you guys even talked about any of that?”
“Absolutely the fuck not,” Steve shot back. He ran a hand through his hair, considering Robin’s words. “You think I should, don’t you.”
“You’re about to share a house with the guy, dingus.” Robin rolled her eyes, finally selecting a tape. She popped it into the deck, continuing, “I’m just saying, it’s bound to get incredibly uncomfortable if the two of you don’t clear the air.”
The problem was, she wasn’t wrong.
ABBA started blasting through the speakers, interrupting Steve’s train of thought. He grinned at Robin, who cackled maniacally. Rolling down the windows, the two of them scream-sang their way through Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! as Steve drove them back to the Byers’ home.
His home. Fuck.
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Steve pulled into the driveway, surprised to see Will sitting out on the porch. He was surrounded by pieces of paper, a few books, and a whole load of colored pencils. He glanced up, smiling as he clocked Steve and Robin through the windshield. The wave he gave was enthusiastic, if a little bit shy.
Robin groaned. “He’s precious. No teenager has the right to be that precious.”
Steve agreed wholeheartedly.
“Come on,” he sighed, cutting the engine. “There’s a chance I get interrogated, and I want you as back up.”
“Because that worked so well the first time,” Robin noted. Steve flipped her off as he exited the car, ignoring her giggles.
“You know, Steve,” Will called out, “the amount of times that you’ve scolded us for language is a little too high considering the amount you swear in front of us.”
Robin’s giggling grew into full on cackles.
“I will repeat,” Steve yelled back, grabbing his duffle out of the trunk, “I’m an adult. Therefore, I can swear as I see fit.”
“But think of the example you set for the children!” Will grinned at him.
Robin had tears streaming down her face at this point.
Steve sighed. One day, he’d be able to go a full twenty-four hours without anyone ripping the shit out of him.
Today was not that day.
He gently patted Robin on the back as she caught her breath. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m a hypocrite.” Leaving her to grab the bags of food, he went to join Will on the porch. “Anyone else home, Will?”
Will nodded, smiling up at Steve. “Jonathan’s in his room. Mom had to go run some errands, said that she’d be back in a couple of hours.”
“Sounds good.” Steve ruffled Will’s hair, wincing internally at the horrendous bowl cut. Give me some scissors and some mousse and I’ll change this kid’s life, I swear to God.
“Baby Byers,” Robin saluted as she climbed the stairs.
“Hi, Robin.” Will shrunk back a bit into the porch, smile dimming just a touch. It made something in Steve’s rib cage ache.
Robin nudged him. “Let’s put these away, dingus.” She seemed to recognize Will’s need for space. Steve fucking loved her.
They made their way inside, Robin immediately opening every cabinet door in the kitchen in order to find the best place for the food. Steve dropped the duffle on the couch, wincing as it banged his side on the way down. He hadn’t lied to Will and Jonathan, the bruises had gotten better. He was just also pretty certain that at least two of his ribs were cracked. Nothing he could really do about it, though.
Jonathan appeared in the door as Robin and Steve were getting into an argument about where to put the ketchup.
“It belongs in the fridge, dumbass, not the pantry.”
“Steve, you ignorant slut, no one likes cold ketchup!”
Steve spluttered as Robin continued on her tirade. “Ketchup only goes on hot things like French fries and hamburgers, why the hell would you want to put something cold on something that you’re supposed to eat warm, it doesn’t make any goddamn sense -”
“Mom keeps it in the fridge so it stays good longer.” Jonathan’s interjection immediately silenced their bickering, looking over to where he stood. He crossed his arms, uncomfortable with the attention. “Although, your reasons make a lot more sense, Robin.”
Robin immediately pointed the ketchup bottle at Jonathan in victory. “Thank you.”
Steve threw his hands in the air. “Considering that this is Joyce’s kitchen, I’m going to follow her rules.” He triumphantly grabbed the bottle from Robin, ignoring her protests as he popped it in the fridge. Turning back, he caught Robin in the middle of a grand gesture, pointing at Steve. He glanced at Jonathan, who quickly looked away. Narrowing his eyes, Steve sighed at the sudden tension in the room.
Why did he always have to be the adult?
“Hey, Jonathan . . . can we talk, man?”
Jonathan’s gaze snapped forward to meet Steve’s. His eyes were cautious, if not a little curious. “Yeah, we probably should.”
“As much as I would like to mediate what no doubt is going to be an illuminating conversation,” Robin started, backing towards the door, “I’m gonna go hang out with Will.”
Jonathan snorted, amused. “Ask him about his new DnD campaign. That’ll get him talking.”
Robin nodded, shooting Steve a not-so-subtle thumbs up on her way out.
