Wayne first saw Steve Harrington when he was on a class field trip to the plant. He couldn’t have been older than 9. Eddie hadn’t come to live with him yet.
He only saw him for a minute, but it only took a minute to see that the boy had dark circles under his eyes that rivaled his own.
It took him a while to forget about the exhausted child in front of him and how much he reminded him of his nephew.
*****
He attended one of the Hawkins High basketball games during Eddie’s first senior year, took the night off for it, even. Eddie was never one for sports, so the fact he agreed to play with his band during their halftime was something Wayne couldn’t pass up watching. It had to have meant something to his boy for him to even mention it, so he played the part of proud parent and sat through the first half of the game.
But when he saw Steve Harrington out there, he couldn’t help but check for those dark circles or the same exhausted slump he saw in a child much too young to show physical signs of exhaustion.
He appeared to be fine, though Wayne couldn’t help but notice how he kept searching the stands for something or someone during every pause in the game.
Wayne had a gut feeling he knew who he was searching for, and an even stronger one that he wouldn’t find them.
After the game and the show, Wayne helped Eddie pack his guitar and amp into the back of the van.
“Hey, you ever talk to that Harrington boy?”
Eddie’s face was answer enough.
*****
To know Eddie was alive wasn’t enough for Wayne, he needed to watch him breathing, watch his fingers twitch while he slept. He needed to know that Eddie was real, was safe, was right in front of him.
But apparently Steve Harrington needed the same reassurances.
Steve had been by Eddie’s side since they let visitors into the room. As far as Wayne knew, he’d only left once for an hour to visit that Max girl’s room.
He was hesitant to say anything beyond kind greetings and goodbyes when he had to head to work. Steve looked one second away from breaking down.
He held Eddie’s hand like it was a lifeline, and maybe it was for him. Whatever they’d been through was serious, proof of that being the injuries they both were dealing with and the fact that Eddie hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
As much as Wayne wanted explanations, he wanted Steve to find comfort in being with Eddie more.
The dark circles under his eyes remained.
Wayne watched the way Steve would stare at Eddie, wordlessly begging him to open his eyes, and wondered what had changed between them. Was it just the trauma of the situation or something else?
He’d known Eddie liked boys for years; hard to hide when you get caught sneaking out of the house to go to a “special” bar in Indianapolis on a school night. He hugged him, told him he loved him no matter what, and offered to drive him out there himself the next weekend he had off if he promised to not go alone on a school night.
But Steve didn’t seem the type. Wayne had learned how to spot them, mostly so he could protect Eddie, and Steve had never seemed like he’d strayed or even thought about straying from girls.
He shouldn’t assume, though.
He knew how Richard Harrington was.
So he sat silently, guarding the two boys who needed it most.
On the sixth day, Wayne asked a nurse if Steve had left the hospital at all.
“No. Poor boy’s been glued to his side. The doctor had to stitch him up in the room because he wouldn’t leave.”
“Stitch him up?”
“Oh, yes! He had a large wound on his side and his chest had a few areas that needed stitches. He wouldn’t let anyone bandage his neck, but they prescribed him penicillin to try to prevent infection.”
Wayne shook his head. So Steve was a self-sacrificing idiot. Time to address that.
“Thanks, Janet. I owe ya a coffee for takin’ such good care of Eddie.”
Janet blushed. “Stop it! I’m just doing my job.”
Wayne smiled at her before making his way into Eddie’s room.
As usual, Steve was in a chair by his bed, hand in hand with Eddie.
The unusual part was that Steve was fast asleep, head nestled against Eddie’s leg.
It couldn’t be comfortable, but going off of how Steve had looked the day before, he was probably too tired to care about comfort.
Wayne looked at the scene in front of him.
Something else was different, too.
Eddie’d moved.
Only someone who’s been in this room for hours on end every day would have noticed it. Eddie’s head was turned towards Steve, and his other hand had found it’s way to Steve’s hair.
Oh.
So it was like that.
Wayne let out a shaky breath, too many emotions trying to escape at once. His boy had woken up, and had found comfort in someone who hadn’t left his side for almost a week. He couldn’t ask for more.
He slowly made his way out of the room, catching Janet just as she was passing to check on another patient.
“Did Eddie wake up?”
Janet’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, Steve hasn’t come to get us. Why? Is everything alright?”
Wayne nodded. “Everything’s fine.”
She smiled at him and continued on her way.
Wayne smiled to himself as he made his way down to the cafeteria to get Steve some food.
It looked like Steve Harrington was finally getting some rest.
He knows, he obviously knows that Eddie’s been taking his clothes.
It’s like a routine at this point. They’ll be hanging around Steve’s pool or up on his roof getting high, Eddie will say he’s cold no matter what he’s wearing or how warm it is. And if Steve’s not wearing a jacket to give him, Eddie will go ruffle through Steve’s closet and at the end of the night, he always “forgets” to give it back before he leaves.
Steve’s not sure if Eddie’s just doing it to fuck with him or if it’s an actual reason. Like Eddie doesn’t have clothes, or his washer is broken and he can’t afford to fix it, or he doesn’t have money for the laundromat or something serious that Steve does not want to be insensitive about, but he’s seriously running out of clothes.
For fuck’s sake, he’s wearing his Christmas sweater from two years ago, he literally had nothing else in his closet.
He’s starting to think that’s the endgame here, that Eddie’s just waiting until Steve shows up bare ass naked so he can laugh in his face.
Finally, Steve decides to get some answers while they’re hanging out in Eddie’s room, wearing his too-small Christmas sweater that Eddie’s already teased him about.
“Eddie, is… is everything like… okay?”
Steve asks carefully, picking at threads on Eddie’s comforter.
Eddie’s fingers pause on his guitar strings, joint hanging out of his mouth as he gives Steve a curious look.
“You mean just in general or…? Because I’m far from what someone like yourself would consider “okay” but that’s normal for me.”
Steve looks around the room, noting the usual piles of Eddie’s clothes, recognizing a lot of his own. Doesn’t seem like Eddie’s in any shortage of things to wear, and his laundry always piles up. Nothing looks out of sorts, maybe he just hasn’t felt like doing it lately, and Steve doesn’t want to be insensitive if that’s the case either.
He minds his words, “I mean like, are things okay for you? Like around the house, your refrigerator’s working, your washing machine isn’t broken or anything?”
Eddie smirks, “What if they’re not? Is Handyman Harrington gonna put on his little toolbelt and fix it all up?” He always makes light when he senses something uneasy coming.
“Real funny. I’m serious, Eddie. Is there a reason you haven’t done laundry? If you’re not feeling up to it or something, I don’t mind helping.”
Eddie sobers a little then, putting his guitar down and dabbing out the joint in the ashtray on the bedside table, “Yes my washing machine works. Yes I can do my laundry, I’m just lazy as shit and letting it pile up. What’s this about, Steve?”
“Because you—” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it, flustered, “I’m literally wearing my Christmas sweater in goddamn October because you have all my clothes, dude.”
Something registers in Eddie’s gaze but he quickly deflects, laughing, “Oh is that why? I thought you just pulled out that little number ‘cause it's skin tight, you minx.”
“Is everything okay?” Steve doesn’t let him change the subject, offering gently, “If you need to borrow some money or use my washer or something then—”
“No, no that’s not it,” Eddie shakes his head, smile gone, seeming kind of nervous now, “I don’t need anything like that, Stevie.”
Steve sighs, at a loss, “So why do you keep taking my clothes, Eddie?”
Eddie lets out a small laugh, almost sad, a little bitter, “You’re really gonna make me say it, Harrington?”
“Say what? You can tell me,” Steve scoots closer to him on the bed. He tries to meet Eddie’s gaze, to make sure he knows he can tell Steve. Fuck, they saved the world together, they almost died together, he knows he can tell Steve anything.
So it sort of hurts when Eddie won’t look at him, or answer him, but Steve tries to be understanding.
