Work Text:
Was that…a baby crying?
Steve had awoken to the noise, at first thinking it was a squeaky wheel on a passing car. As he came to, he realized the noise was more…human.
Confused and not fully convinced he wasn’t still asleep and dreaming, Steve pushed down his covers and hurriedly dressed. The crew were in the middle of a quiet, uneventful night shift. Hopper had insisted they all get some sleep, convinced they’d be called out in the middle of the night, saying he “felt it in his bones”. They’d been called out to a rubbish fire earlier in the afternoon, but that had so far been the extent of the work.
Until now.
Cautiously, Steve made his way down the stairs, now fully aware he was not dreaming, and starting to realize what he was actually hearing.
He rounded the corner to the entryway, catching a glint of headlights reflecting off the glass entrance doors, retreating at speed. Steve’s heart started to race in his chest, anxiety creeping in and starting to coil through his chest.
The crying was coming from outside. It was much louder downstairs, the sound reverberating through the empty entry way. The echo bounced off the walls and filled Steve’s ears as a small pile of blankets laid in front of the doors caught his eye.
Was that a fucking baby?
Steve’s anxiety now peaking and sweat forming on his forehead, he opened the door gently. He stepped out into the balmy night air and leant down to examine the blanket. The small, round face of an infant stared back at him; its cries stalled by the sight of Steve standing over it.
“Oh my god,” Steve gasped softly, trying not to startle the child.
Tucking the blanket carefully around the tiny form in front of him, Steve scooped the child into his arms, cradling it in the crook of his elbow. Through the tattered, thin blanket Steve could feel the crinkle of paper. Adjusting the now cooing child in his arms, he retrieved the crumpled paper from the fold of the blanket and unfurled it.
Please look after my baby.
I had no other option; I didn’t know what else to do and I have heard of people leaving their babies at Fire Stations.
I’m sorry, please don’t call the police, I cannot look after him on my own.
I had no choice.
Steve’s stomach somersaulted, knotting and churning as tears filled his eyes. He’d heard similar stories in his training. Women leaving their babies at the doors of fire stations, unable to care for them or not willing to. Steve thought it was an urban legend, something the brass talked about to scare new recruits, a messed-up way to sort the “weak” from the “strong”. The idea was that those not scared off by the grisly car accidents or house fires would be deterred by the idea of having to witness a child abandoned by its parents.
Hearing the stories was one thing; actually having it happen was a whole other ball game - one Steve was not prepared for in the slightest.
How the fuck do you care for a baby?
The child began to squirm in Steve’s hold, a cry bubbling in the back of his throat, small arms flailing in the air.
“Fuck,” Steve whispered under his breath as he started to bounce in place in an attempt to soothe the child. “Shit, I didn’t mean to swear. Shit I did it again.”
A laugh from behind him caused Steve to swing around in fright, unaware he was being watched. Hopper stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled and eyes red from what was likely a sudden awakening, much like Steve’s.
“You know it doesn’t understand you, right? It’s just a baby.” Hopper rubbed his eyes, looking mildly entertained at the sight of Steve standing in front of him with a crying infant in his arms.
“I don’t know, Chief, I just woke up and came down to find a damn baby, I wasn’t exactly thinking of how much of my vocabulary he’s taking in,” Steve snapped, kicking himself as he did, the child now further distressed at the sting in Steve’s voice.
“Come on then, bring them inside, they’re probably hungry,” Hopper stepped aside, gesturing for Steve to come inside.
At this point, the thunderous cries from the child had drawn the rest of the crew downstairs, all in varying states of disarray. Steve had to take a moment to calm his thoughts at the vision of his boyfriend who was standing on the stairs in nothing but his underwear. After all, he had a baby in his arms.
“What the fuck?” Robin exclaimed, taking the stairs two at a time as she barreled towards Steve.
“Robin, language,” Hopper reprimanded. Steve looked at him with his eyebrows raised. “You never know,” the Chief responded with a shrug.
Steve followed Hopper towards the kitchen, the rest of the crew in tow, Eddie and Robin by Steve’s side trying to get a look at the bundle in his arms.
