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Chapter Text

One - Hopper

“Look, Chief, how much will it cost to make this all go away?” 

The smooth voice of Richard Harrington was unmistakable. It was dripping with the money that had put him through private school and etiquette classes. 

Smarmy bastard , was all Jim could think as he stared through the blinds at the sullen teen in his precinct. 

“My son has always been a bit… well, delicate,” Richard continued, not seeming to care that Jim hadn’t answered. “I don’t think a criminal record would help him much, I can guarantee when I get home I'll ensure he’s punished fully but for now is there another way we can settle this.” 

“Mr. Harrington, I don’t think you’re understanding me correctly here, I was-“ 

“No,” the interruption was harsh, cold. 

Ah, there you are, Jim thought with satisfaction as the beast escaped for a second. 

“I don’t think you understand, Jim,” the use of his first name was intentional - he was trying to undermine his authority. “I’m not in town but I’ll send someone down to the station tomorrow with my chequebook and we can sort this out.” 

There was a simple click and then the buzzing tone that only increased his irritation as Jim imagined everything he wished he could say in retaliation.

Jim growled, slamming the handset down harder than was necessary before storming out of his office.

Steve’s head jolted up with the sound and he looked over at Hopper briefly before breaking eye contact to stare at the floor instead. He was picking at the fluff on the jumper Jim had found for him in the lost property box. His own clothes were sitting in a plastic bag beside his chair. 

What a sorry damned sight , Jim thought with a sigh as he took in just how young Steve looked as he sat there with damp hair, pale skin and clothes belonging to a stranger that were a good two sizes too big for him. 

“They’re not coming,” it wasn't a question. 

“No,” yet Jim still felt he had to answer. 

Steve merely nodded to himself. “Am I in trouble?” 

No , not with the law, was what Jim wanted to say, instead though he simply raised an eyebrow at the youngest Harrington who was nothing like his predecessors. “Should you be?” 

“I suppose not,” Steve said, still staring at the floor. “I was just sitting.” 

“Just sitting?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Just sitting on the steep ass edge of the damn quarry?” Jim continued to ask.

“It’s a good place to think,” Steve said quietly. 

“Is it now?” 

Fear curled around his stomach, tightening its icy tendrils in a dizzying grasp. “How often do you go up there to think?”

Jim didn’t know if he wanted an answer or not. He was afraid of knowing the truth. Steve merely gave him a half-shrug - it was worse than a definitive answer, it was the acknowledgement that neither of them would like the truth. 

“Look, Kid, given where you were found I can’t let you go home alone,” Jim said. “You need to have someone with you and be in a place of safety, now if I can’t get your parents to come and get you then…”

Steve sighed a shuddering breath and finally met Jim’s gaze. “I’ll be fine on my own,” he said. 

Yeah, ‘cause that’s been doing you a fat fucking load of good so far , Jim fought the words back from the tip of his tongue. 

“You’re not going to be alone,” it wasn’t a discussion. “You can come back with me.” 

“Thanks but I'll be fine, Hop, besides I’ll be over tomorrow for family dinner so you don’t have to worry about me offing myself overnight.” 

“Don’t I?” Jim asked before he could stop himself. “No one but you has brought that up, Son.” 

Steve snorted, staring anywhere but at Jim, “It’s what you were thinking, don’t deny it.” 

“Steve, we found you sitting on the edge of the quarry in the rain. In November! Excuse me for being concerned that there’s more going on than you’ve said.” 

“I know it looks bad,” Steve whispered. “I didn’t do  anything.”

“Just because you didn’t, doesn’t mean you didn’t want to.” 

Steve grimaced, clenching his fists for a few seconds before forcing himself to relax and shoot him that smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was a smile Jim had seen before, every time he had looked in the mirror back when he buried his sorrow in a bottle. He was fairly sure that Steve wasn't doing that but he wasn't exactly coping with everything in a healthy manner either. 

“You’ve got two choices here, Son,” Jim said as gently as he could whilst making sure Steve was aware that he wouldn't compromise on the matter. “You can come home with me tonight, I’m sure Joyce would be thrilled to have you over, she’s been saying that you don't visit often enough, or your other option is that I take you to the hospital.” 

