laura

The first time you met Steve, you almost slapped him.

His reputation preceded him. Even your freshman year at Ohio State University, fresh out of rush week, you’d heard plenty about Sigma Chi pledge Steve Harrington. They were singing his praises from day one—he was handsome, a baseball genius, the life of any party. He commanded the attention of any room he stepped into. You were a little sick of him to begin with from how your Delta Gamma sisters wouldn’t shut up about him for two seconds even before that first party.

And when you walked into the Sigma Chi house for the first time, you didn’t even need to be told which one was the Harrington. The world gravitated around him like he was the sun itself, and he seemed to glow like it, too. He was handsome, devastatingly so. His smile was blinding. He had a stupidly good head of hair, gorgeous sun-kissed skin dotted with moles like constellations, and big hazel eyes that made him look deceptively sweet.

You’d met eyes from across the room, and at the time, it had felt like something clicking into place. Two puzzle pieces who had finally found where they belonged. Your breath hitched as he left the group he was talking to and sauntered over, that brilliant smile now directed specifically at you and you alone. Your heart had felt like it might burst from your chest.

“Oh my god,” one of your sisters, Margot, had said, grabbing onto your arm. “He’s coming over here.”

He didn’t even glance at her. He only looked at you. He wore a polo with jeans that fit him just right, a red plastic cup clutched in his large hand. When he reached you, you could smell his cologne, something intoxicating that made your head spin. He really was everything everyone had promised.

And then he opened his mouth.

“Hi,” he’d said, extending a hand towards you. “I’m Steve. And you are fucking beautiful.”

Embarrassingly, you’d giggled like a total fool, given him your hand, and introduced yourself. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

He’d actually taken your hand and kissed your knuckles, like the prince he absolutely saw himself as. And then, that suave grin turned into something more like a cocky smirk, a look you’d grow to know and loathe. “You know, you look like a girl who deserves the very best,” he’d said. “And, wouldn’t you know it—by sheer coincidence, you’re looking at the best this frat has to offer.”

Okay, a little eye roll worthy, but that wasn’t abnormal for these frat guys. You’d raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what could you possibly offer me?”

His smirk had widened, and he moved in, grabbing you by the hip and pulling you against him. “Oh, things beyond your wildest dreams, baby,” he’d murmured, even as you gasped at the sheer audacity of this guy. “Why don’t we go up to my room and I can show you?”

You’d shoved him back by his chest, making him stumble, the beer in his cup sloshing over the sides and onto his light blue shirt. “You’re a fucking perv.”

Steve’s expression had immediately transformed into something harder, all traces of the charming smile from moments ago completely erased. “What the fuck?”

“You don’t get to just walk up and touch me. I don’t even know you.” You’d scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Does that actually work for you?”

“Yeah, actually,” he’d said, looking at you with pure distaste now. “With girls who aren’t an uptight cocktease.”

You’d laughed, but only in an attempt to keep yourself from punching this guy square in the jaw. “Oh, wow. Fuck you.”

“Fuck me, huh?” he’d said, that stupid smirk back in place. “You know, that’s a good idea, maybe it would help if I got that stick out of your ass and gave you something else—“

“Oh-kay, let’s go get a drink!” Margot had said, dragging you away before you could land the slap you were winding up. You heard him laughing behind you, the sound loud and infuriating.

“See you around, baby!” he’d called after you. Margot just dug her fingers into your arm, pulling you to a completely different part of the house as fast as she could.

Things with Steve did not improve after that. And, unfortunately for you, you couldn’t escape him. He was everywhere you turned. Not only the golden boy on campus—his photo was used on any and all promotions for the championship winning baseball team—but, soon, also the president of Sigma Chi. And your houses went hand in hand.

Every party you went to, Steve was there, holding court among his adoring subjects. The guys on campus thought he was the coolest guy who ever lived, and the girls were practically stepping over each other for a chance with him. You attempted to keep your distance, but Steve loved annoying you more than he loved the girls begging to go up to his bedroom.

Delta Gamma also partnered with Sigma Chi for just about everything. As the top houses, it was just a given. Every event, every fundraiser, every charity event and mixer and rager. As much as you adored everything about your sorority and had always felt like you’d made the wrong choice, Steve was the one thing that made you question it.

It was no secret, either. Everyone knew you and Steve hated each other. Steve’s frat brothers found it hilarious, while your sisters tried their best to keep you away from each other. You just couldn’t get along—being in each other’s space for too long always ended in disaster. A loud argument, heated insults, or sometimes even a thrown drink, if Steve was feeling extra mouthy that night. You were best kept far away from one another.

You’d grown close with another girl who’d pledged Delta Gamma, Nancy. Nancy was sweet and smart and although you loved all your sisters, you’d clicked with her immediately. Nancy also happened to know Steve well. They’d grown up together, even dated briefly in high school.

“Steve is an asshole,” Nancy had told you, confirming everything you already thought. “Seriously, don’t let him try to charm you. He’s full of it.”

It kind of seemed like you and Nancy were the only ones who saw it, though. Of course there were the girls he’d already scorned, but the vast majority of the Ohio State female student population were head over heels for Steve Harrington. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time you saw it.

That would never be you.

Your junior year had just begun, and by the end of September, homecoming season was well underway. Sigma Chi had already partnered with Delta Gamma, a surprise to no one.

What was a surprise was that you had a chance at being crowned queen this year. Homecoming court was something you’d never given much thought to. Your attention was already divided in so many directions—between your classes and honor society, track, event planning and sorority obligations with being Social Chair, and being a TA for the first time this year, you were booked and busy. The crown was the least of your concern. Even now, you didn’t stress about it. Everyone knew your chapter president, Lindsey, would be taking the crown anyway.

The week of homecoming itself was always busy and filled with excitement—stuffed full of events and activities, a good chunk of which you had a hand in planning. But still, courting had begun, and Tommy Hagan had been going all out to catch your attention.

It started with a bouquet of flowers so huge you had to divide them up into three different vases just to display them in a way that didn’t look ridiculous. Then, it was the food. Fruit baskets, a mini cake, so much of your favorite candy and chocolate you had to beg your sisters to eat some of it. The day you walked out of the house to the entire OSU choir serenading you on the front lawn, you’d been utterly speechless.

Tommy was nice enough, you guessed. If you had to partner with someone, he wasn’t the worst choice. That would be Steve Harrington, who, by expectations alone—because Steve didn’t put much effort into anything that wasn’t baseball or getting his dick wet—was courting Lindsey. He didn’t even have to try and he knew it.

There was a new gift or grand gesture from Tommy daily, while Steve had sent a single box of milk chocolates, a half dozen and definitely the cheapest on the shelf even though everyone knew the Harringtons were absolutely loaded—and Lindsey was allergic to dairy. You could tell she was annoyed about it, but she was going to partner with Steve regardless. Every time you brought another elaborate gift into the house, the look she gave you was cold and cutting. It was…awkward.

At least for now, you could push thoughts of homecoming from your brain. It was Saturday night, and you were ready to have some fun. Or at least try to, because you were about to walk right into King Steve’s kingdom.

You’d think you would have gotten used to his presence by now, but he never got any less annoying. It’s not like you could just skip every party. Everyone knew Sigma Chi threw the best parties of any frat on campus. Were you just not supposed to go because the president was a total pain in the ass? You could kiss your social status goodbye real fast.

Sometimes you’d get lucky and wouldn’t see him at all the whole night. Maybe just a flash of his stupid hair, or the sound of his laugh from another room. A glimpse at his cocky smirk as he led some poor girl up to his room. And other nights, he seemed hell bent on annoying you as much as possible.

You really, really hoped for the former tonight. You walked into the house with Nancy and Margot, the bass already thumping, the place overrun with college students in various states of intoxication. You looked good, you knew you did. Tiny skirt that showed off your legs, a top that displayed just enough chest to have guys staring every time they walked past. Not that that was hard.

“Do you want me to get us drinks?” Nancy asked, leaning over to yell over the music right in your ear. You nodded, and she gave you a soft smile before pushing her way through to the kitchen.

There was no sign of Steve so far, which you hoped was a good omen. Your eyes scanned the room, mostly familiar faces, but a decent amount of freshmen you hadn’t gotten to know well yet were there, too.

Nancy was back quickly, walking through the crowd holding the two red cups up high in an attempt to not spill them or get anything on her white blouse. She let out a sigh of relief when she finally reached you, handing you a drink.

“It’s a total madhouse in there,” she said. “Like, more than usual.”

“How many new pledges are there this year?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer. You linked hands with Nancy and began pushing through to the living room. You eventually found a place to stand against the wall, surveying the rest of the party.

“I have no idea,” she said. Her curls were pulled back on top with a bow, and she held her drink between both delicate hands. “It’s gotta be more than last year, right?”

It certainly seemed like it. The Sigma Chi parties were always intense, but it felt like you could barely move. “With Harrington in charge this year, who knows.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “God, I know. When I heard he was president, I almost thought about dropping out.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking another sip of your beer. “At least in two more years, I’ll never have to see him again.”

“Lucky you,” Nancy grumbled. “I’m sure I’ll always be seeing him at some point when I’m back in Hawkins for holidays. It’s like I can’t escape him.”

The sound of your name being called caught your attention. You looked around, looking for the source—and saw Tommy Hagan on his way over, hand held up in a wave and a bright smile on his freckled face.

“Here comes your loverboy,” Nancy mumbled into her cup, looking away like she was minding her own business.

“Hey,” Tommy said as he reached you. He wasn’t as bad as Steve, but they were best friends and looked like they could have shared a wardrobe. He wore a dark red polo and jeans, one hand now in his pocket and the other holding his own drink. “Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smiled politely. “Um, thanks for the flowers this morning. Blue this time, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, his smile somewhat sheepish as he ran a hand through his short hair. “I was thinking, like, a different bouquet for every color of the rainbow, or something.”

You nodded, eyebrows raised. “Ooh, yeah. I see the vision.”

A soft blush colored the pale skin on his cheeks. “Did you like them?”

He was being so sweet, you couldn’t help but soften. You weren’t interested in Tommy romantically, but you were happy to partner with him if that’s what he wanted. “They were beautiful. Seriously.” His eyes lit up, and at the fear of yet another bouquet to make your bedroom look even more like a greenhouse, you added, “But I am starting to run out of room to put vases.”

Tommy laughed softly, looking down at the floor. “Yeah. Maybe I should try to get creative.”

A shout came from the sliding glass back door, drawing all of your attention behind him. “Hagan! Come out here and show the new brothers how a keg stand is done!”

Tommy turned back to you. “Sorry. Duty calls, I guess,” he said, although he didn’t look all that sorry. Sigma Chi took their keg stands very seriously. “I’ll catch you around later though, yeah? You’re not planning to turn in early or anything?”

“I’ll be here,” you confirmed, drinking from your cup again. “Go show ‘em, Hagan.”

His grin only widened. “See you later, beautiful.”

You watched him go, laughing softly as he immediately switched gears from gentleman to frat bro the second he reached the back door.

“Please let him be done with the bouquets,” Nancy said as soon as he was gone, done acting like she hadn’t been paying attention the whole time. “I’ve already got half of the flowers in my room.”

The party went on, and eventually you lost Nancy to the crowd. She’d started seeing this guy a few weeks ago, Vance, a transfer student who had her totally smitten like you’d never seen before. While Nancy had always been your partner at these parties—more like your shield from Steve Harrington—she’d started wanting to spend more time with Vance, and who were you to stop her?

It wasn’t until later in the night, when you were leaning against the wall with yet another drink, that you finally saw him. Or heard him, rather, because his obnoxious loud voice and laugh usually entered a room before he did. At least he had a warning bell, you thought.

When Steve entered the living room with his friends, telling some story that was definitely not funny enough to warrant how hard they were laughing, you thought about making a run for it. But then his eyes locked with yours from across the room, and he shot you that stupid fucking smirk that made you irritated immediately. And he knew it.

He stared at you even while he kept talking to his friends, and you stared back. He liked to do these little power plays. Even the women around him weren’t drawing his attention away. And finally, much to your disappointment, he turned away long enough to excuse himself before walking straight for you.

You really regretted not making your escape while you had the chance.

Steve greeted you by your last name, something none of the other guys did, since they cared about actually impressing you. “How sweet of you to grace my house with your presence. I almost didn’t expect you to show.”

You scoffed. “Just because you’re president this year doesn’t mean you’re special—“

“Actually, it does,” he smirked. “This is my kingdom, baby.” He held his arms out, as if the opulent house crammed full of sweaty, drunk college students was supposed to impress you. “And you’re talking to the king.”

You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder if you tried. “Do you even hear yourself when you talk? It’s like everything you say comes from the official douchebag handbook.”

His smirk only widened. “Maybe it does. Maybe I even wrote it.”

“Steve, I’m not even sure you can read.” You shook your head, looking off to the side, searching for any lifeline out of this conversation with your least favorite person on earth. “Why are you over here bothering me, anyway? Don’t you have some poor girl to flatter long enough to get in her pants?”

“I’d much rather get under that skirt,” he quipped. When your head snapped back in his direction, eyes practically glowing with the fire behind them and the promise of pouring your drink all over his dark blue shirt and stupid khakis, he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay,” he laughed. “I came over because you looked fucking miserable. Why do you always look so bored? You’re at a party.”

“I’m not bored,” you retorted simply.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, leaning a hand against the wall next to you. “You look pissed off to even be here.”

“That’s because you’re talking to me.”

Steve laughed, which was maybe your least favorite sound in the world. “Every time I see you here, you look bored. Like you think you’re too good to even be here.”

“Well, unfortunately, Sigma Chi has the most annoying guy possible as their president, so…” you trailed off, a hand on your hip. You took a sip from your beer again, but you would need a lot more alcohol to make Steve’s presence bearable.

He hummed, as if he were considering it. “I don’t know. I think you feel like you’re above all this.” He gestured around the room. “Why would you join a sorority if you hate parties so bad?”

“I don’t hate parties,” you argued. And it was true—you didn’t. You could have plenty of fun at a party. You were Social Chair.

“Well, whatever it is, you’re bringing down the mood,” he said. He downed the rest of his own drink, sitting the empty plastic cup on the mantel, where it would surely sit until some poor pledges were tasked with cleaning the whole place tomorrow.

“I don’t think anyone cares what I’m doing,” you muttered. “Other than you, for some fucking reason.”

Steve grinned again. “I know what you need.”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “Is it for you to leave me alone and never speak to me again? Because I could agree with that.”

“You need to get high.”

That made you pause. “What?”

His smile grew. “I think you need to loosen up. Like, a lot.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the staircase. “I could roll us a joint. I wanted to go smoke anyway.”

You just blinked at him. “You’re—“ You were genuinely stunned. “You’re inviting me to go up to your room and smoke? This isn’t, like, some weird attempt to have sex, right? Because that is never gonna happen—“

“No, Jesus,” he laughed. “I just think you need to stop being so damn uptight for once. It would help, believe me.”

“I’ve smoked before, I’m not some prude,” you mumbled, because you knew that’s exactly what Steve saw you as. “If you’re offering, why can’t you just, like…roll me one and bring it back down here?”

“I keep the good shit hidden in my room,” he shrugged. “Otherwise, these assholes would steal it all. They don’t need to know about it.”

You hesitated, because no matter how badly you wanted to accept the invitation for some free weed, it came with a worse cost—spending time one on one with Steve Harrington. He looked at you expectantly while you looked around the room, biting the inside of your cheek as you fought with yourself over it.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But we smoke, and then I’m coming right back down here and finding Nancy.”

“Deal,” he smirked. “At least you’ll be more fun. We have a reputation here, you know.”

You rolled your eyes yet again as he turned, leading the way back to the staircase. The crowd always seemed to part for Steve like he was true royalty, a deep seated respect that you personally would never understand. Your eyes darted around to every face you passed, absolutely mortified at the idea of someone seeing you following him upstairs, but no one seemed to notice.

The polished wood of the banister was smooth beneath your palm as you followed. You’d never even been up these stairs at all, the second floor a total mystery you had never been too eager to uncover. Steve’s shoes thudded against the shining hardwood floors, passing room after room occupied with couples, some of them not even bothering to close the door all the way. You scrunched your face up in disgust at one particularly shameless makeout session with the bedroom door wide open.

Steve reached a room at the end of the hall, turning to look at you over his shoulder before turning the doorknob, as if it were some grand reveal. You had to admit—only to yourself—but you were a little curious about what waited on the other side.

You trailed into the room behind him, closing the door behind you. You looked around as Steve kneeled by his bed, pulling out a shoebox. The bedroom was neat, bed made, clothes put away besides the ones piled in the laundry hamper. There was a desk with a lamp, soft light shining over a mess of papers and textbooks. His dresser was cluttered with hair products and a few bottles of expensive cologne. There were a few posters tacked to the walls, mostly sports related, a few of scantily clad women, and the year’s OSU baseball schedule. He had a bookshelf against one wall, holding his textbooks and a staggering amount of baseball trophies. A framed team photo sat on one shelf, along with one of all the Sigs taken at the beginning of the semester.

“Having fun?” Steve asked, making you jump slightly as you turned to look at him. He was sitting on his bed now, the shoebox open next to him. He was smiling at you as his fingers worked dexterously to roll the joint. “Didn’t know you could be so nosy.”

You scoffed, but your cheeks felt a little hot. “Shouldn’t have stuff sitting out if you don’t want people to look at it.”

He laughed. “You can look at whatever you want.” He licked along the seam of the joint, perfectly rolled. “Go ahead and search the whole room, if you want. The porn mags are in that drawer.” He nodded towards his nightstand.

You scrunched your face up. “Ew. You’re so gross.”

Steve laughed again as he put his baggie of weed and papers back in the box, pushing it beneath his bed again. You took a seat on the plush carpet, back leaning against his dresser. He placed a muscular arm on the end of the bed frame and lowered himself to the floor to sit across from you.

“You can do the honors if you want,” he offered, holding the joint out towards you.

There was a moment of hesitation before you reached forward, taking it from his fingers. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me,” you said, brows furrowed even as you placed the joint between your lips, flicking the lighter and holding the flame to the end.

“I’m not being nice to you,” he said. He still had that same look he always had when he looked at you, like it was one of his life’s greatest joys to piss you off, to get you worked up and upset. “Like I said, you’re ruining my party. Can’t have word spreading around campus that people are here looking bored. Sigs are the party kings of campus, and that’s not changing, especially not with me in charge.”

“Oh, right,” you said, exhaling that first cloud of smoke. “The new ruler can’t appear weak, and all that.”

“Exactly,” he smirked. He watched you take another hit, then leaned forward, accepting the joint back from you and taking a long pull himself.

“I don’t think anyone pays as much attention to me as you do, Steve,” you said. That warm feeling was starting to settle over you, and he was right—you were relaxing already. It was the first time you’d been in a room with him and didn’t want to scream or punch him.

His gaze was heavy on you as he hit the joint, looking at you with that intensity he always seemed to hold when you were in a room together. But now it was making you fidget, the room suddenly feeling hot.

“Who says I pay attention to you?” he finally asked. His voice was lower now, and when he leaned forward to pass the joint back to you, your fingers brushed together. It sent a jolt through your body, and you jerked your hand back quickly, bringing it to your lips to give yourself time to think before you spoke again.

“It’s kind of obvious.” Smoke billowed from your lips as you responded. The room was growing thick with it, a haze surrounding you both in and outside of your head. “Always staring at me, coming over just to annoy me…”

“It’s fun,” he admitted, laughing softly. He ran a hand through his hair, starting to lose its shape and flop into his wide hazel eyes. “Every time you get mad, you get that cute little furrow between your eyebrows, your lips get all pouty, and you roll your eyes about a million times.”

You paused—and then giggled, leaning forward to pass the joint back. “Seriously? I told you, you pay attention to me.”

Your laughter was starting to get Steve going too. He took another pull. “I mean, I notice things that are nice to look at. I’m only a man, after all.”

The laughter felt like something you could no longer control, bubbling up in your chest and filling Steve’s bedroom much like the smoke in the air. It was contagious, the two of you laughing together as you finished off the joint.

“You know you always say the cheesiest stuff possible,” you giggled, your body fully relaxed into the floor at this point. Your limbs felt heavy in the best way, like every bit of tension in your muscles had faded. “It’s kind of amazing how everyone thinks you’re so cool, because you’re kind of a total dork.”

Steve laughed hard, his head tilting back. You couldn’t help but notice the strong column of his throat, the way the muscles flexed in his neck and chest. “I have to get creative,” he said, fixing his eyes back on yours once again. “I aim to keep you entertained, after all.”

“I guess you do,” you smiled. “Annoyed, yes. Bored? Never.”

He watched you for a minute, something thoughtful seeming to cross his face. Your eyes locked in that way they often did, just staring. Seeing each other. Steve always had a way of making you feel like he could see right through you, and it made you wonder if he felt the same about you, too.

The fact that you were enjoying Steve’s company seemed to strike you all at once. It was confusing—maybe concerning—but for now, you were too high to care. He’d been right. This was what you needed.

Steve nudged your foot with his own. “I’ve never seen you look so peaceful,” he grinned. “Who knew there was more to you than being stuck up and…snobby.”

You snorted a laugh. “Fuck you, Harrington.”

The grin on his face grew. “Oh, would that help you relax some more?” he said, looking a little too proud of himself. “Because I’d be happy to help you with that, too.”

Your eyes widened, and Steve was pretty sure you were about to tell him off again—but then you tossed your head back, laughing harder than he’d ever heard from you. “Oh my god. In your dreams.”

Steve smirked, that same look you’d grown to know as cocky and insufferable, but right now, you didn’t seem to mind it. It was endearing, almost. Handsome, maybe. “Baby, you let me fuck you, and you’ll be dreaming about it for months.”

It’s like everything he said, every stupid, corny line that would usually have you irritated, was suddenly the funniest thing you’d ever heard. “You really think you’re god’s gift to women, huh?”

“I know I am.” He tilted his head to the side, body relaxed as he leaned back against his bed frame. “Never heard a single complaint.”

“That’s because girls know how to fake it,” you mumbled. “Guys can never tell.”

“Oh, I can tell.” His hands flexed where they rested on his thighs, the veins beneath his skin suddenly extremely distracting. “Some guys can’t, sure. But I know the difference between some fake pornstar moans to boost some pathetic dude’s ego, and how it really feels to make a girl fall apart.”

Your cheeks felt hot now. Your whole body did, even though your outfit didn’t cover much skin. “You’re not that good in bed.”

“How would you know?” he asked, looking at you with genuine curiosity and something like delight.

“I can just tell,” you answered quickly, looking down at the soft beige carpet beneath your bare thighs. “Guys never care about making girls feel good. Just themselves.” That’s how it had been with every guy you’d ever slept with. Not a single one had been different.

“I’m not other guys,” Steve said, voice lower now. It made your breath hitch in your throat, slowly raising your head to look at him. He was still smiling at you, but there was something different behind his eyes now, something heavy and burning.

You returned his smile, laughing softly even as you felt your heart speed up in your chest. “Yeah, well. I don’t think any guy is different in that department.”

“You wanna bet?”

That almost earned him another eye roll (playful this time, but still)—until he shifted, moving over to sit next to you. You tensed as you felt his shoulder brush against yours, feeling both electricity and heat even through the fabric of your clothes.

“Steve…”

His large hand came up slowly. Now he was looking at you in a way you’d never seen from him before. The familiar cocky smirk was gone, his soft lips parted slightly as his eyes raked over every part of you like he wanted to memorize the way you looked right now. Your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths, watching his intense gaze travel slowly, taking his time. From your eyes, to your lips, down your throat. Lower, to your chest, but not in the pervy way he’d done in the past. No, it wasn’t that—it was…reverent. Like he was seeing something holy.

His hand finally moved, brushing your hair back softly. It made you draw in a sharp breath, chills spreading across the skin of your neck where he’d made contact.

“I like you like this,” he said, voice low and quiet. His eyes were locked on the side of your neck, where he’d just touched.

It took you a second to find your voice, although it came out more like a whisper. “Like…what?”

“Happy,” he said. His gaze finally moved to your eyes. “Comfortable. Real.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “You know, you’re really pretty when you smile like that.”

You were pretty sure you had to be dreaming, because in no world were you sitting in Steve’s bedroom while he looked at you like that. Like he wanted to kiss you. Like he was actually moving in, leaning in slowly to close the distance as if giving you all the chance in the world to run away—

You didn’t. Your eyes fell closed and then, with the force of a meteor crashing into the earth despite how soft and gentle it was, his lips met yours. His hand rested against the side of your neck while yours moved up to grip onto his bicep. He tilted his head slightly and your lips slotted together perfectly, moving together with a practiced kind of confidence and a sense of rightness you never should have felt with Steve Harrington ever.

There was no time to think with the way he was kissing you, slow and deep but utterly consuming. It was careful at first, exploratory. It felt so good, your lips moving with his like it was second nature. Steve was a good kisser. You knew he had plenty of experience, and it’s not like you didn’t, but he was taking the lead and you were happy to let him.

His tongue traced along your bottom lip, and you parted your lips on instinct. His tongue met yours with a soft groan that had you digging your nails into his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him closer.

Steve laid you back on the soft carpet with way more care than you’d ever seen him show anything. He braced himself on a strong arm planted next to your head, never breaking the kiss for a single second. His body hovered over yours, one knee moving between your thighs where your skirt had fallen up around your waist, pressing against you through your panties. His free hand rested on your hip now, holding onto you. You let out a soft moan against his lips, delirious from every point of contact, rocking your hips down against his leg to feel that friction you craved so desperately.

He groaned, moving from your mouth to kiss across your jaw, down to your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin, giving you chills. Your breaths were coming in hard and heavy now, holding onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline, eyes closed as you felt every sensation he provided.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your neck, grinding his knee against you to meet every needy movement. He nipped lightly at the sensitive spot below your ear. You could feel his smirk against your skin when you gasped, hips bucking against him in response. It made no sense how he knew exactly what to do, like he somehow knew your body better than you did.

“Steve…” you whimpered, the only word your brain could conjure.

“That’s it, baby,” he said. His breath was hot against your skin, sucking at your neck, biting then soothing the sting with his tongue. “Let me hear you. Gonna make you feel so good.” 

The hand on your hip slowly slid up the smooth skin of your side, rucking your shirt up. You sat up long enough to help him pull it off completely, leaving you in the lacy bra you wore beneath. He wasted no time lowering his head to mouth at the top of your breasts, practically burying his face in them, kissing and sucking and biting at the exposed skin.

“Always had the best fucking tits,” he moaned, losing himself in a way you could only describe as worshipful. He reached behind you to unhook your bra easily, pulling it away and tossing it to the side. He pulled back to look down at your body, the look in his eyes one of pure hunger. “Actually insane fuckin’ pair, Jesus Christ.”

You laughed, because yeah, there was the Steve you knew. That laugh turned into a gasp, then a moan, when he leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you gasped, hands shooting up to tangle in his hair. “Oh my god—“

He swirled his tongue around the stiff peak, groaning as he sucked on it. He grabbed the other, massaging your breast in his large hand, slightly calloused from years of pitching. The friction on your sensitive, hardened nipple was maddening, back arching and pushing your tits further into his face.

He never let up with the movements against your soaked cunt, either, even as he switched back and forth between your tits. Your clit was swollen and throbbing and begging for more, and you were pretty sure your panties were utterly ruined. You could feel the pleasure building in your core with an intensity that felt like it would completely take your breath away.

