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The call comes in at six in the morning. On instinct, Steve shoots awake and scrambles for the phone. His parents are home, but no one calls here for them. If one of Steve’s friends wakes them up… He answers a little groggy and irritated. Once the wobbly voice over the line comes in, he’s wide awake and on the move.
“Just- just be there. I- I don't want-” Sarah’s words come stilted with an anxious tremble.
Steve has the phone between his ear and shoulder. He dances around the coiled cord as he hops to pull his jeans up.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures her softly, “I’ll be there. You don't have to worry-”
“I’m not,” she sighs, “About me, anyway. It’s… her. I want to make sure someone is here for her.”
Steve’s stomach twists. Her. The baby, she means. The one she won't help Steve name. The one she gave him all the sonogram pictures of, keeping none for herself. At least she’s graduated from saying it. That was killing Steve.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there,” he promises.
They bid each other goodbye and Steve finishes throwing on his clothes. He ends up in a pair of jeans from two days ago that he left on the floor and a rumpled Hawkins High Class of ‘85 hoodie. By the time he’s half skipping down the hallway to the entry, pulling his shoes on as he goes, his parents wake up. He looks up at where they stand on the stairs, hovering above him like the blade of a guillotine. Right now, Steve doesn't care if there's a basket ready to catch his head. He has a daughter to meet. His heart races in anticipation at the thought.
“Where are you going?” His father asks dryly.
Steve glances over his shoulder at the sky through the door windows. Early sunlight reaches through as if it's attempting to grab Steve and drag him to the hospital.
“Hospital- Sarah called,” Steve informs them as he finishes tying his shoes.
His father makes an unsatisfied hm. He stares at Steve down his strong nose, pins him to the floor with cold eyes, and frowns.
“Do you need-” His mother begins.
“No, Martha,” his father chides, “He’s a man. He doesn't need anything from us. Even if he did, he’s made his decision.”
Steve’s nostrils flare. His eyes shoot to his mother. He doesn't expect anything, but he still kind of hopes. He hopes she’ll end up caring enough to fight for him, for her granddaughter, now that push has come to shove. Now that the months of threats and fights have come to a head crowning in Roann General Hospital. She doesn't. She simply exhales through her nose, fixes a nice neutral expression onto her face, and nods curtly in agreement with his father. Bile rises to the back of Steve’s throat, but he tries to push it down. He knew it would be like this. He knew not to want for anything else. Yet, here he is, disappointed in his parents- not for the first time, but certainly for the last.
“Yeah, you’re right. I have made my decision,” Steve huffs and stands fully.
He snatches his keys from the dish on the table by the door.
“Steven,” his father’s stern voice grabs hold of him by the throat.
He uses a tone that Steve knows too well. It’s usually followed by a rather unpleasant scene. A scene that Steve won't let unfold today. He has places to be. With the promise of his daughter’s imminent arrival, he isn't afraid of John Harrington anymore. Not for himself, anyways.
“Yeah?” Steve sighs impatiently.
“You’ll never be able to do this on your own,” his father tells him as if he were sharing the fact that the sky is blue.
Ice drips down Steve’s spine. His eyes can't stay still on his father’s serious expression. It's like the hardwood beneath his feet just turned into choppy waters and Steve is a sailor lost at sea. It isn't like he hasn't had the thought, the doubt, the past nine months. Every day has been filled to the brim with it. Still, even in the face of all that, he knows one thing. He has to do more than his parents did.
“I have to try,” he states plainly.
His father lets out a dark chuckle.
“Is that what you think parenthood is? Simply trying,” he scoffs, “You aren't ready for this. Clearly, since you’re already making the worst decisions you could as a parent. Choosing to be single, to go off on your own, unable to support yourself. You’re naive if you think you have a chance, Steven. You’ll be back before it leaves the hospital. Alone.”
There’s that word again. It. Months of it swirl around in Steve’s head as his father’s words mingle. His hands begin to tremble. He can feel the words sink in, find a home deep in his skin with no plans to leave for the next decade at least. Steve may end up being a shit father. He may not know what he's doing or how he's going to do it. He may even believe his father that he isn't ready for this. How could he be? He’s seventeen for Christ's sake. Yet, that small two-letter word burns behind his eyes.
