Playing with Steve’s hair
Just a little blurb about playing with a stressed out baseball cap wearing Steve’s hair in the back of a broken down WSQK van.
warnings:my blog is 18+, friends to lovers, a little hint of touch starved steve, season five moody steve.
Steve sighs when you slip the baseball cap off his head, readjusting where he lays on your lap in the back of the WSQK van. The dark chestnut of his hair is even messier than usual, and a little damp from the sweat that had collected inside the worn in nylon. Your fingers slide through the thick silk of it, pushing his signature swoop back, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along his scalp. He groans at the feeling, the deep stress lines that had made a permanent home on his forehead softening, smoothing out so you can see the secret freckles that kiss his sunkissed skin.
One big hand wraps lazily around your leg, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your calf. The other lays across his stomach where his camo shirt rides up, revealing an even darker happy trail that leads to a full thatch of hair on his chest you’ve only seen a few times and tried desperately not to stare. Lately though, it’s felt an awful lot like he wants you to. You weave your fingers through the thick of it, twisting them just a little bit before tugging lightly.
”Jesus Christ that feels good.” He grumbles, his eyebrows marrying in the middle, jaw going slack when you do it again.
“It’s supposed to feel like I’m pulling it out.” You whisper quietly, doing your best to help him get rid of the headache that turned into a migraine stranded on the side of the road.
You scratch along the side of his head, running your fingers through the baby hairs that curl around his ear, making him hum like you’ve hit a sensitive spot. He turns his head to the side in a silent plea to do it again, the tip of his nose pressing into your tummy. You wonder if he can feel the butterflies there. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth you oblige him, the grip he has on your calf tightening just a little bit. A loud breath escapes through his nose, before it nuzzles deeper into you. The windowless back of the van blocks his sensitive eyes from the sun outside, leaving just a small warm beam that shines against the signal tracker. The tiny fuzz of the shag lining dancing inside the light of it.
”How much longer till Henderson said they’d be here again?” He mumbles, scooting his body closer, his hand sliding further up your leg until he's holding your thigh.
“Like an hour.” You sigh, the tips of your fingers smoothing out the annoyed wrinkle that forms on his forehead at the news, daring them to slide down the slight stubble that lines his jaw.
He doesn’t respond, instead he just angles his face up in a way that encourages your wandering hands to keep going, a low appreciative hum slipping from between his lips when they do. You trace down the slope of his nose, lashes tickling at the tops of your cheeks feeling the heat of his breath against your skin.
”Maybe uh - “ He clears his throat a little, turning his head to look up at you with pretty hazel eyes despite the lavender bags underneath them. “Maybe tonight we could sneak away and watch some of the movies we snagged from Family Video before they locked it down.”
Your fingers pause on their path along his favorite spot around his ear, trying to figure out if Steve Harrington was asking you out during the end of the world.
”I mean only if you want to you know, like no pressure, it’s totally coo-“
”Only if I get to pick the movie.” You interrupt with a poor attempt at being coy, but it seems to work with the way red starts to paint his cheeks.
”Deal, I mean you have like five to choose from but whatever you want.” He smiles like it’s easy, like it’s not something you haven’t seen him do in what felt like months and it makes your heart skip a beat.
