Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Apartment 3E has belonged to Steve for three years and two months now. It's cosy. It's all he could afford at the time and since he has made it home in every way possible. It's far enough from the train tracks that it's not tricky for a non-insomniac to find a good night's sleep. His neighbours are older than him by a couple of years but great company. His best friends, probably. Rich and Joan. Friends since they were twelve, boning since they were seventeen. The courtyard is big enough for a communal paddling pool in the summer and a snowball fight big enough to be a war in the winter. It's close enough to walk to schools and stores and the station, and if he still had his car there'd be enough room to park it our front, too. But he had to sell that years ago. 

The complex is, more or less, entirely old people or fresh out of college twenty-somethings. There are kids who like to mess around mostly harmlessly, playing tag or hide-and-seek through the hallways. Alleycats who wander inside only to never leave, and domesticated cats escaping into the outside world at every opportunity. 

So, when Steve's doorbell goes at midway through the afternoon, just before he's about to get dinner on before he has to head to work, there's not a lot of options for who it could be. He knows everyone. Everyone knows everyone. The complex know when someone is coming over, and if it were Rich or Joan they'd have let themselves in, not rung the bell. 

Maybe it's the landlord, Steve thinks, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder and kicking things out of his way. His house is his but it is far from tidy. He is waiting for a parcel, so maybe it’s the mail. God, it better not be the Mormons though. Or Jehovah's Witness, again. Perhaps Mrs Minks from 2F  has lost her cat, again. In case of the latter, Steve flashes his cat on the couch a warning look, to which his orange furball blinks unbothered.

He throws the door open to find red hair and bright blue eyes staring up at him. 

"Max." 

"Steve." 

"You're-"

He swallows down everything, including the bile creeping up his throat. 

Maxine Mayfield stares at Steve with the same passive ferocity she had done four years ago. Four years ago, when Steve received a life-altering phone call that had him packing his bags in the middle of the night and booking a Greyhound and leaving Hawkins and everything within the city limits in the dust. 

And here she is now. 

After nothing. After zero contact with that God-forsaken place, the people inside albeit, she is standing in the doorway of his house with her arms hooked inside two crutches. Her hair is a little lighter, just at the front, like she got her hands on box dye or an at home bleach kit and was left unsupervised. It looked nice. The length was shorter, just on her shoulders in smooth, Californian waves. 

Her eyes shot across him. First his head - his hair longer, only by a little, but far flatter than she'd have ever seen it, Upside-Down treatment be damned. Then his eyes behind square-framed glasses. Across the rest of his face and probably spotting all the places he's aged and all the places he hasn't. Quickly, the blue orbs spun across his neck and onto the collar of his cable knit sweater, something so Steve Harrington in a way maybe only Nancy Wheeler would understand. Then the towel over his shoulders. His hands on his hips, like always. The stains across his jeans - his at home work jeans, the ones he wears when he cooks or needs to fix the toilet, again, or has a new bed frame or chest of drawers to assemble or corners to baby proof or baby gate to figure out how to not lock himself out as well. 

"Are you gonna let me in or yo just gonna make a cripple stand out in the cold?" Max raises her brows expectantly, unchanged. Wordlessly, Steve opens the door for her. Doesn't mention how the start of March is barely cold but wants to. Immediately, once she's passed the fresh Harrington threshold, her eyes go to the piles upon piles of toys on the floor. 

"You- How did- What- You're- Why-" It all comes out as a jumbled mess but it summarises Steve's feelings well. 

"You're easy to track down," she says instead of an explanation. 

"What?" 

"You deaf now as well as blind?" She vaguely points to his glasses, and it comes out mean but there's a way with Max's meanness that makes her insults seem like jokes. "I said-" Her voice raises, just slightly. Barely, even. But Steve rushes forward and clamps a much unwanted hand across Max's face before she could speak again lest she fall into childhood teasing tactics and start to yell. 

"Please be quiet," he pleads. "I just got her down." 

This is where Max does show evidence of her changing. Not just in the fact that she looks older and is actually walking, more or less, as opposed to the fourteen year old apparent paraplegic Steve had left behind. Max shakes her head like she hadn't heart him correctly, purses her lips and looks at him again. Then around the room at the toys and the cat still sat on the sofa, watching the scene unfold like a telenovela, and finally back to Steve with her mouth open and brows pinched. Her nose crunches at the tip, always has, where Steve's scrunches across the bridge, when she closes her mouth and squints. Speechless, he realises she is. She's put the pieces together and she's speechless. 

"Is this why you left?" 

He nods. 

"Okay." She nods now. Taking in the room again. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, we're talking." 

"Max you can't just-" She sat herself down on the couch next to Chewey, who purrs at the immediate attention she provides him with. "I have to leave for work in two hours."

"Okay, that's fine." 

"That's not-" He inhales sharply, through his nose as he pinches the bridge. "Max, what are you doing here?" 

"I'm graduating this year," she says, simply, like it's obvious. "I'm actually gonna walk across the stage and get the damn diploma and I want all my family there to see me do it. Everyone else already agreed at Christmas and I've been tracking you down ever since." 

By that logic, it took her three months to locate him and organise her journey from Hawkins. By the laws of the Maxine Doctrine (but you have to pronounce it doc-treen, to rhyme), Max will have also done all the work by herself alongside her schoolwork and no doubt a job on the side because she never liked having free time where she could have been doing something useful. As a fan of schemes, she'll have probably kept it a secret, too. Probably snuck out the house and caught a train up here just to ask Steve to come to her graduation. 

"Max-"

"So, how long've you been a dad?" 

He sighs, deep, contained. Keeps his cool, a master at patience where he may have lost it years ago. "Do you want the full story?" 

Max nodded, eager. 

"Great. We're moving this conversation to the kitchen, then, so I can make dinner while we chat."

The story starts as one would expect. A boy and a girl. In this case, Steve and Maria Morris. They'd gone to school together but then she moved away for college. Came back to Hawkins for spring break a week or so early because of term times and other confusing med school stuff Steve couldn't quite understand. Basically, they saw each other at the Family Video, Steve remembered how beautiful she was with her golden skin and year-round freckles, long brown hair she now wears in a low bun in place of the cheerleader pigtails she used to adorn. And so they went on a date. Did what couples do. Did that a couple more times before the world tried to end again and Steve had to save it again. As you do. 

The world went back to normal, more or less. Maria went back to Harvard. Steve spent two months with his friends all in one location. 

Then he got the phone call. 

He was warm with early summer heat and a teenage crush, cola on his lips and smoke on his tongue. Watching the sunset after an unforgettable day, he'd soon learn, when the phone rang. He answered as always. Harrington residence, this is Steve speaking. Expected to say No this is his son a moment later. Then Maria's voice came through the phone. 

She was crying. Sobbing. Damn near furious from the sounds of it. 

"I'm fucking pregnant!" She screamed at him.

"You are?" He said, confused. "Congrats?"

"You fucking got me pregnant, Steve!"

Always had to dumb things down for him. And yet... "I did? But I-"

"It doesn't matter. You've ruined everything." 

And, here's the thing, for the next however many minutes Steve was there listening to Maria berate him for ruining her life, he couldn't help but smile. His kid? Oh, didn't that sound good. 

"What are you gonna do?" He asked. He'd do whatever she wanted, but, even if it was presumptuous, he figured she hadn't called him so emotionally if she was content with a decision she'd already made. 

"I don't know!" She cried to him. "I don't want this fucking kid, Steve. I want to he a neurosurgeon. Do you know how hard that's going to be when I have a baby to look after?" She groaned loudly into the phone. She sounded like she was pacing but by this point Steve had sat down underneath the phone, resting his head on the wall in a weird attempt to halt his planning of his new life. "I can't get rid of it. My- It's wrong. My family don't believe in that. But I can't raise a fucking baby-"

"What if I did?" To Steve, it made complete sense. "I mean, whatever you want, obviously. But what if I raised the baby? You wouldn't have to be a part of more of its life than you'd need to be. I could take it off you as soon as it's out and-"

Maria sniffled. "You'd do that? Really?"

He didn't verbalise how much he wanted to do it, because he guessed she wouldn't get it. But he said yes. 

Negotiations came easy, after that. Steve was loaded. He could empty his account and access his trust fund as soon as he wanted, so he would pay for everything. He'd move to Cambridge, as soon as he could. Get a job and start saving money. Do anything she wanted. 

Everything was agreed on in an hour, and by the end of the next Steve was sat in the Hawkins Bus Station for the next Greyhound to Massachusetts. 

"Steve..." Max says from a kitchen stool beside the highchair. She's turning a spoon in her coffee mug, half drank and definitely cold now, as he pulls out his dinner from the oven. She's looking at him all sad. "You know you could've told any of us, right?" 

His shoulders shoot to his ears. "Yeah but- You'd have tried to talk me out of it." 

