Hi! Whenever you have time do you think you could write a fic about bug and Steve having dinner with his parents? Remember how on Steve’s birthday his parents came back and it was awkward and filled with tension and a promise to have dinner together sometime? :))
YESSSS !!! was hoping id be asked to write this since i intentionally added it into chapter 9 like hehehe theyll wanna read this blurb when it comes <33
enjoy !
"everything will be fine, honey." your fingers trace over the lines of steves tie, tying and retying it a million times to ease your own anxious mind.
"i feel like i should be the one reassuring you," he mumbles bitterly, once again undoing the tie so that he can try himself.
you watch him with slight amusement, though mostly concern. his hair is a mess and hes wearing a tie to a family dinner in a house hes live in his entire life. yet steves home isnt really a home and the tie is a vain attempt to mask the disappointment of it.
steves back is turned to you as he frowns in the mirror. the crease in his delicate features upsets you to see. wrapping your arms from behind him, your head pokes from over his shoulders, standing on the very tips of your toes, and you make a silly face at him in the mirror.
a gruff laugh reverberates through steves spine and you hold him close, resting your head where it fits just between his shoulder and neck, smiling into his skin. steve finds the hands that are clasped against his chest, and he encases them with his.
"i love you," he says, soft. the tie around his neck hands, forgotten, and he simply allows you to hold him.
"i love you, too."
steve tries to commit to memory the sight before him. the image of the two of you standing in the mirror together, how you just barely manage to be seen. your arms around his waist, his hands around your arms.
"my angel," he pinches your nose, and when you squeak in protest he quickly spins around and cradles your head, kissing the tip of your nose over and over again.
you erupt into laughter and steve sways your bodies together, messily dancing in your room, the imminent night no longer darkening the corners of it.
the table is set in the harrington house when you arrive. in your two years of knowing steve, youve never seen the dining table used for anything other than robotic sets and the occasional puzzle.
may harrington is in the kitchen, dressed in a gorgeous velvet gown that drapes over her frame elegantly. the smell of roast chicken wafts throughout the home and shes just finished cutting up the vegetables when you arrive.
"hello, darlings. dinner will be done shortly." she greets you and steve warmly, sweeping you into her arms the moment youre close enough.
the hug surprises you and it takes you a moment to reciprocate, but when you finally do, may sighs into your embrace.
"thank you for coming," she says, the sincerity in her voice longing and dim.
"of course," you squeeze her hands, smiling as kindly as you can. you admire the woman, you know shes done the best she can with raising steve with a husband who never wanted to be a father, but youll never forget the way steve clings so desperately onto the people in his life, the ever present fear of one day losing everyone hes ever loved.
"wheres dad?" steve looks around in the otherwise empty kitchen. may avoids his gaze. he sets his hand on the counter. he swallows, breathes out heavily. his movements are defeated, expected. "he isnt coming, is he?"
may brings her fingers to her lips. she doesnt say anything, and your fingers itch to brush against steves.
"if you have the ingredients, mrs. harrington, id be happy to put together a salad while you finish up with dinner." your only way of offering mercy to both parties. saving may from having to disappoint her son once again, and saving her son from having to linger in the feeling of familiar abandonment.
"if you wouldnt mind, that would be lovely, y/n." mays eyes are tired when you look back at her. suddenly the elegant drape of her dress seems to almost drown her. shes a shell of a once grand woman, and all you feel for her is pity.
you nod meekly at her, helping yourself to the fridge as youve done time and time again when she isnt home. theres some carrots, celery and cucumbers, and you place them onto the counter.
"steve," you softly call to him. hes still standing at the counter, eyes tracing over the line of the marble. his disappointment once used to be outrage, loud protests and direct retribution, but now, under the kitchen lighting in his childhood home, his disappointment is only adorned with resolved silence.
"honey," voice lowered so only he hears, your hand finds his arm. you try to bring warmth back to his body, try to lull him with any affection you can. "why dont you help me cut up the vegetables?"
phrased as a question, though you both know that it isnt. steve finally releases the last of the anger in his shoulders. he nods, wordless and bitter, and allows you to guide him towards the cutting board.
you stand shoulder to shoulder. his fingers skim yours every time he hands you a vegetable, and your hair brushes against his cheek. the motions are slow, eased, and slowly he comes back to you in the space only the two of you inhabit.
dinner gets served and may tries to salvage the remains of her relationship with you and her son. she makes polite conversation, and you respond with grace, though she knows that her sons disappointment accompanies yours.
the dinner lasts no longer than an hour. steve doesnt touch his food. he doesnt talk. you help may clean the dishes and as your hands soak the plates, the woman murmurs to you, "i tried, you know."
"i know," you tell her, but for what? what has may harrington tried for except the absence of a father? the conversation that failed to amend years of loneliness?
but the shadow in her eyes and the shake of her fingers smooths the anger you feel towards her. shes lovely when she is able to be. shes kind and makes her son banana bread every year it snows. she comforted steve when he had nightmares, she calls him her beautiful boy, and you know, effortlessly and easily, that she loves her son.
"i used to call my husband honey," may wipes her eye, doesnt try to hide this action from you. she shakes her head. you can see the weight of what once was etched into her beautiful eyes.
may sighs, drops her hand and looks up at you one last time. "take care of him, please."
"always," you promise her.
in the dim light of an empty and cold kitchen, two women interlace their fingers together, though they dont look at the other, and the touch says everything that they are unable to.
Hellooo??? Your rewrite of stranger things?????? I’ve been reading it non stop these past few days and I’m actually obsessed 😭 the part where it’s his bday and his parents came back 😭😭 the way you write canon but also make room for your own storylines and dialogue is chefs kisss 🤌🏼 can’t wait until s4 is finished <3
AH THANK U !!!! i love reworking canon to fit my own prerogative lmao
Request for Nikolai Lantsov based on KOS? Basically its reader who falls into the water and Nikolai has to dive in to save her. You can adjust the story however you see fit!
Hi darling!! I just completed your request and you can find it here <3 Hope you enjoy!
