(djo’s version)

He usually doesn't come home too late from work, but sometimes, Keith asks him to take the closing shift. Those days, he doesn't get home until well after the sun is down.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he'll make sure to find you and greet you with a kiss, like that's all he needs to melt away the stress of his long day. He'll leave lazy, short pecks on your lips, making sure to taste you throughly. His hands—which usually roam your waist and your ass with indecisiveness—will cup your jaw tenderly, holding you in place, gently tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls away, he'll graze your cheek with his thumb and smile drowsily at you, whispering a soft "Hi", like he didn't just render you speechless in less than a minute.

Once in a while, Robin drag Steve into a dive bar, and then he'll come home a little tipsy—bordering on drunk—stumbling a little and laughing at nothing in particular.

Those days are secretly your favorite, because on those, he kisses you without burden, maybe even a little sloppily, but you find it endearing. He can't help but grin against your lips and chase after you when you part from him. His hands squeeze your hips playfully, almost like a little kid demanding attention.

And yeah, maybe the next morning he'll whine and complain that his head hurts, but it was worth it because it meant you got to baby him until he felt better.

Then there's the rare occasion where Steve comes home angry. Angry at a customer, angry at his parents, sometimes even angry at Dustin, God knows why. Those days are rough, not because he's snappy, but because he's fully closed off.

He'll shut the front door a bit too loudly and barely even acknowledge you before sighing and plopping down on the couch. And at first, you let him breathe, have a moment to calm down. Then you sit down next to him, letting him choose when to move closer. He chooses that same moment—like moth to a flame—and throws his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to him.

He'll start with a kiss to the crown of your head, your cheek, then he'll shift and peck the corner of your mouth, before finally giving you a proper kiss. He'll lay you back, propping himself on his elbows and enveloping you with his broad frame, barely parting from you.

He'll give kisses like he's taking, taking your sweetness, taking your patience, your kindness. He'll take, and take from you, all night, until he can't even remember what he was mad about.

The next moment, you worst fears were confirmed. All you heard was Steve’s scream on the other end, a series of shouts and the nothing. Everything suddenly sounded distant and muffled. You clutched the walkie tightly in your hand, exchanging a worried glance with Jonathan as all manner of bad thoughts jumped into your head.

“S-Steve?” You spoke quietly into the walkie, voice quivering a little. “Are you there?”

Steve had been your friend for a while now. Ever since he’d first fallen in with Dustin, he’d been this constant presence in your life, seeping into all the cracks and crevices until you realised that he was taking up permanent residence in your head, all the time. His stupid smile, the way he never took himself too seriously, his massive heart and the way he went all out for your brother and his friends. Somewhere along the way, you’d fallen stupidly in love with him

Not that you’d ever actually tell him, of course. You two were friends, that was all it was. Besides, the constant threat of living in Hawkins made having any kind of serious relationship difficult anyway. There was always that fear that something bad would happen, and you knew that if you let him all the way in and it did, it would actually destroy you.

So when you heard his scream on the line, it felt like for a moment your heart had stopped.

“Steve, are you there? Answer me, please!” You felt tears threatening to spill. “Are you OK?” There was still no answer. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. Jonathan gave you a reassuring look.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m sure they just ran into some trouble, but Nancy’s there too. You know she’ll get them out of it.”

You tried to believe him, but it was hard. Steve never kept you waiting, He called when he said he would, always showed up for you. If he was really OK, nothing would stop him from grabbing the walkie and letting you know. He knew how much you worried about the whole group but especially him.

Ever since the night you’d gone round to visit him after a crawl and found him curled up on the couch in the midst of a panic attack, completely alone and unable to deal with it. That was the night you realised the extent of your feelings for him. Kneeling down in front of him, getting him to focus on your breathing. He’d been so scared, but your presence had grounded him and helped him come back down to Earth. As soon as his breaths became normal again, you’d come up to sit next to him and he’d practically melted into you, letting you hold him through it as he sobbed into your shoulder.

