lulu

You looked in the mirror as you swiped the lip gloss applicator across your bottom lip, the shiny product tinting it just slightly, before rubbing it against your top lip to get a thin, even coat. After closing the tube, you move to fix a few pieces of your hair, making sure your bangs sit just right, then do a quick spray of hairspray to keep them from moving out of place too much.

Steve had just gotten to your house a minute ago, stopping by to pick up Dustin. He and Dustin had plans for the day with the rest of the party, taking them to the mall so he could basically be their wallet. He was going to call for him, announce his presence, and to hurry up so they could go, but when he saw you looking unreally pretty, he wanted to enjoy it for a minute longer.

He wasn't even sure if you knew he was there, coming by so often that you and Dustin told him to just start letting himself in. You had given him a key to the front door too, just in case it was locked.

You and Steve are friends, close friends for sure after he and Dustin became almost inseparable, but there were times when (Steve hoped he wasn’t imagining it) there was a certain tension between the two of you, like you both were waiting for the other to make a move. Steve wanted to, so so badly, but every time he got close to doing anything or saying anything, he could feel something in him closing up, backing away from the moment.

He still felt like the douche everyone said he was from high school, and his breakup with Nancy definitely still had a mark on his confidence after she called everything they had ‘bullshit’.

To put it simply, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

Dustin finally came out from down the hall, seeing that Steve was already there. Before Steve saw him, Dustin definitely noticed the hearts in his eyes as he stared somewhere across the room, following his gaze that led to you. It was already pretty obvious that Steve had a thing for you, but this was just the cherry on top of it all, confirming Dustin's hunch about it.

Dustin knew this was bound to happen, and if he was honest, he wasn't against it at all, actually. If anything, he had been rooting for you guys silently from the sidelines.

He looked up to Steve a lot, going to him when he needed any advice, man-to-man. He’s a good guy with good intentions, and if Dustin was going to trust anyone with his sister, it would be Steve. Plus, there were a few times Dustin caught you staring at him when you thought no one was looking, blushing when Steve would look back in your direction and look the opposite way.

He never asked you up front about it, but you were definitely different around Steve, different in a ‘she has a huge crush on him’ kind of way. Even when Dustin would bring him up when he wasn't around, you got a lot more interested and smiley in the conversation.

It was all too obvious, but of course, except to the two of you, too worried about your own feelings to realize the other’s.

“When did you get here?” Dustin asked, a smug look on his face after what he saw, his voice breaking Steve’s attention away from you.

Steve collected his thoughts after watching you in almost a daze, clearing his throat. You were now aware of Steve's presence, also, looking over from your reflection to see him standing by the kitchen counter.

You got a little too excited about seeing Steve, your glossed lips stretching into a wide smile, especially for someone who had a date with someone else later. “Oh, hey Steve, I didn't hear you come in.” You turned to face him fully, seeing Dustin just about ready to leave the house. “You guys got plans?”

Steve was so easy when it came to you, a stupid grin on his face from the smile you gave him. If his hair were long enough, he’d be twirling it around his finger like a high school girl with a crush. “Yeah, I just got here a minute ago. Takin’ the little shitheads out today.”

He saw Dustin roll his eyes jokingly from the corner of his eye at the name he called the party, shoving his cap over his curly hair and walking to the front door. “C’mon, man, everyone's waiting at Mike’s,” as if he wasn’t the one who kept them waiting.

Steve shot Dustin a glare, “Yeah, ‘cause you were taking forever.”

He looked over at you again, a soft smile on his face, “See you later...? If you're home when we come back,” he said hopefully, a little jealous of whoever you were going to hang out with all pretty like that.

You nodded, mirroring his expression. There was that unnameable tension again, that feeling that there was something being left unsaid or done. Before you both could think about it too much, Dustin cleared his throat, nudging Steve, “Dude, let’s go.”

Dustin saw what was going on crystal clear now, swinging the front door open to hurry and get Steve outside of it, pulling him out by the arm, “Bye Y/n! Tell Mom I went out!” Dustin calls to you before grabbing the knob and shutting the door.

“Geez, man. I didn't even get to say bye,” Steve muttered as he unlocked his BMW, he and Dustin hopping into the driver and passenger seats as always.

Dustin already had his hands on the radio, flipping through the channels to find one playing anything decent, before sitting back into his seat and looking over at Steve.

“So, how long have you liked my sister?”

What.

Steve coughed, not expecting the sudden question from Dustin as soon as they sat in the car. “Uh- uhm.., what?!” He stammered as he turned the key in the ignition, feeling nervous at the mention of you in a romantic sense from none other than your brother.

“Y/n. How long have you liked her?” Dustin asked again, saying it like it was the most casual thing in the world. What Steve wanted with you was anything but casual.

Maybe it was a normal thing to share who you like with your guy friends, but this was different. You're Dustin's sister, and Dustin's also a bit younger than Steve, so it felt weird...

Steve looked over at him for a second, trying to show a confused expression, but it looked more like the expression of someone who was just caught.

“I..- I don’t like y/n-?” He tried to play it off and deny it, hoping Dustin would just move on to a new topic, which of course he wouldn’t.

Dustin laughed incredulously, surprised Steve even tried to lie about it when it was so clear to anyone who had eyes. “Please, with the way you were just staring at her like she was an angel on earth says wayyy otherwise,” Dustin grinned mockingly, just waiting for Steve to admit the obvious.

Steve didn't realize Dustin saw him eyeing you earlier, watching in awe as you made final touches to your hair and makeup before going out as he waited for Dustin.

“Relax, I won't kill you. I've been waiting for this, actually,” he continued, trying to push Steve into admitting it.

Steve put his attention back to backing out of the driveway of the Henderson house, eyebrows furrowed at Dustin’s words as he slid the gearshift. “What? Henderson- what are you on about?” He ran a hand through the hair that curled in front of his forehead while the other held the steering wheel, looking over at Dustin for a second like he was crazy.

“I've always thought you and Y/n would be perfect for each other, yknow? You’re both single, I’m like ninety-five percent sure Y/n thinks you’re hot, and you also think Y/ns hot, and you’re a decent enough guy that I could trust with my sister,” Dustin explained. He may have held out a little when he said Steve was ‘decent’, but he would never tell him to his face how much he actually looked up to him.

Steve kept his face toward the road, giving Dustin a quick side eye, “Only ninety-five percent sure..?”

“Okay, maybe like ninety-nine percent sure, I just haven't fully asked her to confirm it, but back to the point. What I’m saying is I wouldn't be mad if you made a move,” he glanced at Steve, his eyebrows up, before shaking his head. “Actually, no, hurry up and make a move, man. It’s so obvious to everyone that you guys like each other. Just makeout with her already.”

Steve gave Dustin another side eye. As if it were so easy to just go up to someone and shove your tongue down their throat. But he knew he couldn't even try to deny it anymore, knowing Dustin saw right through him. He would've made a move months ago, believe him, but there was always that.. that feeling of self-pity, a little bit. Every time he got too close to you its like he could hear Nancy’s voice from that night.

“No, you. you’re bullshit.”

It rang in his ears any time he even considered getting closer to you. He was over Nancy, yeah, he had been for a while, but there was still a wound she left that reopened so easily sometimes.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, keeping his eyes to the road as he shrugged his shoulders, “I just..-“ he cut himself off, for a second before speaking again, it felt really embarrassing to tell Dustin what it was that held him back from you, “..What if I’m just not.. up to her standards..?” Steve’s voice got a little quieter towards the end of his words, feeling cringeworthy for actually saying these thoughts out loud, and to Dustin.

He scoffed, not even believing his lame excuse, “Right, okay,”

“No, I’m serious, man… I don’t think I could be good enough for her...”

“Geez, Nancy really did a number on you, huh?” Dustin glanced at Steve, a confused look on his face. How could the Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington think he wasn’t good enough? “You’re just being crazy, dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No, I don’t think I am,” he said, so sure of himself.

Dustin sat back in the passenger seat, sighing at the way Steve could be so stubborn sometimes, “Fine, but if you want a chance, you better make a move now. I’m pretty sure shes going on a date with Billy Hargroove tonight."

It took everything in Steve to not slam on the brakes in the middle of the road. Billy Hargroove? Billy Hargroove!?

He could already feel the jealousy burning in him, filling his stomach and making him feel sick at just the thought of Billy having his hands on you.

There's no way you could ever stoop so low. Billy’s such a dick, Steve couldn’t believe you even looked his way. A minute ago, he wasn’t feeling too hot about trying to make a move on you, but he knew he sure as hell would treat you better than Billy ever could.

“There's no way, man.” He didn’t want to believe it, especially when he thought about how pretty you looked as you got ready, just for it all to be for Billy...

“Yup, and not gonna lie, she didn’t sound too excited about it when she was telling me,” Dustin shrugged.

Steve gripped the steering wheel tightly, the jealousy only getting worse the more he thought about it. Yet he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

He couldn’t sit comfortably in his seat anymore. Something in him was urging him to stop the car and drive back to your house. It felt as if that was the only right reaction he could have.

Just as they arrived at Mike's, Dustin swung the car door open and hopped out. Steve stayed in the driver's seat, tossing Dustin a twenty-dollar bill. “I'll take you guys another day, something came up.”

Before Dustin could even protest about needing a ride to the mall, Steve was backing out of the Wheelers' driveway, driving back in the direction they came, straight to your house.

The rest of the party came outside upon hearing Dustin finally get there. Steve was already far down the road, leaving them confused. Not Dustin, though, he knew exactly why Steve needed to go back.

“Where’s Steve going? What about our ride?” Lucas looked to Dustin, a puzzled look on his face.

Dustin nodded in approvement on Steve’s actions, he also wanted you nowhere near Billy Hargroove. “Probably to go makeout with my sister.” He said it so simply.

Everyone else groaned and ‘eww’ed' as they turned to walk back inside, needing to think of something else to do now that there was no one driving them to the mall.

Meanwhile, with Steve, it felt as if this was a matter of life and death. It almost was. He didn’t realize how much not having you would hurt until he couldn’t get you and Billy together out of his mind. He tried for so long to ignore the feelings that were so obviously there for you, thinking he could never be up to your standards. In this moment, all that filled his head was you and how much he needed you.

He had to at least try to be enough for you.

In less than 5 minutes, he was back in your driveway, right as you were walking out of the house, car keys and purse in your hands. He let out a slightly relieved sigh, glad that he caught you in time, but now was the hard part.

You stopped when you saw Steve, confused as to why he was here and not with your brother, “Steve?”

He got out of the car as fast as he could, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. You gasped a bit when you saw him almost fall, going over to help him and make sure he didn't trip.

“Geez, Steve, what's wrong?” You asked a little worried, seeing the franticness in his movements as you steadied him by putting your hands on his shoulders.

As soon as Steve was standing straight, he couldn’t wait any longer to tell you what's been eating at him for god knows how long. Or at least stop you from seeing Billy.

"Please don't go on that date.”

You went stiff at his words, looking up a bit at him from the height difference between you both. You just now noticed how close you guys were, breath catching in your throat as your arms fell back to your side.

“Don't go on a date with Billy, please.” He sounded breathless as he spoke. He felt like a dog begging, but if that's what it took to persuade you to not go, then that's what he would do.

“Steve-”

He cut you off before you could get another word out to try and explain himself, “Please, Y/n. Let me at least have a chance. I can treat you better than him, I know I can. Let me try, please,” He was definitely begging at this point, the last sentence almost sounding like a whine.

There was a short silence after Steve's words, already having him second-guessing even coming back here. That was until you broke it.

“I... I was only going on a date with Billy to try and get my mind off of you...” Your voice was quiet, your eyes flickering back and away from Steve's gaze, feeling shy under it all of a sudden, “I didn't think you felt the same way I did…”

You cringed at your words slightly, feeling stupid saying it out loud.

Steve scoffed playfully, relaxing a little when you made it clear that all of the tension you guys felt between one another wasn’t imagined. “Is it not painfully obvious how into you I am?” A sweet smile made its way onto his face, feeling relieved that what he was feeling for you was reciprocated.

“Not to me, no. Until now, I guess,” you shrugged jokingly, not being able to hold back the grin that was pulling on the corner of your lips.

Slowly, Steve’s hands found your waist, testing the waters before pulling you just slightly closer. Yours and Steve’s skin had made contact plenty of times before, of course, whether it was a hug, a hand on the other's back, or just a brush against each other in passing. Nothing ever like this, though. His simple hold on you already felt so much more intimate than you guys would ever allow yourselves to get with the other. It had you feeling warm and the butterflies alive in your stomach.

His eyes flickered over your face, feeling shy at how close he was to the prettiest girl he knew. He couldn't help it when his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for an extra few seconds, then meeting your eyes. He wanted so badly to close the distance between the two of you, having spent so many nights wondering what it must feel like to actually kiss you (on the nights when the scenarios in his head about you were more pure).

You caught the way he stared at your lips, hoping you weren't imagining it. You caught yourself doing what he did just now, gaze dropping down from his eyes to his pink lips.

Steve didn’t want to wait any longer, licking his lips before speaking. “Can I..? Can I kiss you?” The words came out quiet and shy, something Steve was only around you.

Oh, Steve. Such a gentleman.

Your cheeks tinted pink upon hearing him ask out loud for a kiss, your gaze catching his when he looked up from your lips.

You looked at him through your mascara-covered lashes, nodding at his question. You knew you couldn't trust your voice when Steve is this close to you, asking to kiss you. You were already leaning into him without realizing it, like it was on instinct.

With your confirmation, Steve didnt want to waste a second, mirroring the way you were leaning in. The seconds before his lips touched yours felt like hours, your lips parting as you anticipated the feel of his mouth against yours. His lips ghosted over your parted ones, just barely, almost featherlight, before his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned in fully, closing any distance between you two.

The kiss was clumsy at first, both of you hesitating for a second from this new territory with each other. Then it melted into something soft and sweet, your hands finding his cheeks to hold in the process. It wasn't exactly how you'd imagined it. It wasn't this firework-feeling kiss they show in movies, but it was so unbelievably Steve and you loved it.

Steve's hands on your waist pulled you closer against him, your chest now flush against his. Your hands slid from his face to his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss, having to make up for all the lost time.

It was all so perfect.

That was until you both heard a few pairs of feet running in your direction. Steve broke the kiss, his cheeks tinted with a soft pink and breathing a little heavier than usual as he looked up to see who interrupted his moment with you.

It was Dustin, of course, with all his friends behind him, all with their jaws dropped in a disgustingly shocked expression at catching you and Steve doing something that you definitely don't do with your friends. All of them except for Dustin, who saw this coming months ago.

You gave your brother an annoyed look, one that said you’d be getting him back for this later.

"Seriously, guys?” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes.

Dustin only grinned, looking back at his friends and then back to you and Steve.

“See? I told you he went to makeout with my sister.”

finally posted my first fic on here!! i worked rlly hard on this so i hope you guys like it!! my requests are open so if youre interested dont hesitate to leave one!

You had been charting for what felt like hours, though it had merely been twenty minutes that consisted of you re-reading the same ten words over and over. You could hear distant footsteps and voices from every direction, with the occasional beep of a machine finding a way to occupy the limited space in your mind.

A gentle hand being placed on your shoulder snapped your attention back to the environment around you, as you looked over your shoulder to find a familiar smile looking down on you.

His salt and pepper curls frizzed out in every direction and fluffed up around his face to exhibit the constant running of his fingers through his hair.

His body seemed to move slower than normal in exhaustion as he crouched down to meet your eyes from where you were sitting behind the nurses station.

"Hey, hon. Just wrapping up, wanna head out soon?" Jack asked with heavy, tired eyes. You could only imagine how similar yours looked.

You nodded at him as you spoke, "Yeah 'course. Just finishing a couple charts." His rough, warm hand began to rub up and down your arm as he gave you a gentle smile that barely met his eyes.

He muttered an okay, before giving your arm a light squeeze and standing to go back to whatever he needed to do.

Jack knew that you were exhausted. Knew that you were beyond exhausted.

You couldn't sleep the whole day before your shift. Of course, Jack laid next to you the whole time, trying to tire you out and comfort you in any way he could. But from rubbing your back with his calloused hands to going on a walk with you in the middle of his interrupted sleep, nothing seemed to work.

You sighed and rested your cheek against your palm, holding yourself up in any way you could to finish your work.

It always made you feel guilty to know that you kept Jack up with your lack of sleep, but he always insisted that there was nothing he'd rather do than be with you and take care of you.

Which is exactly what he did after you had finally clocked out for the night.

He followed you into the changing rooms as you slowly lifted your charcoal scrubs over your head, leaving you in nothing but a bra and pants with frizzy hair from the lengthy shift.

As he took off his own shirt, his eyes wandered over to where you stood, checking on you and admiring you all in one glance.

Jack always thought you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist, even when you claimed you were anything but.

He simply adored you and everything you did.

Before your clean shirt found its way over your head, Jack grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into him. You let out a gentle grunt at the unexpected contact, but melted into his bare chest nonetheless. He wrapped his arms tightly around you as yours found their way around his waist.

"You're so beautiful." He muttered into your hair, gently rocking you side to side.

You scoffed, "Oh please, I look like shit." You stated, referring to your current state of fatigue and overexertion.

"You could never look like shit", he sighed with a light press of his lips to your head, "You're perfect. My sweet girl."

You hummed at his words, tilting your head up and resting your chin onto his chest, finding his eyes with your own.

"I love you, baby." You pouted, making him chuckle and move his hand to rest on the side of your cheek.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He said, leaning in to press a firm kiss against your lips. You both sighed into the kiss, cherishing the first peaceful moment you two had all night. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

You nodded and pulled away to finish changing into your clothes, taking his hand as you walked out of the changing room with all of your belongings.

As you got to his truck in the parking lot, Jack opened the door for you and held your hand as you climbed inside.

From finding small ways to take care of you (even when it’s something you could easily do yourself), to showing you off as if you were the most precious thing on Earth, Jack made sure you knew you were loved in any and every way he could.

As Jack began to back up out of the parking spot, your eyes found his demeanor and noticed how he looked just as tired as you, if not worse.

His eyes drooped with sleep and his shoulders hung low, yet here he was, taking care of you as if he wasn't just as near collapse.

You frowned and wrapped your arm around his bicep, letting your head fall down to rest on his shoulder.

He glanced down at the contact before pressing a kiss on the top of your head, turning his eyes back to the road.

For the rest of the drive home, you stayed wrapped around his arm and resting on his shoulder, softly humming to the music being played on the radio.

Every few minutes Jack would glance down as you, taking it in and smiling, even though you couldn't see him.

As he pulled into the driveway you sat up, stretching your arms over your head and exhaling. He stepped out of the car and walked over to the passenger side, opening your door and helping you out, like he always did.

The sun had already begun to rise but the brisk morning air still nipped at your cheeks as you both made your way into the house.

His warm hand stayed laced with your own, solid and gentle all at once.

You kicked off your shoes and immediately flopped onto the couch, letting out a loud sigh.

"Quite the shift, huh?" He joked, sitting next to you and placing a hand on your thigh.

"Yeah something like that." You mutter, letting your head fall back and your eyes close.

"How 'bout we get ready for bed then, hm?" Jack took your hand, pulling you up to stand after a few moments of protest.

He walked you into your room, before sitting you on the bed and turning to the en suite bathroom to turn on the shower.

As he walked back in, you couldn't fight the smile on your lips.

"What?" He chuckled, leaning down to remove his prosthetic, while you grabbed his crutch next to the bed.

"I got so lucky with you." You said, walking over and swapping him, prosthetic for crutch.

"Oh, sure." He rolled his eyes.

"No seriously, Jack." You said firmly, taking his free hand in yours, stopping him from turning back to the bathroom, "You are so good to me."

He shook his head and let go of your hand to place his palm against your cheek, "I'm just giving you what you deserve."

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead before walking with you to the shower, removing his clothes and taking a seat on his shower chair that he always insisted was 'unnecessary' (but he used it everyday anyway).

Stepping into the shower, you let the steam envelop your skin in a warmth that merely mimicked the heat you felt in your chest from being around Jack.

As the hot water rose around you and created a dense fog, your sight immediately drifted back to the man sitting in front of you.

Jack smiled at you and patted his thigh, urging you to sit on his lap.

Obliging, you let your knees fall atop his thighs and around the chair, before tilting your head to press a solid kiss against his lips.

He groaned and moved his hand to the back of your head, pulling you in farther while tangling his fingers into your hair.

When you pulled apart to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I'm so proud of you." He said, opening his eyes to look into yours. The speckles in his brown eyes captured yours with a million unspoken words of admiration and devotion while his hands held your body and face like you could slip away at any given moment and he was refusing to let you do so.

You frowned before leaning back into him as the water ran down your back and continued to fog up the space around you.

And he kissed you like the world was ending.

His lips pressed to yours with every ounce of passion you could ever comprehend.

His hand on your back slid lower, pulling you tighter into him while he slightly opened his mouth against yours. Your tongues found their way to one another, pressing into each other and exchanging all the words you didn't need to say aloud.

Once you finally pulled away, he didn't move a muscle. He just held you there.

His head rested on your shoulder as he left warm, wet kisses all across your neck and shoulder. Though his hands stayed where they were before, cradling your head and back.

"Hey, Jack?" You spoke into his hair.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Another kiss to your neck.

"Promise me this will never change?"

He paused, looking up at you.

"Baby you are all that I am," his hand moved to rest upon your cheek, "I don't know where, or how, but I know that this will always be."

And so he held you through another night,

promising you,

showing you,

letting his grace remind you how to find your own,

He held doors open for you even when you were twenty feet away and then just stood there waiting like an idiot. He memorized your schedule 'by accident' and somehow always ended up near your locker. He started hanging around Mr. Clarke’s classroom after school even though science made his brain hurt, just because you were there.

He’d stare during lunch, chin in his hand, smiling like a complete loser while you rambled about scholarships and college applications and how you couldn’t wait to see the world outside Hawkins.

Tommy caught him once and snapped his fingers in his face. “You’re doing the heart-eyes thing again.”

“The what?”

“The pathetic, princess-in-love look. It’s disgusting. I need you to get it together.”

He didn’t get it together.

If anything, he got worse.

The whole school knew. The way he lit up when you waved at him like you waved at everyone else. The way he’d drop whatever he was doing if you so much as looked like you needed help.

Everyone knew.

Except you.

You, apparently, were immune to the obvious because in your head, Steve Harrington was just. . . Steve Harrington. Popular. Nice, lately. Weirdly friendly. Probably like that with everyone.

You never noticed how his entire world tilted toward you.

You had bigger things to think about.

Like getting out of Hawkins.

Mr. Clarke had stopped you after class a week ago, papers tucked under his arm, glasses sliding down his nose. He’d cleared his throat in that hopeful way teachers did when they were about to ask for a favor.

“I’m starting a peer tutoring program,” he’d said. “Colleges love community involvement. It would look very good on scholarship applications.”

You’d said yes before he even finished the sentence.

Anything that helped you leave.

You didn’t hate Hawkins. It just never felt like it belonged to you. It felt small, like a sweater that shrank in the wash. Your dreams didn’t fit here. You wanted big libraries and campus buildings covered in ivy and lecture halls and cities where no one knew your last name.

Your family supported you completely. Your mom already saved college brochures in a neat stack on the kitchen counter. Your dad bragged about you to the neighbors like you’d already made it.

Leaving didn’t feel sad.

It felt necessary.

So you signed up to tutor, figuring maybe a freshman or two would show up for help with algebra or biology. Maybe no one at all. You wouldn’t have blamed them.

Which is why, when you walked into the library after school and followed the little handwritten sign that said PEER TUTORING →, you weren’t prepared to see Steve Harrington sitting at one of the tables.

Waiting.

For you.

For a second, you genuinely thought you’d walked into the wrong place.

Steve didn’t belong here. The late sunlight through the windows caught in his hair, turning it gold, and he looked so out of place it almost made you laugh.

Then he saw you.

And his whole face changed like someone had flipped a switch inside him. He sat up straighter so fast he almost knocked his chair over.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless, like he’d run here. “Hi. You’re— uh. You’re the tutor, right?”

“. . . Yeah,” you said slowly, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Are you lost?”

His heart actually stuttered.

Lost. God. If only you knew.

“I mean,” you added quickly, “this is the tutoring area. If you’re looking for the magazines or—”

“No,” he said too fast. “No, I’m supposed to be here. I signed up. For tutoring. With you. I mean— not with you specifically. I mean— I guess it is specifically. But like, academically. For school. Obviously.”

You blinked at him.

Steve Harrington. The guy who once asked if The Great Gatsby was a real person.

You stared at the neat pile of books in front of him.

“. . . You need tutoring?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Turns out if you don’t pay attention for, like, three years straight, stuff catches up with you.”

You laughed softly and that sound hit him straight in the chest.

God. He’d do anything to hear that again.

“Oh,” you said, pulling out the chair across from him. “Yeah, that makes sense. Don’t worry, I’m pretty good at explaining things. What do you need help with?”

Everything, he almost said.

But not the homework.

He needed help with how you were sitting across from him, sleeves pushed up, pen tucked behind your ear, already focuse like this was the most important thing in the world. He needed help with how you bit your lip when you concentrated. How you leaned closer to his side of the table without even realizing it.

Instead, he slid the biology book toward you with slightly shaky hands.

“Cells,” he said. “They’re. . . confusing.”

You smiled at him like this was totally normal. Like he was just another student.

And Steve swore he’d never wanted to be anything more and anything less at the same time.

“Okay,” you said. “We’ll start easy.”

Easy. Right.

Except nothing about this was easy for him.

Because every time your fingers brushed his while passing a pencil, his brain short-circuited. Every time you leaned over to point something out, your shoulder bumping his, he forgot what planet he was on. He nodded along to explanations he barely heard because he was too busy staring at your mouth forming the words.

You thought he was struggling with science.

He was struggling with you.

“You’re actually catching on pretty fast,” you said after a while, surprised. “You’re not as bad at this as you think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re trying. That’s, like, ninety percent of it.”

Trying.

If you only knew.

He’d rearranged his entire schedule to be here. Asked Tommy to quiz him the night before so he wouldn’t look completely clueless. He’d even read the first two chapters so you wouldn’t think he was hopeless.

All because you were here.

Because the idea of you leaving Hawkins one day, chasing some big, shiny future, while he stayed behind. . . it twisted something ugly in his chest.

He wanted you to fly.

He just selfishly wished he could go with you.

“You know,” you said absently, scribbling notes for him, “I didn’t think anyone would actually sign up for this.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said with a little laugh. “But I’m glad you did. It’s nice helping someone.”

He swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

You kept talking and Steve just. . . stared.

Not in a creepy way. Not on purpose.

He just couldn’t help it.

You had this little crease between your brows when you concentrated. You explained things with your hands, fingers tapping the table, drawing invisible diagrams in the air, and every time you leaned closer to underline something in his book, your shoulder brushed his and his brain turned to static.

He tried, really tried, to look at the page.

Cell membrane. Cytoplasm. Nucleus.

None of it stuck. All he could think about was how close you were.

“Okay,” you said, tapping the paper, “so think of the cell like a tiny city. The nucleus is like the mayor’s office. It controls everything. Does that make sense?”

Steve blinked.

You were looking at him so earnestly, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah, that actually. . . helps. A lot.”

Your face lit up, proud and pleased. “See? I told you. You’re not bad at this.”

God.

He thought, distantly, that this had to be some kind of cosmic joke. Hawkins High’s former golden boy reduced to putty because you told him he understood a metaphor.

Pathetic.

He’d fought monsters. Literally. And this, this tiny smile from you, was what took him out.

You kept teaching, and he kept pretending to follow along, nodding at the right times, scribbling down notes you handed him. But half the time he was just memorizing you instead. The soft little “okay” you said when he got something right.

By the time the session ended, his chest hurt. Not in a bad way. Just. . . full. Like he’d swallowed too much feeling and didn’t know where to put it.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, packing your bag.

He tried not to sound too eager. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”

Great. Like this wasn’t going to be the highlight of his entire day.

The week after that, something was different. You didn’t notice it at first because you were busy, always busy but Steve Harrington started showing up in your life.

The first time, you were juggling way too many textbooks outside your locker, stack wobbling dangerously, and before you could even adjust your grip, a pair of familiar hands reached out and took half the weight.

“I got it,” Steve said.

“Oh— thanks,” you said, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. I’m strong. Carrying books is kind of my thing.”

You knew it was not but you laughed, and he swore he’d carry the entire library if it meant hearing that again.

Then you started noticing him at your debate competitions, leaning awkwardly against the back wall of the classroom, pretending he was just “walking by” even though debate club met on the opposite side of the school from literally everything he did. Every time you looked up mid-argument, there he was, watching you like you’d hung the moon, clapping a little too hard when you finished.

In class, he’d somehow snag the seat next to you before anyone else could, sliding into it with an almost shy, “This taken?” even though he knew you’d never say no. He’d save you a chair at lunch, push it out with his foot like it was nothing, cheeks pink when you thanked him like he’d done something special.

And the tutoring sessions. God, the tutoring sessions.

He started getting good. Like, actually good.

He showed up having already read the chapters. He remembered things you’d explained days ago. Once, he even corrected himself mid-problem and you just stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Wait,” you said, leaning closer to check his work, “this is right. Steve, this is completely right.”

“Yeah?” he asked, trying to sound casual, failing miserably.

“Yeah. That’s really good. Good job, Steve.”

Good job, Steve. It was such a normal thing to say.

You said it the same way you’d say it to anyone else. But to him, it felt like you’d reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. He actually stopped breathing for a second.

Heat crawled up his neck, ears burning, stomach flipping stupidly like he was thirteen again.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” he muttered, staring very hard at the paper so you wouldn’t see the way his smile went soft and helpless.

You didn’t notice, just kept going, already onto the next question.

He thought, distantly, that if you ever said you were proud of him, he might actually die on the spot.

He thought about asking you out a hundred times.

Every single session.

When you leaned over him to point at a diagram. When your knees bumped under the table. When you smiled and told him he was improving. When you got excited explaining something and grabbed his sleeve without thinking.

The words sat on the tip of his tongue.

Do you maybe want to get coffee sometime?

Do you want to go to the movies?

Do you want to go out with me?

But then he’d look at you talking about scholarships and universities and all the places you were going to go, all the things you were going to be, and something scared inside him would whisper, She’s out of your league.

You were brilliant. The kind of person teachers wrote recommendation letters for without being asked.

He was. . . Steve.

Former jerk. Former king. Current disaster with questionable grades.

Even if no one else believed it, even if the whole school thought you were lucky to have him hovering around, Steve secretly thought the opposite.

He felt lucky you even talked to him.

So instead of asking you out, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He tried harder.

He memorized your favorite authors after overhearing you talk about them with Nancy, went home and borrowed the books from the library just so he’d have something to say. He stayed up reading half-asleep, underlining sentences he thought you’d like. The next day, he’d casually drop, “Oh, yeah, I started that book you mentioned,” like it was no big deal while internally panicking.

Your face would light up every time. “Wait, really? You’re reading that?”

“Yeah,” he’d shrug. “It’s pretty good.”

You smiled at him, completely oblivious, and launched into a ten-minute rant about the book and he listened like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

And Steve sat there every single day thinking the same hopeless, aching thought. If he was brave enough, maybe one day you’d finally see what everyone else already did.

How completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you he was.

The opportunity came wrapped in cheap tinsel and paper snowflakes taped crookedly to the hallway ceiling.

You were hunched over the library table with Steve again, pencil tapping against your lip while you explained balancing equations for what felt like the fifteenth time, when the intercom crackled to life with some overly cheerful announcement about the Snowball Dance.

You barely registered it beyond a vague mental note that the gym would be unusable for the next week because student council would inevitably turn it into a dance zone.

Steve, on the other hand, heard the words Snowball Dance and nearly swallowed his tongue.

He tried to act normal, nodding along while you talked, but his brain had completely abandoned chemistry and latched onto one thought like a dog with a bone.

Dance.

Dance meant dates.

Dates meant asking someone.

Which meant maybe, possibly, if the universe was feeling merciful, he could finally ask you. His palms started sweating so bad he had to wipe them on his jeans.

You didn’t notice. You were busy drawing little diagrams and saying, “See? You just move the coefficient here.”

When the session ended, you both started packing up, you sliding your color-coded notes into neat folders, him shoving books into his bag with way too much nervous energy, when a familiar voice drifted over.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite nerds.”

Nancy.

You looked up immediately, smiling. “Hey.”

Nancy leaned against the table, eyes flicking between the two of you in a way that felt suspiciously knowing. “I was actually looking for you,” she said to you. “What are you wearing to the dance?”

You blinked. “The dance?”

“The Snowball,” she said patiently. “This weekend. You are going, right?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think so. My mom found this amazing blue dress in the back of her closet. It’s kind of old, but it’s nice.” You shrugged, like it didn’t matter.

“And who are you going with?” Nancy pressed, way too casually.

You laughed. “No one? I mean, I’m not entirely sure anyone’s even going to ask me, so I’ll probably just show up and hover near the snack table or something. It’s fine. I mostly just want the extra credit for attendance.”

Steve felt like someone had just set off fireworks inside his ribcage.

Nancy’s gaze slid to him slowly and then she gave him the look.

It was long and pointed and screamed, If you don’t ask her out right now, I will personally strangle you, Harrington.

Steve panicked.

Nancy patted your arm. “Well, you’ll look pretty no matter what,” she said. “Jonathan’s dragging me, so at least we’ll all suffer together.”

You smiled. “Have fun.”

She shot Steve one last sharp stare before walking away.

The silence that followed felt deafening.

Steve’s heart was beating so hard he was convinced you could hear it. You were still organizing your bag, completely unaware that this was possibly the most stressful moment of his entire life.

Just ask her.

It’s not that hard.

It’s literally just words.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He closed it.

Tried again.

“So,” he started, voice cracking like a middle schooler’s. He cleared his throat. “So. Uh. The dance.”

“Yeah?” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“You said you didn’t have a date.”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s fine though. I’m not super big on dances anyway.”

Right. Cool. This was fine. He was dying.

“Well,” he rushed out, words tripping over each other, “maybe you. . . I mean— if you wanted we could, uh, like go together? If you want. Totally cool if you don’t. I just thought, you know, since we’re already tutoring and yeah.”

He wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

You just stared at him for a second. Then you smiled. Like he’d just offered you something nice and simple and not the entire fragile state of his heart.

“I’d like that,” you said. “Yeah. I’ll go with you, Steve.”

He stopped breathing.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I mean, you’re basically the only person I talk to after school anyway. Might as well.”

Might as well.

It shouldn’t have made him that happy.

But it did. It really, really did.

The days leading up to the dance were unbearable for everyone around him.

Because Steve would not shut up.

