i did a read :)

You normally wouldn’t care, in fact you were used to these texts. But it was New Years Eve. You were usually cooped up in your apartment, but you were currently in your shortest dress at a bar downtown.

You groaned, ripping the sparkly plastic HAPPY NEW YEAR headband off your head. When your friends spotted your disappointed face, their moods changed.

Your best friend took both your hands in hers, “turn that phone off and put yourself first for ONCE! Tonight was supposed to be the night,” she visibly frowned.

You threw your head back in frustration, “I gotta go,” you said softly.

They knew it wasn’t worth fighting. You hugged them all goodbye, and by 10:47 PM you were in a cab on your way to the Baxter Building. Before your friends closed the door they looked at one another, “hey, maybe you will get that first kiss tonight,” Ashley said wiggling her eyebrows. Your friends all giggled knowingly.

You rolled your eyes so hard they could have gotten stuck in the back of your head. “Goodnight,” you said in a sing-song voice before they laughed again and slammed the car door.

You knew exactly what they were insinuating - your crush on your boss’s brother, so technically your other boss, Johnny Storm.

You sighed and watched the city flicker around you. People stumbling on sidewalks, champagne in hands, glitter everywhere.

Tonight was supposed to be the night you got your first kiss. Before you were ripped from your party, you and your friends were scouting the bar, trying to find the perfect candidate.

You had decided just last week that you were way too old to have never been kissed. You were going to ring in the new year finally ridding yourself of that burden.

You let out another sigh and suddenly realized how you were dressed.

You have been the assistant to the Fantastic 4 for nearly five years now. You did everything, and once they felt you were competent, it turned into anything and everything. Whenever there was an emergency, you were running comms, when there was a press conference, you spoke on their behalf, and when laundry needed dry cleaning, you ran that errand too.

You could only imagine what you were being summoned to at this hour, usually you showed up in your pajamas, sometimes jeans if you were out with friends, your daily work attire being nothing more than simple dresses and blouses.

But here you were, in an abnormally short dress, fresh blow out, much more makeup than you normally wear, and heels that gave you a solid three inches.

The cab screeched in front of the Baxter Building and you braced yourself for whatever you were about to walk into.

The buzz you had developed earlier had completely subsided. You wrapped your arms around yourself to cover what was left of your dignity for showing up to work in this outfit.

You took a deep breath as you scanned your badge to enter the building.

You made your way to the elevator and pressed PH like it was muscle memory. The doors hissed open and you made your way through the dark penthouse to the lab.

You were painfully aware of how quiet it was, your heels clicking on the hard floor beneath them, the sound vibrating through you.

You swiped your badge again and found Reed bent over the lab table.

“How am I the first one here, you all live here,” you asked, shaking your head.

He chuckled without looking up from his laptop, “great question. Ben is putting together a snack plate, Sue is checking on Franklin, and I honestly have no idea where Johnny is.”

Just then, Sue and Ben came through the doors, Ben balancing multiple plates of snacks and Sue carrying a bottle of champagne.

Reed looks between Sue and the champagne.

She shrugs, “in case nothing happens, and we’re still sitting here at midnight,” she answered as if she read his mind. Then her eyes turned to you, “at least someone dressed for the occasion.”

You rolled your eyes, “I wasn’t planning on having to be here.”

She hummed, “well, you’re gonna give Johnny a heart attack in that thing.”

Your brows furrowed, and before you could ask her what she meant, the doors flew open just as dramatically as the man walking threw them.

“HELLO FAMIL-” he stopped in his tracks as his eyes landed on you. He looked disheveled in that casual way he always did. Jeans and a shirt that fit a little too well. You could faintly smell the beer mixed with his cologne from wherever he just came from.

You’re standing next to Reed, waiting for some explanation as to why you were summoned. Your eyes meet Johnny’s, and for the first time since you started working here, you rendered Johnny Storm speechless.

“Um, hello, good evening,” he said calmly, trying to gather himself.

Sue looked amused. Ben was biting back a howl of laughter. Reed ignored the entire thing.

Reed cleared his throat, finally drawing Johnny’s attention away from you. “So now that we’re all here. We picked up an unidentified object entering Earth’s atmosphere about thirty minutes ago,” he said, projecting the radar feed onto the main screen. “Trajectory is unstable. It could burn up, it could land, or it could be nothing at all. It could be an alien attack. So we wait and keep track.”

“New Year’s Eve alien,” Ben muttered. “Figures.”

Johnny leaned against the counter beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Aren’t you glad you came,” he said quietly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I know I am, this would’ve been boring without you.”

You shot him a look. “I was at a bar.”

“Ouch,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “And here I thought I was the highlight of your night.”

Sue passed you a headset, her eyes sparkling knowingly. “You’re on comms tonight,” she said gently. “If anything changes, we’ll be out and we’ll need you ready.”

You nodded, grateful for something to do that didn’t involve standing still and thinking about the way Johnny kept glancing at you like you’d personally ruined his ability to focus. The minutes ticked by slowly. Reed monitored the data, Sue hovered nearby, Ben demolished the snack plate, and Johnny hovered.

By 11:58, the lab felt stuffy. The silence pressed in on you, broken only by the low hum of machines. You sighed, painfully reminded of how you were supposed to be having your first kiss in two minutes.

You slipped your headset off and set it on the table. “I’m just going to get some air,” you said, mostly to yourself.

You padded across the floor, your heels discarded almost an hour ago, and your hair pulled loosely back.

The balcony doors slid open with a soft whoosh, cool night air immediately raising goosebumps along your arms. The city stretched out below you, alive with lights and distant fireworks already starting to pop. You rested your hands on the railing, exhaling slowly.

“You okay?”

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Johnny. You heard the doors close behind him, felt his presence at your side. “Yeah,” you said. “Just needed a second.”

He leaned his elbows on the railing too, close enough to feel intimate, but not crowding you. “For what it’s worth,” he said softly, “you look… really beautiful tonight.”

Your heart stuttered. You scoffed automatically, rolling your eyes to cover the sudden heat in your cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he said easily. “Dead serious.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the cold metal railing. Fireworks bloomed in the distance, painting the sky in bursts of color. The countdowns from nearby buildings echoed faintly through the air.

“I was supposed to get my first kiss tonight,” you blurted.

Johnny went still.

You immediately regretted it. “God, that sounded— I didn’t mean—” You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

He turned toward you then, expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “Your first kiss?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, heat creeping up to your cheeks, staring out at the skyline. “I know it's so embarrassing, I’m way too old for that. It just never happened and then my friends thought tonight would be perfect. New year, fresh start, all that. Ridding myself of the thought that I would never be kissed. And now I’m here, on alien standby, in a sparkly dress I bought just for tonight, confessing embarrassing things to my boss’s brother.”

“Hey,” he said gently, nudging your shoulder with his. “For the record, I don’t think that’s embarrassing.”

You risked a glance at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“I just… wanted it to mean something,” you admitted, “and then one day I was twenty five and unkissed,” you nearly scoffed at yourself.

The distant voices started counting down inside. Ten. Nine. You swore the city started lighting up around you.

Johnny smiled, warm and sure. “I think that can be arranged.”

“What—”

Three. Two.

At midnight, before you could finish the thought, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first, unhurried, like he was giving you time to decide. When you didn’t pull away, he smiled against your lips and kissed you again, a little deeper this time, the fireworks exploding overhead as if on cue.

When he finally pulled back, your head was spinning. “Happy New Year,” he murmured.

You laughed breathlessly. “So… that was my first kiss.”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes flicking back to your lips. “About that—would it be okay if I was your second?”

Your answer was the way you leaned back into him.

“And maybe,” he added with a grin between kisses, “your third?”

You sigh, leaning back to shout up the stairs. “Dustin!” 

“Tell him I’m coming!” Dustin yells back. 

You turn to Eddie. “He says he’s coming.” 

Eddie’s lips quirk like he doesn’t mean for them to, revealing a peek of teeth. “Yeah. I, uh, I caught that.” 

You look him up and down. Dustin said Eddie was a senior, but he looks older than that to you, if only just. He has tattoos and a self-assured energy that doesn’t usually come until adulthood, especially not to kids like Dustin. 

Eddie weathers your perusal with a steady gaze. “I didn’t know Henderson had a sister.” 

“I’m his neighbor,” you say. Close enough to a sister, as far as you’re concerned. You’ve been coming over to the Henderson’s since you were old enough to toddle across your yards. Claudia took to watching you during the day while your parents were out, and when you got older you started doing the same for Dustin. He’ll always be a bit like a kid, to you. Maybe it’s why the idea of him being so obsessed with a guy like Eddie sparks an almost feral protectiveness.

 “Oh, y/n.” It’s clear Eddie knows your name, but he says it like he’s getting a taste for it, learning its flavor. “Yeah, he talks about you.” 

Your startlement shows on your face before you can stop it. “He does?” 

“Oh, yeah. The kid worships you. It’s an honor to meet you in person.” Eddie grins (you don’t think he’s stopped grinning, actually, even when it’s only the hint of one on the corners of his mouth) and sticks out a hand. 

Begrudgingly, you take it. His palm is warm and calloused, metal rings denting briefly into your fingers as he squeezes before pulling away. 

You flatten your tongue between your molars. “How old are you?” 

Eddie laughs. “Whoa. No dinner first or anything, huh?” 

At your unimpressed look, Eddie’s smile changes just slightly. Doesn’t disappear, only shifts. His head tilting to the side like he’s trying to figure you out. 

“I’m twenty,” he says. 

“Dustin’s fifteen.” 

“So they tell me.” 

“You like hanging around with kids five years younger than you?” 

“Do I—” He gives a breathy, surprised laugh, like a gasp going out. “I’m not sure I know what you’re implying.”

You cross your arms and lean against the doorjamb, prepared to wait out a real answer, but Dustin chooses that moment to finish whatever prep Dungeons & Dragons requires. You hear his bounding footsteps on the stairs just before Eddie’s gaze flickers behind you. 

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Yup,” says Dustin, but you frown, snagging his collar on his way past you. 

“Hold on.” You touch the bill of his baseball cap. “Where’s your hat?” 

Dustin shoots you one of those looks that reminds you he really is a teenager. “On my head.” 

“It’s cold out,” you say. You fight the urge to pinch the tips of his ears, knowing he probably won’t speak to you for a month if you do it in front of his new hero Eddie. But with the way Dustin wears his hair now, his ears will freeze in an hour without a proper hat. “Go get one that’s actually for winter.” 

Dustin groans. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” You take the cap off his head, flinging it in the direction of the couch. 

Dustin’s eyes roll hard, but he doesn’t waste time arguing. You watch over your shoulder as he turns around and hikes back upstairs. 

When you turn back, Eddie’s watching you. His hands have found their way into his pockets and a look you don’t like into his eyes. 

“Oh,” he says, “I get it.” You feel your eyebrows go up, but Eddie seems almost smug. “I solemnly swear to do no harm to both of our favorite munchkin. How’s that?” 

“I’d feel better if you’d stop having your meetings in weird secretive spots like the AV room.” 

“We need privacy to play.” 

“And a bunch of super private, dark corners, apparently.” 

"There aren’t that I know about,” Eddie says, his eyes flickering down you as his smile spreads again. “Though I’m sure we could find some, if that’s what you’re getting at.” 

Irritation flashes through you fast and hot. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Not what I was getting at.” 

“You sure?” Eddie’s grin is wolfish. 

“Very sure.” 

“You don’t want to come with us, do you? Check it out for yourself?” 

“Only to make sure Dustin is safe.” 

“If you want to spend time with me, you can just say so.” 

“Okay, can we please go?” Dustin’s voice startles you, and you turn, your shoulder knocking into Eddie’s chest. You hadn’t realized he was that close. Dustin frowns. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” You take a step back from the door. Clear your throat. “Yeah, that hat looks better.” 

“Glad it has your approval.” Dustin rolls his eyes and moves past you. “We’re going to be late.” 

“Rest thine worry, oh mighty Nog.” Eddie ruffles Dustin’s hair as he goes by. His gaze returns to you a moment later, uncomfortably warm. “The campaign can’t resume without the dungeonmaster. Still want to come investigate?” he asks you. 

You cross your arms more tightly across your chest. “I think I’ll sit this one out.” 

A ripple of whispers spreads through your fifth-grade classroom.  

You blink, already pushing your chair back. “Did he say what kind of emergency?”

Eli shakes his head, serious as anything. “No. He just said we need to hurry.”

Your stomach gives a small, uneasy flip.

