Chapter Text
Her name was Lilly. Lilly the German Sheppard. She was a purebred of course, no way would his parents approve otherwise. However, Lilly wasn't exactly keen on following all the rules like she was supposed to. "Bathroom outside" was "bathroom inside," and "no chewing mom's expensive carpet" became "chew mom's expensive carpet AND the couch."
Lilly lasted a month in the Herrington household.
Steve didn't cry when he came home from school and Lilly was gone. He didn't. Not alone in his room into a wet pillow. Not until he was numb enough to go to sleep and forget the next morning. Not at all.
So when Dustin and Max arrived at his doorstep with the most pissed-off-looking dog he'd ever seen, Steve was just a little panicked.
"Dustin? What-"
"Steve! Okay hear me out buddy-"
"No! Nope! Hearing you out is a terrible idea! You always have terrible ideas!" Steve grabbed at his hair, a bad habit he'd developed from stressful nights hunting down monsters and keeping his unofficial children safe.
"Wow okay rude. I always have good ideas." Dustin rolled his eyes. The dog huffed.
"Dustin, your ideas are shit." Max chirped, making Steve jump a little since he'd honestly forgotten she was there.
"I didn't come here to be attacked! Max this was YOUR idea!" Dustin's voice raised to a level Steve thought impossible for a kid his age, pinging around his head like a ping pong ball.
"Exactly, which makes it a good idea." She pulled a pice of withered rope to her chest, Steve's eyes following the brown trail to the mangy dog, who looked seconds away from ripping someone's face off.
"Okay, fist of all, shut up. Second, why are you on my front porch at 8am with a dog that looks like it wants to eat my face?"
The dog grunted- no, huffed humorously? Steve had no fucking clue but whatever it was he was sure the thing crawled out of hell.
"He's not gonna eat your face!" Dustin groaned, eyes falling to the ground as he added in a mutter, "not that it’ll make a difference."
"I heard that!" Steve pointed his finger at the offender. "And we both know my face is awesome."
Dustin huffed in annoyance, but Steve could see the small smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah fine."
"Sorry to interrupted your lovers quarrel," Max spoke up, thrusting the rope towards Steve's chest, who grabbed onto it instinctively with fumbling hands. "Buuut I have to get home soon so we need to speed this up," she glared pointedly at Dustin.
"Yeah yeah. So we- I mean max found this guy in her house this morning and we have no idea where he came from but he doesn't look like a stray. So we just need someone to... hold onto him until we can find his home." Dustin finished in a breath of air, looking up at Steve like he was supposed to understand whateverthefuck he'd just said.
"Hold onto him? Do I look like an animal shelter??" Before Dustin could agree and possibly insist him Steve continued. "I don't know how to take care of a dog! My parents hate dogs!!"
"But your parents are like, never home" Dustin pointed out with a glint to his eyes, which okay facts are facts but it still hurt. "And it won't be long. I bet his owners are already looking for him as we speak!"
"You get one day!"
"One day?? No way! A week at least!" Dustin shrieked, making Steve's head hurt.
"Fine whatever! God the things I get stuck with around you guys is- ugh!" He grumbled to the world and himself, holding onto the makeshift leach tighter. "A week. No more. Got it?"
"Yup! Scouts honor."
Max and Steve both rolled their eyes as Dustin saluted. "Whatever. I've gotta get back before my dad knows I'm gone." Max huffed and made her way down the stairs. The dog lurched towards her, but didn't make any attempt to get free, which Steve was more than grateful for since running and doing ANYTHING was an after 11am kinda deal.
"Soooo... we good man?" Dustin piped.
Steve looked from Dustin to the angry dog. "I mean how am I exactly supposed to feel about this dude? I don't even know what to call him."
Dustin's face scrunched in concentration. "Oh! I know, Mad Max!"
Steve rolled his eyes, regretting even bringing the need of a name up to a kid that named an interdimensional monster a freaking demo dog. "Okay. No, just no."
"Theeen... Cujo!"
Steve's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that from a horror movie?"
"Okay maybe not that one... then how about-"
"Nope. Not hearing it." Steve gripped the leash and started backing into the house. "I've gotta get this guy settled. Shit I need to go buy kibble now." He narrowed his eyes, mentally making a list to accommodate Mister nameless.
"I'd dish in some cash if I could, but ya see..." Dustin theatrically turns his pockets inside out.
"I know man, don't worry about it. Just don't bring any more strays here without at least a weeks notice." He tugged on the makeshift leash, frowning at the stubborn dog.