He didn't tell anyone for a number of reasons. They wouldn't understand, being the most prominent. They wouldn't understand any of it. Firstly, Steve moving states for a girl he barely knew was, admittedly, a little stupid. But they'd try to talk him out of all of it. Maybe they'd have been right. He was nineteen and in no place to raise a child, plus he was famously stupid and clumsy. They wouldn't have been able to comprehend that Steve wanted to do it. Nancy would have told him he was throwing his life away. Robin would have told him how awful babies are. Joyce and Hopper would've warned him of the responsibilities, as if he hadn't been in charge of keeping wild children alive through the fucking apocalypse, or whatever. Speaking of, the kids wouldn't have helped, either; probably would've just reminded him of his IQ and that he didn't get into college for a reason. And Eddie probably could've just looked at him and got him to stay, but that was a conversation for another time. 

His parents wouldn't have understood at all, but there was little about Steve that they did get anymore. He left for them, too. Knew an accidental teen pregnancy would not look good on his father's campaign whether he was set to lose or not. Figured his team would be able to handle a vanishing better than apparently unprotected premarital sex. His friends wouldn't get that, either. That he left for the benefit of his dad. That he was trying to help the people who all but abandoned him as soon as his voice dropped. One of them, maybe Jonathan or Dustin, would've told him that he didn't have the best background for parenting so why would he be any better than them? As if just because Steve was neglected meant he'd neglect his own kid.

And maybe that was all unfair but deep down Steve had, and will always have, that voice telling him they don't love him. If he could leave before he gave them a reason to turn him away, why wouldn't he? 

He was being selfish. But maybe he deserved to be for once. 

"I wouldn't have," Max boldly says as Steve serves them both a plate of lasagne. "I mean, I think if you'd have explained it to me I'd have told you to go for it." Max knew the weight of being the unwanted child, like Steve, so perhaps she's telling the truth. Perhaps she would've heard him out and threatened him on behalf of his unborn child's life not to do it to try fatherhood out or because he thought it'd be fun or make him more attractive. But it didn't matter now. 

"Well, for what it's worth, thank you. And I'm sorry." He isn't. Not really. Not when the alternative is not having his kid. 

Max hums around a mouthful of food. "This is really good." Then goes back to him. "So, what, you were a slave for Maria for seven months?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. But she actually did me some good, too," he says with a fond chuckle. 

He and Maria never really became good friends as much as they became someone for the other to lean on. Friends, but conditional. With an expiration date set for the middle of December. Except, on the afternoon of November 27th 1986, Maria showed up to Steve's apartment, waking him from a daytime sleep for his evening shift, claiming to have gone into labour during her exam at least two hours ago now. And in the early hours of November 28th, Stella Harrington was born.

"Oh, yeah?"

He hums. "Yeah, like, she made me get checked out for a bunch of stuff in case the baby would inherit anything. Then when I said I wasn't sleeping well she got me tested for insomnia but I walked away with a whole book of diagnoses." Maria always said, You need to be in shape for your baby. Always referred to the baby as Steve's, never hers. 

"Ooh!" Max squeaked. "What've you got?" She asked like they were swapping trading cards. 

"Uh, insomnia, for starters. Then I got my eye test and needed glasses. Then I was told I'm partially deaf in my left ear. Y'know, the whole untreated concussion thing." He could laugh about it now but he had broken down about it when he first realised he couldn't hear well out of his left side, and really almost gave up when he was told he'd probably lose it all together in that ear. "Also, y'know, anxiety. But the real kicker is the chronic migraines I get, and sometimes I get seizures. Yeah. Concussions? Not fun."

Max snorts a laugh out. "Yeah. I mean, I have chronic pain, which is a fun thing to be told that at fifteen I'll have agonising pain through my hips and knees until the day I die." She laughs still. Clearly far more accepting of her pain than she ever once was. That's nice, Steve thinks weirdly, that she's content with her pain. That she's not at war with it. "Same things, though. Like, I'm probably going to be blind by the time I'm forty. Insomnia, too. But the waking up one not the falling asleep one. PTSD, which is also fun."

"Tell me about it." 

She snorts again. The asks. "Where do you work?" 

"Hmm? Oh, just at this diner." He says. Finally starts eating his own food. Always falls into the habit of making sure those around him are nourished before himself no matter how hard he's tried to lose that habit. "I'm working night shifts at the minute before Stella starts kindergarten.  That way we have the days together. My neighbour watches her, but it's only for another year or something. Then I'll work the days and-"

"Stella? Your daughter?" 

Steve blossoms with the blushing fondness he feels when he feels Stella's name connected to himself. The pride and love connected to those six letters.

"Yeah." 

"I love it." Max eyes Steve's almost dull plate and her almost empty one knowingly. "Can I meet her?" 

Steve smiles. Like that was ever out of the question. "Of course. You got a place to stay tonight or are you headed home?"

"Mom thinks I'm visiting Mike," she says, "So I'm free all weekend."  

Steve snorts in response. "Mike?"

"She gets suspicious if I visit Lucas too much." 

"Oh, I wonder why?" 

She punches his shoulder, light and playful. "It's not like that anymore. You missed a lot, old man."

"Old man? Oh, you're done for, Mayfield." 

She squeals when Steve bumps their shoulders together. She's about to start a war when Steve hears a familiar, little cry for help. He excuses himself down the hallway where Stella has her hands around the bars of the baby gate like she's a prisoner. 

"I'm stuck!" She declares, helpless to the lock just out of her reach. There’s nothing dangerous in the apartment to give Steve reason to baby gate her room except to know where she is. He doesn't do it at night. Lets her wander across to his room any time she needs.

"You're stuck?" He says back to her, acutely aware that Max will one hundred percent take the piss out of him for his baby voice. "Oh no!" 

She makes grabby hands for him once he un-stucks her (unlocked the baby gate), still groggy from her nap. Always needs a little nap in the afternoon, and Steve can't blame her. Of course, he picks her up. Can't say no, which is going to prove difficult one day. Carries her down the hall with her bedhead against his shoulder. 

"We have a guest," Steve stage whispers to Stella once Max can see them. Pointedly, he does not look at her. Stella's interest piques, head bolting up right to look at Max. "Stella, this is Max." 

Her eyes go big with wonder at the mention of the name she's heard countless times in a lot of her bedtime stories and Steve is reminded just how much he loves his life. Max, similarly, has a wide and teary-eyed smile as she waves at them, and Stella raises her hand in an eager wave back. 

-

-

Steve is late for his shift but only by a few minutes. The girls he takes over from aren't too annoyed, and neither is the chef when he leaves. Although he's constantly pissed off, so he's not more annoyed than usual. 

It's easy money. When he was living in Cambridge he worked these security shifts at bars and concert halls that would be a minimum of six hours for crowd control. Would churn out a few eighteen hour shifts a week when the summer rolled around and people were in a festival mood going to all these concerts. Meant he saw a lot of live music of all kinds, and met a lot of different people. Plus the guys he worked with were nice enough. And there were worse jobs out there.

But Larry's Diner is a dream in comparison. The owner, a single mum of three named Clair, is a force to be reckoned with but has a soft spot for Steve and his situation, as she kept referring to it. Is convinced he and Stella are running from an evil ex. As long as she pays him, she can think whatever she wants. 

When Steve first started, he was stealing food and for himself to eat at home and Clair almost fired him, until he came in for his shift with Stella in the baby carrier on his back and he cried to her about bow he could find anyone to watch her and she wasn't sleeping unless he took her on a run and how he was so tired . There, Clair took him to her office, a back room with barely enough room for a desk and chair, and sat him down. Promised him a job for as long as he lives in Chicago. That shift, she watched Stella while Steve worked, then drove them both home afterwards and cooked them dinner. Gave him all the advice she could after raising three kids on her own to teenagerhood and surviving. Promised Steve she'd always babysit if he needed a sitter. Clair may have saved both their lives.

When it was revealed that Steve could cook, Clair offered him a job she probably shouldn't have, in her words. She offered him the night shift where he would wait tables like usual and cook. It wasn't particularly difficult, especially since Larry's is at the edge of the nightlife thus rarely has an evening rush. Just the odd couple or traveller or stragglers from parties gone elsewhere. It isn't hard to cook and wait at the same time, or not overly so anyway. See, Clair could never find a chef for the night shifts so never sold food past eight. But now with Steve… 

Basically, she paid him for a waiting wage and a chef wage. Legal or not, he didn't care. He needed the money, she was very willing to hand it over. Plus, once the current manager, a bitchy student with one year left, is gone, he'll be promoted to manager. Then he'll have money flying in. 

Steve ties his apron and greets his regulars, as always. One asks about Stella so Steve asks about his kids. Another asks when he's gonna get a haircut as Steve pulls his hair into a small ponytail. 

