Chapter Text
Steve was fuming as he stepped out from the cab onto the gritty earth. He felt as if there were actual storm clouds raging around the crown of his head. He tried not to look like a petulant child as he yanked his duffel bags out of the trunk and looked up at the sign above him: Forest Hills Ranch. His father had arranged with the owner, Wayne Munson, for Steve to work as a ranch hand all summer—here in middle-of-nowhere, Wyoming. Steve thought getting dragged into hell sounded more enjoyable.
Steve may not have wanted to be there, but he wanted to be home with his parents even less. They’d come home suddenly, spurred by a call from an outrageously nosy neighbor who had spotted their son doing the unthinkable: kissing what seemed to be a boy in the doorway of the Harrington house. Steve could’ve smacked himself for his thoughtlessness that morning; the boy hadn’t even been someone he was serious about. He’d recently come to the realization—thanks to the help of his best friend, Robin—that he was bisexual, and he’d been trying to explore that part of himself. He was so used to bringing girls home, he hadn’t even considered the neighbors kept eyes on his comings and goings. Stupid.
How it had taken him so long to figure it out was a mystery to him, especially when he spent at least fifty percent of his time with a raging lesbian. He’d finally risked going to a nearby park just after sundown, where there were rumors of men like him finding each other to fool around. He’d been scared shitless and had an excuse ready in case he was caught by someone he didn’t want to be seen by, but he needed to know what it was like—that it was really something he wanted. A soft, slender boy he vaguely remembered from high school cautiously approached him in the shadows. He seemed wary that “King Steve Harrington” was cruising for dick. Steve swallowed his anxiety, turned on his signature smolder, and offered to bring him home. His charm had never failed him once, and it turned out just as true with boys. The sex had been fun—Steve had no doubts about himself afterwards—and if his father hadn’t found out by noon the next day Steve thought maybe they could have hooked up again. It was difficult, after all, to find other guys who wanted that in small town Indiana.
The lecture from his father had been a record-breaker. His parents hadn’t even called ahead, not wanting to give him the chance to find somewhere to lay low. Steve just woke up one morning to the sound of his father’s heavy footfall on the hardwood stairs—his abrasive bellow echoing throughout the too-large house. Steve’s stomach lurched, his body frozen beneath the covers. His dad busted into the bedroom, his face red and veins bulging on his neck. He was beyond pissed. Steve couldn’t manage to form a single word, his mouth hanging open in shock and his body bracing in case a blow came.
Just when I think my useless only child can’t disgrace my good name any more, our neighbor gives me a call to let me know he’s a fucking faggot.
Steve’s eyes watered involuntarily, shame pooling in the back of his throat and fear pulsing through his limbs. He willed the tears back down, hoping his father hadn’t seen. He pulled his knees up to his chest defensively. His mouth was a tight line; he couldn’t deny the accusation.
You already refuse to go to business school and are either pissing your life away at a video store or babysitting your child-friend. How on earth did you turn out such a failure of a man?
The lecture had continued for longer than Steve cared to keep track of; Gabriel Harrington excelled at tearing people to shreds and was especially adept at doing so to his son. Steve had retreated deep within himself by the end of it, any will to talk back quelled within the first few minutes. He was ripped back into himself by something his father had just said, and finally found his voice.
Wait. What did you say? Steve risked making his father repeat himself. Surely, he hadn’t heard correctly.
I’m sending you away. You’re not going to step foot in Hawkins for at least this whole summer. You’re going to work on a ranch in Wyoming. You’re going to learn how to be a real goddamn man. And when you leave there, you will enroll in business school. I am not flexible on any of these points, Stephen.
Steve couldn’t hold back a few fat tears from slipping down his cheek. His father smirked cruelly.
Yeah. That’s the kind of shit I’m hoping to knock out of you with this. Such a disappointment.
With that, he’d walked out of the room, leaving Steve reeling and still twisted up in his blankets from sleep. His father’s voice boomed from down the hallway: It’s already all set up. You leave tomorrow.
Steve let himself break then, if only for a moment. Telling Robin and Dustin was not going to be easy.
Steve hauled his duffels onto his shoulders, walking toward the largest building on the lot. Every structure was log-built, rugged and simple. Wooden fences coiled around the main areas and a group of cattle grazed behind it. A white-tipped mountain range loomed beyond the bounds of the ranch, and the land in between was made up of rolling green hills and stretches of red rock. Steve couldn’t help but think how different it was to the farmland he was used to in Indiana. It was beautiful here, and the air was deliciously crisp.
A gruff man in a black cowboy hat pulled him out of his reverie with a tobacco-colored gob of spit; it landed just close enough to startle Steve. The man cleared his throat.
“You Stephen?” His scruffy beard obscured his expression, and the hat shaded his eyes. It made Steve feel a little wary.
“Steve,” he confirmed. “Wayne?” The man nodded.
“Come inside, I’ll tell you where you’re going to stay and give you the rules of the ranch.” The man turned and disappeared into the doorway, leaving Steve to shuffle his bags around and follow.
