The Byers’ house was full—overflowing, really. Every seat was taken, plates were clinking, and the living room had been turned into an impromptu dining space to fit everyone. But in the middle of the cheerful chaos, one person stood out—not for being loud or attention-seeking, but for doing the quiet, thankless work that kept things running smoothly.

Steve Harrington, seventeen years old and somehow the most responsible person in the room, moved from one end of the table to the other, refilling drinks, reminding kids to eat their vegetables, and gently scolding Dustin for trying to sneak an extra brownie before dinner. Again.

“Dustin, I swear to God, if you get a sugar crash and start crying during Monopoly later, I’m not carrying you to bed.”

The adults watched him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. There was something about Steve’s presence—steady, warm, instinctively parental—that didn't quite match the reputation he’d once had as the careless, self-centered king of Hawkins High. That version of Steve had been long gone, replaced with someone who moved through the world like he was built to care for it.

Joyce caught herself smiling as Steve tucked a napkin into Max’s collar when she refused to do it herself. Hopper raised an eyebrow when Steve reached out to calm a fidgety El with a hand on her shoulder and a quiet, “Hey, you good?” Robin just smirked knowingly from her seat, watching him like she’d seen it all a hundred times before.

He wasn't their dad, their brother, or their babysitter—but he was there, in all the ways that mattered. Somehow, Steve had ended up as the Party’s default mom. Not by force, but by instinct. He remembered how each of them liked their sandwiches. He carried bandaids in his glove compartment. He hugged like he meant it. He beamed with pride every time one of them accomplished something, no matter how small.

Especially Dustin. God, the way he looked at Dustin—like the kid had invented fire or cured cancer.

Steve Harrington hadn’t birthed a single one of them, but it didn’t matter. He was made to love like this. Fiercely. Softly. Unconditionally. Like a mother without the title, destined to give all the love he had to kids who needed it most.

And in this house, filled with mismatched people brought together by trauma, friendship, and fate—Steve was exactly where he belonged.