Steve never let anyone see him cry. Perhaps the only other exception was Robin, who remembered all too well when they’d been tortured by the Russians and had seen him vulnerable. The two of them were entirely comfortable around each other, never tiptoeing around the truth. But with you it as different. You were like an anchor for Steve, keeping him tied down even when the whole world was crumbling around him. As you’d stroked his hair and rubbed circles into his back, he’d calmed down somewhat, still hugging you tightly.

“Hey, are you good?” You’d asked him, not letting him go. “It’s alright, just breathe.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder.

“What are you apologising for?”

“I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.”

“Hey.” You pulled away gently so you could look at him, though he kept a hold of your arm. “You never have to apologise to me, alright? I know you think you have to be strong for the kids, but you can be real with me. What happened tonight was rough, you don’t have to pretend you’re OK all the time.”

Steve had looked at you with big doe eyes, gently rubbing your arm with his thumb. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Oh, you’d be lost without me.” You joked, lightening the mood. “But that’s OK, cause I’d be lost without you as well.

You grabbed the walkie again, refusing to give up hope. “Steve!” You shouted into it. “I swear to God, tell me what’s happening?”

Finally you heard some commotion before a voice came through. “Hey, guys.”

“Dustin?” You said, confidence shaking. “What’s going on? Is everything OK, are you safe?"

"I'm fine, I'm not hurt."

A breath of relief escaped you. "Where’s Steve?”

You heard him sigh. “OK, don’t freak out.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “What does that mean?”

“Steve’s hurt.”

“Hurt? How?”

“We got ambushed by some demodogs, one of them tried to get him. Nance managed to shoot and scare them off but…it got him in the leg.” Dustin’s voice wobbled.

“Dustin, is he alright?”

“He’s still alive, don’t worry. But he’s in bad shape.”

You collapsed against the seat as Jonathan picked up speed, trying to get to the gate faster. “Are you guys coming back?”

“Yeah, we’re on our way now. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back to you, I promise.”

Your brother was never one to make empty promises. “Alright, just be safe. We’re almost at the gate, we’ll see you soon.

***

With his promise to you ringing around in his head, Dustin hurried over to help Lucas carry Steve who was slumped against him, breathing heavily as the gravity of the situation hit him like a freight train. They’d managed to bind his leg with one of their jackets, a temporary solution which would have to do for now. As Dustin put one of his arms around his neck, he managed a weak smile.

“Hey, don’t sweat it Henderson. I’ve been through worse.”

“Have you?” Dustin was unconvinced. “I don’t want to stress you out but your leg looks pretty bad, man.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “Maybe it’ll get me some sympathy points. Either way I’ll have a bad-ass scar.”

Dustin rolled his eyes but truthfully as long as his best friend kept talking, that was good with him. It meant he was still with them. “Let’s talk about something else while we get you back to the gate.”

Steve groaned in pain as they started moving, Nancy taking the lead as the sharpest shooter amongst them. “That’s far, man. I don’t know-“

“You’re going to make it.” Dustin interrupted him. “You are because I promised my sister I’d get you back in once peace.”

“Your sister?” Steve’s voice sounded brighter as the topic became about you.

“Yeah.” Dustin nodded. “Why don’t we talk about her for a minute?”

Steve smiled again despite the pain in his leg. “She’s awesome. You know I never met anyone like her before.” Maybe it was the blood loss talking but suddenly he was laying everything bare. “She’s my favourite person in the world.”

“OK, I’ll try not to take that personally.” Dustin joked. “Keep talking, tell me why?”

“You know after one crawl she stayed with me for the entire night. It was when Robin almost died. I got home and just crumbled, man. I couldn’t take it. She came round to check on me and found me there. I kept telling her I was fine but she knew the truth, I didn’t want to be on my own. So she stayed. She must have been exhausted, but she stayed with me.”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah, she does that. She’s got a big heart.”