“The hospital?” Steve questioned. “I’m not hurt?” 

“No, but that also counts as a place of safety.” 

Jim was glad to see Steve’s mouth twist into a grimace. It meant that he understood this wasn't negotiable, he would choose the easiest option for them both. 

Jim was satisfied to be proven right as they drove back to his and Joyce’s place. Steve was silent in the passenger seat, stewing over something that he didn't feel ready to share. That was until they pulled up outside the small home, it was late at night but the outdoor lights had been left on for Jim getting back, casting a soft orange glow on the porch. 

“Try and be quiet, alright, I don't want to wake the kids,” Jim muttered as he turned the engine off.

The was a beat of silence, a heavy exhale and then, “I wasn't going to jump y’know.” 

Thank fuck for that, Kid, but I don't know if I believe you, Jim thought. 

“I go up there a lot, I don't really sleep well anymore and there's something about it… about the riskiness of sitting on that precipice that makes everything feel a little insignificant.”

Jim wanted to say something, to tell Steve that he shouldn't feel lesser than anyone or anything else, that he was anything but insignificant… but he bit his tongue and waited, sensing that Steve was just thinking and not actually finished speaking. 

“I don't want to die,” Steve admitted. “I’ve spent so long fighting to live and fighting for those kids to live that I couldn't just stop now, but… I guess I feel numb quite a lot. That insignificance that I feel when I’m sitting on the edge? That’s bigger, stronger perhaps, than the numbness. And the fear that I might somehow mess up and fall, well, that’s the  thrill that keeps me going back.” 

Shit. 

“It’s not that I want to fall or die or any of that,” Steve said quickly. “It’s just that I want to be able to feel something other than numb and hollow.” 

Numb and hollow… Jim supposed it would be easier if the kid had wanted to die. 

“Steve, look Son, I’m not an expert at anything,” Jim began. “Fuck it, I was the king of shitty coping mechanisms and poor judgement calls not that long ago. I want to help you but I don't know how to do it without risking making things worse.” 

Steve nodded, dejected, “I get it, Hop. I don't expect you to fix this for me, don't worry.” 

“No, Kid, that’s not at all what I meant,” Jim insisted. “I’m saying that I’m gonna mess up at some point, that’s inevitable but I care about you a crazy amount and I want to help. I also want you to consider speaking to a professional.” 

“A shrink?” Steve interrupted. “You want me to speak with a shrink? That’s only going to get me locked away in the loony bin, can you imagine their face when I start talking about other worlds and monsters crawling through gates?” 

“There are some therapists that Owens gave me the contact details of for Will, but I’m sure they’d work with you too,” Jim said.

“You trust them?” 

“I trusted them enough to take Will and El to weekly appointments and let them chat privately,” Jim admitted. “Owens gave them a glowing recommendation and they let us control the location and times of the meetings.” 

“I’ll… I’m not saying I’ll go, but I’ll consider it.” 

“Good,” Jim said, feeling an immense relief. It was progress, it was acknowledgement of an issue and the understanding that a solution was possible. 

They climbed out of the cruiser in silence, both trapped within their own thoughts. Halfway to their house, Jim paused. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” Steve stopped in his tracks, turning to face the older man. 

Jim paused, taking him in. 

The pale skin and bags under his eyes supported what he had been saying about not sleeping well. The poor boy looked like he hadn't had a full night's rest in months. Not only that but he was looking thinner - obviously he was not taking care of himself properly. It was concerning and Jim couldn't help but be grateful that a random passerby had called the police about a suspicious figure sitting on the edge of the quarry that evening. Who knew how long it would have taken them to figure out what was happening otherwise? 

“Come here, Son,” Jim muttered, reaching out and pulling Steve into his chest. 

The boy tensed as though he didn't know what was happening, his muscles locking up as his confusion halted any movements. It only took a few moments for him to slowly relax into the hold. Slowly, as if afraid of rejection, his forehead came to rest on Jim’s shoulder and he let out a shuddering breath. 

“It’s going to be alright, I promise,” Jim whispered. 

“You can't promise that,” Steve replied. 

“I can and I am,” Jim said, he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. Steve would be alright so long as he never stopped believing that he had people fighting his corner. 