Quickly, he cleans up what mess was left behind. A coffee cup and plate into the washing up sink. Put pens back into the pot. Straightened up the front bar. There's a set list of jobs he has to do, like topping up the napkins and rotating stock. At around three or four he has to mop the toilets and sweep the floor just as he locks up. The place shuts for two hours at four and Clair opens up at six for the early birds, opens even earlier sometimes for her favourite morning regulars. Here is where Steve gets the bulk of his sleep. Runs home and sleeps until around eight, then joins Stella for her after lunch nap for a couple of hours. It's not the healthiest thing, sure. But it works, for now. 

It's been a slow year and by midnight the place hasn't seen a customer in two hours. Steve's done all the washing up and even made himself food with the leftovers. He's preemptively mopped the ladies toilets, because the majority of late night customers are men. It's nothing sexist, he swears. He's a changed man. 

When Steve is falling asleep in his ratty copy of The Princess Bride, the bell above the door rings and startles him awake.

"Rise and shine, pretty boy." It's only Clair so he sits back down, marking his page with a bookmark Stella had decorated for him. Clair harmlessly tuts at him. "Sleeping on the job?"

"Resting my eyes."

"You really are a dad, wow."

Steve rubs his eyes and can't stifle a yawn in time. "Stella didn't go down for her lunch time nap. Then when I did get her to sleep I had an old friend show up so I couldn't get any sleep. Whatever, though. If she has a late night she'll sleep in so I can sleep in." That logic has suited them well for the last year or so. Their bedrooms are across from each other and he always leaves their doors open; he'd stir at her stirring insomnia he damned. 

"I couldn't get Sam to nap," Clair fondly chuckles, talking about her middle child. "She never went down. I could get her to sleep all night but Jen had nightmares 'til she was ten so I'd be up with her and, well. You know." Steve has heard every story of Clair's kids at least twice each but always loved hearing them again. 

Clair went through to the back with a mutter of being right back, but that could mean in two minutes or hours time, so Steve turned on the television in the corner of the ceiling by the front bar. It was on an old football game he didn't care for, so Steve flicked through the channels until he landed on the familiar face of Harrison Ford as Indy. 

As always when he watches a movie from his teen years, he gets reminiscent of Family Video. He used to love working a Sunday afternoon shift by himself because that was when Max would join him. The boys would be next door in the arcade and she'd get bored of their boyishness to hang out with Steve. He had a life, sort of, so rarely brought up her dead brother's killer in conversation, unlike one younger Wheeler. 

He used to tell Max everything, now that he thinks about it. Like his ranking of places he'd want to live as soon as he could leave Hawkins-

"Motherfucker," he said under his breath, smiling. She found him because he told her exactly where he'd go.

Steve doesn't watch Indy's adventures, instead is scrawling down dates and prices in a notebook meant for taking orders. He saw no customers, so it was fine. When Clair comes out of her office, she peers over his shoulder without a sound and makes him hump when she asks: 

"Whatcha doin'?"

He squeals, expectedly, and Clair laughs evilly. 

"Do I get paid holiday?" Steve asked her instead.

"Yup." She popped the p. "Technically, you'd get double."

"How much holiday do I have?"

She blinks her big eyelashes at him. "You haven't taken a day off basically ever, Steve. You've got two months at least."

"Oh. Cool."

"Why? Planning a big trip?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "No, just. You know I said I had an old friend stop by?" 

She nods. Clair knows all about Steve's past. Well, as much as the general public are allowed to know. She knows his friend's little brother went missing and almost died, and knows he and his friends were in the mall when the fire broke out and almost died. Knows about the earthquake and the tragedy that fell upon him and his friends in the wake. She knew he left them all behind for complicated reasons he's explained to her in great detail, and while she doesn't necessarily agree with his choices she also knows all about his parents and his childhood so she has some sympathy. 

"Yeah, it was someone from Hawkins. Basically my baby sister. She's graduating this year and invited me, and everyone's gonna be there so it's gonna be a big thing, probably." He doesn't know if they can all afford that much time in Hawkins, but figured it only made sense. If Max is getting them all home she was probably planning a week long party, too, to keep them there. "Just, y'know, I still need an income, so I was just making sure I could afford to go- to go home for a week or something. I don't know. I'll have to check with Max, of course, but-"

"Do these friends know about Stella?" Clair cuts him off. 

He gingerly fixes his gaze on the counter and a spot he could never get out. "No. Well, Max does now. But the others don't." 

Clair nodded. "And you're both going to Indiana?" 

"Well I'm not just gonna leave her." 

"Of course not." Clair hums in contemplation. "It's gonna be a lot, hon," she says after a while. "I'm not trying to deter you or anything like that, okay? I'm talking to you like I'd talk to Jen. You've gotta get down there, and you don't have a car. You'll need somewhere to stay that accommodates toddlers and presumably some sort of childcare. Plus, travelling will be stressful for Stella as well as the whole meeting her dad's estranged friend-family. Stop looking at me like that, Steve. Don't roll your eyes. Just-" She sighs. "Of course you can have time off and of course you can have paid leave if you need it. Just please make sure you aren't doing something impulsive that'll hurt both of you before the plan is already in motion, yeah?" When Steve doesn't look at her, just grunts in response, she cups a warm hand around his cheek and kisses the other. "You're like a son to me, you know this. I'm telling you this because I have yours and Stella's best interests at heart and I know what you're like." 

Steve closes Larry's early with permission from Clair. He takes a deserted L home, takes a melatonin on the way so he'll be able to fall asleep when he gets back, and finds Max awake on his couch, Chewey curled on her stomach. 

"Hey." She says without looking at him. 

He doesn't say hi back, instead kicking his shoes off and placing the shoe rack next to Stella's Wellingtons. Max doesn't seem to mind. 

"Your kid's the best." 

"I know." 

"Joan is nice, too."  Steve asks where she is. "Went home. Took the photo albums with her, by the way, so I've seen all the pics of you. I told her I'd call if anything happened since I'm not getting any sleep right now."

Steve makes an Ah sound in response. "Well, if it's no offence to you I am going to sleep. We can go to the P-A-R-K tomorrow and talk, yeah?" Stella is like a dog hearing walk or treat at mention of the park, so he's taken to spelling while she's still learning. Max waves him off with a good night. 

He pokes his head into Stella's room, finds her fast asleep and starfished across her bed, can't even be annoyed at how hard brushing her hair will be in the morning because of how cute she looks. As soon as his head hits his own pillow, he's out like a light until his bed his bouncing under six tiny feet demanding breakfast. 

-

-

The park is busy at mid morning but Steve and Max manage to find a bench close to where Stella is running around with a barbie in one hand and a miniature basketball in the other. 

Max had grimaced through the walk and quickly Steve realised keeping up with a three year old and walking so far in, admittedly, not very warm weather probably wasn't doing her joints any good. She insisted she was okay, though. But he got them sat down as quickly as Stella would allow. Now, there's just a quiet hum between them of admiration as Stella runs circles around a tree. Her blonde hair blows behind her where it's not tied back with a pink ribbon.

"She's just like you," Max says after a while. "Like, I don't know, at first I was a bit sceptical that she was actually yours or real, you know how it is." He does not. "But then we're watching Tom and Jerry last night and she- Like, she has this little concentration face and it's just like yours." 

He laughs. "Yeah. We get told that a lot." 

"The others'll tell you the same thing." She doesn't say it as a push as much as an observation, but she does flash her eyes to the side to see if he got the hint. Of course he did. 

"How come you're graduating late?" Steve asks instead. Max rolls her eyes like she knew he'd divert the conversation here. Excuse him and his curiosity.

"Basically, my grades and attendance from the half of freshman year that I attended were shi-" Max holds her breath and looks around, and Steve knows that face. "They were really bad. So I had to repeat."

"Nice save," Steve says, knowing Stella's nowhere in earshot. Well, not close enough to hear a muttered swear and repeat it. Definitely within earshot. "Good for you, though. Proud of you." 

Max snorts. "Yeah, thanks, dad ."

"Ew."

Similarly, she grimaces too.  "Felt weird coming out of my mouth." Then she barked a laugh. "Oh my God, Steve! You're a dad!"

"Crazy, right?" He chuckles and spots Stella talking to one of the kids they see here fairly often. "I'm still getting used to it." 

Max sighs, shifts in her seat a little bit to face Steve as directly as her knees will allow. "I'm not gonna tell you you're stupid for doing it on your own. I just wanna know why you did it by yourself."

"It's not easy to explain. I swear it wasn't anything personal. I just-" 

At that moment, Stella ploughs into the side of Steve's legs and the force knocks his into Max's. She flinches, curls her hands into fists the way Steve knew well. 

"Dad!" She shouts, draws the word out for a long time. "Play with me?" Stella climbs up onto the bench, huffing and puffing like she's climbing Everest, until she's stood at the edge beside him. His hands shoot out behind her, just in case. Instead of back, she falls forwards, interpreting his hold as open arms for a hug. She smacks herself into him and he returns the hug. 

Steve shoots Max a You okay? look, and she nods back. "Go on, Stell. Start your game and I'll be there in one second." He nods for reassurement and Stella hops down, leaving behind the barbie and basketball for Steve to put into her backpack. 

