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Letter Home

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: After the horrors of Hawkins have been forgotten by most, life has finally slowed down for Steve and Y/N. Having built a life together, their days are fairly simple now, but beneath all of their new found peace is a dream they've patiently carried over years of loss and uncertainty. When the party is back together again for a dinner hosted in their home, it's a phone call that finally pushes them to share their happy news with their unconventional little family.

a/n: I've been a stranger things fan for years and the ending of the series has hit me pretty hard. So here's my own little epilogue that I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night after watching the series finale. I did listen to Letter Home by Childish Gambino when writing this- hence the title x

warnings: ST season 5 finale spoilers, (sort of idk) angst and mentions of infertility, mentions of death and loss, fluff, fluff, fluff and more fluff

The office the couple sits in smells faintly of old paper and dust. A large wooden desk sits in front of them with an empty chair opposite, its surface worn smooth with time. The now scratched gloss of the surface of the wooden table catches the morning light pouring in through the wide window, dust mites drifting lazily in the air around them. Steve shifts impatiently beside Y/N, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. One hand taps against his trouser clad thigh in a nervous rhythm, the other firmly wrapped around Y/N’s fingers like he’s afraid if he lets go, the moment might slip through their hands. In front of them, papers lie neatly stacked upon the brown mahogany surface, a pen resting upright in its holder, waiting to be picked up. Steve stares at the top page for a long moment, his eyes drifting over the flurry of letters scattered over the paper before swallowing.

“What if they’ve changed their mind…?”

He asks quietly and Y/N tilts her head toward him as she speaks, “I don’t think they’re allowed to do that this far in.”

“They’re not?”

“I don’t think so,” she says honestly but then adds with a small huff, “I don’t know… I hope not.”

He exhales loudly through his nose glancing down at his watch for what must be the fifth time in the last two minutes. The leather strap sits snuggly around the skin of his wrist and a faint ticking fills the silence between them. The gold band of his wedding ring catches the sunlight streaming in from the window as he moves his hand back down to continue tapping against his thigh.

Outside the window, Hawkins looks as it does every other day, how it’s looked for a while now. Kids run past the window laughing at each other followed by a small group of teens, their bikes rattling over the pavement. A car cruises by slowly, the hum of its engine is now a distant sound as everything appears unbothered. Uncomplicated and moving forward.

“Hey”

Y/N murmurs and Steve’s eyes draw away from the scene on the other side of the window as looks at her immediately. “It’s okay,” she says softly. “She probably just got caught up in something and is running late.”

“I know,” he replies nodding, though his grip tightens around her hand. “I just…” She raises her free hand, moving to rest it gently on his shoulder and giving it a small, grounding squeeze.

“Just relax, okay?” He lets out a deep breath, shoulders finally dropping as two of his fingers come up between the material of his white shirt and neck, slipping between them and pulling down an inch to loosen the tie sitting too tight around his neck. “I know baby, I know,” he says quietly.

“This just… means a lot to you. It- it means a lot to me.”

Her mouth curves into a soft smile, emotion welling in her chest as she opens her mouth to respond to him but she stops before she can speak as the sound of the door behind them creaking open fills the room. An older woman steps inside, her lilac colored skirt swishing lightly around her ankles. She pauses just inside the doorway, adjusting a folder and mug in her hand. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she says warmly.

“Got caught by someone at the doors on my way here, you won’t believe how many people want to talk to you in the morning.”

However her voice appears as nothing but a quiet buzz as Y/N’s already looking at Steve, eyes shining and he can't help the wide, uncontrollable smile that spreads across his face as he looks back at her, joy and nerves all merging together. He drops his gaze for a moment, shaking his head slightly as if to compose himself, thumb brushing over the back of her hand. The woman moves around the desk and settles into the chair opposite them, setting her mug down with a soft clink, the smell of coffee reaching Y/N’s nose as it drifts through the room. “Big day today,” she says kindly, folding her hands over the folder.

“How are we feeling?”

“Great!”

Steve answers immediately, a little too quick like he’s bracing for a test and Y/N can’t help but let out a soft laugh, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “Sorry, Martha, we’re just-” She exhales, smiling wide now,

“We’re excited.”

Martha’s expression softens at the sight of the two adults in front of her, “That’s wonderful, I’m really happy you are.” They both nod, almost in unison. Steve’s hand slips over to rest on Y/N’s thigh and she can feel his fingers pressing into the material of her clothes, she can sense the steady thrum of nervous energy beneath his skin. Martha opens the folder and begins flipping through the papers. “Alright. We’ll go through a few formalities, just to make sure everything is clear for you two.” They listen intently as she speaks, words careful and practiced.

Consent

Signatures

Transition Period

Finalization

Y/N finds her attention drifting and she glances sideways at Steve.

He’s leaned slightly forward in the chair, his brows knit in concentration like he’s afraid to miss something important. He’s nodding along as Martha talks, chiming in with the occasional “yes” or “okay”. He looks older now, not necessarily in a way that frightens her. The crows feet by his eyes are just the slightest bit more noticeable and his hair isn’t stiff with hairspray anymore though still perfectly in place. She knows he spent a little longer getting ready this morning, she watched him in the mirror, smoothing his tie and checking his reflection twice.

He’s changed.

But somehow.. he hasn’t at all.

Still earnest, still attentive. Still the same boy who’d throw himself headfirst into danger for people he loves.

Still her Steve.