Half an hour later, Steve walked over to the small cabin he’d be living in for the summer. It was a simple, rough building with a small porch across the front and a green metal roof. Steve wasn’t exactly picky, but he’d been living alone in that big house for so long back in Hawkins that he wasn’t sure what to expect living with other guys. Well, a guy. Most of the other ranch hands shared the only other employee cabin, apparently slightly bigger than this one with its own bathroom and a few separate rooms. Steve had been assigned to the overflow cabin with Wayne’s nephew—it was one large room with a couple of half-walls separating the spaces for their beds, and the bathroom was more of an outhouse. Steve spotted the shower from the porch; the showerhead was visible above a couple of slatted wood panels attached to the back of the building. That was going to be something to get used to.
Steve resisted the urge to knock on the door, and instead stepped right through the threshold. He cleared his throat and scanned the space—Steve figured the other boy must be out working. He set his things on the empty bed on one side of the room. He wasn’t sure how his wardrobe was going to fare in this environment. He’d brought as few of his polos as he could, but he still felt like he’d stick out like a sore thumb based on Wayne’s attire. Clearly, Gabriel Harrington’s punishment would be successful in making his son feel like a total freak. Steve gave himself a moment to fume, but he knew it wouldn’t do him much good in the long run here. He wasn’t afraid of hard labor; he’d figure out a way to make it work.
Each employee building had its own landline since everything was so spread out and the place was in the middle of nowhere to begin with. Steve had promised Robin and Dustin he’d call them to let them know he’d gotten there safe, and Wayne had given him the couple of hours before dinner to get settled in. He picked up the receiver and called Robin first. The line rang once, twice, and then her gravelly voice came through.
“Buckley residence,” she chirped, and Steve felt his chest tighten in fondness.
“Hey, dingus,” he said through a wide smile.
“Steve! Are you good, did you get there safe, what is it like? Are they nice to you, how are you feeling?” The questions tumbled out of her in a single breath. Steve laughed softly.
“Jesus, Buckley, give a guy a second,” Steve shook his head affectionately. “I got here a little bit ago, safe and sound. Still reeling from the parent stuff, but I figure the distance from them is good. I’ve only met the owner so far, haven’t gotten a good read on things yet. It’s beautiful here, though.” He glanced out of the window to a rolling meadow and the foot of the mountain in the distance. Definitely prettier than Indiana, Steve thought idly.
“Okay so, what are you doing tonight? Do they make you work right away, or do you get to chill for a while?”
“I have until dinner to get settled in. I have a roommate, but I haven’t met him yet. Bathroom is an outhouse, not sure how to feel about that. I start my training in the morning.” He tried to quell the anxiety welling up in his gut. It was going to be fine, he reminded himself.
“Steve, how on earth are you going to maintain your elaborate hair routine in an outhouse?” Robin asked dramatically. “Please tell me you’re not going to go the whole summer without the signature Harrington Hair.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“I think I’ll manage, Robin. I just wanted to tell you I’m good, give you an update. I’ve still got to call Dustin or he’s going to flip on me. I’ll call you again soon though, okay?” Steve was already feeling her absence behind his ribcage. He didn’t realize how seldom they were away from each other until he’d gotten there. Steve had never had a best friend like that before; he could tell it was going to be a particularly hard transition.
“Okay, dingus,” she said, a little sadly. She paused. “Hey, you wanna write to each other this summer? Like a soldier off to war writing back home?” She giggled.
“That might be…nice, actually. I’ll get the address for next time I call, cool? I’ll talk to you soon.”
The two said their goodbyes, and Steve dialed Dustin’s house. He picked up on the first ring.
“STEVE?” Steve lifted the phone from his ear, wincing.
“God, lower the voice, Henderson. I can hear you just fine at normal speaking volume. How’d you know it was me?”
“Nobody else ever calls here. Plus, I’ve been waiting,” He could practically hear the younger boy’s frown. “Are you alright, is it so weird there? Why did you go, anyway?” Steve held his breath at the last question. He hadn’t had much time before he left to explain the situation to Dustin—or to Robin, for that matter—and wasn’t sure how much he wanted to divulge quite yet. He knew the kid loved him, but it would kill him if his secret changed Dustin’s opinion of him. He faltered.
“It’s a little weird, I guess. It’s nice here, though. Sorry I left so suddenly, man,” Steve paused to figure out his phrasing. “My parents—well, my dad really—wanted me to do it. Diversify my resume, you know? Can’t just have the video store and babysitting forever, I guess.” Dustin was never going to buy that, he thought. Shit. Should’ve sold it better.
“Your dad sounds like an asshole,” he said after a moment. Steve couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter.
“Yeah, he is kind of an asshole, dude. It’s okay, though.” How, Steve wondered, had this nerdy little gremlin become such a big part of his life? He found himself very grateful for it.
“We miss you, me and the guys. You have to be there all summer?” he asked, incredulous.
“You guys miss me because I drive you everywhere,” Steve grinned, “But yeah, it’ll be all summer. I can call sometimes, though. And hey, Robin wanted to write letters to each other, if you want to do that too.”
