Chapter Text
As expected Steve didn't sleep well that night. No bat to keep him company, no guns under the pillow, no conversations with his imaginary gang (He is pretty sure he would end up in a straitjacket if he got caught by Singer) and there's only so much breathing exercises Steve could do before he loses his shit. So Steve spent the night staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks and thinking back to the good old days. These days Steve spent more time in the past than he did in the present.
When he did finally start to doze off the sun came up and Bobby, it is clear from the noises downstairs at the crack of dawn that he is an early riser.
Sigh.
Steve is face down on the pillow. Doing everything he can to shut the day out. What time was it anyway? He glances at the clock.
5am!
Steve didn't have a problem getting up early, the early hours start is part of being a teacher but 5am? Really? Surely an extra hour couldn't hurt.
His nose then twitches as something wafts up his nostrils.
Bacon.
His eyes fly open.
On second thought, screw that extra hour.
Steve goes through the morning routine. Almost falling out of the tub when the freezing cold water blasted his skin. He cursed so loud he probably ruined the birds' morning song.
At least the shower was insect free and despite almost freezing to death Steve managed to take his sweet ass time in doing his hair. Steve never misses a day when it comes to his hair. It's his trademark. It could be the end of the world and Steve will still ensure he had two golf ball-sized amounts of mousse on his head. It used to be four puffs of Farrah Fawcett hairspray but it got discontinued. Nine years down the line Steve still grieves that bottle of greatness.
Robin teased him endlessly for it.
"You gotta let your hair down dingus. Loosen up a little."
To Steve that is easier said than done. Growing up in the Harrington household image was everything. Steve was taught to look perfect. He was taught to fit in.
Oh Mom and Dad if you can see me now.
He is still pissed off about last night. Losing his shit in front of Bobby but Steve swears it is not going to happen again.
"New day Steve." He smooths his sweater down. And checks himself out in the mirror. "Fresh start."
"You got this bud." Dustin gives him two thumbs up.
Steve snorted.
He wished he could muster the same level of enthusiasm.
It's your damm head Steve. You already are!
Right.
Fair point.
Soon Steve makes his way down the stairs. The smell of bacon pulling him. He finds Bobby in the kitchen making a bacon sandwich and a cup of coffee.
"Morning." Steve says brightly.
Bobby glances at him, grunts then focuses back on his food.
Steve's smile turns strained as he looks round. The tension is suffocating him.
He sighs.
He may as well clear the air first.
"Listen…" He swallows. "...about yesterday…"
"Don't worry about it."
Steve blinks.
Bobby gives him another glance.
"What's done is done."
Another blink.
Steve wasn't ready to drop this yet.
"I…I just want to say I'm not like that. You…threw me okay? I didn't think I was gonna come into a water fight and be forced to hand over all my stuff."
"Its procedure."
"Yeah well a little heads up beforehand would have been nice."
The older hunter slices his sandwich. Steve twitches nervously.
Another sigh then follows.
Steve's shoulders slump.
"I'm sorry."
Bobby this time really looks at him.
Steve forces himself to not look down.
"It won't happen again." He adds.
Bobby stares at him for several moments. Then silently he turns back, picks his plate and mug up and walks past him into the other room.
Steve's jaw clenches tight. He has never known someone to frustrate him so much. He can never tell what the old hunter is thinking. He is like a puzzle he can't solve.
It takes Steve several moments to realize there is no sandwich for him. Pan is empty, bread is put away, no plate is left out for him, no mug either.
Steve stares with disbelief.
Bobby Singer is a terrible host.
Steve looks in the other room where Bobby is sitting eating his sandwich while making notes. Steve stares helplessly until the old man finally looks up.
"What?" Bobby frowns.
Steve's eyes go on Bobby's sandwich then back at his face.
Bobby raises an eyebrow.
"You're joking right?"
Steve said nothing.
Bobby sits back. The other eyebrow is now up.
"Don't tell me you thought I was cooking for you?"
Steve's mouth opens then shuts.
"What are you? Five?" Bobby adds.
"You are the host." Steve points out sheepishly. "And I'm the gu…"
Bobby gave him a look. Daring him to finish that sentence.
"Kid this ain't a hotel."
"I know."
It's just courtesy. Steve thought.
