Chapter Text
Steve was doing pretty good, all things considered.
Sure, he had fought monsters and been tortured by an evil underground government, and yes, he had gotten the shit beat out of him a few too many times- but he was pretty happy with how his life was turning out.
Look at it the way he did;
He had the best best friend he could everp ask for. He and Robin did practically everything together and that was how they liked it.
He had the little brother he had always sorta wanted in Dustin, the kid could be a real brat sometimes, but that was a side effect of just being plain smarter than most people in Hawkins.
He had the rest of the kids too, Max and Will and Eleven and Lucas and Erica and even Mike, even if he pretended to hate him sometimes.
He had a job that wasn’t. . . Well it wasn’t bad. He wasn’t slinging ice cream all day and he made enough money not to struggle and he did it with Robin who, as he said before, kinda his favorite person in the world.
Or at least, he thought he had a good job. Good enough for him at least. His parents? Not so much.
September was almost half over now, Halloween just around the corner. Steve hadn’t seen his parents since the first week of March, and he hadn’t talked to them since May 17th, three days before his high school graduation. He only remembered the date because; it was three days before his graduation, and it was certainly a memorable phone call when your parents called to say they might not make it.
“Your father is a very busy man Steven, he has a lot going on right now as the first quarter of the year wraps up; but we are doing our best”
They hadn’t made it, but at the time he had appreciated his mothers uncanny ability to act like the life she had chosen (far, far away from him) seemingly pained her more than he could imagine in his young eighteen years of life.
He had done his best to find a job after high school, but with his less than stellar grades it had been a losing battle from the start. He didn’t think he was the sort of guy that went to college, and at this rate that would stay true. His parents hadn’t called him since that day, and he had to assume they probably didn’t want to know what sort of lackluster job he had found, so that they could keep pretending to their friends and clients that he was actually amounting to something.
Didn’t he say he was doing good? Oh well, he was doing good to him regardless of how his parents felt or what they said about him.
Or at least, he had been doing well. until his father called.
It was a rare day that Steve was actually home alone all afternoon. No work, Robin was at band practice, and the kids had their own little game or hangout happening somewhere else.
So when the phone did ring, it actually startled him.
He scrambled up from his spot on the living room couch, and took the four large steps into the kitchen where the yellow phone was about to ring itself right out of the cradle.
“Hello?” He asked, a bit confused. No one should be needing to call him this time of day.
“Steven, this is your father”
He straightened up on instinct, a sort of protective stance in the face of someone he couldn’t even see. ”Oh- Dad? Are you- are you and Mom okay?”
“Of course we are. I was calling to let you know that your mother and I have finally made the decision that we’re not coming back to Hawkins.”
Steve choked on his spit, coughing embarrassingly as he moved the phone away from himself. He recovered as quick as he could.
“What? What do you mean? You’re just- not coming back?”
His father made the sort of noncommittal noise Steve hated. It was a noise that could mean a million different things, and it was the one time his father wasn’t blunt and to the point.
“Yes. With the climate in Hawkins these days we feel that we’re better off staying out here closer to New York and the trade market. Take that mall for example, it couldn’t even last half a year before it burned down. If Hawkins can’t keep a shopping mall standing then it’s really best I move my business permanently.”
Flashes of Starcourt passed through Steve’s mind unbidden. He was hardly aware of his own voice, quiet in his empty kitchen.
“I was there…”
“What did you say? Honestly Steven your phone manners are atrocious, speak up for god’s sake”
Rage came to him, sudden and uncontrollable- if his parents weren’t coming back, why not unleash some of his thoughts from the last year?
”I said I was there. I worked in the mall Dad, and I worked the day it burned down. I barely got out trying to save me and my friends. The hospital said they called you. And you didn’t answer.”
The line was only quiet for a moment, and then Steve’s father was trying to make excuses.
“Well son, that was months ago. I don’t know why you didn’t call sooner. Now I hardly see why it matters.”
Steve laughed at that, ‘it hardly matters’ felt like a knife twisting through his heart.
“It matters because it happened! And I did call you. You didn’t answer. And then you moved hotels. And then your assistant picked up and said you were busy. Busy busy busy. Too busy for your own kid!”
“Steven that’s enough-”
“No! No it’s not! You weren’t here when Starcourt burned down, and you weren’t here when I got attacked by Billy Hargrove last year, and you weren’t here when I graduated high school! ” He choked on a sob, tears running down his face and hitting the linoleum below.
“ Why? Why was I never enough? Why was work always more important? I’m sorry I didn’t turn out how you wanted- but- but was that really enough to stop loving me over?” his voice waivered, his crying audible over the phone. The line was so quiet, for a moment Steve thought his father had hung up.
“Your Mother and I do love you Steven. I’m sorry you feel that we don’t, but you’re an adult now, surely you will understand how much responsibility it is to provide for a family.”
