Sheâs Always a Woman To MeâSteve Harrington x Reader
Summary: When Steveâs parents come home unexpectedly, he runs to his friendâs house for safety. (First posted fic, feel free to roast.)
A heavy breath escaped Steveâs lips as he pulled into the driveway of her trailer. The only way he knew for sure it was hers was the old blue truck he pulled in behind. He has only been here once before, just to drop her off, so he wasnât totally sure of himself when he drove there. In fact, he wasnât totally sure he knew why he drove here. In the past, when he needed somewhere to go, itâd be wherever his friend group was boozing at the moment, but that wasnât an option anymore. Heâd never thought he was bothered by that until this very moment while he was trying to work up the courage to knock on her front door.
She wouldnât even know you were here, he thought to himself, if you turned and ran right now sheâd never know and you can act like everything is normal and stop bothering her about something thatâs not even a huge--he got out of the car.
Walking closer to the front door, he could hear music coming through the window in the backâThe Pretendersâhe almost laughed out loud. The urge to smile at the thought of her spinning records alone on a night before sheâd have to spend the whole day in a record store was louder than the thoughts in his head telling him to leave her alone, she never given you any reason to think she likes you enough to help you out tonight, especially when itâs not even--he knocks 3 times.
Quickly, the music was lowered. Through the crisp air and buzzing of the summer evening, Steve could hear glasses clinking and muttered curses as small steps rushed closer to the door separating him from potential safety. Or, she could laugh in your face and kick you out. There are probably plenty of other people sheâd rather be around tonight, especially afterâ
âHarrington?â Steve looked down with a tight lipped smile to see the girl that appeared behind the swinging door. He noticed her voice wasnât condescending or at all teasing when she asked, âWhat are you doing here? Did something happen?â
âNaaah, I just, I-I-I thought Iâd stop over because I, uh,â Wherever bridge Steveâs train of thought was careening off of was suddenly gone, replaced only with the question, âWhat the hell am I interrupting?â
Every strand of her hair was messily thrown into varying sizes of velcro rollers, her t-shirt was damp and hung to her knee, and there was a smear of something muddy on her face. Although he doesnât think heâd ever seen her without black smudges around her lashes, darkly lined lips, and big red boots on, Steve Harrington wasnât one to be shocked by a girl with no makeup on. Heâd seen plenty of girls âbefore and afterâ a night out, so he had no explanation for why he couldnât stop staring at her.
âHa-ha, donât answer my question with a dumber one,â she replied, leaning against the door frame. âWhy are you here?â
Again, her tone was just soft enough to make him want to tell her everything that was pounding through his brain like horse hooves on a racetrack. Couldnât do it, though. âI was in the neighborhood.â He was lying through his teeth and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it, which is why his heart swelled a bit when she told him to come in instead of questioning him further.
He didnât think it was possible for a trailer to look like this from the inside. In fact, if youâd asked anyone in their graduating class to guess what the inside of her trailer would look like, no one would have come anywhere close. With the records lining the walls on shelves, big pillows and plush blankets on the couch, dim lighting, and photos and posters covering the walls, Steve thinks itâs the coziest place heâs ever been.
He wanted to tell her that; wanted to say thank you for letting him see her home and for answering the door at all and that heâs sorry people didnât treat her well enough in high school just because they didnât know any better and that he wishes he could have helped and he doesnât really deserve to be standing in here at all, but instead he said, âwhatâs on your cheek?â
She turned her eyes, which looked like they were trying to read something on his face, to the mirror on the wall next to her. âOh, itâs a facemask. I was kinda having a âme nightâ before you got here.â
âHence the new Pretender album I could hear from outside?â he teased, knowing she was going to question why he was there and trying as hard as he could to prolong that.
âYeah!â she barked a laugh. âI finally got enough saved to snag one of the copies we have in the shop without having to skip out on groceries. Which I was totally considering, by the way.â This earns another big breath from Steve, both a laugh and of some relief at his success. After some silence between the two of them, she continues, âum, you could join me? If you want?â
âAnd this is supposed to doâŠwhat, exactly?â Steve scrunched his nose at the slowly hardening gray goop covering his cheeks. He was seated on her bed, hair pinned away from his face as he sipped on the glass of wine in his hand. She was across the room, leafing through the milk crate of vinyls under her desk.
âI donât know, make your skin better? Close your pores? Something like that.â She waved it off, turning to him. âStop doing that, relax your face. Hall and Oates okay?â She held the record up for him to see.
He nodded as she approached the record player. Did she know they were one of his favorites? âIâm offended that you think my skin needs the help.â
âShut up, itâs more for fun than anything else,â she walked over to him as the static faded into the familiar opening chords of You're Out of Touch. As she put a hand on his cheek, the poetic timing of that particular song was not lost on him, especially while he was trying his hardest not to think about it. âI think weâre good to take it off now anyway. Follow me.â
He did so, into the tight space as she turned on the sink. She waited for the water to warm up, then dipped a washcloth into the stream, hopping up onto the counter next to the sink to face him. Resting her hand on the spot between his neck and shoulder, she began to wipe the facemask off of his skin.
