“Steve’s Her Daddy Now”

“We’ll talk later”? That’s it? You couldn’t believe your ears, even three hours later at lunch. You push your food-colored mush around the tray, not feeling very up to eating after the stressful morning you’ve had. You agreed with him that you had a lot to catch up on, but for whatever reason you didn’t trust his intentions. You were finding it hard to believe that he wanted to pick up where you left off like you did. 

“Y/N please, you’re being all mopey over Steve Harrington it’s embarrassing,” Nancy remarks as she takes a bite out of whatever it is the school was calling lunch today. “There are so many cuter, smarter, nicer guys out there to mope over. You’re way better off without him.”

You sigh and look up to her, “It’s not that I want to be with him in any way! It’s just…” You trail off before continuing, “When I thought he didn’t recognize me, it’s like my entire childhood died right then and there. And then when he did recognize me but barely cared, it’s like I died right along with it. It’s just so humiliating. I’ve been thinking about him for nine years, wondering what he was like and what he was doing, just for him to barely care that I’m there at all.”

Nancy sighs before setting her fork down and looking you straight in the eye, “Look, I don’t know what kind of magical connection you guys had as nine year olds but, face it, people change. Sometimes they change for the better, other times they change for the worst. It’s just unlucky that he changed in the way that he changed and you changed in the way that you changed. Not everyone can be compatible forever.”

You take in what she’s saying and nod. Maybe she’s right, maybe you can get through this with your ego relatively unscathed. Sometimes people just change, it’s a fact of life and perhaps you were being delusional thinking that he would be waiting for you like some lost puppy after all this time. You have a midterm project to do and that’s what matters, everything else is manageable or straight-up ignorable. He wasn’t your Stevie anymore and that was that. 

“Thanks, Nance. You’re probably right. I’ll forget about him as much as I can while we do this stupid project together.

Nancy starts back on her food, “What’s your project on anyway? Mine last year was on the digestive system.”

You were so caught up in the Steve of it all that you hadn’t even looked at the paper Mr. Kaminsky had handed out detailing your assignment details. Digging through your backpack through the million syllabi and textbooks, you finally found it. You take one look at it before groaning and slamming it on the table for Nancy to read herself.

She busts out laughing, “You can’t be serious?”

“The reproductive system! Of all things!” You hide your head in your hands and groan once more. 

Nancy tries to stop herself from laughing but fails, “No, no it will be fine. I mean, to be honest, Steve will probably pay you big bucks to do it alone and slap his name on it anyway. But, God, that is funny.”

“This is going to add a whole other layer of awkwardness to it all.”

“You’ll be fine, just don’t let him try and trick you into hands on learning.” She takes a bite of her apple while you make a scrunched up, disgusted face at her. “What! We all know he gets around, and you two have a history! He’s bound to try something.”

You roll your eyes, “Trust me, he does not see me that way. He barely sees me, period.”

You wait for Nancy to respond but she does is widen her eyes and grow pale. “What, have you seen a ghost or something, Nance?”

Suddenly, an all too familiar voice pipes up from behind you, “Or something.”

You whip around to see none other than Steve The King Harrington resting his hand on the table beside you, other hand on his hip, feet crossed. Nonchalance in a stance.

He spares you the awkwardness of trying to cover your tracks by moving on and saying, “So I was thinking about our project and how it might be nice to plan out who was going to do what.”

You stutter out, “That, uh, that sounds–”

“Great? Awesome, glad to hear it. My house? 7 o’clock? You remember the address, don’t you, sweetheart?” He winks at you and turns to Nancy dropping his tone a little and drawling, “Hey Wheeler, nice sweater you got there today.”

She feebly waves back while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. You almost swear she bats her eyes at him, and if you weren’t so shocked by his presence, you would have rolled your eyes at her. She really lost some credibility as the “forget him!” friend with that shocking display of subordinance. 

Before you can say anything else, he’s gone as soon as he had arrived. Immediately once he’s out of your line of sight you turn back to Nancy, “What the hell was that!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me! He has secret powers or something. I felt totally under a spell.”

“You’re pathetic.” You tease as she covers her face to hide the blushing. “Looks like no one is truly immune to ‘The King’.”

“You’re going to have to be if you’re going over there tonight at 7. That’s a date time.”

You scoff, “It’s a Monday.”

“The King takes no days off.”

Steve was supposed to come over in an hour for dinner, and you were planning to tell him how you felt. That you loved him. You had made two steaks with mashed potatoes and asparagus. Still, you had been so tired from working with the kids earlier in the day that you must have fallen asleep while the food was cooking and now here you are, sitting on one of your barstools with your head against the counter watching as the flames from the pan spread to your countertops like a starving child might do when introduced to an all you can eat buffet. Your lungs burned from the smoke intake and your body burned from the heat of the flames. There was no stopping it, they had already become way too out of control for your pitiful fire extinguisher in the coat closet to your left down the hall. When it all clicked in your head that you were about to die if you didn't move your ass, you jumped from your chair.

Coughing like an asthmatic old lady that smokes three packs a day, you slowly make your way down the hall to your bedroom where there was a window you could escape from, but the closer you got the harder it got to breathe. The smoke made your eyes water and your lungs burn, and as it got harder to breathe it got harder to see. Your steady trudge quickly turned to a weak limp, barely moving more than a slow drag. You were going to die if you didn't move, but you honestly couldn't find the strength to push on. At one point your body decided to quit for you, falling to the ground just outside your door in a heap of limbs. You didn't want to die, but you couldn't breathe and if you couldn't breathe then you couldn't move and that was sort of the point.

Thinking of Steve and how heartbroken he might be to discover you died so close to safety, you managed to pull yourself a bit further, able to drag your aching body into your bedroom and close the door in order to give the flames more of an obstacle. If you were being completely honest with yourself though, there was no way you could lift yourself back onto your feet in order to reach the window, let alone open it. You were a goner, but at least you could go out saying you tried, no matter how minuscule. You laid in your bed, eyes closed and waiting. Waiting for the flames to take you away, and god did they. You screamed in agony as the heat licked your body, your skin boiling from the heat. It was the worst when it stopped hurting because that's when you really knew it was over, you were gone and you never even got the chance to tell the love of your life how you felt about him. What a shame.

"Y/N!" Steve yelled, running up to the receptionist's desk with tears in his eyes. "Where is she?!"

"Sir, please, calm down." The woman calmly replied, standing from her seat and trying to gently place her hands on his shoulders. "Take a deep breath."

"No! I don't think you understand! Please I need to know she is okay," He sobbed, pushing away from the woman. "Where is she!"

"She's in surgery. They are doing the best they can," she soothed. "For now, she needs you to take a deep breath and calm down."

"Okay," Steve conceded, nodding his head too much as he tried to calm his racing heart. When Nancy showed up at his door, tears in her eyes while she explained to him what happened, his whole world felt like it was going in slow motion. He couldn't even think of anything to say to her as he grabbed his keys and got into his car before racing off to the hospital. "She needs to live." Steve sobbed, "I never got to tell her that I love her, so she needs to live." He spoke, trying to reassure himself that the worst wouldn't happen, that their love story wouldn't end before it even got to start. He sat in the chair of a hospital waiting room that night and then into the next morning, waiting. People would stop by occasionally to check in on him and ask if anything changed, but the answer was always the same. "I don't know." She had been in surgery for over ten hours and no one had stepped out to update him once. He was almost asleep from pure exhaustion when suddenly a voice spoke.

"Y/N Y/L/N?"

"I'm her husband!" Steve instantly jumped from his chair, looking for the person that announced her name. They wouldn't tell him shit if he didn't lie, but he couldn't help but enjoy the sound of the name. Her husband. Forever with her. It sounded like a dream.

"We were able to stabilize her, but she has severe third-degree burns over her entire body. The rehabilitation process is going to be long and painful. She's only allowed one visitor at a time and they must be completely sterilized before entering." The doctor informed, droning on and on with information that Steve couldn't process. She was alive. That's all that mattered to him at that moment. She was alive. They could still have forever.

"Can you take me to her?" He asked, his voice shaking.

