Chapter Text
Mid-November – 1984
Steve finds that he doesn’t mind the emptiness of his house as much when he stumbles in after getting out of his car.
He passes by the kitchen as he makes his way up the long flight of stairs towards the second floor, where he would come to later find his parents did in fact leave no note. Not that he would care when he did.
With Dustin’s worn but signature hat in hand, Steve’s clouded mind wanders as he makes his way down the sparsely decorated hallway towards his bedroom.
As he makes his way to sit on his bed, still unmade from a few nights previous, Steve sets Dustin’s hat on his empty nightstand. Besides the few posters he has on the walls and his red and blue bedsheets, Dustin’s hat stands out as the brightest thing in his room. Steve stares at it for a moment in wonder, his mind conjuring up images of the boy he just saw a few hours ago.
He wonders briefly when he’s going to be able to give it back to him. Probably should do it sooner rather than later, right? Dustin wears this thing all the time, it’s practically the thing people see first besides his curly hair. He must have realized it’s gone by now.
Steve glances at the clock on his wall, eyes squinting with some effort as he tries to read it. It’s only now around 9 AM.
The kids and adults must be up by now.
Steve thinks for a moment if they’ll speculate on his absence, but he shakes the thought almost immediately.
Nah.
The most important thing right now is getting Dustin’s hat back. Some part of his mind suggested earlier that Dustin probably had many of these hats, and that he probably wouldn’t be too upset to miss this one.
But then he remembers how worn the inside had felt in his fingers, suggesting many a use, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to ignore that, even despite his nervousness to see the little twerp again.
He thinks, in the back of his mind, about how most of the things in his house are clean and untouched. The fine china, the paint, the furniture. Even though things are checked for dust every time his parents are home, things just don’t feel used in this house. Steve thinks, not for the first time, that his house feels like a giant dollhouse, something to just look at and admire from afar or for short periods.
Worn things mean they’re loved by the person who uses them, so Steve makes the decision that he’s going to give this hat back as soon as possible. He couldn’t hold on to something the kid clearly loved because Steve was nervous to see him again.
Why was he even nervous? He wasn’t sure, but the queasiness in his stomach suggests as such.
Whatever. That’s a later Steve problem.
As he struggles to stay upright, more tired than he was willing to admit, he makes the unconscious decision to pass the hell out.
He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow.
~
By the time Steve was fully aware of his surroundings again, it was in the early hours of the next morning.
He had to stare at his clock for a moment longer than necessary, because the fact that his clock said 4AM made him question how much his body had actually needed the rest.
Holy shit. Is that normal when you get a concussion? He’s scared to know. Maybe it’s best that he doesn’t.
(Months later, he knew he would look back and be grateful for this good night of sleep.)
As he moves quietly through the house over the next few hours, he realizes (thankfully) that his head actually hurts minutely less than it did the day before. Maybe that’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but if Steve can actually think even a tiny bit easier, he’s going to celebrate it. His thoughts were all but mush yesterday.
He takes a glance at the calendar in the kitchen during one of his many boring walkthroughs and realizes it’s a school day for the kids. That is, if the kids even went to school today.
They probably rested all of yesterday, which was Sunday, so they would have hypothetically gone to school today. Mrs. Byers, being privy to all the weird-ass shit they’ve gone through, probably made Will stay home, which makes sense. And El isn’t even in school yet (does she want to be?), so Hopper definitely took her back to wherever they’re stationed. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure where they live at all, though that’s probably by Hopper’s design.
The other kid’s parents don’t know, so the chance of everyone else being at school is much higher, which means Dustin is as well. Technically, he should be in school too.
The thought makes him frown, eyebrows pinching.
Sure, he can understand the value of an education for these kids. They seem much brighter than he was at their age, that’s for sure. But they were exposed to some frankly terrifying things only a few nights ago, and Steve can’t help but think that it’s going to weigh on them for a while. But maybe they would want a sense of normalcy?
Steve isn’t sure, but he does know that he’s not going to feel normal for a long time.
As Steve eyes the kitchen clock, he makes a plan of action.
He’s going to get Dustin’s hat back to him this evening, sooner is better than later in his mind, just in case he’s missing the damn thing.
Or maybe Steve is overthinking it again. He’s been doing that a lot the past few nights.
He eyes the hat that he had placed on the kitchen island and hopes that giving it back is going to be worth it in any sense.
~
The sun is just barely still above the horizon at this point, painting the sky in a warm, hazy glow. Steve admires it from afar as he steps out of his house, hat secured under his arm. There are a few birds singing lazily in the distance in the woods surrounding his house.
Even though the car would be much easier in theory, Steve opts to walk to the Henderson’s. Driving a short distance in it while concussed is one thing. Driving through stoplights and around businesses in town with how his head is? Not as easy.
He’s fine with walking, he thinks. Though, maybe he should have dressed a little warmer. His breath forms clouds around his face as he starts to make the few mile trek to Dustin’s house.
He tries not to let his mind wander too far as he walks. Somewhere in the middle of the day, he had dozed off on the couch, despite the double digit hours of sleep he got earlier. Unlike that sleep though, it didn’t last long, and the blurry images of his dreams pulled him awake all too quickly.
