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xsteveharringtonsmistress86x

Jan 6, 2023

erin-bo-berin

By Your Side

L&D Nurse Steve Harrington x Pregnant!Reader

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.

“I think I’m ready for that friend now.”

xsteveharringtonsmistress86x

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