Chapter Text
PART I – Fall
September
It’s a slow Monday morning in early September when Robin makes her proposal at the Family Video Store.
“I’m not marrying you, Rob,” Steve says, nonplussed. “No offense or anything.”
“No– I never said that– I said we could totally do something like a lavender marriage.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What’s a lavender marriage?” He attempts to sort through the return bin, but mostly he stands there feeling lost. The mention of marriage at 9am on a Monday before he’s finished his coffee has thrown him for a loop.
Robin hovers over his shoulder, rubbing her fingers nervously together like a cricket rubs its legs. “It’s when a gay man and-or a gay woman get married to each other to… throw off suspicion. In this case, we’d be the ‘and’ option.”
“Because you and I are both… gay.” Steve says slowly, mouthing the last word. Giving up on the return bin to focus his attention on Robin, Steve leans back against the edge of the desk and folds his arms in front of him. He levels a stare at her. “I still don’t get it.”
“Look, you and Dustin are a thing, right?” Steve nods, unable to stop himself from stiffening automatically and shooting a glance to the front door to make sure no one’s about to enter. When he looks back at Robin, she’s eying him knowingly. “And you’re keeping that under wraps for obvious reasons. But that’s got to be hard, right? Steve Harrington, notorious lady’s man, has not been seen out with a girl in six months? The people may talk!”
Steve scoffs, but she’s hit a nerve. Robin had figured out Steve and Dustin were secretly dating within weeks of their first kiss. It had been impossible to convince her otherwise once she’d compiled enough evidence against them (“Oh so you’re telling me that the outrageous hickey you’ve been sporting for three days wasn’t administered by a known fifteen year old gay horndog with braces?”). Steve and Dustin had sworn her to secrecy, and in exchange she’d come out to Dustin to make him calm down about the slip-up.
For years now, Steve and Dustin– and since Starcourt, Robin– had been part of the Upside Down Circle of Knowledge. Only those within the circle knew about the existence of the other dimension and the monsters within it. The cardinal rules of the Circle were clear: don’t bring anyone new into the Circle, unless on pain of death. Now, Steve, Dustin, and Robin had formed their own, smaller subsidiary Circle. Robin is the only one who knows Steve and Dustin are dating, and Steve and Dustin are the only ones who know Robin is gay and now dating Vickie.
“No one cares what I do, Robin,” Steve runs an agitated hand through his hair. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Well, even if no one cares what you do, my parents really care what I do,” Robin whines. She leans down and picks up a VHS from the bin– All That Heaven Allows. Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman grace the cover, locked in a passionate embrace. She traces the lines of their faces with a finger, lost in thought. “They’ve been bugging me for years to find a boyfriend, and now that Vickie and I have just started dating, I’m worried they’re going to suspect something. My mom even said the other day she thinks I have a glow about me, and it must be a boy…”
“So what? You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for your parents’ sake?”
“Practically half of Hollywood has done it!” Robin gestures with her tape, pointing at Rock Hudson emphatically. “I can be the Rock Hudson to your Phyllis Gates!”
“I think I’m Rock in this situation, Robs,” Steve says quietly. He meant to be comedic about it, but his words fall flat. Robin looks chagrined as well.
Rock Hudson had died very publicly of AIDs just last year. As he stares at Rock’s amorous face, Steve feels the weight of fear that has been settled low in his stomach for months now churn within him. The thing he and Dustin have together is still so tender and new. There is so much they can lose.
“I don’t know, Steve, it just seems like we’re wasting a perfectly good opportunity to help each other out,” Robin continues, voice more gentle and less insistent now. “I really care about you, and I know you care about me. I’ve got one more year left of living with my parents and saving up for college, so it won’t be forever–”
“It just seems complicated,” Steve says quickly, cutting her off. “And I feel like my life is complicated enough right now.”
Robin nods, chewing her lip nervously. “Will you think about it?”
Steve turns away from her to start sorting the bin again, checking the tapes for whether or not they need to be rewound. He thinks about Dustin, who’s just started his sophomore year of high school. Dustin, who just last spring had been beaten half to death by Jason Carver, and who still can’t pretend to be straight or normal to save his life. Now, with their secret relationship, Steve has to do all the pretending for them.
“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Steve says, jamming the copy of All That Heaven Allows into the rewind machine. The VHS whirs as its two spools spin the ribbons of tape between them. He thinks about Rock and the horrible tabloids. He thinks about the small town gossip machine of Hawkins, Indiana. He thinks about all that they have to lose. “Sure, I’ll think about it,” he exhales, feeling defeated. He’s already thinking about it, much as he doesn’t want to.
Robin hugs him fiercely around the shoulders, and he untenses enough to hug her back.
