Chapter Text
There are a bunch of children on his front lawn.
Steve, for his own sanity, is starting to wonder if this is the part where he calls the police to complain about “hooligan kids” harassing him on his own turf like he’s some evil grandpa from a really bad family movie.
“Shithead!” one tiny, very annoying, curly haired nuisance shouts up at his window, “I know you’re in there Steve! I can see your hair!”
Breathe Harrington, he thinks, you can be an evil crotchety grandpa another day.
“You want to what?”
Dustin is smiling at him with his “I’m innocent I have no idea why your voice is going up 5 octaves” smile, pearly teeth and all. He takes back being an evil grandpa for another day. He is vindictive and petty and it is 9 in the goddamn morning on a Saturday, he will be the evil grandpa now.
Something must show on his face, because Dustin’s smile immediately turns from “I’m innocent” to “Time To Abort” with capital letters and all, and promptly backs up into Lucas, who looks for all the world like he really regrets being friends with every person present. The little shit is personally climbing Steve’s favorite list just for the fact that he looks about as done with the situation as Steve feels.
“Sleepover,” El pipes up from the center mass that makes up a bunch of children crowding his front door, curls flopped all over. There’s a ridiculously bright neon pink headband holding them out of her eyes.
His lips press into each other so hard they start to ache.
Will is standing to one side of her, eyes darting to anywhere but him. Mike is on the other side, trying to melt him with his stare. Lucas is also staring at him, but it has more of the feeling of trying to get him to just send him away so he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore, and less like he’s trying to melt his skull before he has the chance to say no. Max just looks like she wants to fist fight him, which in general isn’t new, her arms crossed as she takes a protective stance right next to Will. Dustin still has his abort face, but some confidence has returned with the gaggle of toddlers on too long legs backing him up, and immediately takes up the front once again, mimicking Max’s crossed arms.
“Let me get this straight,” he says, and they all collectively nod as one unit. Jesus Christ, anyone else should be dealing with this other than him.
“You want,” another collective nod what the fuck- “To have a sleepover at my house?”
Dustin takes the lead, smile turning back into the “I’m innocent don’t look at them I’m your favorite you know you love me and I’m smarter than you anyways” smile he likes to use when manipulating Steve into doing what he wants.
“Yeah! Mrs. Wheeler said we can’t have the basement tonight cause apparently she can’t “handle” all the noise we make even though we’re totally not that loud, and we can’t use my house cause my mom will like, hound us left and right and then force feed them her homemade cookies, which are not good, so no way that’s happening,” he nods, like that's sacred knowledge everyones privy to. Apparently it is, cause everyone else nods in solemn agreement.
“And we can’t go to Lucas’s cause Erica’s sick and the Sinclairs don’t want us catching anything or whatever, Max’s is just no go, obviously, and um,” Dustin loses his steam for a second, and Steve feels the tell tale nagging sensation that they’ve done something without permission. Again.
“And?” He prompts. This is their chance to back out, he’s giving them an opening, and they better take it, or evil grandpa Steve will be replaced with harping babysitter Steve and no one will like that.
He raises his eyebrow.
“Uh,” the abort look is back, “Okay so- we uh, wemightvesnuckwillandeloutoftheirhouses-“
Hook, line, and sinker, he thinks a bit hysterically
“I’m sorry,” his voice is climbing again, and now all of them have slightly different versions of abort written on their faces, “I thought- I thought I just heard you say you snuck Will, whose mother has gone to the ends of the earth just to bring him home safe, and El, who is supposed to be a secret, and whose father is Chief Hopper, out of the safety of their respective houses to have a sleepover?!”
They all collectively wince. And then nod. Where the fuck is he even, did they develop a hive mind when he wasn’t looking?
“It’s not that bad,” Will says, voice a little scratchy as he holds his elbows, big eyes still darting left and right, like Joyce Byres might actually pop out and start lecturing all of them on being safe while herding them back home. Steve would not be surprised if it’s happened before.
