Chapter Text
June 28, 1985
Steve Harrington had spent the first eight years of his life in the completely controlled environment of the Hawkins National Laboratory. White walls, shiny tile floor, blinding lights, and almost a constant silence when he wasn’t actively being tested. He spent every day since escaping, grateful the real world was nothing like the lab. It was loud and colorful and full of so many people. Most days, he felt as if he would never run out of things to look at, new experiences to try, people to meet, and emotions to see.
That was until he started working at Starcourt Mall.
The place was oversaturated with colors and neon lights. Every store had its own music playing overhead, at volumes ranging from ‘subtle’ to ‘overbearing nautical-themed instrumentals.’ It was inescapable. And the people. Steve had been to malls before, busy ones, but never one as new as Starcourt. For some reason, the novelty attracted a never-ending supply of shoppers. It was exhausting. Selfishly, it made him wish for just, like, ten minutes back in one of the lab’s perfectly sterile and quiet rooms. Just, y’know, without the child experimentation and torture.
Then Steve came to his senses, sucked it up, and finished scooping the damn double fudge ice cream. Then, he passed the cone over to the expectant customer, flashing a patented Harrington smile.
“Robin,” he said as chipperly as he could manage. “I’m going on my break.”
“Don’t get lost,” Robin Buckley shot back before starting the mandatory Scoops Ahoy greeting.
Steve slid into the hard chairs of the backroom. It wasn’t even a ‘breakroom,’ and the table was always sticky. He rubbed at his face and sighed. He and Robin were closing and still had a few hours to go.
You don’t need this job, he thought to himself. You could just quit; let some other idiot scoop ice cream all summer.
But that felt like quitting, and Steve Harrington wasn’t a quitter. He just needed a break every now and then.
“Dingus! Your children are here.”
But there were no breaks for the wicked, it seemed. Steve sid open the divider between the front and back. He stared passed Robin at, well, not his children, but his sister and her friends. Without Dustin, of course; he was still at his nerdy summer camp. Mike Wheeler rang the bell again, staring expectantly back. His antics only amused El and himself. Robin’s annoyance at his stunt twisted out, flicking Steve on the head and urging him to ‘deal with your children already, dingus.’ Steve sighed, equally annoyed that his break had been interrupted. “Again? Really?” Steve motioned for them to come to the back. They filtered in like a herd of small creatures, jostling each other with casual touches. Troublemakers, the lot of them. Except for Will, who Steve was pretty sure had never done anything wrong in his life. Aside from going along with his friends’ plans. Case in point, sneaking into the Starcourt movie theater. “Y’know, you could just buy a ticket, right?”
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Max asked with a twinkle in her eye and mischief coiling in her hair.
El gave him a quick hug. One-handed, as her other hand was still preoccupied with holding her boyfriend’s hand. “Thanks, Steve.” Her gratitude fell from her lips with a springing love running over her chest.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve set his hands on his hips. “Just be careful, alright? If anyone finds out you’ve been sneaking back here—”
“We’re dead!” came the chorus of voices.
“We know!” Mike rolled his eyes. Steve was familiar with his frequent irritation at this point, how it would twist four times at his temple before soothing itself.
Lucas didn’t wait. “C’mon, we’re gonna miss the previews!” Steve shut the door as the kids argued their way down the back hallways of the mall. One of these days, they were going to get caught. Probably get themselves banned or something.
“You’re a pushover, Harrington. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” In his defense, Robin Buckley had never attempted to tell his sister or her friends ‘no’ before.
“You could lose your job if someone were to tell.”
“I know that too, Robin, thanks.” She wouldn’t tell anyone. Robin was too far amused at seeing him have verbal sparring matches with a group of fourteen-year-olds. And as much as she complained about him, Steve wasn’t bad at his job. He was at least competent, which was more than they could say for the other coworkers they occasionally worked with. Robin would never admit it, but he could see the relief sweeping over her uniform whenever he clocked in, swapping out whatever schmuck had been there before him.
Robin was a pretty anxious girl. He meant that in more than one way. Sure, she was pretty, the same way a giraffe made of stained glass would be pretty. But anxious, Robin had that covered. She hid it well behind her general facade of apathy. Still, whenever they had an uptick in customers, Steve had a front-row seat to the panic that tapped rhythmically on her chest. On good days, he would subtly calm her anxiety before it could overspill and start tapping into his own chest. On bad days, they both got more and more grumpy until one of them took their allotted ten-minute break.
