Totally Random

He noticed the way two cheerleaders near the water fountain abruptly stopped talking the second you walked past them together. The way Jason Carver muttered something underneath his breath one morning that made the boys behind him laugh quietly into their lockers.

Eddie noticed all of it – even the way you tried to brush it all off.

But he had spent years learning how to survive the judgmental hallways of Hawkins High – which meant he knew exactly what people sounded like when they were judging someone.

And the worse part of it all was the way you still kept gravitating naturally back towards him anyway.

The escalating gossip and the quiet way your social world had started shifting around him made an uncomfortable static buzzing settle underneath Eddie’s skin, his mind flooding with overthinking thoughts that only ever seemed to hurt him more.

He pulled the burning cigarette from between his lips with an exasperated sigh, a deep scowl settling across his face before he threw the tainted filter onto the pavement and crushed it beneath his sneaker.

It had taken him almost an hour longer than usual to leave the trailer that morning, and because of it, he’d pulled into Hawkins High’s parking lot long after the first bell had already rung and the rows of cars had emptied. Now he leaned against the side of his van with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, repeatedly kicking at the cracked pavement beneath his feet while he debated whether he should walk inside at all – or just drive back home like he had never shown up in the first place.

Eddie reached for another cigarette when the second bell rang through the open air of the nearly empty parking lot, his temple already throbbing painfully. His jaw clenched hard enough to hurt while his fingers pluck a cigarette from the crumpled pack, his eyes still glued to the school building like it had personally offended him.

He hated the whispers, Jason Carver’s bullshit comments, the way people suddenly looked at you differently.

And the fucking fact you still smiled every single time you saw him anyway – like none of it mattered, like he was still something good to come back to.

The thought twisted painfully somewhere underneath his ribs while the uncomfortable static buzzing beneath his skin only worsened. Eddie dragged both hands down his face, nearly dropping the cigarette hanging between his lips, before finally lighting it and taking one long, deep drag.

By the time he finally stepped inside the school, the hallways somehow felt even brighter than the early Wednesday sunlight had only seconds earlier.

Most classes had already started, leaving the corridors eerily quiet besides the distant muffled drone of teachers talking behind closed classroom doors and the occasional locker slamming somewhere further down the hall. He kept his head lowered while making his way towards the office for a late slip, fingers tightening repeatedly around the strap of his bag every time his thoughts threatened to spiral again.

And then he saw the jacket hanging over the back of your chair through one of the narrow door windows.

His jacket – still wrapped around your world even when he wasn’t beside you.

Eddie stopped walking for half a second.

And somehow, that made the awful buzzing underneath his skin feel even worse.

The first thing Jeff noticed when Eddie walked through the cafeteria doors was the deep furrow settled between his brows, followed by twitching fingers and eyes that looked completely lost somewhere deep in thought. His gaze tracked Eddie’s movement through the massive room until he finally reached the Hellfire table.

No jokes, no curses, not even a comment about how shitty they – or more specifically he – had played last night.

Eddie just… sat down in his usual chair at the head of the table, unusually quiet in a way Jeff hadn’t seen from him in weeks.

For a moment, Jeff only stared blankly down at the cold pizza sitting on his tray like he genuinely couldn’t decide whether he hated the cafeteria food more than the sight in front of him. His eyes then flickered briefly towards the growing lunch line near the back of the cafeteria, checking to make sure the rest of Hellfire was still far enough away not to overhear them before looking back at Eddie again.

“You know,” Jeff started softly while reaching for his disgusting slice of pizza, “she’ll be okay. She’s tougher than you think.”

Eddie’s jaw tightened almost immediately. “She shouldn’t have to be.”

“And you shouldn’t make decisions for her,” Jeff muttered while taking another hesitant bite of his pizza.

Eddie shot him a sharp look almost instantly, his arms crossing tightly over his chest in defence. “I’m not–”

“Yes, you are,” Jeff cut him off softly. “You’re making the exact face you always make whenever you start overthinking yourself into stupid decisions.”

He scoffed quietly underneath his breath before looking back down at the table.

“This is different.”

Jeff hummed lowly like he didn’t entirely disagree, though his expression stayed annoyingly calm. His dark eyes briefly flickered towards the lunch line where Gareth, Mike and Dustin were finally making their way through the crowd towards the table.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But she’s still choosing you anyway.”

That made the Eddie go quiet again.

“You should talk to her,” Jeff added quickly. “Not push her away.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Dustin’s loud voice cut straight through the conversation the second he practically threw himself into the chair opposite Jeff.

“Why do cafeteria pizza somehow get worse every single time?” he complained dramatically while shoving his slice into his mouth anyway.

Nathalie stretched her neck upwards before blowing a sharp stream of cigarette smoke into the open air, a faint furrow settling between her brows.

She leaned back against the brick wall facing the football field, her gaze following the sweaty senior boys running back and forth across the grass while she – for once in her life – carefully chose her words before saying them out loud.

“How are you?” she finally settled on.

Her eyes flickered briefly down towards her shoes while she took another drag before lifting her head again.

Your brows furrowed slightly while you looked up at her from where you sat on the concrete floor beside her.

“I’m fine,” you answered, sounding genuinely confused. “You know I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Nathalie mumbled while crushing the cigarette beneath the sole of her shoe. “But, like…”

She hesitated briefly before looking back at you again.

“How are you doing with all of it?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips while your fingers absentmindedly played with the frayed hem of your shorts.

“I’m… good,” you answered with a quiet little chuckle. “He’s really good to me.”

Nathalie pursed her lips while a quiet, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. She reached back into her purse for another cigarette before lighting it carefully.

“That’s… great,” she settled on cautiously after taking a drag. “But it’s not really what I meant.”

Your gaze followed Nathalie’s towards the football field as you pulled a face – whether it was because of the sweaty senior boys running back and forth across the grass or because of the question she’d just asked, you weren’t entirely sure.

You loosened your grip on the frayed hem of your shorts before silently raising your hand towards her instead.

Nathalie immediately reached back into her purse again before placing a cigarette and lighter into your open palm without another word.

The two of you stayed like that for a while afterwards – smoking in silence while the football team shouted mindlessly across the field and early-summer wind curled cigarette smoke into the open air between you.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled after a long moment of silence, your grip tightening slightly around the cigarette before you brought it back to your lips.

“Is it?” Nathalie asked softly.

Your gaze dropped towards your shoes while you slowly exhaled the burning smoke into the open air.

“It will be, right?” you murmured quietly, your brows pulling together in a way Nathalie wasn’t used to seeing on you. “I mean… eventually this all becomes old news or whatever, right?”

Nathalie let out a soft sigh before slowly sliding down the brick wall, completely ignoring whatever damage the rough surface might do to her clothes as she sat down beside you. then, she extended one hand towards you, palm facing upwards while she tilted her head back against the wall.

You brought the cigarette to your lips one last time before placing your hand into hers, fingers tightening gently around her hand as you mirrored her and leaned your own head back too.

Nathalie didn’t quite have the heart to answer your question.

So instead, she simply rested her head against your shoulder while the two of you continued watching football players scream mindlessly across the field.

“I’m here for you,” she whispered quietly while softly squeezing your hand. “You know that, right?”

You squeezed back automatically, but didn’t answer.

“But I’ll kill him if he ever starts being a dick to you.”

That finally pulled a quiet laugh from you while you stubbed the cigarette out against the concrete beside your shoe.

“Oh,” you murmured softly, leaning your head briefly against hers, “I know you will.”

Your hair bounced softly when you turned to glance over your shoulder, quickly scanning the hallway to see if he was anywhere nearby before turning back towards your open locker again. The leather hanging around your frame creaked quietly with the movement while a soft sigh escaped your lips.

You hadn’t really seen Eddie all day.

Sure, you’d caught glimpses of him at the back of the classrooms or leaning over the water fountain between classes, but the two of you hadn’t had a single moment alone together. And his absence had started bothering you more than you wanted to admit – not because you suddenly needed to be glued to his side every second of the day, but because you’d started noticing the way he seemed to be avoiding you.

Like keeping his distance might somehow stop the staring, or quiet the whispers following you through the hallways.

By the time you finally walked outside towards your car, your hand clenched tightly around the strap of your bag while your eyes instinctively searched the parking lot for the familiar Chevy Gaucho – but it wasn’t there.

A soft furrow settled between your brows while you dug through your bag for your keys before sliding into the driver’s seat with a quiet, defeated sigh.

The engine rumbled to life beneath your hands as you glanced over your shoulder and carefully backed out of the parking spot while, for a moment, you debated just going home and leaving Eddie alone for the rest of the day.

But another part of you, the louder part, already knew you probably wouldn’t.

The drive across town towards Forest Hills passed slowly and almost completely silent, interrupted only by the occasional whoosh of wind slipping through the small gap in your rolled-down windows. And before you fully realised it, the crunching gravel beneath your tires had carried you right in front of the Munson trailer.

You set there for another moment afterwards, fingers still curled around your car keys while you gathered enough courage to finally step out and walk towards the front door.

The aluminium door creaked open just as you pushed your car door shut, revealing a tired-looking metalhead leaning heavily against the frame.

“How’d you know I was coming here?” you asked softly.

“I didn’t,” Eddie sighed while pushing himself away from the doorway to let you inside. “Recognised your engine.”

A quiet hum left you while you stepped into the trailer, your fingers immediately fidgeting together when your eyes caught the exhausted look lingering across his face.

“You should let me take a look at it one of these days,” he murmured absentmindedly while closing the door behind you.

“If that’s what it takes for you to stop ignoring me,” you replied quietly while your fingers found a loose piece of skin near your thumbnail.

He sighed tiredly while dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not–”

“Yes, you are,” you interrupted quietly, biting at your lip while you tried deciding whether to stay where you were or step closer to him instead. “And I know why you’re doing it.”

Your fingers twisted nervously together before your eyes lifted back towards his again.

“I just want you to stop,” you mumbled softly while searching for his eyes again. “I wouldn’t have worn your jacket if I wasn’t sure about this, Eddie.”

Eddie dragged a ringed hand through his hair, accidentally pushing his bangs back while he dropped heavily onto the couch behind you. He tried saying something, but the words died on his tongue the second he opened his mouth.

You swallowed nervously after tugging a little too hard at the loose piece of skin around your thumb before finally stepping closer to him instead, until you stood quietly between his legs.

“I really, really like you,” you whispered softly, like saying it any louder might somehow scare him away. “And pushing me away isn’t gonna stop that.”

Another exhausted sigh left his lips as he softly curled his fingers around your wrist to pull you into his lap. He then brushed his nose against your neck as he hid his face from you, like that might make the words come easier.

“I just…” he trailed off softly, leaning further into the crook of your neck. “I don’t know how to do this without ruining it.”

“Neither do I,” you whispered back as your hand found the back of your head, your fingertips brushing softly against his scalp. “This is my first… relationship too, you know.”

Eddie let out something dangerously close to a laugh against your neck, though it carried no real humour underneath it – just emotional exhaustion and disbelief tangled together.

“Yeah, but you are…” he started softly before his words died again.

Better. Too good for this. Too good for him.

The thoughts swarmed too loudly underneath his skull for him to even attempt saying them out loud.

“We’re both figuring it out,” you whispered quietly. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it?”

Eddie swallowed hard against your neck as your hand slid from the back of his head down towards his cheek instead, gently coaxing him to finally look up at you.

“You don’t have to protect me from this,” you whispered softly. “You’re not ruining anything.”

Something vulnerable flickered across his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at. “But what if I do?”

Your brows pulled together before you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you murmured against his bangs. “Together.”

The shop windows were fogged with fingertips and cluttered hand-lettered posters advertising long-finished gigs in and around Hawkins, while warm streaks of evening sunlight slanted through floating dust motes and turned the air inside the record store hazy and almost sepia-toned despite the humming AC overhead.

Rows of wooden crates and wobbling shelves created narrow aisles of colourful record spines, forming uneven skylines of faded fonts and worn album covers while old floorboards creaked beneath mismatched armchairs and softly humming turntables.

You flipped through the vinyl far slower than Eddie usually did, carefully lingering on each sleeve while your fingers traced absentmindedly over worn cardboard corners.

Eddie had driven the two of you downtown with the suggestion of picking out a record to buy for each other.

To say you’d been spiralling ever since stepping foot inside the shop would’ve been an understatement. Nerves buzzed restlessly underneath your skin while you worried about accidentally choosing something Eddie would absolutely hate.

While your fingers continued their lazy but determined flipping through the vinyl, two ringed hands suddenly curled around your waist before familiar curls started tickling softly against your cheek.

“You find anything interesting?” Eddie mumbled quietly against your skin.

You hummed thoughtfully for a second without lifting your gaze from the record sleeves in front of you.

“Yeah,” you murmured back while tilting your head slightly away from the curls tickling your face, “Found three that look promising, but I’m really stuck between two of them.”

Eddie squinted suspiciously at your side profile even though you weren’t really looking at him anymore.

“Lemme see.”

“Nope,” you chuckled.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured while his grip around your waist tightened slightly.

“Absolutely not.”

“You know this counts as censorship, right?”

You only laughed softly and shook your head before continuing to flip through the records, completely ignoring the increasingly dramatic curses mumbled underneath his breath.

“Can you at least give me a hint, then?” he tired again.

You hummed thoughtfully, pretending to seriously consider the request for a second before finally glancing back over your shoulder at him.

“The first one sounds more like you,” you murmured softly once your eyes met his glinting ones as your fingers paused briefly against a random vinyl. “And the other one kinda… feels like you.”

The low ring of the bell above the shop door pulled your attention away from him for only a split second while his grip around your waist tightened briefly before loosening again.

When you looked back at him, your breath caught softly at the unreadable softness that had settled into his eyes.

“What?” you murmured quietly.

“Nothing,” Eddie replies in the same low tone while one of his hands rose to your face, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. A crooked little smile tugged at his lips. “Just, y’know… trying not to fall hard for you.”

An unexpected snort escaped you immediately, your cheeks warming despite yourself.

“Real smooth, Munson,” you laughed softly while turning your gaze away from him.

The silence between the two of you stayed easy and warm while you continued flipping through sleeves until you reached the end of the crate, forcing Eddie to lazily shuffle along beside you towards the next one.

The owner – Aaron, maybe – moved through the shop with slow familiarity, absentmindedly sliding his coffee cup across the register counter while rambling about old pressings and local shows to another customer.

Eddie’s eyes lingered on your face, taking in the slight furrow settling between your brows whenever you tried reading the tiny lettering on the back of the sleeves, the way your eyes glimmered every time you found a record by an artist you loved, and – more importantly – the way your entire body had relaxed comfortably in his arms.

His gaze briefly flickered towards your hands, lingering on the questionable shade of green painted across your fingernails that somehow felt incredibly you, before he closed his eyes and leaned further into you.

“You just gonna hover over me or…?” you murmured jokingly without looking away from the crate in front of you. “You haven’t looked at a single record in, like, ten minutes.”

“I got distracted,” he mumbled softly against your cheek.

That pulled the smallest smile at the corners of your mouth.

Eddie opened his eyes again afterwards, quietly watching the warm glow of the overhead lamps stretch across your face in soft amber stripes, the way your teeth occasionally caught your bottom lip while you searched through the crate, and the absentminded little hums that escaped you whenever you recognised the song playing overhead.

And somewhere between the dusty shelves, humming turntables, and your warmth resting comfortably between his arms, Eddie realised he didn’t really care whether Hawkins understood any of this or not – because he did.

The plastic bag crinkled softly in your hand while you followed Eddie back into the trailer, the metalhead practically vibrating with curiosity beside you.

Wayne’s heavy work boots still hadn’t appeared by the porch, and his truck was missing from its usual spot outside, leaving the trailer quiet and completely yours for the evening.

Eddie kicked off his shoes the second he stepped inside before immediately stealing the bag from your hands and heading straight for the record player.

“C’mon,” he urged while motioning dramatically towards the couch. “I need to know how psychologically accurate these choices are.”

You laughed softly under your breath while lazily slipping off your shoes before settling comfortably against the cushions and mismatched pillows. Leaning over the back of the couch, you quietly watched Eddie move around the living room while warm evening light stretched through the trailer windows.

“So,” he murmured while carefully pulling the records from the plastic bag before setting it beside the record player, “which one is which?”

“Just warning you, neither of them is metal,” you replied quietly. “Start with Deuce.”

“We’ve already established I contain multitudes, Sweetheart,” Eddie tsked while his careful fingers reached for the black-and-white sleeve.

His ringed hand carefully lowered the needle before he took a step back, waiting for the soft crackle of static to slowly give way to dry electric guitar notes layered with bluesy warmth and reverb-kissed rhythm.

“It’s less about the lyrics, and more about how the album feels,” you murmured quietly from the couch as your eyes drifted towards him again. “It’s… earthy and immediate, propulsive and honest. Like you.”

Eddie still had his back turned towards you, his gaze fixed quietly on the spinning record while the spacious atmosphere of the song slowly gave way to Rory Gallagher’s rueful, reflective vocals.

The trailer filled slowly with rough guitar tones and restless percussion while warm evening light stretched across the carpet in fading amber stripes.

He stayed standing near the record player for a while longer than necessary, one hand resting against the edge of the cabinet while the other hung loosely by his side.

You watched the subtle way his shoulders loosened underneath his jacket; the way his head tilted ever so slightly towards the music – like some invisible tension had finally started easing from his body without him even noticing.

Then he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his expression completely softened now.

“You think I’m honest?” he asked quietly, like the thought genuinely surprised him.

“Yeah,” you answered simply as a small furrow settled between your eyebrows. “Painfully so, actually.”

That pulled a quiet huff of laughter from him before he finally stepped away from the record player and dropped onto the couch beside you. The cushions dipped underneath his weight while his arm immediately stretched across the back of the couch behind you out of pure instinct.

“Most people usually go with words like obnoxious first.”

Your lips twitched softly. “They don’t know you very well, then.”

Eddie went quiet again after that – not uncomfortably, but the dangerous kind. The kind that settled whenever you accidentally said something that reached deeper into him that you probably realised.

By the time you’d flipped the record and the lean blues-rock palette of Should’ve Learnt My Lesson filled the soft quietness of the trailer, your fingertips had found their way into Eddie’s curls, nails lightly scraping against his scalp while his head rested comfortably in your lap as he rolled a joint for the two of you.

There hadn’t been many word exchanged while the record played in the background, most of Eddie’s attention drifting towards Gallagher’s expressive guitar work and gritty vocals instead.

A breathy chuckle escaped you when you noticed his socked-covered toes subtly wiggling along to the rhythm while he expertly rolled the joint closed before lifting the sticky edge towards your mouth for you to seal it.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying it,” you murmured teasingly while brushing another curl away from his forehead.

Eddie only hummed distractedly in response before lighting the joint and taking the first drag.

“That guitar note is making me transcend,” he mumbled while smoke curled lazily from his lips. “Can’t wait to play this for Wayne. He’s gonna love it, too.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, warmth immediately blooming across your cheeks.

But your smile slowly softened afterwards while you looked down at him stretched comfortably across your lap beneath the warm trailer light.

Because somewhere between the low hum of music filling the living room, the fading evening sunlight outside, and Eddie absentmindedly tracing shapes against your knee with his thumb, the entire night had started feeling strangely important.

“You hungry?” you asked after a while, still gently scraping your nails against his scalp while taking the joint from his fingers with his free hand.

Eddie nodded lazily while the faint rhythmic chirping of crickets outside slowly filled the trailer after the needle had returned to its stand.

You stood in the kitchen stirring a generous spoonful of store-bought pesto into the large pot of pasta you’d made for the two of you – and Wayne whenever he eventually got home – while Eddie’s sock-covered feet thudded softly against the linoleum floor towards the record player.

“Tell me about this other one,” he murmured from the living room before taking another sharp drag from the joint.

You continued stirring the wooden spoon through the pasta in lazy, circular motions while quietly humming to yourself, trying to figure out how to explain it properly.

“It’s… raw, and present in a really intense way,” you started softly after a moment. Another handful of grated cheese disappeared into the pot before you continued. “It’s about loss, and honesty, and survival.”

Your eyes flickered briefly towards the living room.

“But it’s also just… really intimate, I guess.”

Eddie’s hand stilled briefly around the blue sleeve, the ash at the end of the joint threatening to fall while he forgot to tap it entirely. For a second, he just stood there quietly letting your words settle somewhere deep underneath his ribs instead.

“Is this…” he started softly before swallowing hard. “Is this the one that feels like me?”

You brought the wooden spoon to your mouth to taste the pasta before humming absentmindedly in agreement.

The trailer fell quiet again besides the soft wet sounds of the pasta being stirred and the faint nighttime noises drifting through the open kitchen window.

Eddie looked back down at the sleeve in his hands, his thumb absentmindedly brushing across the worn cardboard edge while something unreadable settled over his face.

“Y’know,” he murmured quietly, almost more to himself than to you, “it’s kinda… scary how well you read me.”

His ringed hands carefully pulled the record from the sleeve before gently placing it onto the turntable and lowering the needle with slow precision.

A soft crackle filled the trailer before Marianne Faithfull’s bruised voice slowly bled through the speakers.

Instead of answering him right away, you leaned against the kitchen counter and watched him from across the trailer while warm streaks of pink and amber light spilled across the living room and smoke curled lazily towards the ceiling. Because the truth was, reading Eddie had never really felt difficult – not when every emotion he carried lived so openly underneath his skin.

“I really like her cover of Working Class Hero,” you murmured softly after a moment, trying not to make him more uncomfortable than he probably already was. “Honestly think it’s better than the original.”

Eddie snorted quietly while his eyes scanned the tracklist again. “Yeah, well, not exactly hard to trump John Lennon, Sweetheart.”

While the propulsive bass locked in with muted synths and Marianne Faithfull’s weathered, cinematic vocals drifted softly through the trailer, you pulled two bowls from the cupboard and filled them generously with pasta before setting them down on the small kitchen table.

Eddie had his sock-covered feet propped onto the empty chair beside him while he slouched lazily in his own, absentmindedly pushing the ashtray towards the centre of the table before pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your arm when you handed him a spoon and sat down beside him.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence while the record continued spinning quietly in the background – at least until the sudden, heavy pull of the front door echoed through the trailer.

Wayne’s brows furrowed slightly when he stepped inside, pausing briefly to kick off his work boots before stepping in as his eyes landed on the two of you sitting together at the kitchen table. Then his gaze drifted towards the record player.

“You’re way too good of an influence on him,” he grunted, like this wasn’t the very first time he’d walked in on the two of you together while he stepped further into the kitchen.

Eddie snorted softly underneath his breath while his eyes flickered towards yours again, immediately taking his feet down from the empty chair across from him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the early morning sky hadn’t opened with warm amber streaks of sunlight but instead with thick, grey clouds and light rain tapping softly against the windshield. The humid air, however, still clung heavily to the world outside while Eddie drove the two of you towards Hawkins High with both windows cracked open just enough to let the smell of rain drift through the van.

His legs still bounced dramatically between shifting gears, but for once, it wasn’t because he felt nervous about whatever waited for the two of you inside the endless school hallways.

Not after the warm, comfortable weekend you’d spent together between the record shop downtown and the safe walls of his home.

Megadeth’s Devils Island played softly through the van’s staticky speakers before it was abruptly cut off alongside the engine once Eddie pulled into his usual parking spot. He tilted his head back against the headrest and turned to look at you with sleepy eyes, quietly taking in your messy bed hair and the way both his shirt and jacket hung loosely around your frame.

“What?” you mumbled while loosening your seatbelt and stretching your arms upwards with a quiet groan.

A soft smile tugged at Eddie’s lips. “I really, really like you. Y’know that, right?”

“You made it pretty obvious when you gave me that first pressing of The Letter/Neon Rainbow yesterday,” you joked quietly, your own sleepy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie shot his eyebrows upwards, an exaggerated unimpressed expression settling across his face.

“The way you kissed me when She Knows How started playing was a pretty good indicator, too.”

Eddie laughed then – loud and warm and unmistakably him – before reaching for the strap of your bag while simultaneously pushing open his door.

“Damn,” he sighed dramatically after calming down enough to close the door behind him before walking around the front of the van towards you. “And here I was thinking I’d been subtle.”

You chuckled quietly under your breath before reaching for his ringed hand and tugging him towards the school entrance before the two of you got completely drenched by the morning rain.

“There’s nothing subtle about you, Eds.”

He gave your hand another soft squeeze before his grip relaxed slightly again, his thumb brushing absentminded circles against the back of your hand while you tugged him towards the vending machines near the covered entrance.

It only took one quick glance for Eddie to notice the lingering stares and quiet whispers following the two of you through the crowded entrance – eyes flickering towards your joined hands, his shirt and jacket hanging from your frame, the closeness between you. But instead of spiralling the way he would’ve only a week earlier, Eddie simply squeezed your hand once more before fishing loose change from his pocket with his free hand.

“Well, well, well.”

You heard Nathalie’s unmistakable voice before you even saw her.

A knowing grin tugged at her lips while she crossed her arms over her chest beneath the covered entrance.

“Look at you lovebirds,” she continued with a quiet chuckle before shamelessly stealing the soda can straight from your hand. “You date for, what? Two weeks? And he’s already becoming a bad influence on you?”

“Can I have my Coke back?” you mumbled flatly, shooting her an unimpressed look.

“Absolutely not,” she replied without hesitation while clutching the can dramatically against her chest. “It’s not even eight in the morning and you already wanna drink soda?”

Her eyes flickered knowingly towards Eddie before she snorted softly underneath her breath.

“I already regret sending you running to his trailer.”

Eddie nearly choked on his cigarette smoke beside you while his cheeks shifted from milky white to an exaggerated shade of pink. “Jesus Christ, Nathalie.”

He immediately looked away from the blonde, his eyes flickering across the crowded entrance while pretending to search for his friends instead.

“If you’re looking for Gareth,” Nathalie started smugly while dropping the unopened can into your bag, still hanging from Eddie’s shoulder, instead of giving it back to you, “he’s not here yet.”

“You anxiously waiting for your Loverboy?” you teased while pulling Eddie’s cigarette between his lips for a quick drag before handing it back.

“He’s not–” she started automatically before abruptly cutting herself off with a deep sigh. “You know what? No comment.”

Before Nathalie could recover, the familiar – and annoyingly loud – voices of the Hellfire boys echoed somewhere behind the three of you right before a red-and-black flannel-clad arm slithered dramatically over her shoulders.

Gareth’s curls bounced wildly while he pressed an exaggerated kiss against her temple as Jeff and the two freshmen blinked at each other behind him. His eyes immediately narrowed the second he noticed Eddie’s still pink cheeks, your suspiciously smug expression, and Nathalie unsuccessfully trying to shrug him off.

“…Why does everybody look guilty?” he asked slowly before his eyes widened dramatically.

“Aw, fuck,” he gasped. “They know, don’t they?”

“We already knew,” you and Dustin answered at the exact same time before jeff smacked the back of Dustin’s head hard enough to make him yelp.

“But it’s not like you were being subtle with your arm right there, Romeo,” Eddie pointed out while blowing smoke towards the rain outside before crushing the cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Or the way you literally waited by the entrance for him,” you added sweetly as you shot Nathalie a smug look.

Gareth’s curls bounced again while he whipped his head towards Nathalie so fast it looked painful.

“You waited for me?”

“No,” Nathalie answered instantly as she looked away.

“Oh, you so did,” Dustin snickered immediately before Jeff smacked him in the head again.

A stupidly delighted grin slowly spread across Gareth’s face.

“Oh my God,” Jeff muttered immediately. “Do not encourage him.”

“She waited for me in the rain,” Gareth whispered dramatically to nobody in particular before pressing another kiss on Nathalie’s temple. “You basically love me.”

Nathalie looked genuinely homicidal. “I’m killing every single one of you.”

“You can’t kill me, babe,” Gareth replied smugly while tightening his arm around her shoulders again. “I’m beloved.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” the drummed replied smugly while pointing at himself, “still irresistible.”

Jeff gagged loudly in the background while Nathalie shoved Gareth hard enough to nearly knock him into Dustin.

“I miss when Eddie was the embarrassing one.”

The first few classes passed unhurriedly while the clouds outside slowly darkened into a deeper shade of grey than they’d been when you left Forest Hills earlier that morning, while rain tapped harder against the fogged classroom windows as you shoved your notebook back into your bag before stepping out into the already buzzing hallway.

Eddie leaned against the wall beside the open classroom door, patiently waiting while absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his thighs as his eyes scanned the stream of students spilling into the hallway.

The softest smile immediately curled at his lips the second his gaze finally landed on you. Especially when he noticed you instinctively adjusting his leather jacket tighter around your frame while making your way towards him.

He immediately slipped your bag from your shoulder onto his own before his hands found your hips – his latest favourite way of holding you.

“You look way too good in this,” he murmured while his eyes slowly drifted down the leather jacket before lifting back towards your again. “I’m starting to think I might need to buy myself another one.”

You only chuckled softly before he pulled you closer for a lingering kiss.

“Although…” he started quietly after pulling away, dramatically squinting down at you, “I’m not entirely sure christening another leather jacket in my bed would be a good idea.”

Your eyes immediately darted away for half a second when warmth rushed into your cheeks underneath his gaze.

“Don’t be a horndog, Munson.”

“I literally can’t stop, babe,” he laughed softly before pressing a quick kiss against your temple and intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you towards the cafeteria. “Have you seen yourself in this thing? Jesus H. Christ.”

His thumb brushed softly against the back of your hand while you simply shook your head, a small smile lingering stubbornly at your lips as you followed him through the crowded hallways.

Lockers slammed somewhere in the distance alongside squeaking sneakers and the constant low buzz of teenage gossip while the two of you stepped through the cafeteria door together.

“You, uh…” Eddie started softly while guiding you through the crowd towards the Hellfire table. “You wanna sit with us?”

The slight uncertainty in his voice made your expression soften immediately, like he still wasn’t entirely sure whether you’d actually want to.

“That okay with the boys?” you asked quietly.

Eddie snorted softly underneath his breath before tugging you a little closer beside him. “I couldn’t care less about them,” he murmured while leading you towards the table anyway.

He gently released your hand before dramatically pulling out a chair for you with an exaggerated bow and a soft milady slipping from his smiling lips before slouching comfortably into his usual chair at the head of the table.

While you busied yourself with setting your bag down and pulling the ziplock bag filled with homemade sandwiches from inside it, Dustin and Mike approached the table carrying their lunch trays.

“I’m, like, super happy about the whole feminine presence at the table thing,” Dustin started while practically throwing himself into the chair beside yours, “but that’s actually my seat. Just for future reference.”

Eddie slowly tilted his head towards the freshman, narrowing his eyes dramatically while his jaw clenched in fake irritation.

Dustin immediately looked back down at his tray.

“You know what?” his voice cracked slightly. “It’s whatever. I’m actually not that attached to the chair.”

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie muttered smugly before stealing a handful of fries straight off Dustin’s tray. “Insolent little prick.”

Mike pulled a face while absentmindedly nudging his food around with the plastic fork in his hand while you slapped Eddie’s wrist for stealing Dustin’s fries before shoving one of the sandwiches you’d packed into his hand instead.

“Don’t be mean,” you muttered.

“So,” Mike stared bluntly while glancing between the two of you, “are you guys officially dating yet?”

Eddie nearly choked on the sandwich mid-bite while Dustin whipped around in his seat dramatically.

“Oh my God, thank you,” he breathed out while pointing at Mike. “I’ve been trying to figure out if we’re allowed to ask that.”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that,” Eddie muttered hoarsely while grabbing his soda. “Shut up. It’s none of ya business.”

Mike blinked slowly. “That sounds like a yes.”

“It sounds exactly like a yes,” Gareth agreed immediately while dropping his tray onto the table before tossing his backpack onto the floor and slouching into his chair.

Jeff only snorted quietly under his breath while your eyes met his briefly across the table, both of you trying to suppress your laughter.