He knew what he had dreamt about in those brief moments, he just didn't want to think about it.
He curls in on himself from the cold a little, recognizing buildings as he gets closer to town.
He gets a few strange looks from other teenagers sitting around outside of some of the stores, but for once, he pays them no mind.
Time passes in a blur, and it’s practically pitch black by the time he reaches the Henderson’s house. The windows are lit, warm and inviting, and Steve briefly aches to be enveloped in that warmth. But he’s here for one purpose. Give Henderson his hat back, check up on him, and walk back home.
(He really hopes Dustin doesn’t notice that he walked all the way here.)
Hand raised, he makes a few loud knocks on the door and waits, shuffling awkwardly.
There’s some clanging from inside, and he hears a voice from further inside the house.
“Dusty, dear! Could you get the door for me? My hands are busy with something.”
That must be Claudia. Steve had seen her in passing around town a few times but had never properly spoken to her.
“Yeah, I got it.” A familiar voice calls out, getting closer to the door with each word, gentle footsteps sounding. Steve hears the deadbolt being turned, and soon comes face to face with Dustin Henderson.
“Steve?” Dustin’s passive face when opening the door changes quickly into shock at the older teen standing in his doorway, who stares back at him, giving him a wave. Steve chuckles.
“Hey, man. Long time no see?” Steve notes that Dustin is wearing a different hat. It has the same shape, but the colors are completely different, and looks practically brand new. There was a few seconds of shocked silence, Steve seemingly rendering his young friend speechless.
“What the hell are you doing here?” That would have sounded rude out of anyone’s mouth, if not for the fact that Dustin’s expression morphs into one of pure, unrelenting joy and surprise. It was like Steve was the shining sun, and Dustin was seeing it for the first time in ages.
Steve finds himself a little at a loss for a moment, flabbergasted by Dustin’s happy expression, and even more so when Dustin moves forward quickly, wrapping Steve in a tight hug. It takes a second for his brain to scream at him to respond, and he hugs the younger boy back, maybe a tad awkwardly.
He literally said two sentences, and it was like he gave this kid the world. He has no idea what to do with this feeling.
Dustin pulls away after a few seconds, face still split in a semi-toothless grin, though confusion was prevalent in his eyes. Steve holds up the hat in Dustin’s line of view, and Dustin’s eyes spark in recognition.
“My hat! I’ve been looking for that! Where the hell–”
“You left it in my car, dipshit. Probably fell off your head when I shuffled you guys out of my car a few nights ago. I found it, and wanted to give it back to you. You’re practically attached to it like glue, so I thought you’d need it back.”
There was some good-natured teasing in that last bit, but Dustin seems even more happy somehow, if that’s possible. He takes it from Steve gingerly, and smiles up at him.
“Dude, thanks! Couldn’t find it yesterday and had to wear a replacement to school today. Pretty sure Max was poking fun at when she saw me first thing.” He grumbles lightly at that, but a smile comes back after a second, and Steve’s heart does something weird in his chest at the sight.
Steve decides then that bringing it back right away was the right call. It did mean as much to Dustin as he suspected it would.
“Sounds like Mayfield, alright,” Steve chuckles, giving Dustin a quick once over. “Speaking of which, how have you guys been holding–”
“Dusty? Honey, who’s at the door? You’ve been out here for a while.” Claudia Henderson comes from around the corner, looking mildly afraid that there was a strange person at the door that her son was conversing with, but her eyes spark in recognition and surprise at the sight of Steve. She blinks.
“Oh, hello dearie. You’re Danny’s kid aren’t you?” She asks with a polite, but confused smile. Dustin turns to look at him for conformation with an eyebrow raise, and Steve immediately feels under pressure. Something sharp and jaded pokes him in his chest at the mention of his father, but he covers it up with an easy-going smile, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.
“Yes, ma'am. My name’s Steve. It’s nice to meet you, hope your night has been well.” He smiles at her, and she holds her hand to her chest at his smooth politeness. Dustin gives him a look that seems to say, don’t sugarcoat my mom, dude. He ignores it.
“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you too, dear. What are you doing here? If that’s not too rude to ask.” She tilts her head, noticing right away how her son is physically pretty close to Steve and how he’s really smiling for the first time in a few days that she’s seen. Her heart soars at the thought that maybe her son made a friend outside of his current group that could act as a nice mentor for him.
Steve opens his mouth to respond swiftly, but Dustin beats him to it. He faces his mother with a smile, holding up his hat.
“Steve found this on the side of the road after I dropped it this weekend biking around. He came to give it back to me.”
Claudia’s heart melts a little.
“Aw, that’s so nice of him! Did you say thank you, Dusty? It’s rude not to be polite. And honestly,” she steps forward towards Steve and ushers him inside, Steve’s plan already taking a nosedive from being unexpectedly invited in. “You shouldn’t be biking so much now, it’s getting too cold again to be doing that.”