Tonight had been slow. Chances were they would get a rush right after the movies started to wrap up, with audiences full of tired children and people craving that sugar rush. But at the moment, the parlor wasn’t totally packed. Steve and Robin had it handled. They were a well-oiled machine fueled by sarcasm and a passion for frozen treats. Everything was shaping up to be a calm night–
Right up until the power went out.
Steve clutched the scoop and the cone as everything went dark. Dark and quiet, aside from the confused murmurs of people. “That’s weird.” Understatement of the year. The mall was brand new. There was no way it was already having blackouts. Steve set the scoop down inside the case. He tried the light switch, just on the off chance it was, like, a breaker or something.
“That’s not gonna work, dingus,” Robin snarked. He watched as her confusion slipped away into a now familiar irritation. Steve hoped she wasn’t afraid of the dark. For a second, something nervous had fluttered over her.
But Robin was easily susceptible to his dumb jokes. “Oh yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow and began flicking the switch as fast as possible. It was clear that it wasn’t helping, but so long as Robin was focused on his stupidity and not the fact that they were in charge of an entire restaurant without power, he would keep it up.
The power returned moments later, flooding the parlor and the mall with light and sound and color. Cheers swept through the mall, punctuated by a general relief and happiness. Steve smacked the light switch with his palm for emphasis, preening for Robin just a little. “Let there be light,” he joked. Robin didn’t laugh. She barely smiled. But amusement popped by her jaw, and that was almost the same thing.
1971
“How are you feeling today, Seven?” Papa asked. He glanced down at a folder full of papers. Important notes, probably. Seven didn’t know what they said. He watched Papa’s emotions steadily crawl over his head. “Seven?” Papa prompted him after a moment, finally looking up from the clipboard.
“Yes, Papa.”
Papa sighed, something patting his chin. But he smiled as Seven had told a joke. “I imagine you have a lot on your mind. I certainly have. I was up all night detailing a new training plan for you.”
“New?”
“Of course. Now that we know your true abilities, we must harness them to their full capabilities. Doesn’t that sound agreeable?”
Seven blinked. It wasn’t really a question. Papa had made up his mind. “Yes, Papa.”
Papa liked it when he agreed. Seven could see it and understand it now. The blur by his chest, pinching ever so subtly.
Papa didn’t like being interrupted, especially when the door opened. Another Doctor entered, younger than Papa. Something sharp twisted on either side of his head, over and over. “Sir,” he said, voice strained. “It’s the girl again.”
Papa straightened his tie and stood. “My apologies, Seven,” he looked at the new Doctor. “You can tell Seven about his new training in my absence.” Papa handed the folder over to the Doctor, who gaped at him.
“Yes, sir,” the Doctor’s emotions started twisting faster. It looked like it hurt. He glanced inside the folder.
Before he left, Papa glanced at the two other men in the room. One was a Watcher, not a doctor like Papa, but someone who stood in the room during tests and trainings. They usually took notes and never spoke. The other man was a guard. Seven could see one of his emotions trail down his face until Papa addressed him. “Keep an eye on him,” the guard nodded, emotions snapping into place. Then Papa left, the door clicking in place behind him.
The Doctor sat down across from Seven, his most visible emotion shuddered around his hands as he clutched his papers tightly.
He wasn’t scared, not the same way the children were. But he didn’t want to be here. Seven wished he knew what the feeling was called.
“In light of your new abilities, Doctor Br—“
“Papa.”
The doctors turned around to stare at the Watcher. Seven followed his gaze. Watchers didn’t speak; they watched. This one was going off-script. “What?”
The Watcher didn’t flinch, merely stared back at the Doctor as he explained gently. “He prefers you call him Papa in front of his children.”
“Right. Of course,” the Doctor turned back to Seven. “Your ‘Papa’ has developed an entirely new course of action to better suit your abilities. It is still in the preapproval stage, but if we are going to meet certain deadlines, we will need to expedite some elements of your training.” Seven glanced between the Doctor, the Watcher, and the Guard. He was confused. But none of the men offered any clarification. Seven glanced down at his hands. “We will begin with finding the limits on your emotional manipulation.”
