Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things or any of its characters. They all belong to the Duffer Brothers and Netflix. Please don't sue me.
Chapter 1: Scars and Scares
August 10th,1985
"Steve! Come in, Steve! Are you there? Do you copy?"
The static-filled familiar voice was drowned out by the insanely loud music pulsating through a brand new Hi-Fi stereo system in the midst of a tidy bedroom. The bedroom's occupant was currently standing in front of a long mirror hung up on the door, dressed in nothing but a colorful pair of boxers and singing into his hairbrush at the top of his lungs.
"-shying away! I'll be coming for you anyway! Taaaake ooooonnnnn meeeeee, take on me! Taaaaake meeeee ooooonnnn! Take on me!"
"Steve! Heellllooo?! Come in Steve!"
Recent high school grad, Steve Harrington, continued with his hair prepping as he sung along to Aha's hit single, still one of his favorites even after nearly a year since its release.
"Steve! Son of a bitch! Answer me!"
Steve bounced crazily over to his dress, howling and rocking his head around so that the immaculate mane that resided there bobbed too. He swiped up a hairspray can with a beautiful blonde pictured on the front, shook it and held it up at an angle to his head.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four puffs.
He set the can down and ran back to the mirror to admire his perfectly styled locks.
He gently fluffed a few areas, then grinned cockily at his reflection, crossing his arms on his bare chest.
"Irresistible. You're the man, Harrington. Fuck yeah."
After dressing in a crisp pair of jeans and black turtleneck sweater, Steve was dancing over to the stand that contained his stereo, where he reluctantly shut the device off.
It was then that his ears were graced with the blaring static of the Walkie-talkie radio that sat on his bedside table.
"STEVE! STEVE! STEVE! STEVE! STEVE!"
Steve rushed to the table, snatched the Walkie-talkie and hollered back into it.
"WHAT DUSTIN?!"
There was a pause. "Jesus, took you long enough!"
"I had my system playing," Steve said, plopping down on the edge of his bed. "Anyway, what's going on, Dipshit?"
"Arcade. Tonight. Seven o'clock."
"Uh, sorry, Dustinator, afraid I can't taxi you shits around tonight." replied Steve dryly.
There was a gasp from the other end of the channel.
"Why the hell not? Do you have a date or something?" Dustin questioned.
Steve licked his bottom lip, smirking. "As a matter of fact, yes I do. Is that a-"
"OHMYGODYOUHAVEADATE?! No way!" Dustin cut across him in a squeal of excitement.
"Yes way!" Steve confirmed, unable to keep from grinning at the younger boy's reaction.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! It's actually happening. I knew you could do it, Buddy! What's her name? What does she look like? Is she hot? I bet she's hot."
"Slow down, Henderson, before you give yourself a stroke!" laughed Steve. "Her name's Kim and she's smokin', with a capital S."
Dustin made some incoherent noise that made Steve lift an eyebrow.
"Of course she is, you're Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins, Big Hair Extraordinaire! You can get all of the hottest chicks!"
Steve's grin only grew, and he was glad that Dustin wasn't able to see the bright blush forming on his face. "Yeah, well, can't argue with that."
"Did I actually hear right? Harrington has a date?"
Steve rolled his eyes to the ceiling at the new voice coming over the radio.
"Why the tone of surprise, Wheeler?"
"I thought you'd become too much of nerd for a girl to come within ten feet of you anymore, that's all. But, y'know, good luck and don't suck." answered Mike with his usual amount of snark.
"He doesn't need it with that hair and physique!" Dustin was quick to defend.
"Mike, you should really know better than to make fun of Dustin's boyfriend." came the sarcastic drawl of Max.
"Shut up, Max!" said Dustin.
"You guys can't deny that Steve has the best hair in Hawkins. Maybe even Indiana itself." joined in Lucas.
"Steve has soft hair." added El in a quiet voice that was barely heard over the static.
"How would you even know that, El?" inquired Mike suspiciously.
"Guys, what's going on? Why are we talking about Steve's hair again?" Will was late to the conversation and very confused from the sound of it.
Steve let out a long, tired sigh as Dustin started to explain, with the rest of The Party jumping in with smart quips and additional unnecessary information as he did so.
"Talk to you later, Shitheads," Steve stood and set the walkie back on his table, turning away before remembering something, and whirled around to pick it back up. "Over and out!"
Steve still wasn't sure how he ended up here, on a date with Kim Jones, that is. It felt like a dream. Fake.
