℘1 - ℘2 ⋆˚࿔ m.list⋆˚࿔ steveharrington x henderson!reader
You avoid Family Video entirely after the fight.
Not intentionally at first.
The first day afterward, you tell yourself you’re just tired.
That you don’t feel like dealing with fluorescent lights and movie shelves and Robin making knowing faces at you from behind the counter. You tell yourself you’ll go tomorrow instead once the knot in your chest settles into something manageable again.
If anything, it gets worse.
Because now every quiet moment leaves too much room to think.
And every thought circles back to Steve eventually.
The argument replays constantly in your head in sharp fragmented pieces that refuse to leave you alone no matter how hard you try distracting yourself.
Because watching you with these guys sucks.
You don’t get to act possessive over me when you’ve never actually wanted me.
I thought it was obvious.
That part ruins you most.
You thought it was obvious.
The words echo around your skull for hours afterward because what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Obvious that Steve cared about you?
Obvious that all those looks meant something?
Obvious that every late night conversation and every lingering touch and every moment that felt too intimate to just be friendship actually wasn’t all in your head?
The possibility tears straight through you because if that’s true, then the last few months suddenly become unbearable to think about.
Every time you forced yourself to pretend someone else was enough.
Every night spent lying awake convincing yourself Steve could never actually want you like that.
All of it suddenly feels humiliating.
Because maybe you were both standing on opposite sides of the same misunderstanding this entire time.
But then another thought crashes into it immediately afterward.
If Steve really felt something, why didn’t he stop you?
You replay the moment over and over again while lying awake in bed that first night, staring blankly at your ceiling while moonlight spills faintly across your room.
You remember the look on his face after you said he never wanted you.
Like you’d reached into his chest and pulled something out barehanded.
Your stomach twists painfully at the memory.
Then you remember what happened after.
The way he just let you leave, didn't follow you or stop you.
Didn’t say the words you desperately needed him to say.
And that hurts worst of all, because now you know enough to ruin yourself properly. Now you know there was something there.
Meanwhile Steve spends those same three days feeling like someone physically removed his internal organs and forgot to put them back.
He barely sleeps the first night.
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face in the video store again.
The confusion turning into anger, then that horrible wounded expression right before you left.
Steve’s never hated himself more than he does in that moment replaying endlessly through his head at three in the morning.
Because how did this happen?
How did he spend months loving you so obviously in his own mind while somehow completely failing to make you feel wanted?
The realization genuinely wrecks him.
He keeps thinking about your voice when you said
“You don’t get to act possessive over me when you’ve never actually wanted me.”
And Jesus Christ... The fact that you believed that.
The fact that somehow you spent all this time thinking his feelings weren’t real makes Steve feel sick with guilt.
Because to him, loving you became as natural as breathing somewhere along the line.
He forgot you couldn’t actually read his mind.
Forgot that not everyone interprets devotion through stupid little things the way he does.
To Steve, it felt obvious.
He looked for you first in every room. Memorized your coffee order. Drove across town at midnight whenever you called. Spent entire conversations staring at your mouth without realizing it. Let you touch parts of him emotionally nobody else had seen in years.
In his head, he’d been loving you loudly for months.
But he never actually said it.
And now he understands that maybe you needed him to.
The second day is somehow worse, Because now you’re fully avoiding him
No calls. No stopping by Family Video. Nothing.
The absence of you feels violent suddenly.
Steve never realized how much of his life revolved around you until your silence settled over everything.
Even Dustin notices almost immediately.
“You guys had a fight or something?” he asks while climbing into Steve’s car after school.
Steve grips the steering wheel tighter automatically.
“You’re both acting weird.”
Because he doesn’t even know where to start explaining this.
How does he tell Dustin that somewhere between movie nights and summer drives and hearing you laugh from another room, he accidentally fell so deeply in love with you that now functioning like a normal person feels impossible?
Instead he just drives in silence while Dustin keeps glancing at him suspiciously from the passenger seat.
“You know y/n’s being weird too, right?” Dustin says eventually.
Steve’s heart immediately betrays him.
“She keeps asking if you stopped by.”
Dustin notices instantly.
“Oh my God,” he says slowly. “You’re in love with my sister.”
Steve nearly swerves into another lane.
“No way.” Dustin sounds genuinely delighted now. “This is disgusting.”