You’d never had a guy make you cum in your life, and now Steve Harrington was about to do it in five minutes, fully clothed, with his fucking thigh?

Steve could sense the tension coiling in your body—and he pulled away, taking away every delicious ounce of pleasure he’d been building.

Your eyes opened, still heavy lidded and hazy. “What—?”

“My bed,” he said, and you noticed he was breathing hard, too. “Not gonna fuck you for the first time on the floor.”

You didn’t give yourself time to think about his words. He helped you up, then pulled you into another frantic kiss as you both shed clothes as fast as you could with your lips still attached, utterly desperate for each other.

Steve’s mattress creaked softly as you fell back onto it, now in nothing but your panties. You moved back towards his pillows, leaning up on your elbows as you watched him.

God, he looked good with his shirt off, you absolutely hated to admit. He had thick hair covering his chest, which was muscular and strong, but his stomach was still a little soft. His skin was sun-kissed, those moles dotting his body all over. The desire to kiss every single one of them surged suddenly within you, but you pushed the thought away. That was…intimate.

His gaze remained heavy on you as he worked his belt open without drawing away his attention once. The way he looked at you was like a starving man preparing for a feast. Your thighs were slightly parted, and he didn’t miss how damp your panties were. For him.

Finally down to his boxer briefs alone, you could see more of him than you ever had before. He was fully hard, the outline of his dick visible as it strained against the thin, snug material.

And the rumors were true.

“Jesus,” you breathed. That cocky smirk returned to his face as he watched your wide-eyed stare. Truthfully, he was used to that reaction. “You’re…”

“I know, baby,” he purred, crawling onto the bed over you. He leaned down, peppering kisses along your legs as he moved higher along your body. “It’ll fit. I’ll be careful. ‘m gonna take care of you like you deserve.”

It felt like you were melting into the soft sheets and comforter surrounding you. Steve was taking his time, placing hot, open mouthed kisses against your calf, his hand roaming up the other leg in time with his mouth. He rose higher, over your knee, up the inside of your thigh.

He laid on his stomach between your legs, kissing and nipping all along the sensitive skin of both inner thighs. Your legs trembled. The sight of him there, with his mouth all over you, was almost too overwhelming to even take in. Your head dropped against his pillows, just giving in to his every desire, your body coming alive with every touch. Trusting him.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathed in pure admiration. His nose nuzzled against your core through the thin material, and you drew in a sharp gasp. He looked up at you from between your legs, fingers moving to dip beneath the waistband of your panties. “Has anyone ever tasted you before?”

You froze as you realized what he was asking you, what he was planning to do. By the time you found your words, he’d already slipped the delicate material down and off your body. You shuddered as you felt his breath against your pussy, cool against the wetness there, for him.

“I—“ You jolted when you felt him rub his nose against your folds, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you. Your whole body was flushed and hot. “…No.”

Steve groaned. The idea of being the first to pleasure you like this had his cock throbbing between his body and the mattress. “Fuckin’ idiots,” he grumbled, drinking in the sight of you for a little longer before he finally moved in, dragging his tongue against your cunt, moaning like he’d never tasted anything better. “You have the perfect fuckin’ pussy. Tastes so sweet.”

Your hips jerked against his mouth, crying out at that first unfamiliar contact. You heard his low chuckle, but there was no humor behind it, just pure want. He dove in, devouring you properly.

The feeling of his tongue against you was more intense than you’d anticipated. Your fingers tangled in his perfect hair, making a mess of it, pulling just hard enough to earn a groan from his chest that vibrated against your clit. You were nearly seeing stars already, hips rocking up against his mouth as he flicked his tongue against the swollen nub, sucking gently before moving down to your hole. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was pulling you apart piece by piece until you could hardly stand it.

You’d heard of this before, of course you had. Your sorority sisters had mentioned it a few times, and you’d seen it in that trashy porno you, Nancy, and Carol had spent the night giggling at after sharing a joint and some vodka crans. But you always thought of it as a myth. No man you’d ever been with had even offered, even if you’d gone down on him first. You figured it was something guys just didn’t do, or at least something they didn’t want to do.

Not Steve, apparently, because he was worshipping you like he could have spent hours with his face buried between your legs. His skilled tongue worked against you in all the right ways, moaning against you and grinding his hips against the bed, even harder if you tugged on his hair, which you were quickly learning he liked.

“Steve—“ you gasped, body writhing and arching beneath him. “Oh my god, I—-“

“That’s it,” he praised, pulling away from you just long enough to speak, eyes glazed and lips and chin shining with your wetness, before diving in again. “Doing so good for me, sweetheart. You’re so fucking hot.”

You whimpered when you felt his thick finger pressing against your entrance, moaning as he pushed inside while his mouth focused on your clit again. With how wet you were, he slid inside easily, fucking you before quickly adding a second finger. He curled them deep inside, pressing against something that nearly had you screaming his name loud enough for the whole party to hear.

“Steve!” you gasped, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other gripped onto the pillow, feeling like you would actually float away if you didn’t hold on. The pleasure he was giving you was nearly overwhelming, your body beginning to tremble harder as that coil tightened again, faster and more intense this time. He slipped in a third, fucking you deep, stretching you around his thick fingers.

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he panted, dragging his tongue through your folds one more time just to taste you. “Fuck. You’re so good, gonna take me so well, every fuckin’ inch, I know you will. Gonna stretch so perfectly around my cock.”

A whine crawled its way from your throat, hips rocking against his fingers as he fucked you deep with them, pressing against that bundle of nerves that had you losing your mind. “Steve…Steve…oh fuck, I’m—“

He didn’t let up with his fingers for a single second. But it was when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking, while his fingers thrusted in hard and deep, that made it finally snap.

Your vision went white, your body tensing and mouth dropping open in a scream that was silent at first, before you let out what were probably the most pornstar-worthy sounds you’d ever made in your life. “Steve! Oh, fuck!”

Steve groaned at the sound, lapping up every bit of you, letting you grind your pussy against his tongue and working you through every shuddering aftershock until your body went limp beneath him. When he finally pulled back, you fully expected him to look up at you with that look he almost always wore, the one that made him look so proud of himself, so punchable. But instead he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before sucking his fingers clean greedily, looking down at your body with that same heated, wanting expression.

He sat up on his knees. You didn’t think it was possible before but he was even harder now, a wet spot on his boxers at the tip of his cock where he’d been absolutely dripping for you. His thumbs hooked into the waistband, pushing down just enough for you to get a glimpse of the hair that disappeared below.

“You ready for me?” he asked, voice a low rumble.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with wide eyes. “…Yeah.”

Steve smirked down at you and pushed the material down in one go. His cock sprung free—and it was even more impressive than it looked before. He was thick and long, a slight right curve, vein prominent along the underside. His tip was flushed red like he was real desperate, and glistening from the precum he’d been leaking the whole time he was taking care of you. Another drop was beading at his slit. You’d never had a man look like he wanted you this bad.

You knew you were staring, and Steve certainly saw it, too. “See something you like, baby?”

You let out a breathless laugh, but truthfully, you were in no position to crack a joke or even deny it. You simply watched as he shed the last bit of clothing completely, leaving you both completely bare in his bed.

He leaned over you and reached to open the bedside drawer. There really were porn mags in there, which might have made you laugh if you couldn’t feel that thick length twitching against your thigh. He grabbed a condom and shoved the drawer closed, sitting back up on his knees. He ripped the foil packet open with his teeth and rolled it onto his cock.

When he leaned over your body again, one arm braced near your shoulder and the other stroking his cock slowly, your heart began to pound fast. There was that brief moment of I’m really doing this, right now, with him, but you’d never wanted anything more in your life.

Steve lined the head of his cock up with your entrance. You were still soaked, so he wasn’t worried, but you were. You’d heard rumors of how some girls couldn’t even take him, only getting him halfway in before giving up and jerking him off instead. You hadn’t believed them, because starting a rumor about the size of his dick was absolutely something you could see Steve doing. But now you were here in his bed, seeing firsthand that it was very true.

He traced his cock up and down through your folds, coating himself in that slick wetness, showing a surprising amount of care. He placed hot, gentle kisses along your jaw as he did, voice a soft, low rumble in your ear.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, lips brushing against your skin. “You don’t like it, we don’t have to. But I’ve got you, baby. You’re so good, I think you can take it.”

You could hear the need in his voice, how badly he needed you to let him fuck you. But you also knew he was true to his word.

But, god, you wanted to take all of him. To show him you could, to feel him buried deep. To make him fall apart.

Steve kissed his way back to your lips, kissing you slow and deep, tongue massaging against yours. You felt the sting of the thick head of his cock pushing inside you, and you let out a soft whimper into the kiss. He moaned against you and pushed in just a little deeper.

“That’s it,” he whispered between kisses. He grabbed your thigh with his left hand now, spreading you wide for him. “Doin’ so good, baby, letting me in.” He rolled his hips in shallow thrusts, just that little bit inside of you, sinking in another inch with every slow, deliberate thrust, working you open.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, but he kept your attention on him, entirely on the way he was kissing you. You weren’t sure why or how but it was working, his slow, languid kiss distracting you from the sharp sting where he was stretching you around the girth of him, coaxing your body to relax.

The feeling of being filled was like nothing else. Sure, you’d had plenty of sex, but Steve made you feel absolutely stuffed full before he was even completely inside. He held your thigh up, keeping you open for him, your flexibility not lost on him. He rolled his hips in a few more slow thrusts—and then you felt his hips pressed flush against you.

“Christ,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against yours. “So perfect, baby, you fuckin’—took it all, Jesus—“

You’d never heard Steve sound so utterly wrecked. He rolled his hips against you a few times, just enjoying the feeling of being completely sheathed inside your tight heat. And fuck, you were stretched around him perfectly, tight and hot. You felt like absolute heaven around his cock.

His cock throbbed inside you, so hard you could feel it. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, palms rubbing over his hot skin, a thin sheen of sweat coating it from the sheer effort of holding back from pounding into you.

“Steve,” you whimpered. Your cunt fluttered around him, and he dropped his head to your shoulder with a broken moan.

“Yeah?” he rasped. His hips rocked lightly against you, betraying his desperation.

“You can…” You gasped as the coarse hair at his base rubbed against your clit, still so sensitive but aching for him again. “…You can move.”

Steve moaned again, placing a few hot kisses against your neck as if thanking you. Finally he pulled his hips back, slowly withdrawing almost fully. Only his tip remained, and you could have cried at the loss of that perfect full feeling. But then he sank back in—slow at first, filling you to the brim again. Your desperate sounds of pleasure mixed together in the hot, charged air of his bedroom, a symphony intertwined much like your bodies.

“Shit,” he cursed. He set a careful rhythm, every thrust measured and slow and deep. “You’re taking me so fucking good. Fuuuuck. That pussy is fucking unreal.”

You could barely think straight. Your entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Steve inside of you, stretching you open perfectly. The sting was still there, but it was quickly fading into pure ecstasy with every movement of his hips. Your body was adapting to him like it was made for it.

Hands tangled in his hair again, you pulled him down into another messy kiss, all tongue and desperation, sloppy and hungry and hot. He groaned loudly into it, hips rutting into you faster.

Whines and whimpers and keening moans were spilling from your lips with little control. Your hips moved in time with his thrusts, meeting him every time. His cock was deeper than you thought possible, brushing against that spot that quickly had you gasping and babbling complete nonsense.

“Feels so good Steve, oh fuck, oh god, please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop I’m gonna cum again, Steve please, oh god—!”

Every word that tumbled from your lips was like fuel to the fire of his intense need. He couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t worry about if he might hurt you, too lost in the feeling of your body wrapped around him. His hips rocked against yours in a frantic pace now, his breaths coming in ragged pants, eyes locked on the way your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts. You arched your back and he leaned down to wrap his lips around a nipple again, moaning as he laved his tongue over it, eyes closed and completely pussydrunk, all because of you.

He sucked hard on your nipple one more time before letting go with a wet pop and sitting up on his knees. He held onto your waist and used your body, pulling you down onto his cock with every rough snap of his hips. His eyes were locked on the sight, watching himself disappear into your perfect cunt, seeing you stretch around him, take him whole.

“Holy fuck,” he panted. The sight of the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he took what he needed from you, watching you with such heat, made you feel utterly delirious. He looked powerful and strong, like an absolute god. “Jesus. Look how you take me, baby, fuck. Knew you’d be good, but—“ His hips stuttered, eyes rolling back for a second. “—shit, holy fuck—“

“Baby,” you gasped, grabbing onto the pillow above your head. Your cunt was tightening, throbbing around him, soaking his cock. The sound of him driving into you was loud and obscene—the slick, wet sounds, the sound of his skin slapping against yours. You might have felt a little self conscious if you could think about anything other than his cock coaxing that second orgasm from your trembling body. “I can’t—oh god, Steve, please…”

“You can do it,” he was nearly begging now, his cock beginning to twitch within your tight walls, so close to his own end but determined to get you there first. “Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me feel it. Cum all over my cock, show me how good it feels, how much you like getting fucked by me.”

You turned your head, biting down on a pillow you held to your face in an effort to muffle the scream that ripped from your lungs. Your body arched, cunt clenching around him as wave after wave of overwhelming, perfect pleasure washed over you. Your ears were ringing, moaning and gasping and babbling his name again and again.

“Shit!” Steve cursed, hips pounding into you reckless and fast. “That’s it, god yeah, let me feel it—oh fuck—you’re so good, so fucking good baby, letting me fuck you like this, squeezing around me—shit—oh baby, gonna make me—gonna make me fuckin’ cum—“

His body pitched forward over yours, bracing himself on an arm and burying his face in your neck. His cock buried deep in you, hips snapping in a few more frantic, shallow thrusts before he tensed, his groan muffled against your skin as he spilled into the condom, repeating your name over and over, body shaking with the intensity.

Your head was spinning. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. Steve’s body was heavy on top of you, your sweat-slicked skin pressed together, as he tried to catch his breath. It was a minute of heavy silence before he finally slid his softening cock out of you, collapsing onto his back.

The loss of that glorious full feeling was disappointing, to say the least. But as Steve removed the condom from his spent cock, tying it off and tossing it into his trash can, the moment finally, properly, broke.

And you realized you were naked in Steve Harrington’s bed. That you had fucked him.

The effects of the weed seemed to have worn off, leaving you feeling suddenly cold and exposed and panicked. Even as you began to freak out more and more, Steve looked totally fine, laying back against the headboard with an arm behind his head. His chest still rose and fell with heavy breaths, skin still shining with sweat, but he looked satisfied. Proud of himself in that way that always pissed you off, but especially now.

“So,” he said, and like so many times before, he’d ruined it all the moment he opened his mouth. “You let me fuck you after all, huh?”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. You felt like you couldn’t stand to be exposed like this to him for another second, holding every article of clothing you grabbed to your chest until you found it all.

Steve laughed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about being totally naked in front of you, comfortable in his own skin the way he always was. “Those panties might be ruined. They were pretty soaked. You can leave them here with me, if you want.” He grinned wider. “I’ll keep them safe. Won’t even wash ‘em.”

“You’re a pig,” you spat back at him. He wasn’t exactly wrong, though. You didn’t want to put them back on, but you weren’t about to walk out of this room wearing that tiny skirt with nothing underneath.

“But was I right?”

“About what?” you asked as you hooked your bra, roughly pulling your shirt back on. The scowl on your face was a permanent fixture at this point, which was amusing to him.

“That I’m good?” he raised his eyebrows, and the grin on his face told you he knew the real answer no matter what you said in response.

“You weren’t that good,” you mumbled. You pulled your skirt back onto your hips, grabbing your shoes.

Steve laughed. “Oh, come on. That’s not what you were saying when you were practically riding my face, or when you were cumming on my dick, begging me not to stop.” His words made your face burn, unable to even say something smart in return. “You don’t have to lie to me, baby. I was there.”

Fully dressed now, you moved to his dresser mirror, trying to fix your appearance. “Don’t call me baby.”

He crossed his ankles, just watching you with that infuriating grin. He made no move to cover any part of his body, his cock laying against his thigh. It was huge even when he was soft, which you hated that you even noticed. 

“Aw, why’re you so mad now?” The condescending tone in his voice made you shiver with the effort of not losing your absolute shit. “Personally, I had fun. And I just gave you your first orgasm ever—“

“Not my first orgasm.”

“Sorry, your first orgasm that you didn’t give yourself.” He tilted his head, smirking. You could feel his eyes all over your body, shameless. “Two of them, actually. So really, you should probably be thanking me.”

You barked out a laugh as you wiped a lipstick smudge from the corner of your mouth. You turned around, noticing for the first time that some of it had transferred to his face. “I’m not thanking you for shit. This never should’ve happened.”

Steve watched you head for the door. He had no intention of stopping you. He’d never let a girl stay in his bed after sex, and he wasn’t about to start now. He moved lazily even as he sat up and began to grab his own clothes.

“You can pretend you didn’t like it all you want, baby,” he said, not even looking at you anymore as he pulled his boxer briefs back onto his legs. “But you and I both know what happened in here tonight, and I don’t think you’ll be forgetting it any time soon.”

You held back a frustrated scream as you walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Thankfully the music was loud enough that it didn’t draw any attention. You stomped down the hallway and down the stairs, back into the chaos that now felt suffocating and overwhelming in a way it never had before.

You found Nancy in the kitchen, laughing with some of the other sisters. When she spotted you her expression turned serious, saying something to the girls before walking straight to you. 

“Where did you go?” she asked, reaching for your arm. Her hand was a little cold and every touch to your skin right now felt like a scalding burn, but you didn’t pull away. “I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

“Just got wrapped up talking to some people,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with her. “I’m gonna head home, though.”

Nancy’s brows furrowed. “Now? Already? It’s still pretty early.”

“I just don’t feel good,” you said. All you really wanted was to get back to the safety of your own bedroom and freak out about this in private. “You don’t have to leave.”

“No, don’t be silly. I’m going with you.” She drained the last of the contents of her cup and tossed it into the nearby trash can, intertwining her fingers with yours. “This party kinda sucked tonight, anyway.”

You smiled at her, genuinely grateful. Nancy was your best friend for a reason, and you loved her. But you could never tell her what happened tonight.

As you walked hand in hand to the front door, you felt a creeping feeling up your spine. Just as Nancy turned the doorknob, opening the door and letting the cool September air inside, you looked back over your shoulder.

Steve leaned against the railing upstairs, watching you. When you locked eyes, he lifted a hand in a wave, smiling down at you.

You left the house, letting the door close hard behind you.

Steve was haunting you.

Not even in the way he always had, constantly in the same places, an unavoidable physical presence. No, this was worse. He was in your head now. And for the first time ever, you felt you had actually been lucky before.

The night after that first fateful mistake, you’d gotten back to the house, told Nancy you didn’t feel good, and went straight to bed. You removed your clothes from the party, shoved that pair of panties straight in the trash. You didn’t think you could ever look at them again.

Sleep didn’t come easily. You laid in bed, thinking about Steve and what you’d done without a moment’s reprieve. It was miserable, but you figured it was normal. Something terrible had just happened after all; a horrible mistake had been made, so of course you were going to think about it. It would fade. You would feel better tomorrow.

The problem was that it never stopped.

You woke up thinking about Steve. Went to class thinking about him. Every time you saw him on campus—and he always saw you first, smirking at you and giving you that douchebag nod, or a casual wave that he knew was anything but—you averted your eyes and headed quickly in the other direction.

If the fact that you’d done it at all didn’t disgust you enough, it was nothing compared to the horrible truth. That you’d liked it. Loved it. Wanted more. He really was the best you’d ever had, and you didn’t think he’d ever done a single thing that had pissed you off more than that.

Of all the guys you’d been with, guys who were plenty hot and popular and well liked, not a single one of them had ever cared about your pleasure in any way. They were only interested in getting themselves off. You were pretty sure they wouldn’t have been able to find the clit if they’d even bothered to try.

But Steve? He had absolutely rocked your world exactly like he promised. The only orgasms you’d ever experienced had been by your own hands, and you figured no one ever would or could know your body better than you did. How did he know the exact right places to touch, the right things to do? Every girl was different, right? Did he have some kind of stupid fucking superpower?

He had you completely spiraling. You felt like you were losing your mind. Even Nancy and Carol and the other girls noticed there was something up with you. Nancy was the only one who asked, but you quickly made up some excuse about being stressed over classes and homecoming. Tommy was still doing everything in his power to win you over, but there was only one Sigma Chi member on your mind at all hours, day and night.

You laid in bed at night with the memory haunting you. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his stupidly huge dick that he knew exactly how to use, that he’d taken so much care with so he wouldn’t hurt you. How hard you’d cum when he went down on you, the way he made you cum again with nothing but his cock. The memories replayed through your mind nonstop until the ache between your thighs became unbearable and you couldn’t help it anymore, your hand slipping beneath your shorts and panties and burying your moans in your fist until you came moaning his name, picturing his face the way he looked staring up at you from between your legs.

That was the worst of it, the guilt and confusion and disappointment you felt when it was over. When you were laying there in the quiet dark of your bedroom, realizing that you were really, truly fucked.

You wanted Steve. You wanted him bad. And you didn’t think you could keep lying to yourself.

By the time the next party came around, you were done even trying to pretend.

You spent a little extra time getting ready in your bedroom, picking out a cute little dress after trying on nearly everything in your closet. It was form fitting, short, and a bit revealing. You knew it would catch his attention. You honestly weren’t sure why you were even trying, since you’d never had to try to get him to notice you before, even when you desperately didn’t want him to.

When you met Nancy and Carol in the front room, their eyes widened at the sight of you. “Woah. That’s the slut dress,” Carol remarked right away.

It made you laugh even as your skin flushed with embarrassment. It was true. This dress rarely ever came out, and when it did it was because you were going on a date you really wanted to end happily—hence the nickname your friends had dubbed it with.

“Is there something you wanna tell us?” Nancy asked, her brows raised. “I mean, you look great, but…who’s it for?”

The question made you freeze for a moment, even though you should’ve known they’d ask. Of course they would. But you recovered quickly, making up a lie on the spot that you prayed sounded believable. “No one in particular. Just…hoping to catch the attention of someone interesting, at least.”

That seemed good enough for Carol, who turned away and started digging through her purse to make sure she’d packed her lipstick, but Nancy watched you a little longer. She was always so analytical with everything, and as your best friend, she knew you too well for you to get away with lying to her about much. And you hated lying to Nancy, you really did, but how would you explain this?

The three of you left Delta Gamma as a unit, arms linked together. The walk to the Sigma Chi house wasn’t far, and it was a chilly evening, but nothing too bad. The bare skin of your thighs felt the sting of the cold the most, but before you knew it you were walking in the front door, the packed frat house instantly hot enough to make you grateful for the amount of skin you had showing.

For the first time, you were grateful to be separated from your girls so quickly. And, equally as unusual in this alternate dimension you’d somehow stepped into—you wanted to find Steve. Your eyes scanned each room for him, ears focused on listening for his voice. Something you couldn’t explain led you to the backyard, a place you didn’t often venture here.

The hot tub was on, and overcrowded. Some of the guys were in with a handful of girls, most sitting in someone’s lap. A larger crowd just hung out on the back deck, some even into the yard beneath the lights. You heard the sound of his laughter quickly, turning your head to the left at the exact time he looked in your direction.

And god, you hated to admit it, but he looked good. His hair was once again perfectly styled, and he wore a long sleeve dark green shirt with a pair of jeans that he wore…really, really well. They were tight, perfectly fitted, and you didn’t know how you’d never known about his size when he wore pants like that. His ass looked great, too.

Fuck.

You locked eyes with him. He held your gaze for a minute, smirk on his face even as he kept talking to his friends. Then, for the first time ever—he turned away. Going right back to his conversation as if you’d never even been there at all.

You were stunned.

Never in the history of your time at OSU had Steve seen you and not immediately approached to piss you off. He had never dismissed you like that. If the rage hadn’t already been boiling in your blood, it certainly was now.

You scoffed, turning around and walking back into the house. If he was expecting you to come to him, it wasn’t gonna happen. It had never happened that way before and wasn’t going to start now. Instead you pushed your way to the kitchen, heading straight to pour yourself a drink.

Just as you were reaching for one of the red plastic cups, another hand came around your shoulder and grabbed it before you could. You turned around, more confused than angry, to see Tommy Hagan standing right behind you, a warm smile on his freckled face.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, looking like he just realized how awkward of a move it was. “I just—can I get you a drink?”

You paused for a second. “Um…yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, his expression becoming a little more comfortable at your acceptance. He moved around to the counter that held a keg and multiple bottles of liquor. It was surrounded by people, as it always was, but they moved for Tommy out of respect in the same way they did for Steve. “What’re you drinking?”

You scanned the selection—there was a bit of everything. Sigma Chi took pride in keeping the alcohol flowing at every party. “Tequila?”

“You got it.” Tommy grinned. He filled the red cup from the keg and passed it back to you, then reached for the bottle of tequila, pouring two shots. He handed one to you and held the other out in a toast.

You smiled softly as you gently tapped your cup against his, then brought it to your lips, downing the burning liquid with ease. Tommy laughed when you scrunched your face up in disgust for a second.

“You’d think Harrington would splurge for the good shit,” Tommy said, leaning back against the counter as he looked at you. “I guess I can’t complain about free alcohol, though.”

“True,” you smiled, even though you really didn’t want to talk or think about Steve anymore, especially right now. “Thanks. Again. For the drinks.” You held your beer up towards him before taking a sip.

“No problem,” he said, a soft blush touching his pale skin. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pour their own drinks.”

Even though you didn’t like Tommy as more than a friend, he really was sweet, and his attention made you feel good. Special. “What would I ever do without you, Tommy?”

He laughed, looking down at his shoes for a moment. “Hey,” he said, meeting your eyes again. “I was just thinking…if you’d maybe want to go out? Maybe…Monday?”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t actually expected him to ask you on a date. Your lips parted, closed, then opened again, but you couldn’t figure out the right words to say.

“Nothing serious,” Tommy said quickly, noticing your hesitation. “It doesn’t have to be…y’know. I just thought we could maybe get some food, talk about homecoming…” His soft smile returned. “…and, you know, I’d really like to take you out.”

It was hard not to soften around him, especially with the way he spoke to you. Every Sig was great at turning on the charm, but there was something about Tommy that felt so genuine. And would it really be so bad to go out with him? “Sure. That sounds good. My last class ends at 4?”

“Great,” he said, the words leaving him in a breath of relief. “Yeah, awesome. I can pick you up from DG? Like…6?”

“That’s perfect,” you nodded. You drank from your beer again just as another Sig walked up to Tommy—Billy Hargrove. You hadn’t spoken to him much yourself, but he was nice to look at for sure. You knew a few of your sorority sisters had been out with him, and he had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies man. He had a gorgeous smile, tan skin, blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair that hung to his shoulders in soft, beautiful curls.

“Hagan,” Billy said, clapping a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then his eyes landed on you. “Well. You didn’t tell me you were busy entertaining DG’s most beautiful.”

Even though all these frat guys pulled the same cheesy lines, you still felt the heat rise to your skin. “Hi, Billy.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” He smiled down at you, showing off the dimple in his cheek. Something about it brought out the ‘smiling shyly, twirling your hair around your finger’, teenage girl-type feeling buried deep within you. Tommy’s confident smile had dropped, now shifting awkwardly on his feet.

“Uh, what’s up, Hargrove?” Tommy asked, trying his best to look unbothered.

