in which your younger brother plays baseball and won't stop talking about his coach, a man you already know a lot about.
warnings: 16+? not really sure, innuendos and allusions to sexual activity, making out, no smut tho
a/n: ok I have NEVER written for ST before but I am literally in love with this man and the finale made me feel things. what obsessing over a man for nine years gets you... if you have any steve!centric requests PLZ message me. I hope u enjoy! (++I would love feedback, was lowk scared to post this)
wc: 2906
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
There are a lot of annoying things about having a brother who’s way younger than you.
When your parents brought him home from the hospital, you were nearly in middle school and much more concerned with reading TEEN magazines with your friends and gushing over how good Harrison Ford looked in Star Wars. His crying would make it impossible to hear anything on the television, and your friends wouldn’t be able to hear you over the phone. His presence became a nuisance to you from the moment you were old enough to know what nuisance means.
Once you reached high school, you got stuck babysitting him whenever your parents came up with a reason to get away. Date nights, business trips, and even ‘family emergencies’ meant that your night plans would involve making dinner for two and tucking your brother into his bed. You vividly remember the times where you’d put him to bed early so that you could leave the house and go out to parties with your friends.
Sometimes you’d feel guilty for leaving him, but you’d tell yourself it was your parent’s fault for leaving you to do their job. You were responsible for your brother more than they ever were.
And now, you’re experiencing serious déjà vu.
Your parents have immediately taken advantage of the fact that you’re home from college by forcing you to chauffeur your brother to and from his baseball practice. You’d mildly protested at first, but realized doing so was futile. They hadn’t listened when you were younger, you doubt they’d care now.
You pop open your trunk and wait for your brother to find his bag, something that is taking him far longer than it should. Tapping your foot impatiently, you glance down at your watch and cup your hands around your mouth.
“Come on runt, you’re gonna be late for practice!”
Your brother emerges from the garage mere seconds later, unceremoniously tossing his bag into the trunk and hopping into the front seat. You roll your eyes, shutting the back and hopping into the driver's seat.
A turn of the key causes the George Michael CD you’d been listening to the night prior to blare through your speakers. Your brother covers his ears and sticks his tongue out in mock disgust.
The drive through your hometown has you nostalgic, and it’s almost enough to make you forget why you’re even in the car. That’s until your brother starts moving his arm along the window like it’s a snake traversing the streets of Hawkins.
Your first instinct is to tell him to quit getting your window dirty with his nasty hands, to be the mean older sister that calls him names and verbally punishes him for daring to exist.
When you look over at him, though, you see your brother for the little baby he once was and the young boy he still is. Your annoying brother, who drives you crazy all of the time by merely breathing, is also your little brother: the one who has to live at home with your parents and spend more nights than not by himself, entirely alone.
Be the big sister he deserves.
“So, how’ve you been liking baseball?”
You internally cringe at the basic question, suddenly feeling like an old distant relative you see around holidays and holidays alone, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.
In your periphery, you see his head snap towards you in excitement. A wide grin that’s missing a few teeth springs to his face.
“It’s super fun!” he chirps, “I have a lot of friends on the team. Like Derek plays too, he’s a catcher! And we’ve been winning a lot of games ‘cause we’re better than the other teams in the county, obviously, and-”
You cut off his word-vomit before he can continue, hoping your limited knowledge of baseball can carry you through so you don’t sound stupid to your own baby brother: “Catcher, huh? That’s pretty cool. How about you, you an outfielder or something like that?”
He shakes his head, but he looks proud. It takes all of your self-control to keep your fingers from reaching over and pinching his cheek.
“I'm the shortstop. Coach Steve says I have a good arm and I’m really accurate when I throw, it’s the position for the best.”
You smile, happy to hear him so proud.
“Sounds like Coach Steve thinks pretty highly of you.”
The next five minutes of the ride are spent listening to your brother worship Coach Steve and the ground he walks on. Bits about how “he’s the coolest”, “he teaches a funny class”, and how he’s “the best coach I’ve ever had” flood from his mouth like a waterfall of praise.
It reminds you of a Steve you knew in high school, who you ran in the same circle as and who you had a not-so-trivial thing with for a while. One you haven’t talked to in a long time, who also happened to play baseball when you guys were in school.