Steve groans and drops his forehead briefly against the steering wheel at the next red light while Dustin cackles beside him.
But even through the embarrassment, Steve’s chest still aches at the thought of you asking about him.
Because you miss him too.
That thought becomes the only thing keeping him sane for the next twenty four hours.
By day three, Robin is fully losing patience with him.
Steve’s been standing in the middle of the action aisle for almost five straight minutes holding the same tape without moving while his brain replays the argument again for probably the hundredth time.
Robin watches him from behind the counter with growing irritation.
Finally she slams the register drawer shut loud enough to make him flinch.
“If you stare dramatically into the distance one more time,” she says flatly, “I’m calling a priest.”
“That wasn’t a joke. I think your soul left your body yesterday.”
Which immediately tells her this is worse than she thought.
Robin walks over slowly, arms crossing over her chest while Steve continues staring blankly at nothing.
Steve laughs once under his breath.
“She absolutely does not hate you.” Robin’s expression softens slightly.
“You didn’t see her face.”
“I did actually.” Robin leans against the shelf beside him. “You both looked like someone shot your dog.”
Steve shuts his eyes briefly.
Because that’s exactly how it felt.
Robin watches him carefully for another second before speaking again.
“What exactly happened after I went into the back room?”
Steve hesitates before telling her, not everything but some.
Robin physically recoils.
Steve drops his head into his hands.
“No, like actually. This is so painful to witness.”
Steve laughs weakly despite himself, but it disappears almost immediately.
Because underneath everything else, one thought keeps eating through him relentlessly.
You thought he didn’t choose you.
After all this time, somehow you still believed he wouldn’t.
“What am I supposed to say?”
“The truth?” Robin says like it’s obvious. “Crazy concept, I know”
Steve looks away again immediately.
The truth is that Steve loves you enough to rearrange his entire life around your existence without noticing he’s doing it.
The truth is that every future thought in his head somehow includes you automatically now.
The truth is that seeing another guy touch you made him feel physically sick because somewhere deep down, some selfish broken part of him already thinks of you as his even though he’s never had the courage to ask if he could be yours too.
How is he supposed to say all of that out loud without completely falling apart?
Robin watches panic flicker across his face in real time and immediately understands.
For a second neither of them speaks.
Then Robin nudges his shoulder lightly.
“She’s probably just as scared as you are, you know.”
Steve thinks about your face in the video store again.
And suddenly something inside him snaps into place painfully hard.
Because maybe Robin’s right, Maybe you’re hurting too.
Maybe this entire thing only happened because both of you were too terrified of losing each other to admit what was already there.
The drive to your house feels longer than it actually is.
Steve keeps both hands locked tightly around the steering wheel the entire time like if he loosens his grip even slightly, he might lose his nerve and turn the car around before he gets there.
Streetlights blur past the windows in soft streaks of yellow while the radio hums quietly in the background, low enough that he can barely hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat.
Everything in him feels restless, like his chest physically cannot hold another second of this.
And honestly, Steve’s not sure what scares him more anymore, telling you the truth or spending another day pretending he can survive without you.
His thoughts keep circling back to the same horrible realization over and over again.
You thought he didn’t choose you.
After every look and every touch and every moment where he practically handed you pieces of himself without realizing it, somehow you still believed he didn’t want you enough.
That thought alone makes him feel sick.
Steve pulls onto your street just after midnight.
Most of the houses are dark already, quiet in that specific late night suburban way where everything feels softer somehow. The air outside is warm when he steps out of the car, carrying the smell of summer pavement and distant rain that never actually came.
Your bedroom light is off.
For a second he just stands there staring up at your window feeling sixteen again.
Then he bends down, grabs a few small rocks from beside the curb, and throws one lightly against your window.
Steve exhales sharply and tries again.
By the third rock, he’s starting to feel genuinely insane.
“Great,” he mutters under his breath. “Fantastic plan, Harrington.”
Then finally your curtains move slightly.
Relief hits him so fast it almost knocks the air from his lungs.
A second later your window slides open and there you are, sleep rumpled and exhausted looking down at him with immediate disbelief written all over your face.
Your hair’s messy from bed.
There’s a crease pressed lightly into your cheek from your pillow.
And somehow Steve still thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life.
“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly.
Steve shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket mostly so you won’t notice they’re shaking.
“I was emotionally spiraling.”
Despite yourself, your mouth twitches slightly.