"Got it. Sure thing." Dustin saluted him. "Well, I've gotta go! Call me if he starts eating you!"
By the time Steve finally got the dog in his house Dustin was already hopping onto his bike and speeding away. Steve watched after him with a sigh. "I seriously can't believe this..." he shut the door and turned his gaze down to the dog. "So. Got any ideas?"
The dog huffed, and Steve could swear it just rolled its eyes. Come to think of it, the dog had very, very blue eyes. Eerily familiar... maybe that's because of how the blue clashed with the light golden brown curly fur, just like a certain someone who tormented him even now, living in his head completely rent free.
Steve snapped out of his thoughts, knowing exactly where his dumpster brain was about to go. "Okay! Food time. I'm hungry. You hungry?"
The dogs face stayed still as stone, but his fluffy tail betrayed him and wagged slightly at the mention of food. It was a win for Steve... sorta. It was honestly a low bar to pass anyways.
"Alright then..." he bent down to get the leash off, trying his best to keep his face as far away from the dog as possible. It was his best feature.
The dog stayed gratefully still and only streached when the leash was off. Steve sighed in relief, bunching up the rope with a thankfully unmauled face. He headed off to the kitchen on the hopes that the dog would follow- and that it did. It was quite a smart dog in Steve's opinion. Not that he had any experience though. Not really.
"Lets see what we got here..." he bent down to search through the fridge. "Hmm... I guess this could do, and I think dogs can have this. Oh and this." Steve had a habit of talking himself through his day-to-day tasks. It made the house seem less empty.
"Frying pan... Gotcha. And let's see... I need this and this and- oh definitely this." He took out a sharp knife and a cutting board, laying the meat he'd found on the wood. Humming a simple tune under his breath, he started cutting up slices, feet bouncing a little as he worked. His pointless humming became soft singing, the tune of 'Wake Me Up Before You Go Go' by Wham! Filling up the kitchen.
Steve wouldn't say he's a stellar singer, but hey- he can carry a tune. He used to even play the guitar... but stopped. He's not really sure why but he did. It's probably somewhere around the house, laying hidden away collecting dust. It didn't matter though, Steve wasn't going to be any famous singer and he knew it. It was pretty pointless to waste his time on things he won't ever achieve. Or wait... was it his dad that said that?
Steve realized too late that his deep thoughts had distracted him from the chicken currently boiling away on the pan. "Shit!" He snapped up, scrambling to save the chicken, which miraculously wasn't burnt. Hell, it actually looked pretty decent. Giving himself a silent pat on the back, he grabbed a plate and a cheep bowl, dishing himself some before getting the dog set up.
"Here ya go boy." He sighed as he set the food on the ground. Thinking he'd done well, Steve sat down ready to enjoy his meal when a growl turned his eyes from his delicious food to the insulted dog.
"What? Don't like chicken? Dogs love chicken!" He tugged at his hair in frustration, trying to figure out how a dog could be so damn hard to take care of. The dog looked from the bowl to the table, and then at Steve's plate.
Steve narrowed his eyes. "You... you wanna have mine?" To his utter shock the dog huffed and for fucking real rolled its eyes. Then, to add to his confusion, the dog tapped the bowl with his paw, then tapped the chair. Steve finally caught on with a soft "oh."
Wordlessly, he pulled out the chair and moved the bowl to the table, watching the dog with a mixture of doubt and confusion. To his fucking surprise the dog actually jumped up on the chair and started eating. Steve just gaped, delicious chicken forgotten. The dog finished quickly, then looked to his full plate with a look that seemed to read 'you gonna finish that?'
Steve pushed his plate over, looking away as the dog polished off his breakfast. Maybe it was too early for chicken anyways.
The dog burped and hopped down, padding over to the couch before pawing at the remote and- oh my fuck- turning the TV on. Steve just watched, unsure how much time went by before he uttered, "the fuck kinda dog are you?"
The dog seemed to hear him, turning around with an insulted glare. Then it shook its head and went back to watching TV. Steve decided he either needed to wake up from his dream or maybe get some sleep since he was definitely hallucinating. Instead of doing any of that however, he set the dishes in the sink and joined the dog in the living room, sitting separately of course.
The channel was flipped to some historical movie, which okay whatever so the dog is a scholar. Who cares. Historical documentaries are the best sleep medicine. Steve let his eyes drop as his new companion watched the TV with a human-like interest surely incapable for a dog. A dog with blue eyes and blonde hair and grinning teeth and intense gazes that burned like the sun.