“Okay,” he sighs, resigned, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m just gonna need some of them back if that’s alright—”
“God, you really are something,” Eddie gives that same bitter laugh. It hurts, mostly because Steve knows there’s something deeper here, something’s hurting Eddie and he won’t tell Steve. “Of course, it’s alright. They’re your clothes, it’s not even… Fuck, it’s not even about the clothes.”
“So you were just fucking with me then?”
Eddie shakes his head, hands tugging his own hair, the way he does when he’s anxious, “No, it wasn’t a prank Steve.”
“You’re trying out a different style?”
“Definitely not.”
“Dustin dared you, or something?”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“So then why did you do it? I don’t—”
“Shit, Steve, I’m— I took them because they smell like you, alright?”
Steve’s mouth opens and closes several times.
“I… You… What?”
Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, sighing sharply down at the bed, “Don’t make me say it again.”
Steve blinks, asking slowly, “You… like the way that I smell?”
Eddie finally looks up at him, a heavy cloud behind his dark eyes as he admits, “Yes I do and not in a friend sort of way. In a way that I’m literally stealing all your clothes like a fucking weirdo just to feel like I’m hugging you at night, or something— I dunno, Steve. It helps with the nightmares.”
Steve’s heart is sort of doing flips in his chest.
That’s another reason why he waited so long to say anything. He doesn’t mind Eddie taking some of his clothes. He likes the idea of Eddie wearing everything that’s his, and not just as a friend helping out another friend. In a deeper way, in a way that he’s been suppressing because he didn’t want to ruin things with Eddie.
“That could still be a friend thing,” Steve says carefully, hoping that Eddie disagrees.
“It’s not a friend thing,” Eddie shakes his head, starting to move away from the bed and Steve’s stomach drops, “I don’t have ‘friend’ feelings for you, Steve. So I get it if you wanna walk out that door and never talk to me again. I’ll give all your clothes back, I shouldn’t have—”
Steve’s hand shoots out to Eddie’s knee, stopping him, rushing to say, “I don’t like you as a friend either.”
Eddie quickly looks up, expression careful, confused, “You— huh?”
“Fuck, that came out wrong, I just…” Steve sighs, bolsters himself up and rubs Eddie’s knee softly but with intent as he asks, “Eddie, can I hug you in a not-friend way?”
Eddie’s eyes flick up and down between Steve’s hand and his face about ten different times, gaze utterly wild, “Are you saying you have feelings for—”
“Just get over here and find out.”
Eddie’s grin mirrors Steve’s as he crawls across the bed. He’s tentative still, careful, so Steve just goes in, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Eddie goes willingly, sliding his palms across Steve’s stupid Christmas sweater, his nose at Steve’s collar, breathing in deep.
Steve chuckles as Eddie burrows in, mumbling something about how good he smells.
Steve loves the way Eddie smells too, nuzzling into his hair, breathing in a hint of shampoo, smoke and something earthy, something Eddie. Steve loves the way he feels too, wants him impossibly closer.
“So why did you need so many of my clothes?” He asks softly after a while.
Eddie doesn’t lift his head when he replies, “Works best when the Steve smell is still strong. Had to get more when I sniffed it all up.”
Steve rolls his eyes, something like fondness tugging at his lips.
“You said it helps with nightmares?”
Eddie nods against him, admitting quietly, “On nights when my uncle works, it gets kinda creepy being alone here. Just having something that smells like you makes it feel like— I dunno, like you’re here with me. It’s weird.”
“It’s not. I wish I would’ve thought of that when my nightmares were bad,” instead of just not sleeping, or calling Robin all hours of the night. “Your uncle works tonight, right?”
“Yeah, he… yeah.”
Steve feels like he should be more nervous than he is, but Eddie hasn’t let up since the second Steve pulled him in, so he feels like he’s on the right track here.
“What if I stayed over? I have a feeling you’ll like hugging my sweater even more when I’m inside it.”
That makes Eddie burrow further into his neck, pressing a smile there.
“Already trying to get into my bed, Harrington? Should wait until at least the third hug for that,” playfully, Steve gives his side a little pinch, both of them chuckling, “Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.”
Satisfied with that answer, Steve takes a risk, carefully wraps his hand around the back of Eddie’s legs, tugging a little to pull Eddie into his lap. Thankfully, Eddie wants it too. He sits atop Steve’s thighs and just melts into him, both of them sighing against each other.
Steve rubs broad circles across Eddie’s back, soothing the fabric of his yellow sweater that seems to be Eddie’s favorite to steal. He smiles into Eddie’s hair, feeling so warm and buzzing pleasantly all over.
It could’ve been hours gone by, Steve basking in Eddie’s body heat, in the weight of him, condensation forming against his neck where Eddie’s breathing him in. He pulls back a little, studies the blissed out look on Eddie’s face.
He blinks slowly at Steve, “Hey.”
Steve shakes his head, chuckling softly, “Hey, dummy.”
“Dummy?” Eddie parrots, grinning.
“Yeah. You’d rather steal my entire wardrobe than just give me a hug?” Steve squeezes him a little, “What if you wanted to kiss me, hm? Would you steal my chapstick?”
He lets his eyes linger on Eddie’s lips, hoping he gets the hint, takes the subtle offer.
Eddie’s finger toys with his collar, brushing the bone there as he murmurs back, “If you’d just kiss me I wouldn’t have to steal your chapstick to know how you taste.”
Steve tips his head back with a soft laugh before cupping Eddie’s face, “God, c’mere, you idiot,” then leans in and presses their smiling lips together.
It’s sweet at first, just gently pecking each other. Then the kisses last longer, grow deeper, tasting each other. Steve’s mouth falls open in a sigh, letting Eddie lick inside, sucking lightly on his lip.
Kissing Eddie is everything, a deep warmth simmering in Steve’s bones that he can’t get enough of. He wants it all over him, wants to clothe himself in it, burrow inside Eddie and never come out.
He leans back against the pillows, taking Eddie with him in his lap. The movement makes them rub together in a way that has Steve humming against Eddie’s lips, gripping his hips as a new kind of pleasure lights inside him.
Eddie pulls back then, laughing breathlessly.
“Okay,” he nuzzles their noses together, grinning as he mumbles, “We gotta relax or I’m gonna have to steal another pair of your underwear too.”
Steve playfully rolls his eyes as he moves his hands elsewhere, wrapping them around Eddie’s back.
Then, a beat later, it clicks and his brows furrow.
“Wait, what do you mean another pair, Munson?”
Eddie laughs and quickly dives back in for another kiss, silencing any more questions from Steve.
What about a Soulmate AU where Robin and Steve are platonic soulmates but being a platonic pair is so rare that it makes almost impossible for the two of them to date?
They try it all, from being honest at the very first date (which makes their dates run away at the first given chance), to hide their soulmarks as long as they can (which results in them looking like they’re cheating on their soulmate).
Steve loves Robin -platonically- with every fiber of his being, but he admits he has cursed her name once or twice. He’s sure she’s done worse with his.
Eddie, Steve and Robin’s friend and roommate, seems to find it hilarious. He’s on the edge of his seat every time one of them comes back from a date and tries to guess what happened.
“Did they throw you their drinks? Started screaming? Run away?” He would start with rapid fire questions and, based on Steve and Robin’s faces, guess more specific details.
Robin hates it. Steve loves to play along.
It takes Steve a while to realize that he keeps going on dates just to go home and tell Eddie all about it.
Robin has given up months ago, after a girl made a big scene in the restaurant they were dining at. It had left a pretty bad scar on her, so much that she had declared, holding back the tears, that she would stop dating forever.
Steve, although sympathetic of Robin’s situation, kept going on the same dating routine. Only that, once he got home, he had Robin and Eddie waiting for him.
Steve was telling them about his latest adventure when Robin had stopped him and asked “why are you still going on with this? I don’t understand”.
Steve is thrown off by the question. Robin knows why he does this, they've talked about it a million times: they both know the chances to find someone long-term are slim -they would need someone who has lost their soulmate or can't be with them for whatever reason- so he's settling for someone who hasn't find their soulmate yet, someone who's okay with dating until they find their true pair.
