"Blue Magic" | steve harrington x sinclair!camille
summary: erica does not appreciate steve harrington interrupting a very important sacred ritual between her and her sister.
HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH
warnings: this doesn't really follow any significant canon. there is no mention of the upside. erica having a bit of a month and attitude, allusions to violence from a child
The third Sunday of every month was blocked off not only for Erica Sinclair but also for her older sister, Camille. This was a ritual they had for as long as Erica could remember.
It was a sacred day for the two of them that Erica never missed, and she made sure her family rescheduled events around her standing appointment.
Erica only let her sister touch her hair, not even her mom had that privilege.
The smell of coconut and bergamot brought her serenity and calm. Erica knows that the smell will always be associated with her sister. It's a perfume she never wants to go stale.
She looks forward to hair days as it's really the only time she can play with her hair or, better yet, get a nice scalp massage, frizz be damned. Erica is coming down the stairs with her pillow, which she specifically uses to sit on when she gets her hair done, when the doorbell rings.
Erica scowls at the audacity of someone interrupting her time with her sister. She tells Camille that she will get the door as she rushes to turn them away.
Sunday visitors were rare.
And she knows it's not one of her brother's nerd friends, as they didn't understand the meaning of knocking or ringing a doorbell outside of Will. Besides, Lucas is out of the house, and he knows the repercussions of any interruptions to the peace and quiet of her day.
Her friends knew better than to interrupt this day and not plan any major event; to be her friend, this was part of the terms and conditions of association.
She knows Camille never invited anyone over. Despite never saying anything outright to her about how she feels about this day, she knows her sister can tell.
God forbid it is a solicitor; Erica will ensure the person and their company never darken not only their doorstep but their street.
The person is lucky that she wasn't sitting with her hair already parted. The verbal whooping they would get would be worse. She would make them wish Lucifer himself had opened the door.
She answers the door ready to give them a piece of her mind when she falters at the sight of Steve Harrington holding a bouquet of lilies.
Her eyebrows skyrocket into her hairline.
This has been a very interesting development she has watched unfold since the start of both Camille’s and Steve's junior year last autumn. And now, as they edge closer to their senior year, she is sure everyone is waiting with bated breath for the Head Cheerleader, valedictorian, and student council president and Captain of the swimming and basketball team to get together.
In her opinion, Steve is punching above his weight with her older sister.
Her sister has been mum about Steve “The Hair” Harrington.
Yet, Erica isn't dumb.
She knows her sister likes the boy. Erica has been subjected to many of Steve's attempts at flirting, which have included flowers, rides to places, dinners, movies, Erica's favorite ice cream, and full access to his pool.
Besides, she isn't opposed to her sister's thrill of the chase. With the boy's insistence on getting in her good graces, Steve acted like her own chauffeur when she wanted to hang with friends or new dolls; he would scoop them up on her behalf.
She didn't even have to pay the man back. He has the right idea of trying to impress her to get in Camille’s good graces.
Yet, as much as she finds the boy tolerable, she is not going to bend to him invading today of all days.
“She's busy,” Erica greets, and the most disappointing thing is that Steve doesn’t even react to her tone and remarks anymore. He takes it in stride as if they were talking about the weather.
“Doing what?” He asks, looking down at her.
She narrows her eyes as if she owes him an explanation. She goes to open her mouth, but of course Camille shows up behind her, if the dopey look on Steve's face is any indication.
“Hey, Steve,” her sister greets with her airy voice.
Erica almost gags as the boy almost turns into a puddle. The youngest Sinclair would believe that her sister was part Siren with the way this man acts.
Steve's cheeks turn that blotchy red as he clears his throat. It's almost pathetic that this is the King Steve people fawn over. And she is over this lackluster interruption to her day.
She snatches the flowers out of the boy's hand and passes them to her sister.
“He got you flowers. Have a nice day, Steve!” She utters cheerfully as she closes the door in his face.
“Erica!” Camille scolds.
“What?”
“That was incredibly rude!”
And God forbid Erica doesn't care that she is nearly 10 years old as she stomps her foot on the ground, “ But it's Sunday!”
Camille's expression doesn't soften as she glowers at her. And Erica knows she won't win this, after all, she learned all her tricks from her sister. Besides, even Lucas agrees that having Camille disappointed in an action one of them took is a heavy weight to carry on the shoulders and gut.