Steve took a deep breath. He felt just a bit better after airing out his grievances, but he was getting nowhere talking to his father, and he was so so tired of trying to make the older man care.
“You could have given me hand-me-downs every year, never bought me a car or a birthday present my whole life, if you had just showed up. If you had been there anytime I needed you, money would never have mattered.” He sighed.
“You’re moving. That’s that then. What about the house?”
His father cleared his throat, he sounded almost surprised at Steve’s sudden switch.
“Yes, well, your mother and I wanted to leave you the house for at least the next few years. Once you've settled down on your own we'll sell it”
‘Once you've settled down’ the implications of that statement made Steve a little nauseated. He hated thinking of when he was so desperate to be happy he would do whatever it took to be that guy with the wife and six kids and the white picket fence.
He hadn’t been that guy for a long time.
“Should I expect you to call again then? Do you even have anything here that you want to get?” other than him of course.
“We will be making arrangements to ship anything we think of. I suppose I’ll call you again when we make that decision as well.”
“Okay. Bye Dad.” Steve said shortly. He was tired, and he didn’t want to keep dragging this out.
“Steven . . .” his father sounded as tired as he was, though why he wouldn’t know.
“yea?” he clenched the phone tight in his hand as he leaned forward until he could rest his aching forehead against the wall.
“Your mother and I will call you soon.”
He sighed. That’s what they said when he was thirteen. And then sixteen, and now here he was; eighteen and burdened with more than they’d ever know, and still it felt like a hollow promise.
“Sure, Dad. Bye.” and he put his hand over the hook, disconnecting the phone even as it dropped to the floor.
He felt like he’d run a mile and then fought a demogorgon. Something deep and raw was climbing its way up through his chest and into his throat. He cried out as he turned, pressing his back tight against the wall for some sort of relief from the pain in his chest. Breathing hard and fast as he slid down to the floor as his legs just got too tired to hold him up. The floor was more comfortable anyway, he decided. As his hands came up to hold onto his hair and his knees bent into him with some sort of hope at protecting him from an invisible threat. His sobs shook his whole body. and this time, he finally let himself cry, really truly crying over every overwhelming emotion he felt.
He cried for the people he wished his parents were, for the Steve he was before fighting Jonathan and monsters from hell, for who was becoming as Hargove smashed a plate over his head, his kids screaming for him. He cried for who he had wanted to be before Robin and him had been trapped underneath Starcourt by the Russians. The same Starcourt that burned down around them.
He just kept crying. Years of pain and resentment rising up in a wave that wanted to sweep him away. He let it take him as he tried to breathe through his tears.
It could have been minutes or hours when he finally felt drained of everything. He was all out of tears, sitting there on the cool kitchen floor, he decided he would just close his eyes for a moment and then maybe, just maybe, he’d feel a little better in a while.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Steve woke up in a cacophony of noise. Rain was pouring in heavy sheets outside, as he stumbled to consciousness, a half of a shout still on his lips from a nightmare he couldn't remember. He was laying on the cold tile of his kitchen, next to him his phone was ringing, plastic rattling against the ground where he had dropped it. He could hear his walkie talking going haywire in the living room and someone was trying to tear his front door down the way they were pounding on it. He gasped, breathing heavily as he tried to gather his thoughts.
Finally, the door gave- or more accurately, Robin had finally gotten her key to work.
“STEVE!?!- where are you?!?!”
“Robin?” He croaked out, still on the floor of the kitchen. He was suddenly aware of his heart pounding, his head aching.
Robin came around the corner in a whirlwind, rain drops flying out from her jackets and arms flailing. She still had her shoes on, tracking water on the tile. Her face was pale and her hair was completely soaked, stuck down to her head and the sides of her face.
“Steve! Oh my god we've been worried sick!”
He could only look up at her confused, “what?” His voice cracked. He sounded terribly, and he privately wished he had some water.
“You! You didn't come pick me up after band practice! So I called and called and the phone kept saying busy but I knew something was wrong! And no one could get a hold of you on the walkie- so I- I biked as fast as I could in this weather.” She gasped, catching her breath.
“What's wrong? You look terrible”
Steve sniffed hard, letting out a breath.
“It's-uh- it's kinda a long story. But you- you biked all the way here? Rob you've gotta be freezing.”
She shivered at that, like him pointing it out had made her aware that she was soaked from the journey over.
Steve jumped to his feet, black spots clouding his vision immediately. His head throbbed in protest as he threw his arm out to the wall to stabilize himself.
”woah- okay, okay. You go take a hot shower and change and I’ll- I’ll, drink some water and wait down here I think.”
Robin looked at him for a long moment, seemingly deciding if she could leave him alone for that long. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him tight.
He hugged back, grateful for her presence even as her wet clothes started to dampen his own. When she stepped away, she shivered again even as she made the universal gesture for ‘I’m watching you’
“I’ll be right back okay? Don’t die.”
Steve nodded, “I got it.”
