From Now On (Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away) I S.H
Pairing - Dad!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader
WC - 1.5k
Summary - enjoy some christmas stevie with your toddler, and a special announcement… <3
AN - oops! It appears i can’t stop writing steve as a father. y’all can thank mady @skeltn for that one.
With love- Emma
The soft, staticky sounds of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ emanate from the thrifted record player in the living room; drifting into the kitchen where you’re rolling cookie dough and wincing as your toddler tries to ‘help’ by adding way too much food coloring into the bowls of frosting.
Over the sounds of nostalgic Christmas tunes, you hear a small crash and the cursing of your husband as he attempts to wrap your eight foot tree in garland.
“You okay, honey?” You shout from where you stand at the counter.
A pause, “Yeah, I’m just–ugh these fuc–”
“Steve!--”
“Fudging lights–” he corrects, “they’re all tangled. I’ve been working at them for, like, twenty minutes,”
“Let me get these cookies in the oven, Ellie and I will come help,” you call back.
More grumbling can be heard echoing from the other room as your daughter, Eleanor, is rummaging through your small container of cookie cutters, eventually giving up and deciding that it would simply be easier to dump all of them out onto the floor.
Her pudgy little hands grab one that's shaped like santa in a sleigh as she declares,
“I do this one,”
“Do you want mommy’s help or do you got it by yourself?”
She doesn’t respond but clumsily presses the stencil into the floured dough. It comes out a little wonky, but you don’t mind, you aren’t going for perfection. Steve will have eaten them all within the next few hours, anyway.
Speak of the devil, “How are my girls doin’?” he saunters over to you, slightly sweaty from the exertion of decorating the tree and presses a kiss to both yours and Ellie’s cheeks.
When he sees Eleanor’s handiwork, he gasps, “Ellie, baby, these are beautiful!” He fawns over the barely recognizable shapes on the baking sheet like they’re the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen in his whole life.
Ellie can tell he’s pleased with her and starts to giggle with her sticky hands over her mouth. You wisely chose a recipe that didn’t call for eggs, knowing your three-year-old was bound to ingest the raw dough at some point during the process.
Now that Steve’s in the room though, she conveniently decides she’s done helping and motions with her arms for her dad to pick her up. He does so without hesitation, even though she’s covered in frosting and flour, easily lifting her from where she stands in just an oversized tee on a step ladder against the cabinets.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up, huh? Give mommy a break,” he looks pleadingly to you, “Can you please try to untangle the lights while I’m gone?” And how could you say no when he looks so pretty and asks so nicely?
◞◟·̩͙ ͜ ˳꣑୧ ͜ ◞◟·̩͙◟
By the time you’re finally done unraveling and applying a mess of sparkly bulbs and shiny tinsel to your Christmas tree, Ellie comes barreling out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around her and Steve hot on her tail. Miniature wet footprints mark a path from the bathroom door all the way to the couch, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out who the culprit is.
“Eleanor Rose!” He yells through gritted teeth, solely because he’s fighting a smile.
You laugh boisterously as you watch your grown husband chase after a toddler in an uncomfortable crouched position that looks ridiculous displayed on someone his size. It’s a sight for sore eyes.
“Hey! It’s not funny!” Now his feigned frustration is directed towards you, “Are you just gonna stand there and laugh or are you gonna help me catch this gremlin?!”
As it turns out, he doesn’t need help after all. When Ellie reaches the couch, she realizes she has nowhere left to turn and succumbs to a fit of giggles on the fluffy cushions. She’s red in the face and certainly not dry, but you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed. Your couch might be a little soggy, your floor might be a little slippery, and Steve might be absolutely exhausted, but you don’t dare dream of your life looking any differently than this.
Steve’s playing Tickle Monster with Ellie when you realize she still needs her pajamas on.
“You wanna get her dressed or shall I?” You ask him over your daughter’s squealing.
“Oh, take her, please,” you can tell he’s teasing though. If you really wanted, Steve would let you lounge in your bathrobe all day– reading Cosmos and drinking iced tea while he took care of Ellie. He’s in his element when he’s spending time with her. Even when you were just silly teenagers in love, you’d never seen him so fulfilled as he is now.