Camille leaves, most likely to put the flowers in a vase. Erica can admit they are beautiful Tiger Lilies. The boy does have good taste in picking arrangements.
She sighs as she opens the door, and, of course, Steve is still there. He doesn't look upset, as his hands are in his jacket pockets.
Erica will never admit it, but Steve is selfless, and he won't ask her for an apology for her behavior. It's a quality she doesn't know whether to qualify as endearing or stupid.
“I'm sorry for shutting the door in your face.”
He doesn't smirk at her, but his smile is amused as he taps her head before coming into the house.
Erica huffs as she grabs her pillow and heads into the living room. She decides that if Steve is invading their time, she is going to put on My Little Pony and make him switch the VHS.
She makes herself comfortable as she can hear Steve and her sister talking softly. Her sister's laughter fills the void. The little girl can admit that her sister laughs more because of Steve.
A couple of minutes later, Steve is following Camille like a lost puppy into the living room. Her brown eyes narrow at her sister, and her lips look a little fuller than usual.
Camille rolls her eyes at the opening theme of My Little Pony, no doubt on to her game. Erica only smiles sweetly.
Yet her vindictive victory seems hollow in light of Steve's next words.
“Sorry for interrupting your Sunday,” he starts as he sits on the couch next to her sister. Erica looks at him, confused. “I've been informed that today is just for you and her. This is my one free pass.”
Erica looks at him, stunned, and tries her best to hide it.
Then Camille speaks up, “I told him if it's alright with you, we can call him when I'm done with your hair, and we can go out for dinner on these days.”
“No, Lucas?”
“No, Lucas,” Camille affirms.
And Erica isn't one to show any weakness. She clears her throat. “I'm amenable to the agreement.”
Camille snorts, and Steve is flooded with relief.
Erica relaxes as Camille begins parting her hair. The motion is soothing and comforting. It's a hug that only her sister can give. A language only she will know of, unless, God forbid, Steve Harrington gives her nieces or nephews. The thought is slightly revolting, although turning them against Lucas would be fun.
She spots Steve's reflection in the TV as he opens the Blue Magic containers and listens intently as her sister explains her process - their hair- to him.
It's in the lull of the silence, as Steve hands Camille bands or beads for her braids, that she speaks up.
“You know, we don't have to watch My Little Ponies.” She says more to Steve than to her sister.
“It's cool,” he replies. His eyes were immersed in the rainbow of colors on the screen. “They're your favorite, right?”
“Yeah, they are.”
“So tell me about them.”
She doesn't miss her sister's squeeze of an appreciative gesture with her thighs as she begins to tell Steve about her favorite pony, Applejack.
"in the wake of your sunshine" | steve harrington x sinclair!oc
summary: when the dust settles, it’s when the grief shows up.
notes: this really isn't about steve & camille as more about camille and lucas + erica. i really wanted to highlight some of the ptsd that all of them would have from the upside. this just really gave me some inspiration to actually make a full canon compliant story for camille in the group. let me know your thoughts!
In 1983, once Will was found, Lucas began checking her room constantly to make sure she was there. If she had plans somewhere, he had insisted she call to check in and let him know when she would make it home. If she happened to be a moment late, it was almost as if she was selling American secrets to the Russians with how he would scold her as she walked through the door.
Her parents found it endearing that he was showing so much brotherly concern.
Though Camille knew the reason behind it. She knew why her brother began to flinch if the lights flickered. Her brother made sure to keep his sling rocket with ammo on him at all times. The way he always checked and made sure her mini crossbow was maintained, and she had plenty of ammo. The reason he had approached Steve Harrington, the rare times the two would encounter each other, was to force the boy to keep bolts in his truck, next to his baseball bat.
Lucas’ surveillance didn’t end until the cold freeze had broken and the first crack of spring had sprouted.
Maybe it had been foolish of Camille to think that what happened during the one week in November of 1983 would be a blip in their lives. A bad memory that they would all recover from.
Though it was wishful thinking, as only a year later, the Upside Down tried to become right-side up. Thankfully, they were still able to shield Erica and her parents. But worst, Lucas didn’t seem outwardly affected. His recovery wasn’t as bad as last time. He still had her check in, but she thought his concern had turned to Max. It scared her how easily he bounced back.
