Chapter Text
It was freezing fucking cold outside, and Steve really has no clue as to how he ended up outside of the Chief of Police's cabin in the middle of the woods. And yet, here he is, shivering in a mud-soaked pair of denim jeans and shoes that were so caked in dirt that he wasn't quite sure he would find them if he had attempted scraped it all off.
The thing is, Steve wasn't particularly close to Hopper. Unlike the other kids- the younger kids, the party- Steve barely knew the man. He wasn't even sure if Hopper liked him, like he liked the others. Nancy, for example, was so easy to like. She didn't complain. She was sharp, she was brave, loyal, trustworthy. Steve, on the other hand, had been a fucking terror in his early high school days. There was a certain party he hosted back in his sophomore year that ended with Hopper showing up following a neighbor's noise complaint, and Steve wouldn't blame him if he had kept a grudge since then and didn't want him around his daughter.
As much as his mind begged him to turn around and stumble his way back to his house, Steve quickly remembered that he wasn't exactly welcome there. The whole reason he was out in these frigid conditions was due to the fact that his parents had come home, unsurprisingly disappointed in him, and kicked him out. He wasn't mad about it; it was the best-case-scenario, anyhow. Staying here was his best choice.
Looking around the area, Steve noted that Hopper's truck wasn't anywhere in sight. He thanked the universe that there was some sort of luck on his side following the aftermath of all of this. A stinging drop of hope poked at his tingling feet, so Steve clambered his way to the front door, practically tripping up the few stairs that were there. He rubbed at the back of his arms, desperately trying to generate as much warmth to his body as he could before raising one of his hands. His knuckles wrapped against the wooden door, and he winced in pain from the feeling of his raw, frozen skin scratching against the rough surface.
He heard some shuffling from the inside, the gentle lull of soft voices on the television suddenly comes to a complete stop. There are a few footsteps, but then there's complete silence. Steve silently hopes that someone will come to the door, but when no one does, he realizes that he has to take things into his own hands.
The deep breath he attempts to take ends up as more of a shaky inhale than anything else. "El?" he calls, placing his hand flat on the door. "Are you in there?" He waits patiently for an answer, but there's nothing in return. He swallows. "I, uh- It's Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm- I'm friends with your friends. Like- like Dustin? I think- I think we've actually met before?" Deep down, Steve hopes that his rambles are making an impact on her, but there's nothing more than a few more footsteps to confirm that.
He stops talking, waiting for the sudden movement to subside before he continues. "I- I was looking for Hopper, y'know, but it doesn't seem that he's... here." The wind brushes gently through the forest as he leans forward, leaning his forehead against the wooden slab in front of him. "Please, El. I'm just- it's really cold out here, and if you- if you could just give me a few minutes, then I'll be out of your hair in no time," he promises.
There's a pause, then the floorboards inside make a quiet creak, though the high-pitched noise isn't nearly as loud as the one the door makes when it pulls open a few inches. Steve barely has the mind to pull himself up, to lift the small amount of weight he was setting against the door so that he didn't fall over immediately. He's still trying to shift backwards when he sees one of El's eyes peeking through the crack. She looks him up and down before staring him straight in his eyes.
"You're Steve," she remarks, matter-of-factly. He nods in response. She looks down once again, taking in the sight of his dirty clothing. El looks at his face again. "You're... cold?"
The simple question makes him snort, a bitter chuckle leaving his mouth. Steve squeezes the back of his arms with his hands. "Yeah," he breathes. "It's- it's really cold out here."
El pauses, before nodding. She pulls the door back enough to reveal herself- dressed in what looks like comfortable pajamas and slippers that make him jealous- and the inside of the cabin. Just the look of it feels even warmer than before. The younger girl steps back a few feet and points to the floor beside her. "Come in," she demands.
Steve nods, whispering a 'thank you' underneath his breath. He slips his shoes off of his feet as soon as he can, not wanting to track mud into the house. El closes the door behind him and watches as he sets the sneakers next to the door. He turns around and looks down at her. "Do you have, uh-"
She looks at him with wide eyes. "We have tea," El says when Steve doesn't complete his sentence. "I can make it hot."
