#steddie dads

[novacorpsrecruit]

I think a lot of Eddie’s fear of becoming a parent comes in the first year until he realizes how easy it is to love a child and that his dad was a piece of shit.

Steve on the other hand is so quick to fall into the father role of caring for a baby. Toddler too.

It’s the preschool age that got him.

It happened on a Saturday morning. Eddie had a late night, he was on call and ended up towing a car halfway to Bloomington back to Hawkins. Steve and Alex were making breakfast to surprise Eddie and everything was going smoothly.

With a chair pulled up to the counter, Alex helped Steve mix the pancake batter. (With Steve’s help) he measured the dry mix and milk to add to the bowl. Steve cracked the eggs, not wanting to fish out egg shells from the batter.

Alex sat on Steve’s hip, head on his shoulder as he watched Steve flip the pancakes.

“When’s daddy waking up?” Alex asked.

“Soon,” Steve said. “Maybe we can surprise him in bed with breakfast.”

“He worked last night,” Alex informed Steve, like Steve didn’t inform him half an hour ago. “With the tow truck.”

“He did,” Steve nodded, flipping the pancake. “Did the phone wake you?”

“Nope,” Alex shook his head. He slept like Eddie — he could sleep through a train driving by. Steve, on the other hand, was the one to answer the phone since Eddie was still snoring. “Papa, I want chocolate chips.”

“I can add chocolate chips,” Steve said. “You want a scrambled egg, too?”

Alex hummed, tapping his pointer finger to his chin. He broke out into a smile and nodded, “Yeah! And orange juice.” He fidgeted in Steve’s arm. “Can I go down?”

“Yeah, bug,” Steve said, setting Alex down on the ground. Steve reached into the cabinet, pulling out the chocolate chips for the next pancake. He could hear Alex opening the fridge, probably trying to get the orange juice. “Baby, be careful,” he warned. “Both hands.”

“Both hands,” Alex’s small voice repeated. The fridge door shut and Steve could hear the little pitter patter of Alex’s bare feet on the tile. He heard the soft thud of the carton on the counter.

“I’ll pour you a glass in just a minute,” Steve said, flipping the pancake.

“Okay,” Alex said.

Steve should’ve known better.

First: Alex shares most of his DNA with Eddie. He’s a sweet boy with good intentions, but pushes his luck and comes with a little bit of chaos.

Second: He was also raised by Steve — Mr. Independent.

Third: Alex was four years old. It was too quiet for a four year old.

That is, until he heard the glass crash on the ground and liquid pouring. He turned around to face Alex — standing on the chair with the orange juice carton knocked over and a glass on the ground. Alex looked just as shocked as he was.

Then, Alex started to cry.

“Oh, lovebug,” Steve said, pushing the pan away from the burner and turning the fire off. He was careful of the glass as he picked Alex off the chair and held him. Alex clung to his neck, sobbing. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay. I’m not mad. Accidents happen.”

Through Alex’s cries, Steve got that Alex was trying to be helpful. That he wanted to pour Eddie a glass of orange juice because when Alex is tired he wants juice, so daddy wants that too. Steve pressed a kiss to Alex’s temple, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Not just by the mess in the kitchen, but the memories of a broken plate followed by a slap. The realization of how small he was when he was treated that way, when he was yelled at for things out of his control, or too big for his body.

Steve couldn’t be much older than Alex is.

He shouldn’t have been treated like that.

It was never a thought in Steve’s head to yell at Alex. It was an accident. He was trying to be helpful.

Steve comforted Alex in his arms when he heard Eddie approach.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asked. “I heard a crash.”

“Of course you hear that, but not the phone,” Steve said with a wet laugh. Eddie’s face fell, taking two steps to Steve — “Be careful, there’s glass.”

“Are you hurt?” Eddie asked. “What’s wrong baby?”

“He’s just scared,” Steve answered for Alex. “Tried to pour you a glass of orange juice.”

