hear that, stu? i think she wants a motive @ahoysteviex - Tumblr Blog

･:*:･ﾟpinky promise? ･:*:･ﾟ

childhood best friends to lovers w/ Steve Harrington

summary: growing up, steve was your favorite person, your best friend. but now that you're older, he's calling less and less, fading away slowly. will your hail mary attempt to draw him back to you end with you in his arms, or has he given up on you for good?

content: fluff, angst, smut. pinv, strictly 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon steve au (upside down-less hawkins)

wk: 8.9k

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ.✧:･ﾟ.✧ *:･:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

“Promise me you’ll always be my best friend?”

Steve holds out his pinky finger, and you know exactly what that means. You’re on adjacent swings, legs dangling over the thin layer of woodchips that wouldn’t really soften the blow if you fell. But you know that Steve would be right by your side, lifting you from the ground, making sure you were okay.

You’d moved to Hawkins a year ago, starting school in the same third grade class as Steve. You were so scared your first day, you didn’t speak to anyone in your class. You could hear the cool girls in the corner of the classroom whispering about you. Arms crossed on the desk and head hung low, you fought hard not to cry. The first tear broke through at the same time a chair pulled up next to yours.

A boy with brownish greenish eyes, and a disproportionate amount of hair on his head for such a scrawny frame, smiled from the seat next to you.

“Hi I’m St-”

The tear rolling down your cheek caused him to lose his train of thought.

“Uh oh, are you crying?”

“No,” you replied. But it was no use, the second tear was already falling and you could feel a third on deck.

Steve pulled the sleeve of his sweater over his hand, bringing the fabric to your cheeks to pat them dry.

“Yes you are,” he pointed out.

“Please, don’t tell anyone,” you begged him.

He eyed the girls in the corner, sending them an angry frown, then turned back to you, his small voice dead serious as he vowed, “your secret’s safe with me.”

“Promise?” You asked skeptically.

“Not just promise,” he raised his pinky finger out to you, “pinky promise.”

And from then on he got all of your secrets, and you got all of his.

So there on the swings, you dragged your feet along the ground to inch your swing closer to his, looping your pinky around his like you had been doing all year.

“Pinky promise.”

The years went by that way. Your best buddy Steve by your side, even through the awkward middle school years. Like the time a boy in your biology class said you looked like the frog he was dissecting and Steve punched him in the face and got suspended for a week. Or when his parents told him they were getting a divorce and you snuck into his bedroom window and stayed up with him all night listening to records until he fell asleep. He laid his head in your lap, his tears dripping onto your pajama pants while you pushed his hair back from his forehead and whispered, “everything’s going to be okay, because I’m not going anywhere.”

As you grew up together, almost everything changed, except that promise you’d made each other on the playground - you were still best friends. Even when you got your first period and realized there were going to be some things in life you just couldn’t talk to him about. Even when he shaved off all of his hair the Summer you were fourteen and you cried when he showed you, which made him cry and he didn’t speak to you until it had grown back. Even when you were in high school and his dad started coming around less and less and he entered what you now refer to as ‘The Mean Steve Years.’

Even the night before junior year, when you were swimming at the lake. Steve took his shirt off and you noticed he was starting to grow chest hair, your surprise slowly melting into a warm feeling in your belly you couldn’t quite understand. Even when your fits of laughter while watching Spinal Tap on your basement’s shag rug turned into a giggly wrestling match until Steve was pinning you down and you felt something hard and strong against your thigh. Even when he ran out of your basement blushing, making an excuse about being home for dinner and then didn’t talk to you for a week.

Eventually, of course, he spoke to you again, but something had shifted between you. Then began the years of glances across the room, sneaking peaks at his strong hand on the gear shift while he drove, his lower lip tucked between his teeth when, getting ready for prom, you asked “zip me up?” like it was the most innocent thing in the world, like the brush of his knuckles on your spine didn’t send heat through you all the way down to your toes.

Through it all, you repeated over and over how you were best friends, just best friends. The oldest lie in the book. It had certainly been for you. And the day you found out it had been for him too, all bets were off.

College had come and gone. You’d gone far for school, he’d stayed close. Your once weekly phone calls with Steve grew fewer and farther apart. Last you’d spoken, you were moving in with your Psychology 101 TA boyfriend and you thought you could hear Steve grinding his teeth on the other end of the line when you’d told him.

Then, after only a few months of coinhabitated bliss, you and James the TA started fighting. The two of you were fighting so often that one day, you just stood up from your shared sofa and walked out. He lost you, and you lost your security deposit. Aimless and yearning for home, you took a job covering sports for the Hawkins Post.

Now, single and speeding down the highway toward your hometown, your whole body tingles with excitement every mile you get closer to seeing your best friend. You haven’t told him you’re moving back yet, you can’t wait for the delicious look of surprise and joy he’ll give you when he sees you.

Only, in the seventh inning, when he finally looks up and spots you in the stands cheering him on, he doesn’t seem excited at all.

Waiting until every last fan left and the away team boarded their bus home, you sneak down to the dugout. Steve is cleaning up empty water cups and brushing sunflower seeds off the bench. His team lost, and he’s angrily muttering to himself about something you can’t quite hear.

