Work Text:
Staring down into the murky depths of his pool, Steve could feel nausea rising in his stomach. He remembered hearing about Barb’s death, how she disappeared into his pool and never made it back. He remembered, the night after facing the demogorgon himself, how his memories mixed with Barb’s. How he imagined what her final moments were like; alone and injured in a place worse than hell, face to face with a monster worse than he could have ever imagined, screaming for anyone to help her. His head still rang with those screams.
His parents were gone again, barely having stayed long enough to speak to him before they left on another trip together, his mother so drunk she barely recognised her own son. His father was as angry as ever at something Steve still didn’t know about. That’s how he found himself outside as the sun set. He couldn’t stand the still-lingering scent of his mother’s perfume or his father’s cigarettes that reminded him of his childhood and left a sour taste in his mouth.
Once the sun had set and the previously calm water in front of him turned murky, his attention turned. The memories of the hell he’d been through never left his mind, always lingering in his mind’s peripheral vision until he closed his eyes, but in that moment it felt as if he was choking on them.
Even as he stared into the depths, he couldn’t stop the tears that welled in his eyes that blurred the rippling reflections of the moon’s glow.
And then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a demogorgon. Steve barely had time to process what he was hearing when he was rushing inside and up the stairs to his room before wedging himself underneath his bed. Tears were flowing freely down his face as he shoved everything he could find in front of him, until his hand grabbed something solid and familiar.
A walkie-talkie.
He wiped the tears from his face hastily before turning it on, jumping at the static it produced.
“Is there anybody there?” he asked, before hastily adding an “over,” remembering Dustin’s insistent reminders.
After a few moments of silence, Steve was losing hope. Maybe he really was all alone.
“Who’s there?”
Steve recognised that voice. Deep and clipped but so welcoming.
Hopper.
“It’s me, Chief,” Steve replied softly, trying to hold onto the last resemblance of control he still had over his emotions.
“You’re on the wrong channel, kid,” Hopper replied, sounding a bit annoyed.
That confused Steve. A sob slipped out before he could stop himself.
“Hey, you okay?” Hopper’s voice was softer now.
“ ‘m scared,” Steve practically whispered, his fingers grazing over his lips as he tried desperately to resist the urge to suck his thumb.
“Okay kid, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Where’s ‘home’?”
Why was Hopper asking all these questions? He knew where he lived! Why wouldn’t he just come and save him?
“Home!” Steve whined back, “ ‘m at home, n i’m scared but everyone’s playing their game and the ’gorgon’s here!” With that, Steve promptly burst into tears.
It was silent for a moment and Steve was worried that Hopper had disappeared, until his voice rang out once again.
“Harrington?” Hopper sounded shocked.
“I don’ wanna die, Hopper,” Steve whispered.
“Okay bud, I’m on my way, okay? Where are you right now?” There was the sound of distant shuffling as Hopper talked.
“My room.”
“Stay right there, I’m coming.”
-
The sound of screeching tyres made Steve’s heart leap a bit. Hopper was here.
Soon, loud pounding could be heard at his front door, before a huge drash made Steve jump and whimper.
“Steve?” a voice shouted and the boy in question huddled further under his bed because the demogorgon was going to hear him!
For a moment, the only sounds were footsteps, and Steve counted the fact that he hadn’t heard screams yet as a positive. Then, his bedroom door slammed open, and he barely managed to muffle a whimper behind his hand.
“Steve, you here kid?” Hopper’s voice was warm and enticing, just as it had been over the walkie-talkie, but now he was here and Steve could feel his eyes welling up in relief.
He let a sob out, and intently footsteps were headed towards him. In no time, the face of Jim Hopper was staring at him from where he was squished under his bed.
“Hey there, kiddo,” Hopper spoke calmly, laying himself flat on the floor to get on Steve’s level. “Me and Joyce have looked all around and there’s no sign of any monsters. You’re safe Steve.”
That’s when Steve let go. He began crying in earnest then, great heaving sobs that shook his entire body and knocked the breath from his lungs.
It took a while for his cries to calm, with Hopper’s and Joyce’s reassurances helping massively. After some more gentle coaxing, Steve eventually shuffled out from under his bed, and was immediately swallowed by Joyce’s arms. The hug was firm and comforting, and Steve felt a little more tension seep from his body the longer it went on.
“Okay kiddo,” Hopper said as he placed a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder, “why don’t we go and grab you something to eat and drink, and we can settle down and watch a movie - how does that sound?”
Steve was quiet for a moment as he scanned both Hopper’s and Joyce’s faces, before deciding they were being genuine and agreeing. His quiet agreement got a smile from Hopper which made Steve’s tummy feel all squirmy in a good way. He couldn’t remember the last time an adult smiled at him so genuinely.
Armed with a glass of apple juice and a cheese sandwich (courtesy of Joyce and Hopper), the trio sat on a couch, Steve nestled snuggly between them. The boy noticed the curtains to the pool had been drawn, and his shoulders loosened as more tension flooded from him.
“Steve?” Joyce asked, rubbing her hand gently up and down Steve’s arm, “how old are you right now?”
Steve paused, and Joyce barely held back a coo when his face scrunched up in concentration. Popping up five fingers, Steve gave her a little smile.
“Such a big boy!” Joyce relished the way Steve’s face lit up before hiding in Hopper’s shoulder.
“Okay bud, what do you wanna watch - the land before time or the goonies?”
“Din’saus!” Steve cried.
“Great choice kiddo,” Hopper said softly as he combed Steve’s hair gently.
Even though Steve was asleep barely 20 minutes later, he still had a smile on his face.
