Sundays are for family dinner
[4.6K]
pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: Steve met you at the lowest point of his life and it still surprises him sometimes how quickly you see through him and seem to have the exact right words for everything
warnings: 18+ , MDNI, tiny bit smutty, mentions of trauma, mentions of death, mentions of weight loss, mentions of scars, swearing, brief stancy, lmk if i missed anything!!
Part 2
A/N: unbelievable how many times you can stop yorurself from witing "soft". i'm so strong. but truly, i love soft!steve so much, it makes me weirdly emotional. i literally wrote the whole things for that last scene.
Everytime you and Steve had the kids over it was mayhem. Familiar, lovely, lively but mayhem nonetheless.
‘Dustin, you’re turning 23, I should not be the one still telling you to not run with a knife, dude!’ you hear Steve’s voice from behind you while putting out some snacks at the kitchen counter.
‘Sorry, dad!’
‘Jesus Christ.’ He murmurs in an exaspereted voice and you can practically see the way he pinches the bridge of his nose.
‘Some people’s kids, huh?’ you murmur with a smirk.
‘It’s dangerous! One of these days he’ll slip on the tiles and cut himself if he keeps doing that.’
‘You should be careful, you sound more and more like an old man with every passing day H.’
He’s always hit by a little wave of nostalgia when you call him that. Walking into his life, all cocky and snappy at a point when he thought he was over this. Over the all-consuming crushes and thinking someone is the love of your life.
After defeating the Upside down, after the dust settled, after burying their dead they stuck together. Losing Jonathan did a number on everyone. Everyone thought they should’ve done more. Will felt guilt and sadness, so Mike was devastated, Dustin seemed inconsolable, Nancy was weighed down with all the unsaid words, with the final memories of distance and uncertainty. And he was left to pick up the pieces once again. He was lonely. Robin was leaving for college soon, and he knew she had to go, there were no two ways about it but it did make him anxious and very sad and he didn’t show it. In the midst of all of that he was desperate for some familiarity, something to comfort, something that felt safe. So, they briefly found their way back to each other, for exactly that. Warmth, ease, uncomplicated. But it’s never that, is it? Uncomplicated, that is. They quickly figured out that it was not gonna work. It wasn’t dramatic, or loud or anything like that. It was a quiet understanding, slow, shared tears, ‘I’m sorry’s’ whispered into the dark, although they both knew it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just was what it was.
He walked into a bar in Indiana while visiting Robin not too long after that. She had to study, he was feeling particularly sorry for himself. You were pouring beer and laughing with someone who seemed to be a regular. Wearing a band T-shirt with the sleeves cut off in a way that your bra was peaking out the sides as you moved, hair tied into a bun with no care, chipped black nail polish, a dangerous smile and something even more dangerous glinting in your eyes as you threw your head back giggling. Not his type but still very much his type. He was at rock bottom and he knew you were trouble but he still couldn’t stop himself from walking over to the bar. Like a moth to the flame. I’m so fucking pathetic - he thought to himself.
As he sat down at the bar your eyes flicked at him. You knew that look. Being a bartender you see a guy like him at least three times a night. Six on the weekends. They’re sad, they lost something, or they never found it. Whatever it is, you smile, you listen if needed, flirt a little and they tip nice. This wasn’t even the first time you thought you could kiss it better, fix him, as it were.
‘Hey, what can I get you?’
‘Uh, hi, just a beer please.’
‘Just a beer coming up.’
You were pouring the beer from the tap and you couldn’t help but stare a little. The dark circles and bags under his eyes, little scruff, he obviously hasn’t shaved in at least in a couple of days, cheeks a little too bony. He lost weight, you thought, he’s not sleeping. Wonderful material for your unshakeable need to save everyone. You were quick to learn that that’s something you shared.
‘You new in town?’ you asked.
‘Uhm, yes and no.’
‘Oh, mysterious.’
Were you flirting with him?
‘Not that mysterious.’ You almost missed the tiniest little upturn in the corner of his lips. ‘My best friend goes to college here, just visiting. First time in town though.’
‘Well, you’re at the right place then’ you said, continuing in that slightly teasing tone that started to raise a little bit of heat at the back of his neck. The first time you made him feel something he thought he couldn’t anymore. ‘Most good stories and bad decisions start right here.’
Before he could answer a guy came up beside him.
‘Hey, sweetheart.’ There was something about the nickname and the way he said it that made him pull a cringing frown, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.
Oh, boy.
‘Hi, Vinnie.’ All the warmth and playfulness was drained from your voice so fast. He took his beer and took a sip, sending you a thankful look.