He smiles, nodding. "That would be nice," he says, hoping that the kindness can help her warm up to him. It works- he can tell by the way her lips collide and upturn just a little bit. "Do you need help?"
El looks away and thinks for a moment; she shakes her head. "No," she states strongly. "You need warm." She takes a hold of his wrist and guides him to another door, pushing it open and pointing to the shower inside. "Warm water?" El asks, trying to find a quick solution to his current predicament.
As much as his body is begging for him to jump in, to douse himself in a steaming hot shower underneath the shower head, he finds it in himself to shake his head. "I don't think that's good after you get really cold," he explains. El raises an eyebrow at him for help understanding. "It can hurt." She seems a little shocked but shuts the door and points to the couch in the living room. She lets go and walks to the kitchen, so Steve turns around and sits himself down on the sofa.
Steve tries hard not to let his jeans touch the fabric of the couch- at least, not until all the mud dries and will absolutely not make a mess in a house that isn't his. Luckily for him, there's a blanket folded on top of the back cushion, so Steve picks it up, shaking it out and wrapping it around his shoulders. He pulled it tight, twisting his hands inside of the edge and pulling it tightly to his skin.
He doesn't know how long he sat there like that, but it was long enough for his leg to start bouncing uncontrollably while he rocked back and forth in his seat. El looks even more concerned when she returns, hot cup of tea in her hand, he's jealous of the steam that floats off of the top and disappears into the air. He unwraps his hands and holds them out, but her hands brush against his fingers as she attempts to pass the cup. She stops her motions- practically freezing in place- when she does.
"El?" he asks, worried.
She takes the mug back, putting it down on the coffee table as she grabs his hands in hers. "You're very cold," she says. Steve wants to cry because 'duh, that's what I've been trying to tell you this entire time.' El bites her lips as she looks at him. "You need a bed."
Steve blinks for a moment. "No," he insists. "I- I don't want to be a problem. I said I'd get out of your hair quickly, yeah?"
One of her hands pulls away briefly to touch the top of her head. "Out of my hair?" she asks.
Internally, Steve face palms. Maybe he should be more straightforward with a girl who hasn't had much social interaction for a majority of her life and doesn't quite know and hidden meanings of figures of speech. "It's, like-" he swallows, waving his free hand around. "It means to be out of your way."
"Oh," she says. She tugs on his hand until he stands up. "You're not in my way," El urges. She then turns around, making her way to her bedroom with Steve in tow. "Sleep here for the night."
Steve looks around, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "Where are you going to sleep?"
She points back out to the living room. "Couch," she says as though it's obvious. "Dad lets me sometimes. And I want to stay awake until he is home."
He looks at her in confusion; he's barely talked to this girl, so why is she so willing to rearrange her entire night just for him to have a mattress to sleep on. "I'm really not sure I'm supposed to stay over tonight," he argues gently. "I- I don't think Hopper likes me much."
"You are friends with my friends," she reiterates. Steve hums in confusion. "Then you are my friend. He likes my friends."
God, someone needs to teach this girl about who to trust.
"He'll be mad to see me here," he tries even further. "If he sees me in your bed, I don't think he'd be very happy," Steve explains.
El pauses, then brings him towards the bed and points. He sits down. "If I am out there, he won't check in here," El contends. Her arms cross over her chest. "You will stay here and get warm."
Steve doesn't argue anymore; instead, he listens to her when she tells him to take the blanket off of his shoulders so she can use it on the couch, but that he can have the rest for his slumber. She sneaks into Hopper's room and grabs him a pair of pants that isn't covered in mud, and though he'll wear them so that her covers aren't dirtied, it does feel odd to get handed a pair of pajamas that belong to the Chief of Police. El also returns with his mug of tea and places it on the floor. His shoes are soon moved from the front door to the bedroom, and everything seems to be in place. She goes to leave, but Steve has one more thing to ensure of.
"Hey, El?" he calls, though it's rather quiet. She turns around and tilts her head in confusion. Steve wants to shrink back; instead, he swallows and forces himself to continue. His hand tightens on the material of the pants. "Do you- do you think you can keep this all a secret? Not just me, uh, sleeping here, but- but me just... showing up in the first place?"
