My Fair Nanny | (Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader AU) ✨
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader; Eventual Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler Warnings: potential angst, lots of dad!steve fluff, incoming Hallmark levels of cheese and tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: 3.8k Summary: In which widower, D1 basketball coach Steve Harrington needs a nanny to help him keep up with his three children. Author's Note: I apologize for my absence (if anyone noticed)! I just closed my show, and I've been preparing to audition for an upcoming musical in my area. Life has basically been crazy, so I'm just now finally getting back to writing. As usual, this chapter is unedited, so please let me know if you see any errors that I need to correct. I hope you enjoy chapter three! Taglist: @spam-love @ashyyboyy @xxreyofsunshinexx @jamesyrobin @celestialbeings101-blog @sorryharrington @drrivelikeido @lasagnamonkey @4ria790 @strangegirl26sff @nosferatu-official (If you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know! I'm still learning how this works- longtime lurker/first-time-ish poster lmao)
Series Masterlist
Part Three: The Lady in Red (Part II)
You could feel the barely contained excitement of the children following behind you. They were almost bouncing with joy, which you had thought was just a metaphor before their animated footsteps had caused you to stumble more than once on the short walk from your bedroom to the steps. Nearing the landing, you waved one of your gloved hands to signal to Eddie that you were ready. You waited for him to react, hearing the voices of Eddie and your boss below.
“Miss Mayfield would like a word with you, sir.”
“Really? Where is she?” asked Mr. Harrington.
Seeing Eddie move closer to the staircase, you knew it was your time to shine. You smoothed your hair with a quick pat before stepping into the limelight.
As you made your first step down, you said through your nerves, “I’m up here.”
Your voice must have been louder than you assumed because you felt more than just the eyes of Mr. Harrington taking in your very out of place, very red evening gown.
You watched as the woman that you had almost certainly ascertained to be Nancy turned to your employer to ask, “What is that?” You noted her clear disdain for your avoidance of the dress code, not that you’d even known there was one in the first place.
The look on his face positively dumbfound, you felt Mr. Harrington’s eyes scan your body up and down, leaving a burning heat in all of the places that his eyes had met your skin. Unaware of whether you were imagining his reaction or not, you watched as he stuttered over his next words, “That’s… the nanny.”
Trying desperately not to stumble over the vast material of your dress, you continued your slow, sauntering path down the stairs and hoped that the children would stay out of sight until their cue to join you. You had to fight the urge to turn around, lest you show all of your cards before you’d even played your hand. Too focused on your master plan, you almost tripped over the underpinning of your dress on the last step. And you surely would have fallen, were it not for the strong grip around your bicep steadying you.
Looking up, your eyes met the gentle hazel eyes of Mr. Harrington. Once you and he felt your body steady, he flashed you one of his signature, confident grins. Not hiding the fact that he was checking you out, he said lowly, “Look at that dress.”
At his words, Nancy slapped his shoulder with her clutch, “Steve!”
He looked at her affronted, “Hey! I said that you look nice, too.”
Her eyes narrowed, “Handsome. You said I was handsome”.
You hated to break up such a romantic moment, but you could see the shadow of little Gracie already trying to peek out of her hiding place. So, considering your clearly limited time, you quickly grabbed your boss's arm to get his attention. And you tried really hard not to appreciate the bulk of muscle under his suit jacket. Key word: tried.
Pulling him aside, you spoke softly, “I just wanted to tell you that the children are ready.”
“For what?” There was clear confusion in his puppy dog eyes.
“To come to the party,” you narrowed your eyes, knowing that there was no way he’d forgotten your conversation from this morning so soon.
“Miss Mayfield, the children are not invited to the party.”
“They’re not?” You felt your face flush, now that your plan was not going according to your anticipation. “Is my face red?”
The room was now growing excessively warm and you were acutely aware of how out-of-place you were. And, like a predator circling her prey, you saw Nancy circling back to Mr. Harrington’s side. Wrapping her arm across his back, she turned to you to deliver the death blow, “Well, now it matches the rest of you.” There was a finality in her tone, one that came with the confidence of an age you hadn’t yet gotten to know. She knew how to make someone feel small, and she was now using this skill on you.
You felt the need to escape the room rising within your chest, but an unlikely savior came to your aid. Coming to stand at your side was Eddie, who fixed Nancy with a snide look of his own. “There’s that rapier wit we’ve come to count on.”
You watched the two of them staring at one another, trying to ascertain who was dominant in this dynamic. Your findings? Inconclusive.
Deciding to play the part of docility, you extended your hand to the brunette woman, “You must be Nancy.”
She did not take your hand, her voice ice as she said, “Charmed.”
Fighting to retain your composure, you managed to bite out, “Likewise, I’m sure.”