“You’ll get ‘em next time, coach,” you say.

He looks up, though he doesn’t seem as startled as you’d thought he’d be, like he had expected you to make your way down here.

“Welcome home,” he says, his body tense.

“You’re not even going to give me a hug?”

“Sorry, I’m just thinking about…the game.”

When you don’t reply, he crosses the dugout and pulls you in for a hug. You sink into him, reveling in his familiar scent as your fists clutch the back of his shirt.

“I missed you,” you mumble, your lips brushing the warm skin of his neck.

Steve pulls back too quickly, your arms fall to your sides lamely as he puts space between you.

“Yeah, uh, you too.” He scratches the back of his neck, staring just past you to avoid your eyes.

“Is everything okay?” You frown.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Steve runs his hands through his hair, making the stringy ends stick up before falling back over his forehead. “Just didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

“Oh. Well my grad school classes are over, so…I’m actually, uh, moving back.”

You’d practiced this little announcement the whole drive home, so why did this moment feel so anticlimactic?

“Right.” He nods. “Cool.

Oh, that’s why.

To avoid the sting of his indifference, you try to pivot.

“I sent you an invite to my graduation, but you weren’t there.”

“Sorry, yeah, I just figured there’d be plenty of people there, I didn’t want to crowd you.”

“I mean, it was just my parents. I didn’t even use all of my tickets.”

“Really? What about Sigmund Freud?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “You mean James? We, uh…I left him.”

For the first time since you’d wandered into the dugout, Steve looks you in the eyes.

“Oh, well, good. Your head can only be shrunk so much, y’know, before the brain damage sets in.”

You crack a smile at his familiar sarcastic rambling.

“Why don’t you seem happy to see me?” You reroute the conversation away from James and back to the moment.

“I am. Of course I am, I just didn’t expect it.” He sets his hands on his hips, trying to come across as casual while acting anything but. “I’m in work mode I guess.”

“Okay, well don’t work too hard.” You smile softly. “Before you were Mr. Harrington, you were Steve. My Steve.”

Steve sighs, lips drawn tight.

“Yeah, well, I should get back to it. The custodians hate it when we leave this place a mess.”

Before you can respond, he turns and goes back to his cleaning duties.

“Hey?” You say, voice feeling small.

Steve turns back to you, “yeah?”

You step carefully toward him, your pinky extended.

“Promise you’re still my best friend?”

A thousand times in your fifteen years of friendship, Steve has wrapped his pinky around yours as you both swore to be friends forever. But this time, he just stares at your outstretched hand, forehead creased in…is it anger? No, something more like disappointment.

“Really?” You drop your hand as your voice rises. “What, have you outgrown me? You have a big grown up job now and no need for a best friend?”

“I don’t know.” Steve shakes his head and you feel your heart crack right down the middle.

“Okay. Okay, well that’s fine. I have other friends.” You try your hardest to sound unaffected, but you know he can see the way your chin is starting to wobble. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Steve huffs, muttering under his breath, “still dramatic as ever I see.”

Your hands ball up at your sides, shaking in fury. Steve knows there is nothing you hate being called more than ‘dramatic.’ Other than maybe when you’d been compared to that dead frog.

Too angry to speak, you just glare at him. He shies away from your anger by turning to throw away another cup.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He sighs, ending the conversation. But you aren’t done.

It’s then that you notice the cooler of water on the dugout wall, lid thrown on the ground and dead gnats floating at the water’s surface.

Not giving yourself a second to overthink it, you grab the cooler and lift it over Steve’s head. Only, as you raise it up, the water sloshes over the edge and your grip slips, tipping the cooler so it covers you both in frigid water and bug guts.

“What the hell?” Steve turns on his heel and stares at you in shock, his locks of brown hair sticking to his forehead and coach’s uniform soaked through. “Why did you do that?!”

You blink the water out of your own eyes and gasp for air.

“Because! Coming back to this school has turned you back into Mean Steve!”

“I wasn’t being mean!”

“Yes, you were! And I didn’t do anything to deserve it. I want my best friend back, right now.”

“He’s standing right here! And now he’s cold, and wet, and probably going to catch a cold like this, so thanks a lot.”

“Oh my god, you’re being such a baby.”

“Oh I’m being a baby? You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum because I wouldn’t make you a pinky promise.”

Chin wobbling, your voice is small as you say, “that’s not why, and you know it.”

Before he gets the chance to distinguish the tears from the water still dripping down your face, you turn from him and run out of the dugout toward your car.

As you open the door of your old beat-up station wagon, a hand reaches around you and slams it shut. For a moment, there is just the quiet of the night, the sound of crickets, Steve’s breath behind you, and nothing else.

You turn and look at him, your makeup completely smeared from the water cooler, body shivering in the crisp night air. His hand stays on the door, head tilted down as he struggles for something to say.

He lands on, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You demand.

“For missing your graduation. And for tonight. I don’t know what my problem is.”

“Maybe you just outgrew me. It’s okay if you…” you swallow hard. “If you’re done with me.”

Steve’s eyes meet yours, a stunned expression on his face as if you just slapped him.

