Chapter Text
"This place is a fucking dump."
"Can you not be like this please," Robin huffs while hauling another bag out of the coupe "and can you give me a hand here?"
Rounding the car, Steve helps with the last of their luggage—though calling his one suitcase and duffel bag ‘luggage’ is a bit of an overstatement.
Steve’s apartment in Chicago was a cozy one-bedroom sitting right on top of an even tinier Chinese restaurant. There weren’t many drawers or walls one could find empty, all littered with photos of family, trinkets, polaroids, medals. But that was in ‘the before,’ and Steve was in ‘the now’. He left his lively walls and busy drawers in ‘the before,’ leaving really only a suitcase worth of clothes and possessions to take with him to West Virginia.
Robin convinced him to pack a duffel with some silly souvenirs, like the Lake Placid ornament they bought for a stupidly high price because they were drunk and didn’t want to forget ‘core memories’ as Robin says. She’s sweet like that. Overly optimistic and too sentimental. She collects coasters and receipts from random nights because she thinks they soak up the memories they were around for. She tries to carry them everywhere, her phone case bursting at the seams with polaroids and train-tickets. She’s sweet like that and Steve thinks he would kind of die without her.
"I’m just saying we’ve downgraded quite a bit," Steve mutters, eyeing the building.
The sun glares down on him despite the cold and fuck he should have brought his sunglasses.
The snow crunching under his shoes is a comforting sound and the air is fresh in that cold way where nothing really exists in your nose except the air and the walls of your nostrils. It smells like nothing, just cold—Steve already likes it here even as he raises his hand up to block the sun from blinding him.
"I think it’s nice. A little beat-up, but nice." Shrugging and turning to look at him, Robin eyes Steve warily through her stringy bangs, like she isn’t sure what she can still say—what he won’t snap at. "Please don’t act like this when you meet the owners."
Steve knows, okay? He knows. He knows he was unbearable for a long time after everything unraveled, lashing out over the smallest things. It took him weeks to actually pick up his skates again after the fall. And, god isn’t that hilarious? Everyone around him calling it a ‘fall’ like that might make it easier to stomach, like maybe his bloody career-ending crash wouldn’t be so daunting if they called it a fall.
That was 2022 Beijing, China, the winter Olympics. Canada got the gold medal in the men’s single that year. Steve’s never felt more defeated than when he stood on the lowest platform on that podium in crutches with a bandage wrapped around his forehead. So he knows, he knows that everyone is waiting for him to get back onto the ice, to brush it off and return. But he can’t and it’s humiliating, because he was never weak, not when it came to skating. On the ice, Steve was separate from all other things in the universe, he was weightless and completely untouchable. And now, he’s like a bird with clipped wings—it's degrading. So yes, he knows he can be a little bit of a bitch nowadays.
Anger reflexively bubbles up in his gut at Robin’s pitying expression, but it quickly dies down the longer he looks at her. She dropped everything for him when his whole life came crashing down, never sending him a single judging glance throughout the whole process. Shit, she’s moving all the way to some random town in West Virginia because Chicago became too much for Steve to handle. So, he breathes out through clenched teeth and plasters on his best camera smile, all icy and charming.
"Oh, boo! Booooo! You suck. You’re not allowed to use your TV smile on me, it’s repulsive."
"I’m allowed to do whatever I want and you know this smile is the reason the people love me!" Steve tries his best to deflect the onslaught of imaginary tomatoes Robin has started to throw at him while fighting off a real grin.
"Ew, god! The people? Get a life, I’m the only opinion that matters and I say that smile is downright vile!" She laughs while sticking a tongue out at him.
Robin’s incredibly dramatic and Steve loves it, she’s his best friend. He thinks that’s why she was the first to break through to him after his fall—she just made everything fun, like nothing was ever really that serious.