Maybe…
You cast that thought from your mind almost as soon as it enters. Your brother’s probably just talking about some random middle-aged man who wanted to coach his son or something like that, not your Steve.
The road leading to the ball fields comes into view, and you’re hit with another wave of memories from your younger years.
You pull into the grass lot, near the dugout so that your brother's walk isn’t too far. His teammates are bustling around, tearing bags open and lacing up cleats while practically yelling at one another. Their shouted conversations mix together into a giant collection of pure noise.
In the chaos of it all, a figure much taller than the rest walks into view. Clearly, you’re in the presence of Coach Steve.
“He’s probably gonna be pissed that you’re late,” you poke, “you better not blame me.”
You ignore your brother's scoff and step out of the car to help him gather his things. You pull his bag out and hand him his other bat.
As he’s rooting around for his cap, your eyes drift back over to the dugout. You squint, eyeing the coach more carefully. His outfit is doing little to conceal the taut muscles underneath, and the cap on his head is barely able to contain his glorious hair— hair that you’d recognize anywhere.
Holy hell…
Your feet move you a few steps closer, and from this distance you’re sure it’s him.
“Steve? Steve Harrington?”
His head whips up from his clipboard and his gaze lands on you. His eyes quickly flash with recognition and he mouths your name before tossing the clipboard aside and jogging over to you.
Your arms find him in a quick hug that's realistically a few more seconds than most would find appropriate, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
You pull away and really look at him up close. Steve has only grown more attractive with age, and you’re thinking some terribly sinful thoughts that would get your mouth washed out with soap were you to voice them. His beautiful brown eyes are as happy to see you as ever, seeming to take you in as much as you are doing to him. His hair, you notice, might even be longer than it was the last time you saw him. You take a mental picture for yourself, and you know that you’re going to dream about his handsome face later.
“It’s been a while! What’re you doing here?” He puts his hands on his hips casually, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s as nervous as you are right now (he is).
“My brother plays,” you gesture to where he’d been standing by the trunk, only to discover he’d made his escape already, “wherever he is.”
Steve laughs, turning around to survey his team before he sees your little brother talking to Derek.
“I didn’t put that together. I would probably figure he was a cousin of yours or something.”
You smile, watching your brother interact with his friend.
“He was just telling me how great Coach Steve is actually,” you look at him, “I didn’t realize it was the Steve Harrington he was talking about.”
He chuckles, eyebrow lifting in amusement as his eyes fall back to yours.
“Is that surprising to you?”
You decide that it is not totally surprising that the Steve you knew ended up coaching. He’s always wanted kids, and you picture this as practice for raising his own someday. Your train of thought shifts quickly when thinking of how he would get those kids, and you suddenly put together that this Coach Steve is in fact the one who teaches the “funny class.”
“Honestly, I was more shocked to hear that you’re the one who teaches sex ed.”
His eyes widen, and you let out a laugh that you quickly try to cover with your hand. He shakes his head, hand coming to run through the part of his hair that’s actually exposed as he breathes out a laugh.
“It’s part of the gig,” and then, as though possessed by the ‘King Steve’ of days long past, he adds, “at least it’s a subject I’m not half-bad at.”
You feel a shocking yet familiar tug from lower down. Something about the way he says it brings you back to a foggy memory from several years ago, to a spring night in Tommy H’s basement.
“She’s here!”
Your then-best-friend Carol had separated herself from her boyfriend to greet you, pushing through people to get to the front door where you stood. She gives you a quick once-over and grins.
“You look sooo good,” she slurred, handing you a cup, “I made this for you.”
“Thanks,” you accepted the mystery drink and allowed her to start pulling you down the stairs.You’d looked down at your dress, hoping it wasn’t too much for a party to celebrate yet another win for the baseball team. “I’m not overdressed, am I?”
Carol laughed, shrill and full.
“Oh, the guys here are gonna love it!”
You’d shivered at that prediction—that hadn’t been what you were going for at all.
“I just came to hang with you, though. I don’t really need for guys to be looking at me.”
She rolled her eyes at that, not understanding how you could look like that and not want attention. Her inebriated self eventually relented though, and she placed an unsteady hand on your shoulder.
“Of course, we can hang all night,” she said, placing emphasis on ‘all’.
