bunny | heartache personified wrapped sloppily in red velvet, gauzy white and sticky sweet, sweat slicked with heavy lids, a soul aimlessly wandering in search for substance.
summary: draco finally makes his best friend his girlfriend and is taken aback by her very public declaration of the new relationship.
warnings: literally pure 'you need to go to the dentist' tooth-rotting level fluff, kissing.
word count: 0.8k
a/n: i have finally returned to tumblr and not to finish my love languages series (which i will i promise) but to give y'all this draco blurb, (i don't overly know what's going on either). i missed you, i luv you, enjoy my angels <3
masterlist
The entirety of Slytherin house knew that Draco Malfoy was in love with Y/N Y/L/N, best friends didn’t battle the constant urge to pull the other into their lap or place a gentle kiss on the crown of their head and they certainly didn’t give in to that urge daily. But what came as a shock to those that inhabited the icy collegiate dungeons was that Y/N was just as enamoured with Malfoy as he was with her. Which is why when Decembers frost had just began to kiss the grounds of Hogwarts and Y/N had strutted into the common room just to melt into Draco’s arms and plant a kiss that seemed a little too private to be had in public on Draco’s awaiting lips, the room fell silent. The silence was loud and evident and no one was quite sure if it was because what they had all predicted to happen was finally happening or if it was because Draco Malfoy had, up until this point, been a very private person when it came to the realm of relationships. He had dated in the past, his previous romantic endeavors had never seemed to hold longevity or all too much interest on his part, but it was completely uncharacteristic of Draco to kiss a girl in public. However, as the thought sat in one's head for a moment it made complete sense, he would throw away all previous guidelines in a relationship for Y/N.
Draco himself was just as taken aback by his girlfriends act but as the word girlfriend crossed his mind whilst looking at his best friend, her newfound need to show everyone that she was his was very welcomed and the silent prayer that she would continue to do so played on a reel in the back of his head like a movie theatre in a small town that screens the same film over and over again.
“Mornin’ Dray.” She mumbled into his chest after she selfishly pried herself away from his lips. But Draco was still too entranced by her to even speak, his gaze frantically scanning her as if he needed to memorize every detail of her right then in that very moment, his hands searching for something to hold on to so that he could ground himself and eventually falling on either side of her face, his breath trying to find its way back to his lungs but acting like his chest was a forgein place for it to visit. He wanted to say something, anything, a simple ‘Hi’ would suffice, but he had never felt so in love with her as he did right now and all he could command his body to do was kiss her again.
She giggled up at him, the little laughs fell from her mouth like bubbles, light and airy, infesting the entire room. Just when Draco was beginning to regain his bearings she grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards the Great Hall, her fingers delicately weaving themselves between his. He never knew cold hands clasped together could create such a blaze, but the flames were consuming his body, crawling up his frame to kiss his cheeks, a boisterous shade of rose tickling his face, his neck, his chest. When he finally lifted his eyes from the way her thumb was running over his knuckle, vision blurred by black nail polish and silver bands, he saw that everyone was staring at them. Some glaring at him with envy, others watching the way she leaned into him with longing eyes; the whispers that flooded the hall upon their arrival held mixed reviews, half of the student body thought it was about time they got together while the other half let their hatred for the relationship spill out like molten lava. Draco grinned, a full-blown, boyish, toothy grin, he ran his tongue across his teeth, relishing in the chaos he had created.
His confidence had finally decided to make its appearance, causing him to release the hand that she had been caressing to throw it around her shoulders. Pressing a hard kiss to the side of her head he felt one of her hands find its way back to his while the other lay gently on his back. Before his lips left her hair he made a point to stare at the crowd of onlookers in an attempt to make it known that he had done what seemed impossible to him and made the girl he had grown up loving, love him back, but before he could even process the thought she was pulling him down by his collar to reunite their lips, her fingers gripping his shirt like a vice, her vice, his vice. He knew she could feel the smirk that was devouring his face and he was certain that everyone could see it but all he was currently concerned with was how good it felt to be wanted, to be shown off, to be needed to this extent, well that and the fact that Y/N Y/L/N was going to be the death of him, a death he would welcome with open arms.
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
PART ONE [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.
Tell me that you're still mine
The drive was the same, if not quieter.
The roads hadn’t changed and maybe the trees were taller, the sun was still too bright, too warm, a little mocking considering your mood. Your car was still shit and it still protested when you took corners too quickly.
The sign welcoming you into the forest was the same, a little weather worn, familiar and like home. The car park was emptier than usual, but then again, you’d never arrived this early before. Robin was by a delivery truck, hat on backwards despite the way she squinted into the sun to see you roll to a stop.
She grinned, waving but you saw the confusion there and your stomach dropped and twisted, that same awful feeling that had sat in the pit of your stomach for the last month.
Camp Upside Down seemed far too quiet when you finally opened the car door and set a foot on the old pine needles. Like something was missing.
“Hey,” Robin rushed in with a hug, warm and sweet. “You’re here early.” She gave that same frown, lips set into a confused smile as she looked through your windscreen, at the empty passenger seat. “Where’s Steve?”
You swallowed, the pit in your stomach opening up into a yawning thing, a wide open canyon that swallowed everything nice. It rolled, a storm between two cliffs and it made your bones ache. Acid touched your tongue and it only burned more when you tried to push it back down.
“Uh,” your voice broke, just a little, enough for Robin's eyes to widen. “We broke up.”
——————
“What happened?”
Robin hadn’t wasted much time, closing your car door for you before taking you by the hand. Your bags were left in the trunk and neither of you looked at Hopper’s office cabin, eyes set ahead as you let the girl lead you through the trees.
The paths were the same, worn down and more dirt than gravel, and they twisted through the oak trees in a way you knew like the back of your hand. The lake was on your left, eerily still, the kayaks stacked to the side. Nausea rolled in your stomach like waves.
“I— we— fuck,” you were laughing, a wrecked, desperate sort of noise that didn’t match the way your eyes were watering and Robin looked back at you, more serious than you’d ever seen her.
“C’mon,” she murmured, squeezing your hand. She walked a little quicker, down the path and past a fallen log, through the empty cabins that would be bursting with kids and noise and laughter in two days. “Almost there.”
She already had keys to your cabin, the door opened to air it out, the familiar smell of pine hidden under the mustiness of the last year. There were faded outlines on the walls, marks from sticky tape that would never come off, a reminder of the photos and the postcards that lived there over summer.
You knew if you pulled out your bedside table, there would be etchings on the back of it, lines made from a penknife that wasn’t yours, a name next to your own, a heart drawn around the letters.
The cabin you’d spent five years in suddenly didn’t feel like yours anymore.
But then Robin had you by the shoulders and she looked so worried, brows drawn together and you wondered if you counted the freckles on her nose, that maybe you could stall the conversation that was about to happen. She drew a finger over your cheek instead, catching a tear you didn't know was there.
“Tell me everything.”
[AFTERGLOW BY TAYLOR SWIFT]
You’d know something was wrong when Steve had called you.
It had been late enough that when he asked you to come over, you’d frowned and made a joke about a booty call. But the boy hadn’t laughed and he didn’t answer when you asked what was going on.
So you made an excuse to your parents and said you wouldn’t be too late, slipping out the front door in your pyjama shorts and a camp sweatshirt that had Steve’s name stitched on the front. Your bare feet were stuffed in your sneakers, uncomfortable and too cold despite the way the weather in Hawkins was starting to warm up. Your car grumbled as you drove to Steve’s like it knew something, like it was warning you.
Steve met you in the driveway, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his hair messier than normal, like he’d been running his hands through it. When you killed the engine and smiled at him through the windscreen, he smiled back, but it wasn’t the same.
Something was wrong.
“Hey,” you’d greeted him warily, hands out to reach him, pushing on your toes to kiss his cheek.
He’d caught you off guard when he turned, your lips skimming over his skin until his mouth met yours with a neediness you hadn’t expected. His nose was a hard press to your cheek, his hand squeezing yours like he was scared you’d disappear, his breath mixing with your kiss in a huff that seemed full of an emotion you really couldn’t place.
“Steve?” You whispered when he eventually pulled back, gaze heavy and brows knitted together. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
He tugged gently on your hand then, taking a step back. “Let’s go sit out back, yeah?”
The lights that came through the Harrington’s kitchen windows let you know his parents were home, an abandoned dinner left on the dining table, half eaten but the wine glasses were empty. You let Steve lead you to the sunloungers, dusted off and taken out of the pool house for the start of summer, the newly cleaned pool pouring out heat and the smell of chlorine, steam swirling in the evening air.
The sky was lilac, a violet kind of twilight that made the first of the fireflies linger at the edge of Steve’s backyard fence, right by the treeline. The hum of the pool generator was the only sound and it set you on edge.
“Steve, what’s wrong?” Your voice came out a little weak, anxiousness creeping up your chest and neck in a dangerous heat, the kind that prickled your skin and made your throat feel too tight.
The boy was sitting across from you, your knees bumping his between the loungers, both of your hands clasped tightly together in your own laps. You wanted to reach out to him, but something told you that you couldn’t, not like you used to.
You’d only seen him last night. A kiss against the side of your car, his knuckles under your chin, sweeping your jaw as you both laughed into open mouths, whispering about how his parents were due back from the airport any minute, how’d they’d catch you both in their drive, lovesick and melted together.
What had happened?
You watched Steve blow out a breath, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pushed himself to speak. “Uh, my dad got me a scholarship.”
You blinked. “What?”
Steve cleared his throat, his voice rough, like he’d been yelling, like he’d been crying. He leaned back, hands pushed into fists on the seat cushions. “Yeah, my dad came back and told me he’d gotten me into a Finance course. Full ride.” Steve barked out a laugh, like he didn’t believe it.
“What?” You couldn’t help repeating yourself, brows stitched together in confusion. “Finance? That’s— that’s not what you wanted— wait, how?”
Steve made a face, nose wrinkled and he stared at the ground. He shrugged. “He had an old colleague that knew the Dean. He pulled some strings, I guess.”
Your stomach dropped and lurched. A sardonic laugh crept up your throat that you tried to tame, a choked splutter coming out instead. You shook your head. “You mean he flashed his wallet.”
Steve groaned, his hand running through his hair, making more of a mess of it. “Babe—”
“Are you doing it? Finance? Steve, that’s, that’s the last thing that interests you! Why are you even telling me this? You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious?”
Steve dropped his chin to his chest, eyes closing. He looked like he was in pain. “It’s in Arizona.”
You’d always heard the expression, of someone’s blood running cold. You’d thought it silly, a weird and twisted exaggeration. Up until now, anyway. Your body turned icy, a sharp chill that ran through you and it made your bones feel brittle, delicate enough to splinter. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.
“Arizona?” You mumbled it, a clumsy thing in your mouth that didn’t seem like a real word, too bulky to wrap your tongue around. “Steve—?”
“The scholarship is for Arizona State.”
The fireflies on the edge of the yard had gone and the purple skies were inkier, too big above you and despite the lack of clouds, you still couldn’t see any stars. Your throat was getting tighter.
“Arizona? Arizona. Steve, that’s, fuck, that’s the other side of the country. What? You’re not actually considering going, are you?”
“Princess,” he said it without his usual warmth, the affection still there but Steve sounded tired, drained. “It’s paid for. It’s all - shit - my dad’s organised all of it.”
You laughed then, an awful, bitter, nasty sounding thing but it was only to cover up the fact that you were ready to cry. Tears pricked hot in the corners of your eyes and your voice was sharp, biting. “So, what? Daddy’s decided then, yeah? That’s it?”
Steve flinched before straightening up, shoulders rolling as he prepared himself for the fight he knew was coming. You pretended not to see that his eyes were glassy too, matching yours.
“It’s a good opportunity, alright? I can—”
“Bullshit, Steve!” You snapped, rising to your feet because you couldn’t sit there and listen to what was about to leave your boyfriend's lips. “Don’t feed me the same lecture your dad drilled into you, okay? This can’t be what you want. No, I know this isn’t what you want!”
“What am I supposed to do, huh?” Steve’s voice got a little louder, taking over the hum of the pool, the insects that were buzzing from the bushes. “Turn it down? Spend the rest of my life in this shitty town, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing? Hoping that one day, maybe Keith will be kind enough to promote me to weekend supervisor?”
“I don’t know!” You were pacing, moving away from Steve to walk circles around the loungers, your gaze hardening when you saw his mother at a window, the curtains quickly drawn. “I don’t know, okay? But we were supposed to figure it out, we were supposed to do it together.”
You broke then, a hiccup breaking from your throat that turned into a sob that not even your palm could muffle. Your breath stuttered into your hand and the tears fell hot and fast, salt gathering between your fingers. Steve crumbled, shoulders dropping he was in front of you, hands reaching around your wrist to pull it away.
“Shit, princess, no, no, I know,” Steve blinked, water gathering at his lash line, turning you blurry, the pool a mosaic of blue and white. “C’mon, come here.”
He had you sitting again, nudging himself into the space between your legs, kneeling in front of the sunlounger. His thumbs were frantically trying to catch your tears, his hands cradling your face as he made soft noises, hushing you, soothing you.
“We still can, alright? Listen, baby, listen,” Steve seemed a little frantic now, wide eyed as he tried to calm you, hands cupping your jaw, thumbs stroking under your reddened eyes. “You can come too, we can work something out, we can get a place and—”
“What?” You squinted at the boy, confused. “Steve, I don’t want to move to Arizona. There’s nothing in Arizona! Not for me, not for us! My, my family is here, my job is here, fuck, we were saving up, we were gonna move and get our own place.” The tears were falling again, breath catching in your throat and panic clawed at you, vicious and unrelenting. “A place somewhere pretty, remember? Somewhere by a lake, with— with mountains and a huge garden—”
You broke off as Steve cursed, sniffing and only letting go of you to swipe at his own cheek, doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t crying too.
“You don’t have to go,” you let your forehead drop to his shoulder, face pressed to his chest where it smelled like his cologne, like mint and cedar and home. “You don’t have to leave.”
A splash hit your head, warm, another following when Steve let his face hide in your hair. Tears. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to go.” Steve sounded broken, breath ragged and voice cracking. You didn’t dare look up at him. Not yet. “My dad— my parents. They said if I’m not getting myself an education, then I gotta find myself a place to stay.”
You moved them, head ripping back so you could stare at the boy, anger crawling up your chest. It simmered, a burning heat that felt almost unrecognisable. “Then leave, fuck, Steve, babe— you don’t have to sit and be blackmailed into this!”
Steve swiped at his face, broken down and tired, the bags under his eyes becoming more obvious as the evening grew into night and the pool lights sharpened his features. “It doesn’t work like that. Where am I gonna go, huh? We haven’t saved nearly enough, not for a deposit on some shitty apartment, never mind anything else. It’s just— Arizona… it’s the only solution right now.”
You shook your head, face crumpling and you tried not to cry again, but it was no use. Your cheeks felt too hot, vision blurring as you watched Steve sit back onto the other lounger, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
“You can stay with me,” you sniffed, voice a thick thing, bubbling and sticky with sorrow. This wasn’t happening. This was a bad dream. That’s all. “You can move in with us, until we save. We’ll work something out.”
Steve let out a huff of laughter, sad and a little mean. It landed on the patio between you both and you watched him shake his head. “You know that’s not realistic,” he swore under his breath, lip trembling. “Baby, I want to make this work, I do, but your parents— and you have your aunt staying with you all, and it’s just… it’s not gonna work.”
It felt final, the way he said it.
You stood again, shooting to your feet as if suddenly the idea of sitting too close to the boy was causing you pain. Maybe it was.
“So that’s it?” You laughed through your tears, a sharp, pitched noise that didn’t sound like it was coming from you. You sounded mean, cruel. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop. “Daddy just writes a check and you jump? He has your future planned out for you and you just… go along with it?”
“That’s not—” Steve’s eyes flashed, dangerous. A warning you took no heed of.
“Yes it is, Steve! That’s exactly what’s happening! Fuck me, right? Fuck us?”
Steve reached for you, a hand trying to catch yours but you moved back, head shaking, eyes wide. “You don’t want to study Finance, you don’t want to move to Arizona. But you’re going to ‘cause your dad is a fucking bully and he’s somehow convinced you that you need a piece of paper and some letters by your name to make you a man.”
Steve grinned, a flash of his teeth more than a smile, and he stared right past you, jaw flexed. You hadn’t argued with the boy like this before. Biting remarks and cruel words sure, but not in such a serious way. Not about something that could end you both.
“You think you know?” Steve shot back, “you think you’ve got it all worked out? What am I supposed to do, huh? Yeah, he’s an asshole, but he’s still my dad, princess. He’s, fuck, he’s trying to help, okay? Am I just supposed to stay in this same town and save and save and save until maybe, just maybe! We hit forty and we can leave? Having a college degree will help me. It will. Finance, I don’t know—it’ll at least get me a good job.. One that’ll pay well.”
“That’s your dad talking,” you told him, voice impossibly sad. “None of that ever mattered to you.”
Steve didn’t listen. “This is what’s best, alright?”
“No, it’s not, Jesus, Steve, just listen to me!”
“If— if you don’t wanna move, we can do long distance. I’ll visit, you can come on holidays, we’ll make it work.” Steve sounded as panicked as you felt, talking too fast, like he could fix it if he just kept throwing out suggestions. “It’ll be okay.”
Another sob ripped from you as you spun away from him, head tipped to the sky as you tried your best not to yell. Frustration leaked through the cracks of your anger. “I’m not letting your dad dictate our future.”
Steve paused, breath caught in his throat. You heard him step closer before he stilled. “What?”
You closed your eyes as you spoke, like it would help. Maybe it would hurt less. “I’m not letting your dad decide our lives. Not mine, anyway.” You turned, watching Steve turn blurry from your tears. His cheeks were pink, eyes glassy, his bottom lip still trembling. “You want to be apart? For what, four years?” You hiccuped, sniffed. “Steve, please don’t go. Don’t go. Not for something you don’t want to do.”
The boy took your hand, clasping it tight as it hung from his in the space between you both. It felt huge, the distance, a wide open thing.
“Tell me you want to do this and I’ll support you, I swear,” you told him, choked up but determined. “Tell me you’ve always wanted to study Finance, tell me you’ve always wondered what it’d be like to live in Arizona and get a job at a desk where you punch numbers onto a screen. Tell me all that and I’ll support you the whole way. Tell me this is what you want, not what your dad wants.”
Steve was silent. His cheeks were damp. It was the seventh grade science fair all over again.
“When do you leave?” You whispered.
He let go of your hand.
“August.”
He watched you turn to your car, a five second delay as he realised you were walking away, away from him. Steve chased you across the drive as his parents watched from a crack in the living room curtain, shouting your name with a choked up voice, panic making his words crack and break.
He held you in the driveway, your arms wrapped around each other uncomfortably tight, an alarming fear in the air around you both. It felt awful, heavy, like the end of something that wasn’t yet finished. So you tried again, tears running down your cheeks, pouring openly as you begged, asking him to stay, to try with you, promising him it would all work out and this wasn’t the life that he wanted, you knew that, Steve knew that.
Didn’t he? Right? Right?
But the boy was shaking his head, swiping a hand meanly over his eyes as he brushed away his own tears, trying his best to get you to understand that he didn’t have a choice. He dropped his voice, an agitated whisper as he hissed about families and business, expectations and being written out of wills, written out of a family name, how money was supposed to equal happiness, and maybe his dad was right, maybe he needed to get a job that required a suit and tie, and maybe - just maybe - he could live a life like his parents. Money in the bank, a big house, a fat cheque every month.
That’s what being a Harrington was, right?
Right?
You sniffed, lip quivering, brows raised and your voice mean. “Yeah? Is that what you want, Steve?” You stepped back, a hand on your car door. “You want to be just like your dad? Get the briefcase and the business cards and fly out of town every week? Maybe you’ll pick up a trophy wife in Arizona, huh? Then find a girlfriend in another state and hope your kids don’t find out? Flash your wallet and make problems go away? Have a son and make him feel as shitty and empty as you do?”
Steve was silent. And then, an ugly smile, a smirk that was cold and a little dead. “Sure, princess, that’s exactly what I fucking want. And hey, fuck, maybe I don’t have a choice in this, but at least I’m getting out of this town. Can you say the same? Weren’t you supposed to be saving for college too, princess? What happened to that, huh? Reality is real ugly, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” you laughed, angry and sad and in no way amused. “We were supposed to get out together.”
“I told you to come with me!” Steve barked out, sharp, an almost yell. You tried not to flinch. “Fuck, god, you could come with me… we could do this together.”