Billy glanced at him for just a second before those clear blue eyes found you again. “No rush, Hagan. What, don’t wanna share her attention?” His smile was bright and friendly, the kind that would have any girl’s heart beating fast.

“It’s not—“ Tommy sighed, leaning back against the counter.

“We were just talking,” you said, glancing between the two boys. There was an unspoken tension there, but you didn’t dwell on it. “How’s basketball?”

Billy’s smile grew. “It’s great. We’ve started conditioning. Right, Tommy?” he asked, turning around to look at his friend for only a moment, a weak attempt at acting like he had any intent to bring him into the conversation. “You should come to some of our games this season. I think I play better when there’s a pretty girl cheering for me.”

You laughed, the sound light and airy and genuine. “Is that right?”

Billy shrugged. “Could be just a theory, but why take the risk? Wouldn’t be very good for school spirit if we didn’t do everything possible to make sure we take home that championship, right?”

You rolled your eyes lightly as you laughed again, but it was more amusement than irritation—not like with certain people. “I guess that’s true. We should all do our part.”

“Exactly.” He smirked. “And maybe I can come watch you run some time. See that record-breaking sprinter I’ve heard so much about in action.”

You weren’t sure why exactly, but it surprised you that he knew anything about your athletic achievements. It was talked about on campus—the school loved to celebrate their top athletes—but it’s not like most of the school cared about track and field the way they did about other sports. You were no Steve Harrington, star pitcher. “Yeah, that would be cool. I’d like that.”

“I’ve heard you’re good. Like, insanely fast.” He leaned against the counter next to Tommy with an instinctual swagger, exuding the confidence that came so naturally to him. “And, uh…long jump?”

“High jump,” you corrected, hiding your shy smile behind your cup as you sipped your beer again. “But, yeah. I’d love for you to come watch.”

“Maybe I’ll call you sometime.” Billy winked at you before finally acknowledging Tommy again. “Hagan. We’re waiting for you out back.” He looked back at you. “Sorry, came over here to grab him and didn’t expect to get…distracted.”

“Go do your thing,” you said, waving your hand in some kind of vague gesture. You were starting to feel a slight buzz, at least. “Have fun. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“I’ll see you around,” Billy said with one last flash of that charming smile. When he looked back at Tommy, his expression was more serious, nodding his head towards the back in a silent command that didn’t seem to have any other option.

Tommy smiled at you, but it was more forced, the comfort from before long gone. “I’ll see you Monday,” he said. “It was…good to talk to you. I hope you have fun the rest of the night.”

“Bye,” you said softly, but he was already gone. You watched him trailing after Billy towards the back door, where Steve and some of the other guys waited, a cheer erupting as soon as they walked out the door. Frat boys.

Left on your own again, you tried to enjoy yourself. Bouncing around the house, talking with people you knew from around campus, from sports, from Greek life. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought of Steve from your head. You knew what you’d come here to do, and even though you hated yourself for it, you hadn’t changed your mind. You didn’t think you could.

You saw him again a few times. Through the back door, in the living room, passing him in the hallway on the way to the bathroom, where he bumped into your shoulder and turned around long enough to smirk at you before walking on like it was nothing. Every time you saw him he saw you too, but he didn’t approach you once. It had you fuming.

A few hours into the party, unfortunately, you were getting desperate.

When you walked into the kitchen for another refill, you saw him again. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with one hand holding his cup, talking to some girl you couldn’t name. You weren’t jealous—you were not jealous—but it just made you even angrier. Especially when he glanced at you for just a moment before turning back to her.

This was humiliating. It was demeaning. You hated it. You hated him. But you swallowed your pride, took a deep breath, and walked over to them anyway.

Steve looked at you again, and grinned wide, his eyes lighting up with an infuriating delight as he realized you were coming over. The girl by his side gave you a dirty look as soon as she noticed, but Steve’s attention was now entirely on you.

He said your name, a simple acknowledgement. “How are you enjoying the party?” He tilted his head to the side, his expression smug. He knew exactly what game he’d been playing all night, and he also knew he’d just won.

“It’s great,” you said, your deadpan voice doing nothing to hide your irritation.

“Good. I pride myself on my hospitality.” You didn’t think you’d ever seen Steve not looking proud of himself, but he certainly did right now. “Did you need something?”

You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you refused to back down from the eye contact he was holding. The girl next to him looked between you. “I was…wondering if you had any more of that…weed.”

The grin that spread across his face was nothing short of euphoric. His hazel eyes seemed to shine with it. The girl next to him might as well have no longer existed. “Actually, you know, I might have a little more. I’d have to check.”

Your jaw clenched, looking off to the side before meeting his eyes again. Your whole body buzzed like a live wire. When he didn’t make a move, just kept looking at you, you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. “Well?”

Steve laughed. “Now, huh?” He downed the rest of his beer and turned to the side, dropping the cup in the trash. You were momentarily stunned when he grabbed yours from your hand, too, doing the same. “Well, if it’s that urgent. Come on, we’ll go look.”

He pushed off the wall, walking in the direction of the staircase. He didn’t give the girl he’d been talking to another word or look, but she was certainly glowering at you when you glanced one last time before following after him. You felt ashamed, trailing behind exactly like he wanted you to. But worse than that was the relief.

Still, as you walked up the stairs behind Steve, you looked around to make sure no one was watching. You’d survived the first hookup without rumors starting, but you knew you had to be careful. If there was one student on this campus everyone paid attention to, it was Steve Harrington.

Even worse than some random students seeing and whispering would be Nancy or Carol. You didn’t want to have to even begin to figure out how to explain this to them. It was humiliating enough doing it, confusing even trying to justify it to yourself.

Steve led the way into his bedroom, although you’d dreamed about the same path so many times over the past week, you could have walked yourself there with your eyes closed. His room was still tidy, and the scent of the cologne he was wearing now permeated the air. All his usual hair products sat out on his dresser, and you could practically see the ghost of him there getting ready before leaving for the party downstairs, not putting it away.

He closed the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place like a bomb in the silence. You turned around to face him. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead.

“So…” Steve began, walking over to you slowly. You felt like a rabbit that had run right into his trap—willingly. “Did you really want that weed? Or did you come back for something else?”

You gritted your teeth, fists clenching and unclenching at your side. Drawing in a deep breath, you tried to relax your muscles, your entire body tense. “I…”

Steve was still smiling at you as he approached. He knew you weren’t going to say it, but he had already won. You’d come. His hand came up to rest on your cheek, and you found yourself relishing in the warmth of his palm rather than flinching away.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his voice low. No bravado, soft, meant only for you. His eyes were locked on yours. “I know what you need, baby.” His thumb stroked your cheek, then moved to rub slowly over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t break the intense eye contact if you tried. “Have you been dreaming about it?”

You didn’t know what to say. Your brain was short circuiting. Your hands hung loosely by your side, eyes wide, as he looked at you with pure heat. Goosebumps covered your skin, breath coming in strained.

“I already know,” he continued when you said nothing. His words were a low purr, a sound that had you hypnotized. You didn’t even react when he pulled down slightly on your bottom lip and slipped his thumb inside, pressing down against your tongue. “You’d never been fucked like that in your life. You’ve been thinking about it. Trying to recreate it with your own hand, getting off to the memory.”

Body on autopilot, you closed your lips around his thumb. Your eyes never left each others’ as you ran your tongue over the calloused pad of his finger, sucking on it. For all he tried to act unaffected and in control, you saw the shudder that wracked through him. You didn’t have to look to know he was hard already.

When he pulled his hand away, the trance was broken. But still, you both stood there, just looking at each other. The whole room felt charged with electricity, the air around you heavy enough to feel like a physical, oppressive weight.

Your lips crashed together in a kiss both hungry and frantic. It wasn’t slow and romantic, not this time. Steve’s hands dug into your waist, pulling you close, the kiss all tongue and teeth and messy desperation. He groaned into your mouth, and when he pulled your hips into his, you could feel the hard proof of what you’d already known.

He pulled back to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes drinking in the exposed skin shamelessly. He was breathing hard, eyes glazed over with unfiltered want. Shoes were kicked off, Steve’s jeans hit the floor, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you with ease and laying you on his bed.

“You wore this little thing for me?” Steve whispered in your ear as he settled over you. His lips attacked your neck, sucking at that spot he remembered was so sensitive. You wouldn’t be surprised if he left marks, but you couldn’t think straight long enough to care.

“No.” The denial was weak, even you knew that. You had watched him all night, approached him yourself after sucking up your pride, and now you were beneath him on his bed. But, fuck, hadn’t you given him enough satisfaction tonight?

“No?” He chuckled darkly against the hot skin of your neck. He didn’t believe you for a second. He was rolling his hips against you, the straining in his boxer briefs rock hard where it pressed against your dripping core. “That’s a shame, baby. It looks so good on you.”

The little whimper that escaped when he bit down on the skin beneath your ear would have been embarrassing if you were able to even process it. You arched your back beneath him, pressing your tits against his chest. Your nipples were hard through the thin material of your dress—a bra didn’t work with it, so you’d gone without—and the feeling of friction against them had a breathy noise falling from your lips.

Steve moved down your body, pushing your dress up roughly until it was up around your waist. He lowered himself between your thighs, pressing his nose against your already soaked panties, letting out a low, primal groan. “God, you’re so fucking sweet,” he growled. Unable to wait any longer, he hooked his fingers into the waist of your panties and pulled them off.

“Steve—“ you said in a voice that sounded more like a squeak than anything, spreading your legs for him, breathing hard. His big hands slid up your smooth thighs, opening them wider for him. His nose brushed lightly against your folds, making you draw in a sharp breath.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmured. He was looking at your cunt like he wanted this as badly as you did—maybe more. “What do you want?”

“Just do it,” you whined, your body writhing against his sheets with the overwhelming need. “Please, just…”

“What do you want me to do?” He was looking up at you now, smirking, even as his mouth was hovering an inch from where you needed him more than anything. “You’ve gotta tell me, sweetheart. I can’t read your mind.”

You groaned, eyes opening as you looked down at him. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

His big eyes widened with feigned innocence. “What?” You could feel his breath ghosting over your pussy, so wet for him, and it had you trembling. You couldn’t take much more of this and he knew it.

“Stop trying to make me say it,” you grumbled. You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“Not trying to make you do anything,” he hummed. He moved his head, nose brushing against your clit and making your breath catch. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to know what you want me to do if you don’t tell me, and, y’know, I’d never want to do anything you didn’t want—“

“Oh my god, Steve,” you huffed, hands running through your hair where you laid against his mattress. “Are you gonna keep running your mouth all night or put it to good use again?”

Steve laughed genuinely, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re so feisty. I always liked that about you.”

Before you could complain anymore, he buried his face against your pussy, diving in like it had been killing him to hold himself back, too. You cried out, loud, a hand moving to slap over your mouth a second too late. You could feel his lips curling in a smile against you.

He was good, so good, you didn’t have to have any prior experience to know that. It was no wonder he had girls lining up to get in his bed. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet, his tongue fucking inside of you, drinking in all the sweetness you dripped for him, rolling his tongue over your clit. It felt like he was everywhere at once.

“Steve, fuck!” you cried, gasping and clutching onto the pillows behind your head. “Oh my god, fuck, how are you—oh fuck—“

He groaned against your cunt, the vibrations going straight through your clit and to every nerve ending in your body. He flicked his tongue over the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it and sucking as he sunk two fingers into your fluttering hole.

“God!” you choked. Your thighs were trembling around his head already. Your hand moved down to card through his hair before gripping onto the soft strands for dear life, pulling another moan from him when your fingers tightened in them.

Steve’s fingers fucked into you, nice and slow at first, slipping in a third finger before curling deep to hit that perfect spot. He was getting you ready for his cock again, your heart beating out of your chest at the thought alone. You could see it when you closed your eyes, just as you had for the past week, and it had you growing even wetter for him.

“Steve…” you whined, your hips starting to grind against his face. He let you, moaning and working you even harder, begging for it without any words. “I’m gonna…”

“Give it to me,” he rasped, pulling away just long enough to say the words before his mouth was right back against you, delving his tongue between your folds and focusing on your clit while his fingers worked you open.

Stars exploded behind your vision. Unable to hold it back, you cried out, mindlessly babbling combinations of his name and curses and desperate pleas of don’t stop don’t stop oh please fuck god don’t stop—

Steve worked you through every last aftershock, playing your body like an instrument he knew wholly, intimately. Your body was still shaking when he pulled away. The sight of him looking down at you like that, with his lips and chin glistening with your release, made you whimper. God, why did he have to look like that?

“So fucking good,” he said, eyes dark and awed. His cock strained hard against his boxers. You could see it twitching through the material, throbbing visibly.

His hands slid up your body, looking at you with a deep reverence as he slid the dress up until it was over your head, tossing it to his floor. His eyes raked over your naked body, every inch of it, the smooth skin and the way your chest rose and fell, how wide your eyes were looking up at him, your pretty lips parted.

“I thought about you, too,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your cheek, back to your ear. “Thought about how you tasted. How tight you felt around me. The way you said my name. The noises you made…god, I came so fucking hard playing those noises over and over in my head.”

You gasped, the throbbing between your legs starting up again at his words. You’d had no idea. Why would he be thinking of you when he could have any girl at this whole school? He wasn’t just saying it. The unfiltered heat in his voice made that clear.

Steve lifted off of you slowly, eyes staying on you until he turned away to open his bedside drawer and grab one of those foil packets he seemed to have an endless supply of. He pushed his boxers down, flushed cock springing free, and kicked the last bit of clothing off the bed with the rest.

You watched him rip the foil open and roll it onto his (impressive, huge, perfect, achingly hard) cock, your pussy clenching around nothing, your body itself begging for him. He settled between your legs, wrapping his big hands around your thighs, opening you wide.

“Dreamed about this pussy,” he mumbled, wrapping a hand around his shaft and dragging his tip through your soaked folds. He pressed the thick head against your hole, pressing forward just slightly, just feeling you. You whined, rocking your hips down, begging for him inside. He smirked as he noticed, but didn’t push in yet. His expression was almost dreamy, pupils blown. “Best pussy I ever had. Fuck. Never came so fucking hard as I did inside you.”

“Steve…” you breathed, the word itself a plea.

“Tell me,” he breathed. It wasn’t a tease anymore. The need in his voice was staggering. He was begging. “Please, baby. Need to hear you say it.”

The sight of Steve, utterly wrecked like this, was almost too much to bear. You didn’t have it in you to refuse, not anymore. “Please,” you keened. “God, Steve, please fuck me.”

His eyes fluttered closed and he let out a ragged groan, even before he finally rolled his hips forward, piercing you with that perfect, thick cock. You nearly sobbed in pleasure as you felt it, that overwhelming fullness as he sank into you inch by inch. It was easier this time but still a stretch, still that distant sting until his hips pressed flush against you.

“Christ—“ Steve choked, falling forward on his hands, planting them on either side of your shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

You rocked your hips up against him, telling him it was okay to move. Begging him to move. “Oh my god,” you moaned. Your walls throbbed around him, which was undoing him way faster than he’d care to admit.

He pulled his hips back before sinking back in. Starting slow, as if he were still trying to be careful with his last shred of restraint. It didn’t last long. The perfect clench of your heat around him was driving him mad, his thrusts quickly working up into a punishing rhythm.

Your name left his lips in a shuddering breath, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder. The sound of his skin meeting yours filled the room, your cunt so slick and wet around him you could hear it every time he drove in. He fucked you harder than he had last time, something you didn’t even know you’d craved until you had it.

“So fucking—god—you feel so fucking good,” he grunted, his body slick with sweat where it was pressed against yours. You hooked a leg around his waist as he reached down with one hand to grab your thigh and press it up against your chest.

The angle was devastating, his cock hitting deeper inside of you than you thought possible. Your eyes rolled back as he punched soft, mindless little “ah ah ah”s from your lungs with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on his forehead with the effort of how hard he fucked you. The headboard knocked against the wall, chipping the paint from the force of it, the sound unmistakable for anyone who happened to walk by. “Gonna make me cum so fucking hard again. Fuck. Oh, fuck, baby, you’re so perfect, so goddamn—oh shit—“

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling on it the way you now knew he liked. The desperate groan he let out was muffled as you pulled him down to your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. The kiss was utterly filthy, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth—yours, his, both.

The whines he was letting out were growing higher, needier. All signs of that cocky, insufferable personality were gone, nothing but pleasure and desire coursing through him. His fingers dug bruises into your thigh as he snapped his hips forward harder, and oh fuck, he was hitting that spot again—

“Steve!” you gasped, head tossing back against the pillows. Steve’s lips moved down the exposed column of your throat, placing hot, wet kisses everywhere he could reach. “Oh, fuck, Steve, I’m gonna fucking cum—“

“Please,” he begged, his voice a ragged growl against your throat. “Let me feel you. Squeeze my cock, milk me fuckin’ dry, please.”

That coil snapped again, hard, the moan it forced from you more like a scream. It was loud, you knew it was loud, but you couldn’t help it, completely delirious with the intensity of the pleasure. Your back arched beneath him, moaning and crying out and calling his name again and again.

Steve let out a choked noise at the feeling of you tightening around him, clenching and throbbing hard. His hips rutted into you with a desperate, frantic intensity, rhythm completely gone as he chased his own orgasm. He was right behind you, only a couple more shallow thrusts until he was stilling as deep inside you as possible. He groaned roughly, his head dropping to bury his face right between your tits as his body shuddered with release. You could feel him pulsing inside you even through the condom.

The room calmed, your heavy breathing the only sounds remaining. His weight was heavy over you, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t exactly want him to move, at least not yet. In the quiet aftermath, you relished in the feeling of him, his cock still throbbing inside as he slowly softened.

When he finally mustered up the energy to move he lifted off of you, pulling out and removing the condom, tossing it in the trash. You couldn’t bring yourself to look and see if there was proof of him having any other girls in here since you’d been with him. You didn’t know why you cared.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his arms resting on his knees. He was still catching his breath as you sat up, reality beginning to creep back in like unforgiving daylight after the safety of the night.

He turned his head to look at you, lips curling into a smile again. His skin still glistened with sweat. “Was it as good as the first time?” He asked, once again breaking the spell with his big mouth. “What you were hoping for when you showed up here tonight, dressed like that?”

You scoffed, sliding off the bed to collect your clothes again. Now that you’d gotten what you’d been craving, the desperation that had been clouding your brain was gone. That familiar shame was crawling over you again.

“What?” he laughed. “You can say it, y’know. Doesn’t mean you have to like me just because you like fucking me.”

You hesitated for a moment, then moved again, pulling your panties back over your legs. “Don’t.”

“Come on, baby,” he goaded, leaning back on the bed. He watched you, propped up on one arm, once again unbothered by being completely exposed to you. “Would it really be so bad to admit it?”

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes staring at your ass as you pulled your panties back on. “Fine,” you finally huffed, turning around. You clutched your dress in your hands, nearly throwing it at him when he didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze dropped down to your tits. “You’re good. It was amazing. Is that what you want to hear?”

He grinned. “I just wanted to hear the truth.” He shrugged playfully. “I mean, I already knew, just wanted to hear you admit it. Not for me, but for yourself.”

“Aren’t you altruistic,” you muttered, pulling the dress back over your head. The way his brow furrowed for a moment showed he didn’t know what the word meant, but he didn’t press.

Finally he sat up, beginning to replace his own clothes. “It’s okay that you can’t stay away. I get it. It’s good sex.”

“I can stay away—“

“Sure,” he interrupted, lifting his hips to get his boxers back on. “But you don’t want to, right?”

You paused. You hadn’t let yourself think about that. If it was okay to let yourself want this. Just because you hated Steve so bad, because you didn’t want anyone to know this was happening. But did that make it bad? Did it make you wrong? Weak, like you’d felt all week, and especially tonight?

Maybe he was right. It was good sex.

After buttoning his jeans, Steve stood to face you. He ran a hand through his hair, looking in the mirror behind you for just a second before focusing back on you. “Look,” he started, but it was hard to pay attention when he was standing there shirtless like that. “I think we could help each other.”

You forced your eyes back up to his face, the smirk sitting there evidence that he’d seen you staring. “Help each other?”

He walked over to you, hands resting on your hips again. You didn’t push him away, holding his gaze. “Yeah. Help each other. I told you I liked it too, didn’t I?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You’d heard him say it, when he was buried inside you, moaning your name, but you figured it was just…talk. Heat of the moment. Nothing real. Nothing you said or felt when you were fucking was real.

Your lack of a response didn’t deter him. His fingers flexed on your hips, but he didn’t pull you closer. “We could make this a casual thing,” he offered, finally putting the words out there. “You like it, I like it. Why not keep having fun together?”

You turned his words over and over in your head. It felt like far more than the seconds it actually took as you thought over his proposition. What it meant, what it changed, how it felt.

But the memory of the past week played through your mind on repeat. How miserable you’d been, the way you couldn’t get him out of your head. That he was right, the sex had been so good you’d craved it day and night, and the second time had been just as good, if not better.

Steve waited patiently, but he knew your answer before you finally forced it out. “…Okay. Yeah. I guess.”

He grinned, squeezing your hips one more time before moving back. “Okay then. Good.”

“But we keep this between us,” you added quickly. “I’m serious. Just us. You don’t tell your friends and I won’t tell mine.”

He looked amused, but he didn’t argue. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You stared at him. “Steve.”

“Okay,” he laughed, pulling his shirt back on. “I won’t tell a soul. You have my word.”

You let out a sigh, both relief and anxiety at once. Turning to his mirror, you fixed your hair, cleaning up your smudged makeup. “It means nothing, and no one knows.”

The heat of his body suddenly behind you made you jump. But he just stood next to you, fixing his own appearance.

“It means nothing,” he repeated. “And no one knows.”

part two soooooon

as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!

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August 12th - two days before the wedding.

Max was pacing in front of the mirror, hair messy from all the times she moved it from side to side, something she does when she's frustrated.

“They’re red, Lucas!” she says for the third time, like if she repeated it enough times, Lucas would start freaking out the way she is. I asked for white flowers. White is the whole theme. What am I supposed to do with red flowers? This isn’t a fucking Valentine’s wedding!”

Lucas was dialing the bakery again, phone pressed tight to his ear. “They’re still not answering.”

“Of course they’re not answering!” Max snaps, turning on him. “Why would anything go right today? Why would anything be easy?”

“And what did your aunt say? She just decided to not come? Two days before the wedding?” he asks.

“She said something came up. She wouldn't even tell me what it was. I think she just didn't want to see my mom because they're still mad at each other! Everything just sucks! My family is so messed up, we can't even have a wedding!” she started crying again.

“Hey, hey-” he softened immediately, reaching for her.

“The seating chart is ruined now. I spent hours on that, I finally got everyone where they wouldn’t fight and now there’s empty spaces and... god, the florist, the cake, the seating-”

“Max-”

“I can’t do this,” she says, voice breaking. “I just can't do this anymore."

"Okay, Max, leave it to me." you finally step in. “You’re getting married in less than forty-eight hours. You can't fall apart now.”

“I’m already falling apart.” Max mutters weakly.

“So let me handle it." you repeat. 

“Yeah." Steve adds, pushing off the wall he was leaning against. “That’s literally why we’re here, remember? Best man, maid of honor. Isn't it our job to solve problems?”

You were, in fact, the maid of honor of Max's wedding. You were so excited when she had asked you, so happy and proud. But it all came crashing down when she told you who the best man was going to be. Of all people, Lucas had asked your ex-boyfriend. 

The reasons they gave you made sense. Throughout their relationship, you and Steve were always the ones to offer advice on how to fix a fight and how to forgive each other over dumb things, as mad as they could be at each other. They say that if it weren’t for your help, they probably wouldn't be together today.

Funny how that worked perfectly for them, but it didn't have the same effect on your relationship... 

As the saying goes 'do as I say, not as I do.'

Steve and you broke up a year ago already, after 5 years of dating. It got to a point where there were more fights than sex, and more insults than compliments. So you decided to walk out, and not come back. 

You don't look at him when he talks. 

“We’ll fix the flowers, track down the cake, and redo the seating chart.” you tell Max.

“Sorry, we?” Steve checks, surprised. "As in... together?"

“Yes. We.” you finally look at him.

Lucas looked between you, already hopeful. “You sure you guys can handle it?”

“Of course." you say, saving the doubts all for yourself, trying to look confident.

“Sure, piece of cake.” Steve reassures him.

Max steps forward towards you. “If you fix this, I swear I’ll owe you forever.”

“Just relax, I'll handle everything." you say.

“Debatable.” Steve mutters under his breath, you ignore him.

“Go,” you tell her gently. “Take five minutes. Cry, breathe. We’ll start figuring this out.”

Lucas nods, guiding Max toward the bathroom. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. Five minutes, honey.”

The door shut behind them.

"What did you get us into?" Steve complains.

"We don't have time for your pessimism." 

“My pessimism?” Steve asks incredulously. “You just volunteered us to fix four separate crises in under two days like we’re some kind of magicians."

“We have to be!” you shot back, scribbling something down. “Or did you think your role was just standing there and looking pretty?”

"It was all I was worried about up until ten minutes ago." he mutters.

“Focus.”

“I’m focused,” he says, stepping closer. “I’m focused on the fact that you just decided everything without asking me.”

“What exactly would you have said?” you look at him.

“That this is insane?”

“And then what?”

“And then-” he hesitates for a second, thinking of another alternative, then says, “-we come up with a plan, all four of us together!”

"I already have a plan! We'll keep calling the bakery until they answer; threaten the florist so he can do his job right; call the aunt and convince her to come." you list with your fingers. 

“Wow... revolutionary.” he says sarcastically. You roll your eyes and start moving. “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you."

“I’m not walking away, I’m working.”

“No, you’re doing the thing you always do-”

"Do not start with that." you turn to him.

“You shut down and pretend the conversation’s over just because you’re done with it.”

“I am done with this conversation, yes.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better? Just ignoring everything?”

“It makes it faster.” you respond, heading to the hallway.

“Oh, great, yeah, because that worked so well for us last time.” he walks right behind you.

“We are not doing this right now.”

“Are we ever going to do it? Because apparently walking away is your favorite solution.”

“Stop following me.” 

“Stop running away.”

“I’m not.”

“You literally are!”

You spun around. "I am trying to fix our friend's wedding while you're busy picking a fight over something that happened a year ago."

"Because we never talked about it!” he fires back. “You just decide you’re done and that’s it!”

“At least I don’t drag things out until they get ugly.” you snap.

His laugh is sharp. “Oh, you mean like right now?”

You exhale, long, trying to control yourself. “Pass me the phone, Steve.”

He stares back at you. Hurt under his anger. “Unbelievable.” he mutters, but he grabs the phone anyway.

You start dialing the phone number of Max's aunt. Steve leans back against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with skepticism and amusement, more than enough to get under your skin. 

“Hello? Hi! Mrs. Montgomery? Hi, this is Max’s maid of honor.” you tell her your name. “I just wanted to talk to you for a minute about Sunday. Max is really upset you won’t be here, and I thought maybe we could-”

You pause. Steve sees your expression shifting just a little. 

“No, I understand things come up, of course, but I just think that-”

You pause again, your shoulders slump down, signing this is not going well. 

“Well, yes, but it’s not just any day, it’s her wedding, and-” you stop talking. lips pressing together. 

“Okay,” you sigh. “I see. No, I understand. Thank you for letting me know.” you lower the phone slowly. 

“Well?” Steve pushes off the wall, already knowing the answer. 

“She’s not coming.”