"You want food? Make your own." Bobby gestures "You know where the kitchen is."
He then returns to his notes.
That's the end of that.
Steve faces the kitchen.
Rude He thought.
Yet his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.
Steve shuffles over to the counter, gets the bread out and places it in the toaster. He twists his hands together as he waits for the bread to pop out. Once it's done he spreads the butter on it.
Toast can't go wrong with that.
Steve pours himself a coffee and takes a large sip. Desperately needing that caffeine boost.
He will probably need three cups of these to wake himself up.
Steve joins the hunter in the other room. He sits on the couch and quietly eats his toast as he watches the other man work.
"So…" Steve speaks after several moments. "What's the plan for today?"
Bobby doesn't look up.
"Research." He waves his hand in the direction where the piles of books are. "You are gonna read and cross reference every single one of em."
Steve almost drops his mug at those words.
"All…All of them." Steve eyes the books. There's enough here to fill a whole library.
"From top to bottom." Bobby replies with a nod.
Steve stands up and goes over to the books. He picks one out and…
Holy shit.
There's got to be hundreds if not thousands of pages in here.
That's just one book!
No. Fuck this.
"The thing is…" Steve explains. "I umm…I'm more of a hands-on type of learner. I learn through experience. This…reading it's umm not for me."
Bobby puts his pen down.
He immediately looks displeased.
"You go in blind." Bobby says. "That gets ya killed. Research is one of the most important aspects to hunting. Knowledge is power. Without it, you're a goner."
"I know that." Steve replies. Irritated. "But this…come on you have to admit this is excessive."
"It's necessary." Bobby pauses. "It's important."
"After that night I did some research. I read some books…"
"Let me guess from the library?" Bobby shakes his head. "That doesn't count. These.." He points at his collection. "Are one of a kind. You don't get books like these anywhere. They have everything in there you need to know about monsters, ghosts, demons, witches, all of em."
He leans forward on the desk.
"You wanna be a hunter kid? This is where you start. It is boring as Hell but it keeps you alive."
"Look I get it. I really do but there's no way in Hell you can remember all that."
"You highlight the important points, cross reference it, categorize it into sections, break it all down." Bobby frowns. "You're a teacher, you should know that."
Steve bites his lip. That's the thing he wasn't a teacher. Not really. He wasn't smart and qualified like the others. He is just a coach and the sex education? He got that based on experience. His lifetime achievement on not getting anyone up the duff. Big congrats there buddy.
Steve does plan, he does think things through, he is good with strategy on the field but when it comes to the academic side of things that's where Steve faltered.
His friends thrived in that area. The kids got their answers from a damm game, Nancy is a journalist so research is one of her greatest strengths and even Robin outshone him on several occasions. Whenever they had the group discussions Steve felt like an outsider. Witnessing the ideas bouncing back and fourth yet having no clue what half of it even meant.
School was bad. Steve struggled immensely with the work. Constant low grades, falling behind in many classes and teachers always getting frustrated with him. Steve didn't mean to. He tried, he really did but the overload of information was hard to process. He simply zoned out as a result.
His Dad's reaction was the worst.
"After everything we have done for you." Richard slams the result paper down on the table making Steve flinch. "And this is how you repay us?"
Steve can only look down in shame.
His Dad shakes his head. Disgust clear on his face.
"Sometimes I wonder why I bother." He stands to his full height, arms folded tight. "You obviously lack ambition. You don't care about your future."
Steve looks up.
"Dad."
"You fucked up Steven." His Dad's jaw tightens. "You are gonna keep fucking up because that's who you are."
He scoffs loudly.
"You certainly ain't my son."
"Steve?"
Steve blinks.
Bobby is waiting for a response.
"Uh right umm yeah." Steve nods. "You know what you're right." Steve holds the book tight to his chest. "I'll get started on it. Sooner I start, sooner I finish right." He forces a laugh.
Bobby tilts his head. He had that questioning look in his eyes again. The one where he is trying to figure Steve out.
Steve is still trying to figure himself out.
"Help yourself." Bobby gestures to the papers, post- it notes and pens.
Steve's smile is tight as he takes the offered items.
"Warning." Bobby adds. "If you try anything? Shortcuts, skipping stuff I will know and I will make you redo the whole damm thing again."
Steve again laughs well, more like a squeak than a laugh.