For Camille, her dream of having a dog had evaporated after encountering a pack of demo-dogs with Steve Harrington. Yet, maybe that was why Lucas’ hovering was different. Lucas had Max, while somehow Steve had become her shadow. At first, she had been confused. Even before 1983, the only interaction she and Steve shared was at Pep Rallies, considering she was a cheerleader.
Outside of that, they were almost in two different worlds.
Yet she allowed him to latch on, as she could tell he was lonely in the cold, empty house of his and heartbroken over Nancy. He slowly became a friend, confidante, and someone she could trust not only with her brother but with all the kids. Her shadow eventually became his.
And she couldn’t say she was surprised by what happened at the Starcourt Mall. She knew things came in three.
Yet, it felt different. This time it was different.
Sure, they had lost Barb and Bob. Yet, despite knowing the two, she could admit the loss didn’t sting as she had no tangible bond or connection with them. She was hurt by their loss because of other people. If anything, she felt guilty that she was happy her brother was alive and safe. He was here with her and Max. He was relatively safe.
Though now, surviving feels hollow.
This time, winning had sacrifices.
Camille can still recall the look on El’s face when she realized Hopper wasn’t going to be following Joyce out of that building. And El had no one. Camille had moved out from under Steve’s arms and rushed to the girl. She can still feel those hot tears soaking her shirt, which was already mixed with Steve’s blood.
Yet, for some reason, she knew the kids hadn’t really come to terms with the loss of Hopper. With him taking care of El, he had become a more parental figure to all of them. No longer was it Joyce who made sure they were safe and okay, but Hopper as well. He wasn’t as affectionate and open, but she would spot the sheriff making rounds in his truck, checking on the neighborhood.
Even at the funeral, the aura was off. She didn’t know whether it was because of the mall fire lie, as she witnessed townsfolk pay their respects. A public funeral had the whole town lining the streets, yet the worst part was that there was no body.
There was nothing left of Hopper outside of a broken cabin.
Yet as summer comes to a close, she feels the oppression of secrecy weighing her down. It feels as if the closer she gets to her college move-in date, the more evident her fear and trepidation become. She doesn’t want to leave anyone. It has been three consistent years of something that she knows she will be too far to help make a difference.
She is already up when she hears a tentative knock at her door. The arm around her tightens as it takes the smallest of sounds and movements to wake Steve Harrington up. Before Starcourt, he was a heavy sleeper, but now if her breath hitches wrong, he is up.
And if it’s her parents, she will be screwed to find Steve Harrington in her bed in just his boxers. Her parents were lenient about his presence, but not about sleepovers.
“Was that the door?” he mutters. His body is ready for an attack.
“Yeah, give me a second,” she tells him as he reluctantly loosens his hold. She slips out of bed, wearing an oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Steve. She cracks her door open, fully expecting her parents. With her parents’ jobs, she is used to them sometimes having to leave in the middle of the night for emergencies. Yet she is surprised to find Erica huddled under a blanket with one of her teddy bears.
“Hey, is everything okay?” She asks softly.
“Can I come in?”
Camille doesn’t hesitate to let her baby sister walk into her room. In fact, Erica doesn’t blink an eye at the sight of Steve Harrington sitting up in bed or moving to grab a shirt to put on.
She sits on the edge of the bed as Erica all but falls into her lap. It’s then she feels hot tears staining her shirt. Erica’s cries are muffled, and it takes all of Camille’s willpower not to break down with her as she rubs her back.
“Let it all out,” Camille soothes. She presses a kiss to her sister's head as she begins rocking back and forth.
It’s only a couple of minutes later when another tentative knock comes from the door. Steve squeezes her shoulder, letting her know he will grab it, especially after Lucas mutters that it is him. It’s clear her brother knows Steve had climbed through her window.
Camille opens her arm up, and Lucas quickly settles into her side. Steve comes over and presses a kiss on her forehead before he goes to sit back against the headboard.
Yet, Erica grabs his hand and makes him sit on her side.
Steve seems hesitant, but he scoots closer, and his arm wraps around her and Lucas. She tilts her head up and meets his eyes, and she can see the tears building. If her hands were free, she would wipe the tears forming and caress the healing cut on his lip.
She doesn’t know how long they have been on the edge of her bed. It is long enough that Erica’s cries turn to sniffles and broken sobs, until her breath evened out and she was deep in sleep.
“Do you want me to grab Erica or Lucas?” Steve whispers.
“Grab Lucas. I can maneuver with Erica.”
