Can i get a Caramel slice + milkshake + sugar cookies
As clingy and touchy best friends who think it's casual..
Thank uuu
Order up!
Thank you for visiting!
IT'S NOT WEIRD
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader Summary: You and your best friend Steve were attached to the hip, it was a normal thing, so why did everyone say differently? and why did the idea give you butterflies? Warnings: pure fluff, mention of kissing.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
Navigation │ Asks
3K BAKERY
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
You didn’t remember when it started.
At some point, it just became normal.
Steve’s hand found yours in the middle of a conversation. Your head dropped onto his shoulder without asking. His fingers traced lazy patterns over your arm while you both half-watched a movie you had already seen a hundred times.
You sat so close your knees pressed together like there was not enough space in the whole world unless you were touching.
No one questioned it at first. Why would they? You were best friends. That was what best friends did… right?
Except, apparently, not like this.
"Okay, I am just going to say it."
You barely looked up from where you were tucked into Steve’s side on the Wheeler’s couch, his arm slung around your shoulders, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his sleeve.
Dustin stood in front of you, hands on his hips, deeply serious.
"You guys are weird."
Steve scoffed. "We are not weird."
"You are holding hands."
You blinked. Looked down.
Oh.
You were.
Your fingers were laced together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"So?" Steve said, squeezing your hand like he was proving a point. "Friends hold hands."
"No, they do not," Mike said from the floor.
"They can," you added, a little defensive, though your voice came out softer than you meant it to.
Max raised an eyebrow. "Do you also sit in each other’s laps as friends? Or is that, like, a special edition thing?"
Steve did not even hesitate. "Sometimes there is not enough space."
"There is literally an entire empty chair right there," Lucas pointed out.
You opened your mouth to argue, then paused.
Because
Because you were sitting halfway in Steve’s lap.
And his hand was resting on your thigh like it had every right to be there.
And suddenly, with everyone staring at you, it did not feel invisible anymore.
It felt noticeable.
Warm.
Too warm.
"You think we are weird?"
You asked it later, when it was just the two of you again.
Steve was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting comfortably over yours in the center console like it always did.
He glanced at you. "No."
"Dustin thinks we are weird."
"Dustin also thought he could build a radio tower in a junkyard," Steve said. "I am not exactly taking his word as law."
You smiled a little, but it did not quite settle the strange flutter in your chest.
Your eyes dropped to your hands again.
Still intertwined.
Still easy.
Still different, now that you were thinking about it.
"Do you think," you started slowly, "that we are, I do not know, more affectionate than other friends?"
Steve shrugged, thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. "Maybe. But that is just us."
Just us.
The words should have been comforting.
They were comforting.
So why did your stomach flip at them?
You tried not to think about it.
You really did.
But once someone pointed something out, it was hard to unsee it.
Every touch started to feel louder.
Every casual lean, every brush of fingers, every time Steve pulled you closer like it was instinct
It all had this new weight to it.
And worst of all?
You started noticing how it made you feel.
The warmth.
The little sparks.
The way your heart skipped when he smiled at you a certain way.
The way your chest tightened when he was not touching you.
Butterflies.
Actual, ridiculous, cliché butterflies.
And you did not know what to do with them.
At the arcade, you leaned against Steve while he played, your arms loosely around his middle.
"Supportive girlfriend energy," Max said, walking by.
You did not even look away. "I am just emotionally invested."
Steve smirked. "She is my good luck charm."
Max raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh."
At the diner, your foot hooked around his under the table, absentminded, familiar.
Robin kicked both of you. "Separate."
You blinked. "We are separate."
"You are literally tangled."
Steve glanced down. "Oh."
Neither of you moved.
In his car, your head rested on his shoulder at a red light.
A guy in the next car honked and gave Steve a thumbs up.
Steve just nodded back.
You did not even question it.
It never felt weird.
Not to you.
Not to him.
That was the strangest part.
No matter how many times someone pointed it out, no matter how many looks you got, it never shifted into something awkward or wrong.
It just was.
Like gravity.
Like habit.
Like something you stopped noticing a long time ago.
It was quiet.
No one else was around.
Just you and Steve in his room, late afternoon sunlight spilling through the window. You were lying on your stomach across his bed, flipping through a magazine you were not really reading.
Steve was sitting beside you, one hand resting lazily on your ankle, thumb brushing back and forth without thinking.
It was the kind of touch he did all the time.
The kind you had never questioned.
But that day
You felt it.
Really felt it.
The slow, absent motion.
The warmth of his hand.
The way your stomach did a small, strange flip.
You paused.
"Hey," you said.
"Yeah?" he answered, not looking up from whatever he was fiddling with.
You hesitated.
Not because it felt wrong.
But because it suddenly felt important.
"Why do we do this?"
That got his attention.
He looked up. "Do what?"
You gestured vaguely between you. "This. The touching. All the time."
He blinked, like the question did not quite land at first.
Then he glanced down at his hand on your leg.
"Oh."
A beat.
"I do not know," he said honestly. "We always have."
"Yeah, but why?"
He shrugged a little. "Because I like it?"
The answer was so simple it caught you off guard.
You rolled onto your side, propping your head up so you could see him properly.
"You do?"
"Yeah," he said, like it was obvious. "Do not you?"
You opened your mouth.
Paused.
Because the answer was immediate.
