Steve falls face first into bed and sighs. His mattress is like heaven to sink into after being up most of the night with the kids.
Sometimes it's still hard to believe that this is his life. He's so much older than them and they could just hang out with him for the rides he gives them, or all the space using his house gives them. And maybe that is all a little bit true for Mike. But the rest of them are way too genuine to be faking it. Dustin, he knows, can't lie without being awkward—more awkward than he usually is.
Being included is great. Steve appreciates it. But they're going to have to start coming over earlier in the day for their hours-long campaigns.
They showed up one by one late last night, permission already given for sleepovers—Steve is sure their parents all thought they were at one of the other kids' houses—and ready to include Steve in their game. He still sucks at it with all the improvising and trying to keep straight what he can and can't—or shouldn't—do, but they never get mean when they tease him about it.
They didn't finish until it was late enough to be early and then passed out around his living room. His back doesn't appreciate the way he slept all scrunched up against the front of the couch. The kids all seemed fine when they woke up, still way too early but raring to get on with the rest of their weekend. Now it's late morning and Steve is ready to sleep the rest of the day, maybe the next two, away.
The sound of the phone ringing puts his plan on hold. Steve would love nothing more than to roll over, shove his pillow over his head, and ignore it. He can't do it, though. Every time the phone rings, he worries that it's Hopper or Dustin or even Nancy calling to tell him that someone is missing or there's another monster on the loose. That hasn't been the case so far, but he still can't bring himself to ignore it.
With a mournful sigh, Steve pushes himself off the bed. He takes the stairs two at a time, only stumbles once, and makes it to the phone before it stops ringing. "Hello?"
"Steve, it's Hopper."
"Oh, hey. Everything okay?" Hopper sounds a little off. Not angry or urgent like there's something to worry about, but still. Off. If it was an emergency, though, Steve is sure he would have gone for the radio first.
"Yeah, we're fine. Listen, I have a favor to ask."
Steve can feel his weekend of sleep slipping through his fingers. "Shoot, what's up?"
"I hate to ask, I know you've probably got other things to do."
"It's fine," he says with a mental shrug. "I don't have any plans."
"If you're sure," Steve makes an agreeing sound, "Would you mind running to the store? El made me promise not to go anywhere this weekend, and well."
"Yeah, I know how she is," Steve says, smiling. His bed is still calling to him, but it can wait. Hopper wouldn't be asking if they didn't need it. Even if they have more than he's making it sound, Steve can't fight the urge he has to prove to Hopper that he's—what? Dependable? Not the waste of time and money his parents have written him off as? Besides, he feels a bit responsible if they're out of food already. Steve is the one who keeps coming over and using all of it. "Sure, need anything special or...?"
"Just food. Whatever you normally get works. I'll pay you back before you head home."
He wonders if Hopper is aware of just how much he normally brings over. Maybe they really are that low on everything. Steve wishes he'd checked the last time he was there. He could have gotten this done sometime during the week, or insisted that the kids come over earlier so he could have slept last night.
"Sounds good. See you guys in a little while."
"You're a life-saver, thanks kid."
The gratitude and relief he can hear in Hopper's voice goes a long way. He has the rest of the weekend to do nothing. A trip to the grocery store for a couple of his favorite people really isn't that much of a hardship.
"You're welcome."
The trip through the store is not nothing. Everyone and their moms seem to have decided today is the perfect day to go shopping. Steve almost loses a hand reaching for some broccoli.
Exhaustion is a hell of a thing. He knows getting the food he needs isn't actually that hard. Simple tasks always feel a hundred times more difficult when he hasn't gotten any sleep. Even so, he's sure he's never seen the store so packed. Going to the next closest town might actually have saved him some time.
By the time everything is checked out and put away in his trunk, he's ready to drop right there. Soon. All he has to do is make it to the cabin.
Where he didn't think about the fact that he would have to haul the bags through the woods first. He's been making this same trek for months. How did he not think about that?
Bags in his arms, Steve takes extra care not to trip over any branches. Or his own feet. If he doesn't pay close attention to where he's stepping, he doesn't trust himself not to fall over. Reaching the door without dropping any of the food feels like a victory.
He hears the locks all click.
"Food's here!" he says as he lets himself in. The TV is on and Hopper and El are sitting together on the couch, El tucked into Hopper's side. Suddenly the whole miserable day is worth it. Sometimes El needs a relaxing day with her dad, when they can enjoy each other's company before they start getting on each other's nerves again.
Hopper moves to stand but Steve shakes his head, "I got it."
"You sure?" Hopper asks even as he settles back into the cushions.
"Yeah. Pretty sure I know where everything goes." Considering Steve is the one who reorganized everything. He winks at El when she laughs. When he realized how often he was going to be cooking while he was here, he had to set things up in a way that made sense to him. It's not very fun, or efficient, spending five minutes looking for the eggs or vegetables or flour every time he starts making something.
Hopper wasn't lying; the fridge is mostly bare before he gets everything put away. Steve doesn't know how he missed it through the week, but they have stuff now and that's what matters.
