Stood Up (s.h. x reader)
steve harrington x fem!reader
SUMMARY: you get stood up and Steve is the only one that can pick you up, which sucks because you were trying to get over him.
CONTENT: getting stood up (duh), reader wears dress + heels, insecurity (of self worth), me trying to be clever with hidden metaphors, crying, unexplained coincidence -> one bed trope, sudden confession, kissing, maaybbe slightly ooc Steve? idk
WORD COUNT: 4k
A/N: yes i wrote this while i was procrastinating writing an essay for school. yes this is much more important than my education. i had a lot of fun writing this lol :p
ミ★
It was cold. Everything was cold. The night was cold and the wind made it colder so you were cold and the way that Matthew Brown just stood you up was the coldest thing of all.
You exhaled harshly again, your breath coming out foggy, as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Your feet stung because the shoes you wore were too tight and God, it was cold.
Matthew Brown was not coming. You realized that when he was an hour late. That was thirty minutes ago. And there was a phone booth across the street, so you could call someone to come pick you up, but you were still standing on the wrong side, against the wall of Enzo's.
You sighed again. Your breath felt warm against your face.
You pretended like you were deciding who you could call to pick you up. That's why you were still standing there. Your mom was an obvious no. It was 10 by now, so she was definitely asleep, and either way, you said you were going to a friend's house. If she found out you lied to go on a date, she'd be furious.
You couldn't call any your friends that could drive. They had dropped you off, because they were so excited that you finally got a date that they demanded to help you get ready and take you there. You would rather die than tell them it was all for nothing because you got stood up.
God, why didn't you just drive yourself?
And why would you plan the date across town from your house?
You tapped your uncomfortable shoe on the sidewalk. There was one other person you could think of. Someone who had a chance of coming, because you were close enough, and who wouldn't be as embarrassing to admit you got stood up to.
You let out one more foggy huff, then walked across the empty street to the phone booth. The dim light glared down on you as you dialed, the soft ringing of the phone disturbing the dead quiet around you. You shifted you weight from one foot to the other, either because you were trying to relieve your aching feet just a little, or because you were anxious.
It took eight rings for him to pick up, right when you were about to give up and hang up the phone before it did it for you.
"Steve...?"
"...Hello?" His voice was groggy and annoyed.
You were silent for a second, regretting calling. You squeezed your eyes shut.
"Sorry," was all you could manage to say. You leaned your forehead against the glass wall of the phone booth.
You could hear him sigh softly.
"Who..?" He trailed off, like he had an idea of who it was, but needed to confirm.
"Y/N."
"Is everything okay?" The shift in his voice was astonishing, concern immediately replacing his annoyance.
"Yeah, yeah," you rushed to reassure him, starting to feel guilty. "I, um..." you sighed for the umpteenth time that night, "I need- no, um, can you come pick me up?"
"Why? Is everything okay?" he asked again. Clearly he was tired.
"Yes, I'm fine." You didn't explain. You couldn't, not over the phone.
"Where are you?"
"...Outside Enzo's." You cringed. Hopefully he was still too tired to piece your situation together. From the brief silence, you were sure he had anyway.
"I'll be there in fifteen." The phone clicked off. You sighed and hung it back up, still leaning against the cold glass, stinging your forehead.
-
You stayed inside the phone booth until he arrived, because it was at least slightly warm. Warmer than outside. When you heard tires grumble across the asphalt, the glass had fogged from your breath and you had to wipe it away to see Steve's wonderful maroon beamer slowing to a stop.
You hurried out of the phone booth and into his car, the sudden cold biting your face just briefly before you were enveloped by the heater. Steve was in a light gray t-shirt and long pajama pants with ducks on them. You smiled.
"Those are cute," you teased, looking back to the windshield.
He huffed. His hair was messy.
It was silent for a minute, and your embarrassment started to be forgotten. He wasn't going to ask about anything, thank God.
"So... who was supposed to take you to Enzo's?"
Nevermind, then.
You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you turned to look out the passenger window. You cleared your throat. He was picking you up at 10 at night, so you at least owed it to him to tell him what happened.
"Uhm, Matthew," you muttered.
"Brown?" He seemed shocked, and it just made you all the more embarrassed. You felt the need to defend yourself, but you weren't exactly sure what you were supposed to be defensive about, so you stayed quiet.
"Sorry, I just- why would you accept a date from that guy?"
You looked back to him. He glanced at you with his brows knit and his mouth slightly open.
"I-" You stopped. You couldn't tell him that you were so desperate for any guy to ask you out that you jumped at any opportunity you could get, regardless if it was Matthew Brown. "I don't know."