"Yeah," you admitted softly. "I do."
There was a quiet moment.
Not awkward.
Just thoughtful.
Steve’s hand was still on your leg.
He had not moved it.
Neither had you.
"Everyone keeps saying it is weird," you added.
"Everyone says a lot of things," he replied.
You huffed a small laugh. "That is not helpful."
He smiled a little. "Okay. Then does it feel weird to you?"
You thought about it.
Really thought.
All those moments.
All that closeness.
All that ease.
You shook your head. "No."
"Me neither."
Another pause.
The sunlight shifted slightly across the bed.
Your fingers drifted toward his without you fully deciding to do it.
They brushed.
Then settled.
Natural.
Familiar.
But
There was that feeling again.
That small, fluttery something.
You glanced down at your hands.
Then back up at him.
"Do you think it means something?" you asked.
Steve tilted his head. "Like what?"
You shrugged, suddenly a little shy. "I do not know. Just something more than what we thought."
He did not answer right away.
He just watched you.
Really watched you.
And there was something new in his expression.
Not unfamiliar.
Just deeper.
"Do you want it to mean something?" he asked.
Your heart skipped.
You had not thought about it like that.
Or maybe you had.
Just not out loud.
"Maybe," you said.
It came out softer than you expected.
Honest.
Steve nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Okay.
That was it.
Not dramatic.
Not overwhelming.
Just okay.
Neither of you pulled away.
If anything
You drifted a little closer.
Like you always did.
Only now you were aware of it.
Aware of the space closing.
Aware of the way your breath slowed slightly.
Aware of the way his thumb traced lightly over your knuckles.
"Do you, well, I do not know, you want to test it out?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper.
"Test what out?" you tilted your head hesitantly.
He shrugged. "If you, if we could be something more?"
You gaped for a brief moment, mouth slightly open as the air in the room went thick. You blinked.
"What would we, how?"
His eyes drifted from yours to fall to your lips, staying there for a moment before he licked his own, his gaze flicking back up to search your face.
"I think there is one way to see, really."
Oh.
You nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Yeah?"
You nodded again. "Yeah."
He paused, shifting just a little closer before bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek.
His palm was warm, soft against your skin, fitting perfectly with his thumb resting on the apple of your cheek.
Then he leaned in slowly.
Not dramatic.
Not like in the movies.
Just careful.
Like he was giving you every chance to change your mind.
You did not.
You did not even think about it.
You just stayed there, watching him get closer, your breath catching a little as the space between you disappeared.
There was a split second right before
Where everything went very, very quiet.
And in that quiet, your brain did one last, strange thing.
This was Steve.
Not a stranger.
Not some mystery.
Just Steve.
Your Steve.
The one who held your hand without thinking.
The one who let you steal his fries.
The one who looked at you like you were the easiest thing in the world to understand.
And somehow that made it feel less scary.
Not more.
Then his lips touched yours.
And
Oh.
Oh.
That was
You did not even have the word for it right away.
Because it was not overwhelming.
It was not fireworks exploding or anything dramatic like that.
It was soft.
Warm.
Familiar in a way that did not make sense, like your body recognized it before your brain caught up.
His lips were gentle, a little tentative at first, like he was still checking if this was okay even though you were already leaning into it.
And you did lean in.
Without thinking.
Like it was the most natural response in the world.
Your hand tightened in his, grounding you, but also pulling you closer at the same time.
You noticed little things.
Small, specific things.
The way his bottom lip was softer than you expected.
The faint taste of something sweet, probably the candy he grabbed earlier, mixed with something that was just him. Warm and clean and familiar in a way you could not quite explain.
His breath brushed your cheek.
His thumb shifted slightly against your hand.
And that feeling
That fluttery, low, spreading warmth
It was not just in your stomach anymore.
It was everywhere.
Your brain tried to keep up.
We are kissing.
I am kissing Steve.
Why did this feel like you had done this a hundred times?
Because it did.
That was the strangest part.
It did not feel like stepping into something new.
It felt like crossing a line that was already there.
Like all those touches, holding hands, leaning into him, the way he always pulled you closer
They had been leading here the whole time.
You just did not realize it.
He shifted slightly, barely, but enough to deepen the kiss just a little.
Still soft.
Still careful.
But less unsure.
And your heart did that stupid, swooping thing in your chest.
You responded without thinking, your free hand coming up to his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt just to hold onto something.
Because suddenly you wanted to be closer.
Closer than you already were.
Which was saying something.
When you finally pulled back, it was not abrupt.
It was slow.
Like neither of you was in a rush to end it.
Your lips brushed once more before you separated, and even that tiny movement sent another wave of warmth through you.
You stayed close.
Foreheads almost touching.
Breathing the same air.
And for a second, you just looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Like you were seeing him and recognizing him at the same time.
"Oh," you whispered.
It was the only word that fit.
Steve let out a quiet, slightly breathless laugh.
"Yeah," he murmured.
His thumb was still tracing slow circles against your hand.
Like nothing had changed.
Except now
When you looked at his lips again
You knew what they felt like.
Soft.
Warm.
Familiar.
Yours.
And the butterflies did not settle.
They just shifted.
Deeper.
Steadier.
Like they had found a place to stay.
"Okay," he smiled, his head tilting in a way that told you he had made up his mind.
You matched his grin.
"Alright."
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