Yes, quite depressing if you think about it, but Steve made peace with it a long time ago.
"What do you mean?" he asks Robin, tilting his head.
"I mean that you're not even looking for someone anymore!" she turns around looking for support from Eddie but realizes she's the only one who figured it out "you go out just to come home and tell us all about it, you don't even care about your dates."
Steve wants to deny it, but he can’t. His gaze lays upon Eddie for a split second, then he looks away.
“I don’t know, I guess it has become an habit” he dismisses it and thankfully Robin, like a good soulmate, changes the topic quickly.
It doesn’t take as long to realize why Steve keeps dating even tho he doesn’t care about his dates. The best part of all of his disastrous love adventures had always been coming home to Eddie and laugh about it together.
Steve thinks about Eddie’s soulmark, hidden under a bunch of leather bracelets in his left wrist. He thinks about the person who’s destined to be at his side, a person that clearly isn’t Steve. What are the chances of Eddie getting a platonic one? Close to none.
Steve can’t bare the thought of being with Eddie, assuming he would want that to, until Eddie’s Person shows up.
He keeps dating, but now he takes it more seriously, as he needs to find someone that will prevent him from ruining his relationship with Eddie forever.
He still talks to Eddie about them but their chats are not as lighthearted as they used to. Eddie doesn’t try to guess anymore, he acts like he wants to find out the less possible and Steve gets the conversation over as soon as he can, before blurting anything similar as “i don’t care about them, please date me”.
One day, Steve finds a perfect match. He’s still incredulous as he’s telling Eddie all about her: she’s nice, pretty, good sense of humor, hasn’t found her soulmate yet and is on board with Steve having a platonic one.
Eddie looks absolutely crushed once Steve is done talking.
“Well, I guess the days of the disastrous dates are over uh, Harrington?” He jokes, looking away from Steve’s face.
“I don’t want to” the words escape Steve’s lips before he can think about it.
“What? she seems a catch, why would you keep going on dates?” Eddie’s eyes are wide open, surprised.
“Because then I get home, and I can tell you all about it. And you do your guessing game and you cheer when you’re right and you have an adorable pout when you’re wrong. And that’s my favorite part, coming back home to you.”
Eddie takes a step closer to him, looking hesitant “why are you saying all of this now?”
“Because this” Steve takes Eddie’s hand and puts it on his fast beating heart “is how I’ve been feeling for God knows how long. I didn’t say anything because I thought I couldn’t bare to let you go once your soulmate comes but- fuck I don’t know? I don’t care anymore. I’d rather try and have even just a second with you and be miserable later than nothing at all.”
“Holy shit, Harrington” is all Steve hears before Eddie’s lips are on his, making him short circuit.
Steve closes his eyes but he can feel Eddie’s touch everywhere, on his lips, in his hair, at the back of his head. He’s drunk on the sensation so it takes him a second to register Eddie pulling away and calling his name.
“You big idiot, look” Eddie is pointing at his wrist, the one with his soulmate mark. Eddie’s smile isn’t compatible with what he’s showing him right now that they have just kissed.
“I don’t know if I wanna look” Steve pouts, looking down at his feet.
Eddie gives him a quick peck “trust me, you want to.”
Steve, still unsure, slowly pushes down Eddie’s bracelet, only to find perfectly clean skin.
“I never had one. Remember I told you the used to call me freak? Yeah” Eddie tilts his head, a sad smile on his face.
“That is so…” Steve is at a loss for words.
“Freaky? Disgusting? An abomination?” Eddie tries to fill in.
“Lucky” Steve lands on. Eddie gives him an unconvinced look, so he plants a kiss on his wrist “lucky,” he repeat, firmly.
Eddie rolls his eyes “I guess it can be freaky and lucky at the same time.”
One day, when Steve and Eddie are still in the early stages of dating, both a little overwhelmed but sure of each other and excited to see where it’s going, Steve brings Eddie flowers when he comes to the trailer park for a date night. It’s the first-month anniversary of their first kiss, and he doesn’t say as much, because he’s pretty sure Eddie doesn’t care about those dates like he does - and it’s not like a one-month anniversary is some kind of great accomplishment anyway - but he wants to do something special and he decides flowers will make anyone happy, if only for the gesture. He gets a bouquet with bold, dark shades; purple and dark red and some greenery with sharp edges and thorns, to give it a little bit of Eddie: sweet, but still badass.
When Steve gets to the trailer, Eddie opens the door with a wide smile on his face - but it instantly disappears and gets replaced with a kind of shocked surprise when he sees what Steve is holding in his hands.
‘Got you flowers,’ Steve says, stating the obvious and leaning in to kiss Eddie’s lips. But Eddie is still frozen in the doorway - his mouth doesn’t even move when Steve presses his lips against Eddie’s.
Steve pulls back and squints at Eddie, trying to figure out what’s going on with him. ‘You alright there?’ he asks.
‘You got me flowers,’ is the only thing Eddie says; his voice is trembling and his eyes are still wide, fixed on the bouquet in Steve’s hands.
‘Should I… not have?’ Steve asks. His palms are getting sweaty against the stems of the flowers, but it doesn’t look like Eddie is gonna be moving to take them from him anytime soon. Panic starts to crawl its way up in his stomach as he wonders if he’s made some kind of huge mistake.
When Eddie's band makes it big, Steve couldn't be prouder. He is the most supportive boyfriend anyone could wish for, joining Eddie for as many concerts as possible. He's always in the first row, cheering Eddie on. However, he doesn't really fit in - it's not just his clothes or the perfect hair, but the fact he stays very still, just bouncing on his feet. He doesn't headbang or hop.
Eddie doesn't mind at all, he knows how to tell that Steve's enjoying himself. But there are fans who have their own idea what people should do at concerts and Steve doesn't fit it. When they play at a larger venue, Eddie overhears two metalheads in the first row shit talking Steve, complaining how he looks bored, how his head doesn't even move, why is he even there if he's afraid to mess up that fluffed up hair? He doesn't know if Steve can hear, but he isn't taking any chances. They haven't been exactly subtle at concerts or after them, so he acts without thinking too much, too hard.
Clearing his throat into the microphone, Eddie asks for everyone's attention. "Thank you for being such a wonderful crowd tonight. I want to extend one special thank you to the most special person to me." The rest of the Corroded Coffin guys laugh and Gareth smacks his face, but they're not malicious. They just watch, wide smiles on their faces. "Here in the first row is my boyfriend, Steve. Can't miss him, he's the prettiest guy around. Thank you for being here with me, even if you have to be sick of hearing the same songs every night."
The crowd laughs, Steve mouths never at him and Eddie continues.
"You see, Steve isn't really into metal. And that's fine, baby, you're so kind and handsome I could forgive you anything, even this lapse of judgment. But what I really want to stress out here is how lucky I am. I am so fucking lucky that I have a boyfriend who is supportive, who comes to watch me perform even if this isn't his crowd. He still lets the music move him, even if he can't do what we all do because his migraines are no joke and headbanging is a sure way to start them. But he's still here. And that's what matters to me the most. So from the bottom of this cynical, hardened heart - I'm so fucking thankful you're here, baby. Thank you."
It is mortifyng. It is like baring his soul in front of strangers. But seeing Steve's wide smile, seeing how people watch him with newfound respect, it's so worth it.
Eddie takes a deep breath and leans into the microphone. "And with that, the show must go on! Let's start the next song!"
"About damn time," says Jeff, grinning at him. "You two are making us all here jealous, man."
From that night on, Corroded Coffin has a mascot. Not an animal, not a drawn figure, but a handsome young man who always wears the same thing - a yellow sweater. He's like a beacon, always in front of the band, and when the fans chant "Steve! Steve! Steve!" and Steve blushes so hard his ears become red, Eddie knows this is only right. It's only right for Steve to be loved for who he is. And the more the merrier.
Steve refuses to tell the kids his middle name. He’s fights them off after El figures out that middle names are a thing and demands everyone to tell her if they have one. And usually when it comes to El, Steve gives in immediately. But he just knows this information will come back to bite him in the ass. So he refuses.