"Can Max play?" Stella asks, looking up at Max with big, hopeful eyes. Inadvertent puppy eyes. They start young. 

"Uh-" Max starts. 

"You can play with Max at home, yeah? Show her your tea set?" Steve offers instead, knowing his daughter can't turn down a tea party. Stella considers this for a second before nodding. Contract sealed. She then runs off for the play equipment. "Gotta go or she'll get upset. I swear this time I'm not avoiding talking." Max nods, believing him. 

Steve gets to the playground just as Stella teaches the slide. She can't get all the way up the ladder yet so waits for Steve to help her up. 

"Go on, climb to where you can."  

She does, climbs with Herculean effort to the middle of the ladder, then declares she can't do any more. 

"What if I moved your foot here?" He has one hand wide across her back, ready to catch her but more so she can feel he's there. The other touches her foot, daring to lift it for her.

But Stella shakes her head. 

"Okay. No worries." Steve hooks his hands under her armpits and lifts her up to the platform in front of the slide. "Great job, Stell. You're getting better every time." 

"I am?" 

"Yeah. Closer to the next step every time, baby. I'm telling you." 

She considers this and Steve wondered if their thinking faces were identical, too. "Okay. Next time."

"Next time." 

She goes down the slide with a cry and Steve claps his hands for her. She falls into a fit of giggles and hops out the way for the next slider. When she runs back to the steps, waiting her turn, she bounces with excitement. Steve looks away for one second to make sure Max is still where they left her, and when he turns back Stella is halfway up the ladder already. 

"Woah, now. Careful." He jumps behind her just in time to catch her as her foot slips off the railing of the next step. So close. 

She falls into his arms, barely even falls when he's right there. But the motion still seems to send her stomach flying, and quickly her face crumbles. 

"Oh, baby girl. Come here," he says as fat tears slip down her cheeks and she sucks back a wail with little effect. He carries her back to the bench, smoothing a hand down and up her back. There, he sits her down and kneels in front of her, taking her tiny hands into his. 

"You were so close." Her lips tremble in their frown. "Are you hurt?" She shakes her head. "Good. Just scared you, didn't it?" She nods, chin to chest, and Steve pulls her into a hug. Her arms stretch across his shoulders and pull at his t-shirt, while his wrap around her body like a non-deadly boa constrictor. 

"You're alright," he tells her. "You're good, baby girl. I've got you." 

Her tears quieten to sniffles in no time, and when she pulls her head from the crook of his neck his collar is wet through. Her nose and eyes are a rosy red and his heart breaks every time she cries. 

"What's gonna make you feel better, huh? Turn that frown upside down?" He hums, finger to chin as he thinks. "You wanna go home?" She shakes her head with a small, wet giggle. "Okay. What about… Ice cream?" Her eyes light up and she nods, a wild grin splitting her face. "Alright. Let's get ice cream." 

"Horsy ride!" She shouts, so Steve fakes a sigh and tells her to turn around. Slipping his head between her legs so she can sit on his shoulders, apparently like a horse. 

"You wanna come with?" He asks Max. 

She has this wondrous look plastered on her face. Something indescribable Steve doesn't want to understand. She shook her head. "Gonna rest up a bit before I gotta go home." 

"Want me to get you anything?" He can feel Stella playing with his hair. Max nods. "Same order still? One scoop chocolate, one scoop pistachio?"

Max grins. "Yup." 

Steve sets on his way to the ice cream store just opposite the end of the park, Stella babbling all the wrong lyrics to a Madonna song. Then, she says, "Dad?" in her big questions voice that makes Steve nervous. 

"What's up, buttercup?" 

"Why can't Max play at the park?" 

Steve cleared his throat to buy him time to figure out how to explain chronic pain to a toddler. "Well, everyone has the right to choose to play or not. Some people don't want to play, but-" 

"Max doesn't want to play with me?" 

Shit. Not what he meant. "No. No Starlight, of  course she wants to play with you. What I meant to say was Max… Max feels a lot of pain sometimes and can't physically play."

"Why?" 

"Well, when she was younger Max got into an accident that meant she broke a lot of bones. You remember when Richie next door broke his leg?" He feels her nod. "She broke a lot of bones and sometimes they still hurt, now." 

"Oh," Stella says. "What sort of accident?"

"Do you remember I told you about that earthquake in my hometown?" 

"Yeah."

"Max got hurt during that." 

"Is she okay now?" 

"Most of the time." Steve couldn't really explain her pain, especially since he didn't know how it'd been for the last four years. But he could try to answer his kid's questions. "It's like how I hit my head too many times and now when there's thunderstorms we get to sleep all day."

"'Cause of your my- migrins?"

He hums a chuckle despite the subject matter. "Close. Migraines." 

"Migraines."

"Yes. Good." They exit the park and the ice cream shop is in sight. "You could ask Max about her pain, if you want to know more. She'll explain it better than me."

"Okay. Can I have chocolate, please?" 

-

-

Begrudgingly, Max accepts the heat pack and drive to the bus station that Steve offers her the next morning. More threatens her than offers it, really. 

It's Joan's car. She and Rich don't work weekends and don't do anything on Sundays, so she usually offers it to Steve for anything he and Stella have to do. 

Max isn't impressed. "You gotta get your own car, dude. This is-" She kicks another empty pack of cigarettes out from under her chair. It's Rich who smokes, and only ever in his house. Never around Stella. 

"I know."

They've only been parked in front of the station for five minutes, arrived too early. 

"But I haven't got the money for daycare let alone a car." Not a complete lie, but not all honest. The daycares local to Steve aren't the best, but he doesn't have money for the nice fancy daycares the rich kids go to. Has savings but really needs them for bills each month. 

"I really hope I'm not the first one to tell you this since you're twenty three, but maybe you should get a real job," Max says. 

"That's easier said than done," he sighs. "There's not a very big demand for single dads in their mid twenties who didn't get into college in the business world, you know?" 

"Right. I just mean… You know, my mom had this boyfriend last year and he didn't go to college but he's, like, a manager now. Just 'cause you didn't go to college then doesn't mean you can't do anything."

He sighs. "Thanks, Max." It isn't sincere and she can tell. 

"I'm just saying you-" 

"And I'm just saying I have bigger things to think about right now." 

There's tension in the air now and Stella must be able to tell because she asks what's wrong. 

"Just a misunderstanding, honey." 

"Jus' a miss-uh-standing." She nods, like she gets it. Steve can't help but chuckle. 

He takes a deep breath in and holds it. Better at talking about his feelings than blowing up, but he was raised like dynamite and had explosive tendencies bred into him. 

The first thought he has isn't fair, but it's true. Talking to Max is bringing up a lot of reminders for why he left Hawkins in the first place. His parents thinking so little of him when he couldn't reach their astronomically high expectations of him. His friends thinking he's nothing more than a dumb jock who can't land a better job than part-time retail. The reputation built for him that he just can't shake. 

"Max," he says, more serious, thoughts neatly collected. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry I left and didn't tell you, I know that hurt you. I know it hurt all of you, and I'm sorry. But please don't start talking to me now like I'm still a dumb kid." He sighs and before she can't say anything, he carries on. "I'll come to your graduation. Call me when you're back and you've got the details all sorted out, but for now let's keep it between us. I don't-"

"I get it. It'll be our surprise." Then she hesitates. "I'm gonna hug you now." 

"I'd like that." 

-

-

"What do you think?" Steve asks Stella, who's sat in the driver's seat of a car, reaching all the way up to touch the wheel. 

"It isn't pink," she said with a pout. 

"Well, no. But they don't make a lot of pink cars in our budget," Steve offers. "But it is red! You love red!" 

The car is a rust red 1987 Rover 200 and looks like it might be on its last legs, but he's getting a good offer and, yeah, he really needs a car. He has a car seat for Stella already, a gift from Joan and Rich upon his moving in. Had previously used it so he could leave her on the couch while he took a piss or got a fresh coffee to make sure she didn't roll off and concuss herself. 

"Can't reach the pedals," Stella says, nodding solemnly. 

He chuckles. "Well, that's okay. You won't be needing to reach them for a good few years." She moves to get out and Steve swoops in, picking her up. She's light as a feather for him and he'll carry her whenever she wants, however old. She could be seventeen and asking for a horsy ride and Steve wouldn't be able to tell her no. He takes a look in the car before he swings the door shut and finds Stella's plush snake left behind. "Oh, can't forget Nelly!"

"Nelly!" Stella cries, reaching for her rainbow snake. 

Nelly the 'Nake. Stella struggles with her pronunciation of 'sn' words, can't ever get the s out. So it's Nelly the Nake and a pavement full of 'nails and 'now at Christmas time. She's perfecting smile right now, though. Focusing on the ' sm' sounds. 