Steve notices immediately because of course he does.
The tiny almost smile disappears just as fast though, replaced by something more guarded.
The last three days are still sitting heavily between both of you.
You glance behind you into your dark room for a second before looking back down at him carefully.
“You couldn’t have called?”
Steve laughs softly under his breath.
“You haven’t answered the phone in three days.”
Silence stretches for a second.
The warm night air presses softly against your skin while Steve looks up at you with an expression so openly nervous it makes your stomach twist unexpectedly.
Because Steve doesn’t usually look unsure of himself around you.
“Can I come up?” he asks quietly.
Your heart stumbles hard enough to hurt.
Part of you wants to say no purely on principle.
Because he hurt and confused you.
Because you’ve spent three straight nights replaying that fight until your chest physically ached from it.
But another part of you—the bigger part unfortunately—has missed him so badly it’s become unbearable.
You missed his voice. You missed his stupid commentary during movies. Missed the way he fills space in your room like he belongs there naturally.
Three days without Steve feels wrong in ways you don’t even know how to explain to yourself yet.
So eventually you sigh quietly and step back from the window.
Steve’s relief is immediate and impossible to miss.
It moves across his face so fast it almost looks painful, like he’d been fully prepared for you to shut the window in his face and leave him standing out there alone with everything he should’ve said days ago.
His shoulders loosen first.
Then his expression softens in that quiet unguarded way you only ever catch accidentally, usually late at night when he’s too tired to hide what he’s feeling properly.
For a second neither of you says anything.
You just step back from the window silently while Steve looks up at you like he can’t quite believe you still let him in after everything.
The guilt from that alone settles heavily in your chest.
Because no matter how upset you were these last few days, some part of you always would've opened the window for him anyway.
And apparently your heart has never learned how to deny him anything for very long.
A minute later you hear the quiet scrape of his shoes against the side of the house followed by the familiar thud of him climbing through your window with significantly less grace than he probably imagined in his head.
Normally you would’ve laughed.
Normally Steve would’ve made some sarcastic comment about risking his life for you while dramatically dusting himself off afterward.
Tonight neither of you does.
Steve catches himself against the frame awkwardly before stepping into your room, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts so sharply it almost steals the air from your lungs.
Because the room feels different with him in it again.
Like the last three days left behind an absence you only notice now that it’s gone.
Your bedroom had felt too quiet without Steve in it.
Too still. You didn’t realize how used to him you’d become until he disappeared and took half the warmth in your routines with him.
Now he’s here again standing near your window in faded jeans and a denim jacket thrown hastily over a gray tshirt like he got dressed too quickly to think properly. His hair looks messy from running his hands through it too much, and there are dark circles beneath his eyes that make something ache deep in your chest because suddenly you wonder if he slept as badly as you did.
Your pulse becomes unbearable immediately.
You sit cross legged near the end of your bed mostly because your legs suddenly don’t feel steady enough to trust standing anymore while Steve lingers awkwardly by the window like he’s unsure whether he’s still allowed to take up space here.
That more than anything almost breaks your heart.
Because Steve has always belonged in your room.
He used to walk in carelessly, all easy confidence and lazy smiles while stealing hoodies off your chair or collapsing dramatically across your bed like he lived there half the time.
Like one wrong movement might make you ask him to leave.
The realization hurts far more than you expect it to.
Steve glances around your room briefly, and you can physically feel the tension radiating off him in quiet waves. His hands flex once at his sides before disappearing into his jacket pockets again, a nervous habit you only started noticing recently because apparently you notice everything about him now too.
The silence between you stretches softly.
Your bedside lamp casts warm gold across the room while summer wind drifts lazily through the still open window behind him, stirring the curtains slightly. Somewhere downstairs the house creaks quietly, your mom probably asleep in front of the television again, completely unaware that your entire life feels seconds away from changing permanently upstairs.
Steve keeps looking at you like he’s trying to gather the courage to say something that might ruin him completely depending on how you react.
Finally, the silence becomes too much to sit inside anymore.
You pull your arms tighter across yourself like it might somehow steady the mess happening in your chest and force your voice to come out even despite the way your pulse keeps climbing higher the longer Steve looks at you like that.
The word lands softly between you, but it still feels sharp enough to split something open.
Steve drags a hand back through his hair immediately, fingers catching for a second like he’s already frustrated with himself for not knowing how to start this properly. You watch his throat move when he swallows hard, eyes flicking away from yours before finding them again almost helplessly.