“Does he even know what an emotion is?” The Watcher asked.
“What? Of course, he does,” the Doctor suddenly had a feeling at his neck, barely pinching the skin, swirling in a tight circle. “Seven, what are feelings?”
Seven swallowed. “Scared,” he started. “Happy, angry.”
“There,” the Doctor said, a new feeling sliding across his chest. “See?”
“And what of the rest?”
Seven shook his head. “I do not know.” He saw more feelings than he could name. He saw them twisting and curling and moving in blurs over everyone, and he didn’t know what they all meant. Somehow it felt like he was failing before he’d even had a chance to start.
But the Watcher raised his eyebrows, no trace of any of the pinching or twisting or anything bad. No trace of much of anything, really. “You will need to learn. Someone will have to teach you.”
“You?” Seven asked.
The Watcher smiled.
May 1985
The part about having friends that stuck around longer than a week was that they didn’t just spend time with you at school or parties. There was a casual familiarity that came from consistent friendship. Steve hadn’t even known he’d been missing it until he had it.
Yeah, sure, the kids were over all the time, but they were always in a unit. And never for him. Though, ever since the fall, Dustin had been calling him up and bumming rides. But now that Steve and Jonathan were not just ‘friendly,’ but ‘friends,’ somehow they had fallen into patterns of just… existing in the same place and time. Together.
He didn’t even know when it had started. Maybe when Will and Jonathan had spent a whole day at the Harrington’s when their house was being repaired. Maybe when Steve had invited them over for New Year’s, and they played cards in the den while waiting for the ball to drop. Maybe when Jonathan had invited Steve around to help with his English assignment, only to spend the afternoon explaining in detail why he loved Walt Whitman’s poetry. Maybe it was the routine they’d fallen into where the Byers boys would spend Sunday at the Harringtons because Steve always cooked too much and liked to share.
It could be a culmination of a dozen seemingly unimportant moments. It didn’t really matter how it happened, anyway. The point was that it was commonplace for the Byers’ car to roll up, and hours would pass without any real reason to hang out.
“Your doorbell plays a song,” Jonathan said by way of greeting, adjusting the box in his hands. Contentment peaked over the top of it before it slid down his chest again. “Move, will you? This thing is heavy.”
“Yeah, It’s ‘Here Comes the Sun,’” Steve slid out of the way. “Diane had it installed. Just move my shit out of the way if you need the table.”
“She a big Beatles fan?”
“It was either that or ‘Ode to Joy.’ And Diane has hated Bach ever since she got wasted at the Symphony. Apparently, vomit is worse when you can hear the Ninth Symphony through the vents.”
“Pretty sure Beethoven wrote that one. Also, gross, dude.” Jonathan balanced the box on the corner of the table while he pushed the collection of papers to one end of the table. “What is all this stuff anyway?”
“Applications. Hey Will,” Steve held the door open for Will. The kid gave a half jog as he entered, clutching a notebook and books Steve recognized as for DND. “Gonna work on your game?”
Will brightened, a soft happiness flowing over and around his books as he held them to his chest. “Yeah, I’m gonna run the next campaign. But I don’t think it will be done before Dustin leaves for camp.”
“Bummer,” Steve locked the door behind them.
“Hey,” Jonathan commented absently. “I thought college applications were closed.”
“They probably are,” Steve shrugged. “These are job applications.”
“Yeah?” Jonathan pulled a sewing machine out of the box. “Where for?”
“You know the new mall that’s going up?” Jonathan looked up, surprise and understanding flashing in tandem on alternating sides of his head. “Just looking for a summer position.”
“Aren’t you, like, rich?” Will asked as he started to unpack his DND stuff. “Why do you need to work?”
“Will,” Jonathan admonished.
“It’s alright,” Steve shook off the embarrassment and concern that swirled over Jonathan effortlessly. “El! Come on down. Jonathan and Will are here!” He shouted up the stairs. A second later, a door slammed, indicating she was on her way. “No, I don’t need a job. But having something on my resume that isn’t working at the pool would be nice.”
“Jonathan!” Said the living bundle of clothes as it bounded down the stairs. El deposited the pile on the floor next to Jonathan. “Did I get enough?”