“Mom, it’s fine. I’m used to it being cold here.” Dustin complains and Steve finds himself struggling not to smile at Dustin rolling his eyes at his mother’s nagging. Steve honestly wishes his own mother paid half the attention that Claudia seems to.
“The school is a few miles away though, honey. That’s quite a trek every day. And Steve dearie,” she turns her scrutinizing attention to Steve now, who feels surprised and nervous to be stared down so intently, and she points her finger at him. “That jacket you’re wearing is much too thin, you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t wear warmer clothes.”
Steve laughs in confusion at being chastised, and Dustin gives him a look as if to say, she’s a lot, now you have to deal with it.
And Steve doesn’t understand why he has to deal with it, because he literally just met her 10 minutes ago.
Is this what mothers are supposed to do?
“I just grabbed the wrong one on the way out, I’m okay Mrs. Henderson.” He could feel Dustin’s scrutinizing eyes on him, which he promptly ignores again. She waves her hand dismissively at him.
“Call me Claudia, dear.” She retreats to the kitchen, further in the house. “Take off your shoes before walking on the carpet though, it’s pretty muddy out there now.”
Steve blinks, his plan to just get the hat back and leave already going out the window. “Oh, I should probably get going–”
“Nonsense! You came all the way across town to give my son back something belonging to him, the least I can do is offer you dinner.” He can hear her taking bowls and dishware out of cupboards and drawers.
Steve feels a little blindsided. Dustin turns to him with a smile that seemed just a tad bit smug.
“You heard the woman. Take your shoes off, Steve. You’re staying.” He grins, seeming a little excited at the prospect of Steve staying for dinner, and goes to get an extra set of plates and silverware for him.
Steve just stares in one place for a few seconds.
This was not part of the plan.
~
Dinner at the Henderson’s was…unexpected, but not at all unpleasant in Steve’s mind. Claudia had made spaghetti with homemade sauce and it made Steve want to start cooking meals for himself again. Though, he doubts he would be able to top this sauce.
Dustin’s mother worriedly inquires more than once during dinner about the remnants of the black eye on his face. Nancy had once left some of her makeup at his house around a year ago and he forgot to give it back, but he had no idea how to use it. So, in his effort to hide the extent of it, it still showed through. Dustin’s eyes found his briefly as Steve panics at those inquiries, and Steve reassures himself that Dustin was going to tell a lie to his mom about it.
However, that does not happen. In fact, Steve almost dies right there and then when Dustin starts animatedly talking about his confrontation with Billy, only leaving out the Upside Down stuff, and saying he actually won the fight.
“You should have seen him mom, it was crazy!” Dustin animatedly talks, spaghetti still haphazardly attached to his fork as he moves his arm around. “Billy stepped forward to rough up Lucas, and obviously he would have had to go through us first before that happened, but then BAM! Steve socked him so hard Billy fell like a pile of rocks. It was so sick!”
Steve doesn’t know whether to be touched or mortified. Dustin sounds genuine in the excitement of his recount, despite flubbing some major details, truly seeming to think what Steve did was cool. But Claudia was looking more and more horrified with each word out of her son’s mouth, passing glances between Steve and the frantic movement of Dustin’s messy fork many times. Her hand is raised towards her mouth in shock.
“My goodness,” she whispers, passing a horrified glance to Steve as he stares back at her with an awkward smile. “That sounds terrifying. I’m so glad you were there to protect my son from that…miscreant. Hopefully the police were called, he tried to hurt a child and beat up a teen. Did you get checked out at the hospital after that, dearie? That bruise still looks pretty nasty.”
“Yeah, Steve, did you?” Dustin piggybacks, and stares at Steve intently, not for the first time that evening, probably referring to the fact that he skedaddled from the Byers pretty quickly after shit went down. He attempts to kick Dustin under the table for basically ratting him out, but his legs don’t reach that far.
“Oh uh, yes ma’am, I just needed some bedrest is all.” He smiles at her stiffly, lying through his teeth. It wasn’t a very good lie though, because while Claudia seemed relieved, Dustin didn’t look convinced at all, and he gave Steve the best deadpan he could manage. If Steve were anywhere else, he would’ve laughed.
Dustin thankfully doesn’t call him out on his lie though.
“I’m all good, thank you for worrying though. And thank you for the food, it was lovely. I should be heading off though, my parents are probably wondering where I went.” Steve smiles warmly at Claudia, ignoring how that lie slips so easily in his tone. His parents wouldn’t be there, he knew that for certain. Dustin’s face falls a little in disappointment, and both of the others in the room notice.
“You’re leaving already? It’s barely been an hour.” Dustin tries to hide it, but Steve can hear how dejected he sounds and for some reason, it makes his chest squeeze painfully. He didn’t realize how much his time meant to the kid.
And so, Steve makes a quick decision that would come to haunt him for the next few years.
“I…could bring him home from school this week, so he doesn’t have to bike both ways. Since it’s getting cold, and what not.” Steve suggests, and Dustin’s surprised and then ecstatic expression makes him glad he did. Dustin turns to his mother expectantly, and Claudia actually looks thankful.