“She,” he states through grit teeth.
“Excuse me?”
“Not it, she. She is your granddaughter,” he snaps.
His father’s nostrils flare.
“Tell me, does she even have a name? Have you and her mother- ah, yes, right, she won't have a mother.”
Steve takes a shaky breath. He can feel the seconds ticking by until they're minutes out the window. Minutes he could be spending going to his daughter, but he's instead stuck wasting here on his father. His chest tightens as he holds in a scream. This is the last thing he wants to be doing right now.
“You don't- Just because we won't be together doesn't mean Sarah won't help,” he snarls, knowing the lack of truth in his words.
That was the whole deal. Sarah won't help. Steve is on his own. As those thoughts swirl he suddenly isn't sure he’ll be able to do this. Panic grips his throat. He needs to get out of here before his father wins and the fear traps him in his bed once more. No, his daughter needs him. It’s about to be her first day on this planet. Steve will stop at nothing to make sure this world greets her with all the tenderness she deserves.
“Help? Do you hear yourself? You’re asking to ruin this child-”
“And what did you do?” Steve demands, cutting his father off for the first time in his life.
Steve half expects him to toss his mother out of the way and barrel after Steve. Instead, his face turns cold, something even scarier. The only thing worse than John Harrington violent is John Harrington calm.
“What?” His father asks slowly, the single world dripping in venom.
“If I’m asking to ruin her by being there for her and loving her and fucking doing my best then- then what did you do? I could fuck up a million different ways in the next twenty minutes and I would still be doing a better job than you did,” Steve bites, years of resentment breaching a dam that had been reinforced by steel.
His father watches him for a few moments. Each beat passes at a more painfully slow pace than the last. Finally, he lets out a single exhaled laugh that comes out more like a hmph .
“Well, I guess we’ll see about that, won't we?” He sneers.
“Yeah, I guess we will.”
Steve leaves with a slam of the door and races to his car. He's wasted enough time. Thankfully, traffic is forgiving. By the time he gets there, Sarah is in a room with her parents. They regard Steve with polite, but clearly forced, smiles. It's been no secret how they feel about him. He’s the no-good Harrington boy that tricked their poor innocent daughter into bed and knocked her up. Never mind that it was Sarah that started dragging him upstairs at that party. It’s fine, he can play that role if that's what Sarah needs from him. He’s made her life hard enough as it is.
“Hey, sorry I would've been here sooner, but my parents stopped me and-”
“Steve,” Sarah interrupts plainly, “it’s fine. Nothing’s happened yet.”
She gestures to her perfectly round middle where his daughter is still patiently waiting to be let out. Sarah groans, clamping her eyes shut and gripping the blanket until the wave of pain passes. Her bright red curls are pulled back sloppily. What whisps and strands hang out are glued to her face by sweat. Okay, maybe his daughter isn't waiting patiently, she’s definitely making her wait known.
“Right,” Steve nods, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? Have you been given any medicine? I can find a nurse-”
“Steve,” Sarah interrupts once more, sounding agitated, “Just- Go wait. They’ll bring you to see i- her when it's done with.”
An unpleasant roil of Steve’s stomach kicks up.
“You… You don't want me in here? I- I can stay out of the way,” He offers sounding so much more meek than he’s like.
Sarah’s dad’s eyes are burning into the side of his face. Steve does his best to ignore it. It's not about them today. It’s not about Sarah and Steve. It’s about the baby that's trying to be born despite her mother’s best efforts.
“It’s just gonna be gross. Besides, don't you wanna tell like… Robin or something?”
Steve sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He attempts to steel himself over, to pretend like this is perfectly fine. It doesn't work, but no one acknowledges the dejected nature of his nod. They don't comment on the slump of his shoulders as he stalks out of the room. He finds the nearest waiting room and locates a pay phone in the far corner. When he leans against it and pulls out his wallet he almost expects a fly to buzz out of the pathetically empty folds.
