— love, max | steve harrington & max mayfield
summary: steve is the first to visit max in the hospital because he was her and the other kids' self-proclaimed protector. he should have been there to protect the only family he's ever known. (aka a fix-it fic inspired by this thread by @creelhousesteve)
tags: steve & max, fix it fic, canon adjacent, some unhealthy feelings, guilt, possibly anti-billy, average writing
a/n: i have too many feelings about steve & max, can you tell? we were robbed by the duffers. robbed.
“No fucking way,” Dustin whistles, as he, Lucas, Will and Mike peel back the wrapping paper of the box seated atop the tiny table, to reveal the newest Nintendo Entertainment System Console.
“No. Way,” they murmur in awed unison, just as Mike whistles.
“I didn’t know what to get you nerds, so I got this for you to share,” Steve explains, as the boys fawn over the gift, oohing and aahing and chatting animatedly as they start to unbox the video game.
“Now, I don’t want any fights. I don’t care how you share it but if I see any of you shitheads falling into trouble over a video game, I’m taking it back,” he adds sternly.
Dustin rolls his eyes, not bothering to spare Steve a glance, too engrossed in scanning the instruction manual he is holding.
“Don’t be such a Dad, Steve,” he quips and Steve scowls at him.
“Yeah, Steve! Don’t be such a dad,” Max echoes as she tries to snatch the manual from Dustin who turns away from her reach. El giggles from beside her.
“Watch it, Mayfield,” Steve chides, but there's barely any anger in his voice. Max feigns annoyance, her frown quickly disappearing as Steve removes her gift from his bag. It is a flat, elongated box that she tears the gift paper off of at lightning speed. The box falls open to reveal a skateboard— a proper one, wooden board with metal wheels and cool graffiti.
“I know you broke yours and I haven’t seen you skate in like ages but, hmph—” his monologue gets cut off by Max tackling him in a bear hug. He isn’t as much repulsed as he is surprised; Max Mayfield has never been the affectionate one in the brood.
“Thanks, Steve,” she mumbles into his side and just as quickly lets go with a clearing of her throat. Steve watches, bemused, as she turns the board over in her hands, gives the wheels a spin and turns back to look at him, lips pulled apart in a dazzling smile.
Her eyes are shining.
Steve has always hated hospitals. The overpowering scent of antiseptic, wet mops and sickness fills his nostrils.
He hates it.
He hates how blindingly white the room he is standing in is; how devoid of all color it is, except for the stark burst of flaming red at the very center of the room.
He hates the sight before him.
Max Mayfield lies on the hospital bed, as if sleeping— a sight that would have normally comforted him. Only, she isn't asleep.
Her hands and legs are swaddled in thick rolls of plaster and her neck is encased in a tight brace. Dark bags have formed under her eyes, which look harsher in the white fluorescent lights of the room. Two pipes trail into her nose— the only sign that she's getting any oxygen because he can hardly make out the rise and fall of her chest. What stands out most is the scarring. Lines that resemble dark tears emerge from her eyes, flowing right down to her cheekbones. A noticeable marring of her porcelain skin, a reminder of the horrors she has endured.
She looks small, incredibly small, drowning in the blue hospital gown and cocoons of plaster. The sight guts Steve every time his brain registers it.
The doctors say that even if Max wakes up, she may never be able to see again.
He has to clench his jaw and look to the pristine white floor to keep from tearing up.
Lucas had described to him, as they had driven to the hospital, what had happened. How she had been when Vecna had got her, how her heart had stopped. When Steve himself heard the fourth chime in the Upside-Down, the ground had slipped from underneath his feet.
He couldn’t bring himself to imagine what Lucas must’ve felt, bearing witness to such a horrific event.
He casts a glance at the boy standing beside him. His left eye is swollen, a cut across his lip that bleeds occasionally. He can see that he's shaking slightly, eyes fixated on Max. Involuntarily, he reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"Lucas," he says, and the boy turns his face towards Steve.
"She's going to wake up. She will," he assures, and hopes to hell that his words don’t sound as empty as he feels.
"You don't know that," Lucas croaks, eyes swimming with tears.
"Hey, hey," he murmurs, pulling Lucas a little closer.
"You have to believe she's going to be okay. For her. For you. For all of us. If anyone’s a fighter, it’s Max. You know that."
Lucas lets out a muffled sob.
Steve's gut wrenches.
He wants to believe that anytime now, Max is going to wake up and call him something stupid. He can almost picture the smile that compliments her cherry red hair as she sneers, "You look like you haven't slept in days, Steve. Whatever will the girls say?"
