after graduation, you did your best to avoid steve at all costs. not that he would notice or care, but rather for your sake. it was embarrassing to recall the amount of times you had imagined him choosing staying at your house over a party, or fantasized about running your fingers through his hair. it was your character flaw that you decided to ignore and actively suppress. steve was an asshole, and you recognized that. thus, the active forgetting of steve harrington.

 the plan to gradually forget about your schoolgirl feelings for steve had been working, working really well. you’d stopped obsessing over that one time he had accidentally bumped your shoulder in the hallway (and walked away without apologizing, thank you very much), and you couldn’t even remember what color his eyes were. then robin sauntered into your house with her spare key and an unperturbed way about her, proclaiming she landed the mall job and “y/n, you’d never believe who my co-worker is.” and then the humiliation that came with liking steve came rushing back.

 did you resent steve? not at all. but at certain points, when you were at your lowest, you wished he could feel as lowly and unimportant as him and his adolescent goons had made you feel. sometimes, though you would never admit it, you wished steve harrington would pine after you, simply so you could brush him off and crush his pretty boy heart as he had crushed yours in high school. but thoughts like that made you feel bad, and were definitely not feasible. the only time nowadays that you had a vague hatred towards steve was when robin went to work. screw him for winning over your best friend too. 

“go to work, buckley. when you come home, i’ll be here, in this spot, borderline comatose. wake me up then.” you turned to your side and closed your eyes.

“maybe you could come see me at work, y/n! i’m sure my parents would much prefer that, rather than you lounging in my house all day.”

 “mmm, they love me,” you replied, already slipping back into a half-asleep state.

 ------------------------

“y/n!” robin exclaimed. “wait, is that my shirt?” you stalked into scoops ahoy, dark circles under your eyes. you had awoken after another 3 hours of sleep, and after 30 another minutes of being alone in robin’s house, you decided to finally bite the bullet and visit her at work. there was no motivation besides boredom, loneliness, and the hope that robin’s offers of free ice cream when trying to coax you to come still stood. 

“i’m exhausted. can i get a vanilla cone?”

 “i don’t see you opening your wallet to pay, y/n,” she said, her motions towards the freezer contradicting her words. she scooped a cone for you and one for herself, and you guys chuckled at how quick robin was to shell out ice cream that would probably come from her paycheck. leaning against the counter, you reveled in the silence that settled as you ate your ice cream. you cherished these moments with robin, where you guys could just enjoy each other’s presence, words unnecessary. for as much as the two of you talked, they didn’t occur often, but when they did, they were peaceful. 

robin and you both were enjoying the serenity of the moment, and then there was steve. loud, doors swinging, calling (or shouting, rather) for robin. instantly, you were on edge, and robin sensed it. she was aware of your past feelings towards steve, but unaware of how vast and intensely they spread. she was there when you’d comment quietly to her how nice he looked in his jeans, but absent for the doodling of “harrington” in hearts on the margins of your papers. 

seeing steve was a gust of wind in your hair and a suckerpunch to your gut, simultaneously. rigid, ice cream dripping down your hand, you turned to robin, who, despite being engaged in a conversation with steve about their break schedules, was subtly keeping an eye on you, making sure you were okay. “uh, robin?” both heads turned towards you, the first time steve had acknowledged you. the “ahoy” on their sailor hats was so aggressively there and ugly, it only served to make you more anxious. 

“is this…?” steve gave robin a look as if to communicate something to her, something secret, and you knew immediately what---or who, rather---he was referencing. stacey.  he thought you were stacey. stacey was robin’s beau, who you had listened robin talk about, cry about, gush about, for weeks. you felt blessed, as robin’s best friend, to be able to coach her through her first relationship, which you understood must be extra difficult as a closeted gay woman. robin never had any shortage of stacey related topics to talk about, and you were glad to serve as a sounding board. you’d always just assumed you were the only one robin could bounce her thoughts off of, especially because of her sexuality.

 steve thought you were stacey. which means...steve knew robin’s best kept secret. of course steve knew. robin had been preaching about how great and un-assholey he’d become since graduation, something that would only be tested and tried by robin’s candid confession of who she loved. you felt stupid for not having figured it out earlier. steve knew.