“Shocking.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean, really, who could’ve predicted that not everyone bends to your will?” he goes on, “Must be a new experience for you.” 

“What side are you on?” you turn to him. 

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be helping me solve this,” you snap, stepping closer. “Not standing there waiting for me to fail.” 

“I’m not waiting for you to fail. I just think it’s funny you walked into that call so sure you had it handled.” 

“I did-”

“No, you didn’t. You had a plan and it didn’t work.”

“At least I had a plan!” you fire back.

“Oh, yeah, great plan. ‘Hi, I’m the maid of honor, change your entire life decision because I said so.’” he mocks your voice.

“That’s not what I said-”

“That’s basically what you said.”

You turn away from him before you say something worse. “This is a waste of time.”

“Yeah, walk away again, that’ll fix it.” he mutters.

“Not everything is about us, Steve.” you turn back. “Max is crying and we need to fix it.” 

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“Fine.” you settle. 

The seating chart was way worse. Little white cards were scattered across the table.

“We need to fill the empty seat and rebalance the tables so no one ends up isolated.” you start thinking out loud. 

“What if we move Dustin and Mike to table three? That frees up space here.” Steve leans over the table.

“No.” you simply say.

“No?” 

“That separates them from our group. And they will end up too far away from us.” You explain.

“They’ll survive being at a different table for dinner.” 

“It’s their best friend's wedding.”

“And they’ll still be at his wedding.” Steve shrugs.

“No, Max was very particular about keeping certain groups together.” you shake your head. “Okay,” he says slowly, “but Max also didn’t plan for her aunt to bail last minute, so we kind of have to adapt.”

You ignore that, putting Dustin and Mike at your table like they were before. 

“You’re overthinking it.” he says, reaching for a card. “If I move to table three, that leaves the spot open for-” 

“What? No.” you say.

“Why not?” 

“That doesn’t work.” you say.

Why? Because table three had three single girls who had already been asking about Steve to Max. Because Steve in a suit, sitting at a table full of available women was a thought that made you want to puke. 

“Our table’s already settled. We keep you here.” you give him that excuse. 

“Why do I feel like I just got assigned a seat in kindergarten?” he repeats, amused.

“Maybe because you are acting like a child.” 

“Alright, boss, then what’s your brilliant plan?” he laughs.

“We move Gareth and Jeff to table three, fill the gap there, and keep our group intact.” 

“And you keep me there with you.” he insists.

“What?” you snap when you see that face.

“Nothing, just interesting.” he says, but there was a hint of sarcasm.

“Can you focus?” 

“Oh, I am, I’m focused on how every option somehow ends with me glued to this exact spot.” 

“It’s what Max wanted!”

“Is it?” he tilts his head. “Or is it because you really don’t want me sitting over there?” 

“Oh, trust me, you can move to whichever table you want. I’ll survive.” you say, already a little mad.

“Even with the single girls at that table?” he leans just a little.

You scoff. “Please. Stop flattering yourself.”

“There she is.” he smirks wider.

“What?!”

“That tone. I know that tone, you hate that.” 

“I just don’t think the best man should be sitting with random guests all night.” 

“And now it’s about my duties? Not about me talking to other girls?”

“You can talk to whoever you want. I couldn’t care less.”

“Mmhmm.” he still grins.

“I don’t.” you insist.

“Sure.”

“Why are you obsessed with sitting there anyway?!”

“I’m not, I just think it’s funny that you’re so determined to stop me.” 

“I stop you because they’re bad arrangements. They don’t work!” 

“You’re jealous.” he states. 

“You are so full of yourself.” you roll your eyes. “I’m literally trying to fix a seating chart.”

“And making sure I don’t end up near any available women.”

“You are exhausting.” 

“And you’re obvious.” 

“I’m not jealous. Table three just doesn’t work.” you say, stubbornly. 

“Yeah, okay.” he says with a soft smile still. 

“Are we done with this?” you change the subject.

“Yeah, finished.” 

The night continued with even more chaos. The rehearsal for the wedding was that night, and no one was cooperating. 

“Okay, can we please just run the entrance once without anyone complaining?” Max clapped once to gather attention. 

“I am complaining.” Mike says immediately. “There’s no need to do this, this is stupid.” 

Max, standing at the front with her clipboard, looked like she was one inconvenience away from crying again. 

“Mike, you just have to walk in a straight line. That’s it. You can do that, right?”  you step in, and he just rolls his eyes.

“Stop it!” Eddie yells at Dustin while he’s teasing him. “Max, I’m sorry, I’m not tying my hair for this.” 

Dustin starts laughing hysterically like he just poked him enough times to make him insecure about it. 

“Eddie.” you warn him. 

“I’m serious, I’m not doing it.” he crosses his arms. 

“It’s a formal wedding.” Max looks at him like she could just kill him. 

“And I look good like this, why would I ruin it?” 

“Because it’s not about you!” Max steps closer to Eddie. “Please. Just tie it back for the ceremony.” 

 “I don’t want to risk it.” Eddie explains.

“Risk what?”

“I’m not gonna get any if I look like a dweeb.” he says, dead serious. 

“He’s got a point.” Steve agrees.

“Don’t encourage him.” you look at Steve.

“You are unbelievable.” Max comments.

“Eddie,” Lucas steps in, rubbing his temples, “just tie your hair.” 

“No, I’m sorry.” 

“Fine, we’ll revisit the hair later. Focus on this now.” you cut him off.

“Everyone, positions.” Lucas exhales. “Partners, please-”

“Actually, can we change partners?” Nancy stands, crossing her arms. Jonathan next to her looked equally done. 

“Seriously? Now?” Jonathan protests. 

“Yes, now,” Nancy answers. “I’m not doing this with you pretending everything’s fine.” 

“We’re not pretending anything, we’re just—”

“Walking down the aisle together like a happy couple?” she cuts in. “No, thanks.”

“Nancy, please-” Max rolls her eyes. 

“No, it’s fine. We’ll just switch.” she says quickly. “I’ll walk with Steve instead."

“No.” It comes out instantly from you. Steve walking in with his other ex-girlfriend? His first love? No.

Nancy frowns. “Why not?”

“Because that’s not how it was planned.” 

“It’s a small change—”

“It’s not necessary.”

Steve, a few feet away, goes very still.

“I mean,” Gareth’s voice cuts in. “If she's free, she could walk in with me.” he signals you, but you didn’t even have a chance to react. 

“No.” This time it was Steve, just as sharp as yours. “Not happening.” 

You feel the tension spike. “Okay,” you cut in quickly. “No one is improvising partners. Nancy, you don’t have to pretend anything. You walk with Jonathan, you don’t hold hands, you don’t look at each other if you don’t want to. You just walk. It’s ten seconds.” 

Nancy doesn’t respond, but Jonathan says they can do that,

“Eddie, you can keep your hair down for the reception, but if Max decides she wants it tied for the ceremony, you’ll do it.” 

“Fine, maybe.” he settles.

“That’s progress.” Steve insists. “Okay. From the top.” 

People start moving into place. Crisis contained… for now.

Max starts giving instructions on how she wants the pace and the music. You glance to your side, Steve is already there. “Go.” she gestures. 

You start walking, and for two seconds, it was going well.

Until Steve notices you’re drifting, just slightly. And before you take notice of this, his hand is at your waist firmly, pulling you back into him. 

“What are you doing?” you complain under your breath, still walking. 

“You’re speeding ahead.” he mutters.

“Don’t…” you have to contain your voice and keep it low,  “manhanlde me.” 

“I’m not, I’m guiding you.” 

“I’m walking perfectly fine, you’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.” 

“Oh, please.” He lets out a laugh. 

You scoff, trying to pull slightly out of his hold, but his grip tightens. 

“You were jealous of Nancy.” he whispers. 

“You were jealous of Gareth.” you shot back. 

He just smirks and you reach the end of the aisle. 

“Good, that was good.” Max calls from the front.

By the time the rehearsal wrapped, your friends weren’t fighting anymore. You’re stacking papers for the tasks you still have for tomorrow. 

“Hey.” Gareth smiles at you. “You did good, kept everyone from killing each other.” 

“Barely.” you reply.

He laughs. “Listen, a bunch of us are grabbing dinner now. You should come.” 

“Oh, really?” you hesitate, thinking about it. Until someone calls your name from behind. Steve was walking towards you. 

“I need you.” he says.

“We were just-” Gareth starts but Steve ignores him. 

“It’s about the seating chart again, there’s another problem.” 

“What problem?” you frown.

“Lucas’ cousin just called, he wants to bring a plus one now, at the last minute. We have to fix it before Max sees it and loses it again.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes, now.” 

“That can’t wait an hour?” Gareth steps in. 

“No.” Steve finally looks at him. 

“It really can’t.” you add. “Maybe another day.”

“Okay,” you go back to the seating chart. “If we have a plus one now, we’d have to move someone from table four. But I don’t know where-”

“Or,” Steve says. “I can call him back and tell him he can’t bring a plus one at the last minute.” 

You freeze, slowly turn around. “You didn’t do that before?”

“What?”

“If that was an option, why didn’t you just do that instead of dragging me here?”

“Well, I- I wasn’t the one who talked to him really, it was- uh-” 

“Oh my god, you’re lying. You made it up so I wouldn’t go to dinner with Gareth.” 

“It’s not-”

“You made that whole speech earlier about how I was jealous of the girls at the table, and how I wouldn't let you sit anywhere near them-”

“Because you were-”

“And you just lied to keep me from going out with someone?” 

“Because you were about to leave with him!” he shot back.

“So?! Why do you care?!” 

“Don’t act like you don’t get it.” 

“I don't get it, Steve!”

“He’s been flirting with you all day.” he says frustrated. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch it happen.”

“But it’s wrong when I do it, isn’t it?” you point out. 

“I never said that-”

“You did! You’re jealous, you’re controlling…” you mock his voice. 

“Well, at least I’m not pretending I’m not.” he adds. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you stop him. “We’re not together anymore.” 

“Yeah, I noticed.” 

“This is ridiculous, we have actual problems to fix.” 

August 13th - One day before the wedding.

The next day you get up ready to finish your work. You and Steve meet at the venue, which smelled like roses… red roses. 

Tables were already in place for tomorrow, arrangements being placed one by one. The white theme Max and Lucas had picked up was bleeding out a deep crimson color. It was aggressive.

Two men were arranging a centrepiece for the tables when you approach them.  

“Excuse me, hi. Could you tell me who’s in charge?” 

“Florist’s over there” One of them points. 

“Thank you.” You walk straight past them, Steve trailing a step behind, hands in his pockets, watching.

The florist was checking something off on a clipboard. You stop in front of him.

“Hi, I need to talk to you.” 

He doesn’t even look up at you. “Yes?”

“The order for this wedding was white flowers.” you say.

“No, it’s not. Everything is being set up according to order.” 

“Check the order again.”  you challenge him. 

He looks up at you, doesn’t even check his papers. “Order says red.”

“I’ve seen the contract. It was white roses, white lilies. This entire wedding is built around that color palette.” you fight.

“Are you the bride?” he asks. 

“No, I’m the maid of honor.” 

“Well, miss, you’re clearly mistaken-”

“No, you need to fix this now!” you finally lose it. 

“It’s the day before the wedding,” he says in a condescending tone. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“There is, you sent the wrong order.” you reply.

“You need to check again.”

“I did.”

“Then check once more! Or you won’t get paid.” 

He just smiles. “Right. Okay” He nods slowly. Treats you like you’re bluffing, like you’re just another stressed bridesmaid throwing around empty threats. 

“I’m serious.” you try again. 

“Mmhmm.” he gives you a little hum, dismissing you. 

Behind you, Steve pushes off the pillar, stands beside you, in front of the man. Taller, broader. And the florist noticed.

Steve doesn’t even look at you, his gaze is on this man. “You heard her,” his voice is low. “You don’t fix this, you don’t get paid.” 

Same exact words, but this time, the florist straightens. 

“Well, like I said, the order-”

“Check it again.” Steve cuts in, firm.

“Fine.” he sighs. He flips through the pages of his clipboard, then pauses. “This is for Mayfield?”

“Yes.” you respond.

He clears his throat. “It… looks like there was a mix-up with another order.” 

“Looks like it.” you repeat.

“We’ll, uh- we’ll correct it immediately. We can have the white arrangements here within a few hours. We’ll start replacing everything as soon as they arrive. ” he moves off, already calling his team.

Another problem solved. 

For a moment, neither of you speak. You can feel his eyes on you. He waits for you to talk first, but you stay quiet.

“He’s an asshole.” he breaks the silence.

“It’s fine.” you roll your eyes.

“No, I said your exact same words but he only listened to me.” 

“Then thanks for saving the day…” you finish this conversation and start walking again. “Let’s keep going, we have to keep trying with the cake.”

“I’ve been calling them all morning.” Steve frowns slightly.

“I know.” you say, already grabbing the phone and dialing. 

“Oh, so I’m doing it wrong now?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t have to.”

“I just said I’ll try.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause clearly I’m incapable of making a phone call.”

“Steve, not everything I do is about you.” you exhale, pressing the phone to your ear.

“No, but everything you do is better, right?”

You close your eyes, getting annoyed at him, waiting as the line rang. But nothing. You hang up.

“Wow, great job.” he crosses his arms.

“We’ll have to go there, to the bakery.”

“Now?”

“Yes. We don’t have time to wait around for a call that might never come.” 

“Fine, let’s go.”

The bakery looks a little old. The sign is faded, with chipped paint, the windows needed a repaint.

An old woman stood behind the counter. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. We’re here about a wedding cake. It’s for tomorrow, it’s under Mayfield.” you step forward.

“Oh yes, beautiful design. We’re finishing it today.” she nods.

“Okay, great. Because we’ve been trying to call, the bride was worried.” Steve explains.

“Oh, our phone broke a few days ago, we’re waiting for someone to fix it. But don’t worry, the cake will be delivered tomorrow morning, everything is on schedule.”

“Okay, thank you.” you smile.

“Of course, dear.”

“Well,” Steve says. “That was easy.” 

“For once.” you nod. Then you turn toward the elevator to head back down. The doors slid shut once you entered it.

“Would that mean we fixed everything already?” Steve asks, pressing the button.

“If everything goes according to plan from now on, then yes. Miracles really do-” 

The elevator jolts, then stops, the lights flicker, nothing else moves. 

“Oh, no.” 

Steve presses buttons again, all of them, but nothing. 

“Don’t tell me we’re stuck.” you cover your face with your hands.

He keeps hitting the emergency button. “...Great.” 

“This is just great.” you sit on the floor. 

“It’s an old building, someone will notice.” Steve joins you on the floor.

“When? In an hour? Two? What if no one comes up here for the rest of the day?” 

“They will.” 

“What if we miss the rehearsal dinner? The wedding-?”

“You’re being dramatic.” he stops you. “You’re jumping straight to the worst possible scenario like you always do.” 

“I’m thinking ahead.” 

“You’re overthinking. We’re trapped in an elevator, not in a burning building.” 

“You don’t get it.” you shake your head.

“No, I do.” he says sharper now. “You always do this. You get into panic mode so easily, it’s exhausting. It’s one of the worst things about you, you make everything bigger than it is, you stress so much about things that haven’t even happened yet, and then-” he stops, too late.

You don’t say anything, just look down. And something about your expression, about the hurt in your face, made him realize he went too far.

“Hey…” he says in a softer tone. No response. “I’m sorry, I took it too far. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“It’s fine.” you whisper, still not looking at him. “Can we just not… do this right now?”

He nods, and time stretches as you sit in silence. You stay like you were, back against the wall, eyes fixed on the floor as the minutes passed. 

He whispers your name. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s true.”

“That you’re exhausting?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” you shrug.

“No, no. That’s not true.” he repeats. “I just said it because I was frustrated, not because it’s true.”

“Steve-”

“Let me finish. I hate when you get like that, when you start thinking ten steps ahead and you get stuck in your own head. Not because it makes you exhausting, but because it hurts you.”

You stay looking at him, but you stay silent. 

“I’ve seen it. You get so worked up over things that haven’t even happened yet, and you carry them like they're already real. And I hate that. Not you, just that you get tangled in that.” 

“It’s fine, Steve-”

“No, no. You’re amazing, look how fixed everything just to keep Max from stressing. You think ahead, and you care so much. I’ve always liked that about you." he continues. 

“That’s the first sweet thing you’ve said to me since we got here.” you notice.

“Yeah, I guess it is. I’m sorry, for all of it.”

“I’m not exactly innocent here.” you shake your head.

“Still.”

“No, I kinda started it.” you insist. “It just hurt. Seeing you again. I thought I would be fine, but I wasn't.”

“I get that. I got way more hurt than I expected, and I decided it’s be a great idea to be an asshole back.” he admits.

“It’s a great strategy.” you chuckle.

“I know, really mature.” he laughs too.

“I’m sorry too.” 

“So, we’re good now?” he asks.

“Yeah, we’re good.” you smile.

“Still stuck in an elevator.” he groans. 

The rehearsal dinner is therefore different. There are no more fights, no more snapping, and no need to win every conversation. 

Twenty minutes later, someone found you. They helped to open the doors with tools and finally, you could get out. 

You stand by your table, getting a drink. Across the room, Steve is talking to Dustin, laughing. The suit he’s wearing makes it impossible for you to take your eyes off him, his hair looks perfect like it always does. 

You can’t shake the thought of wondering when did this happen. Him across the room from you, his hands in his pockets instead of on your waist. 

What if you never broke up? What if you took better care of you two? 

You’d be by his side, his touch on you at all times, maybe a hand on your waist, or holding yours. He’d pull you in from time to time to give you a kiss. You’d be complimenting each other and blushing every five minutes. 

But instead, you’re left fantasizing about it. 

August 14th - The day of the wedding. 

And little did you know, Steve was doing the same thing from his side of the room. 

“Tell me I don’t look like a dork.” Eddie stands in front of you after you help him to pull his hair back neatly. 

“You look just fine.” you say.

“You could look worse.”  Steve comments. 

“Thanks, man.” he says sarcastically.

“Stop it,” you smack Steve in the arm. “You look good, it actually works.”

“And you can take it out the second we leave the church.” Steve adds. 

“Fine.” 

Across the room, Nancy and Jonathan are still fighting. 

“It would make more sense, we could switch partners and walk at ease.” Nancy insists, and before you can open your mouth to complain, Steve beats you to it. 

“No. It’s not happening. Just respect the couples.” 

“We’ll just do what we planned.” Jonathan comments.

“Great.” you say. 

You stand in your positions. The music started. 

“Ready?” Steve asks you with a smile.

“Yeah.” you nod.

You step into place, and then start walking. Steve’s hand rests at your waist again, and you let him, you even lean into it.

“You look stunning.” he murmurs under his breath. You keep looking forward, but a small smile tugs at your lips. 

“You look really handsome. Way too handsome, it’s annoying.” you whisper back.

He huffs a quiet laugh. 

You reach the end of the aisle in silence, but with his hand even tighter on your waist. Then you step apart. 

When the preacher starts talking after Max walks in, Steve has a hard time focusing. He tries to keep his eyes on Lucas, on Max, but you’re right there. 

Then, the reception is louder. You barely had time to look around that Eddie already grabs you. 

“You said I could take it down after the ceremony.”

“Alright, come here.” 

“Careful- ow-” he complains.

“Stop moving.” you tell him. “Okay, now you look good.” 

“Yeah okay,” he runs his hands through his hair. “This is better.” 

Steve was standing in front of you, laughing at the way you were practically attacking Eddie. 

“Alright, Harrington. Let’s go.” he turns to Steve. 

“Where?”

“Bridesmaid table.” Eddie says like it’s obvious.

“Go have fun.” you say, swallowing the jealousy. 

“...I'll go later.” Steve says. 

“What? Why?” Eddie frowns. “That’s literally the point of being here.” 

“I’m good for now.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” He runs straight to Gareth. “Come on, man. Bridesmaid table.” 

“Actually,” Gareth looks at you. “I was hoping to steal you for a dance first.” 

“Oh… that’s nice, but-” it takes you by surprise.

“Come on, one dance.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him beside you.

“You should go with Eddie. He’s been waiting all day for this.” you say.

“That’s true, I have.” Eddie nods immediately. 

“Alright, later then?” he asks.

“Maybe.” you answer.

“Dance with me?” Steve asks, extends his hand.

“Don’t ditch me, come on.” Eddie grabs him and walks. 

There a moment of quietness between Steve and you where you look around the room.

You laugh softly. “Really?”

“Yeah, come on.” he smiles and you take his hand. 

U2 is playing, “With or Without you”. The partners are dancing slowly on the dance floor. 

One of Steve’s hands finds your waist, the other takes yours slowly. You rest your head on his shoulder, your fingers are loosely intertwined. You just move, simply. 

“You know what’s a little rude?” he talks.

“What is?” you look up at him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in this wedding, the others don’t stand a chance.” 

“Don’t say that.” you let out a soft laugh.

“I’m serious.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” you smile. “Max looks perfect.” 

“She does,” he agrees. “But to me, you're better.” 

You smile at him. “You always look good. But tonight is a bit much.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he laughs.

You hum. “It’s almost unfair.”

“I’ll try to tone it down next time.” he jokes.

You laugh. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you a little closer, you rest your head on his chest again. 

Steve’s chest felt like it might actually give out. 

“Hey,” he whispers. “Can we… go outside for a minute? Need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” you nod.

Once outside, the night was cooler and quieter, the noise from the party stayed behind doors. You wrap your arms around yourself, Steve stops pacing and gives you his suit jacket. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “...I don't really know how to start this.” 

“It’s okay, however you can.”

“I’ve been trying to find the words all day, and everytime I think I’ve got it, it just sounds stupid in my head.” 

“It won’t.” you say quietly.

“This weekend’s been a mess.” he starts. “Like, us. The way we’ve been acting, the fights… it fucked me up more than I expected. I thought I was over it, or over you enough to handle this. But I’m not, I’m not over you.”

You stay quiet, deciding to let him talk first. Also because your breath is caught from everything he’s confessing. 

“And all day today, during the ceremony, at dinner last night, and- fuck, even in the elevator- all I could think about was everything I should’ve done differently. I keep going every fight, every moment where I could’ve said something else, or stayed, tried harder, not let you walk away.”

His eyes start tearing up. “I just let it happen, I let us fall apart like it was inevitable or something. And now I’m here, all I can think is that I should have never let you go. I don’t think I’ll ever forget about you.”

Your vision is already blurred too. You blink fast, trying to stop it, but it was too late. 

“Great, now you’re gonna ruin my makeup.” you wipe the tears quickly. 

He lets out a small laugh. “Sorry.”

“I spent so long on this.” you add, trying to sound annoyed.

“Let me help-” 

“No, it’s fine, I just… I miss you too.” you give up on trying to hold it together. “I didn’t even realize how much until I saw you again and- and- suddenly I had to watch you walk in here, looking like that-” a laugh escapes you.

“And I just kept thinking, ‘great, now I have to sit here and watch him flirt with every beautiful girl and act like I’m completely fine with it.’ And I was jealous and annoyed. I wasn’t ready to let you go like that.”

You look up at him. “Steve, the worst thing I did to us was not give us a chance. I just decided it was too much and I left. And now all I can think about is how you deserved another chance.”

Steve steps closer. “...Is it too late? To give me that second chance, right now.”

You shake your head. “No.”

That was all he needed to close the distance immediately. His hand came to your face, thumb brushing away the tears, and he kissed you. 

You melt on him just as fast, your hands grip his shoulders and pull him closer. The music and noise from inside fades completely. Your hands move up to tug on his hair as he hugs your waist tighter. 

When you pull away, you barely move too far from each other. His thumb brushes under your eye again. “Careful, your makeup.”

“You already ruined it.” you joke. 

“You still look really good.” 

“You’re biased.” 

“Completely.” he smiles.

"About what?" Kurt asked, and you didn't miss the tiny bit of fear behind his eyes. He was always scared you were going to break up with him.

"I just..." You hesitated, you knew he wouldn't take it well. "Have you ever thought about maybe... seeing a therapist?"

You may as well have told him you hated him and never wanted to see him again.

His spoon clattered loudly in the bowl, and his entire face fell, his body stiffening tightly. "No. I don't need therapy, there's nothing wrong with me."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with you... I just..." You sighed. "Kurt, honey. You need to speak to someone."

"No, I don't!" He snapped, standing up so suddenly the dining chair fell over, making you jump slightly. He didn't pick it up, instead taking a few steps away from you.

"There's nothing wrong with me." He repeated, more to himself than to you.

"I didn't say that—!"

"No!" Kurt shouted, slamming his hand onto the table. It made you jump again. "I said, there's nothing wrong with me." His voice was cold, nothing like the sweet angel who held you last night.

"Kurt, stop it." You stood up too, never afraid of him. "It's not admitting there's something wrong with you, it's admitting that you need-"

"I don't need anything. I don't need therapy, I don't need my parents, and I don't need you!" He listed off, counting his fingers. Your heart broke in your chest.

"What?" You whispered, feeling your eyes burn. "You- You don't need me? Is that what this is?" You asked in disbelief.

Kurt didn't even seem to notice what he had said, and how it had affected you. In his mind, you were saying there was something wrong with him, and there absolutely wasn't.

"I don't need you. I never did, and I never will. So you don't get to make me feel like there's something wrong with me, because I already said there wasn't."

You didn't even know what to say. You had planned your wedding in your head with him. You wanted to be with him forever. You let him into your home, introduced him to your parents, took him to Chicago... And this was what he thought of you?

But this wasn't your Kurt, you knew that for a fact. His eyes were dark, his features sharp. This was the Kurt that needed help, not the sweet boy you loved. Your baby was in there somewhere, and he didn't mean what he was saying. The rational part of your brain knew that, but damn did it hurt.

"Kurt, stop." You said firmly, grabbing his forearms tightly. He didn't fight you, didn't try to shrug you off, he just scowled.

"There's nothing wrong with me." He mumbled a final time, looking at the ground, too ashamed to meet your eye.

A couple of days passed in stony silence. You wanted to talk to him, wanted to reach out and hold him tightly, to tell him you loved him and it was going to be okay. But the stubborn part of you refused to let you crack first.

You watched him grovel. Let him prepare food for you, but watch you make your own because you didn't want his. Let him shower for extra long while he waited for the bathroom door to open and for you to slip in beside him. Let him set up a movie night that you'd never attend.

Kurt tried to talk to you, to make things right. He felt sick to his stomach every day as he recalled the way he spoke to you and the look on your face. He regretted it deeply, he didn't mean any of it. He hoped you knew it wasn't him talking, it was the twisted part of himself. The thing that was wrong with him. He had never meant to hurt you.

He'd make you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then scoop everything into the trash can with a heavy heart after you refused to touch anything he made, opting to cook for yourself.

He'd purposefully keep the bathroom door unlocked, his eyes flickering over to it every couple of seconds, convincing himself that every noise he heard from outside was you getting ready to join him. You never did.

He left notes around the apartment inviting you to movie nights, bought your favourite snacks, and then laid them out nicely in your fancy bowls. You never joined him, and he'd see his notes screwed up and in the trash. He'd watch the movies alone, not touching the snacks. He didn't think he deserved them.

On the fourth day, you woke up at around 3:00am to the sound of soft sniffling. You were laid in your bed, pushed right against the wall so that you could be as far away from Kurt as possible. It hurt you to sleep like this, you didn't enjoy it. You wanted Kurt laid on your chest, or his arms wrapped tightly around you, how things were supposed to be.