He talked about it constantly. At his locker. In the hallway. During lunch. To Tommy H. and Carol. To random freshmen. To literally anyone who made eye contact for longer than two seconds.

“Do you think blue is, like, a flower color? Should I get her a flower? Is that too much? Do girls still like flowers? What if she hates flowers? Oh my god, what if she hates dancing—”

“You’ve been on actual dates before,” Carol groaned. “Why are you acting like this is your first crush ever?”

“Because it kind of is,” Tommy muttered, annoyed. “He’s gone full loser. It’s painful to watch.”

Steve didn’t even argue. He just grinned like an idiot and kept talking about you.

They were sick of it but he couldn’t help it. He felt like his life was about to start.

When the night finally came, everything felt. . . good.

And then you walked in and you looked like the only thing in the room that mattered.

Steve forgot every single word he’d ever learned.

You smiled when you saw him, waving a little.

“Hey.”

The night blurred after that. He held your hand during slow songs. You talked in the corner about everything and nothing, about college applications and your favorite books and stupid childhood stories. He told you things he didn’t tell anyone, about feeling lost sometimes, about not knowing what came after high school, about being scared of messing up.

You listened and for the first time, Steve felt seen.

You laughed together, danced badly together, shared terrible punch and even worse cookies. At one point your head tipped back when you laughed and he thought, distantly, If this is all I ever get, it’s enough.

Walking you home felt like the end of a movie. His heart was so full it almost hurt.

At your doorstep, you turned to him, smiling, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Then you leaned up and kissed his cheek.

His brain shut off completely. He thought he might actually pass out.

And then you smiled at him. “Thank you for being such a great friend, Steve.”

Friend.

It hit harder than anything else. Harder than a punch. Harder than rejection.

Friend.

His heart didn’t just drop. It shattered.

He stood there, frozen, mouth open, watching you disappear inside.

The door clicked shut.

He didn’t move. Just stood on your porch for ten whole minutes, staring at the wood grain, replaying everything in his head and feeling stupider with every second. Of course. Of course you only saw him as a friend. Why wouldn’t you? You were you. He was just some guy who needed tutoring and followed you around like a lost puppy. What made him think you’d ever look at him the way he looked at you?

He laughed once, bitter and quiet.

Idiot.

Absolute idiot.

But then something in his chest twisted, stubborn. If he walked away now, he’d regret it forever. So before he could talk himself out of it, he turned back and rang the doorbell again.

Please don’t be her parents.

Please don’t be her parents.

Please—

The door opened.

It was you.

Hair slightly messy, earrings gone, rings off which told him you were already winding down for the night.

“Steve?” you said. “Did you forget something?”

You stood there in the doorway looking at him like this was the most normal thing in the world, like boys didn’t usually show up on your porch ten minutes after dropping you off at midnight looking like they were about to either confess their love or throw up.

Your hair was half falling out of whatever you’d done to it for the dance, little pieces soft around your face, earrings gone, makeup smudged just enough to make you look real and tired and warm instead of polished and perfect. You had on an old sweater, sleeves too long, swallowing your hands, and Steve thought, distantly, that this version of you might actually kill him faster than the dress did.

“Steve?” you asked again, gentler this time. “Are you okay?”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing.

Closed it.

His brain was screaming at him to abort mission, go home, save whatever dignity he had left, but his heart was louder, pounding so hard he swore you could probably see it through his shirt.

“I— yeah. I mean. No. I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his hair, messing it up for once. “Can we— can we talk for a second?”

Your brows pulled together immediately, worried. You stepped out onto the porch and closed the door softly behind you so you wouldn’t wake your parents.

“Of course. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Yeah, he thought. I fell in love with you and you called me your friend and now I feel like I got hit by a truck.

Instead, he just looked at you.

God.

You were looking at him like you cared.

Like you were already bracing to help him.

It made everything worse and better at the same time.

“I just—” He exhaled hard, hands on his hips, pacing once like he was about to give a presentation. “When you said that thing earlier. The friend thing.”

You tilted your head. “What thing?”

“When you said thanks for being such a great friend,” he said.

“Oh.” You smiled a little. “Yeah. Because you are. You’ve been really sweet lately, Steve. Like, really sweet. You didn’t have to come to my debate stuff or help me carry books or—”

“That’s the thing,” he blurted.

You stopped.

He looked at you like he was about to jump off a cliff.

“I don’t do this for my friends, okay?” he said. “I don’t match ties and memorize your stupid study schedule and wait outside tutoring for forty minutes just to walk you there for my friends.”

You blinked.

“. . . You wait outside tutoring?”

“Yeah,” he said helplessly. “All the time. Because you always show up early and I didn’t want you sitting alone.”

Your brain stalled.

“I don’t read Jane Austen and whatever that other one is— Brontë?— for my friends. I don’t buy strawberry milk when it’s disgusting just because you like it. I don’t sign up for tutoring I don’t even need just to sit across from someone for an hour for my friends.”

Your mouth fell open a little.

“. . . You hate strawberry milk?”

“It’s terrible,” he said immediately. “I don't get how you drink it.”

You stared at him. “Huh,” you said faintly. “So you didn’t match your Snowball tie to my dress on accident?”

Steve froze.

“. . . You noticed that?”

“It was literally the exact same shade of blue,” you said. “I thought it was a coincidence.”

He let out this small, broken laugh and covered his face with his hand. “Oh my god. I spent two hours at the store trying to match it. Nancy almost killed me.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

Oh.

All those times he showed up. All those little things. The books. The seat saving. The tutoring. The way he looked at you like you were saying something important even when you were just rambling about mitochondria.

Your stomach flipped.

Steve dropped his hand and looked at you again, eyes wide and terrified and so soft it made your chest ache.

“I like you,” he said, finally, simply, like it cost him everything. “Not like a friend. Not even a little. I’ve liked you for months. I just— I didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that. You’re. . . you’re you. And I’m just me.”

You frowned immediately. “Steve.”

“No, let me finish before I pass out,” he rushed. “I just needed you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same. I just— I couldn’t go home with you thinking I was doing all this because I’m nice. I’m not that nice. I’m selfish. I do it because I want to be around you all the time. Because you’re my favorite person. Because when you talk about leaving Hawkins, it freaks me out because I can’t picture this place without you in it.”

Your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your ears.

He swallowed.

“So yeah. That’s it. I like you. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.”

For a second, neither of you said anything.

And then you stepped closer.

Steve immediately tensed like you were about to reject him and he was bracing for impact.

Instead, you reached out and grabbed the front of his jacket.

He short-circuited.

“Steve Harrington,” you said slowly, “you absolute idiot.”

His heart dropped. “Oh.”

“I thought you were just being nice,” you continued. “I thought you felt bad for me or something. I didn’t think. . . I mean, why would I think you liked me?”

He stared at you. “Why wouldn’t you?”

You gestured vaguely at yourself. “I’m me. I carry six books at all times and talk about scholarships for fun.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Exactly.”

Your throat tightened.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Oh.

The way he looked at you suddenly made sense.

Everything did.

You laughed a little, shaky and fond. “Steve, you’re such a dork.”

He smiled nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“But,” you said, stepping even closer, “for the record. . . I don’t go to dances with just friends either.”

His brain stopped working.

“. . . What?”

“I said,” you murmured, cheeks warm, “I wouldn’t have gone with you if I didn’t like you too.”

The hope that lit up his face was so bright it almost hurt to look at.

“Wait. Really?”

“Really.”

“Like. . . like like me?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Yes, Steve. Like like you. You’re cute. And you carry my books. And you listen to me talk about boring stuff without falling asleep. That’s basically marriage material.”

He laughed, breathless, disbelieving.

“You’re serious?”

“Steve,” you said softly, “I’ve liked you for a while. I just thought you were out of my league.”

He stared at you like you’d just told him the sky was purple.

“Out of— are you insane?”

You both laughed, nervous and giddy and a little overwhelmed.

And then you were just. . . standing there.

Close.

Really close.

His hands hovered awkwardly at your waist like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you.

You noticed. So you took pity on him and slid your hands up into his jacket, gripping the fabric.

His breath hitched.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, like it was the most fragile question in the world.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “You can.”

He leaned in slow, like he was scared you’d disappear if he moved too fast, one hand cupping your cheek so gently it made your chest ache. His lips brushed yours soft.

When you pulled back, you were both smiling like idiots, foreheads touching, noses bumping.

Steve let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “So. . . not just friends?”

You smiled, kissing him again. “Definitely not just friends.”

You had found Kurt late at night, he was walking down the side of the road during some heavy rain, completely soaked to the bone. The sight of somebody so dejected and completely alone tugged on your heartstrings so much that you ended up offering him a ride home.

He explained that his 'best friend' had pranked him by telling him that he knew a girl that would be interested in going on a date with him, to which nobody showed up, and Kurt was left sitting alone in the restaurant, trying not to cry when he realised what had happened.

He had been telling his Spree passengers all day that he had a date tonight, had bought himself a new outfit, hung it up ready for him when he got home, and lined all of his products up on the bathroom counter. All for nothing. A stupid prank.

Upon leaving the restaurant, he had learned that Bobby had gotten Kurt's car towed, and so not only did he have to pay $200 to get it back, he also had to walk home... In the rain.

You felt yourself holding back tears as he recounted the story, staring out of the window and refusing to make eye contact with you out of sheer embarrassment.

"You shouldn't give those people your time." Was the last thing that you said to him before you dropped him home, his number sitting snuggly in your phone.

It didn't take long for your kind gesture to bloom into the best thing in both your lives, that being your sweet relationship.

Kurt was truly your baby, you coddled him almost to a ridiculous level, but you honestly couldn't bear the thought of anyone sinking their poisonous claws into him again, and the only place he was truly safe was under your soft blankets, curled into your chest.

Like right now, you scratched his scalp, smelling the scent of the nice shampoo you had bought him. Kurt laid contently against your boobs, his eyes shut but not in an attempt to sleep. He was just in pure heaven.

He hadn't excepted to ever be in a position like this, let alone with a girl who was completely obsessed with him. He had known for a long time that he was unlovable, whether that be from the lack of attention his videos got, or the way that his closest 'friends' treated him. But you had so viciously ripped that version of thinking away from him.

"I love you." Your voice broke his thoughts, your lips against his temple. Kurt grinned, nestling his face deeper into you. "Sweet baby."

You looked at his perfect face, the way his eyelashes brushed his soft cheeks, as well as the perfect moles that you loved to kiss. You grinned automatically, never being able to withhold a smile when you looked at him. "You're so cute."

"No i'm not." He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled.

"Yes you are!" You pinched his cheek. You pulled the blankets slightly higher until they were tucked over his shoulders, which allowed him to nuzzle against you even more.

He genuinely didn't understand what you liked about him so much. He thought that he was a failed YouTuber with no prospects, no appeal, and no hope for his future. You thought that he was just the greatest thing ever, looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars.

Something about Kurt just made you want to cherish him in the most altruistic way possible. You greatly improved your cooking skills when you realised that Kurt only ate junk. You built him a hygiene routine when you knew that he struggled with taking care of himself. You just loved him so much, you'd do anything from him.

You kissed his head several times, until he was squirming underneath you, wrapping his arms around your waist so that he could feebly attempt to pull you closer. You grinned when you realised he was clinging to you, kissing his head one last time for good measure, then trailing your kisses down his face.

Across his cheeks, over his jaw, a couple on his lips which he desperately chased, but you didn't let yourself linger in one spot for too long, deciding he needed an equal spread of love. "Cutie baby." You whispered, smiling into one of the kisses.

You continued to spill small praises as his cheeks flushed pink, completely overwhelmed by the love that you continued to smother him with.

Kurt managed to angle his head up so that he could capture your lips in a quick kiss. "Aww." You cooed, brushing your fingers over his lips until he smiled again. He loved kissing you as much as you loved kissing him, but he was much shyer with it.

"I love you so much." You whispered, a wide grin on your lips. Your eyes were sparking as you looked at him, pupils completely blown from pure adoration.

You had always had such a big heart, and finally had a place to direct all of your love to. Kurt couldn't complain, for once in his life he felt taken care of, and you had squeezed away his touch-deprivation in the most delicate yet passionate way possible.

Kurt smiled, tightening his grip around you. "I- Yeah, I love you too." He stammered, his voice still flustered no matter how long you two had been together.

You grinned, squealing slightly when you heard his sweet words.

Your love presented itself in the way you touched and kissed Kurt, and while Kurt reciprocated as much as he could handle, which truthfully, wasn't a lot, he still had other ways of showing how much he loved you.

He learned how to do all of the household chores that he had never been taught just because he'd rather clean up so you can watch TV when you were tired after work than leave you to do it. It didn't matter whose mess it was.

He'd cut off Bobby and all of his terrible friends after you'd cried and begged him to stop talking to them, purely because you couldn't bear to watch him come home in silence while he was swallowed by a thick cloud of sadness, the weight of knowing it was wrong sitting heavy on his chest despite the fact he'd rather be stuck in that position than be alone again.

But he wasn't alone, he had you now, and that was all he needed.

If he ever began to feel alone, he knew that he could crawl into your arms and you'd hold him tightly until he forgot what he was sad about. It worked like a charm every time, and eventually his safe space became you.

After a bad day, the only thing on his mind was how good your arms were going to feel around him, how your lips on his face were going to fix anything that had gone wrong.

If a customer had berated him unfairly, he knew that your sweet words would wash away any pain from the encounter, filling his brain with beautiful thoughts. You never left him with any doubts about just how much you loved him.

He had never been somebody's favourite person before, but he liked it a lot, no matter if he felt a little out of his depth.

There are few things that Jack Abbot hates more than seeing you in his emergency department. 

Not for lack of appreciation for you-- no, he has plenty to appreciate about you. The first of which being your ass in those psych scrubs. They fit you like a glove. It was a sight tempting enough that he’s certainly contemplated admitting himself just to stare at you on his days off. 

It’s the sight of your pretty face in the dead of night that upsets him. 

When you’re still in the ED during his shift, it means you’re at the very best working a little later than usual. At the very worst, you’re working a 24-hour shift. 

Based on the way you’re cradling your head at the nurse’s station, he’s guessing it’s the latter. Unfortunately, it happens more often than he’d like. 

You’re a pleasure to work with. So sweet, so smart, so obedient. 

You’re also so much younger than him: a fact he both loves and hates to think about. 

He doesn’t know why your age makes it that much harder to see you working such long hours. When Whitaker or Javadi show up with swollen cheeks and dark eyes, he thinks nothing of it. If anything, he’s almost happy to see that the grueling demands of residency are still kicking the kids’ asses these days as much as they did when he was in medical school all those years ago. 

But you. 

He can’t stand the sight of your eyes looking so tired. He hates the heat on your cheeks from all of the caffeine you’ve consumed. The flyaways in your hair, ever beautiful, should be from something else, something more fun. 

On your off days, maybe you go dancing with your friends. Maybe the tired eyes are from a killer hangover, the hot cheeks from too much alcohol, and the flyaways are from running your hands through your hair all night long. 

The thought kills him. 

You shouldn’t be here right now. 

“Still here?” Is how he decides to greet you. 

Immediately, you stand straight, head snapping to attention before an easy smile falls across your face. 

“Dr. Abbot.” You exhale, relaxing your shoulders slightly. “Gosh, I think you just woke me up.”

He wants to bottle the shy giggle that falls from your lips as you swipe a thumb at the corner of your mouth. Tilting his head toward the break room, he grins softly. 

“Let’s get you a cup of coffee.” He puts his hand between your shoulder blades. Another laugh, and you’re staring up at him with a reluctant smirk. Still, you’re letting him guide you to the break room. He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What’s that look for?”

“Maybe no more coffee for me. I think I’ve had five cups today,” you admit, bringing your fingers up to your cheeks. They must be burning with that amount of caffeine. 

He chuckles at you, taking his hand off your back to open the door. Unsurprisingly, nobody else is in the kitchen when you both enter. 

You move for the fridge, grabbing a bag that he assumes is your lunch. There’s little cut-up fruits, half a sandwich, and a water bottle. You take it and then zip the bag back up, putting it in the same spot you got it from. 

“Are you here all night, sweetheart?” He takes a step closer, taking the sealed bottle from your hands and opening it for you. He brings it to his own mouth, taking a small sip before passing it back to you. 

Words betray you now. A little dumbly, you nod and take a sip from the bottle.

His eyes track your movement the whole time, except for when you move it from your lips. They’re fixed only on your mouth from then until you hold the water out to him. 

A teasing grin makes its way to his mouth. 

“You’re sweet,” he says lowly. Your bottle goes to his mouth again, and then he’s pushing it back into your palms. “Listen, I don’t know how good these long shifts are for you.”

“W-what?” A bead of water rolls over your lip.

His thumb is pressed against it instantly, catching it before it rolls onto your chin. Wordlessly, he brings the same finger to his mouth and wraps his own lips around it. He does it with such instinct that you almost don’t register the fact that he did it at all. 

You swallow hard. 

“You’re young.” Is all he follows up with. Your heart begins to beat a little harder.

“I-- I mean, I’m not that young,” you blubber. “I’ve finished school. I’m completely qualified to t-”

“You’re the most qualified, I have no doubt about that,” he interrupts, “but I think these doubles are going to burn you out. You shouldn’t have to work so much. It’s not how you should be spending the best years of your life.”

A small frown tugs down each corner of your mouth, and it makes Jack’s stomach twist and drop. He’s wrapped around your finger and you’ve got no fucking clue. 

“I’m a little confused,” you reply with a nervous chuckle. “I’m a resident, Dr. Abbot. Plenty of residents work this much, especially ones with a fellowship like me.”

“I just hate seeing you so worn out.” He nudges the bottle up toward your lips and you obey, letting him guide it to your lips. Your eyes are fixed on each other the whole time the cold water bites your sensitive teeth. 

For a moment, you hold the water in your mouth, chin tilted up to look at him. You’re waiting for permission. When he nods, you swallow it all in one gulp. There’s no questioning where this dynamic sprung from. Truthfully, it’s been here all along. 

You’ve never not eagerly obeyed every order he’s presented. You like Dr. Abbot. He looks after you. He’s confident near the point of cockiness, yet still so achingly gentle with you when you ask questions. 

This was bound to happen. 

“Am I doing something that’s making you doubt my ability to handle this?” You question as you continue to stare. 

The backs of your thighs are pushed up against the small circle table. One of his hands rests atop it, body pressing against yours. He’s solid, strong. His other palm holds your waist, and you notice his fingers flexing like he’s trying his best not to dig them into your skin. 

“Not at all,” he whispers. “You’re doing a real good job, sweetheart.”

Your brows draw together, hand wandering up to his face to trace the lines beside his mouth. They’re deep, carved into his skin even without his muscles moving. 

“Then what?”

“I’m just worried about you. You’re so young. This is a lot to take on.” He talks quieter with your hands trailing along his features. “You should consider cutting back on your hours. Spending less time here.”

You draw your hands back to your sides. A stricken expression crosses your face for a fleeting moment before it morphs into one of hurt. So quickly, your eyes well with tears and you’re pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. 

“O-ok. I can ask to strictly keep my fellowship to day shift, but I think that-”

“What?” He’s louder again, and both his hands hurry to cup your face. It doesn’t hurt much when he cranks your head to force you to look at him. “Baby. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It sounds like you don’t want to see me here anymore,” you pout. “I’m not trying to be here too much, I just-- I get paged, and usually my patients need evaluation and monitoring until they’re transferred to psych, and I-- I guess I do end up on nights a lot. I don’t mean to be a bother. Especially not to you. I’m so sorry, Dr. Abbot.”

A stronger man would tell you to quit calling him that. Especially when he’s holding your face centimeters away from his own. His throbbing dick is pressing into your stomach for fuck’s sake. 

But he’s not a strong man. You make him weak.

Hearing you think that he’s bothered by your presence carves a big, aching hole in his chest. 

“I love having you here. I’m sorry. Don’t go, baby, please,” he begs. 

Your eyes widen even more, a tear slipping from the corner. Caution to the wind, he closes the distance between you to press his lips to where it’s rolled to the top of your cheekbone. When he pulls back, he licks his lips. Your tear is wet and salty on his tongue. 

“You love having me here?” You repeat. 

“Course I do, sweetheart.” He smoothes out those flyaways on your head while he maintains his steady eye contact. “Now don’t cry, ok? I don’t want to start my day off by making a pretty girl cry in my arms.”

That brings a small giggle out of you, and you’re throwing yourself into him shortly after. His arms wrap around your middle. Strong and sure as always. 

“Dr. Abbot?” You mumble into his chest. 

He hums, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. 

“You love having me here the most, right?” You pull away to reveal a teasing grin. “I’m your favorite, aren’t I?”

God, that’s his favorite smile. He can’t bring himself to care that your teasing questions are your way of innocently poking fun at him and his obvious attraction. Though, he sometimes wonders if you notice it for what it is. 

A desperate yearning for his coworker. His student, really. Much, much younger student, at that. 

He didn’t know if Heaven was open for guys like him who went home and jacked off to pictures of their younger coworker from the hospital website. But he knew that Heaven was tangible when he was looking here at your pretty lips. 

“You’re my favorite.” He brings his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss that lasts a moment longer than it should. “There’s not even a competition.”

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You did your best to adjust your expression and be empathetic. “Okay, well that didn’t happen with Sheryl, did it?” He shook his head. “Maybe you’re still stuck on Sheryl.”

He shrugged, letting himself relax a little. “Eh, not really. She was fun, but clingy.”

You sighed, leaning forward like a scientist observing him under a microscope. “Other than like… the finale, was the sex good?”

“Yes! And the date was perfectly fine too.” He sat up straighter, crossing his arms across his chest. He was telling the truth… mostly. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t amazing. It was just… fine. He gave you a half-smile. “Thanks for letting me talk to you about this. Robin would be all weird about it.”

You smiled teasingly. “Oh, Robin would’ve bailed the moment you said the word cum.” You altered your voice into a shockingly accurate impression of your friend. “‘Ew, Steve! I don’t want to hear about the details of hetero sex. I faked mono during sex-ed for a reason.”

“She would’ve agreed about Katie’s tits, though,” Steve insisted. “She’d pretend to be mortified that I’m objecting women or whatever, but she’d agree.”

You laughed and shook your head at his words, and he felt a tiny tug in his chest— some sort of like, stirring, big feeling.

He didn’t get it. The two of you had been friends since Freshman year, when you moved next door to Carol and she dragged you to every hangout, big and small. He always sort of figured that Carol was trying to set you up with him, but neither of you ever made a move.

He wasn’t sure why he felt that uncomfortable ache in his chest when you smiled lately. There had never been any feelings there in all the time he’d known you, right? Sure, he thought you were hot— that’s why he had to give you dating advice all the time—but that was different.

"Maybe you just need to find the right girl, or something,” you said earnestly. “Like… maybe your dream girl is right in front of you, and even if your brain doesn’t know it, your body does.”

You tucked your permed hair behind your ear and it made his stomach drop like he was on a roller coaster. And he was confused about how such a tiny sensation could feel so overwhelming when he heard the bells above the door ring.

The girl approached the counter with big brown eyes and hair that looked a little fried by bleach and perm solution. He did love curls, though.

“I called this morning,” she said, her voice low and sultry. He liked sultry. “Some guy named Keith set aside Footloose for me? Should be under Rebecca Martin, or Becky, maybe.”

Steve smiled and turned on the charm.

Becky wasn’t the hottest thing to moan during sex, but Steve Harrington wasn’t a quitter. He’d just… avoid names in general.

Steve was a gentleman. They’d gone to dinner a few nights prior, and he’d been polite and kissed her at the front door. It had gone well enough to tell Robin about, which was saying something. He liked her sense of humor, she was sweet, and her perfume was so nice that it was practically addicting.

The second date wasn’t as formal. Movie at his place, stealing his parents’ fancy wine out of the cabinet like a high schooler. It started innocently enough that he wasn’t even sure if he should go any further, keep things cool, really see this one through this time.

But, Jesus Christ, did she have other plans. Pretty, pink manicured nails traced along his thigh, dimpling the fabric of his jeans, which were already tight enough. She played coy— eyes on the movie, a satisfied smirk on her lips as her hand paused just below where he wanted it. He squirmed, just slightly, feeling his dick stir with interest. She batted big doe-eyes at him and furrowed her brows in a very practiced manner.

“Something wrong?” She asked, and he could see the amusement in her gaze as her hand wandered up, cupping the bulge that was swelling in the front of his jeans. She sprung into action after he captured her lips in a hungry kiss, making quick work of the button and zipper so she could wiggle her hand beneath his boxers.

Her hand was deliciously soft, and he liked the soft gasp of surprise that escaped her when she took him into her hand and gave a testing stroke. It was dry, and a little uncomfortable until she spat into her hand and started over. It felt good. She felt good.

“Do you wanna go to your room?” Her words were damp against the column of his throat, no doubt leaving pink stains from her lipstick.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah. I want to.”

——

His cheeks were burning as he watched Becky redress, hurriedly tugging her panties up her legs. Her annoyance and disappointment was blatant in her features, and it made his chest ache with mortification.

“That doesn’t—“ He shook his head. That doesn’t usually happen sounded like a stupid excuse, especially considering that his last hookup had ended similarly. This time had been worse. “I don’t know why that happened.”

She shrugged, shimmying into her denim skirt. “It’s whatever, Steve.”

“No, no I mean it,” he said, trying to fight the frown on his lips, trying to seem at least a little… casual about it all. He’d gone down on her until she came apart right on his tongue, then he took his time to get her stretched out and ready for him until she couldn’t take anymore and begged for him.

He wanted to fuck her, he wanted to feel her around him, warm and tight and pliant, blinking prettily up at him while she moaned and gasped. So why wouldn’t his body let him do it?

What the fuck?

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” As soon as he heard the pity in her voice, he nearly wanted to die. “I’m only in town to visit my aunt anyway.”

“This really never happens to me,” he insisted. The look on her face— the subtle mix of disbelief and scorn— made him feel like he was a bug under her shoe.

He didn’t bother redressing more than just tugging on his boxers as she left, and he was grateful she at least let him walk her to the door after the world’s most disastrous hookup attempt.

He groaned in annoyance as he closed the door behind him, running his hands through his mussed-up hair. He was at the phone before he even realized where he was walking, dialing the number through sheer muscle memory.

“Hello?” Your voice crackled along the line, sounding sleepy. What time was it?

“Hey,” Steve said, leaning against the wall where the phone was mounted. He didn’t need to worry about calling directly from his personal line when his parents weren’t home. Besides, he was sweating, smelled like sex, and there was something comfortable about the cool, empty room downstairs. “Am I bothering you?”

“Nuh-uh,” you hummed, and he heard something shuffle on your side of the phone. “Just painting my nails. What’s up? I thought you were busy with Becky tonight?”

His heart thumped uncomfortably and he wished he hadn’t called. “Yeah, uh, she left.”

“Oh,” you replied, and he could picture the look of soft concern you would be wearing. “You sound disappointed. Did it not go well?”

Steve scratched at his chest, the hair there still a bit tacky with sweat. “Permission to overshare?”

You paused. “Hm…” Another beat. “Uh, I guess so. Why not?”

You were quiet as Steve recounted the experience with you, right down to the horrific realization that he couldn’t stay hard and their night had to be cut short. He waited as soon as he explained Becky's departure, waiting for you to laugh or tease him.

“That’s tough, but it happens, Steve,” you said softly. “Maybe your heart wasn’t in it.”

He groaned again, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I don’t care if my heart was in it. I wanted my dick to be in it.” He paused. “That wasn’t on purpose, but you know what I mean. My heart has never been a problem before.”

“Well, stress can impact performance,” you explained. “Especially if you’re psyching yourself out about whether or not you’re going to get off. Permission for me to overshare?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Permission granted.”

“Last year when they hired me at The Gap at the mall and made me a manager for no reason, I was so fucking stressed out that I couldn’t get myself off for weeks. Like, I tried everything. You know what finally helped?”

Steve swallowed. Hard. “W-what?”

“I turned off my brain for a few hours. I just let my hands wander a bit, figured out what felt good, and explored that for a while before moving on to the next spot. Eventually, I made myself cum without even realizing what I was doing.” You paused, and he heard a nervous laugh slip past your lips. “Um, that's just, like, a suggestion.”

The mental image was enough to make his cock twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers. He swallowed, trying to block out the images of you; naked, hand between your thighs, writhing in pleasure. His length throbbed again, because despite his best efforts, the image didn’t go away.

“I’m just trying to explain that it’s super common to have issues getting off, and it’s not weird!” You said, the silence clearly making you antsy. “Did that help at all?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “Robin would say this is a sign from the universe that I should just be single for a while.”

“Maybe.” You paused. “Give yourself some time, alright? You’ve been through a lot, Steve. Stuff like that is bound to catch up sooner or later.”

You were waiting for him by your next shift, sneaking past Robin to pull him aside. “Did you try it?” You asked, blinking up at him.

“What?” He furrowed his brows until you mimed jerking off and his cheeks fucking burned. “Oh, no. I wasn’t up for it.” He groaned. “I didn’t mean it like that either.”

“I know, I know,” you assured, a pretty smile on your lips. “So, do you think that Becky’s not…”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again, which blows.”

You shrugged. “Screw that. You can find someone way better, alright?” He wanted to roll his eyes as you grabbed his shoulders in your hands, making him look right at you. When he tried to look away, you repeated yourself. “Alright?”

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, alright.” He wriggled out of your grip. “Can you just hand me the returns cart so I can shelve them?” You shrugged and passed him the cart, eager to offload your tasks if he was willing to take them.

He needed a distraction. Because you were wearing a black miniskirt with your dumb family video vest, and a fucking Star Wars shirt he would’ve found dorky if you weren’t perfectly endearing.

You were giggling and smiling, fighting with Robin over a copy of some movie you both were dying to see before the other. He sighed as he shelved a copy of A Christmas Story, wondering why someone would’ve rented that in August.

He got the cart shelved, helped a nice old lady find a Hitchcock movie she’d liked when her late husband showed her, and even reorganized the snack counter before he finally came upon a hitch in his day.

“Steve!” Your voice was barely a whisper, coming from Keith’s office. He looked around at the store, where Robin was sitting unfazed at the main counter, and slipped past the door.

Oh fuck. You were bent over Keith’s desk, legs sprawled awkwardly, tugging hopelessly at where your shirt was caught on a screw pinning it and you to the wall. He couldn’t even fathom how you’d gotten into that position— maybe reaching for something that had fallen behind the bulky desk?

Worst of all, that stupid mini skirt. Bent over the desk, he saw the baby blue cotton of your panties. His mouth went dry. He’d forgotten why he’d walked into the room in the first place.

“Steve! My shirt is stuck on one of the screws,” you explained, squirming slightly with impatience. “I got this when Empire came out, it’s irreplaceable. Just pull the desk out so I can move.”

It took a few seconds for his brain to comprehend what was asked of him. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Easy-peasy.” He grimaced. Why the fuck did he say that?

“Steve, hurry.” He tried not to look back at your ass as he approached the desk, giving it a slight tug so you were no longer pinned. You stumbled a bit before standing and tugging your skirt down, giving him a sheepish smile. “Jesus, that was so stupid. I dropped my time card clocking in from my break. Thanks Steve.”

With the desk pulled out, you grabbed it easily and waved it in front of his face. He gave a weak heh as you patted his shoulder and sauntered back out.

He leaned against the wall, relishing in how cold it was against his weirdly hot body. He wasn’t dumb. He knew you were attractive. He thought you were fucking stunning. But you were his friend, not someone he was trying to fuck around with.

Imagine his surprise when he found himself already half-hard just from barely even a glimpse of your panties when he couldn’t even get it up for the girls he was actually trying to sleep with.

“God fucking damn it,” he muttered, adjusting himself as best as he could before stepping out of the office. As soon as he hit the floor, Robin grabbed his arm and tugged him towards a box of new releases.

“Hey, Stevie, do you mind putting out the pornos? I would but… you know. I don’t really want to.”

Better and better. “Yeah, what would Gloria Steinem think if she knew you saw a VHS sleeve that showed tits?” He raised a brow and took the new box, boasting salacious titles like— Slutty Slumber Party and Cock Fight III.

She pinched his cheek with a grin and patted his back. “You’re the best, Steve.” He rolled his eyes. He knew that already.

You caught up to him before he could pass the privacy curtain that partitioned the triple X section from the rest of the store, peering down into the box.

“Let me help you put these out,” you offered, already scooping up as many titles as you could carry from the box. It was his worst nightmare come to life— an inconvenient boner, his cute friend, and a million sets of tits and dicks everywhere the eye could see.

It was blissfully quiet as he focused intensely on alphabetizing the titles. You helped him do stuff all the time, no need for him to make it weird just because you were shelving movies like Hot Groupie Fuckfest 2.

“Maybe you should sneak one of these home,” you finally said, turning the title in your hand towards him. “It could help.”

“I don’t need tapes to get off,” he insisted, maybe a little too defensively. “I like magazines better anyway. Classier.” He swore internally, realizing he had revealed something extremely private that he hadn’t shared with anyone.

You shrugged and continued shelving. “Magazines are cool,” you replied, rather awkwardly, like you were walking on eggshells. “Very classy.”

“Nothing is wrong with me,” he finally said. His mortification had gotten the best of him and the words just came out. “I’m fine.”

“Okay…” you replied, a furrow between your brows. “I never said you weren’t, Steve. I’m just—“

“Trying to help— I know but…” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “Let’s drop it, alright?” You nodded in agreement and he sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The two of you stood there for a moment before you nodded back to the crate. “Okay, we’ve got, like, three dozen more to stock, so let’s just get it done.”

He hated that he’d upset you, or offended you, or made you feel any way towards him other than perfectly happy. But what was he supposed to do? The entire ordeal was utterly humiliating.

And you seemed totally unbothered as you read the back cover of some girl on girl flick, interest in your eyes. Were you into that stuff? Was that what you liked thinking about? Why was he even concerned about what you think about?

You shelved the movie and moved on— grabbing your next pile, one that took you across the room to the shelf of more taboo, kinky stuff. He stared as you got onto your knees, bending over to stock the bottom shelf. And there he was— greeted by another tiny flash of your panties under the fluorescent lights just before you tugged your skirt down.

His cock stirred with interest, toeing the line between half-hard and impossible to ignore. Jesus. Were you doing it on purpose?

“Hm? Doing what?“ you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Because if you mean stocking the weird shit on the bottom shelf, that’s a yes. No one wants to walk in and be eye-level with Fist Fest II.”

There was something about your smile then— sweet, like you had no idea the torment you were putting him through. He wanted to cry. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin ignored him as he practically darted past her and into the back rooms. He didn’t even bother clocking out for his break before he ducked into the employee’s only bathroom and locked the door behind himself.