Even though he'd done quite a bit of healing in the past nine months since the whole Mind Flayer shit, it was only nine months and horrors of the like he'd witnessed were most likely never going to leave him, let alone in a measly nine months time. Along with that came other traumatic, life-changing events such as his break-up with Nancy Wheeler, becoming the official babysitter for six scrawny teens, and, oh, being nearly beat to death by new kid on the block, Billy Hargrove.
Steve was a fighter though. He was young and not about to let that crap destroy him. So he pushed himself to get better, to move on and try to live life as he should. Sure, it wasn't easy. In fact, it was hard as hell. But what else could he do? After all, he was a big brother now, and he had to be strong for them. Those fucking little shits.
"So, what's your plans now that you've graduated?" wondered Kim, her sweet, feminine voice tearing his thoughts away from the kids.
Steve looked up from his hamburger to the gorgeous blonde seated across from him.
"Um, actually, I'm currently attending Thornwood Police Academy. Two months in, four more to go." Steve said proudly, taking a huge bite of his burger.
"Ooooh, a police officer," Kim giggled and nibbled her bottom lip attractively. "That's so exciting!"
"Yeah, but the training is brutal-" Steve spoke around a mouthful of burger, switching then to take a swig of his Dr. Pepper to wash it down. "Basketball practice was preschool compared to the shit they put us through there."
"Yeah, but, imagine all the muscle you're packing on." said Kim, her baby blue eyes scanning Steve with a sudden hunger that he failed to notice.
Steve shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, that's true. I can definitely tell some of my shirts have gotten tighter on me anyway."
Kim twiddled with the straw to her drink, watching Steve with heavy-lidded eyes and a small smile.
"How about you? Do you have any plans?" Steve asked her.
"Nope. I'm content for now working at Old Joe's."
"Really?"
Kim straightened, blinking at him. "Really. I'm comfortable and the tips are great. Besides, I'm not a nerd, so college is out of the deal."
Steve took another bite, chewing thoughtfully.
There was silence between them for a few minutes as they both finished their meals, the chatter of the other diner patrons filling the void comfortably. Steve happened to glance up and caught sight of the clock on the wall behind Kim.
7:55 PM.
Shit, he almost forgot.
Steve swallowed the last bit of his burger with a sip of his soda, before scooting out of the booth to stand.
Kim looked up at him questioningly. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, just gotta use the bathroom real quick." said Steve, providing her a charming smile.
Steve didn't even bother knocking as he busted through the door to the Men's restroom, his temples throbbing with an oncoming migraine. Fuck, this was the third one this week so far. Steve locked the door to the bathroom and went to the sink, where he looked into his reflection. He still appeared decent, though he felt completely different on the inside. Letting out a long shaky exhale, Steve shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew from it an orange bottle.
He glared down at the little white pill that popped out onto his palm from it before shoving it in his mouth angrily.
Yeah, Steve was a fighter.
He would keep on keeping on.
He would be strong, if not for himself, then for the little shits.
Even if it meant chugging down medication for the rest of his life. He fucking hated it.
All thanks to fucking Billy Hargrove.
He couldn't have just left him with a few broken bones, a black eye, maybe even a missing tooth? No, he had to make sure that Steve Harrington was fucked for life.
Steve was no angel, he knew this. Honestly, he was kind of an asshole. But had he truly deserved this kind of punishment? Maybe he did...
Whatever, the point was that he would move on as best he could and do better. Nancy had always believed in him, had inspired him. Although she was no longer his to hold, that didn't mean she was not still affecting him.
A little brain damage wouldn't hold Steve Harrington down.
Fuck no.
Not when he had so much to live for in six utter dorks.
It was nearing midnight when Steve pulled up into his parents' driveway, on a high from the movie he'd just got done seeing at the theater with Kim.
"This your place?" the blonde was gaping at the lavish home before them.
"No." Steve said, puffing on a cigarette.
Smoke clogged the air in the BMW. Kim coughed and turned to him.
"You don't have your own place yet?"
"Working on it."
"Are they home?"
"Nope."
"Then, what are you waiting for?"
When Steve didn't answer and kept smoking casually, Kim decided to take matters into her own hands.
Literally.
"What the-?" Steve cried in surprise when he felt Kim's hand land on his crotch.
Kim did not apparently take note to Steve's shock and discomfort as she kept her hand placed there firmly, and started to lean towards him, her breath hot and heavy.
Steve was wide-eyed, his cigarette clamped between two fingers, while his free hand reached to grip Kim's shoulder.
"What are doing?" he asked in a slightly raised voice.
"Making the first move, since you're too slow." Kim said breathlessly, her lips meeting his neck in a soft kiss.
"You can't wait for the bed?" said Steve, incredulous.
