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The last time Steve remembers being excited about Christmas he was seven years old. Well, really he was six about to turn seven.

He’d spent hours poring over party invitations in Melvalds, picking out the perfect ones- dark blue with drawings of constellations on the back- to pass out to all of his classmates the day before holiday break started. The excitement had shaken in his fingers as he carefully laid each invitation on everyone’s desk, humming to himself in the otherwise silent classroom. Each invitation had been written in Steve’s best handwriting- a miniature candy cane taped to the corner- and Steve just knew that all of his friends would be so impressed.

When his birthday finally rolls around, he still hops out of bed early and rushes downstairs despite knowing that there will be nothing waiting for him under the tree. Mom and dad had already told him that the party was to be his present this year, and that’s okay. Steve doesn’t need a lot of unnecessary frivolous things; his friends are going to be coming over, and they’re going to spend four whole hours at his house with him, playing games and eating cake and watching movies, and Steve is going to be so happy.

He's too excited to do anything but wait, sitting on his knees in his favorite window nook, face pressed against the frosty glass, making his nose cold as he watches the driveway for people to start arriving. It’s snowing, sticking to the grass and pavement, and Steve has a fleeting thought that maybe they can have a snowball fight- he’s never been in one but they always look fun in the movies.

But as the snow continues to pile up and Steve starts a routine of wiping fog off the window from his breath, people don’t come. His sleeve is wet with condensation, and people don’t come.

He’s barely holding back tears as the set end time for the party arrives and he’s still kneeling on the window seat waiting, cramps twisting down his legs.

“Buck up, son,” his dad says, clapping his hand down on Steve’s shoulder on his way to the sitting room. Scotch sloshes in his tumbler. Steve’s teeth rattle together. “It’s Christmas. We went out of our way to get you everything you wanted. And Harrington men don’t cry.”

His mom is a bit gentler. She brings him a piece of cake on the china they’re not allowed to scratch and sits with him on the bench, her skirt billowing around her.

Steve pokes at the frosting, finger sinking into the purple S that he guesses was once a part of his name. “I don’t understand why no one came to my party,” he whispers. She forgot to bring him a fork.

His mom sighs. “I know it’s your birthday, baby, and that’s important to you, but it’s also Christmas,” she says, brushing hair back from his forehead. “You have to understand that of those two things, Christmas is going to be what’s important to other people. People have their own traditions and families, and they’re not going to interrupt those for you. I am sorry, love,” she says, standing up and pressing a kiss against Steve’s temple. “Now, take that into the kitchen to eat.”

It's not until a few years later when he’s staring at a Christmas card from his parents in Hawaii- the third year in a row they haven’t been home, second they forgot to tack on a happy birthday- that he finally realizes. When his mom said that Christmas is what’s important to other people, that people weren’t going to interrupt their holiday plans just for him, she was talking about herself and his dad too.

So Steve doesn’t really celebrate Christmas anymore- or his birthday for that matter.

He’s not a total grinch, though. He still goes to the mall, and the nerd store in Indianapolis, and a candy store, and a music/bookstore to carefully pick out presents for the kids and his friends. Because no matter what, Steve loves spoiling his chosen family and like hell is he going to pass up a chance to do exactly that.

He buys the kids things he just knows he’s going to regret because they’ll rope him into playing with them. He gets Robin the mahogany ukulele she’s been eyeing for months at the record store and anticipates her excited squeal that he’ll probably be able to hear in both ears for once; and he gets Eddie every book in the Lord of the Rings series he lost in the earthquake that he’ll let Eddie read to him in the quiet of the night when they’re wrapped up in bed together.

But he doesn’t involve himself in any Christmas planning. Doesn’t accept any invitation that will intrude on family time or ruin traditions carefully set in place by anyone. Instead, when Keith starts looking for someone to cover the 10-2 Christmas shift at Family Video, Steve volunteers himself.

**

They’re lounging in Eddie’s living room, spread out on the couch and passing a joint back and forth between them. How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on the little TV in the corner because Eddie had been insistent that he wanted to watch the special and Steve’s a sucker who can’t say no to anything when Eddie looks at him like that with his baby cow eyes.

Seriously, they’re basically weapons at this point, engineered specifically to destroy Steve’s willpower, which is probably why in addition to watching a children’s cartoon, Steve is currently covered in blue sharpie along his right side.

Lines run between the moles and freckles on his arm in a makeshift connect-the-dots that Eddie had affectionately referred to as making new constellations. There’s a heart in the crook of his elbow, an S E written inside it. A guitar on this thigh peeking out from the fraying gray fabric of the cutoff sweats he’s borrowing from Eddie. Three bats on his knee. A circle on his neck along with an arrow declaring “Eddie’s mouth here.”

Eddie’s currently working on sketching a d20 on Steve’s ankle, his hair dangling against the orange matted carpet as he hangs upside down to achieve the best angle. The tip of the marker scratches gently at Steve’s skin like kitten licks, pairing nicely with the buzz from the weed, giving Steve a soft floating feeling.

A burst of cold air blows in as Wayne walks through the front door, a few straggling snowflakes following behind him. Wayne spares them a glance- eyes tracking over the drawings decorating Steve’s skin and the look of concentration on Eddie’s face, tongue poking out- before hanging up his coat and toeing out of his boots, leaving them on the welcome mat next to a pair of Reeboks and blue Nike’s.

“How ya boys doin’?” Wayne asks, pulling a beer from the fridge and popping the top with the novelty bottle opener stuck on the fridge door.

“We are doing excellent, Wayne,” Eddie says, drawing the word out with a hiss in the middle. He changes position slightly and his knee bumps into Steve’s temple. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, giving Steve an affectionate bite on the calf.

Steve scratches Eddie’s stomach, fingernails lightly grazing over the exposed skin from his rucked up t-shirt. The jagged edges of a few bat bites are visible. Scarred skin raised and red, Steve carefully makes sure to keep his fingers away from those areas that he knows to be touch sensitive. Revels in the way that Eddie doesn’t even flinch when Steve gets close to them, just trusts that his boyfriend will respect the boundaries. It feels like a gift, precious and soft, like a baby bird held in his hands.

“How about you, sir,” Steve asks, watching as Wayne crosses into the living room with a slight limp, his bad knee acting up with the weather.

“Can’t complain,” Wayne shrugs. He pauses in his trek over to the armchair, stopping in front of the couch to slide the blunt from between Eddie’s lax fingers, saving the fabric from yet another burn hole. Eddie gives it up easily, smiling up lazily at his uncle when Wayne bends to ruffle his hair. “I’m home now. That’s enough for the evening.”

Wayne plops down in the armchair and takes a long drag from the joint before passing it back over to Steve- the safest option for his upholstery.

That had been a surprise to Steve- Wayne partaking in Eddie’s lunchbox supply- when he first started spending time at the Munson household, but then again a lot of things had surprised Steve about Wayne. Like the way he doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he finds Eddie and Steve snuggled up together on the couch or making out on the kitchen counter, just tells them not to leave ass prints in the butter and goes about his business.

Or the way that Wayne appears to be gruff and standoffish but is actually one of the most affectionate and warm-hearted people Steve has ever met.

The lights from the artificial silver tree in the corner reflect off the bottle when Wayne takes a sip of his beer, throwing glinting sepia tones around the room. He seems completely unmoved by Eddie’s choice in tv, and Steve accepts the fact that this is probably the norm.

“So, Steve,” Wayne says once The Grinch has cut to commercial, “should we be expecting you for Christmas?”

“Umm…” Steve stalls, completely caught off guard. He’s going to blame the weed for that.

“Oh yeah!” Eddie exclaims, arms and legs flailing as he struggles pitifully to sit up. His foot catches in the curtain behind them and he smacks his wrist into the coffee table with a crack. In the end, he gives up with a huff, half splayed over the couch and Steve; his legs are still stuck up in the air against the back of the couch, while the top half of his body is draped over Steve’s lap. “You’re totally invited over for Christmas,” he says, cradling his wrist to his chest. “I can’t believe I forgot to mention it before.”

Steve lifts Eddie’s hand from his chest, bringing it gently to his own mouth and kisses the bone where it’s already starting to turn a light pink. Eddie’s eyes droop, melting and soft, leaking with love just for Steve.  

Eddie brushes his fingers along Steve’s jaw, pausing over the pulse point in his neck, pressing into the circle that’s been specifically labeled for his mouth. Steve has no doubt that if Eddie had the energy for another flailing attempt he’d have that mouth attached to the spot right now.

“You can come over for Christmas Eve too,” Eddie is saying. “Spend the night. I’ll let you have an early peek at a present, if you know what I mean,” he waggles his eyebrows playfully, “and in the morning Wayne will make pancakes. He always makes pancakes.”