Carol saw right through him though, she dug deep and wanted him to ‘confront’ things, she understood that skating wasn’t just Steve’s career, it was his life. He guesses that all other skaters understand, which is why he needed to get away from them, the pity and understanding suffocated him. Hence, Robin, his lovely, uncoordinated, and scared-of-even-touching-skates best friend.
"Can we check out the inside at least?" Steve asks, walking up to the massive barn that supposedly encloses the ice-skating rink he’ll start teaching lessons at in a few days.
The mahogany paint is chipping and the towering doors to the entrance of the barn have definitely seen better days. But despite it all, the building was gorgeous. It looked perfect, sitting in the untouched snow with a healthy evergreen garland wrapped around its edges. Steve was used to industrial skating rinks, metal and concrete. This rink looked warm, like parents would take their children there and drink hot chocolate afterwards. He guesses all the buildings around here looked like that though, straight-out of a Hallmark movie. The massive lodge only a few feet away from the barn had a similar coziness with a few rocking-chairs on the porch and a wooden sculpture of a chubby bear guarding the stairs.
"We should probably go inside the lodge first, introduce ourselves right?"
"Yeah, you’re right," Steve lets his fingertips slip from the cold metal door handle.
"Let’s get our shit off the snow and we can meet the owner, his name is Wayne but I think his son is also in charge. Fuck… what’s his name.." scrunching up her nose again, she tries to remember.
"It’s Eddie, and I’m actually his nephew."
Steve whips his head around to see a man around their age dressed in all black, smiling and holding out his hand in their space.
He’s hot, objectively so. A little lanky, but not awkward, he looks relaxed in his stance with his other hand sticking a thumb through one of his belt loops. His curly dark brown hair sits on his head perfectly in a loose bun, with some strands having broken free and now framing his face. Steve internally cringes at the dry and damaged curls, immediately itching to get some of his good hair oil on them. A few swirling tattoos make their way above the collar of his black henley and immediately Steve needs to see the full canvas. He wonders if they all have meaning or if they were done on some drunk impulse one night out with friends.
"I’m Robin and this is Steve, we’re best friends." Robin beams, going in to shake Eddie’s still extended hand.
"Good to know," he chuckles, looking a little amused at the introduction, "you guys must be the new skating instructors, I can help take your bags in and you can meet the rest of the crew"
"Oh, no way. You won’t even see me get close to that rink. Steve’s the man you’re looking for."
Big brown eyes glide over to him and suddenly Steve’s hyper-aware of every inch of skin he’s wearing. Does he smell? He probably smells. He’s been sitting in that car eating junk with Robin for hours now. He’s sure his hair has deflated and his lips are chapped. He darts his tongue out on his bottom lip to confirm, and Jesus, he probably looks like he wants to eat this guy alive. Trying to find some composure, he wills himself to appear uninterested.
"Can we see inside? Is the building finished?" It’s a little snappy, he gets a look from Robin.
The guy, Eddie, scoffs lightly but quickly schools his expression. "Yeah, no it’s finished. It’s a nice rink, she’s just old."
Eddie looks up at the barn with a fond eyes then quickly back down at the two of them, "well, Wayne'll show you the inside tomorrow, I'm sure you guys are tired. I’ll show you where you’ll be stayin' and the rest of the family can introduce themselves."
There’s a slight drawl to his voice, Steve likes it, he sounds like he would tell really good bedtime stories.
Robin nods enthusiastically at the idea of getting out of the cold and Eddie bends down to grab a few of their bags. Steve definitely does not stare at the way Eddie’s henley stretches around his bicep as he picks up a particularly heavy bag.
Eddie guides them around the massive lodge and into a forested area. A crudely formed pathway made completely of tire tracks and worn down terrain leads the way to their new home.
A smaller, but still just as cheerful building comes into view. There are Christmas lights strung half-heartedly across the railing of the porch and the second story of the house. They’re entwined with more of that evergreen garland he saw on the barn. It’s cozy and it’s definitely not Chicago.
