(Spider-Man!Steve Harrington x reader)
Summary: Being Steve Harrington and Spider-Man is hard to balance. Love life is an absolute no, but when Steve gets hurt while fighting crime, he knows exactly which window to crawl through.
Word count: 5.6K (sorry, it’s a long one!)
🗒️: modern!Au, Steve is emotionally and physically neglected! Sorry! Angst! Cause yk me! Steve gets hurt, mentions of blood, etc. x reader, no use of y/n, probably not very good writing
Mango talks 🥭 : hello! It’s been a while, I’m so sorry for the delay on this fic. Life’s been crazy! I rushed a sorority so I’ve been focusing on that. Not really sure how I feel but, hey! We all gotta try new things! I hope you enjoy reading spider-man Steve, I really love this concept. Once again, requests are open, if you sent me a request I have seen it and will get to it soon! Thanks again, happy reading xx 💕
Oh, side note, I tried to make the reader in this fic more gender neutral! Wanted to try it out and be more inclusive :)
It had been exactly 409 days since Steve found out he:
Could now crawl on and stick to walls.
Has precognitive senses that alerts him about danger, which he coined the “Steve-sensation.” He chuckled to himself at his own cleverness when he thought of this.
Has superhuman strength and durability, and was strong as shit. He was strong before, sure, but now he was basically like the Hulk. He could now also pull bets and pranks on his friends.
“Lucas, Watch me bench press this”
“No way dude- that shit’s too heavy” Lucas sneered.
“I’ll bet you five bucks”
Steve was now five bucks richer.
He also had fast healing. All his basketball injuries from getting shoved and thrown around (purposefully) by Billy Hargrove on the court were all gone in the next day or two. He enjoyed watching Billy’s face turn into a big fat tomato full of anger and confusion due to the fact that pretty boy Steve Harrington was unbreakable somehow.
Safe to say, Steve’s powers were pretty cool. They helped him realize he now had a purpose, which he never thought he had before. To protect the little guy. That was always his thing, he was the protector and the babysitter, he put himself in front of danger to spare the lives of the people he loved. If he could make New York City a little safer for his friends, no, they were his family, he would gladly get beat to a pulp every night.
It was really lonely though, not being able to tell anyone about his newfound superpowers. Steve figured the more people knew, the more danger everyone would be in. So every night, he would go on patrol around the city, beat up muggers and bad guys, get beat up himself, get home at three in the morning, do a really shit job at patching himself up, go to bed, and then wake up the next morning for school and repeat the routine the following night.
He didn’t have to do much sneaking around with his parents being emotionally and physically negligent, but somehow it made him feel worse. He hated knowing he was coming home in the middle of the night and nobody cared. No light left on, no parents standing on the front porch pacing, and no one to scold him with “Steven Harrington! Do you have any idea how late it is?” Or “we were worried sick about you!” Because nobody knew. And nobody cared.
That was until day 233. Steve was sure he was alone one night in his giant empty house. Cuts on his face for display, bruises around his eyes, and surely a broken nose. All he wanted was to take off his suit and crash on to his bed, maybe even hang upside down for a bit to decompress, but when he took his mask off in his bedroom and sighed the sound of relief, he heard a giant thud outside of his bedroom door.
Robin’s mouth was agape, her soda slightly hanging from her lips, and Dustin had dropped his bucket of popcorn on the hallway floor before slowly pointing at Steve.
Dustin and Robin had way too many questions. A lot of who’s, when’s, why’s, and where’s. Though they were both loud, obnoxious,and absolutely terrible at keeping their mouths shut, they swore themselves to secrecy. They knew the gravity of the situation they were in and the importance of keeping Steve’s identity a secret. It just kind of blew their minds that their best friend, Steve the Hair Harrington, co-captain of the basketball team, and king of their high school, was Spider-Man. Seriously. It started to make Dustin question whether he could have any secret superpowers he had no idea about.
Dustin and Robin proved themselves to be very helpful in Steve’s endeavors. They were now Steve's “guys in the chair” whatever the hell that means. Dustin, being the super nerdy genius that he is, was able to create web fluid for Steve so he could easily get from place to place by swinging.
“I introduce to you” Dustin pulls his arms out and gives some enthusiastic jazz hands “web fluid!” ta da! he mouthed.
“Why don’t we call it uh” Steve puts his hands on his hips, he looked perplexed, “I don’t know..Steve’s spider string?”