And suddenly he looks younger somehow.
Not physically but, stripped down in a way you’ve never seen before.
No easy grin to hide behind.
No carefully timed sarcasm to soften whatever he’s actually feeling.
It’s just Steve standing in your bedroom at one in the morning looking terrified enough to ruin you completely.
Then quietly, almost like the words hurt coming out
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Everything inside you stops.
Your heartbeat stutters once so hard it almost feels painful, and for a second your brain genuinely refuses to process what he just said because the sentence itself feels too impossible to exist outside your imagination.
You’ve spent months wanting this.
Months replaying tiny moments over and over again wondering if they meant as much to Steve as they did to you.
And now he’s standing in front of you saying the exact thing you trained yourself not to hope for too much.
Steve lets out a quiet breath afterward, but it sounds uneven around the edges. Wrecked, almost. Like even saying it out loud physically shook something loose inside him.
Then he shakes his head once immediately after, eyes dropping toward the floor.
“Actually, no,” he says softly, correcting himself before you can even react.
Your chest tightens instantly.
Steve looks back up at you then, and the expression on his face nearly undoes you on the spot because there’s nothing uncertain left in it now.
“I know I’m in love with you.”
The room goes so quiet afterward that you can hear the soft buzzing of your bedside lamp and the faint sound of cicadas outside drifting through the open window behind him.
Because what are you even supposed to do with that?
Part of you feels almost detached from your own body suddenly, like this entire moment exists slightly outside reality. You’ve imagined versions of this conversation so many times over the last few months that now it’s actually happening, your brain can’t catch up fast enough.
Steve looks at you for so long afterward that it almost becomes unbearable to sit inside.
Like now that the words are finally out in the open, he doesn’t know how to pull himself back together again.
Your room feels painfully quiet around him. The warm light from your bedside lamp catches against the exhaustion written across his face while summer air drifts softly through the curtains behind him, and suddenly you realize something that makes your chest ache immediately—
Steve didn’t come here tonight planning to protect himself.
He came here planning to tell the truth even if it destroyed him afterward.
The realization settles heavily into you while he stands there searching your face nervously, like he’s trying to figure out whether he already ruined everything by saying too much.
Then finally he laughs once under his breath.
“You know what’s insane?” he asks quietly.
You shake your head before you even realize you’re doing it.
Steve’s eyes stay fixed on yours when he speaks again.
“I genuinely thought I was being obvious.”
The words hit you hard enough to hurt.
Because now that he’s saying it—now that you’re looking back through everything with this new understanding—the signs suddenly feel everywhere.
The staring, the jealousy, the way he always reached for you first without thinking.
The way he’d show up at your house even when Dustin wasn’t there.
The softness in his voice whenever he said your name.
You swallow hard while Steve drags a tired hand down across his face.
“I didn’t even realize when it happened,” he admits. “That’s the worst part.”
His voice has gone quieter now.
Like each sentence is pulling something deeper out of him against his will.
“One day you were just…” He exhales slowly. “Dustin’s sister. The girl who insulted me in your kitchen while I bled all over the floor.”
Despite everything, a small breath of laughter escapes you.
Steve’s mouth twitches faintly at the sound before softening again almost immediately.
“And then suddenly you were the first person I wanted to tell things to.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
Steve glances away for a second, jaw shifting slightly like he’s trying to steady himself enough to keep going.
“I started looking for you without realizing it,” he says quietly. “Everywhere.”
The honesty in his voice feels almost unbearable now.
“If I walked into your house and you weren’t there yet, it ruined my mood instantly. If something funny happened during my day, I’d catch myself thinking about how you’d react before I even thought about telling anybody else.”
His eyes find yours again.
“And then you started dating people.”
The sentence lands differently.
You physically see the hurt move across his face this time.
Steve laughs softly under his breath again, but it sounds exhausted.
Steve shakes his head once immediately afterward.
“Not because you did anything wrong,” he says quickly. “I know you didn’t. I know you were allowed to date people and live your life and whatever, but every time some guy picked you up, I felt…” He stops abruptly, frustrated with himself already. “I don’t know. Like somebody was slowly replacing me without me noticing.”
The confession cracks something open in your chest.
Steve takes another step closer unconsciously while he talks, like his body keeps drifting toward you no matter how hard he tries controlling it.