“She always says she couldn’t do this without me, but it’s the other way around. I couldn’t do it without her.”

“We’re almost there!” Nancy called back to them.

“Hear that, we’re almost there. Almost back to her.”

Steve exhaled as he realised he would soon be back with you, back home. Because you were his home. “I need to tell her…” He trailed off, vision going a little dizzy.

“Tell her what, Steve? What do you need to tell her?”

“Man, I really don’t feel good.”

Lucas, who had been remaining respectfully quiet during the whole interaction, finally chipped in. “Come on, Steve. What do you need to tell her?”

That seemed to jolt him out of his stupor. “I never told anyone before but I’m going to marry that girl one day.” He grimaced as Dustin accidentally knocked his leg, wincing in pain.

“Sorry.” He responded. “Wasn’t expecting you to say that is all.”

Lucas gave Dustin a knowing smile as Steve took a breath. “It’s good, man. I know she’s your sister, but I mean it. She’s like my favourite person ever.” His words were starting to slow, but it was alright.

“We’re here.” Nancy shouted, leading the charge as they finally made it back through the gate, leaving the Upside-Down behind and returning home.

***

You stood anxiously next to Jonathan in front of the gate, counting down the seconds in your head. What if something had happened, what if there had been more demodogs? Your brother was in there, you couldn’t handle it if anything went wrong. No, you tried to still your breathing. Steve would never let anything happen to Dustin, he’d lay his own life down first. As your mind went into overdrive, you suddenly heard Jonathan calling your name.

“Look, there.” He pointed to the gate. You looked up to see figures emerging from it, all too familiar. Nancy, Robin, Mike, Will. And then…

“Oh thank God.” Your feet started moving as you ran to them, immediately catching Steve as he almost fell forward. You put an arm around him, holding him up as you reached out with your other hand to squeeze your brother’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “We’re fine. But he needs help.”

Steve had melted into you, putting all his weight on you. Of course, you were the one person he trusted enough to lean on completely. Turning your full attention to him, you helped him limp over to sit down as Jonathan came over with the medical supplies you’d bought, handing them to you. You grabbed the bandages and carefully removed the jacket to reveal the wound on his leg.

“Jesus, Steve.” You breathed.

“It’s not even that bad.” He argued, though his eyes were screwed shut from the pain and his jaw was clenched.

“Stop being such a damn hero, let me take care of you, OK?”

He sighed and opened his eyes slowly, nodding. “Fine.”

You gently cleaned up the wound as best you could despite how bad it was, making sure to take extra care so as not to hurt him anymore. Every so often, you’d feel him tense up but you would place a hand on his arm every time, keeping him grounded. Eventually you were able to wrap the gauze around it. “There. It’s not perfect but it’ll do for now. You’ll need to go to the hospital to get it checked out.” You sighed, running a hand over your face. Steve noticed and he leaned forward, cupping your face with his hand as thumb gently stroked your jaw.

“Hey, it’s OK. I’m alright.”

“But you almost weren’t, Steve. What if it had been worse? I almost lost you today and I can’t…”

“Hey, hey.” Steve’s voice was soft, laced with concern. “I know. But I’m alright, I came back to you.”

“Promise me you always will?” You asked him.

Steve smiled at you before his gaze caught that of your brother across the way. With your back turned, he was pointing between the two of you, a secret signal meant just for Steve. He mustered all the courage he had. “Listen, honey. There’s something I need to tell…” He trailed off as another wave of dizziness hit him, almost falling into you if it weren’t for you holding him up.

“Alright, come on. I’m driving you to the hospital.” You gripped his arm and helped him up. “You’re still in pretty bad shape. Hey, Dustin!” You called over to your brother. “I’m taking Steve, will you be alright to get home.”

“Yeah, I’ll ride back with Nance.” He shouted back. “Look after him.”

“Jonathan, I’m borrowing your car.” You all but carried Steve over to the vehicle, helping him in before climbing into the drivers seat and setting off. As you drove, Steve’s head hit the back of the seat, but he kept sneaking glances at you until eventually you rolled your eyes. “What are you looking at?” You asked, laughing lightly.