Kurt was crying, silent tears streaming down his temples as he stared at the ceiling. He hadn't slept a wink all night, and had barely slept for the past four days. He had promised you the only way was up, only to crash and burn your beautiful relationship into the ground, and he had no idea how to fix it. No idea how to get his girl back. No clue if he even could.

The sound of his crying tugged at your heartstrings. You wanted to pull him into you and say 'forget it', to tell him how much you loved him, to kiss him senseless until you both forgot what had even happened. But you couldn't do that, you didn't know if he deserved your sympathy.

You felt the mattress dip as Kurt shifted, turning onto his side. His hand trailed gently over your back, before dipping under the hem to feel the soft skin. You should kick him in the leg, should tell him to knock it off. But you couldn't. He clearly craved your touch, and no matter how mad you were, you could never deny him that. Not when he was taking it so sweetly.

"I'm sorry." Kurt whispered, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. His fingers came out of your shirt, gently brushing through the back of your hair and against the nape of your neck. "I love you." He whispered again.

You noticed how his touch was tentative and gentle. He could pull you into him and kiss you while you slept, but he didn't. He touched you very timidly, very carefully, like he didn't think he deserved to.

"M' sorry." Kurt whispered again, letting out a quiet sob at the end. That was all your heart could take, he was always going to be your sweet boy no matter what had happened.

You sighed, opening your eyes and rolling over. "Honey..." You whispered, wiping the tears off of his face instinctively.

Kurt looked down shamefully. "I think there's something wrong with me." He whispered, still sobbing slightly, "I'll go to therapy."

You caressed his face, not denying what he had said but not making him feel bad about it. "That's good, baby. That's really good."

"I do need you. I always have and I always will... I shouldn't have said it, I'm so stupid-" He began wiping aggressively at his face, a brief attempt at causing mild pain.

You took his hands gently, allowing none of that. "Hey, hey... You're not stupid. It was so wrong, and so mean, but I love you. I love you." You made sure to repeat those three sweet words firmly, making sure that they went into his head and he understood them clearly.

Kurt nodded, squeezing your hands. He couldn't believe you were being so forgiving, and neither could you, really. "I love you too. I promise I need you. I didn't mean anything I said... I just always expect you to break up with me, then I have to go back to California and tell my mom she was right and that you were too good to be true and that it was all my fault-" He rambled, getting upset again, fresh tears falling down his face.

"Kurt, stop. Stop it, honey." You gently put your hand over his mouth for a second until he stopped talking, then you removed it. "I said I wanted to marry you, and I meant it."

Kurt nodded, clinging onto your hand like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, he absolutely had to stay grounded before he freaked out again.

"You need help, baby. But i'll be there the whole time- We can find a therapist you like, no matter how long it takes. It has to be perfect for you."

Surprisingly, Kurt kept nodding, like deep down he knew he needed it too. You stopped talking for a second, smiling gently at him.

"In sickness and in health, right?"

"I'm not sick."

"You are, honey. And that's okay, I promise. You're gonna get all better then we can get married. How does that sound?" You spoke gently, trying to fill his ears and his mind with beautiful thoughts that you knew he wanted to hear. You stroked your spare hand over his head and through his hair, like a puppy. He just kept nodding.

"I need you." He whispered, reaching his hand out tentatively, his fingertips grazing your shirt, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to initiate anything. "I need you, please..."

You shuffled closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you fully. "I know, baby. I'm here."

"I'm so sorry." He whispered one more time for safekeeping, kissing your forehead gently.

He would never understand the patience and leniency you had with him, but he would never not be grateful for it.

It was going to be okay.

“I'm the dad and Steve's the mom, right?”

“Obviously,” Robin responded to your playful words. “But no time for joking right now. What I'm trying to say is that I hate being stuck in the middle.”

You wanted to tell her that that wasn’t the case at all— you and Steve weren’t trying to make her choose a side, and you weren’t telling her that she could only be friends with one of you— but you didn’t say any of that because she was pretty much right, she was caught in the middle of your and Steve’s breakup. 

The three of you had been best friends, and it was a trio that was forged through long days of slinging ice cream. And even when you and Steve started dating at the end of that summer, things really didn’t change between the three of you all that much. Robin was happy about your and Steve's relationship because she loved bragging that she had seen it coming from a mile away, and you’d all still hang out constantly and never once did she feel like a third wheel. 

It had all been so perfect. 

Until it wasn’t. And now everything had changed. 

“And I get it,” Robin continued. “I get why you guys are broken up, and I understand the reasoning behind it and all of that. But, is there any way that things could maybe go back to how they used to be before you leave for college?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted honestly. You had no idea if you could actually let things go back to how they were. After being so in love with Steve— there had even genuinely been moments where you considered a “forever” with him— the thought of just becoming his friend again felt a little too weird and a lot too depressing to you. 

Robin sighed but ultimately nodded, and you two went back to watching the movie playing on the TV. 

You felt grateful that she didn’t bring up the promise that you and Steve made to her when you first started dating— how if things somehow didn’t work out between you and him, you’d all still be able to stay close friends. You never once thought that you and Steve would break up, and you especially never thought that you’d end up in a place where all you wanted to do was avoid him, so in the moment, it had felt so easy and like a no-brainer to make that promise to her. It was a promise that you now viewed as naive and so stupidly hopeful. 

However, at the end of the day, it was still a promise, and even though Robin hadn’t brought it up, it was all you could think about for the rest of the night. And it became the reason why you decided to call Steve for the first time in two weeks when you got home that night. 

It went entirely against your plan of quitting him cold turkey— no talking to him, no seeing him, absolutely no contact with him whatsoever. But, you fought the urge you immediately had to hang up the phone after you finished dialing his number and it started ringing. 

“Hello?” 

“We need to do something with Robin,” You said, skipping past any and all greetings and niceties. 

“I’m hanging out with her tomorrow,” Steve responded, and you easily picked up on the confusion in his voice. “And didn’t you two just hang out tonight?”

“No, I mean together. We need to hang out with her together,” You told him as you started mindlessly twirling the phone cord around your index finger. “She hates how different things are now, and I think we should show her that we can be… okay around one another.”

“Okay” seemed like the best, and only, word to use in this context; it wasn’t too much. You definitely felt like you couldn’t say friends or anything else remotely close to that. 

“I'm thinking we do a movie at The Hawk and then dinner at the diner,” You continued. 

“Classic Friday night,” Steve responded.

“Exactly,” You said, nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

It had been a staple among the three of you, and you could only allow yourself to inwardly admit how much you really missed those nights. Going to the movies, spending hours at the diner afterward, dropping Robin off at home before her midnight curfew, and then you and Steve heading to his place, falling into his bed, and talking about anything and everything until the sun came up. Your heart ached harshly in your chest the more you thought about it, and the more you thought about how a night like that would never happen again. 

You cleared your throat and willed away the feeling in your chest. “So, yeah, movie and diner. You in?”

“Of course, anything for Robin,” He told you. “And, I guess, we did kind of promise her that things would stay okay between all of us if we did ever break up.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking about too,” You responded, and the conversation came to a quiet end. All too quickly, an awkwardness that felt impossible to ignore started to linger; the harsh reminder of just how different everything was between you and him. You immediately wanted to push that feeling away. “Um, I should go. I’ll see you Friday, I guess.”

“Okay, yeah. See you Friday.”

You let out a sigh when you placed the phone back on its hook. A wave of nervousness washed over you, but you pretended that everything was fine and that spending time with Steve for the first time since the breakup would be completely fine too. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I know this is a pity hangout, but I'm still having fun.”

You shook your head at Robin’s words. “It’s not a pity hangout.” 

She gave you a look that said that she didn’t believe you in the slightest. “So you two decided to set this up because you wanted to and not because of all that stuff I said a couple nights ago?”

“Yes, exactly,” You said, and then took another sip of your milkshake so that you could break eye contact with her. 

Before she could say anything in response to that, Steve came back from the bathroom and slid back into the booth that you three had been occupying for the last half an hour; you and Robin on one side and him on the other. 

“Okay, it hit me while I was in there. It actually makes so much sense why that guy ended up being the killer,” He said, referring to the movie you all had just watched. “When the first girl was murdered, he got to the scene of the crime way too fast.”

Robin let out a laugh. “You had this groundbreaking epiphany while you were in the bathroom?”

“Yes, I do my best thinking in there sometimes,” Steve responded with a shrug, which only made her laugh harder, and you were unable to bite back your own amused smile. He only playfully rolled his eyes in response. 

“Honestly, the movie kinda sucked,” Robin said when her laughter subsided, and you and Steve hummed in agreement. “Ooh, you know what we need to rewatch again? A Nightmare on Elm Street.”

You groaned. “No. Can we please stay away from horror for a little while? I need to remind my brain that happy things still exist.”

Steve gave you an amused smile. “What’s your suggestion instead? Watching The Muppet Movie for the millionth time?” 

“Joke’s on you because I was actually gonna say The Muppets Take Manhattan,” You said, and then teasingly stuck your tongue out at him because it felt like second nature to do so, and he laughed.  

Somehow, this entire night had felt weirdly okay and actually somewhat easy thus far; like there truly was a way for the three of you to go back to being that “trio” again. You tried not to let yourself think too far ahead, though. This was only one night, and you knew that it wouldn’t be able to change everything for the better. You simply just wanted to live in this really good moment. 

“Wait, that would actually be a good idea for a movie night,” Robin said. “We all watch whatever our favorite movies from childhood were.” 

A conversation started from there, where you all talked about movies you loved when you were kids. You made fun of Steve’s childhood love for the Willy Wonka movie just like he made fun of you with The Muppets, and you both refused to believe Robin when she said that her favorite movie when she was younger was Taxi Driver.

“I had impeccable taste, even as a kid,” She had said, and you rolled your eyes while Steve threw a stray fry at her. 

After spending what was definitely way too long at the diner, the three of you were back in Steve’s car, and he started the quick drive to Robin’s house; she was the closest to the diner, and even you could recognize that it wouldn’t make sense to drop you off first, like when he had picked you up last at the start of the night. However, you had prematurely planned for this; asking Robin yesterday if you could spend the night at her house after the diner, and she, of course, said yes. 

This night with Steve had surprisingly gone okay— pretty much better than just okay— but that didn’t mean that you wanted to be left alone with him, even if it would only be for a ten-minute car ride. You could just imagine how quickly things would fall into awkwardness if you two didn’t have Robin to be the perfect buffer. Without her, you couldn’t even imagine what this night would’ve been like. Without her, this night wouldn’t have existed. 

“Oh, I meant to mention this earlier, but there’s been a slight change of plans,” Robin said when Steve was parked in front of her house, and you started unbuckling your seatbelt to get out too. She turned around to look at you. “You can’t sleep over tonight. My mom is, um, being really weird about… my room. I haven’t cleaned it in forever. It’s a mess. And she doesn’t want me having anyone stay over because of that. So yeah. Sorry.”

“Robin,” You looked at her as if she were insane. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious. You know how my mother is,” She told you and then opened the passenger side door. “Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. Get her home safe, Harrington. Bye.”

Before you could say anything, she was closing the car door behind her and practically running up her driveway and to her front porch steps, giving you two one final quick wave before heading inside. 

“She’s unbelievable,” You mumbled as you finished unbuckling your seatbelt and then opened the back door.

Steve became entirely confused by your actions. “You’re walking home?”

“No, it just feels too weird being in the back when the front seat is open,” You answered and then moved to the passenger seat. You met Steve’s eyes just for a second and then looked away.

“That could’ve been great practice for when I decide to pivot into my next job as a cab driver,” He said as he started driving, making a left turn at the end of Robin’s street and heading in the direction of your house.

You wanted to laugh at what you knew was a joke, but all you could focus on was how jarring it felt that he wasn’t turning right toward his place, like what would usually happen on these types of Friday nights. 

And it felt weird being in his passenger seat too. It no longer felt right to adjust the seat to how you liked it, or turn up the radio, or jokingly change the station to a country one because hearing the sound of a banjo always made him laugh for some reason. It only felt okay to sit with your hands in your lap and stare out the window at the houses passing by. Somehow, it was being here in his passenger seat, and feeling like a stranger within it, that reminded you of what you and Steve now were to each other.

You took another quick look at him. “Did you actually think I would’ve rather walked home instead of being alone in a car with you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” 

“I don’t hate you, Steve.” 

“I know, but before tonight, you had made it really clear that we should never talk to each other again,” He responded, making another turn at another stop sign. “The only reason we hung out tonight was because of Robin.”

That was entirely true, but that was the last thing you wanted to talk about in this moment. 

“If anything, you should hate me. I’m the one who’s leaving.”

He immediately shook his head. “It would be really messed up if I were mad at you for going to college.” 

“Well, I mean, you did break up with me because of it,” You responded, which made Steve sigh. 

“Saying it like that makes it sound really fucked up.”

By the end of that hour-long breakup conversation two weeks ago, it had ended up feeling like a mutual thing, but at the end of the day, it was still Steve who had brought it up in the first place. 

“What other way is there to say it?” You weren’t trying to be mean to him in this moment, but you suddenly worried that the bluntness of your words made it come off that way, especially when he didn’t say anything in response to you at first, and a silence took over the car. 

“It was stupid,” Steve said softly, filling the prevailing quiet. “Probably one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.” 

A part of you wanted to roll your eyes at his words, while the other part of you felt a tiny sliver of hope that inadvertently made your heart race. It was your turn to sigh. “Do you actually mean that?” 

When he broke up with you, he had talked about how long-distance relationships never worked and how they only prolonged the inevitable and always made the couple hate each other. Honestly, everything he was saying sounded like something you would have said; you’d always been the more logical thinker. However, when it came to you and Steve, you always inadvertently led with your heart over your head. 

“Yes, I wish I had never said it, but I just thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Because long-distance relationships never work?” You said, reminding him of what had been his main point when he broke things off. 

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Because you’re going to college and you’re gonna do great things, and I don’t wanna hold you back.”

That was not at all what you expected to hear from him.

It was so honest and vulnerable, and you suddenly saw that last conversation you two had entirely different, and all you could now do was replay the whole thing in your head.  

Barely a minute later, Steve was pulling up in front of your house. However, there was absolutely no way that you were getting out of his car now, not when he just dropped what felt equivalent to a bomb on you. 

“What?” You turned to look at him, finally responding to his previous words. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t— I didn’t want things to get to the point where you started choosing me over really important opportunities,” Steve answered, meeting your eyes. 

For a second, all you could do was blink at him. You wanted to understand his words, and you wanted to fully see his point of view, you really did, but it was too hard to think rationally right then because you just felt so confused. 

“Nothing’s even happened yet. I’m not even there yet,” You told him, trying to keep your voice calm and steady, but it felt damn near impossible. “You were thinking about problems that don’t exist.”

“Once I started thinking about it, I couldn’t not think about it,” He responded. “And then I just wanted to rip off the band-aid, if that makes sense. End it before us being together started ruining things for you.”

You looked away from him then, slumping back in your seat. “You should’ve told me the truth, Steve. Not some bullshit reasons about long-distance relationships failing.”

“It was stupid,” Steve said, repeating the words that pretty much started this conversation in the first place. 

“It was,” You agreed, still staring straight ahead at your dark street. 

“And I’m sorry for lying to you. I wish I had just told you the truth instead of being a scared idiot,” He said, and you could only nod in response at first. 

There was too much running through your mind right then. It was a lot of contradictory thoughts and feelings that only confused you and went against everything that you’d convinced yourself was true over the last two weeks.

The breakup was hard, almost too hard, so you had told yourself that you needed to do the one thing that would be “easy” and force your brain to accept it; your heart was a completely different story, but you figured it would catch up eventually. However, now it was as if your head didn’t know what to do or think or feel, and your heart stupidly wanted to be completely truthful in this moment. 

“We would’ve figured everything out,” You told him after a few beats of silence. “I honestly think we could’ve made anything work. Long distance, random life changes, whatever. And I know that’s probably naive of me to say, but I really did believe in us.” You shook your head at yourself. “Somehow, we completely switched roles. You became the logical one and I became the hopeless romantic.”

“I don’t wanna be the logical one anymore. I tried it out and completely fucked everything up.”

“It’s…” You tried to figure out exactly what you wanted to say. There was so much you could’ve said right then, but your thoughts felt too scattered to form a coherent sentence. “It’s okay.”

The conversation came to its natural stopping point there. You didn’t know what else to say or do in this moment. This talk felt unfinished, but you had no idea how to finish it in a way that would make everything feel like it was wrapped up in a pretty little bow. In a perfect world, you and Steve would easily make up from here, pick up right where things left off, and pretend as if the last two weeks hadn’t happened. But, the world you two lived in wasn’t perfect, so you silently figured that maybe it would make more sense if you simply just left things as they now were. 

You started unbuckling your seatbelt. “It’s late. I’m gonna go.”

“You sure?” Steve asked, and you only nodded instead of saying anything. 

You pushed open the car door. “Night, Steve.”

“Night,” He responded softly and then proceeded to watch you walk away from his car. 

You were heading up your front porch steps, moments away from unlocking your door and heading inside, when Steve made the impulsive decision to unbuckle his seatbelt and run after you. 

“Wait,” His voice slightly startled you, and you turned around. He was racing up your steps to catch up to you, and you were about to ask him what he was doing, but he started speaking before the question could even form on your lips. “I think you’re right. No, scratch that, actually, I know you’re right. I want us to work, and I know we can, I really do. And I know you were speaking in past tense, so maybe you don’t believe in us anymore, but I still do. I’m such an idiot for overthinking everything, and I’m so sorry for not being honest about what I was thinking. If I could go back and do things completely different, I would, one thousand percent. I love you so goddamn much, and I don’t think that will ever change. And I know it’s my fault that we’re in this position in the first place, but I hope I didn’t ruin things so terribly that I can’t fix it. Because I really want to fix this—”

You cut off his rambling with a kiss; your hand found his cheek, and you slotted your lips against his. Steve reciprocated immediately, not wasting a second to kiss you back, even though he was slightly surprised by the action. 

It was the exact thing your heart needed in this moment, and it is what it had been aching and yearning for these past two weeks. 

Leaving things as they were made sense because it was technically easier, but it was far from what you actually wanted, and hearing Steve’s rambling apologies and how much he wanted to fix things only made you want to show him that you agreed completely; you didn’t want to give up on you two either. 

Kissing Steve felt like second nature to you, as if absolutely no time had passed since the last time his lips were on yours. In a way, it felt like coming back home.

When you pulled away, you met Steve’s eyes and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked, eyes searching yours with a hopeful look on his face, as if that kiss hadn’t just said it all. 

You nodded at his words, and he didn’t hesitate to pull you in for a hug. His arms tightened around you, and you inwardly sighed in contentment at the feeling. You felt at ease in Steve’s arms, and all you wanted to do was grab his hand and lead him inside your house. Instead, though, you decided to savor this moment because there was no need to rush things; you two had all of the time in the world.

“I hope you know that Robin’s gonna say that this is all her doing,” You said, words slightly muffled because your face was buried in Steve’s neck, but he heard you clearly. 

From the moment Robin left you alone in the car with Steve, you knew exactly what she was trying to do, and you were now grateful for her abrupt plan; even though it had been very risky and could’ve potentially made things worse. 

Steve laughed a little at your words, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “Oh yeah, and she’s never gonna let us forget this. This will definitely become her new favorite story to tell everyone.” 

You laughed too and pulled back so you could look up at him. “Definitely.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Maybe it was different, because you weren’t someone that he threw away after a few weeks, surprisingly, he took it slowly, and it felt like a joke that everyone was in on but you at first, but then you saw how genuine he was being, it was gentler than you’d ever seen him.

He wasn’t straight up with you at the start, barging into your life unexpectedly and making you his girlfriend the day after, he took it at a steady pace that you both liked, that was normal. His normal was different for a while until you.

Dates were something that he brought forward to you, in an awkwardly manner at first.

His eyes flicked over you, trying to make himself aware of if it was the right time, if he was reading the situation well. “How do you feel about restaurants?” He asks, providing no other context at first.

An amused laugh left your mouth, closing your locker door and leaning against it. “Pretty good. I go often.”

He nodded, opening his mouth more to gasp for air than to speak. “With who?”

You squinted at him, trying to figure out where all these questions are coming from. “My friends.”

“Ah. Right, yeah, of course, of course.” He nodded, pulling another laugh from you. “So, would that be something you’re interested in going to with me?”

Your arms tightly hold your folders to your chest. “That sounds very sweet, Steve. Yes.”

He grinned down at you in a way that you’d never seen before. “Does Saturday sound good to you?”

For the sake of it, you decided to mess with him, purely for his reaction. “I’m sorry, Steve, I’ll be studying for the English exam then.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t huff or try bribe you into it, he simply nods. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m kidding.” You laughed. “Saturday sounds perfect.”

He shook his head, amused, brushing his thumb over your shoulder. “I’ll see you then, beautiful.”

Beautiful. You didn’t want to fall into it too quickly, but God, he was tempting.

The dates continued, one after the other, pretty much a weekly thing that you planned fairly. He would arrive in front of your house in his beamer a few minutes early, and you weren’t sure if that was to impress you and show you that he was capable, but it worked.

You weren’t the type to do this with boys, so it was all new to you. He started off with simple talk, asking you questions, not too personal, but things he couldn’t see by simply looking at you. It didn’t seem too awkward, at least not as awkward as you had seen before. There was the occasional long silence as you thought about what to say next, but he easily filled that in.

That’s the point you found out about Nancy, after a couple of dates, and you weren’t sure in the moment if you were going to regret asking him the question, but curiosity got to the best of you.

You were gently blowing over your food to cool it down, trying to get to know more about him. “So, you have lots of girls lining up for you, huh?” You joked, but you really wanted to know more, know what you were possibly competing against.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, glancing down at his fork, anywhere but into your eyes. “Yeah. Well, did. I’m not like that, not anymore.”

“Oh. Really?” You asked, chewing on your steak.

“It’s not the most fun life to live, I have no idea if that’s a shock or not. Probably not.” He said more to himself like he’s still trying to convince himself. “I came to a realisation.”

“When did you come to the realisation?” You asked, anything to keep the conversation steady.

His eyes slowly drifted to yours, looking unsure, like he could mess up at any moment and ruin weeks of effort and pace. “My last relationship. I guess it was a little longer than the others I had been in, so it was a little different.”

You’d heard about him and Nancy plenty of times, and you had an idea on how it had ended through friends of friends. It clearly wasn’t an easy break up for him.

“How did that change you?” You asked.

He sighed. “I mean, the breakup part wasn’t something I had experienced before in other relationships. It was definitely harsh. I just don’t want to be that person anymore, I want to take things slowly and I want to do it right.”

Hearing those words should’ve been the first obvious factor that it was about to go downhill, and anybody else would probably be sprinting out the doors. ‘I want to do it right’ blared louder than his other words, completely dulling down how it was a harsh breakup. It hadn’t been too long ago since they broke up, 4 months, and you weren’t sure if that was long enough to think through everything at all.

“That makes sense, I’m glad, Steve.” You said with a warm smile.

His lips twitched into a smile. “Just to let you know, I’m taking you very seriously.”

Those words felt foreign to you, because a boy that wasn’t very serious about relationships was telling you he was being serious about you.

“I’m taking you serious too.” You hummed, swallowing your steak.

That was the first mental strike, to him and to yourself, because bringing up past relationships on a date probably wasn’t the best idea. Up until that point, seeing him felt like hearing the first firework on New Year’s Day, refreshing, new, but he wasn’t so truthful with his words. He clearly liked to throw them about, whether that was purposely or cluelessly, it started to become very obvious.

The further your relationship went, the more people you met, and you were automatically expected to turn up to meet with his friends. It became normal to you, like you had always known Steve and his friends, and it was the confirmation that this was serious to him.

Although he was serious about you, you weren’t sure to what extent he was still emotionally wounded by Nancy. He couldn’t exactly get rid of her, because she was all around him, every time they passed by in the halls, in class, and unfortunately for you, hanging out with his friends.

The first time you had a proper interaction with Nancy, it had to have been one of the most uncomfortable experiences. She never said anything awful about you or anyone, and she didn’t make you feel unwelcomed, but knowing what you knew, you made it uncomfortable instead.

Conveniently, her locker was close by to yours, so she was always there, everything that you wanted to be always in front of you.

She brought her note pads close to her and shut her locker, walking over a few steps to you with a sweet smile. “Hey, we haven’t really talked as much as we should, especially as we have the same friend circle, so I thought I’d make sure you know that you can talk to me whenever.”

A slightly awkward laugh left your lips. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“There are a lot of us, so I know it’s a little all over the place.” She laughs.

“I guess to, yeah.” You nod.

The silence falls after that, and you’ve never wanted to bash your head against your locker more, but she carries on, and you couldn’t appreciate that more.

“We can walk in talk on the way to class, if you’d like.” She says, her voice sweet and warm.

“That sounds nice.” You say, more quietly, joining beside her.

You were glad that she was talkative, because all you could think about was how different you were to her. Then you started to overthink it too much, because if he liked people like Nancy, you were far off that.

It shouldn’t have been a shock to you that he was still lingering around her, because he was exactly who everyone said he is. That was another strike for you, for being so lovesick that you weren’t aware that he isn’t always going to be genuine with you just because he said so.

Watching him interact with her was the worst part, because she was so sweet, and you couldn’t deny it, even if it was frustrating. She was like cigarette smoke that clung to him, only it was his decision, not hers.

She was constantly in the foreground of your mind, and it wasn’t any different from Steve. It wouldn’t be the biggest surprise if she came before you, because Steve is Steve, and you couldn’t expect anything else from him.

Most people would think that it’s easy to have a boyfriend that has had many girlfriends, because he clearly wasn’t stuck on any of them if they were one after the other, short lasting, but they would be wrong. Maybe he had moved on from most girls, but not Nancy, never Nancy.

That’s when the tension got clearer anytime you had some alone time together. Words lingered from across the kitchen island, ready to burst out. The more he went on about something that you couldn’t care about, the more his voice started to get on your nerves.

“Steve.” You cut him off, and he paused.

“Yeah, what’s up? Am I talking too quickly?” He asks.

You shake your head, huffing. “No. I just want to talk, you’re not giving me any room to say anything.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening, baby.” He repeats, leaning back on his chair and pausing his conversation for you.

“Can this be serious talk? Let me know if it’s not the time and we can talk about it at another point.” You whisper, voice already cracking and you haven’t got on to talking about it yet.

“We can talk about whatever. I’m all ears.” He nods.

For a few seconds, you stare at him in silence, because the worry was already building up inside you, and if you spoke, you were afraid you would stumble over your words.

You glance down at your hands. “You’re serious about us, right?” You ask, unsure about your own question and everything leading up to this point.

“Of course. I’m very serious about you.” He says with a genuine smile, reaching over to place his hand on top of yours.

“I guess it hasn’t felt that way, which is why I asked.” You mumble, fingers trembling against his.

He shifts his chair closer to yours. “Why?”

It feels like the words are there, but every time you try to open your mouth, you freeze, nothing but a broken breath leaving your lips. You take a moment to settle, not really settle, because in something vulnerable like this, you couldn’t, but you pause before squeaking out. “Nancy.”

His movement on your hand stills, like hearing her name still causes him to react.

“What about her?” He asks nervously.

“She’s always around, she’s everywhere. That’s not the problem, and neither it she, but I feel like there’s something still there between you two. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of something that I shouldn’t have gotten into.” You admit quietly, your eyes glassing over.

