BO 𝜗𝜚 23. she/her. concert go-er. taurus. baker. mamma mia repeater. hopeless romantic. fleetwood mac lover. steve harrington enthusiast. i do not support ai. 18+ blog, minors dni!
⤷ current works
Ever Since New York | Steve Harrington x f!Reader | 18+ | Ongoing
⤷ you and steve were joint at the hip since birth. your neighbour, your confidant, your person. after graduation, you didn’t speak for six years, until you see him on stage performing in a band with your roommates new boyfriend. except when you’re introduced, he acts as if he doesn’t know who you are. pretending that he doesn’t write all of his songs about you.
12 Weeks of Summer | Steve Harrington x f!Reader | 18+ | Coming Soon
⤷ mrs wilson, your grandmother, is the harrington's neighbour. after your grandfather's passing two years ago, steve harrington spends a lot of time with mrs wilson, taking her to appointments or getting her groceries. when you and your younger sister julie spend the summer in hawkins, all you can wonder is why is this high schooler spending so much time with your grandmother? why is he spending the rest of his time with julie’s new friends? maybe he isn’t as bad as he seems, it’s a shame you’re only here for one summer.
steve harrington x fem reader | best friends to strangers to lovers | slow burn... like 8 years slow burn | miscommunication | bestfriend!steve, neighbour!steve, rockstar!steve | set in 90s & 00s | eventual smut
summary: you and steve were joint at the hip since birth. your neighbour, your confidant, your person. after graduation, you didn’t speak for six years, until you see him on stage performing in a band with your roommates new boyfriend. except when you’re introduced, he acts as if he doesn’t know who you are. pretending that he didn't follow you to new york and doesn’t write all of his songs about you.
cw: swearing, alcohol use, smut, kissing, spit, oral (f receiving)
an: eeee i'm excited for this chapter, i hope you enjoy it!!
wc: 10.8k
• .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
29th January, 2005
Hawkins, Indiana
Steve never really knew why, but there was something about grocery shopping that he always enjoyed now. Like if he stood in the right aisle long enough, picked up the right brand of something he didn’t need, he could convince himself he was just a normal guy doing a normal chore. Maybe it was because he’d never go grocery shopping with his parents when he was younger, and it was some sense of normalcy that he was now craving twenty years later.
Hawkins had a way of shrinking every time he came back. The same cracked pavements, the same flickering streetlights that haven’t been fixed in fifteen years, the same faces that looked like they’d been waiting for him to leave again before he even arrived.
He tries to avoid this town as much as he can nowadays, whenever he returns he tells himself it’s just a quick trip to see Robin, or Dustin and avoid his parents, who he still hasn’t actually spoken to since he decided to leave to pursue his music. But, somehow it never really works like that.
He’s wandering down an aisle in Melvald’s with a half filled basket hanging loosely from his hand, when he hears a familiar voice calling his name which his body reacts to instantly. Not recognition in the usual sense, but something that sits in his chest before his brain has even caught up. He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t turn straight away because voices like that don’t belong in places like this anymore, not to him.
But when he does look over his shoulder, your Mom is standing only a few feet away.
Time has been kind to her in the way it seems to be kind to people who stay still. A few more lines at the corners of her eyes, a softness around her face that makes Hawkins feel briefly less grey than it did a second ago.
Steve’s fingers tighten slightly around the plastic handle of the basket without him noticing and for half a second, he considers turning back around. Pretending he didn’t hear her and pretending this is just another aisle, another day, another version of Hawkins he doesn’t have to engage with.
But she’s already seen him, and her face breaks into recognition like it was always waiting there. “Steve,” She says, surprised. Then she speaks softer, like she can’t quite believe it. “Oh my goodness.”
His chest tightens at how easy it sounds, like nothing ever got messy. There was a point in his life where he practically lived at your house, where this woman standing in front of him was more of a mother to him than his own ever was.
“Hey,” He manages, it comes out smaller than he means it to, and he hates that she hears it like that. There’s a pause between the two of them, just the low hum of the fridges, the distant roll of a trolley, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel louder than it should.
“I didn’t know you were back in town,” She says gently as she takes a few steps closer to him, her familiar smile warm across her lips.
“Yeah,” He nods once, “Only for a couple days, catching up with a few friends and stuff.” Her eyes stay on him a second too long, just observing, like she’s trying to understand how someone can look the same and still feel completely rearranged.
“How are you guys?” He asks quickly to fill the silence, then clears his throat. “How’s everyone?”
She smiles a little at that, the kind of smile that already knows where this is going. “Oh, we’re all good. The boys are starting college soon and Elizabeth’s about to have her second baby, can you believe that?” Steve gives a small laugh, but it doesn’t really land. It just hangs there between them, polite and empty.
“And Blue is doing good too,” She adds, like it’s just another detail. Like it doesn’t shift anything at all, but the two of them both knew that it did.
It had been four and a half years since the last time he’d seen you, or even spoken to you. 1,670 days – not that he was counting. He used to hear you everywhere. In songs that didn’t sound like anything you liked, in jokes that weren’t funny until you laughed at them. It was only this past Christmas that he was able to sit and watch Home Alone and not hear your laughter in the back of his mind.
“Blue,” He repeats, like he needs to confirm it exists in this sentence. “Right. Yeah.”
New York. Of course, you were in New York. Steve had spent a lot more time than he’d like to admit thinking about where you were, and what you were doing.
Your dreams were always too big for Hawkins, but now you were too far away to fit neatly into anything he understands at this point in his life. His brain starts building the idea of you there automatically anyway, sauntering down streets he’s never seen, looking out at a skyline that doesn’t stop, a perfect version of you that exists somewhere completely outside of him.
“What’s she doing out there?” He asks after casually clearing his throat, trying to keep his voice even like it’s just passing conversation, like this information doesn’t even matter to him.
Your Mom adjusts her grip on the basket she’s holding, thoughtful for a second. “She’s doing okay,” She says softly. “She graduated, now she’s got her own apartment. She’s just figuring things out.”
Steve nods slowly, but it’s more automatic now like he’s not really in the aisle anymore, he’s somewhere between here and there, between what Hawkins is and what New York must be. “Well that sounds great,” He says quietly. “I’m glad.”
And he means it, but it doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like something else entirely that he doesn’t have a name for yet, but he knows he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for the next couple months at least.
He shifts his weight, forcing himself back into motion, like movement will reset whatever just changed. “It was really good seeing you, but I’m actually meeting a friend. Give my love to the family, okay?” He offers her a small smile as he nods gently.
“You too, Steve,” She replies, and there’s something in her voice when she says it. Something soft like understanding she doesn’t say out loud. She knew all those years ago that you and Steve were hopelessly in love with one another, that it wasn’t just a crush you have when you’re fourteen. She was just as heartbroken as you were when you’d left all those summers ago, not only for you but for Steve, too.
He walks away before he can think too hard about it, before anything else about what she’s said about you can settle. And for the rest of his trip around Melvald’s, he doesn’t remember what he came in for, but he remembers one thing.
New York. He finally knew where you were.
3rd February, 2005
Austin, Texas
Ever since you’d left, Steve had never really been the kind of person who stayed in one place too long. Even Hawkins had only ever been a stop he hadn’t properly meant to return to, a place he kept coming back to like a habit he couldn’t fully break, even when he knew it didn’t fit him anymore.
Austin felt different. Louder and warmer like the city didn’t care if you belonged there as long as you made enough noise to justify existing inside it. The band had settled in Austin a few months ago, Chris had managed to get them a regular gig playing at a stuffy bar five nights a week which paid well enough and gave them the chance to get a real taste of the life they were working towards.
The house they were staying in wasn’t really a house, it was more like a half-converted rental that someone’s cousin knew someone else was subletting for cheap. The kind of place with mismatched furniture, scuffed floors, and an old fridge that hummed way too loudly.
Steve liked it more than he expected to. There were instruments everywhere, cables snaking across the floor like they’d taken root, empty coffee cups stacked on the counter, someone’s hoodie permanently draped over the back of a chair like it had claimed ownership of it.
It felt lived in, like a proper home, which Steve had been craving for as long as he could remember. But ever since he saw your Mom at the store, Steve couldn’t shake it. The thought sat with him constantly now, uninvited and persistent. New York.
You in New York. He’d heard like it was nothing, like it didn’t rearrange entire rooms inside him. He hadn’t told anyone in detail, he couldn’t as nobody knew about anything that had happened. Only Chris knew about the mysterious girl that broke his heart, and he wasn’t going to tell him about this now. So he just carried it instead, like everything else.
He’s sitting on the worn-out couch when Chris walks into the room, and Chris is already talking before he’s even properly through the door, phone pressed tight to his ear, his voice loud and cracking with excitement.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m telling you – that’s perfect. No, no, we can absolutely make that work. Yes, LA, we can be there.” He’s pacing now, barefoot, one hand running through his hair like he can’t physically contain whatever is happening on the other end of the call.
Steve watches him from the couch, guitar still resting against his leg but is now long forgotten. Jay is on the floor tuning a bass string that already sounds fine, Dan is half asleep on the armchair with his head tilted back like gravity gave up on him hours ago. Chris turns away, voice dropping into something more serious, then bursts out laughing again like he can’t help it.
“Okay, okay, yeah. We’ll talk in ten. Don’t go anywhere, alright? Don’t sign anyone else in the next ten minutes.” He hangs up and stares at the phone like it might start ringing again immediately. “Oh my God.”
Jay looks up slowly as his fingers twirl around the peg, his eyebrows furrowed at Chris’s outburst. “What?”
Chris turns to them, eyes wide, grin splitting across his face like he’s trying not to explode. “It’s happening, guys. It’s fucking happen. We’ve got an opportunity, like a proper opportunity.” The room shifts instantly, even the air feels different.
Steve can’t help but sit up slightly, and Chris points at them like he still can’t believe it. “LA, Upturn Records. They heard our set from last month at the bar, someone recorded it, passed it along. Apparently they’ve been looking for new acts and they want to talk to us. In LA.”
For a second, no one speaks. Then Jay lets out a low whistle, and Dan groggily sits up from his armchair properly for the first time in an hour. “You’re serious?”
Chris laughs again, breathless. “Deadly. We could actually do this.”
The room erupts all at once after that. Overlapping voices, disbelief, someone knocking over a beer bottle they don’t even bother to pick up. Jay is already smiling like he can see something just beyond the walls, Chris is pacing again, this time faster, like he’s trying to outrun how big it feels.
Steve should feel it too, and he does. Just not as much as the others, because even as everyone is talking over each other, already planning the setlist for their first headline tour, Steve’s thoughts go somewhere else entirely.
New York. You in New York. How LA is even further away from you than he is right now, and he’s not sure he wants to be any further away from you anymore.
Chris is still talking, half to himself now. “This is it, guys. This is actually it.”
Steve exhales once looking down at the guitar in his hands, then back up at the guys who are still pacing the room. “Or,” He says. His voice isn’t loud but the room quiets anyway. Steve shifts slightly, elbow resting on his knee now. He doesn’t look at anyone in particular at first, like he’s talking more to the idea than the room. “We could go somewhere else.”
Jay frowns, tilting his head over at Steve slightly. “What, like Nashville?”
Steve shakes his head once. “No. New York.”
Chris actually laughs at Steve then, “New York?” The room goes still in a different way now. More like everyone is questioning Steve than being excited.
Steve nods like it’s obvious, like he’s not already aware of how much this changes everything. “There’s this festival,” He adds quickly, before doubt can settle in too deep. “This summer. I heard about it, loads of labels go to sign new talent. It’s not just one shot like LA, it’s bigger.”
Dan leans back, arms folding across his chest as his face scrunches up slightly, almost concerned at the idea that Steve is against this idea. “We already have a shot in LA.”
“I know,” Steve says, sharper than he means to. Steve exhales through his nose, leaning forward slightly now, more certain as he speaks even if he doesn’t fully feel it yet. “I know. But – LA is where dreams go to die.”
That gets a reaction, a few quiet laughs and even scoff. But Steve doesn’t smile, he just keeps going. “Everyone goes there thinking it’s going to be different, and it just eats people. Chews them up, spits them out. Same story every time.”
Chris studies him now, sitting down on the coffee table opposite Steve and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And New York?”
“New York is where music is right now.” Steve tumbles out, it sounds more certain when he says it out loud like it’s been waiting in him for a while. He swallows, then adds quietly, “And this festival, it’s real. It’s big. If we’re going to do this properly, that’s where people are going to be looking.”
There’s a silence over the room again as Jay glances at Chris as Chris looks at Steve. Jay lets out a small sigh as he steps forward, shrugging a shoulder. “I actually know that festival. A few buddies and I used to play there,” Jay says finally, slowly. “Before we came here, but.. yeah. He’s not wrong, the scene’s picking up.”
Chris rubs his jaw, thinking as he leans back to look up at Jay. “LA is confirmed though,” He says, but he can see the look in Steve’s eye that he knows too well, that this is something that Steve really, really wants. Chris lets out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face. “We could split it. Try LA first. Then New York after? Or–”
Steve shakes his head immediately. “No. If we do this, we do it properly. Not half and half.” That lands harder between the group, and Chris looks at him again, really considering him now, not just the idea.
Jay is the first to break, “You know, we’d have more pull in New York anyway,” He says quietly. “If what you’re saying about the festival is right.”
Chris exhales as he looks around the room like he’s weighing something invisible, his eyes set on Jay for a moment before he nods gently. “Okay.”
Steve blinks, fighting a small smile that’s crept across his lips as he shifts forward slightly in his seat. “Okay?”
Chris points a finger at him, “Don’t make me regret this, Harrington.” There’s a beat, and then Chris grins, clapping his hands together as he stands up from the coffee table. “We’re going to New York.”
The room explodes again. But Steve can only lean back slightly, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction, even though his chest is still tight in a way he can’t quite name. But somewhere in the back of his mind, one thought rises clean and sharp through everything else.
New York. You’re there. And now, he will be too.
19th May, 2006
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
The green room feels too bright around you for an atmosphere that’s about to go dark in the best possible way. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering slightly every so often like they’re tired of holding themselves together. The air is warm in that stale, trapped way like it’s been breathed through too many lungs already and hasn’t had a chance to reset.
Haley is talking beside you, leaning back against the edge of a crate with her arms folded loosely, mid-story about something that happened earlier in the day. You’re nodding at the right moments, smiling when she expects it, but most of your attention is split in half without your permission.
Because Steve is across the room. He’s not looking at you, but you can feel when he almost does and somehow it’s worse than if he just stared.
The last time you’d seen Steve properly, just the two of you, was that night two weeks ago when Haley was in Boston with Chris. He’d called the next day to make plans to go out for a drink with you, but Haley asked if you wanted to go to the movies and you couldn’t tell her you had a date with Steve. This happened two or three more times over the last two weeks, but now you were in a completely different state, who knows what could happen?
He’s leaning against a road case like he belongs there with his guitar strapped across him, fingers idly resting near the neck like he’s forgotten they’re even there. Chris is pacing near the door, talking too fast into a phone call that’s already turned into shouting. Jay is crouched near an amp, tightening something that doesn’t need tightening, and Dan is standing next to Steve, talking his ear off about how excited he is about tonight.
Steve shifts his weight slightly, just enough that your eyes lift without you deciding to. It happens at the same time and for a second, it’s nothing obvious, nothing anyone else would catch. His gaze catches yours and holds it, not long enough to be safe in a room full of people who have no idea what’s happening between you, but it’s long enough to feel it in your stomach.
Then his mouth does something subtle, not a smile exactly, more like the idea of one he doesn’t let finish like he’s holding it back on purpose, and your breath catches before you can stop it.
Haley says something beside you, but you don’t hear it properly so you eventually force your eyes away from him first. “Hello?” Haley nudges your arm lightly, ducking her head toward you slightly as if she’s trying to pull you from wherever you are. “Are you even listening?”
You blink, turning toward her too quickly as you offer her a small smile. “Yeah, sorry. What?”
She squints at you, unconvinced, but there’s no heat in it. “I said, Chris is being weird at the moment. Like he’s keeping some secret from me or something, I don’t know.”
You frown gently as you watch her while she speaks before glancing over the room at Chris who’s still on the phone. You part your lips to say, I’m sure nothing’s going on, to calm her. But you can’t help but think about the fact that Chris is the only one that knows about you and Steve, what if he can’t handle keeping that secret?
“I’m sure everything is fine, babe.” You place your hand on her knee to give her a gentle squeeze, forcing a convincing smile across your lips as you try to push the thoughts of Steve and Chris out of your mind.
You try to settle back into the conversation, but it doesn’t quite take. Because now you’re aware of Steve in a different way, in a way where you’re going to have to pull him aside and tell him to tell Chris to get his act together.
Pulling you from your thoughts, Chris’s voice cuts through the room suddenly. “Ten minutes!” Everything shifts at once like a switch being flipped. The room tightens, straps are adjusted, water bottles picked up, someone knocking a set list back into place even though it’s already taped down.
Haley stands from next to you, stretching her arms slightly as she speaks, “I’m grabbing a water. Do you want anything, babe?”
You shake your head gently, flashing her a small smile. “I’m good, thanks.”
As she makes her way from next to you, your eyes drift again before you can stop them. Steve is standing straighter now, his hand adjusting the strap over his shoulder, slow and familiar, like he’s done it a thousand times and still checks it anyway. Chris is still talking near the door, but Steve isn’t listening properly.
Not to him, not to anyone. Not when his eyes catch you again, and this time neither of you look away. You both hold it, just enough to be noticed. His expression changes in response, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s annoyed at himself for reacting at all. Like he knows he shouldn’t be doing this here, now, in front of everyone.
Haley comes back in with a bottle, twisting the cap shut before her hand comes up to rest against your arm. “Wanna go find a good spot?” She asks lightly.
You nod gently, offering her your full attention with a soft smile, lifting your hand to lace her fingers through yours. “Yeah, definitely. Let’s go.”
Chris shouts again, that it’s almost time and the countdown snaps everything tighter. Jay rolls his shoulders and Dan pushes himself upright, Chris moves toward the door, hand already on the handle, energy pulling forward like gravity has changed direction.
Haley walks the two of you to the door leading to the stage, announcing to the group that you two were going to find the best spot in the house to cheer them on from. The two of you wished them all luck, blowing them kisses and just as you turn to leave the room, you catch Steve throwing you a small wink.
It landed in your chest, causing a small smile to pull at your lips before you quickly spun on your heels and trailed after Haley.
20th May, 2006
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
After a few drinks in the green room after the show, you all head back to the bar at the hotel. The band's taken over two pushed together tables near the back, half-empty glasses scattered between them, laughter carrying over the music humming through the speakers overhead.
The show had gone amazingly, the kind of night of their career that they’d remember forever. Chris is halfway through recounting something that happened during the show, his hands moving wildly as he talks. Jay is laughing so hard he's nearly spilling his drink and Haley is tucked into the booth beside you, smiling as Dan argues about a song nobody can agree on.
For the first time all day, everyone seems relaxed, including Steve. You catch him smiling from across the table, head tipped back as Chris exaggerates another detail. It's unfair, really, how beautiful he looks when he's truly relaxed and happy.
You look away first, taking another sip of your drink. A few minutes later, the noise starts feeling like too much, too warm and crowded. You push yourself out of the booth, grabbing your purse as you lean down to Haley’s ear that you’re heading out for a smoke, and you’ll be back in a minute.
She nods easily, flashing you a smile before she’s already turning back to whatever Chris is saying, nobody pays much attention as you weave through the bar and push through the front doors.
The cool night air hits you instantly, the city stretches around you in distant headlights and passing traffic, a welcome change from the noise inside. You lean against the brick wall near the entrance, taking a long breath.
For a moment, it's peaceful. But then the door opens behind you and you don't need to turn around, because you already know who it is.
“You disappearing on me, Blue?” You hear a familiar voice speak from behind you, you turn over your shoulder as you pull your cigarette from your lips to see Steve leaning against the wall next to you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as your fingers dip into your handbag and hold a cigarette out to him.
“Mm, no. Just needed some air.” Your voice was gentle as he pushed off of the wall to take a step closer to you, taking the stick between his fingers and placing it between his lips.
Just as you placed your own cigarette between your lips to free your hands and fish in your bag to grab your lighter, you felt his large hand come down to your waist to hold you steady as he leant down to you. Your eyes tracked him as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours, and held it steady as his cigarette lit up.
He pulls himself away from you, but keeps his fingers splayed at your waist as he inhales then tilts his head back to exhale it out the side of his mouth. “Did you have fun at the show tonight?”
All you could do was nod gently, the words your brain was forming couldn’t make it out past any further than your lips as your eyes took in the sight before you. Steve in a long sleeve white shirt with the arms rolled up, the fabric stretching at his biceps. The way his curls had been drenched in sweat but have now dried, the way you’re being held so close to him right now that you can see the regrowth of his stubble across his jaw. You can smell the cologne he’d sprayed after the show to cover up the smell from being on stage, he smelt like sweat and a sweet blend of lavender and vanilla.
Someone exiting the hotel doors and walking past the two of you to the car park shook you from your trance instantly, causing you to pull from his grip and clear your throat gently as you took a long inhale from the cigarette. Steve’s lip quirked into a smirk as he watched you lean your shoulder against the wall and look up at him. He leant his back against the wall, his spare hand shoving into his pocket.
“I had a great time,” You nodded softly, still not being able to break your eyes from his. Your voice came out in a softer tone as you tilted your chin up to him. “You looked really hot on stage.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head down to you as he turned, his shoulder brushing the brick that was holding you both up. You watched his eyes take you in from your head to your toe, and you couldn’t deny the heat rising to your skin as he did. “Well, you look really hot right now.”
And as you swear he’s about to lean in, you distract yourself by huffing out a small laugh and take one last drag before letting it drop to the floor and ashing it out with the toe of your heel. “Shut up, Harrington.”
His eyebrows furrowed gently as he watched you, then looked out onto the street that your hotel was facing. The two of you stood there for a moment as you leant back against the wall next to him, your shoulder pressing into his arm. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you tried to ignore the feeling of your skin against his, even through a layer of fabric.
The cigarette drops from his fingers and now his own toe is putting it out, his hands slip into the pockets of his jeans as he takes a step away from the wall to look at you leaning against it. He took in the way your shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath you were taking in, knowing that you were trying to steady yourself.
Steve crossed the short distance between you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw gently. His calloused thumb barely skimmed against your cheek as it ran back and forth, his other hand coming up to hold against your waist as he spoke. He was close enough that the warmth of his breath fell past your own lips, “You really do look beautiful tonight, Blue.”
A small, unwarranted sigh left your lips at his words, the weight of your head falling into his hand as you felt yourself getting drunk from his touch. Your tongue parted past your lips to slip along your lower lip as your eyes switched from his to his lips. Both of your hands grasped at his shirt, not knowing if you were pulling him in or pushing him away as your voice croaked out weakly. “Everyone’s probably wondering where we went, Steve.”
He didn’t say anything, just slipped his fingers from your jaw to hold the back of your neck, his fingers swirling around the strands of your hair at the back of your head. You watched him lean in but miss your lips, his hot mouth grazing your jaw before settling beneath your ear. His hand that sat at your waist slipped round to your lower back, pulling your body closer to his as he spoke against your skin. “They’re definitely not, baby.”
The name he called caused a quiet moan to escape you, and you could feel his smirk growing against your skin as his teeth nipped you gently, before soothing you with his tongue. “They might, someone might come looking for us.”
You heard him let out a small huff as he lifted his head to look down at you. The hazel in his eyes sparkled as they got lost in yours, and any frustration he held for making him stop instantly melted. Instead, he nodded softly and slowly pulled his hands away from you, fingers dragging down your arm until they laced through your own. “Can I come see you? You know, later.”
Your teeth sunk into your lower lip slightly to stop the smile that was undoubtedly growing into your cheeks, your fingers squeezed around his own gently as you nodded up at him. “I was gonna head up soon anyway, actually.”
His head tilted like a puppy who’s just heard his favourite word. His eyebrows lifted gently as his lips mirrored the smirk that you were trying to hide, slowly pulling his hand away from yours to rest on his hip. “Where are you, 304?”
A confused laugh left your lips, “How’d you know that?”
“I was with Claire when she was booking the rooms.” He shrugged easily, like him memorising which room you were booked in was completely normal. He dug his hand into his pocket where he pulled out his wallet, flicking through the insides before speaking again gently.
“Besides, I had to make sure I was close to my girl.” His voice whispered as he pulled his key card out, flashing it round to you to show the number 306 written across the top. Before you could even open your mouth to reply, he flashed you a quick wink and was walking back into the hotel lobby.
After Steve disappeared into the hotel you gave yourself a minute to catch your breath, grounding yourself as the cool bricked wall pressed against your back. It was long enough for the air to settle your breathing, but not long enough to actually stop thinking about him and the way his hands felt pressed against your skin.
The city is quieter around you as the night rolls into the early hours of the morning, the rush of traffic thinning out as the city glows around you in scattered lights and reflections. Your eyes trail across the street in front of you one last time before pushing yourself off of the wall and make your way back into the hotel.
The second you step back inside, the warmth instantly wraps around you again. The bar is somehow louder than when you stepped out, you don’t know how long you’ve been outside but it was long enough to result in Chris standing on his chair shouting out the words to the song that’s playing softly through the speakers in the bar.
You find yourself smiling as you weave through the tables of people toward the rest of the group, everyone laughing with Chris and singing along with him as he tries to keep himself upright. You slip next to Haley, pressing your hand down on her shoulder to catch her attention.
Her head whips around to you as her straw sits between her lips, her eyes widening as she sees you. “There you are! I thought you’d gotten lost,” She giggles drunkenly as the straw falls past her lips, she pulls your chair out for you to sit back down. “Come sit, Chris is on his second rendition of Tina Turner now.”
You glance up at Chris once more, letting out a small laugh before you shake your head to catch Haley’s eyes again. “I’m actually going to head up to bed, it’s been a long day.” Your eyes glance around the table as you speak, taking note that Steve’s chair is now empty.
“Are you sure?” Her bottom lip pouted out gently as she looked up at you, her spare hand coming up to find yours.
“Yeah, honey. You enjoy your night, and I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.” She nodded at your words and you leant down to press a kiss against her forehead. You waved at the others before slipping out of the doors that lead to the elevator.
As your finger pressed the metal button, you inhaled a long breath. What happens now? You know what room Steve is in, and he knows where you are. Do you text him? Do you go to your room? Do you just get into bed and forget about his lips on your skin?
You’re quickly pulled from your thoughts as the doors slide open and you make your way inside, hitting the button for your floor as you lean against the mirrored wall. Before you know it, the elevator dings and the doors are pulled open again.
You step into the hallway and follow the way to your room, your fingers fishing in your bag to find your room key. As you reach your door, you can see a familiar pair of sneakers attached to a familiar pair of jeans leaning against it. Your eyes follow the legs up and up, until you’re met face to face with Steve.
“Are you making sure I get home safe now, Harrington?” You smirk softly, pressing your key against the small machine attached to the handle until it buzzes green. You push it open, but don’t step inside, just look up at him.
“Just doing my job.” He shrugs casually, sinking his hands into his pockets as he presses off from the door and moves behind you as if he’s going to follow you into your room.
The two of you look at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to speak. You let out an exaggerated sigh as if you could read his mind, and push your door open and hold it open for him to walk through. He happily obliges, nodding his head at you as he does.
The door clicks shut behind you as you walk in, you hang your bag up on the hook that’s next to the door and slip off your heels, kicking them off so they land somewhere near the wardrobe.
“Do you want a drink?” You say softly as you pad further into the room where you see Steve in front of the window, holding the curtain open as he looks out. He turns to look at you over his shoulder and gives you a small nod.
He pushes off his own shoes, leaving them somewhere near the end of the bed before he sits himself on the edge of it. “What d’you have?”
You make your way over to the mini fridge that the hotel room supplied you with, crouching down onto your knees as you pull it open. “There’s a couple cans of beer in here,” You observe, a small hum following. Your fingers land on a small bottle of champagne that you assume had been left by the previous occupants. “Some bubbly?”
Steve lets out an approving laugh, nodding his head as he leans back on his hands. You stand up and press the fridge door shut with your foot, grabbing two mugs that sat on the desk above it next to the small coffee machine.
You avoid his eye contact as you cross the small distance of the hotel to sit next to him on the bed, handing him the mugs before you pull the wrapper off the top of the bottle and twist the neck open, and Steve hands the mugs out to you as you pour the bubbly liquid into each one.
He hands you your mug and takes the bottle off of you and places it on the floor next to him, he turns himself to you and lifts the mug up between the two of you. You let your eyes finally meet his, your breath catching in your throat slightly.
He shifts slightly, clearing his own throat before holding his mug up more confidently. “You know, I’ve dreamt of sitting here next to you, sharing a drink with you for the last six years. There’s not a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought about you, Blue,” His lips twitch slightly as he pauses, “Here’s to all of the birthdays, New Year’s, Christmases, Fourth of July’s that we missed out on.”
You let out a small laugh as you clink your mug against his and take a sip of your drink, the bubbles hitting your nostrils as you look up at him. You rest the mug on your lap as you look down at it, your eyes following the bubbles, “I spent a lot of that time thinking about you, too. I guess, I never properly apologised to you about me leaving.”
He was half way through his sip when he shook his head, his spare hand waving between you gently as he quickly spoke to interrupt you. “Hey, Blue. You don’t need to apologise, that’s all behind us now–”
“No, Steve,” You shake your head gently, taking in a small breath in an attempt to push down any tears that you can feel brimming at your eyes. “I do. I knew how you felt about me, and I kissed you because I felt the same way. I loved you for – God, I think I loved you before I even knew what love was.” You let out a small, broken laugh as you thought back to all the years the two of you wasted pushing your feelings backwards and forwards.
You took in a sharp breath as you continued, “I loved you for so long, I think after I kissed you, with everything that was going on with Sam, and leaving for college, I just needed to think. And I’m not making excuses for myself, but I think when you didn’t reply to the letter I wrote you, I just assumed that you hated me for leaving.”
Steve shuffled beside you gently, itching closer to you as he pressed his hand onto your arm, causing you to look up at him. “What letter?” His voice was so soft, and gentle that if you’d have dropped a pin at the same time it would’ve been louder.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your eyes met his, “What do you mean, what letter? The letter that I wrote you.”
“I never got any letters from you.” He said as he shook his head, a small, almost unbelieving laugh passing his lips.
“Are you serious? Steve, that morning that I left I wrote you a letter and posted it through your door.” Steve continuously shook his head as you spoke, pulling his hand away from your arm to push a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen across your cheek and rested in your hair gently.
He let out a soft breath before speaking, “Baby, I never got that letter. I never called you because you left with no explanation, I thought you’d regretted kissing me and never wanted to speak to me again.”
You shifted your body to face him properly now, taking in the look of regret across his face. Your lips parted to speak, but no words could come out. Everything that you wanted to say was lost in your brain, seemingly lost with that letter you’d written seven years ago.
Steve’s lips curved into a small smile as he pulled his hand through your hair and settled on the mattress behind you, leaning into you gently. Your posture straightened as you narrowed your eyes at him, your own voice gentle as you finally managed to speak.
“I met Mason and Emily for dinner the other night, and they told me that they’ve set a date for the wedding,” You beamed with a slight pride as you continued, “And they asked me to be a bridesmaid.”
“Wow. Well, congratulations. You’re gonna make a beautiful bridesmaid, Blue.” Steve spoke gently, lifting his mugs to his lips and took a small sip.
“I was thinking, actually,” You started, avoiding his eyes as you shifted gently before looking back up at him. “If you’d wanna come with me? Like, as my date.”
Steve’s eyes brightened at your words, his own slouched posture sitting up quickly as he sunk his teeth into his lower lip to contain his excitement. He cleared his throat gently before nodding as he spoke, “I’d like that, yeah. I’d love to, actually. When is it?”
The smile that was wide against your lips grew into a small smirk as you shifted your weight onto your spare hand, leaning into him slightly as your voice crept out not much louder than a whisper. “It’s in July, on the fourth. In Hawkins.”
Steve dropped his forehead to press against your shoulder as he let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head against you gently before lifting his head to look up at you. “You and me, at a wedding in Hawkins on the Fourth of July?”
You couldn’t help the giddy laugh that left your lips as your head rolled back, letting out a soft sigh before looking back down at him again. “I know, it’s almost like fate.”
He beamed at your words, shuffling himself to sit up straight and pointed toward you as he cleared his throat. “Actually, there was something I wanted to tell you, too.”
“Oh? Yeah, go for it.” You took a sip from your mug before settling it on your leg, the ceramic cooling the burn on beneath skin you’d been feeling since Steve’s lips were pressed against your neck outside.
“So, we haven’t announced anything yet but I wanted to tell you tonight,” He started, swigging the rest of the champagne from his mug and settling it next to the bottle on the floor before turning back toward you.
“On 9th June, we’re going on tour. An actual tour, we’re starting in New Mexico, then going to Phoenix, all over California, then Oregon and Washington.” His face had lit up like a Christmas tree as he dove into telling you all about their west coast tour, how they’d been having secret meetings with a label that they couldn’t tell anyone about. “It’s happening, Blue. It’s really, finally happening.”
“Steve,” You started, but found it hard to find the words to even begin to tell him how proud of him you were. You leant down and discarded your mug on the floor by your feet, scooting closer to him slightly, resting your hand gently on his leg. “That’s fucking incredible, I – I’m so proud of you.” Your hand lifted to push a few strands of his hair that curled over his eyebrow, trying to fight the smile across your lips.
“Well, that’s not all,” He lifted his hand to grab yours, lacing his fingers through yours. “I was wondering if you wanted to, you could take some time off of work and maybe come catch a few of the shows. You always wanted to travel, maybe you can come for a week. If you wanted to.”
You glanced down at his thumb that was tracing soft circles against your skin, then looked up to catch his eyes. Suddenly, you were transported back to the bench on your porch ten years ago when he first told you about his dream of being on stage.
The fingers that were laced through his pulled away as you lead them up to his neck, your fingernails grazing his skin as you nodded softly. You continued nodding as your grip on him tightened and pulled his head closer to yours, until your lips were finally pressed against his.
The kiss was soft, taking your upper lip between his as his fingertips slipped beneath the hem of your shirt just to hold you. He pulled his lips back from you, his eyes taking in every inch of you as your eyes were still pressed shut, waiting for him to come back to you.
You let out a gentle huff, lifting both of your hands to his chest and bunch up at his collar as your eyes opened to look up at him. His hand pulled you closer as he breathed into your mouth, your lips parted to take in as much of him as he’d allow you.
“Steve, please. I need you.” You whispered hoarsely, pushing your hands up so the tips of your fingers were touching the skin that peeked out from his collar. You watched the smirk grow against his lips, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he gently nodded.
He leant down to brush his lips against your neck, the same spot he’d prodded at earlier. His grip on your waist tightened as he slowly pushed you backwards onto the mattress, his steady body hovering over you as his voice hummed against your skin. “I got you, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want, what do you need?”
A soft moan fell past your lips as your head tipped against the mattress as he manoeuvred between your legs, his hand sliding from your waist down your body to hold your thigh as it automatically lifted to wrap around his back.
“You, Steve, please.” His breath was hot against your skin as his lips dragged from one side of your throat to the other, his hands dragging against your thighs before holding you at your waist. As his fingertips pushed beneath your shirt, he pressed his lips along your jaw, to your cheek and finally against your lips.
Your arms snaked around his neck as you pulled him closer to you, feeling the heat of his body pressed against you. His tongue ran against your lower lip, causing you to let out a heated sigh as your lips parted for him. The kiss grew heated as his tongue explored your mouth, making up for lost time as his teeth caught your lower lip between his.
His large hands caught the hem of your shirt at your waist as he slowly pushed the fabric up your body, he pulled his lips from yours to rest his forehead against yours as he held your shirt just beneath your breasts, his eyes feasted over your body for a moment before looking down into your eyes.
You managed a small nod, lifting your lips up to his jaw to press a few small kisses against the curve of his skin. He continued pulling your shirt to reveal your bra, you felt his breath hitch in his throat as your lips trailed across his neck. You pulled your lips away from him so he could discard your shirt, tossing it to the other side of the room absentmindedly.
“God, you’re so beautiful, Blue.” He held your gaze as he gently settled on the mattress next to you with your fingers still curled in his hair. His leg still wormed between yours as his fingers splayed against your skin beneath your bra, his head dropped to your chest and his wet lips dragged against the curve of your breast.
Your fingers curled around his hair as you held him against your skin, lifting yourself gently so his hand at your waist could snake around you to unclasp your bra. As he felt the garment give, he pulled away from you for a moment. He sat up slightly, his weight resting on his elbow beside you as his fingertips gently pulled each strap off of your shoulder.
It was like he was taking his time with what he was doing, really taking each second to remember the moment as you bared yourself for him. You watched his throat bob as you snaked your arms out of each of the straps, and slowly pulled it off of your body, tossing it to wherever your shirt ended up.
You looked up at him as his eyes trailed over your body, over every inch of you he hadn’t yet seen before but spent many, many nights thinking about. You lifted your hand to the back of his head again, your nails gently trailing through his hair as he leant down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his grip at your waist tightening as his lips trailed down your neck and across your chest until they wrapped around your nipple.
A soft sight left your lips as you held his head against you, his other hand sliding up your body to cup the breast that he wasn’t paying attention to. His tongue twirled around the stiffened peak as he sucked it, the godly moans that your lips were pouring out for him spurring on as he made his way across the valley of your chest to the other.
“You sound so good for me, baby.” He murmured against your skin, his hazel eyes looking up at you through his lashes as a small smirk grew against his lips before pulling away with a small pop.
Your hand trailed down his neck, tugging gently at the t-shirt that he was wearing. He pushed himself up and quickly pulled his shirt off with one hand and tossing it behind him, watching your eyes look over his body. He’d grown into himself since the last time you’d seen him shirtless, which would’ve been years ago when you would spend most of your time at his pool.
Dark hair covered the span of his chest, and trailed beautifully down into his boxers. Your fingers trailed across his chest gently, feeling the hair beneath your fingers before running down the beautiful curve of his stomach. You watched as he flinched at your touch, your eyes returning back up to his and before you could move another inch, his lips were back against yours with purpose.
The two of you were fighting for dominance as your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to you until the hair on his chest brushed against yours causing a hitch in your throat as it brushed your nipples. You felt him smirk into the kiss, his hands tightening at your waist before he pulled back slightly, watching as you inched forwards to chase his lips.
Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring down at your body, a small sigh passing your lips as your arms attempted to pull him closer to you. He pressed his lips against yours once gently, before mumbling against you softly. “I need you, Blue. I need to touch you, God, I need to taste you.” He pulled back a little farther to push some hair behind your ear, looking down into your eyes as he spoke. “Can I touch you, baby?”
You nodded quickly, the knot in your stomach tightening at his words. “Fuck, yes. Please touch me, Steve.” Your thighs pressed together in anticipation, watching as Steve slowly pulled himself away from you and travelled down your body.
He was slow at first, taking his time to press small, gentle kisses against your neck and your collarbone before finding your breasts again. His head pulled back slightly as he let a string of spit pass his lips and land on your nipple, causing a hitch in your breath at the wet sensation before his mouth wrapped around it again. He copied his actions on the other as his hand trailed to your hips, his fingertips digging into your flesh as his lips trailed down your sternum.
He kissed your belly button gently, causing a huffed laugh to leave your lips as your fingers pushed through his hair as you let yourself watch everything he was doing to you, taking in every sensation he left against your skin.
He pulled himself back gently as his eyes found yours again, wrapping his fingers around the hem of your skirt. You offered him another small nod, before he slowly pulled your skirt down, you lifted your hips off the mattress gently so he could pull it off of you.
Your knees pressed together subconsciously, and he leant down to press soft kisses against your knees and onto your thigh as they fell open for him. You watched as his eyes took in the sight before him, landing between your legs at the wet patch that had formed through your panties from his touch. As his lips inched closer and closer down your inner thigh, his hands wrapped around the backs of your legs to hold you open for him.
He settled on the mattress between your legs, making sure to keep his eyes connected with yours as he rounded a hand from your leg to slowly drag one of his fingers along your slit through your panties. A soft moan passed your lips at the first touch, your hips lifting to find more of his touch which caused him to press a kiss against your thigh.
A sigh passed your lips in anticipation as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your underwear, you watched as his eyes were fused to your pussy as he slowly dragged the fabric off of you and pulled them off of your legs.
He settled between you again, taking a moment to look at the way you glistened for him in the light of your hotel room. He took his index finger and ran it up your slit again, noticing the way you sighed in pleasure the second he touched you. His fingers spread you apart slowly, a moan leaving his own lips before he mumbled gently. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”
He watched how you twitched gently at his praise, unable to hide the smirk against his lips before he finally leant forward and ran his tongue through your folds slowly and teasingly. Your fingers were quick to push through his hair, your head falling back against the mattress as you swore under your breath.
“Fuck,” He mumbled against you, his tongue pooling at your entrance to taste as much of you as he could. “You taste so fucking good.” His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking at it gently as his hand manoeuvred between your legs, his middle finger pressing gently at your entrance.
“Fuck, Steve.” One of your hands left his hair to find your breast, palming your hand against it gently as you lifted your head to look down at him.
He hummed against you, eliciting another trail of moans past your lips, his tongue tracing your folds before slowly pulling away from you. Watching closely as he pushed his finger inside of you slowly, his eyes darting between your face contorting in pleasure and the sight of you swallowing his finger.
Your hand guided his head back to your pussy, and he was quick to find your clit again as he started sliding his finger in and out of you. His tongue trails lower as he pulls his finger out of you, his nose brushing your clit as he takes a few moments to savour the taste of you against his tongue. His actions turn sloppy, his lips practically making out with your pussy as his finger is quick to return to your entrance.
He pushes two inside of you, curling as they enter you causing another loud string of moans to fill the room as he moans against you. The pace of his fingers quicken as they curl inside of you, the hum against your clit causing you to tighten around his fingers.
Your other hand flies down to curl back through his hair, holding him in place as your hips buck against his face, chasing your high. “Baby, fuck. I’m gonna–”
Your words were interrupted by a loud bang on your door, your attention quick to follow the source of the noise. Steve paused momentarily, but was quick to resume his actions, desperate to bring you to your climax. After a moment, you let yourself relax into him again before you hear your name being called from the other side of the door.
“I know you’re in there,” You heard Haley call, her constant banging against the door now drowning out the sound of Steve’s fingers inside of you.
Your hands are quick to pull Steve off of you by his hair, looking up at you dumbfoundedly as his chin was shining in the light of the room, covered in your slick. He went to speak, but your finger came up to your lip to shush him as you pulled yourself away from him.
He got up from his position on the bed, wiping his hand on his jeans before he picked up his shirt and pulled it on quickly. Crossing the room to pick up your underwear and clothes that he’d discarded across the room, you shush him again and grab ahold of his arm, pushing him into the bathroom.
“Just, stay in here. Don’t make a sound, okay?” You pleaded at a whisper, your eyes looking up into his. He nodded gently, leaning down to steal a kiss from you before you pushed him further into the bathroom.
You call out to Haley that you’ll be one second, grabbing a robe that was supplied by the hotel in the wardrobe and pulling it over yourself before walking toward the door. You took in a sharp breath in an attempt to steady your breathing and your thoughts, before pulling the door open.
Haley looked a mess. Her makeup was smudged across her face, her features looked a mixture of sadness and anger as she shrugged passed you and invited herself into your hotel room.
“I’m sorry for just showing up but Chris and I just had a massive fight,” She huffed as she started pacing your room, dragging her hands over her face before turning to look at you. “He’s a fucking asshole, making up stupid fucking lies that make no sense. I– I don’t know what to do.”
You shook your head gently, holding onto her wrist as you guided her to your bed. You were hesitant to sit down considering what you and Steve were doing there just a few moments prior, but you were quick to sit and pull her down next to you. “Hey, hey. Don’t apologise, what happened, babe?”
She parted her lips to speak as she looked over at you, scoffing gently as she shook her head. Her hand lifted to wipe under her eyes, taking in a short breath before she spoke. “Well, we were down at the bar and obviously you’d gone up to bed. Then like, twenty minutes had gone by and Steve never came back from going for a cigarette.”
Your heart stopped short in your chest, putting the pieces together that he never told the others he was going to bed. You cleared your throat gently, nodding as you listened to her.
“So, I obviously asked where he was. He’d disappeared, left his drink there, his jacket. I thought maybe something had happened, so when I asked Chris he said that he was probably off with his girlfriend. And I was so confused, because I’ve been around them all every day and every night for weeks and I’d never heard anything about Steve’s girlfriend.” She was tumbling over her words now, all of the vodka cranberries that she’d had tonight catching up to her as she was trying to place the conversation.
“Obviously, I questioned it. I said, I’ve been with Steve every day and not even seen him talking to a girl. Then he said that Steve was up here, fucking you.” Her eyes narrowed at you as she finally looked up at you, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “He’s such a fucking dick. I said to him, how dare he speak about you like that? The way he said it, it was so–”
She cut herself off, her eyebrows furrowing gently as her eyes took in the reaction on your face. The way you usually would’ve been half way to Chris’s room to rip him a new one, the way you’d be saying that’s fucking crazy, you’d never even think about doing that with Steve.
You watched as her eyes trailed over your room, glancing behind her to the rumpled bed sheets, down at the two mugs on the floor that she’d knocked her foot into, and finally on Steve’s familiar sneakers sat next to the window. You heard her breath hitch in her throat before she finally looked over at you, tears welling in her eyes for a whole new reason.
“Oh my God,” She laughed cruelly, rising to her feet and shaking her head as she crossed the room back toward the door she’d just come through. “Oh my fucking God. How long has this been going on?”
“Haley, please. Just let me explain, okay? It’s not–” You started, pushing yourself up and following after her before she spun on her heels to face you.
“How long?” She reiterated, her arms folding over her chest as she looked at you with venom.
“I-I guess, maybe since March? But it’s not like that, honestly. Please, let me explain.”
She scoffed at your words, shaking her head. “Explain what? That you’re fucking Steve and I’m the last one to know? Do I literally mean nothing to you? I’m your best friend, how could you not tell me?” Her lower lip started quivering, and your own mirrored as you felt the tears pricking at your eyes.
You watched as she began piecing things together, her lips moving but nothing coming out before she narrowed her eyes at you again. “Earlier, before the show, I said to you I thought Chris was acting weird, like he was keeping a secret. And he was, and you knew about it.”