 “no, harrington,” you piped up, finally regaining your ability to speak for the first time since steve had kicked open the door to the Scoops backroom. “my name’s y/n, and we actually went to high school together. i’d say i’m surprised you don’t remember me, but you were an asshole back then, so….” you let your voice trail off, expecting a snarky remark back from the boy in front of you. steve knew. 

the only person behind the counter to pipe up was robin. “steve, this is y/n, my best friend, who is acting, surprisingly, much like one of those assholes she constantly proclaims to hate.” although she was addressing steve, her eyes were locked with yours. there was a jovial tone to her voice, she was clearly not upset with you, but you tilted your chin out in defiance, and tossed the remainder of the ice cream cone away. steve knew. he was quiet. “y/n,” robin began, her voice calm, “i’ll meet you at the Gap on my break. 2:45. go cool off, please?” you took a peek at your casio calculator watch. you had 45 minutes to kill. you gave her a curt nod, and completely disregarded silent steve as you walked out of the ice cream parlor. what had just happened? 

no, you didn’t mean to completely be a dick. it was hard to dissect your feelings. it certainly wasn’t fair for you to be upset that robin told steve her secret. you were proud she felt safe enough to share that important part of herself with him. if anything, you were more upset that of all the people in Hawkins, she chose your self-proclaimed, one-sided enemy.  but still, unfair. and...you sighed. steve hadn’t even said anything to you. could you blame him? he didn’t remember you, y/n, get over it, you thought. how long were you going to let your internal struggle with steve dictate your actions? especially now that there was a chance at a...mutual friendship of sorts, through robin. had you not fucked that up by the scene you’d just caused.

 seeing steve dredged up a lot of negative emotions, you realized. it was embarrassing, especially because everything you and steve “had” was fabricated in your brain. one sided, imaginary, call it what you want. and yet, here you were, harboring real, genuine hurt. at what point does an adult let go of these childish fantasies and quit playing the victim? had you only hurt steve’s feelings (which you weren’t entirely sure you did, seeing as he was just so quiet), maybe you wouldn’t have had the mindset shift, but you could tell robin was upset with your petulant behavior. and quite frankly, you were tired of holding on to high school. you turned on your heel, chuck taylors squeaking against the shiny mall floor, and walked back to scoops ahoy.

 the parlor was empty. no one lounging at the tables, cheerily eating a sundae. you assumed this was why steve and robin were huddled in the back room, having a hushed conversation that you could only hear remnants of. you chose to ignore steve yet again, but this time simply to give you the guts to ring the service bell repeatedly. if you pretended only robin could answer, it was easier to be annoying. she was used to you. so, with a heavy hand, you rang the bell. ding. ding. ding. ding. as you poised to ring it once more, steve opened the backroom door, scooper in hand.

 he let out a breath of what you marked as relief. maybe he’s just glad you wouldn’t actually be ordering ice cream, you thought, until he said, “i was hoping it was you.” 

“oh?” you spluttered, forgetting your whole purpose for returning to the ice cream shoppe. 

“yeah, y/n, i just,” he sighed as if to organize his thoughts. “you were right when you said that i didn’t remember you from high school because i was a pompous dick.” 

“i didn’t say those words!” you defended, then gestured for him to continue. 

“well, you might as well have. i just wanted to apologize, because i really sucked back then. i’m working on it.”

 were you ever expecting an apology from steve? no. maybe a few months ago you would have revelled in this, would have eaten it up and made him beg for forgiveness. but at this point, you had changed, and you felt that he didn’t even have to apologize. well, for much, at least.

