Archive of Our Own

"I can’t take it anymore, Robin. Seriously, I can’t," Steve’s voice cracked into a sharp, almost childish whine as he let his forehead drop against the metal edge of the Scoops Ahoy counter. The thud was dry, ridiculous, and the stupid little sailor hat nearly went flying.

Robin didn’t look up from her magazine. She turned a page with utter indifference, though her eyes—expert at deciphering the agonies of her best friend—watched him over the glossy paper with a spark of amusement.

"If this is about the caramel sauce, I already told the manager to bring more. Take a deep breath, sailor. But do it away from the counter; you’re fogging everything up with your dramatics."

"It’s not about the damn caramel sauce," Steve snorted, straightening up abruptly to glare at her. His uniform was rumpled, and a strand of hair fell over his forehead, rebelling against the meticulous hairstyle he’d worked so hard on that morning. He pushed it aside with a nervous gesture. "It’s him. Again. He came in today, right when I was finishing opening up."

"Who?" she asked, with an innocence so theatrical it was insulting. She knew perfectly well who he was talking about. She’d known since the very first day, when Steve walked into the back room with flushed cheeks and a little bag of artisanal cookies in his hand, mumbling something about an Alpha who looked like a vampire and had the smooth talk of a cheap poet.

"The Alpha! The one with the leather jacket and the long hair. The one who claims to be a rock star." He threw his hands up, gesturing with exasperation, and nearly knocked over the chocolate sprinkle dispenser. He caught it at the last second with such clumsiness that earned him a smug look from Robin. "Eddie Munson. He came in, ordered strawberry ice cream with mint chips, and while I was serving him, he told me my eyes were like ‘two pools of honey in which a man could happily drown.’ Verbatim, Robin! Who the hell says that?"

Robin took her time before answering. She closed the magazine with deliberation, set it down next to the cash register, and rested her chin on one hand, giving Steve a lopsided smile.

"A poet. Or a lunatic... Or a lunatic poet. Basically, the kind of person who’s good for you." Her fingers drummed on the laminated cover of the magazine. "And what’s the problem? That he has a flowery vocabulary? Because, let me tell you, with the Alphas you usually get involved with, a guy reciting poetry to you instead of burping in your face should be a relief."

"It's not funny, Robin." Steve grabbed a cone and started scooping a ball of vanilla ice cream for a customer waiting on the other side of the counter—a kid no older than twelve with a furrowed brow, watching the scene like he was catching a live soap opera.

Steve handed him the ice cream with a forced smile and, as soon as the kid was far enough away, turned back to his friend.

"The problem is he won't give up," he said, letting the metal scooper clatter against the stainless steel. "I've tried everything. Everything. First I told him I was too busy, that I didn't have time for dates."

He paused, tilted his head back toward the ceiling, and mimicked the Alpha’s saccharine voice with a grimace of annoyance.

"You know what he said? That time is an illusion and he could wait an eternity if necessary."

Robin shrugged, clearly amused.

"Then I told him I wasn't interested in Alphas who show off too much," Steve went on, planting his hands on his hips. "And he said he doesn't show off, he simply recognizes excellence when he sees it and that his duty as a musician was to appreciate beauty wherever he found it."

Just then, the doorbell jingled and a lady browsing the prices walked in. Steve spun around sharply, but when he saw she wasn't an urgent customer, he let out a huff and continued talking.

"After that, when I ran out of civilized excuses, I tried being rude." He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white, and locked eyes with Robin. "I told him his band was probably a failure. And you know what he did?" Steve threw his arms up in a gesture of total defeat. "He laughed. He told me that failure is the first step toward legend and that my brutal honesty was incredibly attractive to him. Attractive! As if I were trying to be attractive!"

Robin shook her head, biting her lip to hold back a laugh.

"Let me see if I understand this situation, Harrington. There’s an Alpha who finds you irresistible, who endures all your attempts to scare him off with stoicism and even enthusiasm, who isn’t intimidated by your snubs and who, in fact, seems to find them exciting." She made a theatrical pause, raising an eyebrow. "And you, the Omega who every afternoon struts in front of the customers juggling ice cream scoops and throwing suggestive little glances at any Alpha who walks by, you’re worried? That’s your complaint?"

"I do not strut!" Steve protested, feeling the heat rise from his neck to the tips of his ears. "And I don’t throw suggestive glances. I’m just… friendly with the customers. It’s called having manners, Robin."

"Steve, the other day I saw you lean over the counter to serve a Banana split to a guy who looked like a football player. You nearly fell on top of him. Literally. If you’d leaned just one centimeter further, you would’ve ended up in the ice cream. That’s not being friendly to the customers. That’s a full-blown takeover bid."

Steve stammered an unintelligible protest and crossed his arms, a gesture that made him look younger and more vulnerable than he probably intended. The Scoops Ahoy uniform did absolutely nothing to project the offended dignity he was trying to convey. It was hard to feel imposing dressed as the mascot of a pirate ship.

"That’s not it," he finally murmured, lowering his voice as if confessing a painful secret. "It’s not that I don’t like being pursued. It’s not that I’m not flattered. It’s that… I want something serious, okay? Something real. I’m sick of dates that go nowhere, of Alphas who only see me as a pretty trophy or a fleeting conquest. Do you know how many times I’ve heard ‘you’re the most handsome Omega I’ve ever seen’? A lot. Too many. And they all ended the same way: with me at home, alone, wondering what I did wrong."

His fingers toyed with the edge of the counter, cleaning off a chocolate stain.

"And this guy, Eddie, seems… I don’t know. He seems like the typical rocker who collects Omegas like guitar picks. I’m not convinced he wants something really serious with me. He just likes the game, the chase. As soon as he gets me into his bed, he’ll get bored and move on to the next one. Like all of them."

Robin arched an eyebrow. The irony with which she usually armored her words softened, revealing the affection she felt for her friend. Steve Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High, the guy who once seemed to have it all—popularity, charisma, perfect hair that defied the laws of physics—was now there, vulnerable and sincere, confessing his longing for a real connection in the midst of the cloying smell of melted ice cream.

"Well," Robin said, picking up her magazine again with a sigh and pretending to read it with disinterest. "If you’re so desperate to scare him off, you could always tell him the truth. Tell him you’re an emotional wreck with more baggage than an international flight. That you spend your nights watching reruns of bad TV shows and that your greatest culinary skill is not burning toast. That usually works. The truth, I mean. I’ve heard it’s very effective."

"I need something more shocking. Something that’ll make him run away without looking back. Something definitive."

Robin fell silent for a moment, her fingers drumming on the magazine. Then, a spark of pure mischief lit up her eyes—that spark that always appeared just before she let out one of her brilliantly stupid ideas.

"Easy. Tell him you have kids."

Steve blinked.

"Kids?"

"Kids. Several. A whole bunch, a whole litter. Like, I don’t know, four or five." Robin gestured with her hands, getting more animated as she developed the idea. "Alphas run away in a stampede when they hear something like that. It’s like showing a cross to vampires. He’ll take off faster than you do from a diet, Harrington. I guarantee it.

"Four or five kids…" Steve murmured, savoring the words. His brow furrowed in a thoughtful grimace. "That’s… crazy. Completely and utterly crazy. No one in their right mind would want to date an Omega who already has five kids."

"Exactly." Robin smiled smugly. "That’s why it’s perfect. You show up, tell him, the guy looks horrified, makes up some ridiculous excuse to leave, and you go back to your pathetic routine of flirting with customers who come to buy ice cream. Everyone’s happy. End of story."

"I’ve already told you I don’t flirt with customers."

"Of course not, Steve. You’re a model of modesty and decorum." Robin gave him a pat on the cheek, a condescending gesture Steve hated. "Now, are you going to keep making excuses, or are you going to serve the lady who seems to have finally decided what she wants to order?"

Steve blinked again, turning on his heels to face the lady waiting with her arms crossed. He stammered a quick apology and got to work, digging the scoop into the ice cream with more force than necessary, but his mind was still caught up in the conversation. Five kids? It was madness. A monumental piece of nonsense bordering on the absurd.

But, on the other hand, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Alphas wanted Omegas who were available, with no ties, no outside responsibilities. An Omega with a large brood was like a warning warning sign with flashing neon lights. «Danger: serious commitment required. Adventurers keep out.» 

As he poured the chocolate syrup, a new determination took shape in his chest, solid and cold as the ice he served every day. The next time Eddie Munson showed up, he’d be ready. The next time, there would be no more polite excuses or feigned rudeness. The next time, he’d drop the bomb of the five kids and watch how the second-rate rocker ran off with his tail between his legs.

And the next time came sooner than he expected.

That same day, when his shift ended. The Starcourt Mall had begun to empty out with the characteristic slowness of weekday afternoons, the fluorescent lights humming over the aisles like a swarm of electric bees. Steve had shed the Scoops Ahoy uniform and was now wearing his usual clothes: a striped shirt, tight jeans, and his Members Only jacket. He was exhausted, his feet aching and a persistent scent of whipped cream embedded in his pores, and all he wanted was to get home, collapse on the couch, and watch some nonsense on TV until he fell asleep.

But the universe—or more specifically, Eddie Munson—had other plans.

He saw him leaning against the metal railing of the parking lot, right where the streetlights bathed his figure in a golden hue that gave him an almost unreal look. He wore his usual black leather jacket, a band T-shirt Steve didn’t recognize, and ripped jeans that showed his knees. His long, dark hair fell over his shoulders in rebellious waves, and several silver rings glittered on his fingers as they caught the light. In his hand he held a flower—a small, slightly wilted daisy, as if he’d plucked it from some flowerbed on the way, with the stem a bit crushed.