“It’s web fluid, Steve!” Dustin scolded, “that I created! With my genius! not some silly string you picked up from a Five-below!”
“Jeez okay- I’m just saying, I’m pretty good at naming things, you ever heard of my Steve-sensation?” Dustin face-palmed. This guy was saving New York City? He was actually quite pleased though, Steve was his role model in his everyday life (not that Steve needed to know and inflate his ego) and Spider-Man was his cool-vigilante role model, now he could just mix and morph them together as the same person.
Robin really had no clue that Steve was the guy dressed in a red and blue skin tight suit parading around the city fighting crime. Whenever he came into class looking like a zombie with a few cuts on his face, she just kind of assumed he was with a girl the previous night, and they got a little, well, freaky. Now that she knew what was really going on it made her heart ache to think that he was doing this all alone, she blamed herself for not noticing something was wrong with him, it was her job as his friend. She could’ve helped in little ways, like maybe doing his homework for him while he was on patrol, or taking notes so he wouldn’t have fallen behind. For Christ sake, he was literally bringing crime rates down all over New York City, and he doesn’t get anything from it except an F in history, hate from the New York Police Department, and getting scolded by his basketball coach for not having his head in the game anymore. Robin was glad she could help, even if it was something as small as being navigation and listening in with Dustin on the police scanner.
“Okay, on your left” Robin spoke into her walkie, she liked being the guy in the chair, it was like she was in a spy movie.
“Okay” Steve was panting as he was swinging, “ damn it- it’s just a wall in an alley. Are you sure it was left?”
“Oh! Sorry, shit-um, my left, your right.”
“I think we have the same left right now.”
“Oh.” She grimaces, “go right.”
Steve sighed, making his way out of the alley. As he was swinging out, he caught a glimpse of an angel. You.
Suddenly Steve forgot where he was and what he was doing, he forgot he was in his bright tight suit, all he could focus on was you and how you looked with earbuds in your ears, walking the sidewalk, looking gorgeous as ever. People rushed by you, scattered around like ants, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you for a second. Did you always wear your hair like that? Was that jacket you were wearing new? There were so many things he wanted to say, just not enough time.
You two were lab partners last year and you saved his ass multiple times. Steve and chemistry just don’t mix (well, not unless it came to you.) You never made him feel stupid or rolled your eyes when you found out you were partnered with him, if he didn’t know something you’d simply explain to the best of your ability. Eventually the flirting but totally not flirting began, the glancing at each other from across the hallway, the need to lightly graze each other's hands during lab but the feeling like you’re going to get burned. It all felt real, that was until Steve became Spider-Man. His entire world flipped upside down and everything he knew suddenly wasn’t legible anymore. He remembered asking you on a date and when you said yes, he remembered jumping up and down in the hallway when nobody was there because he couldn’t hold in his excitement any longer, but he also remembers having to cancel on you at the last minute when there were thugs doing a major car robbery downtown. He rescheduled, once again excited, only to have to cancel due to a big heist going down at the bank. Then again. And again. And again.
Every single time, he could see the hurt in your eyes, and your voice low, like a whisper, saying, “we don’t have to do this.” No. No. He swears on everything, he wants this, he wants it so bad. He wants you so bad. When he tells you, you just don’t believe him anymore. And he can’t blame you. You tell him you’re starting to feel like an inside joke he probably has with his friends. A joke about how desperate you can get and how far along you’ll let him drag you. You tell him you’re not a plaything like the girls he hooks up with. Girls he purposely stopped meeting up with because he wanted something real and permanent with you, but you don’t know that. You finally tell him that if he wants to make this real, if he wants to put effort into you and treat you right, you’ll be waiting for his call.
But the call never comes. Because he knew.
He knew he could never treat you right while balancing this other part of himself that he couldn’t tell you about. He couldn’t even plan one date with you without something getting in the way. How did he plan on trying to start a relationship with you that was either built on lies or empty promises? It was dangerous, and the more people he let in, the more people he could lose, and he couldn’t bear to lose you. He needed to put his own desires and his selfishness aside, he had a duty and a responsibility to protect the citizens of New York City, but especially you. He could beat himself up ten times over, but it helped him sleep a little easier knowing he made the streets safer for you to walk down. His absence confirmed to you that you were a joke, and as much as it broke his heart, it was a price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.