“I’d sit there listening to you talk about dates pretending I was okay while feeling completely insane inside.” His expression twists slightly, embarrassed now. “And then afterward you’d still lean against me like nothing changed.”
His voice softens at that.
You can barely breathe properly anymore.
“Even after other guys,” Steve says quietly, “you still came back to me.”
The room goes still around the two of you.
neither of you expected that sentence to sound as intimate as it just did.
“That’s when I knew it was bad,” he admits.
Steve huffs out a faint laugh.
“I’m trying not to completely scare you off here.”
“You’re doing a terrible job.”
But neither of you are really joking anymore.
Steve’s eyes stay locked onto yours while he speaks again, quieter this time.
“I knew I loved you the night you fell asleep on my shoulder after that date.”
Your pulse stutters violently.
Steve looks down briefly like even admitting this still embarrasses him somehow.
“You were half asleep complaining that I smelled like cigarettes.” A soft smile pulls faintly at the corner of his mouth. “And I remember sitting there thinking I could do this forever.”
Your throat tightens instantly.
Because you remember that night too.
You remember leaning against him without thinking.
Remember how safe it felt.
Meanwhile Steve was apparently sitting beside you realizing he loved you enough to ruin himself over it.
“I started thinking about stupid things after that,” he admits quietly.
Steve laughs once under his breath, looking genuinely shy for maybe the first time you’ve ever seen.
“Like… grocery shopping with you.”
“I told you they were stupid.”
“No,” you say softly before you can stop yourself. “Keep going.”
Something changes in his expression after that.
Like your answer gave him permission to finally say the things he’s been swallowing down for months.
Steve steps even closer until he’s standing directly in front of you now, close enough that your knees nearly brush against his jeans where you sit at the edge of the bed.
“I’d think about stupid domestic things all the time,” he admits. “About driving over here after work and finding you asleep on the couch. Or arguing with you in grocery store aisles over cereal. Or hearing you laugh in another room while I was making coffee.”
Your chest starts aching now because steve’s not talking about wanting you temporarily, He’s talking about building a life around you so naturally he didn’t even notice he was doing it.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” he says honestly. “Not even close.
“You got so important to me so fast that it actually scared me,” he admits. “suddenly every good part of my day somehow involved you. And every bad part got easier if I could talk to you afterward.”
Your eyes burn slightly at that.
His expression softens with something almost heartbreaking.
“And then at Family Video,” he says quietly, “when you said you thought I never wanted you…”
He stops there. Swallows hard.
You watch emotion move visibly through him before he forces himself to continue.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard something hurt that bad in my life.”
Steve shakes his head faintly, eyes still fixed on yours like he physically cannot look away anymore.
“I wanted you so badly it was ruining me,” he says softly. “I just didn’t know how to say it without risking losing you completely.”
The room goes completely still after that.
Just quiet in the kind of way that feels fragile, like even breathing too loudly might crack the moment apart before either of you are ready for it to end.
Steve’s standing so close now that you can see every tiny shift in his expression as it happens. The nervousness still lingering around his eyes. The exhaustion pulled into the corners of his mouth from too many sleepless nights. The vulnerability he’s making absolutely no attempt to hide from you anymore.
Steve has always been beautiful, everybody and their mothers know that.
But this version of him standing in front of you now—messy hair, tired eyes, voice rough from honesty—is the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
Steve watches you carefully, like he’s trying to read your reaction before you even speak. You can tell he’s bracing himself for something. Rejection maybe. Hesitation. The possibility that he’s already said too much and there’s no taking it back now.
And the awful thing is that part of you understands exactly why he’s scared. You’re scared because suddenly this thing between you is real now. Tangible. Sitting openly in the middle of your bedroom where neither of you can hide behind almost anymore.
For months everything lived safely underneath the surface.
Lingering looks could still be accidents.
Jealousy could still be explained away.
Late night window visits and stolen touches and the way Steve looked at you like you were something worth protecting could all still exist in that blurry space between friendship and something else.
Now Steve’s standing in front of you admitting he imagined grocery shopping with you.
And somehow that feels infinitely more intimate than if he’d just said he wanted to kiss you.
You look down at your hands because suddenly your eyes burn in a way that feels embarrassing.
Immediately Steve’s expression changes.
Concern flashes across his face so quickly it almost startles you.