“You’re really worried about me, huh?”

“Of course I am.” You gripped the wheel. “Steve, I know you think you have to play hero all the time and put yourself in dangerous situations, but you need to remember that I’m always back here waiting for you to come home. So, just please stop thinking that no one would care if you got hurt, because I think it might actually kill me.”

Your words settled under Steve’s skin and for the very first time, it hit him that there was someone who genuinely cared about what happened to him. Everyone else was wrapped up in all the other crazy stuff that was happening, but you were just worried about him. Maybe you were right, maybe it was time for him to stop being so reckless. It was time to get serious.

“Anyway, what did you want to tell me?” You asked him. “Before we left?”

Steve shifted slightly in his seat, despite the pain. “Yeah, about that. There’s some stuff I need to say to you, but maybe not when I’m dizzy from blood loss.” He chuckled softly. “Can we go back to your place after the hospital?”

“Sure.” You nodded. “But first we need to get that leg sorted out.

***

True to your word, you got Steve to the hospital and they were able to patch up his leg, even if you did have to stay with him and hold his hand as they stitched him up. If it had been anyone else, he would have felt the need to pretend everything was fine, but this was you. He insisted on keeping you close until it was all over and soon you were pulling up outside your house, the two of you making your way inside together.

“Hey,” you said as you opened the front door, letting yourself in. “At least you’ll have a pretty badass scar after it all. That’s like bragging rights for life.” You joked, turning to him with a smile as he shut the door, closing off the rest of the world. “You know you’ll be able to use that to get out of any-“

You were cut off suddenly by Steve pulling you into him, lips crashing with yours. The initial shock wore off pretty quickly as you melted into the kiss, sighing as Steve brushed your jaw softly with his fingers. After a moment he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to do that since I came through the gate.” He told you.

“You have?” You were still a little breathless.

“Are you kidding?” Steve laughed. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” He cupped your face again. “I’ve known for a while, but this whole thing made me realise I needed to tell you the truth. Ever since that night you stayed with me, you’ve always looked out for me, and I love being able to do the same for you. I love how caring and sweet you are, honey. I love you.”

A smile crept its way across your face. “You love me?”

Steve smile right back, stroking your jaw with his thumb. “I am stupidly, ridiculously in love with you.”

You nodded slowly. “Sure you’re not still delirious from the blood loss?”

“OK, are you really going to leave a guy hanging like that?” He raised his eyebrows with a smile.

“Sorry.” You laughed. “I’m kidding. Steve, I’ve been in love with you for months. I just never said anything because I was scared to mess up our friendship.”

“Hmm.” Steve traced your bottom lip. “I think it’s safe to say our friendship is officially ruined.”

“I’m not too mad about it.” You said, leaning in to kiss him again. This kiss didn’t stay sweet for too long as Steve’s tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft groan escaping him. His arms circled around you as he pulled you impossibly closer, and you gasped as his lips left yours and he began peppering kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. “Steve.” You breathed softly.

You felt him smirk against your skin. “Mmm, let me make you feel good, baby. Please?”

“Steve, your leg.” You tried to think straight despite how much his kisses were making your head spin.

“It’s fine.” He told you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot and making you moan, the sound doing things to him. “Please, baby.”

It didn’t take much convincing on your part. “OK.” You relented. “But we’re taking it slow, alright?”

Steve moved back to your lips, kissing you softly. “Always looking out for me, honey. I love you so much.”

Steve bites back a smile immediately.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he murmurs.

Your eyes narrow weakly. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

“The smug thing.”

Steve looks deeply unconvincing. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You absolutely do.”

His grin only widens as his nails scrape lightly against your scalp again.

Your entire body softens against him on instinct.