“It’s.. Stuffy,” El says, eyebrows scrunched together, and Will's eyes immediately lock onto her, and then back to Steve, “Being stuck. Inside.”
“It’s um, better to sneak out, then not see them,” Will murmurs, gesturing to their little huddle still on his doorstep, and Steve feels himself deflate a bit.
“Hop and Joyce.. are good,” El continues, eyebrows still scrunched, and he really should congratulate her on how fast she’s getting used to speaking and somehow getting her point across clearly at the same time.
“But they tend to crowd,” Will finishes, “And we all know they’re worried but- it’s too much? We just want to get away, and pretend like everything is normal. I can't do that when my brother keeps coming into my room every 5 minutes or- or my mom asks me how I’m doing everytime I even breathe slightly different and-“ he cuts himself off, curling in on himself.
“We want.. a break,” El takes over again, hand resting on Will's arm “Only a small break. You are.. safe. But not Stuffy. Not like Hop and Joyce.”
By the end of their little speech, Steve’s completely deflated, and is rubbing his hand over his eyes. He gets it, but not really at the same time. His parents have never been around long enough to hover, much less care. Though he doubts if they were it’d ever reach the same level as Joyce or Hopper. But still..
“Alright shitheads,” he sighs, and he’s going to regret this, he just knows it, “You can stay- as long as you promise not to break anything, you clean up after yourselves, and you two call your parents so they don’t sound the alarm, got it?”
They all jump and give collective whoops as they barge past him into his home with thank you’s and you’re the best’s thrown over their shoulders. Lucas passes by him with a “you should’ve said no” look, but he’s got a half smug smile on his face when he turns to go inside so he thinks he must’ve not hated the idea as much as he was pretending. El and Will make up the rear, and he’s a little startled when they both wrap around him like the roots of a tree searching for water, but it passes just as quickly as it comes, and then they're both bounding in after the others with smiles wider than he’s seen on the both of them combined.
It feels good, knowing he helped bring out those smiles.
“Dude,” Dustin says through a mouth full of macaroni, “Just become my mom instead.”
“Dude,” Steve mimics back, “Be nicer to your mom.”
Dustin stares him down as he pointedly shoves another bite into his mouth, chewing very loudly with it open.
Beside him Lucas looks up from making goo-goo eyes at Max also shoving forkfuls into her mouth, face twisted in disgust.
“Very good,” El nods decisively on the other side of Max, putting more pepper on her already coated macaroni. He’s going to have to cut her off soon, considering the entire top half of the bowl is almost completely blotted out by specks of black. Both Will and Mike look torn between telling her to stop and just letting her do whatever she wants.
Soon is now- he thinks as he gently removes the pepper shaker from her grasp when she goes for more, not even 3 minutes later, and tells her she won’t be able to taste the cheese if she puts too much. She seems frustrated for a moment, and tries to stare him down, but then her face scrunches up like she’s thinking about it, and then nods as she picks up her fork again and shoves a bite into her mouth without even stirring in the pepper. He’s aged 40 years in a matter of 4 hours he swears to god.
Remembering the invasion of the nerds 4 hours ago makes his head spike with pain, having watched them all throw down their backpacks and other objects onto his couch and floor in some vague macabre of a human hurricane, which had sent some visceral urge to turn around and flee down his spine. He’d chosen his grave though, and he must lie in it.
That metaphorical grave was apparently going to become a real one sooner or later anyways, considering after watching nerd party central set up all their shit, and then corralling El and Will to both call their respective guardians, someone decided it was a free for all on who could seemingly kill him first.
Will, inadvertently, was the one who delivered him the killing blow.
He’d come peeking around the corner of the living room entryway, eyes wide and hand over the phone's receiver. Steve should’ve known better when he asked what was wrong.