But then they go to Nancy trying to pry the information out of her, but she reveals that she has no idea what it is - ouch but what a relief. Next up is Robin who also reveals she has no idea, and then she joins in on trying to get it out of him.
With the girls on their side, Steve is slightly terrified, but still unwilling to give up the information. He thinks they’ll let it go… but then they’re showing up at his house suspiciously only for Steve to find out that they’re trying to find his birth certificate. That’s when Eddie gets roped into things.
And the thing about Eddie is that he’s curious of course. What could Steve’s middle name possibly be which is so horrendous he won’t even tell Robin? But he respects the man’s privacy. If he wants to keep it to himself then so be it… But Eddie wants to know.
So he starts developing his own plans - without telling the kids or the girls. He thinks getting Steve drunk or high off his ass is probably a bit too manipulative. But maybe he can gain the guy’s trust.
So he starts coming along, pretending like he’s going to help as the kids dig and dig for the information. Steve is always somehow there, even when the kids start looking through the records at the library because some of them needed a ride. But Eddie sticks with Steve, talking to him about anything other than his name - the kids are convinced that Eddie is doing a great job distracting Steve.
And maybe he is, but he slowly forgets any type of ulterior motives when he’s talking to Steve. It’s a blessing and a curse being in the presence of the man.
But then it happens. Steve casually invites Eddie to hang out sometime, and that’s exactly when Eddie will bring up the middle name thing.
When the day comes, Eddie finds himself thoroughly distracted by Steve’s thigh which is pressing against his while they watch a movie. And there’s a large space next to Steve on the couch, but he chose to sit where his is now. It’s a big deal really.
“I’m gonna grab a Coke, do you want anything?”
Eddie asks for a Coke as well, hoping it serves as something to ground him as he hangs out alone with Steve Something Harrington. That’s the moment he remembers the plan. Shit, he’s supposed to be asking him stuff that casually leads to the reveal of his middle name. Easy.
No it isn’t. How the hell is he going to… Eddie glances at the coffee table in front of them to find… Steve’s wallet. Steve’s wallet containing his driver’s license. Steve’s wallet containing his driver’s license containing his full government name.
Oh this is good. This is really good. How have the kids not managed to think of this yet?
Eddie quickly snatches the wallet, opening it to find the driver’s license in a clear pocket. Okay, time to finally learn what’s been gnawing at his brain for days now, and then he’ll never have to tell Steve about it. Ever.
He squints his eyes and reads the name. Then he rereads it. Then he rereads it again.
Steven Edward Harrington
“Edward?!” Eddie yells, cringing at the fact he’s saying his government name.
Steve races into the room, two Cokes in hand and eyes wide as can be. Eddie doesn’t even have time to hide the wallet or any evidence of what he’s been doing. Well. Shit.
“Of course you were on their side,” Steve sighs, a look of betrayal crosses his face. Eddie’s gut twists.
“No, no. Okay, I’ll admit that I was curious, but I was going to find out and just put that secret away in my brain forever. But is my name really so bad?”
Steve turns a bit red as he admits, “I wasn’t hiding it for that reason.”
“Then what are you hiding it for?”
“Because… because…” He sets the two soda cans down with a thud before blurting out, “I thought you’d be making a bigger deal out of it! I thought the kids would make jokes about me having your name. Or you would tell me something along the lines of ‘You already have my middle name, why not take me last name?’ And I was not prepared to deal with that!” Steve rushes out, a hand runs through his hair before he settles his hands on his hips.
That… definitely wasn’t what Eddie was expecting but he can’t help but flirt, “You’re putting words in my mouth, sweetheart, but I can say them if you’d like.”
Steve sighs and points at him. “Exactly that! It just makes me get feel so…”
Eddie tenses up and quietly questions, “Disgusted?”
“Flustered!” Steve replies instantly.
It takes him a moment to process, but then Eddie is standing up and making his way over to Steve with a smile. “I make Steven Edward Harrington flustered?”
Steve rolls his eyes but the small smile and blush rising to his cheeks give him away. “I’m going to change my name,” Steve states.
“And take my last name?” Eddie teases, and Steve lightly shoves at him.
“Buy me dinner first, Edward.”
“How about a kiss first?” Eddie asks with an obnoxiously large grin. It’s immediately wiped when Steve leans in, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut.
“I’m not that easy,” Steve whispers so close that his lips brush against Eddie’s before he pulls away. “Come on, let’s finish the movie.”
When Eddie’s feet are able to move again, he finds himself sitting even closer to Steve than before, but this time Steve’s hand curling around his is the most distracting thing besides the thought that Steven Edward Munson has a nice ring to it.
Warnings: Childbirth (In case that’s not your thing)
MASTERLIST
Big thank you to @keeryswiftie for talking through the medical aspects of this and helping me, quite literally birth the idea for this fic. You’re the best. ❤️
Steve Harrington had loved kids for as long as he could remember.
Apparently, it had started when he was a toddler. He had always seemed to be drawn to the younger siblings of friends—comforting them and entertaining them. He had no memory of this, but he did remember a fateful fall season when he met a group of rowdy preteens that ended up changing his life for the better.
After meeting Dustin Henderson, it was a natural progression of meeting his other friends after he was constantly put in the position of having to watch the younger kids. Only 18 at the time, he was supposed to be the responsible adult of the group. There was also an entire few years dealing with fighting monsters from another dimension, but that was a story for another time.
At the time, Steve had pretty much been an asshole. He was rebelling against parents who paid little attention to him and were hardly around—doing things that he’d hoped make them care—but probably in the worst of ways. It took him a long time to realize he deserved better than the way they treated him. A lot of that realization came from finding friends that loved him like family. Though he had no siblings of his own, the group of six kids filled that lonely space. Part of the time they felt like younger siblings, the other part they felt like his own kids. It was in those early years that he just knew he wanted to have a big family of his own one day.
In the meantime, Steve had done something he’d never thought he’d do—he’d applied to nursing school.
At the beginning of his education, he didn’t know what exactly he wanted to do, but he knew he wanted to work with kids.
That’s how he’d ended up here, in the Labor and Delivery wing at Hawkins hospital, back in his hometown.
His days—and sometimes nights—were filled with beeping monitors, baby cries and strong mothers. Even though childbirth had to be one of the hardest things in life, he couldn’t help but love his work. He was constantly in awe of the brand new little lives and how tough these women were, going through so much to bring their baby into the world.
Most of his work involved assisting OBGYN’s, keeping check on both mother and baby’s vitals, administering medicine and doing vaginal checks, but a lot of what he and the fellow nurses in the department did tended to fall on the emotional side of things. He’d found being calm, patient and attentive to the birthing mother helped things so much, especially in a crisis.
Apparently, he was so good at his job that he’d become somewhat famous with the mothers—which his coworkers liked to tease him about. Some had even requested him as a nurse after hearing about him from a friend’s or family member’s experience.
He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d received sweet notes and gifts of thanks from past patients, something that always made him smile. It flattered him to know that he’d made such an impression on them, enough that they’d think of him afterwards. After all, it was his mindset that the mother should have a positive birthing experience with as much support as possible—which extended past the husband or father and to the nursing staff as well, in his opinion.
They always said it takes a village to raise a child. In a way, it takes one to birth one as well. He always made sure that the mothers he aided would have as much support as they needed.
While it was nice to be appreciated, his favorite part of the job had to be the post birth tasks where he got to hold the baby. Obviously it included cleaning the baby, weighing it, swaddling it and other things, but he was always mesmerized by the tiny life in his arms, one he’d watched coming into the world. He’d been at this job for two years now and it had yet to get old.
Usually, it was the babies that he remembered the most, over the mothers, as they all tended to blur together after awhile.
But one day, one mother stood out starkly to him, one that ended up changing his life.
•
“Okay Y/N, you’ve made it this far. You can do this. It’s going to be hard, but you’re in the final stretch. Soon it will be over.”
Soon it will be over.
Your head fell back against the pillow as you looked around the bleak, empty hospital room with no one else in it.