It takes you a minute, or maybe it’s just a second, it all feels like time is just dragging on to Steve. Steve feels powerless again. He feels like yet again everything is just outside of his control. He hates that feeling, and he hates that it’s drifting in right now when the last thing Steve needs to worry about is how he feels. You finally find your voice, the sound of it low and hoarse in a way Steve knows your throat is just aching.

“I’m okay,” you say but Steve can’t find an ounce in himself that believes it. “It’s just a dream, I’m sorry.” Your apology is rushed at the end, and your voice cracks halfway through it. Steve worries that you’re going to start crying. Steve can’t figure out what you’re apologizing for, and he says as much.

Steve moves in closer to you, he thinks about grabbing your hand and thinks of holding you. “It’s okay,” he speaks softer this time, putting all his energy into making sure you know he’s not upset. He doesn’t reach out to you though like he wants. Like he yearns to do. You’re scared enough as it is, you don’t need him clinging to you like he’s the one that just had the nightmare.

“I- I, uh, get them too, sometimes.” Steve feels like he’s tripping over his words. He feels so unsure of what to do. He’s never had to comfort someone in this way before and has never been on the receiving end of this kind of comfort. No one has ever been here for his moments of vulnerability, not like he’s here with you now. Steve feels an immense responsibility to say the right things and make the right choices. Anything to let you know that he’s here, that he loves you. But this is just another thing that his parents failed to teach him.

You finally turn to look at him, and even though the only light in his room comes from the moonlight slipping in through the crack of his curtains he can see every inch of you. There are wet spots on your face, tracks from tears you were probably crying as he slept peacefully beside you. Steve feels like he adds another weight, this time labeled guilt to everything else he has internally gone on. Your face is paler than he’s ever seen it, but your eyes have him struggling to catch his breath.

You hold his gaze, never blinking, eyes wide as you look over him in a way that makes him feel more vulnerable than what he’s just shared with you.

“You do?” You finally say, and it sounds a little disbelieving.

“Yeah,” he matches your quiet tone, heading nodding just a bit to further confirm that despite it all Steve is just as human as you are, and sometimes just as scared.

Steve doesn’t dive into the things that haunt him at night though, instead chooses to focus on you. You whose breathing has finally slowed, and the shake that you had has gone away. Steve watches as you shiver, unsure if the room is too cold or if it’s a lingering after-effect of your nightmare.

Steve reaches out, he’s so close to you but his arm feels like it’s stretching over some great divide. His hand hovers just for a moment near your face before it moves to tuck some hair behind your ear. Just as quickly his hand is falling down and into the blankets shared between you. Steve clears his throat, thinking you probably want a minute where he’s not there hovering, and your throat he reminds himself is probably still aching.

“Let me get you some water,” Steve quickly goes to stand and shuffle out of the room.

“Steve,” you call, and your voice sounds stronger than it was at the start of all this.

When Steve turns back to you, you’ve moved slightly, like you were trying to follow him. “Will you - I mean, could you just stay with me?” Your tone drifts off at the end and Steve doesn’t even have to look to know that you’re shifting because you feel like you’ve asked too much of him. Which is impossible, there’s nothing you couldn’t ask him.

Steve doesn’t hesitate, quickly walking back to the bed. His “yeah” of confirmation coming out after he’s already taken two steps towards you.

Steve climbs back in, arms already opening up before he’s even settled in as you start to crawl into his hold. Your head rests right over his chest and Steve wonders if you can hear how loud his heart is beating. He wraps you up, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other just holds you tightly. He tips his head down just a smidge and kisses the top of your head.

"Steve, why do you keep stopping?" You question panting. It started with an innocent movie night, which soon turned into something more.

"If you stay quiet I won't stop." Steve's fingers were buried in your tight pussy, he had a stupid grin on his face, he could see how hard you were trying to not grind against his fingers. "Just be quiet and keep watching, ok?" He started moving his fingers in and out of your gummy walls. It was becoming hard to stay quiet.

You had to stop yourself moaning every time his fingers hit the perfect spot. You were doing so good, but when you felt close to cumming, you let out a loud moan, making Steve pull his fingers.

"Steve no, please." You sobbed looking at him with a pout.

“What?” you squawk. “Yes, it is.”

“’s not. It’s Eli or something.”

As if Spielberg himself was offended by Steve's declaration, a character on-screen calls out for Elliott a second later.

“See!” you clarify smugly, shaking your legs a little in insistence. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now can you please,” he nuzzles your hand with his head, “resume.”

Huffing to hide your grin, you thread the soft locks through your fingers. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Steve goes stock-still, but it takes another moment for you to realise you’ve said it.

Just one moment and then, fuck, you’re drowning. Lightheaded and submerged in eerie silence and struggling to breathe because you just called your best friend cute. 

You just called your best friend cute and he hasn’t said anything and Elliott and E.T. are synchronously dying on-screen and you haven’t even noticed. You want to make a joke, laugh it off as a normal friend would, but your heart is in your throat and you know you’ve been caught. His stillness and silence confirm as much. 

With that, you swiftly conclude that this marks the end of your knowing Steve. You’ve managed to destroy a year-long friendship with a thoughtless slip of your stupid, stupid tongue and the bottled-up feelings in your stupid, stupid heart. You can't be here anymore.

Shifting your thighs to remove yourself from under him and escape to a faraway existence, you’re delayed when Steve speaks. 

“Wait,” he whispers tenderly, turning to lay his head flat in your lap again, eyes burning a hole in your chin.

You spare him a hesitant glance and realise you’re in the same position as earlier. It’s painfully ironic, really. Because, oh, how you wish you were back in that moment. Not even five minutes ago when everything was light and easy and Steve was begging for your touch and you were playing the perfect part of an unaffected best friend. 

But, unfortunately, you’re in the present. Dealing with the aftermath of your words, sitting in terrifying silence and squirming under the solemn focus of your best friend.

Steve opens his mouth and you know he’s trying to find a way to let you down easily. You can’t hear it. You’d rather leave now with a shred of grace.

“Ste-”

“You think I’m cute?” he interrupts.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. Despite how irrational your mind is right now, you knew Steve wouldn’t be mean about it.

But you figured maybe he’d call you ‘pal' to reinstate exactly where you fit in his life. Or perhaps he’d outright say he doesn’t feel the same, but vow to remain friends only for neither of you to be able to get past the ordeal and eventually cease contact.

But Steve said neither of those things. Steve asked for clarity with a softness you didn't think he was capable of. Maybe that's the reason why you decide to be honest with him. Or maybe you're more terrible at standing your ground with him than you originally thought. Either way, you tell him the truth.

“Yeah,” you breathe, allowing yourself to look at him. You search his face for evidence that suggests any form of reaction. You can't find any.

Steve takes your palm and places it over his chest. You can feel his heart. You're sure he can hear yours.

“Like in,” he gulps, fingers tracing over the bones of the back of your hand. “Like in a baby kitten kinda way or in a - I don’t know. Like, um, the other kinda way?”

You smile despite yourself. “You were acting a bit like a kitten earlier.”

Steve snorts and grins half-heartedly. Seemingly dejected by your non-answer, he nods to himself, eyes plastered on where he pinches a gemstone on your middle finger.

You were drowning earlier, and perhaps you still are. So you take the plunge. Or sink deeper, maybe. It's all a bit muddled.

“But," you start. Hopeful eyes flash up to meet yours as you continue, "I guess the other kinda way, too.”

Steve laughs incredulously, cheeks shining crimson. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggle as well.

He tugs one of your fingers and shakes it a little to the beat of his own words. “I think you’re cute, too.”

You float to the surface and take a deep breath. “Baby kitten kinda way?”

He turned over the engine and pulled out of the lot onto the road, the cassettes in his center console the same as they’d been four years ago. Tears for Fears, Pet Shop Boys, INXS, George Michael, Starpoint. Your fingers itched to pick one up and pop it into the tape deck, but you kept your hands firmly in your lap, the radio playing Heaven by Warrant all scratchy in the background. Steve mumbled the lyrics under his breath, thumbs drumming on the steering wheel, and a smile tugged up at your lips.

“Heaven isn’t so too far away,” you sang louder, a little braver, and it made him look over at you, your smile dropping a bit, but then–

“Closer to it every day,” he sang back and the laugh it pulled from you should’ve been embarrassing, but god it felt so nice to just kind of be around each other. Like nothing had changed and it pulled a soft laugh from him too.