The air was so thick Steve was pretty sure he’d need a hatchet to slice it.
“Do you want some coffee?” Steve blurted out, unable to stand the silence.
“Sure,” Jonathan said. He took a seat at the table as Steve puttered around the kitchen. He could feel Jonathan’s eyes on the back of his neck, but at least now he had something to do with his hands.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about, don’t we.”
Steve heard Jonathan’s soft snort behind him. “Understatement of the year, dude. I honestly don’t even know where to start.”
Wincing, Steve grabbed two mugs from the shelf. “Maybe just . . . from the beginning?”
“‘A very good place to start.’”
“Will got you to watch The Sound of Music too, right?”
“He’s learning how to use his puppy dog eyes and it’s incredibly effective,” Jonathan defended.
Steve laughed softly, turning back to the table. He steeled himself, taking a breath, before looking Jonathan dead in the eye.
“I’m sorry. For being a douchebag in high school. For being a douchebag to you in high school. For that fight -” Steve winced, looking down at his hands. “I never should have said what I said about your family. Will. You. It was so fucking out of line and I only said it because I was so angry and I -” he looked back up. Jonathan’s eyes were wide, but he was still listening attentively. “Fuck, man, I’m just sorry.”
Jonathan nodded slowly, processing his words. Steve turned back to finish the coffee and give him a minute.
“You know,” Jonathan started, “I’ve noticed that you’re not the same guy you used to be in high school. I haven’t smoked enough weed that I’ve lost all my brain cells.” He smiled slightly as Steve laughed. “But I guess I never understood . . . why? And part of me -” He stopped.
Frowning, Steve turned back to him, coffees in hand. “What?” he asked, placing the mugs down and taking a seat at the table.
Jonathan wrapped his hands around the mug, taking a deep breath. “Part of me always thought you were doing things to try and win Nancy back,” he said in a rush. “Babysitting the kids, letting them eat all the ice cream samples, chauffeuring them everywhere. It was just so - it wasn’t King Steve, and I know that’s high school bullshit, but it didn’t make sense with everything I already knew about you, you know?” If he clocked Steve’s flinch at the word bullshit, he didn’t let it show.
“And then,” Jonathan continued, “Starcourt happened.” He looked Steve dead in the eye. “And I don’t know what happened to you under there, but I know that you kept Dustin and Erica safe. And it definitely wasn’t for Nancy.”
Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Look, Nancy and I - we’re completely done, dude. Like, I’ll always love her, you know? But us together . . . it wasn’t good for either of us.” He gestured at Jonathan. “You’re way better for her than I ever was.”
Jonathan smiled. “Thanks, man.” He finally took a sip of the coffee, then looked at Steve with a furrow between his brows. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”
Steve shrugged. “Paid attention.” He sipped on his own, drumming his fingers on the table. “You know, for the longest time, I genuinely thought that Nancy had cheated on me. And I know -” he held up a hand as Jonathan tried to protest, “I know now that you didn’t. But that shit hurt, man.”
It was Jonathan’s turn to wince. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it. But I swear on Will’s life, Steve, I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know, man.” Steve smiled at him, before pointing an accusing finger. “I don’t apologize for the camera thing, though. Those pictures were creepy as fuck.”
“Fuck, yeah, no, that’s on me.” Jonathan’s face flushed a deep red. “Don’t even know what went through my head there.”
“Honestly, same.” Steve shook his head. “You did beat the shit out of me though, so, we’re even in terms of damage.”
Jonathan laughed, “Dude, you barely fought back, it wasn’t that hard.”
“I’m athletic, but I’ll be honest, I’d never been in a real fight before that,” Steve confided. “Dustin makes fun of me all the time for never winning fights, but I literally had to go out and learn how to throw a real punch after that first one.”
“Where’d you learn?” Jonathan asked, eyebrows raising.
Steve grimaced. “I may have gone through a . . . phase. Got in more than my fair share of fights. Tommy H wasn’t exactly easy to drop.”
“Jesus Christ, dude,” Jonathan murmured. He shook his head before glancing back at Steve. “So . . . are we okay?”
Steve smiled and held out his hand for Jonathan to shake. “We’re okay.”
“Cool.” Jonathan stood up, draining his coffee. “If you’ve got some time, do you wanna smoke? I was gonna light one up before Mom comes home.”
“I’ll raincheck,” Steve said, rising as well. “Robin hates the smell, I’ll get a lecture if she so much as catches a whiff of it.”
Jonathan snorted. “You’re doing a shit job of convincing people you’re not dating, dude.” Steve flipped him off as he laughed, making his way back towards his room.
Well. That could’ve been way worse.