Work Text:
Adrenaline was seeping out of Steve’s body like blood, something that also seeped out of him, uniform and skin stained. He doesn’t remember how he got out of that base. All he knows is that he’s staring at the mall ceiling, on the floor. Words were blurring together, barely audible. More so than usual, at least.
He tried to hear out for Robin but couldn’t make out her voice, which was really fucking strange. He was always able to hear her.
He panicked, eyes scanning around. He couldn’t see clearly but easily recognized her uniform. She seemed awake, talking with Nancy.
They were waiting for someone, he thinks.
He can’t remember.
He couldn’t move much without pain, or without draining the limited energy he has. He can feel his blood sticking him to the floor.
No one was by him.
Which shocked him. And scared him.
Especially since Dustin and Erica got them out of that place. At least he thinks. He remembers Henderson’s voice.
But he didn’t know if it was before or after getting beaten and drugged to the point he’s probably dying.
Steve forced himself to try and sit, but there was no strength in his arms. He didn’t want to die in Starcourt Mall, much less drugged out of his mind in a pool of his own blood.
None of the kids - not like he’d want them to see him like this - are around. And none of the other teens come to his aid. He didn’t expect it exactly.
But it hurt more than being unable to sit up.
He resigns to lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus, to stay awake. He thinks he heard something about the Chief.
The teens apparently made it around at some point. Henderson was sitting by his side nearly immediately, trying to put pressure on his wounds to stop the blood.
There was a lot. Of blood, of wounds. He couldn’t stop the original cry of pain at the pressure. Dustin apologized, at least that’s what he thinks.
The kid’s hands don’t move until they’re moved off by someone else. By then, Steve was almost out, eyes drooping shut.
He shouldn’t be alive.
He was helped up, at least in a sitting position. It was a new voice that spoke, but he couldn’t figure out who.
Opening his eyes was exhausting work, but seeing Hopper, he knew he was safe.
“There you go, kid.” Hopper smiled a bit, seeing that he was awake and alive.
Steve forces a smile that doesn’t even look close to normal. The beatings he took caused more damage than he was aware of.
Voices started to blend again. He wanted to pass out. Hopper directed him to stay awake, so he tried.
It was harder than he expected.
“We’re gonna need to get you to a hospital, kid.”
He heard “hospital” and his eyes went wide. He shook his head so fast that it started to pound. Somehow tears didn’t come. He was adamantly against going to a hospital, especially after what he just went through.
He doesn’t realize he’s shaking.
Hopper holds his shoulders, firm, causing pain purely due to the damage on his skin. The moment the older man saw the pain show on his face, he let go, moving his hands to a visibly uninjured spot.
“They’d be your best bet, Harrington.”
He still shook his head. Nope, no way in hell.
Hopper looked annoyed but also understanding, in a way.
“Okay. We’ll check you out at the cabin, but if I can’t help, we’re going to the hospital. No one wants you dead, kid.”
Steve fought to roll his eyes. Really, all he caught was the mention of the cabin, and the hospital. His sight cleared a bit so it was easier to lip-read. He’d gotten better at that since getting hit over the head by Billy last year.
He didn’t have it in him to argue, so, he was fine with that, he supposes. He just hopes he won’t need to go to the hospital.
Without another word, he’s picked up. He can feel Hopper talking, being held like he was. He could feel eyes on him, nearly everyone’s. Hopper was incredibly commanding, so it made sense they’d focus on him. But that means they focused on him, too. How hurt he was, how Hopper’s arms were now stained with his blood, how he was so close to passing out even though he was encouraged not to.
He passes out before they even leave the mall.
He dreams of that superhero kid talking to him. Eleven, he thinks her name is. Recalling her name is hard, but he can remember she’s Hopper’s kid.
It’s the clearest words he’s heard since getting out of that base. She’s checking that he’s alive. She says to trust Hopper, too. Which he does, more than he trusts his own father.
She says he can help him. He trusts that.
He wakes up with all of his injuries exposed. It shoots him into a panic that nearly leads to his head bashing into Hopper’s. Hands are on his arms and he can vaguely hear words, he thinks they’re supposed to be comforting.
He ends up just wiping his tears aggressively. He is trying to read his lips.
Hopper eventually puts two-and-two together, thinking for a few moments. He finds something to write with, scribbling out the situation on the paper, helping Steve wipe his eyes.
It took a while for tears to stop flowing.
Just checking your wounds out, nothing was done yet. Didn’t think in the moment about how you’d react when you woke up.
Steve appreciated the honesty, trying to hide his injuries. Hopper doesn’t write again, not just yet at least, or asks how this all happened.
Steve was covered in drying blood, wounds all over his torso, mixed with bruises and some needle marks. He doesn't even know all of it.
Ok.
He hands the notebook back. His handwriting is a mess, like he wrote with his opposite hand despite the fact he didn’t.
Can I patch you up? I apologize in advance but it will hurt.
Steve nods. He doesn't write again.
Hopper seems to apologize again. Steve wishes his ears would stop ringing so loud.
The wounds on his face are cleaned first, mostly just a bloody nose and various smaller injuries. Hopper seems almost glad to see that at least his face isn’t so bad. Steve still thinks at least something may scar. And that his nose is broken.