Your lips curled into a half-snarl, despite your best efforts to remain neutral to the woman’s meddling. You had a role to play and kids to impress after all.
Grabbing your elbow lightly, Mr. Harrington steered you away from Nancy and directed you back toward the grand staircase. His voice low as he said, “Well, now that we’ve all met, why don’t you just go back upstairs and inform the children they can’t come.”
“Oh no, I can’t do that. They’re all dressed up. It’ll break their little hearts,” you said in earnest, shaking your head.
“Well I can’t tell them!” He honestly looked shocked, as if that’s what you had meant.
Before you could reply though, you felt and saw movement on the stairs as Brighton and Gracie made their descent. You stood proudly as both children looked the part of a proper little lad and lady, both carrying themselves with pride of confidence.
With a radiant, toothy grin, Gracie came to stand next to her father, “Hi, Daddy.”
She dropped into a low curtsy and gave her father a gigantic smile that was all his own.
Your boss turned to you, looking at you grimly, “You really play dirty, Miss Mayfield.”
Nonetheless, he beamed at his youngest daughter and held his arms out for a hug, which she quickly ran to accept. He offered his other arm to Brighton, who he complimented on his shirt and tie that he’d chosen for the evening. Though you knew that he would likely chastise you for this later, you were at least proud that the children had gotten this moment of happiness with their father. Afterall, you were there for them and their happiness rather than that of their father. You could live with his unhappiness, as long as you were still employed. And surely you would be because, though you hadn’t had many interactions with Steve Harrington, you knew that he loved his kids deeply and so far, both Grace and Brighton were on their best behavior.
“Daddy, you like my party dress?” Grace gestured down at her dress, doing a small twirl. “Loehmann’s, seventy percent off.”
Covering your lips to hide your smile, you shared a look with the other two adults, “She’ll never shop retail again.”
And dare you say it, Mr. Harrington looked at you with a look you dared consider to be fond. Despite your best efforts, you preened at the positive attention and found yourself immediately plotting to see that expression on his face again soon.
Straightening his tie, Brighton looked smugly at his father, “Hi, Dad. Surprised?”
You watched Mr. Harrington’s face meet his son’s face with a no-nonsense expression, his eyes narrowing as he said, “No tricks tonight, Brighton.”
“Best behavior, Dad,” the boy saluted and gave the hand signal for Scout’s honor, but you knew that, with the boy’s proclivity for chaos, the fingers of his other hand were crossed.
The thing about fathers, though? You had come to learn in your very short time as a nanny that they knew the antics of their sons better than anyone. Which is why you were less than surprised to see your boss kneeling in front of Brighton and patting down his pockets to look for any pranks or gadgets he might have managed to sneak past you. After thoroughly searching the boy though, he found nothing. You mentally thanked your lucky stars that he behaved.
Finally satisfied with the result of his pat down, your boss stepped away with a long, not-quite-suffering sigh and nodded at you, “Alright.”
Pleased with his agreement, you shouted up the stairs, “Come on, Maggie, don’t be shy.”
And with a timid peak around the corner, the eldest Harrington daughter began her grand descent. To your mutual credit, the partygoers took a collective breath as she entered the space in her dazzling finery. You weren’t sure how a young woman so beautiful was so timidly reserved, but in that moment, you decided to make it your mission to bring her out of her shell.
You looked over to her father, whose jaw was slack with surprise and eyes wide with pride. You mentally patted your back for a job well done, not that you had surmised that already.
You watched as he crossed to the staircase, holding out his hand to guide her down the final steps.
“My God, I never realized how much you look like your mother,” you heard him say.
“You like it?” Her reply was soft, demure even.
“You look so grown up,” his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.
You hastily brushed away the tears that threatened to fall, seeing little Gracie coming up behind her father and tapping him on the arm.
“So Daddy, can we come to the party?” Hands clasped behind her back, you watched as she absent-mindedly looked down at her feet.
Looking at her and her adorable expression, you knew Mr. Harrington was done for. You had won, at least this round. You all had put him on the spot, and you could see his discomfort by the way that he looked uncomfortably from person to person until his eyes finally met yours.
“Of course you can,” he ushered them into the living room and looked over his shoulder at you. Pointedly, he said to you, “We’ll discuss this later.”
Following behind them, you watched as he took in the room full of his guests and began to address them.
“Friends, I’d like to thank you all for coming here this evening. Now, before I tell you about the team and our latest achievements, I’d like to introduce the three greatest achievements of my life… my dear children.”
The audience applauded and you took in the smiles on various faces, including those of the three children.
Nudging the arm of the woman beside you, you said in awe, “Aw, isn’t this sweet? Could you just drop dead?”
She turned to you, smiling wickedly. “I don’t know, could you?”