She’d just as quickly abandoned you though, opting to play Quarters and suck face with Tommy H. Some best friend.
You’d mingled with some of the girls you recognized from shared classes, but quickly got sick of dealing with drunk people while being practically sober. You took your cup, half-full with the same liquid you’d been gifted at the beginning of the night, and retreated back to the basement.
The loveseat in the corner was calling your name, and with only a sparse number of people there it seemed like your best option. You sat down and spaced out, staring into the dark red of the solo cup contents.
“You look like you’re having fun.”
You were snapped out of your trance and noticed that Steve now stood in front of you, matching cup in hand. He looked as handsome as ever, and you smiled.
“Could you tell?”
He smiled back, gesturing to the spot next to you. You scooched over, making the small amount of space slightly bigger. He sat down, and you weren’t unaware of the feeling of his thigh making contact with yours.
“I’m not having too much fun either, if it makes you feel any better.” He took a sip from his cup, surveying the basement.
At the close proximity, you could smell the mix of his cologne with a hint of tobacco. He’d probably already had a smoke with some of the other guys at the party.
You shake your head in disbelief, wanting to comment on how Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington could make his own fun, should he choose to. You hold back though, content that he chose to sit with you.
“Carol ditched me.”
“Shocker.” He looks at you, eyes widening before somewhat nervously adding: “No offense, I mean. You don’t deserve that.”
“It is my fault though,” you stare into your drink again, “this happens every time. She always says we’ll get to spend time together, and then she has a few drinks and-“
“Her and Tommy end up disappearing to the nearest empty room for the rest of the party.”
You look at him reverently, leaning your head on his shoulder in appreciation.
“At least you get it.”
Despite hanging out with the same people, this was the first time you could remember talking extensively one-on-one with Steve. It was nice to have someone who understood your grievances on a more personal level than other people at your school. Anyone that wasn’t in your bubble couldn’t fully grasp what you went through on a daily basis.
“They don’t know what they’re missing. You’re great company.” His brown eyes scan your face as his arm comes to rest around your shoulder. Your heart beats wildly out of control and you take a gulp of your drink.
Your drink disappears over the next however-long without you even realizing, conversation flowing between the two of you easily. Steve entertained you by posing dumb hypotheticals, most of them totally impossible but fun to consider nonetheless.
“Rambo would absolutely kick your ass!” You giggled; your face hurt from smiling so much.
“Hey, I think I could land a few hits at least.” He swung an invisible bat, and you made a reminder to go watch their next home game.
“His M60 isn’t gonna let you get close enough to do that! You can’t bring a baseball bat to a machine gun fight, Steve.”
“Worth a try!” He grinned, boyish and devastatingly handsome.
As more people migrated to the basement to watch the intense beer pong tournament happening, the two of you kept moving your faces closer to one another so you could ‘hear’.
The still-unknown drink in your system combined with the presence of Steve made you feel comfortably warm, your extremities buzzing and eyelashes fluttering.
Silence fell between the two of you as your eyes traveled from his eyes to his lips and back again. Like magnets, your faces moved closer together. A single look from Steve told you everything you needed to know, and you nodded.
Your lips messily crash onto his, jetting far beyond chaste and instead a manifestation of your needy desperation for one another.
The feeling of his lips on yours was like magic; the pressure of his mouth leading you borderline lightheaded. His big hands had traveled from your arms to your face and side, respectively. His thumb massaged your cheek slowly, holding you in place against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck in response. After a dizzying amount of time (which seemed to fall away when you were entwined with him), his tongue slipped into your mouth. You felt fireworks explode in your stomach and a slick sensation beneath your dress.
He pulled away a few minutes later, the two of you practically panting for breath. You missed the contact immediately.
“Steve-”
You cut yourself off with a gasp as his mouth attached to your neck, pressing featherlight kisses that got more and more passionate until-
“You’ve got that right.”
You interrupted the memory before your body could react in the same way it had back then.
His face is pink as though he’d also been remembering examples of his abilities. You catch as he bites the inside of his cheek before he speaks again.
“We have a game tomorrow, actually. It’d be nice if you could come.”
An invitation? You’d been planning on going anyway, knowing that your parents were more than likely not going to be there, but getting directly asked by Steve made it so much different.