The pep talk you were previously trying to give yourself wasn’t doing much to calm your apprehension. Things were starting to feel real and you didn’t have the time nor the strength to process all the emotions you were currently feeling.
“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, “You’ve made it this far all alone, you can do this too.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something?”
Your eyes popped open, embarrassed that you were overheard talking to yourself. You hadn’t heard anyone enter the room.
The nurse that had approached your bedside was different from the middle aged woman who’d performed a vaginal check on you just an hour earlier.
This one was young, male and attractive.
His brown hair was on the longer side, curling outwards at the ends. His gaze cast downward as he looked through what you assumed to be your medical chart.
“No, sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” you said feebly, still feeling a bit embarrassed, “You’re not the same nurse that was in here just an hour ago to check on me.”
“Night shift,” he explained.
“Oh I’m sorry, got caught up looking through your file,” the nurse apologized, setting the clipboard back on the end of hospital bed where it usually hung, “I’m Steve, I’ll be your nurse for the night.”
He went about checking the machines that’s been monitoring your contractions, your heart beat and the baby’s before checking up on your IV.
“Last shift said you’re only a few centimeters dilated,” Steve said, finally looking back down at you.
“Unfortunately. It feels like I’ve been in here for days already.”
He smiled gently.
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it? I know it sometimes takes a while, but I promise it will all be worth it.”
He pats your arm gently and you notice he has warm and kind brown eyes. His face and what’s displayed of his neck is dotted with numerous moles and freckles, giving him an even more unique appearance. It makes him even more good looking, in your opinion.
A pair of glasses are folded and resting on the neckline of his scrubs; you figured they’re reading glasses. His ID is clipped to the bottom of the scrub shirt, a small picture of him smiling on it along with the name Steve Harrington.
His gaze swept around the room before returning to your face, a questioning look in his eyes.
“Has your husband—or boyfriend—stepped out?” he catches himself, knowing not every mother he’s encountered has been married, not wanting to offend his patient within the first few minutes of meeting her.
Trying to control the feeling of humiliation you’re feeling deep inside, you attempt to keep any sign of it off your face as the lie slips off your tongue as easy as butter.
“Yes, he went to find something to eat.”
Steve nodded, doing one last check on yours and baby’s vitals.
“Well Miss Y/L/N-”
“Y/N, please,” you corrected him.
He smiled, correcting himself.
“Y/N.”
He has a kind smile, one that makes you feel incrementally better about being in a situation like this. You find yourself giving him a small smile back.
“If you need anything, just call me,” he motioned to the call button for the nurse, before continuing, “I only have one other patient today and by the sounds of it, she’s going to be delivering soon, so I’ll be back to check up on you in a little while.
You nodded your understanding, watching him exit back out into the hallway.
Turning on your side, you stare at the window that provides a view of the sunset. According to the clock, it’s just after 7 pm. You’ve been here since early afternoon.
Another wave of pain nears, squeezing your abdomen and causing your belly to harden as another contraction hits you. So far, they aren’t horrible and feel just a tad worse than the awful menstrual cramps you’ve dealt with for years.
Closing your eyes, you try to distance your mind from the pain, as to not think of it.
The sounds of the other mother from down the hall fill your ears and you attempt to block that out too. The poor woman sounds like she’s birthing a giraffe, not a baby. Squeezing your eyes shut, tears escape your closed eyes and fall down your cheeks.
Never in your entire life have you felt so scared or so utterly alone.
•
Apparently, you’d managed to doze off at some point because you jerked awake to a rustling noise in your room.
The moans of the birthing mother have completely vanished and all you hear beyond your room are the typical sounds of a hospital—busy nurses, chatter and beeping machines.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Steve apologized, “How are you feeling?”
“Apparently good enough to fall asleep,” you attempt to joke, causing him to laugh.
“Well according to last shift you were still in early stages of labor, but it should be picking up soon. You were 2 centimeters when you were last checked so it’s about time to see if you’ve progressed any further.”
Just then, a blonde, female nurse walked in, introducing herself as Kelly. She stood towards the back wall and gave a friendly nod to Steve.
“Don’t worry, just protocol to have a “chaperone” if you will, for any male nurses doing pelvic exams,” Steve explained.
You must’ve shown wariness because he immediately jumped back in, rambling.
“If you’re not comfortable with me performing the exam, then I can definitely have Kelly do it,” he offered.
You waved him off, shaking your head. You already felt so weary and you were hardly halfway through labor.
After a few uncomfortable minutes, the quick exam was over and Kelly had left to return to her own patients.
“Looks like you’re just about four centimeters. How are the contractions feeling?” Steve asked.
“Painful, but nothing I can’t handle,” you answered truthfully.
“Well when you’re ready for an epidural—that is if you choose to get one—just let me know and we can get the anesthesiologist in here. Do you need anything? Some ice chips maybe?”
“Ice chips, please? If it’s not too much trouble.”
Truthfully, you didn’t really care for any, but craved the company instead.
“You got it,” he grinned, “Be back shortly.”
It was hardly five minutes when he came back in with the styrofoam cup of ice chips and a plastic spoon.
“Thank you,” you said, truly grateful as you reached for the cup.
You noticed him glance at his watch, then up at the clock on the wall in the room.
“Somewhere you need to be?” you partially joked.
“No. Just wondering how long the fast food lines must be.”
You had a feeling where this was going and knew you couldn’t avoid the truth much longer. It’d been nearly two hours since he’d last checked on you and you knew your lie was about to be exposed.
You preoccupied yourself by putting a small chunk of ice in your mouth, realizing your mouth was drier than you’d thought—the cool liquid of the ice tasted amazing.
His question was quiet and somber, but you heard it well.
“The father’s not coming, is he?”
You shook your head, refusing to meet his eyes.
You looked up when you felt the stiff mattress shift just a bit and noticed he’d sat down at the end of the bed. He was looking at you remorsefully and you couldn’t stand it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Steve didn’t sound angry, nor did he sound judgmental, merely curious.
You shrugged.
“I was embarrassed and I didn’t want you to pity me.”
“Pity you?”
Now he looked surprised and you found yourself surprised in return, by his reaction.
“I think you’re extremely brave. Besides, I’ve seen plenty of mothers not have the father with them. Granted they usually had a parent or friend…” he trailed off as he seemed to realize, “Do you need me to call your parents to let them know you’re in labor?”
You began to answer when a much stronger contraction than any you’d experienced so far, began.
“Shit,” you moaned, one hand clutching your stomach.
Steve was off the bed in an instant, grabbing the cup out of your hands to set aside. He instinctually put his hand in yours.
“Go ahead and squeeze my hand if you need to. Just breathe. Like this.”
He began rhythmically breathing in and out, similar to what you remembered the instructor teaching at the few Lamaze classes you’d attended. You’d never finished the class though after seeing the numerous amount of couples there, women with husbands, boyfriends or family members to support them—the complete opposite of your situation.
You mimicked the pattern, squeezing his hand as you got through to the other side of the contraction. Not once did he wince or make any sort of expression as you probably crushed the life out of his hand; he was merely focused on your well being.
When the pain subsided, you let out a shaky breath.
“Has it passed?”
You nodded, not letting go of his hand.
“That was the worst one yet,” you groaned.
“I hate to tell you but they’ll likely get worse from here on out. But it just means it’s getting closer to having your baby,” he smiled, “Speaking of, should I call someone? Your contraction seemed to cut off your answer earlier,” he chuckled.
“No. My parents died in a car crash when I was in college…it’s—” you paused, refusing to let your voice wobble and let on just how afraid you were feeling, “It’s just me.”
Steve was surprised, though he kept his face neutral. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed or ashamed.
He’d seen many unique situations when it came to the patients he’d had, but this was a first.
His heart ached for her. She looked to be his age. Still, she was going through one of the toughest things in life, without the baby’s father, her own mother or even a friend to help her through this.
It was then he that he made the decision to stay with her, no matter how long it took.
•
Only an hour had passed and the contractions seemed to ebb and flow throughout your torso and a detached part of you was humiliated at how you whimpered, groaned and panted through it all.