"Hey, can I sit?" Steve asks hesitantly.
Max is sitting at the desk, doodling something onto a sheet of paper, the faint beats of Kate Bush's “Running Up The Hill” emanating from her walkman.
She scrunches her forehead, pausing the song on the player and he asks the question again. She nods a yes.
"Er, how are you?"
Max gives Steve one of her trademark depan looks. Well, he deserved that.
"As fine as someone who's probably dying can be." She delivers the sentence with the devastation of a sucker punch but Steve hears the accompanying tremor in her voice. His chest caves.
"You're not dying," he avows, with just as much finality as she has in her set jaw.
A beat of silence passes.
"Did you read my letter?"
"I'm not reading your letter, Mayfield," he says firmly. Max doesn't look at him. "Because you’re going to be okay."
It is the truth. He isn’t reading the letter. There is no need for it. Max is going to be just okay.
A frown upturns her mouth but she doesn’t contend further, only looks away.
“I’m scared, Steve,” she murmurs moments later, voice cracking. Suddenly, she looks tiny, like the twelve year old Max Mayfield he had met for the very first time. Then, there had been a bright spark in her eyes. Now, it seems to have dimmed by flecks of fear that seem out of place.
The only time Steve had seen her look this terrified was at Billy Hargrove’s house, a lifetime ago. A pang resonates in his chest as Max wrings her hands together.
He leans in closer, noticing the slight quiver of Max’s mouth, like she’s about to cry.
“Hey, hey,” he begins, softly. Max looks at him, lips pursed. She looks defiant but slightly on the edge, scattered. A stark juxtaposition that makes him reach out for her hand. She lets him take it.
“You’re going to be okay, Max. Nothing— nothing is going to happen to you," he says, giving her hand a squeeze. They’re alarmingly cold, and Steve fights the urge to pull her into a hug.
"I’ll make sure of it.”
Steve feels like a fraud.
Standing here, watching the kid he had promised to keep safe, fight for her life, feels like a failure he can’t ever come back from.
He had sworn, all those years ago, to protect these kids; taken it upon himself to look after them not only because they were his friends but because they were so awfully young and alone, facing dangers that were stuff of nightmares and should’ve remained as such. He had promised to himself, that night in the Upside-Down when they were distracting the army of demodogs, that he would never leave these kids to fend for themselves like his own parents had.
Promised to himself that he would always show up, always listen and always defend.
And he had failed.
"I'm going to— I have something to do. I’ll... I’ll be back," Lucas mumbles, slicing the thick air with his words and rushes out of the room before Steve can stop him.
He decides not to follow.
A suffocating silence befalls the room, save for the steady beep of the machine beside Max. Steve slowly edges closer to the bed. Up close, the bags under her eyes look darker and she seems fragile— brittle, almost.
Steve's hands are trembling as he grasps at the foot of the bed. From his back pocket, he extracts a piece of paper. It's creased from the folds, bits tearing off the corner because he has fiddled with it one too many times.
He didn’t want to open it. Had resolved against it, even when his worst fears had been confirmed about Max that fateful night. But standing before her, he thinks he owes her this much at least.
Unfurling the paper, Steve starts to read the scratchy writing on it and maybe it’s his own head but the room becomes a little darker around him.
“Dear Steve,” he begins, trying to clear his throat but his voice comes out hoarse. He doesn't know why he is reading it out loud, doesn't care. “I know I annoyed the hell out of you, but I had good reason— you can be insufferable.”
For a brief moment, he imagines Max giggling at the words as he knows she would, the image making his heart warm.
“As are we to be honest. Guess that excuses your exasperation with us somewhat,” he continues and the tiniest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Anyway, jokes aside,” he reads, “I wanted to thank you. I never really thanked you for saving me from Billy that night.”
Steve contemplates not reading further, his heart already beginning to sink, mind being yanked to memories he hadn't thought about in a while. He takes a deep breath and then continues.
"I was so terrified. I really think... he would've killed me that night if you hadn't stepped in. I think, that's when I realised how fucked up our situation is and how lucky we are to have you watching our backs."
The words choke in his throat. He really can't bring himself to look at Max.
"You're a good person, Steve. Thank you for always looking out for us. We don’t say it cause we’re idiots but we all know we wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for you,” his breath shakes, “And, at the risk of sounding lame...”
His throat burns and vision blurs as his eyes catch up to the rest of the words. He blinks back the tears, sniffing and clearing his throat, albeit in vain.
“… thank you for being the brother I always wished I had. Love, Max.”
Steve prays for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Max's words echo inside his mind like a resounding knell.