“I don’t really know all that much about baseball though,” you cross your arms, knowingly pushing your chest up, “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”
Steve—who is fighting with everything in him to maintain eye contact and don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down—runs his hand through his outstanding hair and smiles at you. It sends a jolt through your heart (and even lower).
“I could show you the basics, tonight at my place,” his hand rubs the back of his neck, “I’m a great teacher.”
“How about dinner too?”
“That was a given, beautiful.”
You beam.
“I’ll see you after practice then, Coach” you wink.
His jaw drops open only then, lips fighting to form words before he settles for a smirk that’s definitely not as suave as he hopes. In any case, it’s endearing.
You slide back into your car, watching him through your rearview until you can’t see the field.
Tonight, you’re going to put his coaching and teaching to the test.
————————
Derek points over to where your car had been.
“Dude, it’s so obvious that Coach Steve likes your sister, and your sister likes Coach Steve!”
“Ew! No way!”
He looks over to the now-empty spot, shrugging.
“All I’m saying is that your sister is probably sucking his fat one-“
summary: just a little drabble about coach!steve and art teacher!reader who has never been in a serious relationship before! fem!reader. thank you for the request and enjoy a preview of the ficlets you'll be seeing from me this weekend!
steve harrington ୨ৎ teacher au ୨ৎ coworkers to lovers
it had been a perfect third date. steve had taken you out to enzo's after another long week of teaching, coaching, and plenty of messes between the baseball diamond and the art room. things had been going steady for about and month now, which had surprised you.
when you moved to hawkins had finishing up grad school, you never anticipated putting yourself out there, much less commiting to seeing someone. it was mostly because you had never been one to pursue romance, because of your focus on studying and setting up a life for yourself. the art teacher job at hawkins middle was the first job you had with more stability that part-time retail. meeting steve just happened to be a benefit of accepting the position.
you were now parked outside your apartment complex in his blue truck. during the ride home, he explained how he'd bought the truck used from his cousin in north dakota after his beamer was totaled in a crash a few years ago. the entire story, you could hardly focus on his words. instead, you'd been preoccupied with committing the shape of his nose to memory and imagining if he'd finally kiss you tonight, rather than a polite peck on the cheek.
unfortunately, the words tumbled from your lips before you even thought to catch yourself, "I really like you, Steve, and you're a really great guy, and I want you to be my boyfriend."
you instantly cringed, replaying the awkward and almost robotic words in your mind. Idiot, you thought to yourself, now he's gonna realize that you're just a weird virgin...
Steve blinked once. Twice. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "I... really like you too. but what spurred that sudden admission?"
he leaned in slightly, his arm resting against the back of the seat. his fingertips nearly brushed against your shoulders. you cleared your throat as you tried to not be hyperaware of his proximity, "well, this is our third real date. not saying that grabbing coffee and hanging out in the breakroom don't count. they do; but it's a little different, y'know? But you've been really kind even since I started at hawkins middle. not in the way that you've just been chasing after me since day one, but more of that i've been able to slowly become your friend, and now falling in love with you, and i'm starting to recognize that i'm rambling, so i'm just gonna stop now..."
Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your top as you gave Steve the space to soak up your words.
steve raised a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ears. a soft smile etched itself into his face, "it's cute when you ramble."
he ducked his head in closer, nudging your cheek so you'd meet his gaze, "and i'm falling for you too. faster than you've probably realized?"
"yeah?" you gently asked, eyes flicking down to his lips.
his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips as he caught your drifting gaze. he hummed, dipping his head closer, "yeah." with that, steve pressed his lips to yours, tying up the perfect evening with a perfect first kiss.
the thought of coach harrington x single mom!reader who meet at your son’s game or at a parent-teacher conference. steve’s a professional, of course, but he can’t help being a massive flirt around you bc you’re so goddamn pretty
PLEASE!!!
When Steve starts coaching a little league team during the summers and you bring your second grader, and Steve's just such a smarmy shit that makes all of these comments about how you look like his sister, not his mom, and how old were you when you had him, twelve? and, his dad's not in the picture, right? what a douchebag.
And he's really just giving you his all, he's absolutely smitten by you. You're competent, you're beautiful, you know what you want. You have a goddamn carphone and a two bedroom condo in the new units being built around Lovers Lake. He's staying with Ms. Henderson again since he blew his house savings on a travel trailer.
