fangirl#8493626

When you re-emerged from your room, in your comfiest clothes stolen from Steve, you found him on the couch. The popcorn was piled impressively high in a bowl, and there was an open bottle of beer sitting next to it, however it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Steve looked frustrated as he banged the remote against the palm of his hand, trying to get it to work as he muttered a soft, “God dammit.”

Not wanting to startle him, you murmured a soft “hey” and then dropped onto the couch next to him. “Want me to try?” you asked, holding your hand out for the remote. 

He placed it in your hand after a moment and then slumped back into the couch, arms crossing over his chest. He was still abnormally quiet, and it made your heart ache, but you didn’t want to pry and force him to talk if he didn’t want to. 

When you couldn’t get the remote to work either, you went off in search of some new batteries, and after rummaging through some drawers to find the right size, you returned to the living room, the remote and new batteries in hand. “Hey, I think I found the right size, but—“ you stopped mid-sentence as you turned the corner to find Steve in a new position. He was leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, and the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. “Steve?”

Steve’s head shot up, sniffling once as he shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. His hand pushed through his hair to get it out of the way, as he attempted to plaster a smile onto his face. When he spoke, his voice was rough like he was shoving any emotion back down, “Did you find some?”

You ignored Steve’s question as you set the objects you were holding onto the table, and then settled onto the couch next to him carefully. Your hand slid across his back, hand curving around his shoulder to pull him into you, voice delicate, “C’mere, baby.”

It was enough for Steve to finally crack. He let out a ragged breath, shoulders shuddering as he slumped into your embrace. Your hand quickly came up to cup the back of his head gently, twisting your torso so Steve could press his face into the crook of your neck. He let out a strangled gasping noise that broke your heart into pieces, and you could feel a few tears soak into your skin. 

Smoothing a hand over Steve’s hair, you used your other hand to rub gentle circles over his back. You stayed quiet, aside from an occasional “I’ve got you,” wanting to let him get it all out. You’d only seen him cry a few times, and while you appreciated that you were the one of the only people he let himself be vulnerable like this with, it broke your heart. Especially when it was something like family issues. Something he shouldn’t have to deal with. 

After a few moments, Steve let out another uneven breath, his breath hot and wet against your neck as his hands twisted into the fabric of your shirt at the sides. The tears had seemingly stopped for the moment, an angry huff escaping his lips. Your hand continued rubbing along the length of his spine, up and down, again and again, and you sat quietly with him, knowing he’d talk when he was ready. He sighed again, releasing his grip on your shirt, bringing his hand up to wipe a thumb over your wet skin, “‘M sorry, I—“

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you quickly cut him off, shaking your head vehemently. You kept your hand placed on the back of his head, fingers sifting through the soft strands slowly. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you murmured, “It’s okay.”

“I just…” he lifted his head from where he’d pressed into your neck, eyes squeezing shut, jaw clenched tightly as he shook his head with a pained laugh, “I hate how they make me feel. Every single time. Like I’m not good enough, and I never will be.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you couldn’t help the frown that tugged at the corners of your lips. You hated knowing that he ever thought of himself in that way, even just for a second, because of his parents of all people. His name slipped out of your mouth, pain marring the tone of your voice, “Steve. Baby, you know that’s not true, right?”

It took a second, but Steve gave you a short nod, though he kept his gaze low, not wanting to make eye contact with you. His teeth were practically tearing his bottom lip up, “Mhm.”

His answer wasn’t convincing enough, far from convincing, really, and you shifted so that you could take his face into your hands. Cupping his jaw lightly, you pulled his chin up, being as gentle as possible, so you could look him in the eye, “Hey. Look at me, baby.” After a moment, you cracked a small smile as you added, “Feels weird to be the one saying that.”

This caused Steve to smile, the tiniest bit of a genuine smile, as his eyes met yours finally. He let out a soft snort, shaking his head as a light blush crept up his neck, “Shut up.”

You grinned, feeling pleased with yourself for at least making him smile, if only for a moment. Your thumb brushed out over his cheek gently as you refocused the conversation, “Seriously, though. I need you to know that what your parents think… it doesn’t mean shit. They don’t know anything about you, baby.”

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile dropped from Steve’s face, shoulders sagging. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as his eyes met yours, “I’ve never been good enough for them. ‘M always a disappointment.”

“Oh, baby,” you murmured softly, eyebrows creasing together as you pushed your fingers into Steve’s hair and out of his face. “Just because your life doesn’t look like what they planned for you doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Joke’s on them for trying to plan anything in the fucked up world we live in. And, quite frankly, if they really care that much, they should’ve been around more to show it.”

