Chapter Text
The year is 1985 and Hawkins, Indiana is only just dragging itself into the new year.
Children are still hyped up from their Christmas presents, though bemoan their return to school -- their parents are all heaving a sigh of relief for much the same reason. The town is still reeling from the revelations brought about regarding their local Department of Energy and its involvement in several deaths, including that of a teenager. Excessive party-goers are still nursing week-long hangovers, holding in their hearts no regrets.
And Steve Harrington's life has gone from “weird but manageable” with his unplanned quasi-adoption of five middle-schoolers to “absolutely mental” with the arrival of yet another new student at Hawkins High, just a week into the new semester.
Truly, it’s unfair.
A year's worth of nightmares and paranoia and desperately gripping onto the threads of normality and keeping a goddamned nail bat in the trunk of his car all amounted to a devastating breakup, a plate over the head, and a trip down into Hell’s Welcoming Tunnels with a group of children and a concussion.
And somehow, the children haven’t left yet.
That may actually be the most surprising thing about this second Upside Down crisis: That the people he’d fought alongside had instantly reached out to him and decided they weren’t letting go yet, if only because they needed his car now that it had gotten too cold out for bikes.
(That was unfair to them, he knew that. Steve knows the bond he has with Dustin isn’t like any of the friendships he’s had before, knows Max and Lucas genuinely think he’s cool even if they’d never admit it, knows Mike respects him for helping deep, deep down, and knows Will is kind enough to ignore whatever Jonathan has surely been very rightfully venting about Steve for years now. He knows this. He just can’t quite get it.)
Still, it’s not like he really minded picking Dustin, Max, and Lucas up from school. He’d been doing it since the moment the ringing in his ears cleared up and he could drive safely again, anyway. He was just never going to tell them that.
So, yeah. Weird but manageable.
He’d wake up, collect his ki-- friends, he’d collect his friends, and suffer through six hours of pretending Nancy and Jonathan hadn’t been openly dating before Steve had even known he and Nancy were over.
He’d drop off the children who were now his only friends and suffer through six hours of low-level headaches whenever he tried to focus for too long.
He’d promise to pick up the little shits after school and suffer through six hours of Billy Hargrove sneering and shoving and being just as deeply weird and disturbing towards Steve as he normally was, just now with the added protection of a 13-year-old girl.
Joy.
But he dealt with it. Really, he was doing okay.
Totally.
Which is why it was really unfair that the universe decided it wasn’t through with the life-altering realizations.
It started with another new student at Hawkins High, and if Steve hadn’t been the way he is, then he wouldn’t have recognized this event as the portent of chaos it was.
But to understand who Steve Harrington really is, you gotta do some history.
Specifically, the history of post-Roman Britton, circa 500 ad.
It started before Steve can even properly remember.
According to his childhood nanny, she had chosen a storybook at random one night, trying to read little Stevie to sleep. Instead, his eyes had lit up like she’d never seen before, and he’d been enraptured the entire time, asking questions and gasping and ooh-ing and ah-ing.
It was a simple little fairy tale about King Arthur and Excalibur and Steve had never been the same since; consumed with everything and anything related to Arthurian legend.
Younger Steve still gravitated towards bedtime stories and cartoons -- the number of times he’d rewatched The Sword in the Stone alone was frankly mind-boggling -- but as he grew, so did the scope of his obsession.
9-year-old Steve was already devouring the Vulgate Cycle with a rabid ferocity, re-reading Le Morte d'Arthur until his copy was all but falling apart from his desperate attempt to figure out what any of the words meant. Bless his young heart, but a high reading level he did not have.
11-year-old Steve was spending hours tucked in the backrooms of the public library, obsessively trying to justify King Arthur as a real historical figure. To this day, he knew more about post-Roman 6th-century history than he did about the fundamentals of mathematics. It proved useful on exactly one (1) test in an English class and then never again. The librarians knew him so well and indulged him enough that they’d call whenever a new legend or historical account came in. (As per usual, Steve’s charm was his greatest ally.)