That doesn’t sound too bad. It actually sounds pretty laid back and casual. Almost like any other weekend spent at the Munson’s home. Like maybe he wouldn’t be intruding on any kind of tradition with them. Maybe, just this once, Steve could break his rule and join them for Christmas.

But then, Eddie continues on and that thought effectively goes up in smoke. “Wayne officially adopted me on Christmas.”

Wayne grunts. “Best gift I ever got,” he says, and Eddie beams at him.

And how could Steve possibly agree to come over now? How could he, with good conscious, impose on such an important anniversary for them?

It had been a hard year for Eddie and Wayne. For a period of time, Wayne hadn’t even known if his nephew- his son- would live long enough to see another Christmas, or anything ever again. He’d spent weeks strung out in a plastic hospital chair praying to a god he doesn’t believe in to save his kid. They deserve to celebrate their special day together, without the interruption of Steve.

“I really appreciate the offer, but I actually already have plans for the holiday,” Steve says. He scratches his fingers across Eddie’s scalp in the hopes of lessening the blow.

It doesn’t help much. Eddie whines high in the back of his throat, disappointed.  

“That’s alright,” Wayne says, as much to Eddie as it is to Steve. “Just know that our door’s always open and you’re welcome anytime, son.”

“I know,” Steve smiles.

And it’s not a lie. It’s not. Steve knows that he’s welcome at the Munson residence whenever, that Wayne wouldn’t ever turn him away and Eddie’s always waiting with open arms. But he also knows now that Christmas is an important day for them. A day that Steve isn’t going to insert himself into. (No matter how much he may want to.)

So, it isn’t a lie.

It’s a gift he’s giving them.

**

The holiday rush is officially in full swing at Family Video. Between kids being on break from school and desperate parents searching for anything to keep them entertained longer than five minutes, there’s hardly a moment of peace at the store.

On the bright side, though, school being out also means that Steve gets more time with Robin. Instead of morning drop offs and afternoon shifts spaced out by days alone, Steve gets full eight-hour shifts with her. Sometimes, she even comes home with him or over to the trailer, and then he gets to spend the night with two of his favorite people instead of just one.

They’re in a rare lull in customers right now, which Steve is wisely using to color sort a bag of M&Ms on the- thankfully recently cleaned- countertop. Robin’s sitting on the counter next to him, one leg resting on the linoleum, the other brushing Steve’s arm every once in awhile as she swings it back and forth. She’s eating M&Ms, stealing them from the piles Steve has so painstakingly sorted- he doesn’t even like chocolate so he really has no idea why he’s doing this, should’ve went with Skittles instead- and watching some animated Christmas special on the tv monitor.

Between her and Eddie, Steve is quickly becoming a connoisseur in all things holiday classics. He’s not complaining- not that much anyway- but after three nights in a row of watching Santa magically save Christmas, he’d like to maybe watch a regular movie instead.

“Rob, do we seriously have to keep watching this?” he asks, throwing the M&M wrapper in the little overflowing trashcan beneath the counter- they really need to take it out tonight, but oh well.

He’s not really expecting Robin to answer, and she doesn’t. Too caught up in bopping around on the counter and singing along to the song currently being acted out on screen. What she does do, though, is cut her eyes over to Steve, a clear reminder that, yeah, he’s not supposed to be talking during the musical numbers. It’s a rule that Robin takes surprisingly seriously.

Steve holds up his hands, placating and apologetic all at once, and takes a step back.

Instantly, Robin’s eyes turn a little softer, the corners of her mouth ticking up in the beginnings of a fond smile. She turns more fully on the counter so she’s facing Steve head on and starts singing the song directly to him in an off-tune serenade.

“They call me Heat Miser, whatever I touch-” she grabs Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in time with the drumbeats, “-starts to melt in my clutch. I’m too much! Ba dump bump bump.” She sings the last of the music, face flush and looking far too pleased with herself.

Her tongue is green from the stolen candy. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever loved her more.

He puts on a big show of applauding, clapping loud enough the sound echoes in the otherwise silent store. “That was wonderful. Definitely better than a muppet,” he appraises, and Robin snorts a laugh.

“Shut up,” she says, sliding down from the countertop with the grace of a kitten hopped up on catnip, giving Steve’s shoulder a playful shove.

On the tv, the show switches into a commercial about a new brand of toothpaste four out five dentists are just itching for people to try.

Interest officially lost in the tv, Robin makes her way over to the pile of returns and starts the grueling process of logging them back into the system. Technically, they should have been working on this all day long- god knows Keith’s gotten on them enough times about it- but there had been the morning rush, followed by the afternoon rush, and then some of the kids had stopped by to bother them. Not to mention the giant spider in the break room that Steve had had to keep an eye on while Robin called Nancy to come kill it for them; that had easily taken up 45 minutes of their day.

So, now they’re left with a shit ton of movies to scan in and put back on the shelf and only a small amount of time to do it in. Oh well, Steve’s working the opening shift tomorrow and it’s not like he’s going to narc on himself, so they’re pretty much in the clear.

“So,” Robin begins, picking up another movie, her face crinkling in disgust when she sees it’s Back to the Future, they never really did come around to liking that one, “am I coming over to your house on Sunday or were you planning on coming over to mine?”

He racks his brain. That’s not at all where Steve was expecting this conversation to go. “Uhh…”

Shit. Did they have plans made and Steve’s totally spacing on them right now? That has been happening a lot more recently- his bedroom mirror is covered in post-it notes, daily reminders written in Eddie’s careful print-so it’s not like it’s entirely out of the realm of possibility.

He grabs the small stack of movies Robin’s finished with so far and starts walking them around the store putting them back in their proper spots, hoping to buy himself some more time to think. But, by the time his hands are empty, Steve still has no idea what she could be referring to.

“What’s going on on Sunday?” he finally asks, slumping against the counter across from Robin in defeat.

Robin’s entire body slowly comes to a standstill, frozen except for her fingers, which are twitching against the VHS case she’s holding. The purple on her nails is severely chipped, missing entirely on some nails, and Steve makes a mental note to paint them again at their next sleep over.

“Steve,” she says, placing the tape down and turning to him with wide eyes, “Sunday is Christmas.”

Steve blinks. Once, twice. “Oh.”

No wonder everyone’s been so up his ass these last few days about what he’s doing for Christmas. The big day is finally here and they need to make sure someone is taking care of the resident pity case. No parents, big house, bigger parties, right? But what happens when everybody is already at parties of their own?

(Something that seven-year-old Steve knows intimately. That’s what.)

“Yeah, oh,” Robin is saying, unaware of the turmoil currently eating a hole in Steve’s stomach lining- he can’t believe he didn’t realize it was already that close, that he let himself be caught off guard like this. “And I kind of figured you were gonna want to spend it with me,” she finishes, words lilting up at the end, turning it into a question.

And Steve loves her. He really does. With her jean jacket filled with patches, and her hair dyed pink at the ends, and her knees covered in bandages even in the winter. But he can’t do that to her. Can’t force himself into her home or take her away from her family on Christmas.

“I, uh, I already have plans, Robbie,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose awkwardly. It’s his tell- he knows it’s his tell, chronic face toucher that he is- and Robin does too because she narrows her eyes suspiciously at him.

“You have plans. Plans without me and that I’m not aware of?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and probably missing it by a mile. It’s just that it’s unnatural to keep something from Robin- they tell each other everything- and the words are hard to force out, stilted and stuck in his throat, like the time Tommy H. dared him to swallow a Battleship peg and it got stuck, almost choking him to death on the playground. “I don’t know what to tell you. Sometimes I make plans that I don’t run by you first.”

Grabbing another stack of movies, Steve walks away, desperate to put some distance between them. God, he hates lying to her. And to Eddie. And Dustin. And Max. And-

“Are they with Eddie?” she asks, following behind him. She trips on the back of his foot when he stops abruptly in the sci-fi section to replace E.T. “Because if they are, I’m sure Eddie wouldn’t mind if I tagged along. Or you could bring him with you. Unless they’re, like, sexy plans at which point I don’t think it would kill you to come up for air for a few hours to spend some time with me.”

He turns around to head for the next aisle and comes face-to-face with a smug looking Robin. “They’re not- I don’t have ‘sexy plans,’ Robin,” he says, rolling his eyes at her.

“All I’m saying,” she says, as he side steps around her, “is that it wouldn’t kill you to take a break from swapping spit with Eddie to swap presents with me. The love of your life.”

Steve turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “Since when are you ‘the love of my life?’” he asks.

Robin levels him with an unimpressed look, snatching the remaining movies from Steve’s hands. “I’m one of them and we both know it, Harrington,” she says, poking him in the chest with her finger.

And he can’t really argue with that. Wouldn’t really want to either.

Steve presses a kiss to her shoulder as he passes by on his way to grab the rest of the returned movies, putting them back on the shelves side-by-side with her. It would probably go by quicker if they separated, went down different aisles, but they have a system, and why fix what isn’t broken.