His torso is next, so much worse. Steve tries to keep his mouth shut even as he wants to cry out in agony, at least for El’s sake if no one else’s. He fails, and miserably.
Hopper works fast. His own arms are covered in blood, though. Steve’s blood.
His arms are last. Cuts circle his wrists from handcuffs, thicker than around his upper arms where he was tied to the chair, and to Robin.
Hopper looks at him with pity.
Steve hates it.
Bandages are placed there first. Bandage wrap secured carefully to itself, hiding the evidence that might never leave his skin.
His torso is next.
Then, his hands. Hopper almost missed those. Each finger is bandaged after being disinfected. That’s when Steve cries, heartbreaking sobs of pure pain. He can’t hear it but Hopper apologizes a thousand times over as he disinfects and bandages each finger.
By then, El’s sat by his head. He can’t hear if she says anything but he senses her presence, a hand offered.
He catches sight of a needle, nothing like in a syringe but a needle nonetheless, and quickly takes her hand. It hurts to move so fast.
He feels like a child.
Hopper looks at him, and he sees the unmistakable fear in his eyes.
The notebook is picked up again. Hopper writes, and hands it to Steve.
Some wounds need stitching. I won’t do anything other than that. It’ll help healing.
Logically he knows that. But it scares him.
Hopper does take the notebook back to add one thing. You don’t have to look.
That soothes him a bit. And he wants this over with. So he nods, deciding to just “man up” even if he’s scared as all hell. El squeezes his hand. Careful to not hurt him.
And Hopper prepares the needle and thread.
Steve doesn’t look. He grits his teeth in pain, only breathing between each section of stitching.
Most of his torso ends up in bandages.
His face doesn’t need stitching, but a few bandages are placed on his cheeks and forehead.
El touches his hair. It’s soothing.
He’s nearly passed out again by the end of all this.
What stops him from actually passing out, somehow, is being moved. El is helping him sit up, and one of Hopper’s jackets is wrapped around him.
The notebook is written in again by Hopper.
You’re going to need monitoring but you should be okay. I’d suggest staying up. El said Dustin told her you got drugged.
He nods, but looks like he won’t end up actually staying up. He’s helped to stand, and led into a room. The spare room, he bets. There’s clean clothes sitting there. They definitely are Hopper’s.
Once alone, Steve tugs them on, glad they’re easy to put on. He still struggles, but less than expected.
He puts the jacket back on and lies on the bed.
He’s scared.
He’s alone and scared. Even if he’s not really alone and can vaguely hear footsteps and voices over the dining in his ears.
Pretty soon though, Hopper’s there.
Steve’s eyes are barely open.
He’s handed the notebook again, though.
Thought being alone wouldn’t be great. If you want me to go, you can tell me.
Steve looks for a pencil before realizing there’s one on the spirals of the book.
Stay.
Hopper nods. He stays, sitting on the bed, giving Steve space.
Steve settles with a bit of help, lying down. He’s slightly propped up, laid on his side. Just in case, or something like that. Steve didn’t understand in the moment.
Hopper’s presence helps him rest. It’s not long before he’s out, but he wakes up not that long later, puking his guts out.
Hopper had half the mind to grab a bucket, and Steve somehow managed to aim well enough. His hair gets in his face and Hopper is holding him to keep him from falling.
Steve slumps forward once he’s done vomiting, looking twice as weak. Hopper moved to sit in front of him, wiping his face. His hair was clean, gladly, and Hopper carefully pinned it back.
He’d offered to brush Steve’s teeth, and Steve nodded before the thoughts of weakness hit.
He doesn’t tell Hopper that he was having a nightmare before he shot awake. Of seeing Robin dead, of her tied to him, a slowly cooling corpse.
He didn’t think until the moment he was spitting toothpaste into the puke bucket that he was nearly that cooling corpse tied to Robin.
He’s glad neither of them died.
And he’s also glad his mouth doesn’t taste like vomit.
He curls into himself the minute Hopper leaves his side. It’s like he’s protecting himself.
Hopper sits back where he sat earlier, once again being such a comforting presence.
But he doesn’t sleep, picking at the bandages around his fingertips until Hopper stops him.
He doesn’t try again.
The notebook is soon held in front of him.
Rest, Steve.
Except he can’t. He needs to but it feels impossible. Even if he’s so out of it that actually staying awake is actively impossible.
It takes hours. At least it feels like it does. But eventually, Steve’s out.
Hopper doesn’t sleep. Not even a wink. He watches Steve, making sure he’s breathing. It’s helpful that Steve snores.
El eventually makes her way into the room, deciding to help keep an eye on Steve too.
Hopper tells her to head back to sleep, but she doesn’t. She sits and watches. Steve just snores away. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t even move.
He’s visibly alive and breathing.
El eventually falls asleep. She sticks close to Steve, taking the spare space in the giant bed as her own. The bed wasn’t made for three people but it’s not the end of the world.
Steve doesn't know that El is there. He probably wouldn’t be able to compute it immediately, either.
He wasn’t used to care. Not like this.
But here he was, with people who cared.
His body sensed it.
He was safe for the first time…ever, really.
He wakes up with the thought of asking to stay.
He doesn’t end up asking. Hopper tells him he’s staying at the cabin at least until he’s healed.
Steve can live with that.