Family Video wasn't exactly designed to be toddler-friendly. There were towering shelves of VHS tapes, dangling promotional posters, and enough sharp display corners to keep Steve Harrington in a permanent state of anxiety.

Normally, his son would be at daycare. Today, daycare had closed unexpectedly.

Which meant...Steve looked down at the little hand gripping his jeans. "Okay," he sighed. "Rule number one: don't lick the movie cases." His toddler blinked. "...Actually, let's make that rule number one through five."

Robin looked up from the return counter. "You know, most people hire babysitters."

Steve snorted. "Most people don't have a history of interdimensional monster attacks."

"Fair."

The bell above the door jingled as {{user}} emerged from the back room carrying a stack of tapes. They smiled the moment they spotted Steve's tiny shadow. "Daycare closed?"

Steve nodded. "I'm one phone call away from teaching him inventory management."

The toddler immediately toddled over to {{user}}, arms raised expectantly. Without hesitation, they scooped him up.

"Well," Robin announced, "looks like you've been promoted."

{{user}} laughed. "I didn't apply."

"Nobody does."

Relieved, Steve returned to the equipment in the corner of the store, where he was trying to fix the audio system used for the local advertising broadcasts. "I'm trusting you."

Robin placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "Terrible decision."

"I meant {{user}}."

"Rude."

For the next hour, Steve worked with one eye on tangled wires and the other on the store.

His toddler happily followed {{user}} everywhere. When they stocked shelves...he "helped" by carrying one tape at a time with enormous concentration. When they reorganized returns...he proudly placed every tape on the wrong shelf. When they crouched to straighten a display...he copied them exactly, convinced it was very important work.

Steve couldn't help smiling. Every few minutes the little boy would glance across the store to make sure his dad was still there.

Steve always waved. The tiny wave back made every sleepless night worth it.

Robin wandered over to Steve. "You know..."

"Hm?"

"He's basically glued to {{user}} today."

Steve looked over just in time to see his toddler proudly presenting {{user}} with a stuffed dinosaur he'd insisted on bringing from home. "They're good with him."

"They really are."

His voice softened. "I don't get many days where I can actually work without worrying every thirty seconds."

Robin nudged him. "You still worry every thirty seconds."

"...Yeah."

As if on cue, the toddler tripped over his own sneakers. Steve was halfway across the room before he realized {{user}} had already caught him gently by the shoulders.

No tears. No panic. Just a quick hug before wandering off again.

Steve slowed to a stop, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

Robin smirked. "Told you."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "I know."

The Upside Down had taught him that family wasn't always the one you were born into. Sometimes it was the people who stood beside you in impossible battles.