~ ~ ~

The old RV hums beneath them as they drive, its tyres rolling over the road on the way back to the trailer park. It’s calmer now, it’s ironic how it only seems to comes before something that could go horribly wrong. Nancy and Robin sit alongside Dustin and Eddie by the table in the back, the two boys joking loudly with each other as the two girls roll their eyes at them. On the bench at the back of the van, Max and Lucas sit close together, arm brushing against each other occasionally, the faintest sound of Kate Bush being heard through the headphones of Max’s walkman. Y/N’s sitting in the passenger seat up front, her eyes drifting over to Steve as he sits behind the wheel, hands upon the leather of the steering wheel. Occasionally she’ll look out the dusty window of the van, the trees blurring as they drive by, but her eyes always end up on the boy beside her. “You okay?” he asks her and she hums back,

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Same.”

He nods and they fall back into silence, random yells from the two boys in the back filling the quiet between them. It's a comfortable silence, one that doesn’t awkwardly beg to be filled. Steve clears his throat, glancing at her sideways.

“Hey, uh… random question.”

She smiles faintly, “You’re terrible at sounding casual Harrington.”

He sighs dramatically then says, “You know what forget it”

“No go on, what?” she prompts, she shifts slightly in her seat to face him, knees now pointing in his direction. He hesitates, fingers tapping lightly against the leather of the steering wheel.

“Do you ever think about… after all this?”

She looks at him, his face is softer than usual in the low light of the setting sun, dried patches of blood cling to his hairline and his neck is bruised with an ugly purple and red hue. “Sometimes,” she says.

“Why?”

He shrugs, but there’s something hopeful tucked into his voice, “I don’t know. I was just thinking I don’t wanna do this forever… fighting monsters and almost dying all the time” Her lips curve in an amused smile, “You’re telling me.” He chuckles, then exhales.

“I think I wanna settle down..”

“Settle down?” she repeats.

“You? King Steve?”

“C’mon why do you sound so surprised!" he laughs at her reaction, “And—” he glances at the girl sitting near him, voice dropping a little,

“-I think I’d be good at it.”

“At what?”

“The whole… life thing.” He swallows. “House with a big backyard and a white picket fence… Kids.”

She blinks surprised, not because it’s strange or some other worldly concept he’s talking about but because he’s saying it so plainly.

“Kids?”

“Yeah six little nuggets, three girls and three boys” he says, grinning now, “and every summer I figured we’d pack into something like- this” he says as he gestures loosely around the RV they sit in with one hand, his other still firmly around the wheel as he continues, “and we’d just drive around and see the country”

“Six!?”

She repeats, laughing gently. He winces but hums amused under his breath, “Yeah, okay, that sounded intense. I just- I don’t know. I see myself with like… a bunch of them.”

She tilts her head toward him, lips tugging up. “I’m just saying, what are you trying to do Harrington? Start a baseball team?”

He shakes his head, his cheeks rising as a smile creeps its way onto his lips, “Alright, alright, maybe six is… ambitious.”

“A little” she teases.

“But-” he adds, glancing at her, suddenly more thoughtful, “I like the chaos. I mean, look at the kids we’ve already got.” He gestures vaguely toward the back of the van, towards Dustin, Max and Lucas and Y/N smiles fondly. “They didn’t turn out that bad,” he continues. “Loud and seriously annoying- but good.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, “they are.”

She looks out the window then, watching the dark blur past, her reflection staring back at her looks calm and put together but her chest aches. She knows the truth about her future. Has known for a long time. A past filled with doctor’s offices and gentle voices. Words like unlikely and infertile wrapped in faux sympathy she didn’t ask for. She swallows, her fingers curling in her lap. “Well,” she says, forcing an easy tone,

“I hope you find someone who can give you all that someday.”

Steve frowns, confused.

“What?”

She shrugs still not looking at him, “The house. The nuggets. The whole domestic package you’re looking for.” He turns his studying her face like he’s trying to understand what she’s saying to him, he pauses a moment before he says simply,

“I already have”

“Oh, have you now?”

Her heart stutters in her chest and she tries to cover it up by letting out a small, disbelieving huff. He nods his head firmly, “Yeah,” his voice comes out softer now but still certain.

“I’m looking at her.”

She finally turns to look at him and god, it’s worse than she expected.

There’s no hesitation in his eyes, no space for doubt. Just this open, earnest affection that Steve’s only ever had for her. Like the future he was talking about isn’t abstract at all. Her smile wavers, barely noticeable, but her chest feels heavy because she wants that life too.

Wants it more than anything.

Wants to give him everything he dreams of.

But she can’t

The van slows as it approaches a red light, the red glow washing over the dashboard. Steve’s still smiling to himself, thumb tapping in firm beats against the steering wheel, like the future he’s just pictured is something solid between them. She exhales,

“Steve… I-” her voice wavers, “I can’t.”

He chuckles lightly, misunderstanding her immediately. “Okay, okay, I know six is a lot-” she stays quiet, “I mean, I’m flexible,” he continues, “four sounds good too. Even numbers right? And honestly, I think I could be talked down to three if you really-”

“-Steve.”

The way she says his name makes him stop and he turns toward her ready to ask what’s wrong, but the look on her face steals the words straight out of his mouth. Her eyes are glossy, fixed somewhere in the space between him and the windshield,

“I can’t even give you one.”

The words land wrong. They don’t make sense to him. He searches her face, his brow furrowing. “What…?” He swallows.