Two - Joyce 

Joyce’s home had never been more alive and she was loving it. Between the constant stream of kids running through her halls and the teenagers who liked to slink around like sullen children, it was never quiet and she adored the chaos. A recent addition, however, was Hawkins’ broken golden child. 

Joyce had met him multiple times, she liked him. He was a kind, gentle boy who had seemingly shitty parents and a never-ending amount of time for the children that followed him around like little lost puppies. She says that she’d ‘met’ him because it wasn't until Jim dragged him home in the early hours of the morning a few weeks ago, that she realised that she’d never known him. 

She hadn't realised that he wasn't living with a golden spoon in his mouth like the entirety of Hawkins believed and she hated herself for it. After all, they say it takes one to know one, so why was it that she hadn't used her experience of being with Lonnie to see what she was looking at? To see the deep loneliness and sorrow in Steve’s eyes. To see how he would tense whenever anyone appeared suddenly or spoke to him harshly. 

She wished she had helped him earlier. 

Maybe then he wouldn't be so… broken. 

Maybe then Jim wouldn't be swinging by Loch Nora every night to pick up the lost boy and bring him home.

“It’s been three weeks now,” Jim muttered that night. “Three damn weeks since I found him sitting on that ledge.”

“You don't think he’s making improvements?” Joyce asked gently, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. 

“Oh I know he is, he’s trying ,” Jim said. “When he’s struggling, he calls me and when he feels the urge to sit on that ledge, I bring him here.” 

“He’s been here every night since it happened,” she wasn't complaining, she liked having him there. It was merely an observation.

“He has because as much as he’s improving and making the moves to reach out, he’s still hurting and in need of help,” Jim said. “My biggest issue though, is that every single time I’ve picked him up, his car has been the only one sitting in the driveway.” 

“His parents aren't home?” 

“I don't think they’ve been home in months,” Jim admitted to her. 

“That’s… that’s horrible,” she said, although she wondered if he was better off for their absence. “They’re his parents and they've abandoned him.”

“They have but I like to think that he’s building a new family.” 

“Do you think we’re part of it?” 

Jim’s answer was lost in the bang of the front door and the flood of steps. 

“Hey! You little shits!” Steve’s voice followed after them. “You’ve left me with everything.” 

“Sorry, Steve!” Dustin shouted back although he made no attempts to turn around. “We appreciate your sacrifice.” 

Steve appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, arms laden with bags from the supermarket. He’d gone to grab everything they needed from their shopping list while picking up the boys for their weekend sleepover. 

Joyce wished she could make him realise that he didn't have to do chores in return for their love but no matter how many times she told him that, he didn't seem to accept it as his truth. 

Will quietly stood beside her as Steve began putting the groceries away. 

“He’s not alright today,” he said quietly. “I think his parents called earlier and he’s been off ever since.” 

She hated that Will knew about Steve’s difficulties with his family. Mainly because she was aware that the only reason he knew what to look out for was because of his experience with Lonnie and how he’d treated them all. 

“Has he said anything about it?” she asked quietly. 

Will just shook his head, reaching around her to grab an apple from the bowl. “No, but when does he ever?” 

Her son disappeared off outside again with a shout at Lucas to stop hogging something. 

She watched Steve carefully, taking in his dejected shoulders and the way his lips were turned downwards. It had been a while since she had seen him look so despondent. It made her worry as she recalled the last time being the time that Jim had brought him home in the middle of the night and admitted to her that he’d been terrified that the kid had been planning to jump off the quarry. 

All she could think was that she couldn't face another of her kids being found there. Because he was one of hers now and Joyce Byers would put her life on the line for those she cared about. 

“How you doing, Steve?” she asked, pretending for his sake not to see the things that he was clearly trying to hide. 

“Oh, uh, I’m alright, Mrs. Byers,” he stammered out, seemingly being yanked back to reality by her voice. 

“Just Joyce,” she reminded him - as she had to every day, as he always reverted back to ‘Mrs. Byers’ as though he thought she would change her mind or it was a secret challenge. 

“Joyce,” he corrected himself with a small smile that wasn't entirely convincing to either of them. 

“You sure you're alright, Love?” she asked. “You seem… sad.” 