He lightly brushes his thumb over the palm of your hand. “There’s nothing between me and Nancy.”

“It feels like you two never broke up with how normal you are around each other.” You sigh.

He stops talking like his input will only make it worse.

“You’re around her a lot. I know you share the same friends, but you look at her the way I want you to look at me.” Your voice cracks, and you turn your head the other way.

Steve’s breathing shuddered, and he shook his head. “I’m serious about you, I promise.” He manages out.

“Those just feel like words to me now. They don’t feel real to me. It’s like you’re throwing them around to make me feel better.” You mumble, tracing patterns on the marble counter.

He sighs, loudly. It hit a spot. “What more could you possibly want me to say?”

The way his voice changed was something you never want to remember again, and the tears were welling up already. You kept your head turned from him, because showing him how much this has affected you won’t work on him. He’s definitely seen this before.

“I don’t know, show me? You’ve been off with her a lot.” You huff.

“With friends.” He adds.

You roll your eyes, staring blankly at the cupboards. “I’ve felt like I’ve been shoved to the side, like you’ve gotten my hopes up, only for me to be let down.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, and you know it.” He shook his head with an amused laugh, and that only made this feel more heated.

“If I knew it, I wouldn’t be asking, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I don’t want to have to beg for it, but I want you to be around me just as much as you’re around them, around her.” You whisper, defeated.

“Then you can join us, that’s fine.” He murmurs under his breath.

Nothing has felt more humiliating than this.

“How do you feel about Nancy?” You ask, turning to look at him, but he’s blurry with the tears filling up.

He closes his eyes, looking done with the conversation. “Me and Nancy are friends, that’s all there is to it.”

“Make it feel that way then.” You push your chair back.

“I do. Why are you not listening?” He asks, getting increasingly more frustrated.

“No, why aren’t you listening?” You repeat. “I feel like I’m apart of some massive joke that I’m not involved in. Steve, I just wanted to talk about how I’ve felt. I feel sick even thinking about how you could possibly still be in love with her, and I’m just something to pass time.”

“You’re not that to me though. You’re so much more.” He sighs.

“I can’t keep waking up with my heart aching, Steve. If I’m saying that it feels like you’re stuck on her even if you’re not, then maybe that’s something you can work on. If not, then this won’t work.” You shake your head, sliding your chair back fully and padding out of the kitchen, into the bedroom and closing the door behind you.

It feels emptier, quieter without his voice talking your ears off. Part of you feels bad for bringing it up at all, but she’s all around, basically burned into him, and you can’t deal with the endless possibilities. You rest your head on the pillows, curling your legs up to your chest.

To him, the conversation only highlighted his worry that he would lose you, the one thing that he never wanted out of this, the one thing he told you that wouldn’t happen. The ache in his chest was growing, and if he sat at the kitchen island any longer, he probably would’ve let it consume him.

The bedroom door pushes open, hesitantly, slowly, and he steps in, closing it behind him and slipping into bed behind you. His hand is gently on your side, checking if you’ll swat him away, which he would agree he deserves.

After a moment of rustling. “Hey, I’m sorry.” He whispers, pressing his lips to the back of your head. “I could’ve communicated that better.”

You hum, letting him know that you’re listening, but not speaking.

“Everything you said was completely okay for you to say, and I’m not angry that you told me about how you’ve felt. I just got a little frustrated because everything I said was completely true, and I’m willing to be open with you right now.” He says, brushing his thumb over your skin.

“Okay.” You whisper.

He nods, bringing you closer so that your back presses against his chest, completely enveloping you in his warmth. “Yes, my breakup with her wasn’t easy at all, I can fully admit that to you. We’ve been mature about it and talked like friends, and we will continue to be friends. We share the same friends, so it’s pretty hard to not be around her, and I respect that it’s not comfortable for you, and it’s not comfortable for me either, but I have to be mature about it.”

“I’m just worried that you’re going to shove me to the side.” You mumble.

His face completely drops, softer, and he gently grabs your jaw, turning you so that you’re looking at him. “No. Absolutely not. That’s not who I am or ever want to be.”

A quiet sigh leaves your lips. “It’s hard not to worry when she’s always around. I’m hyper aware that at any moment, you could just go back to her.”

His thumb brushes over your cheek and he shakes his head. “We didn’t work well together at all. It was just never really right, and it never felt right, if that makes sense.” He pauses, eyes flicking over you. “I’m dead set on you.”

“You’ve probably said that to loads of people.” You say with a small laugh, making light of the situation to make yourself feel better.

“No, actually. I haven’t. Shocker, I know.” He sighs. “I really, really like you, and I want this to continue further.”

“I want to continue further with you too, Steve.” You whisper.

“I’m glad. I’m so glad.” He says, relieved. “I’ve never taken something slowly with anyone, so believe it or not, but this is a very new experience for me too.”

You nod, turning around so that you’re fully facing him, and he slips his hands into your hair. “I’m sorry that I brought that up at all.”

“Please don’t be sorry. You wanted to tell me how you felt, and it’s completely understandable. I hope that what I said was clear enough. I’m sorry that you’ve felt this way, and I wish I was clear at the start.” He whispers. “I’m your boyfriend, and that’s a title I want to keep. This isn’t something I want to drop.”

Without a second though, you press your lips to his, gentle. It isn’t rushed or a clash of teeth like it usually is, but you take it slowly, feeling his lips against yours.

“I’m very happy to keep the girlfriend title.” You whisper against his lips, and he grins.

The initial worry died down, and you feel less tense about it all. Maybe you’d end up worrying again, but you felt more relieved knowing that he’s trying for himself and for you, and he’s pushing his old ways behind.

Getting into relationships never made anything easier, because most of the time, they never really understood your obsessive behaviours or the constant need for reassurance. No matter how many times you tried to explain yourself, they only saw you as ‘needy’ or ‘desperate’.

So, you stayed back from getting into relationships, and anytime something was getting serious with someone, you’d push away because it was for the sake of yourself and the other person. It was the only way to feel some sense of relief, not having to try and read them, ask for reassurance when there was a shift, or asking if everything was okay.

You fell into a constant repetition that seemed to never have an end, and it exhausted you more than you could ever admit.

Sometimes it felt like the most humiliating thing in the world, but you wouldn’t realise until after you performed a compulsion. Your friends had experienced you declining invites to events plenty of times, they watched you check appliances, doors, reassured you that nothing bad was going to happen, they have seen it all.

Steve got to see every part of you, and you couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t exposing, because it felt like he was watching a performance every day. He never made you feel like anything less. It took him a while to understand everything, and he would give into your compulsions without realising that he was only adding to it all, but he learned, and that was what was important to you.

Most people made you feel like you were being too much, too dramatic, too over the top, but he made you feel like you weren’t incapable of doing things, and he got used to your routines and researched how he could help you.

There wasn’t a cure for OCD, but living with Steve was some sort of cure. He knew that he couldn’t fully take away your intrusive thoughts or rituals, and he felt guilty that he couldn’t, but knowing that he cared enough to support you mattered the most.

Before you’d even stepped into the house for a minute, Steve already knew that you were frustrated. He saw it in the way that you murmured to yourself as you slipped your shoes off, and how you pushed down on the door handle a few times before you decided to keep walking through the apartment.

He wandered into the kitchen to see you stood by the counter, finger sliding across the page as you read through a cookbook. It was one that was completely pointless most of the time, because you only liked to make a few meals that were in the cookbook. The other pages were nonsense to you.

“How was work?” He asks, slowly walking towards you, leaning his hip against the counter.

You sigh. “Stressful. Chaotic. I don’t even want to think about it.”

He nods, his eyes flicking over your face with an understanding look. “That’s okay.”

You walk over to the fridge, opening it up and searching through the bottom shelf and pulling out the chicken breasts and flipping over the packet, checking the best before date.

“When did you buy this?” You ask.

“Yesterday. It will be perfectly okay to eat.” He hums to himself.

You glance back down at the packet, then at him. “It goes off in two days.”

“That’s good. It’s good to eat then, come here.” He says, motioning for you to walk over.

You walk over to him and pass him the packet. He opens it up and sets the chicken down on the chopping board, glancing down at the cookbook.

“What are we making tonight?” He asks.

“Chicken and chips.” You mumble, glancing up at him.

He nods with a grin. “For two?”

An amused laugh leaves your lips, and you gently shove him with your elbow. “No, for one. It’s all for me.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Steve reaches over to grab a cooking knife and settles it down on the chopping board, moving out of your way. He watches how you hesitate to pick up the knife, looking unsure and a little uncomfortable, and you glance up at him as if to search for directions.

“Would you like me to help with anything?” He says whilst grabbing the seasoning.

“The chicken.” You mumble.

“Specifically, what about the chicken?” He asks.

“Cutting it into cubes.” You glance down at the chopping board, slowly stepping back.

He paused for a moment, settling the seasonings down on the table. “Are you not able to cut them yourself?” He raises his eyebrows.

Silence cuts through the room, and you stand still, staring at him for a while as if to silently give him all the answers. His eyes flick between you and the chopping board for a moment, and his face softens, his voice coming out more gentle. “Oh. I see. Okay.” He nods, speaking more to himself. “Well, I will stand by, but you’re going to do it yourself. I know that these are just your thoughts, and trying to ignore them won’t help.”

“I can’t, Steve. What if I do something bad?” Your voice wavers, trembling.

“Those are just your thoughts. You can do it.” He says more quietly.

Since living with Steve, he’s gotten more aware of your compulsions and your need to isolate yourself from the thoughts instead of facing them. He’s been perfect navigating you through it all, and you couldn’t ask for any better.

You sigh, glancing at him and back at your chopping board, then you slowly pick up the cooking knife, gently slicing through the chicken. Your pace is slow, but he understands that you’re going to be uncomfortable, and it won’t be something that you’re taking easily.

He comes up beside you after you’ve sliced the chicken into smaller cubes, and he seasons the chicken on both sides.

“Hey, where’s the paprika?” You ask, slightly offended that he’s forgotten the best part of the flavouring.

He comically slides himself over to the cupboard, grabbing the paprika and standing back beside you, sprinkling a generous amount over both sides of the chicken.

Pans clatter together as he searches through the cupboard, taking out a frying pan and placing it on the cooktop. He pops open a bottle of oil and makes sure that it’s evenly distributed on the pan. After he waits for it to heat up, he places the chicken in the pan, and it starts to sizzle.

Whilst he’s frying the chicken, he spreads out chips on a baking tray and pushes it into the oven, closing it up.

You stand close by his side, watching as he flips the chicken over, keeping a close eye on the colour of the chicken. His eyes glance at you a few times, silently checking that you’re okay.

Once he’s ready to serve the chicken on the plate, he reaches to turn the knob, but your hand comes over his, stopping his movements. He pauses and looks at you confused, letting your hand settle on his.

“No.” You shake your head.

He blinks at you a few times before he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it cooked?” You ask, leaning over to prod the chicken with the spatula.

He reaches up to grab the temperature probe and sticks it into the middle of one of the chicken pieces, checking the temperature.

“It’s 76 degrees celsius. Definitely cooked.” He nods, sliding the temperature probe into a few more chicken cubes before he looks at you.

You gently take the probe from his hand, checking the chicken yourself before stepping away to make room for him. “Okay.”

He nods and uses the spatula to place the chicken down on the two plates, and he turns the cooktop off. Whilst he’s serving the chicken onto your plates, you place on your oven gloves and take out the chips, coughing at the steam goes in your face, pulling a laugh from him.

“Every time.” He grins, leaning against the counter.

You roll your eyes and place the baking tray on the table, using a clean spatula to serve the chips onto the plate. “Shut up.” You mumble.

Your eyes flick up to the cooktop, and he follows your gaze.

“It’s off.” He whispers, gently resting his hand on your lower back.

“Are you sure? Did you check?” You ask, unsure.

He gestures down to the sign on the stove being off. “Off.”

A content hum leaves your mouth, and you grab your plate, making your way over to the kitchen island and settling down on a stool. He follows behind you with the cutlery, placing a knife and fork down for you.

For a while, you sit eating in silence, listening to the wind whirring outside and the tick of the clock from the other room. His fork scrapes against the plate a few times, making you both cringe at the sound.

His voice comes through, filling the quietness. “You’re doing really well, by the way.” He mumbles as he munches on his chicken.

“What do you mean?” You ask as it’s completely out of the blue.

He sets his knife and fork down on the plate with a clang and he puts his focus on you. “With your compulsions. You’ve been doing amazingly not performing them. I understand it’s really uncomfortable, but the only way to feel comfortable is to be uncomfortable at first.”

“I hate it.” You sigh, pushing your chicken around with your fork.

“I know, but you’re one of the strongest women I know, and you’re pushing through.” He says, gently placing his hand on your back, brushing his thumb back and forth, a little hesitant.

You push your plate back on the table and lean into him, resting your head on his chest. His hand comes up to the back of your head, brushing through your hair slowly.

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper.

“Please don’t. This is the support you should be being given.” He mumbles.

“You’re the first to do so, so I really appreciate everything you do for me. You don’t even need to.” You lean further into him.

He shakes his head. “I hate seeing you uncomfortable. I want to support you.”

Steve never rushed you to do anything, and he never gave into your compulsions or tried to reassure you. He was there, whether he was standing by you in silence or navigating you through your worries, he never failed to be there. To him, it was something small that everyone should be doing for you, and he’s mostly right, but to you, it’s the most important, selfless thing that anyone has done for you.

the problem with steve, at least in his own extremely fair and very rational opinion, wasn't that he was bad at dating.

he had rules, a system. a whole carefully built little routine that he had been refining for months, maybe longer if he was being honest.

he showed up on time. he dressed well. never overdressed, never underdressed. just enough effort to look like he had put thought into it without looking like he had spent three hours in front of a mirror. he held doors open, remembered names, asked questions that made people feel interesting, and listened with the kind of attention that usually made people lean in a little closer and smile a little softer.

he was charming, too, when he wanted to be. not in a loud, showy way. not the way he used to be, back when charm was something he wore like a jacket that never quite fit right. now it was quieter, steadier, something he had grown into, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

and still, every single time, it went nowhere.

the dates always started well. sometimes they even ended well. there would be laughter, easy conversation, a shared dessert, an accidental brush of hands over the table that made steve’s brain do something deeply embarrassing. sometimes there was a kiss goodnight. sometimes there wasn’t.

either way, by the next week, something would shift. a text would come in that was polite and distant. a cancelation would happen twice, then not at all because the other person had simply stopped trying. once, someone told him he was “really great” which somehow felt worse than being told he was awful, because it meant there was no obvious answer to fix.

so he was left with this baffling, humiliating mystery of his own life. he was doing everything right. that had to mean something. it had to.

maybe love was just mean now. maybe it handed out false hope for sport. maybe there was some invisible test no one had thought to tell him about, and he kept failing it with the smiling stupidity of a man who had never been informed about it in the first place.

he was leaning against the chain link fence of the baseball field after practice, baseball cap pushed back on his head and whistle hanging uselessly around his neck, when he saw you.

you were standing near the parking lot with a little boy tugging at your sleeve, both of you half lit by the dying gold of late afternoon. the kid was holding a glove too big for his hand and talking at you with the urgency only little brothers and little brother adjacent people could possess.

you were listening with your whole face, smiling down at him like whatever he was saying mattered more than anything else in the world.

steve looked away first.

then looked back.

because apparently his life had also become that kind of humiliating. the kind where a person he'd never met before managed to make him forget how to breathe for a second.

you caught him looking and gave him a polite, curious smile.

he did what he always did when he was caught off guard by something beautiful. he made it worse by trying to be smooth.

“you here for the game?” he asked, walking over before his brain could file a complaint.

you glanced at the field, then back at him. “my brother. he’s obsessed with baseball for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me.”

the kid beside you brightened. “because it’s awesome.”

“see?” you said, with exaggerated patience.

steve laughed before he could stop himself.

you smiled at that, and something in his chest did a slow, inconvenient turn.

“steve,” he said, lifting a hand a little awkwardly.

“i know” you said.

he blinked. “you do?”

“you coach, right? my brother talks about you like you’re some kind of baseball legend.”

“i don’t know about legend.”

“no, i think he said, and i quote, ‘coach steve is the coolest adult alive.’”

steve pressed a hand to his chest. “wow. that’s actually very accurate.”

that made you laugh, really laugh this time, and he felt stupidly victorious for about half a second.

your brother had wandered off to chase one of his friends by then, leaving the two of you standing a few feet apart near the fence, the noise of the field and the last calls of the other kids and parents thinning out around you.

steve asked your name. you gave it. he repeated it like it mattered, like he was trying it on for size. maybe he was. then, because he had apparently decided subtlety was for people with less at stake, he asked if you would maybe want to get dinner sometime.

it was not smooth, it was not his best work, it was, however, sincere.

you studied him for a second that made his pulse kick against his ribs. then you tilted your head and smiled in a way that made him suspiciously hopeful.

“yeah,” you said. “i think i’d like that.”

and just like that, steve was back in the game.

he spent the next week in a state of organized panic.

he picked the restaurant carefully, something nice but not intimidating, the kind of place where the lighting was flattering and the music was low enough to let conversation breathe. he ironed his shirt. changed his mind about three different shirts. called robin and then immediately regretted it because robin had lots of opinions.

“so,” she’d said, “you finally found someone who won’t treat you like a mildly annoying decorative object?”

“i never said my dates treat me like that.”

“you didn’t have to, i know your tragic little heart.”

“do you want to help or not?”

she had. sort of. in the way robin helped, which meant she insulted him affectionately then offered one genuine piece of advice at the end like a magician producing a dove from a hat.

“stop performing,” she’d said. “you do this thing where you decide ahead of time exactly who you need to be, and then you get weird when the other person is a person and not a checklist. just… be there. actually be there.”

he had stared at her, she had stared back.

“that’s it?” he asked.

“you asked for dating wisdom, not the meaning of life.”

still, her words had stuck with him.

so when friday evening came, steve didn’t show up as a polished version of himself built to impress. he still looked good, because that was unavoidable and frankly not his fault, but he was less rigid about it. more human.

he brought flowers because he thought it was sweet, and because sweet was safer than clever. he rehearsed a joke in the mirror, hated it, then left the house without it.

when he knocked on your door, he had that nervous, hopeful energy he always tried to hide. he was holding the flowers in both hands like they might explode.

you opened the door looking so unfairly beautiful that for a second he forgot the name of the road he’d driven down to get there.

then you saw the flowers.

your face changed in a way he couldn’t quite read immediately, and his confidence took one long, stumbling step backward.

“these are for you,” he said quickly. “obviously.”

you covered your mouth, and he watched with growing horror as you started to laugh.

not cruelly. thankfully not cruelly.

just helplessly.

you made a face that was somewhere between apology and amusement. “i’m actually allergic.”

there was a beat of silence.

then steve blinked. “you’re joking.”

“i wish i was.”

you laughed again, and this time he joined in, because what else was there to do? he set the flowers carefully on the porch railing then he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling despite himself.

“cool,” he said. “great start. really strong opening for me.”

“i do appreciate the effort,” you said, still smiling. “and the gesture. i’m serious, it was very sweet.”

“sweet is what i was going for. though, apparently, also poisonous.”

“only to me.”

“noted.”

he expected the moment to turn awkward. instead it became one of those strange, easy things he never knew how to plan for. the kind he could never have designed with all his perfect little dating rules.

you stepped outside, closing the door behind you, and there was the briefest pause while the two of you figured out where to put your hands, where to look, how much to smile without it feeling like too much.

he asked if you were ready. you said yes. he opened the passenger door for you, and you made an exaggerated face that said he was absurdly committed to the bit.

“what?” he asked as you got in.

“nothing,” you said, settling into the seat. “just trying to decide whether i’m being courted or recruited into a very polite organised crime ring.”

“those aren't mutually exclusive.”

that got another laugh out of you, and for the first time all week, steve felt his shoulders loosen.

-

the drive there actually started surprisingly well.

which, considering steve's recent luck, should've probably been his first warning sign.

usually first dates came with awkward silences. not terrible silences, but the kind where both people were carefully trying to figure each other out. deciding what stories to tell. deciding which parts of themselves were acceptable to put on display first.

but somehow that never happened with you.

the conversation just flowed.

one minute he was pulling away from your house and the next he was halfway across town listening to you complain about a customer you'd dealt with earlier that week.

"and then," you said dramatically, "he asked to speak to someone who actually knew what they were talking about."

steve winced.

"ouch."

"right?"

"what'd you do?"

you grinned. "pointed him toward my manager. obviously"

he laughed loudly enough that he almost missed a turn.

after that the conversation seemed to move naturally from one thing to another. your jobs. your week. your little brother's latest baseball obsession.

it was easy, dangerously easy. steve couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten through a first date without mentally checking off boxes.

ask about family. ask about hobbies. don't talk too much. don't be weird.

with you, he kept forgetting the rules entirely.

and honestly?

it was nice.

by the time they reached the restaurant, steve was feeling good. really good. the flowers had been a minor setback, nothing more.

the date was back on track.

everything was fine, everything was absolutely-

"i'm sorry, can you repeat the name on the reservation?"

steve blinked.

"steve harrington."

the hostess frowned at the screen.

"one second."

that wasn't ideal.

a minute later another employee appeared, then another. steve immediately felt his stomach drop.

beside him, you shifted slightly.

"that's usually not a good sign."

"no" he admitted.

the hostess offered an apologetic smile. "we can't seem to find your booking."

steve stared. "what?"

he had booked it, he knew he had. he'd called days ago. hell, he'd written it down afterward.

"could it be under another name?" she asked.

"no."

a few more minutes passed until eventually the hostess returned looking genuinely sympathetic.

which somehow made it worse.

"i'm really sorry," she said. "we're completely booked tonight."

silence.

steve nodded once, slowly.

"right."

"i apologize."

"no worries."

there were, in fact, many worries.

because seriously? seriously?

first the flowers.

now this.

the two of you walked back outside.

the restaurant door shut behind you.

for a few seconds neither of you said anything. steve was already preparing his apology, he was working on a speech. something mature, something responsible, something that didn't sound like he wanted to throw himself into traffic.

"okay" he started.

you suddenly snorted.

steve looked over.

you had your lips pressed together failing miserably at holding back laughter.

and then you completely lost the battle.

a laugh burst out of you, loud and genuine, you doubled over slightly.

"i'm sorry," you managed. "i'm sorry-"

another laugh escaped.

"this is ridiculous."

steve stared.

then the absurdity finally hit him too, and suddenly he was laughing along with you.

right there in the parking lot like two complete idiots.

"i swear i booked it."

"I believe you."

"thank you."

"this is still hilarious."

he rubbed a hand over his face.

"i've never had a date go this badly."

you looked at him.

"really?"

"absolutely."

you smiled. "that's kind of impressive."

and somehow hearing that made him feel better. a lot better.

so you abandoned the plan completely.

twenty minutes later steve found himself pulling into a drive-thru.

something that had never once appeared in the grand steve harrington first date handbook.

you ordered burgers, fries, drinks. nothing fancy, nothing romantic, nothing remotely close to what he'd planned.

then the two of you parked in the corner of the lot and ate the greasy burgers in the car.

and somehow it was perfect.

you talked about everything, absolutely everything. childhood stories. favourite songs. movies you loved. movies you hated. terrible haircuts. embarrassing family members.

at one point you nearly choked laughing after hearing about steve's middle school attempt at impressing a girl by pretending he knew how to skateboard.

"what happened?" you asked.

"i hit a mailbox."

you stared.

"immediately."

you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes and steve couldn't stop smiling.

the weirdest part was that eventually he forgot he was on a date.

not because he wasn't interested. quite the opposite. he forgot because talking to you felt less like performing and more like existing.

at some point he started rambling, actually rambling. about baseball, about coaching, about the kids, about some completely pointless story involving a game from three weeks ago.

halfway through he realized he'd been talking for way too long.

normally that would've sent him into panic mode.

instead he glanced over.

you were listening. really listening. eyes fixed on him, smiling softly whenever he got animated, and for some reason that made his chest feel strange.

like maybe he wanted to keep talking forever if it meant you'd keep looking at him like that.

eventually the burgers disappeared, the fries too, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in ending the night.

"we could walk?" you suggested.

steve shrugged.

"a walk's pretty romantic."

"look at you."

"i'm a professional."

you rolled your eyes but smiled.

and so you walked.

for all of six minutes.

because apparently the universe had not yet finished with you.

the rain started without warning.

one second there were clouds, the next it was absolutely pouring.

"oh my god!"

you shrieked.

steve immediately burst out laughing.

"run!"

you were both soaked within seconds.

completely drenched.

your hair sticking to your face, your clothes ruined, the two of you sprinting toward the car while laughing so hard neither of you could breathe properly.

at some point your hand found his. or maybe his found yours.

neither of you really knew.

but suddenly you were running together through the rain.

for a brief second steve thought that maybe this date was cursed.

but if it was?

he honestly didn't care anymore because he was having the best time he'd had in years. maybe ever.

eventually he drove you home.

the heater blasted warm air. both of you still damp, still smiling, still occasionally laughing over something one of you remembered from earlier.

when he pulled up outside your house neither of you moved immediately.

then you looked over at him, a smile pulling at your mouth.

"thanks for the worst date ever."

steve immediately barked out a laugh, dropping his head forward.

"yeah." he rubbed a hand over his face, still grinning, "i'm pretty good at those."

you laughed softly.

and then there was one of those moments. the kind that wasn't awkward, just quiet. the kind where neither person really wanted to leave.

you looked at him, he looked at you, and then you tilted your head.

"so."

"so?"

"next date are we getting food poisoning or something?"

steve laughed, he really did, but honestly? he barely heard the joke. because his brain had immediately latched onto two words.

next date.

next.

date.

there was going to be another one.

you wanted another one.

you.

wanted.

another.

one.

he felt like he was floating.

"hopefully not" he managed.

"hopefully?"

"with my luck i don't want to make promises."

you smiled and god. that smile.

"maybe we should avoid public places altogether."

"smart."

"less opportunities for disaster."

steve thought for a second. "we could do something at my apartment."

you raised an eyebrow.

"brave suggestion, harrington."

he pointed immediately."movies."

"uh-huh."

"food."

"right."

"possibly board games."

you laughed, "okay."

and there it was.

a plan.

a second date.

something to look forward to.

you said goodnight a few minutes later.

steve watched you walk to your door, waited until you got inside safely, then finally pulled away from the curb.

the entire drive home he couldn't stop smiling. he tried, seriously, he tried, but every time he thought about the night another grin appeared.

because somehow everything that could've gone wrong had gone wrong and somehow it had still ended up being the best date of his life.

maybe robin was right, maybe the problem had never been finding the perfect date, maybe it had been finding the right person to have an imperfect one with.

and as steve pulled into his driveway with rain still tapping softly against the roof of his car, all he could think about was next weekend.

and you.

-

the next date went wrong too. obviously.

it started at his apartment. which, according to the plan the two of you had made, was supposed to eliminate any possibility of disaster.

no restaurants, no reservations, no weather, just movies, snacks, and the two of you. simple.

or so steve had thought.

because somehow he managed to burn the popcorn.

not slightly burn it, not accidentally leave it in for ten extra seconds, he completely annihilated it.

you found him standing in front of the microwave looking so very offended.

"how?"

he pointed at the blackened bag, "i don't know."

"it's microwave popcorn."

"i know that."

"there are instructions."

