haplesshairpile | for hopper

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hopper

for hopper

Once Steve finds himself on the street outside of Maeve's building, he's at kind of a loss. He can't really go home, because Robin and Rue are at his place. Yeah, sure, it's not like they'd be pissed at him for showing up at his own home, but he doesn't want to be around a couple right now, and he doesn't want to make Rue feel like she has to leave so Steve can cry all over his best friend.

So, home isn't an option. Instead, he goes to a bar with the intention of drinking his sorrows away. Halfway through the first beer, he realizes that he's just doing what his parents and Hopper used to do, and he knows because of them that it doesn't work. It simply delays the inevitable while creating a bigger problem.

God, this newfound maturity of his is bullshit.

He finishes the beer and leaves, glancing at his watch as he does. He's pretty sure that Hopper is off duty tonight, and even though it's kind of rudely late to be showing up on Hopper's doorstep, he heads that way anyway. He's in crisis, okay? That's more important than good manners. Even if they don't talk about it, sleeping on Hopper's couch will keep him from doing anything stupid.

Steve overthinks on the entire walk, and by the time he's dragging himself miserably towards Hopper's door, his eyes are wet and red and he's pretty sure that he looks like a puppy that someone just kicked into the street, which is kind of pathetic, but whatever.

Sighing deeply, he reaches up to knock on the door and then curls his hand around the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

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At the sound of the knock, Hopper starts awake from where he's been dozing in an arm chair in the living room. It's late, the girls are both asleep in their rooms upstairs, and he'd meant to head up about an hour ago, but the movie he'd been watching, no matter how stupid, had almost been done.

So naturally he'd fallen asleep in the chair before it was over.

The knock makes his heart pound, because late night knocks are never good, something he's well aware of, but Bev and El are both asleep, he's sure of it, and when he goes to the door and pushes aside the curtain on the window beside it, he finds Steve Harrington standing there on the front step.

He looks like shit.

Hopper unlocks the door and pushes it open, nodding for Steve to follow him as he steps away.

"C'mon, kid," he says. "Come inside."

Steve is relieved when Hopper opens the door, glad that he wasn't upstairs asleep, leaving Steve to sleep on his porch like some homeless street mutt. He walks past Hopper and flings himself down onto the sofa, leaning his head against the back of it with a groan.

"Maeve and I had a fight," he says as he presses his palms against his eyes. He isn't even sure if fight is the right word for what happened. "And my apartment is currently a lesbian love nest and I just really don't want to deal with them and their annoying happiness right now."

Hopper almost asks Steve what he's done, but luckily thinks better of it at the last second. In another life, he'd offer the kid a beer, but there's no alcohol in this house anymore, easier to resist when it isn't present, and it's not like Hopper has dinner guests over, so there's no reason to keep some just in case.

Ellie wanders into the room, stretches and yawns expansively, then jumps up onto the couch beside Steve and curls up against his thigh. Dogs are good like that, Hopper thinks, as he settles back into his chair.

"What about?" he asks. A better question than his original instinct.

There's a second where Hopper looks at him funny, like maybe he's suspicious, but maybe that's just Steve projecting because he doesn't say anything like that. For a long minute, he doesn't say anything at all and Steve bites his lip as he immediately reaches out to start petting Ellie, slightly comforted by her presence.

When Hopper asks what happened, Steve winces a bit, wrinkling his nose and swallowing hard. For a moment, he isn't even sure where to begin. The whole thing seems kind of stupid, because he doesn't even want kids right now. This shouldn't even matter.

"I said something stupid," Steve sighs out, wishing again that he hadn't made that joke about their kids. Except that it wasn't really a joke at all. "I made some crack about how I hoped that our kids would be smart like her."

He looks up at Hopper and plants his elbow on the arm of the sofa, resting his temple against his fist as he steadfastly avoids Hopper's gaze because he's a little embarrassed and he's never been great at talking about he feels. Then he wonders if he would be betraying Maeve's trust somehow by talking about this, but he thinks it's okay. It's Hopper. He trusts Hopper and it's not like the guy is gonna go blog about it.