Eli isn’t the type to exaggerate. He’s sweet, careful. Reminds everyone when it’s time to line up after recess and always volunteers to erase the board without being asked. He's the sort of kid teachers trust without thinking twice.

If he’s the messenger, it’s because of something important.

“Alright, everyone,” you call to the class. “Keep reading quietly. I’ll be right back.”

A chorus of shuffling follows as you reach for your cardigan.

“Hurry, hurry,” Eli bounces on his heels, voice small but insistent.

Before you can answer, he reaches for your hand. His grip is tiny, warm, a little sticky—surprisingly strong. You find yourself getting dragged by his bouncy, determined steps, weaving past rows of lockers, dodging a cluster of kids heading to recess. He zigzags through the main hallway, past the water fountain, the art room, taking the shortcut through the library until you arrive at the wide, double doors leading into the gym.

The moment you push them open, chaos erupts.

Bright rubber dodgeballs zing through the air. Sneakers squeak across the glossy, lacquered floor. Laughter and triumphant shrieks ricochet off the walls, punctuated by the occasional, “Yes! Got you!” from victorious first graders.  

Coach Steve's leaned casually against the far wall, clipboard tucked under one arm, whistle hanging loose around his neck. He’s sipping from a blue ceramic mug that reads World’s Best Teacher in chipped white lettering.

Only five months into the job, yet he’s already something of a legend here at Hawkins Elementary. The younger kids adore him—dodgeball days and ridiculous warm-up games where he pretends to be a shark, stalking the gym with dramatic dun-dun noises until they’re all shrieking with laughter. Older kids trust him in quieter ways, lingering after sex ed to ask questions they’re not brave enough to bring home. 

Despite the nerves you remember from his first day, Steve has settled into teaching like it’s been waiting for him all along.

Right now, though, he’s fully in coach mode. Brow furrowed, stance wide, eyes tracking the game like it’s a championship match instead of a bunch of kids still learning how to throw straight.

“Out of bounds! That one doesn’t count.”

“Woah—no head shots, Jacob! C’mon, we talked about that.”

“You okay, Alex? I got you. Here, try it like this. Yeah, there ya go bud!”

Eli, who had been clutching your hand the entire walk across school, suddenly lets go and races toward his favorite teacher.

“Coach Steve! I did it! I got her!”

Steve looks up. Sees you.

And the grin that breaks across his face is so immediate, so fond, it'd be enough to give you both away if anyone was paying the tiniest bit of attention.

“Hey!” he laughs, stepping forward. “Nice work, buddy. Thanks for the help.”

You watch, eyes narrowed in confusion as he ruffles Eli’s curls and slaps a high five against his tiny palm.

Eli puffs up with pride and pivots to sprint back to the game.

“Whoa—hang on, pal.”

Steve drops to his knees, setting the clipboard aside as he reaches for the loose strap on Eli’s shoe. He fastens it with careful, practiced fingers, giving it a quick tug to make sure it’ll hold.

Your stomach melts a little at the sight of him crouched like that: focused, patient, so gentle with this kid who’s staring at him like he hung the moon.

“There we go, champ,” he grins, giving Eli's sneaker a little pat. “Good as new. Now go have fun, alright? Your team missed you.”

Eli nods hard, then rockets back into the game without another word.

Steve straightens and finally turns to you, eyes warm, smile soft—and just a touch guilty.

“Mr. Harrington,” you say, crossing your arms carefully, “what exactly is the emergency you pulled me out of class for?”

His mouth quirks sheepishly, hands slipping into his pockets.

“Well, I just…” He steps closer, dropping his voice. “Haven’t seen you all morning. I missed you.”

You blink.

“You—” A breathy laugh slips out before you can stop it. “You sent poor Eli to fetch me because you missed me?”

He nods like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Yeah. He's my fastest kid.”  

“No, that's not the...” you trail off, turning your head, failing completely to hide your smile.

Steve steps closer, angling the clipboard between you so that, to anyone looking in, it would look like you’re addressing some very concerning issues with the class roster.

Well, except for the part where his eyes are glued to your face.

There’s this soft intensity in his gaze that makes your breath hitch, just by holding it. You find yourself staring back, unable to look away, appreciating the faint creases around his temples, how they deepen with his smile, the plush curve of his bottom lip and the rounded apples of his cheeks as they get pushed upward.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, voice all deep and honey-warm. “Just needed to look at you for a second.”

You shake your head, cheeks warming despite yourself.

There’s a reason you’ve been keeping this thing with Steve a secret.

You both realized, pretty early on, that acting normal in a building full of nosy children and nosier adults was a losing battle. You had to learn to bend with it, catching tiny, fleeting moments in the spaces between, holding onto each one as tightly as you can.

It wasn’t perfect. Mrs. Kline, the school secretary, has definitely noticed the two of you laughing a little too freely by the copier. One of your students will occasionally squint at you during silent reading time, wondering why a tiny scrap of paper left on your table at lunch leaves you grinning for the rest of the day.

Still, you make it work.

A shared coffee in the teachers’ lounge before the morning bell. Standing side-by-side near the parking lot fence as the buses roll in. A granola bar tucked under your desk with a note folded impossibly small.

you look beautiful today ◡̈

He repeats the message to you now, even as you roll your eyes and try to look away.

“Seriously, I mean it," he murmurs, tracing your face with his eyes—the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek—before lingering, unmistakably, on your mouth. “Want to kiss you so bad right now.”

You snort, nudging the sleeve of his sweatshirt with a finger. It’s soft, heather-gray, the Hawkins Elementary mascot faint and cracked across the chest.

“That’s deeply unprofessional of you, Mr. Harrington.”  

He groans under his breath, brow creasing as he tips his head back. “God, I love it when you say it like that. Say it one more time?”  

“Jesus—Steve!” you hiss, half-laughing, eyes darting toward the gym floor like the kids might suddenly develop super-hearing over the screech of sneakers and flying dodgeballs.   

Instead of stepping back, he leans in closer, lips parted in that familiar half-pout, eyes full of mock agony. “Can’t help it, honey. You’re fucking killing me over here.”

“Language,” you warn him, simply out of pure habit.

He smirks, lips twitching.

From the far end of the gym, a group of kids cheer triumphantly, “Yes! Coach Steve! We won!”

You both jump back like you’ve been caught doing something much worse than grinning at each other like idiots.

“Uh—great! Great job, gang!” Steve calls, clapping his hands. “Let's get all the balls in the cart and then grab some water, yeah? Five-minute break.”

Then he leans back in, brows raised. “See? Total professional. I’m telling you.”

You shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You’re still smiling when he pivots, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one’s paying attention. Satisfied, he turns back to you, brows drawn into a hopeful, pleading slant.

"C'mon," he murmurs, lifting the clipboard up like a partition. "I’ll get another game going. The kids won’t even notice. Just you... me...” He gestures between you, then toward the double doors leading outside. “Five minutes?”

You press your lips together, schooling your expression back into something stern. “Steve Harrington. I am not fucking you behind the school gym.”

"Language!" He gasps, mimicking your tone. “And jeez, who said anything about that? I was just gonna, you know, have a very professional conversation with you… about teaching.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, c’mon, bab—"

“Coach Steve?”

Both of your heads snap down at the same time.

Eli stands there, chin tipped up, hands clasped neatly behind his back like he’s been waiting for his turn to speak. He’s rocking gently on his heels, eyes bright with curiosity as he looks between the two of you.

“Heyyy, buddy!” Steve laughs nervously, voice jumping up an octave. “What’s up? You okay?”

Eli nods.

Then, completely matter-of-fact, he asks:

“Coach Steve, when you marry her, can I come?”

Steve chokes on absolutely nothing.

“When—what?”

“When you get married,” Eli repeats patiently, like Steve’s just being a little slow today. “I wanna come.”

Steve squats down so fast he almost drops the clipboard.

“Eli,” he says carefully, “why do you think we’re getting married?”

Eli shrugs, unfazed. “’Cause you’re prac-tis married.”

“Practice… practice married?”

“Yeah. Like my Auntie Jen and her friend Mark at Thanksgiving.”

Steve blinks. “Okay, and what's... why do you think we’re practice married?”

Eli doesn’t hesitate. He points toward the front of the gym, in the general direction of your classroom. “’Cause you always wait for her outside her door.”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it.

“And you bring her coffee. But you don’t bring us coffee.”

“Well,” Steve murmurs faintly, “that’s ‘cause you’re six.”

Eli shrugs again. “And you talk to her really soft. Like this,” he cups his hand around his mouth to demonstrate, whispering loudly. “Also, you always save her a chair at ass-em-blee.”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, glancing up at you before looking back at Eli. “That’s, uh… very observant of you, buddy.”

Eli isn’t done.

“And you make funny faces at her in the hallway. Oh! And you fixed her pencil sharpener. And, and, there was one time you looked at her, and you didn’t look away for one... two... three...” He glances down at his fingers and starts counting under his breath. “five... six... seven... eigh—”

“Okay!” Steve laughs loudly, holding up his hands. “Okay, buddy, I get it. That’s... that’s a long time.”

Eli nods, clearly pleased with himself. “Auntie Jen and Mark, they used to go everywhere together. And Mark fixed all the stuff around her house. Then later they got married for real.”

He looks between the two of you, satisfied.

“So. I think you’re practice married.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and crouch beside Steve. “Well... I think that’s a pretty solid theory, Eli.”

“Mm-hm, thanks,” he nods confidently. Then he spins back to Steve. “So, when you do the real one, can I come? I’m really good at sitting still. And my mom says when people get married they always eat cake. I love cake.” He spreads his arms wide. “Auntie Jen’s was this big!”

Steve presses his lips together, letting out a short, incredulous snort. “You know what, pal? Sure. Whe—if we get married, you’re more than welcome to come. And we’ll get the biggest cake we can find, okay?”

Eli beams. “Okay!”

He starts to run back to the group, then skids to a stop and turns around.

“Hey, Coach Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You should ask her nicely,” Eli says, serious as anything. “With flowers. Mark did that.”

And then he’s gone.

Steve stays crouched, staring after him, jaw slack.

“…Did a six-year-old just give me relationship advice?”

“Mm, seems like it.”

He stands slowly, running a hand through his hair, eyes still following Eli as he rejoins the others.

“You think he spotted it before we did?” he asks quietly. “Back when... you know, we were still trying to figure out what we were doing?”

You smile. “Probably way before then.”

Steve's still distracted when you put your hand on his shoulder, quickly checking to see that no one’s watching before pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek.

He blinks, stunned. “Wha—no, wait, shit—”

He reaches for you a full second too late; you’re already headed for the door.

“Language. Have a good rest of your class, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve watches you go, hand frozen at his cheek.

Across the gym, Eli spots you and waves enthusiastically, completely unaware of just how accurate his little theory was.

The proof?

A small velvet box, tucked away in Steve’s bedside drawer, waiting patiently for the right moment. .   *　✦　　.　 ˚　✦　 .

But who could blame a girl for wanting the days where she wasn’t tormented by another being that she had failed, let down everyone she loved and the mere existence of her was at the expense of someone else, someone more innocent and had life behind her eyes. 

You’d prefer to say that Hawkins was like living in hell than go down the wormhole of suppressed feelings. And the fact that you couldn’t leave this mess of a town due to the military quarantining you and everyone you wished to avoid, validates your statement that Hawkins had it out for you.

Everyone suffered in the spring of 1986, the group was severed and discovered that everything they thought they knew about the Upside Down was wrong; everything they had already fought was just the beginning.

Over time, everyone moved on. Distanced themselves from the reality they lived out 18 months ago and focused on the now, how they could save Hawkins after Vecna had fulfilled his promise.

But it’s harder to move on when it should’ve been you lying in Hawkins Hospital, heart monitor steady and face pale, your body still as the doctor insisted you were in a coma. You should’ve been sick of the stench of the hospital, annoying everyone that came to visit you as you showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. 

It should’ve been your walkman resting on the bedside table, headphones draped loosely around your neck after everyone got fed up of hearing the same song on repeat, binning out the boombox and preferring to have the music reserved for your ears only.

But it wasn’t you. In some twisted reality you called normality, Max Mayfield was the one who suffered the fate that was designed for you.

You visited her often, not only because you babysitted her throughout her childhood and made it known to everyone that she was your favourite of the group, but because your endless guilt forced you to sit in the chair beside her bed, staring at the reminder that you had failed; and everyone around you was too nice to say it to your face.