Steve effectively manages to avoid the topic of Christmas plans for the rest of their shift by dragging Robin into a rousing round of judgement over the movie taste in Hawkins.

Crisis averted. As easy as side stepping a missile.

**

A few days later, Gremlins is playing on the tv as per Steve’s choice of afternoon movie, and about halfway through the film, Robin’s fairly certain she’s figured out the reason why.

Once the little fur balls have turned into the creepy little fuckers that are the gremlins, Steve starts comparing each of the little creatures on screen to the little creatures in his own life. The one riding around on a skateboard is met with an affectionate “she’s just like Max.” The one wearing a blue and yellow baseball cap is deemed “the Dustin of the group.” Oh, and doesn’t the one eating a tub of ice cream nearly twice its body size just remind Robin of Erica?

If it weren’t so endearing, it would be incredibly annoying. The way Steve shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle before dropping his gaze to the floor and back up. It’s a look that Robin is intimately familiar with, having been on the receiving end of it herself several times over the course of their friendship.

The first time had been a real shock to the system- her shoes and tacky white knee socks dripping banana flavored ice cream from the tub she’d dropped at her feet, Robin had expected to be met with laughter and a snide remark; instead, she had looked up to find Steve Harrington watching her with a grin and the fondest eyes she had ever seen aimed in her direction. Now it’s a near daily experience- the looks, thankfully not the ice cream dropping.

Robin’s just finishing checking out a woman with not one, not two, but three screaming toddlers pulling at her skirt, when she hears that quiet chuckle again and gears up for the next great gremlin comparison.

Steve bumps his shoulder into Robin’s and nods his head in the direction of the tv. “It’s us,” he says.

Robin turns her attention to the movie where the gremlins have infiltrated a theater. There’s nothing remarkable about the scene at first, until Robin notices the two sitting together just left of the center. They’re both wearing 3D glasses and loudly cackling, sharing a tub of popcorn. Something warm zips through Robin’s chest, and she nudges Steve’s shoulder back.

“I guess it is us,” she agrees. “Though I think you’re missing the obvious here, babe. You are clearly the one with the hair.” She runs her hands through Steve’s hair, effectively messing up the careful styling while Steve squawks, wiggling to get away from her in the limited counter space.

He’s trying to smooth things back into place when the door bursts open, swinging with enough force that it knocks into the wall with a resounding rattle. Eddie appears completely unperturbed by his chaotic entrance, ignoring the pointed stares from the other patrons as he strolls straight up to the counter.

“Hello, my little ducklings,” he greets happily. Placing his hands on the counter, Eddie hops up and leans his chest over the linoleum, giving them both a sloppy kiss on the cheek. First Steve, then Robin.  

At first, Robin used to think Eddie only did this- giving her a kiss as well- to cover for the fact that he wanted to give Steve affection in public. But then he continued doing it, even when Steve was nowhere around to receive the first kiss.

Picking Robin up from band practice? Kiss on the cheek. Visiting Robin while Steve was working the late shift? Kiss on the nose. Sitting down next to Robin in the cafeteria? Kiss on the forehead.

Eventually, Robin had come to accept that Eddie is just an affectionate person with the people he loves the most. Which at some point along the way had come to include her.

She even has the matching friendship bracelet on her wrist to prove it.

“How are my favorite elves doing today?” Eddie asks, flicking one of the bells on the necklaces Keith is making them wear to enhance the holiday spirit. How the fuck bell collars are supposed to do that Robin will never know.

“So, now we’re elves?” Steve says, grinning like an absolute sap at his boyfriend. “I thought we were ducks.”

“Ah, ah,” Eddie tuts, “ducklings. And why can’t you be both?”

“Did you bring us something?” Robin cuts in, noticing the brown McDonald’s bag sitting on the counter by Eddie’s elbow. She knows from personal experience that their weird version of flirting could go on for a while, and she could stomach it a whole lot better if she was munching on some food.

Eddie lights up, hopping in his spot a little. “Yes, I did,” he says, digging around in the bag. “I brought you… drumroll please,” he drums his hands on the counter, “chicken nuggets!”

He produces two boxes of McNuggets, waving them around with a flourish before bestowing them on Robin and Steve.

“Thanks, babe,” they parrot at the same time, and Eddie’s smile turns more impish, taking up his face.

He’s just opening his mouth to say something when a teenager stumbles up beside him at the counter. The kid’s eyes are completely bloodshot and red rimmed, and Robin already knows what they’re in for before the kid even opens his mouth.

“Um, excuse me,” he says, like there aren’t three pairs of eyes already staring him down. “I’m looking for a movie.”

“Well, you are in the right place,” Steve snarks. “What movie are you looking for?”

“Well, see I don’t actually know- I’m not very good with titles- but I do know that it takes place on a farm. Or out in space. And it’s got that really hot chick in it. Oh, and the boat guy.”

Boat guy, Eddie mouths at them, eyebrows practically lost in his hairline. He looks about five seconds away from bursting into laughter.

Next to him, the kid snaps his fingers. “Tom Cruise!” he shouts, like he thinks that’s going to crack this case wide open. They’re just looking for your classic space/farm film starring Tom Cruise and hot chicks. Easy.

“Right. And you’re sure this is an actual movie and not just something you’ve been thinking really hard about?” Steve asks.

“Oh, for sure, man,” the guy says. He starts nodding and doesn’t stop. “I checked it out last week.”

“That’s great,” Robin jumps in, relief palpable in her tone. She couldn’t handle another wild goose chase with a high teenager. They take one hit and suddenly they’re the next George Lucas, creating films out of thin air. But if he checked this movie out then, “I can check your account and see which movie you last rented. What’s your name?”

“Oh. I don’t have an account here,” the kid laughs.

Robin’s mouth twists. Her fingers twitch where they’re poised above the keyboard. She closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. “Of course, you don’t. Steve.” She turns to him, cocking her head towards the kid, a clear take care of this.

Steve’s eyes widen imperceptibly- I don’t want to.

Robin widens her eyes back, jutting her chin out- I took the last one, it’s your turn.

Steve’s sigh rings with every ounce of the unspoken fucking fine that is shining in his eyes, and he leads the kid away from the counter to assist him in locating a movie that in all likelihood does not actually exist.

Personally, Robin sets to opening her box of chicken nuggets, tearing the barbeque sauce packet open with her teeth and dipping a nugget inside.

“So, heard you’re stealing my boyfriend for Christmas,” Eddie says casually, swiping his finger through a drop of sauce that landed on the counter.

“Don’t know where you heard that, but you heard wrong,” Robin tells him around a mouthful of food.

Eddie looks confused for a moment, pulling a piece of hair over his face. “But… he said no when Wayne and I asked him to spend Christmas with us. I figured that meant he was going to be with you?”

Robin shakes her head. She returns the nugget in her hand back to the box, wiping her fingers on her jeans. “He told me no too. When I asked him about Christmas. Said he would be with you.”

Except… that’s not entirely true, is it. Now that she’s thinking about it, they never really finished that conversation. Steve gave some weird, half-assed answer about having plans, and changed the subject. But he never did confirm what those plans were, did he? She had assumed that if Steve had plans they would be with Eddie, but now Eddie’s here telling her the same thing.

“You know, he’s been acting kind of off lately,” Robin says, thinking out loud- she’s always done better when there’s someone else to bounce ideas off of. “I originally thought maybe it was the migraines acting up again, but now I’m starting to think it’s-”

“Whenever someone brings up Christmas,” Eddie finishes. Taking a deep breath, he looks up at the ceiling, fiddling with the ring Steve gave him for their three-month anniversary. It has to hurt- the rate which he’s spinning it with will definitely leave a red mark behind. “So, he’s not going to be with you,” he clarifies, pointing at her, “and he’s not going to be with me,” he points back at himself. “So, he’s what, going to spend Christmas alone?”

There’s a hint of heartbreak pouring into his voice, and Robin finds it mirroring in her own chest.  

“Why would he do that, though?” Robin asks, trying to wrap her head around it. “We’re right here.”

“You don’t think his parents are coming back, do you?” Eddie asks hesitantly, almost like he can’t bear to put the thought out into the universe.  

“No,” Robin bites. “They didn’t even come back when the world almost ended, when he almost fucking died from blood loss. They’re not coming back to spend Christmas with him.”

Even if they were, there’s no way in hell that Robin would let them anywhere near Steve for any prolonged period of time. Steve deserves better than them. Hell, Steve is better than them in every conceivable way. He deserves people who love him and care about him and actually want him to be around. Which is why it doesn’t make any god damn sense that Steve is pushing them away.

Although, if it truly is only about Christmas, then…

Robin taps her fingers on the countertop. “Maybe one of the kids got to him first?”

“Eh, I guess it’s possible. But what are the chances that one of the shrimps actually bagged Steve for Christmas and isn’t bragging to the high heavens about it right now?”