“Done with you? I’ll never be done with you. Never. I can’t. Not when I-”

“When you what?” Your hands are shaking again, this time for a completely different reason.

You can almost see the words forming on the tip of his tongue, but suddenly he drops them, stepping back and shutting down again. God, this is exhausting.

An exasperated growl leaves your throat as you throw your head back and look at the stars. You can feel the water drip from your hair down your legs to the backs of your ankles. You try to find the Big Dipper among the stars. Anything to keep your eyes off of him. But then he speaks.

“Why did you leave James?”

You thought he was going to say something to break your heart. You’d almost rather he do that than make you answer this question.

“Why does that matter right now?” You deflect.

Steve pulls his lips between his teeth. His hands go to his hips and then fly out in exasperation, finally landing with a slap against his thighs. He doesn’t need to speak, he just gives you that look. Eyes wide and a little frenzied. It’s the look he gives you when you’re annoying him, when he’s trying his best to love you but you’re pushing him to his limit. The familiarity of that look, of fighting like you used to fight when you were kids, makes you smile.

“What’s funny?” He asks.

“Just…you.”

Steve laughs but there’s no humor in it. He runs his hands through his hair in the way that you love, the way that makes it fly in all directions until he looks like a mad man. It’s so endearing you take some pity on him and decide to answer.

The anger from earlier has been drained out of you. Everything he’s doing, every expression, every mannerism is so familiar, so very him, that your inhibitions go up in flames.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You ask him.

“Always.” He responds, the quickness of his answer wrapping you in comfort like a warm blanket over your wet, shivering shoulders.

“And you won’t tell?”

“Have I ever?”

“No, you haven’t.”

You step toward him and he almost seems like he’s going to step back. His defenses are up, confused by your sudden change in demeanor.

Once you’re close enough, you reach out and rub a palm over his head to straighten his hair, like you’ve done a million times. Like you did the night of the snow ball in eighth grade, giving him a pep-talk to ask Mindy Tompkins if she wanted to dance. Like you did before he appeared in court to testify in his parent’s custody hearing. Like you did before he interviewed for his first job. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s thinking of all those times, too.

“I left James because we got in a big fight. I was yelling, he was yelling…”

At the mention of James yelling at you, Steve’s jaw tightens. “He yelled at you?”

“Don’t worry, any hell he gave me I gave him right back,” you wink at him. He fights back a smile because he believes you.

With a deep breath you continue, “we were fighting all the time, and then one day he said something that just…something I think he’d probably been trying not to say for a long time. And I couldn’t even fight back, because I knew he was right. So, rather than try to lie, I just left.”

Steve waits a moment, giving you the chance to keep going, but then; sensing you’re having a hard time with the rest, asks, “what’d he say? If he was mean to you I swear to God-”

“No, no,” you chuckle. “He wasn’t mean. He was right.”

You shut your eyes and breathe in deep, steeling yourself, willing yourself not to chicken out.

“He said that I would never be able to give myself to him fully. Not when my heart belongs to somebody else.”

Steve’s jaw tightens then goes slack. “Who does it belong to?”

You tilt your head and smile a sad, knowing smile.

“...c’mon,” you whisper, begging him not to make you say it.

For a long moment, you just look at each other.

The air is tight between you, threatening to snap, only you don’t know if you want to find out what will happen when it does. Will you be drawn to each other, that delicate space between you that’s held you back for so long finally giving way? Or will you be propelled apart, any chance or ‘maybe’ that lives in the back of your mind dying in the dirt under you.

“Y’know, the morning of my first day teaching here, I was so excited,” Steve confides. “I woke up early.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You woke up early?”

“I know, right?” His lips twist into a smirk. “I was up before the sun, I tried on like four different outfits. I was so excited. And the day went perfectly fine, the kids seemed to like me. Even the teachers whose classes I used to cut seemed happy to see me. But when I got home that night, I just sat in the dark in my living room, sipping room temperature beer and feeling like, I don’t know…empty, I guess.”

You frown, hating the thought of him alone like that, wishing he didn’t have to spend even one second of his life not being his carefree, easygoing self.

“It took me a long time to figure out why I wasn’t having fun. The life I worked for was right in front of me, I have a job that I got completely on my own, without my dad wielding his influence. I even bought a house, it’s tiny, nothing like the one I grew up in. But it’s mine.”

“I’m so proud of you, Steve,” you interject.

“But see it’s not right. None of it is right. My life will never be right...”

You hold your breath, somehow knowing in that inexplicable way you’ve always known him down to your core, exactly what he was going to say next.

“...unless you’re in it. But you were with him. And I knew after him there’d be someone else, and that person would never be me. So I stopped calling. Stopped thinking about you, hoping if I moved on from you I’d finally find a life that makes me happy.”

His eyes glass over just slightly. He steps back, just an inch, just enough to study your face with pinched eyebrows, like he’s bracing himself for a fatal blow.

“And did you?” You ask, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Do I seem happy to you?”

You study him, your lungs aching with the breath you’ve been holding.

“So you don’t want me to be your best friend anymore?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I want you to be my girl.”

“Steve.” You step closer, and this time, he doesn’t move away. “I’ve always been your girl.”

