Chapter Text
Steve sank his lips further into the girl’s in front of him — he’d forgotten her name already, shit , Tammy? Sandra? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Unimportant. He raked his fingers through her blonde curls, giving them a light tug and earning a little gasp as he did so. Steve might not remember her name, but he knew how to do this. He’d called her baby until he knew she wouldn’t respond to anything else, until ripples of pleasure rocked through her body.
The old Harrington Charm.
Worked every time.
“Steven,” the young man pulled away from the girl’s lips — wet and rosy from where he’d kissed them — and cast his eyes to the door. He knew the curt, disappointed tone of his father anywhere. In fact, the absolute venom in his father’s voice made him feel a smug sense of pride.
He’d thrown the party last night because he knew his father would be back in time to see the destruction. There were bottles and cans positively everywhere, a stale odour of smoke hung around, musty and sickly, and Steve had even left his father’s overpriced liquor cabinet hanging open, advertising their efforts to break into it and take what they could.
Of course, he would find himself a girl to greet his father with, always decidedly different enough that his father couldn’t convince himself that this was the same girl as last time. His last fling had been a redhead, hair long and flowing down her back. Nothing like the curly blonde locks, which stopped just below the shoulders of… Lola?
Steve pulled his eyes away from his father in the kitchen doorway, looking to his right where she stood. She was wearing his clothes — he always made sure that they were wearing his clothes. He slid his right hand down from her waist, cupping around her ass gently, resting on the back pocket of his sweatpants. Steve shifted his gaze back to his father, daring him to voice the anger and disappointment which filled every crease on his weathered face. Much more weathered than the older man realised.
“ Baby …” Steve emphasised the word, practically purring in her ear, eyes still on his father. “This is my father, the great David Harrington.”
“Catherine,” she stepped forward eagerly, holding out a polite hand. Steve smiled to himself, I was way off the mark with that one, not even close . “Cathy… It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Steve watched as his father gingerly took the girl’s hand, before giving it a firm shake. That was one thing about David Harrington: he may be a fucking asshole , but he’s not impolite.
“Baby,” Steve crooned again and stepped forward to meet her, a step closer to his father, a step closer to being out of the kitchen. “Why don’t we go and get pancakes? My treat.”
Cathy nodded so hard that Steve was slightly worried she’d hurt herself, but the worry was fleeting. She let out an excited squeal as Steve pressed his hand into the small of her back, guiding her out of the kitchen and past the daggers his father was shooting at him.
“We’ll be talking about this, Steven.”
“Oh I’m sure we will,” Steve replied, not even bothering to look back.
*
Steve’s arm was slung around Cathy as he drove them to his favourite diner; the windows were down, the wind rushed through their hair and a giggle escaped the girl’s lips. She seemed happy, carefree, and Steve gave her shoulder a light squeeze.
I’m not looking for anything serious , Steve had told her last night, and she had nodded enthusiastically. Steve might have a reputation in Hawkins for the sheer amount of girls he was going through lately, but he was always honest, he wasn’t about to be a literal heartbreaker. Every girl that accompanied him to his room at a party knew exactly how long they’d be around for, and they agreed. He took them all out for breakfast the next morning, not committed to being a total jerk; he always paid, and he always tipped the waitress well.
“So,” the girl started, much more on edge than she had been in the face of Steve’s father. She pushed a lone blueberry around her plate, having long given up on the stack of pancakes. Steve eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup, a meagre attempt to settle his stomach, it seemed useless now, especially when he knew what conversation she was starting. About half of the girls did the same.
“So,” he repeated.
“I enjoyed last night,” there was a faint pink blush on her cheeks and something siren-like in her eyes as she looked up at Steve through curled eyelashes. Last night, it had driven him crazy – well, crazy enough .
“Me too,” he agreed, hoping the sincerity came through in his voice.
“We should do it again some time.”
There it was.
Steve sighed minutely, not wanting her to catch his disappointment. “I meant what I said, baby, about not looking for anything serious…”
“Sleeping with someone twice doesn’t mean you have to marry them,” she prodded, her eyes hungry. He had to admit, that had something stirring in him. He felt his tight lips forming a small smile and he put his coffee cup down so that she could see it too. Steve let his gaze fall over her again; she was back in the clothes she had worn to the party last night, clad in a skimpy top and tight pants. She wasn’t self-conscious about it, either, refusing Steve’s jacket when he had tried to drape it over her shoulders. She was confident, daring, maybe it wouldn’t hurt…
“Just think about it,” she smiled sweetly, sliding a napkin with her number on it across the table. Steve placed it in his pocket. He wasn’t about to tell her that he didn’t really sleep with people twice , that he switched it up every time he knew his parents would be home just to disappoint his father. Of course, there were many benefits for Steve, he couldn’t deny that. But he was having a lot of fun leaning into the ‘Family Disappointment’ title he was earning himself. If Steve was embarrassed by the Scoops Ahoy uniform, his father was absolutely mortified . So he wore it with pride, not needing the money, but feeling warm with the knowledge that he had some money that he had earned himself.
