Summary: Steve discovers that if he plays with your hair for long enough, you will fall asleep on him every single time.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, sleepy affection, domestic intimacy, kissing, touch-starved steve harrington, comfort fic (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 1.2k
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
You’re both sprawled across his couch after a movie, the living room lit only by the television and the warm orange lamp beside the window. Rain taps softly against the glass while some terrible late-night advert mutters quietly in the background now that the film’s ended.
You’re tucked against his side beneath one of his old blankets, half talking about something Robin said earlier while Steve absentmindedly plays with your hair.
Not even consciously, really.
Just something his hands started doing at some point during the relationship and never stopped.
Twisting soft strands around his fingers. Scratching lightly against your scalp. Pushing hair back away from your face whenever it falls forward.
Steve likes touching you. This is not exactly new information.
What is new is the fact your voice suddenly cuts off halfway through a sentence.
Steve glances down.
You’re asleep.
Completely asleep.
Mouth slightly parted against his shoulder, breathing slow and even, one hand still loosely curled in the fabric of his t-shirt.
Steve blinks once.
“…seriously?”
You do not respond, mostly because you are unconscious.
Steve stares at you for another few seconds before looking down at his hand still buried in your hair.
Interesting.
The second time it happens, he starts suspecting a pattern.
You’re sitting between his legs on the floor of his bedroom while he half watches a movie over your shoulder and half messes with your hair mindlessly. You’d insisted you weren’t tired less than ten minutes earlier.
“You literally slept till eleven,” Steve reminds you while separating sections of your hair carefully.
“I know,” you mumble. “That’s why I’m not tired.”
“Hm.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Steve grins slightly to himself before dragging his nails lightly across your scalp again.
Your shoulders loosen immediately.
Another few minutes pass.
Then, nothing.
No response to his last comment. No movement either.
Steve leans slightly sideways to look at your face properly.
Dead asleep.
Again.
Still sitting upright between his legs.
Steve laughs so suddenly he nearly wakes you back up.
“Oh my god,” he mutters quietly.
By the fourth or fifth occurrence, it becomes less of a coincidence and more of a genuinely ridiculous amount of power for one person to hold.
Especially because Steve starts testing it.
Not maliciously.
Scientifically.
“You’re doing it on purpose now,” you mumble one afternoon, already sounding half asleep despite having argued thirty seconds earlier that you were “definitely awake.”
Steve, stretched out beside you on his bed, continues scratching softly through your hair with an expression of complete innocence.
“Doing what?”
“The hair thing.”
“What hair thing?”
“The…” You frown weakly. “The sleepy thing.”
Steve bites the inside of his cheek hard trying not to laugh.
Because it really is absurd.
You could be fully awake, actively talking, even complaining about not being tired at all, and within ten minutes of Steve touching your hair for long enough you’re suddenly fighting for your life trying to keep your eyes open.
“You’re being dramatic,” he says.
You squint at him suspiciously through obvious exhaustion. “You’re evil.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re like…” Another yawn interrupts you completely. “Like a tranquiliser gun.”
Steve loses it completely at that.
You fall asleep less than five minutes later with your face squashed into his chest while he quietly laughs into your hair.
After that, it becomes sort of unavoidable.
Steve starts noticing all the tiny signs before you even realise you’re tired.
The slower blinking. The way your body gradually gets heavier against him. The increasingly delayed responses during conversations.
And every single time, without fail, the second his fingers slide into your hair properly, you melt.
On the couch.
In bed.
Once in the passenger seat of his car while he waited for Robin to come out of Family Video after locking up.
Another time at the Wheeler’s house with your head in his lap while everyone else argued loudly over a board game around you.
“You cannot be serious,” Dustin says, staring at your sleeping form in disbelief. “How does she keep doing that?”
Steve barely looks up from where he’s still lazily playing with your hair. “Doing what?”
“She was literally talking.”
“Yeah?”
“And now she’s unconscious.”
Steve shrugs like this is completely normal behaviour.
Robin narrows her eyes immediately from the opposite couch.
“Oh, this is definitely psychological.”
Steve scoffs. “What does that even mean?”
“She’s associated you with sleep now.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is,” Robin says. “You Pavlov’d your girlfriend.”
“I did not Pavlov my girlfriend.”
“You basically turned yourself into a human melatonin gummy.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but his hand never stops moving gently through your hair.
Mostly because Robin’s not entirely wrong.
There’s something about the trust of it that affects him more than he expects. The fact you fall asleep so easily against him. The way your whole body relaxes the second he touches you softly enough.
Like some part of you recognises him as safe before you even consciously think about it.
That part gets to him a little if he thinks about it too long.
Which is why he tries not to.
Unfortunately for him, you make this extremely difficult one rainy afternoon a few weeks later.
You’re both curled together in his bed while thunder rumbles softly outside, Steve lazily tracing shapes against your scalp while you blink sleepily up at him.
“You know,” you mumble eventually, “I think my body’s accidentally been trained.”
Steve grins immediately. “Finally admitting it?”
“This is your fault.”
“My fault you’re always sleepy?”
“My fault for trusting you enough to fall asleep this much.”
The smile slips slightly from Steve’s face at that.
You notice immediately, even half asleep.
“What?”
Steve looks down at you quietly for a second before shrugging one shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“Steve.”
His fingers slow slightly in your hair.
“It’s just…” He huffs softly through his nose. “I dunno. Kinda nice, I guess.”
Your expression softens immediately.
Because there it is.
The actual thing sitting underneath all the teasing.
Steve likes being trusted.
Likes being needed in these tiny quiet ways that nobody else really notices.
The way you automatically reach for his hand crossing roads. The way you sleep better beside him. The way you unconsciously move closer every time you’re tired.
You shift upwards slightly against his chest until you can kiss him properly.
Steve kisses you back slowly, one hand still tangled gently in your hair.
“I genuinely think this is my favourite thing.”
Your lips twitch.
“Me falling asleep?”
“No.” Steve smiles faintly. “You trusting me enough to.”
Something warm twists painfully through your chest.
You kiss him again before you can think too hard about it.
Steve’s fingers slide slowly through your hair once more afterwards, scratching lightly against your scalp in that familiar absentminded rhythm.
Dangerous.
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Steve looks deeply unconvincing. “I’m just touching your hair.”
“You’re literally weaponising affection.”
Steve starts laughing quietly while you attempt to glare at him through increasingly heavy eyelids.
“You’re already falling asleep,” he says.
“No I’m not.”
“You just blinked for like six seconds.”
“That means nothing.”
Steve grins down at you, still gently combing his fingers through your hair.
“You’re done for, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to argue.
Then immediately yawn instead.
Steve looks so unbearably pleased with himself that you weakly shove at his chest in protest.
It does absolutely nothing.
Mostly because less than ten minutes later, you’re asleep against him again.
And Steve, unfortunately, looks far too happy about it.
sorry thinking about having to sit in steve’s lap during group car rides because robin gets her license and can’t afford anything but a beater volkswagon that doesn’t fit everyone inside of it
maybe the road gets bumpy or your jostling because eddie said something that made you laugh. and steve is in literal purgatory hell because he can smell your natural scent mixing with your perfume and it’s killing him!! he’s fighting off his boner like this life depends on it :(
you keep leaning back to whisper inside jokes into his ear and the way your breath feels on his face gives him goosebumps. thank god it’s dark in the car because he’s certainly embarrassingly red by now
all his senses are honed in on you: the way your laugh sounds, the way you smell, the skin of your arm touching the skin of his and if he lets himself, he can see a bit of your cleavage over your shoulder and oh no. oh god. the dreadful boner
you can feel it almost immediately against your ass. normally, with any other guy and in any other circumstance, you might’ve been offended. but with steve, you’d almost hoped for it when you decided it was his lap you wanted to sit on tonight
the others don’t notice you shift in his lap to face him better, still not straddling but capable of looking him in the eye. he’s looking at you like you’re about to tear him a new asshole— wet, hazel eyes glaring up at you
you throw an arm lazily over his shoulder, threading a hand through his hair and he lets out a whimper so quiet that even you could barely hear it over the sound of the engine
“it’s okay, stevie,” you murmur low in his ear. he shivers
“i’m—sorry—i don’t know why—“
“hey. it’s okay.”
he nods at your reassurance, trance-like, mouth slightly agape. He breathes, “I just—don’t want you to think—“
“do you think about me like this all the time, steve?” you murmur with your head tilted inches from his face
“no! no— i—“
“do you think about what i look like underneath my clothes when you touch yourself at night?” you ask him this right into the shell of his ear, “all alone and pent up?”
“ohmygod—“ he almost moans
“we’re here!” robin announces from the front seat. the engine cuts and the cabin lights turn on and steve is snatched very suddenly from his hypnosis; his cheeks a very bright crimson
“c’mon,” you smile sweetly but squeeze his shoulder in a way that says: this isn’t over
Summary: Joe has had a little too much to drink, and when he spots you, he decides to shoot his shot. There's just one little detail he forgot: you happen to be his girlfriend.
Warnings: teasing, fluff, first meeting, awkward Joe, flirting, established relationship, drinking
English isn't my first language, so be understandable and gentle, thanks!
Word count: +4k
Author's note: Hey everyone! I hope you're doing well! The fic is based on this request. I fell in love with the concept the moment I read it, so a huge thank you to whoever sent it. I really hope I managed to do it justice and that whoever requested it is happy with how it turned out! As always, let me know what you thought! If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear from you in the comments or see you reblogging the fic. It would mean so much to me! ❤️
Masterlist
Months of airports, soundchecks, sleepless nights, unfamiliar hotel rooms, cramped tour buses and endless miles had led to this moment.
The final show of the tour.
And it had been everything you could have hoped for. The venue had sold out within minutes months ago and by the time the lights came up for the final song, the entire room seemed to be moving as one. Every lyric was shouted back at the stage, every note swallowed by the roar of the crowd. You could feel the energy from where you stood, vibrating through the floor and settling somewhere deep in your chest.
You watched Joe through the final song, barely able to take your eyes off him. Night after night, he'd walked onto that stage and given everything he had.
And tonight was no different.
When the final notes finally faded and the venue erupted into one last deafening wave of applause, Joe stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, taking it all in.
You could see it on his face.
Relief.
Emotion.
Pride.
And beneath all of it, an almost overwhelming sense of happiness.
You felt it too.
You knew how much this tour had demanded from him and the rest of band. You had seen the exhaustion behind the adrenaline, the pressure he put on himself before every show, the restless nights when he worried he wasn't doing enough, even when the crowd proved him wrong every night.
Tonight, though, there was no space for that, there was just pure joy and excitement.
There was nowhere else to go.
No next show.
No bus waiting for you.
Tonight was about celebrating.
So, once the show was over and the last traces of backstage chaos had settled, you, Joe, and the rest of the band headed out to party.
A few hours later, you were all crammed into a corner of a packed club. Music pulsed through the room, loud enough to make conversation almost impossible without leaning in. The dance floor was packed shoulder to shoulder, colored lights sweeping lazily across the sea of people as laughter and off-key singing blended into the music. Empty glasses cluttered the table, evidence of several rounds that had long since become impossible to count.
The alcohol had loosened everyone up, washing away whatever exhaustion and tension remained from the tour. You'd danced until your feet hurt, smoked and toasted more times than you could remember, with Joe getting progressively more affectionate with every drink.
Sprawled across the booth, he now had one arm draped around Jake's shoulders as he loudly declared how much he loved everyone around him.
"I mean it," he insisted, pointing dramatically around the group with the utmost sincerity. "Every single one of you. I love you guys so much."
“You already told us that… like four minutes ago," Jake laughed.
"Did I?" Joe frowned thoughtfully, glancing at you, then at the guys, looking for confirmation.
A beat passed.
"Well... I still mean it."
The table erupted into laughter.
You couldn't help smiling to yourself. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a complete mess from hours of dancing and sweat, and every emotion crossed his face with the transparency of someone who'd completely lost the ability to filter himself. Everything he thought came straight out of his mouth.
You found it ridiculously adorable.
But you were also starting to worry about how much he'd had to drink.
He hadn't touched a single glass of water all night.
You glanced at the half-empty beer still sitting in front of him before making up your mind.
"Getting you some water,” you said, leaning in close to his ear and shouting over the music to be heard. “I’ll be right back.”
Joe's head snapped toward you immediately.
"What?" he asked, as though you'd just suggested breaking up.
"You need to hydrate."
"I don’t."
"I'm hydrated."
He looked down at his beer as though it might somehow support his argument.
You smiled. "That's not how it works, babe,” you said, shaking your head.
You pushed yourself to your feet.
"Stay here," you said gently. "I'll be quick, I promise.”
Before you could take a single step away, warm fingers curled loosely around your wrist. You looked down and saw Joe staring up at you with those big brown eyes, his gaze pleading with you to stay like a lost puppy.
“But I don't want water,” he mumbled, giving your arm the tiniest tug. “I want you.”
His voice had dropped into something almost childishly pleading.
The table immediately broke into amused snickers.
"Oh my God," someone muttered.
"He's gone."
"Totally."
Joe ignored them completely.
You bit back a laugh, your heart squeezing despite yourself. He looked so utterly earnest that, for a fleeting second, you almost considered sitting back down and staying with him. Instead, you stepped a little closer and brushed a hand through his messy hair.
"I'm literally just going to the bar," you said softly. "I'll be gone for two minutes. You can survive that."
Joe considered that very, very carefully.
"I don't think I can," he murmured. “And I don’t really want that.”
"I have faith in you.”
“You'll come back?"
"Of course."
"Promise?"
You smiled.
"I promise."
He sighed with the exaggerated resignation of someone making an enormous sacrifice. Unable to resist, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead.
"There," you whispered with a smile. “Don’t move. Stay with the guys."
He finally let go of your wrist, though not without a reluctant little huff, watching you stand as if he were personally offended by the laws of physics forcing you farther away.
“I’ll miss you," he called after you dramatically.
You laughed over your shoulder.
“It's only been three seconds, Joe."
“And it already hurts as hell."
More laughter erupted around the table as you shook your head, still smiling to yourself, and disappeared into the crowd.
By the time you reached the bar, you were already weaving between clusters of people packed shoulder to shoulder beneath the dim amber lights. A small line had formed in front of the counter, forcing you to settle in behind a few strangers while the bartenders hurried from one order to the next. You crossed your arms, waiting patiently.
-
Joe was slouched comfortably against the booth, absentmindedly picking at the label on his beer while listening to three conversations at once without really following any of them. The alcohol had wrapped everything around him in a pleasant haze, softening the edges of everything around him. The music seemed louder somehow, every laugh echoed a little longer than it should, and the colored lights blurred together into streaks of gold and blue whenever he blinked.
He rubbed at one eye before lifting his head, his gaze wandering lazily across the room until it landed on the bar. For a second, he simply stared. Then his breath caught and his lips parted as the rest of the club seemed to dissolve into the background. His heart gave an unexpected little jolt.
Joe blinked slowly.
"Guys."
Nobody answered.
Javi was in the middle of telling a story, Wes was laughing at something Jake had said, and none of them noticed the way Joe had gone completely still beside them.
"Guys."
Still nothing.
This time, Joe reached over and nudged Jake’s shoulder.
"Guys."
Three heads turned toward him almost in unison.
"WHAT?" they asked.
Joe didn't even look at them, his eyes still fixed on the bar. His voice came out slower than usual, the words softened by the alcohol.
“God… she’s so pretty.”
He shook his head, almost in disbelief.
“Who?” Jake asked, frowning.
“That girl,” Joe answered simply, nodding toward the bar.
“Where?” Wes chimed in, looking around.
"The one by the bar.”
Wes leaned sideways, trying to follow Joe's line of sight, but a group of people crossed the dance floor, blocking his view.
Jake looked back at him, utterly confused. "Have you completely lost your mind, Joe?”
“What? You should’ve seen her. She’s gorgeous,” Joe said.
Jake gave him a light smack on the arm.
"Ow."
Joe rubbed the spot with a wounded expression, looking at him as if he'd just been deeply betrayed.
"What was that for?"
The voices started overlapping.
“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why are you checking out another —“
As the crowd shifted, your figure came back into view. You were still waiting for the bartender, completely oblivious to the conversation happening across the room.
“Look, it’s her!” Joe said, half screaming.
Jake froze.
Wes’ eyes widened. "Oh."
Next to him, Javi had just taken another sip of his drink. He followed Joe's finger and almost choked when he finally saw who he was talking about. He coughed into his fist, eyes watering.
"Oh my God," he wheezed. "You're kidding."
"Are you messing with us, buddy?", Wes asked.
Joe looked at them, thoroughly confused.
“What? Look at her and tell me she isn't the most beautiful woman you've ever seen,” he said, glancing back toward the bar.