You chose to ignore her and her snide comments. You chose to believe that she was a warm person, regardless of the cards that she had shown you so far. Maybe she was just being protective of Steve and his family? You weren’t sure, but you supposed it wasn’t your place to ask too many questions about the family’s dynamics.
You watched the Harringtons greet their guests and speak to various donors. As time crawled by, you saw the kids growing tired of being in the limelight and sensed that Brighton would soon have a meltdown if you didn’t intervene. Waiting on a break between the guests, you jumped in with your digital camera.
“Let’s take a picture,” you gestured for your boss and the children to slide into the frame.
Mr. Harrington didn’t take the bait.
“Miss Mayfield, you’ve done quite enough already. I don’t think this is the time or the—”
“Lovely family, Harrington,” a voice from behind you stated.
And then,
“Smile, everyone” your boss was suddenly all too eager to share one of his thousand kilowatt grins.
- - - - -
Later that night, you watched from the parlor as the last of the partygoers fled from Harrington house. On the sofa, Nancy sat nursing an empty highball glass as you thumbed through the stack of checks that Mr. Harrington had collected from his guests. Closing the front door, your boss came to claim the seat next to Nancy with a sigh. Sitting on the arm of the sofa next to him, you held out one of the checks for him to look at.
“Do I count four zeroes on this check?” Your smile and tone were teasingly smug.
He sighed again, “Alright, I’ll admit having the children here wasn’t the complete
disaster it might have been.”
You surmised that was the closest to a compliment that you were going to get.
Feeling risky, you playfully shoved against his arm, “Oh Mr. Harrington, you gush!”
And luckily for you, it seemed that he was in the mood to play along.
“All right. All right. It went splendidly,” he took the check from your hands. “Let me put this with the others.”
Rising from his place on the sofa, he headed toward the library. Watching him disappear up the stairs, you decided to start helping Eddie with the cleanup before checking in on the kids.
You had put Gracie and Brighton to bed an hour before the official end of the party, but you had an inkling that they were still awake in their rooms. Since the night marked Maggie’s first “grown up” party, you’d left her to her own devices. You weren’t too concerned about your decision, as you’d watched her slip out onto the patio alone moments ago. So, you figured that there was no harm in letting them stay up a bit longer while you helped your new friend.
You had just bent over to grab two half-empty champagne flutes when you heard the light clicking of kitten heels behind you. If you hadn’t known that it was Nancy Wheeler behind you, the smell of her expensive perfume wafting through the air certainly gave her away.
“Well, congratulations, Nanny Mayfield. It seems you’ve pulled it off,” her tone was snide despite the sentiment behind her words.
“What could go wrong when you put a father together with his children?” You kept your tone light, not wanting drama to ruin the high of the evening.
The woman released an inelegant snort and stalked toward the mini bar with her glass in hand.
You went back to the task at hand for some time, humming as you watched the space returning to its former state of cleanliness with a speed you would have thought impossible before watching Eddie Munson perform his daily duties around Harrington House. You were toting an armful of dishware to the kitchen when you heard the patio door slam and a clambering of rising voices. You were going to ignore it until you heard Maggie’s voice drifting through the walls and knew it was your job to intervene. Uh oh, you thought as you dashed outside.
When you arrived on the patio, you observed Maggie and a boy that you distantly recognized as one of the waiters for the evening. You took in the blushes on the faces of the teenagers and the climbing red-faced anger on Mr. Harrington’s face, and you could only assume the worst about what your boss had witnessed. And suddenly, you knew without a doubt that you would somehow shoulder the blame for whatever had occurred, despite the fact that you couldn’t have foreseen that Maggie would find a date here of all places. While you were scared at the prospect of facing Mr. Harrington’s anger, you also felt a sense of growing pride for the girl. She was coming out of her shell after all—though she could have chosen a better time to do so.
“Mr. Harrington, I was—” said the boy.
Steve cut him off, his voice cold as ice, “You were just leaving.”
“Right.” The boy scurried off with a quick nod.
The boy escaped through the kitchen door, but before he could disappear, you watched as Maggie ran after him, calling out his name. Not two steps after her was her father, yelling for her. You sighed, pinching your nose as you followed them into the fold.
Now inside of the townhouse, you couldn’t help but appreciate the comedy of the situation, though you refused to laugh and pique Mr. Harrington’s ire further. You froze in the pocket doorway of the kitchen, watching as the boy escaped from the house into the inky darkness of the night. And Maggie, to your horror and secondhand embarrassment, fell to her knees in the entryway and cried his name. Geez, what happened for all of this? You thought.
“Maggie!” Yelled Mr. Harrington.
“Toby!” The girl cried out his name once more and tried to dash out the door.
To no avail, the blonde stayed where she was with her father’s arm wrapped firmly around her.
“Maggie, be still!” He grunted out as she repeatedly elbowed him in the sides.
