Pairing: teacher Steve Harrington x shy female reader
Summary: You are the new teacher at the Hawkins middle school and Steve notices you immediately. He can’t help but falling for you.
Warnings: shy reader. pet names. flirting. mocking (in a sweet kinda way). yearning. no use of y/n.
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The first thing Steve Harrington notices about you is that you look lost.
Not someone call the authorities lost. Just standing in the middle of the darkened hallway at Hawkins Middle School after sundown with a stack of papers in your arms and the expression of someone who took one wrong turn twenty minutes ago and has been too stubborn to admit it ever since.
Honestly? Kind of adorable.
Steve watches through the glass doors for a second after leaving the baseball field, still carrying a crate of sports equipment against his hip.
The school’s mostly dark by now except for scattered classroom lights glowing warm against polished floors.
You disappear around the corner and Steve frowns slightly. Who the hell is still here this late?
He steps inside, letting the door shut behind him with a heavy clunk. The hallway echoes quietly.
Somewhere farther down, papers rustle. Steve follows the sound automatically. And then you suddenly step out of one of the classrooms directly into his path.
Both of you scream, papers fly absolutely everywhere.
“Oh my God!” you gasp, clutching your chest.
Steve nearly drops the equipment crate. “Jesus Christ ... sorry!”
You stare at each other in horrified silence for one beat. Then simultaneously burst into laughter. The tension breaks instantly.
“Oh no,” you groan, crouching quickly to collect your papers. “That was so embarrassing.”
Steve drops beside you automatically to help. “No, no, I think I screamed louder.”
“You absolutely did.”
“That feels false.”
You laugh again. And Steve’s kinda done for already.
Because you’re wearing this oversized university hoodie with your hair thrown into a messy bun that’s definitely halfway collapsed after a long day, and you scrunch your nose while you frantically gather worksheets from the floor.
Cute. Unfairly cute.
“You new here?” he asks, handing you a paper upside down.
You take it with a soft snort. “Yeah. History department.”
“Ohhh.” Steve nods seriously. “So you’re the brave soul replacing Mr. Jenkins.”
Your eyes widen slightly. “Was he awful?”
Steve winces dramatically. “He once showed a documentary from 1973 for three straight classes because he forgot where he left his lesson plans.”
You laugh so suddenly and brightly that Steve actually forgets what he was about to say next. It echoes softly through the empty hallway. Warm and easy.
God.
“Good to know the bar’s low,” you say.
Steve grins. “I’m Steve, by the way.”
You tell him your name. And maybe Steve’s imagining it, but he swears something soft shifts in your expression when he repeats it back to you.
The next morning, he sees you again immediately. Mostly because you walk directly into a classroom door. Not hard but just enough to make Steve choke on his coffee trying not to laugh.
You whip around instantly, mortified. “You saw nothing.”
“I saw a tragic betrayal by architecture.”
“You’re annoying already.”
“And yet you’re smiling.”
Your face goes pink immediately. Steve beams for the rest of first period.
After that, it starts happening constantly. Little collisions. Tiny moments. You in the teachers’ lounge muttering furiously at the copy machine while Steve tries very hard not to laugh.
Steve walking into your classroom during lunch only to find you passionately ranting to an entirely empty room about medieval political propaganda.
“You know nobody’s in here, right?”
You nearly launch your yogurt spoon across the room. “Steve!”
“What?” he laughs. “You were waving your arms around like a history wizard.”
You point the spoon at him threateningly. “The Tudor dynasty was deeply fascinating.”
“I believe you,” he says solemnly. “You looked extremely emotional about it.”
And that’s the thing. You’re quiet around most people. Shy in staff meetings. Soft-spoken around parents. Nervous when too many teachers gather in the lounge at once.
But alone with Steve? You talk. And talk. And talk.
About history. About books. About weird historical facts that apparently keep you awake at night. And Steve listens to every single word like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.
Because honestly? When you get excited, your whole face lights up.
You stop fidgeting.
Stop second-guessing yourself.
Stop shrinking.
And Steve thinks it might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
One afternoon he finds you sitting cross-legged on your classroom floor surrounded by papers.
“You alive in here?”
You look up with the exhausted expression of someone three grading assignments away from losing consciousness. “Debatable.”
Steve steps inside holding two vending machine coffees.
Your eyes immediately soften. “Oh, you’re my favourite person.”
His heart does a stupid little somersault. “Oh yeah?”
“You brought caffeine. That’s basically romance.”
Steve almost walks directly into a desk.
And then suddenly it’s the winter ball. The gymnasium glows with cheap fairy lights and crepe paper decorations while middle schoolers scream and sprint around fueled entirely by sugar and chaos.
Steve’s been assigned supervision duty near the snack table. You’re helping chaperone near the dance floor. Which mostly means repeatedly telling twelve-year-olds not to climb things.
“This feels less like education and more like wildlife management,” you mutter as Steve joins you.
“You’re doing great.”
“I just confiscated six Pixy Stix from one child.”
Steve gasps dramatically. “You monster.”
You laugh tiredly. God. There it is again. That warmth blooming in his chest every time he makes you smile.
A slow song starts playing unexpectedly. The kids immediately react with horror.
“EWWWW.”
“THIS IS GROSS.”
“WHY ARE THEY PLAYING OLD PEOPLE MUSIC?”
Steve snorts loudly. You hide your laugh behind your hand. And then without really thinking Steve holds out his hand toward you.
Your eyes widen slightly. “Oh?”
“C’mon,” he says softly. “One dance before someone throws punch at a seventh grader.”
You glance around nervously. The gym is still chaotic. Nobody’s paying attention.
Still ... “You serious?”
Steve smiles gently. “Very.”
Your face turns pink immediately. But after one tiny hesitant second you place your hand in his and Steve swears his heart physically stumbles.
He leads you behind the stage curtain where the lights are softer and the noise dulls into distant muffled music.
Private and hidden. Your hand still rests in his.
“You know,” you murmur shyly as he settles one hand carefully at your waist, “I haven’t danced with someone since high school.”
Steve grins softly. “Lucky me, then.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too hard for it to work properly. Slowly, you start swaying together beneath dim golden light while the song drifts softly through the curtain.
And Steve’s pretty sure this is what hope feels like. A shy history teacher in an oversized cardigan looking up at him like she can’t believe he’s real either.
“You smell like chalk dust,” he murmurs teasingly.
You gasp quietly. “Rude.”
“And mint.”
Your expression softens immediately. Steve’s chest tightens.
“You notice weird things,” you whisper.
“Only about you.”
The words slip out naturally. Honest. And suddenly the space between you changes. The air turns softer somehow. He watches your eyes flick briefly to his mouth. Then back up again.
Nervous an a little hopeful.
“Steve,” you whisper.
Steve’s hand tightens slightly at your waist. “Can I kiss you?”
Your breath catches. And then you give him the tiniest nod.
That’s all it takes.
Steve kisses you gently beneath the glow of cheap winter-ball lights while kids scream and laugh somewhere on the other side of the curtain. And it feels so sweet it almost hurts.
Your fingers curl softly into the front of his sweater as he kisses you carefully, like he’s scared to rush this. Like he understands that some beautiful things need patience.
When he pulls back, both of you are smiling helplessly.
“You know,” you murmur breathlessly, “this is dangerously close to feeling like an eighties movie.”