“No, I meant — you, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his thumb swiping over Steve’s wet cheek. When did he start crying? “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded, looking down at Alex in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of Alex’s head. “I just —“ He looked up to the ceiling, blinking a few times to push away the tears, before turning to look back at Eddie. “I’m not my father.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “You’re not,” he repeated. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. “You’re so much better, Stevie.”

So maybe the surprise breakfast wasn’t a surprise in the way Steve wanted it. But after a quick clean up and a finish of the last few pancakes, breakfast was served in the living room in front of the tv with Saturday morning cartoons.

It was another way that Steve wasn’t his father. Because he enjoyed the time spent with his family. Any way, any how. Through broken glass and spilled orange juice to chocolate chips and whip cream.

Steve was so much better than his father.

Because he was nothing like him.

[mkaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

Steddie (pre season 4, canon divergent) where Dustin is unable to be located and Steve is Freaking The Fuck Out. Looking EVERYWHERE and calling EVERYONE. Eddie is following him, half trying to help look but at one point he just goes "Steve, man, calm down. it's not like there's evil commies or an alternate dimension that swallowed him whole. I'm sure he's-"

And then Steve just starts to break the fuck down because Eddie doesn't get it. Now Eddie is concerned as fuck while Steve is just sobbing and yelling about the fact that maybe it WAS Russians or the Upside Down.

Only for Dustin to round a corner outside of like- the arcade. Steve looks up and sees him and wanders over to hug him whilst Eddie stands awkwardly and concerned to the side. Dustin is lost for a few moments before he hears a few words from Steve about how he couldn't find him and then royalbard comfort yippee.

In the end Eddie gets an explanation about how it COULD have been some absolutely awful event, but it's good that it wasn't!

[the-inspector-jones]

Eddie had promised that it would only be a last resort. They weren't exactly overflowing with an abundance of good parents around them as examples, and frankly, Eddie wasn't sure he counted her among them. Still, they'd never tried to keep a very tiny human being alive, and he'd pinned her number to the corkboard with a sigh. Teenagers, he told Steve repeatedly, were not the same as infants. And although he understood arguments that their teenagers were a special kind of stupid, who had actually been very hard to keep alive, Eddie maintained they should have a backup plan available in case something got tricky when the baby arrived. He was, after all, only three months old. They might need help.

And here they were. At last resort. And earlier than he'd expected.

He sighed and dialed, hoping that Steve wouldn't hear the phone from the other room where he was in the rocking chair beside the crib.

"Help," he said.

"I'll be there in six minutes."

When Joyce arrived, she shoved a glass casserole dish into his hands and immediately went to the kitchen to wash her hands. She looked at Eddie expectantly.

"He won't sleep," Eddie said simply.

She smiled. "Well, babies not sleeping is—"

"No. The baby sleeps fine. It's Steve. Steve won't sleep."

Confusingly, Joyce smiled wider and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah," she said. "The firstborn problem. Where is he?"

"Nursery," Eddie sighed.

"On it. Why don't you go grab a shower?"

The suggestion was gentle, but Eddie still chuckled. He definitely needed that, even he could admit it. When he reemerged from the bathroom in a waft of cinnamon-scented soap, he found Steve, sprawled fully clothed on top of the duvet.

"Joyce said she'll watch him," Steve murmured, exhausted.

Eddie frowned. He moved to Steve and started pulling layers of clothing off of him. He offered Steve the soft grey tee he preferred to sleep in, but let him keep his boxers. It felt like more work than it was worth to get him into different pants. He was disappointed; he'd been hoping that Joyce would offer a better solution than someone else pointlessly watching the baby, but. Still. Sleep was sleep.

They both fell asleep immediately; Eddie dreamed of a unicorn that fed off the native honeysuckle in their yard. Just as the Protect Unicorns Society was telling him the house was going to be taken over by the government, Eddie awoke to a sharp cry, followed by the sound of Steve bolting out of bed.

Eddie followed at a more sedate pace, curious and also alarmed by Steve's movement. In the nursery, Joyce stood in the middle of the room, holding the baby, a bottle of formula in one hand as she rocked.