 “you’re good, steve. i’m sorry for caring so much about social hierarchy. it probably isn’t even fair for you to apologize to me.” you shrugged.

steve leaned his elbows on the counter, next to the register, and thought for a moment. “fairness is subjective though, isn’t it? like, what’s fair to you might not be fair to me, or vice versa.” 

--------------

after you and steve had apologized to each other in the parlor of Scoops Ahoy, you, him, and robin had been inseparable. no outsiders would ever be able to tell that there was ever a time when you and steve weren’t on good terms...or on any terms for that matter.  as time progressed, you’d now easily call steve one of your best friends. you rarely were not at scoops ahoy, hanging out in the backroom and avoiding their managers. steve had an open invitation to your movie nights, now, although he wasn’t yet granted key privileges like robin was. (you were sure your parents would kill you if you ever gave steve harrington a key to your house.) you’d sat backseat in steve’s car as he and robin scream-sang songs you didn’t know the words to. steve and robin had a bond that you could never begin to understand, and you and robin had one steve could never understand.

 where did that leave you and steve? working on it, for sure. he was funny, intelligent, and quite personable. he was a great friend to robin, and a great friend to you. you felt bad for writing him off so soon. nothing was difficult with steve. you guys had split and shared plenty of burgers at the local diners, and often the two of you would go to the video store, where you educated steve about movies and their importance. steve was clingy, more so onto you than robin. he always wanted to come over, or wanted you to come hang out, or begged for you to tag along when him and robin went on an adventure. 

once, steve had sat you down with a very serious look in his eye, visibly nervous, and declared that you were his best friend. he didn’t know what a best friend felt like, he said, but since you were the person he liked to spend time with the most, it must be you. before you could reply with a similar sentiment, he had added “and robin. but she knew that.” 

so, yeah, things were good. and they remained good for months.

and then the switch flipped, and steve started skipping trio adventures, and calling off of work on days robin worked. calls were fielded, and whenever you caught him in the streets, he brushed you off with a “hey y/n” and a “gotta go.” you were worried, because he was isolating himself with no explanation. there was hardly a ghost of him in the spots the three of you frequented “what’s wrong with steve?” you had asked robin when you first noticed his prolonged absence. robin hadn’t brought steve up for a week, which was odd. normally conversations were peppered with his name, although you and robin had always tried your hardest to pass the in real life bechdel test. 

robin’s response of “i don’t want to talk about him,” confirmed your sneaking suspicion that something had occurred for steve to become so cold. robin and steve were two of the most easy going people you had ever met, so for them to have had an argument seemed far fetched. robin’s stoney features after you had mentioned his name, however, made it obvious to you that an altercation had happened. 

----------------

“what are you doing here?” steve stood behind his door, keeping it open only a hair so you couldn’t wedge yourself inside. 

“what is going on with you?” you asked coldly. the time for reaching out gently had passed.  “you’ve been absolutely ignoring robin & i, and for what, you asshole?”

 “oh shit, is she here?” his eyes scanned his front lawn frantically, in search for robin. “you shouldn’t be here, y/n.”

 “good thing you aren’t in charge of telling me what i should and shouldn’t do, dad. if you don’t talk to me...i’ll..i’ll scream!” 

“go away.” he motioned to shut the door. 

surprising him by how compliant you were, you turned on your heel and trotted down off of his front porch into the lawn. pleased with himself for getting you away so easily, he closed the door and turned the lock. as soon as you heard the lock click, and watched steve skate away through the window, you planted your feet and took a deep breath. 

and then you were screaming. god, you hoped his parents and neighbors weren’t home, because here you were, in steve harrington’s front yard, wailing. you were screaming bloody murder, pausing to catch your breath with all of the cadence of a baby’s cry. you started from a yell and transitioned into a scream. you screamed in every musical scale known to man. you screamed loudly, and you screamed even louder than loudly. your voice box was your portable “ring for service” bell. so, you exercised it.

it felt like years, although it was only 30 seconds of sound until steve came running out into his front yard. he was trying his best to be angry, asking you “what the actual fuck, y/n,” but he was stifling laughter. 