He glanced to you again, obviously not satisfied with that answer. You looked back out the window.
"Just, haven't you heard all those stories? He's a known douchebag, and you're way out of his league in general-"
"Okay! I messed up, I'm stupid, I get it. I've sat with that for about an hour now." You didn't mean to snap, but wow, Steve knew how to rub it in your face.
Suddenly, he pulled over onto the shoulder, the wheels rumbling under the dirt. You looked over to him again, confused, a little concerned.
"An hour?" he said the second he put his car in park. "You were out there for an hour?"
You took a deep breath. No point in lying now, just put all your embarrassment out there so he can't keep digging it out.
"Two hours. By the time you got there." He was about to respond, probably just with another "two hours?!" but you continued before he could.
"My friends dropped me off, because they were so excited I finally got a date, so I was too embarrassed to call them to pick me up, and my mom thinks I'm staying at one of those friend's houses, and so I had to call you, but if I knew you were going to rub my pathetic-ness in my face, I would've just walked home in these stupid, uncomfortable, ugly heels-" You stopped to rip off your shoes, struggling with the buckle of the strap. Steve was silent, watching you in your frustration.
Once you finally got the shoes off, you slumped back into your seat.
"Sorry."
You looked to him with a huff.
"It's fine."
All of your deserved anger at being stood up was coming to you all at once, and you leaned forward again, throwing your face into your hands. Then, you felt your nose tingle and you bit your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. Finally talking about it really made you realize just how stupid you were.
"...Do you want me to take you home?" Now he was all hesitant and sensitive.
And now you realized you never even had a plan for after the date in the first place. You were never going to go home, because you were "staying at a friend's house," but you had never discussed staying at anyone's house afterwards either. God, you were such an idiot, never thinking things through in any aspect.
You didn't think about what a bad idea it would be to go on a date with Matthew Brown. You didn't think about how those shoes were uncomfortable and how you regretted wearing them every single time. You didn't think about how your date was scheduled at 8:30, and it was September, so of course it would be cold, and so you wore the thinnest sweater you owned. You didn't think about where the hell you would go after the date. You didn't think of anything, and now you were crying in Steve's stupid beamer, because you didn't think about how you were most definitely going to cry at some point, and how the last person you would want to cry in front of would be Steve.
At the sound of your sob, his voice became panicky.
"Woah, hey, I don't have to take you home I was just asking-"
"I'm not crying-" you hiccuped, "because of that, Steve!" Your voice was choked and stuffy, and you brought your head up to wipe your face.
"I'm crying because I just got stood up and I'm an idiot!" you sobbed again, giving up on wiping away your tears because they wouldn't stop, and you put your head back into your already wet hands.
"You- Y/N, you're not an idiot-"
"I am. I didn't think tonight through at all just because I'm so stupidly desperate for a guy to like me," you groaned into your hands, aware too late of what you admitted to Steve, but you couldn't be bothered to try and take it back.
He was silent for a while. Enough time for you to stop crying and use your thin sweater to finally dry your face, and you sniffled, looking out of the passenger window once again, wishing he would just start the car and drive away and maybe leave you on the side of the road.
You heard Steve inhale, deep and quick, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.
"I-" He was staring straight out of the windshield into the dark stretch of road and trees. He seemed stiff, sitting straight, eyes focused on nothing in particular. He sighed and slouched down again.
"I... can take you to my house."
You turned to him, concerned.
"I have a huge guest room," he clarified, although he didn't have to clarify at all.
You stared at him for a second longer, feeling like there was something else. But he didn't say anything else, so you just nodded slightly and turned back to face forward.
"Okay," you sniffled.
You leaned your head on the window. The glass was cold against the side of your head, a welcome contrast to the itchy warmth still on your face.
Steve put the car into drive, pulling back onto the road.
-
Steve sucked a breath in through his teeth.
The guest room was huge. The lack of furniture in it made it seem even bigger.
"My parents must've..." he began, but hesitated. "I don't know, actually." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
"Alright, then I'll take the couch downstairs. Do you need to borrow clothes?"
"What? No," you said, almost offended. Steve seemed taken aback.
"Uh, sorry? Are you sleeping in that dress..?"
"No- not that, I mean you're not sleeping on the couch," you shook your head, your shoes still dangling from your fingers.
He looked at you a second, before sighing and turning to go into his room across the hall. You followed him.
You noticed his bed was big. At least a queen, which you briefly felt like scoffing over, but you ignored the "I hate rich people" feeling and focused your attention back onto Steve. He tossed a t-shirt and pajama pants to you. Were those the only kind of sleep clothes he owned?
He promptly left the room, closing the door behind him. You opened it right back up, following after him as he started down the stairs.