He wasn’t an animal. Typically, he had self control. But a week of being unable to get off combined with your obliviousness as to what you were doing to him had him ready to jump out of his skin.

He fumbled with his belt, the metal clinking echoed off of the tile walls as he practically ripped it off. He made quick work of the button and zipper of his fly, practically moaning with relief at the lack of restriction. He spat into his hand before he shoved it into his briefs, crying out in relief before he thought better of it and bit onto his fist to keep quiet.

This, he realized as he grew frustrated with the lack of mobility and pulled his dick out at work, was a new low for him. Teeth cut into the meat of his palm as he fucked his hand in earnest, muffled moans coming out strangled and desperate. There wasn’t time for teasing, for drawing it out like he usually did when he was alone. It felt like his body was a rubber band, stretched and poised to snap.

And, god help him, he was thinking about you. Of you bent over Keith’s desk, legs gangly and awkward, ass in the air, wriggling to try to free yourself before caving and asking him for help. Steve was a gentleman. He only spared one look of shock before averting his eyes. But fantasies didn’t hurt anyone.

Fantasies about you doing it on purpose— arching your back and wiggling your hips invitingly because you wanted him to see you like that. In another world, where you wanted him and he wanted you, he would’ve relished in that scenario. Of you teasing and entrapping him in some game of cat and mouse. Of fucking you over the stupid squeaky desk and covering your mouth so Robin didn’t hear. Biting into your shoulder to keep himself quiet.

He came thinking about you, a guttural, desperate moan cutting into the air despite his best efforts to stay quiet. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a release until he was coming down, his hand sticky and warm, cum painting the tile in front of him.

“Jesus fucking— goddamn it.” His voice wavered, most of his energy sapped. He felt pathetic as he stuffed his softening length back in his briefs and tugged his pants up, wincing at the sensitivity. And he felt even more pathetic as he grabbed paper towels from the dispenser and cleaned up his spend from the bathroom wall at his fucking workplace.

A sudden loud knock sounded on the door, nearly making him yelp. “Are you okay in there, dingus?” Robin asked, her genuine concern masked by the sarcasm that dripped from her tone. “You ran past like you needed to shit, or something, so I wanted to check.”

He sunk onto the gross bathroom floor and banged his head against the wall. Dying, he decided, would have been less painful than whatever this was.

It had been days, and he had yet to cum unless you were at the top of mind. It had to be a coincidence, like he’d Pavlov-ed himself into only getting hard if he thought about you.

No. That wasn’t exactly true. He could get hard, he just couldn’t cum unless he thought about you. There was a big difference, and it meant he wasn’t totally broken after all. It meant he could fix it.

The most inconvenient thing about it was the fact that he had to jerk off before any shifts with you or he’d have to repeat that first bathroom session, which was something he really, really wanted to leave in the past.

There was a possibility that there was something to the situation at hand— that the reason for his body’s reaction to you was beyond just physical. But that was dumb, and every time that tiny voice in his brain told him to consider it, Steve just shook it off.

His phone rang at his bedside and he sighed, tossing the book he’d been trying to read for the past hour with no avail.

“Yeah?” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He really needed some glasses, huh?

“Hey, Steve, it’s me.” Your voice was like music over the phone, and he sat up quickly, like you were there to witness his lazy, slouchy morning. “I was just calling to ask if you could cover my shift this afternoon. I know it’s a big ask since it’s so last minute, but I can totally pay you back double sometime.”

He scratched the back of his neck. Fucking Keith was on the schedule tonight, and they hated each other. Then again, it wasn’t like he had any plans. He couldn't risk another failed hookup, or word might get around that he was a limp dick loser. “Mhmm. Shouldn’t be too bad,” he lied.

You sighed with relief on the other end. “You’re a lifesaver, Steve. I thought I was gonna have to cancel my date.”

His heart stuttered for a few moments before he recovered and tried to act casual about it. “Date? I didn’t even know you were…” He trailed off, unsure of how to even finish that sentence. His voice was higher than usual, so he cleared his throat to brush it off.

You laughed. “Yeah, I know it’s been a while. I figured I should stop waiting around for something to fall into my lap and just put myself out there, or something. You know, just… casually, nothing too serious.”

Oh. He didn’t have the right to feel disappointed, and yet… He wanted to tell you not to go, to stay home like normal, and keep things like they were already. He didn’t want to imagine you with some random Hawkins asshole right now, especially when he couldn’t think of a single person in city limits who might be worthy of your time.

It was crazy. He’d set you up on plenty of dates and coached you through even more. He didn’t have any reason to feel weird about it now.

“Steve? Did I lose you?” You asked softly. “I know you’re still dealing with… you know, everything. I don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want me to. God, hearing you talk about getting laid while I was having a dry spell used to make me want to rip my hair out.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Go have a good date, and don’t let him have all the fun, alright?”

You laughed, and he could picture you wrinkling your nose the way you always did when he said something dumb. “I would never. Thanks again, Steve.”

You were giddy at work the next morning, a pretty glow about you, an unusual chipper attitude that you shared with every single guest. You weren’t even being particularly snarky with him or Robin.

“Good night?” He asked, despite not really wanting to know. God, it was like there were two halves of himself constantly working against the other.

You smiled brightly, and he almost winced. “It was so good. I think you know him— Andy from Varsity baseball in ‘84. He graduated a year earlier than us and goes to Purdue. He’s living at home while he’s doing an internship for some financial firm.”

“What happened to just being casual?” Steve asked, brows furrowing as he looked at you.

You laughed in lieu of a response and grabbed the box of merchandise for the latest new releases. He stood there dumbly until Keith knocked into his shoulder.

“Back to work, Harrington,” he said in that stupid, asshole voice of his. “These returns aren’t going to shelve themselves.”

——

“You’re glowering.” Robin whispered into his ear a few days later, so close it made him jump out of his frustrated stupor and back into reality.

“I’m not, I'm just focused,” he insisted, even though his eyes were burning holes into the back of Andy’s head. He hit stop on the tape he had successfully rewound and put it back into the case, then back into the cart for shelving.

It was the sort of monotonous task that gave him time to ruminate. And to glower.

Why was Andy even there? Just to distract you from work and charm his way into your pants? Again? You’d been shelving the same tape of The Outsiders for twenty minutes, at least.

God, he sounded like Keith. Wasn’t that terrifying?

“Do you remember him from high school?” Steve finally asked, sparing a glance back at Robin. She shrugged, and he whipped his gaze back to the two of you. His hand was on your hip, dangerously close to grabbing your ass. Classless, asshole college guy. “Yeah, I figured. He graduated in ‘84. Third baseman.”

Robin snorted. “I bet.”

“Cute. Very charming, Robin,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. He stopped the tape and slipped the cover back on. “Whatever. He just doesn’t seem her type, that’s all.”

Robin rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand before he could reach for the next tape. “Steve. Andy is exactly her type. Sweet guy, athletic, charming…” She raised her brows, like she was trying to make a point. But to Steve, the only point she seemed to be making was that Andy was the total package and he was a loser.

“I’m not glowering,” he repeated, if only to prove it to himself. “I’m just trying to finish up the rewinds since we’re down an employee.” He gave a lazy gesture towards the front of the store, where you and Andy were making eyes at each other.

Not jealous. Not jealous at all. Just… sexually frustrated. That was an easy fix.

His Rolodex was filled with girls who he’d fooled around with. When he got home, he flipped through the remaining names, each eliciting vague memories.

Deanna was hot… she had a weird laugh though. Not like you. Your laugh was a nice, warm sound. He liked your laugh more than anything. As a friend. Of course.

Maybe Kelly? She was sweet, pretty. Not as pretty as you were, obviously, but who was?

He tried calling a few, but most of them wanted nothing to do with a guy who’d forgotten to call for a few months. After his third rejection, he gave up entirely. He didn’t really have it in him to lead another girl on, anyway.

Maybe there was something there he should acknowledge. That itching, stirring feeling of want that had started to fester months ago. Gnawing at the edges of each interaction he had with you. Maybe it had always been there and his dumb body was making him do something about it, just like you’d said.

He was in a mood for the next week. He hadn’t felt this pent up since after graduation, when he had to wear a sailor uniform and perform a public humiliation ritual for minimum wage.

You sidled up to him at the register at closing, where he was getting a sick sort of satisfaction in checking on all of the late charges about to hit the overdue rentals.

You were dressed like you were going to go on a date later— with one of your favorite tops and that goddamn mini skirt. Even worse, you were smiling a pretty smile like you wanted something, which made the itch of irritation claw at his tongue. “I’m not taking another one of your shifts so that you can go out with Andy,” he said sternly, with a narrowed glance at you.

Your brows raised and you gave him a look that told him he was being an asshole, which he already knew. “Okay, one, I wasn’t going to ask you to take one of my shifts, and two, who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

He just huffed. “Sorry, long day.” Long month. “I’m being a dick.”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you are… but I forgive you.” You brushed your hair back and leaned imperceptibly closer. It probably wasn’t on purpose, but your arm pushed against his and you were so warm, and you smelled like the Avon perfume your mom always bought you. ”Let’s hang out tonight. I feel like I only ever see you at work lately. I’ll rent us a movie, grab some dinner on the way… it’ll be just like old times.”

The realistic part of his brain told him it was a bad idea. He’d been plagued with graphic, explicit images of you playing in his head at the worst of times. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be normal about hanging out at your place.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. It would be the thousandth time he’d been over, but the odds of him getting an inconvenient, persistent boner around you were frustratingly high.

But his alternative was going home to sulk alone and sink deeper into his funk, so he nodded. “Yeah, sounds fun.” It would be fine. He could persevere.

——

Your basement had always been his favorite place to hang out. Unlike his own parents who wanted input into every facet of his young life, your parents let you do whatever the hell you wanted to the space, as long as they could store their treadmill and your mom’s Tupperware stock.

It was lit with old Christmas lights and covered in tchotchkes that you had found in garage sales. Old quilts, your grandma’s macrame, needlepoint throw pillows. It was like an estate sale had crawled inside to die, and he loved it.

The couch had an uncomfortable spring that always dug into his thighs, you picked a really dumb movie, and you had slightly burned the popcorn on the stove, but he couldn’t complain. Maybe he did need this.

”So… are you still seeing Andy?” He asked when the movie hit a lull. It wasn’t that he wasn’t paying attention, it was just hard to focus.

You laughed, shaking your head. You were sprawled across the ugly floral couch, legs in his lap, curled up facing the TV. “Ew, no,” you said with an eye roll. “He was fun at first, but I was just kind of using him, you know?”

Did he know? Probably not, but he nodded like he understood anyway. He took another handful of the mildly-burnt popcorn and watched you out of his periphery (which was, admittedly, not what it used to be).

He tried to focus on the movie some more, but it was you that broke the silence next. You shifted your legs a bit to get comfortable before he felt your gaze on him. “So, how’s your problem?” You asked.

His cheeks felt hot, like his entire head had been shoved under the heat lamp in Dustin’s turtle’s tank. “Oh,“ he cleared his throat. “Fine, I guess. I don’t know, actually. I haven’t been on any dates since Becky, so…”

“Really? Why not?” You asked, brows knit.

His expression was incredulous. Why not? Oh, nothing too bad— just that I can’t get hard lately unless I’m fantasizing about you. “Why do you think? This is totally reputation killing stuff here. I’ll be lucky if the entire female population of Hawkins doesn’t think my dick doesn’t work.”

You shifted closer, but your legs were still heavy in his lap, which he was growing increasingly conscious of. “What about when you’re alone?”

His heart started to hammer as thoughts flooded his brain of the session he’d had in the shower that morning, which had been, in part, fueled by a quick perusal of his photo album from last summer and the handful of pictures of you in a remarkably high cut swimsuit.

“Uh…” His voice was higher than usual, and he tried to bring it back down to Earth before continuing. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, glancing only briefly at your lips before forcing himself to look back up at your eyes. “Normal. It’s normal.”

“So, if that's normal, what do you think about when you’re alone?”

His throat feels tight as he tries to think of something to say other than you, you, you, you. You in your stupid granny pajamas, you in the backseat of his car, you bending over to shelve DVDs… you had burrowed into his mind and totally corrupted it. He squints, like he’s considering anything else. “Um… normal things. Just… normal stuff, you know?”

You sighed out a soft huh, and there was something in your gaze that made his stomach flip. It was an expression he’d never seen you wear so plainly, especially not towards him. Pure, hungry desire, so obvious that he had to have been imagining it. “Steve,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes, swallowing. “Mhmm? Yeah?”

“You’re hard right now.”

He glanced down as you shifted your legs again and had to swallow a pathetic moan at the tiniest amount of friction. And, well, he was obviously, undeniably hard in his jeans.

“Oh, that’s just… y’know, from me remembering all of the totally normal stuff that I—“

The rest of his lame excuse was swallowed by the warm press of your lips against his. Lapped away as your tongue slipped into his mouth and took every rational thought away with it. It was slow and sweet, like you were trying your best to savor every second of it. Jesus, had you always been that good of a kisser?

When you pulled back, with spit-glossed lips and met his gaze, he felt so turned on that his head started to swim. He couldn’t find words for how he was feeling, for how he’d been feeling, so he offered a meager, “You’re really good at that.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, and his heart did that thing again, which felt more embarrassing than the obvious bulge straining in his Levi's. For once, his body’s ability (or lack thereof) to function was the least of his worries.

“I don’t know how much more obvious I can possibly make it,” you said softly. “I’m really into you.”

His brows furrowed. For a second, he thought he might have slipped in the shower, died, and woken up in a very forgiving afterlife. “What? Since when?”

You swallowed and chewed your lip sheepishly for a moment. “Um, on and off since I’ve known you, but, like, very much on since graduation.”

It was like a fog had lifted over his memories. The lingering touches and flirty eyes across the rooms. The late nights on the phone, where it felt like talking to Steve was the only place you wanted to be. And, frankly, it had been all he wanted to do too.

Maybe he had been a total idiot this whole time. A dense, oblivious dumb ass who had been ignoring his dream girl because she was one of his best friends first.

Then his brows knit deeper, forming two parallel furrows between your brows. “But you were just dating Andy.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “I was trying to make you jealous, which obviously worked since Robin told me that she caught you pouting.”

Robin. “I didn’t pout,” he insisted, but he knew that lying was futile. He had just… glared in Andy’s general direction. “Okay, fine. If that was on purpose, I’m guessing your panty flashing was too.”

That seemed to make you pause. Your head tilted, brows furrowing. “I’m sorry, my what?”

He blanched, embarrassed. “You know, the time you wore this same skirt, and you got stuck on Keith’s desk. You were messing with me, obviously.”

He could see the gears turning in your mind as you thought back to when you’d gotten stuck on the desk. As soon as the grin split across your features, he wanted to melt right into the shitty couch cushions and die next to the fucked-up spring. “You think I’d risk my Empire shirt just to turn you on?” You questioned, frankly offended at the insinuation. When his face went pink with embarrassment, you looked positively giddy. “Oh my god, Harrington you perv—“

He had you pinned on your back before you could fully form the insult, planting kisses to your neck. “You’re so evil,” he mumbled into your throat, lips grazing, soft and wet against your fluttering pulse. Each kiss made you squirm beneath him, which wasn’t doing much to help him cool down. “You’ve been driving me crazy, like you’ve got some sort of witchy spell on me.”

You giggled, and the sound went straight into the warm, gooey center of himself. “Did it turn you on?” You gasped softly. He groaned as you hooked one of your legs around his thigh and pulled him closer against you, so he was grinding directly against your core.

Did it turn him on? It had led to one of the most humiliating moments of his life, of which there had been many. It was embarrassing, but the sound of your laughter was like a drug to him, so he’d throw himself into the fire for your amusement. “It turned me on so much that I had to jerk off in the employee bathrooms,” he mumbled against your throat.

That was a dumb thing to admit. A dumb, gross, creepy thing to tell one of your best friends. Your oldest friend! Stupid, stupid Steve—

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said finally. One of your hands came up and he shivered as he felt your nails combing through his hair. “But you could have just told me, dummy. We could’ve run out to my car so I could take care of it for you.”

Just the thought made his hips buck against yours, seeking sweet, sweet friction between your thighs. “Don’t say things like that,” he groaned. “If you talk like that it’ll fucking kill me, I swear.”

He pulled back, just to see the sharp, wet glint of your teeth as you smiled up at him. You drove him crazy. Before, it was just in the normal ways, like when you made him give you a ride into the city and didn’t give him gas money, or when you drank too much at a party and puked on his new sneakers.

This was new. He felt stricken by some new form of hysteria, where something as tiny as the smallest twitch in your brows made him feel overcome with intense need. Jesus, he’d never been so pent up in his life. He felt the soft pressure of your leg tugging him close again, then the slow roll of your hips against his.

"Fuck," he panted. It was embarrassing, frankly, how gone he already was. He leaned down, capturing your lips with his again, and relished in the slow drag of your tongue against his.

He'd never loved a kiss so much in his life. With you beneath him, grinding up against him and moaning against his lips. The way your tongue felt tangling with his. He got too lost in it— in the kiss, in your bodies pressing together. After a while, the kissing got lost and it was just the two of you, panting into each others mouths as you slowly ground against each other.

You pulled back first— lips kiss-swollen and slick. It took everything in him not to kiss you again.

“So…” You murmured, peering up at him. When you bit your lip sheepishly, he wanted to bury his face in your throat and groan. He watched, hypnotized, as your tongue slipped out and wet your lips. “Everything definitely feels like it's working like normal.”

He nearly whined as your other hand moved down and palmed him through his jeans. Your fingers pressed against his button, working it undone. He groaned as your hand wriggled past his waistband to grope him through his briefs.

It all felt so good, too good. Your thumb brushed over the damp fabric clinging to his weeping tip and he swore he saw stars. "Ah, just… just wait—" He choked out.

You froze, brow quirked. He could feel his cock twitching in your palm, and tried to think about horrible, disgusting things to keep from coming too soon. Demodogs, Russian torture, Tommy Hagan's gym locker, mopping random kids' puke off of the Scoops Ahoy tile. "What? Is it happening again?"

"No, no, the opposite," he panted. His eyes squeezed shut and he tried to control himself as best as he could, given the circumstances. You showed him a little bit of mercy and slipped you hand free, which he was immensely grateful for.

"So I beat the curse, huh?" You asked with a coy smile. "Becky Martin and Katie Frey can totally suck it."

Steve laughed, despite everything. "Jesus, you are the curse," he said, meeting your gaze. "For the past month, I could only get off if I was thinking about you." He swallowed, feeling vulnerable with you looking up at him. "Like I said… witchy spell."

He sat back as you pushed at his shoulders, encouraging him to sit back against the cushions. His eyes widened as you shifted into his lap, the weight of you warm and comfortable there. When he glanced down at where you sat on his lap, where your skirt rode up your thighs, he got a head rush. "You know…" You trailed off, looping your arms around his neck. "Usually, I'd never sleep with a guy who said I'm a curse."

He groaned as you tugged at the hair at the base of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and expose his throat. He laughed weakly, eyes half lidded as he looked at you. "Usually," he echoed.

You nodded and leaned closer, so he could feel the warm buzz of your proximity. Like every cell in his body was vibrating with the desire to just press against you. "Well, someone needs to fix that attitude of yours. You've been really bitchy for the past few weeks." He scoffed at your words, but couldn't fight the smile on his lips.

You sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the toned expanse of his torso. He hummed contentedly as your fingers combed through his chest hair, just exploring the newly exposed skin.

Your hands trailed down, following the trail of dark hair on his tummy that disappeared into his briefs. He swallowed hard as you wrapped your hand around his cock, warm and tight. He wanted to see though. He wanted to look at the way your manicured hand fit around him, so he tugged his pants down and moaned at the sight.

"You must really want this," you murmured, lips twitching up in what he could only recognize as pure triumph. "You're dripping." The pad of your thumb swept over his tip, gathering slick precum to make the glide of your hand smooth.

It didn't take much. Actually, it took a mortifyingly small amount of attention. Your hand just felt so good wrapped around him, and it was the very thing he'd been fantasizing about for the past month. You, in his lap, with your hand around his pulsing cock and your lips on his throat. It couldn't have been more than three pumps of your hand, not even enough time to get a good rhythm, and he was crying out with pretty moans and shooting thick ropes of cum all over his abdomen.

His chest was heaving like he'd just run a marathon as you worked him through it. "Fuck," he panted. "Nngh— You've gotta— Ah, fuck— 's too much." You relented, like a benevolent god, and released him from your grip, so his dick twitched and softened against his stomach.

"Is that how you sounded when you faked it for Katie?" You teased.

"Oh, fuck off," he panted, a smile splitting his features.

When his mind cleared enough to have a little bit of shame, he realized how embarrassing it was that he'd finished so fast. Maybe you were into him for other things, but he didn't want to risk losing you now. So as he hastily tugged his pants back up, he stumbled through an explanation. "I'm not usually, like… I mean… I do have stamina, typically."

"I actually think it's really sweet, Steve. It's like a compliment." He was going to argue more, then you licked the cum from your fingers to clean it up and he nearly blacked out at the sight. He couldn't wait a second more, he had to have his hands on you.

"Alright, your turn," he said, and before you could say anything, he had you pinned beneath him on the couch again. He worked the buttons of your shirt quickly, until it fell open at your sides. He sat up, just to take in the sight.

"You're so goddamn pretty," he practically groaned. With your shirt undone, he relished in the sight of your tits cupped by white lace. "I don't even wanna take it off."

"Steve," you gasped as his mouth moved down your throat and sternum, until he was planting wet, hot kisses onto the plush of your breasts. He moaned against your chest, propping himself with one arm so he could grope at your tit with his free hand. You keened, arching into the attention, and he relished in your neediness. "I think you should take it off."

Your wish was his command. Not that it was such a difficult ask. He made quick work of the clasp and let you shrug it off and onto the floor. He sat back and really had to fight the urge to whistle at the sight. "Goddamn," he murmured, letting his hands roam up your body and cup your breasts.

You rolled your eyes, but he could see the tiniest bit of bashfulness in your eyes. In the back of his mind, it was kind of weird. Not bad weird, just… different. You were the person he went with to the hair salon and watched the Bulls with. It felt odd to have you pinned beneath him, moaning softly as he squeezed the plush of your tits and teased your nipples.

To your credit, you let him take his time. You let his hands wander and explore at his own pace. Your breath hitched as his hands dipped lower, until he was hiking up the fabric of your mini skirt to reveal your panties. Baby blue.

"Oh, fuck you," he groaned, meeting your gaze. "It was on purpose, you liar."

You grinned, and the smug expression you wore made him feel like his chest was going to implode. "I don't know what you're talking about, Steve. Do you really think I'd play mind games to torment you when you're pent up and needy?"

Yes, actually. He huffed and shifted down your body. He felt right at home with your thighs bracketing his head. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

The pastel of your panties betrayed just how affected you were, much to his amusement. He ran a thumb over the damp patch at your center and felt your thighs tense on either side of him. "You must really want this," he said with a grin, echoing your previous teasing.

"Jesus, of course I do," you said, breath shuddering as he thumbed at your clit through the sodden fabric. "You're, like, my dream guy, and you're about to go down on me."

Your dream guy. Steve's pulse thrummed as he took it in. You were incredible, way too good for a Hawkins loser who spent his shifts renting video tapes. To be fair, you were also spending your days shelving video tapes, but he always felt like that was a brief stop in your life that you'd move on from.

But if you thought he was good enough to be your dream guy, maybe there was something worthwhile left in him after all.

He kissed your clit through your panties almost reverently. His tongue laved over the fabric and he groaned at the taste of you saturating the cotton. God, you were like heaven. He could have stayed like that for hours— just tasting you through your panties. Each lap over your center just soaking the fabric more, until it clung to the shape of your lips like a second skin.

It wasn't enough though, and he was too lost in his desire to be particularly patient. He wanted his tongue on you, in you, licking up every drop of your juices until he made you spill more onto his tongue. He sat up and tugged your panties down, then quickly repositioned himself between your legs with your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve's tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he took in the sight of your pussy. Slick with arousal, twitching with anticipation. He ran his thumb up the seam of you, spreading you open. He relished in the cute twitch of your clit as blew a puff of cool air over your heated, sensitive skin.

"You're really pretty," he murmured. "So wet for me. And so goddamn responsive." He grinned up at you from between your thighs, relishing in the way your tits heaved with each shuddery breath.

His tongue lapped at your center, tasting just how badly you've wanted him. You writhed beneath him, thighs tensing to clamp around his head before he finally just held them apart. He started to taste you in earnest then, lapping up your juices, stroking the bud of your clit with the flat of his tongue.

You tasted so good, practically gushing onto his tongue as he feasted on you. His tongue pressed against your entrance, just barely dipping in so he could feel the way you clenched around the intrusion.

"Fuck, Steve," you panted. Your hips bucked, practically grinding against his mouth. He moaned against you, nuzzling his nose against your clit. "That's— ah, fuck— that's really good."

He smiled against your pussy, giving a few more slow, wet kisses before he sat up. In the dim light of the basement, you could see where his face was slick and shiny with your spit and juices. "Gonna stretch you out a little for me, okay?"

You nodded, propping yourself on your elbows to see him better. He pressed another sweet kiss to your clit before he eased his middle finger into you. If he hadn't already fully recovered from his first orgasm, just the feeling of your walls clenching around his finger would have done it for him.

It took a minute for him to learn your body. Where to touch, what spots inside made your legs shake. You took two fingers easily, squirming as he pressed his fingers against a sensitive, spongy spot. Your eyes rolled back and his head thumped against the arm of the sofa, which made him grin.

"Right there, huh?" He teased. He applied a little more pressure and felt you gush around his fingers. Yeah, right there. He wrapped his lips around your your sensitive clit and sucked until your thighs trembled on either side of him.

"Steve!" You gasped, back arching. Your voice was high and breathy, he'd never heard you so desperate before. He knew you were close— he could feel your walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers. "Oh, fuck. Jesus christ, like that— Just like that—"

When you finally came around his fingers and on his tongue, he had never heard such a perfect sound before. Soft, keening moans and pretty cries of his name. Your clit twitched against his tongue, and when your sweet moans finally turned into overstimulated whimpers, he relented.

You panted, chest heaving breathlessly as you came down from your high. You propped yourself up on your elbows and giggled as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Holy shit," you gasped.

He grinned, crawling up your body to plant a slow, sweet kiss on your lips. He could feel you smiling into the kiss, until his teeth knocked with yours and he had to pull back with a sheepish laugh. "Think you can give me another one?"

You raised a brow. "I can, but do you think you can?"

He laughed. Jesus, he'd been hard since he'd gotten his hands on your tits. "I definitely can."

Your gaze was on him as he stripped the rest of his clothes off— kicking his socks, jeans and briefs into a messy pile on the floor. For the first time in a long string of hookups, Steve Harrington felt self-conscious under your scrutiny.

"You're staring," he said weakly, feeling heat flood his cheeks. Usually, the second he was undressed he had a partner ready to jump his bones, but you just took in the sight of him.

"Only because you're really hot. You're forgetting that this is the culmination of every teenage fantasy I've ever had," you finally said, shifting to sit up. He hummed contentedly as you ran your hands up his chest then traced over his broad shoulders

"How did this next part go in those fantasies, huh?" He asked.

With a tiny grin, you pushed him back onto the couch, which creaked under his weight. "Well, usually," you began, straddling his hips. "They start like this."

Oh. Steve swallowed, peering up at you with wide eyes. Your hands splayed over his chest, fingers dimpling the muscle of his pecs. He groaned as you gave a slow rock of your hips, gliding your cunt along his length.

You were so wet and warm on top of him, and the precum dribbling from his tip only added to the sticky mess. All he could do was watch, totally slack-jawed as you ground your hips against his.

Well, he could also reach up and play with your tits. So he did. His heart thrummed at the soft and pretty sound that fell past your lips as he tugged and pinched your nipples.

You didn't wait any longer, not that he would have made you. There was something so sexy about the way you took control— taking his cock in your hand so you could line him up with your entrance and begin to slowly sink onto him. His hands quickly moved down to your hips, squeezing tight as you took inch after inch.

Jesus, you were taking it like a champ. With your head tossed back and your pussy clenching around his cock, he knew you really fucking loved it. He wanted you to love every bit of it.

"That's it," Steve goaded, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips. "Just a little more, honey. You've got it."

You moaned, lips parted as you sunk down. Warm, wet, tight until you were fully seated. A furrow formed between your brows as you stilled, accommodating to the size of him. "Fuck," you breathed, fingers tensing on his chest.

He wanted to squirm, to buck his hips deeper, to force you to finally move. But he could behave, he could let you have this. You gave a slow roll of your hips and he groaned, squeezing your hips tighter. "You doing okay?"

A cocky smile broke across your lips, and when you laughed he felt your walls squeeze around him. "I'm doing great," you said, punctuation your words with another slow grind. "I'm just trying to make sure you can last long enough to enjoy it."

His cheeks went hot with embarrassment and arousal, the smirk faded into mild offense. "Don't be cute. I'm fine."

"Yeah?" You began to move faster, your thighs colliding with his with each bounce onto him. You took him as deep as you could, then rose up until he was just about to slip out of you, only to slam back down. In, out, in, out, in, out. "Is this what you've been thinking about every time you jerked off?"

Had he thought of this? And then some. Steve had learned that he could be very creative when he needed to be. "Something like it," He managed, eyes squeezing shut as you gave a particularly sinful swivel of your hips.

He groaned, head falling back, neck bared as you rode him within an inch of his life. At least, that's what it felt like. Pretty moans and soft ah, ah, ahs slipped past your lips like his cock was punching them out of you. He moved his hands, grabbing your ass like he had any semblance of control over what you were doing to him.

Who the fuck taught you to ride dick like this? And should he thank them or murder them?

"Fuck, Steve," you panted. "Should've known you'd feel this good. No wonder you have a fucking harem around you."

He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about another girl ever again. In one steady motion, he had you pinned to the couch. From beneath him, he relished in the way your eyes went wide with surprise. He didn't just feel good, he was good. He wanted you to know how good he was for you, how good he could make you feel.

"You feel goddamn perfect," he groaned. As soon as the compliment passed his lips, he felt you squeeze around him, pussy fluttering as he drove into you again and again. "So wet and tight, so pretty. Can't believe I've wasted my time when you've been right here."

Steve moved his mouth to your throat, licking and sucking and biting at all of the soft skin there. He wanted to leave a mark. He wanted Andy to show up to Family Video the next day so he could beg for a second chance, only to see you'd already moved on.

But he couldn't focus too much on vindictive pettiness when you were so beautiful beneath him, with your eyes wide and full of so much want. Had he ever felt so wanted before? So needed? Your legs wrapped around him, heels digging in to drive him deeper.

His thrusts slowed, until he was buried deep inside of you and grinding nice and slow, rubbing against the soft, sensitive spots inside of you that made you drip around his cock.

It was then that he pulled back, meeting your gaze as he ground into you. Your eyes fluttered, rolling until he saw the whites of them. "Jesus Christ," you gasped. "Fuck, Steve, just like that. Feels s'good."

He grinned, preening at your praise. He propped himself up on one arm, then snaked the other between your bodies, so he could rub at your clit. The second his thumb rubbed over the slick bundle of nerves, your walls squeezed around him so tight he could hardly move.

You cried out prettily, nails cutting into the meat of his back. "Just a little more, yeah?" He cooed. He moved his thumb a little faster, feeling the way your clit twitched against the pressure.

"Fuck—" You gasped. "Steve, god, don't stop, please—"

He could feel that the band was going to snap. Your gasping breaths and whiny moans were as much of an indicator as the fluttery way your walls clamped down on him.

Steve wasn't much better off. He could sense his impending orgasm like the buzz of lightning about to strike. A tightly wound spring, a dam about to burst. But, god, he wanted to feel you cum first. "C'mon, I've got you, sweetheart. Just give it to me."

It was a goddamn miracle that you came when you did— crying out nice and pretty as you clenched around him like a vise. The sound of his name falling from your lips, with your body enveloping him like you were made to… it was everything he'd been craving for the past month. Probably longer, if he was honest with himself.

He barely managed to work you through your orgasm before it all became too much. He pulled out and spilled onto your tummy with a guttural moan.

"Fuck," he panted, collapsing onto you. He should have been disgusted about the warm slickness of his cum sandwiched between your bodies, but he was so sated that he couldn't bring himself to care. "Was it okay for you?"

Steve propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at you. God, you were pretty. You'd always been pretty, but right now you looked so perfect.

You bit your lip and nodded. "Yeah, it was great," you replied. "Really great, actually. I guess it was okay for you too, considering I'm glazed with your cum right now."

He laughed sheepishly and rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

The two of you dressed in comfortable silence, mopping yourselves clean of fluids and sweat with a few towels sitting on top of the washing machine… that promptly went right back in for another clean.

You hopped on top of the machine when it was running, peering over at where Steve stood. "Penny for your thoughts?" You asked. He glanced over and his heart thrummed. Even in shitty lounge wear with your hair pulled back in a banana clip, you looked like a supermodel.

"Just thinking about work tomorrow," he confessed. Your brows knit in confusion as you looked at him. Work? Now? "I don't know how we're going to share a shift without me going absolutely crazy and wanting to get my hands on you. Especially now that I know that I can."

You grinned, and Jesus, he wanted to just jump your bones again. "Well, it's just you and me on the schedule tomorrow," you reminded him. "Maybe we close at lunch so you can help me with restocks? Just to make sure your problem is completely solved. I don't want you relapsing."

He knew there wasn't a chance in hell that he'd ever have a problem getting hard again. Not with you around, looking like the finest goddamn thing to ever set foot in Hawkins, Indiana. "Might as well," he said. "Just to be sure."

You were beyond scared of getting one. You knew exactly why too, losing your virginity had not been nearly as fun as all your friends made it out to be, sex hurt. When you told your girlfriends this they looked at you a little funny and asked maybe he didn’t do it right, it wasn’t exactly supposed to be painful, not the whole time anyway. So you did a few experiments of your own, cause maybe they were right and the guy just i don’t know did it wrong?

You bought a toy, a not too big but average to smaller sized dildo, online as going in store was too much to handle. And one night when your college roommates were out, you tried using it but it hurt just the same, you even tired just using your fingers but that wasn’t much better. From then on for years, you avoided sex as much as you could. All subsequent boyfriends who managed to persuade you into it just told you it'd be “Much better with me trust me baby” and it never really was. 