Steve grins. “Sweetheart, we literally live in the eighties.”
You laugh so hard you accidentally hide your face against his shoulder. And Steve wraps his arms around you instinctively, holding you close while fairy lights glow warmly through the curtain folds around you.
Outside your little hiding place, the gym is loud and chaotic and messy. But here in this tiny corner of warmth and music and shy laughter ... Something lovely begins.
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Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙
Summary: Steve and reader have been together for some time now. She's seen him grow and change, and she's really really proud of him for getting where he is now. Is he able to accept that?
Content: S5, Steve's parents mentioned, mostly pg but lots of innuendos, whump but also fluff!!! I love making Steve cry. I will do it again, sorry not sorry. Steve is in L-O-V-E with his girl. Set soon after the upside down is defeated, but around a year before the epilog scene.
WC: 5.6k
A/N: This may be my first fic on this new account but it is certainly not the first I've ever written. I just felt the need to re start, what better time than the new year and the new beginning (ending) of Stranger Things. I love this fandom to bits and peices and I hope that this helps you all cope lol!
April 1988
Practiced hands grip the shiny new steering wheel loosely as Steve pulls into a driveway he is all too familiar with. Only not like he used to be. It isn't high school and he's not who he once was, and he's glad.
The both of you are long over due for a little one-on-one date night, and you've chosen to stay in together.
"Steve!" You're running out the front door and squealing in excitement before he's fully reached over the seat and pushed open the passenger door for you. "This is yours?" You're barreling into the brand new leather interior and shutting the door, fingers running over everything they can reach. You were a little taken aback when he said he'd be picking you up tonight. Steve has been without his trusty ride for a little while now.
"Hey! Careful- don't slam it!" He swats your hand and you just about die when he reaches that same arm over the back of your seat and turns to back up. "Just got the thing, I need it to last." Walking to work had been a bitch. Especially since Steve still felt partial to upkeeping what was left of his reputation. Lucky for him, Hawkins is quite a walkable town, and you got to pull a roll reversal and drive him wherever when you were able.
"Bout time you got rid of that beamer anyway." Of course he hadn't willingly gotten rid of it, it only took a black hole to rip it away from him. You laughed, but it was bittersweet. Everyone else might've hated it for being a rich-boy car, but it was his and you had been grateful to receive many a ride when you needed it, just as everyone else. It got you thinking. "So two seats is a bit of a downgrade, huh?" You're still running a finger over the double-stitched seem of the soft beige leather beside your thigh.
"Eh, I thought about it but-" He sighed, holding the steering a little tighter. "Only really need two seats now." Its true, as much as you wish it wasn't. Everyone was spreading out, taking opportunities they didn't have back then, growing, learning. With graduation for the kids being only a little over a year away, it was even more real. "…I'll miss it though." It was no mystery to you, why he'd chosen the path he was content on now. Coaching and teaching and getting involved, staying in the town he used to swear he hated.
"I'd be worried if you didn't." Something you miss means it was something worth your while. Steve Harrington had a lot of regrets in life, but he would never want to have spent that time any other way. He'd do it all again a million times over.
"So you like it?" He starts. "The truck?"
He receives a confident nod. "Its beautiful, and it sounds beautiful too." You answered. "…really suits you." Not just the truck, but this look on him. New job, first house, new truck, long-term relationship and goals and plans for the future. He's thriving, and you hope he sees how accomplished he has become, and how accomplished he's going to be.
He mirrored your nod, pressing his lips together before speaking. "My dad always wanted me to go where the money was, business or law or stuff like that, but…" He was trying not to be glum, because he wasn't, he was so so grateful to be where he was right now. It showed. "Coaches salary is pretty sweet. I mean, it got me this." He gestured, one hand still on the wheel.
"It also gets you this." You reached to swipe at the upward tilted corner of his lips. He smiled harder when you did so, swatting you away again.
"Nuh uh, you get me that." He corrected, pulling into his current abode, it was nice to know someone was still close by, especially your boyfriend.
"Both is good." You're smiling too now as he cuts the engine and leans over, clashing your lips together like you have so many times before. He does it with enough fervor that for a second you think he might just christen the damn vehicle with you right now. "Hmph- you smell nice." You mumble into his mouth, pulling back. "Is this new?"
"Coaches salary." He explains with an even wider grin, pulling you into his lap, khaki pants you once said you hated, but Steve made them work, really well.
"Wait- so you're out here buying fancy cologne before the new vehicle you needed so badly?" You fight his grip a little, planning to let off once he answers.
"Bought 'em both today." He silences you with a kiss as you both meet lips again and you let up. Boy is this guy a fan of his new bench seats. He may have lost the backseat advantage, but he also lost the center console. A win is a win.
He keeps you in his arms all the way through to his bedroom. You thank the heavens every day that you no longer have to suffer that headache inducing plaid on plaid nightmare that is Mrs. Harringtons interior decorator. He's thankful too.
"Hey you decorated!" You squeal as he throws you gently onto the most soft and fluffy comforter you've ever felt. Steve had been pretty satisfied with the bachelor pad vibe he had going- even though he had a whole girlfriend. Lucky for you, the bachelor style didn't last longer than a few weeks. He had always had a plan. "Thought you might do the minimalist thing a bit longer." It went a little backwards- having to move out before getting a vehicle. But in bieng shut out on his own, Steve wouldn't accept any offers you made to help or have him move in, so the house came first. Having some leftover savings from his other jobs helped, but he mostly worked his ass off.
"Need I say it again?" He shuts the door, even though there really is no need. Independence is funny that way. "Coach…" face buried in one side of your neck. "…salary." And then the other side, licking and biting and sucking.
But money wasn't the only thing that enabled him to finally decorate and live the way he wanted. It helped to have the right support system, and he had always had that as long as he'd known you, rocky at times, but always there. What really set the ball rolling was the newfound freedom. His parents never kept a close eye on him, mostly because they weren't around to do so. But they still set a terribly high expectations towards their son. Slowly he learned how to make things his own, and it was amazing to see in real time. He could breathe now. Well- not currently as he was buried in his girlfriends neck.
"Mm- hey-" You slowly peel him off you, laying side by side on his brand new bedding. "Show me around?" You ask, even though you spent almost every day at his new place, you haven't seen it like this- in his own light.
"What?" He looks at you like your face just opened up. "Baby you've seen every angle of this place, I know because-" He feels a hand meet his mouth. Promise ring cold on his skin, also thanks to his nice job.
"We get it, you know how to get in my pants a hundred different ways in just a few weeks." You roll your eyes, only pulling the hand away when he darts his tongue out, swiping it in his habitually practiced way. "Gross."
"No- I have gotten in your pants a hundred different ways in just a few weeks," He corrects, because he's changed but he'll always be cocky. "-and you like my tongue."
"Gross again." You digress. "Steve, I haven't seen since before you decorated- I just thought you might enjoy telling me about it." He insisted on picking everything and getting it all done himself so that he could surprise you with the finished project, which also meant not coming over for a couple days. That was the worst kind of torture.
"Okay." He accepted, propping himself up on a muscular arm. "I would enjoy it." He confirmed honestly, looking around the room with pursed lips before he officially started the tour. "M'not done yet though…" He sighed, turning to face you properly. "…just bought a truck, so, funds are low." But it wasn't hard to admit. He had so much to show for it, so much to gain.