He manages to fish out a couple of dull quarters and pop them into the phone. There's a telltale clink of the quarters being accepted and a light clunk of them being swallowed. A voice tells him how many minutes he has and he punches in Robin’s number. They haven't been friends long, but she's about the only friend he really has at this point. The only one he’d care to wake up and tell about this at least. He can wait to tell the kids when the baby is actually here. None of the other assholes he’s called friends the better part of his teen years give a fuck about this part of Steve's life. No, to them Princess Steve is ruining their lives and stealing away the life of the party. Steve couldn't be more relieved about it. It’s the excuse he needs to cut them off completely. He was waiting for graduation for that originally.
“Yellow?” Richard Buckley answers pleasantly despite the early hours.
The Buckleys are early risers. Something about working a farm that shrunk to a garden when they moved to Hawkins. Still, they grow most of what they eat. The grocery store is reserved for seasonings and treats.
“Hey, Rich, is Rob awake?”
“Steve! Boy, you’re sure up early. Let me go check for ya,” Richard answers brightly.
There are a few moments of silence before Richard’s voice is back.
“You’ll have her in a minute, she’s brushing her teeth. You alright? You sound flustered.”
“Y- yeah, I’m good. I’m at the hospital with Sarah. She’s in labor,” he informs him awkwardly, the words not feeling quite real leaving his lips.
“Oh! Congrats! Do you need us to bring you anything? Melissa just finished this batch of fermented soy water-”
“No- no, that’s okay, Rich, really,” Steve is quick to deny one of Robin’s mom’s fresh concoctions, “Thanks, though. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Steve. Ah- here’s Robbie. While I have you, happy birthday! Alright, Robbie is swatting at me, here-” Richard’s voice is cut off by the phone changing hands.
His words ring in Steve’s ear like a gong. Happy birthday. Shit, it is his birthday, isn't it? He hadn't even thought about it. Somehow, Richard Buckley has despite only knowing Steve for a couple of weeks.
“My dad said Sarah is in labor- how long? How close is she? Did she already give birth? Oh, god, ew, now I’m picturing that-” Robin jumps right into a ramble.
“Rob,” Steve laughs for the first time all morning, “No, she hasn't given birth yet. I haven't been here that long, I just… I’m in the waiting room and I figured I’d let you know. Y’know, 'cause I’ll need you to cover my shift.”
He knows if she were here that last line would have earned him a punch. He smiles a little thinking about it. Robin rolling her eyes is practically audible through the phone.
“You know we don't get scheduled on our birthdays, dingus. Give me thirty and I’ll have my dad drop me off,” she tells him.
“You really don't have to-”
“Don't even try it, Steven. Today is your birthday and you’re in a hospital waiting for your child to be born. Wait- why are you in the waiting room? Shouldn't you, like, be where the action is?” She realizes as she speaks.
“I tried, but Sarah-”
“Say no more,” Robin sighs.
Steve swears he hears another eye roll.
“It’s not her fault,” Steve tries to defend Sarah to Robin for the umpteenth time.
“She’s acting like you did this to her, not with her. It takes two to make a baby, if I’m not mistaken. You’re only one person. Don't defend her right now,” Robin argues.
Steve sighs, signaling his defeat. He won't have this argument today of all days, here of all places.
“I’ll be there soon,” Robin tells him then the line goes dead.
True to her word, Robin shows up a little less than thirty minutes later. She has her bookbag on and a medium-sized gift bag in one hand. Steve stands to greet her and accepts her in a tight hug. Once they're apart, she’s thrusting the bag at him.
“It’s from my mom, for the baby,” she informs him before sitting in the chair next to where he was.
Steve sits back down slowly and peers in the sparkly bag. He has to move some yellow tissue paper, but then he finds it. A soft little blanket weaved with pastel rainbow yarn, lovingly made. Emotions well up in Steve’s chest as he takes it in. The blanket makes reality hit so much harder. Steve is about to be a dad. He has the baby blanket to prove it.
The blanket is soft when he brings it to his cheek to feel. He smiles at the material for a moment longer before looking at Robin once more. She watches him with a small smile.
“Tell her,” Steve’s voice comes out hoarse prompting him to clear his throat, “Tell her I said thank you. It’s perfect.”