Steve stopped dead. His heart gave a treacherous lurch, a confusing mix of irritation and something warmer he flatly refused to identify. He took a deep breath, reminded himself of the plan, and walked toward him with steps that were meant to be steady but trembled slightly.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie greeted him with a voice like worn velvet, deep and a little raspy, as if he’d spent the night screaming at a concert. "Just the Omega I wanted to see."

"Munson," Steve replied, stopping at a safe distance. He crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture, but his cheeks were already starting to turn that annoying pink that always gave him away. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

Eddie’s smile was wide and genuine, devoid of the arrogance Steve usually associated with the Alphas who courted him. It had something childlike, mischievous, like a kid who’d just played a prank and was eagerly awaiting the reaction.

"I figured, since I always see you surrounded by ice creams and that little sailor hat, I’d like to see you in a different context. More… natural. More you. And then I saw this flower." He raised the daisy, examining it with a mock academic air. "And you know what I thought? I thought, ‘It’s pretty, but not as pretty as Steve Harrington.’ So here it is. It’s for you, a completely selfless floral offering. Well, not completely. It has a certain interest, but it’s a noble interest. I promise.”

Steve stared at the flower as if it were an alien artifact. The daisy was modest, with some wrinkled petals and the stem bent at a strange angle. It wasn’t the kind of expensive, ostentatious gift other Alphas had given him in the past. It was… simple. Sincere. Absurd. Like all of Eddie’s gifts.

He hesitated before reaching out and taking it. His fingers brushed Eddie’s as he did so—a fleeting contact that sent a slight shiver up his arm. The Alpha gave off a warm, musky scent, with notes of old leather and something deeper, like the smell of wet earth after a summer storm. A smell too pleasant. Steve forced himself to push that thought out of his head.

"Thank you," he murmured, not quite knowing what else to say. He twirled the daisy between his fingers, examining it as if it contained the answers to all his questions.

"You’re welcome." Eddie leaned slightly toward him, closing the distance. "And now, the million-dollar question. The one that’s been rattling around my mind since I first saw you that rainy night at the bar. Have you thought about my proposal? Would you like to go out with me? Because I like you. I like you a lot. I like you an amount that borders on alarming, to be honest."

There it was. The moment of truth. Steve felt his stomach tighten into a tight knot, and for a second, he seriously considered the possibility of running away. But instead, he clenched his jaw, mustered his courage, and lifted his chin to look Eddie straight in the eyes. Dark, deep eyes, watching him with an intensity that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Yes," Steve said, and saw Eddie’s face light up with such pure joy that he felt an immediate pang of guilt. "Wait, wait. Before you get excited, I have to tell you something. Something important."

Eddie paused midway through a gesture that was probably going to be an enthusiastic leap. His eyebrows rose, inquisitive, and his smile dimmed a little, though it didn’t disappear entirely.

"Sounds serious. Are you going to tell me you’re a secret government agent? A centuries-old vampire? A time traveler from a post-apocalyptic future? Because I warn you, none of that would bother me too much. I have very low standards for weird."

Steve let out a nervous laugh. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs.

"No. It’s something more… down-to-earth. You see, Eddie, if you really want to go out with me, if you’re truly interested in something serious, you need to know that I… have kids. Five. Five pups that depend completely on me."

Eddie went completely still, his eyes wide, jaw slightly unhinged. Even his scent changed—the warm musk turning more sour, mixed with a note of surprise so intense Steve could perceive it effortlessly. The daisy trembled slightly in the Omega’s fingers as he waited for the outcome with bated breath. That was it. The bomb was dropped. Now all that was left was to wait for the explosion and pick up the pieces afterward.

"Kids?" Eddie repeated, as if the word were completely foreign to his vocabulary. "Five kids?"

"Five," Steve confirmed, and he didn’t know where he got the courage to keep his voice steady. "It’s not something I usually bring up on first dates, but… if we’re really going to do this, you need to know. They’re my priority. Always."

Eddie blinked several times, processing the information. His free hand came up to scratch the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. His brain seemed to be making a visible effort to assimilate what he’d just heard.

"Wow. I… I didn’t expect that. At all." Eddie let out a short, incredulous laugh. "I mean, look at you. You, with five kids. If you’d told me you have a cat, or a plant that always dies on you, or an unhealthy obsession with romantic comedies, I’d believe you. But five kids? You don’t look… I don’t know. You don’t look like the type of Omega who’d have five kids."

"Most people are surprised,” Steve replied, shrugging with a nonchalance he didn’t feel at all. Inside, a small spark of relief was starting to light up in his chest. Eddie’s face was bewildered, confused, stunned. Exactly as he had hoped. "So, well. I understand this changes things. It’s okay. You don’t have to…"

"It wasn’t in my plans," Eddie interrupted, speaking more to himself than to Steve. His voice had taken on a different tone, more serious, as if he were making complex mental calculations. "Definitely wasn’t in my plans. Dating an Omega who already has his own little herd… that’s uncharted territory. Terra incognita. No one gave me the map for this."

"Don’t worry, really," Steve hurried to say, and he was already about to flash a victorious smile, about to turn around and walk away with the satisfaction of a job well done, when Eddie spoke again.

"But plans change."

Steve froze. Literally frozen, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head.

"W-What?"

"Plans, they change."

Eddie smiled, and it was a new smile, different from the previous ones. Softer, but also more decisive. A smile that spoke of a resolution just made.

"Look, I’m not going to lie to you. Five kids is… actually, it’s a hell of a lot. It’s like going from beginner level to the final boss of a video game with no tutorial beforehand."

He took a moment, as if he were considering the madness he was about to accept.

"But this is how it is, Steve. I like you. I like you a whole lot. I like you so much that I’ve been hanging around at Scoops Ahoy for weeks, putting up with your dirty looks, your ridiculous excuses, and that strawberry ice cream with mint which, by the way, was really disgusting."

He let out a little laugh before continuing, his voice firmer.

"I didn’t come this far to give up now. If you have five kids, then I’ll just have to meet five kids. What’s the worst that could happen? They throw things at me? They hate me? They give me a nickname? I’ve survived entire high schools, I can survive five brats."

Steve’s mouth opened and closed without making a sound. For an instant, he was the one who looked like a fish out of water, trapped in a situation that had completely slipped out of his hands. He gasped slightly, feeling the world turn upside down around him. This wasn’t in the script. The Alpha was supposed to run away, come up with a ridiculous excuse, disappear from his life forever. He wasn’t supposed to accept the five imaginary kids with such disarming naturalness.

"So get them ready," Eddie continued, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets with theatrical nonchalance. "All of them. All five. Because Saturday I’ll come pick you up, you and them. We’re going to have a date. A family date. The first of many, I hope. Is five o’clock okay for you? Or do you prefer later? Kids usually have tricky schedules, right? That’s what I’ve heard. I don’t have much experience with kids, but I have enthusiasm. Lots of enthusiasm. Enthusiasm sometimes makes up for lack of experience."

Steve swallowed hard. A tremor ran through his body from head to toe, and when he spoke, his voice sounded strange even to his own ears.

"Five o’clock is… f-fine. Saturday at five..."

"Perfect." Eddie winked at him—a gesture that from anyone else would have seemed conceited—but from him was strangely endearing. "It’ll be amazing. Like in the movies. Well, like in the weird movies, the ones nobody watches. Those are the best. Until then, Steve of the Five Kids. Take good care of them. And take care of yourself too."

He turned around and walked away with a carefree stride, his hair swaying down his back, his rings jingling with every movement. Steve stood planted in the same spot, the wilted daisy still between his fingers, his jaw hanging and his brain completely blank. The scent of leather and wet earth hung in the air a few more seconds before slowly dissipating.

God.

What had he just done?

Where was he going to get five kids by Saturday?

The telephone was in the hallway, an old beige thing that had belonged to his parents before they decided to spend more time on business trips than at home. Steve picked it up with trembling hands and dialed Robin’s number from memory, stabbing the buttons with violence. The receiver buzzed against his ear once, twice, three times… Five. Nothing. He dialed again. Nothing. He cursed under his breath. They’d probably cut her line, or Robin had fallen asleep in front of the TV, or the universe was conspiring against him in every possible way simultaneously.

He slammed the receiver down and started pacing the living room, rubbing his temples with exasperation. He dug his fingers into his hair, messing it up even more. On the dining table, Eddie’s daisy was still there, wilted and absurd, like a mute reminder of the monumental mess he’d gotten himself into. Why hadn’t he just been honest from the start? Why had he gone along with that stupid idea of Robin’s? Now he was trapped in his own lie, with an Alpha who hadn’t been scared off by the five kids and a date on Saturday to which he had to show up with a nonexistent brood.

A set of knuckles rapped on the glass door that led to the backyard. He turned and saw Dustin on the other side; his thinking cap pulled down over his eyebrows and a broad smile on his face. Steve waved him in impatiently, and Dustin slid the door open with the familiarity of someone who’d been there hundreds of times.

"Steve!" the boy greeted him, invading the living room as if it were his own house. "Are you busy? I wanted to ask if we could use your living room this weekend. Mike says they won’t let us use his because his mom’s painting the basement and…"

He broke off when he caught Steve’s expression, the phone off the hook, and the general atmosphere of crisis floating in the room, thick as the bitter scent of a stressed Omega.