"That's okay." You smile in anticipation. "Just means I get to hear about it again, and I get to see the progress." He can't pinpoint where its attributed, but he wants to guess the 'ending' of things recently has made you rather optimistic. He feels it too, but he sees it in you. In the way your eyes have enough light for the both of you in them, the way your smile comes so naturally now. "You know…" you glanced down where his hand was tracing lines on the comforter, slowly intertwining your own, holding his focus on you now. "I used think that maybe there'd be a time when- a time that I may never get to see that, the progress."
He swallowed, blinking back his agreement with a sigh. "Yeah." He dipped his head, enclosing you under him once more- this time gentler, softer. "Glad we both made it." He pressed an equally careful kiss to your lips. "Really glad."
Your head fell back into the soft new bedding. "Mhm?" Both free hands reached for his hair as sincere brown eyes looked up at you from your chest. "Gonna show me around now?" One finger rested under his chin now, thumb swiping gently over his bottom lip. "Tell me the story about everything." You'd always loved sharing that way, and you would certainly never take it for granted. Living out both your stories together was something you thought might end much sooner- in fact you'd been so confident in it when you saw your boyfriend hang on for dear life off the side of that tower.
Steve always felt he might take one final triumphant hit for someone he loved. Maybe you, maybe his best friend- but he'd become so selfless he'd have done it for anyone now. Falling off the side of that tower for no one- no purpose, no service- was scarier than the drop. "Alright babe-" His arms swept under your waist and before you knew it he was excitedly carrying you around the place. For a moment you heard the Steve you met years ago, throwing around that pet name like it didn’t mean he was eternally whipped for you. The truth had always been ever-evident in his eyes, then and now. "Time for the Harrington tour." For the third time today you squealed at him.
"Okay, here-" He started at the front door, still holding you. "-is the portal into only the most humble abode." He ends up showcasing the very well received skill of holding your weight with one toned arm. "Simple but effective." He points each item out carefully. "Shoes go here, coats here- but there is that closet too- keys here…oh!" He stops, fishing into his pocket. "Got you something special today too," He puts you down gracefully so he can properly present it to you. If you didn't know better you'd think he was proposing, seeing the way he was beginning to kneel down.
"Steve- what are you doing?" You giggled, peering down at his clasped hands. "I thought this was a tour."
"It is," He opens his hands. "But I wanted you to have something…" He raises a decorated key-ring up to your own hand, presenting presumably a house key, another Chevy branded key, and a photo frame charm he'd carefully chosen. "I know you always knew where the spare was, at my parents place but- this is different for us." Different for him, he finally had something of his own and he chose to share it so readily with you.
"So, this one is the house-" Hot pink and bold like yourself. He stands close to you now, explaining and pointing to each component that sat in the palm of your hand. "And uh, just incase for some reason you need it… this is the second truck key the dealership gave me- I just, I realized that I didn't want it sitting in some drawer or something I wanted-" He scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "I wanted you to have it. I want us to share things." You nodded patiently with a full heart as he moved on to the keychain. "And uh, when I was getting the house key made they had these and I just thought of you, thought of exactly what two pictures would be perfect for this."
There the both of you were, inside a little double-sided plastic photo frame. The first side you look at face up in your palm is maybe the first picture you ever took together. Steve was more sentimental than he'd like to admit- you knew it because he'd been so upset about the few photos forever lost to the glove compartment of the beamer.
But this one had been in his bedside table drawer since the winter of '84, he mentally thanks Dustin every day for taking it. He's standing behind you, fixing your dress to chaperone the snow ball. It's a low quality instant photo, back when the two of you were only defined as friends and Steve was still rightfully caught up in the remnants of his last relationship. But it didn't change how fondly you remembered what he said in that moment. A casual 'stop fussing with it, you look beautiful' before asking you to stand still so he could fix it to your liking once more. He didn't want to go with you and Dustin but he was always part of the moment, you never would blame him for wanting to stay out of it that day. He showed up for what mattered, took care of you and made sure you arrived and returned safely. And he continued to look out for you more fiercely from then on with each passing day.
On the other side of the charm is a much newer photo by a few years time. You're looking at the camara and Steve is looking at you. December of '87, the Wheeler family had invited everyone to a celebratory Christmas get together. You remember it vividly now because it was only months ago. Steve telling you that it was his favourite, and Jonathan saying he was really happy with the composition, that he wanted to start a collection of 'afters'. Everyone, the whole party, after the end and during the new beginning like a sort of 'where are they now?' There, in that moment of celebration, Steve seems to only be worried about celebrating you, sharing the moment with you. Where is he now? Right where he needs- wants to be. A beginning and a newer beginning lay flat in the palm of your hand.
"…yeah, your favourite, right?" You look up at him, this time blinking back your own agreement. "Steve I-"
"-look I know that it's a lot to give you all at once, it's a lot to share. I know that," He feels the need to explain himself. "But- I want to. I'd like us to." The admission has you clutching the gift to your chest as he speaks. "And I thought since we've been together for so long now, that you deserve to have things like this." He covers your clutched hand in his own, right over your heart. "I've been in love with you for so long now. I trust you. And it's been so hard to say it just like that…" Your hands are sandwiched between eachothers chests now, Steve's thoughtful gift in the middle of it all.
"But I hope that this shows it. And I hope it shows that you can trust me too, to keep giving us things like this." He's speaking hushed now, partially because you're so close together and partially because he's a little shy to admit it, to put so much on the line. But Steve has always put everything on the line for you. Everything.
It comes so easy now, the way your lips meet his in a slow unspoken 'thank you'. Your new set of keys jingles as you throw an arm around his back. He's grown so fond of the very real future that he wants to do everything he can to ensure he keeps it, that you're there with him every step of the way. "I trust you, Stevie." You confirm, incase for some reason he had any inclination of doubt- you don't know why he ever would.
"M'glad you trust me too, with all this." Its clear that your statement isn't only limited to the house and truck- it is much much more than that. There's things the lot of you have been through and witnessed that are so unexplainable and inconsolable, with the exception of those that have been through it too. Steve has not only been there with you and alongside you, but you've seen everything- including the aftermath. Every single time. And the fact that he has had enough confidence in you that you know and have seen his struggles and keep them between the two of you, the confidence that you will know just what to do for him and just how to make it hurt less, that's trust.
He has a sort of downturned smile on his face when you let go, watching you happily stuffing the personalized gift into your coat pocket. "What, you're not gonna take that thing for a spin?" He jokes but you can feel a slight dampness on the shoulder of your shirt.
"Some other day." You decide, Steve knew you would take it for a joyride eventually, having a penchant for powerful and loud vehicles didn't just stop at muscle cars. "Let's finish the tour." You take his hand in yours and once more he shows you through the house. It's minimal for now, a few tasteful changes made to each room. But Steve has had more than a lot on his plate these days.
The front hallway has an assortment of picture frames leaning against the wall ready for new memories. The living room has gained a few tasteful throw pillows and blankets along with a coffee table. His own room is decorated with that lovely new bedding you laid on earlier, and two matching night tables. He explains each thing with enthusiasm and a little bashfullness. You don't miss the extra brand new toothbrush and holder in the bathroom that goes unmentioned, or an empty drawer that he just so happens to open up as he explains where everything came from and why he liked it for the house.