“What are you two doing?” Steve wasn’t about to stop them. Once El got something in her mind, it would take an act of God to stop her. And Jonathan was responsible enough not to go along with one of her plans willingly. So Steve wanted to know just how much damage control he was in for.
“El wants to put some patches on some clothes,” Jonathan explained.
Steve looked up, confused. “Are they ripped or something?” She could’ve just asked him to drive her to the store if she needed new clothes.
“No,” El held up a star-shaped patch that shimmered with just a touch of glitter. “It is fashion.”
Jonathan paused setting up the sewing machine to flash one of his rare grins, soft and lopsided, made even more lopsided by the amusement that curled on the other side of his mouth. “She’s exploring alternate fashion trends.” Steve nodded. El explored a lot of things. Hobbies, activities, and even a passing interest in some sports. (Steve was one good talking point away from convincing her to give soccer a try.) There seemed to be no end to El’s curiosity and willingness to try everything the world had to offer. So it wasn’t surprising that weird fashion would be something she would give a shot.
Jonathan’s smile dropped. “Shit,” he muttered, almost to himself.
“What is wrong?” El leaned forward in an act of solidarity or maybe to help.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jonathan started looking for something. “The bobbin is missing.”
“Bobbin?” El echoed.
“Yeah, round, bout this big,” Jonathan punched his fingers together. “I hope I didn’t leave it at home—“
“I see it,” Will gestured toward the entryway. “On the floor, by the door.”
“Where?”
“Never mind, I’ll just go get it—“
The bobbin flew onto the table.
“Or that,” Will finished and leaned back into his chair.
“Thanks, El,” Jonathan picked the bobbin up and started installing it.
Eleven shook her head. “Not me.”
There was a moment of silence. Will was the one that was bold enough to ask. “Did you do that?”
Steve glanced up from his applications. The brothers’ surprise was soft, a worn flickering blur at their temples. “Yes?” Unless Jonathan had spontaneously developed telekinesis too. Which, given that this was Hawkins, wouldn’t be the strangest thing that had ever happened.
“I didn’t know you could do that too,” Will commented. “Like El.”
“Not really,” Steve was almost certain they’d covered this. “I can only lift little things. Like the bobbin or coins or dice.”
“Dice?”
“Not like, your weird dice. Normal dice.”
“He cheats at Yahtzee,” El half accused, half warned.
“I do not,” Steve maintained his innocence. “You’re just a bad loser.”
“How would you even cheat at Yahtzee?” Will asked. Curiosity bloomed at his neck, pinching and twirling like a paintbrush on the page.
Steve sighed, then scooted his chair closer to Will and his DND supplies. “Do you have a normal dice?”
Will reached over to his pile of light blue dice and pulled out a standard dice. “It’s called a D6,” he supplied helpfully. It didn’t have any pips on it, but Steve figured he could still make it work.
“Alright, pick a number.”
“Um,” Will leaned forward on his arms, eyes bright and interest pinching in the center of his face. “Three?”
“Can do,” Steve let the dice rattle to the table, watching the faces turn over and over. He always let it fall naturally, letting the laws of physics start the process before he took control of the path. The switch was seamless at this point, and he made the dice bounce a few extra times before settling.
“Woah,” Will breathed as awe slid over his jaw. “And you can do any number?” Steve nodded. Then Will tilted his head, something clever twitching at his crown. He suppressed a smile. “But you can only do six-sided dice?”
Steve didn’t back down from challenges. “Hey, I never said I couldn’t work with your freaky dice.” Will silently passed him a new dice that looked more like a golf ball than a dice. Steve examined it, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. “Why does it have so many sides?”
“Well—“
“I don’t actually want to know.”
“It’s a twenty-sided dice. A D20.”
“Right. So twenty is as high as it goes?” Will confirmed it with a nod. Steve sighed and let the dice roll off his palm. It clattered to the table with an unfamiliar bouncing pattern, and he tried to catch it and mimic the pattern. It was clumsy. When he made it stop, it was face up on a seventeen.
“I mean, a seventeen is pretty good. On most checks, that would be a success and—“
“Hold on, I get another shot, don’t I?” Will flashed a smile punctuated with jabbing prolonged eagerness. Steve plucked the dice off the table and rolled again.