When you bring it up to one of your friends again, they point something out that you had been trying to avoid thinking of. “Hey, isn't one of your dads friends a doctor or something? Why haven’t you asked him about it?” oh that guy. Yeah the one you are kinda a little too attracted to who’s not just your fathers friend but his best friend, who makes your brain short circuit each time he calls you sweetheart? That one. Yeah you’d rather not talk about how sex is painful to the older man, who is the closest person to your father. You just might have to though if you ever wanna actually enjoy sex in your life. 

When you see Jack a few days later for your dads weekly dinner night he hosts, you manage to pull him away telling your dad it’s private girly medical related questions, he shuts up shortly after that. 

“What's up kid you okay?” Jack asks, concern evident in his voice. You rarely asked him anything medical and he was a bit worried you’re about to ask him how long is it normal for a woman to go without getting her period. “How…” you squeak out. Oh god here it comes. Before you start again you clear your throat. “How um common is, you know pain during sex…” the word sex leaves your lips in a meek and quiet tone, Jack tries his best not to chuckle as to not embarrass you further, but he’s happy it's not the question he was expecting. “Pretty common kid, at least the first time” he explains calmly, his casual demeanor easing your anxiety only a bit. “And how about every time?”

The idea of you having sex multiple times shouldn't be making Jack's chest ache the way it is, you’re a young beautiful girl after all, he tries telling himself it’s only cause it’s apparently painful and he cares for you. This time he straightens up a bit, “if the guys aren’t being rough, it's less common, it shouldn’t be every time” he watches as your eyes go a little wide and shake your head no in response to the first half of his statement. “Have you had an exam lately kid?” This is a purely professional question so it shouldn’t feel as dirty as it does coming out of his mouth.

“I um normally cancel them” Jack can only sigh out in a bit of frustration. “You should really get them regularly sweetheart” he misses the way your thighs lightly squeeze together at the use of the nickname. “I’m scared s’ all, anything going um inside hurts and doctors offices only make me more nervous” you explain. He smooths a hand over your hair, sympathy lacing his voice. “it’s okay i don’t mean to make you feel bad about it kid i swear” “How-” he stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing as if he was debating something in his head. “What?” you prompt, trying your hardest to not buckle at the knees from the way he’s practically petting your head. Physical touch is a quite rare thing between you too minus a few hugs on birthdays or pats on the back. “How about I give you one?’ oh sweet jesus that sounds wrong. He clears his throat, his face a little flush now at his own words but he doesn’t backtrack. “I’m a doctor, that you know, so it’s less scary” “No appointment needed if that makes you more comfortable” as you are processing his words he continues on. “I could do it at your apartment, where ever you feel most comfortable”

Your throat shouldn't feel as dry as it does, but the idea of Jack examining your pussy makes your head spin and slick settle between your legs a little. Maybe you should just see a regular random doctor, not one you have a wildly inappropriate crush on. You leave him with a small “Thank you, I'll think about it” and run off with the excuse of using the bathroom. You leave before Jack that night without much of any goodbye to him, he tries not to dwell on it, he really hopes he didn’t upset you.

You however dwell for days on Jack’s suggestion. Without the underlying nerves you feel because of being attracted to him, it is a good idea. You’d feel far more comfortable, maybe too comfortable being examined by him rather than a doctor you hardly know. You don’t bring it up to anyone as you’re too embarrassed but you think about it for days. When you get a reminder for the last gyno appointment you were brave enough to make, you cancel it without another thought and text Jack. 

All he does is thumbs up your message but for the next few hours you are anxious as all hell while waiting for him to knock on your door. You had given yourself the time both to calm down but also clean your apartment. Even though he was literally coming over to give you a vaginal exam and wouldn't care what your place looked like, you wanted it to be neat. Even if this was going to be probably the weirdest event in your life to date.

You are startled out of your train of thought by a knock at the door, you glance at the clock — 3pm exactly. Damn older men and their punctuality or was it a doctor thing? Shaking your head you nervously make your way to open the door, greeting Jack with a little awkward wave. He chuckles softly, the sound calming you as you step back from the open door to invite him in. “It’ll be alright, i’ll be gentle kid” his voice runs over your skin leaving behind goosebumps. You don’t know what you’re more nervous over, the expected pain of the actual examination or, the idea of Jack's hands on you, his fingers in you. 

Without wasting much time Jack settled into a semi professional but still comforting balance as he puts down the small bag of stuff he needs on the floor of your living room. You appreciate his effectiveness, as he tells you to sit on your couch facing him. You listen and watch as he sits on top of your coffee table. “This will be a little awkward because we are here and not a hospital, so I don't have a few things sweetheart” he starts to explain. “The no gown won’t be too hard, you have a skirt on so if you could just take off your underwear i can have access without-” he paused a moment as if thinking “leaving you too indisposed” the way he snaps a pair of blue latex gloves on shouldn’t be making as wet as it is, fuck. 

“Can-” you stutter out, your face hot but he seems to pick up on what you’re asking, nodding softly he turns his head away to give you some semblance of privacy. Bunching up your skirt you hook your fingers into the waistband of your slightly soaked panties and pull them down your legs. You kick them under the coffee table so they’re out of sight and tap Jack on the shoulder, he shakes his head softly at your shyness before turning to face you again. 

“Put your feet up either side of me on the table, won’t be the same as stirrups but close enough” tugging at the end of your skirt to cover yourself a bit more you do as he says and place your feet up flat on the low table. He adjusts them slightly, grabbing your foot one at a time and slides them a bit so they are more half off not so far back. “Scooh more to the edge of the couch kid, lean back ‘n tilt your hips up a lil more f’ me” the way you listen so well to Jack has him smiling softly at you and muttering out a small “Atta girl” 

He pressed lightly around on your abdomen through your shirt and skirt, eyes glued to your face gauging your reactions. “No pain or tenderness when I do this, right?” when you shake your head no he stops. “My hand is gonna go under your skirt for a second okay?” your face grows hotter and you nod, your voice has yet to find you again but so far nods are an effective enough communication with him. He reaches down between your legs but only presses around again, this time he is much closer to your pussy but he remains on the outside, pressing over the mound of it and on your pubic bone. “No pain?” Once again your head shakes side to side. His hand pulls away, your eyes follow his movements as he reaches down to grab a small bottle out of his bag.

He holds it but doesn’t do anything with it yet, his eyes find yours again “This next part i have to put my fingers inside, that okay sweetheart?” you gulp softly, nodding yes slowly as your nervousness grows again. “That’s the part that us- usually hurts” you explain in a small voice. It’s Jack's turn to nod now, "Penetration?” you let out a ‘mhm’ in agreeance as he squeezes the clear substance onto his pointer finger. “This is lube to make it easier and I’ll go slow, only one finger” his other hand reaches around your leg to touch the back of your calf, rubbing soothing lines up and down the muscle. “If you’re relaxed it might not be as painful” he explains, waiting on your go ahead before reaching down under your skirt once again. 

Pushing his lube coated index finger through your folds the tip of it finds your entrance, he gauges your face, when you nod again he proceeds by pushing it inside. 

Your sharp intake of air makes him stop once only the first bend of his finger is inside. “Come on, relax f’ me sweetheart” his low honey dipped voice makes your body go a bit lax, he inches his finger forward again and when you show no sign of pain he goes all the way til it's completely inside. “How’s that kid?” he sounds as breathless as you feel but you try to ignore it. “A little pain” you squeak out. “Give it a second, relax and it might go away”

“Don’t know how to relax more” you whine out, the sound going straight down Jack’s spine and up again, he shivers a bit and wills it away before it travels further south. “I’m gonna try something…do you trust me sweetheart?” you’re already nodding again in response before he fully finishes his question. 

Bringing his thumb up he parts the lips of your pussy til it finds your clit. You gasp out and slightly scare him, “That hurt?” “No no m’ sorry surprised me is all” you mumble out, biting your lip to hold in any more noises from getting free, like an accidental moan. Jesus christ why did you think this was a good idea again? If you had to bet you’d say you were soaking his gloved finger, even with the sting you felt from it inside, it felt good at the same time. You never even reached this type of feeling with your own fingers.

His thumb on your clit presses down lightly and starts rubbing in circles, you let out a small little sigh that makes Jack smirk a bit. “There you go honey, come on” “Un-tense your shoulders” your body listens almost instantaneously “Good girl” you can’t help the whimper that comes out at his words, he doesn’t say anything in response. “Feel any better?” he prompts, his eyes remain on your face, no matter how bad he wants to peek under your skirt to watch the way your little bud twitches under his touch. “Mhmm a bit” you answer softly, trying to push away the odd feeling bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. 

“Can I put in another finger, we’ll see how that feels?” he whispers, he definitely has enough information that he thinks he knows what’s wrong already but you don’t need to know that. “Yeah” you pant out, shaking your head a little too eagerly, if Jack notices he doesn’t say a word. With ease his middle slips in alongside his pointer, his thumb still circling your clit. “No pain honey?” the motion of your head once again answers his question. “Wanna try something else…can I move my fingers sweetheart?” 

“Please” you plead, head to fuzzy to care how desperate you sound. Slowly pulling his fingers back he watches your face as he pistons them back in, repeating the motion. “That feel good?” “Mhm no pain, fuck! feels really good” you whine out, your hips now bucking up against his fingers. He speeds up, still waiting to see if it hurts or if you stop him. “Jack” you moan out, his cock throbs in response. 

“Yeah kid?” “Need- Mm” you cut yourself off, pinching your lips in a line and tilting your head back. “Nuh-uh come on honey, tell me what ya’ need” he prompts, curling his fingers up to hit a different spot inside you that has you letting out a pornographic noise you didn’t know you were even capable of. “Need-” you huff out, before he stops you “Look at me when you say it, come on kid” “Use your words”

Lifting your head you look into Jack’s eyes, his breath hitches at the sight of your glazed over lust filled eyes, batting your eyelashes you start again. “Need more” you sob. His stomach just about hurts now from how hard he is in his jeans that feels all too tight. “Yeah? What more honey? Another finger or something else?” he asks, consciences be damned he’s not gonna leave you hanging even if your old man would fucking kill him if he ever found out about this. “Somethin’ else please” you whine, not even knowing what more you want. Jack however seems to when he takes his free hand off your calf and lifts your skirt, his head ducking under it. His fingers don’t stop positioning in and out of your slick cunt even if you squeal a bit at his motion. The noise morphes into a moan, your body melting into the couch when his warm tongue pokes out and makes contact with your pussy, licking at your pussy. “Still feel good kid?” he mumbles out, before his thumb leaves your bundle of nerves only to be replaced by his mouth as he sucks at it. 

“Yeah- Yeah feels s’ good” you breathe out, letting go of your skirt, he grabs at your one leg, lifting your foot off the table placing it over his shoulder, prompting you to do the same with your other before his fingers slip out of your pussy. 

You whine at the loss, “Jackkk” making him chuckle softly against you. “Hang on sweetheart” he coos as he uses both hands to grab at your hips, pulling you up and half way off the couch to get you closer to his mouth, lapping at you hard splitting your folds with his pointed tongue before sucking at your clit. “Ah- Ahhh ooh fuck” you wail out, your hands frantic to steady yourself. One finding purchase on his shoulder before sliding down his back under his shirt where your nails scratch at his skin. The other holding on for dear life to the edge of your couch cushion, your legs tighten a bit around his head. 

“Holy shit” you whisper out in breathless disbelief, the odd feeling from before coming back to quickly build in the pit of your stomach. Jack's large hands cupping your waist squeeze at your flesh, as he shakes his head side to side a little, flattening his tongue against you. Your thighs burn a bit at the friction of his stubbly face rubbing against them. He moves back to harshly sucking at your clit, your pussy and his mouth coated in his spit as he practically slurps at your juices.

“Huu- shit” “Wait wait! Jack- mhm feels like m’ gonna pee” you try pushing at his head to stop him, even if you desperately didn’t want his mouth off you. That feeling in your stomach was teetering on the edge. “Ya’ don’t have to pee sweetheart, that’s a orgasm you feel” he grumbles out, the explain making your hand ease up from pushing instead it rakes through his curls “S’ okay cum for me kid” 

“Promse s’ okay” you whine out, staring down at his head between your legs. “Yeah, you can do it” “cum f’ me it’s okay honey” "Promise it’ll feel good, no pain” his reassure is all you need to let your high wash over you, legs shaking on his shoulders, “There we go, fuck” he moans out. Your back arching as you cum on his tongue with a loud wanton moan filling your apartment coupled with his praise, “Atta girl, sweetheart” “Such a good girl f’ me” he laps at your cum. “Taste so fucking sweet, like i knew ya’ would” he mumbles out, that one you think was meant more for himself.  

Managing to reluctantly pull his head from between your soft thighs, Jack used his hold on your hips to place your body back onto the couch. You stare at him wide eyed when you notice his face all wet, covered in you. “Got somethin’ on my face kid?” you nod meekly. He chuckles and pinches at the collar of his shirt to bring it up and wipe at his mouth. “No pain after?” he asks. “No, never done that before” you whisper out, flicking your head down to where your skirt now covered your puffy but satisfied pussy. 

“Just needed an older man huh sweetheart, help ya’ relax a little and the pain melts away” he states, reaching down to rub at your knee. “Fucking little boys” he tsks but your eyes are glued to the large bulge in between his thick thighs. You’d have to be extra relaxed to take that monster on…

There's also warmth coming from a weight across your waist, heavy and grounding and solid, an arm thrown over you like it fell there sometime the night before and just decided to stay there. Your cheek is smushed up against soft curls that smell like cedarwood, antiseptic and something so distinctly him it's mind-numbing. If Robby found out that Dr Jack Abbot falls asleep with his head tucked into your neck and his leg folded across yours, you'd be screwed. That's why you keep it just your little secret. And maybe giggle about it with Victoria and Trinity when you've had just a little too much during girls' night.

You blink slowly awake, well rested and giddy to see the sunlight cutting in through the blinds after a solid week of heavy rainfall across Pittsburgh. Not that you've seen much of the outside, having been stuck inside of the ER for a grilling 6 days. Remembering where you are, under navy, soft cotton bedsheets, you look down at your sleeping boyfriend and his stupidly-cute, stupidly-open lips as light snores roll past and reverberate off of your neck. You rarely get to see Jack like this - completely vulnerable and soft and boyish - light freckles adorned across his forehead and soft lines beside his eyes remind you that he is fully human. Who is actually drooling all over you, by the way.

You shift slightly, testing the grip around you to see how much you can move, and the hold around your waist tightens automatically, a splayed hand moving across your stomach that's adorned in one of his old college t-shirts that frankly has seen better days, but you insist you wear anyways. You panic for a second, thinking you've woken him so your body goes rigid. You sigh in relief when you look down at him again and see him exactly in the same place as before. He must be exhausted. It's been one of those weeks.

For someone who claims he doesn't cuddle, he's treating you like a pregnancy pillow right now.

Your free arm reaches for your phone on the nightstand beside you, because of course you're thinking about your for you page. You swipe open the screen and see that you've got a snapchat video message from Shen, which you decide you'll leave opening till later, as it's most likely a review of a new coffee place he uber eats'd to the PTMC at 3am last night. Plus, you like to annoy Jack with stories of his residents' favourite syrup of the week.

You open the TikTok app, keeping your volume at the lowest setting, and scroll through a couple of videos. You're keeping an eye on the man that's basically on top of you to make sure he's not waking up. The one thing Jack hates more than iced vanilla lattes is interrupted sleep. Your about to scroll to the next video, when Victoria's face fills the screen immediately - Dr.J, explaining "Five Tips for your First Year Residency", in that bright, cheery voice that you're used to discussing charting struggles and Mateo-isms with.

But the second she says, "Number one-stop calling every mild tachycardia a crisis-"

Jack groans. His eyes are still closed.

"You're kidding," he mutters into your shoulder.

You grin. "You're awake."

"I was sleeping."

"You were snoring."

"I don't snore." You snort.

Victoria continues, "..if your attending looks tired, maybe consider they've been here 12 hours longer than you have-"

"Right on," he says, leaving a lazy kiss on the side of your neck that makes a shiver run up your spine.

Victoria's voice is long forgotten as you move your head to rest against Jack's soft curls on the top of his head, which he more than likely needs a haircut for. You'll remind him of that after you keep him in bed for as long as you can.

You have a few seconds of comfortable silence, afraid to say anything in the hopes of letting this moment go on forever. You're rudely interrupted by the Snapchat notification noise that rings through the room and you wince. As quick as the noise goes off, Jack has rolled onto his back, bringing you with him as a high pitched yelp comes out of your mouth.

"Sweetheart, I swear if another sound comes out of your phone I'm going to lock it in a box for a week."

You blink up at him, still half-laughing from the yelp you let out when he flipped you over.

"Violence?" you gasp dramatically. "Over a little text?"

His arms tighten around you then, pinning you more firmly as he takes your phone and throws it somewhere down the end of the bed. You think this may be an inappropriate time to comment on how his biceps look ridicously biteable right now.

"I was this close,", he says, holding his fingers barely apart, "to going back to sleep"

"You were awake the whole time?"

"I was drifiting"

"You were drooling"

He lifts himself off the bed then, moving to settle over you with those stupidly obnoxious veins in his arms bracketing you inbetween them. His expression is somewhere between grumpy and dangerously focused. You can't help but notice the sunlight cutting across his defined shoulders, or the mess of his hair from having your fingers in it all night.

You swallow.

"Okay, Jacko, I know you have this whole brooding, mysterious energy going on all the time, but this is entirely too intense for 9am"

He laughs through his nose and drops his head down to your shoulder, groaning, "Sweetheart, it is not 9am for me".

His voice vibrates warm against your skin, and you hate (love) how easily that makes your stomach flip.

"For normal people, it is," you counter, fingers instinctively moving to rest at the back of his head.

He lifts his head to look at you properly now. He looks unfairly too good and too put together for someone who just woke up. You try very hard not to stare. You fail, obviously.

His mouth tilts at the corner when he catches you doing it, that faint, almost-smirk he pretends isn't a smirk at all. The sunlight hits the line of his jaw just right, catches on the faint scar near his temple, outlines the shape of him in a way that makes you feel entirely unworthy of him.

"Stop that," he quips.

"Stop what?"

"That look."

"What look?!"

"The one where you're thinking something you shouldn't be"

You grin up at him, and notice how his eyes grow softer. You heart skips like 20 beats.

"I'm thinking extremely respectable thoughts, Dr Abbot"

"Liar"

His voice is rough with sleep and you feel it everywhere. He moves his weight just enough that you're aware of him in a way that takes your breath away and makes you feel like you've been given a double dose of epi all at once.

"You antagonise me first thing in the morning," he says quietly, studying your face. "Then you stare."

"I can't appreciate my boyfriend?"

"You can. Silently, preferably."

You hit him across the shoulder at that and he laughs, a carefree, easy laugh that shakes his shoulders and reminds you that he's still soft around the edges. He takes another exhale through his nose, but this time his hand slides from the mattress to your wait, setting it there. His thumb presses into the soft cotton of the tshirt you've stolen from him. A reminder that you're real, you're here, you're not a hallucination his brain cooked up after too many code blues.

He leans down, slower this time, his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that isn't rushed or teasing. It's warm, sleep-heavy, certain. His hand tightens again and you think you might have a bruise there from all the times his hands go back to that same spot.

"You didn't wake up once last night, you know" you whisper when you part, half-lidded eyes looking through long eyelashes right up at him. Jack thinks he might still be asleep. Dreaming.

"It's easier."

"What's easier?"

"To sleep, when you're here."

And there it is. You could cry at the admission. You almost feel your eyes welling up at the thought. Sometimes, it can be hard reading him. Like, when Dana tells you he's gone up to the roof again to take a break, but you know it's because he's beating himself up about something. He protects you from it. That dark side of him that you know listens to police scanners in hope of a distraction and finds comfort in wearing a SWAT medic vest every other week.

But here he is, above you, looking through you like he can see everything and beyond that. Admitting to you that you make it easier. You wish you could tell him that that's all you want to be.

Not a distraction, or a light to balance the dark, or something that fixes him. You just want to be a place he can rest.

"You know, I coud make it a habit. Sleeping here, I mean. Wouldn't want you losing some well needed z's"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean-if, if that's something you'd want. Like, I don't want to overstep or make you feel pressured or like I'm slowly invading you space with my skincare products and emotional support water bottle or-"

He cuts you off by kissing you. Mouth crashing against yours in a desperate, searing kiss that knocks the breath straight out of your lungs. Firm, and certain and all too quick. And when he pulls back his forehead rests against yours again.

"You know, you left your conditioner in my shower three months ago."

You blink.

"That was strategic"

"I know"

"And you didn't say anything."

"Why would I?"

You hestitate. "Because..it's your place?"

He reaches up to hold your cheek in his too big hands, thumb hooking lightly under your eye to rub away a loose eyelash thats gotten stuck there.

"You think this is just my place?" he asks.

You falter a little at that.

"I don't want to assume," you admit, softer now. "You like your space. Your routine. Your...weird old man night-shift cave"

His mouth twitches faintly in an almost smirk.

"I think it stopped being just my space the second you left that damn polka dot scrunchie on the gear stick in my truck."

You let out a small, embarassed laugh. "Okay, that was actually not intentional."

He moves then, rolling just enough so you're both at a more comfortably aligned angle on the mattress, an arm firmly around you.

"If you want to sleep here," he continues, "sleep here"

Your chest tightens, and you can't believe what you're hearing. How normal this all is.

He presses a slow kiss to your temple, then your forehead, then back to your mouth, softer each time. Like a punctuation, telling you that he wants this, wants you, wants all the weird stickers you have on your diary and the little monkey keychain that swings off your bag.

"This is all very emotionally open of you, Dr Abbot."

"Don't ruin it, kid."

You smile and tuck yourself closer against him, your leg sliding comfortably over his like it's muscle memory now. He adjusts automatically, hand settling at you hip, chin resting against the top of your head.

“Yes, seriously. He’s just had his first school dance! It’s important that we celebrate,” you bickered.

“Unless you don’t want me interrupting your date,” Dustin muttered sassily. Both of you glared at him and he just snickered, watching as Steve drove past his house towards the 24 hour diner.

He’d noticed over the last month how close the two of you had grown. 9 times out of 10 you’d be sitting in the passenger seat when Steve pulled up to give him a ride somewhere, he was certain you were wearing Steve’s sweatshirt right now and he’s noticed the lovesick look Steve gets every time you laugh at one of his unfunny jokes. He’s just waiting for the two of you to admit it; whether that’s to him or to yourselves.

Steve parked up outside and let Dustin out, waiting patiently for you to join them before making any move towards the diner. Your hair was damp, freshly washed, it hadn’t been like that earlier when you and Steve had dropped him off at the dance. You’d also changed into sweats. Dustin was getting more suspicious by the minute.

“You want chocolate?” Steve asked him as you all slid into a booth, Steve choosing to sit beside you.

“Yeah,” Dustin nodded. “And pancakes.”

“It’s night time,” Steve responded. “Pancakes are for breakfast.”

“Just get the boy some pancakes,” you laughed, looking at him. He jokingly gave you a side eye.

“Fine, one chocolate, one vanilla, one strawberry and pancakes. Coming right up.” Steve slid out the booth and moved over to the counter to order. Dustin just raised an eyebrow; maybe it could be friendly to remember your order, maybe you’d already mentioned it, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been out to eat with you guys and Steve just automatically knew what you wanted.

After ordering, Steve came back and sat next to you. The two of you talked to Dustin about the dance, he informed you of Max and Lucas’ kiss and Steve had to give you five dollars since he didn’t think they’d have the guts. You were all halfway through your milkshakes — and Dustin had already eaten all his pancakes — when you made a move that had Dustin’s jaw dropping.

You reached over casually and pushed some of Steve’s hair from his forehead, he didn’t even flinch. There had been one time that Dustin tried to touch Steve’s hair and he learnt his lesson almost immediately by the way his hand had been slapped.

“No one touches my hair!” Steve had exclaimed, staring at Dustin like he’d just burnt him.

You and Steve both looked up, finding Dustin staring at you in shock. “What’s wrong? Brain freeze?” You asked.

“I told you to slow down,” Steve lectured.

“You— she just touched your hair!” Dustin exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. The few other people in the diner looked your way.

“Jesus, inside voices,” Steve hissed. “So what? Why are you so shocked by that?”

“You don’t let people touch your hair!” Dustin explained, a little calmer this time.

“No, I don’t let kids with sticky hands touch my hair,” Steve corrected. “She keeps herself clean.”

“I don’t have sticky hands,” Dustin bickered. You giggled, trying to hide it as you took another sip of your milkshake. “That’s not fair. You’re playing favouritism.”

“Why do you want to touch his hair so badly?” You teased.

“I don’t!” Dustin argued. “It’s just the principle.”

“If you want to touch his hair just touch it,” you carried on joking.

“Absolutely not,” Steve interrupted.

“See!”

When Dustin was home and in bed he was still thinking of the fact Steve had let you touch his hair; his prized possession. He knew there was something else going on, he was just waiting for you guys to confess.

El

Hopper didn’t like leaving El home alone. Even though you all now knew about her, and soon she’d be able to go out alone without the fear of the government working out who she is… he still doesn’t like it. He has to work, and in the day he’s not as bothered, but tonight he was working late and Joyce was doing the same so she wasn’t an option.

The second he called you you were already saying yes. You adored El, you had no problem hanging out with her. The only issue was a certain Steve Harrington who didn’t like the idea of you driving home late at night; which led to him joining you in your babysitting duties.

“You’ve seriously never had spaghetti bolognaise? Seriously?” Steve was in shock when El had told the two of you that she hadn’t yet tried Steve’s favourite food.

“No,” she shrugged, looking at him like he was crazy for caring so much.

“He’s a bit of a food fanatic,” you explained.

“A… what?”

“He loves food.”

“I do love food, and you are also going to love food once you’ve tasted this!” Steve exclaimed. He’d bought all the ingredients with him, luckily since Hopper didn’t have much other than microwave meals in the cabin. And eggos, of course.

You managed to have five minutes peace before Steve was forcing you up to help him. He was only making you stir the sauce, but you still complained.

“You’re the chef here, Harrington. I’m enjoying the movie,” you bickered, standing in the tiny kitchen.

“Do you want a nice meal or not?” He retaliated. “I don’t have the time to do everything myself. And I want El to like it.”

A fond smile played on your lips, he may like to pretend he doesn’t care about these kids but it’s obvious to you that he very clearly does. Just the fact he cares about her enjoying dinner says enough.

“Okay, I’ll stir the sauce,” you replied. “But, if it doesn’t taste as good as it usually does then that’s no one’s problem but your own.”

A couple minutes later he came up behind you, hand resting on your waist as he looked down at the sauce. You didn’t think anything of it… El on the other hand, was watching you two with narrowed eyes.

Dustin had said something about you two the last time she saw him, everyone had told him he was crazy but now she was starting to get it. With all the time she’d spent in the cabin she’d watched a lot of movies, and there was a big difference between people that were friends and people that were more.

Steve had been looking at you the way that they do in the movies all night long, it’s the same way she’s noticed Hopper looks at Joyce; she brought it up once and he turned as red as a tomato and sent her to her room. You looked at him in the exact same way, cheeks flushing every time you caught him staring.

She wasn’t as upfront as Dustin, she didn’t say anything about it; at least not until you were sitting beside her bed helping her do some reading before she went to sleep.

“Is Steve your boyfriend?” She asked, interrupting the line you were halfway through.

You stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

“You guys act like a couple,” she shrugged. “You even wiped spaghetti from his face.”

“That’s because he eats like a child,” you laughed, cheeks not as red as Hopper’s had gotten but still a little pink. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… friends.”

“Dustin said he’s your boyfriend.”

“Dustin needs his head checked.”

It was later that night when she crept out of her room to get some water that she found the two of you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. She just smiled to herself; she'd let the two of you work it out for yourselves.

Will

Once upon a time Steve wasn’t sure there would be anyone at his graduation. Maybe his parents, although probably not, at one point he assumed Nancy would be there but once they broke up he changed his mind on that. He’d told you one night that he was embarrassed that no one would be there, you told him he was ridiculous if he thought you wouldn’t be there.

Turns out, it wasn’t just you. He noticed you instantly in the stands, you and a gaggle of children. He was beaming the entire ceremony, his cheeks flushed when he heard you all cheering after his name was called. He’d never felt so happy.

Will was standing to your left, he was still a little weird with crowds but he’d wanted to come to show support for Steve. And all of his friends were gonna be there. You seemed even more scared of losing him than he was of getting lost; that calmed him down plenty. You were in the middle of lecturing Lucas and Mike over swearing when someone tapped your shoulder. Will’s eyes followed every movement, no one else seemed to even notice the interruption as the others all went back to bickering.

“Blake, hi,” you greeted. The boy, whoever he was, grinned at you as he pulled you in for a hug.

“What’re you doing here?” He, Blake, questioned. “With… a load of kids.”

“Oh, uh, we’re here for Steve. We babysit them.” It was an easier explanation than ‘we fought monsters together and now have a trauma bond’.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Harrington. My brother played basketball with him,” Blake said.

“Yeah.” You awkwardly smiled at him, unsure what to say.

“It’s been awhile since we hung out, maybe we could—” the words died on the tip of his tongue as Steve finally appeared, arm wrapping around your waist. Will had been so tuned in on the conversation that he hadn’t even noticed Steve coming over.

“You didn’t mention you’d be bringing all of our children.” It was obviously a joke, it made you laugh. Will’s eyebrows furrowed; there was a tone in Steve’s voice. Like he was trying to hint at something to this stranger who had stepped far too close to you.

“Harrington, congrats on graduating,” Blake said, nodding awkwardly at him.

“Thanks,” he muttered, hardly giving him a second look. He turned back to you. “You want to get out of here? Take the dipshits out for food or something?”

“You don’t want to stay for a bit?” You asked softly.

“Absolutely not,” he snorted, arm staying put around your waist as he started to gather up all the teens.

Will stayed watching, you didn’t even notice as Blake walked away but Steve certainly did. His eyes watched him leave, and Will watched Steve. If jealousy was a disease Steve Harrington would’ve just dropped dead.

Max

Max likes the mall a lot. When she first moved to Hawkins, the only place she thought was cool enough to hang out in was the arcade. But now, there was a whole building full of different things to do. It helped that one of her ‘babysitters’ had a job at an ice cream shop and couldn’t help himself but to give it to her for free.

Today, her and Lucas were supposed to be going together but he’d ended up stuck babysitting Erica for a while so she decided to wait for him in Scoops Ahoy. She noticed you almost instantly, which was weird. You were usually here, hanging around Steve, but you would either be sat on the wrong side of the counter next to him or in the back during his breaks. Today, you were sat at a table stirring your icecream around with your spoon.

“Hey,” Max greeted, sitting down beside you. She hadn’t failed to notice the glum look on your face.

“Hi,” you replied. “No Lucas?”

“He’s running late. Thought I’d get some free icecream. Why are you sat on your own?” She asked, getting straight to the point.

You shrugged, eyes flickering over to the counter that Steve stood behind. But he wasn’t alone. His new coworker, Robin, was next to him and they were laughing together. “Have you met Robin?”

“Yeah,” Max replied slowly.

“She’s in my grade at school, but we’ve never really talked.” Max was a little confused why you were going on about Robin, but she let you continue. “Steve keeps talking about her.”

“Saying what?” She was starting to catch on now. Your skin was turning green with envy.

“I don’t know, random things,” you muttered. “They seem to have gotten closer over the last week or so. I was hanging with El on Monday so I couldn’t come here, then suddenly on Tuesday they’re the best of friends.” Max liked that you said hanging with rather than babysitting when you talked about them. Like you really were their friend.

“And you’re mad about that?” Max questioned.

“What? No! I’m not… I’m not mad. Just confused,” you argued. “It’s stupid, never mind.”

You were jealous as hell. Max couldn’t help but smirk. El had told her about you and Steve being cuddled up on the couch, all of the kids were pretty much conspiring for you to just get together already. This was something new for her to share with them, although she wasn’t sure if she would. You seemed actually upset and that wasn’t what she wanted.

“I’m gonna get some icecream,” she announced, standing up and pretty much storming over to the counter.

“You’re running my pockets dry,” Steve stated, turning his body to face her rather than Robin. Max’s eyes narrowed at him. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered. “Strawberry. Sprinkles.”

“Why am I an idiot?” Steve exclaimed as Robin started laughing beside him.

“Your girlfriend is sad.”

For the first time ever, Steve didn’t correct the use of girlfriend. He instantly looked over at you, concerned. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“So you admit she’s your girlfriend?” Robin chimed in, grinning. Max looked at her in surprise. She was ready to hate the girl for coming in between the two of you, but it looked like she was in the same boat as the rest of them.

Waiting for the two of you to man up and confess.

“No! Stay out of this.” He turned back to Max. “Why is she upset? Did I put the wrong sauce on her icecream?”

“No, asshole. She’s sat all alone!” Max argued.

“I’ve already begged her to sit with me,” Steve grumbled, before walking around the counter and over to you. Max watched as he sat beside you, and within hardly a minute you were giggling.

She looked back to Robin. “Strawberry, please.”

“Anything for someone who’s also trying to get the two of them together,” Robin grinned, starting to make Max’s icecream.

“So, you’re not trying it on with Steve?” Max asked cautiously.

Robin physically grimaced. “No! Definitely not. He’s… not my type. And besides, look at them. They’re head over heels in love.” Max followed her eye line. Steve was now looking at you with the puppy dog eyes and you fed him a spoonful of your treat.

“Yeah, they are.”

Lucas

It felt like Lucas was losing his mind. Him and Max had broken up four times now, and usually she’d forgive him the next day but this time she just wouldn’t budge. He’d shown up at her house, with no flowers because he didn’t bring enough money to the store but he had chocolate! She threw it at him and slammed the door. He needed reinforcements, and his friends weren’t the right people for that.

“Sinclair,” Steve greeted, opening the front door. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” Lucas admitted. Him and Steve weren’t that close. He thought Steve was awesome, and they got along, but they’d never hung out alone unless you count him being the last one to get dropped off home.

“Please tell me you haven’t trapped a demogorgon in your bunker. I can’t do that again,” Steve sighed.

Lucas laughed. “I’m not Dustin.”

“In that case, come on in.”

The younger boy sat down on the couch as Steve grabbed them some sodas and chips; he seemed to have the fridge fully stocked at all times now just in case. “Thanks,” Lucas murmured.

“No problem. So, what’s up?” Steve asked, sitting down beside him.

“Max and me broke up. Again. But this time she won’t get back together with me,” Lucas pouted. Steve stifled a laugh. The two of them were young, but it was clear they really liked each other. Sometimes they were just a bit dramatic.

“What was it this time?” Steve questioned.

Lucas explained to him that they’d had a fight because he’d forgotten they had plans and instead hung out with Mike, Max had called him an asshat and refused to talk to him since. “I just need some advice… I guess. On how to make up after a fight.”

