In a Cottage in the Woods There Lived a Witch

Blessed Beltane

Steve Harrington was not a morning person. Never had been. Probably never would be. On market days when he had to be up and out of his house at the absolute ass crack of dawn, he suffered. He drowned his half-aware sorrows in three thermoses of coffee before his eyes focused. He was grumpy and bitchy for the first hour of work. In school, he habitually skipped his first period and thereafter made sure his actual classes didn't start until second period when possible.

Sabbats, however... those were a different story. Sabbats were special. Sabbats were celebrations. They were highly anticipated, exciting, and electric.

Which was why, despite not being a morning person per se, Steve still rose with his alarm before the sun in the middle of March.

Ostara.

The wooden floors beneath his feet were early spring cool, creaking with age, and familiar. Outside of his home, trees loomed sleepily as they swayed in the early morning breeze. Lazy and heavy with sleep like the rest of the world was. Birdsong was only just beginning to sound with the very first larks and finches who woke and accompanied him as he eased into this holy day.

Coffee first. Because even if this was a sabbat, Steve was still himself and he wasn't going to be worth much uncaffeinated. And because Steve was himself, the first few blueberry pancakes were less than show-stopping. But that was okay. Those would go on the bottom of the pile and end up on his plate. It wasn't until his second cup that his flips were any good, anyway. While those were going, he stuck the buttermilk scones into the to bake, the dough already made and shaped the night before and chilled in the freezer for convenience. It was a sabbat and it was special, but Steve wasn't an insane person.

Around his third cup of coffee, the bolt in his front door slid open and chaos immediately erupted. 7 teenagers in various states of awareness piled into his kitchen, already grabbing plates and cutlery, despite the cries of one very frantic woman to "greet your mother before you start eating his food, you heathens!"

"Morning, Robin," Steve grinned, leaning into her lips against his cheek. Nancy was next, kissing his other side. "How was the lock-in at the temple?"

Robin only groaned, leaving Nancy to answer.

"It was how it is with every sabbat. The kids are half-feral when their parents are around. With it just being Robbie and I keeping them on track... they didn't make it easy on us. I'm at least 95% certain that Dustin snuck in a bag of pixie sticks. I think everyone passed out at about 3 this morning." Nancy glanced at Robin who nodded softly, her long hands wrapped around a mug of tea that Steve had brewed for her.

"Any coffee left," Jonathan asked in place of an actual greeting. Steve only smiled and waved a hand. The machine gurgled awake and began a new pot, pulling water and grounds from the reserves on either side.

Karen and Ted filed in, Holly perched on her mother's hip but reaching out with happy little cries when she saw Steve, who accepted her on his own hip followed by a lingering hug from her mother. Ted clapped Steve on the shoulder as he passed, already scolding his son about language and to lower his volume. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair were next, accompanied by Claudia who made a beeline for Steve and bundled him into a warm, tight hug. Susan, the newest of their coven, arrived a few minutes later, a shy, tight smile on her face. Even a year after her arrival, she was still so uncertain of her belonging to them, despite how much they all reassured her.

Argyle was the most awake, bursting onto the scene with his usual singing call of "morning, family," with arms stretched wide over his head out to the sides as though to accept the embrace of all. What he got, however, was a smattering of grunts and a few muffled responses around the rims of mugs.