“It’s not like that, Haley. It’s a really long, complicated story.” You pleaded gently, taking a step closer to her as you tried to find the words to explain yourself.
“Yeah, and I’m apparently not important enough to know,” She scoffed, holding her hand up in front of her to stop you from continuing. “Actually, I don’t want to know. You are the one person in my life that I tell everything to, you’re my sister. If you were really who I thought you were then you wouldn’t have kept me out of the loop, telling everyone except for me. I– I’m gonna stay at Chris’ when we get back to the city, I can’t even look at you right now.”
You watched as she rolled her eyes and exited the room, slamming the door behind her. You stood there for a few moments until you heard the bathroom door click, you looked over your shoulder to see Steve standing there looking at you with a sad, heartbroken smile.
“I’m so sorry, Blue. This is all my fault, I–” He started, but you were quick to cross the room to him and snake your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face into his chest. When you felt the warmth of his arms around you, engulfing you in his embrace, you let the tears fall from your eyes and let the fabric of his shirt soak them up. His lips pressed into your hair as his hand rubbed at your lower back gently, holding you against him like he was never going to let you go again.
steve harrington x fem reader | best friends to strangers to lovers | slow burn... like 8 years slow burn | miscommunication | bestfriend!steve, neighbour!steve, rockstar!steve | set in 90s & 00s | eventual smut
summary: you and steve were joint at the hip since birth - he had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. your neighbour, your confidant, your person. until high school when you got a boyfriend, and distance was placed between you - steve realised his true feelings. after graduation, you didn’t speak for six years, until you see him on stage performing in a band with your roommates new boyfriend. except when you’re introduced, he acts as if he doesn’t know who you are. pretending that he doesn’t write all of his songs about you. that he followed his band to new york because he heard through the grapevine you might be living there.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
cw: 18+, cheating, smut, angst, p in v, 69, spanking, violence
a/n: we are at the end folks. thanks so much for reading :) one more chapter after this!!!!
“Olive!”
She’d recognize that voice anywhere. She ignores it. She hasn’t seen him in three fucking months…
“Olive!” the voice comes again. Along with a pebble at her window.
And when that’s ignored, a handful of pebbles hit her window. His voice says, “Olive, don’t be a fucking coward. I’m not fucking leaving!”
She jumps out of bed, runs to her window and opens it. Looking out, she sees Steve. He’s wearing a beanie, his facial hair is overgrown, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. He sees her, his face lights up. Her stomach turns.
“Let me in,” Steve calls up and it’s clear how angry he is. Cute. Very cute but angry.
“Are you crazy?” Olive yells down to him.
“Damn right,” Steve tells her, “you won’t let me in? I’ll just sit and press the buzzers until someone does.”
“Steve, no,” Olive scolds, “Just go home.”
Steve walks towards the door and Olive’s buzzer goes off, repeatedly. She buzzes him in because she really doesn’t want him waking her neighbors. She swings her door open, hearing Steve coming in the lobby and walking up the stairs. The closer he gets the more her stomach erupts in butterflies. God, she’s missed him. She’s missed him so much. And this scruff he has… patchy, sure, but god it looks sexy on him. She looks up at him as he walks past her into her apartment.
“Hi,” she chokes out, closing her door and leaning against it.
Fuck, he looks gorgeous, she thinks. As he whips around and says, “Hi? That’s what you have to say to me? Hi?!”
And yeah, Olive’s kind of speechless. His hair is shorter, like he cut it. Where it used to practically reach his shoulders, now the bit sticking out of his beanie looks about three inches shorter. He’s wearing his wire frame glasses, a black and white striped t-shirt that’s obviously well loved, it’s covered in holes. She just keeps staring at him.
“Well, I… I think you owe me, like a real explanation. That’s why I’m here,” he exhales, looking down at her. “Your pajamas are cute.”
“Thanks,” she looks down at her pink striped satin set and looks back up at him.
“Can you just tell me why?” Steve asks, “I can’t fucking take it anymore, Olive. I’ve been a fucking mess and it’s because the way you fucking did it. You didn’t explain shit to me and you ran off like a coward and that’s not fucking fair to me! You know, that’s not fair!”
Olive watches as Steve gets more heated, the way his eyes move and his cheeks flush as his lips move around his words, rising in volume. And there’s something sick about her, she knows that, but she likes when Steve raises his voice at her. Maybe she likes him standing up for himself.
“I did run off. If I didn’t, you would’ve talked me out of ending it,” she says, softly.
Steve laughs, that cruel one he does when he’s upset, “Do you even have a reason? Did you just want to hurt me? Were you fucking bored of me?”
Olive crosses her arms, part of her wants to make Steve leave but a bigger part of her can’t let him leave. That part wants to jump on him, tell him she takes it back and she needs him. She’s stubborn, though.
“Yeah. You hurt me, so I hurt you,” she says, finally admitting that this was because he slept with someone else.
Steve rubs his hand against his mouth and chin and Olive can’t help but take note of how big his hands are. It’s one of her favorite things about him physically. He shakes his head before he speaks again, “Biggest mistake of my fucking life.”
“Yeah,” Olive mumbles, “I told you that you could, but I didn’t really want you to.”
“I shouldn’t have, even if you said it was okay. I wish I didn’t,” he whispers back, “but I guess part of me… felt like I was getting back at you. Because I’m your second choice, I’m the—“
“Are you joking? Second choice, Steve, you were—,” she swallows because that’s not true and she knows it.
“I was what?” Steve says, “I was a secret. Kind of a horribly kept secret but a secret.”
Olive can’t say anything, she just shakes her head as her stomach turns.
“So like one time, I fucked up yes, but like you’ve been with someone else this whole time and I never gave you an ultimatum or anything. I’m like a fucking obedient dog for you, Olive. I just do whatever the fuck you want, I put up with being treated like shit just to be with you,” Steve laments, “That’s not fair. Do you think that’s what I deserve? That’s how much I mean to you?”
She has tears welling in her eyes, she can’t look at Steve because it just makes it all worse. She just stares at his shoes. It’s not true, she thinks Steve deserves better. That’s part of why she did this. But then having him right here in front of her, she’s completely regretting breaking up with him. She wants to touch him, but she’s scared he’ll push her away.
“You can’t even look at me,” Steve exhales, “Do you feel bad? Is that why you can’t look at me?”
Olive shakes her head, “Of course I feel bad.”
“You should,” he says, “you should feel bad. You told me you loved me. And I fucking believed it, maybe because I’m an idiot.”
She can’t say anything, she just stares down at his feet. She thinks about the state he’s been in, what Amelia has told her. But he seems to be clean. Then again, he’s wearing a beanie. The point is, she knows she broke him. And she feels awful. Because she does love him.
“I do,” she whispers softly.
Steve steps closer, puts his fingers under her chin and pulls her face up to look at him. “Look at me, then,” he whispers.
Their eyes meet and Olive feels herself melt. His eyes are glassy, they’re both on the verge of tears and Olive’s first instinct is to pull away, run from this intensity. But she holds still, eyes scanning over his face. His mustache is thicker than she’s seen before. And the rest of his facial hair is grown out, it’s patchy. Olive reaches up and grazes her fingers against it. A small smile plays on her lips, Steve mirrors it.
“Still feel bad?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she whispers, strokes his face gently, “I like all this hair, though.”
“Glad to know me neglecting self care is attractive to you,” he replies with a raised brow.
Olive sighs, “No, no, I— Amelia told me how you’ve been and I, I’m sorry…”
“Yeah, huge pity party over at my place. But hey, I showered for you,” he says, with a smile. “Couldn’t be bothered to shave.”
Steve puts his hands on her hips, Olive loves how it feels. The familiarity of his hands on her. She wants to kiss him so bad. It doesn’t matter that she broke up with him. She doesn’t care about it right now. She missed him. She missed his touch. Steve pulls her into him, so their hips touch. And then they’re both leaning in.
When their lips touch, Olive swears there’s fireworks and she feels like a fucking idiot for not listening to those natural tells. She feels incredible when Steve’s around. He never makes her feel insecure or bored. His arms wrap around her waist as he pulls her closer. Olive’s hands push his beanie off his head and her fingers card through his hair. It’s so much shorter, and she mumbles against his lips, “You cut your hair.”
Steve laughs into her mouth and fuck, did she miss that sound. He mumbles back, “Had to. It was bad.”
Olive kisses him again, keeps feeling through his hair as she licks against his lower lip. Steve licks her back and it ignites something in her, feeling true actual arousal for the first time in weeks. Steve’s hands move down to her ass, squeezing momentarily before he’s lifting her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and keeps playing with his hair as he carries her to her bedroom. Lays her back on her mattress and crawls onto her, between her legs. She grabs his shirt and pulls him close, connecting their lips again. Steve moans against her lips, grinding down against her and Olive giggles because she can feel his erection in his jeans. And she’s so flattered that he gets that turned on just by kissing her.
She drags her hands down his back, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head. Steve starts unbuttoning Olive’s top, kissing her tenderly. His hands find Olive’s breasts, squeezing her gently. Olive whines, “Steve…”
He smiles, pulling back and looking down at her. Then Olive realizes how he’s cut his hair and she giggles, “You have bangs.”
Steve raises his brows, still smiling as he moves his thumbs against Olive’s nipples. “Is that what it’s called?”
She nods, smiling at him, “I guess it’s like a mod cut. It’s cute. I like it a lot. You look good.”
“Thanks,” he says, leans down and kisses her neck. Olive moans, hand moving to the back of his neck as she tilts her head, exposing her neck more for him. She feels so needy, so desperate for Steve. He sucks against her skin, surely marking her up and before, Olive would’ve stopped him. She doesn’t care, those seven weeks away were brutal and she can’t be without Steve ever again.
So Olive lets Steve cover her neck in bruises, writhes up against him as he does it. She revels in the sounds he makes against her skin whenever his strained cock manages to catch on Olive’s clothed pussy. He goes lower, kissing across her clavicle and leaving marks there. Then her breasts. He spends his sweet time but Olive is getting eager and she wants to look at his face again, so she tugs him back by his hair and Steve sits up.
“Sorry,” he chokes out when he looks down at her bruised skin. “Kinda went a little overboard with that, huh?”
Olive sits up too, reaching for Steve’s pants and starts unbuttoning them. He helps her get them down, leaving him in his briefs and she says, “I don’t care, but I’m gonna have to give you some to make it fair.”
He grins, so wide and so pretty. With his briefs tented. And Olive missed his cock. There’s nothing like it, she thinks. She reaches for it, purely because she can’t help herself. Steve huffs, that gorgeous grin still on his face. So Olive just says it, “Missed him.”
“Are you referring to my penis?” Steve asks with a giggle.
“I am,” she nods, and Steve purses his lips then.
“Have you been thinking about it?”
Olive flushes, because of course she has been. She nods slowly, “And other things too. Like the way you smell when you’re asleep, and the way you hum and whistle while you cook, and how you take care of me when I’m sick.”
Steve leans close to kiss Olive, full of passion and love. Like he’s been waiting to hear her say those words. Like he needs to be told she missed him. And she really, really did. Life went back to boring and mundane without him. She’d forgotten what it felt like to wake up unhappy. To feel like everything she did was dull and pointless.
His hands find the elastic of her satin shorts and he pulls them down. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and she can feel Steve smile against her when he notices. Olive giggles and goes for his briefs, tugging them down. Gets her hand wrapped around his cock and she sighs, a happy relieved sigh and it makes Steve laugh.
“I told you I missed him,” she says.
He reaches between her legs and tells her, “I missed her too.”
Olive gasps, feeling his big hand cup her pussy and says, “Fuck, she missed you.”
Steve’s middle finger slips inside Olive’s core, she inhales sharply and squeezes the base of Steve’s cock. His hips stutter and she strokes him slowly, as he fingers her. Their eyes meet, the pair of them breathing heavily as they work each other over. Olive’s heart pounds, she’s gazing at his pretty face and she’s never felt more stupid in her whole life. She can’t believe she almost let him go. She swears she’s never going to do it again. This is the man for her, she’s letting herself realize and accept that. She deserves someone like Steve, she deserves Steve and she swears she’s going to be better for him. She’s going to let him in, she’s going to give him everything.
Then Steve moves, scoots down the bed like he’s going to eat Olive out. And that’s all fine and dandy but…
“Wait… I want you, I want to suck your cock,” she says and Steve smiles at her.
He wiggles his brows, “69?”
And Olive laughs, nods enthusiastically and lays back down. Steve moves over her. This is a nice view she thinks, looking right up at Steve’s dick and balls. An excited giggle bubbles up from her chest, her hand wrapping around his cock. She strokes him as she tilts her head up and licks against his balls. Steve moans softly, Olive feels his breath fan against her swollen lips. Then she feels his tongue, she cries out. She missed this, he’s so incredibly talented. She remembers that she doesn’t even ask Pilot to eat her out because he’s so bad at it.
But Steve’s so good. He works hard at it, teasing through her folds, focusing on her clit for just a beat before moving back down. Then, he sucks against each of her lips before gliding his tongue down to dip into her core. Olive moans out, so lost in the pleasure that she’s completely forgotten about pleasuring Steve. Though he doesn’t seem to mind. He licks against her hole, moaning like he’s deriving pleasure from it. Then his cock sways from his movements, right in front of Olive’s face and she’s reminded.
She wraps her lips around his tip and sucks, then circles her tongue around it. Her legs spread a little wider, Steve’s hips jerk forward just a tiny bit but it pushes his balls against Olive’s face. She giggles softly, but Steve’s thrusting again, sinking into her mouth another inch. So she sucks harder, takes him as deep as she can. And he’s just as enthusiastic, works back up to her clit and wraps his lips around it. Sucks and licks until Olive can barely breathe. She’s moaning around him, trying to focus on giving him an incredible blow job that he absolutely deserves. But he’s too good at eating her out, she gets distracted.
And Steve can tell, he reaches down to hold his cock as he pulls it out of her mouth. Then he sits on the bed and softly laughs, “It’s fun in theory, but ya know…”
“It’s your fault,” Olive turns to him. “You’re so good, I forget what I’m doing.”
He shakes his head, lays next to her and puts his hand on her hip. He nudges his nose against hers and kisses her soft and slow. She puts her hand on his jaw as she kisses back, matching his pace though she wants more. Steve’s unlike anyone. He really takes his time, offers more than enough foreplay, but more than anything… he’s never in a rush. Even when they should be. Their bodies inch closer, his erection grazing against her navel as they make out. But there’s no urgency. He moans softly, could be from the stimulation on his cock but Olive thinks it’s just from the kiss.
And she’s certain she’s more eager than he is. She tries to tell him as much, sucking on his tongue, making the kiss a little sloppier, grinding against him. Steve takes the hint, smiling as he reaches down and pulls Olive’s leg over his middle before moving his hand to guide his cock to her entrance.
Then she stops him, “Wait—“ she swallows because she’s not trying to ruin the mood, she just has concerns. “With Willow, did you….?”
Steve sighs softly, not like he’s upset with Olive and more like he’s upset with himself but he assures her, “I used protection. Hell, Olive, you’re the only person I haven’t used it with.”
And well, “Me too.” It’s the truth. She makes Pilot wear condoms.
“Can I? Or we can use one, I.. I don’t have one on me but—“
“No, it’s good. I just had to ask,” she whispers, hand on his cheek.
Steve nods then, dipping back down to kiss her as he slips his cock inside. She gasps, against his lips as the sensation of him stretching her out fills her with ecstasy. She can’t believe she almost gave this up. She grips onto his shoulder as he sinks in deeper and deeper.
“Steve!” she moans, “Oh.”
He nuzzles against her face, rolling his hips as she mewls and whines. His hand wraps around her thigh, squeezing the flesh as he pumps into her. Slowly dragging against her walls and Olive is on an entirely different plane of existence. Mouth agape, drawn out moans and cries falling free.
The tip of his cock rubs against that sensitive spot deep inside, in such a way that has her close to crying. This reconnection is what she’d been longing for, even if she wouldn’t admit it. And Steve mumbling repeatedly how much he loves and missed her against her cheek isn’t helping.
His voice is so soft, a little raspy and so incredibly needy, “I love you so fucking much… I missed you so bad. Was making me fucking sick, baby. I need you, I need you, I love you, I love you…”
She squeezes his shoulder as she whines back, “Missed… oh, fuck, missed you, too… love you, too… Stevie, oh, God.”
“Not fucking letting you go again,” he groans, his hand moving to her hip and squeezing rough. Like he’s got to keep her here.
And well, he never did. She’s the one who let him go. Pushed him out, actually. But she’s absolutely certain she’s never doing that again. So she kisses him, sloppy and messy. Lips not exactly meeting, kisses on his cheek and his chin. Tongue darting out to taste his sweaty skin. Tastes herself on it, too.
His thrusts get a little rougher then, deeper. Until the position they’re in gets a little too awkward, so he’s pushing her onto her back and moving between her legs. And like this, he’s only that much deeper and Olive’s head tilts back as she gasps out. Her hands find his back, scratching down it as he pounds into her. Then she looks at him, their eyes meet and Olive absolutely fucking melts. The adoration, the lust, the desperation in his hazel eyes makes that knot in her stomach tighten. She’s on the verge of an orgasm, while also being on the verge of tears. And she can’t imagine sharing this kind of experience or emotion with anyone other than Steve. He’s made from her. Olive never quite believed in soulmates. But Steve has Olive believing in the world.
It creeps up quickly, the rubber band snapping as her orgasm rushes through her. Mouth hanging open as she gasps, eyes trained on Steve’s gorgeous face as she cums. He looks so focused yet so in awe as he watches. His face is flushed. He gives her a moment to come down before he grabs her hands, pins them above her head and crashes his lips into her. His hips quicken, the force of his thrusts increasing as he moans against her lips. They still as he reaches his peak, before offering two more involuntary thrusts.
The pair of them stay like that for a moment, catching their breath, staring into each other's eyes. Before it gets too uncomfortable and Steve’s pulling off. He offers a quick smooch before he’s off the bed and retrieves a wet towel.
Steve lays back on the bed after he’s cleaned them up and he turns to her, takes a deep shaky breath and says, “Okay, we gotta really talk about that.”
“About how good that was?” Olive asks with a lifted brow, giggling softly.
He shakes his head, looks visibly nervous so Olive sits up and turns to him. Her stomach drops with the idea that he might be regretting all of that. She rubs her lips together, patiently waiting for him to talk again. But he doesn’t. Looks like he keeps mulling over what he’s gonna say in his head so Olive has to speak first.
“What do you want to say?” she asks in a quiet, shaking voice.
Steve looks a little bit like he might cry when he finally opens his mouth, “I have to give you that ultimatum. I probably should have a long time ago. But, fuck, Olive. I’m not doing that again with you. It’s me or him. And that was really fun and amazing and I feel so deeply connected to you when we have sex but… I can’t do it again unless you break up with Pilot and commit to me.”
And she saw this coming. The idea of breaking up with Pilot is deeply terrifying for some reason, yet the thought of losing Steve again is much more daunting. So she nods, looks at him earnestly.
She must be silent for too long because Steve sighs, “Alright, well… I’m not gonna stay any longer if–”
“Wait, Steve. I’ll do it. I’ll break up with Pilot,” she tells him, hand moving to his arm as he tries to get up. “I can’t spend that long without you again.”
“This time would be longer if you don’t pick me, Olive. Like, forever,” Steve tells her.
“I know,” Olive whispers, “I want you.”
Steve holds her hand, intertwines their fingers, “If it helps, I’ll be a much better boyfriend.”
Olive giggles then, squeezing his hand as she tells him, “I know you will be. You’re not gonna keep me a prisoner in this city.”
“As long as you come back home to me sometime.”
“Or you could… come with me,” Olive offers with a purse of her lips.
Steve grins, “If that’s a possibility. I’d follow you anywhere.”
Then he grabs her phone and hands it to her, “Better go ahead and text him that it’s over.”
“Steve! I can’t do that!” Olive exclaims.
His face falls, then turns pensive as he sits up and tilts his head, “I thought we literally just had this conversation about you picking me?”
“We did,” she insists, “but I can’t dump him over text. I have to do it in person. We’ve been together for way too long to break up over a text.”
“So, when are you gonna do it, then? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and you changed your mind,” his voice is so stern and it’s kind of turning her on. She pushes him on his back, straddling his waist and lacing their fingers together. Can’t help but grind a little bit on him.
“Promise I’ll do it tomorrow,” she tells him before leaning down and connecting their lips.
Steve can’t argue, his arms wrap around her middle and pulls her closer. He opens his mouth, like he wants her tongue. So she gives it to him, licks into his mouth as she pushes her fingers through his hair. And like magic, she feels his cock start to fill out against her thigh. She wonders why she let him go, because Steve can always keep going.
But he pulls back from the kiss and says, “I mean it, Olive. If you change your mind tomorrow, I’m done. I really can’t do it anymore. And who knows, I might tell him myself—“
“Steve! I said I will. I really will. I promise,” she says, furrowing her eyebrows. “I don’t think you should tell him. That would be bad.”
“Well, I will,” Steve threatens, “If you don’t, I will tell him myself.”
Olive shakes her head, then rolls her eyes, “You wanna start a whole bunch of drama, don’t you?”
“If I don’t get what I want,” he replies with a playful shrug.
“Oh, wow, you’re such a brat, Steve. I might have to fuck it out of you,” Olive says, seductively.
Steve’s expression changes. He swallows hard, his cock twitches against her ass. His hands move to his sides as he looks up at her. “I’m going to be an even bigger brat if you change your mind tomorrow.”
“Well, if you’re gonna be such a brat, maybe you need a spanking,” Olive counters.
And Steve scoffs, a laugh falls from his lips as he sits up, holding onto Olive’s hips, “I think actually, if any of us need a spanking, it’s you.”
Olive’s never been more excited in her entire life. She deserves it for sure, but is it really a punishment if she’s going to be enjoying it so much? She pouts, tilts her head and says, “You think I need a spanking?”
Steve nods, “After all that shit you put me through, yeah, absolutely.”
“Well… if you say so…” she says and moves off of him. She stands and looks at him expectantly. He loves to sit on the edge of her bed, looks up at Olive with his brows raised.
“Bend over my lap,” Steve tells her. The tone of his voice is incredibly arousing, calm yet domineering. Something she hasn’t exactly heard from him. And she thinks how quickly they can make that switch, how she trusts that he won’t push it further than she wants and that it won’t change how they feel about each other has Olive certain of one thing, this is the man she was meant to be with. Forever.
She easily obeys, bending over his lap. She glances back at him, seeing how his eyes skate over her back and behind. His hand is gentle, rubs against her ass carefully. And the anticipation is killing her. Olive inhales sharply and holds it, eyes dropping to her hardwood floor as she waits. Steve takes his time here too. Fingers tapping along the flesh as he moves his hand, edging close to her soaking entrance. He teases with a ghosting touch, has Olive clenching her fists and curling her toes because she’s not sure what his next move is. Then he tsks, and her head turns to look up at him.
“Dripping wet… just at the thought of me spanking you…” he sucks against his teeth before continuing, “That’s pretty naughty, Olive.”
“Can’t help it,” she gasps out. His eyes meet hers momentarily.
“Head down,” he instructs and she listens.
Fuck, she loves him. He’ll give her everything she’s ever wanted. Even if she doesn’t think she deserves it.
His fingers move up, light touches against her cheek. And then a particularly sharp smack. The sound of it reverberates through her room. A yelp falls from Olive and Steve’s hand soothes over the sore, hot skin. Between her legs is uncomfortably wet, dripping down her thighs as Steve delivers another harsh slap. Another yelp and this time as Steve rubs the skin, he asks, “You okay?”
And maybe it breaks the illusion but she’s thrilled he’s concerned. He’s just so attentive. She mumbles a sound of agreement. Wiggles her ass for him to continue. Instead of spanking, his hand dips between her legs and he laughs, deep and soft.
“Yeah, you’re definitely okay.”
Another slap. And another. Surely enough to make her pale skin bright red. Steve makes sure to soothe her skin each time. Then, he moves his hand up her spine. Slides his fingers into the hair at the back of her scalp and pulls her up. Pulls her into his lap and kisses her intensely. She whines into it, falling with him as he lays on his back. Straddling him, she grabs his jaw and kisses him back with fervor.
His hands are still in her hair, tugging as he writhes against her.
“I love you,” she babbles out, “I love you so much.”
“We really need to have a talk about why that shit turns you on so much,” he laughs and Olive pulls back to raise her brow.
“Like that didn’t turn you on?”
He rolls his eyes and tells her, “I’ll do whatever you want me to. Even if it’s to be mean to you.”
“It’s not about being mean,” Olive admits, “It’s about trust.”
That seems to intrigue him, his brow lifting, “That turns you on because you trust me?”
She nods, “I trust that you’ll take care of me. You’ll never push it too far. You’ll listen.”
“Huh,” he says, seeming like he’s realizing something. “You really do love me.”
“I’m sorry I made you question it,” Olive tells him sincerely.
He moves his hand up, caressing her face and smiles somberly, “I always knew deep down. Think I knew it before you did.”
“I’m scared, a lot of the time… you scared me because I didn’t… I couldn’t like, control it. I was falling and I didn’t have a say. I was—“ Olive stops because she feels the urge to cry crawling up her throat.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay… you’re worth all the effort I have to put in. So if you fucking, if you go back on all this tomorrow, like that’s it… I can’t… I need you to be mine completely, or I can’t have you. For my own good, ya know?” Steve tells her.
“You’ve been talking with Robin about this a lot, huh?” Olive teases.
Steve rolls his eyes, “If I was listening to her, I wouldn’t even be here. I had a lot of time to think. And I was thinking that… if we happened to not be able to control ourselves, I deserve one last time but if you couldn’t commit to me fully, I don’t deserve to be dragged around. I’m not gonna spend my life being a secret, or second best to some fucking asshole who doesn’t appreciate the woman I love.”
Olive puts her hand on his cheek, tells him earnestly, “You’re the right one for me, Steve. And I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like that wasn’t true—“
“Oh, I knew that,” Steve snorts, “Been waiting for you to realize.”
“And I have,” she smiles. “I promise you, I’m not going to lose you again. I’m going to end things with Pilot and I’m going to commit to you one hundred percent. So much that Robin’s gonna have to find a roommate.”
He smiles at that, big and goofy. “You want me to move in?”
“What? Like you’re not gonna spend every night here?” Olive giggles. “You only ever left my place because I made you. And I only did that because you weren’t my boyfriend. If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you might as well move in.”
Steve kisses her, smiling as he does. His arms circle her waist. And his erection comes springing back to life, present against her ass. And Olive thinks, what better time than now. She reaches behind her, grabbing his cock as she lifts herself up so she can guide it inside her easily. They moan in unison as she sits, sheathing him inside to the hilt.
Slowly, she begins grinding down on Steve. His eyes focus on Olive and she swears she sees hearts in them. She puts her hands on his hairy chest, using the leverage to speed up her movements. Steve’s hands hold onto Olive’s hips, squeezing her as he moans out shakily. And she loves how whiny Steve gets whenever she rides him, it makes her feel sexy and powerful. In general that’s how Steve makes her feel.
Gazing down at him like this, she really gets to appreciate his new haircut. It’s all messed up from her fingers being in it but she really likes how his hair falls on his forehead. And god, the way he’s looking up at her with those big eyes. Olive reaches for his hands, brings them up to her chest and Steve cups her breasts in his hands. Squeezes softly. Grazes his thumbs against her nipples. Olive’s mouth hangs open, she arches her back as she picks up the pace.
Then Steve blurts out suddenly, “I’m gonna fucking marry you.”
And Olive laughs, “I was just thinking that.”
He grins, “You were?”
“Amongst other things,” she giggles, motioning down to where their bodies meet.
Steve licks his lips as he watches, Olive rising up and sinking down, “Why do you think I’m gonna marry you?”
“Just for the sex?” Olive gasps dramatically.
He rolls his eyes, “Yep.”
She grins, leaning down and kissing Steve. Purely to get them to shut up. His hands smooth up Olive’s back, into her hair and he tugs as their tongues meet. They work in tandem for a beat before Steve’s flipping them over. On her back, Olive rises her hands above her head and moans. Steve nuzzles his face against her neck, kissing along the bruises he’s left.
“You feel so fucking good,” he mumbles.
“Stevie…” she moans out, spreading her legs wide for him. His fingers run along the undersides of her thighs and the sensation makes Olive gasp. She grabs the sheets, her back arching. Steve licks against her neck, then sucks.
Steve’s pumps get a little quicker and deeper, her eyes roll back as the tip of Steve’s cock hits against her g-spot. Steve squeezes her thighs, pushing them up. Every thrust he presses into her just right. She grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss, but it’s sloppy, uncoordinated. It’s heady, Olive can’t help but giggle and Steve mirrors it.
“You like that?” he asks, smile in his voice.
“Yeah,” Olive moans, “feels so good, Steve… just like that, fuck me… you’re so big, fuck!”
His eyes rolls back at that, “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”
And Olive laughs, smugly. “I love watching you fall apart for me,” she tells him as she wraps her arms around his neck, giggling.
“I’m fucking obsessed with you,” he mumbles, kissing her softly.
“I want you to cum for me, Stevie. Can you do that? Need you to fill me up,” Olive begs, holding the back of his neck.
“Only if you cum with me,” he chokes out, then licks his fingers before reaching his hand between them and rubbing circles against Olive’s clit. Steve has a gift, truly. Olive’s in awe, he knows exactly how to touch her and she can’t believe she ever let this go. She’s the luckiest woman in the world.
She gasps and moans, nodding at him before pleading, “Fuck me harder.”
Steve thrusts harder, working his fingers quick and experienced. He kisses Olive as his orgasm hits him, Olive following suit. They cling to one another, moaning as they ride the waves together. Steve kisses her, “I love you.”
“I love you, Stevie.”
—
The sun peeks in through the curtains, waking Olive slowly. She rolls over, stretching as she looks over to Steve’s side of the bed and finds it empty. She panics momentarily, heart sinking to her stomach. Until she hears Steve’s voice in the kitchen, singing along to music playing from the TV. She slides out of bed, slipping into a nightgown before walking into the kitchen. Steve’s in his briefs, bouncing around and wiggling his hips with a spatula in his hand and the smell of bacon in the air.
Her heart beats a little faster as her lips spread up into a smile. She watches him in awe, before he notices her standing there. Steve flips an egg, swaying his hips from side to side. Olive giggles and Steve’s head snaps back, a wide open mouthed smile on his face.
“You’re finally up!” he cheers, “Let me make you some coffee.”
Steve moves towards the coffee pot and Olive goes to get water from the fridge. She watches him make her coffee exactly how she likes as she takes her morning pills. Then Steve hands her the coffee, kissing her lips softly before then handing over her pack of cigarettes. He returns to cooking and Olive sits at the island counter, lighting up a cigarette and watching him cook. Bacon, eggs, home fries and sourdough toast. He spreads avocado on the toast, then plates Olive’s breakfast.
They sit and eat, Olive moans at the first bite. Thinks she could get used to Steve living here. Though, she’s going to have to invest in a gym membership. She doesn’t usually eat breakfast, but she’s feeling rather hungry after all the cardio they did last night.
“How’d you sleep?” Steve asks, piercing a potato with his fork.
Olive smiles, remembering how cozy she felt with Steve spooning her all night. It was perfect. “Really good. How about you?”
“Best sleep of my whole life,” Steve says with a smile. “So I was thinking, I could like, go home and pack some stuff while you meet with Pilot. And maybe we can go out tonight? Like celebrate. Give me the chance to really show you off.”
Olive raises her brows, flush settling over her cheeks but fear twirling in her stomach. Breaking up with Pilot. That’s going to be hard to do. Pilot can get quite the temper and he’s going to want answers. So Olive is going to have to be honest.
“You’re scared,” Steve notices, reaching over and putting his hand on Olive’s. “But you haven’t changed your mind, right?”
“Of course not,” she says, “I’m going to do it today. I promise.”
“Are you gonna do it in public?” Steve teases, smirking.
She rolls her eyes but that was her plan, “He can get pretty explosive.”
Steve hums, watching as Olive reaches for the Tabasco to put on her eggs, then he snatches it from her and does the same to his, “Maybe I should come with.”
“Oh, god, no. That would make it ten times worse,” Olive tells him.
Steve shrugs, “He did like me, ya know. Maybe he’ll be stoked for us.”
“I think the seven months of us fucking behind his back will put a damper on his fondness of you,” Olive winces.
“You’re gonna tell him that?” Steve raises his brows, looking shocked.
She nods, “He’s gonna expect an explanation. I might as well tell him the truth.”
Steve purses his lips, like he’s thinking over it. He sighs and tells her, “I guess that’s fair.”
They finish their breakfast and work on the dishes together. It all feels very domestic, even if there is a tension in the air. They work well together, Olive scrubbing at the dishes while Steve dries and puts them away.
After, Steve lifts Olive up and places her on the counter. He slips his fingers into her hair, leaning close and tilting her head up towards him. Olive’s heart beats a little faster, she feels her stomach drop as Steve nudges his nose against hers. And she thinks, she’s so deeply in love. Steve’s going to make her feel this way forever. The butterflies will never dull. She’s sure they could be married for fifty years and Steve’ll still be making her feel like this.
“I love you,” he whispers.
Olive smiles, her hands moving to grab Steve’s hands and she intertwines their fingers.
“I love you too, Stevie.”
Their lips meet and they melt into it. Olive tilts her head, Steve kisses her top lip. His hands find her waist, he squeezes as they kiss. It quickly becomes heated, as it usually does with them. There’s this electric deep energy between them, a chemistry that just can’t be ignored. Olive feels like she cannot help herself around him. Her hands move into his hair.
“Can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing her.
Olive giggles, hugging back and says to him, “Finally, eh?”
“Girl of my dreams,” Steve mumbles against her lips, continuing the kiss and Olive feels like she’s floating.
She reaches into his briefs, licks into his mouth as she wraps her legs around Steve’s waist. He pulls the straps of her nightgown down her arms and the slip drops down to expose her breasts. Olive moans into his mouth as his hands touch her breasts. She squeezes his cock, begins to slowly stroke him and Steve whines. His hips jerk forward and he gasps.
“Love how easy you are for me,” she tells him between kisses.
To which Steve replies, “It’s totally your fault.”
Then he’s licking into her mouth while he fondles her tits. Olive begins stroking him a little faster. Then she hears the door opening and before she can pull away, she hears Pilot’s voice.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
They turn to him, Olive pulls her hand out of Steve’s underwear and starts to pull her nightgown back up. But Pilot’s stalking over, his footsteps load on the hardwood floor. Steve takes a step back, lifts his hands up but Pilot’s winding back his fist.
“Pilot, no! Don’t—“
Olive’s plea is interrupted by the sound of Pilot’s fist cracking into Steve’s face. She jumps off the counter as Steve makes a pained sound and stumbles back. Pilot winds back again but Olive’s grabbing his arm. He turns to her then, “The fucking Dogwalker? I can’t fucking believe you.”
He looks at Steve then, shakes his head and turns to leave.
“I should’ve fucking believed Ezra,” he says on his way out.
Olive’s reaching for her robe, slipping it on and a pair of heels. She runs to the door to follow Pilot, but before she leaves, she turns to Steve.
“Don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”
Steve stands, holding his hand over where he was just socked in the face. He lifts the other to wave and Olive runs out. Chases Pilot down the street before she catches up to him.
“Pilot, wait! Let me explain!”
He whips around, “Explain what? That you’ve been fucking this guy you apparently hate behind my back?”
“I know… I shouldn’t have— I—“ Olive swallows. She hadn’t even had time to think about what she was going to say. How she was going to explain this.
“How long?” Pilot asks her then.
Olive chews on her lip, looks at the sidewalk and then up at Pilot. “I’m sorry.”
“How long, Olive?”
“Seven months. Pretty much… immediately,” she admits.
“Wow,” Pilot scoffs.
Olive sighs, “I… I broke it off, that’s why he kinda disappeared for three months and well… last night he showed up and I…” she swallows hard, feeling like her breakfast might come back up, “I’m really sorry, Pilot. I shouldn’t have let it go on that long.”
“Well, fuck, Olive… I can’t believe you’d do something like this. It’s gonna take a while to forgive you… we’ll work through it but, it’s gonna be work,” Pilot says, “As long as it was just ya know, sex. I know we’ve been pretty stale in that department but—“
“Oh, no… I… Pilot,” she sighs, looks back at him and confesses, “I’m in love with him. Like, really, really in love with him.”
Pilot rubs his hand over his face. Scoffs again and says, “So what? That’s it? It’s over?”
Olive nods softly. Looks over her shoulder, she’s half expecting Steve to come.
“Why didn’t you just break up with me ten months ago?” Pilot asks.
“I should’ve,” Olive admits, "But, I was terrified… I was in denial. I didn’t realize how deep it had gotten with him… and when I did I broke it off but…”
“But you’re jerking him off in your kitchen this morning, so clearly it didn't stick,” he mumbles. “Ezra told me… and I trusted you and fuck, I had this whole talk with Steve and he fucking lied to me… right to my face.”
“You punched him. He got punished enough. He was only trying to protect me,” she mumbled. “Don’t hate him. Hate me.”
“I hate you both,” Pilot grins, “I’ll pack up all your shit and bring it over soon. Bye.”
He turns and keeps walking. Olive feels like crying. She turns and walks back to her apartment. Inside, Steve’s sitting on her couch holding a bag of frozen peas to his face. Olive kicks out of her shoes and rushes over to him, she sits and grabs the peas.
“Let me see…” she mumbles.
He lets her pull it off his face, showing her his swollen eyelids and the beginning of bruising. It’s gonna be a pretty gnarly black eye.
“Aw… baby…” she puts the peas back over it. “I’m so sorry…”
Steve shrugs, “Guess I deserve it. Feel bad that’s how he found out.”
“Shocked it didn’t happen sooner, honestly,” Olive whispers, “I mean… the tent.”
He laughs, pulling Olive into his lap. “I should’ve been punched forever ago.”
Olive kisses Steve’s temple.
—-
Three weeks later, Steve was all moved in. Olive was forcing herself to compromise. Steve’s stuff didn’t exactly fit her aesthetic and now her apartment looked a whole lot more disorganized and cluttered. But, it really was worth it. Spending every single waking and sleeping second with Steve wasn’t as suffocating as she thought it was going to be. Mostly, Olive felt completely relieved.
Steve handled chores, he planned meals and he expanded his doggy client list so that Olive could have enough alone time to write her articles. He really was the perfect roommate, even if he had a penchant for junk that made Olive think her apartment was ugly.
Sleeping has never been easier, though. She thought the cuddling would wear off, that after enough nights spent together, he wouldn’t cling to her. But he still does, every night. He’s incredibly clingy. And it’s exactly what Olive needed. He softens her edges, she’s in a good mood every morning. Partly because she’s booked the longest, extended “vacation” with a big chunk of her savings.
Tonight, they’re doing the official new partner dinner with her friends. Even though they already know Steve, it’s still tradition. That’s where Olive will announce her trip.
“Hey, babe,” Steve greets Olive when he gets through the door, pushing his little old man cart. She teased him but it’s actually brilliant. Olive would only get enough groceries to fit in one bag because she didn’t want to struggle to carry it all. Steve never struggles. And, he brought her flowers. He hands them over and kisses her cheek.
“So pretty, thank you,” Olive smiles, bringing the flowers up to smell them. “Are you gonna be able to get this all done by the time they arrive, Steve?”
“With your help,” he says, snatching the flowers back from Olive so he can trim them and put them in a vase.
Olive groans, “I don’t wanna ruin it, Steve.”
“Then, you’re just gonna have to follow my instructions really well,” he lifts his brows and Olive feels her thighs heat up. It’s truly a gift, he can turn her on so easily. He must recognize the look in her eyes because he says, “No. We do not have time for that. Don’t tempt me. Now, start cutting up the veggies.”
“Yes sir,” Olive says, obeying him and Steve groans.
“You’re such a tease. Knock it off.”
They work together to make dinner and the timing is perfect. Everyone starts to arrive just as they finish. As they all sit at the table, Olive stands to make a toast.
“First of all, I want to thank all of you guys for coming. This feels like a long time coming, to be honest. You’ve all been so supportive of Steve and I, and I wanted to thank you guys for that,” she says, and turns to Steve, “I also wanted to thank Steve for putting up with all my bullshit for the past year. And I’m looking forward to making up for it…”
“Oh, my god, are you proposing?” Amelia interrupts, her eyes widened.
The smile on Steve’s face grows and Olive has to crush it, “Oh, god, no! Amelia, what is wrong with you?”
“I’m hopeful,” she rolls her eyes.
“I’m not proposing. God. I am trying to say, I’ve booked a trip. A very extended one. Six months,” she says, smiling ear to ear. It’s all she could think about after the breakup with Pilot. She was finally allowed to leave again.
Steve tilts his head, Olive’s kept him in the dark this whole time about it. “You… huh?”
Robin snorts, “That sick of Steve already?”
Olive gasps, shakes her head, “No! No! Actually… I planned to take him with me.”
“Wait, really?!” Steve asks, excitedly as he jumps up from his seat.
“If you’d go, yeah,” Olive tells him just as he wraps his arms around her tightly, spinning them in a circle which has Olive spilling her wine down his back but he doesn’t seem to care.
steve harrington x fem reader | best friends to strangers to lovers | slow burn... like 8 years slow burn | miscommunication | bestfriend!steve, neighbour!steve, rockstar!steve | set in 90s & 00s | eventual smut
summary: you and steve were joint at the hip since birth. your neighbour, your confidant, your person. after graduation, you didn’t speak for six years, until you see him on stage performing in a band with your roommates new boyfriend. except when you’re introduced, he acts as if he doesn’t know who you are. pretending that he didn't follow you to new york and doesn’t write all of his songs about you.
cw: swearing, alcohol, drug use, ig emotional cheating, sexual tension
an: this is the last chapter i have already pre-written, so the next few might take a lil while to come out. but i love this chapter, i can't wait for the next few. i really hope you enjoy! <3
wc: 10.5k
• .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
31st October, 1998
Hawkins, Indiana
You’d spent the best part of four hours perfecting your hair for tonight, tiny tight curls bouncing around your shoulders paired with a red lipstick you had to borrow from your Mom. The black latex skinny jeans that you’d borrowed from your older sister were too tight, in both a good and bad way, and paired with a black off the shoulder top – you could say confidently you were the spitting image of Sandy from Grease.
You had convinced Sam to match costumes with you a month beforehand, and you spent an entire day throwing back and forth ideas until you were practically begging to go as Sandy and Danny. He agreed eventually, and as soon as you got home you rummaging through your closet to find the perfect outfit.
Nancy was hosting the Halloween party this year, your whole group had been excitedly anticipating this for weeks, the last Halloween party that you’d all be here together for before you graduate. Robin was going as Shaggy from Scooby Doo, borrowing a pair of your brown corduroy jeans to pair with a green t-shirt she’d found at the bottom of her wardrobe. Nancy was going as a witch, a stunning, sleek black dress with a hat she’d found in a dress up box in their basement.
Hawkins was already loud in that magical October way, the smell of bonfires somewhere down the street and laughter spilling out from kids as they ran from house to house trick or treating, carved pumpkins glowing slightly unevenly on porches like teeth that don’t line up quite right.
The party was already packed when you and Robin arrived, you didn’t even know this many people could fit in Nancy’s house.
“Blue, Buckley!” You hear Eddie call, appearing almost instantly. He’s holding onto a red cup like it’s a part of his costume, an impressed laugh passing his lips as he takes in your costume. “Nice look, Blue. You look like you’re about to break into song.”
You hear Robin snort beside you, and you flash her a playful frown before you lean over and take the cup from Eddie’s hand. “Yeah, well you look like you lost a fight with a thrift store bin.”
He roars a laugh as he places his hands on his hips, his mismatched costume of a punk rocker that didn’t look too different from his normal attire. “Alright, you win.”
You scan the room as you take a sip from the cup, wincing slightly as the warm liquid burned as it trickled down your throat. “Where’s Sam? Is he here yet?”
Just as Eddie opens his mouth to reply, Steve appears from behind him. He’s wearing a brown jacket, khaki pants with a white shirt, and a hat that’s slightly too small to cover the curls he’s sporting beneath it. You can’t help but fight a small smile that quirks the side of your mouth as he pretends to hit Eddie with his whip.
“God, Harrington. You better put that away or I might get the wrong idea.” Eddie quipped with a smirk, his shoulder knocking his before he leant back over to grab the cup from your hand that you’d stolen from him. “I’ll catch you guys in a bit, I need to go see a man about a dog.” And with that, Eddie disappeared into the crowd of people.
“Sandy!” Steve’s voice wavered, doing his best John Travolta impression, earning a groan and an eye roll from Robin before she excused herself passed Steve to find her own liquid courage to survive Steve’s impressions for the rest of the night.
“Indiana Jones, nice.” You laughed gently as he twirled his whip around slightly, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully.
“Yeah, you like?” He offered you a playful wink before straightening, looking around the room briefly before looking back down at you with a furrowed brow. “Where’s Danny? Aren’t you guys meant to be like, dancing through the fun house at this part of the movie?”
Your head lulled back as you let out a frustrated groan, your arms folding across your chest as you spoke. “I don’t know. He was meant to meet me earlier but he called saying he was coming with Brian, I don’t know where he is.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. C’mon, let’s grab a drink and find the others.” You nodded at his words, letting him guide you through the sea of people to the kitchen.
The two of you were quickly acquainted with Nancy and Jonathan when you arrived, your fingers tightening around the can of beer you found as your eyes glancing at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes pass, then twenty, then thirty – and no sign of Sam. You keep telling yourself that everything is fine, and he’ll show up at any second, that he’ll appear beside you in his leather jacket and overly gelled hair and kiss you, making everything okay.
After a few more cans and a mysterious cocktail that Robin had mixed up for you, you heard the familiar booming laugh of Brian that caused you to spin your head across the kitchen. And there stood Sam, just not the version you were waiting for.
He had his back to you, so you pressed your drink into Steve’s chest for him to hold and crossed the room slowly at first, picking up your speed as your blood pumped quicker under your skin. “Sam?”
He turned quickly at your words, “Oh, hey.” You stop in front of him, and your eyes drop immediately. No leather jacket, no gel, no overly tight pants. Just blue jeans and a white t-shirt, like this is just a normal night and you didn’t spend four hours on your hair for this.