“It’s not together! Jesus, Steve, can’t you see that?” You were beyond frustrated, hands balled into fists by your sides before they flew up to grab at your head. You were in disbelief. Was this happening? This was happening. “None of this is us! Not for us, not planned by us, not wanted by us! This is all planned by him!” Your hand shot out to the front door of the Harrington’s house, grand and regal and dark behind the window. “He’s dictating it all, throwing money and hoping it lands, just so he can say his son went to college!”
Steve was stone faced, eyes on the tarmac drive.
“I don’t care if you go to college,” you whispered, watery. “I just want you to be happy.”
‘I want you to stay with me.’ You didn’t say it.
Steve didn’t answer but you saw his shoulders shake, miniscule, and then the streetlight caught the tear rolling down his cheek, flashing. He didn’t stop you when you got into your car and drove away.
—————
Robin was wide eyed when you finished, kneeling on your unmade bed with you, the sheets folded and sitting at the foot of it. Her hand was still holding yours, fingers twisted together, her thumb running over your palm. She sucked in a breath.
“Shit.”
“Shit,” you agreed.
“So it’s over?” Robin asked, letting go of your hand when you flopped backwards, head hitting the pillow. Your own one was still in the backseat of your car, a brand new pillowcase on it ‘cause the old one somehow still smelled like Steve. “That’s it?”
You shrugged, staring at the ceiling until the beams of wood blurred together and you sniffed. “I guess, yeah.”
Robin nudged you, crawling up the mattress until you shifted, leaving enough space for her to lie next to you on the narrow bed. You were shoulder to shoulder, head sharing the same pillow and you could smell her sunscreen, the lemon and lavender perfume she always wore. You turned into her, nose pressed to her shoulder, revelling in the comfort it brought.
“When did this happen? How long has it been?”
“Three weeks,” you mumbled into her shirt, the corners of your eyes stinging again, tears making your throat thick. You were shocked you had more in you, all you had done since that night was cry. “Feels like it’s been a fucking year.”
“And you haven’t spoken since? Is he definitely going? Fuck, I can’t— Arizona?”
“Fucking Arizona,” you agreed, sighing. “I tried to call him the night after. His dad answered, said he was in the shower and he’d tell him I rang.” You sniffed again, pressing the heel of your palm to your sore eyes. “He never called me back.”
“Dude,” Robin sounded morose, your pain now her pain and she dropped her head on top of yours. A small comfort, considering.
“Dude,” you agreed. You sighed, world weary and already tired, despite only being awake for four hours. “Do you think I blew it out of proportion? Was I too harsh?”
Robin opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it again, thinking it over before she spoke. She smacked a kiss to your forehead before talking, her voice soft and more gentle than usual.
“I think you’re totally right. Steve doesn’t wanna study finance, or go to Arizona. Shit, he once thought Dustin’s pocket calculator was some kind of gaming console. But I know he struggles with his dad.” Robin sucked in a breath, wary. “And I know his dad is a certified asshole, but that little scrawny version of Steve at the science fair? He's still there, y’know? And he probably still wants to make his dad proud.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I know. I just don’t get why.”
Robin shrugged. “Me neither, but that’s on growing up with somewhat normal parents, I guess. I know he loves you though. A lot. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
You were openly crying now, tears soaking Robin’s shirt sleeve, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips were against your hair when she mumbled, “You don’t wanna go to Arizona with him?”
You sat up, chest heaving, hands swiping clumsily at your face to rid yourself of your damp cheeks, your swollen eyes. Your breath stuttered, a gasping, awful sound because it hurt being told that Steve loved you. It ached to be reminded. “No.” You were final about it, voice softening only when you continued. “Fuck, I thought I’d follow him anywhere you know? We were saving up, working stupid shifts and we had this stupid map and— and I would laugh at him ‘cause he’d circle these weird places no one had heard of, said we’d buy a house there and get a dog and… if I move to Arizona with him, we’re just starting a life that’s going to be dictated by his dad.”
Robin looked sad as she gazed at you, listening quietly, her feet resting against your knees as she curled up by the headboard. She nodded, knowing.
“Because Steve will graduate, right? And then his dad will be the one to set him up with interviews and jobs, and fuck, maybe this new Steve will even join the family business - which, by the way, I know he doesn’t wanna do.” You sucked in a breath, wide eyed at the possibility of this kind of future. “We won’t get a dog, ‘cause his mom says animals don’t belong in a house, and I’ll be left at home to press all his suits, with like, six kids that all look like the husband I don’t even get to see anymore, because he’ll be on business trips with his dad and dudes called Tony and Chase and he’ll meet a girl with a name like Britney, and you just know she was head cheerleader when she was in college and—”
You were cut off abruptly, Robin’s hands pressed to your cheeks, squishing them a little as she stared at you, concern in her eyes. “Babe. Breathe.”
You blew out a shaky breath and tried to smile, but it was watery and weak. “So what’s been happening with you?” You tried to joke.
—————
The rest of the staff arrived in drips, Eddie’s van parked dangerously close to Billy’s shiny Camaro, Eddie cackling and flipping the other boy off when he snarled obscenities about his paintwork. Nancy and Robin had picked up Chrissy on the way, Argyle following in a new VW bug, sunflower yellow with giant, green plants painted on the side that he told Murray, ‘s’just nature, my dude.’
There wasn’t any sign of a maroon BMW.
And then eleven o’clock came and everyone had to pile into Hopper’s cabin. The man was sitting behind his desk as usual, already looking tired as he watched you all trail in, taking up too much space. You’d managed to squeeze yourself on the old sofa between Robin and Nancy when the door opened at the last minute. Eddie trailed in with a guilty smile, another boy behind him.
Steve.
You felt Robin tense beside you, patting your knee when you slouched into the couch cushions a little further. The soft smile Eddie sent you as he passed told you that he knew everything too.
The two boys sat across the room, perching on the windowsill and Steve didn’t look at you. In fact, he didn’t look anywhere but the old carpet, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked as tired as you felt. His hair was a mess, like the wind had caught it, one curl sticking up from his forehead and you wanted to reach out and fix it for him, stand between his legs and let him touch you, let him give you a kiss as thanks.
Fuck.
Everyone shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Steve and back again, each staff member wondering why you weren’t sitting together like you normally would. Even Murray was frowning, holding an open bag of trail mix, peering at you over his glasses. You looked away.
“Okay, welcome back, glad to see some of you have managed to avoid jail time for another summer. Congrats!” Hopper stood with his clipboard, shooting a glance at Eddie, who grinned, smug. “You all know the drill by now, so let’s get into it. I’ve got a five ton delivery of Lucky Charms that nobody asked for to deal with.”
Murray took front and centre then, busying himself with paperwork and staff files. “Okay you bunch of delinquents, look alive, roll call!”
It went like it always did, Murray listing off familiar names, assigning them back to their usual stations, reminding them that they needed to hand in their up to date first aid certificates and that staff uniform was mandatory and not a matter of opinion.
Billy, lifeguard duties. Robin, kitchens with Bob. Jonathan, photography - and if he had time, could he help Hopper work on the website design for the new summer? Argyle, wood shop. Nancy, crafts and more time in the office with Joyce, so she can learn the ropes with admin stuff. Jason, lake games. Chrissy, gymnastics.
“Edward,” Murray announced, turning to hand the boy some sign up sheets. “Music. We’ve moved you to a bigger cabin for your lessons this year, we got way more sign ups than anticipated. Keep it up.” Murray clicked his finger and pointed at the boy, like he’d almost forgotten something. “Oh, and tell your girl we’re all proud of her. An architectural internship in Philadelphia is no small feat.”
Eddie grinned, chest puffed out, cheeks pink and looking full of pride. “Right?” He agreed. “She’s gonna be running her own firm in no time.”
“Harrington, Hawkins, you’re both on games—”
You couldn’t help it, it rose up like panic, acidic and bitter, bile in the back of your throat. “Can I be placed somewhere else?”
Everyone stared. Murray choked on a piece of trail mix, a too big pumpkin seed that hit the wall near Argyle.
Your eyes met Steve’s and you saw the flinch of hurt there before his brown eyes hardened and his jaw tensed. He stared hard at the floor, toeing at the carpet.
Murray looked confused, scanning the list of staff members to see if it were possible, but Hopper interrupted, frowning. He was gruff about it, gesturing to the schedules in the other man’s hands. “These have been written for weeks kid, we’re not fucking about ‘cause of a lovers tiff, we’re all adults here—”
“Actually,” Murray interrupted, gaze flicking from you to Steve and back again. He levelled you with a stare that looked like a challenge, a dare, a question. Like he was testing you. “We could do with someone else on the lake this year. More kids. You’ve been on life guarding duties before, right?”
Oh shit. You nodded.
Beside you, Robin exhaled, a curse under it as she pulled her cap down low, hiding under the brim of it. Across the room, Nancy stared at you, wide eyed. “What’re you doing?” She mouthed.
“Up to date on first aid? CPR?” Murray continued, ignoring the tension in the room.
You could hear a pin drop. “Yeah,” you muttered.
Eddie swore.
“Great!” Murray was too cheerful, whacking his pen off of the clipboard. “Congrats, Hargrove, you’ve got a buddy for the summer.”
It was awful, the way your stomach sank, the way Billy cackled, white teeth flashing as he made a show of looking you up and down. It was gut wrenching, the way Robin looked at you with sympathy, the way Steve was tugging a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at you.
Everyone filed out, back into the sun, collecting new staff shirts and sets of keys for the gym, the music room, storage cabins and equipment cages. Hopper held up a hand to stop you, gesturing to the couch. You sat back down, heart racing as he did the same to Steve, not speaking until the last person had left.
The jar was still on his desk, sticky label over sticky label, each one with a new name on it, everything from ‘kayak money’ to ‘therapy cash’ a scribbled out note from Eddie that said ‘lovebird fundz.’ Your stomach tumbled over, a sticky, hot nausea creeping over you when Steve sat down too, right up against the other side of the sofa.
Hopper leaned against his desk, already looking world weary. He sighed, running a finger and thumb over his moustache before pointing at the obvious space between you both. “Listen, I don’t make a habit of getting into my employees personal lives, and I don’t need to know what happened but—”
“I’d be interested in hearing, actually,” Murray interrupted.
Hopper ignored him. “All I wanna know is that you’ll be working together like professionals, when the situation calls for it, alright? No funny business. No arguing. No fighting. No breaking anymore of my goddamn kayaks.”
Steve was picking at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt and you were staring at your nail beds but when the man cleared his throat, sharp and jarring, you both nodded.
“Good.” Hopper nodded, “get going then, get settled and all that. I don’t wanna hear any trouble.” The man made a point of glancing at the empty jar on his desk, a fresh piece of tape on the front, yet to be labelled.
It took two seconds for Steve to round on you, your shoes barely hitting the grass outside, Eddie, Nancy and Robin bearing witness to the explosion. They stood off to the side, sat balancing on the porch railing of the medical cabin, pretending they couldn’t hear.
So Steve made sure his voice was loud enough to reach. “Really?” He all but yelled, “lake duties, huh? A summer with Billy fucking Hargrove? That’s what you’d rather deal with than me?”
You were quick to fire back, a familiar fuse lit inside of you as you snapped, eyes flashing as you went toe to toe with Steve. It made your heart hurt, knowing this argument was going to end without a kiss. “Oh, grow up, Steve! You really wanna spend all summer with me? Wanna hold hands and tell me all about Arizona? Show me your class schedule and talk about the weather there?”
The words were nasty tasting as they left your tongue, metallic and coated in invisible armour, meant to protect you more than hurt the boy. But it did the latter more than the first, Steve’s jaw clenching as he stared at you.
‘You didn’t call me back,’ you wanted to say. You wanted to yell it, sob it. ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’
“I’ve to grow up? That’s real cute, princess, you’re not even gonna try and be civil about this? Go back to being friends?”
You wanted to laugh at that, but the tightness in your chest might’ve been tears and you weren’t willing to let those out in front of Steve. You couldn’t stop. Poison dripping from your tongue, costing your teeth, sharp and barbed. You just kept talking. “Yeah, like we were friends before.”
Steve scoffed, nodding. “You’re right. We were never friends, were we?” He backed away, his eyes trailing over you like a reflex, like he couldn’t help it even now. “Have fun with Hargrove, princess, enjoy your summer.” He stalked off, sunlight hitting off his shoulders, making his hair turn auburn. Eddie jumped off the railing to trail after him, both boys heading towards the lake as Eddie sent you a regretful look over his shoulder.
Nancy and Robin approached as you did your best to even out your breaths, a pain catching between your ribs that felt all too familiar, an ache that had lived weeks for weeks now. It had wrapped around your heart like weeds, vines with thorns, squeezing at you until you wanted to cry. You sniffed, head ducked from your friends view.
Someone’s hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you looked up to see Nancy, a sad smile there. “I’m supposed to be working on the cabin groupings, but, uh,” she raised her brows at Robin, “I have a couple of bottles of wine hidden in Jonathan’s trunk. Why don’t we grab a few and pretend we’re not on the clock…”
You nodded, pretending there weren’t tears nipping at your eyes as you watched Steve’s retreating figure, the boy kicking angrily at a rock on the ground.
Tell me that we'll be just fine
You didn’t see Steve again before the kids arrived.
The two days before the official start of camp were spent hauling out the equipment, dusting off crash mats and kayaks, pumping up the sad, deflated balls and hoping to god the old dock would last another year. The June weather came with the usual force, blue skies, cloudless after sunrise, burning away with the morning haze until all that was left was an endless heat that lingered into the night.
Camp Upside Down without the kids was fireflies by the shoreline, feet in the lake after lunch, breakfasts in your cabin, stolen banana muffins and fresh peaches, music that toed the line of too loud before bed.
It still felt like home. But it was a house with a room missing. Steve’s lack of presence hurting like an open wound. You caught glimpses of him here and there, between the trees, on the edge of the lake, helping Eddie lug amps and drum kits from one cabin to another.
Jealousy flared when you saw him talking to Chrissy outside the gym, a friendly distance between them both but it twisted in your stomach like a knot, sickly and unwelcome. Robin had dragged you away by your elbow, telling you that you were being stupid and, shouldn’t you go talk to him?
“If he wanted to talk, he would’ve called me back, remember?” You reminded her sullenly, walking towards the middle of camp together to prepare for the hoards of buses and cars that were soon to flood in.
You stopped talking as you joined the cluster of staff members at the unlit fire, the unofficial heart of the camp. The logs were already arranged around the pit, ready for s’mores and stories. Steve was standing between Eddie and Jonathan, staff shirt sunbleached and loose around his frame, his jeans cuffed at the ankles to get some relief from the morning warmth that would only climb higher.
Chrissy was with them, ponytail bobbing animatedly, smiling too pretty. You’d never had a problem with the girl before, in fact, you’d even call her a friend. But she reached out and slapped playfully at Steve’s arm when she laughed at something he said, and suddenly you were wondering how deep the lake was.
Maybe Steve would sense that you were staring, maybe he still knew when you were near, ‘cause his head shot up and his gaze found yours immediately. He didn’t look away and neither did you, but he frowned when you lifted your chin, defiant.
“Hey, uh,” Nancy appeared by your side, looking uncomfortable as she said, “you know you’re wearing his sweater, right?”
“What?” You looked down, the forest green sweater suddenly swamping you as you realised it definitely wasn’t your own. Steve’s name was stitched on the front, small and neat across your heart. You felt your cheeks burn. “Oh, for fuck sake.”
That’s how you ended up arguing via the kids, the campers arriving in a flurry of colour and noise, yelling about lost rucksacks and the youngest crying as their parents drove away, consoled by Joyce and some animal crackers.
Max Mayfield found you in the midst of the chaos, tapping your shoulder as you turned around with your clipboard, interrupted from taking note of Will Byers new allergy medication.
She was holding Steve’s sweater, looking at you unimpressed. “He said he doesn’t want it,” she sighed, already bored of the back and forth.
“What?” You squinted at her, disgruntled and confused as to how Steve could reject his own sweater. “Why?”
The redhead rolled her eyes, shrugging. “I don’t know! He said that you should keep it.”
Panicked, you shook your head, coaxing the girl back into the crowd. “No, nuhuh, tell him I don’t want it. Lucas, hey, Sinclair!” You waved down the boy, confiscating the slingshot that was sticking out of his pocket as you did. “Go with Max, it’s important.”
And while you got rid of two kids, another came barrelling from out of nowhere, arms wrapped around your waist. You caught the attacker with an ‘oomph,’ your hand on the back of a familiar head of curly hair. Dustin Henderson stared up at you, a little taller than last year, but eyes just as innocent and earnest.
“Is it true?” He whispered, shell shocked. “Steve said—”
You groaned quietly, eyes closing briefly because this was exactly what you didn’t want. You nodded, smiled tight and tried to look sympathetic, patting at his head. “Yeah, listen, it’s just—”
“I’m a child of divorce!” He wailed, interrupting whatever explanation you were about to give him and garnering far too much attention from bystanders.
Before you could peel Dustin off of you, Max and Lucas reappeared once more, Steve’s sweater still with them. You sighed, wondering if this was how the entire summer was going to feel.
“Yeah, he won’t take it,” Lucas explained and you groaned when Max tossed it over your shoulder. You hadn’t worn it since the night you’d walked away from him, throwing it in your case instead of yours, an accidental nightmare. It still smelled like Steve, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed before. “Steve says he doesn’t want it.”
Over the heads of the kids, you found Steve, uncharacteristically stone faced as he listened to something Joyce was saying. He was nodding, not really listening, ‘cause his eyes were on you and he watched you take the sweater off your shoulder. You couldn’t bring yourself to let it drop to the forest floor, you just couldn’t. So you tied it around your waist and tried to pretend it wasn’t there.
—————
[WORK SONG BY HOZIER]
Eddie found you bright and early on the dock the next morning, a carton of orange juice offered.
You smiled and said your thanks, knocking shoulders with him as he stood next to you, the water lapping at the old planks, the sun making the sky tangerine. “Her majesty has risen early,” he quipped, not looking at you as you both pierced your straws through the little carton. “Can’t sleep?”
You shrugged, staring out at the lake, hoping the day would be quick so you could fall back into bed. You craved sleep, longed for your head to hit your pillow each night in the hopes that you wouldn’t dream about a summer before where you could spend it with Steve. It hurt more waking up in a place so familiar, so important to what you once had with the boy.
“You could say that.” You smiled, but there wasn’t any humour behind it. You could feel Eddie watching you from behind his curls, big brown eyes earnest, worry rolling off of him in waves. “How’re you, Eddie? How’s your girlfriend? Missin’ her yet?”
Distract distract distract.
The boy nodded, sucking noisily from his juice box, citrus in the air. “I’m good, yeah - we’re good,” he added. “Got an apartment downtown together, we’re getting by. Hop let me use the phone yesterday, let her know if arrived, y’know? She’s doing good…”
Eddie nudged you again, an affectionate touch. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, your throat too tight. So you bit down on your straw and waited until the carton was empty, orange juice tasting too bitter against the toothpaste still on your tongue. “Yeah,” you sounded tired. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart,” Eddie said kindly, his voice still quiet, matching the morning. “You volunteered to spend the summer side by side with Hargrove, I don’t think you gotta lie to anyone.”
You blinked, not surprised when tears blurred your vision. The sky melted into the lake, white-blue into peach, pink clouds nothing more than cotton candy, the lake reflecting it all back. “It would just suck, you know?” You explained, whispering. “To be with him all day and not—”
Touch him, kiss him, hold him.
You swallowed, the motion a struggle. “—it just, it would hurt. And I don’t want it to hurt any more than it already does, so…”
Eddie didn’t say anything, not right away. But he let his free hand drop between you both, covering your own. His fingers didn’t twist between yours the way Steve’s did and his rings were cold against your skin. It didn’t make your stomach summersault and there wasn’t a scar on the back of his hand when your thumb touched it, but it was nice all the same.
Kind, caring. Worried.
“He’s hurting too, you know,” Eddie murmured, fingers squeezing gently around yours. “I know you’re mad at him, that you hate he’s leaving—”
You bit down on your lip at that, hard enough to taste metal, glassy eyed and turning to Eddie. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little manic. “No, no, fuck,” you sucked in a breath, trying not to cry. “Well, yeah, I hate that he’s leaving but— Eddie, shit, it’s his dad. He’s letting his dad decide his future and he’s doing everything he used to say he hated and- and I don’t know why.”
Eddie’s brows knitted together as he watched your lip tremble and he nodded, scrubbing the hand that held his squished juice box over his face. “I know,” he admitted, “I know. I asked him, but he’s just talkin’ bullshit. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Says it’s best for him, or some shit, keeps talkin’ ‘bout six figure salaries and, well, fuck if I know.”