"And then she told me that she never wants to have kids. Like ever. And apparently I very much do." He sighs deeply and slides his hand through the dog's soft fur. "Someday, I mean. And I just-- it sucked to hear."

Edited 2022-08-06 07:49 (UTC)

They're kids themselves. Hopper knows Steve is saying he doesn't want kids right now, but he thinks back to when he was twenty or twenty-one and he knows he hadn't even been considering that.

But then, he'd been shipped off to Vietnam right about that time, so he figures it's not much of a shock he hadn't been thinking about starting a family. Maybe it's a good thing, that Steve has the space and capacity to do so.

"Shit," he says. "So are you mad at her or is she mad at you?"

It's a question he needs to ask so he can work out what sort of advice might be expected of him here.

"I'm not mad at her," Steve says after a moment, finally looking up at Hopper and resting his elbows on his knees once he realizes that yeah, they're doing this. They're gonna have an Adult Conversation. "I might be kind of frustrated? But that's probably on me. She might be mad at me. I said something dumb."

He'll talk to Hopper about this, but he won't say anything to him about Maeve's abortion. He knows Hopper probably wouldn't judge but that isn't information that is Steve's to share, even with someone he trusts. So no, he won't tell Hopper about his insensitive question, but it's probably not hard for him to imagine Steve saying something stupid.

"I don't even know if it was a fight," he says with a puzzled look on his face. "I told her that I needed to go, she said it was okay. I just-- I don't know. I wasn't expecting this, you know?"

"You might not have been expecting it, but people need to have these kinds of conversations if they want to make a relationship work," Hopper answers. He and Diane hadn't properly had that conversation and he hadn't realized until it was way too late that he was too afraid to be having kids.

He doesn't regret having Sara. Not for one single second. But he does wish he and Diane had at least talked about his fears and what might happen, because the worst had happened.

"Even though you're way too young to be having kids," he adds, smiling a little to let Steve know he's joking.

"Yeah, definitely agreed," Steve says with a quiet laugh, because he's well aware that he doesn't want kids any time soon. The laugh trails off into something sad and he clears his throat, jaw tensing as he looks down at his hands.

"But what if you have the conversation, and you want two completely different things?" Steve asks in a thick voice, looking up at Hopper as if desperate for an answer. "How do you make the relationship still work? I mean, I love her, but--"

He feels like he's going to cry, so he presses his palms to his eyes and swallows hard, trying to calm himself down.

That's a question Hopper doesn't have any answer for. Hell, in his life, he's never made a relationship work. If Sara hadn't died, maybe things between him and Diane would have been different, but he doesn't think so. If he really looks at his marriage, at his ex-wife, at the man he'd been, if he's honest, he doesn't think they would have lasted anyway.

"I don't know," he says. Lying to Steve now would just do them both a disservice and Hopper, while he doesn't always know what he's doing, is still trying to be a better man than he once was. The bullshit, the lies that used to come with ease, he's still working to put that all aside.

"I do know that I wish Diane and I would have talked more about having kids before we had Sara," he continues. "I wish I'd... been able to tell her why it might not have been a good idea or why I was afraid."

"If it was something like that, maybe we could talk about it," Steve replies, brow furrowing as he pulls his hands from his face. "I could like, reassure her or talk to her about it more, but it isn't like that. She just-- it seems like she just doesn't kids. And trying to change her mind would make me an asshole, right? There's just nothing I can do. I can't fix it because nothing's broken. It just-- is."

He swallows hard and slumps back against the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Hopper. "It's probably a good thing. Harrington men are notoriously bad fathers."

Steve knows that he's good with kids, but that's different than being a good parent. What the hell does he know about that, anyway?

"I really am sorry about Sara," Steve says after a quiet moment, belatedly realizing that maybe it was selfish of him to bring this up with Hopper at all. "And I'm sorry for randomly dropping this on you in the middle of the night. That's probably a dick move, but pulling those without thinking is my thing tonight, I guess."