Underneath the table, your hand found Eddie’s thigh and gave it a soft reassuring squeeze. He immediately glanced towards you at that, some of the exaggerated annoyance melting from his face the second your eyes met his before he slowly turned back towards Gareth instead with a knowing grin immediately tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What about you, loverboy?” he asked while tilting his head dramatically. “Where’s your girl with your leash?”

“Uh…” Gareth blinked several times while an alarming shade of pink slowly spread across his cheeks.

“Oh my God,” Dustin gasped dramatically while pointing at Gareth. “He’s blushing!”

“Dude,” Mike deadpanned while staring directly at the drummer, “don’t tell me she actually puts a leash on you.”

Jeff immediately leaned back in his chair with the exhausted expression of a man witnessing a train derail in slow motion.

“Jesus Christ, Wheeler,” he muttered while dragging a hand down his face. “You are way too young to know about that kinda shit.”

“About what?” Mike blinked innocently towards the bassist.

Gareth scoffed dramatically, completely ignoring the lingering warmth still staining his cheeks.

“For your information,” he started while sitting straighter in his chair, “I would look fantastic on a leash.”

Eddie immediately pursed his lips towards the drummer in disgust.

“Dude,” he groaned while pointing vaguely across the table, “can you not be disgusting in front of my girl?”

You blinked slowly towards him while a soft smile immediately tugged at your lips. “Your girl, huh?”

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly while Jeff and Gareth immediately snorted before slapping each other a triumphant high-five.

“You are never beating the whipped allegations now, dude,” Gareth announced proudly, visibly relieved all the attention had shifted away from him and back onto Eddie instead.

“Took him long enough,” Dustin muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Eddie just stared at you for another second while a slow blush started creeping back across his cheeks and down his neck.

“…I mean,” he muttered weakly, suddenly far less smug than before, “if you want to be.”

“You even have to ask?” you teased softly, a playful glint settling in your eyes. “After we christened your jacket and everything?”

Jeff immediately groaned loudly while he dragged both hands down his face. “Aw, c’mon. There are children at this table.”

Unfortunately for Eddie, his last period hadn’t fallen through the way yours had – the blessing and the curse of not taking AP Psychology for extra credit like you were.

So, the second the final bell rang after an excruciating hour of listening to Mrs. O’Donnell’s drone on, he shoved himself out of his seat and headed straight for the library in search of you.

Eddie had long since grown used to the lingering stares and cruel whispered comments thrown his way every time he walked through the hallways of Hawkins High, but that didn’t mean living with it had ever become easy. Especially now that most comments weren’t directed at him anymore.

They were directed at you – even when you weren’t there to hear them yourself.

His hand twitched every time he overheard girls giggling about the freak groupie while leaning against their lockers, or basketball players muttering that you were probably doing charity work before eventually coming back to your senses.

“How do you go from sleeping with Zack fucking Whitaker to sleeping with the Freak?” one girl whispered to her friend while leaning over the water fountain. “She’s such a slut.”

Eddie sank his nails deeper into his palms until it hurt, trying his hardest not to react because he knew that would only add fuel to the fire. Instead, he swallowed hard while a headache started pounding behind his temple and continued making his way towards the library.

All the excruciating noise from the hallway seemed to dull the second Eddie pushed open the library door – like the entire room had somehow been soundproofed from the rest of Hawkins High.

Maybe it had been – fuck if Eddie knew how they’d built this godforsaken school.

Even his own footsteps suddenly sounded too loud against the floor while he made his way through the rows of tables and shelves, pulling a slight face like he shouldn’t even be walking at all in order not to disturb the comfortable quietness of turning pages and the distant dripping of the coffee machine somewhere in the back.

The agonising pounding behind his temple slowly started easing the second his eyes finally landed on you.

You sat with your head resting against one hand while scribbling something into your notebook with the other, three different books spread open across the table in front of you.

Eddie quietly came to a stop as his gaze lingered on the way you absentmindedly brought your pen to your mouth to bite softly against it while your brows furrowed in concentration, and the way you still wore his leather jacket around your shoulders.

Something warm twisted quietly underneath his ribs.

Then, without making his presence known, he slowly turned towards the back of the library to grab the both of you a cup of coffee.

The smell of cheap, burnt coffee followed Eddie back through the library while he carefully balanced the two styrofoam cups in his hands.

You looked up the second he approached the table, the furrow between your eyebrows immediately softening.

“There you are,” you whispered quietly.

Something inside his chest loosened embarrassingly fast at the simple words that slipped your mouth.

He only hummed in response before setting one of the coffees beside your notebook and sliding into the chair next to yours instead of the one across from you, immediately pulling you gently against his side so he could press a soft kiss against your temple.

Your knee bumped softly against his underneath the table almost instantly.

“You okay?” you asked after a moment while closing one of the open textbooks.

Eddie stared quietly at the rain sliding down the library windows for a second too long before your hand found the sleeve of his flannel underneath the table – not forcing, or prying.

Just… there.

And somehow that made the headache behind his temple ease more than the silence ever could.

“Better now,” he whispered quietly, a small smile finally tugging at his lips when he looked back at you.

Eddie had switched the obscure underground metal station to something quieter and more generic while he drove the two of you through the heavy rain towards Forest Hills.

The relentless spatter of rain against the roof of the van softened the low song crackling through the 8-track player while neither of you bothered filling the silence, exhaustion slowly settling into your bones as blurry buildings outside gradually gave way to blurry trees.

At some point during the drive – after you’d kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs across the dashboard – Eddie’s hand had found your jean-clad thigh and had absentmindedly started tracing lazy patterns against it while he steered with the other.

He glanced towards you briefly, quietly taking in the relaxed expression on your face while you watched the rain slide down the windows.

Meanwhile, he was anything but. An uncomfortable buzz still lingered underneath his skin while his mind replayed the two minutes he’d spent smoking alone outside the school entrance after you’d disappeared into the girls’ bathroom before the two of you finally left for the day.

Two semi-blissful minutes of nicotine and silence ruined the second a strong hand landed against his shoulder.

You gotta stop looking like she’s gonna run away, man.

The entire drive home, Eddie’s ears still rang with Zack’s words.

Your leg shifted underneath Eddie’s hand when the van stopped at a red light somewhere near the edge of town, while the windshield wipers dragged rhythmically across the glass while warm yellow streetlights smeared across the rain-soaked roads outside.

You finally turned your head away from the window and looked over at him properly when his fingers had stopped tracing shapes against your thigh at some point.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice still heavy with exhaustion.

Eddie blinked once like he’d briefly forgotten you were there before the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured automatically.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “No, you’re not.”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him through his nose while he glanced back towards the road.

“Yeah? How’dya know?”

“Because you get that little wrinkle between your eyebrows whenever you overthink too hard,” you murmured while absentmindedly brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

That pulled another soft laugh from him.

The rain filled the silence for a few seconds before your hand slowly slid over his where it rested on your thigh, intertwining your fingers together.

Eddie’s grip tightened immediately on instinct – like his body reacted before his brain could.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shifted further down into the passenger seat before looking back out at the rain. “It’s kinda cute.”

Eddie stared at you for a second too long after that.

Because somehow you’d managed to say the exact opposite of every terrible thing he’d been telling himself during the drive home.

The comfortable quiet settled over the van once again when the light turned green, and you loosened your grip on his hand so he could shift gears.

Eddie just pulled your joined hands towards the gearshift instead of letting go of you entirely.

“Real safe driving there, Munson,” you murmured teasingly while you couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at your lips when his fingers stubbornly stayed laced with yours around the shifting gear.

“Shhh,” he muttered while lazily guiding the van around a slow curve in the road. “I’m multitasking.”

Rainwater streaked across the windshield in blurry silver lines while the low crackle of the radio filled the comfortable silence between you again.

The closer the two of you got to Forest Hills, the more the tightness underneath his ribs slowly started loosening. Trailer lights glowed warmly through the rain once the familiar gravel roads finally came into view, puddles splashing underneath the tires as Eddie pulled into his usual spot outside the trailer.

For a second, neither of you moved as the rained hammered loudly against the roof of the van while warm air fogged the windows around you.

“You staying tonight?” he asked quietly, like he already knew the answer but still needed to hear it anyway, while he brought your joined hands up and pressed a soft kiss against your knuckles.

“You sure your uncle won’t mind?” you asked softly after nodding in response.

“Sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue with a small smile tugged at his lips, “I’m pretty sure Wayne likes you more than he likes me.”

“He’s literally only seen me once,” you muttered with an exaggerated purse of your lips.

Eddie snorted softly. “What’s your point?”

He pressed another soft kiss against your knuckles before muttering something about the last person to reach the trailer door being a loser. Then, without warning, he shoved his van door open with your bag already in hand and sprinted through the rain towards the trailer while quiet laughter spilled from his lips.

You stayed seated for another moment, a small smile tugging stubbornly at your lips while you calmly slipped your shoes back on before eventually following him through the rain yourself.

Because, honestly, you didn’t care if he called you loser instead of sweetheart for the rest of the evening.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes the second you stepped outside the van, forcing a startled laugh out of you while puddles splashed beneath your shoes on the gravel. Eddie had already reached the trailer steps by the time you caught up to him, damp curls sticking messily to his forehead while he fumbled dramatically with his keys.

“Move, loser,” he muttered through a grin while shielding the door with his body once he finally shoved it open.

Warm air immediately wrapped around you the second you stepped inside the trailer, carrying the familiar smells of cigarette smoke, coffee grounds, and laundry detergent. Rain hammered loudly against the thin trailer roof while Eddie dropped both your bags beside the couch and kicked the door shut behind you.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then Eddie looked at you properly and immediately snorted underneath his breath.

“What?” you asked defensively.

“You look like a drowned cat.”

“You literally look worse than me right now.”

“That’s impossible, Sweetheart. Have you seen this face?” he scoffed while grabbing the sleeve of your soaked jacket. “C’mere before you freeze to death.”

Your wet socks squeaked softly against the linoleum while he pulled you down the hallway and into his bedroom. Grimacing when you noticed your soaked socks dampening the carpet, you quickly peeled them off while Eddie basically disappeared into his built-in closet in search of a couple of towels.

When he finally turned back around – after taking far too long searching for two stupid towels – he found you standing in front of his dresser with your hand buried in one of the drawers.

Eddie immediately stilled.

You’d already pulled one of his shirts and a pair of boxers free almost absentmindedly – like you’d done it a hundred times before.

Your eyebrows lifted slightly when you looked over your shoulder and found him staring at you.

“Uh…” you blinked softly. “Is it okay if I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed out quickly before finally snapping out of it enough to hand you one of the towels. “Yeah, of course.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d slept over; it wasn’t even the first time you’d borrowed his clothes.

What caught him off guard was the way you moved through his room so naturally now – the way you already knew where he kept his shirts and underwear, how comfortable you looked standing in the middle of his space.

Like you already belonged there.

“You wanna take a shower?” he asked quietly when you turned back towards the dresser to grab another change of clothes – for him this time, which definitely didn’t make his heart somersault somewhere inside his chest.

“Ugh, that’d be amazing,” you groaned dramatically while tilting your head back. “Promise I won’t use all the hot water.”

That pulled another small smile from Eddie while he took the extra clothes from your hands before tossing them onto the bed beside him. Then he stepped closer again, hands finding your hips as he gently pulled you towards him until he was close enough to kiss you softly.

“I don’t mind taking a cold shower,” he murmured against your lips before pressing another gentle kiss against your rain-soaked temple. “You’re gonna warm up my feet anyway.”

A laugh immediately escaped you. “You better keep those dogs away from me, Munson.”

By the time you finally reappeared from the steamy confinement you’d turned the bathroom into, Eddie had already settled himself at the round kitchen table with his trusted metal lunchbox and a stack of plates beside it.

“I ordered pizza,” he murmured while tilting his head back the second he heard you step closer.

“Spicy Chicken?” you asked while wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders from behind.

“You know it, baby.”

His fingers continued expertly rolling the joint before he licked it shut and gently leaned it beside the nearby ashtray. Then his hand disappeared into the front pocket of his jeans, fishing out a lighter and a couple crumpled bills for the pizza delivery.

“You mind opening the door while I shower?” he asked while standing from the kitchen table.

“Of course not, Eds,” you whispered before placing a soft kiss against the crown of his damp hair. “Go, baby.”

You watched him disappear down the hallway before the soft slam of the bathroom door echoed through the trailer. A few seconds later, the old pipes groaned loudly before the shower sputtered to life somewhere behind the thin walls. The trailer suddenly felt strangely quiet without Eddie’s constant presence filling it.

Rain hammered steadily against the roof while warm yellow light spilled softly across the living room, illuminating the abandoned pizza menus on the counter, his scattered lighters beside the stereo, and the flannel he’d carelessly thrown over the back of the couch earlier that morning.

You wandered slowly through the familiar space while absentmindedly rubbing the sleeves of his oversized shirt between your fingers.

Your fingers brushed across the stack of records leaning beside the player before your eyes drifted towards the hallway again at the sound of Eddie quietly singing something underneath the running water. At first the words were lost beneath the shower and the rain hammering against the trailer roof, but as you listened more carefully, you slowly recognized the melody. He was singing I'm Not Awake Yet. The realization immediately pulled a small smile onto your lips.

For a moment, you simply stood there listening to the soft sounds echoing through the trailer; the rain hammering steadily against the roof, the shower continuing to run somewhere down the hall, and the low harmonious notes slipping from beneath the bathroom door.

It made the Munson home feel strangely alive around you – not because of the music, or because of the weather.

But because every corner of it carried little pieces of Eddie: the overflowing ashtray on the kitchen counter he’d forgotten to empty before leaving for school; the pile of campaign notes abandoned on the coffee table, the guitar picks scattered across practically every available surface.

Your eyes lingered on them for a moment longer before a soft smile tugged at your lips. Because somewhere between the record shop, rainy drives home, and evenings spent squeezed together on worn-out couch cushions, the trailer had stopped feeling like Eddie’s home.

It had started feeling a little like yours, too.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and all but the last few hours of Thursday were filled with fleeting kisses, lingering stares across school hallways, and teasing banter from Jeff and Dustin, and they still somehow passed in the blink of an eye.

Eddie’s socked footsteps thudded softly across the wooden floors of your living room despite the fact you’d already reminded him twice that he didn’t need to take his sneakers off when he came inside. This was only the second time he’d been at your house, yet he still wandered further into the room like he was more than familiar with it, and his attention drifted on the row of photo albums carefully tucked into the lower shelf of the TV cabinet.

“Any embarrassing photos of you in those?” he murmured, a toothy grin already spread across his face.

“Not really, no,” you replied jokingly as you kneeled and took one out. “I was an adorable baby, for your information.”

Eddie immediately shoved the thought aside before it had the chance to fully form; he refused to think about future babies with tiny curls and little leather jackets.

Especially after only two fucking weeks of dating.

Jesus H. Christ.

“Yeah?” he snorted as casually as he could while dropping onto the couch, doing his absolute best to stop the absurd thoughts of returning. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

A soft chuckle slipped from your lips as you knelt beside the coffee table and pulled the large baby-pink album free. You flipped through the pages, skipping past ultrasound reports and blurry sonogram pictures until your fingers stilled on a photograph of your very pregnant mother while your father stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her bump.

“Here,” you said as you passed him the album before settling down beside him on the couch.

Eddie’s brown eyes lingered on the page for a moment, taking in your parents’ faces as he quietly realised you were somehow a perfect mix of both of them.

Then he continued turning the pages – the bigger the baby version of you got, the bigger the smile on his face became.

A wrinkly newborn turned into a chubby-cheeked toddler with bright eyes and an endless collection of ridiculous outfits.

“Jesus, you were adorable,” he chuckled when his eyes landed on a picture of a tiny version of you happily suckling on a dark blue sandal while your discarded pacifier sat abandoned beside you on the carpet. “What happened?”

You rolled your eyes immediately, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your attempt at looking offended.

He turned another page before stilling when a small ziplock bag glued to the paper caught his attention. A few strands of hair tucked inside. His eyes lingered on the curly My first haircut! your mother had written beside it. Before he could stop himself, his thumb brushed softly across the plastic.

Something warm spread through his chest. When he finally pulled his eyes away from the page and looked over at you, there was a softness in his expression that he hadn’t quite managed to hide.

Your gaze lingered on him for a few silent moments before a mischievous smile slowly spread across your lips.

“Stop thinking about getting me pregnant, you freak.”

Eddie’s cheeks immediately turned a violent shade of pink.

“I’m not!” he choked out, absolutely horrified at your words.

“You so are,” you laughed, leaning in to place a quick kiss against the corner of his lips, fully aware that wasn’t going to help his situation at all. “Let’s try surviving high school, and maybe college, before we start thinking about having babies, hm?”

Eddie opened his mouth to defend himself, only for his brain to completely short-circuit at the sound of two sets of footsteps echoing through the hallway. A second later, the soft clink of keys hitting the glass tray beside the front door followed.

“Who’s having a baby?” your dad asked as he stepped into the room, his brows furrowing before his eyes landed on the two of you sitting on the couch.

“Oh.”

His body immediately stilled. For one agonising second, his eyes remained fixed on Eddie. Then another second, then a third.

Eddie could physically feel himself shrinking further into the couch cushions.

The furrow between your father’s brows hadn’t disappeared as he continued blinking towards him.

Your mother, on the other hand, simply laughed warmly.

“You must be Eddie!” she exclaimed excitedly as he placed her purse on the dining room table before making a beeline straight towards the couch.

Before Eddie had the chance to stand up – or formulate a coherent thought – she had already wrapped him in a hug. Meanwhile, his wide eyes remained hopelessly locked on your father over her shoulder.

Eddie wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. There could not have been a worse possible moment for your parents to get home.

Ever so slowly, the furrow between your father’s eyebrows softened before his mouth finally pulled into a broad grin – the kind of grin that immediately told Eddie he’d spent the last thirty seconds panicking over absolutely nothing.

“Jesus, boy,” he laughed, shaking his head as he turned towards the kitchen. “You look like a deer caught in the headlights.”

Eddie blinked slowly – once, then twice again.

Slowly, he turned towards you when your mother finally released his shoulders.

“He smiled,” he whispered, still blinking. “Your dad smiled.”

“Were you expecting him to challenge you to a duel?” your mother teased as she pinched his flushed cheeks before following your father into the kitchen.

You remained comfortably curled up on the couch, trying – and failing miserably – to muffle your laughter behind your hand while your gaze stayed glued to Eddie’s increasingly horrified expression.

“I’m gonna kill myself,” he muttered, replaying the last five minutes in his head.

“Before we have dinner?” your father called from the kitchen, the grin in his voice only seemed to widen when he heard Eddie’s voice.

“Assuming you’re not eating at home?” your mother added as she poured herself a small glass of wine.

“Would that be okay?” you asked softly, leaning over the armrest of the couch.

“Of course, honey.”

The nervous metalhead continued staring blankly towards the kitchen for another moment before finally turning back towards you.

“Your parents are making fun of me,” he murmured once their teasing had finally sunk in.

“They like you,” you replied, laughing softly at his bewildered expression.

“They’ve known me for less than ten minutes.”

“Your point being?”

His curls bounced as he looked back towards the kitchen again, taking in the way your father pressed a soft kiss against your mother’s temple before opening the fridge.

“…I don’t know how to handle this.”

However, to Eddie’s surprise, having dinner with your parents turned out to be something he actually could handle.

All of the contingency plans he’d spent days constructing melted away as his ringed hand curled around the can of beer your father had offered him.

Your mother – who had apparently decided to spare him from being the centre of attention – gestured animatedly with her fork as she told the plot of the movie they’d seen earlier that evening. You sat with your elbows propped on the table, your half-finished plate momentarily forgotten as you laughed at whatever ridiculous scene your mother was describing.

Eddie leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his beer before his attention drifted away from your mother and settling on you instead; on the way your eyes glimmered beneath the warm overhead light, and the way your lips pressed together in a losing battle to jeep another laugh from escaping.

It felt easy – far easier then he’d ever imagined it would. The homemade dinner, the warm light above the table, and the laughter echoing through the room made something unfamiliar spread through his chest. And for once, he wasn’t worried about saying to wrong thing, or waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Eddie was so busy thinking about how lucky he felt to be sitting there that he never noticed the softness that had settled across his features.

Your father did.

Because while your mother continued talking and you laughed beside him, his attention had quietly shifted towards Eddie – towards the warm expression that crossed his face whenever his eyes found you.

He wrapped his hand around his own beer and took a slow sip before he turned his attention back towards his wife – a small, satisfied grin still lingered at the corners of his mouth.

The trailer park had long since gone quiet by the time Eddie finally got home.

The television hummed softly from the living room while rainwater occasionally dripped from the gutters outside, and somewhere down the hallway the old pipes groaned loudly while Wayne washed away the remnants of the rare early shift he’d worked that day.

Eddie sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, the stretched cord snaking around the couch and all the way down the hallway – it was, unfortunately, as far as it would go.

“Miss me already?” you teased softly from the other side of the line when you picked up.

“Always, Sweetheart,” he shot back automatically, though the words held far more truth than humour. He wrapped the phone cord around his finger before continuing in a softer voice. “Wanted to let you know I got home in one piece.”

“Good,” you murmured, the smile obvious in your voice. “I’d hate having to explain to my parents that I accidentally got their new favourite person killed.”

Eddie snorted. “Pretty sure I’m not your dad’s favourite person.”

“Oh, believe me,” you chuckled softly. “You are.”

He heard the rustle of bedsheets from your end of the line as you shifted onto your back, your own finger curling around the phone cord while you stared up at the ceiling.

Eddie shook his head, smiling like a fool at nothing in particular as he thought back to how surprisingly easy and well the evening had gone.

“Still can’t believe he offered me a beer.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” you laughed. “What’s the big deal? Wayne gives you beer all the time.”

“Wayne’s my dad,” Eddie clicked his tongue. “Totally different situation, babe.”

The warm sound of your laughter echoed through the receiver, spreading a soft tingling buzz beneath his skin as the smile on his lips widened.

He remained completely unaware that the bathroom pipes had stopped groaning several minutes ago.

Behind the closed door, Wayne had long since finished drying off. Instead of heading to the pullout couch, he’d found himself standing quietly in the steamy bathroom, listening to half a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be hearing.

Leaning against the sink, he crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him he was invading his nephew’s privacy. His eyes remained fixed on the dripping tiles in front of him as he blinked slowly and let Eddie’s words sink in.

Wayne tried telling himself the soft tug in his chest came from hearing Eddie call him dad instead of his uncle – something the boy had never said to his face before.

Definitely not because he felt relieved knowing the curse of their last name hadn’t followed Eddie to your house that night.

“I really liked your mom,” he heard Eddie murmur from his bedroom. “Your dad too.”

A brief pause followed before he continued.

“They’re kinda impossible not to like.”

Wayne’s weathered hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose as a quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, finally, he pushed himself away from the sink and stepped out the bathroom.

Eddie tilted his head when he heard the bathroom door creak open and Wayne step into the hallway. He lifted a hand in greeting and quietly mouthed your name as he pointed his finger to the phone.

“Tell her I said hey,” the older man murmured as he continued towards the living room.

“You heard that?” Eddie asked, sitting upright again as a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Hug him goodnight for me.”

He let out a quiet snort and nodded, even though you couldn’t see him, before promising you he would.

The rain continued tapping softly against the trailer roof. And for a moment, neither of you said anything, both perfectly content just existing together through the phone line.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said after a while. “Do you think your dad would let me kidnap you for a weekend away?”

“Eddie,” you laughed, “he literally said it was fine if you slept over.”

“I’m pretty sure that was a test, Sweetheart,” he murmured absentmindedly, distracted by the plans he’d been turning over his head for the last few days.

The quiet sound of your laughter echoed through the receiver, follow by the rustle of sheets as you rolled onto your side.

“Weekend away, you said?”

“Yeah,” he unwound the phone cord from around his finger before immediately wrapping it around again. “There’s this, uh…”

Eddie exhaled softly and leaned his head back against the wall.

“There’s this band playing in Indianapolis on Saturday,” he continued. “And I thought we could make a little trip out of it.”

You bit your lip to stop the grin threatening to take over your face.

“Is this your way of saying you wanna take me to a motel?” you teased. “First you wanna get me pregnant, now this?”

Eddie slapped a hand over his face, dragging his rings down his cheeks as he tried – and failed – not to laugh.

“C’mon, babe,” he groaned dramatically.

 A few seconds of shared laughter passed before you finally answered.

“Yeah. I think they’d be okay with it.”

“Oh, of course we are, honey!”

Your mother’s voice suddenly echoed through the line. Your eyes widened immediately as you sat upright faster than should’ve been possible. You clamped a hand over the receiver and shouted downstairs for her to get off the phone.

“Jesus,” you groaned once she’d finally hung up. “I can’t believe she’s been listening this whole time.”

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, slapping a hand over his face again. “I’m definitely killing myself tonight.”

As if it had done so especially for the two of you, the grey skies of the last few days had finally given way to a sunny – if slightly chilly – Saturday morning when Eddie pulled into your driveway. It was still early enough that the rest of Hawkins slept peacefully while the van’s engine rattled softly at the curb as he waited for you to emerge from behind the front door.

He was busy fiddling with the radio when a sudden tap against his window pulled a startled yelp from his throat. Eddie whipped around so fast he nearly smacked his hand against the horn.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the glass.

You only laughed and blew him a kiss through the window before making your way towards the back. the rear doors creaked loudly as you pulled them open and tossed your backpack inside before shutting them again with a firm push.

The passenger door flew open the second you reached for it. “Get in.”

“Good morning to you too, Eds,” you smiled as you climbed into the van.

“You almost killed me,” he muttered, shooting you a dramatic scowl before checking his mirrors and pulling away from the curb.

“Don’t worry,” you teased. “My mom would kill me if I did.”

He just shook his head, messy bed curls bouncing with the movement.

“Good,” he muttered, shooting you a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road. “At least one person looking out for me.”

You just chuckled at his dramatics and turned your attention towards the window before softly asking if it was okay to turn the volume up a little. Eddie gave you an approving nod, even though you couldn’t see it, and reached for the knob before you had the chance to.

His ringed fingers drummed lazily against the steering wheel as he bobbed his head along to the music, while you kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs across the bench seat between the two of you.

It didn’t take long before the familiar You’re Living Hawkins sign appeared by the side of the road, and you watched it disappear in the side mirror.

The first hour passed easily while the radio crackled softly between stations and the open highway slowly replaced the farmland surrounding Hawkins and its neighbouring towns.

At some point, Eddie glanced over and noticed you’d stolen his flannel from the backseat and folded it beneath your head like a pillow.

“Comfortable, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed lazily as you looked over at him. “But we can switch at the next stop if you want.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said, shaking his head.

“You hate sitting still for too long.”

Eddie considered that for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Actually, that’s a pretty good point.”

“Thought so,” you chuckled under your breath.

“Don’t sound so pleased with yourself, Sweetheart.”

“You only say that because we both know that I know you better than you know yourself.”

Eddie shot you a quick look before turning his attention back to the road. A moment later, he flicked on the turn signal when he spotted the little gas station icon beneath an upcoming exit sign.

“No comment,” he muttered.

Before you could tease him any further, he gave your thigh a quick squeeze and returned his hand to the steering wheel as he took the exist.

After an entire hour of sitting still, your joints cracked loudly when you climbed out of the passenger seat once Eddie had parked in front of the gas station.

The fluorescent bulbs buzzed and flickered beneath the yellowed canopy overhead, reflecting faint glimmers across the oil-black puddles and rainbow slicks that stained the concrete below.

The place was grimy. The brick façade of the store was streaked with diesel stains and the ghosts of old graffiti. Inside, the scuffed linoleum floor stuck slightly to the soles of your shoes while crowded shelves sagged beneath dusty motor oil cans, limp bags of chips, and a cracked candy display. It smelled like hot asphalt, deep exhaustion, and coffee that had gone stale hours ago.

“You want anything?” Eddie asked over his shoulder as he stepped towards the coffee machine. “Black coffee? Bad cappuccino?”

“Just coffee.”

“Anything else, Sweetheart?”

“Coffee,” you repeated, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath, already pulling a paper cup from the stack beside the machine.

The next thing you knew, Eddie had set down two cups of steaming, stale black coffee on the counter before disappearing between the crowded aisles. When he returned a few minutes later, his arms were overflowing with more snacks than either of you could realistically eat in a single day.

The teenage cashier shot you a look suspiciously similar to the one you were already giving her.

“Jesus, Eds,” you blinked at the pile accumulating on the counter before taking the plastic bag from the cashier’s hand. “I’m sorry about him. Here, lemme do it.”

“What?” he asked, looking genuinely offended. “I’m a growing man. I need my road trip provisions.”

“We’re literally an hour away from Indianapolis,” you deadpanned as you shoved yet another pack of beef jerky into the bag.

“Exactly,” Eddie pointed at you like you’d just proven his argument. “We have absolutely no idea what could happen in that hour.”

The cashier shot him an unimpressed look, loudly chewing her gum as she shook her head and continued punching numbers into the register.

“What if we get stranded?” Eddie asked, tilting his head as though he was daring you to question his logic.

“On Interstate 70?” the cashier replied before you had the chance.

Eddie stared at her for a moment before taking out his wallet.

Then, he muttered something deeply offensive beneath his breath and turned on his heel, the plastic bag crinkled loudly in his grip as he made his way back towards the van.

“Goddamn attitude,” he complained while yanking the passenger door open and climbing inside.

“She’s right, though,” you teased as you slipped into the driver’s seat and plucked the keys from his hand.

He pretended to be offended, crossing his arms over his chest and staring dramatically out of the passenger window while you brought the engine back to life.

His little act lasted less than two minutes.

By the time you’d merged back onto the highway, he was already poking at your side and generally making a nuisance of himself.

“You try tickling me again and I’ll push you out of the door while I’m doing sixty,” you muttered, slapping his ringed hand away.

“That’s attempted murder,” he informed.

“Self-defence,” you corrected, stealing a quick glance in his direction. “The cashier will be my witness.”

“You can’t just bring strangers into our argument!”

“Fine,” you shrugged, chuckling under your breath. “Pretty sure Wayne would happily be my character witness.”

“No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he will. He likes me more than he likes you.”

“Fuck,” Eddie huffed, dragging a dramatic hand through his hair. “You’re right.”

He slumped further into his seat.

“He does like you more.”

The next hour passed in the blink of an eye. It disappeared beneath quick banter, failed attempts at starting unfair tickle wars, hands repeatedly being slapped away from places they weren’t supposed to be, and far too much disgusting gas station coffee. Before you knew it, the flat stretches of highway had given way to taller buildings and heavier traffic. The Indianapolis skyline rose on the horizon beyond the windshield.

You cracked your neck as the van rolled to a stop at a red light, much to Eddie’s visible dismay.

It had been a while since you’d last been to Indianapolis, and somewhere during the two-hour drive you’d forgotten just how stiff your body got from sitting still for that long.

Beside you, Eddie drummed his fingers impatiently against his knee while he waited for the light to change.

“Where to, Munson?” you murmured as the traffic light finally flicked back to green and you merged into the flow of cars.

“Take a right here,” he replied immediately, pointing towards the next intersection.

He continued murmuring directions and punctuating them with the occasional point of his finger until you finally found an empty parking spot large enough to accommodate his van. His knee bounced frantically while you peered over the centre console, one arm draped over the back of his seat as you did your best o parallel park.

You finally killed the engine with a soft exhale before letting your head fall back against the headrest and turning to find Eddie.

Except he had already thrown his door open and practically launched himself out of the van, seemingly too excited to sit still for another second.

The passenger door slammed shut behind him. A moment later, he appeared beside your window and examined your parking job with a thoughtful purse of his lips.

“You park better than I do,” he informed you with and nodded in approval, pulling the driver’s door open and holding out a hand. “C’mon. I planned a bunch of stuff for us to do and we don’t have much time.”