Unfortunately, after another dilation check, you’d only inched a centimeter up, putting your progress at five centimeters. There was no telling how much longer it would be.
“You’re doing great, Y/N,” Steve soothed, placing the cool cloth he’d fetched earlier for you against your forehead, newly cool and damp.
“This fucking sucks,” you panted, eyes squeezing shut.
“It does,” he agreed, “But you’re making it through.”
You cried out at another contraction, gripping the railing of the bed.
“Breathe, breathe. Just focus on the sound of my voice, okay? In and out. That’s it, Y/N. It’ll be over in a moment, I promise. You’re doing amazing, keep breathing.”
Normally, one would think that hearing coaxing like Steve’s in the midst of pain would drive any laboring woman insane, but his voice was soft, soothing and melodic—a direct opposition to the sharp, harsh edges of pain from your contractions.
Maybe it was because he was the only support you had, the only lifeline, if you will, but his encouragement helped you make it through each and every contraction.
That being said though, you’d made up your mind.
“Steve?” you breathed, when the contraction finally eased.
“Yes?”
“I think I want that epidural now.”
•
“You’re going to have to sit very still for me, can you do that?” Steve murmured, facing you.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed, the anesthesiologist at your back, setting up the things she’d need to administer the epidural. You didn’t care about the needles, the insertion or any of the other things that had scared you months ago, you just wanted—no, needed—relief from this pain.
“Yes,” you said firmly.
“Just hold on to me, okay? Lean forward, back out and your shoulders slumped forward.”
You did what Steve told you, leaning forward into him, your hands clinging to his arms. His touch was gentle as he held you close to him and you tried your best to stay still.
It seemed to take an eternity, but you felt the gentle squeeze of Steve’s hands on your arms, letting you know he was still here with you. Finally, the insertion was complete and you were allowed to lay back in bed.
Glancing at the clock, you noticed it was nearing midnight, already well past 11:30 pm.
“I’ve kept you way too long, I’m so sorry,” you said, apologetically.
“It’s okay. Since my other patient delivered hours ago, you’re my only patient tonight.”
“So I won’t get you in trouble?”
He pulled up the chair that had remained glaringly empty and sat down at your bedside, shaking his head.
“It’s a slow night. Besides, I’m helping a patient,” he grinned.
You closed your eyes, just to rest as you began to feel the sharpness of the pain dull just a bit. You were glad to eventually feel numbness seeping its way through your lower body, the relief glorious.
Silence hung in the room between you two, yet you didn’t have the energy to try and make small talk. Besides, Steve’s company was welcomed, whether you spoke or not. Something told you he didn’t mind the silence either.
It was actually Steve who broke the silence. You might’ve actually slipped to sleep for a bit too as you didn’t quite hear what he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said apologetically, looking genuinely sorry.
“It’s okay. Just resting my eyes,” you answered, rubbing your fingers over your eyes.
“If you’d like to sleep, I can come back.”
“No, no,” you shook your head, probably a little too fiercely.
You didn’t want him to go.
“I mean, I’m awake now. What was it you said?”
“Well, I said if you didn’t mind me asking, are you having a boy or girl?”
“Oh,” your face flushed, “I um…I actually don’t know.”
You sat up as best as you could, Steve helping you to reposition. You thanked him as he sat back in the chair at your bedside.
“You wanted it to be a surprise?” he asked.
“I guess you could say that,” you chuckled dryly, though there was no humor in it, “I kinda was detached from the whole pregnancy, so I didn’t want to find out. It was like if I didn’t find out what I was having, it wouldn’t be real.”
Steve watched you intently, no judgement on his face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking and it quite unnerved you.
“That probably sounds horrible, I know.”
“No, it doesn’t. People cope with things differently,” Steve answered neutrally.
For some reason, though he hadn’t even asked, you found the need to explain to him. You didn’t want to sound like a horrible person, especially not to Steve.
“The baby’s father…we dated for a short while. Well, if you can even call it that. It was mainly physical and I’m sure I was more invested in the relationship than he was. I thought I was in love,” you laughed wryly, “How cliché is that?”
Steve listened patiently, although you can tell he’s just waiting for you to continue the story in your own time. You appreciated him for that.
“Well of course, when I found out I was pregnant, he wanted nothing to do with it. I also found out I wasn’t the only “girlfriend” in his life. So from the beginning I was distraught, mourning the loss of a relationship that never was, disconnected from the pregnancy because I didn’t want to admit that I was in this alone. I didn’t spend time bonding with the baby, I’m a horrible mother already. I feel so bad that I wasted all this time not paying attention to the baby. What if it’s born not loving me because I tried to act like it didn’t exist? What if I’m not cut out to be a good mother?”
You’re full on sobbing now, your shoulders shaking with your cries. Whether it’s all of the emotions you’d held at bay for nine months, your over exhaustion from the nearly 12 hours you’ve already spent in labor or a combination of both, it all comes spilling out.
“I’m so sorry,” you blubbered as you feel Steve’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close, “I’m so sorry.”
Part of you is apologizing to Steve, but the other part is to your unborn baby that’s currently making its journey to this side of the world. You only hope he or she can forgive you.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve soothes, rubbing your back.
Your tears soaked his scrubs, but he doesn’t move, letting you cry all you want. You feel pathetic, clinging to your labor and delivery nurse, in a mess of tears.
“Everything will be okay,” his deep voice murmurs, his arms holding you tightly against him, “I know it seems like it won’t, but it will.”
“God, I’m sorry,” you croak, when your tears subside to sniffles and you pull away to see the large wet spot against his chest.
“Don’t apologize,” he said sincerely, helping you lay back again, making sure you’re comfortable, “You’re exhausted and overwhelmed. Believe it or not, tears are pretty normal throughout this.”
“Have you ever had a mother cling to you and sob though?” you groaned, still feeling the burn of humiliation at your actions as he pulls the thin sheet over you, tucking you in.
“I can’t say I have. Though there was a fight between two mothers once on who would get me as a nurse. Apparently I’m popular enough that I sometimes am requested by name. It was a whole knock down drag out fight. I think one of them tossed their ice in the other’s face and then barely missed a purse to the face when she had to stop and bend over for a contraction. It was quite the scene.”
You laughed, then squinted at him.
“You’re making this up, aren’t you?”
“No, I swear!” he raised his hands defensively, though his lips twitch with a smile, which gives away his lie, “Okay, maybe I am. But I wasn’t lying about being requested by name. That, surprisingly has happened more than I’d ever expect.”
“I’m not surprised,” you said softly, “You’re a really great nurse, Steve.”
“Well, thanks,” he smiled, almost bashfully.
Your eyes are drooping, the crying spell having worn you out enough to become sleepy. You’re numb from the waist down, though according to the contraction monitor, you’re still steadily having contractions, though you no longer can feel them.
“Get some sleep, okay? You’ll need your energy for later.”
“No,” you argue, trying to stay awake, not wanting him to leave you.
As if he can read your mind—although maybe he sees it in your eyes—he takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before sitting back in the chair.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
•
“Why does labor take so long?”
You’d managed to get a few hours of sleep—between being woken up by Steve doing his job and checking on you. It was miraculous in itself that you’d managed to get a bit of shut eye. When you’d woken up though, you were once again in pain and were shivering violently.
Apparently your epidural had halfway worked. While you weren’t nearly in the amount of pain you’d been in pre-epidural, you still felt it on your right side. Also, you were having a common side effect to it, trembling uncontrollably.
But, you’d rather this than the excruciating pain from before.
Steve sat in the same chair as earlier, though his feet were resting up on your bed. You’d insisted actually that he might as well get comfortable if he was going to stay with you and he finally gave in.
“Do you want the medical answer to that?” he asked, with a raised brow.
“Not especially,” you grumbled.
It was the dead middle of the night, the hands on the clock just passing the 3 am mark. Your baby was sure taking its sweet time.
“It’s not uncommon with first time mothers,” Steve assured you, “It’s something new your body is undergoing that it hasn’t done before, so it tends to take a little longer. All of that along with how fast and well the baby wants to move down the birth canal.”
