Ever since he was young, Steve always knew he wanted a big family. Maybe it was due to the disconnected nature of his family growing up, or maybe it was being forced to take care of Nancy’s little brother and his friends. None of that really mattered, all he knew for certain was that a big family was in his future. All that mattered was finding someone who shared that desire.

Despite his pining for Nancy, he ultimately realised he never truly loved her, just the girl she was before it all. Sweet, but headstrong, ambitious but generous. He liked the qualities and the face, not the girl. That’s not to say he didn’t appreciate her as a friend, of course. In fact he came to appreciate more than he ever had when she brought you into his life.

You and her were friends from college, and when Steve once came to visit, she’d introduced the pair of you at a party. You were fresh faced and beautiful, smart, funny. You were everything, really, if you asked Steve. It didn’t take long for you to hit it off, for his visits to Nancy turned into visits to you (the excuse of visiting Nance when really he was coming to see you started to be less convincing when she dropped out, however).

You’d moved in together right after college, settling down in a little apartment down in Hawkins. That apartment soon turned into a house in the suburbs, with a picket fence and basketball hoop in the driveway. And soon that house was filled with more than just the pair of you; two girls, and a little boy. Steve was happy to compromise from six little nuggets to three, because how could anything be more perfect than what you were offering to give him?

Steve and your son, Oliver, come crashing in around six, Oliver rambling on about ‘did you see my catch?’ whilst Steve praised him enthusiastically. “Wait, don’t come in!” You call out, voice panicked. Steve automatically thinks the worst (hello, upside down trauma), but when he smells vanilla and rounds the corner with your son in tow, he realises all is well.

“Daddy! We said not to come in!” Audrey calls out, tone whiny and entitled to match the princess dress she was currently sporting. Your oldest, Taylor, keeps her focus on icing the cake, her hand steady as she pipes out the letters in red icing, whilst you try and cover the sight with your body, arms outstretched, whilst also trying to stop an eager Oliver from getting in the way and ultimately causing some mess.

“That wouldn’t happen to be for my birthday, would it?” Steve says with a grin, amused at how you feign defeat and put your hands on your hips with a pouty frown, trying (and failing) to look angry.