"C'mon, I'm taking the boys out for pizza when we win, you should come," he pleads, leaning over the metal fence in the middle of the game.
And you just roll your eyes and shake your head. "If you win," you correct.
And he just gives a smug grin and nods. "I always win." And you know he's not just talking about the little league game anymore.
single mom trope is my favorite! Please could you continue with it, maybe the following scene? She picks Johnny up and maybe Steve is still a babbling mess lol but he manages to ask her out on a date (because taking it slow is not an option now) :)
“Have fun, see you soon!” You shouted as johnny drifted to his teammates faster than you could finish your sentence. He was high fiving them as well as steve, that was now searching for you, eyeing the parking lot.
Your figure was leaning against the door frame, slightly raising your hand to greet him. Steve told the kids something making them rush collectively to the benches as he rushed to you.
“Hey.” His hands were placed on his hips, a cheeky nervous smile creeping upon his face.
“At six sharp as always? I will pick him up today, my brother works the night shift.”
“Yeah.. six, make it six fifteen y’know post practice conversations and all that boy stuff.”
“Sure, wouldn’t want to interrupt the boy business.”
You were both a talking mess, cheeks red, nasal chuckles escaping every now and then, you waiting for him to make the first step and vice versa.
“I mean you can come at six it’s fine, parents wait for them to finish y’know, your brother was pushing six thirty always. Sorry I’m rambling again, you can come whenever, but since I already made a fool of myself twice maybe six fifteen is fine.”
“I will stick with six.” You smiled at him from ear to ear, hoping for that 15 minute of alone time with him.
“Yeah, yeah six is great. See you then.”
Steve loves his job, he is so dedicated to being a coach and a friend of theirs, but today he couldn’t wait for the clock to strike six, ending the practice.
It was a painful practice, he didn’t focus on the kids, on their techniques, nothing. His mind was overloaded with the images of you in that sweet dress, arms wrapping around yourself like it was freezing outside.
And somewhere between checking the clock constantly and trying to give the kids instructions for the next game, he saw you near the fence with some other parents.
The practice was over, but he lost track of time.
“Okay boys, see you on wednesday, you did amazing today. Off you go now to recap today’s practice.” he clapped, taking of his cap, moving to the exit to say hello to the parents.
You were watching him interact with the parents, squeezing the shoulders of one of the kid that was already ready to go, probably hyping the kid up with positive compliments. It made your chest explode with warmth when he hugged him before leaving.
“Six fifteen, you were right after all.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said that already but I lost track of time, they were extra great today, especially johnny.”
“I hope he was really, he loves baseball so much, always talking about how he can’t wait for the next practice to tell and show coach steve his new tricks that his grandpa taught him.”
“Johnny is a real deal honestly, raw talent, skilled, a strong competitor for his age believe me, you can tell where it comes from. Also his grandpa taught him mean tricks by the way.”
“Not from me surely, but that sounds like a compliment and I’ll take that selfishly.”
“I mean he’s competitive, but also calm and a team player. That balance doesn’t come easy yeah? You know what, I’m doing that thing where I talk too much again I kinda wanted you to come after the last time to start a conversation with you without being a mess but clearly I’m not acing it and believe me I’m usually better at talking than this.”
“Are you now?”
“Apparently not when I’m asking a mother of my trainee out, which I don’t do often. N-no I mean, I never asked a parent to grab a coffee with me, please don’t get this wrong now.”
You were smirking, his charm was working on you more than he could imagine it would. A lot of time passed since someone was hitting this openly on you, and you were floating from the attention he was giving you.
“Would you maybe want to get coffee sometime? Not about practice and without the other parents staring at us. Just…coffee?”
“Before you apologize again, yes I would love to grab a coffee.” You were as nervous as steve was but on the inside, already counting the days.
a/n: i love coach steve soooo much please feel free to send more ideas in 🥹
I just can’t wrap my head around Steve being a baseball coach ohhhh goooood
My head is spinning for the past few days like can you imagine him winning the game with his sweet babies and you cheering for them??? Like he would be so fucking proud and he is PRETTY sure that you’re his lucky charm and he always reminds you of that by saying “my sweet princess, you coming today after work?” “you know you’re my lucky charm baby, you sitting up there, looking all pretty and mine, cheering for me, them.. you are my damn angel you need to come.” Of course you never missed any game but…
I don’t wanna mention that one time that you were late because your damn boss kept you a little longer at work that day and his team was LOSING like losing losing but when he saw you running to your seat, smiling and waving at him, Steve went bonkers, encouraging his team to keep up, all while looking at you with that stupid smirk on his face.. and of course they won at the end (because of you yeah??) and what about him rewarding you afterwards because you came just in time to save the game day?!