"This is the staff house. Other cooks and instructors live here."
"Do you live here with us?" Steve blurts out, immediately regretting how weird that sounds.
"Mostly, yeah. I have my own room but I’m supposed to live up in the cabin with my uncle." Eddie says distractedly and nods his head in the direction Steve guesses where ‘the cabin’ resides, ominous fucker.
Inside the building is immediately warm and Steve feels his muscles slowly relaxing as he toes off his boots, following Eddie’s lead.
No one’s home right now but every room Eddie gives them a tour of is filled with life and memories, he can just feel it. There are stickers stuck to the side of the fridge that look like someone has been trying to scrape them off for years. Blankets are everywhere, draped across the couch in the living room and sprawled across the chairs in the dining room. An unfinished uno game was left on the stained coffee table in the center of what looks like a game room. Everything is warm red and wood.
Upstairs, Robin and Steve’s rooms are right next to each other in a long hallway of similar-looking rooms, some doors decorated with crooked signs and ribbons on doorknobs. Eddie leaves the two of them to settle in while he heads downstairs to get ready for the rest of the 'family'.
The room is simple, a bed that can fit two people squished sits in the corner of the room. A bathroom connects Robin’s and his room together and it reminds him of their setup in college. Light filters through a window hanging right above a dresser that looks out onto a well-groomed sledding hill and the main lodge.
Immediately Steve remembers that this is a winter lodge—a winter lodge where he will be working. Robin will start teaching snowboarding lessons at the small mountain the lodge owns and he will start instructing poorly-coordinated kiddies how to skate while their parents drink in front of a fireplace.
Exhaustion finally hits him at the thought and he immediately collapses on his bed, not bothering to empty his suitcase when tugging out a well-worn Santa Barbara sweatshirt that could definitely be Carol’s. Turning over, he takes in the rest of the room. There are no team photos hung on the walls, no medals on display, the room isn't asking anything of him. The sheer curtains hung above the window definitely won’t be helpful in blocking out the sun, but it adds a nice contrast to the rest of the wooden and well, brown room. A tapestry rug sits in the center of the space. Its colors are all washed out in certain areas but he can still make out the symmetrical designs weaved throughout the thing.
Steve stares at it for a second, eyes tracing the worn edges. Something eases in his chest for the first time in a while at the sight. Not because the rug is beautiful—god no, it's hideous. But because it's not trying to be, it's just there. The rug is trying, quietly, to keep things together, to soften the weight of boots and snow and grief. Maybe he's looking too much into it.
He lets out a breath and relaxes further into his pillow. It smells like old pine and fresh laundry, like someone cleaned the bed before he came—like someone actually cares about this place. That's what's giving him this false sense of safety. Everything here is worn, yes, but it's lived-in, it's comforting. He can feel this energy thrumming underneath his skin softly. Not like the excitement he’d feel before a performance where it felt like colors and music were going to burst from his skin. It’s gentle this time, a barely-there hum, but Steve feels it and it’s like he can finally breathe, like a dam has broken in his chest. Robin’s in the other room probably fussing over how she should decorate her new space, downstairs he can hear a door open and a cacophony of voices fill the hallways, the sun is setting and it’s making the room glow this soft orange color, there's a slight creak in the walls as wind passes through the hallways, and everything is all so new it’s intoxicating. Maybe, maybe, this place isn't a fucking dump after all.
He feels like he’s at the end of a movie where the protagonist would look off into the sunset and sigh some stupid line like I think I’m going to like it here. He snorts at the thought and decides to smush his face further into his new bed, sweatshirt bunched up under his chin, hair fanned messily across the pillow.
"Get up, babe. We’ve got to meet our new roomies!" Robin sings, popping her head through the doorway.
Steve sends her a weak thumbs-up and mentally thanks god that he has her presence throughout whatever’s next to come downstairs.