In the time that you had held Max’s hand with your own clammy palm, you had grown accustomed to seeing Lucas almost every day and muttering the same mantra to his hopeless face: “I’m sorry. I did everything I could.”

And Lucas would interrupt you every time, “Don’t ever be sorry. I’m glad you’re here.”

At least someone could put a soft smile on your face as Hawkins crumbles around you.

You wished you could confide in him but he was still a kid battling with his own issues, high school still relevant as he tried to keep the town from falling apart, the love of his life was unconscious and his best friend had changed severely within the 18 months, much like the rest of you.

One name rang around your mind as you searched for an output, someone you wished you could let in and not feel so alone. But whatever friendship or connection you had with Steve Harrington was in the past, and it seemed adamant to stay there.

Oh, Steve Harrington. The man you would go to for anything, whether that was fighting inter-dimensional creatures or dragging someone along to the movie you had been dying to watch and knew you could convince him with the promise of paying for him; although he would never let you, he preferred to enjoy your company.

You remembered the way he refused to let go of your hand as you ventured below Starcourt Mall and how he promised he would keep you safe as you sat back to back, mind running a million thoughts as you dreaded what the Russians would do to you.

How could you forget when you sat on the bathroom floor, sandwiched in the stalls between Steve and Robin as their words were prompted by the ‘truth serum’. And how Steve admitted that he had fallen in love with someone else after Nancy Wheeler.

Of course, his admission was cut short by Dustin barging into the bathrooms, his posture reeking of stress and urgency, enough to get the three of you on your feet and any further words trapped behind the burning walls of Starcourt Mall.

Then as Vecna forced his way into your lives and targeted you and Max, you felt your sanity snatched out from under your feet and Steve’s hands to support you as you convinced yourself you were losing your mind.

He used to have your walkman and favourite song tucked into the backpack Dustin carried everywhere, refusing to let you leave the house or out of his sight without it in touching distance. You’d tell him that it was manifesting a bad outcome, but he’d scoff and say, “I don’t care. As long as you’re safe.”

To say you were fond of Steve Harrington was an understatement. You had been harbouring a crush on him for a while now, but who didn’t? 

How could you not fall for Steve “The Hair” Harrington?

Steve with his perfect hair and handsome face, with a laugh you could recognise anywhere. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you that made it easy to become enamoured with him, how his eyes would soften whenever you spoke up and how even in the darkest times, he would cup your face and make sure the only thing you saw was him.

You could feel the ghost of his hand brush against the small of your back whenever you stood alone in the group as they discussed the crawls, reminding you of the man that now stood on the opposite side of the room to you and how he used to be your anchor back to reality.

You were told good things never last, but you never put Steve Harrington into the category of things you could lose.

You found yourself pushing him away the second Max closed her eyes and they never reopened. The last words Steve spoke directly to you were reassurances whispered into your hair, his arms wrapped around your frame as your body shook from hearing the final chime of the clock, confirming your fears that Max had been cursed one final time.

You shut yourself out from everyone. It was expected, but no one made the effort to drag your past self back to the surface, leaving her drowning in the sorrow that the spring of 86’ provided.

You understood that it shouldn’t be you standing here listening to the group relay ideas for the crawl, it should’ve been a redhead tucked under Lucas’ arm who mocked any stupid ideas that Mike would throw out.

To remove yourself from the equation was easier than accepting that the past cannot be changed.

If your lack of inclusion in the group was the closest you could reach to the fate that was written under your name, then it was what you would conform to. No matter how much it hurts to feel pitying eyes on your form.

"𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 really promising.” Steve sighed as his flashlight scaled the walls of the lab, falling behind Dustin’s hurried steps.

How you found yourself in the Upside Down’s version of Hawkins Lab with Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and Dustin and tensions high was a question you wished you could say was unanswered. But after driving Steve’s precious beamer into a wall and following Dustin’s throw-in-the-dark idea, your day had already decided to suck.

“We’re in the lobby.” Dustin huffed. If you thought you were outward with your uncomfortable situation with Steve, Dustin made sure he won that argument. 

You walked beside Nancy as she furrowed her brows at the surroundings, “And… where are we going exactly?” She tilted her head.

“Right. Like, what is it we’re looking for?” Jonathan asked as he looked at Dustin. “You’ve all seen Return of the Jedi?” Dustin said.

You stumbled to a stop as your heart clenched uncomfortably. You were the one who introduced the franchise to Steve. When he secured his job at Family Video beside you and Robin, you made sure he knew some recent films and found yourselves brushing shoulders on movie nights and watching his brows screw up as he tried to understand the plot.

You felt a pair of eyes burning into the side of your face. “The one with the teddy bears?” Steve mumbled.

“Ewoks.” You and Dustin said in unison, “Yeah, it’s the best one.” Steve responded.

Nancy raised her eyebrows, “Is it?” Dustin scoffed, “No, but every child loves it, so tracks.” You pressed your lips together to prevent a small smile from appearing on your face. Nancy’s eyes flickered to you and noticed, her eyes softening as she watched a glimpse of your past self slip out.

“In the film, if you recall,” Dustin stepped forwards, “the rebels need to destroy a second Death Star, but it’s surrounded by a protective energy shield, which is created by a shield generator.”

“Yeah, cool. Thanks for the summary of a movie we’ve all seen.” Steve’s voice echoed around the lifeless lobby. Of course he remembered the film, despite watching it to satisfy you only, he understood the context to some extent.

“It could be relevant, Steve.” You cleared your throat, eyes glancing his way as he turned around to face you, his expression unreadable.

Dustin nodded in your direction, “Thank you!” He gestured to you before continuing his analogy, “Look, I think this circular flesh wall is Vecna’s version of an energy shield, except it’s not sci-fi.”

“It’s supernatural, created by Vecna’s dark magic. And this dark magic shield is what’s preventing us from reaching him and saving Holly.” You crossed your arms over your chest as the group huddled around Dustin. “But if my math is correct, the generator for the shield has to be in this lab.” He finished.

Jonathan stood between you and Steve, “So if we find this dark magic shield generator…” Even hearing the words come out of someone else’s mouth felt strange, you couldn’t believe you had been roped into this again.

Dustin nodded, “We destroy the wall.” You fiddled with your flashlight, “Find Vecna.”

“Save Holly.” Nancy finished your sentence, her sister being at the forefront of her mind.

“Medals for all.” You offered Dustin a tight smile as his sarcastic enthusiasm had you wanting to find this shield generator as soon as possible, needing to breathe after being suffocated in the uncomfortable tension.

Steve placed his hands on his hips, “And it looks like what?”

“How would you expect me to know that?” Dustin rolled his eyes and turned his back on the group. You let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed your face with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping that when they reopen, it’ll all be some sick illusion.

Steve scoffed as he watched the tension build in your shoulders, “If you’re gonna complain then you should just leave now. This wasn’t exactly our ideal location.” 

You lifted your head and realised Steve’s annoyance was directed at you. Your face screwed up with confusion and your eyes darted between Nancy and Jonathan, “I’m not complaining. Where’d you get that from?”

Steve opened his mouth to retort but Nancy took a step forward to follow in Dustin’s trail, “We don’t have time for this.” She ordered and nodded for you to follow, not seeing her shoot Steve a disappointed gaze.

Jonathan cleared his throat to diffuse the tension, leaving Steve behind the pack and eyes trained on the back of the person he used to call his best friend. 

Dustin shouldered the door open and you suppressed a groan when you made eye contact with two flights of stairs. “Up or down?” You asked.

“I say both. Search in two teams. Cover more ground.” Nancy concluded, keeping a tight grip on her bag thrown over her shoulder.

Steve nodded beside you, ignoring the way your shoulders touched in the tight space, “Yeah, that’s cool with me, but can we just switch the teams up?”

Your jaw clenched as you remembered all the times everyone would assume you and Steve were paired together in these situations. You suspected that he would want distance from you but to hear it out loud and under unfortunate circumstances made you want to bash your head into the wall.

“Nance, you and me to go up?” Nancy’s head snapped towards the brunette, her eyes wide, “Oh, I mean…” She shook her head.

“Are you serious?” Jonathan scoffed. You almost laughed at being situated in the middle of Steve and Jonathan as they battled it out for who could be more ‘macho’, as you and Nancy liked to call it.

“Us three,” Steve gestured at you and Dustin, “We need some space.”

Jonathan shrugged, “Fine. How about me and you? Then her and Nance?” You raised your brows, suddenly on board with the pairing options.

“I think we need some space too.” Steve shut down your ideal groups rather quickly.

“So everyone but Nancy. That’s just… It’s convenient.” Jonathan’s voice dropped as he glanced over at you staring at the floor, “I don’t get it. What are you trying to prove to her?” He jutted his thumb out in your direction.

You widened your eyes, “Me?” Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, “This has nothing to do with her.”

“How about this?” You raised your voice, hand rubbing your temple as their bickering started to give you a headache, “I’ll go alone. Three groups will be more beneficial.” 

You lifted your flashlight and went to take a step in the other direction, but Nancy’s hand tugging you on the back of your shirt sent you stumbling back and crashing into Steve’s chest.

“You’re not going alone.” Nancy said firmly, refusing to let you out of anyone's sight. 

You readjusted your footing and brushed your clothing as you leaned out of Steve’s touch, “Of course you wanted to go alone.” You heard him mutter under his breath.

Before you could respond, Nancy cut you off. “Hey, we don’t have time for this. Let’s just keep it simple, stick to the usual teams.” She shot you an apologetic look.

“Nance, please--” You groaned as Steve and Dustin offered her the same pleas, “I can’t--”

“End of discussion.” She raised her voice, her feet taking her up the stairs and avoiding the three frustrated looks directed at her. Jonathan patted you on the shoulder and whispered an apology under his breath as he brushed past you and followed Nancy, leaving Steve and Dustin to sigh in the wake.

Steve sighed and looked over at Dustin, “Awesome.” He said sarcastically. Dustin raised his brows and dragged his feet down the extensive amount of steps.

Steve turned to you and you looked up at him. You could recall the days when his eyes would soften when they met your own, a smile gracing his flushed face and hands raised to fix his hair, desperate to constantly look his best whenever you saw him.

Now those eyes felt like a void, you couldn’t decipher what he was feeling. “Just awesome.” He repeated and barged your shoulder slightly as he passed you.

You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, easing the tension and headache that was brewing. You reminded yourself that this was for the greater of Hawkins because if it was up to you, you would have sprinted out of the lab at the first chance than explore with your ex-best friend and the kid that hates his guts.

With each step you took, you felt the throbbing pain in your head get worse. It wasn’t unusual to get migraines with the stress you found yourself under constantly, but this one felt different. 

It felt familiar.

The pain caused you to feel lightheaded, tripping on the last step and forcing a hand out on the wall to catch your fall. You clenched your teeth together and pressed the heel of your hand against your temple.

Steve heard heavy footsteps behind him and turned around, the beam of his flashlight shining right in your face, “You alright?” He asked, voice teetering on edge of concern.

You nodded and stuck a hand out to block the light shining at you, “Yeah, I’m good.” You lied through your teeth, pushing through the ache to follow Dustin who led the pair of you.

Steve nodded slowly and retracted his flashlight, “Okay, that was too many stairs.” He joked weakly, trying to diffuse the worry that flooded his body.

Dustin, unaware of the torment you were experiencing behind him, quoted, “Treasures are always hidden in the deepest depths of the dungeon.”

“What is it, a treasure or a magic shield generator? Keep your metaphors straight, dude.” Steve said as he turned his back on you.

You sighed, “Analogy.” You whispered to yourself, correcting his statement but lacking the care to fight with him once again.

Steve and Dustin strode forward, pushing on the double doors to reveal a room designed for kids. Rainbows were painted on the floors and walls and games were scattered all over the floor.

“Did not expect to find a daycare in this hellhole.” Steve felt his heart rate pick up at the dystopian room, “That’s a perk.”

You entered the room and leaned your back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as it felt like someone was toying with your brain, prodding at it until you cracked. You didn’t even notice begin to leave the room until his frustration boiled over.

“While I search the rest of the basement, why don’t you stay here and play with your balls?” He chucked the object back at Steve, “Perfect, yeah.” Steve clenched his jaw.

The pair bickered back and forth before Dustin left with a scowl on his face. You leaned over to watch his figure retreating and turned to Steve who hoisted himself up to sit on one of the desks.

You interrupted the silence, “So I take it you two don’t get along anymore.” You crossed your arms over your chest and pushed yourself to stand upright.