“No promises, though.” He says into her hair.
That afternoon, Steve swings by Hawkins High to pick Dustin up from school. He feels a by now familiar swoop in his stomach as Dustin slings his backpack into the back seat and settles into the passenger seat beside him. They can’t kiss hello, even though every part of Steve wants to. His hand flexes on the stick shift involuntarily, but he stops himself from reaching over to touch Dustin.
Dustin doesn’t seem to notice, just continues his barrage of information about the day that started as soon as he opened the car door. Steve butts in occasionally to tease Dustin with intentionally stupid questions about his chemistry classes because he loves seeing the flush of irritation color his cheeks as he informs Steve how ridiculous and beside the point he’s being. He rises to the bait every time.
They pull into the diner’s parking lot, and when they enter, Steve sees that it’s packed with tons of other high school students with the same idea as them. They manage to snag a small table near the kitchen. Dustin’s monologue fades into the background as Steve scans around the restaurant, noticing at least three guys from the basketball team and a gaggle of senior girls.
A foot dragging up Steve’s calf brings him back to reality, and he pulls his leg back sharply, out of Dustin’s reach. “Excuse me, are you listening to me at all?” Dustin chides.
“What? Sorry, something about Lucas, right?” Steve glances around again, wondering if anyone had seen anything.
Dustin sighs dramatically. “As I was saying, Max is finally starting to hang out with us again. She joined us for lunch today, and she even told me that the trap door I’m making for Mike’s latest campaign that opens and closes automatically sounded dumb as shit!”
“Wait, she insulted your invention and that’s a good thing?” Steve says, bemused at how Dustin is beaming.
“Well, yeah! Obviously. It’s how she, like, shows love,” Dustin says patiently. “If she’s being nice it means something’s wrong. Prepare to take cover because she’s seconds away from actually tearing you to shreds.”
Steve stirs at his milkshake, unable to drink it because his stomach is churning anxiously at the thought of the dinner he’ll be having with his parents shortly.
“Anyways, it’s great to have our Zoomer back in the Party. I’m hoping we can finally convince her to join Hellfire one of these days. Maybe I can get Lucas to pop the question. I think they’re dating again,” Dustin says, gesticulating wildly with one hand.
Steve’s eyes drift to the other hand, which is tucked behind the tray of condiments on the table. He’s fiddling with the base of the sugar container.
“Back together? How can you even tell? They’re so on and off, I can never keep track.” Steve remembers during his short-lived stint at Scoops Ahoy how one day they’d be in, Lucas gallantly paying for Max’s ice cream while she rolled her eyes and blushed, and then the next day he’d be bemoaning the latest fight they’d had to Mike and Will.
Dustin slurps loudly at his milkshake, which is almost gone. “Well, they’re hanging out all the time now. Half the time we try to hang out, Lucas bails so he and Max can go off and do something secretive together.”
“Maybe they’re just really good friends,” Steve supplies.
Dustin arches an eyebrow at Steve. “Right, like you and I are just really good friends,” Dustin says, before honest-to-god winking at him. Steve would find it unbearably cute with how goofy he looks doing it, but he’s too busy looking around to see if anyone caught them.
“Dude, shut up!” Steve hisses through his teeth, leaning in.
“I’m not even saying anything! I’m just implying,” Dustin retorts, leaning in too.
“Well, don’t. And keep your voice down, Geez.”
Dustin makes a face at him, but recovers. “Well, besides that, they also share food all the time at lunch. Can I have some of your milkshake, by the way? You’ve barely had any.” Steve pushes the shake toward him. He doesn’t want it anyway. “Plus, I caught them playing footsie under the table last week.”
Dustin pauses to shovel half-melted whipped cream into his mouth. Steve looks away swallowing heavily, trying not to stare as he licks his lips clean. His eyes drift to Dustin’s hand instead, which is still lying on the table, almost patiently.
“And they keep finding excuses to touch each other. It’s pretty obvious. It’s just like how they used to be, back in 8th grade. They’re always like, play-fighting and trying to grab stuff out of each other’s hands and making sure they sit next to each other. Max practically pushed me out of my chair the other day so she could sit next to Lucas. I mean, obviously Lucas has never stopped having a thing for her. He’s basically been head over heels for years.”
The enthusiasm that’s threaded Dustin’s explanation dims, and Dustin gets quieter, looking down at his shake. Steve’s not sure what’s happened. He looks at his hand again, wishing he could reach out and touch Dustin, ask what’s suddenly eating at him.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, a new thread of anxiety weaving through him.
“Yeah, of course! Nothing’s wrong,” Dustin says brightly, looking back up at Steve. The smile that’s plastered on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes though. “So, your parents are back today, right? When do you need to leave for dinner?”