She stares at him, practically bewildered. El nods, agreeing to the older teen's terms of being there. "Why did you come?" she asks, pointing to the floor beneath her. "Here?"
Steve finds it almost funny that she specified this house- Hopper's cabin. "It's no big deal," he tries, hoping that she'll back off of with the vague answer.
El doesn't. "You lie," she guesses. Steve's basically shocked at the way she knew instantly. "Mike said that friends don't lie."
He doesn't answer, simply looking down at his lap. El takes the hint and slinks out of the room, leaving the door open a crack, and Steve sinks his head into his hands, wondering what the hell he had just done and if he would be woken up in a few hours by a screaming man.
When Hopper leaves in the morning, the first thing El does as she watches the door shut behind him is race to her bedroom, the only goal on her mind being to check on Steve and sneak him out of the house. She's not quite sure why it needed to be a secret- she's had sleepovers before- but she listens nonetheless, mostly because he looks terrified while asking her to keep her mouth shut about it.
Instead of a warm bed, though, she finds nothing but an unlocked window and a random page from her notebook with scribbles on top. The bed is made, blankets pulled neatly across the top, and the mug sits empty on the floor. Her dad's pants are left folded, too, and she walks over and picks up the letter. However, she can only make out about half of the words written down, so she might have to ask him for help next time they meet. As far as El knows, Steve thanked her for letting her stay and said sorry. She's confused as to why.
They see each other time to time- especially as El spends more time with the Party and not an empty house- but it takes months until Steve is at the door again. He looks a bit rougher than the last time- his eyes are red and puffy, and his sniffles tell her that he might've been crying. The way he aggressively rubs the hells of his palms over his cheeks makes her not want to mention it. So, she doesn't.
He introduces himself through the front door again, and this time, she's much less hesitant to answer. "Steve," she says as she opens the door. El hopes her voice sounds much less emotionless and more worried for him.
"Hi," Steve greets her sheepishly, a gentle wave directed towards her.
"Are you... cold?" she questions. He doesn't look all that cold- he's bundled up in a coat this time, and his jeans aren't coated in a thick layer of mud anymore.
Steve shakes his head. "No," he assures with a smile. "I'm in a bit of a... situation." El tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. "I stayed over last time, remember?" Slowly, she nods. "I- I think I need to stay over again. If- If I can."
El steps back and lets him inside- just like last time- and she hears the same 'thanks' under his breath. She locks the door as Hopper always says to and turns around. "It's very late at night," she tells him.
He nods. "I know. I'm sorry for showing up so late." El wants to tell him that he doesn't really need to apologize, that she was up waiting for Hopper anyway, but he continues before he can say so. "Just- If Hop 's not here, I was- I was wondering if I could stay again. I don't need your bed- I could sleep in the closet if you want-"
"People aren't meant to sleep in closets," she interrupts, and a smile forms on Steve's face, breaking up his rambling.
Steve shrugs. "I can sleep on the floor."
"Why?" El asks, looking up at him. "Do you want to?"
He looks down nervously. El doesn't think he acts this shy around other people. "I really need a place to stay."
Somehow, the sheer urgency and desperation in his voice breaks through her confusion and she nods. "Ok," she gives in. He follows her to her room as she puts a blanket on the floor for him. El then tosses one of her pillows on top of it and stares down at the mess proudly. "Is... that ok?"
"It's more than perfect," he says. El sort of wants to tell him, once again, that friends don't lie to each other, but he probably thinks that it's better than sleeping in the woods, which she'd agree on. She doesn't like staying in the woods for a long time. Steve manages to pull her out of her thoughts with the clearing of his throat. "Do you think..." he pauses. "Could I come back and stay tomorrow night?"
El tilts her head. "Dad doesn't work tomorrow night."
His eyes widen a little bit. "Hopper will be here?"
"Yes," she nods, and he watches as his face falls. He seems disappointed; El recalls why he was here. "Do you need to sleep here tomorrow?"
Steve seems to want to leave the room. She watches as he sits down on the floor at the end of her bed. She's patient with him, sitting down in front of him, crossing her legs. "I can't go home tomorrow," he whisers plainly. El doesn't dig into it.