“S’like he’s been brainwashed,” you mumbled, feeling very much like one of the younger campers as you said it, juicebox in hand. You wanted to stomp your feet and cry, you wanted to yell at Steve until he snapped out of it. “Like his parents came home and suddenly managed to convince him that he needed to do everything he hated.”
Eddie’s lips twisted, downturned and sad. “He said he’d get thrown out the house. Cut off. Sounds like emotional blackmail more than brainwashing, sweetheart.”
You sniffed, turning back to the lake so you could swipe at your eyes. “Yeah,” you croaked. “It does.”
You stayed with the boy until the sky turned blue and the clouds rolled away, the tannoy signalling it was time for breakfast. The camp came alive minutes later, kids clambering out of cabins, half dressed and with one shoe on, racing for a seat with their friends, hoping they’d be lucky enough to get some pancakes before Bob ran out.
Then Billy was sauntering towards the lake, already shirtless, red shorts and a whistle around his neck. He grinned as he approached, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, biting noisily into an apple.
“Been waiting long for me, darlin’?” His voice was a drawl, raspy from the morning, from the cigarette he probably hung out his cabin window to smoke before his shift.
You rolled your eyes and didn’t gift him with a response, silently thanking Eddie with a bump of your hip to his. Eddie seemed to puff out his chest a little as he passed the other boy, his smile anything but friendly as he narrowed his eyes at him.
“Piss her off, and we’ll have a problem, Hargrove,” Eddie’s voice was soft and lilting, an almost sing-song, but the warning was clear.
Billy merely grinned wider though, sharklike as he brought his hand to his chest, feigning innocence with a gasp. “Who, me?” He tsked, frowning at Eddie. “Don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, Teddy bear. And besides, she’s not your girl.” Billy turned to you and smirked. “In fact, last I heard, she’s not anyone’s girl, seems like fair game to me.”
You shook your head at Eddie who’d taken a step back towards Billy in response. ‘Not worth it,’ you mouthed.
So Eddie glared instead, his gaze only softening when he turned back to you one final time. “I’m in the music cabin all day, if you need me,” he said, “and Steve’s gonna be by the pit.”
The rest was unsaid, but understood. Loud and clear. ‘If you need him.’
You didn’t argue, you just nodded.
Billy didn’t speak again until Eddie was out of sight, a few kids racing towards the dock for their swim lessons, for their turn being taught how to control a kayak. He grinned at you as the small stampede started clamouring around him for life jackets.
“We’re gonna have fun together, princess, I can already tell.”
—————
You and Billy, in fact, did not have fun together.
The boy was boorish and mean to the kids, lazy when it came to actually working and he constantly made jokes about letting the campers drown. He spent much of the morning and afternoon on a deck chair, legs spread wide and his eyes closed behind his glasses, his skin growing more tan by the hour.
“Why do you even work here?” You’d eventually snapped at him, exasperated and breaking your vow of silence.
“Money ain’t bad, free food and well, I get to spend my time with you, babe.” He’d winked at you, sliding his glasses down his nose before pushing them back up again.
You somehow managed to stop yourself from kicking his chair into the lake.
The rest of the day went like that, ignoring Billy and the murderous thoughts he invoked, all while attending to the kids and making sure they didn’t swallow too much lake water. And when the session was coming to an end, Lucas had convinced you to jump in too, the water warmed only slightly by the sun, the skies above it turning back to tangerine as evening set in. So you jumped off the end of the dock, sandwiched between kids, El’s hand in your right, Suzie’s in your left.
And when you let the water roll over your head, feet barely touching the bottom, you wondered if you’d be okay soon, if by some miracle, you’d wake up tomorrow and the ache in your chest would have stopped. And if it hadn’t, you wished someone would tell you when. And maybe that same person could tell you what you were gonna do with your life too.
Your hair was still damp when you walked into the mess hall for dinner. Most of the kids were finished, running past you with yelled ‘hello’s’ as they made their way back to their cabins, pockets stuffed with treats they’d no doubt hide for midnight snacking.
One table was still occupied, most of the staff tired and lashing across the benches, just starting their dinner. Steve was between Robin and Eddie, a few slices of pizza on his tray that he didn’t seem interested in. You thought about turning around, going to bed hungry. You thought about being entirely pathetic and sitting at a table all on your own, preferably on the other side of the hall. But Nancy caught your eye and waved you over as Bob handed you your plate with a smile.
It was awful, the way the conversation trailed off as you approached, eyes flicking between you and Steve and back again. But the boy kept his head down, nodding at something Eddie was saying, and Jonathan slid closer to Nancy for you, letting you sit next to him.
“Did we mean to go for a swim or was the idea of a watery demise better than working with Hargrove?” Jonathan joked, his eyes kind as he smiled at you.
You snorted, picking off the greasy pepperoni that dotted your pizza slices, grimacing when Eddie held out his own plate for them. “The kids wanted me to join them,” you explained, “but now that you mention it, lake sludge and the possibility of a leech or two seems better than another day with Billy.”
Robin frowned, concern knitting across her features. Her nose was already a little burnt, her afternoon off spent napping under an old oak tree behind the gym. “He wasn’t too creepy, was he?”
Your eyes met Eddie’s over the table and you shared a look. He shrugged, letting you know he wasn’t going to say anything. Not that it would have mattered, you decided, Steve hadn’t looked up since you sat down, his fingers busy making knots out of a paper straw wrapped.
“Nah, no more than usual,” you assured her.
You took a bite of your pizza, if only for something to do, the awkward quietness making your anxiety gnaw at your chest and your bubbling stomach made you wrinkle your nose at the pools of grease the pepperoni left behind. It seemed more unappealing than usual.
Jonathan noticed. “Oh, here,” he pushed his own tray towards you. “I have Hawaiian leftover if you wanna—”
“She’s allergic to pineapple.”
The voice came before you could speak, ready to explain the same thing. Everyone turned, looking at Steve as he looked at you, a small frown on his face, as if he was annoyed that no one else seemed to know that.
“Oh,” Jonathan looked horrified, quickly pulling the slice away from you. “Shit, m’sorry, I didn’t kn—” he was talking to Steve more than you, because you still hadn’t said anything, too busy looking at Steve with your mouth agape.
But it didn’t seem to matter, ‘cause the boy stood up suddenly, eyes just barely finding yours before he tossed his own tray on top of the trash cans and headed outside. The huge doors slammed shut, echoing in the silence.
No one spoke, glancing between each other and the tabletop as you groaned, your hands covering your face. You weren’t going to cry. You weren’t.
And then, breaking the silence, Robin: “So, we’ll plan a meal schedule then, yeah?”
—————
The first week of camp quickly bled into the second, the days going by slow and lazy by the lake, the older kids happy to be watched diligently as they paddled around on the kayaks. Each boat had been checked over for any cracks and splinters that might’ve occurred the year before. You held a sandcastle competition with the younger group on a hot morning, lakeside in the grainy sand that was more in-depth than you imagined it would’ve been.
You ignored Billy throughout, leaving him on his deck chair with his sunglasses and whistle, pretending you didn’t hear him scoff when Steve walked by, your eyes tracking him with his own group until he disappeared behind some trees or another cabin.
The summer got hotter and you felt lonelier, longing for the familiarity you felt when Steve was nearby. You missed his touch on your back, a hand there when the kids were around, chaste enough that no one squealed and yelled about cooties.
You missed spending nights in his too small bunk, music playing low, feet touching under the sheets.
You missed seeing him across the camp, surrounded by kids who loved him, waiting for him to lift his gaze to yours, ‘cause no matter what, he always seemed to know when you were close. You missed the way that even after two years together, your stomach would dip and swirl when he inevitably winked at you, boyish and charming, a promise of a kiss later when he could get his hands on you.
Now, you either ignored each other or argued with each other, egos in the way, stubbornness winning over silence when you both fell too easily into your old ways. You both found that winning a fight against each other was much harder to do when you couldn’t make the other person concede with a kiss.
But at the end of the second week, a whole new kind of emotion took over when you saw Steve and his group come back from a hike, a smile on his face as he chatted to the camp counsellor next to him.
Strawberry blonde hair, tied up in a bow, pink this time.
Chrissy.
It was awful, watching them together, hands swinging side by side, not touching in the slightest, but far too close to it for your liking. You watched Steve say something, making Chrissy laugh, a musical giggle that had your teeth set on edge. You forgot what you were supposed to be doing, new logs for the fire pit frozen in your stagnant arms. Nancy must’ve noticed, ‘cause she looked up from the pit at you, face screwed up in confusion.
“What’re you doing—? Oh.” She watched your face fall, eyes studying every move as the two led their kids back into camp. “You know it’s not like that, right? Steve and Chrissy… it’s not— it’s nothing.”
You heard none of it, logs clattering to the forest floor, a mumbled excuse to Nancy about how you’d be right back and then you were taking off across the pathways, heading for a cabin that you hoped would be empty. The crafts room luckily was, the door shutting behind you, the tables clean and void of glitter, for once.
[DON’T LEAVE BY FAITHLESS]
You perched there, collecting yourself, wondering once again when it was going to stop fucking hurting so much. But your thoughts weren’t yours for very long, interrupted by the door opening again. You were ready to tell Nancy you were fine, that it was just a headache, a bee sting, anything. But Steve walked in instead, wary as he looked at you.
No one spoke, the silence deafening and the closer Steve moved, the more you could smell his aftershave, the same one still lingering on the sweater he refused to take back. He was more tanned already, cheeks freckled from the sun, flushed from his hike. He was staring at you like a wild animal, scared to get too close.
So he stopped a few feet before you, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, the cuffs of them a little dust covered from his hike. He looked good, awfully so, as pretty as the night you left him in his driveway and it fucking ached to look at him.
You wouldn’t cry.
“Uh, Nancy said you were upset.”
You blinked, his voice reverberating through you like a fifty watt amp. You buzzed with it, forgetting what his voice sounded like when he wasn’t yelling, arguing, when he was talking only to you.
You sniffed and lied. “I’m fine.”
Steve knew better than that. He looked like he wanted to come closer, one heel digging into the old carpet, debating on stepping forward. He didn’t. “Look, Chrissy and I—”
“I thought you were supposed to be hiking with Argyle?” You interrupted, unapologetic. You sucked in a breath, heart on your sleeve, openly vulnerable and waiting to be hurt. “The rota said Argyle.”
Steve shrugged, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah, I was.” He looked at you, eyes nervous. “But Chrissy showed up at the safety meet, said she’d swapped ‘cause she wanted to plan something for a gymnastics competition the day she was scheduled.”
You just stared at the floor.
Steve whispered your name, a crack in the middle of it, his voice awfully familiar. He sounded so much prettier when he wasn’t trying to hurt you. “It’s not like that. It’s not.”
You shrugged, staring at a piece of broken off crayon that had been squished into the floor forever ago, a sickly green that wouldn’t come out. You stared at it until it blurred. “It’s not any of my business, Steve, it’s fine.”
You practically heard the boy frown. “What do you mean it’s not your business, prin— I’m not interested in Chrissy. You’re— we only broke up a couple of weeks ago, I’m not exactly looking for something new.”
It hurt to hear him say it, even though you knew it already. But something about Steve’s words made it seem more real, more final. So you tried to keep your expression neutral as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his.
His jaw was set tight, brows ticking up to meet in the middle, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Are you still going?” You asked, and god, you sounded small, scared. You hated it. “To Arizona. Are you still going?”
Steve nodded, jaw tensing.
Something inside of you shattered all over again. You blew out the breath you’d been holding, smiling tightly, like it hurt to look happy. “Well, don’t let me stop you from another summer fling, like I said, it’s nothing to do with me—”
“Another?” Steve's voice hitched up, confusion and anger leaking in. “What do you mean another? Is that all we were, is that what you think? A two year summer fling? That’s real cute, princess.”
He said the pet name the way he used to, sarcasm mixing with malice, no affection behind it and it made you square your shoulders. It was like a battle call and you were ready for action.
It hurt less to fight.
“I didn’t say that,” you bit back, “don’t twist my words, Harrington.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you wanted to work with Billy, huh?”
“Oh my god, get real,” you laughed, sliding off of the table so you could shove past the boy. “You really think that little of me?”
Steve’s hand caught your elbow as you tried to head for the door, a touch you knew well. He wasn’t rough about it, but he pulled you back with ease, your body against his as he set you with a look. You knew he was mad, you’d pushed too many buttons and this time, you couldn’t kiss his anger away, you couldn’t push yourself up against him and whisper pretty apologies as you loved on him.
Fuck.
“You started this,” he reminded you, “clearly you think I’m ready to forget all about you and jump into Chrissy’s bunk so don’t—”
You slipped up then, unable to help it, ‘cause Steve was staring at you with hard eyes and all of a sudden you couldn’t help but imagine him with Chrissy in her cabin, the lights off as he pushed her against her desk, moaning when she wrapped her thighs around his hips and gasped out his name…
“Please don’t.” It ripped out of you in a sob, tiny and cracking. You pressed your lips together so no more noises would come out, eyes turning glassy even though you tried to stave off the tears. “Please don’t do that. Don’t jump into someone else’s bunk.”
‘Please don’t forget me,’ is what you really wanted to say. ‘Please don’t forget about us when you leave.’
You felt too warm, exposed, blinking back tears and trying not to show the hurt but it was too late. Steve knew what you meant, read between the lines and watched tears gather at your lash line. You were too stubborn to let them fall but he softened, the anger leaving him in a rush of adrenaline until he felt tired, sore with it.
Steve let your arm go, hand trailing down until fingers brushed your wrist. He stepped back, eyes on the wall behind you, blinking until his own eyes stopped watering.
“I won’t,” he promised, words coming into a soft gasp, like he was shocked that you think he could’ve.
Words unsaid hung in the air, glittering with the dust motes in the sun, slipping between the shadows from the trees across the walls.
I miss you, I’m sorry, don’t leave me, I love you.
You sniffed again, eyes on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the boy and not wanting to move away. “I have your sweater,” you whispered.
Steve shrugged, wondering if you could hear his pulse, how it seemed to thump in his neck, his chest. It was an awful thing, heartbreak. No one told him it would ache this much to see you, to be so close and not hold you.
The boy’s gaze dropped to your lips, saw the shine there and wondered if you’d still taste like cherries, or if even after so little time, that had changed too.
“S’alright,” he mumbled. “I have an extra one.”
“It’s yours,” you replied, your bottom lip wobbling again. Steve didn’t know how to stop it. He looked away. “I shouldn’t have your stuff anymore.”
He frowned, knowing you were right, hurting all the same. “Did you bring yours?” He knew the answer, knew how you could get disorganised when you packed, bleary eyed in the early morning hour before camp. You shook your head. “Keep it. In case you get cold.”
And then he left.
The second week went by the same, melting into the third with climbing temperatures and the threat of rain that never actually fell. You stayed away from Steve, tried to smile civilly when you did get too close, bumping into each other at mealtimes, on walks with the kids as you passed each other on the trails.
Will Byers was a little taller than last summer, but he still took your hand at the front of the crowd, looking up at you with a sad smile. “My mom always says it gets easier,” he told you, whispering it like a secret. “Eventually, you don’t have to think about it too hard anymore. She says it’s like maths.”
You laughed at that, a watery thing that made you smile and squeeze the boy’s hand. And that night, around the campfire, you snuck him an extra marshmallow for his s’more, winking when he beamed at you.
Even when I lose my mind
The staff party was an impromptu thing, thought of by Jonathan and Argyle, encouraged by Robin, alcohol run courtesy of Eddie and his van.
You hadn’t wanted to go, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything worse than spending your time off the clock with Steve in a small cabin, or huddled around a fire by the lake. But Robin insisted and the promise of wine lured you in, the idea of numbing the ache that still hadn’t left more inviting by the minute.
Then Nancy was at the cabin door, a staff shirt swapped for one of her boyfriend's sweaters, bottles of wine in her hands. She gave one to Robin, twisted your fingers with her own and then you were being led through the woods, to the split in the shrubs that only the counsellors knew about, the tiny, hidden trail that led to a patch of sand that was far away from the dock and Hopper’s office window.
There was a fire going, a pile of shoes by the rocks, people treading water up to their ankles, music playing from a boombox that crackled with static at the same time the flames popped on the logs.
It was fine until it wasn’t. It was nice until the wine became too much and the lake started to blur with the sky and suddenly, there were stars on the sand, fallen and forgotten and everyone danced over the top of them, left feet tripping over right.
You swayed, head pounding to the beat of the bass and the forest seemed to tilt on an axis as you left your shoes behind and slipped off into the night. You were tired, tongue coated with tequila that Eddie made you shoot with him, stomach swirling with bad beer and jealousy whenever Chrissy wandered close to Steve.
Nothing happened. Just like Steve said. But you wanted to drop yourself in the boy’s lap and press your nose to his neck, find the spot that made his hands grip your waist a little tighter, dozing there until he’d laugh at you, sticky sweet and fond, telling you it was time for bed.
So you took yourself there, unnoticed by the rest of your friends, all of them too busy, too drunk. The shadows between the trees were dark but the lights on each porch led you home, back to your cabin that smelled like lavender body spray and spilled vodka, the raspberry remnants soaked up with a bath towel, forgotten on the floor.
You tripped up on it in your mission to get to your bunk, bare feet cold and hazily. You wondered where your shoes were. But you stripped, struggled with your sleep shorts and dug under your pillow for the sweater you knew you’d folded there.
It was forest green and too big, and it smelled like the boy whose name was stitched on the front. You hiccuped and pulled it on, asking yourself with a mumble, why was the cabin spinning? You thought maybe it was the pizza rolls you had instead of a proper dinner, ‘cause it certainly wasn’t the alcohol.
Of course it wasn’t.
And then, teary eyed and suddenly overwhelmed, you gasped, a heaving breath that stuttered into a sob. You groaned, eyes closing, your head thumping on the cabin wall as you fell back into your pillows. Your stomach gurgled, rolled and dipped.
You absolutely were not going to be sick. You hated being sick.
You were not. Going. To be. Sick.
Your body made a sound of disagreement.
“No,” you whispered to yourself, sitting up to take some deep breaths. It didn’t really help, a too hot flush rushing over your chest and up your neck, settling over your cheeks until it was so warm you were cold. “No, no, no.”
You didn’t really think about how much time had passed since you left the party. It could’ve been twenty minutes, maybe two hours. The night was still dark, with the morning not in sight, the skies above just as inky as before. But when you opened the cabin door, there weren’t any stars on the ground, not anymore.
You didn’t know how long it had been since you left the beach, but you knew it had been five long weeks since you walked away from Steve Harrington and his backyard.
So you went looking for him.
Bare feet, cold and damp in the moss, sticking to the wilder parts of the woods, drunkenly complaining when you stood on something with thorns. You would’ve been a sight, a sure way to receive a warning if found by Hopper or Murray, but you found you didn’t really care. You wondered if the boy was still at the lake, if anyone was.
The moon was still high and the stars were back where they should be but when you stopped too long to look up, the world swayed a little, your stomach jumping with it.
You groaned, mumbling a little about the toadstools by the trees, how you needed to not squish them, ‘cause Argyle would be mad. And then there was a familiar cabin set back from the path, the lights off and cloaked in silence. You walked up the porch steps anyway, remembering to knock, not walk in, even when the alcohol made everything cloudy.
You waited, stomach churning, breath bated, lips turned down into a too dramatic frown, but you had decided you didn’t want to be drunk anymore and you certainly didn’t want to be alone. The silence stretched on, loud enough that it buzzed and you hiccuped again, tummy jumping in protest. You hushed yourself, curling the too long sleeves of the sweater into your fists, ‘cause you decided you needed something to hold onto.
You absolutely were not going to fall.
You wobbled, bare feet standing on top of each other, toes squished, a curse on your lips. Steve opened the door.
He said your name, surprised but warm, fond like he used to, the way you wanted him to. Your gaze shot up, toes forgotten about as you took him in, soft and sleep, hair a riot, chest bare.
“Hi.”
“What’re you doing? Are you okay?” He’d noticed your absence soon after you’d left, your shoes forgotten on the sand. But Robin had disappeared too, so he assumed you’d left together. The lake didn’t hold much interest for him after that. “Is something wrong?”
You wanted to laugh at that, you wanted to tell him everything was wrong.
But instead, you hiccuped, nose wrinkled. “I feel sick.” Another hiccup, a small groan to accompany it. “And I don't wanna be sick.”
Steve frowned, that soft kind of grumpy where his brows crinkled together and he looked at you with too much concern. His hand cupped your elbow, too gentle, like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. But the world righted itself again with his help and when you stumbled, just a little, Steve sighed.
“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “C’mon.”