“Wh–” You start, your head shaking gently as you look down at yourself then up at him, “Where is your costume?”
He paused, humming gently as he glanced around the kitchen, catching the eyes of his teammates before he leant down slightly for you to hear him. “I just, didn’t feel like doing it. Don’t make a scene.”
For a second, you don’t process the words, you just stare at him with a dumbfounded look. Then, you let out a cruel laugh, your shoulders shrugging exaggeratedly. “You didn’t feel like it? God, you’re such an ass.”
You spin on your heels and start walking away from him, but he’s quick to grab your arm and turn you back to him. “Oh, come on. It’s just a stupid costume, don’t be like that, baby. It’s just a party.”
“That’s not the point, Sam. You could’ve called me, or told me. I look like an idiot.” You spat at him through your teeth, your eyes blinking back the tears that you were determined not to let fall in front of him and everybody else.
His grip dropped from your arm, shoving his hand in his pocket as he took a sip from his bottle of beer before shrugging a shoulder. “It’s not that serious, you look hot, babe. C’mon, don’t be a downer, let’s have fun.”
You nod once, your lips pursing slightly like you’re agreeing. He smiles at you slightly, like he hasn’t realised he’s done anything wrong, and before you realise you’re doing so, your hand lifts from your side to slap the bottle out of his hand, covering his white t-shirt in sticky beer before shattering across the floor. You huff in contentment before storming out of the kitchen and into the backyard.
Outside, the cold hits your bare shoulders immediately. You swerved through the groups of people that had gathered outside until you found Eddie and a few others at the end of the garden who were now making their way inside. You stormed your way over, planting yourself next to him as you let out a loud sigh.
Just as Eddie placed his hand on your shoulder to ask if you’re okay, Steve comes steaming through the people and across the grass toward you with a concerned look on his face. “Blue, are you okay?”
You nod gently as he sits on the other side of you, lifting your hands to push your curls that were now falling over your face and behind your ears as you sniffled gently. “Yeah, Sam’s just a dick.”
“What happened, honey?” Eddie spoke gently, pulling the joint from his mouth and blowing the smoke away from you and Steve.
“He just,” You started, then let out a soft groan as the balls of your palm came up to press against your under eyes to hold your tears back. “He said it was just a stupid costume, and he changed his mind. But didn’t bother telling me any of this, so now I just look fucking stupid.”
“You don’t look stupid, Blue. He’s the one that looks stupid,” Steve’s voice spoke gently from beside you, his hand resting on your other shoulder before he let out a small laugh. “He looks even more stupid now he’s wearing his drink.”
You groan in frustration, your hands dropping to your lap as your head falls into Steve’s shoulder. “I should probably apologise for that, huh?”
“You’re not apologising, Blue.” Eddie chirped, relighting the joint that had gone out between his fingers before he held it out to you. “Here, have some of this and relax. You look hot, it’s Halloween, have some fun.”
Your eyes narrowed at him as you turned your head to look over at him, sitting up and taking the joint from Eddie and taking a long inhale. Your eyes fluttered shut as the smoke filled your lungs, leaning your head back as you exhaled.
You took a few more pulls as Eddie and Steve talked over you, gossiping like mothers about the costumes that people inside were wearing. The joint was passed between the three of you, Eddie lighting another one shortly after and passing it between the three of you again until all the edges of the night were blurred, and you and Steve were practically one ball of laughter and tears.
The three of you made your way inside, and you were avoiding Sam at every possible point you could, he tried approaching you but Robin was quick to pull you away from him before you realised. You spent the rest of the night dancing, and talking, and kicking Eddie’s ass at beer pong in Nancy’s kitchen.
Eddie offered to drive you and Steve home not long after midnight as the heavens had opened and graced Hawkins with torrential rain. The mix of alcohol and weed mixing in both of your systems. Usually you were good at holding your alcohol, and you had a pretty high tolerance when you smoked, but mixing the two together always turned you into a slurred, sleepy giggly mess.
You end up in the back seat with Steve, your body sat as close to his as it could possibly get. The hat Steve arrived with was now perched on top of your curls, and you were tucked under his arm as your fingertips played with the whip that you’d claimed about an hour ago.
“So, you gonna call Sam when you get in, Blue?” Eddie asks from the front seat as he glanced at you through the mirror, his long hair blowing from the cracked window beside him.
You and Steve let out the same, exaggerated groan at the mention of Sam’s name, causing the two of you to then both burst into a familiar laugh before you shook your head gently. “Nah, that asshole can sit and think about what he did until he’s ready to apologise to me.”
Eddie grinned at your words, nodding gently as he turned onto you and Steve’s street. “Good for you, sweets. Make him work for it.”
As the car pulls up outside Steve’s house, you both stumble out of the car and he’s quick to catch you when your heel catches on the wet pavement and you topple slightly sideways. Steve’s hand hits the top of Eddie’s car twice, both of you shouting thank you as he turns up the radio and speeds off down the street, his hand waving at the two of you through the window as he drives off.
The air suddenly feels colder now you’re standing on the sidewalk in the rain, you look up at Steve through your wet eyelashes to see him already looking down at you with a small grin. His hand comes up to hold your arm, the warmth of his palm grounding you as you swallow the small lump in your throat.
His head tilts toward his house, his voice hoarse as he speaks. “My parents are out of town, you wanna come in? We can dry off.”
You were quick to nod, the substances you’d consumed tonight causing all of your inhibitions to disappear as your teeth sunk into your lower lip. You kicked off both of your heels, swaying slightly as you leant down to pick them up and took off down Steve’s wet driveway to his front door.
Steve’s laughter called out from behind you, and he was quick to follow your suit and head toward his house. The two of you stood there in front of the door as he dug around every pocket he could find on his cargo pants, his jacket and even lifted his hat off of your head to check if they were under there.
You snickered slightly, your body still swaying gently as if you were on a boat, finding it utterly amusing that Steve had misplaced his keys. “Are we gonna have to sleep in your car, Harrington?”
He scoffed gently, his hands sat firmly on his hips as he looked down at you half lidded. “No, Blue,” He said sarcastically, before pursing his lips gently and lowering his voice. “Because my car keys are with my house keys.”
Your mouth fell open slightly, his eyes finding yours before the two of you burst into another fit of laughter. He leant against the front door as your hands clutched at his arm as you fell into him, shaking your head as you collected yourself.
“Okay, what are we gonna do then? Break a window?” You beamed up at him as you leant against the door next to him, your temple pressed against the cold glass as you looked up at him.
He huffed out a breath of air as he turned his head down to look at you, you could see the small crease in his brow that appeared whenever he was worried, but you also noticed how quickly it disappeared when he caught your eye. “No windows will need to be broken. I’m sure one of them’s unlocked, somewhere.” He shrugged easily before pushing himself off of the door and taking off in the rain around to the other side of the house.
You went to take a step forward to follow him, but the rain was falling heavier now and you couldn’t bear the thought of putting your heels back on now. Your arms wrapped tighter around yourself, silently waiting and hoping that Steve would appear soon to pick you up and carry you to the cracked window.
The faint sound of shuffling from inside of the house caught your attention, “Steve!” You whisper shouted out into the October air, shuffling along the porch to hide yourself from whatever was hiding in the Harrington house.
The door swung open, and Steve was standing there – slightly out of breath – but with a proud grin across his face, rain dripping from his clothes. You clung your hand to your chest, thanking God silently before quickly ducking under his arm that he was resting against the door frame.
Before you knew it, you and Steve were up in his bedroom about to discard the wet clothes before Steve tossed a pair of your pyjama pants that you kept here and his old Hawkins High sweater at you, his from the eighth grade that you’d probably ended up wearing more than him.
There was a small hole in the fabric near the wrist, and the green writing across the front that was once bold and bright had now faded from years of wear and tear. You loved it because it smelt like Steve, and when you’d wear it, it felt like Steve was holding you close and keeping you warm. You kept that to yourself, though.
You trudged into the bathroom next door to change and take off your makeup. Steve had started buying makeup remover a few years ago when you started wearing it, and then would complain when you stayed over that you’d have to go home to take it off. Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave, so he kept his bathroom stocked with a lot of things you needed. A toothbrush, makeup remover, your favourite body spray, even pads in case your period came and you were unprepared. If Steve had it his way, you’d never have to leave his house ever again.
The damp black fabric you’d been wearing curled up in a ball as you picked it up from the floor after tossing your used makeup wipes in the trash. When you push the bedroom door open, Steve has his back to you as he’s fishing a t-shirt from his drawer.
You paused in your step as your eyes grazed over the way his back tensed as he rummaged through the drawer, the way the freckles across his skin looked like a constellation of stars in the sky. You cleared your throat gently, and when his head turned over his shoulder you were quick to look away up at the ceiling as you shuffled into his bedroom.
He laughed gently, “What, are you getting shy now?” He pulled a t-shirt on then practically threw himself onto his bed, his arms resting under his head as he looked over at you standing awkwardly by his door.
“What? No,” You managed, tossing your wet clothes along with his into his laundry basket. You flicked the big light off, crossed the room and rounded the bed, sitting at the end of it on the other side to him, pulling your legs under yourself as you looked over at him with an easy shrug. “Just didn’t want you to think I was watching you change.”
Steve’s head tilted into the crook of his arm as he tried to fight a small smirk that grew against his lips, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. You tutted slightly, quickly crawling closer to him and lifting your hand to swat against his chest. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I was not watching.”
He let out a pained groan as your hand hit him, even though it was barely a tap, both of his hands moving from behind his head to grab your wrists, his other hand pretending to talk to a walkie talkie against his shoulder. “Officer, I need back up. Got a peeping Tom here, and she’s dangerous.”
You squeaked a loud laugh as he crackled in and out of his radio, trying to tug yourself free as you hovered over him. “I’ve been set up, it wasn’t me.” You laughed through your struggle, his other hand now grabbing your other wrist and he was quick to flip you over onto your back.
Your laughter faded as Steve now had your hands pinned on either side of your head, your chest heaving slightly after the small struggle he’d just put you through. There was a moment where neither of you said anything, just stared at each other.
Your eyes took in how each freckle across his back and shoulders continued up his neck and cheeks, how if you took the time to press your lips against each one he had you’d probably be here until your hair was graying. You noticed how his lip twitched gently when he noticed you looking at them, how you could feel the warmth of his breath and the smell of beer seeping through his skin and the smell of marijuana through his hair.
He spent his own time taking in how your eyes shimmered in the small strip of light that filtered through his curtain and lit your face up beautifully, like you were a piece of art in a gallery and you were the most prized possession with your own stage lights to show you off. He noticed how your lips curved into a small smile that he knew you were trying to fight when you caught him staring at them, and how badly he wanted to know what they felt like against his own. He could smell your perfume, that intoxicating scent of bergamot, jasmine and patchouli. He wishes he could press his nose against your skin and inhale it like it was his oxygen.
Almost at the same time, you both let out a gentle sigh. His grip slipped from your wrists and he climbed off of you, settling down on the bed next to you with his head resting against the pillow. You shuffled up the bed until you were next to him, laying on your side so your body was mirroring his position and facing his.
The two of you laid there in silence for a moment, both of you taking turns in closing your eyes then watching the other, until Steve kept his open and caught you red handed. You both let out a small laugh, until he lifted his head up to notion to the blanket that had pooled toward the end of the bed once he’d grabbed you.
“You cold, Blue?” His voice was hoarse as he spoke, and it caused a small rumble in the pit of your stomach. Your shoulder shrugged gently, but you slipped your feet beneath it anyway and let Steve pull it up over the two of you.
The sound of the rain falling outside of the window was the perfect soundtrack for the two of you to fall asleep, but somehow you couldn’t. Steve’s eyes were shut, and you watched as his shoulders rose and fell gently as he seemingly slept. You looked over his body at the window that was slightly open, causing the curtain to fly gently across the room.
Steve was asleep, so it’s perfectly fine that you crept your body as close to his as you could without touching. Once you could feel the heat of his body without actually pressing against him, you felt content.
Until, you felt Steve’s arm lift from beside him and wrap around your back. His hand was warm against your skin, even through the thick material of the sweatshirt you were wearing. He pulled you closer to him until your bodies were flush, your breath hitched in your throat as his eyes gently opened to look down at you, and offered you a small smile.
“You’re freezing.” He whispered, earning a small breathy laugh from you.
You nodded softly, keeping your eyes up on his as his sleepy eyes sparkled in the dim of the room. He lifted his head to readjust on his pillow, looking down at you to get a better view of you as his fingertips rubbed back and forth against your back.
“Are you not tired?” He whispered again, causing you to shake your head gently as your hand slips between your face and his pillow.
He lets out a small laugh, moving his hand from your back to bring up to rub the sleep from his eyes gently before he settles it back on you again, his fingers splaying at your waist. He clears his throat gently before speaking, “Are you actually okay, about Sam?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” You sigh gently, tilting your head further in your hand as your eyes dance across the gentle look he’s offering you. “It just sucks, sometimes I feel like I'm in a relationship with a brick wall.”
“Relationship?” His voice clips slightly, the movements of his fingertips circling your skin stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys weren’t that serious.”
After the events of Valentine’s day and the weeks following, you and Sam had grown a lot closer. The last few months of your junior year you and Sam were spending almost every weekend together, much to the disapproval of Steve.
He’d wanted to give you your space as you clearly liked Sam, but he also tried his hardest to still keep you around as much as possible. So, over the summer, Steve would suggest inviting Sam to everything. Movie nights, trips to the diner, barbeques, pool parties. Anything possible to keep you around for as long as he could.
But Sam had never officially asked you to be his girlfriend, which blew Steve’s mind. Sam did everything that a boyfriend would do, he’d take you on dates, occasionally buy you flowers, he’d walk you home, even though Steve was silently grateful you weren’t officially a girlfriend, he still couldn’t believe it was taking Sam so long.
“Well, we’re serious enough that we planned a couples costume, he’s met my parents and we’ve already – well, whatever. I just want to feel wanted, like he sees me.” You tumble through your words quickly, your eyes looking up into the darkness of Steve’s room to avoid his eyes when you gloss over your brief sex life with Sam.
You didn’t notice the way his temperature started rising at the thought of you and Sam together like that, it was something he’d just pretended never happened.
Steve lets out a small sigh, “Blue, if he doesn’t see you then he’s blind.” He shrugs his shoulder gently as if it was obvious. His words pulled a small, disbelieving laugh past your lips which caused him to squeeze your waist gently. “Hey, I’m serious. You’re such an incredible girl, any guy at that party tonight would’ve killed to dress up like a Thunderbird and walk ‘round with you on his arm.”
Your head rolls away from your hand and back into the pillow as you laughed, shaking your head before looking back over at him. “Steve, come on, he was right. It was just a stupid costume.”
“It wasn’t a stupid costume. We had a fun night. You had fun, right?” His eyes narrowed at you expectedly, and you nodded reluctantly as he continued. “Sam being there with you, in your costume, meant something to you so he should’ve followed through for you, no matter what. He’s an idiot.”
Your lips purse slightly at his words, you hate admitting when he’s right. You let out a small sigh as you slowly scoot yourself closer to slot against him. Your head falls into the crook of his neck as your hand curls against his chest, your fingertips scrunching in the soft fabric as you speak gently. “You’re pretty wise sometimes, Harrington.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told.” He lets out a short laugh as his arm pulls you closer to him, his eyes fluttering shut as he holds your body against his, wishing he could lay like this with you every night.
“How are you still single?” You mumble against his t-shirt, a small laugh following your lips as you get more comfortable, your leg slipping through his to curl yourself as close to him as you possibly could. There was a voice in the back of your head, telling you that this isn’t how best friends fall asleep together. But the haze in your brain from tonight was battling it away, the way his warm and heavy body enveloped around you made everything fall away, like nothing else mattered apart from you and Steve, laying here together like this.
His smile faltered slightly as his eyes opened at your words to look down at you, his hand crawling up your back to mindlessly twirl around one of your curls that had fallen out from the rain, his voice at a pained whisper. “Oh, I don’t know. Plenty of reasons. Not found the right girl, for starters.”
He knew he was lying through his teeth, and the right girl was right here in front of him.
You let out a loud sigh, and his breath hitched in his throat as your breath hit hot against his neck. “Well, it seems like I can’t pick any of the right guys either.”
“You will, Blue. One day.” He spoke gently, his fingers now happily brushing through your hair as he tilted his head to rest on top of yours. Little did you know he was hoping that one day would turn out to be today, tomorrow, one day soon.
“What if I never do? What if I’m alone forever?” Your voice wavered gently at the sudden thought of ending up on your own. Since the Tammy incident around Valentine’s a few months ago, you’d pursued Sam knowing that any feelings that you had for Steve had to be put to bed. After his birthday party, Steve had many opportunities to make something happen between you, and after he didn't – you knew you had to move on, for your own sake.
“What? Okay, that’s ridiculous.” He laughs like what you’re saying is unbelievable, he pulls himself away from you to prop himself on his elbow, his hand holding your back steady as you rolled away from him. He looked down at you with a small grin playing against his lips. “But, if you’re really scared about that, I have a proposition.”
You couldn’t help the groan that left your lips as you pulled away from him, your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes caught his in the soft spill of light from the window. “Proposition? You gonna set me up with someone? I am kind of seeing someone, if you didn’t know.”
“No,” He tutted playfully, taking a moment to take in how beautiful you looked in his sweatshirt, in his bed, your features lit up by the moonlight. “I was gonna say, if we’re both single by the time we’re say – 27, we’ll get married.”
“27? That’s pretty specific.” You couldn’t help the small smile that crept against your lips at his words, you couldn’t help but fight down the fire that’s ignited in your chest at the thought that maybe the door that you’d closed on you and Steve was maybe still slightly, ever so slightly, creeping open.
“Well, it gives us enough time to find someone,” He starts as his eyes wander across the darkness of his room, fighting his own smile before looking down at you with his voice softened at the edges. “But not long enough that we won’t be in our prime to enjoy our lives together.”
You hum slightly, pretending to think about it for a moment even though you’re already thinking of the wedding dress you’re going to be wearing on your 27th birthday. “Alright.”
“Really?” He asks with a hint of surprise through his voice, his smile now so bright across his face it could probably light up the darkness in the room if he smiled anymore.
“Yeah, if we’re both single when we’re 27 then we’ll get married.” You shift your hand from under the blanket and hold your pinky finger up to him and he links his around yours before you’ve even finished lifting your hand properly, the tingle from your fingers linking causing your stomach to explode with butterflies.
“Deal.” He grins happily, before pulling his hand away and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you into the position you’d been in minutes prior. Your face burrowed into the warmth of his t-shirt as his hand rubbed at your back gently. “Goodnight, Blue.”
Within minutes, you’re both snoring loud enough to wake a graveyard.
When the sunlight crept through his curtain hours later, your eyes peeled open to be faced with the curve of Steve’s shoulder. You lift your head carefully, and you can feel your brain thumping gently against your skull, silently regretting the drinks Robin had freepoured you last night.
You lifted Steve’s arm from around your back and slowly slid out from his grip. You let yourself look down at him for a moment, taking in how peaceful he looked when he slept. As you glanced over at the clock and realised your whole house would be awake by now, you were quick to leap out of Steve’s bed and make your way home. You grabbed your heels that you’d dropped by the front door on the way out, and quickly padded barefoot across the wet street to your house, slipping in thankfully unnoticed.
Steve had woken up a few hours later, unsurprised that you’d had to run home as he knew that you parents liked to have you home for breakfast on Sunday mornings. He spent his own Sunday morning alone, in his quiet house. He did the washing that you’d added to his laundry basket, he even called Eddie to ask if he’d dropped his key in his car last night.
It was around nine o’clock that night when he’d finally settled into bed that night. It had been a long, tiring day of doing nothing to work off his hangover and he was looking forward to having a quiet, early night. Not without calling you first, of course.
You had just settled into your own bed, sat up against the headboard as your phone next to you started ringing. You picked up on the first ring, your voice bright as you already knew who it would be.
“I was just about to call you, how are you feeling?” You chirrped, taking a sip of the tea you’d brought up to bed with you before setting it down on your coaster.
“Not as bright as you’re feeling, by the sounds of it.” Steve laughed gently, his arm curling around the back of his head as he settled in for the night. “How was your day?”
“I made it back for breakfast this morning, so all good there. I saw Sam, actually.” You spoke gently, your eyes looking over your room as you waited for Steve to speak, but he stayed quiet. “He came over earlier and we talked, he said someone on the team said couples costumes were embarrassing, and he was sorry. I said that he needs to be more open with me, communicate, so I think we’re okay for right now. No more couples costumes, though.”
You decided not to mention to Sam that you’d fallen asleep the night before in Steve’s arms, or that you’d made a promise with another guy that you’d marry him in a couple years time if you were both still single. You didn’t mention to yourself that you hoped you would be.
“Well, that’s great, Blue. I’m glad it all worked out.” Steve said as he looked up at his ceiling, pulling his hands over his face before dragging it down and holding it against his chest.
“Yeah, me too.” You bit down on your lower lip gently, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you spoke softly, “Thanks for last night, Steve.”
“Of course, I’m always here for you, you know that.” He spoke through the phone, thinking back to last night at the deal you’d made and silently wished that he could fast forward to your 27th birthday and finally be with you for the rest of his life. He took in a sharp breath before speaking, “I’m gonna hit the hay, but I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early?”
“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning, Steve. Sleep well.” You smiled down the phone before leaning over and placed it back down on the receiver.
He holds the phone to his ear for a few moments as he listens to the hum after you said goodbye, and looked over to the other side of the bed where you’d been laying only twelve hours earlier, and he let out a gentle sigh at the idea that you probably never would again.
12th May, 2006
New York City, New York
You’ve been staring at your reflection for what feels like the past hour, the soft yellow light from the lamp in your bedroom making everything feel warmer than it is, maybe a reflection of what you’ve been feeling in your chest over the past few days since you kissed Steve.
On one hand, you could pretend that this would be just another dinner with your brother and his fiancee, like it’s just a normal night. A glass of white wine and easy conversation. But the other hand is pressing down on you telling you that you have to tell them about Steve, and truthfully you don’t know how much longer you can keep it from either of them.
Your hands smooth down the front of your dress, a pale pink slip that rested on your thighs, you tug on the silk slightly like it might settle the tight feeling in your chest, but it doesn’t. You even pulled your hair up and out of your face so it wouldn’t cling to the back of your neck when you would inevitably start sweating from your nerves.
The thought slips in quiet and tempting of not telling them at all. You could sit there, ask about the wedding plans, nod along and smile when you’re supposed to and leave all of this back here in your apartment. Steve. The late night calls, the text messages when you’re at work, the way your heart still hasn’t caught up in your head.
No. You know Mason, you know Emily. And they absolutely know you, and they’ll see straight through you within five minutes.
You know that Mason is going to hate this, not just dislike or question you but hate it. He saw you after everything happened, he picked you up after you broke down on his doorstep and brought you back down to earth. He noticed the way you cried and tried to hide yourself, the way you stopped being yourself for a long, long time. He’d never forget that, and he’d never forgive Steve for that.
“Get it together.” You mutter to your reflection, reaching for your mascara. You press your lips together and try to focus on something small and controlled. If you can get through this tonight, maybe the rest will follow with ease.
The cab ride to the restaurant Emily texted you the address to was too quiet for your liking. The city blurred past the window in streaks of light and movement, but you can barely register any of it. Your knee bouncing restlessly as your fingers tapped against your thigh in an uneven rhythm you don’t notice you’re doing until the driver glances you in the rearview mirror.
There’s still time to tell him to stop, to turn back and make an excuse. To text Emily about a work crisis and disappear back to your apartment where everything felt simpler, where you don’t have to say his name out loud and be met with a scowl.
It was too late now anyway, as you climbed out of the taxi and made your way to the restaurant in front of you, spotting them through the window before you could open the door. Emily was leant forward across the table, animated as always with her hands moving as she speaks. Mason sat opposite her, relaxed with one arm draped over the back of his chair while watching her with that comfortable and easy smile he’s worn since the day he met her.
The bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and Emily’s head snaps to you immediately. “There she is!” Her face lights up and before you can brace yourself, she’s already up on her feet and pulling you into a hug that smells like her familiar perfume and something comforting you can’t exactly name.
“Hi, Em.” You say, a little breathless with a soft smile after she pulls back.
Mason stands and reaches his arms around you a second later. His hug is firm, grounding you in a way that makes you want to confess everything right there standing over the champagne flutes and bowl of bread.
“You alright?” He asks quietly, just for you as he pulls your chair out. You nod reassuringly, sitting down in the seat as he unconvincingly follows.
By the time the drinks have arrived, you’ve almost managed to relax. Emily’s talking about a new buyer at work and Mason’s interrupting her every now and then just to wind her up and all of it feels familiar and safe. Like you’re transported back to the first year and a half after you left college and moved in with them, look how far they’ve come now.
“Okay, we have news.” Emily blurted excitedly, unable to hold it in any longer as her hand reached over the table to link her fingers through Mason’s.
You nod at her over the tip of your glass, the bubbles from the champagne tickling against your nose. “Okay, shoot.” You reply as you place the flute down in front of you.
You look between them, something warm flickering between them. Mason glances at Emily, then back at you with a wide grin spread across his face. “We’ve set a date.”
“Oh my god! When? Where?” You shift in your seat excitedly, the smile across your face brightening even more if that was even possible.
“Fourth of July, back in Hawkins.” Emily speaks gently, her other hand lifting to rest on Mason’s forearm as he leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.
Fourth of July, Hawkins. The irony of celebrating love on that specific day in that place doesn’t just hit you, it washes over you like a tsunami. You push down the tightening feeling in your chest as Steve’s name rolls to the front of your tongue.
“Hawkins? That’s gonna be amazing. Congratulations, you guys.” You pick up your glass again, tipping it back to swallow down as many of the bubbles as you can.
You notice as you place your glass back down that the both of them are quieter now, not in a bad way, just like they’re both in a familiar thought. “What, why are you looking at me like that?” You narrow your eyes at them both with your eyebrows furrowed gently.
Emily huffs out a small laugh, shaking her head as she glances down at her glass then up at Mason like she’s checking with him. He just smirks, and offers her a small nod that causes your stomach to flip.
“Okay, I was gonna wait a little longer but I don’t think I can.” Her smile was brighter now, but still a little nervous which kept you slightly on edge. She reaches over the table, grabbing onto your hand before you can overthink her words and actions. Her touch is warm and grounding, and suddenly this feels a lot bigger than whatever joke you thought would be following next.
“So, as you know, I’m an only child. I always wanted a little sister that I could share makeup and clothes with, give advice to and have a built-in best friend for life.” Her voice was soft, the words already bringing a small prick to your eyes.
“When I met your brother, I knew instantly that I’d met the love of my life and the man I wanted to be with forever. But not only did I get the most amazing man in the world, I got an incredible second family and my very own little sister. This day would not be the same if you’re not up there with me,” She spoke your name gently and sincerely, a few tears pricking at her own eyes as she squeezed your fingers. “Will you be one of my bridesmaids?”
For a moment, you don’t react. The words land on your chest but they don’t settle straight away, all you can do is raise your other hand to your cheek to wipe away the few tears that have fallen. “Wait, what? Really?” Your voice was soft and wobbly.
“I want you up there with me. With me, through all of it.” Your chest tightens at her words, your smile reflecting hers as she leans into Mason’s shoulder, a soft shrug to her own as if this was the easiest decision in the entire wedding process. “I couldn’t imagine doing it without you.”
“You’re serious?” You make out through a disbelieving laugh, pushing the tears off of your cheek with your wrist. You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. But your eyes sting slightly, and you hate that it’s happening here, now, when you’re already feeling too much.
“You don’t have to say yes right away,” Emily adds quickly, misreading your silence. “I just – I wanted you to know that I want you there. With me.”
You look at her properly then. By the way she’s watching you, hopeful but trying not to push. At how steady her hand still is around yours. And it hits you all at once, every version of your friendship, every late-night conversation, every moment she’s been there without question, not as your brother’s girlfriend, but as your sister.
“Of course I’ll be your bridesmaid,” You say, your voice breaking slightly despite your best effort to keep it steady.
Emily’s face lights up instantly, “Yeah?”
“Emily,” You laugh softly, squeezing her hand. “Of course. You’re not getting married without me, are you joking?”
She lets out a relieved breath, standing slightly just to lean across the table and pull you into a quick, slightly awkward hug over the plates and glasses. “I knew you’d say yes,” She says into your shoulder.
Mason raises his glass with a proud smile wipes across his face, “To the bride, and the bridesmaid.” You roll your eyes as you pull back from Emily, but you both lift your drink anyway, clinking it against his.
“And,” he adds casually after taking a sip from his glass. “You can bring that mystery man you’ve been hiding from us.”
Your grip tightens slightly around your drink and you see Emily’s eyes light up instantly. “Yes! Oh my god, I forgot about that. Who is he? Mason said you were acting weird and hiding him in your room.”
You shake your head quickly, placing your glass down in front of you as you look between them. “I wasn’t being weird–”
“You were,” Mason cuts in, laughing gently as he leant back in his chair wearing a knowing smirk. “You’re acting like I haven’t been young and in love before.”
Heat creeps up your neck, thinking that you could still deflect and laugh it off, maybe change the subject or say it’s nothing serious. You could just lie, say it’s some guy from work. Except your body is failing you, your heart pounding now, loud and insistent in your ears. Say it. Say it. Say it.
Emily leans forward, her brown eyes soft but curious as her chin rests on the palm of her hand. “Come on. Tell us.”
You clear your throat gently before speaking up, swallowing the lump in your throat that you’d felt forming all night long. “I was going to tell you tonight, actually.”
Mason’s expression shifts immediately, his teasing gone, replaced with something more focused. You always feel like he can read your mind, and is able to tell exactly what you’re thinking. “Tell us what?”
You glance down at the table, at your hands that are now twisting slightly in your lap. This is it, no backing out now. You exhale slowly as you look back up at them. “Well, it’s not someone new,” You admit quietly. “Not exactly.”
Emily frowned slightly as she tilted her head, you could see her brain working back to all the boys that you’d told her about in previous years. “What do you mean?”
Your chest feels tight again, like the words escaping your mouth are fighting against you. “I’ve been seeing someone,” you say, forcing it out. “Again.”
Mason leans back slightly, already tense. “Again? Who is he?”
You nod, barely meeting his eyes. The silence between the three of you stretches across the table. Your heart is racing now, loud enough you’re sure they can hear it. You look up, taking a deep breath as you speak. “It’s Steve.”
“What?” Mason’s chair scrapes slightly against the floor as he shifts forward, disbelief flashing across his face. “You’re joking.” Fuck, maybe you shouldn’t have brought this up tonight after all. “Steve? Harrington?”
“Yes.” You nod gently, leaning back in your seat as if it’s hiding you from the glare of your brother. You can feel the tears welling behind your eyes already as your fingers shift awkwardly in your lap.
“Are you serious right now?” His voice rises, anger bleeding through as he looks at you like you’ve just done something unspeakable. Which you figure in his eyes, you kind of have. “After everything he did to you?”
“Mason–” Emily starts, reading the look on your face and reaching over to hold his arm in an attempt to ground him.
“No, I’m sorry, but no,” He cuts in, shrugging his arm from her grip to run a hand through his hair. “He broke you. You were a fucking mess, and now you’re just, what? Back with him like none of that happened?”
“It’s not like that, Mason.” You say quickly, your voice unsteady but firm as you lean over the table toward him like looking him in the eye will make him understand all of this.
“Then what is it like?” He laughs cruelly, shrugging his shoulders as if he’s not going to believe anything you say.
You hesitate for half a second, looking over at Emily who’s giving you an apologetic look. Your eyes meet Mason’s, and you speak with a simple shrug.
“I’m in love with him.”
The rest of the dinner wasn’t awkward exactly, just a lot of Emily discussing wedding plans and you catching Mason’s eye before quickly looking back at Emily. The night air hits you the second you step outside. Cooler than you expected, you hadn’t realised how warm it was in there, how loud, until the door shuts behind you and everything goes quiet all at once.
For a moment, none of you move. Emily’s beside you, arms folded loosely like she’s holding onto something. Mason’s a few steps ahead, already pacing slightly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He hasn’t said much since you left the table.
“Mason–” You start, but the word barely gets out before he shakes his head and turns around to face you and Emily.
“Look, I just need a minute,” He mutters, not looking at you. Your chest tightens as he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I just don’t get it, I don’t get how you can go back there after everything.”
“I’m not asking you to get it,” you say quietly. “I’m just asking you to trust me.”
He lets out a short, humourless laugh, finally turning to look at you. “That’s exactly the problem,” He says, “I do trust you, I don’t trust him.”
You nod gently, your palm rubbing against your arm as you look up at him. He lets out a short sigh as a cab pulls up to the curb beside you, he shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a few steps closer to you.
“Blue. You know I love you, and I just want you to be careful. Seeing you like that before was horrible, I don’t want that happening again.” He speaks quietly as his lips purse together, like he’s trying not to think back to when he’d spend his nights holding you until you cried out all of your tears.
“I know.” Your voice was not much louder than a whisper, and he let out a short sigh before pulling you into a tight hug, his hand rubbing your shoulder gently.
“Just be careful, okay?” He says as he pulls away, quick to jog over to the cab and give their address to the driver as Emily steps into your vision.
“Em, I’m sorry. I didn’t think tonight would end up like this.” You spoke gently, but she was quick to shake her head at you and grab onto your hands.
“Hey, hey. You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re a big girl, honey. If you love him, then you owe it to yourself to work it out. Just call me if you need anything, okay?” She pulled you into a tight hug, and you let out a breath you’d been holding in all night as you nodded gently.
The two of you pulled apart at the shout of Emily’s name, her hands squeezing yours quickly before she crossed the sidewalk over to the cab and slipped into it. Mason offered you a small wave which you returned before he slipped in afterward.
You watch them drive away for a second longer than you mean to. Then you turn in the opposite direction to go home. That was the plan, anyway. Your heels click steadily against the pavement, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet street. Your mind is still buzzing with Mason’s voice, Emily’s smile, the way your own words felt leaving your mouth that you still weren’t expecting to say.
I’m in love with him.
You exhale slowly, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you walk. Your phone feels heavy in your hand and before you can overthink it, you unlock it and scroll. Your thumb lands on Haley’s number and bring the phone up to your ear, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, honey!” She beams down the phone, causing an instant smile to grow against your lips at the sound of her excited voice. “How was dinner?”
You hesitated, not wanting to tell her about the outburst about Steve, because then you’d actually have to tell her about Steve. “It was amazing, Em asked me if I wanted to be a bridesmaid.”
“Oh my God! That’s so exciting, honey. What are you doing now?” She crackles through the phone, earning a small hum from your lips.
“Walking home.” You watch your heels dragging against the concrete before looking up at all of the flickering buildings towering above you.
“Boring,” She replies instantly, “Don’t do that, it’s Friday night. We’re all at Chris’s, come over.” You can hear their voices calling your name through the phone, telling you to come and join them.
You try to fight the smile you can feel growing as you slow your steps slightly. “All of you?”
“Of course. Me, Chris, Dan, Jay, Steve.” Your heart stumbles, of course he is. Your steps stop completely now as the thought of Steve is practically guiding you through the air to Chris’ apartment like a cartoon character following the scent of a pie, “Who hasn’t stopped asking me about you, for some reason.” She whispered into the phone after a small giggle.
You stare ahead, your mind racing. You should go home, you should change out of your dress and take your makeup off, crawl into bed and not think about any of this until tomorrow. That would be the smart thing to do. “I’m on my way.”
The night air lingers on your skin as Chris opens the door for you to step inside, but it doesn’t last long. Because the second the door closes behind you, you can feel the instant, unmistakable pull to him before you’ve even seen him.
“There she is,” Chris says, grinning as he pulls you into a quick hug, but you barely register it. Because your body already know where he is in the apartment. And when you look, Steve’s already watching you like he’s been waiting.
Your heart stutters gently before steadying into something slower, heavier. You smile before you can stop yourself. It’s small, and just for him, but it’s enough. His mouth tilts slightly in response, something soft and familiar passing between you in a way that would mean nothing to anyone else in the room, but everything to you.
“Can I get you a drink?” Chris asks, already making his way to the bottle of wine Haley had brought over and poured a glass for you.
“Thanks,” You mumble as he hands it to you, still half-looking at Steve out of the corner of your eye as you sit opposite him, next to Haley.
You try your hardest to act normal. You laugh when you’re supposed to, you answer questions about the wedding, you take a sip of your drink even though you barely taste it but it’s impossible to ignore him. Every time you look up, he’s there. Across the room from you, leaning back against the sofa, listening to Chris, but his attention keeps slipping back to you.
Your eyes catch each other, then drop before anybody else can realise that you’re making googly eyes across the room. Then inevitably find each other again seconds later like it’s instinct. It’s ridiculous, and completely uncontrollable.
At one point, he smirks at something someone says, but it’s not them he’s looking at. It’s you. You feel your stomach flip as you shake your head slightly, trying to hide your smile behind your glass.
You don’t even remember deciding to go into the kitchen. One minute you’re in the living room, the next you’re stepping away, needing air, space. Something to break the constant awareness of him. You barely make it to the counter before hearing his voice behind you. “Running away again?”
His voice is low and hoarse, you can only close your eyes for half a second. Of course he followed you. You turn slowly, leaning back against the counter like you need it to steady you. “I wasn’t running,” You say, but your voice comes out softer than you intend.
He’s closer than before, not touching but close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the pull of him, like it’s physical. “Sure,” He murmurs through a soft smirk.
There’s a beat, and your eyes drop to his mouth without thinking. You know he notices, because his expression shifts slightly, something deeper settling in. “So, how was your day?”
You nod gently, trying your hardest to keep yourself back from throwing yourself at him. “My day was great, thank you for asking.” Your arms cross against your chest as you fight the butterflies that are dancing in your stomach because he’s still looking at you like that. Like the rest of the room doesn’t exist, like he’s been waiting all night for this moment alone.
“You okay, Blue?” He asks, softer now as he takes another step closer to you.
“Yeah, I am.” You say, just as quietly. Because you are, right here with him. There’s a pause between the two of you, and then his hand moves towards you carefully, like he’s giving you time to stop him. But you don’t.
Your fingers meet his halfway, like it’s instinct, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And the second your skin touches everything else disappears. Your breath catches, your hand tightening slightly around his without thinking. He exhales softly, like he’s been holding it in all night.
“God, I missed you.” He murmurs as he pulls you closer to him, his eyes feasting over you like he’s finally letting himself properly look at you.
“I saw you last week,” You whisper back quietly as you tilt your head to the side, your tongue runs across your lower lip gently as you drag your thumb against his skin softly.
“Still, a week is too long.” He whispers back, his other hand coming up to press against the small of your back as he holds your body against his.
“You shouldn’t have come in here.” You murmur, even as you lean in just slightly, even as your hand comes up between the two of you to curl up in the fabric sitting on his chest.
“Probably not.” He agrees, but neither of you sounds like you care. His hand shifts again, just enough to pull you a fraction closer, and that’s it.
That’s the moment where everything narrows, where you stop thinking about who’s in the next room, who could walk in, what this looks like. All you can focus on is him. The space between you disappears slowly, like neither of you wants to rush it.
Before you know it, both of you are leaning in. You’re so close that your breath is mixing with his, the heat of his body causing the silk to stick to the sheen of sweat that’s risen to the surface of your skin from the tension the two of you have just built.
“This is a bad idea, Steve.” You barely whisper, your hand trailing from his chest slowly up to his neck as your fingertips wrap around the collar of his shirt.
“Definitely, but I don’t care.” He murmurs back, earning a smirk to grow against your lips as you pull him closer by the collar. Your lips are barely an inch apart when you hear footsteps gradually getting closer to the kitchen.
“Oh good, you’re both in here.” You jump apart instantly, of course it’s Chris.
You turn too quickly, grabbing a glass off the counter like that’s what you were doing the whole time. “Yeah,” You say, a little too fast as you clear your throat. “Just getting a drink.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair, stepping back just enough to look normal, even though his eyes flick to you for half a second, something amused tugging at his mouth. Chris doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t say anything.
“I was just telling everyone, Claire’s booked us a show in Pittsburgh next weekend.” He beams as he reaches into the fridge to grab another beer, kicking it shut with his foot before leaning against it and twisting the cap off his drink.
You latch onto the conversation immediately, grateful for something to ground you. “Oh yeah?” You say, turning back slightly.
“Yeah,” He nods excitedly after taking a sip, pointing the neck of his bottle at you with a small, knowing smirk. He definitely saw what almost happened between you and Steve. “You should come.”
A small blush crept to your cheeks as your heart continued to beat against your chest. You can still feel Steve’s hand against yours, even though he’s not touching you anymore. You glance at him. He’s already looking at you with his eyebrows raised slightly, waiting for your answer.
“You should,” You hear Haley call from the other room. “It’ll be so much fun.”
You hesitate for a second, looking back over at Steve before nodding gently. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come.” You return, and this time, when Steve smiles at you, there’s nothing subtle about it at all.
Chapter Warnings: SMUT (unprotected p in v sex, m recieving oral, fingering, masturbation, denial?) slow burn friends to lovers, jealousy, depictions of grief, parental issues
Chapter Summary: as you and steve begin to navigate your new relationship, you have to find a way to reconcile your happiness with your baggage.
Fic Summary: You and Steve can't stand to be around one another... but you have to learn to coexist and raise your goddaughter together in the face of the apocalypse.
The first time you met Steve, you were new to Hawkins.
At nine years old, you had your own friends that you'd miss terribly, and you didn't want to have to meet anyone new. You moved across state lines for the good of your parents' careers and took a box of goodbye letters and friendship bracelets with you.
Your parents became members at the Hawkins Regency Country Club two weeks into moving, a recommendation from the head surgeon at Hawkins Memorial. The first community mixer was held in the event center at the club, a big ballroom overlooking the tennis courts.
You snuck away into the hot summer night knowing that you wouldn't be missed and sat on the patio with your legs tucked beneath your stupid, itchy dress. And, really, you didn't expect to be bothered, but you heard shoes scuffing behind you and knew that your isolation was short lived.
In some part of your mind, you thought you'd always remember that version of Steve— in ugly, corduroy pants and a green striped shirt, holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres. He'd sort of had a bowl cut too, which you suspected was the reason that he didn't keep too many pictures of his childhood around. Not until he had turned eleven and got his hair cut like Lief Garrett, at least.
"I didn't want you to be out here alone," he said. "It's dark."
You shrugged and turned out to face the tennis courts… and the woods beyond. It was so creepy and ugly here. The trees were big, and the woods felt so endless. Like you could just walk and walk and never escape. That's what being in Hawkins felt like.
But Hawkins, Indiana needed a cardiologist and had an opening in neurology with a path for advancement. It was like fate, your parents told you. It was the perfect place for them to go. Perfect for them, but… you weren't so sure.
"Do you… um… like to ride bikes?" Steve asked as he sat next to you. His nails were a little bloody around his cuticles, which you thought was gross, especially because he intended to eat finger foods. He was actively picking at them, which only made it worse, and you wondered why he was making them worse.
"No, I like to roller skate," you answered, nose wrinkling as he picked again and you watched him expose pink, raw skin. "Do you want a band-aid?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm fine." It went quiet then. You heard an animal calling in the woods, nothing you could identify. You wondered if there were entirely different animals here, or if anything overlapped. "I'm Steve. I live on Bradford Street."
"I live on Bradford Street." You turned to look at him, really look at him and gave a tiny smile before you told him your name. "I just moved here with my parents. They're doctors."
Steve offered you a small cocktail weenie. You declined. "I think you're the house next door," he said. "That's where the Thomases lived, but I heard my mom say that Mr. Thomas was having a baby with someone who wasn't Mrs. Thomas, so I guess they moved somewhere that they can all live together."
Your expression wrinkled. That didn't sound right, but Steve seemed so sure, so you jut went along with it. As you sat there, the music from the party was filtering through the crack in the sliding doors. Jive Talking, which you loved. You even had the 45. Steve didn't look particularly amused.
"Well, you live next door, so we can be friends," Steve said. "Maybe next week you can roller skate, and I'll ride my bike, and we'll see who's the fastest."
It was all so simple, it was exactly what you needed. A companion during parties where you were meant to be seen not heard, a friend to spend time with when the world felt so lonely. For a while, you tried to write your friends back home… but then Hawkins became your home.
It felt like all you needed was Steve, but then you got Carol and Tommy too, and that was perfect. You'd lost all of them in different ways, and you got them back in ones you didn't expect.
You woke up on the Friday of Sam's first birthday beside a sleepy Steve with his face smushed into a pillow, listening to the sounds of Sam breathing over the monitor. You moved closer, kissing his shoulder, right above the barely-there pink scars where he'd been dragged across the upside down version of Lover's Lake.
"Mmmph," Steve groaned into the pillow. He didn't bother opening his eyes for a while, but then he rolled over and blinked the sleepiness away. A fond smile played on his lips at the sight of you, even with your messy bed head and granny pajamas. "Morning, beautiful."
You rolled your eyes and laughed. "Good morning," you said with a tiny grin. He started to sit up, but you put a hand on his arm and tugged him back into bed. "Where are you going? I thought Robin cancelled the broadcast today for Peanut's party."
Steve grinned and kissed your forehead once before peeling himself off of you. "Yeah, but it's Peanut's birthday. I'm hosting the morning show so I can record it all on tape and show it to her when she's older."
You grinned and sat up. "That's cute," you replied. "Now I feel like my painted toy box is a stupid idea. It's not sentimental enough."
"No, it looks great and she can keep it forever. And who knows if she'll ever actually listen to the broadcast, y'know?" he insisted.
You followed him into the en suite and sat on the countertop while he got the shower running. He stretched, and your eyes flicked to the dark hair that trailed from his tummy and disappeared into his flannel pajamas.
He caught your gaze when you looked back up at him and rolled his eyes. "No. You're not showering with me." You laughed, cheeks burning hot as you tried to play coy. Just as you opened your mouth, he shook his head. "No way. Not to save water, not because you need one anyway. You're going to make me late."
A slow sigh escaped you. You hadn't actually slept together since the last time a week ago. And that wasn't to say you hadn't gotten close, but Steve kept pulling back before things could get too far, panting into your mouth with a gentle, I think we should slow down.
It was impressive, but generally frustrating. You wanted to sleep with Steve. Frequently. And you were confused about why every time that you tried to move beyond a heated make out, he politely rebuffed you.
I just want us to take our time, or, I don't want to rush.