That immediate reaction that’s become so familiar over the past few months, Steve barely notices himself doing it anymore. The tiny exhale you make every single time his hands slide properly into your hair. The way your shoulders loosen beneath his arm. The gradual heaviness of your body settling more fully against his side.

It’s honestly ridiculous how effective it is.

Robin still calls him “human melatonin.”

Dustin’s started referring to him exclusively as “the Sandman.”

And unfortunately for everyone involved, both accusations are pretty accurate.

Especially now.

Because Steve’s barely touched your hair for thirty seconds before your eyes start drifting shut again.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” you mumble.

“I’m literally just touching your hair.”

“No,” you say sleepily. “You’re weaponising affection.”

Steve laughs quietly under his breath.

The thing is, he genuinely can’t deny it anymore.

Not when he knows exactly what this does to you now.

Not when some embarrassingly soft part of him likes it far too much.

Likes the trust of it.

The way you’ll fall asleep practically anywhere if he’s touching you gently enough. How instinctively you seek him out when you’re tired. The fact your body relaxes around him before you even consciously realise it’s happening.

That part affects him more than he’d ever admit out loud.

Which is why, when you suddenly tilt your head slightly against his shoulder and mumble, “Can you do the thing again?” Steve nearly loses coherent thought completely.

He looks down at you.

“…the thing?”

Your eyes stay shut.

“The hair thing.”

Something painfully fond twists low in Steve’s chest.

Because usually this happens accidentally. One of you ends up sprawled against the other during a film, or tangled together in bed, or sitting on the floor listening to music while Steve’s hands wander absentmindedly into your hair without either of you thinking much about it.

This is different.

This is you asking for it.

Actively seeking him out for comfort.

Steve clears his throat once. “Uh. Yeah. Obviously.”

You make a sleepy little humming noise immediately, shifting closer until your leg hooks loosely over his beneath the blanket.

Clingy.

Half asleep.

Trusting him completely.

Steve’s heart genuinely doesn’t stand a chance.

His fingers slide properly into your hair this time, scratching softly against your scalp while rain taps steadily against the windows outside.

The reaction is immediate.

Your breathing deepens slightly. Your whole body melts more heavily into his side. One of your hands curls absentmindedly into the fabric of his hoodie like you need something to hold onto while you drift off.

Steve stares down at you for a second.

“…Jesus Christ,” he mutters quietly.

You crack one eye open. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the man who accidentally Pavlov’d his girlfriend.”

Steve grins despite himself. “You almost started purring last week.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Your face disappears briefly into his chest in protest while Steve laughs softly, fingers never stopping their slow rhythm through your hair.

The room settles comfortably quiet after that.

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance while some awful commercial flickers silently across the television neither of you are really watching anymore.

Steve notices every stage of your exhaustion now.

The slower blinking.

The increasingly delayed responses.

The way your body gradually gets heavier against his side like gravity affects you more whenever he touches your hair for long enough.

“You’re falling asleep already,” he murmurs eventually.

“No I’m not.”

“You just stopped talking halfway through a sentence.”

“I was thinking.”

“Mhm.”

“I was.”

Steve smiles to himself as your words start blurring together slightly from tiredness.

“You’re so pleased with yourself about this,” you mumble.

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Steve says quietly, “this might actually be my greatest achievement.”

That gets a soft laugh out of you.

It fades quickly into a yawn instead.

Steve feels something warm settle painfully beneath his ribs at the sound.

Because this is the thing nobody really sees about him. Not the babysitter jokes or the stupidity or the pretending not to care.

Just this.

How badly Steve likes being safe for somebody.

How naturally he settles into taking care of the people he loves. How much he quietly craves these tiny domestic moments nobody else would even notice.

You shift sleepily against him again until your face ends up tucked properly into the crook of his neck.

“Feels nice,” you murmur eventually.

Steve glances down. “What does?”

“Your hands.”

The words come out so drowsy and sincere they nearly ruin him on the spot.

You don’t even realise what you’re doing to him.

Or maybe you do.

Because your eyes blink open slightly afterwards, finding his face in the dim orange light.