“We’re literally spending the entire weekend here, Eddie,” you replied, shaking your head as you stepped out of the van. “We have all the time in the world.”

“You forget that I need at least half a day to browse the record store.”

“Yeah, okay,” you conceded immediately. “Fair point.”

Eddie grabbed your hand and started pulling you down the street.

“Where are we going first?”

“You’ll see,” he murmured distractedly, stroking his thumb against the back of your hand.

“Eddie.”

“You’ll see.”

The first stop had been a warm, leafy independent bookstore.

The lighting inside had been soft and slightly dusty, and the clerks had been friendly and chatty as they recommended unexpected titles from behind towering shelves.

The bell above the door rang softly as you stepped back onto the sidewalk, Eddie carrying a plastic bag filled with considerably more books than you’d originally intended to buy.

The fact that he kept retrieving the ones you’d put back and throwing money at the clerk before you could argue had certainly contributed to the problem.

“Don’t do that again, Eds,” you murmured quietly, shooting him a look that was meant to be annoyed but ended up far warmer than you’d intended.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Sweetheart,” he replied, a broad grin already spreading across his face as his free hand found yours.

Before you could argue, he tugged you down the sidewalk towards a nearby diner.

“I’m paying for lunch,” you murmured as the two of you approached the entrance.

“No, you’re not,” he replied instantly, shaking his head as he pulled the door open and stepped aside so you could walk in first.

“Yes, I am,” you muttered, shooting him a look over your shoulder.

Eddie laughed quietly under his breath, still shaking his head as he placed a hand against the small of your back and guided you towards an empty booth near the back of the diner.

“You can buy me lunch when we’re eighty.”

“Doubt you’ll let me when the time comes,” you replied, rolling your eyes as you slid onto the worn vinyl seat.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed as he settled into the booth across from you, “when we’re eighty, I’m gonna let you buy me all kinds of things.”

“Oh, really?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned teasingly, pushing the menu closer towards you. “Dentures, canes, the whole shebang.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips refused to disappear as you opened the menu. “How lucky am I.”

“Very,” Eddie replied without missing a beat.

The diner around you buzzed softly with conversation and the clatter of dishes while sunlight streamed through the windows and painted warm rectangles across the checkered floor.

The waitress appeared beside your table a moment later, coffee pot in hand and an easy smile plastered on her face.

After she had taken your order and disappeared towards the kitchen, Eddie immediately reached across the table and stole one of the little cream cups from beside your coffee.

“You know,” he started casually, peeling back the foil lid, “there’s this record store a couple blocks away.”

“Yeah?” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I figured we’d spent some time there first.”

He poured the cream into his coffee before continuing.

“Then there’s a comic shop around the corner. And after that we can drop our stuff off at the motel before the show.”

Your eyebrows slowly rose as you took a sip of the steaming coffee in your cup. “You’ve planned the whole day, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Eddie.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he dragged a hand through his hair, unable to contain a grin from spreading on his lips. “We drove two hours to get here. I wasn’t gonna wing it.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.

Eddie dragged you through a record store large enough to make him forget how to speak, a cramped comic shop tucked between two brick buildings, and a second bookstore that smelled faintly of mildew and old paper.

Somewhere in between, the two of you split a basket of fries neither of you had been hungry enough to order, checked into the motel, and argued over who was carrying the growing pile of bags.

Before either of you realised it, the afternoon sun had given way to evening. The Indianapolis skyline glowed gold beneath the setting sun while the line outside the venue curled around the block. Eddie had been practically vibrating beside you since you’d left the motel, his excitement impossible to hide as more and more band shirts appeared around the two of you.

Eddie had spent the entire walk towards the venue talking a mile a minute about previous shows he’d seen, bands he’d missed, and a guitar solo he swore had permanently altered his brain chemistry when he was fourteen. By the time the two of you finally stepped through the doors, his excitement had become impossible not to share.

The room breathed with sound.

Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, moving like a single sweaty organism beneath the relentless pulse of music.

The low ceiling amplified everything, making the bass thrum deep in your ribs and the snare crack like a whip above the crowd as the two of you pushed your way inside. Stage lights carved the darkness into hot slices of red and amber, while a hazy veil of cigarette smoke and fog machine residue softened the edges and caught the beams overhead.

The air hung thick and warm around you, carrying the scent of spilled beer, cheap whiskey, and the metallic tang of adrenaline.

Eddie had taken it upon himself to wrap an arm securely around your waist as he guided the two of you deeper into the venue, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease while his shoulders brushed against strangers.

He leaned further into you when the two of you came to a stop, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear.

“Can’t wait for the next band,” he said loudly over the music and chatter surrounding the two of you. “You’re gonna love them. I just know it.”

“Yeah?” you shouted back, glancing over your shoulder and catching the familiar glimmer that had settled in his eyes.

“Hell yeah.” A broad grin spread across his face before he pressed a quick kiss against your temple. “You want anything to drink?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Alright, Sweetheart.”

He gave your waist a gentle squeeze before shrugging off his battle jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“You stay right here, okay?”

“I’m not gonna disappear, Eddie,” you said, shaking your head.

“You better not. If I come back and you’ve wandered off, I’m putting a leash on you.”

“I’m not Gareth,” you deadpanned. “I don’t need a leash.”

Eddie’s laughter immediately mixed with the noise surrounding the two of you, loud and warm as he threw his head back.

“Fair point.”

He gave your waist another squeeze and pressed one last kiss against your temple before reluctantly pulling away. Still grinning, he disappeared into the crowd.

You shook your head fondly before pulling his battle jacket a little tighter around your shoulders. Left alone, you finally took a moment to properly look around.

The venue seemed even smaller now that Eddie wasn’t standing directly in front of you. The people continued pouring in through the front doors, their conversations blending into a constant hum beneath the music playing through the speakers. Denim jackets brushed against leather ones, patches and band logos flashing underneath the red lights as strangers squeezed past each other in search for better spots.

On stage, a roadie disappeared behind a stack of amplifiers while another adjusted a microphone stand. The crowd shifted closer almost immediately, anticipation rippling through the room like electricity.

Your eyes drifted towards the stage again. It wasn’t really your scene; not the way it was Eddie’s. You didn’t know the band that was about to play, couldn’t name half the patches sewn onto the jackets surrounding you, and had no idea why everyone seemed so excited.

But watching Eddie’s face light up every time he had talked about it had been enough. Because somewhere between the bookstores, the records shops, and the endless rambling about albums you’d never heard of, his excitement had somehow become yours.

And then your excitement instantly soured when the drunk guy beside you took a double take and had seemingly decided you looked bored and alone.

You dragged your eyes away from the stage and shot him an annoyed look, tugging Eddie’s jacket tighter around your shoulders.

“Piss off,” you murmured loud enough, your eyebrows settling into a deep scowl. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

He tried catching your attention a few more times, talking at you like you were actually listening to him.

In the three minutes he’d been bothering you, you’d already told him twice that you weren’t alone, pointed vaguely towards the bar, and huffed out several increasingly obvious hints for him to leave you alone.

And yet he remained firmly planted beside you.

“You sure you’re not here by yourself?” he asked again, trying to lean closer before you pushed him back.

“For the last time, no.”

The guy opened his mouth to continue whatever point he was trying to make, but then his eyes shifted somewhere over your shoulder instead.

You didn’t need to turn around to know Eddie had finally returned – not when a cold beer suddenly appeared in front of your face and his other arm immediately snaked around your waist.

“Everything alright here?” he asked, glancing down at you before his eyes flickered towards the stranger.

“Seriously?” the guy raised an eyebrow at Eddie before looking back at you. “You said boyfriend, not consolation prize.”

Behind you, you felt Eddie tense. His arm tightened around your waist while his mouth fell open, clearly preparing to tell the guy exactly where he could shove that comment, but you beat him to it.

“What did you just say?”

The stranger blinked. The scowl already settled between your eyebrows deepened, and the curt tone in your voice bordered on cold.

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did,” you replied, taking a small step forward. “I just wanted to make sure you were stupid enough to say it twice.”

For the first time since he’d started bothering you, the guy looked uncertain. You pressed a finger sharply against the centre of his chest, your nail diffing into the fabric of his shirt.

“Drag your sorry ass out of my fucking face before I slap you.”

The guy stared at you for a second, then another, and whatever smartass response he’d been preparing seemed to die somewhere behind his eyes. He raised both hands in surrender before taking a step backwards.

“Relax.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” you muttered back.

He wisely decided not to comment on it and quickly disappeared into the crowd. The second he was gone, the tension drained from your shoulders.

You took a long sip of beer, then another, before you finally turned around and finding Eddie already staring at you.

The music continued thundering around the two of you, and the crowd swayed beneath the flashing red and amber stage lights.

Eddie’s eyebrows slowly disappeared behind his bangs as they climbed higher, big brown eyes blinking once, then again.

“That was so hot.”

You immediately groaned, heat spreading across your neck and down your chest. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, seriously,” he replied, pulling you closer against his chest. “You just defended my honour.”

“You don’t have any honour.”

“That somehow makes it hotter,” he shot you a toothy grin. “You threatened to slap someone for me.”

“He deserved it,” you muttered under your breath, your eyebrows furrowing at the mere thought of the guy.

“Yeah, but you did it for me,” Eddie replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Something in his expression softened, his eyes searched yours for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m in love with a terrifying woman.”

“What?” The furrow between your brows melted instantly, your voice coming out quieter than it had all day.

Eddie froze, his expression faltered as the words replayed in his head, and a deep flush immediately spread across his cheeks.

For a moment, he simply stared at you. Then, slowly, the familiar glimmer returned to his eyes, and a shy smile tugged at his lips as he tightened his hold around your waist.

“You heard me,” he replied softly.

You continued staring at him, something warm and overwhelming tugging at your chest. Your free hand curled into the front of his shirt before you pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, and for a second, he seemed too stunned to react before finally melting into it.

When you pulled back, your breathing slightly uneven, you opened your eyes to find his already fixed on your face.

“I’m in love with you too,” you confessed softly, your hand leaving his shirt to cradle his cheek instead.

For once, Eddie looked completely speechless.

The six words you’d whispered to him replayed over and over in his mind, even after you’d turned your attention back to the stage as the band stepped into the spotlight and the first chords echoed through the venue.

He’d been waiting to see them live for what felt like years. And yet there he was: one arm curled tightly around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head as he tried – and failed – not to spiral over what you’d said.

I’m in love with you too.

The words continued looping through his head louder than the music itself. Every time he thought he’d finally gotten a grip on himself, they came rushing back and made his stomach flip all over again.

The motel room was nothing special – faded wallpaper stained yellow by years of cigarette smoke, a humming air conditioner struggling to cool the room, and two lamps casting warm pools of light across the warm carpet. But after hours spent surrounded by people, it felt strangely peaceful.

You’d disappeared into the bathroom to wash away the layers of sweat and cigarette smoke the concert had left behind, leaving Eddie alone in the room for the first time all day.

He was sprawled across the bed, his hands folded across his chest and his eyes fixed on the ceiling while he waited for your return.

I’m in love with you too.

The words continued replaying in an endless loop, drowning out every other thought that tried to steal his attention away from them.

A quiet breath escaped Eddie as he blinked up at the ugly water stains that spread across the ceiling and dragged a hand through his hair before falling back onto his chest.

Yeah. He was a gone man.

The bathroom door creaked open, spilling steam into the room as you stepped out. Eddie tried – really tried – not to sit upright the second he heard you move further into the room.

You’d changed into one of his oversized shirts and were using the old motel towel to dry the excess water from your hair.

He tried convincing himself that his heart hadn’t skipped a beat the moment his eyes landed on you.

“Hey, you,” you whispered softly. Tossing the damp towel onto the floor, you shot Eddie a small smile as you climbed onto the bed with him.

“Hey,” he whispered back, rolling onto his side, he propped his head up on his palm and let his eyes trail across your face.

They lingered there for a second too long, making a bashful smile tug at your lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replied softly. “Just appreciating the beauty in front of me.”

You immediately looked away, but that only made his grin widen.

“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath.

“Never.”

A scoff escaped you before you could stop it, and you gave him a weak slap on the arm. Eddie caught your hand before you could pull it away and tugged you closer against his chest as he rolled onto his back. His free hand immediately found your side, mercilessly tickling you until you were gasping for air.

When you finally managed to swat his hand away, a satisfied smile spread across his lips as he took in the way your nose had scrunched up in annoyance.

Before you could retaliate, his fingers slipped through your damp hair and gently guided you back down towards him. The kiss he pressed against your lips was soft and unhurried.

“I’m serious,” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

Blinking bashfully at him, warmth crept from your cheeks down to your chest. Your fingers toyed absentmindedly with the fabric of his shirt as your gaze drifted downwards. Eddie slipped a hand beneath your chin and gently tipped your head back up until your eyes met his again. Then he leaned in, his lips lingering softly against yours. Your grip tightened on his shirt as you kissed him back, slow and unhurried.

A quiet breath escaped him as he somehow managed to pull you even closer against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles against your scalp, reluctant to let the moment end. When you finally pulled away, you pressed a few quick kisses to his lips before opening your eyes.

“I’m ready,” you whispered.

Eddie immediately stilled beneath you, his fingers faltering and eyes blinking up at you.

“No, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head before letting out a slow breath. “Not like this. Not in this shitty hotel.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped you at his choice of words.

He released your hair and dragged a hand through his own and continued before you could respond.

“You deserve rose petals,” he started, glancing away for a moment before his eyes found yours again. “Candles. Chocolates. Hell, anything’s better than… this.”

Your expression softened. “I don’t care about any of that, Eds.”

“You should,” he whispered, looking away again. “You deserve more than this.”

“I don’t care,” you murmured. A small smile tugged at your lips as you pulled his face back towards yours. “As long as it’s with you.”

Eddie blinked slowly, like his brain had short-circuited all over again.

That seemed to happen a lot lately.

“You drive me absolutely insane,” he whispered, though it sounded more like a realisation than a complaint.

“You love every second of it, though,” you replied, unable to stop the soft chuckle that escaped you.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he confessed.

His hand came up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face before he leaned in and stole another kiss.

Eddie gently rolled the two of you, laying you on your back as he started trembling on top of you.

“I think I’m gonna die,” he mumbled against your lips, fingers twitching against your waist. “Are you absolutely sure?”

That pulled a soft chuckle out of you. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time, too.”

Eddie’s milky cheeks immediately turned into a deep shade of red.

“N-no,” he confessed, and swallowed a dry lump down his throat. “I’m just… scared to ruin this for you.”

The chuckle immediately died in your throat as his words reached your ears. Your expression softened when you noticed the nervous glimmer in his eyes and brought a hand to cradle his face.

“Stop being so mean to yourself,” you whispered with a faint furrow settling between your eyebrows. “You could never ruin anything for me.”

You dragged your thumb across his bottom lip, pulling it down until it hung open. Flickering your gaze towards his. Eddie’s weight between your legs felt warm and familiar, even though the two of you hadn’t been in that position that often before, and spread a satisfying buzz underneath your skin. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, utterly helpless under whatever spell he was sure you’d put on him. He swallowed another dry lump down his throat before he licked at his lips, accidentally swiping his tongue against your thumb when he did.

You gulped at the brief feeling, sparks bursting in between your legs.

“We… we’ll go slow, okay?” he managed to breath out, eyes blinking slowly as he searched your face for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. “And we stop whenever you want, no questions asked.”

“Okay,” you whispered back, followed by faint nod.

Your eyes fluttered close when Eddie leaned in to kiss your eyelids, warm breath ghosting over your skin as he trailed kisses down your cheek until he reached your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against you, pulling quiet whimpers from you as he gave you the occasional nip before smoothing the spot he’d bitten with his tongue.

Beneath the hem of your shirt, Eddie’s thumb traced lazy circles of electricity against your skin while his mouth found the other side of your neck. His hand trailed up, warm and twitching against your belly, until his fingers stopped against the swell of your breast. His breath hitched, and his entire body stilled for a split second before he picked up from where he’d stopped.

Eddie was the first to pull away, dark brown eyes swimming in something indescribable as he looked down at you.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he whispered, not giving you time to answer and already lowering himself back to steal another kiss.

His tongue was warm and slick when it pushed against your lower lip, spreading a thin layer of spit on the skin before he pushed into your mouth. A soft exhale escaped him as the hand under your shirt dared to trail further, fingertips reaching your hardened nipple. His thumb and pointed finger closed gently around the swollen pebble, alternating between giving you tentative pulls and rolling your nipple between his digits.

“Please, E-Eddie,” you murmured breathlessly as you broke the kiss. “I need more.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered against your skin. He had his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, almost like it pained him to hear the desperate tone in your voice. “But I gotta get you wet and ready.”

You looked up at him with your own eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip hanging low as your chest heaved up and down while he continued his gentle assault on your nipple.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that, Sweetheart,” he choked out, dragging his free hand through his hair and pulling at the roots. “You’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”

A disbelieving, breathless escaped you at his words, followed by a broken whine when his warm fingers let go of your nipple.

“Sshhh,” he mumbled lowly, pushing himself off of you until he kneeled between your legs. “Just gonna take my clothes off.”

You pushed yourself up, twitching hands reaching for his shirt and hastily pulling it off of his frame. You threw it somewhere behind him without thinking twice about it, and immediately reached for your own and repeated the process. Eddie’s eyes immediately trailed down your naked frame, gaze lingering a second too long on your heaving chest and hard nipples before you ultimately wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him back down.

“Need your hands, Eds,” you gulped down and brought one of his hands back down to your chest.

“Fuck.” Eddie propped his free hand against the mattress, eyes trailing down to his ringed fingers closing around your nipple once again. He licked his lips, blinking slowly at the goosebumps that followed in his fingers’ wake. “You’re fucking perfect, Sweetheart.”

He turned his head towards your other breast, and enveloped his lips around your nipple, alternating between giving you soft licks and harsh sucks, and occasionally grazing his teeth against the hardened pebble.

Your fingers sunk into his curly hair, nails scraping against his scalp with every harsh suck he gave you. Arching your back into him, you gave him an accidental roll of your hips, pulling a muffled curse from him.

Then, ever so slowly, he let go of your breasts, and started trailing open-mouthed kisses against your sternum, down your stomach until his mouth stopped right above the elastic band of your underwear.

“Can I take this off, Sweetheart?” he asked in between kisses and soft laps of his tongue against your skin. His eyes found yours in an instant, eyebrows furrowing at the nods you gave him. “Gotta say it out loud, baby. You can’t imply consent.”

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out. “P-please, Eds. Take it off.”

His ringed fingers curled around the baby blue panties, gently pulling it down your legs, and hiding it in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I saw that,” you chuckled breathlessly, shooting him a knowing look.

“No, you didn’t,” he smiled back and reached for your thighs, pulling them apart. His eyes flickered from yours and settled on your slick folds on display, the playful teasing glimmer in his gaze melting instantly. “Jesus, baby. Look at you, so wet f’me already.”

He gave your thighs soft squeezes before he pushed them further apart, settling between them. Eddie’s brown eyes flickered back to yours for a split second before they flickered back to your swollen clit. He immediately for it with his thumb, tracing gentle circles against you while he actively tried not to cream his pants. Then, slowly, he brought his digit to his mouth and licked it clean, humming softly at your taste.

Eddie’s fingers dug deeper into your skin as he pulled you closer to his face, burying the tip of his nose against your clit while his mouth lapped at your leaky slit.

A strangled moan of his name escaped your throat as you threw back your head, and gave him and accidental roll of your hips against his face. A muffled moan against your pussy made you twitch under his grip. He continued flicking his tongue into your slit, lapping at your sweet slick, while he bumped the tip of his nose against your clit.

You barely noticed when one of his hands loosened around your thigh before ultimately letting you go altogether, too drunk on Eddie’s mouth against your pussy. But then you felt a fingertip sliding between you, resting patiently against your slit, and your breath hitched once again.

“P-please, E-Eddie,” you whimpered. “F-fuck.”

His finger slipped in without hesitation, stretching you open as Eddie pumped his digit in and out of you while he continued lapping and sucking at your clit. He tried counting to fifty in his head, get you stretched open enough on one finger before he added another, but quickly gave up. Eddie pulled his finger out of you, ignoring the broken moan that fell from your lips. His digits circled your slit, spreading your sticky slick around your pussy like your folds weren’t already wet enough. Then, with a torturous slowness, he pushed two fingers into your cunt, careful not to hurry it.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned against your clit, sending mind blowing vibrations down your pussy. “You’re so tight.”

His words made you flutter around his fingers. Your toes curled, legs twitched around his head, and before you knew it, Eddie was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” he whispered, and gave your inner thigh a soft kiss as he slowly added a third finger, thrusting in and out of you. “Come for me, baby.”

“E-Ed–”

Your back arched off the bed, eyes falling tightly shut as broken moans spilled from your open lips. Eddie quickly brought his lips back to your clit, sucking harshly and making that tight knot deep in your stomach snap until you saw white.

“F-fuck, Eddie!”

He slowly brought his fingers to a stop and placed a soft kiss on your clit before he stood up from between your twitching legs.

When you opened your eyes again, blinking heavily, you were met with the sinful view of Eddie licking his fingers clean. Before you could comment on it, he reached for his belt and undid the buckle.

“You still want this?” He asked once he’d pulled the zipper down, relieving himself of some of the ache. Eddie dragged a hand through his hair, gulping nervously before a bashful smile took over his lips. “We can stop if you want. I’m more than happy to just eat you out again.”

You motioned for Eddie to come closer, and pulled him by the neck until he fell on top of you.

“I still want this, Eds,” you mumbled against his lips before pulling him into a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on your tongue.

“F-fuck. Okay.” Eddie pulled away for a brief moment, pulling down his pants and boxers in one smooth move and climbed back on you. “Fuck. Condom. Jesus Christ.”

You watched as he climbed back off, his legs nearly giving out on him as he stepped onto the floor. He ignored the chuckles that left your mouth as he reached for the wallet in his front pocket, hastily flipping it open and pulling a condom out of it.

“I’m on the pill, Eds,” you murmured as you watched him throw the wallet on the ground.

“I don’t trust those damn pills,” he mumbled as he climbed back on the bed, already tearing the foil. “Just in case.”

“I thought you wanted me to get pregnant?” you couldn’t help but joke, warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your chest as the words barely left your lips.

Eddie’s cock twitched in his hand as he stilled his movements and flickered his eyes towards yours.

“You really want me to cum prematurely, huh?”

That pulled another laugh from you.

“So you admit it?”

“I’m not admitting shit,” he murmured as he rolled the condom down his length.

“Sure, buddy,” you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Eddie placed one hand beside your head to hold himself up, while the other gripped your waist. His nails dug into your skin when he felt your tongue slide against his. He pressed closer, head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, lips glued onto yours.

“You still sure about this?” he whispered against your lips when he pulled away, resting his clammy forehead against yours.

“Yes, Eddie,” you replied. “I’m still sure.”

He blinked slowly at you before he nodded – although, by the look on his face, the nod was more for himself than it was for you.

Eddie gulped down nervously as he wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a soft squeeze before he brought it down to your pussy. He rolled his hips, sliding his length through your slick folds and pulled your leges against his waist.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” he promised lowly, glimmering eyes glued onto yours.

Ever so slowly, he carefully pushed the tip inside, stopping halfway when he noticed the faintest twitch of discomfort flicker through your expression. His heart was pounding in his ears, chest heaving up and down, afraid he’d already hurt you.

“I’m okay, Eds,” you whispered as you cradled his cheek with your hand, while the other slid down the bed in search for his. “It’s just a little uncomfortable.”

Your breath hitched when he slowly pushed further inside, fingers tightening around his. Eddie leaned down, curly strands falling around your face, hoping that kissing you would distract you from the discomfort. And it did – his tongue was warm and slick against yours, forcing a muffled whimper to fall from your lips as he continued brushing his lips against yours while he pushed further inside.

When Eddie pulled away again, your eyes were half lidded and shimmering under the warm yellow lighting. He kept sinking deeper, inch by inch, until, finally, his hips were flush against yours.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight,” he mumbled accidentally, immediately cringing at himself. “Sorry, fuck. I mean, are you okay?”

You chuckled under your breath, the words spilling from his lips a nice distraction as you got used to the overwhelming feeling of being filled to the brim.

“Yeah, just– Just gimme a sec,” you whispered back. Eddie nodded softly, bowing down and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck while he gave you all the time you needed. “You… you can move, Eds.”

Eddie continued placing soft kisses along your skin, lips trailing up your cheeks and kissing your face while he slowly pulled out. He rolled his hips against yours, gentle and careful, pulling soft exhales from you.

He straightened up just enough to see the way your lips had fallen open into a small circle, eyebrows slightly furrowed and eyes shut.

“C-can you–” you gulped down, blinking at him and licking your lips. “Just a bit?”

“Yeah?” Eddie nodded, dark curls bouncing with the movement, and rolled his hips against yours a little faster than before. He changed your breathing with every soft thrust, every open-mouthed kiss, every broken moan that he tried holding back. “Fuck, Sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.”

His words made your legs twitch against his waist, whimpers spilling from your mouth as you forgot how to articulate with each thrust he gave you.

When Eddie felt you rolling your hips against his, he picked up the speed just slightly, giving you intoxicating thrusts as his cock slid in and out of you. The condom was thin enough you could still feel the faint protruding veins of his shaft, deliciously gliding against your velvety walls. You fluttered around him, making a shiver run down his spine and his balls twitch when you gushed around him.

The room smelled like cigarette smoke, sweet body lotion, and pussy, driving Eddie absolutely mad. His head fell to the crook of your neck as he angled his hips just slightly pulling a whole different kind of sound out of you.

“F-fuck, Eddie,” you moaned out against his ear, letting go of his cheek and dragging your hand through his hair. You pulled at his roots, nails scraping against his scalp while broken whines kept falling from your lips. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Yeah? Feel good, Sweetheart?” He pushed away from your neck, brown eyes trailing across your face. Your mouth hung open and your eyes were half lidded as you looked up at him. You nodded dumbly at his words, throat suddenly dry as he gave you another roll of his hips. You answered with a hard, accidental clench around his cock, nearly punching the air out of his lungs. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“I-I’m close, Eddie,” you managed to breathe out.

Eddie let go of your hand and brought his thumb to your lips, pushing it in until your tongue stained it in sticky spit.

“Come for me, baby,” he groaned out as he brought his wet thumb down to your clit, tracing sharp circles against your clit.

You tightened the grip on his hair even more, pushing the back of his head until his lips brushed against yours. Ignoring the sharp hiss that fell from his mouth, you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, messily moving your mouth against his as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wanna see you come,” he mumbled against your lips and pulled away again, immediately fastening his thumb against your clit. “C’mon, Sweetheart. Come on my cock, hm?”

Your starry eyes found his for a split second before they fell tightly shut, a broken moan of his name spilling from your mouth as you came for a second time that night. Your pussy clenched hard around him, twitching with every thrust he gave you while you rode out the waves.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moaned, eyebrows furrowing as he kept his eyes glued on your twisting face. Eddie picked up the pace just a little bit more, desperate for his own release. “So perf– fuckfuckfuck.”

Eddie fell forwards, face finding the crook of your neck again as he moaned your name and filled the condom with sticky ropes of cum. The roll of his hips slowed down, exhaustion taking over, until he finally stilled.

For a moment, neither of you said anything – you couldn’t hear him even if he had, not with the loud the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asked after a minute or two, pulling away from your neck. “Are you hurt? Sore?”

“I…” you trailed off, blinking heavily up at him with glimmering eyes. “I love you.”

The three words tugged painfully at Eddie’s chest. He just stared at you for a moment, like you might suddenly sprout a second head.

Then, ever so slowly, a bashful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

His smile widened instantly when you gave him a lazy nod.

Eddie pulled out as slowly as he could, pressing soft, apologising kisses against your temple when you whimpered from overstimulation. He climbed off the bed and disappeared to the bathroom to dispose of the condom for just a quick second before he returned.

He pulled you closer and rolled the two of you over until you were sprawled comfortably across his chest. One arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other slipped into your hair.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

He watched your heavy eyes blink lazily as you fought to stay awake for just a moment longer before finally giving in and drifting off against him.

Eddie’s fingers continued their gentle scratches against your scalp, relishing in the sleepy little exhales that escaped you. The smile never quite left his face.

Carefully, he reached behind him and fumbled for the bedside lamp, doing his best not to disturb you. When the room finally fell dark, he pulled you a little closer, pressing his nose into your hair as he settled back against the mattress.

Eddie was still smiling when he finally closed his eyes.

⋆˚꩜｡a/n: and there it is, the very last chapter of xchc, so bittersweet to see how this went from a concept to an actual written series :') i'm gonna miss these two so so so much <///3 thank you all so much for reading. all the reblogs, likes, comments, overall love this series received genuinely means a lot to me <3 i'm not making any promises right now, but don't be surprised if i ever write a oneshot of these two, just bc i love them sm <3

series tag list

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The seasons were turning, going from the warmer seasons, meaning summer was coming up, meaning for Eddie, exams were coming up. He'd been actually trying, studying, books out, homework mostly being done, Wayne couldn't believe it, his nephew was actually trying? Who was this person, and what had they done with his nephew? He was glad Eddie was taking more initiative with his school work, but still, it was pretty unnerving.

This also meant that Heather wasn't able to go as many Hellfire meetings, which she was pretty upset with. You explained to her that with everyone being busy with exams and school, there weren't going to be as many. She understood, she just missed everyone, all the fun meetings and screaming “HIT” or “MISS” with Eddie. Instead, she was playing with the other kids in the trailer park or with her toys.

One Saturday, you and Heather decided to do some finger painting, teaching Heather colours while putting down a bunch of plastic all over the place. A sudden knock hits the door before opening, Eddie peeking in “Hello ladies”. Eddie announces, Heather's face lighting up running over to him “Uncle Eddie!” He picks her up, holding him onto his hip. “Hey little one, how've you been?”

Heather starts babbling about everything she's done since she last saw him. You finish setting up, getting up, and walking over. “And to what do we owe the pleasure?” You ask, Eddie looking over, wrapping his free arm around you.

“Well it had been a while so I came by to see my favourite girls, plus I think I'm scaring Wayne with the amount I've been studying so I thought I could spend a day with you two for a break. So what are we doing here?” As he asks, he gently puts Heather down.

“We were gonna do some finger painting today, hence all the plastic, Heather, you wanna go get some old clothes on?” Heather goes rushing into her room to change. Eddie looks you over.

“So mama, how have you been? I know its been a while”.

You chuckle, “I'm okay, Eddie. Works same as usual, Heather's okay, she misses all the hellfire d&d nights though.”

“Yeah, figured. Hopefully once everyone is available we can have a few here and there, just everyone's busy with school and stuff”.

“She knows, she just misses it. However you been? With all your studying and everything?”

“Honestly I'm trying but I don't know if any of it is staying in though. For once I'm actually nervous, I'm genuinely trying for once but what if its not enough? What if I have to repeat this year for a third time?”

It's clear this is the first time Eddie has genuinely been worried about exams, his anxieties and worries slowly rising, bubbling to the surface.

“Well, I was the top of my class, if you need tutoring, and I mean actual tutoring, then I'll see what day I have spare to help”.

He smiled, grateful you were willing to help him.

“Thanks dear, I might take you up on that, maybe I need my pretty lady to motivate me” he gets this smug look on his face, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close, as your arms glide up his biceps, he leans in and kisses you.

“Missed these soft lips, those pretty eyes. Once all this exam crap is over, I'll take you out again, have a whole night together, maybe rent a hotel room this time. As fun as it was here, you do not have a lot of space here and I'd rather not risk stepping on a Barbie”. You chuckle at his words, but it was true.

“Fine, once you're all done, you own Heather a hellfire night, and me a date night”.

“And so it shall be, my love”.

As you chuckle Heather comes running back out in some old clothes she doesn't mind getting paint on.

“Ypu ready to go Heather?”