“i told you i would, steve.”“you’re so infuriating!” he let out a frustrated chuckle, and carded his hands through his hair, tugging. “and i’m,” he sighed, facing you with a hollow look in his eye. “i’m in love with you. god, i’m in love with you, and robin’s pissed. so i took a step away for her to cool off, and for me to,” he shrugged,”i don’t know, for me to get over it i guess.” 

for all of that screaming you had done earlier, you were now speechless. moments and moments, it felt like a million moments passed and there was nothing but silence. what were you to say? how do you respond to such a candid confession? finally, after what felt like three years of silence, steve cut his sad and unwavering eye contact and headed back into his house, leaving you there, feet planted, stunned into silence and stagnance.

 you waited a beat in his lawn, processing. then the only thing on your mind was robin. you made a mad dash to your car, shaking your key ring in an effort to start the engine faster. after speeding an ungodly amount, you reached robin’s house. you parked haphazardly in her driveway, shifting into park before you even braked to a stop.

 as you unlocked robin’s door, with your key labeled “robin’s” in big bold letters, she heard the lock jingling and came to the door. “y/n, i was just about to leave and come to your house! i want to go to a movie, is there anything good out?” 

“steve’s in love with me?” you spoke silently, feeling small, the gravity of the confession finally hitting you.

 “well, that’s not exactly a movie,” she tried to joke, but noticing the sullen look in your eyes, she sighed and took a seat on the couch. “yeah, he is.” 

“what the hell, robin?”  you took your usual seat to the left of her, sprawling your limbs out. “he told me you were pissed off.” 

“well, yeah! you broke your own heart in high school over him, and you were sick for years. imagine if he actually broke your heart? you’d be inconsolable.”

 “for him to break my heart, i’d have to feel the same way, dingus.” you poked her arm. 

“are you stupid?” she deadpanned, causing you to let out a shocked laugh and sit up straight.

 “robin!” you gaped. “i am not in love with steve!” 

“okay, you’re stupid,” robin said again, sending the two of you into a fit of giggles. you loved robin so much, that sitting there, laughing and talking about boys was enjoyable, and you almost forgot the two of you were talking about steve. your best friend steve. robin always knew you better than yourself, though, so her implications about your feelings for steve made you think. were you in love with steve? every memory the two of you had shared flashed through your brain like a movie montage. you and steve ordering two different entrees, and then splitting them. steve sneaking you into his house, past his parents, so you could lay in bed and read comics. steve letting you cling onto him during scary movie night, robin calling the both of you pansies in the background. that one time steve called himself daddy and your stomach did a little flip. 

“oh fuck, robin, i think i’m in love with steve,” you groaned, burying her head into her shoulder. everything was made complicated by this realization, you knew. robin and steve weren’t even on speaking terms because of this, and you hadn’t even been involved at that point. and you didn’t even respond to steve when he told you. he was probably so upset. further than that, what would robin think if you and steve were to like...try and get together? would she be mad? what would that mean for the three of you as a unit?

you relayed all of these feelings, thoughts, and questions to robin. although she was close to the situation and probably biased, you still trusted her the most to give you accurate and smart advice. her answers always were right, because she knew you better than you knew yourself. robin assured you that her and steve hadn’t explicitly fought, per se, but she had let him know how she felt about the situation and advised him to step away and sort himself out. but no argument had occurred, contrary to your imagined idea. there were no “bad terms” between the two of them, and robin said she felt like if she saw steve this weekend, they’d fall back into their normal relationship and banter. this soothed you. 

“but if...if steve doesn’t hate me, and something like, happens, how would you feel?” 