“I'm sorry," he whispers, the apology bubbling up his throat. He wants to say so much but words die on his tongue. His hands are shaking now and he can feel the surge of something heavy in his chest.
"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I should've been there to protect you."
It's stupid. Max can't hear him.
Or maybe she can, he doesn't know anymore. Maybe there's power in prayer and some truth in all that bull his mother used to tell him when he was a child.
"I'm sorry," he whispers again, incapable of any other words. There's a pressure on his chest, crippling and heavy and he's afraid to exhale too fast.
Just then, there is a clamor of voices and the door opens, causing him to hurriedly shove the paper deep inside his back pocket. In come the kids, pouring in through the door, faces looking grief-stricken and ashy.
Lucas has a book in his hands, followed by Dustin— the usual cheery smile on his face replaced by something alien— and Erica. Lucas moves to the wall beside Max's bed and sticks something on it— a paper with childlike drawing— and moves to reach for her hand.
He gives it a squeeze, Steve's heart feeling heavier as he watches the three of them mill about in the room— not knowing what to do with their hands, their bodies, their beings.
He knows that none of them will ever be the same after this. Robbed of their innocence, their joy at an age when his biggest problem had been some girl in his class.
And as Dustin comes to stand beside him, a vacant look in his eyes that makes him almost unrecognisable, Steve knows that he can never fail again.
Because, even if he apologized for the rest of his life and a seven million after, he doesn't think he'd come close to deserving forgiveness.
Thank you for being the brother I always wished I had.
He would do anything to protect them.
Even if it costs him his own life.
Especially then.
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Having thoughts of The Party being touchy as all fuck after everything.
Like you cannot enter nor leave any kind of hang out without a hug, high-five, pat, or anything from everyone you were hanging out with.
And then, suddenly, you aren’t able to leave without a kiss or hug of some kind from Steve.
It started after the bullshit that was the Starcourt Mall. The kids were leaving Steve’s house from a DnD session maybe 2 months before the Byers left for Cali.
Dustin was taking forever to pull his shoes on and get out the house to his moms car and everyone was complaining. It was one of those rare times where Steve wasn’t the one carting them all around— they all had their own rides.
Dustin got his shoes on and Steve handed him his bag and— without thinking— pressed a kiss to the top of his hat before waving him out the door.
The rest of the kids are silent until Mike speaks up bitchily “what about us, asshole?”
Steve has no idea what they mean until El points to her head with a grin. Steve deals out head and forehead kisses for everyone and waves them off to their respective rides.
And then it just— sticks. At first it’s with just the kids whenever he sees them. He’ll usually greet them with a hug or an exasperated sigh and then say goodbye with a kiss to their foreheads.
Not even Mike complains. This is the kind of shit he never got while growing up— might as well make the best of it.
And then it migrates to Robin as well, and the Nancy is joining in on the hugs (they’re still too awkward for the kisses but the hugs are enough for now).
And Steve never holds back, not even in public. Again, no one complains.
And that’s how Hellfire finds out about the kissing arrangement (that might be the title of this if I make it an actual fic). They watch as Steve presses a forehead kiss to Mike, Lucas, and Dustin before waving them off and then presses a kiss to Max’s head and giving her a tight hug.
The guys try to make fun of the kids for it but none of them are embarrassed.
“It’s Steve, dude. He’s like a mom.”
“The kisses are actually really comforting.”
“It’s a Party thing.”
And then the fuckery of 1986 and Vecna happens and suddenly Eddie’s in on the hugs and pats and high-fives.
And then.
And then.
He’s in on the kisses.
Steve doles out the kisses like usual one night after Hellfire and gives one to everyone— including Eddie.
And Eddie panics and gives Steve one right back.
And then the kids are going feral about wanting to give Steve a kiss too.
And Eddie leaves during the chaos.
And then they don’t talk about it.
Until Steve and Eddie do it again.
And the kids accept is as the new normal; you have to give Steve a kiss back.
And then Steve and Eddie have an excuse to kiss each other on the foreheads and cheeks and noses.
One night they’re hanging out, just the two of them at the trailer after Wayne left for work.
Steve had greeted Eddie with a tight hug the moment he’d gotten in the trailer. Eddie had squeezed back just as tight if not tighter.
Steve was getting ready to leave, and on instinct leant in to kiss Eddie, but Eddie was also leaning in to kiss Steve. So they meet in the middle and accidentally kiss on the lips.
And then the new normal for Steve and Eddie is kissing on the lips goodbye.
Idk, just Steve being a very touchy feely person makes me so happy
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