Hawkins, Indiana – Autumn, 1989 Location: Robin’s living room, bathed in pumpkin-orange light
The air smelled like cinnamon-sugar donuts and takeout fries, and the couch creaked when Steve sat down, baby in arms, with the self-consciousness of someone holding a live bomb—but the warmest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Alright, alright, drumroll please,” Robin said, perched cross-legged on the floor in front of him. She made a bad cymbal noise with her mouth and reached out like she might touch the bundle. “I need to see the hair. Does he have The Hair?”
Steve adjusted the baby blanket—navy with yellow ducks stitched in little rows—and gently turned his son so the group could get a good look. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is James Dustin Harrington. But we call him Jimmy.”
There was a beat of silence before Dustin choked on his soda.
“Wait, what?” he blurted, nearly spilling it.
“You named him after me?” he asked, voice pitching up in disbelief.
Steve gave a sheepish grin. “Yeah, well. There was only one person who believed in me before I believed in myself. Figured the kid deserved a little of that loyalty in his DNA.”
Robin made a soft, watery sound and got up to sit beside him on the couch, peering down at Jimmy like he was holy. “And the ‘James’ part?”
Steve looked down at his son. Small nose, beginning lashes, sleep-soft breath.
“James was what my mom wanted to name me. My dad said no. Figured someone should get a clean slate with it.”
The baby stirred, one of those milk-drunk flops where he puckered his lips and curled a tiny fist.
“Holy crap, he’s… like, perfect,” Dustin said, leaning over the couch arm. “He’s got your eyes. And a forehead the size of a drive-in screen. Congrats—he’s definitely yours.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Can I hold him?” Robin whispered, arms already out.
Steve nodded and shifted Jimmy into her arms, coaching her softly: “Support the neck. He likes the sway. But don’t get cocky.”
Robin cradled him like he was made of stardust. Her breath hitched, just a little.
“He’s a month old today,” Steve said, his voice barely above a breath.
Everyone went quiet. Jimmy let out a soft, squeaky grunt. They laughed.
“Man, Harrington,” Dustin said warmly, “I thought you peaked when you stopped sucking at basketball. But this… this is your magnum opus.”
“Tell that to my sleep schedule,” Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t slept more than four hours since—ever. And spit-up? Honestly, I just admire the commitment.”
Robin nodded solemnly. “That’s the sleep-deprivation talking. But I’ve never been prouder.”
“You’re gonna be a good dad,” Dustin added, punching Steve lightly in the arm. “He’s gonna grow up thinking you’re the coolest.”
Steve blinked too fast. “Thanks.”
Jimmy cooed. Steve leaned in, brushing his knuckle over his son’s soft cheek.
Nothing compared to this. Nothing like the warm weight of new life, the tiny breaths, the soft future curled against his chest.
The room wasn’t haunted. It was golden. Safe. Familiar.
And in the drowsy hush, James “Jimmy” Harrington cracked open one sleepy eye—like he already knew he was home.
⸻
🍼 Choose Your Next Path:
➤ Visit Grandma: Steve takes Jimmy to meet his mom for the first time, navigating old wounds and unexpected tenderness.
➤ Midnight Bottle: Steve is up alone with Jimmy one night, singing to him while thinking about who he is now—and who he wants to be.
➤ The Eddie Visit: Eddie drops by with a tiny, handmade onesie that says “Metal Baby.” Chaos (and deep feelings) ensue.
➤ Flash Forward: Five years later, Steve’s teaching Jimmy to ride a bike. He’s got one on training wheels—and one surprise sibling on the way.
➤ Stay Here: You stay curled up on Robin’s couch as the light fades, Jimmy asleep, safe in the arms of a found family.