Stella snuggles the snake to her face. Nelly is one of her favourites. There's Floppy, or Sir Flops depending on the day, the bunny she's slept with since she was a new-born. And there's a small but growing collection of carebears by her bed. Steve's personal favourite is Cowboy Puppy, fit with his own cowboy hat and vest, who Stella calls Jam. There's an entire army of soft toys in her room that she's collected over the years. 

"Has it been approved?" Clair asks from behind, walking up to them with a pamphlet and cup of coffee in one hand. She'd been kind enough to offer Steve and Stella a lift to the car dealership in return for a night with Stella. Apparently she misses when they're young and pliant , sick of her teenagers' attitude. 

"I think so," Steve says, then to Stella, "Whaddya say, Stell? Good?" 

She hums, then grins. "Good."

"Great!" Clair laughs. "C'mon, kid, you go do all the adult stuff. I'll take Stella to look at the ducks out front." 

"Ducks!?" Stella screeches and some faraway dog is probably going crazy right now. She loves ducks. If the fixation sticks, Steve's getting her a full plush duck set for her birthday. But that's in seven months so her interests will probably change by then. 

Steve hands his daughter off, who's already wriggling out of his arms to go see the birds. She wants to walk now, so Steve instructs her to hold Clair's hand and always stay where she can see her. Stella listens, because she always does. 

Steve does the adult stuff. He signs stuff and hands over cash and makes dry jokes with the guy selling him the car. 

It's a birthday present to himself. He doesn't do the whole birthday thing, really. He and Stella go out for breakfast for lunch at a nice diner. Fill up on waffles and pancakes galore, even a chocolate sundae if they have room. He can't do nothing, because it sets a bad example. Like, why should Stella get a day of fun and presents and a party, but Steve get nothing? So they do something "for him" when it really makes the day more special for her. She makes him a card or a picture. He'd gently explained that some people when they're adults just don't want presents for their birthdays, and Stella loudly professed she'd always want presents, and he'd make sure she always got them. 

So, a good lunch and a car would do him just fine this year. And a new drawing of him and Stella to hang up on the fridge. In this one they're a king and princess, and Steve cherishes it. 

When the deal is all done and dusted, and Steve is spinning the keys around his fingers like he used to, he joins Clair and Stella outside. There's a small, green pond just outside the dealership and, sure enough, on the small patch of grass around the pond are some ducks. Stella's face is lit up and Steve wishes he could take a picture. 

"Wow, Stell!" Steve says, catching her attention. "Ducks!" 

"Ducks!" She squeals back. She's sitting on the ground, absently plucking at the grass, like she doesn't even know she's doing it. Clair is standing behind her. She doesn't want grass stains on her new jeans, Steve knows. 

"Have you got bread?" She asks. 

Steve empties his pockets for her and finds a melted chocolate bar and two receipts. "Sorry. No bread. And I don't think ducks like chocolate." She pouts. "C'mon, Star, I know the nice men with the cars feed them every day, so they're not hungry. But you know who is hungry?" She looks at him, and he points his thumb into his chest. "This guy. Wanna get some lunch?"

"Okay." The ducks are out of mind now. 

"Hey, whaddya say we take the car to a drive-thru?" 

"Wha's a drive-fru?" 

"A drive-thru. You basically drive to a restaurant and they serve you through a window. C'mon, you'll love it." 

"Okay!" She hops up and bounds to Steve to grab his hand. 

"You know what you'd love even more? A drive- in ." He knows she doesn't know what one is. "You can drive to a big park and they show a movie on a big screen and you watch it from your car." 

"Can we go?" 

"I'll see what I can do."

-

-

What do you buy for your friend who you haven't seen in four years as a graduation present? The question that has been plaguing Steve through the last week of May. Additionally, is he supposed to get gifts for all of the friends be hasn't seen in that time? To make up for all the birthdays and Christmases and other graduations he missed? Because if so he's going to have to take out a small loan. 

Max used to skate. Then, she liked watching horror movies because none of the cinema horror could compare to the actual horror of her adolescence, her words not his. But now? She must have seen every horror movie since being let out of the hospital at least twice. Had a promised movie date that needed fulfilling. He couldn't just buy her the latest slasher or the newest Stephen King book. And the whole skating thing was definitely off the table. 

Max likes Lucas. Or… did? She loves El. She likes Mike but would never say it out loud. She loves her friends, end of. Pretty shit gift, though. She likes pistachio ice cream and things that remind her of California, but not of Billy. She couldn't wait to drive, but now isn't allowed a licence. 

On Monday night, when no one is in Larry's, Steve makes a list of everything she might like. 

He'll get her flowers. That's a given. Maybe the florist his mom used to go to is still in business, and they'll have something nice. Not that he knows what her favourite flowers are. But everyone loves flowers, so it's fine. 

As well, he decides, he'll get her some chocolate. Some of that nice stuff she helped herself to from Steve's cabinet. The special treat only chocolate he saves for stressful days. She'll like that. And maybe he can get everyone some chocolate, too.

That thought then starts up a whole second list of other people he needs to buy presents for and what they might like. He'll buy Robin and Nancy some nice flowers, too. They'll appreciate them. Probably buy a bouquet for Mrs Wheeler, too, since Max informed him her after party was being held at the Wheelers. Mike, Will and Eleven would appreciate some nice chocolate, surely. Dustin and Lucas is where it gets hard. Of course Steve had- has favourites. Before Stella, Dustin always had the number one spot. Then he shared that place with Max. Lucas was one step down. Then Mike, begrudgingly for Steve to admit, because he knew the kid better than Will or Eleven who sat just below him. 

Then, his remembering of his favouritism has him wondering how they'll take being replaced by his kid. Then starts planning speeches and apologies to each of them to forgive him for replacing their spots least of all leaving them. 

In no time, his shift is over and he is no closer to buying presents than he was before. 

On Tuesday, he takes Stella shopping. They need to do a small food shop, since Steve accidentally left the milk out to spoil and they ran out of butter quicker than he expected. So it's the perfect excuse to buy some of that chocolate, too. And get a card. Maybe buy everyone a Sorry! card, too.

"Am I overthinking this?" He asks his toddler, as if she'll know. Expectedly, she shrugs and goes back to playing with Cheer Bear in the back of the car. 

Together, they buy the groceries. Then they move on to buy the chocolates and Steve is peer pressured into buying Stella an ice cream. In a thrift store, where Steve is trying to find something appropriate to wear to a graduation afterparty at his ex's house with all of his old friends, no sweat, Stella finds a yellow sun hat that has little cat ears on the top and Steve is legally obliged to buy it. He finds her a new pair of sunglasses, too, because she always loses them. For himself, he buys a plain, white shirt and figures it'll look fine once he's ironed it. Could dress it up or down, if Max would just tell him the dress code. Found nothing gift worthy, though. 

Wednesday rolls around and Clair offers to take Stella for the day. In those rare hours alone, Steve does what any man would: packs his bags ready for his probably triggering vacation to his hometown while trying not to have a panic attack about everything. 

His bag doesn't take long to pack. They're going for two weeks, though two of those days are travelling days so they're only spending twelve in Hawkins. Already that's twelve too many, Steve cowardly thinks. But it isn't hard to pack for himself. A few shirts, at least one pair of proper trousers to combat all the shorts and sweats he'll undoubtedly live in. Made sure his copy of The Princess Bride was neatly tucked in do the cover didn't rip all the way off. 

It's Stella's packing that becomes the problem. 

In his bag, he'd already accommodated for the sunscreen and medicine, packed her strawberry shower gel next to his dollar store shampoo and conditioner. If teen him could see him now… 

He knew he was going to ask her to choose which clothes, books and toys she wanted to bring. He could pack the other stuff, but God forbid he choose the wrong shirt. 

Clair said she'll bring Stella back for four, so Steve goes for his middle of the day nap early and figures he can eat later. But then the phone rings. 

"Steve speaking." 

"Hey, it's me." Max.

"What's up?"

"You sound cranky."

"I'm stress packing and about to take a nap," he says. "I am cranky."

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Look, just wanted to confirm that you're coming on Saturday, still." 

Saturday June 6th has been circled on his calendar for two months. He holds in an agitated sigh. "We'll be there." 

"Sweet," she says, then pauses. "Sorry. Just, I know what you're like sometimes and I just really want you here and- Sorry."

"It's fine. Don't apologise." 

She doesn't reply and Steve assumes she's nodding. "Right," she says eventually. "Well, just letting you know Hawkins is experiencing a minor heatwave right now so be prepared for that. Ceremony starts at ten. Party starts at four-"

"Like you said last time."

"Alright, cranky-pants. I'll let you take your nap."

"Thanks-"

"Just one more thing!"

This time he does sigh.

"Thank you," she says. "For coming. I know you will. So- Thanks." 

Steve spends all of Thursday persuading Stella to pack her sundresses instead of her favourite coat. They had to buy a new swimsuit when they realised hers from last year was now too small. Steve thought that had been enough incentive for Stella to pack warm, but alas. He is wrestling with her. Offering to just put it in the back of the car instead of her case. 