“You still suck,” he teased and you shoved his shoulder.

“I know,” you shot back, and as he shifted the car into park at the curb he flicked your hand.

“C’mon.”

The diner was packed, not even one stool at the counter was open, but when Steve came in through the door the entire place erupted into cheers.

“Coach! Coach! Coach!”

His face turned bright red as he dropped his gaze to his feet, laughing uncomfortably. “Okay, okay,” he said, waving his hands at them, “Thank you.”

“Saved a booth for you, Stevie!” Georgie called from behind the counter and he gave her a big smile, hands pressed his together in a silent thank you.

You could feel eyes on you as you followed after him like a lost puppy, people murmuring at their tables, recognizing you and wondering. Were you here to stay?

The last time you’d sat in these booths with Steve on purpose had been right before you’d left Hawkins. You’d shared a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and two cherries on top and it had tasted sweet like summer, like nothing was more important than that moment, tasted like Steve and floating in his pool together at night and–

“The usual?” Georgie asked, not bothering with writing anything down and Steve nodded before glancing over at you and rattling off what you always ordered, remembering even now.

“Grilled cheese? With an extra pickle. Oh, and a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and–”

“Two cherries on top,” Georgie finished, giving you a small wink, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Perfect, comin’ right up.”

As Georgie hurried back to the kitchen, you couldn’t help looking over at Steve. Hair flipping out from under his hat, fingers flicking the edge of the table where the plastic was lifting from the wood, tongue poking out in concentration and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are we doing here?” a simple, but loaded question and you didn’t know if you wanted to know the answer as it fell out of your mouth, but Steve wasted no time in answering it.

“Getting food,” he said, tone neutral, eyes flicking up to look at yours as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But…why are we getting food?” you hated yourself. What were you doing? Couldn’t you just enjoy this?

Then Steve gave you his full attention, leaning back against the plastic back of the booth, eyes meeting yours as his brows knitted together. “How about you tell me,” he leveled you with a look, fingers still picking at the table top.

“Me? But I didn’t–”

“You didn’t have to come when I asked,” he cut in, leaning toward you, your knees knocking together under the table and you felt your cheeks flush again as you tried not to shy away from him.

“And you didn’t have to ask.”

Silence followed, even the buzz of conversation around you seemed to fall away and Steve just studied you for a minute. Eyes searching yours, his fingers went back to picking at the peeling plastic, tongue jammed into his cheek.

“I guess I wanted to see what you’d say,” he finally admitted, pulling his gaze away from you to glance at the kitchen and as he did you realized you’d been holding your breath. You let it out softly, heat waning, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

The same boy you’d lived across the street from all those years. The same beat up Blazers. Same mess of brown hair, same twin freckles on his cheek. The same look in his eye when he was up to something and the way it shifted when he tried to hide from you.

He was hiding now, but so were you.

That it's only the thrill of boy meetin' girl. Opposites attract, it's physical, only logical. You must try to ignore that it means more than that.

The song that started playing through the speakers was full of static, crackly and popping with age, but you heard it clear as day and it sucker punched you. Yanking you back in time.

“What’s love got to do, got to do with it?” Steve practically yelled at the windshield, windows down, wind blowing his hair past his face.

“What’s love, but a second-hand emotion??” you sang back, Tina Turner thankfully not around to hear your horrible rendition of her 1984 masterpiece.

“What's love got to do, got to do with it? Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?” both of your voices strangled together, cracking with the change in pitch and you broke into laughter as Steve shoved you from the driver’s seat.

“Eyes on the road!” you giggled, shoving him back as he scoffed and fixed you with a look.

“I’m driving!” he chided, but his frown cracked and softened the longer he looked at you and you felt your heart melt. Made you feel like you had fireflies trapped between your ribcage. Like you wanted to tell him what you were holding deep in your chest. Tell him how much you liked him, even his frowns and bad jokes, but you couldn’t. It would mean you were more than best friends and that couldn’t be. Could it?

Pulling into his driveway, the joking tone in his voice faded, and he pushed a sigh through his lips. Something was up. He tried to cover it, tried to hide it as he ran a hand through his hair, but you knew.

“Still with me, Harrington?” you asked gently, teasing just a little, but he didn’t smile back and you dropped the act. “Steve,” came out a bit more firmly, the voice you used when he needed a push and he finally looked over at you.

“What,” came out, a statement not a question.

“C’mon,” you turned slightly, knees bumping into the center console and he tossed his gaze off out his window, avoiding you. Your brows pulled together in frustration. “Steve,” you said again, poking a finger into his rib and that did it.

“Quit,” sounded harder than he’d meant it to, sorry murmured quickly after and you shook your head, a silent it’s okay. When he finally looked over at you again there were tears clinging along the long sweep of his lashes, “He’s such a piece of shit.”

And there was only one he it could be.

“What’d he do? Did he hit yo–”

“Christ, no. Nothing like that,” Steve huffed a dark laugh, but his breath hitched as he pulled air into his lungs and then you saw him crack, bend under the weight and he buried his face in his hands.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, shh,” it took everything in you to not crawl over the console and wrap your arms around him, but you stayed where you were. Instead you took his hands in yours and gently pulled them away. “You can tell me anything,” you whispered and his eyes lifted to meet yours, bleary but still so damn pretty under it all.

“He’s cheating on her. Again. S’why they’re both gone this time,” he laughed and it hurt and it was for all the wrong reasons as he tried so hard to bury it all. It make your heart ache.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath, well aware of the imperfect history the of seemingly perfect family from across the street. On the exterior they had everything.

The house, the cars, the heated in-ground pool. Beautiful, young, endearing mother. Stoic, hard-working, dedicated father. Their son, a chip off the old block, an athlete, so handsome. But underneath it all was something darker, fragmented, broken and fractured.

He didn’t have to cheat on his wife, Mr. Harrington, but he did and it had been careful at first. Calculated and untraceable, but each time grew messier. Sloppier until he didn’t care anymore, even when his wife and Steve found out, and now it was silently accepted. Tolerated. A weight carried by both mother and son and it was just too fucking heavy.

“I just–” Steve pulled in a breath, taking his hands away from yours long enough to swipe away the tears on his cheeks, “–will you stay with me? Just for a little while…”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll tell my mom I’m staying at Robin’s.”

Steve took your hands again then and you sat in his car for a little while longer, helping him shoulder the weight, trying to take some of it for yourself, happy to hide away there with him until he was ready.

“For you my dears!” Georgie’s voice brought you back to the diner, her hands full of fried food and milkshakes and soda, earrings dangling and glittering in the lights and you tried to smile just for her.

“This looks so good,” you said and Georgie beamed.

“Only the best for coach,” she started, then glanced at you, a knowing smile, “And for you, sweets.”

Heat crept across your cheeks and Steve quickly interested himself in picking at his burger, taking a couple of fries from his tray and dunking them in ketchup.

“Enjoy!” and Georgie was off, keeping an eye on you from behind the safety of the counter.

You took a bite of your grilled cheese, both of you choosing silence. The strawberry shake in the middle of the table glaring at you, one glass with two straws. To share. Flicking your eyes back up to look at Steve you felt your chest squeeze. Why did you feel like strangers? God, it hurt. It didn’t have to be this way, did it?

But he was hiding and so were you, cos it was easy, it was simple. Painless to ignore everything until you had to leave, but—

“What if I’d said no?” you blurted out and Steve choked on his fries.

“What?” he gave you a look, brows pinched together and you had to hold back from reaching over to smooth out the wrinkle on his forehead with your thumb.

“What if I’d said no?” you repeated the question, putting your grilled cheese down, hands clutched together in your lap, heart pounding in your chest as you waited. As you watched his expression soften. Watched as he swallowed your words and tried to decide what he would do with them.

And he didn’t shy away from you, held your gaze and put his burger down too as he pushed a sigh from his lungs. “Then I would’ve had my answer,” he said quietly, shoulders shrugging, trying to be casual about it, but you felt the weight of it. You both did. Felt the thick, the tension, the air changing as he put words to your feelings without even saying it aloud.