"You're fine, kid," Hopper answers. "I'd rather you come here than wandering around or getting wasted in some shit bar where you might make an even bigger mistake."

That's something Hopper knows about very well, something he doesn't want Steve to ever have to deal with.

"Lemme ask you something," he says. "You say trying to change her mind would be pretty shitty, which it would be. But would you really want to have a family with someone you'd had to talk into it?"

“No, of course not,” Steve replies immediately, shaking his head a little. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that if she actually did want a family but she was just scared or something because—“

He pauses and looks at Hopper, unsure of how much to say, because he doesn’t want to talk about Maeve’s upbringing. It isn’t his place and while he figures it isn’t a secret, he doesn’t need to go relaying details.

“If she was scared, I could try to make her not scared and see if that helped, is all I meant. But that isn’t it,” Steve says in a thick, trembling voice. He feels so frustrated because it seems like no matter what he says, he’s the asshole. He’s not going to be mad at Maeve. He’s not going to try and change her mind. He’s just fucking sad.

“We both had shitty, lonely childhoods and I just thought we’d have this little family of our own someday, and we’d be better,” he admits, feeling deeply embarrassed as tears spill from his eyes and he has to wipe them away, not looking at Hopper at all. “I could see it in my head, how great we’d be, and now it’s all been wiped away. I feel like I should be allowed to be fucking sad.”

"Isn't that why you're here?" he asks. "To be sad away from your girl?"

Hopper is quiet then, knowing he's not the right person for any of this, but Steve chose him for some reason, so he's going to damn well try. He had fucked up his marriage, his kid, even though Diane and Sara never knew the extent of it, and now in Darrow, he's been single pretty much the whole time. Single and in love with the same woman he's loved pretty much since high school.

He's not one to emulate when it comes to relationships.

"Did you ask her why?" he asks. "Knowing there might not be an answer? She might just not want 'em, but maybe there's a reason."

"I'm here so I don't drink myself into a ditch," Steve replies in a low mumble, but that's only part of the reason. Hopper is like family to him, more like a dad than his own father ever was, and he knew that this was where he needed to be.

"She's gonna dump me and everyone will just assume that I fucked everything up," he says quietly, wiping at his eyes again. "Even you assumed that I did something wrong. I saw your face."

Steve is used to being the fuck up and hell, maybe he did fuck up here, too. Asking her about abortion was way out of line, and he realizes that now, but he wasn't trying to hurt her. He just can't seem to help it.

"She said she thinks she'd be a bad mother, which I know for a fact she wouldn't," Steve replies, sniffling and dragging the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to press them to his sore eyes. "And that she just didn't want them."

He slides his hands down and peers at Hopper with sad, wet eyes. "I didn't realize how badly I wanted to be a dad."

"We're idiots, kid, especially when it comes to the people we love," Hopper answers with a bit of a grin. "Don't take it as an insult, it's kinda just the way of the world."

Not wanting kids is a valid reason, which Hopper knows Steve will understand when he's got a little more distance from the conversation. Still, he feels for him. Being a dad has been the greatest source of pain in Hopper's life, but it's also been the greatest source of joy.

"I don't think anyone knows until they're either holding a kid or having a conversation like this," he answers. "And it's a rough way to realize either way."

“I guess so,” he admits, listening to Hopper speak and biting his lip. On the one hand, it feels stupid. “I don’t want a kid right now. Or even soon. Just… someday. It feels dumb to be sad about not getting something I don’t even want right now.”

It’s because of the daydreams that he has sometimes. His mind will wander to some vague future, him and Maeve older and sitting on a beach, holding hands while watching their kids play in the sand. A happy little family like he never had. A fantasy.

“Do you think I’d be a good dad?” Steve asks in a pathetic little voice that makes him squeeze his eyes shut tight.

Hopper has no idea what makes a good parent, not really. All he knows is that he tries really hard to be there for his girls, he tries not to judge them even when he's really fucking pissed off at them, he tries not to yell, which he isn't always successful at.

He knows, though, Steve would try all those things, too. He knows Steve would try and honestly, that's all he thinks anyone can be expected to do.