Steve groans, glancing at his watch. Time has slipped by too soon. It always does when he’s with Dustin.
“Probably in the next half hour. They like me to dress up for dinner so I need time to get you home and then get changed.”
Dustin wrinkles his nose. “Aren’t you already dressed up? You’ve got a collared shirt on.”
Steve surveys Dustin’s outfit in comparison. He’s sporting a t-shirt with some kind of science pun that flies over Steve’s head and a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt whose color clashes wildly with the t-shirt. His baseball cap proudly states: Women Want Me Fish Fear Me. Dustin picked it up this summer, cackling at how ironic it was.
“Yeah, uh…what I’m wearing is casual by my parents’ standards.”
Dustin snorts in disbelief. Steve knows Mrs. Henderson keeps a much more relaxed home. In fact, most people did. Steve had learned fairly quickly as a kid how to adapt to the homelife of his friends and girlfriends, which families were a shoes-on formal dinner type, and which ones didn’t mind if their kids sat down at the table with clothes muddy from playing outside five minutes earlier. If it was a point of pride that he could charm any set of parents except his own, well no one else needed to know that.
“How are you feeling about it?” Dustin asks.
Steve grimaces. “I’m sure they’ll say what they always say. I’m a failure, I’m working a dead-end job, complain yet again about how I didn’t get into Tech. You know, the usual.” Dustin’s hand twitches forward onto Steve’s side of the table, getting closer to where his own hand rests. He pulls his hands into his lap.
“No offense, but your parents suck,” Dustin snaps, immediately angry. “You should hear what my mom says about them.”
“Yeah well, they’re paying for your milkshakes, so maybe cool it a bit,” Steve says half-heartedly, feeling some vague impulse to defend his parents. They weren't all bad, and they did, in fact, cover a lot of his expenses. The family credit card sits heavily in the wallet in his back pocket.
“Just because they pay for stuff doesn’t mean they’re not dicks,” Dustin grumbles.
Steve makes a noise of agreement but doesn’t say anything else on the matter. He stands to leave and Dustin looks surprised, pulling his hand back across the table and into his lap, fiddling with his own fingers nervously. It was time to go.
As Steve drives Dustin home, Dustin continues to try and reassure him. It’s unsuccessful, the knot of anxiety in his stomach growing larger by the minute. Mrs. Henderson isn’t home yet when he pulls into the driveway, and Dustin lingers in the car after Steve puts it in park.
Dustin looks at Steve expectantly. “There’s no one around right now.”
“Your mom could pull in literally at any second, Dustin,” Steve reminds him. They have this conversation about once a week.
Dustin widens his eyes, trying for the world’s most obvious puppy-dog expression. It has worked in the past, but not today. Steve swallows past the lump of anxiety, wishing he could just lean forward and press his lips to Dustin’s, wishing he could let all the tension ease out of him while they trade lazy, unhurried kisses, losing themselves in the feeling. But he can’t do that. Not today. He shakes his head minutely, chewing on his lip. Dustin reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand instead. Steve wraps both hands around his, squeezing him tightly, trying to put everything he wishes he could do but can’t into it. He kneads his fingers over Dustin’s knuckles, wanting to pull his hand up and kiss each one of them. Dustin strokes his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand reassuringly. When Dustin finally leaves the car he tells Steve to give his parents the finger for him. It draws little more than a huff of laughter from Steve, but the knot of anxiety has loosened just a bit as he drives away. He brings his own hand up to his mouth, brushing his fingers over his lips, pretending they’re Dustin’s.
He steels himself to play a different game of pretend.
Dinner is a disaster.
“So Steven, tell me about how things are going with this job of yours.”
Steve stabs at the peas on his plate. The collar of his shirt feels too tight, and he wishes he wasn’t wearing a tie so he could loosen it. But his mom has always said that ties worn with unbuttoned collars are uncouth, so he doesn’t touch it. “Things are good,” he says. “Nothing much to report.”
“Well, there wouldn’t be, would there?” Danny Harrington is a tall man, handsome though graying, and he looms at the head of the table. Steve sits across from his mom and tries to ignore the way she’s looking at him. It’s a nervous, expectant look that he’s become all too familiar with. “It’s not exactly a job with much future.”
Steve chews on his steak and doesn’t say anything. He used to look forward to their biweekly dinners, but that was back when he had more exciting news to report. Back when he was still in high school and had a future in front of him. Back when he was dating someone acceptable like Nancy Wheeler.
Now that he’s been out of high school for well over a year and he still hasn’t figured out what he’s going to do next, the dinners feel more like a series of court trials. He keeps waiting for his dad to slam down the gavel and pass sentence.