The three of them stared at each other for a beat before looking back at you. Then back at Joe. But nobody answered. Instead, the corners of Javi's mouth twitched so hard he had to press his lips together.
Jake opened his mouth. "Dude, wake up, that’s literally—"
Before he could finish, Javi nudged him sharply in the ribs. Jake looked at him like he'd lost it, but Javi only shook his head, barely containing a grin. It took Jake another second before he finally caught on, and the corners of his mouth curled into a slow, mischievous smile.
Joe looked between them. "What?"
Javi cleared his throat, forcing his expression back into something resembling sincerity.
“Nothing. I just think..." He continued, nodding toward the bar. “I think you should go talk to her."
Joe let out a laugh.
"Yeah, sure."
"No, I'm serious."
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
Joe looked back at you, his confidence evaporating almost instantly.
"Because..." he said, lowering his voice as if you might somehow hear him across the room. “I mean, look at her! She’s way out of my league."
The table fell silent for half a second. Wes had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing as Joe sighed dramatically.
“And she probably has a boyfriend waiting for her somewhere."
“Maybe. But I don't see one right now," Wes replied with a perfectly straight face, glancing toward the bar. “Look at her, she’s standing there all by herself."
"You could buy her a drink,” Jake added.
Joe looked horrified. "I can't just walk up to her."
"Why not?"
“Because it’d be creepy.”
"Dude," Javi said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder with mock solemnity. "The worst she can do is telling you ’no’."
Joe considered that with surprising seriousness.
Across the room, you happened to glance up from your phone. Your eyes found the table almost immediately. You smiled instinctively at the sight of Joe and the guys before lowering your gaze again, completely unaware that you had just become the center of their conversation.
Javi slapped Joe's arm. "There!"
Joe looked up. "What?"
"She smiled at you."
Joe blinked. “Really? She did?"
"She absolutely did."
"I saw it too," Jake said, nodding with complete conviction.
Wes folded his arms. "That's your sign, buddy.”
Joe looked back toward you, then at his friends and then back at you again.
"You really think I have a chance?"
All three of them nodded without hesitation.
“For sure," Javi said.
“Absolutely," Jake agreed.
Joe drew in a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the most important mission of his life.
“O — okay."
With considerably more effort than should have been necessary, he pushed himself out of the booth, wobbling slightly before catching his balance.
"Wish me luck."
"Oh, we definitely will," Javi muttered.
As Joe began weaving through the crowd toward the bar, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen, Javi quietly slipped his phone out of his pocket. He angled the camera toward Joe, already struggling to keep the frame steady through his laughter.
"I'm saving this forever,” he whispered under his breath, pressing record.
-
You were still waiting for the bartender to notice you when someone stepped up beside you.
“Uh… Can I... buy you a drink?"
You turned your head, already smiling at the familiar sound of Joe's voice.
He stood next to you, one hand shoved awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans while the other rested against the edge of the bar. His cheeks were still flushed from the alcohol and there was a crooked little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, there you are," you said. "I was —"
He cut you off before you could finish. His smile widened with an almost nervous kind of confidence.
“Can I tell you something first?"
You blinked.
“Sure… Are you fine?”
Joe glanced at the floor for half a second, as though rehearsing the sentence in his head.
"I just..." He looked back up at you, his words coming out slower than usual. “I just think you're... really, really beautiful."
You laughed.
"Thank you?"
He let out the tiniest sigh of relief, as though the hardest part was finally over.
"I've been looking at you from over there..." He pointed vaguely toward the booth behind him without taking his eyes off you. "And I thought you were the prettiest girl in this whole place."
You couldn't help laughing.
"What are you doing?"
"Hm?"
"What is this?"
Joe frowned, genuinely confused by the question.
"I'm talking to you."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. He leaned in a little, lowering his voice as if he were sharing a secret.
“Actually, I'm trying to flirt with you."
You stared at him for another beat before a laugh escaped your lips.
"Oh, are you?"
"Mhm."
His expression carried the unmistakable satisfaction of someone convinced he was being incredibly smooth. You folded your arms, amusement dancing in your eyes.
"Are you messing with me?"
Joe opened his mouth and closed it again. His forehead wrinkled.
"No..."
He looked almost offended.
"Why would I do that?"
You searched his face. There wasn't the slightest hint of mischief in his expression, only genuine confusion... and a surprising amount of determination, you noticed.
A strange suspicion crept into your mind and before you could make sense of it, you glanced past Joe's shoulder and saw the guys all watching. Javi had both hands clamped over his mouth to stop himself from laughing, while Sam had practically folded in half over the table. And Wes…
What a bastard, you thought.
He was holding his phone up, pointed toward you, probably filming the entire scene.
Your eyes drifted back to Joe and the pieces clicked into place all at once.
He genuinely had no idea he was talking to you — his girlfriend.
You pressed your lips together, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your face.
This is unbelievable, you thought.
Your boyfriend — the man who had kissed you barely ten minutes ago — had somehow managed to fall for you all over again because he was too drunk and too blind to realize who you were.
You strongly bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
Joe shifted nervously beneath your silence.
"Is this weird? I’m not trying to be creepy, I swear.”
His voice was smaller now, uncertainty beginning to replace the confidence he'd marched over with.
You looked into his hopeful eyes. Then over at his friends, who were silently begging you to keep the act going. A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
"No," you said, tilting your head. "Not weird or creepy."
You let your gaze travel over him for a second, pretending to size him up as Joe sighed, relieved by your words.
"But if you want to flirt with me…" You smiled sweetly. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that."
Joe blinked. Then a determined little smile spread across his face.
"Okay."
He nodded to himself.
“Yeah, I can do better."
He fell silent. His brows pulled together as he searched for something clever to say, lips pursed in concentration. Every now and then his gaze flickered up to you before dropping back to the floor again.
It was almost painful to watch.
But you still didn’t say anything.
"So..." he finally said, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the bar. "Are you here alone?”
You tilted your head and shook it.
"I am not."
His smile faltered almost imperceptibly.
"Oh."
The disappointment was so immediate and so genuine that your heart squeezed.
“A friend?” He asked.
You shook your head again.
“Your boyfriend?”
For a brief second, you considered lying. But curiosity got the better of you. You wanted to see how he would react and what he would do, especially in his current state.
So you nodded. "Mhm."
Joe closed his eyes for a second.
"Of course."
You couldn't help smiling.
"Of course?"
“Yeah. Of course you have a boyfriend.”
He gestured vaguely toward you.
"You're..."
He squinted, as if searching for the right word.
"...you."
You laughed.
"I'm me?"
“No… I mean… You’re… ridiculously… beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep your amusement from showing too much.
"Is he…” Joe began, clearing his throat. “Is he around? Your boyfriend.”
You followed his question with your eyes, deliberately looking around the room before letting your gaze settle on him.
“Yeah, he’s… somewhere.”
Joe instinctively glanced over his shoulder, scanning the crowd.
“He’s a lucky guy.”
You smiled.
“He is. But I am too.”
Joe let out a quiet sigh.
"He's got really good taste.”
A warm flush crept across your cheeks.
“Oh, thank you. I'll make sure to tell him that.”
A comfortable silence settled between you.
He shifted on his feet before speaking again.
"What's he like?"
You looked at him for a moment, pretending to think.
"He's funny.”
Joe nodded immediately.
"Funny's good."
"He makes me laugh every day."
"I like making people laugh too."
"I can tell.”
He smiled, encouraged.
"What else?"
"He's kind."
Joe's expression softened.
"What does he do? For work, I mean.”
"He's an actor."
Joe's eyebrows shot up. He pointed at himself with an almost proud smile.
“I’m an actor too."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
You widened your eyes just enough to sell it.
"No way."
"Yeah."
You studied him for a second.
“My boyfriend also plays guitar."
Joe blinked.
"Seriously?"
“Mhm. And he sings too."
For a split second, Joe looked almost delighted.
"No kidding. I do that too."
“Really?"
“Yeah. I've got a band.”
You looked at him with exaggerated curiosity.
“Are you any good?”
Joe let out a surprised laugh.
"I... I'd like to think so."
"Just think so?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"I mean… I don't really like saying whether I'm good or not."
He shrugged.
"I'd rather let other people decide."
A corner of your mouth lifted.
"Well, I happen to think you're very good."
Joe blinked, his head tilting ever so slightly.
"You do?"
"Mhm."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"How would you know?"
He narrowed his eyes playfully.
"Have you listened to my music?"
You pretended to think about it.
"I might have heard a song or two."
“Really? So you know who I am?” he asked, smiling.
"Uhmm."
Joe looked down at the floor, gently rocking on his heels as he tried to hide the pleased smile spreading across his face.
“And you think I'm good?” he asked carefully, looking back at you.
"I do."
He smiled to himself for another second before his expression turned unexpectedly thoughtful.
“Better… than your boyfriend?"
You had to bite the inside of your cheek. You folded your arms, pretending to consider the question with great seriousness.
Joe watched you expectantly.
"I wouldn't go that far."
He playfully banged his fist on the counter.
"Damn."
“Sorry. My boyfriend set the bar pretty high."
Joe sighed dramatically.
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
You smiled sympathetically.
"You've got some catching up to do."
He nodded with complete sincerity.
“Yeah, I figured."
Then, after a beat, he looked back at you with a tiny spark of determination returning to his eyes.
"How much catching up?”
-
The first thing Joe became aware of the next morning was the pounding in his head.
The second was the dryness in his mouth.
The third was the uncomfortable realization that he had absolutely no idea how he'd made it into bed.
He groaned quietly and pulled the covers higher over his head, hoping that, if he stayed perfectly still, the previous night might somehow cease to exist and with it, the terrible hungover that had settled over him.
It didn’t.
Flashes of the night before crossed his mind.
He vaguely remembered the club, the music and the drinks, of course.
A lot of drinks, actually.
He remembered someone — maybe Javi or Wes — convincing him to do a few shots he definitely shouldn't have done. After that, things became considerably less clear.
Joe rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to piece together his memories.
After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened and you stepped into your hotel bedroom, freshly showered, your damp hair falling over your shoulders as you rubbed it dry with a towel. You met Joe’s eyes almost immediately.
He blinked at you.
You smiled.
“Morning, sunshine!”
He groaned.
"For you, maybe."
You laughed softly and tossed the towel onto a chair.
"How are you already functioning?"
"Because some of us know when to stop drinking."
Joe covered his face with the covers.
"Don't."
You smiled and sat down beside him on the bed. For a moment, you simply watched him suffer, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.
He pulled the covers down just enough to look at you again, suspiciously.
"What happened last night?"
“You don’t remember?”
Joe frowned, trying to search through the fog in his head.
"I remember the club."
"Mhm."
"I remember dancing and… drinking.”
“Oh, that you did."
He winced and rubbed a hand over his face, thinking.
“And that’s pretty much it.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Nothing else?”
Joe shook his head. “Not really.”
“Not even the woman you flirted with?”
He changed expression instantly, his eyes snapping toward you.
“WHAT?”
Joe sat up a little straighter, suddenly much more awake.
"Yeah. Apparently, she was the prettiest girl in the club."
Joe stared at you, believing that you were lying. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then he shook his head.
"No."
You bit back a smile, trying to remain credible.
"No?"
“No, there has to be a mistake."
"There isn't."
“It can’t be. I wouldn't do that."
“But you did."
“No, I wouldn't do that to you. Never.”
His voice was more serious now, the humor disappearing from his face. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying desperately to piece together the missing parts of the night.
"I love you. I'm in love with you."
"I know."
"I mean it. I wouldn't—"
His phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand.
Joe stopped and stared at the screen.
Another notification appeared. And then another one.
He reached for the phone and unlocked it.
“What — what the hell?"
You folded your arms, watching him.
The group chat was filled with new messages.
He scrolled through them, his eyebrows drawing together as he read them aloud.
Javi: Are you awake, Romeo?
Wes: How's your new girlfriend?
Jake: Heard you met someone last night.
“What?” Joe mumbled. “What — what did I do?”
He looked up at you.
"What are they talking about?"
You shrugged, trying your best to keep your face straight.
“You should ask them. They saw everything.”
“Everything?"
“What happened last night. We all did.”
Joe's expression tightened.
"You saw it too?"
You nodded.
"Oh, yeah. I was there."
His eyebrows shot up.
"You were WHERE?"
He stared at you for a few seconds. Then he shook his head, blinking.
"This is a joke, isn’t it?”
"No."
“Yeah, you're messing with me."
“Joe, I'm not. I swear, it’s all true.”
Joe searched your face for any sign that you were about to crack and admit you were teasing him. But he found nothing which only seemed to make him more nervous.
"So..." He swallowed. "You're telling me I actually flirted with another woman last night? In front of you?”
“Not exactly.”
Joe frowned.
"What does that mean?"
You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, unlocked it, and held it out toward him.
"Watch it yourself.”
Joe stared at the screen, then at you.
“The boys filmed the whole thing.”
Joe went completely still.
"You've got to be kidding me."
You watched the color slowly drain from his face. He hesitated, his finger a few inches from the screen. Then he pressed play.
The camera followed Joe as he made his way through the crowded room, one hand occasionally reaching out to steady himself against someone's shoulder as he walked.
Joe watched in silence.
Then the camera turned toward the bar. You were standing with your back to him, still waiting for the bartender.
Joe's eyebrows pulled together.
He stared at the screen for a few seconds before his gaze flickered toward you. Then back to the phone.
"Wait."
He paused the video.
"Is that..."
You smiled innocently.
Joe looked at the screen again as if he was afraid of having misunderstood.
“But that's you."
You nodded.
"Mhm."
A slow realization began to settle over his face as he stared at you. His eyes widened. He stared at you in disbelief.
"No."
You tilted your head.
"Uhhm..."
You pointed at the screen.
“How did you call me? The prettiest girl in the whole place?”
His mouth fell open.
"Oh my God."
He looked back down at the video, suddenly watching with a completely different expression.
“So…”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“I really didn’t recognize you?”
You shook your head. “Nope.”
Joe groaned and dropped his head back against the headboard, dragging both hands down his face.
“Oh God, that’s so… embarrassing.”
You laughed softly, unable to hide your amusement anymore.
He looked at you through his fingers, still horrified.
"And I can’t believe you just let me keep going.”
You smiled, fighting the urge to kiss him and comfort him.
"You were so cute, Joe. I couldn’t stop you. And I was curious to see how far you would go.”
Joe let out a long, defeated sigh and let his hands fall into his lap.
“I’m never drinking again."
"Sure, Romeo."
He gave you a tired glare before his expression softened.
"You're not mad?"
You tilted your head.
"Why would I be?”
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I forgot I had a girlfriend and flirted with you while thinking you were someone else."
“Yeah, you did, but it was still me, at least. You flirted with me, Joe. Your girlfriend. It would've been a lot worse if you'd actually been flirting with another woman."
Joe shuddered at the thought.
"Please don't even say that."
You reached up and gently brushed a strand of messy hair away from his forehead.
“I think it was sweet, Joe. And pretty romantic.” You smiled. “You were completely wasted. You couldn't see straight or barely put a sentence together… But you still saw me across a crowded room and thought I was the most beautiful woman there."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Always."
He leaned into your touch, his eyes growing softer. Then he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.
"Come here."
You leaned closer, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
"Still the prettiest girl in the room,” he murmured against your skin.
You smiled.
"Even when you're sober?"
He pulled back just enough to look at you.
"Especially when I'm sober."
You kissed him softly, finally giving in to the urge you'd been fighting.
When you pulled away, you stayed close, your forehead resting lightly against his.
You couldn't help smiling as the memories of the night before came back to mind.
"You should've seen your face when I told you I had a boyfriend."
Joe groaned.
"Oh, God."
"It was so hard not to laugh. You looked genuinely heartbroken."
He rested his forehead against your shoulder.
"Please stop."
"And then you started trying to compete with yourself."
Joe looked up at you.
"I did not."
“Oh, you absolutely did."
He fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes.
"You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"
"Absolutely not."
He sighed.
“Yeah… I guess I deserve that.”
You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
"Besides, I kind of liked being your crush."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Still are."
"Good."
He opened his arms and pulled you back against him, holding you close.
Requests are OPEN, so feel free to send them!
I'd love to read them :)
Could u do that reader and Steve are like best best friends buuuuuttttttt Steve gets a new girlfriend and shes just really mean to reader?? I love angst lollll. The rest is up to youuuu!!
Thanks cutieee
"Not his first choice"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Steve Harrington x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!
summary: steve’s girlfriend drives a wedge between you and him, and his failure to defend you leads to a painful fallout and broken friendship.
Steve had always said you were his person, not in the romantic way everyone assumed, not in the “Steve Harrington secretly in love with his best friend” way Robin constantly teased him about. It was simpler than that, bigger, maybe.