“You’re not gonna finish your breakfast?” Steve questioned.
She shook her head, so Steve flagged down the waitress with a friendly wave and a smile so that he could pay the bill.
“I have a shift soon, and I could use a shower before I head to Starcourt,” he explained sweetly. “I’ll take you home though.”
“Such a gentleman,” she mused, and Steve thought that she just might mean it.
*
David Harrington was waiting for his son when he returned, foot tapping in an agitated rhythm, arms tightly folded across his chest, face like thunder. Steve entered the house and tried to make his escape upstairs to his bathroom, but a stern voice made him stop two steps shy of the bottom step: “Steven. Come here.”
He didn’t have time for this right now.
With a sigh, Steve followed the voice to the kitchen, wondering if his father had moved at all, or whether he had stood there like a statue, awaiting his return.
“Hi dad,” Steve forced a smile. It was tight across his face, nothing like the gentle smiles he had given Cathy, or the smiles that arrived with the roaring laughter Robin elicited out of him the night before.
“Sit down,” he commanded, and Steve didn’t argue. “You need to stop this foolishness.”
“Foolishness?” Steve questioned, feigning innocence. He had been through this conversation enough times with his father that he knew exactly what his father was referring to.
“The partying, the girls. It’s high time that you grow up. Find a nice girl. Get a job,” Steve noticed that a vein was popping out of his father’s forehead. It throbbed as he emphasised the word nice , it was code for ‘stop sleeping around’.
“I have a job,” Steve reminded him. “I was about to shower so that I could get ready for my shift.”
“A respectable job,” his father clarified. “I have no idea why you insist on degrading yourself with that nonsense job of yours. No respectable establishment dresses their employees like… that .”
“I enjoy my job,” Steve shrugged. “It’s teaching me responsibility. That’s what you wanted. For me to be independent.” As if living on my own 90% of the time doesn’t teach me enough independence , Steve didn’t dare to voice the rest of his thoughts.
“You know that’s not what I want,” his father growled.
“And I need to date to find myself a nice girl,” Steve reminded him.
“What you’re doing is not dating ,” his father looked like he wanted to spit on Steve. He wouldn’t put it past him. Seeing his father so mad was actually quite entertaining.
“I’m going to be late for work,” Steve announced, standing up.
“You need to clean up your mess, Steven.”
“I will. Later,” Steve assured him. “I don’t have enough time before work.”
“And god, Steven, it smells of marijuana in here!” His father was possibly about to explode. He thought about calling out of work just to see that.
“I told them to take it outside,” Steve shrugged. “You know how parties are.”
“If I found out that you were anywhere near that stuff –”
How can you find anything out when you’re never here? Steve silently questioned him.
“I wasn’t,” Steve assured him. A lie. “I really need to get ready. Harringtons aren’t late.”
Steve’s slight sense of responsibility seemed to placate his father, for now. He took the stairs two at a time and turned the shower up to positively scalding, needing to feel something that wasn’t his father’s utter disgust.
*
“I hate it when your parents come into town,” Robin moaned, her arms pillowed under her head, resting face-down on the counter.
“You seemed to enjoy it last night,” Steve reminded her. “No one’s making you come to my parties.”
“Yes you are!” She looked up at him incredulously, “Steve, I’m your only friend that isn’t a child !”
“Fair point,” Steve smiled, but it didn’t make it up to his eyes. Robin could tell this just from his tone, and she turned her face to the side, peering up at Steve out of one eye.
“How bad was it?” Robin’s soothing tone made Steve’s shoulders sag, the tension bleeding out of them.
“The usual,” Steve took a damp washcloth and began wiping down the countertops, avoiding the spot where Robin was nursing her hangover. “I’m a disappointment, I need a nice girl and a real job. And he hopes I wasn’t doing drugs because he could smell,” Steve lowered his voice to a mocking whisper, “ Marijuana. ”
Robin let out an unflattering snort, “ God , could you imagine if he knew there was an actual drug dealer there?”
“There was?”
Robin pulled a face, “Steve, where did you think I got the joint from?”
“I didn’t put much thought into it,” Steve shrugged. “I was offered a joint, I said yes.”
The girl stared at her best friend for a moment, awestruck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
“Careful,” Steve smirked. “Keep saying things like that and I’ll be introducing you to my dad next.”
“In your dreams, Steve-o,” Robin howled with laughter, seeming to forget the pain in her head.
For now, Steve laughed too, and put the discussion with his father behind him.