Steve immediately grabs Lucas while Camille stands with her little sister. She positions herself in the middle of the bed while Steve places Lucas on the right side. She is not surprised that Steve takes the spot on the left, closer to the door.
He extends his arm to where it reaches towards Lucas, and his other arm joins her in rubbing Erica’s back.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
He looks at her, confused, “We should be thanking you.” She shakes her head, but he stops her. “It’s okay for you to cry, too. Let me help.” He whispers.
Her eyes sting, and she forces herself to look up at the ceiling.
She doesn’t know how to explain the way her chest aches at the sound of radio static. The way she can no longer handle feeling any type of coldness. She is terrified of winter, but then they weren’t even safe in the summer. Or worse, the panic she feels when the house gets quite and she can’t hear Erica or Lucas. During the whole summer, she was filled with anxiety when Lucas and Max would go off on their adventures.
And now, she is leaving for college. She is leaving her siblings. She is leaving him.
She takes a shaky breath, tears leaking down her face into her pillow. “I’m scared.”
Steve wipes away her tears. He doesn’t ask her to elaborate. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Camille doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes in a panic at the absence of her siblings and Steve. She feels she is on the verge of a breakdown, but Lucas is on the floor reading a sports magazine. At her frenzied movement, he looks up and gives her a soft smile.
“Steve?” She questions. He always made sure to nudge her awake to let her know he was leaving.
“He said he will be back. Mom almost caught him,” Lucas tells her.
She nods her head, and she leans forward to look at her clock, seeing that it is nearing 11 in the morning. She seems to have really slept in.
She eyes her little brother. She knows him enough to know the biting of his lip and the constant movement of his fingers; he is unnerved. She pats her mattress, and he rushes into her bed. And like last night, he finds a home under her arm. It reminds her of when they were younger, when she loved holding her siblings, only for them to claim they were big kids and too old for hugs. She remembers how Lucas clung to her when Erica was a baby.
“You guys know you can talk to me,” she tells him softly.
“It’s just before…I mean, people got hurt…Bob, Barb…but Hopper -” Lucas voice trembles. “And you and Erica were stuck down in that Russian base, and I didn’t even know! I should have known. The one time -”
“Hey, you can’t think like that,” she interrupts. “You were needed there for Max, El, Mike, and Will.”
“But I should have been protecting you!” Lucas insists. “And all I can think is that I’m glad it was Billy… and not you, and I feel terrible.”
She squeezes her brother tight. And she knows he has to be struggling with how to console Max if he is struggling with these feelings, when their feelings towards Billy were never favorable, even after his death.
She also knows she can’t sugarcoat the truth. Not after what all of them have been through.
“There is nothing wrong with feeling that way because you know what, I feel the same. Every night, I feel relieved that you and Erica are home and safe in your beds. If something were to ever happen to me, it is not on you. I don’t want you to carry that. I would want you to live for me. Live a full life.”
Lucas squeezes her tightly. And she fights back the sob that her baby brother is no longer a baby fighting against make-believe monsters, but now he is a teenager who has experienced the adrenaline of fighting for life and death, and he hasn't even started high school.
“The world is scary, and I wish I could have shielded you from that longer.”
“This time it feels different.” Lucas sniffles.
She leans back, and she looks her brother in the eyes. “Promise me, you won't bury this. If you can't talk to me, you talk to someone, okay.”
Lucas looks at her thoughtfully. “Do you talk to Steve?”
“Probably not as much as I should,” she admits.
Lucas nods, but then a horrified expression takes over his face. “If you're not talking…are these sheets clean?”
Camille snorts. “We don't do that.”
Lucas looks unconvinced.
“I swear it. Despite what you all think, we aren't that.”
“With how much he makes moon eyes at you and the frequent sleepovers…why?”
“I don't want it to feel like we're together because of adrenaline or the trauma we have gone through.”
Lucas nods his head and gives her a knowing look. “He really does like you, though.”
She smiles, knowing, unlike her, that Steve is more open about his feelings for her. She isn't surprised when he is over, helping Lucas practice for basketball tryouts, if she is a topic of conversation.
“You'll watch out for each other?” She asks. She and Steve had yet to breach what their relationship would evolve into once she left for college.
“We're both going to be a wreck when you're at college,” he admits. Her heart swells at the thought of her boys.