Pretty fucking slim, that’s what. Sure, there are a few of them that would probably be able to keep their mouths shut, still graced with an ounce of humility as they are- read Lucas, Will, and El- but the rest? The rest would definitely have made it known by now.

Erica would have told Robin right off the bat at girls’ night, ruling out the chances of Lucas trying to keep it on the down low. Mike would have started whining in that petulant teenage way he does when he’s excited about something but doesn’t want to show it. And Dustin and Max are currently locked in a stalemate over which of them is actually Steve’s favorite; if he was spending Christmas with one of them, there’s no way it wouldn’t be getting used as the ultimate bargaining chip right now.

Robin sighs. “So probably not the kids then.”

They look over to where Steve is valiantly trying to convince a customer that yes, Top Gun actually is the movie he’s looking for. He’s in full-on mom mode, hip cocked, hand on his waistband, pushing the VHS into the guy’s outstretched hands.

Eddie chews nervously at his hair.

“What are you doing, Stevie?”  

**

They decide to test the waters a few days later when everyone is gathered at Steve’s for their weekly movie/game night.

It’s a movie night tonight. After the Monopoly fiasco of last week and the UNO debatical the week before that, they’ve all effectively been grounded from games for at least the rest of the month, which is actually kind of preferable. Robin would much rather hunker down with some movies and blankets than fight over Boardwalk with teenagers any day.

As an added bonus, Steve is fairly predictable when it comes to movie nights. Every time, without fail, Steve will get up halfway through the movie to stretch and go to the bathroom and come back with a fresh round of snacks for everyone, thus creating the perfect opportunity to do a little investigating.

Just like clockwork, halfway into the movie Steve peels himself away from Eddie’s side, leaving his boyfriend looking bereft on the loveseat as he tries valiantly not to shiver at the sudden loss of his personal space heater.

They wait until they hear the creak of the third stair under Steve’s weight- because Steve is a freak who has a preferred bathroom in his own home- before making their move, silently communicating how they’re going to go about this.   

“So,” Robin whispers just loud enough to be heard over the tv- she doesn’t dare pause the movie, Steve is highly perceptive, if he comes back to the movie in the same spot he left it he’ll have questions- “do any of you know of or have plans with Steve on Christmas?”

There’s a pause as everyone considers, glancing around at each other like it’s a trick question. Robin has to fight to keep her leg from bouncing in the loaded silence, not wanting to disturb Nancy who’s sleeping with her head in Robin’s lap. She twists her fingers around Nancy’s curls instead, thumbing at the heart shaped barrette in her hair to expel some of the nervous energy.

Slowly, one by one, everyone starts shaking their heads, denying any knowledge of plans with Steve. Which is pretty much what she expected but it still feels like a punch to the gut.

“I asked him to come over for Christmas lunch with me and mom, but he said he had ‘plans’,” Dustin says, using air quotes around the ‘plan,’ a mocking sense of bitterness seeping into his tone. 

“He said the same thing to us,” Lucas offers, gesturing between himself and Erica, who nods her head in agreement against Robin’s shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what he seems to be telling everybody,” Eddie says. “But as far as we can tell,” he gestures between himself and Robin, hand still swaddled in plaid blanket, “he doesn’t actually have any.”

That seems to settle like a lead weight over the group.

“Wait,” Will says, sitting up straighter against the couch. His eyebrows are knitted in concern. “Steve isn’t going to be with you guys?”

“That would be a negative, Will the Wise.”

“Then what is he doing?” Jonathan asks.

And isn’t that the fucking million-dollar question. What is Steve doing? About Christmas and in general, because they’ve worked a lot on Steve’s self-worth in the months since Vecna’s defeat and Robin really thought they had made a breakthrough, at least in terms of Steve believing he belonged with them. So, why is he suddenly so intent on keeping himself isolated?

“Keith told me yesterday that Steve volunteered for the holiday shift at Family Video,” Robin volunteers. Delicately, like she’s trying to soften a blow.

In a way she is, because in that moment when Keith told her yesterday, Robin had never wanted to throttle her best friend more, right there on the hideous refurbished carpet in front of god and every customer shopping for B list movies. Apparently, the others agree with that sentiment as there are several cries of outrage.

Above them, the floorboards creak. Nancy twitches in Robin’s lap.

“But… that still doesn’t explain why he turned all of us down. He could have just come over after his shift,” Will says, ever the voice of reason and logic.

“Yeah,” Dustin shouts, thrusting his hand in Will’s direction in agreement, almost smacking Mike in the nose. “We could have easily adjusted our stuff, done things at a later time so that Steve could join in.”

“He doesn’t want to be a bother,” Nancy croaks, voice thick with sleep, causing Robin to jolt in surprise- she hadn’t realized the other girl was awake. When she looks down, Nancy’s eyes are still shut, eyelashes casting a fluttering shadow across her cheekbones. Robin wants to trace them with her fingertip.

“But he wouldn’t be!” Dustin protests, voice cracking. The kid is starting to sound dangerously too close to crying for Robin’s liking; it makes her skin itch. She’s never been good in an emotional crisis- where do you put your hands, are you supposed to go in for a hug, do you use the classic ‘there, there’ or is that too cliché?

“Of course, he wouldn’t,” Nancy is quick to appease, finally opening her eyes. She struggles to shake the last remnants of sleep from her limbs, dragging herself out of Robin’s lap and into a sitting position; Robin misses her immediately. “But, Steve…,” Nancy sighs, falling against Robin’s arm, sleep warm and heavy and right, “Steve won’t see it that way.”

“How will Steve see it?” El asks, tilting her head curiously.

“When Steve and I were together,” Nancy begins, picking at a loose thread on her sweater, “he came over to the house two days before Christmas,” she holds up her fingers in emphasis, “and he spent the whole time fidgety and awkward like he was expecting to be asked to leave at any second. Kept asking if I was sure it was okay he was there, that he didn’t want to intrude on our family time. I think it stems from something his parents did, but Steve doesn’t talk about it much and I never really asked.”

“So, now he’s overcompensating by not doing Christmas with anyone,” Eddie fills in. There’s a sadness growing in his eyes that’s reflected in several others around the room.

“And Steve being Steve, he doesn’t want to make anyone feel awkward or guilty or obligated, so he’s pretending he already has plans,” Robin realizes, everything finally clicking into place in the most heartbreaking way.

“Makes sense,” Max chimes in, picking at her nails and avoiding eye contact. “When I tried to ask Steve, he barely even let me get a word in edgewise after I said ‘Christmas.’ Which sucked because I was trying to tell him that my mom had to work on Christmas and I thought maybe we could spend the day together so neither of us had to be alone.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas alone too?!” Dustin wails. He’s jumped up from his seat and has his hands buried in his hair, the absolute picture of despair, all red faced and splotchy as he paces. His foot catches in one of the blankets in their little makeshift fort, and he almost busts his nose on the coffee table that’s been pushed to the side.

Max rolls her eyes. “Relax, dingus, I won’t be alone.  I’m going over to El’s for Christmas.”

At the mention of her name, El looks up from where she’s been playing with Max’s hair- fingers still tangled in the red strands- and smiles at them, her nose scrunching adorably. No one’s quite sure what the exact dynamic between El, Max, and Lucas is at the moment, but the way Max is comfortably laying between the two on the couch, letting El play with her hair and Lucas play with her fingers has Robin feeling fairly confident she’s got them figured out.

“Okay. Okay,” Dustin breathes, calming himself down. He moves his hands to rest on his hips in a poor imitation of Steve’s mom mode that only Lucas can truly pull off. “But what are we going to do about Steve? We can’t just let him spend Christmas alone. That’s not right.”

Beside her, Nancy shifts awkwardly. When Robin turns to look at her, she finds Nancy biting her bottom lip- light pink lipstick contrasting with her teeth- and looking like she’s in a serious debate with herself.

Robin bumps her with her elbow. “What is it, Nance?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, Nancy licks her lips. Takes a deep breath. Sighs. “Okay, so, I’m guessing that none of you guys know- Steve is incredibly tight lipped about it, I only found out by accident- but I feel like you guys should know that Christmas is also Steve’s birthday.”

“It’s what?!”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie curses under his breath. This is worse than they thought. Not only is Steve planning on spending Christmas alone, but he’s also going to spend his fucking birthday alone. And he wasn’t even planning on telling them about it. He was just going to go about his day like it wasn’t an extremely fucking important day in all their lives. Eddie could never.

The room devolves into chaos again.

Mike nearly falls over from flopping his arms around so much. Dustin is back to pacing around, alternating between muttering about how “this is bad, this is really really bad” and “how the fuck didn’t any of you know?” Lucas and Will are sitting frozen, eyes blown wide and looking like someone just shot their favorite cat right in front of them.

Max is suspiciously quiet about it all, and if Robin had to guess, she’d probably say that Max understands the decisions Steve’s made better than any of them ever will.