She chooses her toys with ease and picks up almost all of her books. They don't have a weight allowance or anything, so Steve just packs them into a plastic bag to take with.

Before he leaves for work, when all of their stuff is packed and Stella's winter coat is sat next to the unopened armbands and floatie they bought with her swimsuit in the trunk, Steve makes sure everything is in the car. Joan supervises, checks things off the list. Make sure he's got everything he didn't even think of. He makes sure she'll still feed Chewey and his sourdough starter, like she promised. Water the plants he hasn't killed. 

During his shift, he finds the lists he made at the start of the week and realises he is yet to get Max a present. 

It's a three hour drive, give or take. They're leaving after lunch so Stella will hopefully sleep through most of the journey. They'll get to Hawkins in time for dinner, but they could stop in Indianapolis, if needed. There'd be something there, surely. Otherwise he could just wake up early and shop for something before the ceremony. 

There's this voice in his head telling him the obvious: Max doesn't want a gift. But if Steve made a habit of listening to the voices in his head he'd be dead by now. 

At this point, he's gone past the idea of buying everyone presents. The nice chocolate was too expensive to justify buying it for everyone. And he didn't really have any other ideas, did he? Especially not when he blew most of his cash on booking a spot at summer daycare so Stella didn't have to come to everything if she didn't want to. Then he had no ideas other than flowers for Max. 

He had the genius idea of baking them all cookies, but only got this idea at two in the morning and simply wasn't wasting four hours to make cookies for the people who might not even want to see him!

That's the real kicker in all of this: his friends, if he can even call them that anymore, might not be happy to see him after everything. 

Max is different. Max is his little sister and obligated to like him. Dustin, had the roles been reversed between him and Max, is the exact same. He'll be over the moon, Steve is willing to bet. Robin will be angry and probably cry, but out of love. The others are more unpredictable. Plus, his predictions are based on intel he gathered over four years ago, so very well could have changed since then. Evolution and all that.

Oh, God, and then there's the adults. They'll fawn over him, the way they always do. Their lectures about him needing anything to come to them changing to long, long talks about why he didn't have to do it all by himself. Actually, he'll have to have that talk with everyone, and he really doesn't want to. It'll insult them or break their hearts at best. He doesn't want to know the worst. 

Stella will make it all better. For him, anyway. His ray of sunshine, his starlight. At the end of the day, if it all goes sour, he can pack them up and ship them back to Chicago. She won't notice or care. Max might, but screw it. He'll make up some excuse and say his daughter comes first, always . Max couldn't argue with that if she tried.

-

-

The universe, it seems, hates him.

Firstly, after a successful drive and successful check in at their motel just at the edge of Hawkins, Stella was too excited and went to bed late. So Steve went to bed late, and is now exhausted as he's literally running back to his car.

When he dropped Stella off at daycare, she cried. Hugged his legs like a lifeline and got Steve in tears, too. She didn't want him to go. The sight of her red nose and teary eyes almost had him phoning up Max, honest to God. But Steve picked her up, kissed her nose, forehead and cheeks, and told her, "I have something really important I have to do today but it's not for kids. It's going to be boring for a short while, then loud and busy afterwards. Too much for little girls, okay?" 

She didn't like being called little, but just sniffled and pouted. "Not little." 

"No, you're not. But your ears are." He tapped them, made her giggle a little. "You're not little. You're strong and brave and I think you're gonna have lots of fun here, yeah? Can you try for me? To have a good day?" Stella nodded, brave. "That's my girl. I love you so much, Starlight." 

"Love you most," she said back to him, hugged him one last time before he put her down so the worker could take her hand. Steve thinks they might have gone to school together, but neither of them said anything.

After a short cry in the car, Steve went to get flowers having forgot one crucial thing.

His mother's old florist, while still very much in business, charges more than his rent for a small bouquet. Steve may or may not have forgotten that he used to be rich. Thus ensues a mad dash to every gas station until he finds a nice enough bouquet of mixed tulips. 

Which takes us to now: Steve running to his car because he is going to be very late if he doesn't break the speed limit driving to Hawkins High. 

By the time he arrives, he's pulling in as the Principle is giving a speech, the usual spiel of how good the graduating class had been and what an honour it was to be a part of making the next generation of insert-career-paths-here. He's heard it all before, so isn't too worried about missing it. He just has to be there to see Max walk. Anyway, she's an M. She won't be walking for a long time. 

He's too awkward to find his seat, so opts for standing beside the bleachers. Watching from the sidelines. And, hey, this way it's more of a surprise, right? He'll simply wait by the exit for Max to come out, and surprise her, and everyone else presumably, then. 

There are a few teachers and people sat in the bleachers who notice him and one hundred percent recognise him, so Steve keeps his focus dead set on the stage and the chairs all in front, wondering if he can pick out Max's red hair from the sea of hair colours and styles under the green hats. When he thinks he's found her, they're calling the first few names and Steve quickly forgets what he's doing. Now is the time to focus. Sort of. Not until the M's, but might as well start paying attention now. He hasn't had to put so much effort into focusing on something so mature in a while. A lot easier to follow than some of Stella's games, though not as easy as losing time because he's as absorbed in Scooby-Doo Where Are You? reruns as she is. 

When Max's name is finally called, her classmates cheer and the bleachers erupt from somewhere Steve can't quite see in cheers. Max wheels herself to the stage where someone - Erica Sinclair, Steve realises with a jaw drop synonymous to a Looney Tunes anvil bit - is waiting with her crutches. But Max doesn't take them. Just a safety net. When Max starts the stairs, it's slow. Erica has already run off with her chair and crutches to wait at the other side of the stage. 

No one rushes her or complains. Not even an eye roll. People just watch in anticipation as the girl told she'd never feel her feet again holds the handlebars of the stairs and pulls herself up unassisted. 

When she walks to the principle for her diploma, who has taken a gracious step closer to her and offered a hand, which Max takes for only a second, disguised as a handshake, the crowd is silent. But the middle of the bleachers roar when Max holds her diploma up to the crowd, shaking it with a prize winning smile. Steve couldn't hold back if he wanted to. Everyone is clapping and whooping, even the people who probably don't even know who she is, and Steve is no outlier. He cheers, claps. Hollers her name and hopes she hears, knows he saw her. 

He doesn't cry, but it reminds him of when Stella took her first steps, and he did cry then.

After she's safely back in her chair and wheeling herself back to her spot, Steve lets himself stop paying as much attention. Doesn't need to hear M through Z. 

At the telltale sign of the end of the ceremony, Steve dashes to his car to retrieve the flowers he forgot. They didn't wilt too much in the sun, but they're not looking their best. Not that they looked great when he bought them, but whatever. He takes his place at the edge of the bleachers like before, watches the tail end of everyone throwing their caps into the air, and waits. 

His heart hammers. He doesn't think he should be this scared, and yet he is. The tulips tremble and he wills his tremors away. Can't stand himself when he has the shakes. 

Families start pulling their kids into hugs and walking them out to the car park or onto the field for more pictures. One person definitely looks Steve in the eye and double takes at the sight, but he doesn't know if it's from his charm or their recognition. In the chaos, he loses sight of Max, and when trying to look for her gets swept up in the moving crowd. He decides he'll wait by his car instead, figures he'll see her or at least one of them somewhere. 

Except… Except suddenly it's just his car and the principal's and Max is gone. They all are. He missed them.

Fuck . 

He's failed her. He said he'd show up and she's got no idea he actually did. She's probably cursing his name right now. 

But- 

But there's still the afterparty!

Yes! Steve thinks. 

He brews a plan on the way to daycare, knows he can't pick Stella up for another three hours but hopes someone there can provide him with a list of babysitters who might just take a last minute booking. 

Someone does, the receptionist who Steve doesn't recognise but she asks if he's Steve Harrington so he guesses they must've gone to school or been on one date or something. Doesn't actually care when he's got a list of business cards and handwritten phone numbers advertising all sorts of dorky babysitting names.

Steve drives back to the motel in a calmer state than he left it, and proceeds to spend two hours phoning all of the babysitters and being declined by all of them. He'd originally planned to tell Max he wouldn't be able to make it to the party, not wanting to dump everything on everyone the first day. Wanted to ease them into it. Plus, she'd know the reason he was cancelling. But now there was no way he couldn't show up.

The last is just a girl named Lilly. A junior, apparently. Local to the area but has a licence so can, on occasion, go out of town. At first she seems hesitant, but when Steve offers to pay double if she can come to the motel at five and watch Stella for three hours at most, she accepts.

He considers phoning the Wheeler's to let them know he'll be late, then remembers they didn't even know he's coming. Considers calling Max but knows she's at lunch with her mom. Then realises if he doesn't leave right now he'll be late to pick Stella up. 

The receptionist asks if he had any luck when he arrives, though Steve can't reply before Stella runs into his legs. 

"Daddy!" She cries.

"Stella!" He cries back, lifting her up so she can hug him properly. "How was your day? Did you have fun?" 