“Billy, in the cupboard above the fridge is our baby supplies, bring that down and fill one of the bottles with some formula, would you?” Hopper directed, placing the kettle on the stove, presumably for himself.
“We have baby supplies?” Eddie asked, hoisting himself onto the bench next to where Steve had sat at one of the bar stools.
“Didn’t they teach you anything at the academy? Every fire station has supplies for abandoned babies. Granted, this is only about the sixth I’ve seen in my career, but we all have ‘em.” Hopper had his back turned, focused on the box of supplies in front of him.
Steve watched Eddie’s shoulders drop, his face slumping with them.
“I suppose I just didn’t think it actually happened,” Eddie said softly, leaning over the now sleeping baby, still positioned in Steve’s arms. He reached out and delicately traced his finger over the crown of the child’s head. Steve smiled, suddenly overcome by a strong wave of adoration for his boyfriend.
“Should we... give it some fruit loops?” Dmitri’s voice was muffled by the box of cereal he had his face stuffed into.
Billy snatched the box from him, giving him a playful tap on the back of the head as he did. “No, you idiot, it’s a baby. We’ve gotta give it milk or some shit.”
Hopper stopped what he was doing to glare at Dmitri and Billy, rolling his eyes in their direction. The pair shrugged and sat down at the dining table, the box of cereal still their only focus.
“Robin, call social services, would you? The on-call number is on my desk. I think it’s Sheila on this month, she’s not too far from here.” Hopper directed as he shook a bottle of formula, the bottle dwarfed in his hands.
Robin mimed a salute and started in the direction of Hopper’s office. Steve looked down at the sleeping weight in his arms, taking in every detail on his small face. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was what the mother had been doing before she placed him at their door, tears streaming down her face at the thought of having to leave her son. He wondered what her situation was, what had forced her to leave him on their doorstep. Was she young? Did her family not approve? Was she sick like Wayne? He marveled at the innocence of the baby, silently praying it would never experience any further loss.
“Steve?” Hopper placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, the other hand offering the bottle to him, a look of concern on his face. Steve didn’t realize he was crying again, his tears falling onto the threadbare blanket.
Steve quickly wiped his face with the back of his hand and took the bottle from Hopper with a reassuring smile. “I’m ok.”
“I cried the first time we had a drop-off too,” Hopper revealed, hoisting his large frame onto the bench beside Eddie. “Was a wee girl. No older than this one. Her mother dropped her at the door in the middle of the day, no note or anything.”
“I don’t understand how ,” Eddie had turned to look at Hopper, one hand resting on Steve’s arm for comfort.
“Not for us to understand, kid. There’ll be a reason behind it, one that we don’t need to know. We’re not in the business of judgement,” Hopper shrugged and lowered himself from the bench. He laid a hand on the baby’s head and smiled. Steve was certain he saw the harsh kitchen lights catch the twinkle of a tear in the older man's eyes as he turned away.
“What the fuck is that smell,” Billy gagged, his hand flying to cover his nose.
“Wasn’t me,” Dmitri joked as he left the room hurriedly, no doubt aware of the real culprit and trying to escape any involvement.
The child was awake, and contorting his face in a way that suggested there was nothing pleasant about what he’d just done. In Steve’s arms. In a blanket full of holes. Steve recoiled as he felt the warmth on his arm, cursing himself for not putting on a long-sleeved shirt when he stumbled out of bed.
“Oh my god,” Eddie cried out, leaping off the bench. “Did it just shit everywhere? That’s my cue, sorry Stevie, you know I don’t do well with this, I struggle to even clean up Wayne’s sick.”
Steve watched aghast as his boyfriend left the room, a guilty look plastered over his face. Billy shook his head violently as he ran after Eddie, leaving Hopper the only lifeline Steve had left. Looking at the man with an exaggerated smile on his face, Steve raised his eyebrows hopefully and motioned towards the cooing child in his arms.
Hopper scoffed and crossed his arms, staunch in his position, staring Steve down with an intensity that indicated Steve wasn’t winning this battle. Defeated, Steve sighed as he reached for the diapers in the supply box in front of him.
Failing to bite back another curse word, Steve watched as the mess leaked down his arm, Hopper’s laughter filling the room.
“Fuck.”