“Was ‘yes’ the answer you wanted?” you were brave, braver than you thought you’d be, but your dad was there in the back of your mind. Encouraging you and smiling and telling you this was it. You were doing it and there was no going back and damn, he was telling you it’d be worth it.

Heat bloomed warm and flush from Steve’s chest, up his neck and across his ears and he cleared his throat, tongue flicking out to run across his bottom lip, staring a hole into the tray in front of him, but then he looked back up. At you.

“It was.”

You felt dizzy. Hazy and warm like you did after taking a shot of cheap whiskey and you bit the inside of your cheek to try and shake it, but Steve was still looking at you and you were looking at him and it felt like the first day of spring. Felt like snow melting under the soft touch of sunlight. Felt like steam lifting from the surface of the pool at night.

The toe of Steve’s shoe kicked into yours under the table, making you pull a sharp breath in through your nose and he chuckled a little, dropping his gaze to his tray to hide it and you felt your lips tugging up into a smile.

“You gonna share that, Harrington?” you asked, tentative but brave, kicking him back toe to toe and he looked up at you again. Looked at you like he finally remembered who you were. Like he had when you were parked in his driveway. When you were twisting together threads of promises in your room. Like nothing had changed and then he smiled. Really smiled. The smile he saved just for you.

“If you ask real nice,” he teased, just a little smug, hiding his grin by leaning into the milkshake. Pushing one of the straws toward you he took a sip and when you did the same it tasted like home. Like strawberries and sprinkles and whipped cream and Steve.

Georgie wouldn’t let either of you pay and you didn’t fight her on it. She might’ve been your dad’s age, but even Steve knew she could probably kick his ass. She practically had to shoo you out of the diner as you stayed and talked long after your trays had been cleared. You’d ordered two cups of coffee, trying and reaching for an excuse to stay just a few more minutes, and by the time those were gone the clock hanging above the counter read 10:47pm.

“Scoot! You’re not teenagers anymore, go get some sleep,” Georgie literally broomed both of you out the door and locked it behind you, a fond smile on her lips as she watched you go.

It was dark when you pushed out into the night, stars scattered across the wide expanse of the sky. Tiny pinpoints of light against the inky black Indiana horizon, nothing like Indianapolis and the thought of going back stung.

“Nah, lemme give you a ride back to your car,” Steve had offered when you mentioned walking the few blocks to the school. “I gotta go back anyway, forgot my playbook on my desk,” so you piled into the BMW after him.

The ride back felt lighter and heavier at the same, so much different than it had on the way over. Tension released and compressed by the vulnerability of your words. Your ‘simple conversation’ as your dad might say and as you rolled down the street the yellow stripes of paint on the pavement looped under the car like stitching on a quilt, street lamps washing everything in a warm glow, open windows letting in the sounds of insects and bats, the whoosh of the air past your ears.

Steve drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, bumping along to whatever upbeat tune was crackling over the speakers and you hummed along, but then it was fading out. A mingling of songs twisting together with the change in tracks before settling into Natalie Cole’s voice. A slow hum, smooth and soft. A love song.

Even though it's been so long my love for you keeps going strong. I remember the things that we used to do, a kiss in the rain 'til the sun shine through. Itried to deny it, but I'm still in love with you.

You both heard the lyrics, knew the song well cos it was all over the radio right now, but it made the air shift again just like it had in the diner. It crackled, vibrating and shaking around you like it was charged. Like how it felt right before a thunderstorm and when Steve finally pulled into the school parking lot you were both all too eager to get out.

“Thanks! For the ride,” you said quickly, jamming your hands into your jean pockets as you met Steve around the driver’s side. Running his hands through his hair, ball cap left on the seat of his car, he hadn’t changed a bit. So much more a man now, but you could still see the boy underneath it all.

And god, you’d missed him.

Everything about him.

And when he looked up and smiled at you all easy and warm like it was nothing you felt your body buzzing, levitating. If not for your brain you think you would’ve thrown your arms around him, asked him to hold you tight and not let go.

“Yeah, course,” and then he hesitated and for a minute you thought, you hoped, he felt the same pull you did. The same want, need, to be close. “Uh, well I guess–I guess I’ll see you around,” he rubbed at the back of his neck and a silence settled, offering you a chance, but you flailed miserably and couldn’t do it.

“Yep! See you ‘round,” fell out too quick, too hasty, and it sliced the moment in half. It took everything in you not to audibly groan, put your face in your hands and yell.

“Cool, alright, I’m–” Steve thumbed over his shoulder, “–I’m gonna go get my stuff.”

“Right! Great. Okay, night,” and you turned so fast your hair whipped into your face as you hoofed it to your car, willing the deep red on your cheeks away as the gym door slammed against the metal frame with Steve on the other side of it. And then you did.

Yell.

“What is wrong with you??” you yelled at no one, roughing your hands over your face and kicking into the front tire of your rental, “Fuck.”

You tipped forward and let your forehead bump against the roof of the car, closing your eyes and pushing a sigh from your lungs. What did it matter anyway? You said it yourself, you were leaving at the end of the month. Right? Back to Indianapolis. Your job. Your apartment. Your life. The life Steve wasn’t part of, but when you thought about it, it made you want to cry. Made your heart ache. Made you feel homesick for Hawkins and tired and like everything that was back where you’d left it was wrong. Wasn’t where you should be and it scared the shit out of you.

When you’d left home after graduation you’d seen the little signs, little cracks in your armor. Knew that there was hesitation lingering behind your oh so enthusiastic yes, but you didn’t listen. Thought maybe if you pushed through it you’d forget. Move on. Find something you didn't know you were looking for, something new and sparkling. A fresh beginning without all of the things, people, that had shaped you, but now standing in the parking lot of your old high school you couldn’t help feeling you’d messed it all up.

Could you go back? Was there a do-over? Did Steve even want you anymore?

Opening your eyes you shook your head, trying to scatter away the thoughts and feeling of him. The way he looked at you across the table, sipping down the sugary sweet strawberries and whipped cream with you like you were teenagers again. It held you tight, pulled you back from opening your door and you hesitated, keys clinking between your fingers.

“Hey! Are you okay? What happened?”

Well, shit. That was fast.

You hoped the look on your face didn’t give you away when you turned around to see Steve jogging across the parking lot, hand full of loose papers and a binder, worry and concern tugging his lips down into a frown.

“Is it your car? A flat? I can drive you–”

“No, no. I’m fine, I was just…” what were you doing?

Steve caught your hesitation and his lips parted like he wanted to ask you something, wanted to tell you everything and his eyes softened and the keys in your hand suddenly felt like they weighed a hundred pounds.

His tongue flicked out across his lips, papers rustling as he shifted on his feet, hair swept up by the wind without his hat to wrangle it all and you felt him pushing you again. Pulling you soft and easy into what you wanted to say and when hesitation threatened to snatch it away you held tight to the sound of his laughter. The way his lips turned up when he smiled at you all smug and boy. The way his hands felt in yours.

“I was just thinking,” you tried again, voice trembling just ever so, Steve holding his breath as he waited for you to complete your thought, “I just thought that maybe if you wanted we could–we could–”

He didn’t need to hear anymore and took the few steps toward you slow, toes of your shoes bumping against each other as he looked down at you, the rest of your words whisked away with how close you were.

“I fucked up,” he said and you shook your head in silent protest, but then he took your hand in his, “I should’ve said something.”

“You did–”

“No, I should’ve told you why I wanted you to stay. The real reason.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your chest grow tight, heart fluttering like a bird caught in cage. “The real reason…” your voice was barely above a whisper and he nodded.

“I thought maybe it’d go away when you left, but shit. It only got worse,” his brow furrowed as he put words to everything, pained but relieved. A release. The truth. “I–God, I wanted you stay with me. For me,” his hand squeezed yours, “I didn’t know it then because I was an idiot, but I…I really fucking loved you and–and I still do.”

I still do.

You didn’t wait, pulling him down into you by the hand that was holding tight to yours and caught his lips in a kiss and what had started out as a tiny ember crackled and flickered into a burning fire. Your eyes fluttered closed at the familiar feeling of him. The way his nose brushed against your cheek. His hair and how it fell into yours. The way his mouth fitted against yours perfectly like petals on a flower and neither of you heard his papers flutter to the pavement when he dropped them in favor of your waist, tugging you tight into him.