“Oh, that would be so nice of you, if it isn’t too much trouble. I just get so nervous with him biking everywhere in the winter months. I could pay you–”
Steve holds up his hand quietly to that, shaking his head. “There’s no need for that, I’m fine doing that. Wouldn’t want Dusty here to freeze his butt off, now would we?” He teases in Dustin’s direction, who looks frankly appalled at Steve using that nickname, muttering a quiet “what the actual hell”, but Steve can tell that he seems excited by the idea of Steve driving him around more.
So, he finds himself at the end of the evening with a tupperware of food, a damn scarf around his neck that he thinks belongs to Claudia, and a promise to bring Henderson home the following day after school.
He feels simultaneously pampered and scrutinized, though internally glad he made the trek here. He just hopes he won’t regret the decision to pick Dustin up this week.
With a warm smile and small side-hug from Dustin, who seems less than embarrassed about it, surprisingly, he makes his exit and starts the long journey home.
As he starts walking down the driveway, Dustin silently wonders while cleaning up why he doesn’t hear the rumbling of Steve’s BMW as he drives away.
~
Steve finds himself leaning against his car a little before the middle school was set to get out for the day.
He’s not sure why he made himself come a little early, though he attributes it to some kind of anxiety in his gut. He doesn’t admit that he thinks it’s because he didn’t want to accidentally make Dustin wait on him. If nothing else, he was going to be punctual.
His shades are practically glued to his face, the bright sun without them giving him the beginnings of a headache. It was a beautiful day, and yet the sun decides it wants to hate him in particular. His fingers itch for a cigarette to pass the time, but he told himself he was going to quit if he’s driving Dustin around more. Smoking outside of a busy middle school honestly made him look like a douche at the least and downright suspicious at most. He already got weird looks from a parent as he got out to just lean on his car.
Honestly, he probably shouldn’t be even driving his car, but his head feels fine, and he wasn’t going to let anyone down, even if he was the one who suggested this favor.
The final school bell rings in the distance, and it only takes a few minutes for kids to start exiting the building in waves. Dustin’s little ragtag group comes out in a clump towards the back, talking amongst themselves. Dustin spots him pretty quickly, his signature hat back on his head and he smiles excitedly at the sight of Steve.
“Steve!” He yells, bounding towards Steve in a run. The other kids pause their walking at the sight of Steve, and frankly look pretty confused. Max speedwalks forward pretty quickly, skateboard in hand, and the other kids follow suit. Dustin has reached Steve by this point, and hugs Steve tightly. A little embarrassed by the public display, he pats the kid on the back a few times, ruffling his curls with his hand over his hat. He tries to slap Steve’s hand away in retaliation.
“Harrington? The hell are you doing here?” Max looks perplexed as she approaches, turning her head to the side. Dustin has already shoved his bike from the bike rack in Steve’s semi-open trunk, throwing his backpack in the front seat like he owned the car. Dustin answers Max's question before he can.
“I’ve got myself a hot new ride, courtesy of this dude right here.” Dustin smirks, and Max scrunches her nose at that. The other kids have fully made their way over now. Max stares at Dustin for a moment, then scrutinizes Steve and he almost shies away from her eyes on him. Why do these kids have such withering stares? They’re like, what, thirteen?
“So you’ve made Harrington’s car and by extension, him, your bitch then. Sounds about right,” she states matter of factly and it takes all of Steve’s willpower not to both scold her language plus the insinuation and laugh at her bluntness. Lucas full-blown snorts in the background, and Mike smirks, which Steve clocks and scowls. Dustin rolls his eyes with a flip of his middle finger. Max stares at the empty back seat and purses her lips. “You got any more room in that? Billy is supposed to be here soon, but I’m more than sure he’ll be late, and honestly he drives like a bat out of hell.”
Steve initially opens his mouth to reject her question, considering he had only promised Dustin to take him back home, but it closes at that last bit. Despite the fact that Max threatened Billy to leave her and her friends alone (he somehow has vague memories of that), he’s not too sure he’s going to remain docile for long. Her being in the car alone with him admittedly makes him just a tad uneasy. So, he heavily sighs. “Fine. Understandable you don’t want to be driven around by a lunatic.”
Max smirks at that, dropping her skateboard off in his trunk. Dustin turns to him, appalled.
“You only promised my mom to bring me home, not Max’s mom.” Steve can see Dustin is practically pouting, and it’s a little funny in all honesty. Max gives Dustin her own middle finger at that. Steve ruffles his hat again to his annoyance. “Stop that!”
“Been a change of plans, squirt. Frankly, I don’t expect Hargrove to be punctual or drive any of you around safely, so there’s that,” he says resolutely, eying the other kids. They stand around awkwardly, staring at him. “You guys got rides?”
Mike shrugs, mumbling something about his mom. Will smiles slightly, saying Jonathon was going to be here soon. Steve may not be on the best terms with the other older boy, but he knew he should be punctual at least, and wouldn’t drive like a maniac. Lucas looks away before mumbling that his mom is supposed to pick him up, but may be late because she would be picking up his little sister. He looks hesitant about that, and Steve can’t exactly blame him.