"Yeah, Steve," he says. "I think you'd make a really good dad."

It means a lot coming from Hopper and Steve has to roll his lips into his mouth for a moment, nodding a little and closing his eyes. It doesn't do much good, since a set of tears slip out anyway and he has to brush them away with the cuff of his sleeve.

"I think I would, too," he admits in a small voice, and it's kind of a big deal because Steve knows that he isn't good at a lot of things, but he thinks he'd be good at that.

"But I love her, man." That's all there is to it, really, and Steve shrugs helplessly and takes a breath. "I love her, so that's it."

Hopper can't say it'll all work out in the long run, he can't promise Steve that things will be fine for them, that Maeve might come around, that maybe it won't bother Steve so much in time. Hell, for all Hopper knows, they're wasting their time together, but he also can't know that for certain.

Shit might really just work out for them in the end. He likes to think that's something worth trying for.

"It won't always be easy," Hopper says. "Even if you love each other. But it might also be worth giving it all a go."

"She's worth it," Steve says quickly, sniffling and letting out a wry chuckle, nodding as he reaches up to thumb at his nose. "She's the most beautiful, funny, infuriating person I've ever met. She's worth it."

He swallows hard and blows out a breath, nodding again as he sits up and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers flexing as he looks up at Hopper. "Thanks, man."

That sort of sounds like how Hopper would describe Joyce and the thought makes his heart lurch a little. Most of the time he can pretend he doesn't miss her this bad, hasn't been in love with her all the time, but that's just not true.

"Yeah," he says. "Any time, kid. You wanna stay the night? I have in on good authority that couch isn't so bad to sleep on."

The authority being himself. He's fallen asleep there more times than he counts and mostly his back doesn't ache when he wakes up.

"Actually, yeah," Steve replies, relieved by the offer. "Rue's at our place and I'd rather not crash their lesbian love fest."

Honestly, they're probably in Robin's room by now. They're likely asleep, but if Steve has to hear them having sex for even a second, he might throw himself out of the window. He can't be around a happy couple right now.

He looks over at Hopper and bizarrely wishes for the guy to hug him, which is strange because that isn't something they do. That isn't really something any of the adults in his life have done, so it's kind of dumb for him to still want it. "I'm good out here, thanks."

"I'll get you a pillow and some blankets," Hopper says and pushes himself to his feet. He has to pass by the couch to go into the hall where the linen closet is, and as he goes, he lays his hand on Steve's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Then he gives it a firm pat.

"It'll be okay, kid," he says. "You've got a good head on your shoulders and she seems to be the same. You'll figured it out."

Steve tries to imagine what his father would have said in this situation. That's easy. He wouldn't have said anything because Steve never would have talked to him about it. He barely even knew that Nancy existed, and they dated for a year. He never went to his dad about personal shit.

Hopper squeezing his shoulder is a little unexpected and Steve is kind of embarrassed by the way he leans into it, looking up at Hopper with big doe eyes at the reassurance.

"Thanks," he says in a thick voice, swallowing hard as Hopper moves away. "I know that I'm not your kid or anything, but you're a good dad."

The way Steve says it makes Hopper pause and he steps back into the room to properly look at him. The words feel good, especially when he often feels like he's been a shitty dad, to Sara, to El, to Bev, but he's not thinking about himself.

"Hey," he says. "You're my kid."

Then he cuffs the back of Steve's head like he would with Eleven, ruffling his hair. It's funnier with Steve, too, who cares more about his hair than pretty much anyone Hopper knows.

When Hopper gets his attention, Steve turns his head to look up at him just in time for him to say that he considers Steve his kid. It makes him feel a little like he's been hit in his solar plexus, like his chest is too tight, and he swallows hard as his eyes burn with unshed tears.

Thankfully, Hopper messes up his hair before he can cry, and he lets out a snorting laugh as he pushes Hopper's arm away.

"Yeah, yeah. Just go get me a blanket," Steve says as he leans over to unlace his sneakers. "And don't think you're gonna tuck me in."

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