‘I would love a whisky, neat, with your number on the side.’ He was really trying to control himself but this dick was making it very hard. He could see the way you tensed. You knew this guy. You didn’t like it.
‘We’ve been over this Vinnie. The whisky I can do, nothing else, just drop it bud.’
‘Oh, come on now sweetheart.’ That fucking nickname again. ‘Smile for me a little, that’s the least you can do, promise to leave a big tip.
‘Jesus Christ’ He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, he didn’t want trouble - well maybe a little, in the form of that giggle he heard earlier but nothing else. But it still slipped out, he couldn’t help it.
‘Is there a problem here buddy?’ He knew that tone too. Trouble. Not the good kind.
‘Easy does it, Vinnie! He’s new, don’t scare him away.’ You send him a wink but he senses the tension. You’ve seen this before. You don’t want this. He doesn’t need to be a knight in shining armour for you.
‘No problem at all, man. Just drinking my beer. Although, if you keep harassing her, we might have one.’ Again, it just slipped out. Old habits and all that.
‘Harassing? Jesus, you young people get so easily worked up over nothing. I’m just flirting a little, no harm.’
‘Well, she’s clearly not into it, so you can just say thank you and we can all drink our beers in silence and peace.’
There are a couple things happening at the same time. You shout something (the bodyguard at the place, he later learns), the chair under Vinnie sliding backwards and his fists grabbing onto his shirt near his collar.
‘Listen, little boy-’
But he can’t finish the sentence, because the guard pulls him off. They can’t keep him out, but they can definitely kick him out when he acts up.
He was glad, if he wanted to be honest. He could still pull some punches probably, if need be, but he was nowhere near his prime anymore. There was no way he was gonna win that one. It was a hard pill to swallow but he needed to be smarter about these things. Bloody knuckles weren’t that cute anymore, now he was pushing thirty.
‘You make a habit of protecting bartenders?’ you asked after the guy was thrown out.
‘Only the ones that wink at me.’
‘Huh, I should do it more often then.’
‘Maybe you should.’ It’s teasing, the way his voice drops half on octave as he says it. Your lips twitch. He’s still got some of it left, he thinks to himself, good to know.
‘Your next beer is on me then, hero boy.’
‘What makes you think I want another beer? And Steve’s fine.’
‘If you must know, Steve, I get off in about an hour and thought you might wanna stick around.’
‘Do you have a phone back there?’
‘Gotta let your girlfriend know, you’re not coming home tonight?’
‘Like I said, my best friend, no girlfriend. She gets worried easily, that’s all.’
‘Wife? A couple kids back home?’
‘No wife, no kids’ he said, holding his left hand up, wiggling his fingers. ‘Well, not mine, anyway.’
You furrowed your eyebrows at that and tilted your head to the side, which made your throat stretch in a way that had him thinking some thoughts. Inappropriate, even lewd thoughts. The second time you made him feel something he thought evaporated from him.
‘There’s this group of kids - well, they’re not even kids anymore really - I used to sort of babysit back in the day. Not my kids, but kinda my kids.’
You hum, narrow your eyes and he feels his stomach drop a little. You’re looking at him, studying. He didn’t really say anything and still you know there’s something to look for behind it. You’re reading him, looking for that closed up, hidden place inside of him that has been dormant for so long. And he almost felt like he wanted you to find it. Shit.
‘The phone’s on the wall to the right.’ you said eventually when you saw someone walk up to the bar.
By the time you’re clocking out, he’s a little tipsy, leaning against the wall of the divebar.
‘You waited.’
‘You got me a free beer, only fair.’
‘You have some more time to spare? Maybe you could extend your protector hours a little, walk me home?’
It was the game, he knew it. Why else would you have suggested he stay, if you didn’t want to take him home? But it’s a game he loves, he’s a little rusty, that’s a given but he does love it and is happy to play along. It’s like flexing a sore muscle. It’s not exactly comfortable just yet, but it does feel good.
‘Uh, you see, that might just cost you another beer.’
‘You’ll have to come back for that, pretty boy.’
‘Was planning on it anyway, free beer or no free beer.’
‘That’s a good answer.’
‘Lead the way.’