Yeah THIS is making me crazy, Steve in blue, that damn haT is staying on his head during it, him still whispering in your ear how you were the reason they won while pounding into you holding your neck gently pressing his forehead against yours ; “look at me sweetheart, you like that? You deserve everything, my lucky charm.”
“If you come to our games every single time I will reward you after them, I promise baby, I can’t do it without you.”
“You love how I praise you huh? I can barely move baby your pussy is squeezing me like crazy, fuck.”
“Maybe someday I will coach our little one hm? Would you like that sweetie? Before all that you all round and pretty with my baby inside of ya?”
following your drabble about coach steve, what about coach! x single!mom??? I am more into that and how would they roll, perhaps your brother picks your son lately buttt you’re off of work finally and steve is like ‘oh are you here to pick up your brother?’ or afterwards when you say that he (whatever name) is your son he asks about your brother if he is your husband and sooo on, I believe that they immediately fall in love 😭😭
YES YES YES! That would be prettyyyy sweet okay listen, so yeah you’re a hardworking lady, having the help and support from your family and all of that makes your life a thousand times easier. Sooo maybe when johnny (your son) started his practices there was another coach, so you met just him and Steve came just when your shifts started to be chaotic making it impossible to juggle everything, and that’s where your brother stepped in, driving him there and picking him up, trying to cheer him up with some ice cream or other treats every time when johnny saw his uncle pull up to pick him up. You were left with only great stories about coach steve and how cool and awesome he was.
You finally got ahead on your shifts the week after. Work finished early, dinner for later done, shower done, laundry done and just in time to pick up johnny from practice. You maintained yourself surely, but sometimes the lack of time squeezed the maintenance part out of your schedule.
Can we just say that this time it was like a sign from the universe that you need to fix yourself up a little bit?
And you thank the damn universe for that sign because you couldn’t believe what or better who was standing in front of your son’s team, waiting with all of them together for their parents to arrive.
Your heart did that little jump, the one you experienced only when johnny was little bumping into things and climbing upon everything, however this one was a mix of positive fear and nervousness.
When you finally exhaled for the last time and started to walk towards them, lightly waving to johnny, you could feel his eyes glued to you instantly, yours were non better.
The gaze contest was interrupted by johnny that hugged your waist as tight as he could and you returning with a much bigger mama bear hug.
“I’m really sorry for interrupting the brother sister moment right now.”
You’re eyes snapped towards him immediately.
“Coach steve that’s my mommy.”
Immediate silence.
“Oh, mommy? I apologize johnny boy, my tongue works faster than my brain.”
Coach steve stroked johnny’s hair not breaking the eye contact between you two.
“A lot ot of people think we’re siblings, it’s fine mr…?”
“Harrington, but please steve is okay.” His hand was so soft, gentle when you accepted it to introduce yourself properly, telling johnny to wait in the car.
“I get it why a lot of people think you’re brother and sister, I mean your husband is also confusing.”
“Sorry what? Husband?”
“Yeah, I-I mean sorry, there’s nothing wrong with being a young parent, in fact I think it’s amazing how much love and care you two put into johnny that’s all.”
“Thanks for the kind words, but I don’t have a husband, nor anyone. That husband was my brother.”
“Oh shit fuck. I’m sorry. I fucked everything up didn’t I? I really don’t think before I speak but you just look so beautiful and all — I need to shut up, also I swear that I’m not swearing in front of the kids like that.”
You laughed, like the one ‘I threw my head back like the movie type laugh’ laugh, because you could feel him getting more and more nervous, sweatingg from embarrassment.
“Not really, don’t sweat yourself you’ll ruin that mean hollywood hair of yours if you keep tugging on it.”
“I could redeem myself the next time you pick johnny up?”
“Absolutely mr. harrington, I’ll try my best to not send my husband.”