"Dad checks on me if I'm asleep when he gets home. He won't if I am awake." Steve's head doesn't raise up. "If you hide behind this," she points to the dresser, "you can sleep on the floor after he goes away."
"I don't want you to get in trouble," Steve says plainly.
"You won't."
"How do I get in here, then?" Steve asks, and El will admit that it was a pretty important question. "I can't walk through the front door if Hop's sitting there.'
El looks at the door, biting her lip as she thinks of a way to let him in. "You can use the window again," she says. Steve raises an eyebrow and El continues. "I will leave it open. And- and we have a special knock. Dad and I." She pushes the blanket away and lets her fist collide with the floor in the pattern or two knocks, a pause, one knock, a pause, and three knocks.
Steve looks confused.
"That's how I know that it's Dad at the door. It's our knock." El guides Steve's hand to the door and tells him to copy it. He's hesitant, but he does it perfectly. She grins. "You can do that. On the window. And- and I'll let you in. Because I'll know that it's you."
The older teen pauses, looking El over, before nodding. "Thank you."
She wants to get up, but then she remembers the letter. El puts her finger up, telling him to pause, and she brings over the letter. "I couldn't read the entire thing."
"What?" Steve asks. He looks worried. El furrows her eyebrows, embarrassed, which makes Steve pull back on his statement. "Not- not that it's a bad thing!" he clarifies, shaking his hands in between them. "I just- you don't know how to read?"
"Papa didn't teach us much," she says.
Steve goes silent for a moment. Sometimes, it's so easy to forget that these kids had been through hell; El specifically. Steve would do anything if it meant they could have a normal childhood. "How about this," he says, shifting in his seat. "If Hopper ever needs someone to watch you, you let me know, and I'll come over and teach you some stuff. Like reading."
El's eyes light up as though she had just won the lottery and it makes Steve's stomach shift. "Really?" she questions, excitedly grabbing the blanket beneath them.
"Really."
El hugs Steve, wrapping her arms around him, and she insists that she should be the first one to finish reading the letter. It makes Steve's heart ache. He shows up again the next night while El is impatiently lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling above as she wonders when exactly Steve will show up. It's when her eyes are shut, El's breath finally evening out when he hears a high-pitched tapping in the 2-1-3 pattern that Hopper taught her. It makes her do that fake-falling thing, but she quickly opens her eyes as moves to the window.
She opens it up just a crack, allowing Steve's hands to slide it up as needed. El takes a few steps backward, her face squishing up at the quiet creaking the boards make. Steve slinks his legs in first, bending himself through the opening and closing the window behind him. He did it so fast that El thinks he's done this too many times before.
"Hey," he says, waving his hand. El points to the flashlight in his hand, hoping that he takes the hint with her squinted eyes. He looks down and gasps, muttering an apology and flipping the switch on the side.
The light goes out and the room is significantly darker, but El can still tell that he's quite out of breath. "You ran here?" she asks Steve.
He shrugs, brushing off her question as she looks around the room. Steve's eyes catch on the door that's not closed all the way. He clears his throat. "Can you, uh- can you close the door?"
"Why?" El questions, looking over her shoulder at the door, then back at the older teen. He looks confused; it makes El more confused. "Dad says that when the door is open three inches, it means that I'm ok with him coming in. Or- or if I'm hanging out with boys."
Steve seems like he wants to laugh, so his hand flies up to press against his mouth and stop it. "El," he says cautiously. "That rule is for boys you like."
El furrows her brows. "I do like you."
"No," he says, shaking his head. El doesn't quite understand, and it's making her frustrated. "It's for boys you like more than me. For boys you want to kiss." Her mouth opens up into an o-shape and Steve smiles. "So, it's not really about us, right?"
"Right," she nods.
"And we don't want Hopper to know that I'm here, right?"
El hums again in confirmation. "Right," she repeats. She turns around, closing the door as softly as she can and turns back to Steve. "Do you want your bed again?" When Steve nods, she pulls the blanket and pillow from where she shoved them underneath the bed, and the fond smile and thumbs up he gives her when she's finished tells her that she did a good job. He's sure to ruffle the bit of hair growth she's got before he lies down.