"Done," he says, hands on his hips as he gives the counter a onceover. Looks good. Steve sighs, glad that he's finally done. He's heading for the door when El catches his eye. She looks up at him with wide eyes and he already knows he doesn't want to hear whatever she's about to say. He stops anyway. If there is a way to resist that look, he hasn't found it yet.
"What's up?"
"Will you make lunch?" she asks. Hopper nudges her with his elbow. "Please. Will you make lunch, please?"
Steve's right. He wishes he hadn't heard it.
"Sure, kiddo," he tells her, smiling. "What are we thinking? Grilled cheese?"
She grins and he knows he made the right call. At least it's something easy. Bread, butter, cheese. He can do that in his sleep.
"Hopper?"
"Sounds great."
Steve shoots them a double thumbs up without thinking about it. "Sure thing."
It doesn't take long before he has a few sandwiches plated up. He hands them each their own since they look comfortable enough not to want to move. Selfishly, Steve would also rather sit on a cushion than in one of the kitchen chairs. Getting to recline a bit rather than having to sit up straight sounds great right now.
"Thank you."
Steve winks at El and bumps his fist against her shoulder.
"You're welcome."
Steve takes the free space on El's other side, sighing in relief. Finally, he can relax. Hopper turns to him with a smirk that smooths out when he actually looks at him. "You okay?"
"Yeah?" Steve says, covering his mouth when he can't hold back a yawn. "Just tired."
"You didn't have to make us lunch," Hopper says, his forehead creased. Steve holds his plate tighter. "We would have managed."
"It's fine." Steve focuses on picking up the first half of his sandwich. All he did was yawn. It's not a big deal.
"Mhmm." Hopper and El exchange a look but Steve does his best to ignore them and eat.
He's finished the half in his hand when his head starts to tip back against the top of the couch. Keeping his eyes open is a struggle with the way his eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. He blinks in confusion when his lap is suddenly lighter, before he sees El taking his plate.
"I'm not done," he says around another yawn.
"Yes you are."
He can't tell if Hopper is annoyed or amused. It would be easier if Steve could focus on his face, but his eyes aren't cooperating. Hopper grabs his legs, maneuvering them until Steve is stretched out across the couch. Someone lifts his head long enough to set a pillow under it and something brushes through his hair. It feels nice. Steve pushes into it with a tired hum before he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, the world outside of the windows has gone dark. Steve blinks tacky eyes in confusion while he tries to remember what day it is. When did he—right, Hopper asked him to get food. He vaguely remembers eating part of his sandwich, but it's all pretty hazy after that. He has no idea how long he's been sleeping, but he must have been more tired than he thought if neither of them moving around managed to wake him up.
"Feeling better?"
Steve tilts his head without lifting it off the pillow. It's soft and he doesn't want to move. Hopper is watching him from the armchair, arms crossed over his chest. His voice is mostly even, but he looks a little annoyed. Swallowing, Steve pushes himself up on one elbow.
"I'm fine," he says, holding back a yawn. If he closed his eyes, he's sure he could sleep the rest of the night through. "Time's it?"
"Not late. 'Bout eight o'clock."
"What, really? It's been," he tries to do the counting in his head but he's still fuzzy.
"Seven hours, yeah. Must have needed it."
"The kids kept me up pretty late." Steve rubs his eyes. "Guess it's about time to head home."
Any other time Steve would think nothing of staying but Hopper doesn't look happy. Steve would rather not overstay his welcome any more than he already has.
"You're not going anywhere but to bed," Hopper tells him. "You can take mine."
"Wha—No, I'm. I can't take your bed."
"You can and you will." Hopper scrubs his fingers through his beard. His face softens as he sighs. "I wouldn't have asked for your help today if I'd known you were up so late."
"I know," Steve says, sitting the rest of the way up. "It's not a big deal."
"It's not—" Hopper cuts himself off and shakes his head. When he looks at Steve this time, he offers a small smile. "Thank you for shopping and making lunch. We really appreciate it. Especially when you were tired."
Steve eyes him warily, wondering where the change in tone is coming from. "You're welcome…"
"I would also appreciate it if you stayed here tonight so I don't have to worry about you falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into a tree. Give me some peace of mind, okay?"
Still confused over the way Hopper has shrugged off his annoyance, Steve nods. His body is heavy and he knows it won't take much for him to fall back asleep when he tries. "I can sleep on the couch, though."
"Fine," Hopper says with a nod. Steve gets the distinct impression that Hopper feels like he's won something here. He can't find it in him to worry about what that is now that he knows Hopper isn't mad. As Steve lays back down, Hopper pushes out of the chair. He expects Hopper to head to bed himself—it occurs to him in this moment that El isn't here and Steve hopes she's not annoyed about losing out on the couch for most of the day—but he doesn't. Once Steve's head has hit the pillow, Hopper is there rearranging his blanket until it covers him from his shoulders down. Steve holds his breath. He can't remember the last time anyone tucked him into bed.
"Get some sleep," Hopper says and Steve nods. He listens for Hopper's footsteps after he closes his eyes. He's surprised again when he feels Hopper brush some hair off his forehead, lingering there for a moment. "Night, kid."
Steve smiles, burying his face further into the pillow. His whole body feels light and warm and only some of it has to do with the blanket tucked around him.