She nods very enthusiastically as you go to get her new paints from her birthday.

“Uncle Eddie, are you painting with us?” Heather asks, looking up at him, he smiles and nods before taking his jacket off.

“But I'm not getting paint on this, this stays clean, got it?” He leaves his jacket by the door, Heather smiles as you put her hair up. You get your hair up before getting the paints out, paper and brushes and paper.

“Ready Heather?” She nods excited to let her fingers and hands paint free. You dig a brush into the pink paint and brush it on Heather's hand, once painted she slaps it on the clear canvas giggling. You pour out the paint, enough for her to use as she goes crazy, you let her have fun splatter paint all over the canvas as she pleases.

Eddie grabs a canvas and a paintbrush and starts to paint out his design, and you do the same. Heather every now and then asks for more paint, or what paint to mix to get a colour she wants, helping her learn colours. You start painting, making random colours and patterns while Eddie is looking very concentrated on his piece, his tongue sticking out while he fights to keep his hair out of the paint, it was adorable.

After a while and a few messy painted canvases later, heater has done plenty of finger painting, attempting to make a dragon to go along with Roary and her newest dragon plush, now named Blaze. Heather runs over to see your paintings and says they look pretty. As she goes over to see Eddie's there's an unknown expected knock at the door. Eddie looks at you. “You expecting someone, love?” He asks as he stands up, being careful of the paints. You shake your head as Eddie goes to answer the door.

There were two older looking people, maybe around his uncle's age, standing at the door. They definitely were not from around here, looking like they could own some fancy looking house, maybe even a mansion. “uhh… can I help you pair?”

“Oh sorry, we must have the wrong address, we're looking for y/n”.

“Ohh, sure, uh baby? There's some people here to see you”. Eddie can't help looking at the pair like they were aliens. You appear at the door and look and see the two people you were least expecting to see. “Mom?... Dad?” You ask, you feel like your eyes are bulging out of your head, why were they here? After four years, they decide to rock up like they hadn't been around for four years!? They lean in to hug you in your shocked state, if it weren't for Eddie pulling you back, they would have.

His face was stormy, looking ready to shove them out if needed. As soon as those two words leave your mouth, he immediately goes back to the date night where you told him what happened, how they practically abandoned you, ready to leave you out on the street, all because you got pregnant.

Your parents look a little off put by Eddie pulling you away back in his arms. “You're her parents?” He asks, his voice low and stern.

“Uh, yes, we're her parents, I'm Mary and this is her father Robert.” Her mother tries to introduce themselves. “And you are?” She asks, her eyes trailing over Eddie's appearance, a look he's seen and gotten used to seeing over and over. The look of instant dislike and distrust. “I'm Eddie, her boyfriend”. He says it so matter-of-factly that you almost missed this being the first time either of you have mentioned being girlfriend/boyfriend.

The disapproval is almost instant on your parents' faces. “Oh, y/n really? And here we thought you would have grown out of this by now. I mean you're how old now? 25? 26?”

“...I'm 22 mom… turn 23 in July…” That really proved to Eddie just how little they knew of their own daughter. Before he could get another word out, another voice came from inside the trailer.

“Mommy, who's that?” Heather had pushed her way through your guys legs, she looked up at the two strangers at the door, your parents eyes brightened. “And this is our little granddaughter? Oh how precious, come give your grandmother a hug”. Your mother opens her arms expecting Heather to run into them, when she doesn't she leans in, causing Heather to hide behind you.

“Mommy says to not go near strangers”.

“Oh honey, I'm not a stranger, I'm your grandmother and this is your grandfather, come here”. She leans in to go pick up Heather, scaring the poor girl. “MOMMY!” You hear her scream, something about your daughter yelling for you makes you out of your shock. You grab your daughter's shoulders and pull her back into your arms like Eddie did with you, holding her close. You pick her up as she cries into your shoulder. That displeased look on your mother's sour face hits again. “What's the matter? I was only saying hello? So dramatic for absolutely no reason”.

“Just like you were when you were younger y/n, you need to teach her about respecting her elders, and her manners”. Your dad chimes in unwanted. You glare at the pair of them, for making your daughter cry, for insulting Eddie, for making you feel right back at home.

“Come on sweetheart”. You mutter softly to Heather, bringing her to her room. You see Eddie's face soften as you go to Heather's room, as soon as the door closes, his face immediately hardens. He glares at the pair, crossing his arms over his chest, he asks “what the fuck did you pair want anyway?” The two are appalled by his language, both looking annoyed.

“We decided to visit our daughter and her child, we haven't seen them in a while-”

“You mean when you kicked your kid out for getting pregnant? When she needed you pair most and you threw her out? I mean, I'm a fuck up and not even my uncle wouldn't dream of doing that. How did you even find her address?”

“We asked one of her friends since we couldn't find her ourselves”.

“Well maybe that was for the better. You haven't been in your daughter's life for four years, you've never even met your grandchild till now, and you expected them to just lovingly embrace you cuz you're blood related? I've heard some dn strategies in my time but that actually might be a winner.”

“Look young man, this has nothing to do with you. This is our family-”

“Not anymore it isn't. You gave up on that the moment you abandoned your daughter. You don't get to call them your family, their my family, my girls, you've upset them enough, now get out, before I give Hopper a heart attack by calling the police myself for once”.

He interrupts your mother as the two stand there shocked before he slams the door in their face, sighing. How could her parents do that? Not be there for her then show up like nothing has happened? He leans against the door before hearing soft sniffles come from Heather's room. His expression softens hearing you two crying, he sees Roary and Blaze on the table and grabs them, bringing them over before lightly knocking on the bedroom door before walking in.

Inside the scene breaks his heart. Heather has her face buried in the curve of your neck sniffling, shaking a little, he can see her small hands gripping your shirt, her sitting on your lap as you sit on the bed, not doing much better. You hold her close to you, your foot tapping, a nervous habit he recognises that he did when he was younger, tears building in your eyes but never falling, wanting to stay strong for your daughter.

Eddie sits next to you and holds you both, your head hides in his chest as you finally cry, you couldn't believe it. And in the shock of everything, it all came flooding back, the anxiety, the fear, everything. All you could do was gently rock your little girl in your arms while Eddie held you together. Eddie says nothing, he just holds you both tightly to him, as if your parents would return and snatch you both away from him.

After a while your cries die down to sniffles, you move your face away, red, tear stained along with Eddie's shirt. “S-sorry about that…”

“Hey…” he gently takes your face in his hands. “It's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for”. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, your eyes closing as you concentrate on the softness of his slightly chapped lips. Heather moves her head away from your neck, looking over at Eddie before jumping into his arms. He holds close, gently rubbing her back. “It's okay princess, big scary uncle Eddie got rid of them. If they know what's good for them then they'll leave you both alone.” As you sit up, wiping your face, the trailer phone rings, you get up to answer it as Eddie stays with Heather.

You answer, hearing the familiar voice of your old friend Jackie. “Y/N! DONT ANSWER THE DOOR! YOU'RE PARENTS ARE LYING!” Is the first thing your hear screeched down the phone at you so loud, you have to move away.

“Jackie, Jackie… what are you talking about, mom and dad they've… they've already been”.

“What did they tell you?”

That they wanted to see me, why?”

“Okay, don't be mad but I might have given them your address, but it's cuz they lied to me, they said someone in your family was in hospital, critical condition or some shit I can't remember, so I didn't think and gave them your address, and then I only found out its cuz your family's asking about you, since they haven't seen you in so long, they wanted to invite you somewhere for dinner or something, I don't know. Point is your parents basically lied so they could try and get in the good books with the rest of the family”.

“So… it was just appearances again? Play pretend happy fucking family again?” You feel your annoyance growing, god you wish you didn't freeze and yelled at them, screamed, even slamming the door in their face would have sufficed, but you froze.

“Yeah, again I'm so, so sorry, I know I should have checked but I thought there was an emergency and I didn't fully think and god… I feel terrible”, you could hear the genuine remorse in Jackie's voice.

“It's okay, they seem to have that affect where they damn well go, match made in hell and all that”. You hear Jackie huff out in relief that you weren't mad at her.

“So now that we're actually talking, how's things with you and Heather?”

“They're going well, great actually. She'll be at school next year and Eddie's been a great help”.

“Eddie? Who's Eddie?”

Oh yeah… “He's, uhh, he's my boyfriend-”

“OH MY GOD!” Another scream down the phone.

“You have a boyfriend!? Like an actual boyfriend!? Why am I only hearing this now!?” Before you know it, Jackie hits you with question after question about Eddie, making you smile, forgetting about your parents.

Meanwhile back in Heather's room, Eddie holds Heather to his chest, rocking her back and forth like you did.

“Was that lady… gonna take me?” Heather asks through her last tears.

“No sweetheart, your mama and I would have never let that happen. You know your uncle Eddie is big and scary, like a dragon, keeping his princess and queen safely away from the monsters”. She smiles softly thinking of Eddie as a dragon. “Would you breathe fire?”

“Of course, fire to scare the locals but keep you two nice and warm during cold weather, and wings big and mighty to fly you around the land”, he raises his arms like a pair of wings, making a roar noise, Heather smiling. “And along with my trusty companions Roary and Blaze”, he held up the two dragon plushies, “No one will hurt my princess or queen”.

Heather giggles softly, her earlier distress now forgotten. “W-would that mean you're a dragon king? Because you're with mommy?” He smiles.

“We would have to be married first before I can become a dragon king Heather”.

“Then get married!” Heather chimes like it was the easiest thing in the world, considering she was part of the help to get you and Eddie together, Eddie was not risking this. “Uh-uh not yet, and don't you and Dustin start plotting again”.

“But do you want to marry mommy?” She looks up at him as he glances at the door, hearing a soft chuckle from you as you talk on the phone, a slight smile on his face.

“Maybe one day Heather, but it's too early, we've not even been together a year yet and I've got enough on my plate with school as it is, speaking of which as soon as we can, we will have a hellfire night once again, so you get be my little DM assistant” Heather smiles jumping for joy at that.

You pick that time to walk back in, promising Jackie that at some point you two would meet up to have a proper rally about your new boyfriend, and walk in seeing Heather smiling and jumping.

Eddie turns to see you. “Hey gorgeous”. He says moving towards you and giving you a proper kiss, his hands resting on your waist. “Hello handsome, everyone feeling better now?” Eddie nods as Heather has Blaze and Roary in her hands. “Yeah, I think we're good now, though she's probably gonna want a nap later, big emotions happened so the little one will need to sleep it off”. He says.

“Look at you, almost sounds like an actual dad”. You tease as you walk out the room deciding to get some snacks and juice for Heather so you can clear up the paints. You don't see the slight blush on Eddie's face as he thinks about us, Eddie Munson, being a stepdad… or just a father figure in general… he never thought he'd live to see the day.

You cut up some fruit with some juice for Heather to sit and eat while you start to clear up, Eddie helping alongside you when you finally ask, “Oh yeah, what did you paint Eddie? We never got to see yours”.

“Yeah!” Heather chimes in as Eddie looks at his painting in hiding. “Alright I guess it's only fair”. He turns to grab his painting and shows it off, it was a poster like paint with a dragon and guitars. “I wanted to try and see how some ideas would be for the next corroded coffin show and since I haven't had the chance to actually design any posters yet I figured this would be the best chance with what I had, I'll have to show it to the guys and get their opinion on it first but, not bad for a first draft”. He looks down at his painting, genuinely proud of it.

“I never took you for an artist”. You say looking over the picture.

“Well who do you think came up with the hellfire club t-shirt design? Did it all myself, managed to find a studio that would let me print the shirts, which reminds me, I should make one for Heather at some point as our newest member”. Heather gasps at that.

“You know if you don't she won't want to take it off for like a month, right?”

Beyond embarrassment, the way your body betrays you is isolating. Always has been. Always will be, it seems. Despite finding love in the one person you trust most, the one you’ve always felt safe with, this illness is still merciless. 

You had some hope, maybe, just maybe, after those first few times together— never fully having sex, only what your body could handle— there was a loophole to it all. That it just took being with the right person to be comfortable enough to actually feel pleasure, and genuine love, rather than agony and shame.

This body, though, had other plans. It always does.

Slowly, you drifted away; even if your rooms were across the hall from one another, it felt like you were miles apart.

Steve’s been empathetic from the start, checking in on you and your pain level, taking it day by day, keeping his promise of sharing “lazy days” with you, comfy clothes and all. Sex wasn’t a priority, nor did you believe he was ever that kind of person, but it was destroying you from the inside out that you couldn’t have that intimate connection with him. Not in the way you’d want, without caution beyond protection, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

It’s as if the emotional wounds from this disease, with all of its life-altering symptoms, continued to get worse alongside your physical health. You used to be able to turn the thoughts off, float away in bliss with your partner, but the negativity only festered, rotting away a corner of your mind to make a permanent home.

Humiliation triggered erosion at the simple concept of only cuddling with Steve, or hugging him. The belief of becoming a disappointment to him seeped into your confidence; maybe you should push him away, so he finds someone better. Someone who won’t be such a let down, or distraught over their body destroying itself.

Your body wasn’t just destroying itself, it was destroying your relationship with your partner, your best friend, too.

Once the spiraling thoughts held strong enough, they were hard to shake. Even the mere thought of Steve holding you made your chest ache. An ache full of want, full of self-disappointment. You wanted to let him hold you, and you wanted to hold him, too.

But it didn’t stop the one prominent thought, driving you further away from him each day:

Some people are built for love— to love, to be loved— and maybe that just wasn’t you.

“That’s it, honey…” Steve murmured, forehead pressed against yours as he pumped a digit into you slowly, gently. You shuddered as a familiar sting drew itself up your slit. “Doin’ okay?”

“Mhm,” you lied, eyes scrunching shut with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. You were losing the tender moment, rather than losing yourself in it, feeling the pleasure slip through your fingers like sand.

“So good for me, so, so—“

Steve’s praise was cut off by an involuntary hiss from the pain; his hand stopped completely, frozen, afraid to move incorrectly and hurt you more.

“Hey, s’okay, we’re stopping—“ He’d cautiously pull his hand away, eyes flickering between his touch against you, and your expression. “… You don’t have your period, do you?”

Your eyes snapped open, falling to his hand; faint streaks of blood tinged the skin of his finger red.

“I’m sorry, I thought—“ Your eyes became glassy with tears, threatening to fall as you shook your head wildly. “I was hoping if I kinda… powered through it, maybe it’d feel better.”

Steve sighed, murmuring a “hang tight” as he slid off the bed, retrieving some clean, warm towels, and a first aid kit. It’s one he decided to make, full of things either of you needed, mainly for your flare-ups during intimate moments; back-up medication and all.

“Why didn’t you say something was wrong?” He kept busy with a tender touch, cleaning off remnants of blood on you. Shame began to swallow you whole, and the tears finally broke. “Hey, I’m not upset with you. I just wish you said something. I hate hurting you.”

“N- no, it’s not you, I promise!” This is where the whirlwind of panic usually tied to these flare-ups begins. “I’m sorry, I was— it’s— I didn’t mean to—“

He gently shushed you, hands warm as they rested on your thighs. “Lay back for me, angel.” You complied, conflicted by how sincere he was caring for you, and how mortifying it was for him to see this part of you. “Be honest if anything hurts, okay?”

With patience and love, Steve applied medication to your agitated skin with a feather-light touch. In time, the sharp sting and inflammation’s throbbing heat began to subside; it wouldn’t go away completely, not for a few days, maybe even a week, at least. This was better than minutes ago, though.

Though you were grateful through the guilt for his help, you hated whenever he had a close look at how fucked your anatomy had become, scarred over time from a majority of your life without a diagnosis, without treatment. The unkind thoughts began to convince you that you must look grotesque to him.

He cracked an instant ice pack, wrapping it in a washcloth before handing it over to you. “Your bed, or mine? Or do you want space?”

Ice pack held to your core, you croak out, “Yours, please.”

Minutes later, you were tucked in next to him, in fresh, loose clothing, physically feeling calmer, but mentally, you were a wreck inside.

“Talk to me,” he gently commanded. 

“It’s- sometimes it’s hard to—“ you huffed in frustration, eyes welling up with tears again. “Sometimes it still takes me longer than I’d like to finish… sometimes I don’t, at all. I thought maybe it was different now that we’re together, but it’s— I swear it’s not you. You know that, right?”

Steve rested his hand on your neck, fingers brushing along your jaw, behind your ear, in slow, soothing movements.

“I know. It’s out of your control. We don’t ever have to do anything.”

“But I want to—“

“And I want you to be safe, and not suffer more than you already do.”

There was no arguing that, not with Steve; you kept your mouth shut, trying to settle into the shared quiet before falling asleep.

Instead, your racing thoughts kept you awake; if you’d ever reach remission, finally feel something other than pain when Steve would touch you, or would he eventually become fed up and leave? You wouldn’t blame him.

Couldn’t hurt to give him some distance… right?

A knock echoes over the shower’s running water, but you don’t react. Instead, you stay curled up on the shower floor, knees pulled to your chest as you sit under the shower head. Body quaking with heaving sobs, you don’t hear the curtain as it’s pulled back, and it takes a few seconds to register arms around you, embracing you with extra care.

“Oh…” You look up to find Steve, leaning into the tub to hold you close, concern written all over his face. “Steve… you’re gonna get your shirt wet,” you mumble, hiccuping in between sobs. 

He laughs lightly, but it’s forced. “I can wash those, it’s— that doesn’t matter. What’s going on?”

You shrug.

“Angel, c’mon, talk to me,” he pleads. “Robin called me, said she could hear you crying from down the hall.”

Well. That’s a pathetic new low.

It hits you Steve’s still in his Family Video vest. “Oh my god— you— why did you leave work?”

He scoffs, exasperated that it’s not obvious. “‘Cause I love you, and you’re way more important than some stupid movies.” Pulling back, he peels his damp shirt and vest over his head, kicking his pants off too. He flounders around on the floor comically, struggling to get his pants off before realizing his shoes are still on.

You snort through your tears, curling his own smile just a smidge.

“Make some room, I’m coming in to bother you.”

That pulls a weak giggle out of you. “You’re never bothering me.”

Steve climbs in next to you, wiping water from his eyes as it hits his face. It’s a snug fit, in this tiny bathtub, but you make it work. He takes one of your hands in his own, gently kissing the back of your hand.

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?”

“Are you happy with me? With us?” It comes out like word vomit, surprising you, and it doesn’t stop there. “Because I— I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me, if you feel bad, or you’re worried it’ll fuck with our friendship, and the fact we live together, and—“

“Where’s this coming from?” Then he begins to connect the pieces. “Is this why you’ve been so distant?”

You nod reluctantly, adding, “It doesn’t bother you that we can’t have sex?”

“If anything were to bother me about that, it’s the fact that I wish I could make you feel good when you want to.” His hand cradles along the side of your face, molding to your jaw as he sweeps his thumb along your cheekbone. You hesitate from leaning into his hold. “This is all out of your control… and even if it wasn’t, and you just didn’t care for sex, I’d still love being with you.”

Your bottom lip curls into a pout, afraid to let your eyes meet his own. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

“Are you kidding me? I loved you before we started dating, back when the most we did was cuddle. What makes me happy is spending time with my best friend, being in love with my best friend.” Not a shred of doubt lies in his expression. He maneuvers around you awkwardly, but eventually, he’s got your back to his chest, resting against him in the tub.

It’s soothing to have his skin flush against your own; intimacy and compassion without it becoming sexual. As much as you’d like that, it’s good to feel this, that it’s something he’s more than okay with.

“We’ve survived so much, that I’m just happy we’re both here. We’re both alive. I’m content spending time together however you want to, as long as you are.” He kisses your cheek, arms winding around your waist. “Has this been the same flare-up this whole time?”

You nod, sighing. “I kept getting… frustrated that I couldn’t finish, and eventually—“ Pausing, you remember he assured you in the past the gory, unappealing details don’t bother him; he’d rather you talk about it than downplay it. “I’m so mad I can’t experience what I did the first few times we got together. I’m angry I can’t connect with you in this way. It’s not everything, but I’d kill to feel…  normal when it comes to this shit.

“Thought maybe if I tried some toys again, I’d work myself up to do more with you, but that— I just… I’m only making the scarring worse. My skin has been tearing so easily lately. M’close to saying fuck it and getting surgery, ‘cause I can barely feel my clit under all the scars, and I’d really like to just… exist, without my skin tearing and fusing, and infection risks.”

Steve rests his head against the back of yours, asking softly, “What’s the ‘but’ here?”

“… But, there’s a chance it can fail. Worst that happens is… nothing.” Sniffling, you mirthlessly laugh over it all. “I go through surgery, I heal, just for my skin to completely fuse back together… but it’s gonna continue doing that anyway, even with treatment, it seems. So… might as well take the leap, I guess.”

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you, every step of the way.” He turns his palms upward over your lap, and you take the hint, lacing your fingers between his. Squeezing gently, he sighs softly in your ear, tickling your skin, earning a faint smile. “If you ever decide you wanna fool around, you have to be open with me. If you don’t feel good, there’s no point in continuing. And if you decide you never want me to touch you, even outside of sex, I can respect that, too.”

A small sob leaves your lips, shaking your head quickly. “No, I— give me time. If anything, I still wanna cuddle and kiss and all that… maybe more if this flare-up ever fucks off. Just kept thinking maybe if I stayed away, it’d be easier for you.”

“It wasn’t, but I understand you’re hurting. Like I said, I’ll respect whatever you want, but I hope it’s alright to say I missed this, being close like this. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?” Steve runs a thumb over the pad of your own, grimacing. “How long have you been in here? You’re practically a raisin at this point, babe.”

“Oh, shit. I’m probably using up all of the hot water—“ You scramble toward the faucet, killing the water flow, cringing as you turn back to Steve. “Oops.”

He snorts, helping you up as he stands, too. “C’mon, let’s get in comfy clothes, then we can do whatever you wanna do.”

“Lazy day?” You softly suggest, earning a sincere, half-smile from your partner. He pulls a towel off the nearby rack, draping it around your shoulders before grabbing his own.

“Lazy day,” he affirms, enveloping you back into his embrace.

Though the thoughts try to creep back, it’s easier to shove them aside in his arms. Everything feels certain here. Safe.

While the two of you get changed, your gaze wanders, taking in Steve’s figure before he’s covered up. He’s just so… pretty. Even all this time later, your stomach still flips when you admire how gorgeous he is.

Steve throws a sweatshirt on, catching your less than sneaky stare. You clear your throat, rushing to toss a shirt on while rambling out,  “I really am okay with kissing, though. Like… really, really okay with it. Very okay. A-okay.”

He breathily laughs, pulling you back against him, only to hold you. “If you’re okay with it, I am, too. And if you change your mind, that’s also a-okay.”

“Well…” your hands grip his hips, glancing up with a tiny smirk, feeling more at ease than earlier today. “Just ‘cause I can’t do certain things, doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good still.”

Blushing, Steve’s eyes widen. “I- I don’t— you don’t have to do anything, that’s not fair to you—“

“What if I want to?” Your question comes out sweet, and it’s genuine; you still love making him feel good, at least. There’s ways to go about that without worrying about your health. “Would that be alright with you?”

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, hyper-aware of your body against his. You lead him over to your bed, gently pushing him back onto it.

While all your spiraling thoughts clouded your mind, your body worked on muscle memory; you don’t remember reaching your door, nor do you remember unlocking it, or your coat sliding off your tired, limp arms, onto the floor. Your fingers loosen, purse and keys adding themselves to the pile of belongings held up by the floor.

“Rough night?”

That snaps you out of your daze, just enough to catch your attention and bring it outside your head. Past the dark living room, your eyes squint for a moment before recognizing Steve sitting at the kitchen island, coffee in hand. He’s got that sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look; hair disheveled in all the right ways, wrinkled sleep shirt and worn-in sweats.

“Jesus, what time is it?” You find yourself asking, shuffling across the living room, and into the kitchen. Rubbing your eyes to adjust to the light, your makeup smears even more around your eyes.

Steve’s eyes grow wider, more alert now that you’re in the light. “It’s 6 in the morning— are you okay?”

Body exhausted, you collapse into the chair next to Steve, arms flopping onto the island’s surface before resting your head on them.

“Hey, seriously, what’s going on?” You can picture Steve’s concerned face just based on the tone change alone. He sets his coffee down and reaches a gentle hand out to your shoulder. “Talk to me.”

Steve’s your best friend, your long time confidant, partner in crime— if the crime was slaying demodogs and demobats, and any Upside Down creature in between, that is. And thank fuck that’s all behind you now.

But this? You couldn’t talk to Steve about this. You couldn’t talk to anyone about what was going on. What will go on until the end of your days. So you shake your head weakly, knowing damn well that’s not enough to stop him from worrying.

“Are you hurt? What happened?” Steve’s thumb starts a repetitive, soothing motion, back and forth across your skin. You want to recoil so badly, want to retreat, not from him, but to protect him from you. 

Ignoring Steve’s question, you ask, “Why are you awake?”, hoping it’ll change the course of whatever conversation he’s trying to have with you.

Your best friend is stubborn as hell though, you knew better that’d he’d persist until you gave him an answer. 

Steve sighs, “You never answered my question.”

“You never answered mine.”

“I asked first.”

“And I don’t want to talk about it, Steve.”

Silence falls between you both, but only for a moment, before Steve persists yet again. 

“If I came through the door looking like hell, you’d want to know what’s going on with me.” His tone is soft but you know his sentiment is firm. “If Robin was awake right now, she’d be asking you the same questions.”

“Yeah, well, Robin’s normal and doesn’t wake up at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday for fun.”

“Listen, that’s— stop deflecting. Something happened, how can I help?”

A dismal, forced laugh leaves you as you finally sit back up. “Steve, I appreciate you always trying to help, and I appreciate you, but this isn’t something you can help with.”

His gaze locks with yours; Steve’s eyes aren’t filled with pity, just genuine concern and a desire to understand.

“Try me.”

Sighing, you stand up slowly, wincing as you do. That only pushes Steve into protective mode, leaving his chair to spot you, worried you’ll fall over.

“Steve, I’m okay, I can walk, I’m fine.” He opens his mouth to protest but you cut him off, “Let me go put comfy clothes on at least, okay?”

Reluctantly, he nods, stepping back. “Yeah, of course.”

As you start towards the hallway, Steve asks, “Want some tea?”

“Yeah, that’d be— wait. Shit. I ran out of lavender h—“

“Lavender honey? I grabbed you another bottle when I was getting groceries yesterday.”

A soothing warmth blooms in your chest; the little things you do for one another, knowing each other so well by now, always surprises you, even if it’s second nature by now. 

“Thank you, Steve.” You give a soft smile before heading to your room to change.

It takes you a bit longer than usual to change; everything hurts, even clothes where they lay on the most sensitive areas of your body. Steve is patient, though, and has tea ready for you on the coffee table while he waits on the couch.

Wrapped in a fluffy blanket, face clean from messy makeup, you shuffle your slippered feet across the worn hardwood floor before gently lowering yourself to the couch. Steve opens his arms, offering the go-to platonic cuddling you give one another when things aren’t going well.

There’s an extra warmth when you lean into his side this time. He smells like that one woodsy soap he likes using, and his soft breaths tickle the top of your head as you duck into his side. Little familiar things. It eases your mind from the physical pain, even for a moment.

It’s quiet for a bit, and you’re unsure where to start. So Steve asks, “Are you feeling better?”

You nod, sipping on your tea. “A little, yeah. Everything really fucking hurts, though.”

He wastes no time, “Did someone hurt you?”

Alright. You can’t keep running from this. You have to talk to someone about this, and there’s no one you trust more than Steve. 

Leaning forward, you set your tea on the table before snuggling back into his side. “Not intentionally.”

Steve’s brows furrow as he looks down at you. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, closing your eyes, hoping if you don’t look at him this will be a little easier to talk about.

“Hookups are supposed to be fun, right? Like if it’s consensual it should be a thing you enjoy, right?”

Steve nods slowly, confusion across his features.

“It’s… not. Not for me. And I don’t know why I keep trying.” You’re trying so hard to keep a straight path on your thoughts, but you can feel yourself begin to spiral again. “It hurts. Physically. I mean, like, being intimate in any situation with anyone. And sex isn’t everything, but it makes me feel so… so isolated.”

Steve stays silent, listening intently, hand gently tracing lines up and down your arm, comforting you to continue.

“And casual dates are hard to navigate. And I- I don’t blame anyone else. It’s just the cards dealt to me, or whatever the hell people say.” Here comes the rambling, it’s tumbling all out now. “I feel this intense pressure to tell someone on a date from the start to not expect things to go well if we hookup later, but I never want to come off as expecting that to happen. But it’s still important, and yet if I say something as things are about to happen, I kill the mood, and if I kill the mood, it makes me feel bad that I ruined things. It makes me feel like a fucking buzzkill.

“I can’t connect with anyone once things hit that point of intimacy, even casually. And even when we try, I’m left in so much pain, making the other person feel guilty, when it’s never their fault to begin with. It’s this stupid fucking cycle, and I keep myself stuck in it hoping one night I’ll actually enjoy things. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe it won’t be so painful. It just doesn’t work like that, though.”

Steve reaches out to your face, wiping tears away with his thumb; when the hell did you start crying?

“Y’know how everyone always says sex might hurt a little the first time? But then you get used to it?” You ask, and Steve nods cautiously. “That’s every time for me. When anyone even touches me. And even if I can get past the pain in the moment, I’m left with agonizing pain anyway. I- I can’t tell, am I in denial about this? Or maybe I’m just using the little bit of pleasure I might get to ignore how dangerous this can be sometimes—“

“Whoa, wait, what’s dangerous?” Again, Steve’s protective side comes out. “You know you can tell someone ‘no’ if you don’t want to do anything, right?”

“No- yeah- I know. That’s not what I mean, though. This is— ugh, Christ, I don’t know why this is so embarrassing for me to talk about.” Steve gives you a gentle squeeze, arm pulling you closer to him. “I have this- it’s a- god . What the fuck, how do I explain this?”

“It’s okay, take your time.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin again, “I’ve got this really, really stupid disorder? Disability? Fuck. I don’t know. It’s debilitating as hell, though. They- the doctors- think it’s auto-immune. Sex is painful as hell. I’m left bleeding most of the time. God. Fuck. This is so personal and- and- gross—“

“Listen, after biting a demo bat, I’m pretty sure I won the grossness award for anything ever.” Steve says, trying to lighten things, make it easier to talk about, and it does earn a soft smile from you. “I’m not judging you for anything.”

You take another deep breath, shut your eyes, and dive into the details.

“It’s got a stupidly complicated name, and everything. Lichen Sclerosus. And it’s apparently rare. It’s not contagious. It’s lifelong. I have to take medication regularly for it, but even that hasn’t been enough lately. It causes all sorts of pain and discomfort, so sex is really, really hard for me. That makes it so hard to enjoy it, even though I want to. It makes the skin fragile, with tears and scarring and also can fuse skin together— there’s so much more to it, but it makes just existing hard.”

Steve’s face drops, not in judgment, not in disgust, but in pain for you. Still, his hold on you never falters.

“It can be mild to some people, but of course I got an intense case of it.” You sniffle, not even embarrassed anymore about any snot running down your face alongside the tears. “It makes me feel so… so fragile. And broken. And it makes me wonder if I can’t even handle one night stands, how the hell would I find someone to be patient with me, with this, in a long term relationship?”

“You don’t owe anyone anything. You especially don’t owe anyone sex.” Steve affirms, and you know, but it’s helpful to hear from someone else. 

“I know, I know. It’s just kinda wrapped up into wanting to connect with someone like that, and knowing there’s a road block I’ll never be able to find my way around. Sex aside, it’s why a lot of the time I’m wearing comfy clothes. It’s hard just getting through the day when it’s bad enough. Walking hurts. Sitting hurts. Everything hurts. Tampons? Fucking terrible. 