Finally he's in the kitchen, which has just gained enough plates and cups for a dozen people. "So the coach can shop and decorate… does the coach cook, too?" You ask slyly as he takes the opportunity to sit you up on the counter. A hand resting on each thigh.
You remember when the two of you used to get takeout every friday night. No Harrington parents were ever around, so naturally there was no dinner unless Steve provided for himself. Then takeout became tv dinners, which became 'just add water' pre-packaged recipes, which became real recipes and home cooked meals. Every dish he cooked was out of love. "Anything you want." He thinks if it weren't for you and the kids he would still be eating tv dinners.
You purse your lips in thought and he takes the opportunity to peck them lightly before you make a suggestion. "You remember when you first started cooking for us? You made pasta with this homemade sauce-" Simple but Steve had done it for you, and it was unapologetically your comfort dish. Which was really annoying considering he wouldn't disclose to anyone how to make the sauce. The kids had started retaliating by calling it mama Harringtons secret recipe. "Can we have that again?"
"We can have that every day." He says, already pushing off the counter and getting to work. He's forgotten to mention in his home improvement tour that there's now an apron in the building. You try not to chuckle at the slogan across the front. "I will make you all the pasta you want."
He's grabbing pots and measuring cups and ingredients and you're giggling to yourself about your beautiful boyfriend in his little apron. "Kiss the cook?" You pry, still in your spot on the counter as he turns towards the stove top and sets the water to boil. You have a great view now.
"Well if you insist." He pecks your lips again like he had just moments ago. Any effort of poking fun at his clothing choice had gone out the window. Steve was unapologetically being exactly who he wanted- and you would much rather share that energy than the teasing remark you'd just made.
"Gonna be doing a lot more than kissing the cook if you keep making delicious food just for me." You toyed with the neatly tied bow on the back of his neck, he began to flush a light pink that matched the font on his chest. You have the most evil look in your eye and he can't look away. "Might need to get a new apron…'fuck the cook'." He matches your smirk at the idea even though he's profusely blushing. Steve was often told he sported a harsh and up-front flirting game. But you were arguably just as bad if not worse.
"I'd like that." He nods curtly, trying to pay attention to the food rather than his libido. "Hey- you better not be watching too closely over there," He nods to you from the far side of the counter where he's measuring out ingredients.
"Oh I'm watching closely alright." You ogled at him and the flush only rose to his cheeks. By the time he was plating up a serving for each of you, the tips of his ears were red as the pasta sauce.
"Babe, you wanna put on a record or a tape or sumthin'?" He still manages to be sauve with his face entirely flushed by the way you've been shooting comments his way all night. "Moved it all out underneath that new coffee table but you can bring the player in here if you want."
You hop off your perch where you've been observing him. Sifting through music for a few minutes while Steve set up. There was quite a variety now, a combination of everyone he'd met these past few years. The small record collection in Steve's junior year bedroom was minimal, filled with pop radio hits and every Bob Seger album ever. You'd bought him the new release in '86 and he was so thrilled to recieve a gift that really represented him for the first time.
The collection has tripled in size after meeting you. Music has been such a huge part of Steve's life since then because it was huge part of yours. There's one tape he always hangs on to just in case, you dont know if its sweet or if he should move on- but 'Hounds of Love' is still in the original plastic wrap from the day he bought it in '86. You hope for everyone's sake that it stays that way. But the ever-prepared Steve Harrington is always ready to be there for people, and if that helps him sleep at night then Kate Bush is welcome to the music collection. You don't want to know if the nail bat is under his new bed, or perhaps tucked behind the bench seat of his new Chevy.
"You picked one yet?" Steve is setting your respective plates down, speaking just loud enough to reach the living room. You can think about that later. A few memories don't destroy the fact that Steve has come so far from who he was when he hammered the first nail into that baseball bat. So far that he was now teaching young boys- years younger than he was at the time- how to properly hold and swing a bat. Without the nails, of course. And only at the ball, not at open-faced monsters. That had been a very possible reality for a little while there.
The record player is setup on the kitchen counter playing Scorpions 'Savage Amusement' This one must've been new to the collection, you'd never seen it here before, you also hadn't gotten around to picking up their newest release so obviously you had to listen. Steve liked that about you, he liked a lot about you but anyway- he has not and will not ever meet someone who can name such a diverse amount of artists as you and still be able to discover and enjoy more. You loved it all, but you were unapologetically a rocker through and through.
"Where'd you get this one anyway?" You're scanning the album track list as you both stand in front of the player you've just set up.
"Grabbed it when I got all the other stuff." He said gently pulling you towards the table and getting your chair for you as you sat down. "Thought you might like to have something for you here." He'd already confessed to thinking of you several times while he was out, but here he was saying for the umpteenth time that another thing reminded him of his girl.
"What? I like your music." You said from across the small circular dining table.
"I know, but I like yours too, we should have more of it here." He shrugs as if it's no big deal. He went out and grabbed a new release of one of your favourite bands just to make sure you didn't have it yet and so that you could listen to it for the first time together. No big deal.
"Looks good." You gestured to the niceley presented plate infront of yourself. "I'll bring you some albums, then." But the albums were only part of it, he just liked the idea of you bieng around, a lot. "Thank you for this, I've really been missing your cooking." No time was wasted in taking the first bite.
"You're welcome babe, anytime." But 'anytime' had gotten quite sparse in his pursuit of everything else. And honestly- any free time was utilized quite lustfully. He was working hard to provide for himself and get on the path he wanted, work towards a future he would enjoy. One you could enjoy with him. So you hadn't had at-home dinner dates or any dinner dates for a while now. Of course you hadn't complained, you could entertain yourself just fine during the time apart. It was just endlessly frustrating living so close and not being able to make time between the both of you.
"Well I hope so, you did tell me I could have your special pasta every day." You reminded him.
"You don't think you'd get tired of it?" He really would make it every day if that's what you wanted.
"Maybe, but then you'd come up with something else just as good." You twisted your fork around in the noodles. "I'm not worried." Steve didn't give you a lot to be worried about these days. He was good like that.
He did some quick cleaning up afterwards, flipping the record to side B before joining you on the couch. Full of good food and true love, he pulled a new blanket over the both of you. "You don't want dessert or anything?" He inquired, already cozied into the couch next to you.
"Not now that we're both comfortable." You laughed but he propped himself up on both arms over you, ready to get up.
"No, I can get it for you," He insisted. "You sure you don't want something?"
"Lay back down" You placed a hand to his back and pushed lightly until he fell back onto your chest begruidingly. "I don't want dessert I want to lay with my guy."
"Babe are you sure-"
"Steven."
"M'kay." He said, cheek pressed into your shoulder as he got more comfortable. "As you wish." He sighed softly, warm breath hitting your collar bone. You'd felt that before, but never in a moment so innocent. You think this is your favourite.
"You've been treating me all day. Relax." Your hand drew aimlessly across his back as you assured him.
"Dinner is hardly all day." He argued without much bite.
"You've treated me to a ride in the new truck, my very own set of keys, a detailed tour of all the changes to the house, I got to watch you cook dinner for us and you even bought us a brand new album to share while we dined." You were almost out of breath after listing all the wonderful things he'd done in only a few hours. "And now, we're finishing the record while we lay together. That's the best evening a girl could ask for." Though he'd had many girls in the past still expect more, he's sure you're being honest when you say so.
"Glad you're impressed with it, thank you." He says, face pushed further into you if that was even possible.