“Well, I actually did something similar with Y/N a few weeks ago,” Steve admitted, catching Lucas’ attention. He thought maybe Steve would talk about Nancy, or one of his other failed relationships. Not you. “I was meant to pick her up from work but Dustin had gone into a frenzy about god knows what and I got distracted and forgot.”

“Was she mad?” Lucas asked.

“She doesn’t really get mad, but she was upset. So, to make it up to her, I showed up when I wasn’t supposed to pick her up to make up for that part. Then, I took her to the movies and paid for the popcorn and when I was driving her home I apologised. A genuine apology can go a long way, Sinclair,” Steve explained.

“What did you say?” Lucas didn’t necessarily need help with that part, he really liked Max, he could come up with his own apology. He was just curious.

“Told her I’m an ass but I love her and she’s important to me and it won’t happen again,” Steve shrugged.

“Love?” Lucas exclaimed.

“Not like that!” Steve argued, cheeks turning pink. “Platonically, Sinclair. I love her platonically.”

“Sure, Steve.”

When he and Max made up he was sure to tell her that Steve loved you.

+1 the party

“Dude, this feels wrong,” Mike said from beside Dustin, who was in the middle of searching under rocks for the spare key to Steve’s house.

“It’s not! He told me I can use it, I just have to find it. He gets all freaked and moves it around every week,” Dustin grumbled.

“I’m pretty sure that was in case of emergencies, not because he wasn’t answering the phone and we wanted to use his pool,” Will mumbled.

“Shut up, Byers. I want to swim,” Max bickered.

Dustin grinned, standing up with something shiny in his hand. He unlocked the door and the gaggle of children went wandering into his house. One by one they stopped, because Dustin had frozen in place in the entryway to the living room.

“Oh my God!” He screeched. In front of him, was you and Steve making out on his couch. He was laying over you, your leg thrown around his waist. He slowly pulled back and the two of you stared at the kids.

“How did you get into my house?” Steve asked with a sigh. You guys didn’t seem embarrassed, more so annoyed that they’d interrupted.

“The key! Why are you guys kissing?” Dustin cried out. He’d been waiting a long time for you guys to get together, they all had, but now he’d really seen it he felt a bit nauseous.

Steve sat up fully, rubbing the back of his neck as the two of you looked from each other to them. “Well… we’re kinda dating.”

“You are?” Max gasped, grinning.

“Yes, we are. And you guys weren’t supposed to find out yet,” you pouted.

“Why not? We’ve been your biggest advocates!” Dustin bickered.

“It’s… new. Not something we wanted you all to know,” Steve grumbled. “What’re you doing here, anyways?”

“Going swimming,” El answered.

“We called,” Lucas added.

“Yeah. I ignored your calls,” Steve sighed. “Fine. Go swimming."

“Uh… we don’t want to do that anymore. We want answers to how you finally got together,” Max argued, sitting herself down on the other couch as everyone else followed.

“Seriously?” Steve deadpanned.

“Yes,” they all responded.

You shared a look with your boyfriend, a tiny smile playing on your lips. You hadn’t wanted them to know yet, but the fact they seemed so ecstatic that the two of you were dating was pretty sweet.

“Fine,” Steve mumbled, after seeing the smile on your face.

a month has gone by since you've moved to pittsburgh. it's nothing like the small town in oregon you grew up in, but you're grateful that robby was kind enough to offer you a room free of charge. he took a whole week off during your first week back so that he could show you around town. even taking you to his place of work so he could introduce you to everyone on his crew.

most of them were shocked to discover that robby had a daughter, all except dana, who already knew of you and your existence. and you had to explain that long story about robby technically being your godfather, but it's easier to just say he's your dad. besides, it wasn't like your actual dad was always the most stable figure in your life.

speaking of him, he calls you one night as you begin plating the table for you and robby. he starts spouting the same bullshit about you being such a terrible daughter for leaving him and oregon behind to pursue a career that'll never take off. you just let him talk, not really caring anymore to defend yourself. already knowing that it'll go nowhere and only escalate the argument. just as you finish setting up is when robby comes home, discarding his shoes and jacket, dropping his backpack beside the front door.

the volume of your dad's voice is so loud over the phone that you have to hold it away from your ear, making robby tilt a brow in confusion. 'your dad?' he mouths, which you nod. "listen, i gotta go and make dinner. goodnight," you say, ignoring the flew of curse words he spills as you hang up.

"what lovely things did he have to say to you tonight?" robby questions, wasting no time to dig into the spaghetti you made. "oh, you know, how much he hates me for leaving. how he thinks my acting career will go nowhere. and how disappointed mom would be in me if she was still here. so the usual," you reply, harshly stabbing at the salad you made as a side. he lets out a soft huff, shaking his head. "that's not true, you know. your mother would be very proud to see the woman you've become," he assures softly. "yeah, i know that. you would think he'd know that."

"how's the job hunting going?" robby questions, changing the topic. "there were a few listings for some roles that seem interesting. but in the meantime i got an interview tomorrow for a local record store down the street."

"that's good, bug. you've been so stuck in the house this past month. i'm glad you're getting out. speaking of getting out, though, one of my friends from work is throwing a fourth of july barbecue this weekend with some of his old army buddies."

"and you're thinking of going?" you ask with a chuckle. "wow, i never thought i'd see the day when michael robinavitch would willingly take a day off."

"haha, very funny," robby replies sarcastically. "with al-hashimi around, i don't feel as conflicted taking days off. but just for that, you're coming along with me."

"are you serious? what am i supposed to do around a bunch of old guys drinking and sharing their war stories?"

robby shrugs. "gets you out of the house. besides, one of them is bound to have a son around your age. maybe you can get yourself a boyfriend."

"i think i'm okay with no boyfriend for a while." he stares at you with a look combined of pity and understanding. he knows why you've come to the decision of steering clear of men. mainly due to the fact that your now ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you with your now ex-best friend for more than half the time you two had been together. so, you know, not the best relationship ever.

"alright, well, just think about coming with me, okay? jack is a good friend of mine. nice, too. i think the two of you would get along."

"i'll think about it," you promise. "that's all i ask, bug. now you go ahead and get ready for bed. i'll clean up." you nod, handing over your empty plate to him. "night, dad."

"night, bug. love you," he says, pulling you into a side hug and kissing the crown of your head. "love you too."

saturday comes by a lot sooner than expected. robby parks the car on the edge of the curb, just near the driveway. he looks over at you before exiting the car. "just try and have a good time, yeah? if it gets too boring, there's a balcony on the second floor that you can hang out on. i'm sure jack won't mind." you give him a small smile. "don't worry me about me, dad. just focus on enjoying your night off. he mirrors your smile, rubbing his palm over the top of your head. you groan, trying to slap his hand away, making him laugh. "c'mon, bug, let's head inside."

jack's house is huge compared to the apartment that robby lives in. it's two floors with a spacious kitchen and dining room. hell, there's even a living room and a tv room. no way he was able to afford all this while having the same pay as robby. "they must be outside," robby infers, guiding you towards the large french doors that lead to the backyard. you didn't expect the outside to be just as huge as the interior, but you were quickly proven wrong.

just like he told you, there's nothing but guys at this party. most are just sitting around and drinking. and a few of them are hanging in the pool. a couple of them greet robby, eyeing you as you walk past them and to the long table near the grill that holds all the food. he drops a couple beers in the cooler while you set down the brownies he requested you to make. one guy comes up to robby, grabbing a beer from him and making friendly conversation.

"hey, man. it's good to see you. we weren't sure if you'd take the day off to come see us," the man says, slapping robby on the back. "yeah, i'm just as surprised as you. but i decided that a day off could be good for me," robby replies.

"tell me about it. work has been kicking my ass recently. obviously nothing compared to yours and jack's, of course." the man's barely glances at you before doing a double take. "who's this?" he asks, a smirk making its way on his face. "don't even try it, adam," robby warns. "this is my daughter, y/n."

"it's nice to meet you," you greet with a tight lipped smile. the man, adam apparently, puts out his hand for you to shake. you don't. not because you're trying to be rude. you just don't do well with physical touch. especially from strangers. "don't sweat it, sweetheart. it's a pleasure to see a pretty face at one of these things instead of a bunch of old guys." his words make you grimace. they also have an affect on robby, who stands a bit taller and shifts his body in front of yours. but before he can say anything, an unknown voice cuts in.

"adam, back off it. don't harass the girl." even though it's masked as a joke, you can hear the underlying warning. it's enough that adam backs off with his hands held in surrender, before walking away to another part of the backyard. robby turns around to the new man. "thanks, brother," robby says, dabbing him up before pulling him into a quick hug. "don't worry about it. adam can be a piece of work at times." you turn around as well, coming face to face with probably the hottest guy you've ever seen.

he stands a couple inches shorter than robby, but he's larger in size. his biceps strain against the black tee that he wears. and the slightly baggy jeans he has on does nothing to hide that his thighs are fucking huge. his hair is gorgeous, the salt and pepper curls sitting perfectly atop his head.

okay. you need to stop staring before you start drooling. get a grip. like seriously.

thankfully, mystery man doesn't notice you ogling him. if he does, he's kind enough not to mention it. "you must be y/n, i'm jack. robby talks highly of you." he doesn't put his hand out for you to shake. he must've noticed that you didn't shake adam's. "uh, you have like, a crazy nice house," you say awkwardly. but it makes him laugh. "i appreciate that. you let me know if there's anything you need, okay?" he's just being a good host, you tell yourself. "yeah, thanks." he nods once at you, a gentle smile on his face, before slapping robby on the back and heading towards the grill. "told you he'd be nice," robby mutters, bumping your shoulder once with his.

the barbecue ends up not being bad as you thought it would be. most of your time is spent sitting beside robby and eating. some of the guys ask you questions, but other than that, you're mainly silent. not like you mind it, though. you hate pointless small talk with others. by now, the sun has set, and people are starting to shoot off some fireworks. the guys have also gotten a little more drunk as the night goes on, making the environment louder than before. so it's no surprise to robby when you politely excuse yourself to a quieter area.

when entering back into the house, you remember what robby had told you earlier about there being a balcony you could escape to. you walk up the stairs and down the hallway. you're cautious when looking for said balcony. the last thing you want is for jack to assume you're some weirdo trying to snoop in his house. as if fate is on your side, there's a bedroom door cracked open at the end of the hall. and when you peek inside, you can see the balcony door open across the room.

there's two chairs placed on the small surface, both of which are facing towards the skyline. minutes go by of silence and the occasional firework. jack's neighborhood is relatively quiet. you take a hit of your vape when you hear a familiar voice. "those things aren't good for you, you know," jack scolds playfully, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. you can't help it when your eyes drop down to forearms. "even on your day off, you're still giving doctor's advice?" you tease. he shrugs, moving to the chair beside you. a soft groan escapes him as he sits down. "what can i say, i'm just a caring individual."

you chuckle softly. "it's just a bad habit i picked up in college. i hope you don't mind me being up here. dad said that it was a good place for me if it got too loud."

"don't worry about it. robby had mentioned that loud and crowded spaces get you nervous at times, so i set up the chairs out here just in case you needed to get away."

jack's words take you by surprise. he did that for you? before tonight, he'd just heard stories about you from robby. yet he's singlehandedly done the most thoughtful act anyone has ever done for you. "that's really nice of you. thank you." you start to feel how warm your cheeks are, so you look away before he notices the soft blush on them. "it's beautiful tonight," you murmur, admiring the night sky. "yeah, it is," he agrees. but you're too focused on the fireworks to notice he's looking at you. "how are you liking pittsburgh so far?"

"slowly but surely i'm getting used to it. it's definitely different than roseburg, but overall, i like it here. it's more lively and has more opportunities."

"robby told me you were a drama major, is that right?"

"i am, yeah. i know it's not the most useful degree, but..." you just shrug, unsure of what to say. "hey, a degree is a degree. from what i've heard, you're pretty talented. you been in anything?"

"nothing major, no. a few local commercials and i was a background character in a horror movie a couple years ago."

"well, i'm sure any agency would be glad to have you." god, could jack be anymore perfect? you've only known him for what, a couple hours? and somehow he's raised the bar for you by miles.

a gust of wind blows by, making you shiver. maybe wearing shorts and a tank top with no jacket wasn't the best idea. "you cold?" jack asks. "a little, but i'm okay. you don't have to-" halfway through your sentence he stands up and goes into the room connected to the balcony. now that you're looking at it, you realize that it's his bedroom. oh my god. he comes back out with a navy blue blanket in hand, draping it over your legs that you pulled up to your chets. "there you go." the blanket itself is soft and warm, like it recently came out of the dryer.

"you know, you don't have to feel inclined to stay. i'm sure being down there is a lot more fun than up here with me," you suggest. "nah, i like it up here. besides, you are a lot more fun than those guys, believe me, sweetheart. a lot less drunk too." you like the way he calls you sweetheart. it feels less icky than when adam called you it. you barely notice how much times passes by.

unlike most people, jack doesn't attempt to fill the silence with forced conversation. the questions he asks are sincere, like he actually wants to know about you. and your responses come out so naturally that it doesn't feel like jack was a complete stranger until tonight. you only know that it's gotten late when robby comes searching for you. "bug? there you are," he says, walking out on the balcony. "hey, brother, what are you doing up here?"

"just getting to know the little movie star. you planning on heading out?" jack asks. "yeah, it's getting late and i promised dana that i would come in tomorrow to make up for missing today. you ready to head out, bug?" you nod, stretching as you stand up. "thanks for the blanket, jack," you say, folding it and setting it down on the chair. "you're welcome. c'mon, let me walk the two you of out."

robby leaves the balcony first, then you, and then jack. as you walk downstairs, you nearly miss the last step. but just before you take a tumble, jack catches you with a hand on the small of your back. "careful there. that step is rickety," he mutters. you can feel how warm his breath is on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

once outside, jack pulls robby into a quick hug. "thanks for coming tonight, it was good seeing you outside of work."

"i appreciated the invite. you coming in tomorrow?"

jack shrugs. "we'll see how my leg is feeling. it's been killing me all day." robby claps him on the shoulder, the closest thing to comfort that he'll give. "well, just let me know. i'll see you around, brother."

"see ya, brother." robby waves, before hopping inside the car. "and you," jack points at you, "don't be a stranger, yeah? it's nice having a new and pretty face around."

"you got it..." you're unsure of what to call him. you know that his last name is abbot from the small background robby gave you on the drive here. calling him dr. abbot would be too formal. but would jack be too casual? you just met him, so you don't know. "jack. you can call me jack, sweetheart," he assures.

there it is again. sweetheart. and that smile... god, you're gonna need a cold shower when you get home. "alright, you got it, jack. might have to take you up on the offer and try out that pool of yours," you say jokingly. "it's open to you anytime you want it," he retorts. but he means it. "have a good night."

"you too," you reply, waving goodbye. now in the car, robby looks over at you. "you feeling okay? you're looking a little warm."

"huh? oh, yeah, i'm fine. i must've got heat exhaustion or something." sure, heat exhaustion. it looks like he almost doesn't believe you, but chooses not to argue. "alright, well, drink some water and electrolytes when we get home. and put a cold towel around your neck."

"you got it, dad." robby then pulls off of the curb, making a u-turn and driving away. the whole drive home, your thoughts are stuck on jack. you're not sure what will cure whatever it is that jack is making you feel.

you end up not seeing jack for almost two weeks since that night. in those two weeks, you've done everything in your power to get him off your mind. you ended up getting the job at the record store, taking shifts pretty much whenever possible so you could rake in money for yourself. you did a few auditions here and there, but had no luck in getting callbacks. hell, you've even rearranged your room more times than you could count whenever thoughts of him flooded your mind at night.

by this point, you believed that luck was not on your side. until robby called you on your way home from work. "hey, bug, i hope i'm not bothering you while you're at work, but i'm gonna have to pull a double tonight."

"everything okay?"

"as okay as it can be, i guess. there was a pretty big pileup and the closest hospital is ours so we're gonna need all hands on deck basically," robby explains.

"okay, well, i can bring you dinner if you want."

"you don't have to if you can't, bug."

"dad, really it's fine. besides, i just left work so i don't mind it," you insist.

robby sighs over the phone, knowing how stubborn you are. "alright. you can come in through the ambulance bay, it'll be faster. i'll let ahmad know you're stopping by."

"sounds good. love you."

"love you too, stay safe."

due to the aftermath of the pileup, it takes you longer than expected to pickup the food and get to the hospital. thankfully, though you don't run into any complications when arriving through the ambulance bay. a man in a security uniform waves you in and politely nods. that must be ahmad. you head towards the nurses station, looking for dana. but you instead find an unfamiliar, older woman.

"hello," you greet with a soft smile. "can you please tell me where dr. robby is?" she's not nearly as friendly with you as you were with her. "are you a patient?"

"no, ma'am, i'm not."

"are you the family member of a patient?"

"no-"

"then why are you here? matter of fact, how did you get in here? so leave, before i call security on you."

you're grateful for the familar voice that cuts in. "monica! this is robby's daughter, y/n, that's why she's here. how about you go take a smoke break, huh?" dana suggets. monica eyes you up and down with clear disdain, especially at your outfit. she mumbles something about 'this generation nowadays' before walking outside to the ambulance bay. "sorry about her, honey, monica can be a real piece of work sometimes," dana apologizes once she's gone.

"it's alright, i'm fine," you reply. "can you tell me where dad is?"

"he's in trauma room one right now. why? something wrong?" dana puts on her glasses, ready to examine whatever injury you might have. "no, nothing's wrong. i just brought him some dinner since he's pulling a double. do you think he'll be out anytime soon?"

"i don't think so, hun. the patient he got was in a pretty rough state when they came in." you nod, understanding. "okay, well, can you give it to him when he's done? i know that if anyone else does it he won't listen and actually eat the food." she laughs, tapping you on the arm. "you got it. come back and visit more often, yeah?"

"yes, ma'am, see ya!" she waves goodbye, you do the same. as you walk out, you glance down at your phone for maybe a second, before running into a brick wall. no, it's definitely not a brick wall. because a brick wall doean't smell like sandalwood. also because two large hands grab you by your biceps to steady you. "jack," you breathe out.

"gotta be more careful, sweetheart. i can't always stop you from falling," he teases. "what brings you around here?"

"i brought dad some dinner for tonight."

he hums softly. "it's good to see you again. you doing alright?"

"i am, yeah. how about you?"

"better now that you're here." jesus christ, if you weren't surrounded by ambulances and complete strangers, you probably would've jumped his bones right here and now. "hey, are you free this weekend?" he suddenly asks.

"uh, i should be. why?" please be a date, you think over and over. "i was thinking about inviting you and robby over for dinner. it would be nice to get to know you more," he instead says. hopefully, you mask your disappointment well. "that would be great, yeah. i'll let him know."

"alright, well, i need to give you my number so we can smooth out the details." you put your phone in his outstretched hand, watching as he punches in his number. "well, i should probably head in there soon. but hopefully i'll see you this weekend?"

"yeah, this weekend," you echo.

"cute shirt, by the way," jack says, fingers lightly brushing the thin strap of your flowery top as he passes. it doesn't occur to you until you get home that robby already has jack's number.

jack never needed to give you his.

friday night, you receive a text from jack's contact who saved himself in your phone as 'jack 😎'. the single emoji makes you laugh softly.

the next day, you spend all morning trying to figure out what to wear. you know that it technically isn't a date, but you still want to look nice. but nothing too forward. god, this is hard. you land on something basic, but reason that it'll be good enough. jack offers to pick you up, but you insist that you can drive yourself. so he texts you his address.

jack greets you at the door with a gentle smile. "i'm glad you could make it, sweetheart. dinner's already made. i set it out on the patio if that's okay."

"that's perfect," you assure.

"alright, follow me then."

you're surprised by how all out jack has gone for this dinner. a fresh bouquet of flowers sit in a glass vase right in the middle of the table, with small candles lit around it. "you did all of this?"

"yeah, i did," he responds. like it's no big deal. "why? you don't like it?"

"huh? no, i do. it looks amazing. i just wish i would've known you were going all out. i would've worn something a little more nicer than this," you say, gesturing towards your outfit. he looks at it up and down. "i think you look beautiful the way you're dressed now," he replies without a second thought. "now let's eat before it gets cold." he moves over to the atble, pulling out your chair for you. even pushing you in once you're sitting down.

jack takes his place across from you, plating your food first before his. "i wasn't sure what you liked to eat, but i figured that you can't really go wrong with pasta. and i also assumed that you don't drink alcohol because i didn't see you drink during the party. but i noticed you drinking diet coke. is that fine?" it makes you smile to see how attentive he is. he cares so much to impress you at the moment that you're almost taken aback. "everything is perfect. like, seriously. the food is amazing too," you praise.

jack's shoulders drop just a bit, like the praise you've just given him was exactly what he needed to hear. he hasn't done something like this in years. not since the passing of his wife. so it feels good to hear that he's doing this right. "robby told me you got a new job?"

"yeah, i did. i work at the record store down 5th."

"how are you liking it?"

"it's good so far. it's close to the house, and the owner and all the staff is really nice. but i don't see it as like, a forever career, obviously. i'm mainly just working there so i can save away money to move out of dad's place. i just feel bad for free loading or whatever," you ramble, a little embarrassed when you realize that you added on a lot more details than needed. but jack doesn't seem to care. he doesn't even seem to notice. he's just sitting there and listening. "you know, your dad doesn't see it that way. he loves you a lot," he reassures.

"yeah, i know. but dad has already done so much for me, you know? he's always been there for me since i can remember."

"was he friends with your birth dad?"

you shake your head. "no, he was friends with my mom. they grew up together, actually. same neighborhood, same school. they were really close. apparently, everyone used to say that they wouldn't be surprised if the two of them ended up marrying each other. it obviously never happened because he went away to new orleans to do his residency. when he came back, my mom was already married with a little girl. i remember being so young and telling people i couldn't wait to become a doctor like my uncle robby." you recall the memory with a small laugh. for your seventh birthday, he even bought you one of those play doctor kits.

"why didn't you?" jack asks softly.

"my mom got diagnosed with stage four breast cancer when i was sixteen. it was just really hard, you know? to see her so weak and sick when i so used to seeing her lively. she passed a few months after the diagnosis. after that, i just couldn't see myself being surrounded by sickness and death."

you had never told anyone that before. besides robby, no one knew about your old dreams of being a doctor. you're not sure why you tell jack all of that. but there's just something about him that seems so trustworthy. but you appreciate that he doesn't look at you with pity like everyone else does. instead he almost looks... understanding of you and your pain.

"i, uh, i lost my wife to breast cancer. about ten years ago now," he admits quietly. "it's good to talk about them, the people you've lost. just because they're gone doesn't mean the relationship is done."

"amen to that," you say, tipping your soda towards him. the small gesture makes him laugh. and the previously solemn air feels lighter. like maybe two people have just felt a little less lonely than before.

dinner unsurprisingly continues to go well after that. jack asks you all kinds of questions, and you answer them all with enthusiasm. you notice that he doesn't really talk much himself. not for a lack of trying, though. whenever you would attempt to let him chime in or change the conversation topic, he would turn it back around on you. "i feel bad. i'm doing all the talking," you say. "good thing for you, sweetheart, i like listening," he retorts.

once dinner is over, you try to help him out by washing the dishes. but he comes up from behind, grabbing your hips as he moves to the side. "jack, c'mon, i'm trying to help out," you argue, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head while rinsing the utensils. "you're my guest, meaning you don't do the cleaning up."

"are you sure? i don't mind helping."

"positive. go ahead and hop in the pool if you want. there's a bathroom down the hall for you to change in."

you nod, knowing that no amount of convincing will change his mind. grabbing your purse off of one of the chairs in the dining room, you head down the hall and towards one of the doors. "uh uh, to your left, sweetheart. there you go," he says, leading you to the correct door. thank god your back is turned so he can't see how warm your face gets. you shouldn't feel so aroused at what he said. they're normal, everyday words! but it's just how he said it... you throw some cold water on your face to snap out of it.

jack is robby's best friend. and whether blood related or not, you still see robby as your dad. it would probably give him a heart attack to see his surrogate daughter all over his best friend. besides, jack doesn't see you that way. he's just being nice. he had mentioned he was born in south carolina. it's just that southern hospitality or whatever. he definitely has southern charm, that's for sure.

quickly, you realize that the bikini you packed is probably not the most appropriate. it's not scandalous, and even if it was who gives a fuck, but it's also not the best to wear around a man that you barely know. not that jack would do anything, at least you hope not. but it was the only one you had unpacked. you peek your head out of the bathroom to look towards the kitchen and see if jack is still there. oddly, he's not. fully stepping out, you realize that he's nowhere to be seen. he's probably outside. but when you go out there, his presence can't be found. must be upstairs, then.

slowly, you sink into the shallow end of the pool. inch by inch since it's so cold, causing goosebumps to rise in your skin. to be honest, pools were never really your thing. being an only child and only having older cousins meant never getting to experience playing mermaids with someone your age. but you enjoy the calming effect that water has on you. so most of the time, you just end up awkwardly floating around until your fingers prune.

the sound of a chair being scraped across the concrete breaks you out of your thoughts.

looking behind you, you see jack sitting down, rubbing at his right knee. "you're not coming in?" you ask and he shakes his head. "can't," he replies. just as you're about to question why, he tugs up his right pant leg, displaying the metal prosethtic. "sometimes the chlorine really messes with it."

"oh, i'm sorry," you apologize, a bit sheepish now after not knowing about his disability. "no need to say sorry, sweetheart. you didn't know," he says, shrugging it off. "people have said and reacted a lot worse when seeing it."

you let a few seconds pass before asking, "does it hurt?"

"sometimes it can, yeah. if i keep the prosthetic on for long periods of time, it'll put pressure and dig into my skin. and once in a while, i'll get phantom pain where my leg once was," he explains. he doesn't allow himself to dwell on it too long before changing the topic. "you liking the pool?"

"it's really nice. wish i had my own on days when it gets unbearably hot."

"then come over whenever you want. not like anyone else is using it," he simply says, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. you smirk softly. "those things aren't good for you, you know," you say, mocking his words from the other night. he mirrors your smirk. "you gonna stop me from smoking it, sweetheart?" jack asks, smoke spilling out the side of his mouth as he talks.

you hold up your hands in fake surrender. "let me have a hit?" and he nods, holding it out to you. "i don't wanna accidentally drop it or something." playfully he rolls his eyes. "forgot how clumsy you are," he teases. "c'mere then." you push yourself up, forearms resting on the edge of the pool. it takes all the restraint in him to not look down at the way your cleavage is pushed up in this position.

jack takes one long drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth. he beckons with his pointer and middle finger to come closer, which you do. his nose brushes yours as he leans in to let the smoke travel from his mouth to yours. your lips touch, just barely, but it's enough for him to groan at the feeling. once the smoke is gone, you move away. but only slightly.

jack glances down at your bikini. just this once, he reasons. red, white, and blue. cute. "did you buy it for the fourth?" you shake your head. "not for this one. i bought it a couple years ago for a pool party with my boyfriend."

"you still got one?"

"got what? a boyfriend?"

"yeah, a boyfriend," he confirms. "a pretty girl like you must have one."

"no, i don't. not since i found out that he was cheating on me for three out of the five years we were dating."

jack tsks, flicking some of the ash off the cigarette. "it's his loss then. should've known that he had the best he's ever gonna get." you snort softly. "you're just saying that," you say, but he shakes his head. "no, i mean it. he wouldn't know how to handle you, anyways."

you raise an eyebrow. this is definitely getting interesting now. "oh, really? what, and you do?" you wonder if jack knows what you're doing. which, of course he does. he's not blind. and much to your luck, he taks the bait. "yeah, sweetheart, i do."

seconds, minutes, maybe even hours pass as the two of you just stare. you're not sure who, but someone leans in first, closing the distance between you. the second your lips touch his, jack doesn't hold back. he lets the cigarette fall from between his fingers, stomping it out beneath his shoe. his hands come up to hold the sides of your face, pulling you as close as possible. one of your hands reach out towards the edge of the pool to stabilize yourself.

you tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. jack's tongue swipes across your bottom lip, silently requesting access. and you give it to him, obviously. you moan softly, which makes him smirk against your lips. the kiss continues for a few seconds more, with quiet sounds escaping the both of you. he pulls away first. a soft whine slips from your mouth. his thumb bumps your bottom lip, wiping away the single strand of spit connecting your lips to his.

"don't be like that, baby. i'll take care of you. want me to do that?" he asks and you nod, but that's not enough for him. "use your words, c'mon."

"i want you to take care of me, jack. please," you breathe out. ever the gentleman, jack helps you out of the pool, careful not to let you slip. he's now given a better view of you in your bikini. the wet cloth sticks to your skin, water droplets dripping down your smooth thighs. but that's not what intrigues him. well, correction, everything about you intrigues him. but there's a belly button piercing that catches his eye. it has a silver bar and jewel, with the little playboy bunny logo dangling.

"when did you get this?" jack asks, brushing at the piercing. "when i was seventeen. after my mom's passing, i kinda went through this rebellious phase. getting this piercing was one of the first things i did," you explain. "why? you like it?"

he nods. "yeah, i do," he rasps, "let's take this upstairs, okay, baby?" you let out a small 'okay', letting him gently drag you into the house.

you can't believe it. you really can't believe it. no way did you ever think that coming to jack's house tonight was gonna result in you two hooking up. not that you're really complaining, though.

you smile to yourself. he likes my piercing, you think as you walk up the stairs. your ex hated your piercing. always claimed that it was a poor excuse to slut yourself out. yeah, well, he was a fucking dick so who cares now.

once in the room, jack shuts the door behind you two before pulling you into another breath stealing kiss. it's shorter than the first, but not any less passionate. he grabs at your hips, moving you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bedframe and you fall onto the bed. his body cages yours, forearms resting on either side of your head. pulling away from your lips, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. he bites you on your pulse point before sticking out his tongue to soothe the aching spot. you moan, bucking up your hips to meet his, feeling his growing bulge.

you hope that he leaves a mark. selfishly, jack does too. one of his hands sneaks into your bikini bottoms, swiping at your entrance. a soft groan escapes him when he feels how wet you are. "fuck, baby. all this f'me?" you nod rapidly. "yes, jack, it's all for you. just, please," you beg, pushing up against his hand for anything. any kind of friction to soothe this aching feeling. "please what, huh? use your big girl words again."

you let out a soft huff. it's almost humiliating to admit how needy you are right now. but you know won't get what you want, what you need, if you don't speak up. "i want you to fuck me, jack. please, jackie, please," you admit, breathing heavily.

jack smiles against your neck. licking a long stripe from the base of your neck to behind your ear. he then presses a small kiss there. "that's it, sweetheart. that's what i wanna hear." he pulls away to look at you. "but not yet, okay? i gotta ease you into it." he slides down to the floor in a prayer position, ignoring the way his leg starts aching. instead, grabbing at your thighs to pull you closer. "hand me that pillow beside you," he softly commands, gesturing to the light gray one to your left. you do as he says, tossing it to him so he can place it beneath his prosthetic.

slowly, jack starts to tug down your bikini bottoms, inch by inch, before your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. "what are you doing?" you ask hesitantly. "i told you. let me ease you into it. but if you don't wanna do this, that's okay too, baby," he replies, already moving to stand up, but you pull him back in. "no, i want this, please. i just didn't expect you to, you know, eat me out," you admit. truth be told, your ex never did that. always said it was gross, despite the multiple times he would make you go down on him. his form of 'foreplay' was roughly fingering you for like five seconds before putting it in.

jack is able to pick up on what you don't say. this is your first time getting this kind of treatment. "i'll go slow with you, okay? if it gets too much for you, tap on my shoulder twice."

"okay, i trust you," you whisper, nodding once as a sign for him to continue. jack finishes tugging your bikini bottoms down, letting them fall onto the ground beneath him. he begins to kiss up the insides of your thighs. the light stubble on his jaw rubs against your skin, making you shiver. he starts with short kitten licks on your cunt. the sensation is nothing like you've ever felt before. he goes slow, but in the best way possible. it keeps you right on the edge.

jack keeps his left hand on your thigh, pinning it down to the bed. but his right ends up between your legs. he starts with his pointer, slowly sliding it in. his fingers are longer, thicker. reaching places that you never could when by yourself. a soft moan slips from your lips. "you like that?" he asks, voice muffled.

"yes! yes, jack. more please." and how can he deny you when you ask so nicely? he pumps his finger in and out faster, simultaneously speeding up his tongue. he slips a second finger in. this one hits you just right. another moan from you. this one louder than before. there it is, he thinks to himself. he starts to lick at your clit. the two sensations combined feel like heaven on earth. he keeps the same pace. only slowing down when he feels you getting close. he hopes that you know he's not trying to be mean. he wants this to last for you.

it all feels so good that your legs start to shake. he forces one of your legs open with his free hand. a coil in your belly starts to tighten when he keeps hitting your g-spot over and over and over. "jack, 'm so close. please, right there. just- ugh, fuck, keep going," you whine, fingers digging into his sheets. you're fisting the sheets so tightly that you might rip them. jack lets go of your thigh to grab that hand. he squeezes it once. a silent 'i got you'. he brushes against your g-spot one last time, sucking on your clit, before you come. it rushes out of you so hard that you almost see stars. without meaning to, your thighs clamp around his head as a multitude of moans escape you. not like he minds it, though. he's happy right where he is.

finally, jack pulls away, moving to hover over you again. "you doing okay, sweet girl?" he notices your eyes are shut. when you don't respond, he lightly slaps your thigh. your eyes open. "i'm sorry. it's just... i haven't come like that in a really long time. kinda took me out for a sec," you reply. "do you think you can keep going?" he questions. he's not gonna push you if you don't want to. you nod. "i can. besides, i can't just leave you hanging." your eyes flick down to the bulge straining against his jeans.

fuck, even in his pants he looks huge.