The words “my mom's mad” and “she wants to talk to you” have never sent so much fear through Steve before, but he’ll be damned if those words tumbling out of Will's mouth didn’t make him shoot straight up into a full on heart attack. El had even looked at him with a big frown, murmuring something about his heart being too fast to Mike, who in turn had taken one look at him and then whipped over to Will, as if he would take over in Steve’s panic-filled absence. But he’d swallowed the bile slowly creeping up his throat, shoved the spiking in his chest down, and marched over to take the phone from Will before little Wheeler royally fucked up everything.
Joyce didn’t yell when he’d answered with a “Hello, Mrs. Byres” which he will be eternally grateful for, but he could still feel the thinly veiled upset leaking through the line. She’d always been a frantic sort of woman, a little high strung and emotions coming through her tone. Her stuttering, rapid fire questions and quick little breaths between didn’t change the fact that her voice had been harder than stone as she talked though.
He’d told her everything was fine, yes everyone was safe, no one was hurt, yes it’s okay if they stay the night, yes I can drop everyone off tomorrow, yes I have what I need, yes I’m having El call Hopper, have a lovely day Mrs. Byres, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.
She’d said a soft “Be safe, sweetheart” over the line before he’d handed it back over to Will, and he’d immediately felt every single muscle in his body suddenly relax with the reassurance that Joyce Byres was not in fact coming for his head.
Her and Will had talked some more, him nodding and what sounded like reassurances of “I’m not mad, sweety, just upset” and “I love you” coming through the line before he eventually hung up.
Then it was Els' turn.
Hopper had seemed slightly more exasperated about the whole thing than actually mad, like this was something he’d been expecting, and had also told El to put him on the line.
He repeated what he’d said to Joyce, and Hopper grunted his approval before saying he’d stop by later that night when his shift was over to check in, which he readily agreed with, and El nodded along saying “that’s fine.. not real stuffy.” Before taking the phone back, saying goodbye and then promptly hanging up. He may have giggled a little hysterically at that, sue him.
Now here he was, witnessing El eat macaroni covered in at least half a cup's worth of pepper. He’s only 17, he should not be having any heart attacks.
“Anyways,” Dustin cuts into his thoughts, and Jesus Christ he looked away for one second and suddenly there is macaroni all over his dining room table- “Steve’s my new mom now.”
Lucas, who’s got macaroni smeared across his face and is holding his fork like a weapon, looks like he wants to stab Dustin in the eye.
“Why,” Steve asks, already grabbing paper towels from the kitchen. He’s not even going to question what he missed while reminiscing about his near death experiences.
“Because! My mom definitely doesn’t cook this good, and this is only macaroni. I bet you make really good casserole. Do you? Please tell me you do, my mom can’t make casserole at all, she always ends up giving us food poisoning-“
“Dustin if you don’t shut up-“ Lucas makes a jab for Dustin's eye.
“How about you both shut up-“ Max butts in, having commandeered Mike's fork so now she has two and virtually also has more power than the both of them. El continues to chew through her pepper macaroni happily, watching the 3 of them get into an argument like a child would watch tigers at the zoo. Will has tentatively offered and been accepted into sharing his fork with Mike, who keeps shooting dirty looks at Max while she holds up both forks and lets out a war cry. Both Dustin and Lucas respond accordingly.
“Alright, alright!” He interrupts before it can get bloody “Enough! No fighting at the table, you hear me assholes?” He plops the paper towels in the center of said table, and rips off a few to clean up the macaroni dumpster pile between Dustin and Lucas's bowls. All 3 glare at each other over his head, but ultimately settle.
“Also,” Steve adds “Stop being mean to your mom. She dropped off a casserole once, it wasn't that bad.”
Truthfully it had been god awful and Steve didn’t eat more than 3 bites before sadly dumping it into the trash. But Mrs. Henderson is nice and he will not stand for Dustin trying to get him to replace her as some “better mom.” He's a teenager. Just because he knows his way around a kitchen doesn’t mean he’s suddenly fantastic parent material.
He looks up from scraping the last bit of the macaroni pile into his wad of paper towels to see Dustin's eyes wide and mouth gaping open.
“You’re too powerful..” he says like he’s partly in awe and also like he thinks Steve is the stupidest person ever.