“You mean, you don’t want kids?”

She lets out a small, broken laugh, shaking her head immediately as the words leave his mouth. “No. God no. I do. Of course I do.” She presses her lips together, “I’ve watched the party grow up, Steve. I’ve seen who they’ve become, how could I not want that? How could I not want to be part of something like that?” His chest tightens as he shakes his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think I understand.” She finally looks into his eyes, “Steve,” she says quietly, voice trembling now,

“I can’t have children.”

For a moment, he just stares at her.

“But you just said you wanted them,” he says softly, like he’s trying to put together a puzzle that has missing parts and can’t be completed. “I do,” she answers immediately. “I want them so badly.” Her voice cracks,

“I just- I can’t.”

The light above them turns green but the van doesn’t move. Steve turns around in his chair, facing her now and he reaches out, hands gentle but unsteady, cupping her face like he’s afraid she might disappear. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey, look at me.”

She does, and he can see the tears now pooling in her eyes, her bottom lip now red and raw from being stuck between her teeth. He breathes. “Oh, baby…” He pulls her into him without thinking, forehead pressing to hers, his hand cradling the back of her head, “I don’t care,” he says fiercely, almost desperate.

“Do you hear me? I don’t care. I don’t want kids if it’s not with you.”

Her tears slip down her cheeks and his thumb moves to wipe the water off her skin, “Steve, you say that now-”

“No,” he interrupts, pulling back just enough to make her look at him. “I mean it. You are my future. Not some hypothetical version of it I’ve created in my mind.” He presses a kiss to her forehead and then her temple, “We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs,

“Whatever it looks like. It’s going to be together.”

~ ~ ~

The pen doesn’t even hover for a second before Steve brings it down to the page and his signature comes out steady despite the way his leg is still bouncing beneath the desk. When he finishes he slides the paper to his right, turning his head to look at Y/N. There’s nothing uncertain in his expression and Y/N takes the pen from his fingers. The metal is cool against her skin as she signs carefully, every curve of her name neat. When she’s done, she places the pen back into its holder and looks down at the page.

Their signatures sit side by side at the bottom.

Together.

Martha slides the papers toward herself, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses resting on her nose as she reviews them. Y/N feels Steve’s hand settle gently against her thigh again her own hand drifts to rest over his, thumb brushing the familiar ridge of his wedding band. “Alright,” Martha says satisfied after a moment, “I think the majority of documents and paperwork have already been taken care of. There are just a few minor things left like another house check of course, but I’m sure that can be organized soon so you can settle back at home.” She inhales, about to continue.

“In around two days-”

“When can we see-”

Steve speaks at the same time as her and they both freeze. Martha looks up, amused and Steve flushes immediately, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry,” Y/N echoes laughing softly, “we’re just really-”

“-happy.”

Steve finishes, unable to help himself and Martha closes the folder with a fond smile. “Please don’t apologize. It’s actually very warming to see you both so excited.” She tilts her head slightly. “It definitely lets me know I’ve made the right choice.” Steve and Y/N exchange a look, smiling wider than they mean to. Martha raises her hands slipping her glasses off her face folding them, “In response to your question though, Mr. Harrington,” Martha continues,

“Does now sound good to you?”

“Yes,” Y/N answers immediately before Steve can even open his mouth. “Please.”

Martha smiles once more, sliding the folder neatly into a drawer and the soft thump signifies its closing as she stands. “Well then,” she says, grabbing her mug off the table, “come on, before your husband wears a hole in my floor with that leg.” Y/N laughs, turning toward Steve who’s looking at her his eyes a little wide, the tip of his ears pink.

“You heard that?”

“Pretty hard not to,” Y/N teases, squeezing his hand as they stand together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their house sits a little back from the road, light blue and two stories tall with a grey tiled roof that slopes gently. White paneling frames every window and lines the front porch. They didn’t rush into buying the house, they couldn’t have even if they’d wanted to.

It took years of saving, patience and discipline. Steve’s salary came in steady but modest from the high school, split between teaching health classes and coaching little league whilst Y/N’s income filled in the gaps; long days at the library, shelving and cataloguing and helping kids find books they were looking for, followed by afternoons spent teaching art at Hawkins Elementary School, paint smudged on her clothes by little fingers fingers more often than not. Grocery lists would be stuck to the fridge, and envelopes labeled House started to get tucked into the drawer at the end of every month. They spent nights with cheap wine and instead of lavish dinners they couldn’t justify yet. Every small sacrifice felt easier because they shared it together, but eventually, the envelopes grew heavy enough for them to start really planning. They’d made a list of houses around town, circled a handful of viewings on their calendar hung up by the couch. The first one was scheduled for a quiet Tuesday afternoon. Steve had joked that it was just a “warm up for the real thing.”

However, the moment they stepped inside, all their jokes stopped mattering.

The light blue house felt… right. The rooms weren’t perfect yet but they had potential. Sunlight spilled in through the windows and the backyard stretched wide and green. Y/N had stood near the fence already imagining flower beds while Steve started planning off imaginary spaces, pointing out where a grill could go and how the tree near the back could be made into a hell of a swing.

~ ~ ~

“We should probably still look at the others”

Steve had said finally, though his voice lacked any real conviction as he looked around the living room. The space was empty, and sunlight stretched across the hardwood floor stopping right before their shoes. Y/N smiled at him.

“Do you want to?”

