i am a museum of everything i love

you decide to make yourself a coffee and hopefully put some life back in you. it's too late when you realise you've accidentally made a second one for steve out of habit. you look at the second mug and sigh. the sight only makes you more despaired. two cups of coffee it is. not like you couldn't use the extra caffeine.

you sit down and turn on the tv. surely there's something, anything good on. you sip on your coffee as you surf the channels, and of course, nothing you'd be interested in is on. you frustratedly switch the tv off and gulp down your coffee—it just tastes stale now.

your mind goes back to a week ago, steve coming up behind you (as always) as you make your morning coffee. him joking that yours doesn't need any sugar because you're already so sweet. sipping slowly while sitting pressed up next to him on the very same couch. the memory puts a smile on your face, but it quickly fades as you're brought back to reality and remember he's not here.

you almost wish you could call him with some kind of bad news. he'd come rushing home and take care of you, soothe away the pain, and make you forget he was even gone. perhaps you could say you'd fallen and got a concussion? you don't get much further with your plotting before you're jolted out of it by the high-pitched trill of the phone. you run over to answer.

"hello?" you say, hoping for one specific voice to be on the other end.

"hey, girl" says robin. you feel slightly deflated but nevertheless glad to hear your friend's voice.

"hey, robin. what's up?"

"damn, don't sound so happy to hear me." robin says sarcastically. you can practically hear her roll her eyes at you. "what's got you so down?"

"oh- no, nothing's wrong. sorry, i didn't know i sounded like that" you say awkwardly.

"ohhh i get it. dingus's been gone. you're finally start to miss him, i see."

"...yeah. go ahead, laugh. it's pretty pathetic."

"aw that's not pathetic at all. to be honest, i thought you'd get here much sooner, though. did you run out of romance movies?"

"yup—and flour to bake, and i've done literally everything that needs to be done. i'm just bored out of my mind."

"ah, then that's perfect. i was just calling to tell you—eddie's having a party. as usual, the full ordeal. you in?"

"i don't know, robin. i don't really feel like going anywhere."

"come onnn, you need something to get your mind off steve. staying cooped up isn't gonna do you any good. pleaseee?"

you pause for a second. she's right, of course. and hanging out with your friends always puts you in a good mood.

"okay, i'll be there."

"YAY, great. meet you there at 7?"

"alright. see you later."

"bye!" she hangs up.

you're about to turn back to the couch when the phone rings again.

"hello?"

"hey, sweetheart. how are you?" says your favourite voice, and the sound seems to immediately bring you a sense of relief.

"steve!" you say, the smile on your face almost certainly audible in your voice. "i'm good, how are you?"

"good. you're still doing ok over there? keeping yourself busy?"

"yeah, yeah. it's been fine." you try not to let your true feelings show as it did for robin. the last thing you want is for steve to worry about you. "i just spoke to robin. eddie's having a party tonight and robin just asked me to come. so that's my plans for tonight. how's the trip going?"

"that's great, hope you have a good time. the trip is a drag, as you can imagine. still got no idea why my parents, who've been away on these things my whole life, now suddenly needed me here on one. so far i haven't seen a good reason. can't wait to be back home with you. missing you so much, baby."

your heart swells knowing he's in a similar headspace, though hopefully not as severe as yours. "i miss you too, stevie. so much."

"well, just two more days of soul-crushing boredom to endure before i'm finally back with you. you sure you're alright there?"

"yeah, why do you ask?"

"...just checking. ok, i've gotta go now. i'll call you later, ok sweetheart?"

"yep. bye, i love you." you try to mask the disheartened tone in your voice as the call ends.

"love you too, baby."

you hope you've hidden your sadness well enough to keep steve from worrying too much about you. you head to your room to find yourself an outfit for later.

loud music blasts from inside eddie's house. you can hear chatter and laughter all the way from the curb. even from out here, you can feel the buzz in the atmosphere undoing the gloom you've carried with you all day.

you enter the house, and you're met with people everywhere. it's a little overwhelming at first, but you cut through the crowd as you try to find robin.

to your relief, you find her getting a drink in the kitchen.

"hey robin," you say loudly, talking over the music as you approach her.

"hey! you made it!" she says as she hugs you. "good to see you not moping around anymore. here," she hands you a drink.

"thanks. it does feel good to be around people."

"yeah, i know. i'm right, as always." she smiles proudly.

you two head over to the couches to sit with nancy and jonathan. as the group converses, the feeling starts to wear off and you find yourself missing steve again. whenever someone makes a joke, you turn to laugh along with him, only to remember he's not there.

soon vickie joins you and the group. the conversation continues as normal, but now that you're pretty much fifth-wheeling, the longing for your boyfriend only intensifies.

you take notice, more deeply than ever, of jonathan's arm around nancy's waist, robin's hand resting on vickie's thigh, the way nancy looks at jonathan as he shares a story. it's stupid, but you can't help but get that empty feeling you've felt all day. this would all be so much better with your steve there next to you. you excuse yourself, saying you're going to the bathroom, and try to find somewhere not so crowded.

"hey, how's it going?" eddie comes up to you as you enter the backyard.

"hey eddie. great party." you say as enthusiastically as you can.

"then what are you doing out here?" he laughs.

"just getting some air."

"alrighty. your other half didn't tag along out here with you?"

the question makes your heart sink a little. "he's not here, actually. he's out of town."

"you sure?"

"yeah," you laugh confusedly. "why?"

"then who's that?" eddie says, pointing inside the house behind you.

you turn around, and you feel your whole body light up. steve is trying to make his way to you, getting stopped every few seconds by people saying hi to him. his eyes flicker back to you as he tries to move through the crowd of people, and his face softens the second he lays eyes on you. he waves as he makes his way to you.

"no way," you say to yourself, a huge smile plastered on your face as you wave back.

finally steve reaches the back door and you run into his arms before he even makes it outside.

you're engulfed in his scent, his warm, strong arms around you, and you feel like you're finally back to life. this feels like home.

"stevie! you're back!" you with your face still pressed against his chest. you pull back to cradle his face and look at him. you've missed his face so much, you can't help but kiss him all over.

"oookay, i'll give you lovebirds some space," says eddie, as he heads back inside.

"i missed you so so much! how on earth are you back? you still have two more days there," you say all too quickly.

"i left right after we called, angel. as much as i appreciate you trying to mask it, you sounded so sad. it broke my heart, thinking of you being sad and lonely for two whole more days," steve says in his softest voice, stroking your hair.

"but you're sure it's fine that you left?" you ask with concern.

"well... whether it's fine or whether my parents will get over it are two different stories. but it was so incredibly boring that i don't even care. besides, i couldn't stand being away from my baby much longer." he looks down at you with more tenderness than ever before.

you capture his lips in a deep kiss, and feel the weight of the last few days dissipate into nothing. he wraps an arm around your waist, pressing you up against him. he pulls back and drags his eyes over you, taking in every detail of your face.

"god, i missed you so much," steve says softly. "come on, let's go back in. it's so cold out here."

he leads you back inside through the crowd of people with his warm hand on your lower back. you find your group and head towards them.

"dingus! you're back!" says robin as she sees the two of you approaching.

your friends get up and greet steve. you all talk for a while, light conversation, but the whole time steve's arm stays firmly on your waist, and you lean into his side. after about five minutes, and conversation starts to dwindle, you feel steve squeeze your waist.

"wanna get out of here?" you hear him whisper in your ear. his voice drops lower as he says, "wanna show you just how much i missed you."

your face flushes as you look up at him with a knowing smile.

"thought you'd never ask" you whisper back with a chuckle.

"hey guys," steve says to your friends. "it's been real fun seeing you guys, but we're gonna head home."

"steve's tired from the drive over," you add.

you say goodbye to your friends, which naturally takes another few minutes in itself, and you practically skip out the door, hand in hand with steve.

you watch your boyfriend as he opens the car door for you and sigh contentedly. it's true, what they say—absence does make the heart grow fonder. you're eager to find out just how fond.

Robin threw her head back in laughter, the sound so endearing that it made you want to laugh too. But you couldn’t. There was nothing comical about this situation at all.

“So he called your house just… out of nowhere?” She asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah! He got my number from Nancy.. said he’s tried everyone and he’s desperate!”

“How long do you think you’ll last before he pisses you off and you quit?” Your best friend smirked, moving to lie beside you on your bed.

“I’m already irritated!” You exclaimed, covering your eyes with your hands before sliding them down your face. Robin chuckled and you gave her a stern look.

“I do need the money though..” You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down so hard it was almost painful. “And the extra credit.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, staring up at your ceiling and letting yourself get lost in The Clash album that was spilling from your record player.

“Surely it won’t be that bad.” Robin replied, not sounding entirely convinced herself.

————

It in fact was that bad.

Steve had arrived at your meet up spot in the back of the library fifteen minutes late, usually perfect hair unruly and panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Sorry I’m late- coach made me stay back for skipping last week.”

You huffed out a laugh, your first session already off to a great start.

“Just.. sit down.” You gestured to the empty seat beside you, trying not to let your distaste for this situation blatantly obvious. “Let’s start before we lose more time.”

You pulled out your worn copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, placing it on the table in front of him. He looked at it like it was a completely foreign object, twisting his pen between his fingers.

“Which part are you struggling with?”

“All of it.” He answered quickly, eyes wide.

“Have you even read the book?” You scoffed, partly in disbelief.

He shook his head and gave you a shy smile. You tried to keep your composure, though your cool demeanour was cracking a little.

“Just- take my copy and read it, okay? It has all the annotations and everything.” You flipped through the pages, showing him the highlighted sections and colored sticky notes you’d added, before pushing it towards him.

“We’ll start with character analysis” You pulled out your notebook and he mirrored you. “Or at least you can learn the names.”

————

After 20 agonising minutes you’d finally made a somewhat decent mind map, half of it in Steve’s oddly neat handwriting and the rest scrawled down by your iron grip on the pen.

You leaned back in your chair, finally looking over at him.

“You’re off the hook, Harrington. I need to be on time for my shift.”

He nodded, keeping that intense eye contact that was kind of his trademark.

“Thank you, really.” He pulled a crumpled 20 dollar bill from his backpack and handed it to you, his face more sincere than you’d ever seen it.

You found yourself lost for words briefly, lips curling into a smile before you remembered who you were talking to.

“Just… read the book okay? I’ll see you next week.”

With that you, gathered your things, b-lining towards the double doors before he could walk alongside you.