“Eat your macaroni, Henderson.” Steve says, and shoves the kids fork into his mouth.
“POOL PARTY!”
Steve feels his youth being drained. He has gray hairs. He swears to god he has gray hairs.
“Nuh-uh you little shits! Pool is off limits!”
There is a collective ‘aaawwwee’ that goes around except from Will, the toddler gang all stopping their scrambling at his back door like a bunch of rabid racoons being caught. Dustin’s giving him his best “But I thought you loved me” face. Steve is not a weak man, so good luck next time Henderson.
He looks off to the side to collect all of his disapproval into the frown he wants to put onto his face, and to totally not avoid Dustin's puppy dog eyes, only to realize El’s slipped up beside him without him noticing, hand holding onto the sleeve of his sweater. He blinks, then turns to continue his stare down with assholes 1-4, his patented I’m Disappointed frown in full gear. Better to not question it anyways.
She looks up at him, and then looks back at the group, mouth and eyebrows scrunched in an imitation of his own.
Mike looks like he’s been dealt the worst betrayal of his entire life.
Will pops up on his other side, a small frown also on his lips.
“It’s too cold to even swim, guys. It’s almost December.”
“The pool is heated-”
“Shut up Dustin!”
“You shut up Lucas!”
“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP-”
Gray. Hairs.
“Eggos,” El is still wearing her imitation of his disapproval frown from earlier, but now it’s directed at him. He feels a bit insulted, and a little off balance.
“Eggos..?” He repeats
“Eggos.”
He feels very, very off balance as he mutters a small “Okay..?”
Dustin leans over from where he’s been incessantly poking Max in the shoulder while explaining something no doubt incredibly nerdy about the Star Wars movie they’ve put on, and ends up half sprawled in Mike's lap when he says “Dude, she wants Eggos.”
Steve has two consecutive thoughts in the moment that follows. 1) His couch is definitely not big enough for 7 people. 2) He sadly does not have any Eggos.
As if she can read his mind, El’s frown deepens.
Mike thinks it’s the perfect time to pointedly dig his elbow into Steve’s thigh.
He is not above shoving little Wheeler off the couch.
Mike ends up taking Dustin with him to the floor in a heap of squawking and a “what the shit, Harrington-“ while Lucas and Max burst out in obnoxious laughter at their plight and El looks on in mild confusion. Will, who’s been side-eying him the entire time, apparently decides to strategically take advantage of the distraction, and slips a box of Eggos from his backpack before tossing it into his lap at the speed of light.
If anyone turned to look, they wouldn’t think twice about Will Byres sitting there, seemingly enraptured by Star Wars playing on the Tv, the picture of innocence.
Steve doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop feeling off balance.
El turns back to face him when she gets bored of watching Dustin and Mike decide they aren’t going to move from their new position on the floor, and immediately lights up when she sees the Eggos he’s awkwardly holding between his hands.
“Ta-da..?”
“How?
“..Magic?”
El grabs his hand and drags him into the kitchen, smiling brighter than the sun.
“Why do you own so many freaking ABBA songs?”
“ABBA is an amazing group and I will not accept slander in this house. If you’ve got a problem you can say goodbye to your sleepover privileges Wheeler.”
Mike blinks at him, his face scrunched up in indignant repulsion at his mere existence.
“I hate you.” the little shit says with feeling, as he turns around to put the 5th ABBA record he’d pulled from the shelf back. Max snickers next to him, and he pushes her. She immediately squares up.
Steve sighs with the inflection of a 50 year old stressed parent.
“Don’t worry Steve,” Will chimes in, holding a Blondie record up to inspect, “I think your music choices are great!”
Lucas is next to the other boy, eyes switching between watching Max beat up Mike on the other end of the shelf and then glancing at what records Will pulls out.
He looks over at Steve, eyebrows furrowed as if inspecting a new species. “Your choices are kinda girly though, man.”
“You’re demoted from being my favorite,” Steve says without missing a beat.