Then it happens, it finally happens, the invisible string between you, always pulled taught, fraying at the edges, breaks. Like magnets, your bodies snap together.

His hands fly to your hair, yours to his shoulders. Your lips hover for just a moment, just one excruciating, exhilarating, delicious moment. And then they meet.

Steve kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. Like he’s been slowly and carefully mapping it out for years. But a groan escapes him when you finally part your lips and invite him in, realizing it’s so much better than he’d imagined.

It is everything it’s supposed to be. Drenched confessions of love lead to screeching tires and running stop signs until he finally gets you back to your new apartment. Doorway kisses lead to hands gripping each other desperately as he walks you toward the bed.

You’d been kissing like that for what felt like days, laying across your bed, tangling together, rolling in the sheets in your now mostly dry clothes. After forever like that, Steve pulls back, tentatively beginning to unbutton your top. His fingers are shaking.

Placing your hand softly over his you ask, “are you nervous?”

“What? Nervous? I’m not…I’m definitely not…” he hangs his head and sighs, “yeah, okay. Yeah I’m really nervous.”

His cheeks are scarlet as he avoids your gaze. When he finally looks back up at you, you cover your face in your hands, peeking at him through your fingers.

“I’m nervous, too,” you confess.

The shared relief breaks you both into a fit of laughter. There had been so much build up to this moment, years of it, that now that you’re here, it feels impossible.

“Is this real life?” You ask him through your giggles.

“I honestly don’t know,” he croaks out, making your belly shake with another round of laughter. You’ve both lost your minds.

When the hilarity finally dies down, you look over at Steve, the golden glow of a streetlamp washing over his face.

“Maybe for now you could just hold me?” You suggest.

With a rush of relief, Steve pulls you into him, your back to his chest, legs tangled together.

“Yes, I’ll hold you,” he whispers in your hair, “you’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hold you just like this.”

“Hmm, I think I might have some idea.”

You fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, and sleep more soundly than you have maybe ever.

The night comes and goes, the sun eventually rises. And though neither of you wants to, you eventually get out of bed. Steve’s team has an away game two towns over, and you have boxes to unpack.

So he leaves, you shower, eat, spend the day distractedly unpacking books and clothes, only to rearrange them again and again, just killing the time until you see him again. Hours pass so slowly they feel like days, and as the clock ticks, reality hangs in the air outside your window, threatening to bring you back to earth. Just as you’re wondering if you’d really imagined it all, you hear a knock on your door.

You swing the mahogany open, standing flushed and expectant in the short blue satin dress you hope he’ll love, cheeks pink and not just from your rouge. Steve's eyes drift up and down like he hasn’t seen you in days, despite having his hands on you just this morning.

He leans against the door frame as he devours you with hazel eyes. He’s cleaned himself up, wearing a black sport coat over a black shirt, a single swirl of hair falling over his forehead despite his obvious attempt to hairspray it into place. It’s okay, you like him messy.

His gaze may be confident but his words come out in a clumsy stammer.

“You…it’s…just…aghhh.” He throws his head back, eyes shut tight as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington?” You tease, only flustering him more.

He just shakes his head, tongue poking into his cheek.

“It’s not fair.” He laughs.

Your smile finally breaks through, heart swelling. The arms that held you tight last night belonged to a man, but in front of you now he’s still the devilishly cute schoolboy you’ve been harboring a secret crush on since your playground days.

“Is that a compliment?” You ask.

“It’s a compliment.” He steps over the threshold and grabs you by the waist, finally finding his voice, “a compliment, a praise, a prayer-”

He cuts his own musings off with a kiss, arm looping around your back, crushing your body into his until you’re lifted to your tippytoes. You sigh into it, bunching his lapels in your hands as if you could possibly pull him in any closer. He kisses you so fiercely, his lips eventually slide off of yours, leaving a trail along the corner of your lips, your cheek, the sweet spot behind your ear. He sucks there, just slightly, until your knees turn to water and he has to hold you up for real.

“Speaking of things that aren’t fair,” you exhale.

Steve’s laugh is muffled against your ear and he pulls back to look at you. His lips are stained red from your lipstick. You grin wildly at him as you swipe your finger along each lip to clean him up.

Seizing the opportunity, he holds your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles, then your palm, down to your wrist. If you don’t stop him, you know you’re seconds from ditching your dinner reservation. When his lips press to the pulse point inside your wrist, you consider never leaving the house again.

Then your stomach grumbles, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

“Hungry?” He jokes, letting your hand fall only to lace his fingers with yours.

“Mhm, probably because I skipped dinner last night…” you remind him.

“Let’s get you fed then.” He tips his head toward his waiting car in the driveway. “You’re gonna need your energy.”

“Oh will I?” Your eyebrows raise, daring him to elaborate further.

“Oh yes.” He nods earnestly, though you still catch that teasing glint in his eye. “You’re gonna want to enjoy your dinner, ‘cause I’ve got big plans for dessert.”

You scoff and slap his arm, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your heart skipped a beat at the thought. Apparently, he wasn’t nervous anymore.

The restaurant is nice. Nothing like the dive bars and diners you’ve spent most of your friendship terrorizing. Your Friday nights usually consist of digging through Steve’s car for coins so you can play the same song on the juke box twenty times. On those nights, you take bets on how many people you can annoy out of the bar while you throw back cheap beers and sing badly to the bartender.