Throwing one well-aimed hit against his ribs, her father let her go. He was clearly preparing for her to run outside, but instead, she wheeled around to face him.
“How could you embarrass me like that?” Her face, too, was red with anger.
Sensing that the confrontation was about to take an irreparable turn, you decided that it was past time for you to intervene. It was time to get to the bottom of this mess.
Stepping between them, you asked, “What’s going on?”
“That boy was mauling her on the balcony!” Your boss exclaimed.
“It was just a kiss!” The girl jammed her pointer finger against his chest.
“Wait, he kissed you?” You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice.
“Yeah,” she said noncommittally, though you saw the blush rising on her cheeks.
“Oh, her first kiss! This is so exciting! Let me get the camera,” you started scrambling to locate the digital camera that you had used earlier that evening.
“This is not exciting, Miss Mayfield. It’s appalling! She’s just a child.”
“No, I’m not,” said the young woman before you.
Unable to stay neutral, you found yourself defending her, “She’s not, you know.”
The look that Mr. Harrington gave you then promised trouble, though you refused to back down. You were hired by him, sure, but your loyalty was to the children that you swore to protect and care for. In that moment, you knew she needed you on her side.
“Daddy, I’m fourteen years old.”
“You know, when I was fourteen… maybe this isn’t the time.”
“Maggie, go to bed and wash that make-up off your face! And you—”
“Me?” You pointed at yourself in disbelief at his tone. You were not a child and you’d be damned if you let him treat you like one.
“Yes, you! This would never have happened if not for you.” You gasped in outrage.
“What the hell did I do?” You were fully facing him now, hand on your hip.
You expected him to back down. He didn’t; instead, he tensed further and doubled down. He stalked closer to you in his angered pacing. And Maggie? She disappeared up the stairs, running toward her room with tears tracking down her face.
“You took an innocent schoolgirl, dolled her up and turned her into—”
“Into what—a young woman?” For some reason, you found yourself unwilling to back down. Instead, hoping that he would.
“She’s just a little girl.” He sighed then, some of the anger melting off of his body.
You knew then the true issue behind the matter. You knew that behind his anger, there was a man who was scared of losing his little girl to the dangers of adulthood. However, you knew as well as he should that he could not expect to keep her locked away forever.
You desperately wanted to keep the peace, but you also thought it necessary to point out the invalidity of his reaction. You knew that he needed to come to terms with Maggie’s impending transition into a young adult, and he needed to make things right with his daughter. Whether it was your place or not to meddle, you didn’t know but you couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing to help. So, you helped in the way that you knew how.
“Get outta here! She’s a woman, I’m telling you, and unless you’re going to dip here in bronze and put her on display with the rest of your collectibles, she’s going to grow up and someone’s got to help her,” and you knew that you wanted to be that person to help her.
Your words did not have the intended effect; his anger visually rekindled.
“You are way out of line. She’s not your daughter!”
“No, if she was, she wouldn’t be upstairs crying her eyes out on what should be a very exciting and memorable evening.” You crossed your arms, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your eyes.
“Thank you for your candor and concern.”
“You’re welcome,” a mutual exhale. You allowed yourself to believe that the argument was over.
Then, on his next breath, he said with decisiveness, “You’re fired.”
“Fired? After all I’ve done, this is the thanks I get?” You were aghast in shock, your skin gone clammy.
Silently, his body still tense, he walked over to where the piano sat in the corner of the room. From the top of the instrument, he grabbed your beaded clutch and the digital camera that you had stashed there previously. Then, looking into your eyes without an inkling of remorse, he placed the items into your hands and gestured for you to leave.
Marching you to the door, he all but pushed you onto the landing. Before closing the door on your sullen face, he simply said, “You can send for your things in the morning. Goodbye, Ms. Mayfield.” And then, the heavy door closed with a decisive and final click.
The sound snapped you out of your shocked reverie and you began banging on the front door, not caring about who might hear. There was no response from inside the house, but you knew that Mr. Harrington was still lingering somewhere in the parlor. So, you decided to tell him what was on your mind. “Oh no, you can’t fire me, Steve Harrington. I quit,” you turned on your heel to walk away before stumbling back to beat on the door again. “No, you fired me. That way I can collect unemployment.”
The only reaction from Harrington House was the sudden plunging darkness of the inside lights turning off and the icy, still silence from the outside of the home. It was as clear of a response as you could have asked for. You were no longer an employee of Steve Harrington. Walking down the pathway, you took one last lingering look at the house and wiped at the tears that you hadn’t noticed were falling down your face. As the finality of the situation hit you, you realized that you never even got to say goodbye to the three Harrington children that had quickly stolen your heart.
At that thought, you quit wiping your face and let the tears fall.