“I’ve never told anyone about this, aside from a few brief, rushed explanations before sleeping with someone. Or my doctors. It’s so complicated and I never want to come off like I’m begging for pity, but god , does it make me feel so alone. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, there’s a heightened risk of vulvar cancer, too.”

Steve sighs, as if he was holding his breath this entire time. He runs his free hand through his hair; it’s something he’s always done when he’s nervous, or anxious, or at a loss for words. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

Rubbing tears from your eyes, you try to joke, “I think it was easier to deal with the Upside Down and Vecna’s bullshit than handling this disease. Illness. God. I still don’t know what to call it.”

Steve doesn’t laugh, though. His gaze holds mixed emotions: sadness, admiration for your strength, anger for the pain you’re fighting through alone.

“I wish I had the right words, or a solution for you.” Steve sounds pained. He never likes watching anyone suffer, and knowing you’ve been suffering in silence for god knows how long… His heart aches for you. “But if you ever need to talk about things, or want to just hang out at home in comfy clothes, I’m here if you need. I’m always here for you.”

Tears welling up again, you’re the one squeezing him this time. “Thank you, Steve. I know you have your own demons to fight, so I never want to burden you with mine—“

“You’re not a burden. Never are. Never will be.” Steve’s so quick to state that. “How many nights have you stayed up with me when I have nightmares? Or all the times you’ve calmed me down during flashbacks? You deserve the same respect and care. You deserve to feel safe, too.”

The dam breaks again, and you duck your head into Steve’s chest. He wraps both arms around you, pulling you gently down to the couch to lay next to one another. 

“And if anyone ever, and I mean ever , hurts you, or even tries, you tell me.” Steve’s voice is still soft, but quieter now. Yet you know he’s serious. “If anyone tries some fucked up shit, they have to go through me first.”

Your fists grab his shirt, balling up the fabric between your fingers as you pull him closer to you, as if he’d disappear at any moment. Like he’d slip right through your fingers in an instant.

“You don’t need to fight my battles for me, Steve.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I won’t leave you feeling like you have to fight them alone. After all, you’ve done the same for me when I thought I had to go through it alone.” 

There’s not much more you can say; your mind is exhausted from being awake for so long, from opening up to Steve. So you hold him close, eyes feeling heavy and tears slowing to a halt.

“You can sleep, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That’s the last you hear before falling into a deep sleep.

“Oh my god, just fucking date already.” Keys jingle and the creak of the front door echoes through the quiet apartment. 

“Robin, shut up. ” Steve hisses. “They need sleep.”

“Alright, alright. I’m crashing at Vickie’s after my shift, so you better behave while I’m gone.”

“Jesus christ, Rob, go to work.” Steve murmurs before the door shuts. He sighs, pulling you closer to him while you stir.

You’re in and out of sleep, catching this quick, hushed exchange, but sleep grabs hold of you once more.

The dream you had continued where you left off, engulfing you in secure contentment. It’s a familiar feeling, but it feels like you can see things clearly. Your mind isn’t spiraling. 

You’re home, cozy in bed, under all the blankets you’ve collected over time; Robin and Steve always called you a blanket hog for good reason. 

Steve. Speaking of Steve, he’s sleeping next to you. In your bed. Under the same mountain of blankets you’re buried beneath. 

You’re awake, studying his features as he peacefully sleeps. He looks so calm for once. No nightmares violently pulling him away from slumber. No shaking. No yelling or thrashing in defense of whatever lurks inside his own dreams. He’s nearly angelic with the way he sleeps with ease. 

“You’re staring at me, aren’t you?” He murmurs, eyes still closed. 

So much for being asleep. 

“Shut up.” 

Steve pulls you closer to him, and that’s when you notice he’s shirtless, when his chest is pressed against yours. Your legs tangle with his, in a fluid, familiar motion. 

“Make—“ 

“How many times are you gonna say ‘make me’?” 

Steve smiles, eyes barely open now, his laugh coming out in a soft exhale through his nose. “As many times as possible if it means I can kiss you.” 

Your eyes roll but it’s playful; he calls you out, “Saw that.” 

“You can’t see shit right now, you just woke up.” 

“Don’t need to see to feel your sass deep in my soul.” 

You laugh, “You’re dramatic, as always.” 

Steve’s more awake now, hand cradling your face, while the two of you sleepily giggle at one another. 

When the both of you eventually fall into a comfortable silence, Steve asks, “Can I kiss you?” just like he always does. Always making sure you’re both on the same page. 

With a half smirk, you nod before he leans in, lips pressing to yours. The kisses are soft, lazy, with no rush or haste to get things heated. Calm like a Sunday morning. 

Between kisses, you whisper, “I love you”, while your arms twist over his shoulders and around his neck. His hands travel to your waist, around to your back, gently caressing up and down your spine.  

Steve pulls back, just barely, noses touching. “I love you, too.” He kisses you once more, before trailing kisses to your cheek, down your neck, ever so softly it almost tickles. A breathy gasp escapes your lips, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. 

“How’re you feeling right now?” He asks, kissing across your shoulder, then back across your collarbone.  

You know what Steve’s asking about. But you know he’s asking beyond intimate reasons. He’s asking because he cares about your comfort, your safety, far beyond sex. 

“A little sore, but it’s okay.” You breathe, holding him close to you as he continues to kiss across your chest, to your other collarbone, then the other shoulder. Your fingers instinctually tangle in the wavy ends of hair at the nape of his neck. 

“You sure?” 

“I’ll tell you if something’s too much, I promise.” 

Steve comes back to meet your face with his before kissing you again, this time a little more deeply than before. Your lips move in familiar  

motion against his, a dance you’ve memorized time, and time again.  

He pulls back, “That’s my girl.” 

You give him another playful eye roll. 

“Can I show you how much I love you?” 

Out of context, it seems like a silly question, but in the moment, his consistent checking of consent means so much to you. 

“Please,” You don’t mean to respond in a near-whimper, but you do, and it only turns Steve on more.  

Still taking his time, Steve continues kissing you, softly swiping his tongue against yours, melding together. His hands reach to pull your loose tank top off, breaking the kiss for a moment to finish the job before returning to your lips. He grasps in all the right places, causing you to gasp into his mouth, encouraging him to go further. 

Steve’s large hands grip your hips before traveling up your sides, caressing you before lazily groping your chest. Involuntarily, you moan and roll your hips toward his, brushing against his growing hard-on. That pulls a low, gravelly groan from Steve into your mouth.   

You break the kiss to say, between heavy breaths, “I’m not fragile everywhere, you know.” 

Steve smirks, hands still working softly, almost painfully slow. “Yeah, but you know I like taking my time playing with you.” His fingers pinch your nipple weakly, and you arch into his touch with a moan louder than the last. 

“Gotta stay quiet, sweetheart.” He reaches a hand up to cover your mouth, muffling whatever sound escapes you next. “Can you do that for me?” 

You nod furiously while his other hand still plays with your tits. Again, your hips roll forward, and you brush up against him with more force than the first time. This time he’s the one letting out a moan. You bring a hand to his mouth, laughing under his hand on yours. Defeated, Steve can’t help but laugh with you. 

“You’re a smart ass,” He says, muffled under your fingers. You pull your hand from him, and he mirrors you. “C’mere.” His hand on your chest moves to your back, and he pulls you as close as possible to him, “Be good for me, keep grinding on me, okay?” 

Your face flushes; even talking dirty he’s sweet and caring. That turns you on more than any other dirty talk you’ve heard in bed before.  

Steve pushes his leg between yours, slotting his thigh right against your core. “You doing alright?” 

Panting as you pick up the pace, grinding on his thigh, you nod. “Better than ever, Stevie.” 

He flexes his thigh against you, causing a vocal moan to slip out of you. His hand flies back up to your mouth. 

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t ruin this for yourself now. You were doing so well.” Steve’s free hand grips your hip, guiding you to grind faster against him. Your eyes roll back as the sweet, sinful feeling rises in your lower tummy, building up pleasure. Under his hand, you bite your lip, hoping to stay as quiet as possible.  

Hips stuttering, you feel yourself grow closer to release. Steve can tell too. “C’mon honey, make a mess for me.” 

The heat in you grows white hot, you’re just on the edge, your climax in view, nearly in reach, until you— 

“Hey, hey, you alright?”

You’re pulled from sleep suddenly, removed from your sweet dream. Steve’s still laying with you on the couch, but he’s leaning back a little, concerned.

Eyes focusing on the sunlight pouring into the room, you blink a few times, pushing the blurriness from your view. Then you notice Steve clearly, and groaned, “Wha’happened?”

“You were, uh— you seemed, um,” He clears his throat, … bothered, by something in your sleep.” Steve’s doing his best to be polite, and it hits you; you were probably moaning in your sleep. 

  God fucking dammit. 

Maybe you can try to play it off. “I- uh…. Bad dream.”

Steve gulps, cheeks red while examining your face before nodding. “Right, yeah. Makes sense. You okay now?”

“Yep!” You answer a little too quickly, voice raspy from sleep. “Sorry if I- I woke you up.”

Steve settles back down next to you, “Nah, I was already up. I didn’t move, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh…” You felt your face flush; how long had he been awake for? Maybe you didn’t want the answer to that. Who knows what he heard. “You could’ve gotten up, it’s okay.” Your eyes wander to the clock on the wall. 3 pm. “Shit, Steve, I made you waste an entire day off.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to make sure you were okay and got some sleep.”

Your heart ached. How on Earth did you end up with the most sincere, caring best friend in the world? 

“Thank you, Steve. For everything.” 

“What are friends for?”

Ouch. Why did that sting? 

A slightly awkward silence falls over the two of you, until you break it with, “My tea got cold I guess. Oops.”

Steve laughs softly, pulling you closer to him again. “It’s okay, we can always make more.” Your belly growls on cue. “Guess we should probably make food first, huh?” 

Still exhausted, you shake your head. “Can we just do pizza or something?”

Nodding, Steve rolls off the couch, making his way to the kitchen. You can hear his voice, distant, ordering over the phone, repeating your go-to order. He just remembers, just like the tea earlier. It’s the tiniest things like this that make you feel so… so…

No way, we’re not going there. It’s just kind gestures between friends. Quit overthinking it. 

What the fuck was that dream anyway? Because that? That’s not helping— 

“They said it’d be 20 minutes,” Steve’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you wish you had a dollar for every time that’s happened just today alone. “Wanna pick a movie?”

It’s a distraction, but one from your thoughts that you’ll gladly after that dream.

The tape in the VCR rolled to a stop, leading the TV screen to a familiar blue glow. An empty pizza box laid open on the coffee table next to an ashtray where a joint once lay; the two of you demolished a large pizza with ease, which wasn’t hard when the two of you were insanely high.

The room is quiet for a moment, but you break the silence with a giggle.

“We could totally do the lift, y’know.” You nod in the direction of the screen, where Dirty Dancing just ended.

Steve glances over at you on the opposite end of the couch, eyes bloodshot while he displays a dopey smile. He snorts while shaking his head.

“Now?”

“Yeah, c’mon,” You’re grabbing his hand, trying to pull him off the couch, but you haven’t gotten up yourself. Steve laughs harder.

“No way, we’re too stoned for that.” Steve doesn’t budge from his spot, no matter how hard you pull. Jesus, he’s strong. And stubborn. “Quit frowning. We couldn’t even do it sober, we’re both too clumsy for that.”

“When did you become the safety police?” You frown, still tugging on his arm. 

“Since Henderson roped me into the demodog mess years ago.” He retorts with a slight tug back to counter yours. “When did you become a fan of Dirty Dancing? I remember you said it was corny when it first came out.”

“Well, it was either that or Hellraiser, and you hate horror movies.” You giggled, body feeling weak from all the laughing and weed. Still, you try moving him from the couch, to no avail, of course.

His face twists in disgust. “Because horror movies are gross, especially that one.” 

“You literally ripped the spine of a demobat out of its body by your teeth.” Your quip earns feigned offense from Steve with a dramatized gasp. “Am I wrong?!”

“Hey, sometimes you gotta do stupid shit to survive, alright?” His words should be serious, but he can’t help the laughter from continuing with yours.

“And you’ve kissed people with that mouth?” Your face scrunches as you make a ‘ blech’ noise. “That’s gross, Steve.”

“Says the person who was dreaming of kissing me earlier,” Steve teases, only realizing what he said once it was too late. The two of you freeze in place.

Your heart sinks and your smile falters. All you can respond with is, “Oh.” Your grasp on his arm loosens.

Steve immediately sits up, shifting closer to you, “No- wait— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything—“

“God, this is fucking embarrassing.” Hiding your face behind your hands, you shake your head before squeaking out, “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one that should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said that.” Steve’s shaking his head, reaching out to pull your hands from your face. “That was low, especially since you’ve already been having a shit day. I’m sorry.”

Pulling back, you distance yourself from him, sliding back to your end of the couch, refusing to look him in the eye. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry— 

“Will you look at me, please?”

Your head shakes, lump stuck in your throat as you hold back tears. “It’s— it’s fine, Steve. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“Can we talk about this?”

Do not cry, do not fucking cry. 

Arms crossed, you stand quickly, still avoiding eye contact with Steve. You stumble a bit, still feeling wobbly from the weed.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I had an awkward dream, you were present for…. Whatever the hell I said or did… we can just forget about it, okay?”

Steve stands to reach out to you, but you step back, so he reels back, too. “What if I don’t want to forget?”

“Steve, I refuse to ruin our friendship over… over that . It was silly. It was a dream. It was a moment of weakness, or whatever. I’m sorry for making things weird. Let’s drop it.” You start towards the hallway, not turning around as you quickly wish Steve a good night, and duck into your room, closing the door behind you.

That’s when the crying starts, and you were impressed you held it together that long. Crawling under your mountain of blankets, you hoped you could sleep this all off for as long as possible. Maybe Steve would be too high to remember by the morning.

There was no way of fooling yourself, though. You knew that wouldn’t happen. Not in a million years. Your emotions ran too high, and Steve’s heart was way too big for either of you to sweep this one under the rug for good.

Sleep only came thanks to the weed, but when you expected to see daylight as your eyes opened, you’re met with a dim glow of the moon barely peeking through your blinds.

Fuck. Why can’t I just have one normal night of sleep? 

Looking over at the alarm clock across your room, the blaring red numbers read 4:09 A.M.; you’ve seemed to establish a complicated love triangle with time and sleep. You throw a pillow over your face and groan loudly, frustrated.

And then… everything floods back to you.

You, arriving home early in the morning, Steve comforting you, you opening up to Steve about something so, so personal…

And that dream. Jesus fucking christ, that goddamn dream.

Steve heard something. Steve saw something. How much, you weren’t sure. And it wasn’t something to casually ask about, either. 

“Hey, was I just moaning in my sleep? Or was I grinding against you, too?” 

Yeah, that’d go over well.

What a fucking way to find out you talk in your sleep. 

A clang! echoing down the hall pulled you to the present, startling you a bit. Silence followed, then another sound of metal hitting the floor echoed out. Puzzled and slightly concerned, you open your door as quietly as possible, peeking out with caution. You look left, then right, then left again— oh, Jesus Christ, this isn’t a fucking road crossing.  

The noise repeats, louder now, definitely coming from the kitchen. You slipped out, tip-toeing down the hall to investigate. The only light in the common areas came from little night lights plugged into the wall; Robin suggested them shortly after moving in, knowing Steve would be more at ease that the apartment wasn’t in complete darkness at night.

“Fuck, c’mon…” A loud bang! fills the apartment. “Where is it?”

Your heart sinks. It’s Steve, and the panic and pain in his voice is unfortunately all too familiar to you. Pushing aside your emotions and hurt ego, you rush into the kitchen, heart cracking further at the sight before you.

Steve has nearly every cabinet open, baking sheets, pans, pots, utensils all scattered around the floor as he frantically continues to pull the kitchen apart.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. 

Sliding to the floor and over his way, you gently reach out to Steve, touch light but still startling to him. He drops whatever was in his hands, eyes wide as he turns to you. He looks terrified. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“M- my bat. I can’t find it. I can’t- I can’t find my bat.” His response is rushed, body shaking, eyes darting around the room, searching for any place he hasn’t torn apart yet.

You keep your voice soft, calm, “Honey, it’s—“ Don’t mention it’s gone. Not when he’s having flashbacks like this. “— You don’t need it, you’re safe. You’re okay, Steve.”

That’s when you notice the tears welling in his eyes and slowly reach out to take his hands in yours. It doesn’t immediately soothe him, but you hear his hyperventilating breaths begin to slow.

“You’re— you were—“ Like waking up from a bad dream, Steve’s awareness kicks in; his eyes wander, taking in the surroundings before falling back to you. His gaze isn’t frantic anymore. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Steve pulls back from you, brings his knees to his chest, ducking his head towards his legs as a sob he tries hiding still escapes him. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Everyone’s safe. You are safe.” You try reassuring him, but the comedown into reality sometimes is more painful than the flashback itself.

“Everyone…” His voice breaks between sniffles and exhaustion from being in flight-or-fight mode. “Everyone was just… just gone.” 

You shift closer, but ask before reaching out, “Can I touch you?” He’s hesitant, but nods after a moment. You softly wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Steve mirrors your actions, but his grip around you is tight, like he’ll lose you if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

Just like you held him earlier.

It’s never easy seeing Steve like this. You wish you could do something, anything to help him, to take the pain away, or even shoulder it yourself to give him a break for even one night of good sleep.

Your hands gently run through his hair, softly scratching at his scalp every now and then; slowly, he begins to relax against you, grip still strong.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe ,” You find yourself murmuring to him. He shook his head, pulling you closer to him, as if it was even possible.

“You were- you, Robin, the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie—“ He stops, trying to suppress a sob, so his voice continues to crack. “Everyone was gone… I- I couldn’t help anyone, I- Hawkins just… just fell through th- the ground.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” You keep your voice soft, but reach to lift his head, eyes meeting his tired, tear-worn ones. He rests his forehead against yours, and you’re too concentrated on helping him to realize how dangerously close your faces are. “You’re safe, I’m safe, everyone is safe. We’re hundreds of miles from Hawkins now, remember?”

“Wh- are the kids okay?”

Sighing, you offer, “I can call one of them if you want, but I guarantee they’re all safe. Probably all asleep.”

“Except Henderson,” Steve murmurs, “He’s been working on that goddamn campaign with Eddie all week, pulling all-nighters and calling me at midnight to tell me about what we’re missing.”

You try stifling a laugh but it slips a bit. A laugh from Steve follows. It’s broken, it’s small, but you’ll take it.

“Then he’s absolutely fine.” You tease, earning a small smile from Steve. He pulls back, and you nearly frown at the distance he creates, but hide it. Steve wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, and you scramble to find tissues, grabbing them from the counter to hand them to him. He murmurs a “thanks”, and while drying his eyes, you notice how swollen they are.

How long was this episode? 

“Tell you what, I’ll call them at normal, functional people hours, just to make sure. Alright?” Steve nods, balling up another used tissue in his hand before grabbing another.

“Are you saying we’re not normal, functional people?” Steve cracks, words muffled as he speaks into the flimsy paper.

With a laugh, you shake your head. “I dunno, Steve, I think normal people would try to do the Dirty Dancing lift while stoned.”

Steve snorts a laugh. It’s genuine. It’s a sound that warms your heart. The laughter naturally settles as he holds his head in his hands for a moment, wiping his eyes once more, before looking up at you.

“I’m sorry… about earlier.” Steve nervously twists a tissue to shreds between his fingers. “That… that was fucked up of me. You had such a bad day, and… and you can’t control what happens in your sl—“

“Steve. It’s okay. Seriously.” You didn’t want to hear him talk about it, though you did appreciate the apology. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have gone to bed upset and left you like that.”

He shakes his head, crumpled tissue falling to the floor. He reaches out his hand, palm up, leaving you to decide. “You had every right to be upset.”

It’s silent for a beat, then you slip your hand into his, loosely, weakly, but you still make the effort. “I’m sorry if that triggered your flashback.”

Steve’s cautious in his response, “I… I’m not sure what triggered it, honestly. It’s not your fault though. I’m just terrified to lose anyone.” His grip on your hand squeezes, and you squeeze back. “I’m terrified to lose you.”

Out of context, this could sound like some sort of toxic, co-dependent relationship. But with everything Steve endured, on top of being abandoned emotionally by his parents, you understood why he was so afraid to lose anyone. 

“No one is going anywhere. I’m not. You’re stuck with me, Harrington.” That earns another quick chuckle with a bonus eye roll. “And… if you still wanna talk about… things, we can. But we both need sleep. Actual sleep.”

 “Yeah, yeah… I’m just gonna clean this stuff up first.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You should sleep. I got it.” You rise to your feet, helping him up with you. 

“I—“ Steve hesitates before making eye contact with you and blurting, “… Can I stay with you tonight? I- I know we’re right across the hall from one another, but I don’t…” He exhales through his nose, hand running through his hair on cue with his hesitance. “I don’t wanna be alone. If that’s okay, I mean, you can say no—“

“Of course, Steve. Go get comfy and try to rest. I’m gonna put this stuff away and then I’ll come back, okay?”

He gives your hand a squeeze once more, gaze lingering on you before he heads down the hall.

It thankfully doesn’t take too long to put most of the kitchen stuff away, but you toss the utensils in the sink; you can worry about that tomorrow. 

By the time you slip into your room, Steve’s fast asleep, soft snores escape him as he’s curled up under your usual mountain of blankets. The sun’s starting to rise and spill through the blinds, so you close them before climbing back into bed, wrapping yourself around Steve. 

Once you’re settled and cozy, you bring him closer, whispering “Sleep well, Stevie,” before you drift off too.

The way you finally wake up isn’t in a panic, nor is it sudden. It’s not filled with embarrassment or shame. There’s no danger. There’s no flashbacks, or awkward feelings to dance around.

It’s a natural way to wake up, sunshine bright and beaming even through the closed blinds, birds chirping outside, sounds of city life below your window, all while wrapped up with your best friend under your favorite collection of blankets.

Wait. 

Steve’s still sleeping, or at least you think he is. This feels oddly reminiscent of your dream, with the calm awakening, watching your best friend sleep peacefully. You do feel a little creepy watching him, but you can’t help it; seeing Steve not in pain is a relieving sight.

“Take a picture,” Steve murmurs, and it startles you, “it’ll last longer”. His eyes are still closed and a lazy smirk appears across his face.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” You deadpan, turning over to face away from him. 

Unexpectedly, Steve’s arms snake around from behind, resting comfortably on your waist. Your breath hitches at the motion, and he notices. 

“You should probably keep breathing, that’s kinda important.”

“Okay, smartass.” Without thinking, you push back with the weight of your body; it’s meant to be innocent and playful, but you back up into him enough to feel his morningwood against your backside. 

Immediately you gasp and pull away, releasing a string of apologies, but they’re drowned out by a low, but loud moan from Steve.

Silence falls over the two of you, it’s painfully silent. 

“Oh my g— fuck. I’m sorry. Wow. I’m. I—“ You’re not sure what to say or do, and you can’t face him, you can’t see his face, or let him see how flustered you probably look. “I- I- Ididn’tmeantodothatIswear—“

While you’re trying to apologize, so is Steve, with a, “I- it’s not- you’re fine— I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have touched you, I— it’s a morning thing— it’s not you—“

“Right, yeah, no, totally, I get it—“

“I mean, not that it wouldn’t be you, or— fuck— I mean, not that it couldn’t— Jesus Christ, I mean- I—“

“It’s okay Steve, I— you— it’s a natural thing, it- uh- happens.”

Though you distanced yourself a bit, Steve’s still got his grasp around your waist, and neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

It’s a few seconds (or maybe a century) later, Steve audibly gulps, then clears his throat awkwardly. “… Y—“ He stops himself, taking a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then goes for it:

“…. So, what was your dream about?”

Playing dumb, you respond, “Last night? Or, well… I guess today? Today’s dream? Um—“

“You know what dream I’m talking about,” Steve pesters, confidence growing. “Don’t be shy, tell me what happened.”

“We— I— Steve I- I can’t ,” You stammer, but he slowly pulls you back his way, and you don’t protest.

“Why not? Kinda sounded like the other times I’ve heard you get off.” You gasp; Steve’s so blunt, you nearly get whiplash from the sudden change from his embarrassed demeanor minutes ago. “Maybe… maybe you can show me how you make yourself feel that good, hm?”

“You- y- you haven’t heard shit.”  

“You’re pretty loud sometimes. I’m not complaining, of course. You make a lot of cute noises.” If you bite your lip any harder in an attempt to hold back any sounds, you’re sure to break skin.“You wanna know what I heard during that dream?”

Your breath hitches again, thighs squeezing together subconsciously from an ache you didn’t even realize started.

“Turn around,” Steve says; it’s a command, a soft one, but it’s not him asking, that’s for sure. Embarrassed, you shake your head anyway.

“Listen, I can stop if you want. Just say the word.” His voice is gentle as he reminds you. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can drop th—“

Your head shakes again, and with the tiniest voice, you rasp out, “Don’t”.

“Hm? Don’t… what ?” Steve’s got your back against his chest, and you can feel the vibrations from his gravely morning voice. “I need you to be specific. Use those words, sweetheart.”

Your response is breathy and shaky, but it’s clear, “… D-don’t stop.”

Steve hums, content. “That’s my girl.”

A whimper escapes you, and you slap a hand over your mouth. Steve laughs lowly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You made sounds like that, in the beginning. I couldn’t figure out why you sounded so… needy. Thought maybe it was a bad dream.”

Steve’s hands wander cautiously, fingertips dragging along your hips, up your sides, then back down. One hand slides down your hip, grazing your ass as it continues down your thigh. You shiver under his touch, and you can feel the satisfied smirk growing on his face against your skin.

It’s light, but he leaves a kiss on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Then you got a little louder, kept pressing your pretty thighs together, like you’re doing right now.”

Steve ever so slightly ruts his hips against your ass, just enough to make quick contact, and you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. Another needy whimper escapes you, this one’s louder than the last.

“Like that, don’t ya’?” He mutters in your ear, breath tickling the delicate skin. His hips roll again, and you feel his length a little more, but it’s not enough. You push yourself back into him, and Steve, caught off guard, moans in your ear.

“At one point, your hips kept moving, it looked like you wanted something to grind against.” Steve taunted with fake pity, making your eyes roll back as he pushed against you fully, throbbing length flesh with your backside. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to put my leg between yours, give you something for relief, poor thing.”

“M-more…”

“Oh? More of what, honey?”

Your brain was short circuiting; there’s no way this was actually happening. How the hell does he expect you to be able to form coherent sentences right now?

“Barely touched you and you’re already acting like you’re fucked out?” Steve continued to tease you, and it was driving you mad. “I don’t know, maybe you’re not ready for anything else.”

“S-Steve, please.”  

“My name sounds even better coming from you when you’re awake.”

You feel your entire body heat up, both with shame and desire. 

“‘M’sorry…”

“Don’t be… was a shame I couldn’t do anything about the hard on you gave me, though. That wasn’t the easiest to hide.”

Your mind’s spinning; there’s no way this was the same best friend you’ve known most of your life. For how much he can stumble over words when nervous, he’s got no shame to speak his mind in bed.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you were dreaming about…” Steve’s breath hitches as he grinds against you, this time with more force, causing the both of you to moan in tandem. “Just gotta tell me, okay? Gotta tell me what feels good, or if something hurts, yeah?”

You nod furiously, gasping when he slots his muscular thigh between your legs from behind. “Be- be gentle…”

“Of course,” Steve says, and you can tell he means it. “Always. Unless you say otherwise. If you’re too sore we can stop.”

“No, k-keep going,” You turn your head, trying to see him, whining. “… Steve.”

“What do you need?”

“You.”

“I’m right here.”

You pout, too overwhelmed to string a sentence together. “Ugh.”

“Words, baby.” He reminds, taunting again.

 You slide off his leg to turn around, grinding back down on his leg while pressing your own thigh between his, against the outline of his cock in his boxers. His head falls back as an audible, throaty moan leaves his chest.

“Words, Steve.” You tease back, but he tenses his leg against your core in response, earning a gasp from you. He’s trying to keep control over you while savoring the tiny bit of pleasure you’re giving him right now. 

“Should’ve known you’d be a brat.”

“A-alright… now I’m not kissing you.” You’re beginning to soak through your shorts onto his leg. “You weren’t this cocky in my dream, y’know.”

“And you weren’t this bratty while moaning in your sleep.”

Steve’s hands grip your hips, squishing into your soft curves as he guides you along his thigh. Your focus on returning the pleasure is long gone as the heat builds from your core up to your lower belly.

“M’god… we did this…”

Steve’s eyes darken. “In your dream?”

Biting your lip and clamping your eyes closed, you nod furiously while your breaths become shallow and pick up speed. 

“W-we kissed before, though.” You whine, clit throbbing as you glide with ease against Steve. “Y- you were s-sweet…”

His smirk falters; “Am I ruining that now?”

You clench and Steve tenses his leg against your core again. Shaking your head quickly, you rasp out, “No- not at— fuck— not at all, Stevie.” You force your eyes open, gazing into his, stunning and hazel, all darkened with lust. “J-just be- patient with me… please.” 

Steve reaches up to cradle your face in his strong hands, “Always, always, always.” His head tilts against yours, noses brushing against one another’s. “Can I kiss you?”

You’re nodding with so much enthusiasm, it’s almost comical with how your forehead bumps his. It brings a genuine smile to his face, but before his lips touch yours, you squeak out, “I- Steve, m’gonna… it’s—“

“I’ve got you, let go.” Steve murmurs against your lips. “C’mon, be good and make a mess for me.”

Your eyes roll back just as he kisses you, his words echoing in your head the way they did in your dream. Shaking, your moan is quieted as his tongue swipes your bottom lip, easily gaining entry. Steve groans at the way your moan vibrates against his own mouth. Your fingers reach up to tangle in his hair, tugging and earning more sinful noises from Steve.

Your core convulses against his leg as you ride out your high, and Steve breaks the kiss to admire the pornographic noises escaping you. With eyes shut, you don’t see the way Steve refuses to take his eyes off of you. The way you arch your back, pushing into him further, how your mouth falls open while your head falls back, still writhing on his thigh while your arousal leaks all over his skin— Steve’s absolutely certain he’s died and gone to heaven.

Aftershocks twitch through you, causing your hips to roll involuntarily, brushing your sensitive core against Steve, earning even more whines; they’re raspy now and you’re certain it’s from how loud you just were.

Chests heaving with heavy breaths, both you and Steve begin to calm down as the reality of what just happened sets in.

“How do you feel? Are you okay?” Steve breathlessly asks, cupping the side of your face loosely. “I.. um, I hope that didn’t hurt you at all.”

Smiling at his sincerity, you shake your head, also attempting to catch your breath. “M’okay, a little sore but nothing bad.” Voice falling to a whisper, you sheepishly admit, “I… I don’t usually get that wet unless I’m getting off on my own.”

Steve’s shocked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s, um… not being able to naturally do… that so easily, it’s a pretty common side effect. I’ve noticed that it’s not a problem when I think about you, though.” It takes a moment but you press your lips together, eyes wide, realizing what you just said. “I- I- I mean—“

“How are you shy now after you just got off on me?” Steve teases, and it’s not mean. “It’s okay. Fuck, I mean, it’s more than okay.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got no idea how often I think of you,” Steve admits, blushing. “Never thought you’d feel the s— wait. You do feel the same about me, right?”

You giggle, kissing him on the cheek. “Yeah, I guess.”

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling you close, but the movement makes you both incredibly aware how messy things got. Your face heats up as you look down between the both of you and take in the sight. It’s not just Steve’s leg, but the sheets underneath, along with most of the fabric of his boxers are soaked. 

“Ugh, I’m gonna have to wash all my blankets and the sheets.”

“I can help, you know.”

 Before you can reply, your eyes notice another, slightly different spot.

“Steve?”

“…. Don’t—“

“I barely touched you,” You can’t stifle your giggles in time. Steve knows it's not malicious though. 

