Chapter Text
It had been six hours since the Upside Down had been destroyed.
Four of those hours Steve had spent in military custody, until they released him under vague pretenses with instructions to go straight home and not leave until given the all clear. When he emerged from the interrogation room, he found the party slowly reconstituting in the lobby of the ramshackle temporary building. Max appeared as well, much to his surprise. Joyce was last out with directives from Hopper to go without him. The children would be returned to their homes by the military.
They piled into the van, Steve at the wheel. He first went to the Wheeler house, the closest to the MAC-Z, and was surprised when Nancy told him to wait five minutes as Mike, Holly, Will, Jonathan, Joyce, and she exited the vehicle. They were back in three, duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Steve sighed, remembering the directive to go straight home and stay put. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time they disobeyed the military, would it?
They repeated this three more times, with everyone taking only as much time as it took to collect their belongings, convince their parents to let them leave, and hop back in the van. They finally concluded at the Harrington house, where everyone piled out, the early morning still pitch black.
There was an unspoken agreement as they divided among the bedrooms and bathrooms not to discuss what had just occurred. Topics of conversation remained detached, practical. I didn’t bring shampoo, can I use yours? Do you need to use the bathroom before I shower? Steve categorically rejected anyone offering to sleep on the couch (though Jonathan offered at least three times), setting up the girls in the master suite, the boys in his old room, and Joyce in the guest room. He knew that Lucas and Max would sneak out to be together, and Will would end up bunking with his mom, and more likely than not, Robin would end up in the living room with him. But the organization was nice. The place to settle was nice.
The downstairs hallway closet housed the spare linens, more than Steve could ever fathom needing. He had a private theory that all of the neglected excess in his home–the twelve-seater dining table, the industrial-sized pots, and, in this case, the dozen extra pillows, duvets, and sheet sets–were all a spiteful ploy by his mother to waste his father’s money. It came off instead as a hollow attempt to build a home. He was standing at the closet, collecting sheets and blankets for the couch, when Lucas shoulder-checked him.
“Jesus, Sinclair, I thought you quit sports?”
“My power comes from within.” He began collecting blankets and pillows.
“Hey–I already put what you needed in the–”
Lucas walked off toward the living room, paying Steve no mind.
He rolled his eyes and was taking down a pillow when Robin appeared. “Do you have, like, an extra mattress or something? Or maybe a really fluffy duvet?”
Steve paused. “I–no, but–”
“He said no,” she shouted down the hall, then reached past him for another comforter and walked away.
“Jesus, you’d think it wasn’t my house,” he muttered under his breath as he made his way back down the hall to the living room once more.
Only to find the girls laying down blankets on the floor. Lucas and Mike were arguing as they maneuvered a mattress down the staircase.
“What is happening here?” Steve demanded.
“We’re making a pallet,” Robin answered, clicking her tongue on the t.
Nancy looked at him, that goddamned coy smile on her face, and shrugged. “We just thought it would be nice to stay together tonight.”
Dustin bounced into the living room just then. Steve leveled him with a hard stare. “Sure, as long as no one snores.”
Dustin smiled innocently. “As long as someone provides me with a firm pillow, I don’t make a peep.”
They slept in a pile. No one took the couch.
–
It was only an hour or so later when Steve awoke, sweating, the vestiges of the nightmare that had chased him from sleep dispersing. He kept his eyes shut, hoping perhaps he could fall back asleep, but his body was coming back online. He could feel his arm wedged between him and the floor, feel Robin’s elbow digging into his back. The thin pallet did very little to protect against the hardwood floor. So he let his eyes slip open. The space behind him was cold, which was odd because he was sure he had fallen asleep crammed between Dustin and Robin. He rolled over slightly to see Dustin’s spot empty. Everyone else slept on as he quietly rose.
The sky was a soft, pre-dawn lilac through the sliding doors. Through them, Steve could see Dustin on a lounge chair in the backyard, staring out at the woods. He slipped through the doors as quietly as possible, suppressing a shiver at the November morning air. His stomach dropped when he realized Dustin was speaking quietly to himself. “Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to eavesdrop.
“Oh, hey,” Dustin replied, peering around the back of the chair as Steve came to sit in the chair next to him.
“How long have you been awake?”
“I don’t know, maybe half an hour.”
Steve hummed as he put his feet up on the lounge chair and laced his hands behind his head. “You sleep okay?”
Dustin bobbled his head from side to side. “As well as someone can after whatever that was.” His face went stony, and Steve could guess at what Dustin was reliving. El.
"Who, uh, were you talking to?" Steve wasn't sure he should ask but after everything...
"Eddie," Dustin answered nonchalantly. Then, perhaps realizing how odd that sounded, added, "It's just something I do sometimes. When I'm thinking about him."
They were both silent for a moment, the sun beginning to peep up over the tall trees of the backyard. Steve stole a glance at Dustin, who had his eyes closed now, like he might steal a few more minutes of sleep. The sight of the boy, safe and sound at last, sent a pang of something through Steve. Tears stung his eyes. He hadn’t cried in so long–not since his parents called to tell him he was on his own in the quarantine. Even then, he wasn’t sure why he’d cried. He’d been without them most of his life. But Dustin, and Robin, and all the people in his house–
“Hey.” It came out tight, and he cleared his throat.
Dustin cracked his eyes open at him. “What?”
“I’m really glad you’re okay.”
A small smile softened Dustin’s face. “Likewise.”
“I, uh,” Steve looked out toward the trees, trying to hide his watering eyes. “I think I get how you were feeling now. When that arm or leg or whatever of the Mindflayer was coming down on top of you, I—I have never felt so helpless.” The memory was still sharp in his mind’s eye: Dustin on the ground fifteen feet away, hands raised, screaming. Steve shouting his name, feet losing purchase in the sand as he tried to run towards Dustin. Knowing he couldn’t make it. Knowing he’d be too late. Steve ran a sweaty palm through his hair. “It’s always been my job to look after you guys, and I always felt like I could do it. But in that moment, I couldn’t do anything, and if you—” He had to stop again, take a deep breath. “I would never forgive myself. So I get it, Dustin. And I’m sorry for making you feel like that for so long.” Finally, he cast a glance at the boy.
Dustin was crying.
It was a quiet sort of weeping, the kid clearly trying not to draw attention to himself. It broke Steve’s heart. It demanded action.
Steve stood, tapping Dustin’s shoulder. “Scoot.” Dustin did, not looking at him, and Steve sidled up beside him, pulling him into a hug. Dustin’s head fell against Steve’s chest, and Steve tucked the curls under his chin. They sat there like that for a few moments, both sniffling, the horrors of the last few years and the last twelve hours swirling around them.
Warmth was swelling in Steve’s chest. Sitting there, holding Dustin, was the safest he had felt in ages. It was over. It was over.
“We’re gonna be okay,” Steve said quietly.
“How do you know?”
Steve paused for a moment, considering. “Because I know you.”
Dustin squeezed him.
The sun peeked above the trees.
A new day, and a new world, began.