From what little he’s heard about Erica, she was a little menace.
Steve sighs, and digs into his cupholder, pulling out a quarter. He flicks it in Lucas’s direction. “Go use that payphone to call your mom. Wouldn’t want you to have to deal with Erica’s wrath at all.”
Lucas chuckles at that, before heading to do just that. Will seems to spot Jonathan in the distance, so waves his friends (and Steve) goodbye with a gentle smile. Mike follows him, giving a wave to everyone but Steve, who he basically glares at. Or, maybe that’s just his normal face. Steve isn’t sure.
As Lucas situates himself in the backseat next to Max, who glances at his nervous smile with an eyebrow raise, Steve wonders how he got himself here. He definitely gave into demands too easily.
Steve adjusts his mirrors. “Seatbelts on, dipshits. And no eating in here, ever.”
Why was he insinuating he was going to do this again?
There’s some grumbling in the backseat from his orders, but they all comply. Dustin still looks a little pissed that his ride home with Steve got interrupted. Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, and allows Dustin free range of his radio and mixtapes in the glovebox as a way to appease him.
Dustin is much happier after that suggestion, talking animatedly with the kids in the backseat and Steve about one of their teachers being an asshole, as some sort of rock music plays over his speakers as he drives the kids home.
~
He dreams about the tunnels again.
He knew that after that horrible night a little over a week ago that he was going to be having nightmares. But they’re so much worse than the ones he had last year. Last year, it was just the one monster, with him, Jonathan, and Nancy.
But they’re different now. They’re darker, longer, harder to ignore. Something different always happens, something that drills it into his head that he failed this time and they all weren’t getting out alive.
It had been him the first few times, stuck in those dark and dirty tunnels, the stench of blood and viscera overwhelming as his guts were torn open bit by bit by an army of demadogs. He knew he was dead within the first few seconds, but every time the visceral screams of the kids above him and the violent sobbing of Dustin filled his ears anyways like a cacophony. He woke up most of those nights to vomit on the floor, crumbling in on himself.
He had a nightmare every night now, forcing him awake with a cry or scream each time at all hours of the night. 1AM, 2AM, midnight.
His arms are shaking as he holds himself over his kitchen sink, vomiting what remained of his dinner that he had a few hours previous. Everything felt too hot, too much, and Steve could barely hold himself up as something close to a sob came from his throat.
It had been Dustin this time.
Even though he had put himself between the kid and the mutaneous army like he did every time in every dream, one knocked past him this time, tearing into Dustin’s leg like it was nothing more than paper to it. Steve had tried, with bat and bare hands to separate them, but more and more came, and he couldn’t keep them at bay. It was only a few seconds until Dustin’s horrifying screams melted into something akin to bloody gurgles. Dustin had screamed for his help and Steve was powerless.
He felt like he was outside of his own body when he woke up from the couch and stumbled to the sink, puking his guts out and sobbing into it, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t real. It just couldn’t be.
But he couldn’t convince himself of that, not with his too frantic thoughts and too quiet house. He felt like he was going to suffocate if he didn’t get out right now.
He felt detached from himself, not dressed for it at all, but shuffling out into the cold anyways, eyes distant. He fumbles with his car keys as he retrieves something from his trunk, its familiar handle grounding him ever so slightly.
He knew he was going to look like a lunatic, but he just wanted to check, no, needed to check. He wouldn’t be able to fully reassure himself until he did.
So, he starts walking.
~
Dustin Henderson thought of himself as many things. Smart and astute were two of those things.
Which is why he found it strange and confusing that when he was working on homework in the early hours of the night, there was a soft, but persistent knock at his front door.
He glances at his clock on the wall, and the time of 9:47 glares back at him.
They shouldn’t be expecting any visitors this late. Knocks at the door this late usually meant something bad. There was a small amount of panic rising in his chest at the thought.
What if it’s an intruder? But an intruder wouldn’t knock at all, they would just break the hell in, wouldn’t they?
The knocking sounds again, and he nervously glances across the hall. His mom just went to bed, and he didn’t want her to wake up and freak her out if it was nothing. I mean, what if it’s just one of his friends?
Deciding it’s best to check first, he pulls his curtains back a little to see if he could see who’s at the door. Only a little though, he didn’t want to be spotted if it was an evil burglar.
He squints his eyes, the streetlamps a few paces away only helping so much. His face morphs into surprise and even more confusion as he recognizes the figure standing outside. His face is turned away as he seems to be shifting in place, shaking visible from all the way in Dustin’s window. But, that’s Steve’s hair alright. Dressed in pajamas and clutching his nail bat desperately, which makes the surprise Dustin feel bloom into concern pretty quickly.
Did he see some Upside Down shit and came here to warn him?
The thought alone was scary, and it splurges him into action, taking quick strides into the living room, and throwing open the door just as Steve was about to knock again. Dustin’s mouth opens to ask Steve if he had seen anything, when his eyes widen at his friend’s appearance.