You gave him a mildly grumpy look which surprisingly he took in stride, not seeming offended at all, but in fact, laughing.
“I’m sorry, blame the job. Medical explanations are kind of burned into my brain at this point,” he chuckled, “It stinks, I know.”
“But,” he emphasizes, trying to keep your spirits high, “You’re on perfect track and getting closer to the end. You were a little drowsy when Kelly woke you earlier for your dilation check, so I don’t know how much you remember, but you’re at 7 centimeters now. Not much longer to go.”
Steve got up, grabbing the fluffy blanket he’d brought in earlier for you, placing it around your shoulders and cocooning you in it.
“Here, this should help with the shaking. Technically, it’s not because you’re cold that you’re shaking, but because of the medicine in the epidural. The warmth tends to help some.”
“Thanks,” you said, pulling it around you, “Tell me doctor, why am I shaking then?”
“Hey, don’t give me more credit than I deserve here,” he teased, “I’m just a nurse. But to answer your question, it’s most likely the surge of hormones your body is producing currently. Your body’s adrenaline is also heightened during labor because it helps give you the strength to push when its time.”
You frown, nerves kicking in again at the unknown of what’s to come.
“Is it going to hurt? Pushing?” you asked.
“It varies person to person. Of course since I don’t know how much pain you’re feeling with your epidural only halfway working currently, I can’t really tell you. I won’t lie, it will probably be difficult because pushing is an exhausting task.”
You press your lips together before biting down on your bottom one, attempting to keep your anxiety at bay.
“I want you to know something though,” Steve said, his tone serious.
“What’s that?” you questioned.
“No matter if it’s easy or difficult, whether it takes two pushes or ten, you’re not going to do this alone, okay? I’m going to be right here, by your side.”
•
By the time the sun begins to peek over the horizon, you’ve finally dilated enough to begin pushing.
Not only have you spent the entire night laboring, you and Steve have probably talked about everything under the sun. From favorite tv shows, hobbies, his younger band of friends to even a debate on which cheese was better—Gouda or Brie.
He’d definitely gone above and beyond when it came to keeping you company, doing all that he could to keep your mind at ease and keep you occupied.
It’s nearing 7 o’clock when your doctor shows up, just in time, you think. About ten minutes before his arrival you’d began feeling a mounting pressure in your lower half that was bearable until now.
“Is it normal to feel so much pressure?” you grimaced, starting to feel uncomfortable.
“Yup. Means it’s time to push,” Steve said.
Thankfully, that was when the doctor decided to make his appearance, along with Kelly to help once again, too.
“Which means it’s time to have a baby!” your doctor announced with a smile.
Time to have a baby. The baby could be here any moment. You felt yourself begin to spiral with just how real it was becoming.
“Hey. Look at me.”
To your left came the dulcet sound of Steve’s voice as he offered his hand out to you to squeeze.
“Right here. Okay?” he reassured.
“Okay.”
Then, you started pushing.
-
You’d lost count how many times you’d pushed although you’d been pushing for over an hour now.
Daylight seeped through the window of the hospital room, golden sunlight of the early morning bathing the room in a glow. In any other circumstances, you’d find the sight pretty, but in this moment, you were occupied with much more important things.
“Good, good, you’re doing fine,” your doctor enthused, “I can see the head now.”
You were sweaty, sore and exhausted. Yet Steve didn’t let up on his encouragement. In fact, he seemed to increase it, especially in moments he could tell you were waning. It was like this strange connection between you two and he knew exactly when you needed the extra push.
“You’re doing amazing, Y/N,” he whispered, only loud enough for you to hear, “You’re almost there, okay?”
You nodded, feeling the building pressure of another contraction, knowing you were going to be pushing once again, incredibly soon.
“Okay, give me another big push now, Y/N,” your doctor ordered.
You squeeze your eyes shut, pushing as hard as you can and you hear the female assistant nurse, Kelly, counting.
“One, two, three, four!”
Squeezing Steve’s hand as hard as you can, he continues to rapidly praising you.
“That’s it, Y/N! Keep going, keep going. And rest.”
You collapsed against the pillow near tears, exhaustion overruling everything else.
“The head is almost out,” you heard Steve say, “Just one or two more big pushes and it’ll be over.”
“I can’t,” you shake your head, tears threatening to spill over, “I can’t do this, Steve.”
One hand is already in yours, but his free hand joins the other one, holding your hand in between his own. He rests his forehead against yours and your eyes lock with his. It’s as if he’s trying to channel all the strength he has into you.
“Yes, you can. You’re not alone. I’m right here and I’m not leaving, but I need you to do this. It’s only a little bit longer and you’re almost there. You can do this, Y/N.”
His words centered you, banishing the panic that was threatening to overwhelm you just a moment earlier. You breath in deeply through your nose, eyes fluttering shut as you gear yourself up for the finishing act.
The deep breath helps clear your mind, helps you to become more determined. Steve believes you can do this and his words continue to ring in your ears as you nod against him.
He stepped back, giving you space as you prepare to push on the next contraction. His face is filled with concentration and you’re sure yours is too. There’s a small glint in his eye as one corner of his mouth turns upwards—a small expression of his support.
With the newfound determination Steve has given you, you put all your strength into the following push and it happens to pay off. Loud cries immediately permeate the room and you’re breathless and panting when you fall back against the bed, in awe. Not only is your baby finally here, but you can’t believe you actually did it.
“Congratulations, you have a healthy baby girl!” the doctor boomed.
You don’t realize you’re still holding Steve’s hand until he gives it a squeeze, joy lighting up his entire face.
“It’s a girl!” he beams down at you.
“A girl,” you whisper in amazement, a smile on your face.
You don’t even manage to see her before Kelly whisks your baby away.
“Wha—What’s wrong? Is she okay? Is something wrong?”
Your brows creased in concern as you turn your head to Steve. He’s removed his hand from yours and he’s smoothing your mess of hair back from your face before answering.
“She’s okay. It’s normal for them to take the baby off to the nursery. She’s going to be cleaned up, weighed, vitals taken and bathed. You want me to go check on her?”
You nodded, relief coursing through your veins.
“Please.”
“No problem. Get some rest and I’ll go keep an eye on baby girl Y/L/N.”
Your eyes begin to feel heavy as you attempt to answer him.
“Thank you,” you whispered, not entirely sure if he heard your expression of gratitude before sleep takes over.
•
It was nearing 9 in the morning, nearly two hours since Steve’s shift was supposed to end, yet Steve kept his promise and headed to the nursery.
Babies are lined up in their own little hospital bassinets in front of the window where relatives can gaze adoringly at their newest little family member. It’s noisy, but not anything too out if control. There’s coos, gurgling and a baby cry or two—a few babies not being pleased with whatever is going on.
“Steve!” an older nurse named Ruth, exclaimed as she notices him walk in, “I didn’t expect to see you here. Wasn’t your shift over hours ago?”
“It was,” he admitted with a smile, “But I had a special patient and didn’t want to leave her.”
Her smile was kind, though teasing.
“You’re too good at what you do, kid. Keep this up and these mothers are going to petition for a mural of your face in the hospital lobby.”
He laughed, shaking his head at her wit.
“I just stopped by to see baby girl Y/L/N. I promised her mother I would make sure she’s okay.”
“She the one that didn’t have anyone with her for the birth?” Ruth asked.
“Man, word gets around here fast, doesn’t it?”
Ruth gave him a look like he ought to know better, before continuing.
“She’s doing fine. Brenda just finished checking her vitals and getting her measurements. She’s a healthy 6 pounds 8 ounces. She’ll probably be getting a bath soon, nothing to worry about.”
Steve nodded.
“Can you let me know when she’s ready? I want to be able to take her to her mother.”
Ruth glanced at the clock on the wall, amused.
“They don’t pay you enough for all that you do, Steve.”
He shrugged.
“Sometimes it’s more about the people than the money.”