Steve’s long lashes kissed his cheeks as his eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the touch of your hands on his face with an almost imperceptible nod. He was really considering what you were saying, and you hoped it was sinking in, if only a little. When he opened his eyes again, a new anger was lit in them, “And the shit he said about you a-and us—“

At one point, his dad had implied that yet another one of the reasons Steve was a disappointment was because he couldn’t fully support you. To his dad, it was embarrassing that you lived in a tiny, somewhat rundown, apartment, and even more embarrassing that you paid for half of it. If only Steve would come work for him, well, then everything would be better. You could get a nicer place, and you wouldn’t have to work. 

You’d been unable to stop yourself from audibly scoffing then, and you did the same now, “I hope you know I don’t care about that shit. Anywhere with you is home. And all of that was incredibly sexist, honestly. As if I need you to take care of me, like I couldn’t survive on my own.” 

“I know,” Steve cracked another smile at that; he’d thought he was going to have to hold you back at dinner. You’d looked like you were honest to god about to jump over the table, and as much as he would’ve liked to see that, it wasn’t the time or place. His eyes met yours again before he tilted his head forward, pushing his forehead into yours lightly, “Thank you.”

“What for?” Your nose nudged into his as you placed a soft peck to the corner of his mouth.

Steve lifted his shoulders into a shrug, “Just… for being here. And supporting me. Helping me see that my maybe my parents are wrong.”

“No,” you shook your head quickly, wanting to set the record straight, “they are wrong. They just are. You’re amazing, Steve. And if they can’t see that, that’s on them.” One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up as he hummed quietly in response before he returned a soft kiss to your cheek. 

With a hand still tangled in the hair at the back of his head, you shifted your position until your back was against the arm of the couch, and you slid down a bit to be laying a bit more. Your free arm slung around his shoulders, pulling Steve’s top half down until he was laying on top of you, cheek pressed to your sternum. He seemed to be feeling at least a little better and figured he wouldn’t argue with some cuddles for the rest of the night. 

When he didn’t complain, you bent your knees slightly to hug Steve’s torso, fingers stroking through his hair repeatedly in the way you knew he liked. His eyes were closed again, but he looked more at peace this time. “You, Steve Harrington, are more than enough. You’re kind and funny and caring and smart and brave. You do more than enough for the people you love, and you do it without a second thought. Don’t ever think for a second that you’re not enough.”

Steve had thought he’d been done crying, but couldn’t help the tears welling up in his eyes again. Sniffling a little, he cleared his throat and swiped a hand underneath his eyes, “Stop making me cry, you jerk.” He wedged his arm underneath you, between your back and the couch cushions, as he tried to get more comfortable, pressing his face into the soft fabric of your shirt. 

You giggled and shook your head adamantly as you twisted a strand of his hair around your index finger, “No, I’m serious! I mean all of it. And you deserve to hear it.”

“I love you,” Steve replied, feeling like it was enough to sum up everything he was feeling, pressing his chin into your sternum to look up at you. 

“I love you, too.” You reached out, hand sweeping his hair off of his forehead for what felt like the millionth time to see him more clearly, “Whatever you do, Steve, you’ll be great. And I’ll always support you. Everything will be okay.”

The hand that wasn’t pinned underneath you moved to press into the couch next to your head as Steve shuffled a bit so his face was level with yours again. His hand pressed into your back, underneath your shirt to pull your body into his, head dipping down to press his lips to yours in a short but sweet kiss. He dropped his forehead back onto your temple, nose pressing into your cheek. 

Your arms crossed over the back of his neck as you angled your own neck back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Baby, I…” a kiss to his nose, “love you…” a kiss to his jaw, “so much. You’ll be okay. And I’ve got you.”

When Steve’s eyes met yours this time, he was giving you a familiar smile as some of the darkness had begun to melt away. He didn’t know what to say, feeling like his heart could burst in his chest from the fondness, and settled for laying back against you, face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

-

steve friends ily

Could you blame him though? She’s gorgeous. Which is why you would also do anything for him, because him and her work, right?

“I think I’m a bit drunk.” You’re not. You know that and you think maybe even he knows that. But, maybe he’ll allow you the pleasure of going home and you can be a fake couple another day. Because, it is really becoming exhausting. Putting all your feelings aside for a boy so he can pine over someone who isn’t you.

“Really?” He stops scanning the room to look down at you, arm firm around your shoulders when he squeezes you in closer.

“Mhm.” You nod, giving him your best pleading eyes. Take me home. Maybe even come inside? We can pretend there too. Maybe you’ll finally understand why I’m doing this for you, if I ever work up the courage to kiss you in a setting without the eyes of your ex girlfriend on us. You think Steve can understand the meaning behind your look if you bat your eyelashes at him enough and grip his hips too hard?

“I think you’re lying to me, Y/N.” He looks at you and you swear it’s different to any other look he’s given you within the two week fake relationship.

“I think I’m hungry.”

“You drunk or hungry?” He smiles, eyes bright and teasing. You almost melt.

“You can be both.” You try to pull away from him but he grips you harder. You almost topple into him, but you ground yourself with a firm hand against his chest.

“True.”