Dustin, who’s still occupying the couch with him, screeches an indignant “WHAT??” right into his ear. Suddenly he’s being shaken like a toy truck by a five year old.
“I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR FAVORITE!”
Dustin sounds genuinely distraught by this revelation of apparent non-favoritism, getting right in Steve’s face to show just how much he cares about it.
“I’m definitely his favorite now!” Max yells from where she’s got Mike on the floor in a headlock. He thinks he may hear some wheezing but he’s not too sure, so he leaves it be.
“No, I am. He was just saying that cause Lucas made fun of his music taste! I’ve always been his favorite!” Dustin turns to him, placing a hand on his shoulder “I’ll never make fun of your music taste.”
Steve blinks.
“I don’t believe you at all dude.”
Dustin let’s out a very indignant sound.
“But-“
“So I’m totally his favorite!” Mike’s face returns to its original color as Max shoots to her feet.
“If I take back what I said about your music can I be your favorite again?”
“No way! You can't do that Lucas!” Dustin practically launches himself off the couch.
“Oh yeah, who says?”
“Me!”
“Uh huh, real good point Dustin.”
“Can the both of you shut up! Clearly I’m his favorite, I don’t talk like a nerd all the time.”
“You hang out with us so you’re technically an honorary nerd.”
“Who asked you Wheeler? I’ll put you in another headlock.”
“You’re all delusional, I’m Steve’s favorite! I’m the one that convinced him to help us!”
“Yeah but who’s the one who actually put in work at the junkyard?”
“So-“
“That doesn’t even matter-“
“It does!”
“How!”
“Because!”
“At least I kept lookout! What did Dustin do?”
“It was my plan!”
“UGH BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP-“
Wills saddled up beside him on the couch, clutching a Foreigner record Steve snuck onto the shelf behind his moms back, eyes flicking between all 3 like it’s some terrible tennis match. He then looks up at Steve, and smiles shyly.
“Do you mind if I take this home with me? Jonathan lost his a while ago and I thought it’d be cool to show him yours. Maybe he could even come over and listen to it sometime.”
A burst of warmth spreads throughout his chest. Steve doesn’t even realize he’s grinning before he answers.
“Sure, little dude,” he ruffles the kids' hair, “Also, you're my favorite.” He says as he gives him a conspiratorial wink
Will's eyes go big like saucers, still blinking up at him, but then they glint with something mischievous. His grin turns secretive and he giggles under his breath when Steve winks at him again, pulling him into a side hug.
“Who is your favorite?” Is whispered right into his ear.
Steve nearly jumps a foot into the air
“Jesus, El! Shit, don’t scare me like that,” he gasps out, clutching his chest. Will snickers into his side as El easily slides into the other, nose scrunched up as her eyes flicker between his chest and face.
“Heart beats too fast sometimes. Probably need a doctor.” She tells him succinctly.
“I wouldn’t need one if you all would stop trying to scare the shit out of me..” Steve grumbles under his breath, ruffling her curls. Her nose scrunches up again, but leans fully into his side anyways, knees pulling up to her chest. Her eyes inevitably get drawn over to where Dustin and Lucas are still yelling at each other while Max uses Mike as a step stool to give her more height over them both and to have more power. Again.
He doesn’t think Mike is too happy about the situation, but when is he ever?
“Am I your favorite too?” She asks, eyes flicking back to his face.
He can’t help it, he starts laughing.
Both kids watch him with big eyes as Max tumbles to the floor with a screech in the background, Mike suddenly deciding he's tired of being a walking mat.
Mike definitely doesn’t get away fast enough if his cut off scream is any indication.
“Of course,” he says over the sudden pleas for mercy coming from in front of him, still chuckling. El’s eyes are twinkling when she smiles back.
“Tell you what,” he whispers suddenly, whipping his head back and forth between the two, “I’ll let you both in on a secret.”
The two glance at each other, before leaning towards where his head is bent, meeting his eyes directly. Will is clutching the Foreigner record like a lifeline
“You’re all my favorites.”