“Yeah, well, can’t help it when my best friend is so hot.” He murmurs, pinching your side.

“I could’ve helped.” You say with a dramatic pout, and it makes Steve’s cock twitch against you. 

“As much as I’d fucking love that,” Steve’s suppressing a groan, “This was about you. I wanted to make you feel good, like you deserve.”

“To think all of this started from a bad date,” You muttered. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“No, no rush or pressure, and that goes for anything.” Steve’s thumb brushes against your cheek, softly moving back and forth. “If anything is too painful, or uncomfortable, or you don’t even want to try something, tell me. Just like we’ve always told each other everything. And like I said yesterday, if you want a lazy day, just say the word.”

“Same goes for you, Stevie. And if I do or say anything that’s triggering, will you please tell me? Even if it’s hard. I want you to feel safe, and I’d do whatever to make you feel just as protected as you make me feel.”

Steve sucks in a breath before laughing it off. “Alright, I did enough crying yesterday, don’t start it back up.”

“Fine, fine.” You softly smile, then remember the stickiness between the two of you again. “I definitely think we should shower, though.”

Steve nods with a grimace, pulling himself from you to roll out of bed. “Good thing you have that private bathroom.”

As you get up, you start pulling your clothes off and tease, “Who said you were showering with me?”

“You’d think the teasing would settle, just a little, after admitting your feelings.” He sighs dramatically, joking, before sincerely asking, “You need space though?”

You’re halfway through the bathroom door and turn around, smirking at Steve. His eyes are glued to your figure, nearly drooling. “You kidding? Get in here.”

After cleaning up yourselves and the bed, the two of you sink under the covers again, just to cuddle and relax. The fresh sheets, still warm from the dryer, smell like fresh rain, or whatever the hell that detergent is called. The mix of that with Steve’s woodsy soap, still radiating off his body, makes you feel at ease. 

The rest of the day is spent enjoying time together, like you always have. It’s just a little closer. A little more intimate. Something you figured you’d only ever dream of. You both go over relationship boundaries, both in bed and not, reminding one another it’s okay to speak up if something feels wrong. It’s okay to communicate. The two of you always have, so this wasn’t really all that different.

Most of the conversations are innocent, or at the very least, far from filthy, yet there’s a question that’s been hanging in the back of Steve’s mind all day, and he isn’t sure how exactly to word it.

So, in natural Steve Harrington fashion, he finally just blurts it out.

“How… how exactly do you get yourself off?”

It catches you off guard a little, but you know Steve’s asking both out of curiosity and genuine care; he wants to learn everything about you that he hasn’t already known, and that includes how different some aspects of your life are with this disorder.

Steve’s curled up next to you, cozy in multiple pillows, while you sit on the bed, legs crossed like a pretzel. He watches the way you become shy, worrying he might’ve embarrassed you.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer that—“

“Um, I do, I just- no one’s asked me before. It’s not anything worthy of a wet dream, that’s for sure.” You snort with a shrug. “It’s kinda silly and boring, really.”

“You? Touching yourself? How the hell is that boring? Because what I’ve heard is far from boring.”

Your face heats up and you playfully push him, “Shut up.”

With a teasing grin, he answers, “Make me.”

“See, you did that in my dream too! Get out of my head, weirdo.”

“Nope, I permanently reside there now.”

You narrow your eyes in a glare his way, but can’t keep a straight face, and start giggling. “Are you gonna let me explain it or not?” Steve makes a gesture like he’s zipping his lips shut.

“So… I’ve tried toys, like… a lot— Steve, get that look off your face,” You’re interrupted by the way he wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously. “Anyway, the majority of them weren’t helpful, and kinda really hurt to use? I kept thinking I was using the wrong things or maybe I was broken, or some shit.”

Steve’s goofy expression fades at your last words. He reaches out for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. “You’re not broken.”

Gently squeezing his hand, you continue, “It’s easier using softer things. I told you, it’s boring, like a pillow, or something. That doesn’t hurt, or cause my skin to tear, it’s really boring, but it does the job, I guess.”

“These?” Steve jokingly points to the pillows he’s hogging, and you laugh with a shake of your head. 

“No! That— I hide it, so no one accidentally uses it. That’d be mortifying.” You cringe at the thought. “Sometimes the palm of my hand works too. I did keep some toys, though. Just don’t use them how most people do, or very often, really. So… yeah. That’s it. Told you, it’s a snooze fest.”

Steve’s eyes darken as his gaze lays heavy on you, showing he thinks otherwise. He sits up with curiosity flashing over the lust in his eyes.

“Show me?”

That takes you aback. “S- show you? That? Steve, it’s not like, porn material or anything. You’re not missing much, I promise.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Steve’s voice is low, hand moving from yours to your face. You love the way he holds you, leaning into his touch while your eyes flutter shut.

“You’ll laugh. It’s really not that hot.” You murmur, nuzzling against his palm.

“You could do anything to yourself to get off, and I’d think it’s the hottest thing in the world,” Steve admits, thumb caressing your cheek like he did earlier. Your eyes open but your eyelids are heavy with desire.

Throat dryer than a desert, you rasp out, “Robin’s still not home, right?”

Steve shakes his head ‘no’ while his eyes fall to your lips. “She- uh- she called earlier, said she’s staying with Vickie again.”

You don’t respond with words, rather, reaching for Steve’s hand on your face, gently dragging it down to your mouth before sucking softly on his thumb. You’re painfully slow, eye contact strong. Steve’s jaw drops a bit, clearing his throat to hide the groan that wants to leave him.

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me.” He murmurs, hypnotized by how your mouth feels against his skin. “Can you show me, angel?”

His length twitches under his grey sweats, catching your attention. How could you deny him anything right now? Pulling back from him, you lean over the edge of the bed, grabbing the pillow you mentioned earlier. Steve’s hands are on your ass in an instant, kneading the soft, plush curves. His touch draws a whine out of you while you sit back up, pillow in your grasp.

“One condition though.” You figured might as well make this more exciting. “You can’t touch me.”

Steve’s face drops, hands returning to himself. “What? Why?”

Straddling the pillow, you lean over to him, noses touching with a teasing smirk. “I was good for you, wasn’t I? You can be good for me, too, yeah?”

Steve’s mouth runs dry as he slowly nods. Breaking from his daze, he leans in further to close the gap and kiss you, but you pull back an inch. Steve whines. 

“Don’t ruin it so soon,” you continue pulling back, hips starting to roll ever so slightly. “If you can’t follow the rules, I’ll stop.”

Steve shakes his head fiercely, shifting as close as possible to you without touching you. “I- I’ll be good. I promise.” His eyes are glued to you, wandering all over, but drawn most to the wet spot already growing through your underwear.

You pick up the pace, just barely though, little whimpers and gasps spill from your lips, and Steve’s already palming himself through his sweats, grunting softly at his own touch while watching you.

“See how easy that is, Stevie?” Your voice is sugary sweet and breathy while the broad, soft surface brushes against your cunt just right. “You said you heard me across the hall, but did you know what I was thinking about?”

Another quick head shake, panting softly.

“Blowing you, choking on you, l- mnph, fuck— letting you fuck my face,” You’re in a daze; everything feels so good, and watching Steve get worked up in front of you is fueling the fire. “Sometimes I’ll suck off my dildo, imagining it’s you.”

Steve’s head falls back while he releases a throaty, low moan. His hands are tugging his sweats down, just enough to let his needy cock spring free. Your eyes widened; you figured he was big, but not like this. 

You can’t help the way your jaw drops, taking in the sight of your best friend, unraveling at the seams as he starts stroking himself, watching you in return.

“Please— ohmygod— “ Steve roughly flexes up into his hand, death grip around his member, now swollen and leaking at the tip. You subconsciously lick your lips at the view. “Show me, show me, show me.” His voice is desperate, beyond needy as he chants his pleas.

With a quick nod to your nightstand, you direct him, “Back of the second drawer.” Soft moans are leaving you every so often, leaning back as your hips keep a consistent pace while grinding on the pillow.

Steve scrambles to lean off the bed, yanking the drawer open; there’s multiple toys, vibrators, lube, dildos, clamps, plugs— fuck, he’s gonna lose it. Steve exhales roughly, forcing himself to stay focused and grab the one he estimates is closest to his size. He shoves it in your direction, trying not to touch you as he’s desperate to see what you described. That’s when he noticed your shirt was off, and choked on air.

Immediately after taking it, your eyes flutter shut as you slowly suck on the tip. Steve’s fucking his fist again, whimpering at your actions. Your eyes open and you lock your gaze with his as you begin taking the toy deeper, little by little. Steve clumsily tries rubbing his precum over his length as lube, but his hands are unsteady as he watches you begin to drool out of the corners of your mouth, gagging on the toy lightly. Spit falls onto your chest, and he swears he’s gonna die watching the fluid drip over your tits.

Leaning forward, you remove the dildo from your mouth and spit over Steve’s length; saliva dribbles over his cock and hand, frozen in place as he holds himself and watches you, stunned.

“Jesus fucking christ…” He breathes, shivering as he forces himself to move and let the spit coat his skin. His strokes are slick and loud as he picks up where he left off. 

You lean back onto the pillow, continuing your calculated movements, arousal pooling between your thighs. The damp spot beneath you continues to grow while you deepthroat the toy, gagging and eyes watering for a moment before pulling off. 

“C’mere,” You lean forward, hips still rutting against the pillow as you tug at Steve’s legs. He gives a puzzled look before realizing you want him closer, so he moves. “Still can’t touch me, okay?”

“Mhm— oh-“ Steve’s eyes nearly cross as you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, meeting the tip to swirl your tongue around and over the slit precum weeps out of. 

Slowly, slower than his pace, you stroke him, looking up at him with fucked out doe eyes. “I’ve always dreamed of this, Stevie. Making you feel good. Does this feel good?”

Nodding roughly, comically mimicking a bobble head, he moans, and this time it’s high pitched. It’s a whine, drawn out and echoing around the room, like he’s being touched for the first time. His hands twitch before he balls them into fists, keeping them near his sides and away from you.

Hands still working, you ask, “Did you want to know more? With what I think about when I play with myself?” You barely finish the question before plunging your mouth down onto his cock sloppily. Steve shouts , involuntarily bucking into your mouth as you take him as far down as your throat allows.

“Pl- shitgodfuck— yeah, yes, please.” 

Obscene noises from the slick of your mouth fill the silence before you answer. “Riding you is one I think about a lot,” your hips begin stuttering, a signal your high is closing in on you. “Fucking in the shower… in the car… you bending me over whatever surface we can find so you can fuck me really deep—“

“Can- can I- fuck, please let me touch you, angel.” He’s losing his mind, with the way you’re talking so filthy in a sweet tone, and how you’re multitasking grinding on the pillow and sucking him off, all with that sweet stare from your pretty eyes glancing up at him.

You ignore him and continue, “Sometimes I can take it rough, too.” You spit lewdly on his cock again, jerking him faster while your lips tauntingly rest just above his tip. “But even when I go slow, I usually think about you in control.”

“Baby, please, pleasepleaseplease- I- let me touch you,” Steve throws his head back in frustration. “Can I take over? Let me do the work, honey.”

You don’t answer, mouth too busy as you hollow your cheeks out while bobbing up and down on his throbbing cock, then pulling off without warning, replacing your mouth with your grip.

“You’re so big, Stevie… I’m not sure I can actually take you. Would you let me try sometime?”

“You’re s- such a fucking tease,” He growls through gritted teeth, growing impatient. He looks down at your hips and the slick between your thighs, licking his lips. “O- only if you- godgodgod— let m- me taste you sometime.”

Smirking, you kitten lick his tip, “Uh-huh, but you gotta do somethin’ for me right now.”

“Anything. Fuck. Please.” 

Sucking the tip once more, releasing with an echo of a pop! , you look up at him sweetly. “Fuck my face. Please?”

Steve nearly cums at the question, but forces himself to keep it together. “Y- you sure?”

“You can touch me, too.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Steve exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time; his hands reach out for you, one tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to toe the line of pleasure and pain, and the other grasps your jaw softly. He pauses, as much as his body is screaming at him to keep going, he always wants to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Though it’s an awkward position, Steve leans down, kissing the top of your head before pushing your head down, sinking you onto his length. 

“Thaaaaaat’s my girl,” He breathes, eyes flickering between your movements and you on his cock. The praise makes you clench and shiver, moan muffled as he fills your mouth. The noise’s vibrations on his length makes the sensation feel so sinful. “M’not gonna last long, angel.”

Steve guides your head along his cock, gently, but with a steady pace as his hips roll in tandem. “Think w- we can cum together?”

“ Mhmmm,” the vibration makes him buck into your mouth, and you gag, spit drooling down to the base of his length. It’s only a beat later your body begins to shake and your eyes roll back, hips stuttering and twitching against the plush object while groaning around Steve’s cock. 

Your climax hits hard, and the feeling of your lewd noises while your mouth is still on Steve leads him to moan out, the loudest he’s been so far, spilling his arousal into your throat. You gag, but push yourself to swallow while your eyes water. Steve’s barely finished before he pulls you off his length, bringing your face to his to sloppily kiss you. 

The action surprises you, and you’re breathless from your own high; the two of you moan into each other’s mouths as you finish, aftershocks slowing down as you come down.

Exhausted, you still manage to crawl into Steve’s lap, soaked heat rubbing against his half-hard length, earning overstimulated whines from the both of you. Your hips rut lazily against him.

“I want you, Steve.” You kiss his neck weakly, still drunk off the orgasm you shared. “Please?”

Steve groans, forehead pressing against yours. “You… you have no idea how badly I want to keep going, but I’m not pushing you.”

“I can take it, I swear.”

“Honey, you need a break.” It’s taking everything in him to not give in, especially with how wet you are against him. His cock twitches at the thought, but he pushes the desire aside. “If you really want to, we can work up to it. Take our time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Defeated but still clouded by satisfaction, you bury your head into his neck, sighing happily. “Okay, Stevie.”

“How are you doing now?” He rasps out, clearing his throat before he kisses the top of your head again, holding you close.

“Sleepy,” you murmur, body weight sinking into his hold on you. 

“I bet,” He whispers, gently moving you off his lap. You pout at the loss, but immediately let yourself fall into the pile of pillows and blankets on your bed. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Eyes heavy, you’re nearly fast asleep, jolting when something warm softly touches your core. Steve’s cleaning you off, and you jokingly murmur, “Hot towel? Damn, didn’t know it was a spa day.”

Steve stops, resting his head against your leg as his shoulders shake in a silent laugh. “Yeah, you need to rest.” He kisses your thigh before getting back up, cleaning himself off too.

In and out of sleep, you barely feel Steve dressing you in loose clothes, or climbing back into bed next to you. Little “thank you”s escape you, even if you’re not fully aware of how he’s taking care of you. It still earns a smile from Steve.

As he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your head pressed to his chest, you murmur, “I love you, Steve.”

Over the last several years, Steve’s normally vacant house became a safe haven for disasters like these, also a place where the kids could be together to just hang out on the quiet, normal days. He never said it, but he loved hearing the kids laughing and yelling, sometimes having movie nights, or playing DnD; it was a welcomed sound compared to the painful quiet he had grown used to for the majority of his life. 

Tonight, no inside jokes and endearing name calling echoed throughout the house. No fighting over which movie to play first, or what kind of pizza to order, or the shouting and cheering that usually came along with playing their favorite game. If anything, there were somber conversations, softly echoing through the house, with words and emotions no kid should have to be worried about. Sometimes there was crying, or complete silence, where the only thing Steve could hear was the faint, yet now permanent ringing in his ears he had gained over the last several years. Any which way a sound like these carried through the house, it broke his heart.

So, you try distracting him as the two of you clean one another’s wounds for yet another night. You keep things light where possible, but the both of you know it’s only a bandaid over a permanent emotional scar that is torn open time and time again. The physical wounds always heal, but the heartbreak you’ve all grown accustomed to is one that weighs so heavy on everyone’s hearts, and you can’t imagine it vanishing anytime soon.

“Yeah, I swear, it’s like you’re magically turning into a connect the dots picture, or something.” Steve smiles, laughing softly through his nose at your corny attempt to keep his mind off of the trauma.

“You think so? Maybe one of these days you should come up with a drawing out of ‘em.” Steve’s trying his hardest to keep things lighthearted, too, but sometimes it’s just easier to feel the pain instead of forcing any positivity.

“Jesus, this is gnarly.” You murmur, still amazed by the damage Steve took this time around as you’re softly swiping some kind of medicated ointment along the open wound. He hisses from the dull sting, but the substance begins to numb the ache and inflammation, bringing some sort of relief, if any at all. “Do you feel like a greasy slug when you use this stuff? Because I definitely feel like a greasy slug when I use it.”

Neither of you had figured out the best way to dress the wound around his neck, so Steve had been changing clean t-shirts like bandages every few hours. The others, at least, were relatively easy to clean and dress, but they seemed to be deeper; Steve probably needed stitches on some, but he refused to go to the hospital, insisting other people in town had worse injuries, and needed the medical attention more.

“I mean, I feel slimy… but not like a slug— Jesus, how much sleep did you get last night?” At first, you think he’s asking because of your silly remark, but then he’s cupping the side of your face, thumb gently rubbing along your cheekbone, getting a better look at the dark circles draped under your eyes. You push aside the butterflies in your stomach from his touch as you reach for his clean shirt, moving his arms out in front of you to roll the fabric down and over his arms and head. For a moment, you miss his touch, but it’s back on your face after he adjusts his shirt.

“Seriously, are you sleeping at all?” He asks softly, eyes filled with worry. Leave it to Steve to worry about everyone else before himself. 

You shrug as you look away, not wanting to make a big fuss. “Last night was just rough up here,” You poke at your temple. “That’s all. I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep easily tonight with how tired I am.”

“Where’d you sleep last night?” He asks, knowing decent spots to sleep were limited now that the all of the kids were reunited again. Everyone, except Max who was at the hospital, and Lucas, who refused to leave her side. Still, there were only so many places to rest for the entire group, even in a roomy house like Steve’s.

“Um… well, some of the kids had the pullout couch, one took a recliner, Robin has the guest room, and Jonathan and Nancy have your parents’ room… so I slept on the floor in the living room.” You shrug, but you know that contributed to the lack of sleep, and extra aches in your back. How you ever easily slept on the floor as a kid during sleepovers, you’ll never understand.

Steve looks bothered by this, letting go of your face as you move to the faucet to wash your hands. “What? Why didn’t you say something? You could’ve had my bed.”

You scoff a laugh out, “Steve, you need a real bed after everything you’ve been through. I can handle the floor like a big kid.”

“Okay, well, tonight you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the floor, I don’t mind. Or I can sleep downstairs somewhere if you want sp—”

You shake your head wildly. “Don’t- I don’t wanna be alone again.” You maneuver around Steve as he slides off the counter, and you take his spot to let him tend to your wounds next. Finally, you confess, “I fell asleep once, and it was just one giant nightmare. I stayed up after that. Didn’t want to see that shit again.”

Steve washes his hands, lips pursed and brows furrowed as he keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. The two of you always trusted one another, always came to one another whenever you needed, so why the hell were you isolating yourself now?

“Next time, tell me. Wake me up. I don’t care.” Steve’s tone is firm, but he’s not upset with you. Just upset that you’re retreating into yourself when he just wants to help. 

He starts peeling off the butterfly bandages around the slit skimming vertically down your eye. It begins just above your eyebrow, running down to your brow bone, pausing across your eye before continuing just under your lash line, finishing off past your cheekbone. Instinctually, your eye begins to squint closed, but the action tugs at your skin, stinging along the edge of your wound. 

“Steve, you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since high school. Why would I wake you up when you need the rest?” He starts cleaning the wound, sighing to pause himself, think carefully about what he wants to say next. You keep going. “I actually did come in last night, but you were sound asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up, not when you need the rest.”

“Close your eye for a second.” You do, appearing as if you’re failing an attempt at winking. Steve’s gently patting the cut with some sort of medical disinfectant on a cotton ball, heart aching little by little as you whimper in pain. You try keeping quiet, knowing your wounds are nothing compared to his. “You can cry you know. Or curse. Or yell. Or whatever. Stop trying to hide it.”

“Mine are like… paper cuts compared to yours.” He pats the wound dry with a new piece of cotton, sighing again. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide your pain from me. I’m not sure if you’re worried its a burden to anyone, or whatever, but you never hid from me before. What happened?” Steve begins to apply clean butterfly bandages along the deep slit in your skin. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to your lips, and you have to remind yourself your other face wound is a split in your lip. “Gotta get that next.”

“I can do it.”

“Nope, if you’re gonna nurse all of my wounds, it’s only fair if I do that for you in return.”

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“No, but I want to. You’re my best friend, and you’ve been patching up my wounds since we were reckless little shits on the playground. You care about me, let me care about you.” His thumb gently presses on the untouched side of your bottom lip, holding it steady so he can begin fixing that one up, too. You’re too aware of how the pad of his thumb feels against your lip, wondering what it’d be like to wrap your lips around it and take him into your mouth.

“See, this is why I gotta hold your lip, you’re so twitchy.” Steve teases, unaware of why your bottom lip trembles every now and then when he’s so close. Is he really that clueless? “After this, you’re sleeping in my bed. I’ll carry you and lock you in my room if it means you’re gonna sleep like a normal person tonight.”

Your skin prickles and hair stands on end at his words. He really has no idea what he does to you with silly comments like these.

“Okay, but like…. What if I have to pee in the middle of the night?”

Steve stops his movements, snorting as his eyes close while a smile graces his features. With a shrug, he simply answers, “Hold it.”

Your jaw drops, feigning offense. “That’s fucked up, Steven.”

“So is sleeping on the floor instead of a bed.”

“You need it more than me!”

“Will you shut up for like, ten seconds? I’m almost done with this.” He’s stifling his own laughter, before murmuring, “Not gonna lie, you’re gonna look so badass when these are healed.”

“Pfffft. Maybe, but no one’s gonna be attracted to this mess.” You’re only joking, but Steve frowns as he applies petroleum jelly to your lips, generous on your cut. 

“What? No fucking way. You’re still a babe.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve. No one’s gonna kiss me after this.” You chuckle, but notice the way his eyes flicker to your lips again, lingering longer than usual, then back to your eyes. His gaze is mesmerizing, with the warm brown color and hazel undertones, you can’t bring yourself to look away. 

“I mean, I w—”

“Hey, St— oh,” Robin’s in the doorway of the bathroom, smirking at the two of you. “Am I interrupting something?” You lean back, fingers curled around the edge of the counter while Steve’s standing up straight, taking a step back from you as he clears his throat.

“N- no, we were just fixing each other up.” Steve nervously spits out, adding a shrug like everything’s cool. 

“Right. Sure you were.” Robin teases. You want to shrink into yourself and completely disappear on the spot. “Where’s the box of movies you stole from work?”

You quirk a brow at her question, then look back at Steve. “You did what?”

“Shut it— I didn’t— I borrowed them. Robin, stop spreading rumors about me.”

“Fine. Sure. You “borrowed” them,” She flashes air quotes with her fingers, and you laugh. “Where are they? The kids are driving me up a wall trying to find them.”

Steve looks puzzled, chuckling. “They’re literally right next to the damn TV. Dustin should know that by now.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh my god,” she turns out of the room yelling down the stairs, “Dustin! Get your shit together, man!” Before walking away, she glances at the two of you again with a smirk, “Have fun playing doctor, or whatever.”

“Leave.” Steve points out the door as Robin’s already leaving.

“Yeah, you showed her.” You tease Steve, trying to let go of what he was about to say before Robin barged in. You’re sliding off of the counter, and Steve playfully pushes your shoulders from behind, forcing you out of the bathroom.

“Alright, smart ass, let’s go.” He nudges you across the hall to his room, but you try turning away. Swiftly, he turns you back towards the door. “I wasn’t kidding, I’ll throw you over my shoulder if it means getting you to sleep in a bed.” He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders, pushing you through the doorway comically.

“Steve, if you wanted me in your bed so bad, all you have to do is ask nicely.” You’re not even trying to be coy or flirt, but it makes him choke on air. You spin around quickly, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I— wrong pipe.” He rasps out, clearing his throat. You don’t buy it, realizing your lazy joke was the reason for his coughing fit. Still, you let it go, not wanting to embarrass him. Steve continues clearing his throat as he pulls some old blankets out of his closet, and some pillows from his bed to lay out on the floor.

“Stay in your bed, I’ll take the floor, it’s fine.” You’re trying one more time, hoping he’ll stop being so stubborn and sleep in his fucking bed. 

“Why are you so damn stubborn?” He wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up off the floor slightly, carrying you a few feet over before dropping you into his bed. 

“I was just thinking the same about you.” You murmur, arms crossed as you look at the bed behind you. You realize how big it is, and have an idea. “If you won’t let me sleep on the floor, just sleep next to me. There’s plenty of room for the both of us anyway.”

“Sleep— sl— next to you? Same bed?” Steve’s voice cracks, pulling giggles out of you. 

“Yes, Steve. Same bed. Unless you’ve got another one hiding around here.” You’re surprised you’re even suggesting this when the idea makes you incredibly nervous, but you need sleep, and Steve needs sleep, and you’re out of any other ideas. “If you want it to yourself though, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No- I- stop it, I’m gonna sleep on the floor, and that’s final.” His hands are on his hips, his signature, go-to move when he’s scolding the kids, but you’ve qualified for its appearance tonight, too. You rise to your knees on the bed, hitting eye level with him while you mirror him, hands falling to your hips in the same pose he has. 

Steve isn’t having it, and before you can start verbally teasing him, he’s pushing you back into bed. You catch yourself on your hands as you stumble back onto the pillows. “I’m gonna superglue you to the bed.”

“Now you’re just being a child.”

“Me? You were just—” Steve sighs, hand dragging over his face. “Just go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to!” Your bottom lip is wobbling as your bloodshot eyes tear up ever so slightly; you’re doing all you can to hold them back, reminding yourself logically this isn’t that serious, but your emotions show otherwise.

If anyone else in any normal circumstances yelled this, they’d be deemed childish. You, on the other hand, you’re yelling this for perfectly valid reasons. And Steve knows what you’re feeling all too well. One more time, his heart breaks for you, watching the panic spread across your sleep deprived face.

“I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to watch you get hurt over and over again in my nightmares. I’ve seen that too many times in real life, it’s sickening watching you get beaten to death time and time again… and I just— fuck. Steve, just take the fucking bed. Please? I don’t want to sleep, and you need it more than me, I really don’t mind the fl—”

Steve sits next to you and pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly against him. That’s when the floodgates finally break. You grip onto his shirt, balling the fabric into your fists as you begin crying on his shoulder.

“M’not going anywhere. Promise. You’re safe, I’m safe, everyone’s okay.” You know that’s not completely truthful; Max is hanging on by a thread in the hospital, and Eddie’s gone. Steve knows this, but right now his concern is getting you to finally fall asleep. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you lay down.” You expect Steve to gently nudge you to the pillows alone, but he keeps his hold on you, carefully laying the both of you down. “You sure you’re okay with me staying in bed?” You nod against his shoulder, wrapping yourself around him as if that’ll anchor him here for good. 

“Don’t go,” You’re mumbling into the fabric of his shirt, wanting to tug yourself closer to him, hang onto him like a clingy koala, but you’re trying to stay mindful of his injuries. 

“Not going anywhere.” Steve whispers, kissing the top of your head before lingering for a moment. “Not going anywhere without you.” Neither of you untangle from one another, and Steve’s embrace is starting to calm you down to steadier breathing and shaky hiccups instead of heavy crying filled with anxiety and dread. With your body desperate for rest and the security you feel with Steve, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull you in. Steve’s snoring softly shortly after you fall asleep.

———

At some point in the night, the two of you untangle, rolling to opposite sides of the bed. Steve’s woken up by movement, strange shifting in the bed next to him, and an airy whimper, just loud enough for him to hear. He rubs his eyes, turning over and sees your figure, facing away from him, remembering that the two of you fell asleep in his bed. 

Steve’s not sure what time it is, nor does he really care, especially not after hearing another soft noise float from your parted lips. Trying to adjust to the dark surroundings, despite the weak glow from a night light plugged in, he stares at you, or what he can see, at least, worried you’re having another nightmare. He moves closer and leans over you, prepared to wake you up and give comfort if you need, but you don’t look scared. If anything, you look pained, frustrated; Steve’s eyes scan down your figure as you move again, noticing the way your hips roll forward against your own hand.

Holy shit.

Frozen, he can’t take his gaze off of you. He needs to. He should roll back over and force himself back to sleep, pretend he never heard anything, never saw you—

“Steve…” You murmur, languidly grinding against the heel of your palm, face buried into the pillow as you writhe under his imaginary touch. His mind starts spiraling.

That’s why you got nervous when he held your lip, or when you mentioned how with a lip scar inevitable in the near future, no one would want to kiss you, and the way the two of you couldn’t take your eyes off of one another. How you looked so mortified when Robin walked in, forcing the two of you apart. He begins to realize how this isn’t new, this has been going on for awhile, and he can’t believe how oblivious he’s been.

The signs have always been in your lingering touches, when you lock eyes with him and share knowing glances no one else would understand, the way you’ve always tried protecting him, or tending to his now routinely scheduled injuries whenever he’s caught up in anything related to the Upside Down. It’s always been in the way you’d give up your comfort for him, how you’d never complain if he woke you up from nightmares, calling at three in the morning. 

How it’s an unspoken pact between the two of you to share your fries with one another, or when one falls asleep early during movie nights, the other thoughtfully covers them in a blanket, letting them rest. How you always keep extra medical supplies in your car just for Steve’s clumsy ass. How he’s sneaking you video tapes for free whenever you visit him at work. How you insist on calling him exactly at midnight on his birthday. 

You’d drop everything in an instant for Steve, and he’d do the same for you without hesitation. Whenever he tries to put your needs first, you’re quick to point out that someone needs to care about him, too.

Steve can’t believe how clueless he’s been, and out of all the times he’s figuring this out, it’s now, while you’re having a wet dream about him. Because of fucking course it would hit him now.

While his thoughts ran in a million different directions at once, he wasn’t aware of how hard he became, hearing your cute little noises, and how he’s still pressed right against you from behind. Does he let you continue? Does he wake you up? If he does, what’s his excuse? Lie and say it was a nightmare? Or tell you the truth, risking ruining something before it could ever begin, embarrassing you on the spot?

Without warning, you turn over, still asleep as your arms slip around his torso loosely, as if you’re still trying to be careful with his wounds while knocked out. One of your legs slot between his, and Steve has to bite back a groan at the pressure against his bulge. As if that alone wasn’t threatening to make him fall apart, your hips begin moving lazily again against his leg, and he can feel your sticky heat on his skin through your sleep shorts. Steve’s about to lose his fucking mind.

“Stevie, wanna make y’feel good…” You’re still asleep as you murmur this. Steve knew you talked in your sleep, but never like this. He can’t take it anymore. One hand ends up on the hip facing away from the bed, while the other is drawn to your neck, curling to the back to hold you gently as his fingers slide up into your hair. 

“Wanna make you feel good too, angel.” He’s guiding you slowly along his thigh, tensing up underneath you; he’s not sure how to wake you up without startling you, and he doesn’t want the building desire to end so soon. 

In time with his thoughts, you begin to stir, eyes fluttering open. You blink a couple times, then Steve nudges against your core again, and you keen, throwing your head back into his hand already waiting for you.

“Oh- oh, fuck, oh my god…” You’re growing aware of the situation, realizing your dream is becoming reality so seamlessly. You’re embarrassed, you want to hide away and apologize, but Steve rubs himself against the leg you have pressed against him, releasing a throaty groan; the embarrassment falls away, fast. “St- Steve?”

“Yeah?” He’s trying not to pant this soon, trying not to sound so breathy and needy already.