13-year-old Steve discovered Monty Python and was never the same.
15-year-old Steve, having been without a nanny to watch him when his parents were gone for quite a few years now, found himself rising through the ranks of high-school popularity in his Sophomore Year, earning the nickname “King Steve”. And it felt good. He knew nobody knew about his weird little nerd hobby, but it felt like an accomplishment nonetheless, an acknowledgment of his passion, settling deep within his bones and making itself at home.
It felt like that right up until Jonathan Byers punched him in the face in Junior Year.
Things got more intense after that, but Steve’s passion never faded.
(He may or may not have named his nailbat “Caliburn”. Sure, the obvious choice would have been Excalibur but… something about it never felt right, never felt final, never felt finished. Like there was something else waiting for him. So, pre-French version it was.)
Even now, a year after his worldview was torn open to include alternate dimensions and tooth-faced monsters, he still felt secretly giddy listening to the kids rant about their little nerd game. No, he still doesn’t get the rules or most of their tol-keen references, but they talk about knights with swords fighting dragons with such passion that his own obsession feels lighter.
But of course, it wasn’t really King Arthur he was most interested in. Steve loved the guy, sure, definitely would’ve done it as a Halloween costume every year if he didn’t think he’d get bullied for it, but the true meat of his interest lies elsewhere.
Most legends described an advisor, an ally, and a protector. An old, powerful wizard named Merlin who guided King Arthur along his path to success.
His draw towards the Merlin legends in particular felt different.
They didn’t excite him. They didn’t please him.
No, they were painful to read, filling him with a longing so familiar he’d have called it homesickness or regret if it’d make any sense. Any reference to the magician felt like an emotional grenade being kicked right in his face and he didn’t know why.
(Yes, seeing Will’s goofy little wizard outfit was adorable, but it made him wistful and lonely and amused all at once.)
Either way, the longing sort of always messed with his hero worship of Arthur, even back in the height of his “King Steve” days. Like, would King Arthur be the most popular guy in high school? Would he be the star of any sports team he joined? Would he get the girl of his dreams? Yes, of course, absolutely.
But, that little voice in the back of his head that whispered all that morality shit would warn, would Merlin follow him?
Would he accept the oblivious King of the school? Would he value sports over heart? Would he approve of the King’s reaction to thinking his girlfriend cheated on him?
Steve didn’t think so, and the little voice in his head shouting at him reached a crescendo the night he put himself between 3 middle-schoolers and a pack of demodogs, finally screaming: “Yes! This is where you should be! This is who would make him proud!”
It felt like an epiphany at the time, but living your life to impress a legendary wizard from ye olden days of Camelot is even crazier than a parallel universe existing under Hawkins -- not to mention way more embarrassing -- so he doesn’t mention his new mantra to anyone.
WWMWATD: What would Merlin want Arthur to do?
…it’s a work in progress. But an effective one. Now, when the kids abuse his driver’s license, or when Nancy tries to force him to tell her she doesn’t need to feel sorry about actually cheating on him, or when his parents got home to find his face busted up again, or when Billy Hargrove sneers at him in the halls…
Well, wise-old-magical-advisor-Merlin wouldn’t want King Arthur to lash out, or abuse his privilege, or get into petty fights, would he?
It’s honestly the best moral compass he’s had in a while.
He may not have any real friends his age, or a girlfriend to love him, or a solid future beyond high school, but he has his kids, his nail bat, and his fake-wizard-mentor in his head. And it’s almost enough. Really.
And then there was another new student at Hawkins High.
And Steve, being the Arthurian-legend-loving, wizard-obsessing, round-table-knight-envying fanatic that he is, instantly recognized the new kid as the portent of chaos he was.
They meet in Steve’s first-period History class, something he’ll laugh about later.
His homeroom teacher calls the class’s attention to the unknown standing before them, and Steve can’t help but analyze for possible threats -- which is fair, given Billy Hargrove was the last new kid.