Steve scoffed, “What would you know? You haven’t been here.”

Your movement halted, “I’ve been here.” You squinted at him as he rested his elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been here,” Steve gestured to your figure, “But here,” He tapped the side of his head, tongue wedged between his teeth in frustration, “You’re somewhere else. And you have been for the last 18 months.”

Your breathing shallowed, “That’s called grief, Steve. We all go through it.” 

“But what are you grieving? That’s what I don’t get.” He snapped, eyes meeting your own as you shrunk under his hard gaze.

“Max.” Her name felt wrong on the tip of her tongue. You refused to say it for months after she was admitted into hospital, the reminder of the redhead had you wanting to hurl on the floor of the lab.

Steve let out a loud laugh, “You’re grieving someone that’s not even dead! What are the chances that Max wakes up during all of this? Pretty damn high if you ask me.” He ran his hand through his hair and watched your face screw up in sheer disgust at his words.

Steve licked his lips, “You know, I think you secretly wanted this.”

You felt your heart stop in your chest, “What?” 

You watched the brunette nod, “I think you’ve been spiralling for a while now and used this whole Max and Vecna situation as an excuse. You were barely affected during the curse and now you’ve decided to make it everyone else’s problem.” The difference is, you were affected. And Steve knew it.

Who was the one who held you as you recalled your first vision, hands shaking and kisses peppered along your hairline. The same man who basically told you that you had it easy that spring, that you’re living off the thrill of being cursed a handful of times.

You turned your back on him, “I’m not doing this right now.” You heard him shout as you pushed the double doors open, “Shutting me out once again!”

You hurried out the room, not baring to stand the sight of his face again. You feel a bile rise in the back of your throat, the noises of the dormant lab suffocate you, and the throbbing pain between your skull intensifies.

You hadn’t noticed anything was wrong until you saw a drop of red stain your sweater. Your head snapped down and tugged at the material to gain a closer look.

Your eyes widened and you lifted your hand to touch under your nose. Retracting your hand, you saw that the tips of your fingers were painted red.

“Shit.” You cursed and tugged the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, wiping the blood that streamed from your nose onto the material. 

You furrowed your brows as you racked your brain for the last time your nose decided to spontaneously bleed. It was so out of the ordinary that you couldn’t remember. 

A light behind a door caught your eye. It looked out of place, like whatever was behind it was not meant to be there. Your feet carried you towards it before your brain comprehend what was going on.

Just as you placed the palm of your hand against the door, inches away from pushing it open, you heard a loud crash from the room you were previously in.

Your mind running a million different worst case scenarios, you sprinted towards the noise. As you got closer, you heard familiar yells and curses, the sound of items cluttering to the floor made your heart pick up.

Skidding around the corner, you stumbled into the room panting. Your eyes locked onto Steve as he sat up, groaning in pain, “You know what, man? I’m done.” He slowly clambered to his feet, ignoring your worried gaze.

“I’m done!” He shouted and barged against your shoulder as you stood in the doorway, eyes flickering between a beaten Dustin on the floor and Steve who had a fresh bruise forming on his cheek.

Putting two and two together, you tugged Steve back by gripping onto his jacket, “What the fuck just happened?” You raised your voice, on the heels of Steve as he tried to shake off your hold.

“None of your business.” His voice broke as he refused to spare Dustin a second glance, hearing his voice echo down the hallways, “You dumb, fake asshole!”

You let out an exasperated sigh and swallowed your nerves, “I think it’s my business when you scare the shit out of me!” You yanked him to a stop and he looked past you, “Is that a bruise?”

Your fingers gently brushed the underside of Steve’s jaw before he slapped your hand away, “No--” “Did you get in a fight?” You furrowed your brows.

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, “Can you stop?” His eyes locked onto the blood staining the sleeve of your sweater, furrowing his brows as he wondered when you had gotten hurt.

Through your concern, you failed to hear him, “Tell me what the hell happened--” “God! You’re so ungrateful!” Steve yelled and you flinched slightly at the tone of voice, one he had never used on you before.

You squinted up at him, “Ungrateful?” You voiced your offence as your hands dropped from tending to his recent wounds, and his own dropped off your shoulders, finding home in gripping his jeans.

Steve bit down on his bottom lip as if what was spewing out of his mouth was the filtered half, “You’re standing here and breathing just fine by yourself! But guess who isn’t?”

Your breath hitched as your mind went to Max who lay still, hooked up to anything the hospital could find to classify her condition to be a coma, “Where are you going with this?” Your voice wavered.

“I’m saying that Max would’ve been grateful.” Steve’s response was enough to sever any chance of redeeming what you had. You could barely recognise the man standing in front of you, the one so overcome with anger that he wouldn’t understand the severity of his words until moments later.

You took a deep breath, “And I’m saying that you’re being a dick.”

“You got lucky that spring and you know it.” You took a step back from him, “You’re being mean, Steve.”

Steve looked down and huffed out a laugh, “And we’ve been telling you this whole time, ‘It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.’” You felt tears prickle at your eyes, “In my opinion, I think you could’ve done more--” “Shut up!” You shouted and shoved him in the chest. “And if you hadn't left Max alone that night…”

Tears blurred your vision, “Are you saying that it should’ve been me?”

The silence should’ve been your answer. You should’ve left the second Steve didn’t immediately shut down the ludicrous statement. But your heart yearned to know the truth, to know what he had really thought about you since that night; if everything between you was simply a wrinkle in time, something that was never meant to exist but would ultimately be crushed by the harsh reality.

“Your interpretation. Not mine.” Steve mumbled.

You felt like you had been doused with cold water. It turns out Steve Harrington was the same man he was all those years ago. And to confirm your worst fears, to admit that he’d been lying to you the entire time you thought you could be falling in love with him; this was definitely the worst moment in your entire life.

You nodded weakly, a forced smile etched across your face, “And I’m the one who’s changed, right?”

Your words hit Steve like a truck, and if you disappearing out of his sight with tears cascading down your cheeks didn’t hurt enough, then the realisation of his words did.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘, 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍, 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 and Dustin had all found each other after. They were hunched over the book Dustin had found before he could warn Nancy to not shoot whatever force they located in the sky.

Nancy chewed on the skin around her thumb, “No sign of her?” 

Dustin shook his head after peering around a corner, “I haven’t seen her since…” His voice trailed off as he remembered his fight with Steve, regret forming in the pit of his stomach as a bruise formed on his friend’s cheek.

Steve looked like he could throw up any second. His face was pale and his hair was matted. He hadn’t seen you since he had said the words he wished he could forget, the way he had spoken to you and the way your face crumbled.

He didn’t mean any of it. Not one word.

He wishes to never relive the feeling he felt when he watched you walk away from him, and how he rounded the corner to meet Nancy and Jonathan and you weren’t beside them.

You were alone in the lab. And it was all Steve’s fault.

His ever present guilt was cut off but a guttural scream outside the lab. Nancy rose to her feet immediately and gasped, “What was that?”

Jonathan copied her movement, “What was what?”

Silence fell over the group as they listened in, “Holly.” Nancy whispered and dropped the items in her hand, sprinting towards the door with Jonathan hot on her tail.

Dustin made a move to follow them but Steve grabbed him by the arm, “Holly. She’s out of Vecna’s reach.” His chest tightened.

Dustin furrowed his brows, “What do you mean?”

“There’s 12 kids. If Holly’s out…” Steve muttered and Dustin’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Who’s in?” Dustin’s voice wavered and watched Steve’s eyes dart around the room.

Steve knew who Vecna was targeting the second his suspicions were confirmed. He remembered the blood staining the sleeve of your sweater, the headaches that made you feel dizzy and the way you looked uncomfortable the second you found yourself in the Upside Down.

You were Vecna’s next target and Steve Harrington had no idea where you were.

LOL

taglisttttttt:

@alllnightz @urcutetozier @eridanuswave @sheisjoeschateau @bornindarkparadise @celeya @inlovewithchriss

He's been having a lot of sleepovers with his friends since the Starcourt Mall incident. None of them want to be the person who says it but they're all terrified of being alone. He's woken up quite a few times in a cold sweat with gory images in his mind, and he doubts he's the only one. Steve's parents are hardly ever in town so his house becomes the designated place for sleepovers.

The credits are rolling for whatever movie they watched, Mike can't remember because he fell asleep half-way through. His memory is hazy of what time they started but if he had to guess it's probably close to one in the morning.

Dustin is fast asleep next to him on the floor and Will's knocked out on the couch above them. They had been designing their characters for a new DND campaign, Mike's pretty sure there's pen on his cheek from falling asleep while writing the character details.

One of the other side of the couch Max is squished between El and Lucas, and he sincerely doubts she'll mind come morning. She'll probably be grateful considering she's been having some of the worst nightmares.

His eyes make his way over to the loveseat where you had been sitting with Steve. What once started as a respectable distance to avoid incurring any teasing has disappeared. You're leaning on Steve, curled into his side and he has an arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulders. You're trying to focus on the credits, dangerously close to dozing off while Steve stares down at you with something in his eyes Mike can't quite understand.

What he does understand is that his parents have never held each other like that.

"You sleepin' over there baby?" Steve's voice is a soft murmur, smiling as he looks down at you.

"Mmmm…" you let out a sleepy hum, barely acknowledging his words before burrowing deeper into his side.

Steve's smile widens in response and all of a sudden Mike's stomach twists. It's not disgust or repulsion but… embarrassment. He's intruding on something special, he should just close his eyes and go back to sleep. That's what he should do, but he can't bring himself to.

"Mmm…. need to put… the kids,” you mumble just barely comprehensible in your sleepy stupor.

“What about the kids sweetheart?” Steve whispers brushing hair out of your face.

“Put em to bed….” you’re practically in Steve’s lap despite the fact the loveseat was made for two. “Mike and Dustin are on the floor… and clean up…..”

“I’ll do it,” Steve murmurs gently and kisses your forehead, “but first I'm putting you to bed.”

“No…..” your brow furrows in your half conscious state.

“Yes,” Steve smooths out the crease with his thumb and kisses your cheek. Then in one smooth movement he’s standing up and hoisting you into his arms, all while making sure the blanket is still tucked around you. You let out a quiet giggle when he picks you up and he notices.

"Having fun over there?" he teases quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It's almost a knee-jerk reaction, he can't keep his lips off you.

"I feel special," you whisper as if you're sharing a secret and Steve's face softens even more. Mike didn't know it was possible for someone to look at another person like that.

"You are special," Steve whispers in that same secretive tone and kisses your forehead. "C'mon pretty, let's get you to bed."

Your words fade into quiet indecipherable whispers and giggles as Steve carries you to and up the staircase and Mike finds himself staring at the empty loveseat. A million thoughts swirling in his head and none at the same time. He's about to sit up when he hears Steve coming down the staircase and immediately closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

He doesn't know why, he could just pretend he woke up now. He doesn't have to give Steve any indication that he witnessed their intimate moment, but for some reason a part of him believe that waking up now would ruin something. Something he can't quite put words to.

The older teen shuffles around a little, turning off the TV, before coming over to where Mike and Dustin are laying on the floor. Then before Mike knows it Steve is lifting him up and placing him on the couch. He feels like a little kid being carried to bed after falling asleep on the car ride home. Though that only happened once or twice at his mother's insistence, usually his father woke him up to walk inside.

He hears some more shuffling and then the couch dips presumably with Dustin's weight. He hears the sounds of Steve cleaning up trash and crafts, carefully organizing their DND papers as to not be scolded later. Just when he thinks Steve is about to head upstairs a blanket is gently tucked around his shoulders and a damp cloth is pressed to his cheek to wipe the pen marks off.

"Wheeler?" Steve whispers gently, and his body tenses but his eyes don't open.

Noticing the tension in his body, Mike hears Steve let out a huff indicating he's smiling. He tucks the blanket a little tighter and ruffles Mike's hair.

"Go to bed kid."

Steve tucks a blanket around Dustin before flicking off all the lights and setting the heater to a comfortable temperature. Then he quietly creeps upstairs and Mike can hear the soft murmurs of you two speaking. He doesn't need to be in the room to have an idea of what's being said.

Hours were longer, people were tense, and you were tired.

You were standing behind the counter catching your breath, when a blond man with tousled hair walked in. He had a leather jacket and a scarf lazily around his neck, arguably not dressed warm enough for the below freezing temperatures that were hitting New York this December.

You took a deep breath in and plastered your customer service smile on your face, “hi, welcome in, anything I can help you with today?” You moved around the counter so that you were more available to him.