After that Robin begins pulling all sorts of things out of her bookbag. Card games, snacks, water, a sketchbook, and even a little cupcake in a single plastic grocery store container. Steve gives Robin another tight squeeze at that. They’re in the middle of a game of rummy when the nurse calls his name. He’s up so fast Robin is left playing an impromptu game of 52 pick-up.
He’s led down a few brightly lit hallways that smell of sanitizer and residual cigarette smoke from the waiting room. Finally, they get to a great big window that looks into an even bigger room. Nurses flit about in different colors and patterned scrubs. They carry newborns in need of feeding, or changing, or cleaning to welcome them into the world. Amongst all the flurry and fuss, are the little cradles. Each holds a bundle of blankets topped with a little hat. Steve’s eyes search frantically until he finds her. Right in the middle, as if she’s being presented on center stage for all to see and prepare themselves for.
Steve's breath catches in his throat. All sounds fall away. There's a card tucked into the front of the cradle in a plastic sleeve. Baby Girl Harrington, Time of Arrival: 8:40 AM, Weight: 7lbs 3oz, Length: 21in. Tears begin to blur his vision as he really takes her in. Right now, she’s just a tiny face sticking out of a teddy bear pattern blanket. Steve swears it's the most perfect little face he’s ever seen. Two soft eyelids are closed and painted with light veins, a small button nose sits right in the center, and a pair of tiny plump lips seem to almost pout. It’s like she’s annoyed that she has to wait for him. He’s annoyed at himself that she's waiting.
“Do you want to come meet her?” The nurse asks, jostling him back into the reality of the hospital.
He quickly wipes the tears he can feel streaming silently down his face and nods.
“Yeah- God, yes, please,” he answers, not caring if he sounds crazy or desperate.
He’s led into the nursery and sat in a cushy chair with a movable arm that he's pretty sure is for nursing. Then she's there, being handed off to him gently. He doesn't have to be told how to hold her. It's something he's been obsessively reading about- terrified of accidentally hurting her once she was here. If just seeing her through the glass was that world stopping, it had nothing on holding her.
Steve sits there, ignoring the hospital around him. He focuses on the warm weight in his arms. The peacefully sleeping face of his daughter. His perfect, wonderful, beautiful daughter. It doesn't even register that he's crying again until a tear falls onto her forehead. Carefully, he wipes it away with his thumb. She's so small his thumb practically reaches across her whole forehead.
He unwraps her just enough to find her hands. Steve’s never held hands so small and tender. He counts each finger, making sure they're all there, nearly sobbing with each one. Then he finds her toes and repeats the process of making sure she's all there. She's there and she's healthy and she's in his arms and Steve is so fucking happy . The pink hospital band around her ankle matches the one on his wrist, signaling to everyone that this one is his and his alone. His thumb skirts over her soft warm cheek some more.
“Hey, baby,” he whispers, “it’s me. I- I’m your daddy.”
She seems to curl up more as if getting comfortable now that it's been confirmed he’s there. His heart swells feeling her move. She's real and she's here and she's his.
“I’m sorry you don't have a name yet, but I promise I’ll find you a good one. One you'll really like, one that fits you,” he promises, “and- and I’m sorry it’s just us, but we’ll figure it out, yeah? We’ll figure it out together. Who knows, maybe one day it won't just be us anymore, but for now… We’ll be okay. I promise, we’ll be okay.”
Steve inhales shakily as he continues to gaze down at his daughter. He’s not sure if he's allowed to make the call, but he's pretty positive he won the baby lottery just by looking at her. He lifts up the little knit cap the nurses put on her. He sees a thin layer of red and chuckles.
“Figures you’d end up lookin’ more like her than me,” he sighs, “It's alright, I guess she did the hard part. It’s only fair.”
Another minute passes of him just looking at her. He wants her to crack her eyes open so badly. Just for a second to reveal their color. He wants to know everything about her he can until she's big enough to tell him herself. God, he hopes she likes him.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, baby, I’m pretty fucking scared right now. You terrify me, but I’m so excited to be your daddy. I won't fuck this up, I swear. I’m going to do everything,” he pauses as his voice cracks to collect himself and try again, “I’m going to do everything to make sure you know how much I love you, okay? You won't spend one day, not one day, wondering if I love you. I love you so, so much. You don't even have to do anything, I’m already so proud of you just for being here.”