God, what a movie night. Not a board game in sight and shit’s still hitting the fan.

“Why is this bad?” El asks, looking at them all with wide, confused eyes. “A Christmas birthday sounds wonderful.”

“I’m sure it can be,” Max comforts, knowing El’s affinity for holidays and everything that goes with them. Ever since Hopper adopted her, the man has worked hard to give his daughter happy memories, which includes celebrating everything. To El, a Christmas birthday would be just that, Christmas and a birthday all wrapped up in warm bubble, “but-”

“But, apart from Valentine’s Day, Christmas is the most capitalistic holiday in America,” Erica cuts in, “and everyone knows that capitalism always wins. Between Christmas and a birthday,” she shakes her head, “nobody cares about a birthday.”

“We do,” El says, steel flashing in her brown eyes. If there was a demodog in the room right now, there’s no doubt she would have obliterated it without even batting an eye.

“We do,” Jonathan soothes.

“Of course, we do,” Robin agrees, and everyone nods. “We just need to figure out what to do.”

It’s as much a statement as it is a question. They’re obviously going to do something for Steve, but if they push too hard or in the wrong way, he’ll get defensive, see it as a warped sense of duty on their part. Which is exactly why he’s been lying to them to begin with.

“I totally got it, my dudes,” Argyle declares. “We’ll throw a party. A Christmas Birthday party.” He pauses to think. “A Christday party. No, wait. A Birthmas party.” His eyes widen like he’s imparting a piece of wisdom on them.

Mike scoffs. “That’s not even a thing.”

“Oh, but it could be.”

“But it’s not.”

“But it could be.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As riveting as this conversation is,” he says, looking between his boyfriend and Mike, “can you please knock it the fuck off.” He squeezes Argyle’s knee, leaving his hand there. “It’s a good idea, babe, really, but I don’t think we’ll get Steve to go for it.”

“I don’t either,” Nancy says. “The second we bring it up, he’s going to insist that it’s fine and we shouldn’t go out of our way to do anything for him.”

“Then we don’t tell Steve,” Will snaps, determination set in his voice and jaw. “We all have keys to his house-”

“Uhhh, I don’t,” Mike objects, raising his hand.

“-I say we come over while Steve’s at work and set everything up to have a party. We’ll celebrate with him when he gets home, and he’ll have no choice but to accept it.”

“A surprise Birthmas party,” Argyle approves, shooting finger guns at Will. “Righteous.”

It’s not a half bad idea actually. In fact, there’s a good chance that they could actually pull this off.

Pulling her legs up onto the couch, Robin rests her chin on her knees, contemplating. “If we’re gonna do this, then we’re going to need an actual plan besides just breaking in and reverse robbing Steve. We’ll need a list of supplies, who’s going to do what, when we’re going to-”

The third stair squeaks, indicating that Steve’s on his way back downstairs. Which means they’re running on borrowed time before Steve rejoins them and effectively ends the conversation.

“Babe! I need more popcorn!” Eddie hollers, panic seeping into his voice. He widens his eyes and shrugs at them in a what was I supposed to do gesture. It’ll buy them more time. Hopefully enough to set up a plan to make the plan before Steve comes back.

“Can you get me a Coke?” Robin calls, tacking on a little extra time.  

There’s silence for a moment, followed by some banging in the kitchen as Steve sets to getting the requested items. Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief.

“Okay,” Dustin whispers frantically, leaning forward so they can hear him better, “let’s all get on our walkies tomorrow at noon to establish a meeting place to discuss this further.”

“Umm, problem,” Eddie whispers back. “We,” he points between himself, Robin, and Argyle, “don’t have access to walkies.”

Dustin opens his mouth- hopefully to say something reasonable like “let’s just use the phone” or “we can establish a meeting place while we’re all right fucking here”- but pauses. The kids all look between each other, seemingly having some kind of conversation with their eyes before coming to a conclusion, Max giving them an imperceptible nod of permission.

“It was supposed to be a surprise-”

“So, you won’t be telling Steve because his will still be a surprise,” Max instructs, threateningly.

“But we got you guys your own walkies for Christmas. Or, well, Hanukkah in your case,” Lucas finishes, waving his hand towards Argyle. “You guys are party members now. You’ve earned them.”

Something about that statement is remarkably sweet. Robin just thinks it would be sweeter if they hadn’t had to fight an evil wizard in an alternate dimension to earn it. Still, it leaves her feeling just a little breathless at the thought of being included.

“You can pick them up tonight when you drop us off at home.”

Eddie looks at Robin incredulously, throwing his hands up. “Who ever said I was taking you little shits home tonight?”

“Relax,” Dustin says, “you can still come back here afterwards to make out with Steve or whatever.”

A nasty snort breaks free before Robin can stop it. She buries her face in her knees to hide the rest of her laughter, holding up a hand in apology to Eddie.

Dustin shakes his head. “Anyway,” he says, ignoring her outburst, “Tomorrow. Noon. Listen for Code Green.”

“Why exactly do we need a code word?” Eddie asks. Look, he’s just trying to be practical here. If everybody’s going to be listening in at noon and Steve doesn’t even have his radio yet, then why the hell do they need to have a fucking code word?

This time, it’s Nancy who starts laughing, pressing her smile into Robin’s hair, breathing in lilac and citrus between giggles. “It’s like he doesn’t know them at all,” she whispers into her ear.

“We always use code words,” Lucas says, slightly miffed by the insinuation that they don’t need one. “Red, blue, and yellow are already taken. So, I agree that green is a good choice.”

“Plus, it’s a good color for Christmas, you know. Green. Like a Christmas tree.” Dustin gasps so hard he nearly starts choking. “We’re gonna need to get a tree!”

**

“Can you please hurry the fuck up,” Eddie grouses for the third time.

They’ve been wandering around the practically desolate tree lot for 45 minutes, pausing occasionally to let Dustin hem and haw at a tree that Eddie wishes he’d just fucking pick already before shaking his head and walking on. Kid’s acting like he’s some kind of fucking art connoisseur in a museum instead of choosing a Christmas tree in a lot that was picked through weeks ago. Like they’re not pretty much looking at Charlie Brown trees no one else wanted.

Eddie’s fucking freezing.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Dustin sasses back. Again, for the third time. He doesn’t even turn around to look at Eddie anymore as he says it. “This is important. We’re looking for a tree for Christmas. For Steve’s birthday. I have to find a tree that understands that, that can bring the right kind of energy.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Eddie whines.

Today might actually be the day he finally snaps and kills the kid for good. He could just... trip him. Say he slipped on some ice. Bury the body under one of these pathetic ass looking trees that apparently don’t have the right vibe or some shit.

There are hardly any witnesses around, just a few bored looking employees and a little girl with her mom. (Eddie’s spent enough last-minute holidays to know that they just managed to scrape the money together to buy a meager tree on Christmas morning. He gives the mother a small nod and she smiles back.)

Beside him, Robin’s teeth are starting to chatter like she agrees with him, like she would ride or die kill Dustin Henderson on this Christmas tree farm for a cup of hot cocoa.

Dustin’s sigh is world weary as he turns around to face them. “It means,” he starts like he’s talking to actual children, “that in order to find the perfect tree I have to listen to their energy and figure out which one will match best with the atmosphere of our party. This tree for example,” he says, pointing to the one he was just scrutinizing, “is meant for a couple, not a group, and we need a tree for a family.”

“So, essentially, you’re talking to the trees,” Robin says bewildered, eyebrows high on her forehead.

“This is how me and my mom always pick our trees,” Dustin defends, sounding exactly like the sixteen-year-old he is, all sense of bravado gone. “She says I have a knack for it.”  

Robin immediately softens, eyes crinkling in a smile that’s just the right mix of fond and teasing. “Well, then, have at it, Dr. Dolittle,” she says, sweeping her hand in front of her over the rows of trees they’ve yet to look through.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “That’s animals,” he says, but he seems lighter, appeased, turning on his heel and trekking forward through the snow, leaving prints for Eddie and Robin to follow. Like Hansel and Gretel making their way through Antarctica.   

If you look behind them, you’ll probably find a pair of tits and balls laying in the snow from where they’ve frozen off.

“What do you think the odds are of him having been dropped on his head as a child?” Eddie whispers in Robin’s ear once Dustin is out of earshot.  

Robin snorts, messy and endearing and so very similar to Steve that Eddie feels his chest spasm. “I’d say they’re pretty high, but then again I’m pretty sure I was dropped on my head once too, so…”

Eddie hums. “That explains a lot actually.”

Robin’s face scrunches in offense, and she shoves Eddie in the shoulder, knocking him away from her and causing snow to seep into his boot through the lace holes, making him grimace. 

He doesn’t go far, though, pulled back almost immediately by their joined hands, Robin’s fingers tinged red from the cold. The fraying fabric of the matching strings around their wrists snag together where they’re peeking out from the cuffs of their jackets.