“first of all, y/n, you’re dramatic,” you nod in agreement. “as long as he’s not an idiot, and you’re not an idiot...i suppose i will be okay. as long as you’re not, like, gross or anything. but i trust both of you.” 

and that, honestly, was all you needed to hear. after pinky promising you would come back to robin’s house later and tell her everything, you left as quickly as you had come, whipping out of the driveway and going back to where your day’s adventure had first started: steve’s place.

 you felt like you were walking on eggshells around steve, and although you were so excited you wanted to scream (again) and bang on his door, you channeled all of your nervous energy into a doorbell ring and rocking back and forth on your heels. when steve came to the door, he looked sadder than you left him. his hair was wild, his eyes red.

“i love you,” you stated simply, but you felt like your words fell short. how do you put so much emotion into 3 words? there was no way that this could encompass what you felt for steve. you paused. “there’s no way that those words can encompass what i feel for you.”

 ------------

“you’re fucking annoying, steve,” robin stated, tossing a piece of popcorn at him as she stood up to leave. it was movie night at his house, and although he wasn’t really doing anything, him and robin were engaged in some playful banter. steve had made some comments about the poor cinematography of the movie robin had chosen, and she was displeased. you were situated snugly in steve’s lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. you vocally agreed with robin because, yeah, steve was annoying, and he gave your hip a pinch, making you jump.

 “asshole!” you yelped, peeling yourself off of him. 

“you love me,” he commented, not incorrect. 

“yeah, but you’re annoying.” you and robin were a united front, always, despite what you and steve’s relationship status was. you wrapped your arms around her tightly. “drive home safely, please.” she nodded and tipped an invisible hat. 

“i always do, y/n. you two lovebirds have fun, but not too much fun, because we have work tomorrow morning, steve!” she made a hand motion indicating that she was watching him, moving two fingers from her eyes to point at him. 

“aye aye, captain! get some rest, you’ve got a lot of ice cream slinging to do tomorrow. i’m thinking i’m going to hang in the backroom for a little bit.” he grinned as robin groaned, letting herself out of the front door with a sing-songy “goodbye.” 

“c’mere, love,” steve said, looking up at you from the couch. you gave him a big smile and returned to your seat in his lap, straddling him. 

this was the only thing that was different about movie nights now. you and steve would spend the night together afterwards. steve was your boyfriend now. could high school you believe it? you ran your fingers through his hair, giving him a soft kiss on his forehead. “i know you have work tomorrow, and i wanna spend as much time as possible with you, but i’m really tired,” you mumbled, laying your head on his shoulder.

 he nodded with a smile. “that’s okay, baby. let’s lay in bed, we’ll kiss a little, and i’ll let you sleep.” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

the fights had started about a month ago. the honeymoon period was gone, worn off as soon as school ended and the two of you had found yourselves with nothing to do but argue. they were about different things, steve forgetting to call you after work, or you “flirting” with some other guy when you came to visit steve at work. they usually all followed the same format; the silent treatment, then steve would ask you to go for a drive and talk things out in his car. this almost never worked and ended with you guys getting into a big screaming argument. then, steve would ask you--nay, tell you---to get out of his car. it usually ended with him driving you home silently and you kissing him as you left. sometimes you’d invite him in for a nap. fighting took a lot of energy.

this fight in particular didn’t quite follow this archetype. there had been screaming matches all week leading up to this moment.  on Sunday, you and steve had walked hand in hand into church, dressed in your Sunday best, smiling at the congregation. you’d been pinching each other’s wrists and swatting at each other discreetly the whole service. Robin pushed you out of scoops ahoy on monday when you stalked in with an accusatory finger pointed at steve. (she had whispered in your ear, “this is for your own good.” you loved robin.) on this tuesday morning, steve called your house and charmed your mom when she answered, just to curse you out when you answered the phone.  (“I’m picking you up in my fucking car before my shift, and we’re gonna talk this shit out, and kiss and make the fuck up.” “what if i don’t want to, asshole?” he had already hung up and was on his way.)