"What’s wrong?" Dustin asked, with uncharacteristic caution. "Did something bad happen? Really bad? Like Demogorgon-level bad? Because if it is, I’ll need my walkie-talkie. I left it at home."

Steve let out an exasperated huff and dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment, in silence, while Dustin approached with faltering steps and perched on the arm of the neighboring armchair. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes reflected a desperation so genuine that the boy instinctively leaned back.

"I’m in trouble, Dustin. Big trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Dustin leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with that insatiable curiosity that defined him. "Does it have to do with the Russians, the Upside Down, or your car?"

"No. It has to do with me being an idiot." Steve slumped back against the couch and let out a sigh so deep it seemed to deflate him. "Remember I told you about an Alpha? The one who’s been insisting on going out with me for months?"

"The guy with the long hair. The rocker... Yeah, I remember. You said he was a pain and you didn’t know how to get rid of him."

"Well, I tried to get rid of him today, after work. Following some advice from Robin, which in retrospect I should have recognized as stupidity, but at the time seemed brilliant." Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I told him I had kids, five kids. To scare him off and make him run away. A small, harmless lie that would get me out of trouble and put an end to this situation. And you know what the idiot did? Run away? No. He said plans change, that he wanted to meet them. Saturday, at five. We’re having a family date."

Dustin stood completely still. His expression went through several phases in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, fascination, and finally, a touch of involuntary admiration.

"God, Steve. You seriously told him that? The five kids thing? And he believed you?"

"Of course he believed me! Why wouldn’t he?" Steve threw his hands up. "And now I’m in huge trouble."

"Um… yeah. You definitely are." Dustin scratched the back of his neck under his cap. "If you didn’t want to go out with him, you could have just been honest from the start. Just say, ‘Hey, I’m not interested in you.’ Plain and simple. Honesty usually works in these cases."

"Yeah, well, thanks for the great advice, Henderson. It’s not much help right now." Steve got to his feet and started pacing again, gesticulating. "I need five kids by Saturday. Five. Where am I supposed to get them? Do I manufacture them? Order them from a catalog? Put an ad in the paper? ‘Kids wanted for fake date, payment in ice cream.’"

"I don’t think that’s legal..." Dustin murmured, his eyes following him. "Though, now that you mention it… technically, you already take care of us. Me, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, and El. If we don’t count El because she can’t go out, that makes five of us."

Steve stopped then. He turned slowly, fixing his eyes on Dustin with a disarming intensity.

"What did you say?"

"That there are five of us." Dustin raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "I mean, we’re not your kids, obviously. But we spend a ton of time with you. You drive us everywhere in your car, you give us free ice cream, you buy us pizza when our allowance doesn’t stretch. You… you take care of us. You’re like… I don’t know. Not a dad. Something different. An older brother, or a distant cousin, or a legal guardian in an alternate universe. The point is, technically, if you need five kids for Saturday, we could be those five kids."

Steve stared at him for a long moment. Then, as if a lightbulb had switched on behind his eyes, a wide smile began to spread across his face. 

"Dustin Henderson, you’re a genius."

"I know, but usually people take longer to realize it."

"No, no, listen." Steve walked over and put his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, leaning down to his level. "You can help me. You can be one of my kids. Just for one afternoon, just during the date. Then, once the Alpha is gone, everything goes back to normal."

Dustin scrunched up his face in a skeptical grimace. His fingers toyed with the strap of his backpack, a nervous gesture Steve knew well.

"I’m not so sure, Steve. Keeping up a lie doesn’t usually bring anything good. I’ve seen it in the movies, and in real life. Especially in real life. Wouldn’t it be better to just call that guy and explain the truth? ‘Hey, the kids thing was a joke, I don’t have any, but thanks for being so understanding, bye.’ End of problem."

"I can’t do that." Steve stepped back, running a hand through his now completely disheveled hair. "Not after seeing how he reacted. He took it seriously, Dustin. Really seriously. If I tell him now it was a lie, I’ll look like an idiot. Even more of an idiot than I already am."

"But…"

"And besides," Steve interrupted him, and his tone shifted subtly—turning a little lower, a little more vulnerable. "You know what the worst part is? When he said all that… when he said he didn’t care about the kids… I felt something. Something weird. Like for a second all this could be real and I could actually have something good with someone. Like I could actually deserve it. And that’s stupid, I know. But that’s why I need to do this, to prove to myself that it’s not real. That no Alpha is going to want to take on all this. Me and mine. My life. My mess."

Dustin fell silent, his eyes wide. There was something in Steve’s voice—a note of sadness beneath the exasperation—that silenced his protests. Seeing him standing in the living room of a house too big and too empty, admitting his loneliness in such a raw and honest way, was almost painful to hear.

"Okay," he finally said, with a sigh of resignation. "I’ll help you. I’ll be one of your fake kids for an afternoon. But, Steve…"

"Yeah?"

"I still think this is going to end badly. Really badly."

"You’re probably right." Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair, drawing an indignant protest. "But in the meantime, I need to recruit the other four. Come on, grab your stuff. We’ve got visits to make."

Steve’s BMW rolled through the streets of Hawkins under the orange flicker of the streetlights. The radio spat out a pop song Dustin was humming off-key, his forehead resting against the window. The suburban houses followed one another with their monotony of trimmed lawns and identical mailboxes, but the atmosphere inside the vehicle was anything but calm. Steve drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel and bit his lower lip with such insistence he was probably worrying it raw.

"All right," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Who do we start with?"

"Max," Dustin suggested without hesitation. "She’s the hardest to convince. The sooner we get it over with, the better."

"Good thinking." Steve turned the wheel, taking the detour toward the neighborhood where Max lived, an area of more modest houses, with wooden fences and cars parked on the front lawns. "You call her."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you’ve got more trust with her, you’re friends. And because this was technically your idea."

"It wasn’t my idea! You’re the one who said the five kids thing! Mine was just a suggestion!"

"A brilliant suggestion. And now you’re going to carry it out. Come on, Henderson, put that silver tongue you love using on me to good use and convince Max to be my daughter for an afternoon."

Dustin grumbled something unintelligible but obeyed. When the car stopped in front of the Hargroves’ house, he got out with a martyr’s sigh and approached the window facing the front yard; Max’s bedroom window. He rapped his knuckles against the glass in a specific cadence—a code only they knew—and waited.

A few seconds passed. Then the curtain was pulled back and Max’s face appeared on the other side, wearing her usual expression of teenage weariness. She opened the window and leaned out, resting her elbows on the sill.

"What’s up, Dustin?" Her tone was dry, but not hostile. It was just Max being Max. "If this is for another one of your Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, let me remind you I have things to do. Like, for example, literally anything else."

"It’s not for a campaign." Dustin pointed with his thumb toward the car, where Steve was waiting with a tense smile. "We need you to do us a favor. Me and Steve."

"A favor?" Max narrowed her eyes. She glanced at the car, where Steve offered a small wave, then fixed her gaze back on Dustin. "What kind of favor?"

"A… big one. Weird. Hard to explain from here. Can you come out for a minute? We’ll tell you in the car."

Max considered the proposal for a long moment. Behind her, inside the house, the blaring music Billy always played at full volume could be heard, heavy metal mixed with the noise of his weights hitting the floor. The alternative was staying home, shut in her room, putting up with that auditory torture for the next several hours. Or going with Dustin and Steve to do whatever they needed.

"Fine," she said, and closed the window.

A minute later, she came out the back door in her denim jacket, with her Walkman dangling from her arm. She got into the backseat of the BMW without asking and settled in casually.

"This better be good," she warned, crossing her arms. "And there better be food involved. I’m hungry."

Steve started the engine and headed for the next stop. As he drove, Dustin turned in his seat to talk to Max and, gesticulating exaggeratedly, explained the whole situation; the pushy Alpha, the five-kids lie, the backfire, the Saturday date, the need to recruit fake kids.

Max listened in silence, her eyes going from Dustin to Steve and from Steve to Dustin, and when the story was finished, she let out a snort that was half disbelief and half laughter.

"So," she said, savoring every word. "You, Steve Harrington, the same guy who’s constantly lecturing us about being responsible and staying out of trouble, have cooked up this colossal disaster. Is that about right?"

"It hasn’t exactly been…" Steve paused, searching for a defense that wouldn’t come. "Yeah. That’s exactly it."

"And now you need us to pretend to be your kids to fool an Alpha who, for some reason that escapes me, didn’t run for the hills when he heard you had five kids." Max shook her head slowly, but a smile of amused disbelief was forming on her lips. "This is the stupidest plan I’ve heard in my life. And I’ve heard a lot of stupid plans. Most of them Dustin’s."

"Hey!" Dustin protested.

"It’s the only plan we have," Steve admitted, shrugging. "And I need your help, Max. Please. I owe you one."

"You owe me many." Max leaned back in the seat, reflecting. "Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll agree to be your fake daughter for an afternoon, but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You let me use the pool at your house whenever I want. No restrictions. No schedules. No having to ask permission. I show up, I swim, and that's it."

"But…"

"And," Max continued, relentless. "The others can come too. I mean, if I’m doing you this huge favor, I want benefits for the whole group. Not just for me."

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but closed it right away. He wasn’t in a position to negotiate. He needed five kids, and at that moment, Max was the first one who’d agreed. Well, Max and Dustin. Two out of five. Progress.

"Deal," he conceded. "Pool access for everyone. Whenever you want."

"Perfect." Max smiled with satisfaction, a predator’s smile that had gotten exactly what she wanted. "Who are we getting next?"