But tonight, Steve is a total gentleman to everyone you encounter - the valet, the hostess, the waiter, even the busboy gets a crisp five dollar bill slipped into his palm as Steve tells him, “thanks for taking care of us.”

You stare at him from across the table, head tilted and eyes studying him.

“What?” Steve asks, wiping his face as if maybe there was a glob of chocolate left over from the soufflé you’d shared.

“Nothing, it’s just…” your lips scrunch, considering how to say what you’re thinking without hurting his feelings.

He leans closer from across the table, “tell me, baby. You can tell me anything.”

You know it’s true. He’s been your number one secret keeper your entire life. But something shifted last night, and now it feels like you’re holding each other’s bare hearts in your hands, everything tinted with a vulnerability that wasn’t there until he’d kissed you.

“I’m just wondering,” you lay your hand over his, “when you became such a…man.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, considering your words. You’re nervous you offended him until he turns his hand over to hold yours, giving your fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“Do you not want me to be a man? Because I’ll be literally anything you want me to be. An animal, a vegetable, a mineral, you name it, and I’ll be it.”

Relief pours over you at his joking. It’s clear the same Steve you’ve spent your favorite days with is still the one who’s sitting in front of you tonight.

“I just want you to be you.” You squeeze his hand back.

“Yeah but maybe there’s parts of me you haven’t met yet,” he suggests.

You consider his words. They almost make you sad, like you’re jealous of anyone who's gotten to see any version of him you haven’t yet. Suddenly, you’re hungry again. Not for another five star meal, but for him. All of him. Last night you’d barely gotten a taste, but suddenly, sitting across from him, lights low and his eyes fixed on you, you’re not nervous anymore. Not at all.

You need to do it all again, to see if you can find the boy you love within the man. See if you can have both.

The toe of your shoes run up his calf, lifting the pleated fabric of his trousers as they go.

“Well then why don’t you introduce me?”

Without another word, Steve motions to the waiter to bring the check.

Once home, you stand at your vanity, removing your earrings and the gold necklace you’d worn to dinner - a locket Steve had given you for your birthday in the tenth grade. He had told you he found it on the school bus, but later, his mom had let it slip that he’d spent all of the money he’d made mowing lawns in the summer to buy it for you. Your heart squeezes as you trace your fingers over it now. The signs that he was in love with you had really been there all along, you just hadn’t been paying attention. You’re done missing things.

“Steve, can you help me with something?” You call out.

He stops halfway through pouring your coffee - the flimsy excuse you’d made to invite him inside after he drove you home - and makes his way to your bedroom.

When he appears in the doorway, your eyes find his in the mirror.

“Can you unzip my dress for me?”

Steve swallows, stepping toward you slowly. When he pulls the zipper down, you swear you can feel his fingers shaking a little. Maybe he too feels the importance of this moment, that what happened last night was inevitable, but what happens next will be far more important. He’s never been this quiet before. The thought makes you miss him, even though he’s standing right behind you.

Once the zipper is as low down your back as it’ll go, you turn, meeting his eyes. He’s blinking back at you, both of you breathing shakily, unsure of what comes next.

“Do you still want this?” You ask him.

Steve’s eyes sweep over your face, landing back on yours with an almost aching intensity.

“I’ve always wanted this,” he swears. And you believe him.

“Me too.”

You lift your hands to slide off the straps of your dress. Steve sucks in a breath and doesn’t release it for several seconds, the anticipation nearly killing him.

You take your sweet time lowering the fabric, torturing him as you let the silky threads fall away slowly. The straps finally slip from your fingers, the dress pooling around your hips, leaving you half bare in front of him. He tries to keep his eyes on yours, to be respectful, but he’s only human.

Losing the battle, his gaze drops down your body. It’s only then that he finally releases the breath he’s been holding, exhaling through his nose as his forehead scrunches. At first, you’re worried he’s upset somehow, until you realize he’s not in distress, he’s completely wrecked.

Steve’s forehead falls forward onto your collarbone. His hand finds the small of your back, clinging to you like you’re the only thing keeping him on Earth.

“I…I just…” He tries to speak, but nothing comes of it. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, soothing his worry.

“Steve?” You say, low and comforting.

“Hmm?” Is all he can manage.

“Take me to bed.”

He stands to his full height again, which forces you to look up into his face.

“If you insist,” he says, wrapping his other arm around you and pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Steve lays you on the bed softly before standing to pull his suit jacket off.

“I think I promised you dessert?” He smirks. He’s trying to muster that bravado he’d shown at the restaurant, but that’s not what you want right now.

You pull the rest of your dress down over your hips, leaving you in just your bra and underwear, a matching lacy set you’d selected just for him. He looks down at you in awe, his whole body tight, from the tick of his jaw down to the firm grasp of his hands on your waist.

“You too.” You nod to his clothes, the only thing standing in the way of getting what you so desperately want.

He stands at the end of your bed, and you rise on your elbows to watch. Slowly, he slides the suit jacket off his shoulders and lifts the black sweater underneath over his head. His trousers go next, pooling in a pile at his feet until he’s standing in only his socks, boxers, and white undershirt. He gives you a shy smile.