It was sitting too close your bedroom washed in summer, it was a free fall jump into the glittering water of the quarry, running through the long grass on the bluff and pulling Steve along behind you, a chance you should’ve taken so much sooner but as he kissed you back you knew it was better late than never.

When you finally, reluctantly pulled away you were both breathless, cheeks pink and flushed, lips bright and just a little kiss bitten. “Stay,” he said, voice low and soft and warm, the wide expanse of his hand still holding at your waist, fingers looped together in the other.

“But how will I–”

“Stay,” Steve said again and this time his brows pinched together and his eyes creased at the corners, looking at you like whatever you were worried about didn’t matter. You’d figure it out and he’d help you and the last little tiny tangle of hesitation unraveled. “Whatever it is, we can handle it, right?”

You could feel tears gathering along your lashes, but they were void of sadness, no semblance of regret to be found only relief and when you blinked they spilled over down the soft slope your cheeks.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry,” he lifted a hand to swipe at your tears with the rough pad of his thumb, leaning down to kiss them away as you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you huffed a small laugh, his breath warming over your cheek as he pressed his lips there, “I’m just–I love you too, dummy. And–and I want to stay.” The look that came over him then, all bewilderment and disbelief, made you grin wide enough to pinch dimples into your cheeks and your heart soared.

“You do? You really do?” he asked twice, the first time to make sure and the second like a pinch to ground him in reality.

“I really do, Steve,” your voice was thick from the tears that were still falling, but you laughed again. A light, happy sound, one Steve hadn’t heard in so long and he wanted bottle it up and keep it forever. He couldn’t help it then either, grinning like an idiot at you, your idiot, and he laughed like he only did with you for the first time since you’d left.

There was a lot to figure out, you both knew it wasn't as simple as just staying there in Hawkins, but you wanted to try. Oh how you wanted to try. To make it work. To not lose what you'd lost before, but for now you just wanted to be with him, lost in each other there in the parking lot at midnight like nothing else mattered and it didn't.

Expression softening Steve lifted a hand to your cheek and took you in. Every tiny part of you just like he remembered. The little details of you, a map he knew like the back the of his hand. Popsicles shared on front porches, learning how to ride your bikes, scuffed knees and band-aids, first kisses and first heart aches.

I'm sorrys and I love yous.

“Best friends forever, right?” he asked, your little promise to each other, twisted tightly together like the threads of a bracelet and you smiled up at him.

Steve has been gone for a little over a week, going on a mini midwest tour with his college band he had started freshman year. You were so proud of him, and normally you’d go with him, but you had midterms coming up and couldn’t risk finishing your senior year with a horrible GPA. Steve had already graduated, to the delight of himself and little surprise to you, so now he was free to pick up everything and go to a two-night stint in Chicago in the middle of the week if he wanted to. But that left you all alone on a Friday night, studying done and nothing to do.

You could of course call up your friends and hit up the same old stale college bars you frequented, but that just didn’t seem right tonight. You wanted your Stevie. It made you feel slightly pathetic, but mostly just lucky to have someone in your life that you loved so much. But still, just a little pathetic.

What was more pathetic? The ache between your thighs. You and Steve had a very healthy sex life. There was nothing hotter to you than him. Doesn’t even matter what he was doing, what he was wearing, what he was saying, there was about a 80% chance you were thinking about him with his hands all over you, and these thought patterns didn’t just cease because he wasn’t around. If anything, they grew stronger. 

You knew what he was like on stage. He became the best version of himself. Front man and lead guitarist Steve Harrington knew how to put on a show. The way he engaged with the audience was unlike anything you had ever seen. All eyes were on him the whole time as he jumped around the stage, nailed every guitar solo, and sang every lyric like the angel that he was. All of the guys in the venue wanted to be him, and all the girls wanted to be with him. This much was certain by the inevitable band of girls and groupies waiting for him outside the venue every single time. If you were less secure, this might have been something that bothered you. But you found it kind of cute, how adored he was. It was cute because you know the truth: that you were waiting for him in the dressing room, ready for him to take out all of that post-show energy on you. 

Except for tonight.

Tonight you were at home all wound up thinking about him owning the crowd, his fingers working the guitar strings, his lips forming the lyrics to your favorite songs. It was enough to drive you absolutely insane. You could go out with your friends to get your mind off him, but you doubted it would work. You were already too far gone.

You looked over at the clock by your bed. 10:34 PM it read in bright neon green letters. If his show started at 8, he probably was already back at the hotel, if him and the band didn’t go out to the bars after. You decided to take your chances and call the hotel room number he gave you earlier that day. 

You cradled the phone between your shoulder and cheek, the tension in your body growing tighter with every ring. Your thighs were already tight together on their own volition, desperately trying to relieve the yearning there. 

Finally, he answered. “Hello there, baby,” He drawled into the phone. You could immediately tell that they had gone out to the bars for a drink or two, probably just now getting back to their hotel. 

Your face heats up at the pet name, “Hi Stevie.”

You could hear him adjusting himself into bed, “I miss you,” He said finally after a couple seconds of rustling blankets and sheets. “I wish you were there tonight, the show was siiiiiiiick. I crowd surfed and no one even dropped me.”

“That’s great baby,” You giggled. Imagining Steve high on the thrill of the crowd, euphoria washing over him as he trusted complete strangers to keep him from falling made you smile. You were so happy he was getting to live his dream, even on the small scale of dive bars and college campuses. 

He laughed with you for a moment before continuing, “How’s your night going?”

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out how you wanted to continue. Shyness flooded your cheeks as you realized what you really wanted. “It’s been alright Stevie but,” You gather all the courage you can, “The truth is…I miss you so bad.”

The frown is noticeable in his response, “I miss you too baby, I can’t wait to see you this weekend when I’m finally home.”

“No, baby, I um,” You struggle to find the right words to convey how you’re feeling, “I miss you.”

His tipsy head couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what you were insinuating, “I know baby but we talked about this, sometimes I’ll be gone and you’ll be there and it won’t be forever but sometimes it just has to be like this-”

“Steve I’m so horny!” You surprise yourself by cutting him off. Your hand flies over your mouth and you go to apologize when you hear him on the other line, his voice dropping what feels like several octaves.

“Ohhhhhh. I see baby. I see.”

Your face is absolutely flooded with red, even though there’s no one there to be embarrassed in front of. You can’t even speak.

“You miss me, I get it now.” You hear him rustling around the bed again, you assume he’s sitting up by the way he grunts slightly. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

Before you realize what you’re doing, you shake your head no.

“I want to hear you, baby.”

“N-no. No we can’t,” You finally spit out. 

You swear you hear the zipper of jeans on the other line before he continues, “Tell me baby, what is it that you miss exactly?”

You swallow before answering, “I miss you Stevie. I miss your hands on me, I miss everything.”

He groans in response, the sound going straight to your center. “I miss my hands on you too baby, I wish I could grab a handful of you right now.” 

You blush and let out a whimper before you can stop yourself.

“I love that sound, baby. I love all of your sounds. Can you make some more for me? Are you touching yourself?”

You weren’t yet, but you had thought about it. This prompting gave you the strength you needed to trail your fingers down to the waistband of your cotton underwear, teasing yourself a little bit before dipping your fingers underneath to your wet center. “Yes, Stevie. I’m touching myself.” Your fingers weren’t as calloused or long or thick as Steve’s but they still felt good on your clit and you couldn’t help but let out a whine as you started rubbing circles on yourself.

He huffs out a strong moan on the other end of the line, “Me too baby, me too. Thinking about you in your bed with your fingers down the front of your panties got me feeling crazy, baby. What are you thinking about while you touch that pretty pussy?”

Steve was usually vocal in bed, but something about the distance made this all seem even more obscene. 

“I’m um, I’m thinking about…” You’re trying so hard to focus on what it is you want to say while your sensory intake is in overdrive. “I’m thinking about you.”

“What about me baby? I want you to say it.” His voice is so bogged down with lust you almost can’t hear him.

You take a deep breath before continuing, “I’m thinking about your cock, Stevie.”

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?” His cockiness is palpable. “Baby, I want you to stick your fingers in that pussy and pretend that it’s me. Can do you that for me?”