"i followed them."

you stared, he stared back, you both looked at the popcorn, then immediately started laughing.

again.

because of course.

somehow the evening still ended with the two of you sharing snacks from his cupboards while sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch.

the movie barely held either of your attention.

every ten minutes one of you would make a comment, or tell a story, or laugh at something completely unrelated, and by the end of the night steve found himself thinking the same thing he'd thought after your first date.

that somehow it had been perfect despite absolutely not being perfect.

the date after that somehow went even better and also somehow worse, because steve's car broke down halfway to the drive in movie.

completely.

he sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring ahead, accepting his fate.

you sat beside him, equally silent.

then,

"so."

steve groaned, "don't."

"this is getting ridiculous."

he dropped his forehead against the steering wheel. "i know."

"are you cursed?"

"i might be."

you laughed.

you never made it to the movie, instead you ended up walking to a diner a few streets away.

sharing fries, stealing food off each other's plates, talking until you both forgot there had even been a movie to begin with.

it became a pattern after that.

something always happened.

plans changed, things broke, weather ruined things, food got burned, and yet somehow every single date still ended with steve driving home smiling like an idiot.

because at some point he stopped caring about the plan. he stopped trying to create perfect evenings, he stopped worrying about whether everything was going right.

because every time something went wrong, you just laughed, shrugged, worked around it together, and he night always ended up better than whatever he'd originally planned.

he thought that probably said something.

about you, about him, about whatever this thing between the two of you was becoming. because it was becoming something.

neither of you had said it yet, but steve could feel it.

every time he saw you, every time your name appeared on his phone, every time he found himself smiling at a text like some hopeless teenager.

and then there was the kissing.

god, the kissing.

that had gone very, very right.

for once.

your first kiss happened after another date that had gone completely off the rails.

steve couldn't even remember exactly what had gone wrong that night anymore, only that he was standing outside your house. that you were smiling at him and that there had been this moment.

one of those moments.

the kind where the world seemed to pause for a second. where neither person looked away, where neither person moved.

until eventually steve had quietly asked,

"can i kiss you?"

and you'd smiled. that soft smile he was becoming alarmingly addicted to.

then nodded.

and steve swore every thought in his head immediately vanished.

after that?

well.

it happened a lot. a lot.

he kissed you when he picked you up, kissed you when he dropped you off, kissed you halfway through conversations because he genuinely couldn't help himself. when you picked up your brother from games, he'd walk over and kiss you before even saying hello.

which always earned him dramatic gagging noises from the kids.

especially your brother.

"gross."

"thank you" steve would reply.

"i'm serious."

"i know."

and then he'd kiss you again just to annoy him.

which worked every single time.

sometimes you would show up at practice, sometimes he'd stop by your place after work, sometimes neither of you even had plans you just wanted to see each other.

weekends turned into weekdays, dates turned into casual evenings, phone calls turned into falling asleep with the phone still pressed against his ear.

and before steve really realized it, you had become part of his life.

something woven into the everyday. something that felt so natural it was hard to remember what things had looked like before.

which was probably why he got nervous.

because for all his confidence, all his charm, all his history with dating, this mattered. more than any of the others ever had.

which was why he spent nearly an hour talking himself into asking you out.

but he managed it eventually.

sitting beside you on his couch one evening. your legs stretched across his lap, a movie playing that neither of you were actually watching.

he looked at you, you looked at him, and suddenly every prepared sentence disappeared.

"hey."

"hey."

he swallowed. "this is gonna sound stupid."

you smiled. "okay."

"but i kinda wanted to ask something."

your expression softened.

"what?"

steve rubbed the back of his neck. already embarrassed, already nervous, already wishing he could somehow skip the part where he had to actually say the words.

but he did it anyway because you were worth being nervous for.

"would you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?"

there was a brief silence, just long enough for him to panic, then you smiled.

"yeah."

another pause, then you laughed softly. "i'd like that."

steve stared.

"really?"

you laughed harder.

"yes, really."

"seriously?"

"steve."

"right."

you shook your head, still smiling. "you're ridiculous."

he couldn't stop grinning. didn't even try. because somehow you had said yes. somehow this beautiful, funny, impossible person had looked at him and decided she wanted him too.

later that night, after you'd fallen asleep against his shoulder and he was sitting there trying not to move because he didn't want to wake you, steve found himself thinking about all the dates before you.

all the awkward conversations. all the dead ends. all the nights he'd driven home wondering what he was doing wrong.

wondering why nothing ever seemed to stick. wondering if maybe love just wasn't meant for him.

and maybe modern love was a cruel endeavour.

maybe dating sucked, maybe people hurt each other, maybe timing was terrible, maybe nothing ever worked the way it was supposed to.

but steve looked down at you sleeping against him, felt your hand loosely tangled with his, remembered every disaster date that somehow became a great night anyway.

and for the first time in a very long time, none of that seemed to matter.

because eventually he'd gotten tired of failing. eventually he'd said fuck it, whatever.

and that had led him straight to you. which, as far as steve was concerned, was the best thing that had ever gone wrong.

-

He had known this was coming. But, after the last conversation with your grandfather, he hadn’t expected it to be this soon. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated the feeling of his heart sinking. 

He tried to shake it as he headed into his house, but it immediately resurfaced when he heard your voice floating through the halls of his home. He followed the sound to the kitchen and there you were sitting at the table across from his father. 

“Alright sweetie, that’s it for now. You think it all over, and just let me know what you plan to do. Whenever you decide, I’ll handle the rest.” 

“Sounds great, thank you again.’ 

“Of course.” 

Steve stood in the kitchen doorway listening, suddenly glancing down, very aware of the creaking floorboards under his feet. When he looked back up, you were looking right at him. 

He could’ve sworn your breath caught for half a second when you saw him or maybe that was wishful thinking. His sure did.

“Hi Peach.”

“Hi,” you replied. 

His father cleared his throat. “These ones are for you sweetheart, the rest are for me,” he said gathering paperwork from the table. “I’ll let you kids catch up.” 

His father walked toward the door, pausing just long enough to tap Steve lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t forget your mom and I are heading out tonight around nine, we’ll be back Wednesday.”

Steve nodded, with a faint smile, and a half hearted eye roll. Almost embarrassed for you to witness that in five years nearly nothing’s changed between him and his parents.

“Love ya, son.” 

“You too,” he mumbled as his father exited the kitchen.

You stood up from the table and Steve began moving closer towards you. He wasn’t sure what to do when he got near, but his mind screamed hug. Like the hug he never got before things ended, or the one he didn’t offer when your grandmother passed. He could picture it — fuck — he could almost feel it. The warmth of your body pressed against his, that intoxicating smell of your perfume filling his senses. But what if you didn’t fall back into that same rhythm? So instead, he just stood there, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Your dad told me my grandpa has you putting in work. Thanks you.I really appreciate you taking care of everything.” 

“Oh, I mean it’s no big deal. I’m glad I can help.” he cleared his throat. “Any idea what you’re gonna do?” 

“Not at all.” 

“No?” 

“No,” you repeated, glancing down at the papers on the table before looking back at him. “My initial thought was to sell. But my grandpa let it slip my grandma had wished for me to live there. And even though he told me to do whatever….” you sighed. “I don’t know. It feels wrong to just let it go, like I’m losing her all over again.” 

“I, uh… I’m really sorry about her passing.” 

You nodded softly. “Thank you. I know she was kinda gone when she was still here but it sucks. I’ve heard it’s supposed to get easer with time, but…”

“I think that’s just a line some asshole came up with.” 

A laugh slipped from your lips, and it felt like a distant memory breaking through. Steve cursed himself for forgetting it had once been his favorite sound. 

“I think you’re right,” you replied, gathering the the papers and tucking them against your chest as you began to walk toward the doorway. “I’d love to catch up… but I was actually gonna run to the store. There’s nothing in the house, and I haven’t eaten since the drive in.”

“How about we—” he started, then stopped. “Do you wanna go get dinner? My treat.”

You cocked your head to the side, a small smirk forming on your lips. "Benny's?"

Benny’s Burgers had always been kind of seedy. Nobody goes for the atmosphere. The food however, is phenomenal. Steve would also argue, it’s just got this feeling. It kind of feels like the most nostalgic thing about Hawkins — or maybe he just feels that way because of you.

After you two ordered, Steve led the way to the corner table, the same one you two would frequent since childhood. He noticed you check the wall as you sat down, as if to make sure your initials were still there. They are, permanently etched by that pocket knife he found the summer before sixth grade, when he said he had to to claim that spot as yours.

His gaze drifted down just below to the S.H. carved beneath. He hadn’t added those until senior year. One of those regular study dates when you split fries and a shake as you helped him cram for another test. You told him your initials looked lonely without his, and well, he couldn’t have that. 

“I’ve yet to have fries that have ever compared to this place,” you said pulling him out of his head. 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“It’s true,” you insisted. “Nothing I’ve tried comes close.” 

The waitress dropped the food off then, earning a quick thank you from each of you. 

You hummed a soft moan at the first bite. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He was too busy watching you, to dig in to his own food.

“What? Do I have something on my face?" You asked, having noticed his staring.

“No, it’s nothing.” 

The two of you ate in a silence for a few minutes, the only sound was the music faintly playing in the restaurant. Steve wasn’t sure what to talk about, the car ride had been easy — his new truck the topic of discussion. This felt harder. He didn’t know where to start, he hasn’t known a single thing about your life beyond the bits your grandfather has dropped in the past few months. 

“Uh your grandpa mentioned you’ve been living in New York.” 

“Yeah, for the last few years.” 

“You didn’t want to stay in Chicago?” 

“I did at first. After my internship, they offered me a position.” You glanced down at your plate. “But a year in, I hated it. I was selling ads for things I didn’t care about, to people who didn’t care either. It was so.... empty and corporate. I couldn’t do it anymore.”  

“So, you just.. quit and moved to New York?” He asked, surprised. 

“Basically, yeah,” you laughed softly. “Ronnie and I concocted this plan, she was still in the dorms at NYU but Eddie had just moved to Brooklyn with, Jeff Hartley if you remember him.” 

Steve’s mouth fell open without thinking.

“Basically I had a free place to stay in return for helping them promote shows, getting them booked, stuff like that.” 

“Holy shit,” he said absentmindedly. 

Steve helped Eddie move into that same Brooklyn apartment — having become sort of accidental friends through Dustin. Every summer since, when Dustin tried to get Steve to join him on a trip to Brooklyn, Steve always had some excuse not to. Had you been there all this time?

You cocked your head, and Steve caught himself quickly. 

“I uh, I just heard Corroded Coffin was blowing up, did you have anything to do with that?” 

“Barely. I had a hand in getting their foot in the door but the recent stuff — that’s all them.”

“That’s still really cool. Are you involved in any of it anymore?”

“Sadly no,” you replied. “I was for awhile but they met this guy in the industry. Since we had a bartering situation, Eddie only agreed to hire him if he’d get me a job first. So this guy - Jake, hooked me up at this venue, and I helped promote other bands and shows, sometimes Corroded Coffin.” 

The name Jake rang in Steve’s mind the minute you said it. 

He was only half listening, while half remembering a conversation with Dustin back in November — something about getting in touch with Eddie’s manager to get Corroded Coffin to play a campus show. Dustin was always throwing around all sorts of names Steve didn’t know. But now it all clicked. 

Dustin had needed to get in touch with Jake’s girlfriend about show promotion. He’d even said your name, Steve was sure of it. Of course, Steve never would have thought it was you. Up until six months ago he thought you had been in Chicago this whole time. 

“But I left the music stuff a few months ago,” you continued, seemingly oblivious to the way his thoughts had drifted. 

“What are you up to now?” 

“Ad work,” you laughed, covering your face with your hand in embarrassment. “I’ve been freelancing for fragrance companies, so it’s different then it was in Chicago — there’s actually some creative freedom.” 

“So, it”s still something you like?” 

“It pays well,” you said with a small smile. “But enough about me.” You tilted your head slightly. “What about you? Y’know the hat kind of threw me off — I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not have your hair done since we were kids.” 

“Comes with the job,” he laughed. “Last year, I started as the head baseball coach at Hawkins middle.”

“Coach Steve has a great ring to it,” you said twirling the straw of your milkshake.

“It’s a pretty good gig… with one condition,” he paused.  “They have me teaching sex ed.”

“Ohhhh wow,” you nodded, teeth caught between your lips as you beamed at him. “I truly don’t think anything could be more fitting.”

The two of you erupted in a fit of laughter. 

From there, the conversation continued — scraping gently at the surface of the past five years, filling each other in on small, scattered details. He mentioned that your grandfather sounded happy living with your folks in Indianapolis. You told him it’s a brave facade, and he misses Hawkins. That opened the door to more stories  — about who still lived where, old high school friends, and the differences between small Midwest life, and Brooklyn. 

Eventually, you brought up Dustin mentioning that he hadn’t recognized you, and you never felt compelled to remind him you'd met through Steve. Steve wondered why not. It felt strangely unfair, like for years, you’d gotten little pieces of his life, while he’d been kept almost entirely in the dark about yours.

And that imbalance was most clear the moment you said,  “Is it true that you were engaged?” 

Steve’s grip tightened around his drink. “Yeah, I uh, I was.” 

“Mhm,” you said dipping another fry into your shake. You took a bite and pointed the remaining fry at him. “Can I be nosey?” 

Steve huffed softly, “What do you wanna know?” 

“Anything. I practically gave you my life story of the last five years and you’ve given me crumbs.” 

“That’s just not true,” he laughed taking off the baseball hat, and running his hands through his hair for some sense of grounding.

“Oh there’s the Steve, I remember. Y’know I was a little worried you’d actually gone bald on top.” 

“Oh, I did. This a a toupee,” he said gesturing to his scalp. “That’s why the engagement ended actually.”

“Right, of course. Bald’s a dealbreaker.” 

He laughed, and put his hat back on. “No, uh, it was just dumb love. Jumped in way too soon, didn’t talk about any logistics.” 

“Yikes,” you said shrugging. “Yeah, lack of communication can definitely put a damper on things.” 

That was the first nod towards your shared history, Steve was sure of it.

“If it’s any consolation I think you probably saved yourself with that one. Marriage is a bit overrated.” 

The words caught Steve off guard and you must’ve been able to tell. 

“Wow… that sounded way more cynical than I meant.” 

“You’re probably right,” He nodded, mulling over yours words. They did sound cynical. Which wasn’t wrong — it just didn’t sound right coming from you. Not when, at ten years old, you used to ramble about marriage, all your wedding plans, from the flowers to the dress. 

The two of you finished the meal, and you thanked him as you slid out of the booth and made your way outside. 

“I really can’t believe you wrecked the Beemer,” you said as you climbed into his truck. 

“Still hurts,” Steve said, tapping the steering wheel, before starting the engine.  

Steve glanced at the clock. He had about 30 minutes before he was supposed to meet Robin. He started down Mulberry and wondered if you realized he was taking the long way home. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you only talked about the scenery. 

And somewhere between one backroad and the next, Steve realized he wasn’t ready for the night to end. He didn’t want to lose this — the way the awkwardness had finally dissolved and it felt like five years suddenly didn’t seem so far apart.

At the stop sign on Culver, he turned toward you.  

“My best friend’s actually in town tonight. I’m supposed to meet her at this bar, would you-“

“A drink sounds great,” you cut in. 

Steve nodded, and changed the route. 

The bar was the one spot in driving distance to Hawkins that didn’t feel like some Midwest shithole, which meant it was always packed. 

When you two made it inside, Steve weaved through the crowd towards the bar, grabbing your hand so you wouldnt lag behind.

Robin spotted him first, calling out as she pushed through the crowd. She immediately pulled Steve into a hug, causing him to release your hand in the process. 

“Good to see you too, Buckley,” he wheezed.  

“Missed you,” she said, laughing, already pulling back — eyes landing on you. “Who’s the babe? She looks familiar.” 

That same giggle from the kitchen fell from your lips, and Steve felt dizzy from it. 

“Robin, this is—“

“Peach,” you cut in. 

He paused, unsure whether you’d said it for his sake, or yours. 

Robin’s mouth dropped. “Oh my god. Like the Peach?” She asked, glancing toward Steve.

He let out a hollow laugh, “Yeah..” 

“How exciting! I met Steve like right in the aftermath—“ 

“Robin,” he said flatly. 

“What?” 

Steve rolled his eyes as she continued. 

“I’ve just heard a lot about you.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m sorry I’m crashing—“

“Nope — no apologies, only shots,” she said with a smirk. “Vodka or Tequila?’ 

After the third round of of tequila shots, the three of you nursed your preferred choice of drinks at a hightop in the corner. 

The heart of the conversation kicking off with Robin asking about Steve as a kid, and you began flooding her with details so specific he had almost forgotten himself. 

When you’d told her why you were back in town, she scoffed at the idea of ever moving back to Hawkins. So Steve took the opportunity to ask her about life in Boston.

Somewhere during Robin’s rants and raves he’d zoned out, unsure if it was it was the alcohol, or that constant flicker in your eye every time Robin made you laugh. By his second drink, the condensation on his fingertips, the thrum of the music, and the sound of your voice had him transported back to New Year’s Eve ’85. The last time you two had been properly drunk together. 

That was until he overheard Robin comparing you to sunshine.

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.  

“You’re just exactly as Steve described you.” 

“Oh, yeah? What did he say exactly?” 

“I don’t remember, it was something far too profound for that big head of his” 

He remembered it.

It had been a slow shift at family video, Steve was half listening to Robin as he stocked the new arrivals. She’d been complaining about their coworker Keith, that it was like he had a little raincloud following him or something. 

Steve had replied absently that some people were like that just.. draining. Then he’d added, “I knew someone who was like the complete opposite, I swear she was… fucking sunlight incarnate.” 

Robin went so uncharacteristically silent at that, that Steve paused his stocking, to glance at her. 

She looked deep in thought, but before he could question it she’d said “Oh,  Peach?”

You turned toward him, that curious little smirk on your face, but he shook his head. Didn’t say anything, just steered the conversation elsewhere.

Somehow the topic of jobs came up, and Robin mentioned Scoops Ahoy.

“Oh, I love that place! There was one right by my apartment in Chicago.” 

“You wouldn’t if you worked there,”  Steve said, and Robin agreed immediately, saying it was probably the worst job they’d ever had together. 

You said you couldn’t pick the worst ad you ever worked on, because you truly hated them all. So instead you talked about your favorite bands you promoted and Robin instantly lit up. She went into a full tangent about her time as Rockin’ Robin, until mid conversation she spotted an ex across the bar. 

It turned into a spiral of whether or not she should go over, but Steve just watched as you encouraged her. 

“Would you hate me, if I go?” She asked him, pouting.

Steve shook his head, as Robin pulled him into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“It was so good to meet you finally,” she said giving you a hug. 

You shared the sentiment, and then watched her go, looking down at your mostly empty glass. “I think I’ve hit my limit.”

“Same,” he mumbled glancing over at you. “We could grab waters. Sober up in my truck?” 

“We could,” you replied. “Or we could walk.”

“Walk?”

“Mm-hmm, it’s not that far.” 

“It’s like over an hour,” he countered. 

“So?”

“So… that’s an hour of walking. Drunk walking.” 

“It’s an hour of fresh air. I never get that kind of thing in the city.” A smile smile tugged at your mouth. “Please, Stevie?’ 

That got a reluctant sigh out of him. “Okay. Let’s walk.” 

Steve’s ears rang slightly with the newfound silence as he stepped out of the bar. The sound of bass replaced by crickets and the crunch of loose pebbles beneath his feet. 

You were already a few steps ahead of him as you wandered down the sidewalk, a little wobbly with each step.

“Steve,” you called lightly, turning around and continuing to walk backwards. “Why are you walking so slow?”

“I’m enjoying the view.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “was that a line?” 

Steve grinned. “No.” 

You shook your head, like you were annoyed but Steve could tell you were smiling as you turned around.

For awhile it was like that. Walking threaded with small talk — the kind where little truths slip because the alcohol has loosened all inhibitions. 

“You know.. it’s actually unfair how pretty you still are,” you said, around the half way point. 

Steve wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “What?”

“You’re pretty.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“Very drunk,” you laughed turning towards him. “But, I mean it. I like the scruff.”

He didn’t move, just stared at you, his lips quirking into a smirk as he chuckled softly.

You looked away first, continuing your stride, as the two of you settled into a rhythm of things you’d liked for the past few years — tv shows, movies, snacks and music.

“So… your fiancee,” you asked walking past the high school.

“Ex,” he corrected. 

“Right. Did I know her?” 

“No.”

“Hawkins is so small, I just figured..” 

“She was from Michigan.” 

“Ah,” you nodded thoughtfully, hesitating before you continued. “How would you describe her?’

Steve looked over, slightly amused. “Why?”

“I’m just curious.”  

He moved his hands into his pockets as he searched for the words. “She was…. amazing. Like always knew what to do, and how to take care of people.” 

“Sounds like you.”

His breath shuddered at the sincerity in your voice. 

“Sure… I guess, but she’s smart, like scary smart and incredibly kind.” 

“Would you say she’s like sunshine too?” 

Steve’s mouth fell slack at the way that slipped off your tongue so delicately. 

He almost wanted to correct you, tell you that Robin was close but it wasn’t sunshine. It was more than that. That to him, you would always be sunlight incarnate, the type of warmth and light that makes him feel alive just by being in your presence. But he'd sobered up just enough to realize he couldn't say any of that out loud.

He shook his head. “No.” 

You didn’t reply, just nodded and continued to walk for another few blocks before eventually stopping and abruptly taking a seat on the curb. 

Steve looked over immediately. “You okay?” 

“Mmm, I just — why the hell did I think walking was a good idea?”

“Fresh air,” he reminded you.

“Well, I’m over it. I think it’s giving me a migraine at this point.” 

“Right, that’s definitely not because of the alcohol…” he laughed sitting down next to you, elbows resting on his knees. “At least we’re almost there.” 

You nodded, but you didn’t speak. 

And Steve could see it, the way your body was tensing up as you zoned out at the road. 

“Hey — hey are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He didn’t believe you. Not for a second. Not when he’d spent the entire day looking into those beautiful eyes, and not once did they ever look this glossy. 

“Peach are you sure, you look like you’re gonna cry.” 

“Fuck,” you breathed out dragging a hand over your face. “I’m sorry — I’m fine. I just — I haven’t felt like myself in awhile.” 

Steve breathed out your name in a sigh, and it felt foreign in his mouth. The look on your face when he said it, made him sick.  

A small sound escaped you, a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Jake - Eddie's manager, we were dating and uh, he wanted to propose a few months ago.” 

Steve’s breathing stilled, “Oh.”

“He never got the ring we just talked about it, and I realized in that moment, that my life didn’t feel like mine. Like… I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began and that scared the shit out of me.” 

You exhaled deeply, wiping at your eyes at the few tears that had fallen. 

“I felt… caged all of a sudden… so I ended it. Our relationship, my job, distanced myself from all of my fucking friends because they became our friends…” you sighed.

Steve nodded, trying to process what you were saying but suddenly focused on the way his chest felt tight.

“For fuck’s sake Steve, I’ve been going by Peach the last few months because my name doesn’t even feel like mine anymore.”

Steve’s mouth fell open in a sigh that he hadn’t meant to be audible, half spoken like something he couldn’t contain but he couldn’t find any actual words for. 

He watched as you began to fidget with the grass of the tree lawn, sitting in the silence that neither of you interrupted.

“I’m sorry… clearly tequila and I don’t mix well,” you sighed. “Feeling like this and hearing what you said about me…”  

“I meant it." The words felt painfully insufficient.

“Well thank you, because I obviously needed to hear it.” 

Steve felt the shift that this moment had cracked open everything and if he left it pass he’d continue harboring regret. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About not coming to say goodbye. About—” 

“Please don’t,” you cut in with a dry laugh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, I should have, I promised I would. We didn’t even see each other at graduation. I didn’t-“

“Steve, I could’ve come to goodbye when I realized you weren’t. It’s not all on you.”

The relief that left his chest felt like a pressure release. 

“But I am curious, why didn’t you?” 

Steve paused for a moment, fingers drumming softly on his knee. “’Y’know, I had a reason back then,” he admitted quietly. “I just don’t remember it anymore.” 

That was the worst part. Years had passed and he’d never stopped thinking about you. Regret hanging heavy that he let insecurity ruin something he’d cherished so much, and for what? Something he hadn’t been able to remember.

“We were just kids,” you said, wiping your hands on your jeans before standing, extending your arm out to him to help him up.

Steve stood, and the two of you started to walk again, though neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t loaded, or awkward, in fact it was the most comfortable it had been all night.

When you reached his street, you slowed first and he matched your pace without thinking as his house came into view. 

A few steps later, and you paused, tipping your chin towards your grandpa’s driveway, “Hey.” 

Steve followed your gaze to your car. “Oh no,” he said immediately, shaking his head. 

You were smiling before he even finished speaking, your hand lifting into a fist and tapping into his shoulder. “Punch Buggy, no punch back!” 

“I haven’t missed that.” 

“Liar,” you smiled as you continued to walked toward the car. “Do you want a ride to your truck tomorrow?” 

“Oh that’s okay, Robin will be over so…” 

“Right,” you smiled as you continued up the driveway, the same comfortable silence settling back in, as you reached the front porch. 

“Well, thanks for saving me from grocery shopping and whatever tragic fate tv dinner and reruns would’ve been.” 

He huffed a small laugh. “Of course, thanks for coming out.” 

You began to walk towards the door but turned around mid step, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. 

Steve’s body went rigid for a split second, before his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest with a heavy sigh, as he buried his face into your neck.

Exactly like he remembered.

You gave a final tight squeeze, before letting go. “Night, Stevie."

“Goodnight Peach,” he whispered back as you headed inside. 

This was how you’d spent nearly every fourth period for the last few months — Steve walking you down the hall afterward, hand in yours, telling you that you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

And you’d say it right back because he was — you’d always known it.

It wasn’t like you’d been immune to fawning over King Steve. In fact, you were probably the first. And the first to call him that.

You’d said it after one of his first basketball games, a little jab at his ego after he scored the winning shot. You must’ve been overheard, because by Monday, it was his new nickname throughout the halls.

Which inadvertently led to this odd reality as he began to no longer resemble the boy you grew up with and instead morphed into this puppet of himself. Everyone wanted him, and you knew it. King Steve was all the rage. It was a little jarring to remember there had once been a time he was all yours. At least in that innocent way growing up together allows.

There was no malice as you drifted apart, just the gradual change that happens in formative years. He had his crowd, and you found yours. But even so, the absence lingered.

Which is why you so easily welcomed his presence at Tina’s New Year’s Eve party senior year.

You hadn’t expected it when Ronnie and Eddie dragged you along but there you were, sipping a lousy drink on the couch, when Steve dropped down beside you.

“Hiiii you,” he drawled.

“Hi,” you said, giggling at the pouty face he was aiming at you. “Well… don’t you look drunk,” you teased. And while that was true, he also looked prettier than ever.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Not wrong. You were way too sober for your liking, sipping a Coke with barely a splash of Jack.

“Trade?” you asked, holding out your drink.

He cocked his head, eyebrows knitting, a small smile tugging at his lips. He took your cup and handed you his.

You took a sip and immediately winced.

“What the hell is this? Acetone?”

“Scotty’s twist on a Long Island iced tea, Hawkin’s Hell Raiser I think he called it.”

“Disgusting,” you muttered, grimacing.

“And yet, it does the trick.”

You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly took another sip, letting the alcohol burn as his eyes stayed fixed on you, a small smile beginning to curl on his lips.