The conversation is a little fractured. A question here and there, where are you from and what do you do, have you ever been to this place, you must try that. He told you how he found a new calling in being the town handyman while he helped rebuild it after the earthquakes and shit. You remembered the news, the front pages, how it didn’t seem to add up. You tell him you dropped out of college, only recently reapplying, studying to be a counselor during the day, picking up shifts at the library and the bar anytime you could. It’s nice. It feels easy, despite the fact that you can both feel the yet untold sadness and pain behind those stories. The beer and conversation are loosening him up in a way he hasn’t felt with a stranger in a long time. He even made you giggle a couple of times and it warms him even more than the beer.
’You wanna come in?’ You ask when reaching the door. There’s no bashfulness, no shyness lingering there. He’s kinda known, more hoped, this would happen but the lack of those things still catches him a little off guard. You keep surprising him, tilting the axis of the world around him a little and he finds that he likes it. And he’s really glad, he sobered up on the walk home.
He nods with a lazy, crooked smile and it makes you huff out a little laugh as you open the door.
After you switch on the fairy lights, he’s studying your place, making your insecurities rise a little. It was small, a little messy, you weren’t expecting anyone. Books scattered on the small table and the couch, a highlighter, a few empty mugs and a soup bowl, a couple plants, a throw blanket crumpled up - the fairy lights make everything look warm, cozy. Just like you - he thinks.
‘You have a nice place.’
‘Thank you.’ Your voice comes from closer behind him than he anticipated, it makes him flinch a little.
‘Sorry’ you murmur, even closer now, your breath hitting him through his shirt. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’ You place a barely there kiss on his shoulder, your gentle hand coming up on the opposite shoulder with a reassuring, light squeeze. Those two things alone are enough to send his head into a tailspin and make him want to cry at how sweet you are. How receptive you were to his sudden… shyness. Tenseness? He didn’t really know what was going on with him.
‘It’s okay, sorry for being jumpy,’ he said, bringing a hand up to yours that was now snaked around his chest, a little too close to his heart.
‘Sorry for the mess. Wasn’t really planning on having company.’
He shook his head with a tiny, breathy laugh.
‘It’s okay.’ He turned around, keeping your hand in his, brushing your knuckles a little.
Your were silent, looking up to him with wide eyes, the fairy lights and that dangerous something twinkling in them in a way that made him fear he was already well and truly fucked.
You could both feel the air shift, tension getting thick, and he was really glad you took charge, tangling your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, brushing the apples of his cheek with your thumb, gently pushing him into the direction of the couch, slowly but deliberately, giving him time to stop but making clear what you want. You pushed him down softly, questioning look in your eyes, before he nodded and you lowered yourself onto his lap.
‘Hi’ you breathed when you were nose to nose again.
‘Hi’ he breathed back.
‘You nervous pretty boy?’
‘I-‘ his breath hitched a little when you pressed into him with a little more intent. ‘Yeah, shit, yeah, a little. Been a while.’
‘We can stop, if you want.’
He shook his head, placing his hands on either side of your hips. Not grabbing yet, just anchoring himself maybe.
‘I need you to say it, pretty boy.’ You whispered. Your thumb brushed over his eyebrow and it took every single scrap of self control left in him to not let out a whine.
‘No.’ It came out croaked, like he had to clear his throat. ‘No, I don’t wanna stop. I’ve been wondering what you taste like all night. Just, maybe go slow?’
‘I can do slow. Don’t have anywhere to be.’ You kept caressing his face with sincere finger tips, brushing away his fears one stroke at a time.
When you finally leaned in to kiss him he thought he might pass out. Your lips were so fucking soft, your every movement tender and affectionate and he had to try really hard to not let the thought about how he’s undeserving, unworthy of these things seep into the forefront of his mind. Lucky, you kind of occupied every single one of his senses. You smelled like deodorant and detergent, a little worn out from your shift at the bar. He didn’t mind. It made you feel real. When your hand dipped beneath his shirt you felt him tense up, so you paused. He squeezed his eyes shut when you looked up at him, eyes all doey, questioning, a little worried.
‘I’m sorry’ he whispered. He let his forehead fall against your shoulder.
‘Can you look at me, please?’ You were trying to coax him out of whatever this state was with soft and steady touches ‘Please, baby.’
And how the fuck do you say no to that? It was almost unbearable, the honesty, the concern in your eyes.
‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘No.’
‘Want me to turn off the lights?’
‘No. Wanna see you.’
The grin you give him makes his heart skip.
‘Smooth.’
‘Still have some moves left, it turns out.’
‘Let me guess: high school heartthrob?’
‘I don’t know how to answer that without sounding like a jackass.’
‘So, yes.’
‘You wanna keep being a smartass or you wanna use your pretty mouth for something else, maybe?’