The gentleness in his voice nearly ruins you.
“I’m sorry if this is too much.”
Your head snaps up instantly.
Steve studies your face carefully.
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, shaky and quiet and completely overwhelmed.
His face falls immediately.
You press your lips together briefly, trying to steady yourself enough to explain properly. “I’m upset because I spent months convincing myself you could never feel this way about me.”
“Are you serious?” he asks quietly.
You let out another weak laugh, looking away again because saying this out loud feels humiliating now that you know the truth.
“Steve, do you know how many times I talked myself out of reading too much into things?”
His eyebrows pull together slightly.
You stare at him in disbelief.
“What things?” you repeat. “Are you kidding?”
“I genuinely don’t know.”
The words leave your mouth with exhausted affection threaded through them, and Steve actually looks confused enough that despite everything happening right now, part of you wants to laugh again.
“You’d look at me for like…” You gesture vaguely. “Entire conversations.”
You shake your head immediately.
“No, because then you’d touch me all the time and act jealous every time I went out with somebody, and then two seconds later you’d flirt with some waitress at the diner like it was nothing.”
Steve groans softly and drops his head back toward the ceiling.
“Oh my God, not the waitress thing again.”
“It was devastating for me, actually.”
That makes him look at you again instantly.
And suddenly something shifts.
Because that sentence slipped out too honestly.
Steve’s eyes search yours carefully.
Heat rushes into your face immediately.
“That was literally a confession.”
“You just said devastating.”
You cover your face with both hands instantly while Steve lets out the first real laugh you’ve heard from him in days.
You missed that sound so much.
“I cannot believe this,” he says, still laughing quietly under his breath. “We’re actually idiots.”
“You are definitely more at fault here.”
“Me?” Steve points toward himself in genuine disbelief. “You dated like four guys.”
“Because I thought you didn’t want me!”
“I thought you didn’t want me either!”
You stare at each other for half a second.
Then both of you start laughing at the exact same time.
Not because any of this is actually funny.
Mostly because the emotional tension sitting between you has become so huge that something had to break eventually.
Steve’s laughter fades first.
You watch the exact moment it happens.
Watch his expression soften again while he looks at you sitting there on the edge of your bed smiling for the first time in days.
And suddenly the atmosphere changes all over again.
The space between you feels charged in a way it never has before because now everything is out in the open. Every lingering touch from the last few months suddenly means something different.
Your pulse starts climbing again almost immediately when Steve steps closer.
This time neither of you pretends not to notice it.
He stops directly in front of you, knees brushing lightly against yours where you’re sitting at the edge of the mattress, and the contact alone sends warmth rushing all the way up your spine.
Steve’s touched you a thousand times before.
His hands on your waist guiding you through crowds.
His arm slung around your shoulders during movies.
Your legs tangled together in the passenger seat during late night drives.
But this feels entirely different now.
Now you know what it meant to him and, you know what it meant to you too.
Steve looks down at you quietly for a second, something almost disbelieving still lingering in his expression like he hasn’t fully processed the fact that you feel the same way yet.
“You really tried getting over me?”
Steve watches you carefully.
You laugh weakly under your breath. “Pretty bad.”
“Steve, I literally went out with other people because I thought maybe eventually I’d stop comparing everybody to you.”
That wipes the remaining traces of amusement off his face instantly.
His expression turns almost unbearably soft instead.
“You compared people to me?”
That confession makes something flicker visibly across his face.
Like the idea matters to him far more than it probably should.
“How come?” he asks quietly.
You look down briefly because admitting this suddenly feels terrifying in a completely different way now that he’s standing so close.
But Steve waits patiently.
He just stays there looking at you like whatever answer you give him might become the most important thing he hears all night.
So eventually you tell him the truth.
“Because nobody else ever felt safe the way you do.”
Steve’s breath catches softly.
You keep going before you lose your nerve.
“With other people, I always felt like I had to perform a little.” Your fingers twist nervously together in your lap. “Like I had to be interesting enough or pretty enough or say the right thing all the time.”
Steve’s face tightens slightly at that.
“But with you…” You finally look back up at him. “I never really had to think about it.”
The room feels impossibly quiet now.
Steve stares at you like you just reached directly into his chest and touched something fragile there.
Then after a second he shakes his head faintly, almost in disbelief.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says softly.
The way he says it nearly melts every coherent thought left in your brain.