You were just… you. The first person he called after a nightmare, the passenger princess in his BMW, the one who knew he liked his fries dipped in milkshakes and that he still got nervous before parent-teacher conferences for the kids even though he’d never admit it out loud.
So when Steve got a girlfriend, you tried really hard to be happy for him. At first, you were.
Her name was Amanda, pretty in the polished, intimidating kind of way. She wore expensive perfume and always looked like she’d stepped out of a catalog. Steve smiled more around her, he laughed easier and you loved Steve enough to want that for him. Even if something in your chest twisted every time he canceled plans.
“Sorry,” he’d said over the phone one friday night, voice muffled. “Amanda wants to go to the mall for the weekend.”
You stared at the pizza sitting on your counter and the two tickets to the horror movie marathon tucked under your wallet.
“Oh,” you answered quietly. “Yeah. Sure.”
“You’re not mad, right?”
“No,” you lied instantly. “Of course not.”
But then it kept happening. Movie nights forgotten, late-night calls unanswered, inside jokes fading into silence because Amanda would wrinkle her nose and ask, “Do you two always act this codependent?”
You laughed the first time she said it. Steve didn’t and that should’ve been your warning.
It got worse slowly, cruelly, like Amanda enjoyed seeing how far she could push before someone snapped.
“You’re still hanging around?” she asked one evening when you showed up at Family Video with coffees for Steve and Robin. Robin immediately looked uncomfortable, instead Steve glanced up from behind the counter. “Hey! You came.”
Amanda leaned against the display beside him, manicured nails tapping against her crossed arms. “That’s… sweet.” Something about the way she said it made heat crawl up your neck.
“I was in the area.”
“Mhm.” She looked you up and down. “Steve said you kind of just pop up everywhere.”
Robin coughed awkwardly, Steve frowned slightly. “Amanda…”
“What?” she laughed. “I’m kidding.”
But she never sounded like she was kidding.
Every comment had teeth.
You’re surprisingly pretty in good lighting.
Steve says you hate dating. I can see why.
Aw, matching bracelets? That’s adorable. Middle school vibes.
And Steve… God. Steve never really defended you, not properly, sometimes he’d mumble, “Amanda, stop.”
Sometimes he’d give you this apologetic look like please don’t make this difficult, and because you loved him, you swallowed every hurt feeling down until they sat heavy in your stomach like stones.
The breaking point came at Nancy’s party, you almost didn’t go. Steve had invited you three separate times, insisting he wanted you there.
“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” he’d complained over the phone.
So you went and for a little while, things felt normal. You and Steve ended up on the kitchen floor at one point laughing so hard soda nearly came out of your nose because he’d attempted to dance and immediately slipped into a wall.
“There she is,” Robin said dramatically, pointing at the two of you. “The soulmates reunite.”
Steve grinned at you, a big and warm and familiar grin
Then Amanda appeared, her smile dropped immediately “Oh my god,” she muttered. “Seriously?”
Steve blinked. “What?”
“She’s attached to your hip.”
The room quieted just enough for embarrassment to flood through you.
“Amanda,” Steve warned softly.
“No, because I’m actually tired of pretending this isn’t weird.” She looked directly at you. “Do you not have your own life?”
Your face burned, Steve stood up quickly. “Okay, enough.” but Amanda kept going “You’re obsessed with him. Everyone sees it.” She laughed harshly. “It’s honestly pathetic.”
The kitchen went silent, Robin looked horrified and Steve hesitated, just for a second, but that second was enough. Enough for something inside you to crack straight down the middle.
You looked at him waiting for him to say something, to finally choose you, to finally tell her to stop. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly instead. “Amanda, maybe let’s just calm down…”
Calm down, not leave her alone, not don't talk to my best friend like that. Just calm down.
You suddenly felt stupid suddenly so unbelievably stupid.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Steve looked at you immediately. “Hey…”
“No, it’s okay.” Your voice shook despite your effort to steady it. “I get it.”
“You don’t…”
“No, I do.”
Your eyes burned, you hated crying in front of people. Hated it, but Steve looked more worried about the scene than about you. That hurt worst of all.
You laughed shakily, stepping backward toward the hallway. “I think maybe I stayed too long.”
“Don’t do this,” Steve said quietly.
The words sliced right through you. Don’t do this. Like you were the problem.
Amanda crossed her arms triumphantly and Steve let her. You nodded slowly, throat too tight to breathe properly. “Yeah. Okay.”
Then you left.
Steve called twelve times that night, you ignored every single one.
By morning, your phone was full of voicemails.
“Please answer.”
“Can we just talk?”
“You know she didn’t mean it like that.”
That one made you cry the hardest, because deep down? You knew she did.
And worse of all Steve knew too.
You didn’t answer Steve’s calls, not the twelve from last night, not the seven more in the morning, not even Robin’s, which you knew meant she’d either been bribed, threatened, or emotionally blackmailed into mediating.
Your phone kept lighting up on your desk like it couldn’t understand that something had already ended. It wasn’t even dramatic at first, that was the worst part, nothing had exploded, no final fight where everything was said cleanly and loudly and finally. No clear ending you could wrap your brain around and file away under this is over, move on.
Just… a slow shift, like a room you’d lived in your whole life had started shrinking while you weren’t looking and Steve had been in the middle of it the entire time, acting like nothing was changing.
By the third day, you stopped going outside unless you absolutely had to.
By the fourth, you started flinching every time a car pulled up outside your place, half-expecting his BMW to be sitting there like it used to be when he’d show up uninvited with snacks and a stupid grin and say, “Get in. We’re doing nothing today.”
On the fifth day, you finally went back to Family Video.
You told yourself it was normal, that you just needed a rental, that you weren’t avoiding anything, that Steve Harrington working there did not suddenly make every part of your life complicated. But the moment you stepped inside, the bell above the door chimed and everything inside you tightened.
Robin saw you first, her expression softened immediately, like she’d been bracing for this exact moment all week.
“Hey,” she said carefully.
“Hey,” you replied, too fast, too casual.
Steve was behind the counter, he looked like he hadn’t slept properly since the party. Hair messier than usual, eyes flicking up the second he heard your voice like his body had been waiting for it even if he hadn’t admitted it out loud. For a second, just a second, his face lit up. Then it faltered because Amanda wasn’t just standing beside him anymore.
She was there, leaning into his space like she belonged in it and the way she looked at you said she absolutely remembered everything she’d done.
“Well,” Amanda said brightly, voice sharp underneath the sweetness, “look who finally decided to reappear.”
Robin shifted uncomfortably, Steve straightened quickly. “Hey, you didn’t…uh…call.”
You blinked. That was what he led with.
Not are you okay?Not I’m sorry.Not I should’ve said something.
Just… logistics.
“I didn’t know I needed an appointment,” you said quietly.
Amanda laughed. “Oh my god, she’s funny.”
Steve shot her a look. “Amanda.”
“What?” she said innocently. “I’m just saying. She always acts like she lives here.”
The word acts hit harder than it should’ve. You swallowed, stepping closer to the counter but not all the way in, like there was an invisible line now you weren’t supposed to cross.
“I just came for a tape,” you said. “I’ll be quick.”
Steve looked like he wanted to say something else. His mouth opened, then closed again like he couldn’t find the right version of himself to speak with. Robin watched all of it like she was holding her breath. Amanda, meanwhile, leaned on Steve’s arm “So,” she said, voice light, “are we still doing dinner with my parents tonight?”
Steve blinked. “Oh…yeah. Right.”
Something in your chest tightened again, of course. He forgot things with you constantly now but not this, not her.
You nodded slowly, like that information made sense. Like it didn’t sting “Cool,” you said then you turned toward the shelves. You picked a movie you didn’t even care about, your hands were shaking slightly when you brought it to the counter.
Robin started to take it, but Steve stepped forward first “Let me,” he said quickly.
Your eyes met his for half a second, that used to be enough to feel like home, now it just felt like standing in a doorway that had been rebuilt while you weren’t looking.
He scanned the tape without looking at you for too long, Amanda watched from behind him like she was waiting for something to happen, like she was hoping something would.
“You okay?” Steve asked quietly, sliding the tape toward you.
There it was again. Not I’m sorry. Not I miss you.Just… Are you okay?
As if everything that had happened was still neutral enough to be a simple yes or no answer.
You forced a small nod. “Yeah.”
Steve didn’t look convinced.
Amanda sighed dramatically. “Can we go? I’m starving.”
Steve hesitated, just for a moment, then he nodded “Yeah,” he said.
And that was it, that was the moment something inside you finally stopped hoping.
You didn’t see Steve for a week after that, not because he didn’t try but because you stopped opening the door, stopped picking up, stopped letting yourself get halfway to forgiveness just because he sounded sad on voicemail.
Then, one evening, Robin showed up, no warning, no joke, no usual chaotic energy. Just Robin, standing on your porch like she’d been assigned a mission she didn’t fully agree with but was doing anyway.
You opened the door slowly, she studied you for a second. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” you muttered.
She exhaled. “Can I come in?”
You stepped aside. Inside, she didn’t sit right away. She paced once, then turned toward you like she was choosing her words carefully “I’m gonna say something and you’re not gonna like it,” she started.
“That’s usually your whole brand.”
That got a faint smile out of her, but it didn’t last “Steve’s not okay,” she said.
You stared at her, a long silence stretched between you, then you laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Okay.”
Robin frowned. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Because what were you supposed to say to that?
That Steve Harrington, the guy who used to drag you into gas station parking lots at 2 a.m. because you “looked sad in a way that required snacks”, was not okay? You knew that, you just also knew something else now.
“It’s not just about him,” Robin added quietly.
Your gaze flicked up.
She exhaled. “Amanda’s been… yeah. I don’t like her. At all, but Steve keeps acting like if he ignores it long enough, it’ll fix itself.” That landed differently. Because that part? That part you knew too well.
Robin stepped closer. “He misses you.”
You swallowed hard. “He has her.”
Robin gave you a look like she was trying not to say something harsher. “Yeah, and that’s clearly working out great for everyone.”
Finally, she said, softer, “He didn’t defend you.”
It wasn’t a question, It wasn’t even an accusation, just truth.
Your throat tightened “I know,” you said.
And that was the problem, you did know, you always had.
Steve showed up the next night, you didn’t open the door. He knocked again. Then again. Finally, his voice came through the wood, quieter this time “Please.”
That alone almost broke you, you hated that it still affected you.
“Just…just talk to me. I’m not leaving.”
You leaned your forehead against the door, on the other side, he did the same without knowing you were there. “I messed up,” he said “I know that now. I should’ve said something at the party. I should’ve shut it down. I should’ve…” he exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, “I don’t know, I should’ve been better.”
Your eyes burned.
“I didn’t mean for it to get like that,” he continued. “With her. With everything. I just… I thought I could balance it.”
A bitter laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, balance it, like you were something he could put on the same scale as a relationship that clearly didn’t like you.
“I miss you,” he said finally, quieter.
That one hit harder, because it sounded real, not rehearsed, not convenient, not like he was trying to fix a problem he didn’t want to lose sleep over.
Just… Steve.
“I don’t know how to do this without you,” he admitted.
Your chest tightened painfully, and for a second, you almost opened the door. Almost. But then you remembered Amanda’s smile at the party, the silence in the kitchen, Steve not saying your name loud enough to matter and you realized something that made your hands stop shaking. He didn’t know how to do life without you but he had been doing just fine letting you feel alone inside it.
You stepped back from the door “Steve,” you said softly.
He went quiet instantly.
“I can’t be the person you come back to when things get uncomfortable.”
“…I know,” he said, but it sounded like he didn’t.
You closed your eyes “I love you,” you added, voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t do this version of it.”
On the other side of the door, he didn’t respond right away, when he did, his voice was rough “I’ll fix it.”
You shook your head even though he couldn’t see it “That’s not how this works.”
“…Do you hate me?” he asked quieter than ever
That question hurt in a different way, because the answer was no.
“I don’t,” you said honestly. “I just can’t keep getting hurt where I’m supposed to feel safe.”
He didn’t speak for a long time after that, when he finally did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” you said and you meant it, but sorry didn’t rewind things. Sorry didn’t make him choose differently when it mattered, didn’t undo the moment he stood there and let you feel small in a room you used to belong in.
His footsteps lingered outside for a while after that, then they left and this time, your phone didn’t light up right away. It stayed dark, like even it understood something was over.
Summary: Your best friend won’t stop complaining that none of his content is getting views. So, you come up with a surefire way to get clicks: to make a sex tape.
And who better to make it with than the girl he’s known since middle school?
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, car sex, semi? public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, mentions of porn.
W.C: 9.3k
a/n: i actually don't know how this got so long but this was so fun to write! enjoy.
୨♡୧
Leather squeaks beneath your bare thighs, sweat-slick skin sticking to the thick material. A soft stream of cool air buzzes out of the AC, not doing much to fight against the humid spring air.
It smells strongly of Kurt’s cologne, a smell you’ve grown so used to that you could pick it up out of a lineup if someone asked you to. Somewhere underneath the amber musk, you pick up a hint of mango. A sickly sweet artificial scent, no doubt from his vape, a habit you’ve been trying–and failing–to get him to kick. Every once in a while, when a breeze filters through the window, you get a hint of the coconut oil he’s been swiping through his hair, claiming it “helps it grow.” To you, it just makes him smell great and look greasy. A win-lose situation.
You’ve been doing this a lot recently. Just sitting in your driveway in Kurt’s car hours after hangouts, just enjoying each other's company. Sometimes you vent, sometimes you talk shit about whoever's bothering you, Kurt adding gas to the fire, no matter how little he cares about the subject matter. Now, you both just silently scroll on your phones, just relaxing in the comfort of each other's presence.
With a grunt, you click off your phone and gather the hair that’s plastering itself to your neck in your fist.
“Need a hair tie?” Kurt asks, already reaching into his center console.
“Ugh, thank you. You’re the best,” you breathe out, watching him fish around the organized mess in search of one of the extra hair ties you’ve littered throughout his car.
He hands it to you with that goofy smile you’ve grown to adore over the years, teeth shining in the sunlight leaking through his tinted windows.
It’s always been this way between you two. Easy, simple. Even all the way back in middle school, when you had braces, and Kurt had thick, wired glasses that always seemed to slip down the bridge of his nose. More often than not, you think back to that day.
How anger pulsed through your veins when you saw your school's biggest asshole dumping the contents of Kurt’s lunch on the table, in front of everyone. How you dumped your own lunch all over the kid's head while screaming in his face, threatening to do even worse if he continues to harass a boy you didn’t even know.
You both were inseparable from then on. You’ve both been through each other's worst phases, seen things no one else has. Like your wannabe goth phase, filled with far too much eyeliner and outfits you claimed were ‘edgy’ when they really weren’t. You were there for the beginnings of Kurt’s gaming phase, and you’ve spent years watching it develop into more. Into passion.
It’s charming, really, how much thought he puts into his videos. How his eyes light up on the rare occasions he reaches double digits, how fast he starts to talk when he discusses his next idea with you. Although you can’t lie, sometimes it’s slightly annoying.
Like, now, when for the past ten minutes he’s been refreshing his YouTube page on his phone and groaning when, surprise, surprise, the view count stays at nine. “I don’t fucking get what I’m doing wrong!” Kurt groans, throwing his hands up.
“What was the last thing you posted again?” You ask with a tilt of your head, leaning over to peek at his screen.
“The keyboard review video, remember? The one I told you about where the keys light up. It’s like, really popular right now.”
Slowly, you just blink at him, giving your best “really?” face. Because, really? Personally, you’ve never been scrolling the depths of YouTube in search of a keyboard unboxing video. Hoping he sees the subtle disappointment scrawled all over your face, you raise a brow.
“What?” He murmurs, lips parting. “Come on, what now?”
“Kurt, no one wants to watch you talk about a glowy keyboard. I’m sorry,” you say gently.
In response, he groans, running his fingers through his hair and dragging them down his face. “I’m telling you, dude, I should just go through with The Lesson. I genuinely think it’ll be my magnum opus. I’m serious!”
The Lesson.
It’s all Kurt talks about nowadays, nonstop. It was an idea that developed after your weekly horror movie binge filled with way too much Sprite and over-buttered popcorn. To him, it’s genius—a way to clickbait possible viewers and catapult himself into infamy. To you, it just sounds convoluted. And a little snuffy, if you’re honest.
Which you’re not afraid to tell him. Again.
“You gotta let that go! It’s like, weird.”
He pouts, hazel eyes almost pleading with you to hear him out. “Come on, it’s cool! Think of it like an indie slasher. You love those!”
“Okay, but you want people to think you’re actually killing people!”
Pausing for only a second, he shakes his head. “Only gullible people will actually believe it. Do you actually think people would believe I’d be able to get away with murder? Me? Of all people?” he questions, motioning to himself. “I’m too cute.”