"Impressed? Baby, I'm proud!" You exclaimed, causing him to lift his head up a little, your hand halting on his back.
"Hmm?" He squints in confusion like he heard you wrong.
"I have seen you work so hard to get all this and tonight it really shows how much all that effort paid off." You told him in the sincerest tone he might have ever heard. He may be slightly hard of hearing now days due to upside-down related events, but that was loud and clear. "You got a Job you love, your own place, and a shiny new ride in such a short span of time. And you're already planning so much further ahead talking about getting a trailer and another place and-"
"Yeah well it was about time I got my shit together." He said unimpressed.
"About time? Steve you've been doing everything for everyone and trying to live two lives and make a future for yourself, and god- I'm just proud alright?" It was hard to believe he couldn't see that in the way your face got brighter just talking about it.
"Everyone else has been living two lives too, they're in just about the same spot as me." Nothing special about it. Nothing to be proud about. But that was ridiculous considering they had someone to fall back on. Steve had fended for himself almost every step of the way. That didn't stop you from being proud of the rest of your friends too but…the difference was in who could accept it.
"Look at me." He didn't listen, staring towards the floor rather than your face. "Steve, look at me." He was facing you now, eyes focused on the wall just above your head. "…please?"
Every time you met his eyes tonight they got softer. "I'm just saying, I should have all this stuff by now anyway. If I didn't I'd be behind." There was his que to stop talking, right when the last syllable betrayed his casual confidence.
"Just listen to me, alright?" Your hand clasped his shoulder. "You have been doing for everyone else this whole time. You watch out for these kids better than most parents- which is why most of them are still here today. You became a chauffeur, an advice counselor, a best friend, what ever they needed. I saw you do it all." And then your own voice cracked just a little. "Even with no one to come home too. Even with no one watching out for you." He couldn't stop his eyes from welling up again as you spoke with such love. "For years. That's what you did every day. You made a real difference in everyone's lives, in my life too, and now you get to do that same thing as a job. Every day you work with these young kids and make an impact on their lives. I see you work so hard to provide for yourself when you shouldn't have even had to do it that way." He was flushed as bad as earlier but for a whole different, much more bittersweet reason now.
"You did this." You pressed a finger to the center of his chest. "All on your own. And I am so proud." He practically melted into you, unable to stop the tears of acceptance anymore.
It sank in as you pressed your face to his hair, mumbling. "So, so proud of you Stevie." You could feel his chest rise and fall rapidly against your own.
Something was lifted off of his shoulders, every time you repeated that you were proud it got lighter and lighter. He couldn't hold any of it in anymore. He'd set the bar so high, striving to impress people that shouldn't even matter. They hadn't helped, in fact the whole reason he had to get a place was because he'd been thrown out on his own. And he still managed to stay afloat, just barely at times.
Though tears were flowing steadily, he still spoke through sobs against your chest, wetting your shirt. "I love you." His shoulders shook.
"I love you too. And I'm proud of you, don't forget it hun." The house silenced except for Steve's stiffled cries as the last chords of 'Believe in Love' rung out from the kitchen.
Art Teacher!Reader who enjoys her job more than pretty much any other teachers at Hawkins Middle. Always dressed so colorful and fun, one of those people who are way too happy at 7:00 AM.
Steve Harrington who joined a bit late into the school year-right at the end of the second semester. His little tour of the school was given just an hour before class actually started, very last minute, but he wasn’t one to complain. “This is our art room, you’ll come here if you need any printer paper or extra markers-” Steve tried to listen as he looked into the classroom, just zoning out as he watched you standing on a chair to hang up some kind of inspirational poster on the wall. “..Should we help her?” he’d ask quietly, “Best not to, she has a system for her room..best to stay out of her hair-especially if you don’t want to deal with her endless chatter.”
Steve Harrington who ends up being called both “Mr. Steve” and “Mr. Harrington” by the end of the day-earning himself the title of “one of the cool teachers” by the students-it gave him enough confidence to find you in your room after all the students were gone.
His knuckles tapped on the door a few times as he entered, smiling as you lifted your head from your desk. He tried to seem cool and confident as he walked up to you, but how cool can he really look when he’s waltzing into a classroom like that? “Hey-Hi. I’m the new health teacher a few hallways down. I’m Steve, it’s nice to meet y-” “Hello!” You replied immediately. Unintentionally ruining his cool and suave introduction in such a sweet way that he couldn’t even be upset. “It’s nice to meet you! So many of my students have mentioned you-so nice to put a face to the name.” It was like you were just in a constant state of pure joy-like you embodied literal sunshine within your personality without trying. “I teach art and sometimes have to sub for the other teachers—you can come here if you need any sort of supplies for your classes-What do you teach?” “Just—Just Sex Ed..Sex Ed and health-” “-That’s great! Good luck, the kids can be really immature about that stuff.”
Steve who began finding all types of excuses to go to your class. Offering to run to your class when some other teacher groans about needing to go to your classroom, gravitating towards your room when he had the smallest question about an artist and then staying in your room to listen to your rant about said artist. Steve even goes as far as bribing kids with snacks to leave small things like pencil cases in her room so he can have another reason to go to her room.
Art Teacher!Reader who definitely notices that Steve is the nicest teacher in the school. He’s chatty enough to have a conversation and kind enough not to zone out when she rambles, he obviously cares deeply for all his students, he’s the first-and sometimes only-person to greet her in the teachers lounge…he’s just the sweetest!
Word Count: 340 (I will get back to my mark!!! Lol)
Summary: Steve does the best job coaching the kids and you love it!
Author’s Note: For day 6 and the prompt, ‘look at my when I’m talking to you’- for the January Jumble Scribbles Challenge, hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles thank you loves! And thank you all for reading! Much love always🩷🩷🩷 Steve’s still our fav bf and I’m loving it! Divider by @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰
Warnings: Steve being soft with the kids and flirty with you, fun and fluff
January Jumble Scribbles Masterlist
Steve throws another piece of gum in his mouth, clapping enthusiastically as Derek comes up to bat.
“Come on buddy, you got this!” he cheers.
Derek winds up and swings at the pitch. Strike one.
You’re sitting in the dugout but can still hear Derek’s grunt of frustration.
Strike two.
You see Steve’s internal battle. He wants to go to him but also give him space.
Strike three.
Derek haphazardly throws the bat to the ground and stomps into the dugout, the shine of tears evident in his eyes as he passes you.
You and Steve share a look before Steve follows Derek and kneels in front of him.
“Hey, hey,” he starts gently, trying to get Derek to focus. “It’s alright bud, you’ll get ‘em next time.”
“I suck a fat one!” Derek says angrily, wiping at his nose.
Steve sighs. “Derek.”
Derek stares at the ground, sniffling.
“Look at me when I’m taking to you,” Steve says softly.
Derek finally looks up.
“First off all, language,” Steve lightly chides, “and listen, you and I can practice this weekend. Sharpen those skills. Whaddya say?”
Derek’s face brightens and he agrees with an eager shake of his head.
“Aright. Go grab yourself a drink,” Steve says, patting him on the back.
Steve stands, locking eyes with you. He saunters over and pulls you into his arms.
“You’re so good with them,” you whisper into his neck.
“I don’t know…”
“Steve.”
You press closer and kiss his cheek and just as you’re going in for another he turns his head to find your lips.