‘Oh, look at that! Here I am, trying to make you relax and you go straight to suggesting I suck your dick.’
‘What?! No, wait that’s n-‘
He couldn’t finish the sentence because you stopped his rambling with a kiss. Little more force in it now. You’re holding his face like he is something precious and he thinks he might want to believe that he is someday. He kissed back with more fervor, his hands started moving up your back and you could feel him relax again a little bit against your touch. Coming up for a little air, you looked at him.
‘Wanna go to the bedroom?’
‘Yes.’ It was eager, hungry even and it made you chuckle.
‘Come on, pretty boy.’
You led him into the bedroom where you realized why he was so tense. He took his shirt off with a sigh, and that’s when you saw the scars. Healed and scabbed, probably a couple years old.
He thinks back to that night often when things get tough. The way you traced them with delicate fingers, the way you kissed along them. It was the first time he felt remotely like a normal person in years. Like someone who can have nice things. Like someone who deserved this. He was on the verge of tears but he wanted it so bad. And so he kept himself together, kissed you like he meant it, kissed down your body, spent his sweet time with his head between your thighs, until they shook, until tears were prickling in the corner of eyes, which he also kissed away. He was nervous, about being scrawny, about the bones showing, poking his skin, about the scars but you didn’t bet an eye. He only saw hunger, want, felt it in the way you tangled your fingers in his hair. And you made it look easy. Wanting him looked easy when you did it and it made him a little crazy. You made him relax, laughing with him when he fumbled with the condom packet and again when you hit your head on the headboard at a particularly hard thrust. You wore each other out that night, he also remembers that. You fell asleep tracing patterns onto his chest and while he struggled a little, like most nights, he also fell into a deep slumber next to you and didn’t wake until the early afternoon. He almost started to panic when he didn’t see you next to him in the bed but that quickly calmed down when he heard your humming from outside and something cluttering in the kitchen. He got dressed and quietly joined you.
‘Hey’ you greeted him with a smile and he thought that maybe he likes this even more than the band t-shirt. You were still a little sleep mussed but you clearly had a shower, flowery smell lingering on you now. Hair now let down, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, making breakfast. He could get used to this, he thinks, immediately followed by the thought that maybe he should pace himself. Maybe it was just sex. You didn’t seem like that but he has been wrong before.
‘Hi.’
‘Your timing is great, I’m almost ready with breakfast.’
‘Hm, that sounds amazing but I have to go. Robin is probably freaking out already and I promised we’d go out for lunch today, which I’m also kind of already late for.’
‘Well, I’m sad now, but I understand. Do you want a cup of coffee at least?'
‘Yeah, coffee would be great’ he says with a smile.
You made him coffee, you put your feet in his lap at the table, you caressed his cheeks, you whispered so, last night was fun, in a cheeky, flirty tone. And he knew he wanted more of this, more of you. So, he asked for a pen and paper, jotted his number down and said you should do it again, you still owe him a beer after all. You gave him your number as well, just in case.
‘Steve H., huh? I don’t get a full last name?’
‘Call me and maybe I’ll tell you.’
He left and he called you that same day. Robin was elated when she found out her best friend “fucking finally got laid”. Which he took some offence to. He just wanted you to know that he meant it, that he wanted to see you again, and he was really really close to thanking you but he controlled himself.
That was three years ago now and he still had days when he woke up and couldn't believe how lucky he was. You fit into his life so perfectly. The kids loved you, everyone loved you, it was easy. You kept your apartment in the city but moved in with him not too long after that first time. You wanted to be close, all the time and it made his heart sore because he didn’t have to feel shame for being clingy, you were just the same.
That’s also how Sundays became a time for what you called family dinners. Sometimes your friends, sometimes his, sometimes both, always some good food, some chaos and a lot of life.
The first time you suggested was before the anniversary of Jonathan’s death. You made an unbearable day almost nice and he felt like he never could thank you for that.
‘H, huh? I don’t even get a full last name?’ He asked as he came up behind you in the kitchen.
‘Hmm, help get these out and I’ll think about it.’
‘You drive a hard bargain. You’re lucky, you’re pretty.’
‘Alright lover boy, you can show me later, how about that?’
‘Can’t wait.’
The conversation was lively, everyone talking over each other in the living room that was a little too small for that many people but no one ever cared about that.
‘Hey, I meant to ask,’ Robin started ‘have you heard that Mr. Reynolds is retiring?’
‘The old basketball coach?’ Lucas inquired, looking for an answer you were as well.
‘Uh-huh. Says his knees are giving out.’ Nancy chimed in.