Robin darted off towards the stairs, and Steve turned around, picking the phone up from the floor and setting it back down on the hook.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time it had taken Robin to take a hot shower and change into her pajamas, Steve had managed to calm the multitude of children trying to radio him that he was okay, he’d just fallen asleep. Then he got a pot of hot chocolate going on the stove and rinsed his face off in the kitchen sink. It only made him feel a tad better, but he took several Tylenol and sipped on a large glass of water and waited for it to do the trick.
Now he and Robin were sitting on the kitchen floor, hot chocolate half drank and the events of the last few hours out to someone else. He did feel better now that he had told Robin everything that had happened.
“So . . .” Robin picked at a loose thread on her pajamas, “how do you feel about moving out?”
“I don't know” he took a sip from his mug, “I've lived here my whole life. Sure it's never been as lively as I wanted it to be but- it's home” he shrugged.
“What if it could be?”
”What do you mean?”
”Well, let’s think of it like this-“ Robin spread her arms, gesturing out with big motions, “Yes, it sucks that your folks just decided to move away so suddenly- But! Think about the possibilities! If they’re not gonna come back, then there’s no reason to keep the house looking the way it is!”
Steve nodded along, finally starting to get the big picture. Robin was right- if his parents weren’t coming back, then there wasn’t anything stopping him from decorating the house he wanted.
Growing up, he had hated the way the living room somehow felt cold and unlived in. The dining room was oppressive, the kitchen barebones, and lately his bedroom walls had been giving him headaches if was in there too long.
Robin did always have something to say about the plaid wallpaper.
“yeah . . . Yeah you’re right!”
“-uh- I am? I mean I am! But, I didn’t really think you’d go for it.”
He tilted his head at her in confusion, ”why not?”
“Welllll” Robin drawled, “I think you actually have a fear of change”
”what?”
”I’m just saying! I think you have deep seated problems with change you can’t control, or receiving sudden or unexpected change.”
He blinked at her incredulously. He turned the thought over in his mind and hated how she kind of did have a point. “Okay, I’m not unpacking all of that. Let’s talk more about how we’re gonna change this whole place.”
”Wait- we? like as in ‘us’!?!” She jumped up.
“Of course” Steve finally stood from the floor, he felt lighter now, as he reached a hand down to help robin up. “I’ll need help from the best decorator I know”
She took his hand, as he could feel her almost vibrating now with an infectious sort of energy.
”I can’t wait to be rid of that plaid wallpaper.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Steve had been little enough that his parents actually had to be in Hawkins, (or be forced to hire a nanny) he vaguely remembered his mother’s craft room. She had spent much of her time there, and often barred him and his father from ever entering.
Now as an adult, he realized that she had probably been hiding from both of them.
Still, the craft room was just as she’d left it. It was dusty, and stale, but still full of ribbon and paper and oddly shaped scissors that cut patterns. Most importantly however, it had catalogs.
Robin told him the best part about decorating your space was planning it all out beforehand, it was like seeing a sneak peak of the end goal. So that’s just what he did. He and Robin spent hours cutting and gluing together all sorts of different layouts portraying some of the things he’d want in a house that was all his.
He wanted a room for Dustin, the kid was the little brother he had always begged for, and he had actually been coming over a lot lately, Steve having become Claudia Henderson’s go-to babysitter even as Dustin was entering high school. He also wanted to make a room for Max. He hadn’t seen her as much after Starcourt, but when he did it was obvious she was struggling; he wanted to create a space for her when and if she ever needed it.
He wanted that for all his kids.
He wanted to get more blankets and pillows for the living room, and a shelf for his growing movie collection. The dining room never got used, so as much as he struggled to understand their game he figured the kids would love to play DnD in there all the time.
After a while, Robin looked up at him from a sea of scrap paper and home design magazines.
“What about you?”
”Huh?”
”Steve, you’ve figured out all the things you wanna do except for your room. What would you wanna change?”
And . . . Steve actually wasn’t sure at first. He thought about how much he disliked his wallpaper, his trophy shelf that hadn’t been added to since junior year. He really didn’t have much of anything.
He leaned back on his hands and looked across the floor at her.
“I think . . . You think we could move my stuff to the guest room next to it? Just completely restart my whole room?”
”Steve!!!! That’s a great idea! If you wanna do it then that’s what we’ll do!”
They stepped out into the hall to get a lay of the upstairs. The Jack and Jill rooms could be for Dustin and Max, and they could move Steve into the guest suite next to those rooms. Then, with Steve’s old room; they could put beds in there for the rest of the kids whenever they came over.
Steve stood in the middle of the guest suite. Shockingly enough, there was only a plain queen-sized bed with white sheets, and a dark wooden dresser against the wall with a single matching nightstand. It already felt like a fresh start to Steve. The walls were white, but Robin had told him they could get paint and have a party, and he liked the idea of inviting all the kids over and having them help him make this place a real home.
The Harrington Home.
He finally liked the sound of that.