"Got it."
He goes back on the couch and opens the first page.
The words are immediately daunting.
He sighs.
This is going to take forever.
Steve feels like he is back to being that kid again. Desperate to please, desperate to get it right, desperate to not be a failure.
Pathetic right?
He is a full grown man he thought he was past this bullshit but turns out he hasn't. He is still trapped in those vines (Not pun intended) all tangled around him, pulling him down under the water (Again not pun intended) taking him all the way to the bottom, slowly suffocating him and drowning him. He tries so hard to claw his way out of it but when he does, it causes it to tighten its hold on him, strangling him until he can't breathe (Okay he really needs to stop comparing his current life crisis to the times he almost died) Overall what he is trying to say is no matter how many times he tries to put his problems behind him, insist he is fine and move on with his life he ends up getting dragged right back into it.
The impact is like a punch to the face. With their voices mocking him.
I'm still here asshole.
Can't get rid of me that easily.
Rather than confronting it Steve just pushes it back down again until the next time it rears its ugly head.
Steve places the post-it note down with the words wendigo on it. He writes silver underneath it.
Monsters sure hate silver alright.
Steve sits back on his knees. He stares aimlessly at the notes he has made so far. So far not much. He still had five hundred pages of this book to go plus the other thousand of them sitting on the shelves and floor.
He groans.
This is torture.
Steve has been tortured in the past so that's saying something.
Bobby is outside in the garage working on a car. His other job. The job where he gets his income from. They haven't spoken since Bobby gave him this task.
Steve's stomach rumbles. He grits his teeth. He missed lunch and it's coming on to dinner now. Singer will cook for himself while Steve will have to pop out and grab takeout because Steve cannot cook.
He didn't want to admit that to Bobby at breakfast. It's embarrassing. Steve grew up in a household alone eating nothing but takeout and ready meals. As a result he couldn't cook. When he started working at the school Steve swore he would learn to cook. He planned to take up cooking classes and treat himself to meals he never got to have when he was a kid and host dinner parties whenever his friends came over.
Unfortunately work hours took up too much time and Steve never got around to accomplishing that task. Instead he carried on the same diet from childhood. Takeout, ready meals and snacks. Sometimes he missed dinner altogether and dived straight in the bottle.
The clock chimes and he hears Bobby come in. Steve peeks into the kitchen and sees Bobby emptying spaghetti out into a pot then filling it with water. He then opens the oven, slips on oven gloves and pulls what looks like meat sauce out.
Steve's breath catches at the sight. He remembers how much he wanted to eat that after trying it around his friend's house when he was about six. He begged his mom to make it for him but as usual she didn't have the time. That day she left him several boxes of frozen pizza and told him to stick that on.
They never had the time for him. Not emotionally anyway. Days when they were present for some reason the house felt more empty than ever.
"Oh Steve." Robin lies on the couch looking down at him. "You are a hot mess."
Thanks for the reminder Robs.
Steve does another peek.
Bobby's eyes meet his.
Shit.
Steve stands so quick he almost stumbled. He grabs his jacket.
"Heading out." He says. He needs food, he needs air and he needs space. These recent trips down memory lane have not been welcoming at all. "Be back soon."
He didn't wait for Singer's response.
He opens the door, steps out and closes it behind him. Before he closes it he catches the old hunter looking at his very small collection of research notes.
Bet he's disappointed. Steve thought. That's all he ever gets from people. Dad, Mom, teachers and many other adult figures in his life. They look at him and see disappointment. Even Nancy did at one point back when they were together because he failed to be the supportive, caring boyfriend that she needed. Rather than helping her through her grief he chose to block the trauma out and pretend that everything was fine. He dragged her out to a party desperate to appear normal like their relationship wasn't crumbling before their very eyes.
"You're bullshit." Her voice rings. Still clear as the day she said it in the bathroom.
Steve knows she's right.
He is bullshit.
It's easier with kids. They create the perfect version of you in their mind, they idolize you. In their eyes you can do no wrong but adults, they see the reality they see what a fuck you truly are.
And Steve? Steve just smiles through the shit. He has been smiling every God damm day until his jaw hurts.
He smiles now in the rear-view mirror.
He is doing it again.
Pushing it down and marching on.