Steve nodded again, a slight bob of his head that would have been missed if she wasn't already expecting it. She was ready to concede with a reminder that if he ever wanted to talk she’d listen when he sighed and shook his head suddenly. 

“I can't come to dinner tomorrow,” he blurted out. 

“You can't?” she asked. “Aw, that’s a shame, we’ll miss having you.” 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ll miss being here.” 

“Did you pick up another shift at work?” she asked, pretending not to know about the phone call with his parents - she had a sneaking suspicion that the two were related but she wouldn't force Steve to open up. 

Instead of forcing him, she would hold her hand out and pray that he took it. 

The weeks of gentle love and care seemed to be paying off. 

“No, I uh- my parents,” he muttered. “They’re coming home tonight.” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said without an ounce of sincerity. 

“Yeah.” 

“They don't know that you come here do they?” she asked. 

Steve shook his head before his eyes suddenly widened and he turned even paler - which was an impressive feat in itself. “Not that I'm embarrassed or ashamed of you guys, I swear that’s not the case.” 

“I never thought it was, Love,” she said softly before gently placing a hand on either of his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. He towered over her but had the aura of a child in desperate need. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Don't you ever be sorry for doing what it takes to survive,” she said firmly, hating how his eyes widened in surprise and fear. He knew she knew and it obviously terrified him. “We love you, Steve, no matter what. And if you ever need a safe place to stay - whether it's a night or a year - you come here, alright?” 

He nodded silently. 

She pulled him in, holding him tightly as his breaths came in short, shuddering gasps against her shoulder. Neither mentioned the dampness she could feel or the fact he’d held it together so well until he was finally hugged. 

If he’d been born in her household a simple hug wouldn't have broken him because he would have been used to the feeling. 

Joyce remembered her question earlier about whether they were part of the new family that Steve was building for himself and decided then and there that they were. There was no way she would allow him to continue without the love and support he deserved. 

Chapter Text

Three - Claudia 

Claudia was eternally grateful for the existence of Steve Harrington. 

She had been a little judgemental at first, wondering if he was anything like his mother who was a bit of a… well, bitch. She had been a few years below Claudia at school but she’d still been on the receiving end of her vitriol and mean spirit. 

So when she had noticed her Dustybun being driven around by Steve Harrington of all people, she was hesitant. But then Steve helped Dustin get ready for his little school dance, even going as far as to bring over hair products for him to use and then gift them to her child. It was a kindness she wouldn't have expected from a Harrington. 

Slowly, Steve gained her trust. 

He always turned up without fail and he had never let her or her son down. That made him nothing like his parents which was the final straw that broke any lingering doubts she might have had. 

She wasn't a fool either, she knew that his parents were rarely in town and she knew that whilst it was a lonely way to live, he was probably better off without them. After all, she knew that he spent most nights with Joyce and the Chief anyway and he had company in the kids and those two strange teens that hung around. The one who ran Dustin’s little group at school and the chatty girl Steve worked with. 

So really, Richard and Marie Harrington being present wouldn't add any benefit to Steve - not now, not when they had already done their damage. 

Instead, she would invite him over whenever she saw him and relish in the knowledge that whenever he wasn't with her, he was with Joyce. It was a comfort to know that their town had rejected the poison and saved the boy from his parents. 

“Mom?” Dustin was quiet - it was unusual.

“Yeah, Sweetiepie,” she was instantly concerned, mainly because of the worry in her son’s eyes. 

“Steve called, he’s gonna be late,” Dustin said. 

“Alright, that’s not the end of the world,” she said, although she had to admit that it was a bit unusual - that lad was strangely punctual for a teenager. “Why’s it making you frown?” 

“It’s not.” 

“I didn't raise a liar, Dustin Henderson!” 

“Alright, alright, jeez Mom!” Dustin muttered, rolling his eyes - that was more like him, the usual attitude was back but she could still see he was concerned. 

“Come on, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s probably nothing,” Dustin said quickly. “It’s just… I swear when he phoned to say he was running late I heard someone shouting and a door slamming.” 

Well, that didn't sound good, but she wasn't going to panic about it yet, not in front of her son who would then start freaking out big time. 