Eddie briefly wonders if she would give him her coat for warmth if he asked. It’s probably a good 50/50 chance- if it was Steve asking those chances would raise to about 90.

“No offense meant, Robbie. I do believe that yours truly also took a few tumbles to the head as a baby.”

“And that would explain a lot about you,” she says sweetly.  

He can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back and bumping his hip against hers. Can’t help but marvel at the fact that this is his life now, that just last year it was just him and Wayne alone at the trailer for Christmas and now they’re planning a big celebration with the people that have become a like second family to them.

When Eddie was little, he would lie awake at night listening to his parents fight and pretend that he was somewhere else, with someone else, someone who would actually love him and pay attention to him. That dream eventually came true through Wayne, and even that was more than Eddie ever thought he would get. So this? This is beyond anything that Eddie ever let himself imagine.

“Do you think he’s actually going to find a good tree?” Robin asks, effectively pulling Eddie from his thoughts, slight concern bleeding into her tone. Whether it’s for Dustin or Steve- or them working on getting frostbite- Eddie’s not really sure.

“In this mess? Probably not. But then again the kid’s a determined little shit, and I’ve seen him do a hell of a lot more with less, so I wouldn’t count him out just yet. I just wish we weren’t the ones who drew the short straw on this.”

Robin laughs. “Oh, we ‘drew the short straw’ did we?” she repeats incredulously. “Yeah, you certainly drew that short straw when you literally volunteered for this.”

“I did no such thing,” Eddie says, pointing a finger sternly at Robin. “I said they could use my van to secure the tree. Not that I would come along to supervise.”

“Like you were going to let someone else wander around out here with your love child.”

“Whoa, hey. Dustin Henderson is not my love child,” he says, putting air quotes around the words. Just because he has a soft spot for the kid that is also shared by his boyfriend doesn’t mean that he’s their love child. Sure, the kids refer to him and Steve as mom and dad, but that’s beside the point.

“Sure, he’s not,” Robin agrees, placating and fake, disbelief dripping from every word. “Just make sure Steve doesn’t hear you say that. Or Dustin for that matter. You’ll break their little hearts.”

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs, knowing full well she’s right. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here then.”

“Please. I was that kid’s dad long before you showed up. You’re basically just a glorified stepparent.”

Eddie opens his mouth to retort something, he’s honestly not even sure what- what do you even say to that- but is interrupted by Dustin ahead of them shouting, “Guys, I found it! This is the one!”

They slowly trudge their way over to where Dustin’s bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. He’s got a dorky little grin on his face as he gestures to the tree in front of him, like Robin and Eddie are looking anywhere else.

And Eddie has to admit, it’s a pretty damn good tree. It’s a little on the short side and has some bare spots along the back and middle where the needles fell off too earlier in the cold, but with a little work and the right decoration placement, it will no doubt be perfect for what they need it for.

“Shit, Henderson,” Eddie praises, placing his hand on Dustin’s head and giving him an affection shake, “maybe you are a tree whisperer after all.”

Dustin turns to look at him, lip caught between his teeth, all bashful at the praise. Eddie’s suddenly struck with just how young his little sheep still is.

Throwing his arm around Dustin’s shoulders, Eddie pulls the kid into his side. “Let’s load this bad boy up.”

**

As expected, the kids all love the tree. They practically cream their pants in excitement when they lug it into the house, all chomping at the bit to praise Dustin for his excellent find.

So, yeah, the tree is perfect. The tree is not the problem. The problem is these-

“God damn, motherfucking lights!”

“Having some trouble?” Nancy asks. Her smile is teasing as she sits crisscross on the floor beside him, the giant ball of lights he’s trying to unknot sitting in a glob between them.

“I swear they weren’t this tangled when I got them out of the box,” Eddie pouts. He lifts the lights in his hands and drops them back to the floor with a frustrated clack.

Nancy laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Give them to me,” she says, swatting Eddie’s hands out of the way.

“Ow! Oww!” Eddie exclaims, making a big show of cradling his hands to his chest, sliding backwards away from her on the hardwood floor. “This is abuse, Wheeler!”

Nancy gives him a deadpan look before rolling her eyes. The way she’s biting her lip between her teeth gives her away though, fighting a smile at his antics. And that’s what he loves about Nancy- on the surface, she reads like an uptight priss, but on her most basic, most fundamental, and most real level, she’s a free spirited badass, wild and crazy, fighting to live her life for nobody but herself.

Robin had once told him that seeing the real Steve, realizing that she had actually come to like him while working in the ice cream store, had shocked her to her core. And Eddie is inclined to agree, because coming face-to-face with the real Nancy Wheeler and realizing that she’s become one of the best friends he’s ever had… well, it had shocked him to his core.

He’s far past that shock now, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him as he watches her untangle the string of lights with agile fingers. She’s wearing the dorkiest Christmas sweater known to man and a jean skirt with hose. Eddie’s not sure if he wants to make fun of her or hug her.

“So,” he says, crossing his ankles and tapping his socked foot into Nancy’s knee, “you gonna find a way to get Buckley under the mistletoe?” He nods his head in the direction where Robin is draping tinsel on every available surface with Erica, both of them singing along loudly to Last Christmas, and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Nancy.

 She sucks in a breath that’s half-gasp half-shocked laugh and shakes her head. “No. I’m not- I mean I- There isn’t even mistletoe here,” Nancy stutters, face flushed red.

“Ohhh, Nancy,” Eddie sing songs. “You sorely underestimate how much of a horny and cliché old man Hopper can be. I saw him hanging some in the kitchen earlier to use on Joyce.”

“That’s… kind of sweet,” Nancy says, but her voice lilts up like a question at the end and her nose wrinkles up.  

“Sweet my ass. You try watching them tongue each other, then come back and tell me if you think it’s still ‘sweet’.”

The laugh that bursts out of Nancy is loud, closer to a cackle than a laugh. She puts her forehead on Eddie’s shoulder and tucks her face into his neck as her whole body shakes with the force of it.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, Wheeler,” he says, poking a finger in her side that makes her almost fall over as she screeches another laugh.

Almost everyone pauses in what they’re doing to look over at them, making a scene as they are. Tangled together in a heap on the floor, tears streaming down their faces as they laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Eddie’s never seen Wayne look so proud as he gazes at his nephew, free and open with a family they both belong in.

Robin’s gazing at them too, love shining in the depths of her blue eyes.

“I think you should go for it,” Eddie whispers to Nancy once the giggles have subsided and the last of the light strand has been straightened out.

“I’m going to,” Nancy whispers back, “just not in a room full of children where my brother can interrupt at any moment.”

As if on cue, a pair of hands clap down on Eddie’s shoulders. “Need I remind you two that Steve will be here in T-minus three hours, and we still have to decorate the tree, finish the food, bring in the presents-”

“Dustin,” Nancy cuts in, sparing the kid from having an aneurism. “We know. We still have plenty of time and plenty of hands to make sure everything gets done in time.”

“Right. But let’s dial back on the chit chat some, yeah?” He says, pinching his thumb and forefinger together. “Idle hands should be busy hands.”

If it weren’t so irritating, it might actually be sweet how concerned the kid is about making the day good for Steve.

“Trust me,” Eddie says, smiling with his teeth, “things will be just perfect by the time Steve gets home.”

**

By the time Steve makes it back home, he’s practically dead on his feet. It hadn’t been a particularly grueling shift- there had only been a whopping two customers the entire day, one of which was an elderly woman who’d lost her husband back in June and was looking for someone to spend time with so she didn’t feel so lonely; Steve was more than happy to be that someone for her- but he’s still ready for this day to be over, to change into a pair of sweats, eat last night’s leftover spaghetti, and maybe call Eddie. 

He's distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the line of cars parked around his house, or the various sets of footprints staining the snow on the way to his front door. What he does notice, though, is the unmistakable sound of Holly Jolly Christmas coming from the other side of the oak door.

Eyebrows wrinkled in confusion- and only slight panic- Steve flips the lock.

And stops in his tracks when he comes face-to-face with the scene unfolding in his living room.

There’s balloons and tinsel everywhere- coating every available surface, littering the floor, hanging from the ceiling by what looks like masking tape and string. Everything reflective and shiny from the layers of Christmas lights glistening around the room. But that’s not what has Steve’s eyes stinging, filling with tears that he tries to rapidly blink away.

No, that would be the large group of people currently gathered around his house, decorating, laughing, seemingly waiting for him.

They haven’t noticed him yet, standing in the doorway, gawping under what looks to be two signs cut apart and taped back together to read ‘Merry Happy Birthmas’ in wildly different fonts and colors. It gives him a chance to look around at them all, to take in their flushed faces and bright eyes.

“Um… Hi,” he calls, just loud enough to catch their attention over the music.