But you hadn't taken your time. You had slept together after months of silent pining and jealousy and angst, and now… nothing. What good was taking your time when you'd already gone all the way? When, frankly, you'd missed a few bases on your way there?
But something about seeing him, with the grogginess of sleep still clinging to him, all unkempt and domestic… it was really doing it for you. You'd toe the line again and see if an entire week of behaving was slow enough for Steve. "I won't make you late," you insisted. "It's so cold today, a hot shower sounds really nice. And I don't want to go back to bed and be cold and alone."
Steve put his hands on his hips and sighed. A tiny smile played on your lips as he ran a hand through his messy hair and rolled his eyes again. "Fine. But it's just a shower."
Five minutes later, your hands were all over each other as you stood beneath the steaming spray. You panted, gasping into his mouth as he kissed you hungrily. His tongue dipped into your mouth, laving over yours like he was desperate to claim you inside and out.
But just as your hand moved down his stomach, following that dark thatch of hair, he pinned it to the tile. "Steve," you whined as he licked up your throat. "Let me touch you, baby."
And you swore you could feel him shiver against you. "You sound so hot calling me baby," he panted against your skin. And, Jesus, his dick twitched where it pressed against your hip. "But I want us to—" he hissed when you grabbed his ass to pull him closer, making him rut against you, "—to take this slow. Don't wanna cheapen it."
Huh. You'd need to unpack that later. For the moment, you pulled back just to meet his gaze. "Are you telling me that I can't suck your cock?" You asked with a pout.
"Oh, fuck me," he groaned. "No. I mean— not no I'm not telling you that. It's… yes, I'm… not yes as in—" He looked like he was being held at gunpoint, all soaking wet from the constant spray of water over the both of you, as pathetic as you'd seen him.
"Steve," you said, as gently as you could manage. "I am so fine with cheapening the moment. I'm literally begging to suck your dick right now, this is humiliating for me."
You kissed his throat, and he tasted like tap water and the remnants of his shampoo that had rinsed out. "Just…" You planted another wet kiss, sucking softly at the tender skin just beneath his pulse point. "Lemme take care of you. Please?"
He groaned, and you felt his cock twitch against your hip again. For just a moment, he gave in, rolling his hips almost imperceptibly against you. And then he sighed and pulled back to look in your eyes. "Can I take you on a date first?" He asked, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. "It's important to me."
You sighed softly, feeling an annoying sting of disappointment. Maybe he had a point— you'd done everything so backwards, maybe it was smart to cool off until you'd gone on a date and talked things out. So, with an annoyingly understanding and affectionate tug in your chest, you nodded. "Tomorrow," you said, meeting his gaze. "Promise?"
He smiled and kissed you again, slow and deep. Your eyes fluttered as he pinned you against the shower wall, groaning into your mouth. "Turn around, I want to wash your hair."
Steve's fingers moved over your scalp, combing through your wet hair as he massaged in the shampoo. You couldn't help the soft sighs that escaped your lips as he worked the suds through the ends of your curls.
A tiny laugh escaped him and you turned over your shoulder, brows furrowed. "Your perm is all grown out," he mused. "You should let me cut it."
"So you can get your payback?" You asked, raising a brow. He grinned and continued to work the shampoo in, until your eyes were half-closed and your knees felt weak.
He kissed your wet, soapy shoulder fondly once he'd gotten all of the shampoo rinsed. "I know the importance of a person's hair." He parted your hair and placed a gentle kiss at the back of your neck, sweet and tender. You listened as he lathered soap in his hands, then moved them to your slick skin.
A soft, shuddering sigh tumbled from your lips as his big hands massaged the soap onto your tits. One hand feebly grabbed at the slick, tiled wall. "Steve," you panted, almost a warning.
"Mmm?" He let his hands move, lower, sudsing up your tummy and ribs. "Just getting you clean."
Bullshit. His hands moved to your thighs, then squeezed your ass. He kissed the top of your spine again, pressing his forehead to your damp skin. He eased you beneath the spray, so all of the suds and bubbles rinsed down the drain between your feet.
"All better," he said softly. You opened your eyes and smiled up at him, feeling that stupid fluttery feeling that he seemed genetically engineered to instill in you. "Now get your cute ass back to bed. I have to take care of something before I leave."
A sly grin spread across your lips as you cast your eyes down, where his cock twitched, hard and flushed a pretty pink at the tip. You had a pretty solid idea of what that something was, and it wasn't something you really wanted to miss.
"Don't let me stop you," you said, and he groaned as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and met his gaze once more.
"You're so evil," he muttered. But he couldn't stop his own eyes from wandering, falling from your eyes to your mouth, to your tits, to the soft curls at the apex of your thighs. He huffed and you watched his hand wrap around the base of his cock and squeeze.
His pretty eyes fluttered a bit, but when they locked on you, it sent a shot of pure electricity down your spine. It settled in your stomach, molten hot, and you gave a shaky exhale as his fist began to glide up and down his cock.
Holy fucking shit. Your mouth felt dry, and you swear you got a head rush just watching him. Rivulets of water streaming down his strong arms, the bulge of muscle as his hand worked over his length.
"This what you wanted?" He panted. His palm splayed against the tile beside your head, making him lean even closer to you. He smelled like the sweet honey of his shampoo and the spice of his body wash. You nodded quickly, and he fucking laughed. "Such a perv. Have you always been like this?"
No. God, no. He had a way of bringing out the most degenerate parts of you, it seemed. The angry, jealous rage, the toe-curling, horny need, the sappy, doting affection. So you just rolled your eyes and shook your head. "Shut up."
He tilted his head down, just enough that your noses pressed together and your lips were just barely grazing. Each of his panted breaths puffed over your wet mouth as he worked himself in his hand. You could hear the slick glide of his fist even over the spray of the water.
"Fuck, you look so pretty," he groaned, and his lips brushed yours in a cruel imitation of a kiss. So close, but still not enough.
You laughed weakly, holding his gaze. With his forehead against yours, you couldn't see much beyond the slope of his nose. That close, you could see every tiny freckle there, like pretty constellations.
"Wish you'd just let me touch you," you murmured. He groaned and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips. He pulled back just to pant and moan, soft against the side of your mouth. "So stubborn."
He kissed you again, hungrier this time. His tongue moved over yours, careless and desperate, until he pulled back with blown pupils and flushed cheeks. "I'm really close," he panted. "You drive me crazy. I want you so bad."
"So bad?" You echoed. He nodded, knocking his nose against yours.
"Mhmm…" His nose nuzzled against your cheek as he sloppily kissed the side of your mouth. "So fucking bad, honey." The moan that escaped him sent a thrill through you— electric right down to your core. You felt his hot cum painting your thighs as he worked himself through his orgasm. It felt so intimate, seeing him come apart like that all on his own, that he'd done that for you, because of you.
His head slumped against your shoulder, wet hair sticking to your face as he huffed like he'd run a marathon. "Jesus christ," he panted. "Fuck." He kissed your shoulder, rinsed you clean, and kissed your forehead for good measure.
You slipped back into the bed and the cotton sheets felt like ice without him there to warm you up. And, frankly, you were still really turned on, enough that you had to slip a hand into your panties and get yourself off just listening to him humming and fixing his hair.
Just imagining him in his tight Levi's with the pudge of his tummy jutting over the waistband, with the dampness of the shower still clinging to the hair on his chest and his shoulders. The sounds he had made echoed in your brain, the smell of him close to you, sweet like honey.
You came embarrassingly fast, biting into the plush of your bottom lip as you worked yourself through it.
Steve stopped by the bed a few minutes later and planted a gentle kiss on your lips, totally oblivious. "Go back to sleep, dummy," he mumbled against your mouth. Then he stood and grinned. "The big broadcast is at eight, so make sure you have the radio on. I'll be back to help before the party, I promise."
Steve's broadcast started at 8AM, right as you eased a hungry Sam into her high chair and turned on the portable radio on the kitchen table. Sammie perked up at the sound of the station's jingle, or maybe it was just that you were bringing her a sippy cup of milk while you got ready to make her scrambled eggs on the stovetop.
Good morning Hawkins, I'm your host, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, and I hope you're ready for a very special broadcast in honor of a very special girl. My girl, my Peanut, turns a whole year old today.
You grinned at the sound of a cheesy cheering sound effect, followed by noisemakers. Even if he had a helping hand, that choice was all Steve.
Sorry to any parents listening, but compared to Peanut, your kids are total duds. She knows three whole words, and she has two teeth, both on the bottom. Her favorite food is oatmeal, and she totally hates all of the gross meat flavored baby food. She can walk a little, but prefers to be carried, and if you turn your head while she's on the ground, she's gone, because she's the fastest crawler on the planet. Her favorite Care Bear is Funshine, and I'm not ashamed to know all of their names.
And, you're probably thinking— Steve, you have a daughter at twenty, you're totally throwing your whole life away. But that's total bull. Honestly, it feels like I was just kind of aimless before I became her dad. I think now, I'm finally seeing things clearly.
Anyway, I hope she's listening to this someday on cassette, or maybe on hologram. Who knows? So Peanut, if you're listening right now or in the future— your dad loves you, your mom loves you— you're probably the most loved kid in the world. Happy Birthday, Sammie. This one's for you.
A dumb smile played on your lips as the bouncy bass riff of My Girl played through the speakers. You glanced over at Samantha, your girl, and felt such a strong tug of affection that your eyes went misty.
Stupid. You'd never been so sappy before now. A perk of motherhood, maybe.
Various party members and their families called in to leave birthday messages— for posterity. Auntie Rob was the first one to say her piece from the studio. And when the calls rolled in, they came in droves. Claudia and Dustin, The Wheeler's, The Sinclair's, Joyce and the boys.
Your girl, your peanut, was adored by everyone who was lucky enough to meet her. She smiled up at you with the few teeth she had as you put her plate down and fed her little bites. And every time she heard her dad's voice on the radio, you swore she looked a little happier.
The birthday party was later that day, with snow still falling in fat flakes that piled up in snowdrifts outside. It was a biting, nasty cold that no one would have wanted to leave the comfort of the indoors for.
And even so, the house was packed full of people who wanted to celebrate her. Soggy boots were left in the foyer, where they melted into snowy puddles that the beach towels on the floor did little to help with. Parkas overflowed the rack by the door and spilled onto Daniel Harrington's desk like it was a coat check at a fancy restaurant.
You'd attempted to frost the cake with little peanut shapes, but they turned into ugly brown blobs. Karen Wheeler stepped in to assist, easing the piping bag from your hands so you could, "enjoy the party."
You were doing your best to do just that, passing from group to group, trying to keep everyone entertained. You passed Sam being held by Mrs. Perkins, who was posing for a Polaroid. It was a full house— a combination of Carol and Tommy's families, yours and Steve's families (with large exceptions), and the family that he had found in the party.
It was nearly elbow to elbow, even in the large house, and it was far too cold for anyone to spill into the backyard. One of Steve's little cousins knocked into your legs as he ran to peek inside the dozens of gift bags that had spilled from the dining table and onto the floor. You hadn't really expected so much, but it was a welcome surprise.
You scanned the room, eyes furrowed, and frowned when you didn't spot either of your parents. They had called to tell you that they would be there, but the party was well underway and they still seemed to be missing. But you couldn't focus on that, just like Steve couldn't really think about his parents' absence, or whether they would have cared to show up in the first place. You just continued through the party, trying to keep things in order.
A smile played on your lips as you passed a table littered with pictures of Sam's first year. In the very middle, in a small metal frame, was a photo of Carol, Tommy, and Sam on the night she was born— red in the face and wrinkly. In a frame beside that was a framed photo of you and Steve holding Sam in her Halloween costume, with her full bucket of candy between you. It felt fair that all four of Sammie's parents were represented, and you couldn't imagine the day without them there in some capacity anyway.
As you passed the snack table, you felt a strong arm loop around your waist and tug you back, until you were held snug against a broad chest and felt lips peppering kisses onto your cheeks. "Hey, beautiful," Steve mumbled against your cheek, punctuating it with a final smack. "Did you fix the cake?"
"Mrs. Wheeler's got it," you answered, turning your face to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "Have you seen my parents yet?"
He sighed and shook his head. "Not yet, but they said they'd be here," he assured. He rubbed his hands over your arms like he and kissed the crown of your head. "And if they don't show up… that's their loss, right?"'
You sighed and nodded, then tilted your lips and accepted another chaste kiss, which was met by loud, exaggerated groaning. With a sheepish smile, you turned to look at Dustin and Robin, who were eating pinwheel sandwiches and peanut butter cookies that Claudia had brought.
"Can you tiptoe around each other again?" Robin asked. "I can't keep down my food."
"Yeah, this mushy shit is nauseating," Dustin said with a grimace.
Your brows furrowed and you tilted your head, a sly smile spreading across your lips. "Yeah? As nauseating as a certain song?" He swallowed, and had the good sense to look abashed. "A certain song about a certain story… It's on the tip of my tongue actually…"
Dustin's expression wrinkled and he shook his head. "You're both seriously evil people, you know that? You belong together." He grabbed the peanut butter cookie from Steve's plate and shook his head. "Don't eat my mother's cookies, you don't deserve them."
You shook your head and peeled yourself off of Steve so you could continue your rounds. The party was there, along with their families. You hadn't realized how much Steve was appreciated until Sue Sinclair was pulling you to the side to talk about how Steve had spent August of '85 practicing with Lucas to prepare him for basketball tryouts. How he'd never missed one of Lucas' games, so they wouldn't have dreamed of missing Samantha's birthday.
And it seemed like every one of the kids and their parents had a similar story. Steve let Mike wait out a storm inside of Scoops Ahoy after closing, and sent him off with free ice cream. He drove Will into the city to check out the one comic book store that had a comic he needed. Claudia had already told you about Steve helping Dustin get ready for every single school dance he's ever attended… and reiterated it any time she had your ear.
You just wished El could have been there. She was an angel in your eyes, and she loved helping with Sam whenever she came to visit. You'd always felt so lonely as an only child— it was part of why you and Steve bonded so quickly as kids— and being around El let you feel like a big sister.
You'd promised to save her a slice of cake for the next time you saw her, but it still felt a bit unfair that she had to hide in the shadows. A girl like her deserved life in the sun.
"There's Mama," you heard a voice say, and suddenly Sam was in your arms again. You weren't even sure who had handed her over, but you bounced her on your hip and carried her over to Steve.
He smiled at the sight of her, expression softening as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. She let out a happy dada, which Steve had been bragging to everyone about. You had definitely heard her say more and hi first, but you weren't going to ruin his fun.
You adjusted her dress and straightened the bow clipped to the tiny ponytail on the top of her head. A camera flash startled the three of you, and you gave Claudia a sheepish smile as she took more photos, until Dustin put a hand on her arm and guided her away.
"Baby parties are kind of boring," you said to Steve as you nodded back to the clusters of people just standing around and snacking. "Maybe we can knock out happy birthday, cut the cake, then open a few presents?"
He frowned. "You don't want to wait a little longer?" He asked. "We can hold out for your parents, if you want me to. I can stall for time, give a big, sappy speech."
Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, you got that out of the way tenfold this morning," you said. "It was really sweet, by the way. I got a little weepy, which is totally lame. But, she's lucky you're her dad."
Steve's cheeks went a little pinker than they had before— you were around him enough now to notice things like that. And how he swallowed hard at compliments that really meant something, like he had to force himself to accept it.
"Yeah, thanks," he said quietly. "And we're both really lucky to have you. You're so…"
A sight over his shoulder made you stand up straighter, and the sound of whatever he had been saying was muffled in your ears like you'd been submerged underwater.
Because in the middle of the living room, with snow clinging to her hair and a beautifully wrapped gift in her arms was your mother. It was almost impressive, how little you'd crossed paths with her since your brief visit to the Hospital. Sometimes, when you would go with Steve to visit Max, you'd hear her voice down the hallway, but that was the extent of it.
You wondered if the nurses warned her— Maybe avoid that hallway, your whore daughter is visiting the comatose redhead with that boy she lives in sin with.
But that wasn't fair. Well, really, what they had done wasn't very fair either.
"Sorry I'm late. I was hoping your father would be out of surgery by now, but…" She gave a flippant wave of her hand. "I brought a gift for Samantha."
A strained smile played on your lips as you bounced her on your hip. "That's really sweet, Mom," you finally said. "I can go carry that into the dining room with the others. Do you want to hold Sam? She's an easy baby, really calm."
She gave a polite, but firm shake of her head. "You don't need to bother, darling," she insisted. It was her coded way of saying, I'm here, but not for that. So you took a deep breath and watched her disappear into the party again.
You looked towards the front door and let out a heavy sigh. "We should probably just get everything done," you finally said to Steve. "Because if we wait much longer, Sam's gonna get fussy, and people are going to get antsy and…"
Steve planted a kiss on your forehead and ran a thumb between your brows, smoothing the wrinkle there until you laughed softened your expression. He pressed a small kiss right where his thumb had just been. "I'll handle everything, don't even stress."
If there was one thing that Steve was good at, it was taking the burden off of your shoulders and moving it onto his own. So while you got Sammie into her high chair and made sure her bow was clipped on straight and her shoes were buckled right, Steve rallied the troops and brought in the cakes.
Steve counted the room off, and Sam wailed as the crowd around her sang happy birthday. Her face went strawberry red as she cried, so you and Steve had to blow out the single candle on her tiny, baby sized cupcake. It was unclear to you whether or not that counted as a wish, but you had one. Please let this all work out.
That afternoon, when the guests had cleared out and left only a few stragglers to help clean, you took inventory of Sam's haul. With the quarantine in place, the gifts hadn't exactly been top shelf, but there was a clear show of effort that made you happy.
Hand-sewn outfits, hand-me-down toys and books, baby gear that people had no need for and were willing to pass along. The dining room was filled with it all, and you were honestly a little worried about finding space to store everything.
As you counted the number of Care Bears that she had gained (two funshines, one good luck bear, one bedtime bear, and three cheer bears), you felt arms loop around your stomach and you laughed softly as you were tugged against Steve's broad chest.
"You did good today," he mumbled against your throat as he kissed the soft skin there tenderly. "The party was fun, the cake was delicious—"
"I heard Mike say the peanuts on the cake looked like balls."
"Mike's an asshole," he said. "Mrs. Wheeler fixed it either way, and everything was perfect. You're perfect." His palms splayed over your tummy, pulling you tighter against him as he continued to pepper gentle kisses.
"Steve," you murmured softly, as he moved your hair away to suck at your pulse point. For a moment, your knees threatened to buckle, and you couldn't do much more than exhale a shuddery sigh. "Steve, Claudia is right in the kitchen."
He smiled against your throat and you shivered as his teeth grazed over your jaw. "She's occupied." His voice vibrated against your throat, and you sighed weakly.
You laughed softly and turned around in his arms so you could look up at him. "Steve. What about our date tomorrow?" He groaned against you and the ticklish buzz of the sound made you shiver. "If the rules apply to me, they apply to you."
With a sigh, he peeled himself off of you and fixed you with a little pout. "That's too many Care Bears," he sighed. "Way too many. And she already has, like, a million upstairs."
You laughed and held the good luck bear to your chest. "I think you should keep this one," you said. "Put it in the van for the crawls. A real good luck charm."
He ran his fingers over a hand-sewn big bird pillow and laughed softly. "What'd your mom end up bringing, anyway?" He asked, meeting your gaze. "Baby's first MRI?"
You scoffed and shook your head. "No, uh… it was old baby things of mine that were in storage," you answered. "Mostly dusty, old clothes that Sam will never wear. And…"
You reached into the box and pulled out a curly stuffed bear with a big yellow ribbon around it's neck. With a big smile, you held him to your chest. "Do you recognize him?"
For a moment, there was little more than confusion behind his gaze, and then there was a flash of recognition. "Mr. Coco," he said with a grin. "I gave you that when we were, like, ten."
"Eleven," you corrected, squeezing the bear even tighter against your body. The top of its head smelled like the attic— ancient and musty, but it made your heart ache with nostalgia. "What are your parents sending?"
He shrugged. "Well, snail mail and quarantine aren't exactly the best ways to communicate," he said with a wry laugh. "Three months ago I sent a letter with pictures of the three of us to them and reminded them of her birthday. And two weeks ago I got a heavily redacted letter that mentioned that they had shipped us a camcorder as a combo birthday-Christmas gift, with their best wishes for the three of us."
A tiny grimace twisted your expression. "Bleak," you said softly. "But useful? It'll be nice to have some home videos of Sam."
"Yeah, well that's if it makes it through the blockade, or whatever. Ninety-nine percent chance some bozo MP is fucking around with it right now."
Steve wrapped his arms around you again and kissed you slow and sweet, and you felt the tension of the day melt like the snow that dripped from the eaves outside. His hands moved up to your shoulders and you sighed against his mouth as his thumbs worked out the tension there.
"You should bail on cleaning," he said softly, mumbled against the corner of your mouth. "Why don't you go take a really long, really hot bath and relax for the rest of the night, hm? We have a big day tomorrow."
A grin twitched onto your lips as you peered up at him through your lashes. "Are you telling me I need to rest up before our date?" You asked coyly. "What are we gonna do? Run a marathon?"
"Something like that."
Before you could respond, you felt a presence at your left and turned to see a scowling Mike Wheeler. "Gross. Can you two stop sucking face long enough to tell us where the recycling bin is?"
Steve groaned in annoyance and stalked off with Mike in tow, dragging him into the garage where you kept the bins during the snowstorm. In his absence, you slipped into the kitchen and gave Claudia a grateful smile.
"You've done so much for us already, you don't have to clean any more," you insisted. "You should get home, Mrs. Henderson. Let the rest of us pick up the slack."
She looked reluctant, but grateful as she gathered her things and her son and headed towards the car. In the morning, you'd call the florist and send her a thank you bouquet, and even that didn't feel like enough. Without even meaning to, she'd become Samantha's unofficial grandmother, in a way. Whether she'd ever claim that title or not, it made you happy that even with your own and Steve's parents being absent in one way or another, your girl still had a family around her to give her love.
You tidied up what was left of the kitchen, then joined Lucas and Erica in the living room. They were trying to silently pop balloons with tiny pinpricks that they squeezed the air out of, which meant whenever one popped loudly, the offender got yelled at.
"There's a baby asleep upstairs, shithead," Erica snapped and slapped her brother's arm.
"You just popped one!" He argued back.
Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan were trying to make tidying the display of Peanut's baby pictures a three person job. Will was folding up the banners and garlands that he had painted for you to keep, while Joyce sat staring longingly at the snowy patio like she was craving a smoke.
You slipped into your bedroom and smiled at the sight of a tiny present on your nightstand. You chewed on your lip as you took the little box into your hands and read the small note on top.
To the best mom in Hawkins, from the okay-est dad in Hawkins. One year down, seventeen more to go. At least.
Inside the box, you found a little ring rattling about. A pretty gold setting with two little diamonds framing a dainty ruby cut into a heart shape. It fit perfectly on your ring finger, the one on your right hand.
You recognized it immediately— Valentine's Day of '80, Sylvia Harrington got the ring as an apology. Steve told you as much, when you had to sit through the Hawkins Regency Valentine's Day dinner and watch her showing the little ring off to the other ladies.
I heard Mom say he's screwing the secretary again. That's why she got that and not, like… a card and a bouquet.
The next time you went over, you found the ring shoved in the back of the jewelry box and tried it on. Still too big for your fingers, but so pretty that you just wanted to take it home. He said you could, if you wanted, but you knew if your parents caught you with it, they'd drag you over to return it by your ear.
Steve had remembered, after all this time. It was funny, how it had been a thoughtless gift from his father, but meant so much coming from Steve. One woman's sorry-for-cheating present is another's treasure.
You took Steve's suggestion and had a long, hot bath in Sylvia Harrington's pink bathtub. And you figured if you could have her ruby ring, you could use her fancy soaps and bath oils. You stayed in, decompressing until the water went lukewarm and you felt like a lavender-scented raisin.
It was still snowing out— you could see it from the big windows in the bedroom, so you pulled on your comfiest sweatsuit and thickest socks before braving the living room.
"Oh look, Mom's back," Robin said when you walked back in. It made your face heat up still, that stupid nickname. "We're watching Clue, if you wanna join."
You grabbed an extra slice of cake and slid into the free spot beside Steve. The second you were beside him, his arm found its place around your shoulders like it was second nature. And, really, you fit against his side like you belonged there.
No crawls, no monsters, no fears. Just one really good day— the best day. Steve and the rest of the party sprawled around the living room, a stupid movie on TV, your girl upstairs napping.
His lips pressed against your temple and you melted against him. You wished every day could be just like that.
Snow was still falling in fat, lazy flakes as Steve drove you into town the next day. The headlights illuminated them as they drifted down, landing in clumps atop yesterday's snow.
Steve had managed to strike a deal with Mrs. Henderson, or maybe he had just begged until she folded. Frankly, you weren't sure how he pulled it off, but you were baby free until the morning, which was as exhilarating as it was unfamiliar.
Your stomach fluttered with all sorts of strange feelings. Nerves, like any other first date you'd ever been on. Worry, because Sam was staying the night with Claudia and she'd never spent the night anywhere before. Giddiness, because you'd spent most of your adolescence dreaming about a date with Steve Harrington, and it was finally happening.
Enzo's was, as he put it, the only real option for your kind-of-first date. You didn't bring up that your last date had been to Enzo's as well, or how that date had turned out. All he knew was that it went bad, you didn't get to hook up, and he was stupidly smug about it.
The table he'd reserved was a little small, tucked into the corner next to the string quartet they had on Saturdays. They were playing Vivaldi— one of the songs that played from your childhood music box. You kicked Steve's shin as you tried to readjust your legs, and laughed bashfully as you mumbled a quick apology.
"You look so beautiful tonight," he murmured, and you melted a little as he brushed your hair behind your ears. "You got all dressed up for me, huh?"
Truthfully, you'd spent a stupid amount of time getting ready— flipping through Vogue and Cosmo for any inspiration for how to dress up while not freezing to death in the snow. Eventually, you copied an editorial as best as you could— a turtleneck sweater, a mini skirt, red tights, and black boots.
"I wanted to put in some effort," you admitted, a little bashful to have been called out for it. "Most of the time I'm just wearing sweats and a t-shirt covered in baby food, milk, and god knows what else. I thought you deserved me at my best for our date."
His brows furrowed at your words, and he shook his head quickly. "What? You're always at your best. You're— I mean, god, you're perfect all of the time, not just—" He exhaled hard and met your gaze. "I didn't mean to imply that you're… y'know, better, but—"
"Steve," you said gently. "I know what you mean, and thank you. I think you look pretty handsome yourself." He preened at that, and you grinned at his proud little smile as he read over the menu and tried not to look too happy about the compliment.
"Sam said milk today," you said, after a prolonged bout of silence. "Clear as day. So that's word number four."
His expression wrinkled a bit and he shook his head. "No, it's five. She said bye when we dropped her at Henderson's."
You were unconvinced. She'd said buh… and gah, and blew raspberries. But you shrugged and chewed on the crispy breadsticks the waiter had brought out with your waters. No wine— you tried to order their cheapest red and were promptly carded. That's what a fancy establishment got you.
While you waited for your food, the conversation was stiff. Talk about the station, about Sam and her newest milestones. About Robin, apparently dating someone new and totally stealing your thunder as the party's newest couple.
And then you just… sort of ran out of things to say. What was there that you hadn't said already earlier that day? Or that week? Or in the past nine months of living together?
There was so much balancing precariously on the shoulders of the date. It was your first full night away from the baby ever. It was your first real date with Steve. It was the requirement Steve had set before you could have sex again. And, in the back of your mind, it felt like a litmus test for the viability of your relationship.
"So…" you pushed your dinner salad around with your fork and the tomato on your fork mopped up the vinaigrette. "What's a normal first date conversation to have?"
Steve perked up at your attention and gave a small shrug. "I dunno… uh, where do you see yourself in five years?"
A snort escaped you and you couldn't help an amused smile that crept onto your lips. "What, like a job interview?" You laughed lightly as he ducked his head, but humored him. "Um… I would hope I've at least gotten my associates in nursing by then. I might think about trying to get a job at one of the schools when one of the batty, ancient nurses finally retire."
He looked at you expectantly, and you felt your face burn a little. "And in this very optimistic vision, your parents graciously hand over the keys to their place while still paying the bills so we can have a nice place to raise Sam," you joked, because it was the least mushy way you could communicate that he was still in your vision of the future. "What about you? Five years out, what do you want life to be like?"
You watched him think for a moment— brows drawn together, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. A soft, huh, escaped him, like he hadn't thought about what his own answer would be.
"I guess, y'know, I want all of the bad stuff in Hawkins to be over," he began. His thumb ran along your knuckles again, worrying over the ring as he thought. "I'd have a decent job doing whatever the hell I can get hired to do. That part doesn't matter as much as just, y'know, being a good provider for my girls. And Peanut would be in school by then, and she'd be doing really well because we'd be working with her at home too. And, I dunno… I think it'd be nice if she had a sibling or two by then, before she's too big and feels left out when we have more."
Oh. You took a slow drink of your water and tried to pretend like you couldn't feel Steve's eyes on you, studying your reaction. Steve wanted more kids. Steve wanted more kids before you even turned twenty five. Steve wanted to have kids with you. And maybe you hadn't schooled your expression well enough, because his eyes went a little soft and his throat bobbed nervously.
"If we… y'know, have more," he amended. "But have you thought about it? Having more kids, I mean."
"That's a… wild question for a first date," you said with a weak laugh, trying to brush off the seriousness of the question. "I guess I never really thought about it before everything happened, you know? I thought I'd decide whether or not I'd have kids when I was older and had everything else figured out first. But, uh… I guess it got decided for me."
Truthfully, you'd always wondered if you wanted kids at all. It seemed like everyone's parents let them down eventually. Your own, who hadn't ever really seemed interested in raising you in the first place, Steve's who tormented him with both emotional and physical distance. Carol's father whose benders drove her to your house for an escape, and Tommy's father, who pushed him aside to pour all of his attention onto his shiny new step-family.
It just felt like all parents did was fuck their kids up in some way. Whether intentionally, or as an unfortunate side-effect of just existing.
But you'd also seen Claudia doting over Dustin at the dinner table, encouraging his interests and hobbies even if she didn't understand them. You'd heard Steve singing Sam to sleep at three in the morning, exhausted but full of so much selfless love that it didn't even bother him that much. And you'd felt a new part of yourself growing and changing over the past year— like the muscle of your heart expanding to create a new space all for your girl. Full of pride and love and joy for every bit of her that you got to experience.
The odds felt stacked against you, in a way. Most parents messed up; everyone you knew had, at one point, slammed their bedroom door and just screamed into their pillow about how they hated their parents, or they just didn't understand. And you thought that, maybe, the inevitability of it was just part of life that you had to count on.
Because you still remembered how proud your father had been when you clumsily stitched your teddy bear's arm back on, and how your mother had beamed about how beautiful you looked before prom. You remembered Carol's father's slow recovery for his family's sake, and how he'd cried happy tears when they danced at her wedding.
"I guess I don't think it would be the worst thing," you said finally. "More, I mean. Like… two or three including Sam. If the circumstances are right."
"What about four?" He asked, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
So you brushed your hair back and narrowed your eyes with an easy smile. "Do you always ask your dates how many babies they're willing to pop out for you on first dates?"
He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and laughed. "Sorry, you're right, that's pretty intense, huh? Uh… it's been a while since I've been on a first date," he admitted. "Like a real, sit down, have a conversation date, you know? Not just…"
"Yeah, I know what a first date is," you replied with a tiny laugh. "Who was your last real one? Nancy?"
It was meant to be a teasing jab, but his cheeks went a shade of pink that might have been adorable if it weren't for jealousy roiling around your stomach. Which was stupid, really, but that didn't make it any less present. "I mean, yeah, pretty much," he admitted.
"Huh… Carol told me you were, like, really dating around after I left Hawkins," you said, raising a brow. "Like… constant stream of girls dating around. I guess I didn't realize she meant, like, fucking around."
He glanced at the tables on either side of you, but the string quartet was playing loud enough that it sort of muffled your conversation. "I took most of them out beforehand."
You laughed wryly. "Most of them."
His eyes narrowed, and you could sense defensiveness in the tick of his jaw. "Why are you being so weird about this? You're acting pissed."
You didn't know how to even begin to explain how you were feeling, because it was a weird feeling. This itch under your skin, a resentment. Of the girls, of him. Stupid, nagging, hot jealousy from a very loud, very tender spot you thought you'd outgrown.
"I'm not pissed," you insisted, because you were pretty confident that you weren't. "And I don't know what it is, okay? I just feel crazy when I think about you with other girls. It makes me feel like I'm in high school again."
Unfortunately, you were self aware enough to know where it all stemmed from. Carol's birthday party in the stupid basement closet and your first kiss with Steve (with anyone). How he had immediately confessed that he wished you had been Lisa.
It was watching his endless stream of girlfriends and going to parties where he'd disappear into the nearest door with a lock and walk out unkempt and smug. It was the mental image of Steve with pretty girls who he took on casual dates and hooked up with in his car, the same car that he'd gotten you in the backseat of.
It made you stupidly nauseous to think about. That you were one of many, that there was always a chance that you were being compared to some other girl he'd been with, for better or worse.
Maybe Amy was a better kisser. Maybe Laurie was better in bed. And Lisa had better tits, and Stacey had a better attitude, and, and, and. Maybe the only thing you had going for you was that, for now, he was in love with you.
"Hey, I can see your brain working," he said, and you thought it was sweet how visibly concerned he was, at least. "This isn't like high school, okay? After the wedding it was all just… meaningless. I was looking for something— for someone— that wasn't even in Hawkins."
Your chest fluttered a little at his words. There was a sick sort of pride you felt at being the one in the back of his mind while he was with other girls, just like he had been with you. It soothed that nagging voice in the back of your head, just knowing that you had been the one who he was comparing them all to.
Sure, it was immature and selfish, but it had always been a part of you, that jealousy. "Oh," you said softly, because you couldn't think of anything else to say.
"That's why this date means a lot to me, you know?" He said. His cheeks were dusted with the faintest ruddiness, the softest spray over his freckle dotted face. "I just… I needed this to be different than before, so you don't think that being your boyfriend isn't important to me. I didn't want you to think I just wanted to sleep with you, and that's all that mattered to me, because I wouldn't blame you if you thought of me that way."
You swallowed around a lump in your throat and nodded. "I don't think of you that way, and I know you really care about this," you said, lips twitching with a tiny smile. He took your hand from across the table, his thumb running over the ruby ring on your finger. Your heart was doing a funny, fluttery thing, one that made you feel like you were going to cry or laugh because you were so full of feeling that something had to come out.
You knew what it was, but you couldn't bring yourself to verbalize it. "Hey, about what you said before… I don't want you to just pick whatever job is available so you can be a provider, or whatever," you said. "Isn't there anything you want to do?"
He shrugged, brows knit. "I don't know," he admitted. "Remember that career aptitude test we took in senior year?" When you nodded, he sighed. "It told me I was best suited to be a, like, retail associate, which is just a fancy way of saying a schmuck who folds shirts for a living."
Your lips twitched with the beginnings of a frown at his dejected tone, like he'd given up on ever doing anything he cared about. "Steve, c'mon, they give you, like, twenty suggestions. They weren't all just retail."
He sighed, and the forced nonchalance in his expression was how you knew it really bothered him. "Alright, fine, they also said I should be an elementary school teacher."
Your brow knit. "Well, what's the problem with that?"
His laugh was bitter and dry. "Maybe that I'm a goddamn idiot," he muttered. He looked up and saw pure concern on your face, which made him quickly shake his head and try to look unbothered. "I'm sorry it's just… it doesn't matter what I'm suited for. I just want to be good to you, and good to Sam. I'm happy when I know you're both healthy and happy. And you're both healthy and happy so..."
"You're not an idiot, Steve," you pressed. "And I'm not going to be happy if you're killing yourself every day at some soul crushing job, just for my sake."
Across the table, his nails dug into the soft skin around his cuticles and pulled. It made your stomach turn just to watch it, especially when you had to look at the raw, tender flesh. "Do we have to talk about this?"
"Well, if you can ask how many kids I'm willing to give you, I think I can tell you that I want you to have a job you care about," you countered.
It struck you then that this wasn't a first date. It wasn't even a fiftieth date. While you were avoiding your feelings for Steve, your lives had grown around one another whether you wanted them to or not. Tightly woven, completely inextricable.
Nothing was as simple as just being each other's boyfriend and girlfriend when you'd been playing house since March. Mom and Dad. Samantha's Parents. Hello, this is the Harrington Household, we can't come to the phone right now, but—
Boyfriend felt too casual for what he was to you. It felt small and childlike. You were talking to Steve like your future together had already been written in permanent marker. And, really, you knew that feeling wasn't just about Sam. It was a choice you made daily, that you'd been actively making since March.
A choice to wake up and see things through, to live with hopefulness instead of anger. It was the harder path, you were more than sure of it, but the funniest sense of certainty settled over you as you looked at Steve across the table.
It had never felt so obvious until that moment.
"I think you're smarter than you give yourself credit for," you said finally. "And I think you're funny, and charismatic, and shockingly selfless. And if you ever can't decide on what to do, I vote that you stay a DJ, 'cause your voice sounds really sexy on the radio."
He laughed and shook his head incredulously, but the tiny smile on his lips as he stared at the tablecloth told you that you'd managed to cheer him up a little.
The waiter brought out your plates, which gave you both a healthy buffer to push thoughts of the future aside for another time. The conversation moved away from heavy topics like how many kids will we eventually have and what job will you have to support them and don't be jealous that I was sleeping around before we reconnected, I did it because I missed you, and into safer places like wow, these mashed potatoes are really good and I think the menu actually called it a potato puree.
Your fork dragged against your plate, and it suddenly felt very… calm. Sweet and well intentioned, but so much more grown up than you were used to. It reminded you of being twelve and having a babysitter come over so your parents could go have a date night. They went out, had a nice meal, and got home exactly at nine so they could hand over the cash to the babysitter.
You didn't want to feel like them— not now, not ever. Besides, the mention of a future career outside of interdimensional monster hunting had bummed your boyfriend out.
"Do you wanna do something fun after this?" You asked as you finished your last bite. "Like… maybe we can hit up Big Town and see if that bartender who always sold us drinks still works there."
"Big Town?" He asked, brows furrowing. "You want to go bowling?"
You nodded. "Yeah, why not? When's the last time either of us did anything fun?" Really, your lives had become a series of end-of-the-world emergencies, child-rearing, and brief moments of respite in each other. But fun… the kind of fun that you'd had before the world ended, had been a rare occurrence in your lives as of late.
He gave you a guilty look look, like like a puppy that had just been caught chewing on your favorite shoes. "This isn't fun?"
"No, it's great, Steve, and I appreciate that you planned all of this," you insisted. "But… I think we should take advantage of our baby-free night since it's only, like, half past eight. And I want to see if I can kick your ass in bowling still."
The promise of a little competition lit a spark in his eyes, and his guilty, disappointed expression disappeared. "I always went easy on you," he said with a grin. "And you're right, this isn't the most exciting date of all time. I just wanted it to be kind of fancy, I thought you deserved to be treated to something nice."
You leaned across the small table and planted a soft kiss on his lips, not caring that your blazer was at risk of dragging across your plate. "It's very sweet," you said against his lips. You gave him another slow kiss and sat back. "You're very sweet. And very, very bad at bowling."
Steve flagged the waiter for the check, unable to sit back while his athletic prowess was called into question. On the way to the car, after he had paid for the meal (a meal which you thought was way too expensive, but you weren't going to tell Steve that), you linked your fingers with his and tugged your jacket a little tighter around yourself.
But thoughts about how the conversations inside had gone kept nagging you with each step away from the warm glow from the windows. You didn't want to leave that part of the date with unsaid words or a dark cloud over it.
"Okay, to start, I'm sorry for getting weird about you dating around," you began, pausing at his car. You leaned against the passenger's side door and peered up at him. "It's totally fine that you did, y'know, and I'm not ever going to think lesser of you because you did, or judge you for anything, because that would be totally hypocritical. And it's not even about you it's—"
The soft warmth of a kiss on your cheek made you shut up and take a deep breath. He stepped back and brushed your hair out of your face with a an amused, if not understanding smile. "It just made me think about how much time we've wasted, y'know?" You asked, meeting his gaze. "I don't even know if there's anything we could have done to change how things ended up, or if this is just what we were meant for, but sometimes I catch myself thinking about all of the places we could have fit back together before."
You thought about senior year, and if Steve would've come to your window after Billy beat him senseless— cold tile under your knees as you cleaned the blood off of his face and stuck pink bandaids on the deep cuts. How easy it would have been then to just apologize for your fight before you slept together and things got more complicated.
Or, maybe, Fall break of your freshman year of college, when Carol and Tommy sent you to return a couple of tapes to Family Video. You had thought it was a simple favor because she was way too pregnant to deal with the asshole manager bitching her out about late fees, but, no. Steve was behind the counter like they'd planned it all. Honestly, they probably had.
Maybe if you'd just talked it out then. If he hadn't been so avoidant, if you hadn't been so angry.
"I'm glad it's now," he said finally. "I'm glad you got to stay away from… everything I come with for a little while." His eyes shifted over your shoulder and you turned, looking at the football stadium glow of the military base in the square. A shiver ran through you, not from the snow. "Let's get you in the car, you're freezing. And I don't want you to blame it on frostbite when I kick your ass at Big Town."
A smile played on your lips as you nodded. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him again, slow and sweet, then got in the car.
Honestly, you didn't hate the Beamer that much anymore. It smelled like Steve's cologne, and a little bit like the strawberry applesauce that you'd spilled into the floor mats in the backseat when you'd tried to appease a crying Sam on the drive home from a doctor's appointment.
The radio was turned to WSQK, as it usually was. As Steve cranked the car, you heard Robin announcing her next track— a throwback by Depeche Mode. Steve made a face and turned the radio up.
"I put her onto that one," he muttered, without much venom at all. He flipped down the visor to check his hair in the mirror and your heart fluttered at the sight of the pictures of you and Sam clipped inside. He brushed his fingers against the pictures briefly, like it was a habit, before he shut the visor and gave you an easy grin.
That was your Steve. The Steve you felt that aching affection for that you couldn't bring yourself to place. He held your hand over the center console and drove into the snowy night.
Big Town Bowling Lanes was the one respite from Steve's carousel of women when you were in high school. It was like it had sacred wards carved into the foundation, forbidding him from bringing annoying skanks along whenever you went bowling with Carol and Tommy.
Or, maybe, it was just because it was four people per lane and Carol wouldn't let him kick you out to bring some girl. Either way, you relished in your weekends spent at the lanes. Tommy and Steve always took it way too seriously, and you always wound up barely edging Steve out in scores.
Darrell, who worked the concessions stand, would pour beers into styrofoam cups so you could pretend they were sodas, just as long as you tipped him nicely. It was a pleasant surprise to find him still behind the counter, and still willing to sell beers to underage drinkers like you and Steve.
A few teenagers were trying their hand at the open mic night while you waited for a lane to open up— singing Madonna and Paula Abdul and a few other top 40 songs. It wasn't the best background music, but the liveliness reminded you of your friends. It was a welcome reprieve from the constant sobriety of the end of the world and parenthood.
"Pinball while we wait?" Steve suggested. You fished around your purse for a couple of quarters and leaned against the machine while he played. Tommy had always been better than him at this exact machine, but Steve knew all the targets and how to get multipliers. Plus, it was nice to look at his handsome face lit up by the flashing lights.
You used a quarter to try the claw machine beside him— another thing Tommy had excelled at. He'd taught you all the tricks to get a prize every time, and even though you were out of practice, it was a bit like riding a bike. While Steve got a second ball in the playing field, the claw caught on a gorilla's arm and carried it to the prize chute. You put in another quarter and won a second one for Sam.
The bowling alley was packed— there wasn't much else to do in a quarantine. To make up time, you signed the two of you up for the open mic, where you fumbled your way through You're The One That I Want from Grease. Steve still hated Travolta, and still had a much better singing voice than you did. When the lanes still stayed full, you sang Don't You Want Me very, very badly.
Darrell poured you both beers, and you were about to just give up and call it a night when the lane you'd been desperately waiting for opened up. Already, enough time had passed that you were itching under your skin with anticipation about getting home, so you weren't exactly focused on bowling.
You watched Steve step up to the lanes each frame as you sipped at your beer, eyes on the way his jeans clung tight to his ass, the way his fingers slid into the bright green house ball. Your pulse fluttered at the sight, and your brain went a little fuzzy.
God, you needed to get laid.
You took another drink as he threw the ball down the lane and the pins crashed at contact. Strike. He spun around, a smug grin on his lips, and marked an X on the scorecard.
"That's three in a row, baby. I'm going for a perfect game," he insisted, smacking a kiss on your forehead. You blinked yourself from your horny stupor and nodded. You took another drink of beer and took your turn.
You were distracted by his stupid hands and handsome face. Frankly, you were regretting bringing up bowling as an option, because you were stupidly needy and eager to get him back home so you could get your hands on him. You knocked down seven pins, then threw into the gutter on your attempt to pick up the spare.
"You're not giving me much competition, honey," he said as you sat back down, grinning smugly. You shook your head and rolled your eyes, leaning into his side, but as soon as you had cuddled up against him, he was back up and on the lanes.
You gave a strained smile and a thumbs up, and watched as, sure enough, he threw a clean strike. His excitement was palpable, as was his ego. He looked like he was back on the basketball court in high school after he'd shot a successful three-pointer.
When he sat down, you leaned into his side and put a hand on his thigh. He kissed your forehead, then nodded towards the lane. "Stop stalling 'cause you know I'm going to beat you," he said, completely oblivious to your intentions.
You sighed and stood, heading back to the lane. This time you managed to get a spare, which was met by a very sarcastic clap from your boyfriend. He stood, not even giving you time to sit beside him before he was up again.
Steve took competition very seriously, and you knew that. He had barely even sipped at his beer so he could keep his focus. Partially, you appreciated that he wasn't going easy on you as a form of flattery, but you also wanted a little more attention.
There was something cute about him getting all worked up and focused about it. The way his tongue peeked out in concentration as he wrote scores, how he'd turn around and give you a smug smile at the end of each frame. You were bowling in a technical sense, but really you were taking it as your opportunity to relish in the ghost of King Steve before you.