cut to being pulled over on the side of the road, with your feet up on steve’s dashboard. “I'm gonna miss my shift, y/n. just get out.” his tone shifted into one of apathy, and you felt the change.

neither of you had the energy to fight anymore, truthfully, but you were both still mad. you sighed. no way in hell you were getting out of the car. flatly, you replied, “if you care so much about this job, you’d better start driving. you’ve got to take me home before you go to the mall.”

steve let out a loud, exasperated groan and slammed the passenger door shut, making you flinch. as he made his way back around the car, your eyes filled with tears. you were tired of fighting. you missed your old steve, the one who would visibly light up when he saw you, or tell scoops ahoy customers “that’s my girlfriend,” when you sat at a table visiting at work. you missed when he was proud of you, when he craved your presence and would come over quickly before work just to kiss you and tell you he loved you. and this car, god, this car. you missed when it wasn’t a symbol of a fight. you missed drive-in movies and backseat makeouts and laying on the hood watching the stars.

the engine started up, and steve began the drive to your house. “aren’t you tired of fighting?” you asked softly, wiping your eyes. no response from steve.

and truthfully, this was just as painful for him as it was for you. he missed when you’d call him baby, or laugh at his dumb jokes, or calm him down after a family dinner. he missed sleepovers, you wearing his shirt and kissing his neck gently. he missed his girl, he missed feeling like he knew you well enough to call you his girl. he missed when you’d come in to Scoops and sit in the backroom, doodling on the white board that once held a single point with your name on it under “you rule.”

he was speechless. truly, he couldn’t answer you, and he felt like shit about it. you sighed in the spot that should’ve been his reply, and focused your attention out of the window until steve pulled the car into your driveway slowly. you turned to him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, waiting for what usually happened. you waited for him to turn to you, kiss you softly, and send you on your way.

it didn’t happen. eventually, you got out of his car with a quiet “love you,” which steve again didn’t return. he pulled out of the driveway as you stood there and watched.

that was tuesday. you hadn’t heard from him since. it was thursday, july 4th, and steve’s radio silence sent you a loud and clear message that your plans to stay home and watch movies with the word “America” in the title were cancelled. you would have called robin or the party to hang out, but you hadn’t heard from them either. calls to robin weren’t even answered, and after two times of calling the henderson house, you started to feel a little weird. it felt like the whole town of hawkins was either ignoring you or hanging out without you. you even went to joyce’s house with your bike basket full of ingredients to bake cookies with her, but no one was home.

so you spent the day in bed, sad, contemplating if you and steve were even still together. your parents were working, so you had free reign to lounge on any of the surfaces in the house without judgement. part of you hoped steve would show up, regret written on his face, and a bag full of greasy mall food. but 8pm came and passed, and there was no one. no one home, no one around. no one setting off fireworks in your neighborhood. and definitely no remorseful boyfriends here to sweep you off your feet.

after spending the day lounging and moping, you weren’t exactly tired, but the absolute failure of a day upset you to no end and you just wanted it to be over. as soon as you retreated from the couch to your bed and wrapped yourself up in the covers, there was a loud, urgent knock at the door. you should’ve checked, should’ve made sure who it was before running down the hall, socked feet pattering and swinging open the door. but you knew. you knew it was steve because you knew him. you knew he wouldn’t bail on plans without no call, even in the nastiest of fights.

and although you were expecting steve, you were absolutely not expecting him in his scoops ahoy uniform, bloodied and beaten. “come in, what the fuck, come in!” you ushered him inside, instantly emotional.

“hi,” he grinned.

“what the fuck, steve?” you asked, no malice behind your words, just genuine confusion.

he thought for a few seconds then sighed into a chuckle. “it’s a really long story, and one i owe you, but right now, my face is killing me, and i need you.” you’d been waiting for him to say he needed you for months now. no matter how mad you two had been at each other prior to this moment, this is what you both craved.

