(djo’s version)

You realise you’ve forgotten where you are and snap back into reality. Steve sips your milkshake, oblivious. His cup drips condensation onto your warm fingers. 

You raise the straw to your lips and take a sip, trying not to think about how the straw has just been in Steve’s mouth. If you think about it too long, you’ll think about how it’s basically like you’re kissing Steve, and then you’ll be thinking about actually kissing Steve, and then— 

“Babe, you’re staring into space again.” 

You blink. Steve’s looking at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, an amused grin tugging at his pretty lips. 

“Sorry,” you say stupidly. 

Steve shakes his head. “What’re you sorry for? Is my milkshake really so bad that you had to zone out on me?” 

He’s teasing you. You hate him. You kick his leg with the tip of your shoe. 

“No,” you say, and you take another sip to prove your point. The cold liquid helps cool your warm chest. “I was just thinking.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “About?” 

Your eyes flick down to Steve’s mouth on their own accord. 

“None of your business,” you say quickly, before you can accidentally spill your guts at the mere sight of him. He tends to have that sort of effect on you. 

“None of my business?” Steve repeats, incredulous, pushing up in his seat until he’s face to face with you, your shoulders brushing. He grins, roguish and painfully handsome. “I’m your best friend, babe, we don’t keep secrets, remember?” 

He nudges your shoulder with his. You ignore the zing that shoots down your arm at the contact. 

“I’m not telling you,” you say. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “What? But we tell each other everything.” 

Not everything, you think. “What about that time you conveniently forgot to tell me you got us tickets to see Alien on opening night?” 

“That’s because it was a surprise.” 

“So? You still kept a secret.” 

“Oh my god, babe, that doesn’t count.” 

“Yes it does!” 

Steve groans, leaning back in his seat with his hand pressed to his eyes. You giggle. He’s easy to annoy, though you notice his tolerance for you is much higher than it is for Robin or Dustin. You wonder vaguely why that is. 

“Give me back my milkshake,” Steve demands suddenly. He sticks his hand out between you. “M’not sharing if you won’t tell me what you were thinking about.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a drama queen,” you say, though you hand his milkshake back anyway. “Why do you want to know so bad?” 

Steve doesn’t answer. Instead, he snatches his drink back and gives you yours. You watch him take the end of the straw, sticky with your lip gloss, in between his damp lips, and again, you’re reminded of the kissing thing. 

His lips stretch into a slow grin around his straw. Too late, you realise your mistake. 

“You’re looking at my mouth.” 

You look away so fast you almost snap your neck. “No I’m not.” 

“Uh, yeah you are,” Steve deadpans, poking you in the side with his fingers. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

You squirm away from his hand, suddenly breathless, though you’re unsure if it’s from his tickling or from your being caught. 

“No,” you say. 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“Oh, come on! I promise I won’t laugh.” 

“You will.” 

Steve puts his hands up like he’s surrendering, his cup half crushed in his strong grip. “No, I won’t. I swear it, honey.” 

It’s the ‘honey’ that gets you. Steve calls you a lot of things, but honey might be your favourite. You like the way it sounds on his lips. You like the way he looks at you when he says it. 

You sigh, setting your drink in the cupholder, and meet Steve’s eyes. 

“Promise?” You ask, defeated. 

Steve uses his free hand to draw a cross with his pointer finger over his chest. “Cross my heart, babe.” 

You study him for a long moment. You know deep down he won’t laugh, not when he’s just said he won’t — he never lies to you. Still, your heart pounds like a drum. 

“I was thinking about…” You let the word form on your lips and spill from your mouth before you can stop yourself, “Kissing?” 

Steve blinks. His mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. 

“Kissing?” He repeats back. The ghost of a grin pulls at his lips. 

You push the heels of your hands to your eyes before you can see him smile. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, Steve,” you whine. 

“I’m not!” He protests, but you can hear the grin in his voice. “I’m not, babe, I swear. I just…I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Your stomach twists in embarrassment. You wish the floor would swallow you up so you would never have to look Steve in the eye again.

Unfortunately, Steve has other plans. 

You hear him stick his drink in the second cupholder, and then his hands are on yours, fingers curling around your wrists. 

“Come out,” he says. He’s closer than you thought — you feel his warm breath on the back of your hand when he speaks. “Come on, I promise I’m not laughing. I want to talk to you.” 

Steve tugs at your wrists gently until you’re brave enough to let him pull them away completely. He’s abnormally close, leaning over the console so his face is mere inches from yours. He doesn’t let go of your wrists. 

“There she is,” he says, grinning lopsidedly. 

You try not to look as embarrassed as you are, but it’s hard when Steve’s looking at you like that. Like maybe you weren’t so silly to be thinking about kissing him after all. 

“Tell me why you were thinking about kissing,” Steve says in a low, gentle voice. You try to ignore the onslaught of butterflies it causes in your stomach. 

“I…well, it’s because we were sharing straws,” you manage to say, the words sticky in your throat like they’re begging you not to release them. 

Steve nods, thinking. His lips entice you, pushed into a thoughtful pout, swollen and pink. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” He asks, like it’s the most normal question ever. 

You let out a shaky breath. Your heart drums against your chest. “You know I haven’t.” 

“Didn’t you kiss Johnny M. in middle school?” 

“That doesn’t count, Steve,” you say, half-whispering now though you’re not sure why. “I haven’t…kissed anyone properly.” 