Camille takes a shaky breath as she pulls him into another hug. “I love you.”
summary: Camille begins to doubt the nature of her relationship with Steve as Nancy becomes a more prominent figure in their lives.
note: based on this request! unfortunately, i tried to do a reader x fic, but it just was not coming to me I think as I mainly write with OC, but this is an OC, who is the older sister of Lucas & Erica. I may do a whole Camille-verse of different AUs of her being a Sinclair...and maybe other characters...I hope you guys do enjoy this as it is my first time writing for Steve!
warning: season 5 adjacent (some spoilers), establish relationship, kissing, allusion to sex, angst (some hopefully), mention of kids/babies/female birth
Maybe a StevexSinclair!reader fic where it’s angst with comfort. The reader sees Steve constantly vying for Nancy’s attention with Jonathan and thinks he’s still hung up on her when he’s not.
Camille Sinclair isn’t sure what to label whatever is going on between her and Steve Harrington. At the end of the world, were labels that important? There were more important things to worry about than whether she and Steve were… exclusive.
She knows that they kind of are, as to be fair, there was slim pickings due to the “earthquake” that had dwindled their population.
If he wasn’t at her house, under the guise of sleeping on the couch, she was over at his with the excuse that his place is closer to the station.
He hasn’t yet put her in an awkward situation of having to explain that he has a date on a given night.
Yet, even from the start of whatever they were, it all seemed to be very murky.
No exact definition of what they were doing, or if anything, they were passing the time. She didn’t think anyone even knew that she and Steve were more than just friends, as they were just acquaintances in high school. Sure, she was the head cheerleader while he was captain of the school’s various sports teams. A few classes were shared with the occasional group project, but nothing of any real substance was shared between them.
But then there was Will’s vanishing and Barbara’s death, and Steve became more than just a peripheral figure in her life.
Still, she wouldn’t have considered Steve a friend until the winter of their senior year, after things with the Upside Down flared again on the anniversary of Will’s vanishing. It’s hard not to be friends with someone you decided to face off demodogs and did their best to protect her brother from a racist asshole.
A soft spot formed for the former king of Hawkins High, and they even attended Prom together as friends.
Though their relationship didn’t really change until after the Russians and the Mind Flayer at Starcourt Mall. Knowing the history with his family, she had gone to check up on him, considering the beating he got from the Russians, and the comfort turned to soft caresses with a promise not to make things weird.
No commitment, no implication; it could be a repeat thing.
And it was fine for Camille.
Things weren’t awkward when he came over to help Lucas practice basketball, or when he held movies for her family at his new job at Family Video. He had become a weekly fixture at their Sunday family dinner and at watching a sports game with her dad.
And things were okay - good. On the occasion, her parents and siblings were out of the house, she would invite Steve into her room. If she had free time and happened to swing by on his lunch break, she was very familiar with every indent in the backseat of his Beamer.
And the best part was no one had any suspicions, although Robin had put two and two together since she and Steve were attached at the hip.
Still, she didn’t feel the need to label anything. When she started community college, she told him she wasn’t keen on the Hawkins dating pool, but if he wanted to date around, she wouldn’t stop him; she wouldn't be sleeping with him if he was active in it.
He didn’t voice any objection and only offered to make her breakfast.
And Camille told herself that was fine. She didn’t really expect anything from Steve Harrington.
Yet, when Vecna had emerged and pushed all of them together, seeing Steve and Nancy interact, all of a sudden, she felt like a placeholder.
There was a softness to Steve’s voice when he spoke to Nancy. His body seemed to navigate to hers. She also couldn’t ignore how quickly he volunteered to be in her proximity in some ways.
It ached in ways Camille didn’t want to decipher. Yet, even the ache didn’t stop her from letting Steve Harrington between her sheets. With everything that has happened with Eddie dying and Max in a coma, she didn’t question it when they didn’t even have sex, and he simply held her during the night.
Just what went on at night didn’t change what happened during the day.
Camille isn’t blind to the very obvious differences between her and Steve.
Their skin color is the main one. She didn’t think Steve treated her any differently, but living in Hawkins long enough had taught her about microaggressions and underhanded comments. She couldn’t help but be on edge, considering who his parents were. It wasn’t as if his family threw holiday parties or were in a tax bracket that invited diversity in their circles.
Camille typically wasn’t one to feel insecure. Yet, as she watches Steve and Nancy stand together, she can’t help but think that she and Steve don’t fit.