That’s when you got a good look at him and realized who he was. Bright blond hair, messy on purpose, smug smile, and big blue eyes - it was Johnny Storm. New Yorks it boy.

“Hey, yeah, actually. I'm looking for a gift for my sister. And I’m at a complete loss.” He said casually.

You nodded and smiled, “how old is she? Anything specific she asked for?”

“She’s a little older than you and I, if I had to guess that is. It’s her first Christmas as a mom so I wanted to get her something a little special.”

You nodded, “okay, we can start with jewelry."

You waved him over to the counter and took your key out, pulling some options out of the case.

He unzipped his jacket and leaned his elbows on the counter, looking thoughtfully.

You were trying to maintain your composure and pretend you didn't know you were helping Johnny Storm look for a gift for his super cool sister Sue Storm.

Johnny POV

In and out. That was the plan, grab Sue her perfume that she asked for every Christmas, and leave.

Then he saw you behind the counter and he could feel the momentary falter in his swagger.

You smiled brightly at him, you looked tired, but you were smiling nonetheless.

When you asked him if he needed help he thought he was going to melt, he swore he forgot how to speak.

His brain hadn't caught up yet and before he knew it he was following you to the jewelry counter, completely off task.

While you were picking things out to show him he took a moment to admire your hair, it looked so shiny and framed your face so perfectly. The sweater you were wearing fit you perfectly, and your cheeks were red, probably from the cold outside contrasted to the warmth in the store, or so he guessed. Maybe your cheeks were just naturally rosy.

Then you smiled again, motioning at the items you pulled out from the showcase. And in that moment he knew Sue was going to have a really good Christmas, because he needed an excuse to keep talking to you.

“You still with me?” You asked jokingly, realizing he wasn’t listening to a single word you had just said about the pieces in front of you.

He shook his head, “yes yes absolutely, sorry just zoned out for a second there.”

You smiled again, how was he going to survive this? “Okay well, I have some options, but what does she usually prefer, is she more simple? What does her job entail because we don’t want to go overboard and then she can’t even show it off.” You asked.

“We are pretty hands on, it’s a rather…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “messy business. But wait, does all of that really matter when picking out… jewelry."

You laughed, and Johnny swore he was going to combust at the sound.

“It absolutely matters. Hands on and messy? We’re going to want to keep it simple, but also sturdy, so you’re going to want something like platinum.”

You put some of the options away and replaced them with new ones.

"What's your price range?”

After he said the number he could tell you were trying not to raise your eyebrows in surprise, you cleared your throat, “well your sister is very lucky to have you, and that is definitely a number I can work with.”

“So she’s a first time mom, what’s the baby’s name, does she ever wear the birthstone, or anything like that?”

He told you Franklin’s birthday and you were able to pull out some pieces with his stone on it.

“Any of these?”

Johnny was tapping his chin, thinking thoughtfully. The truth was they all looked exactly the same to him and he realized how far he had taken this little infatuation he has with you.

He pointed to the one in the middle and you agreed.

“Do you want me to wrap it for you?” You asked sweetly, and it sounded like it was just or him even though he knew you probably had to ask everyone that question.

He nodded and you moved swiftly towards the other counter.

He moved closer to the register where you began wrapping the item.

“So, how long have you worked here,” he looked at your name tag and said your name.

He swore he saw you blush after hearing him say it.

“I’ve been here about five years full time,” you didn’t look up from the box you were meticulously wrapping.

“Well for what it’s worth you’re an excellent sales person,” he said with a grin and he swore you blushed again.

He swiped his card and you walked around the counter to hand him the beautifully wrapped gift in a small black bag. You smiled up at him as he took the bag, “happy holidays Mr….,” you looked at the receipt before handing it to him, “Mr. Storm.”

His fingers brushed yours as he took the gift bag, “Johnny.”

You nodded, “Happy holidays, Johnny,” you said softly.

“You too,” he smiled before exiting back into the New York cold. All he could think about was getting back to that store.

Reader POV

If you didn’t have a crush on him before you definitely did now. The rumors seem to be true; charming, handsome, and apparently he likes to spend thousands of dollars on his sister for christmas too.

You shook your head as you watched the door close behind him. It was a one time interaction, you had one hundred a day, especially during the holidays, so why were you overthinking this one so much?

It was two days later when you spotted the blond hair across the store, you could find it anywhere.

You tried to casually make your way over to him, “Johnny?”

He turned his head quickly, surprised to see you, you swore his eyes lit up.

“Hey- hey! I was actually looking for you,” he stuttered out, clearly caught off guard.

You tilted your head in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

“I got home and I just thought, what’s a necklace without the matching earrings!” He shrugged and said it a bit over enthusiastically.

You laughed, “okay that is something I can definitely help with.”

As you packaged this gift, the conversation drifted to other things. Holiday traditions, your apartment downtown, Johnny's nephew who he spoke very fondly of in the most adorable way.

The pattern repeated itself as you got closer to Christmas, every three days or so Johnny would stop in and buy a gift for his sister.

Once the entire jewelry set had been purchased, ring, earrings, bracelet and all, he moved to the clothing department.

You couldn’t help but find it odd, every few days he would come in looking for you specifically, to spend more money on his older sister.

As Christmas drew closer, you became more tired, but every time Johnny walked in, you would muster up the strength to be the best sales associate you could be, and maybe a little flirtatious while you were at it.

It was officially the day before Christmas Eve. It was late afternoon, sunlight was barely coming through the big front windows at this time of day. Your feet ached, your voice was hoarse from saying “can I help you find anything else?” three hundred times, and all you wanted was a hot cup of coffee and a quiet subway ride home.

Then you saw him again. That familiar blond hair weaving through the crowd, that grin like he knew some private joke that made the world feel warmer.

He caught your eye before you even reached the counter, and you felt that dumb little flutter in your chest that was becoming very difficult to ignore. He gave a small wave.

“Hey,” he said as you approached.

“Hi, Johnny,” you said, trying to keep it professional. “Looking for something specific today?”

He shook his head, just a fraction, eyes honest and a little tired.

You began helping him sift through scarves and matching hats, trying to figure out which colors would look best on Sue.

You aren’t sure how it came up, but celebrating the holidays was your current topic of discussion.

“I honestly usually don’t do much, I maybe spend Christmas Day at a friends, but my family is from out of town and I am usually working tomorrow and the 26th. This is my first year here with Christmas eve off.”

Johnny furrowed his brows, “are you saying you don’t like Christmas?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged, “its not that I don't like it, I just don’t have time to enjoy it, not like I used to I guess.”

“What time do you get off?” he asked without hesitation, leaving you slightly stunned.

“6” you said, answering before he could somehow take it back.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front at 6,” he smiled at you, and before you could say anything else he was leaving the store, leaving you absolutely perplexed.

You stood there for a minute trying to process what just happened. You shook your head and continued folding everything around you again and again, because all you could think about was your potential date with Johnny Storm.

Later that night, after your shift was finally done and you waved goodbye to the coworkers that were unfortunately stuck closing, you stepped out into the crisp air with your coat pulled tight and your scarf snug around your neck. You had partially expected him not to show, maybe it was some sick joke, or maybe he wasn’t being serious, you really didn't know, you just didn’t want to get your hopes up.

But there he was, leaning against a lamppost, two cups in his hand, looking like he belonged in a holiday movie.

“Ready?” he asked with that easy grin.

You nodded, taking the drink from him.

“Hot chocolate,” he said smiling, “I’m going to remind you what Christmas is all about.”

And just like that, the two of you set off into the city.

The sidewalks were crowded with last-minute strollers and shoppers, but it felt like the world had gotten smaller, centered around just the two of you walking side by side.

You didn’t talk much at first, you just shared quiet smiles, watching lights twinkle in shop windows and hearing the hum of the city around you.

Johnny pointed out his favorite decorated storefronts, joking about which had the most ridiculous amount of glitter or the funniest Santas.

You laughed more in those few hours than you had all week.

Somewhere along Fifth Avenue, where the lights were draped on every tree and the wind carried the twinkle of holiday magic, Johnny slowed down.

When you got to the giant tree at Rockefeller, you felt overwhelmed.

“I haven’t seen this in years,” you said softly, admiring the colorful lights.

He smiled at you as you admired the tree, and then sighed, “I have a confession.”

You turned and looked at him, shifting your focus from the tree to him.

“I buy Sue the same bottle of perfume for Christmas every single year,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I actually think she’s going to be upset I didn’t get it this year. But that’s not the point, the moment you smiled at me behind the counter I forgot why I was even there and just wanted to spend as much time as possible with you.”

Your eyes went wide.

“The reason Sue is about to have the best Christmas of her life is because I had a crush on the sales associate on the women’s floor.”

He laughed a little at himself.

“Johnny…” you said softly.

He shook his head, “you don’t have to say anything back, I know it’s crazy. When you said you didn’t enjoy the holiday I just wanted to show you how special it could be, all the stuff you miss while you’re working. I had been working up the courage to ask you out and it just seemed like the perfect opportunity to-“

Before he could finish his sentence your hands were gripping his coat collar and pulling him down to your height for a kiss.

It was simply a peck to shut him up, but it still made your heart skip a beat and heat rush to your face.

“I thought I was going crazy, I was trying so hard to convince myself it was just a coincidence, you coming in all the time,” you confessed, “and uh, thanks for helping me exceed my sales goal this month.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. You smiled, proud that you made him laugh like that, your fingers still holding onto his jacket.

“Now that the cat’s out of the bag, can I take you on a real date?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, and released his coat from your grip, “yes.”

He slid his hand into yours then, intertwining his fingers with yours, you were met with the immediate warmth of his skin, “come on, we’re not done tonight though.”

He pulled you along to continue your Christmas walk, now hand in hand, and all you could think about is how lucky you were to be on a date with a guy like Johnny Storm.

The expectations of you were insanely high, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t thrive off of it.

What you hadn’t adjusted to was Johnny Storm, and you’re not sure you ever will.

Johnny had somehow made it his personal mission to derail your concentration every time he strolled into the lab, whether by leaning over your shoulder to look at your datapad, making jokes at your or Reed's expense, or tossing you that lopsided grin like he had a quota to hit.

He flirted constantly and in response you rejected constantly.

You assumed he was joking. You always assumed he was joking. Johnny Storm flirted with anything that breathed and a few things that technically didn’t. He was literally on the cover of People Magazine for being the hottest bachelor in New York, three years in a row.

So whenever he winked at you, or lounged atop the counter while you recorded spectrometer readings, or told Reed he was “checking on his favorite assistant,” you simply rolled your eyes, made a dry comment, and moved on.

Which was easier than admitting that maybe sometimes your stomach did a weird swoop. But it didn’t matter, you had taught yourself to tuck any feelings, any butterflies, any blush in your cheeks, away.

One night, you were leaving the lab late, way later than you should have been. Reed had gone home hours ago after Sue forcibly escorted him out, and Ben had wandered through muttering something about leftover pizza in the kitchen. You stayed to finish data input because sadly someone had to and that was literally in your job description.

When you stepped into the elevator, you were already mentally planning your shower and how quickly you were going to crawl into bed after it.

Then a hand shot between the doors.

“Hold up!” Johnny squeezed inside, hair tousled, jacket slung over one shoulder, looking maddeningly perfect for someone who didn’t even try. “Well well, fancy meeting you here. You know, if I’d known you were working this late, I would’ve swung by the lab to keep you company.”

“You say that like it would have made things better,” you muttered, pressing the button for the lobby.

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “Your words burn me more than I burn me.”

“Johnny.”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You sighed, before you could respond the elevator hummed to life, descending three floors before a harsh metallic jolt shuddered through the walls.

You froze.

Johnny frowned. “Uh… that’s not normal.”

The lights flickered, then held, but the elevator had definitely stopped moving.

You swallowed. Hard.

No.

No no no no.

Your heart began beating too quickly, too loud, filling your ears with static.

Johnny hit the emergency button. “Hey, control? Elevator B’s stuck. Anyone home?”

A crackling voice answered, “We see the fault. Sit tight, Mr. Storm. Maintenance is on the way.”

Johnny turned around. Grinned. “Guess we’re stuck for a bit.”

But you weren’t listening.

The walls felt closer. The air felt thinner. Your lungs were suddenly too small.

Your claustrophobia wasn’t rational, never had been. It didn’t care that the elevator was well lit. It didn’t care that help was coming. It didn’t care that Johnny Storm was watching you with a slowly dawning realization.