He looks to be…in some sort of shock. His hazel eyes aren’t really focused in any one spot, looking off into the distance as if something terrifying was there staring back at him. He hasn’t lowered his hand from when he was going to knock, the action seeming to not register yet in Steve’s mind. It vaguely reminds Dustin of the look soldiers get after war, shell-shock or something like that. His concern for the Upside Down changes to worry for Steve as he notes his friend’s faint shakes. And if Dustin isn’t mistaken, and he wishes he was, there are faint traces of teartracks on Steve’s olive face.
What the hell happened?
“Steve? Hey buddy, what are you doing here?” Dustin whispers, gently grabbing Steve by the arm and pulling him inside out of the cold. Did he fucking walk here? His car was nowhere in sight and his arm is freezing. Steve seems to come back to himself a little at the sound of Dustin’s voice, and his unfocused gaze turns to Dustin’s. That’s a good sign, right?
“Thank god,” Steve whispers, and Dustin realizes that he seems to be talking to himself more than Dustin. His concern for Steve only grows. “Thank fucking god.”
Steve reaches up to ruffle Dustin’s hat, more gently than the previous times he’s done it, and Dustin doesn’t slap his hand away this time, realizing that Steve maybe needs this in some way. It doesn’t make him any less confused though. Steve must realize that this situation is weird as hell, because he blinks, and the ghost of a smile forms on his face.
“Sorry, I must be scaring you,” he pulls his hand away and Dustin doesn’t want to admit that he’s slightly right in his statement. “I just wanted to pop in and check on you, is all. Make sure you’re not causing any trouble.”
He laughs at that, but it sounds forced. Dustin only feels more confused. He glances at the living room wall, seeing it close to 10 PM.
“Steve, it’s almost 10, why wouldn’t I be okay? Did you think I just disappeared or something?” Dustin asks, a little incredulously, though realizes how bad that statement is when he thinks back to what happened to Will not too long ago, and the fact that Steve’s face seems to break down a little without his permission, confirming Dustin’s thought. Dustin’s heart sinks.
“Oh.”
He must have had a nightmare or something, right? It’s the only thing that could maybe cause this kind of reaction in someone as strong as Steve. Though, walking all the way here with his weapon of choice just to see if he was alright is a little extreme, isn’t it?
But maybe it was really, really bad.
Dustin is morbidly curious about what happened, violently so, but Steve seems practically haunted. Maybe it’s better if he distracts him? It’s too late to walk back to his house now. He just hopes his mom doesn’t get mad at him for an impromptu sleepover with a teen she’s met like, only 3 times.
Whatever. There are more important matters at hand.
He’s learned over the course of a week and a half that Steve is a good listener, and when he does give advice or input, it’s as well thought out as it can be. He appreciates someone who listens, since he catches even his friends tuning out his excessive rambles sometimes. But Steve always listens, even if he has no idea what he’s talking about. So, he does what he does best.
He talks.
He practically drags Steve into his bedroom where his unfinished homework still remains and sits Steve down on Dustin’s bed. Steve looks very out of place and surprised but hides it pretty quickly.
Dustin then finds himself talking. About the homework he’s doing, what they’ve been learning in school, about how Max has been more moody than usual, about Lucas not really knowing how to handle himself around Max, which Dustin finds gross, though Steve laughs. Dustin slightly smiles at that.
“Ahh, young love,” Steve murmurs as he leans back on his hands, some of the life coming back to his eyes much to Dustin’s delight. “So silly, so dramatic.”
“As if you’re one to talk,” Dustin mumbles as he absentmindedly works on his remaining problems, “You’re like the Queen of Drama, yelling at us all the time about getting mud in your precious car.”
“Hey!” Dustin feels a pillow thrown at his leg and Steve looks mildly offended. “That car is my baby, and it’s not dramatic to want to keep her safe from a group of miscreants like you twerps. You guys would destroy her without my watchful eye.”
Dustin rolls his eyes at Steve literally proving his point. “We would not. You’d have our asses on pikes if we even got close to that point.”
Steve laughs at that, and Dustin feels a tiny bit of pride in his chest. “Jesus, Henderson. That’s morbid as shit. But… damn straight.”
Steve is almost back to his normal easygoing self by the time midnight rolls around. Dustin haphazardly made him a bed on the very worn couch in the living room, and Steve couldn’t refuse even though a small part of him probably wanted to. Steve was observant, if nothing else, and could see Dustin’s idea of distracting him instead of forcing him to talk, which he found himself grateful for.
Steve looking less scared meant that his plan was a success, in Dustin’s head at least.
He ends up watching Steve as he sleeps for a minute before he turns in himself. He debates with himself about disturbing him, before deciding to go for it.
“Steve?” He whispers into the dark of the living room. There’s some light shuffling.
“Mmm?” Steve mumbles. Dustin messes with the hem of his shirt, feeling a little uncertain.
“If you uh, ever feel like talking about your nightmare, or anything really, I’m here I guess.”
Steve is quiet for a moment, and Dustin fears he may have fallen back asleep, but Steve mumbles back, less sleepy sounding now.
“Night, Henderson.”
Dustin supposes that’s the best he’s going to get out of him for now.
“Night, dipshit.”
~
Steve finds himself huddled over the kitchen sink again.