“There’s no kissing in baseball!” Derek yells, your smile forming against Steve’s lips.
Steve pulls back reluctantly. “He’s lucky I like this job or I’d have you right here in the…”
“Steve!”
A slight tremble rushes across your skin and Steve smiles smugly as he shrugs off his coaches jacket. He drapes it over your shoulders, stepping back to admire you.
“I not cold,” you giggle.
“I know. I just love seeing you in my jacket. Later…I want you in nothing but that.”
💌 i'm just the latest in a long line of coach!harrington x reader one shots. they are all so good i need him biblically. this will have to do. a few uses of y/n but largely unlabelled. 4.4k words.
settling into hawkins hadn’t been as easy as one may think. your parents had moved here six months ago when you started your final year in college, packing up your brother and sister’s belongings into a few boxes and shuffling them across country. they hadn’t minded much and in fact, found comfort in the small town feel.
you, on the other hand, immediately struggled with the confinements of this town. everything closed by six in the evening and didn’t reopen until ten in the morning, and everyone here acted like this town was idyllic. in truth, you had asked around about this town and not one person had left a glowing review.
from missing children to mall fires and earthquakes - which didn’t make much sense to you - the facade of happiness seemed to be just that; a facade.
your brother, now fourteen, had called you at college several times to update you on his baseball try-outs. and now, here you were, watching him play with the kids who, admittedly, were a little better than him. max had boasted and bragged about his coach, who also happened to be his sex education teacher, so much that even your sister was fed up. at sixteen, she was bound to take a liking to anyone half attractive, but her crush on coach harrington had been short lived once her brother joined the baseball team.
“he’s cute,” charlotte shrugged, sitting on her hands as she watched her brother play his turn. “but so overrated. i mean, everyone has a crush on him now. he’s not… niche.”
“ah,” you smiled, nudging her shoulder. “you mean, he has too many people to pay attention to and can’t strike up a love affair with you?”
she groaned, rolling her eyes. “shut up! i have not thought about that!”
you laughed, your parents laughed, but nothing could have prepared you for what coach harrington actually had to offer. there were two coaches on this field and neither of them you could make out particularly well. one had dark hair - that much you could see - and the other had blonde… grey? you narrowed your eyes; the light here too much.
“which one is max’s coach?” you asked charlotte, who pointed to him. you hummed thoughtfully, not being able to pick out any physical trait other than his dark hair. “is he your sex ed teacher too?”
“gross,” charlotte mumbled but nodded. ah. so they didn’t get split up into their sex groups anymore. how embarrassing it must be for them…
“well, my sex ed teacher was this old woman. awful and rude and so crude! at least people like coach harrington.” you shrugged, looking back up as max took his swing. his contribution to his team was actually pretty epic, the ball flying over the heads of the other players, but shortly after, the whistle blew.
your parents stood and ushered for you and charlotte to follow.
“where are we going?” you asked, hand on charlotte’s shoulder so she didn’t get lost in the crowd. your relationship had been a bit bumpy over your separate teenage years, but being away so much taught charlotte just how cool you were.
“to thank the coach.” your mom responded, looking over her shoulder at you.
“don’t” your dad put his hand up in defeat. “i know. but i think your mother has a crush on coach harrington, too.”
“gross!” you and charlotte exclaimed at the same time, and your mother rolled her eyes, insisting coach harrington had done a lot for max since he joined the team.
you followed your parents through the crowd, max sprinting over to coach harrington with a grin.
“amazing, buddy! look at you go! that ball went flying!” his hand squeezed max’s shoulder, and the team around max congratulated him on his best hit all season. “next time, relax your shoulders a little more.” steve demonstrated, relaxing his own. “it’ll help your aim. but we’ll focus on that next practice. good job!”
“thanks, coach!” max grinned up at him before they high-fived. “mom, dad! did you see that?!” max cheered as the four of you walked over, and your parents eagerly nodded. “jack said by the end of the season, i’ll be the best player!”
“oh, don’t we know it, honey!” your mom smiled, pressing an embarrassing kiss to the top of his head. your father and sister congratulated max on his game and you nodded along as your mom made small talk with coach harrington.
now you were able to understand why everyone had a crush on him; students and parents alike. even under his hat, his hair was fluffy and thick, his eyes brown and gentle and that smile… that damn smile.
“you must be the cool, older sister i’ve heard so much about.” steve smiled, extending his hand, and you could have tripped on your own feet despite standing still.
your hand extended and shook his, offering your name.
“ah, of course. i’m steve. well, coach harrington. mr harrington. whatever.” he smiled bashfully, his hand that shook yours now playing with his hat as the sunlight cast down on him.
“charlotte mentioned you’re also the sex ed teacher. one hell of a gig.” you teased, and he laughed with a nod.
“i know, right? but it’s a package deal.” he shrugged.
your mom smiled but quickly interjected. “i thought it was best you finally meet - y/n will be taking care of max and charlotte while we are away.”
“oh,” steve nodded, hands now planted firmly on his hips. “going anywhere nice?”
“if you call a funeral for a douchebag uncle nice,” your father sighed. “give me a reason not to go, coach. break my leg.”
your family laughed, and steve grinned as if he thrived off of this sort of attention. the sparkle in his eye confirmed your suspicions.
“wish i could, derek, but it’d be against the coach code.” just then, another mother placed her hand on steve’s shoulder and he looked over, smiling at her, before turning back to your family. “sorry. thanks for coming to support max. he’s going to be one of our best.” steve patted max’s back before pointing to charlotte. “and you - i’ll see you in class tomorrow.” steve put on his teacher voice but quickly smiled, which charlotte returned.
he said goodbye to your parents, telling them it was good to see them again, before looking to you and extending his hand once more. “nice to meet you, y/n.” you took his hand and he instantly gave it a soft squeeze that had your heart reaching your throat.
“yeah, you too.” you smiled, reciprocating his, as he stepped away and spoke to this other family.
you all left soon after that, getting celebatory milkshakes from the diner on the way home. the house still felt off to you - slightly creepy, but mainly lonely. your family had all been out this morning at work, with friends or at practice, and it felt dreadful being in that house alone.
maybe once you were settled it would feel more like home, but for now, you were unconvinced.
“see why everyone likes him?” charlotte asked as you all got home, closing the door behind you.
you nod and hum quietly. “i can see the appeal. has he always lived in hawkins?”
charlotte nodded. “apparently he was the king of the school in like… eighty-four, or something.”
“not long out school himself, then.” you comment absentmindedly, and charlotte nodded.
“probably around your age. why? you gonna ask him out?” she teased.
“what, and take him away from you and all the other barely-pubescent children?” charlotte’s eyes narrowed at teh description, but you smiled. “course not. i’m not interested. i’m too busy.”
that had always been your claim. first it was too busy in school, then at work, now with college. there was always an excuse not to get attached to someone, and charlotte was at the age now where she understood that, but didn’t push it like most sisters probably would.
but as fate would have it, the next day as you watched some trashy television show, the landline rang. with a loud groan, you reached over and answered with a polite greeting, the voice on the other line clearly not expecting anyone to pick up so fast.
“oh, hello, this is susan vickery calling from hawkins high.”
“is everything okay?” you asked, and the woman on the other end of the line huffed.
“everything is fine. but there has been an issue with charlotte’s behaviour today and her teacher would like you to stop by after school and speak about it.”