Your response is automatic as you do what you’re told, “Yes, I can do that.”

“Mmmm good girl. I wish I could see you right now. Just a mess for me with your fingers in your pussy. I bet you’re wet, huh? Just soaked thinking about me giving you my cock the way you like it.”

“Yes, Steve,” Your response comes out breathier than you expected, but you don’t have the faculties to feel embarrassed. You’re pumping your fingers with such ease, the sound your wetness is creating is absolutely filthy. “Just for you.” 

“Fuck, baby. You make my cock so hard.” His words are straining, “Just want to feel that tight pussy around it.”

Your fingers are going even harder at this point, switching between your clit and your opening in a dizzying pattern, just like Steve does it. “It feels so good Stevie,” You whine

You can hear his breathing growing more and more rapid, “Oh baby I wish I was there. I wish I was there to give you my cock. Those pretty little fingers don’t feel better than I do, do they?” He quips at the end and you can hear the smirk on his face. 

Your pussy tightens around your finger as you hear him talk, “No baby, never as good as you. Nothing is as good as you.”

“What do you want me to do to you when I get home, baby?”

Your brain was starting to get fuzzy with need and impending orgasm but you muster up the honest truth, “I want you to fuck me hard.”

“How baby? Tell me.”

Your orgasm is coming on at any moment, so you visualize what you can and spell it out for him. “I want to ride you, but I want you to hold my hips and fuck up into me while I do it. I love that baby.”

A groan rips through his throat, “Yeah baby I love that too. I love that so much, “You can tell he’s losing it a bit, “Baby, I want you to cum for me. I’m so close I just want to hear you cum for me.”

You’re not used to cumming on your own anymore, haven’t really had much of a need to. And even before Steve, it was hard to cum on your own. You really didn’t know if you were going to be able to. 

“Stevie…” You whined. You wanted to cum, you really did. You had worked yourself up so high. You just needed a little extra push that he wasn’t there to give.

“Baby, just keep doing what you’re doing but pretend it’s me. Pretend it’s my fingers inside that pussy,” His breathing was getting more and more uneven by the second, “I’m going to cum and I want you to do it with me. I know you can baby, be a good girl for me and cum. Give it to me.”

His words were certainly spurring you along, you didn’t want to let him down and you really, really wanted to cum.

He keeps going, “I’m thinking about that pretty pussy and how bad I want to fuck it. You gonna be a good girl for me and let me have it when I get home?”

“Yes, Stevie. It’s all yours. I’m all yours,” His filthy words were sparking something in you that was so hot and heady and familiar. You were going to cum if he kept talking to you like that.

“Damn right it’s all mine baby. That’s my girl. That’s my pussy,” He stops to groan again, “Baby, I’m so close please tell me you’re there.

You move your fingers from your pussy to your clit and start caressing yourself in heated, fast figure 8’s. You were so close you didn’t even have to lie when you said, “Yes baby I’m almost there.”

“Gooooood girl, Y/N. Fucking yourself for me while I’m away. Being such a perfect slut for me even when I’m not home.”

And with that, you were a goner. By some miracle you were able to cum and it was a big one. Your vision went white and your limbs turned to jello as you attempted to gather yourself up. The sounds you were making sent Steve over the edge, too, and you both were left in your post-orgasmic haze together. 

“I really do miss you, Stevie,” You all but whisper into the phone.

He sighs contently over the other end of the line, “I know baby, I miss you too. I’ll be home in a couple of days and we can do that for real, ok? And then I get to actually hold my girl after rather than this phone.”