“All of it.” You insist.

With a deep, shaky breath, he pulls the shirt over his head, revealing his broad chest and that pillow of chest hair that’s been filling your dreams since you were seventeen. He’s bigger than the last time you saw him shirtless. His chest is solid, his stomach taut and chiselded. His biceps are defined, but not bulky, a pulsing vein running down them all the way to his forearms. He’s been working out, clearly, and selfishly you hope it was all for you.

Lip drawn between your teeth, your chest rises and falls with anxious breaths as he removes his socks one at a time and then finally hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“Wait,” you say, and he freezes instantly.

You rise on your knees, shifting toward him on the bed until your fingertips find the goosebumped skin on his stomach, “let me.”

He watches with wide eyes as you gently push his hands out of the way and slip your own fingers under his waistband. Your eyes stay locked to his, looking up at him with a smirk as you lower the fabric over his hips and let it fall away down his legs. In your peripheral vision, you can see him, hard and ready, just inches from brushing against your belly. But you just keep your eyes trained on him as you slide your hand between your bodies and wrap your fingers around his cock, your touch featherlight.

He twitches in your hand and you can’t contain your satisfied smirk. When you run the pad of your thumb over his slit - already leaking desperately - his head falls forward, hair hanging over his forehead and eyes screwed shut.

“Th-that is…” He can’t find the words. You’ve got him speechless and it feels so damn good.

This is what you wanted. To watch all his efforts to seem cool and calm melt away and reveal his truest self. The self that’s desperate for you, the self that’s always been at your mercy, just like you are at his.

You run your hands over him a little firmer, and his whole body jerks forward. Laughing gently you rise higher on your knees, the hand that isn’t working up and down his shaft wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.

Steve kisses you hard and you squeeze around his base in gratitude. Then he whimpers into your mouth and every nerve ending in your body buzzes with pleasure.

Like a reward, you pull him down further, until you’re laying back on the bed, head resting on your pillow, and his body hovers over yours. One of his hands is on the mattress just next to your shoulder, and the other finds its rightful place on your hip.

He runs his fingers along the elastic of your panties, making to push them aside, but you stop him.

“No,” you command gently. “I get to go first.”

He obeys and pulls his hand back, though his eyes are squinting in confusion. Instead of explaining yourself, you lick your own palm before bringing it back to his cock. Twisting your wrist, you begin to stroke slowly, feeling his fist bunch up the sheets next to you.

“Oh, my god,” he breathes through gritted teeth. “Ah, shit, that feels incredible.”

You watch him in awe, your own mouth hanging open, adoring eyes sweeping over his features, taking mental pictures you know you’ll treasure for the rest of your life.

Steve groans, the growl in the back of his throat petering out into another whimper.

“Yes, keep making those sounds, baby,” you coo. “I love seeing you like this.”

With your encouraging words, you start to move your hand faster, twisting all the way to the tip and circling your thumb there until you drag your palm back to his base and squeeze gently. His eyes that have been squeezed shut fly open and he looks at you with pure panic.

“If you…I can’t…if you keep going I’m not gonna last,” he warns you with a breathy chuckle.

There he is. Your sweet boy. All pretenses dropped, telling you the truth without embarrassment. Your best friend, shaking above you, gasping against your skin when his forehead falls to the center of your chest.

“That’s okay,” you reassure him. “I want you to feel good. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

“Can I…mmm - fuck - can-” he tries desperately to find his voice between needy moans, “I need to touch you.”

“Yeah?” You smile. “You want to feel me?”

“God yes,” he breathes. “I’ve wanted this for so long you have no idea.”

The hand not working him brushes his hair away from his eyes, palm caressing his cheek.

“Me too,” you admit. “I dream about this.”

“Do you?” He asks, and it melts you completely.

Because it’s not cocky, not teasing. It’s a prayer, begging for your words to be true. Begging you to tell him he’s not alone, that you need him in the same way he needs you.

“Mhm,” you nod. “I dream about you coming undone for me. About the look on your face when you fall apart, about what sounds you’ll make when you give in.”

Steve’s eyes roll back at your words, shaking his head.

“Okay, that’s it, I need to touch you. Now.”

He drops his mouth to the crook of your neck, trailing down to your chest, sloppy kisses all the way down. You giggle as the last bit of his pride crumbles for you, fingers slotting in his hair to keep him anchored to you.

Once his mouth gets to the top of your breasts he pauses, tilting his face up to look at you as he pulls the straps of your bra down your shoulder. You lift off the mattress a bit to give him enough room to undo the clasp. When he pulls the lace away completely, his tongue runs over his lips, like he’s literally hungry for you.

“Are you kidding me? How are you even real?”

Steve tugs on your legs, dragging you down the bed, making you fall back onto the mattress until you’re underneath him again. You yelp in delight and his lips are on your neck again, mumbling between each kiss, “so beautiful…perfect…my dream girl…”

His words make you feel dizzy, completely drunk off this.

“You’re so sweet to me,” you smile. He picks his head up to look at you, kissing the smile right off of your lips.

“‘Cause you deserve it, baby.”

