Chapter Text
He looked around the little apartment that they called home, watched as the love of his life sat blissfully unaware on the couch watching TV, and finished up his phone call. His eyes filled with tears when he put the landline down. He tried to take a deep breath, not wanting to worry the boy on the couch, but it must’ve been shaky because then they were making eye contact.
“Daddy? What’s wrong daddy?”
And before he could even blink, little legs ran over and collided with him, not wasting a second to wrap around his knees. “No cry daddy, no cry. Love you.”
His little voice wobbled, and god, Steve nearly burst into tears. His son was so good. He picked him up and brought him close in his arms, his little legs wrapping around his waist. He peppered his little freckled face with kisses, making him giggle. “And I love you baby boy. Daddy’s fine.”
“But cry.” He insisted.
Smart. So smart. God, Steve was never smart, he must’ve got it from Nancy. And that thought hurt. Because then he was thinking of the phone call. Of Nancy. Her wedding with Jonathan. She wanted them to be there. So he nodded down at his little boy, their boy, and gave him a watery smile.
“Yeah a little. Mommy’s getting married!” He tried to make his voice sound excited, must have worked because the kid looked a little confused at first.
“Daddy is fine?”
“Yes, daddy is fine.” God he was so thankful his kid was too young to hear the not quite there waver. “Do you wanna go see mommy get all dressed up and get married? You remember Jonathan?”
His big brown eyes furrowed a little as he thought, before nodding and letting out a satisfied “Jonny.” His voice as serious as a four year old could sound.
“Yeah baby, Jonny and mommy are getting married.”
“Okay.”
He leaned his head into Steve’s neck and Steve could feel his lashes on his throat.
“Snack?”
Steve Harrington let his eyes roll back as he laughed at the ceiling, one hand on his boys fluffy hair. “Yeah, buddy let's have a snack.”
And then the boy rocked out of his neck, suddenly full of energy and leaning back out of his hold to be put down. Little feet hit the ground and then he was off, running around their apartment talking a mile a minute and grabbing random toys to play with and having stories to tell them as he goes. Steve watches him go. He sighs, feeling much older than the twenty-six he was as he turns to start cutting up an apple and a pear.
Nancy and Jonathan were getting married. They wanted him to bring Joey and live near them. They wanted him to give up his, admittedly; a little mediocre, life here with the freedom Hawkins never gave him. To be a part of their lives, so they can be a part of Joey’s life, and by extension, his own.
His boy wasn’t in school yet, and it wouldn’t be that hard to find somewhere near them that would make what Nancy had asked for easier. And he did owe her a little. Not that he’d ever take back this. His boy, in the living room singing a song he made up and dancing along, a toy bouncing around him in a tight grip. But she was asking a lot. And Joey was still hers, would never not let her see him. To go back to Hawkins? To face hell like it was nothing? That was scary. But he was also a single dad, with no support system in a dingy apartment in a big city. His college degree earned and diploma hanging framed right next to his favorite picture of Joey. He could make it work. For them, for Joey. He would do anything for him.
He sighed, wiping his hands on a dish towel before throwing it over his shoulder. Fruit plated up and arranged to look pleasing to his toddler.
“Alright, what’re we watchin?” he landed on the couch with a muffled oomph, plate balanced in one hand.
“Rats! Daddy Rats!” he screamed as he jumped up onto the couch to sit beside Steve, little hand going for an apple slice.
“Rugrats, little one.” He told him gently as his hand grabbed the remote on autopilot and flipped to the station that plays Rugrats.
“ ‘swhat I said daddy.” He said matter of factly, little mouth nearly spitting out his apple.
“Sure buddy.”
And they sat and watched the show and ate their snack. Steve, going through a mental list of things he needed to do, that hopefully, wouldn’t upset his little boy. He loved him more than anything, and he didn’t want to do something that would hurt him in the end. But he’d have the big family that Steve had always wanted growing up, and that was a pretty big deal.