The next stop was the Wheelers’ house. A large, orderly construction, with perfectly trimmed grass and a bicycle carelessly tossed in the driveway. Mike was the one who opened the door.

"What do you want?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I need to talk to you. Is your mom home?"

"No, she went to the store. What do you need me for...?"

Steve and Dustin exchanged a glance. Then, with a sigh, Steve launched into the explanation for the third time that night. Mike listened without interrupting, arms crossed and brow furrowed, and when the story was over, his reaction was exactly what Steve had feared.

"Wait. You expect us to pretend to be your kids to keep up a lie you never should have told in the first place? Are you serious?"

"Mike…"

"No, no, listen," Mike took a step forward, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. "First, this is stupid. Second, it’s hugely stupid. Third, how do you expect anyone to believe you? We’re five teenagers. None of us looks like you. Maybe Will, a little, just a little. But Lucas is Black, Max is a redhead, Dustin has curls, and I look like a ghost. What Alpha in his right mind is going to believe we’re all siblings?"

"You're not going to be siblings," Steve countered, crossing his arms. "You're going to be kids from different parents. Blended families. It’s modern, it happens all the time."

"Blended families?" Mike let out a disbelieving laugh. "And you’re supposed to have had five kids by five different fathers? You? The guy who nearly burned the kitchen down trying to make popcorn?"

"That was one time!"

"It was last week!"

"The pan was defective!"

Dustin raised his hands, stepping between the two of them.

"Okay, okay, ceasefire!" he exclaimed. "Mike, we need you to help us. I know the plan is insane. I know it’s got more holes than a colander. But Steve is in a mess, and we’re his only hope. Besides," he added, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Max has already negotiated unlimited pool access for everyone."

Mike looked toward the car, where Max nodded solemnly from the back window. His resistance visibly wavered.

"Unlimited access? To Steve’s pool? No restrictions?"

"No restrictions," Max confirmed. "I witnessed it. It’s binding."

Mike bit his lower lip, torn between his pride and the image of that perfect crystal-clear pool in the middle of summer. Finally, he let out a sigh so theatrical it would have made even Robin pale if she’d been there.

"Fine. I’ll do it. But only for the pool, and I’m also going to want popcorn, but not burned."

"Done," Steve said, unable to suppress a relieved smile. "Get in the car. We’re still two short."

Will was the easiest to convince. Partly because he was the most easygoing of the group, and partly because when Steve showed up at his door, Joyce was there and didn’t raise many objections. Will’s mother, with her perpetual dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights and constant worry, looked at Steve with that tired affection she always had.

"You want to take Will?" she asked, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. "Now? It’s a little late, isn’t it?"

"It’s for a… project." Steve scratched the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "A… group activity. Teenage stuff. You know how it is. I’ll bring him back in the car. Boy Scout’s honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout, Steve."

"No, ma’am. But I can start."

Joyce smiled, a small, exhausted smile, and motioned for Will to come out. The boy appeared with a shy expression, his eyes big and curious, and got into the car without asking too many questions. Dustin explained the situation on the way, and Will nodded silently, accepting his role in the farce with quiet resignation.

"Sounds fine," he said simply. "As long as I don’t have to do anything too complicated."

Lucas was the last, and the trickiest. Not because he didn’t want to help, but because, as Mike had pointed out, he looked the least like Steve of the whole group. When they got to his house, Erica greeted them at the door with her hands on her hips.

"My brother is unavailable," she announced in a singsong voice. "He’s grounded for coming home late for dinner last night. My mom says he can’t go out."

"Erica, please," Steve pleaded, crouching down to her level. "It’s urgent, very urgent. Life or death matters."

"Uh-huh. And what do I get out of it?"

Steve blinked.

"What do you get? You? You don’t… you don’t get anything. You’re not part of this."

"Then Lucas doesn’t come out." Erica crossed her arms in a way that was utterly infuriating. "Unless… you let me use your pool."

Steve felt a vein throbbing in his temple.

"But I already agreed that you could all use the pool. You’re a damn union."

"All who? The whole group?" Erica narrowed her eyes, evaluating the information. "Including me?"

"Yes! Including you! You, your brother, anyone who wants to! The pool is yours! It’s not my pool anymore! It’s the whole damn town’s pool!"

Erica smiled—a smile of absolute victory—and stepped aside.

"Lucas is in his room. Second door on the right. Tell him he’s pardoned."

Lucas listened to the plan with a skeptical expression, sitting on the edge of his bed while the others crowded into his small room. The walls were covered with basketball posters and star charts, and his wood slingshot rested on the desk.

"And what am I supposed to do?" he asked when Steve finished his explanation. "Pretend to be your kid? Me?"

"Exactly."

"Steve, I’m Black."

"I’m well aware, Sinclair."

"And you’re white..."

"Yeah, I’m clear on that too." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "We’ve already thought about it. We’ll say you’re adopted. Blended families. It’s modern, progressive."

"Blended families," Lucas repeated, processing the words. "Sounds like something a car salesman would make up to justify a lie."

"Probably because it is," Mike muttered from a corner.

"Look, Lucas." Steve sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, and his tone lost some of its desperation, turning more serious. "I need you. I need all of you. I know this is a disaster, I know I’ve screwed up royally. But I can’t do this alone. You guys are the closest thing to a family I have. And as pathetic as that sounds, it’s the truth. So please, help me. Just one afternoon. Then you can go back to calling me an idiot as many times as you want. I promise."

Lucas watched him in silence for a long moment. Then, as if he’d found something in Steve’s face that convinced him, he nodded slowly.

"Alright. I’ll do it. But I want to be the oldest son."

"Of course," Steve smiled.

That night, a war council was held in the Harringtons’ living room. The five kids sprawled across the couches and chairs, armed with sodas and bags of potato chips Steve had bought for the occasion. The Omega—standing before them like a general before his troops—laid out the plan in full detail.

"Well, listen up." He pointed to a makeshift whiteboard he’d propped against the fireplace, covered in notes scrawled in shaky handwriting. "Saturday at five, Eddie Munson is coming to pick us up. By then, you need to be here, at my house, ready and rehearsed. Your parents have already given the green light. I told them I’m taking you on an educational field trip."

"Educational? For what?" Mike asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Something science-related. Rocks, museums, whatever. The point is, I’ve got you under my care until Sunday morning. During that time, you’re my kids. Not my neighbors, not my friends. My kids. Is that clear?"

The five nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Dustin looked genuinely excited, as if this were the kickoff to a new Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Max wore an expression of cynical amusement, like someone attending a show she knew would end in disaster but intended to enjoy while it lasted. Mike was visibly skeptical, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Will nodded timidly, not quite believing the situation. And Lucas seemed to be mentally calculating the odds of any of this working out.

"Now, the roles." Steve pointed at the whiteboard. "Lucas, you’re the oldest. You’re fourteen. You’re responsible and mature. Basically, act like me, but with better aim."

"Got it," Lucas said.

"Mike, you’re the second. Also fourteen, but more impulsive. You like questioning authority, but deep down you’re a good kid. So, just act normal."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"You decide." Steve moved on without giving him time to retort. "Henderson, you’re thirteen. You’re the smart one of the group. The one who talks too much, the one who drops useless facts at the least opportune moments."

"My facts aren’t useless!" Dustin protested. "They’re fascinating. The other day I read that the giant squid can reach up to thirteen meters in length. That’s not useless, it’s relevant for survival in the event of a giant squid attack."

"Like you just demonstrated." Steve rolled his eyes. "Max, you’re twelve. You’re the girl, the sarcastic one. The one who snorts when adults say stupid things. You won’t have to work very hard."

"Don’t worry," Max replied with a sharp smile. "It’ll be a pleasure."

"And Will, you’re the youngest. Eleven years old. You’re quiet and reserved, but you have a boundless imagination. You like to draw. You’re the one who softens adults’ hearts with your sweetness." Steve smiled at him, and Will blushed slightly. "C’mon, just be yourself."

"Okay," Will murmured, shrinking a little in his seat.

"And you?" Mike interjected, raising an eyebrow. "What’s your role in this farce?"

"I’m your parental figure. The one who takes care of you and protects you. The one who’s raised five kids all on his own and pulled through against all odds." Steve straightened up, placing his hands on his hips in a heroic pose. "I’m basically a saint."

"You’re basically a liar," Mike corrected.

"A lying saint. Don’t complicate it."

They spent the next hour rehearsing. Steve put them through a mock introduction drill: he made them recite their names (in the end they decided to keep the real ones to avoid confusion), their ages, and some personal detail to lend credibility to the story. There were heated debates over who Steve’s favorite was (everyone insisted it wasn’t them), what TV show they watched together (they could never agree), and what the family’s official food was (pizza, obviously, but the debate over toppings threatened to derail the whole meeting).

"This isn’t going to work," Mike declared at one point, slumping back against the sofa. "We’re a disaster. We don’t look anything alike, we don’t have a coherent story. Anyone with half a brain will figure out we’re lying in under five minutes."

"He doesn’t need to believe it all," Steve reassured him, though his tone betrayed his own insecurity. "He just needs to spend the afternoon with us and decide he doesn’t want a repeat. That’s the goal, remember? Scare him off. Make him get tired of it. Make him understand that dating me means taking on all of this, and then he’ll disappear."

"And what if he doesn’t disappear?" Will asked in his soft little voice, and everyone turned to look at him. "I mean… if you already told him about the five kids and he wasn’t scared off… what makes you think spending an afternoon with us is going to drive him away?"