“her… behaviour? charlotte?” you asked, shocked.
“yes, yes. we are as surprised as you.” susan spoke, flipping the page of something. “when you get here, please come and see us to sign in and someone will take you to her teacher.”
“okay, yeah. alright. thanks.”
you couldn’t focus on your trashy television show, then. hours ticked by slow until it was finally time to head down to the school, and you sign in with susan, who is apologetic about calling you in.
“i’ll take you to-”
“that’s quite alright, susan.” steve’s voice came from behind you, flashing you a small smile before looking back to the receptionist. “i can take it from here, thank you.” he looked back to you, extending his hand again for a shake.
he was dressed much different today, having abandoned the coaching kit for a professional suit. though his blazer was on, you could tell his sleeves were rolled up underneath, and for a moment, you forgot his hand was outstretched for yours.
you move quickly, shaking his hand. “do you know where charlotte is? i was told there was an issue.”
steve nodded and gestured for you to follow him. “yeah. it wasn’t a call we wanted to make, believe me.”
“what happened? charlotte’s so…”
“good? i know. the perfect student, usually. i never normally have a problem with her.”
“wait, it was your class?” you turn the corner, following steve down to, you assumed, his office.
steve nodded, and down the hall, charlotte raised her head, sighing as she spotted you. “it was. but we’ll discuss it inside.”
the pair of you walked further down the hall, and steve, with his hands now in his pockets, pursed his lips as he looked down at charlotte.
charlotte wanted to die. not because her cute sex ed teacher had told her off, or was about to have a ‘serious’ conversation with her sister who was never home, but because of that look. she had never seen him look disappointed before, and it made her feel like a little girl again.
“i’ll give you a moment,” he told you, quietly slipping into his office and pushing the door over.
you look down to charlotte, whose hands were in her lap, and you sighed quietly. “what’s going on?”
“it was a total overreaction. swear.”
that being her only explanation wasn’t much of a comfort to you, and you shook your head. “come on.”
“no,” charlotte leaned back in the chair now. “he already told me off. he just has to report it to you. i don’t need to hear it again.”
you were about to argue when you hear steve’s voice from inside the office. “it’s alright, miss l/n. charlotte can wait outside.”
your eyes remain on your sister for a moment longer before you join steve in the office, closing the door. you looked around, spotting all of the trophies the school had won, or pictures of the team. it all felt very impersonal.
“you can sit,” steve gestured to the seat opposite his desk. when you did, he leaned forward, hands cupped on his desk. “i’m not sure if you remember how in detail sex ed classes can get-”
“i do. we don’t… need to go over that.” you wave him off, and he nodded.
“okay. well… to put it bluntly, are you aware charlotte is, uh.” his nervousness surrounding the topic made you uneasy, and he cleared his throat. “sorry. this is just as awkward to say as her teacher as it’ll probably be for you to hear.” he chuckled nervously, shaking his head and sitting up straighter.
“did something happen? did she say something to you?”
“no, not to me.” he clarified, and you groaned quietly. “you know?”
“i mean, yeah. she told me, but it’s not just her, they all say it.”
“that’s incredibly concerning…” steve muttered, sinking into his chair a little.
“not really. surely you’re used to it?” his face twisted into horror. “i mean, basically every teenage girl goes through the same thing. it’s the hormones.”
“what?”
“in her defence, if you had been my sex ed teacher, i probably would have had a crush on you too.” you shrugged casually, and steve’s eyebrows reach space.
“you think i called you in here because charlotte has a crush?”
“on you.”
“on me?” you nodded, and he let air blow from between his lips. “no. no, that’s, no. not why i called you in here. can’t say i’m shocked about that, though.” steve wanted to laugh, and a small chuckle did fall from his lips, but when he noticed the look on your face, he straightened up again. “look, miss l/n-”
“y/n.”
“no, really, miss l/n. gotta be professional for this.” he informed you, gesturing to the pen and paper on his desk. what was he recording? “are you, or your parents, aware that charlotte is sexually active?”
the silence that filled the room after that was deafening. the clock ticked, the copier in the corner copied, and the world spun.
“what?” you asked, laughing seconds later. “she’s not. no, she’s… what?”
steve sighed and nodded, picking up the pen. “yes. well, according to what she shared with her friends in class, yes.”
“wh- in class? what did she say?”
steve cleared his throat and looked down at his notes from when he had spoken with charlotte. “well… and i need to clarify, i did hear this myself.” you nod. “according to charlotte, she’s been having sex with some guy named gerrard. she assured me he’s her age but there is no one in this school called gerrard. well, there’s a couple, but they’re eleven.”
“gerrard?” steve nodded now. “okay. what’s she saying about gerrard?”
“god, don’t make me say it.” he groaned, then remembered he was a professional. he had to, because these were his kids too. “she told her friends that they’ve been having sex for nearly a year, and that he never uses a condom.”
“gross!” you covered your face, hating the idea of your baby sister being that vulnerable with someone. “jesus. i don’t believe it.”
“now, this is what our classes are for. to discuss the importance of these things and educate the children, obviously, but her crude language was very alarming. this isn’t the charlotte we know here.”
“yeah, nor me.” you assured, sighing. “jesus christ…” you whisper into the air, looking around the room. you looked back to steve, noting the hint of pink on his cheeks, but you were sure yours were more red than his. “okay. uh… i’ll talk to her. i’m so sorry she’s… saying this stuff. so gross.”
steve smiled a little, making a few notes on the paper before placing the pen down. “permission to offer my opinion?? off the record.” you nod and he sat forwards again. “charlotte is a very shy girl. i’m not saying it’s impossible that this is happening, but someone at home would have some idea, and i get the feeling you’re an open family. if your parents suspected something, they’d talk to her, or ask you to talk to her. so… perhaps it isn’t true.”
“i hope so.”
“believe me, i’ve seen it. kids hear their friends knowing things about sex and panic that they’re left behind, so they make things up for shock factor. i remember lying about my first time.”
“yeah, and me.” you chuckled a little, shaking your head. “godddd, my baby sister, though?” steve offered you a sympathetic smile. “have you got any siblings? any advice?”
“nope. only child.”
“lucky bastard.”
steve laughed softly, opening his drawer and pulling his card out, handing it to you from across the table. “if she is telling the truth and you’re worried about her - you know, contraception, abuse, whatever-”
“woah, abuse?”
“just covering my bases. if you’re worried about anything, or have any questions about what to do next, give me a call. i can point you in the right direction.”
you look down to the card between his fingers and nod, taking it. “thanks, ste-mr harrington.”
steve smiled and nodded. “of course. i’m sorry we had to call you in for this.” he stood, walking you out of his office. “charlotte - don’t forget the homework. i’m expecting at least b grade material.”
charlotte looked up and nodded, sheepishly looking away when you told her you were leaving.
“thank you - and sorry again, mr harrington. won’t happen again” you promise him, holding up his card with a small smile as you walked away.
back at your house, you force charlotte to sit on the couch. you knew max was out with friends, so now was the perfect time. and thankfully, it didn’t take long for charlotte to crack and reveal it was all a lie she got too far deep into telling. she even showed you the tape of the movie the plot originally came from, though she had embellished for dramatic effect.
steve was right. her fear of being left behind, of being the last girl to have sex in her grade, made her lie. but you were just thankful you didn’t have to talk to her about it more, or inform your parents that charlotte was sexually active. at least now, you could just tell them it was all a lie. a misunderstanding.
you hoped charlotte wasn’t lying to you just to get you off her back so she could stay over at tara’s tonight. but you weren’t too worried, dropping her off at her friend’s house and returning to a lonely place yourself.
you ordered a pizza, had a few drinks, yet it still felt too empty.
steve’s card lay on the table by your glass, condensation dripping beside it onto the table as you leaned forward and picked it up, deciding to call him.