The thing was you never even took elevators, but since you worked on the 48th floor, stairs weren’t exactly an option.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You tried to answer. But when you opened your mouth, what came out was a thin, shaking breath.

You pressed yourself back against the wall, fingers trembling, chest tight.

“Oh. Oh, hell.” Johnny’s voice changed instantly, no teasing, no swagger. “You’re …. Scared? Not a tight spaces girl, I take it.”

You nodded once, jerky, helpless.

“Okay. Okay, I’ve got you.” He moved toward you carefully, like you were a skittish animal that might bolt. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded again, your gaze holding the floor and avoiding his eyes at all costs.

Johnny’s hands settled on your arms, warm, grounding. His face had lost every hint of its usual cocky grin. He looked… worried. Really worried.

“Hey. Look at me.”

You tried, but your vision tunneled.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Breathe with me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. He’d called you a thousand things, but not like that. Not with so much gentleness it nearly undid you. Your breaths came short and shallow, panic spiraling in sharp stabs.

Johnny cupped your face, not flirty, not smug, just steady. “I’m right here. You’re not alone. You’re okay.”

The elevator creaked.

Not much. Just a tiny sound.

But enough.

You broke and a sob tore out of your throat as you practically launched yourself forward, gripping his jacket collar like your life depended on it.

Johnny caught you instantly, wrapping his arms around you with zero hesitation, pressing you against his chest. “Hey—hey—easy. I’ve got you.” His hand slid up to cradle the back of your head. “Just hold on to me.”

You did. You couldn’t not. You buried your face against him as your body trembled.

“Just breathe,” he whispered. “Feel my breathing and match it, okay? In… and out…”

You tried. His warmth helped, the natural heat of him was comforting and constant. Like standing close to a fire on a cold night. He kept one arm around your waist and one hand stroking soothing circles along your spine. His voice stayed low, soft, coaxing you back from the edge.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good.”

Slowly, your breathing eased. Your heart rate steadied. Your fingers loosened their death grip on his shirt.

You didn’t let go entirely, though. And Johnny didn’t ask you to. When you finally lifted your head, his eyes were warm, concerned, and nothing like the flirty mask he always wore.

“Better?” he asked gently.

You nodded, cheeks heating. “Sorry. I—I don’t… like elevators.”

“No kidding.” He smiled softly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blinked. “I scared you?”

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “I hate seeing you freak out. You’re usually so…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Unflappable. Honestly, I thought you were going to shove me into the emergency hatch before you ever grabbed onto me like that.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you. Your hands still held onto his jacket, and his arms were still wrapped around you protectively.

Johnny’s smile widened, but slowly, almost shyly. “There she is.”

Something inside your chest shifted at that. Unexpected. Uncomfortable. Or maybe very comfortable. Your brain replayed the last few minutes, how he’d held you, how careful he’d been, how serious.

You swallowed. “You’re… good at that.”

“At what?”

“Helping.”

He raised a brow, surprised. “I like helping you.”

“You usually like annoying me,” you quipped back.

His grin tilted. “Maybe I flirt so much because I’m trying not to be obvious about the other thing.”

You stared. “What other thing?”

Johnny exhaled a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That I actually like you.”

Your heart thudded.

“Oh,” you said brilliantly.

“Yeah. Oh.” He shrugged weakly. “I know you think I’m messing around, but I’m really not. I just… didn’t want to freak you out.”

“We’re still hugging,” you realized.

He looked down. “We are.”

You started to step back, embarrassed, but his hands tightened just slightly. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and tried to avoid his gaze again.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t have to move if you don’t want to.”

Your face warmed. “I… don’t want to.”

He smiled, slow, gentle, burning in a completely different way than his fire.

“Good,” he whispered.

The elevator jolted again, it was just a small shift as the power briefly hummed back to life. You stiffened, breath catching.

Johnny immediately slid a hand up to cup the side of your head, guiding you back against him. “Hey, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s just a reset. I’m not going anywhere.”

You clung again, trying to keep your breathing steady.

He rubbed your back. “You know, when we get out of here, I’m gonna start leaning way harder into the whole ‘you like me back’ thing.”

“I never said I like you back.”

He glanced down at your arms that were now wrapped around him. “…You sure?”

You let out a shaky exhale. “I didn’t think you meant any of it.”

“Everything I said to you? I meant.” He tipped your chin so you met his eyes. “I just didn’t think you wanted serious.”

“I didn’t think you wanted serious.”

Johnny huffed a laugh. “Well. Joke’s on us.”

You gave him a soft smile, “where were you going this late anyways?” You asked, suddenly realizing the time.

He blushed, “uhhhhh honestly I were you lock up the lab and wanted to flirt with you a little in the elevator, I promise I didn’t plan this though”

You laughed against his chest where you were still laying your cheek.

“I was going to offer to get you home safely, I really had a whole plan,” he shrugged.

Before you could respond, the elevator lights fully brightened and the mechanism shuddered, then began sliding.

Johnny kept you pressed to him the whole time.

When the doors slid open, a tech stood waiting, apologetic. “All fixed. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Johnny nodded, one arm still around your waist. “No problem.”

You tried to step out of his hold, but he leaned in slightly. “Can I walk you out?”

You hesitated.

“Please?” he added softly.

You nodded.

The walk through the lobby was strangely quiet, your head buzzing, and you could feel the exhaustion that comes after an anxiety attack creeping into your bones. But you weren’t tired enough to not notice his fingers brushing yours with each step.

When you reached the doors, he stopped in front of you.

“Hey,” he murmured. “For real… you okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks to you.”

He exhaled in relief. “Good. Anytime you need me—anywhere, any moment—I’m there. No jokes. Promise.”

You looked up at him, studying the sincerity on his face. “Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Ask me out.”

He blinked. “I—what?”

You swallowed your nerves. “If you’re serious. Ask me out.”

His face split into the brightest, warmest smile you’d ever seen on him.

“Oh, I am serious.” He stepped closer. “Go out with me. Tomorrow night.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes.”

Johnny’s grin went incandescent. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Can’t wait.”

You stepped back, heart racing in an entirely different way now.

“See you tomorrow, matchstick.”

His smile could’ve powered the building.

“Count on it, sweetheart.”

“You awake?” he asks, voice low enough not to wake the whole building, “listen. We need to sneak out.”

You sit up. “Sneak out?”

“Come on, live a little,” he whined.

“Johnny, you’re acting like we’re 15 and sneaking out for a party, I’m in pajamas and I have work in the morning.”

He groaned, “It’s 10:30, Scoops is open until midnight. If we leave now and take a nice leisurely stroll, we’ll make it, and you’ll be thanking me that we did.”

You looked at him and contemplated, “ugh, alright.”

Johnny jumped up in joy like a child. The truth is you could never say no to icecream or Johnny. So, even though you had to be up early for work tomorrow, you gave in. You got up and threw a sweater over your pajama shirt, hoping no one would notice your outfit. The Baxter Building was silent, as it typically was this time of night in the middle of the week. Ben having a strict bed time routine, and Reed and Sue getting sleep while Franklin was down. Johnny took your hand, and you both tip-toed past Reed and Sue’s door, calling the elevator.

You would be annoyed if it weren’t for the grin on your boyfriend's face as you waited for the elevator. He looked like he had just won the lottery, and all you did was agree to ice cream. You walked hand in hand in comfortable science to your favorite ice cream shop. The city hummed quietly around you, quieter than usual because of the time of night.

You found this time peaceful, walking on the sidewalks, nearly pressed against Johnny’s warm side, a stark contrast compared to the cool night air. The cars hummed by, lights were dim in the buildings around you and there was quiet chatter in the distance, exactly how you liked the city.

When you arrived at Scoops, you were greeted by two teenagers in their matching Scoops caps, their smiles immediately changed to shock when Johnny walked up.

“Holy shit. You're the human torch” the boy said, making you giggle, “and you're the Mrs human torch, when Jeff said you came here, we didn’t believe him” he added, making you and Johnny laugh at the nickname the press had given you and their disbelief.

“What can we get you, anything, it’s on us,” the girl next to him added, excitedly.

Johnny ordered for the both of you, knowing your ice cream order by heart, making you smile. He left money on the counter, even though the teens refused to charge you. Now, both of you, cones in hand, started your journey back.

Johnny tugged you away from the direction of the Baxter Building, “lets take the long way,” he said mischievously, taking you in the direction of the park. You didn’t put up a fight, because although it was getting late, you felt content walking side by side and you didn’t want this night to end just yet.

Johnny holds up his cone between you two. “See this scoop? Definitely bigger than yours.” He angles it, eyes dancing with mischief.

You glance at his, then yours. “If by ‘bigger’ you mean ‘more likely to drip everywhere’, then yeah, you win.”

He shrugs, triumphant. “I accept my victory.”

You reach the park. A bench beneath an old oak tree, its leaves whispering in the breeze overhead. Dim street lights lit up the path and all you could hear was the rustling of the leaves around you. As you both sit on the bench your hands are quickly becoming coated in ice cream as it melts.

Johnny looks at you, then the melting ice cream in your hand, and then back at you. He leans over and takes an obnoxious bite out of your cone, making your jaw drop. Then he sticks his finger in his own icecream, and smears it on your cheek.

You gasp at the cold sensation, “oh someone feels like fighting tonight, is that it?” You ask, making him laugh. And god his laugh, that crackling, warm laugh. He gently wipes the smear away with his thumb, eyes tracing the line of your cheek.

His hand lingers in yours, your fingers entwined; he rests his free arm behind you on the bench back lazily. The night is still, with city lights shimmering off a distant river, the moon high and soft. Johnny leans close, his voice low: “Honestly…” he says, his voice husky, “you taste better than the ice cream.”

You laugh, your heart doing that goofy fluttering thing. Every nerve is alive. Without thinking, you lean in. His breath mingles with yours. Warmth, sweetness — not just of the melting cone, but something more electric. You kiss him sweetly and softly, both of you smiling.

Under the glow of the streetlamp and the stars, he brushes your hair back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. No urgency, no escape — just this moment, quiet, yours. You squeeze his hand, and together you stay a little longer under the oak, two souls stitched together in moonlight and melting sugar, knowing this late‑night caper will be a memory you’ll return to whenever the world feels too fast.

“Shit,” you cursed and started to free yourself from the sheets. You looked around for your clothes and items you had disposed of carelessly around the room the night before.

“Babe?” Johnny groggily sat up in bed and looked at you.

“My alarm didn’t go off,” you said, still looking around the room. “Everyone will be awake by now. I have to try and sneak out of here,” you said, slipping on your F4 crewneck Reed had given you when you joined the team as their assistant, so that you could match the rest of the team. You were in charge taking care of anything and everything they needed not related to science.

“I turned your alarm off. You needed to sleep,” Johnny stated simply, as if he didn’t just become the reason the team would spot you sneaking out of his room.

You stopped mid-jump into your jeans from yesterday. “Johnny—why would you do that?” you said, gesturing your hands dramatically toward him while whisper-yelling, “The whole team could see me and find out about us.”

“So what if they did?” he asked the question like it was as simple as that.

“Johnny, we’ve talked about this. We’ve only been official for, what, four months?”

“131 days,” he stated confidently. “And I think we should tell them.” He put his hands behind his head and sat up, leaning against the headboard, bare torso exposed.

You finally zipped up your pants from the day before, no time to figure an outfit out, and walked over to him. You smiled softly, noting that he had the exact day count since your relationship became official, and you sat down next to him, staring at his chiseled body.

“Like what you see?” he asked smugly, reaching out and pulling you into him for a kiss.

You pulled away and rolled your eyes in response. “Let me just think about it, okay? But now I seriously have to go tiptoe out of here and get to work.” You leaned in and kissed him again before making your move to the door.

“Hey,” he called out. You turned and faced him before reaching for the doorknob. “I love you,” he said with a grin.

You immediately smiled in response. “I love you,” you said before slipping out of the door quietly.

Johnny had told you he loved you exactly nine days ago, and he says it any chance he gets—and it makes your stomach flip every single time.

You successfully made it to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and to your office setup—consisting of a desk in Reed’s lab—without running into any of the super-enhanced individuals and their toddler. You considered it a success, even if you looked like you just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning!” Sue said, walking in the lab doors. You were facing away from her, writing down your to-dos at your desk for the day.

“Rough night?” she asked with a smirk.

You knew you looked worse than your usual put-together demeanor, but didn’t know you looked bad enough to warrant that question.