But the pale, lanky teen standing up at the front of the class doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly, much less beat Steve into unconsciousness. A meaner Steve from years past might’ve taken particular humor to the guy’s frankly ridiculous ears, but his favorite mythical wizard would probably be disappointed in him for that, so he valiantly ignores them.
He does, however, note the guy’s stupidly good cheekbones. Not for any particular reason.
Anyway, New Kid stumbles through the doorway, waves with a goofy smile on his face, and the teacher introduces him as “Merlin Ambrose” and--
And--
And Steve will admit, his brain breaks a bit at that moment.
Even more so when New Kid is sent to the empty seat next to Steve, stumbling his way over and smiling at everyone he passes.
And-- It’s fine, Steve decides. This is fine. It’s not like the New Kid’s gonna--
“Hi,” the New Kid chirps out once their teacher has started droning on about the American Revolution Unit they’re on -- the 12th one Steve’s had to study, even in non-American history classes, seriously -- “I’m Merlin.”
Steve’s brain stuttered a bit as his brain processed not only the New Kid’s presence and unfortunate -- for Steve -- name, but his British accent. “Uh, yeah. I heard.”
New Kid just stared at him expectantly, twisted halfway around in his seat, leaning across the aisle as if that’s not the most conspicuous thing he could do.
Steve’s brain caught up to social convention, finally. “Oh, right, uh. I’m Steve… Harrington”
To be fair, this is basically the first time in his life that his reputation hasn’t preceded him. Even when he entered preschool, the teacher was well aware of his parents’ status and absolutely treated him differently enough that other kids noticed. In retrospect: Yikes.
New Kid nodded, smiling like that was a victory, and kept going. “Nice to meet you! This is my first day here, you know, moved into town last week. Much to do around here?”
Other than fight hell-monsters from alternate dark-dimensions and start a collection of concussions? (Make sure to rank them!) No, not much.
Steve nodded anyway, searching his mind for what he used to do before his social circle became entirely composed of middle-schoolers. “Uh, yeah, there are some students who throw pretty good parties, some are even open-invite, so that’s something. Lots of sports teams, if you--” play, Steve was gonna say, but thought better of it as he glanced down at New Kid’s scrawny limbs, “--wanna watch. There’s-- um…”
New Kid hummed along, inclining his head even further toward Steve. “Ah, I should've guessed you were a jock, then.”
Steve had never been so offended by a statement that was completely factual and mostly neutral. “Hey! That’s not-- I mean, sure, I guess, but-- Is that really your name?”
Ah. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.
New Kid screwed up his face, leaning back a bit. Not back into his seat, mind you, but back. “What sort of question is that? Of course, it’s my name.”
Steve could sense some of his classmates watching now, curious about his oddly awkward version of their former king, floundering at a basic introduction. Maybe it proved to them he was nothing more than a pretty face, or a strong body, or a good fuck.
And there was no reason to keep talking. The teacher was still going, after all; Steve should be taking notes and trying to actually pass. He had nothing to prove.
But he wasn’t their king anymore, and he’d heard this same lecture once a year since he was 12. He had something to say. He had nothing to lose.
Even still, he leaned across the aisle, brushing shoulders with the new kid, and in low tones, explained, “Ambrosius is the name of one the old dudes that scholars think the wizard Merlin is based on: Ambrosius Aurelianus, a Romano-British war leader. I just think it’s really weird to name your kid so specifically after one mythical wizard.”
New Kid seemed even more stunned by that -- which was fair, Steve was pretty off-put, too.
And then, blunt as a nail bat to a Demogorgon, New Kid said, “My middle name is Wyllt.”
As in Myrddin Wyllt, the other guy Merlin seems to be based on. Jesus Christ.
So Steve replies, just as blunt, “Well, that’s just not fair, you can’t have all three!”
New Kid looks weirdly offended by that. “Can too!”
“No way, man!” Steve snapped back. “What if you had siblings? What names would they get? All that’s left is, like, Aurelius or something.”