"c'mere," you mutter, pulling him in by his chin to makeout with him. your sudden burst of dominance makes jack groan into your mouth. your hands tug at the hem of his shirt with a soft whimper. a silent plea that you need this stupid fabric off of him. he obliges. breaking away from the kiss for just a second. the sight of him shirtless distracts you. with the farmers tan on his thick arms, the freckles across the expanse of his chest, and his soft belly. "like what you see, sweetheart?" he asks. "fuck, yeah, i do," you reply, before pulling him back in for a kiss.

his large fingers tangle into the wet strands of your hair. you blindly fumble with his belt, unable to get a firm grasp on it. he reaches down with his right hand, though, undoing the button and zipper easily.

pulling down his boxers and jeans in one go, jack's cock springs free, slapping against the ridge of his soft abs. your ex was average, only around five inches. but jack? he's huge, just like you expected. seven, maybe even pushing seven and a half inches. but not only that, he's girthy as shit. now you understand why he couldn't just fuck you right away. you swallow nervously, eyes darting between his face and cock. "will it even fit?" you ask soflty. he presses a quick kiss on your forehead. "i'll be gentle. i won't rush you, promise."

jack leans over to search through his nightstand for a condom. when he doesn't see the familiar gold foil, he mutters a quiet expletive. "shit, baby, i'm sorry. i don't have any condoms-" he begins to say, but you cut him off, blurting, "that's fine! i mean, i'm on the pill," you correct yourself. "so i'm okay with it if you are." he nods once. "only since you're said it's okay, yeah? but if it gets too much, you let me know," he reminds. he grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. then, slowly, he begins to push himself in.

the initial push takes your breath away. he then adds another inch, then another. by this point, he's barely halfway in and still has you letting out soft mewls. the burn of his thick cock splitting you open is new, but not unpleasant. inch by inch, he enters in you before he's fully nestled inside of you. both of you let out similar moans of pleasure. he doesn't move for a few seconds, allowing you to get used to his size. you feel so full you almost can't breathe. it's like the tip sits right under your sternum, leaving you to feel nothing but him. gradually, he begins to move back and forth, cock dragging against the walls of your cunt.

it doesn't take long for him to find your g-spot once again. you let out a quiet whimper when he does. but this time, he doesn't move fast, like with his fingers. his movements are slow and calculated. right now isn't about him. it's about you and giving you the pleasure that you deserve. he won't allow himself to come until you do. he hits that gummy spot over and over.

you drag your nails down his back, before digging them into the skin between his shoulder blades. a quiet groan escapes him when you do. he likes it, you realize. as his cock pulses inside you. "you feel that, huh? got me all hard and pent up. that's what you've done to me. haven't been able to get you out of my mind since we first met. you and those little shorts. you're just so gorgeous, baby," he praises, which makes you moan and clench around him.

"fuck, jackie, 'm close. please, let me come, please," you beg.

"yeah? you wanna come, baby?" jack teases and you nod rapidly. "i bet your ex never fucked you like this, huh?" you shake your head. he lightly slaps you on your cheek, just enough to make you look at him. "come on, sweetheart, words. i bet your ex never fucked you like this," he repeats.

"no! no, he never did. not like you, jackie. mhm, shit, you feel so good."

"yeah, that's what i like to hear. come on, sweetheart, come on my cock. you got it, i know you do." he moves one of his hands back down to start thumbing at your clit, just enough to push you right over the edge. barely three seconds later, you come around him with a scream. thanking god that he doesn't live in an apartment complex. your cunt clenches around him as you come, giving him enough stimulation to follow suit. but he pulls out at the last second, coming on your stomach with a groan.

nobody moves for minutes. both of you needing that time to catch your breath. jack start gets up first, tucking himself back into his jeans. "i'll be back, just lie down," he says, kissing you on your temple. he leaves into the bathroom, before coming back out, a wet rag in hand. he cleans off his release from your stomach, moving down to wipe at your cunt. the cold rag makes you shiver and whine, attempting to close your legs. "shh, it's okay, baby. let me clean you up first," he coos, wiping you down as gentle as he can. once done, he tosses the rag in the same corner of the room as his shirt. "can you stand up?"

you grumble, attempting to roll over. "i'm too tired."

"i know, but you gotta go pee first. then we can go to bed." jack pulls you into his arms bridal style, quietly hissing at the ache in his back and leg. he carries you all the way into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. leaving you to do your business as he finds you something to sleep in. a pair of boxers and old army shirt will do. just as you're finishing up washing your hands is when he returns. "you can sleep in these for tonight." you mutter a quiet 'thanks.'

jack turns around, giving you some privacy to change. it makes you giggle softly. the man just rearranged your guts and fucked you so well less than ten minutes ago, yet he's still not watching you as you change. "i'm done," you say, and he turns back around. the dark green shirt falls just above your knees, slipping off one of shoulder. the ends of your hair slightly curl from getting wet earlier, and you have that after sex glow. you look beautiful right now. he must realize that he's staring, because he clears his throat and steps to the side. "uh, you can lie down. i'll finish cleaning myself up," he says, to which you nod.

the second your head hits the pillow you're knocked out. from swimming to fucking, you're body is completely drained. about thirty minutes later, jack comes back out. grey hair wet with water dripping down his chest. he's careful to not make any noise on his crutches as he moves towards the bed. sitting down on his side, he leans the crutches on the wall, before rubbing some moisturizer on his stump. he slides under the covers, instinctively wrapping his arms around your waist. even in your sleep you lean into him. head on his chest, right above his heart. "sweet dreams, baby," he murmurs into your hair, kissing the top of your head.

it hits jack in this exact moment that he just slept with the goddaughter of his best friend. he should probably stop it before it happens again. before feelings arise and emotions get in the way. but it's too late. now that he's had you, he doesn't think he can let go.

Thank God you’re all the way out instead of back at camp where your middle school-age campers are tucked away, sleeping in their cabins on the hill.

At Camp Woodwick, the last night of their month-long summer session always ends on the Fourth of July. Which is tonight. And on the last night, the counselors don’t have a curfew, so the whole lot of you can pitch tents down by the lake and watch the fireworks show. 

It was fun for awhile, but after a handful of lackluster campfire stories and couple burnt marshmallows, Steve announced he was going to bed. The guys complained, begging him to light some fireworks with them, but he said he was going to turn in anyway. 

Right after his eyes caught yours. 

You excused yourself shortly after him, not even really sure why. And as you changed into your sleep shorts and a t-shirt, and settled into your sleeping bag, you blamed your sour mood on the heat and the bugs.

Assuring yourself that it had nothing to do with the fact that you and Steve Harrington have been at each other’s throats for weeks.

Tonight is is counselor’s night out! It’s supposed to be a fun end-of-the-summer bash for all the adults who were paid a few grand to babysit. It’s the night everyone looks forward to the most. 

You should be having fun—being young. Whatever that means. 

At some point between the whole saving-the-world-and-barely-escaping-with-your-life-thing, you became somewhat of a stranger to that idea. Your life had been, for lack of a better term, flipped upside down. 

Steve groans again. Hot embers flare to life in your core, stirred up by the sound of his thready voice. So low and breathless. 

He has to shut up. What is he thinking, jerking off like this with people nearby?

Granted, your tents are the furthest away from everyone else’s, and no one has really gone to bed yet. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But between the sticky humid air clinging to your skin, and the sharp whistles from exploding fireworks, when Steve moans softly again you finally just…snap. 

Ripping the blankets off yourself, you rustle around your tent for your flashlight, grumbling and muttering in the dark.

God, you have to do everything yourself, don’t you? 

You wince as your tent opens with a loud zip that punctuates the darkness surrounding you. Peeking over your shoulder, you can see the smoke from the campfire in the distance, curling up towards the stars. A few of your fellow counselors are still lounging around the fire, but most of them are small shadows dotting the lake’s edge. 

Steve pitched his orange tent under a tree. 

Stupid. 

Doesn’t he know that the roots will mess the tent stakes up? You’re surprised he could even get them in the ground. Honestly, it will probably fall down on him tonight. 

You hope it does. 

His tent is dark and quiet, but you march over anyway, flashlight raised so the beam falls straight on him when you turn it on. 

You yank on his tent’s zipper. It gives easily. A muffled curse comes from inside, and you click on the flashlight to reveal Steve lying on his side, bare chest rising and falling as he squints into the bright beam.

“God, you never could stay quiet, could you?” You say, bullying your way through the tent flap and zipping it back up behind you. 

Steve scrambles to throw his sleeping bag over himself, but it does practically nothing to hide his raging boner underneath. 

“What the fuck do you want?” He snaps, glaring up at you. 

Despite yourself, your eyes catch on a delicious bicep, and his muscled shoulder in the shine of your flashlight. That chest hair has taunted you all summer long. It’s been torturous pretending you didn’t know what it felt like against your bare breasts, against your back...

You clear your throat. “I just thought I’d let you know the whole camp can hear you jerking off.”

“What? I’m not—Jesus.” His big hand drags down his face, even as he pulls the sleeping bag up higher. “Get out.”

Whoops, there you go again, getting distracted by his hands. 

Maybe you should close your eyes, or turn around—something—because looking at him stretched out in the dark like this is making you think wicked things.

Your lips twist in a mocking smirk, and you gesture down to the sleeping bag. “Oh, c’mon, Steve. Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” 

Lots of times, actually. 

Through the years, you’d been there for everything—watched him get captured, tortured, and sacrificed for others. But after it was all over, and the dust settled, you fell into each other a different way. 

Because it wasn’t the days plagued with Demogorgons, evil Russians, or even Vecna that were the worst.

It was the days that followed.

The hollow darkness you experienced as the world kept moving on, oblivious to the memories that plagued you both. You had to learn how to live normally again, and something about that was both relieving and excruciatingly lonely at the same time.

The nightmares had a way of sticking to you like blood you couldn’t get off no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself raw in the shower. 

It was in those shaky, sweaty, middle-of-the-night fever dreams that you and Steve found solace in each other. Because when it all became a bit too much, you could dig your nails into someone else’s skin, feel a slick, hot mouth against yours—ground yourself in something intrinsically human just to prove that after everything, you still are.

But all that came to a screeching halt last summer. 

“Okay,” Steve sighs, shifting a little and squinting up at you. “Let’s say that I was. You wanted to come over and…cockblock me? From myself? And turn that thing off unless you want everyone to see two silhouettes in here.”

You click the flashlight off immediately, plunging you both into darkness. 

Maybe you should rescind your previous statement. Because now, without being able to see him, his proximity is somehow affecting you even more. 

You can hear his soft breaths, smell the lake water on his skin. And underneath it all, the familiar sounds and scents of him that opens a gaping hole of nostalgia in the pit of your stomach. 

You try to laugh, but it comes out cold. “You think I give a fuck if you’re rubbing one out, Harrington? No. I came over here because you’re fucking whimpering and moaning—”

“—I was not whimpering.” 

“—and you’re incapable of keeping quiet—yes, you were, and I was getting sick of hearing it. So, either do it quieter, or find someone to cover your fucking mouth.”

As you were talking, your vision adjusted to the darkness. Which is a very bad thing, because now you can see him again. Specifically the outline of his mussed hair as he lifts his chin to meet your gaze. 

“You offering?”

Your breath catches.

You should say no. You should tell him to go fuck himself—literally— and leave right now. He can let the whole camp hear him for all you care. 

But instead, you hesitate. 

Now, Steve is smart. Smarter than he gives himself credit for, that’s for sure. And there are certain patterns he’s picked up on with you over the years. Like, when you pause like that, the answer is almost always a yes. 

Which is why the second you go quiet, and the distant laughter of the other counselors fills the space between you, he’s already batting the sleeping bag off his lap. 

“I knew it,” he says. The fabric slips off him just as a firework bursts overhead, and your eyes drag over his body. The lean, tan muscle from all his time outside this summer, down to his long, hard cock jerking against his happy trail. “You’re so busy acting like you hate me, wanting to play this game where we bitch at each other all summer, and now you’re making up excuses to come into my tent—”

“Oh, trust me,” you scoff, tearing your eyes away to meet his again. “It’s not an excuse.”

“No?” he says softly, leaning back on one arm and gesturing at his body with the other. “Then, prove it.”

“Fine, but I’m only staying to keep you quiet,” you warn him, pinning him with a harsh look. 

“Sure. Whatever,” Steve rasps, watching as you drop to your knees beside him. 

Your fingers curl into his sleeping bag beside his shoulder, but you’re careful not to touch him. 

He wishes you would. 

You gesture impatiently at him, your hand a shadowy blur in the dark. “Go ahead and get it over with. I’m not sitting here all night. God.”

Steve rushes to obey, and when wraps his hand around his cock again, the rush is so intense it’s almost painful. The way you’re sitting there just watching him is making his head feel fuzzy, and his dick swell.

And look at you—pretending to not be affected in the slightest watching the flushed head poke out of his fist over and over as he jerks off in front of you. God, you turn him on so fucking much. 

Steve heaves a stuttering breath, and his head drops back onto the ground as the pleasure pools in his gut. He thinks he’s doing a good job being quiet. But he can’t smother the moan that escapes him the second your warm hand brushes his shoulder.

“Steve,” you hiss, warning lacing your voice. 

“Shut me up, then. Goddamn.” He groans, his cock twitching in his palm. “What are you even here for? I could do this myself—” At that moment, your hand finds his chest and, well, your fingers might as well be a defibrillator. His hips jerk, mouth dropping open in pleasure. “—oh, fuck yeah.”

Your touch is heaven. His eyelids threaten to shut as your fingers brush through his chest hair, over his ribs— so sure, and steady, soothing and warm. Like his flesh and bone is a map you know by heart. 

He’s panting, desperate not to make a sound and give you a reason to take your hand away while your palm trails lower.

He raises his chin to catch a glimpse of your profile as the fireworks crack in the sky, raining down in bright fizzling pops that he feels in his chest. 

Honestly, he should’ve known this is how the summer would end with you. 

He’s known it, and yet, he’s run from it. 

Because the last time he had you…God, he’s been such an idiot. 

Last summer, when you came home from college for break, he’d been sitting on your doorstep. A silent understanding passed between you two, and then you’d grabbed his hand and taken him up to your room.

Afterwards, you were laying under him, sweaty and warm, eyes glowing with…with something that made his heart tug painfully. And suddenly, it all got to be too much. 

He’d been craving you all semester. As if you were a long drag from a cigarette. And that gnawing ache didn’t surface with anyone else. Only you. 

His chest swelled up tight, and the bridge of his nose started to burn, and he realized… he was scared. 

Terrified, actually. 

Because what if the both of you reaching out for each other was nothing but a trained response, like Pavlov’s dogs or some shit? What if you had built this trauma bond…thing? He wasn’t entirely sure what that even meant, but he knew that no one could know him so intrinsically, so deeply, so invasively and still want him anyway. 

So, Steve proceeded to do the stupidest thing possible by dropping a kiss to your forehead, pulling his clothes back on, and walking out the door. 

He told himself it was for the best. Months after, even though he thought of you constantly, and still woke up slicked in sweat, hands flying to his wounds in the dark, he never called you. 

But when you showed up at Camp Woodwick, looking to earn some cash over the summer, same as him, all the walls he’d built up between him and his past came crashing down. 

So, he pushed you away. For weeks. It was worse than he thought it would be, though. Because when he pushed, you pushed back harder. 

His head swims with the knowledge that after a whole year without you, you’re here. You’re the same. Familiar. The smell of your hair, down to the soft breaths escaping to ur lips. 

He’s still hard as a rock, but his hand isn’t cutting it. Not when what he really wants is right here in front of him.

Steve curses under his breath. “You wanna help me out, sweetheart? Give me that mouth?”

“W-what?” You snort. “You can hardly be quiet with your own hand, Harrington. You think you’re going to survive that?”

“Please? Just lick it. Just the tip.”

“Stop begging. Also, be qu—“

“Right. Right, I’ll be quiet,” Steve grumbles. “Just—if you’re gonna fucking march in here and tell me to do it faster, then the least you could do is help me out.” Another firework squeals, then pops, showering you in gold as you blink down at him.

Boisterous laughs drift over the water, and your eyes flick up instinctively to meet the tent wall before your bottom lip disappears between your teeth. His stomach flips in anticipation. He knows that look. 

“C’mon,” he urges, fighting back a smirk. “You know how I like it, baby.”

Shit. 

Steve knows that pet name has always been your weakness. You’re not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because it reminded you that on the outside, you were just friends. But in bed…you were his.

You shouldn’t fall for a cheap trick like that. Look at him, biting the corner of his mouth like he’s trying not to smirk. Cocky bastard. 

But, even so, you make the mistake of glancing down his body.

His hand slips away in a silent invitation, revealing his heavy cock jutting out from his soft tummy and you lose the war.

Rocks dig into your knees under the tent floor but you hardly pay them any mind, your clit already throbbing in anticipation of touching him. 

“Fine. But only because it’s faster.” You say.

Your hand curls around him, reveling in the hot, velvety feel of him in your palm. A sound slips from his throat, sudden and unbidden. 

You jerk your head up, and he can’t see your face clearly in the dark, but he knows your body language. The message is solidified when you bring your other hand up to rake through the hair on his chest, digging into his pec in warning. 

Steve’s hand lands on yours, and the warmth seeping through his fingers doesn’t just make your pussy clench, it also makes your nose burn. 

You turn your attention back to stroking him, ignoring the tightness in your lungs. Ignoring the way you’re practically holding hands across his chest.

“God, you’ve been kind of a bitch to me all summer,” Steve grunts, thrusting up into your touch. “You know that?”

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you. “Steve, you can’t call me a bitch at the same time you’re fucking my hand. Either we’re fighting or we’re fucking. Pick one. Jesus.”

“I don’t know.” His head falls back against the ground with a heavy thud. “We’re pretty good at both, apparently. God, your hand feel so g—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Another firework shrieks into the sky, exploding in a loud pop, and showering you both in a flash of red. It lights up Steve’s body, illuminating the scars along his side. Long jagged things, carved deep under his ribs.

You can’t help but remember the panic that seized you when the Demobats descended on him. You’ll never forget the sickening horror that coursed through your body when you looked over to see him pale and shaking, dripping in blood. 

You swallow hard. Then, as if pulled by some invisible string, you lower your head and brush your mouth against his skin. His core muscles flex at the soft glide of your tongue on his belly, but he tenses as your lips trace his scar line.

“Don’t—” he rasps. Suddenly, his hand flies down and tugs your chin away. 

“What?” You whisper against his skin, a little teasing. But when you flick your eyes up to his, he looks away, raking a hand through his hair. Your hand slows around his cock and you frown. A thread of anxiety coils in your gut. 

“What?” you repeat. “I was there, too, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” He lets out a short laugh, but the warmth is gone from his voice. “I just—really don’t want to be reminded of that right now.”

You pull back, hands falling away from him instantly. 

Another bottle rocket screams, punctuating the heavy beat of silence that follows. Steve notices the shift in you, the way your body locks up in hesitation. 

Sighing heavily, he raises his palms to his face and digs them into his eyes. 

“Sorry, I’m—that was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

You sit back on your heels, suddenly unsure, and your eyes drop to the ground. 

He combs through his hair again roughly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I was just…there’s a kid here that reminds me of a little Eddie, and the scars—”

You smile softly. “Reed, right? I’ve been thinking the same thing all summer.”

“Every time I see those scars, I think about the bats, and then I think about losing Eddie, and then with you here—” He gestures towards you and he trails off. 

You don’t need him to finish the thought, though. You can see it in the way his chest heaves, and the slight crack in his voice. 

With a sigh, you settle down onto the ground beside him. He shuffles wordlessly, giving you room to lay on the other half of his sleeping bag. 

“It’s okay, Steve. This is how it always was for us. Just—two people trying to get through it, you know? To feel something again.” 

“Oh yeah? Is that all were?” His voice is deeper now. Huskier. It makes a lump build in your throat. “Was that all it was for you?”

You watch the light show fall across the tent ceiling together, muted little orbs glowing through the fabric. 

“No,” you say softly. “But everything hits me at once sometimes, too, you know. And when that happens...fuck, I just need you. And that feeling…” The words fizzle out and fall like the embers in the sky, and your hand reaches up to clutch at your chest—like it would be easier just to rip out your heart and show him.

Steve hesitates, swallowing hard. “It’s not…bad, right? That feeling?” 

“No, Steve. It’s not bad.” 

A quiet moment passes, then he blows out a breath. “At college, they have these therapists. Robin dragged me to a session once, so I went.” You turn your head to look at him, but he keeps his eyes above. “I was scared, like, what if they didn’t believe me, you know? And, well, I’m not sure if Dr. Treya really believes me, but that doesn’t seem to matter much. She treats it all like it’s true, anyway.”

There’s a loud squeal of a bottle rocket, then laughter somewhere in the distance. 

“I’m sorry we fought the last few weeks,” you whisper. “I was angry. But mostly just hurt. By last summer.”

Steve sits up a little at that, his strong arm bracing his torso as he looks down at you. “And you had every right to be,” he says. “I was a coward for leaving like I did. I got scared, I think. But, I’m getting better. At least, Robin says I am.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure she’s right.”

“But I am sorry, too. For that, and for…just for everything.”

You gaze up at him, and the urge to cup his face and bring his lips down to yours grips you by the spine. But Steve lays back down next to you before you can say anything. 

“I’m proud of you for going to see a counselor,” you say into the dark after a long moment. “Does it help?”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “But I wish there was something I could do, too, you know? Other than just talk about it.” 

He takes the world upon his shoulders, this boy.

He deserves to know that, at the end of the day, someone has him. Someone wants him. Not just for what he can give, but for who he is. He’s been pushing you away because you had that for him, and he didn’t know how to accept it. Until recently. 

You see that now. 

His bare arm is so warm against yours. You follow it down with your fingers until you find his hand, threading your fingers through his. 

“Steve, you’ve already done so much. For everyone.”

His hand practically swallows yours. Long fingers, with blunt tips. They just remind you of all the ways he’s used them to pull orgasms from your body, one after the other.

All he does is give, give, give. Even when you give him hell all summer, fuck, he gives that right back. 

Your hair whispers against the sleeping bag as you turn to look at him. His brown eyes meet yours, and his soft exhale ghosts across your cheek.

You search his face for permission, because he already knows what you’re asking. When his expression softens, just enough, you don’t hesitate. Hooking your leg around his waist, you roll on top of him and sit up. 

“Let me take care of you,” you say.

He sucks in a breath at the sight of you rising above him, his hand coming to land hot and heavy on your thigh. 

Scooting backwards, you lower your mouth to his torso. He hisses, his other hand flying to tangle in your hair. His cock has softened slightly against his hip, but you can fix that with your mouth in no time. 

His chest heaves with a shaky breath. “Wait, no. No, baby.” 

You suck a soft love bite on his hip before raising your eyes to his. “You don’t want it anymore?”

“No—shit, of course I want it, but—” He snorts, but his hand finds yours and he tries to pull you up. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it for real. Not to distract each other. Not like we used to. Can…can you do that?”

You nod once. Then again. “Yes. Yes, of course, Steve. I wasn’t—I was just—” your heart slams into your throat. “I still love you.”

A slow, sweet smile spreads across Steve’s face. Your cheeks flush, and you try to squirm away, but Steve squeezes your thigh, urging you to find his eyes again. And when you do, you see that familiar heat is back. 

“Good,” he says. “Now we can get down to the real question of what the fuck do you think you’re doing barging into my tent when I’m masturbating, you little brat?”

Heat licks up your spine, and you bite back a grin. “I told you! You were being loud.”

“Yeah, sure, now tell me the real reason.”

“That is the real reason!”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

You open your mouth to argue, but his hands clamp down on your hips before you can, and in one smooth motion, he flips you so you’re on your back. Your heart slams against your ribs as he pulls you down under him, his chest rising and falling against yours. 

“Just admit it,” he says, a cocky grin twisting his lips right over yours. “You wanted me to lick that pretty pussy for you, didn’t you?”

Your panties dampen instantly, pulsing in anticipation of feeling his mouth on you after so long. 

You might have been at each other’s throats for weeks, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t like it. You saw it in his eyes by the campfire and by every rough two-hand touch football game. Every time your face went red and you mouthed off at him he’d just smile and lift his eyebrows as if to say, ‘is that all you got?’ Maybe crook two fingers at you with a cocky tilt of his head, urging you to ‘give me more.’ 

Well, you could definitely give him more. 

“I don’t know, Harrington,” you sigh, tilt your head against the tent floor in mock confusion. “I hardly remember what getting head from you is like.”

His grin turns wicked. Then suddenly, he’s moving—greedy hands tugging at your shorts. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, voice dripping in that mocking tone that always makes you wet. “I thought maybe you’d want me to do that thing my tongue that always—” A whimper escapes your throat and he breaks off mid-sentence with an openmouthed laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He crawls down your body, taking your shorts and underwear with him, and you gasp when something hard and hot brushes your thigh. Glad to see he’s sporting that erection again. You feel a fleeting disappointment at the fact you haven’t gotten to suck him off yet, but it’s probably better this way, to be honest. 

It’s literally impossible to make Steve Harrington be quiet while getting a blowjob—

Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep into your slick channel. Your breath stutters, hips bucking into his palm on instinct. He groans out loud, but you’re too blissed out by the stretch that you can’t even get onto him for it. 

Lungs seizing, heart pounding, you squirm on the slippery fabric of his sleeping bag, trying to get even closer. Your nipples harden against your T-shirt, begging for his touch. For more of him.

You peek down your body just in time to see his head disappear between your thighs, and then his mouth is on you. God, his tongue is so warm and wet against your clit, and his skillful fingers stroke you just right. In and out, then curling into the spongey spot inside that has your mouth dropping open. 

“Missed those sounds you make,” he says, voice muffled against your pussy. 

Shit. 

You hadn’t even realized you were making noise. You dig your knee into his side in retaliation and he chuckles, squirming away before diving in again.

He licks messy, broad strokes, tasting you on purpose, getting you all over his tongue. When you grind up into his face he grabs you by the hips and moves with you, following your every wriggle and writhe. 

Yep, his mouth still makes the world feel dull, reducing your hearing to the whoosh of your heartbeat in your ears as everything else just fades away into mind numbing bliss—

“Shut up,” Steve says, pulls back from you with a wicked grin. His face is covered in your arousal, glinting in the firework light, and the sight makes you clench around his fingers. “Seriously, shut up if you don’t want them to hear you.” 

“Wha—Steve!” You whine, canting your hips up into his mouth again as he lowers himself back down to you. “H-help.”

He shrugs. “I’m not the one who gives a shit if they hear.”

The vibrations of his voice against your clit rips a moan from your throat, unbidden, and your lips cinch together. Your hand flies to your hip, finding his fingers there. You try to pull his hand up but he shakes off your touch, holding onto your waist and puling you roughly against his tongue. 

You whine in protest, and go to pull on his hand again, but that’s a mistake. 

He brings his palm down to your inner thigh with a sharp smack that has your back arching off the ground, your eyes narrowing in warning. 

“Cover your own mouth, sweetheart, fuck,” he chuckles, giving your clit a soothing series of licks. “I’m busy.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper, but it quickly turns into a needy whine when he sucks the swollen nub into his mouth. 

Steve continues to stretch you out on his fingers, murmuring dirty things into your pussy as he does. How sweet you taste. How tightly you’re squeezing his fingers. But you barely hear any of it. 

You’re so wet—both from his mouth and your arousal—that your inner thighs slick together when you try to squeeze them. He yanks your legs apart again, and you’re powerless to stop him because the pads of his fingers are dragging out tendrils of pleasure from your spine you haven’t felt in a year. 

Thankfully, the fireworks seem to be reaching a peak outside— loud bangs and pops going off every few seconds help drown out the sounds of your needy pussy and blissed-out sighs. Because frankly, you don’t have the brain power to think about anything except how desperately you need him inside you. 

You whimper again accidentally. “Steve—” 

“Okay, baby,” he replies instantly, knowing what you need by the tone in your voice alone. His fingers slip out and he rises up over you, your knees falling open eagerly as he lines himself up.

When he notches the tip of his cock at your entrance, your cunt greedily sucks him in. He gasps, hips bucking forward instinctively, and neither one of you are able to stop the mixed groans that ensue from finally, finally being connected like this again after so long. 

Big hands scramble for a hold on your waist, blunt nails pinching your skin as he drags himself back, then forth, slamming up into you with a depth that makes you sob.

“Still fuckin’ made for me,” he groans. “Goddamnit.”

You’re panting, arms wrapped around his shoulders, biting the skin of your forearm to keep from moaning as his hips roll slow and deliberate. 

“Good girl,” he praises, and you shudder, feeling the ache grow sharper. “Staying so quiet, look at you. You can’t ask me to be silent when you come around me, okay? Fuck—that’s like being tortured all over again.”

You shoot him a withering look even as you writhe underneath him. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs, and his silhouette shifts over you, his cock driving deeper and hitting that spot inside you that makes you see sparks that aren’t there. “Sorry, sweetheart. I just—oh yeah, grind that clit into me. That’s it.”

 Your hands rake through his hair, desperately trying to hold onto something. But the force behind his thrusts causes you to pull on the strands, and, well, that was a mistake. 

His teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder in order to stay somewhat quiet, and oh—fuck. How could you have forgotten what pulling his hair does to him? Stars burst behind your eyes as the fireworks crackle overhead, and the tension between your hips coils tighter. 

“Fuck—Steve,” you gush. “Please.”

“What do you need?” He rasps against your throat, sucking and biting. “I’m all yours.”

Little tremors course though your legs as your orgasm builds, the swollen head of his cock nudging those spots deep inside that ache for him. 

Only him.

“You need me to kiss you?” he says, breath hot in your ear. “Need me to shut you up?”

You nod frantically. 

“Go on, ask me for it.”

You whimper, too far gone to play the game anymore. “Kiss me, Stevie. Please, please—” 

“Fuck,” Steve groans at the nickname he hasn’t heard in so long, and instantly lowers his mouth to yours. 

The first brush of his lips against yours makes you want to cry. 

“Missed you, baby,” he says, then kisses you deeper, his tongue dipping into your mouth and swirling with yours. “So much. Missed kissing you. Missed talking with you.” He hesitates, pulling back slightly before planting one soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Missed loving you. But I guess I never really stopped, did I?”

Your eyes connect for one heartbreaking, devestatingly sweet second before you pull him back down, pouring your love for him into the gentle, yet desperate stroke of your tongue against his. 

Feeling you kiss him like that snaps something deep inside him. 

Your inner muscles clamps down around him as his thrusts turn messy and hard, and his hands run over your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, pulling your body back down to meet his every thrust. 

The pleasure builds to an insurmountable level as he rips your shirt up to capture your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and making you want to scream. 

You flatten your palm over your lips, whimpering through the gaps in your fingers over and over, squeezing your eyes shut as Steve pushes you higher and higher until finally—you’re falling. 

Your teeth bite into your fingers hard to muffle your moans as your pussy clenches down like a vice on Steve’s cock rhythmically, your orgasm rushing through you. 

He lets out a choked sound above you, and with the way his chest falls in a sequence of familiar pants, you know he’s close. Through the pleasured haze, your other hand flies to cover his mouth just in time for his orgasm to hit. 

“Mmhmm, mhhhmm.” Steve whines loudly, as his body tenses, and his cock twitches inside you. And you have no choice but to shove your fingers inside his lips, forcing him to suck on them as he reaches his peak. His eyes roll back as he bullies his cock against your cervix, painting your walls with his come, even as his tongue strokes your knuckles tenderly and reverently.

It takes awhile for the both of you to come back down to earth, but eventually, you let your fingers fall from his mouth and he laughs breathlessly, dipping to give you one last slow kiss before slipping out of you. 

He fumbles around for his T-shirt in the darkness and then cleans you up with care, which makes your heart twist. Once he’s done, he settles on his side, and pulls you into him, your back pressed to his chest. You burrow into him, his arm settling around you, and it’s amazing how quickly your lashes start to fall, wrapped up in this familiar comfort. 

“So…truce?” Steve whispers into the crook of your shoulder. You laugh softly.

Even under a hazardously leaning tent, and a sky littered with mini explosions, the world seems a little less dark right now. The past, a little less heavy. 

Maybe it’s because neither of you are running away from it, anymore. But rather, facing it. Together.

And because you know, without a shadow of a doubt, Steve Harrington’s heartbeat will always be in your future.

“Truce.”

a/n: the tent definitely collapses on top of them five minutes later, by the way. also, my idea originally was not nearly as angsty, but don’t you just love it when characters highjack your story? god, the fics always turn out so much better that way.

The sound of your door shutting behind you resonated loudly throughout your apartment. Finally out of reach from the world outside, your shoulders let go of some tension that you had harbored all day as they immediately started to hang lower. You dropped your bag carelessly on the floor next to the pair of shoes you had just taken off, before sinking further into your space.

A ball of black and white fur quickly made its way through your legs, rubbing its coat against your calves and purring. At least someone’s happy to see me.

You bent over and picked him up, scrubbing his chin lovingly. “Hey, Sergio. Had a good day?”

Sergio meowled quietly, nuzzling into your hand, before you dropped him back on the ground. “Let’s get you fed, big boy.”

Your routine quickly kicked in, familiar and grounding – feed Sergio a can of soft cat food, feed yourself whatever’s left in the fridge, get undressed, take a shower, put on comfy clothes, make a cup of warm tea, and settle in front of your computer monitor for the rest of the night. Easy. No place for your mind to stray. In theory.

Except lately, your carefully curated regimen was beginning to feel like it wasn’t enough. Which was deeply annoying, because you were making really good progress – you had found healthy ways to manage your anxiety, had gotten yourself a steady job that paid decently well even though it was boring, and you had finally started feeling like you were slowly getting your spark back. But there was still something that kept bothering you, so you decided to bring it up at your next appointment with Mrs. Grant, the social worker you were seeing. Well, Jenna, actually, since she had insisted you call her by her first name.

“I don’t know, it’s odd… I’ve always been pretty introverted and comfortable being alone. But lately, I’m doing better and all, and… it’s like I want someone to notice it? I guess I’m just starting to feel kinda lonely instead of just alone.”

Jenna hummed and nodded her head, her expression open as understanding flashed across her features. “Sometimes, people change. It’s not because you’ve been one way all your life that you’ll stay like that for the rest of it. It’s fluid, right?”

You thought about her words, and it hit you that you had talked about this before with her, but with your anxiety. One of your concerns in the beginning was that you’d always feel stressed out, that you’d never change. But you had.

You nodded, looking at the plant next to your seat that always felt safer to stare at when you spoke. “Yeah… It’s just, I don’t really know how I would even start to make friends. S’kinda awkward at my age. And I think I still have a long way to go in terms of healing and bettering myself.”

Jenna tilted her head slightly. “Hm… I hear you when you say it can be daunting. Have you thought of ways you could meet people?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I work alone most of the time, so I don’t really have any cool coworkers. And I don’t really go out.”

Jenna hummed again and shifted in her seat. “Let me ask you this. Do you want me to listen right now, or do you want me to brainstorm ideas with you?”

You loved when she checked in like that. “I’d love ideas,” you said with a slight smile.

Jenna nodded and took the time to think, looking up before her gaze landed back on you. “Well, there might be a way to start without much pressure.”

You frowned slightly. “Yeah? How?”

She saw how the hour was almost up in her peripheral vision before she spoke again. “There are a few local forums with strict guidelines that are basically support groups for people dealing with things like you do : anxiety, ADHD, self-bettering endeavours, you name it. Maybe it could be a way for you to talk to new people without much stake, and to share experiences.”