It’s embarrassing to admit, though you think Steve probably already knew as much. It’s worse that he has so much experience. He’s probably kissed twice the amount of girls you can count on both your hands, and you’ve never kissed anyone. 

You’ve only ever wanted to kiss one person. 

Steve adjusts his hands so he’s holding both of yours in his. “Well…do you want to kiss me?” 

You might be imagining it, but you’re pretty sure Steve’s looking directly at your lips. Dazed, you blink, your chest alight with nerves and something else, something much warmer. 

“Steve,” you say, unable to think of much else to say. “I— I don’t know how.” 

Steve shrugs one shoulder. “S’okay. Want me to teach you?” 

You just about go blind. Your palms suddenly feel way too sweaty. You steal your hands away from Steve’s under the pretense of tucking your hair behind your ears. 

“Um,” you hear yourself say. Your hands tremble minutely. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Steve dips his head closer, his dark eyes gentle and kind. “You want to?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek and then nod. “Yes. Please.” 

Something crosses Steve’s face. A warmth you’re familiar with, a kind, intense look he reserves only for you. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. 

Achingly slow, Steve sits up straight and reaches for your face. You follow suit, straightening up as he slots his hand under your jaw. His palm is warm, his fingers calloused but gentle. 

He pushes the tips of fingers behind your ear. 

“You ready?” 

You nod, scared that if you open your mouth you’ll tell him you don’t want this. 

You do want this. Very badly. 

Steve starts to lean in. Your heart pounds so hard it hurts. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. 

You screw your eyes shut. You feel Steve lean closer, inch by inch, until his lips ghost over yours. He’s almost kissing you but not quite, his nose bumping the side of yours.

His hot breath fans over your bottom lip and a shudder runs down your spine involuntarily. 

“Steve,” you whisper, and your lips brush his. 

Steve makes a strangled sort of sound from the back of his throat and a second later his lips are on yours, warm and damp, softer than you could’ve imagined. His hand cups the side of your neck, tugging you closer. He kisses you firmly, tasting of cherry. You don’t know what to do, whether to move your lips or not, so you stay very still, letting him kiss you how he wants, your lips tingling and your chest thrumming with warmth. 

When Steve pulls away, you’re breathless, though he can’t have been kissing you for more than twenty seconds. 

He stares at you and you stare right back. 

“How was that?” He asks in a raspy voice you’ve never heard him use before. 

“That was all?” You blurt without thinking. 

Steve’s mouth quirks up in a grin. “What? No way. I was just testing the waters. In case, you know….” His voice goes quiet, “You hated it or something.” 

Steve thumbs the corner of your mouth, pushing away a streak of sticky lipgloss from your skin. You feel so dizzy it’s almost disorienting. 

“I didn’t hate it,” you say, strained. “It was, um…can we do it again?” 

Steve’s grin grows, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “‘Course, babe. A real kiss this time?” 

You nod. You’re not sure what he could mean by a real kiss. You thought that was a real kiss. But maybe— 

Steve’s lips collide with yours with a force you’re not expecting. It steals all the breath out of your lungs, but your gasp is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth as he kisses you deeply. He’s still achingly gentle, but this kiss is different than the last, almost like he was holding back a few moments ago. 

His free hand finds your upper arm and he squeezes, thumb digging into your warm skin. His other hand curves around the back of your neck, fingers grazing the collar of your top. Your lips part a millimetre under his kissing, and then another, and then another. 

Just before he pulls away, you feel his tongue on your bottom lip for a fraction of a second. It sparks a heat in your gut that you didn’t think was possible until now, and you find yourself chasing the warmth of his lips as he moves away. 

Steve is breathless as you part, you twice as much. Your lips buzz with warmth. Slowly, you reach up to press your fingers to your bottom lip, wondering if you’re dreaming. 

Steve gives you a roguish grin. “Good?” 

You drop your hand and nod vehemently. “Yes. Yeah. Can you— do you think you could…”

You trail off, afraid of sounding silly, afraid of voicing what you really want. There’s no going back if you ask him. Still, you’ve gone this far, haven’t you?

“What, honey?” Steve asks, voice warm and hands warmer. His thumb draws circles into the skin of your upper arm. “Ask me.” 

Your heart races. Thud thud thud thud. 

“Could you teach me?” 

Steve tucks a rogue lock of hair behind your ear. “Teach you what, babe?” 

You swallow your nerves, let them settle in your stomach and blend with the butterflies already gathered there. It’s only Steve, you tell yourself. Just Steve. Your Steve. 

“Could you teach me how to kiss properly?” You ask quietly. “How to make out?” 

Steve blinks at you a few times. His thumb stutters in its movements on your arm.

“You want to learn how to make out?” He asks slowly. 

“Yeah,” you nod. Then, “You know, in case some guy asks me on a date sometime soon. I want to be prepared.” 

Steve looks mortified for a few seconds, his mouth parted slightly and the look in his eyes so distraught you almost feel bad. It takes him a second longer to realise you’re joking. The quirk of your mouth gives you away, probably. 

“You’re…oh my god.” Steve slumps forward, pressing his forehead to yours. He breathes heavily into the space between you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Baby.” 

You giggle. Feeling brave, you wrap your arm around him and push your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. Steve visibly shudders. 

“So?” You ask, fingers curling into his soft, thick hair. “Will you teach me?” 

Steve straightens up but doesn’t make the gap between you any bigger. Slowly, he brings his hand to your face and traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb. Your skin feels boiling hot in the wake of his touch. 

“Yeah, honey,” he says. “I’ll teach you.” 

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