Steve’s eyes drop briefly to your mouth before catching himself.
But this time neither of you ignores it.
Your breath catches instantly.
And suddenly all those months of tension settle heavily into the space between you at once. Every almost moment. Every lingering glance. Every touch that lasted slightly too long.
Steve notices your pulse jump in your throat.
You know he notices because his expression changes immediately afterward, softening into something careful.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.
The words send warmth rushing through your chest so fast it almost hurts.
Because even now, after everything he’s still making sure.
Still giving you a choice.
You stare at him for a second too long before whispering
Steve exhales shakily like he’d still been preparing himself for rejection anyway before he leans in slowly, carefully enough that your heart starts pounding impossibly hard against your ribs.
And when he kisses you, it feels nothing like you expected.
Soft in a way that immediately makes something inside you melt completely because Steve kisses you like you’re something precious to him. Like he’s been thinking about this for so long that now he’s terrified of getting any part of it wrong.
His hand slides gently to the side of your neck while your fingers instinctively curl into the front of his jacket, pulling him slightly closer without even realizing you’re doing it.
Steve makes the quietest sound against your mouth at that.
The kiss deepens slowly, natural and careful and achingly sweet in a way that makes your chest feel painfully full.
suddenly it makes sense, why nobody else ever felt right, why every room felt different when steve walked into it, why being around him always felt a little dangerous in the best possible way.
When steve finally pulls back, neither of you move
His forehead rests lightly against yours while both of you try catching your breath in the quiet afterward.
You let out a breathless laugh.
Steve opens his eyes enough to look at you.
“That was actually worse than I imagined.”
You blink at him in confusion.
“You know.” His mouth twitches slightly. “For my emotional stability.”
You laugh again, and the sound seems to physically brighten something in his face.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs without thinking.
The words hit both of you at the exact same time.
Steve freezes immediately afterward.
Then very slowly, heat creeps up the back of his neck.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he admits.
You stare at him for another second before smiling despite yourself.
The look Steve gives you after that nearly stops your heart entirely.
Then suddenly he’s smiling too, and it’s different from the smiles you’re used to from him. Less practiced somehow. Less aware of itself.
The realization sends warmth flooding through your chest.
Steve leans down and kisses you again before either of you can say anything else, quicker this time but no less careful, and you can feel him smiling slightly against your mouth halfway through it.
“You know what’s humiliating?” he says quietly afterward.
“I had an entire speech prepared in the car.”
You burst out laughing immediately.
“I’m serious.” He groans softly, dragging one hand over his face. “Robin made me rehearse things.”
“She said if I came over here and said something stupid, she’d legally disown me.”
Your laughter gets louder at that, and steve watches you with the kind of expression people only get when they’re looking at something they love too much.
The thought hits you suddenly and hard enough to steal your breath for half a second.
Steve loves you enough to lose sleep over it.
The weight of it settles warmly into your chest.
You reach up without thinking and brush your fingers lightly through the messy front pieces of his hair.
Steve goes completely still.
Your hand pauses immediately.
He just shakes his head faintly.
“No, it’s just…” A soft laugh leaves him. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Your stomach flips embarrassingly hard.
“You say things like that and then expect me to function normally afterward?”
Steve grins properly then, all warmth and affection and relief tangled together now that the worst part is finally over.
Then his expression softens again when he looks at you.
“You know,” he says quietly, “these were probably the worst three days of my life.”
“Yeah, but this was super upsetting.”
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away immediately.
A comfortable silence settles between you after that while Steve sits beside you on the bed now, shoulders pressed together naturally like the distance of the last few weeks never existed at all.
Outside, summer night stretches quietly around the house while the clock beside your bed creeps closer toward two in the morning.
Neither of you seems interested in sleeping.
Steve absentmindedly traces shapes against your wrist while you lean against his shoulder, and every once in a while one of you looks at the other and starts smiling all over again for no reason besides this still feeling unreal.
Eventually Steve presses a kiss softly into your hair and murmurs against the top of your head,
“You know Dustin’s gonna be insufferable when he finds out.”
“Oh, he’s never letting us live this down.”
Steve’s arm tightens slightly around you before he speaks again, quieter now.
“I really am in love with you, by the way.”
Your chest aches warmly at the sincerity in his voice.
You tilt your head enough to look up at him properly. “I know.”
Then he kisses your forehead like he’s been wanting to do that for months too.
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