A thick silence settled over the room. Steve felt Will’s question lodge itself in his chest like a splinter, because it was exactly the same one he’d been asking himself ever since Eddie had walked away from the mall with that smile on his lips. What if he didn’t run? What if the plan failed? What would he do then?

But he couldn’t afford to think about that now. Not with Saturday approaching at an alarming speed. Not when the machinery of the lie was already in motion and there was no way to stop it without admitting the truth and looking like a complete idiot.

"Then," he finally answered, with a confidence he didn’t feel. "We’ll have failed spectacularly and I’ll move to another state. Next question."

The rehearsal went on late into the night. Steve drove the kids back to their homes and finally found himself alone in the living room. The whiteboard was still propped against the fireplace, smudged with scribbles and cross-outs. The empty chip bags were piled on the table. The silence of the house—always too big for just one person—closed in around him like a heavy blanket.

He dropped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. Somewhere down the hallway, the clock struck twelve with its monotonous, unceasing ticking. The scent of his own anxiety, sour and pungent, saturated the air. If any Alpha had walked in at that moment, they would have fled before taking two steps.

But Eddie Munson wasn’t just any Alpha. That was the problem. Eddie Munson was a guy with long hair and fingers full of rings, who played in a heavy metal band and said things that were way too sappy. A guy who, faced with the prospect of dating an Omega saddled with kids, hadn’t done what any sensible Alpha would have done. He hadn’t made excuses, he hadn’t disappeared. He’d smiled. He’d said plans change, he’d talked about getting the pups ready.

And that, though Steve refused to admit it, terrified and fascinated him in equal measure.

Saturday morning dawned sunny and warm, as if the Hawkins weather had conspired to make the day even more surreal. Steve woke up before the alarm went off, with a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the birds singing in the garden and wondering at what exact moment his life had turned into a screwball comedy.

After a long shower and a breakfast he barely touched, he devoted the hours leading up to the date to getting the house ready. Not that he expected Eddie to come inside; in fact, his original plan was to meet him at the door and leave immediately. But he preferred to be prepared for any eventuality. He picked up the clutter from the previous night's rehearsal, hid the whiteboard in the hallway closet, and opened the windows to air out the living room. His scent, still tinged with nervousness, needed to dissipate before the Alpha arrived.

At three in the afternoon, he went to pick up the kids. He made the rounds in his car, collecting each one from their houses, exchanging tense greetings with the parents and assuring them he'd bring them back safe and sound. Mrs. Wheeler gave him a bag of apples. Joyce asked that Will take his inhaler. Lucas's mom made him promise he wouldn't take them anywhere dangerous. And Dustin's mother reminded him her son was allergic to shellfish.

"I know, Mrs. Henderson, I've got it," Steve let out an audible sigh.

When the five of them were finally gathered in his living room, dressed in their Sunday best—or at least, the cleanest clothes they owned—Steve looked them over with a mixture of tenderness and despair. They were a motley, gangly bunch, with their different-sized pants, band and video game T-shirts, impossible hairstyles, and mismatched socks. The unlikeliest group of kids ever to pretend to be a family.

"Right, guys," he said, swallowing his nerves. "This is the moment. Do you remember your roles?"

"Lucas, fourteen, responsible oldest son," Lucas recited.

"Mike, fourteen, rebellious but good-hearted," Mike continued, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

"Dustin, thirteen, misunderstood genius," Dustin added, puffing out his chest with pride.

"Max, twelve, professional sarcastic," Max said, feigning a military salute.

"Will, eleven, the quiet, adorable little one," Will finished, almost in a whisper.

"Perfect." Steve exhaled slowly. "Now remember the most important part, the thing that cannot fail."

"Being ourselves?" Dustin ventured.

"No. Being unbearable. Argue, interrupt, blurt out your most absurd thoughts. Do what you do best so this Alpha gets tired of us and leaves."

"Refute arguments with crushing logic?" Mike asked.

"Useless facts about marine animals?" Dustin suggested.

"Roll my eyes until my face hurts?" Max offered.

"Exactly. All of that. The more unbearable you are, the faster he’ll leave."

"And then," Will interjected, with his usual insight. "You can go back to your normal life and forget about him."

"That's right." Steve nodded, ignoring the slight pang of discomfort he felt in his chest at the image of Eddie walking away forever. "Just what I want."

Max and Mike exchanged a meaningful glance. Dustin scratched the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. Lucas looked at the floor, shifting one foot nervously. Will was the only one who kept his gaze forward, with those big eyes that seemed to read far more than he let on.

None of them voiced what they were thinking. That this plan, if it worked, would close the door on something that perhaps—just perhaps—deserved a chance. But it wasn't their place to say it. They were the actors in this farce. The director was Steve.

And the director, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, was terrified at the possibility that the play might not turn out to be as disastrous as he was hoping for.

At five o'clock sharp, the roar of an engine in the driveway announced Eddie Munson's arrival. Steve felt such a violent lurch in his chest that for an instant he thought he'd forgotten how to breathe. He smoothed down his shirt for the hundredth time, ran his fingers through his hair—perfectly styled, for a change—and took three deep breaths before going to open the door.

The kids were waiting in the living room, lined up in a messy row that was meant to be orderly. All quiet. Expectant. Even Max had parked her insolent expression and was showing an almost genuine curiosity.

Steve opened the door.

Eddie was waiting on the porch, bathed in the golden late-afternoon light, wearing his eternal black leather jacket over an Iron Maiden T-shirt and his usual ripped jeans. But his hair—normally loose and rebellious—was somewhat more tamed, as if he'd made an extra effort. In his hands he held a small cardboard box tied with a red ribbon.

"Steve Harrington," he greeted, with a smile so radiant it banished any trace of nervousness. "Or rather, Steve of the Five Kids. You look… I don't know, is there a word beyond handsome? Splendid? Radiant? Dazzling? I don't know, the dictionary fails me when I look at you." He held the box out to Steve. "I brought chocolates. Well, technically they're truffles. The saleswoman said they were aphrodisiac love sweets and, in my indecision about what to give you, I bought them without asking too many questions. Then I remembered you have kids and I don't know if it's appropriate to bring aphrodisiac sweets to a family date... so pretend they're normal chocolates. They're normal chocolates. Nothing special about them. Chocolate. Just chocolate."

Steve took the box, feeling the heat climb up his cheeks in a completely ridiculous way. Damn it. Why did he have to be so… so Eddie? So genuinely eccentric and charming all at once.

"Thanks," he murmured, stepping aside to let him in. "Come in. The… the kids are ready."

Eddie walked into the hallway with that mix of curiosity and respect of someone stepping onto sacred ground. His eyes swept over the corridor, the family photos on the walls, the furniture inherited from previous generations. His Alpha sense of smell, undoubtedly sharper than Steve's, would be picking up a symphony of scents: the sweetness of the Omega, the youthful smells of the kids, the faint whiff of potato chips from the night before.

"Nice house," he commented, with a naturalness that didn't seem forced. "Very… homey. Smells like family." He paused, glancing sideways at Steve. "Are you nervous? Because if you are, I'll tell you I'm a hundred times more nervous. I think this is the third time in my life I've met someone's kids."

"I'm not nervous," Steve lied, swallowing hard. "C’mon, they're in the living room."

He led Eddie to the entrance of the living room, where the five kids were waiting in a formation vaguely reminiscent of a basketball team about to hit the court. Every gaze locked onto the newcomer with a mix of curiosity, assessment, and, in Mike's case, outright preemptive hostility.

Eddie stopped. He looked over each of the kids one by one, and Steve could see the exact instant his brain processed the scene: five kids of different ages, builds, and races, crammed into a living room that didn't seem big enough to hold them all. His expression wasn't one of horror, as Steve had hoped, but of astonishment. Like someone observing a fascinating natural phenomenon.

"Hell," he said, and he sounded genuinely impressed. "Five. For real. When you said five, I thought maybe you were exaggerating. Or counting the cat, or one of them was a nephew visiting. But no. Five. Flesh and blood. And they're all here." He let out a short laugh. "Hi, by the way. I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson. The… well, the friend of your… the one who…" He paused, searching for the right word to define Steve without messing it up. "The one who asked your dad out. Is it dad? Father figure? Legal guardian? Steve?"

"Dad's fine," Steve answered, feeling his cheeks burn. "Guys, this is Eddie. The Alpha I told you about."

"Hi, Eddie," the five greeted in unison, with very different nuances. Will was the warmest; Mike, the driest. Dustin looked about to burst with pent-up excitement. Max smiled with her usual cheekiness. And Lucas nodded seriously, taking on his role as the responsible eldest son.

Eddie contemplated them a moment longer, with a strange expression that Steve couldn't interpret. Then, as if he'd made a decision, he stepped forward and gave them a theatrical bow that made all his rings jingle.

"It's an honor to meet you, little Harringtons. Or whatever you call yourselves. I promise to be a worthy companion this afternoon and not to do anything that makes you want to throw me off a cliff. At least for the first hour."

Dustin burst out laughing, and it was contagious; Will caught it, and to everyone's surprise, so did Max. Even Mike managed something close to a smile, though he wiped it off immediately. Steve watched the scene with a mixture of relief and unease. Relief because the first contact hadn't been a disaster. Unease because Eddie, far from feeling intimidated, seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.

"Well," Eddie announced, rubbing his hands together. "I've planned several things for this afternoon. Several very fun things. Things that, in theory, kids like. I've done research, I've asked around, I've read brochures. Are you ready for an adventure?"

"What kind of adventure?" Dustin asked, stepping forward with a gleam in his eyes.