“You okay?”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Just think you might actually be trying to kill me.”

Your lips twitch sleepily. “Why?”

“Because you say stuff like that while lookin’ like this.”

“Like what?”

Steve gestures vaguely toward you.

Curled against his chest beneath a mountain of blankets. Sleep-heavy eyes. Hair completely messed up from his hands.

“…cute,” he finishes weakly.

You smile lazily at that.

Then immediately move even closer.

Which honestly feels a little unfair.

Steve’s fingers slow briefly in your hair as he watches your eyes drift shut again.

“You know,” you mumble eventually, voice already heavy with sleep, “I think this might genuinely be my favourite thing too.”

Something warm twists painfully through Steve’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nuzzle slightly against his throat. “Makes me feel safe.”

Oh, that one nearly takes him out completely.

Steve goes very still for a second before leaning down to press a slow kiss against your forehead.

His hand never leaves your hair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs quietly, pulling the blankets higher around your shoulders.

You make another sleepy little noise immediately, practically melting against him now.

Steve could probably stay exactly like this forever.

Especially when, less than five minutes later, your breathing finally evens out completely against his chest.

Dead asleep.

Again.

Steve looks down at you for a long moment before shaking his head quietly to himself, still combing gentle fingers through your hair.

“…this is definitely a superpower,” he murmurs.

You snore softly in response.

Steve grins so hard it almost hurts.

Twisting soft strands around his fingers. Scratching lightly against your scalp. Pushing hair back away from your face whenever it falls forward.

Steve likes touching you. This is not exactly new information.

What is new is the fact your voice suddenly cuts off halfway through a sentence.

Steve glances down.

You’re asleep.

Completely asleep.

Mouth slightly parted against his shoulder, breathing slow and even, one hand still loosely curled in the fabric of his t-shirt.

Steve blinks once.

“…seriously?”

You do not respond, mostly because you are unconscious.

Steve stares at you for another few seconds before looking down at his hand still buried in your hair.

Interesting.

The second time it happens, he starts suspecting a pattern.

You’re sitting between his legs on the floor of his bedroom while he half watches a movie over your shoulder and half messes with your hair mindlessly. You’d insisted you weren’t tired less than ten minutes earlier.

“You literally slept till eleven,” Steve reminds you while separating sections of your hair carefully.

“I know,” you mumble. “That’s why I’m not tired.”

“Hm.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You like me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Steve grins slightly to himself before dragging his nails lightly across your scalp again.

Your shoulders loosen immediately.

Another few minutes pass.

Then, nothing.

No response to his last comment. No movement either.

Steve leans slightly sideways to look at your face properly.

Dead asleep.

Again.

Still sitting upright between his legs.

Steve laughs so suddenly he nearly wakes you back up.

“Oh my god,” he mutters quietly.

By the fourth or fifth occurrence, it becomes less of a coincidence and more of a genuinely ridiculous amount of power for one person to hold.

Especially because Steve starts testing it.

Not maliciously.

Scientifically.

“You’re doing it on purpose now,” you mumble one afternoon, already sounding half asleep despite having argued thirty seconds earlier that you were “definitely awake.”

Steve, stretched out beside you on his bed, continues scratching softly through your hair with an expression of complete innocence.

“Doing what?”

“The hair thing.”

“What hair thing?”

“The…” You frown weakly. “The sleepy thing.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek hard trying not to laugh.

Because it really is absurd.

You could be fully awake, actively talking, even complaining about not being tired at all, and within ten minutes of Steve touching your hair for long enough you’re suddenly fighting for your life trying to keep your eyes open.

“You’re being dramatic,” he says.

You squint at him suspiciously through obvious exhaustion. “You’re evil.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re like…” Another yawn interrupts you completely. “Like a tranquiliser gun.”

Steve loses it completely at that.

You fall asleep less than five minutes later with your face squashed into his chest while he quietly laughs into your hair.