âThen stop doing that scrunchie face again.â
Whether it was the glass and a half of chardonnay he had since getting to her place, or the steady rhythm of her dipping the cloth into the warm water, cleaning off his skin, rinsing the gray stuff off the cloth, and repeating, Steveâs tension had almost totally eased. So, he was caught off guard when she said, softly, âdo you want to tell me why you came here?â
Steve held his breath and she must have noticed because she continued in the same tone, âyou donât have to tell me if you donât want. But I know just talking about things usually helps me, makes my brain quieter. Or we donât have to.â
Steve took a deep breath. She wasnât watching him, staying vigilant to clean his face (which was quickly warming up, and he is blaming that entirely on the warm water and nothing else). But was looking right at her, and he decided he wasnât afraid. In this tiny bathroom, he didnât need to be.
âMy parents came home,â he finally admitted. She didnât pause her process, or speak, and Steve assumes she was waiting to see if he wanted to say more. âI didnât expect them to, and as soon as they started talking to me I justâŠneeded somewhere else to go. I didnât want to be in my house anymore.â
She looked like she was thinking for a moment, before she said, âI know theyâre not usually there. Do you prefer that?â
âYou got that right,â he mumbled.
âIâm sorry, obviously I donât get along well with my parents either,â she vaguely gestured to the trailer she lived in by herself, âBut I donât know how Iâd handle my parents popping in and playing house all of the sudden,â she was looking at him with her big eyes.
Steve didnât know what to say. He couldnât remember ever feeling like it was okay to complain about his family, with how well off they were compared to people like her and the Byers. His mouth was opening and nothing was coming out. She hopped off the counter. âI donât blame you for running out of there. But thereâs no one to antagonize you like that here.â she laughed.
As she hung the cloth on the drying rack and handed him a fluffy towel for his face (telling him sternly to âpat, donât rub,â) and began to rinse her own face in the sink, Steve continued, âI guess I just didnât want to act like I was feeling sorry for myself. But the thought of staying in the house with them made me, I donât know, panic. I just wasnât ready to deal with it.
âI totally get it! You shouldnât have to put up with that shit out of nowhere!â she raised her voice slightly to make sure he heard her over the rushing water.
Like the flowing of water from the faucet, Steve let his words flow from his mouth without stopping them, âThey always want to grill me about my life, you know? And no matter what Iâm doing, itâs never enough. Hell, I could tell them Iâve been elected president and theyâd find a reason why Iâm not doing enough! And what if I donât want to think that far into my future just yet? What if I just want to âlive for todayâ or whatever. Oh, and donât even get me started on how they acted when I told them about the breakup with Nancy. They NEVER take interest in my personal life until I mention that Iâm single again, and all of the sudden they just want to talk about how I couldn't even keep a relationship with such a nice and promising young lady. And if I even try to defend myself my father will..â
Quickly snapping off the tap, she turned to face him, water dripping off of her chin. She seemed to be holding her breath, clearly expecting the worst. Although she might not have been too far off, he decided heâd maybe want to keep the details to himself for now, and waved himself off.
âYou can stay here, if you wanna,â she told him when he didnât resume the rant, âThat way you donât have to think about going back until youâre ready.â
Steveâs heart swelled at the offer, and despite feeling like it was more than what he deserved for this situation, he nodded his head, and she grinned. Looking at her, he noticed she missed a spot right under her eye, so he grabbed the cloth she used on his face, held her chin with his other hand, and gently wiped her skin clean. As she watched him carefully, she quietly told him, âyou donât deserve that, you know. I mean, no one does, but you really donât.â
âYeah?â he murmured softly, eyes flicking over to hers before returning to his task.
âYeah. I think youâre doing just fine. Better than theyâd pay attention enough to notice,â they stayed looking at each other.
âIâm still sorry for complaining,â he admitted, tone still soft. âI wouldnât blame someone like you for being annoyed when someone like me complains.â
âNow youâre not giving yourself enough credit,â she pointed out, rolling forward on her toes and almost bumping her nose against his. âBesides, just because I might have some shit, it doesnât make your shit any lessâŠshitty.â Steve laughed, clearly confused, and she threw her head back in a laugh as well, tossing her wrist over his shoulder. âI just mean that two things can be sad at the same time. And you can tell me anything. IâŠIâm happy to listen.â
Steve looked down at their feet, both of them in a pair of her fuzzy socks (âtheyâre essential,â she had told him), and reached a hand up to wrap around her forearm. âThank you,â he spoke deliberately as he brought his eyes back up to hers. âI thinkâŠI think I know that. I mean, that I can tell youâŠstuff.â
âGood,â she smiled. âOkay, letâs go, if youâre spending the night youâre watching âRaiders of the Lost Arcâ with me.â
The movie choice didnât matter, by the end of the night. The two of them talked over it, and the next one, and the next; they talked about their parents or exes or the things that kept them up at night here and there, when one of them felt like they needed to. They laughed those laughs that make your face get all hot and make you feel like youâve just run the mile in gym. Steve couldnât remember the last time he laughed like that, and it was certainly more laughs than he would have had with his parents at home. They talked to each other until they couldnât keep their eyes open anymore. And the next morning, when Steve wakes up on the couch with her feet on his lap, he decides that heâd never felt more at home.
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