Dustin agreed enthusiastically, and Steve could practically see the way he bounced on his toes as he did. He wanted to get the other boys involved too, and Steve could only imagine how it was going to look to the rest of the guys here when he started getting mail from a bunch of kids.
Steve finally managed to get Dustin off the phone with a promise to call soon with an update and the mailing address. When the phone was securely back on the hook, He slumped onto his bed and gave himself a moment—just one—to wallow. He’d only found people who made him feel like himself, who made him feel like he had some kind of family, so recently. The summer apart was one thing, but Steve was terrified of what was going to happen after that. He’d sooner be disowned than let his fucking father take him from them permanently. He breathed deeply to soothe his nerves, dispelled the image of Gabriel from the forefront of his mind. The guy didn’t deserve the time it took to think about him, Steve reminded himself.
He got up and stretched, took a closer look at the space. He checked the door before peeking around the divider to the other guy’s personal area. It was pretty much identical to his side of the room: small bed, side table with a lamp, dresser against the wall. He recognized a book that Dustin had made him read to him more than once: The Hobbit. Huh. Not exactly what he’d expected, the whole nerdy thing. A good story’s a good story though, Steve figured.
A dark glint tucked in the corner of the small space caught his eye. An electric guitar? Steve could’ve understood an acoustic, the whole cowboy-with-campfire-songs thing. This, though, looked like a rocker guitar, all dark and angular. The guy had odd taste for someone who’d grown up on a ranch. Maybe Steve wouldn’t be as out of place as he thought—or at least, wouldn’t be the only one.
There was less than an hour until dinner, so Steve walked around outside to get an idea of where everything was. His cabin was closest to the main house where Wayne had greeted him—maybe a hundred yards between the two. The other employee cabin was twice the distance in the other direction, and further still was a clump of visitor cabins. There were a few barns scattered throughout, and a section of heavy fencing where the cows could be herded into one of the larger buildings. He could see groups of cattle as well as some horses far off in the field, and a couple of ranch hands worked on repairing a broken section of fencing nearby. Steve couldn’t help but think that he was very much out of his element. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and sighed.
A shaggy dog was walking in his direction and he whistled to it, patting his leg. He’d never gotten to have a dog as a kid, but they tended to like him on the rare occasions that he was around them. The dog walked right past him without so much as a glance, disappearing behind an outbuilding. So much for that, then. Steve heard a chuckle from the main house behind him. He swallowed the slight embarrassment of being utterly ignored by the dog and turned to greet the one who’d witnessed it. A lanky boy with a wild mane of dark hair leaned against a beam of the covered porch. His jeans were dark gray, and what looked to be a band tee peeked out from his black and red flannel. Steve lifted his hand in a semblance of a wave.
“Hey, man. I’m Steve,” he greeted as he approached him.
“Don’t take the rejection too personally. He’s on the job, very focused,” the boy gestured to the dog now visible in a far part of the pasture. Steve nodded, making a noise of understanding.
“Working man, I get it. He made me doubt my charm there for a second,” he joked.
“Known for your charm, are you, new guy?” Steve might have thought it was heckling if there hadn’t been something mirthful in his brown eyes. He shrugged.
“Nah. Well, kind of, back home. I just meant that dogs usually like me. Not used to canine coworkers yet, I guess,” he gave a little grin, and saw the other guy falter for a second.
“Where is home, exactly?” his brow furrowed, as if he was trying to remember something.
“Uh, Indiana. Little town called Hawkins—” Steve paused when he saw the other boy’s eyes widen considerably.
“Not—you’re not Steve Harrington, are you?” the boy asked, incredulous. Steve nodded.
“Yeah, I’m new here, working for the summer.” Had the other guys been expecting him? This one’s reaction was making Steve ill at ease.
“I actually…I lived in Hawkins until my freshman year, when I moved here with my uncle. Eddie Munson,” he said, clearly not expecting Steve to remember him. Steve recognized the name, but not the boy’s face. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to remember little ol’ me there, Harrington.” Steve could feel the way his face furrowed, and he trained it into a neutral expression. He felt a blush rise up his neck and willed it to cool.
“No, I remember you,” Steve insisted, “Didn’t you used to play that Dungeons and Dragons game?”
“Ah, so King Steve recalls the Freaks, that’s nice. What are you doing here, anyway?” The boy wasn’t quite hostile, but Steve recoiled at the nickname. He sighed.
“I’m not as big of a dick as I was in high school, just so you know,” Steve tried to gauge the boy—Eddie’s—expression, but he was hard to read.
“Uh, got sent here by a disapproving father. I’m sure he doesn’t realize he did me a favor putting the distance between me and him,” Steve tried for bravado in his laugh, but he worried it just sounded hollow. He could feel Eddie study him, and he squirmed under his gaze; tried to keep his shoulders squared.
“Huh. Dining hall is that way,” Eddie pointed just behind the main house. “Dinner in five.”
Great. Why’d I mention dad? He probably thinks I’m a total child now. Steve was trying not to dwell on his first impression when he remembered something. Munson. That was his roommate.
Of course.