Everyone freezes, snapping their heads up to look at him. Dustin stumbles on the chair he’s- jesus fucking christ- standing on like Steve hasn’t taught him anything about safety over the course of the last three years. If this is any indication of how the rest of these decorations got up, then Steve’s going to have to live in willful ignorance.

And take all of this back down himself.

“God damn it, Mike,” Lucas sighs, looking over at the other boy with a hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. “You were supposed to be watching for Steve.” He swings his hand in an accusing manner before placing it on his hip with the other.

Mike blinks at the accusing stares with wide eyes, cheeks chipmunk full. “I wanted another cookie.”

“And it wouldn’t have killed you to wait five more fucking minutes for it,” Max admonishes, wheeling up beside Mike at the red clothed table covered in various types of food and drink. “You’re not a starving child.” With that, she rips the half-eaten sugar cookie from his hand, shoves the rest of it in her mouth in a move that should not be as aggressive as it is, and rolls away again.

Steve has to hand it to her, the kid looks properly chastised, standing there cookie-less and wide eyed.

“Well, um… Surprise?” Mike tries, giving his best impression of jazz hands, stilted and clumsy.

It seems to do the trick, though, because it diverts the attention off of Mike and his guilt and back onto Steve as several of the kids follow up with a weak “surprise” of their own.

Eddie hops up from his place sitting cross-legged on the floor letting Argyle weave ribboned bells into his hair, and runs across the room to Steve, jingling the entire way like an overgrown cat. He crashes into Steve with a maniacal laugh, his socked feet sliding out from under him on the hardwood. Steve catches him easily.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” Eddie breathes, cupping his hands on Steve’s throat and launching forward to crash their lips together. There’s a push and pull that leaves Steve with his back arched and Eddie’s tongue in his mouth tasting like eggnog and peppermint. It’s bubbly and giddy, safe in a way that only Eddie can make him feel.

“Fuck, I am so glad that you were born, sweetheart,” Eddie says when he pulls back. His eyes roam Steve’s face like a kiss of their own.

“Me too!” Robin calls, rushing up to join them. There’s more jingling, that Steve belatedly realizes is coming from the bells braided into her hair as well. “I am also insanely glad that you exist,” she says, grabbing his face and smacking a kiss to his cheek.

No doubt, it’s left a red etch of phantom lips on his cheek from her lipstick, but he makes no move to wipe it off. Just lets Robin cuddle up against his other side, wrapping her arms around his waist above Eddie’s. Across the room, Nancy is sporting a matching red stain on her cheek.

“Not that I’m not appreciative of all of this,” Steve says glancing around at everyone, “but what are you all doing here?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly as sneaking as you seem to think you are, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “And you vastly underestimate just how much I talk about you. We figured out that you didn’t actually have any plans for Christmas.”

“Or your birthday for that matter,” Robin chimes in. “You were going to go to work and come home to eat leftovers in the dark all by yourself-”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t going to be that dramatic,” he mumbles.

“-and you weren’t even going to tell us. What were you thinking, dingus?” She shakes his shoulders, rattling his teeth.

“I was thinking that you guys had stuff going on already, and I didn’t want to ruin your time with your families.”

“You already were, kid,” Hopper says, “by not being here with us.”

All of the air gets lost on its way to Steve’s lungs, detouring and taking up residency in his throat.

He blinks. Tries to comprehend what Hopper’s saying, but he must be missing something here, must have crossed some wires somewhere, because it almost sounds like Hopper’s saying- But, no, surely, he’s not implying that-

“You’re family, Steve,” El says, soft but full of determination, truth ringing in the words.

She pulls away from Hopper’s side and comes over to Steve, taking up the open space between Robin and Eddie, wrapping her arms around Steve’s waist.

“Oh.”

The word is punched out of him. He gathers El to him, pulls her into his chest and tries not to cry into her shaggy hair, still growing out and frizzing everywhere- she must have forgotten to use the special mousse Steve had gotten her. But she’s beautiful inside and out, and Steve loves her- his little superpowered kid- and he loves Eddie and Robin as they squeeze them both from the side.

Steve’s heart just about bursts- pops like an overinflated balloon, spilling its goopy insides all over him-when the rest of his nuggets rush over to join the hug. Arms and hands are everywhere as they all clamber to get ahold of Steve. He’s pretty sure that he’s full on crying now- sobs racking through his ribs that the kids are doing their level best to crush- but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Because this feels an awful lot like being chosen. And Steve’s never been chosen before. Not like this.

He sniffles, trying to compose himself as they start pulling back. “Thank you,” he sniffles. “Thank you all for this.”

“They all love you, big boy,” Eddie whispers in his ear. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, Steve. We love you,” Dustin says.

“You’re okay, I guess,” Erica says, making Steve snort a wet laugh. She has a tight grip on his wrist, though, and her eyes look suspiciously red around the edges, giving her away.

“If we’re done with the sappy shit now, I’m going to go get another cookie. Unless I’m still not allowed to.” Mike looks around at everyone for any objections before setting off for the snack table, distancing himself before he develops a rash from all the open affection.

When the hoard of people clears off, all starting in on the festivities or munching on food, Steve finds himself face-to-face with Max. She’s rolling her wheelchair slightly, backwards and forwards in place, nervously.

“I couldn’t exactly get in on that,” she says, gesturing loosely at the area where the group hug had just taken place, “so, I was wondering if I could-”

Before she even finishes her sentence, Steve is falling to his knees in front of her and pulling her into a hug of her own. Max sighs, melting into his chest and tucking her face in his neck. For someone with weakened bone strength, she has an incredibly strong grip around his shoulders. She’s like a cactus flower, Steve thinks, prickly and sharp but also soft and sweet.

She smells like strawberries and cider.

When she pulls back, Steve notices that she’s fidgeting with a wrapped box in her lap, twisting her fingers around a very impressive looking green bow. “This is for you,” she says, thrusting the box into his hands. “I got this for you.”

“Oh. I have something for you too,” he says, standing up to grab the gifts from his bedroom closet to put under the- holy shit- under the tree in the corner of the living room. Steve hasn’t had a Christmas tree of his own in years. It’s decorated in multicolored lights and what looks like a hodgepodge of ornaments, some glass, some homemade, some cheap plastic from the drugstore.

Before he makes it anywhere, though, Max is grabbing his hand and pulling him back down. “Just open it, dingus,” she orders. And, Jesus, she’s been spending way too much time around Robin if the delivery on that dingus is any indication.

“Okay, okay,” he says, sliding the ribbon off the box. “Bossy,” he mutters under his breath, and Max lets out a soft chuckle.

He tears the wrapping paper off, revealing a white cardboard box underneath. Steve shakes out the contents- and stops in his tracks.

“Max.”

He looks up at her, then back down to the snow globe in his hands. It’s not fancy or ornate, but it’s beautiful, and in the inside, amongst the fluttering glitter and pieces of fake snow, is a picture of them. It’s a candid shot from a party night, one where it’s obvious that neither of them were aware of the camera. They’re mid-laugh on the Wheeler’s basement couch, and Steve is braiding Max’s hair. It’s easy to see that their nails are both the same shade of dark purple. A perfect snapshot of time.

Hand-scratched into the red base of the globe are the shaky words “World’s Most Mom.”

“Every Christmas, my mom and I do snow globes of our favorite memories with each other from the year,” Max explains, the tips of her ears turning red. “I thought maybe you would like one. I mean I also wanted you to have one. I wanted to give you one that is.”

God damn, these kids are going to be the death of him.

Steve wipes at his face and pulls her back into a tight hug. “Thank you for this. I love it,” he chokes out in her hair.

Max’s fingers bunch up in the back of his sweater. “I do love you, Steve,” she whispers, words so quiet he almost doesn’t catch them. But he does, and his eyes squeeze shut against the onslaught of emotion they bring.

He kisses her temple. “Back at you, kid.”

She glances down at her socks, smile bashful.

“So, Argyle was going to teach us how to play with a dreidel,” she says, pointing over her shoulder where some of the others are starting to gather around said man, “so, I um, I’m gonna go. Over there now.”

“Okay,” he says, voice disgustingly soft, the snow globe held securely against his chest. “Win something for me,” he calls after her, and laughs when she pauses to flip him off without turning around.

Once Max is safely in the circle between Will and Robin, Steve looks around the room- trying to decide where he’s going to go next- and finds Dustin standing by the corner of the snack table bouncing excitedly in place, hands clasped together, wide grin caught between his teeth. His eyes are boring into Steve like he’s hoping to draw him over by his stare alone.

As far as tactics go, it’s pretty weak, but Steve’s also a weak man, so after kicking his shoes off in the pile by the door, he shuffles his way over to the kid. If possible, Dustin lights up even more.

“Steve,” he greets, all smiley and happy. “Did you see all of the food we made?” he asks, like Steve isn’t standing right in front of said table of food.