He led you into his cabin, the space still dark and smelling like boy, like his aftershave and Eddie’s, the tangerine peels that Steve had left at lunch, the cherry twizzlers Eddie stashed in his desk drawers. Steve flicked the lamp on, a flicker that turned into a dim glow, too weak to make your eyes hurt but you squinted anyway.
“I’m gonna be sick,” you complained and you sounded panicked, the floor dipping and tilting as you walked.
Steve’s hands found your shoulders, wide and warm and taking up so much space. He led you to his bed and sat you on the edge, his sheets still warm from where he’d been lying, half asleep and thinking about you.
“You’re not gonna be sick,” he told you, pushing you back until you were comfy, kneeling before you to scrub at your poor, dirty feet with a towel. He fussed, inspecting your soles for injury. “Jesus, you could’ve cut yourself, you dummy.”
“I might be sick,” you replied, morose. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do,” Steve huffed back, keeping in the laugh he wanted to let out. “You’re never sick. S’like your superpower.”
You paused, as if remembering. He was right. But still, you felt unsettled, skin too warm and clammy, but the idea of taking off your sweater - Steve’s sweater - wasn’t an option to you. At least, not to drunk you.
You blinked as the boy rolled socks over your feet, too big and sporting a soccer team logo that you hadn’t cared to remember. You wiggled your toes, eyes still a little unfocused.
“S’like I have clown feet,” you murmured and Steve rolled his eyes.
“Alright, stay there.”
He disappeared only to come back seconds later with a bottle of water, not quite ice cold, but cool enough that you chugged it with enthusiasm, gasping when you finished it. You blinked again, lashes fluttering until the cabin came into a clearer view, if only just. Steve was leaning against his desk, arms folded and smiling like he couldn’t help himself.
He’d slipped a t-shirt on when you weren’t looking, a threadbare thing that was stretched out at the collar and you knew from wearing it to bed too often, that there was a hole in the hem. He looked softer than ever, that kind of sleep mussed that you loved, where he looked like summer and Sunday mornings, long lies and breakfast in bed, toothpaste kisses and the promise of a day being lazy.
Your heart hurt as much as your stomach.
“Better?” He asked.
“A little,” you nodded, head feeling too heavy to be on your neck. You slumped, socked feet curling under yourself, your head falling to the foot of Steve’s bed. His sheets smelled like him and you groaned like it was an awful discovery, your eyes closing in protest. “M’sorry.”
Steve didn’t acknowledge your apology, but he did come to sit by you, up by his pillows where he could watch your chest rise and fall, lips parting as tequila flavoured sleep tugged at you.
[COPING ALL ON MY OWN BY BELUGA LAGOON]
“Why’d you come here, princess?”
You were sure you smiled at that, the soft way he said his name for you. Maybe you hid it, maybe Steve didn’t notice. He definitely did. “Didn’t feel well, Stevie.”
“No, I know, but—”
“Wanted to feel better,” you sighed, as if it were obvious. Maybe it was. You yawned, cheek rubbing against the comforter, the cloying, sickly heat you’d once felt slowly disappearing. “So I needed to come see you.”
Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t think he could, not when his throat felt tight and you were stretching a leg out, bare and with an already bruised knee from doing god knows what. His fingertips brushed over your ankle and he received a soft sigh from you in return, lips curling into a sleep smile as you felt your eyes shut.
“You always make me feel better,” you added, feeling the need to explain.
Steve’s hand wrapped around your ankle then, warm even through his socks. You hummed, a sleepy, upset sound, soft enough that it made Steve’s heart stutter and he clung to you a little tighter.
“M’so sad that you’re leaving, Steve.”
He heard his heart break, he was sure of it, the boy sucking in a breath as he tried not to let his emotions out. It wouldn’t have mattered, you were drowsy, still too drunk, face pushed to his sheets and your foot in his lap. But you didn’t look as peaceful anymore, brows stitched together, lips downturned.
“I don’t want you to leave me.”
The boy sniffed, lips parting with a gasp because he was crying before he realised, silent tears rolling down his cheeks that you couldn’t see and he nodded, swallowing hard to keep himself in check. “I know, princess,” another heaving breath, “I don’t wanna leave you either.”
Your face crumpled a little more then, leg stretching out until your toes dug at the soft of Steve’s stomach and he smiled, watery eyed but just so pleased that you were close. That he could touch you.
“Then why are you?” You asked him, quiet and gentle and so much softer than you’d asked before. There wasn’t any yelling. It felt more dangerous this way. “Why’re you leaving?”
Steve swept a hand up your calf, careful and wary, waiting to see if you shoved him away. You didn’t, you curled into him instead, pushing your leg into his touch, seeking out more and you sighed when he tucked his thumb behind your knee. He drew hearts there, on the sensitive skin, and smiled when you shivered.
“My dad,” Steve explained and his voice sounded a little wrecked, croaking and splintering.
You hummed again, knowing, your eyes still closed as you said, “Don’t tell him, but, I don’t like him that much.”
The boy snorted at your honesty, not seeing much point at reminding you that he was already very aware of that fact. You’d never tried to hide your dislike for the man, speaking politely when spoken to, but keeping it short and civil. You always made a point to place your hand in Steve’s under the table at dinners, squeezing his when his father droned on about futures and business deals and how spending six weeks at a camp in the middle of nowhere didn’t get people places.
“I don’t like him all that much either,” Steve whispered back, like it was all some sort of secret. “In fact, I don’t really like him at all, right now.”
You opened your eyes then, blinking at Steve in the low light. You saw his flushed cheeks, his red rimmed eyes, the tears that he’d not yet managed to swipe away.
“Steve,” you mumbled his name like you were going to cry too, fumbling clumsily to your knees so you could make your way up the bed, letting him catch your hands when you reached for him.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked, not questioning it when you folded yourself into his arms, his face finding the crook of your neck like he always did. Your hands knitted into the mess of his hair and the boy wasn’t sure how someone could feel so happy and so helpless all at once. You were in his lap now, bundled there with his socks and his sweater, smelling like campfire smoke and you. “I’m really fucking sorry, princess. I don’t know if I said that yet.”
You shook your head, tequila and wine colouring your edges but Steve had his arms wrapped around you tight and he still smelled the same, like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “I miss you,” you mumbled, voice wavering as you blinked away tears, not noticing how they fell into his hair anyway. “I really miss you and m’sorry too, I— I don’t know what to do.”
Steve nodded, like he knew what you meant. Maybe he did. Maybe he understood all too well what it was like to feel lost, to be somewhere that felt more like home than his house did, yet still feel like it wasn’t the same as it used to be.
He wrapped his arms around you tighter. He shouldn’t have said it, knowing that tomorrow you’d both wake up and he’d still be leaving for Arizona in less than two months. He shouldn’t have suggested it, even with Eddie’s empty bed, the boy probably passed out in a hot boxed van with Argyle and Jonathan.
He shouldn’t have said it but he did.
“Stay?” His breath stuttered, a messy thing, as he pulled back and gazed at you. He wanted to lean in, rest his head against your own. But that was too much, too dangerous. “Stay tonight?”
He only meant to sleep, to lay next to each other and let the other be held, maybe for one last time. The idea of it stung, but the way you nodded and lay your head against his chest felt better, an overwhelming surge of dopamine that tricked you both into thinking everything would be okay.
Maybe that was just the tequila. Maybe it was just the feeling of being close again.
So he shuffled you both until he was against the pillows and you were against him, legs tangled and head on his chest. You hands made fists in his soft shirt, fingers twisting there like you were scared to let go. Steve thought maybe you were. So held you a little closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck and his nose skimming over your hairline, the closest thing he’d get to kissing you. He couldn’t cross that line, you were both drunk and god, he’d never recover from it.
He wouldn’t be able to leave you if he got to put his lips to yours again.
“Alright?” Steve asked, a whisper that stirred the baby hairs by your forehead and you nodded.
“Feel better now,” you slurred tiredly, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, sleep dragging at you. “…hey, Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you call me back?”
The boy frowned, wondering what you meant. Call him back? When? When did you call? “What?” He tried to crane his neck to see you, but you’d pushed your face into his shirt, lashes fluttering. “When? What’re you talkin’ about?”
You didn’t answer, breath evening out into soft puff, your body lax against him.
“Princess?”
You were asleep.
—————
You woke up before Steve, slipping out of his arms and his bed before he could wake, the early morning hour and last night's beer keeping him pressed into his pillows, eyes closed, lips parted.
You stood aimlessly in the middle of the cabin for minutes too long, Steve’s socks sliding down your ankles, his sweater smelling like him more than ever.His chest had been pressed to your back all night, his nose buried in your hair. Eddie’s bunk was still empty, a sigh of relief leaving you your lips as you realised that there was one less person to explain to.
Robin was going to have an aneurysm.
Your face crumpled all over again as you watched Steve one last time, heart beating too fast for such an early morning hour. He’d taken to hugging a pillow in your absence, nose pushed into it, eyes closed and lashes fluttering, like he was dreaming. His hair was a mess, wonderfully so, and you fucking ached to run your hands through it, to sooth back the strands that fell across his forehead, to kiss the skin you revealed underneath.
You didn’t. You couldn’t. It would hurt too much.
So you left.
The pain behind your eyes distracted you just enough from the fact you still didn’t have shoes. Steve’s socks gathered pine needles and dirt as you tried to tiptoe down the pathways, hobbling past any particularly muddy areas. The camp was still asleep, only the birds just waking up, that ultraviolet morning light creating navy shadows between the trees, birdsong starting from above the canopy.
You guessed it was about six o’clock, maybe earlier, maybe five. There was no sign of anyone stirring, the curtains in each cabin still closed against the rising sun. So you paused at one of the crossroads, looking left and right as you decided what you wanted to do.
It would be mean to wake Robin, your cabin door far too old and squeaky to allow a silent entrance and honestly, the idea of your own bed didn’t entice you nearly as much as Steve’s had done. You wondered if Bob was in the kitchen yet, if there was food to be scavenged, something that would soak up the tequila and beer that was rolling around in your empty stomach.
Unsure, you headed towards the lakefront instead, socked feet trailing through the damp grass, morning dew collecting at your ankles. You were seriously rethinking your life choices, swiping a hand over your face as you tried to bring yourself back to life. You should go back to your cabin.
You should go back to your cabin and tell Robin you fell asleep in your car, or something, fuck, in a tree, you didn’t care. You should go to bed and sleep it off and never talk about how you ran to Steve Harrington ever again.
He was your ex. He was leaving. You were only going to keep getting hurt.
The other side of your brain told you that it wasn’t his fault, that he was trapped, stuck, as helpless about the situation as you felt. You remembered him telling you that he missed you too and that he was sorry.
There was a really fuzzy recollection of him whispering that he didn’t wanna leave you.
You kicked a stone, groaning through pressed together lips as you realised too late - you still didn’t have any fucking shoes.
“Hawkins.”
Fuck.
Murray stood in neon gym shorts and the most ancient camp staff shirt you’d ever seen, sweatbands around his wrist and his glasses hanging from a beaded chain around his neck. His socks were pulled way too high up his legs but shit, at least he had shoes.
“Murray. Hi,” you waved a little awkwardly, toes pushed together and hands dragging at the hem of the sweater as if you could hide the fact you were wearing sleep shorts and a top that was most definitely not yours. “Nice morning for a run, huh.”
He stared at you blankly, eyes catching your lack of attire. He sighed, turning around and waving for you to follow. “C’mon.”
It was surprisingly easy to follow Murray to the mess hall, his keys clinking together in the quiet as he unlocked the kitchen door. The place was still empty, the metal worktops gleaming, the overhead lights humming to life when they were switched on.
Murray turned to you, shrugging, his arms held out to the full refrigerator, the large cooker, the overflowing pantry. “Pancakes?” He asked and there was a small smile on his face when you nodded.
It was even easier to tell the man everything, perched on a countertop as Murray donned one of Bob’s white aprons, the material tied in a bow over his running shorts. He listened and nodded as you ranted, flipping pancake after pancake, stacking them on the plate beside you, only interrupting to coax them into your hands.
And when you were finished talking and your socks were almost dry, Murray nodded to the fork in your hand, the still full plate of food. “You done?” He asked, not meanly— just, well, just like Murray. You huffed, nodding. “Good, eat.”
So you did as you were told, dipping your breakfast into the puddle of syrup, eyes closing briefly as you chewed, the hit of sugar helping the impending hangover. You both ate in silence, Murray leaning against the kitchen sink and when you were both done, he handed you a large glass of water and waited until you drained the last drop from it.
“So, you want my advice?”
You stared at the man, unsure. Did you?
“Couldn’t hurt, right?” You shrugged, defeated and tired. It couldn’t ache anymore than your head, or the hole in your heart. “Lay it on me.”
Murray smiled and shook his head, rinsing off the dishes as he spoke. He was serious about it, surprisingly so, his voice losing that usual sarcastic cadence, his gaze set on the sticky plates before him.
“You love him, right? You don’t have to answer that. It’s fairly clear to see.” Murray sighed, like telling you this was tiring, like this was all old information. “And he loves you - that’s even more obvious. And I don’t know a lot about what you guys get up to back at home but… I’ve met Steve’s dad before.”
You frowned, confused. “You have?”
“Years ago,” Murray noted. “Think it was Steve’s last year as a camper. Think he’d come second in the relay race or the boat contest, or something. Anyway, before pick up, we did an award ceremony. Steve came up, got his little plastic medal, waved out to the crowd. His parents were actually there - usually it was some nanny in a black car, y’know?”
You did know. You’d see the same woman at school, handing Steve his backpack and lunch, kissing the spot on the crown of his head where his mom should have.
“Kid was proud as punch. Ran over to his parents waving this stupid medal around. His mom gave him a hug. His dad saw that that little piece of plastic was silver and not gold, and well…” Murray trailed off, a furrow between his brow as he remembered. “I think the chief had to go over and remind Mr Harrington that it wasn’t the time for a family dispute. And that his son had worked hard and was a damn good kid.”
It sounded so familiar, so much so that it hurt. You’d seen that kind of thing before, even now when Steve stood as tall as his dad. “What did his dad say?” You asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
Murray turned and smiled at you, but it was sad, coloured blue by the story, the memory. He wiped his hands on a towel and sighed. “He said he wasn’t interested in a second rate kid. That Harrington’s were winners.”
You didn’t say anything, you didn’t need to. You were left with the stickiness of maple syrup on your fingertips, on the flat of your tongue, but something still tasted bitter, a sensation that made you wrinkle your nose and frown.
It tasted like guilt.
Tell me that I'm all you want
You didn’t see Steve for the rest of the day. In fact, you didn’t see him until the next afternoon, late into the Sunday, once the sky was pink and purple and the kids were eating s’mores around the fire.
You felt awful for leaving him in his bed alone, the covers thrown back where you’d slipped from his side and snuck out the door. Murray’s words had only made you feel worse as the hours stretched on, but you had convinced yourself it was the hangover, the sour taste of last night's beer. And when Robin had finally cornered you, you avoided her gaze and her questions, letting her shake her head and tut at you until the bell for dinner rang.
And the next day went the same, turning corners and weaving through woodland paths in the hopes that Steve wasn’t around the corner. Because you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to fix it. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad, maybe it didn’t really matter - because he was still leaving, right? This didn’t make a difference, did it?
But then you saw him by the fire pit, head and shoulders taller than even the oldest of the kids, handing out Graham crackers and telling Max she wasn’t allowed to play with the fire. You caught his eye without meaning to, unable to pull your gaze away and you thought about smiling, you thought about going over, you thought about saying sorry.
For everything. For all of it.
Until Steve’s pretty face contorted into a scowl, his eyes narrowing into a glare that you hadn’t seen directed at you in years. He looked pissed. Worse, he looked hurt. But he was doing his damn best to cover that upset with anger, lips curling at you until you glared right back.
“Jeez, did we travel back in time?” Mike Wheeler appeared at your elbow, his hand held out for the giant marshmallows you were supposed to be handing out to your group. “Why do you and Steve hate each other? Again?”
“That’s none of your business, Wheeler,” you replied witheringly, making sure you squished his marshmallow as you handed it to him.
“They don’t hate each other,” Dustin materialised at your other side, melted mallow dripping down his fingers, sticky sugar coating his hand. He looked up at you from under his curls, wide eyed and earnest. “Right?”
You looked down at the boy with sad eyes, a smile that was even sadder. You shrugged and pulled at a curl, watching as it bounced back. “Right,” you told him, even if you weren’t sure you believed it yourself.
“My mom says that all couples go through their differences,” Suzie joined your group, two sticks at the ready, waiting to spear her marshmallows on for roasting. She grinned at you toothily, one missing after an incident with Max and a dodgeball. “She said it’s normal. But then she drinks a lot of wine and sleeps a lot so she forgets in the morning.”
You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you stared at Suzie with a strained smile and nodded anyway. “Sure, exactly. Yeah.”
“I heard Steve’s moving away,” Mike chipped in again, blissfully ignorant to the way your frown returned at his words. “Will he work at a new camp in Arizona?”
“What?” Dustin was aghast, chocolate dripping to the forest floor without him realising. “No! He can’t!” He spun back to look at you, as if you could fix it all. You wish you could’ve. “He can’t, right?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you stood amongst the kids and stared at Steve through the crowd. He wasn’t smiling, shoulder to shoulder with Eddie as they continued to hand out snacks, and whenever the boy looked up and caught your gaze, the furrow between his brows reappeared. You thought about Steve in a new state, across the country in a dorm room that had a bed you’d never sleep in, one that was open to other girls, girls you’d never know about.
Maybe there would be another camp, there’d certainly be another job. And there would be classes and lectures, campus coffee shops and student bars, all overflowing with new people to meet. Maybe Steve would find someone there, someone he didn’t hate at first, someone who he could flirt with, someone who didn’t know about his parents, his past, his daddy’s influence.
Maybe he’d be happier there. Without you.
Dustin was still looking at you, waiting for a response. You tried to smile, you did. But it was tight and watery, and not believable at all. “I don’t know, bud,” you shrugged. “It’s… whatever.”
If Steve could decide that he didn’t care anymore, that he could go back to glaring at you across the forest, you could too. What did he expect you to do? Wake up in his arms and suddenly decide that you were okay with moving to another state? That you were happy to obey his fathers orders, just like he was?
It didn’t make a difference. Nothing would change. It didn’t matter. If Steve wanted to play enemies again, fine. You’d give as good as he did.
—————
When Dustin and El found you later that day, you were glad for the distraction. The lake had been quiet after swimming classes, the forest shrouded in shadows after heavy clouds rolled in, hiding the sun. The two had run towards you from the centre of camp, sneakers kicking up dust as you watched them, ignoring how Billy was trying to edge closer, fingers teasing at the straps of your swimsuit.
You’d told him to leave you alone, you’d told him to fuck off. You’d even tried to ignore him. Every option only made the boy grin wider. So you left your post on the dock and made your way towards the kids, smiling up until you saw their worried faces, panic in their eyes. You moved faster, meeting them by the shoreline, concern growing like a knot in your stomach.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, already searching over their heads for some kind of danger, for an emergency.
“Will needs help!” Dustin urged as El grabbed your hand, tugging at you, waiting for you to follow.
“What? What’s wrong? Where is he?” You were already running with them, following them past the mess hall, past the gym, towards where the cabins grew older, damp and unused, overgrown with vines and weeds.
“Uh, an allergic reaction!” Dustin yelled.
“Asthma attack!” El told you at the same time.
You slowed, just a little, your pace stumbling at each answer. You looked down at the girl, her flushed cheeks and wide eyes, wondering if you’d heard them both right. “Wait, wha—?” But then Dustin was grabbing your other hand and pulling you with determination, feet tripping over fallen branches until a cabin came into view.
Lucas and Max were standing outside of it, waving their arms like they were trying to flag you down, as if you could miss them.
“He’s in here!” Lucas told you, worried scrambled with what you thought was panic. “We think it’s a snake bite. Maybe a tarantula!”
Again, you stopped, looking between the four kids with confusion wrinkling your features. “What? A tarantula? Guys— shouldn’t we get Hopper? Someone needs to—”
“Mike and Suzie are getting him,” Max assured you, smiling too sweetly as Lucas and El placed their hands on your back, pushing you towards the door.
The cabin was dark, most of the windows boarded up, broken glass on the forest floor. Why the fuck was Will in there? Before you could ask, you were shoved one final time, the door slamming shut behind you. You made a sound of protest, turning to wiggle the handle but it was already locked.
“Guys! What the hell!” You thumped on the door with a fist, rattling the wood until the old hinges squeaked in protest. It wouldn’t budge. “Are you kidding me?”
There was nothing but the sound of birds, insects that buzzed and the distant sound of kids on the lake. “Guys! Dustin! I swear to god, you’re gonna be in so much trouble. I know this was your idea—”
The rusting of leaves, a twig snapping and then more voices. Hushed whispers that were interjected with another voice, an older one.