•
You’d only manage to doze off for a few minutes after Steve’s departure before the doctor and nurse had woken you for the post-labor part of delivery.
After that was over with, you did fall back into sleep, but not before a new nurse came by. You faintly remembered her introducing herself as Marie. You’d also managed to mumble out only one question before falling back asleep.
“Where’s Steve?”
You heard more than saw the confusion in her remark.
“Harrington? He’s on night duty and has probably already left. His shift was over at 7 this morning.”
Your brain was foggy from a mixture of the drugs and the events of the last 19 hours, but you thought you remembered hearing the time of the baby’s birth being 8:47 am.
Steve had stayed long past his shift, just so he could stay with you.
“Tell him—” you mumbled, eyes falling closed as you gave in to the temptation of rest.
Tell him thank you.
When you woke, daylight streamed through the window of the hospital room, brightening it significantly. Peering at the clock, you noticed it was nearly 11 and you’d managed over an hours worth of sleep. Not much, but better than nothing.
“Hey there, mommy.”
You turned your head and gasped, surprised to see Steve sitting in the chair next to you, holding a swaddled baby.
“What? You’re still here? What are you doing here?”
“Ouch. Is that anyway to talk to the nurse that brought your baby to visit?” Steve teased.
It was as if your mind hadn’t processed the fact that your little human was no longer inside of you and was actually in the world now.
“My baby?” you questioned, eyes falling to the stirring bundle in his arms.
“I brought her to see mommy,” Steve smiled, standing up with her in his arms, “Would you like to hold her now?”
You nodded.
“Yes, please.”
You held your arms out and Steve placed the most perfect, warm, little bundle of joy in your arms.
It was awkward at first as you hadn’t had much practice holding babies, but Steve helped you, guiding your arms into a much more relaxed and less tense position.
Your little girl’s eyes opened the minute you took her, like she knew she was finally being reunited with her mother. One little hand stuck out of the swaddle and you chuckled at it, in awe of how tiny it and she truly was.
You ran a finger over the small, clenched fist then over her smooth, soft cheek. Her skin was as smooth as the finest silk imaginable. Tiny gurgles and coos came from her and her adorable puckered lips opened wide with a yawn, making you smile even wider.
For all the disconnect you’d felt during the pregnancy, the love you now felt for this tiny person was now multiplied tenfold. You may have tried to hide from the love that was developing for your child, but it’d caught up to you—nine months of love you’d try to run from, crashing down on you the instant you saw her perfect face. Your heart truly felt like it would burst from the amount of love you felt for her.
Labor had been so incredibly taxing and difficult, but knowing she was the reward for it truly made it all worth it. Steve had been right.
Steve.
You’d been so caught up in admiration, you’d momentarily forgotten about his presence. You wanted to thank him for all he’d done before he slipped away for you never to see again.
But when you looked up, he was still there. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you two with a smile as wide as your own.
“She’s perfect,” you breathed, “I love her so much.”
“I know. I can tell,” he grinned, “She’s apparently very well behaved, according to a friend in the nursery.”
You beamed, already incredibly proud of your hours old daughter.
“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, “My current nurse, Marie, told me your shift was over hours ago. You should’ve gone home.”
“And miss the main event? Never,” he chuckled.
“Steve,” your voice was gentle, “I really can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done. You did so much…helped me so much. I don’t think I could’ve done this without you. Shit. Now I’m crying again.”
You wiped at your face with one hand and chuckle, trying to stave off any more tears. He’s smiling too and somehow, you know he understands what you’re trying to say.
“You’re welcome,” he responded humbly before moving on from the subject of himself, “What are you going to name her?”
“Diana,” you said firmly, confident in how right it sounds for your daughter, “In honor of her grandmother—my mom, Diane. Diana Hope. But, I think I’d actually like to call her Hope. It’s because of her that I met you and both of you have given me hope.”
“It’s perfect.”
-
In the chaos of post-birth, there were nurses coming in and out at all times to check on you, making sure your body was on the right track for healing. Nurses came in to check on the baby, a specialist came in to discuss feeding options and taught you how to breastfeed and then there was the the matter of getting Hope’s birth certificate filled out—now that she actually had a name.
You got to spend more time with Hope, even taking a few naps in between the frequent visits.
Without your knowledge, Steve had managed to slip out at some point and you felt a pang of sadness at the fact you didn’t get to say goodbye before he left the hospital.
“Well, I guess that’s that, huh baby girl?” you spoke softly to Hope, not having yet put her down.
It was then that a slip of paper on the rolling table caught your attention. The table held your long melted cup of ice and other hospital room odds and ends, but you didn’t recall seeing a piece of folded paper on it before.
Holding Hope tight to your chest, you used one hand and slid the table closer to the side of the bed until you could reach the scrap. When you opened it, your heart skipped a beat.
There was a phone number scrawled on it and a message below.
If you ever need a friend. -Steve Harrington
•
Weeks had passed and work kept Steve busy.
He hadn’t heard from Y/N and it’d been nearly a month since she’d changed his world.
He knew he had no right to, but he couldn’t stop thinking of her, thinking of little Hope, wondering how both of them were faring.
He scolded himself for leaving his phone number. She probably had no use for it, but he’d really wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. Maybe the gesture alone had been enough to help her, he might never know.
Of course, newborns were a lot of work and maybe she’d just been kept busy settling into life as a mother. He knew he was foolish to hope maybe one day he’d hear from her, but it didn’t stop him from doing so.
Even still, he wished all the best for her, no matter what.
He’d just finished up assisting in the Operating Room during a Cesarean section, healthy twins just being delivered. Mom was doing good and in recovery, but she wasn’t on his patient roster for the night. He had one other mother that was just admitted in early labor, but he wasn’t needed right now for much assistance. It soon became eerily like the night he met Y/N—an unusual, slow night.
He sighed heavily, sitting in a chair at the nurse’s station, propping his feet up on the desk in front of him. He leaned back as far as the chair would let him, his hands resting behind his head, fingers laced. He stared at the hospital ceiling as if it held the answers to the world.
“That’s an awful big sigh over there Harrington. Everything okay?”
He looked over at his co-worker and friend Kelly, who’d also been there the night Y/N had given birth.
“You ever wonder about how the moms and babies are doing after they leave us?”
She gave him a knowing look and he raised a brow in question.
“This isn’t about that one girl from a month ago that you stayed with hours after your shift, is it?”
“Damn. Is it that obvious?” he asked.
“No, I just know you.”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I guess I just worry for her and not out of pity. She’s probably one of the strongest women I’ve met in my time here. To go through all of that all alone and face motherhood alone. That’s pretty fucking admirable to me.”
Kelly was smirking at him and he gave her a confused glance, not quite sure why she was reacting to his comment in that manner.
He was about to question her when a nurse he wasn’t as familiar with—though he recognized her face—approached the desk.
“Steve Harrington?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” he answered, righting himself in the chair, feet dropping to the floor, “What’s up?”
“There’s a visitor in the waiting room for you,” she said, head motioning down the hall towards the waiting room.
With that, she walked off, leaving a confused Steve and an intrigued Kelly.
“One of your kids?” she teased.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbled.
Ever since getting this job, his younger group of friends tended to show up from time to time for surprise visits. Sometimes for no other reason than just because.
Usually he didn’t mind them and was glad to spend a break with them, but still, he sometimes missed the days before they got drivers licenses.
Shaking his head, he stood, heading down the hall towards the waiting room. It was usually only used for extended family and friends to await the birth of loved ones’ babies.
If they were out this late to visit him, he at least hoped they brought pizza. He was starving.
The moment he stepped into the doorway of the waiting room, he froze. His suspicions of the identity of his guest couldn’t have been more wrong.
There she sat, the only one in the room, an empty baby carrier next to her. In her arms was a sleeping Hope, so much bigger in just the weeks since he’d last seen her. She was gazing down at Hope, clearly not having heard his arrival, swaying gently in the seat with her. He was utterly mesmerized at the sight.
“Hi,” he breathed, unable to believe both of you were right in front of him.
You looked up, a small smile curling on your lips in greeting to him.
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