Chapter Text
Bullshit
Bullshit
Bullshit, you’re.. bullshit
These words kept replaying in Steve’s head, echoing across the quarry. Nancy Wheeler had managed to filet Steve completely open with slurred, simple words.
Now, now, he’s sitting at the quarry’s edge thinking about how everything about him is complete and utter bullshit. Everything he’s built about himself is based on a fake and crumbling foundation. He built himself on the words and expectations of his father, his mother, and the expectations chained to him by the Harrington name.
He’s supposed to get into some big-name university, be the captain of whatever sports team he’s on, and work at his father's company after getting his degree, even though he has absolutely no idea what the work is, only that it keeps both of his parents away for weeks or even months at a time.
But most importantly, he’s supposed to do all of this with a girl on his arm. He’s supposed to marry some girl his father approved of and start a family by the time he turns 25. Live the American nuclear family wet dream, complete with the white picket fence and all.
And how he tried to stay on that path, tried to play the part of the perfect son to perfection. He became the captain of the basketball team in his junior year, the co-captain of the swim team, and was set to become the captain of the baseball team in the spring. He’s working on sending out his college applications, even though he knows he’s not going to get into any of the schools his father set for him to apply, not when he’s already barely keeping a high enough GPA to keep his spot on his sports teams, and especially not with his mod podge college essay that he put maybe a fourth of his effort into.
Despite his father's disapproval of Nancy, he has had her. He tried so hard to return to normalcy with her after the events of last November. Taking her out on dates, seeking her out in the halls so he could carry her books and escort her to her classes. Hell, he even sat through the tortures of dinner with the Hollands, listening to how they’re selling their house so that they could afford the private investigator they had sought out to help find their daughter.
But somewhere along the line, Nancy must’ve realized that everything about Steve was bullshit.
She must’ve seen the cracks in his facade, the way his eyes lingered a second too long on Tommy before Steve realized who Tommy really was. The way Steve's body curled into the quick physical affections he was given from the freckled boy, how he would seek out his touch.
Somehow Nancy knew.
She knew his best-kept secret about himself that he kept locked away from everyone else. The one he kept locked from even himself.
Looking out at the quarry, he realized that he didn’t know how he had even gotten there. His beamer was nowhere in sight as he looked around. His pants were wet and cold along the cuffs of his jeans, and the soles of his shoes were caked in mud, matching the underside of his jeans from sitting on the ledge.
He could feel the cold seeping into his bones, but couldn’t bear to get up and begin the trek back to his house. Not when all was waiting for him was a big, empty, dark house. He couldn’t bear the thought of trying to fall asleep, not when every house from the woods behind his house would bring the memories of the demodogs to the front of his mind.
Replaying the kids’ screams in his ears, the image of the flower-headed monsters circling him in the junkyard. He would be haunted by their chirping, echoing off the walls of every room he went into while trying to avoid the way the hairs on the back of his neck would stand whenever a shadow stretched across the walls.
He couldn’t even go into the backyard, because there the blue reflection of the pool bounced off every surface, drowning him in the guilt that was the death of Barbra Holland.
The quarry shouldn’t be a comforting place. He had heard how the ‘body’ of Will was found here after the men from the lab tried to fake the boy's death.
But Steve couldn’t help that staring out over the quarry helped bring him even a sliver of peace after everything that’s happened this last year. So he stayed right where he was sitting, listening to the echo of Nancy’s words.
His spiraling thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of tires kicking up dirt and gravel as a car came to a stop somewhere behind him. The sound of a car door slamming shut was quickly followed by the boots against gravel. But Steve couldn’t be bothered to turn and look at who was approaching him, keeping his eyes locked on the water below him.
”What are you doing out here, kid?”
Steve recognized immediately who that exasperated tone belonged to. Turning his head to look at Hopper, standing a couple of feet away from him. He chose to nod his head, forgoing saying anything to the man behind him, turning his head back to the water after recognizing Hopper's existence.
Hopper scoffed at Steve’s actions before speaking again, “What are you doing out here at...” The man paused before finishing whatever he was going to say, presumably to look down at his wristwatch, Steve assumed, “at almost three in the morning, kid?”
Steve chose to avoid the concern in Hopper's voice, “Could ask you the same thing, Chief.”
“Could do without the sarcasm, Harrington,” Hopper gruffed.
The sound of Hopper’s boots against the gravel started again, and Steve noticed that the man was now standing next to him, moving to sit beside Steve on the ledge.