New Kid rolled his eyes. “How do you know I don’t have siblings?”
“Oh? What are their names?” Steve asked, crossing his arms.
“...okay, I don’t have siblings, but my point still stands! You couldn’t have known!”
“So did! I said so! They’d have no thematically relevant names left!”
“They could’ve been, I don’t know, Gwaine!”
Steve paused. “ Like Gawaine and the Green Knight? Gawaine Aurelius Ambrose? Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, New Kid.”
New Kid looked truly mad at that. Whoops. “My name’s not New Kid, I know you know that ‘cause we’ve been talking about it.”
“Right, right, Wizard Boy,” Steve corrected, guiltily amused by the fire in the guy’s eyes.
“Well, what are your siblings' names, then?” Wizard Boy challenged, whispers growing fast to accommodate his apparent fury. “Do they stand up to the glorious Steve?”
“They so would if they existed, man,” Steve grinned. Inwardly, he considered name-dropping Dustin, but he figured that was a step too far in their friendship. Maybe one day.
Wizard Boy froze at that, frowning. “You don’t look like an only child.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mr. Harrington!” Their teacher’s voice snapped out. “As excited as you must be to have more social opportunities, I’d please ask you to stop pestering Mr. Ambrose on his first day.”
A testament to Steve’s enduring legacy: Not many of his classmates laughed.
Still, it was the principle of the thing.
“What-- I-- he started it!” Steve protested, still shoulder to shoulder with the new kid.
“I absolutely did not!” Wizard Boy refuted, playfully knocking further into Steve’s space, anger completely replaced by his earlier grin. “And it was less pestering and more debating.”
Their teacher sighed, a tired and heavy thing that Steve felt deep in his soul. “In that case, please save the debates for our Class Debates later in the term. For now, gentlemen, if you could sit properly?”
More of the class did laugh this time, as Steve and the new kid glanced at one another and ruefully shuffled back behind their actual desks, finally opening their notebooks.
Before refocusing on the teacher’s lecture, though, Steve glanced over at the New Kid, thrown off when his eyes instantly met the others. New Kid was smiling, though, with no traces of his earlier anger in his sparking blue gaze and-- well--
Ah. They really were just goofing off together, weren’t they?
So many times in the past, Steve had thought he was just joking, only for later revelations to reveal he was actually being a major douchebag the whole while. Since Jonathan Byers had knocked some sense into him -- literally -- and Nancy had expected better of him, he couldn’t get rid of the cloying guilt he felt over it all, nor the dread during all following goofs.
Every joke, every playful jab, every innocent tease, he was quivering inside, waiting for the moment someone would come back around and reveal he was still an asshole, that he hadn’t changed, couldn’t change. That it was something deep inside him and expressing himself was always going to be met with a negative reaction.
But the new kid was smiling at him after Steve had gotten them in trouble on the guy’s first day. He’d taken every joke, thrown them right back with ferocity, and he was smiling.
Steve smiled back.
So, the new student’s parents were just as nerdy as Steve was about Arthurian legend -- they just had the benefit of having a suitable last name. So what? It was pretty cool.
In unrelated news, he has a new mantra.
WWTWOWWATD: What would the weird old wizard want Arthur to do?
It’s a work in progress. In reverse. But whatever.
In even less related news, Steve had a new classmate named Merlin, and he was pretty sure the dude wasn’t going to fit in at all. The British accent alone was gonna make the kid stick out. He was so going to get teased about his ears, and if he was this chatty with everyone, he was gonna piss someone off quick.
King Steve wouldn’t have even spared a glance. Would’ve joked about the ears, not cared if it hurt feelings, and would’ve gotten annoyed by the chatter.
Steve Harrington, in accordance with WWTWOWWATD, knew he’d be keeping an eye on Merlin Ambrose. The guy was too much trouble to just leave alone.
Even still, he didn’t foresee the true scope of the chaos that would soon embroil his life.
But what’s new?