Within just a few hours, Steve stirs from groaning a just some feet away from him. He rubs his eyes, onto to find El thrashing around in her blankets, whimpering something under her breath. Steve practically shoots off of his blanket, getting to El's side as quickly as he can. He manages to wake her up; the rest of the night is filled with lost of tears and hugs, and El doesn't fall asleep again until Steve's arms are wrapped protectively around her.
The time between the first, second, and third times Steve showed up was always a few months. El never thought much about the occasions. Yet, him showing up becomes more often than El thinks it should be. Soon, he's showing up to her window frequently unannounced, two or three times a week, every few weeks. It's contingent, too. El could go time and time again without seeing Steve outside of her room, but the second she hears his incessant tapping on the glass pane, she's out of her bed and sliding a crack in the window. As always, he's gone by morning, and El never forgets to flick the lock on the window closed. For a mere moment, El thinks that it's getting better, because Steve hasn't shown up in a little while, and he's driving the Party to and from their favorite places, and he seems happy.
And then, it's 1:43 in the morning, and Steve is clicking his fingernails on the transparent surface, and El grumbles as she slides out of bed. "Steve?" she says underneath her breath, though he can't hear her since the window is still closed, she opens it and turns the close the door while he climbs in. Duly, she flips the light switch, since she didn't see a flashlight on him this time, and El wants to see him when they're talking.
El turns around, and she is suddenly face to face with Steve's bruised and bleeding face.
"Steve," she repeats, reaching out to grab his arm. He's shaking very lightly, but he seems to brush it off by squeezing his fists tight. It doesn't work. She looks at the blood congealed up underneath his nose, the bruise around his eye and covering most of her nose. "You're hurt," she says. He snorts and nods. "Did you lose a fight?" El asks.
He shakes his head. "Way to underestimate me, El," he jokes, but she frowns at the lack of joking tone in his voice. He just sounds... sad.
"Is it... the reason you keep coming here?"
Steve swallows and pauses. "I don't want to talk to about it," he says. Seconds pass and nothing happens; she drags him to her bed and gently pushes his shoulders, trying to get him to sit down. He grunts lightly in pain, and El whispers a 'sorry' underneath her breath.
"I will get stuff," she says. "For your face."
El is out the door before Steve can even protest it, and he sighs, closing his eyes. As much as he doesn't want to inconvenience her even more- especially after waking her up at nearly two in the morning- he can't deny that he needs to clean up his face. El helps, wiping the blood from his nose and a cut, and using a frozen pack of peas to press to his face. She leaves the first-aid kit on her dresser and sits down next to Steve.
They're both quiet for a moment before she looks up at his face. Steve is staring straight at the wall. "Was it bad people that did this?" she asks him, curiously looking at the spread of bruises on his skin. He doesn't say anything too loud, but murmurs something about how he 'won't tell her who it is.' Instead, El settles for a term that she knows will work. "Mouth-breathers?"
Steve looks at her, an eyebrow raised. ""Mouth-breathers?"" he inquiries.
El nods. "Bad people. Mouth-breathers."
Looking down at her, that same fond grin forms onto his face and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, kiddo," Steve says, leaning into her. "Mouth-breathers."
It becomes their thing, their thing that happens more often than El wishes. Steve shows up, bloody or beaten- more times than not these days- and he lets El takes care of him. She's started keeping more frozen vegetables in the freezer, which Hopper notices, but doesn't mention. Steve replenishes any supplies he uses when he comes back to babysit her in daylight.
Eventually, El asks why they need to keep lying to everyone- Steve tells the Party that his bruises are from fights, and they never mention anything to Hopper, despite knowing that he is a fan of Steve. He says it's because if people find out the reason he shows up to their cabin, then things will happen, and Steve doesn't want to deal with that. She complies with his wishes.
Something that neither of them will ever feel bad about, though, is how close they've gotten since this all started. Initially, when Steve first arrived, El was the kid that he had talked to the least. Now, she goes to him first when she has nightmares, spills secrets to him, and even gets to his soft spot faster than some of the other kids. Steve, as promised, helps her with reading, despite not being the best student himself.
El finally understands what the Party means when they say that Steve's less of a part-time babysitter and more of a full-time big brother. And she's perfectly fine with sneaking him in and out of the house if it means that her big brother is safe at night.