"Oh, look at that. Less than two minutes and you're both here," she teased with a grin. "It's almost like you're going to hear your child no matter how tired you are. Eddie, I declare you on shift. Steve, go back to bed. He's safe. He's got two great dads. Shifts, boys. You'll survive this." Eddie took the baby and smiled at Steve. Joyce put both her hands on Steve's shoulders and squeezed.

"It's hard. It's scary. It never gets less hard or less scary," she said gently. "But you've got this. Don't make Eddie call me again. He hated it."

Steve looked at Eddie over Joyce's head and gave him a small smile at the sight of the baby, curled into his chest, quietly calming down. She patted him once more and left.

"We've got this?" Steve asked quietly.

Eddie grinned. "We've got this.”

He shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. The tiny weight in his arms felt both impossibly fragile and remarkably sturdy. He watched Steve's shoulders drop, the tension visibly draining away.

"Joyce is right about shifts, you know," Eddie continued, keeping his voice low and soothing as much for Steve as for the baby.

Steve ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "But you have that commission due next week. You need sleep, too."

"Hey, I've pulled all-nighters for way less important reasons." Eddie smiled, carefully settling into the rocking chair. "Remember when I stayed up three nights straight to finish that D&D campaign for the kids?"

"That was different. This is…" Steve gestured vaguely at the baby, who had started to drift off again, tiny fingers curling around Eddie's shirt.

"This is everything," Eddie finished for him. “This is everything."

[lazylittledragon]

he's nothing if not determined

[nancywheelesbian]

I need a situation where some jock or Hawkins lab guy or whoever is menacing the kids. And Steve’s nervous because he’s NEVER won a fight before he’ll do his best but he’s gonna get his ass kicked. And then Eddie sighs, goes “okay kids. Please forget what you’re about to see here. Lucas cover your sister’s eyes” and absolutely FUCKS the guy up to the point where he’s crawling away

Everyone’s looking at him like ???? after and he goes. Just because I don’t beat the shit out of people doesn’t mean I can’t.

[whathehonestfuk]

Robin acts as a surragute for Steve and Eddie and Steve and Robin are lavander married so he's allowed in the room after the kid is born they try and place it on her for skin to skin contact but she refuses waved vaugely towards Steve (with his hand still gripped in hers) and tells them that it's his problem now, which the medical people find amusing because yeah 9 months of suffering and untold hours of labor theyd be pretty done with the thing to but argue that skin on skin is needed and good for bonding and all of that so Steve whips his shirt off and demands they give him his kid

Which is how Eddie finds him once all the medical stuff is done and he can sneak in to visit his kid, tears absolutely streaming down Steve's face

[pchunk]

I love the idea of Eddie not really being a kids kinda guy, at least not until he sees Steve interacting with the younger members of the party.

He takes one look at how gently he handles Max, how kind he is with Dustin, how he's quietly encouraging all of them- He can't take it. He's staring, he's practically melting into a puddle, he's dying-

He needs to somehow impregnant that guy right now.

[livwritesstuff]

Eight years into parenthood, the state of Steve and Eddie’s sex life is…well, it’s just about what anyone would imagine for people eight years into parenthood, Eddie’s pretty sure.

It’s certainly not the wild, loud, spontaneous shit they got up to when they were younger. It’s a hell of a lot more calculated than that, planned, quicker and quieter – unless there’s a rare opportunity alone in the house, but most nights they’re just collapsing into bed, too exhausted to do anything more than cuddle for a bit, hands slipped under t-shirts and into hair, nails dragging idly over skin as they talk about their days for a while.

Today though…Eddie’s got a good feeling about today.

Steve was home early today, and with the holidays only a week or so away, all the girls’ fall activities – sports and music and art classes and all that enriching shit – are either done for the season or on a break until the New Year, so they’ve got no places to be, nothing rushing their evening of helping with homework and making dinner and playing with the girls for a while to tucker them out.