Kim did not answer him, but continued to kiss his neck and hold his crotch, faint little moans issuing from her.
Steve knew he should be enjoying this. How often does a guy get a horny-ass girl like this? Hot and fast. He knew he should be turned on immensely, especially after going months without so much as a passing glance at another female besides Nancy. He thought he'd be willing, be ready. But somehow sex with this girl was sounding less and less appealing.
Even a bit gross.
"Hey... Hey. Hey, hey! Stop! Get off of me!"
Steve all but threw Kim back into the passenger seat, and the girl was looking a mixture of disbelief and fury at him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she snapped, brushing her hair back out of her face.
What the hell was wrong with him?
"I-," Steve stopped short, not making eye contact with Kim as he searched for the right words.
The problem was he couldn't find any.
Shit.
Kim was glowering at him. "You're seriously not going to fuck me?"
"What?" Steve was at a loss now.
"You've got to be kidding me," said Kim, rolling her eyes and huffing as she slammed herself against the back of the car seat, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "Just take me fucking home."
Steve stared at her, a frown shaping on his lips and between his brow.
Perhaps a couple of years ago he may have pleaded with her to stay, apologize and kiss her. To be honest, he probably would have already been done banging her up in his bedroom by now.
But that was young and immature Steve. He'd seen and done far too much shit to remain as he was. He was growing up and didn't have time for people like Kim.
Without a word, Steve put out his cigarette in the ashtray on his car's door, and pulled back out of the driveway. Neither of them spoke all the way back to Kim's house, which was on the opposite side of Hawkins. Not even before he could completely park the car, Kim was flinging her door open and hopping out.
She swung her purse over her shoulder, heels clacking as she pivoted on the spot and bent a little to look at Steve in the car. He grimaced at the nasty expression that was plastered on the girl's face, taking her hotness levels down a few pegs.
"I don't know why you even bothered taking me out. It's no wonder Tommy and Carol don't hang with you anymore. You're a fucking little bitch, Steve Harrington!"
Steve did not give her the satisfaction of insulting her back, instead choosing to ignore her entirely and blare his radio. He flinched at the car door slamming. He flipped his middle finger at her back as she stormed up her driveway, purse swinging and hair bouncing all the way.
Steve's drive home was moody and dark, and he found himself not turning the station as The Cure's Pictures Of You came on, but only increasing the volume.
"What the fuck, Harrington..." he murmured to himself, pushing his fingers through his thick tower of hair.
Humming along to the music, Steve was just about to turn onto his block, when suddenly the song was cut off by a screeching wail. Steve jumped and swore loudly, slamming on his brakes. He looked at the radio with huge, crazy eyes, his heart hammering. The horrific sound was gone, but the music had not returned.
Steve pulled off to the side of the road and parked his car. He fiddled with the dials and knobs, hands shaking, praying to God this was just some stupid interference from another station or a faulty satellite.
"Hello?!"
Steve stiffened.
Did his car radio just say hello to him? No, please, no more weird shit, please-
"Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me?"
"NO! FUCKING NOPE!" Steve screamed, beyond freaked out.
He didn't waste a second, ripping the keys right from the ignition, and scrambling to get out of the car.
Steve shut the door roughly, backing away from the car in a frantic, jumpy manner. Automatically, he ran around to the rear of the vehicle, popped the trunk and took out one of his most prized possessions.
He gripped the blood-stained nail bat in both hands, panting and glaring at his pretty BMW that was sitting there way too innocently.
"Fuck you!" he shouted at it, then turned and jogged off down the road.
No. No fucking way was he going to drive that home tonight. The last thing he needed was some fucking slimy portal to Hell to open up in it and swallow him whole. His house was only a few doors down anyway. He'd call Hopper first thing in the morning and let him know, have it checked out. For now, he just needed to get home and wash away the icy cold feeling that was spreading through him with a scalding hot shower.
A/N: So, I'm officially in love with Steve Harrington... That still sounds weird, lol. Anyway, hi everybody! Thought I'd give my shot at a Stranger Things fic. This will be mostly told through Steve's POV and honestly be mostly about Steve and his children, with some additional spooky shit thrown in for good measure. As I've been prowling the fandom currently at large, I too have come to agree that: 1) Steve has definitely got long term complications from what I call a traumatic brain injury from Billy, 2) Steve deserves to be loved by someone who will love him as much as he loved Nancy, and 3) Steve needs to stay in Hawkins and become a deputy beside Hopper. He can't possibly leave his babies to fend for themselves, my God.
Not sure how well this will go, but I'm writing it because I need to, for the love of Steve Harrington, the world's greatest babysitter. Period.