After that, it becomes sort of unavoidable.

Steve starts noticing all the tiny signs before you even realise you’re tired.

The slower blinking. The way your body gradually gets heavier against him. The increasingly delayed responses during conversations.

And every single time, without fail, the second his fingers slide into your hair properly, you melt.

On the couch.

In bed.

Once in the passenger seat of his car while he waited for Robin to come out of Family Video after locking up.

Another time at the Wheeler’s house with your head in his lap while everyone else argued loudly over a board game around you.

“You cannot be serious,” Dustin says, staring at your sleeping form in disbelief. “How does she keep doing that?”

Steve barely looks up from where he’s still lazily playing with your hair. “Doing what?”

“She was literally talking.”

“Yeah?”

“And now she’s unconscious.”

Steve shrugs like this is completely normal behaviour.

Robin narrows her eyes immediately from the opposite couch.

“Oh, this is definitely psychological.”

Steve scoffs. “What does that even mean?”

“She’s associated you with sleep now.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It absolutely is,” Robin says. “You Pavlov’d your girlfriend.”

“I did not Pavlov my girlfriend.”

“You basically turned yourself into a human melatonin gummy.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his hand never stops moving gently through your hair.

Mostly because Robin’s not entirely wrong.

There’s something about the trust of it that affects him more than he expects. The fact you fall asleep so easily against him. The way your whole body relaxes the second he touches you softly enough.

Like some part of you recognises him as safe before you even consciously think about it.

That part gets to him a little if he thinks about it too long.

Which is why he tries not to.

Unfortunately for him, you make this extremely difficult one rainy afternoon a few weeks later.

You’re both curled together in his bed while thunder rumbles softly outside, Steve lazily tracing shapes against your scalp while you blink sleepily up at him.

“You know,” you mumble eventually, “I think my body’s accidentally been trained.”

Steve grins immediately. “Finally admitting it?”

“This is your fault.”

“My fault you’re always sleepy?”

“My fault for trusting you enough to fall asleep this much.”

The smile slips slightly from Steve’s face at that.

You notice immediately, even half asleep.

“What?”

Steve looks down at you quietly for a second before shrugging one shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“Steve.”

His fingers slow slightly in your hair.

“It’s just…” He huffs softly through his nose. “I dunno. Kinda nice, I guess.”

Your expression softens immediately.

Because there it is.

The actual thing sitting underneath all the teasing.

Steve likes being trusted.

Likes being needed in these tiny quiet ways that nobody else really notices.

The way you automatically reach for his hand crossing roads. The way you sleep better beside him. The way you unconsciously move closer every time you’re tired.

You shift upwards slightly against his chest until you can kiss him properly.

Steve kisses you back slowly, one hand still tangled gently in your hair.

“I genuinely think this is my favourite thing.”

Your lips twitch.

“Me falling asleep?”

“No.” Steve smiles faintly. “You trusting me enough to.”

Something warm twists painfully through your chest.

You kiss him again before you can think too hard about it.

Steve’s fingers slide slowly through your hair once more afterwards, scratching lightly against your scalp in that familiar absentminded rhythm.

Dangerous.

You narrow your eyes immediately. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You know exactly what.”

Steve looks deeply unconvincing. “I’m just touching your hair.”

“You’re literally weaponising affection.”

Steve starts laughing quietly while you attempt to glare at him through increasingly heavy eyelids.

“You’re already falling asleep,” he says.

“No I’m not.”

“You just blinked for like six seconds.”

“That means nothing.”

Steve grins down at you, still gently combing his fingers through your hair.

“You’re done for, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to argue.

Then immediately yawn instead.

Steve looks so unbearably pleased with himself that you weakly shove at his chest in protest.

It does absolutely nothing.

Mostly because less than ten minutes later, you’re asleep against him again.

And Steve, unfortunately, looks far too happy about it.

part 2 here: [nap trap pt.2]

"i'm so glad you're staying over tonight stevie," you say after a fit of laughter, wiping a tear from your eye. you've arrived at your door. "i don't want this night to end."