————

The next session was a little better.

“Did you read it?” You asked, taking a seat across from the boy who had already been sat waiting for you. At least he looked a bit more put together today, clad in those too-tight jeans and a maroon sweater.

“Yep! Well… most of it.”

“You learn anything?” You replied sarcastically and he just hummed in response, pushing the book towards you on the desk and prompting you to open it.

You did, flipping through the pages to find highlighted sections and added notes in that damn cursive writing. It shocked you that he’d actually tried, and you felt something akin to pride swelling in your chest. You didn’t let it show though - didn’t give him the praise he was so used to receiving.

“You take notes?”

He opened his notebook, proudly showing you a few pages of analysis he’d written.

“Wow.” You replied, the words coming out less sarcastic than you’d intended them. “Maybe you do have a shot at graduating.”

He chuckled at that, dipping his head almost shyly. You hated it - hated that it was endearing.

“Okay.” You straightened up, taking a deep exhale. “Now let’s do themes. Click’s test is on Friday so you’re gonna wanna prepare.”

You spend the next 15 minutes reading excerpts and explaining the symbolism behind them, watching from the corner of your eye as he took notes as quickly as he could. When you finished reading, silence fell upon you and he took the opportunity to finally open his mouth.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He muttered, and you hummed in question even though you’d heard him perfectly.

“You said your grades aren’t that good, but you’re really smart. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He repeated, more sure of himself now.

You parted your lips but no sound came out, not sure how to respond to his unprompted comment. Part of you thought you could say the same about him.

“Thanks.” You forced, “I don’t really get time to study all that much, so…” You trailed off, weirded out by the strangely personal nature of the conversation.

“Why?” He replied sharply.

“Well I work. A lot. And my Mom works all the time so I have to take care of my brother a lot of the time-“ The last syllable came out in a gulp; you were suddenly aware that you’d just told him to much.

He looked almost sorry, and you swallowed back the feeling that invoked. You hated being pitied, especially by Steve Harrington. He must have seen the way your expression soured, because he looked back down at his work, not daring to pry further into it.

“Well if it counts for anything, I think you’re smart.”

It doesn’t you wanted to say, but deep down, it did.

————

Robin was waiting by your locker when you finally made it out of there, still dressed in her band uniform and carrying that comically large trumpet case.

“It go well?” She asked, pushing off the wall with her foot and giving you a smile.

You just let out a huff of air in response, standing dejected as she came to walk by your side.

“You wanna go get ice cream? I’m not working tonight.”

She accepted instantly, and the pair of you made your way to your beater where Robin hauled her instrument into the trunk.

You rounded the car to the driver door, pulling on the handle when a familiar laugh stopped you in your tracks.

You turned to come face to face with Tommy H and Carol, who stood smugly against a familiar maroon beamer. Steve himself wasn’t there, but they were leaning up against the car like they owned it.

“You going anywhere nice?” Carol chimed as Robin shut the trunk with an unsatisfying thump that shook the whole car.

“You better be careful that piece of shit doesn’t explode in the middle of the highway.” Tommy added, laughing as cigarette smoke curled from his lips.

You just climbed in and shut the door, refusing to even engage. Robin rolled her eyes beside you, immediately fiddling with the radio dial as soon as you put the keys in the ignition.

“Assholes…” She muttered, the two of you watching as Steve came into view, greeting Tommy with a pat on the back.

You whipped out of the lot as fast as you could, the scene a sudden but needed reminder of who Steve really was. An asshole.

————

Your car faintly smelled sickly sweet - the aroma of chocolate and strawberry mixing with the permanent oil smell in the front seat.

Robin laughed around her ice cream, almost choking as she struggled to finish the rest of her story.

“-Then Jennifer practically lit her hair on fire with the bunsen burner… and Kaminski was sooo pissed you should have seen it.”

You giggled, adjusting your feet on the dash as you indulged in your own cone. The laughter died down, leaving nothing but the two of you and the thick evening air in the parking lot of the diner.

“Sooo…” You started, narrowing your eyes at your best friend. “Did you talk to Tammy yet?”

Robin let out a strangled sigh, slamming her head down onto the dashboard in frustration.

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

She nodded, barely lifting her head.

“She’s a total dud anyway.” You shrugged, and she peaked over at you.

“She is not!”

“Oh yes she is!”

Robin sat up straight, staring out into the sunset with an almost glazed over look in her eyes. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Rob? Hey…” You reached out and rubbed her back, sensing something was up just from the lack of words leaving her mouth.

“She’s obsessed with that dickwad.” She spat the last word out like she’d been chewing on it for hours.

“Who?”

“Steve.”

You sighed at the mention of his name.

“Yeah well… you can do so much better anyways. That girl is tone-deaf.” You attempted at lightening the mood and Robin shot you a stern look despite the smile growing on her face.

“I don’t wanna talk about that anymore.” She said sharply, suddenly straightening up and resting her body against the passenger door to fully face you. “Actually, speaking of Ste-“

“Oh god.” It was your turn to cover your head with your hands now. “It was so weird.”

“Weird?” She laughed. “Weird like bad weird?”

“Yeah. He randomly was like… telling me how smart I am and being like… Nice?”

Robin shot you a confused look, still clearly finding this comical.

“Uh oh.” She responded, her face suddenly serious.

“Uh oh?” You panicked.

“He’s using his charm on you.” She broke out into laughter again.

“He is not!” You shot back.

“So is!”

You gave her a playful shove, your face turning a little red despite yourself.

“And it’s working” She giggled, ducking when you aimed another jab at her.

“Shut up!” You replied, offended that she would even suggest that. “He’s an asshole!”

“Mhm” She hummed, shoving the last of her cone in her mouth smugly.

————

The next day, you were halfway through dinner with Will when the sound of the phone cut you off mid-bite. You slammed your fork down into your macaroni and headed to answer it, expecting just a call from your Mom at work or maybe Robin or a coworker. Either way, they had called in the middle of dinner and royally pissed you off.

The moment you put the receiver to your ear a frantic voice rang out.

“I need you to help me.”

“Steve?”

“My Dad’s gonna fucking kill me if I don’t pass this test.” Before you could even muster up a response he spoke again.

“Can you fit an extra session in before Friday? Please?”

You sighed, rubbing your temple as you considered your options.

“Hello?”

“Okay..” You huffed out, not exactly sure why you were helping him. “Tomorrow at lunch.”

“I can’t. I have practice.”

“Just skip it!”

“I can’t! It’s our big game on Friday!” He shot back, voice growing even more desperate. If you weren’t so irritated, you might have enjoyed the sound of the over-confident king Steve begging on his knees.

Your patience was wearing thin now, and you were acutely aware of your TV dinner getting colder by the second and your little brother who was listening to this whole conversation.

He took note of your silence, because of course he did.

“Please, Byers.”

Another beat.

“Okay. Fine.” You replied reluctantly, partly just because you wanted to get off the phone. “I have some time after my shift. I finish at 7.”

“Great. Thank you- just- shall we study at yours then?”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze wandering to your little brother who was just happily munching away, then to the clutter that surrounded him.

“I- I don’t think-“

“You can just come here.” He cut you off before you even had to think of a shitty excuse, and you were partly grateful, but also annoyed by the prospect of having to go to Steve Harringtons house. In the one class you shared, math, he hadn't even acknowledged you above a smile since this whole tutoring thing started; now he wanted you at his house?

“I’ll see you then. Thanks. Bye.” He added, and just like that the line went dead before you could even give him any kind of response.

You placed the phone back in its holder, your little brother wasting no time in asking questions.

So when your already balding tire pops in the middle of a country road, half a mile from the nearest military outpost and nearly three miles to the station, the only logical solution is to abandon your car and start walking.

You might not understand the extent of why the military has taken over Hawkins, but you’re not stupid enough to trust their good intentions.

 The sun beats down on your neck as you trudge through overgrown grass, annoyed and muttering and hitching your purse up higher on your shoulder, cursing everything that you can think of for this being your luck.

(After all, you’d only moved to Hawkins to attend the Ivy Tech campus since it was the closest one to your hometown. And now you’re stuck in a god damn lock down.)

It’s ridiculous, honestly. You’d just wanted cheap college credits before moving onto IUPUI or Ball State, knowing full well that you couldn’t afford rent in Bloomington or Lafayette. And now you’re stuck here with the rest of the town, roughing it with everyone else too stupid to not evacuate when you were given the chance. 

Which makes it all the more annoying when an overly familiar maroon sedan pulls up next to you, rolls a window down, and out comes Steve Harrington’s voice: “Is there a reason you’re taking a hike through town?”

As if your day couldn’t get any worse.

“I thought the exercise in the dead of winter would do me some good,” you say, continuing to plant one foot in front of another. The Beamer crawls alongside you. “Perfect weather for it, don’t you think?”

Your name slips from his lips flatly. “Are you serious?”

“Jesus, Steve, are you always this dense?” you snap. “No, clearly not. My car broke down a mile back and I didn’t feel like being harassed by some military goons to get some help.”

“What’s wrong with your car?”

You whip around to stare at him. “What?”

The BMW comes to a halt, and he gives you an unimpressed look. “Your car. What’s wrong with it?”

“Tire burst,” you say, “Why do you care?”

Steve frowns but doesn’t answer your question, only saying, “Get in.”

“What?”

“Are you always this dense?” he shoots back. “Get in the car, sweetheart, before we’re both late.”

The endearment does something funny to your chest, though you studiously ignore it, choosing to scowl instead.

It’s been a few weeks since your… entanglement with him in the closet, and since then things have been weird. As in: He’s been calling you sweetheart and honey and baby whenever Robin wasn’t listening. As in: The two of you have made out in the closet several times since. As in: Things have somehow turned more hostile than ever before, yet you’re left with the feeling that you got caught inside the world’s angriest version of foreplay.

(As in: You like the fact you’re caught inside the world’s angriest version of foreplay.)

(Not that you would admit this to anyone, much less Steve.)

“I think I’m fine walking,” you airily say, sticking your nose in the air and turning away. 

“Are you serious?” Steve asks, exasperated. “Seriously, just get in the damn car.”

You sniff imperiously. “Make me.”

You barely make it three steps before you hear the parking brake yanked up and the driver’s side door getting thrown open. Two more steps and one large hand grasps your forearm, spinning you around and forcing you to look at the barely restrained fury in his eyes. 

“Why can you not just listen for once?” he demands. 

“Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” you retort. “I can do whatever the hell I want, Steve, and—”

But he has no interest in listening to whatever it is you’re about to say, not when he splays a palm across your back and forcibly turns you around, pushing you towards the idling vehicle with the urgency only a man standing in ten degree weather without a coat could have.

(You pretend the warmth of his hand between all the layers you’re wearing doesn’t make you shiver, and you know he’s pretending not to notice how affected you are by just how easy it is for him to maneuver your body.)

“So fucking stubborn,” he mutters, clearly not caring that you can hear him loud and clear as he yanks open the passenger door. And despite how he’s manhandled you to where he wants you, he’s gentle when he helps you into the seat, his calloused palm holding onto your hand for balance as you get settled. 

Seconds later, he’s sliding back behind the wheel and shifting into second, peeling away.

You sink down into the leather, crossing your arms and looking out the window, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Steve sets the station to your favorite music.

The two of you go all of five minutes, passing nothing but trees and empty fields, before he finally bursts out, “You could at least say ‘thank you.’”

“For what?” you ask. “Kidnapping me off the side of the road?”

“I didn’t—” he starts before snapping his mouth shut with an audible click. “It’s not safe to be wandering around the middle of nowhere. You don’t know the shit that’s out there, and—”

“Steve.” His name comes out sharper than intended. “It’s not like I could drive to the station without a tire. What option did I have?” 

A muscle in his jaw twitches and several tense seconds pass before he reaches into the backseat, blindly reaching for something and dropping it into your lap.

You glance down, baffled to find a walkie talkie.

“What’s this for?”

“Uh, to contact me if there’s an emergency,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

(It’s not.)

“Keep it on channel nine,” he continues. “And, like, I’m serious. Your car breaks down, you’re going to be late to work, there’s some weird guy at your apartment — just radio.”

A few beats of silence pass, Steve’s cheeks reddening as you gawk at him, before you finally burst out, “You know I can take care of myself, right?”

“Jesus fucking — yes! I do know!” He turns away from the road long enough to glare at you. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve never once doubted your ability to do that. My point is — if you need something, just call.”

You bite your tongue, refusing to answer.

“Do you understand?” he asks.

You cross your arms petulantly, staring out the window.

But Steve’s always been one to push your buttons, and in the next moment, the car comes to a screeching halt, your chin is in his hand, and he turns your face until you’re looking him dead in the eye.

Your breath hitches.

His gaze drops down to your lips, obviously and clearly, before sliding back up to meet your eyes. “I said…” he begins quietly, threateningly, and you feel dizzy with arousal. “Do you understand?”

“Fuck you,” you say, less steady than you’d like.

His eyes narrow and his thumb presses a little harder into your chin. “Sweetheart,” he says. “I asked you a question.”

His thumb slips up your chin, pushing its way past your lips until he’s pressing down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open. Drool pools as he tilts your head up and down, making you nod in agreement, and he releases you with a smile.

“Good,” he says, wiping his hand on his sweater. You swallow heavily. “Glad we could come to an agreement.”

The thing about working with Steve—

Well, there are several things about working at the station with Steve. 

He has abysmal taste in music, despite the fact that Robin has — from what you’ve heard — been trying to get him to listen to something other than The J. Geils Band and whatever is on the Top 40 list. When he drinks coffee, it’s always with a splash of milk and two sugars, and the one time you made him a cup, he grimaced with every sip because you added too much milk but didn’t correct you. 

And, no matter what, he insists on you playing at least one Kate Bush song every night.

(You don’t ask.)

(He doesn’t elaborate.)

It happens after the synth in Running Up That Hill fades out, right as you’re sliding the Madonna record you want to play next into the other turntable.

The lights flicker. 

Steve sucks in a breath as you slip the headphones from your ears, looking up at the bulb overhead that continues to go in and out. You barely get a chance to turn in your seat before he’s next to you, his fingers digging painfully into your shoulder.

There’s a hiss.

The next thing you know, the bulb goes out with a loud crack, the hum of electricity cuts out, and the two of you are shrouded in darkness.

“What the hell?” you ask.

You try to stand, but Steve keeps you in place, hissing, “Quiet.”

The entire station goes dead silent, and for a moment, neither of you move.

Anxiety crawls up your spine as your heart beats loudly in your ears. Steve’s hold on your shoulder loosens marginally, enough for you to reach up and tangle your fingers with his, squeezing tightly for something. 

(For comfort or relief, you’re not sure.)

He squeezes back once before pulling away. You want to protest — you open your mouth, ready to yell at him to come back — but he only shifts over far enough to grab a flashlight off of the nearby shelf, flicking it on and illuminating the room around you once more.

He glances towards you, concern written all over his face when he asks, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just…” You frown, trying and failing to keep apprehension from building a home in your chest. “I wasn’t expecting that. Did a fuse blow or something?”

“I don’t know,” he says. There’s something conflicted on his face when he turns between you and the door to the booth, like there’s a decision he needs to make but he’s not sure what the correct choice is. Whatever that choice is though, he ends up saying, “Come with me.”

You nod and, without a second thought, reach for him once more.

His hand is warm and sure in your own as he tugs you along with him, entirely at odds with how tense his shoulders are as the two of you make your way through the station. He’s silent, too, in a way that you’ve never once associated with him; His footsteps are inaudible against the tile floor and his breathing is practically nonexistent. Your nerves are practically fraying at the seams, and you do your best to imitate his motions but he clearly has much more practice with going unnoticed than you do.

(Though going unnoticed by what—)

(You’re not quite sure.)

It’s only once he’s made three entire rounds of the station that he relaxes, pulling you to a stop in the middle of a sitting area.

“Well, that was pointless,” you say with a huff. “Seriously, Steve, what the hell are you doing? Just go find the power box and see if a fuse blew or something, and then we can—”

The phone in the office rings, and Steve jumps. Jumps. He physically pushes you behind him, the light flashing across the room. You stare at the back of his head, entirely unimpressed before shoving past him, ignoring his hurried, “Wait, wait! Jesus Christ, could you just listen—”

You snatch up the phone, saying, “This is WSQK the Squawk. How can I help you!”

“Oh!” comes Robin’s voice. “Hey, sorry, I thought Steve would pick up. You two alright? The power went down all over Hawkins, but I couldn’t tell if the outage would’ve reached you guys all the way out there.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine,” you say with a backwards glance towards Steve who, by all accounts, looks ready to throttle you. You give him a sweet smile. He glowers. “Any idea on when the power will be back on?”

“Ugh, I wish,” Robin sighs. “I’m at Nance’s house right now and Mr. Wheeler’s rattling off some conspiracy theory about the military being behind it. I think he’s just mad that his nightly news got cut off. Oh — I gotta run, Mrs. Wheeler is calling us all upstairs. Give Steve my love!”

“Will do,” you wryly say. “Bye, Robin.”

Barely three seconds pass after you place the phone back on the base before Steve crosses the threshold, dropping the flashlight on the desk and gripping your face between his two palms as he backs you into the desk. There’s a dangerous lilt to his voice when he demands, “Would it kill you to listen for once in your fucking life?”

“Hm,” you say, a thrill shooting straight to your core.”To you? Probably.”

He searches your face, barely restrained rage tugging at the edges of his frame, and in the next moment, his lips crash into yours. He’s demanding as he presses you further into the wood veneer, bruising when his hands slip down to hold you by the nape of your neck, holding you still and steady to be used for his every want and desire. You gasp, thrilled, and he wastes no time pressing his tongue in, hedonistic in his desire to be in control, his need to consume you whole.

Not that you make it easy for him.

You thrash against his hold, clawing your nails down his arms, biting down on his bottom lip just hard enough to hear him moan.

But the two of you know that it’s all for show — all for your pride.

You don’t want him to stop. Not when he’s this worked up.

(You have a feeling, an instinct in the back of your head, that tells you he’d know the second you did want him to stop, even if you never spoke it, and that he’d back away immediately.)

(Somehow, this only turns you on more.)

And all at once, he pulls away, his chest heaving as he asks, “Are you going to listen now?” 

“To you?” you spit back. “Never.”

In the dim light, he’s glowing. Hair messed up, cheeks flushed, sweater crooked. All masculine bravado and pride. The look of a man who is far too used to not being listened to, and one who has decided that this is where he draws the line.

This is his breaking point, his point of no return, his final stand.

His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with molten desire as he smirks. His hands drop down, and his calloused fingers are rough against the soft skin of your waist as he dips under the hem of your shirt.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, inching closer and closer to your center, right above the zipper of your jeans.

You tilt your chin up, pressing your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Yeah,” he says with a little laugh, tone dripping with condescension. “That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

One second you’re upright, and in the next, you’re spread along the surface of the desk, bereft of your jeans and shoes. You prop yourself up on your elbows just as he drops to his knees, spreading your legs open and pressing a kiss into the fatty flesh of your thigh.

He wastes no time in peeling your panties down, shaking his head when he finds just how wet you are. “Is this all for me, baby? Really?”

“No,” you tell him smartly, despite the evidence otherwise. “It’s for some other schmuck.”

Steve’s entirely unamused when he says, “Oh, I’m sure.”

He presses a trail of kisses up to your core, and with the voracity of a starved man, dives into your cunt with reckless abandon.

He licks a long line up the seam of your pussy, and you can feel his grin as he sucks your clit into his mouth. Pleasure shoots through your body, and you’re aware in a vague, distant way that all of the weeks since you sucked him off in the closet — a moment that you’ve repeatedly replayed in your head, when it’s late at night with your hand sliding under the hem of your pajama pants — have been leading up to this. 

Here, this moment, with his head bracketed by your thighs. All of the escalating arguments and name calling and Robin begging off having to interact with either of you, the stolen moments in the closet with his fingers gripping your skin so hard it left bruises, his teeth nipping at your neck. The tension building and building and building until you finally pushed him enough for it to boil over.

And, god, does it feel good to have him flick his tongue against your clit, to have two thick fingers slip inside your dripping pussy and curl against that spongey spot you have such a hard time reaching yourself.

Your hips jerk up, but he’s quick to pin you back down, pulling back just enough to snap, “Don’t move.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, to push him even more, but his teeth scrape against your clit and the only thing you can do is fall back against the desk as he continues to work at you, the pleasure building and growing and pressing at every corner of your mind until—

Until it stops completely.

You look down just as Steve pulls away with a shit eating grin, his chin glistening with evidence of your arousal, and he asks, “What’s wrong, baby? Did you need something?”