“Will you fall asleep on the phone with me?” You ask before you let out a yawn you barely saw coming. Your exhaustion had hit you like a truck. 

~~~

Pulling up into the parking lot, you stared at the sign. "Huh..."

"What?" He asked, and you pointed at the sigh as he finished parking.

"It's called 'Frost Palace.' A play on words so they don't get sued no doubt." 

"Huh..." Steve mimicked you, before hopping out of the car, and walking around the car to open your door.

"Well, thank you." You said, stepping outside. Steve offered you his arm and you took it, resting your hand on his forearm as you walked inside the building. 

The diner looked mighty similar to the one in Grease, but it was much brighter inside. In fact, it looked almost exactly like the set from Grease, except it was a pink and white theme, instead of blue and white. Sitting in booths were other customers, all dressed up for their dates as they sipped from frosty cups of ice cream and laughed together. Steve led you through the restaurant, finding a table near a window. 

"This looks good." You commented, taking off your coat and setting it on the booth beside you. Steve followed suit, sitting across from you.

"Yeah, it does," He agreed and you smiled, leaning your cheek on your hand. "I used to come here all the time when I could." He continued, "They changed the flooring a while back, so I didn't have their special fries for a month."

"Special fries?" You laughed lightly, "Must be amazing fries then."

He nodded, "Oh, sure. They're like, super tasty." He explained eagerly, "If there's anything on this menu to recommend... It's the fries."

You hummed, gazing over at the young man before you, "Really? Then I must order some then."

Steve smiled, feeling slightly shy under your intense gaze, he still couldn't believe he was on a date with you. It felt like a dream and a part of him wanted to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but you seemed far too real. His feelings were coming up, overflowing almost, and he knew he shouldn't be rushing these things, but he didn't want to lose you. This was such an amazing opportunity and if he lost it, he'd never forgive himself. 

You both ordered your food and ate; talking about movies, favorite colors, and family pets. Every so often you would meet each other's gaze and blush lightly, before quickly averting your eyes to stare out the window. Looking out the window, you frowned,  quickly grabbing the two large menus and standing them up on the table. Ducking down, you grabbed Steve's collar and pulled him down too. 

"What? What are you doing?" He asked, trying to look over the menus and out the window, but you tugged him back down.

"The stupid paparazzi found me." You whispered, peering out the window again, "And there's more than one... There are seven of them right outside, waiting for me to do something stupid…" You trailed off, biting your lip nervously. "Wanting to catch me out and about so they can post it in their stupid magazines.

"Hey," Steve offered, taking your hand in his, "You'll be fine. We'll figure a way out."

"No!" You whisper-yelled, "They always find me. We can't just run out of here."

Steve squeezed your hand, giving you a reassuring smile, "Listen, I have an idea."

"An idea?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I know how to deal with paparazzi." He replied quietly, "But we need a diversion."

"Distraction?" You repeated slowly, and Steve nodded, becoming more and more serious. "What's your plan?" You questioned him.

"Paparazzi know you are here, but they need to see your face, to know it's you, right?" Steve asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, basically, unless they saw what I’m wearing, where are you going with this?" You asked skeptically, as Steve nodded rapidly.

"So, I had an idea, and I'm not doing this just cause I'm a weirdo or anything. This is just what my brain could cook up and-"

You placed your hand over his mouth, "I don't care what I have to do to get out of here, Stevie. Tell me what I have to do."

Steve grabbed your hand, pulling it from his mouth, his cheeks flushed red as he looked down at the marble table. "Uh, I could kiss you when we get outside... They won't see your face... Uh, no, never mind. I'm sorry, it's a terrible idea-"

"No." You interrupted him, "That's a great idea. Honestly, it's a win-win."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "Win-win?"

You nodded, "Yeah, we trick those paparazzi idiots..." You smirked up at Steve, "And I get to kiss you."

Steve's jaw dropped as he blushed deeply and looked away, "Oh, uh..."

"Come on, I've been wanting to kiss you since day one." You exclaimed and Steve shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"Don't tease me." He mumbled and you chuckled back.

"I'm not teasing, I am preaching the truth." You stated, reaching over and stroking his cheek gently with your thumb, "We need a distraction and kissing is a great idea."

Steve chuckled lightly, his cheeks bright red, "Well, okay. If you say so." 

Standing up, you both grabbed the menus holding them over your faces as if they were books. Holding hands as Steve led you out of the diner, handing the menus to the waitress on the way out.

"Are you gonna give me a kiss or not?" You asked, side-glancing at the paparazzi as the small group looked around for you.

Steve cleared his throat, "Uh... Okay," He nodded, looking at the ground awkwardly briefly, before looking up at you.

Licking his lips, Steve raised his hands to cup your cheeks, tilting his head to the side as he brought your lips to his. You closed your eyes as you held your breath, letting yourself melt into his warmth. Your hands moved down to grip the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss even further. When Steve finally pulled away, you were dazed and panting softly.

"Wow." You murmured softly, staring at him, "Are they gone?"

"Yeah, yeah, they're gone," Steve murmured, his hands dropping from your face.

“Can we do that again?” You suddenly asked, surprising Steve as he quickly nodded.

“Absolutely.”

And with that, you pulled him into a kiss.

________________________________________

Steve hates Halloween. Crowds mulling about on the sidewalks, little kids screaming for no good reason, and usually a significant uptick in calls to the station due to people’s booze-heavy parties. It’s the one thing he asked for from the chief, to have Halloween off every year so he could go into hiding for those twenty-four hours of national stupidity. 

This year is proving to be different. While he does have the day off from the station, his girl has asked him to come with her to a Halloween party. When he had told her there was no chance in hell he’d go out on Halloween, she just shrugged, said fine, that she’d go by herself. Steve wasn’t about to let that fly. 

That’s why he currently finds himself waiting outside her dorm in the quick-cooling October night. She had told him to wear a costume, which he balked at. But he did put in some effort, putting on his worn leather jacket from his army days, letting his dog tags hang out over a white t-shirt, aviators on his face. Top Gun was still cool, right?

His worries about his own outfit fly out the window when she finally comes out though. He finds himself speechless, taking in her attire. She’s wearing a very tight and very short black dress. Too short, too tight he thinks to himself. There’s yellow and gray stripes in some parts, and Steve realizes it’s the same kind of stripes that are on his own uniform. And then he sees she’s got a little plastic fireman’s hat on her head. Mother of god. He swallows thickly, finally meeting her eyes.

“Hi, Stevie.” “You’re not going out in that.”  She scoffs at him, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that makes her cleavage even more unbearable.

“Steve, don’t do this. I thought you’d like my costume. I wore it for you.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face.

“I do like it, doll. But I’m pretty sure every other guy on this campus is gonna like it too.” She steps forward, bringing her palms to rub up and down his chest.

“Listen, don’t worry about every other guy, yeah? I just wanna have a good night with you.” He knows there’s no use arguing with her, she might even be more stubborn than he is, so he just sighs. He offers her a crook of a smile before tipping her hat up with his finger.

“Alright, alright. Lead the way, chief.” She grins, taking his hand and tugging him along to wherever this godforsaken party is.

Steve’s stomach drops when he sees the greek letters over the front door of the house. A fucking frat party? She tugs on his hand, looking back at where he seems to be stuck in place.

“Baby, we’re just gonna have some fun, ok? And then we can leave, whenever you want to.”

“Can we leave now?”

“Steve.” he acquiesces to her, letting her pull him into the house. 

Steve is immediately reminded why he hates Halloween.

It’s a sea of scantily clad bodies bumping into each other to the beat of an ingratiating song. He feels like he can practically chew the air it’s so humid and murky inside, a mix of sweat and booze assaulting his senses. The only thing keeping him from completely losing it is her hand still firmly holding onto his as she leads him through the crowd towards the kitchen at the back of the house.

She lets go of his hand to hug a few of her friends and he hates how much he wishes she hadn’t let go of him. He tries to act somewhat pleasant as she introduces him to her friends, trying to make his grimace look more like a smile. Truthfully, he can barely hear a word anyone is saying, the music coupled with his already damaged hearing making everything sound muffled. He just smiles and nods. 

They settle into a corner in the kitchen, he slots behind her, hands around her waist while she talks with her friends. He’s quick to throw back a few swigs of some non-descript liquor that’s littering the countertop, letting things mellow out just a bit in his mind as his throat burns with the gulps. The alcohol lets him slip away from it all, only anchored by the feeling of his hands on her hips. He’s pulled back to the present moment when she turns in his grasp, he leans down to let her speak into his ear.

“We’re gonna go dance, baby. Will you come dance with me?” He huffs.

“No, doll. You go dance. I’ll watch, yeah?” She frowns just slightly before leaving him with a chaste peck, turning and following her friends into the living room. Steve fills a red solo cup with something dark before shuffling after her, leaning up against a wall and watching her move into the crowd.

“Hey, man. That’s a sick jacket. Is it thrifted?” Steve’s attention is turned to a guy who’s fingering the American flag patch on his shoulder. He shrugs his hand off.

“Sorry, what?”

“Your jacket, bro. Is it vintage?” 

“Uh, no. It’s mine.” Steve can’t believe this guy, he’s only five years older than most of the people here for christ’s sake.

“Well, it’s real cool, man. Where’d you get a jacket like that?”

“The army.” The guy laughs. Steve’s losing his patience.

“No shit. Really? You in the army, bro?” Steve just nods, glancing away, trying to find her in the crowd.

His eyes finally land on her and his heart kicks up when he sees that she’s been cornered by some punk in a cowboy hat. He tries to keep his cool as he starts shoving through the crowd, but when he sees cowboy hat put his hand on her waist he goes livid. He turns the guy around by his shoulder and when he speaks it comes out in a loud bark that can definitely be heard over the music.

“Hey! Why don’t you keep your fucking hands to yourself, kid.” Cowboy hat scoffs.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, man. Just trying to take a pretty lady home for the night, is that such a crime?” Steve snaps, and before his brain can catch up, he’s tackling cowboy hat to the ground. A crowd has formed around the pair as they struggle against each other, but Steve gets the upper hand, landing several, crunching blows to the man’s face. He gives him one more jostle by the collar of his shirt before he stands, spitting blood out of the side of his mouth. 