"An adventure..." Eddie replied, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "That includes a movie, an amusement park, and junk food. Any objections?"

No one had any.

Eddie's van was exactly as Steve had imagined it: old, beat-up, and covered in heavy metal band stickers. In the back, a makeshift mattress served as a seat, and the kids piled onto it with a mix of fascination and caution. The interior smelled of leather, gasoline, and that musky scent Steve was already beginning to associate hopelessly with the Alpha.

"Put your seatbelt on," Eddie told him, nodding toward the passenger seat. "And you little grasshoppers back there, hold on tight. I drive like a reasonably cautious person, but the van shakes a lot. It's old. It has character."

Steve obeyed, feeling strangely out of place in the passenger seat. Behind him, the kids murmured among themselves, commenting on the van's stickers and the chaos that reigned in the back: cassette tapes scattered on the floor, crumpled sheet music, an acoustic guitar leaning against the window.

"Do you really have a band?" Dustin asked, sticking his head between the front seats. "Or was that just a tactic to impress... Dad?"

"Dustin," Steve scolded him, but Eddie was already laughing.

"No, no, that's a fair question." The Alpha started the engine, which roared like a wounded animal before settling into a purr. "Yeah, I have a band. It's called Corroded Coffin, we play metal. Heavy metal. The kind that lifts the spirit."

"And are you any good?" Mike inquired, with his usual defiant tone.

"Mike," Steve started again, but Eddie raised a hand to stop him.

"We're humbly good." Eddie turned the wheel, merging onto the main road. "We've played a few bars around town. Right now we've only got a small following. But hey, everything's built from the ground up. Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither was Metallica."

"Metallica's cool," Will commented from the back.

Eddie whipped his head around so fast the van gave a little swerve.

"A little metalhead in the family? Steve, why didn't you tell me you had a kid with good musical taste?"

"There are a lot of things I haven't told you," Steve murmured, and immediately regretting it when Eddie shot him a piercing look.

"I hope so, I like surprises."

The drive to the movie theater was far more relaxed than Steve had anticipated. Eddie turned out to be a natural conversationalist, someone who could go from talking about Kirk Hammett's guitar solos to asking the kids about their favorite video games with astonishing ease. When he discovered that several of them were into Dungeons & Dragons, his enthusiasm skyrocketed to stratospheric levels.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he exclaimed, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "You guys play D&D? Seriously? Dungeons & Dragons? The most underrated game in history?"

"We're fanatics," Dustin confirmed, nodding vigorously. "We have a group. We call it The Party. Well, Mike came up with the name..."

"Mike!" Eddie sought the boy out in the rearview mirror. "You're the mastermind behind the name? Tell me, what class do you play?"

"Paladin," Mike replied, somewhat surprised by the Alpha's genuine interest. "Usually."

"Interesting. The leader of the group, breaks the rules when necessary but follows his own code. And you, Dustin?"

"Bard," Dustin said, and Eddie let out a laugh so genuine that even Steve had to smile.

"Bard! Perfect! The bard is the best class! The one who talks, who persuades, who seduces! You, Dustin, are my new best friend! Sorry, Steve, but the rules of D&D take precedence over romantic dates."

"It's fine," Steve replied, surprising himself. "I'm already used to playing second fiddle when D&D is involved."

Will, who had been silent for most of the drive, perked up at the conversation about the game.

"I play as a Cleric," he said in his shy voice. "I also like drawing the dungeon maps."

Eddie looked at him through the rearview mirror, and his expression visibly softened.

"Cleric. Support, healing, and hurling fireballs. Two sides of the same coin. Very good choice, little one. Very good."

Steve watched the interaction with a strange feeling in his stomach. This wasn't going the way he'd planned. The kids were supposed to be unbearable. Eddie was supposed to feel overwhelmed, uncomfortable, out of place. But instead, the Alpha was there, talking about Dungeons & Dragons as if he were just another member of the group, winning the kids over with an ease that was almost insulting.

When they arrived at the movie theater, Eddie flat-out refused to let Steve pay for the tickets.

"No way," he said, pushing Steve's hand away when he tried to pull out his wallet. "This is my treat. I'm treating you and your brood. The brood is included in the deal, at no extra cost."

"Eddie, that’s five tickets on top of ours. That's a fortune."

"I'll survive." Eddie winked at him. "Besides, I've been saving up. I had a goal. A goal that measured about five feet eleven inches, had perfectly styled hair, smelled delicious, and worked in an ice cream shop. This is part of the investment plan."

Steve's chest warmed in a dangerous way, so he just murmured a «thanks» and let Eddie head to the ticket booth. While the Alpha bought the tickets, Dustin sidled up to Steve.

"Hey," he whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "Wasn't this guy supposed to be an idiot? Because to me he seems like the complete opposite."

"Hush," Steve hissed, though he couldn't help his eyes drifting toward Eddie's back, who was at that moment negotiating with the ticket seller about seats. "It's part of the plan, first impressions. He'll get tired later."

"I don't know, Steve." Dustin scratched the back of his neck. "He seems like the kind who doesn't get tired. He's like us with D&D. We can play for ten hours straight without even noticing."

That was exactly what Steve feared. That Eddie Munson wasn't the kind who got tired. That he was the kind who insisted. The kind who stayed.

When Eddie returned with the tickets, he also brought a giant bucket of popcorn and a bag of assorted candy.

"For the little ones," he announced, handing out the bags among the kids with a generosity that provoked cheers of enthusiasm. "And for the big one," he added, handing Steve a packet of his favorite chocolates. "Something special. I saw you buy them once at the mall, when you were leaving work. I figured you liked them."

Steve stared at the packet of chocolates, feeling his heart race.

"You notice that?" he murmured, genuinely thrown.

"I notice everything you do, Harrington." Eddie smiled, and there was something warm and sincere in that smile that disarmed any defense. "It's a problem. I should probably seek professional help. But in the meantime, chocolate."

The movie Eddie had chosen was a horror film. A recent release about a haunted house and a family who moved in without knowing what awaited them. When Steve asked if he was sure the kids could watch it, all five protested in unison with such vehemence that the Omega had no choice but to give in.

"They've seen worse things," he murmured to himself, thinking of Demogorgons and the Upside Down. "Much worse."

They found their seats in the middle of the theater, the kids spread out in one row with Steve and Eddie right behind them. The lights dimmed slowly and the opening credits began to scroll across the screen. For a while, everything proceeded in relative calm. Then, as was predictable, the kids started arguing.

"I want to sit next to Will," Mike protested, shoving Dustin.

"I'm already sitting! I'm not moving!" Dustin shot back, clinging to the armrest.

"Well, you're moving. Will is my best friend."

"Will is everyone's friend. You don't have exclusive rights."

"Boys!" Steve hissed, leaning forward. "Quiet. We're in a movie theater."

"But Dustin—"

"No ‘buts.’ You both shut up or there's no amusement park."

The threat had its effect. Mike and Dustin crossed their arms, sulking, and turned their attention back to the screen. Eddie, meanwhile, had leaned toward Steve and was speaking in his ear in a whisper so low only he could hear.

"Your kids are incredible," he said, and his warm breath brushed Steve's skin, sending an involuntary shiver through him. "Seriously. They have personality, character. They argue, but you can tell they love each other. That's down to you, you know? You've done a good job."

Steve felt his heart in his throat. He'd done a good job? Him? The guy who couldn't even keep a plant alive? The one who'd invented five kids to scare off an Alpha and ended up in a monumental mess?

"T-Thanks," he murmured, not quite knowing what else to say. "I do what I can."

"You do a lot. It shows." Eddie leaned back in his seat, but his shoulder stayed brushing against Steve's, a light contact that neither of them bothered to break. "And you're incredible too, by the way. In case I hadn't told you today. I can't remember."

Steve didn't answer, but his cheeks, which had already taken on an impossible-to-hide pink tone, spoke for him. Luckily, the darkness of the theater concealed his blush. Unluckily, his scent—which had turned sweeter and warmer—was impossible to hide from an Alpha nose like Eddie's. And Steve knew, from the way Eddie discreetly inhaled and smiled in the dim light, that he'd noticed.

The movie turned out to be better than expected. The scares were effective without being grotesque, and the plot maintained the tension right to the end. The kids, who at first wouldn't stop whispering comments about every scene, became completely absorbed as the story progressed, and when the first ghost appeared, Max instinctively grabbed Lucas's arm, who said nothing but let her hold on.

When it ended, as the credits rolled up the screen and the lights came on slowly, all five were euphoric, loudly discussing their favorite scenes and arguing over which ghost was the scariest.

"The one in the mirror," Mike was saying. "Clearly the one in the mirror."

"No, the one in the basement," Dustin countered. "The one in the basement was way worse. Basements are always worse. Mirrors only reflect, but basements hide things."

"That doesn’t make any sense."

"It makes total sense. It's basic psychology."

"You don't know anything about psychology."

"I know more than you."

"Kids," Eddie intervened, getting to his feet and stretching, "what do you say we continue this thrilling discussion about the terrifying properties of basements and mirrors at the amusement park? We've got roller coasters, cotton candy, and probably indigestion waiting for us. Deal?"

"Deal!" The five chorused, and they shot out toward the movie theater exit like a flock of restless birds.

The amusement park was a short distance away, a bright and noisy enclosure that contrasted with the darkness of the movie theater. Neon lights flickered in every direction, painting the night sky with vibrant colors. Music from the rides mixed with the screams of the visitors, and the smell of popcorn and hot dogs filled the air.

Eddie bought a generous amount of tickets and dealt them out to the kids like cards from a deck.