Everything positive thought you’d had about him is replaced with indignant rage. “You’re such an asshole, Steve.”

“Oh, am I?” he asks. “I guess you don’t want to come then, huh?”

You freeze. “Wait, what?”

But he doesn’t answer, only slips his fingers back inside, tortuously slow as he curls them up. Lazy and controlled, his brown eyes gleaming with unbridled lust in the flashlight. 

A moan escapes you.

He keeps the pace, grinning when your hips twitch up, searching for more: More stimulation, more pleasure, more anything.

But he refuses to give it to you.

Steve utterly delights in keeping you on the edge, keeping you wanting. He applies just enough pressure to have you squirming, but pulls away when you get too close. He continues the slow drag in and out of your pussy, bullying another finger inside until you’re shuddering and clenching down on his hands. He nips at your thighs, leaving marks all along your skin with a stern, “So you remember who fucked you this well tomorrow.”

You attempt to aim a kick at his arm, but he simply grasps your ankle and tugs you ever closer to his mouth, pressing a kiss into your mound.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks, twisting his fingers until you whimper. “You told me to return the favor when you were having a bad day. Or were you lying when you said that?”

You bite down on your lip, refusing to answer. 

And then, suddenly, he pulls his hands away, leaving you painfully empty before he slaps your cunt — light enough for it to not hurt, but hard enough for it to send a jolt through your body. You whimper, and he grins, eyes gleaming as he asks, "What happened to you being such a whiny bitch, huh?"

"Fuck you," you snap, winding your fingers through his hair and yanking until he's back to where you ache the most. “You’re the world’s biggest dick, Steve. So fucking rude, all the time. Always mouthing off, always trying to get under my skin. Why can’t you use your mouth for something more useful?”

He grins into your pussy, dipping his tongue inside your core and licking a stripe up to your clit, flicking the tip over the nerve until you’re squealing, holding your thighs open and forcing you to take it.

He brings you to the edge one more time, pulling back just as your orgasm is about to crash into you, and laughing when you lurch forward, trying and failing to pull him back towards you.

“Why?” you sob. “Why won’t you—?”

“Beg.”

His voice comes out so serious, so cold, that everything inside of you pauses.

“What?”

“Beg me to let you come,” he says, like this isn’t the most insane thing someone has ever told you during sex. “Since you can’t remember how to mind your manners and say ‘thank you,’ I think it’s only fair that I teach you some, right?”

“What the hell is your problem, Steve?” you demand.

But he ignores you, bringing the pad of his thumb back up to your clit, drawing harsh circles around it until he’s forced to pin your hips down, keeping you exactly where he wants you as the pleasure builds back up once more, teetering on the edge of something more, building and building and taking and— 

“Please.”

His thumb freezes.

There’s an indecipherable look in his eyes when he glances back up towards you, and you can’t even imagine what he sees. You can feel sweat beading along your temples, and your hair is uncomfortably plastered to your neck. You feel utterly wrecked and sensitive and at your utter limit, but you know it’s only going to get worse.

(Your pussy clenches at the thought.)

“Please what?” Steve asks, more gentle than he’d been just moments before as he slips two thick fingers back inside of you, stroking along your walls until he finds the spot that has you whimpering. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Emotion wells up in your eyes as you reach down, your hand outstretched towards him, needing something to ground you.

He meets you halfway, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing.

“You can do it,” he says softly, encouraging. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come,” you whine. “Please, Steve, please, I just — I’m sorry for being mean, just please let me come.”

Steve gives you a smile, one that teeters between affectionate and condescending, and he places a kiss on your mound. He shifts upwards just as tears spill down your face, pressing kisses along your chin and tracing a path up until he’s captured your mouth with his own. His forehead meets yours as he asks, “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You gasp his name as he curls his fingers inside of you with a renewed vigor, hitting the sweet spot that has you seeing stars as his thumb slips back up, drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re openly sobbing, tightening your hold on his hand as he brings you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, licking a stripe up your cheek, gathering your tears on his tongue. “What do you want?”

“Don’t—” you gasp, arching into his hold. “Don’t — Steve, please—”

“Let go,” he says. “Let go for me, honey.”

Your orgasm doesn’t wash over you as much as it crashes into you. Your entire body shakes as you sob, grabbing at any part of him that you can reach — his shirt, his arms, his face — as waves of pleasure work through your system, only drawn out by the fact that he keeps working at your core until you’re pushing at his hand, panting, “Too much, too much—”

Slowly, he pulls his fingers away, and in the next moment, they’re nudging at your lips as he says, “Open up.”

You peek up at him through your lashes and catch the slight curl to his lips, the smirk threatening to appear, and as you open your mouth, it does. 

“There we go,” he says, condescension dripping from his tone. 

A shock of pleasure works its way through you as he feeds his fingers into your mouth, making you shudder as your tongue dips over his fingers. You taste yourself on him and moan quietly, even as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, you close your lips around them, sucking as he withdraws them.

“Quick learner,” he comments, and you narrow your eyes at him as he pushes himself up and away from you.

You drop back down to the table, chest heaving. The sound of Steve shuffling a few feet away barely registers as you catch your breath, running your hands down your face. Honestly, Steve barely registers on your radar, not until you feel him sliding flimsy cotton up your ankles. 

“What are you—?” you begin to ask, hitching yourself up onto your elbows, but you answer your own question as he pulls your panties up your legs, tugging them into place. “Steve, honestly, you don’t have to do this. I’m a big girl, I can put myself back together.”

But he only rolls his eyes and starts the process again with your jeans.

You’re honestly speechless as he rights your clothes, smoothing your hair from your face as he helps you stand on unsteady feet. His hand is warm against your back as he guides you from the office, his voice quiet as he says, “Car’s unlocked. Go wait while I lock up, alright?”

“I can help,” you argue.

The only response you get is him nudging you towards the door, his keys pressed into the palm of your hand.

The last thing you’re expecting when Steve joins you in the car, already turned on and warmed up, is for him to unceremoniously drop a bottle of water in your lap.

He busies himself with buckling in and tuning the radio — still on your favorite station, just a little bit staticky from distance — as you pick up the water, asking, “Um, what’s this for?”

He gives you a flat look. “To drink?”

You barely restrain the urge to respond with something catty — a no shit, Sherlock sitting on the tip of your tongue — but his kindness gives you pause. Instead, you simply unscrew the bottle and take a sip as he peels from the parking lot, the brick facade of the station fading into the distance.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road as he turns on the radio, still on your favorite station from earlier, and the question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

“Why are you suddenly acting like you care?”

His jaw tightens for just a moment. 

“I’ve always cared,” he softly says. “You just haven’t noticed.”

His eyes slide over to you briefly. Meaningfully.

(They look like they’re glowing in the moonlight, and you don’t know how to process this.)

You turn away first.

His words settle across your chest, winding their way around your ribs until your heart begins to beat an erratic tune. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. The car creeps closer to the edge of town, streetlights illuminating the old streets, and for the first time since your disastrous meeting with Steve, you let your guard lower.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask. “That I haven’t noticed?”

“Because you haven’t,” he replies. He says it so calmly, so non-accusatory, as though it were a facet of life he’d just learned to accept. It doesn’t sit well with you. “I’ve cared since we met, believe it or not.”

You whip around to gawk at him. “What the hell are you talking about? You’ve been an asshole since we met, Steve!”

“Only because you started it!” he shoots back. 

“Excuse me?” Your jaw drops. “I absolutely did not start this. I’m only like this because you were rude first!”

He turns to you, startled, and in the next moment pulls over onto the side of the road, yanking up the parking brake and facing you properly. “What are you talking about?”

“Our first shift together!” you say. “You were mad at, like, my entire existence! You asked Robin if you guys actually needed to hire me!”

“Excuse me?” His eyes narrow. “That’s not at all what happened. I walked into the station and you were, like, superhostile straight off the bat! And all I did was suggest playing Bruce Springsteen!”

Indignation burns brightly in your veins.

“That was our second shift together,” you correct. “But the day before that, I walked in, introduced myself, and you were just a dick for no reason? And you don’t even remember this? What the hell, Steve!”

“I—” His face twists with confusion. “No, hold on — the day before — I’d been up all night trying to find Henderson and I was running on fumes. Not that that excuses anything, but, like, that’s why I don’t remember. I hadn’t slept in over a day whenever we first met. And… I guess — everything with Dustin, and the mess that all of that has been — I guess it felt like you were doing the same thing to me that he’s been doing. Pushing me away for no reason, being an asshole. Again, not that that excuses my behavior, but…”

All of your anger comes to a crashing halt.

You don’t exactly know Dustin Henderson. You’ve met the kid, and the interactions you’ve had with him haven’t exactly given you the greatest impression of him, but Robin had assured you that Dustin was simply going through a hard time and to not take it personally. 

(But you’ve seen the way he talks to Steve. You’ve heard the tone used whenever Steve calls on those walkies to ask for help on the equipment. You’ve watched the strain in Steve’s posture when Dustin storms out of the station.)

(Even if you don’t know the full story, the undeniable truth is that you know enough.)

Slowly, conscious of the way his gaze is focused entirely on you, you reach out, sliding your hand up his calloused palm until your fingers are entangled with his. 

“What…” You lick your lips, throat suddenly dry. “Everything with Dustin. What’s going on with that?”

He lets out an aggrieved sigh, but you can tell that it’s not directed at you. It’s simply the culmination of months upon months of stress receiving the smallest of outlets. 

“It’s… complicated,” he says. “There was — well, there was the quakes. You were here for that, yeah?”

You nod.

“Like, pretty much everyone lost someone or something. It was awful. Obviously,” he continues. “But there was a moment — before — where I told Dustin and his friend to not play heroes, and the friend didn’t listen. He… he didn’t make it. He died in the quake, and Dustin… he’s just been pissed. And, like, I get it. Trust me, I do. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, and Henderson was only fourteen at the time. But he’s been shoving me away ever since, which is the long and short of it, I guess.”

You shake your head, amused. “Why does that make it sound like you knew about the quakes before they happened?”

The laugh Steve lets out sounds strained, but before you can question him further, a warm hand cups the side of your face, dragging you over the center console. 

You go willingly.

His lips are soft against yours, hesitant in a way they hadn’t been earlier. But the moment is different now; Charged, still, but not in the way it had been back in the station.

(You would be a fool to ignore whatever is happening between the two of you.)

And when he draws back, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers still holding onto your face as though he’d fall apart without touching you, you whisper, “What was that for?”