Your face relaxed, but you still looked skeptical. An online forum? Really? In this day and age? Still, you didn’t shut down her idea and you nodded faintly. “Yeah, I guess I could try.”

She scribbled the name of a forum on a piece of paper. “We’re gonna have to stop here for today, but here is one that I know of. I’m sure there are more but just make sure there are rules and stuff if you find some. It’s still the internet.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in amusement as you took the note from her. “Will do. Thank you, Jenna.”

She smiled at you as she got up. “Same time next week?”

“I’ll be there.”

****

The idea swam in your mind for a few days. A forum. It felt odd to picture yourself talking to an anonymous person while revealing the most intimate parts of yourself – your self-doubt, anxiety, loneliness... But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that it intrigued you. Maybe you could treat it as a practice run for the real deal. Maybe, in the future, when you meet someone cool at a pottery class or something, you’d look back on your forum chatting days and be glad that you took the leap.

It was that feeling that inhabited your ribcage as you finally got home. Your day at work had been gruelling, more demanding than usual.

Pick up Sergio, give him a few scratches, feed him, sort of feed yourself, shower, computer.

You looked around your purse and pulled out the slightly crumpled piece of paper that Jenna had given you. Your very own middle-of-nowhere-town’s self-help and mental health support forum.

You stared at the note, chewing on your bottom lip. “Let’s just check it out,” you mumbled under your breath before typing the name of the forum in the search bar of your favorite browser.

Not shockingly, it was the first result on the list.

You clicked on the blue link, before being greeted by a retro looking page detailing the rules and guidelines for using the forum.

Welcome! This forum is meant to be a space where residents of our community can anonymously talk to each other and offer support, advice and share experiences. Any use of this forum for differing purposes is prohibited and could result in a permanent ban. Here are the rules to follow :

Users must be at least 18 years of age.

Respect is of utmost importance. Any disrespectful interaction will get the user suspended.

This is an anonymous forum, meaning that any reveal in identity is prohibited to ensure the safety of all users.

If you witness any worrying behavior, please flag it to the site’s moderator in our contact info.

Thank you and start chatting!

God, even the welcoming message is kind of dorky. You clicked the ‘start chatting’ button and it took you to a page with three empty bars – username, password, and password confirmation.

You sighed and looked around your room for inspiration. You couldn’t put your name, because it had to be anonymous. You eyed the glittery stickers on your speaker until you felt Sergio’s tail brush the back of your knee. You looked between your legs with a smile.

Username : Sergio’s_Servant

You erased it immediately after seeing how insane it looked written down, cringing at yourself. “Oh my god, way too BDSM-y.”

Your gaze then bounced between the three different cups of water, coffee and juice on your desk. You tried again.

Username : HydratedCatMom

You snorted. “Sure, whatever,” you said as you created your password, not certain you could come up with anything better if you were to think about it longer.

As you entered the forum, the simplicity of it hit you first. There was a general chat that looked like it had been dead for ages – the last message on it went back to two years ago. The aesthetic of the whole site was overall gray with a bit of blue, very early Microsoft core. “Amazing,” you said sarcastically, already feeling like this was a complete waste of time.

You noticed a few more specialized or ‘problem specific’ chats in a menu to the left. You clicked on the one titled ‘Self-Help’.

Your eyebrows pulled together softly. You found a chat with a few three-year-old messages between two users named HarleyD123 and Smile2000. It seemed like a normal conversation – people talking about their problems and tricks they had found helped them. What really surprised you, though, was the last message of the chat – a five-days-old one.

HalfBaked_T : Hi! Anyone still using this chat?

The username made a small smile pull at your lips. You tilted your head, staring at the question like it was a puzzle you were unsure how to solve. On one hand, you could simply leave the site and ignore it. No one would know, you would find other ways to talk to people, no big deal. On the other hand, you could finally get out of your comfort zone and greet the person back. You would probably never even get a response, since it had already been five days since they’d written that, and you could at least say you had tried.

You started typing.

HydratedCatMom : Hey! I don’t know if you’ll see this but I’m here! :)

Before you could second guess yourself, you pressed ‘send’ and laid back in your chair, immediately grabbing your reusable water bottle to busy your hands. Simultaneously, Sergio meowled from his place on your bed, almost like he was congratulating you.

****

Ping.

Travis looked up from his book, brows furrowed and mouth frowning slightly.

“What the hell’s that?”

His feet fell from his work desk as he looked at the computer where the sound had come from. It usually stayed silent, so this was new.

He grabbed the mouse and clicked through the multiple opened pages – recipes, directions, questionable searches – you name it. Everyone that used this computer had a habit of never closing the pages because of that one time Travis accidentally pressed ‘X’ on one of Griffin’s searches and the latter blew up in Teacake’s face.

He finally landed on the page responsible for the sound – that self-help forum he had found while browsing for used books in the area – where he had written a message even though it had looked completely abandoned out of sheer curiosity.

His eyes widened when he saw someone had answered him.

“HydratedCatMom?” He chuckled under his breath, picturing a lonely fifty-something woman with six cats.

Still, he felt good that someone saw and took the time to answer him. He cracked his knuckles and buried his hands in his grown-out bleached hair, before he started typing.

HydratedCatMom : Hey! I don’t know if you’ll see this but I’m here! :)

HalfBaked_T : Woah, I really didn’t expect anyone to answer haha

You got the message relatively quickly, maybe a few minutes after yours, and it made you pause. You weren’t expecting it either. A warm and uncomfortable feeling bloomed in your chest, one that you were painfully familiar with. You started taking slow and deep breaths, speaking softly to yourself. “’Kay, you’re okay. You’re just talking to someone. It’s good. It’s what you wanted. It’s normal to feel anxious and it’ll pass.”

You stared at the screen before deciding to type.

HydratedCatMom : Oh! Me neither haha

It didn’t take long before you got an answer.

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, this chat is pretty lame

HalfBaked_T : Not that you’re lame for using it!

HalfBaked_T : I just mean it was literally abandoned

HalfBaked_T : And like, I’m using it so if you’re lame then I’m lame too

HalfBaked_T : Okay, sorry. I’ll stop now

You giggled to yourself as you saw the panicked messages pop up on your screen. Maybe the person behind the funny username was just as nervous as you were. For some reason, that made you feel better.

HydratedCatMom : Haha don’t worry, it’s fine. I am kinda lame

HalfBaked_T : Come on, I’m sure you aren’t. So… what brings you here?

You took a deep breath, leaning back into your desk chair and looking up at the ceiling. You wanted to be truthful, but you also didn’t know how much you were willing to say for a first conversation.

HydratedCatMom : I’ve been working on myself a lot. Anxiety and whatnot. And I wanted to try to start talking to people since I’ve been feeling like I don’t have that many friends. You?

You cringed a bit, but you stuck with it as you sent the message.

HalfBaked_T : Oh, I get that. It’s not really easy to make new friends

HalfBaked_T : I read a lot of self-help books. Did some stuff I’m not proud of and I’m trying to stand up for myself and think things through instead of just diving headfirst

Travis covered his mouth with his hand and rubbed at his jaw as he stared at his last message. Was it too ominous?

“‘Stuff I’m not proud of’, they could think I’m a freakin' murderer or somethin',” he mumbled when he saw that you hadn’t answered yet. He quickly started typing again.

HalfBaked_T : It’s nothing that bad, I swear!

HalfBaked_T : Just went to prison for a little while

HalfBaked_T : Damn it, I keep making it worse for myself

HalfBaked_T : Let’s just say that if your “friend” asks you to stay behind the wheel while they make a quick run into the gas station… don’t do it

HalfBaked_T : Basically, I’m too gullible and I’m trying not to be

He stood up then, a frustrated huff leaving him as his hands dragged down his face. “Can’t even shut the hell up via textin', man.”

It took a minute. A long minute where he convinced himself he had basically ruined his chances of having a conversation with the stranger.

But then, he heard the soft ping come through the busted speakers of the work computer again.

HydratedCatMom : Hey, I get it. I’ve made mistakes before too

Travis stared at your message for a while, blinking confusedly. He had not expected this unknown person to be so understanding, especially not about how their new pen pal was an ex-convict.

HalfBaked_T : You don’t mind?

HydratedCatMom : Not really. It’s not like I’ll meet you and if you’re trying to work on yourself, then I’m right there with you

HalfBaked_T : Oh, yeah. Well thanks for not freaking out :)

HalfBaked_T : And to go back on what you said, as for feeling lonely, I get it.

HalfBaked_T : Been cutting some bad influences from my life and I realize now that there haven’t been many good ones

HydratedCatMom : I can understand that. Sounds like we’re in a similar situation after all

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, I think so :)

Travis smiled at the screen, feeling weirdly content. “Well alright, HydratedCatMom,” he said to himself, slightly surprised.

You grinned too, Sergio now curled up in your lap as you petted his head. Maybe this forum thing wasn’t as bad an idea as you thought it was at first.

HydratedCatMom : I gotta get some sleep, but I’ll be back tomorrow, same time if you wanna keep chatting

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, that’s cool! I work nights and it’s pretty boring, so I’ll be here

HydratedCatMom : Cool, later then :)

HalfBaked_T : bye :)

As you shut off your computer, you were left with an interesting feeling inside your chest. The anxiety had dulled down now that you had actually taken the first step and chatted with someone. But there was still a slight buzzing sensation beneath your skin. Maybe a mix of the lingering stress and the excitement of talking to someone new.

It took you longer to fall asleep. Sergio was curled up behind your knees as you laid on your side – the melatonin pill you had taken a minute ago slowly dissolving under your tongue in an effort to try and jumpstart your sleepiness. Were you making a mistake? Was it a good idea to chat with an ex-convict? You weren’t one to judge people, and it didn’t seem like they had done a violent crime. But people lied all the time.

Thoughts kept bouncing around your head, but they started to make less and less sense. They blurred into each other until it was unclear if you were awake or dreaming, and then your alarm went off.

****

As Travis got to work the next day – or well, the next night – he waved off his coworker and settled at his desk. He immediately pulled up the forum.

There were no new messages. “Hm.”

He leaned back in the desk chair, his arms coming up so his fingers intertwined and cradled the back of his head. He talked to himself quietly. “Yeah, no worries. It was a little later when she wrote last night.”

He went to start typing but he stopped himself, tilting his head like a puppy. “She? Do I even know that? Oh. Cat mom. Right. Probably a she, but who knows.”

HalfBaked_T : Hello again? :)

About 45 minutes later, your reply came.

HydratedCatMom : Hiya!

HalfBaked_T : Had a good day at work?

HalfBaked_T : Assuming you work

HydratedCatMom : Yeah, I work :) It was okay, pretty boring. You’re at work now, right?

Travis wanted to ask you what you did for work, but he wondered if that was going against the forum’s rules, so he didn’t.

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, boring too

HalfBaked_T : So, apart from this, do you have any plans on how to meet new people?

HydratedCatMom : I’m not too sure, actually. I don’t have many coworkers, and I don’t really know where I’d start :/

HalfBaked_T : It’s so hard when we’re older, right?

HalfBaked_T : Like are we just supposed to go up to people and say hi?

HalfBaked_T : Like, I can do that. I talk A LOT. But people usually find it weird or off-putting I guess when they don’t know me

HalfBaked_T : Even when they know me too, to be fair

HalfBaked_T : They don’t really stick around

HydratedCatMom : I feel like if someone did that to me, it would be way easier haha I could just lay back and listen

HydratedCatMom : For me, going up to someone randomly is crazy stressful

HalfBaked_T : Oh I didn’t think of that! But yeah, with your anxiety and all that, I bet it’s hard

HalfBaked_T : We’d make a good team tho

HalfBaked_T : Like I start talking and you tell me when to shut up haha

Their reply made you laugh – a strong belly one – startling Sergio as he took off running under the bed. “Oh, sorry baby!” You bent slightly to see his shiny green eyes staring you down from under your unmade resting place. The forum quickly came back into your mind and pulled you away from your ungrateful son with an amused scoff.

“We’d make a good team tho.” You tried to picture it, but you quickly ran into a problem. You didn’t know who they were. What they looked like. You didn’t even know if you were talking to a man or a woman or someone that doesn’t define themselves as such. Your curiosity grew, but you were too shy to actually ask.

HydratedCatMom : Haha that would definitely help me actually

HydratedCatMom : You’re funny :)

HalfBaked_T : Thanks haha

HalfBaked_T : But I’m just a guy who talks too much

“Oh, so he’s a guy. Good to know, I guess,” you said quietly to yourself, popping another piece of chocolate into your mouth from the candy bar you had gotten yourself as a little treat earlier.

HydratedCatMom : I saw online that a good way to meet people would be to join a class or a club or something

HalfBaked_T : I guess that’s fair

HalfBaked_T : Cause then you know you at least have one thing in common, right?

HalfBaked_T : Makes conversation easier

You found yourself smiling a bit to yourself, enjoying having this exchange with a total stranger. It felt good to talk to someone that wasn’t your therapist and that you didn’t have to speak to for your job or for the sake of being polite at the grocery store.

HydratedCatMom : Yeah exactly

HydratedCatMom : Been thinking about joining this pottery class downtown. I walk by the studio sometimes and it looks fun, but all the people look so cool haha It kinda intimidates me

HalfBaked_T : Pottery’s cool

HalfBaked_T : I’m sure someone would talk to you :)

HydratedCatMom : IDK… I feel like everyone knows everyone else already and I’d just be kinda awkward in a corner lol

HalfBaked_T : Oh I get it, kinda like arriving in the middle of the school year and all the cliques are already formed so you have nowhere to go

HalfBaked_T : Valid fear

HalfBaked_T : But you would probably have to go in order to know, right?

HydratedCatMom : Yeah, I guess so

HydratedCatMom : But I don’t feel ready yet I think :/

HalfBaked_T : That’s okay :)

HalfBaked_T : I could really take example on you and how you think things through haha

His reply made you pause and tilt your head. It was the first time someone had told you that what you considered a character flaw of yours could actually be a positive trait. Sure, thorough thinking and anxiety are two different things, but it is a fact that you don’t make rash decisions. You’re good at analyzing and trying to figure out what’s right.

The corners of your lips pulled up, and your cheeks reddened slightly.

HydratedCatMom : Never saw it like that actually

Travis’ eyebrows furrowed and created a shallow crease in the middle of his forehead, his fingers rubbing absently at the stubble on his jaw. Can she really not see that?

HalfBaked_T : Like what?

HalfBaked_T : Like a quality? Cause to me, it is

HalfBaked_T : I used to be a terminal ‘Yes man’, like anyone would ask me to do something and I’d just go for it, no questions asked

HalfBaked_T : And it’s been hard to try and settle down and ask myself if I actually should do it

HalfBaked_T : Maybe I don’t need to do this really dumb thing just cause someone asked me to, you know?

HalfBaked_T : Anyway, sorry, I’m rambling again. Basically, I talk way too much and think too little, and I’m working on it.

HalfBaked_T : So yeah. I find it impressive that it seems to come naturally to you

His strong hands gripped his thighs as he shook his head a little, feeling like maybe you’ll finally get bored of him and tell him to shut up like everyone else does.

HydratedCatMom : Well, I feel like it’s not all black and white. I can quickly start overthinking and trigger my anxiety, and I wish I could have some of your spontaneity. So don’t be so hard on yourself :)

His grip loosened, a warm feeling spreading inside his chest and making him relax slightly in the desk chair. His chin tucked gently into his zip-up Atchison Storage jacket, his teeth catching on the zipper.

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, I guess you’re right :)

HydratedCatMom : I gotta get some sleep. Same time tmrw? Only if you want, of course

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, okay!

HydratedCatMom : Night!

HalfBaked_T : Night :)

****

For about a week and a half, chatting with this anonymous guy became routine. You woke up in the morning eager to go to work, just so you could come back home and exchange messages with him. You both had started to learn things about the other – things that didn’t really threaten the whole anonymity of the site. He had learned your cat is named Sergio and that you love him very much. You had picked up on the fact that he likes to read horror books. The conversations became less and less about self-help and seeking advice, and more and more about talking to a friend.

And when you saw Jenna again, you told her all about it. She listened to you with a soft smile on her face, her head nodding gently. She could see your excitement at getting to know someone new, even if you kept saying it wasn’t for real.

“Why do you keep saying that?” She asked, head tilted. She didn’t sound accusing, just curious.

“Say what?” You tried to clarify, brows pulled in.

“That it’s ‘not for real’ or it ‘doesn’t count’?”

You broke eye contact with her, looking at the ground as you thought about it. “I don’t know… Well, I do. It’s the anonymous part. Like I don’t know him for real, you know? I can’t be friends with him if I don’t know who he is.”

You thought you were making sense, and she hummed and nodded as if you were. But then what she said made you see it differently.

“It sounds like you know him pretty well now except for his name and face. I feel like knowing someone like you do that man online is a better basis for friendship than ‘identity’.”

“Huh.” You looked at her with wide eyes before a soft smile bloomed on your lips.

****

SLAM!

The sound of your door forcefully closing reverberated throughout your whole apartment building. You tossed your bag on the ground, groaning loudly. Your clothes and your hair were dripping wet, creating puddles in your entryway as Sergio looked at you warily from around the corner of the hallway. Even he, your usually affectionate cat, didn’t want to come closer. What a shit day.

A few hours earlier, you had been driving home from work in the pouring rain. The water had been falling in long ropes and pretty much had made it impossible to see where you’d been going, even with your wipers at full speed. And even though you had been driving slowly, your tire still had managed to get snagged against something sharp and you had gotten a flat.

With no roadside assistance, and a father who had insisted you learn how to change a tire when you first left to live on your own, you had gotten out of your car and went to work. But even in perfectly normal weather, it would have taken you a long time. You had only done it once with your dad and that had been probably like 6 years ago.

So, by the time you were done and finally home, you were completely drenched and in a bad fucking mood.

You quickly got out of your wet clothes once you got inside your apartment and you placed them in your dryer. The warm water from your shower almost felt like it was nagging you – Oh, now you want to get wet? Stupid fucking water.

Once you finally got around to feed Sergio, it was basically time for you to go to bed. But you saw the forum page that you now always left open on your computer, and two messages were waiting for you.

HalfBaked_T : Hey Hydra! :)

You were usually the one who would write first because he knew you had to get home before you could chat. He had written that about thirty minutes later than your normal starting time. Fuck. Your heart broke a little, imagining this faceless man waiting for you to come online.

And then the other message, written about an hour after the first one, just really made you feel even worse.

HalfBaked_T : You there?

You quickly started to type, hoping that he hadn’t logged off for the night.

HydratedCatMom : Hey T! Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA, I got a flat and I had to change it myself and it was pouring rain outside, it took me like 3 hours

You didn’t notice how your leg was bouncing and your hand went to twirl that piece of hair at the base of your neck. You were anxious. You didn’t want to lose your friend.

****

The book was in his hands. Opened, even. But he wasn’t reading it.

The uneasy feeling that had settled inside him when you hadn’t reached out first kept festering as you continued to not reply to him. He worried that maybe he had been too intense – he had even skimmed over your conversations of the past few days trying to see where he could have gone wrong before he had settled on reading to stop thinking about it.

“Fuckin' hell, man,” he said under his breath, giving up and closing his book. His head lolled back against the headrest of the chair, his eyes fixing on a pipe on the ceiling. Everyone thinks I’m too much.

But then, ping!

He sat up so quickly that he almost gave himself whiplash, the desk chair protesting under the speediness of his actions. He rolled toward the computer and as soon as he saw your message, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

HydratedCatMom : Hey T! Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA, I got a flat and I had to change it myself and it was pouring rain outside, it took me like 3 hours

HalfBaked_T : Hey it’s okay! No worries

Play it cool, Teacake.

HalfBaked_T : It’s not like you have to talk to me haha

Stupid.

HalfBaked_T : Not that I don’t want you to!

HalfBaked_T : Jesus haha ok sorry

HalfBaked_T : I was just worried for a sec that you got tired of me rambling too much haha

Your heart unclenched as his replies came in. He’s not mad at me.

Sergio finally deemed you safe enough to approach as he jumped up in your lap. His tail brushed under your arm, and you gave him a few pets before you replied to the man you now referred to as ‘T’.

HydratedCatMom : No never. I felt so bad leaving you in the dark, I’m sorry!

HydratedCatMom : By the way, you keep saying stuff like that. Are you really that scared people will think you’re too much?

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, well they usually do

HalfBaked_T : In real life I mean

HydratedCatMom : Have people told you that before?

HalfBaked_T : Yup. All the time

And that’s all he wrote, like the topic being brought up was enough to make him self-conscious. You could almost feel him physically holding himself back from replying again.

HydratedCatMom : That’s mean :( Please don’t hold back with me, okay?

HalfBaked_T : Okay :)

HalfBaked_T : But don’t hesitate to tell me if I’m too much, I can take it I swear

HydratedCatMom : You’re not too much, T :)

HalfBaked_T : Well now I don’t know what to say lol

HalfBaked_T : But thank you Hydra :) means a lot

You went to bed not too long after, feeling exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions of the day. But even after everything, it was with a pleasant feeling in your chest that you found sleep. You were pretty sure you could call T your friend now. Jenna had been right, knowing someone’s real-life identity isn’t necessary. The thought made you smile.

At work, Travis was also smiling. Someone finally didn’t think that he was being too much. Granted, you had never talked to him in person, so you didn’t know what an unfiltered conversation with him truly looked like, but still. It had to count for something, right?

****

It was a week later – a week filled with sometimes insightful and sometimes boring conversation – when you noticed a new tiny red banner at the top of the site.

This forum will be shut down in 5 days, accompanied by an ominous countdown until then.

Your heart squeezed uncomfortably as you took in the news.

HydratedCatMom : Hey T! Are you seeing that banner?

HalfBaked_T : Yo Hydra! Yeah, I just saw that

HydratedCatMom : Damn haha

For a second, you weren’t sure how to feel. Chatting with someone online was supposed to be a way for you to break the ice of starting to meet new people. Surely, you had done that already, and you should be making plans to maybe join that pottery class you were thinking about. The forum was an experiment; it shouldn’t bother you that it was coming to an end. Nevertheless, you considered T to be your friend now. You didn’t want to lose that relationship just because this stupidly old website was now being shut down.

You had no clue how to voice that to him though. Did he see you as a friend? Would he think that it was weird that you were feeling attached to your friendship? You didn’t have much time to ask yourself all of those questions before he replied.

HalfBaked_T : I’m really bummed about that

HalfBaked_T : I kinda see you as a friend now, we’ve talked about so much stuff haha

HalfBaked_T : Sorry if that’s weird, I don’t know if you feel like that or not

HalfBaked_T : But yeah, don’t really wanna stop talking with you

A soft breath escaped your lips as they curved upward. The fact that he felt the same eased that pang of anxiety that had taken root inside your ribcage at the sight of that red warning.

HydratedCatMom : I feel the same, actually. I’m kinda glad you do too haha

HydratedCatMom : Maybe we could find a way to talk another way?

HalfBaked_T : Yeah!

HalfBaked_T : Don’t know how tho, they really push the whole anonymity thing

HalfBaked_T : Maybe we could find another forum?

You thought about his proposition and for some reason, it didn’t feel as satisfying as it should. It was an easy solution to your problem – find another forum, keep up the anonymity, keep chatting with your friend – Perfect.

So why was there that nagging feeling at the back of your brain?

HydratedCatMom : I mean, we definitely could. But I also just got an idea…

HalfBaked_T : Oh! Do tell :)

HydratedCatMom : Maybe it’s crazy and you can say no obviously

HydratedCatMom : Do you know Copperwood Park?

HalfBaked_T : Yeah, the one with the little ice cream shop?

HalfBaked_T : What about it?

HydratedCatMom : Yeah, that one :)

HydratedCatMom : Is it like totally crazy if I leave a paper with my number tucked somewhere and you could go get it?

The minutes ticked by with no reply from T.

Sergio was ogling you with concern from his perch on the windowsill as you started picking at the skin of your fingers – a regulating habit that you never quite shook off in moments of pressure.

You were halfway convinced that your proposition had scared him off into oblivion, and that he was not going to reply to you again, but then you heard the satisfying ping come in.

HalfBaked_T : Woah, kinda like those new escape rooms they got now

HalfBaked_T : I think they lock you in a cage and you’re like supposed to solve a puzzle or something just to get out

HalfBaked_T : Oh and they have all those horror-themed ones that look cool, you know?

You giggled softly as you read his oncoming messages, your hand lowering from the previous assault of your teeth on the raw skin.

HalfBaked_T : Anyway, I digress

HalfBaked_T : And sorry for the long reply btw, had a client come in which doesn’t happen often this time of night

HalfBaked_T : But, yeah. I’m down if you’re down :)

HydratedCatMom : Awesome! Do you know that green bench by the stream?

HalfBaked_T : Yeah! Smoked my first… “bad” cig there haha

You laughed at that, understanding the innuendo for ‘joint’ easily. You had noticed that T sometimes seemed to filter himself and his language, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the ‘respect’ rules of the forum or if he was just like that.

HydratedCatMom : lol

HydratedCatMom : I’ll leave it under it like tucked somewhere. On my way to work tomorrow?

HalfBaked_T : Sounds good :) I’ll pick it up on my way to work as well

HalfBaked_T : You sure you’re okay with that?

HydratedCatMom : To be honest, I am a little nervous, but I feel like we’re friends so yeah. I’m sure :)

HalfBaked_T : Of course we’re friends :)

****

Your hands shook gently as you gripped the paper, your feet carrying you toward the green wooden bench next to the little stream meandering through Copperwood park. The slightly nipping cold of the early morning wasn’t to blame for your trembling, though.

Your mind was racing. Were you really about to do this? Anyone could stumble upon it and text you. Was this completely stupid?

However, as the long seat took more and more real estate in your field of vision, you pushed it all down. You repeated to yourself like a mantra that you were going to be okay, and that you really wanted to keep talking with T in an easier manner. This was the solution for that.

You safely tucked the white piece of paper under the bench – in a little crevice in the wood that looked like it was made exactly for that – and then you left to go to work. A soft buzzing sensation accompanied you inside your chest for the rest of the day, but you decided to perceive it as excitement instead of anxiety.

****

The soft and calming voice of the woman narrating the self-help podcast abruptly cut off as Travis turned the key in the ignition. “Alright, let’s see this,” he said to himself, unwilling to feel too hopeful in case you hadn’t actually left your number.

His hands were buried inside of his work vest’s pockets as he walked from the small parking lot to the lonely green bench. After sitting down and fumbling around, he laughed softly to himself as he found the paper. He unfolded it and read the little note that accompanied your number.

Hey, T! This it it :)

A soft smile spread on his face at the sight of your handwriting. It was a little more crooked than what he was expecting, for some reason, but that made him feel more at ease with the whole situation. It made it more real.

He created a new contact in his phone named ‘Hydra’ before tucking the piece of paper safely in his pocket. He shot you a quick text as he made his way back to his car.

****

It was nearing the end of your shift – your feet were killing you and you were tired. You almost didn’t feel the buzz against your behind over the faint thrum of excitement that had followed you all day, even if it was dampening slightly now because of your sleepy state.

You pulled out your phone and saw a new message from an unknown number. The thrumming immediately crested and morphed into anxious fire as you opened it.

Unknown number : Hey Hydra, it’s T :) from the forum haha

You smiled brightly at your phone. If anyone had seen you then, they would have thought that you were getting the best news of your life.

Hydra : Hey! It worked! You should actually give those escape rooms a try haha ;)

You quickly changed the contact info to ‘T’, but seeing the ‘name’ box of your contacts app did rekindle that curiosity inside of you to know who you were really talking to.

T : Lol maybe I should, yeah

T : Would be kinda hard on my own though

It didn’t take long for you both to fall back into what had become so familiar until then. The only difference was that since you could just text normally without going through the forum, you didn’t limit your conversations to strictly at night while he’s at work and you’re about to go to bed.

Even though you had different life schedules, there was still a good eight hours where you were both awake at the same time, and it was often spent texting each other about everything and anything.

T : Saw a cat on my way to work

T : it was all black and white, super adorable and shit

T : (Attached picture)

T : Does it look like Sergio?

Hydra : omg it is cute! Yeah, kinda! But Sergio’s a little fatter

Hydra : (Attached picture)

Hydra : Didn’t realize I could finally show him to you :)

T : What a king haha

One night, you came back from work, you did your whole routine, and before you knew it, you were sprawled out on your bed, a glass of red wine resting on your nightstand. You picked up your latest read – a sort of sci-fi romance that had seemed cringe at first but then had quickly reeled you in and made you obsessed.

As for Travis, he had just woken up, a bit later than usual because it was his day off. He was resting on his back, staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked under his head as his other hand scratched lazily over his stomach. He was wearing a gray cotton shirt and sweatpants – his bedsheets tangled around his legs.

Without really thinking, he picked up his phone.

T : Hey :)

The gentle buzz on your pillow pulled you out of your imagination, a soft smile spreading over your lips as you put down your book.

Hydra : Hiya!

Hydra : It’s your day off, right?

T : Hell yeah it is

T : Already kinda bored though haha

T : That has to be a record, I’ve been awake for like 10 minutes

Hydra : And there’s nothing you wanna do?

T : Not really.

T : Don’t know what book I should read

T : Don’t wanna watch TV

T : Don’t really even wanna go to the gym

T : Kinda just wanna talk I guess

An amused snort escaped you, because of course. You knew how much he could go on and on, talking the ears off whoever was willing to listen. You felt like talking – or in your experience with him, texting – was a way for him to regulate himself, and you were more than happy to see him not filtering himself with you. So really, you didn’t mind all the double texting if it meant he could be himself.

Hydra : Well I’m not really sleepy yet, so go for it :)

T : Can I call you?

Your breath hitched. That was a line that you had never crossed. And even though you now both knew more personal things about each other – like how you were pretty close in age and on which side of town you lived – you had never actually spoken to one another, and you were still staying anonymous.

But it wasn’t like you didn’t want to. You really liked T as a friend – he made you feel listened to, he remembered things, he was funny… You were just really scared of having no security net while talking to him. Via chatting or texting, you could think about what you were going to say. You could replay and loop your replies in your head, type them out a few different ways before settling on the one that was a good compromise between being safe but also still sounding like you.

Whereas out loud, on a call, you couldn’t do that. If you didn’t know what to say, you had to stew in the silence and try to come up with something on the fly. And if you said something that came out wrong, you couldn’t just erase it and try again.

As if sensing your hesitation – probably because of how long he waited for your reply with no sign of life – he texted again.

T : We don’t have to, no pressure

T : Just sometimes I feel like texting is limiting, yk?

T : Like there’s so many things happening up there I wish I could write it all out but it’d be way too long lol

T : Anyway, forget I asked if it made you uncomfortable or nervous. I understand, I’m sorry

His words were like a soft blanket being deposited over your shoulders, making you feel more at ease now that you saw how he wasn’t pushing for it. After all, it was just T. And you’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit that you had been wondering what he sounded like.

You took a deep breath, your thumbs slightly clumsy as you typed back.

Hydra : Don’t be sorry! I’m a bit nervous, but yeah, you can call me if you want :)

T : Are you sure? I really don’t mind if you don’t want to

Hydra : No no, I want to, T

T : Ok :)

It took maybe fifteen seconds before your phone started vibrating rhythmically – bzz… bzz… bzz… You stared at it as the letter ‘T’ flashed on the screen. You swallowed thickly, letting out a breath and closing your eyes before you answered.

“H-…Hello?”

“Oh hi! Damn…” He let out a soft incredulous laugh. The sound of it made the tension in your body loosen gently.

He kept talking. “It’s ‘T’, by the way. In case you were expectin’ someone else to call or somethin’. And actually, now that I say it out loud, I don’t usually go by ‘T’, so you can call me Teacake.”

You giggled at the nickname. “’Teacake’? Like, is that your real name or a nickname?”

Being able to hear you for the first time hit Travis all at once. Oh, she has a nice voice, he thought to himself.

“No, yeah. I mean, s’what my friends call me. My real name’s Travis, but no one really calls me that. But I guess you can if you want to, I mean you do whatever’s good for you, y’know?”

Hearing him talk brought a smile to your face. He was talkative, like you had pictured he would be, but his voice was deeper than what you expected. He had an interesting drawl that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, too. It settled in somewhere inside you, maybe a little deeper than it should have, and it almost felt comforting.

“Travis… that’s a nice name,” You offered softly, deciding that would probably be what you’d prefer to use for him.

“Uh, thanks! What’s your real name?” He sat up in his bed and scratched his jaw. “Only if you wanna tell me, of course. I can keep callin’ you Hydra, no problem.”

You chuckled and before you even had time to think twice about it, you offered him your name. Maybe he was rubbing off on you.

He said it once, as if practicing how it fit inside his well-oiled mouth. “Mm, I like it. Suits you. Y’know, there was this girl I knew in middle school with that name. I think she was into horses. Used to run around the school yard pretendin’ she was one and stuff.”

You turned on your belly, a faint smile on your lips as you listened to him. “Were you friends with her?”

He settled back against the headboard of his bed, one hand coming up to absent-mindedly brush through his bleached lengths. “Nah. Kids used to make fun of her. I didn’t though. Always thought it was kinda cool that she just did what she liked. I dunno.” He frowned a bit and cleared his throat. “I don’t even know why I’m tellin’ you all that, sorry.”

You giggled softly. “Hey, Travis. You know you don’t have to apologize with me, right?” Your voice was gentle, filled with a care he rarely heard from other people.

“Y-yeah, yeah. S’just sometimes I go on tangents, and I realize only after and I worry people’ll get bored.”

You hummed in understanding. You had talked many times before about how it was a constant in his life, being told he talked too much and how he should learn to shut it once in a while. “I know. But I don’t think you’re boring.”

Travis smiled, a soft breath escaping his lips, the sound making its way to you through the phone.

It took a second, but you mustered up some courage and spoke again. “We make a good team, right? You talk, I listen.”

The joke was a safe one – a little running gag you both had developed while texting each other – but it still made you nervous.

Travis chuckled, and the sound felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “Yeah, y’right about that. I uh- really appreciate you acceptin’ this, by the way. Callin’, I mean.”

“Yeah, well… I was pretty nervous but I’m okay now. I wanted to speak with you for real as well, just didn’t think I’d ever be ready.” The slight shyness in your tone made Travis’ expression soften.