“well, go shower first, because you smell like piss, then i’ll patch you up and we can talk.” you paused. “really talk, this time.”

---------------------------------------------

“I call bullshit. Russians? no way.” steve was perched on the closed toilet seat, eyes closed, as you tried to clean his wounds to the best of his ability. “would I lie to you?” you thought for a second. through everything, no, steve had never lied to you.

“I suppose not. but also, being trapped in a secret russian elevator seems like a pretty sick excuse for not calling, if it wasn’t true,” you replied, and steve laughed, opening his eyes to look up at you.

“I thought about you the whole time, y/n. I missed you.”

“you missed me when you were trapped in a russian base camp? noted.” you gave him a soft kiss over his eyebrow and closed up your first aid kit. “I missed you when i was sitting at home, doing nothing.” you grabbed some of steve’s emergency hair product from under your sink and began to work some into his still-damp hair.

“nothing? you didn’t watch our ‘america’ movies?”

“without you?” he hummed in response.

--------------------------------------

an american in Paris was playing softly on the tv when steve turned to look at you in his  arms. “I'm really sorry, you know? I was a dick. I hate fighting with you. you know that.” you nodded, prompting him to continue. “I thought I was going to die down there, baby. I was drugged, tied up---don’t look at me like that, i know---” you tried to mask your incredulous expression. “--and I truly thought I was dead. and I didn't wanna die knowing that we were fighting. it tore me up. and, like,” he paused to sigh, '' I could die at literally any moment. I could've died on tuesday on my way to pick you up, and my last memory of you would’ve been you being escorted out of scoops by robin because you were inconsolably angry with me.”

you let out a little chuckle and pulled his arms tighter around you. “sorry about that.” there was a lingering moment of comfortable silence as you came up with your response. this healthy communication was something you weren’t entirely sure how to navigate yet, clearly. steve’s entire body was engrossing you, physical contact you had been longing for. you had his full attention, and you weren’t sure what to do with it. “i think...i think that we need to talk more. and if we get mad...just, talk rather then instantly resort to screaming or silence. we need an in-between.” you turned to face him, your hands cupping his cheeks. you let your thumb ghost over his lips, narrowly avoiding the still swollen cut on the side. “this can be our in-between. i love you, i love you so much. i hate wasting all of our time together fighting. i’m tired. i want to be able to come over and just love you, nothing else to it. so maybe, stop being so infuriating all of the time.” he gasped and stuck his tongue out at you. “just kidding.”

“i missed you, baby,” steve murmured. you knew he wasn’t just referring to his time trapped under the mall. you and him both realized that his conversation was one that you both desparately needed to have, and that this marked a new dynamic between the two of you.

“i missed you too,” you sniffled, sticking out your bottom lip. he kissed it gently, making you tear up.

“why are you crying?” he laughed softly and rocked you back and forth in his arms.

you let out a watery chuckle and wiped your eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. “i just missed you!” steve pressed his lips to the top of your head and let them rest there, humming along with the movie. after a few seconds you gasped and pulled away. “steve! stop comforting me!” he gave you a weird look and lifted his hands up in surrender slowly. “you’re the one who was literally tortured by evil russians tonight, and fought a….”

“the mind flayer,” he supplied

“a mind flayer!” you continued, “get up.” steve furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to figure out what your plan was. you stood up and gestured for him. “get. up.” when he stood up reluctantly, you laid on the couch and opened your arms for him.

“stop,” he whined, pulling out the p.

“this is happening, steve!” you grinned and he slowly lowered himself onto the couch and into your arms. this had been a subject of many conversations between the two of you. steve’s aversion to being the little spoon is something he doesn’t like to pinpoint, but you know it’s because he’s so conditioned into being the primary caretaker for people, that it’s hard for him to soften and let that care come in for himself. you figured that being tortured by russians and interdimensional creatures should be an exception to steve’s “big spoon only” rule.