It took more than a second attempt. Steve lost count of how many times he practiced with the unnecessarily complicated dice. At one point, Jonathan passed him a tissue without being told. Steve hadn’t even noticed his nose start to bleed.
But finally, the dice landed on a twenty. Will cheered, excitement falling from him like thunder. But it wouldn’t mean anything without repetition. Like basketball. Anyone could make a basket, but you only made the team if you could do it every time.
Steve wiped at his nose and tossed the dice down with a flourish. He was more familiar with how it spun and ricocheted. When he took control, he kept the pattern going. The numbers flashed by rapidly. They were almost unreadable, but Steve locked on to the one he wanted.
“Two natural twenties,” Will grinned. “That’s, like, a DND legend.” Now that he had it figured out, Steve was confident he could get a twenty every time. Will looked at him with more thoughtfulness than any fourteen-year-old had the right to be. “You know, Dustin would think this is really cool.”
Steve grimaced. He couldn’t deny that. Dustin would get a kick out of all of his powers. And that was what he was afraid of. Steve had been a science experiment long enough; when he did finally tell Dustin and the rest of the hooligans about his past, he had to be completely confident they wouldn’t take it the wrong way.
But the more he knew Dustin, the less he worried about his reaction. Dustin was a good kid. More than his scientific mind, he was a big softy.
Will had heard Steve’s excuses a thousand times. So Steve didn’t impress him with the same old reasons again. “Look,” he sighed. “maybe this summer, alright? After he gets back from his camp or whatever. I’ll think about it.”
Will perked up. “Really?”
“Maybe,” Steve handed him back both of his dice. “If he stops being such a little asshole.” Will laughed, easy and bright.
June 28, 1985
“Are you following me?” Robin asked as she unlocked her bike from the Star Court bike rack.
Steve spun his keys around his finger. “Nope, just waiting for the tyke.”
Robin laughed, “Pushover,” She straddled her bike and saluted as she peddled away. “Catch you tomorrow, dingus.”
Tomorrow. For another one of their never-ending summer shifts at Scoops Ahoy. Steve was supposed to have it off, but their manager had messed up the schedule. Probably so he could have the holiday week off to go camping with his family.
“What took you so long?” Steve said when he finally spotted his sister and the Party. The movie had ended almost ten minutes ago, his shift fifteen. Starcourt was just about the last place Steve wanted to hang out longer than he needed to.
“Sorry,” Eleven said but didn’t explain. She kissed Mike on the cheek, subjecting Steve to a close-up of their kindling romance. The embarrassment at public displays of affection had waned a few months ago. Now the two were bridled with confidence as they flaunted their happy relationship. Steve gestured for her to hurry up. “Bye, Mike. Bye, guys.”
El had bought herself a shiny new bike at the beginning of the summer, which was convenient most of the time, except when Steve had to load it into the trunk of the BMW. But bikes were freedom, and El needed all the freedom she could get.
“Thanks for the ride,” El said with a smile and fondness. “I feel bad for them; it is a long way to bike.”
Steve laughed. “Well, you all can chip in for a van that fits all your bikes, then they can start asking for rides. How was the movie?”
El hummed thoughtfully. “Scary. But fake scary. Not real.”
“Right,” Steve didn’t love movies, and he really didn’t understand why the Party would willingly go to a horror film after all they’d been through.
“The lights went off.”
“Yeah, what was that about?”
Eleven momentarily felt unsure, the emotion darting in front of her like a ball tossed between her hands. Steve kept driving and let her work it out for herself. Finally, she gave in. “Will did not like it.”
“The movie?”
“The lights.”
“Oh,” Steve frowned. “You don’t think it’s Upside Down shit again, do you?” He still kept the bat inlaid with nails in his trunk. Dragged that thing to work, just in case.
“No,” El shook her head. “I closed the gate.”
“Right, but–”
“No. I think… I think it is bad memories,” Steve hummed. It made sense. The lights went out, and the first thing Will would imagine was being back in the Upside Down. “I want Will to be… better?” Eleven ventured.