Once he has food in him he will be good to go. He is hungry, that's why he is feeling like this. It's nothing major. He is simply being dramatic.
Oh denial at its best.
When Steve goes down that line of thinking his mind decides to respond by giving him a swift kick.
By kick it means another lecture. A conversation he really does not want to have right now.
"You're doing it again." Robin said from the passenger seat. Leaning back, feet on the dashboard. Her eyes are narrow. "Pretending."
Steve sighs.
There she is.
One eyebrow then goes up. "I thought the whole idea of you doing this was to stop pretending." She adds. "You said it to Singer himself."
"That was different."
She scoffs.
"Really?"
"Uh huh."
Robin waits. Arms folded. Steve soon cracks.
"I need him to trust me.'
She still waits.
"I need him to see that I can do this." Steve nods.
He sighs again.
"So far I haven't done a great job of that."
His grip tightens on the wheel.
"I need this Robs. So bad. I need this to go well because if it doesn't, if I fail again I don't know what I'm gonna do."
Robin's feet slide off the dashboard. She sits up straight and looks right at him.
"I can't believe you sometimes."
He frowns.
"You're crashing out on day fucking one." Robin throws her hands up. Shaking her head vigorously "Seriously Steve day…one. You barely started the hunting gig and you are already freaking out. Good God."
"I'm not…" He grits his teeth and drops his head on the wheel. "I'm not." He repeats quietly.
"You know." Robin replies slowly as she gazes at the roof. "You can just tell him."
Steve's head snaps up at that.
"Just tell him the truth." Robin continues. "Be straight with him and tell him this ain't gonna work for you."
"I did. I told him research ain't my thing."
"Did you though? To me it looked like you backed down cuz you didn't want to piss him off."
"He said it's important."
"He did but your opinion is important too Steve." Robin turns back to face him. "You don't need to be like Daddy-O threatening the old man, you just gotta stand your ground and just…be you."
Steve doesn't reply. The silence weighs heavily in the vehicle.
"Otherwise." Robin breaks it. "You are gonna keep freaking out over every little thing because it reminds you how much your life sucks and how much you suck."
He raises his eyebrow at that.
"My words not yours." Robin says. "I'm just saying whatever your brain is producing. I'm part of your imagination, remember?"
"Unfortunately."
She grins.
"You love it."
Steve thinks it over.
Set out terms.
Build trust.
Work together.
Be open and honest about yourself.
Ask for help.
Steve stops right there.
He can't do it.
He already revealed too much to Singer he doesn't want to share anything more that could affect his chances of completing this course. He has to appear confident and composed. He has to be fine.
The kids look up to him like he is a hero. Cool, brave, can handle anything that is thrown at him.
Dustin practically worships him.
So Steve naturally leans into it.
Also for once in his life he wants Singer to be the first adult who won't look at him for what he really is.
Finally he wants to pass something. Earned and deserved. With no help whatsoever.
Steve flexes his fingers on the wheel and makes a decision.
"I'm here to learn and keep Hawkins safe, that's it." He takes a deep breath. "I will do the shitty research even if it takes me all night then after I will move on to the physical stuff and Bobby will see I'm a natural at it."
He nods to himself.
It sounds like a good plan.
"I will work with him but that doesn't mean we're gonna be friends." He glances sideways at her. "And I am not sharing any personal shit with him. We keep it business only."
She stares.
"Oh and the 'freak outs' it's a blip once I'm settled it will go away." He thinks for a moment. "And anyway Bobby is probably a shit cook. I ain't missing much."
He nods again. Satisfied.
"Right yeah. All that sounds good. Now we drop it."
Robin does a dramatic eye roll.
"Men and your stubborn, stupid ass pride."
Steve didn't comment. He turns on the engine ready to go.
Imaginary Robin wasn't done yet.
"One of these days you're gonna break and either you or someone else will get hurt."
Steve rolls down the window and reverses out of the driveway.
"You hear me dingus? This shit ain't healthy."
He slips on his sunglasses.
"Steve!"
Steve does what he always does when his head becomes loud with roaring thoughts. He switches on the radio, turns the volume up full blast and drowns the other voices out.
He glances over again.
Robin Buckley is gone.
Good.
Steve brings his attention back to the road.
His lips then curl upwards.
The familiar smile returns to his face.