He could almost cry out of relief when none of the staff in the packed dining room show even the slightest bit of recognition when he introduces himself. No lingering glances trying to place where they know his name from, no questioning if he’s been on TV. To the rest of the staff, he’s simply the new skating instructor.
"I’m glad we’re finally making use of that barn," A redheaded teenager says to him at the dinner table, "I always thought it was kinda creepy being all abandoned and stuff."
"It wasn’t abandoned, Max. Don’t scare them off." Eddie, the guy from earlier, flicks her in the forehead. There's a clear family dynamic going on with this group and it warms him a little to see the comfortability between 'coworkers'.
"It’s cozy, I like it." Steve offers.
"Cozy?" Eddie immediately questions, raising an accusatory eyebrow at Steve, challenging him to go on—which, what the fuck dude? It’s just a thing people say, it was a compliment!
"I think it’s cozy as well! I always loved when the snow covered the roof, I thought it looked straight out of a holiday card." Chrissy, the bubbly blonde who had introduced herself first to Robin and Steve, chuckles nervously, trying to alleviate the weird tension Eddie added to the conversation.
The introductions resume after that but Steve can't shake the feeling of judging eyes from Eddie's side of the table watching his every move. He makes an effort to hide behind the curly-haired teenager explaining which chairs in the living room are the most comfortable for movie nights.
"… so Max and El will always steal the right side of the couch and by then the whole room's filled up," the kid, Dustin, leans in all serious and whispers, "but since you seem cool, I'm willing to team up with you to take over the love seat."
"You just tell me what to do and I'll be there." Steve affirms while trying his best to keep an earnest face. The interaction makes him giddy, like he's making new friends on the first day of school.
"So, how long have you been skating man?" Argyle, one of the guys who works in the ski repair shop, plops in between him and Dustin.
"Can you do any tricks?" Jonathon, a lift operator, asks through a mouth full of chili.
"Oh that'd be so sick," Dustin is practically vibrating, "can you do flips? Like 360s?"
Of course he can do flips, spins, axels—he's a figure skater, an Olympic one at that. But before sharing the story of his first triple-axel, Steve remembers where he is and why he left Chicago. Here, in the middle-of-nowhere West Virginia, he's Steve Harrington, a 'seasoned ice-skater' and nothing else. If a little lying is necessary for his fresh start, he's willing to hold back on certain information.
"Oh not really. I can do some spins and jumps, but that's really it." He shrugs coolly, intentionally avoiding Robin's saddened gaze.
"I think it's impressive that you can even balance on those tiny blades," Chrissy smiles his way, "it's why I chose skiing, I need it as easy and safe as I can get." The conversation devolves back into meaningless but comforting small talk where Dustin starts listing off the dangers of skiing. Steve relaxes again and as the night wears on, he feels Eddie's intense staring start to ease off and he prays that means all is forgiven.
Dinner ends up being fun. Steve can't remember the last time he ate homemade food with a group of people this interesting. The rest of 'the family' come together to create a sort of motley crew with way too many children bunched in with the rest of the adults. But somehow the dynamic works, and something clenches in Steve's stomach at the reminder of nights with his team all huddled up in Jason's apartment eating takeout and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy. He pushes the memories into the back of his mind and mentally reminds himself to return all of Carol's messages.
Once the clock hit a certain time everyone started to slowly filter out of the dining room and head upstairs to their rooms. After Robin excuses herself and squeezes Steve's hand, he gets the memo and starts to wrap up his conversation with Chrissy, realizing it's just him, Chrissy, Robin, and Eddie in the dining room now.
"I got that, you guys can just head to bed, don't worry about it." Eddie says, intercepting his path to the sink where Steve was going to wash both his and Robin's dishes.
"Oh, thanks. I really don't have a problem with it though." Steve assures, trying to redeem himself in the other man's mind.
"Oh don't worry sweetheart, you're not exempt. Dustin's got a whole chore wheel set up, I'm just paying my dues."