"You each get twenty. Use them wisely. Or maybe not... Spend them on whatever you want, wisdom is overrated."

"What about you two?" Will asked, looking alternately at Steve and Eddie.

"We're going to take a walk," Eddie replied, and his tone was light but his eyes, resting on Steve, held an intensity that belied the nonchalance of his words. "Adult stuff. Boring conversations. The park is safe, don't wander too far, and above all, don't get into fights with strangers, unless you know how to handle yourselves."

The kids scattered among the rides, already arguing about which one to go on first. Dustin was dragging Mike toward the roller coaster, while Lucas, Max, and Will headed for the bumper cars. Steve watched them go with a mix of relief and nervousness. Now he was alone with Eddie. No kids. No excuses.

"Shall we walk?" the Alpha suggested, pointing to a path that skirted the edge of the park, away from the hustle and bustle of the rides. "That way we can talk a little. Quietly."

Steve nodded. They walked in silence for a few minutes, leaving behind the fairground booths and the flashing lights. The noise gradually faded, replaced by the distant murmur of the crowd and the hum of electric generators. The night was warm and pleasant, and a light breeze stirred the leaves of the trees lining the path.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, breaking the silence. "You seem... tense. Did I do something wrong? Did I mess something up?"

"No, no, not at all." Steve shook his head, perhaps with too much emphasis. "Quite the opposite. You're doing... well. Really well. Incredibly well. The kids are thrilled, I... I am too."

"Then why do you have that face?"

"What face?"

"That ‘I'm looking for the perfect moment to make a run for it’ face." Eddie stopped, forcing Steve to do the same. His dark eyes scanned the Omega's face with an unsettling perceptiveness. "It's not a criticism, just an observation. I've spent a lot of time reading facial expressions. It's a hobby. Like crossword puzzles, but with people."

Steve hesitated. For an instant, he seriously considered telling him the truth. Spilling everything: the fake kids, the lie, the plan to scare him off, the absurd meeting in his living room, the rehearsals, the made-up ages. All of it. But then he remembered Eddie's smile when he introduced himself to the kids, the enthusiasm with which he'd talked about Dungeons & Dragons, the chocolates he'd bought because he remembered what Steve liked. And he felt like he couldn't. Not yet. Not now. Right now he just wanted to enjoy this farce a little longer, even if it was the last night before everything came crashing down.

"It's just that..." Steve searched for the right words. "I'm not used to this. To someone making this much effort. To someone really wanting to get to know me. To someone accepting the kids without any objections. Most of the Alphas I've dated... well, let's just say they weren't like you."

"What am I like?" Eddie asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Weird," Steve answered, and he immediately rushed to add; "In a good way. A really good way. You're weird and strange and you say things I don't understand, but... but I like it. I like the way you are. I like the way you are with the kids. I like that you didn't give up at the first hurdle. I like..." He stopped, aware that he was saying too much, and looked away toward the ground. "I like this, the date, everything. Even though I shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't you?" Eddie's voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"Because I..." Steve bit his lip, feeling the words get stuck in his throat. "Because I'm scared. That this isn't real, that it's too good to be true, that at some point you'll get tired. That at some point you'll leave."

Eddie stood very still, looking at Steve with an expression that was both tender and painfully serious. Then, slowly, he reached out a hand and took Steve's in his. His fingers, cold from the silver rings, intertwined with the Omega's with a gentleness that contrasted with the roughness of his guitarist’s calluses.

"Steve," he said, and his voice was deeper than ever, stripped of all theatricality, "I'm not the kind who gives up. I'm not the kind who leaves. I've spent my whole life being the weirdo, the outcast, the one who doesn't fit in. And when I saw you for the first time, I thought, ‘This Omega is too much for me. Too handsome, too fascinating, too perfect.’ But then I got to know you. We talked a little. And I found out you weren't perfect. You were human. With your fears, your insecurities, your defenses. And I liked that even more. Because I'm not perfect either. I'm a mess. A mess with a guitar and a band that's probably going nowhere. But I'm here, with you. And I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Steve felt his eyes sting dangerously. He blinked several times, refusing to cry, but his scent had already turned so sweet and vulnerable that Eddie couldn't help breathing it in with a small, wonder-filled smile.

"C’mon," the Alpha said, tugging gently at his hand to resume walking. "Let's go find your little ones and get something to eat. Then, when they're stuffed and exhausted, we'll take them home and you and I can talk a little more. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Steve replied, and he was surprised at how easy it was to say it. At how natural it felt to walk hand in hand with Eddie Munson through an amusement park, leaving the lies and excuses behind, even if only for one night.

They found the kids by the Ferris wheel, wrapped up in a heated debate over who had won at bumper cars. When they saw Steve and Eddie approaching together, their hands still intertwined, Dustin let out a whistle that earned him an elbow to the ribs from Max.

"Well, well," Mike sang, crossing his arms with a smug smile. "Looks like the date is going well."

"Silence, Mike," Steve growled, but he didn't let go of Eddie's hand.

"No, no, let him," Eddie intervened, laughing. "He's right. The date is going very well. So well I'd even dare say it's the best date of my life."

"You’re so sappy," Max declared, though a spark of approval glinted in her eyes. "Can we go eat something now? I'm starving."

They spotted a hot dog stand near the park exit—a little wooden booth with a red-and-white striped awning and a vendor in a paper hat who served them with a tired smile. They bought hot dogs for everyone, loaded with ketchup and mustard, and sat down on some nearby benches to devour them under the twinkling light of the streetlamps.

That was when the kids began their interrogation.

"Eddie," Dustin said, his mouth full of bun and sausage. "How did you meet Dad?"

"In a bar," Eddie answered, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "I was playing with my band one rainy night a few months ago. We were in the middle of a guitar solo, and I looked up and saw this guy," he pointed at Steve with his hot dog. "Leaning against the bar, in his jean jacket and his perfect hair, looking at me like I was a Martian. And I thought, ‘I have to meet this Omega. I have to know why he's looking at a guy playing heavy metal in a dive bar like that.’ So when we finished the song, I got off the stage and introduced myself. And he said to me, ‘I don't like heavy metal.’ Just like that, no filter."

"And what did you do?" Will asked, completely absorbed in the story.

"I laughed. I laughed a lot. Because no Omega had ever said something like that to me so honestly. And then I said to him, ‘When I was little I didn't like it at first either, but then you grow up and learn to appreciate the good things in life.’ And then he asked me what good things heavy metal had, and I spent twenty minutes listing them. Twenty minutes. I told him about the riffs, the drums, the energy, the catharsis, the history of the genre. And when I finished, he looked at me and said, ‘Okay. Maybe it's not so bad.’ And I nearly melted."

"So cheesy," Max commented, but she was smiling.

"And why did you take notice of Steve?" Lucas insisted. "I mean, besides the hair and the jacket. What did you see in him?"

Eddie took a moment to answer. He chewed his hot dog slowly, took a sip of his soda, and looked at Steve with an expression that made the Omega feel his stomach clench.

"I saw someone who was trying to act tougher than he was. Someone who was trying hard to fit in, to be liked, to be accepted. And I know that feeling. I know it really well. I've spent my whole life trying to fit in and failing spectacularly. So when I saw him there, with his popular-kid façade and his «don't talk to me, I'm very important» look, I knew that underneath all of that was someone who just wanted to be truly loved. And I thought, ‘Maybe I can be that someone. Maybe I can truly love him.’"

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the kids, who were rarely at a loss for words, stayed quiet. Dustin was looking at Eddie with eyes shining in admiration. Max had stopped chewing. Mike was frowning, but it was a thoughtful frown, not a hostile one. Lucas was smiling. And Will was watching Steve with an expression of sweet complicity, as if he knew something the others didn't.

Steve, for his part, felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever seen past his façade with such clarity. No one had ever put into such simple, sincere words what he himself had felt for years without knowing how to name.

"You make a cute couple," Dustin said suddenly, breaking the spell with his characteristic lack of tact.

"Dustin!" Steve exclaimed, snapping back to reality. "Shut up!"

"It's true. You make a cute couple. It's a compliment. Accept it."

Eddie laughed, an open, frank laugh that infected the others. Even Mike smiled without irony, for the first time all night. Steve tried to maintain his expression of indignation, but failed spectacularly, and ended up laughing too, shaking his head in resignation.

The rest of the evening passed among laughter and conversations. The kids, worn out from the rides and the food, gradually settled down. Max fell asleep against Lucas's shoulder. Mike was yawning openly. Dustin was still talking nonstop, but his sentences were increasingly disjointed. Even Will was starting to nod off.

"Time to go home," Steve announced, getting to his feet. "Come on, little ones. You need to rest tomorrow."

"But tomorrow's Sunday," Dustin protested weakly.

"Exactly, day of rest. To the car."

The drive back in Eddie's van was quiet and peaceful. The kids piled together in the back, leaning on one another, and within a few minutes they were all asleep. Eddie drove slowly, carefully, avoiding potholes and sharp turns. The radio played at a very low volume, a rock ballad Steve didn't know but found strangely beautiful.

"You okay?" Eddie asked in a whisper, without taking his eyes off the road.

"I'm fine," Steve replied, and was surprised to find it was true. "I'm really fine."

"I’m glad. Me too."

They looked at each other for an instant—just an instant—before Eddie focused back on driving. But that brief eye contact was enough for Steve to feel a pleasant warmth in his chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the car's heater and everything to do with the Alpha sitting beside him.