“Listen, I’m sure it’s nothing, probably the TV or something,” Claudia said, not believing her own words. “Did he say how late he would be?” 

“Uh, about fifteen minutes?” 

“See, that’s barely even late,” Claudia said. “Most people wouldn't even call about that, Steve’s just a good boy, so I’ll keep that Lasagne warm and if he isn't here in fifteen minutes we’ll call Hopper to check on him, alright?” 

“Alright,” Dustin said quietly, he still looked worried but Claudia was glad to see that her reassurances had helped slightly. 

When Steve appeared he was only twenty minutes late, but that extra five minutes had wreaked havoc on Claudia’s thoughts and she was starting to pick up the phone when she saw headlights. She had pictured every disaster scenario that she could while staring through the curtains at the empty road. 

She’d pictured a break-in at his house. 

His car lying in a ditch.

A hit and run. 

Him hitting ice and skidding into a lamppost. 

What she hadn't pictured though was Steve walking up to the house with a noticeable limp, a busted lip and a black eye. She had the door open before he had a chance to raise his hand to knock - he always knocked no matter how often she told him it wasn't necessary. 

“Sweetie…” 

Words failed her. What could she say? He had been hit by something but when she looked over his shoulder his car was in pristine condition. Obviously, it hadn't been a motor accident. 

“Oh, Steve, Honey, what happened to you?” She asked softly as she gently grasped his hand and pulled him inside. 

He was silent, trembling, looking as though he simultaneously wanted to spill every secret and seal his mouth shut forever. His mouth opened and shut a few times like a fish before finally remaining closed. He merely gave her a half smile and a tiny shrug. 

“Come on, come through to the kitchen,” she said quickly. “Let’s get you into a better light and see what we're dealing with.” 

“It’s nothing,” Steve mumbled and Claudia had to stop her hand from rising to her mouth in relief at hearing his voice. “It’ll heal on its own.” 

“Be that as it may, I would rather see that for myself, Love.” 

He did as he was told, following her through to the kitchen with his head ducking down as if to hide his wounds from her. That wouldn't do. She merely poked and nudged him into a chair and lifted his chin. 

He was right, there wasn't anything she could do to help the healing along. Nothing needed any hospital attention and she was no first aider, Steve had already cleaned himself up, the only thing that she would have been able to do. 

“You don't have to say anything about what happened,” Claudia said. “If you wanted to though, I will always be ready to listen - anytime, alright? Day or night.” 

“Alright,” Steve answered softly, relief appearing on his face. 

Was she making a mistake? 

Should she have forced a confession and called the Chief to arrest those heathens who were somehow allowed to call themselves parents? She didn't know, it was times like this when she missed her dear George. He would have known what to do, or at least been someone she could bounce her thoughts off. 

Still, she had at least given him a safe place to come and survive. That had to count for something surely? 

“Thank you,” Steve continued. “For not asking questions that is.” 

“Just tell me that you’ll be safe tonight,” Claudia asked. “If you don't think you will be, stay here, alright?” 

“I’ll be alright, I promise,” Steve said softly. “I’m going to drop Dustin off at Mike’s and then I’ll be heading over to Eddie’s for the night.” 

It was as much of a confirmation as she would get. He had confirmed that he would be safe by specifically saying that he wouldn't be going home. The danger was clearly at home. 

With that terrifying thought in her mind, she couldn't help but pull him into her embrace. She wasn't a tall lady so it helped that he was seated because it meant she could rest her chin on top of his head. She wondered as she held him when his mother had last hugged him - she supposed it was likely a long time ago.

It was no wonder she had seen a heaviness in his shoulders of late, the dark aura that cowed him and made her worry about his wellbeing. She knew she wasn't the only one looking out for him, but perhaps it was almost too late. Perhaps his parents had already done the damage.

“Look, Steve, I love you like you're my own,” Claudia said, “ and there’s not a single thing I wouldn't do for you so promise me something.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Don't let anyone make you feel less than,” she whispered. “Not even yourself. 

Four - Wayne 

Wayne wasn’t proud to admit that he had previously hated Steve Harrington well hate might have been a strong word but he had definitely disliked the boy. 

He’d seen him as a miniature version of his father; that snobby, rich bastard who cared only for himself and his bank account. So when Eddie had started bringing him around to the trailer, he had prepared himself for trouble. 