(They’ve been into this game lately, sort of a three-on-one spin on bowling where Steve sits behind the pins and blocks their little novelty rubber balls – it’s taken on a dodge-ball-like twist recently, ever since the girls figured out they could just pelt Steve with the balls instead of aiming for the pins).

In all the in-between moments, Steve’s been all over him – leaning in close, hot breath hitting Eddie’s neck, to tell him some school pick-up gossip he’d heard earlier, tucking fingers into his back pockets or the waistband of his jeans while they wait for a pot of water to boil, tapping his foot against Eddie’s under the dinner table as they listen to their daughters talk about what's going on in their worlds.

Sure, Steve’s usually a touchy guy, but there was something different in the air tonight.

So, yeah. Good feeling.

Here’s the deal – Eddie forgot about one thing.

Friggin bedtime.

Eddie really thought, with two-thirds of his children firmly in elementary school, bedtimes might not feel so much like a goddamn Olympic sport, and to their credit, the older two – six- and eight-year olds Robbie and Moe, who are typically their troublemakers during daylight hours – have been asleep for hours by now, even factoring in all their duplicitous asks for water and more bedtime stories.

Hazel, though…

Hazel, their sweet angel baby who couldn’t hurt a fly, has never done a thing wrong in her life, has been up hours now past her bedtime.

It’s past his and Steve’s bedtime at this point, and yet Eddie can hear the way Hazel is chit-chatting away at a more and more beleaguered Steve as he tries to make his way through his own evening routine.

Suffice it to say, that good feeling is floating further and further out of reach.

“It’s time for bed, Haze,” Eddie hears Steve insist as gently as possible from the upstairs hall, “How can I help you here, babe? Staying up’s not an option anymore.”

“I just need snuggles,” Hazel says.

“You need snuggles?” Steve repeats, “You think you could go to sleep after some snuggles?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, wanna go to your room and get all tucked in?”

“No,” she says as she wanders through Steve and Eddie’s open doorway, “I wanna snuggle in your bed.”

Aaaaaand there it is.

The final nail in the coffin.

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slump just a little.

“Okay,” he says, “Alright, get on in.”

Hazel scrambles up onto the bed and pulls herself into Eddie’s lap.

“Love you,” she says with that sweet smile of hers, and god, there’s no way in hell Eddie could stay annoyed with that face, with those little hands tip-tapping on his shoulders.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he tells her, pulling her in even close so she can curl up in his arms.

“Careful,” Steve warns, but he’s got a fond smile on his face as he leans against the doorframe, “That’s how she gets you.”

Eddie ignores him.

“Want me to tell you a story?” he asks her, and Hazel nods.

Steve heads back for the stairs, mumbling something about needing to turn out all the lights, and Eddie has barely managed to set the scene on an inter-kingdom fairy-cat political conflict before he's noticing how heavy Hazel has gone in his arms, how her mouth is drooping open a little like she’s about to start snoring (and she probably is).

By the time Steve returns, Hazel is fully conked out (and snoring a little). Eddie brushes a stray curl out of her face because, yeah, despite his annoyance that the evening wasn’t ending how he’d originally thought it would, he’s still relishing in how one of their babies is still little enough to fall asleep in his arms, the other two too grown up for that kind of thing (alright, Ed, don't be dramatic, Eddie can practically hear Steve's response to that though, Moe's not even nine yet).

“God, you should’a tried that three hours ago,” Steve whispers.

“Dude, I did,” Eddie hisses in protest, “I read her, like, four before you tapped me out.”

Steve hums sympathetically as he glances towards the bathroom door.

“Hey, uh, I still gotta take a shower. You?”

“Nah, have at it. I got one in earlier.”

“No – Ed,” Steve says, hands pressed into the mattress as he leans in a little closer, “Did you want. To take. A shower.”

And – yep, Eddie’s caught up now.

“Oh, got it-got it-got it. Yep, gotta do that. And, y'know, good for the the water bill.”

“And we know how much you care about the water bill.”