Where Nancy is thin, with intricately styled brown hair, is smart, and is his known first love, and white, Camille is brown-skinned, with thick thighs and waist, and loud with her style and makeup, she doesn’t fit neatly under Steve’s arm as Nancy did - does.
She thinks it is hard to even try to compete with a ghost.
Worse, she knows she has no right to feel anyway. She and Steve weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. He didn’t need to show any loyalty to her.
Yet, she can’t help but feel a bit of jealousy, especially as she watches the way Steve interacts with the skinny brunette and how Jonathan reacts.
She tries to write it off as if Jonathan’s emotions are attached to the fact that Steve and Nancy were once an item. Considering their constant hovering around Nancy, maybe there was some merit to Jonathan’s worries that wasn’t attached to insecurity, especially after their pissing contest today with Nancy in climbing the tower.
Maybe she isn't seeing things.
Camille is quiet as Steve takes them back to the radio station.
There wasn't much to say after Steve and Jonathan blew up at each other after Steve suggested they swing by the hospital to check on Nancy due to the attack on her parents and Holly. Then the cherry on top had been watching him be smacked in the face of the past with a jaded sibling of a potential fling.
However, the van has since been encased in a tense silence once Dustin appeared bruised and battered, with the boy trying to claim he fell off his bike.
She didn't even have to be privy to the cold front that had taken over Steve and Dustin's relationship to know it was a severe lie and another crack in Steve’s attempt to be supportive and just there.
It's not surprising that after they regroup, Dustin leaves with Jonathan for a ride home. Lucas had already headed to the hospital to check on Max and Mike.
Still, she doesn't know why she felt so surprised when Steve openly grabbed her hand and led her to his Beamer. She felt Robin's eyes on them the whole time, especially as Steve opened her door, ensuring she was buckled in and then peeling out of the lot.
She had thought he would drop her off at home, but he made the familiar turns to his. Words aren’t said between the two while Steve keeps a tight grip on her plushy thigh. Just from his grip and the clench of his jaw, she imagines it’s going to be one of those nights where they don’t make it to his bedroom.
He might take her against the floor in the foyer, or maybe in the kitchen, but she nixes that idea, as he has been chomping on his Boppers. His diet has been shit since the quarentine and for some reason Boopers are filling for him.
Yet, the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his thumb keeps tapping the steering wheel, she thinks it may go a different way. The way that leaves her legs trembling and having to sit on a pillow afterwards.
Steve pulls up into his big, empty house. He mentioned that his parents were basically done with Hawkins and might not even come back once the quarantine is lifted.
Despite his apparent irritation, he still opens her door before leading her into his house. She takes off her shoes by the door while Steve locks it. She expects to feel his warmth behind her, the grip of his fingers, but she is encased in silence.
She turns around and finds him staring at her in silence. The gaze is heavy - undoing.
Her skin becomes hot. “You alright?”
He doesn’t answer her right away. Instead, she finds his eyes undressing her. Eventually, he rolls his shoulders before throwing his keys in the bowl on the accent table.
“You didn’t say anything in the car to Jonathan.”
Camille brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Steve shrugs his jacket off as he walks to the kitchen and places it on the back of one of the barstools. “When he tried to chew my head off for trying to be a friend to Nancy.”
She is silent as she watches Steve grab a glass and fill it with water.
“What did you expect me to say?” She asks quietly. She didn’t think she had any weight in the fight. She didn’t have the right to get between him and Jonathan. If anything, it felt like whatever was brewing between them had been a long time coming before the boy had moved to California. Besides, it wasn’t as if Steve made a big declaration about her to Jonathan.
Steve takes a big sip of his water before he places it on the marble counter. The sound echoes like a gunshot.
“Come ‘ere.”
Despite the softness of his tone, she knows it is a command. It is also the tone he uses with her when she is under him, so she hates that it already has butterflies forming in her tummy. Yet, she complies with the demand without restraint.
Though she doesn’t crowd him or press against him as she usually does in private. She gives a few feet between them. His frown is instant, and he is quick as his fingers loop in the belt loop of her jeans and make her flush against him. Her senses are invaded by the smell of something woodsy, citrus, and all of him.
His lips ghost over her forehead. “Do you agree with him?”
“Steve…”
She feels him stiffen. “So you think I still have feelings for Nance?”
