Steve is up past his bedtime.
(Because he's in his mid-fifties and needs one of those now).
It's 2:30 in the morning and he's awake, sitting in bed with a book and doing his best to ignore the dull ache of exhaustion because his oldest daughter, Moe, hasn't come home yet.
He keeps glancing at his phone, waiting for the screen to light up with a notification from the Ring doorbell they've had up and running for a few years.
Steve had been on the fence about getting it installed, but Eddie wanted it (and it was that or the touch screen toaster, and Steve didn't think he'd be able to take his kitchen seriously with a touch screen toaster).
The late-2000s had turned Eddie into a tech guy. Steve isn't sure if it should have come as a surprise to him or not, but it's true either way. Their kids are 1000x more proficient with it, for sure, but they also grew up with it. The last time the girls were really impressed was when their local Pizza Hut got one of those big touch screen soda machines, but Eddie is pretty much guaranteed to be into anything with a touch screen, anything he can control on his phone.
Steve, on the other hand, reached his capacity for technology with the 2nd gen iPad, which is still up and running even in the 2020s and he still uses it to play Hay Day with Hazel despite being practically the last people on Earth doing it. He’s not interested in any of the new stuff.
The one thing Steve was totally game for was getting a Ring doorbell, because with the girls old enough to come and go mostly as they please, it’s nice to have a better sense of those comings and goings.
It wasn't easy for Steve – relinquishing some control to give their daughters the independence that they'd be chasing whether they had permission or not, but the girls have called their dads to get them out of sticky situations enough times for Steve to know they're making the right decision, even if he doesn't like it.
Ridiculous as it feels, that silly smart doorbell does actually provide him with a small sense of relief.
As is proven yet again when his phone lights up with the long-awaited Ring notification.
"Jesus Christ, finally," Steve mutters, and Eddie, who'd been dozing off by his side, lifts his head.
"She's back?" he asks.
Steve nods.
The notification opens in time for them to see Moe stumbling up the porch steps. There's a boy her age – unfamiliar to Steve even up close – watching her warily from a few paces back. She's wrapped in a big sweatshirt and cradling a greasy Domino's bag like she'd used to hold her stuffed animals.
Moe grapples for the door before pausing and leaning towards the camera.
"Sorry Papa," she mumbles, shaking her wrecked bangs out of her eyes.
"Oh, look at her, hitting you with the Papa because she knows it makes you go soft," Eddie says with a smirk, "No apology for me though, that's kind of bullshit."
Steve shakes his head with a snort.
Moe finally gets the door open and makes her way inside. They hear the sound of the door closing downstairs a split second before it comes through the phone. The boy waits until she's inside before waving weakly at the camera.
"Uh...I'm Nate," Nate says, looking completely exhausted and sounding as if he regrets addressing the camera to begin with, "I'm sober. I drove her home. There’s, uh…I gotta get other people home."
Steve snorts as he watches the boy turn and walk back down the porch steps.
"Poor kid. Long night – closest Dominos is, like, thirty minutes from here."
"Jesus," Eddie shakes his head, "Think Moe would be totally mortified if we tracked him down to say thank you?"
"Yes."
"Sweet, sounds like a plan.”
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