"Why don't you help me correct my form?" You asked him as the game neared its end, slipping your fingertips inside the V-neck of his collared shirt. His heart thrummed against your touch, beneath the soft chest hair and spattering of beauty marks hidden beneath. "Hm? Give me a fighting chance."
He swallowed hard, his warm brown eyes going wide. "You want me to… oh! Yeah, I'll just… yeah, I'll help you."
With a grin, you stood and pulled him to the lane and grabbed the ball. "Okay, so… you want to line up with the dots on the ground," he began.
You nodded and sighed contentedly as he fit himself against your back. "Start back here, and you walk to gain some momentum. And before you're at the line, you pull your arm back, and throw."
He guided your motions as best as he could with a twelve pound ball in your hands. But it wasn't the actual advice you wanted— you knew how to throw a bowling ball down a lane— you wanted the close press of his body against yours.
"Got it?" His breath puffed over your ear and you shivered. You nodded and he stepped back. "Show me."
You rolled the ball down the lane and grinned victoriously when nine pins came down. You turned on the balls of your feet and met his gaze, hands clasped behind your back.
He sat back, seemingly less interested in the actual sport of bowling now that he had you blatantly flirting with him, in a cute little skirt and an oversized blazer that you definitely stole from his dad's closet. You'd even put a little brooch on it— two interlocking gold hearts and a dangly little pearl.
"What are you gonna give me if I make the spare?" You asked with a coy smile. "I think I deserve a prize for my hard work."
He shrugged casually and nodded back to the prize counter, where a bored employee sat with her chin in her hand and read Seventeen. "Maybe you can get one of those slap bracelets."
You rolled your eyes. "Hm… not quite what I was thinking."
"I just think it's a waste of a prize if whatever you're asking for is something you're going to get anyway." He gave you a smug smile and you could do little more than laugh and shake your head.
You picked up the spare, and your temporary reward was a slow, hungry kiss when you joined him on the couch. Really, you should have been a little embarrassed by the fact that you were french kissing Steve in the middle of the bowling alley, but you were too drunk on him to care. His hands slid under your jacket, teasing the waistband of your skirt where your sweater was tucked in.
"Hey, I should probably finish this game," he pulled back suddenly, glancing at the lane. His thumb brushed under your bottom lip, tidying up your smudged lipstick. "I'm, like, five strikes from a perfect score."
You sat back, brows furrowed, bottom still tingling from the way he'd bitten it. "Wait, what?"
He held up the score sheet. Sure enough, while you'd been staring at his ass and drooling over the veins in his hands, he'd managed to pull off seven strikes in a row. Fuck… maybe he had been letting you win in high school.
"Wow… sexy," you deadpanned, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked really proud of himself when he bowled another strike.
"You must be, like, my lucky charm," he said, planting another kiss on your lips. "This is the universe telling me you're the one."
By the time you finally made it back to the car, Steve had his picture framed on the wall of Big Town Lanes, a tiny plastic trophy, and a rainbow slap bracelet he'd asked for from the prize counter.
"Hold out your wrist," he said. With an amused huff, you held out your arm and tensed in anticipation. "C'mon, don't be a baby, it's just a bracelet." He slapped it onto your wrist and you shrieked, yanking your hand back.
"You were right, bowling was fun," he said. "And I did totally kick your ass. I'm gonna have to ask Henderson the odds on bowling a perfect game. Maybe we should go buy a scratcher or something."
You laughed, shaking your head. It was something else you loved about Steve— he was naturally funny. He could make you laugh until your sides hurt, especially now that you weren't denying your feelings for him. Well, not like you were before, at least.
"Alright, champ, let's get home," you said with an affectionate eye-roll. "It's freezing."
The house felt a little less like home when you walked inside. It was cold and still, like a dollhouse. You wondered if it was how Steve felt growing up alone most of the time. You couldn't ask, because Steve hated feeling pitied, but you could wonder.
As you got settled, Steve put his trophy down on the counter and you eased off your coat and went to check the answering machine. "Hi sweethearts. Samantha was a perfect angel. She had some meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, then watched the Care Bears movie on tape with Uncle Dusty. She's just gone down for the night, and I know she can't wait to see you in the morning. Enjoy your night, you two!"
You smiled fondly at the message and turned to face Steve with a smile. "Hear that? We've raised a perfect angel," you said with a tiny laugh. He was pouring glasses of wine into the pretty crystal that typically sat unused in the china cabinet. The deep red looked so inviting behind the etched glass, especially after cheap beer.
"Of course we did, you're a great mom," he said, and handed you the glass. Your fingers brushed against his as you accepted it into your own hand, just for a fleeting moment. "Feels weird having the house empty, huh?"
You brought the glass to your lips and took a slow sip. "Really weird," you agreed. "Not bad, just different."
He nodded and took a drink of his own. You both stood in the dark kitchen, lit only by the street lamps outside the window— a pale yellow glow. You finished your glass and felt a pleasant warmth all over— a buzz under your skin. His parents' wine collection was fancy enough that you actually enjoyed drinking it, unlike the cheap boxed stuff that you and Carol used to share.
"Wanna listen to some music on the couch?" He asked finally. "I have some pretty great mixes. Working at the station means I get access to all of the good stuff."
You snorted at the thought of Steve slacking off and making mixes on the clock. "Your big move right now is asking if I want to listen to music on the couch?"
"Well, it's a really good mix," he insisted with a stupid grin. You shook your head and put your empty glass back on the counter with full intentions to revisit it later.
You knew this move in his playbook, and you were totally shameless about the fact that it was actually going to work on you. So you let him lead you over to the couch, and sat patiently while he messed around with the fancy sound system hidden in the bookshelves.
He clicked the tape into place and joined you on the couch just as the sound of a synth started playing. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh as he slung an arm across the back of the couch, so his fingers brushed against your shoulder. It was just so obvious.
You shivered as his fingers played with the ends of your hair, twirling them around his fingertips. That was the invitation he needed. You grinned as he tugged you into his side, wrapping his arm tight around you. "Cold? Need me to warm you up?"
It was so corny. You figured this was a move of his, tried and true, but you didn't mind. Really, you had always wondered what the Steve Harrington hookup experience was like.
So you nodded and let him pull you into his lap where he was nice and warm beneath you. "'S that better?" He asked. Big hands settled on your arms, moving up and down in a showy attempt to warm you up.
"Mhmm… but maybe I'm a little hot now," you said, playing right into his hand. At that, his expression perked up, and you could sense his excitement in the way his eyes lit up.
"Yeah? Gotta get this off then, huh?" He tugged at the thick fabric of your sweater, right below your ribcage. As soon as you nodded, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt and untucked your sweater so he could pull it over your head and toss it mindlessly aside.
It totally fucked up your hair, but neither of you seemed to mind. Steve's eyes flicked to your breasts, the soft flesh encased in delicate black lace. You ran a hand over your unkempt hair in a nervous attempt to make yourself presentable again while he just stared.
"Where'd you get this?" he asked, meeting your gaze. "Did you send Murray out for it?"
Your expression scrunched in distaste. "Ew, no, why would I ever ask him for that?" You muttered. "I got this at school."
He swallowed hard, and you sighed softly as his warm hands moved up your ribs to cup your breasts through the lace. "You wore this for some college guy?"
You really had to steel your expression to keep from grinning. There was something exciting about the hint of jealousy in his gaze, the tiniest tick in his jaw. "I wasn't exactly celibate in college," you said slowly. His fingers flexed and you exhaled shakily as he played with you. "If you'll remember, I was heartbroken and trying to put this total asshole in Hawkins behind me."
His lips turned into what you could only describe as a pout, just before he moved his mouth to your sternum, pressing soft kisses to the flat of your chest. You would never tell another soul, but giving Steve a taste of his own medicine was immeasurably cathartic.
"If the fact that another guy saw this bothers you so much, you can just take it off," you added. He sighed against your skin, and you moaned softly as his lips trailed hot, messy kisses over the thin fabric.
He shook his head, nuzzling his face deeper into your tits. He mumbled something that you couldn't understand and met your gaze. "I'm not jealous," he insisted. "I just feel like they probably didn't appreciate your effort."
You couldn't keep the smug grin from your lips. "No?" You asked, cocking your head. "But you appreciate it fully, right?" He nodded and sucked a bruise onto your exposed cleavage.
"I appreciate it so much." His voice vibrated against your skin, making you laugh softly. When he pulled back from your tits, his pupils were blown with desire. He gave a tiny nod towards your skirt before dragging his eyes back to yours. "Do they match?"
In lieu of a response, you stood up and unzipped your skirt, so it joined your discarded sweater on the floor. Steve groaned at the sight of you in your sheer red tights, barely concealing the promise of more black lace beneath— high cut and pretty.
Before you could slip your fingers under the waistband to roll the tights down, Steve grabbed your wrist. "I've got it," he said. "It's like unwrapping a present."
He kissed your stomach once, twice, then eased the tights down your legs. His hand came under your knee, easing it into a gentle bend so he could pull one leg off your feet, then he repeated for the other.
There was a certain intentionality to every one of his touches— a confidence that showed in the steadiness of his hand as he ran his hand up your thigh. It was gentle and sure— intimate.
His hands slid up your thighs and pulled you in closer, so his mouth was level with your lower stomach. You sighed when he ducked his head and kissed the front of your panties, nice and sweet.
"Wait," you said suddenly. He looked up at you with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, and you swear you got a head rush. "Just sit there for me, okay?"
You swore you could hear his pulse kick when you sank to your knees between his thighs, or maybe that was your own. Your palms slid up his thighs, moving over the dark-wash denim. He was already hard, you could see the thick shape of him straining against the fabric.
"Can I?" You asked. One hand rubbed at the bulge beneath your palm, the other toyed mindlessly with the button to his jeans.
"Fuck— yeah, 'course you can, honey. You can do whatever you want to me."
You smiled prettily up at him and popped the button of his Levi's. He groaned at even the lightest amount of pressure against his dick as you eased the zipper down and freed him from the confines of the denim.
You'd seen his dick before— in the shower, while he was changing, even how it looked in your hand. Even so, you'd never seen it so close before. You spit into your palm before you wrapped your hand around the base of him, relishing in the warm pulse beneath your grip.
With just the slightest glide of your hand upwards, you watched precum dribble from the ruddy tip. He groaned, hips thrusting up into your grasp. He squirmed as he kicked off his jeans and briefs, then tossed his sweater to the side. Your hand caressed his now-bare thigh, soft and downy to the touch.
"You have the cutest little freckle right here," you said with a tiny grin, and relished in the way his cheeks went red with embarrassment. Your lips moved to the base of him, where there was a small beauty mark. He shivered above you as you planted a soft, wet kiss there and looked up at him through your lashes.
"Fuck," he groaned, chest already heaving. "You're killing me, honey."
Your lips trailed up his shaft, until you wrapped your lips around his tip and suckled. He moaned, deep and pretty, head lolling back against the cushions. It was hard to fit much of him inside of your mouth without triggering your gag reflex. Your hand had to pick up your slack, stroking the inches that didn't fit with slick twists.
"God, you're good," he panted. "So good for me." You nearly preened at the praise. His fingers threaded into your curls, twisting your locks into a loose ponytail. Not so he could guide your pace or force you to take him deeper, but to keep your hair from getting in your face.
You pulled off, just to spit the drool that had collected in your mouth back onto his cock. It dripped messily down his shaft and over your fingers, collecting at his base and dripping down his balls. You moved your mouth down to them, licking up the mess you made just to hear him cry out above you.
He swore under his breath as you licked up the underside of his cock once more on your way up, tasting the slick mix of his precum and your spit. You pressed an almost chaste kiss to the head— once, twice before you teased the precum-slick slit with your tongue.
He exhaled sharply through his teeth. hips bucking up towards the wet heat of your mouth. You licked around the tip, teasing a pretty moan out of his lips. When you finally wrapped your lips around him and took him deeper into your mouth, his thighs tensed on either side of you.
You were incredibly grateful that you had the experience you did before Steve, otherwise you'd probably humiliate yourself. Your lips stretched to accommodate him as you tried to take him deeper, and you had the experience to know exactly how to fight your gag reflex as his cock nudged your soft palate.
"Keep going, just like that," he panted, tummy tensing as you let your tongue massage the underside of his shaft. "God, you've got a perfect fucking mouth."
When your jaw began to ache, you pulled back, lips puffy and sticky with spit. You pumped his cock in your fist as you took a second to catch your breath. His free hand moved to your face, where he stroked your cheek tenderly.
You wet your lips before you took him back into your mouth, suckling softly on the head of his cock briefly before you swallowed him deeper.
You were sure the sight was obscene— your lips stretched wide around his girth, spit bubbling around the spot where your mouth and fist met with each messy bob of your head and twist of your wrist. His moans we're constant, and the taste of his precum was heady on your tongue.
When his fingers tightened around your hair, you moaned around him, eyes fluttering. He panted out a pathetic moan at the sound, at the feeling of your own noise vibrating against him. He was so close, you knew it. His thighs tensing, his moans getting breathier, his hips canting up as they tried to bury his cock deep into your mouth.
You looked up, meeting his half-lidded gaze as you swallowed around him, and he was done for. He barely had time to give you a weak warning of, "gonna cum—" before he was spilling into your mouth.
You did your best to swallow every spurt of cum that painted your tongue and work him through every last aftershock. You were panting like you'd run a marathon when you finally sat back and wiped your sticky lips on the back of your hand.
Steve's eyes were closed, one arm tossed over them as he caught his breath, cock flagging between strong thighs as he came down. When he finally opened his eyes, you kissed a beauty mark on his inner thigh and stood.
"Sick of me already?" He asked with a grin. He grabbed your hand and tugged you onto his lap, but you shook your head and leaned back.
"I was gonna grab some mouthwash before we do anything else," you explained with a sheepish laugh. "So it's not gross for you, I mean."
He shook his head and let his arm move to the small of your back to ease you closer. You sighed softly as he pressed his lips to yours, licking slowly into your mouth. "I don't care," he murmured. Then, like he was trying to prove his own point, he licked your pouty bottom lip with a grin. "That's, like, the least gross thing you could ask me to do."
"Yeah?" You asked with a grin. "You're such a slut."
You watched him close his mouth and swallow, pupils blown as his eyes flicked from your lips and back to your eyes. He laughed weakly, but you knew he was so gone that he'd agree with anything you said. You leaned in, laving your tongue over his as you kissed him slow and deep.
It was messy and desperate, but you didn't care. His head tilted back, and you took every opportunity he gave you to kiss deeper, to lick into his mouth and claim the space for your own. His hands slipped down to palm your ass over the lace, squeezing and tugging you closer on his lap.
"Are you gonna let me touch you?" He murmured against your lips. You nodded, and he licked your bottom lip before a smile spread across his lips. "Yeah? I bet you're soaking through your panties right now. Probably why you're sitting up like that— so I can't feel it."
He eased you back so you were laying on the couch beneath him. His mouth went to your throat, suckling softly on the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. With his knee between your thigh, you couldn't help but squirm, seeking a little bit of relief where you needed it most.
You hated to be so easy for him all of the time. You wanted to look a little more composed and in control, but Steve had a way of making your inhibitions melt away and drip down your thighs.
"You drive me crazy, Steve," you murmured, your words little more than desperate pants in his ear. As his hand moved down your torso, you arched into him, seeking the heat of it against your body.
The feeling of his fingers slipping beneath the lace of your panties pulled a whiny mewl from your lips. The rough pads of his fingers rubbed over your sensitive clit, just barely grazing it before dipping down to your slick entrance.
"So wet and I've barely even touched you." His words vibrated against your jaw, and he punctuated them with a soft kiss. He nudged your thighs apart with his knee, giving him better access to toy with you.
A shudder ran through you as he slid his slick fingers up to your clit, only to circle his fingers so he totally avoided giving you any real friction. "C'mon, Steve," you whined. "I didn't tease you."
He laughed, a low, pretty sound that tickled your throat. "You're always a tease."
"You jerked off in front of me yesterday," you panted, bucking your hips with the feeble hope that you might catch the pad of his fingers where you wanted them. "Didn't let me touch you for a week. Fuckin' tease."
You could feel his smile against your skin, but, sure enough, he relented and gave you what you wanted. You gasped softly as he finally rubbed your clit, a pretty noise that he swallowed up in a hungry kiss.
His tongue slipped into your mouth, lapping up each whine and moan as he played with your pussy. Thick fingers rubbing through your slick folds, curling deep inside of your aching entrance.
"That's what you wanted, yeah?" He murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed, curling until your walls squeezed around them. "Mhmm… I can feel it. You're always so sensitive for me."
The sound of his fingers plunging in and out of your sopping cunt made your cheeks burn. It felt pointless, being so embarrassed at the effect that he had on you. He was just as affected by you as you were of him… but you couldn't hear how turned on he was with every single thrust of his fingers inside of you.
You grabbed onto his shoulders with one hand, blunt fingernails digging into the firm muscle there to ground yourself as he fucked you slow and deep with his fingers. Your other hand moved down, squeezing his wrist in an impossible choice of needing more but feeling too much.
The heel of his palm rubbed against your clit, giving you relentless friction and pressure that you couldn't squirm away from. Your thighs trembled, walls fluttering around the intrusion as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
The lap of his tongue into your mouth kept you from slipping away entirely. Sweet, sensual kisses that kept you there with him, relishing in the full-body high of being worshiped by Steve Harrington.
You felt that warm buzz in the pit of your stomach, a pressure just building and building until you couldn't deny its pull anymore. Gasping into Steve's mouth, you squeezed his wrist and bucked against his hand as he brought you over the edge.
"That's it, pretty girl," he hummed. Your eyes fluttered, rolling lightly as he curled his fingers, toying with you as the final waves of pleasure wracked your body. "That's what you needed, huh?"
When he pulled his hand from your panties, his fingers were slick with your juices. He wasted no time sucking them between his lips, cleaning every trace of you off.
He laid beside you, tracing spit-damp fingers along your tummy as his mixtape played on. You'd been so wrapped up in Steve that the music had gone fuzzy in the background. But now that you were fully back in your body, all fuzzy and content, the sound of saxophones struck you fully. With a giggle, you met his gaze. "Careless Whisper?" You asked with a grin. "You're so corny."
"Hey, it's the best," he insisted. "It's sexy."
You rolled your eyes and grinned up at him before you leaned up an kissed him again. He smiled into it, meeting your lips with the ease and confidence of a man who knew he had all of the time in the world with you.
You didn't want to wait another second. You shifted, pinning him beneath you on the cushions. He was hard already, and you had a feeling he had been for a while. As you stripped off your bra and tossed it aside, you watched his cock twitch where it rested against his stomach.
"Looks like you really want me," you teased, like you didn't want him just as bad. "Do you have it in you, baby?"
He swallowed hard and nodded. "Fuck, yeah I do," he breathed. His hands moved to your hips, and you didn't resist as he guided your hips in a slow grind. It was a little obscene, the sight of your clothed pussy rubbing over his bare cock. Precum beaded then dripped onto his stomach, making a slick little pool beneath the head that only seemed to grow with each lazy rut. "You gonna give it to me?"
Steve's pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you, swallowing up the honey-brown of his irises. He really did drive you crazy. Really, how was it fair that he could just look at you like that? Desperate and doting in equal measure.
You detached from him to wiggle off your panties, balancing against the back of the sofa as you kicked them off, then settled on his lap once more. His big hands went right back to their place on your hips and you couldn't help but give a testing roll of your hips.
Even with that tiny motion, you felt his fingers flex, dimpling your soft skin. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock nudging your clit, still sensitive from the first orgasm he'd pulled from you. You felt your cunt pulsing with need as you continued to slowly grind down against him.
"You're torturing me," he whined. His eyes were half-lidded and lazy, his mouth parted as he watched your slick pussy gliding along his length. One of your hand rested on his chest for stability as you moved, giving him the perfect view of your tits as they moved in time with your hips. "God, you're so hot, honey. Just wanna make you feel good, baby. You've gotta let me, 'cause I know you need it."
A breathy laugh escaped your lips as you looked down at him. "I barely have to do anything and you're begging," you teased. He groaned, grinding up against you, unabashed in his need.
And, yeah, it would've been fun to keep torturing him, but you were still just as impatient as he was. So you lifted your hips just enough that you could guide his cock to your entrance and begin to slowly sink down.
He felt even bigger with you on top, something you'd blissfully forgotten since your wedding hookup. It made you wonder if he had gone easy on you the week prior and hadn't tried to go all the way in. It felt like a challenge to prove you could take it— every single inch.
Your fingers twitched against his chest, curling into the downy hair there as your mouth fell open. He moved one of the hands resting on your hips to lay on top of yours, frustratingly affectionate. "C'mon, honey, just take it nice and slow."
"Shut up," you panted, which only made him grin up at you. "I've done it before."
It wasn't like riding Steve was some herculean task, even if he was stupidly hung. But you were more than a little out of practice, and after you finally managed to pick up a decent rhythm, you kind of just wanted him to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions.
You weren't a quitter though, and Steve's blissed-out reactions beneath you were all the encouragement you needed to keep going, aside from your body's need for release. Your thighs ached slightly from months of celibacy, but the room filled with a chorus of both of your moans each time you sank back onto him.
"You feel so good, baby," you moaned softly, giving your hips a little swivel that made a drawn out groan spill from his lips. "I love how you feel inside of me. So deep."
It wasn't just to fluff his ego— you swore you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock where it was buried within you. Every pulse, every twitch was just confirmation that he felt as good as you did.
The hand that was gripping onto your hip moved, flattening just beneath your belly button. It's as tender as it was debauched, just like him. His thumb stroked over your soft skin, sweeping back and forth in a display of affection. "Feel me here?" He asked, and it was a marvel that he could look so earnest when asking something so filthy.
You nodded, giving a slow rock of your hips. He was so deep that you could hardly think of anything else except for the drag of his cock against your fluttering walls, the way his tip nudged against your G-spot as you sank down on him again and again.
"Steve," you whined, looking down at him. "I want you to fuck me."
A lazy smile spread across his lips. "We are fucking." As if he was proving his point, he began to thrust up so he could sink deeper into your wet heat.
Your brows knit together as a soft moan fell from your lips. "Yeah, I— fuck, Steve— I know but I just want—" Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you nice and deep, stealing the words and your breath right from your lips.
"I know what you want." You almost regretted asking to switch positions when he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting. But then he was shifting you beneath him and hooking your legs over his shoulders. "How's this?"
You swallowed hard. "It's good, it's so good," you said eagerly. You could feel the head of his cock nudging your puffy folds as he rutted against you. It would catch at your entrance and you would gasp in anticipation, but he didn't sink in yet.
"Can you bend a little more?" He asked, and moved so he was pressing your thighs into your chest, his body imposing above you. "Is that too much?"
When you shook your head, reached between your bodies and began to slowly push inside. You groaned, head lolling back as he moved. With the way he'd folded you in half beneath him, you felt every inch splitting you open. Thick, stretching you out obscenely around his girth.
"Oh god," he groaned, and you swore you felt his dick twitch inside of you. "You're squeezing me so tight. Perfect fucking pussy."
Your face went hot at his words. "Steve," you whined. He'd never said anything so dirty to you before, and it thrilled you as much as it made you feel a flash of embarrassment.
He grinned down at you, pulling out so he could glide back in nice and slow, just to torture you. "What? You don't want me to talk about how much I love your pussy? 'Cause the way you're gripping me makes me think you do."
"Fuck, Steve," you moaned. "You can't say stuff like that, baby. You're killing me."
"I think you like it," he said, pushing in again, so deep that his balls pressed tight against your ass. "I think you fucking love knowing that I'm obsessed with you."
He pulled out again, only to set a dizzying pace. Hips snapping against yours again and again and again, while you just laid there and took it. Your feet dangled where they rested over his shoulders, shaking each time he bottomed out.
"Oh my god. You're so wet, honey. Sound so fucking pretty."
His words made you conscious of the tacky, slick sounds of his cock plunging into your cunt. The slick sound of your walls swallowing him, the plap plap plap of his balls against you. You didn't particularly think the sounds of him fucking you were pretty. They were pornographic and obscene, sure, but not pretty.
He was heavy on top of you, rutting more than thrusting so each movement made him grind against the sensitive spots inside. Your eyes rolled back and you felt your walls squeezing around his cock. "Steve, just like that—"
"C'mon, beautiful, tell me how it feels."
You whined, toes curling. "So— ngh— so good, baby," you managed. "God, I feel you everywhere."
It wasn't the most coherent description, but it was true. He was inside you, so deep it felt like your body was moving to accommodate him. He was on top of you, pressing you into the bed, into him. Around you, holding you close. It was like your world started and ended where you touched him.
It was so easy to lose yourself to him. His head buried into your shoulder as he ground deeper, harder inside of you. A choked sob slipped past your lips, and you trembled as the pressure built up inside of you. His tip nudged your sweet spot over and over, until you weren't sure you could take much more.
"God, I fucking love you," he panted. Your pussy fluttered around him at those words, and he moaned at the feeling. "Want me to say it again? I love you so much."
It hit you suddenly then. Your cunt clenched around him as euphoria washed over your body. "Oh, fuck, Steve—" you gasped, until your words dissolved into keening moans and whines. You mewled, eyes rolling back as he continued fucking into you as you lost yourself to the pleasure.
He lifted his head just enough to capture your mouth in a messy kiss— tongues sliding against one another, licking into his mouth to swallow each other's cries. His rhythm grew sloppy and clumsy, until he swore into your mouth.
"Oh, fuck, honey, shit— I'm— fuck fuck fuck—" He barely managed to pull out before he was painting your cunt with hot ropes of his cum. His cock twitched with each spurt of cum, until there was nothing left to give. He exhaled sharply, looking more than spent as he eased your legs from his shoulders and caught his breath.
The tape had long since ended, leaving you in silence, save the chorus of your shaking breaths. You giggled weakly and peered up at him with a dopey smile. "Holy shit."
Steve took a shaky breath and met your smile with one of his own— equal parts exasperated and lovestruck. "God, we really can't go raw anymore, baby. I almost didn't make it."
Your heart did a funny little skip at that, but you nodded. "Yeah, probably shouldn't," you agreed. He leaned down to give you one more kiss. "Let's go to bed, yeah?"
Steve couldn't keep his hands off of you, even when you were just washing your face and brushing your teeth. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and dribbled minty foam down his chin. You hated how endearing you found that.
When you were taking your vitamins and medicine, he stood behind you, chin resting on the top of your head as you washed them down. "You're so clingy," you accused, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
"I just love you," he replied, and kissed your temple for good measure.
You climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling as Steve dozed beside you. The soft cadence of his breath rising and falling. But you didn't want to sleep yet. You just wanted more time with him.
So you grabbed the shabby quilt from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around your body as you crossed the room to your turntable. Behind you, there was the soft rustle of blankets as Steve sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"What're you doing?" He slurred sleepily. You glanced at him over your shoulder, at his half-lidded eyes and his messy hair, and felt such a strong tug of emotion that you had to look back at the task at hand— flipping through your crate of records.
"Trying to find something good to listen to," you replied casually, pausing to eye Purple Rain before flipping onward. "I'm not tired yet— don't really want the night to be over, y'know?" You grabbed your old Super Trouper album and smiled fondly as you set it on the turntable and put the needle to the vinyl.
Steve groaned at the choice in music, but you rejoined him in bed, curling up against his chest with a contented sigh. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His fingers tangled with yours, playing with them as you laid in the quiet of the room.
"I want you to tell me something no one else knows," you whispered. "Even if it's just something small."
He leaned over, kissing the crown of your head briefly. You felt the warm puff of his breath over your scalp as he thought, a hum buzzing against your skin.
"I made you a tape, in case Vecna got in your head and started digging around," he said finally. "This was, like, a month after Hawkins split open, so we thought he might just start popping people into trances all over town. And I was so scared for you, y'know? I didn't want anything to happen to you."
A tiny smile played on your lips. Even when you felt like your whole life had shattered around you, he was still working to make things better, even if you didn't know it. You hated that it had taken you so long to see that, when it was something so beautiful about him.
"What song?" You asked after a beat, brows furrowing.
He laughed softly. "Well, I asked you what your favorite song was over breakfast, you glared at me, asked why I cared, and told me Baby I'm a Star. And I didn't really know if that was true, but I made the tape anyway. And then I made a second one with How Deep Is Your Love, because you used to say if that song was played at your funeral, it'd wake you right up."
A snort escaped you at the memory. You could remember him asking, and it felt like such a cheap attempt to bond that it had soured your mood for the rest of the morning. You felt a world removed from that moment, even though it hadn't even been a year since then.
"It actually would," you agreed. You squeezed his hand and brought the back of it to your lips to plant a soft kiss there. He had a tan line from his watch that was only just starting to fade from the winter gloom. It was so strange, to be so utterly seen by someone, and to see them just the same.
"What's your song?" Your lips brushed against the back of his hand as you spoke. "If you got lost, what would pull you back?"
"Under Pressure," he replied simply. "Sometimes I'll play that tape in the van just 'cause. I could listen to that song forever, y'know? Drives Dustin crazy."
A small laugh escaped you at the image. Maybe it was just that it was late and you were exhausted, but you were endlessly amused by the thought of Steve making Dustin listen to music on replay on top of the monotony of the crawls. "Tell me something else. Talk to me about anything, I just want to hear you."
He sighed, relaxing beside you. He was so warm where he pressed against you, accommodating the nudge of your knee between his thighs and the slip of your arm under his. The soft thud of his heartbeat was like a metronome where your ear rested against his chest.
"Mrs. Wheeler said she'd start babysitting Sam for us, if that's what we wanted," he said. "I was going to tell you tomorrow, after we'd had the date and everything. I know you never wanted to just sit around this big house all day, so I told her we'd talk about it."
You swallowed hard, and felt a strange mix of excitement, gratitude, and the strangest ache in your chest. "I mean… yeah, we could use more money," you agreed. "But I don't even know what I'd do, Steve. Like… bus tables at Enzo's? Work with Murray at Bradley's? Gross."
Both of your bodies shook as he laughed. "God, you're so dramatic. You could do whatever you wanted," he insisted. "You could help us at the station."
You snorted. "Mm… doesn't really solve the money problem, huh?" You curled even closer into him, like you just wanted him to envelop you completely. "And I dunno… maybe I don't want things to change just yet."
Hawkins was like a world frozen while life moved around it. It was all real life with real consequences, and you knew that, but it also felt like you were holding your breath until all of the interdimensional horror was over. Once that happened, the day to day problems would feel bigger.
You didn't want to leave Sam with Mrs. Wheeler during the day, but you knew that was probably best. Rip off the proverbial bandaid and start the slow process of detaching from your routine before things really changed for good. You were never meant to be a housewife forever— it wasn't what you wanted, even if you'd gotten good at playing that role.
Steve kissed the crown of your head and squeezed your hand. "They don't have to change," he insisted. "But they can if you need them to. I just don't ever want you to feel like you're trapped, or you're making yourself smaller to fit here."
"Thanks," you whispered. "I just feel like I need a little more time with her. When things go back to normal, I don't know if I'll ever have this much time again. I feel like she deserves it."
The record played on while you continued to talk about anything you could think of. Steve had been watching the Bulls whenever he could catch a game on TV, and was eagerly trying to explain why he thought this was their year. You told him about the Danielle Steel novel you'd borrowed from Nancy and were totally devouring. He played with the ends of your hair, you planted the occasional kiss to his chest and shoulders.
You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of ABBA playing from your speakers. "In five years, I want to be doing this exact same thing," you whispered. "Listening to an outdated record, laying in bed, just talking until we run out of things to say."
"Why don't we make it ten?" Steve mumbled against the crown of your head. You smiled and chewed on your lip. Ten could work. Or twenty-five, or fifty. Forever, even.
The needle of the record stopped, raised, and returned to its cradle, leaving the room quiet. "Steve," you whispered. It felt louder in the stillness of the bedroom— breaking through the silence of the house the same way a scream would. "I love you too."
The words hung heavy in the air, and Steve froze at your side, barely even breathing. Waiting for him to say something, anything felt like torture. And you knew you'd squeezed the proverbial toothpaste out of the tube, but really, you didn't mind. Life was already so messy that it felt natural.
"You love me," he echoed. Not a question, exactly, and not self-important enough to be a statement… just sheer disbelief.
And you wouldn't stand for that, so you rambled on. "I was just scared to say it, and I kept telling myself it was too soon because we've only been official, for, like, one week, but, y'know, things are different for us. I don't want to hide behind walls to protect myself anymore, and I know that y—"
Your words were muffled by the pressure of Steve's lips on yours. You barely had time to kiss him back before he leaned away to meet your gaze. "You love me?" He beamed down at you. "You don't have to. I mean— I just didn't expect you to reciprocate so soon."
"How could I not?" You asked gently, meeting his gaze. It was so soft and hopeful, warm enough to melt away your fears and reservations about opening up. "Even when I wasn't saying it, I felt it, y'know? This… rightness. And I felt bad for a while, but I don't want to feel bad anymore."
It was this circular logic that you kept falling into— the idea that fate had brought you to that moment. You'd never been a big believer in anything before, except in yourself, Carol Perkins, and that things usually went wrong for you somehow. Fate was new.
Carol got pregnant with Sam, which meant she had to get married, which is where you slept with Steve and dredged up all of those old teenage feelings again— the yearning and angst. Carol and Tommy made you and Steve godparents, Carol and Tommy died when the rifts opened, you and Steve raised Peanut, you and Steve fell in love.
Good things happened which led to worse things. Horrible, painful things happened that led to beautiful ones. How could you ever move on if you let guilt and anger keep you from being happy?
You believed in a lot more now. You believed that there were good people who would give up their peace thanklessly to save a world that would never even know they needed to be saved. You believed in psychic powers and monsters. You believed that your daughter's near-toothless smile was the best medicine on a really hard day.
And you believed, as corny as it was, that you were always meant to be with Steve Harrington from the moment he sat with you out on that patio.
"Oh my god, you love me," he repeated, smiling even wider. Before you even had time to roll your eyes and insist that, yeah, that's what you just said, he had shifted on top of you so he could kiss you fully. "I mean, I probably should have known when you came just from me saying it, but—"
You rolled your eyes and pulled him in again, relishing in the full weight of his affection as your lips met. You'd worried before that it would feel like a burden on you, some awful weight to carry on your shoulders, but it felt right in a way few things ever had.
A/N: Thank you so much for your patience and continued love for these characters + this fic! As many of you know, I've been getting treatment for my OCD which took a lot of my headspace away from being able to get this out sooner. I appreciate your love and encouragement SO so much and I promise not a single day passed that I wasn't actively working on it!!
I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! Part 6 (the ACTUAL final part) will be a wombo combo of the events of the final season + epilogue from what I have planned now, but I think we all know by now that my plans vs what I actually write don't always align perfectly <3
Worst comes to worst... seven or eight parts. Who knows! But I'm hoping I can tie this story off with a little bow in this next chapter.
Please send me an ask with your thoughts/hopes/opinions on this chapter and the story so far!! Give me a like/reblog/comment if you see fit as well <3 And thank you so, so much for reading! XOXO
steve harrington x fem reader | neighbour!steve | strangers to friends to lovers | slow burn | eventual smut | no upside down
summary: Mrs Wilson, your Grandmother, is the Harrington's next door neighbour. After your Grandfather's passing two years ago, Steve Harrington spends a lot of time with Mrs Wilson, joining her for dinner, taking her to appointments or getting her groceries. When you and your younger sister Julie spend the summer in Hawkins, all you can wonder is, who is Steve Harrington? Why is this high schooler spending so much time with your Grandmother? Why is he spending the rest of his time with Julie’s new friends? After you’re spending every day with him, you realise maybe he isn’t as bad as he seems, but it’s a shame you’re only here for one summer.
an: i've had this idea circling in my head for a while so i'm so excited for the first week to be done!! i'm planning on each week being a different chapter, i can't wait to get into all the details. thank you so much for reading and i really hope you enjoy!!! <3
wc: 18.8k
Monday, June 10th 1985
Somewhere near Louisville, Kentucky
The cold air pouring from the open window of the passenger seat in front of you was enough to keep you awake through this eleven hour drive, the breeze causing your hair to fly over your face and catching between your fingers. You can feel your younger sister Julie curled up beside you, completely folded into herself with her head pressed against the glass window.
You keep one ear of your headphones on and the other side hangs loose, just enough to let in the world around you when you have to. The Police playing softly through them as your fingertips drag along the buttons of your walkman sat on your lap as the fields blur past your window in long, tired stretches of green and gold. You take in a deep breath, taking in the faint smell of old air conditioning and travel sweets that your mom insisted on buying even though none of you really like them.
As your song comes to a pause to play the next track, your ears prick up as your notice your Mom sitting in the seat in front of you speaking in a hushed tone that you notice she’s been using a lot more around you and Julie recently, a tone that doesn’t quite carry the same brightness as it used to. Your Dad only answers when he has to, you can tell by the fixed set of his jaw and the way his hands tighten on the wheel that he’s biting back his words. You look away before either of them notice your staring, turning back to the window as you watch the world moving alongside you.
Hours later, you finally begin to recognise the trees and street signs that flash on the roadside beside you. Hawkins, Indiana. Your Dad turns the car down streets that feel smaller than you remember, you can feel the change before anyone says anything in the way your mom straightens in her seat, the way your Dad slows the car down as if the road suddenly matters more.
You’re 18 now, but you haven’t been back to Hawkins, to your Grandmother’s house in almost 12 years. You’d visit your grandparents a lot when you were younger, but travelling across the country with a baby and your Dad started his new job in Charleston, it got harder to find the time to visit so most summers, they would come and stay with you.
Your Grandmother’s house is the same as you remember from many years ago, maybe even smaller than you remember it. The porch light is already on, even though it’s still light out, and the front garden looks perfectly kept like someone has been tending it even when no one was looking. Before the car had fully pulled to stop, you see your Grandmother open the front door and already making her way outside.
She moved faster than you would expect, her quick steps carrying her down the path with her arms open like she’s been waiting for this longer than she’d admit. Her warm voice carries through your Mom’s open door before she reaches you, slightly breathless like she’s talking and laughing at the same time.
“Finally, I was beginning to think you’d changed your minds!” she laughed gently, pulling your Mom into a hug as your Dad rounds the car to pull out your suitcases.
“Enough of that, Mom. Come here!” Your Mom gleamed as she held onto her mother, you pulled your eyes away to gather your things at your feet as it somehow felt like you were watching a private moment just for the two of them.
Julie stirs beside you, blinking awake slowly like she’s got no idea where she is now. You squeeze her arm gently before you open your door and slip out of it. The summer air feels too heavy for this time in the afternoon, wrapping around you the moment you close the car door. You adjust your bag on your shoulder before slipping your walkman into the open pocket.
“Oh, wow. Look at you,” Your Grandmother says softly, like she’s trying to place the years in your face. “How have you managed to get more beautiful?”
“Hi, Gram.” You return with a small laugh as you greet her with a warm hug. She wrapped her arms around you as if she was making sure you were really there. She pulled back after a moment to take you in again, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear that you’re sure the wind from the car blew out of place.
As Julie made her way out of the car, all attention turned onto her as your grandmother preened over how big she’d grown. It had been a long time since she’d seen Julie, so you figured you’d give them their own moment to catch up. You grabbed your suitcase from your Dad, who was now leaning against the car with his hand on Julie’s shoulder.
You drag the wheels up the gravelly path, knocking on a few stones before you heave it up the few steps leading onto the porch, pushing the front door open with your foot before letting out a small huff of air. The warmth hits you as you enter the house, setting your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs with your bag on top of it before you take a moment to look around.
Nothing has changed, it’s almost as if the house was stuck in 1973 – the last time you were here. The wallpaper covering the walls is softly faded at the edges now, patterned in colours that once looked bright has now settled into something more calm. A faint smell of old wood polish and lavender drifts through the room, clinging to the banister where your hand brushes as you step further in.
The furniture sits exactly where you remember it. Heavy armchairs angled toward a small boxed-in television with a small crocheted blanket folded neatly over the back of the couch like it’s waiting for someone to sit down and use it. The summer sunlight filters through the lace curtains at the front window, casting delicate snowflaked patterns across the carpet and for a moment it feels less like you’ve arrived and more like you’ve stepped back in time.
You’re broken from your trance as a crash and clatter coming from the kitchen pulls you back to earth. You glance behind you through the front door at your parents, grandmother and Julie still catching up by the car. Confused, you hesitantly make your way through the rest of the house toward the kitchen where you’re faced with a man.
Crouched near the kitchen sink like he belongs there, his sleeves pushed up his arms with one of his hands resting against the kitchen counter and the other occupied with a wrench as if he’s mid-task. The cabinet door beneath him hangs slightly askew, like he started fixing it and you’ve rudely interrupted him.
He glances up like he’s been expecting you to walk in, and for a second neither of you say anything. You notice his expression shift slightly to something bright, like your arrival hasn’t surprised him in the slightest.
“Oh, hey. You made it.” He beams, setting the wrench down on the counter next to him like he’s got nowhere else to be before wiping his hands on a cloth that already looks used. He nods slightly toward the fridge, “Do you want some water? Pretty warm out there.”
Before you can answer, he’s already made his way over to open the fridge door as if your response was optional. You can’t help but stand there and watch him as he pulls out a carafe, nudging the fridge door shut with his knee as he makes his way to the shelf to grab a glass to fill it with water for you.
You narrow your eyes at him as he turns back around, holding the frosted glass out toward you like he’s supposed to be here, like he hasn’t just made his way around your grandmother's kitchen like he lives here. You slowly take a step forward to take the glass, your fingers brushing his as you take it from him.
He turns to place the carafe back into the fridge as you take a sip of the water, which feels like heaven after Julie finished the last of yours about 30 miles ago. He then turns back to face you with his hands placed on his hip, leaning against the counter where you found him when you came in.
You’re trying to place him in your head. Have you met him before? Is he a long lost cousin you forgot you had? Why is he here? Maybe he’s just a handyman, fixing your grandmother's sink. You notice his smile, like he can read all of the thoughts racing through your mind a million miles a minute.
“I’m sorry,” You shake your head gently, the reality suddenly hitting you that you haven’t introduced yourself to the repairman helping your grandmother. You offered him your name, with a soft smile as you placed the glass down on the kitchen island in front of you. “I’m Evelyn’s granddaughter, my dad could probably finish this off for you if you want to go enjoy the rest of the day? Like you said, it’s pretty warm out there.”
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head gently before crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m Steve.” He returned, as if that explained everything. The two of you stood there for a moment, you were half waiting for him to pack up his things and go about his day. You had no idea what he was waiting for.
“Okay, Steve,” You spoke with a small nod as you finished off the glass of water Steve had poured for you before walking over to the sink he was standing near to clean up after yourself. “Well, like I said I’m sure my dad won’t mind if you want to finish early. Or if you want to, I guess I’ll get out of your hair.”
He shuffled gently on his heels, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he glanced over at the tools he had laid out on the kitchen island before letting out a short laugh. He brought a hand up to push through his hair, beautiful hair if you had to admit. It was thick and much shinier than yours, you wondered if it would be weird to ask Hawkins’ handyman what shampoo he uses.
“I’m not on the clock, if that’s what you’re thinking,” He replied with a small grin, causing your eyebrows to furrow gently. Your eyes followed his own to look over at his tools on the table, you dried off the glass that you’d just rinsed out before looking up at him again to see him already looking down at you. “I’m not a handyman, I’m actually Evelyn’s –”
Steve’s words were cut off by your grandmother's bright voice calling through the house, “Steve, honey?” Both you and Steve glanced toward the archway of the kitchen as the rest of your family trailed into the house.
Honey? Why is this stranger who’s not a repairman in your grandmother’s house, fixing her broken cabinet, calling him Honey? Oh God, is Steve your grandmother’s boyfriend? Your glance quickly threw back to Steve as you looked at him with an expression you could only imagine resembled that you’d seen a ghost. He must’ve noticed out of the corner of his eye, as he shot you a confused look before placing his hand on your arm as he brushed past you to meet your grandmother on her way into the kitchen.
“Ah, there you are! Steve, this is my daughter, Linda.” You watched carefully as you watched her introduce Steve to your Mom and the rest of the family, your own arms crossing your chest as your mom shook his hand.
You observed as Steve, your Grandmother’s new boyfriend introduced himself to your Mom and sister with ease as if he slotted in perfectly. Even your Dad greeted him with a proud handshake when he appeared after carrying in the rest of the suitcases and bags. You took in a long sigh before pushing yourself off of the counter and making your way to stand behind Julie and place your hands on her shoulders, eyes darting between your grandmother and her boyfriend.
Her hand comes up to press against Steve’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as she speaks gently up at him. “So, you're staying for dinner, Steve? I’m roasting a chicken, your favourite.” She squeezes him again gently as she places a hand on his arm to push past him gently to make her way into the kitchen, the action causing your face to screw up which earns a soft smirk from Steve.
He breathed out a small laugh, shaking his head gently as he looked at you before turning to speak to her. “I’m sorry, I’d love to but I promised Dustin I’d take him to see Police Academy tonight.”
That earns a soft tsk from your Grandmother, waving a hand at him like she’s scolding someone she likes way too much to actually be annoyed at. “Alright, Honey. Thank you for sorting the cabinet out for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Steve shrugged gently as he made his way to the kitchen island where his tools were laid out, beginning to pack his belongings away. “Yeah, well. You say that every time, Mrs. W. You keep giving me things to fix.” He says with a gentle laugh.
“That’s because you keep finding things to fix, Steven.” She shoots back, pointing a wooden spoon at him like it proves her point, the two of them bantering causes a soft laugh from your Mom before she grabs Julie’s attention, that she’d help her with unpacking her things. Your Dad heads outside for a cigarette, so you make your way to the kitchen island and lean over it, your elbows cold against the tile as your chin rests on the palm of your hand as you get a front row ticket to whatever was happening with your Grandmother and Steve.
He laughs under his breath, shrugging gently as he wipes his hands on that same cloth from earlier before shoving it in his pocket. “Somebody’s gotta keep this place from falling apart.” He says with a joke in his tone, his arm gently knocking against hers.
“That’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?” she returns with a soft giggle, causing your own face – yet again – to screw up. When had you ever heard your grandmother giggle like she was a school girl with a crush?
Her words land differently than they should. You notice Steve doesn’t correct her, he just smiles at her for a second before offering her a gentle nod. “Always,” he says. “I’ll get out of your hair. Dustin will rip me a new one if I’m late again.”