“M’sorry, I- I didn’t realize that I—”

Steve shushes you softly, bringing your face closer to his as he leans in, noses touching while you’re both making the sweetest noises together. “I can stop, if you want. I- I shouldn’t just assume you want this, maybe it was a silly dream—”

“No, it wasn’t… I really want you, Steve.” Your hands test the waters, sliding up his body, but only over his shirt, before holding his face; your gaze locks with his, and despite the dim glow in the room, you can see the lust ridden look he’s giving you while nodding wordlessly to give his consent. You lean in to kiss him, lips touching ever so slightly; you freeze as self doubt sets in, but he senses it, and kisses you back fully, mindful of your split lip. 

It’s slow, almost too slow for you and how wound up you are from the dream, but you do your best to stay patient. Steve’s hand on your hip sneaks under your shirt, just enough that the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, just beneath the hem. The hand cradling the back of your head moves to your jaw, fingers splaying out to get a better hold on you when his lips part against yours. You make some kind of small noise, a muffled yelp that slips into Steve’s mouth when his tongue slips into yours. Distracted by the kiss, your hips stopped rolling, so Steve begins guiding you along his thigh again.

A moan shudders out of you as you pull back to catch your breath. Steve can’t take his eyes off of you as your eyes flutter shut, head falling back as another sweet moan leaves your lips, losing yourself in the pleasure from such a simple action.

You’re not sure when, but your hands made it to Steve’s back, fists bunched up with the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to touch any part of him that might hurt, but needing to grab something. 

“Does th- this happen a lot?” He manages to ask, and in his head, he’s rolling his eyes at himself, because he wanted that to sound so much sexier than it did. You’re in a whole different world, though, already blissed out when barely anything has happened yet.

“Mhm,” You open your eyes as you answer, the burning desire low in your body growing hotter as the two of you make eye contact again. “Can I- can we— take this stupid thing off.”

Steve laughs, realizing maybe sexy isn’t what either of you need right now; being best friends already, it only makes sense that the only time the two of you can’t form coherent thoughts laced with lust would be when you’re pressed up against one another for the first time.

Pulling his hands back, he gestures to his shirt in the goofiest way, like he’s Vanna fucking White, showing off a purchased vowel. “You can’t take this seriously, can you?” You’re not mad, in fact, you’re laughing with him, and something about the two of you nervously laughing makes you more comfortable being intimate with your best friend. 

“I’m just filling in the blanks for you, angel.” He’s smirking, but he’s also trying to stifle more laughter, so it just comes out as a product of a snicker and a snort. 

“Oh, that was real cute,” You tease, reaching for his waist. “Words, words are hard.” You’re grumbling, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt, carefully pulling it over his head.

“Yeah, don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”

Whatever smart-ass retort you had ready to roll off your tongue disappears at the sight of Steve, now shirtless. It’s nothing new to you, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but in the moment, you’re hyper aware of how different this is. There’s no going back, but if you were being honest, there was no going back once you moaned his name in your sleep.

“What?” Steve asks, laughter dying down as he watches you reach out to his torso, tracing his scars, both old and the ones just beginning to form. 

“You’re so… pretty.”

Steve blushes, a rosy red shade blooms across his face, to the tips of his ears. “I— shut up.”

You scoff, “I’m being honest!” He tugs at the bottom of your shirt, waiting for your permission, but your hands hold his back, shaking your head. Shyly, you state the obvious, “I don’t have a bra on.” Of fucking course you don’t, you never sleep in bras. Even Steve knows that, forever impressed with how you could just unhook that damn thing with one hand so casually and slip out of it, pulling it out of your shirt without ever stripping. It’d take everything in him to hold his jaw from dropping, when you just wanted out of a ridiculously uncomfortable bra.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve reassures softly, only to follow it up with, “I don’t either.”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m going back to sleep,” You tease, beginning to roll back over, but Steve grabs you quickly to roll you on top of him instead. 

“Like hell you are,” He’s tugging at your shirt again, looking up at you with those sweet doe eyes, filled with wonder and curiosity over what his best friend looks like under everything. “Don’t feel pressured to say yes. We can st—”

You’re pulling your shirt off with a determined speed, like ripping off a bandaid, throwing it on the floor. “I do not look good with these bruises.” 

Steve sits up, all humor and admiration draining from his features as he takes in all of the severe bruising you have from a few days ago. “Wh… how— why didn’t you show me? Or tell me? Fuck, I probably made some of them worse—”

“Hey, Steve, it’s okay. Seriously. I’m okay. These are nothing compared to what you ended up with.”

He shakes his head, ghosting his fingers over some of the worst bruises, blooming in the darkest shades of purple and blue he’s ever seen on someone, including himself, and that says a lot. Some are beginning to grow into that sickly yellow, even greenish color. 

“What the hell do I have to do or say to convince you that you’re allowed to show me your pain too?” He’s not sure what he’s feeling, he just wishes you said something, wishes he knew so he could care for you properly.

“There’s not much you can do for bruises, Steve.” You shrug. “M’sorry, I just wanted to put you first. You’re always caring for everyone else before yourself, and I wish you’d let someone care for you, too. I want to give you the love and care you give everyone but yourself. These mean nothing to me, I just didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Disappointed? From what? How you look with these? Because I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re still a babe with your face wounds, and that applies here too. You have… no fucking idea how badly I want to get my hands all over you, but I think we should stop. I don’t want to make those more painful than they already are.”

“Steve, I can handle it. I bruise like a peach, anyway.” You’re mentioning it casually, but enjoy the way he blushes at your words, clearly thinking of better reasons to be bruised. You smirk, “Feel free to tuck that fun fact away for another day.”

“I— I’ll bring that back up later.” He murmurs, trying to focus. “Anyway… are you sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hands, bringing them to your tits roughly. “Does this answer your question?”

Enthusiastically, Steve nods, fingers already toying with your nipples, breathing out, “Fuck yeah it does.” You start giggling until he latches onto one of the sensitive nubs, fingers softly pinching at the other every so often, in between grabbing a handful of you. He groans into your skin, thinking about how long he’s wanted to touch you like this, but it’s better than he imagined. 

You’re arching your back as he switches sides, a thread of spit unraveling from his lips that’s still clinging to you;  your eyes to roll back as you grind down onto his lap from just the sight alone, fingers twisting into his locks, tugging softly as he sucks, bites, soothes with his tongue, then repeats.

“I need…” You’re gasping, head falling back; Steve takes advantage of your exposed neck, kissing up your chest before leaving small, soft love bites up to your jawline. 

“You need… what?” He kisses the corner of your mouth, but you can’t take it slow anymore, you need him now. You grab his face to kiss him, and it’s a little sloppy, a little clumsy, but he leans into it anyway. The two of you find a semi perfect rhythm, one that flows with the way you continue to grind onto him. You nip his bottom lip, tugging on it before letting go, and Steve moans into you. 

“Need you, need you right now.” You’re frantically murmuring against his lips.

“We don’t have to rush.” He pulls back, searching your features for any sign that something is off, but all he sees are your lust blown pupils. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but—”

You kiss him quickly before pushing him back against the pillows, shimmying down his body, kissing his scars with care along the way, continuing down until you reach the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Steve, quit being nice for, like, five minutes. Are you okay with this?”

With a gulp he nods, breathing heavily “I— I’m more than okay with this.”

“Thank fuck.” You tug his shorts down, almost drooling as you watch his length spring free, the rounded tip red with desire, leaking precum. “Steve, what the fuck.”

“You’re sending me so many mixed signals tonight, holy shit. Is that … is that good?”

You need to shut your mouth, mind too far in a cock-drunk daze to tease him with words. So, you run your tongue up the underside his cock, broadly, taking your time to reach the head, eyes on him the entire time. Steve yelps on contact, eyes screwing shut as his head falls against the pillow, but he pushes himself to look down at you, bucking against your tongue before you take him in completely.

“Jesus fucking Chri-iiiiiiiist,” He shudders out, hands tangling into your hair as you begin to bob up and down on him. “This… you… hhhhohmygod—”

You pull off with a pop that echoes off the walls, a sound Steve wishes he could’ve recorded to play when he gets off in the future, followed by the sight of you drooling onto his cock as it kicks with need.

“Tell me how you really feel, Steve,” You tease before taking him in again, but he holds your head in place, making you pout. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no, fuck no. Your mouth feels so fucking good, angel, but I need… I…”

“Take your time, babe, it’s okay.” You tease, making Steve groan, both with annoyance and a craving for you to get mouthy, just not now. 

“Fuck me, just need you to fuck me, please baby,” He’s babbling as he tugs you back up his body, hands on your hips as you hover above his cock. “Need to feel you, angel.”

You push your shorts down and throw them to the floor with your shirt. “Yeah?” You lightly rub your core against his cock, and he bucks with a desperate whine. 

“Yes, please, please—”

Words become nonexistent as you sink down onto him slowly, walls slowly stretching around him, adjusting to his size.

“Knew you w- were big, but not like… not like this.” You’re panting, overwhelmed by the slight pain from taking him to the hilt, but the pleasure is greater, rendering your brain useless. Not a damn thing on your mind except Steve and how fucking good he feels so deep inside of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Steve gasps, grip digging into your hips roughly, knowing he’s just adding to your bruises, but he’ll apologize later. “You’re so— never felt a pussy tighter than yours, angel. M’god, don’t fucking move.”

You giggle, and he glares at you. “Don’t— do not do that either, just… fucking sit there for a second, okay? I’m really not trying to blow my load this early.” You’re doing your best to keep stoic, nodding as you fold your hands and wait patiently. “Oh my god, why are you like this?”

Shrugging, you begin to reply, “Why n— oh!” Steve pulls you down to him roughly, kissing you as he begins to move, fucking you slowly from below. He guides you by the hold on your hips, bouncing you on his cock, causing your eyes to roll back as he moves a hand to the back of your head. Holding you tightly against him, your forehead rests against his as the two of you gasp and pant lewdly onto each other’s lips. You’re riding him like no one else has, to the high fucking heavens, and he swears he’s gonna die a happy man right here, underneath you.

“How often have you dreamt about this?” You shamelessly ask, sitting up and leaning back as you roll your hips, grinding down so he hits your sweet spot just right. Steve’s speechless, flexing up into you, jaw slack as your walls flutter around him. “You’re so pussy-drunk right now, huh?”

A strained “Mhm,” leaves him; he’s not even going to hide how he’s putty in your hands, right now, and as long as you’ll have him. Finally, he rasps, “Fuck, wish we did this sooner.”

“We got all the time in the world to make up for it, Stevie.” Your legs twitch and shake, signaling you’re not far off from your high, but they’re also sore still from days ago, and right now, you’re just making them hurt more. Great cause, of course, but it doesn’t dull the pain, so you’re beginning to slow down. “Fuck, my legs hurt.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Steve pulls you back down arms wrapped around your back, one hand gripping around his other wrist, keeping you stable as he plants his feet against the bed, fucking up into you with everything he’s got. “It’s okay, angel, I’ve got ya’.” He grunts, hammering into you with so much force, you can’t help but moan loudly, almost screaming, but you bury your face into his shoulder, biting down to muffle your noises as you flutter around him. “Fuck, didn’t think you were so vocal.” At this point, you are screaming, but the noise barely leaves you as you keep your mouth on his skin.

Steve’s hips are starting to stutter, and his cock twitches, needy for release. “Good girl, don’t wanna wake up the whole house, right?” That’s the final push over the edge for you; grabbing Steve’s face, you kiss him deeply to keep quiet. The faint, metallic taste of blood works its way onto your tongue, and you realize your semi-treated split lip is split once again. You pull back, trying to keep as quiet as possible, frantically whispering, “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you—” Following you into bliss, Steve pulls you back onto his lips as he cums, filling you shamelessly as you still squeeze him, milking him for all he’s got as he’s moaning into you.

When the two of you come down, covered in a sticky sheen of sweat and hearts ready to beat out of your chests, the shame hits fast as he pulls back enough to murmur, “Fuck. I didn’t even ask—”

“Birth control is a beautiful thing, babe.” You smile down at him, breathless. Steve sighs relief, thankful for whoever the fuck created the pill. His eyes fall to your lip before thumb swiping the mess away.

“Shit, m’sorry.”

“Worth it. So fucking worth it.” You giggle before he kisses you softly. 

Pulling back, Steve reaches out to cup the side of your face, and you lean into his touch, giddy and exhausted all at once.

He’s admiring the view of you above him, softly replying to your confession, “I love you, too.” 

The two of you are basking in the afterglow of one another, beaming and holding each other tight, unable to move just yet. Steve doesn’t mind taking a second to catch his breath, but then a loud bang against his bedroom door startles the both of you.

“About fucking time!” Robin shouts from the other side before walking away. Faintly you hear her huff, “Noisy assholes.” Steve locks eyes with you, both of you stunned and embarrassed before bursting into a fit of laughter together.

“Still worth it?” Steve teases, and you shrug playfully.

the problem with steve, at least in his own extremely fair and very rational opinion, wasn't that he was bad at dating.

he had rules, a system. a whole carefully built little routine that he had been refining for months, maybe longer if he was being honest.

he showed up on time. he dressed well. never overdressed, never underdressed. just enough effort to look like he had put thought into it without looking like he had spent three hours in front of a mirror. he held doors open, remembered names, asked questions that made people feel interesting, and listened with the kind of attention that usually made people lean in a little closer and smile a little softer.

he was charming, too, when he wanted to be. not in a loud, showy way. not the way he used to be, back when charm was something he wore like a jacket that never quite fit right. now it was quieter, steadier, something he had grown into, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

and still, every single time, it went nowhere.

the dates always started well. sometimes they even ended well. there would be laughter, easy conversation, a shared dessert, an accidental brush of hands over the table that made steve’s brain do something deeply embarrassing. sometimes there was a kiss goodnight. sometimes there wasn’t.

either way, by the next week, something would shift. a text would come in that was polite and distant. a cancelation would happen twice, then not at all because the other person had simply stopped trying. once, someone told him he was “really great” which somehow felt worse than being told he was awful, because it meant there was no obvious answer to fix.

so he was left with this baffling, humiliating mystery of his own life. he was doing everything right. that had to mean something. it had to.

maybe love was just mean now. maybe it handed out false hope for sport. maybe there was some invisible test no one had thought to tell him about, and he kept failing it with the smiling stupidity of a man who had never been informed about it in the first place.

he was leaning against the chain link fence of the baseball field after practice, baseball cap pushed back on his head and whistle hanging uselessly around his neck, when he saw you.

you were standing near the parking lot with a little boy tugging at your sleeve, both of you half lit by the dying gold of late afternoon. the kid was holding a glove too big for his hand and talking at you with the urgency only little brothers and little brother adjacent people could possess.

you were listening with your whole face, smiling down at him like whatever he was saying mattered more than anything else in the world.

steve looked away first.

then looked back.

because apparently his life had also become that kind of humiliating. the kind where a person he'd never met before managed to make him forget how to breathe for a second.

you caught him looking and gave him a polite, curious smile.

he did what he always did when he was caught off guard by something beautiful. he made it worse by trying to be smooth.

“you here for the game?” he asked, walking over before his brain could file a complaint.

you glanced at the field, then back at him. “my brother. he’s obsessed with baseball for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me.”

the kid beside you brightened. “because it’s awesome.”

“see?” you said, with exaggerated patience.

steve laughed before he could stop himself.

you smiled at that, and something in his chest did a slow, inconvenient turn.

“steve,” he said, lifting a hand a little awkwardly.

“i know” you said.

he blinked. “you do?”

“you coach, right? my brother talks about you like you’re some kind of baseball legend.”

“i don’t know about legend.”

“no, i think he said, and i quote, ‘coach steve is the coolest adult alive.’”

steve pressed a hand to his chest. “wow. that’s actually very accurate.”

that made you laugh, really laugh this time, and he felt stupidly victorious for about half a second.

your brother had wandered off to chase one of his friends by then, leaving the two of you standing a few feet apart near the fence, the noise of the field and the last calls of the other kids and parents thinning out around you.

steve asked your name. you gave it. he repeated it like it mattered, like he was trying it on for size. maybe he was. then, because he had apparently decided subtlety was for people with less at stake, he asked if you would maybe want to get dinner sometime.

it was not smooth, it was not his best work, it was, however, sincere.

you studied him for a second that made his pulse kick against his ribs. then you tilted your head and smiled in a way that made him suspiciously hopeful.

“yeah,” you said. “i think i’d like that.”

and just like that, steve was back in the game.

he spent the next week in a state of organized panic.

he picked the restaurant carefully, something nice but not intimidating, the kind of place where the lighting was flattering and the music was low enough to let conversation breathe. he ironed his shirt. changed his mind about three different shirts. called robin and then immediately regretted it because robin had lots of opinions.

“so,” she’d said, “you finally found someone who won’t treat you like a mildly annoying decorative object?”

“i never said my dates treat me like that.”

“you didn’t have to, i know your tragic little heart.”

“do you want to help or not?”

she had. sort of. in the way robin helped, which meant she insulted him affectionately then offered one genuine piece of advice at the end like a magician producing a dove from a hat.

“stop performing,” she’d said. “you do this thing where you decide ahead of time exactly who you need to be, and then you get weird when the other person is a person and not a checklist. just… be there. actually be there.”

he had stared at her, she had stared back.

“that’s it?” he asked.

“you asked for dating wisdom, not the meaning of life.”

still, her words had stuck with him.

so when friday evening came, steve didn’t show up as a polished version of himself built to impress. he still looked good, because that was unavoidable and frankly not his fault, but he was less rigid about it. more human.

he brought flowers because he thought it was sweet, and because sweet was safer than clever. he rehearsed a joke in the mirror, hated it, then left the house without it.

when he knocked on your door, he had that nervous, hopeful energy he always tried to hide. he was holding the flowers in both hands like they might explode.

you opened the door looking so unfairly beautiful that for a second he forgot the name of the road he’d driven down to get there.

then you saw the flowers.

your face changed in a way he couldn’t quite read immediately, and his confidence took one long, stumbling step backward.

“these are for you,” he said quickly. “obviously.”

you covered your mouth, and he watched with growing horror as you started to laugh.

not cruelly. thankfully not cruelly.

just helplessly.

you made a face that was somewhere between apology and amusement. “i’m actually allergic.”

there was a beat of silence.

then steve blinked. “you’re joking.”

“i wish i was.”

you laughed again, and this time he joined in, because what else was there to do? he set the flowers carefully on the porch railing then he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling despite himself.

“cool,” he said. “great start. really strong opening for me.”

“i do appreciate the effort,” you said, still smiling. “and the gesture. i’m serious, it was very sweet.”

“sweet is what i was going for. though, apparently, also poisonous.”

“only to me.”

“noted.”

he expected the moment to turn awkward. instead it became one of those strange, easy things he never knew how to plan for. the kind he could never have designed with all his perfect little dating rules.

you stepped outside, closing the door behind you, and there was the briefest pause while the two of you figured out where to put your hands, where to look, how much to smile without it feeling like too much.

he asked if you were ready. you said yes. he opened the passenger door for you, and you made an exaggerated face that said he was absurdly committed to the bit.

“what?” he asked as you got in.

“nothing,” you said, settling into the seat. “just trying to decide whether i’m being courted or recruited into a very polite organised crime ring.”

“those aren't mutually exclusive.”

that got another laugh out of you, and for the first time all week, steve felt his shoulders loosen.

-

the drive there actually started surprisingly well.

which, considering steve's recent luck, should've probably been his first warning sign.

usually first dates came with awkward silences. not terrible silences, but the kind where both people were carefully trying to figure each other out. deciding what stories to tell. deciding which parts of themselves were acceptable to put on display first.

but somehow that never happened with you.

the conversation just flowed.

one minute he was pulling away from your house and the next he was halfway across town listening to you complain about a customer you'd dealt with earlier that week.

"and then," you said dramatically, "he asked to speak to someone who actually knew what they were talking about."

steve winced.

"ouch."

"right?"

"what'd you do?"

you grinned. "pointed him toward my manager. obviously"

he laughed loudly enough that he almost missed a turn.

after that the conversation seemed to move naturally from one thing to another. your jobs. your week. your little brother's latest baseball obsession.

it was easy, dangerously easy. steve couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten through a first date without mentally checking off boxes.

ask about family. ask about hobbies. don't talk too much. don't be weird.

with you, he kept forgetting the rules entirely.

and honestly?

it was nice.

by the time they reached the restaurant, steve was feeling good. really good. the flowers had been a minor setback, nothing more.

the date was back on track.

everything was fine, everything was absolutely-

"i'm sorry, can you repeat the name on the reservation?"

steve blinked.

"steve harrington."

the hostess frowned at the screen.

"one second."

that wasn't ideal.

a minute later another employee appeared, then another. steve immediately felt his stomach drop.

beside him, you shifted slightly.

"that's usually not a good sign."

"no" he admitted.

the hostess offered an apologetic smile. "we can't seem to find your booking."

steve stared. "what?"

he had booked it, he knew he had. he'd called days ago. hell, he'd written it down afterward.

"could it be under another name?" she asked.

"no."

a few more minutes passed until eventually the hostess returned looking genuinely sympathetic.

which somehow made it worse.

"i'm really sorry," she said. "we're completely booked tonight."

silence.

steve nodded once, slowly.

"right."

"i apologize."

"no worries."

there were, in fact, many worries.

because seriously? seriously?

first the flowers.

now this.

the two of you walked back outside.

the restaurant door shut behind you.

for a few seconds neither of you said anything. steve was already preparing his apology, he was working on a speech. something mature, something responsible, something that didn't sound like he wanted to throw himself into traffic.

"okay" he started.

you suddenly snorted.

steve looked over.

you had your lips pressed together failing miserably at holding back laughter.

and then you completely lost the battle.

a laugh burst out of you, loud and genuine, you doubled over slightly.

"i'm sorry," you managed. "i'm sorry-"

another laugh escaped.

"this is ridiculous."

steve stared.

then the absurdity finally hit him too, and suddenly he was laughing along with you.

right there in the parking lot like two complete idiots.

"i swear i booked it."

"I believe you."

"thank you."

"this is still hilarious."

he rubbed a hand over his face.

"i've never had a date go this badly."

you looked at him.

"really?"

"absolutely."

you smiled. "that's kind of impressive."

and somehow hearing that made him feel better. a lot better.

so you abandoned the plan completely.

twenty minutes later steve found himself pulling into a drive-thru.

something that had never once appeared in the grand steve harrington first date handbook.

you ordered burgers, fries, drinks. nothing fancy, nothing romantic, nothing remotely close to what he'd planned.

then the two of you parked in the corner of the lot and ate the greasy burgers in the car.

and somehow it was perfect.

you talked about everything, absolutely everything. childhood stories. favourite songs. movies you loved. movies you hated. terrible haircuts. embarrassing family members.

at one point you nearly choked laughing after hearing about steve's middle school attempt at impressing a girl by pretending he knew how to skateboard.

"what happened?" you asked.

"i hit a mailbox."

you stared.

"immediately."

you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes and steve couldn't stop smiling.

the weirdest part was that eventually he forgot he was on a date.

not because he wasn't interested. quite the opposite. he forgot because talking to you felt less like performing and more like existing.

at some point he started rambling, actually rambling. about baseball, about coaching, about the kids, about some completely pointless story involving a game from three weeks ago.

halfway through he realized he'd been talking for way too long.

normally that would've sent him into panic mode.

instead he glanced over.

you were listening. really listening. eyes fixed on him, smiling softly whenever he got animated, and for some reason that made his chest feel strange.

like maybe he wanted to keep talking forever if it meant you'd keep looking at him like that.

eventually the burgers disappeared, the fries too, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in ending the night.

"we could walk?" you suggested.

steve shrugged.

"a walk's pretty romantic."

"look at you."

"i'm a professional."

you rolled your eyes but smiled.

and so you walked.

for all of six minutes.

because apparently the universe had not yet finished with you.

the rain started without warning.

one second there were clouds, the next it was absolutely pouring.

"oh my god!"

you shrieked.

steve immediately burst out laughing.

"run!"

you were both soaked within seconds.

completely drenched.

your hair sticking to your face, your clothes ruined, the two of you sprinting toward the car while laughing so hard neither of you could breathe properly.

at some point your hand found his. or maybe his found yours.

neither of you really knew.

but suddenly you were running together through the rain.

for a brief second steve thought that maybe this date was cursed.

but if it was?

he honestly didn't care anymore because he was having the best time he'd had in years. maybe ever.

eventually he drove you home.

the heater blasted warm air. both of you still damp, still smiling, still occasionally laughing over something one of you remembered from earlier.

when he pulled up outside your house neither of you moved immediately.

then you looked over at him, a smile pulling at your mouth.

"thanks for the worst date ever."

steve immediately barked out a laugh, dropping his head forward.

"yeah." he rubbed a hand over his face, still grinning, "i'm pretty good at those."

you laughed softly.

and then there was one of those moments. the kind that wasn't awkward, just quiet. the kind where neither person really wanted to leave.

you looked at him, he looked at you, and then you tilted your head.

"so."

"so?"

"next date are we getting food poisoning or something?"

steve laughed, he really did, but honestly? he barely heard the joke. because his brain had immediately latched onto two words.

next date.

next.

date.

there was going to be another one.

you wanted another one.

you.

wanted.

another.

one.

he felt like he was floating.

"hopefully not" he managed.

"hopefully?"

"with my luck i don't want to make promises."

you smiled and god. that smile.

"maybe we should avoid public places altogether."

"smart."

"less opportunities for disaster."

steve thought for a second. "we could do something at my apartment."

you raised an eyebrow.

"brave suggestion, harrington."

he pointed immediately."movies."

"uh-huh."

"food."

"right."

"possibly board games."

you laughed, "okay."

and there it was.

a plan.

a second date.

something to look forward to.

you said goodnight a few minutes later.

steve watched you walk to your door, waited until you got inside safely, then finally pulled away from the curb.

the entire drive home he couldn't stop smiling. he tried, seriously, he tried, but every time he thought about the night another grin appeared.

because somehow everything that could've gone wrong had gone wrong and somehow it had still ended up being the best date of his life.

maybe robin was right, maybe the problem had never been finding the perfect date, maybe it had been finding the right person to have an imperfect one with.

and as steve pulled into his driveway with rain still tapping softly against the roof of his car, all he could think about was next weekend.

and you.

-

the next date went wrong too. obviously.

it started at his apartment. which, according to the plan the two of you had made, was supposed to eliminate any possibility of disaster.

no restaurants, no reservations, no weather, just movies, snacks, and the two of you. simple.

or so steve had thought.

because somehow he managed to burn the popcorn.

not slightly burn it, not accidentally leave it in for ten extra seconds, he completely annihilated it.

you found him standing in front of the microwave looking so very offended.

"how?"

he pointed at the blackened bag, "i don't know."

"it's microwave popcorn."

"i know that."

"there are instructions."

"i followed them."

you stared, he stared back, you both looked at the popcorn, then immediately started laughing.

again.

because of course.

somehow the evening still ended with the two of you sharing snacks from his cupboards while sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch.

the movie barely held either of your attention.

every ten minutes one of you would make a comment, or tell a story, or laugh at something completely unrelated, and by the end of the night steve found himself thinking the same thing he'd thought after your first date.

that somehow it had been perfect despite absolutely not being perfect.

the date after that somehow went even better and also somehow worse, because steve's car broke down halfway to the drive in movie.

completely.

he sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring ahead, accepting his fate.

you sat beside him, equally silent.

then,

"so."

steve groaned, "don't."

"this is getting ridiculous."

he dropped his forehead against the steering wheel. "i know."

"are you cursed?"

"i might be."

you laughed.

you never made it to the movie, instead you ended up walking to a diner a few streets away.

sharing fries, stealing food off each other's plates, talking until you both forgot there had even been a movie to begin with.

it became a pattern after that.

something always happened.

plans changed, things broke, weather ruined things, food got burned, and yet somehow every single date still ended with steve driving home smiling like an idiot.

because at some point he stopped caring about the plan. he stopped trying to create perfect evenings, he stopped worrying about whether everything was going right.

because every time something went wrong, you just laughed, shrugged, worked around it together, and he night always ended up better than whatever he'd originally planned.

he thought that probably said something.

about you, about him, about whatever this thing between the two of you was becoming. because it was becoming something.

neither of you had said it yet, but steve could feel it.

every time he saw you, every time your name appeared on his phone, every time he found himself smiling at a text like some hopeless teenager.

and then there was the kissing.

god, the kissing.

that had gone very, very right.

for once.

your first kiss happened after another date that had gone completely off the rails.

steve couldn't even remember exactly what had gone wrong that night anymore, only that he was standing outside your house. that you were smiling at him and that there had been this moment.

one of those moments.

the kind where the world seemed to pause for a second. where neither person looked away, where neither person moved.

until eventually steve had quietly asked,

"can i kiss you?"

and you'd smiled. that soft smile he was becoming alarmingly addicted to.

then nodded.

and steve swore every thought in his head immediately vanished.

after that?

well.

it happened a lot. a lot.

he kissed you when he picked you up, kissed you when he dropped you off, kissed you halfway through conversations because he genuinely couldn't help himself. when you picked up your brother from games, he'd walk over and kiss you before even saying hello.

which always earned him dramatic gagging noises from the kids.

especially your brother.

"gross."

"thank you" steve would reply.

"i'm serious."

"i know."

and then he'd kiss you again just to annoy him.

which worked every single time.

sometimes you would show up at practice, sometimes he'd stop by your place after work, sometimes neither of you even had plans you just wanted to see each other.

weekends turned into weekdays, dates turned into casual evenings, phone calls turned into falling asleep with the phone still pressed against his ear.

and before steve really realized it, you had become part of his life.

something woven into the everyday. something that felt so natural it was hard to remember what things had looked like before.

which was probably why he got nervous.

because for all his confidence, all his charm, all his history with dating, this mattered. more than any of the others ever had.

which was why he spent nearly an hour talking himself into asking you out.

but he managed it eventually.

sitting beside you on his couch one evening. your legs stretched across his lap, a movie playing that neither of you were actually watching.

he looked at you, you looked at him, and suddenly every prepared sentence disappeared.

"hey."

"hey."

he swallowed. "this is gonna sound stupid."

you smiled. "okay."

"but i kinda wanted to ask something."

your expression softened.

"what?"

steve rubbed the back of his neck. already embarrassed, already nervous, already wishing he could somehow skip the part where he had to actually say the words.

but he did it anyway because you were worth being nervous for.

"would you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?"

there was a brief silence, just long enough for him to panic, then you smiled.

"yeah."

another pause, then you laughed softly. "i'd like that."

steve stared.

"really?"

you laughed harder.

"yes, really."

"seriously?"

"steve."

"right."

you shook your head, still smiling. "you're ridiculous."

he couldn't stop grinning. didn't even try. because somehow you had said yes. somehow this beautiful, funny, impossible person had looked at him and decided she wanted him too.

later that night, after you'd fallen asleep against his shoulder and he was sitting there trying not to move because he didn't want to wake you, steve found himself thinking about all the dates before you.

all the awkward conversations. all the dead ends. all the nights he'd driven home wondering what he was doing wrong.

wondering why nothing ever seemed to stick. wondering if maybe love just wasn't meant for him.

and maybe modern love was a cruel endeavour.

maybe dating sucked, maybe people hurt each other, maybe timing was terrible, maybe nothing ever worked the way it was supposed to.

but steve looked down at you sleeping against him, felt your hand loosely tangled with his, remembered every disaster date that somehow became a great night anyway.

and for the first time in a very long time, none of that seemed to matter.

because eventually he'd gotten tired of failing. eventually he'd said fuck it, whatever.

and that had led him straight to you. which, as far as steve was concerned, was the best thing that had ever gone wrong.

-

────────

“Where the fuck is the bride?”

You could hear Nancy’s voice call out in a panicked tone as she rushes around the bridal suite in her heels and bridesmaid dress.

“Robin, where did she go?”

“I don’t know!” Robin replies, standing near the door of the room as she watched Nancy pace nervously.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried feet come from down the hall.