He’s still kissing you when his fingers dance over the lace between your legs, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“You’re also so fucking hot,” he whispers in your ear.

Steve sits back on his knees to watch as he slides your panties down your legs. You shimmy to give him room, and then hold your breath as he runs his eyes over you, bare for him for the first time. It’s the first time you’ve ever been skittish around him, his stoic silence not relaxing you one bit.

“Listen, uh, this may sound lame but…I don’t know it’s like, sometimes I think I wouldn’t exist if you didn’t either. Does that make any sense? Like I was only put on this Earth because you were too. If I didn’t have this…I wouldn’t…I couldn’t-”

Two seconds ago you were laughing, and now he’s choking up. You sit up to bring your face close to his, making sure he hears you when you whisper, “we’ll always have this. You’ll always have me.”

You kiss his lips like it will somehow seal your words, make them permanent in his mind. He sighs into it, like he’s accepting them from you.

You try to keep him from noticing that your hand is drifting down between you again, reaching out for him, but it’s no use, he knows you well enough to know what you’re doing even when his eyes are closed.

“Yeah, no,” he scolds, pushing your hand back. “It’s still my turn.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“”We can argue about it later,” he tells you, “but right now…”

Steve grabs your shoulders, turning you so you’re on your knees in front of him, him on his knees behind you. He kisses along your shoulder and you tilt your head to give him more access, sighing in defeat. His tongue draws long stripes up your neck and up higher until they’re swirling over your ear, his tongue dipping in. You’ve never had someone do this before and you’re so surprised by how good it feels, warm and wet in the best way. You whine a little and he smiles against you.

“Your mouth is so good,” you say, not sure if you’re even making sense anymore.

“Mmh, later I’m going to taste you for real, but first…”

Without you realizing it, he’s snaked his arm down your front, his fingers finding the slickness between your thighs and sliding through it gently. The pads of his fingers drag achingly light over every sensitive nerve. Your body jolts in response, so worked up that even just this gentle touch overwhelms your senses. You’re shaking now, so much that he lays his other hand flat over your stomach to settle you. After exploring you for a few more seconds, he circles your clit, just once, and you gasp.

“There?” Steve asks in your ear when you shiver under his touch.

You nod and let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Yes, yes I love that.” You whimper.

“Love, huh? You love when I touch you?”

You just nod again, knowing you look pathetic with your eyes shut so tight and your body quivering but you’re so far past caring. Steve picks up the pace, alternating between circling and tapping your clit until you’re so gone you start grinding down, riding his hand.

Feeling that familiar tightness in your stomach, you realize you never want this feeling to end. You rise up on your knees, causing his hand to fall away. Just as he opens his mouth to protest, you reach back and wrap your fingers around his cock again.

“Fuck.” The word comes out harsh and broken, like he’s just been punched.

Twitching in your hand again, Steve’s head falls forward to rest just between your shoulder blades. He looks down, mesmerized by the sight of your delicate fingers running over his thick length and the curve of your ass just inches away. He swears nothing could possibly be better than this, until you lean forward and guide the head of cock through your slick, dragging the tip through your folds and over your clit.

“Jesus, fu -” Before he can get out another curse, you slide him down to your dripping hole, slipping him inside.

You both shiver in unison, frozen in place as you adjust. Steve grabs your hips but doesn’t pull you back, not wanting to force you to do anything. So you do it for him, rocking your hips back until he slides deeper inside.

“Ah…ah ah fuck, you’re so…” His breath is coming out in increasingly desperate gasps with every inch of access you give him.

“Oh my god, Steve, can you feel how much you’re stretching me out? Feels so good,” you cry out.

“Yeah, yes, baby, I feel it. I feel all of it.”

Once he’s fully buried inside of you, he pulls your upper body back against him. His hands are everywhere as you start to rock together - on your stomach, your tits, your neck, your hips - gripping and gliding like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll disappear.

You’re so full of him that your mind is hazy, almost slipping away into yourself until you remember you’re supposed to be paying attention.

“Talk to me,” you beg him. “Wanna hear you.”

He groans against your ear, the vibration running down your neck. You’re grinding back onto him as he rolls his hips to hit you as deep as possible, and your breath is completely stolen. He takes a second to groan again and nip at your jaw before he speaks.

“Yeah? What do you wanna hear? That I’ve never felt this fucking good in my entire life? That you’re so tight and hot around me I’m afraid I’m gonna come already?”

In response to his perfect words, you lift your arm, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He takes the opportunity to kiss your arm before he keeps crooning.

“I’m gonna go harder now, honey. Is that okay?”

“Mhm, please,” you moan.

Steve’s hands land on your hips, pushing you forward just enough to bring you back again, testing your response. You cry out, a sharp squeal that tells him exactly what he wants to know.

“There we go. Better like that, right?” He asks.

“So good, please keep going,” you whimper.

“Well if you insist…” he jokes before bringing you forward and back again, thrusting his hips forward to meet you each time.

The room fills with the sound of your bodies coming together over and over, the soft smacks of your ass against his thighs. The pressure of his thrusts is so good that you fall forward, supporting yourself with your hands on the mattress as he takes over the rhythm. Your moans are uncontained now, nearly crying from the pleasure.

