Nightmares - s.h

Nightmares

Pairings: DILF! Steve Harrington x MILF! Reader
Warnings: Reader is a biological mother, She/Her pronouns Strong Language, Drowning metaphor??
Author's Note: this has the potential to be a series of blurbs,,if y'all want it hehe

Summary: Steve sleeps on the couch after an argument, he realises the things he takes for granted. 

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The couch is uncomfortable, the fabric itchy and the springs tense. But it felt heavenly in comparison to the tension and heat of his marital bed. Your back fully turned to him, practically hanging off the mattresses edge. Avoiding any form of contact with your husband. Your six children, usually sleeping soundly in their own rooms, had elected to take Steve's vacant spot in the bed. Cuddling into their upset mother - who was trying to hide it. Steve made his bed on the sofa suite and now must lay in it.

You'd argued over practically nothing - he thought. Who cared that he hadn't done the dishes, or helped his eldest, Lenore, with her school project - that was due tomorrow, you were so to kind to remind. And no, He hadn't emptied the tumble-dryer like you'd asked him to, for the 3rd wash in a row. Nor had he cleaned up Rory's collection of race cars.

But, was that deserving of the exasperated sighs and harsh words you came out with? Arguably, yes. But Steve Harrington has a headstrong man.

So he tossed and turned on the couch, tired from the arguing but without the relief of a good night's sleep. He wanted to clamber up the stairs and snuggle up with his brood as if nothing were wrong, but your stubbornness forbade him.

Your words bounced around his "thick skull" as he tried to understand the reason why what he did (or didn't do) was wrong. They stung to say as much as they stung to hear, but if this was the way that your nearly thirty-year-old husband was going to learn to take care of himself, and set a good example to his children, it's the way you're going to have to play it.

"Grow up? You fucking grow up," he muttered as he shut his eyes, "Sleeping on the couch over a petty fuckin' argument. Bullshit"

It took him a while to dose off, but once he did, his sleep was pretty good. He dreamed, which he seldom did. A nightmare, though Steve didn't realise it at first. Not one of interdimensional monsters, like usual. He dreamt of himself, exactly as he was now.

He was alone, standing at the front door of the house you shared. The big wooden door was now painted cherry red, the way you always wanted it, but Steve never got round to it. Muddy boots aligned against the porch wall, neatly. The sun beat down on his back, as he dug in his pocket for his keys. Not that they worked when he tried them. When did we change the locks? He thought to himself, jiggling the handle.

The house was almost identical to when he left it, except for the door's colour change, along with the new locks. The same flower baskets hung from the arched bay window. Their big family car was parked in the driveway. He peered into the living room. The same couch, The same bric-a-brac toys strewn everywhere. He followed the brick walls around the side, unlatching the fence gate and stepping into the back garden.

Rory and Janie ran around manicured grass. The rattle of their young screams as they danced through the sprinkler system, dressed very similarly in almost nothing at all. His 2 eldest children hung from the climbing frame. Lenore, teaching her younger sister, Isla to hang upside-down from her ankles. Everything was normal as he walked further into the garden. He was spotted by Rory as he ran from the sprinkler. "Daddy!" He shouted, jumping into Steve's arms.

"I thought we wouldn't see you until next weekend?" Lenore asks, leaping from the monkey bars, and rushing to hug him.

The Harrington brood were a lovable bunch, but Steve doesn't recall receiving this much attention in the 9 short years that they'd been a proper family. Normally when he'd come home to his children, they'd blank him, unless he was their mother, or until they needed something. His eyes scan the garden, landing upon his two youngest boys with their mother. Charlie sucks his thumb as he attempts to crawl using one arm. Jacob is attached to Y/N's breast, suckling gently.