“Have you guys seen Eddie?” Dustin calls out, looking around the room at the two girls.

“Eddie’s missing too?” Nancy worries, her voice becoming higher and more stressed by the second.

“Yeah. He said he was going out for a smoke, like, twenty minutes ago and now we can’t find him.”

“Fuck!” Robin calls out “The ceremony is in fifteen minutes. What the fuck are we going to do?”

Nancy quickly turns towards Dustin, giving him a serious look. “I want a full search party. Don’t stop looking until you guys find them. I’ll handle the guests. They’ve got to be around here somewhere. I swear, I’m going to kill them both when we find them.”

────────

“Eddie, we’re going to be late.” You worry, looking down at your fiancé as he kneeled in front of you- his hands snaking underneath your dress as you help him bunch it up. “You’ve gotta be quick.”

“Okay, baby.” Eddie promises, rising back up from the floor of the coat room before he presses his lips hungrily against yours “I’ll be quick. I can be quick.”

He reaches down to the button of his dress pants, popping it up as your manicured fingers grip his dick through the fabric.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful.” He whispers, backing you into the wall behind you as he kisses you hard. “So fucking gorgeous. My beautiful fucking bride. God, I can’t wait to see you at the end of that aisle.”

“Guess you really can’t wait, huh?” You laugh as you tug down his zipper, pulling your hand into his pants to free his hard cock.

“Nope. Not when you look like that.” Eddie pants as you begin to stroke his dick, slowly working from the base to the sensitive tip “Oh, fuuuck, that feels good, baby. Need to be inside of you. Right now.”

“Okay.” You nod “How do you want me?”

“Fuck,” Eddie moans “Turn around and put your hands against the wall. As much as I wanna watch how pretty my bride looks, I need to cum fast. Okay? That okay?”

“Yes.” You nod “Want you to cum fast. Want you to fill me up.”

And those words had Eddie in a fucking trance.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to cum inside of you? Hm? You want me to fill you up so good that you have my fucking cum dripping down your thighs when you walk down the aisle to me? Yeah? Fuck, the hottest part? No one out there is gonna fucking know that I bred you before the wedding even fucking started.”

“Eddie!” You gasp, slightly in shock by his filthy words but they were making you so wet

“Mmm! They won’t even have to know, sweetheart. We can keep this between you and me. No, nobody has to know that you’re such a fucking slut for my cum that I’m gonna put a baby in you by the end of the honeymoon. God, can you imagine it? My pregnant wife. Your belly all round with my fucking kid. God, Mrs. Munson, you’re gonna look so hot. S’that what you want?”

“Yes, Eds…” You whine out “Wanna have your baby. Wanna be your wife. Want your big fucking cock.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Stick that ass out for me. Thaaaat’s it…”

You do as you’re told, firmly placing your palms against the wall and arching your back for him. Eddie scoops up the back of your dress, holding it up in his fist as he uses his other hand to run his fingers up and down your clothed pussy.

“Fuck.” Eddie tsks “You’re fucking soaking. All for me. Yeah? All for your husband, baby?”

“Y-yes,” You gasp “All for you, Eddie. Please fuck me.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry. I’m gonna please my bride. But first, before you slip that ring on my finger, I need you to get off on them. Think you can do that?”

You nod desperately as Eddie smirks, watching over your shoulder as you admire him in his tux- ready for your big day. But first, he was ready to ruin you.

Eddie hooks his fingers into your panties, tugging them down your legs as he helps you step out of them- letting them sit in a pile on the floor.

The rough pads of his fingers glide up and down your slit teasingly, causing you to gasp and arch your back into him further.

“Fuck, baby. You are a fucking vision like this.” Eddie praises “My wife bent over and dripping for me. Letting me fuck you before our wedding. Being such a good girl and letting me fill you up before our honeymoon. Fuuuck….gonna give it to you so fucking good for treating me so well, sweetheart.”

The pads of his fingers meet your needy clit as he begins to rub it in slow circles, causing you to moan as your eyes roll into the back of your head in ecstasy.

“Oh, baby…” Eddie groans “Fuck, I don’t even need to fuck you with my fingers, do I? You’re already so fucking ready for me.”

“I’m always ready for you, Eds.” You pant as he begins to slide a finger inside of you, making you feel full with just the one digit.

“That’s right, baby.” He says “That’s why I’m marrying you. Well, I mean- that’s not the only reason but-“

“Eddie, just shut up and finger me, please.” You plead, your pussy aching for more.

“Okay, angel.” He laughs, leaving forward to press a kiss to your forehead “I got you, baby, I promise. Don’t worry.”

And when Eddie makes promises, he delivers.

Your back arches even further as he slips another finger inside of you, pumping them in and out of you in a way that turns you into a moaning mess beneath him.

“Oh my god, Eddie!” You hiss “Deeper, please.”

“Okay, Mrs. Munson.” He smirks “Whatever you wish.”

He plunges his fingers back into you as far as they could go, all the way down to the thick silver rings that adorned them.

“Fuck. Should’ve taken these off.” He says but you shake your head, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you focus on the feel of the cool metal that was almost deep enough to be inside of you.

“No, Eds. Feels good. So good.”

“Yeah?” He hums “Ready for more?”

“Please.”

Eddie begins to curl his fingers inside of you, brushing up against the perfect spot that had you gasping and desperate each time. It was his favorite part of foreplay, watching you fall apart for him on his fingers.

“Oooooh my god!” You squeak, causing Eddie to smirk as he watches you take his fingers. Right before your wedding ceremony. In a dark coat room near the back of the reception hall.

“Oh fuck! Keep doing that!” You cry out, feeling Eddie’s fingertips brush up against your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yeah? S’that where you like it, baby?” He teases, eyes glued to where you were gushing for him- the wet noises of your pussy becoming obscene inside the walls of the small room.

“Yes!” You cry out, his attack on your g-spot getting you closer and closer to your orgasm “Please, Eddie! Please, please, please!”

“You gonna cum, sweetheart? Hm?” Eddie patronizes “You gonna cum for your husband?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Gonna cum for you! Gonna cum so-“ you gasp “-Fucking hard!”

“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re gonna cum all over these fingers. Fuck, can’t wait to make you cum all over them every…single…fucking…day. For the rest of my goddamn life. Fuuuuck…c’mon, baby. Fuckin’ give it to me, doll!”

And that’s what throws you over, immediately hitting your high as you cry out in white hot desperation.

“Thank you!” You gasp desperately “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Oh baby, you’re welcome.” Eddie growls “Gonna give my wife everything she wants. Forever. Gonna give you this dick every night if you want it, baby.”

“I want it!” You pant, barely even finished with your climax “I want it. Please. Wanna make you feel good.”

“God, already?” Eddie raises his eyebrows “You don’t need a minute?”

“No!” You shake your head “No time! Need you inside of me! Need your cum!”

“Jesus Christ, baby.” Eddie chuckles, reaching into his pants to pull out his cock- throbbing and hot in his hand.

“Alright. I’ll give it to you, angel. Gonna give it all to you.”

It’s why you shouldn’t be surprised by the situation you’ve just caught your son in, but you’re still completely thrown off - frozen in his doorway with a stunned expression on your face.

“Mom!” He yells at you, panic lacing his voice.

In your defense, you had knocked on the half open door before coming in to ask him if he could move his load of laundry in order to start yours.

And because he was supposed to be studying, you definitely didn’t expect to find him kissing his girlfriend on his bed.

He scrambles away from her, running his hands through his hair - a nervous tick he’s picked up from Steve, and he refuses to look at you.

“Uh, hi Mrs. Harrington,” his girlfriend says, looking down at her hands bashfully.

She’s curled in on herself a bit, clearly flustered at the interruption.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you, um, staying for dinner?” You try to play it cool, not wanting to make her feel worse.

She picks at the fabric of her sleeve, “If you’ll still have me, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

You smile when she finally works up the courage to look at you, “Of course, you’re always welcome here.”

You can visibly see the tension release from her, but your boy isn’t off the hook so easily.

“Let’s keep the door fully open,” you quip, staring pointedly at him, “and move your laundry, please.”

“On it, Mom,” he replies, instantly grabbing the basket and booking it out of his room without so much as a backwards glance.

“Steve,” you whisper, grabbing at his elbow and gesturing for him to follow you into the downstairs bathroom.

He slips inside the tiny space with you, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Hate to break it to you honey, but we’ve got hungry kids in the dining room ready to eat. We don’t exactly have time for you to feel me up in here,” he grins teasingly, hands coming down to rest on your hips.

You roll your eyes, pushing lovingly at his shoulder, “I didn’t drag you in here to get into your pants, Steve.”

You’d been waiting for a chance to talk to him without tiny ears eavesdropping, which was quite the feat when everyone was home.

He notices your expression shift, and he furrows his eyebrows, “What’s wrong, honey?”

You explain how you found your boy with his girlfriend, and Steve nods along - listening carefully to the concerns you have over it.

“It’s just, this is his first girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure he’s starting to feel more for her,” you say, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“And?” He prompts, knowing there’s more - hands sliding to cup your lower back.

“And, I'm worried about him being sexually active at his age,” you admit anxiously.

“We've talked about this with him before, honey. And don't forget he had to sit through a whole sex education class with me in seventh and eighth grade. Poor kid couldn’t look me in the eye the whole time,” Steve reminds you.

“Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s stupid,” you bring a thumb to your lips, biting the skin there tensely.

Steve pulls your hand away, “Hey, none of that. Don’t want you hurting yourself, honey”

He presses a kiss to the tender skin you were prodding at, “And it’s not stupid. We can talk to him again if that’ll ease your worries, baby.”

“It would,” you reply, sighing in relief at the fact that he’s on the same page as you.

“Then we’ll talk to him after dinner,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, tugging you tighter to his chest, “I mean, we are experts after all.”

His teasing works, pulls a laugh out of you that encourages him to capture your lips with his - nose nudging yours, silently promising that the two of you will always be a team.

“Oh my god, are you seriously about to give me the talk? We’ve gone through this before, multiple times,” your boy emphasizes, wincing at the memories.

“Not necessarily the talk. We know you already know how it, uh, works,” Steve clears his throat.

“We just want you to be careful, hun,” you chime in, and you swear if your boy flushed anymore he’d be on fire.

“Mom, please stop,” he begs.

Steve cuts in, “You know we encourage waiting until you’re an adult. But we also know there’s going to be times where you have to make decisions on your own without our input."

Your son looks like he’s about ready to pass out from embarrassment, and you’d feel sorry for him if you hadn’t been the one that walked in on him, which is why you’re much more blunt about it than Steve’s being.

“What your father is trying to say is that, if you are having sex, which we don’t approve of you doing until you’re at least eighteen and as your parents, preferably even older than that. But if for some reason you are, you need to be using protection," you conclude.

His mouth flounders, jaw opening and closing - almost the spitting image of your husband when he does that.

“We aren’t,” he trials off, flailing his hands wildly like it’s supposed to fill in the blanks for you.

“You aren’t using protection?” Steve asks sternly.

“No! I mean, yes, if we were having sex. But I’m not,” he’s positively mortified now at the way you and Steve look at him in confusion.

“Not having sex, or not using protection?” Steve questions, wanting a clear answer.

“God, Dad, why do you have to keep saying it?” He groans, shutting his eyes.

“What? Sex? You know that’s in my job description, right?” Steve teases, trying to get him to lighten up.

He falls flat on his back on the bed and throws his hands over his face, “Believe me, I know.”

“Hun, I know this is an embarrassing conversation. Trust me, we don’t want to be having it either. But we love you, and it's because we love you that we want you to be making smart decisions,” you try to reassure him.

“I’m not having sex. I actually don’t think I’m ready yet,” he grows a little shy at the confession.

You feel yourself relax at the admission, “Oh. Well, okay then. It’s a good thing you recognize that, hun.”

“Mom, can you seriously not? I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he grits out, less self consciousness and more attitude seeping into his tone.

“Hey,” Steve says firmly, “Mom’s just doing her job, bud. It’s our job to help guide you with these things.”

He sits back up at that, “I’m sorry.”

You smile at him, patting his knee, “It’s okay, hun. I know it’s not a fun thing to talk about with your parents.”

“And, uhm, not that I’m trying to get out of this conversation, but do you hear that?” He points to the wall that borders your eldest girl's room.

The three of you fall quiet, ears straining to listen, and the tell tale sign of a window sliding open makes Steve jump out of his seat.

“If she thinks she’s sneaking out,” he grumbles, fleeing the room - stumbling down the stairs and through the front door.

Your boy looks at you in bewilderment, “How did he know that?”

“Maybe one day Dad will tell you about his ninja skills as he likes to call them, but today is not that day,” you grin.

“Not sure if I need to know why he refers to himself as a ninja,” he replies.

“Probably not,” you agree, “I’m gonna go check on them.”

You make your way downstairs and lean against the threshold of the door - peering out to look over at your girl’s bedroom window.

There’s a trellis that sits below it as it wraps over the first floor window. It allows her to swing her legs out and onto it - wobbling a little to right herself as she gently slides the window closed.

Steve’s planted himself under her window, hands on his hips - silently waiting for her to realize he’s there. You bite your lip in amusement at the sight, curious to see how he’s going to approach this.

When your girl turns around to start the climb down, she freezes at the sight of him.

They have a silent stare off before she gives him a sickly sweet smile - already trying to worm her way into the soft spot of his heart to let her off easy.

“Going somewhere?” Steve remarks.

“Nope, just uh, checking to make sure if there was an emergency I could get out,” she shrugs sheepishly, already knowing the excuse is weak.

“Uh uh, sure. Turn around,” Steve replies, standing his ground - making a circling motion with his hand.

“I’m sorry?” She tries, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Appreciate that, sweetheart. But you’re still grounded,” he raises his eyebrows at her.

She sighs, “For how long?”

“How long would I have been sick to my stomach, worrying about where you were?” He inquires, folding his arms.

She closes her eyes in defeat, “Two hours. So, two weeks?”

“Sounds fair,” Steve nods.

She picks up on his cues that he has more that he wants to say to her, and she waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“Please don’t ever try this again. Just ask Mom and I if you can go next time,” he pleads, frustration and fear lingering behind the words.

“You would’ve said no,” she grumbles.

“Maybe, maybe not. Guess you won’t know because you’re grounded and not going tonight,” he sasses her back.

“I really am sorry, Dad,” she says, eyes that look just like his begging him to forgive her.

“I love you. If anything had happened to you,” he trails off, not wanting to finish the statement.

She looks guilty at that, because she knows she put you and Steve through misery during her rebellious phase, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“That's all I can think of when you leave this home, that you return safely to Mom and I. And we can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are,” Steve clarifies, wanting her to understand the significance of why he’s upset.

She nods solemnly, “Okay, I understand.”

“Don’t think you’ll fully understand until you have kids of your own, sweetheart, but I appreciate you trying to,” Steve gives her a warm smile, communicating that she’s forgiven for scaring him.

“And I’m removing that damn trellis, by the way,” he calls out while she hauls herself back up into her room.

She narrows her eyes at him, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

You have to put a hand over your mouth to stop a giggle from slipping out at her quip - she always makes it glaringly obvious that she got her attitude from him.

“What the hell has gotten into our kids?” Steve asks you later that evening as the two of you relax on the couch, hand covering his face in disbelief.

Your legs were thrown over one of his parted thighs, and you were cuddled up under his arm - hand lazily tracing circles on the soft cotton of his sleep shirt.

Your younger babes were sleeping, and your oldest two probably weren’t, but at least they were safely tucked into their rooms. Steve was still jittery about your eldest girl, worried she was going to try to sneak out again - eyes flitting continuously to the front window.

“They’re teenagers, babe,” you remind him.

“Exactly, though. They’re teenagers, not adults. Why are they trying to do adult things?” He throws his hands up, raking them through his hair, before letting them fall back to rest on your legs.

“Steve, do you remember what you were like in high school?” You ask playfully, running your free hand through his soft locks that curl around his ear.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs heavily.

“Then why are you surprised that your children are literally just like you?” You smile, bringing your hand down over his thigh that’s not tucked under you.

He laughs under his breath, “Yeah, guess that’s biting me in the ass.”

“They’re not purposefully trying to stress you out, baby. They’re just growing up,” you trace your hand up and down his thigh, trying to soothe the built up tension in him.

He’s quiet for a moment, before he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes starting to rim red from holding back tears.

“Where did our babies go?” He asks, tone laced with distraught.

You press a kiss to his shoulder, “They’re still our babies, honey, just older.”

“You know, I look at them and think about how there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I’d do anything to protect them from making the wrong choices,” he reflects, eyes flicking back up the stairs to where his children rest.

“That’s because you were meant to be a dad, Steve,” you press a kiss to his jaw, hand curling around his bicep as you snuggle closer.

“Meanwhile, my parents didn’t give a shit about what I was doing with how often they were gone,” he scoffs, fingers running up the calf of your leg absentmindedly.

You frown, not liking where his thoughts seem to be heading as he stares straight ahead - face twisting in unease.

“What’s wrong with me?” He asks thickly.

“What?” You ask incredulously, not quite sure if you can believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

Steve’s parents had left Hawkins a long time ago, though they kept in touch here and there. You knew they loved their grandchildren to some extent through the gifts and money they sent. But you also knew they thought your family was much too big, too loud, and too messy - not living up to their own standards.

“How can I feel this all consuming, unconditional love for my children, but my parents clearly never felt the same thing for me,” he remarks, lost in the ugly thoughts his mind is throwing at him.

You feel like the wind is knocked out of you from the harsh words leaving his lips, “Steve, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There’s gotta be. Must’ve been some reason they couldn’t love me,” he replies dejectedly, still zoning out.

“Hey, that’s my husband you’re talking about,” you chide softly, reaching out to grasp tenderly at his jaw - trying to get him to look at you.

“I’m being serious,” he says, voice starting to wobble.

“So am I,” you shift, settling yourself fully in his lap, cupping his face tenderly.

A muscle ticks in his jaw, and you can tell he’s trying not to cry.

“Look at me,” you whisper, stroking at his cheekbones - ducking your head to meet his eyes.

“There is not a single part of you that’s unloveable, Steve Harrington,” you say it firmly, with a tone of finality - leaving no room for argument.

“But-,” he starts, and you cut him off - refusing to allow him to continue to think about himself in such a negative way.

“No. No buts. You were not hard to love then, and you are not hard to love now. You wanna know how I know?” You smile, starting to think of the mile long list of ways that makes loving him as easy as breathing.

He clenches his teeth together as the first drops of tears spill, “How?”

You lean your forehead against his, “When something goes wrong, do you know who every single person in this family turns to?”

He lets the words settle over him, trying to rub at his eyes. You stop him, replacing his hands with yours - fondly wiping the tears that trail his cheeks.

“You. Because we all know that you’re going to do whatever you can to make it better,” you tell him, and he sinks into your touch - head coming to a rest against your collarbones.

You can feel his intake of breaths becoming ragged, can feel the shake of his shoulders against you.

“And what about when you go watch their softball or baseball games? They run straight to you afterwards - no matter the outcome, because they know you’re going to be proud of them either way,” you add on.

Steve makes a pitiful sniffling sound, and it just about breaks your heart clean in half at having to hear those noises coming from him.

“Guess how many times they come home from school and ask me when you’ll be back from work because they’re desperate to tell you something about their day,” you wrap an arm around his back to hold him closer - free hand slipping into his hair to caress the back of his head.

He can’t answer with the way his throat has become tight, raw emotion bleeding from every part of him - breaking open at the unresolved pain that his parents caused.

“I honestly think you’re the most loved person in this house, baby,” you confide - nails running down the length of his back, trying your best to provide the dependable comfort he always shows you.

He makes a sound of protest, but you refute it, “You are, Steve. I’m so sorry your parents didn’t show you love the way they should have, baby. But that’s on them. Not you.”

You think about your next words carefully, trying to formulate what to say to ease his mind - aching at seeing him in distress.

“You know who does love you? Those teenagers - trying to act like adults because they know you’re gonna love them despite the choices they make. And don’t even get me started on the rest of them. God, they adore you, Steve,” your voice cracks, and your own eyes get glassy at the overwhelming gratitude that kicks up in your chest for him.

He breaks from your hold, leaning back against the couch to gaze at you adoringly.

You stare back, hand slipping to rest against the place where that radiant heart of his lies - feeling the steady rhythm it makes, “I fall in love with you more every day because I get to watch you be the best dad in the world.”

“Thought you loved me for my looks,” he mumbles jokingly.

“Oh well, that’s a given. You’re so hot, baby,” laughter bubbles up inside of you at his ability to lift the atmosphere.

He bites his lip, before gesturing to himself, “Even though I’m getting older?”

You smirk, “That just makes you more attractive, honey.”

His hands cradle your waist, thumbs slipping under your top - sweeping over the warm skin there as a serious expression takes over his features.

“Thank you for not letting me get lost in my head,” he says quietly.

“Would never let you, I love you,” you emphasize, reminding him once again because he deserves to be told so - deserves to know he’s worthy of every ounce of love that you could possibly give to him.

“Love you, gorgeous,” his lips curl up delicately, “c’mere.”

He tugs you to lay down against him, and the two of you listen to the sounds of your home - the hum of the refrigerator littered with drawings from your babes, muffled noise from the television that casts a soft glow across the living room, the creek of the stairs as little feet pad down them.

“Daddy?” The voice of your ten year old girl floats across the room.

“Yeah, babe?” Steve replies, turning his head to look at her.

“I can’t sleep,” she yawns tiredly, “can you read me a story?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll be right up,” he answers, watches as she clambers back up to her room to wait for him.

“Told you,” you smile affectionately.

You force yourself to move off of him, so he can go follow his girl - sinking into the cushions of the couch.

“You wanna come with me?” He asks.

You shake your head, “She wants you. Go take care of your baby. I’ll be waiting here for you.”

He leans over to kiss you slowly - plush lips working against yours measuredly, trying to communicate his love for you.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers when he pulls away, pecking your lips once more.

You nestle deeper into the couch, watching him as he moves up the stairs, eyes trailing the muscles moving in his back - wishing that he could see himself the way you did.

He may not have been shown love the way he deserved as a child, but he certainly worked his ass off to make sure each and every one of his children never felt that way; and in return, he had a home full of these perfect little humans whose whole world revolved around him - orbiting their dad because they knew his heart belonged to them completely.

Divider credits to @pixopix

Harrington Household Taglist: @daveythorntonslocker @mutual-future-repeat @cciessuzi @enchantedsharddetective @aria1108 @ann-aatn @willyoucry13 @soapyysofi @scoopstroop0704 @offbrandhandymanny @sweatydjoshoes @sckmyk1ss @storietilman @shadogirl @foreverdjofan @keerymylove @finniewolfsoft @st4rg1rl88 @straystar-8

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit. I wouldn’t know what I would do with that much money.”

Wayne shrugged his shoulders. “Buy a nice house wherever you wanna go, kid. It’s real life changing money.”

He thought back to his band first, about getting them into a studio somewhere, chase fame and fortune.

Then there was a burst of laughter from the front of the house. Steve laughing at some ridiculous thing that Robin had said and he knew exactly what he wanted to spend the money on.

“What if I wanted to create a work program for just out ex-cons so that they could learn new skills and be able to rejoin the work force?”

Wayne smiled. “I think that’s a great idea, Ed. You got lucky landing here where they’ll help you with that stuff. But how many other ex-cons have that luxury?”

“Not many,” Eddie said. Then he explained to Wayne the problems the Hope House was having because they couldn’t people in power to give a shit.

Wayne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well I do need a job, and I’m more than a dab hand in the kitchen. I could help out here and see you every day.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and started to well up. “Oh god, that would be amazing! I just don’t know the linguistics of even getting the ball rolling on that.”

“Well, let’s go talk to your boy, and see what he says,” Wayne said, wiping his mouth on a napkin and standing up.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie protested hotly. “He’s not my anything except landlord!”

He paused and then held up one finger. “Maybe friends, but definitely not anything more than that!”

Wayne laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, but I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“God, I hope no else has noticed,” Eddie grumbled.

They walked out to the reception area where Joyce was standing there with a little girl who didn’t look more than eight or nine, but that could just have been how emaciated she was. It was clear that they had tried to scrub the dirt off of her but she was still filthy. Her head had been freshly shaved and wore an over-sized t-shirt that read ‘Benny’s Diner’. On her feet were unlaced combat boots that were too small for her feet.

“We don’t know what her name is or where she came from,” Joyce was explaining to Steve. “She doesn’t remember her name and what’s even more frightening is the number eleven tattoo on the inside of her wrist. We can’t even make an accurate guess on her age because of her severe malnutrition.”

Steve knelt in front of the little girl. “Is it all right if I call you Ellie?”

The girl looked at her wrist and then nodded. Steve rubbed the top of her head fondly. Chrissy came out of the supply closet with a bright red bag with an elephant shooting a rainbow from its truck on the front.

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Is that for me?”

“Sure is, sweetie,” Chrissy murmured as she knelt down next to Steve. “I made my best guess for your sizes, but if anything doesn’t fit, just come knock on my door or Robin’s.” She pointed to Robin who had been at the reception desk this whole time and Eddie had just missed it.

Wayne and him shared a glance.

This is exactly what Eddie had looked like when he showed up at Wayne’s door, garbage bag in hand, tears in his eyes.

“Do you want to come with me to get a bath?” Robin asked Ellie, holding out her hand. “You can pick the shampoo and conditioner you want, bubble bath too!”

“What’s a bubble bath?” Ellie asked as she took Robin’s hand, allowing herself to be lead away.

“What’s a bubble bath?” Robin parroted back. “Why only the best thing to happen to baths since the Romans!”

Ellie giggled. “What’s a Roman?”

Everyone sputtered and gasped at that nugget of information. Just how long had she been out of the school system if she didn’t know who the Romans were?

“That’s gonna be a fun one,” Steve said with a grimace straightening up. “I’ll make sure she starts on simple foods with very little spices or seasoning to make sure we don’t upset her stomach.”

Joyce nodded. “It’s going to be a long road to be sure. I think what bothers me the most is how trusting she is. Judging from the state of literally anything else about her, I would have expected her to be more leery of everyone.”

“You’ll also wanna make sure you jot down everything she eats in case she’s allergic to something,” Wayne said.

Steve smacked his head. “Oh gosh! Yes! Absolutely! Especially since allergies can crop up at anytime. Thanks!”

Joyce blinked at him for a moment. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wayne said rushing forward to put out his hand for her shake. “I’m Wayne Munson, Eddie’s uncle. I know a little bit about that sort of thing, when I had to take him in.”

“Oh!” she said, taking his hand and shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Joyce Byers, I’m the primary case worker for the kids here.”

“Now there’s a thankless job if ever there was one,” he remarked.

Joyce melted. “Well, I appreciate you saying that.” She turned to Steve. “Just call me if you need anything.”

Steve nodded.

Then he turned back to Eddie and Wayne. “You enjoying being back in Hawkins, Wayne? However briefly?”

Wayne looked at Eddie and then back at Steve. “Well, that’s actually the thing. I’m moving back to Hawkins to be closer to Ed. I’m getting too old to run a farm by myself and the only people who show up are so-called ‘cowboys’ who wear the uniform but have never met a cow in their life.”

Chrissy snorted. “I’ve met those people, yeah. I’m sorry you’re giving all that up. What’s going to happen to your farm?”

Wayne explained the plans he had just gotten through talking to Eddie about. “So, I’ll have a little money to keep me comfortable while I find a stable job and a place to stay.”

“That must be so nice,” Joyce said wistfully. “I’m just sorry that comfort comes at such a high cost.”

Wayne waved away her concerns. “Appreciate it, ma’am. But to be honest my mom was pretty sure the farm was going to be sold in my life time anyway. That’s why he gave it to me so that it would be given to the one brother how gave damn about legacy and not sell to the highest bidder.”

Joyce smiled and then turned to Steve. “I’ll be back in a couple of days to check on the girl.” She bid everyone goodbye and then left.

Chrissy just shook her head. “I really don’t know how she does it, but I’m grateful for her every day.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Steve said, picking up Robin’s coffee mug and taking a sip.

She wrinkled her nose. “I still don’t understand how you two can drink that stuff. It’s basically coffee flavored creamer at this point.”

Steve just grinned at her. Then he turned back to Wayne. “Benny, Eddie’s boss has a spare room if you want, until you can find some place of your own.”

“I’d be mighty grateful,” Wayne agreed. “I could stay in a hotel, but I won’t have much money until the sale goes through.”

Steve nodded. “Yep. I feel that. I’ll grab you his number and get it to you before you leave.”

Wayne chuckled. “‘bout that... I hear you’re looking for a cook to help around here.”

Steve and Chrissy shared a look of amazement.

“I’m sorry, come again?” Chrissy asked, cocking her head to the side.

“You need the help,” Eddie said with a grin, “and he needs a job. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “Uhh... yeah. Okay. Chrissy can you get him the paper work so he could fill it out.” He turned to Wayne. “I can’t make promises that you’ll get the job as it’s little more complicated as it does get government funding. But I’d be more than happy to have another hand around here. Especially with us just getting Ellie. This is the start of what we call around here, the sad season. When teachers and doctors who are mandatory reporters start seeing kids on a regular basis...”

“And reporting the abused and neglected kids?” Eddie finished with a grimace. “I didn’t even realize. But yeah, October-November was when I was put in Wayne’s care.”

“That’s also when we get the most people on wait lists for rehab,” Chrissy said as she walked around to the reception desk and opened a drawer.

“What’s the max you’ve had here at a time?” Wayne asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Four adults and seven kids,” Steve said mirroring his pose. “But that’s us at half capacity. Mainly because there is only three of us doing everything.”

Wayne cocked his head to side. “What would be the dream staff situation?”

Steve starting counting off on his fingers. “A full time cook, a cleaner, two to three more people in charge of the guests. And barring that, at least one person to help me on the adult side. It can get pretty scary when it’s just me and four dudes that if they banded together would absolutely kick my ass and there would be no one felt to be able to stop them from harming Chris or Robin or any kids we had here at the time.”

Chrissy shook her head. “I’d tack on a trained on site psychologist and physician, too. Because there are times we just aren’t trained to handle the night terrors and other medical issues that crop up for the types of people who need emergency housing.”

“That makes sense,” Eddie said with a sigh. “But this place isn’t big enough to house all that.”

Chrissy and Steve shared a glance and Steve echoed his sigh. “That would be the thing. We would convert a third of the rooms for staff, limit the amount of adults to five and the amount of kids to eight, then we’d be fully staffed for everything that could come at us.”

“So why haven’t ya?” Wayne asked. “I know about the Harrington Trust so why not use it to remodel this place and get the staff you need?”

Steve leaned heavily on the counter. “Because I feel like I’m abusing my mom’s money.”

Eddie and Wayne’s jaws dropped to the floor.

“Holy shit...” Eddie whispered as he finally pieced together all the things that everyone had said about this place the handful of months he had been here. “You never directly said that the Harrington Trust was setup by your mom. I mean I should have made the connection. But, dude you have to spend that money. That’s what she wants it used for... unless...”

Steve frowned for a moment before he got Eddie’s implication. “No, she’s still around.”

“So talk to her,” he urged. “Find out what she wanted the money spent on and then talk about you want the money spent on and see if you can’t find a middle ground.”

Steve straightened up a little. “Yeah. Okay.”

Chrissy cheered and even Eddie and Wayne celebrated.

It was time to turn the Hawkins Hope House into the Harrington Hope House. Because it was needed.

Needed to help everyone it can. Not just the people the system threw at them.

~

Tag List: SIX TAG SLOTS REMAINING

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8- @blisschaoss @carlyv @ellietheasexylibrarian @disrespectedgoatman @warlordess

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he opened his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would never be you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not bored,” you retorted simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to get high.”

That made you pause. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna bet?”

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

“Steve…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the rumors were true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But was I right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my first orgasm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve was haunting you.

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

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

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

The problem was that it never stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

You were stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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