He hesitated, gaze drifting to the window and then to the doorway as if searching for some invisible flaw. “I mean… we’re supposed to, right? That’s what people do.” He glanced back at her.

“What if you find something better?”

“I don’t think that’s a possibility, Steve.”

She shook her head, stepping closer and he raised an eyebrow, “You don’t?” She looked around again, slow and thoughtful. “No. You know that feeling when you walk into a place and you just know. I’m pretty sure I know.” Her eyes met his,

“Don’t you?”

He let out a quiet laugh under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“I do.”

There was a pause, “So,” he said, squeezing her hand, “you’re not gonna secretly regret this in six months and say something like, ‘We should’ve seen the one with the bay window’?” She laughed softly as she took his hands and steps closer to him, his hands sliding around her waist, moving down to rest on her hips.

“Baby there's a bay window in the main bedroom.”

He smiles sheepishly, “Okay, bad example but you get the point.”

She moved her hand up his arms, both of them meeting behind his neck, one of her hands threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. “This feels like us,” she murmured.

“I don’t want to keep looking for something when we already found it.”

“Alright,” he said quietly, “whatever makes my girl happy makes me happy”

They canceled the rest of the viewings that afternoon.

~ ~ ~

The backyard of their home is Y/N’s domain. Flower beds line the edges of the grass, bursts of colour litter the soil. Daisies, yellow cornflowers and red poppies have become stubborn blooms that come back every year no matter what the Hawkins weather throws at them. She tends to them early in the mornings of the weekends or late in the evenings of the weekdays, sometimes managing to convince Steve to join her with dirt under their nails and a radio humming softly nearby.

By the patio sits the grill which Steve had absolutely insisted they splurge on as, “no one wants to be known for hosting a bad barbecue.” Now it’s well used with faint grease marks, smudged on the metal of its lid. It’s hosted new neighbors, old friends that have moved away and even kids from Steve’s little league team with their parents.

Tucked near the back corner of the yard is a small wooden shed. Inside, shelves are cluttered with gardening tools, the corners of the small space holding bags of soil and more empty pots. There’s a faint smell of earth and wood and it’s definitely just a shed. Definitely not a place they’ve ever disappeared into on warm afternoons when their home is filled to the brim with guests under the guise of “checking if the sprinkler is running,” only to emerge later flushed and clothes a little askew.

On the other side of the blue building, the front yard lays wide and green, grass stretching thick and healthy beneath the white picket fence that wraps around the property. Steve built it himself, stubborn about wanting to do it the right way, even though the job took twice as long as planned after paint brushes were abandoned in favor of the two of them flicking white streaks of paint at each other. There are still faint marks on the pavement by the fence if you look closely, small imperfections left behind because neither of them could bring themselves to sand them out.

At the end of the pathway leading up to the front door, just inside the fence, there’s the sturdy metal mailbox. Painted carefully across the front in Y/N’s neat handwriting are the words,

The Harringtons

On the other side, pressed into the metal with dried blue paint, are their handprints. Steve’s larger palm beside Y/N’s, thumbs overlapping just enough to form a small, imperfect heart between them.

~ ~ ~

The mailbox had seemed like a simple enough idea at first, a little paint and a paint brush accompanied by a quiet afternoon. How hard could it be? They’d spread old newspapers across the grass by the metal box which stood straight to attention. Y/N carefully rolled up the sleeves on one of Steve's old shirts which she’d stolen for painting when they started to renovate the rooms in the house, it was too covered in splotches of paint, wood varnish and odd pieces of masking tape to be saved now. Steve hovered nearby, his own sleeves rolled up, already speckled with color as he cracked open the small tin of bright blue paint. “Okay,” he said, inspecting the mixed paint,

“Moment of truth.”

She dipped her paintbrush into the tin carefully before starting to paint a thick layer of the paint onto her palm and fingers. As she placed the brush back into the tin she wiggled her fingers at Steve as she laughed. Steve grinned in response as he less gracefully, pressed his palm against hers, coating his hand in the sticky substance.

“Ready?”

He asked as he looked over to the bare mailbox. They leaned in together, pressing their hands against the side of the mailbox; hers smaller, his larger. He waited a moment as she pulled her thumb away from the metal so he could place his own down, the imprint of their thumbs overlapping just right. When they pulled away, the little heart between them was unmistakable.

Y/N smiled, still admiring it when Steve stepped closer, paint-slicked fingers finding her waist. His hand slid down without thinking, resting squarely against the back of her denim shorts as he kissed her, Y/N’s eyes fluttering shut as his hand squeezed the denim material slightly, lips working against each other. She kissed him back for a moment- then froze.

“…Steve.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled against her lips. “What hand did you just put on my ass?” He blinked, pulling away, “Uh... My left?” Slowly, she turned her head to look at the mailbox.

There, plain as day was his left handprint.

She looked back at him. “Steve.” He followed her gaze, eyes widening just a fraction before he burst out laughing. She spun around.

“You asshole!”

Right there on the back of her shorts was a perfect blue handprint, fingers splayed like a signature across her ass. “This isn’t funny,” she said, trying and failing to sound mad.

“This is my favorite pair!”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, paint smudging across her clothes some more.

“We can get you another pair, baby.”

She tried to protest, but he was already pulling her closer, kissing her again. She melted into it, hand coming up to cup his cheek as she laughed softly into his mouth. When she finally pulled back, breathless and grinning, she froze again.

Across his cheek was her handprint smeared in bright blue.