“Sure,” you roll your eyes so hard you’re shocked you haven’t gone blind. “Even if you go through with it, how are you planning to hire all those actors?”
“I dunno, Craigslist.”
Fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose, you shake your head. “With what money, idiot? You already blew all your Spree tips on all these cameras,” you say, motioning to every single window of his vehicle. Frankly, it looks like the set of a bad porno.
He just breathes out in response, leaning his head back against the headrest, eyes focusing on nothing in particular. This angle gives you a perfect view of his side profile, something you’ve been noticing a lot more recently–the strong slope of his nose, the soft curve of his full lips. Those freckles you love so much, airbrushed over his tanned skin.
Eyes trailing down, you swallow at the bump of his Adam’s Apple in his throat. Cheeks flush pink as you watch it bob. Once your mouth goes too dry, an idea cycles through the forefront of your mind. “Why don’t you like, post videos of you jerking off?” You murmur, looking down at your phone like it’s the most casual conversation in the world.
“What?!” Kurt sputters, a dusting of rose creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears. “That’s- You’re joking, right?”
Clearing your throat, you carefully pull your face to be neutral, as if this topic doesn’t affect you. Like the mere thought of your best friend with his hand wrapped around his dick, his phone in hand, doesn’t absolutely drive you to madness. “No, I mean… People would probably pay for it. Some… Some people think you’re attractive. Own it, you know?”
“I- I can’t just post that! YouTube would take it down, literally immediately. Like, their fucking moderation is crazy.”
With a soft snort, you shake your head. “I mean, on PornHub or something.”
Just hearing the word “porn” on your lips leaves Kurt a blushing mess, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. Before he can argue, you cut him off quickly. “It’s views you want, yeah? That’s kinda a surefire way to get you views.”
“I don’t- I don’t wanna, sell my body to strangers, dude,” he murmurs, barely able to keep eye contact.
“It’s not selling your body! It’s not like you’re posting to OnlyFans. I mean, you could if you want, I guess.”
“Absolutely not,” he huffs.
“Just a suggestion,” you shrug. “Personally, I’d rather make myself feel good for views instead of trying to convince people I’m a mass murderer.”
“Spree killer,” he mutters, correcting you.
“Whatever,” you laugh, turning back to your phone.
Really, you’re not exactly sure why you pushed it so hard. It’s not like you’d actively search the trenches of PornHub to find his account. And it’s certainly not like you’re attracted to him, right? You can just simply point out how he might be…Pleasing to look at to others. Very pleasing.
While you think, you can just about hear the wheels turning in his head. A sort of silent understanding of him you’ve developed over time.
“You really think people would watch it?” he murmurs.
“I don’t see why not,” you shrug.
He sighs, like he’s genuinely considering this. You almost laugh at how deep this is to him, like he’s deciding whether or not to mortgage a home. “I don’t know how I feel about being a pornstar, though. Like, if it does go viral.”
At that, you can’t help but giggle. “Jerking off doesn’t really make you a pornstar. I think that title only applies if you have sex with other people and post it.”
Kurt’s silent for a little while, his eyes focused on the steering wheel where one hand is resting. Just as his silence begins to get concerning, you clear your throat. “You… Could do that, you know? Find someone down.”
His spine straightens, hazel eyes turning as wide as saucers. Somehow, if it's even humanely possible, his face gets even redder, the tips of his ears glowing under the setting sunlight peeking through the windows. “I- No, what? That’s-” He sputters, looking past your shoulder, not quite able to meet your eyes.
Raising your eyebrow, you drag your eyes up and down his body. “Why are you so weird about sex?”
It’s not like you haven’t discussed your own sex life before with him. And it’s not like he gets this weird and squirmy when you do. But for some reason, whenever you turn it around on him, he looks like a spooked kitten, wishing to dart under the nearest piece of furniture.
“I’m not! I’ve just…” He trails off, picking at his nails.
Suddenly, it dawns on you, your face dropping. “Kurt…” you murmur gently. “Are you a virgin?”
His eyes widen, and he throws up his hands quicker than you’ve ever seen anyone do before. “No! I’ve had sex!”
“How many times?”
That causes him to pause, to sink his teeth into his bottom lip. “Like…”
“Hm?” you urge when he trails off once again.
“Twice,” he murmurs, finally building enough courage to meet your gaze.
“Oh.”
It’s really all you can manage. It’s not like you’re particularly promiscuous, but no one can argue that you’re not experienced. At this point in your life, you’ve just about lost count.
“But I watch, like, porn and stuff! I know what I’m doing,” he throws on, as if you were wondering.
If you’re honest, you kind of were.
Still, you laugh, shaking your head. “Kurt, you kinda sound like an incel right now.”
“I’m not an incel,” he groans, looking out the window.
Gently, you place your hand on his bicep. No matter how many times you’ve comforted him in this way, it always surprises you how… Sturdy, he seems. “I’m joking, dude, I promise.”
Slowly, his eyes settle on where your skin meets his. You can see the way his jaw ticks, the slow ascent of his eyes to yours. It seems like the idea settles in both your minds at the same time. It’s even more evident once he readjusts in his seat.
You say it anyway, just in case you’ve jumped to the wrong page in the same book. “What if we film together?”
His pink lips part, like he didn’t expect you actually to say it out loud. To actually throw the idea into the void. “You’re not… Seriously?”
With a nod, you take your hand away and lean back in your seat. “It’ll get you views. Lots of them, probably. I mean, I’m hot, right?” You joke, hoping to soften the gravity of what you’re suggesting.
It takes him a beat to respond. “Yeah,” he nods along, surprising you slightly. “Isn’t that, like, really fucking weird?”
“Kinda. But so is pretending to kill people on YouTube.”
“Right,” he breathes out. “I don’t know about this. I don’t want things to be different between us.”
“It’s just sex. It’s not like we’re doing it for pleasure. It’s just for recognition, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” he nods, that sparkle leaking back into his irises. The same one you’ve seen so many times before. “For views.”
When the silence drags on for a beat, you both laugh. “Fuck, are we actually considering doing this?” He says, almost breathlessly.
“I’m more than considering. I’m in if you are.”
His eyes find yours. They drag up and down your face, like he’s scanning for any ounce of hesitation, of deceit. When he’s unable to find it, he nods, unable to stop the laugh that leaves his lips. “Fuck, okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”
You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, the warmth that sparks through your body, stopping between your thighs. He turns his body towards yours, running a nervous hand through his slick hair. “Okay, so, how are we doing this? Like, what are the logistics?”
Looking down, you consider his question. How does one film a sex tape with their best friend of almost a decade? Breathing out, you chew your thumbnail. “Okay. Okay, how about tonight, you pick me up. We could park in that old abandoned construction site, you know, with the gravel lot?”
Kurt holds up his hands, shutting you up. “Wait- You wanna do it in my car?”
“You’ve already got the cameras set up in here,” you say with a gentle shrug of your shoulders, although your heart is beating so quickly at the thought it’s dizzying.
“Okay. Wow,” he whispers, looking at you in awe. “Why not right now?”
“Someone's eager,” you laugh, the sound rumbling your chest even louder once he flushes and scratches the back of his neck. “I wanna shower, we’ve been in this car for like, three hours. And I want you to wash all this coconut oil out of your hair.”
He chuckles, batting your hand away when you reach over and ruffle the strands. “I’m trying to grow it out, give me a break!”
“I seriously don’t think it does anything but make you look greasy. And smell like a tikki bar.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
Another giggle leaves your lips, making the corner of his eyes crinkle. “Seriously. Wash it out,” you say, gathering your purse and your phone. “See you tonight, Kunkle.”
“Yeah. Tonight,” he whispers, watching you climb out of his car and up your driveway.
As you unlock your door, you’re beginning to wonder what you just got yourself into.
♡♡
You lean over your vanity, dragging thick, chunky mascara through your bare lashes. Gloss shines on your lips, the strawberry flavour spreading across your taste buds when your tongue swipes out. Once your eyelashes are standing tall, a perfect mix of clumpy and natural. The type that always seems to make Kurt pause in the middle of his sentences.
Just as your phone starts ringing, you dab your favorite perfume on your neck and wrists, the smell of warm vanilla wafting around the room. Picking up your phone, you check the text.
Kurt: in driveway.
Just those two words, improper capitalization and all, make your heart flutter, your stomach clench. All night, you’ve been counting down the minutes, almost in disbelief. You would’ve never thought you’d even see Kurt naked, let alone film a fucking porno with him.
It’s certainly taboo. Something you know you might regret afterward. But you can’t help it. Every part of your body feels drawn to him, a sort of gravity so strong it just about knocks you off your feet.
And the wondering. God, the wondering. What sounds he’ll make, what his pretty face will look like when he’s close. If he truly knows what he’s doing, if he knows what to do with those thick fingers, those big hands-
Your phone dings again, knocking you out of your daydream.
Kurt: r u nervous? cuz I kinda am…
Chuckling, you type a response, your manicured nails clicking against the glass. Without having to look out your window down your driveway, you can just imagine the look on his face. His teeth sinking into the plushness of his bottom lip.
You: very.
Not wanting to leave him waiting any longer, you slip your phone into your purse, checking your outfit in the mirror. Your hair falls in silky waves, glossy in the dim lights of your bedroom. Adjusting your tight burgundy tank top, you make sure the lace trim settles against your breasts perfectly. A dark-washed jean skirt settles mid-thigh, gold jewelry shining on your neck and ears.
Underneath, you picked the laciest number you could find, the material a silky black. You know it’s a lot, probably too much for a guy who has seen you with no makeup on your face, sporting three-day-old pajama pants. But still. You really can’t get rid of that desire to see that soft blush paint his skin again.
You take the stairs two at a time, careful not to trip over your shoes. Once you’re out the front door, Kurt’s already looking up at you. His lips are parted into a small ‘o’, his knuckles visibly tightening around the steering wheel.
Making your way to his side, you motion for him to roll the window down. Quickly, he obliges with fumbling hands, eyes widening when you lean down and give him a healthy eyeful of your chest.
You’re able to see him easily with the LED strips he’s placed along the top of the car, even in the dark night.
“I like the hair,” you smile, reaching in to run your fingers through the now soft tendrils, feeling like silk between your fingers.
And you mean it.
It curls around his ears and the back of his neck, swooping over his forehead. Hanging slightly over the sharp line of his brow, hazelnut highlights shine underneath the street lights. His hair is messy in a way that somehow feels intentional, as if he ran his hand through it one too many times.
It’s frustrating how good he looks, looking up at you with those wide doe eyes. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” you murmur, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “So, I had an idea.”
Your hand falls away from his hair, resting beneath your chin.
“Uh, oh. That’s dangerous,” he chuckles, the corner of his lips twitching up.
Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and smile. “Hear me out, yeah?” you begin, only continuing when he nods hesitantly. “We roleplay. You pretend you’re my Spree driver.”
“You- You wanna give our porno plot?” He laughs out, the disbelief evident in his voice.
“Come on, it’ll be hot! I’m, like, a sexy college student who needs a ride to a bar. And I start flirting with you hardcore. Then I’ll ask you to park somewhere and “keep me company” in the back.”
Kurt drags his knuckles against his lips, his eyebrows pulled tight. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“Seriously, tell me that’s not hot.”
He shakes his head, the tips of his ears pinkening just like you had hoped. “No, it is. It’s just… Are we sure this is a good idea?”
Tilting your head, you just chew on the inside of your cheek. “No. But we’re already here,” you whisper.
He just nods, drumming his fingers on the wheel, lost in thought. After a few moments, he nods again, turning to look at you. “I’ll run the cameras… Just walk down the street, and I’ll pretend like I’m picking you up.”
With a nod of your own, you stand up, making your way down your street. You go just a little further than necessary, just in case whoever views it recognizes the background. A part of you feels stupid, putting this much effort into something as crazy as this.
From down the street, you watch Kurt back out of your driveway, making his way down to you. Each foot he gets closer, the more your thighs press together, the heavier your breathing gets. It’s not panic, really, more so the realization that this is actually going to happen.
He pulls up next to you, parking right next to the curb. With a deep breath, you get into the little character you created in your head. “Hey, you’re my driver?” You ask through the open window, a smile creeping onto your face.
“That’s me,” he says with an easy smirk. Once you crawl into the back, he pretends to type something onto his phone. “You’re going to Melvalds, yeah?”
“Yep. It’s my friend's birthday today, we’re all celebrating,” you say, looking at your manicured nails casually. It feels kind of stupid, like you’re back in your middle school drama class.
“Nice, nice,” he says, putting the car in drive and making his way down the street. “There’s water in the back if you need it,” he says, motioning to the pockets.
You give him a sly look, the corner of your lips quirking up. “They’re not poisoned, are they?”
He looks at you in the review mirror, with that knowing look on his face. You can tell he’s trying and failing to suppress a smile, catching what you’re referencing easily. “I can assure you they’re not. I don’t poison pretty girls.”
Heat crawls its way up your face, making its way down your body slowly. It’s just acting. It’s just words. “It’s a good day for me, then,” you say with a forced giggle, already uncapping a bottle.
The cool liquid coats your dry throat, leaving you to force out a small whimper. It’s barely there, just barely loud enough for the cameras to pick it up. It’s obvious Kurt picked it up, though, his eyes flicking back up to the reflection of you in the mirror.
“So, you from around here?” Kurt asks, eyes focused on the dark road ahead.
“Oh, yeah, I actually grew up here,” you say casually, trying to pretend that his cologne isn’t giving you heart palpitations.
“Ah, nice. I moved out a few years ago. Still figuring things out,” he says, smoothly turning down a street you don’t really recognize.
“Nice. It’s not so bad when you know where everything is.”
“You got any restaurants you recommend? Any hot spots?” He says with a tilt of his head, like he’s silently urging you.
You pick it up easily. “There’s this one place downtown, actually. Pretty good if you like Chinese food.”
It’s silent for a few moments, like you’re contemplating something. “I do know this one fun spot. It’s close to here.”
“Yeah?” He says lowly.
“Mhm. I’ve.. I’ve got some time before the party. It’s just a few rights down this road.”
Kurt’s eyes flick up. He knows exactly where to go; he could get to that lot with his eyes closed. You both used to hang out there every Friday night in high school, away from prying eyes. The old construction site that no one did anything with, just sitting there frozen in time.
He nods, already making his way there. The rest of the ride is silent, both of you holding your breath as the time gets closer and closer. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest when you hear that signature song of tires crunching gravel. Kurt parks all the way at the edge of the lot, far enough from the road that anyone passing by wouldn’t be able to see, even with how bright the LEDs are.
“So… You wanna keep me company back here?” You whisper.
Both of you know this isn’t really how normal people talk, how random hookups like this happen, but you’re sure horny people with their hands wrapped around themselves won’t really mind too much.
“I can do that,” he murmurs. It only takes him a moment to open his own door and slide in the back.
Once he’s next to you, you place a hesitant hand on his thigh. The muscle is firm beneath the stretched-out denim, hard against your hand. “You’re cute for a Spree driver,” you whisper, eyes raking down his face like you’re seeing him close up for the first time.
Although it certainly isn’t, you can’t help but admit how pretty he is. How pretty he’s always been.
Kurt audibly swallows, his fingers twitching in his lap. “You’re cute for a passenger,” he murmurs.
It’s quiet for a few moments, Kurt not quite meeting your eyes. When he finally does, you can feel that subtle shift in the air. Like the tectonic plates of your relationship have cracked open, threatening to quake.
As if time moves in slow motion, he reaches out, tentatively brushing his knuckles against your jaw. You are less careful, taking your fingers and sliding them through the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Giving a soft tug, he bites his tongue, his palm encasing the soft curve of your jaw.
It’s unclear who moves first, but you’re both leaning forward, your lips ghosting. Both of you pause, eyes fluttering shut, breath mingling between you. With each breath he lets out, you smell sharp mint and that mango flavor you’re so used to.
The tension is heavy, the air thick with growing desire. Slowly, so slowly, he presses his lips against yours for the first time. It’s just light pressure, closed mouth. You stay like that for a few moments, your brain going completely blank.
It’s weird.
Not that kind of weird that makes you want to run, to pull back and tell him this was all a mistake. No. The kind of weird that stirs something deep within you, that ties years of questions into one single answer: You want this.
You really, really fucking want this.
Kurt pulls back, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as his lids flutter open. He looks at you with wide eyes, his thumb brushing your cheek, like he doesn’t know what else to do with it.
It seems to wash over you both at the same time. That intense, almost animalistic desire that leaves you dizzy. You can see it in the way his breath falters, the soft pinch of his eyebrows once he realizes how utterly fucked you both are.