He was sure that the boy would have comments to make about the fact that they lived in a first of all but then he suspected that they would also be comments about the fact they bought cheap food or didn’t have private cleaners coming in, perhaps about how they had to take clothes to laundromat because they didn’t own their own washer or dryer. 

But Steve had never said anything of the sort. 

Never had Wayne seen any hint of disgust or derision. Never had Steve turned his nose up at food that was offered or demanded something different from them.

Eddie had tried to convince Wayne that Steve was a good guy, he’d sworn it up and down but Wayne just hadn't believed him. That boy had Richard Harrington in him, he knew it and he knew that Eddie had a crush. 

His nephew was the most obvious fucker in the world when he had a crush. He went all gooey and doe-eyed, it was sickening. Not because he was gay, no Wayne didn't give a rat’s ass about that, no what he cared about was his boy losing his goddamnned mind over a bad idea. Because that's what Steve was - he was a bad idea. 

That conviction would have had to be pried from his cold, dead hands. 

That was until Eddie came home in a frantic panic. 

“Wayne, Jesus fuck, thank fuck you’re still home, you have to help me,” Eddie rambled. “I can't get him out of the car.” 

“What in the holy hell are ya talkin’ about, Boy?” Wayne muttered, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he took in the panicked state of his lad and the suspicious smudge that looked an awful lot like blood streaked across his cheek. “Are ya hurt?” 

“No, no, no, it’s not my blood.” 

“It’s-” Wayne stubbed out his cigarette instantly, taking in the pale face of his nephew and the trembling of his hands. “What happened?” 

“I went to see Steve and Robin at work and some of Carvers’ pals were waiting outside for me to leave, they had a baseball bat and were gonna attack me, I… fuck Wayne, I think they were serious, I think they wanted to do some damage.” 

“Did they?” 

“No, no, Steve came out and taunted them away from me, I tried to help and stop them, but I couldn't,” Eddie rambled. “I couldn't do anything and they legged it and now he’s hurt and he’s in my van and I can't get him out so you have to help me, we need to get him inside because he saved my ass, Wayne.” 

“Alright, Son,” Wayne said, hauling himself to his feet and ignoring the ache in his bad leg. “Come on, let’s get him.” 

“Thank you,” Eddie gasped out before racing away, back to his van, Wayne presumed. 

“Getting too old for this shit,” Wayne muttered to himself. 

Wayne was horrified when he made it to the van and saw the state Steve was in. He wanted to turn around and forget that he had ever seen such a grisly sight but his conscience wouldn't allow it, not when his boy was fretting over him in a mess of flapping hands and muttered curses mixed with reassurances. 

“Son, he needs a hospital,” was all Wanye could say. 

“No!” 

Eddie’s insistence was immediate and would normally have left no room for argument but Wayne was standing outside in the cold as balls Indiana winter staring at the battered and bloodied son of the man who had bullied him all through high school. 

“Eds, listen, this is out of my capabilities, he needs a professional.” 

“He can't go to the hospital, Wayne, his-” Eddie broke off, biting his lip hard enough to turn it white. “Listen, it’s either us or I drop him off with Hop and Joyce.” 

“So drop him off there,” Wayne said, hating how callous he sounded. 

“Steve wouldn't want the kids to see him like this, please Wayne,” Eddie begged. 

Wayne huffed to himself and nodded, “fine, but if he dies in that trailer we’re fucked, I don't think you’ll get off on a second accusation, Son.” 

“Oh, so we're joking about that now?” Eddie snarked. 

“We are when you bring home battered rich boys.” 

They worked together, hauling Steve out of the van, the movement seemed to rouse him somewhat but not enough to make him useful. Instead, his head just lolled about while he muttered incomprehensible nonsense and made it ten times harder for them to get him inside. At least, Wayne kept telling himself it was incomprehensible nonsense because he was pretty sure he heard some explicit compliments directed towards his nephew that no man wanted to hear about someone he considered a son. 

Damned motherfucking Harringtons, was all Wayne could think as they clambered up the steps into the trailer looking like a nuclear mistake. 