"Lots of fun. We played kitchen and we had story time and then we had nap time and look!" Stella pulls off her backpack in his embrace and pulls out a small stuffed bear. "It's for being brave." 

"Did you say thank you?" She nods. Steve takes the bear to inspect it, making a show of it for her. "Wow, Stell. This is a top notch bear alright." 

"Top notch," she mirrors.

"Mm-hmm. Top notch bear for a top notch girl." 

At the motel, Steve sits Stella on their bed and hands her her backpack so she can play with her new toy and show him her drawings. After he's promised to stick all of them up once their back at home, because he can't stick them up in the motel room despite her asking, she asks if they can watch a movie. 

"I gotta tell you something, baby, wait a minute." 

Stella doesn't look at him with dread when he says this and he wonders what age they start developing that. She just nods and let's him talk. 

"In about an hour, a really nice girl called Lilly is going to come here and you're going to watch all the movies you want with her or play as many games with her as you want 'cause I need to go somewhere." He watches her process every one of his words and sees the moment it sets in. 

"You're leaving me again?" 

"Oh, baby-" He can't say no, that'd be lying. "It's not like that-"

"But you left this morning and I didn't want you to. And now you're going again!" She's starting to tear up and it comes out all babbled and wet, but he follows perfectly. Fluent in toddler speak. 

"It's not because of you, Stella. It's never because of you," he says quickly, knowing the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He scoots her closer to him so he can hold her hands. "Tomorrow, we can have the whole day together. I just need to see some people tonight. I'll only be gone for a little bit." 

"Only a little bit?" Her eyes are big and wet. 

"You won't even notice I'm gone. Promise." 

She nodded, not crying but unable to suck the tears back into her eyes. Steve wipes them away for her and kisses her head. 

"Still love me?" 

"Love you," she says, loud. Throwing herself at him suddenly to wrap her arms around him as wide as she could reach. 

-

-

Steve walks up the Wheeler driveway with dreadful familiarity, hands shaking still. The tulips long since wilted but still in his hand, now with the chocolate he thankfully remembered. He feels like he's experiencing withdrawal from how much time he's spent away from Stella. 

He can hear the party happening outside, the radio playing and people laughing. It's only their group, apparently, but still. Steve's sweating at the thought. 

He knocks, three times for good measure, and stands rocking toe to heel on the doorstep. His heart is in his throat. 

Footsteps grow louder from behind the door until he hears the lock turn and suddenly there's no turning back. The door swings open to none other than Nancy Wheeler. 

Rightly, her smile is wiped off her face and replaced with shock. Her brows furrow and mouth pinches, like she used to, and then she says his name like it's alien on her tongue. 

He simply blinks at her. Shocked or scared into silence. Then he manages, "Hey, Nancy. Hi. Uh, is Max here?" 

She blinks at him in response. Gives him a once over. "Yeah. Yeah, Max is here." 

"Could you- Could I talk to her, please?" 

Nancy nods, seemingly on auto drive, and tells him she'll just be a second. She leaves the door open, and he doesn't know if it's so he can let himself in. He stands there like a fool for a moment then shakes his head. Steps inside the house he knows all too well and shuts the door behind him just in time for Max's small, disbelieving voice. 

"You're here?" 

"Hey," he says, a deer in headlights. "Hey, I'm so sorry, Max. Everything sort of-" 

On her crutches she's still a Zoomer alright. In seconds she's gone from the end of the foyer to Steve, wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, crutches thrown to the floor. It doesn't take long for him to return the hug. Quickly wraps his hands around the small of her back. 

"I saw you walk," he says to her. "I'm so proud of you." 

When she pulls away her eyes are wet. "Where were you?" She asks with a wet laugh and hitting his chest playfully. 

"I was there!" He says. "I was late 'cause things got emotional at drop off. And then I went to get you flowers but I sorta forgot I don't have the money for, like, expensive bouquets anymore so I had to go to all the gas stations to find one I liked and now-" He holds up the wilted flowers. "Now they're dead so it doesn't even matter." 

"Steve-"

"When I got there the ceremony had already started and I didn't wanna just sit down with everyone so I watched from the side," he carries on. "I waited! After, I waited for you but you never came and- and then I couldn't get a sitter to come 'til five. And then I sat in my car panicking for, like, ten minutes and now-"

"Steve!" She cut him off, thankfully, smiling widely at him. "Thank you." 

He sniffs, worked up. "I'm sorry." 

"It's all good." 

"I got you that chocolate you kept stealing from mine, too." He hands it over with the dead flowers and she takes them to her chest 

"Thank you," she says again, and despite the repetition it never loses its meaning. 

Steve picks her crutches up for her and takes the gifts back while Max gets herself comfortable again. She's wiping her eyeliner from under her eyes when, from the kitchen, a voice says: 

"Max! Who was at the door?" 

Robin comes barrelling around the corner, almost runs straight into Max, but skids to a halt at the sight of Steve. Eyes wide with an infinite amount of emotions and glossing over. 

Always a fidgeter, Steve brushes his hair behind his ear, suddenly feels so weird having changed so much being in this warm house from before everything went bad . He tries to smile at her but comes up short. Max is watching from the sidelines, in case someone needs to step in. It's now that makes Steve really wish he'd doubled up on his meds this morning. 

"You're-" Robin says, blinking away tears. Steve nods. He feels like an asshole. "Is this a joke?" 

"What?" He says.

"Is this a joke?" Robin repeats. "Am I imagining this? Or, like, are you one of those actors people hire to play princesses at kids parties? Or- Or what? Because you- You left ." Robin makes the word sound acidic. Vicious in a way he never knew her. She walked up to him as she spoke, now with a finger in his chest as she reminds him of his absence with the venom of a snake bite. It's what he deserves, he guesses. 

"I'm sorry," Steve says and thinks he should start fining himself for how many times he's going to apologise over the next few minutes. Then again, if there's any appropriate time for excessive apologies, now would be it. 

"It's you?"

If it was four years ago, he might've laughed and said, You know anyone else this good looking? Or he might've joked and said No, this is Steve's evil, identical twin, Jeev . But now isn't the time for jokes. 

"It's me, Robs." 

"Oh," is all she says. 

"If you're gonna hit me, please avoid the face." He doesn't want to have to explain a black eye to Stella, but he doesn't want to explain that to Robin right now so he'll let her believe his vanity is strong as ever. 

"I'm not- Well." She looks like she actually considers it, but instead stands up tall and wraps her around his neck. 

"Oh," he says this time. Follows suit and wraps his arms around her back. 

When Robin releases her python grip around his neck, she's crying too. God, he hopes this isn't going to happen after every hug. 

"Why are you here?" She asks. 

"Max invited me," he says simply. "Couldn't miss the big day-" He realises his mistake after he's said it. Robin notices. Her brows turn up like a sad puppy and Steve can't very well take it back. 

"Where did you go?" She asks instead. 

"It's a long story," he grimaces, "and I'd rather only tell it once."

She nods, but he guesses she doesn't really understand. Not yet. Still, she swaps with Max to fix her mascara in the mirror. Steve runs a hand over his face. Kind of wishes he hadn't spent the last four years sober so he could have a shot or five to calm his nerves. Fuck, he hasn't had a thought like that in a long time…

"Ready?" Max says to him. 

He laughs. "No."

"Do you want me to, like, say something first?" 

He shakes his head. "As long as none of them are both angry and armed I think I'll live through this." It's a lie. He thinks he'll implode on the spot from his anxiety, but whatever. He flashes her a tight-lipped smile and lets the girls lead the way.  Suddenly wishes he had bought everyone chocolate but it's too late now!

Everyone is in the yard. The Wheeler garden is smaller than Steve's used to be, but it's had work done on it since he was last here. There's a patio, now. A covered up hot tub at the edge. The old slide gone, Holly grew out of it presumably. A nice, big, round table covered with a parasol. Eight chairs around it. There's a vegetable garden at the far end, too. Gated off so no running feet trample the tomatoes. 

"Guys," Max says as she walks out the kitchen door first. Robin stays at his side, arm hooked around his. Like when Stella hugs his leg and won't get off. "Hey. I have a surprise. Don't go fucking berserk- Sorry, Mrs Wheeler. Don't go berserk, okay? Please be normal, civilised adults about this or so help me God I'll find more tranquilliser and-"

"Alright!"

"We get it!"

"What is it?"

"Yeah, right!" 

A snarky, familiar chorus that has his fists finally unclenching. 

"No, I'm serious," Max says. "Swear to me that none of you are about to lose your shit. Swear you're gonna be at a calm, civilised , non panic attack inducing level over the next few minutes." A grumble of agreements follow and that seems to please Max. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at Steve. He takes that step forward and enters the Wheeler yard. 

It's all surreal. To see his old friends lounging around on sun beds and helping serve food from the grill. To see them grown up .

They're all here. 

For a minute or a year, the yard falls to silence. All eyes on him like a goddamn freakshow. He thinks his heart stops. Quite certain of it, actually. Then all the life comes rushing back into the scene, head splittingly fast and bright. 