That sentiment is the only reason why you don’t feel wracked with nerves over the news you’re about to deliver him.
◞◟·̩͙ ͜ ˳꣑୧ ͜ ◞◟·̩͙◟
Steve’s putting the last of the ornaments on the tree when Ellie reappears from her bedroom with a huge smile plastered to her face. She careens into his shins and he stumbles a little with the unexpected force.
“Hi, peanut!” He grunts a little when he picks her up. You follow suit, wearing the matching pajamas Steve had picked out at Sears for everyone last weekend.
“Did you get your jammies–?” His eyebrows knit together, puzzled, as he realizes he doesn’t recognize the top she has on as the one he bought for you all to wear tonight.
“Babe, why didn’t you put her in the–”
It's then that he catches the words printed on shirt in bold, pink letters,
‘Big Sister.’
Once the initial confusion passes, his eyes immediately well with tears and his features soften like butter.
“What? He asks in that quiet, wobbly voice you’d only ever heard him use a handful of times.
“Surprise,” you respond timidly with your hands out in an almost-shrug.
He sets Eleanor down as gently as he can while also rushing to your side. He embraces you so tight it nearly knocks the wind out of you. When he lets up, he still doesn’t let you go far as he cups your face in both of his warm hands.
“How long have you known?”
“A week or so,” you shrug.
“Baby, I can’t believe this!” his quiet, shocked demeanor quickly morphs into something more like excited giddiness and he’s practically jumping up and down now.
“Oh my God!” He picks Ellie up and swings her around by her armpits before smacking kisses all over her tiny face. You know she’s still a bit too young to properly comprehend the gravity of the announcement, but she’s just so happy because her dad’s so happy.
“Ellie Bear! Mommy’s having a baby!” He holds her by her torso and gives her a light shake, she just throws her head back and laughs, not a clue what’s got him so worked up. With her belly exposed, he blows a raspberry on the exposed skin.
You make your way back to his side and engulf them both in a hug. Your perfect little family of three, soon to be four, and you couldn’t be more content than you are in this moment.
◞◟·̩͙ ͜ ˳꣑୧ ͜ ◞◟·̩͙◟
Two hours and one Christmas TV special later, Ellie is snuggled tight to Steve’s chest, lost to slumber. It appears Steve’s not too far behind her as his head is rested against the back of the couch– mouth open and slightly snoring– comforted by his own personal weighted blanket.
“Stevie,” you whisper, giving him a gentle shake, “don’t fall asleep,”
“Jus’ resting my eyes, darlin’,”
You scoff, teasing, “Right,”
He looks down at the sleeping child nuzzled into him, and plants a barely there kiss to the crown of her head. He rises slowly, so as not to wake her, and you follow him to her room.
He sets her down atop the frilly pink comforter with a practised ease, she stirs only slightly, and covers her up with a Disney Princess blanket that was previously splayed at the end of the mattress. You take turns giving her featherlight kisses and wishing her ‘sweet dreams’ even though you know she can’t hear you.
You and Steve are hand in hand as you tiptoe out of her room and close the door with a soft click, giggling like children.
Outside her door, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Then to each cheek. Then to your mouth.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“I love you,” he whispers back, “more than anything,”
“Wanna call it a night?”
“Can we make out first?”
You gasp in faux disapprovement as you smack a loving hand against his chest and he fakes a wince for dramatic effect. Always the drama queen, your Steve.
“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy,”
“Don’t call me that,” he tries to sound stern and fails.
“You love it,” you smirk.
You squeal when he grabs you behind your knees and hoists you up and over his shoulders.
“Quiet, baby. You’re gonna wake up our baby,” he scolds through a giggle. You pinch his butt in retaliation.
“Okay, that’s it. Off to bed with you,”
The next hour is spent in bed with your best friend– hushed laughs and languid kisses and skin caressing skin before you both drift off into a peaceful sleep; holding each other close like you always have.