“So have you gone on any dates recently, Stevie?” his mom asks, trying to change the subject. “I was at the store earlier and saw Brenda’s mother. She was asking about you. I still don’t understand why things didn’t work with her– she’s so pretty and comes from a good family, you know.”
“Yeah, I mean, we just didn’t have much in common,” Steve says weakly, staring at the steak on his plate. It’s over done and tough.
“In common? Sweetie, what does that matter?”
“Why would you expect to have things in common with a girl?” Mr. Harrington scoffs.
“That’s not what I meant,” Steve says. “I just mean we didn’t have much to talk about!” He thinks about Dustin. They don’t have much in common, and they have so much to talk about. He wishes he was sitting across from Dustin now, trading jokes and pleasant barbs.
“Son, I think you have a problem with commitment,” his dad says. Steve stiffens. Not again.
“Dan–”
“No, honey, Steven needs to hear this,” Mr. Harrington lays his hand on the table as though bracing himself. He leans forward, forcing Steve to meet his eyes. “I’m talking about committing yourself to a purpose, son. Look at me. When I was your age, I decided I wanted to be successful in business. I proposed to your mother at nineteen, we were married by twenty. I committed myself to building this life for us in the best neighborhood and with all the best things.” He gestures at the house around them, one of the nicest houses in Hawkins. “And I imagined that my son would take advantage of all these things I’ve given him to build an even better life.”
Steve’s stomach churns, and he wishes he could leave to puke but instead he’s glued to his chair, unable to move.
“I can commit,” he says, but there’s not much conviction in his voice. “I thought the whole point of working at the Family Video Store was to prove to you I can keep a job.”
“Yeah, but that’s not a real job, is it?” Mr. Harrington’s voice is cool and venomous.
“It’s real–”
“No, it’s not, Steven. And you aren’t living in the real world. Do you think that if we weren’t housing and feeding you that you’d be able to live off that job? How long do you think we can bankroll your life? We’ve been saying this is a transitional time, but what are you transitioning to?”
There is a long silence. Steve doesn’t know what to say, and his mom doesn’t seem to want to look at him anymore. Above them, the ridiculous crystal chandelier his mother had selected for the dining room hovers, glittering and hard. He wonders what it would feel like if it fell down on top of them all. At least it would end this conversation.
“Time is running out.”
“Time?” Steve’s head snaps up. Was his dad really saying what he thinks he’s saying? “I don’t– what–”
“You have until this summer to figure it out, Steven. Commit to a path. Prove to me you can get a real job and a real relationship and stop… wasting this life we’ve given you.”
He looks over at his mom, hoping she’ll say something, anything to defend him. But she’s nodding quietly instead. “You have to understand what this looks like, Stevie,” her lips quiver slightly as she speaks, but she maintains a calm composure. It’s been years since he’s seen her cry and ruin her perfect make-up. “Your dad and I are very well-respected members of the community. What am I supposed to say at the club when all my friends are talking about their sons starting their careers and earning their degrees, or their daughters getting engaged and having children? What am I supposed to say? I’m beginning to feel foolish.”
“Why can’t you just say what I’m doing? Or not say anything,” Steve tries to argue back.
“It reflects poorly on our parenting!” She says, finally raising her voice. The sharp edge to her voice cuts cleanly through Steve, and he immediately regrets saying anything. Usually he just tried to get through these conversations with minimal backtalk. It only prolonged the lecture.
“What are you even doing, son? Working a minimum wage job and hanging out with high schoolers?” His dad’s voice is low and biting.
Steve’s mom doesn’t bother to wait for his answer. “We’ve given you every opportunity available to you. And this is how you show gratitude? By squandering your chances, by falling in with the likes of the Hagans and the Perkins. Drinking? Partying? It’s disgraceful. Others out there have made more with less.”
“I’m not even friends with Tommy and Carol anymore–”
“And that’s another thing. Who are your friends? You certainly don’t bring them around. I have to hear from the ladies at the club how they see you all the time out and about with that odd little freshman, or the Buckley girl.”
His father jumps in: “I still don’t understand what happened between you and Nancy Wheeler. How could you let Jonathan Byers of all people steal her away? That family is a disgrace.”
There’s a screech as Steve pushes his chair back from the table. He excuses himself, bile rising to his throat. But before he can leave, his dad reaches out to grab his shoulder in a firm grip. “What do you say for dinner, Steven?”
“Dad–” he feels his father’s grip tighten. “Thank you, sir.”
In the hallway bathroom, Steve splashes water on his face and tries not to panic. He unbuttons his collared shirt, gulping in deep breaths. As he breathes in and out, he watches himself in the mirror, willing the panic out of his own eyes. Once he’s sure the mask has slipped back on enough, he’ll go back out there.
He just needs a little more time.