haplesshairpile | 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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“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."

for hopper

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