“Me too,” Steve said honestly. Will had his days, moments where he got dark. He was improving, but last fall’s brush with the Mind Flayer certainly hadn’t done him any favors. While Mike, Lucas, and Max seemed to be sprouting up in a flurry of neon and teenage hormones, Will somehow seemed stuck. Too small, too quiet. He hadn’t spotted any colorful emotions on him, no signs the kid was traumatized beyond repair. But sometimes Steve thought that Will was better at hiding than he let on.
El was somewhere in the middle of all the kids. Growing every day, more and more confident and self-assured. But without any real experience in the world, sometimes she still looked as wide-eyed and scared as the day she’d broken out of the lab and into the house.
“Did you guys get everything for the surprise tomorrow?”
“Yes!” El’s emotions shifted towards excitement, bounding off of her in a flurry of motion. “Will designed a banner, and Claudia let us in Dustin’s room to set up the prank. It is going to be amazing!” She stretched the last word out for more syllables than it typically had, her excitement bouncing with every prolonged phrase.
“He’s gonna love it,” Steve promised as they arrived home. The lights were on in almost every room; Jack and Diane were headless of electricity bills. El practically skipped up to the front door, using her powers to unlock it and let themselves in. “We’re back!” Steve called.
“Ahoy!” Diane greeted them, glass raised and mirth rising from her chest. She was summer golden, hair still pinned up. She was always amused at the sailor-themed ice cream shop. She never missed an opportunity to force nautical jargon into her vernacular whenever she remembered Steve’s most recent employment.
“Hey, kids,” Jack tossed over his shoulder from the kitchen. Steve frowned in confusion.
“Are you cooking?”
“Trying to,” Jack admitted. He had a red and white checkered recipe book open, salmon marinading in a dark sauce and an air of overwhelmed floating above his head. “Wanted one good meal before I head back to the office for a few days.” Jack had been bouncing back and forth between Hawkins and the Harrington's metropolitan apartment for weeks now.
Steve could count on one hand the number of times he’d eaten a ‘good’ meal prepared by Jack Harrington. “Were you going to grill those?”
His father snapped his fingers. “Great idea! If I knew how to work our grill.”
Steve sighed. “Let me change out of my uniform, then I’ll do it. Can you manage a salad or something?”
Eleven perked up. “I can help! Can I chop vegetables?”
Jack grinned. “Of course, you can, kiddo.”
When Steve came back, they had managed to scrape together a bowl of vegetables and lettuce. He was confident that Jack hadn’t messed up the marinade. It was the cooking process that worried him. Nothing was worse than dry salmon. Luckily it wouldn’t take too long on the grill. It was a perfect summer evening, none of the rain they had been promised later in the week. Steve considered hosting a barbeque for the Party. The summer had gotten off to a weird start, with Dustin at camp and the teens at their jobs. He felt like he only saw the kids when they came to bum ice cream or rides. Or, more recently, sneak into the back of the mall. Hell, he saw Lucas’ sister more than Lucas. A barbeque or something would be nice. Low key, get everything to reset to where it should be.
The salmon came out damn near perfect. Jack had found a good marinade, and Steve told him as much. His father was never one to turn away an opportunity to feel pride.
“Di, are you headed out of here too?” Steve asked.
His mother waved her hand. “And miss out on this fabulous weather? For the pollution of the city?” She smiled affably, cheeks flushed red. “Besides, I’m working on my tan.” Between all of their tropical vacations, Steve was sure Diane hadn’t been her natural shade in a decade.
“Will you be back for the carnival?” El asked.
“I might be able to swing it,” Jack said. “Kline’s gonna pull out all the stops this year, or so I hear.” His father had never been to a Hawkins Fourth of July carnival. Steve couldn’t imagine him eating a corn dog or going on one of the rides. He could picture both his parents on a private yacht, watching fireworks on the water. That had been a good Fourth of July. This year, the whole Party was planning on spending half the day at the carnival, then coming back to the Harrington's to set off their own fireworks. Steve had spent an obscene amount of money to obtain Lucas Sinclair's very specific list of fireworks.
Diane launched into a one-woman interrogation about El’s plans for the Fourth. She cooed incessantly every time El mentioned her boyfriend. It was a strange illusion of a family dinner.
They didn’t lose power again. The strange blip earlier in the night seemed like just a momentarily dark spot on a beautiful summer.