First things first, get a job. There was probably a shortage of teachers in Hawkins, there always was. If he could get a job lined up, a place to live would surely be easier to come across after. He looked over at Joey and saw him sprawled out on his couch cushion, softly snoring away, face slightly sticky from the fruit. Yeah, first a job. He could do this. This impossible task asked of him, for Joey. He gets off the couch slowly to not wake him, and pads into the kitchen. He grabs the phonebook and looks up the number he wants before punching it in and pressing dial, not backing out.
It's surprisingly easy to get an interview after he tells them his last name, and he feels disgusted before remembering that everything he’s doing right now will be for Joey in the long run. So he can have the big happy family and loving parents. So he can experience real friendships. He takes a watery breath and rubs a hand across his eyes, glad his glasses are on the nightstand where he forgot them last.
For Joey.
He grabs the phone back up and calls Nancy.
“Hello?” a voice asks.
Steve winces. “Hey Jon how’s it goin? It’s,” he hesitates before finishing lamely, “Steve.”
“Hey man, did ya need Nance?”
He’s giving him an out of this conversation, and he takes it gratefully. Still awkward even after years of being mostly friendly to each other. “Yes please.”
He hears a muffled call for Nancy over the line and before it can be handed off to her, he finally gains some courage. “Hey John?”
“Yup?”
“Congrats man. For real. I’m happy for you both.” He finally gets out, his throat feels a little too tight, but not in the way he expects Jon to think.
There’s a moment of silence, and then Steve can just hear the lovesick grin on his face, “Yeah, I got really lucky.”
And then the phone is rustling and Nancy is on the line with him. “Hey Steve.” She is smiling, he can hear it over the phone, can practically feel her happiness over the phone.
“So I got an interview at Hawkins High, was wondering if we could crash with you for a few days. To do the interview and home shopping I guess. Probably will rent a motel room out to get out of your hair. Just a few days I promise. Shit, I’m rambling.” He sighs as he rubs a hand over his tired eyes again, sliding it back through his hair. “I’m actually asking to much, aren’t I? Shit. Forget it. Sorry.”
“Steve.” She’s using that tone she used to use when he was being a horny teen, but it worked, he stopped rambling.
“Nance.”
“Of course we can let you stay. We missed you guys.”
Her voice is softer, happy. He hates the way it makes his heart twist with shame. “When will you be coming up? We can get the guestroom settled.”
He laughs nervously.
“Steve?” she asks, like she knows the answer isn’t going to make her happy. She’s right, but he doesn’t want to tell her. “Steve.” She says again, more forcefully.
“The interview is next week. The school year starts two weeks after that.” He lets out a defeated breath. “I promise we will get out of your hair by the school year. Planning was never my strong suit, one too many concussions.” He lets out a nervous laugh at her silence. “Nance?”
“When should we expect you, Steve?” She sounds like she’s thinking. She probably is. Probably has her planner in front of her.
“Probably in a few days, get the kiddo settled, and gives me time to look around at houses.” He thinks about what day it is. “Maybe,” he hesitates, “Sunday?” he poses this as a question, but the more he thinks about it, the surer he is. Sunday; driving, Monday and Tuesday; settling Joey and showing him around his family. Wednesday; nail that interview and score a job. Easy peasy. “Yeah, Sunday.” He nods, knowing she can't see him.
“Is that enough time to pack up everything?” She asks.
He knows she doesn’t know, doesn’t blame her for not knowing. He looks around his barely furnished home, at the little decoration he can afford to have. At the cheap hand-me-down toys that Joey loves with his whole being. Thinks about the room he shares with his child, one bed between them. One dresser with all their clothes. “Oh yeah,” he plays his silence off with a laugh, “It’ll be fine.”
This is for Joey, he chants in his head, this is for Joey. Like repeating it will make the curl of shame in his chest disappear.
“Okay Steve,” he hears the pity, hates it. “okay, we’ll see you Sunday.”
“See you then!” he calls to her, faux cheer in his voice as he puts up the phone for the last time tonight.
Looks around the corner at his sleeping baby. The light of his life. At the way his face is lax and uncaring. Sleeping dreamlessly and unbothered. And finally allows himself a moment to break. He slides down the wall and pulls his knees to his chest and tries so very hard to not shatter. Tries to be the adult his kid needs, tries to settle his breathing back into a normal rhythm before Joey wakes back up.