Fingers snake through your hair, nails scraping your scalp. He surges forward so quickly it’s almost a blur, his lips smashing against yours.
A noise set somewhere between a whimper and a gasp rumbles in the back of your throat, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck. He swallows it with a groan of his own, wasting no time to press his tongue against the seam of your lips.
With no hesitation, you part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. Beneath the sickly sweet Mango and the peppermint of his toothpaste, there’s a taste that’s so uniquely Kurt you can’t help but moan. Your thighs press together when you feel him smile against you, his palm pressing against your back as he drags you closer.
You’re chest to chest now, bodies moving against one another in a dance neither of you wants to end. He tilts his head to the other side, chasing your lips as he adjusts the angle.
It’s a frenzy of teeth and tongue, both of you clawing at each other like you’re lions that were just let out of their enclosures. You’ve never been this kind of person, the type to get so deep into a kiss that there are no other thoughts in your mind but pure, unadulterated lust.
Large hands trail down your body, stopping at the soft curve of your hips. Your skirt bunches up the plush skin of your thighs, giving his wandering hands even more space to map out.
He slides his palms under your thighs, gripping the skin as he tugs you upward. Getting the hint, you throw a leg over his lap, knees digging into the leather as you settle on top of him.
Kurt doesn’t let you hover over him for long, his hands pulling you downwards, the already obvious bulge in his jeans pressing against your ass. Your breath hitches in your throat at the feeling, quickly turning into small whimpers when he begins to guide your hips against his, adjusting so the seam of his jeans presses perfectly against your clothed heat.
“Shit, Kurt,” you gasp out once his nose nudges your chin up, his teeth dragging across your fluttering pulse.
“See what you do to me?” He murmurs, grinding you down harder, making sure you feel every ridge of him, even through all the fabric. “Been like this ever since you got in the car.”
With each grind, with each catch of his zipper against your clit, you can feel your panties getting damper and damper, surely soaking through and leaving a dark spot on his pants.
He bites into the skin above your collarbone, certainly leaving purple blooms beneath each drag of his teeth. You couldn’t care less, tilting your head to give him even more access to you. His head dips down lower, nipping at the curve of your breasts that are spilling out of your bra.
His hands come up, sliding up your sides, the fabric of your thin tank coming with. “Can I take this off?” He whispers, finally looking up at you.
In the soft light of the LEDs, he’s never looked better. His lips are red and swollen, your lip gloss smeared across the plush skin. Those hazel eyes you’ve gazed into so many times are blown black, swirled with pure desire. You run your hands through his hair, biting your lip when he groans softly.
“Yeah,” you nod, helping him pull it off. He throws it somewhere in the front of the car, an issue for later.
As soon as he sees the skimpy lace, barely leaving anything to the imagination, his lips part, and he lets out a shaken breath. “Fuck… You wear this for me?” He asks, his eyes not even flicking up to yours, too entranced.
Before you can answer, before you can crack a joke about how lost he looks, his hands come up to cup your tits, thumbs brushing your pebbling nipples through the thin fabric. You can’t help but let out a soft whine, your back arching into his touch.
Just as you think it can't get any better, he reaches behind your back. He fumbles with the clasp for only a few moments, tugging it off your body with trembling fingers. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to yours.
“You’re fucking beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispers. palms sliding up and down your sides. He looks at you like you’re an angel God himself sent down to him. The pure awe in his face leaves you a blushing mess, your heart pounding against your ribcage.
Slowly, he kisses down your chest, branding your skin with even more hickeys. “Kurt-“ you cut yourself off with a soft whimper when his hand comes up, pinching and rolling the other between his fingers. His lips wrap around your soft skin, sucking the hard peak into the warmth of his mouth.
You grind down onto him harder, a hand pressing against the back of his head, holding him against you. In response, his teeth sink into your nipple, and he tugs it teasingly. A sly smirk that you want to kiss off immediately crawls onto his face when you moan louder.
Slowly, he pulls back, his large palms engulfing your hips. His thumbs brush your skin slowly in circles, his eyes shining when he meets your eyes. “Can I taste you, sweetheart?” Kurt whispers, one palm sliding down your thigh, squeezing softly.
A soft breath leaves your lips, a new wave of pleasure spiking through you, just at his words. “You want to?” You ask, encasing his jaw in your hands, tilting his head up even further.
“Fuck, yeah,” he almost laughs. “I wanna know how sweet this pussy tastes,” he murmurs, the pad of his thumb just ghosting your clothed heat.
Your hips jump slightly just at his little touch, pulling a core-clenching chuckle to leave his throat. “Please,” you whimper.
Not wasting a moment more, he grips you tighter and spins you both around. Your back lands against the seat with a low thud, Kurt landing above you with a soft grunt. He takes a moment to lean down and press his lips against yours gently, a stark contrast to your earlier kiss.
As he kisses you, he pops the button of your skirt, slowly unzipping it. He tugs it down, only breaking the kiss to tug it over your shoes. It ends up in a heap over the center console, much like the rest of your clothes. He smirks at your thong, a finger hooking under and snapping the elastic against your hip. A soft gasp of surprise leaves your lips at the slight sting.
Then, his lips begin trailing down your body. Your breasts, your hardened nipples. His teeth drag across each rib, the skin beneath him exploding with goosebumps, proof of the effect he truly has on you. Once he reaches the softness of your tummy, he’s more gentle, pressing sweet kisses into the soft skin.
It seems that as he makes his way downward, the prior blinding lust transforms, mutates into something deeper. Something that starts making your hands shake at your side. He notices almost immediately. He always does.
“Are you okay? You’re shaking,” he whispers, reaching out and holding one of your hands in his own.
Nodding slightly, you squeeze his fingers in response, not sure what to say without embarrassing yourself. Really, you’re not sure what happened. You were so ready to go into this being that bold, sexual girl. The type that is a weapon in bed, to never get nervous, no matter how intense the situation is. But as he gets lower, it’s beginning to melt away. To feel real.
“Do you want this, sweetheart? We- we don’t have to. I can turn off these dumbass cameras right now. I won’t hold it against you,” he says quickly, frozen in place. Like he’s unsure whether to back away or come up to hover back over you.
“Kurt I- I think…” You take a deep breath, picking yourself up on your elbows to look down at him better. “I think I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”
His eyes widen slightly, your admission hanging in the air between you both.
“Really?” He finally says, already positioning himself lower.
“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Don’t… Don’t stop, please.”
“I won’t,” he whispers, finally settling between your thighs.
He hooks his arms under them, tugging you toward him. It’s slightly cramped, a little awkward to do this in his backseat, but you both make it work the best you can. Once you’re both situated, he looks up at you one last time, his eyes asking a silent question.
Slowly, you nod, reaching down to brush his hair out of his eyes.
As soon as he knows you’re sure, his lips press firm against your clit through your panties. Without giving you a moment to moan or even gasp, he presses his nose into the damp fabric, breathing you in. “Fuck,” he murmurs. You rut your hips against him when he rubs the tip of his nose against your clit, effectively nuzzling you.
His fingers hook under the skimpy fabric, and he pulls it to the side, revealing you to him fully. Not even bothering to take them off you completely. Pupils blow, his eyes turning black.
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, two fingers spreading you open for him. “You’re soaked, sweetheart. All for me, yeah?”
Nodding, you suck in a harsh breath, fingers sliding through his thick hair. His own finger slides through your folds, gathering your arousal on the thick digit. “Jesus,” he whispers, looking at his glistening fingers in awe.
Gently, he presses a slick finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Oh,” you let out a soft breath, feeling your body relax against his touch. After a few more tight circles that leave you panting, he leans forward, pressing his lips against your clit.
Your hips jerk up, pulling another small laugh from him. Not one of mocking, but almost one of disbelief, like he can’t believe this is happening. He keeps pressing mind-numbing kisses to your slit, getting lower and lower until he’s at your entrance.
Then, as if that wasn’t already driving you crazy, he presses his tongue flat against your dripping entrance, parting your lips with his tongue, all the way up to your clit. Once he gets a taste of you, he’s gone.
He laps at you like a starved man, his fingers digging into your thighs and tugging you down harder against him. You’re not really sure what you expected, considering his lack of experience… But fuck, you could’ve never imagined it’d feel this good.
“Oh my god, Kurt,” you moan, throwing your head back against the seat. He smirks against you, pulling back and circling the tip of his tongue around your clit.
Flicking his tongue against you, his fingers slide down below his working jaw, the tip of one prodding your entrance. You tighten your grip on his hair, moaning even louder when he slowly slides his middle finger against your sensitive walls. It’s only one finger, but the thick digit is already stretching you out, already making you keen and rut up against him.
“You’re so tight, sweetheart, relax for me,” he murmurs against your clit, slowly sliding his finger out and curling it back in.
The pad of his finger presses against that spongy spot within you that has you seeing stars. “Fuck, right there- Please-” you whine, close to babbling.
Kurt gets the hint, pressing his finger firmer against that spot, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking it into the warmth of his mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair, nails scraping his scalp. In response, he moans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your entire body.
“Gonna add another one,” he says, only pulling back long enough to get the words out.
You nod weakly, back arching off the squeaky seats once he slides his ring finger in, thrusting his wrist quicker. His tongue matches the pace of his arm, sucking and flicking your clit, his mouth feeling like heaven against you.
His fingers stroke that spot within you, pressing against it with such firm pressure that you can’t help but moan louder and ruck your hips against his face. Kurt can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, watching each twitch of your face, each shudder of your body with blown pupils and a smirk.
Quickly, much sooner than you ever could’ve thought, that sweet pressure builds within you, your thighs trembling around his head. “I-I’m, oh fuck, baby,” you moan out, grinding up against him, his nose catching your clit.
“You close?” He murmurs, fingers curling deeper within you. “You gonna cum all over my face, sweetheart?”
His words make your eyes widen, your thighs press against the side of his head. They sound foreign on his lips when they’re targeted toward you, but so sinful that your stomach clenches. “Yes!” You whine.
Kurt’s movements get quicker, more precise as he gets you right where he wants you. You make the mistake of looking down at him between your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit. Almost as soon as your eyes meet, you’re gone.
Your entire body shudders, your orgasm washing over you so quickly it leaves you breathless. You can feel yourself clench hard against his fingers, your arousal gushing around them. Head thrown back, your eyes squeezed shut, your hips jerk with overstimulation as Kurt leaves soft kitten-licks against your throbbing clit.
He works you through it gently, his licks turning to soft kisses, turning to barely there pecks. Each one makes your body jump, leaving Kurt to hold you down by your hip with his free hand. “Did so good for me,” he whispers, lips finally leaving you. He gently presses them against the inside of your thigh, eyes focused on yours as he slowly pulls his fingers out.
“Sorry,” he mutters once you whine softly at the loss of him, your cunt fluttering around nothing.
The sight before you once he pulls back is heavenly. If it weren’t for the pounding of your heart against your ribs, you’d think you were dreaming. Kurt’s lips and chin are shining with your release, his hair a mess of soft waves on top of his head. There’s a soft smile on his face when his tongue drags over his lips, a soft whimper leaving his lips when he tastes you there.
Reaching up with a shaking hand, you pull him on top of you, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on his mouth, something that wouldn’t seem sexy before, but Kurt seems to make every part of your body ache with desire.
He kisses you back, pressing himself firmer against you, your chests flush. You pull back first, your knuckles coming up to brush his jaw. “Kurt, how much porn do you watch?” You whisper, a soft smile twitching your lips up.
That cute rose color you love so much creeps up his neck, his eyes widening. “W-what?”
“That was fucking crazy. Like, do you study that shit?” You joke, unable to help yourself. You just love seeing him flustered, love to see that innocent look on his face, although you know now he’s anything but.
“N-no, I just… It was good?” He whispers, sounding unsure of himself.
At that, you almost burst out laughing. “You’re joking, right?”
Kurt just shakes his head, shuddering when your fingers dip underneath his shirt, tracing the soft hairs of his happy trail.
“It was fucking incredible, dude,” you murmur against his lips, sliding his shirt up to his ribs.
Getting the hint, he pulls back slightly, tugging it over his head. Once he’s back over you, you look down, letting yourself explore the revealed skin. His broad chest is scattered with moles and freckles, all disappearing under a thick patch of hair. Dragging your fingers downward, you trace his happy trail, smiling once the soft curve of his tummy clenches.
“So pretty,” you whisper, eyes flicking up to his half-lidded hazel ones. They widen once you slide your hand down even lower, palming him through his already-tight jeans.
“Oh-” he cuts himself off with a groan once you squeeze his bulge gently, your breath catching at the size of him, even through his jeans. His head comes down and rests in the crook of your neck, breath coming in sharp pants as he ruts against your palm.
“Can… Can I fuck you?” He whispers, voice muffled against your skin. The question is so wrecked, so earnest, you almost moan in response.
Kurt pulls back, looking into your eyes, waiting to see your response. You nod quickly, already popping the buttons of his jeans.
“I want you to say it,” he says softly, his hips pulling away from you slightly.
Looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, your mind hazy with want, you lean up and kiss his jaw. “I want you in me, Kurt.”
His eyelids flutter shut, a soft groan leaving his lips. Not wasting another breath, he helps you drag down his zipper, kicking out of his jeans. It takes him a moment due to the angle, but he’s eventually left in only boxers that leave almost nothing to the imagination.
The curve of his erection presses against the fabric, every ridge of him clear. But nothing could prepare you to see him without any barrier. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband, tugging them down quickly.
His length springs up, hitting his stomach softly. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. He’s big. Bigger than you ever imagined. Not that you imagined it… too much
The tip is flushed pink, a bead of precum already sliding down the underside of him, trailing down the prominent veins that snake around his shaft. A soft patch of hair sits at the base of him, connecting to his happy trail.
“What the fuck, Kurt,” you gasp, absolutely transfixed.
“Is that a good or bad ‘what the fuck?’” He laughs out, scratching the back of his neck.
“Good. Really good.” You sit up next to him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft.
Kurt lets out the softest whimper, his jaw going slack. “Feels s’good,” he murmurs, shuddering when your thumb swipes across his slit.
You begin to stroke him slowly, just getting used to the warmth and weight of him in your hand. His hips begin to rock in motion with your fist, thrusting up into you. Leaning over, you let a drop of spit slide out of your mouth and down his tip. Kurt whines in response, the sound so weak it makes your breath halt.
“Lie down,” you whisper.
His closed eyes flutter open, his head tilting. “You… You want...?” He trails off, barely able to say the word.
You place your palm on his chest and push him back, resituating yourself while he lies back. Climbing on top of him, your knees land on either side of his hips, the leather of his seats squeaking beneath you.
His length sits against your thigh, smearing a glistening stripe of precum on the plush skin. Gently, he places his hands on your hips, squeezing slightly, thumbs brushing circles on the bone.
Kurt grips himself in his hand, gently tugging you toward him. Chests pressing together, your heart beats in tandem with his. A low mewl leaves your lips at the feeling of his chest hair brushing your nipples. With a low grunt, he drags himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.
“There’s a condom in the center,” He murmurs, jaw ticking at the sound of your soft moans when he grinds his tip against your clit.
“Prepared, huh?” You grit out through a thick moan.
Despite your cunt grinding against his dick, Kurt still blushes, his teeth chewing his bottom lip as he looks at you sheepishly. Just as you're about to lean over and dig through his center console, you change your mind halfway through.
“I’m on birth control.”
He blinks up at you, raising an eyebrow. “Okay?” His eyebrows are pulled together, like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re bringing this up.
“Kurt…” You whisper, unable to help the smile that’s crawling onto your face.
Realization seems to dawn on him, his lips parting in surprise. “Wait- You want…? Are… Are you sure? Isn’t that..”
Before he can continue, you cut him off quickly.“Stupid? Yeah. But, Kurt.. I want to feel you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”
You can see his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows, his jaw working. “Me too,” he murmurs. “For too fucking long.”
Slowly, you sit up, hovering over him. He squeezes your hip as he drags himself through your folds one last time.
“You wanna go slow?” He asks, just barely prodding your entrance.
“Just- At first,” you whimper out, slowly sinking down onto your best friend's dick.
The stretch is immediate, despite only his tip entering. It burns so fucking good as he slowly pulls you down onto him, letting you feel each inch agonizingly slowly. You can feel each ridge of him stretching you open, sliding against your fluttering walls.
Kurt throws his head back, groaning once he feels you clench around him, sucking him deeper. “Half- Halfway there, sweetheart,” he grunts.
You place your hands on his chest for stability, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut once he thrusts shallowly into you.
“More,” you whine, your chest already heaving.
He nods, pulling you down until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. “Sweetheart…” He groans, eyes fixated on where your bodies connect. “You’re so tight, shit.”