It had only been a few nights since his previous nightmare, where he found himself in the same position, shaking and close to tears, gripping the sides of the sink desperately. His mind had decided to plague his every thought again.
Something had to change soon, because if they didn’t, Steve felt like he was going to lose himself completely.
He still felt residual embarrassment after his actions a few nights ago. Leaving the house in the middle of the night, walking across town with just his sleeping clothes on, scaring a kid with his sudden appearance and later that kid’s mother as well? God, his body flushes with shame just thinking about it.
Dustin shouldn’t have had to deal with Steve’s issues. The kid has plenty of his own and he wasn’t even fourteen yet. Not that Steve wasn’t grateful for Dustin distracting him from his worry and not questioning him too much despite probably and very clearly wanting to. He thanked the kid before he left after all.
But still. It was the principle of the thing, and Steve should be dealing with his own issues like the adult he was. Young adult? He had to find another way to reassure himself the kids were alright and make sure he didn’t actually scare any of them like that again. He can deal with this, he just had a moment of weakness.
Can he actually deal with this? A tiny voice speaks in his head as he still finds himself clinging to the sink, and he realizes that regardless of his honest answer to that question, he’s gonna have to make do anyways.
Which is why he finds himself standing in front of his stove at close to 1 in the morning thirty minutes later, cooking a grilled cheese like his life was dependent on it.
Growing up, when his mother was around a little more often, she used to cook for him. She would always use these faded looking cookbooks in the back of the pantry, and Steve would always marvel at them, wondering what they contained. She would cook all sorts of things, like stews, soups, and colorful desserts. He silently always wanted to learn and would read those cookbooks in secret sometimes.
After his mother started going with his dad on business trips though, she cooked less and less. It had been such a motherly gesture, and Steve hated how there was a tiny hole in his heart when it was no longer around. He started trying to cook those meals himself, but it was never the same.
Takeout and TV Dinners became his go-to after a while.
But now he found himself here, having something that could keep him distracted after nightmares, regardless of whether he was actually hungry or not. He was doing something with his restless body.
He was going to go through every single one of those cookbooks (once he had more ingredients to do so), if it was the last thing he’ll ever do. It beats worrying the kids and crying most nights.
There was a soft “thump” of something heavy being dropped in the grass outside his front door, and Steve looks up in alarm. He carefully turns the heat of his stove off, listening carefully as some frantic sounding footsteps run up his sidewalk.
What the…
Steve is about to make a fast grab for the set of kitchen knives not far from his shaky hands but stops short when his doorbell rings. It’s not a knock. It’s a strong, and piercing noise, one that Steve frankly always hated. The loud sound reverberates throughout the bottom floor, and Steve thinks that whoever this was wanted to be heard.
Steve’s thoughts are answered pretty quickly, as he hears the muffled voice of Dustin from beyond the door.
“Steve? Steve, are you there? Open the door asshole!”
Steve would have been irritated by Dustin’s word choice if not for the fact that he sounds like he’s two seconds away from bursting into tears. The sound pierces his heart like glass, and he quickly strides over to open the door.
Dustin’s blue eyes are wide and teary, signature hat missing and brown curls askew, and that sight alone makes Steve let him in immediately. Steve spots Dustin’s bike laying haphazardly in his lawn, one of the wheels still spinning slightly.
At least he didn’t walk here. Though that’s not really much better when it’s this late at night.
Steve doesn’t really need to guess what caused him to come here, as he’s seen Dustin’s expression on his own face many times in the past few weeks. But, it felt wrong on the young boy’s face. The terrified look in Dustin’s eyes made him seem five years younger, and Steve couldn’t scold the kid for biking all the way out here even if he wanted to.
Steve feels the faded band tee he wore to bed get damp as Dustin wraps his arms around his midsection. Steve’s right hand finds purchase in Dustin’s curls in what he hopes is a comforting gesture, the other wrapping around the kid to pull him close. Dustin’s shoulders are shaking as he weeps, and the sound was heartbreaking to Steve in every sense of the word.
“I thought–” Dustin’s throat bears another sob. “I thought that you–that was the last time I was going to see you. It felt so real–and you were right there, but I couldn’t do anything! I promise, I promise you I tried to–”
Dustin coughs, his throat getting clogged with tears, and Steve holds him tighter against him.
“I know,” Steve whispers into Dustin’s curls, rubbing his back as soothingly as he could. “I’m sure you did, kid. It’s okay.”
Dustin shakes his head against Steve’s chest with a whine as if to protest, but doesn’t say anything to that, only gripping Steve tighter in response.
They stay like that for a good few minutes, and when they separate, Dustin’s face is red and blotchy. The sight makes Steve’s heart hurt.
“Come on kid,” Steve whispers, and he gently guides Dustin to the kitchen, where the remnants of his grilled cheese remain. The lights were off when he was initially cooking, but he turns on a few lights for the kid’s sake, letting Dustin sit at a chair at the island. He remains silent, save for a few sniffles, which is so uncharacteristic of him that Steve feels like he’s viewing someone completely different. Dustin’s eyes are turned down towards the counter and Steve wonders what he should say to help him, even if it’s just a little. He didn’t seem in the mood to talk though, and he already gave the poor kid a hug.