“Just a little tired. Overslept,” you stated, not even looking up from your notebook.

She hummed in response and walked by you with Franklin in her arms.

Your thoughts began to wander as you mindlessly filled in your long list of to-dos: call the news channel to reschedule Reed’s interview, order new beakers for Reed, source the fireproof material used for Johnny’s suits, etc.…

But all you could think about was why you were so hesitant to tell the rest of the team about your relationship with Johnny.

He was perfect in your eyes. When you first started with the team, you found yourself rolling your eyes every time he spoke. He was smug, a womanizer, and overly flirtatious with anything that walked. But as you got to know him, you realized it was, in fact, an act. He was kind, caring, soft, amazing in bed, and always remembered the little things: how you liked your coffee, how your eye started to twitch when you were stressed, the way you got excited whenever Franklin came to you for a hug. You both slowly grew to like each other—and now love each other.

Early on, neither of you told anyone because you weren’t sure where things were going. But now, it was serious. You were in love. The big L-O-V-E.

You were tapping your foot when Ben stomped in, making you lose your train of thought.

“Woah, not in your usual work attire, I see,” he exclaimed as he walked in the lab with food for everyone, HERBIE zooming in next to him, beeping.

Odd comment, you thought. This wasn’t your first time dressing down in front of them.

“Yeah, she ‘overslept,’” Sue responded for you, smirking at Ben. Ben walked over and placed the food in front of her and Franklin. They were giving each other eyes, but you chose to ignore them both, continuing your to-do list: find new custom T-shirts for Ben that won’t rip, order Franklin’s booster seat, etc.…

You thought it was best to keep it a secret, and it was nice that it stayed that way—something for just you two. Your relationship was something sacred, and it was fun at first. No sly comments from Ben and Sue—just you two.

But when other girls flirted with him at events and press briefings, and you couldn’t reach out and grab his hand to show them he was yours, it bothered you. When you couldn't hug him in the kitchen with everyone around simply just because, it made your chest ache. When he was injured after a particularly tough fight, you couldn’t grab his face and kiss him to let him know everything would be okay and that you were there.

So, maybe it was time for everyone to know.

Your thoughts were interrupted again by Reed entering the lab, “Mornin” he said, not even looking up from his book. He walked around the big orange couch where Sue and Ben sat whispering, to his chalkboard. Preparing for the morning debrief, he said his hellos to the family and started writing.

You had mentally decided your sacred secret would be found out tonight after you talked to Johnny. Just as you finished your to-do list and made up your mind, Johnny sauntered into the lab.

“Morning, FAM!” he nearly shouted as he continued making his way to the couch.

You placed your pen down and sipped your coffee. You didn’t look toward Johnny as he stopped right at your desk. You grabbed your notebook and pen to bring to the couch for the debrief. He was grinning at you as you glanced up at him. Then you saw Ben and Sue staring at you from the corner of your eye.

“Morning, Johnny,” you said sweetly, confused as to why he was acting like this. He continued to grin at you, and you furrowed your brows at him, silently asking him why.

“That is not your sweater, sweetheart.”

He stood in front of you, still smiling, and your mouth opened in shock. You looked up and saw Ben and Sue trying to hide their laughs.

“What’s going on?” Reed asked cluelessly.

“Someone grabbed the wrong sweatshirt when they snuck out of Johnny’s room, it seems…” Sue said, raising a brow, still laughing with Ben.

You turned back to Johnny, still standing next to you and smiling at your desk, and your cheeks turned bright red. You ran to the side of the lab and contorted yourself so you could see the back of the grey crewneck in the big mirror.

J. STORM

It said across your shoulders. Your blush grew deeper, and you looked at Johnny again—this time for help—but he smirked and made his way to the couch. You hung your head low and followed him.

“So, you’re sleeping together. No one cares, just keep it professional,” Reed said simply, not looking away from the chalkboard.

You and Johnny looked at each other again, standing in front of the whole team.

“Not exactly…” He grabbed your waist for support. You squeezed his side, as if silently letting him know to continue. “We’ve kind of been dating for about… 131 days,” he said, and you rolled your eyes at his exact number.

“Sue! You owe me $30. Looks like I know your brother better than you do,” Ben said, throwing both his arms up in victory.

Sue rolled her eyes and placed Franklin in her lap as he was babbling to his toys.

“You were betting on us?” you said, shocked. Ben and Sue nodded.

“We’ve noticed you two dancing around each other forever. It was honestly comical—the silent stares, the little touching when you thought no one was looking. Bleh. But Sue didn’t think Johnny would have the balls to actually make a move and be serious. I know my best friend, though.” Ben raised his hand, and Johnny high-fived him with his free hand. You leaned into him more, and he placed a kiss on your forehead, still smiling brightly. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad he did make a move though. You have both seemed lighter the last few months,” Sue said.

“You mean, 131 days,” Ben corrected, causing both you and Sue to roll your eyes at him.

“Alright, let's get back to work, shall we?” Reed said, uninterested in the bets and gossip occurring behind him.

You and Johnny both sat down, this time a little closer together than you normally would have, and the debrief carried on as normal. Except now, you felt the weight of the secret off your chest, and relief that you could finally act like Johnny’s girlfriend.

The day carried on as usual: you made your phone calls, ran your errands, and set up all necessary appointments that were on your to-do list.

When the workday ended, you made your way to Johnny’s room—but this time, you weren’t creeping down hallways and checking doorways for team members. You simply walked to your boyfriend’s room.

When you got there, you let yourself in and saw Johnny sitting in his chair, looking out the window with his headphones on. You snuck up behind him and quickly removed his headphones, causing him to jump.

The second he saw you, his eyes softened, and he smiled like a lovesick puppy.

“Hey, you,” you said softly with a smile.

He pulled you into his lap so you were sitting with your legs across his, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you softly and smiled down at you.

“So everyone knows. Cat is out of the bag, my love” he said warmly.

“You know, after this morning, I had made the executive decision we were going to sit everyone down and come clean,” you confessed. “But it seems I took care of that part for us this morning—when I got dressed in the dark.”

He laughed at that and hung his head back. God, you wanted to hear him laugh forever.

“Well, now you can keep that sweater and wear it whenever your heart desires,” he said, rubbing circles on your hip where his hand rested.

You leaned into him and closed your eyes, feeling at peace.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he whispered back.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

You were not listening. Your gaze flicked back to Steve before you could stop yourself. He looked different when he talked about the future. It hurt in a way you didn’t quite have words for.

You didn’t have a problem with Nancy. That was the worst part. You admired her, honestly. The way she never backed down, the way fear didn’t stop her from doing the right thing. She was brave and kind, and she had never once given you a reason to doubt her intentions. If anything, she had always treated you with respect, like she knew exactly where you stood.

And still, there was this small, ugly part of you that envied her.

Because when Steve talked about the future, his voice carried a familiarity that scared you. Like those dreams had been shaped long before you ever fit into his life. Like you were standing on the edge of something that already had a name, a shape, a person attached to it.

You pressed your nails into your palm and forced your eyes back to Robin who kept going like she could out-talk the end of the world if she tried.

“And also the timing,” she said. “Because if Kate Bush is even, like, one second off— boom. Bad. Very bad. No more Max. So, no pressure or anything.”

You nodded again.

It was almost funny, really. Robin had been the reason you and Steve even existed in the first place. She liked to take credit for it too, in that very Robin way, as if she’d personally aligned the stars.

She had introduced you with a casualness that felt intentional in hindsight, dragging Steve into conversations you were already in, finding excuses to pair you off on supply runs.

She had told you, more than once, that whatever had been between Steve and Nancy was done. Over. Ancient history. “Capital M moved on,” she’d said, very confidently. You’d smiled and nodded and absolutely not believed her.

You hadn’t asked him out because of it. Hadn’t even let yourself think about it too hard. You told yourself it was respect, that you didn’t want to step into something unfinished, that you refused to be the girl who ignored a history that big. Mostly, though, you were just scared of wanting something that wasn’t really yours to have.

So when Steve had walked up to you one afternoon, shuffling his feet like he suddenly forgot how legs worked, you’d been caught completely off guard.

He hadn’t been smooth about it. He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced anywhere but your face, and said your name like it was a question and he wasn't sure he knew the right answer. Then, in a rush, he asked if you maybe wanted to get ice cream sometime. Or food. Or just hang out. Like, on a date.

You remembered the way he blinked when you said yes.

Not the easy grin you expected, or the confident Steve Harrington smile everyone knew, but wide-eyed shock, like he hadn’t actually considered the possibility you’d agree. You’d laughed before you could stop yourself, and he’d laughed too.

“Wait, really?” he’d said.

You were pretty sure he’d been more surprised than happy in that moment, and somehow that had made it better.

The memory faded just as you glanced up, and for a split second, everything lined up wrong and right all at once. Steve was already looking at you.

You smiled before you could stop yourself.

His shoulders loosened. His mouth tipped into that soft, almost dopey smile he never seemed to have control over around you. He looked like he’d forgotten where he was, like the noise and the fear and the plan had all slipped out of his head at once.

Then the RV swerved.

“Steve!” Nancy shouted, lunging forward as the wheel jerked under his hands.

The whole vehicle lurched, everyone in the back yelling at once. Robin and Erica grabbed onto the nearest surface, Max swore and Lucas held her, Dustin and Eddie’s voice rose an octave. Steve snapped back to reality with a startled sound, fumbling with the wheel just long enough for Nancy to shove him aside and steady it.

“What the hell, Steve?” she shouted, eyes locked on the road.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he said quickly, hands up in surrender. “Everyone relax. It was, like, half a second.”

“That was not half a second!” Robin yelled. “That was a full ‘we almost died’ second.”

Steve shot a look over his shoulder. “Okay, but we didn’t die, did we?”

You couldn’t help it. You grinned, biting down on it too late to hide it. Steve glanced back at you again, sheepish now, cheeks pink, like he knew exactly why it had happened and couldn’t even pretend otherwise.

He mouthed sorry without sound, smiling anyway, and your chest warmed despite the fear.

Eddie and Dustin abandoned their seats a moment later, shuffling forward and dropping down behind you and Robin. You turned around at the same time Robin did.

Before you could say anything, you caught Max and Lucas a few rows back, heads bent together, their voices low. Max glanced up and met your eyes. You offered her a small smile and a quick wave. She returned it and you turned back around.

“So,” you said, resting an arm along the back of the seat. “What’s up?”

Dustin stared at you like you’d personally offended him. “What’s up?” he repeated. “Your boyfriend almost killed us all, and that’s what you ask?”

Robin nodded seriously beside you. “Yeah, maybe don’t smile at him for a while. For the sake of everyone’s continued existence.”

Eddie leaned in. “He swerved because you smiled at him?”

You blinked once and then shrugged. “Yeah. He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

“No, idiot. That’s what we call him.”

Dustin pointed between Eddie and himself. “Smile at us. You won’t see us swerving off the road.”

You raised an eyebrow, then gave them a smile just to prove a point.

Eddie squinted. “Yeah, no. You’re cute. That’s unfair.”

You grinned wider, unapologetic.

“Would you stop it?” Dustin said, throwing his hands up. “We’re trying to make a very serious safety argument here.”

Robin snorted. “I don’t know, Dust. I think the data supports the theory that not only Steve Harrington is this whipped and compromised.”

“But,” Eddie said. “he's the only one who's got the structural integrity of wet cardboard.”

You laughed softly.

Then Nancy’s voice cut through the noise. “Hey, you.”

You looked up to see her already unbuckling her seatbelt, gesturing toward the front. “Your shift.”

“Oh,” you said. You nodded quickly, pushing yourself up. “Yeah. Okay.”

You slid into Nancy’s seat and turned to look at your boyfriend.

He was already smiling at you, that soft, helpless one, which told you he hadn’t learned his lesson at all.

“I wish it was your shift forever,” he said, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You smiled, hands finding the wheel. “Careful. You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted with that.”

He laughed under his breath, then tilted his head. “So. How do you feel after almost killing everyone with your smile?”

You pretended to think about it, lips pursed. “Honestly? Very proud of myself.”

“Unbelievable. I risk my life every day for this group and you’re the real threat.”

“You love it,” you said.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I really do.”

The words felt more like a confession. Your grip tightened on the wheel for half a second.

He nudged your arm with his elbow. “Hey. You good?”

You nodded, glancing at him briefly. “Yeah. Just. . . you know. Trying not to crash the RV.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re doing great.”