“Gonna keep you just like this.” He hasn’t forgotten your request for him to talk you through it. “Under me, full of me. You deserve it, baby, you deserve everything. So patient with me, so good to me.”

You cry out his name, almost unable to bear the affection you feel for him. The moment is so tender you’re afraid you’re going to shatter, break into a million pieces underneath him. You can’t help the small sniffle that escapes you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he draws you back up by your shoulders to hug you from behind, one hand tilting your chin so he can look you in the eyes. “You okay? Was it something I said?”

“Yes, it’s everything, you’re everything.” You’re afraid you won’t be able to find the words to explain it. “It’s just, I don’t ever want this to end.”

Steve’s face floods with relief, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“It’s never gonna end.” He kisses your cheek, right over the tear that’s streaking your skin. When he kisses your mouth gently, it tastes like salt water.

“Believe me, now that I’ve gotten my hands on you, God himself couldn’t pull them off. Never letting you go now.”

“Promise?” You ask.

He laughs once before his face goes dead serious, “pinky promise.”

As he says it, his hand is sliding down your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps until his fingers find your clit again.

“Steve!” You sob.

It's the loudest you’ve been all night and you can tell by the way his free arm tightens around your waist that he loves hearing you just as much as you love hearing him. So you don’t hold back, words incoherent as you let out a string of moans and babbled praises.

Steve’s fingers pick up the pace on your clit as he rocks his cock in and out of you, making you tremble each time he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. Of course he’s the first and only man who has ever found it. You clench around him hard each time he does.

“Oh, shit, so tight.” He can barely grunt the words out with his jaw clenched so tight. “Are you gonna come? Please tell me you’re gonna come. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this, please don’t make me wait anymore.”

His voice is hoarse as he begs. Nobody has ever been this desperate for you before. Hell, no one has ever cared about your pleasure this much before either. The connection between you is so cosmic and intoxicating that the world is spinning around you, stars sparking behind your eyes when you squeeze them shut. You gulp down one sharp breath, and then you’re gone.

“Oh!”

You’re shaking, body absolutely convulsing as you reach the peak, and then fall over the edge. You can’t speak, can’t even breathe, mouth wide in a silent scream as you’re hit with wave after wave of the sweetest ecstasy you’ve ever felt.

It’s almost too much, your hand grabs Steve’s, pausing his work on your clit as you pant desperately, “come with me. Please, need you here with me.”

It doesn’t take much convincing at all. It’s clear Steve has been right at the edge of it this whole time, because as soon as the words leave your mouth he’s breaking. A sound from so deep inside him, you swear its primal, rips out of his chest. The warmth of him fills you, beginning to drip down your legs where he’s buried to the hilt. Steve’s groan fades into a breathy whisper.

“I….oh my god…I love you. I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers as he twitches once more, pulling your ass flush against him so he can hit that spot you love one last time.

When it’s over, he holds you there for several minutes. His arms are wrapped around your waist, head resting on the nape of your neck. You rub your hands gently up and down his forearms, both of you needing time to make sure that actually just happened, that it wasn’t a dream.

Only when you’re both sure this is real life does he let go. You slide down on your front and collapse into the bed. Your arms fold on the pillow so you can rest your head on your hands. You breathe the happiest sigh of satisfaction. Steve lays next to you, looking at the ceiling, one arm under his head, one on his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you let this perfect moment wash over you.

“So…” Steve says, never one to let silence linger. “That was like, what? A five out of ten?”

Without opening your eyes you throw your hand in his general direction, smacking him on the arm as hard as your spent body can manage.

“Ow!” He fake cries. “I’m kidding!”

You turn your head to face him, cheek still smushed into the pillow. He shoots you a smirk and winks.

You’re still completely naked and Steve doesn’t miss the goosebumps all over your skin. He lifts himself to pull the bedsheet up and over you. Giggling, you pull it higher until it’s over both of your heads. He finds you under the covers, your own little tent where only the two of you exist, just like when you were kids.

Your lips twist, trying to suppress a smile that escapes anyway.

“What?” He asks, your smile making his cheeks go hot.

“You said you love me.”

Bashful, he pulls the sheets back off, “okaaay, alright. That’s enough outta you.”

You laugh hard as he rolls away like he’s going to get out of the bed. You grab his arm to pull him back and he pretends he’s going to fight you on it for only a second before giving in and falling back onto the mattress.

When you turn on your side to face him, he follows suit, until you’re laying chest to chest, laughter fading slowly.

You reach out a single finger, running it over his jaw, across his cheeks, down his nose, even along the soft skin just under his eyes, caressing all of the features you’ve known for so long but never gotten to touch like this.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

You thought after all these years, you’d seen all of Steve’s mannerisms. But this look on his face is something completely new, like he’d been waiting all his life to hear those words.

“Promise?” He asks.

When you lift your pinky out, he wraps his own around it.

You kiss his hand slowly and swear, “pinky promise.”

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ.✧:･ﾟ.✧ *:･:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading! i know i'm new to the stranger things au world, i hope y'all like what i came up with! may have more steve stories to come! xoxo

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hear that, stu? i think she wants a motive