He watched you from afar, all the time. In class when he should’ve been catching up on either his lack of sleep or paying attention to a class he was failing. He watched you smile in the hallways and how your smile falters when you see him and try to ignore his presence. It’s a little creepy, he knows, but he watches you when you roam the streets at night, on the notion that he wanted to make sure you got home safely, because he’s Spider-Man and that’s what the hero does, (definitely not also because he wants to see you.) All he wants to do now is run up to you and come clean. Something on the lines of “yes, I’m Spider-Man. I've been hiding it for a year. I’m sorry about that. Do you want to kiss now?” But he can’t do that. So he just watches.
“Steve!” Dustin shouts in his ear, the crackling making Steve screech a little in pain. With all his focus on the beautiful creature in front of him, he forgot Dustin and Robin were watching as well.
“Jesus- Henderson, I’m here. What?” Steve responds back in his ear piece. Still having his eyes on you.
“Would you stop staring at your one that got away and instead focus on the fact that the truck you were supposed to stop is about to crash into town hall! Like right now!”
“You’re right- You’re right, I’m on my way” and just like that, Steve takes one last glance at you before swinging to save the day. As he leaves, you turn your head to look at the rooftop adjacent from you. You felt like a presence was watching, but not in a creepy or scary way, like a guardian angel was watching over you.
If you’re in a fight, with multiple people, and you turn around, and some douchebag hits you in the head with a brick, you’re probably going to lose. And lose bad. Doesn’t matter if you have superhuman abilities, a brick to the head is a brick to the head.
Laying painfully on the building’s rooftop, Steve could barely feel his limbs. At first he was not actually sure if his left leg was attached to his body, but he looked down, phew, still there. His vision was hazy, his ears were ringing, and the large quantities of blood exiting his body was starting to get unbearable.
“Steve!” Dustin screams into his walkie, “Steve are you dead?” Steve could imagine Robin pacing frantically behind Dustin when he heard her yell at Dustin.
“Oh my god! He’s dead! He’s so dead- how do we even explain this to a morgue- yeah, sorry our friend was beaten to death, don’t mind the outfit he’s wearing, he’s Spider-Man, well! Not anymore, because you know, he’s dead!”
Steve spit out blood on the concrete before pressing his ear piece and responding back, “not dead”
“Oh thank God!” Robin gasped in relief “are you okay?”
“Never better” Steve grabbed his bruised ribs and hobbled. He knows he’ll wake up the next morning and he’ll be good as new, but right now, all he can think about is how much this hurts, and how much he wants to take a nice steamy shower and finish watching the latest episode of The Secret Lives Of Mormon Wives.
“Get back here and we’ll fix you up, okay buddy?” Dustin says reassuringly, that would be nice, but Steve has other ideas.
“I got it figured out, you guys should go home. Get some rest”
“What?” Dustin and Robin speak at the same time.
“What do you mean you got it?” Robin asked, he was beaten to a pulp.
“I mean I got it. Trust me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow”
“Steve!-” Steve shut off his earpiece. He walked to the edge of the rooftop and just stared down at the dark streets, people looked like ants from up here. When he looked up at the New York city skyline, he took in how serene it was. He remembered what it was like to sit on a rooftop and just collect his thoughts, back when he was just a normal person, something he’ll never get again. As he took one last breath, he mapped the way to your house.
Steve knew how to deal with injuries like this, before Dustin and Robin, it was just Steve home alone, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a prayer. This wasn’t the point though, he wanted you specifically to comfort him and clean his wounds, he wanted your hands specifically. Even though you two hadn’t talked in a while, Steve’s overdramatic thought when getting beaten up, was ‘shit. I never got to tell them the truth.’ So now here he is, at your window on the verge of death waiting for an angel to let him in.
You didn’t hear the knocks at first, as it blended in with the rain and you had ear buds in, listening to a study jazz playlist. You were focused on finishing your assignments, granted they were due a week from now, but getting an early jump on things never hurt anybody. That’s the person you were: proactive and ahead of the game. The knocks repeated, getting increasingly louder. Steve was losing his patience a little, this was supposed to be kind of romantic at first, but now he’s basically bleeding out all over your fire escape, and it probably won’t be very adorable finding his unconscious body laying face down on the ground in the morning. Jesus, how locked in are you that you can’t hear him banging on the window?
When you quickly take out your earbuds, there you see him. Steve Harrington. Or at least the bloody carcass that remains of him. You quickly scramble to your feet and push up your window. He’s bleeding. A lot. In a red and blue spandex nonetheless.
“Surprise?” Steve smiles softly. The horrified look on your face doesn’t wipe away with the joke, you’re still standing there in shock.