“I...” His eyes flit across your face. “An apology, I suppose.”

You sigh, pressing just the smallest bit closer. “It’s not okay, but I understand,” you say. “It’s not like I’ve been nice to you, either. Besides...” You lean forward, pressing a kiss along his jaw. “I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed the past few weeks.”

His lips curl up into a shy smile. “Yeah?”

You shrug, your heart beating erratically against your rib cage. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad.”

It’s with a pained look that he pulls away, his hand skimming down the length of your arm before settling back in his seat entirely, shifting into second and starting the drive once more.

Streetlights flit by quietly, barren cornfields give way to houses and subdivisions, and as he turns onto your street, his voice breaks the silence.

“I was wondering,” he begins softly. “Since it looks like the power’s still out over here — you could, if you want, come back to my place.”

You raise your eyebrows, amused.

“Not for anything, like, untoward,” he quickly clarifies, shooting you a glare when you laugh. (Seriously, who says ‘untoward’ still?) “But it’s cold, and I don’t know how the insulation is in your apartment, but worst case we have a generator at my place and my parents evacuated before lock down so it’ll just be us, and—”

“Steve,” you interject. He falls silent immediately. “You don’t need to beg. Sure, I’ll go. Besides, my apartment is freezing even with functioning electricity.”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “Well, if it’s so cold…”

“Then you’re really just doing me a favor,” you finish.

A grin threatens to split his face and he nods once, decisive, before shifting gears.

Your apartment building passes by without a glance backwards.

By the time he pulls into a long driveway of a big, unfamiliar house, you’re half asleep. Eyelids drooping, face pressed into the cool window, but the lights in the house are on which means there’s proper heating, and that’s enough to have you slipping from the car.

Steve meets you halfway up the path, his hand settling on your back as he unlocks the front door and guides you in. 

“The kitchen is that way,” he says, pointing down a hall past the foyer. “Feel free to eat any of the food.”

“Thanks,” you say. “But I’m not really hungry.”

He accepts this easily, and with a gentle press of his fingers, he nudges you towards the stairs.

His bedroom feels like a window into a version of Steve that you’ve heard of but never quite seen. An amalgamation of sentiments — pictures of his friends and parents and others you don’t recognize, trophies from his high school days, scribbled notes from Robin strewn across his desk — and the messiness of a boy who clearly doesn’t spend as much time at home as he should, clothes strewn across the floor.

Steve, however, is unphased by all of this. He kicks his dirty laundry into a pile as he makes his way over to the dresser, shuffling through it until he yanks out a big, worn shirt and hands it over, saying, “This should fit. The bathroom is right outside the door, extra toothbrushes are in the cabinet. Use whatever you want.”

You nod and venture from the room without another word. Your clothes fall to the floor and you leave them in a pile to be grabbed in the morning, slipping on the soft t-shirt that falls to mid thigh. A toothbrush is located and you grimace at the taste of Steve’s toothpaste, then amuse yourself by using a tad too much of his overly fancy face wash and moisturizer.

(You know for a fact that you certainly can’t afford this stuff. Might as well use it while you can.)

And when you make your way back to the bedroom — back to Steve — he’s already dressed in his own pajamas, under the blankets, and adjusting a laughably large wall of pillows in the dead center of his bed.

You lean against the doorframe, amused when you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t — you know, I wasn’t going to… I didn’t want to… assume,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh my god.” You shake your head, making your way over to the opposite side of the bed, sliding in under the thick comforter, and immediately getting to work on destroying the pillow wall. “You do know that you had your mouth on my pussy, like, less than two hours ago, right? I think we’ll survive sharing a bed.”

“I was trying to be polite!” he cries indignantly.

But you only shift closer, tucking yourself under his arm and throwing your leg over his knee. “Harrington,” you begin affectionately. “You haven’t been polite for as long as we’ve known each other. Don’t bother starting now.”

He lets out a sound close to amused and shyly, he leans down, planting a kiss on your temple.

You bury your face into his sleep shirt, hiding your smile.

Steve flicks the light off and settles deeper into bed, dragging you closer until his limbs are entirely entangled with yours.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs. 

summer was coming to an end sooner than you’d like. you just might even say it was the best summer of your life. there was endless movie nights, random adventures with the kids (who weren’t technically kids anymore, more like soon-to-be seniors in high school), self-care nights with max, and soft moments with him.

steve harrington. the boy you’d been in love with since you were a kid.

he practically lived at your house at all times due to how close him and your brother, jake, were. steve was at every family party, dinner, outing, all of it. he’d become such a normal part of your life that you couldn’t tell when you began to look at him differently. or maybe you’d always had this crush on him since the moment you met.

he was sweet and gentle and caring in a way that you didn’t know existed. your parents weren’t exactly the best image of love growing up. their fights got nasty and they often went long periods of time without talking. you knew from a very young age that that wasn’t what you wanted.

and with steve, he never allowed the smallest of disagreement to escalate into anything more. the moment he made a joke that hit you in a way it wasn’t supposed to, he was grabbing your hands and apologizing with that genuine glint in his eyes that made you melt. the second there was even the slightest tone to his voice, he was taking a beat to reset before apologizing.

you may call yourself delusional, but you could swear he’s only like that with you. the kids argue all the time. almost every other minute is spent arguing. whether that be over a movie, what snacks they want, who farted— it was always something. and yet steve would sit there and watch. sometimes he’d even join in with the teasing.

seeing the differences in how he treated you versus the rest of the world made it impossibly hard not to fall even more.

like the time when dustin had fallen off of his bike because his chain had snapped. steve hadn’t even bothered to help because he couldn’t stop laughing for a solid ten minutes, holding his stomach that was starting to actually ache. but the time you’d fallen off of your bike after attempting a trick a few years ago? he was calmly helping you up and into your house, sitting you down on the lid of the toilet as he cleaned up the blood and bandaged you up. he whispered sweet words the entire time so you wouldn’t panic at how bad the scrapes looked.

or the time when lucas ate mike’s leftovers that he’d been saving for this specific movie night. it was practically a war in the kitchen and all steve could say was shut up and watch the goddamn movie. but when jake ate your leftovers that you’d been excited to get home and eat? steve was back in his beamer to get you more.

it was the little things that made you fall down, down, down the rabbit hole of steve harrington.

the thing you always dreaded most was going back to school. sure, you loved it. like, really loved it. your roommates, allie and jackie, were the best people you could’ve ever imagined living with. they were fun and crazy and so full of life. they made forgetting about hawkins feel easy.

but the one thing you still could never forget was steve. even when you were at the bars, borderline plastered with men standing and sitting all around you, your mind was back to steve. none of them were as pretty as him or as sweet to you as he was. you sat and talked to one guy for hours and couldn’t help but compare the two the entire time.

then when you’d occasionally go home for the weekend or for break, you’d see him at your house like he always was and your mind would start wandering. it made you wonder what it’d be like to come home with him waiting for you. not jake, you.

it was a very dangerous game to play. and this summer, was teetering extremely close to the edge.

you were currently in your room, packing up all of your stuff again to go back to your dorm on campus in a few days, when you heard a knock. steve moved to stand in your doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. his hair was a little messy like he’d been messing with it recently and he was in worn sweats with a simple crewneck. and still, you thought he was so stunning. “need any help?”

you stood from your crouched position and placed your hands on your hips while analyzing your room. most of it was packed, now just the smaller more personal things. “uh, i think i’m just about done. thanks though,” you said with a smile. “keep me company while i finish?”

the corner of his lip twitched upwards as he nodded and moved to sit on your bed against the headboard, making himself comfortable like he always did. “of course. jake went out to get groceries. he said the fridge was looking sad.”

you let out a soft laugh and continued stuffing things into bins. “hm. i wonder why that is,” you teased. the two boys were like vacuums. if you didn’t hide your food in a secure location, it was one hundred percent going to be gone in the morning.

“wasn’t me this time,” steve said defensively, holding his hands up. he smiled to himself as he recalled the memory. “he practically inhaled everything last night when we got in.”

the lid to the storage bin clicked as you pushed it down into place. “yeah, sounds just like him. those everything sandwiches cannot be good.”

he huffed out a laugh and stared at his hands that were fumbling with the blanket. “yeah, they’re gross,” steve mumbled. you could see a wave of something unfamiliar wash over his face quickly before returning back to neutral. “you ready to head back to school?”

a long sigh left your lips as you stopped to look at him. it took a second to think of an answer. “i don’t know. i guess? i love it there but… i also just hate having to leave this place. as much as it sucks sometimes.”

his eyes held an intensity that should’ve terrified you. instead, it only had you more intrigued. “that’s good though, right? that you have something so meaningful here that it makes it hard to say goodbye.”

you snorted at that. “jeez, steve. when’d you get so poetic?” you moved to lay on your side beside him once your feet started aching, tucking a big lump of blanket under your head so you could look up at him easier.

he shrugged playfully and placed your legs over his lap, his warm hand resting on the bare skin of your calf. “guess i’ve picked up on a few things being a teacher and all.”

the subconscious movement of his hand running along the length of hour lower leg made it much harder to focus. you cleared your throat. “what about you? excited to get back to teaching?”

his posture relaxed slightly, like the topic of conversation made him go softer than he already was. “yeah, i am,” he replied with a smile he couldn’t fight off. his gaze was still fixed on his hands. “jus’ hope the team can have a better season this year. they deserve a big win.” steve finally looked to you, chuckling as the big grin across your face. “what?”

you shook your head. “nothing. i just like hearing about your job. the way you talk about them is really sweet.”

a soft blush coated his cheeks as his gaze broke away towards your calf again. a wave of sadness washed over his features. “i’m gonna miss you,” he said just barely above a whisper.

the corners of your lips pulled downwards into a frown. “you know, you can always come visit me like you and jake used to do freshman year,” you replied, analyzing the way he looked so focused on his hands rubbing your skin. “you haven’t even gotten to see my new place yet. the couch unfolds.”

the way you said it with such excitement should’ve made him smile or crack a joke about your enthusiasm for a couch. instead, his face fell. he mimics your frown. he wants to visit your again more than anything else. but sitting here, surrounded by boxes and bags full of your items, he can only envision your bright future ahead of you. one where you graduate and move far away to become someone great who can make real change. the realization hits him hard.

this was your senior year. its the time where you should be enjoying the last bit of college left. going to parties, experimenting, experiencing everything the world has to offer. and most importantly, meeting more people. not feeling like you’re trapped in the boring little hawkins that never did anything to deserve someone like you. “yeah. maybe we’ll have to do that,” he whispered, no real intention of following through with it.

not because he didn’t want to— no, of course he did. but college was your space and he quickly realized that after the first few times he visited. he didn’t want to scare off anyone who might become your entire future. was it a little silly? maybe. but to him, he thought it was the right thing to do.

your brows furrowed as you watched him. you sat up a little more, unintentionally scooting a little closer to him. his hand was now resting on the outside of your thigh with his thumb moving soothingly along your skin. “what’s wrong? you look upset,” you asked softly, searching his eyes for anything.

he finally lifted his gaze to look at you, void of anything but sadness. and still, he tries to force a smile onto his face. “nothing. i’m good,” he said quietly. his other hand that was still in the blankets was flexing out and bunching the fabric between his fingers repeatedly like he wanted to reach out and cup your face. “just sad to see you go so soon.”

you let out a soft laugh. “steve, we had all summer. i’d say this one was one for the books,” you joked playfully. the joke didn’t land. if anything, it made him even more sad.