~ ~ ~

Inside, it’s warm, the house not just decorated but evidently lived in. A pile of shoes is clustered by the door, coats spilling over the coat hanger. Further inside, plants spill from every available surface, leafy vines trailing down shelves, smaller pots of cacti clustered on windowsills where the afternoon light catches them just right to keep them nourished. The living room is painted a soft, pale yellow that always seems to glow, even when the sun's already set. In the corner, a record player hums quietly, needle resting between the grooves of the vinyl spinning beneath it. Beside it, a small wooden cupboard holds shelves which are slowly filling up with different vinyls. Some album covers jut out at uneven angles, The Clash, Kate Bush, followed by Metallica and Tiffany, house-warming gifts from friends who insisted their tastes were essential to the collection.

The dining room is much louder. A large oval table dominates the space, surrounded by chairs that don’t quite match, stolen from the garden, thrifted, dragged in from other rooms because there are simply too many people to seat properly. The wobble gives one of them away immediately.

“Why do I get the wobbly chair?”

Lucas complains, gripping the edge as it shifts beneath him. “Why can’t you take it? You’re lighter than me.” Max doesn’t even look up from her plate as she serves up food for herself,

“Do I need to remind you how many bones I broke?” she says calmly. “I think I’ve earned the good chair.”

Dustin snorts and Will laughs into hand while Mike grins openly as Max finally looks up, sticking her tongue out at Lucas, and leans back smugly. Lucas shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

On the other side of the table, Joyce and Hopper start to talk to Steve about his job. Joyce leans forward a little, her elbows resting on the table as she asks in genuine curiosity. “So… how’s the team doing this season?” Steve shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Honestly? They suck. Can’t win to save their lives.”

“Steve!” Nancy laughs out, looking over at him as she scolds him. In return the brunette raises his hands, “No, I’m joking,” he added quickly. “They’re great. It’s an honor to be their coach.” Robin, leaning against the table with her arms crossed, jokes, “And their sex ed teacher- well, later on, I guess.” Steve groans at her, shaking his head, “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Sure won’t, dingus,” she says as she pats his shoulder only for him to playfully shove her hand away. Joyce’s eyes wander over to the wooden TV unit, littered with an array of miss matched picture frames. One of the framed photos catches her attention. “Oh, is that your team?” she asked. Steve grins as he looks over to the frame. The photo captured him crouched down at the kids’ level, a sea of blue and white uniforms all around him. His blue baseball cap sat slightly crooked on his head, and the kids were ecstatic; arms thrown up, mouths wide in triumphant shouts. Derek held up a tiny trophy, beaming pure joy and excitement. “Yeah,” Steve said, glancing at Y/N, who was sitting beside him, passing down to Will a tray of home made garlic bread. She was smiling softly, hands still faintly holding onto the smell of garlic from her earlier cooking.

“Courtesy of Y/N.”

She looked over to him with a small nod, a soft smile lighting her face. Joyce tilted her head to look over to her son. “That’s thanks to your camera I assume?” Hopper says to the boy sitting beside Nancy. Jonathan shrugged, a little sheepish smile creeping onto his face,

“You like it?”

“Like it? She loves it. I can’t get that thing out of her hands.”

Steve nudges Y/N with his elbow and the girl shakes her head and bumps her shoulder into Steve’s, laughing softly, looking over to Jonathan she responds,

“I really do love it, thank you.”

He smiles warmly, “I had a feeling it would get put to use.”

“It really does.”

Y/N says, glancing over at Steve again, the smile tugging at her eyes. The room was warm with chatter and laughter, and the faint scent of tomato and basil swirling around above the table. Mismatched chairs scraped lightly against the wooden floor as the kids bounced in their seats laughing loudly with each other. Meanwhile, Nancy leaned back in her chair, glancing at Joyce and Hopper. “So how’s Montauk?” she asked casually, sipping her glass of red wine. Joyce’s face softened, a little reminiscent smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, it’s great,” she says her voice light.

“How’s the new job Hop?”

Y/N adds and Hopper lets out a long sigh in response, leaning back like he needs the chair to hold him up. “Well… it’s a job, for sure.” Y/N raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“Is it that bad?”

Hopper groaned theatrically, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Joyce shakes her head at her husband, swatting his stomach with the back of her hand,“He’s just being dramatic. He thought it was going to be sitting around eating doughnuts all day but it's not.” Hopper shot her a mock glare, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“The pay’s better, that’s for sure.”

“Well,” Nancy shrugs with a smile, “that’s always a bonus isn’t it?” Hopper nods a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You can say that again,” he admits.

The table was a kaleidoscope of color and scent. Two large dishes of golden cheese covered lasagna sat in the center, its rich tomato sauce and white béchamel glistening under the overhead light. Meatballs which were perfectly browned and swimming in a thick, savory sauce rested on a large platter beside it. Garlic bread, still warm and crispy from the oven, drifted the scent of the butter and roasted garlic scent over everything. A salad of crisp greens leaves was sprinkled with halved baby cherry tomatoes and small creamy balls of mozzarella, black olives scattered throughout like little jewels. Bowls of shredded parmesan and red pepper flakes waited nearby, ready to be sprinkled on top of anything. Steam rose from the dishes as forks clinked against plates. The plates were mismatched, the married couple still working on finding the perfect collection, yet the mix and match from years of collected sets only made the place feel more like home. Will forked up a bite of lasagna and enjoyed the taste of the sauce and melted cheese in his mouth. He looked across at Y/N, a small sincere smile tugging at his lips.