Steve was conscious - just - but he was no more help than he would have been had he not been. Wayne thought that lugging along a dead weight wouldn't have been any harder than trying to keep Steve’s limp body upright and his legs from tangling with either of his supports’.

“I swear takin’ him to the hospital would’a been easier than this,” Wayne muttered as they let Steve fall onto Eddie’s bed ungracefully. 

He landed with a soft ‘oof’ and curled in on himself, likely curling around himself because of pain, not because he was comfortable. 

“Jesus, Eddie, what the fuck?” Wayne asked.

“I know, I know,” Eddie muttered, burying his fists in his curls while staring at Steve with a panic that made him look twelve years old all over again. 

“I want answers, Son,” Wayne said. “If I’m getting involved in whatever this bullshit is, I wanna know why?” 

“I told you about the guys-” 

“No,” Wayne said, his voice hard and leaving no room for argument. “Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Son, you know that wasn't what I was meanin’. I wanna know why we ain’t takin’ him to the hospital?” 

Eddie swallowed heavily. “Shit, Wayne, this is… listen, I know you wanna know, alright? But telling you would break a promise I made.” 

“What kinda promise would put you in this situation?” 

“Fine, but you can't tell Steve you know, alright?” Eddie asked. “At least, not until I have a chance to tell him myself.” 

“You got a deal,” Wayne said with a nod. “I’ll get some water and cloths and you can tell me everythin’ while we clean him up and see what we’re dealin’ with.” 

Wayne was grateful for the opportunity to get out of that room. He didn't want to stare at the battered and bloody boy or witness the raw fear and concern on his nephew’s face. He didn't want to accept the possibility that maybe he’d gotten things wrong in his assumptions. 

He just had to hope this didn't bite them all in the ass. 

When he returned to Eddie’s room, Wayne saw that his nephew had somehow managed to wrangle Steve’s sweater off and the boy was lying there covered in dark blossoming messes of black and purple. 

“Fuck,” was all he could utter as he took in the damage. 

“I think they were trying to kill him,” Eddie admitted. 

“Why’d they stop?” Wanye asked. 

Eddie took the question the wrong way, his hackles raising as he shuffled himself so that he was between them and partially blocking Wayne’s view of the damage. 

“Oh put your dick away, Son,” Wayne muttered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“What did you mean then?” Eddie asked. 

“Well, this kind of determination to hurt doesn't just stop, so either they got spooked and ran or someone stopped them.” 

“Robin started yelling that she’d called the cops and they were on their way.” 

Wayne snorted humourlessly, “aye, I suppose that’d do it.” 

Wayne managed to get past his son and began scrubbing at the dried smears of flaking blood as gently as he could, the rusty smell of iron filled the small room and every now and then a crease would appear between Steve’s eyebrows that Eddie would gently smooth away. 

“He’s still on his parents' insurance,” Eddie said. “He’s trying to find his own, something with good coverage that he can afford but it’s not easy.” 

“Preaching to the goddamn choir here, Lad,” Wayne muttered. “Why would that matter though? If he’s on their insurance and he’s hurt then he might as well take advantage of it. I'm guessing that the Harringtons have the best plan available.” 

You know why, his mind whispered nastily as he remembered how Steve avoided coming over when Wayne was home, Eddie had said it was nothing, just Wayne’s unwelcoming disposition. 

“Yeah, but they don't want him to use it.” 

“They… what?” 

“The only reason he’s still on their insurance is because they’re all about appearances and they think that if someone found out they’d removed Steve then they’d look deeper and…”

“And?” 

“And they’d find out about all the times Steve was left alone to fend for himself before he was even tall enough to reach the stove without a stool. Or they’d discover the time CPS was sent around to his house after his homeroom teacher saw bruises around his neck only for that teacher to lose their job and the CPS worker to chalk it up to ‘boys being boys’.” 

“Bruises?” 

Wayne closed his eyes, he could picture it so vividly - the wide-eyed, terrified look on the kid’s face, the black eye that had swollen shut, the rumbling pangs of hunger that echoed through a room,  the loud, boisterous laugh and jokes that were overcompensating for the silence that coated the horrors at home. 

He could picture it because he’d seen it. He’d seen it for himself when Eddie had been brought to his trailer all those years ago. Something that was meant to be temporary but Wayne decided then and there that his boy would never be back in that situation. 