“it was pretty fun, huh?” he muttered, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. never in your life had you seen steve look so heartbroken.

the only sound to break the tense silence was your box fan in the corner of your room. the air began to thicken with the weight of unspoken words and confessions that had been building for the last three months. and subconsciously, you lean in just half an inch. your close enough to feel the soft puffs of air from him.

his eyes were fixed on your lips. how pretty and soft they looked. how badly he wanted to kiss you right now. he could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest as his fingers on your thigh dug into the skin slightly. his palms were beginning to grow hot and clammy as he took in your scent.

your faced were only centimeters away. and you really thought it might actually happen. that he might finally kiss you like you’d been waiting years for.

then he pulled away like he’d been electrocuted.

his eyes became glassy as he looked at you, his lips parting like he was trying to find the words to describe the internal dilemma in his head. “i’m sorry,” he whispered so quietly you almost missed it. “i can’t.”

you visibly deflated, your heart breaking in your chest. “what?” you questioned quietly. he could hear the sadness in your voice as you stared at him with big pleading eyes. getting punched in the face was definitely much easier than this conversation. “what are you talking about?”

he gulped nervously and retracted his hands from your skin like the contact burned him. “i can’t do this,” he replied softly, looking completely defeated.

your hands trembled with the fabric of the blanket as your eyes began to sting. “is it because of jake?” you asked. part of you wished it was. that’d be much easier to find a solution to than anything else. “is it because he’s your best friend? we’re not kids anymore, steve. he doesn’t get to dictate who we like.” he watched a flash of realization wash over your face as your bottom lip wobbled. “or do you… do you just not like me?”

his hands moved quickly to cradle your cheeks when you moved your head to look down. his thumb gently swiped at a tear rolling down your rosy skin. “no! no, i think you’re perfect. trust me, that’s— that’s not it at all,” he said quickly, not even skipping a beat. “it’s not that, or your brother. i promise.”

your sniffled sadly and looked into his brown glassy eyes. “then what is it?” you whispered brokenly, voice cracking more than you would’ve liked.

he moved to hold your hands in his instead like he needed something to ground him too. “it’s about you,” steve stated. “i mean… this is your senior year of college, y’know? this is your final year of fun before you have to go out into the real world. you should be going out to parties and— and meeting new people and trying everything life has to offer you. you have this amazing future ahead of you and i’m just… the guy who coaches baseball in a hopeless place like hawkins.”

there was a moment of silence before he held you a little tighter. “if i kiss you or— or tell you how i feel, you’ll go back to campus carrying all of this. and as much as it hurts me to not be able to do those things, i don’t wanna hold you back from living your life. i don’t wanna be the reason why you skip out on going to a party or feel guilty for having some fun because you feel tied down to me.”

your face fell as you stared at him. there was not a hint of dishonesty in his voice or on him at all. he looked completely torn and wrecked and above all, guilty. “steve. you can’t actually think that,” you began with a gentleness he didn’t think he’d deserved right now. you returned the firm hold on his hands and pulled him a little closer. “look at me. do you really think you’re a burden?”

he didn’t answer. the slight shrug if his shoulders and the slow slide of a tear running down his cheek was enough of an answer for you. “i’ve already lived three great years of the college life. i’ve gone to the parties, i’ve met all the people there is to meet, i’ve done it all. and somehow, the entire time, all i could think about was you,” you admitted, putting your whole heart on the line now. “all i could do was wish i was sitting right here, talking to you. you’re not holding me back from anything, steve. and i really don’t want you to think that, because out of everyone else in the world, you’re still the one i wanna be with.”

you could feel and see steve tense up at the confession. there was no going back now. a summer of lingering touches and gazes, flirting so subtle that everyone else missed it, and late night conversations had led you both straight to this moment.

and steve was fucking terrified.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered so quietly you thought you’d imagined it. he sniffled brokenly and wiped at his eyes, pulling away from you. “i can’t do it.”

just like that, he was gone. he was shuffling off of your bed and slipping downstairs through the front door before jake could come in and ask what happened.

you’d cried the entire night. you barely even slept because of it. the embarrassment of laying all of your feelings out on the line and leaving the ball in his court, just for him to walk away like none of it meant anything to him. it killed you more than you liked to admit.

it’d been three days without seeing him and today was the day you’d be leaving.

jake was currently doing a once over of your car to ensure it would run smoothly all the way to university while robin gave you a big, bone crushing hug. “don’t forget about me while you’re gone,” she mumbled against your shoulder. “and pleaseee bring some of allie’s pie home for thanksgiving.”

you could help but laugh as you pulled away, wiping your tears as you did so. no matter how many times you’d done this previously, it still felt just as hard every time. especially when you were missing a certain someone.

the kids (teenagers actually) all ambushed you into a big group hug, each muttering their goodbyes all at the same time. when you finally got to your parents, you heard the loud engine of some expensive car. your eyes lit up as you looked to the end of the block.

it was just some new red sports car.

jake watched your shoulders drop as your hopes of seeing him one last time shattered. that was what hurt the most. the realization that whatever had been brewing between the tow of you was actually over.

your brother pulled you into a hug, an uncharacteristically sweet one, and muttered a very soft i’m sorry. you weren’t actually sure if he knew what he was apologizing for or if steve had told him what happened, but it was enough to make you cry a little harder.

steve’s leg bounced anxiously as glanced at some of the pictures he’d found in his drawer while searching for his wallet that you all had taken over the summer at nearby photo booths. one in particular had caught his eye. he leaned his elbows on his knees as he stared at it and frowned.

you two were sitting down side by side in the booth, his arms around your waist while yours were around his neck. you were smiling big while his lips were pressed to your cheek. it was meant to be a silly photo, but with the timer counting down unnaturally fast, the two of you picked a random pose. it was actually embarrassing how much he looked at this photo.

something inside of him clicked instantly. he jogged down the steps, almost missing a few, and ran out to his key, quickly shifting it into drive before speeding off towards your house. he didn’t care about the speed limit or the fact that he didn’t have his seatbelt on. he just cared about making it in time to see you. and as he rounded the corner of your street, his heard sank.

your car was gone.

and still, he pulled up to the curb and got out in record breaking time. his hair was a mess, his clothes were completely wrinkled, and his eyes were bloodshot. yet part of him was still optimistic. he needed to see you. he needed to say a real goodbye. but when the front door opened to reveal jake with the slightest frown on his lips, steve knew he was too late.

your brother stepped out onto the front porch as he approached, a cup of coffee in his hand. he looked at his best friend’s disheveled state with the quiet panic behind his eyes, and sighed.

he didn’t yell at steve or ask where he was. he just gave him a comforting pat on his back and a sad smile across his lips. “she just left, man,” jake said softly, voice full of sympathy. he turned to head back inside, leaving the door open for him to follow.

steve stood there, with his heart in his stomach, staring at the road you’d just driven down minutes ago.

🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧

almost a year later, and you were finally done. all that was left for you now was graduation in a week.

this particular school year had felt like it dragged on much longer. perhaps it was the fact that you didn’t go home at all like you typically did. or maybe it was because for half of the first semester, you couldn’t stop thinking about the dreadful interaction that happened between you and steve just before you left.

allie and jackie were good at making you forget about all the bad things in your life. you spent countless nights laughing with them while sharing a bottle of wine, staying out until the early hours of the morning at the bars, doing anything and everything possible. it felt better than you’d ever admit.

but now you were in your car, trunk and backseat (and your passenger seat too actually) completely filled with bags and boxes. they were stacked so high you could barely see out of your back window. the drive home was familiar in a way that made your stomach churn with excitement. you had really missed your brother and your friends.

even though you’d be on the road for a while, you didn’t even bother stopping for food or to rest. the adrenaline of getting home was enough to keep you full and ready to go for the entirety of the ride.

a big, wide smile spread across your lips as you pulled into your driveway. you were practically out of the car before you could even fully put it into park and shut it off. you headed up onto the porch and opened up the front door, only to hear the deafening silence of the house.

your brows furrowed as you called out to your parents and jake but got no response. there was a small white note on the dining table that caught your attention. it read ‘see you soon to celebrate. love, jake’.

if anything, you were even more confused now. then there was a loud knock at your door. you cautiously walked toward it and looked through the peep hole to see two familiar faces.

as soon as the door swung open, robin was squealing excitedly and practically tackling you into a hug. vickie was standing beside the two of you, laughing loudly at the interaction.

“oh my god, dude. it feels like it’s actually been forever,” robin muttered into your shoulder before finally pulling away to allow her girlfriend to hug you too. “i hope you know how devastated i was to know you weren’t coming home with pie.”

vickie snorted as she pulled away from you. “she cried when you two got off the phone. like real tears.”

robin glared at her, though there was no real malice in it. “you weren’t supposed to tell her about that,” she whispered incredibly loud without even realizing it. she then turned her attention back to you and ushered you inside the house, following behind you. “ok, hurry up and go change. we’re going on a little walk.”

your face scrunched up in confusion. you were already in comfortable clothes. “what do you mean? why can’t i just go like this?”

she smacked her lips and gestured to her and vickie’s outfits. they both had on much nice outfits than you did. “no, dingus. not that kind of walk,” she teased with a chuckle. “just trust me. put on something cute so we can get going.”

the realization quickly became apparent. “is this about jake’s note?” you asked, a knowing smirk on your face. “how did you guys even know when i’d be getting home?”

robin shrugged. her expression was telling a completely different story. “women’s intuition.”