Will snorts violently, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder to contain his wheezing laughter. El blinks at him, before breaking out in sudden giggles, eyes darting over to where Dustin and Lucas have reformed their friendship to chant “Fight! Fight! Fight!” over Max putting Mike in another headlock while he pulls at her hair. She glances back over to him, giggling even harder.
“I know, crazy right?”
“Very,” Will snickers, and El nods vigorously in agreement.
A piercing chime suddenly rings throughout the house.
“PIZZA!” Dustin and Max scream at the same time, both shooting off towards the front door, Lucas not far behind. Mike wheezes on the ground.
El promptly gets up to go poke at him with her foot, and Steve gives Will one last squeeze before also getting up, muttering about making sure The Three Rabid Muskrats don’t scare away their damn pizza.
“It’s Musketeers,” Mike rasps.
“I’ve heard it both ways!” Steve shouts as he heads towards the door.
“..Bye, bye, miss American pie, drove my Chevy to the..”
Music is playing when Steve wakes up.
Which is very, very strange. No one has played music in his house in a long time.
Somewhere between his slitted eyes and the inky blackness trying to creep back in, he vaguely recalls the kids going through his and his mom's record collection, picking ones up and then immediately switching them out for others. He thinks he told them something about getting into pajamas before listening to anything...
He glances around, rubbing one eye with his fist as he yawns, joints cracking along the way. There’s a weird pressure around his head.
Probably just sleep fog.
“..And there we were all in one place, A generation lost in space..”
Will is against his side, he notices when he shifts. He ended up on the floor somehow, and little Byres tucked himself into his side like a kitten looking for a soft place to sleep. Max is only a few inches away, head resting against Lucas’s knee, the boy's body slumped to the side against the cushions of the couch. Mike and El are curled around each other behind his head, if the way their legs stick out in the corner of his eye gives him any clue, both their feet pressing into Lucas’s hip. He thinks one of their hands might be tangled in his hair.
Dustin is asleep on the back of the couch, snoring away, hand dangling to brush Els shoulder. He doesn’t even know how he’s managed to stay up there.
“..So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick..”
He rests Will against Max, watching him unconsciously curl into her instead, and smiles a little bit as he stands. One of the little shits must’ve flicked off the lights before passing out, cause everything is dark around them, the only light seeping in from the kitchen. Probably forgot to turn it off like the nerds they were.
Someone even left one of the empty pizza boxes on the damn floor, and he snorts at the square shape sitting in front of him, confusing his eyes for all of .5 seconds and leaving him to blink through the pressure around his skull. He finally picks it up from the floor when he realizes it isn’t gonna move itself, and sets it on the table.
There’s a creak in the shadows behind him, and he stops moving.
He looks left, then right. Breathes in.
The dark makes his chest tighten a little, but it’s okay. They’re okay.
Everything’s okay.
“..Cause fire is the devil's only friend..”
The lights in the kitchen flicker.
Should’ve knocked on wood, he thinks, distantly.
The lights flicker again. The Tv clicks on.
Static is the only thing that comes through.
He breathes once, twice, thrice. Blinks four times. The kitchen lights won’t stop flickering.
“..No angel born in hell, could break that satan spell..”
El closed the gate. She closed it. It’s his imagination, or shitty wiring, or something not the Upside Down. It has to be.
The pressure around his head hasn’t stopped at all, like a buzz that the static just makes worse. He feels like he can’t hear anything.
He ducks down to reach for his bat underneath the couch, eyes never leaving the kitchen. Smooth wood meets the palm of his hand, nails scraping against the floor as he pulls it out.
He can barely hear it.
Once, twice, thrice. In and out. Breathe.
Someone snorts in their sleep. The static picks up.
The dark, the kids, and him in between. Unconsciously, he gets the bat ready.
Why won’t the lights stop flickering?
“…Singin', this'll be the day that I die..”
“..this’ll be the day that I die..”
“..this'll be the day that I die..”
“..this’ll be the day that I die..”
Something starts banging against his front door.