“What the hell happened to you?” You manage to shout in terror. Forget the costume he’s in, his gashes and bruises make you nauseous. Steve tumbles slightly, you quickly duck yourself under his arm and lead him over to your futon, laying him down as gently as you can, making sure not to injure anymore of his body.
Steve smirks, “You should see the other guy.”
“Steve. I think you are the other guy.” That’s fair. He was banged up pretty bad. He didn’t want to worry you or anything, he knows how it looks, and he’ll explain that he’ll heal up in a couple days, but for now, he just wanted you to take care of him. Perhaps be a little domestic for a little while before reality hits the fan again and he realizes Spider-Man doesn’t have time for a love life.
“I don’t-“ you gulp and gag at the same time “I don’t know what to do- should I- call the ambulance or?”
“Yeah, that’s a no,” Steve replied quickly. He should’ve realized how much he was asking of you before barging in here unwanted. You’re a regular person who didn’t expect to see Spider-Man at their window asking for help.
“Aid!” You blurt out, your hands expressive and sudden.
“What?” Steve laughed, a little amused.
“Sorry- First aid. I have- I uh have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Your mouth was racing faster than your mind, “don’t move.” Steve wasn’t planning on it, he physically couldn’t.
As you shuffled around in your bathroom, finding the kit, Steve admired your room and took in every detail of it like there was going to be a quiz. From your posters on your wall it was clear you enjoyed shows like Doctor Who and The Twilight Zone. On your desk you had little trinkets of different crystals and rocks, along with a vase of sunflowers. Seeing from your decor, you really liked cats. These were all things he learned about you by being in your room. It made him smile yet feel heavy at the same time, so many things he could have seen sooner if life didn’t lend him such an unfortunate hand. Things he could’ve learned about you through interactions and your dates, instead of the current situation. Instead of coming through your window to be patched up, he would’ve rang the doorbell, flowers in hand, and greeted you at the door. He would’ve shaken hands with your father, Chief Jim Hopper and have been cordial and polite, just as Steve Harrington.
The irony doesn’t slip over Steve’s head. He’s the masked vigilante and your father is the chief of the NYPD who wants Spider-man behind bars or his head on a spike. This would’ve made for an interesting Thanksgiving conversation.
“Got it!” You call from the bathroom, Steve would be lying if he said the thought of your hands wiping away his cuts and feeling his skin didn’t make his heart thump at least a little bit. You open the kit carefully, you’ve never done anything like this before. Your only true experience was wiping out while doing a gnarly skateboard trick and falling flat on your face and having to clean yourself up, afterwards you got a scar right under your bottom lip (Steve notices.)
“This is going to hurt” you whisper, gently taking a wet clean rag and gently dabbing it on Steve’s cuts, he winces slightly but takes the pain quite well. You look at him apologetically before mouthing a small sorry. “Well, you got a lot of explaining bug boy.” Pointing to his torn up outfit. Steve doesn’t think the dry cleaners are going to be able to clean this one.
“What? This old thing?” He feigns ignorance, you respond back, by rubbing the cloth a little harder against his skin. He lets out a scream so loud, you think it could be heard all the way in Timbuktu. You very quickly put your hand over his mouth, giving him an unimpressed look. It was too late, however, the shot round the world was already fired, and your father knocked on your bedroom door, calling your name. You both stare at each other with wide eyes before Steve jumps on to the ground behind your Futon and you race to answer the door.
Once you reach for the doorknob, you turn to Steve and point at him sharply, putting a finger to your lips and signaling to shut up and don’t move, in fact, don’t even breathe. Steve thought it was cute how concerned and untrusting you were, he mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“Yes?” You answer the door timidly, opening the door a sliver so only your body is in view.
“Thought I heard something in here, like” your dad furrows his eyebrows. Hopper combs his mustache with one hand before gesturing with the other, “like wailing? Or a girly scream?” Steve frowns to himself, he doesn’t sound like that!
“You sure? You sure you’re not doing some kind of ritualistic sacrifice in here?”
“Not that I’m aware of” you smile, you tried to make it seem as charming and innocent as possible to ward off suspicion. Hopper only gave you a look, one eyebrow up and a squinted eye, a classic look of I feel like something’s up, I just can’t prove it.
“Alright well I’m heading off, that Spider-Man guy was out and about again, and now it’s my problem.” Hopper huffs, “that little bastard. He’s like a rock in my shoe and a pain in my ass.”