Steve opens his mouth to ask if Dustin was hungry, but decides against it. He has to remake his sandwich anyways, because it’s turned cold. Might as well just make another. Maybe Dustin just didn’t want to say anything, but would maybe eat something.
Dustin’s head turns up a little in surprise at the sounds of Steve cooking, eyeing him curiously as he takes out multiple kinds of cheese from the fridge, and slices of fresh sourdough. He’s pretty sure he sees four types of cheese sitting on that counter. Who has that much cheese?
Steve catches him staring, and smiles at the curious look in Dustin’s eyes. That’s much better than a terrified one any day. “What cheese do you want?”
Dustin blinks at the question, looking a tad unsure. “I think I’ve only had them with cheddar.”
It comes out in a raspy whisper, but he’s talking, and Steve will take it.
“Oh, you're missing out Henderson.” Steve smiles at the boy and holds up the bags of cheese after buttering his pan. “Cheddar, mozzarella, colby, and swiss. The Quad. Best grilled cheese sandwiches on the planet.”
A small smile forms on Dustin’s face at hearing how overly confident Steve definitely sounds.
“I’ll be the judge of that. You’ll know straight away if it’s ass though. That’s a lot of cheese, man.”
“I’d trust no one else’s judgement more,” it comes out jokingly out of Steve’s mouth, but it also has an undertone of truth that Dustin doesn’t miss. “Though, if you hate it, then you’re insulting the entire Harrington family name, so hopefully you can handle that guilt.”
Steve can practically hear Dustin roll his eyes, but the huff that comes out after sounds close to a laugh, so Steve is thankful.
The smell of toasted bread and melting cheese fills the air around them, and the longer it cooks, the more Dustin seems to be on the edge of his seat. Steve chuckles.
“Hold your damn horses, it’s almost done.” Steve muses, standing tall to reach up and grab a few plates from one of the cabinets. Dustin seems slightly embarrassed at being caught looking so excited for a grilled cheese, but only briefly. Because it smells good, okay?
Steve brings over a plate after that, the creation sitting atop it in all its cheesy glory. It looks so good that Dustin almost forgets he was crying just a bit ago. Almost.
Steve nibbles on his absentmindedly, watching Dustin’s expression from the corner of his eye. When the kid takes a bite, his eyes are blown wide, and that signature Dustin smile forms on his lips.
Steve tries to shove down the feeling of pride rising in him at the sight.
“Holy shit, dude!” Dustin practically yells and turns to him, eyes wide in awe. “This is fucking awesome! When were you going to tell me you’re such a good cook?”
Steve preens under the compliment, but shrugs, looking away.
“It’s nothing spectacular, really. It’ll come as a surprise to you for sure, but I actually get bored sometimes,” Steve smiles as Dustin seems to want to laugh. “I know, shocker. So, I just kinda… taught myself.”
Dustin seems to be in food heaven as he speaks with his mouth full. “Dude, you should open a restaurant. You’re like the second coming of culinary Jesus.”
Steve practically chokes, letting out a full-blown snort. Dustin smiles at him goofily, seeming proud at making him laugh so hard.
Steve cleans up the kitchen as Dustin finishes eating. Dustin eyes him as he works, watching him glide through the kitchen like he was in his natural habitat. It was strange seeing Steve so fluent in something, but it wasn’t unwelcome.
It just makes the nightmare he had only a few hours ago push that much harder on his mind. In it, Steve was ripped violently away from him. But here he is now, moving around with purpose like nothing could phase him. But he knows that things do, like how terrified he looked only a few nights ago at his house. It’s like he’s starting to see all the different sides of Steve now, peeling back layers bit by bit like an onion.
Dustin is surprisingly grateful for it. He gets to see the guy who’s become a strange sort of friend to him in all sorts of lights now. Like a Steve-shaped kaleidoscope.
“Steve?”
Steve turns from where he’s washing one of the dishes in the sink, glancing over at him.
“Yeah?”
Dustin wants to tell him what he saw during his nightmare. Wants to explain that he couldn’t rest until he knew that he hadn’t been ripped away in the night. That he understands why Steve came all the way across town to see him to make sure he was okay. That he’s thankful he was up when he biked here and thankful for the grilled cheese, and the hug he gave him. Just glad that he’s okay.
But it’s 3AM, and Dustin just had a terrifying nightmare, and biked across town at full speed, and he was full of amazing food, but he was tired. So, he hopes he can say at least some of his thoughts, with a firm, smile-filled, “Thanks for opening that door, dipshit.”
And Dustin thinks Steve does understand, because the smile on his face reaches his eyes, and he huffs out a chuckle. “Anytime, kid.”
Even though Dustin is going to be chastised by his mom in the morning and will feel exhausted at school in less than five hours, he knows he’ll be glad he came all the way here tonight. Because Steve was safe and sound.
And if he gets to gloat about Steve’s culinary skills to his friends tomorrow? Well, that’s just an awesome bonus.