‘Yeah, so now they’re looking for a new one to coach for the team.’
‘Huh, wonder who’ll take over.’
Max and Dustin rolled their eyes, the latter murmured something that sounded like I swear to god, which was surprisingly mild for him.
‘Coach Harrington has a nice ring to it.’ Will chimed in.
You smiled down into your glass. ‘It does’ You offered while squeezing his thigh under the table.
‘He would have to get back into shape first.’ Dustin quipped and you knew he’d hit a nerve. You had to buy a new shirt for him last week, a size up, and it was already messing with his head.
‘Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!’ Steve exclaimed.
‘I’m just saying, you’re not exactly in athlete shape, no shame in that!’
‘I think you look great.’ El said quietly and Mike frowned.
‘Alright children, everyone settle down!’ you geared into mom-mode, which was required sometimes. ‘How about everyone shutting up and I bring out some dessert?'
You gave Steve’s shoulder a little squeeze before leaving for the kitchen.
***
The kids left later and you had to admit, it was nice to just have the two of you. But you can see that Steve’s still upset. You can see that he’s in his head, he barely said a word, his touches, kisses being on autopilot. You were doing the dishes, you washing, him drying, a domestic, familiar routine.
‘Are you just not going to talk to me anymore?’
‘Hm?’
‘Come on, I can tell you’re still upset about what Dustin said, baby.’
‘Wha- Of course I’m upset about it! I used to be the top athlete and now I’m turning into-’
‘Stop that! Right now!’ You raise your pointer finger in warning. ‘First of all, we’re not in high school anymore. I’m not in love with you because you’re captain of the football team.’
‘Basketball and swim team actually.’ He corrected you quietly with a somewhat guilty look on his face.
‘I know’ you glare at him with a deadpan look. ‘I was trying to make a point about how much I don’t care. I don’t love you because of how many pushups you can do or homeruns you hit’ he knows that at this point you’re doing it on purpose but he still winces a little. ‘I love you because you’re kind and you take care of the people you love.’ You take a step closer to him. He’s still staring at the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘Second of all, it's happy-weight.’ you smirk at him.
‘What?’
‘Happy-weight. People who are happy and feel safe in their relationships, tend to put on some weight.’
‘Really?’ He can’t help but smile at that a little.
‘Really. I gained a couple of pounds too since we’ve been together.’
‘No, you didn’t’ he seems sincere enough but you still have your suspicions that maybe he’s just saying it in case it’s a trap.
‘I absolutely did! I haven’t been able to go out for dinner without having to unbutton my jeans at the end in months.’ He finally chuckles at that. ‘Have you noticed?’
‘This feels like a trap’ You snort out a laugh.
‘It’s not a trap, I absolutely did! Do you care?’
‘Of course I don’t! I haven’t even noticed, I swear!’
‘Well, then there you go! Then why do you think I would care?’
He shrugs.
‘And third’ you take another step, bigger this time, reaching out for his jaw, lifting his head so you can look him in the eyes. ‘I like you softer’ you say quietly and he swears he melts under your touch and gaze. ‘Softer means no more getting beat up’ you say as you trace his forehead, watching as his eyes close for a second. ‘Softer means no more running away from creatures from another dimension that want to kill you.’
‘No more trying to save someone’s life because they were stupid enough to risk it so they can save us’ he says.
A pang of hurt goes straight to your heart. You know he still feels guilty about that sometimes.
‘Steve Harrington, I would risk my life for you any day of the week, but yes, no more of that either. I will love you with a little tummy because we eat so much good food, and I will love you with wrinkles in the corner of your eyes because we laugh so much and I will love when you start to have gray hairs because you worry about me all the time. It’s just life, and it’s good.’
Steve’s eyes start to well up and he doesn’t know what to say. He probably couldn’t say anything at this point, because holy shit, how on earth did he get so lucky? So, he doesn’t say anything, he just starts kissing you all over your face, and then your lips and continues down you jawline and neck and hopes to god you can’t feel the rogue teardrops that manage to escape. You do, but you don’t say anything. You can’t say it out loud but you can feel it. You can feel the weight of being loved so much, so openly, because it’s the exact same way you feel, when you notice that every time you catch his eyes on the other side of the room, he’s already staring at you.
It’s been a long road and it hasn’t always been easy. You both had to peel back so many layers of hurt, of pain, of fear and in the beginning you both had your own attempts to run.
But he’s so glad that neither of you were successful because this was the best thing he ever had. And he finally believed that he’s good enough for it. Basketball coach or not.