“Alright, have fun and drive safely, tell Dustin I say hello!” She speaks as she makes her way to the fridge to start grabbing ingredients for the roast chicken she was preparing.
“Always do. See you later.” He glances over at you leaning on the island, offering you a soft smile before grabbing his things from in front of you and exits the kitchen without another word. Your gaze follows him as he leaves, before turning back to your oblivious grandma who was peeling some carrots opposite you. What on earth have you missed?
All of you gathered around the table when your Mom called upstairs for dinner. You’d unpacked most of your things by then, shoving your clothes into drawers and hanging up a few of your favourite dresses. You’d even found the time to read a few chapters of the book you’d started in the car.
Most of the meal was your Grandmother talking, passing food around like it’s nothing more than a conversation filler. “And Steve has been an absolute godsend. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Your fork stops half way to your mouth at the mention of Steve, your eyes glancing around the table to gauge other reactions before setting the silverware down on your plate gently as your Mom speaks.
“So, he comes by a lot?” She speaks gently, taking a small sip of her glass,
“Yeah, more than he needs to.” She says immediately, like it’s something obvious.
Your Dad glances between the two of them, “So, what does Steve do? Just fixes things?” He presses gently.
“Oh, he does everything,” Your Grandmother preens. “Sink, door, porch light last week. I told him it wasn’t urgent, and he showed up the next morning anyway. He’ll come round for dinner, take me into town. Everything.”
Your Mom smiles politely, taking a sip from her glass and settling it gently back on the table as she spoke. “Well, that’s real nice of him, Mom.”
“That’s Steve,” Your Grandmother says, like that explains it. “He’s a good kid. His family have lived a few houses over for as long as I can remember, a nice family but not very.. Present.”
You shift slightly in your seat. Julie is quietly eating beside you, completely unbothered, as if this is just normal background noise.
“It started when Irv passed, all the neighbours stopping by as they do but eventually that stopped and I was alone. But, Steve was always there. He’d bring me groceries, pick up my prescriptions, I didn’t ask but he was just there. He fixes things for me, keeps me company, he’s been through a lot but he’s really turned his life around. He’s like the son I never had.”
Your Dad clears his throat. “So, you’ve been managing alright out here?” He asks, softer now. His words were almost an apology for the fact that none of us have come to visit for a while. You all came to your grandfather’s funeral but only stayed for the night. You’d ring your grandmother every Sunday, promising you’d come and see her soon but life got in the way.
Your Grandmother nods, a proud smile across her gentle features. “I’m great, Rich. I’ve got my Steve.”
“So, he’s not your boyfriend?” You asked casually, shoving a piece of chicken into your mouth in an attempt to hide behind the question you just asked. Heat flushed your face as every head spun to look at you, your mom’s sip of her wine catching in her throat as she glared at you.
A roared laughter left your Grandmother's lips, “Boyfriend? My goodness, Honey. What do you take me for? No, no. Steve is just a gentleman. That’s all.” She nodded at you with a warm smile before leaning over and piling another portion of chicken onto your plate before you could object.
Julie snorts beside you into her drink. Your Mom points her fork between your Grandmother and your plate she’s just piled on with a smile. “Some things never change.”
“Well somebody around here has to feed you people properly.” Your grandmother waves a hand dismissively before looking toward your dad. “Richard, are you still drowning your steaks in ketchup?”
Your Dad actually laughs at that, short and surprised. “Alright, Evelyn. That was a long time ago. I was like, twenty two.”
“That’s disgusting,” Julie mumbles through a soft giggle, shaking her head at your dad as she imagined his ketchup covered meal.
“Thank you,” Your Grandmother nods approvingly. Your dad shakes his head, smiling into his drink. “Steve refuses to let me do anything myself anymore,” she continues, practically gushing over her new found friend. “Last month I told him I was perfectly capable of carrying my own groceries and he looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Evelyn, you nearly slipped on your own porch yesterday.’”
Your Mom lets out a small scoff, her own fork hitting her plate as she turns her attention to her own mother. “You did? Mom, you really have to be more careful.”
“I did not nearly slip,” Your Grandmother scoffs back. “I–I stumbled.. gracefully. He just worries too much,” She says, though the fondness in her voice betrays her immediately. “Always checking if I’ve eaten, if I’ve slept, if I remembered my doctor’s appointment. He was the one who drove me after my cataract surgery.”
Something quiet settles over the table for a second. Your Mom’s expression changes first, to something warm. “Well, that was kind of him.” You could tell that she’s silently thankful that she’s found someone who’s taking good care of her, even if it’s some neighbour who nobody remembers.
Your Grandmother shrugs lightly, though you can tell it means more to her than she’s letting on. “He’s a good kid.”
Your Dad clears his throat again, shifting slightly in his chair. “So, how old is he?”
Your Grandmother brightens immediately. “Oh, nineteen, eighteen, I think? Around your age.” She points vaguely between you and Julie. “Well, closer to yours.”
“Hm,” Your Mom hums softly into her wine glass, your eyes catch hers as you take a bite of your carrot. You can tell by the look in her eyes what she’s thinking, so you quickly turn your focus onto Julie as she speaks.
“So, what does he do? Does he work or just hang out with you all day?” Julie chirps, earning a tut from your mother before Julie pushes her empty plate away from her gently as she leans back into her seat.
Your Grandmother nods proudly. “He’s working at Family Video over on Main Street. And he helps Coach Callahan sometimes at the high school.”
Julie grins openly now, shaking her head as she looks over at you with a soft giggle. “I can’t believe you thought he was Grandma’s boyfriend.”
“Oh my God,” You groan, your forehead falling to your palm as your elbow rests on the table. Your eyes squint shut as laughs emerge from your family around the table, even a few slipping past your lips despite yourself.
Your Grandmother laughs so hard she nearly has to put her fork down. Your Mom shakes her head into her glass. “I cannot believe you said that out loud.”
“Well what was I supposed to think?” You defend quickly. “I came in and he was just there. Helped himself to the fridge to get me water, I thought he was a repairman but when I saw you talk to him I just assumed.. Boyfriend.” A soft shrug ended your speech as you pulled Julie’s empty plate to yours, placing it on top and leaning back in your seat.
“That’s because he’s always here, he’s basically a part of the furniture now.” Your Grandmother says simply. Again, like that explains everything. And somehow, to everyone else at the table, now it does.
Your Grandmother clears her throat gently before she glances between your parents, “So,” she says carefully, folding her napkin slightly in her lap. “How are things back home?”
You notice your Mom and Dad both go still for half a second, their eyes meeting for a moment before your dad’s attention turns back to your grandmother with a soft smile.
“We’re figuring things out.” He nods, but the sentence feels rehearsed. You’ve overheard enough conversations that you know you shouldn’t to know that’s not necessarily true, you know that your parents wouldn’t have shipped you and Julie away for 12 weeks if things were going well.
Your Grandmother nods slowly like she understands far more than she says. “Well, that’s good to hear,” she says gently, “And the girls are welcome here as long as they need to be.” She reaches her palm out to touch Julie’s arm softly, offering her a soft smile before she meets your eyes.
“We really appreciate it, Mom.” Your Mom speaks as she excuses herself from the table, moving to gather everyone’s empty plates before leaning over your Grandmother's shoulder to press her lips against her temple.
After all the dishes are cleared from the table, you and Julie were in the cycle of rinsing and drying in the sink as she recalled everything she wanted to do this summer in Hawkins. Spend all her time on her bike, get through at least 10 new books. You were drawn out of conversation at the sound of your dad calling out for the two of you.
“We’re gonna make a move, wanna get on the road before it gets too dark.” He says as he pulls Julie into a hug, crouching down to wrap his arms around her as he buries his face in her curly hair.
You smile fondly watching them when you’re pulled by your Mom’s hand gently holding your arm, you turn to her with a soft smile. “You’ll both be okay, right?”
“Of course, Mom,” You tut gently, shaking her grip off of you to pull her into a tight embrace. You knew that your Mom would worry about you both, but you wanted her to focus on herself and your Dad. “You just focus on yourself, okay?”
She pulls back from your hug with a big nod and a bright smile despite her eyes glassing over slightly, her hand pulls up to your cheek to rub her thumb against your skin gently. “I’m so proud of you, my big girl.” Her voice was a soft whisper, causing your own vision to get misty as you shook your head gently.
Hesitantly, she pulled herself away from you and turned to Julie as your Dad pulled you in for a hug. “Call us if you need anything, okay?” He spoke gently against your ear before giving you a soft squeeze and pulling away.
As they said goodbye to your Grandmother and made their way to the car, you and Julie stood out on the porch watching them settle in the vehicle, your Mom leaning out of the window and waving, blowing kisses as they drove off down the street. You felt Evelyn’s hand on your shoulder, her warm presence shaking the sadness from the situation at hand.
The three of you make your way inside, Julie retreating to one of the big armchairs in the lounge and grabbing a magazine that lived on the coffee table in front of it. Your Grandmother settles in the chair next to her, before you gently clear your throat to grab her attention.
“I’m gonna shower, rinse off that car ride.” You nod softly, brushing your hands over your jeans before turning to the staircase, your fingertips dragging up the bannister as you carried yourself up them.
“Okay, sweetheart. Towels are where they always are.” You hear your Grandmother call from downstairs as you round the top of the stairs to find your bedroom.
Upstairs, the bathroom is exactly as you remember it. The same mirror, same slightly yellowed tiles, same faint echo when you turn the tap too quickly. The water runs too warm at first, then settles into something manageable. You let it overtake you completely, washing out every minute of the almost twelve hour drive.
As you finally step out and wrap yourself in a towel, the house is even quieter than it was before. You head out into the hallway to retreat to your room, but again you hear no TV or radio calling through the house, no chatter from downstairs.
You shut your bedroom door behind you and change into your pyjamas, an old t-shirt from summer camp ten years ago with a pair of plaid shorts that have worn into pure comfort over the years of washing them. You’re brushing through your wet hair when you exit your room to walk across the hall to Julie’s room, gently knocking before pushing it open.
Julie’s room was lit up by the warm bulbed lamp that sat on her bedside, she was laid next to it with one of her books on her chest. She was half slumped on the pillow, her chest rising and falling as she slept with a gentle snore through her nose. You smiled gently to yourself, quietly crossing the room to turn the lamp off and dog-ear the page she had open, settling the closed book on the nightstand next to her.
As you reach your room again, you shut the door behind you gently before reaching into one of the drawers next to the mirror and grab a sweater. You grab your own book from your bag you were nursing in the car, and settle on the pillowed bay window that sat overlooking the front garden of Evelyn’s house and street.
The quiet hum of the night was filling the room as you dove into your read. After a few hundred pages, you’re pulled from your concentration by a voice drifting faintly upward through your window. You shuffle forward, peering your head through the lace curtain just enough to see Steve walking up your Grandmother’s path, and settling next to her on the porch. Just sitting beside Evelyn like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You let out a small huff through your nose as you close your book and toss it aside on the pillow next to you before shoving your feet into your slippers and quickly crossing the room. You practically glide downstairs before stopping short at the front door, adjusting your sweater and pushing the wet strands of your hair behind your shoulder before you slowly open the front door.
Both Steve and Evelyn look at you slowly push the screen door open and poke your head out, the old hinges of the door creaking softly into the quiet night. The porch light above Steve casts a warm yellow glow over both of them, he sits slouched comfortably in the chair beside your Grandmother like he’s been sitting there for hours, one leg stretched onto the porch step while the other bounces faintly at the knee. He’d changed since his visit earlier, no rolled sleeves or toolbox, just a dark t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and a worn pair of jeans.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us.” Your Grandmother beams the second she sees you, her body turning to face you like a welcome.
You take a step out of the doorway, but still awkwardly hovering with one hand resting against the doorframe as the cool night air brushes against your damp hair and bare legs beneath your oversized sweater. “I thought you were at the movies,” you say, looking directly at Steve before crossing your arms across your chest.
He glances up at you, relaxed as ever. “I was,” he turned over his shoulder and pointed to a house diagonally across from the one you were all sitting underneath. “But I live right there, so when I came home I saw Mrs. W over here and thought I’d come say hi.”
You don’t know why that bothers you as much as it does. “Right,” you mumble.
Your Grandmother gestures toward the empty chair opposite them. “Sit down, sweetie.” You hesitate briefly before stepping out onto the porch properly, the wooden boards creaking beneath your slippers as you settle into the old metal chair, groaning loudly underneath you.
“Careful,” Steve says playfully. “That chair’s fighting for its life.”
You shoot him a look. “Good to know after I already sat down.” You stay quiet, settling yourself into the scene and watching the two of them go back and forth with an ease that feels almost rehearsed. Like this happens every night, maybe it does.
You fold your arms across your chest loosely, your eyes flicking between them. The conversation moves too naturally, stories that clearly happened while you were somewhere else living your own life. Your Grandmother reaches over absentmindedly, patting Steve’s forearm gently as she laughs at something else he says, and something uncomfortable twists in your stomach before you can stop it. Because she used to look at you like that before the years got busy. Before phone calls replaced visits, before “soon” became almost twelve years.
The porch falls quieter for a moment, the distant hum of cicadas fills the warm summer night while somewhere down the street a television drifts faintly through an open window.
Evelyn eventually presses her palms against the arms of her chair with a soft sigh as she pushes herself to her feet. “Well,” she announces, “Unfortunately unlike you teenagers, I actually know when I need sleep.”
Steve straightens slightly immediately, “Do you want me to lock up before I leave?”
“I raised three children, Steven,” She says dryly, waggling her finger at him with a soft laugh. “I think I can manage a lock.”
“You also leave your back door open at least twice a week.” He chuckles, looking up at her, his eyebrow perked up as a knowing grin twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah? Well, that’s between me and God.” She retorts, a laugh escaping you before you can stop it. The second it does, both of them look at you. Your smile disappears instantly, but Evelyn catches it and beams. Steve rubs a hand over the back of his neck, very obviously hiding a smile.
Your Grandmother points between the two of you. “Alright, don’t stay out here all night gossiping about me.”
“We won’t,” Both you and Steve say at the exact same time, your eyes meeting briefly before you looked away back toward Evelyn quickly.
Evelyn gasps playfully. “Oh, look at that. You’re already finishing each other’s sentences. How romantic.”
“Grandma,” you groan immediately. Steve drops his head briefly into his hand with a quiet laugh, your grandmother looks entirely too pleased with herself as she makes her way toward the front door.
“Goodnight, sweetie,” She says to you before looking toward Steve. “Seriously, don’t sit out here all night, I don’t want either of you catching a cold.”
“No promises,” He replies. She points a warning finger toward him before disappearing inside, the screen door slamming softly shut behind her.
Silence settles over the porch almost immediately. Not awkward, necessarily, just the presence of your Grandmother leaving you two alone is suddenly much louder. You can hear the soft buzz of the porch light above you now, the chirp of crickets somewhere out near the trees.
Steve leans back in his chair again while you stare out toward the dark street instead of at him. “You really thought I was her boyfriend?” He asks eventually, his forearms resting on the metal arms of the chair.
You immediately drop your face into your hands, stifling a small laugh as your face scrunches thinking back on your outburst at the table. “Oh my God.”
“I’m just curious, Evelyn is a beautiful lady and all, but I think she might be just a little too old for me.” He laughed gently at your reaction, his chin ducking into himself slightly as he looked over at you through his eyelashes.
“Look, I just wasn’t expecting to see you in there,” Your hands dropped to your lap as your fingertips played with a small thread hanging from the bottom of your sweater. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting her to have some.. Guy in her house. If you weren’t a repairman, what was I meant to think? She called you honey.”
“She calls everybody honey.” Steve shrugged at your words, you could feel his eyes trying to read you as you spoke and suddenly you felt small under his gaze.
“She doesn’t call me honey.” You mutter, your arms crossing over your chest in annoyance as you shuffle in your seat slightly, your eyes darting anywhere they can settle to avoid having to look at him.
“That’s because she likes me more.” He jokes playfully with a shrug, causing your head to snap toward him instantly. And there it is again, that stupid easy smile. You narrow your eyes at him.
“You know,” You say slowly, “Just because my Grandmother loves you doesn’t mean we have to be friends.” The words come out sharper than you intended.
That causes the smile to slip from his face slightly, he doesn’t seem offended, maybe just surprised. You cross your arms tighter across your chest immediately, suddenly feeling defensive in a way you can’t explain. “I barely know you, Steve.” you add quickly. “You’re just.. here all the time.”
Steve studies you for a second. The porch light catches softly against the contour of his face, his expression unreadable for a moment before he looks back out toward the street. “Okay.” That catches you off guard, maybe a part of you almost wanted him to argue back.
“I just think it’s.. Kinda weird,” You mutter stiffly.
“I know.”
“You know?”
He shrugs lightly. “You got here, and suddenly there’s some random guy sitting in your Grandmother’s kitchen drinking her coffee and fixing her cabinets. I don’t want you to feel out of place, she’s still your Grandmother.”
You stare at him, because somehow that sounds dangerously close to understanding you and you don’t like that. “That’s not what this is,” You say quickly.
“Alright.” Again, no arguing or defending himself. Just calm, and for some reason it irritates you more.
“Are you always this annoying?” You mutter, your eyes rolling and landing on him to catch him already looking at you, a soft yet comforting smile placed across his face as he notices your attention on him.
A quiet laugh leaves his lips causing the corner of your mouth to almost betray you but you catch it quickly, looking away before he can notice the smile he almost earned from you. Of course Steve notices, but keeps his comment and his own smile to himself.
Tuesday, May 21st 1985
Hawkins, Indiana
Tuesday passed slowly. The kind of slow that only seemed to exist in small towns during summer. By the second day in Hawkins, the house had already settled into its own rhythm around you. Floorboards creaked at the same times every morning, Evelyn’s old kettle screamed from the stove before eight, and the sound of birds outside your bedroom window became impossible to sleep through once the sun came up.
You spent most of the day helping Evelyn around the house while Julie drifted between rooms carrying piles of laundry she could barely see over. The windows had been thrown open to let the summer air move through the house, lace curtains lifting softly every time a breeze passed through. Somewhere downstairs an old radio station crackled quietly through the kitchen, constantly interrupted by static every time Evelyn walked too far from it.
You dusted shelves lined with framed photographs, helped reorganise kitchen cupboards that already seemed organised enough, and stood on a chair holding a flashlight while Evelyn directed you through finding a fuse box she insisted had ‘a mind of its own.’
Every now and then, without really thinking about it, your eyes drifted toward the front window whenever headlights passed by outside. Steve never showed. Julie was the one who finally asked about it sometime after lunch while the three of you folded towels in the living room. “Where’s Steve today?”
Evelyn barely looked up from the towel she was carefully folding against her lap. “Oh, he works on Tuesdays, sweetie.” She answered simply. You hated the strange vague feeling of disappointment that settled quietly in your stomach afterward, especially because it made absolutely no sense.
Wednesday, May 22nd 1985
Hawkins, Indiana
The next morning arrived heavy with heat. The kind that already clung to your skin before noon. Your bedroom window sat wide open, letting in the sounds of lawnmowers somewhere down the street and the distant bark of a dog that had apparently been arguing with the universe since sunrise. Sunlight spilled across the floral bedspread beneath you while you stood in front of the mirror trying and failing to do something useful with your hair.
You’d dressed for the weather more than style. A pale yellow sundress that hung loosely against your skin and a pair of worn white sneakers you’d nearly left behind at home. By the time you’d brushed mascara onto your lashes, you could already feel the humidity curling the ends of your hair back out again.
Behind you, Julie burst into the room without knocking. “I’m ready.”
You turned around slowly. Julie stood proudly in the doorway in bright red shorts and an oversized blue t-shirt knotted at the waist, white socks pulled too high beneath her sneakers. Your mother’s sunglasses sat pushed dramatically onto the top of her curls like she was trying very hard to be older than twelve.
“You look cute, Julie.” You beamed, your fingers wrapping around her sunglasses and pushing them down to the bridge of her nose as you brushed past her through the doorway toward the stairs.
Julie grinned as she hurried behind you, her voice in a bright tone as she overtakes you and hurries herself down the stairs. “Thank you.”
Evelyn’s voice floated up to you moments later. “If you girls leave without the grocery list, don’t bother coming home!”
Julie gasped from somewhere downstairs. “She’s threatening us already!” You smiled despite yourself before following her down.
The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and buttered toast when you entered. Evelyn sat at the table in a floral blouse and cream slacks, large sunglasses perched on top of her curled hair despite the fact she was entirely indoors. A small portable fan oscillated uselessly beside her, barely moving the thick summer air.
“Wow, you look like a firework,” Evelyn replied easily, sliding a folded grocery list across the table toward you. “And you, don’t let Julie spend all my money on magazines again.”
Downtown Hawkins looked like somebody had frozen summer in time. The sidewalks buzzed lazily with people moving between storefronts while music drifted faintly from somewhere further down Main Street. Bikes were abandoned outside shops, kids darted across roads without looking properly, and groups of teenagers lingered outside the arcade drinking cans of Coke beneath the heat.
The grocery bags dug painfully into your fingers as you and Julie walked back down the street nearly an hour later. “You absolutely did not need three different lip glosses, Julie.”
“But they’re different colours, and flavours.” You rolled your eyes at her with a soft laugh, Julie walked half a step ahead of you the entire time, peering into every shop window with excitement that only twelve-year-olds seemed capable of maintaining in humidity like this.
Then suddenly she stopped so fast you nearly walked straight into her. You followed her gaze upward. The bright red Family Video sign sat proudly above the storefront windows, faded slightly from the sun. “Julie, no.”
“Please?” Julie’s eyes were practically begging as her hands wrapped around your arm, tugging on you gently as if that would help her case.
“We already have movies at the house.” You laughed gently, tightening your grip on the bag of groceries that were slipping from your arm.
“But not new ones. Please?” Julie begged dramatically. “Just one.”
You sighed reluctantly, “Alright, fine. One movie.”
Julie let out a triumphant noise before practically dragging you through the front door. Cold air immediately hit your skin the second you stepped inside, the store smelled like carpet cleaner, plastic VHS cases and stale popcorn. Rows of tapes stretched endlessly beneath fluorescent lighting while movie posters covered almost every inch of the walls, somewhere near the back of the store, somebody laughed loudly enough to echo.
Behind the counter sat a girl around your age flipping lazily through a magazine sporting short blonde hair and a pair of sharp blue eyes, and an expression that suggested she was mentally judging everybody who walked through the door. The bell above the entrance jingled shut behind you and she looked up slowly.
“Okay,” She starts immediately, pointing toward the comedy section, “Before you ask, yes, we’re out of Back to the Future again and yes, people are acting like it’s a national emergency.”
Julie blinked at her for a moment before she disappeared almost instantly toward the shelves. You adjusted the grocery bags against your hip, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you speak. “You always greet customers like that?”
“At the moment during our Back to the Future shortage, yes. Yes, I am.” She flipped her magazine shut and pushed it aside, flashing you a proud toothy grin.
From somewhere deeper in the store, a deep familiar voice called out in conversation, the sound booming through the shop. “That’s slander and you know it, Henderson.”
You turned automatically to see Steve standing near the horror section with a stack of returned tapes balanced against his chest while a younger curly-haired boy stood beside him arguing animatedly about something.
“No, because listen–” The kid was saying quickly, hands flying everywhere as Steve stood beside him. “If they’re in space, it counts as science fiction.”
“That is not how genres work, Henderson.” He groans, his words sharp on his tongue with frustration.
“It literally is.” Henderson spat back, the back of his hand slapping down against his palm with each word for exaggeration as he argued with Steve.
Steve glanced up as he was about to argue back and spotted you standing at the front counter, and for half a second his expression shifted into mild surprise before settling back into that same relaxed smile you were quickly learning was permanently attached to him.
“Well,” He said as he approached the counter with the curly haired kid in tow behind him, “Missed seeing me at your house so bad you had to come find me at work?.”
You let out a short laugh as you placed the grocery bag on the counter and leant your elbows down on it, a reluctant smile on your lips as you spoke. “Yeah, you wish. Julie wanted to have a movie night so I got dragged in. Against my will.”
The younger boy he was arguing with soon trailing behind him suddenly straightened slightly when he noticed Julie standing nearby flipping through tapes, his confidence seemed to disappear almost instantly. Julie looked up first, and the curly haired boy immediately looked away. You noticed that Steve noticed it too, both of you mirroring a knowing smile to each other quietly.
“Dustin,” Steve said, clearly trying not to laugh as he gestures between you and Julie. “these are Evelyn’s granddaughters.”
Dustin adjusted the baseball cap sitting on his curls before giving a small awkward wave. “Oh. Right, hello.”
Julie smiled immediately, putting down a tape that she was holding to turn her attention to him with a bright smile across her face. “Hi, I’m Julie.”
“Dustin,” He replied quickly. “Obviously.” He paused for a moment, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to find his words before they all fell out of his mouth. “I mean – not obviously. You didn’t know that.”
Steve looked deeply entertained as he copied your stance and leant over the counter on his elbow. Robin snorted from behind Steve, sat up on the counter behind them as she called out. “You’re doing great, Dingus.”
Dustin shot her an offended look, gritting his teeth as he spoke bluntly through them. “Shut up, Robin.”
You bit back a smile as Julie stepped closer toward him, not realising all three of you were gawking at the two teenagers in front of you. “So, what movies do you like?”
The two of them fell into easy conversation about all the different kinds of movies they both had been watching as they drifted toward the shelves together almost instantly, Dustin talking faster the more comfortable he became while Julie followed beside him listening intently.
You watched them disappear toward the sci-fi section before glancing toward Steve. “So, do you collect children now too?”
Robin let out a loud, unapologetic laugh at your comment as her fingers grabbed the magazine she was reading when you came in. Steve’s face contorted in a playful offence as he leant off of his elbows to lean on his hand, the other sitting on his hip. “Right, thanks for that.”
“I’m serious,” You replied as you attempted to fight a smile, your shoulder shrugging gently as you continued. “I’ve been here barely forty eight hours and I’ve already noticed that your social circle seems heavily weighted toward kids and senior citizens.”
Robin burst into laughter behind the counter whilst Steve looked personally offended. “I have adult friends.”
Robin raised her hand immediately, not looking up from the page in her magazine. “I can vouch for that, surprisingly.”
“And yet I stand by what I said.” You shook your head softly as Steve moved behind the counter to help scan returned tapes. Watching him here felt strange. Not because he seemed out of place, because he didn’t. He moved around the store easily, joking with Robin, greeting customers by name, arguing with Dustin about movies like this was a version of him everybody already knew.
Thursday, May 23rd 1985
Hawkins, Indiana
Thursday morning starts earlier than you expect it to. Not because of alarm clocks or anything deliberate, but because Hawkins seems to have its own idea of what time people should be awake. Light is already spilling through your curtains by the time you stir, soft and golden and far too cheerful for how little sleep you feel like you got.
Downstairs, there’s movement again. You sit up slowly, pushing hair out of your face and listen for a second. Undoubtedly Julie’s voice, fast, excited and already mid-sentence. You pull yourself out of your tangled sheets to hop into the shower, washing away your slumber. Once back in your room, you decided on a t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. You pull on your sneakers and make your way downstairs barefoot, the wooden steps cool under your feet as you follow the sound into the kitchen.
Julie is already there, sitting at the table in mismatched socks and an oversized t-shirt, swinging her legs like she’s been awake for hours already, a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand and absolute excitement written across her entire face.
“I’m telling you, Gram,” she beams, “Dustin said there’s like six of them, and they all have walkie-talkies that they talk to each other on, and they always meet in Mike’s basement and–”
Evelyn is at the stove, calmly pouring tea into a mug like this is a completely normal sentence to hear at breakfast. “Six children in a basement,” she repeats thoughtfully. “That sounds.. fun.”
Julie nods seriously, taking another bite of her toast before speaking with her mouthful. “It is fun. He said I can go round later, and meet the rest of them.”
You lean against the doorway listening to your sister excitedly talking about the prospect of making new friends. “You’re already packing social plans into your schedule?” You offer as you join her at the table, pulling a chair out and sitting opposite Julie.
Julie nods immediately, a wide and excitable grin across her lips as she wipes her crumby hands on her t-shirt. “Of course, like I told you the other day, I have a lot I want to get through this summer.”
Evelyn looks over her shoulder at you then, her smile faint but somehow like she’s silently plotting. “Steve called earlier,” she says casually.
Your hand wraps around the mug that was sitting on the table, the warmth of the coffee burning your palm despite the sun beaming heat down outside. “Oh, yeah?”
“He said he’s taking Dustin to Mike’s this evening, so he’d swing through and pick Julie up on the way,” she continues, like she’s commenting on the weather. “Thought it might be easier than you trying to find your way there.”
You glance down at your mug, the bubbles in the coffee swirling as you mumble softly. “Of course he did.”
Evelyn watches you for a moment before picking up her own mug that she’d just poured her tea into and slides into the seat next to Julie, nodding in your direction softly as she spoke. “He also asked if you were going.”
“And what did you say?” you asked gently, taking a sip of your drink before softly placing it on the wooden table.
“Well, I told him you’d make your own mind up.” she replies, far too calmly with a simple shrug before brushing a strand of hair behind Julie’s ear.
Julie is now looking at you like you’re personally ruining her life, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes narrow at you over the table. “You’re coming,” she says immediately.
“I didn’t say I was–”
“You’re coming.” she repeats with a definitive nod, her expression turning into a proud grin like you’ve already said yes, and she made it happen.
You exhale through your nose, “I don’t know, Julie. I don’t think I’d like spending my day with a bunch of kids.”
Julie gasps dramatically, “They are not just kids, Dustin said Mike’s sister will be there and she’s old, like you. Please?”
“I mean, what else are you going to do otherwise? Spend your day with Grandma?” Evelyn offers, tilting her head at you with a perched eyebrow.
“Yes, actually. That sounds pretty good to me.” you say with a laugh, taking a sip of your drink to avoid further argument. From somewhere outside, a car pulls up.
Evelyn’s eyes flick toward the window. “Ah,” she says simply. “That’ll be him.”
Steve doesn’t knock. He just opens the front door like it’s something he’s allowed to do, stepping inside with that same easy familiarity you’re still not entirely used to. He saunters into the kitchen wearing a loose button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly and jeans that look like they’ve seen better days, hair pushed back in a way that makes him look like he’s had a long morning already.
“Good morning, Mrs W.” Steve beams as he rounds the table to greet your Grandmother. His hand coming down to squeeze her shoulder gently as her hand comes up to hold his, she looks up at him and offers him a warm smile.
“Morning, Steve. Are you here to give me some peace for the day?” she glances over at Julie who is already looking at her with a shocked look in her face, it quickly dissolves when she realises Evelyn was just teasing.
“That I am. You both ready?” he laughs softly, pulling his hand back to rest both of them on his hips. He looks down at Julie before finally looking over at you, his smile lighting something warm in the pit of your stomach.
Julie’s eyes widen and quickly places her hands on the table and pushes herself back in her chair, legs swinging off and running up toward the stairs shouting back that she’ll be ready in five minutes.
Steve lets out a laugh before slipping into the unoccupied seat, leaning forward to grab an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. You watch him over the rim of your mug as you sip gently, resting it on your knee as he makes conversation with Evelyn about a customer from Family Video that said he knew her.
After a beat, Julie comes steaming down the stairs dressed in a pair of her worn in overalls and her favourite striped t-shirt that used to be yours. She stands there with a beaming smile, obviously eager to get going.
“Right, I guess that’s our que,” Steve stands and twirls his car keys around his finger, walking over to the bin to toss away his apple core before walking back over to Julie. She shouts goodbye to Evelyn as she’s halfway down the hallway to the front door, and Steve’s stuck in his shoes as his eyes are on you still sat in your seat. “Are you not coming?”
You shake your head gently as you lean forward to place your mug on the table before looking back over at him. “No, I’m fine here spending the day with my book and my Grandma. Thank you, though.”
Julie reappears into the kitchen with a loud groan, “Please,” she pleads as her hands grab onto your arm. “You have to come, you can’t let me go in there alone. Please.”
“You literally wanted this,” you remind her with a laugh, turning your body to face her as you place your hand over hers softly. “You’ll be fine, Julie.”
“Look, sitting with a book and chatting with Evelyn sounds like a perfect day to me, but they’re a fun group of kids, they’d love to meet you.” Steve offered, causing you to look up at him and once again, you’re greeted with that warm smile you can’t get enough of. “Plus, I’ll be there.”
You hesitate for half a second longer than you mean to, then let out a loud exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I’ll come.” Julie squeals, celebrating like she’s won something important before she’s calling out goodbye again and running back to the front of the house.
You and Steve say goodbye to Evelyn before following behind Julie, you don’t miss how Steve holds open both the front door and passenger door for you, shutting it behind you before rounding to the driver's seat. He slides in with ease, turning the key into the engine as you open your mouth to speak.
“This is a nice car, Steve. I’m impressed.” you nod, your hand softly running along the dashboard before pulling the seatbelt over you.
“Oh, I’m very proud of her. She’s my baby.” he grins, patting the steering wheel gently before he pulls out onto your street.
As you pull up to Mike’s house, it looks louder before you even get inside. The moment Steve parks, you can hear it – laughter, shouting, something metallic dropping, someone yelling about rules that no one is following. Julie is practically out of the car before it fully comes to a stop.
Steve leans slightly toward you from the driver’s seat as he turns the engine off, shoving the keys into his pocket. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” you reply as you unbuckle your seatbelt, offering him a small smile as he studies you for a second like he’s checking whether that’s actually true before you turn to open your door and follow Julie up the path.
The air that greets you is warm, thick with summer heat and the sound of cicadas somewhere nearby. Julie is already at the door, Steve follows you both at a slower pace with hands in his pockets like this is routine. The front door swings open before anyone can knock.
A boy with dark hair and a serious expression looks at all three of you like he’s trying to process an invasion. You and Steve catch up to Julie just in time for the boy to pull the door open wider once he sees Steve, and who he’s assuming is Julie.
“You must be Julie?” he says with a smile, which earns an even brighter smile back from her as he guides her into the house, presumably to the group of kids that you haven’t stopped hearing about for the last eighteen hours.
“Julie–” you start, but she’s already gone.
Inside, it’s chaos. A living room that clearly used to be normal but has been claimed by teenagers who have no respect for furniture arrangement. A group of boys are arguing over something involving dice, someone is lying on the floor dramatically like they’ve been betrayed.
From the kitchen, another voice calls out. “Steve?”
A girl appears a moment later, she’s older than the rest, maybe your age or slightly above, her dark curly hair pulled back, eyes sharp and observant like she’s already decided she doesn’t believe anything anyone says.
She pauses for a moment when she sees you. Steve with a girl, a knowing smirk tugging the corner of her mouth as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her eyebrow raises gently as she purses her lips, her attention back on Steve.
“Oh, this is Evelyn’s granddaughter–” Steve cuts in before the girl standing before you has a chance to make any assumptions, you offer her your name with a smile and lifting your palm up in a soft wave.
“Oh yeah, of course! It’s great to meet you. I’m Nancy, and that’s Jonathan,” she adds, nodding toward a quieter boy with his messy hair covering his eyes leaning against the doorway into what you assume is the kitchen. He takes a few steps forward, his hand coming out to place on Nancy’s waist as he offers you a soft smile.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Evelyn doesn’t stop going on about you.” Jonathan beams, his other hand resting on his hip like he didn’t just say something to send your mind into a spiral.
“You’ve.. met my Grandmother?” you question, your eyes darting between the three of them before landing up on Steve, blinking at him as if that’ll pull an answer from him.
Steve let out a short laugh as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he turned his attention down to you, “Yeah, I should’ve mentioned – they’ve all met her. I had a barbeque at my house last summer and I invited her.”
“My Grandmother came to your barbeque?” you spoke gently with a soft laugh, looking over to the group of teenagers filling up the room with laughter. Maybe a few days ago you would’ve found that strange, your Grandmother spending her time with these people but it sits somewhere warm in your chest that maybe they’ve been taking care of her without even realising.
As Steve goes to answer, he’s whisked away by Dustin who is dragging him into their conversation. Nancy grabs ahold of your shoulder and guides you to the kitchen, offering you a drink or something to eat if you were hungry.
You were in a conversation with Nancy and Jonathan for what felt like ages, the two of you filling you in on everything you’d need to know about Hawkins as if you’d been away for a few weeks and just returned home.
“Okay, I’m going to check on Julie,” you say through laughter as Nancy tells you a story about Steve from last summer, how he fell into the pool with a tray of hot dogs after Dustin threw a football at him. “But I will be back, I want to hear the rest of that story.”
You excuse yourself from the table to walk through to the living room where you find Steve leaning against the doorway, watching the room with a fond expression. Julie is sitting on the floor with Dustin and a boy you soon learned was named Mike, laughing at something you’re sure you’re going to hear about later. For a second, you just stand there next to Steve and watch them.
Then, Steve speaks quietly beside you as he leans his head down slightly. “You didn’t have to come, you know. If you really wanted to spend time with Evelyn, I would’ve understood.”
You avoid his gaze, but offer a soft smile as your arms snake to fold across your chest in an attempt to hide yourself, you can’t help this feeling that every time Steve looks at you he’s looking deeper than anybody else would. “Yeah, I know.”
He paused for a moment, you can feel his eyes reading your expression before speaking up, his voice gentle as he shifted on his feet gently. “So, why did you?”
Watching Julie with her new found friends, you hesitate for a moment because the honest answer feels too simple. Because Julie begged you, and Evelyn looked like she wanted you to go. Because something about the way that Steve said he’d be there made the offer seem a lot more interesting than digging your nose into your book.
So instead, you shrug your shoulder gently and reply slightly softer, “I don’t know, I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“Well, that’s very noble of you.” Steve nodded softly,
“Yeah, don’t get used to it.” you laugh back, and when you finally look up at him he’s already looking down at you with that smile you’d bet has broken hundreds of hearts.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” he spoke as he brought his hand up to your arm gently, giving it a soft squeeze before moving past you and making his way back into the kitchen to join Nancy and Jonathan.
The afternoon moves around you after that, noises of laughter rising and falling in waves. Julie fully disappears into the group like she’s always been part of it, Dustin talks too fast but somehow everyone but you is understanding what he’s saying. Johnathan watches everything quietly like he’s trying to remember it all and Steve, somehow, fits into it without trying.
After what felt like hours, you find yourself excusing yourself for a moment to slip out to the backyard, the noise of the house slightly muted behind you. You take in a deep breath as you sit yourself down on a chair that rounded a wooden table on the patio. Your head drops against the back of the chair as you look up at the night sky that’s fallen above you, you’re taken out of your trance when you hear the back door open.
“You alright out here?” a gentle voice calls, your head spins to see Nancy standing in the doorway, holding the door open.
You offer her a small smile, sitting up straighter as you adjust yourself in the seat. “Yeah, sorry. I hope it’s okay, I just needed some fresh air – it’s a bit hectic in there.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she swats her hand in front of her face as she takes a step out of the door and lets it shut behind her, walking over to the table to sit in the chair next to yours. “Usually I can only last about five minutes before I retreat back to my room.”
A small laugh escapes your lips as you nod along with her words, “Well, I do not blame you one bit. I think I’d go crazy if Julie and all her friends invaded the living room at home.”
“Most of the time they’re downstairs in the basement, so I guess you got caught on an unlucky day.” she offered you with a smile, her arm settling against the armrests as the other brushes a few curls behind her ear. “So, how are you liking Hawkins?”
“Well, nothing to complain about so far. It’s pretty different from home, but everyone’s been sweet so far.” you look down at your hands as you speak, your fingers playing with the fabric of your skirt.
“I bet Evelyn’s loving having you around. She’s a remarkable woman, she used to go to book club with my Mom and I remember anytime we’d be out in town and see her she’d talk about you and Julie, how proud she was of you guys.” Nancy beamed, when you looked up at her she was looking at you with a bright smile that you couldn’t help but return.
“She’s the best Grandmother anyone could ever ask for,” you say with a simple shrug. When you go to speak again, you’re interrupted by the back door opening again and Steve poking his head out to the both of you.
“Sorry to interrupt, we’re making a move when you’re ready.” he nods at you gently before slipping back into the house.
Nancy offers you a small smile before pushing herself up from the chair and walking to the door, holding it open for you before turning to you. “If Hawkins ever gets a bit too quiet or lonely, you know where I am. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
You nod softly, taking the weight of the door from her as you hold onto the handle. “Yeah, I’ll take you up on that. Thanks, Nancy.” she flashes you a bright smile before entering the house with you shortly behind in tow.
After you made the rounds to drop off Dustin, Steve pulls up to Evelyn’s house and Julie is half asleep in the backseat with her head against the window with a small smile faintly across her lips in like she’s had the best day of her life. When the car jolts to a halt, she awakens and is quick to thank Steve and slip out of the car toward the house to find refuge in her warm bed.
You on the other hand linger slightly longer than you mean to, unbuckling your belt before looking over at Steve. “I really appreciate you driving Julie and I tonight, I know she had a blast. Thanks, Steve.” You let the buckle suck itself back into place before pushing the door open, before you feel Steve’s hand on your arm gently.
“You’re welcome any time, by the way,” His voice was gentle through the thick air in the car, you turned your head to him to offer him a small smile. “I hope you’ll come hang with us again, you’re welcome anytime.”
“Yeah, I will,” you nodded, Steve’s eyes narrow at you playfully with a raised eyebrow before you let out a small laugh. “I will, Steve. I’ll see you round?”
He nodded back, pulling his arm back to turn the key to pull them out of the engine as you let yourself out of the car. “I’ll see you round, Wilson.” He calls out as you shut the car door, you give him a small wave before walking up the path to the front door.
After you let yourself in and turn to close the door behind you, you see Steve making his own way down the path to his house. He stops at the front door to look around at you, returning your small wave with a small smile.
Friday, May 26th 1985
Hawkins, Indiana
By the time you finally wake up, the sun is already high enough to cast warm stripes of light across the bedroom floor, spilling through your lace curtains in soft patterns that stretch over the quilt that’s tangled around your legs. For a second, you don’t know where you are, then your eyes catch the floral wallpaper, and your ears catch the faint creak from downstairs, and your nose catches the smell of something sweet drifting through the hallway.
You groan softly as you push yourself upright, rubbing sleep from your eyes before you glance toward the small clock that sits crookedly on your bedside table on top of a few balanced books. Eleven thirty-seven. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, dragging a hand through your hair as you grab a claw clip from the drawer next to your bed and pull on yesterday’s sweater from the floor and head downstairs.
The sunlight stretches long across the carpet in the hallway, specks of dust drifting lazily through the air where the windows of the house sit cracked open to let in some air to cut through the warmth. Somewhere outside, you can hear the faint sound of Julie talking to herself which somehow now, feels entirely normal.
You follow the faint sound from the radio toward the kitchen where Evelyn stands at the counter slicing tomatoes with careful precision, her glasses slipping down her nose as she hums gently along to the music.
She glances up when she hears you, setting the knife down gently with a warm smile. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to join us.”
You lean against the doorway with a sleepy squint, a small laugh escaping before you could stop it as you cross your arms over your chest. “How long have you been awake?”
“Oh, hours. Long enough to watch the sun come up” She waves a hand dismissively as you move further into the kitchen, catching sight of bread, lettuce, tomatoes and a half-open jar of mayonnaise spread across the counter. You move beside her and reach out for the bread whilst Evelyn slides a plate toward you. “Julie’s been up since eight.”
A short laugh leaves your lips as you take out enough bread for the three of you and take a knife from the draw beside you, beginning to spread mayonnaise across the slices. “Eight? What’s she been doing?”
Evelyn lets out a small amused breath. “God, what hasn’t she been doing out there.”
You glance toward the window in front of the two of you to look outside, where Julie darts through the garden grass barefoot, arms stretched out dramatically as she balances along the low stone edge around Evelyn’s flowerbeds like she’s crossing some dangerous cliffside.
“She found a frog about an hour ago,” Evelyn murmurs, picking the knife back up to continue slicing the tomatoes as she looks out of the window over the top of her glasses.
You blink, the knife pausing in your hand as you look over at your Grandmother, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “A frog?”
Evelyn looks over at you, “She named him Roger.” she whispers playfully as she stifles a laugh.
“Please tell me she didn’t bring him inside.” you whisper back, causing Evelyn pause her slicing of the tomatoes, very deliberately avoiding eye contact with you. You narrow your eyes at her with a short gasp. “Oh my God.”
“He’s in a shoebox,” she says quickly, laughing through her words. “Ventilated, don’t worry.”
You press a hand to your forehead, shaking your head as you continue spreading the knife across the slices of bread, taking in a short breath to stop your laughter. “Gram, we’ve only been here four days and you’re already encouraging her.”
“She’s thirteen,” Evelyn says simply with a shrug, pushing the tomatoes over to you before she grabs a cucumber and begins slicing into that too. “Kids are supposed to be strange. That’s something she gets from you.”
You look over at her as you grab a few tomatoes, your eyebrows furrowed gently. “Get’s what from me? Being strange?”
“When you were eight, you used to carry around a rock,” Evelyn smiles as she recalls the memory of you running into the house with a large rock, and how happy you were when your Grandfather, Irv, helped you find a marker to draw a face on the rock. “A big rock, you named him Peter.”
“I absolutely did not.” you quickly shook your head, but you vividly remember Peter and how excited you were when you found him, and how he’d still be waiting for you in the drawer in your bedroom every time you’d return to your Grandparent’s house.
“You cried when your father accidentally threw him into a lake.” she laughed softly as she passed you the cucumbers and then moved over to the sink to wash her hands. “It was adorable.”
You can physically feel your soul leaving your body recalling the memory that Evelyn was painting. “Oh my God.”
Evelyn laughs properly then, warm and easy, softly nodding her head as she leant her hip slightly against the counter. “And when you were four, you also talked to birds and tried to eat worms in the garden.”
A laugh escapes you again despite yourself, the kind that catches you off guard. And for a moment, something soft settles between you, because suddenly she doesn’t feel like Grandma Evelyn in the distance. She feels real, like someone who knew versions of you that maybe you’d forgotten existed.
You glance over at her quietly, setting the knife down on the counter. “You remember all that?”
Evelyn pauses slightly, her expression softening as she took a step closer to you. “Of course I do, sweetheart.”
The answer comes so easily it almost catches you off guard, like there was never any possibility she wouldn’t. You pick up the knife again and busy yourself with the sandwiches for a second, blinking quickly to push back a few tears that you can suddenly feel pricking behind your eyes.