“we stood at the end of the block for half an hour waiting,” vickie corrected, doing her best to hold back a laugh.

you snorted at that. “you guys are ridiculous,” you remarked playfully as you turned to head up the stairs and into your bedroom. most of your clothes were still packed up in your car. fortunately enough for you, you found a nice pair of jeans and a flattering shirt that could be considered dressy for whatever occasion.

the second you reached the bottom step, the girls were grabbing each of your arms and basically dragging you outside and down you street.

and before you knew it, you were at the bar.

nerves flooded your stomach as they pulled you inside. you’d never been here before but it was safe to say that the place was packed. not to the point weee you couldn’t move, but definitely to a point where you were squeezing through to get past.

“there’s my favorite grad!” you heard from in front of you as your brother— evidently already tispy —shimmied through the crowd to pull you into a suffocatingly tight hug. “congrats, kid. proud of you.”

you pulled away from him and placed your hands on his shoulder to steady him. “thanks, jake,” you smiled. “how much have you had to drink already?”

he gave you that smirk that meant he was up to no good. “not nearly enough,” he replied with a playful wink. one of his friends from work, damien, approached from behind him with four shots in his hands. he quickly passes two to jake, kept one for himself, and handed to last to robin. “to the grad!”

the group cheers’d to you and downed the shot, your brother shaking his head at the disgusting burn. you could hear robin coughing behind you while vickie chuckled and handed her some water. you weren’t entirely sure what alcohol they’d given you, but it was probably in the top ten worst drinks you’d ever had.

as you made your way to the table behind jake, you ran into multiple of his friends. they each congratulated you with a hug and offered to buy another round, which you’d politely decline each time since you were trying to hold off on getting too hammered.

once you finally got to the table by the wall where your party was seated, you froze. your heart had dropped to the depths of your stomach and almost stopped beating right then and there. because there he was.

steve harrington.

sitting at the table that was meant to be celebrating you tonight.

almost as if he could sense the pair of eyes on him, he turned his head and his gaze caught yours. a slow smile spread across his lips as he stood from his seat to greet you. he set the beer he was nursing onto the table and took long strides over to you. “hey,” he beamed. he had this calm, warm confidence that radiated from him as he approached and pulled you into a gentle hug. “congratulations.”

you wrapped your arms around his torso and let out the shaky breath you’d been holding in. “thank you,” you mumbled against his chest.

the two of you stayed like that for a few seconds longer than you should’ve, his chest against the top of your head like you guys molded perfectly together. when he finally reluctantly pulled away, you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed down your frame. “want a drink?”

you shook your head with a tight-lipped smile. “no, i’m okay for now. thank you though,” you replied gratefully. but he was already grabbing ahold of your hand. “steve, seriously—“

he flashed you a toothy grin and began taking a few steps backwards. “oh, come on. we’re supposed to be celebrating,” he teased playfully. “one drink. that’s all i ask.”

you didn’t have time to protest. he was using the hold on your hand to pull you along with him as he used his own body to clear a path for you, effectively preventing anyone from bumping into you or spilling their drinks on you.

he pulled out of of the high chairs for you and waited for you to be seated before taking a seat in the one beside you. “anything you like in particular?” he asked, one elbow propped up on the table with his chin resting in his palm. his other hand was flat on his thigh.

the attention made your cheeks flush a soft red. “i usually just go for shots whenever i go out with my roommates,” you said honestly, slightly embarrassed that you didn’t have a big palate like the others did. “i’m not the biggest fan of the taste so i’d rather just get it down quick.”

he didn’t judge. of course he didn’t. steve would never. he nodded along as narrowed his eyes at you slightly as he thought. “okay. how ‘bout something sweet then?” he suggested, the hand on your thigh moving to trace shapes over your knee as he stared at it.

your gaze followed his to watch his pointer finger press small circles into your jeans. “what if i hate it?” you asked.

he let out a huff akin to a laugh and lazily grinned. something about the way he looked was doing things to you. “you won’t. just trust me. it’s good,” he said confidently. “and if you do hate it, i’ll get you something else.”

you mimicked him and propped your elbow up with your chin in your palm. “i’ll pay you back.”

his eyes found yours again, brows furrowed slightly as his head tilted the slightest bit. he almost looked offended. “what are you talking about?” he replied, his voice light hearted and playful. “when have i ever asked you to ‘pay me back’?”

you shrugged. “that just means i have a big debt to pay back.” you couldn’t help but begin to feel small under his intense gaze. “which i intend to start paying back.”

steve waved it off like that was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever said. “don’t worry about it. i wouldn’t have done any of those things if i didn’t want to.”

the bartended finally made his way over to the two of you, his eyes mainly focused on you. “what can i get for a beautiful woman like you tonight?” he asked, winking as he leaned on the counter with his palms flat on the surface below the bar.

you pursed your lips into a thin line and looked to steve, unsure of what he had planned.

he noticed the slight tense in your posture instantly. he placed the hand on your thigh over the back of your chair instead, pulling your chair the slightest bit closer with his knee slotting between yours. his eyes never left yours. “can i get a beer,” he began, searching your face one last time like he was really contemplating what you’d like. “and one tequila sunrise please?”

the man nodded like he’d taken the hint and went to prepare the drinks. you glanced at him, then back to the boy in front of you. “tequila sunrise?” you questioned curiously.

the corner of his lip quirked up as he gave you a curt nod. “you’ll like it,” he assured. “thought about a sex on the beach but you don’t like peaches.”

your heart swelled at the fact that he’d remembered something so small. within a few short seconds, your drinks were placed in front of you two. the gorgeous gradient was enough to make you love it already. “thank you,” you replied gratefully when he slowly slid it over to you, careful not to spill. you gave it a small swirl and took a sip. “wow. oh my god. it’s really good.”

steve had this proud smile on his face as he took a swig of his beer. “what can i say,” he replied with a playful cockiness as he shrugged.

you lightly shoved at his shoulder and took another sip. your eyes widened as you remembered something. “robin told you me you got your own place,” you said, genuinely excited for him.

he nodded and took another sip. “mhm. just bought an apartment a few blocks down from here,” he stated, doing his best to stay humble. you could see just how proud of himself he was. “just somewhere temporary for now. jake and i found a couples places a few towns over. thought it’d be fun to get out of here and settle down somewhere nicer.”

you smiled. that sounded nice. “oh boy. that neighborhood is really gonna hate to see the two of you coming,” you teased softly, earning a laugh from him.

“yeah, they definitely will,” he smiled to himself. “the houses are nice. a lot cheaper too. and they’re next door to one another.”

you nodded along and glanced down at your knee that was brushing up against his. “that sounds like the dream.”

he hummed in agreement. “you’ll have to come visit. see the place for yourself and tell me what you think.”

you could feel your face grow hot almost immediately. “i’d love to,” you said, voice shaking a little to much to sound sure. the alcohol was definitely starting to hit you a little bit by now. if it weren’t for the help of it, you surely wouldn’t have asked the next question that left your mouth. “so, my roommate allie has some extra graduation tickets. she didn’t want them going to waste, soo she gave them to me. and i was wondering, if maybe you wanted to go?”

there was a pause of silence as you sipped your drink and he stared at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “you obviously don’t have to or anything. i just— i don’t know. i figured i’d ask,” you nervously rambles. “robin and jake are carpooling and you know how much they can argue over stupid things. not that that’s the only reason i want you to go but—“

“i’ll be there,” he said gently to stop you from freaking yourself out. he was looking at you with a softness you’d never seen before.

you took a deep breath. “really?”

he nodded and smiled. “of course i will. wouldn’t wanna miss it for the world,” steve replied. “i’m a little offended that you asked me last but i’ll—“

you lightly slapped his arm that was around the back of your chair and glared at him, though there was no real bite behind it. it made him chuckle. “you know that’s not how i meant it. you’ve always had an invite. you’re just the hardest to contact.”

“i know,” he whispered softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i really missed you.”

your heart did a little flip in your chest as you looked down at your drink that was just about empty. “i really missed you too, steve.”

he wanted to say sorry for how things left off between the two of you. he really did. but that would only open up old wounds that he was sure would ruin your night. and you didn’t deserve that. so the second you looked down, he got you a refill and swapped your glass for the full one. “c’mon. let’s get back to the table before jake kills me for stealing you for too long. think i just nance and jonathan come in too,” he stated as he stood up, offering you a hand as you hopped off of the high chair.

you took the outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you through the crowd back to the table where your brother and his friends were dishing out more shots. “just in time,” jake hollered excitedly. he’d always had this dream of getting fucked up with you once you were of age.

everyone held their glasses up in a cheers before throwing back the shot and setting the empty cups down onto the tray. steve took yours from you and placed it down with the rest while nancy came over to greet you excitedly.

as the two of you briefly caught up, steve was pulling out the chair with his jacket on it for you to take a seat whenever you were ready. nancy took a seat beside you with jonathan on her side, and robin and vickie across from you. steve was standing next to you between your chair and the wall, his beer in one hand and the other on the back of your chair to keep people from bumping into you as he argued with robin over something silly.

the rest of the night went by in a blur. you had shots practically getting shoved down your throat every few minutes, steve watching over you with a quiet protectiveness, robin and nancy pulling you around the bar to dance, and jake demanding you drink even more.

it was around two am now and majority of the group was beyond drunk. fortunately for you all, steve and damien lived in the same apartment complex nearby. the worst part was that it was still a twenty minute walk.

jake had effectively gotten you absolutely plastered. not to the point where you couldn’t stand or enough to make you puke everywhere, but enough to make steve worry about how you were gonna make it. you were practically beginning to fall asleep leaning against him in your chair.

so he had scooped you up carefully, your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, while his hands held underneath your thighs as respectfully as he could. he was great at handling his alcohol. so it was no surprise that he was fully functioning better than anyone else was.

jonathan was carefully monitoring nancy as she walked, not quite beside her but also not behind her. just close enough to catch her if she fell at any given moment.

vickie was going through it beside steve. she was fully supporting robin’s weight against her with the help of jake, who was not sober enough to be helping. he was spluttering nonsense and cracking jokes the entire walk home that had the rest of their friends laughing obnoxiously loud.

once you all finally made it, half of the group split to damien’s apartment, while your brother, robin, nancy, vickie, and jonathan stayed with the two of you.