But memories of Hawkins slide behind his eyes. Of how he treated everyone there. Of how he acted. Of him with Nancy, and later with Jonathan. Of the little miracle, the one ounce of joy he got to keep when it became too much. Of how he ran like a coward instead of facing consequences. Things that could have been, and things that won't ever happen.
And he thinks of Joey growing up there. In a place where everyone knows their last name. Of the gossip he’ll likely hear when he finally becomes aware enough to listen. But by then he’ll already know, Steve is determined to tell him everything before anyone can tell him different.
He wipes tears from his eyes, nodding to himself and standing determined from his spot on the hard tile. The next couple of hours are spent in a blur of packing, making dinner, bedtime rituals, more packing. Without Joey needing anything and sleeping away the night soundly, he finished packing way sooner than he had hoped. It only took him three hours altogether to get their lives packed away in three suitcases. One suitcase of just the things Steve considers valuable, all of Joeys toys and his diploma and picture. A random trinket that has much too much value to get rid of. One suitcase of their clothes, most of the room going to Joeys sleeping diapers in case of emergency and their soaps. The third suitcase is staring at him from where he set in on the floor by the rundown couch, mocking him. You don’t have more, nothing to put in here , it seems to say. He refuses to feel bad about not having things, but his kid has never wanted for food or toys, and so he counts it as a win. Shakes his head and takes the suitcases to the car. He sets an alarm for six am when he comes back inside, and finally drifts off, Joey tucked into his side happily.
The scream of his alarm clock is enough to wake him, arm reaching to slap it quickly before it disturbs Joey. But Joey is already yawning and stretching, moving to curl up on Steves' chest.
“Hey buddy, time to get up.” He whispers to the boy on his chest, heart full of love.
“Waffles?”
Steve can’t help but laugh, even half asleep the kid is addicted to waffles. “Yeah bud, waffles.”
Gosh, he reminds him of El sometimes, with his near addiction to waffles. Could just be a kid thing though. Time will tell. He’ll have to ask El too, just to hear about her stance on Eggos and if she’d still fight a man for one. Idly, as he scoots from their bed and leaves Joey laying there for a few minutes longer, he hopes the answer is no. He walks from the bedroom and puts coffee on, before throwing some batter together and warming up the waffle iron.
He gets one full waffle done before Joey toddles out of the room, clutching a stuffed animal to his chest and using his other hand to cover his mouth as he gives a full body yawn. Steve fights back a laugh at the picture his little boy makes; hair a rats nest, face covered in sleep marks, a little bit of drool dried to his cheek. God, his kid was perfect. He pulls a chair out from the table and the little boy climbs onto it sleepily, arms coming up to the surface to pillow his head.
“Want some juice?” Steve asks him, as he pulls another waffle from the maker, that makes four.
“Yes please.” Though it comes out sounding like “y’s ‘lse”.
“Cup or sippy?”
There's silence for a moment as Joey thinks, and Steve feels his heart clench at how serious he can take these questions sometimes.
“Not mad if sippy?” He asks him, voice soft and sleepy still, but slowly becoming more alert.
“Never baby, never mad at you.” Steve tells him as he gets out his favorite sippy cup and pours juice into it, securing the lid, and then sliding it over to him. He also grabs a plate and brings the waffles to place in front of him. One quick kiss on his fluffy; tangled, hair, and then he sits beside him.
Joey looks at his waffles, unimpressed, and then back up at his dad, eyebrows raised in a way no kid has any right of doing and Steve can’t help but laugh at him. At the look on his face. Without saying anything he grabs Joeys plate and starts to cut up the waffles into bite sized pieces. Tries not to dwell on the knowledge at his age he was forced to figure it out or go hungry. And then his waffles were perfectly cut and placed back in front of him, a cup of syrup to be used for dipping beside the plate. He tries not to sigh when Joey picks it up and dumps it on his waffles, coating them thoroughly. Or drenching, he winces.
“What do you say to a little adventure?” He asks finally, when Joey slows down his eating like Steve had never fed him before. He only gets a confused look from Joey. “You wanna go see mommy? And all your aunts and uncles?”