The praise warmed you more than it should have. You rolled your eyes to hide it. “Don’t get all sweet on me now.”

He grinned. “What? I can’t compliment my girlfriend?”

The word still felt new sometimes. You smiled anyway. “You can. Just maybe wait until we’re not driving.”

Steve hummed. “No promises.”

You focused on the road, but you could feel him watching you.

“So, uh,” you started, voice casual in a way that absolutely fooled no one. “I kind of heard what you were saying earlier. About your dream.”

There was a beat of silence.

Steve’s laugh came out awkward and rushed. “You did?”

You nodded, fingers tightening slightly on the wheel. “Yeah. Not on purpose. I was trying to listen to Robin do her whole end-of-the-world podcast, but. . . you weren’t exactly quiet.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. That’s— wow. That’s embarrassing.”

You glanced at him then. His ears were pink, eyes darting everywhere but your face, suddenly very interested in the cracked dashboard. It was strangely comforting, seeing him like this.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you said quickly. “It’s a good dream. It’s. . . really you.”

He risked a look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. Then, after a pause, you added, “I just didn’t know you still carried it around like that.”

Steve swallowed. He shifted in his seat, shoulders rounding in on themselves a little. “We haven’t really talked about that stuff,” he said. “You and me, I mean. I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You let out a small breath. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I know that now,” he said. “But I didn’t before.”

“It just. . . hurt a little,” you admitted. “Not the dream itself. Just that you talked about it with her before you ever talked about it with me.”

Steve turned fully toward you then. “Hey,” he said gently. “I wasn’t talking to Nancy because it was her. It was just. . . familiar.”

You nodded, even though your chest still ached. “I get that. I really do. I just didn’t want to feel like I was finding out who you are secondhand.”

“You’re not,” he said immediately. “I swear. You’re not second to anything.”

You risked another glance at him. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He huffed out a nervous laugh. “Because saying it out loud to you makes it real. And I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Something warm curled in your stomach at that, easing the sting.

“You could’ve told me,” you said. “I would’ve listened.”

“I want to tell you now,” he said. “If you want to hear it.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

Steve took a breath like he was bracing himself, then let it out slow.

“I always thought,” he began, eyes fixed on the road ahead even though you were the one driving, “that I’d have this really big family someday. Like. . . really big.”

You smiled to yourself, heart already thudding a little faster. “Big how?”

He glanced at you, a little shy. “I mean, a full brood of Harringtons. Five. Six kids.”

You laughed softly. “Six little nuggets?”

His face lit up instantly. “Exactly. See, you get it.”

“I always imagined three girls, three boys,” he said. “No idea why. It just felt right.” He scratched the back of his neck. “And every summer, we’d pack everyone into something like this. An RV. Just. . . driving.”

“We’d see the Rockies,” he continued. “The Grand Canyon. Maybe Yellowstone. Just stop wherever looked cool.” He smiled faintly. “And then we’d end up somewhere in California. Some beach town. Park right on the sand.”

You couldn’t help it. “You’d definitely burn on the first day.”

He scoffed. “Hey. I’d learn. For our kids.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, but only if they make too fun of you for it.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “And we’d stay there for a week. Maybe learn how to surf. Or at least try.”

You imagined it without trying. Steve surrounded by kids, sunburned and smiling.

“What about me?” you asked.

He turned to you fully this time. “You’re there,” he said immediately. “You’re. . . kind of the whole point.”

Your throat tightened.

“I always thought I’d be bad at that stuff,” he admitted. “The future. But when I think about it now, it’s you making lists and me losing them. You calling shotgun even though you’re driving. You telling me six kids is insane and then naming them anyway.”

You laughed, eyes stinging. “I’d absolutely insist on a dog.”

“Two,” he corrected. “Minimum.”

“Deal,” you said quickly. “And the RV has to stop for snacks. Constantly.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t survive otherwise.”

Steve reached over and squeezed your knee gently. “I don’t need it to look exactly like that,” he said. “I just want it to be with you.”

You smiled, eyes back on the road, heart full in a way that scared you a little. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I’d like that future.”

“I was just going to say that-” you tried to continue, but Robin wasn’t having it. 

“If you were going to say that he has been mopey and pouty all day because you picked up an extra shift before you remembered that you were supposed to go to the movies this weekend then by all means, please continue! But otherwise, your excuses are not welcome here.” 

The door to the backroom slammed open, the loud thud echoing through the mostly empty store, making you jump. Robin’s eyebrows shot up as she gestured meaningfully towards the sound. You only had a second to think ‘okay, maybe he is in a bad mood’ before a pair of strong, sure arms wind around your middle. Steve’s cologne combined with the smell of his hair products washed over you, quieting the thumping in your chest you hadn’t even noticed until he took it away. Steve’s chin slotted easily into the space between your head and shoulders. “Hi, honey.” 

His voice was syrupy sweet and managed to send a shiver down your spine. You tried for a moment to hold the grin at bay, but ultimately decided to give in. “Stevie, Robs told me you’ve been a sourpuss today.” You were shooting for a chiding tone, but adoration has managed to seep in. 

“I said he was being a whiny bitch,” Robin grumbled, grabbing a stack of movies from the return bin and half stomping to the kids section. 

Your hand finds the back of Steve’s head, scratching at the crown of his head. He practically purred, nose digging into the space where your neck met your shoulder. “What’s with the grumpy gills?” You asked, your voice soft. 

“Missed you,” Steve’s breath tickled, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled you impossibly closer, always eager for more. 

“I’m not hearing you deny it, love bug.” You could feel him smiling against your skin. You and Steve had been touchy-feely friends before, but after you admitted your mutual head over heels situation, well. Saying that it had gotten worse felt like the wrong word. In all honesty, Steve seemed determined to crawl into your skin and you didn’t have much of a mind to stop him from making a home there. 

Steve shrugged against your back, leaning his head back into your touch. “Is it such a crime to miss my girl?” 

A zing shot through your stomach. Another very welcome change. Steve had developed an affinity for nicknames to rival your own. There was just one difference. He wasn’t as generous as you, though. All of his sweet names belong to one person. 

“Crime to be mean to your friends, if I remember correctly.” Steve slunk around to face you, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips. He was pouting, bottom lip jutting out slightly and eyebrows all scrunched together. To you? Adorable. But you were surprised Robin hadn’t bludgeoned him and stuffed him in a closet somewhere. 

You smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows, thinking to yourself that it didn’t look at home on his face. Steve caught your hand, and gently uncurled your fingers before dropping a kiss on your palm. Your heart stuttered in your chest, ever the traitor. 

“Sorry, honey.” Your eyebrows raised in a way that you hoped said ‘not the one you should be apologize to’. You could tell that he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes by the way his tongue poked angrily at the inside of his cheek. A tiny tilt of your head was all it took. Steve’s hands were over your ears seconds before he shouted “Sorry Robin!” in her general direction.

Robin’s “yeah, whatever dingus” was muffled by Steve’s emergency earmuffs.

You grinned up at him, gently moving his hands away from your ears. “I love you.” The words were barely a whisper but Steve was grinning so hard you’d have thought you’d been shouting it from the rooftops. 

“Saved something for you,” he whispered, nose practically brushing yours. “It’s in the back room, still.” 

“Did you guys finally get Clue back?” You’d stopped in several times looking for it, but the last person who checked it out was either a big fan of Tim Curry or avoiding the fees that come with a lost tape. Steve had promised that he would save it for you if it eventually came in. When you mentioned that it would be nice to not have to trek across town to check on it, you could practically see the moment Steve realized that meant seeing less of you while he was trapped at work. “I mean, wouldn’t hurt to stop by and check. Just in case, you know?” You’d laughed, squishing his cheeks and pecking the tip of his nose before promising not to abandon him. 

Steve grabbed your hand, all but dragging you to the back room. “Guess you’ll have to come see.” After a few steps, your gaze caught on the bold STAFF ONLY sign prominently displayed in the middle of the door. A couple of years of dealing with the Upside Down had cured your aversion to rule breaking, but you hesitated to do anything that could get your friends in trouble, especially when Hawkins didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. Keith loved to trap any employee, but particularly Steve, with a long lecture right when their shift was ending, and you weren’t interested in adding to your grumpy Steve tally. “Stevie, I don't think-” 

Steve’s hand tightened around yours confidently, and if that wasn’t enough, his blinding smile was enough to erase your hesitation in one fell swoop. Steve tugged you through the door, guiding you around piles of cardboard boxes and managed to catch a cardboard cutout of Arnold Schwarzenegger before it could fall on you.  

Steve’s hands settled on your waist, guiding you back easily to take a seat on the desk. One of his knees parted yours, and he slotted himself against you, a sigh escaping him at the feeling of your hands in his. You glanced around the room, eyes searching for whatever it was Steve had put aside for you. There were no loose tapes on the desk. Sometimes he would save you a poster if one of your favorites was about to get tossed, but there was no sign of that either. 

You were moments from questioning him about it when his lips found yours. You gasped for a moment, before his nose bumped yours and he did that thing with his tongue that made your brain fuzz out for a second. 

You were lost in Steve for a few moments, grateful for the familiar feel of his arms around you and the sweet way he tilted your head into the right position. A clatter from the front room broke your concentration. 

“Stevie!” you squeaked, losing the motivation to push him away halfway through the action. 

“Yeah?” his voice was noticeably deeper, his hair a bit ruffled with a light pink dusting across his cheeks. This was one of your favorite versions of Steve. He calls it love drunk, and when you think back on the few times that you have convinced him to let you be the responsible at a party, you think he has a point. The similarities were staggering.

“You- you’re at work.” you halfheartedly gestured around you, noting Robin’s bag slung over the chair and the calendar with everyone’s schedule that was now hanging crookedly over the desk. Whoops. 

“I know, it’s awful.” He groaned, dragging out the words before beaming and making another move to catch your lips with his own. You turned your head at the last second, taking measured breaths. If Steve was confused by your change in positions, there was no indication. He traced a line of kisses from your cheek to behind your ear, perfectly content with his new task. 

“Don’t you think-” you tried.

“Not really thinking right now, angel.” 

“But Robs probably-” He was determined.

“Please don’t bring up my best friend right now.” he mumbled, moving down your neck and finding the spot there that always managed to turn your heart and stomach into a trapeze double act. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. A full body shaking, breathless, head thrown back laugh. A laugh that Steve had a particular talent for drawing out of you, on purpose or not. It was enough for him to pause his mission, trading it in for memorizing the sound. He smiled down at you like a comet, blazing bright and blessed enough to be pulled into your orbit. 

“What?” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes searching yours. 

“Nothing, I just like you.” you managed through the peals of laughter, your voice breezy and light.   

“Yeah?” Steve asked, breathlessly. 

You rolled your eyes, all malice absent from the gesture. “Yeah, dummy.” 

His hands found yours, still pressed against his chest. He had the audacity to look bashful, after dragging you into the backroom and practically attacking your neck. “Think I prefer Stevie,” he said, his words thick with fondness. 

You reclaimed one of your hands, brushing a bit of his hair off his forehead. Before you could think of a response, someone began pounding on the door to the back room. You squeaked, and Steve whipped around, one arm blocking you and the other raised defensively. 

“I thought you were going to be a good influence on him!” Robin yelled, effectively breaking the tension that had settled over the both of you. Your forehead met Steve’s back, and the arm that had been blocking you dropped, his hand settling on your thigh. 

“She made no such promises!” he yelled back. 

He turned, not an ounce of regret in his sparkling eyes. Steve offered you a hand, helping you down off the desk that was definitely way too high off the ground and you certainly needed his assistance with such a drop. Good to know that chivalry wasn’t dead, even in dusty break rooms. 

Steve bowed jokingly and let you pass him, leading the way to the door. He grabbed the handle before you could even stretch your fingers towards it, pulling it open and ushering you out underneath his arm. You made it all of three steps before Steve’s arm was around your waist again. Your steps didn’t stutter, used to him pulling you into his side while in motion. He kept you tucked tightly into his side, fingers splayed wide on your waist. 

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “I really like you too, honey.” With anyone else, you would take the words at face value, but Steve had a way of helping you hear what’s underneath. A ‘thank you for coming to see me at work’ was tucked beside ‘sorry Robin ruined our moment’ and layered overtop was one of his favorites, ‘I’m so lucky to have you’. But most of all, you knew without a doubt, as sure as the sun in the sky, that he loved you. 

“Love you,” he whispered, kissing the side of your head one more time, and ignoring Robin pretending to gag before shoving a pile of tapes into his hands.