Chapter Text
“By the way, man, you and Suzie? You sounded great!” Steve grins at Dustin next to him on his couch, one of many so-far-fruitless attempts to see him smile. It's been at least two days, ever since the Starcourt battle, since Steve last saw his lovely, crinkled-up grin.
But Dustin doesn't smile; he just turns red and snorts a bit. “Thanks.”
“No, really! I just… I didn’t know you could sing like that, dude.”
Dustin huffs, turning away in embarrassment. “Yeah, no one does. But now you do. Only because the fate of the world literally depended on it, mind you. I wouldn’t have let you all hear that if I could help it…”
“Seriously? But why? It’s not like it’s something to be embarrassed about.”
Dustin fixes Steve with a look. “Have you met anyone in this town? Boys aren’t supposed to sing like that, Steve! Boys aren’t supposed to sing at all!”
Steve shakes his head. “Who told you that? Bullies?”
Dustin turns away again. “No. Like I said, no one else knows. But trust me, if they did? Then yeah. Bullies.”
Steve frowns, feeling a pang of grief. “Who told you that, Dustin? Where’d you hear that?”
Dustin picks at the hem of his shirt, looking down to avoid Steve’s gaze. Finally, he mumbles, “My dad.”
Steve gapes. “Your dad? He told you you shouldn’t sing?”
Dustin shrugs. “Yeah, I mean… ‘s girly. Faggy.”
“What bullshit! What a piece of shit! I’m gonna hunt him down, swear to god…”
Dustin looks taken aback by his vehemence. “Hardly the worst thing he’s done…”
All the air leaves Steve’s lungs, his stomach dropping leaden inside him. “What… what else has he done? What else did he say to you?”
Dustin winces. He glances up at Steve, then back down. “Said lots of stuff, Steve.” He pauses. “Hit me a couple times.”
Steve sees red. Blood is rushing in his ears. “What the fuck? What the fuck?” He doesn’t remember standing, but all of a sudden he’s on his feet, pacing. Fuming. He’s pulling at his hair; he’s punching one fist into the opposite palm. “Jesus… Christ… I need a minute,” he chokes out to Dustin, and all but bolts for the front door.
The outside air is crisp in the late summer evening, cooling Steve’s flushed cheeks. He gasps in deep breaths of it, trying to collect himself, but rage is building up in the back of his throat and the clench of his fists. He feels sick.
Here in the solitude of the front porch, out of sight from Dustin, he slams a hand down hard on the railing and lets a strangled, furious sound escape from behind his teeth. He thinks steam might start coming out of his ears any moment. His hands are trembling.
Dustin’s safe now, he tells himself. It’s okay. The bastard is gone, and Dustin is safe. He’s safe, he’s safe. Steve repeats it to himself over and over until he feels human again.
And as soon as he’s found all his thoughts—shit. He shouldn’t have lost control like that. He shouldn’t have run out of the room like that. He shouldn’t have left Dustin—
Steve rushes back inside, back into the living room, and sees Dustin curled into a tight ball against one corner of the couch. Steve can’t quite piece together the expression on his face.
He starts moving toward Dustin, and Dustin flinches.
Steve’s world freezes. The camera slows down, the tape skips, and the moment replays in Steve’s head, a hundred times in a split second. Steve moves towards Dustin. Dustin flinches. Steve approaches. Dustin shrinks. Steve is trying to get to him—he’s flinching away.
Everything narrows down to Dustin’s small body and the emotion in his eyes that Steve took just a second too long to identify. But when it hits him, it slams into him.
Fear. Fear of Steve. Oh, no. Oh nonono.
“I’m sorry,” Dustin chokes out wildly, panicked. “Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Hey, hey,” Steve says, voice gentle. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, Dust.” Steve tries to make himself as unthreatening as possible, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders to look smaller. He starts approaching again slowly, holding his hands out steady to show Dustin he means no harm.
Even as he does, he’s stuck watching Dustin flinch, again and again. He thinks that somewhere in his brain, that—the worst thing he’s ever done—will always be happening now.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, buddy, I’m so sorry.” Steve drops to his knees a short distance away from Dustin and crawls the rest of the way to crouch in front of him. He leaves his hands hovering in the air between them, not wanting to spook him again.
“Sorry,” Dustin mumbles again, and Steve can only imagine he’s apologizing for having been scared at all.
It feels like there’s a hand around Steve’s throat, around his heart, choking all the air out of him. He keeps his voice soft and pitched just slightly higher than usual. “No, no, shh, it’s okay. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m sorry I scared you, I just… I just hate that he hurt you. I’m sorry. I just got so angry at him.”
“At… at him?” Dustin repeats. “Not… at me?”
Oh, Steve’s fucked up. Steve’s fucked up big-time. He rushes to reassure Dustin. “No! No, no, of course not, Dustin. I’m angry at him, not at you, okay? Never mad at you.”
He reaches out tentatively, watching Dustin’s face closely, until his hand lands on Dustin’s knee. Dustin doesn’t flinch again, but he doesn’t exactly lean into it either, the way Steve is used to him doing. Steve squeezes gently, letting out a relieved sigh that Dustin’s letting him touch him at all. He’ll take his wins where he can.
“I just—” He takes a shaky breath. “I just love you, so much. And that someone would hurt you like that—someone who’s supposed to protect you… I just want you to be safe, and I want to protect you from—everything! And I just can’t stand that he hurt you. It makes me so mad…”
Dustin looks confused. “But he’s gone now, Steve. There’s nothing to protect me from. I’m fine.”
Steve presses his lips together and chokes down a sob. “I know. I know, buddy.”
Dustin’s eyebrows are furrowed in a way that makes him look so heartbreakingly young. Steve feels a pain that’s almost physical, witnessing Dustin’s confusion at Steve’s care for him.
“I’m sorry, Dustin,” Steve repeats. “I’m so sorry I scared you, I’m sorry I left.”
Dustin just looks at him, not knowing what to make of this.
“Can I hug you?” Steve asks pathetically, and is relieved when Dustin nods. He sinks down next to Dustin on the couch, still going slow and careful, wary of scaring Dustin. He holds out his arms, letting Dustin make the first move. Dustin leans into him easily, and Steve relaxes, holding him tightly. He hasn’t fucked things up beyond return, then, he hasn’t completely ruined everything. Dustin got scared—Steve scared him—but Dustin’s not scared of him.
Instead, his arms are wrapped around Steve and he’s fallen into his chest and he’s hugging him back like it’s exactly what he wants to be doing. Steve holds Dustin’s head against him and sighs into his hair. It ruffles with his breath and tickles his nose. It smells like Steve’s own shampoo, because Dustin follows Steve’s advice like the Bible, and Steve's eyes well with the reminder of how young he still is. Dustin nuzzles his face against Steve’s shirt.
They’re gonna be okay.