Tears are streaming down his face again now. He refuses to sob, not wanting to jostle her. A handful of minutes pass where he just watches her exist in his arms. To his right, someone clears their throat softly. It takes a massive amount of effort to drag his eyes away from his daughter. Sarah’s mom stands not too far away. Close enough that Steve is sure she heard whatever part she was here for. She’s a tall woman with red hair of her own, but hers has been dulled by age. Brilliant blue eyes take in Steve and his daughter cautiously.
“Oh, did you want to hold her?” He asks unsure, knowing it’ll take a nuclear disaster to pry this baby from his arms right now.
Even then, he's not sure that would be enough to separate him from his baby. Sarah’s mom shakes her head lightly.
“No, it's probably better I don't. I’m sorry, Steve, for how Sarah has been. I know that this isn't ideal for anyone, but I wanted to thank you,” she says, her voice a tad musical.
“Thank me?” Steve furrows his brows.
“For taking responsibility. I feel a lot better knowing she’ll be with you,” her eyes gesture down to the baby, “I think you’re going to do just fine.”
Steve feels his lip begin to tremble. His inhale is ugly and stunted thanks to the emotion he's holding back. Sarah’s mom offers him a small smile. Something to show that she doesn't hate Steve the way he assumed she did.
“Thank you, Mrs. Collins, it really means a lot,” he rasps.
“You're holding my granddaughter. You can call me Beatrice,” she chuckles.
Steve lets out a wet chuckle of his own.
“Thank you, Beatrice.”
She nods. With one last look at the baby in Steve’s arms, she leaves. He gets another moment alone with his daughter. How about Beatrice? He thinks before they're interrupted again. This time it's by the nurse that brought him here. She’s on the younger side with a kind face, and slick black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wears a sweet smile, the kind that makes him feel like she isn't judging him for his age as he holds his baby.
“How’re you doing, Dad?” She checks.
Steve can't help his smile. Dad. That's him now.
“Good, I think. I- I don't know when I’m supposed to feed her or change her or- or too much of anything really,” he admits.
“That's okay, I’d be more surprised if you did have a clue,” she chuckles, “I’m here to help. We see our fair share of teen mothers through here, but… you’re my first teen father. I’m guessing your parents aren't going to be much help?”
Her eyes flicker around, searching for any sign of waiting grandparents. Steve smiles tightly and shakes his head. The nurse closes her eyes and lets out a sigh through her nose before shaking her own head.
“You’re not the first teen parent where that's the case either,” she tells him sadly, “I’ll come back over when it's time to feed her and we’ll start there, okay? By the time you two are home, you’ll be a pro.”
Steve isn't so sure about that, but he's so grateful he's willing to believe her. He could kiss the ground she's walking on even if she is only doing her job. Any kind of guidance is more than Steve thought he’d get.
“Thank you so much, Nurse…,” he trails off, searching for a name badge.
“You can just call me Lynn. My full name is a mouthful,” she waves him off.
“Jacqueline is not a mouthful,” another nurse snorts as she goes by.
Nurse Lynn pinches the other nurse’s side as she goes, earning her a little squeal. They both laugh.
“It’s more of a mouthful than Lynn, that's for sure,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she walks away to do her job.
Steve looks back down at the perfect example of a human in his arms. He really considers her.
“Beatrice,” he tests out.
It feels… okay. It doesn't quite feel like her though. He can't look at her and see a Beatrice.
“Jacqueline,” he whispers.
She stirs in his arms for a moment. Then, for the very first time, Steve meets his daughter’s eyes. They're impossibly dark, basically black. Yep, she's gonna look just like Sarah, alright. That's a sucker punch to the gut he’ll have to deal with. She blinks for a moment as if focusing her eyes, which Steve is pretty sure isn't possible at mere hours old. His face breaks into a smile. That felt like all the answer he needed. She’s definitely Jacqueline. Although, the more he thinks it the more he decides that kind of is a mouthful for constant use. They’ll come up with a nickname. That's not important to him right now. As her eyes flutter close once more it clicks.
“Welcome to the world, Jaqueline Beatrice Harrington. I love you the mostest.”