Male and annoyed.
No.
The cabin door opened abruptly and before you could barge your way out, another body was shoved inside, clumsy and disorientated. The figure was tall, broad shouldered and wearing a camp counsellor shirt, the forest green cotton sun bleached and faded. The boy’s hair was a mess, his cheeks already freckled from the sun, his brown eyes squinting into the dim light as he adjusted out of the sun.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“What the fuck?” Steve stood in the middle of the empty cabin, scowling at you even through his confusion. But the door had already been slammed shut again, the metallic clunk of a deadbolt sliding into place. “What’s going on? Those little shits told me they found a fucking bear cub.”
You rolled your eyes, stomping over to the door to bang on it again. “There’s no bears in Indiana, Steve, we’ve been over this.” You huffed when Steve swore and suddenly the cabin felt five times as small. “Dustin! Max!”
Silence.
“Then how’d they get you here, huh?” Steve spat, marching over to one of the boarded windows, doing his best to push the planks free of the rusted nails. “Did they tell you Hargrove was wet and waiting or something?”
You stared at him, gaze withering as you attempted to ram your shoulder into the door. It did nothing but bruise your arm and your ego, the wood refusing to move. “Get over yourself, Steve. Just because you’re happy to let Chrissy follow you around with her pom-poms out, doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump the next guy I see. Lucas! I know you’re still there! El, open the door!”
The space outside the cabin was silent and for a horrified second, you were almost sure the kids had left.
“I told you, it’s not like that,” Steve growled, slamming his palm into the board one more time.
“Yeah, well, despite me being repulsed by Billy Hargrove for the last five years, you don’t seem to get that it’s not like that either,” your voice was poisonous, your glare just as deadly. “So let’s not play that game, Harrington.”
Steve let out a bitter laugh, forgetting about his escape plan to round on you instead. “Oh, so it’s Harrington again, is it?”
[EXILE BY TAYLOR SWIFT FT. BON IVER]
It felt awfully familiar, the sharpness in his tone, the mocking laughter, the way he glared at you. ‘Cause despite the anger, the annoyance, the frustration, a tension was still there that you’d recognised from your first year at camp with Steve.
A feeling that followed you home to Hawkins, one that greeted you every time you bumped into the boy in the supermarket, every time you spotted him at the pool, the arcade, the bowling alley. A tension that fizzed and popped, your own personal storm that crackled everytime Steve Harrington was near.
Except now - just like the beginning - you weren’t able to do anything about it.
“I can think of names that are a lot less nice than that,” you snapped back, turning away from the door to face him. “Take your pick, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you would, princess,” Steve was closer now, toe to toe, another achingly familiar position. You could smell his cologne, his sunscreen. You could see the way new freckles had gathered across the bridge of his nose. “No need to get bitchy about it though.”
All thoughts of kissing him, of lunging forward and pushing your lips to his to try and end this mess - to fix it - left your head at his words. You gaped at him, anger rising, blood boiling. Steve looked at you like he knew he’d overstepped.
“Bitchy?” You repeated, your voice getting higher in pitch and volume. “About it? It?”
“I didn’t mean it like that—”
“What’s ‘it’ Steve?” You steamrolled him, arms crossed over your chest as you took another step forward, your converse kicking at the toes of his sneakers. “Our breakup? I'm not to get bitchy about that?”
“Hey, you’re the one who broke up with me,” Steve shot back, an accusatory finger pointed in your direction. “So don’t act all high and mighty about it.”
“I broke up with you?” You scoffed, letting the annoyance buzz at your skin like a swarm of wasps, anything to stop yourself from crying. “You’re leaving, Steve. You’re leaving me, remember?”
“You left me the other night!” Steve burst out, throwing back his response like it was suddenly a competition, a contest to see who hurt the other more. To see who’s heart was the most broken. “You left. I woke up, and you were fucking gone, so don’t start yelling about being left alone.”
You weren’t sure who was winning.
“You’re moving across the fucking country!” You yelled, finally snapping, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “You’re really, really leaving me.”
You took a step back then, and another and another, clumsy through the cabin until your back hit a table. Steve’s hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted you to hold onto it. He didn’t move.
“What do you want me to do?” Steve said, his voice more serious than you’d ever heard it. In fact, he sounded a little like his dad. “You want me to say no to him? Huh? D’you want me to say fuck it to the last opportunity I’ll probably ever get? Want me to stay unsuccessful with a shit job and a shit wage and just hope one day I can do enough for you? For us?”
Your eyes turned watery at that, despite the anger his words ignited in you, the frustration. “You’ve always been enough for me, Steve.”
The boy came closer then, like he’d wanted to. His footsteps were unsure, nervous and slow, but when he realised you weren’t backing away, you weren’t running, he was suddenly toe to toe. He was taller, tall enough for you to have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze and you didn’t try to hide your tears. You held your head proud instead, refusing to look away. Your stubbornness made the boy smile, a little knowing, a little sad. ‘Cause he wanted to wipe your eyes, sweep his thumb under your lash line and pull you close.
“So what do I do, princess? Rip up the acceptance letter and mail the pieces to my dad? Hope he doesn’t kick me out of the family? Hope I have a bed to go back to? Do I get down on my knees for you here? Do I beg for you? Do I ask you to be mine again and hope to fuck that what ever comes next works out for us? Do I go back to Family Video and wait for you to work out what you wanna do with your life too?”
Steve wasn’t teary eyed like you were, but his expression seemed worse. His brows knitted together, his gaze helpless, sad, worried. But his hands were frantic, suddenly on your waist and pulling you close, chests bumping, his fingers twisting into your shirt.
“Do I kiss you now? Do I fuck you over this table and call you princess? Tell you that-- that,” Steve choked on his words, shaking his head at you like you were the one asking for him to say it. To admit it. “To tell you that I love you and it’s gonna be fine no matter what?”
You could help but feel the pull in your stomach at his words, the hook there that seemed to be tied to the way Steve kept his hands on you, your body pressed against his. He leaned in and you kept your eyes on his, noses bumping, lips hovering. It seemed so long since you’d last kissed him, years and years and years. You wondered what would happen if you gave in, if you pushed yourself onto your toes and pressed your mouth to his. Would it fix things? Would it change his mind, would it change yours? Would it make you feel better, even just for a second?
“Are you happy?” you asked the boy instead and you watched his bravado crumble in front of your eyes. “Are you happy about Arizona? About college? About finance and your future and leaving?”
Steve let go of you and stepped back, his warmth and the smell of his cologne fading. You should’ve stopped talking, you should’ve pulled him back and kissed him one last time, let him pull off your clothes, clumsy and desperate, you should’ve begged for him to make you come one last time, you should’ve made him feel so good that he’d never forget the way you felt wrapped around him.
“Would you be happy if I came with you? If I let your dad buy us some condo in Phoenix? If I went to college too, to study a major I didn’t want? Maybe get a job in an office where I gotta wear some tight, little pencil skirt and too high heels, but shit, it’s good money, right?” You were breathing harder now, trying not to cry, trying not to give in and say fuck it to all of it. “Would that make you happy, Steve?”
‘No,’ he wanted to say. ‘No it wouldn’t.’ He wanted to tell you that he wanted none of that, that none of that would make him feel any better. He wanted to yell out and kick the wall, kick the door. He wanted to grab you and pull you close, ask you to kiss him until he felt better, until he had enough courage to tell his dad that he wasn’t fucking following his rules. Until he felt brave enough to take your hand and let the pieces fall where they may.
Instead, he turned and made his way to the door, opening it easily, like the kids had heard enough and realised that this wasn’t going to work. Steve stopped then, his back to you as he paused in the doorframe, the forest empty and quiet before him. Like it was waiting for him, like you were.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Steve murmured sadly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“I just want you to be happy, Steve,” you whispered back. “I want you to do what makes you happy.”
Steve walked away.
—————
Steve didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to get away from the cabin, from you, from the way you looked at him, the way you sounded. Like you were broken and hurt and it was all his fault.
Like he couldn’t do anything about it.
He passed the kids who were lingering by a broken log, kicking stones and looking guilty. Steve didn’t say anything, just tried to smile a little sadly at Dustin when he mouthed an apology, eyes wide and sad.
The wild roots and the overgrown bushes eventually gave way back to the normality of the camp, well worn pathways and the sounds of the lake. If you’d followed him, Steve didn’t know, he didn’t hear, he didn’t look back. His father’s voice was in his head, an echo from weeks before, a mantra about what it took to become a man, six figure paychecks and the white picket fence dream.
He didn’t want to go to Arizona. He didn’t want to leave you.
Steve kept walking.
A fast car, an office with a view, a mahogany desk, a custom leather briefcase, a pretty wife and a prettier secretary. Kids you didn’t talk to, a cheque book you could bargain with, a house that was bigger than your neighbours, a pool out back that was deeper than everyone else’s.
Steve kept walking.
A promotion, golf on the weekends with your boss, business cards with your name embossed in gold. Arguments at Christmas, couples therapy on your tenth wedding anniversary, a secret email address for the woman nobody knew about.
Steve kept walking.
A life like his dad’s, his parent’s.
“Is that you, Harrington?”
Steve groaned, turning to see Billy walking up the dock and towards him. The kids in Billy’s swim group were just leaving, variations of soaking wet and shivering as they all ran past Steve with towels bundled around their shoulders, greeting him with enthusiasm.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Steve huffed, levelling the other boy with a glare that told the other counsellor that he was less than pleased to see him. Steve waited until the last camper ran past them, stumbling towards the mess hall with wet feet. “Don’t cream your pants.”
Billy grinned, that wide spreading smile that made him look more dangerous rather than friendly. He was spinning his whistle from one finger, shirtless and tanned, sauntering towards Steve like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll try not to,” he snarked, eyebrows raised. “But word on the street is you’re the one who’s not gettin’ any.”
“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Steve snarled, immediately on edge, shouldering his way past the other boy so he could continue walking to god knows where. Maybe he’d find Eddie. Maybe he’d let him sulk in the corner of the music cabin.
“Always trying,” Billy answered gleefully, ignoring Steve’s bad mood. “What about your girl?”
Steve stopped.
“My bad, she’s not your girl anymore, is she?” Steve didn’t need to turn back around to know Billy was still grinning. He could hear the laughter in his voice, the pleasure at his twisted words. “Either way, I’m pretty sure she’ll be gagging for it by now, right? You guys were always at it. In the gym, your cabin, fuck— I bet she’ll jump on the next guy who offers—”
If Steve was surprised he let Billy talk that long before launching himself at him, well, so was Billy. Steve’s fist landed on the other boy’s jaw with a crunch, a satisfyingly, sickening noise that only urged Steve on. He managed to grapple at the boy pushing him over until Billy tumbled into the dirt, skin smeared with wet sand and pine needles.
It didn’t take much for Steve to land on top of him, anger and frustration coming out as quickly as the blood from his knuckles. He managed to aim one more blow at Billy’s nose before the boy pushed him back, the breath knocked from Steve’s lungs as a fist caught his cheekbone, a crack resonating through his face, making his head buzz, his ears ring. He let out a yell as he tried to bring his knee up, catching Billy in the groin with it, pushing him back even as Billy tried his best to push Steve’s head into the forest floor, pine cones piercing his shoulders, his neck, his cheek.
And then the pressure was lifted from his chest as Billy was hauled away, tattooed arms lifting the boy off of Steve, Eddie yelling obscenities as Billy thrashed.
Steve scrambled up, launching himself forward without a care, ignoring Eddie’s warnings as he raised his arm again to try and land another hit but Jonathan caught his wrist, wrenching him backwards.
“Fuck, man. Let it go, yeah?”
Steve was panting, blood on his knuckles, a split in his cheek that was angry and red, pine needles and sand on his shirt and in his hair. “You didn’t hear what he was saying,” the boy managed to ground out. “What he was sayin’ about, about—”
“She’s not your fucking girl, Harrington,” Billy yelled, cursing when Eddie elbowed him in the side, never letting go of the hold he had on him. “The only person you’re gettin’ fucked by now is your daddy—”
Steve managed one more hit, a crack to Billy’s nose that Eddie winced at but said nothing. Unfortunately, Hopper had a lot to add to the conversation as he marched towards the group, yelling before he was even within hearing distance, moustache twitching as the campers that Steve didn’t even see, parted as he got closer.
“Harrington! Hargrove!”
Eddie and Jonathan stepped back from the accused, hands raised to show their intact knuckles, how their hands were clean, not bloodied.
“My office! Now!”
—————
Eddie jumped up from where he was lying on his bunk when Steve finally entered the cabin. The boy was flustered looking, knuckles wiped clean of blood but the cuts on his fingers and face were angry looking, red and fresh.
Hours had passed since Hopper had led the two boys into his office, both covered in blood and pieces of the forest floor, glaring at each other as they walked into the cabin.
Steve stripped off his dirty shirt as Eddie eyed him warily, dropping the comic he’d been reading in order to sit at the end of his bed and wait. When Steve finally pulled on a clean staff shirt and sighed, Eddie threw him an ice pack that he’d managed to wrangle from Joyce’s office.
“Did he fire you?”
“He offered me a job.”
Eddie blinked. “What?”
Steve groaned, letting himself fall onto the bed, his hands scrubbing at his face, hissing when he caught the Billy inflicted cut on his cheekbone. “He offered me a fucking job, dude. Didn’t even yell.”
“Like, a new job? An actual job?” Eddie moved to the end of Steve’s bed, shoving at his friend's legs until there was enough room for him to sit. “What the fuck?”
“He dealt with Hargrove and told him to walk it off,” Steve murmured, wincing when he brought the ice pack to his face. “Then he sat me down and asked me what the fuck I was playing at. He wasn’t even mad about the fight, he told me he’d heard about Arizona—‘bout my dad.”
Eddie just waited, breath held as he wondered where this was going, if Steve was going to crack.
“He said it was a real shame I wouldn’t be back next summer and that it was an even bigger crime that I was listening to Michael Harrington.”
Eddie’s mouth fell open and he picked at the bedspread, suddenly feeling awkward. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Shit. Told me he knew my dad from school, apparently they played football together or somethin’. Said he was sad that I was doing something I didn’t wanna do.”
Eddie paused then, waiting. Waiting for Steve to admit it to him the same way he’d get to admit it to himself. “What did you say?”
“Nothing at first.” Steve shrugged. “But he sat and stared me out like some kinda cop and fuck, I dunno. I started rambling.”
With raised brows and an expectant expression, Eddie waved his hand at the boy. “About?”
Steve squirmed, pink cheeked and embarrassed. He stared at the bedsheets, shrugging. “Everything, I guess. Anyway, he said he and Murray have been planning to open this kids club thing for a while, some kind of community centre. S’open seven days a week, all through the year. Not just summer.”
Steve stood up then, pacing, his hand going to his hair to pull ag the strands and Eddie had to turn to watch him, up and down, up and down the cabin.
“He wants me to run it.”
“Shit,” Eddie was quiet, shocked.
“Shit,” Steve agreed.
“Like, a manager?”
“Yeah, like a manager. Full time.” Steve let out another sigh and he sounded tense. Stressed. “It’s in Shelbyville.”
Eddie let out a low whistle, flopping back onto the space Steve had vacated. His head hit the pillows and he smiled, unable to help himself. “That’s near Hawkins, right?”
“‘Bout a half hour out,” Steve confirmed.
“Hell of a lot closer than Arizona, huh?”
“Yeah, sure is.”
“So, he offered you it, just like that?” Eddie snapped his fingers and stared at the beams across the ceiling, not sure how far he could push Steve. “No degree needed?”
“No degree needed,” Steve repeated. He sounded dazed. “Good pay, healthcare, dental, pension. Everything. Hop said he thought I’d be really good at it. That he couldn’t imagine asking anyone else.”
Steve didn’t say anything about how his manager’s words made him realise that his dad didn’t know him at all. Less than he’d originally thought.
Silence took over, just for a few minutes and Steve did the same as Eddie, flopping down onto the other bunk with a soft ‘oof’, his arms stretched out the mattress and his eyes trained on the ceiling. In the quiet, he could hear the kids by the lake, wrestled into order by another staff member, someone who sounded like Nancy. A whistle blew, shrill and sharp and then splashes, happy shrieks. Steve lay until the sun warmed his face, until he had to squint and sit up, the cabin filled with that golden kind of light that only appeared around dinner time.
The same light hit off Eddie’s rings, silver turning even brighter and rainbows bounced off of them, tiny and scattering across the walls when Eddie moved. He sat up when Steve did, both boys peach and pink coloured in the sun.
“So, what’re you gonna do?” Eddie finally asked. He said it softly, like he was scared to ask, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“I’m not sure,” Steve replied honestly and he didn’t try to hide the distress on his features. He felt tired, too heavy. A little lost. “But I don’t want to fucking go to Arizona.”
🎵 I finally found someone that can make me laugh, hahaha you so crazy, I think I wanna have your baby.🎵
summary: You’ve got a crush on the new bouncer at The Foxy Lounge. Turns out he’s not very good at his job.
word count: 13.6k
warnings: 18 + 90’s AU// Steve is in his early 30’s, Your date gets drunk and says some night nice things, some mild violence (bar fights), possessive steve, fingering, smut (p in v) cream pie, ass eating (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk.
authors note: It’s finally here! Part two of Whatta man! Steve’s night. You don’t have to read Eddie’s Night to read this one, I just think it’s more fun if you do 😉 There’s LOTS of bartender!eddie in this fic if you miss him though. (he’s your bff) This part has been a long time coming (since march lol) and I’m so happy to finally share this with you. Thank you to all of my friends who have had to listen to me talk about this for months and all of you guys who have sent me asks about our favorite boys at the foxy lounge! I wouldn’t of been able to do this with out your endless support, and excitement for this little world. Thank you, ily forever 💗
The perks of moving into the apartment that presides above The Foxy Lounge were vast for a single girl like yourself, but the perks of becoming friends with the bartender that worked there seemed to make them endless.
Memorized orders and free drinks when he was feeling nice (which he almost always was), he wore the crown of wingman of the century with pride, Eddie always made sure you had a good time. It was days like today that were your favorite though, heading home from a shitty morning shift at work, you weren’t surprised when you tugged on the front door an hour before open and it wasn’t locked. The annoyed look on his face told you he wasn’t either. An irritated groan leaves his chest at the carelessness of the owner and your landlord before popping the caps off two beers with ease. The loud clink of metal to glass echoes in the empty bar, as he flips his bottle opener between his fingers like muscle memory stuffing it in his back pocket.
“He’s gonna get us robbed one day, and I’m just gonna take my favorite bottle for damages and let them have the rest at this point.” His smile shows the lack of truth behind his words when you sit in the stool in front of him.
“Lucky for the both of you, it’s always just me.” Winking when you take a swig, the bitter liquid and the company eases the bad day out of your bones almost instantly.
The beginnings of a relaxed sigh start to push past your lips when the jarring sound of his rings slapping against the wood of the bar to the tune of a drum roll has you tense right back up. You’re unable to stop the slam of your beer before deadpanning, “you know I hate when you do that-“
“My best buddy Steve starts tomorrow night, I finally got Rick to say yes.” Eddie’s excitement has him vibrating when he cuts you off to tell you the news of the latest Foxy Lounge employee. “You’re gonna have such a crush on him. I’m calling it now.” The smirk on his face and the arch of his brow dare you to challenge him as he leans forward into your space.
Rolling your eyes with a snort, you start picking at the white sticker wrapped around the bottle.
“As if you know my type, Munson.” You can’t control the twitch of your lips the second the words leave your mouth when you finally dare to meet his amused gaze.
Eddie knew your type better than anyone else. Watching the men and sometimes women you’d bring upstairs weekend after weekend. He had you pegged and the Cheshire smile on his face told you he knew it too.
“I can hear it now.” He changes the pitch of his voice so it sounds like a bad version of yours before he continues with an exaggerated batting of his lashes, “Oh Eddie, Steve is just so dreamy. Do you think he thinks I’m cute? Will you talk to him? Come on Eddie!”
“I do NOT talk like that, asshole!” Launching a handful of bar nuts at him, he raises his hands in mock surrender shaking out the few that got stuck in his hair with a booming laugh.
“I don’t think that's a nice way to treat the guy who not only didn’t kick you out but also gave you a free beer before we opened, sweetheart.” His dimpled grin and perfect smile almost has your stomach in butterflies.
“I basically live here, besides your boss is the one who left the door unlocked. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re upping your security around here,” you tease, gulping down the rest of the beer before sliding the empty bottle over.
“We’ll see about this Steve guy you won’t shut up about, who knows Eddie, maybe it’s you who’s got a crush.”