“I feel bad,” you say eventually. The words come out quieter than you mean them to, and Evelyn doesn’t answer immediately. You can hear Julie outside laughing loudly at something, and you keep your eyes on the cutting board. “For not coming,” you say after a moment. “After Grandpa.”
The kitchen stills slightly, and you shrug one shoulder as you remember what Nancy said to you last night, how Evelyn would speak to people about you when you weren’t around. “I kept saying I would. Then school or work or whatever happened, it kind of feels like I forgot how much I missed this place, I should’ve made the time to come and see you. I’m sorry.”
Evelyn wipes her hands on a dish towel as she shakes her head gently, “Oh, sweetheart.” her voice softens completely as she leans over and wraps her hand around your arm with a soft squeeze and a warm smile. “You don’t need to carry guilt around for growing up.”
You swallow slightly, “It just feels like I should’ve been here.” your voice was in a whisper as you pulled your sleeve up to your eyes to dab at the few tears that fell, offering Evelyn a small smile.
“Well,” she says gently, moving her arm to wrap around your waist and rest her head on your shoulder, “You’re here now, and that’s more than I could ever ask for.”
The back door suddenly flies open pulling you and Evelyn away from the moment as Julie bursts inside, her hair a mess and grass stains on her knees. “Roger escaped.”
You and Evelyn both turn quickly in her direction, “What?” you say together in unison, trying to ignore the way Evelyn’s knocking her elbow in your back playfully.
Julie stares at the two of you blankly for a moment before she sighs dramatically, her shoulders shrugging as she grabs a plate from next to you and crosses the room to the dining table. “I think he wanted freedom.”
Evelyn presses her lips together. “You know, Julie,” she says carefully as she makes her way over to the dining table, “Maybe that’s for the best. I don’t think there’s much more room in this house for one more.”
You stifle a laugh as you grab the other two plates, placing one down in the chair where Evelyn always sits, where there’s a permanent ring on the table in front of it from decades of her placing her coffee there every morning. As Julie and Evelyn argue playfully about the fate of Roger, for the first time all week, lunch doesn’t feel like something you’re passing through, it feels like you belong.
Saturday, May 25th 1985
Hawkins, Indiana
Tonight, dinner stretched longer than usual. The evening air drifting through the cracked kitchen window, carrying in the faint sound of crickets from outside and the occasional passing car somewhere down the road. The town seems quieter at night, like the whole town exhales once the sun goes down.
Somewhere between passing plates and Julie retelling a story she’s already told three times, nobody seems in a hurry to leave the table. Evelyn made spaghetti, not the kind your Mom would throw together after work when nobody could be bothered to cook properly, but the kind that started hours before dinner ever reached the table. The sauce sat thick and rich over tangled pasta, steam still curling from everyone’s plates while garlic bread sat wrapped in a dish bowl at the centre of the table.
Julie had already gone back for seconds. Twice. “You might turn into a piece of garlic bread if you have another,” you speak with a soft laugh as you watch Julie reach for another piece of bread.
She lets out a gasp, leaning forward to take a dramatically large bite out of the piece in her hand before setting it down on her plate. “I’d love that, then I could eat my arm when I get hungry.”
“Gross, then you’d just stink of garlic all the time.” You reply with your nose scrunched up before taking a sip of water from your glass, shaking your head at your younger sister.
The conversation drifts easily after that. Julie talks about wanting to bike into town tomorrow. You remind her she still somehow manages to get lost in grocery stores.
After dinner, the three of you settle into the comfortable rhythm that has somehow started forming without anybody mentioning it. Julie rinses dishes. You dry. Evelyn stands beside the sink drying her hands every ten seconds despite the towel never really leaving her shoulder. The radio hums quietly somewhere behind you. An old song you vaguely recognise but can’t place. Outside, dusk begins settling slowly over Hawkins.
Eventually, dishes become cards. Evelyn insisting it’s a Wilson family tradition to play cards after dinner on a Saturday night, already shuffling before either of you agree. The dining table stays warm from dinner plates long after they’re gone, a lamp near the kitchen throws soft golden light over the room while the rest of the house settles into evening around you.
Julie sits cross-legged in her chair, dramatically competitive as she peers over at you at the cards she’s holding quite literally close to her chest. “You’re cheating.”
“I’m winning,” you correct her smugly, resting your hand of cards down on your leg that’s sitting folded over the other. You flash her a toothy grin before laying your hand face up on the table, earning a pained groan from Julie as she throws her cards in front of her.
The hours pass easier than expected, the three of you sharing stories that slip out naturally. The kind families forget they remember, Julie asks what your mom was like growing up and Evelyn tells a story about Linda sneaking out to meet friends and accidentally locking herself out of the house.
“She had to throw rocks at the upstairs window until your Grandfather woke up.” Evelyn beamed through laughs, pulling the glasses from her nose to cover her eyes as she laughed.
You’re laughing hard enough that your stomach hurts. “No way, I think Mom would kill us if either one of us snuck out let alone woke her up in the middle of the night.”
As nine o’clock approaches, the three of you had moved to the living room where Julie is practically falling asleep in her armchair. She pulls herself up to her bed, muttering good night to you as Evelyn announces from next to you on the couch that she’s off to bed, too.
Evelyn pushes herself up and presses a kiss to the top of your head absentmindedly as she passes you. “Don’t stay up too late, sweetheart.”
“I won’t, Gram. Goodnight.” You smile to yourself as she makes her way up the creaking stairs. You lean forward to pick up the book that you’d left on the coffee table a few hours early, finding the cornered page to pick up where you left off.
Your eyes start to vibrate before you realise how long you’d been engrossed in your book, letting out a small huff as you glance at the clock that’s on the mantlepiece. The book returns to its place on the table with a new corner folded over, and you fluff the pillow that you’d made a dent in before turning off the light, and making your way toward the staircase.
Just as your feet pad the first step, the phone rings throughout the house, sharp enough to make you jump through the quiet of the house. You’re quick to grab it and hold it to your ear in an attempt to not wake Julie or Evelyn, your voice a gentle whisper as you speak.
“Hello?” Your fingers curl around the wire of the phone as you wait for an answer, only to be met with a breathy laugh you think you recognise.
“Oh, Wilson. I’m sorry, I was expecting Evelyn to answer.”
“It’s almost eleven o’clock, Steve. What makes you think my Grandmother would be awake to answer your call at this time?” You return a gentle laugh as you lean your back against the wall.
“We always speak at this time on a Saturday night, it’s our thing.” He returns, you hear him shifting in what you assume is his bed from the rustling you hear through the phone.
A short laugh leaves your lips, “You don’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night than lay in bed and speak to old ladies?”
He returns your comment with a snort, “Well, I was joking but to be honest I wasn’t expecting you to pick up. Did I wake you?”
“No, I was just on my way up to bed, though. Can I help you with anything in particular?”
“Yeah, actually,” He cleared his throat gently before continuing, “Sunday nights are usually movie nights at mine, I’m having a few of my friends round tomorrow night and I thought I’d ask if you wanted to come.”
“Your friends? Are all the children coming around to watch E.T.?” You joke, a small smirk tugging at your lips once you hear him bark a laugh through the phone.
“Funny. First of all, E.T. is actually a great movie, second of all, no children tomorrow night. Nancy and Johnathan will be there, and Robin who you met at work the other day. And Eddie.”
You pause, your finger untwirling and retwirling around the wire as you speak. “Well, Evelyn’s already got dinner planned but I guess I can swing by afterwards. Can I bring anything?”
“No, just yourself will be fine.” He laughs fondly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”
“Night, Wilson.” The line clicks before you can even ask what movie you’ll be watching. You hang the phone back on the wall and continue your descent up to your bedroom.
Sunday, May 26th 1985
Hawkins, Indiana
Sunday settles into the house slowly, the morning drifting in the same easy way most of the week had started to. Julie had spent most of it outside again, coming in only long enough to ask for snacks before disappearing back into the garden with dirt on her knees and leaves caught in her hair. Evelyn had pottered around the house all day, never really sitting still for longer than five minutes, straightening cushions that didn’t need straightening and reorganising cupboards no one else would notice.
By six, the house smells like dinner, the kind that takes all afternoon and lingers in your nose. Evelyn had insisted on making pot roast, despite you and Julie’s protests that nobody needed that much food for three people.
By seven, the sky outside has turned soft gold, painting the sky in the kind of summer evening that seems to stretch forever. The dining table had been set properly tonight, not just plates and forks thrown down quickly. Evelyn had brought out the good dishes and the nice napkins, even her favourite cinnamon spiced candles she insisted made everything feel welcoming.
You’d changed after your shower this afternoon, mostly because the house had gotten warm throughout the day and also because you knew you’d have to make a quick escape to Steve’s after dinner to avoid Julie tagging along with you. You settled on a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up your arms over a pair of faded denim shorts with your hair pulled up into a messy claw clip.
Forks and knives clatter against the ceramic plates as the three of you finish with your meal, Julie practically melting into her chair as she beams about how delicious the dinner was. The last of dinner lingers around the table longer than expected, mostly because Evelyn refuses to let anyone stand up before she’s satisfied everyone’s eaten enough.
Julie sits with her cheek pressed dramatically against the palm of her hand, her empty plate pushed forward as she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m never eating again.”
Evelyn points her fork toward her immediately. “You say that after every meal.”
“Because you feed us like we’re preparing for war,” Julie groans, though she reaches absentmindedly for another dinner roll anyway.
You snort softly into your drink, flashing her a playful smirk. “Yeah, I think that statement loses its credibility when you’re still eating.”
Julie narrows her eyes at you as she tosses the half eaten roll against her plate, speaking through her mouthful. “You’re annoying.”
“She gets it from her mother,” Evelyn says quietly with a soft smile, standing up to collect the plates and empty dishes before you can protest.
“Oh, absolutely not,” You laugh, standing quickly to take the stack from her hands. “Sit down, I got this.”
“Honey, I am perfectly capable–”
“You also made dinner for six hours.” You retort with a raised eyebrow, taking the plate from her hands before she can argue anymore.
Evelyn pauses before reluctantly letting go of the plates, “Well,” She sighs dramatically, settling back into her chair, “Guess I’ll relax then, since nobody lets me do anything anymore.”
The water runs warm over your hands as Julie stands next to you drying the dishes with no sense of urgency. Evelyn remains at her designated seat watching you both, flicking through the magazine that you’d picked up for her the last time you and Julie went into town for her.
As the last dish is dried, you glance over to the clock hanging up on the wall and quietly think about Steve and whoever else is waiting across the road waiting for your arrival. You throw the dishtowel onto the island, fixing the front of your sweater before clearing your throat gently.
“So, if dinner is done,” You start, clearing your throat again as you search for the words to delicately excuse yourself for the evening. “I’m gonna go to Steve’s, to watch a movie.”
Your words cause both Julie and Evelyn to look up at you, Julie letting out a dramatic gasp as she spins on her heels from the sink. “You’re what? Can I come?”
“No, Julie. It’s big kids only, I’m sorry.” You pursed your lips at her as your arms folded across your chest as she crossed the short of the room over to you.
“That’s not fair, you hung out at Mike’s house with Dustin and everyone else.” Julie copied your stance, her arms crossing across her chest with her eyebrows scrunching up to match.
“Just the two of you?” Evelyn’s words pulled you away from Julie, you notice the small knowing smile that played on her lips before you quickly shook your head.
“Oh, no, a couple others will be there.”
Evelyn nodded gently before pushing herself up from her chair and walked over to Julie, placing her hand gently on her shoulder. “You’ll survive one evening, love. Why don’t you go pick a board game, we can play whatever you want?”
Julie looked between you and your Grandmother before nodding gently, wiping her wet hands on her t-shirt as she crossed the room toward the living room before turning to look at you, her voice dramatic. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
You laughed softly as she sauntered into the living room, shaking your head before turning back to Evelyn. “Are you sure it’s okay that I go?”
“Of course, Hon. I want you to enjoy yourself this summer, Steve and his friends are a great group of kids. I’m glad you’re getting to know them.” She beamed, and you took a few steps forward to wrap your arms around her.
“Well, I’ll just be across the road if you need me. Shout loud enough and I’ll probably hear you.” You both laughed before you pulled away, offering her a wave as you made your way to the front of the house.
By twenty past nine, the sun had almost disappeared completely, the neighbourhood settling into that quiet summer stillness you’re beginning to recognise. Porch lights glowing warmly against the darkening skies, cicadas humming softly somewhere in the distance. The walk across the road to Steve’s house feels shorter than expected, even though it’s just a stone’s throw away.
Up close, Steve’s house looked bigger than Evelyn’s. Perfect hedges, perfect driveaway, perfect pretty much everything from the outside looking in. You hesitate as you head up the steps to his front door, standing on the doorstep for a moment in an attempt for any sign of life from the inside. Just as you’re about to knock, the door swings open.
Steve leans nonchalantly against the frame like he’s been standing on the other side waiting for you as he pulls the door open. His hair looked messier than usual, like he’d been playing with it for too long, a navy t-shirt covered his chest which fit him comfortably with a pair of dark jeans.
“Wilson! You came.” His smile was bright as his eyes took you in, his hand settling on his hip
You roll your eyes playfully, tilting your head as you quirked an eyebrow. “Well, you can’t be too surprised, you did invite me.”
“Yeah, well I’m glad to see you came.” His grin widens, “Come on in, Wilson.” He took a step aside for you to step in, and you’re instantly hit with voices and laughter from somewhere deeper in the house.
The sound of low music fills your ears and the smell of salted popcorn fills your noise, but before you could take it all in you hear a familiar voice calling out. “Is that Wilson?”
Steve pushes the front door shut behind you as you slip your shoes off awkwardly by the entrance, suddenly hyperaware that you’ve willingly walked into a stranger’s house on a Sunday night. Well, not really a stranger.
The house feels different than you expected. Bigger than Evelyn’s, sure. But strangely cold, like nobody really lived here. One of the first things you noticed about Steve’s house is that the walls were too bare, kind of looked like something from a magazine that your mom would pick up at the grocery store and you’d flick through when there was nothing to watch on TV.
There was no warmth, no family photographs cluttering shelves, no half-finished crossword puzzles left laid out, no cardigans hanging over the couch or extra shoes by the front door. Nothing that felt really lived in.
Steve notices you glancing around, “Everything okay?” He asked lightly as he lifted his hand to your back as he came up behind you, following your gaze around the entrance to the living room that you were looking onto.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Your house is really nice, it’s big.” You offer him a smile over your shoulder as you look up at him, you notice his eyebrow lifting slightly.
“Yeah.” Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone almost immediately. He offers you a small shrug as he looks back down at you. “My parents like things looking nice.”
Before you can respond, Robin appears suddenly from around the corner holding a bowl of popcorn almost bigger than her head, her eyes lighting up the second she spotted you.
"There she is!" The bowl of popcorn balanced precariously in her arms as she crossed the room toward you, offering a smile that immediately eased some of the tension in your shoulders. Her head jerked toward the room filled with people, her shoulders quickly following suit. "We’re just about to choose the movie, come on!"
“God, careful with that, Buckley." Steve spoke through his teeth as he moved around her, taking the popcorn bowl before she inevitably dropped it all over the floor.
The comfortability between them made you smile, not because of anything they were saying but just because it was obvious they'd been friends for a long time. Robin rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the living room, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entryway.
For a moment you weren't entirely sure where to put yourself. The house felt strange, everyone already belonged here and you were the new piece being fitted into an already completed puzzle.
Steve began to follow Robin through the house before turning on his heels, his brows furrowed as he seemed to notice your hesitation. "You okay, Wilson?"
"Yeah, I’m good.” You nodded gently, your arms crossing against your chest as you silently willed your feet to push you further though the house, but for some reason they only felt stuck.
His eyes lingered on you for half a second, taking a few steps forward as he swung the bowl under one of his arms as his other hand sat comfortably on his hip. His voice was gentle as he spoke, "If you’re nervous, you have no reason to be. They all love Evelyn, so they have to love you too, by extension."
That earned a small laugh from you, nodding your head before you exhaled a deep breath you didn’t even know you were inhaling. Your hands dropped from your chest to hit against your thighs as you started walking through the house. "Alright, alright. Lead the way then, Harrington."
The living room opened up in front of you as you followed him through the house. A standing lamp cast the room in a warm golden glow while the television flickered softly in the corner, a plethora of VHS tapes scattered across the coffee table, some stacked neatly, others abandoned wherever somebody had last dropped them.
Nancy sat curled into one corner of the couch with a blanket pulled over her legs despite the warm weather outside. Jonathan occupied the armchair beside her, one ankle balanced across his knee while he absent-mindedly flipped through some more tapes.
The second Nancy looked up and spotted you, her face softened, shifting gently from her comfortable position as if to welcome you in. "Hey, Wilson."
Something about her smile immediately made you feel less like an intruder. "Hey."
"How's Evelyn?" She leant over to the coffee table to grab a small handful of the popcorn from the bowl that Steve had just placed down.
You shrugged out of your sweatshirt slightly, a soft smile against your lips as you thought back to what Nancy said to you the other night about your Grandmother. "She’s great, Julie's currently attempting to bankrupt her in Monopoly."
"That sounds about right,” Nancy chuckled as she popped a piece into her mouth, a small smirk toying the edge of her lips as her head tilted to Jonathan sat beside her. “Jonathan claims he’s the best at Monopoly, but I think it’s the money he hides up his sleeves when we play.”
"Wh– No, I do not," Jonathan laughed gently from beside her, shaking his own head as he tossed the rest of the tapes he was looking through onto the table.
“Oh, you so do, man.” A deeper voice called out. But the voice didn't come from Nancy, it came from the floor.
You looked down and finally noticed the man comfortably sprawled across the carpet. He was sporting long dark curls that fanned out around his head, one of his arms tucked beneath his head while the other reached lazily toward a bowl of pretzels balanced nearby.
He looked up at you, his eyebrows twisting together as he brought his finger up to point at you. "Who are you?"
The question was so direct it nearly made you laugh, you offered him your name gently. "I’m Evelyn’s granddaughter, Steve’s neighbour." He nodded thoughtfully, shovelling a few pretzels in his mouth before you spoke again. "Who are you?"
Your blunt response seemed to delight him, Robin immediately barked out a laugh from the kitchen. The man sat upright dramatically, "Oh, I’m Eddie. Munson." He placed a hand against his chest. "Musician, Dungeon Master, at this point I’m basically a local celebrity."
"That last one is self-inflicted," Robin called as she wandered back into the living room with a few beers tucked under her arms, handing them around the group before holding one out to you. She noticed your hesitation, so she pushed it into your hand before she slumped into her seat with a wide grin.
You found yourself smiling despite yourself, twisting the cap off as Eddie pointed up at you with a wild grin. "See? She gets me."
"I don't think I do." You laughed softly, your eyes scanning the room quickly before you settled into an empty space on the couch.
"Perfect. Then you'll fit in great." The room erupted into familiar groans. Clearly this wasn't new, none of them took him seriously and clearly Eddie loved every second of it.
Steve slinked into the room a few moments later, settling next to you with ease as Jonathan started telling the group about someone his Mom saw at Melvald’s yesterday, earning a few gasps from the group. You were suddenly aware that everybody seemed to know everybody, not just names but history and shared memories.
The conversation drifted around you almost immediately to a story about a disastrous school dance that everyone still remembered fondly, then an old teacher of Steve’s who came into Family Video renting an x-rated movie before realising who was behind the counter.
You smiled when everybody else smiled, laughed along when everybody else laughed. But after a while you found yourself simply listening and trying to piece together years of friendship from fragments.
Nancy noticed first. You could tell by the way she occasionally paused to explain something quietly, who somebody was, why something was funny. It was a small gesture, but enough to stop you feeling completely lost.
The conversation moved quickly through weekly catchups to years of history packed into every sentence. You found yourself staring at the labels on the VHS tapes instead, Ghostbusters. Back to the Future. The Goonies. The Lost Boys. Your fingers drifted absent-mindedly over the worn plastic cases.
"You got a favourite?" Steve's gentle voice pulled you from your thoughts.
You glanced over, he had leant out of the conversation with his friends to lean closer to you as his eyes followed yours to the movies. "Oh," You picked up one of the tapes. "We watched this one so many times my dad actually hid it from us."
Steve laughed gently, settling back in his seat as he took a sip from his bottle of beer, nodding to the tape in your hands. "What was it?"
You turned the box around with a wide grin, showing it to him. "The Princess Bride."
Robin immediately pointed from across the room, her mouth slightly full from the popcorn. "Oh, great choice."
Steve turned himself to you slightly as he lifted his arm to rest it on the back of the couch, resting the bottle on his knee as he spoke. "So, Wilson. What kind of stuff did you get up to back home?"
You blinked up at him, the question felt strangely simple but nobody interrupted, nobody changed the subject. For the first time all evening, everybody seemed content to listen. You glanced around the room to meet six pairs of eyes looking back at you and waiting.
And suddenly you realised Steve had done it on purpose, the conversation hadn't naturally landed on you. He'd noticed you drifting from their conversation that you had no idea what they were talking about most of the time. A small warmth settled somewhere in your chest.
"We mostly spent summers at the lake," You admitted with a small shrug, your nails scratching at the label on your beer as you looked amongst the group. "My dad taught me and Julie how to fish as soon as we could hold a rod."
"You fish?" Eddie asked immediately, a shocked look across his face as he leant over from the floor to grab a new bottle.
You laughed, nodding your head gently as you pursed your lips gently. "Quite terribly, but I’ve had some luck."
And just like that, the room relaxed around you. The conversation shifted again, but this time with you, and for the first time since walking into Steve’s house you stopped feeling like somebody else’s guest.
Eventually, the last of the laughter faded into the hallway and out of the house by the time the front door finally clicked shut behind Nancy, Jonathan, Robin and Eddie, who said he’d drop everyone home in his van. He offered to drive you, but you joked that you didn’t need to be driven across the road.
Steve let out a long breath as he leant his weight against the back of the couch, starting at the mess that had accumulated across the room. “Somehow, I think we used more cups tonight than I have in the last three months combined.”
You let out a small laugh as you pushed yourself up from your seat next to him, bending down to grab a few empty bottles from the coffee table. “It’s okay, it’ll be quick to clean up.”
Steve shook his head quickly, standing up and grabbing the few bottles from your arms that you’d accumulated. “No, no, Wilson. You’re my guest–”
“It’s okay, Steve,” You laughed gently as you pulled the bottles back and shrugged them under your arm, flashing him a small smile. “I want to help.”
There was a small pause, like he was deciding whether to argue. His eyebrows furrowed gently as he looked you over, letting out a soft sigh as he nodded once. “Okay, yeah. Sure. Help me then, Wilson.”
You gave him a look over your shoulder as you rounded the table to grab the rest of the bottles, filling up your other arm. “I hate to say that you were right, but your friends really are nice.”
Steve beamed at your words, “Well thank you, Wilson. I’m glad you now understand that my friendship circle does not just involve kids and your Grandma.”
A small laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. The two of you moved around the living room in a loose rhythm after that with Steve collecting glasses and taking them through to the kitchen, and you gathering up the stray bowls and wrappers and placing them on the table. He disappeared and reappeared with an armful of VHS tapes, muttering something about Eddie’s ‘physically incapable of respecting a single organisational system.’
You dropped onto your knees beside the coffee table, bending over to pick up the last few bits of popcorn that had escaped the bowl. Steve came back into the living room, his arms crossed as watched you for a moment. He stood there quietly, like he was thinking about something but hadn’t decided whether to say it yet.
“What?” You asked without looking up, feeling his presence from behind you.
He blinked slightly, realising he’d been caught. “Nothing.” He grabbed the pile of bowls you’d accumulated and walked them through to the kitchen. You pushed yourself back up and dropped the rest of the popcorn into the bowl before following him.
You placed the bowl onto the counter with a clatter, causing Steve to turn around and look at you. You quizzed him with a look, your eyebrow raised gently as if asking him what he wanted without using your words.
Steve let out a sigh, feeling defeated under your gaze. He abandoned a cup into the sink before turning around and leant back against the counter to face you with his arms folded over his chest. “I was just wondering what you’re gonna get up to next week.”
You paused for a second, tilting your head at him as you leant your hand on the edge of the counter. “Next week?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged easily, his eyes narrowing at you as he shifted slightly on his feet.
You shrugged lightly, stacking the last of the rubbish into a neat pile. “I don’t know. Probably the same as this week, Julie will drag me somewhere, Evelyn will try to feed us too much food again. I’ll read a bit and try not to go completely insane in a small town.”
Steve huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds pretty nice, actually.” He pushed himself off the counter, rounding the kitchen to you as he grabbed the bowl of popcorn from next to you and turned to pour the remnants in the trash. “Have you ever been to the lake out past the woods?”
“There’s a lake?” You watched him place the bowl next to the sink, so you walked past him toward it and began running the tap with warm water.
His eyes followed you as you passed him, giving you a look like you’d just admitted something offensive, “It’s Hawkins. How have you not heard of Lover’s Lake?”
You laughed softly as you pulled up the sleeves of your sweatshirt so they wouldn’t get wet. “Steve, the last time I was here I was six, I don’t remember much. And I definitely wasn’t going anywhere called Lover’s Lake.”
Steve laughed at your comment, but nodded along like that made sense. “Well, I’ve got a spot.”
You turned your head to look over at him, one of your eyebrows quirking up slightly. “You have a spot? At Lover’s Lake?”
“Well, yeah,” He said, like it was obvious as he walked over to lean his back against the counter next to you. “It’s quiet, not the main bit where everyone goes. You can actually hear yourself think.”
You studied him for a second. He didn’t look like he was joking or showing off, just offering you a place of solace in case you found yourself needing it. “Well, I was just planning on just finding somewhere and reading.”
“You can still read,” He said quickly as he turned his body to face you then added, a little softer, “It’s just better there.”
You looked away first, clearing your throat gently as you grabbed a glass and began to clean it. “Okay. When?”
“Whenever you want,” He said with a small grin, tilting his head gently as he leant his weight on his hand. “Robin and I swapped shifts so I’m free on Tuesday, I can take you then?”
You glanced back at him, a small tightening feeling pressing on your chest at the thought of Steve taking you to Lover’s Lake, alone. “So, you’re just offering to drive me to a random lake because I mentioned reading?”
Steve shrugged, like the idea wasn’t a big deal at all. “Yeah, and I figured Julie would probably like it too.”
That made your expression soften before you could stop it, of course he’d thought of that. You exhaled through your nose gently as you nodded, washing the same glass for much longer than necessary. “Okay,” You mumbled.
Steve’s eyebrows lifted slightly, ducking his head as if to hear you better. “Okay?”
“Okay,” You repeated, a little more definite this time with a soft laugh as you looked up at him. “Okay, you can take us.”
A grin spread across his face before he could contain it, spinning to face the sink as he grabbed a towel to start drying off the glasses you were placing on the drying rack. “Sounds good.”
You pointed at him, a few bubbles flying off of your finger and into the air as your eyebrows raised up at him. “But if there are bugs, you’re driving me home.”
“There are definitely bugs, Wilson, it’s the middle of summer and we’re going to be at the lake.” He said like it was obvious, his lips quirking into a small smirk as your expression grew more serious, like you weren’t joking. He held up both hands defensively, the towel knocking his sweater gently. “I’ll bring bug spray.”
You hummed gently, taking his expression before nodding and going back to washing the last few glasses in the sink. “That better not be a lie, Harrington. I expect the best kind of bug spray you own.”
“It’s not.” He laughed gently, then he added softly like it just occurred to him, “You’ll like it there Wilson, promise.”
You hesitated. Something about the way he said it wasn’t pushy, almost like he was quietly placing a piece of a plan into your hand and trusting you wouldn’t drop it. You picked up the last soapy glass from the sink. “We’ll see.”
“Yeah,” He said, you looked up at him and were faced with that same bright smile he offered you seven days ago when you stumbled into him in Evelyn’s kitchen, “We will.”
Maybe Hawkins wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
steve harrington x fem reader | best friends to strangers to lovers | slow burn... like 8 years slow burn | miscommunication | bestfriend!steve, neighbour!steve, rockstar!steve | set in 90s & 00s | eventual smut
summary: you and steve were joint at the hip since birth. your neighbour, your confidant, your person. after graduation, you didn’t speak for six years, until you see him on stage performing in a band with your roommates new boyfriend. except when you’re introduced, he acts as if he doesn’t know who you are. pretending that he didn't follow you to new york and doesn’t write all of his songs about you.
cw: swearing, alcohol, sexual tension
an: thank you so much for all of the love on the series so far! i really am so glad that people are enjoying it <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter too!!!!!
wc: 8.6k
• .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
20th February, 1998
Hawkins, Indiana
The bell that pours through the classrooms on a Friday afternoon always feels louder, like it’s celebrating that it’s the weekend. Lockers are slammed shut hard enough to make the walls rattle, sneakers squeaking against the waxed floors, voices overlapping in every direction as everyone rushes out of school like the building might explode if they stick around for another minute.
Somewhere behind you, you can hear someone already making plans for a bonfire by the quarry, someone else arguing over whose turn it is to buy beer. But you barely hear any of it, your books are tucked tightly against your chest as you make your way toward the front doors, with Robin rambling beside you about what movie you’re bringing to watch on Sunday.
“How many times do we have to argue about this, Blue?” She says dramatically, hands waving in front of her as though she’s presenting a life-changing revelation instead of arguing about a Christmas movie. “We watched Home Alone probably seventeen times in December, we’re on a ban now until at least Thanksgiving. ”
You huff out a laugh, faking a small pout of your lips as you glance over at her. “Thanksgiving? Come on, Memorial Day, at least.”
Robin’s eyebrows scrunch together at your suggestion, shaking her head. “God, fine. We can revisit closer to the time. But for now, Thanksgiving.”
You let out a dramatic sigh, lifting your spare hand to push through the front doors into the cold February air. The parking lot is chaos, engines starting, doors slamming, clusters of students standing around cars like nobody has anywhere to be. The sky hangs heavy and grey overhead, the kind of afternoon that threatens rain without ever committing to it.
You’re halfway through telling Robin she has terrible taste in movies, pressing her on how is it possible for her not to love Home Alone, when she suddenly pauses. “Oh shit,” she mutters, quietly but enough to break you from your rant.
You blink up at her, “What?” Her expression shifts into something unreadable. Immediately, you feel your stomach sink. “What is that face?” You ask slowly.
But before she can answer, your eyes follow where hers are already looking. Steve and Tammy, for a second your brain doesn’t understand what it’s seeing. Steve always drives you both home on Fridays, why is Tammy now everywhere you look? Movie night, she’s even started sitting with you guys at lunch, and now she’s hitching a ride with you.
Steve is leaning against the side of his car with one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his jacket, Tammy is stood in front of him with both of her hands resting comfortably against his chest. When your eyes trail the scene further, your heart skips at the sight of one of Steve’s hands sitting comfortably in the back pocket of Tammy’s jeans.
Robin shifts awkwardly beside you, you can feel her hand wrapping around your arm as if to pull you from the trance that you’re in. “Blue–”
But you barely hear, because you see Tammy lean in. You see Steve catch her lips with his with ease, his hand slipping from his pocket to her back to pull her closer against him. The worst part is that it’s not some movie kiss that you’d dreamt of having with Steve, not passionate, it’s just easy like something people do when they already belong to one another.
You feel stupid. Stupid for every stupid thought you’d had since Steve’s birthday party. Every moment you’d laid awake at night replaying the conversation you’d had at his birthday, I didn’t want our first kiss to happen like that. How could you think that it meant something? You’d spent weeks waiting, waiting for him to make a move and finally choose. Apparently, he had, it just wasn’t you.
When you finally break your eyes away, Robin looks horrified. Her face contorting in disgust at the public display of affection in the middle of the car park. “Oh my God.”
You shake yourself out of your thoughts to force a laugh, a horrible, fake little thing. “What?”
“Blue–” Robin’s voice is gentle, and when you catch her eyes your stomach twists at the sympathetic look that’s drawn across her face.
“What?” You repeat, sharper this time, your throat tightening as you speak. “He can kiss whoever he wants, I don’t care.”
Robin studies your face, ducking her head slightly as if to shield you from the world, her concern laced through her soft voice. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You ask quickly, you shift your books higher against your chest as if to hide behind them and hide from everyone else around you. “Steve and Tammy. Cool. Great. Whatever.”
Your words come out clipped, like if you let yourself slow down even for one second, something ugly might spill out. Across the parking lot, Steve says something that makes Tammy laugh again, the sound travelling through the air and punching you in the gut.
Then, his eyes lift straight toward you and for half a second, your stomach flips because maybe he’ll look guilty, maybe surprised. Instead he lifts his hand and waves at you and Robin, like everything is normal. Like he didn’t just crack something open inside your ribs.
“Hey!” He calls out and you hate that your heart still reacts to his voice. You lift your hand to wave back, forcing a tight smile across your lips. “You guys coming?”
Robin takes a few steps toward Steve, Tammy and the beamer, not realising that you’ve spun on your heels and walked in the complete opposite direction.
“Wh– Blue?” Robin calls after you, quick to catch up with you and grab ahold of your arm and spin you around to face her.
“I gotta go,” You say. “I promised Mason that I’d help him with something.” You didn’t, but suddenly you need to be literally anywhere except here. You spin on your heels again, shrugging yourself from her grasp and walk fast. Fast enough that the cold air burns your lungs, and fast enough that if Steve or Robin calls your name again, you don’t hear it.
Later that night, your house feels too quiet. Mason’s in the garage messing around with something on his car while your parents are downstairs watching TV. You’re upstairs sprawled across your bed in sweatpants, pretending to do homework while absolutely nothing sinks in.
You can’t stop thinking about Tammy’s hand on Steve’s jacket, Steve’s hand in Tammy’s pocket. The ease of it, the way he kissed her like he’d kissed her a hundred times before. You turn onto your side aggressively, rumpling your maths homework beneath you as you let out a frustrated groan.
You feel stupid. Of course Steve Harrington doesn’t like you. He’s your best friend, he has been for years and deep down you knew that he’d never want to ruin that. Steve Harrington likes girls like Tammy Thompson. Pretty girls. Girls who don’t spend weeks overthinking every tiny thing someone says.
And right on que, shaking you from your spiraling thoughts, your phone on your bedside table rings. You know who it is, you know that if you’re not together already, Steve always calls around this time to ask what the plans are for tonight. You think about letting it go to your answering machine, but you know that will result in a knock on your door in a minute and a half and you definitely don’t have the stomach to face him right now. So, you pick up the phone.
“Took you forever,” Steve says immediately. His voice is warm, you can practically hear the smile in his voice like nothing happened today and that makes something bitter twists in your chest.
“Sorry.” You say flatly, shifting on your mattress in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable enough to endure the rest of this conversation.
“Are you alright, Blue?” His voice is soft, and that only makes your chest ache even more.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your eyes squint shut as your forehead falls to the palm of your hand, you can’t even act mad with him without feeling guilty.
“Well,” He clears his throat awkwardly, “Me and Robin are gonna go see Men in Black at the Hawk tonight. Do you wanna come? Starts at half eight.”
The question hurts more than it should, because suddenly all you can picture is the last time you watched a movie with Steve. Tammy practically sat on his lap. Tammy laughing at his stupid jokes. Tammy whispering in his stupid ear. Tammy, Tammy, Tammy.
“No.” The word comes out sharper than intended, you clear your throat gently. “I have plans.”
“With who?” He huffs a gentle laugh, and you know what he’s thinking. If you’re not spending your night with Steve or Robin, what else would you be doing? Nancy, Johnathan and Eddie are all busy tonight, and you don’t know that he realises that must mean Sam. And his pulse spikes at the thought.
“Mason.” You say quickly, trying to end this conversation as quickly as you can so you can go back to spiraling on your own.
He barks out another laugh, almost with relief. “You’re hanging out with your brother on a Friday night?”
“What’s wrong with that? I don’t have to spend every waking moment with you and Robin.” You regretted your words as soon as you said them, you knew that you were only upset right now because Steve chose someone else but somehow you couldn’t help it.
You can practically hear Steve’s mind trying to figure out what had happened, what he’d done to quite clearly piss you off so much. “Did I do something?”
The question catches you off guard, your grip on the phone tightening around your fingers. “No.” You couldn’t admit that you’re upset because he kissed someone, you may as well just tell him that you love him right here right now.
“Blue.” He speaks softly, his warm voice causing your eyes to screw shut as you let out a soft sigh.
“What, Steve?”
“You seem mad.” He said quickly.
“I’m not mad.” You let out a hollow laugh, sitting up on your mattress and scooting closer to the receiver of the phone, knowing that you needed to hang up soon before you made things worse.
“You sure sound mad.”
“Well, I’m not.” You paused then, waiting for him to say something but it doesn’t come.
“Okay.” He says quietly. Something in your chest aches because he sounds confused, like he genuinely has no idea why you’re upset. “Well,” He says eventually, voice softer now, “I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”
You swallow tightly, softly nodding your head even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, sure.”
“Okay.” Neither of you hang up, suddenly it feels like neither of you know how. “Night, Blue.”
You’re quick to click the phone down after that, your bedside table shaking gently as you do so. A frustrated groan leaves your lips as you lean back on your bed, your mind inevitably returning back to goddamn Tammy Thompson.
A few hours later, the beamer is parked outside Robin’s house, and she climbs into Steve’s car twenty minutes late carrying an unreasonable amount of candy. “You’re late, Buckley.” Steve tuts, quick to turn on the growling engine and take off down the street.
Robin pulls down the mirror attached to the roof of the car, fixing her hair between her fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here, aren’t I?” She flashes Steve a toothy grin, causing a roll from his eyes as his elbow rests on the window of his car.
“Took you long enough, I’m practically going gray over here.” His hand motioned to his hair with exasperation, quickly looking over at her which now earns an eye roll from her.
Robin pushes the mirror back up and glances over to the back seat, her eyebrows scrunching together once she notices your absence. “I thought you’d pick up Blue first?”
Steve clears his throat gently, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel before turning off of Robins street. His eyes glance to his rear view mirror, silently hoping that you’d somehow spawn in his back seat out of nowhere. “She’s not coming. Said she’s got plans with him tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Mason.” She nodded quickly backing up your story, remembering the scene after school where you stomped off. “You didn’t invite Tammy instead?”
“Tammy?” Steve glances over at Robin with a confused look, quick to look back out onto the road. “Why would I invite Tammy?”
“Because you guys were literally making out in the parking lot earlier.” She laughed at her words as if she was pointing out the obvious, leaning down to fish her hand in her handbag to grab a lip balm.
“We kissed, so what?” He retorted, shrugging a shoulder as if this was something he did regularly, going around and kissing girls to pass the time while he waited to give you a ride home.
“So what?” Robin spoke through her application, popping the lid back on before leaning back comfortably in her seat. “You’re literally disgustingly, hopelessly, dramatically in love with Blue. I don’t get why you’re wasting your time with Tammy.”
“Robin.” Steve warns, his cheeks heating up as his hands grip around the steering wheel, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I know you’ve had this crazy idea in your head for like, two years, but I don’t love Blue.”
Robin barks a laugh beside him, nodding her head along with his words playfully. “Yeah, sure.” She looks over at him for a moment, before letting out a gentle sigh. “Look, you can sit there and deny your feelings for her ‘til you’re blue in the face, but you’re forgetting that I know you better than anyone. I can tell by the way you look at her, you don’t need to admit it to me but at least admit it to yourself.”
He looks at her over his arm, taking in the sincere look on Robin’s face that he only sees once in a blue moon. He takes in a short breath, his shoulders settling gently before he speaks. “Well, even if you’re right,” He shoots her a look with the emphasis on ‘if’, ignoring the sparkle in her eye, “She’s with Sam now, she likes him, I can tell.”
Robin’s lips purse together as she listens, nodding gently as they’re pulling up to the Hawk, Steve pulls into a parking space as she takes in a deep breath to speak. “Well, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times,” She waits until the engine is off before continuing, “You’re not going to get what you want if you don’t tell her how you feel. I bet you’d be surprised.”
Steve just rolls his eyes at her as they both get out of the car and make their way to the entrance of the movie theatre, he truly had heard this a million times before.
Once the movie is finished, Steve drops Robin home. The radio hums softly between them as they talk about the movie, Robin gushing about how great Will Smith’s performance was. The car is quiet after she’s dropped off, Elton John on the radio filling up the silence as he drives along the empty roads home.
As he’s rounding the street leading to his house, he spots two figures in the distance walking along the sidewalk. He pulled the car to a quiet stop, he knew that yellow raincoat from anywhere.
Under the warm streetlights, you were walking toward your house with Sam close next to you, your fingertips brushing as he was walking you home. He sees your shoulders shaking with laughter and he’s quick to turn off the radio and lean his ear closer to the cracked window just to hear it.
Steve’s fingers tighten around the wheel, he should just round into his driveway and wave at the two of you like nothing's wrong. As the two of you reach your house, Steve leans closer to the wheel to get a better look.
Sam lifts his fingers to push your hair behind your ear, and Steve recognises the warm smile you’re giving him as he’s been on the receiving end of it countless times, he even sometimes sees it before he falls asleep. Sam’s fingers hold the back of your head as he ducks his head down to yours, pressing his lips against yours softly.
Steve is silently hoping, praying that you’ll push him off of you, that you’ll turn around and walk into your house like this didn’t even happen. But he feels his heart break as your hand finds Sam’s arm, pulling him closer to you as you seemingly deepen the kiss.
It feels like hours that Steve’s sitting there watching you kiss another guy, he feels dirty. He feels like he’s invading a private moment, but he’s waited too long to pull up to his house now. He waits until Sam finally says goodnight, he notices that Sam starts walking home before you’ve reached your front door.
Steve waits a few minutes before quietly starting his car up again and drives into his driveway. As he turns off the car, he pops open the glove compartment and looks at the cassette he’d planned on giving you last week. He slams it shut and makes his way inside, and for the first time in as long as he could possibly remember, possibly ever, he doesn’t call you before he goes to bed.
7th May, 2006
New York City, New York
Something feels different when you wake up this morning. The distant hums of traffic filtering through the window, the steady and quiet rhythm of someone else’s breathing. The warm and grounding feeling of someone's arms draped around your waist. You don’t move at first, laying on your back and finding yourself locked as you can only lie there staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of his snore pulling you back to reality, turning your head to see him.
Steve. Sleeping peacefully on his side and facing you, one arm tucked loosely under your pillow and the other holding you in place, close to him like this is exactly where you belong and he doesn’t plan on letting you go. His hair is a mess, flattened slightly on one side and messily curled at the ends.
Your chest tightens as you remember the night before. The kiss, the interruption, making your way to your bedroom where you spent the better part of three hours looking into each other's eyes and holding each other close as you kissed as if you both couldn’t bare to let one another go.
You let out a slow breath, your eyes tracing the lines of his face like you’re trying to memorise something you already know too well. His lashes flicker slightly, causing you to freeze even though you haven’t moved since you opened your eyes. He inhales, deeper this time, then his eyes flutter open.
For a second, he just looks at you. There’s no confusion, no panic across his face. Just Steve. “Hey.” He murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, the hoarse tone sends a small shiver down your spine to your belly.
“Hey.” You respond, taking in a short breath as your voice comes out softer than you intended. There’s a pause, a few moments where neither of you are moving but just staring at each other, almost like you both can’t believe you’re tangled together.
You notice his mouth curve slightly at the corner, his fingers splaying on your waist as his fingertips graze your skin. “You’re staring, Blue.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re in my bed.” You let out a small huff, trying your hardest not to return his smirk.
“Mm,” He hums, lifting his head from the pillow and finally breaking eye contact with you to look around your bedroom and taking in all of the details in the morning light that he didn’t remember from the night before. “Good point.” He mumbles before settling his head back against the pillow, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his breath on your skin causing a soft laugh to leave your lips.
Before realising, you’re turning your body closer to him as his hand snakes around your waist. You’re facing him fully now, his fingers running up and down your spine as your hand braces on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut.
He lifts his head slightly, causing your eyes to open and catch yours again, “Did we–” He starts, before stopping himself.
“No, we didn’t.” The words left your lips softly, a small shake of your head as your fingers lifted from his shoulder to push the curls falling over his eyes backwards, a soft sigh leaving his lips as your fingers settle at the nape of his neck.
He nods once, his own hand sliding up your back to slink through your hair. Your eyes are glued to his, noticing the golden specks in the sunlight that you haven’t seen for years. A small smirk grows on his lips as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, your foot tenderly running up and down his shin.
As he begins to pull you closer to him by the back of your head, your phone buzzes from the bedside table on the other side of him. You both pause, your eyes flickering over to the phone before you feel his fingers tighten around your curls. A small huff leaves your lips as he goes to pull you closer again when your phone buzzes again.
A loud groan leaves his lips, throwing his head backwards as his hand falls from your hair and resides at the small of your back. You laugh gently, crawling over his body to grab your phone. You push it open to read a text from Haley.
Hey, babe! I’m about ten minutes away.
Hope you’re awake. Can’t wait to see you! X
Steve’s lips softly graze your neck as you hover over him, your stomach dropping as you read the words across your screen. You press your spare hand to his chest, pushing yourself up off of him to sit up on your knees. He lets out a groan at the loss of contact, his hand reaching out to rest on your knee.
“Haley’s ten minutes away, you’ve got to go.” You manage, flipping your phone round to show him the screen. He sits up at your words, his eyes squinting as he leans forward to read the text.
“Ten minutes, that’s plenty of time.” He shrugs gently, his hand squeezing your skin gently as he takes his time swinging his legs off the bed, stretching his arms above his head as you scramble behind him.
“Plenty of time? Steve, you have to go, now.” You practically leap off the mattress, grabbing his discarded shirt off the floor and throwing it toward him. You make your way over to your mirror, grabbing your hairbrush from your dresser and dragging it through your hair in an attempt to make yourself presentable.
You catch Steve’s reflection behind you, still perched on the edge of your bed watching you as he pulls his shirt over his head. You can’t help but think back to the last time you kissed Steve and then caught a look at him through your mirror in this way, the night of your graduation party, before everything went wrong.
Your body turns to look over at him, and you can’t help the small smile that grows on your lips as you can practically read the look he’s giving you, begging you to let him stay. You place the hairbrush down and walk back to him, slotting yourself between his knees as his hands steady the back of your legs as he looks up at you.
“I’m sorry, but you’re the one that said we should keep this quiet, Steve. Just until we figure out where we stand.” Your voice comes out softly, your hands settling on his shoulders as he nods gently, flashing you a small smile.