Steve scoffs at this, he stopped a truck going at 90 miles an hour from crashing into town hall, with his bare hands, and then he got beat up afterwards. What do the police do lately other than stuff their face holes with donuts and criticize Spider-Man from doing the job they’re supposed to be doing? If anything, Steve thinks he’s being more than helpful. He’s not asking for the NYPD to bow down at his feet or give him a nice fruit basket, just maybe getting off his back would be nice and perhaps a small thank you.
You try to play devil’s advocate “well, I mean,” you start, a little nervous at your father’s reaction, “isn’t he just trying to keep people safe, just like you?”
Your dad studies you, “He’s a masked vigilante who’s getting in the way of my work, that’s what he’s doing. He’s reckless” Putting his hat on his head, he continues “Whoever this guy is, he needs to leave it to the NYPD. He can’t just parade around in a clown suit doing whatever the hell he wants.”
“I know. I just, I just think you don’t understand him dad.” not like I do. Your dad wasn’t a bad guy, he could be what some people might say: a hardass. He was stubborn and set in his ways, something you take after him. While you had a great relationship with your father, this was a topic you two could never agree on. Your dinners consisted of mashed potatoes, meatballs, and friendly lively debates on the web-slinger:
“He’s a hero dad, he’s keeping citizens safe!” you would argue, waving you cutlery around
Hopper shoves his mouth full of food before talking, “No.” he chews,“ he’s a masked vigilante who operates illegally, emphasis on illegally, outside of the law!”
“Hop! Stop speaking with your mouth full” Joyce, your father’s girlfriend would scold. She was really the only one who could keep him grounded, you loved it. It was always just you and your dad before she came along, she became the mother figure you never had. She taught you how to put on make-up, took you shopping, and had nights out with you on the pretense that Hopper is a grumpy old man, let’s just go out, the two of us. Above all else, she was super cool.
While your debates at the dinner table were unserious and friendly, it felt different here standing in front of your father knowing you were technically aiding and housing a fugitive inside your bedroom, and the fact that this masked menace your dad hated wasn’t some crazy guy at all, he was just a kid. A teenage boy who goes to your school, who hates chemistry class, who likes to play basketball, and loved bringing you a clementine whenever you two had lab because he knew you forgot to eat. Steve might’ve hurt you, but he wasn’t a monster.
“Maybe I don’t, I don’t know his intentions. But I can’t just sit on my ass and find out, especially if that puts you in danger.” Steve understands Hopper’s need to keep you safe but that’s all Steve wants too, he would never hurt you. Not in a million years. Hopper kisses you on the forehead before rubbing your hair, “I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.”
You were about to shut the door when you heard him shout something down the hall, “And by the way- just because you have a t-shirt with his face on it and have a big crush on the guy, doesn’t mean I have to like him.” Your face goes bright red, you feel the heat bouncing off your cheeks and can only imagine the smug look on Steve Harrington’s face. You cringe, still facing the door before turning around and looking at Steve who was already watching you, a devious smirk creeping on his lips.
“Shut up.” Your voice full of snark and embarrassment, continuing to bandage him.
Steve puts his hands up biting back his laugh “I didn’t say anything!” The look on his face really made it seem like he wanted to, but he just continued watching as you disinfected and wrapped his wounds, his eyes were like daggers digging into you and all you could try to do was avoid his eye contact while you two sat so closely. Hey, it’s not like you knew your old situationship was Spider-Man, and you’re hoping he doesn’t think you knew because that would make you appear to be a superfan-stalker.
“So” Steve coughed, “T-shirt with Spiderman’s face on it, huh?” he smiles, still trying not to laugh, he loved watching you flustered, it was adorable and he couldn’t get enough. You rebuffed him by tightening one of the bandages a little tighter than necessary, which made him groan in pain.
“My dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about” you lied, “he started new medication and now he’s imagining this.” Steve is still watching you, like he’s trying to memorize all of you before you disappear again. “Either way! Even If I did, I just admired him- you. I guess.” It’s weird to think your celebrity crush was the same guy that made your heart flutter in chemistry class. “I mean he was cool, before I knew it was you, now? I'm not so sure.” Your tone got serious and your once positive demeanor dropped below zero.
The tension in the room rose, it was silent for a bit. “I’m sorry.” Steve sighed, he gazed at you, and you were trying hard to avoid his eyes. Because maybe, just maybe if you did, you’d break.