The ringing in his ears finally dies down and he realizes that the music has stopped. Everyone has stopped to watch what just happened. He finally finds her eyes in the crowd and his stomach twists. Her jaw is slack and her eyes are wide. She looks shocked. Even worse, she looks scared. Steve feels like he’s going to throw up, seeing her look at him like that. He does the only thing he can think to do, shoving his way out of the crowd and out the front door, starting to walk off down the street in a bit of a haze.

He hears her calling his name but he doesn’t turn around, just keeps walking.

“Jesus christ, Steve. Will you stop? Or at least slow down? I’m in fucking heels.” He sighs, stopping in his tracks before turning around, keeping his eyes on his sneakers. She walks up to him, dipping to catch his gaze.

“You’re bleeding, baby. Will you come with me, please? Get you cleaned up?” 

“Why’d you follow me out?” She looks taken aback by his question.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?” Steve scoffs.

“I saw the way you were looking at me. Thought you finally figured out that I’m no good for you.” She sighs, tilting his chin with her knuckles to get him to finally look at her.

“Steve, I’m a big girl who can determine all on my own what is or isn’t good for me, ok? Now will you please come with me so we can get you taken care of?” Steve nods mutely, once again letting her lead the way, this time back to her dorm.

…

He’s never been in her room before. She has a single because she’s an RA, neat, if not a bit sparse. He sees the grad school pamphlets on her desk and something in him twists at the reality that she’ll most likely be moving away in just a few months. Onto much better things, he supposes. He stands in the doorway, watching as she slips off her heels in turn for a pair of flip flops before sliding a first aid kit out from under her bed. He quirks an eyebrow at her, but she just shrugs.

“Comes with the territory of looking after a bunch of college freshmen. Now let’s go get you fixed up, baby.”

She leads him to the floor’s bathroom and mercifully, it’s empty, everyone else still out getting sloshed. She motions for him to hop up on the counter, stepping between his legs and taking his chin in her hand to inspect his face. She hums.

“Just a cut lip and the start of a black eye. Didn’t realize Matthew got in any swings at you.” Steve grumbles.

“Don’t wanna talk about fucking Matthew.” She huffs at that, but continues her ministrations, dabbing at his lip and split knuckles with alcohol wipes. Her words come out as a murmur as she bandages his knuckles.

“Steve, I’m sorry I made you come out with me tonight. You told me you didn’t want to go and I pushed and I shouldn’t have.” He goes to speak but she shoots him a look that tells him to keep quiet. 

“But, this can’t keep happening. You promised me you’d work on this shit. I get that it’s hard for you, but it’s never gonna get better if you don’t try. Did you look into that VA psych center I told you about? They offer counseling that’d be practically free for you.” Steve grumbles.

“I don’t need some fucking shrink digging around in my head. Just gotta– I don’t know, try harder to not be so fucking stupid.” She squeezes his thighs.

“Hey. You’re not stupid, Steve. You’re a human who’s–”

“Doing his best. Yeah, yeah, miss therapy. Obviously not doing good enough for you though.” He regrets it the minute it leaves his mouth, sees the way her face falls at his words. She clears her throat.

“I’m just trying to help you, Steve. Fuck– I care about you, a lot.” She turns on her heel, bringing her hand to her forehead, Steve watches an exhale slacken her shoulders.

He slides off the counter, shuffling up behind her until his chest is pressed to her back, slipping his palms to splay across her stomach. She jumps at first, but settles into his grasp. She always does.

He rests his chin on her shoulder and sways them a bit side to side. She sighs, eyes closed.

“M’sorry, doll. I didn’t mean it. You know that, huh?” She brings her palms to slide along his forearms before twining their hands together.

“You never mean it, Stevie. But sometimes you can be so mean. I just wanna help you.” 

“I know, baby. You’re so good to me. So good for me. Don’t fucking deserve you. Tell you what, first thing Monday, I’ll call that VA center, ok? I promise.” He lands a kiss to her temple before burying his face in her neck. She hums at his words.

“But I think you like when I’m a little mean, don’t you?” He can’t help the sly grin that slides across his face and into her shoulder. He feels her shiver in his grasp.

“Uh-huh. Tell me, pretty, who’d you get all dressed up for tonight, hm?” He untangles their hands, letting his palms slide down her thighs before roughly catching the hem of her dress and rucking it up to her waist. She gasps, stumbling forward a bit and steadying herself by pressing her palms against the tiled wall. Steve keeps his hands on her waist, sliding them down to catch the band of her little black thong to snap it against the plush of her hip.

“You, Steve. It’s all for you.” He kicks her feet apart, spreading her wider for him as he kneels behind her, dragging her panties down with him. She goes to turn around but he lands a harsh smack to her ass, making her lurch forward again.

“You’re perfect just like this, pretty. Stay just like that. Daddy wants a taste.” Before she can protest he’s diving in, licking a salacious stripe through her folds. She whines as he gets to work, and Steve thinks for a flickering moment that he’s found one other thing he’s great at. Making his girl fall apart. He fucks her with his tongue and she reaches a hand back to grip onto his hair, grinding her hips onto his mouth. 

“That’s it, baby. Want one from you just like this. Want you to come on my tongue, can you do that for me?” She lets out a long sigh.

“Y-yes, daddy. Fuck– just don’t stop, please.” He lands a sharp smack to her ass before dipping back into her cunt.

Steve knows all her tells by now, the way her breath starts to catch, the little whimpers, the shake in her thighs. She lets out a broken cry when she comes, fingers digging into his hair, he groans under the pressure. Her head dips down, forehead resting against the tile. Steve slowly stands, keeping a firm hold of her waist when her knees start to buckle.

“I got you, baby. I got you. Did so good for me.” She lets out a long whine of his name and it makes his cock twitch in his jeans. 

He holds her steady, palm splayed along her stomach, pressing her back into him as he grinds into her ass. 

“S-Steve– someone might see– fuck!” He rolls his hips particularly hard into her.

“Is that right, doll? Well, they’d just see what a good little slut you are for me, yeah?” She whimpers when his teeth graze along her neck. He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock, smearing pre-cum across her ass.

“You want me, right, baby? Tell daddy what you want.” She jerks back into him when he slides his cock between her folds.

“Want you, daddy. Want you to fuck me, p-please. I–” Steve thrusts into her in one harsh arc of his hips and she lets out a broken gasp. He gives her no time to adjust, setting a brutal pace that’s drawing little whimpers out of her with each press of his hips. The adrenaline and alcohol from earlier is finally catching up to Steve, and he needs her desperately.

“Fuck, baby. Little pussy’s made for me. Taking me so well. Just take it, doll. Be a good girl and take it.” His fingers are digging into the swell of her hips as he presses his chest to her back, hovering over her hunched figure. He slides one hand down her front to toy harshly with her clit, practically drawing a sob from her. She’s a babbling mess underneath him, letting out curses and cries of his name. Steve cranes his neck to get a look at her face, seeing tears glittering down her cheeks.

“You crying on my cock, pretty? S’just that good, huh?” She lets out a chant of the word “yes” to his question, too far gone in the pleasure and pain of it all to say much else.

“Come for me. Right fucking now. Come all over my cock, pretty.” She cries out, breaking off into a gasp as she pulses around his dick and Steve groans at the feeling. Steve’s not far behind, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades as he grinds his hips as hard into her as he can, coming so deep in her she shivers at the feeling. 

He presses a kiss to the nape of her neck, shushing her whimpers as he pulls out.

“Y’alright, doll?” She sighs, turning around and leaning back against the wall as she shimmies the skirt of her dress back down around her thighs.

“Yeah, um, where’s my underwear though?” Steve scans the tiled floor, finding them off to the side where he must have tossed them. When he grabs them for her, he realizes that he had ripped right through them. She raises her eyebrows at him when she sees their shredded state.

“Steve, I can’t believe you–”

“S’fine, pretty. I’ll buy you a new pair, huh?”

…

They shower together in the shitty dorm bathroom. She gives him back a t-shirt and pair of sweats of his that she had stolen from his place a while ago, coaxing him into staying for the night. They curl around each other in her tiny dorm room bed and she takes to carding her fingers through his still damp hair. Steve would never admit it out loud, but it’s quickly become his favorite feeling in the world, having her hands in his hair. 

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re gonna hold to your promise, right? Gonna call the VA center on Monday?” Steve sighs and nods. She could ask him to chop off his hand and he’d probably do it right now, he’s so faded out from the light scratching of her nails on his scalp.

“Yes, baby. M’gonna call them, I promise.” She seems to accept his answer, letting out a sigh of her own.

“You know, I really meant what I said. I care about you so much, Steve.” He lifts his head from her chest, looking up at her.

“I know you do, doll. Christ, it’s only been a few months but– I– you– I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes soften as she brings her hand to stroke along the arch of his cheek. He feels like he’s going to melt.

“Oh, Steve. You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere, you’ve got me.” Steve presses a kiss to her sternum before settling back against her chest. She falls asleep before him, but he can’t seem to shake an incessant thought that plays on a loop in his mind. Not going anywhere, yet.

…

Steve wakes up early the next morning, trying to untangle himself from her without disturbing her sleeping form. She stirs next to him as he sits on the edge of her bed.

“Steve? It’s early, what’re you doing?” He brushes his palm down her bare arm before drawing it back up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Gotta go, pretty. My shift starts in half an hour.” She frowns slightly, sitting up and holding onto his hand.

“It’s two days, isn’t it?” He nods.

“That’s the price for having Halloween off every year.” They both sigh, taking in each other’s sleep-smudged figures.

“You’ll be careful, right?” He scoffs but she grips his thigh, giving him a squeeze that tells him she means business.

“Steve, please tell me you’ll be careful.” “Baby, I know what I’m doing. Besides, the likelihood of anything beyond a cat stuck in a tree or a faulty fire alarm in the next forty-eight hours is so low. I’ll probably just be sitting at the station for the next two days, watching grass grow.” Her frown deepens at his words and he surges forward to try to kiss it away. It doesn’t quite work.

“It just freaks me out sometimes. One day you’re with me and the next you’re on shift and I don’t know if it’s been a good or bad one until the next time I see you. And then I start worrying about if there’s gonna be a next time and—”

“Woah, woah. I’m a firefighter, pretty, not a fucking navy seal. Look, I’m gonna promise you two things. First, I promise that I’m gonna call that goddamn VA center on Monday.” This earns him a slight smile.

“And second, I promise you that as long as I can help it, there’s gonna be a next time, ok?” She huffs, not seeming totally convinced. Steve cups her face in both his palms.

“And, I guess I’ll be careful, for you.” He seals his words with a chaste kiss which she chases after, deepening in a way that makes his brain go fuzzy. He finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I really gotta go, doll. I’ll see you soon.” She offers him a smile.