Sweeping up the mess you made behind his bar he smirks before wiggling his brows.
“Everyone’s got a crush on Steve, baby.”
The pink fluorescent lights of the Foxy Lounge sign that hangs outside your window paints your studio in a blush tinted glow. It bleeds through the sheer floor length curtains, softening its harshness in a way that you liked. The darkness outside always makes it shine brightest around this time, a constant fight with your overhead lamp before bed. Your eyes catch the glaring red numbers on your clear digital clock reading 8:45pm.
Shit. You’re late.
No Doubt’s I’m Just A Girl plays loud enough through your boom box speakers to drown out the murmurs of the bar downstairs that spill through the slight crack in your bedroom window. You finish the last touch ups to the bubble gum colored gloss that coats your lips, smacking them together loudly. You give yourself a sweet smile in the mirror before fluttering your lashes for good measure. The finishing touch.
Finally feeling ready enough to leave, you adjust the black velvet choker around your neck with lavender painted nails. They highlight the lime green tube top that wraps around your chest as you pull at your black maxi skirt that sits above your hips hugging your curves just right.
You give yourself one last once over while you slip on your clunky Steve Madden slides, telling yourself the whole time you didn’t get all done up for the new bouncer. Instead you tell yourself it’s because you want to get lucky with the guy that invited you to get last minute drinks conveniently at the bar you above.
Turning around to give your studio apartment the safety check, you shuffle over your baby blue carpet with loud clacks from your sandals to hurriedly straighten your pink comforter and snuff out your incense. Grabbing your bag, you rush out with a flip of the light switch, only getting two steps away before having to pop back in to grab your keys hanging by the door.
The platforms on your slides are heavy as you make your way down the staircase, the narrow hallway bouncing your steps off the walls despite the cushion of the ugly brown carpet. One hand on the banister and the other dragging along the wall for balance, you pick up your pace barreling towards the door. Pushing it open with more force than normal, you hit something on the other side, hard.
An oof and the sound of plastic skidding across the sidewalk is followed by the crash of a stool that must’ve belonged to whoever was sitting on it. Stepping onto the pavement with a clack from your sandals, you stop in your tracks when you see his broad shoulders first. Bent over, you watch him collect what looks like an orange Tamagotchi, stuffing it quickly in his back pocket before brushing the dust off his dark denim clad thighs. The way he fills his jeans has your mouth dry up and his muscles flex under the black cotton shirt that wraps tight around his torso, the seams barely containing what’s underneath. Turning around he runs a big hand through his honey colored locks that stop just below his ears, pushing the fly aways from his face while the shine of the street lamp highlights his cheekbones and sharp jaw.
God you hated when Eddie was right.
Hazel eyes rake over your form while yours follow the freckles that run along his neck that lead to small moles placed like a cluster of stars along his jaw. His chiseled nose runs down a narrow line with lips tinged pink like his cheeks. The expression on his face going from irritated to flirty in a matter of seconds flat, the whites of his teeth showing when he gives you an easy smile.
“I’m - oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m running late and no one is ever sitting there and I - Are you okay?” Talking a mile a minute, you hate that he has your nerves getting the best of you.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Raising his hands up to stop you, the press of your thighs is instant when you see the silver band wrapped around the thickness of his middle finger. “No apologies necessary, it was an accident, honey.”
The endearment leaves his mouth while his lips turn his smile crooked, and it makes you dizzy. Bending down to grab the stool off the ground, a matching chain slips out from under his shirt and the glow above gives you a glimpse at the patch of thick chest hair hidden from sight.
“Besides, it’s not the first time a pretty girl has knocked me on my ass.” Folding his arms across his pecs, he leans against the brick of the bar crossing his legs at the ankles. The black boots that cover his feet look big and menacing despite his disposition.
Biting your bottom lip into a smile, you look up at him through shy lashes and you swear you hear him sigh at the sight.
“Well as long as you’re okay-“
“Steve,” he offers his name with a flash of his teeth again, a spark lighting in his eyes when he sees the way you react to it.
“Well you’ll probably see my face around here a lot,” you say, doing your best to ignore the way your cheeks burn.
“I sure hope so.” Pulling a toothpick out of his back pocket, he slides it between his lips. Jaw clenching when he bites down on the wood while his eyes roam your curves again before offering you another grin.
It makes you do one thing a man has never made you genuinely do. You giggle. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you hardly recognize yourself anymore.
“I was gonna say, 'cause I live upstairs.” Your voice is sweet despite the roll of your eyes, his jaw clenches against the wood. He liked that.
He only breaks his stare to follow the path of your finger, his eyes lingering on your open window for a second before bringing all his attention back on you. The tension grows even thicker when he kicks off the wall, realization hitting him. The soles of his boots are loud against the pavement when he closes the distance between you with two long strides. Getting close enough to smell the cinnamon on his breath, and the expensive cologne that lingers on his bronzed skin, you forget all about your date waiting for you inside.
“Eddie’s told me all about you.” Using the tip of his tongue, he pushes the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his smirk telling you all you need to know.
“That’s funny, Eddie’s told me about you too,” you lick your lips, tasting the fruit of your gloss as you look up at him from under hooded shimmering lids, “Steve.”
He inches just a little closer to teeter on the edge of what’s appropriate before responding, “Oh yeah? Did you like what you heard baby?”
His smile is as sinful as it is blinding. A darkened gaze locked on yours as he pulls the tooth pick out his mouth letting the sharp end snag his bottom lip before stuffing it in his back pocket again.
The electricity in the air sparks and fizzes, standing close enough to see the freckles that line his nose and the specks of glitter smattered in a similar pattern on your cheeks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Raising an eyebrow, your response has him sucking his teeth before rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek accepting your answer with a nod of his head.
Pulling out a small red flashlight with a soft click of the button at the end, white light floods the dark. The beam roams over the expanse of your body with a purposeful path before stopping at his outstretched hand.
“I.D.?” Amusement evident in his voice, he wiggles his fingers at you keeping up with his charade. The motion daring to make a mess of your underwear.
You try to cover up your laugh with a fake scoff, making it come out loud enough for him to snort. Your lips twitch as you try to fight the losing battle with the smile threatening to break across your face.
“What? I need to be careful here sweetheart. It’s my first night, I gotta make sure you’re really who you say you are, and not just some pretty girl trying to flirt her way inside.” He keeps the perfect poker face while he tuts at you to hurry up for the invisible line behind you.
“Would it have worked?” you ask handing him your driver’s license, wincing internally at the picture he is about to see.
Brushing his fingers against yours when he takes it for closer examination, he huffs out a laugh before looking down at you with a smug grin.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He winks like an expert before making a big show of bringing your ID close to his face like it might be a fake.
Tsking to himself as he reads it over, he peeks over at you with a sly smirk. “A whole year older than me. Good for you, I like older women.”
Closing the space that developed when you had to dig in your purse, you snatch the plastic out of his hand, relishing in the way his breath hitches because of it. “I’m shocked you can read Steve, Eddie’s taste can be a bit…shoddy.”
“I think I’m pretty good at it actually, I’m good at reading a lot of things.” Ignoring your jab he’s quick to regain his confidence. “Things like, I don’t know, body language.” The spice of the cinnamon returns when he pulls out his toothpick again. He flashes you his pearly whites when he bites down, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a silent dare to prove him wrong.
Like magnets finding each other, the toes of his boots brush against your sandals. When did he get this close again?
Mariah Carey’s Fantasy cuts off any witty response that sits on the tip of your tongue as the bar door creaks open, rudely snapping you both back to reality. A boy who looks barely above the legal age is the culprit for popping your bubble, stopping dead in his tracks when the flirting bouncer’s attention redirects itself to where it should be. You already miss it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, punk.” Grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt, he mutters a ‘shit’ under his breath.
You take a step back, your eyes meeting Eddie's from inside, the commotion catching his and a few other patrons' stares, including your date.
Oh yeah, you had a date.
“I’m gonna need to see some I.D.” Steve’s voice drops deeper after he clears his throat, if his tamagotchi didn’t beep right after, signaling it’s need to be fed it would’ve been more intimidating. Your own digital pet buried at the bottom of your bag probably doing the same, already reborn fresh this morning from forgetting it at home while at work the night before.
“Umm, you see, I left my wallet at home,” the kid starts to stammer, the metal of his braces showing when he gives the bouncer a nervous grin.
Almost forgetting he had an audience, Steve’s eyes meet yours, softening before that million dollar smile takes over his handsome face.
“You’re free to go in. You know where to come when you wanna talk about all those things you liked hearing about me.”
Your stomach flutters despite the roll of your eyes at his words and you're reminded crossing the threshold that you’re here to meet another man, already scolding yourself for not taking Eddie’s warning seriously.
“I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you, Steve?” You linger in the door frame, looking at him from over your shoulder, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“You already know the answer to that, gorgeous.” His toothpick switches sides again before finally going back to doing his job, tugging the kid closer.
“I.D. or no entry dick head.”
Despite there being no line outside, the bar was pretty full. The low buzz of conversation before the drinks really start to hit filling the crowded space. Mariah finishes her last high note when your eyes connect with Eddie’s before meeting Devin’s. He’s dressed like Danny Tanner and it makes you cringe. Pushing up his wire frame glasses, he waves so eagerly the Salmon’s that cover his dress shirt look like they're swimming in the background rapids with the movements of his arm. He’s completely oblivious to Eddie mocking him behind his back, mouthing ‘DORK’ with a shit eating grin before finally attending to the girl with smeared makeup that had been desperately trying to get his attention from the other end of the bar.
You take a deep breath, readjusting the strap of your bag before you push your chin up making your way over. Determined to have a good time, you put on your best face, returning his wave with forced enthusiasm while Steve’s smile etches itself into your memory permanently.
Paula Abdul’s Vibeology starts pumping through the speakers around you, the sticky floor vibrating with the bass under your sandals as you sway your hips to the beat. He stands up when you approach his spot at the bar and you notice his button up is tucked into mustard colored corduroy slacks, and it makes you miss the tight fitting denim of the man outside even more. Shaking your head to try and get rid of all the thoughts swirling in your head about the guy you weren’t on a date with, you desperately try to match Devin’s excited energy when he opens his arms for a hug.
“I was starting to get worried you were standing me up.” He laughs nervously as you tuck yourself into his chest. Your eyes peek over his shoulder meeting Eddie’s again as he slides your favorite drink over (tequila and pineapple), and god you wish you hadn’t.
Wiggling his eyebrows, you flip him the bird behind Devin’s back watching the bartender pretend to catch it and put it in his pocket making your eyes hit the back of your skull.
“No, sorry, I just lost track of the time.” Not a total lie you leave out the fact that you forgot about him completely just a few minutes ago. Pulling away, you avoid his eyes, too scared they’ll give you away.
“All is forgiven, pretty lady.” He bows slightly, and you have to ignore the way Eddie snorts as he walks past with hands full of Miller Lite.
“You’re so sweet,” cringing at how fake your voice comes out but Devin doesn’t seem to notice as you both take your seats, knees barely touching between the space of the stools.
“Thanks for agreeing to drinks tonight, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Just didn’t know, w-with office etiquette a-and all,” stuttering, his nerves get the best of him. He tries to hide it behind a sip of his beer.
“No, I’m, I’m glad you did,”you lie, your eyes flicking to the door one more time before grabbing your drink. An awkward silence settles between the two of you as you press your lips to the rim to slurp at the top to prevent any spill over.
God, you already want this to be over.
The conversation does get easier after your first drink, the flirting a little less forced as your hand finds its way to squeeze his thigh when you laugh at something he says that’s only half funny. Choking on the foam from his beer from your sudden touch, he wipes his mouth bashful from his outburst. Eddie murmurs a “go easy on him tiger” when he gets you a refill, earning him your bratty tongue.
“So you transferred here last year from Portland, right Devin? What’s it like over there?” Resting your chin on your knuckles, you look up at him from under your lashes enjoying the way it makes his breath catch.
“It was- It was a lot different from here…”
Finally on your A game, you try not to pay attention when the front door opens behind your date. It’s to no avail when you catch his figure in your peripheral and you can’t fight it anymore. All the progress you’ve made going out the window when Steve makes his first reappearance since your arrival.
Toothpick replaced with what looked like Big Red chewing gum, his hazel eyes scan the crowd before landing on you. The smirk that you’d been trying to forget tugs at the corners of his lips, and any luck that Devin might have had with you tonight disappears like that.
The bouncer looks pointedly at the man beside you, sizing him up, smile stretching wider when he assesses his threat. Leaning against the wall, he crosses his arms across his chest so the sleeves of his shirt look like they are being pushed to their limits as the muscles in his biceps flex. Hips pushed out in a way that’s daring you to look below his waist, he throws you a wink with a snap of his gum.
“...So yeah, that’s the long and short , it,” Devin finishes with a proud smile and you just nod, not catching a single word he said.
Steve’s stare is relentless, and your body responds to it without you having to even meet his gaze. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, jaw clenching with every hard chew of his gum. Pushing himself off the wall, he starts a slow walk towards you. Big heavy steps bring him closer, every thud of his boots making your thighs clench, as you try desperately to stay concentrated.
Your date’s in the middle of another story that sounds like white noise, your lack of attention making him a babbling mess. He doesn’t notice the way Steve stops next to him first, giving him a once over from up close to make sure he wasn’t missing something from afar before coming up to you with the kind of smile that’s dripping with trouble.
“....So the logistics of it are kinda crazy when you think-“
“Just checking on my pretty new friend over here,” Steve cuts Devin off, not interested in anything but you. His large hand finds the small of your back, his palm almost big enough to cover the exposed skin between your skirt and top. It sends a shiver up your spine that the pad of his thumb soothes when it rubs circles over your sprouting goosebumps. “Having a good night, baby?”
The pet name falls so smoothly off his tongue that it takes Devin a minute to realize that it even left Steve’s mouth, a scowl souring his face when he sees the way your eyes glaze over looking up at the bouncer.
“Yeah, I’m having a real nice time Steve.” Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, he notices the subtle way you lean into his touch. Your body needy for more.
“You better be.” He winks, letting the blunt ends of his nails scratch along your back before adding salt to Devin’s wound, “And you know where to find me if that changes.”
There’s a knowing smirk that plays on the edges of his mouth, biting his lip he finally tears his eyes away from you to give a head nod to the date you’d forgotten about for the second time tonight. Steve tosses him a wink too, a gesture that makes Devin’s jaw clench. Steve opens his mouth to say something that was sure to piss him off more, but he’s cut off by the sound of Eddie’s rings slamming hard on the bar behind you.
“Dude! What the fuck are you doing inside? Do you know how many people have walked in without getting checked? It's PEAK hours!” The bartender's eyes are frantic, fingers running through his curls as he yells at his friend. “Quit flirting and go do your job. Also, is that a fucking kid man?”
Eddie points to the boy that the bouncer stopped earlier who was snooping around abandoned tables in search for leftovers he was definitely not of legal age for, Steve’s cheeks tint the color of your lipgloss when he looks at you with sheepish eyes. The confidence he was dripping with disappears into embarrassment while doing his best to ignore the smug look on your date’s face.
“Calm down man, it was three minutes! I’ll get rid of the fuckin’ kid. Again.” He rubs the back of his neck as he walks away, stalking towards the boy who looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Hey asshole! You must’ve grown eight years in twenty minutes for me to be seeing you here!”
The boy raises his hands up in surrender slowly backing away, giving Steve an opportunity to turn around to toss you one last smile and wiggle his fingers at Devin before focusing on the high schooler who is already halfway out the door. The kid's walk turns into a run when Steve cracks his knuckles for show, following him out with long strides, disappearing back outside and out of sight.
You’re left with awkward silence between you and your date as Eddie stomps away muttering under his breath. Devin clears his throat, twirling his beer, the glass against the wood making a sound that starts to grate on your nerves. He’s daring you to look at him. The huff he exhales afterwards begs you to look. Your mind races with ideas of how to get out of this and when you dare to finally take a peek, he’s looking forward, emptying the last of his bottle.
“I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette!” You blurt out, grabbing your bag and leaving no time for a response. Your sandals clack as you power walk to the door. To Steve.
The summer night is sticky on your face when you step out of the bar, the sound of a girl’s sniffled “You’re right Steve” directing your stare to the bouncer you were looking for. Sitting on the very stool you knocked him off of, his big boots sit on the lowest footrest with his knees spread wide. Inviting. His eyes connect with yours, widening a bit when you smirk at him while getting yourself comfortable on the brick wall on the opposite side of the door. Digging your cigarettes out of your purse, you notice the girl next to him has mascara running down her cheeks that she only makes worse when she wipes them with the back of her hand.
“You know Maryanne, it sounds like this isn’t the first time he’s done this to you. I think it’s time to kick him to the curb. You deserve better.” He speaks to her like they’ve been friends their whole lives and you have no idea how he’s learned so much about her in the few minutes he’s been outside. Crossing his arms as he leans back enough for the legs of the stool to pull up, he catches himself with his shoulders against the wall behind him.
“He sounds like a chump if you ask me,”you chime in, lighting your cigarette. Steve’s smile shines under the pink luminescent sign above him when he hears your voice. The wooden legs of his stool smacking loud against the cement when he pushes off the wall.
She’s startled by your sudden appearance, not noticing when you came out - too lost in her own world. She gives you a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she nods, tugging at her high pony and somehow making it higher. The sequined scrunchy in her hair catches the street light as she tries hyping herself up to return to whoever was making her cry inside.
“He is a chump, but most men are.” She sighs, her shoulders relaxing a little more as she calms down.
“You’ve got this honey, tell him to fuck off and go home with Lisa if that’s what he wants so bad,” Steve champions, patting her on the back, a new layer to Maryanne’s story being revealed. His eyes flick back to you as you take a drag, the mossy green going dark when he watches your cheeks hollow.
“Thanks for listening Steve, I’m gonna go back in now.” She wipes her nose one more time, before giving you a polite head nod.
“Have Eddie make you something sweet, and tell him it’s on me.” The bouncer winks, giving her the boost of confidence she needs before opening the door you just came out of. Monifah’s Touch It adds to the tension between Steve and you when it leaks out of the bar as she disappears inside. The bass thumps against the brick, leaving the song just muffled enough to be background noise when it closes behind her.
The air is heavier, thicker with something you both know is there. Playing hard to get, you don’t meet his gaze, despite feeling it over every curve and dip of your body. Inhaling another hit of nicotine, you lift your head up to exhale the smoke into the dark sky, extending your neck for him to see before you finally give in and chance a glance in his direction.
He looks far too handsome, smiling wide when you meet his eyes, all his perfectly white teeth baring themselves at you in a way that makes your legs shake.
“Missed me already baby?” His feet hit the sidewalk, his man spread somehow bigger this way as he scoots closer to the edge of the stool.
“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” You grin, successfully dodging the answer he already knows as your head hits the side of the building. Tilting your chin in his direction with your lip tucked between your teeth, you catch his narrowed glare.
“Nice try sweetheart, I used to watch Road House, religiously. I learned from the best. I’m just distracted,” the buttery smoothness of his voice returns, the last of his sentence coming out in a purr.
“Distracted?” You quirk a brow, not giving into him just yet.
“Yes, very much so and I regret to inform you that it’s all your fault too.” He sticks his bottom lip out at you in a pout, earning the giggle he’d been trying to get again since he first heard it, even if it's accompanied by your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your head.
“I’m on a date, Steve.” Even though you know it’s a weak comeback at this point, you still give it and he doesn’t miss a beat.
“Where? I don’t see him.”
Your cheeks heat up at his observation so you take another drag of your half smoked cigarette to try and hide the way he’s affecting you.
“I’m supposed to be quittin’, but you’re makin’ it look too good, pretty girl. Let me have a puff?” His question is an invitation, making the first move to call your bluff, to get you closer.
“Is that why you seem to have a cinnamon addiction?” you tease, not surprised when you kick off the wall accepting it with a smirk and an exaggerated sway of your hips.
He licks his lips while his eyes roam the length of your body unashamed, one large hand raking through his hair when you stop close enough to smell the topic of discussion on his breath.
“Could be addicted to worse,” he murmurs, not sure where to look having you between his legs like this.
“It’s a Newport, S‘that okay, Steve?” you ask him from underneath flirting lashes. His breath hitching before a sly smirk spreads across his pink lips.
“More than okay baby.” He leans closer, fingers wrapping around the plush curve of your hip to anchor you in place.
Tipping up on your toes, your hand comes down on his thigh making the muscle flex against your palm, your touch sending shocks through the rough denim while the other holds the gloss stained end up to his mouth.