The fullness is one that you’ve never felt before. It’s so overwhelming you can’t help but double over, tucking your head into his neck. You press soft kisses against his damp skin, slowly rolling your hips.
His fingers dig into your hips while he lets you grind onto him, low groans mixing with your high-pitched whines. It takes a moment for you to adjust, for the pressure within you to bottom out. Slowly, Kurt drags up your hips, not stopping until only his tip is in.
With little warning, he pulls you back down, the breath knocking from your lungs once his fat tip slams against that sweet spot within you. “Fuck, Kurt!” You moan, gripping onto his shoulders.
He does it again, and again, your moans getting louder and louder, to the point where somewhere in the back of your mind you’re worried someone might hear.
Dragging his legs up, Kurt plants his feet on the seat and fucks up into you harder, groaning praises into your neck. “Feels so good around me,” and “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”
The sound of skin slapping skin fills the small space, the windows quickly fogging with each rock of the car. Your cunt squelches with each thrust up, the sound so erotic and sinful it’s intoxicating.
Your brain only fills with him. Of his hands all over your body, of the feeling of him pounding into you. Of the feeling of coarse pubic hair that keeps catching your clit with every roll of his hips.
In one quick motion, Kurt sits up, placing one hand behind him, the other pressed against your back. In this position, you can feel him even deeper, your eyes rolling back. Arms wrap around his neck, holding him tightly against you.
“You’re, fuck, taking me so well,” he grunts out, turning your head and nipping your fluttering pulse. “S…such a good girl for me.”
His words sear into your skin, your nails digging crescents into the meat of his shoulders. Your words come out in babbles, mixes of “right there” and strings of curses that make next to no sense together.
He shifts you both once again, pressing your back against the seat and hovering over you slightly. Warm fingers wrap around your ankle, and he places it on his shoulder, opening you up to him even more. Almost bending you in half, Kurt snaps his hips harder into you.
A hand reaches down, his thumb rubbing quick, tight circles against your puffy clit, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Oh my god,” you moan, hips grinding up against the pad of his thumb. “Don’t stop, please,” you plead.
In response, his pace quickens, his thumb moving in turn with his hips. Your orgasm builds so quickly you barely have time to warn him, barely have time to do anything but cry out his name.
Your cunt clamps around him, every ridge of his length catching on your sensitive walls. Kurt doubles over at the feeling, your knee almost pressed against your chest. Pleasure tears through your entire body, your teeth clenching so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. You’re almost completely silent for a moment before his name is torn from his lips in a loud, breathless moan.
He slides your knee off his shoulder, hiking it over his hips, drilling into you as he chases his own release. Your name also leaves his lips like an oath, his voice rough and shaking. It takes a few more thrusts before his hips stutter, and he buries himself into you fully. Warmth spreads within you as he releases inside, his cum coating your walls in hot spurts.
“Holy shit,” he pants, collapsing on top of you with his head tucked into your neck. You can feel him twitch inside of you, your hips jerking slightly at the feeling.
With shaking hands, you run your nails up and down his spine, trying to catch your breath. Kurt rubs his thumb up and down your hip bone, shuddering against you still.
Once your breath begins to slow and calm, he pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks down at you with a soft smile, knuckles brushing your jaw. Leaning down, he gently presses his lips against yours.
Slowly, he pulls out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your skin once you whine. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, sliding down onto his seats. The feeling alone makes you shudder.
You stare up at the ceiling of the car as he moves around the small space, gathering tissues from the center console to clean you both up the best he can. “You okay?” He whispers while he helps you get dressed, pulling your panties over your still trembling thighs.
“Yeah, just... Thinking,” you murmur, lifting your hips to help him tug on your shorts.
“About?” Kurt asks, a nervous tone leaking into his voice.
You breathe out, meeting his eyes. “That.. I don’t want that to be the only time we do this.”
His eyebrows raise, lips parting in surprise. His shirt is halfway over his chest, the look on his face almost adorable. “You…” he clears his throat, tugging his shirt all the way down. “Me neither,” he admits, swallowing as you pull on your own shirt, not bothering with your bra.
He lies down next to you on his side, the best he can in the cramped backseat, his arm wrapping around your middle, face muzzling into your neck. You also turn on your side, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.
Kurt chases your lips once you pull back, long eyelashes casting a shadow over his cheeks as his eyes flutter open. A smile spreads on his face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. “What does this mean for us?”
You stop to consider that for a second. Really, you didn’t think that far ahead. But the thought of walking down the street, hand in hand with him, fills your heart with flutters. All in one moment, you imagine movie dates, coffee runs, and late-night talks under the covers with him. “Maybe we could… give us a try.”
“You mean like, date?” He asks, his entire face lighting up.
“Yeah. Like date,” you laugh, unable to help the smile that spreads across your own face, mirroring his.
Kurt laughs with you, leaning forward and peppering kisses all over your face, making you giggle the entire time. He pulls back, almost glowing under the LEDs. “Why did it take us so fucking long to do this?”
“I guess we’re stubborn.”
“We’re? If you asked me to do this with you, like three years ago, I would’ve.”
“You could’ve asked,” you begin, smiling slyly at the look on his face. “See? Stubborn,” you emphasize your words with a peck to his nose.
“Okay, whatever,” he says with a playful roll of his eyes, pulling you against him again.
You bask in the warmth of him, every movement that led you to this moment with him flashing through your head. You think back to your idea from just a few hours ago, how this even started in the first place. “Kurt?”
“Hm?” he hums against your shoulder.
“Are you gonna post the video?”
He freezes next to you.
“Kurt?” You urge slightly, leaning back to look at him.
Eyes darting everywhere but you, his face flushes. “I- Uh… The cameras were never on. I wasn’t… Ever going to post anything…”
Your eyes widen at his admission, your lips parting. Then, you burst out laughing, pressing your forehead against his chest.
You both laugh together, laughing at how stupid you both have been. How dumb the suggestion was in the first place.
growing up with Joe/childhood friends to lovers would be sooo cute 😭
CO - CAPTAIN
joe keery x reader
val speaks - ok when i tell u i took this prompt and ran like its 10k words i need to stop. anyways i had so so much fun writing this n i think its the longest fic ive ever done but i do not have the willpower to proofread it so if u see any mistakes my dearest apologies. i love you! thanku for requesting!
word count: 10k
the street you grew up on in boston was the kind where everyone knew everyone. the houses were close enough that in the summer you could hear people’s music through open windows and smell whatever someone’s mom was cooking three houses down. your house and joe’s were directly across from each other. two old colonials with creaky steps and big backyards that never quite grew grass evenly.
your parents met the week his family moved in.
your mom brought over a pie because that’s what people do, and his mom invited her inside, and within ten minutes there were kids running everywhere. joe had four sisters trailing behind him like a pack of birds, and you had your older brother who already looked annoyed that he’d been dragged into a social situation.
the parents had already decided how it would go. you’d hang out with the girls. joe would probably get along with your brother.
they were wrong almost immediately.
you and joe ended up standing next to each other in the driveway while everyone else talked. he was holding a hockey stick that was almost as tall as he was, tapping it nervously against the pavement.
“you wanna see my backyard?” he asked.
you shrugged. “sure.”
that was basically it.
after that you were attached in a way that made the adults laugh and shake their heads. every day after school one of you would cross the street without knocking. sometimes he’d show up at your back door, sometimes you’d wander into his kitchen like you lived there. it never mattered.
the two of you turned your backyards into entire worlds.
one week they were jungles, full of imaginary animals and secret missions. the next week they were deserts where you were explorers mapping out land no one had seen before. you dragged old chairs and planks of wood and blankets into piles that became forts or pirate ships or whatever the adventure needed that day.
you took it very seriously.
“captains don’t quit” joe would say, standing on top of a wobbly lawn chair like he was addressing a crew.
“you’re not the captain,” you’d argue. “i found the island first.”
he’d think about it for a second, then nod. “fine. co-captains.”
most nights ended the same way.
one of you would ask your parents if you could have a sleepover, and the parents would pretend to consider it even though they both knew the answer was yes. half the time someone ended up falling asleep on the couch anyway.
your brother mostly stayed out of it, and joe’s sisters eventually stopped trying to pull him into whatever they were doing because he was always already busy.
busy meant with you.
when you got older the adventures got smaller but they never really stopped.
by middle school the two of you had discovered 'the creek' which wasn’t actually a creek at all. it was a small pond on the edge of town with a crooked wooden dock that had been there longer than anyone could remember.
it became your place without either of you really deciding that.
almost every night, especially in the summer, you’d walk down there together. the path cut through a patch of trees and opened up to the water, quiet except for frogs and the occasional splash of something moving under the surface.
sometimes you talked the whole time.
sometimes you didn’t.
you’d sit on the edge of the dock with your feet in the water, kicking slowly and watching the ripples spread out.
one night when you were fourteen the air was warm and heavy and the sky still had a little pink left in it from the sunset. you and joe had been there long enough that the wood of the dock had cooled under your hands.
he leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the sky.
“i think i’m done with hockey” he said out of nowhere.
you turned your head. “really?”
he shrugged, like he’d been thinking about it for a while.
“yeah. it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t like it that much anymore.”
this was recent news. his whole life had been hockey practices and games and early mornings at the rink. but the last few months you and his sisters had dragged him to a couple school plays and drama club meetings, mostly as a joke at first.
joe had turned out to be weirdly good at it.
not just good, confident in a way you didn’t usually see.
“you like the drama stuff more” you said.
he nodded a little. “yeah.”
after a second he added, “don’t make fun of me.”
“i wasn’t going to.”
he looked over at you like he wasn’t completely convinced, but then he smiled anyway.
“i think i wanna try acting,” he said. “like actually try.”
you kicked your feet through the water again.
“you should,” you said. “you’re already dramatic.”
he snorted. “shut up.”
“i’m serious. you’re good at it.”
there was a quiet second where he just looked at the water.
“what about you?” he asked.
you didn’t even have to think about it.
“journalism.”
“like a reporter?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
you shrugged. “i like knowing stuff. and asking questions.”
he nodded like that made perfect sense.
the sky had gotten darker by then, the kind of deep blue that shows up right before the first stars.
after a while joe said, “promise something.”
“what?”
he sat up a little, turning toward you.
“promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.”
you rolled your eyes automatically. “why would we?”
“just promise.”
you watched the water for a second, then held your pinky out toward him.
“fine.”
he hooked his pinky around yours without hesitation.
“promise” he said.
and at fourteen, sitting on a crooked dock with your feet in the pond and the whole summer stretching ahead of you, it felt like the easiest promise in the world to keep.
-
high school didn’t change much between you and joe.
if anything, it just made it more obvious.
you were still glued together in the same way you’d always been. walking into school at the same time, leaving at the same time, sitting together whenever you could. people started noticing it more once everyone got older and suddenly everything had to mean something.
by sophomore year people had basically decided for you.
“so how long have you two been dating?” someone asked once, like it was the most normal question in the world.
you and joe looked at each other.
“we’re not” you both said at the same time.
they didn’t believe you.
that happened a lot.
at first you tried explaining it. childhood friends, neighbors, known-each-other-forever type of thing. but people always gave you the same look. the one that said yeah, sure.
eventually you both stopped bothering.
if someone asked, joe would just shrug.
“yeah” he’d say casually.
and you’d roll your eyes but not correct him.
it was easier that way.
high school meant parties now too. the loud, crowded kind where someone’s parents were always conveniently out of town. you’d show up together most of the time, walking through rooms full of people you barely knew, music shaking the walls.
but you never stayed inside for long.
after a while one of you would tilt your head toward the door and the other would already be halfway there.
outside was always quieter.
sometimes you’d end up walking back to your house, crossing the street like you had a thousand times before. a couple years earlier you’d both figured out the perfect way to climb from your bedroom window onto the roof. a loose bit of gutter and a ledge that made it just doable if you knew what you were doing.
it became the new spot.
you’d sit up there with your legs stretched out, looking over the street that had basically raised you both. the neighborhood looked different from up there. smaller, somehow.
sometimes you could hear a party down the block, muffled through the trees.
“we could go back” joe would say occasionally.
you’d glance over at him. “do you want to?”
he’d think for about half a second.
“no.”
so you’d stay.
the creek was still yours too, just not every night anymore. life had gotten busier. homework, practice, rehearsals, everything that comes with being seventeen and thinking every decision matters.
but you still ended up there when things got heavy.
breakups happened. bad ones sometimes.
joe dated a girl junior year who made him miserable by the end of it. you sat next to him on the dock while he complained about the whole thing, throwing little rocks into the water between sentences.
“she said i’m emotionally unavailable” he muttered.
you raised an eyebrow. “you cried during toy story 3.”
“that movie is devastating.”
you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his.
your own relationships didn’t go much smoother. one guy broke up with you over text during winter break and you showed up at joe’s house ten minutes later, still in pajamas, phone clutched in your hand.
he opened the door, took one look at your face, and stepped aside.
“come in.”
that was usually how it worked.
you helped each other through everything. bad relationships, family stuff, school stress, the weird pressure everyone started feeling about the future. the world kept getting bigger and more complicated, but somehow the two of you stayed the same.
he was the kind of person you could sit next to in complete silence without it feeling awkward.
one night senior year you were lying on the roof again, the air cool and the street below quiet except for the occasional car passing through.
joe had his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the sky like he used to on the dock.
“kinda weird we made it this far” he said.
you turned your head toward him. “what do you mean?”
“i don’t know. everyone kept saying high school changes people.”
“did it change you?”
he glanced over at you.
“not the important stuff.”
you smiled a little, looking back up at the stars.
joe nudged your foot lightly with his.
“still co-captains” he said.
and really, you were alway's going to be.
-
by senior year the question everyone kept asking was where you and joe were going to college.
people asked it like it was a joint decision.
for a while, it kind of was.
you spent a lot of afternoons sitting on your bedroom floor or at the kitchen table with laptops open, comparing schools like it was a group project. every time one of you liked a place the other would look it up too.
“this one has a good journalism program” you said once, turning your laptop toward him.
joe squinted at the screen. “yeah but chicago has a better theatre department.”
you both paused.
then you looked at each other.
“chicago?” you said.
he shrugged. “just saying.”
for a while it felt natural to plan it that way. like wherever one of you ended up, the other would just follow. you’d done everything else side by side your whole lives. it didn’t seem that weird.
until one night you were both sitting on your roof again, college websites open, and you both kind of realised it at the same time.
“this is stupid” joe said.
you looked over. “what?”
“we shouldn’t pick schools based on each other.”
you closed your laptop halfway, thinking about it.
he wasn’t wrong.
as much as the idea of ending up in the same place felt easy, it also felt small somehow. like squeezing both of your lives into the same box just because you were used to standing next to each other.
“yeah,” you said after a second. “it is.”
joe nudged your foot with his.
“we’re still gonna be friends.”
“obviously.”
“like… nothing’s changing.”
you nodded.
“nothing’s changing.”
and for the most part, that’s how you treated it.
applications went out. acceptance letters came back. you ended up choosing a school in new york with a journalism program you couldn’t stop talking about. joe the picked one in chicago where the theatre department had a reputation for being intense in the best way.
everyone around you acted like it was some big emotional thing.
you and joe mostly just shrugged.
“planes exist” he said once when someone asked if it would be hard.
“phones to,” you added.
but it hit a little differently the night before you both left.
of course you were at the creek.
the dock creaked under your weight the same way it always had as you sat side by side, your feet dipping into the water. it was late enough that the town was quiet, the air warm but with that hint of fall starting to creep in.
you’d both been talking about random things for a while. dorms, classes, whether or not you’d end up with weird roommates.
then things got quiet.
you glanced over at joe.
his elbows were resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared out at the water. the moonlight caught his face just enough that you noticed something off.
it took you a second to realise what it was.
there were tears in his eyes.
you hadn’t seen him cry much since middle school. maybe a handful of times at most.
you didn’t say anything.
instead you just leaned your head gently against his shoulder.
he didn’t move away.
for a while neither of you spoke.
then joe let out a quiet breath.
“i’m gonna miss you” he said.
your chest tightened a little, but you smiled anyway.
“i’m gonna miss you too.”
he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
“i’m not gonna promise to call you every day,” he added. “because i’ll probably forget.”
you laughed softly against his shoulder.
“honest.”
“but that doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore or that i've forgotten about you” he said quickly, like he needed to make that part clear.
you lifted your head just enough to look at him.
“joe,” you said, smiling. “i know.”
the next morning the two of you went to the airport together.
it felt strange walking through the building knowing you were both leaving, but not in the same direction. your parents were there, his family was there, everyone juggling luggage and last minute reminders.
your gate ended up being first.
you stood there with joe while they called for boarding, the line slowly forming behind you.
for a second neither of you moved.
then you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
he hugged you back just as tight.
“text me when you land” he said into your shoulder.
“you too.”