“This is really good Y/N, thanks for inviting us.”

Y/N smiles softly at the younger boy, “It’s our pleasure, Will.” She says as she leans into Steve slightly, a grin spreading across his face at the feeling of his girl against his side.

“Yeah. We gotta fill out this big, empty house somehow, right?”

Robin’s voice cut into the conversation from beside him, sly and teasing, “I can think of one way you can do that- Mr. Sex Ed.”

Nancy and Jonathan broke out into laughter together exchanging amused looks as Jonathan places his cold bottle of beer down onto the table. Steve, cheeks reddening slightly, waved his hands dramatically. “Uh- Robin? There are children present at this table,” he says, gesturing subtly with his eyes toward the other side where Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Max were perched. Dustin, clearly not fazed, calls out from across the table,

“Dude, we’re in college what are you talking about?”

Y/N lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head, the sound warm in Steve’s ear. Joyce, shaking her head but smiling, looks over to the two of them, “All jokes aside… you two? No plans for any kiddos running around?” Mike looks over chiming in, honest and a little teasing, “You guys would be great parents. We spent most of our adolescence with you and look how we turned out.” Y/N let out a breath, playfully exasperated, glancing over at Steve before saying,

“Yeah… it’s not looking too good, Steve. I think we should save our future children.”

“Hey!” Mike barked out, pretending to be offended, while Dustin took the cue to flip Steve the bird from across the table. Hopper’s finger shoots out, wagging at Dustin in mock scolding, the younger boy raising his hands in defeat, a grin still plastered across his face. The warm buzz of laughter had barely settled when the shrill ring of the phone cut through the air. Y/N started to rise, but Steve’s hand landed lightly on her thigh, stopping her. “I’ll go,” he says softly, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably work or something.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze before letting go, the legs of his chair scratched against the floor as he stood up and stretched slightly.

She watched him as he made his way toward the kitchen, the sound of his steps soft on the hardwood floor. The jeans he wore clung to his figure, sculpting his legs, hugging him just right. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer than they should have, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips before she finally tore her gaze away, it was funny how even in something as mundane as jeans, he managed to make her heart race. Y/N leaned back in her chair, fork idly resting on her plate as she glanced over at Jonathan.

“So how’s the anti-capitalist motion picture coming along?” she asked, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Jonathan shrugged, a little tired talking about the subject but still excited.

“Good. Yeah… I’ve filmed it all, now all that’s left is editing.”

Robin snorted from where she sat opposite him, “Editing? That’s easy. No way it takes that long.”

Jonathan gave her a look, half of amusement and half a warning, “Yeah, let’s just say you guys still have a while to wait until you see it.” Nancy shook her head, laughing as she raised her napkin and wiped away some of the tomato sauce that had been caught in her bottom lip. She started to reminisce, “I still can’t get over how much red paint we used to film that scene in your uncle’s basement in Philly.” Robin groaned dramatically, throwing up her hands.

“Oh my god Nance! I still have stains in my clothes from that night. I’ve washed them a hundred times!”

Nancy huffs out, “Well my shirt wasn't salvageable."

Y/N lets the conversation fall into a dull hum, her eyes drifting lazily over the table. Her gaze lands on Hopper and Joyce, the older couple sharing a quiet moment of contentment. Joyce lightly tapped Hopper’s forearm with her napkin, laughter bright and he broke into a small smile, his mustache twitching as it moved with the grin. Her eyes then slid down the length of the oval-shaped table, catching the younger teens at the far end of the table, now all grown up- well maybe not completely. Lucas had just tossed a cherry tomato toward Dustin, who leaned back, mouth open in an attempt to catch it. Max rolled her eyes, laughing at their pathetic coordination as the tomato bounced off Dustin’s cheek and rolled under the table, joining a small pile of stray crumbs. Mike and Will, sitting next to each other, were in a quiet conversation. Will nodded at something Mike said, responding with a small laugh, and Mike’s face lit up in a smile that seemed to ease them both into laughter.

It was peaceful.

Domestic.

Looking back four years ago, Y/N could barely begin to imagine this life. After everything they’d all been through, the chaos, the horrors, the loss. She never would have imagined evenings like this. Laughter filled the air, friends and family scattered around the table. Her chest warmed with gratitude, and she silently thanked whatever higher power that had brought them all here, into her house.

Into her and Steve’s home.

Steve’s warm hand settled on her shoulder, pulling Y/N away from her thoughts as he lowered into the chair beside her. He lifted his bottle of beer to his lips for a sip, the cold glass slick with condensation leaving a damp circle on the table as he set it back down. “Everything okay?” Y/N questioned her eyes still lingering on him. “Yeah,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“It was just Martha. She said the date’s been moved forward… so we can go tomorrow instead.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly, that glint of excitement and joy sparkling in them that made Steve’s heart pump just a beat faster. “Yeah baby,” he said, voice warm, careful, watching her like she was the only person in the room.

“You happy with that?”

Y/N’s lips curved into a playful smile, “Don’t ask stupid questions Mr. Harrington.”

Before he could respond, she leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Steve’s hand, resting on her hip, gave a gentle squeeze in return, fingers brushing under her jumper against the skin of her side as if to claim the moment just for them. They pulled back just enough to catch each other’s eyes, the quiet between them being noticed by Jonathan’s eyes, which had drifted over to them when Steve came back.

