Curate, connect, and discover
I– just have this little escene of Hero Steve that i wrote.
—
He must have seen it coming, honestly, with all the crazy things that had happened in his life, what's one more. At least he had been alone at the time.
Steve lets out a chuckle while remembering what he had done for the last six years, where he had been. The weight of the glass in his hand feels lighter than normal. A lot of things feel lighter– weaker– than normal. He drinks the last shot and lands the glass with a light thud on the counter.
The bartender has been eyeing Steve for a while, he knows why, there’s a photo with his face on full display with bold barely red letters spelling ‘MISSING’ just down the counter (all wrinkled paper and pale colours). He’s changed, all rough edges, muscle and a bunch of scars that even the best healing spell couldn't make them disappear. But. He still has those droopy eyes, square jaw and moles scattered all around his skin. He is still Steve Harrington.
clink, clink
The bell over the door sounds, someone comes in, not the person of his rag tag group he expected but the one he’s glad will be the first. He doesn’t even turn around, his lips curl up and god, it's been years since he has seen anyone from The Party, his original party. He missed them like burning fire in his veins, his will to live and determination to come back home.
Home. He is back home.
He hears Hopper come closer as he finally turns around with a bright but calm smile.
“Harrington?”
“The one and only.”
——
Hopper was having a boring day, it was not bad, boring means nothing new, boring means nothing dangerous, boring means safety. So when a call from the bartender of the ‘Hideaway’ comes, talking about being able to identify a person that just came in as the same as the one a very old missing flyer he had, he knew something was about to happen.
And something did happen. Because the face looking at him is the one of Steve Harrington, the same face that haunts him in his nightmares like another face of one of his children that he couldn't protect.
He wasn't expecting anything, maybe a false alarm, but when the man sitting in the bar stools turned around to face him, a cocky smile plastered on his lips and a prideful voice responding “The one and only” when Hopper blurted out his last name? Yeah, there’s no denying the fact that the teenager he lost six years ago has come back.
The confidence that once was borderline egocentric everytime he went to stop one of Harrington’s parties and has become less while being around the kids has now settled down in Steve's skin in a way that exude trust in himself, acknowledge of one's worth and– excuse the redundancy– confidence.
The person in front of Hopper is no longer a teenager but a man, a man who has more scars than the Upside Down left him before disappearing, with longer hair and muscles that his clothes can't hide, a firm posture like a soldier ready to attack even in his leisure time and with what looks like a sword hanging at the side of his waist.
“Harrington… Steve, where have you been, kid?” He asks instead of all the parts of his brain screaming alarm bells that this is probably a trap, that Vecna has come back and now he's the next victim. He pushes all those thoughts down because that's his son! Dammit.
No matter how much that teenager has changed, he knows his kid and that person is his. God dammit. He’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.
The man– Steve– gives him a side looped smile and signals the bartender that he's done. “You’ll not believe me if I tell you”, he huffs.
“Really, kid?” Hopper arches an eyebrow.
“Really, the UD will sound like a joke compared with all the shit that happened."
Hopper notes how Steve doesn't call him out with the nickname, kid. Steve doesn't feel like the man he looks, at least to Hopper. He must be 24 by now, still too young compared to and old man like Jim.
Hopper doesn't comment on it either.
“But here is no place to talk about it, shall we go?” Steve stands up and stretches his back, the bartender gives him the bill with an odd look between the two men.
Steve looks back at Hopper with the most eat shitting grin he can do.
If Hopper didn't think he was Steve before, he definitely thinks that now.
With a huff and mild shake of his head, he puts down a few dollars, checking that they're enough before thanking the bartender and guiding Steve to his car.
“I might be rich back in Eloise but I don't think they would have accepted a bunch of golden coins as a good way to pay in here,” Steve enters the car happier than normal and with an expression of pure delight.
“What the hell is Eloise and why would you pay with golden coins?”
“A kingdom from another world," Steve says like it's common sense, the little shit, he really hasn't changed that much.
"I just came back from a six-year-long real life DnD campaign, Hop, give me some slack.” Never mind. That sounds like it would change a person.
“What the fuck, kid.”
“Language.”
Hopper looks back at Steve in total bewilderment while he just laughs. Jim is too old for this shit. He starts the car and drives away.