Eddie gently seizes the dishes from his hands and wishes him a goodnight with a lazy smile. Sweetheart? Is that a thing people down here say? Should Steve call him sweetheart as well? What are the next steps one should take after being called sweetheart by a hot guy with an even hotter accent. He really hopes this means all that bad energy from Eddie's end has dissipated and there will be more 'sweetheart's in the near future.
"Hey earth to dingus," Robin whisper-shouts when they've made it to her bedroom, "you're so bad at hiding when you want to bump uglies with a guy, you were practically drooling."
"Ew did you just say 'bump uglies'? We're adults Robin. You can say sex," Steve hisses, "and I was not drooling."
"You were totally drooling babe, heart eyes and everything. Steve and Eddie sitting in tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
"Oh my god my best friend is five years old." He groans, plugging his ears.
"And you love me," Robin sticks out her tongue and flops onto her bed, changed into one of Steve's old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts, "do you think you could find an extra pillow? This one's kinda lumpy."
"Yes, you spoiled brat, I'll go look for some."
"Thanks sweetheart!" Robin croons as he flips her off.
Padding through the long hallway, Steve searches for a linen closet. His cheeks hurt from smiling and he's still wearing a lingering grin from Robin's teasing and the events that happened tonight. Maybe everything was going to be fine, maybe his new life has already started in West Virginia, maybe the people he ate dinner with downstairs are his new family, and maybe in the next few days his only worry will be getting picked on Dustin's chore wheel. His little string of maybe's are cut off by muffled voices in the room next to him. He really shouldn't eavesdrop, but when has he ever resisted listening in on poorly-silenced whispers?
"Are you OK?" Chrissy's hushed tone filters through the wall Steve has pressed his ear against.
"Why?" he makes out Eddie's voice.
"You looked like you wanted to kill the new guy downstairs. You were sneering."
"Fuck off, I was not."
"Um. You totally were, it was rude as hell."
"I'm sure the airhead didn't even realize, it's fine."
Steve's stomach drops and the last parts of his smile have fully vanished, face falling. He should really stop listening.
"See! What's your problem?"
"I don't have a problem, I just don't like the guy! He seems kinda stuck up, did you see what he was wearing, that tight-ass Lululemon jacket? Who actually wears that kind of thing?"
Ok seriously fuck off, his running jacket was from Aritzia and it's supposed to be 'form-fitting'. It doesn't matter though, he's already burning up from embarrassment and shame. Turning back to Robin's room, he berates himself for being so stupid, for getting excited for this fresh start and new family.
"No pillows?" Robin questions when he enters the room, massaging the lumpy one.
"Huh? Oh, yeah couldn't find any, sorry."
He wishes he never went to get the fucking pillows, or listened to himself and just continued walking down the hall when he heard the voices. Unease and dread spread throughout his body and suddenly the thought of starting a new life here sounds colossal mistake.
"What's up with you? You're pouting and you look mean again," she makes room for him on the bed, it's a tight fit, "bring back happy Steve, we love happy Steve here."
"Shut up, we're sharing these lumpy pillows. I'm sleeping with you tonight."
"Ok but don't get all octopus on me, you know I run hot," she whines but snuggles closer to him.
They’ll definitely wake up tomorrow tangled in blankets, Robin sweaty and grumbling. Steve shuts his eyes and tries to sleep, forcing himself to forget the conversation he overheard—and the new enemy he apparently has. Screw Eddie. And screw his stupid, lumpy pillows.
Maybe they won’t even have to interact. With their schedules, they might never see each other: Eddie’s stuck in the lodge kitchen, and Steve works in a completely different building. He tells himself it's fine, they'll never cross paths.
Down the end of the hallway, Eddie is probably still ranting about him, about how much he hates someone he doesn't even know, because of what they're wearing.
Steve snorts into the quilt he's snuggled into. Good. Let him. He's not thinking about Eddie. Not at all. Not even a little.