“Yeah, I know, you just look so beautiful in the morning.” His grip squeezes the backs of your legs gently, causing you to let out a small laugh as you lull your head back, twisting it around slowly to look back down at him as he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach.
“C’mon, Steve.” You take a step backwards, and he begrudgingly pulls himself up with a loud groan as he follows you out of your bedroom and into the hallway to collect his jacket that hung on the chair and his shoes that had scattered across the room.
You stood with your back against the front door, glancing at the clock and watching the minutes tick down before Haley would appear behind you and you’d have to explain why Steve Harrington was in your apartment. You watched as he made his way to you, a soft smile against your lips as your hand touched the cold metal doorknob.
As you pull the door open, you poke your head out into the hallway to make sure Haley wasn’t barrelling toward you. You take a step backward to let Steve through, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he turns on his feet to look down at you.
“I had a really good time last night,” He spoke your name softly, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as a herd of butterflies exploded in your stomach and pulsed up through your body.
All you could manage was a soft nod, leaning your head against the door as your teeth sank into your lower lip. “Me too, Steve.” You straighten yourself as he goes to speak, he stops himself before he can say anything else and instead leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll call you tonight. Yeah?” He calls out as he walks backward down the hallway, his chin tucking into his neck as he straightens his eyes on you. You nod and offer him a wave, watching as he disappears down the stairwell. You find yourself standing in the doorway and listening to his footsteps descend until you hear him leaving the front of the building.
You step back into your apartment and shut the door behind you. The wood is cold against your back, and your eyes scan the state of the room that you both had left behind the night before. You curse under your breath as you hurry to straighten the cushions on the sofa and get rid of the beer cans that Steve had hunted from the fridge.
Before you even had a minute to think, the front door swung open with a bright and loud presence filling the apartment. “I’m home!” Haley called, dragging her small suitcase through the hallway before she sees you sitting on the couch, pretending to read a magazine that you’d only picked up once you’d heard her key in the door.
She squeals gently, barrelling through the apartment and collapses onto the couch beside you, her arms wrapping around you that elicits a loud laugh from your lips and your arms to pull around her.
“I missed you!” She speaks into your hair before she pulls back, her hands gripping your arms like she’s checking you for any changes. Anyone would find it hard to believe she’d only been gone since Friday.
“I missed you too, honey.” Your words felt warm on your chest as you smiled at her, settling back against the couch getting ready to listen to all the stories she’s inevitably going to tell you about her weekend. “So, how was it?”
She started by letting out a loud sigh, “Boston was..” She makes a face like she doesn’t have the words to describe what she’s feeling. “God. It was perfect, he planned absolutely everything. There was this cute little cafe he took me to on the first morning, then we walked along the river.”
Her words were spilling out faster than she could keep up with them. Your heart warms as she speaks, your own smile brightening across your lips. You loved hearing her gush about Chris as you could see how happy he made her. Maybe it was because of the night you spent with Steve last night, but you still felt the butterflies that he left you with this morning.
She studies your face for a second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she waves a hand over your face. “You there?”
“Yeah, sorry.” You shook your head slightly, shaking yourself out of your thoughts of Steve as you placed your hand on her knee. “I’m here.”
She grinned before continuing, “He got us tickets to this show on Saturday night,” She spoke, you pulled a scrunchie off your wrist and began pulling your hair up off of your shoulders and your neck, tying it into a ponytail.
Haley stopped in her tracks, her eyes dancing over the skin of your neck. You leant back slightly, eyebrows furrowing as her eyebrows raised and her mouth formed into a small O shape.
“What.. Is that?” She lifted her finger and poked your neck, you tutted gently as your fingers covered the spot that she just poked.
“What?” You lifted yourself off of the couch and walked to a mirror on the wall opposite you both. Your eyes danced across your skin until it landed on a small bruise on your neck, an unwarranted gift that Steve had apparently left you with. “Oh, that. I burnt myself, with my curling iron.”
Haley practically leapt off of the couch, rising to her feet. “Oh, honey. Don’t play dumb with me.” She had a mischievous grin across her lips as she rounded the coffee table, walking over to you until she stood beside you in the mirror, inspecting the hickey on your skin.
You felt your heart beat in your chest, your temple, your fingertips, on every nerve ending in your body. You lowered your hand and rolled your head backward, letting out a loud sigh before looking at Haley.
“Who is he?” She giggled, practically jumping in place as she wrapped her hands around your arm, dragging you back to the spot on the sofa where you’d both just been sitting.
“He’s no-one, Haley. Really.” Your eyes widened at your words as your hand came up to press against the bruised skin, awkwardly shuffling in your seat as you felt Haley’s gaze dancing across every inch of skin you had visible.
“Oh, come on. I wasn’t born yesterday, I could tell by your face when I was talking about Chris that you’re thinking about someone. The apartment also reeked of aftershave when I came in, who is he? Is it Dan?” Haley's words were laced with excitement, shifting up onto her knees at the thought of you and Dan together.
“No, no. It’s not Dan.” You laughed gently, as you shook your head gently you couldn’t help but think of what Steve would say if Haley thought the marks that he’d left you had been from Dan, the jealous glint in his eye that you’d come to familiarise yourself with recently.
“Oh my god, it’s Dan!” Haley squealed as she clapped her hands together excitedly, like she’d just won the lottery. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone. Not even Chris, I knew Dan liked you but I thought you cut things off with him. Oh my God, think of the double dates we can go on! We’ll have so much fun when they go on tour, we can even–”
“It’s not Dan, Haley.” You interrupted as you took in a sharp breath, leaning over to place your hands over hers to calm down her words. “Look, I went out for drinks with some girls from college last night and I got a bit carried away. It was just some guy, really.”
You swallowed down the lies you were feeding your best friend with immense guilt. There’d been hundreds of times over the years that you’d thought about telling Haley everything, but every time you got close the words would catch in your throat. You could feel them bubbling up right now, practically dancing against the tip of your tongue but all you can do is bite down on it.
Haley’s shoulders dropped before she nodded softly at your words, her mouth contorting sadly to the side. “Well, I’m glad you had a fun night either way. I just want you to be happy, sweetie.” She offered you a gentle shrug, and you returned her words with a bright smile.
“Oh, Haley.” You let out a soft laugh as you shifted closer to her, your hand squeezing her knee as you leant your head down against her shoulder. “I am happy, really. I’ve got a great job, I’ve got you. I’m all set.” You beamed as she squeezed you back, the guilt of Haley not knowing the real reason for your smile this morning pressing against your chest.
“As long as you’re sure. I’m gonna go and unpack, then I’m going to go meet Chris for some dinner. D’you wanna come with?” She asked you softly, squeezing your hand as she lifted to her feet, swaying her arms gently as she looked down at you.
You thought to Steve’s words earlier, telling him that he’d call you later and you definitely didn’t want to miss that. You were quick to shake your head with a soft smile, “I’ve got work in the morning so I’m gonna get an early night, but thank you.”
Haley nodded at your words before she wandered off to wherever she’d left her suitcase, dragging it into her bedroom to unpack her things. You slumped back on the sofa, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even realise you were holding, and thought about how much easier things would be if you were just honest.
7th May, 2006
New York City, New York
Across town, Steve stumbled into Chris’s apartment not long after he’d left yours, he was met with no sounds from the radio, or the TV, just the low hum of the fridge and the sound of Steve’s footprints pacing back and forth against the tiled floor in the kitchen with Chris watching him closely as he leant against the counter with a beer glued to his hand, his eyes following the path that Steve had been pacing for the last ten minutes.
“Are you gonna settle down? Or are you burning off all your energy before you finally tell me whatever’s going on?” Chris quizzes, bringing the neck of the bottle and swallowing the liquid that was definitely too early on a Sunday morning to be nursing.
Steve let out a frustrated huff, dragging a hand through his hair as he glanced over at Chris before back to the spot on the floor that he had just been focused on. “I’m not unsettled, I just – Just hold on.”
“I’ve been holding on for like ten minutes, man. Just spit it out already.” Chris laughed, pushing his hand out to Steve as if to hurry him up.
Steve ignores Chris’s comment, slowing his pace down as he collects his thoughts, like he’s trying to line up all the thoughts in his head like they keep slipping out of place. “I – I saw her.” Steve finally croaks out as his steps come to a halt, finally looking up at Chris.
“Her who? I’m gonna need a little more than that, man.” Chris tipped the bottle back before spinning it around between his fingers, lifting his arms to cross over his chest.
“The girl from Hawkins, the one I was all fucked up over.” Steve gritted through his teeth, cringing as he thought back to Chris telling that story to you a few weeks ago.
Something shifts in Chris’s face, “Oh, her.” He straightens against the counter as he settles his beer down next to him. “I didn’t even know she was here.”
There’s a pause in the air, Chris studying him more closely now as he pieces things together. Steve doesn’t say anything, just leans against the counter opposite to Chris, not able to make eye contact with him. “Right, okay, you saw her. What happened?”
Steve lets out a short, disbelieving laugh like he can’t believe what he’s about to say. He tips his head back and it knocks against the upper cabinet slightly, his words a soft murmur. “I kissed her.”
Chris mirrors Steve’s laugh, his eyebrows scrunching slightly as if he can’t put together what’s being laid out in front of him. “Wait, you kissed her? You what, just ran into her on the street and kissed her?”
“No, God no. It wasn’t like that. We’ve kind of been seeing each other here and there, talking for a while now.” Steve explained with a small shrug, his arms snaking to cross over his chest as if to hide behind them.
“And you didn’t think to mention that the mystery girl who broke your heart is suddenly back in your life?”
“I didn’t know how to.” Steve knew that telling Chris before talking to you about it could be a mistake. But he told Chris everything, he was his rock when you’d left him so it only felt right to tell him about the new developments that had been happening right under his nose.
“Okay, okay. Just, start from the top. She’s here, you’ve secretly been seeing her and you kissed her. How did that happen?” Chris’s hands lean against the counter behind him, trying his hardest to focus on Steve’s words to determine how he can be there for his friend. If this mysterious girl had broken his heart all over again or finally attempted to fix it.
“Dan and Jay and I were at O’Malleys last night, and after a couple beers I realised I just needed to see her. So, I walked to her place and we were just talking, or maybe arguing about everything. Then she said something and, I don’t know. I can’t even remember how it happened but we kissed, it was incredible. I’ve thought about her everyday since she left, I can’t just leave it now.”
Chris’s expression softens slightly as he realises Steve’s not stressed out from anger or upset, but he’s stressed because he’s finally having all of his dreams coming true. “She kissed you back? That’s great, man.”
“Yeah, yeah she did. We didn’t – Nothing else happened, we just fell asleep. But it’s not just about the kiss.” Steve’s hands lift to his face before he pulls them down slowly, looking over at Chris as his hands drop to his hips, his posture straightening as he prepares himself for the bomb he’s about to drop on Chris.
“No?” Chris’ eyebrows furrow gently, his head tilting as he listens closely to Steve’s words, placing his empty beer bottle down on the counter behind him.
“It’s not just some random girl from Hawkins, it’s her.” Steve speaks your name softly, his eyes widening as he does so Chris knows exactly who he’s talking about. You, his girlfriend’s roommate, the sweet girl who he’s come to love like a sister is the heartless bitch who broke his best friend's heart all those years ago.
Chris repeats your name, once. Twice. Even three times, as if repeating your name like a chant will make it make any more sense in your head. “Seriously, wait. What?”
Steve lets out a loud groan, thumping his feet to the fridge to grab his own beer before cracking it open and taking a few loud gulps. “She was my neighbour, growing up. I’ve been in love with her since before I can even remember, don’t think I ever stopped. Before our graduation, her boyfriend cheated on her and she was pretty heartbroken over it. A few days later, she kissed me and I finally thought thank fucking God. But I woke up the next morning, drove into town to pick her up some flowers and when I went by her house her sister told me that she was at the airport. Staying with her brother in the city for a few weeks, apparently she needed some space.”
Steve tipped his head back, letting the liquid pour down his throat before continuing. “I didn’t call or anything, I wanted to leave her alone to figure her stuff out. Figured I’d see her in a few weeks when she got back. But she never came back. She went straight to college in September, and I didn’t see her until a year later. I was so angry, I told her I couldn’t bare to have her in my life and that was it. Didn’t see her again until.. Haley brought her to our show and I pretended like I had no idea who she was. I’ve been pretending, to all you guys, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t sit here and act like I’m not still completely in love with her when she’s five fucking minutes down the street.”
Chris stood there with his mouth agape, unable to believe the words that Steve just poured out to him. He made his own way to the fridge, grabbing another beer for himself despite the suitcase from Boston that sat a few meters away untouched. “Fucking hell, man. That’s heavy. So, what are you going to do? You gonna tell her how you feel?”
“I don’t know, I said I’d call her tonight. So, I guess I’ll start there.” Steve shrugged, pursing his lips as he looked down at his chilled bottle, before offering Chris another tight shrug.
Hours later, back at your own apartment, you’d been staring at your phone for so long the sun has set outside. You click it awake again, the soft glow lighting up your face in the dim of your room. The only other light comes from the small lamp on your bedside table, the warm light casting everything in a soft amber haze that makes the space feel smaller and quieter.
You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed with the duvet bunched beneath you, still slightly creased from this morning. One of the pillows is tucked against the headboard behind your back, another pulled into your lap, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the corner seam.
You changed hours ago into an oversized t-shirt that slips slightly off one shoulder if you’re not paying attention, a pair of worn-in shorts. Your hair is loose, a little messy, falling into your face every time you tilt your head down. Your glasses sit low on your nose, catching the light every time you move. You push them up then reach for your phone again, still nothing.
And just before you’re about to give up and possibly throw your phone out of the open window beside you, it buzzes. You jolt up, your whole body going still before you scramble to grab it, nearly knocking it off the bed in the process.
“Hi.” You speak too fast and too breathy. You clear your throat slightly, pushing your glasses up again as if that’ll somehow steady you.
There’s a faint rustle on the other end, like he’s shifting the phone between hands. “Hey.” His voice is softer than usual. It settles something in you immediately, even as your heart keeps racing.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers lingering there like you don’t know what else to do with them. “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna call.” You speak softly, and instantly regret how stupid that sounds.
He lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh, “I’m sorry, I got caught up at rehearsal this afternoon. But I was always gonna call you, Blue. I said I would. How was your day?”
You shift slightly, pulling your legs closer to your chest, your toes pressing into the mattress. You let out a small laugh, glancing down at your fingertips playing with the hem of your sock. “Really? That’s what we’re doing?”
“I’m working up to it,” He laughs, and the sound makes your heart flutter in your chest.. “Just give me a minute.”
“Okay,” You smile at his words, tilting your head into your shoulder as you speak, “My day was fine. Haley got back not long after you left, she went out for dinner with Chris so I made some pasta for dinner. I have work tomorrow, so I was just getting all my stuff ready.”
“Oh, of course, Haley’s trip.” He says, and you swear you can hear the soft smirk he’s undoubtedly wearing as he thinks back to your almost run-in this morning. “How was their trip?”
You glance toward your bedroom door, half-expecting her to appear even though it’s closed and she’s not even home. “It sounded amazing, I got a very detailed breakdown.” You went on a small tangent as you told him a brief story that she’d told you that afternoon about the train journey.
He barks a small laugh at the story, and if possible your smile somehow grows wider at the sound. “Sounds like Haley.”
“Yeah.” You huff out a small breath, leaning over to grab the pillow as your fingers start picking at the loose thread on the pillow again. “What about your day? What did you get up to?”
Steve paused for a moment, and you heard him take in a sharp breath. “Well, after I left yours I went to see Chris, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you not get your own rundown of the trip?” You grinned gently, continuing to toy with the fabric between your fingers just to give yourself something to do.
He paused again, leaving you to hear the faint sound of his breathing through the phone. “Not as much as you did, clearly. I actually, told him a couple things.”
You feel your chest tighten at his words, your elbow resting on your knee as your hand came up to rest against your forehead as you let out a shaky breath. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Blue. I realised on my way home that I should’ve waited to talk to you about it, to figure out when or what we were going to say to people but.. Chris is my best friend, I just couldn’t hold it in. I’m sorry.” His sincere words caused your chest to ache, and you softly shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.
“You don’t have to apologise, Steve. I’m not mad.” You let out a small laugh despite how shaky your hands are suddenly feeling. Now that Chris knows, it’s only a matter of time before Haley knows, and your heart breaks at the thought of the look on her face when she inevitably confronts you about it.
“You’re not?” His voice was a small whisper, almost sounding surprised. “I just figured he obviously knew about the girl from the bar, he just never knew that it was you. And now he knows. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you first, I thought you’d be upset.”
“I’m not upset or mad, Steve. To be honest, when Haley came home all I wanted to do was tell her but I just couldn’t. I don’t know why.” Your voice shook gently as your eyes pressed shut.
“Blue, whenever you end up telling her, Haley will understand. You and I both know that this whole situation hasn’t been easy, I’ll tell Chris not to say anything until you’re ready. She’ll be okay, I promise.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Your heart stutters at his words, bringing your palm to wipe underneath your eye at the few tears that slipped without you even realising.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day, you know.” He adds, his voice gentle as you hear him shifting around through the phone again. His words fluttered against your chest as you let out a soft sigh.
“Me too.” Your voice was a gentle whisper as your fingers lifted to push your hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling slightly shy despite being completely under his spell almost eighteen hours ago.
“I didn’t want to mess it up this morning,” He whispers softly, “I didn’t wanna rush you, or scare you off. I’d been thinking about last night for.. God, years.”
Your chest tightens at his words, only moments ago you were on the edge of tears and now you felt you were on the edge of glory. “You didn’t scare me off,” You say gently. “I’m glad you stayed.”
This time, the silence on his end is shorter, and you can hear the smile growing against his lips through the phone. “Oh yeah?”
You nod faintly, even though he’s not with you. “Yeah.” Your fingers tighten slightly around the pillow and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. You shift back against the headboard, your glasses slipping slightly again as you tilt your head.
“So, what happens now?” He asks gently, not wanting to press or push you any further.
You let out a soft breath, your gaze drifting to the window to the faint glow of the city outside. “I don’t know. Maybe, we just take it slow?”
“Okay.” He offers with no hesitation, and you echo his word with a soft smile playing against your lips.
The silence between you settles again, but it feels different now. “Hey,” He chirps after a moment. You offer a small hum for him to continue, and he does softly. “I don’t know if this sounds weird, but I’m really glad you wanted to tell her.”
You blink, slightly surprised. “You are?”
“Yeah, it means you’re not pretending it didn’t happen.” He says, causing another smile to break out against your lips that you’d be embarrassed about anyone seeing as you’re sure it’s maybe one of the brightest smiles you’ve worn in a while.
Your chest warms as your voice replies at a soft murmur, “Yeah, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”
He huffs out a small laugh, before taking in a deep breath as you hear him shifting around. “It’s late, Blue. I have an early rehearsal tomorrow and I don’t want you to fall asleep at your desk. I’ll let you go, okay?”
“Alright, Steve. I hope you have a good rehearsal, goodnight.” And as you go to pull the phone away from your ear, you hear your name being called through the small speaker on the phone, so you bring it back up to your ear. “Yeah?”
“Um, I was gonna ask. Can I see you tomorrow night? Or Tuesday? Wednesday? Whenever you want, I’ll make the time for you.” His words were tumbling out almost nervously, earning a soft laugh from you.
“Tomorrow works, do you wanna go for a drink or something?” You offered, fighting the small smirk that’s toying at the corner of your lips.
“Yeah, or something. I’ll figure something out and I’ll text you. Goodnight, Blue, sweet dreams.” He speaks softly. You return his goodnight and pull the phone down to your lap to hang up.
As the line clicks, you stare at the dark screen for a few moments before leaning back against your headboard and let out a long exhale you’d been holding in without realising. For the first time in years, you were finally going to bed after a phone call from Steve Harrington.
Chapter Nine - Kissing Clause
{best friends to lovers, fake dating over Christmas}
or: You forgot about the The Kissing Clause on Christmas Day...
5.3k words ✻ go to landing page
CW: just some tooth rotting fluff, kissing, Steve holds a baby for the first time...are you sitting down?
─── ✻ ───
If someone were to ask you what the best thing to wake up to is, you’d have a list for them.
A cup of coffee with cinnamon on top.
Sun streaming through the window at the Cottage.
The smell of Dad’s burnt bacon wafting up the stairs.
And a recent addition: Steve sleeping beside you, his brown hair mussed, snoring lightly on the pillow next to yours.
Nowhere on that list, however, is a flurry of red lipstick and blonde hair barreling into your room at the inn while you’re tangled up half naked with your boyfriend.
You jolt awake, gasping as light from the hallway pours in, spilling across the bed.
“What the—” you squint at the silhouette standing in the doorway, the familiar shape hovering like an assassin come to slit your throat on Christmas morning. “Mom?”
“Mornin’” Kristy says cheerily, then flips on the overhead light.
Steve lurches up in bed next to you, hair sticking up in every direction. His brown eyes flick between you, then Mom, then you again, before dropping to the blankets barely covering his lower half.
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie,” Mom says, sending him a wink over her shoulder as she stoops to pick up your clothes from the fucking floor. God, you could strangle this woman. “You got nothin’ I ain’t seen before. Now hurry and get dressed! We don’t have all day!”
Steve yanks up the blankets to cover his chest, squinting over at you.
The message is clear: do something. Well, he’ll find out soon enough it’s impossible to get rid of Kristy when she has her mind set on a plan.
You sigh, rubbing your bleary eyes. “What do you want, Mom?”
“Jenna had her baby last night. Everyone’s waiting, so, let’s go—”
“Wait, really?” you ask, surprised.
Guess those contractions she was having last night were real after all.
“I know! Can you believe it?” she squeals in girlish delight. “Best Christmas present ever!”
She then tries to jump up into a classic cheerleading pose, but stumbles, earning a chuckle from Steve that he smothers with the back of his hand.
You sigh heavily. “Mom, first of all, never do that again—”
“You like that?” she interrupts, “It’s from my cheer days.”
“Yeah, no. Secondly, what do you mean everyone is here?”
“Yeah, I thought there was a giant snowstorm last night,” Steve says, voice rough from sleep, and you have the wildest, most intense urge to kiss him stupid.
Mom rolls her eyes. “You think a little snow is going to keep us from meeting the newest member of this family? Cole has a snowplow, so we’re goin’ around collecting everybody, so, scoot your tushes—”
“Okay, we’ll get up, but you have to get out!” you say, tossing a pillow at her for good measure, which she dodges easily.
“Alright! Alright!” She backs toward the door, grinning. “I’ll be right outside.”
The door shuts, and you fall back onto the bed with a groan. You open your eyes to find Steve smiling down at you, his head haloed by the shine of the chandelier on the ceiling.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
You snort softly. “Hi.”
His fingers brush your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his chest through the blankets.
Then his eyes drop to your lips.
You reach up and thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to you. He leans in, chin tilting until his lips brush yours —
“Blow each other later!” Mom calls through the door.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” You shout, shoving yourself out from under your boyfriend with a miserable groan. You look back at Steve, lying there warm and completely indecent under soft linen sheets, wanting nothing more than to crawl back to him.
“Can we do presents in the car?” you ask.
“Sure, Ace.” His eyes drag over your rumpled sleep set like he’d rather be unwrapping you instead. “But I’m just saying, whatever you got me is gonna have a hard time beating this.”
You huff, amused. “This?”
“Waking up to you in my bed?” His eyes soften as you smile back at him. “Best Christmas morning I’ve ever had.”
─── ✻ ───
“Okay, now hold on—” Steve whines. He lifts a finger off the steering wheel and points it in your direction. “You are making this sound so much worse than it is.”
“Steve,” you gasp, still laughing. “How could you not realize—watch out!”
The caravan makes a sudden right turn, and Tiff’s tires kick up a blinding cloud of snow that nearly whites out your windshield in the chaotic rush toward the hospital. Uncle Cole’s snowplow leads the way, while several cars filled to the brim with your family drive behind yours.
Steve recovers the car quickly, then rakes a hand through his hair, white-knuckling the steering wheel with the other. “Just—hear me out, Ace.”
You sit up in your seat, mimicking his ramrod posture and pretending very hard to be serious while you hold up his Christmas present for you.
A little H dangles on a gold chain, catching the first rays of sun as it peeks over the horizon.
“The H doesn’t have to stand for that,” he argues. “It could be for…happiness! Right? Or, fuck, I don’t know. Hamburgers! You love those!”
A grin tugs at your mouth, and you shoot him a knowing look. “Steve, you picked this out for me long before we got together.”
He lifts his hands in surrender, and you actually have to lurch across his lap and physically grab the wheel before you go careening out of line and into a snow pile.
“Look,” he says, hands resuming their place at ten and two. “I just wanted you to have something that reminded you of me, okay? Y’know, since school is almost over.”
“Right. I mean, nothing says friendship like monogramming your best friend with your surname.”
“Listen! I swear, I'm not trying to..." He trails off as you reach over and run a hand through his messy chestnut hair. His eyes soften as he glances over at you, still laughing.
“I love it,” you say.
His shoulders slump in relief. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And don’t worry.” You smile, patting the cool metal H against your chest. “I’ll tell everyone you were only planning on proposing strictly as a friend.”
“Oh my God—”
─── ✻ ───
The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you step out into the snowy parking lot. You arrived at the hospital before Steve could open your gift.
But he’s soon distracted from his disappointment when an avalanche of your family members pours from their cars and welcome him back with a flurry of hugs, kisses, (Aunt Tiff goes for the lips, the bitch), slaps on the back, and a fuck ton of I-told-you-so’s.
But the person most excited to see Steve…is Sam.
“I knew you weren’t leaving forever!” your brother says, then fist-bumps him so hard Steve actually winces.
The hospital doors hiss open automatically, but your family acts like they couldn’t open fast enough. They burst into the lobby in a flurry of pink and blue balloons, loud Christmas greetings for strangers, and stacks of presents for the little one.
The security guard—a tall, well-built specimen of a man—catches Brielle’s bicep as she prances past, holding three bottles of wine.
“Can’t bring that in here, miss,” he says, voice gruff.
Brielle scoffs, jerking back when the guard tries to confiscate her alcohol. “Listen, my Aunt hasn’t had a drink in nine months!” Brielle argues, “It’s Christmas! The woman just gave birth for twelve hours, trust me—she’s going to need this.”
You share an amused look with Steve, and the conversation trails off in the distance as he gestures over to the elevator.
Somehow, in the buzz of excitement, the balloons have found their way into PawPaw Ben’s hands. He looks quite the picture, grumpy scowl twitching under his mustache, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive while holding a mountain of floating latex.
You approach him in a fit of giggles, which quickly earns you a gruff, ‘shut up’ from your grandpa, but his eyes sparkle with laughter.
The elevator ride up to the maternity ward is a sight to behold.
“This is definitely past the weight limit,” Steve mutters, smushed between a bouquet of roses and a stack of presents.
“Definitely,” you whisper back, sending him a small smile as everyone loudly places final bets about whether the baby is a boy or a girl.
The doors open with a chime. Only when your shoes squeak against the hospital floor, do you feel like you can breathe again.
Violet and Sam trip over each other in their race down the hall, slowing the stampede for all of three seconds before everyone barrels into room twenty-five. You sort of feel bad for any new mothers trying to catch a little shut-eye in this joint, thanks to the uproarious laughter and general chaos spilling from Jenna’s room.
You hang back, letting the horde go first. Steve stays beside you, warm and solid in that red sweater, a crooked smirk tugging at his mouth as he looks over at you.
“God, this coffee tastes like shit,” a familiar voice mutters behind you.
You turn to see Dallas and Banks striding towards you under the florescent lights, Dallas grimacing as he takes another sip from the styrofoam cup in his hand.
“You’re just saying that because you take your coffee with an inhumane amount of creamer,” Banks says, “Not exactly living up to the sterotype, there, cowboy.”
The two of them look downright miserable.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you up this early,” you tease.
Dallas shoots you a withering look. “As if I had a choice. Your mother practically ripped the sheets off me this morning.”
“Yeah, sorry, she does that.”
Banks looks smugly at Steve, then at you.
“Can’t say I’m surprised…” he whispers over your shoulder before he and Dallas disappear inside the room.
You roll your eyes and follow after him, threading your fingers through Steve’s. The second you step through the doorway, you catch sight of Jenna.
She’s sitting up in the hospital bed, looking tired but beautiful in the early morning light as she cradles a tiny pink bundle in her arms.
A baby girl.
You smile and pull your gaze up to meet hers, preparing to congratulate her, but her expression catches you off guard.
She looks downright evil, smirking over at you and Steve.
“Kissing Clause,” she says cheekily.
Sam’s head whips towards you. “Kissing Clause!” he shouts. Then he turns to Kristy. “Mom! Kissing Clause!”
Mom stops cooing at the baby and looks over her shoulder, blonde ponytail swaying. Silence falls throughout the room as all eyes turn toward you two.
And then, as if on cue, everyone bursts into laughter.
Oh no.
“Steve,” you say, nonchalantly.
He hums. “Ace?”
“Is there mistletoe above us?”
His head tips back in your peripheral vision, and he huffs. “Yep. And I’m guessing that’s…bad?”
You shoot Jenna an exasperated look. “You just had a child and you’re already hanging mistletoe over your door, trying to catch us?”
She shrugs, eyes sparkling. “Priorities.”
Cole whoops from the couch next to the window. “We got them, boys!“
“Oh—” You scoff ruefully, gesturing towards Rick and Sam. “Stop high-fiving!”
Steve’s hand leaves yours to caress the curve of your waist. “Alright, somebody better start explaining, because I’m about two seconds away from kissing her in front of all of you.”
“No!” everyone shouts at once.
Then, they all dissolve into laughing fits again.
You narrow your eyes at the lot of them.
Amy takes pity on your boyfriend. “On Christmas Day, if you get caught under the mistletoe without kissing, you’re forbidden to kiss your partner until the clock strikes twelve.”
Steve looks positively distraught. “You’re kidding, right? You’re saying I can’t kiss her for an entire day? Christmas Day?”
“It’s just until midnight!” Tiff says from the foot of Jenna’s bed.
“Oh, sure, Tiff, just until midnight.” Steve sasses. “What happens if I do it anyway?”
“Then we throw you both out into the snow!” Sam cheers.
That just throws the room into another rowdy betting pool, pertaining whether or not you’ll make it until midnight. Amid this outrage, you feel a tug on your sleeve.
“Sorry, got held up there for a second,” Brielle says, slipping past you and into the room, but not before you catch the mischief in her warm brown eyes.
You hum, unconvinced. “What, did the security guard have handcuffs or something?”
“No!” she says, then lowers her voice. “He took my booze! I’m pissed at him.”
“You got his number, right?”
“Of course I got his number, who do you think I am?”
You laugh, shoving her arm playfully, and she shoots you a wink before striding over and dropping a kiss on her aunt’s head.
“Steve?” Jenna says suddenly over the noise of the crowd, “Would you like to hold her?”
Steve’s head snaps towards her in surprise, and he hesitates, gaze dropping to the sleeping bundle in her arms once before shaking his head.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t—” he starts.
You can’t resist twisting a hand in his sweater, watching the way his jaw clenches under the harsh hospital lighting.
“Have you ever held a baby before?” you ask softly.
He swallows, eyes still on the blanket. “It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. It’s just…I mean, people usually hand babies to the girls, y’know?”
His eyes drop to yours as if looking for encouragement, or permission, and something in your heart twists.
The room shifts around you, the groups talking amongst themselves as you tug Steve forward by the sleeve.
“What if I drop her?” he whispers.
Brielle steps aside when you both reach the bed and smiles at him. “You won’t. ”
“Her name is Joy,” Jenna says, sitting up as best she can and holding the baby out for you to take. Her tiny weight settles in your hands, that distinct baby smell turning your insides all gooey.
“It’s perfect for her,” you whisper, taking in Joy’s soft, dark hair and sleepy eyes.
You turn to Steve, whose looking at you like you’re currently hanging the moon in the sky, and gesture for him to move closer.
He bends down uncertainly, arms outstretched, and the warm bundle shifts from your hands into his until she’s safely settled in the crook of his arm.
“Here, support her head,” you instruct. “Yeah, just like that. You got it!”
His eyes, which had been flicking between you and Jenna to make sure he was doing it right, are now glued to the baby in his arms like nothing could ever tear them away.
“So tiny,” he whispers, “Look at you…little nugget.”
Your thumb catches on the cool H against your chest as you watch him. Joy blinks up at him, eyes wide and unfocused, and her fingers wriggle in the air.
Steve grows more confident after a minute, and shifts her gently to free up one of his hands.
“Here. You wanna hold onto something?” he murmurs, raising his index finger over her face. Her tiny hand waves around, and when they make contact, her fingers wrap around his on instinct.
“You’re a natural!” Cole says, his eyes tired from being up all night with his wife, but so full of love and excitement.
You’re so enamored with your boyfriend holding a baby for the first time, you barely notice Uncle Rick stepping up beside you, a steaming yeti in his hand.
“Good Lord,” he chuckles. “We’re gonna have to mop you up from the floor.”
You roll your eyes and bump his arm with yours.
“Excited to have him next season. He’ll be good with the kids,” he says, gesturing with his coffee towards Steve.
You frown. “Wait, what?”
Rick shrugs casually, but then he catches the look on your face and instantly starts tugging on his flannel collar, lips twitching downward beneath his mustache that looks just like his dad’s.
“Rick?” You press.
He clears his throat and looks away. “Shit. Uh—”
“Tell me, Rick.”
“Well, you know we’ve been looking for a replacement baseball coach at the elementary school in town. It’s good timing for me, I’ve been there long enough, and the middle school has a position opening I’ve been thinking about.”
You stare at him, eyes wide. “You offered Steve a coaching job?”
“It’s only a starter position,” he says placatingly, “but if he does well, he could move on to the bigger schools in the area. He hasn’t officially accepted it or anything. Said he needed to talk to you first.”
You think back to Steve pitching to Sam. Was that just yesterday? It feels like an eternity ago. You’ve always planned on moving back here after college. And the thought of Steve living in your hometown with you sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
“You gotta admit,” Rick says, “'Coach Steve' has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
And you know what…
It really does.
─── ✻ ───
Steve has a stocking.
It’s red velvet with white trim, lined up with the rest above the fireplace in Pawpaw Ben and Nan’s living room, hanging right next to yours.
He sees it the second you enter the room with Banks, Sam, and Dallas all in tow, (They’d all insisted you needed constant supervision since the Kissing Clause.)
Steve’s eyes go wide, and while everyone sprints to bury their hands in their own stocking, he only hesitates for a second before joining in.
The house smells like every good holiday memory you’ve ever had. Pine, cedar, and cinnamon—Mom no doubt already in the kitchen baking her cinnamon rolls.
A new Christmas tree sits in the corner against the tall windows, glittering with lights and ornaments, and a pile of presents so big underneath you could probably get lost in it.
Watching Steve rummage through a stocking that belongs to him, alongside all your cousins, makes you so happy that the back of your nose starts to burn.
But the tears quickly dry when Steve withdraws his hand, holding...a book.
The cover boasts a crude depiction of a cowboy pinning a girl up against a stable wall, one tan hand clamped over both her wrists.
Steve holds it up to you, and it only takes you a second to read the title.
The One Rule Ranch.
“Uh, Kristy?” Steve calls.
There’s a bang from the kitchen, then Mom swings around the corner, wearing an apron covered in flour. She catches sight of the book in his hand and sends him a wicked wink.
“Merry Christmas!” she says, “There’s some great BDSM in that one. Might open your eyes to some things.”
Your jaw drops. “Mom!”
“What?” She turns to you and juts out her hip. “You’re the one who said he was vanilla.”
Steve’s head whips towards you. “You said that?”
“No, Steve, that was all her assumptions, I never—”
Steve’s not listening.
The glow of the fireplace frames his broad shoulders as he advances towards you. You take a step back and then another, until your head hits the wall behind you, and then he’s towering over you, eyes dark and heated.
“Don’t kiss her!” someone warns from behind him.
That lock of hair falls over his brow and his chest rises and falls against yours, warm even through his sweater.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Steve says, eyes locked on yours. “I won’t.”
Damn.
Your breath catches, eyes dropping to his lips. Maybe it’s worth getting tossed into a snow bank just to feel his mouth on yours.
Steve leans in, breath brushing your ear, and your heart slams against your ribs.
“You wanna get freaky, Ace?” he whispers, “All you have to do is ask.”
You roll your eyes, even as butterflies erupt in your stomach.
He takes a step back, letting you squirm out from under his arm.
“We’re gonna talk about this later,” he warns, and he spanks your ass with the book as you walk past.
Mom giggles as you and Steve pass her in the doorway, then reaches for the book. “I’m just kiddin’. I lost that one a long time ago, didn’t know where it went. Here, I’ll take it—”
Steve snatches it back incredulously. “Uh-uh. It was in my stocking. And how else am I going to find out what this one rule is on the ranch?”
God, you need a drink.
Suddenly, a cold glass presses into your sweater, and you look down to see a freshly shaken dirty martini sitting in Banks’ ringed hand.
"Extra dirty," he says.
“You actually have a superpower, you know that?” you mutter, taking the drink without looking at him.
“So I’ve been told,” Banks replies, before disappearing again, off to serve his role as alcohol fairy.
Sam runs up and catches Steve’s hand.
“Harry, come play!” he pleads, pulling him further into the kitchen. You steal a gingerbread cookie from the counter on the way, earning a playful slap on the wrist from Gran.
Christmas lights frame the window on the far side of the room, and the table is set with taper candles that cast a soft glow over Violet, Mason, and Jane as they sit in the chairs, cards in hand.
Steve looks over the table, hands on his hips. “Okay, what’re we playing here? Go fish? Uno?”
“Poker,” Jane says as if that’s the obvious answer.
Steve shakes his head. “Gambling already? Of course you are.”
“Just for M&M’s!” Sam insists.
“Oh, there’s candy involved?” Steve catches your hip and the wooden chair creaks as he pulls you down onto his lap. “Alright, deal me in.”
A few minutes later, half the chocolate candies on the table are gone, and Steve hasn’t had any. He tries to steal a bite of your cookie but you finish it off before he can, chuckling at his puppy dog eyes.
Loud laughter, clinking silverware, and the banging of pots and pans echo from the kitchen.The smell of roasted meat and gingerbread fill your nose, making your stomach rumble.
A few people have wandered in to escape the chaos and ended up staying to watch Steve lose to a group of kids. So many, in fact, you start to take pity on him.
“You know, if you—” you start, squinting down at his cards.
“I’m not taking advice from you, Ace,” Steve interrupts, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t corrupt me with your cheating ways. I’m going to win fair and square. How’s that sound, Sam?”
“Sounds fine, Harry,” Sam says with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “But good luck winning with your hand.”
A round of “oooh’s” go through the room.
Steve gasps, pressing his cards to his chest. “Okay, but I don’t need luck, because unlike you all…I have an Ace.”
The two of you exchange a soft, secret sort of smile.
“That reminds me,” you say casually, then reach down to fish a small box from your purse beside you. “Merry Christmas.”
You place Steve’s present in front of him on the table.
His eyes lock with yours for a weighted second before he snatches up the gift.
“Um—presents after dinner!” Jane reminds, but the table falls quiet anyway as Steve peels back the ribbon and pulls a single playing card out of the box.
An Ace of hearts.
The edges are a little worn, the red ink faded slightly, but he recognizes it instantly.
“I kept it that night,” you say. “After we met at that poker game at freshman orientation. I don’t know why, but I just…”
“Knew,” Steve finishes your sentence for you.
His hand finds your leg under the table, and you lean into his touch.
Suddenly, a sigh sounds from across the room. All eyes turn to find Dallas in the corner, sulking.
“If one more person says something as cheesy as that tonight, I’m catching the next bus back to Texas, I swear—”
His phone starts ringing, cutting him off. He frowns and fishes it out of his pocket, but when he reads the name on the screen, his eyes light up.
Your heart swells as he nearly throws himself out of the kitchen and out the front door to answer it.
“Anya, hi. Y-yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too. Yeah, I—”
The door slams shut behind him, his muffled voice swallowed by the crowd.
Steve looks back down at the card, then up at you.
“Hold on. You gave me all that crap about the necklace, but you were still gonna give me this? Even if we didn’t end up together?”
You shrug, a smile pulling at your lips. “You can never have enough Aces, can you?”
“You’re right," he says, "I’ll keep it in my wallet for dire times. Such as…now!”
He slams the card on the table, along with his whole hand, revealing a flush.
“That’s cheating!” Jane accuses, now on her feet.
Mason rolls his eyes. “Oh, C’mon, you’re not—he’s not playing that!”
“Why not? She does it all the time,” Steve says, motioning towards you and then leaning back in the chair with a charming grin. “Now, give me some of that candy.”
─── ✻ ───
If someone were to ask you what the best Christmas gift you’ve ever received is, you’d tell them it was this: watching Steve Harrington sit in your favorite room, smushed on the couch between your family members, with a pile of presents at his feet.
All of them with his name on them.
His cheeks are red from the wine, and the firelight, and from getting the attention and doting he’s always deserved but never had before.
“For you, honey,” Mom says, passing Dad a present from under the tree before looking at the crowd. “Did anyone get him what he really needs?”
“A haircut?” Gran pipes up from the corner.
Dad shoots her a withering look.
Mom laughs. “No, something to inspire his next bestseller.”
Dad shakes his head. “I already got that.”
“You did?”
His gaze swings to where you’re standing beside the windows, then he tips his chin toward Steve on the couch.
“You inspired me, kids,” he says.
A smile steals across your lips, and you hold your glass out to cheers him from afar.
Steve’s eyes narrow, darting between you and Ed. “Okay, but if you’re going to write me, I need to proofread this thing. I mean, what if you don’t describe my hair right?”
Laughter fills the room. It’s soft, and warm, and it feels like home.
Later, after the sun’s gone down, and the pile of wrapping paper is officially taller than the Christmas tree, Steve’s eyes catch yours from across the room. He approaches you by the windows, and when he notices your empty drink, his brows furrow.
“Here,” he says, reaching for your glass. “Let me get you another.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I can—” you start, but he’s not listening.
“Anybody else want anything?” he calls, already moving away from you.
A few people pipe up with their orders, and he nods, then disappears into the kitchen.
A few minutes go by with no sign of him, so you pad over to the kitchen to investigate. The sound of cold beers clinking against each other greets you first, then the slam of drawers. You turn the corner to see Steve rummaging around, searching the cabinets for something.
You lean your head against the doorframe. “C’mon, Steve. You held up at first base, or what?”
“I’m trying to find the bottle openers—” Steve freezes, then whips towards you. His lips part in amusement. “Was that baseball terminology?”
“Oh—sorry. Coach,” you amend, smirking. “Forgot that part.”
He leans back against the counter and faces you, but when you catch his eyes, they hold a seriousness you weren’t expecting.
“Listen, I was gonna talk to you about the job,” he says. “I just figured maybe you wanted a couple days before we started deciding things like that—”
“Take it.”
He swallows hard, looking at you intently. “Really?”
“Yes, Steve.” You step over to him, and his hands find your waist immediately. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Ace, and that’s why I don’t want you to feel…rushed? Fuck, I don’t know, we just—”
“I don’t feel rushed,” you insist, cutting him off. “I think it’s fantastic. I mean, if it’s what you want to do. You know, you don’t have to move here for me if you don’t want to.” You thread your fingers through his. “Whatever you want, we’ll make it work. Together.”
Gone is the tightness in your chest at those words. Thanks to everything you went through this Christmas, you really believe them now.
Steve smiles softly down at you.
“I think I’d like it. Coaching, I mean. I knew I wanted to do something with sports, and then teaching Sammy the other night…” He brings your hands up to his chest, his warm fingers closing over yours. “I don’t know. It felt right.”
You exhale, relieved. “I would love for you to be here. Fuck, Steve. I’d really, really love it.”
His eyes dart between yours, then drop to your lips.
“For real?” he breathes.
You smile. “For real.”
His shoulders drop with relief and happiness, and then, without hesitation, he dips his chin and his lips meet yours.
Your stomach flips and you kiss him back. Lovingly. Adoringly.
Distantly, you hear someone say, “Wait…is anyone else in the kitchen with them?”
But you’re not really listening, lost in Steve’s soft exhales, the gentle glide of his tongue, the way his hands grip your hips like you’re the only thing that matters in his world—
“Oh my God, they’re kissing!”
You and Steve spring apart in unison and whirl around.
A stunned Brielle stands in the doorway, dark curls lit with the kitchen light. Then, she grins devilishly.
“Guys! Get them!” she shouts.
Oh, shit.
“Run!” you say to Steve.
But neither of you even make it out of the kitchen before they’re on you.
“You know the rules!” Aunt Tiff shouts as you squeal, twisting away from the hands grabbing at your sweater.
“No!” Steve laughs as Dallas and Rick advance on him at once. He’s trapped in the corner of the kitchen, nowhere to run. “No! Listen—you know how long I waited for this girl? Just—wait a second, oh my God—”
Dallas and Rick each grab him under one arm, dragging him toward the door as he keeps trying to plead his case.
You’re laughing so hard you can’t catch your breath as the front door opens, spilling cold air into the entryway.
Ed swings around on your other side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and hauling you forward.
“Not you, too!” you gasp. “Seriously? Where’s your sense of romance, Dad? I—”
“Heave ho!” Gran calls from the doorway, as hands drag you down the steps.
Then, in unison, they release you.
Straight into a snow pile.
Steve catches you a second before you hit the snow, breaking your fall and rolling you underneath him. The cold snow soaks into your clothes, but Steve smiles down at you, hair framed by the porch light, eyes full of laughter and love, and God, it’s the single most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.
“C’mere, Harrington,” you whisper, curling your icy fingers into his sweater, and pulling his mouth to yours once more.
And as you kiss Steve in the snow, under the stars and the cheers of your family, a deep nostalgia settles in your heart.
Not for your past.
But for your future.
And it starts now.
─── ✻ ───
a/n: I can't believe we're here....the last chapter of The Real Deal. Thank you so much for everyone who has read, shared, and commented. Especially those who sent me such lovely words about how this story has touched them. It makes me so incredibly happy, you literally have no idea.
This story bloomed a lot from where it began, and I could go on about it forever, but Ace and Steve will continue to live in my heart for a lot of reasons.
Thank you a million times over, I love you all so much.
(By the way, there will also be an epilogue eventually hehe)