"Steve?"
"Yeah?" He didn't even turn around, reaching the bottom of the stairs and pulling a spare blanket out of the closet at the landing.
"Stop, you're not sleeping on the couch." You reached him, staring up at him, firm.
He turned to you, blanket in hand.
"You just got stood up, I'm not making you sleep on the couch," he stated, also firm, and turned back to the couch. He draped the blanket over it as you stood there, trying to think of a rebuttal.
"Okay. Your bed is probably big enough." Your voice was meek, not even convincing yourself as you shrugged. He straightened up and turned to you again. He glanced away a couple times, you noticed, and when he finally responded he still couldn't look directly at you.
"...For what?"
You tilted your head, frowning, and crossed your arms.
"You know what, Steve."
"Ah.." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it was already.
"It doesn't have to be a thing. Your bed is huge. You picked me up at 10 at night, you shouldn't have to sleep on the couch.." you started trying to explain, to convince him, but trailed off. This was stupid. You stood there, chewing on the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to say something.
"Okay," he finally said, with a sigh. "Go change." He gestured up toward the staircase.
You gave him a half-smile before turning and going back upstairs, to the bathroom.
-
Once you actually laid down, you realized that having Steve sleep on the couch would've been so much easier than this. Even though you were on opposite sides of the bed, pretty much hanging off the edge, you just couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was there. And all it took was scooting over and removing the precautionary pillow you snuck between you two before you were cuddling. And the image of you cuddling...
Your eyes shot open again. The clock on his nightstand read 11:52 pm. You sighed and rolled onto your back, staring at the dark ceiling, your frown deepening.
You wondered if Steve was asleep already.
You rolled onto your side, facing him. You couldn't see much over the pillow, but you heard his soft breathing over the fan motor.
Why were you still thinking of him like that? Shame washed over you. Accepting the date from Matthew was partly because of your desperation for affection and validation, you hadn't lied about that, but the other part was because you liked Steve. And you had been trying to deny it for a while, but you had to start declining almost every invitation to something Steve would be at. And his frequent pool parties were completely off the table. You were sure that everyone had picked up on it, especially Robin, who would give you this look every time you said no to plans.
So, what do you do when you have a crush that can't resolve itself?
Obviously, you get with someone else.
But that didn't work. It only led to you being forced into Steve's house for the night, sleeping in his clothes, in his bed, next to him. Which, looking back on it, was completely avoidable. It felt almost like your crush was subconsciously steering you closer to him, betraying you.
You rolled onto your back again, pushing your hands over your face.
Something must be seriously wrong with you, you thought.
The bedsheets shuffled under Steve and you went rigid. You could hear him turn over, breathe, move the pillow away. You couldn't pull your hands away from your face.
"Y/N?" His voice was hushed, hesitant.
You took a second to respond. "...Yeah?"
He took longer. "You okay..?"
You nodded, brought your hands down. "Yeah."
Silence stretched longer and longer, until Steve whispered back again, keeping his voice low even though no one else was asleep. Hushed voices were just a principle of the dark.
"What's keeping you up?"
"Thinking about the date," you lied.
Steve hummed. Silence, again.
"Don't get too hung up on it. It's his loss."
He was looking at your profile intently, you could see it from the corner of your eye. You didn't dare look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling.
You couldn't help but push, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he hesitated, not thinking of what to say, but thinking if he wanted to say it. "You're great. Just, anyone would be lucky to go on a date with you, so it's really his loss for bailing. Especially since he never got to see you in that dress."
You swallowed, ignored the dress comment. You couldn't focus on it without your mind swimming.
"It doesn't feel like that," you whispered, quieter than the fan.
"What doesn't?"
"People being lucky to have me." You closed your eyes, wanting to take back whatever you had said tonight, whatever you were going to say, to take back calling him in the first place. You couldn't. Vulnerability was also a principle of the dark, hand in hand with hushed voices.
Steve didn't say anything. You could tell he was squinting, how he did whenever he was trying to figure something out. When he was trying to figure you out.
You felt obliged to continue, he was waiting for you to do so, "Just... no one's really liked me since middle school. So if I'm such a catch... I don't know. I just don't feel like I'm really that great." With your eyes closed and your voice so low, it felt like you were back at home for a second, talking with your cat. You thought about your cat. You really missed her now.
"That's not- Y/N, people have liked you since middle school, trust me," Steve mumbled. He seemed a little upset now, almost offended, if you really analyzed his tone.
"How would you know?" You opened your eyes again, almost pouting.
"Because I-" he sighed. "I just do."
You heard the sheets under him shuffle again. He was laying on his back now, mirroring you.