“How’s the face feeling, kid?” The kind tone took Steve by surprise. He let his hand run along the stitches by his temple, from where Billy smashed the porcelain plate into his head at the Byers.
“Well, I reopen my busted lip about every time I say more than three words, my nose is gonna have an even more noticeable notch in it, anytime I make an expression, I tug on my stitches”, moving his hand to gesture at the sutures rather than touch them, irritating them further, “oh and how could I forget the best part! My right eye is all fucked up and blurry, so now I have that to deal with on top of everything else going on!”
Steve finished his rant by picking up a stray rock at his side, chucking it into the quarry, straining his ears to hear the sound of it breaking the water so that he didn’t have to listen to the way Hopper’s breath hitched at the end of his spiral. He wasn’t sure why he laid all of this out to Hopper, flaying himself open and showing him what a mess he truly is.
Hopper took a minute before responding to Steve’s spiral, letting the sounds of the woods envelope the two. “I noticed your folks' car wasn’t in your driveway.” The man stated instead of acknowledging any of the word vomit Steve spewed. “They gonna be back anytime soon?”
Suddenly tired from speaking the most he had in several days, Steve declined to ask why Hopper drove past his house, or even knew about his parents' habit of leaving him alone for long periods of time. Instead, he shook his head instead of talking anymore, afraid of what else he might let slip and confess to the older man.
Hopper scoffed in response, at what, Steve wasn’t sure. Before he could give him some sort of excuse for Hopper to leave him to continue his wallowing, Steve felt Hopper’s heavy jacket hit his shoulders.
He looked at the man with question for his action, “Come on, kid, I don’t need to shovel your frozen ass off the ground, it’s too cold for your sorry ass to sit out here.” Hopper grunted as he moved to stand.
As Steve made no move to stand, Hopper rolled his eyes at the younger boy and grabbed him by the color of his sweatshirt to haul him to his feet, “Okay, Jesus, I get it, I’m going.” Steve huffed as he began to stumble after Hopper to his car, kicking at the gravel as he went.
Before getting into the driver's seat, Hopper rounded the vehicle so that he could open the passenger door for Steve. “Okay, come on, Harrington, get in.”
Steve looked at the man skeptically, but chose to climb into the seat without kicking up a fight with the older man, figuring he’s already been a pain enough. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he enjoyed having someone care for him, even if it was someone as prickly as Hopper. It was nice.
Hopper shut the door on Steve as soon as he was seated, loud enough to make Steve jump slightly at the noise after drowning in silence for so long.
The two made no move to continue any attempts at conversation as Hopper began driving away from the quarry. Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, hoping it would help ease the headache that had begun to take hold behind his eyes. The only noise in the car was the crunch of gravel and dirt beneath the tires until they reached the main road.
After what could have been minutes or hours of driving, Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he entered the car. He realized they were driving away from Loch Nora, “Hop, where are we going? This is the opposite way from my house?”
“You really must’ve taken a good beating if you think I’m sending you back to the empty house while you look like this kid.” Hopper scoffed as if something Steve said was funny, “You’re staying with El and me tonight, but don’t worry, I’ll drop you back at home tomorrow.”
Steve’s stomach began churning at the idea of taking up any more of Hopper’s time, let alone any of their space in Hopper’s cabin. “It’s fine, I’m fine really, you don't have to-” Steve began to argue before being cut off by Hopper.
“I swear to God, Harrington, if you try to give me the same ‘I’m fine’ bullshit you were spewing when Joyce saw your sorry ass after Hargrove used your face as a punching bag.” Hopper scoffed with a venom that he had never aimed towards Steve, “I don’t want to hear it, you understand.” He finished, sending a pointed look Steve’s way.
Shame began pooling in Steve’s stomach. The last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed, was to make himself someone’s problem. But that’s exactly what he’s done. He let himself get so bad that now someone else has to take care of him. He had gotten so good at taking care of himself, of bottling everything up, pushing it down, so that no one could see what a mess he truly was.
Until Nancy, he supposes.
“Don’t look like that kid, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to,” Hopper said as if he read Steve’s mind.
The two sat in silence for the rest of the ride to Hopper’s Cabin. Steve wasn’t sure how to respond to Hopper’s harsh kindness being thrust upon him.
Once they reached Hopper’s cabin, Hopper moved to get out of the car as soon as he turned the key, but Steve hesitated, frozen in his seat. Hopper continued to make his way to the cabin, as if he could sense Steve’s hesitance, giving him a minute to gather himself before getting out to join the other man.