“Uncle Will?”
And Steve swears he can see stars in his eyes as soon as the kid says it. “Yeah bud, uncle Will will be there!” He doesn’t even have to fake enthusiasm; he loves Will Byers to pieces. Has since he had come into his life. And Will is unbelievably good with children, especially his kid.
He just gets cheers in response; little sticky hands fly up into the air with the excitement of someone who just won the lottery. At least the kid is excited.
Steve scoops Joey up, fingers tickling up his sides as he screams with laughter, and takes them both to the bathroom for bath time. He makes sure to comb out Joeys hair first, knowing he hates when it gets pulled in the bath. Gently detangles it as his boy sits comfortably on the edge of the tub, his little feet in the warmed bath water, his favorite bath toy in hand. He taps his shoulder in a go ahead and then he’s in the tub.
He lets him play in the tub for a few minutes, making sure he has clothes nearby for when he gets out and a clean towel. He cleans him up in between imaginary boats being sunk and bubbles being thrust upon him to give him a beard.
One clean Joey later, and a drained tub, has Steve standing in front of him, helping dry off. He squeezes his hair mostly dry, showing off the little curls he got from Nancy and his very large cowlick he got from him. He dressed him up in soft pants and a t-shirt, knowing the car ride would put him to sleep for a little while and wanting him to be comfortable.
His heart clenches in his chest. It’s his turn to get dressed, and then he’s piling them both into the car and taking them straight back to a place he had literally run from once upon a time. He can’t help it if he maybe takes a little longer than normal picking out his outfit, or brushing his hair back. He honestly doesn’t even have the mane of hair he used to, didn’t like how it made him feel. He got rid of it when he decided he was going to be a new person, a better person, for Joey, at least, and himself.
He steps out of the bathroom, takes a look around and grabs Joeys bath toys and their towels, putting them in plastic bags. One last glance through and he looks at himself in the mirror. A little older, hair shorter, maybe less tired. He thinks he can see crows feet from all the smiling he’s done these last couple of years, thinks it looks better than the way his fathers face had always seemed to him. A final nod at the empty room and then he’s shutting the lights off for the last time.
Joey is curled up on the couch. He’s just laying with his stuffed animal and whispering to it. Steve watches for a few seconds before heading closer. “Ready buddy?” he asks, throat a little tight.
Joey looks up, baleful eyes on him, stuffed animal clenched to his chest. “Not coming back.” he states.
Steve can tell he’s a little confused; can’t tell if it’s because he wants to be sad or if he just generally is confused about why they are leaving. “Not coming back.” he echoes to him instead. He sighs and picks Joey up into his arms, cradling his head to his shoulder. “Sorry buddy, but you’ll have so much fun later you’ll forget all about this place.” He won't cry, he refuses.
Joey doesn’t speak, and Steve keeps him in his arms as he does a quick look through of the apartment, making sure he has all of their things. He hears a sniffle and feels tears on his shirt and it takes everything in him to not start crying with him. “What’s wrong Joey?”
“Scared. Like this home.” He gives Steve a little thump on his shoulder, as if emphasizing his point.
“Home is when we’re together buddy. With family. When we are happy and safe. Home can be anywhere.” Steve nearly chokes on his words, Nancy would be so proud of him, he sounds so adult. He just feels him nod into his shoulder, though he knows the tears are still coming.
He stands in the living room, stares at the cracked ceiling and poorly painted wall, at the threadbare carpet. Studies the tv set and dilapidated couch that came with the place. He feels his throat get tight. He knows he hates this stupid apartment, but it gave him something Hawkins never did. It gave him another chance when he didn’t really deserve it. A place to watch his child grow as he also grew into an adult. It gave him a freedom of choice without someone he knew immediately breathing down his neck. He hates it here, but he hates Hawkins more. And now he’s turning back, going right back into the hell hole he calls a hometown, and he has to face the consequences of his actions.
God, growing up sucks. He wipes away a stubborn tear, turns off the overhead light, hitches Joey higher in his arms, and locks the door behind them and heads to the car. He makes sure his new mantra is going through his head as he heads to the interstate. This is for Joey.