“and let me know if your roommate is weird.”
you pulled back slightly. “same goes for you.”
he nodded.
it was weird.
standing there, letting go of him and turning toward the gate.
but it wasn’t the kind of weird that felt like losing something.
as you walked onto the plane, it mostly just felt like the start of a new adventure.
and you still had your co-captain
-
the first few months of college were chaos.
everything was busier than either of you expected. classes, new people, assignments piling up.
for a while it felt like you were both just trying to stay above water.
the first couple weeks you and joe texted constantly. random updates, pictures of dumb things you saw on campus, complaints about professors. but eventually the schedules got messy and the messages started spreading further apart.
it wasn’t intentional.
life just filled the space.
so you figured it out.
after a few trial-and-error phone calls and missed texts, the two of you realised you both had thursday afternoons free. no classes. no rehearsals for him. no late newsroom meetings for you.
it became a thing.
every thursday night one of you would call the other and you’d prop your phones up somewhere and watch a movie together. sometimes you actually paid attention to the movie. most of the time you just talked over it.
you’d catch each other up on everything that had happened that week.
joe would tell you about acting classes and weird theatre kids and how exhausted he was after rehearsals. you’d talk about your journalism courses and the ridiculous assignments professors thought were reasonable.
“you had to interview a stranger on the subway?” he said once, half laughing.
“three strangers,” you corrected. “one of them thought i was scamming him.”
he grinned through the phone screen. “you probably were.”
it was still weird sometimes.
there were moments where you’d see something and instinctively turn to tell him before remembering he wasn’t actually there. but the distance never felt like it was breaking anything. you both just adjusted.
years passed like that.
college moved fast. semesters blurring together, trips home for thanksgiving and christmas where everything felt oddly the same and completely different at the same time. sometimes your families even planned things together, like the summer vacation where both households rented a place on the cape.
everyone joked that nothing had changed.
in a lot of ways they were right.
by the time you were nearing the end of college, things started shifting in real ways.
joe had done small acting jobs before. little things here and there. minor roles, student projects, stuff that never quite felt like the big break everyone talks about.
you were always proud of him.
but one night during your usual thursday call he sounded different.
excited in a way you hadn’t heard before.
“wait,” you said, sitting up in your dorm bed. “slow down.”
he ran a hand through his hair on the screen, practically bouncing where he sat.
“okay so there’s this show,” he said. “it’s called stranger things.”
“that’s a good name.”
“right? and i just found out i got the role.”
you blinked. “joe.”
“yeah?”
“that’s huge.”
he laughed nervously.
“i’m playing this guy named steve harrington.”
you could practically see the energy coming off him through the phone.
“i start filming soon,” he said. “like… really soon.”
a couple nights before he had to leave, you flew out to see him.
his dorm looked like a tornado had passed through it. clothes half packed, boxes on the floor, random junk scattered everywhere.
“wow” you said from the doorway.
joe glanced around.
“yeah it’s bad.”
you spent most of the day helping him pack things up. folding clothes, stuffing notebooks into bags, trying to make sense of the mess he’d lived in for the past few years.
at one point he sat down on the floor, staring at the half-filled suitcase in front of him.
“i had to quit my waiting job today” he said.
you looked up from where you were taping a box shut.
“and?”
he rubbed the back of his neck.
“it was so awkward.”
you laughed.
“they were like ‘good luck with your acting thing’ in that voice where they clearly don’t think it’s real.”
you tossed a rolled up sock at him.
“well they’re wrong.”
he caught it and tossed it back.
“i know.”
there was a quiet moment after that.
“this is happening,” he said, almost to himself.
“yeah,” you said softly. “it is.”
things were moving for you too.
a few weeks earlier you’d landed an internship at a small media company in new york. it wasn’t glamorous mostly smaller assignments and write-ups about local events or people.
but it was real work. real bylines.
you’d told joe about it during one of your calls and he’d nearly knocked something over in excitement.
“see?” he said now, pointing at you from across the room. “we’re doing it.”
“we are.”
you both just looked at each other for a second, smiling like idiots.
because somehow you actually were.
when filming started, things got busier for joe.
the thursday calls didn’t happen as regularly anymore. sometimes you’d just get a quick text late at night or a short phone call when he had time between shoots.
but you could tell he was trying.
he’d send you random updates about the set, about the other actors, about the weird hours they kept while filming.
and when filming wrapped around christmas, you both ended up back home in boston at the same time.
the first night you went straight back to the creek.
nothing had changed there.
the same dock, the same quiet water.
joe was pacing a little as he talked, words spilling out faster than usual.
“i don’t know,” he said. “i just really hope this turns into something, you know?”
you watched him for a second before smiling.
“joe.”
“yeah?”
“it will.”
he stopped pacing.
“you really think so?”
you nudged his shoulder lightly as you walked past him to sit on the edge of the dock.
“i know so.”
and honestly, you were completely sure of it.
-
stranger things blew up in a way neither of you had really expected.
when the first season came out, it was suddenly everywhere. clips online, interviews popping up on your feed, people talking about it on the subway, in cafés, in your office. the first time you saw joe on a late-night show you actually had to pause the video halfway through because you were smiling so hard it felt ridiculous.
steve harrington.
your joe.
you’d always known he was good, but watching the world figure it out at the same time was something else entirely.
you texted him the night the show dropped.
holy shit, harrington.
he replied a few minutes later.
shut up.
but you could tell he was happy.
for a while things were still normal enough. you’d text sometimes, call occasionally when schedules lined up. he sounded busier, a little more tired, but still like himself.
then a few months later he mentioned he’d started seeing someone.
he said over the phone one night, sounding a little unsure of how to bring it up.
you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.
“nice,” you said. “do you like her?”
“yeah,” he said quickly. “i do.”
“then i’m happy for you.”
and you meant it.
at first nothing really changed. but a few months into the relationship you started noticing the distance.
texts took longer to come back. calls happened less and less. sometimes you’d send something and get a reply hours later that felt rushed, like he was answering between other things.
you didn’t say anything about it.
partly because you didn’t want to make it weird. partly because you knew his life was moving fast right now. interviews, press stuff, the show exploding overnight.
and you were pretty sure he was getting ready to film season two soon.
it might not even be about you at all.
so you left it alone.
your own life in new york had started taking off too.
the internship turned into real work. real assignments, longer pieces, actual names attached to your articles. you’d started building something for yourself there, slowly, but steadily.
you had a small group of friends now too. people you’d met through work and through other friends, the kind of people who showed up at your apartment with cheap wine and stayed too late talking about everything and nothing.
there was even a guy for a little while.
nothing serious. just a few months of late dinners and wandering around the city at night. it ended easily, without much drama, and you stayed friendly after.
life was good. really good, actually.
just with a small, quiet space in it that used to belong to joe.
sometimes you’d notice it in the weirdest moments. when you saw something funny and instinctively went to text him before remembering you hadn’t talked properly in weeks. or when someone mentioned stranger things and you had to stop yourself from saying i know him.
you wondered sometimes if this was just… how it went.
people grow up. their lives get bigger. friendships that used to take up all the space start fading around the edges.
maybe the friendship that had carried you through your whole childhood had simply reached its natural ending.
even if part of you didn’t really want to believe that.
months passed like that.
you mostly kept up with joe the same way everyone else did. seeing clips of interviews online, the occasional headline, random photos that popped up on social media.
seeing him laugh on a talk show felt strange when you hadn’t heard his voice in weeks.
eventually christmas started creeping closer again.
on the flight home to boston you found yourself staring out the airplane window longer than usual.
you wondered if joe ever missed you.
it was easier for you to see him. he was everywhere online now. but he didn’t have that same window into your life. he couldn’t just open instagram and see your face everywhere.
and even if he could, would he look?
you shook the thought away.
when you got home your mom filled you in on the neighborhood updates over dinner, the usual stories about who moved away or whose kid had gotten engaged.
then she mentioned it casually.
“oh, and joe isn’t coming home for christmas this year.”
you glanced up.
“he’s not?”
“no, he’s staying with his girlfriend.”
you nodded slowly.
“oh. okay.”
and honestly, you were happy for him.
really.
if things were serious enough that he was spending christmas with her instead of flying home, that probably meant he was doing well. building a life somewhere else the same way you were.
that night, while you were sitting on your childhood bed scrolling through your phone, a message popped up.
joe.
merry christmas!
you stared at the screen for a second.
it wasn’t hey, i miss you or how have you been or anything like that.
just simple. just christmas.
but you typed back anyway.
merry christmas.
because maybe this was just what growing up looked like.
even if part of you continued to have that quiet space where your co-captain used to be
-
months turned into more than a year, then longer than that. somewhere along the way the silence between you and joe just settled into something normal.
you stopped expecting texts. stopped checking your phone for his name.
life filled itself in other places.
but every now and then you’d catch yourself thinking about how it used to be.
little things would bring it back. the smell of lake water in the summer, even stupid things like seeing a hockey stick leaning outside someone’s garage.
memories came back easily.
running through your backyards as kids. the roof of your house in high school. thursday night movies during college. the creek, always the creek.
and eventually you realised something that probably should’ve been obvious years ago.
you were in love with him.
not in any dramatic kind of way, it was quieter than that. more like noticing a piece of yourself that had always been there.
looking back at your life and realising how much of it had been built with him standing next to you.
part of you probably still was in love with him.
honestly, he’d been everything to you.
in a lot of ways he still was.
but that didn’t mean you were going to go chasing after him now.
his life had grown into something huge and busy and full of people you didn’t know anymore. and you weren’t about to force your way back into a place where you might not belong.
so you left it where it was.
what surprised you, though, was that you ended up getting closer with his sisters.
you’d always liked them growing up, but as kids you’d mostly been busy with joe. now that you were all adults, the dynamic shifted a little.
kate was the one you talked to the most.
when she texted you one afternoon saying she was moving to new york, you nearly dropped your phone.
seriously? you wrote back.
yeah, she replied. new job. terrified.
you smiled.
don’t worry. i’ll show you around.
and you did.
the first few weeks after she arrived you took her everywhere. small cafés you liked, parks she hadn’t seen yet, the bookstore you practically lived in on weekends. sometimes you’d just wander the city with no real plan, talking about everything from work to family to stupid stories from when you were all younger.
it was really nice. comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected.
one week your brother happened to be in the city too for a work trip. you all met up in central park one afternoon, grabbing coffee from a street cart before sitting on the grass together.
for a moment it felt strangely familiar.
you, your brother, one of joe’s sisters.
just missing the rest of the crew.
“this feels weird” your brother said at one point, glancing around.
kate laughed. “because not everyones here?”
“yeah.”
you shrugged a little.
“yeah. a little.”
but it still felt good.
like reconnecting with pieces of your childhood without having to dig too deeply into the parts that were missing.
that year you didn’t go home for christmas.
work offered you the chance to travel to france for a winter piece, something about documenting the slower pace of life in smaller towns and how it compared to the nonstop rush of big cities.
you said yes almost immediately.
and honestly, it was incredible.
snow-covered streets, long walks through old towns where everything felt slower and softer somehow. you spent weeks bouncing between different places, interviewing locals, writing late at night in small hotel rooms.
it was the kind of thing you’d dreamed about when you first decided you wanted to be a journalist.
one night you were alone in a random hotel somewhere in the countryside, half curled up on the bed with your laptop open, scrolling mindlessly before going to sleep.
a video clip popped up on your feed.
joe.
you almost scrolled past it automatically.
but something made you stop.
it was from an interview. joe sitting on a couch somewhere, laughing about something the host had said. the caption mentioned him talking about his childhood.
you clicked it.
“i loved growing up in boston,” he was saying. “i miss it sometimes.”
you smiled faintly. that part wasn’t surprising.
then he said your name.
you actually blinked at the screen.
“i had this best friend growing up,” joe continued, smiling a little. “we lived across the street from each other. we were basically attached at the hip.”
he talked about you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
about adventures in the backyard, about the creek, about growing up with his sisters and your brother around.
“it was the best time” he said.
something warm and bittersweet settled in your chest.
then the interviewer asked the obvious question.
“are you two still friends?”
joe hesitated.
just for a second.
“i guess… yeah,” he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck a little. “i think we always will be.”
you let out a quiet breath.
right.
okay.
you ignored the part of your brain that wanted to point out the obvious. that he had stopped talking to you a long time ago.
instead you focused on the part that mattered.
that he remembered. that he still appreciated the years you’d spent side by side growing up. that somewhere in the middle of his very big life now, there was still a small place where those memories lived.
-
the next summer you ended up back home for a few weeks.
work had given you a break between projects, and for the first time in a while you didn’t have somewhere else you needed to be. so you flew back to boston and stepped into the same quiet street you’d grown up on.
it felt different.
not physically, the houses were the same, the sidewalks still cracked in the same places, the same trees hanging over the road. joe’s house was still sitting right across from yours like it always had.
but the feeling of it had shifted. like time had moved forward without asking anyone’s permission.
your parents had made a decision while you were gone, apparently.
they got a dog.
“you got a what?” you asked the first morning you were home.
your mom looked very pleased with herself.
“a dog.”
the dog in question was currently sprinting around the kitchen.
“we thought the house was too quiet” your dad added.
so naturally, the next morning you were given the task of walking it.
you clipped the leash on and stepped outside into the warm summer air, the dog pulling slightly ahead of you like it had somewhere important to be.
without really thinking about it, you started walking toward the creek.
partly because the dog needed the exercise.
mostly because you just wanted to go back there.
the path through the trees hadn’t changed at all. same dirt trail, same patches of sunlight breaking through the leaves.
when the water finally came into view you slowed down.
the dock was still there. crooked like always.
you walked out to the end of it and sat down, the wood creaking faintly under your weight. the dog circled once before flopping down next to you, satisfied.
for a while you just looked at the water.
it felt weird being there alone.
your mind wandered the way it always did there, drifting through memories you hadn’t thought about in years. late summer nights, your feet in the water, joe sitting beside you talking about some random thing that suddenly felt like the most important conversation in the world.
and then you thought about the promise.
fourteen years old, pinkies hooked together.
promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.
you smiled faintly to yourself.
after a moment you pulled your phone out of your pocket.
it felt a little ridiculous.
you hadn’t texted joe in… you weren’t even sure how long.
but sitting there on that dock made it feel less strange somehow.
so you typed something simple.
hey. this is kinda random but i’ve been seeing what you’ve been doing lately and i’m really proud of you. hope you’re doing okay. i’m back home for a bit and i’m sitting at the creek and it reminded me of you.
you stared at the message for a second.
then you hit send.
the dog shifted beside you, sighing softly.
you set your phone down next to you on the dock.
it felt good.
not because you expected a reply.
but because a part of you felt settled. like you’d closed a small door that had been left open for too long.
even if he never answered, he’d at least see it.
that was enough.
meanwhile, across the country in los angeles, joe wasn’t doing great.
the last few months had been rough.
he and his girlfriend had broken up. one of those long, messy endings where nothing dramatic happened but everything still fell apart anyway. interviews kept piling up, filming schedules were exhausting, and fame had started bringing a thousand little pressures he’d never really prepared for.
it felt like everything in his life was moving too fast.
he was halfway across his apartment when his phone buzzed.
he almost ignored it.
but when he glanced down and saw your name, he stopped walking entirely.
for a second he just stared at the screen.
your message sat there, simple and calm and completely unexpected.
…i’m really proud of you.
joe felt something twist sharply in his chest.
not because you’d said anything dramatic but because it suddenly hit him that this was the first time you two had spoken in… how long?
years?
how the hell did that happen?
he rubbed a hand over his face, pacing slowly now.
he’d meant to text you. so many times.
he’d thought about it while traveling, while sitting in trailers between scenes, while lying awake in hotel rooms after long days of filming.
i should text her.
i’ll do it tomorrow.
and then tomorrow turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and suddenly it felt too late.
now here you were.
texting him like nothing terrible had happened. just telling him you were proud of him and that you were sitting at the creek.
he could picture it perfectly.
joe leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at your message again.
…i’m really proud of you.
that sentence hit him harder than he expected.
he remembered the first time you’d said that.
you were both maybe seven years old. his little hockey team had won some junior game. nothing official, just a bunch of kids running around on the ice while parents cheered in the stands.
he’d walked out of the rink and there you were, waiting with your parents.
missing teeth. biggest smile he’d ever seen.