Camille can't hide her wince at hearing Nance, not Nancy. The nickname suggests a familiarity that can’t be erased.
Steve pulls back, and Camille finds herself forced to look at him as he cups her face. He doesn't say anything as he stares directly into her eyes, searching for something, and whatever he finds, he doesn't like.
“Christ,” his hands drop, and his warmth turns cold. He tries to move, but Camille is quicker, wrapping her arms around him.
“Steve…”
He stills, but doesn't fight her hold.
“You love her, right?” She asks in his chest, scared to see the truth in his eyes.
“I loved her once. She's just a friend.” His arm wraps around her shoulders, and she feels his nose on the crown of her head. “Where is this coming from?”
Camille squeezes her eyes as she thinks about last year. The softness in his eyes as he looked at Nancy.
“You told her you wanted 6 kids.”
What she doesn't expect is the man to start laughing. His body loosens, and despite the many injuries and suspected concussions she thinks he had, Steve does have a quick reaction time.
She barely has time to be embarrassed or irritated. He is laughing at her when his hands move to her thighs and quickly lift her to where she switches spots with him. She is sitting on the countertop where he once stood.
“Camille, babe, I told her I wanted that with you.”
“What?”
Steve presses a kiss to her nose, amusement clear in her features, but Camille isn't amused when he tries to kiss her lips, and she pushes him back. “Explain.”
“After we broke up, Nancy and I didn’t really share the same space, ya know. So when all that happened, I could tell she was on eggshells, so I knew I needed to clear the air.”
“So you tell her that you wanted 6 kids -”
“With you,” he interjects.
Camille glares. “But you never said anything to me. You know the girl you apparently want to impregnate 6 times.”
“There could be twins.” He mutters.
“Steve!”
Steve bites his lip. “Do you not want kids?”
“You never even asked for me to be your girlfriend.”
Steve looks at her with wide eyes and an even more infuriating doopy smile. “What do you think we have been doing for the past year and a half?”
Camille scowls at him, and Steve tries to kiss it away, to even more annoyance, with success.
Kissing Steve is always breathtaking, the way he molds his pink lips against hers. He is able to nip at her own lips so gently with a tease of pain. She becomes easily compliant against him, and he smiles against her lips before he pulls back. His own lips are slick and swollen.
“I love you, ya know,” he tells her softly. “I think I loved you since you allowed me to take you to prom, honestly.”
Camille’s eyes soften as she thinks about prom. She knows his break-up with Nancy had changed him. Where he was magnetic and thriving in the eyes of others, the once King who roamed the halls turned into a recluse.
Where he had sat with Nancy and some of her friends and his sports teammates, he had migrated to sitting with her and her cheerleaders. They had a similar schedule, and it really wasn’t until then that she realized how many classes the two shared together, as he had shyly asked her for help in their classes.
A friendship had bloomed slowly and steadily. And when he had asked her to the prom, she didn’t see a reason to say no. She didn’t have a date. Though she remembered the corsage he had gotten her, the way he had promised her dad she would be home safe and sound, and how he had looked so happy in the pictures and made her feel like the only girl in the world, she had thought whoever Steve settled with would be lucky.
It made her wonder how Nancy left him for Jonathan.
Especially because every time she came over, he always had not only her favorite snacks but also Lucas's and Erica's. He even took the time to figure out her favorite hair and skin care products to keep at his own place when she is over, before romantic feelings became involved.
Most importantly, Steve has always been so supportive with everything she does, from school to figuring out her career path, and for letting her be unapologetically her.
It makes her realize love isn’t this loud, crashing meteor that uproots and tilts a world, making people dizzy. It’s a warm, glowing ember that takes time and care. It’s steady.
“I love you too,” she tells him with a smile, which he eagerly responds to with quick kisses to her lips, cheeks, and wherever she has exposed skin.
Though she pulls him back by his hair gently. “Six kids are a lot, Steve. I can meet you halfway at 3, maybe 4,” she concedes.
“As long as I can get one, I’ll be happy, babe.” He tells her excitedly as he wraps her legs around his waist. She can feel him between her legs, and she knows how this is going to end as she wraps her arms around his neck for him to carry her.
“You know this makes you my girlfriend now,” he tells her cheekily.
Camille snorts. “I think I am more than that, buddy. I just agreed to be your baby mama.”
Steve cackles. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to start practicing.”