"aww, me too, sweetheart. and to think earlier you said i was 'being presumptuous' for bringing my duffel bag" he teases, as he takes the key you hand him and lets you in.

"yeah, bold of you to assume i'd want to spend all night looking at this face," you squeeze his cheeks together playfully. "but you would be right." you skip over to your room as steve shakes his head with a laugh.

steve sits on your bed and unpacks your bag for you while you sit down at your vanity and put your hair up, about to remove your makeup. you start absentmindedly humming to yourself as you work the micellar water into your skin.

steve's been uncharacteristically quiet for a while. you find him in the mirror still on the edge of your bed behind you. he's looking at you like no one ever has before. his puppy dog eyes shine as he watches you, transfixed on your movements. a warm smile spreads across his face when he realises you're watching him back. you feel warmth bloom in your chest, as if the pure adoration with which he gazes at you goes straight to your heart.

you get up and cross the small space to reach him. his gaze doesn't falter even as you stand between his legs and drape your arms over his shoulders, and those big eyes look up at you.

"god, i love the way you look at me," you whisper, as you lean down and kiss him. steve plants his hands on your hips and gently squeezes the soft skin, before pulling away.

"alright. you get ready for bed, baby. let me know when you're done," he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose before getting up and heading for the living room.

"what a gentleman," you chuckle. you press one more kiss to his cheek before he closes the door.

you try not to delay in putting on your favourite pyjamas, and soon call out to steve.

"stevie, i'm done. you can come in now." you call, as you take your throw blanket off your bed.

"hope you didn't rush on my account," he says, stepping in with his duffel bag and setting it on your vanity seat.

"no, not at all. i'll be out here, alright?" you say as you open the patio door at the end of your bedroom and close it behind you, returning the privacy steve gave you.

you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and take a deep breath of the cool, fresh night air. one of your favourite things to do is step out on your balcony and look up at the stars, and tonight they looked particularly lovely.

your eyes adjust to the darkness and you notice why—a shooting star. so far east it's almost obstructed by the other buildings down your street, but brightly making its way across the sky. this was a first, but you decide that after the magical night you've had with your boyfriend, it was only fitting that the sky also bask in it.

you close your eyes and make a wish: i hope i never see what your face looks like going.

right then you then hear the patio door open, his gentle footfalls coming up behind you. you feel his arms around your waist holding you close to him, a kiss pressed to your forehead, and you turn to look up at him. even the sight of a shooting star cannot compare to the man in front of you. steve's face is tired from the day out, but relaxed. his hair seems to fall perfectly, as it always does. once again, his eyes drag over your face, taking in your features under the pale moonlight.

you reach up to gently run your fingers along his face. he instinctively leans into your touch, and his eyes close as he gets lost in the feeling. time seems to stand still. you run your fingertips, with a feather light touch, over his temples, his cheeks, down his nose, ever so slowly down his jaw, and finally you reach his lips. his eyes blink open at the sensation, looking down at your lips. you close the gap and press your lips to his.

he kisses you slowly, gently, barely moving his lips against yours, simply taking in the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. you sink into his arms a little more, inhaling his scent which envelops you. feeling the warmth of his arms around you, his steady breath fanning your face contrasting against the cool night air.

the kiss is not rushed. it's not even deep. it's the opposite—unhurried, dreamlike, and filled with utter bliss. steve hums contentedly into the kiss, as you move your hands to cradle his head.

you realise you need air in your lungs and reluctantly pull back a few centimeters. you open your eyes and the sight is nothing short of art. his pupils blown out so much you can barely see the hazel surrounding them. to your surprise, his cheeks have a warm red wash to them, something that doesn't happen often with steve. and that gaze is the exact same one from earlier.

in this moment, although no words are exchanged, in the silence of the night, looking into your boyfriend's eyes, you understand.

you could spend your whole life knowing the perfect face in front of you.