Steve holds your stare when his lips wrap around where yours just were. His nails dig half crescent moons into your exposed skin as his cheeks hollow out. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs, your brows meeting in the middle when he tugs you even closer before tilting his head up. The thick expanse of his neck on full display as he blows out his drag, adam's apple bobbing in the light making the moles dance across his skin.
“The strawberry really sets it off.” He grins as his hand dares to slide down the top curve of your ass, making it his new home when you make no moves to get away from him.
“Thanks, it’s my favorite gloss.” You shrug, pretending to unphased by his teasing, but the mess in your panties would give you away if he could see.
“Maybe I could get a better taste,” his words are bold, but his free hand is bolder. Soft fingertips play with the top hem of your skirt, daring to dip under the fabric every once and awhile and he swears he hears you whimper.
“You want more?” Your voice comes out small, dripping in honey just for him. You know what he really wants, but he’s not gonna get it yet.
“God, if you’ll let me honey.” There’s a light squeeze on the dough of your ass, and it makes you flutter around nothing.
You lean in slowly, your hand moving further up his thigh watching the way his chest starts to rise and fall from it. Stretching the cotton of his shirt with every breath. The fingers that had been exploring the top of your skirt start a path up to the bottom of your top. A low hum coming from under his breath when the sweetness of your body lotion hits his nose.
His eyes shut when your faces get close enough that he feels like he can taste the strawberry that he wants so bad. He doesn’t notice when you pull back at the last second to replace your kiss with another puff until your cigarette shoves past his puckered lips.
When he opens them, he’s met with your giggles, a sound he wants on a loop. He pretends to glare, still taking the hit you were offering him, exhaling it through his nose like an angry bull. He opens his mouth to chastise you but the beeping of his digital pet interrupts his intimidating moment again.
“Gotta get that?” Your lips twitch while you try to contain your laugh, flicking the cigarette onto the street.
“Listen, my best friend got it for me. I thought it was incredibly stupid, and I definitely told her it was too.” The hand on your waist leaves to dig his Tamagotchi out of his front pocket. “But now I’m attached to the little guy.”
The key chain sized toy lights up in his hand, as he starts to feed it with a press of a button.
“Mine died yesterday,” you admit and the laugh you’d been fighting off echoes loudly when he looks up at you horrified.
“What? Do you have it with you now?”he questions as the small happy tune plays signaling that his pet is fully satisfied.
“She’s somewhere in my bag, don’t worry she was reborn this morning,” your words don’t reassure him considering they seem to need food every thirty minutes and you haven’t pulled it out once since he’s met you.
“Sounds like you want her to die again to me.” Steve’s very real concern about your Tamagotchi has you smirking.
“They die so easily, you’re telling me yours hasn’t died?”
Your jaw drops when he shakes his head ‘no’, a smugness taking over his handsome features.
“Steve, that’s like really hard to do.” You don’t know whether you should be impressed or roast him but when his hand grips at your ass one more time you decide it’s the first.
“Better give her to me for the night baby, I’ll keep her nice and healthy for my favorite girl.” Stuffing his back into his pocket, he holds his palm open for you in a vow to keep your digital pet alive and an excuse to see you later.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you obey his wishes. Digging to the bottom of your bag till you find your purple one. The screen already going off, and the muffled beeping that signaled the need for it to be fed finally becomes loud enough to hear.
“See! I told you. On the cusp of death already.”
You drop it in his hand, right as an older trucker comes barreling out of the bar reminding you where you’re at and that Devin is still waiting inside. Again.
“Fuck, I should go back in.” You sigh as your fingers play with the seam on the leg of his jeans.
“Go back in and tell that guy to get lost,” the bouncer almost whines, his grip on your hip tightening before he lets you go.
“Steve,” you huff but the smile on your face gives him hope.
“Just saying sweetheart, could be fun.” He shrugs, putting on an air of nonchalance while your Tamagotchi dangles from his thumb.
You both know who you really want to go home with tonight.
The bubble you and Steve are in pops as soon as you get back inside The sound of the distant cars on the freeway and Steve’s voice is replaced with Return of the Mack and the crowd that was at a simmer when you first got here is now at a full boil.
You have to get rid of Devin.
He’s right where you left him, hunched over and twirling his beer bottle on top of the bar. You notice the three empty shot glasses before you see Eddie dropping off another one while giving you the kind of eyes that say ‘Come take care of your date’ as he walks away. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards him going over all the ways you can let him down easy while your nerves drown out the little bit of guilt you had for ditching him.
“Heeeey,” your voice is high pitched, awkwardness dripping from its tone when you finally return to your stool next to him.
Crickets.
You freeze - he’s ignoring you. How can you get rid of him if he’s ignoring you? Your eyes shift around the bar nervously, offering an awkward tight lipped smile when anyone meets your stare. You search for Eddie again, hoping to silently ask for help but his back is to you, clearly putting the moves on a girl at the other end.
“Devin.”
You hope that saying his name will elicit the desired response but that dwindles quickly when he chugs the rest of his beer, continuing his charade and keeping his gaze forward before slamming the empty bottle down.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he grumbles, irritation laced in every word before he pushes off the stool still not meeting your eyes.
You wait till he’s out of earshot before you let out a groan, your long disappearance clearly pissed him off. Propping yourself up by your elbows on the sticky bar, you close your eyes, rubbing your temples while you try to think of the right way to go about this. Eddie’s knowing chuckle is the last thing you want to hear but that’s just how the night is going now.
“You pretty little scoundrel!” He slaps the spot in front of you forcing your eyes open, his smile only widening when you glare at him.
“He’s so pissed and now thanks to you,” gesturing towards the empty shot glasses Eddie gets rid of with quick hands, you avoid the real reason, “He’s gonna be trashed!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa sweetheart. I’m not the one who can’t keep their hands off Stevie boy. And on a date too? Tsk tsk tsk.” He crosses his arms with a shake of his head, “Now you broke poor Derek’s -“
“Devin.”
“Whatever - fish guy’s heart. Aren’t you in a little predicament hmm?” Eddie hums the last part, but you can see the excited glint in his eyes. He loves watching your escapades.
“Listen,” you can’t help the giggle that bubbles past your strawberry lips under his knowing gaze, “When you told me he was hot Eddie, you didn’t tell me he was that hot.”
Smirking, you enjoy watching the way his face contorts knowing that was a damn lie.
“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands in the air, giving you the reaction you were baiting him for, “It was the first thing I told you.”
You laugh loudly at his exasperation with your antics, almost forgetting about Devin entirely for the third time tonight.
“Have fun figuring out this little love triangle you’ve created, I need to get to the rest of the paying customers so I can get back to that hottie at the end of the bar.” He points to the girl he was talking to earlier who’s sipping a drink she looks surprised to even like.
“I bet you aren’t charging her for anything are you?” You narrow your eyes playfully, cackling when he rolls his waving you off as he walks away.
Sliding off the stool, you tug up your tube top, ready to give it to Devin straight, more than eager to get back outside again.
“I knew the guys in the office said you were easy, but I didn’t think you’d be spreading your legs for anything that walked on our date.” Devin’s voice comes as a surprise, but the tight grip on your arm pulling you to him is an even bigger one.
Searing rage fills every part of your body at the fact that he put his hands on you, palms flat on his chest, you use all your strength to shove him away. Shock paints his features, not expecting you to fight back so aggressively. All the drinks he’s had make him stumble back, losing his footing almost falling into the couple next to him.
“Well I’m sure as shit not spreading them for you!” you spit, looking him up and down with disgust before putting a finger in his face, “And your shirt? It’s fucking ugly.”
You give him one last once over before shaking your head and walking away. Heading back towards the entrance, you notice Steve inside again. A hard glare is set on his face, nostrils flaring as he zeros in on Devin behind you who’s still trying to regain his balance.
God, it’s the hottest he’s looked all night.
Steve’s hazel eyes meet yours and they instantly soften when you can’t help but smile as he opens the door for you.
“Thanks Stevie,” using Eddie’s nickname, you run your hands across his chest when you walk by, just to add salt to Devin’s wound.
The flush that paints his cheeks tells you how much he likes it.
“When I told you to ditch your date, I didn’t mean to fist fight him, honey,” he teases, following you outside, letting the chipped red door shut behind you and muffling the sounds of the bar again.
“He got mad about my little disappearance before I could let him down easy.” Turning around, you bite your bottom lip to try to hide your growing smile.
“Poor guy.” Steve grins before taking the two steps to close the gap, to crowd your space. Cinnamon fanning across your face, “Never stood a chance.”
It’s harder for you to breathe when he looks at you like he wants to kiss you, but before you can respond, the door flies open.A drunk Devin stumbling out with a glare breaking you two apart.
“Of course, of FUCKING course. Not even two seconds later? You really are a slut, huh?” Devin seethes, stumbling out onto the sidewalk.
“I’m really going to need you to watch your mouth champ. No need to call girls names. You’re a big boy.” Steve’s tone is condescending as he squares up, making sure you’re behind him.
“You think you’re so fucking cool,” Devin scoffs before hiccuping, “Careful with this one, she’s probably sucked your buddy’s dick inside too.”
“Yeah, that’s enough, asshole. Go home, before I have to beat some respect into that ugly skull of yours.” Steve cracks his knuckles again, but it doesn’t have the same effect as before, Devin only raising his eyebrows at the bouncer.
“Respect? That’s funny. The whore behind you hasn’t heard of it.”
Steve loses his cool and like a flash he’s on him. Pulling his fist back Steve moves just a little too slow and Devin clocks him right in the jaw. The sound of bone against bone echoes loudly into the night. Stumbling back, Steve cradles where an ugly bruise will start forming in the morning, rubbing it out. He cracks his neck before barreling towards Devin, taking him down to the ground like a football player.
In a flurry of fists and cuss words, Devin somehow gets Steve pinned. The alcohol and anger flowing through his system turns him into The Hulk. Your screams for them to stop fall on deaf ears while they continue to roll around on the ground. Panic sets in when you realize neither man is going to stop. Doing the only thing you know how to do in these situations, you get Eddie.
Frantic, you open the door, ignoring the fact that Third Eye Blind is playing at the exact worst time, you scream Eddie’s name loud enough to silence the bar.
“Eddie! It’s bad. Steve needs you!”
He looks up from a clearly flirtatious conversation with the girl from before, both of their eyes landing on you as you get your friends attention. He grumbles, grabbing her hands saying something to her that makes her nod bashfully before jumping over the bar top. Jogging out the front, he towers easily over the two men, neither one of you bothering to check the red heads I.D. that walks in after you.
“The first fucking night man!” Eddie yells at Steve, grabbing Devin by the back of his shirt pulling him off the bouncer with ease, but not before Steve gets one more cheap shot in.
He wrestles against Eddie’s grip for a second before finally giving up with a hiccup, hocking a loogie in Steve’s direction.
“You done?” The bartender's face is unamused, as he waits for Devin to nod. “I never wanna see you or your shitty ass style at my bar again. Beat it bozo before I give you a matching black eye to go with the one Steve gave you.”
Two against one is too much for Devin to take on, so he raises his hands up in surrender when Eddie lets him go. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he shoots you one last glare before turning on his heel. Flipping everyone off as he starts down the sidewalk. Steve returns the gesture, spitting at his retreating form.
“You good?” Eddie asks, extending his hand for his friend to take.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just hate that guy.” Steve mumbles, looking everywhere but at you while he straightens his shirt and dusts off his jeans with bloody knuckles.
“Your hand dude, I can’t have you bleeding all over people I.D’s. and I know Rick doesn’t have a first aid kit. At least I’ve never seen one.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, stress coming in the form of knitted brows.
“I’ve got one,” you mumble, finally finding your voice and the bartender claps, wiping his hands clean of the situation.
“There, go play nurse with lover boy and get out of my hair tonight. I’m like this close,” he pinches two fingers together to show “to scoring and you both have been fucking it up every chance you can get. I swear to god.”
Eddie waves you off as he makes his way back in, and you can feel the shift in energy between you and the bouncer you’ve been wanting all night.
Steve’s quiet the whole walk up the stairs to your apartment, fuming with anger and embarrassment, the confidence from before gone while the bruise on his jaw deepens and he cradles his bleeding knuckles.
“This is me,” you break the silence cringing, your voice amplified in the walls of the narrow hallway while you dig out your key.
“Thanks for this, angel,” his words come out in just above a whisper but at least it’s something.
The endearment has a smile creeping across your face and you finally dare to turn around to get a look at him after you hear the click of your lock. You press your back against your open door, it’s your turn to extend an invitation.
“Anytime Stevie.”
His face softens the minute he lays his eyes on you again, jealous of the way you bite your bottom lip sweetly, he wishes it was him.
You let Steve into your world one heavy boot at a time, locking the door behind you. Watching the way his dimmed eyes brighten, curiosity winning over any leftover irritation. The ghost of a smirk twitches at the corners of his lips while he walks the small space of your studio taking everything in. The neon sign outside your window is the only light that illuminates it, shadows dancing off trinkets on shelves and pictures on walls, he was getting a glimpse of you.
He stops in the middle of your room, right at the edge of your bed. The dark denim and leather that cover him are a stark contrast against your baby blue rug, but you think he looks like he belongs here. You watch the way he takes in your hastily made bed, licking his lips when he sees a pair of panties that didn’t quite make it in the laundry basket in the corner. The radio you’d forgotten to turn off plays a commercial, filling the space between you, and you aren’t prepared for when he puts his full attention back on you again after not having it for the past twenty minutes. Your body responds immediately to the playful glint in his eye.
“Cute place, for a cute girl.” He grins, running his good hand through his hair before he walks over to the window to take a look at your view.
“I bet you say that to all of em’,” you tease because it’s easier to do with his back to you. Making your way to the bathroom, nerves burst like butterflies in your stomach.
“You’re the only one baby.”
His response is quick as he turns around, the flirting you’d grown accustomed to coming back like a raging storm. He watches your hips while you walk the short distance with a heavy stare that covers every part of you. Leaning against the door frame with your curves on full display, something shifts behind his eyes. Flipping the lightswitch, white beams break apart the pink, highlighting even more of you for him to drink in.
“Come on handsome, let’s get you patched up.”
His cheeks flush at the new nickname and it's his turn to bite his lip in a shy smile for you.
It doesn’t take more than a few steps for his long legs, the wood creaking under his weight. Pressing your back to the frame, he stops in front of you with one foot over the threshold and the other still in your room. He takes up so much space. His biceps flex when he reaches for your hip, tugging you even closer, you can smell the menthol still lingering on his breath. On instinct your palm hits his chest, muscles dancing under heated skin as you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. Squeezing at your softness before he speaks, he lets his middle finger dip under the top of your skirt.
“I really meant it when I said thank you back there. Just need you to know that.” His finger dares to dip lower, rubbing circles that make your back arch, hips pushing forward on a search for his. The curve of your stomach touches the cool metal of his belt buckle and the heat of his body sets fire between your thighs.
“I know you did,” your voice is sweet for him, the tone you know he likes while your hand moves down the dip between his pecs, “Thank you for sticking up for me.”
You can feel the coarse hair that starts at the top of his belly button where your hand stops, and you swear you feel him twitch in his pants. A second one of his fingers finds its way under your skirt and another subtle tug gets you even closer. So close that all you’d have to do is stand on your tiptoes for your lips to touch.
“Anything for you, pretty girl,” he breathes, spice and tobacco taking over. His adam’s apple bobs when he catches the way you start staring at his lips, the gloss on your own shimmering in the new light.
“Anything?” Quirking your brow with a smirk, your innuendo makes him moan and his hold on you tighten.
“Absolutely.” Ducking his head lower so his nose brushes against the bridge of yours, he dares you to make the first move.
“In that case…” Pressing your toes down to push yourself up, the playful glint in your eye goes unnoticed by him.
Your lips are a ghost, his top one barely brushing against your bottom, it's enough for him to taste the strawberry he wanted more of outside but not enough to satisfy. His eyes flutter closed waiting to feel their full plushness but your words bring him back to reality.
“Sit on the toilet for me.”
The specks of emerald shine again when his eyes snap open to see you flat on your feet with a grin. Groaning loudly with fake irritation, he lets go of you in exasperated defeat, letting his head fall back and hit the wood of the frame.
“What? We came up here for my first aid kit, didn't we?” You giggle after you say it, you don’t mean it.
“Sure, sure, yeah, yeah.” Nodding, he runs a hand through his hair while he looks around your bathroom.
It smells like your coconut body wash and it drives him crazy. He takes an unexpected step forward, his hand finding its way back to your hip to push you against the wall. One heavy boot between your wedged sandals, getting just close enough to kiss you. Is he going to?
It's your eyes that flutter closed this time, your fingers wrapping themselves around his belt loops again. He’s tentative with his injured hand when he uses it to cradle your jaw. His palm is soft as it covers half your neck, his thumb pushing up against your chin to tilt your face up to his. He runs the tip of his nose along your cheek and you feel your knees start to get weak, a whimper begging to fall from your parted lips.
“If that’s the only thing we’re here to do then we should get to it then, huh?”
Just as quick as he invades your space, he leaves it. The porcelain of your toilet seat cover clunks loudly when he drops himself on it. Spread out like on the stool outside, he takes over the room, leaving you to catch your breath with a smug grin.
It’s a staring contest with narrowed eyes after that, but the twitch of your lips tells him you aren’t actually mad. He snorts when you clear your throat to regain your composure, purposely ignoring the obvious when you bend over to open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the bright red zip up bag.
“We need to wash your knuckles first, then I’ll put some ointment on them and wrap it up for you. We’ll keep it that way for the night and we can check on it in the morning.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them and he catches the slip up instantly.
“Oh? You need to keep me overnight for observations?”
You bite your lip to try and hide your smile, grabbing a washcloth running it under hot water instead of looking at him.
“You know what I meant, I’ll come check on it tomorrow when you get to work.” You don’t even believe your lie, and the toothy smile you catch from the corner of your eye tells you he doesn’t either.
“But nurse, I don’t know. I think I should stay, I got hit in the face too. Concussions you know? I really shouldn’t be alone tonight.” He lays it on thick, eating up the way he sees you loving it spreading across your face when you ring out the soapy rag.
You don’t try to hide it when you finally face him, or when you settle between his legs for the second time tonight. The new position has him eye level with your chest, easier access to his lips. You hold your palm out for him, your hand disappearing completely when he drapes his wounded one over it.
“Concussion, huh? Are you feeling light headed Steve?” You play along giving your best impression of a medical professional.
He hisses when you press the damp cloth to his knuckles, sucking in air between his teeth when you start to clean. The soothing circles the pad of your thumb rubs on the side of his hand is almost enough to distract him from it.
“Yeah, but that started before I got hit.”
You finally dare to meet his gaze, a flattered smile spreading wide across your face that you try to play down with a roll of your eyes.
“Hmmm,” you hum to yourself, deciding not to give in just yet as you switch from the rag to the ointment, getting the bandaging and medical tape out.
“I mean, you’re the professional honey. You tell me.” You feel his good hand tug at the bottom of your skirt while you smear the neosporin on his knuckles with a q-tip, his long fingers flexing at the cooling effect.
“It started before you got hit?” You question with a fake pensive expression, gently taking his palm in your hand to start the wrapping process.
“Yeah, you see, this girl hit me with a door earlier. Knocked me clean off my stool.” He makes the motion of him falling with a swipe of his hand, “ and I haven’t been the same since if I’m being completely honest.”
It takes everything inside you to not give him the satisfaction of a laugh, the way you met coming back to the forefront of your mind.
“Some would argue putting your stool in front of the door like that is kinda stupid, but that's just my professional opinion.” Your shrug earns a loud laugh from him and you relish in it, promising yourself you’ll get him to do it again.
“All done.” You let go of his hand and he already misses you holding it, but the proud look on your face is a good distraction while you admire your handy work.
He holds it up, and you still can’t get over just how big they are. Curling his fingers in before extending them, he only winces slightly from the pain. The pressure of the bandage already helping. He jumps slightly when the backs of your fingers smooth over the fresh bruise forming on his jaw, the stubble tickling your skin. His eyes watch yours as they rake over the damage, the softness of your touch almost enough to make his eyelids heavy when you stroke the sore spot again.
“What do you think, huh?” His question comes out quiet, the playful edge gone while both his hands find the back of your legs. Rough fingertips run up your calves, catching the bottom of your skirt as they go, “Are you gonna keep me baby?”
A shiver runs up your spine when he hits the back of your thighs and you feel yourself getting pulled closer. He drags his nose up the bare skin of your sternum while his hands grab doughy handfuls just below the curve of your ass. The sound of your moan when his fingers get high enough to just barely graze the soaked material between your weakening legs sends him into overdrive. Growling, he nips at the tops of one of your breasts.