steve mumbled something to jake about the key in his back pocket, which he quickly reached for and unlocked the door. he pushed it open so steve could enter first and make his way towards his bedroom while the others prepared the pullout couch and the floor.

he could feel the slow thump of your heartbeat against his chest as he kicked the door shut and gently sat you down at the edge of his bed. you flopped back immediately, dramatically sighing. it made him chuckle. “you okay?”

you nodded lazily, even though he couldn’t see it, before humming. “mhm. jus’ tired.”

he sank down to his knees and carefully untied your shoes then gently slid them off of your feet. he placed them neatly by his door and moved to his closet. “i know. ‘m gonna find you some clothes ‘nd then we can get ready for bed, ‘kay?”

the only answer you could offer was a barely there hum of acknowledgment as you rolled onto your side to get comfortable. he quickly gathered up some sweatpants and a hoodie he didn’t wear very often and made his way back over to you. “c’mon. how ‘bout you get changed really quick?”

you groaned in protest but took his hand as he helped you up and led you to the bathroom connected to his room. he gestured for you to enter while holding out the clothes. “jus’ lemme know when you’re done,” he said, shutting the door behind you.

with a little but of stumbling around and a few close-calls to falling, you were finally changed. his clothing was extremely comfortable and oversized. you opened up the door. “all done.”

his eyes scanned over your figure, in his clothes, in his apartment. he thought he might actually be dreaming. he stepped inside and moved around you, his hands gentle on your waist as he did so to get to the other side and pull out a spare pink toothbrush. your brows furrowed as you looked at it. “why do you jus’ have this laying around?” you slurred tiredly.

he chuckled to himself and wet down yours and his before squeezing out a big bead of toothpaste on each. “this is the usual crash spot since i live so close to the bars. gotta keep a few extra just incase. and one so happened to be pink.”

you let out a sleepy sigh and began brushing your teeth, staring at yourself in the mirror. you couldn’t help but look over at him every now and then. something about this felt so domestic. the way he was taking care of you. the way you had on his clothes. the way you were literally doing your nighttime routine with him. this was basically all you’d ever wanted.

once the two of you were all finished up, he grabbed out his face wash and a headband, gently sliding it over your forehead to pull your hair back. your brows furrowed slightly at how prepared he was, until he did the same for himself to keep his hair out of the way too. makes sense.

he turned the sunk back on and pumped some of the liquid into your hand before extending on of his own to do the same. “wait, stevje,” you interrupted. “can you watch my back please?”

now it was his turn to look confused as he stared at you through the mirror. “what?”

“can you jus’ like— can you watch my back for me? whenever i wash my face, i get scared that someone’s gonna, like, kill me or something while my eyes are closed,” you explained, a bright blush coating your cheeks from the alcohol and the embarrassment. “‘cause then i can’t defend myself.”

he swallowed down the laugh bubbling in his throat to not embarrass you even further. “yeah. of course. i’ll watch your back,” he said with a warm smile. and he did. he let you wash your face completely and pat it down dry before even thinking about washing his own. and once the two of you were all done, you moved back to his room. “you take the bed. i’ll sleep on the floor.”

you stared at him like he was crazy. “steve, what? no. it’s your place, you can—“

he was already placing a spare blanket on the ground with some extra pillows. “no, seriously. it’s okay. i’ll take the floor.”

this wasn’t a fight you were giving up. “that’s not fair. i will—“

he cut you off with a small smile. “hey, it’s okay. i don’t mind. i wouldn’t have offered it if i did,” he replied softly. “you had a long night. you should really take the bed.”

you huffed out a breath if defeat when he sat down on the ground. “why don’t you jus’ sleep up here with me?” your heart was hammering in your chest. never would you have said something like this if you were sober. “it doesn’t have to be weird.”

there was a beat of silence as he thought. he nodded slowly even though you couldn’t see him. “yeah, okay,” he said hesitantly. “sure.”

he crawled up onto the bed on the opposite side of you, making himself comfortable under the covers.

it took all of ten minutes before you both were knocked out, and wrapped up in one another.

The moment his eyes locked onto yours, the exhaustion of your twelve-hour flight dissolved. He came charging at you, discarding all sense of public decorum as he weaved through the crowd.   

Before you could even drop your carry-on bag to the floor, Beau practically tackled you. all the air left your lungs as his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you so tight your bones ached.

“Hello, to you too,” you laughed, breathless.

“God, sweetheart,” he groaned, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin.

He lifted you right off your feet, crushing you against his chest as if he wanted to physically absorb you. you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your face into him too. Before leaving, he had given you a bottle of his cologne to spray your pillow with at night, but the scent had never smelt quite right unless it was mixed with his natural husk.

He held you there for a long time, completely ignoring the annoyed glares of the passengers who had to navigate around you both. When he finally slid you down his body, his hands immediately cupped your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you’d barely realised had fallen.

“How the fuck did you get even more beautiful?” He sighed. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, as if committing your features to memory all over again. “I missed you so damn much.”

He didn’t wait for a reply; he leant down to brush his lips against yours as he placed a tender kiss to your lips. It wasn’t the fiercely desperate kiss that you expected, but you welcomed it all the same.  

He pulled back just an inch, looking into your eyes, his chest heaving. “I’m going to ravish you when we get back,” he promised.

That, you had expected.  

The drive back to his dorm was a blur. Beau refused to let go of your hand, steering with one hand while keeping your fingers tightly locked in his other. Occasionally, he would lift your knuckles to his lips to press wet kisses against your skin.

The door to his dorm had barely closed behind you before his hands were on you, spinning you around and pressing your back against it. “You’re actually here?” He murmured, warm breath fanning your face. “I’m not dreaming? You’re home?”

“I’m home,” you replied, voice catching as you reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.

He kissed you like he might never get a chance again, as if you were running off abroad again. He was desperate, all-consuming, as his hands roamed over you, sliding up under the hem of your sweater. His palms were hot and slightly trembling against your stomach.

“Beau,” you gasped against his lips, his kisses made your knees weak. “Missed you. So much.”

“You have no idea,” he growled. He moves to press kisses along your jawline, making you arch into him. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your pelvis flush against the bulge of his jeans. “I haven’t touched myself in weeks just thinking about this day. I’m going to fill you up with my cum.”

You barely had time to react before he was sinking to his knees in front of you. he made quick work of your pants, pulling them and your underwear down.

“Beau,” you whined, suddenly very self-conscious even as you helped him to take off your pants. “I haven’t showered in like–.”

“Don’t care,” he interrupted.

“What about your dorm mate?” You countered, even as you swung your leg over his shoulder, spreading yourself for him.

“Not here.” He leant forward, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you. “Thank you for this meal.”

Beau wet his lips, one hand digging into your waist as he took your clit into his mouth.

“Ah~ Fuck!” You cried, to think you had all but forgotten what Beau’s mouth felt like. Your memory was nothing compared to the real thing.  

He hadn’t forgotten how you liked to be eaten though. He used his other hand to spread your folds to get better access to your clit.

Your thighs quivered around his head as he focused his attention there. His lips sucked on your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at you.

“You taste so good,” he murmured around your pussy. “Can’t wait until you’re dripping with my cum.”

“Mhm~ need you to fill me up, babe.”

“You’re so greedy for it,” he teased, the irony of him saying that as he desperately lapped at your wet heat wasn’t lost on you, but that didn’t mean you didn’t agree.

“Just for you.”

You grabbed at whatever of him you could get to, your blunt nails digging into his shoulder. His tongue swirled over your swollen clit, flicking it back and forth in a dizzying rhythm.  

He was taking such good care of you, but you knew what he needed. What he’d waited months for. Truthfully, what you both had waited months for.

“Babe, stop.”

At your words, he immediately pulled back, eyebrow raised and his chin wet with spit and your arousal.

“I need to feel you in me.”

He was immediately on his feet, effortlessly scooping you up and carrying you the short distance to his bedroom. He set you down on the mattress before he was undoing the button on his jeans.

His dick sprung up, hot and heavy, and you could see the vein on the underside of his dick throb. It twitched as you stared at it, and it took all of Beau’s restraint to walk over to you calmly and settle between your legs.

Positioned between them, Beau paused, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. The whites of his eyes were completely blown out with desire; he looked drunk on you.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last,” he warned. “I’m so close just looking at you.”

You impatiently reached down and guided him to your entrance. “Come on, please~,” you whined.

He grabbed his dick, guiding the head to swirl around your arousal a few times before bringing it back to your clenching hole. You both gasped as he pushed into you. you wrapped around him like a vice, the warmth of you shorting out his brain. He dropped forward so you were chest to chest.

“I’m home,” he murmured into your ear. “Buried in you is where I’m supposed to be. And I’m gonna fill you up and keep that buried in you too.”

Your bodies were so sensitive from the time adapt, and Beau’s ragged voice told you just how close to the edge he really already was.  

“I’m never going to let you go,” you said, clenching around him tighter as if to prove your point.

“Look at that,” he whimpered, lifting himself slightly so he could see where he was disappearing into you. he pressed a rough kiss to your lips, his dick giving a sudden twitch inside you that made you gasp. “Look at how perfectly you take me in. God, I’m going to put a fucking baby in you.”

To be fair to Beau, he lasted much longer than you expected him to, but he was only a few thrusts in and his hips were already thrusting at an inconsistent pattern.

“You’re so tight,” he panted, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot. “I want to put a baby in you so bad. I’m gonna get you pregnant, belly swelling cause I kept you full. Ah– Oh– fuck.”

He buried his face into your shoulder, hips faltering as he came. It was thick and heavy, filling you up just as he said he would.

“Fuck– FUCK! I told you,” he gasped, voice cracking as he continued to grind his hips into you.

You held him close, stroking his back and smiling softly as he kissed your neck. “I’ve got you,” you cooed.

All it took was one press of his thumb to your clit for you to cum on him. Hearing your undone cries almost had Beau hardening up again, not that he could but his dick surely wanted to try.

All the while, his release continue to pour into you, cock twitching for what felt like a full minute longer than usual. He shuddered violently as your walls kept closing down around him, his body twitching with the aftershocks of a pleasure so intense it bordered on painful.

Even when he stopped twitching and shooting cum into you, he didn’t pull out. His hands slid under your ass, lifting you up slightly to keep the cum from running out of you. you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer to you.

“Never leave me again,” he mumbled into your skin. “Have to keep you full of me.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. he was incredibly heavy, and you could feel his release pooling beneath your hips. But, after months of only seeing him through a screen, you would take being crushed by him over distance again any day.