Steve took a few deep breaths to gather himself before he got out of the car. Once he was out of the car, he realized that Hopper hadn’t yet entered the cabin, but was waiting for Steve on the porch. Once Steve trudged his way up the stairs of the porch, Hopper opened the front door.
The soft blue light enveloped the living room when Hopper opened up the door. As Steve looked around the room, he spotted a familiar mop of curly hair peaking out from the arm of the beat-up couch.
He hasn’t spoken to the girl much, given she was presumed dead for a year, and the only thing he really knows about her is that she has powers, lives with Hopper, and is, somehow, beyond him, is dating Mike (he thinks).
“El, what are you doing up? You were supposed to be in bed hours ago.” Hopper suddenly said, but Steve could tell there was no actual bite to his words; he didn’t think Hopper could ever truly be mad at the girl, not after everything.
He left the two of them to squabble amongst themselves as he continued to look around the cabin from his place by the door.
There truly wasn’t much to the cabin; there was mismatched furniture in the living room, an old TV that sat barely off the ground, and a folding table that could only sit three in place of a dining table, but it was homey. It was warm and more full of life than Steve’s house will ever be.
Steve noted several things throughout the cabin that were definitely El’s doing. Most noticeable, the thin strand of fairy lights that are hung along the tops of the walls, even around the antlers of the deer head on one of the walls, along with the small desk and bookshelf full of children’s books that are shoved into the far corner of the living room.
The living room has more personality and warmth than Steve’s own sad, plaid cladded room.
“Okay, El, head to your room and give Harrington some space; he’s taking up the couch tonight.”
At the sound of his name, Steve turned back to the two in front of him. Seeing the two now looking at him rather than fighting over watching cartoons in the middle of the night.
To his surprise, El got up without a word, presumably to head to her room like Hopper instructed. But instead, she disappeared into her room for just a moment before she reemerged with a soft yellow and blue blanket. She stopped her path right in front of Steve, her eyes searching his face, but he was not sure for what.
“You can use this tonight.” She says softly after she must have found whatever she’s looking for while searching his face. She holds out the blanket towards Steve for the taking.
Steve isn’t sure why his eyes are getting all watery.
“Thanks supergirl.” He replies just as softly as El, taking the blanket from her.
She beams at his nickname for her. She pats his hands once, and then disappears into what Steve assumes must be her room.
Hopper clears his throat, making his presence known to Steve before he makes his way over to him, “Alright, kid, you can sleep, watch cartoons, I don’t care what you do. But just relax, okay?” Hopper says as he takes his own jacket, that Steve didn’t realize he was still wrapped in it, off his shoulders.
Steve blinks a few times, trying to clear the mist from his eyes, but makes no move to the offered couch.
Hopper scoffs, “Come on, kid.” He gently takes Steve by the shoulders and guides him to sit on the couch. “And no more of that I’m fine bullshit, I want- we want you here, okay? You’re not a burden.”
The words make Steve snap his head up at Hopper, but the man won’t meet his eyes.
Hopper rests his hand on top of Steve’s head and ruffles his hair, being mindful of his stitches on his temple.
Steve doesn’t know if the softness of the older man's actions makes him want to vomit or cry.
“Just relax, kid,” Hopper whispers as he removes his hand, making Steve mourn the touch, and slips into his room for the night.
He sits there holding El’s blanket in front of the TV, unsure what to do with himself, suddenly alone.
Before he can go back to spiraling in his own pity, Steve hears a door creak open on his right. When he looks over, he sees El’s head peeking at him from behind the door. She must be looking to see if Hopper is now gone, because when she sees it’s just him, she pads out of her room to stand in front of Steve again.
She doesn’t say anything to him this time, just gently raises her hand to hold his chin. She begins to turn his head slightly, taking in all the injuries on his face, “You should see the other guy.” He tries to joke as he leans into the touch slightly, but she just levels him with an unamused look.
El gently pries the blanket out of Steve’s grasp and moves to sit next to him on the couch. It takes her a few moments to make herself comfortable against Steve, but eventually she folds herself up against him and spreads the blanket out over the two of them. Once she seems happy with the setup she’s created, she rests her head against Steve’s shoulder.
Steve’s eyes begin to well up again, but this time he doesn’t try to fight it as one stray tear runs down his cheek. El just pats his arm as if she knows of his crying, even though her eyes are glued forward at the cartoon on the screen in front of them.
Hopper’s going to be pissed in the morning when he learns that El snuck out of her room in the morning, but Steve’s okay with being at the end of Hopper’s fury if he means he can have this just for one night. So instead of telling El he’s fine, he just resets his head on top of hers and lets his eyes grow heavy.