“What?” you asked, a little sheepishly.

“Just haven’t seen you around for a while.”

You nodded, you knew he didn’t mean school.

“They uh, moved my grandma into a nursing home. I don’t really like going back to the house without her there.”

“Ah, right. I… I heard about that, I’m… I’m sorry. She’s always been great to me.”

You toyed with your cup, anything to distract from the ache in your chest.

“She used to bring me dinner when my folks were out of town,” he continued. “Always said she couldn’t stand watching me order another pizza.”

You laughed, meeting his gaze again. “She still talks about you. On the days she’s lucid, she rambles about the boy who used to tug on my braids.”

He moved his hand absentmindedly to your hair, your breath catching as he brushed it away from your face.

“She keeps getting stuck on that summer before sixth grade,” you said quietly.

“That was a good one,” he smirked.

“I don’t know… I had the shittiest kiss that summer,” you teased, nudging his hand away.

“Hey! It wasn’t that bad.”

“You missed my lips, Steve. You kissed my fucking chin.”

“It was my first kiss! I’ve gotten better since then.”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” you laughed, taking a sip of the drink.

“You don’t believe it?”

You rolled your eyes.

Of course you did — he was the sole reason Skull Rock became so popular.

“Be my kiss tonight,” he added before you could respond.

“Oh my god.” You scoffed, cocking your head at him.

He didn’t say it like a line, he said it like himself. At least the version you remember.

You weren’t sure if it was senior year coming to an end or his recent breakup, but lately you’d noticed a shift when you passed him in the halls.

Less King. More Steve.

And despite the alcohol on his breath, you could see it now.

“How drunk are you?”

“Enough to know why they call it liquid courage.”

You felt yourself getting warm, unsure if it was the alcohol or how serious he seemed.

“Be my kiss,” he repeated. “Unless you and Munson are, like… a thing?”

“Eddie and I, a… thing?” you laughed. “No.”

“Well, I don’t know. You’re always around the freak—”

“Still charming, as ever,” you scoffed. “I hate to break your fragile brain, Steve, but there’s this concept called friends.”

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in surrender.

“‘Always’ is a stretch anyway. Ronnie’s his best friend, and she’s mine, so by proximity—”

“Friends,” he cut in. “Got it.”

His eyes flicked back to your lips, his tongue wetting his own as he stared.

“Mmm-mh. Drop the idea — you’re not getting redemption. I quite like being able to say I kissed Steve Harrington and it was awful,” you said, dragging out the last word for emphasis. “Makes me feel special.”

He barked out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “You are special, Peach.”

Peach. God, have you missed that. You hadn’t heard it since the end of sophomore year.

It all started when you fell off your bike at seven, bruised all over. Your grandma had laughed, saying, “I oughta call you Peach, you’re bruising just like one.” Steve thought it was hilarious, and from that day on, your name never fell from his lips again. Just Peach.

You nodded toward the cluster of girls watching the two of you. “You’ve got a line of people dying to be your midnight kiss.”

“Sure,” he said. “But none of them are you.”

The flutter in your stomach was undeniable at this point — tiny butterfly wings urging take off.

“Steve, don’t you know better than to save those honeyed words for the girls that actually believe ’em?”

“Aww, c’mon, Peach. I’ve only ever been honest with you.”

You swallowed, shifting to stand. “Well then… if you mean it, find me at midnight.”

And so he did.

During the sixty second countdown, Steve reached you with fourteen seconds to spare, smirk on his face, closing the distance just as the clock struck midnight.

He didn’t miss your lips this time.

Mouth claiming yours, stealing breath straight from your lungs as the cheers for 1985 rang around you.

The kiss wasn’t just his redemption, it was the beginning of making up for all the lost time.

And the more time you spent together, it became crystal clear that the boy you grew up with was still very much a part of him. It made you wonder whether people always return to who they were before life stripped away their innocence — or whether you two were just high on each other, on the nostalgia of it all. Undoubtedly, it felt like a fairytale.

But like most fairytales, there’s always a twist.

It didn’t happen all at once.

Kissing in the dark with the TV running low, Steve’s eyes transfixed on your reflection in the mirror as he watched you put on your makeup — sweet nothings spilling from his lips like worship. The awe on his face whenever he looked at you — it all remained.

Only something had wedged its way between you. A subtle shift in the quiet moments that had you wondering if the magic was slipping.

And it all imploded on prom night.

Back at Steve’s, the house empty except for the two of you. You intended to give yourself fully — finally — like some sort of cliche, only it didn’t feel anything less than perfect.

Steve was making sure of that.

Lips tracing your skin as if every inch of you was meant to be memorized. Your own lips numb from all the kissing. Down to only undergarments, sweat slick skin and heavy breathing as the dull, steady ache of what’s to come lingered — then halted.

Steve rolled off of you, breath quickening as he stared at the ceiling.

“Sorry. I just need a minute.”

“Everything okay?” you asked, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand.

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept staring.

Little did you know he was replaying a conversation from weeks ago.

“You lack drive, Steve. You latch on to these smart girls — and you’d think one of them would rub off on you by now. They’re going places. And you… you’re expecting I pick up the pieces to the mess you’ve made of your life.”

The words of his father hadn’t stopped circling since he first heard them.

He didn’t want to be thinking about them now — not when he wanted this moment to be special.

Steve had never been precious about sex. It just… happened. Fast, easy, thoughtless, except for Nancy. That had been different. Slower. Intentional. She’d forced him to look at himself a little longer than he liked — and he’d needed that.

But “King Steve” hadn’t appeared out of nowhere.

It had started freshman year. And, whether you knew it or not, it had started with you.

Hawkins had two middle schools feeding into one high school, and he’d counted the days until he could see you in the halls instead of just when you were at your grandparents’ house.

Only, he made varsity — a rare win for a ninth grader. A louder win for his ego.

The older guys took him under their wing. Told him girls were about to line up.

When he admitted he liked you — wanted his first time to mean something — they laughed.

They convinced him he’d make a fool of himself. Said he’d disappoint you. It was easy to believe when all he could think back to was that first kiss he’d colossally screwed up.

So when the sophomore cheerleader leaned into him after a game, he told himself it’d be practice. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being practice and became performance. And “King Steve” was easier to be than himself.

By the end of that year, you barely talked. A wave here, a hallway conversation there. And come spring of sophomore year, when you actually shared classes, the gap felt too big to close.

And even though he wanted to try, he didn’t know how. Then he began dating Nancy.

And while she had a hand in pulling him out of the persona, he'd too wrapped up in falling for her to mend his friendship with you.

Until five months ago.

It’s not like the past five months had been PG. Not even close. But you chose to wait — not incidentally, but intentionally. And when you told Steve last month you were done waiting, he’d been determined to make it perfect.

Only now, with his dad’s voice echoing in his skull, he couldn’t quiet it.

She’s going to leave, he thought. And I’m stuck here.

He used to think that was fine. A job at his dad’s company would mean a steady life.

What a fucking moron.

Without looking at you, he finally spoke.

“I can’t do this.”

You pushed up on your elbow. “What?”

“I can’t go through with this.”

“Okay,” you said gently. “That’s fine. We don’t have to. But is everything okay?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, it's just this… us. We have always had an expiration date.”

The resignation in his voice made nausea bloom in your stomach.

Expiration Date. You weren't even entirely sure what he meant, but you had a sinking suspicion it is exactly why things have been feeling off lately..

“Steve,” you said carefully, “what do mean by that. What are you talking about?”

He finally looked at you. His eyes were glassy in a way you’d never seen.

“You’re leaving. A month, yeah. But then what? You go to the city. You start your internship. And I’m…” He let out a humorless laugh.

“Leaving doesn’t mean disappearing. I thought—”

“I can’t do long distance,” he cut in quickly. “And I’m not going to be the guy you sleep with before—” He stopped himself. “This feels cheap.”

“Steve, I’m so confused.”

“Sex changes things,” he said. “And I don’t want to muddy this before you go. You’re going to outgrow—“ he stopped himself again, jaw tightening. “This is all I’ve got.”

He huffed, sitting up.

“You’re all I’ve got,” he added quietly, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip.

You pulled the throw around yourself suddenly not wanting to be so exposed.

“I wasn’t going to sleep with you as some sort of farewell tour,” you deadpanned.

“I didn’t think that. It just— it complicates everything. It’s easier if we don’t.”

“Okay,” you said, sitting up.

“Don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not,” you replied.

“I’m just being realistic, Peach.”

“No,” you chuckled softly. “You’re catastrophizing.”

Silence settled between you.

Steve felt nauseous.

You felt displaced.

“So let me just understand. You’ve decided,” you said, incredulous now. “That me leaving means I’m leaving you. You concluded this , us — was temporary?”

He didn’t speak just stared blankly ahead as the wall.

“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

His voice dropped. “What do you want?”

You wanted him to come with you. You were going to ask him tonight. To get the hell out of this town and see what life looked like beyond Hawkins — together.

Instead, you stared at him.

“I just don’t want to be here, right now.”

He nodded. “Get dressed… I’ll take you home.”

Five months of hand holding and hallway kisses, backseat fondling and endless sweet nothings. Of being cherished so intensely you couldn’t imagine anything better.

And now you were being reduced to a cautionary tale in his head so he could soften a blow he’d invented.

“It’s fine,” you said, voice breaking as you pulled on your clothes. “I’ll go to my grandpa’s.”

Steve's stomach clenched. You never go over there - you had said it felt haunted with the absence of your grandmother. A vacancy you can’t get used to.

“Babygirl-“ he whispered.

“It’s fine.” You doubled down.

Steve shifted, hands fidgeting with unease that continued to sink in his stomach.

“I just- we didn’t have to sleep together. That’s the last thing I cared about. But us - we could’ve talked before you—”

“I can’t ignore the expir—,”

“Got it.” You cut him of before he could finish the words, because they were already echoing in your head like a swan song.

“There’s nothing wrong with a head start,” he whispered.

“Unbelievable,” you murmured, grabbing your things to leave, neither of you bothering to say goodbye.

Three days later, you opened your front door to the sound of incessant knocking, only to find Steve standing with flowers in his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

Relief flickered across his face.

“My dad he’s just been in my head - fuck — I’ve just been in my head. You’re about to leave and you have all these dreams and I’m…. fuck im putting applications in at the mall.” He exhaled sharply.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, I mean Chicago isn’t even far. It’s an easy drive. We’ll make it work."

Your heart ached. That’s exactly what you’d imagined.

“Steve,” you sighed.

His face paled, “Don’t say it like that.”

The desperation in his voice made it feel like a knot was tightening around your heart, squeezing it in two.

“You said I’m all you have,” you breathed.

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“I know how you meant it,” you interrupted softly. “But you have dreams Steve. Even if you don’t believe in them anymore.”

He stared at you blankly, flowers trembling slightly in his grip as he nodded his head.

“If it’s any consolation, I wanted you to come with me,” you whispered.

“You did?”

“Of course I did.”

Hope flickered in his eyes then faltered when he noticed your solemn expression hadn’t changed.

“But you deserve more than just following me,” you continued.

He nodded once, swallowing hard. "So that’s it for us then?” he asked quietly.

You gave a sad smile. “A head start never hurt.“

He flinched at that.

He hated you throwing that line back at him. How cruel it sounded. He didn’t mean for it to sound that bad when he said it.

The regret filled his body with a turmoil he’d never met before. The thought that if he had just stayed quiet that night he would've had at least one more month.

He looked down at the flowers in his hand, they were an offering for forgiveness but now a parting a gift.

His throat hurt, as he got the words out. “Well… these are for you.”

“Steve—”

“Please take them. You said they were pretty last time we drove by the stand.”

“Thank you,” you said grabbing the flowers, thought they felt more like grabbing a knife.

There was an awkward stillness in the air, and a horrible sense of sorrow.

“Should we—” he gestured vaguely.

You wanted to fall into him. Let his strong arms wrap you in his warm embrace, kiss him until your lips were numb and tell him it was you and him forever and always.

Instead, you shook your head, tears falling.

“If we do that, I won’t be able to let go.”

He nodded, tongue pushing against the side of his cheek.

“I’m really glad you asked me to be your New Year’s kiss,” you whispered.

He chuckled softly, “I’m glad you let me redeem myself.”

The tears in your eyes finally shed, just a few single tears wetting yours cheeks, and as instinctive as the motion to breathe Steve’s hands came up to your face to wipe them away.

“I’m so happy we gave this a shot, and I’m so goddamn sorry it’s all fallen apart.”

“At least we enjoyed it,” you breathed.

Steve could hear the bitterness laced in your sincerity, and it felt like salt in the wound.

“I loved it,” he confessed, before removing his hands from your face and stepping back.

“Promise me you’ll see me before I leave."

“Promise” he said before reluctantly walking back to his car.

You didn’t know it then, but he was going to break that promise.

–

steve harrington hasn’t been the luckiest with love, that much is certain to anyone who has as much as glanced his way in the last four years, but, god, he’s in love with you.

he can’t quite place the exact moment he started feeling this way, all he knows is that one day he glanced over your way, met your eyes, and it felt like his entire stomach twisted inside out and his body turned to goo.

he doesn’t have a clue how it started, maybe it was the way you always seem to laugh at his jokes, or the way you huff with an eyeroll whenever murray said something a little too distasteful. it could’ve been the fact that you come into the squawk every morning with coffee for him and robin from the cafe you work at, always just the way he likes it, and you hand it off to him with a small smile every time.

it could’ve been how funny you are, or how smart, or kind, or pretty, but steve thinks it must’ve been a mix of all of those things, because he loves everything about you. it’s been almost six months of feeling this way.

and, yeah, he’s definitely in love with you.

robin groans loudly as steve watches you leave the squawk one friday morning after bringing them coffee, as per usual, giving him a glance over your shoulder and a little wave as you walked out the door.

steve raised his hand to wave back, a dumb smile making it’s way onto his face easily before you slip from view, and he sighs.

robin shakes her head disapprovingly, murmuring under her breath, and steve looks away from the glass front doors and over at her.

“what was that, buckley?” he questions, not aggressively, but as if he’s challenging her to repeat whatever snide remark she had muttered to herself.

“all i said was, ‘god, you are pathetic, harrington.” robin repeats and steve shoots her a glare from his place by the soundboard, surrounded by tapes of different comedic sound effects.

there’s a record spinning by robin’s side, playing a song steve never would’ve picked but robin had insisted was ‘better than anything he listens to’. robin spins around on her chair to face him properly, shooting him a look from across the room.

“i mean, how long has it been steve, really? six months?” she asks and he sighs, reaching for his coffee and raising the paper cup to his lips.

“eight.” he corrects quietly before taking a sip and robin’s eyebrows shoot up.

“eight months. so you’ve been in love with her for half of this quarantine we’ve been stuck in, and the most you’ve done is smile at her a little differently?” robin shakes her head and steve scrunches his nose.

“who made you the love expert, huh? what happened to me being the one giving you advice?” he asks and she snorts.

“uh, how about the fact that i’m the one with a girlfriend here, meanwhile you’ve been pining for the better half of a year and have gotten nowhere.” robin spins around to face her microphone and adjusts a dial in front of her. “anyway, i think she’s going to eddie’s party tonight.”

“who, vickie?” steve asks and robin rolls her eyes so hard it looks like they might fall out of her head. and when robin says your name as if it was obvious, steve’s tummy fills with warmth and a smile appears on his face.

he wishes you could feel how he feels when somebody says your name. it’s almost like he’s going to be sick, but in a good way.

“really?”

“yes, dingus. maybe tonight’s your chance to work up the courage and finally say something.” robin says. “you know, confess? or, at least, ask her out.”

steve bites the inside of his lip and thinks for a moment, then groans because of course robin’s right, but he has no idea what he’d even say. he can hardly talk to you past a basic greeting or some small talk.

but then again, a party hosted by eddie means alcohol, and pot. maybe something there can help steve find the right words. no, that’s stupid.

he sighs and drops down onto his chair. “robin, i can’t do this. what if i say something and she’s just totally weirded out? i can’t risk that, it’ll kill me. like, actually, kill me.”

robin stares at him mid motion as she places a new record on one of the players, then sighs again.

“robin!” he exclaims but she quickly shushes him, holding a finger to her lips as the previous song dies down and she pulls her microphone down towards her mouth.

“goooood morning hawkins! glad you could join us on this beautiful friday morning.” robin shoots steve a glance over her shoulder and a mischievous smile slips onto her lips. “this next one goes out to my partner in crime, soundboard stevie, who’s been feeling a little lovesick as of late. who’s the lucky girl to have won steve ‘the hair’ harrington’s heart? well, we’ll have to wait and see if he has the guts to say anything to her…”

“robin!” steve hisses across the room, not caring that they’re on air, and she just giggles in response.

“take it away, olivia…” robin says and the opening to ‘hopelessly devoted to you’ by olivia newton-john fills the small sound booth. steve shakes his head and robin just grins over at him. “what?”

“what if she was listening to that, robin?” steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest a little dramatically, similar to the way tantruming toddler would. “then what?”

“then i could be doing you a favor!” she points out but steve runs his hands through his styled hair, tugging lightly as he exhales.

“i feel like i’m going insane.” he tells her and she shrugs.

“save it for tonight.”

–

the air at eddie’s place is thick, a mix of smoke and heat from the large number of bodies filling the small house, and steve is perched on the couch between eddie and jonathan as they smoke, his eyes scanning the party, searching every face for yours. his nails dig into the denim of his jeans, and his friends seem to notice.

“what’s wrong with you, harrington?” eddie asks, holding out his blunt like an offering but steve shakes his head.

he opens his mouth to answer, but robin cuts in as she walks over with two cups and you right by her side.

steve’s mouth goes dry as he looks up at you, his eyes lingering on the cut of your shirt for maybe a moment too long before they reach your face. you’re smiling down at him.

“hi, steve.” you greet brightly and steve finds himself rubbing his palms against his thighs, like he’s wiping away imaginary sweat. he practically jumps to his feet and gives his best attempt at a charming smile. his friends all share glances behind his back.

“uh, hey,” when your name leaves his mouth, steve hears a quiet ‘oh,’ come from jonathan behind him and he’s immediately reminded that the two of you aren’t the only people in the room and, in fact, you’re standing in the middle of a party quite literally surrounded by your friends. steve awkwardly gestures toward the spot he had just been sitting in. “uh, here.”

“oh.” you stare at him for a moment and steve’s eyes flick over to robin’s in a brief moment of panic before you smile. “thanks, steve.”

“uh, yeah, sure. no problem.” he thinks he’s playing it cool, but everyone can see the way he shifts nervously on his feet.

“well, i’m getting another drink.” nancy says, standing up from her place on jonathan’s other side and pulling her boyfriend up with her. “anyone else want anything?”

“i just got a drink.” robin raises her cup. “but i’m gonna go find vickie, anyway.”

“i’ll come.” eddie jumps to his feet, winking at steve as he does so, and steve shoots robin a glare. she holds her hands up in surrender, mouthing that she didn’t say anything.

“can you guys get me a drink?” steve asks before taking jonathan’s seat on the couch and sitting down beside you. someone nods and soon the others all disappear, leaving the two of you sitting there alone.

to steve, the moment feels so right, the two of you sitting side-by-side, close enough that your legs are touching, but he also feels so wrong. his heart won’t stop beating, his stomach flips with each brush of your hand and when you look his way he forgets his train of thought.

he feels insane, worse than he had this morning, because now you’re next to him. now he’s not imagining what you’ll say if you speak to him, because right now you’re telling him about your day at work and your voice is like music to his ears.

the two of you sit there and talk for what feels like hours but was likely just 15 minutes before steve stands up.

“i’ll be back in a second.” he tells you before hurrying off, heading towards the kitchen first. he weaves his way through the sea of people filling the room, searching the house until he finds robin. she’s holed up in a corner, giggling with vickie, but still looks up when steve stops before them.

“what’s up?” she asks and he takes a deep breath, close to hyperventilating as he stares at her. he looks over his shoulder and back to where you’re sitting on the couch, giggling at something eddie’s saying as he holds two cups in his hands, one of those likely steve’s drink.

he faces robin and takes a deep breath. “how do i tell her?”

–

he’s given himself until monday morning. he’s got until monday morning to come up with a plan, because he’s going to tell you he loves you then.

the idea robin gave him is as follows, pick a song that explains how he feels about you, dedicate it to you on the squawk on monday morning, then when you come by with coffees he can actually talk to you and ask you out.

go big or go home, right?

the only issue is that steve has no idea what song to pick. it has to be perfect, it has to encapsulate exactly how strongly he feels for you, how you make him feel.

he wants you so badly that it feels like he can’t breathe when he’s away from you. his body feels like it’s been lit ablaze whenever you touch him, and he’s melting the moment your eyes meet his. you’re everywhere, even in his dreams.

he’s in love with you, he knows it. but is there even a song that can describe the way he feels about you?

steve’s been thinking, trying to come up with song ideas, while he’s been tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep because he can’t stop thinking about you.

he spends his entire weekend writing lists of song ideas, scanning the shelves of vinyls at the wsqk radio station for ideas, but none of them are right. none of them are perfect.

robin tells him he’s gonna regret it if he doesn’t have a song soon, the longer he waits to confess the less chance he’ll have. but how is he supposed to do this when every song he listens to doesn’t even begin to describe his feelings?

by the time monday morning comes around steve wakes up in a sweat, and not just from the summer heat.

he had a dream about you and now his boxers feel too tight. he slides a hand down, brushing against the scars healed over on his tumny, before squeezing his clothed bulge for some kind of relief.

but then he realizes. he still doesn’t have a song.

he makes it to the squawk tired, a little horny, and pissed off. and when he pushes open the glass front doors open and is immediately met with robin’s wide smile.

“so…” she starts as he drops his backpack by his chair in the booth. “today’s the day, loverboy. you got a song?”

he just groans in response, dropping down in his chair before immediately standing back up and walking out of the booth, over to the shelves of records.

“i’m taking that as a ‘no’?” robin says.

“how the hell am i supposed to do this?” he asks and robin stares at him in confusion.

“what do you mean? just pick a love song and—”

“but it can’t just be any love song, robin, it has to be perfect!” he exclaims frustratedly, hands finding their way to his hair immediately. “i feel like i’m going insane here, because the song has to be perfect, it has to tell her exactly how i feel and how in love with her i am but that seems impossible because i want her more than any stupid song could ever say and i have no idea how to explain that!”

“oh.”

the sound of a voice behind him makes steve freeze, then slowly turn around. you’re standing inside the squawk building, holding two coffees in your hands, and staring at him with wide eyes, like you just witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“uh, hey.” steve slips a hand into his pocket in an attempt to seem casual. “i, uh, didn’t realize you were… you’re– you’re early.”

“yeah.” you say, and your eyes shift over to robin. “uh, robin asked me if i could come by a little earlier today…”

steve shoots her a glare over his shoulder and she just shrugs, walking towards you and asking which coffee is hers. then she takes it, thanks you, and leaves the room saying, “i’ll leave you two alone.”

the silence is awkward immediately. steve’s panicking internally, and you’re just watching him.

“so, uh, how much of that did you hear?” he asks and you chuckle.

“well, all of it.” you reply. “i was kinda pulling into the driveway when you got here. i think you might’ve been just a little distracted.”

“right.” steve nods and you do the same, a little awkwardly, before you step forward and hold out his drink. “yeah, thanks.”

he takes the coffee and stares down at it. he has to say something now. he has to.

“lucky girl.” you speak first and he looks back up at you.

“hm?” he looks puzzled.

“the girl you were talking about.” you clarify. “the one you said you were in love with. you know? ‘i want her more than any stupid song could say’? she sounds lucky. you’re a good guy, steve.”

you give him a small smile, different to the one you usually give him, this one’s sadder, and it takes steve a moment to process exactly why as you turn back towards the front doors.

“she’s you!” he blurts out and you spin around.

“what?” you stare at him, you blink once, and steve feels sick.

“you’re the… the ‘lucky girl’ you were talking about.” steve swallows before setting his coffee cup down and walking over to you. “i’m in love with you. i love everything about you, and i’ve just been scared to tell you for months because i don’t want to ruin anything between us. i was gonna do this thing, robin said to, you know, dedicate a song to you on the radio but…”

you haven’t said a word the entire time he’s been talking, but you also aren’t running and screaming, so that’s a good sign.

“not a single stupid song can even scratch the surface of how i feel about you.” he says, and then he waits. he watches you carefully, and you don’t give him a reaction. 

then a smile cracks through your features and relief floods steve’s body.

“well, that’s very lucky for me.” you chuckle breathily. “you know, considering the fact i’m in love with you, too.”

“really?” he asks and you nod rather enthusiastically.

“you kinda make it hard not to.” you confess and he just grins. “i mean, you’re funny, brave, kind, i mean, you’ve definitely grown up a lot since high school and, well, you’re hot.”

he laughs, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair before looking back down at you, your eyes meeting. “so are you.”

a soft chuckle escapes your lips and a moment later you’re both just standing there and staring at each other, now closer than before. steve reaches out to carefully grab your waist.

“can i kiss you?”

“yes.” you say as if it’s obvious and steve’s mouth connects with yours within seconds, probably setting some kind of record with that speed. your hands slide up his body immediately, one gripping his shoulder while the other slides around his neck.

steve pours his entire heart into it, melting into you, moulding into something that’s yours and only yours. he’s not thinking of anything else, just the warmth of your body against his hands and the feeling of your lips on his.

he lifts one hand from your waist to cup your cheek instead, pulling back slightly just to kiss you again, aiming a little higher so he can take your entire upper lip into his mouth.

it’s uncertain exactly how long the two of you just stand there kissing, but the sound of a hand slamming against glass is enough to break you up.

steve looks over to see robin in the soundbooth, tapping her wrist to mimic a watch while saying something neither of you could hear through the walls. looking down at his watch, steve realizes he’s got about five minutes until they’re supposed to be on air.

“shit, i gotta go.” he groans and lowers his wrist. your arms are still linked around his neck. “can i take you out on a date tonight?”

“mm, no.” you say and he frowns. “i think we should skip that step and you should ask me to be your girlfriend.”

the frown disappears just as quickly as it had appeared and steve chuckles. “will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes, of course.” you reply, clearly trying your hardest to hold back a smile and stay composed. steve doesn’t hide his own smile.

“great.” he leans forward and kisses you once more before stepping back, closer to the door to the soundbooth. “i’m gonna pick you up from work later, alright?”

“yeah, alright.” you smile and he nods, opening the door. “steve.”

he turns back quickly. “yeah?”

“your coffee.” you gesture to the cup he had set down a moment earlier and he hurried over to grab it.

“thanks, honey. i’ll see you later, yeah?” he calls out as you head for the door. “i love you!”

“i love you, too!”

steve closes the soundbooth door and takes his place in his chair before he looks over at robin, who’s staring at him with an ‘i told you so’ expression. he gives her a shrug and she rolls her eyes before they’re on air.

“good morning, hawkins! this is wsqk 94.5 fm, ‘the squawk’ and i am your dj, rockin’ robin, and ladies and gentlemen, love is in the air this morning because our very own soundboard stevie has made a move! that’s right, folks, steve’s got a girlfriend. so, to celebrate the very new relationship we’re starting this morning off with a little love song…”

steve queues up a sound effect, but even robin’s teasing and antics can’t wipe the smile from his face.

–

a/n: just a little oneshot before i start posting my new series ahh!!! hope u guys like this one i think it's cute. everyone should go listen to 'you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love' by olivia rodrigo right now!!!