“For what?” You sigh, was it for coming through your window unannounced? Was it for breaking your heart last year? something you’re still trying to put together, or was it for lying to you? Your hands were gentle on his skin, he wanted you to just keep you there, against him, forever and always.
“For everything. For this- I just, I’m sorry.” Your gaze still on his body, trying to keep yourself occupied, he brings his index finger and thumb to your chin “please, look at me.” You do. Now he was to say everything he wanted to. The pressure was on, and his heart was aching for you. “I’m sorry for everything last year, I promise you, on everything, you were never a joke to me. I just- how could I tell you about this without putting you in danger, and I mean- your dad? Come on, I couldn’t put that strain between you two.”
“I would’ve kept your secret. If you told me.” Your throat was tightening. “ I would’ve waited for you by the window and I would’ve learned how to sew stitches and clean deep cuts. I would’ve done that for you.” Your eyes were glassy and you were trying your best to keep your composure. You couldn't let him see how much he affected you over the past year. “I waited for you, to tell me what was going on, why you kept canceling. You never came. I waited a year, Steve. Sometimes I feel like I’m still waiting.” To you, Steve was like a fleeting dream, a fantasy like Peter Pan, waiting by your window or your phone for a call, but that’s all it was, a fantasy that was unobtainable.
That broke Steve’s heart even more. He gently placed his hands on the side of your face, and sat up, he ignored the pain on the sides of his ribs that told him to lay back down, “Hey, hey, look at me. I want you.” He started, “I always wanted you.” Please believe me. You can feel yourself melting into his hands like putty. “I thought about you every minute for the past 409 days. I even-“ he looked down embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well I, kind of I guess, watched you. From far away.” It suddenly clicked, the guardian angel wasn’t just any guardian angel at all, it was specifically a teenage boy with amazing hair, and a smile that could light up the world.
“What? Like a stalker?” You joke through the tears forming in your eyes.
“No!” he laughs, “okay, no. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe and nobody was ever hassling you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. Steve fails to mention that the day after you both stopped talking, he watched a guy follow you home during his patrol, you were unaware with your headphones on. Steve swooped in faster than lightning, webbing the guy up on a side of a convenience store building, taping a sign next to him saying “I like to make people uncomfortable and I’m a leach to society…And I'm stinky.”
“I wanted to tell you. For so long, but then- I kept thinking, the more I involved you in this, this Spider-man life, the more danger I'd put you in.” Steve holds your hands like he’s scared you’ll disappear, or worse, run away from him. “I just needed to stop being a selfish idiot and put how much I needed you aside to protect you. I don’t know why I came tonight- maybe that’s stupid, but I really just needed to see you, up close. But maybe that was dumb, and I’m just being a selfish idiot again-”
“-You need to stop doing that” you whisper, Steve tenses, he’s unsure what you’re talking about or what your next reaction will be. “Stop thinking that you need to protect everyone by yourself, that you got to do everything alone. Stop thinking you don’t deserve happiness because you do, Steve.” You grip on to his hands a little tighter. His eyes softened, he always believed that his purpose was to protect the people around him, that he had to put all his blood, sweat, and tears into it. That was his role and he played it well, but what about him, at the end of the day, who protects Steve Harrington?
“I’ll make you a deal. You look after me, and watch me from those rooftops all you want or whatever” this makes Steve chuckle “and in return, I’ll have your back. No more secrets between us. You can come through the window whenever you want, I'll stitch you up.”
“And then what?” Steve asks eagerly, his voice cautious, like he wants to cross a line, but he just has to be invited in.
“I mean- now that we have no more secrets. I don't want to just come through your window as Spider-Man when I'm bleeding out. I want to come here, knock on your door with a bouquet of flowers, shake your dad’s hand, and take you on a proper date, for real this time. Just me, Steve Harrington, the same guy I’ve always been. I’m just scared we can’t make it work. Maybe this shit’s just too complicated and maybe Spider-Man doesn’t get a happy ending.” Steve laughs, you’ve always noticed how his humor was a little self deprecating to hide his true vulnerability.
“We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together, as a team.” You reassure him, before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
Steve felt like he was melting. He leaned in slightly, ready to capture your lips on his, but you leaned back. “Easy, bug boy. You need to rest up, we can do all that tomorrow.”
Steve only smiled and laid back, he waited an entire year for you. Steve Harrington can wait one more day if it means having you forever.
Mango talks 🥭: thanks for reading! Make sure to check out my other fics on my page xx