“You guys look happy… did you just get promoted from Little Leagues to High School or what?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head, “No… it’s not that.”

Nancy looked towards them, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “So… what is it?”

Steve’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who was looking back at him with that soft, tender expression he knows so well. Robin’s voice cut through the quiet like a whip.

“What’s with all this secrecy guys?”

Steve’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, then settled on the table with a soft thump. The laughter, chatter, and clatter of the dinner table seemed to fade as every pair of eyes slowly turned toward them. “Wow,” Steve’s voice carried across the table.

“Got a whole audience now.”

Y/N let out a quiet entertained hum cutting through the tension. “Should we?” Steve questioned, looking over at her. “Yeah I think we should,” she says with a small nod, her hand brushing against his under the table. From the other side, Dustin was staring at them eyes wide, voice all theatrical.

“You’re killing us here guys!”

“Well…” she started softly, voice careful but certain. “Me and Steve-”

“Oh my god… you’re pregnant?!”

Max, unable to contain herself, suddenly piped up from the other side of the table, eyes wide. The words hit like a strike of lightning at the table, snapping every pair of eyes to Y/N and Steve. Laughter, shock and awe mingling across the table in a single heartbeat. She let out a small, nervous laugh, glancing down at her and Steve’s joined hands under the table. Y/N felt Steve’s thumb brushing against her skin, the same grounding comfort he had given her that day in the RV.

“No, no we’re not pregnant,” Steve says, resulting in everyone looking at each other a little confused. Lucas looks over to the two as he speaks,

“No offence guys but I’m really lost now”

“Yeah me too man”

Dustin adds on and Y/N lets the quiet settle just long enough for her to begin again. “Me and Steve we’ve been talking for a while after we got the house, and…it’s so big and-”

“-empty?”

Steve cuts in gently, finishing her sentence for her with a grin which resulted in Y/N rolling her eyes at him but nodding in response. “Yeah. Empty. So we started volunteering at the orphanage in town after everything that happened with…” She paused for a beat, unsure if she should bring up the past, the grief everyone had worked so hard to move on from. Steve leaned forward, voice warm and steady, picking up her thread.

“Since then, they’ve needed a little extra help and we noticed one of the flyers they put up for volunteers so me and Y/N have been helping out on the weekends.”

All eyes were on them now, the room falling into a hush. “So…?” Will’s curious voice broke the quiet. Y/N took a breath as she continued. “So when we were working there, we started discussing um, discussing starting our own family.” She glanced at Steve, whose gaze never left hers, steady and full of love.

“And there’s some things we had to consider… because it’s a little harder for us.”

Steve’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles in silent reassurance. Steve’s voice was steady as he continued. “A little over half a year ago we met a little baby girl who came to join us after her mother died. We’ve spent a lot of time with her…” Y/N nodded, her eyes shining.

“She’s so amazing… she’s just- she’s just become a little vessel of light in our lives over these past months and me and Steve…”

“We really love her”

He said softly, a tender smile spreading across his face. They exchanged that quiet look between each other before their eyes shifted to the rest of the room. The kids at the table looked on with quietly wide-eyed curiosity, Joyce’s hand was resting over her mouth, and she tried to blink away the tears gathering in her eyes, clearly overwhelmed, Hopper's hand resting on her shoulder.

“So… we’ve adopted her,” Y/N said, “and the phone call today was from the woman handling our case. She let us know that tomorrow… she can officially come home with us.”

A hush fell over the table, the fresh news sinking in. Finally, Dustin piped up, his voice a little wavering, scratching the back of his head as he looked at Steve,

“Is that… is that why you didn’t let me go into that room by the bathroom on the first floor?”

“Yeah, man. That’s the nursery- all set up and ready to go.”

Not a second passes before the room erupts. Congratulations tumble over one another, voices overlapping, the kids cheering a chorus of ‘Baby Harrington!’ and clapping filled the room which was silent moments before. It’s loud and chaotic and in a way that makes Y/N’s chest hurt in the best way possible. Nancy is the first to reach her as she’s sitting on her right, eyes glassy as she takes Y/N’s hand in both of hers, squeezing it tight, “I’m so happy for you guys,” she says, voice breaking just a little. Y/N smiles at her, her own tears threatening now too, her thumb brushing over Nancy’s knuckles. “Thanks, Nance,” she murmurs softly.

Robin, on the other hand, had completely lost it.

“Oh my god,” she blurts out, already half-sobbing and half-laughing. “Oh my god- I’m officially going to be Auntie Robin.” She presses a hand to her chest dramatically. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long. This is it! This is my purpose.” Before Steve can even react, she’d thrown herself into his arms, clinging to him like a desperate koala and Steve lets out a surprised laugh, arms automatically wrapping around her to keep her from toppling over.

“Okay- okay- personal space Buckley”

He laughs, but there’s nothing but happiness in his voice, a grin stretching wide across his face. Joyce wipes at her cheeks with her napkin, letting out a breathy little laugh as she tries to compose herself. “Oh- this is just… this is so amazing you guys,” she says, voice still thick with emotion.

“How old is she?”

Steve straightens a little, pride unmistakable in his voice as he answers, “She’s turning one next weekend.”

Jonathan’s reacts immediately. “Oh, we’ve all have to come around and celebrate.”

“Oh yeah you do,” Steve says easily, nodding. “Y/N’s already pre-ordered the balloons at the decoration store.”

“Steve!”