There's the predicted swears and disbelief. Dustin, probably, shouts "Motherfucker!" while Mike declares an appropriate "Holy shit!" much to his mother's dismay. 

No one, thankfully, hits him. But everyone, at the same time, decides to charge at him for a hug and he's caught in the middle of the stampede, only kept upright by Robin taking the brunt of the impact as well. 

He has six arms around him in seconds and has never felt less claustrophobic. That being said, he still feels very much like he's inside of a human coffin trying to kill him, so he sends a pleading look of help over to Max who calls them off like dogs. 

Free from the group hug, he looks around at his friends. Eleven has grown her hair out long and looks the spitting image of a young Joyce. Lucas is taller than him now, but far from a beanstalk of a kid. Mike had a similar growth spurt but so did his hair, long like Eddie's. Will's hair, on the other hand, looks like it's finally seen by a stylist as opposed to his mom's kitchen scissors and mixing bowl. Dustin's smile hasn't changed. Behind them, he can see Nancy again, still looking at him like the biggest enigma she's faced yet. Jonathan isn't at her side like Steve expected but he doesn't miss the ring on her finger. Who does fill Jonathan's spot though is Eddie. Tall and slender still, looking shell shocked from behind his beer bottle and sunglasses as he watches the scene in front of him unfold. Steve can't blame him. 

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Dustin, front and centre, declares. 

Steve chuckles. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Do you mind if I grab a drink first?" Whether they minded or not, Steve's cotton mouth is going to help his story telling so he takes himself back into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He still knows where the cups are. 

He downs the first half hoping it'll drown him, and when he pours his second he turns around to see Robin and Eddie watching him from the edge of the kitchen like twins from a horror movie. 

"Beers are in the garage," Eddie says in the place of a hello . 

Steve shakes his head. "Sober. But thanks."

"Shit," Eddie scoffs. "Something really bad must've happened to get King Steve Harrington to go sober? What were you the king of, again? Besides Hawkins? Was- Was it the Keg King?" Steve says nothing back. From the corner of his eye he sees Robin elbow Eddie. "What?" He says to her. "I just think-"

"I'll tell you," Steve cuts him off. He hasn't heard that nickname in years. "I'll tell everyone. I just needed a drink." 

Eddie bows his head. "And be my guest just-"

Robin elbows him again, harder from the sounds of his protests. "Take your time, Steve. You look like you've seen a ghost." That makes him laugh. 

When the time comes, he tells them a half truth. 

They've all pulled chairs up around the table, though Nancy stands with her mother and sister still in shock, it seems. Max takes her chair, and El takes a seat in her lap. The boys fight for who sits next to Steve but quickly those spots are taken by Robin and Dustin. 

He sighs and tells them, "I got some important news one day and just had to leave. I'm really sorry for how it all happened but it was so fast for me. And, honestly, I didn't know I'd be gone so long." He sips his water. "I know you're going to want a more detailed explanation than that but- buy right now I am asking you to please accept that as an answer for now." The table looks sceptical. Max flashes him a look he ignores. "I'm here for a week, okay? I'm leaving on the 14th, and I will explain everything before then. But- But I can't do it all right now." 

"That's okay," Robin says. She puts her hands on top of the table. If he needs to reach out for them he can. They used to do that all the time. 

"Yeah, that's okay," Dustin says, then, "But when you say you're leaving-"

"Right." Steve clears his throat. "I mean, I'm just on vacation, you know? I need to get back to Chicago for work and- and for my cat! And-"

"You've been in Chicago this whole time?" It comes from Eddie. 

"Well, I was in Cambridge, for a little bit-" 

"Cambridge as in right next to fucking Boston Cambridge?" Nancy says this time. 

"I mean, I'm not that familiar with the geography of Massachusetts but I guess?" 

Oh, he feels like he's on trial. He feels like he's the victim of a witch hunt. Why didn't he expect worse so that this would feel better? 

Nancy and Eddie share a look. Mike and Will share one, too. Lucas and El are staring at each other and Max is watching them. Dustin is looking at Steve like he might vanish any second. 

Guilt falls on him like an anvil. How could he leave them all for so long? These are the kids he was supposed to protect and look after and he- He abandoned them. Shit, he was no better than his dad. 

Steve clears his throat. "Okay. Okay, enough about me. What have you guys been up to, huh? How's life?" 

Thankfully, the kids love talking about themselves as much as they used to. 

Dustin graduated a year early and is in his second year of a zoology course at Santa Barbara. Apparently wants to own a zoo when he's older. Lucas is a firefighter in LA. Went for a gap year so he and Max could go to college together but ended up finding the job and loving it. Mike is a creative writing and English lit student and Will is an art student at Berkeley. They're roommates, but it apparently happened out of coincidence. Robin's living in New York City double majoring in anthropology and modern languages. Wants to be a tour guide in a museum. Nancy went to Emerson, of course, and is taking her placement year in California to visit her brother. Eleven has been in Hawkins since moving back but is often away with Owens, doing tests and studies and generally recording her powers and abilities. Not for evil or anyone, really. For future kids like El who need the records. 

When Steve asks Max, she says she's going to be a therapist. Confident and unwavering certainty. She'll be the best damn therapist in the world. She's going to New York, and El is going with her. He doesn't ask, but she tells him they're dating. Have been for two years now. 

This naturally shifts the conversation topic to relationship status. Dustin and Suzie are going strong, somehow. Nancy and Jonathan got engaged over winter. Steve tells them all he's been single since he left Hawkins, which is the truth. Robin snorts and tells him he was single before that, anyway, and Steve just laughs and agrees because she still doesn't know about that faithful penultimate day. Only two people do. (Actually, Clair might know, but it doesn't matter).

Eddie helpfully points out that he's sober and has been single for four years. "You been in prison or something?" 

"No! Jesus! Do I look like a criminal?" 

"Just saying…"

"I've been busy." 

That's that. Eddie leaves it. He offers nothing about his life and Steve doesn't ask. Steve gets another glass of water. 

"Hey, just so you know," he says to Max when he comes back out to the yard, everyone dispersed now from the table to get plates of food. "I have to be back at the motel for eight or I'm gonna bankrupt myself paying the sitter. I'm sorry I can't stay longer." 

"No worries," Max shrugs and means it. "Can I come visit tomorrow?" 

"Sure, we'd like that." 

He gives her his room number as they get in line for food. Mrs Wheeler makes sure Steve fills his plate and he's grateful because he'd been so busy he'd forgotten to eat anything all day. Not that he'd tell them. 

"Oh, Steve," says Will, putting down his plate. "My mom and Hopper are coming back this week. They're having a barbecue on Thursday; you should come." 

"I'd love to, I'll just need to make sure I can." He knows Max is looking at him. 

"With who? You're on vacation," Dustin says. 

"I… keep a busy schedule nowadays." 

Dustin tuts but before he can say anything Mike asks, "Why are you wearing a bracelet?" 

It's a pink, yellow and purple beaded bracelet Stella made for him. It has an S messily painted on one of the bigger beads. He's been wearing it since Clair watched her last and completely forgot about it. It sits with the spare pink hair ties for Stella, also pink. 

"It was a gift." Not even a lie. 

-

-

Steve is unfathomably drained by the time he gets back to the motel. He hands over the cash to Lilly and thanks her when she offers her services again. Quickly, though, all the planets and stars align and he is alone with Stella. 

"Missed you," he tells her as she tucks her teddies in for bed. 

"Missed you more," she says back. 

"What did you do with Lilly?" 

Stella hums and yawns. He nods in relatable agreement. "We played and then we danced." 

"Wow, sounds fun." 

"What did you do?" 

She's standing in the doorway to the bathroom watching Steve brush his hair. Standing is an over exaggeration though considering the door frame is holding up most of her weight. He feels the same. He quickly pulls her up so she can sit on the counter, legs in the sink so she can look at herself as she gets her hair brushed. Like they do every night Steve isn't working for bedtime, he does his hair and then hers, brushing out any knots and tangles with delicate hands. She sits still and listens as Steve gives her a run down of his afternoon. Then they clean their teeth together. Her toothbrush is Tweety Bird shaped and Steve's is blue. Stella holds the brushes while Steve squirts out their toothpaste onto their respective brushes. They brush together for two minutes, more or less, she can't tell time yet. Then, finally, they can get into bed. 

While he really is trying to get Stella to sleep in her own bed at the minute, the motel didn't have a room with a toddler bed in it. So they're bunking together for the next two weeks. 

In their pyjamas, they crawl in. Stella has Floppy tucked under her arm and no story book in hand. 

"What's the bedtime story tonight then, Stells?" He prompts her. 

"Can you tell the one about the superhero again?" 

"Sure thing." He clears his throat as she tucks herself under his arm. She's already half asleep, and Steve isn't far away. "How about we start with The Piggyback That Saved The World ? Yeah?"