“i’m proud of you” you’d said like it was the most important announcement in the world.
later you’d teased him for months about the fact that you’d lost more teeth than him first. you used it constantly whenever you needed to win an argument. and somehow, even after all the premieres and interviews and applause and everything else that came with the last few years joe didn’t think anything had ever felt quite like hearing you say that.
he stared down at his phone again.
a heavy, guilty feeling settled in his chest.
because he had let it get to this. he’d let years pass without fixing it.
and he really fucking hated himself for that.
his thumb hovered over the screen.
for a second he wondered if he even deserved to text you back.
but of course he did anyway.
yeah i’m okay.
he sent it.
then immediately frowned at himself.
that wasn’t really the truth, and it definitely wasn’t how he talked to you. even after all this time it felt weird pretending things were fine when it was you on the other side of the conversation.
actually that’s kind of a lie.
he rubbed the back of his neck while he typed.
things have been a little stressful lately. but i’m alright. mostly.
and i’m really sorry it’s been so long.
he stared at the screen after sending that one.
hope you’re still killing it over in new york.
back at the creek your phone buzzed and you blinked down at it, a little surprised he’d actually replied.
you read the messages slowly, then typed back.
the conversation wasn’t long. just a handful of texts back and forth at first. the kind of awkward catching up that happens when two people haven’t talked in a long time but also know each other too well for it to feel completely strange.
you told him work was going well. he told you filming had been chaotic. you asked how la was treating him.
at one point you mentioned kate.
because she moved to new york a while ago, you typed. we’ve been hanging out a lot. i promised i’d show her around.
on the other side of the country joe leaned back against his counter, reading that line twice.
a weird little twist of jealousy hit him in the chest before he could stop it.
which was stupid.
he had absolutely no reason to feel that way.
but the image of you wandering around new york together made him wish he was the one there instead. wish he was the one seeing you all the time.
that’s good, he typed back.
you eventually stood up from the dock, clipping the leash back onto the dog.
anyway, you wrote, i should probably head back before this dog drags me home herself.
but it was good hearing from you.
he stared at that message for a second before replying.
yeah. it was.
you slipped your phone back into your pocket and started walking home through the trees, the dog trotting ahead of you happily.
even if that ended up being the last time you and joe ever spoke properly, it felt like something had settled into place. like the story had a little more clarity now.
that night, though, your phone rang.
you squinted at the screen from your bed.
joe calling.
for a second you considered letting it go to voicemail out of pure shock.
then you answered.
“hello?”
“hey.”
his voice sounded almost exactly the same.
maybe a little older. a little more tired. but still joe.
and somehow the conversation slipped into place almost instantly, like the last few years had been nothing more than a long pause.
joe started rambling within the first two minutes. something about filming schedules and a ridiculous story about a co-star forgetting their lines in the middle of a scene. you laughed, leaning back against your pillows while the house around you stayed quiet.
then you told him about france.
the small towns. the interviews. the weird hotel rooms.
“that’s incredible” he said.
and you could hear it in his voice, he meant it.
genuinely.
toward the end of the call it was well past midnight for you. the room was dark except for the faint light coming through the window, while joe was sitting somewhere in the middle of a sunny la afternoon.
he went quiet for a second.
“you know what’s weird?” he said.
“what?”
“this feels exactly the same.”
you smiled a little into the phone.
because it did.
even after everything it was still easy. still comfortable in that strange way that only existed between the two of you.
joe leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his hair.
he’d spent years thinking he’d somehow lost his best friend.
and now after one conversation he could feel it again, like it had never really gone anywhere.
“i’m gonna text you more,” he said suddenly. “like actually this time.”
you hummed softly in response.
“okay.”
but the way you said it sounded careful. like you weren’t sure you believed him.
and honestly, that stung a little.
but what else could he expect?
you hung up not long after that.
and for a while, you both meant it. but life slipped in again.
when you were back in new york, things got busy. work piled up, his filming schedules shifted, time zones still made things harder than they should’ve been.
weeks passed. then more. and you didn’t really talk again.
until months later.
you weren’t even thinking about joe that morning.
you were just in the grocery store near your apartment, pushing a cart slowly down the aisle while half-reading a list on your phone.
you turned the corner at the end of the aisle.
and walked straight into someone.
“oh- sorry” you started automatically.
the other person froze.
you looked up.
joe looked like he’d just seen a ghost.
but not in a bad way, more like shock mixed with something softer.
“oh my god” he said.
before you could even react, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
you laughed in surprise but hugged him back automatically, your arms wrapping around him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“what the hell?” you said into his shoulder.
he pulled back slightly, still grinning in disbelief.
“what are you doing here?”
you blinked at him.
“…i live here.”
“right,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “right, yeah. that makes sense.”
you grabbed the cart again, still laughing a little.
joe immediately fell into step beside you and then followed you around the store like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“i’m here for a conference thing,” he said as you grabbed something off a shelf. “like interviews and panels and all that.”
“fun.”
“not really.”
you smiled faintly.
as you reached the checkout area he shifted awkwardly for a second before speaking again.
“i’m in town for the week” he said.
you glanced up at him.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
he hesitated.
“we should… meet up or something.”
-
you did end up meeting up.
a couple nights later you were sitting across from joe at a small restaurant you liked a few blocks from your apartment.
joe kept glancing around like he was taking everything in.
“this place is nice” he said.
“i come here a lot,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “the pasta’s good.”
“good to know.”
for a while the conversation stayed light. catching up properly this time instead of in rushed texts or late night phone calls.
at one point joe leaned back in his chair a little.
“i actually got into music recently” he said.
you raised an eyebrow. “like listening to it?”
“no, like… making it.”
“of course you did,” you laughed. “you can’t just pick one job like a normal person?”
he grinned.
“apparently not.”
you tapped your fork lightly against your plate.
“i actually did a piece a while ago about music in the city,” you said. “small venues, street performers, that kind of thing.”
“really?”
“yeah. it was one of my favourite things i’ve worked on.”
joe nodded thoughtfully.
“that sounds like something you’d like.”
as the night went on the restaurant slowly got quieter. tables emptied, the noise dropped until it was mostly just low conversations and the clink of dishes from the kitchen.
joe had been fiddling with his glass for a minute before he finally spoke again.
“can i ask you something?”
“sure.”
he hesitated slightly.
“do you blame me?”
you looked up at him.
“for why we stopped talking.”
you didn’t answer immediately.
not because you didn’t know the answer. just because you wanted to say it honestly.
“partially,” you said after a moment.
joe nodded slowly, like he’d expected that.
“but i was never mad,” you added. “i kinda just… expected it.”
his brow furrowed slightly.
“expected it?”
“yeah.”
you shrugged lightly.
“you moved on with your life. things got big and busy and complicated. that happens.”
you leaned back a little in your chair.
“so i just decided to be happy with the childhood we had.”
joe looked down at the table for a second.
“and it’s not like i was trying that hard to stay close either,” you continued. “i let myself drift the moment you did.”
he let out a quiet breath.
“yeah,” he said. “that’s… fair.”
after a moment he looked back up at you.
“i’m still really sorry though.”
you smiled faintly.
“i know.”
“i never wanted you to feel like you were something i could just let go of,” he said. “even if that’s kind of what happened.”
you both sat there quietly for a second.
“i just got caught up in everything” he added.
you raised an eyebrow.
“that’s kind of a shitty excuse.”
he snorted.
“yeah. it really is.”
you both laughed.
after a minute joe leaned forward again slightly.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
“will you come home for christmas this year?”
you blinked at him.
“that’s months away.”
“i know.”
“why are you asking now?”
he shrugged.
“just… try.”
you narrowed your eyes at him.
“you’re gonna blow me off again.”
joe scoffed immediately.
“i am not.”
you tilted your head skeptically.
he shook his head, smiling a little.
“just try.”
somehow, months later, it actually happened.
you were home for christmas.
so was your brother. and joe. and all four of his sisters.
it had been years since everyone had been in the same place at the same time, but somehow it worked out that year.
which is how all of you ended up outside in joe’s family backyard, sitting in the old deck chairs that had been there forever.
it was literally snowing.
everyone was wrapped up in blankets and jackets, breath visible in the cold air.
“this is stupid” one of his sisters complained.
“it’s tradition” someone else argued.
and they were right.
every time the whole group was together growing up, you ended up out here eventually. it didn’t matter if it was summer or winter, the backyard had always been the meeting spot.
so now, even with snow dusting the ground and freezing air biting at your noses, you were all sitting there laughing and talking like it was the most normal thing in the world.
your brother was telling some ridiculous story from work. kate was arguing with one of the other sisters. someone passed around mugs of hot chocolate.
joe sat a little quieter than usual.
not because he wasn’t enjoying it. but because he was looking around. really looking. at his sisters. at your brother. at you. at all the people who had been there since the very beginning.
it hit him suddenly how rare something like this actually was.
how rare it was for a group of people to grow up together and somehow still find their way back to the same place years later.
and you. you were the rarest part of it.
joe leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you laugh at something kate had just said.
and for the first time in a long time, he thought about how much he loved you.
-
that night joe couldn’t sleep.
the house was quiet in the way it only gets late at night during winter. the heat humming softly through the vents, the occasional creak of old wood settling in the cold. everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.
but joe was wide awake.
he was lying there staring at the ceiling, thinking about you.
really thinking about you.
about the first time he realised he was in love with you.
he could trace it back pretty clearly now. high school. someone had made another one of those comments. the ones people had been making for years.
are you two dating or what?
normally he’d roll his eyes. normally you’d both deny it automatically and move on.
but that time he didn’t. he’d just shrugged.
“yeah.”
he remembered glancing over at you right after he said it. waiting. half expecting you to make a face or shove his shoulder or laugh and immediately correct the person.
but you hadn’t.
you’d just rolled your eyes and kept walking.
and for some reason that had made something flutter weirdly in his chest.
he hadn’t done anything about it though.
not then. not later.
he dated other people. had real relationships even. girls he genuinely liked, even loved in different ways.
he never said anything to you.
not when you graduated high school together. not when you hugged goodbye before leaving for college. not when he first flew out to start filming stranger things.
never.
the closest he’d come to losing you completely was when you stopped talking those years later. when life got loud and messy and he let distance do what distance does. and even when he met his most recent girlfriend, someone he really did care about, loving her never really erased you.
it just dimmed that part of his brain for a while.
like turning the lights off in a room.
but the room was still there.
so now he was lying there staring at the ceiling wondering one thing.
at what point was enough enough?
he’d already lost you once. he only kind of had you back now. so when was it going to be too late to say anything?
if it wasn’t already.
because honestly, it probably was.
that thought made his chest tighten.
so he did something impulsive.
he grabbed his phone and texted you.
are you awake?
a minute later your reply came through.
yeah.
he sat up immediately.
wrap up and meet me outside.
you didn’t ask why.
you never really did when it came to him.
ten minutes later you stepped outside your house bundled in a coat and scarf, the cold biting instantly at your cheeks.
joe was already waiting across the street.
“hi” you said, breath fogging in the air.
“hi.”
“what’s wrong?”
“nothing.”
you raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.
“okay.”
you started walking.
neither of you said where you were going.
you both already knew.
the path to the creek was icy in patches, the trees bare and quiet under the pale winter moon.
you walked mostly in silence until your foot hit a slick patch of ice and you almost went down.
“shit-”
you yelped, flailing slightly before catching yourself.
joe grabbed your arm instinctively.
“you good?”
“yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “almost died but it’s fine.”
“dramatic.”
“shut up.”
when the pond finally came into view it looked completely different from the last time.
the water was frozen over, a smooth sheet of pale ice stretching across the surface. the dock was still there though. you both walked out to the end and sat down like you had a thousand times before. for a moment you just looked out at the frozen lake.
then you turned your head slightly toward him.
“so,” you said. “what’s wrong?”
joe smiled faintly.
“nothing.”
you studied him for a second.
then, surprisingly, you seemed okay with that answer.
you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky instead.
the stars were sharp in the cold air.
joe watched you quietly.
and he had a sudden, overwhelming thought.
you were always beautiful. he’d known that forever. but moments like this, under moonlight, felt different. like they belonged to him somehow.
selfish. but true.
before he could talk himself out of it, he reached over and took your hand.
you turned your head immediately, surprised.
joe was already looking at you.
“you know,” he said quietly, “i was thinking.”
“that’s dangerous.”
he huffed a small laugh.
“i think i finally know the moment i fell in love with you.”
you froze slightly.
completely caught off guard. for once you didn’t have anything to say.
joe looked back out at the frozen lake.
“i think it was when we decided to be co-captains” he said.
you blinked.
“i didn’t realise it then obviously. not until high school actually”
“what?” you said softly.
he just shrugged again and looked away.
“i just… wanted you to know.”
the two of you sat there quietly for a moment. the words settling into the cold air between you. then you spoke. very calmly.
“when you gave me your ice cream.”
joe turned his head back toward you.
“…huh?”
you smiled faintly.
“that’s when i did.”
“did what?”
“fell in love with you.”
he blinked.
you laughed softly.
“i dropped my ice cream and started crying,” you explained. “and you gave me yours. it was already half eaten.”
the memory came rushing back immediately.
joe stared at you, a soft, almost stunned expression spreading across his face.
for a second neither of you spoke.
then he said quietly,
“i’m sorry i let you down.”
the words hung there for a moment.
you didn’t argue. didn’t tell him he hadn’t. you just shifted closer and rested your head against his shoulder.
and the two of you sat there on the old dock, looking out over the frozen creek, like you had your whole lives.
you stayed there for a while after that.
neither of you really said anything. you were both just sitting there, your head still resting against joe’s shoulder, his hand loosely holding yours while the cold air settled around you.
then suddenly something streaked across the sky.
“oh-” you sat up quickly. “look!”
a shooting star.
you immediately closed your eyes, hands clasped together like you had when you were a kid.
joe rolled his eyes.
“you’re unbelievable” he muttered.
but a second later he sighed and closed his eyes too.
you peeked at him.
“did you make a wish?”
he opened one eye.
“maybe.”
you grinned.
after another few minutes you both finally admitted defeat.
“i think my toes are about to fall off” you said.
“yeah,” joe agreed, standing up and offering you his hand. “we should go before we actually get frostbite.”
the walk back was quiet. the confession hung in the air between you, but neither of you felt the need to dissect it right away. it was just there now, something real that had finally been said out loud.
when you reached the street between your houses you slowed to a stop.
“well” you said softly.
“yeah.”
before you could say anything else, joe stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
it was warm despite the cold air, familiar in the way only he could be. your arms wrapped around him automatically.
after a moment he pulled back slightly.
his hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks.
he was smiling at you.
you smiled back.
you both leaned in slowly, almost carefully. and then you kissed.
it felt like everything at once.
years of history wrapped into one small moment.
when you pulled apart you both just stood there for a second, smiling a little like you couldn’t quite believe it.
“goodnight” you said quietly.
“goodnight.”
and that was it.
you both went inside and went to bed like nothing dramatic had happened. but something had definitely changed.
-
when it was time for you to fly back to new york, joe flew with you.
“i have some time before i need to go back to la” he’d said casually.
you didn’t question it too much.
new york was loud and bright as always when you got back. the city buzzing with that end-of-year energy as everyone prepared for new year’s.
your friends were thrilled when you told them joe was visiting.
they’d heard about him for years, the childhood best friend who showed up in half your stories.
“so this is joe” one of them said when you introduced him.
joe laughed.
“feel like i’m being evaluated.”
“you are” your friend replied.
but they liked him almost immediately.
that night you all ended up packed together in someone’s apartment, music playing, drinks in hand, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.
joe stayed close to you most of the night. not in a clingy way, just near. like he’d always been.
when midnight finally came everyone crowded around the window watching the fireworks burst over the city.
people were shouting the countdown.
“three!”
“two!”
“one!”
cheers erupted around the room.
and before you could even think about it joe leaned down and kissed you again.
this time it felt different. this felt like a beginning. something new unfolding between you. something that hadn’t existed before. and that’s exactly what it was.
-
life didn’t suddenly become perfect after that.
joe still got busy. filming schedules were still chaotic, interviews still happened, life still moved quickly.
but this time he did something differently.
he made sure the things that actually mattered stayed at the top of his list.
you.
you still made him grovel a little, obviously. you reminded him often that he had a lot of years to make up for.
he never complained about it. if anything, he seemed more than happy to earn his way back.
you met the rest of the stranger things cast eventually, long dinners where everyone talked over each other and joe looked weirdly proud every time someone made you laugh.
you met his new friends in la. he met more of yours in new york.
slowly, the two of you settled into something comfortable again. like finding your way back to a place you’d known your whole life.
until one evening, months later, joe finally said it.
you were walking through central park when he suddenly stopped.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
he rubbed the back of his neck a little.
“do you want to go out with me? officially?”
you blinked at him.
“joe.”
“i know,” he said quickly. “extremely overdue.”
you laughed.
“extremely.”
he smiled sheepishly.
“i swear i’ll make it worth it.”
you studied him for a second before nodding.
“okay.”
because of course you would.
honestly, you were kind of glad to finally have joe earning his way back into your life properly.
and joe had never been happier to have his co-captain back.