“hello?”
“hi, is that mr harrington?”
“yeah, speaking.”
“it’s miss l.n.” you could hear the smile on his face, but he quickly cleared his throat. “i just wanted to let you know, you were right. it was all a lie. in fact, i just watched the movie gerrard is in, and if anything, she ought to get into creative writing.”
steve laughed a little, shaking his head. “good to know. i’m glad she’s uh, y’know.” he didn’t really know what to say, but hoped you knew he was rooting for charlotte to not be in a dangerous situation.
“yeah. thanks. sorry if i interruped anything.”
“no, no. you’re fine. i’m just grading some papers.” he clarified, sipping his own drink. “for future, is this the best number to call you on if there are any issues? i can make sure the school have an up to date record.”
his voice was smooth like butter, and it made the heat in your stomach pool. “uh, yeah. this is where they called me earlier.”
“perfect.” he smiled, clearing his throat again. “okay, miss l/n, i should let you go. thanks so much for keeping me in the loop.”
you nod, to yourself, before answering. “yeah, no problem. have a good night.”
he returned your wish, before you both hung up. you stood, picking up your glass, deciding to head to bed, when the phone rang again. you leaned down to pick it up. “hello?” you asked softly, brows furrowed.
“hi, y/n, it’s steve.” his voice was much lighter now, less professional.
“uh, hi.”
steve laughed quietly, rubbing a hand down his face. “yeah. me again.” he commented quietly, and you waited for him to follow up. “do you wanna come over?”
now your eyebrows shot up to space, and you looked around your living room. “uh, come over?”
“yeah. this isn’t a professional call.”
you smile a little, but shake your head. “i can’t. the kids are out and if they need me, they know to call me here.”
“oh…” steve spoke quietly, nodding his head. “yeah, course. sorry. ignore me.” he instantly backtracked, fearing he may have overstepped.
“no - no, but uh, you could come here. i mean, if you want. besides, this place is kinda creepy.”
“creepy, and you’re inviting me?” he chuckled. “it’s almost like you know i’m used to creepy places.”
“hey?” you asked, confused, and he laughed again.
“nevermind. i’ll tell you about it sometime. where are you?”
you told him the address and within thirty minutes, steve’s car was parked outside your house, and he was on our couch, drinking the only glass of red wine he would have. responsible. you liked it.
he didn’t quite tell you about why he was used to creepy places, but he vaguely mentioned his teen years were full of drama, and now he was in a job that he loved, but contained the level of drama he should have been dealing with back then. he spoke about his job with such fondness, such love for those children, that it made you want to scream.
“what about you? what’re you studying? hell, where are you studying?” he asked, and after you informed him, he grinned. “yeah?” you nodded, sipping your wine. “i can picture you doin’ that. yeah.”
the look in his eye was dangerous; one that made your stomach do cartwheels and made your head fuzzy. it definitely wasn’t the wine.
“i’m looking forward to graduating. honestly, i haven’t enjoyed college much. i’m a homebody.”
“yeah, me too.” steve agreed, “all my friends moved away, got jobs, went to college. and i love my job more than anything, but if i didn’t, i’d be back in retail, still living in hawkins. i don’t know that i have a life outside of this town, as depressing as that sounds.”
“nah, i get it.” you shrugged, placing your glass on the table and shifting to look at him better. your elbow rested against the back of the couch, and your head in your hand. “no shame in it. if you’re happy here, that’s all that matters.”
steve nodded. “and i have big plans, you know. when the time is right. a wife, kids, a dog in the yard.” he grinned to himself as he stared at the carpet, almost imagining it. he looked back to you and noticed the softness on your face. was it pity? “sorry. so weird for me to say that to someone who barely knows me.”
he chuckled sadly and you shook your head. “no, no, not at all. i mean… isn’t that the dream? maybe it’s just us.” you smiled at him, and his stomach flipped too.
“yeah, maybe. that’s not so bad. you seem cool, i mean.”
“cool? twice you’ve called me that.”
“max really loves you. and charlotte… is a teenage girl. but she talks about you.”
“yeah?” you smiled, and he nodded quickly. “what does she say?”
“she says… that she wishes you were around more. but that there’s no cute guys in hawkins for you to date.”
you laughed, head still in your hand. “not an issue. i don’t really date.”
“she also mentioned that. a couple times, actually. like you were committing a crime.”
“jesus. sorry. she sounds like hell.”
“nah, she’s a good kid. they both are. i’m lucky to teach them both.” he shifted a little closer to you on the couch, his hand ever so slowly moving until his fingers brushed against your knee closest to him. “‘m glad i’ve finally been able to meet the person they talk so much about.”
you smiled a little, a quiet heat rushing to your cheeks. “yeah?”
“yeah…” steve spoke softly, eyes focused on yours. “you’re pretty cool.”
you pursed your lips for a moment, biting your tongue, but your tongue won. “so are you, mr harrington.”
“oh,” steve laughed quietly. “yeah? you into that, or something?”
you couldn't help but laugh along with him for a moment and shrug, trying to act cool and calm when you were anything but. “doesn’t hurt.”
“well…” he smiled a little, index finger now tracing patterns on your knee. “if you don’t date… but like the teacher look…” he shrugged. “does that mean i have a fifty percent chance of getting a date from you while you’re in town?”
a smile spread across your lips at that. god. this was why everyone and their mother - literally - had a crush on him. you hummed quietly in agreement, and he smiled. “perfect. so if i said enzo’s at seven tomorrow…?”
“i’d say there’s a fifty percent chance i’ll be there.” you play along for a moment, and he chuckled, but you could tell he needed the confirmation. not only was it expected in any situation anyway, but there was a pull in his eyes that made you wonder if people often played with his time. “i’ll be there.” you confirmed, fingers shifting to run over his knuckles.
steve smiled, his eyes glancing down to your fingers as they traced along his knuckles, and he knew he was done for. “perfect,” he spoke quietly, looking back up to you. “i look forward to it. wear something nice.” he smiled and stood, leaning down to press a kiss to your head before he walked over to the front door.
“wha- you’re leaving now?”
steve turned, hand on the doorknob and flashed you a smile. “i gotta find something to wear.” he joked. he would wear what he wore for most days at work - a nice suit. “besides, if i stay, i might tell you all my secrets. gotta save some for the date.”
you laughed a little, still sat on the couch watching him. “okay. i’ll see you at seven, then.”
“see you at seven, pretty girl.” he said goodbye before swiftly leaving, getting in his car and driving back too his house.
you laughed quietly to yourself before collecting the wine glasses and washing them up, slowly walking upstairs to your bedroom. you had less than twenty-four hours to go, but you couldn’t wait. you knew charlotte would have something to say about it - she always did.
but little did you know, charlotte sat with tara and her friends now, telling them all about how she purposely got in trouble so mr harrington would have a reason to speak to you, and you had fallen for it too.