“What would they do?” Wayne asked, resuming his gentle dabbing with a shaking hand. “If they found out that he’d used their insurance.” 

Eddie snorted, it was a hollow sound that seemed to echo within Wayne’s chest. “Steve has only told me bits and pieces but it was enough to know that their reaction would make this look like a playfight.” 

Wayne had been afraid of that and as he looked at Steve he mentally tried to figure out how much it would cost and how quickly he could just add the boy to his own shitty insurance. 

Too much and too long were his answers. 

“Well, I guess we’re in this together,” Wayne muttered. “Do you think he’d ever press charges on his parents?” 

“Nah, he knows that they’d kick him out instantly.” 

“He has other options though, I thought you said he was close with the Chief?” 

“He is but the thing about Stevie is that he thinks he’s a burden,” Eddie said, running a hand through Steve’s blood-matted hair. “He won't put himself on anyone even though he’s had multiple offers. Hopper and Joyce, Claudia Henderson, hell I’m pretty sure the Wheelers would even have him despite him and Nancy breaking up.” 

Don't say it, don't you dare say it. 

“Well, I guess you can add us to that list too,” Wayne muttered. 

You had to fucking say it. 

“Aw, Wayne, you and your bleeding heart,” Eddie muttered with a teasing smirk. “You really can't help yourself, can you? You’re collecting strays.” 

“Keep talking, Boy, and I’ll take you back to the pound,” Wayne muttered.

He dropped the last rag and took in the mess before him. The bruises were… bad, but with the blood cleaned away, most of the cuts seemed superficial. That was good, there was fuck all he’d be able to do for them otherwise.

“What now?” Eddie asked. 

I don't know. 

“I suppose we keep an eye on him,” Wayne said. “I’ve done what I can but if he gets worse we call for a professional, alright?” 

Eddie bit his lip.

“Eddie,” Wayne prompted. 

“Fine, alright, if he gets worse, we call for help.” 

-

It had been a long night, Wayne could probably count on two fingers the number of hours of sleep he’d got in total but finally, when the sun rose and the smell of coffee started to filter through the trailer, he felt like they’d turned a corner. 

“I hope that’s the extra strong roast,” he muttered tiredly as he padded into the kitchen in sock-clad feet. 

“Oh, uh, I didn't check, I’m sorry, Sir,” Steve stammered as he grabbed the bag of coffee and started squinting at it. 

“Shit, I thought you were Eds,” Wayne muttered. 

The bruising looked worse today but the fact that Steve was upright and coherent was reassuring.

“No, Sir, sorry,” Steve said. “He’s still sleeping, I thought I’d let him rest but I can go get him if you want?” 

“No, no, let him sleep,” Wayne said. 

“Alright, uh, I can make you breakfast? If you want that is?” 

“No, no, sit down, Son,” Wayne noticed his eyes widen at the term of endearment. “I’ll put some toast in, alright? It’s nothing fancy but we have butter, jam or marmalade.” 

“Sounds great,” Steve said with a tiny smile.

Just do it, Munson. 

No. 

Do it!

I don't want to. 

Yes, you do! 

Ugh! Fine. 

“Kid…” 

Steve paused and turned to look at him, a confused glint in his eyes. 

“I know you don't know me that well and that’s my fault,” Wayne said. “I didn't do much to welcome you in here and I put too much of your daddy’s flaws onto your shoulders. I acted like an immature child and I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, uh, you don't have to apologise, Sir,” Steve said.

“I do,” Wayne said. “Please, Steve, you can call me ‘Wayne’, no more ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Munson’ alright?” 

“Alright,” Steve said with a tiny smile. 

“Good Lad,” Wayne said.

It wasn't a hug in the conventional sense. It was a quick, one-armed pull-in and a pat on the back. 

It shouldn't have made the kid light up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

It shouldn't have made Wayne’s heart squeeze in his chest. 

It shouldn't have made Eddie tear up in the doorway and duck into the bathroom before anyone noticed. 

It was barely anything. 

Damn it, I’m gonna have to hug this dang kid again, Wayne thought.

He couldn't quite bring himself to be annoyed by that though.