But he lets Dustin grab his hand and drag him along the length of the table, pointing out special items as they go. There’s a glass punch bowl filled with eggnog and another filled with hot chocolate, mini marshmallows floating around half melted on the top. It’s probably the first time these bowls have ever been used without being spiked with something. (At least Steve hopes it is; he makes a mental note to check later.)

Next comes an oddly shaped cake, white icing looking somewhat lumpy around the edges. In purple frosting across the top is “happy birthday! Steve,” the letters starting out large and slowly dwindling in size, smushing closer and closer to the edge until they start spilling down the sides for space.

It’s strangely reminiscent of the last- and only- birthday cake Steve got. Back on his seventh birthday. Expect where that one had been perfect and pristine, this one is clearly homemade. Something his mother would never have allowed to grace her table.

It’s absolutely perfect.

“Nancy made the cake- strawberry like you like- and Erica decorated it,” Dustin is saying. “I think someone brought candles. Oh, and Mr. Munson made his special pancakes for Eddie. And there’s obviously Eggos for El. Argyle made a pizza but there’s pineapples on it so do with that what you will. Mrs. Byers made some candies, but just between you and me, I’m not really sure what they’re supposed to be. They also taste kinda burnt.” He flicks his tongue out a couple times, fighting against the phantom taste in his mouth at the thought of those little candies.

There’s also a tray of sugar cookies- store bought- that should probably be moved before the wax dripping down the candles on the lit menorah drips onto them.

“This is all really great, man,” he praises, bumping his shoulder into Dustin’s. “You guys did a great job.”

“Really?” Dustin whips around, hope burning in his blue eyes.

“Yes, really. This is… this is more than I ever could have hoped for. And you know what my favorite part is?”

“What?”

“That Christmas tree,” he says, nodding towards it, taking a chance on the memory of Dustin going on and on about the ‘right way’ to pick trees out with his mom.

His gamble pays off when Dustin breaks into a beam, proudly declaring, “I picked it out!”

Steve laughs, dropping his hand to Dustin’s head, ruffling his hair. “Of course, you did. Well, it looks really nice, dude. Very festive.”

Dustin preens under the praise, cheeks rosy and bashful.

But just as quickly, Dustin’s entire demeanor seems to change. Shoulders slumping, he shuffles his feet on the carpet, looking down at his socks, then at the tree, then at the table, before coming back to land on Steve. He bites his lip. “Are you happy, Steve?” he asks quietly.

“Of course, I am,” he immediately reassures, but Dustin is quick to cut him off.

“No. I mean are you happy. I want you to be happy, and I want you to have a good birthday. You deserve to have a good birthday,” he says softer.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” Steve says. He waits until Dustin meets his eyes again before continuing. “I am happy. I’m having the best birthday. Honestly. I’ve never had anything like this before and it’s all because of all of you. I’m really glad you’re here.”

“You’re my best friend, Steve,” Dustin sniffles, pulling at Steve’s heartstrings.  

He smiles. “You’re mine too, Henderson.”

Because, yeah, Steve’s got Robin and Eddie, but they’re different from Dustin. Robin’s his best friend in the way that she’s his soulmate, the other half of his very being; their atoms were probably together when the big bang happened. Eddie’s his best friend in the way that he’s the love of Steve’s life, safety and acceptance and comfortability; the person he’s been waiting for since he found out what love is supposed to be and that his parents didn’t have it.

But Dustin? Dustin is Steve’s best friend in the way that he’s Steve’s best friend. Maybe it had started as an Upside Down thing- an alliance built of convenience of sorts- but it had developed into something stronger. Dustin was the first real friend Steve had that actually liked him- not the parties, not the money, not the big house. Not King Steve, but Steve, regular, everyday Steve Harrington. Dustin saw the real him and still chose to stick around. His first nugget. Steve will forever be grateful for that.

Wrapping an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, Steve pulls him against his side, Dustin slotting into place easily.

He takes in everything around them- Max cackling as she wins more tokens from the pot, Eddie twirling El around to the music, Robin laughing so hard she nearly snorts mulled cider out of her nose.

Yeah. “It’s a damn good party.”

**

Steve’s sitting by the pool, jeans rolled up and feet dipped in the water, watching the party through the large bay windows when Eddie and Robin find him, slipping out of the sliding glass doors and making their way over to him.

“Oh my god, Stevie, no! Don’t freeze your toes off! You know how much I like your feet,” Eddie laments. Like he’s not running across the frozen concrete himself in nothing but a pair of mismatched socks. He’s wearing one of Steve’s old Christmas sweaters now- the black one with the white reindeer. He must have gotten cold and went digging through his closet. It’s practically a hodgepodge of all their things anyway at this point, what with the way they keep stealing each other’s clothes.

“The pool’s heated, you freak,” Steve laughs, watching as Eddie falls to the ground behind him.

He scoots forward slowly on his butt until his chest is pressed along Steve’s back, legs on either side of his hips. In an effort to keep his socks from getting wet, Eddie wraps his legs around Steve’s waist- letting them rest on top of Steve’s thighs- and wraps his arms around Steve’s chest, resting his chin on his shoulder, tucking his face in Steve’s neck against the wind. Completely wrapped around him like a heat stealing spider monkey.

“What’re you doing out here?” Robin asks, dropping to the concrete beside them crisscross applesauce, dipping the tips of her fingers in the warm water, swirling it around.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just watching. Thinking.”

“About what?” Robin asks. She flicks her fingers in Steve’s direction, dotting his knee with splotches of water.

Robin’s become well acquainted with Steve’s tendency for melancholia during parties. After a certain point something just… hits Steve and he feels the need to step away, to watch from the sidelines. Robin always comes to pull him back in. An ebb and flow. Like he’s the ocean tide and she’s his moon.

“I always wanted something like this, you know,” Steve says, staring straight ahead, watching his friends laughing through the window. “A real family. People who cared. You know, when I turned seven, I invited the entire class to come to my birthday party,” he snorts a bitter, sad laugh, rubbing at his forehead, “I agonized over it for weeks, tried to make it perfect. I waited by the door for hours. And nobody showed. Nobody cared.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “All I ever wanted was for somebody to care.”

There’s a wounded noise. He’s not sure which one of them it comes from.

Robin twists her fingers through his, squeezing so tight the metal from their matching mood rings digs into his finger, nearly cutting off the circulation. Eddie clumsily grabs Steve’s face, pulling him into him, smushing his nose into Steve’s cheek as he leaves an imprint of his mouth on the bolt of Steve’s jaw.

“You have it now, baby,” Eddie promises.

“And we’re not going anywhere,” Robin squeezes his hand, “ever.”

Steve chokes. He holds Robin’s hand tighter- blood flow be damned- and wraps Eddie’s arms tighter around his chest. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

“Good. Because I honestly don’t know what the fuck we would do without you, princess.”

And isn’t that a novel thought, that Steve could matter this much to another person- people, he reminds himself, he matters to people.

He kisses Eddie’s jaw, right over the discolored red scar, a gentle press of lips over the tender skin.

“Come on, loverboy,” Robin says, standing up, leaving her hand connected to Steve’s and giving it a shake, “let’s go back in.”

Steve puts his free hand under Eddie’s thigh, using the leverage to haul them both up. The startled squeal Eddie lets out at being lifted could shatter glass; he flails, kicking his legs out and nearly choking Steve with the death grip he has around his neck.

“Damn, Stevie,” he says when it becomes apparent that Steve isn’t going to drop him, “if you wanted to cop a feel that bad all you had to do was ask. Wanna jingle my bells while you’re at it,” he says, shaking his head so the bells in his hair chime ridiculously.

Robin barks a laugh, pulling them both back towards the house- Steve being led by the hand, and Eddie being carried piggyback.

When they get inside, the kids demand they open presents, everyone gathered on the floor around the tree- Wayne and Hopper grumbling about their knees- because El insists this is how presents have to be opened.

As expected, Robin squeals when she opens her ukulele, tackling Steve to the ground and pressing a wet kiss to his forehead. Eddie practically crawls in his lap and shoves his tongue down Steve’s throat in gratitude when he sees the books Steve got for him, only stopping when several of the adults clear their throats and the kids start making gagging noises, but not before he promises Steve that he has a special present for him later that Santa couldn’t leave under the tree- “If you catch my drift.”

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Steve nearly loses it again when the kids present him with his own walkie talkie, so they can “talk to him whenever they want.”  Steve already knows that they’re going to bug the absolute shit out of him with it. And that he’s going to answer every time.

As they’re breaking off into their little groups to play with their new toys- fighting over Eddie because he just has to check out the new D&D shit but who else is going to teach Robin how to play a guitar-like instrument?- a car passes by on the street, pitching beams of light into the room over the windowpane.

Steve turns to look, glancing out the window where he had sat all those years ago, face pressed up against fogged glass, waiting for people that would never come…

And turns back to his family.