When they got to Steve's house, the kids woke up just enough to get out of the van and drag themselves inside. Steve led them to the living room, where he'd set up sleeping bags and blankets for everyone, and within minutes they were fast asleep again, a tangle of bodies snoring softly.

Steve stepped out onto the porch, closing the door carefully so as not to make noise. Eddie was waiting, leaning against the railing, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, his hair tousled by the wind and his eyes shining under the porch light.

"Well," the Alpha said, with a weary but happy smile. "I think it was a success. Mission accomplished. Kids entertained, Omega charmed, Alpha even more charmed. Have I earned myself a second date?"

Steve walked toward him, slowly, feeling that every step he took was a step toward something unknown and terrifying but also wonderful. He stopped just inches from Eddie—close enough to catch his warm, musky scent, close enough to make out the golden flecks that dotted his dark eyes.

"Eddie," he said, and his voice sounded steadier than he'd expected, "I have to tell you something. Something important."

"Another bombshell announcement?" Eddie arched an eyebrow, but his tone was light. "Are you going to tell me you also have a dog? A parrot? An army of hamsters? Because let me remind you, I've already accepted five kids. A few more hamsters aren't going to make a difference."

"No." Steve took a deep breath, gathering all the courage he had left. "It's about the kids. They're not... they're not actually... they're not my kids."

Silence settled between them like a glass wall. Eddie stopped smiling, but he didn't look angry. He simply stayed very still, watching Steve with an inscrutable expression.

"They're not my kids," Steve repeated, and the words spilled out in a rush, tripping over one another. "I made it all up. The five kids thing. It was a stupid lie to scare you off. A friend told me that if I told you I had kids you'd run, and I... I wanted you to run. Because I was scared. Scared you only wanted to mess around with me. Scared it wasn't something serious. Scared that as soon as you got what you wanted, you'd leave. So I made up the whole thing about the kids. But then you said plans change, and that you wanted to meet them, and I panicked and rounded up the kids from the neighborhood and asked them to pretend to be my kids. And they agreed. And all of this, this whole night, has been a farce. A farce I set up myself because I'm an idiot. An idiot who can't accept that someone might truly love him."

He fell silent, panting slightly, waiting for the blow. The disappointment, the fury, the contempt. But Eddie said nothing. He stayed staring at him, his eyes wide, his face unreadable. A few seconds passed—which to Steve felt like hours—before the Alpha finally spoke.

"Okay," he said.

Steve blinked.

"Okay? Just ‘okay’? You're not mad? You're not going to yell at me? You're not going to turn around and leave forever?"

"Do you want me to turn around and leave forever?"

"No!" The answer came from the depths of his soul, without thinking, and Steve startled himself with the vehemence of his own voice. "I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay, I want..." He broke off, biting his lip. "I want to keep seeing you. If you want to. If you're not too mad at me for lying to you."

Eddie smiled. A small, slow smile, like the first light of dawn after a dark night.

"Steve Harrington," he said, and his voice sounded velvety but firm. "Do you know what I thought when I saw those five kids in your living room? I thought, ‘This is too weird to be true. Too motley. Too chaotic.’ For a moment, I suspected. But then I thought, ‘What does it matter? What does it matter if they're his kids or not? I'm here, with Steve, having an incredible night, laughing like I haven't laughed in years. What does the rest matter?’ So I decided not to overthink it. I decided to enjoy the night and let things flow. And now here you are, confirming it. And instead of being angry, what I feel is... relief."

"Relief?" Steve repeated, not believing what he was hearing.

"Relief. Because it means I don't have to worry about whether the kids will accept me. They already accept me. They like me. They told me I'm cool. That's a noble title, Steve. Not just anyone gets that."

"But... but I lied to you. I set up a whole farce with child actors and a whiteboard and rehearsals. Doesn't that seem... I don't know... psychotic to you?"

"It seems to me," Eddie took a step toward him, closing the distance between their bodies to mere inches. "That you did all that because you were scared. And that's understandable. I'm scared too. I'm scared of not being good enough for you, of you getting tired of my weirdness, of one day you looking at me and thinking, ‘What am I doing with this guy who talks too much and plays in a band with no future?’ But I'm here. In spite of the fear. And you're here too. And you've told me the truth. That's what matters."

Steve felt the world sway around him, but this time it wasn't from panic. It was from something entirely different—something warm and luminous that was pushing its way through the cracks in his defenses, shattering them one by one.

"So," he asked, almost breathless. "You're not mad?"

"No." Eddie shook his head, and his smile widened. "I'm the opposite of mad. I'm... how do you say it? Reverse mad? Glad? Happy? Yeah, happy. I'm happy. Because you were honest with me. And because now I know I don't have five kids to take care of. Though, honestly, I would've liked it. They're good kids. A little loud, but good kids."

"They're a headache," Steve murmured, but he was smiling. He couldn't help it. "But yeah, they're good kids. The best."

"So, do we keep them?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, amused. "I mean, for future dates. We can invite them from time to time. To the movies, to the park, to concerts. It would be fun. A kind of makeshift family. The Munson-Harrington family, or Harrington-Munson, or whatever you want to call it."

Steve didn't know what to say. He'd run out of words. So, instead of speaking, he did the only thing his body had been begging him to do for hours. He leaned forward and kissed Eddie.

It was a brief, clumsy kiss, more a brush of lips than anything else—but it made Steve's heart race as if he'd broken into a sprint. Eddie stayed still for a fraction of a second, as if he couldn't believe what was happening, and then he responded with a disarming tenderness. One of his hands came up to Steve's cheek, stroking it with his thumb, while the other settled on his waist, pulling him closer. The silver rings were cold against the Omega's skin, but the Alpha's touch was warm and steady, and his musky scent wrapped around him like a familiar refuge.

When they pulled apart, both were breathless. Eddie's eyes were bright and a goofy smile lingered on his lips, that smile that made Steve's stomach flip.

"Wow," the Alpha murmured. "That was... wow."

"I'm sorry," Steve said, though he wasn't sorry at all. "I should have warned you."

"No, no, don't apologize. You can kiss me whenever you want. Without warning. With warning. Doesn't matter. The point is you can kiss me." Eddie let out a nervous laugh. "God, I'm saying stupid things. It happens when pretty Omegas kiss me. I lose the ability to form coherent sentences."

Steve laughed too, and it was a light, genuine laugh, liberating. As if all the weight of the lie and the fear had vanished in an instant.

"So, is that a yes?" he asked. "You want to go out with me again?"

"Steve," Eddie said, and his tone was serious but his eyes shone with irrepressible joy, "I've been waiting for you to say that since the first day I saw you. Of course I want to go out with you again. And the next time. And the next. And every time you'll let me." He leaned in again, tightening his hands on Steve's waist to draw him into another kiss—this one deeper and more certain.

Behind the glass door of the living room, five pairs of eyes watched the scene in complete silence. The kids had woken up when they realized Steve hadn’t come back into the house.

They hardly dared to breathe, pressed against the window, trying not to miss a single detail.

"They're kissing," Dustin whispered, unnecessarily.

"We can see that, genius," Mike replied, though his tone lacked its usual acidity.

"Does that mean the plan worked?" Will asked, in his innocent voice.

"Steve's plan failed spectacularly," Max corrected, smiling. "But I think it's the best thing that could have happened."

"Definitely," Lucas agreed, putting an arm around Max's shoulders. "That Eddie’s a good guy. Way better than all the Alphas Steve's dated before."

"And he likes D&D," Dustin added, his eyes shining. "And heavy metal. And nothing scares him. He's perfect."

"He's not perfect," Mike said, but his tone was thoughtful, not critical. "He's weird. But he's the kind of weird that's right for Steve."

"Look who's talking," Max joked, elbowing Mike. "Mister ‘I'm too cool to have feelings.’"

"Don't start, Max."

They kept watching in silence as Eddie wrapped Steve in a hug, and the two of them stayed like that, swaying gently under the porch light, oblivious to the child audience spying on them from inside the house.

"Well," Will said, yawning. "I think we can say the mission was a success. Not the original plan, but the mission."

"The mission was always to find someone who made Steve happy," Dustin pointed out. "Even if he didn't know it."

"That's deep, Henderson," Max commented.

"I know. I have my moments."

Outside, on the porch, Eddie pulled back slightly from the hug to look Steve in the eyes. His expression was serious, but a smile was forming on his lips, as if he couldn't help it.

"So," he said. "Tomorrow, are you up for another plan? Something quieter. No kids, no parks, no lies. Just you and me."

"Just you and me," Steve repeated, savoring the words. "I like how that sounds."

"Perfect." Eddie gave him one last kiss, brief but intense. "I'll pick you up at noon so we can have lunch together. And now go inside. You have five kids to take care of, even if they're not yours. And you need sleep. You have bags under your eyes."

"Thanks, so flattering."

"Always at your service."

Steve stayed on the porch until the taillights of Eddie's van disappeared down the street. Then, with a smile he couldn't wipe off his face, he went inside. The kids had scattered quickly toward their sleeping bags, pretending to have been deeply asleep for hours, but Steve wasn't fooled.

"I saw you peeking through the window," he said, leaning against the doorframe of the living room. "So you can stop pretending."

"We don't know what you're talking about," Dustin replied, his eyes firmly shut.

"Of course you don't." Steve smiled, shaking his head. "Thank you, guys. All of you. For this. For everything."

There was a murmur of sleepy responses, and then silence. Steve turned off the lights and headed toward the shower, but before he closed the door, he heard Max's voice, low and clear in the darkness.

"Well done, Harrington. Well done."