“Well, when we’re done here being an unconvincing couple. I’d like for you to take me to get food.” You smile, and pinch his side so he can let go of you. He does, but you think it’s almost hesitant when his hands linger for a little too long on your hips. Almost even too long for a real couple to be holding onto each other.

“We’re convincing.” He frowns, straightening himself up against the warming kitchen bench. Sticky with spilt tequila and beer. You wince when you see an orange stain on the hem of his shirt and you take it into your hands, unthinkingly.

“Maybe to Henderson.” You laugh, distracted by the sliver of skin you’ve accidentally revealed in your inspection.

“You don’t think I’m a good actor?” He laughs and watches your gaze along his hip bone. He smirks. Genuinely, smirks.

Acting you remember. All of this is just an act. To him, anyhow.

“Not as good as me.”

Steve Harrington has to act like he’s in love with you, and you have to act like you’re not in love with him. You don’t think it’s all that fair.

“Sure, babe.” There it is again. Babe. He says it, but it sounds different to last. More meaning. You think maybe you’re going insane.

“So, food, huh?” You ask again, more sheepish then before. You don’t want to push your luck.

“What do you feel like?” He asks, the smug grin on his face finally disappearing.

You pretend to think for a moment like you and him don’t have a stupid habit of sharing milkshakes and fries, “Burgers?” You grin.

He looks offended, “Burgers?”

You nod. Steve pulls you in again and you fight the urge not to roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’m hungry and tired. And you owe me.”

“We’re not getting burgers. We’re getting another stupidly large milkshake and we’re going to drink it until we’re sick.” Steve smiles, all glowy under the buzzing yellow kitchen light, and suddenly you think he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. This was just getting harder.

“You’ve got it all planned out, huh?” You giggle and then hiccup when he pokes you between your ribs. You glare at him, but he seems too distracted to notice.

“As long as I get to eat the cherry this time.”

When he doesn’t argue like you were expecting him to, you frown and poke his chest. “Steve?”

“Kiss me.”

You stare at him for a moment before remembering yourself and then you lean into him, standing on your tip-toes to reach his face. He steadies you with a firmer grip, further down your hips, and you kiss him on the cheek.

“On the lips, baby.” He smiles and you frown, like the two tragedy and comedy masks. You’d never kissed him on the lips during the two weeks of your fake relationship. You’d thought that might’ve been crossing a line you didn’t you could come back from.

You now think he actually is being cruel.

But, then you remember what he’d said when he asked you. Do it for me, please?

You swallow your pride and plant a kiss to his lips. Hands fisting the soft material of his shirt to seemingly ground yourself. He pulls you closer and you gasp into the kiss. You both smile a little too hard until it becomes an impossible task to actually meld your lips to each other. You cave first, pulling away to breathe and assess the stupid situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“Did she see?” You murmur, breath still lost on you.

“Hmm?” Steve mumbles too, eyes pin balling across your face. Your glassy eyes, the redness of the hill of your cheeks, the smudged, glittery gloss across your cupid’s bow. “What?” He repeats.

“Nancy? She saw you kiss me?” You look a little sad when you say it, but you can’t help it.

“Oh, Nance? No, she left ages ago.” He tilts his head and grins boyishly. He’s eyes bright enough to put the sun to shame.

You swallow and your heart skips in its cage, “Then why…?”

“Because I wanted to. And I know you did, too.” He pecks you once more, right over the streak of gloss. The taste of tangerine one he already loves when he gets to taste it on you.

“Steve.” You almost whine, head dizzy and you struggle to fight the smile gracing your features. You hate him.

“I hate you.” You pull you head to his chest, leaning against him under his chin to hide your face.

“No, you don’t.” His chin digs into your hair and you can feel his words rumble through his chest and out yours.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the first time I asked you to kiss me and you said no.” He rubs a pattern up your back and you almost go boneless against him, “I mean, who would say no to kissing Steve Harrington?”

“Someone who’s into their best friend.” You mumble against him, words muffled through cotton.

“Someone who’s into their best friend.” He repeats and you look up at him through your eyelashes. He looks too happy with himself. You hate him.

“What about Nance?” You’re almost afraid of how he’ll answer, but it’s the question of the hour, obviously.

“I don’t think she’s looked at me twice since we got together. She’s definitely over me and I think the feelings are mutual.”

“Feelings are mutual?”

Steve leans back with you in his hold, pulling you close and leaning against the counter. You have to stand on your tip-toes again when he pulls you. “Don’t need her when I’ve had you this whole time. I think I’ve been too stupid to admit it, but it’s true. Always has been.”

He finally admits to being stupid and you think maybe you don’t hate him.

“I never expected you to say yes to being my fake girlfriend. But, when you did I knew I’d never convince myself of not being in love with my best friend.”

There’s a pause before you find your words again, “Just a best friend?” You smile.

He kisses you again when he plants you back to your feet, “Real girlfriend?”