You stared at the ceiling a second longer, everything he had said tonight running back through your head, though you weren't sure if you remembered anything correctly. You started to backtrack through time, past tonight, back to when you started to force yourself to avoid him, to when you still went to his house to hang out, all the way back to when Robin introduced you to him at Scoops. And things just started to fall, dominoes connected number-to-number, then stood up and pushed over. And maybe you were crazy, maybe you had set up the dominoes yourself and pushed them over, and the falling meant nothing other than pleasing yourself. But you turned your head anyway, and Steve's face looked pained.
"Are you okay?" you asked, voice a little louder, but still not loud enough to break the dark.
He exhaled, blinked slowly.
"Yeah." His voice sounded more confident now, more assured. He turned his head too, and you could both see something else in the other's eyes, even through the dark.
"Steve," you whispered. You needed to tell him something, although you weren't sure what exactly it was, just that it was there and it needed to be said.
He looked at you, eyebrows raising just slightly, asking you to continue.
It was caught in your throat. It was so close, you just had to force it out. You had said so much tonight. When did it become too much?
"I like you."
Too much.
Steve's expression didn't change. Not that you could see. He just looked at you, and looked and looked, and your heart had to have stopped beating, you wished it would, because you had said to much. Three words, and you had pushed over the line. You couldn't move either, and you just looked at Steve, looked and looked, like an idiot.
The fan droned on and on, and you wished you could move so that you could get up and throw it out of the window, and then follow it down yourself.
Eventually, after minutes and minutes of just looking at each other, you looked down, to where the blanket rested on your chest, under your hands, like you were ashamed, being scolded without anything being said.
He suddenly sat up, not fully, just propping himself up on his elbow.
"Say that again." His voice wasn't hushed anymore.
You looked back up, a little surprised.
"I- I like you?" your voice raised slightly to try and match his, but was kept down with uncertainty.
He laughed once, sort of exasperated, and then flopped back down onto his back. His hands came up to cover his face, dragging down before running back up into his hair, where he held them until you spoke up again, now sitting.
"Steve, I- I'm confused..?"
He looked up at you, his mouth hanging open. Then he sprung up to meet you, suddenly close and full of energy.
"Y/N, you are the most amazing- I- I meant every word I've said, and just all night I've been wishing that I was taking you to Enzo's, because I would've driven you myself-" he was rambling, not making any sense, not helping you to understand.
"What?" you cut him off, you voice now at the same volume as his. He stopped, looking you straight in the eye, getting his thoughts together before speaking.
"I like you, too."
Then everything stopped, slowed, then sped up, and it all suddenly felt juvenile, confessing at a sleepover that neither of your parents knew about. And you laughed, once, then fell into a small fit of giggles as it all felt so ridiculous. It felt ridiculous that you felt so bad about getting stood up a few hours ago, when you didn't know it would all be fine because Steve did like you back, and he would say so, and he would watch as you fell back onto the bed, giggling from pure joy and maybe a little embarrassment, and he would start to laugh too, relieved, and lay next to you, no pillow between you.
And you would talk for another thirty minutes, him starting with "I thought Robin was crazy," and you sitting up again, continuing with "Wait, what did she tell you?" and him detailing how she sounded like a conspiracy theorist trying to convince him of your crush, and you getting embarrassed all over again.
And another twenty minutes would pass as the two of you talked about when your crushes formed, yours when he insisted he pay for your meal at the diner with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan just because you had forgotten your wallet at home, and refused any form of repayment you offered, and his when you sauntered into Family Video one random Thursday and leaned against the counter while talking to Robin while he was putting returned tapes back onto the shelves, and you just looked at him and smiled and he was gone, as Robin put it later when she saw how he looked at you as you left.
And both of you were sitting up, tired but not wanting the night to ever end, the night where you were alone together in Steve's room, nobody in the world knowing you were there except for Steve himself. And your conversation slowed to a stop, just so you two could bask in this night, until Steve breathed and leaned in just barely, looking at your lips rather obviously.
"Can I kiss you?" His eyes flicked back up to your eyes to ask, and lingered there as he waited for your response, which came as you tilting your head and leaning in. Your lips met, finally, after years, and it wasn't long before you both started to move, one of your hands to Steve's shoulder, and one of Steve's hands to your face, then your legs sliding closer to overlap his, and his other hand to your waist. You only parted when you absolutely had to, because you lost your breath much quicker than Steve, which was evident in the way he chased you as you pulled back. You had to push him back gently with a hand on his chest, and even then he just peppered more kisses across you face, making you giggle again.
"Is it weird that I'm kinda glad I got stood up tonight?"
"Oh thank God, I thought I was the only one."