“Come on, tell me, what’s it gonna be?” Despite trying to sound confident, there’s a desperation in the way he asks. He knows you want it but he needs you to say it.
It’s when his fingers slip under the lace trim of your panties that you finally give in with a gentle grab of his chin. His eyes are black when they meet yours, the ends of his nails digging into soft skin.
“Yeah, I’m gonna keep you.” You give into an urge you’ve had since you laid eyes on him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you spread yourself open for his hands to wander.
He doesn’t hold back anymore and you’re reminded of just how tall he actually is when he stands up. His actions are quick and with purpose, the strength you knew was behind those muscles showing itself when he lifts you onto the edge of the sink with your skirt rucked up to your hips. He man handles you in a way no one ever has and you feel it light a fire in your gut. Impatient for his next move, you grab the collar of his shirt while his hands spread wide over the tops of your thighs, your lips finally getting to do what they’ve wanted all night.
It’s soft at first, both of you moving slow as you figure out what the other likes, careful not to hurt his jaw. One of his hands finds its way back to your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing the length of the bone while his tongue begs you to open up. He traces the top of your lip, shuddering at the taste of the strawberry and it makes him wonder if your skin tastes like the coconut he smells.
You give him the access he wants, your tongues meeting in the middle, making the fire that had been begging to consume you pour out from your fingertips that bury themselves into the roots at the nape of his neck. You need more. The hard length that has been fighting against the denim of his jeans presses hard into where you want his attention, your legs wrap around him - silently begging him to do it again.
One arm snakes around your lower back, holding you flush against his chest, the grind of his hips giving you the friction that makes you keen. A moan and a breathless “fuck” is what breaks your lips apart when his zipper catches your swollen clit with just the right amount of pressure. He uses his new found freedom to kiss down the length of your jaw, humming against your heated skin when you tilt your head to give him better access to all the sensitive places he can’t wait to discover. He sucks the soft spot behind your ear when you meet the next roll of his hips, your slides falling loudly off your feet to the tile floor.
“Steve,” his name comes out in a high pitch whine when he starts sucking a bruise in a place you know you’ll have to try and cover up for the next few days. He was marking you, and you could care less. You hold him there, encouraging more as his teeth graze your pulse point, a “baby” slipping past his lips when he finally pulls away.
He meets your eyes with flushed cheeks and messy hair and the kind of hunger that makes you melt.
“Let me take you to bed, let me take care of you,” he’s panting, his hold on you tightening so you can feel just how bad he needs this. A smirk spreads across his swollen lips when your hips shift in search for more, giving him the answer he needs along with the nod of your head.
Just as easy as he lifted you on the sink, he carries you to the bed, big hands cradling thick thighs before he lays you on your back. Your giggle fills the space in between heavy pants before TLC’s Creep starts playing over the speakers of the radio. His hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and you watch an expanse of new freckles and moles get revealed to you. You want to kiss them all. They dot the spots next to the dark hair over his belly button while the thick thatch of chest hair you’d only gotten a glimpse of glistens with beads of sweat in the glow of the Foxy Lounge light.
His jeans hang low enough for you to get a glimpse of the veins protruding from the V shape that leads to the part of him that’s sure to make you forget your own name. His grin is cocky when he recognizes the expression on your face. Grabbing your ankle, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. The bottom of your foot resting on the soft hair of his chest while long fingers hold you in place. He keeps his eyes trained on yours while he starts to trail wet kisses down the inside of your leg. The stubble covering his jaw scratching along his path in the best way. He stops when he gets to the soft skin of your knee, nipping playfully, he smirks at the squeal it earns him before he drops your leg in favor of curling his fingers under the top of your skirt.
You lift your hips for him without him having to ask, and the flash of his teeth is almost enough to blind you. He’s slick with his movements, taking your panties too. You hear his breath catch in his throat when he sees the effects all his teasing has on you. His fingers grip at your thighs before pulling your sticky skin apart with a lick of his lips.
“Look at you baby, all this for me?” The last part of his question comes out in a groan when he swipes the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves, kicking up in his jeans when your legs shake in response. “So sensitive too. Let me make her feel good, yeah?”
He swipes his thumb against your clit again making your eyes shut tight and your hips buck.
“I need to hear you say it.” He keeps rubbing circles, applying just enough pressure for you to forget how to speak, “Come on, be a good girl for me.”
His other hand pulls down your tube top, breasts spilling out in the blush light for his eyes to devour. He groans at the sight, his other hand coming up to cup the soft flesh feeling the way your nipples pebble against the warmth of his palm.
“Steeeeve, please.”
You’re whining for him and it makes his brows pinch together, feeling drunk off you.
“God angel, you’re fuckin’ beautiful you know that?” He emphasizes his question with his hands, giving your sides a squeeze while his eyes roam every dip and curve of your body. “Turn around for me? I wanna see all of you.”
The look on his face makes you decide that you’ll never deny him anything he asks, giving him a nod, you run your hands up his arms, nails dragging across the light hair before you push yourself up to get on all fours.
You feel completely exposed to him like this, all the secret places of your body on full display. He’s quiet for a minute and it’s almost enough for your nerves to get the best of you until you feel his palm find the apple of your ass. Fingers digging into doughy flesh, a groan loud enough to drown out the music erupts deep from his chest.
“Baby, baby, babyyy,” he emphasizes the last endearment with another handful before pulling your cheeks apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt, “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”
Your hips wiggle at his words, your walls fluttering around nothing while the cool air from the overhead fan hits your heat, sending goosebumps dancing across your supple flesh. A dark chuckle leaves him when he sees how much power his words have over you. His knees hit the side of the mattress, one hand hooking around your hip while the other runs down the dip of your spine giving you a light push when he hits your shoulder blades until you're bent over for him.
“She likes when I talk to her, huh?” his voice is low, mesmerized when you start dripping on the bed for him and he’s barely touched you, “She likes when I call her pretty doesn’t she?”
The moan that leaves your mouth is pathetic and he wishes he could record it.
“Playing hard to get all night, but look at you.” His good hand comes down hard enough on your ass for the fat to jiggle and you to fist handfuls of your comforter because of it, “Making such a filthy mess and I haven’t even put my mouth on you yet.”
His grip is rough when he tugs your hips, the outline of his dick pressing into you, the denim scratching against your clit in a way that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head.
“Tell me how much you want my mouth baby, tell me how much you want me to make you cum.” He grinds against you again, only this time making sure to apply the kind of pressure that makes your back arch.
“Fuck - Steve, please I want it. I’ve wanted it all night. I’ve wanted it all night,” you're babbling as he circles his hips, fingers kneading your soft skin.
Satisfied with your answer he mumbles a “so good for me” as he pulls away he gives you another light slap to your ass - signaling for you to scoot up, your mattress dipping behind you when he gets on his knees.
Big hands spread you apart, your forehead hits the comforter when you feel the heat of his breath against your slick folds. Your walls flutter, begging for his attention when his tongue runs a long stripe up your slit. He hums at the taste before he does it again, this time making sure to circle your clit before lapping up everything you were drenching him with like he was thirsty for it.
“Oh my god,” you huff into your blankets, toes curling when he starts an assault against your bundle of nerves, the pointed tip of his nose pressing deeper into your entrance as he gets lost in the sounds he’s pulling from you.
His fingers stretch across the tiger stripes on your butt cheeks, pulling you even further apart to give him better access. The coil inside you already threatening to snap when he sucks hard on your clit. He lets it go with a loud pop, smirking to himself at the way he has your body shaking from overstimulation already.
“Taste so fuckin’ good. Strawberries, just like your lips.” He groans, inhaling your scent like a man starved, his good hand coming down on your cheek again only this time a little harder pulling out another broken moan from you.
“Can I taste all of you pretty girl?”
There’s zero hesitation when you say ‘yes’, in fact it’s a little desperate. He could have whatever he wanted from you now. Not even sure what he means, your brain’s too fuzzy with lust to comprehend anything until you feel the tip of his tongue circle a place you’d never let anyone else go before.
“Holy shit - Steve.” The new sensation sends another wave arousal to your dripping core, a needy whine following it when he does it again.
“This okay?” He kisses the curve underneath the apple of your cheek, the softness of his voice comforting you while he checks in.
“God, it’s, it’s -“ He gives you another kitten lick and it makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, “It’s more than okay - Jesus Christ.”
Too lost in the feeling of him testing the tightness of you with his tongue, you aren’t expecting his thick finger to start circling the entrance he’d been neglecting, the one you need him to fill the most. Your silk walls welcome the intrusion with ease, the stretch only stinging a little when he pushes to the last knuckle while his tongue starts getting a little more bold. Your back arches when he groans against you, curling his finger to hit the spot only you’d ever been able to find with ease. He adds a second digit when you start bucking against his face, the new addition almost makes you run away. He tsks at you from buried between your butt cheeks, one large hand locking you in place when he starts feeling you get close.
“Give it to me,” he demands, coming up for air. Fingertips relentless against the spot that has you squelching loudly.
His mouth returns to the sensitive part of you, tongue circling your tightness in a way that has you finally snapping. Your walls constrict, wrapping around his fingers while your vision goes white. Your body freezes, the orgasm overwhelming your muscles with a violent shake, his name falling from your lips like it’s the only word you know. You feel him grin against you, the movements of his fingers only slowing down but never stopping, milking every last drop you give him.
“So good, so pretty when you cum baby,” he mumbles praises, his lips kissing anywhere they can reach while your body comes down from its first high.
You feel his weight leave the mattress, hear the metal of his belt buckle clinking followed by the low thump of his jeans hitting the floor. You find enough strength to look over your shoulder and it’s enough to make you whimper. Steve’s big. Dark hair at the base, it’s thick and curved, the pretty pink tip leaking just for you. The long vein that runs up the side pulses when he gives it a couple of tugs before his knees hit the mattress again.
His hands spread over your hips pulling you closer before he starts trailing kisses up your back, the silver of his chain making you shiver as it runs up your spine till his lips stop right at your ear.
“You ready for me?”
Your eyes meet his and they’re pitch black, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you know yours looks the same when you give him a nod but you know that’s not going to be enough for him.
“Come on, you know what I need,” his tone is mocking as he grabs his cock at the base, swiping his head through your folds, smirking at the way you try to suck him in, your body greedy for him.
“Please, please, please, please.”
All your self respect goes out the window when he pushes the tip in and you can’t stop repeating yourself. The stretch is already bigger than his two fingers and he wasn’t even half way in yet and for a brief moment you wonder if he’ll even fit.
“Fuck - baby.”
He moans as he pushes further, sheathing himself half way and he feels the way it makes your legs shake. His hand sneaks around your waist to find your clit, slippery fingers rubbing circles to get you to open up more as he rolls his hips one more time bottoming out. He groans so loud you’re sure anyone who might be smoking outside of the bar can hear him.
“Holy shiiiit, I’ve never had pussy like this.” He stills, adjusting to how tight you feel, and it’s his turn to babble as you constrict around him making him twitch - dangerously close to cumming already.
“You feel so good Stevie,” you whine as you push back against him, taking his length even deeper, feeling every curve and ridge of him against your walls.
He pulls out half way before slamming back in and it makes him curse under his breath before he does it again, only harder.
“God, fuck- this is all mine now, yeah?” he mutters, an angry edge to his words when he thinks about Devin getting to do this.
“Mmhmm,” your answer is automatic, no thoughts behind your eyes while his cock fills you in the way you fantasize about when you touch yourself.
“That’s right baby, it’s mine. You’re mine.”
His thrusts get aggressive as he gets closer to his release, your slick making it easy for him to slide almost completely out before pushing back in. The rough hair covering his pelvis rubbing your clit at the same time his tip reaches the same spot his fingers pulled your first orgasm from.
“Shit, Steve, right there.” Your jaw goes slack, eyes closing tight when he hits it again, your words spurring him on while he tries to re-grip his hold on your sweat-kissed skin.
“Yeah? you want more?” He makes sure to put all his attention where you want, slowing his hips just enough to hit it even harder. “I’ll give you more.”
Steve tilts his head to the side watching how you wrap around him, and the way he barely has to push back in, your greedy walls doing almost all the work when he finds the perfect pace that has you twisting the sheets.
He huffs out a cocky laugh and it makes you tighten in response, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.”Yeah, I know baby. I know. You gonna cum again for me?”
“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out with a nod but it’s not enough for him, he needs you loud enough for Devin to hear from across town.
The sound of skin slapping against skin drowns out the music, keeping his stamina up despite the twitch of his cock, he bends over, somehow getting deeper, the cool metal of his chain dragging across your back while one hand snakes under your waist. His fingers are unrelenting when they find their way to your puffy clit again, applying just enough pressure to get your legs to shake for him.
“I’m gonna ask again, are you gonna cum for me?” He keeps his voice even, but he knows he’s not gonna last much longer, especially not when your cheek hits the mattress and you meet his eyes looking like that.
“Yeah, god, yeah Steveee! Please, please, please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for but it makes Steve’s resolve break.
The moan he lets out is loud enough to echo off your wall, warmth flooding your insides as he cums hard enough to collapse against your back. It’s enough to send you over the edge for the second time. Your walls fluttering enough to make his nails dig crescent moons into your hips with a low “fuck” escaping him as you milk him for more with the sweetest chant of his name he’s ever heard.
“That’s it baby.” He coos lips placing sloppy kisses along the your shoulder blades when you collapse against the mattress, your bodies tangled in a way you don’t have the energy to leave quite yet.
The radio cuts out leaving just the sound of the two of you trying to catch your breath, you can faintly hear ‘Pony’ playing from the bar below but the sound of a car driving past quickly snuffs it out. You feel his nose nudge against your ear, a slow lazy smile creeping across your face when his lips brush your temple.
“I don’t think you have a concussion, but you better stay the night just in case.”
His laugh vibrates against your back, a toothy grin pressed to your skin.
“It’s always better to be safe than sorry,” he agrees. The response you somehow managed to conjure up gets lost on your tongue when both your long forgotten Tamagotchi’s go off in his abandoned pants in a matching tune you’d never heard before.
“Our babies need daddy, honey,” he groans, slowly lifting himself up on his elbows.
You roll your eyes with a snort as he trails kisses down your back only wincing slightly when he pulls himself out. Folding your arms under your head, you still can’t bring yourself to move, but the view of him naked and still semi hard while he holds the two digital pets in his hand with a confused expression isn’t one you really can turn away from.
“What?” Your curiosity is piqued when his eyes grow big.
“No fuckin’ way,” he mumbles more to himself than you, “I didn’t even know they could do this.”
“What??” The irritation is clear in your voice, the feeling of being left out turning you into a brat.
“Umm, I think they had babies… yep. Marty definitely got her pregnant.” The smile on his face gives away just how excited he actually is and you hate to admit that it’s contagious.
“Well we’re gonna have to figure out a child support plan I’m afraid. Daisy’s a free woman Steve.” The serious delivery makes him do a double take before he narrows his eyes.
“Child support? No, we're raising these kids together. So I’m gonna need you to care a little bit about keeping her alive. It's not just you here honey.” He tosses you the toy before jumping back on the bed pulling your body into his chest with ease, “I’m afraid you’re never getting rid of me.”
and also even the "former members" that are men are so fucking annoying and I find it so hard to feel bad for them because their wives were abused and controlled and this guy really goes "my limit was when he said no guns" like.... you're just a man it's just what you do ig
omg YES i watched this and was when he said the gun thing i was like that’s what tipped you over the edge buddy???? not all the blatant abuse towards woman and girls???? god the whole thing made me so angry i had to take several breaks trying to finish it
summary: draco finally makes his best friend his girlfriend and is taken aback by her very public declaration of the new relationship.
warnings: literally pure 'you need to go to the dentist' tooth-rotting level fluff, kissing.
word count: 0.8k
a/n: i have finally returned to tumblr and not to finish my love languages series (which i will i promise) but to give y'all this draco blurb, (i don't overly know what's going on either). i missed you, i luv you, enjoy my angels <3
masterlist
The entirety of Slytherin house knew that Draco Malfoy was in love with Y/N Y/L/N, best friends didn’t battle the constant urge to pull the other into their lap or place a gentle kiss on the crown of their head and they certainly didn’t give in to that urge daily. But what came as a shock to those that inhabited the icy collegiate dungeons was that Y/N was just as enamoured with Malfoy as he was with her. Which is why when Decembers frost had just began to kiss the grounds of Hogwarts and Y/N had strutted into the common room just to melt into Draco’s arms and plant a kiss that seemed a little too private to be had in public on Draco’s awaiting lips, the room fell silent. The silence was loud and evident and no one was quite sure if it was because what they had all predicted to happen was finally happening or if it was because Draco Malfoy had, up until this point, been a very private person when it came to the realm of relationships. He had dated in the past, his previous romantic endeavors had never seemed to hold longevity or all too much interest on his part, but it was completely uncharacteristic of Draco to kiss a girl in public. However, as the thought sat in one's head for a moment it made complete sense, he would throw away all previous guidelines in a relationship for Y/N.
Draco himself was just as taken aback by his girlfriends act but as the word girlfriend crossed his mind whilst looking at his best friend, her newfound need to show everyone that she was his was very welcomed and the silent prayer that she would continue to do so played on a reel in the back of his head like a movie theatre in a small town that screens the same film over and over again.
“Mornin’ Dray.” She mumbled into his chest after she selfishly pried herself away from his lips. But Draco was still too entranced by her to even speak, his gaze frantically scanning her as if he needed to memorize every detail of her right then in that very moment, his hands searching for something to hold on to so that he could ground himself and eventually falling on either side of her face, his breath trying to find its way back to his lungs but acting like his chest was a forgein place for it to visit. He wanted to say something, anything, a simple ‘Hi’ would suffice, but he had never felt so in love with her as he did right now and all he could command his body to do was kiss her again.
She giggled up at him, the little laughs fell from her mouth like bubbles, light and airy, infesting the entire room. Just when Draco was beginning to regain his bearings she grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards the Great Hall, her fingers delicately weaving themselves between his. He never knew cold hands clasped together could create such a blaze, but the flames were consuming his body, crawling up his frame to kiss his cheeks, a boisterous shade of rose tickling his face, his neck, his chest. When he finally lifted his eyes from the way her thumb was running over his knuckle, vision blurred by black nail polish and silver bands, he saw that everyone was staring at them. Some glaring at him with envy, others watching the way she leaned into him with longing eyes; the whispers that flooded the hall upon their arrival held mixed reviews, half of the student body thought it was about time they got together while the other half let their hatred for the relationship spill out like molten lava. Draco grinned, a full-blown, boyish, toothy grin, he ran his tongue across his teeth, relishing in the chaos he had created.
His confidence had finally decided to make its appearance, causing him to release the hand that she had been caressing to throw it around her shoulders. Pressing a hard kiss to the side of her head he felt one of her hands find its way back to his while the other lay gently on his back. Before his lips left her hair he made a point to stare at the crowd of onlookers in an attempt to make it known that he had done what seemed impossible to him and made the girl he had grown up loving, love him back, but before he could even process the thought she was pulling him down by his collar to reunite their lips, her fingers gripping his shirt like a vice, her vice, his vice. He knew she could feel the smirk that was devouring his face and he was certain that everyone could see it but all he was currently concerned with was how good it felt to be wanted, to be shown off, to be needed to this extent, well that and the fact that Y/N Y/L/N was going to be the death of him, a death he would welcome with open arms.
a collection of songs to fall in love with draco to
quiet confessions under silk sheets, cold hands brushing, desperate embraces, a promise of forever, calming one another fears, chapped lip kisses, close proximity, a constant need to touch, calloused hands over soft skin, secret meetings in dark hallways, to want and to be wanted.
Summary: the thing about stubborn feelings is that they love to resurface even after years apart. and after dancing around his feelings for you in school, fred is determined to make his move.
Warnings: brief mentions of the war but that’s it!
A/N: first installment of my 1d collection! so excited to share this with you guys (and to get out of my writing slump lmao)
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“So you’re really doing this, huh?” Y/N said, her hands going to straighten out Fred’s school robes.
From the moment she had stepped on to the Hogwarts Express as a nervous first year up until then, the redhead had towered over her. Their height difference had never really been a problem before, in fact it was much more convenient because Fred loved to sling his arm over her shoulders and pull her close to him.
Y/N loved craning her neck to grin up at him and playfully shove him away most of the time. It took everything in her at that moment though not to tilt her head up and look him in the eyes. She knew the moment she did, she would blurt out all the things she felt for him in one jumbled up mess.
“Don’t get all sentimental on me now, L/N,” Fred replied, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re tough enough to survive Hogwarts without Georgie and I for a few months. Then you’ll be free of this place and we’ll get to wreak havoc on Diagon Alley instead.”
“And who says I’d want to work for your sorry arse when I get out of here?”