Y/N groans, hitting his arm lightly and instinctively lifting her hands to hide her face. Her cheeks feel warm as laughter ripples around the table. “Stop telling them that!” He just can’t stop himself from grinning at her, completely unwavered.

“What? You’re being prepared.”

Robin leans across the table, delightedly reaching for Y/N’s hand who lets the girl take it, “I knew it. I knew you were gonna be that type of mom.” Y/N peeks out from behind her other hand, smiling despite herself. Steve watches her with that same fond look he always does, his hand finding its way back to hers as the room buzzes with plans and excitement. It’s Mike who asks it, voice more interested than it’s been all evening.

“What’s her name?”

Y/N turns her head instinctively toward Steve. His arm had come to rest along the back of her chair at some point, and as she leaned into him, it slid down naturally to curl around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer. She looks across the table, her eyes landing on Hopper. Her voice is shaky when she answers.

“Her name’s Jane.”

She saw it immediately, the way Hopper pressed his lips together, nodding once slowly, his jaw tightening as his eyes glassed over. Joyce’s hand reaches for his arm without a word, resting there in quiet understanding. Y/N’s throat tightens as she lifts her hand, wiping away the stray tear that slipped down her cheek.

The name hangs in the air, heavy and saddening but full of love and good memories. Mike clears his throat, his voice a little unsteady, eyes fixed on the table as if he’s gathering the courage to speak it out loud.

“She would be happy for you guys.”

He doesn’t need to say her name. No one does. It’s the only person they've all been thinking about. Max starts nodding, letting out a teary huff, “Yeah… she used to call you mom and dad.” She pauses then adds,

“Steve, you’re mom of course.”

Laughter breaks out again cutting through everyone’s emotions like a breath of air. Steve groans dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “C’mon, guys,” he says, shaking his head. “You can’t be ruining my reputation like this when little Jane gets here.” Dustin grins from across the table. “Don’t you worry buddy,” he says proudly.

“She’ll know alllll about her dad’s crazy adventures.”

“Absolutely not.”

Steve just put a finger at him, mock-serious and Y/N laughs into Steve’s shoulder, her hand curling into his where it rests on the table between their plates. The moment Dustin brings up their adventures, it’s like a switch flips, the party all start talking at once, voices overlapping, the story spiraling wildly out of control within seconds as they recall the night at the Byers cabin all those years ago.

“I’m telling you, he went down like a sack of potatoes,” Dustin exclaims entertained, “That’s not true,” Lucas argues laughing. “It was more like-” the boy pauses as he makes a motion with his hand, “-face first.” Max smiles looking at the boys, “and then Y/N saved his ass.” Mike snorts, “She literally dragged Steve by the collar.”

On the other side of the table Steve makes an unamused sound, burying his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck as the other side of the table erupts into laughter. “God,” he mutters, voice muffled against her skin.

“They make me sound pathetic.”

Y/N has to stop herself from laughing at him but her shoulders are already shaking as she curls an arm around his back, fingers threading into his hair. “You were not pathetic,” she says, fond but still teasing.

“You were unconscious.”

“That does not help my case,” he mumbles, though the smile in his voice gave him away. “So,” Nancy says with a small knowing smile, looking between the two of them.

“You’re starting on your six little nuggets then?”

Steve’s hand squeezes Y/N’s side without thinking, pulling her in just a little closer. “Don’t you know it,” Steve says, looking over at Y/N. “Gonna have a whole mini team of Harringtons running around aren’t we.” Jonathan rolls his eyes jokingly at his friend's remark.

“You’ve already got one baseball team and you’re planning another?”

Steve raises his hand in faux defence, “What can I say- gotta plan in advance.” Hopper smiles at them then, something sadder tugging at his expression.

“What is she like?”

As he asked it, his thoughts flickered briefly back to the first time he’d seen the two of them together. Back at the Byers’ cabin, their voices raised, arguing over who was supposed to be in charge of the kids who were all sitting on Joyce’s couch staring at the two cluelessly. It had been loud and messy, but even then Hopper had seen it; the way they’d moved in sync without realizing it, the way they’d both stepped in front of danger without hesitation to protect the ones they love. He’d known then that there was no future for either of them that didn’t involve each other, that didn’t involve kids. Now, seeing them sitting here, married, talking about adopting a little girl of their own made his chest tightened uncomfortably. His mind drifted- unavoidable- to El. To the ache of her memory in his mind that never went away. However, his chest warmed too, because now there was another little girl. Another child who would be loved and protected endlessly by this strange and stubborn little family they’d all built together. Y/N’s face lit up instantly at the mention of the girl,

“Our little Jane?”

“Mmmhmm”

Robin hums, eager to find out more as she rests her chin on her hand, arm now propped up on the table. Y/N sits up a little, one hand resting unconsciously over Steve’s knee as she starts to talk, her voice filled with nothing but love.

“She’s so smart and- Oh! She’s so talkative! You won’t believe how much she babbles. I hear it even when I go to sleep- just this constant little stream of noise in my head.”

Steve snorts, “The little lady never shuts up.” Y/N laughed, “Hey!” reaching out to smack his chest lightly.

“That’s our daughter you’re talking about.”

He looks down at her then, all teasing gone as he speaks quietly, “Our little nugget”

Y/N tilts her head toward him, now looking at her husband, her head leans forward a little to press her forehead against his.

“Our little nugget.”

just take me out back and shoot me I can't I love them sm