“Well, look at you gettin’ out of your comfort zone.” The way his voice got slightly lower and laced with praise made the tip of your ears grow pink. “I know that’s hard for you, so… is it weird to say I’m proud? Feel like I know you pretty well but since it’s our first time talkin’ and all –“

The conversation kept going after that like it always did via text. Travis was doing most of the conversational heavy lifting – not that it bothered him or you – as he found new subjects to talk about and dove headfirst into them. What struck you amongst all of it was that even though he was quite vocal, he was also incredibly attentive. He always asked you what you were thinking, how you felt about certain things. He listened closely when you were speaking, hummed in understanding, asked clarifying questions when he needed to. He wasn’t merely waiting for you to stop talking just so he could keep going – which is something you had experienced in the past on bad dates – so it felt nice. He also remembered things you had said. It made you feel like you mattered, and the warmth spreading in your chest the more and more that first conversation trotted along had nothing to do with lingering anxiety and everything to do with simmering affection.

“…and I think that’s why butterflies spook me a little.” You caught a glimpse of your alarm clock through your now empty glass of wine – the display showing that it was well past midnight. You gasped softly just as Travis finished his sentence.

“You okay?” the concern in his voice made you chuckle.

“Y-yeah! I just didn’t realize what time it was. I should probably head to bed. Work tomorrow, y’know?” Your cheeks tinted crimson as you realized that you just spent around three hours talking to a man and that you hadn’t felt bored once.

Travis nodded to himself, his hand scratching his jaw as he felt slightly guilty for keeping you awake for so long. “Yeah, of course! You should go to bed. I’m sorry for keepin’ you up.”

“Stop apologizing, Travis. I… really enjoyed it.” The lilt in your voice betrayed your smile, and it made the corners of Travis’ lips twitch as well.

“Ah. Sorry. I mean, fuck! O-okay.” His whole face scrunched and he laughed softly. “I enjoyed it too. A lot.”

The hard enamel of your teeth pinched the inside of your cheek before you spoke. “Feel free to call me whenever, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, alright. I will. Goodnight,” he said as your name tumbled out of his lips like he had been saying it forever, even though he had just learned it three hours ago.

“Have a good day, Travis.”

As you hung up the call, you couldn’t shake the grin on your face. I have a friend, and I like talking to him, and it’s going well. But there was also an annoying little flutter deep in your belly. His voice had settled somewhere inside you, a place that hadn’t been reached in a long time. You didn’t think about it too much though, the exhaustion from the stress and excitement of talking to Travis for the first time catching up to you.

As for Travis, his off day was spent doing some laundry and going to the gym. And thinking about you entirely too much.

****

It took a couple of days before Travis dared to call you again, not wanting to be too much too quickly even though you had assured him time and time again that he would never be. And after that? It became routine once more, like it always so effortlessly did with him.

There was something special about the link between the both of you. However you chose to communicate, you made space for it in your lives almost seamlessly, like you had both been waiting to be rearranged just for this.

He called you when he got into work and you were just getting home. You called him when you were waking up and you knew he was done with work. It simply fit, even though you were on totally different schedules.

And the more and more you called each other, the more and more you started getting that fluttery feeling deep inside. It was almost reminiscent of your anxiety – the way it buzzed below your skin, occupied your thoughts and made you feel restless. But this feeling, you craved it. You didn’t want to push it away, you wanted to lean into it. You hadn’t felt this way in a long time, and the fact that you could still experiment it after you thought it wasn’t for you anymore, it was reassuring, in a way.

But as that sentiment grew fiercer, it did make you start to worry. Travis was your friend. The first one you had made in a long time. And you liked him. A lot. The last thing you wanted was to lose him because of your growing feelings for him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I mean, he doesn’t even know what I look like. What if I’m not his type?

No, you couldn’t risk it.

So you settled for the next best thing. Calling him and answering when he called you. Talking about nonsense. Laughing. Just so you were able to get a little part of him – the most you could get.

It was about 11PM on a Wednesday evening when you got a voice message from him. You had texted him an hour earlier a question about a book he had told you he was reading that you were interested in.

Sitting on your bed with Sergio next to you, you pressed play on the several-minutes-long audio.

Oh god.

“Uh, hey! Just saw your question.” The sound of him panting. “Sorry, was at the gym. On my way home now. So, basically, it’s this guy who…”

The problem wasn’t the information he was giving you. If you could have paid attention to it, you would have found that he was being surprisingly helpful and explaining the plot of the book quite well without divulging any meaningful spoilers.

But you couldn’t pay attention to any of that.

Travis sounded out of breath, like he had just gotten off the treadmill a second before recording the message because he couldn’t wait any longer. It made his voice slightly rougher, and he kept huffing and puffing. He let out little oh god’s as he tried to catch his breath between sentences.

You immediately felt like you were burning up from the inside – intrusive images of what the faceless man could have been doing to make him sound just like that popping up in your mind.

You shook your head halfway through the message and restarted it from the top, trying to focus on what he was saying instead of on how hot he sounded saying it.

When you finished the message, you quickly shot him a thank you text for his explanation and told him to have a good day off because you were going to bed.

But as you turned off the light on your nightstand, your mind got plagued. You couldn’t stop thinking about how he had sounded, how it had ignited something in you. Liquid heat pooled low in your belly, almost making you writhe as you tossed and turned.

“Get a grip,” you told yourself. It didn’t feel appropriate to give in and touch yourself to the sound of your friend’s voice when what he had done wasn’t even sexual in anyway. You were not that much of a pervert.

****

Except you were, apparently.

Because the next night, while he was on the phone with you, doing his rounds at work, bending over to check the locks on the storage units and letting out huffs and grunts? The heat built back up way too quickly.

You couldn’t fight it anymore, and you thought you could be discreet enough about it. You put your phone on mute as he kept rambling, just so he didn’t hear you shuffle around while you took off your pajama pants and underwear. You winced at how wet you were once you made contact with your heated core, drawing slow circles over your clit.

“…oh, I was wonderin’ actually if you like bananas?” Travis asked, completely unaware of whatever was happening. When he didn’t get an answer, he said your name with a confused tone, looking at his phone to check if the call was still going. “You there?”

Your phone fell on your mattress as you scrambled for it. When you finally managed to grasp it and unmute yourself, you sounded flustered. “Y-yeah! I’m here, sorry. What was that?”

Travis paused next to a unit, his brows furrowing at the slightly breathless quality to your voice. “I asked if you like bananas. Are you okay? You sound… weird.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, your hand instinctively going back to between your legs but staying still. “I’m totally fine. Um, yeah. I like bananas.” You cleared your throat.

He tilted his head, unconvinced, as he leaned against the cold metal wall. “You sound… breathless and shit. You sure? Were you havin’ a panic attack or somethin’?”

The concern in his voice made you close your eyes and let out a long breath through your nose. God, he’s so sweet. He was very aware of your struggles and that attentiveness did not help how you felt for him. “No, Travis. I promise. Just… don’t mind it, okay? You can keep going. Why did you wanna know if I like bananas?”

He still didn’t fully believe you, but it seemed to satisfy him enough as he started walking and talking again. “Okay, well. I wanted to know because there’s this bakery on Sixth Street that has this insane banana bread with chocolate chips in it. I passed it last time I was comin’ back from the gym and basically undid all the work I had just done but…”

As he resumed his rambling, you started touching yourself again. You knew how ashamed you would feel after, but in the moment, all you could think about was Travis and how he sounded when he bent down and when he talked to you.

You stayed quiet, your eyes rolling back in pleasure when you changed the rhythm slightly on your swollen clit. You answered him when he asked questions, trying to sound normal, and for a while it worked.

At one point though, he had been talking on his own for so long that you forgot you weren’t on mute. Your fingers dipped lower and pressed inside yourself, your generous slick making it easy. A very soft “oh fuck” left your lips, but it was loud enough for Travis to pick it up on his end, making him stop dead in his tracks.

His mind was reeling. You didn’t sound like you were in pain. You didn’t sound like you were panicking. He stayed silent, his phone pressed to his ear as his breathing grew ragged.

The couple seconds it took for you to even register that he had stopped talking were enough for you to let a whimper slip out of your lips as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Travis felt his cock twitch at the sound, his eyes round as pennies from confusion, surprise and arousal. He whispered your name – like a question he wasn’t sure he even had the right to ask – and everything finally clicked inside your hazy brain. Your fingers stopped. Your phone lowered from your ear as you saw the mute button. Unengaged. Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, your cheeks burning from embarrassment and shame. The way your mind had been glazed over with desire mere seconds before felt incredibly distant as the reality of the situation came crashing around you. Before you could even begin to form a thought, you hung up the call.

As you sat up in your bed, your hands started to shake. The room felt smaller and bigger at the same time. Your point of view was sinking further back in your mind as you started to feel far away from your body. Panic was sinking its sticky claws in your ribs.

What the fuck were you thinking? He heard you. You stupid, dumb – ugh! You probably just lost the only friend you were able to make.

The relentless buzzing of your phone managed to get you back in the present moment for a second, ‘Travis’ flashing on the screen in an almost taunting manner.

You considered declining the call and never speaking to him again. But then, that would be losing him and his friendship without even fighting for it. Maybe you could make it seem like what had just happened wasn’t what it so obviously was.

You took a deep breath and answered the call – courageous in a way you probably wouldn’t have been a year ago during the worst of your struggles.

“Oh my God, Trav! I’m so sorry, Sergio got spooked and he ran into my phone and I dropped it, and then I accidentally ended the call when I picked it up from under the bed, and –“

“Hey, hey… Calm down.” His voice sounded a little rough, but achingly gentle as he recognized the panicked tone in your own and reacted accordingly. “Breathe. In and out. Everythin’s ok.”

You were frozen on your bed. Why was he being nice? But before you could ask yourself more questions, your body started obeying his soft commands. Your ribcage swelled up slowly, so did your belly, before you let it all out through your mouth.

“There you go. You’re okay. Just keep breathin’, yeah?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry, Travis.”

You couldn’t see him, but he shook his head as he dropped to the ground from where he was leaning against the wall. “Don’t apologize. Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly – your mouth dry as dust from the panic attack that Travis was helping you quash. “Yeah, s’just… I don’t know. Got scared.” Your voice sounded small and it tugged at his heartstrings.

He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The way your voice had sounded and the little whimper you had let out before you hung up had definitely cued Travis to what had been happening on your end of the call. He might have been clueless most of the time, but he wasn’t dumb. But he didn’t want to assume, and he felt like if it was what he thought it was, it probably wasn’t because of him. He had just happened to hear you. So, if you didn’t want to talk about it, then he would respect that, and the least he could do was comfort you.

He kept his voice soft. “Scared of what?”

You closed your eyes and let out a breath through your nose. “Messing up?”

“Messin’ what up?”

“This. Our friendship.” The admission tasted raw as it rolled off your tongue, your face scrunching up.

He let out a soft chuckle, almost as if what you’d said was the most outlandish idea he ever heard. He spoke your name gently. “You can’t mess this up, okay? M’not going anywhere. You’re like, such a good friend. Probably my best friend at this point, if I’m bein’ honest. You’re all good.”

His words washed over you like a warm shower soothing away your insecurity. “T-Thank you, Trav. Pretty sure you’re my best friend too.” A nervous little giggle escaped you, and he grinned at the sound.

You stayed on the phone for a few more minutes before he said goodnight and you wished him a good shift. Your heart felt full – not only had he managed to bring you down from a panic attack, he also had reassured you and not made you feel guilty for what you had done. And you were pretty sure that he had understood what had happened. What a man.

****

Maybe about a few weeks after the incident, Travis noticed something was off. Your replies were shorter and your tone was drier than usual.

You were on the phone with him one night while he was doing laundry – on his day off again – when Sergio managed to successfully launch a glass full of water off your kitchen counter after swatting at it for a couple minutes. Instead of laughing like you’d usually do, you groaned harshly and yelled a “Sergio!”

“Stupid cat, oh my god. Hang on, Trav.”

He could hear how frustrated you sounded while you cleaned the mess, leaving your phone on speaker on the counter. Once you were done, you shot a pointed look at Sergio and went into your room, shutting the door behind you as you fell back on your bed. You sighed loudly.

Travis spoke warily. “Hey, um… are you like, good?”

You scrunched your face in offense. “What? Course I’m good. Sergio’s just being a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get that. But I’ve never heard you react like that to him. You usually just laugh. And you’ve kinda been short with me for the past few days. Not that I’m judgin’ or anythin’. M’just wonderin’ if there’s something goin’ on, y’know?” He sounded almost scared of your reaction to his observation, and you hated that you were making him feel that way.

The truth was that you knew exactly why you were being like that. You were pent up. Sexually. As embarrassing as it was to admit that. After that call where he had basically caught you, even if he hadn’t brought it up, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t do it again. It wasn’t fair to him.

But Jesus, his voice still turned you on so fucking much. It was getting unbearable. You laid awake at night, replaying his voice in your head while refusing to give in to the urge to touch yourself, not wanting to be disrespectful.

It was wearing you down. But you couldn’t tell him that.

You let out a soft breath, willing your voice to be gentle. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me lately.”

The fact that you hadn’t scolded him for asking gave him more courage. “Come on. You must have a clue. You can tell me.”

You sighed, closing your eyes and raking a hand through your hair. “I’m just… pent up.”

“Pent up? What does that mean?”

You almost whimpered at having to explain it further than that. “Like… sexually? Frustrated? Ugh, this is humiliating.” You covered your face with your hand, feeling your cheeks turn bright red.

“Oh,” Travis simply said, feeling bad for pushing. But just as quickly, his brain kicked into solution-mode. “Well is there anythin’ you can do for that? Like touch yourself or somethin’?”

You groaned and he kept going. His voice sounded like a whisper as he asked himself, “what do I do when I feel like that?”, before he spoke more clearly. “Like, you could find a nice little video of somethin’ you like and just watch that and do it? I like-”

“Travis.” You sounded stern and he shut up at your tone. “I… tried and it’s not really working.”

He blinked rapidly, picking up his phone and taking it off speaker as he retreated back from his laundry to go to his room and sit on the edge of his bed. “Does it usually?”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah. Or sometimes I prefer reading about… sexual stuff. But I keep thinking about –“ You cut yourself off with a shake of your head. “Nevermind.”

“No, tell me. Promise I’m not judgin’.” He sounded so considerate.

“It’s complicated, Trav.” You didn’t know how much you could say without revealing too much. “Every time I try to, I keep thinking about this one person and I feel guilty because they don’t know and it isn’t fair to them.”

He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt as he kept his tone soft. She doesn’t need that right now. “You mean, you think about them sexually and they don’t know that you do?”

You were basically writhing over the covers of your bed, cringing at the conversation. “Yeah. I feel like a pervert.” You let out a humorless chuckle.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in sympathy. “Mm. Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think that makes you a pervert or whatever. Attraction’s normal. S’okay to be attracted to people. And you’re single. I don’t think it’d necessarily be a bad thing to pleasure yourself while thinkin’ ‘bout them.”

You couldn’t stop the simultaneously relieved and surprised breath you let out at Travis basically giving you his blessing. “Y-you think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve definitely done that before. If what happens in your brain stays there, it’s not really a problem, is it?” Then he thought about it even more. “Actually, if you think the other person’s also into you, they might even find that hot.”

You felt a flush travel from your neck to the rest of your body – the now familiar arousal associated with Travis flaring up inside you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“Would you?” The question left your mouth too quickly, and you froze. Before you could save face, he started talking.

“You mean like if I learned you touched yourself to me?” He let out a timid chuckle.

You were mortified. “No, I mean-“

But he cut you off, too busy nervously rambling now. “Cause, yeah I’d find that hot. I mean, I like you a lot obviously and I guess it’d be flatterin’ and all-“

“Trav.” You tried to stop him.

“…Honestly, I’d be kinda relieved ‘cause I’ve also been thinkin' 'bout you in ways maybe I shouldn’t have. But uh-“

“Travis.” You said louder, and he actually stopped talking. You could hear how his breathing got slightly faster as he realized what he had said. “I didn’t mean me specifically, but… I guess I still got my answer.” You let out a nervous chuckle as your thighs pressed together on your bed, the reality of Travis reciprocating how you felt making your whole body feel hot. Strangely, it also made you relax, the guilt starting to lessen.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Holy shit, I didn’t mean – oh God.” He took a deep breath, his heart beating wildly like it wanted to rip out of his chest and hide under his bed. “Just… forget I said anythin'. That was creepy, I don’t know why I said all that. Stupid mouth-“

“Travis, Stop.” You smiled at his nervous recovery attempt. “It’s fine. You’re not stupid.”

He let himself fall on his back as he buried a hand in his hair. “I feel awful.”

You giggled softly. “Don’t, really. I… get it.”

His brows furrowed and his mouth turned into that little frown he gets when he’s confused. “You get it?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean ‘you get it’?”

You bit the inside of your cheek before you decided to just go for it. “I was talking about you.”

He frowned even more. “Okay. Now I don’t get it.”

You let out a nervous huff. “God, Trav. Earlier. The person I was thinking about.”

He simply nodded, even though absolutely no wires were touching in his brain. “What about ‘em?”

“I was talking about you! I keep thinking about you!” You said, a little frustrated from having to so plainly explain it to him. You closed your eyes forcefully, holding your breath.

“Oh.” The wires finally touched. His eyes went wide and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape.

The silence was deafening as you uncomfortably shifted on your bed. After a few moments, you spoke, unable to tolerate it anymore. “Now is not the time for you to shut up.” But the joke landed flat. “Please. Say something.”

He let out a breath before speaking. “I… guess I wasn’t wrong.”

Now it was your turn to frown in confusion. “What?”

“I do find it hot,” he said, his voice dipping into that lower register that seemed to throw accelerant on the fire burning between your legs.

“Travis.” Your breathing grew ragged.

“And I kinda wanna hear you talk about it more.” His own breathing wasn’t normal either. His hand twitched from its resting place on the soft give of his stomach.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “I… can’t,” you said shyly as you felt a heated blush travel all over your skin.

“Because you don’t want to, or because you’re scared?”

“I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“You’re my friend and what if it’s weird-“

“Angel.”

Fuck, that wasn’t fair. The way the nickname fell so easily from his lips did things to you that were highly inconvenient and that did not help how hot and extremely bothered you felt.

He spoke again, softer. “You don’t have to, ‘kay? I just want you to be comfortable. But you’ve been a little off lately and you said how frustrated you felt and I just think that maybe it could help you, no?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You laughed a bit awkwardly. “Jeez, I feel like we’re back on that self-help forum helping each other out with our struggles, ‘cept this is way different.”

He chuckled with you. “Let me help, then.”

He sounded so soft and caring and entirely like him that you gave in. You repositioned yourself on your pillows, getting a bit more comfortable, as he pushed himself up to rest back against his headboard. I’ll just talk about it, no big deal, you told yourself.

“It uh… started when you sent me a voice message and you were getting out of the gym, so you were like huffing and puffing? And I realized that I liked how your voice sounded. I don’t know, is that weird?” You laughed, simultaneously embarrassed and relieved to finally be admitting it.

He grinned at the sound of your laughter. “Nah, not weird. And how did it make you feel?”

You swallowed thickly, thinking back to that night. You could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear at the thought of him all sweaty and strong and panting. You didn’t even know what he looked like and he had that effect on you. “Just… hot. All over. And… turned on.”

“Mm… yeah?” He could feel his cock chubbing up in his sweatpants. “And now, when you get in the mood… you can’t stop thinkin’ about that?”

Your hand found your bare thigh past the hem of your sleep shorts. “Yeah.”

He hummed, a sound that coaxed your legs to fall slightly open. “So you like the sound of my voice?” Even with how soft and – let’s face it – sexy he was being, the question came out a little disbelieving, like he couldn’t fathom that, for once, maybe someone actually found his talking attractive and not annoying.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, Trav. I do.”

“Shit, that’s… hot. Damn. Um… what do you think about?”

You whimpered slightly at the question, your hand cupping your still clothed core. You wanted to tell him all the dirty thoughts you had been having, but everything got stuck in your throat. “Um, I don’t know if I can say it.”

“W-want me to keep talkin’? I can say things I’m thinkin' about and if you like ‘em or not you tell me. How does that sound?” He asked gently, but noticeably getting breathless.

“Yeah, sounds good. Please.”

“Huh- fuck. Okay.” His fingers splayed on his belly as the very tip of them touched the waistband of his sweats. “How about… that I’m thinkin' about being over there right now?”

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes closing as you rolled your hips gently against your hand. “Mhm.”

He bit his bottom lip before continuing. “Maybe we would have gone out to dinner, or to watch a nice movie, and you’d have invited me back up to your place. I’d watch you as you’d lead me toward your room.”

The way he started narrating this like it wasn’t just sex but like it was the end of a successful date gave you butterflies. You smiled and let out a soft huff. “You’re so fucking cute.”

He chuckled a bit. “Let me get there. I’m paintin’ the scene, Angel,” He playfully reprimanded before continuing. “So, as I was sayin’ before someone interrupted me, I’d follow you inside your room while I was holdin’ your hand. I’d probably say ‘hi’ to Sergio on the way there.”

You giggled and it made him grin like an idiot.

“We’d close the door and I’d step really close to you, pressin’ you back against it.”

You sighed once more, your thighs pressing together as your hand started applying more pressure on your core. “Would you kiss me?”

Travis let out a shuddering breath as his hand grazed over his tented crotch. “Of course I would. S’all I can think about… I wanna know what you taste like. Your lips. Your skin. I’d trail down your neck while I’d touch you everywhere.”

“Fuck, Trav.” You gasped, your hands quickly hooking in the waistband of your shorts to take them off.

“Too much?” He asked, worried.

“N-no. Keep going, please.” You reassured, your hand finding the wet patch over your pussy.

“O-okay. I’d… take off your clothes slowly, lookin’ at you after every item fell off. I’d lay you down on your bed and I’d cover your body with mine.”

He didn’t even know what you looked like, but still, he had fantasized about it more times than he could count. He had imagined different body types, different colors and textures, and it always worked for him as long as it was your sweet voice that went with it.

He started putting pressure on his painfully hard cock, his mind still disbelieving that he was doing this, talking dirty to you, and that you were enjoying it. “I’d probably kiss you for way too long, grindin’ against you, before I’d… go down on you. Fuck, Angel. Please, tell me you’d let me taste you.”

You moaned as you finally plunged your hand beneath your panties and made contact with your swollen and slick pussy, your fingers expertly circling your clit just the way you like. “F-fuck, yes. You could… taste me, Trav.”

The groan that left his mouth let you hear just how turned on and desperate he felt. “O-oh God. Are you… touchin' yourself right now?”

“Mhmm…” You whined pathetically.

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you right now.” His hand was now fully wrapped around the base of his thick cock, his sweatpants lowered just enough down his thighs to give him access.

His voice was steady, but you could tell he felt a bit insecure. It made you want to show him he was doing a good job.

You spoke through moans and soft whines as you started to circle your entrance, gathering your arousal on your fingers. “I’m… so wet, Travis. You’re… making me like this.”

He moaned in response, his hand starting to messily stroke up and down his shaft, smearing the precum collecting at the head and making it slick. “Holy shit. That’s… so fuckin’ hot. Oh my god. This is crazy. I… really wish I could taste you right now. Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet, I just wanna bury my face between your legs and stay there while you pull on my hair, beggin’ me not to stop as you come on my tongue.”

The mental image he just conjured in your mind made your eyes roll back as you fucked yourself with your fingers, your other hand joining the fun by starting to stimulate your clit after you had put the phone on speaker to lay it down on your chest. “Oh, baby…” You whined. “I’d wanna… taste you too. Maybe I could, uh… ride your face while I – uh… fuck.“ You cut yourself off before you could say how much you wanted to suck him off, feeling embarrassed, even though you were practically having phone sex with him.

His hips bucked up, fucking his fist as he kept stroking it because of how stupidly horny you were making him. “Jesus, yes. Fuck, Angel, I wouldn’t last. I’m so fuckin’ close right now.”

“Me too, s-so close. Travis.” You moaned his name in bliss as the knot that was steadily building in your belly was starting to crest. You could feel how desperately your body – and your mind – needed the release, your legs twitching and shaking.

“Come on, babe. Give it to me. Come for me, wanna hear you fall apart. Please, Angel.” He was babbling – almost incoherent – his own edge starting to give way under his feet, ready to fall as soon as you did.

“I’m… com-“ The coil finally snapped in a wave of liquid pleasure – or it might have been more accurate to describe it as a tsunami – the intensity of it something you had never experienced before. It crashed through the weeks of tension and need that had accumulated in your limbs, loosening everything up as it ebbed and flowed. You didn’t even realize how loudly you had moaned Travis’ name until the sounds of his own moans and your name on his lips reached your ears through the phone.

“That’s it – oh my God, you’re so fuckin’ hot. I’m right there with you, fuuuuck.” He spilled all over his hand, some of his spend coating the coarse hair at the base of his cock and the softer ones of his happy trail. He kept stroking himself lazily even after his orgasm stopped, enjoying the sensitiveness.

You both stayed silent for a little while after, listening to each other’s breathing through the call. Honestly, you didn’t know what to say after getting the most world-shattering orgasm of your life from having phone sex. With a still faceless guy. That you didn’t even know worked where.

“Um…” You started, slightly awkward but determined to not let things get weird. “T-thank you for that. T’was… really good.” A soft laugh escaped you.

He chuckled with you as he finished cleaning himself up with tissues before throwing them in the trash. “Don’t thank me. It was… I mean, I profited from it too, obviously. Jesus…” He buried his hand in his hair as he laid back against his headboard. “You sounded so good. And I’m sober so I was like, really aware of it, and I could pay attention to it, and fuck…” his cock twitched again inside the reinstalled prison of his sweatpants as he thought about how you had sounded a few minutes earlier.

You pulled your fluffy blanket over yourself to hide your cooling skin. You laughed softly at how out of pocket the ‘sober’ comment felt. “Of course you’re sober. You’ve woken up like 2 hours ago.”

He chuckled but it was slightly strained. “No, I know. S’just… I’ve never actually, like… had sex while sober before. Not that I think we just had sex together or anythin’! But it was kind of the closest I’ve been to an actual sober sexual experience. I know it’s kinda weird, but uh… yeah. Thank you for that.”

Your arms started to feel like jelly at his quiet confession, and in that moment, it felt like he was handing you a part of him so fragile that all you wanted to do was to cradle him inside the palm of your hand and protect him at all costs. “Oh, I didn’t know that Trav. And I mean, phone sex is like, a thing. Which is what we did. I think. But we can not call it that if it makes you uncomfortable. Anyway, thanks for trusting me with that.”

He hummed before speaking. “R-right, phone sex. That’s what it was.” He wanted so much to see you in the afterglow of it all, especially now that he had admitted one of his secrets and that you hadn’t laughed at him. But he stopped himself from asking to see you, because that was what you both always did. What it was supposed to be like from the very beginning of your friendship. Anonymous. But now, with how he knew what his name sounded like coming from your mouth as you surrendered to pleasure, it was getting harder to pretend like he still wanted that.

He paused before he kept speaking. “It’s getting’ late, huh? I should let you get some sleep.”

You sighed, nuzzling yourself in your blanket. The relief from admitting your fantasies and finally releasing so much pent-up sexual tension hit you hard and made you sleepy incredibly quickly. “Yeah, okay. I think I’m gonna pass out in like three seconds.” You chuckled lazily.

Hearing you like that, all soft and pliant, tugged at something inside his chest. “Good. You uh… have a good night, Angel.”

“Good night, Trav. And thank you, again.”

“Don’t mention it. Sleep well.”

And with that, your phone hit your pillow as you drifted to sleep mere moments later.

****

Surprisingly enough, the next few days after that were like nothing had changed between the two of you. You still called each other way too much, and you laughed at dumb stuff together, and you had silly conversations that felt deep but really weren’t. Not that any of you cared about that.

“I’m telling you, Trav. I was waiting at a red light, and I saw the tree and it had no leaves, so I could see all the branches. And I thought to myself ‘woah, it looks like an upside-down lung’. And then I realized, trees are literally the lungs of the world!”

“Ohhh ‘cause of photosynthesis and shit? Damn… that’s kinda cool. You think they ever get breathless?”

“Heh, I don’t think that’s how it works. Oh! Hang on, my dad’s calling me.”

Your dad had called you because he had to take a business trip to your town, which was about three hours away from where he lived. He hated hotels so he had asked you if he could stay the night at your place. You had agreed on the condition that he understood that he was going to have to sleep on your couch. “No problem, Pickle. Just excited to see my daughter.”

The day that he was supposed to arrive at your place was your day off. It was the afternoon, and you were cleaning up your apartment to at least try to appear like you were a decent human being, when your phone rang.

The screen showed ‘Travis’ and you picked it up with a frown. He’s supposed to be sleeping.

“Hey, Trav. You okay?”

His voice came through low and rough. “I woke up and now I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

Your breath hitched as you felt heat pool low in your belly. “Oh, really? Poor baby…”

The phone sex had now slipped into the whole dynamic of your relationship, another piece of the puzzle that seemed to fit a little to seemlessly. It was just casual. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

He groaned and you could hear the faint sound of slicked skin being stroked. You could literally feel yourself soaking your underwear. He spoke again, his voice sounding completely wrecked. “Fuck, Angel. I keep thinkin’ about you ridin’ me, takin’ whatever you need from me while I tell you how fuckin’ beautiful you look. I want your ass bouncin’ on me while your tits are bouncin’ in my face. Fuuuck…”

As he was talking, you stopped what you were doing to strip your leggings and kneel on the couch to start touching yourself, holding yourself up on the back of it as if you were riding him. You moaned at his words as you plunged your fingers inside your wet cunt, your hips grinding against your hand. “Bet you’d feel so good deep inside me, Trav. I’d keep grinding on you ‘til I’d come so hard all around your cock, baby.”

He shuddered as his release crashed over him too easily, like he had been so worked up that the sound of you needing him too was enough to bring him to his peak. Warm ropes of cum painted the soft give of his belly as it tensed from his orgasm. He finally took a deep breath as his tummy relaxed, the endorphins starting to loosen his limbs. “Holy shit, Angel… Made such a fuckin’ mess for you.”

The image came to you like a revelation – you pulling him out of your sopping pussy so he comes all over himself, just so you can then settle between his knees and lick it all off of him before taking his spent and oversensitive shaft into your mouth and tasting yourself. It had you clenching around your fingers as you came with a loud cry. “Fuck, Travis!”

You collapsed forward against the back of the couch before sitting down on the cushions, panting softly.

He chuckled lazily. “Oh hi, by the way.”

You laughed with him. “Well, weren’t you a little desperate, huh?”

He scratched his jaw, his fingers nails catching on the slight stubble there. “Only for you, Angel. Literally couldn’t go back to sleep. And I knew you weren’t workin’, so…” It seemed to hit him then. “Oh, did I interrupt you doin’ somethin’? I’m really sorry if I did, I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly-”

You cut him off. “Stop, Travis. You’re fine. I was just doing some cleaning because my dad is coming for the night. Nothing too important.”

He let out a breath of relief. “Right! Your dad. Are you excited about it?”

You smiled as you got up and picked up your leggings to head to the bathroom. “Yeah, I am! Haven’t seen him in a while since moving out.”

He yawned, but you knew it wasn’t because he thought you were boring. It was just a time where he was usually asleep and now that you had helped him get off, exhaustion was starting to pull him back under. “That’s good then, you can do a little catch up.”

“Mhm. And you should catch up on some sleep, mister. ‘Fore you go to work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He yawned again. “Just like hearing your voice.”

You melted slightly, your hand pausing around the edge of your shower curtain as you felt your stomach flutter with that unnamed feeling you both loved and tried to ignore. “Me too, Trav… Now try and get some sleep.”

“Night, Angel.”

“Night.” It was so easy for him to call you nicknames outside of your sexual activities, but it still felt awkward for you. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you weren’t sure you had the right to. And because you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep it casual then.

****

“You still got the tools I gave you when you moved here?” Your dad said, looking under your kitchen sink.

Your face scrunched up. Technically, yes. You still had them. But they were in a storage unit with a bunch of stuff that hadn’t fit in your apartment when you had moved here. Your dad had pulled you into a hug when he had first arrived and immediately spotted the leaking faucet over your shoulder. He had jumped into his ‘helpful dad’ persona quite quickly after that.

“Think I left them at the storage unit,” you said, as if it had been an accident when that happened. Truth is, you had no intention of fixing stuff around your place if you could either call your landlord or a handyman about it.

He gave you a disapproving look. “Then let’s go get ‘em, Pickle,” he said, already picking up his keys.

“Ugh Dad… Can’t we just stay in and watch a movie or something?”

“Come on. Just a quick drive, and then you’ll thank me when you won’t hear that awful dripping sound all the time.”

You sighed and gave in.

The drive over to the storage facility was surprisingly fun as you and your dad sung some classic rock tunes he used to make you listen to when you were just a kid. The windows were rolled down, the wind messing up your hair slightly, but it felt so good you didn’t care.

Once you arrived at your destination, you both got out of the car and headed toward the glass doors of the facility. The gray building gave you slight goosebumps – or maybe it was the humidity still clinging to the air from the small bit of rain that fell earlier. The asphalt was still dark and wet from it.

Your phone pinged as you walked.

Travis : How’s it going with your dad? :)

You typed up a reply as your dad opened the glass door for you.

You : Going well! We’re picking something up

You pressed send as you took in the large entrance, still very grayish white and industrial looking. About a few seconds later, you heard a buzzing sound come from the front desk.

Your dad spoke up as he saw the elevator. “What floor is it on?”

You took out the key and looked at the number on it. “It’s down to sub-level 2, I think-“

“Oh! Hey! I didn’t hear you guys come in. My bad, I was in the back.” The employee rounded the corner of the front desk, overgrown bleached hair bouncing a little as he jogged to reach you and your dad.

You stared at him completely frozen. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. How could you not, really? You had heard him talk, laugh, cry (almost) and moan for Christ’s sake. Your eyes immediately took in his face, the way his hazel eyes were soft and looked a little surprised to see customers. You observed how he seemed to have freckles and moles everywhere, how his stubble looked just perfect to give him that slightly unpolished look that fit him so well. Your gaze went down to his neck and the ‘Howdy’ tattoo etched there, shitty and scratchy like he had once described over the phone when he had gone in detail about his experience in prison. His voice cut back in through the ringing in your ears as your ogling reached the ‘Atchison Self-storage’ jacket he had on.

“…You guys coming to see your unit?” He looked at the tag attached to the key in your hand. “Sub-level 2, huh? My favorite. I can totally show you guys down there. I mean, I work here and even I get lost some time.”

He gave you a soft smile, and it made you clear your throat as a knot of anxiety immediately grew through your insides. You should have played it off. You should have denied his help and pretended like you hadn’t recognized the voice of the man you had accidentally started falling for. But the word was out of your mouth before you could stop it – a tell-tale sign his spontaneity was slowly influencing you after months of friendship.

“Travis?”

****

A/N : I'm sorryyyyyy for the cliffhanger hehehe should I write a part 2?

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